ANCIENT ROME IN
                            THE ENGLISH NOVEL

                      A STUDY IN ENGLISH HISTORICAL
                                 FICTION

                                 A THESIS
          PRESENTED TO THE FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF THE
            UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT
                    OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE
                         OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

                           RANDOLPH FARIES, 2d

                               PHILADELPHIA
                                   1923

                          LYON & ARMOR, Printers
                           124 North 7th Street
                              Philadelphia

                             Copyright, 1923,
                                    by
                           Randolph Faries, 2d,
                            Philadelphia, Pa.




PREFACE


For some time I have felt the need for a satisfactory definition of the
“classic” novel,—a definition which should include novels of value, and
exclude innumerable works of fiction of little or no value. The want of
such a definition was evident not only from the vagueness with which
literary historians have referred to the “classic” novel, but also from
the fact that other students seemed to consider as such any work of
fiction using Greek and Roman names. For a definite selection of theme, I
am indebted to Dr. John Cooper Mendenhall, of the Department of English
of the University of Pennsylvania, whose generous advice I wish to
acknowledge most gratefully, and whose fine sense for literary form has
been an inspiration to me in my work. I wish to express my most sincere
appreciation for many helpful suggestions, to other members of the
Department of English, whose lectures have provided, I feel, a background
for this study. I have also to thank Dr. Eugene Stock McCartney, of the
University of Michigan, for freely providing me with a list of titles,
which has materially aided me in making complete my list of all works of
fiction dealing with ancient Rome.

                                                      RANDOLPH FARIES, 2D.

UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA, MAY, 1923.




CONTENTS


                                                                      PAGE

      I. DEFINITION OF THE FIELD                                         7

           A. Important Novels of Roman Life                            14

     II. GENESIS OF THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE                             17

           A. The First True Novel of Roman Life                        23

           B. The Influence of “Vathek” on the Novel of Roman Life      24

           C. The Influence of the “Byronic Romance” on the Novel of
                Roman Life                                              25

           D. The Novel of Roman Life in a Fully Developed Form         28

    III. PRINCIPAL LINES OF DEVELOPMENT OF THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE
           FROM 1834 TO THE PRESENT DAY                                 33

           A. Novels of Roman Life which Show Evidence of the
                Scholarship of Great Preachers                          34

           B. Thoroughness in Scholarship, Resulting in Part
                from the Influence of Such German Scholars as
                Becker—Becker’s “Gallus”                                62

           C. German Followers of Scott—The German Novel of Roman
                Life; Its Influence on the English Novel                65

           D. Two Pedantic Novels of Roman Life                         73

           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                            75

           F. Influence of French Novels of Roman Life                  90

           G. Novels Written by Teachers of Roman History or of
                the Classics                                            96

           H. Novels Written by Authors Who Have Portrayed Roman
                Life from an Esthetic Viewpoint                        108

     IV. IN CONCLUSION                                                 121

         BIBLIOGRAPHY                                                  124




I

DEFINITION OF THE FIELD


It is my purpose in this study to show the use which the English
historical novel has made of the rich and abundant material furnished
by the life of ancient Rome. In doing this I shall trace the genesis of
the novel of Roman life and its development, with special emphasis upon
elements of permanent value. As an aid to a clear perception of this
latter point, I shall give a carefully selected list of the best novels
of Roman life, pointing out their claims to greatness. At the end of my
study will be found a complete list of all books which make any pretense
of presenting Roman life in the form of a novel.

Since ancient Rome is often associated with ancient Greece in classical
study, the question may arise as to why novels dealing with life in
ancient Greece are excluded from consideration here. The answer is that
comparatively few such novels have been written. The author who writes
of ancient Rome has at his disposal abundant materials from which he may
construct a novel; he who writes of the life of ancient Greece finds his
sources somewhat more limited. Another consideration which has influenced
authors is that modern life is more immediately related to the life of
ancient Rome than to that of ancient Greece. The classic period of Greek
history was of comparatively short duration, and, in one sense, the life
of ancient Greece lost its identity even before it was absorbed by the
life of the Roman empire; while the life of ancient Rome made itself felt
in the most remote parts of the widely extended Roman world. We must give
full recognition to ancient Greece for her contribution to the world’s
culture, yet admit that her influence upon the world today has been
overshadowed by the power of Rome. The story of Rome’s power, rather than
that of the culture of Greece, has found expression in the modern novel.

A novelist who writes of ancient Rome may deal with any period of
Rome’s history, from the traditional date of the founding of the city
to the time at which Rome ceased to be the head of the western Empire.
A convenient division is made when we speak of (1) Rome before the
Empire, (2) Rome under the Empire. Pre-imperial Rome has furnished the
inspiration for comparatively few novels. Since, however, some of these
are of great merit, it will be well to examine certain portions of Rome’s
early history with which they are connected. One excellent novel[1]
deals with prehistoric Italy and the first faint beginnings of Roman
things. Immediately following the legendary period of her existence,
Rome was chiefly concerned with struggles with her Italian neighbors;
these struggles have inspired no great novel in English, though several
good books for boys have been written about them. The desperate conflict
between Rome and Carthage offers material for a novel of strong appeal.
But the stirring times of the later Republic present the best field for
the novel of pre-Imperial Rome.[2] The period of the Empire, however,
when Rome was undisputed mistress of the world, is the time which has
appealed to most of the novelists who write of ancient Rome.

The number of novels or of books masquerading as novels, which make some
use of Roman life as a background, is large; many of these purport to be
what they are not. So, if one reviews even a small portion of the entire
number, it becomes obvious that many, if not most of them, are neither
literature nor anything else of value. There is one class of novels,
whose purpose is not primarily to represent life in ancient Rome, but to
make other work attractive by the addition of artificial coloring. The
use of such superficial aid in a novel nearly always reveals the absence
of any serious purpose. This lack of seriousness is well illustrated
by the work of Sir Rider Haggard in such pseudo-historical novels as
_Cleopatra_, and _Pearl Maiden_. A novel which seems to come a little
closer to being truly “historical,” is _Unto Caesar_, by the Baroness
Orczy; but, on closer examination, this book is found to belong to the
“artificial” class we are discussing. It makes use of a few striking
facts in the life of Caligula; but the deep significance of these
facts and of its quotations from the Bible, is entirely lost, owing to
the light and cheap sentimentality which pervades the whole volume. A
further illustration of pseudo-sanctity is seen in the recently published
novel of Dr. Burris Jenkins, _Princess Salome_.[3] When fantastic and
improbable stories are woven around historical characters in a novel; or
when facts of deep historical significance are made to aid the novelist
in a frivolous pretense to serious work; the result is sure to be a
work of small merit. Novels in which a supposed setting of Roman life
merely conceals inferior work and makes it appear attractive, will not be
considered in this study.

There is a second class of books whose chief purpose is not portrayal of
life in ancient Rome, but rather a kind of religious propaganda. They
set forth in the form of fiction, some story inspired by the records of
the New Testament, or taken from the chronicles of Church history. Not
all of these books are to be called novels, but they have been produced
in large numbers, and have a significant relation to the kind of novel
we are considering. Many stories of the early Christians, particularly
of martyrs in the arena, may be told in such a way as to portray the
life of Rome very inadequately. They often ignore the pagan point of
view, and in most cases deliberately misrepresent it. In such a book as
Cardinal Wiseman’s _Fabiola_, (1855), the Emperor and his soldiers are
mere abstract representatives of power and evil; while the Christians
artificially personify virtue and martyrdom. The work of Mrs. J. B.
Peploe Webb is well represented by _Pomponia_,[4] a moral story of
supposed religious experience. Many such books have been written since
1850, and published by religious publication societies. They usually
present merely a stereotyped analysis of the character of some Christian
martyr, while a smattering of history is used to blindfold, rather than
to enlighten the reader. A novel which is truly to portray the life of
ancient Rome may well include within its scope the life of the early
Christians, but we shall not consider those books which deliberately
present either Christians or pagans in a false light.[5]

Of special interest to the teacher of history are juvenile stories of
Roman history, written for boys in fiction form, since many of these
truly portray a part of the life of ancient Rome. It must be observed,
however, that books for boys are subject to some limitations not placed
upon novels written for their elders. Such well-known authors of books
for boys as the Rev. Alfred J. Church and G. A. Henty have recognized
that they must present a hero who will appeal especially to boys, and
that this hero must have adventures illustrating schoolbook history.
In Church’s book _Two Thousand Years Ago_, Spartacus is represented as
a truly noble figure, while in _The Young Carthaginian_, Henty makes
Hannibal the real hero. But the technical hero in each of these books is
an idealized youth, who rushes from one exciting adventure to another.
Moreover, both Church and Henty tried to make the study of history
instructive, by introducing into their fictions for boys favorite
incidents of the history books. The result was that their novels for boys
became too heavy with history. The general criticism may also be made
of such books for boys, that they make too much use of the life of the
soldier and the gladiator, to the exclusion of other elements in Roman
life. There is, however, a fairly accurate portrayal of Roman life, from
a teacher’s point of view, in some books for boys; such books are not to
be confused with religious stories of the Sunday-school type, and have a
definite connection with our subject.

After excluding novels which use Roman life merely to make other work
attractive, or as an artificial background for religious instruction,
we find that there still remain a considerable number which attempt to
portray Roman life, but are unsuccessful. The novelist may fall short
of his aim through lack of scholarship, through want of appreciation of
the essential worth of his subject, or through sheer inability to appeal
to his readers directly. There may be found on the shelves of public
libraries, many novels, in which the characters have Roman names and are
supposed to live in ancient Rome; but many of these novels do not really
portray the life of Rome at all. Some of them feebly essay to imitate
books of established reputation, and prove to be very poor imitations.
The present study will be chiefly concerned with those novels which make
a serious portrayal of the life of ancient Rome for its own intrinsic
interest.

We are dealing then with that form of the historical novel which portrays
the life of ancient Rome. The historical novel may be defined as that
form of the novel which makes use of historical characters and events
as an integral part of the story. Ample support may be found for this
definition in the always candid words of Sir Walter Scott, the first
really great English historical novelist, in his introductions to the
_Waverly Novels_. In the _Prefatory Letter_ to _Peveril of the Peak_, he
has the anonymous “Author of Waverly” say, “A poor fellow, like myself,
weary with ransacking his own barren and bounded imagination, looks out
for some general subject in the huge and boundless field of history,
which holds forth examples of every kind,—lights on some personage, or
some combination of circumstances, or some striking trait of manners,
which he thinks may be advantageously used as the basis of a fictitious
narrative, ... invests it with such shades of character as will best
contrast with each other—and thinks, perhaps, he has done some service
to the public if he can present to them a lively fictitious picture,
for which the original anecdote or circumstance which he made free to
press into his services, only furnishes a slight sketch.” Again, in the
introduction to _The Abbot_, Scott says, “I naturally paid attention
to such principles of composition, as I conceived were best suited to
the historical novel;” and this when he has just made it clear that the
choice of a famous historical character[6] as subject is the readiest,
though the most difficult, way to instant success. In a note to the
introduction to _The Abbot_, he says, “There occur in every country
some peculiar historical characters, which are, like a spell or charm,
sovereign to excite curiosity and attract attention, since every one in
the slightest degree interested in the land which they belong to, has
heard much of them, and longs to hear more.” The importance of a theme
based on famous historical events, to an historical novel, is attested by
Scott in his introduction to _Red Gauntlet_. Here he says, “The Jacobite
enthusiasm of the eighteenth century, particularly during the rebellion
of 1745, afforded a theme, perhaps the finest that could be selected
for fictitious composition, founded upon real or probable incident.”
In the introduction to _Woodstock_, Scott says, “Nothing, indeed, is
more certain, than that incidents that are real, preserve an infinite
advantage in works of this nature (historical novels) over such as are
fictitious.” Not every novel which tells a story of the past is a true
historical novel; it must make some vital use of historical characters
and events if it is to be considered truly historical.

But the function of the historical novel is not to teach history as
it is taught by the schoolbook. It is rather to aid the reader to a
sympathetic appreciation of history in the broader sense,—the history
that reveals the life of the past with all its significant relations to
the life of the present. As Scott explains, “The love of knowledge wants
but a beginning—the least spark will give fire when the train is properly
prepared; and having been interested in fictitious adventures ascribed to
an historical period and characters, the reader begins next to be anxious
to learn what the facts really were, and how far the novelist has justly
represented them.”[7] Moreover the aim of the best historical novels is
not to _escape_ the present and carry the reader back to the past, but to
bring the present and the past face to face,—in short, to portray life
as it exists, and always has existed. “The passions, the sources from
which (sentiments and manners) must spring in all their modifications,
are generally the same in all ranks and conditions, all countries and
ages; and it follows as a matter of course, that the opinions, habits
of thinking, and actions, however influenced by the peculiar state of
society, must still, on the whole, bear a strong resemblance to each
other.”[8] An historical novel is great,—when it _is_ great,—because,
in its study of the life of the past, it displays the same qualities
that give value to the life of today. The true test of greatness in an
historical novel may be defined at once, as the test of its success in
portraying the past with realistic effect.

With this test in mind, I have reviewed all novels of Roman life which
a most thorough search has brought to light, asking the question: What
degree of success do they attain in portraying the life of Rome with
realistic effect? This was done in order to obtain from a multitude of
novels of different degrees of merit, a standard representing the best
and most significant work that has been done in the novel of Roman life.
Judged according to this standard, the best and most representative
novels of Roman life are those which appear in the following list. I
have made this list with the intention of basing upon it my deductions
concerning the achievement of English and American authors in the field
of the novel of Roman life.


A. IMPORTANT NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE

  _Valerius, a Roman Story_: John G. Lockhart, (1821)

  _The Epicurean_: Thomas Moore, (1827)

  _Sathaliel, the Immortal_: George Croly, (1829)

  _The Last Days of Pompeii_: Sir E. G. Bulwer-Lytton, (1834)

  _Zenobia_: William Ware, (1836)

  _Attila_: G. P. R. James, (1837)

  _Probus_—later called _Aurelian_: William Ware, (1838)

  _Julian, Scenes in Judea_: William Ware, (1841)

  _Antonina_: Wilkie Collins, (1850)

  _Hypatia_: Charles Kingsley, (1853)

  _The Roman Traitor_: Henry Herbert, (1853)

  _Callista_: John Henry Newman, (1855)

  _The Gladiators_: G. J. Whyte-Melville, (1863)

  _Ben Hur_: Gen. Lew Wallace, (1880)

  _Marius the Epicurean_: Walter Pater, (1885)

  _Darkness and Dawn_: Archdeacon Frederic William Farrar, (1892)

  _Gathering Clouds_: Archdeacon Frederic William Farrar, (1895)

  _The Sign of the Cross_: Wilson Barrett, (1897)

  _Perpetua_: Rev. S. Baring-Gould, (1897)

  _Domitia_: Rev. S. Baring-Gould, (1898)

  _A Friend of Caesar_: William Stearns Davis, (1900)

  _Vergilius, a Tale of the Coming of Christ_: Irving Bacheller, (1904)

  _Psyche_: Walter S. Cramp, (1905)

  _Veranilda_: George Gissing, (1904)

  _An Heir to Empire_: Walter S. Cramp, (1913)

  _Behold the Woman_: T. Everett Harré, (1916)

  _The Unwilling Vestal_: Edward Lucas White, (1918)

  _Evander_: Eden Philpotts, (1919)

  _Andivius Hedulio_: Edward Lucas White, (1921)

  _Pan and the Twins_: Eden Philpotts, (1922)

The above list represents my choice, based upon reasons indicated, of
the most important novels of Roman life. The process of selection may be
carried still further, however; and, using the same standard as before, I
have chosen from this list a dozen novels which stand out above the rest,
and are to be considered the absolute best among novels of Roman life.
This more select list is as follows:

  1. _The Last Days of Pompeii_: Bulwer, (1834)

  2. _Hypatia_: Charles Kingsley, (1853)

  3. _The Gladiators_: G. J. Whyte-Melville, (1863)

  4. _Ben Hur_: Lew Wallace, (1880)

  5. _Marius, the Epicurean_: Walter Pater, (1885)

  6. _Darkness and Dawn_: F. W. Farrar, (1892)

  7. _Domitia_: S. Baring-Gould, (1898)

  8. _A Friend of Caesar_: William Stearns Davis, (1900)

  9. _Vergilius, a Tale of the Coming of Christ_: Irving Bacheller, (1904)

  10. _Veranilda_: George Gissing, (1904)

  11. _Andivius Hedulio_: Edward Lucas White, (1921)

  12. _Pan and the Twins_: Eden Philpotts, (1922)

These twelve novels are of permanent value. None of them are either
obsolete or obsolescent. But for the benefit of those who raise the cry:
“Of what practical good is anything which does not satisfy the present
popular taste?” I wish to make an interesting comparison. After deciding
upon the above list of twelve novels, I came upon _A Classified List of
the Best Modern Novels that are in ACTIVE USE in the Public Libraries
of the United States_. This was compiled with infinite pains by Mr.
William Alanson Borden, not with any scholarly purpose, but with a view
to ascertaining what novels were _most read_. While his list of novels
of Roman life stops at the year 1910, it can be seen that it closely
corresponds with the one I have just given. His list of novels of Roman
life, written in English, is as follows:

  _The Last Days of Pompeii_: Bulwer

  _Hypatia_: Charles Kingsley (given under “Alexandria,” not “Rome”)

  _Ben Hur_: Lew Wallace

  _Marius, the Epicurean_: Walter Pater

  _Domitia_: Baring-Gould

  _A Friend of Caesar_: W. S. Davis

  _Vergilius_: I. Bacheller

  *_Aurelian_: William Ware

  *_The Son of the Swordmaker_: Opie Read

  *_The Sign of the Cross_: Wilson Barrett

Of the novels marked with an asterisk, _Aurelian_ was excluded from my
list, as being somewhat too “gloomy” for modern taste. _The Son of the
Swordmaker_ and _The Sign of the Cross_ were novels of widespread, but
transient popularity. This may be said also of _Vergilius_, but to a less
extent. The three novels on Mr. Borden’s list which I have marked with an
asterisk are the only ones which do not appear of my list of the twelve
best. On the whole, Mr. Borden’s list of the best confirms my own, and
the twelve novels given in the first of the two lists will receive our
chief attention.[9]




II

GENESIS OF THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE


We have indicated what novels are to be given an important place in
the field of the novel of Roman life; but before considering so fully
developed a form as Bulwer’s _Last Days of Pompeii_, let us see what the
soil was, from which such a form grew. Since the novel of Roman life
is a definite variety of the historical novel, we must first consider
the origin of the historical novel as such. The true historical novel,
it has been said, portrays the past with realistic effect. Since the
time of Scott, historical fiction has in the main followed the example
which he set in his historical novels, and it is largely due to this
fact that some authors have attained notable success in portraying the
life of the past with realistic effect. Before Scott’s time historical
romances existed, often taking such a form as to point directly toward
Scott’s work, and even attaining much of his success in such a realistic
portrayal of life. Yet in 1785, Clara Reeve had somewhat arbitrarily
said: “The Romance, in lofty and elevated language, describes what never
happened, nor is likely to happen.”[10] This definition does not seem to
allow that the historical romance had achieved realistic effect at all,
and so does not fairly represent the facts. But it must be remembered
that the definition applied not only to the historical romance, but
also to another form of the romance, which has been called the “Gothic”
romance. While Scott’s work in the historical novel is, in a sense, a
continuation of the historical romance, the “Gothic” romance better
represents the school of fiction which Scott supplanted. For this reason
it seems better to dispose of the “Gothic” romance before we discuss more
fully the early development of the historical romance.

The “Gothic” romance begins with Horace Walpole’s _Castle of Otranto_
(1764), which has no real historical background, though the events are
supposed to have happened in the twelfth or thirteenth century. Walpole
had built a supposed “Gothic” castle, which he called “Strawberry Hill,”
and the castle became a part of the “Gothic” romance. Walpole supplied
this form of the romance with its familiar supernatural machinery,
its ghost, creaking doors, subterranean caverns, etc., which need not
be described here. It is well to note, however, at this point, that
Scott, who adopted some of the saner elements of the Gothic romance,
used the supernatural as something inseparable from many of the real
Scotch characters, whom he described. Clara Reeve’s _Champion of Virtue_
(1777), later called _The Old English Baron_, is to be noted, since it
contains both Gothic and historical incidents. The Gothic romance was
further developed by Mrs. Radcliffe, “Monk” Lewis, and others. Mrs.
Radcliffe especially influences Scott and the later novel. She develops
the description of those aspects of nature which later impressed Byron,
and is undoubtedly the creator of the “Byronic hero.” Her “Schedoni”
is in all essentials Byron’s “Lara,” an individual apart from other
men, with a certain nobility of his own and a “vital scorn of all.”
Lord Byron and his school reproduced certain elements of the “Gothic”
romance, and in turn had an influence on the novel. The “Byronic hero”
and the Byronic passion for the terrible aspects of nature will appear
in the novel of Roman life and assume a prominent position. The Gothic
romance continued to exist after the time of Mrs. Radcliffe; it took
various forms, such as the detective story and the fantasy, as well as
the tale of terror, with its superstitious elements. Down to 1850 it
remained the fashion for almost any novelist to arouse his readers from
time to time by a narration of marvelous or terrible events. The Gothic
romance served to show that literature is not merely utilitarian; even
in its wildest forms, it retained certain marks of the realistic novel,
and added testimony to the fact that realism and romance are, after all,
inseparable. While not making a thorough study of mediæval times, it
pointed the way for Scott, in dealing with this period of the past. It
also had an important effect on the novel of Roman life in its formative
stage, as will be seen.

The so-called “Oriental” romance is really a development of the Gothic.
It originates with the work of William Beckford in _Vathek, an Arabian
Tale_. This was a consummate piece of art of its kind, and had a
tremendous influence on the writing of the time. Beckford built in
Wiltshire, an enormous mansion with mysterious halls and galleries, in
which he tried to realize his dreams of Oriental luxury. _Vathek_ was
written in French and published in France in 1787. It was translated from
the French manuscript by Samuel Henley, an English scholar, and published
in London in 1786, without Beckford’s consent. Among other things,
_Vathek_ is noteworthy for its descriptions of Oriental “magic,” and its
employment of what may be called the “labyrinth motive.” This motive
appears in the stories of all ages, its classic example being the story
of the labyrinth at Crete (which was, perhaps, really a palace). It is
used in some of Scott’s novels (notably _Woodstock_), and in many novels
of Roman life, in which the characters have to pass through a series of
dark and intricate passages in the catacombs at Rome, or cut in the rock
near some city of Egypt. The use of Eastern magic is sometimes combined
with this motive and so appears in more than one novel of Roman life. The
influence of _Vathek_ and the “Oriental” romance, considered apart from
other varieties of the Gothic romance, on the novel of Roman life, is
considerable.

The true historical romance is even more important in its relation to our
subject. In tracing its development before Scott, the first important
example is found to be _Longsword, Earl of Salisbury, an Historical
Romance_ (1762), attributed to the Rev. Thomas Leland, of Dublin. This
romance reproduces feudal scenes such as are found in Shakespeare’s
historical plays, and anticipates many of the elements of Scott’s
historical romances. While the story is told, however, with the detail
of an authentic historical document, it lacks historical perspective.
_Longsword_ stood alone for a time, except for Clara Reeve’s _Old
English Baron_ (1777): this romance of Clara Reeve’s combined historical
and “Gothic” incidents, as already mentioned, and had the effect of
adding historical details to the customary castle and ghost in the
Gothic romance. But in 1783 appeared _The Recess_, which is the first
of a series of historical romances down to Scott, and marks a closer
approach to the true historical novel. Its theme is the same as that
of _Kenilworth_; and may owe something to Shakespeare’s _Anthony and
Cleopatra_, as _Kenilworth_ does. Many of this series of romances do, in
fact, derive their history from Shakespeare’s historical dramas. They
show an increasing attention to the facts of history, which culminates
in the romances of Jane Porter. Jane Porter’s imaginative treatment of
history far surpasses any previous attempts. Her _Thaddeous of Warsaw_ is
almost wholly historical, though deficient in characterization and plot;
while in preparing to write _The Scottish Chiefs_ she actually visited
the places which she intended to describe.

Jane Porter may fairly be given the credit for developing the use of
historical background to a point of perfection, and so preparing the
way for Scott. Moreover, Scott, with all his romantic imagination, owes
something to the “Gothic” romancers, who preceded him. What, then,
did Scott himself add to the historical novel? Bearing in mind our
definition of the historical novel, two points are to be considered
essential in our answer: He added (1) the realistic sketch of the manners
of the past; (2) characters who are real beings, who represent human
nature. These two points are suggested by Scott in his General Preface
to the _Waverly Novels_. It is clear that while he is speaking of two
circumstances which led him to finish _Waverly_, his words are to be
applied to the whole series of the Waverly novels. The circumstance
which led Scott to undertake to reproduce faithfully the manners of the
past was his completion, in 1808, of the unfinished romance of the
antiquarian, Joseph Strutt. This romance was called _Queen-hoo-Hall_, and
described the time of Henry the Sixth; it attempted to give a “pleasing
representation of the manners and amusements of our forefathers.”
(Strutt’s Preface.) Scott perceived that the reason for its failure
was the author’s “rendering his language too ancient, and displaying
his antiquarian knowledge too liberally”; and resolved to avoid the
mistake “by rendering a similar work more light and obvious to general
comprehension.”[11] Strutt showed that the historical novelist should
attempt an exact reproduction of the past; but Scott further made it
clear that the manners of the past cannot be reproduced with realistic
effect, if the author relies solely on antiquarian knowledge, or if he
fails to bring his description home to readers of the present, in terms
intelligible to the majority of them.

Of even greater importance to the historical novel was Scott’s
determination to do for the people of Scotland, what Miss Edgeworth had
done for the people of Ireland,—to bring before his readers real Scotch
people of all ranks and conditions of society, to portray human life in
his pages. Scott is especially a realist when dealing with characters
taken from lowly life; but his realism is not confined to lowly life
alone, as some critics would have us believe. His great historical
figures, it is true, are often given romantic and literary treatment; but
even they do not lack human touches, and in any case, a proper balance
is maintained by including characters who are human enough. What has
made Scott’s novels deserve to endure is his faithful representation
of human nature. The same thing could be said of any great historical
novel, whether it deals with England or America a few years back or with
the remote times of ancient Rome. Scott’s plan in writing the historical
novel, was to create imaginary characters, with all the attributes of
real human beings, and to place them in an historical background,
containing a few historical characters. This plan, in the main, has been
followed by successful historical novelists since his time,—including
those who write of Roman life,—and seems best adapted to portraying the
life of the past with realistic effect.

It may now be asked when Roman life was first drawn upon in what may be
termed “historical fiction”; whether any evidence of this is to be found
before the period when Scott set alike the standard and the fashion in
that form of writing. It must be remembered that classic subject-matter
has taken a large place in many forms of English literature, though it
would be out of place to give examples here taken from other forms of
literature than fiction. Not to mention the very early translations
and reworkings of mediæval legends on classic subjects, it is well to
recall that Chaucer uses classic subject-matter abundantly, and that
his _Troilus and Cressida_ approaches the modern historical novel in
nearly every way, though it is written in verse. If we are looking for an
early presentation of Roman life in a form leading toward modern prose
fiction, we must turn to the allegorical quasi-historical romances of
the seventeenth century. One of them which may be claimed for England
is the _Argenis_ (1621), of John Barclay. Barclay, who was born in
France, of Scotch father and French mother, lived for a time in England
and finally went to Italy, where he wrote the _Argenis_ in Latin. It
describes important historical characters of his own time, but under
classic names. Its scenes are placed in classic countries and the story
is told in terms of Roman life and custom. A marriage is performed in a
temple dedicated to Juno and Lucina, high priests perform the ceremony,
and the bridal party honor Hymen and Apollo. Barclay opened the way for
a series of French romances which were much in vogue in England. This
led to the formation of literary societies, to one of which Roger Boyle
belonged. His _Parthenissa_ (1654), is another historical allegory, like
Barclay’s; it confuses several great Roman wars, bringing Hannibal and
Spartacus into the same scene.[12] Such romances show something of Roman
life in the form of fiction, but are far removed in some ways from the
modern historical novel; and it will be best for us to return to the time
of Scott, and search for a portrayal of Roman life in the fully developed
form of the historical novel.


A. THE FIRST TRUE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE

The first significant attempt in English to portray life in that period
of the past during which ancient Rome flourished, in the form of the
modern novel, appears in _Valerius, a Roman Story_. It is not to be
regarded as a mere coincidence that its author was John G. Lockhart, a
son-in-law of Sir Walter Scott. The year 1821, in which it was first
published, was also marked by the appearance of _Kenilworth_ and _The
Pirate_. In _Kenilworth_, Scott owed much to Shakespeare’s _Antony and
Cleopatra_, a play with a classic subject. And while Scott was showing
how the past could be presented in the novel, it was altogether natural
that Lockhart, a classical scholar, should decide to make use of classic
material in this form. Classic times had furnished abundant material
and true inspiration in other forms of writing. Though _Valerius_ is
not a great novel, it has certain elements of permanent value. It is a
very thorough and scholarly piece of work, well-balanced and accurate
in detail. Its characters, Christian and pagan, are fairly well-done,
and its scenes represent, with some degree of realism, the amphitheatre,
the crowded streets of Rome, the law-court, and the suburban villa.
While Christianity is not overemphasized, the martyrdom of Thraso, an
old soldier, who has become a Christian, is described with real pathos.
The story is laid in the time of Trajan, who is justly represented as
a popular ruler, and not a cruel tyrant. The customary use is made
of Pliny’s correspondence with Trajan, regarding treatment of the
Christians. The book is not without humor, though its general tone is
serious and it contains a little too much philosophy. It was republished
in 1835, the year after Bulwer’s _Last Days of Pompeii_. _Valerius_ may
fairly be considered the first novel of Roman life. This seems to be
implied by Cardinal Newman, who mentioned it many years later in his
preface to _Callista_.


B. THE INFLUENCE OF “VATHEK” ON THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE

In 1827 Thomas Moore published _The Epicurean_. This is to be classed as
a romance, and is akin to and inspired by the work of William Beckford in
_Vathek, an Arabian Tale_. Moore’s _The Epicurean_ takes from _Vathek_
its descriptions of Egyptian magic, and its use of the “labyrinth
motive”;[13] these are things which appear in a modified form in Bulwer’s
_Last Days of Pompeii_ (1834). _The Epicurean_, however, in spite of its
fantastic nature, contains realistic descriptions of the persecution
of the Christians in Africa, under Diocletian, and a contrast of
Christianity with a pagan system of philosophy (Epicureanism). While its
story does not take the reader to Rome, _The Epicurean_ represents life
in Greece and Egypt under Roman rule, and must be considered a step in
the genesis of the novel of Roman life. It represents new elements which
are not found in _Valerius_, but appear frequently in later novels of
Roman life. _Vathek_, which Moore says was his model, has been mentioned
as an “Oriental” romance, this kind of romance being a variety of the
“Gothic”; and when certain elements of the “Oriental” romance appear in
novels of Roman life of this early period, it is more logical to ascribe
their existence to the influence of _Vathek_ than to say that they
merely come from _The Epicurean_. But we have to consider at this point
not only the influence of _Vathek_ as a thing entirely separate from
other literature of the period; for the hero of _The Epicurean_ is the
“Byronic hero,” already mentioned in connection with Mrs. Radcliffe and
Byron. The terrible side of nature, which had appealed to these authors,
appears in _The Epicurean_, combined with Egyptian “magic”; the hero in
passing through the mysteries of initiation is surrounded by roaring
winds and rushing waters. Thus it appears that _The Epicurean_, while
it falls far below the first rank,[14] is important, because it shows
the effect which the Gothic romance, with its various developments, was
having on the early novel of Roman life.


C. THE INFLUENCE OF THE “BYRONIC ROMANCE” ON THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE

In 1829[15] was first published a romance by George Croly, called
_Salathiel, a Story of the Past, the Present and the Future_. It enjoyed
wide popularity and was favorably reviewed both in England and America;
and was issued at different times with variations of the title, such as
_Salathiel, the Immortal, or the Wandering Jew_. Finally it has been
revised and republished posthumously, in 1901, under the title of _Tarry
Thou, Till I Come, or Salathiel, the Wandering Jew_. This last edition
was published in somewhat elaborate style with copious introduction and
appendix, and beautifully accurate illustrations, by Mr. T. de Thulstrup.
Especially noteworthy is the introductory letter of General Lewis
Wallace, who, in making his remarkable choice of the six greatest English
novels, includes “_Hypatia_, and this romance of Croly’s.” While his
choice of the “six greatest” is unusual, he gives very sound reasons for
his support of _Tarry Thou, Till I Come_. General Wallace, who is best
known for his _Ben Hur_, also wrote _The Prince of India_, in which he
handles the theme of the Wandering Jew, describing the wanderings of the
Jew in Moslem times.

Croly was born in 1780 in Dublin and died in 1860. In _Salathiel_ he
follows the school of Byron and Moore, which was dominant in his youth.
The style of the book is marked by a warmth of coloring, and Croly excels
in his handling of powerful situations. The character of Salathiel,
surrounded by perpetual gloom, and displaying a proud aloofness from
other men, has much in it of the “Byronic hero.” The terrible aspects of
nature are also presented with telling effect, and much in the Byronic
manner throughout the story; Croly is at his best in this sort of work
in a chapter, which has been given the title _The Wanderings of a Mind
Diseased_, and which represents the reality of Salathiel’s imaginary
trials. In this chapter the description of a volcanic eruption suggests a
similar description made by Bulwer in _The Last Days of Pompeii_, a few
years later. The scene of _Salathiel_ does not open in Rome, but from the
very start, the reader feels the intensity of the Jewish hatred for Roman
power. The degenerate Roman governor of Judea, Gessius Florus, is well
portrayed in his capacity of extortioner and tyrant. He sends Salathiel
to Rome, and at this point in the story we are given in a brief space
many of the important elements in any novel of Roman life which deals
with the time of Nero. There is the prisoner, calmly condemned to a death
of torture, while the Emperor feigns practice on the lyre; then the fire
at Rome is powerfully described, and when it is over, the blame for it is
attached to the Christians; the Christians are put to death by torture
in the amphitheatre, or torn by wild beasts; they are made to serve as
living torches in Nero’s gardens; and finally the persecution ceases.
Though his name is not mentioned, the martyrdom of St. Paul is told in
such a way as to portray his indomitable spirit and courage in the face
of death.

The scene of the remainder of the story is again laid in Judea, and the
story of events culminating in the capture of Jerusalem by a Roman army,
is taken from Josephus.[16] In this part of the book things Roman are
best represented by the figure of the Prince and commander, Titus, and by
the soldiers and officers of the Roman army. The divisions of the Roman
army are described with great realism, recruited as they are from almost
every tribe and nation under the sun. The fierce struggles between Roman
and Jew outside of the walls, give opportunity for some of the finest
pictures of desperate fighting to be found in any novel. The “labyrinth
motive,” one of the oldest motives in story telling, is used a number of
times in the latter part of _Salathiel_; it is used with much ingenuity
in the description of his entrance into the fortress of Masada by a
secret underground passage; and again, when, escaping from prison, he
finds he has blundered upon the secret rear entrance of the pirates’ cave.

_Salathiel_ is a truly great romance, in which the exalted language is
suited to the grandeur of the theme. While “romance” is the proper word
to describe the book as a whole, individual passages exhibit a realistic
effect which far surpasses anything in the pages of _Valerius_ or of
_The Epicurean_. Moreover, it is sound in its historical basis, for
Croly was a man of genuine learning, classic[17] and otherwise. On the
other hand, it must not be supposed, because he was a curate, that he
wrote _Salathiel_ with any intention of spreading religious propaganda.
The scene in which the Christians, imprisoned and awaiting crucifixion,
exhibit their supreme faith, is one of tremendous significance; but this
could be said of many other scenes in the book. Even if it were not a
story of absorbing interest, _Salathiel_ would deserve a high position
in fiction, for its illustration of great principles in life, and its
powerful revelation of eternal truths.


D. THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE IN A FULLY DEVELOPED FORM

In 1834 was published Bulwer’s[18] _Last Days of Pompeii_, which probably
has been as widely read, and for as long a period as any other historical
novel. Men still live who consider Bulwer among the greatest of English
novelists; and if one were to select only one book for which he is
especially remembered, I believe The _Last Days of Pompeii_ would have
equal claims with such a novel as _The Last of the Barons_, to which
critics usually assign a higher place. _The Last Days of Pompeii_ was a
new thing of its kind; it represents a new departure in the historical
novel, and in the novel of Roman life. It is true that there remain in
it certain elements of the Byronism, which was still so prevalent in
the novel of the day, but these elements cannot merely be dismissed
as defects. There is the Byronic passion for the terrible in nature,
which reaches its height in the unsurpassed description of the eruption
of Vesuvius, and its terrible effects. The “Byronic hero,” moreover,
can easily be seen in the disguise of Arbaces, the Egyptian, who is
surrounded by an air of mystery, and has a lofty scorn of the common
herd of mankind. Moreover, Arbaces, to secure his ends, has recourse
to Egyptian “magic,” the intricacy and subtlety of which had been well
represented in _The Epicurean_. Such motives as these, however, have
already been discussed, together with their relation to the novel of
Roman life. Let us see what Bulwer added to this particular variety of
the historical novel.

It will be recalled that Scott (who must be considered Bulwer’s most
important predecessor in the field), in writing his historical novels,
always made use of historical characters and events, as well as of purely
imaginary characters and events. Bulwer departed from this program, in
the first instance, by reducing the number of historical events,—the
eruption being the only important one. Moreover, he succeeded, with no
loss of effect, in replacing the “historical” characters, which are
usually necessary to the historical novel, by imaginary characters such
as he perceived would be in harmony with the time he described. This
omission of “historical” characters is to be accounted for by Bulwer’s
choice of scene. Having chosen Pompeii (and not Rome) for his scene,
and finding there were no “historical” characters suitable for a novel
portraying the life of this brilliant Campanian city, he decided to make
up for their absence by lending an almost “historical” reality to his
imaginary characters. Scott had made his imaginary characters appear
to be real men and women by reproducing real men and women whom he had
observed; Bulwer, in writing The _Last Days of Pompeii_, undertook the
more difficult task of representing men and women who might well have
lived in the times of ancient Rome,—and succeeds rather well. Around
these characters he decided to weave a narrative which would reproduce
exactly the life of the time,—and in this he succeeds admirably. Scott
had been warned by the mistake made by the antiquary, Joseph Strutt, in a
misuse of antiquarian details. Bulwer was an antiquarian of an entirely
different sort; he revelled in the use of details, but in putting them
into his story, made the whole conduce toward realistic effect. He had
read widely in Latin and Greek literature; he climbed Mt. Vesuvius and
learned all he could by actual observation, filing every detail in huge
commonplace books; he studied Roman antiquities, and compared the results
of his study with the manners of modern Italians. In short, he realized
in his imagination the decadent life of Pompeii as it had actually been
just before the eruption of Vesuvius, and reproduced it in the pages of
The _Last Days of Pompeii_. While Bulwer, therefore, did not reproduce
historical characters and events in quite the same way that Scott did,
he makes an even more concrete use, than Scott did, of that life of the
past which is not recorded in formal history. He views the past from
the standpoint of the philosopher as well as from that of the student of
human nature. Moreover, he seeks for permanent truths in human nature,
rather than for merely picturesque elements.

The title and subject of _The Last Days of Pompeii_, was first concretely
suggested to Bulwer’s mind by a picture of the same title. This picture,
he says in his journal, was one of a collection in the Brera Gallery
at Milan, and was “full of genius, imagination and nature. The faces
are fine, the conception grand.” And as the author says in his Preface
to the 1834 Edition, having chosen for his subject the “catastrophe,
the Destruction of Pompeii, it required but little insight into the
higher principles of art to perceive that to Pompeii the story should
rigidly be confined. Placed in contrast with the mighty pomp of Rome,
the luxuries and gaud of the vivid Campanian city would have sunk into
insignificance. Her awful fate would have seemed but a petty and isolated
wreck in the vast seas of the imperial sway.” Bulwer therefore decided
to avoid the temptation “to conduct the characters of his tale ... from
Pompeii to Rome,” leaving “to others the honor of delineating the hollow
but majestic civilization of Rome.” The last part of this quotation is
especially important to us. Bulwer in his preparatory studies spent
much time in Rome, as well as in the vicinity of Pompeii. While the
story of The Last Days of Pompeii does not actually go to Rome, all of
its important elements, save the description of the eruption, could be
transferred to a story of the Imperial City. Thus Bulwer’s novel not
only shows that the novel of Roman life had become firmly established as
a definite type, but it also points forward and shows the way for all
important novels of Roman life since its time. The mingling of Romans
and Italians, with Greeks and other foreigners in Pompeii, suggests the
hybrid population of Rome; the worship of Isis, and her priest, the
Egyptian Arbaces, suggest not only the varied forms of pagan religion at
Rome, but also the important connections of Rome with Alexandria and
the Nile civilization; the early struggles of Christianity (represented
by Olinthus, and his converts) with these pagan superstitions recall
the even greater trials of the Christians at Rome; the witch of the
crater, with her spells and incantations, reminds one of the Sibyl of
Cumæ and the soothsayers who appear at Rome in later novels of Roman
life. The minor incidents of Bulwer’s novel and his descriptions of the
manners of society also are used in novels whose scene is Rome; the
banquets and revels, the life of loungers at the bath and spectators
at the amphitheatre, the habits and haunts of the gladiators, the busy
hum of the forum, are all things which Bulwer showed later novelists
how to portray. He realized that he must not make his characters talk
in the periods of Cicero, and takes without question the opinion of
Scott (voiced in the preface to _Ivanhoe_), that the historical novelist
should “explain ancient manners in modern language.” Bulwer’s method was
somewhat different from that of Scott; but his purpose was essentially
the same. His ideal is fairly stated at the end of the Preface to the
1834 edition, viz., to present a portrait faithful “to the features and
costume of the age which I have attempted to paint. May it be (what is
far more important) a just representation of the human passions and
the human heart, whose elements in all ages are the same.” How well
he achieved his purpose and realized his ideal is amply shown in The
_Last Days of Pompeii_. Writers of the novel of Roman life who have
followed Bulwer have surpassed him in few respects. Their purpose must be
essentially the same as his; their ideal could not be higher.

Before the close of the year 1834, _Valerius_ and _The Last Days of
Pompeii_ are the only two important novels whose scene is laid almost
entirely in or near ancient Rome.[19] This fact is attested by
historians of the novel; but if one is not satisfied without hearing an
opinion of an author’s work expressed by one of his contemporaries, we
have the tribute of Sir Archibald Alison (_History of Europe_, 1815-52,
ch. V). He says in speaking of _Valerius_, “The most successful attempt
which has yet been made to engraft the interest of modern life on ancient
story: its extreme difficulty may be judged by the brilliant genius of
Bulwer having alone rivalled him in the undertaking.” If there is any
other book written before 1834, which deserves in every respect the title
of “novel of Roman life,” I have been unable to trace it, nor do I know
of any one else who claims to have done so. In considering the genesis of
the novel of Roman life, one may be confident that _Valerius_ first marks
out its general outlines, and _The Last Days of Pompeii_ establishes for
it a complete and artistic form.




III

PRINCIPAL LINES OF DEVELOPMENT OF THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE FROM 1834 TO
THE PRESENT DAY


In considering the principal lines of development which the novel of
Roman life has followed in its development from the time of Bulwer’s
novel to the present day, one fact seems fairly obvious, but cannot be
overemphasized. No important novel of Roman life has been written by an
author who lacks classical scholarship of a very high order. Needless
to say, such scholarship implies the possession of a highly cultivated
intellect, and stands far above mere book-learning or pedanticism. In a
general survey of the field it very soon appears that scholarship of this
kind was possessed by the great scholar and preacher, Charles Kingsley,
and is finely exemplified in his _Hypatia_, in spite of what pedantic
critics have said concerning his “history.” After Kingsley, other great
scholars, who were also preachers, made the novel of Roman life a vehicle
for the presentation of universal truths. Besides such preachers, Ebers,
Eckstein, and other followers of Scott in Germany,—whose classic novels
constitute the most important influence from abroad on the English novel
of Roman life before the time of _Quo Vadis_ (1896),—showed the value of
absolute thoroughness in matters of scholarship. While they sometimes
were led in their careful research to place undue emphasis on minute
particulars, they often succeeded in giving to their work an atmosphere
of universal truth. Novelists, whose principal purpose seems to have
been to tell a “rattling good story” or to present a series of gorgeous
pictures of Roman life, soon came to realize the necessity of scholarly
accuracy, if they would attain to realistic effect. This was true of
Whyte-Melville, the author of _The Gladiators_ (1863), and of General Lew
Wallace, who wrote _Ben Hur_ (1880), though it must be admitted that the
latter was somewhat more of a scholar, and had a more serious purpose.
The success of men who have made a business of scholarship speaks for
itself in the more recent and really fine work of Mr. William Stearns
Davis in _A Friend of Caesar_ (1900), and of Mr. Edward Lucas White in
_Andivius Hedulio_ (1921). But the finest fruits of the true scholarly
mind have ever pointed toward the intellectual, the æsthetic, the
beautiful in thought and expression. The beauty of thought and expression
of Walter Pater’s _Marius, the Epicurean_ (1885), has perhaps never been
surpassed in English prose fiction. Some approach to the quality of
Pater’s work, however, is seen in that of George Gissing, in _Veranilda_
(1904), and an even greater similarity to it appears in parts of _Pan and
the Twins_ (1922), by Mr. Eden Philpotts. Novelists such as these seek
not merely to portray life as it appears to the average observer, but to
make possible a fine appreciation of many things, which exist only for
those who are seeking truth and beauty beneath the surface.


A. NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE WHICH SHOW EVIDENCE OF THE SCHOLARSHIP OF GREAT
PREACHERS

Let us consider first that phase of the development of the novel of
Roman life, which is seen in novels showing unmistakable evidence of
the scholarship of great preachers. A significant proportion of the
limited list of the best novels of Roman life previously given consists
of novels written by preachers. Now in defining the novel of Roman life,
those books were excluded, which make use of Roman life merely as an
artificial background for religious instruction. But it would certainly
be a needless restriction to deny to the novel of Roman life, or indeed
to any form of the historical novel, the liberty to present, directly
or indirectly, any valuable sort of teaching. It is impossible truly to
portray the life of ancient Rome, without teaching many things of lasting
value. Moreover, there is a grave error in supposing that those important
novels of Roman life which are written by preachers have as their sole
purpose the preaching of Christianity; nor do they endeavor to portray
the life of the Christians alone, and to deny a fair representation to
the Pagan life which all but overwhelmed Christianity. A fairer statement
of the case would be to say that preachers of scholarly attainments have
been eminently fitted to write of Roman life through their study of
that period of the world’s history, which is marked by the formation of
the Roman Empire and the beginning of Christianity. Consequently they
have produced novels in which the life of the early Christians appears
naturally as an essential part of the life of ancient Rome. To include
the life of the Christians in the novel of Roman life is not absolutely
necessary, though all of our preacher-authors have done so; but it is
more natural to do so in a novel, the story of which is laid after the
time of Christ, and nearly all authors of such novels have appeared to
recognize this. Finally the scholarly preacher has proven to be the
best qualified of all men not only to present something of the dramatic
struggle between Christianity and the pagan world; but also to portray
the life of Rome in such a way as to bring home to his readers universal
truths far above the level of mere didacticism. Unless such truths are
sensed and illustrated by an author, no portrayal of the past can attain
to an entire completeness of realistic effect.

The first significant novel of Roman life by such an author, was the work
of the Rev. William Ware, a Unitarian preacher of Boston, and thorough
classical scholar. In 1837, three years after _The Last Days of Pompeii_
appeared, he published _Zenobia, or The Fall of Palmyra_. Ware was no
doubt led to write a novel of Roman times by the work of Bulwer and
other novelists of the British Isles, who had done so; though in his
work there is none of the Byronism which had appeared in the work of
Croly, the only other preacher whose novel has been discussed so far in
this study. Just what influenced Ware in his choice of title and subject
is not quite so clear. As far back as 1814 there had been published in
London a work by a certain Miss O’Keefe, entitled _Zenobia, Queen of
Palmyra, a Narrative founded on History_. This combines slow-moving
dialogue with narration of the style of a school history book, and can
hardly be classed as a genuine novel. While it is fairly accurate in its
history, it does not appear to be of sufficient merit to have influenced
Ware in his far superior work, even if he knew of it. A much more likely
supposition is that Ware was first attracted in the course of his reading
by the life-story of the famous queen who dared to lead her army against
the hosts of the Roman empire; he then found further encouragement to
write the novel from the popularity of historical fiction and from his
familiarity with the sources from which the facts of Zenobia’s story are
readily derived. In any case, _Zenobia_, among novels so far considered,
(when published) had been equaled only by Croly’s _Salathiel_ in the
accurate and abundant use of historical facts derived from original
historical sources. Pollio, the biographer of Zenobia, Vopiscus, the
biographer of Aurelian, and other historians, are accurately quoted to
establish important points; and when there is evidence on both sides of a
question, Ware weighs it very carefully. On the other hand, he does not
make the mistake of crowding his pages with notes. These are condensed
within the space of a few pages at the end of each of the two volumes.

_Zenobia_ is written in the letters of L. Manlius Piso, an imaginary
personage who is supposed to have been in Palmyra at the time of its
fall, and who writes to a friend at Rome. Since the first letter
describes to his friend how he left Rome, the scene may be said to open
at Rome, and it returns to Rome when Zenobia has been made a captive by
Aurelian. Moreover, the character of Piso is distinctly Roman, and the
cruel, stern emperor, Aurelian, appears as a true Roman. The military
operations of the Romans before the walls of Palmyra, and the Emperor’s
triumph at Rome with Zenobia as his captive, are well described. There
is thus much of Roman life in _Zenobia_. Its so-called “epistolary” or
“Richardsonian” style, is heavily descriptive, but the general effect
is one of soundness, and the novel is impressive, not dull. In fact,
_Zenobia_ possesses a brightness of coloring and an atmosphere of reality
which seem superior to anything in Ware’s later books. While the minor
characters do not stand out strongly, they are nevertheless real and
human enough. Any deficiencies shown by the other characters are atoned
for in Ware’s presentation of Zenobia, whom the author successfully
portrays as a real woman and a proud queen. Ware is also true to history
in recording that Zenobia had heard much of Christianity, but did not
finally decide to become a Christian. Though a preacher, he preferred to
state the probable truth, rather than to change the facts for the sake
of preaching. In this he points the way for other preacher-authors who
followed him in writing the novel of Roman life. _Zenobia_ was widely
read on its first publication and attained equal success when it was
posthumously published in 1869.

The success of _Zenobia_ led its author to publish a sequel in the
following year, 1838. This was called _Aurelian, Emperor of Rome_, when
it was republished shortly afterward, and goes by that title, though its
original title was _Probus_. The scene of this novel is laid entirely
in Rome, and the supposed narrator speaks as though he had survived
Aurelian, had seen something of the persecution of Diocletian, and
finally enjoyed safety under Constantine. Like _Zenobia_, _Aurelian_ is
written in the form of letters; these letters are supposed to have been
collected by a freedman of one of the characters. While it contains the
story of a conversion to Christianity, _Aurelian_ is not to be classed
as propaganda of any sort. Whatever preaching there is in it consists
merely of a realistic portrayal of the sufferings of the Christians under
persecution. The scenes in which Christians are submitted to various
forms of torture are by no means overdrawn, and the martyrdom of some
of them in the arena is described in a convincing manner. Over-emphasis
on the place of Christianity in Roman life is to some extent avoided
by making the Emperor a more important figure than any one of the
Christians. _Aurelian_ is a book of one important character, the Emperor
being the dominant figure. Ware’s second novel may truly be called a
novel of Roman life, since it portrays faithfully some aspects of life at
Rome in the time of Aurelian. But even in these terrible times there were
other things in the life of Rome than the persecution of the Christians;
and a more complete effect would have been obtained by including some
of these in the picture. The fault is not overemphasis of one element
so much as the omission of others. The author was careful in his study
of life at Rome, but limited that study too much to a single phase of
Roman life. One of his contemporaries, Miss Mitford, in her _Literary
Recollections_, said of _Aurelian_, that it showed “not a trace of modern
habits or modes of thinking;” but this is a purely negative compliment.
The novel does portray something of ancient Roman habits and modes of
thinking; its psychology is good in the case of the Christians and
their persecutors. While not making quite the same use of the larger
facts of history as appears in _Zenobia_, Ware showed his scholarship
in _Aurelian_ especially well in his minutely detailed description of
the Roman system of espionage, and of the traits of character which were
exhibited in the Roman masters of the world. Though its tone is too
sinister for present-day taste, _Aurelian_ made a great impression in
its day, and takes an important place in the development of the novel of
Roman life.

Ware’s third novel, published in 1841, was called _Julian; Scenes in
Judea_. This is also written in the form of letters; and the story is
told in the words of a wealthy young Jew, who leaves Rome, where he has
been staying, and returns to his native land. _Julian_ can hardly be
called a novel of Roman life, since, as the alternative title implies,
most of the action takes place in Judea; and it excels rather in its
portrayal of the Jewish national life, than in its description of the
Romans. A fine conception, however, of the grandeur and extent of the
Roman Empire is afforded by the description of the travels of the young
Jew. Realistic touches are added in pictures of the stately buildings
of Asiatic cities and of wild animals, which are being shipped for the
games in the arena. Furthermore the delineation of the Roman governor
Pilate and of Roman soldiers in Judea is made with masterful strokes. But
the significant thing in _Julian_ in relation to the development of the
novel of Roman life, is that it is the first novel approaching that type,
which has for its central theme the life-story of Jesus Christ. Though it
is beyond the power of any novelist to tell this story with one-half the
power of the inspired narrative of the New Testament, even when feebly
retold, it is of such tremendous meaning, that any portrayal of Roman
life made in connection with it is sure to pale into insignificance.
_Julian_ proved conclusively that a novel which is intended primarily to
portray Roman life, cannot make the life of Christ its central theme. The
Rev. Mr. Ware’s three novels were not only very popular in America and
in England, but were translated into German and other foreign languages.
They were very favorably received by contemporary critics. In reviewing
_Julian_, shortly after it appeared, Dr. R. W. Griswold says, “The
romances of Mr. Ware betray a familiarity with the civilization of the
ancients, and are written in a graceful, pure, and brilliant style.” No
novel in America surpasses the novels of Ware in their importance in the
development of the novel of Roman life before the publication of Gen. Lew
Wallace’s _Ben Hur_ (1880).

The Rev. Ware’s _Julian_ has just been mentioned as an illustration
of the fact that no novel, whether written by a preacher or not, can
successfully portray Roman life, while making the life of Christ its
central theme. _Aurelian_ was also spoken of, to illustrate the more
general truth that in a portrayal of Roman life in a novel, the life of
the Christians should not be given undue prominence. Mrs. Webb’s _Naomi_
(1841),[20] is a story which begins immediately after the time of
Christ, but much of the life of Christ is brought in by the words of the
aged Mary of Bethany and others of His disciples who are still living.
Moreover, the life of the Christians, as contrasted with that of the
Romans, is given undue prominence. _Naomi_ has, in fact, been mentioned
in the first section of this study, and was excluded from consideration
as a novel of Roman life, since it is rather a story of religious
experience. It is now mentioned again to remind one that it is the first
important one of a very great number of religious books that were written
from this time on. In other words, the year 1841 marks, as nearly as
possible, the exact point at which the story of religious instruction
branches off and becomes an entirely different thing from the novel of
Roman life. The Rev. Ware’s _Julian_ and _Aurelian_ are not in any sense
stories of religious instruction, but they suggested to other preachers
and people interested in religious work the possibility of writing such
stories. Thus the story of religious instruction was a by-product of the
early novel of Roman life; but it continued to exist as a distinct form,
and to have an influence in turn on the development of the novel of Roman
life. It is important to bear this influence in mind, even though the
story of religious instruction showed not so much what the novel of Roman
life should do, as what it should avoid.

In 1853[21] appeared Charles Kingsley’s _Hypatia_. This is a great
novel, which in its presentation of universal truths far surpasses the
stereotyped instruction of any religious tract. It is a powerful picture
of the conflict between Christianity and Greek philosophy in the fifth
century. Its author fairly presents the beauty of Greek philosophy,
before showing that the true spirit of Christianity must triumph in the
end. But Kingsley also showed the essential falsity of the teachings of
the Greek schools of philosophy, which his heroine, Hypatia, represented;
and he pointed out in an equally convincing way, that the Christian
Church, while almost entirely shutting out spiritual Christianity,
had become an organization, whose chief end was temporal power. By
considering this last fact outside of its proper relation, Kingsley’s
enemies were enabled to wilfully misunderstand him, although those who
still read _Hypatia_ for its own sake are always able to understand him
perfectly. In fact, the reasons which led Kingsley to write _Hypatia_,
have frequently been misstated. It will be well to consider what the
facts were, especially since they have an important bearing on the
development of the novel of Roman life.[22]

_Hypatia_ is, in the words of William T. Brewster, Professor of English
at Columbia University, “a very decided sermon in favor of spiritual
Christianity.” This explains in part Kingsley’s purpose in his portrayal
of life in the Roman empire of the fifth century. Let it be said right
here, however, that while _Hypatia_ contains more preaching than any
other novel we have to consider, it is entirely free from hollow
didacticism. As its alternative title, _New Foes with an Old Face_,
implies, Kingsley was supporting the cause of spiritual Christianity
against new elements, which were assailing Christianity in the same way
in which it has always been assailed. One of the most powerful of these
elements, at the time when Kingsley wrote, was deemed to be the false
Hellenism which was then trying to supplant Christianity in England and
on the continent. This form of paganism has no uncertain connection with
the Byronism, of which we have already spoken, while its tendency to
exalt Greek philosophy had been beautifully expressed in Schiller’s poem
_The Gods of Greece_. Kingsley’s desire to combat this tendency may be
the principal reason why he chose for his scene Alexandria; since in this
city was best represented the crisis of the dramatic struggle between
Christianity and Greek civilization in the fifth century. But another
important element which Kingsley was fighting,—(and critics have made
the mistake of supposing it to be the only one),—is represented in the
tendency of the Church of England toward Rome. This movement was chiefly
due to John Henry Newman, who went over to the Church of Rome, and whose
_Callista_ we shall have occasion to mention later. But it is interesting
to us to note that the conspiracy to Romanize the Church of England,
which Kingsley combatted, centred at Oxford; and, as has since been
pointed out by literary criticism, the Oxford movement was an evidence
of the Romantic spirit represented by Scott. For, long before Newman
went over to Rome, Scott’s mediæval priest had gained the sympathy of
countless English readers.[23] Thus Kingsley, who is a direct follower
of Scott in the historical romance, was forced to combat the tendency of
Scott’s readers to identify romance and mediæval Catholicism. G. P. R.
James, an earlier follower of Scott, though anything but a propagandist,
had spoken of Rome in _Attila_, (1837), as the “seat of the most
autocratic government the world has ever seen, republican, imperial and
_clerical_.” These words contain whole volumes of criticism, and show
how another writer of the novel of Roman life had identified the city of
Rome with the Church of Rome. This suggests another reason why Kingsley
chose Alexandria, rather than Rome, for the scene of his portrayal of
the struggle between Christianity and Paganism, in _Hypatia_. Had he
merely wished to portray this struggle, he might well have laid his scene
in Imperial Rome, as others have done, and have achieved tremendous
effect. But his opponents would have insisted on identifying the early
Church _at_ Rome with the Church _of_ Rome, and the situation at the
time forbade his allowing them the satisfaction of claiming that the
triumph of Christianity is to be found only in “the Eternal Church of
Rome.” In _Hypatia_ Kingsley in no way exceeds the limits of truth in
his delineation of the faults and hypocrisy of the early Church, though
his opponents could not stand the truth told of what they conceived to
be an eternal and perfect thing, (the Catholic Church). His faithful
presentation of life in the Roman empire, and of universal truths to be
derived from a study of the past, make _Hypatia_ continue to be read as
a great novel which has to be considered as a thing far above sectarian
controversy.

Kingsley’s own idea of what he wished to do in _Hypatia_ is admirably
expressed in a letter to the Rev. F. D. Maurice, written from Eversley,
January 16, 1851. (He writes of financial difficulties, which compel
him to support himself with his pen,—how this recalls Scott!) He then
says: “My present notion is to write a historical romance of the
beginning of the fifth century which has been breeding in my head this
two years.... If there is a storm brewing, of course I shall have to
help to fight the Philistines.... My idea in the romance is to set
forth Christianity as the only really democratic creed, and philosophy,
above all spiritualism, as the most exclusively aristocratic creed.
Such has been my opinion for a long time, and what I have been reading
lately confirms it more and more. Even Synesius, ‘the philosophic’
bishop, is an aristocrat by the side of Cyril. It seems to me that
such a book might do good just now, while the scribes and Pharisees,
Christian and heathen, are saying, this people which knoweth not the
law is accursed.” He wished to turn from English subjects “to some new
field, in which there is richer and more picturesque life.... I have
long wished to do something antique, and get out my thoughts about the
connection of the old world and the new; Schiller’s _Gods of Greece_
expresses, I think, a tone of feeling very common, and which finds its
vent in modern Neo-Platonism—Anythingarianism.”[24] Kingsley wished to
show “the connection of the old and new” in important phases of life and
thought; and incidentally that in any portrayal of life, thought must be
considered an essential part of life. He succeeded admirably in this, in
writing _Hypatia_.

In his desire to “show the connection of old and new,” and to portray
“a richer and more picturesque life,” Kingsley naturally turned to the
times of the Roman Empire. Why he did not select the city of Rome for his
scene, has already been suggested. Nevertheless, _Hypatia_ may well be
called a novel of Roman life. In the first place the scene practically
does move to Rome, when we follow Raphael Aben-Ezra in his travels to
the immediate vicinity of the eternal city. In the scenes leading up to
the defeat of Count Heraclian at Ostia, Rome’s seaport, the presence
of the capital of the world is felt in the background. Moreover, the
scene of the rest of the story is not confined to Alexandria, but takes
one to visit Saint Augustine and Synesius at Cyrene. The allusions to
the powerful position which Constantinople had assumed in Church and
government affairs completes the impression of the Roman empire as a
loosely organized whole. A further consideration shows one that the
important scenes which occur in Alexandria could, without difficulty,
be transferred to Rome, and described as a part of Roman life. The
brutal and licentious spectacles in the amphitheatre, the ostentatious
display of the upper classes, the lawless rioting of the lower classes,
who are sometimes curbed by Roman authority with unnecessary bloodshed,
and much else, are portrayed with a realistic effect, which could
hardly be surpassed in a portrayal of life anywhere else than in Rome
itself. In the time which _Hypatia_ describes, it is true, Rome was no
longer mistress of the world, but there remains an all-pervading sense
of her former greatness. Alexandria, though a city possessing its own
distinctive characteristics, had not escaped the universal stamp of Roman
influence. A few short years before Kingsley’s story opens, the Goths,
under Alaric, had sacked Rome, (410 A. D.), and Alexandria furnishes in
some ways a better example of the many-sided life of the declining Roman
empire than does Rome itself. There is, in short, an abundance of “Roman
life” in Alexandria.

If Alexandrian scenes in _Hypatia_ could be transferred to Rome, a
similar thing might be said of certain characters in the book. The most
truly Roman characters are Victoria and her father, who had been a Roman
officer in the force of Heraclian; these enter the story when its scene
is nearest to Rome. The armed forces of the weak Roman government at
Alexandria are also typical of Rome, whether performing as gladiators
in the amphitheatre, or employed in quelling a riot in the streets with
brutal carelessness of life and feeling. Orestes, the Roman governor of
Alexandria, is a typical Roman official, capable of thinking for himself
when not intoxicated, and bright enough to admit that he is forced to be
a puppet; “a poor, miserable slave of a governor,” who appears to feel
that his very treachery is forced on him by circumstance. Old Miriam is
a sorceress of a type which suggests the sibyls and later soothsayers at
Rome, by whose arts the Romans were so ready to be deceived, and whose
prophecies exerted so profound an influence on the imaginations of the
Romans. One of her victims is Hypatia, whose character stands out with
such strong individuality as the last support of Greek philosophy in
Alexandria, that it would be impossible to make her play her part in a
novel whose scene was laid principally in Rome. But many of the other
characters, major and minor, could be placed in such a novel without
disadvantage; indeed some of them have spent a good part of their lives
in Rome, when the story opens. Figures such as Arsenius and St. Augustine
represent men who had seen the world of Rome, and were seeking refuge
from its emptiness. The tyrannical bishop Cyril embodies a character
which could have displayed the autocratic power of the Church at Rome
or at any other important city of the Empire. Philammon, the real hero
of the story, is the kind of character who would fit in readily in any
environment and could easily be made a Roman. He is the best illustration
of a fact we have mentioned before, viz., that the historical novel
should contain characters who are, above all, human beings. Philammon’s
essentially human qualities gain the reader’s sympathy at once; and as
he is tempted by one doubt after another, one is reminded that the men
of the past were merely human beings like ourselves. Among the Gothic
invaders of the Roman Empire, old Wulf best represents those qualities
which Englishmen have regarded with pride as being typical of the English
race. Pelagia is a type which existed at Rome as at Alexandria. The same
thing can be said of the little porter, and of all the minor characters.
With characters such as these playing their parts in scenes of varying
significance, Kingsley has presented a vivid panorama of the life of
the time, which could only have been equalled by a portrayal of the
life of Rome itself. Without an excess of detail or an undue use of the
sensational, he has succeeded in emphasizing the important points in the
picture, and in implying those of less importance, so well, that the
life of the past is made to stand out in the clear light of present-day
experience.

By portraying the life of the past in the light of universal truth.
Kingsley was able to show, without stereotyped preaching, the triumph of
Christianity over paganism. Greek philosophy had been appropriated by and
identified with the so-called “national” religion of Rome, and had found
its greatest stronghold in the Hellenistic city of Alexandria. Hypatia
herself deserves to have her name made the title of Kingsley’s novel. She
is rightly presented as typifying the last adherent of paganism against
Christianity. The strength of her character lies in the truth of her
words, as compared with the inconsistencies of the monks. And it is to
be regarded as an essential point in the story, that the savage monks,
who represent sham Christianity, merely destroy the body of Hypatia, and
have not even attempted to win over her soul. At the time when Philammon
first meets Hypatia, her faith in herself and her message is supreme and
unshaken. Kingsley’s own words, describing the first impression she makes
upon the young monk, show the germs of real truth and beauty, which that
message contains, in spite of any inconsistencies:

    So beautiful! So calm and merciful to him! So enthusiastic
    towards all which was noble! Had not she too spoken of the
    unseen world, of the hope of immortality, of the conquest of
    the spirit over the flesh, just as a Christian might have done?
    Was the gulf between them so infinite? If so, why had her
    aspirations awakened echoes in his own heart,—echoes, too, just
    such as the prayers and lessons of the Laura used to awaken? If
    the fruit was so like, must not the root be like also?—Could
    that be a counterfeit? That a minister of Satan in the robes of
    an angel of light? Light at least it was: purity, simplicity,
    courage, earnestness, tenderness, flashed out from eye, lip,
    gesture....

The essence of sham Christianity, which pervaded all parts of the later
Empire, and was not confined to the great cities of Rome and Alexandria,
is shown by contrast in the description of the impression the monks had
made upon the young Philammon:

    The men were coarse, fierce, noisy, so different from her!
    Their talk seemed mere gossip,—scandalous too, and hard
    judging most of it; about that man’s private ambition, and
    that woman’s proud looks; and who had stayed for the Eucharist
    the Sunday before, and who had gone out after the sermon; and
    how the majority who did not stay, could possibly dare to go,
    and how the minority who did not go could possibly dare to
    stay.... Endless suspicions, sneers, complaints ... what did
    they care for the eternal glories and the beatific vision?
    Their one test for all men and things, from the patriarch to
    the prefect, seemed to be,—did he or it advance the cause of
    the Church?—which Philammon soon discovered to mean their own
    cause, their influence, their self-glorification.

Criticism such as this the Church of Rome in Kingsley’s day took to
itself, and resented. But Kingsley’s criticism was directed against sham
Christianity, wherever it existed, (not solely against the Church of
Rome). Moreover, _Hypatia_ is not so much _against_ sham Christianity as
_for_ true Christianity. Let us return to Kingsley’s heroine. Hypatia,
the beauty of whose thought has been suggested in a preceding paragraph,
does not remain resolute to the end. Her attempt to prove that all
that is noble and beautiful has its source somewhere in the old pagan
system of philosophy, is as fine an attempt as could be made. But she
has undertaken the impossible, and her failure is certain. Her pathetic
subjection to the hypnotism and magic of old Miriam seems in a way
to portend her tragic death. Her weakness at the end makes it appear
that the author did not intend determination to be her most striking
virtue. Why is it that, even in her martyrdom, Hypatia does not arouse
the reader’s sympathy as some of the other characters do? It would
seem that her position on a pedestal above the ordinary run of mankind
deprives her of the sympathy she would otherwise deserve. But is this
all? Her aloofness from the multitude, her contempt for the rabble seem
almost justified; but are they, in a final analysis of the truth? Recall
Kingsley’s words, “My idea is to set forth Christianity as the only
really democratic creed, and philosophy, above all spiritualism, as the
most aristocratic creed.” Let us apply the last part of this statement
to Hypatia. She denies entirely the salvation of her _aristocratic
creed_ to the common herd, and to such as Pelagia, the harlot. This is
what finally repulses Philammon, in what forms the climax of the story.
Moreover, Hypatia as a last resort has been forced to a belief in the
“spiritualism”, (for such it is), which old Miriam offers, but does not
herself accept. This part of the story shows the aristocratic nature of
philosophy as a creed, and especially the sham of spiritualism.

And now let us consider the first part of the quotation just made. How
does Kingsley set forth the value of true Christianity “as the only
really democratic creed”? He starts by portraying the simplicity of life
in the Laura and of Philammon’s early training. When Philammon reaches
Alexandria, he does not scruple to risk his life for an unfortunate
negress, and he lives with the little porter on the most democratic
terms. Moreover, the generous care of the sick shown in the daily
visitations of Cyril, Peter the Reader, and the parabolani, entirely
overbalances the inconsistency, or even vindictive cruelty, which they
tolerate in the name of the Church. But the most striking evidence of
Christianity as a democratic creed, is seen in the character of Raphael
Aben-Ezra, the converted Jew. If one is assiduous in seeking parallels,
it is possible to see in the early life of Raphael traces of the Byronic
hero. But just as Kingsley shows the falsity of “Egyptian magic”, which
had been made important in earlier novels, so he shows the falsity of
any touches of Byronism which the character of Raphael may display. He
brings this character out of the mazes of self-conceit and skepticism
into something higher and nobler. Raphael, though born to luxury and
aristocratic ease, has drained the cup of pleasure to the dregs, and is
willing to exchange aristocratic ease for democratic poverty. He has
also exhausted the resources of philosophy, and has been thus prepared
to appreciate more fully the higher truth of Christianity. If one is to
draw an inference from biography, Kingsley has portrayed something of
the early doubts of his own mind, in the mental struggles of Raphael.
Raphael Aben-Ezra is perhaps as well-done as any character in the novel.
His calm reflections on life in general make possible for us a more
detached view and a clearer interpretation of the life of the time.
The “philosophic” coolness, (to use a word which he himself despised),
with which he exchanges the role of prince for that of beggar, gives
evidence that he is genuine and sincere. The depths of his character
do not really come to light, however, until in Italy he gets the first
faint ray of genuine hope, a hope which grows stronger from that time
on. He is enabled to consider this hope as legitimate and consistent
with the words of God, whether Christian or Hebrew, by the kindly advice
of Synesius. But Raphael’s real conversion takes place as he listens to
the inspiring words of St. Augustine, who is preaching not only _to_ but
_for_ the rough Roman legionaries. What wonder that he was able to win
them, heart and soul, when, as Raphael says: “He has been speaking to
these wild beasts as to sages and saints; he has been telling them that
God is as much with them as with prophets and psalmists.... I wonder if
Hypatia with all her beauty, could have touched their hearts as he has
done.” There is in this passage the whole essence of Christianity as a
democratic creed. The conversion of Raphael prepares the way for his
intellectual triumph over Hypatia, whom he all but convinces of the truth
of his new creed. And the conclusion of the story, portraying the humble
Christian self-sacrifice of Philammon, his sister and the other important
characters, completes the truthful presentation of Christianity as a
democratic creed.

Kingsley’s _Hypatia_ possesses a depth of insight and a richness of
instruction which are equalled in few novels, historical or otherwise.
But what Kingsley achieved in _Hypatia_ may be summed up, for one who
is studying the novel of Roman life, as follows: First, he gave a
complete picture of life in the Roman Empire in an accurate historical
setting. Secondly, in portraying the climax of the struggle between
Christianity and the Roman world, he showed the intimate connection
and universal relations, of life in the time of the Roman Empire, with
life in the ages which precede and follow it. In the first of these
achievements, no novelist has really surpassed Kingsley; in the second,
no one has come near equalling him. In regard to the first achievement,
Kingsley’s faithfulness to history and to the life of the fifth century,
it can be said that his “history” has been criticised, for its alleged
inaccuracy, by pedants of the malignant school of criticism, for whom
history exists only as a means for tripping up their betters. The hollow
sham of such criticism is apparent, if we merely allow to Kingsley the
freedom accorded to any historical novelist. He has in every respect
lived up to the promise of his masterful preface, in which he says: “I
have in my sketch of Hypatia and her fate, closely followed authentic
history, especially Socrates’ account of the closing scenes, as given
in _Book_ III, _Sec._ 15, of his _Ecclesiastical History_.” He also
follows authentic history in all other parts of the story where this
is essential, adopting the wise method, already discussed, of mingling
historical characters and events with imaginary characters and events.
When he is not making use of history, he is nevertheless true to the
spirit of history. His faithfulness to the life of the times is all
that he promises in these words of the _Preface_: “I have labored
honestly and industriously to discover the truth, even in its minutest
details, and to sketch the age, its manners and its literature as I
found them,—altogether artificial, slipshod, effete, resembling far
more the times of Louis Quinze than those of Sophocles and Plato.” In
regard to Kingsley’s second achievement in _Hypatia_, it may be said
that in portraying “the last struggle between the young Church and the
Old World,” (_Preface_), he showed the significance of a short period of
history, when fitted into the larger scheme of universal history. In the
conclusion of _Hypatia_, he says, “I have shown you New Foes under an Old
Face—your own likeness in toga and bonnet.... There is nothing new under
the sun. The thing which has been, it is that which shall be.” Other
writers of the novel of Roman life have shown with consummate art the
thing which has been,—Christian and Pagan; none have equalled Kingsley
in showing that it is also the thing which shall be. And even those who
refuse to draw a moral from any piece of fiction, may read with infinite
profit and pleasure the great novel which Kingsley’s scholarly insight
into the life of the Roman Empire enabled him to write.

John Henry Newman was a churchman, who became a bitter opponent of
Kingsley; his scholarship was profound, and his early religious training,
received from his French Huguenot mother, was along Calvinistic lines.
He knew the Bible, it is said, almost by heart. He was led to go over to
the Church of Rome by his own studies, since he came to believe that they
furnished arguments in support of the Church of Rome, rather than against
it. He came to feel with conviction, that the argument that “antiquity
was the true exponent of the doctrines of Christianity,” really supported
the Church of Rome. In this he was directly opposed to Kingsley. It is
commonly stated that Newman’s novel _Callista_, (1855), was written
in answer to Kingsley’s _Hypatia_, and this is probably correct. The
climax of the public controversy between Kingsley and Newman, however,
did not come until 1864, almost ten years later. In his _Postscript_ to
_Callista_, Newman refers to Lockhart’s _Valerius_ in such a way as to
imply that it is the only other important novel of Roman life, which
presents the struggles of Christianity in a philosophical light. He
thus intentionally disregards Kingsley’s recently published _Hypatia_.
_Callista_ is the story of a martyr in the African Church, under the
Decian persecution. Its scene is laid in Sicca Veneria, near Carthage,
and its portrayal of life in the Roman Empire is accurate and realistic.
The heartlessness of the Roman magistrates,—both in their persecution of
the Christians and in their characteristic strokes of policy in dealing
with the mob,—reveals the spirit of Roman life. Local color is especially
good, the description of the plague of locusts being the best that
exists anywhere in literature, (not excepting even the Bible). Newman
follows Kingsley in making his heroine a girl of Greek descent, whose
ideas of the beauty which she saw in paganism led her to be repulsed by
the religion of the Crucified God. But unlike Hypatia, Callista becomes
entirely converted.

The finest piece of writing in Newman’s novel, however, is the scene
between Callista and Agellius, in which she repudiates Christianity. St.
Cyprian, who had been mentioned by Kingsley, is brought into _Callista_;
and others high in the Church play a part in the story. Cyprian says the
discipline of the Church had become less firm in the interval before the
Decian persecution. The author is thus enabled to show that the Church
was strengthened by this persecution. To mention familiar elements,
magic appears in _Callista_, in the spells and herbs of a witch, which
result in her victim being possessed of a demon; the labyrinth motive
also appears in the description of the secret passages, by which Callista
escapes and which enable the Christians to remain concealed. In any final
analysis _Callista_ cannot be compared with Kingsley’s _Hypatia_. In
spite of some very fine passages, it is lacking in uniform excellence.
In its portrayal of life in the Roman empire, and in its handling of
Christianity it falls short of the deep significance intended. There
is indeed too much theological discussion. While _Callista_ is a novel
of Roman life, and can be read as such, it leans somewhat in the
direction of the story of religious instruction, a kind of fiction we
have mentioned as an offshoot of the novel of Roman life. Here we may
recall that _Fabiola_ by Cardinal Wiseman, had appeared the year before
_Callista_; _Fabiola_ represents the story of religious instruction _par
excellence_. Cardinal Wiseman had been for a number of years Professor
of Oriental languages at Roman University in Rome, and it is likely
that his study of Roman antiquities at Rome would have enabled him to
make _Fabiola_ a novel of Roman life; instead he made it a stereotyped
story of religious instruction. This oft-rewritten horror continues to
afford the young the opportunity to enjoy killing off martyrs to their
hearts’ content. We thus find it necessary again to dismiss the story of
religious instruction from primary consideration, but to remember its
presence in the background. Stories of this kind, by the prominent place
they gave to Christianity, set a precedent which seemed to bind authors
of the novel of Roman life to a considerable extent.

After the publication of _Callista_, a number of preachers, who wrote
stories of religious instruction, were enabled by their scholarship, to
embellish their work to some extent with a portrayal of Roman life. But
even so, their work was often intended primarily for younger readers;
their books are commonly classed as juvenile. Books of this kind were
written by the Rev. John Neale, the Rev. A. D. Crake, the Rev. G. S.
Davies and the Rev. A. J. Church. The last-named author was the most
scholarly; and his work was excluded in Section I of this study, rather
because it was intended for boys than because it represented the story
of religious instruction. In considering the work of preachers, we have
to pass over some years before we come to the truly great portrayal of
life at Rome in the form of fiction, which is seen in Canon Frederic W.
Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, (1892). This is called by its author _An
Historic Tale_, and he distinctly says it is not a novel; but in spite of
his modest estimate of his own work, _Darkness and Dawn_ is a great novel
in every respect, except that it lacks a highly-developed artificial
plot. And such a plot is unnecessary, since the element of suspense and
even a certain unity of effect are attained merely by a faithful and
realistic narration of events, either historical or characteristic of the
time. Canon Farrar saw that the age of Nero supplied the best material
for the work he contemplated; and in portraying life at Rome in Nero’s
time with realistic effect, he has surpassed every other English novelist
who has written of that period, and is not himself surpassed even by
Sienkiewicz, the Polish author of _Quo Vadis_, (1895).

In writing _Darkness and Dawn_, Canon Farrar made full, though judicious,
use of his profound scholarship, which in its thoroughness equals that
of Charles Kingsley. He equals Kingsley’s _Hypatia_ in his portrayal of
life in the past,—“the thing which has been,”—though he does not attempt
in quite the same way to show that it is also “the thing which shall
be.” In spite of its figurative title, _Darkness and Dawn_ does not quite
bring the reader to the same realization of the onward sweep of history,
the march of civilization, the gradual victory of Christianity, that
_Hypatia_ does. But in presenting the contrasts in Christian and Pagan
life at Rome with faithful exactness, and in terms of the life of today,
Farrar teaches his lesson in a different way. While he does not fit his
picture of a period of history into the scheme of universal history in
the same way that Kingsley does, he portrays the life of the time of Nero
with a minuteness of detail which had not been attempted by Kingsley in
his portrayal of the life of the Roman Empire in _Hypatia_. Farrar leaves
the reader more to derive his own lesson from the facts,—but the sermon
is there and may be considered universal in its application. It is only
fair, however, to consider _Darkness and Dawn_ chiefly for its portrayal
of Roman life. As has been hinted, there is a distinct difference in the
method of Farrar’s portrayal of the past, from that used by Kingsley.
Kingsley selects what he considers the important things in the life
of the past, and shows their significance. Farrar, on the other hand,
gives everything which may be of any consequence, with the most minute
exactness of detail. Kingsley’s history had been unfairly criticised;
Farrar’s is beyond criticism. Farrar not only sifts and weighs the
finest points in matters of historical accuracy, but also gives the
most painstaking and detailed description of manners, customs, habits,
dress, and all other things which aid the reader in obtaining an intimate
knowledge of the time with which his story deals.

Between the date of publication of _Hypatia_, (1853), and that of
_Darkness and Dawn_, (1892), there had come about a marked change in
methods of scholarship, especially of classical scholarship; and the
effect of this is to be seen in _Darkness and Dawn_. This change in
methods of scholarship is chiefly characterized by an insistence upon the
minute analysis of historical facts, and of the manners of the ancients.
Its effect upon the English novel of Roman life is due to the influence
of the painstaking research made by scholars, usually Germans, in the
field of Roman private life and Roman archæology; and to the influence of
novels of Roman life which made use of such research, and were written
by Germans. This influence will be discussed more thoroughly, when we
have concluded our study of the English novel of Roman life as written by
Churchmen.

The time of Nero’s reign at Rome is so crowded with historical events of
interest that Farrar was enabled to make nearly all important events in
his novel, _Darkness and Dawn_, either absolutely true to history, or so
closely connected with history, that they might actually have happened
at the time when they are supposed to have happened. The few unimportant
and intentional anachronisms he has made are explained candidly in his
preface. The events described in the novel, though nearly all of them
actually happened in Nero’s reign, represent in kind and variety nearly
all events which are narrated in other important novels of Roman life.
The scenes portrayed are all thoroughly typical of life in ancient
Rome. Neither Christian nor pagan life is overemphasized, although a
natural and truthful contrast is made of them. Scenes in Nero’s palace,
in the forum, in the crowded streets of Rome, at the amphitheatre, at
the law-courts, and occasionally in the fashionable suburbs of the
city, or at Nero’s various resorts away from Rome, are portrayed with
a fidelity which cannot be questioned. And wherever it is possible to
make a scene of realistic effect out of an actual historical event, or
to add historical details to a scene which significantly portrays Roman
life, the author does so. Yet in spite of the fact that so many scenes
in Farrar’s novel are taken from history, it is by no means made heavy
or overcrowded, with historical detail. Every detail is made significant
and interesting, and put in its proper place, so that the general effort
is not one of laborious effort but of consummate art. The minutiae of
the picture, while effective in themselves, do not obscure its larger
lines. Few authors could have presented such a mass of historical detail
and intimate information of the life of Rome in a single volume with such
fine realistic effect. Farrar was able to make his scholarship count in
producing a noble work of fiction; while others in attempting a similar
thing were only able to compile what were practically dry hand-books of
Roman antiquities.

In its portrayal of character _Darkness and Dawn_ is equally true to
life and history. So much is known of so many important historical
characters of Nero’s time, that it becomes not only possible, but even
advisable, to make use of only historical characters in a novel which
deals with this period. Realizing this, Farrar dispensed almost entirely
with imaginary characters. But he selected a large number of historical
characters representing all ranks and conditions of life. And since some
of these are taken from humble life, and do not play an important part in
history, the author found it necessary to describe the course of their
lives from his own imagination, aided by his thorough knowledge of the
life of the time. It proved, for example, a very happy device to devote
a considerable part of the narrative to a description of the wanderings
of the runaway slave, Onesimus; for by this means the author was able to
bring in many incidents, showing the variety of experiences that even
a Roman slave might have. Onesimus is in fear of crucifixion; and is
actually sentenced to the recognized punishment for a certain offense,
of being thrown into the sea, sewed into a sack with a dog, a cat, and
a viper. He also meets the King of the Grove at Aricia, a circumstance
which reminds one of perhaps the most “pagan” of pagan customs surviving
in the vicinity of Rome, as late as the time of Nero. Only a few of
Farrar’s characters are unimportant historically, while the mere names of
the others remind the reader of history. Agrippina, Nero, Seneca, Burrus,
Pomponia, Acte, Poppæa, Tigellinus, St. John, and St. Paul are all
important historical figures. Farrar relates with accurate historical
detail all the necessary facts concerning them; but he really brings them
out of the realm of mere history, and makes them stand before one as real
men and women like ourselves.

Where Farrar particularly excels is in his portrayal of the development
of character; and in his delineation of the aspect which a conspicuous
character will assume in the presence of death or of a great emergency.
The portrayal of the development of Agrippina’s character is particularly
fine, even though death takes her from the scene. She is shown as a
character who combines strength of determination with a marked weakness
in certain other ways. Her determination is shown in the pursuit of
her ambition to gain and hold absolute power. Her weakness is seen to
increase from the time when she begins to realize that Nero no longer
feels her influence. She finally sinks to abject despair when she becomes
certain that the nearness of her death is only a question of time. The
changes of Nero’s character are also portrayed with masterful strokes.
At first he is an ingenuous, sweet-natured boy, guided in the main by
the advice of Agrippina and of his tutor, the philosopher Seneca; he
only gives, in occasional fits of temper, the vaguest suggestions of
what he was to become later. Farrar is careful to show that in passing
from the sphere of boyhood to manhood and the duties of imperial office,
Nero carried with him a certain puerility,—indeed remained puerile until
his death. The author also shows how the germs of the most contemptible
qualities of Nero were really fostered by Agrippina, who, while weakly
pampering him, little realized how soon he would outgrow her control.
Nero’s degeneration into the cruel monster and shallow buffoon well known
to history is fearlessly painted by Farrar. His contemptible fear of
death, and self-pity when death is certain, though suggested by history,
are brought home to the reader with a realistic effect surpassing that
of any merely historical narrative. Somewhat in contrast to Nero’s
death is that of Seneca, who was compelled to commit suicide by Nero’s
decree. Seneca meets death with the resignation of a pagan philosopher,
but perhaps not with true heroism. It remains for the Christians, St.
Paul and St. John, to enable the author, by a simple narration of their
suffering, to portray the unflinching courage and sublime hope of truly
great characters in their hours of trial. Neither the stories of these
two saints nor that of Nero’s living torches, is overdone, however. Nor
is undue use of the sensational made in the revelation of the orgies at
Nero’s revels, and the description of scenes in the arena. The author
simply shows Christianity in the lives of a few historical characters
such as St. Paul, St. John, Pomponia, Acte and Onesimus; he is not
unfair, and is thoroughly accurate, in his portrayal of the pagans. He
gives impartially both sides of the picture,—the light and shadow which
the title of his novel implies. Its portrayal of human life, Christian
and pagan, and its revelation of human character, give _Darkness and
Dawn_ the right to share with _Hypatia_ a position of preeminence among
English novels describing life in the Roman Empire, and owing their value
in large part to the scholarship of great preachers.

Canon Farrar’s other great novel was called _Gathering Clouds_ (1895),
and has for its scene Constantinople in the days of St. Chrysostom.
Besides the fact that the date of its story is rather late, the scene
of the novel makes it inadvisable for us to consider it at length;
especially since the author’s other novel has just furnished ample
evidence of his ability to portray life at Rome; and he could gain
nothing by transferring the scene to Constantinople. Alexandria, in which
much of the scene of Kingsley’s _Hypatia_ is laid, has been considered as
the metropolis of a Roman province. But Constantinople in Chrysostom’s
time was not in a province of the Western Empire, but was the capital
of the Eastern Empire. And, while there are many interesting parallels
to life at Rome to be found in novels dealing with Constantinople,
as capital of the Eastern Empire, it has seemed best not to consider
such novels in detail, in a discussion of the novel of Roman life. In
fact, the only other important English novel, which has for its scene
Constantinople when Rome still remained capital of the Western Empire, is
Sir Henry Pottinger’s _Blue and Green_. This is a realistic story of the
riot arising between the two factions, partisans of the rival colors of
the chariot-racing companies, but unfortunately is now out of print.

There remains one other novel of Roman life written by a preacher, which
deserves especial consideration. This is the Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould’s
_Domitia_. If one asks why this novel is especially to be considered,
the answer is once more to be found in a realization of the author’s
scholarly attainments. _Domitia_ reveals a careful and minute study
of Roman history, and especially of Roman private life. It is full of
information regarding the life, habits, and dress of Romans in the time
of Nero and Domitian. Instead of burdening his pages with footnotes in
fine print, the author conceived the idea that such information could be
contained in separate paragraphs and inserted bodily into the narrative;
and in carrying out this idea he was so successful that the wealth of
information conveyed without serious interruption of the narrative, gives
_Domitia_ its distinguishing characteristic. When a Roman galley is
mentioned in the story, the author inserts a paragraph describing such a
galley; when a funeral is to take place, he inserts a similar description
of a Roman funeral,—and so with other details of Roman private life and
custom. History is inserted into the narrative in the same way, but
the author wisely refrains from making too great a use of history. The
time with which his novel deals includes part of Nero’s reign and all
of Domitian’s; the interval between them is covered briefly. The most
dramatic historical episodes narrated are the death of Nero and the
death of Domitian, but other scenes taken from history are realistically
portrayed. Nero and Domitian are also the most important historical
figures, and their characters are well brought out. The heroine of the
novel, Domitia, the wife and supposed cousin of the Emperor Domitian,
is not very important in formal history; but from a few hints given by
history, the author has drawn a character thoroughly human, and such as
might have lived at the time. Her mother, representing the frivolous and
self-seeking type of Roman matron, is thoroughly characteristic of the
time of Domitian. Her father, the soldier who has given his life to his
duty to his country, represents by his character the old Roman virtues,
which still survived in the hearts of a few men. While Domitia becomes a
Christian, her story is not so told as to emphasize Christianity unduly;
and in telling it, the author has given us a notable novel of Roman
life, sound in its history and its revelation of Roman private life, and
presenting a story of human interest.

Baring-Gould also wrote _Perpetua_ (1897), a novel which suggests
something of Roman life. Its subject reminds one that he edited _The
Lives of the Saints_ with an erudition which shows his knowledge of
Roman life. _Perpetua_ is the story of a Christian martyr to the later
Roman persecution at Nimes, in the Roman province of Gaul. The Emperor
Caracalla, by whom the edict for this persecution was issued, does not
appear in the story, and, of course, the life in the provincial town of
Nimes only vaguely suggests life in the capital. But some customs are
represented, which had spread from Rome throughout the provinces. Since
_Perpetua_ was published the year before _Domitia_, it is probable that
their author had some things in mind when writing the former, which he
did not use until he wrote the latter novel. Nimes was selected for
the scene of _Perpetua_, because the author had visited the town and
become familiar with its history and archæology. He was thus able to
reconstruct accurately the life of its people, as they thronged the
festival of the local divinity, or crowded into the amphitheatre to
witness persecution of the Christians. Roman paganism is seen to be
losing its grip, since the pagan citizens do not all take the local god
very seriously. The element of “magic” in pagan superstition is seen in
the deception practiced by the priestesses of the god; they make his
voice sound over the town by shouting into a trumpet-shaped amplifier,
which magnifies the sound. Another familiar element in the novel of
Roman life is seen in the labyrinth motive, which appears when the hero
of the story makes his escape from the prison through a dark, vile, and
tortuous drain. Christianity, while it appears to be still weak, if one
looks upon some of the wavering converts who are represented, is seen
to be growing in strength, when one realizes the unyielding faith of
Perpetua, and of a few others. But too much is not made of Christianity,
and Baring-Gould’s novel is not to be considered a story of religious
instruction. _Perpetua_ is chiefly important to our subject in that
it suggests the work which its author was to do in his other novel,
_Domitia_. There is little use made in _Perpetua_ of important historical
events or characters. The heroine’s name, “Perpetua,” was suggested by
that of a martyr of the persecution at Carthage, whose story is well
known, and does not belong to the history of Nimes. Since the publication
of _Domitia_, no very important novel of Roman life has been written
in English by any great scholarly preacher. Many other preachers have
written books of considerable merit, which portray something of Roman
life; but further discussion of these books is withheld, since they are
primarily stories of religious instruction, or are intended only for
younger readers.


B. THOROUGHNESS IN SCHOLARSHIP, RESULTING IN PART FROM THE INFLUENCE OF
SUCH GERMAN SCHOLARS AS BECKER,—BECKER’S “GALLUS”

We have made some mention of the scholarship of German writers; the
Germans were not the only classical scholars whose influence is important
in our study, but in some cases made an exceedingly thorough study of
the private life of the Romans, and the effect of this is seen upon the
English novel of Roman life. An exceedingly careful attention to minute
details in the study of the private life of the Romans is seen in the
work of Professor W. A. Becker in _Gallus, or Roman Scenes in the Time
of Augustus_, published in Leipsic (1838). This is not a novel at all,
though it contains some connected material in the form of fiction. The
importance of Becker’s _Gallus_ in its effect upon the novel of Roman
life, has been overemphasized by pedantic schoolmen; but it served to
show English scholars the necessity for absolute exactness, even to
the most minute details, in all matters pertaining to the study of the
private life of the Romans. Becker is not in any sense to be considered
a pupil of Scott, though his work was published shortly after the world
had read the last of Scott’s novels. But Becker showed later German
followers of Scott how it was possible to present with minute accuracy
the life of the Romans; and these German historical novelists who thus
portrayed Roman life, had an important influence upon the English novel
of Roman life, as has been suggested in connection with Canon Farrar’s
_Darkness and Dawn_. In _Gallus_, which we have said is not a novel,
Becker says (in the Preface), “His original intention was to produce a
systematic handbook, but finding this would lead to too much brevity
and curtailment, and exclude altogether several minor traits, ... which
were highly necessary to a complete portrait of Roman life, he was
induced to imitate the example of Bottiger and Mazois, and produce a
continuous story, with explanatory notes on each chapter. Those topics
which required more elaborate investigation, have been handled at length
in Excursus.” The “continuous story” which Becker chose was that of
“Cornelius Gallus, a man whose fortunate rise from obscurity to splendor
and honor, love of Lycoris, and poetical talents, render him not a little
remarkable.” The author tells the story of Gallus, wherever possible,
absolutely in accordance with history. He cites as his sources for this
personal history Dio Cassius, Strabo, Suetonius, Vergil, Propertius and
Ovid. He says further that “the Augustan age is decidedly the happiest
time to select,” for a portraiture of Roman manners, since for the study
of Roman private life of that period there is abundant source-material.
He says that “apart from the numerous antique monuments which have
been dug up, and placed in museums, our most important authorities on
Roman private life are the later poets, as Juvenal, Martial, Statius:
then Petronius, Seneca, Suetonius, the two Plinys, Cicero’s speeches
and letters, the elegiac poets, and especially Horace. Next come the
grammarians and the digests; while the Greek authors, as Dionysius
of Halicarnassus, Plutarch, Dio Cassius, Lucian, Athenaeus, and the
lexicographers, as Pollux, still further enlighten us.” In his careful
citation of sources, and careful choice of what were the best sources,
Becker pointed the way for all those who wrote of Roman life, whether
they wrote in the form of the novel or not. He succeeded in making his
work what he wished it to be, “a desirable repository of whatever is most
worth knowing about the private life of the Romans.” Moreover, while
Becker’s work does not pretend to be a novel, and is far too learned and
ponderous to be called a novel, he unconsciously aided later writers of
the novel of Roman life by showing them what a mistake it would be to
overcrowd such a novel with details of Roman private life. At the same
time they might derive some profit from _Gallus_ as a model of accuracy
in such matters. Becker’s work was a step in the proof of the fact that
the later novel of Roman life must be accurate and precise in matters
of scholarship. It is true that Bulwer had done somewhat the same thing
that Becker claims to do in _Gallus_, but Becker’s meticulous regard for
detail, while showing English novelists what to avoid, also aided them to
a more full appreciation of the necessity for absolute accuracy, even in
matters of small importance.


C. GERMAN FOLLOWERS OF SCOTT—THE GERMAN NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE; ITS
INFLUENCE ON THE ENGLISH NOVEL

If Becker and other German scholars showed scholars elsewhere the
necessity of thoroughness in classical scholarship, and added much to
their study of Roman life, it is equally true that Sir Walter Scott
showed the world the possibilities of the historical novel. Needless to
say Scott had imitators throughout Europe and America; and not only was
his success immediate, but his influence on the historical novel was a
permanent thing. Many who eagerly devoured his novels in boyhood became
his imitators in later life. Not a few of these historical novelists were
Germans, and some of their finest works deal with the life of ancient
Rome. The authors of these novels endeavored to imitate Scott in many of
the things which made his historical novels successful; for example, they
saw that the life of Rome supplied them with gorgeous historical scenes,
just as the life of mediæval times had supplied such scenes to Scott.
But they especially resolved to follow Scott in presenting realistic
descriptions of manners, and it must be admitted that some of them
described the manners of Roman times quite as well as Scott had described
the manners of mediæval times. These German novelists, such as George
Ebers, were well fitted to describe the manners of Rome, since they were
thorough students of Roman things; and they had been shown how these
things could be presented, by Becker and other scholars, who wrote some
years before them.

In 1876 was published _A Struggle for Rome_, by Julius Sophus Felix Dahn.
This is Dahn’s greatest novel, and portrays with fine realistic effect
the struggle between the Ostrogoths and Belisarius. In this, and in its
handling of the character of Totila, it suggests the great novel of
George Gissing, _Veranilda_ (1904). Another prominent character besides
Totila, in Dahn’s novel, is Cassiodorus. The scene in part is laid at
Ravenna, and the decay and final collapse of the Gothic kingdom are well
illustrated. In 1882 Dahn began a series of short novels, illustrating,
he says, the spread of Roman civilization, which went hand in hand with
the decline of Roman power over the migrating German tribes. The first
of these novels is _Felicitas_ (1882), which describes the capture of
the distinctly Roman town of Claudium Juvavum (now Salzburg), by the
Germans. The author gained his material when he was employed at Salzburg,
in the archives, library, and museum of Roman antiquities. He added to
his fund of thorough information by explorations in the vicinity of the
town, finding many Roman things of interest. _Felicitas_ well illustrates
the thoroughness of research and the acute scientific spirit, which the
Germans in a measure gave to the novel of Roman life. It also tells a
story of deep human interest. In 1894 Dahn published _A Captive of the
Roman Eagles_, a novel which tells the story of Bissula, and portrays the
struggle between the Romans and the Alemanni near Lake Constance. This
novel is also a model of thoroughness and historical accuracy. Dahn’s
last novel, which appeared shortly after, was call _The Scarlet Banner_
(1864), and paints with a like accuracy the overthrow of the Vandal king,
Gelimer, by Belisarius.

The historical novels of George Ebers, and the profound classical
scholarship he displayed in some of them, are well known everywhere.
While his important series of historical novels, starting with _An
Egyptian Princess_ (1879), is designed principally to follow the course
of history in Egypt, some of its numbers illustrate Roman life and
Roman history. In 1881 appeared _The Emperor_, which presents a fine
picture of life in the time of Hadrian. While the scene is laid mainly
in Egypt, life in Alexandria is shown as presenting a close parallel to
that of Rome. The sternness of Roman dominion in Egypt and the growth
of Christianity in the Empire are brought home to the reader with many
minute touches which show the author’s acuteness. The richly pictorial
style is well suited to the description of splendid scenes, and the
manners of private life are portrayed with accuracy of detail. Ebers
also excels in his analysis of character. The Emperor Hadrian, who
appears first as a benevolent philosopher, soon shows that he is capable
of becoming a cruel tyrant. The character of Hadrian’s wife Sabina
is also carefully analyzed, while his favorite, the beautiful youth
Antinous, plays a prominent part in the story. It is likely that this
gave a suggestion to Professor Hausroth (pseud. George Taylor), who made
Antinous the hero of his novel of that name, which appeared in the same
year as _The Emperor_.

In 1885 Ebers published _Serapis_, which portrays life in Alexandria in
the time of Theodosius, and reveals much of Roman customs. The struggle
between Christians and pagans is represented as culminating in the
destruction of the temple of Serapis, and the demolition of the gigantic
image of the god. This was a result of the edict abolishing the worship
of idols. The dramatic scene in which the temple of Serapis is defended
by a multitude of pagans, who have stored arms there, has appeared many
years later in the novel of Roman life of the American author, T. Everett
Harré, called _Behold the Woman_ (1916). Another interesting point is
that _Serapis_ contains a splendid scene describing a chariot race,
in which a Christian defeats a pagan, after the occurrence of a fatal
accident. This scene may have been suggested to Ebers by the famous scene
in _Ben Hur_ (1880); while on the other hand it is likely that General
Wallace, the American author of _Ben Hur_, owes some of his exactness in
matters of scholarship to the example of such German scholars as George
Ebers.

Another of Ebers’ novels which portrayed much of Roman life was _Per
Aspera_ (_A Thorny Path_) (1892). While the scene is again Alexandria,
_Per Aspera_, like _The Emperor_, shows that city at the time of the
visit paid to it by the Roman Emperor. In _Per Aspera_ the Emperor is
Bassianus, whose nickname, “Caracalla,” was derived from his custom of
wearing a hood (caracalla). The portrait of Caracalla is well done,
showing his physical and mental suffering, his pride, his dreams and his
increasing insanity. The Christians are portrayed in a natural light,
while pagan customs are well explained, and the splendor, display and
wealth of Alexandria dazzle the imagination. The labyrinth motive appears
in the mystery of the secret passages of the temple of Serapis. Scenes
representing gladiators in the arena are characteristically Roman, while
the slaughter of the youths in the parade-ground shows the cruelty of
Rome and the power of her Emperor. Yet Ebers, with his usual insight into
human character, shows that the Emperor, who could cruelly punish those
who had wittily derided him, found his power of little ultimate value to
him. In speaking of the Emperor’s poor health, mention is made of the
great Roman physician, Galen, who plays an important part in Mr. E. L.
White’s _Andivius Hedulio_ (1921).

The next of Ebers’ novels to be considered is _Cleopatra_ (1894). While
it contains many characteristic touches, which show Ebers’ knowledge of
life in what was soon to become permanently a Roman province, _Cleopatra_
is not so much a portrayal of Roman life as a sympathetic interpretation
of the later history of Egypt’s great queen. Ebers, as usual, is
absolutely true to history, but endeavors to present Cleopatra as a human
being, subject to strong emotions, rather than as an historical figure.
Even Antony appears not so much in the character of a Roman general, as
in that of a strong man who influences the character of Cleopatra. The
chief value of Ebers’ _Cleopatra_ lies in the fact that Ebers has come
much nearer to presenting the real character of Cleopatra than has any
other novelist. Sir Rider Haggard’s _Cleopatra_ has been mentioned as a
poor piece of work, while in Mr. W. S. Davis’s excellent novel, _A Friend
of Caesar_ (1900), Cleopatra is merely represented as a young girl.

A beautiful little novel which Ebers calls _A Question; the Idyll of a
Picture by His Friend Alma Tadema_ (1881), is written in a style quite
different from that of his other novels. Its scene is Sicily, near Aetna,
at a “time when the entire earth and air were peopled with gods, nymphs
and satyrs.”[25] It is mentioned here because in its scene, its theme,
and the simplicity and beauty of its style, there is a strong suggestion
of the recently published novel of Mr. Eden Phillpotts, _Evander_ (1919),
the scene of which is prehistoric Italy. _Evander_ gives one an idea of
the first faint beginnings of Roman life in a semi-mythological setting
similar to that of _A Question_.

The novels of Ernst Eckstein were almost as widely read in England and
America as those of Ebers. Some of them equal or even surpass Ebers’
best work. _Quintus Claudius_ (1881), gives a splendid portrayal of
life in Rome under Domitian. The author has presented in a single story
practically the whole life of Rome, and has described the most noted
characters of the time. “The life and manners of all classes at this
period were never painted with a bolder pencil than by Eckstein in this
masterly romance, which displays as much scholarship as invention.”[26]
In this review a better expression than “invention” would be “a gifted
imagination and a deep insight into human nature.” In _Quintus Claudius_,
the character of Domitia is interpreted in an entirely different way
from that in which Baring-Gould interpreted it in _Domitia_ (1898);
but this does not mean that either author was untrue to history, since
little is known of her, save that she and her Emperor-husband were at
variance. In Eckstein’s novel the intrigues of Domitia really furnish
the central theme, rather than the affairs of the imaginary Quintus
Claudius, who spurns her and loves Cornelia. Quintus and Cornelia are
very finely characterized, the former being by no means perfect, and
subject to the vices of the time, although he later becomes a Christian.
Among historical characters the poet Martial is portrayed as the court
parasite that he was. The conspiracy against Domitian is described with
historical accuracy and fine realistic effect. The book ends with the
murder of Domitian and the accession of Trajan. Nerva is mentioned but
not as an emperor.

In _Prusias_ (1882), Eckstein rises to the greatness of his theme. The
story is that of the revolt, in which Roman slaves, under the leadership
of Spartacus, rose against Roman oppression. The character of Spartacus,
in every respect true to history, is made to represent democracy and
freedom. Coming, as it did, shortly after the Civil War had settled
the slavery question in America, _Prusias_ had a wide reading here.
To supplement the fine character of Spartacus, Prusias, the technical
hero of the story, is also represented as magnanimous and farsighted,
well-fitted to aid the great general of the slaves in inspiring them to
fight for freedom. By a stroke of genius, Prusias, who first appears in
the disguise of a Chaldean magician, is conceived to be the brother and
agent of Mithradates, King of Pontus. Rome’s two most powerful enemies
are thus allied against her. While Prusias does much of the planning of
the conspiracy, he does not overshadow the general of the slaves. The
truly great historical character, Spartacus, is presented with a power
not since equaled in fiction, and only approached by the Rev. A. J.
Church in his excellent book for boys, _Two Thousand Years Ago_ (1885),
written shortly afterward. _Prusias_ also portrays life in the city of
Rome under the republic with accurate detail.

In _The Chaldean Magician_ (1886), Eckstein portrays life at Rome under
Diocletian. The varied phases of the many-sided life at Rome are brought
into the picture in many ways, and Diocletian’s persecution of the
Christians is given its due place. But as the title implies, the author
gives especial attention to the magic arts which were practiced by
Chaldean astrologers at Rome. The character of the “Chaldean Magician”
had been in Eckstein’s mind when he was writing _Prusias_, and he took
the opportunity of giving it greater prominence in his novel named
for such a character. In fact, from the date of this novel, the figure
of the Chaldean astrologer supplants that of the priest who deals in
“Egyptian magic,” in those novels which deal with magic imported from
foreign lands to Rome. It became the fashion for wealthy Romans to keep a
Chaldean astrologer in their household, and such a character appears in
Baring-Gould’s _Domitia_, and in Mr. W. S. Davis’s _A Friend of Caesar_.

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.

Wilkie Collins, who wrote _Antonina_ in 1850, is a curious example of a
novelist possessed of rather high talents, yet turning out novels which
were made to the order of the popular taste, and did not have the stamp
of permanence. Collins belongs to the school of Dickens rather than
that of Scott; and he develops the melodramatic side of Dickens, while
dispensing with Dickens’ humor. In fact, in _Antonina_, Collins goes
back somewhat toward the style of the Gothic romancers, who preceded
Scott. Bleak mountainsides, dark caverns and rushing torrents suggest the
“Gothic” terror. The labyrinth motive appears as one of the principal
motives of the story, in that its chief character, a priest of Serapis,
spends his life in digging a secret passage through the walls of Rome,
that he may thwart the Christians by letting in the pagan invaders. This
motive is also used in a description of the secret passages under the
temple of Serapis. Another “Gothic” element is shown in the ghastly scene
at the banquet where guests and host resolve to die before leaving their
couches. While the story describes the siege and sack of Rome by the
Goths in 410 A. D., the invaders are made to appear less like the real
Goths than like the characters of the “Gothic” romancers. In fact, the
few historical characters of _Antonina_ are not very well done, and its
history is not very good. But in writing this, his first novel, Collins
realized that he must be fairly accurate in matters of history,—and in
his descriptions of Roman life in _Antonina_ he sometimes achieves fine
realistic effect.

It would be unfair to brand the excellent work of Henry W. Herbert as
that of a “popular novelist,” since he displays a profound scholarship
not usually found in the “popular novelist.” But it may be fair to
consider that one of his aims was to tell a “rattling good story,” and in
this he was certainly successful. His one important novel was called _The
Roman Traitor; or Days of Cicero, Cato, and Catiline_, and was published
in Philadelphia in 1853. It is a powerful story of the conspiracy of
Catiline against the Roman republic in 63 B. C. The character of Catiline
is portrayed with masterful strokes, while those of Lentulus, Cethegus,
and other conspirators, are also well-done. Cicero, Cato, and the young
Julius Caesar, also appear in a natural light, though of these three,
only Cicero is made to play an important part. Scenes in the Senate
and in the houses of the nobility are life-like, yet not over-done.
The author has succeeded admirably in portraying real men and women,
their thoughts, desires and passions. Scenes of politics, luxury, and
intrigue, ring true to life. Speeches assigned to Cicero, Caesar, and
Cato, are literal translations from the works of Cicero and Sallust. Yet
the author makes them seem as real as though the words were being spoken
today. He also shows a thorough knowledge of the topography of ancient
Rome. Certain “Gothic” elements appear in the story, especially near the
end, where the scene is a dark, dismal recess, overlooking a fearful
chasm. But the general style surpasses that of any Gothic romance and is
suggestive of Scott. Fine as it is in its portrayal of Roman life, _The
Roman Traitor_ is even finer in its telling of a remarkable story. It is
also the only really effective handling of the conspiracy of Catiline in
the form of fiction.

The chief aim of Major G. J. Whyte-Melville in _The Gladiators_ (1863),
is obviously to present a “gorgeous romance,” replete with hair-raising
episodes. Whyte-Melville, who is the first of the brilliantly sensational
writers of the “gorgeous romance” of Roman life in English, is well
known for his novels of sporting life in England. In _The Gladiators_
he portrays the brilliant and corrupt society of ancient Rome in the
first century, A. D., in a way which suggests his knowledge of a similar
brilliant sporting society in modern England. In his use of history in
_The Gladiators_, Whyte-Melville is fairly accurate. While not a man
of profound scholarship, he fortunately found his historical material
in a compact and readily accessible form, in the work of the Jewish
historian Josephus. There is not much genuine history in the first part
of _The Gladiators_, in which portion the scene is laid in Rome; but
in the latter part of the novel, the author followed Josephus, in his
wish to find plenty of exciting and romantic episodes. It is interesting
to note, for example, that the story of the secret passage through
the walls of Jerusalem (which illustrates the labyrinth motive), was
taken by Whyte-Melville from Josephus. Many other instances could be
cited of Whyte-Melville’s indebtedness to Josephus. Croly, it will be
recalled, followed Josephus to some extent, but made a more scholarly and
imaginative use of his material. The latter part of _The Gladiators_, in
which the author relies more on the guidance of history, is better than
the first part of the story, and contains some really fine descriptions
of episodes in the siege of Jerusalem. However, that part of the story
which deals with life at Rome and the defeat of Vitellius is accurate in
its portrayal of some characteristic scenes of Roman times. In general,
_The Gladiators_, while it has an impossible plot, and consists mainly of
a series of gorgeous scenes, may be said to portray Roman life very well
in most of its scenes. It lacks unity in its story and probability in
some of its details, and this is what prevents its having a completeness
of realistic effect.

It would be absurd as well as unfair to call _Ben Hur_ (1880), Gen. Lew
Wallace’s great novel of Roman life, “merely a popular” novel. A gorgeous
romance it certainly is,—but this is not all. _Ben Hur_ has been and
still is “popular” in the best sense of the word. Some of the finest
novels of Roman life, even such great works as Kingsley’s _Hypatia_ and
Canon Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, make their strongest appeal to the
cultured few; _Ben Hur_ appeals with equal power to all. Moreover, some
novels of Roman life interest every one for a time, yet later lose their
power to interest; _Ben Hur_ has become a permanent thing, appealing to
the popular taste of all time. _Ben Hur_ is the first novel of Roman life
in English which has with uniform success combined a high seriousness and
sincerity of tone, with a use of the sensational achieving the utmost
in realistic effect. Such a combination was only partly attempted in
_Hypatia_,—which only makes a limited use of the sensational,—and was
only equalled in isolated parts of _Salathiel_. _Ben Hur_ has been called
a romance, but as one reads it, his feeling is not, “This is romance,”
but “This is life!”

_Ben Hur_ is so universally known, that it is needless to review it
here. It has never ceased to be sold in English-speaking countries; while
it has been translated into French, German, Bohemian, Swedish, Turkish,
Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic, and printed in raised letters for the
blind. Its dramatization has also increased its popularity. Hence we
need now only consider a few points about _Ben Hur_ in regard to its
relation to our subject. In the first place, _Ben Hur_ is definitely a
novel of Roman life, though its scene only goes to the city of Rome in
occasional brief explanatory paragraphs. Other novels of Roman life so
far considered have deserved to be called such, either because their
scene was laid (at least in part) in Rome, or because it was laid chiefly
in some great city of the Empire, (as Alexandria in _Hypatia_), in which
life very strongly resembled the life of Rome. But from _Ben Hur_, more
than from any other novel, one gets a sense of other related parts of the
Roman world. Other novelists, as Croly in _Salathiel_, have successfully
carried their characters to different parts of the Roman world, and have
described scenes, which were of deep significance, but which none the
less were associated in one’s mind with a definitely limited place. But
in _Ben Hur_ from the beginning of the story, when the three “wise men,”
representing the antiquity of Egypt, the learning of the East, and the
culture of Greece, meet and pursue the common purpose of their lives,
one perceives that the important events and even minor episodes of the
story are to be of such tremendous significance, that they throw off the
limitations of time and place. The events of _Ben Hur_ are accurately
assigned by the author to different historical places, but they really
belong not so much to separate, individual parts of the Roman world,
as to the whole of that world. Christ was born in Palestine (the scene
of most of _Ben Hur_), but His message was to the whole world,—and the
world was then Roman. Ben Hur was a Jew, but the message he received was
for Jew and Gentile, Roman master and Roman slave. That the entire world
was Roman in the time of Christ is shown by Wallace with great care and
fidelity. Wherever the story takes one, he meets with characteristic
Roman scenes. Scenes in Palestine show the unmistakable marks of the
Roman oppressor, and the bitter hatred with which Rome’s power is
regarded. We meet with Roman soldiers, a Roman slave-gang, we witness
the departure of a Roman galley, and a Roman fight at sea; we behold the
conclusion of a Roman all-night revel, while the Romans take precedence
over all other celebrants in the Grove of Daphne. Even the chariot-race
scene,[28] the most famous in _Ben Hur_, could have been transferred to
Rome, and is characteristic of the Roman world.

How then does _Ben Hur_ show the coming of Christ into the world, the
material part of which was under Roman sway? The novel is called in its
alternative title _A Tale of the Christ_;—and such it is. The figure of
Christ appears when he is a babe worshipped by the Magi, and later in
scenes near the time of the Crucifixion; but these scenes are based on
Scripture rather than created by Wallace. We have spoken of the fact
that no novel of Roman life can be successful, if it makes Christ the
central figure or character. _Ben Hur_ does not do so; but its author
shows enough of the life and death of the lowly Nazarene to convince one
of His Divine Influence upon the Roman world, which has become the world
of today. Ben Hur as he listened to the preaching of Jesus, and gazed
upon His wonderful countenance, remembered having seen Him before. “That
the look so calm, so pitiful, so loving, had somewhere in the past beamed
upon him as that moment it was beaming on Balthazar, became an assurance.
Faintly at first, at last a clear light, a burst of sunshine, the scene
by the well at Nazareth what time the Roman guard was dragging him to the
galleys returned, and all his being thrilled.” This quotation is typical
of the story of _Ben Hur; a Tale of the Christ_. The mother and sister of
Ben Hur suffered misfortune at the hands of the Romans, and were only
freed from the cruelty of the Roman world by their acceptance of and
meeting with The Master. Lew Wallace is equally great in his portrayal of
the material life of Rome and the spiritual life of Christ.

Having chosen his subject, Wallace wisely refrained from making any
very great use of Roman history, or of Roman historical characters
not important in the Bible story. But just as the scenes of his novel
are typical of life in the Roman world, so his characters exhibit the
variety of race, creed and nationality to be found in the people Rome
ruled. Beside a number of different types of Hebrew character which the
author portrays, there are at least two kinds of Romans in _Ben Hur_,
the proud, cruel oppressor, in Messala, and the magnanimous benefactor,
in Quintus Arrius. Other characters represent the sage of whatever
nationality, the youthful Greek with his perfect physical beauty, the
Arab sheik, the seductive siren of the Nile, the devout Christian, and
the pagan priestess. But Wallace does not rely too much on atmosphere or
local color. His knowledge of Roman history was sound. While Messala, an
imaginary character, is important in the story, Sejanus, who controlled
the politics of Rome, is given his proper place in the background.
In fact, the scholarship of Wallace was sound in every way. While he
did not finish his schooling according to the prescribed course, he
completed his own education more thoroughly than most men do. He was a
great reader of good books, and at the age of 19, had read every book
in his father’s library,—700 standard works. He continued to be a great
reader and student, and formed a large library of his own. Besides his
reading Wallace had a rich experience of life on the battlefield and in
public life, and was peculiarly well fitted to understand with sympathy
all sorts and conditions of men. _Ben Hur_ is the only other novel of
Roman life, besides _Salathiel_, to arouse successfully the reader’s
sympathy for a Jewish hero. In his presentation of Ben Hur as a slave,
Wallace showed his realization of antiquity of the slavery question; and
he had shortly before done his part in settling forever that question.
His sympathetic understanding of men, women, and little children of the
present aided him in portraying with sympathy various types of character
seen in the life of the past. _Ben Hur_ is a novel which voices the hopes
and aspirations of the common people of all the world.

Any estimate of the absolute value of Ben Hur must place Lew Wallace’s
novel very high indeed. If one discounts the great influence the book has
had upon its many readers, and considers it simply as a piece of art,
it still ranks very high. While _Ben Hur_ is said to have brought its
author more sudden fame than any other novel has brought to an American
author, this fame which came suddenly, did not as suddenly depart. If he
is judged by the merits of _Ben Hur_, Wallace deserves to be ranked, as a
novelist, with other great American novelists, such as Cooper, Hawthorne
and Howells. In the opinion of a noted authority on American literature,
_Ben Hur_ “is in every respect a great novel.”[29] And it is impossible
to differ with this opinion. Reduced to its lowest terms, all adverse
criticism of _Ben Hur_ lies in an arraignment of its so-called “faulty
syntax.” Those who make this criticism in every case fail to give any
quotation in illustration of their view, or to be specific in any other
way. If one were to go through _Ben Hur_ hunting for irregularities
of syntax, doubtless he could find them just as easily as they may be
found in the work of almost any other great novelist,—and perhaps no
more easily. It is doubtful if the great majority of reviewers who have
criticised the syntax of _Ben Hur_ have had any thorough appreciation
of what syntax is. Moreover, to quote a recent work on style, by a
classical scholar, who is speaking of the style of Sophocles, it seems
“that liberties of this kind are not confined to any particular stage
of literary history, but are mainly due to the individual bent of the
writer’s genius. No ancient author, however, has carried them to a
greater length than Sophocles, ... he rejoices in those confusions
of _syntax_ ... by which one construction is suddenly merged in
another.”[30] Sophocles has not perished on account of irregularities
of style or syntax, nor will Lew Wallace, for any such reason. The
free style of _Ben Hur_ is well suited to describe its ever-changing
scenes. Nor is the novel to be criticised for looseness of construction.
Its combination of unity and variety make _Ben Hur_ in every sense a
great novel suited to a portrayal of life in the Roman Empire in the
time of Christ. The chariot race, the sea fight, and the disentombing
of Ben Hur’s mother and sister, are thrilling episodes in the world’s
literature; and considered as a whole, _Ben Hur_ is one of the great
novels of all time.

After the appearance of _Ben Hur_ many “popular” novels of Roman life
tend toward a greater or less imitation of Lew Wallace’s great novel.
There is, however, little such imitation in John W. Graham’s _Neaera_
(1886), a novel the author of which displays genuine scholarship. In its
description of the splendor and crime of the court of Tiberius, _Neaera_
depends much on the _Annals_ of Tacitus, which furnishes the best source
for such a description of the Rome of Tiberius. The character of the
gloomy Emperor is well drawn, as are also those of Sejanus, his mistress
Livia, and Lygdus, the eunuch. Domitius Afer is made prominent, and
through him we learn of the methods of the Emperor and others who make
use of the ruffians of the Subura to attain their ends. The banquet of
Apicius, and his suicide furnish the material for a realistic description
of manners.

An example of a very poor kind of “popular” historical novel is found
in _The Son of a Star_ (1888), by B. W. Richardson. This is a wildly
fantastic romance which bears on the title page a quotation from Horace,
“Ficta voluptatis causa sit proxima veris,” but is certainly very far
from the truth in most respects. While _The Son of a Star_ makes
occasional brief displays of accurate scholarship, chiefly borrowed from
other novelists, its loose construction and false atmosphere make it
a good example of the novel of Roman life “gone to seed.” The bright,
though false, coloring of this romance suggests the work of Sir Rider
Haggard, which has already been excluded from consideration in this
study. His _Cleopatra_ appeared in the following year (1889). This date,
in fact, may be said to mark the point at which the pretended novel of
Roman life, with its artificial coloring, becomes separated from the true
novel of Roman life.

The idea of presenting the life of Rome as a gorgeous and at times bloody
spectacle, with a frequent use of the sensational, reached its greatest
height in _Quo Vadis_ (1895), by the Polish author, H. Sienkiewicz.
This idea had appeared in the English novel of Roman life, _e. g._,
in _Salathiel_ (1827), _The Gladiators_ (1863), and _Ben Hur_ (1880).
There is no need to review _Quo Vadis_ in detail here, since it is so
well known; but let us establish its relation to the English novel of
Roman life. It appeared after Eckstein’s _Nero_ (1889), and a number
of English novels of Roman life of the time of Nero, and may owe some
of its inspiration to these, especially to _Darkness and Dawn_ (1892).
But after _Quo Vadis_ was translated into English (1896), its influence
upon later English novels of Roman life overshadowed even that of Canon
Farrar’s great and more serious work. _Quo Vadis_ has been translated and
read in civilized lands even more widely than _Ben Hur_. These are the
two novels of Roman life which have had the most widespread influence
upon all subsequent novels of Roman life the world over. _Quo Vadis_
adds practically no new element to the novel of Roman life, but puts
certain elements which already existed into a more intensely vivid, and
even lurid form,—in short, emphasizes the sensational. In its larger
outlines _Quo Vadis_ is reminiscent not only of _Darkness and Dawn_ but
of _Hypatia_. It represents the same struggle between the Christian
Church and the Roman pagan world, the same triumph of Christianity.
The contrast lies between the proud, voluptuous, and cruel spirit of
pagan Rome and the spirit of humility and hope of the dwellers in the
catacombs. A personal contrast is seen between Nero, the royal performer
in the circus, and St. Peter, the fisherman who was to rule the world by
his example. Other characters are those familiar to the novel of Roman
life, Petronius the connoisseur in luxury, Vinicius the active young
Roman noble, Lygia the beautiful Christian maiden condemned to the arena,
Ursus the powerful slave, the dissolute Poppæa and members of Nero’s
court, Croton the athlete, Glaucus the forgiving Christian, and others
too numerous to mention. The scenes of _Quo Vadis_ are also familiar,
much the same as those of _Darkness and Dawn_, the picture of the fire
at Rome being especially fine. While the moral lesson exists in _Quo
Vadis_, what Sienkiewicz did for the novel of Roman life was to portray
the life of the city of Rome itself in a form absolutely irresistible to
the so-called “average” reader. Realistic effect was the most important
thing to the writer of _Quo Vadis_; and in preparation for the writing
of a novel which should portray the life of Rome with realistic effect
he traveled widely and made a thorough study of numerous Latin authors,
especially those who describe the life of Rome of the first few centuries
A. D. The result is that Sienkiewicz was a profound scholar; and his
scholarship appears in _Quo Vadis_,—though the novel shows some instances
of error, chiefly topographical error, especially in the description of
the great fire. None the less _Quo Vadis_ is now the novel of Roman life
which shows to the greatest extent a combination of careful scholarship
and popularity of appeal. By 1900, nearly 2,000,000 copies of the English
translation (1896), by Jeremiah Curtin, had been sold; and the influence
of the novel upon popular taste is still important, since it creates
beyond a doubt in every reader’s mind a desire to read further in Roman
historical fiction.

_The Sign of the Cross_, by Wilson Barrett, appeared immediately after
_Quo Vadis_, and, though very popular, is nothing but a weak and slavish
imitation of Sienkiewicz’s great novel. This is all that need be said of
_The Sign of the Cross_ as a novel, since there is nothing original about
it, and its brief popularity was due entirely to the reflected splendor
of _Quo Vadis_. The fact that this novel was turned into a play with some
success, following the example set by the dramatization of _Ben Hur_,
shows that theatrical managers realized the possibilities offered by a
novel of Roman life. Unfortunately the drama of Roman life presented
either on the stage or the screen, has in nearly every instance, become
more a gorgeous spectacle or a sensational melodrama, than a serious
drama. But the drama of Roman life is mentioned here, since it has
induced many who have seen such a play to read the novel on which it
was based. This was the case with _Ben Hur_, which in the form of a
novel offers, I believe, a higher and stronger appeal than any dramatic
production based upon it.

Another novel which definitely goes back to _Quo Vadis_ for its best
scenes, but is possessed of some individual merit, is _Amor Victor_,
the third edition of which appeared in 1902. This novel, by Orr Kenyon,
is also marked by the seriousness of purpose which underlies the
sensationalism of _Quo Vadis_. It particularly resembles _Quo Vadis_
in its scenes in the arena, and in showing the tremendous difference
between the appalling difficulties presented to the Christian at the
time of the Empire, and those which he now meets. But _Amor Victor_ also
shows the similarity of atrocities committed by pagans then and now.
This novel seems to be the first to draw parallels between events in the
past and definite, specific occurrences of the present, taken sometimes
even from personal experiences. For example, the author, in describing
certain almost unthinkable atrocities which occurred in the Roman arena,
shows how exactly the same outrages were committed upon the Christians
by the Turks shortly before he wrote. Even since _Amor Victor_ was
written, these scenes have been repeated in Turkey. Moreover, Kenyon, in
describing the scene in which Arsaces, the giant Parthian, kills a lion
in the arena, is recalling the time when he himself had seen Sandow, the
famous strong man, throw a lion in a public exhibition. This definite use
of an incident, which the author has seen with his own eyes, aids him in
achieving realistic effect. A similar use of an incident which actually
occurred, is made by Mr. E. L. White in _Andivius Hedulio_ (1921), in
which the description of the miraculous escape of Commodus’ chariot from
disaster was suggested by a real accident in the streets of Baltimore.
_Amor Victor_ takes its story of St. John the Apostle from the patristic
writings. It is accurate in its historical coloring. In speaking of his
serious purpose, the author says in a note at the end of _Amor Victor_,
“Newell Dwight Hillis has shown that really great works of fiction are
those which illustrate some vital principle, some deep moral lesson.” The
novel conveys a moral lesson. Yet, while parts of it are also written
in juvenile style, _Amor Victor_ is not merely a story of religious
instruction, but a true novel of Roman life. _The Story of Phaedrus_, by
Hillis, to which Kenyon has reference in his quotation, is more a story
of religious instruction written in distinctly juvenile style. Its hero
does not see much of Roman life, since he spends most of his life in
copying sacred writings in the depths of the catacombs.

An imitation of _Ben Hur_ with some original touches is Mr. Irving
Bacheller’s _Vergilius; A Tale of the Coming of Christ_ (1904). The
author reverses the plan of Lew Wallace, by placing the birth of Christ
at the end, instead of at the beginning of his story. Mr. Bacheller’s
attempt to use the birth of Christ as a climax, to which the rest of
the story leads, is not very successful. His treatment of sacred scenes
falls far below that of Lew Wallace, and the construction of his plot is
poor. But he has described some scenes in Roman life with fine realistic
effect, particularly those which take place in the magnificent palaces
of Rome and Jerusalem. The descriptions of intrigues which take place
in the court of Augustus, show the uncertainty of life at Rome at the
time. The characters are few in number, Augustus and the young Jewish
prince Herod Antipater being the only important historical figures. The
crafty nature of Augustus is portrayed with a very keen insight into the
depths of human nature, and the vindictive hatred of the Jewish prince
forms a marked contrast to the noble, ingenuous nature of Vergilius,
the imaginary hero of the story. Vergilius is a young patrician, and
a favorite of Augustus; his character is not idealized and is quite
representative of Roman times. In justice to Mr. Bacheller’s work, it
should be said that he has not attempted to fill as large a canvas as
did Lew Wallace in _Ben Hur_; his picture of life in Roman times is more
limited in its scope, and more chaste in its outlines. Scenes which make
use of the sensational are not overdone. _Vergilius_ is a novel of Roman
life, containing many beautifully written passages, which give it a very
high position among such novels.

_Lux Crucis_ (1904) is a very readable novel by Mr. Samuel M.
Gardenhire. It is called by its author _A Tale of the Great Apostle_,
and is dedicated to the Rt. Rev. Ethelbert Talbot, Bishop of Central
Pennsylvania. _Lux Crucis_ is, more than any other novel I know
of, an attempt to portray Roman life by taking as much material as
possible from previous novels of Roman life. Everything is thus taken
at second-hand, without recourse to original sources. This method may
show wide reading, but hardly shows thorough scholarship. Scenes in the
arena depend upon _Quo Vadis_; scenes which have to do with St. Paul and
Christian characters suggest _Ben Hur_ and _Darkness and Dawn_; while
other passages, especially that representing the gladiator’s school,
undoubtedly go back to _The Last Days of Pompeii_. The author takes his
history, chronology, and topography at second hand, and apparently he is
confused in his remembrance of his own reading. The result is that _Lux
Crucis_ probably contains more ridiculous mistakes than any other novel
of Roman life. For example, a so-called Briton is given the Anglo-Saxon
name of Ethelred, though he lives in the time of Nero, before the Saxon
invasion of Britain; he is made to come from Brittany, though Armorica
did not receive that name until at least six hundred years later; and he
speaks of crossing the channel to Angle-land, “with a smile.” (The reader
also smiles.) An anachronism which is related to topography occurs, when
the Forum of Trajan is mentioned in this story of Nero’s time, though the
accession of Trajan did not take place until thirty-three years later.
These typical instances of error in _Lux Crucis_ are selected from a
great number, some of which are almost equally bad. It is remarkable
that, in spite of these inconsistencies, the novel is pleasing in its
portrayal of characters, historical and non-historical, and many of its
scenes are by no means devoid of realistic effect. _Lux Crucis_ furnishes
examples of the pitfalls awaiting an author who has attempted a piece of
work requiring scholarship, but has been handicapped by his unscholarly
methods.

Mr. Walter S. Cramp’s popular novel, _Psyche_ (1905), describes the Rome
of Tiberius, and contains much sound history taken from the _Annals_ of
Tacitus. In this it resembles Graham’s _Neaera_, which had appeared in
1886. In 1913 Mr. Cramp published another novel of Roman life, called _An
Heir to Empire_, which is much like _Psyche_ in its general outlines,
except that the story centers in the life of Augustus’ court, instead
of in the life of the court of Tiberius. It makes no great misuse of
history, but adds too many fanciful details to historical episodes;
this in spite of the fact that the novel is formally dedicated “To the
Honorable Rodolpho Lanciani, whose genius touched the dust and ruins of
Ancient Rome and made them live.”


F. INFLUENCE OF FRENCH NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE

Hitherto no mention has been made of the influence of French novels of
Roman life upon English novels of Roman life. And I have found that
this influence of French novels is not nearly so important as might be
supposed, but on the whole, is rather an indefinite thing. But before
concluding our survey of the “popular novel” of Roman life and the
“gorgeous romance,” it is best to say a few words, (regarding the latter
phrase especially), of the influence of certain French novels. In 1862
Gustave Flaubert’s famous _Salammbo_ appeared in the English translation.
While this great work undoubtedly had a tremendous influence as a
“gorgeous romance,” it is difficult to trace this influence directly.
_The Gladiators_ (1863) appeared the following year, and exhibits a
similarity of style in presenting the gorgeous pageantry of the past;
but while _The Gladiators_ may owe something to _Salammbo_, it seems
more likely that Whyte-Melville’s novel was an independent effort to
please a certain element of the public taste. Later and greater novels,
such as _Ben Hur_ and _Quo Vadis_, may have profited by the splendid
example of Flaubert, who filled a large canvas with brilliant colors,
but did not sacrifice truth,—but here again the influence is indefinite.
In fact, _Salammbo_ appears to have stood forth with such tremendous
power that it discouraged rather than encouraged imitation. No one,—so
novelists have thought,—could hope to equal Flaubert’s novel in splendor
of style or in realistic effect. Thus _Salammbo_ has remained the only
great novel whose scene is ancient Carthage. Though its scene does
not go to Rome, no view of Roman life would be complete without some
knowledge of the most powerful enemy of the Roman Republic, whose
life was so closely connected with that of Rome. _Salammbo_ combines
the story of a Carthaginian princess, a sister of Hannibal, with an
account of the Mercenary War. The description of this war of Carthage
with her own soldiers, suggests troubles Rome later had with armies
composed of heterogeneous elements. _Salammbo_ is equally vivid in its
description of the pagan customs of Carthage, particularly of the custom
of offering human sacrifices to Moloch. A few books which describe
the city life of Carthage, or her wars with the Romans, no doubt owe
their inspiration indirectly to _Salammbo_. G. A. Henty’s excellent
book for boys, _The Young Carthaginian_ (1886), describes the political
organization and social conditions existing in the city of Carthage, and
gives a similar description of the sacrifice to Moloch, before taking
Hannibal on his campaign against Rome. _The Lion’s Brood_ (1901) has its
scene entirely in the Italian peninsula. Recently Señor Blasco Ibañez
published _Sonnica_ (1920), which seems to show evidence of his reading
of _Salammbo_. In this novel Hannibal’s siege of the semibarbaric city
of Saguntum recalls Flaubert’s description of the siege of Carthage
by the Mercenaries. _Sonnica_, besides giving a good characterization
of Hannibal, is especially noteworthy for its accurate portrayal of
the stern, bare, and crude city of Rome in the early days of the
republic. This portrayal contains a fine paragraph on the Roman father,
and mentions several historical characters, such as the vindictive
Cato and the slave Plautus. _Sonnica_ does not appear as yet to have
influenced novels of Roman life in English, though it may have given
some suggestions to Mr. Jaquelin A. Caskie, who has written _Nabala_
(1922), an attractive novelette, dealing with the Third Punic War. More
likely _Nabala_, (as everything else in fiction connected with Hannibal
and Carthage before her fall seems to do), goes back for its principal
inspiration to _Salammbo_. Its scenes of fighting outside the city of
Carthage recall similar scenes in _Salammbo_, as does its description of
what goes on inside the city, the human sacrifice to Moloch furnishing
the climax of the story.

A novel written in quite different style by Flaubert is _The Temptation
of St. Anthony_ (1874). This has for its scene the cell of an anchorite
in the time of Constantine, since St. Anthony says in the novel, “The
Emperor Constantine has written me three letters.” In describing the
visions[31] which pass through the mind of the saint, however, the
author makes it seem as though the entire pageant of the past history
of the Roman Empire were passing before his eyes. In his temptation the
saint sees pagan gods pass before him, and he takes on the personality
of famous kings, with their unlimited power to gratify their passions.
In his mental wanderings, he speaks of Athanasius, the Arians, and the
monks of Nitria. This last thought recalls the part which the savage
monks of Nitria play in Kingsley’s _Hypatia_, and the talk of other
affairs of the Church also suggests _Hypatia_. Moreover, the situation
of St. Anthony alone in his cell in the desert is strongly reminiscent
of passages at the beginning and the end of Kingsley’s novel. But St.
Anthony’s strongest temptation comes in the form of the vision of Thais,
an irresistibly beautiful courtesan. This suggests M. Anatole France’s
(Jacques Anatole France Thibault) _Thais_ (1889), which also makes a
portrayal of the beautiful courtesan. Custom forbids English and American
novelists from making such a portrayal in detail, and it is to be doubted
whether they could present such a picture with the realism of French
authors, whose view-point has always been radically different, as regards
the degree of frankness to be allowed a novelist in portraying a man’s
passion for a beautiful woman. The portrayal of the beautiful courtesan
in the French novel of Roman life reaches the greatest frankness in
Pierre Louys’ _Aphrodite_, which is, in effect, a description of the
schools of prostitution in Roman Alexandria. French novels of this kind
have had little effect on novels of Roman life written in English.
However, there is one novel written by an American of French descent,
which frankly tells the story of a beautiful courtesan, and will now be
discussed.

Mr. T. Everett Harré published in Philadelphia in 1916 _Behold the
Woman_. This is the story of the famous Alexandrian courtesan of
transcendent beauty, who is known in the _Lives of the Saints_ as St.
Mary of Egypt. Mr. Harré takes the general outlines of his story from the
_Lives of the Saints_, though adding much from invention. And, while
_Behold the Woman_ shows an individuality of style and a remarkable
power of description, it appears to be a book full of echoes. There is,
for example, some similarity of plot between _Behold the Woman_ and the
_Thais_ of M. Anatole France, in that both novels portray the repentance
and regeneration of the fallen woman.

M. France in _Thais_ had been said to combine “a curiously subtle
piety of imagination with impiety of thought.” (B. W. Wells in _The
Encyclopedia Americana_, 1920.) Whether this criticism is just or not, as
applied to _Thais_, it must be said most emphatically that Mr. Harré’s
work shows absolutely no impiety of thought. In presenting the facts of
life in the Roman world, in _Behold the Woman_, he is making a simple
statement of the truth. Piety of imagination is indeed displayed in the
story of Mary’s conversion and life of penitence in the desert. But
even in such a scene as that in which the supposed room of the Lord’s
Supper is desecrated by the orgy of the fallen monks, the author shows
no impiety of thought. Nor, if one sets aside questions of religion, and
rests his faith on mere morality, can the charge of immorality be brought
against _Behold the Woman_ with any sincerity whatever. In certain scenes
of _Behold the Woman_ there appears evidence of a direct borrowing
from Pierre Louys’ _Aphrodite_, in which there had been an elaborate
description of the bath and toilet of the courtesan, with an extensive
catalogue of her charms in symbolic language. In _Behold the Woman_ the
scenes attending the destruction of the temple of Serapic remind one
of Ebers’ _Serapis_, which had described similar scenes. But Mr. Harré
particularly excels in describing with minute touches the superstition
of the Roman soldiers, who were called upon to destroy the temple and
its huge idol, but feared to do so. Moreover, the brutal conduct of the
military on this occasion and at the breaking up of the banquet at Mary’s
palace, well represents the ruthless use of Rome’s mighty power. There
also appear to be in _Behold the Woman_ some slight suggestions taken
from Kingsley’s novel, _Hypatia_, the same proper names being used,
but transposed; the name of Philammon, Kingsley’s hero, is given to a
character in _Behold the Woman_, who corresponds to one of the minor
characters in _Hypatia_. Moreover, the scenes of riot in the streets
of Alexandria, which appear in _Behold the Woman_, are reminiscent of
similar scenes in _Hypatia_. The two books represent the savage monks in
a similar way; and Mary is able to see through their sham Christianity,
just as Philammon saw through the pretenses of the monks, in _Hypatia_.
But as Mr. Harré says in his preface, he does not agree with Kingsley
that “one who writes of such an era ... cannot tell how evil people
were.” Here he is quoting the preface of _Hypatia_, though he does not
say so. In _Behold the Woman_, he does tell how evil people were; and
justly remarks in its preface that the novel is one for strong men and
fearless women, not for children. The description of the orgy at the
banquet in Mary’s palace is perhaps as realistic a portrayal of such a
scene as is made in any novel of Roman life; but the frankness of this
description is certainly very nearly equaled in Canon Farrar’s _Darkness
and Dawn_, a novel which no one would think of calling immoral in any
sense of the word. The description of Mary’s sordid life in the Brucheum,
the slum quarter of the city, is also realistic, and portrays a side of
life which has been neglected by the authors of novels of Roman life,
even when they claimed to be presenting life among all classes of society.

Other scenes in _Behold the Woman_ are similar to those which are already
familiar in the novel of Roman life. And no matter what he is describing,
the author’s genius and originality have enabled him to portray scenes
from life in Roman times, with a vividness and realism hardly exceeded
in any novel of Roman life. The style of _Behold the Woman_ is richly
ornamental at times, but never too flowery for the theme which the author
has in hand. _Behold the Woman_ could be placed in the class of the
“gorgeous romance” along with such novels as _Ben Hur_ and _Quo Vadis_.
But it shows, more than any other novel of Roman life in English, the
influence of the French novels of which we have spoken.


G. NOVELS WRITTEN BY TEACHERS OF ROMAN HISTORY OR OF THE CLASSICS

Some of the novels which have been mentioned were written by school
teachers or college professors. Charles Kingsley at the time when he
wrote _Hypatia_ was a school teacher very much in need of more pupils,
whose fees would help him make both ends meet.[32] The Rev. A. J. Church,
M. A., to whose books for boys allusion has been made, was a Professor
of Latin at University College, London. But I wish to consider now those
novels which have been written by teachers, who wished especially to
illustrate certain periods of Roman history, or to make the life of some
great Roman historical character stand out with particular vividness.
The word “novels,” as here used, is meant to apply in the main to books
which can be read with pleasure both by boys and their elders; and it
will be recalled, that in defining the novel of Roman life, books written
only for boys, or written with a religious motive, were excluded. The
work of the Rev. A. J. Church is therefore excluded, practically for two
different reasons. But, since it often touches closely the true novel of
Roman life, the titles of some of his books will be mentioned. His _Two
Thousand Years Ago_ (1885) has been spoken of, as following Eckstein’s
_Prusias_ (1884), which is also on the Spartacus theme; but Church’s
book is entirely a book for boys. _The Count of the Saxon Shore_ (1887)
is a similar book on the period marking the end of Roman control in
Britain. _To the Lions_ (1889) makes the same use of the correspondence
between Trajan and Pliny that had been made in _Valerius_; but its scene
is Bithynia, and it is purely a religious story. _The Burning of Rome_
(1892), as has been said, follows Eckstein’s _Nero_ (1889), but even
this book by Church cannot be called a novel, though it is his best
book. _Lords of the World_ (1898) describes the fall of Carthage and
Corinth. Finally, _The Crown of Pine_ (1905) tells of the banishment
of the Jews from Rome in the time of Claudius, of the preaching of St.
Paul, and of the Isthmian games at Corinth. The style of this last book
is characteristic of the Rev. Church’s work; his thorough scholarship is
greater than his power to interest the reader, juvenile or otherwise.

A novel (for so it fully deserves to be called), written before the Rev.
Church’s books, is _Helena’s Household_ (1858). This is by James De
Mille, Professor of Belles Lettres at Dalhousie College, N. S. Though
it has been catalogued as a juvenile book, it hardly deserves this
description. And while it is dedicated to the Rev. John Pryor, D. D., and
shows some influence of the story of religious instruction, it deserves
to be classified as a novel of Roman life. _Helena’s Household_ has a
very good historical background, and contains some very fine descriptions
of life at Rome. The story of Boadicea’s defeat is told by a Briton who
was taken captive on that occasion. This same Briton is made to fight
in the arena, in a scene which is fairly well done. This mention of a
British slave, and the outline of the siege and destruction of Jerusalem
at the end of the novel, suggest _The Gladiators_ (1863), a novel which
resembles De Mille’s book in its rambling construction. Nero’s atrocities
are in the main passed over, though there is a fine description of the
great fire at Rome, which he is said to have caused; and the buffoon
Emperor is described as acting at the games in Greece. Pomponia is not
made a very important character in the story, but her Christianity is
made the excuse for entirely too much religious talk, for a novel of
Roman life. St. Paul and St. Luke are represented as prisoners, and
a fine description is given of St. Paul’s heroic death, though his
martyrdom is not the central theme of the story by any means. Moreover,
the life of the Christians is realistically described, without the false
element of terror, which is often added to such descriptions. In spite of
its rambling construction, and religious discussion, _Helena’s Household_
is a scholarly piece of work, which both illustrates Roman history, and
portrays well the life of Rome. _The Martyr of the Catacombs_, (1858), by
De Mille, is more a religious story than a novel.

A fine illustration of Roman history is given in _Kallistratus; an
Autobiography_ (1897), a novel dealing with the campaigns of Hannibal
against Rome. This is not to be considered an imitation of Flaubert’s
_Salammbo_, or any other novel dealing with the Carthaginians, but is
an independent attempt to illustrate certain facts of Roman history.
The author of _Kallistratus_ was Mr. A. H. Gilkes, M. A., Master of
Dulwich College, Dulwich, and the preface to the novel is written
from the College. _Kallistratus_ need not be considered a book for
boys, and is infinitely better than most books for boys. But its hero,
Kallistratus, is a typical boys’ hero, who serves as Hannibal’s aide
and personal attendant. Besides telling the story of the Second Punic
war from Hannibal’s point of view, _Kallistratus_ presents with a very
realistic effect an account of the chicanery of an ancient oracle, which
is located on the banks of the Rhone near Massilia, and is consulted by
a Gallic chieftain. Hannibal’s victories over the Romans are accurately
described, and attributed in part to Varro, the low-born consul, as they
should be. Moreover, the fact that Kallistratus’ brothers and sisters are
sent to Rome under the protection of the Scipios, affords the author an
opportunity to describe life at Rome to some extent. While the character
of the great Hannibal does not stand out with especial force in this
novel, _Kallistratus_ gives a truly realistic account of his campaigns
from the point of view of one who was with him; and it may well have
served as a model in many ways for Mr. Duffield Osborne, when he was
writing _The Lion’s Brood_, (1901), a novel which treats of the same
period from the Roman point of view. Mr. Gilkes’ other novel, _Four
Sons_, (1909), seems to lapse into more juvenile style, mainly because
its subject is not so inspiring. But it illustrates very faithfully the
period of Roman history which was marked by the inroads of the Greeks in
Southern Italy and the Samnite War. The author’s interest in books for
boys and the school life of boys, is shown not only by the profession he
has chosen, but also in the genuine book for boys he has written, called
_Boys and Masters_. But of the books he has written, _Kallistratus_
especially, would be of interest to any intelligent reader, juvenile or
otherwise.

_A Friend of Caesar_, (1900), by William Stearns Davis, a college
professor, whose scholarly attainments have won for him a well-deserved
reputation, is the first and, in my opinion, the only book which
successfully illustrates with the most minute detail every important
event or incident in a brief period of Roman history (50-47 B. C.),
crowded with important events,—and at the same time presents a fictitious
story of supreme interest, surpassing that of most historical novels. It
is in fact, the world’s best school-history book in the form of fiction.
Mr. Davis was well qualified to write such a book, by his experience
in writing in briefer form stories meant to aid in the study of Roman
history in schools and colleges,—his parallel readings have been widely
used by other teachers. _A Friend of Caesar_ is a very scholarly piece
of work by a very scholarly man; and it is absolutely accurate in its
history, presenting everything which a school-boy may be expected to
learn in his study of Roman history and life of a definite period. Yet,
while it is very slightly expurgated of grosser elements, it is in no
sense a book for boys alone, but a _novel_ which can satisfy the taste of
the most mature readers. Mr. Davis has thus succeeded in combining, in a
single volume, elements which other authors have found it very difficult
to combine. _A Friend of Caesar_ is in fact a novel of Roman life in the
best sense in which that phrase can be used. As Mr. Davis says in his
preface to the novel, “If this book serves to show that classical life
presented many phases akin to our own, it will not have been written
in vain.” This sentence shows the highest possible conception of the
function of the historical novel. In portraying life at Rome at the time
of the fall of the Roman Republic, Mr. Davis (in his preface) disparages
his own work in comparison with that in _Quo Vadis_; he says that he is
taking the pagan point of view rather than the Christian. But, judged
purely from a consideration of the necessity for accurate scholarship,
_A Friend of Caesar_ is a far more thorough work than _Quo Vadis_; and,
while containing a number of scenes of great dramatic value, it does not
rely unduly on the melodramatic and the sensational. In matters requiring
minute and careful scholarship, it is possible that Mr. Davis goes too
far; there are times when the reader feels that it is becoming _too much_
a school-book. Yet this insistence on detail, while leading to possible
faults, also assures the principal virtue of _A Friend of Caesar_, its
absolute reliability.

Julius Caesar himself is the most important figure in this novel. The
finest and noblest points in the character of this great man, among the
world’s great men, are emphasized; while his defects are entirely left
out of the picture. The resulting character of Caesar in the book is thus
idealized to some extent, but perhaps not too much so for the purpose of
a novel. Caesar appears as the hero, great statesman, and controller of
the world’s destinies that he was. The technical hero of the story is
Quintus Livius Drusus, and he is a typical boy’s hero; his history is
given in a way which arouses interest and associates him closely, in the
reader’s mind, with Caesar. Cleopatra seems to have been an important
character in the author’s mind, mainly because she played an important
part in history. Her personality is viewed in a somewhat more attractive
light than might be expected, and as a character she blends well with the
idealized character of Caesar. The weaker side of Pompeius’ character
is emphasized, and he is not brought into the foreground enough to be
considered a really important character. The manner of his death is well
portrayed in ch. XXII, “The End of the Magnus.”

Perhaps the most notable scene in _A Friend of Caesar_ is the historical
one in the Curia. In this the destinies of the Roman Republic are shown
to be in the hands of its own unscrupulous government, just as much as
they are later in the hands of Caesar; this scene is truly great, and
contains no apparent inconsistencies. The scene in which Agias is saved
by Fabia, is modelled somewhat on a similar scene between Onesimus and a
Vestal in Canon Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, as Mr. Davis candidly says
in his preface. The scene depicting the riot in Alexandria, especially
the passage which shows how little the brutal Roman soldiers care for
the lives of the poorer citizens, recalls a similar scene in _Hypatia_.
But _A Friend of Caesar_ contains very little direct borrowing from
previous novels of Roman life, and does not rely too much upon historical
events as a means of obtaining realistic effect. The scene in which
trusty old Mamercus guards the door of the villa, is a masterpiece in
its description of hand-to-hand fighting, and excels, in its realism,
the description of the actual battle between the forces of Caesar and
those of Pompey. In its portrayal of character, and its presentation of
realistic scenes, _A Friend of Caesar_ is a novel which rests firmly upon
its own merits.

George Manville Fenn was not a teacher, but his book for boys, _Marcus,
the Young Centurion_, (1904), is given passing mention here, since,
like Mr. Davis’s novel, it deals with Julius Caesar. Fenn’s book tells
something of Caesar’s campaigns in Gaul, but a far better book on this
subject is _The Standard Bearer; a Story of Army Life in the Time of
Caesar_, (1915), by Mr. Albert Carleton Whitehead. This book tells very
realistically the story given in Caesar’s _Commentaries_, but is rather a
book for boys than a novel of Roman life.

_The Unwilling Vestal_, (1918), by Mr. Edward Lucas White, a teacher and
thorough scholar of Baltimore, Maryland, was quite evidently written
to show that life in ancient Rome was essentially “modern.” While this
novel mentions historical events, such as the campaigns of Marcus
Aurelius, and gives a most striking portrayal of the effects of the great
pestilence at Rome, it does not attempt to narrate historical details
so much, as to make the life and customs of ancient Rome seem familiar
and real to the modern reader. It has achieved this latter purpose by
presenting Roman life chiefly as it affects a single character, Brinnaria
the Vestal. It is true that the figure of Marcus Aurelius appears in the
novel, and at the close of the book Commodus plays an important part;
Almo, the charioteer, is a character of whom we hear much at second-hand,
but we seldom make a closer acquaintance with him, and even the
descriptions of his fights in the amphitheatre are lacking in realistic
effect. The Vestals, with whom Brinnaria is later associated, are given
natural and human qualities, but do not play any very important part.
_The Unwilling Vestal_ is a character-study, a study of one character.
The other characters are important only as they influence the principal
one. Moreover, the varied scenes of Roman life which are portrayed center
about the principal character. Hence, most of them have to do with the
life of a Vestal. This is shown to be far from a narrow or confining
life. In addition, the author seems justified in selecting for his
Vestal a person so independent, self-willed, and unusual as Brinnaria.
Her parents play little part in the story, and from the very first, she
shows a disposition to “go it alone.” By devoting so much attention
to Brinnaria, and emphasising her human qualities, whether virtues or
faults, the author has succeeded in making us feel that we know Brinnaria
well. It seems to be a part of the author’s purpose to convince us
that Brinnaria and her chum Flexinna are not essentially different
from the modern American girls we see and know; and so he gives us a
thorough acquaintance with Brinnaria, the girl, before introducing us to
Brinnaria, the Vestal. There are no really great scenes in _The Unwilling
Vestal_. In attempting to recall any such, one thinks at once of the
scenes in the amphitheatre; but here, as elsewhere, we are concerned
with Brinnaria, her feelings, and her interests.

While Almo, the charioteer, comes before us directly only a few times,
the story, (indirectly told), of his career as charioteer, gladiator,
villicus, and King of the Grove, affords opportunity to throw interesting
sidelights on things that took place here and there in the world of the
Roman Empire. For example, a concise and accurate account of the way in
which the racing companies were managed, is given. An interesting account
is given of Brinnaria’s occupations inside the Temple of Vesta, and, as
has already been indicated, it is shown that, besides being a Vestal, she
was an important figure in the social life of Rome. The author says:

    She took great delight in mixing in society merely for
    society’s sake. Moderns are likely to imagine that the Vestals
    of ancient Rome were nuns, or something like nuns. They were
    nothing of the sort. They were maiden ladies of wealth and
    position, whose routine duties brought them into familiar
    association with all the men important in the Roman government,
    hierarchy, nobility, and gentry, and with their wives and
    daughters.

Though _The Unwilling Vestal_ fails to present some of its scenes
with realistic effect, because of the lack of a sufficient number
of characters of different kinds, its author does portray some very
interesting things in Roman life, through the medium of a single
interesting character and a very real one. Mr. T. Everett Harré had given
a vivid picture of life in Roman Alexandria, while presenting only one
important character, in _Behold the Woman_, (1916), two years before; but
the character of Mary, while intensely human, is not intended to show
especially “modern” traits of character. Brinnaria in _The Unwilling
Vestal_, is made to seem in some ways more familiar to the modern reader,
and more like his modern acquaintances, than any other single character
in any novel of Roman life, written before Mr. White’s book. Besides
being an interesting novel, _The Unwilling Vestal_ is so accurate in
its description of Roman life and custom that it could be used as a
schoolbook of great value. Finally, the so-called “modern scientific
touch” is given in the crucial scene of the story, in which Brinnaria
exonerates herself by carrying water in a sieve,—something which the
author had seen done in a series of accurate experiments. _The Unwilling
Vestal_ is original in style, and does not seem to depend on previous
novels of Roman life in any way. Its omission of any mention of the
Christians, makes it easier for the author to portray truthfully the life
of Pagan Rome.

In _The Unwilling Vestal_, (1918), Mr. White had told many interesting
things about Roman life, but in limiting himself to a single important
character, whose experiences are narrated in the third person, he
sometimes had failed to make the reader feel a share in the life of
Rome, as an eye-witness of the scene, or even a participant in it. Such
a realistic effect he actually attained in _Andivius Hedulio, Adventures
of a Roman Nobleman in the Days of the Empire_, (1921). This improvement
he brought about in part by introducing a large number of characters
from all ranks and conditions of Roman society, thus “presenting, in
a narrative fiction, a complete and faithful depiction of all the
phases, high and low, of that life which made up the grandeur which was
Rome.”[33] And most of the numerous characters are made just as familiar
to the reader as Brinnaria had been made in _The Unwilling Vestal_.
But this is not the only means taken by the author to make his novel
realistic; and the realistic effect is made complete by the fact that the
adventures of Hedulio are narrated in the first person by a character
who has the entire sympathy of the reader. While not a great believer
in newspaper reviews, I am willing to admit there is some justice in
the high praise made by “G. W. D.” in _The Evening Public Ledger_,
Philadelphia. After comparing _Andivius Hedulio_ to _Salammbo_, he says
of Mr. White’s novel, “The history is so subtly interwoven with the
narrative, that it becomes an integral part of it. The attention of the
reader is concentrated on the human relations and the characters are men
and women kin with the men and women of the present century. Mr. White
has made the past live as if it were the present. Or to put it another
way, he has abolished time, and has exhibited to us the unchanging human
emotions playing upon one another in Rome of the second century, just
as they play upon one another in America of the twentieth century. He
has not once yielded to the temptation to display his eruditions at the
expense of the story, a temptation to which so many learned men succumb
when they try to write historical fiction. They succumb because they lack
the instinct of the story teller, and do not realize that a novel must be
a human drama first, whatever else it may be, whether a study of manners
or of morals or a picture of the world in a historical epoch.... There is
nothing that people are more interested in than in other people.”

Any adverse criticism of _Andivius Hedulio_ would most naturally be
directed against the somewhat loose construction of its plot. The plot
of the novel imagines the young Roman nobleman wrongly suspected of
conspiring against the life of the Emperor Commodus. Fleeing for his
life, he passes eleven years in various disguises, never getting very
far from Italy and returning again and again to Rome, through one
chance or another. As the author says in his _Note to the Reader_, “The
plot ... has a general resemblance to the ancient _Milesian_ tales;
as, for instance, that on a version of which Shakespeare based his
_Comedy of Errors_. More definitely it is affiliated with the plot of
the _Metamorphoses_ of Apuleius... Much of the plot shows derivation
from romances of the _Picaresco_ type, or approaching that type... The
atmosphere of the adventures collectively is indubitably that of the
_Satiricon_ of Petronius, along with much from the _Metamorphoses_ of
Apuleius.” Much of the plot, says Mr. White, came from his assuming that
there was a fashionable litter-craze at Rome, “a fad of wealthy fops for
journeying by litter instead of by travelling coach... Much of the minor
incident and local color derives from my saturating myself with what
survives to us of Roman roadbooks.” In a sense _Andivius Hedulio_ _is_ a
romance of the road. In reading the novel, I was much impressed by the
author’s genuine delight in strange, unexpected, but _not improbable_
adventures, and was reminded much of certain aspects of the romances of
Robert Louis Stevenson; it was no surprise to discover later that I had
overlooked its dedication “To Robert Louis Stevenson, who in reading
fiction loved ‘The open road and the bright eyes of danger.’” Moreover
Mr. White, like Stevenson, realized that the best way to tell a story,
especially a story of adventure, is to tell “one thing after another.”
This is the way it was done by the authors of the _Milesians_, of the
_Metamorphoses_, and of the “picaresque” romances. Such works have their
place in the line of ancestry of the modern novel, and the author is
entirely justified in using them,—somewhat expurgated,—since often they
portray life in a very realistic way. It cannot be said that _Andivius
Hedulio_ excels such great novels as _Ben Hur_ and _Darkness and Dawn_,
in portraying the life of the Roman world with realistic effect. But
the author’s genius, in making the experiences of characters of the
Roman world seem essentially like our own experiences, and those of our
friends, makes this novel excel most other novels of Roman life in this
respect.

_Andivius Hedulio_ is the work of a scholarly teacher of Latin, who
wished to throw a strong light on the life of the historical period of
Commodus’ reign; and especially to present Commodus in the character of
“the most perfect athlete the world ever produced, misplaced on earth’s
greatest throne.” Mr. White’s novel is in no sense a school-history
book, such as Mr. Davis’s _A Friend of Caesar_; but any school-boy could
read it with pleasure, and learn from its sound scholarship, much, that
would aid him in his classical studies. Commodus is the most important
historical figure, and, as the author says, the part he plays in the
novel is due in part to what is said of him in the work of Gibbon,
Dio Cassius, and Herodian. While other sources mentioned by Mr. White
in his _Note to the Reader_, show a wide reading and a thoroughness
of scholarship, the novel itself is sufficient evidence of this, and
is entirely free from slavish copying. He frankly admits that the
culminating incident in the chariot races originated partly from certain
details in the chariot race in _Ben Hur_, (1880). But this incident is
given a peculiar originality, by the addition of details taken from the
account given to Mr. White of a “run-away” accident, which actually
occurred in Baltimore. This illumination of the past, by placing in a
story of the past an incident which has recently occurred, often aids a
novelist in attaining realistic effect, and illustrates one of the ways
Mr. White has taken to make the past seem real to present-day readers.
The labyrinth motive appears in _Andivius Hedulio_, when the hero and his
faithful servant make their escape from a secret stair, and through a
long, dark and filthy drain. This incident was suggested by the escape of
Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s _Les Miserables_, and Baring-Gould may have
taken a similar incident in _Perpetua_ from the same source.

Commodus’ joy in driving his horses to victory in the chariot races and
in displaying his skill in the amphitheatre, is well portrayed by the
author; but perhaps the greatest stroke in the portrayal of Commodus, is
made, not when he is governing horses, or overcoming single opponents,
animal or human, in the arena, but when he is controlling the minds and
passions of the army of mutineers. While Commodus is not the technical
hero of the story, he is the real hero of the novel, and in a fine
character-study he is represented as the man who really controlled the
Roman world, whether addressing soldiers and courtiers, or impressing the
populace by his skill in the arena. But besides presenting life at the
court of Commodus and in the higher social circles at Rome, with which
the Emperor was definitely connected, the novel takes one through the
streets of Rome and into different quarters of the city, in such a way
as to illustrate the life of all classes of Roman society; and presents
with fairness most of the various types of human character, which were to
be found in the city of Rome itself and in various parts of the Empire.
Since the Christians were comparatively few in number, even as late
as the time of Commodus, (and the life of Rome was still essentially
pagan), the author wisely refrains from any attempt to give them a place
in his story. He says of _Andivius Hedulio_, “Especially I judged it
free from vital anachronisms. I know of no fiction dealing with Rome or
Greece which does not project-back later ideas of duty, right and wrong,
morality and such like ethical concepts, into periods far anteceding
those in which these conceptions developed. The Greeks and Romans had
very definite notions as to personal morals, decency, duty, and the like,
but many of the ideas most prevalent among us originated since Roman
times and were then non-existent and inconceivable.” It would be beside
the mark to cry “paganism,” against Mr. White’s _Andivius Hedulio_, since
paganism is exactly what he wished to portray. In some respects this
novel excels any other previously discussed, in its portrayal not only of
the outward life, but of the _social_ and _ethical_ atmosphere of pagan
Rome. And its teacher-author has been eminently successful in showing,
to school-boy and mature reader alike, “all the phases, high and low, of
that life which made up the grandeur which was Rome.”


H. NOVELS WRITTEN BY AUTHORS WHO HAVE PORTRAYED ROMAN LIFE FROM AN
ESTHETIC VIEWPOINT

Walter Pater’s _Marius the Epicurean_ appeared in 1885. While Pater
was a tutor at Oxford, _Marius the Epicurean_ is so far removed from
being a school-book, that it was impossible to consider it in the class
of novels written by teachers to illustrate Roman life or a certain
period of Roman history in a pedagogical way. In fact Pater’s work is so
different from most novels of Roman life, and has a literary value so
much higher than most novels of any kind, that it is best considered in
a class by itself. Nothing has ever been written exactly like _Marius
the Epicurean_, which ranks above Pater’s other literary productions,
fine as they are, and furnishes his principal contribution to posterity.
It was indeed written for posterity, and not intended to be read as an
interesting novel and then forgotten. Marius the Epicurean is the finest
piece of pure literature that will be considered in this study. Moreover
it cannot escape consideration as a novel of Roman life. Its full title
is _Marius the Epicurean, His Sensations and Ideas_. Its hero is a Roman
boy, who advances in years, until he arrives at mature manhood, and whose
death is recorded at the end of the story. “It would probably have been
called a novel had its chief claim and merit not been independent of
fiction.”[34] In following the development of Marius, Pater is showing
what might have happened to a young man in the Rome of Marcus Aurelius,
if he were possessed of a particularly fine esthetic sense, and devoted
his life to an esthetic ideal. There is sufficient binding material in
the form of narrative to make _Marius the Epicurean_ rather a novel than
a series of essays, though it contains fine studies of the physical and
spiritual life of Rome. Such novels of Roman life as George Gissing’s
_Veranilda_, (1904), and Mr. Eden Phillpotts’ _Pan and the Twins_,
(1922), have derived much inspiration from both the substance and quality
of Pater’s work. Such a thorough classical scholar and ardent lover of
the classics as Lionel Johnson could say of its exactness, in _Post
Liminium_: “Readers, accustomed by long experience to use _Marius_ for a
text-book,—exact, precise, rigorous, well warranted and attested,—of the
Antonine age, do not need to be told that Mr. Pater never writes without
his facts and evidences.”[35]

Pater’s aim in _Marius the Epicurean_ had something in common with the
aim of some of the best novels of Roman life, that have been considered,
however unique his method may have been. He purposes to show a young man
in an age similar to our own, and one who exhibited “a sort of religious
phase possible for the modern mind.” Marius is like Pater in his serious
and refined nature, and his esthetic delight in religious ceremonial, but
represents better Pater’s ideal. Though he is taught to believe in the
outworn system of paganism, he takes delight only in the most beautiful
elements in pagan religious ceremonials. In his quest of the fine and
the beautiful in religious emotion, he is led to higher and higher forms
of philosophy, each step in his development being minutely described by
Pater, not with the accompaniment of abstract philosophizing, but with
the desire to portray in simple terms the beauty of esthetic experience.
At each step toward a higher intellectual existence Marius approaches the
ideal of a Christian life; his soul is said to be “naturally Christian,”
and he admires elements of beauty in the thought and life of a Christian
comrade. Finally by a mere accident, he dies a Christian. _Marius the
Epicurean_ simply portrays the life of Rome, as it appeared to a young
Roman who lived only to seek the highest good in esthetic experience.
It clearly shows that life governed by an esthetic ideal, could and did
exist in the days of Marcus Aurelius, just as it can and does exist today.

In _Marius the Epicurean_, Pater, as the author, shows himself to be more
a true Hellenist than any writer appears to be in any novel of Roman
life written before Pater’s work,—though his truly Greek appreciation of
the beautiful is in no way inconsistent with Christianity. But the book
portrays not merely the beauty of Greek philosophy. Viewed as a portrayal
of life, _Marius the Epicurean_ may be fairly said to portray essentially
the entire course of the religious life of Rome,—starting with the
primitive and patriarchal “religion of Numa,” and passing through later
forms, (whether wholly Roman or including foreign elements); and further
on through the abstractions of Greek philosophy, to the highest form of
Christianity. The social and moral phenomena to be seen at Rome in the
times of Marcus Aurelius, are shown, and the part which great schools of
Greek philosophy played in the life of Rome, is made to appear important.

While no great character portrayals are attempted in _Marius the
Epicurean_, Marius is made to meet with such great characters as the
Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Apuleius, and Lucian. Marcus Aurelius is
portrayed in a very modern light as a public lecturer, through whose
example Marius determines to become a student of rhetoric at Rome; yet
to Marius he seemed to be, (as he actually was), the greatest thinker
and the greatest man of his time. In his representation of the character
of Faustina, who is seen surrounded by her children, including the
supposedly illegitimate Commodus, Pater may owe something to Swinburne’s
poem, _Faustine_. Roman customs are well represented, when we see
people performing sacrifices or going to the theatre to celebrate a
holiday; and the life of Rome is made to seem real by minute descriptive
touches, such as those which describe the evidences of the ravages of
the great pestilence. Roman shops, inns, temples, and other buildings
appear crowded with people, and a multitude of human types are shown, as
soldiers, courtesans, beggars and little children. Some description is
also made of a Roman marriage ceremony; and the mythological burlesques
and gladiatorial contests of the amphitheatre are described as affecting
different individuals in different ways. In the death of Verus appears
something of the spirit which made the Romans turn such a matter into a
public event; the great Galen, making his way through the throng to the
side of the sufferer, is a figure which is familiar elsewhere in the
novel of Roman life.

But the most characteristic scenes taken from the outward life of the
Romans’ are the banquet and the Triumph of Marcus Aurelius. Pater
adds to the reality of these Roman scenes by portraying not only the
characteristics of men, but also those of children, and even animals.
Thus in the triumphal procession go “the ibex, the wild-cat, and the
reindeer stalking and trumpeting grandly.” Though scenes of the martyrdom
of the Christians only appear as told at second-hand, a characteristic
Roman brutality is shown by the guards in charge of Christian prisoners.
Thus the material life of Rome, as well as its religious life, is
portrayed in _Marius the Epicurean_. What Pater did for the novel of
Roman life was to show the possibility of portraying not merely the
material existence of the Romans, but the whole life of Rome considered
from a religious and esthetic standpoint. _Marius the Epicurean_ has been
said to stand without fiction; but the highest hope of any fiction might
well be to rise to the level of Pater’s work. It took five or six years
to write, and shows Pater’s thorough scholarship, and his appreciation
of the beautiful in Latin and Greek literature. Mr. Edward Hutton sums
up its excellence when he says that, “In _Marius the Epicurean_, Pater
gave us a book profound and simple, bounded by the great refusals of an
artist, perfect in prose, stooping to nothing, having the dignity of a
great poem, and the thoughtfulness that is characteristic of the writers
of the Augustan age.”

George Gissing in _Veranilda_, (1904), seems to be the first author of a
novel of Roman life to derive much inspiration from Pater’s _Marius the
Epicurean_, (1885). Gissing resembles Pater in his exact scholarship,
his love of Greek things, and his estheticism. _Veranilda_ was to have
in it the love of the classics, but is unfinished. Yet it is evident
that only a few chapters at the end are missing, and what we have
of _Veranilda_ is finished with Gissing’s finest and most delicate
touches. The late Mr. Frederic Harrison says of Gissing in the preface
to _Veranilda_, that in this novel, “his poetical gift for local color,
his subtle insight into spiritual mysticism and, above all, his really
fine scholarship and classical learning had ample field.” Mr. Harrison
considers _Veranilda_ “far the most important book which George Gissing
ever produced,” and most readers of Gissing will concur in this opinion.
Though the subject-matter of _Veranilda_ is somewhat different from that
of _Marius the Epicurean_, there is much similarity between the two books
in the way subjects are presented, and at times Gissing’s purity of style
approaches that of Pater. In many respects _Veranilda_ is the greatest
novel of its kind. Not only does it show thoroughness and accuracy in
scholarship, but it has very genuine characterization and atmosphere. The
spirit of _Veranilda_ is the spirit of the time it describes,—the spirit
of disillusion, unrest, and uncertainty amid scenes of strife, sorrow,
and decay. Yet there are gleams of hope to be found in Gissing’s great
novel, which portrays life in and near Rome in the “Era of Justinian.”
While the outward, physical life of fallen Rome is portrayed accurately,
as it would appear to the eye, the special excellence of _Veranilda_
lies in its exact reproduction of the spirit of the time with which it
deals. In this respect it probably excels any other historical novel
in English,—bar none,—and deserves a high position as pure literature.
Moreover in his portrayal of life in the past, Gissing has not failed
to establish its connection with life of the present; realistic effect
is never lacking in _Veranilda_. Yet even when portraying life in the
most general terms, Gissing continually shows the same selection and
preference for the esthetic, the same search for the beautiful, which
marks the work of Walter Pater in _Marius the Epicurean_.

The plan of _Veranilda_ is more complete than that of most historical
novels; it deals chiefly with real historical characters and actual
historical events, yet there is not too much formal history in the novel.
It was carefully written after a most thorough study of the best modern
writers, (especially Gibbon), who deal with the age of Justinian and
Belisarius, and of the remains of the literature of the time. The scene
is Rome and Central and Southern Italy, and local color is obtained not
at second-hand, but from the author’s direct observation of the places
he describes, and a careful review of extant documents concerning them.
Gissing had spent some time travelling in Italy and _Veranilda_ may
be considered his most original novel. In selecting the scene and the
time of _Veranilda_, Gissing evidently intended to write a novel which
should convey a sense of Rome’s former greatness. The center and source
of power of the Roman Empire had shifted to Constantinople, though even
here the power of Rome was none too strong. Felix Dahn’s two novels, _A
Struggle for Rome_, (1876), and _The Scarlet Banner_, (1894), deal with
the same period with which _Veranilda_ deals; _The Scarlet Banner_ being
concerned with the overthrow of the Vandal king, Gelimer, by Belisarius.
_A Struggle for Rome_, is like _Veranilda_ in its subject matter, since
it is concerned with the struggle between the Ostrogoths and Belisarius,
and mentions some of the same characters that appear in _Veranilda_.
The characterization of Totila, the Gothic king, especially suggests
_Veranilda_. But while _A Struggle for Rome_ is Dahn’s greatest novel, it
does not appear that Gissing was so much indebted to it in _Veranilda_,
as to original historical sources. The period with which _Veranilda_
deals comes somewhat after the true end of Pagan Rome, and no novel will
be discussed which deals with a later period.

Gissing preserves a fine unity of effect in making the events of his
story center about Rome, and not about Constantinople. “The Eternal City”
lies there as of old, and its inhabitants cannot shake off the feeling
that it still is “eternal.” The wise Justinian is to them a foreign
tyrant, under whose governor they are harshly oppressed. The great
commander Belisarius, though he has temporarily defeated the Goths, has
now left Italy, and is no longer thought of as deliverer of Rome; the
fame of Totila is spreading. Throughout this book, with its descriptions
of ruined towns, ruined families, and the ruins of the City of Rome
itself, one feels the former greatness of Rome. Everywhere is decay,
everywhere is to be seen a dying out of the best elements of Roman
civilization. Many of the scenes which form the setting for the principal
action in the story, are typical of this lingering death of the great
city. While everywhere the old Rome is dying out, is there springing up
anything new to take its place? Even though the novel is incomplete, one
can see that the author means to show conclusively that the Goths will
furnish new life, and new strength, to Rome and to civilization.

In _Hypatia_, Kingsley had portrayed “the dying world” of Rome,
especially in the chapter headed by that phrase. In _Marius the
Epicurean_, Pater had pointed out the coming downfall of Rome in several
different ways. He had said, for example, that the Germanic tribes,
whom Marcus Aurelius defeated, were merely the advance guard of a vast
body of wandering tribes destined to overrun the Roman world. Marcus
Aurelius in his triumph over the Germans, appeared to Marius, “chiefly
as one who had made the great mistake,” as a man who had failed. “The
most Christian” Stoic Emperor, in pursuing his thoroughly Roman policy of
enforcing worship of the gods with an iron hand at Rome, and ruthlessly
subjugating peoples on the frontiers of the Empire, had failed to save
Rome from becoming more and more a nation of “coarse, vulgar people,”
an Empire that failed. In _Veranilda_ we see the impressive remains of
that great failure. Its psychology, like that of most of Gissing’s work,
is the psychology of failure. As the decayed condition of his old home
appears to be symbolic of failure to Marius, near the end of _Marius the
Epicurean_, so all through _Veranilda_ the decay of material things seems
to symbolize the downfall and death of “Eternal Rome.” Yet the gleams of
hope, which appear through the gloom, are symbolic of a new life. While
no such large contrast is made in _Veranilda_, as is made in _Hypatia_,
the hope of Christianity in a failing world is made very real.

Aside from the scene depicting the murder at the villa, there are few
sensational scenes in _Veranilda_. Moreover, in most of the scenes of
importance, it is noticeable that only a limited number of people
appear. The greater part of the novel is pitched in a minor key.
There are countless incidents of importance, whisperings, doubts,
uncertainties; trivial words often have a hidden meaning, trifling
actions assume great importance. The remains of Rome’s grandeur are
suggested in the character of Flavius Anicius Maximus, a worthy
descendant of an ancient and noble family; and his sister Petronilla
serves to keep before our minds something of the uncompromising pride
of any descendant of an old Roman family. A similar pride appears in
the characters of the Deacon Leander and Vigilius. But more fitting
messengers of God are the holy Abbott Benedict and his monks. The scenes
about the monastery are drawn with a masterful touch; one feels the
genuine influence for good, which the holy Abbott has over Basil, and the
real help which he gives to Basil, in the difficulty with which Basil is
confronted. St. Benedict appears as a man who leads a genuinely spiritual
life, with insight enough to solve all of Basil’s difficulties.

Veranilda herself is a truly radiant figure, and it is in justice that
the novel is named for her. She does not often appear upon the scene,
it is true, but the sincerity of her character and her overwhelming
loveliness are drawn with convincing strokes. Her innocence at all times,
especially when in Marcian’s power, and her faith in those into whose
care she is entrusted, are points of strength in her character, not of
weakness; and she proves herself truly great in her forgiveness of Basil.
In his delineation of character especially, Gissing has at times equalled
the exquisite touches of Pater. How little is told of St. Benedict or of
Veranilda, yet how definitely their characters are impressed upon the
reader! Veranilda is beyond question, the character who best represents
beauty of body and soul, in the novel of Roman life, and, I believe,
surpasses Pater’s Marius in representing a “soul naturally Christian.” In
any case, one feels that in _Veranilda_, as in _Marius the Epicurean_,
there always exists the esthetic conception of an inseparable connection
between physical and spiritual beauty. Gissing followed Pater in showing
that the life of Rome could be portrayed as being far from entirely
physical and material; and he showed more definitely than Pater, that
Roman life could be presented in the form of a novel, with realistic
effect, yet with the exercise of a discriminating selection of the finer
elements of subject matter, and in a style delicately fitted to portray
these finer elements.

A review of esthetic elements to be found in the novel of Roman life
would not be complete without some consideration of two recent novels by
Mr. Eden Phillpotts, _Evander_, (1919), and _Pan and the Twins_, (1922).
Mr. Phillpotts has shown his appreciation for classic art in _The Joy of
Youth_, while another of his novels, _The River_, shows his love for the
beautiful in nature. Mr. George Moore says, “Morality is but a dream, but
beauty is real;” his novel, _The Brook Kerith_, is not considered here
as a novel of Roman life, but in it the author often harks back to the
beautiful pagan world. There is something of this in the two novels of
Roman life written by Mr. Phillpotts. As has been said, George Ebers had
written, _A Question; The Idyl of a Picture by His Friend Alma Tadema_,
(1881), which presents the beauties of pastoral life in semi-mythological
classic times in pre-historic Sicily, and suggests _Evander_ in subject
matter. In _Marius the Epicurean_, Pater had said, “Farm life in Italy,
including the culture of the olive and the vine, has a grace of its
own, and might well contribute to the production of an ideal dignity of
character, like that of nature itself in this gifted region. Vulgarity
seemed impossible.” The ideal beauty of a simple, outdoor life, centering
in the farmer’s hut, appears in _Evander_, a novel which portrays life
in prehistoric Italy and abounds in beautiful pastoral description. In
its portrayal of life, _Evander_ shows somewhat the same discriminating
selection of esthetic elements to be seen in _Marius the Epicurean_. and
_Veranilda_; but unlike the work of Pater or Gissing, _Evander_ has a
rich and picturesque humor. Here, in Mr. Phillpotts’ novel, is optimism
in contrast to the detachment of Pater, and Gissing’s somewhat continuous
pessimism. Mr. Phillpott’s light, humorous, cheerful style in _Evander_,
makes the novel rank far below _Marius the Epicurean_ and _Veranilda_ as
a work of art, and is a concession to popular taste; yet it has a virtue
of its own. Many readers, who would find _Marius the Epicurean_ too
serious, could read _Evander_ with pleasure and profit.

_Evander_ portrays life in Italy when marriage was just coming into
fashion; it is really a satire of the “triangle” of the ordinary man, the
genius, and the woman who does not know her own mind. But it truthfully
represents the beginnings of things most characteristically Roman;
especially the Roman ideals of the home, the community, and finally
law, ideals which sprang from the simple, austere, agricultural life
of the prehistoric Romans. The author is right in representing as real
to these primitive Romans, “nymphs, goat-foot fauns and other immortal
creatures of lake and mountain, vale and forest, who spied upon humanity
with wonder when the world was young.” Among other gods, Pan, under
the Latin name of Faunus, appears to a mortal woman, in _Evander_, as
he had done in Mr. James Stephens’ novel, _The Crock of Gold_; and the
humorous, delicately satiric style of _Evander_ at times suggests Mr.
Stephen’s work. In portraying life “when the world was young,” the author
of _Evander_ seems to ask, “Why should it grow old?” And in portraying
ancient pagan life as a satire on modern life, he does not fail to show
that the ideals and aspirations of man have changed but little.

_Pan and the Twins_, (1922), as its title suggests, makes a similar use
of the god Pan, and is a novel written in a style similar to that of
_Evander_. It differs from Mr. Phillpotts’ other novel of Roman life in
including historical material. Not very much history is brought into
_Pan and the Twins_, but when historical events are mentioned, they are
made vividly significant, and are rightly interpreted. The scene is laid
chiefly on a country estate near Rome, and in the time of Valentinian,
though other Roman Emperors are mentioned. Even more than _Evander_, _Pan
and the Twins_ suggests Mr. James Stephens’ _The Crock of Gold_, but is
a better constructed novel and a finer piece of art. The satire of _Pan
and the Twins_ is delicate but very pointed at times, as when Theodosius
convinces the Christian bishop that it is not his duty to the State to
have Arcadius burned alive. Its humor is equally delicate, but no one
could fail to laugh at the spectacle of one of the Emperor’s favorite
bears, which escapes from its cage at the amphitheatre and becomes very
much worried that “malefactors” are no longer provided as its daily
food.[36]

While its philosophy is at times “sugar-coated,” _Pan and the Twins_
offers a very strong plea for sanity in religion and life, and suggests
that they are one and the same thing. Moreover, in its portrayal of
life, it distinctly seeks for elements of beauty. With a few delicate
touches, the author presents in his heroine a figure of ideal physical
and spiritual beauty, not unlike Gissing’s Veranilda in conception. In
portraying Roman life, coarser elements are kept in the background. One
is made to feel the existence of the horrors of the amphitheatre, the
inconsistencies of the Church, and much of the varied life of Rome.
Roman customs, as, for example, the marriage ceremony, are correctly
described. But in the foreground of the picture appear always scenes
amid the sunlight and pure air of the Roman country landscape. _Pan and
the Twins_ is not a great novel, but one that contains much beautiful
writing. The scenes which it portrays are selected chiefly for their
esthetic appeal, but are real, none the less; not inconsistent with
life, past or present. It is not necessarily either “pagan” or Christian;
but seems to undertake to show that beauty cannot be defined entirely in
terms of morality, Christianity, or paganism. _Pan and the Twins_ ranks
far below such a consummate piece of art as _Marius the Epicurean_, but
successfully presents the esthetic, in terms more readily appreciated by
the popular taste.




IV

IN CONCLUSION


In thus reviewing the principal lines of development which the novel
of Roman life has followed to the present day, it has been found that,
in some cases, these lines lead away ultimately from the true type of
the novel which portrays the life of Rome with realistic effect. Thus
the line of the novel of Roman life as written by scholarly preachers
has been found to branch off, at a certain point, into the line of the
story of religious instruction, a form which was excluded by definition
in Section I of this study. The line of the “popular” novel of Roman
life has always had a tendency to branch off, and deteriorate into
cheap imitations, which attempt to use Roman life to provide artificial
coloring, but do not really portray Roman life at all. The line of the
novel of Roman life written to illustrate “schoolbook” history has in
most cases branched off directly into the line of books for boys—Mr.
Davis’s and Mr. White’s novels being the notable exceptions. While there
has been little direct imitation of the pedantic elements in the work of
German scholars, with their meticulous overemphasis upon detail; German
novelists such as Eckstein have been shown to follow Scott in their
methods of writing historical novels, and to suggest in turn to English
novelists, the thorough way in which subjects taken from Roman life may
be presented by any novelist. Few English novelists have attained notable
success in portraying Roman life in terms which suggest the purity of
style and beauty of thought of Pater’s _Marius the Epicurean_.

The two English novels of Roman life, which have had the most profound
influence upon other English novels of Roman life, are Kingsley’s
_Hypatia_ and Wallace’s _Ben Hur_; and one must look to these two
especially, in any attempt to trace the lines of development which are of
the most supreme importance, in the English novel of Roman life. Since
the publication of these two books, _Quo Vadis_ has had a very important
effect upon the English novel of Roman life, but this book followed Canon
Farrar’s _Darkness and Dawn_, which in turn followed Eckstein’s _Nero_.
The importance of _Hypatia_ and _Ben Hur_, in the development of the
novel of Roman life, is due principally to the clear relation which they
establish between the life of the Roman world and the life of today,
and to their illustration of eternal truths. It must be emphasized that
novels such as these give one a comprehensive idea of life throughout
the Roman world; _Ben Hur_ is most successful in this, but the scenes in
_Hypatia_, though chiefly laid in Alexandria, are symbolic of Roman life
in a larger sphere. A few novels of Roman life have attained, in some
measure, the success of _Hypatia_ and _Ben Hur_, by portraying life in
a number of different parts of the Roman world. But most novelists have
done better work by limiting the scene of their novels to the vicinity
of the City of Rome itself, while not attempting work upon such large
outlines as those upon which the work of Charles Kingsley and Lew Wallace
is based. It has been found that novels whose scene is laid chiefly
outside of and apart from any great city of the Roman world,—especially
those whose scene is in one of the remote provinces of the Roman
Empire,—do not really portray Roman life. This has been found to be the
case with novels whose scene is Roman Britain, since they merely present
very elementary illustrations of school-book history, and do not portray
the life of Rome at all.

In general, the novel of Roman life has been found to be a very elastic
form, and this has necessitated a certain looseness of structure in
the section treating of its development, (Sec. III); but especial care
has been taken not to omit significant elements in this development,
and not to set up arbitrary standards of value. The principal lines of
development, which the novel of Roman life has followed, and which I
have endeavored to trace carefully, have not converged up to the present
time; this study has therefore been devoted to an analysis of important
individual elements, rather than to an attempt to construct from these
elements a complete whole, based upon any abstract theory, and having a
merely superficial unity. All elements of permanent value in the novel
of Roman life have been given an entirely thorough consideration, the
combination of a number of important elements in great novels has been
pointed out; but the possibility of a further combination of these
important elements into an even greater novel of Roman life than any
which has yet been written, is something which the future alone can
realize. While, for the sake of completeness, it has been necessary to
review a number of inferior novels; these have, in most cases, been used
to illustrate definite tendencies in particular lines of development
of the novel of Roman life; or to mark the exact points at which such
particular lines of development pass outside the limits of the field of
the true novel of Roman life.

It is sincerely hoped that this study will serve as a complete and
unbiased review of all the best work that has been done in the novel of
Roman life. This work has been shown to be one requiring scholarship of
the highest order, and offering to the reader products, whose literary
merit compares favorably with that of the best work produced in other
departments of the historical novel. In portraying life in the past
with realistic effect, the novel of Roman life has been shown to be a
direct development of the historical novel, a literary form which has
in all important respects followed the example of Sir Walter Scott, and
which has continued to show evidences of vigor and power to the present
time. The life of ancient Rome has been shown to offer to the English
historical novelist a field rich in material which illustrates the vital
connection between the life of the past and the life of the present.




FOOTNOTES


[1] _Evander_: Mr. Eden Phillpotts, (1919).

[2] e. g., _A Friend of Caesar_: Mr. William Stearns Davis, (1900).

[3] _Princess Salome_: Dr. Burris Jenkins, Lippincott, Phila., (1921).

[4] _Pomponia, the Gospel in Caesar’s Household_: Mrs. J. B. Peploe Webb,
(1867), (Presbyterian Publication Company, o. p.).

[5] Emma Leslie in _Sowing Beside All Waters_, etc., furnishes a clear
example of the most worthless kind of work to be found in the form of the
story of religious instruction.

[6] Scott rarely made a great historical character _the central figure_
of a novel. An exception is seen in the character of Queen Mary in _The
Abbot_.

[7] _Prefatory Letter_ to _Peveril of the Peak_.

[8] Scott’s _Introduction_ to _Ivanhoe_.

[9] Mr. Borden’s list of novels of Roman life by foreign authors is:

  _Nero_: Ernst Eckstein, (1889)

  _A Thorny Path_: George Ebers, (1892)

  _Quo Vadis_: H. Sienkiewicz, (1895)

  _The Death of the Gods_: D. Merejkowski, (1901)

[10] _The Progress of Romance_ (1785).

[11] _General Preface_ to the _Waverly Novels_.

[12] For a more complete outline of the tendencies of the romance at this
time, see _The Development of the English Novel_: Wilbur L. Cross.

[13] This motive is used in Mr. E. L. White’s _Andivius Hedulio_, and in
Baring-Gould’s _Perpetua_; in each of these novels the hero makes his
escape through the drain.

[14] Thomas Love Peacock said _The Epicurean_ was “not faithful to
ancient manners, and ignorant of Epicureanism.”

[15] The date 1827 is given in the publisher’s note to the 1901 edition,
as the date when _Salathiel_ was first published. This is evidently
a mistake on the part of the publishers (Messrs. Funk and Wagnalls),
since 1829 is given as the original date of publication by historians
of the novel (_e. g._, George Saintsbury in _The English Novel_), and
in biographical accounts of Croly (_e. g._, _The Dictionary of National
Biography_, etc.).

[16] Josephus is the direct source usually, and always the ultimate
source of all novels which take the siege of Jerusalem for their theme.
_cf._ Whyte-Melville’s _The Gladiators_.

[17] Croly’s classical scholarship is especially well displayed in his
_Catiline_, which tells in the form of a verse drama the story of the
famous conspiracy against the Roman republic.

[18] Since Bulwer wrote for many years under this name, before he became
the Earl of Lytton, it is quite permissable to use the shorter form of
his name.

[19] The scene of _Valerius_, of course, opens in Britain, but nothing of
importance to the story happens there. This is doubtless a mere device
to arouse the interest of English readers in the hero by hinting at the
connection of “Roman” Britain with Rome.

[20] The date 1840, given in some guides to historical fiction, has been
found to be incorrect.

[21] _Hypatia_ was begun as a serial in Fraser’s Magazine in 1851.

[22] In regard to Kingsley’s choice of Hypatia for his heroine, it
should be said that she typifies the last adherent of Greek philosophy,
and this is the real reason she is chosen. There is, however, a marked
similarity between Kingsley’s heroine and Ware’s Zenobia. Both were
women who aspired to power, independent of the Roman government; and
both conceived the idea of relying on male counselors. Hypatia, in
speaking of Philammon, says: “If I could but train him into a Longinus,
I could dare to play the part of a Zenobia, with him as counselor... And
for my Odenatus—Orestes?” She did indeed attempt to follow this plan,
even forming an alliance with Orestes, whom she detested. But even if
Kingsley’s heroine was in part suggested to him by Ware’s Zenobia, this
is not to be considered an important reason leading to the writing of
_Hypatia_.

[23] For this aspect of the Oxford conspiracy, see George Borrow’s
_Lavengro_, (1851), and _The Romany Rye_, (1857); also W. L. Cross, _The
Development of the English Novel_, p. 211, and W. L. Gates, _Essay on
Newman_, in _Three Studies in Literature_, N. Y., (1899).

[24] These quotations are all from the same letter, which may be found in
_Charles Kingsley; His Letters and Memories of His Life_, edited by his
wife: Scribners, N. Y., 1894, abridged from the London Edition.

[25] Quoted from a notice of the English translation by M. J. Safford.
The notice appeared in a contemporary number of _The Spectator_, St.
Louis.

[26] From a contemporary review in _The Mail and Express_, N. Y.

[27] Among authors cited are Virgil, Pliny the Elder, Martial, Cicero,
Seneca, St. Jerome, Juvenal, Tacitus, Plautus, Dion Cassius, Aulus
Gellius, Aurelius Victor, Suetonius, Ovid, Ammianus Marcellinus,
Tertullian, and a number of others.

[28] Wallace owes little in the chariot-race scene to Quinton’s _The
Money God_, though a similar scene in _The Money God_ has been pointed
out.

[29] Arthur Hobson Quinn, Professor of English and (former) Dean of the
College, University of Pennsylvania, in _The American Novel—Past and
Present; Lectures by the Faculty_, 1913-14, p. 302.

[30] J. M. Murray, _The Problem of Style_, (1922); quoted in _The
Classical Weekly_ February 26, 1923.

[31] _The Temptation of St. Anthony_ is probably the best example of
dream literature in the world, and Mr. E. L. White may have had in mind
this method of transporting one’s thoughts to the past, when he was
collecting material for _Andivius Hedulio_ (1921).

[32] See his letter to Mr. Maurice, January 16, 1851 (already quoted), in
_Charles Kingsley, Letters and Memories of His Life_, ed. by his wife,
abr. from London ed., _Scribner’s_, 1894.

[33] Author’s _Note to the Reader_.

[34] _Walter Pater, a Critical Study_, by Edward Thomas, N. Y., 1913.

[35] Mr. F. S. Dunn, while speaking with due reverence of Pater’s chaste
diction and chaster ethics, notes two trifling errors made in _Marius
the Epicurean_ in regard to the topography of Rome. (F. S. Dunn, _The
Historical Novel in the Classroom_,—_Classical Journal_, April, 1911.)

[36] Quinton in _The Money God_, had spoken of the two favorite bears
of the Emperor Galerius, giving as his source Lactantius, _de Morte
persecutorum_, cap. 21.




BIBLIOGRAPHY


_Explanation_

The following list of titles will be divided into sections, according
to the plan followed in tracing the development of the novel of Roman
life, and is intended to serve as a supplement to Section III of the
foregoing study. In each section of the list the titles will be arranged,
as nearly as possible, according to the chronological order of the dates
of publication, except in cases where an author has written more than
one fiction on Roman life. In such cases all his books will be mentioned
together in the order of their publication. In case the original date
of publication of a book is uncertain, the date of the best available
edition will be given; or if no date is known for a book, it will be
listed at the end of the section in which it belongs, or after other
books, (the date of which is known), by the same author. In some cases
title will be listed of books which are out of print but may be found
here and there in public libraries. Books which I believe are practically
unobtainable will be marked with an asterisk (*). The list includes all
true English novels of Roman life, as well as all other books written in
English, whose titles have been collected as by-products of the novel
of Roman life. These by-products will be classified according to their
relative importance to the study of the novel of Roman life, the more
important books being given first.

The earliest known date of each novel is given in parentheses, (). Short
stories, including those published in collections, have been omitted.


NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE, AND THEIR BY-PRODUCTS


1. NOVELS CONNECTED WITH THE GENESIS OF THE NOVEL OF ROMAN LIFE. (See §
II, p. 17.)

  _Letters Supposed to have passed between Theodosius and
  Constantia_—Langhorne, John; London, (1778).

  _Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, a Narrative Founded on History_—Miss
  O’Keefe; London, (1814).

  _Valerius, a Roman Story_—Lockhart, J. G.; London, (1821)—N. Y.
  Harper, 1835.

  _The Epicurean_—Moore, Thomas; (1827)—McClurg, Chicago, 1890.

  _Salathiel, the Immortal_—Croly, George; (1827)—Repub. Funk &
  Wagnalls, New York, under title, _Tarry Thou Till I Come_, 1903.

  _The Alexandrians, an Egyptian Tale of the Fourth Century_—Anon.
  Whittaker, London, (1830).

  _The Last Days of Pompeii_—Bulwer-Lytton, Sir E. G.; Dutton, N.
  Y., (1834).

  _The Stoic_—Stanford, Jane K.; London, (1834).


2. IMPORTANT NOVELS BY PREACHERS. (See § III, A, p. 34.)

  _Zenobia, or the Fall of Palmyra_—Ware, William; Burt, N. Y.,
  (1836)—James Miller, N. Y., 1869.

  _Aurelian: Rome, Third Century_—Ware, William; orig. pub. as
  _Probus_, (1838)—Burt, N. Y., n. d., under title of _Aurelian_.

  _Julian; Scenes in Judea_—Ware, William; Estes, Boston, (1841).

  _Hypatia_—Kingsley, Charles; (1853)—MacMillan, N. Y., 1902.

  _Fabiola: The Church of the Catacombs_—Wiseman, Cardinal N.;
  Burns & Oates, London, (1855).

  _Callista_—Newman, Cardinal John Henry; (1856)—Longman, N. Y.,
  1890.

  _Darkness and Dawn_—Farrar, Archdeacon Frederic W.;
  (1892)—Longmans, N. Y., 1895.

  _Gathering Clouds_—Farrar, Archdeacon Frederic W.;
  (1895)—Longmans, N. Y., 1896.

  _Perpetua_—Baring-Gould, Rev. S.; Dutton, N. Y., (1897).

  _Domitia_—Baring-Gould; Fred A. Stokes, N. Y., (1898).


3. TWO NOVELS BY PEDANTS. (See § III, D, p. 73.)

  _Dion and the Sibyls, a Romance of the First Century_—Keon, Miles
  Gerald; London, Bentley, (1866).

  _The Money God, or The Empire and the Papacy_—Quinton, M. A.;
  Kelly, Piet & Co., Baltimore (1873).

  (*_Aurelia, or the Jews of Capena Gate_—Quinton, M. A.; n. d.)

  (*_Furius, a Tale of the Early Christians at Rome_—Quinton, M.
  A.; n. d.)


4. IMPORTANT NOVELS BY TEACHERS. (v. III, G.)

  _Helena’s Household; Rome, First Century_—De Mille, James;
  (1858)—Ward & Drummond, N. Y., 1897.

  *_The Martyr of the Catacombs_—De Mille, James; (1858).

  _Kallistratus, an Autobiography_—Gilkes, A. H.; Longmans,
  (1897)—Frowde, London, 1912.

  *_Four Sons_—Gilkes, A. H.; Symcox, Dulwich, (1909).

  _A Friend of Caesar_—Davis, William Stearns; Macmillan, N. Y.,
  (1900).

  _The Unwilling Vestal_—White, Edward Lucas; Dutton, N. Y., (1918).

  _Andivius Hedulio_—White, Edward Lucas; Dutton, N. Y., (1921).

  *_Claudian, Second Century_—Munro, Rev. Edward M., M. A.;
  Masters, London, n. d.


5. ARTISTIC NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE. (See § III, H, p. 108.)

  *_The Fawn of Sertorius_—Landor, Robert Eyres; Longmans, London,
  (1846); (scene in Spain).

  _Marius, the Epicurean_—Pater, Walter Horatio; Macmillan, N. Y.,
  (1885).

  _Veranilda_—Gissing, George; Archibald, Constable & Co., London,
  (1904).

  _Evander_—Phillpotts, Eden; Macmillan, N. Y., (1919).

  _Pan and the Twins_—Phillpotts, Eden; Macmillan, N. Y., (1922).


6. POPULAR NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE, INCLUDING THOSE NOT OTHERWISE
CLASSIFIED. (See § III, E, p. 75, and F, p. 90.)

  *_The Empress_—Bennett, G.; Smith & Elder, London, (1835);
  (listed as a novel of Roman life).

  _Attila, or the Huns_—James, G. P. R.; (1837)—Routledge, London,
  1903.

  *_The Gladiator, a Tale of the Roman Empire_—Lamont, Miss M. M.;
  (1840)—Longmans, London, 1849.

  _Julia of Baiae; or The Days of Nero_—Pickering, Ellen; Saxton &
  Miles, N. Y., (1843).

  _Antonina_—Collins, Wilkie; Harper, N. Y., (1850).

  *_The Siege of Damascus, a Historical Romance_—Nisbet, James;
  Chapman, London, (1851).

  _The Roman Traitor, or the Days of Cicero, Cato and
  Catiline_—Herbert, H. W.; Peterson, Philadelphia, (1853).

  *_The Wager of Battle_—Herbert, H. W., n. d. (Roman Britain).

  _The Slaves of Sabinus, Jew and Gentile_—Yonge, Charlotte
  M.; National Society’s Depository, Sanctuary, Westminster,
  (1861)—Whittaker, N. Y., 1890.

  *_The Cook and the Captive; or Attalus the Hostage_—Yonge,
  Charlotte M.; Whittaker, N. Y., (1894).

  _The Gladiators_—Whyte-Melville, G. J.; (1863)—Ward & Lock, N.
  Y., 1890.

  _Ænone, a Tale of Slave Life in Rome_—Kip, L.; Bradburn, N. Y.;
  (1866).

  *_Ierne of Armorica; a Tale of the Time of Clovis_—Bateman, J.
  C.; Sadlier, N. Y., (1873), (scene in Gaul).

  *_Claudius_—Causton, Mrs. R. K.; Hatchards, London, (1878).

  *_Blue and Green_—Pottinger, Sir Henry; Chapman, London, (1879).

  _Ben Hur_—Wallace, Gen. Lew; Harper, N. Y., (1880).

  _Neaera_—Graham, John W.; Macmillan, N. Y., (1886).

  _The Son of a Star_—Richardson, B. W.; Longmans, N. Y., (1888).

  _Masters of the World_—Hoppus, Mary A. M.; Bentley, (1888), (the
  date 1885 is probably incorrect).

  *_A Queen Among Queens_—MacDowall, C. J. F. S.; Swan, London,
  (1889), (Zenobia).

  _Cleopatra_—Haggard, Sir H. Rider; Longmans, N. Y., (1889).

  _Pearl-Maiden_—Haggard, Sir H. Rider; Longmans, London, (1902).

  *_Acte_—Westbury, Hugh, pseud., (Farrie, Hugh C.); Bentley,
  London, (1890).

  _Barabbas_—Corelli, Marie; Lippincott, Philadelphia, (1893).

  _The Sign of the Cross_—Barrett, Wilson; Lippincott,
  Philadelphia, (1897).

  *_Pharos, the Egyptian_—Boothby, G.; Ward & Lock, London, (1899).

  _The Lion’s Brood_—Osborne, Duffield; Doubleday, N. Y., (1901).

  _She Stands Alone_—Ashton, Mark; L. C. Page & Co., Boston, (1901).

  _Amor Victor_—Kenyon, Orr; Stokes, N. Y., (3rd ed., 1902).

  _Vergilius, a Tale of the Coming of Christ_—Bacheller, Irving;
  Harper, N. Y., (1904).

  _Lux Crucis, a Tale of the Great Apostle_—Gardenhire, S. M.;
  Harper, N. Y., (1904).

  *_Marcus and Faustina_—Carrel, Frederic; J. Long, London, (1904).

  *_Et tu, Sejane_—Twells, Miss J. H.; Coates, Philadelphia, (1904).

  _Psyche_—Cramp, Walter S.; Little & Brown, Boston, (1905).

  _An Heir to Empire_—Cramp, Walter S.; Richard C. Badger, The
  Gorham Press, Boston, (1913).

  *_The Son of the Swordmaker_—Reed, Opie; Laird, Chicago, (1906).

  _Under Pontius Pilate_—Schuyler, William; Funk & Wagnalls, N. Y.,
  (1906).

  _Saul of Tarsus_—Miller, Elizabeth; Bobbs-Merrill Co.,
  Indianapolis, (1906).

  _The City of Delight, a Love Drama of the Siege and Fall of
  Jerusalem_—Miller, Elizabeth; Bobbs-Merrill Co., Indianapolis,
  (1908).

  *_The Senator Licinius_—Kelly, W. P.; Dutton, N. Y., (1909).

  *_The Doomed City_—Carling, J. R.; Ward & Lock, London, (1910).

  _The Fetters of Freedom_—Brady, Cyrus Townsend; Dodd, Mead & Co.,
  N. Y., (1913).

  _Unto Caesar_—Orczy, Baroness; Doran, N. Y., (1914).

  _The Standard Bearer_—Whitehead, A. C.; American Book Co., N. Y.,
  (1915).

  _Behold the Woman_—Harré, T. Everett; Lippincott, Philadelphia,
  (1916).

  _Princess Salome_—Jenkins, B. A.; Lippincott, Philadelphia,
  (1921).

  _Revelation_—Deamer, Dulcie; Boni & Liveright, N. Y., (1922).

  _Nabala_—Caskie, Jaquelin A.; J. B. Bell, Inc., Lynchburg, Va.,
  (1922).


7. BOOKS FOR BOYS, INCLUDING MOST BOOKS ON ROMAN BRITAIN. (See p. 10 and
p. 96.)

  _Two Thousand Years Ago_—Church, Rev. A. J.; Dodd, Mead & Co., N.
  Y., (1885).

  _The Count of the Saxon Shore_—Church, Rev. A. J.; Putnam, N. Y.,
  (1887), (Britain).

  _To the Lions_—Church, Rev. A. J.; Putnam, N. Y., (1889).

  _The Burning of Rome_—Church, Rev. A. J.; (1892)—Macmillan, N.
  Y., 1902.

  _Lords of the World_—Church, Rev. A. J.; Scribner, N. Y., (1898).

  _The Crown of Pine_—Church, Rev. A. J.; Seely, London,
  (1905)—Scribners, N. Y., 1906.

  *_No. XIII; or The Story of the Lost Vestal_—Marshall, E.;
  Cassell, London, (1885), (Britain).

  _The Young Carthaginian_—Henty, G. A.; Burt, N. Y., (1886).

  _For the Temple_—Henty, G. A.; Blackie, London, (1888).

  _Beric, the Briton_—Henty, G. A.; Scribners, N. Y.,
  (1892)—Scribners, N. Y., 1911, (Britain).

  *_One Traveller Returns_—Murray, D. C., & Herman, H.; Chatto,
  London, (1887), (Britain).

  _The Wonderful Adventures of Phra the Phoenician_—Arnold, Edwin
  Lester; Burt, N. Y., (1890), (Britain).

  _Lepidus the Centurion, a Roman of To-day_—Arnold, E. L.;
  Crowell, N. Y., (1901), (a Roman brought back to life in England).

  *_Woe to the Conquered_—Clark, Alfred; Low, London, (1893).

  *_A Duke of Britain_—Maxwell, Sir H. E.; Blackwood, (1895).

  *_Aneroestes the Gaul_—Smith, E. M.; Unwin, London, (1899).

  *_Britain’s Greatness Foretold_—“Trevelyan, Marie”; Hogg, London,
  (1900).

  *_A Story of Ancient Wales_—Elrington, H.; Whittaker, N. Y.,
  (1900).

  *_Marcus, the Young Centurion_—Fenn, G. M.; Nister, London,
  (1904).

  _A Daughter of the Druids_—Sedgwick, S. N.; Stockwell, (1904),
  (Britain).

  *_At Sunrise_—Spurell, Herbert; Greening, London, (1904),
  (Britain).

  _Nikanor, Teller of Tales_—Taylor, C. B.; McClurg, Chicago,
  (1906), (Britain).

  _Under the Roman Eagles_—“Sagon, Amyot”; Partridge, London,
  (1907).

  _The Meeting of the Ways_—Baxter, J. D.; Greening, London,
  (1908), (Britain).

  _Durobrivae; Roman Rochester_—Harris, E.; Harris, Rochester,
  (1909).

  *_Boudicca_—Ward, C. H. D.; Ousely, London, (1912), (Britain).


8. STORIES OF RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. (See p. 39 and p. 53.)

Explanation of Abbreviations:

R. T. S.—Religious Tract Society, London.

S. P. C. K.—Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London.

  _Naomi: or the Last Days of Jerusalem_—Webb, Mrs. J. B. Peploe;
  Routledge, London, (1841), (date 1840 is probably incorrect).

  _Julamerk: a Tale of the Nestorians_—Webb, J. B. P.; Ward & Lock,
  London, (1848).

  _The Martyrs of Carthage_—Webb, J. B. P.; Ward & Lock, London,
  (1850).

  _Alypius of Tagaste_—Webb, J. B. P.; R. T. S., (Revell, N. Y.),
  (1865).

  *_Pomponia; the Gospel in Caesar’s Household_—Webb, J. B. P.;
  Pres. Pub. Co., Philadelphia, (1867).

  *_Evadne: or An Empire in Its Fall_—Rowcroft, C.; Boone, London,
  (1850).

  _The Egyptian Wanderers_—Neale, Rev. John Mason; S. P. C. K.,
  (1854).

  *_The Farm of Aptonga_—Neale, J. M.; Parker, London, (1856)—S. P.
  C. K., 1918.

  *_The Exiles of the Cebenna_—Neale, J. M., (pseud. Aurelius
  Gratianus); Parker, London, (1859)—S. P. C. K., 1918.

  _The Quay of the Dioscuri_—Neale, J. M.; S. P. C. K., (1917).

  _The Lions of Wady-Arabia_—Neale, J. M.; S. P. C. K., (1917).

  _The Prince of the House of David; or Three Years in the Holy
  City_—Ingraham, Rev. J. H.; (1855)—Roberts, Boston, (1895).

  *_Adonijah; the Jewish Dispersion_—Strickland, Jane M.; Simpkin,
  London, (1856).

  *_Parthenia, or the Last Days of Paganism_—Lee, Mrs. E. B.;
  Routledge, London, (1858).

  _Caecilia Metella, or Rome Enslaved_—“Julia, Aemilia,” (Emily
  Julia Black); Chapman, London, (1859).

  _Claudia and Pudens: Early Christians in Gloucester_—Lysons, S.;
  Hamilton, London, (1861).

  *_The Villa of Claudius_—Cutts, Rev. E. L.; S. P. C. K., (1861).

  _Martyrs of Spain_—Charles, Mrs. Elizabeth Rundle; S. P. C. K.,
  (1862).

  _The Victory of the Vanquished_—Charles, E. R.; Dodd, Mead & Co.,
  N. Y., (1871).

  _Conquering and to Conquer_—Charles, E. R.; S. P. C. K.,
  (1876)—Dodd, Mead & Co., N. Y., (1876).

  _Lapsed, But Not Lost_—Charles, E. R.; S. P. C. K., (1877)—Dodd,
  Mead & Co., N. Y., (1879).

  _Attila, and His Conquerors_—Charles, E. R.; S. P. C. K., (1894).

  *_Life in Judea; or Glimpses of the First Christian
  Age_—Richards, Maria T.; Simpkin, London, (1862).

  *_Victor, a Tale of the Great Persecution_—Perry, G. G.; S. P. C.
  K., London, (1864).

  *_Vestina’s Martyrdom_—Pitman, Emma R.; Hodder, London, (1869).

  _Claudia_—Tucker, Charlotte; Nelson, London, (1869).

  _Freedom, a Tale of the Early Christians_—Tucker, C.; R. T. S.,
  (1871).

  _Daybreak in Britain_—Tucker, C., (pseud. A. L. O. E.); R. T. S.,
  (1880).

  _Stars in a Stormy Night, or Light from the Catacombs_—“E. L.
  M.”; Nelson, London, (1870).

  _Æmilius: Decian and Valerian Persecutions_—Crake, Rev. A. D.;
  Mowbray, London, (1871).

  _Evanus; Constantine the Great_—Crake, A. D.; Mowbray, London,
  (1872).

  _The Camp on the Severn_—Crake, A. D.; Mowbray, London,
  (1875)—The Vatican Library, N. Y., 1891.

  _The Victor’s Laurel_—Crake, A. D.; Mowbray, London, (1885)—The
  Vatican Library, N. Y., 1889.

  *_The Standard Bearer_—Palmer, Ellen; Hamilton, Edinburgh, (1871).

  *_Nonna: A Story of the Days of Julian the Apostate_—Palmer,
  Ellen; Hamilton, Edinburgh, (1872).

  _Marcella of Rome_, (also called _The Fearless Christian
  Maiden_)—Knevels, Mrs. C. D., (pseud. Eastwood, Frances); Shaw,
  London, (1872).

  *_Adah, the Jewish Maiden_—Gray, Agnes M.; Hamilton, Edinburgh,
  (1872).

  *_Cyllene_—Sneyd, Henry; Longmans, London, (1873).

  *_Epiphanius_—Mossman, T. W.; Hayes, London, (1874).

  _Gaudentius_—Davies, Rev. G. S.; S. P. C. K., (1874).

  _Julian’s Dream_—Davies, G. S.; S. P. C. K., (1875).

  _St. Paul in Greece_—Davies, G. S., n. d.

  _Glaucia: the Greek Slave_—Leslie, Emma; Nelson and Phillips, N.
  Y., (1874)—R. T. S., 1904.

  _Quadratus, a Tale of the World in the Church_—Leslie, E.;
  Phillips and Hunt, Cincinnati, (1875).

  _Sowing Beside All Waters, a Tale of the Early Church_—Leslie,
  E.; R. T. S., n. d. (This is merely _Quadratus_ rewritten.)

  _Flavia_—Leslie, E.; Nelson and Phillips, N. Y., (1875), later
  published under the title of

  _Out of the Mouth of the Lion; or the Church in the
  Catacombs_—Leslie, E.; Bradley, Boston, (1880), (also pub.
  anon.).

  _On the Emperor’s Service_—Leslie, E.; R. T. S., (1904).

  *_Edol the Druid_—Kingston, W. H. G.; Partridge, London, (1874).

  *_Jovinian; Early Days of Papal Rome_—Kingston, W. H. G.;
  Hamilton, London, (1877).

  _Zipporah, the Jewish Maiden_—Brewsher, Mrs. M. E.; London,
  (1875).

  _Philochristus_—Abbott, Rev. Edwin A.; Macmillan, N. Y., (1878).

  _Onesimus, Christ’s Freedman: Memoirs of a Disciple of St.
  Paul_—Abbott, E. A.; Revell, N. Y., (1882)—(Repub. Corwin, C. E.,
  ed.)

  _Silanus the Christian_—Abbott, E. A.; Macmillan, N. Y., (1906).

  *_Narcissus_—Carpenter, Rev. W. Boyd; S. P. C. K., (Young, N.
  Y.), (1879).

  *_Dio the Athenian_—Burr, E. F.; Methodist Bk., N. Y., (1880).

  *_Aleph the Chaldean; the Messiah as Seen from Alexandria_—Burr,
  E. F.; Ketcham, N. Y., (1891).

  *_Fabius, the Roman_—Burr, E. F.; Baker, N. Y., n. d.

  _The Wards of Plotinus_—Hunt, Mrs. John; Strahan, London, (1881).

  *_Valeria, or the Martyr of the Catacombs_—Witherow, W. H.;
  Woolmer, London, (1883).

  _Dorcas, the Daughter of Faustina_—Kouns, Nathan C.; Fords, N.
  Y., (1884).

  _Arius the Libyan: an Idyl of the Primitive Church_—Kouns, N. C.;
  Appleton, N. Y., (1884).

  *_From Crown to Crown; a Tale of the Early Church_—Anon.;
  Hatchards, London, (1885).

  *_By the King and Queen_—Mercier, Mrs. Jerome; Rivington, London,
  (1886).

  *_The Slave Girl of Pompeii_—Holt, Emily S.; Shaw, London, (1886).

  *_Flora, the Roman Martyr_—Anon.; Burns & Oates, London,
  (1886)—Benziger, N. Y., 1887.

  _Leah of Jerusalem_—Berry, E. P.; Randolph & Co., (1890).

  *_Philip_—Cutler, Mary C.; Nelson, London, (1890).

  _A Son of Isaachar_—Brooks, S.; Putnam, N. Y., (1890).

  _Come Forth_—Ward, Mrs. Elizabeth Phelps; (1890), (story of
  Lazarus).

  _The Doom of the Holy City_—Farmer, Lydia H.; Randolph, N. Y.,
  (1895).

  _Titus, A Comrade of the Cross_—Kingsley, Florence M.; D. C.
  Cook, Chicago, (1895).

  _Stephen, a Soldier of the Cross_—Kingsley, F. M.; Henry Altemus,
  Philadelphia, (1896).

  _Paul, a Herald of the Cross_—Kingsley, F. M.; Altemus,
  Philadelphia, (1897).

  _The Cross Triumphant_—Kingsley, F. M.; Ward & Lock, London,
  (1900).

  _Tor, a Street Boy of Jerusalem_—Kingsley, F. M.; D. C. Cook,
  Chicago, (1905).

  _Veronica_—Kingsley, F. M.; Appleton, N. Y., (1913).

  _The Story of the Other Wise Man_—VanDyke, Henry J.; Harper, N.
  Y., (1895)—Harper, N. Y., 1907.

  _Antipas, Son of Chusa, and Others Whom Jesus Loved_—Houghton,
  Louise S.; Randolph, N. Y., (1896).

  _John, a Tale of King Messiah_—Woods, Katherine P.; Dodd, Mead &
  Co., N. Y., (1896).

  _The Son of Ingar_—Woods, Katherine P.; Dodd, Mead & Co., N. Y.,
  (1897).

  _From Dusk to Dawn_—Woods, K. P.; Appleton, N. Y., (1899).

  *_Victor Serenus_—Wood, Henry; Gay & Bird, London, (1898).

  _The Victory that Overcometh_—Gee, Annie L.; S. P. C. K., (1898).

  _The Minister of Carthage_—Mason, Caroline Atwater; Doubleday,
  Garden City, N. Y., (1899).

  _The White Shield_—Mason, C. A.; Griffith & Rowland,
  Philadelphia, (1904).

  _Paul of Tarsus_—Bird, Robert; Nelson, London, (1900).

  _Lucius Flavus_—Spillman, Rev. Joseph; Kilner, Philadelphia,
  (1900).

  _Diomede the Centurion_—Henderson, Rev. H. A.; Methodist Bk., N.
  Y., (1902).

  *_Adnah_—Ellis, J. Breckenridge; R. T. S., (1902).

  *_Sancta Paula_—Perry, W. C.; Sonnenschein, London, (1902).

  _Bethsaida_—Dearborn, Malcolm; Dillingham, N. Y., (1902).

  *_In Holiest Troth_—Fidelis, Sister Mary; Burns & Oates, London,
  (1903).

  *_A Hero in Wolf-skin_—Bevan, Tom; R. T. S., (1904).

  *_The Court of Pilate_—Hobbs, Roe R.; Fenno, N. Y., (1906).

  *_The Story of a Child That Jesus Took_—Smyth, S. P. N.; Pilgrim
  Press, Boston, (1907).

  *_Nizra_—Klarman, Andrew; Fred. Pustet & Co., (1908).

  *_Leo of Mediolanum_—Hollis, Gertrude; S. P. C. K., (1909).

  *_For Queen and Emperor_—Protheroe, Ernest; R. T. S., (1909).

  *_The Forgotten Door_—Cowper, Frank; S. P. C. K., (1909).

  _Mary of Magdala_—Roberson, Mrs. H. G.; Saalfield, Akron, O.,
  (1909).

  _Mary of Magdala_—Saltus, Edgar; Greening, London, (1909).

  *_The Testament of Judas_—Byatt, H.; Long, London, (1909).

  _Prisca of Patmos_—McCook, Rev. Henry C.; The Westminster Press,
  Philadelphia, (1911).

  *_Faustula_—“Ayscough, John”, (Francis Browning Drew); Chatto,
  London, (Kilner, Philadelphia), (1912).

  _The Story of Phaedrus; How We Got the Greatest Book in the
  World_—Hillis, Rev. Newell Dwight; Macmillan, N. Y., (1914).

  _The Coming of the King_—Babcock, Bernie; Bobbs Merrill Co.,
  Indianapolis, (1921).

  _Simon of Cyrene_—Shastid, Thomas Hall; Wahr, Ann Arbor,
  Michigan, (1923).


9. BOOKS LISTED AS NOVELS OF ROMAN LIFE. (Date of Publication Uncertain.)

1st Century.

  *_Iola, the Senator’s Daughter_—Hillhouse, N. L.

  *_Julia of Baiae_—Brown, J. W.; n. d., (possibly a forgery from
  Ellen Pickering’s novel of the same title).

  _Philo, Life in the First Century_—Hamilton, J.

  *_Unlaid Ghost: a Study in Metempsychosis_—Anon.

  *_Vergilia_—Grey, G.

2nd Century.

  *_Letters from Rome_—Wace, Eustace.

  *_Marius Flaminius; the Days of Hadrian_—Anon.

3rd Century.

  *_The Theban Legion_—Blackburn, E. M.


10. RELIGIOUS STORIES. (Date of Publication Uncertain.)

a. Those with Scene near Rome.

1st Century.

  *_Mina: The Days of Nero and the Early Christians_—Ross, Andrew.

  _Neither Rome nor Judea_—Hoven, E.

2nd Century.

  *_The Child Martyr and Early Christians in Rome_—Anon.

  *_Three Roman Girls_—Bamford, M. E.; American Baptist Pub. Co.

  *_The Three Berenices_—Bright, Mrs. A. M.

  _The Captive Maiden_—Anon.

4th Century.

  _The Last Battle of the Gods_—Kelly, F. C.; Philadelphia.

b. Those with Scene in Africa.

  _African Fabiola, or The Church of Carthage in the Days of
  Tertullian_—Clarke, A. C.

  _Fabiola’s Sisters, a Companion to Fabiola_—Clarke, A. C.

  *_Deodatus; or Martyr of Carthage_—Williams, E.

  *_Our Little Carthaginian Cousin_—Winslow, Clara V.

  *_Vandal, or Half a Christian_—Luby, William J.

c. Those with Scene in Asia.

  _Andros of Ephesus_—Copus, Rev. J. E.

  _The Son of Siro_—Copus, Rev. J. E.; Benziger, N. Y.

  *_Aslane: Manners of the Nestorian Christians_—Anon.

  _The Fall of Palmyra, Rome, and the Early Christians_—Anon.

  *_The Fall of Damascus_—Russell, C. W.

d. Those with Scene in Palestine.

1st Century.

  _Judea Capta_—Toner, C. E.

  *_The Jews’ Tragedy_—Heming.

  *_Zerah, the Believing Jew_—Anon.

After 1st Century.

  _Abdiel; a Tale of the Early Christians_—Anon.

e. Those with Scene in Britain.

  *_Mona the Vestal_—Dorsey, Anna H.; Lippincott, Philadelphia, c.
  1850.

  *_The Alleluia Battle, or Pelagianism in Britain_—Anon.

  *_The Druidess_—Anon.