manner,"[1] and his subsequent interview with the singers in the expectant martyr's cell; the visit to the gladiators' ward and its adjoining menagerie,—and indeed the whole description of the doings at the amphitheatre (parts of which recal, in their way, some pages in "Ivanhoe," devoted to the spectators at the tournament); to which may be added, the meeting with Athanasia in the temple of Apollo, and her interrupted share in the idolatrous hymn—her part in the betrayed assembly of believers, and its stern results—the baptismal and betrothal scene in the moonlit grotto,
Under the shade of melancholy boughs—
}where stood the fountain which became to Valerius the λουτρον παλιγγενεσιας, as he stepped into its cool water, and the aged Aurelius stooped over him, and sprinkled the drops upon his forehead, and repeated the appointed words, and then kissed his brow as he came forth from the water, while Athanasia also drew slowly near, and hastily pressed his forehead with trembling lips, and then all three sat down together, and in silence, by the lonely well. Jeffrey's fling at Mr. Lockhart, as being "mighty religious too," and as obtruding a "devotional orthodoxy" with a tendency, "every now and then, a little towards cant,"—which, however, had reference to his Scotch novels (in common with those of Professor Wilson)—finds no justification, so far as it is a sneer, in the instance of "Valerius." The author has even exercised a reserve and restraint, in the face of strong temptations (from the nature of his agitating theme) to an opposite treatment, which to many appear forbiddingly cold and fatally apathetic. It cannot be alleged that his heathens are all painted black, and his Christians white. Not Gibbon himself is much more charitably—or, if you will, impartially—disposed towards Trajan and his policy. The keen-scented editor of the Edinburgh must have been keen-scented beyond human or even canine parallel, could he have sniffed the odour of sanctity, in "devotional orthodoxy" power, and in the rankness of a tendency to "cant," in the too dispassionate and so far uncharacteristic colloquies of Mr. Lockhart's Roman Christians. They are, in fact, unreal from their very failing to speak out: not that they would, or ought
- ↑ "Ah, sir!" said the old soldier, "I thought it would be even so—there is not a spearman in the band that would not willingly watch here a whole night, could he be sure of hearing that melody. Well do I know that soft voice—Hear now, how she sings by herself—and there again, that deep strong note—that is the voice of the prisoner." "Hush!" quoth the centurion, "heard you ever anything half so divine? Are these words Greek or Syrian?" "What the words are I know not," said the soldier; "but I know the tune well—I have heard it played many a night with hautboy, clarion, and dulcimer, on the high walls of Jerusalem, while the city was beleaguered." …. "But this, surely," said the centurion, "is no warlike melody." "I know not," quoth the old soldier, "whether it be or not—but I am sure it sounds not like any music of sorrow,—and yet what plaintive tones are in the part of that female voice!" "The bass sounds triumphantly, in good sooth." "Ay, sir, but that is the old man's own voice—I am sure he will keep a good heart to the end, even though they should be singing their farewell to him. Well, the emperor loses a good soldier, the hour Tisias dies. I wish to Jupiter he had not been a Christian, or had kept his religion to himself. But as for changing now—you might as well think of persuading the prince himself to be a Jew."—Valerius. Book i. chap. viii.
