less ready to accept Imperial invitations to He cannot find fault with the book, because be frank about Imperial books. True, the he does not choose." to afford the rogue an book is avowedly written to enforce a polit- opportunity of playing the magnanimous; ical doctrine, and to criticise the book, and and he cannot praise it even if it is good, yet steer quite clear of the very subject because he is afraid of being confounded which it is all about, would require an in- with those who praise it from other motives. genuity which even French journalists could And, besides, the book cannot be good. scarcely be expected to possess. French" When a man is criminal enough to make cooks can make choice dishes without any meat, but it must be much harder honestly to criticise a book whose gist and real pur- historian-king ought to commence by ab port you are forbidden to approach. dicating. He has not done so, and his work must be one of ignorance and deceit." himself a king, he cannot have all the qualities requisite for writing history; an Under the slender disguise of Labienus, a stubborn republican of the time of Au-No," exclaims Labienus, "I will not fall gustus, the author of the proscribed brochure into this literary ambush, or be trepanned, - for the translation of which we are in- or, above all, allow others to fall in. I debted to the Daily News- assails the idea will not write on the memoirs of Cæsar; the of Augustus writing the life of Julius Cæsar people's silence is the lesson of kings." with a vigour and incisiveness quite inde- But still Gallio need not fear for his patron. scribable. Labienus was 66 one of those When Cæsar wants critics there will be no wicked men who must tremble under a lack. He who has made Virgils can make Arisstrong government, in order that good men tarchuses. If he wants delicate appreciamay be re-assured, and that a society shaken tion of this little morsel of imperial literato its foundations may be firmly fixed anew ture, or learned appreciations, there will upon its basis." He looked as old as the be a shower of them. If you want "inTwelve Tables; he had fantastic ideas, genious and piquant observations, views and, "above all, he had a strange, bizarre, full of novelty, elegant and courteous disinexplicable. hobby - he loved liberty." cussions, sustained in an exquisite tone by "He had no sentiment of fine gradations people of the best society, you will have of tone and colour, no notion of time, no them." And if you want "kneeling consense of transitions; he still believed in troversy and grovelling rhetoric, and epijustice, in law, in science, in conscience; grams whose point tickles instead of stings, the Empire was for him but a parenthesis bites which are caresses, and terrible rein history, a shameful page of the Roman proaches which please, and adorable flatannals, and he was eager to turn the leaf teries adroitly slipped in under an appearor to tear it." What a singular humour! ance of severe judgment, and pretty little "Conceive his determination to remain a amiable words delicately enveloped in the citizen in a city where there remained none folds of a ferocious and stern phrase, and but subjects; he meant, like Cicero, to die bouquets of Latinity, and floods of melliflua free man in a free country; imagine such ous eloquence, and arguments offered upon extravagance! Citizen and free; the mad- velvet cushions, and objections presented You see he was an imbecile! "He on a silver salver, like a letter by a serwas a man of the old party, for the Repub- vant," none of these things will be missing. lic was past; a Re-actionist, since the Re- Thousands of people "will defile before public was a thing of bygone time; a ci- the Emperor, crying at the top of their devant of the ancien régime, since the gov- voices, but he will have an attitude full of ernment of the laws was the régime of an modesty and majesty; his gestures will say old age -in a word, he was a blockhead." Enough; his smile will say 'More.'" The obdurate republican, who so stubborn- But the blood of the sturdy republican ly refused to rejoice amid the prosperity grows hotter as he goes on, and he begins with which the good and wise Augustus to exchange this sharp and stinging banter had overwhelmed the State, encounters for a ferocious invective, more sharp and Gallio, who tells him that the memoirs of stinging still. From this bitter ridicule of Augustus have appeared. He inquires the critics he advances to the design of the how long villains have made books, and is author. The criminal who publishes an answered, "Ever since honest men were elaborate apology for his crime commits a made emperors." Gallio then invites him to criticise the new book, and assures him that "criticism will be free, for tyranny is going to give a week's holiday to literature. But Labienus is not to be moved. man!" -- second crime more heinous and more deadly than the first. The crime only oppresses the present, the justification of it oppresses the future. Snch an apology is "the coup d'état in morals, the creation of 66 disorder, injustice systematized, the organ- face of the awe with which, on their own ization of evil, the promulgation of non- confession, M. de Sacy and one or two law, the proscription of truth, the definitive other journalists have turned over the defeat of public reason, the general rout pages of the Emperor's book, the blast of of ideas, an intellectual Actium." This is fresh air from the proscribed pamphlet is "the real crowning of an edifice of villany urgently needed. It shows that not all and infamy." The book of Augustus is the power and thought which makes French "his life elevated into an example, his am- literature so great is bowed down before bition made innocent, his will formulated the false gods of despotism and hero-worinto law; it is the code of malefactors and ship. The Emperor's book, if left unopthe bible of villains. The wretch who as- posed except by "kneeling controversy, sassinates you makes a sermon to you on and grovelling rhetoric, and epigrams that assassination, and then asks your opinion tickle," might perhaps have been justly of his little composition. Yes, your sin- called the intellectual Actium, the defincere opinion upon the form and spirit; itive victory over public reason. But the your political and literary opinion, for he vigour of Labienus, and the eagerness with is an artist and a good fellow, and he wants which it is sought after, may be taken as to know your opinion on his work." Still, strong proofs that there are still some in Gallio hints, it may be worth while to dis- the land who refuse to think a solemn and cuss with Augustus, points of grammar, windy Cæsarism the highest of political numismatics, or archæology. Labienus is creeds. The coup d'état may be, as our inexorable. People like Augustus, in spite sublime moral instructor, the Times, mainof all they may say, feel that they are un- tains that it is justified by twelve years' der the ban of society. 66 'They have left success. But it would be a very evil prosit by a crime, and they wish to return to it pect not only for France but for Europe_if by a ruse." The whole object of his life is the principles of the coup d'état were to be to curry favour with honest folks. For generally accepted without emphatic prothis he is willing to assume any disguise; test. he will go anywhere to recover his lost honours; and may be seen begging, crowned mendicant as he is, begging esteem from door to door. At last Labienus becomes breathless and almost incoherent with fury. "This last struggle," he shrieks out," this last struggle of Cæsar with the opinion that is overwhelming him, has something lugubrious and comic about it, like the last grimace of a criminal on the gallows, or the smile of the gladiator who wishes to die with grace." This book of Cæsar is the toilette of the condemned, the coquetry of the last day." “He dares in a preface to address questions to the reader, but it is the lictor who will reply." From Public Opinion. THE SUPPRESSED PAMPHLET ON THE (Les Propos de Labienus.) This happened in the seventh year after Christ, in the thirty-eighth year of the reign of Augustus. The "people king had a master. It is certainly not surprising that the police should have violently suppressed so Having slowly come out from the vapour tremendous an onslaught. If there is to of blood which had reddened it on first apbe any suppression, one cannot wonder pearing, the star of Julius was rising, and that this should be thought a fitting case shed a soft light on the silent forum. It was on which to exercise it. Of all the literary a fine time. The Curia was silent. There attacks which have ever been made upon were no longer plebiscites, no longer electhe Emperor, this may fairly be considered tions, no longer disorder, no longer any army the most pungent and venomous. Even of the Republic: everywhere Roman peace Mr. Kinglake's biting invective is less effi- obtained over the Romans; there was only cient than M. Rogeard's peculiarly stinging one tribune, Augustus; only one army, the sarcasms. Politically, the ruler may feel army of Augustus; only one will, his; only his position to be impregnable, but the bit-one consul, he; only one censor, he again; ter contempt of Labienus for the literary powers of Augustus, and for the expected fulsomeness of his critics, can scarcely fail to mortify the vanity of the author. In only one lender, he and he always. Eloquence, proscribed, had gone to die in the shadow of the schools; literature was expiring under the protection of Maecenas; Livy ceased to write, Labeo to speak.. As for glory, they had it in such a way as is proper for an empire which respects itself. There had been a little fighting everywhere; people had been beaten in the north and in the south, to the right and to the left, quite sufficiently; there were names to put up at the corners of the streets and on triumphal arches; they had conquered people to chain in bas-reliefs. There had been one of those wars even in which the Emperor had commanded and been wounded in person, which is the height of glory for a great nation. It was a fine time for amusements. The only embarrassment was which to choose. There were theatres, gladiators, the amphitheatre, circuses, races, hunts, and athletic games. Never had the Roman people amused themselves so much. There was, it is true, here and there some shade in the picture; there had been a dozen plots, as many seditions, and that spoils a reign; it was the Republicans who tried to come back. They had killed as many as they could at Actium, Alexandria, and in Sicily, for Roman liberty died hard; no less than seven butcheries, en masse, had been requisite to disable it; legions had seemed to rise from the earth, and these ever-returning Republicans had been conscientiously killed but how many? Three hundred thousand, perhaps, at the most; that was good, but it was not enough, and there were still some of them left. Hence the life of this great man was not free from some little vexations. In the Senate he was obliged to wear a cuirass and a sword under his robe (which is inconvenient, especially in hot countries), and to surround himself with ten stout fellows whom he called his friends, but who nevertheless were a nuisance to him. There was also a certain distant expedition, of which there was not great reason to be proud; the unfortunate Varus had stupidly been beaten with three legions over the Rhine. This had a bad effect. War is like all good things it must not be abused. It has the merit of being the most absorbing spectacle, the most engaging diversion, but it is a resource which must be husbanded. This terrible game must not be played too often, as it may turn against him who plays it; and when one is a saviour, he must not send the people whom he has saved too often to be butchered. This might have been said, but who thought of such a thing? Only 20,000 mothers; and what is that in a great empire? Glory, it is well known, does not give her favours for nothing, and Rome was rich enough in blood and money to pay for them. Lolius, moreover, had lost an eagle, but it could be done without; and as for the finances, a new era had just opened, administration had just been invented, and the world was going to be administered. The monster empire had a hundred million hands and one belly; unity was founded! If this system brought some abuses with it, it was only a cloud to the sunshine of universal joy - a discordant note, which was lost in the concert of the public gratitude and all these little ills which now and then ruffled the surface of the empire were in reality only happy contrasts and piquant diversions to a people happy in their good fortune, to give them rest from happiness and time to breathe; they were like seasoning to a dish-just enough to prevent monotony in success, to temper hilarity, and avert satiety. People were stifling with prosperity; for there are benefits which overwhelm and joys which kill. Who, then, in that golden age, who could complain? Tacitus says, seven years later, at the death of Augustus, that but few citizens remained who had seen the Republic; there remained still fewer who had served it; they had been carried off by civil wars or proscriptions, by summary execution, assassination, impressment, or exile, want or despair-time had done the rest. At this time lived Labienus. Do you know who Labienus was? He was a strange man. Just imagine, he persisted in remaining a citizen in a city where there was no longer anything but subjects. Is this comprehensible? Civis Romanus sum, he would say, and no one could get him out of the habit. He wished, like Cicero, to die free in a free country: imagine the absurdity of the man! Citizen and free the madman! No doubt he said this without knowing what he was talking about. The truth was, his poor head was cracked; he had a dangerous affection of the brain- - at least this was the opinion of the doctor of Augustus, who called this kind of madness, reasoning monomania, and who had prescribed its being treated with imprisonment. Labienus had not taken this this prescription, and hence he was not cured, as you will see. - Old Labienus was one of those who had seen the Republic that was not his fault but he was foolish enough to remember it, and that was the mistake. He was under a great reign, and he was not satisfied. There are some people who never are. Sad amidst universal joy, dull amidst the Roman orgie, he was there and seemed elsewhere. He thought as people thought in the time of Fabricius, and had fantastic ideas of incred ible manias, and in particular an odd taste, When a man is guilty enough to make himstrange and inexplicable - he liked liberty. self king and stupid enough to make himself Evidently, Labienus had no common sense. God, I think he cannot have all the qualities Liked liberty! Do you know what that was? requisite for writing history." ""You are sure It was a retrograde opinion, for liberty was beforehand that he has neither common sense old and the new men liked the new system. nor good faith what remains for him to The times had progressed, and ideas also; have, then?" "He can neither know truth he alone remained stationary; he believed nor say if he knew it. And why does he in justice, laws, science, and conscience - take it into his head to write history? A evidently be was in his dotage. ... . He king historian ought to commence by abdithought, moreover, with the stoics, that pun-cating. He has not done so, and it is a bad ishment is good for criminals; and he wished sign. And then-for I have read some pasAugustus the only good he thought could happen to him- expiation. sages of it- he justifies proscriptions and apologizes for usurpation." "That was natOne day as he was walking under the ural." "And you would have me criticise portico of Agrippa he met Gallio. Now, this work of ignorance and lies, approved of Junius Gallio was a young sage, while La- by two thousand centurions, and recombienus was an old madman. He was a se- mended to the reading public by veterans? rious and mild young man, well educated Criticism!-siege you ought to have said. and elegant, polite, circumspect, and prudent, a moderate stoic; he was also a Spaniard and a Roman, a citizen and a subject, a man of two epochs and two countries; he had mixed blood and a mixed opinion, a little of this and a little of that — looking with sorrow sometimes at the tomb of liberty, and then tenderly on the cradle of the empire. No, I will not write on the Memoirs' of Augustus. The silence of the people is a lesson to kings. Labienus will give this lesson to Augustus." Never fear, if you wish for criticisms on this piece of imperial literature, if you wish for fine reviews, you will have them; if you wish for learned dissertations, it will rain with them.. Augustus, therefore, is sure This was the man who accosted Labienus to have a public, readers, judges, critics, and said, "Good day, Titus ! quid agis, dul- copyers, and commentators. I cissime rerum? How do you do?" "Not at know that the work will include the last all well if the empire is well," was the an- civil war and even the last year of Juswer. "Ah! you are always in a bad hu- lius Cæsar. Could any one think such mour, but I have some news to tell you." a thing a fact? Augustus publishing a book "There is no news for me so long as Au- on the revolution he has made himself! gustus reigns." "Come, I know you have What would be said of a criminal who pubbeen in a passion for thirty years and that lished an apology for his crime? In my you have not laughed once since the tri- opinion, he commits a more difficult crime umvirate. But hear my news, the Memoirs' than the first (for it is easier to commit a of Augustus have just appeared." "And how crime than to justify it); but this second long have brigands written books?" "Since crime, if more difficult, is also worse and honest men have made emperors." "Alas! more fatal, for the victims are more numemy dear Titus, then you will not read these rous, and the consequences more durable. "Memoirs?"" "I will read them, Gallio; The first struck at the men's lives, the but "- crying with shame “And you other at their conscience; the one kills the will answer them?" No, Gallio, I will pub- the body, the other the mind; the one oplish nothing on this subject; I will not dis- presses the present, the other the future. It pute with him who has thirty legions; in a is a coup d'état in morality, the creation of discountry which is not free, one ought to for- order, systematized injustice, the organizabid oneself to touch on contemporary histo- tion of evil, the promulgation of lawlessness, ry, and criticism in such a matter is impos- the proscription of truth, the definite defeat sible." "You will not enlighten the public, of public reason, the general rout of ideas, then?" "I do not wish to contribute to deceive it; for in these times, on such subjects nothing which appears can be good, and nothing which is good can appear. "But we are assured that criticism will be free; tyranny will give literature a week's holiday." and, in short, an intellectual battle of Actium. It is the real completion of a work (couronnement d'un édifice) of villany and infamy, and it is the only one possible. The book of Augustus is his life set up as an example, his ambition made innocent, his will formulated into a law; it is the code of malefactors, the Bible of rogues — this is the 1340. book you wish to be publicly criticised un- | criminal on the scaffold to the crowd as he der the régime of his sovereign will and walks to his doom. It is the coquetry of the pleasure! The author after all can only talk about what he knows; he knows how to pillage a town, cut the throats of a Senate, force open a treasury in a temple, and rob Jupiter; he knows how to make false keys, false oaths, and false testaments; he knows how to lie at the Forum, how to corrupt electors or do without them, how to kill his wounded colleagues, as at Modena, and how to proscribe en masse, and is well acquainted with other little games of princes. He knows, following the method of Cæsar, how to borrow from one and lend to the other, and to make friends on both sides; he knows, with a vigorous bound, how to leap all barriers, and pass all Rubicons, and then with a grand spring, rising above all laws, human and divine, how to make a high leap, and come down a king. He knows how to do all this, but not a word of history, politics, or morality. Nothing is found in his book which we want to find, and we find in profusion what is dangerous to learn. He is very fond of old words, old coins, and old helmets, but he is not fond of old morals. Will you discuss some point of grammar, archæology, or numismatics with him? be last day. Cæsar was so dirty that the executioner would not have liked to touch him; and he has scrubbed himself up a bit to embrace death. And he asks for readers! the insolent wretch! Readers for Cæsar! What would be the good of them? He has the impudence, in a preface, to put questions to his readers; but it will be the lictor who will reply to them. From the Spectator. CARDINAL WISEMAN'S LAST HOURS. THE Roman Catholic Canon Morris has published a record of the death-bed of Cardinal Wiseman which is in many respects one of singular interest. For a month the Cardinal lay literally on the very verge of death; on the first night of this weary last act of his life, extreme unction was adminis tered to him without his being conscious of what was going on, and his physicians thought it impossible he should live till morning; yet he rallied nevertheless, recov ered almost complete command of thought and speech, and lived for nearly four weeks in immediate expectation of the end. The He who would do him that honour would intervening time was one of no little suffervery foolish. He would fall into the trap ing. Twice he was operated on for carand play into his hands. People of his (Au- buncle; and his great physical prostration gustus's) sort feel, whatever they may do, was in itself a source of the worst kind of that they are under the ban of society; pain. It is such times as these which show they have removed themselves violently the true texture of a man's faith, theology, from it by a crime, and they wish to and moral calibre. His lingering death-bed re-enter it quietly by cunning. They brought out clearly, we think, both the stronhave no longer but one ambition, to curry gest and weakest side of the Cardinal's favour with honest people. For this pur- nature and of the system which he had abpose they take all disguises; they go seek-sorbed. This little book is a record of foring everywhere for their poor lost honour; titude and serenity in prolonged suffering they are like crowned beggars asking for esteem from door to door: and that is the only alms which cannot be given them. This is the case with Augustus; this drinker of men's blood only thirsts after one thing now -praises; this robber of the empire of the world only wishes to steal one thing more--to depict with curious vividness that appehis rehabilitation. But he is attempting tite for a ceremonial which (according to his what is impossible. The impotent and des- Church's teaching) displays and disposes of perate effort he makes to save some few God—that habit of administrative familiarmorsels of his reputation, this supreme effort ity with the divine substance—that relito hang his honour on a last branch, which gious communion which can scarcely be is about to fall, this last struggle of Cæsar called intellectual or spiritual, since it waits with public opinion, which is crushing him, for certain concerted signals and takes place has something lugubrious and comical about always through these formal channels,—all it, like the last grimace of a hanged man, or in short which we then pointed out as giving like the smile of a gladiator, who wishes to a bronzed, sultry, and vacant expression to die gracefully. The book of Cæsar is the the aspects of the true Roman Catholic thetoilet of the condemned man, the bow of theology. of which the friends of any man might be proud. On the other hand, the form in which his faith stamped itself on those last hours seems to us to bear out singularly the estimate which we attempted, at the time of his death, of the character of his theology. |