Callista : a Tale of the Third Century

by John Henry Newman

  CHAPTER I.

  SICCA VENERIA.

  In no province of the vast Roman empire, as it existed in the middle ofthe third century, did Nature wear a richer or a more joyous garb than shedisplayed in Proconsular Africa, a territory of which Carthage was themetropolis, and Sicca might be considered the centre. The latter city,which was the seat of a Roman colony, lay upon a precipitous or steepbank, which led up along a chain of hills to a mountainous track in thedirection of the north and east. In striking contrast with this wild andbarren region was the view presented by the west and south, where for manymiles stretched a smiling champaign, exuberantly wooded, and varied with athousand hues, till it was terminated at length by the successive tiers ofthe Atlas, and the dim and fantastic forms of the Numidian mountains. Theimmediate neighbourhood of the city was occupied by gardens, vineyards,corn-fields, and meadows, crossed or encircled here by noble avenues oftrees or the remains of primeval forests, there by the clustering groveswhich wealth and luxury had created. This spacious plain, though levelwhen compared with the northern heights by which the city was backed, andthe peaks and crags which skirted the southern and western horizon, wasdiscovered, as light and shadow travelled with the sun, to be diversifiedwith hill and dale, upland and hollow; while orange gardens, orchards,olive and palm plantations held their appropriate sites on the slopes orthe bottoms. Through the mass of green, which extended still more thicklyfrom the west round to the north, might be seen at intervals two solidcauseways tracking their persevering course to the Mediterranean coast,the one to the ancient rival of Rome, the other to Hippo Regius inNumidia. Tourists might have complained of the absence of water from thescene; but the native peasant would have explained to them that the eyealone had reason to be discontented, and that the thick foliage and theuneven surface did but conceal what mother earth with no niggard bountysupplied. The Bagradas, issuing from the spurs of the Atlas, made up indepth what it wanted in breadth of bed, and ploughed the rich and yieldingmould with its rapid stream, till, after passing Sicca in its way, it fellinto the sea near Carthage. It was but the largest of a multitude ofothers, most of them tributaries to it, deepening as much as theyincreased it. While channels had been cut from the larger rills for theirrigation of the open land, brooks, which sprang up in the gravel whichlay against the hills, had been artificially banked with cut stones orpaved with pebbles; and where neither springs nor rivulets were to befound, wells had been dug, sometimes to the vast depth of as much as 200fathoms, with such effect that the spurting column of water had in someinstances drowned the zealous workmen who had been the first to reach it.And, while such were the resources of less favoured localities or seasons,profuse rains descended over the whole region for one half of the year,and the thick summer dews compensated by night for the daily tributeextorted by an African sun.

  At various distances over the undulating surface, and through the woods,were seen the villas and the hamlets of that happy land. It was an agewhen the pride of architecture had been indulged to the full; edifices,public and private, mansions and temples, ran off far away from eachmarket-town or borough, as from a centre, some of stone or marble, butmost of them of that composite of fine earth, rammed tight by means offrames, for which the Saracens were afterwards famous, and of whichspecimens remain to this day, as hard in surface, as sharp at the angles,as when they first were finished. Every here and there, on hill or crag,crowned with basilicas and temples, radiant in the sun, might be seen thecities of the province or of its neighbourhood, Thibursicumber, Thugga,Laribus, Siguessa, Sufetula, and many others; while in the far distance,on an elevated table-land under the Atlas, might be discerned the ColoniaScillitana, famous about fifty years before the date of which we write forthe martyrdom of Speratus and his companions, who were beheaded at theorder of the proconsul for refusing to swear by the genius of Rome and theemperor.

  If the spectator now takes his stand, not in Sicca itself, but about aquarter of a mile to the south-east, on the hill or knoll on which wasplaced the cottage of Agellius, the city itself will enter into thepicture. Its name, Sicca Veneria, if it be derived (as some suppose) fromthe Succoth benoth, or "tents of the daughters," mentioned by the inspiredwriter as an object of pagan worship in Samaria, shows that it owed itsfoundation to the Phoenician colonists of the country. At any rate, thePunic deities retained their hold upon the place; the temples of theTyrian Hercules and of Saturn, the scene of annual human sacrifices, wereconspicuous in its outline, though these and all other religious buildingsin it looked small beside the mysterious antique shrine devoted to thesensual rites of the Syrian Astarte. Public baths and a theatre, acapitol, imitative of Rome, a gymnasium, the long outline of a portico, anequestrian statue in brass of the Emperor Severus, were grouped togetherabove the streets of a city, which, narrow and winding, ran up and downacross the hill. In its centre an extraordinary spring threw upincessantly several tons of water every minute, and was inclosed by thesuperstitious gratitude of the inhabitants with the peristylium of asacred place. At the extreme back, towards the north, which could not beseen from the point of view where we last stationed ourselves, there was asheer descent of rock, bestowing on the city, when it was seen at adistance on the Mediterranean side, the same bold and striking appearancewhich attaches to Castro Giovanni, the ancient Enna, in the heart ofSicily.

  And now, withdrawing our eyes from the panorama, whether in its distant ornearer objects, if we would at length contemplate the spot itself fromwhich we have been last surveying it, we shall find almost as much torepay attention, and to elicit admiration. We stand in the midst of a farmof some wealthy proprietor, consisting of a number of fields and gardens,separated from each other by hedges of cactus or the aloe. At the foot ofthe hill, which sloped down on the side furthest from Sicca to one of thetributaries of the rich and turbid river of which we have spoken, a largeyard or garden, intersected with a hundred artificial rills, was devotedto the cultivation of the beautiful and odoriferous _khennah_. A thickgrove of palms seemed to triumph in the refreshment of the water's side,and lifted up their thankful boughs towards heaven. The barley harvest inthe fields which lay higher up the hill was over, or at least wasfinishing; and all that remained of the crop was the incessant andimportunate chirping of the _cicadae_, and the rude booths of reeds andbulrushes, now left to wither, in which the peasant boys found shelterfrom the sun, while in an earlier month they frightened from the grain themyriads of linnets, goldfinches, and other small birds who, as in othercountries, contested with the human proprietor the possession of it. Onthe south-western slope lies a neat and carefully dressed vineyard, thevine-stakes of which, dwarfish as they are, already cast long shadows onthe eastern side. Slaves are scattered over it, testifying to thescorching power of the sun by their broad _petasus_, and to its oppressiveheat by the scanty _subligarium_, which reached from the belt or girdle tothe knees. They are engaged in cutting off useless twigs to which the lastshowers of spring have given birth, and are twisting those which promisefruit into positions where they will be safe both from the breeze and fromthe sun. Everything gives token of that gracious and happy season whichthe great Latin poets have hymned in their beautiful but heathen strains;when, after the heavy rains, and raw mists, and piercing winds, and fitfulsun-gleams of a long six months, the mighty mother manifests herself anew,and pours out the resources of her innermost being for the life andenjoyment of every portion of the vast whole;--or, to apply the lines of amodern bard--

  "When the bare earth, till now Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned, Brings forth the tender grass, whose verdure clads Her universal face with pleasant green; Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower, Opening their various colours, and make gay Her bosom, swelling sweet; and, these scarce blown, Forth flourishes the clustering vine, forth creeps The swelling gourd, up stands the corny reed Embattled in her fields, and the humble shrub, And bush with frizzled hair implicit; last Rise, as in dance, the
stately trees, and spread Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gem Their blossoms; with high woods the hills are crowned With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side With borders long the rivers; that earth now Seems like to heaven, a seat where gods might dwell, Or wander with delight, and love to haunt Her sacred shades."

  A snatch from some old Greek chant, with something of plaintiveness in thetone, issues from the thicket just across the mule-path, cut deep in theearth, which reaches from the city gate to the streamlet; and a youth, whohad the appearance of the assistant bailiff or _procurator_ of the farm,leaped from it, and went over to the labourers, who were busy with thevines. His eyes and hair and the cast of his features spoke of Europe; hismanner had something of shyness and reserve, rather than of rusticity; andhe wore a simple red tunic with half sleeves, descending to the knee, andtightened round him by a belt. His legs and feet were protected by bootswhich came half up his calf. He addressed one of the slaves, and his voicewas gentle and cheerful.

  "Ah, Sansar!" he cried, "I don't like your way of managing these branchesso well as my own; but it is a difficult thing to move an old fellow likeyou. You never fasten together the shoots which you don't cut off, theyare flying about quite wild, and the first ox that passes through thefield next month for the ploughing will break them off."

  He spoke in Latin; the man understood it, and answered him in the samelanguage, though with deviations from purity of accent and syntax, notwithout parallel in the _talkee-talkee_ of the West Indian negro.

  "Ay, ay, master," he said, "ay, ay; but it's all a mistake to use theplough at all. The fork does the work much better, and no fear for thegrape. I hide the tendril under the leaf against the sun, which is theonly enemy we have to consider."

  "Ah! but the fork does not raise so much dust as the plough and the heavycattle which draw it," returned Agellius; "and the said dust does more forthe protection of the tendril than the shade of the leaf."

  "But those huge beasts," retorted the slave, "turn up great ridges, anddestroy the yard."

  "It's no good arguing with an old vinedresser, who had formed his theorybefore I was born," said Agellius good-humouredly; and he passed on into agarden beyond.

  Here were other indications of the happy month through which the year wasnow travelling. The garden, so to call it, was a space of several acres inextent; it was one large bed of roses, and preparation was making forextracting their essence, for which various parts of that country are tothis day celebrated. Here was another set of labourers, and a man ofmiddle age was surveying them at his leisure. His business-like, severe,and off-hand manner bespoke the _villicus_ or bailiff himself.

  "Always here," said he, "as if you were a slave, not a Roman, my goodfellow; yet slaves have their Saturnalia; always serving, not worshippingthe all-bounteous and all-blessed. Why are you not taking holiday in thetown?"

  "Why should I, sir?" asked Agellius; "don't you recollect old Hiempsal'ssaying about 'one foot in the slipper, and one in the shoe.' Nothing wouldbe done well if I were a town-goer. You engaged me, I suppose, to be here,not there."

  "Ah!" answered he, "but at this season the empire, the genius of Rome, thecustoms of the country, demand it, and above all the great goddess Astarteand her genial, jocund month. 'Parturit almus ager;' you know the verse;do not be out of tune with Nature, nor clash and jar with the great systemof the universe."

  A cloud of confusion, or of distress, passed over Agellius's face. Heseemed as if he wished to speak; at length he merely said, "It's a faulton the right side in a servant, I suppose."

  "I know the way of your people," Vitricus replied, "Corybantians,Phrygians, Jews, what do you call yourselves? There are so many fantasticreligions now-a-days. Hang yourself outright at your house-door, if youare tired of living--and you are a sensible fellow. How can any man, whosehead sits right upon his shoulders, say that life is worth having, and notworth enjoying?"

  "I am a quiet being," answered Agellius, "I like the country, which youthink so tame, and care little for the flaunting town. Tastes differ."

  "Town! you need not go to Sicca," answered the bailiff, "all Sicca is outof town. It has poured into the fields, and groves, and river side. Liftup your eyes, man alive, open your ears, and let pleasure flow in. Bepassive under the sweet breath of the goddess, and she will fill you withecstasy."

  It was as Vitricus had said; the solemn feast-days of Astarte were incourse of celebration; of Astarte, the well-known divinity of Carthage andits dependent cities, whom Heliogabalus had lately introduced to Rome, whoin her different aspects was at once Urania, Juno, and Aphrodite,according as she embodied the idea of the philosopher, the statesman, orthe vulgar; lofty and intellectual as Urania, majestic and commanding asJuno, seductive as the goddess of sensuality and excess.

  "There goes the son of as good and frank a soldier as ever brandishedpilum," said Vitricus to himself, "till in his last years some infernalgod took umbrage at him, and saddled him and his with one of those absurdsuperstitions which are as plentiful here as serpents. He indeed was tooold himself to get much harm from it; but it shows its sour nature inthese young shoots. A good servant, but the plague's in his bones, and hewill rot."

  His subordinate's reflections were of a different character: "The very airbreathes sin to-day," he cried; "oh that I did not find the taint of thecity in these works of God! Alas! sweet Nature, the child of the Almighty,is made to do the fiend's work, and does it better than the town. O yebeautiful trees and fair flowers, O bright sun and balmy air, what abondage ye are in, and how do ye groan till you are redeemed from it! Yeare bond-slaves, but not willingly, as man is; but how will you ever beturned to nobler purpose? How is this vast, this solid establishment oferror, the incubus of many thousand years, ever to have an end? Youyourselves, dear ones, will come to nought first. Anyhow, the public wayis no place for me this evening. They'll soon be back from their accursedrevelry."

  A sound of horns and voices had been heard from time to time through thewoods, as if proceeding from parties dispersed through them; and in thegrowing twilight might be seen lights, glancing and wandering through thefoliage. The cottage in which Agellius dwelt was on the other side of thehollow bridle-way which crossed the hill. To make for home he had first towalk some little distance along it; and scarcely had he descended into itfor that purpose, when he found himself in the front of a band ofrevellers, who were returning from some scene of impious festivity. Theywere arrayed in holiday guise, as far as they studied dress at all; thesymbols of idolatry were on their foreheads and arms; some of them wereintoxicated, and most of them were women.

  "Why have you not been worshipping, young fellow?" said one.

  "Comely built," said another, "but struck by the furies. I know the cut ofhim."

  "By Astarte," said a third, "he's one of those sly Gnostics! I have seenthe chap before, with his hangdog look. He is one of Pluto's whelps, firstcousin to Cerberus, and his name's Channibal."

  On which they all began to shout out, "I say, Channibal, Channibal, here'sa lad that knows you. Old fellow, come along with us;" and the speakermade a dash at him.

  On this Agellius, who was slowly making his way past them on the brokenand steep path, leapt up in two or three steps to the ridge, and went awayin security; when one woman cried out, "O the toad, I know him now; he isa wizard; he eats little children; didn't you see him make that sign? it'sa charm. My sister did it; the fool left me to be one of them. She wasever doing so" (mimicking the sign of the cross). "He's a Christian,blight him! he'll turn us into beasts."

  "Cerberus, bite him!" said another, "he sucks blood;" and taking up astone, she made it whiz past his ear as he disappeared from view. Ageneral scream of contempt and hatred followed. "Where's the ass's head?put out the lights, put out the lights! gibbet him! that's why he has notbeen with honest people down in the vale." And then they struck up ablasphemous song, the sentiments of which we are not going even toconceive, much less to attempt in words.