Callista : a Tale of the Third Century

by John Henry Newman

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  A SICK CALL.

  Aristo was not a fellow to have very long distresses; he never would havedied of love or of envy, for honour or for loss of property; but hispresent calamity was one of the greatest he could ever have, and weighedupon him as long as ever any one could. His love for his sister was real,but it would not do to look too closely into the grounds of it; if we areobliged to do so, we must confess to a suspicion that it lay rather incertain outward, nay, accidental attributes of Callista, than in Callistaherself. Did she lose her good looks, or her amiable unresistingsubmission to his wishes, whatever they were, she would also lose her holdupon his affections. This is not to make any severe charge against him,considering how it is with the common run of brothers and sisters,husbands and wives; at the same time, most people certainly are haunted bythe memory of the past, and love for "Auld lang syne," and this Aristomight indeed have had, and perhaps had not. He loved chiefly for thepresent, and by the hour.

  However, at the present time he was in a state of acute suffering, and,under its paroxysm, he bethought him again of Cornelius's advice, which hehad rejected, to betake himself to Polemo. He had a distant acquaintancewith him, sufficient for his purpose, and he called on him at the Mercuryafter the latter's lecture. Polemo was no fool, though steeped inaffectation and self-conceit, and Aristo fancied that his sister might bemore moved by a philosophical compatriot than any one else. Polemo'sastonishment, however, when the matter was proposed to him surpassedwords, and it showed how utterly Aristo was absorbed in his own misery,that the possibility of such a reception should not have occurred to him.What, he, the friend of Plotinus, of Rogatian, and the other noble men andwomen who were his fellow-disciples at Rome; he, a member of theintellectual aristocracy of the metropolis of the world; what, he to visita felon in prison! and when he found the felon was a Christian, he fullythought that Aristo had come to insult him, and was on the point ofbidding him leave him to himself. Aristo, however, persisted; and hisevident anguish, and some particulars which came out, softened him.Callista was a Greek; a literate, or blue stocking. She had never indeedworn the philosophic pallium (as some Christian martyrs afterwards, if notbefore, have done--St. Catherine and St. Euphemia), but there was no reasonwhy she should not do so. Polemo recollected having heard of her at theCapitol, and in the triclinium of one of the Decurions, as a lady ofsingular genius and attainments; and he lately had made an attempt to forma female class of hearers, and it would be a feather in his cap to make aconvert of her. So, not many days after, one evening, accompanied byAristo, he set out in his litter to the lodging where she was in custody;not, however, without much misgiving when it came to the point, someshame, and a consequent visible awkwardness and stiffness in his manner.All the perfumes he had about him could not hinder the disgust of such avisit rising up into his nostrils.

  Callista's room was very well for a prison; it was on the ground-floor ofa house of many stories, close to the _Officium_ of the Triumvirate.Though not any longer under their strict jurisdiction, she was allowed toremain where she had first been lodged. She was in one of the roomsbelonging to an apparitor of that _Officium_, and, as he had a wife, or atleast a partner, to take care of her, she might consider herself very welloff. However, the reader must recollect that we are in Africa, in themonth of July, and our young Greek was little used to heats, which madethe whole city nothing less than one vast oven through the greater part ofthe twenty-four hours. In lofty spacious apartments the resource adoptedis to exclude the external air, and to live as Greenlanders, with closedwindows and doors; this was both impossible, and would have beenunsuccessful, if attempted in the small apartment of Callista. But feverof mind is even worse than the heat of the sky; and it is undeniable thather health, and her strength, and her appearance are affected by both thephysical and the moral enemy. The beauty, which was her brother's delight,is waning away; and the shadows, if not the rudiments of a divinerloveliness, which is of expression, not of feature, which inspires nothuman passion, but diffuses chaste thoughts and aspirations, are takingits place. Aristo sees the change with no kind of satisfaction. The roomhas a bench, two or three stools, and a bed of rushes in one corner. Astaple is firmly fixed in the wall; and an iron chain, light, however, andlong, if the two ideas can be reconciled, reaches to her slender arm, andis joined to it by an iron ring.

  On Polemo's entering the room, his first exclamation was to complain ofits closeness; but he had to do a work, so he began it without delay.Callista, on her part, started; she had no wish for his presence. She wasreclining on her couch, and she sat up. She was not equal to acontroversy, nor did she mean to have one, whatever might be the case with_him_.

  "Callista, my life and joy, dear Callista," said her brother, "I havebrought the greatest man in Sicca to see you."

  Callista cast upon him an earnest look, which soon subsided intoindifference. He had a rose of Cyrene in his hand, whose perfume hediffused about the small room.

  "It is Polemo," continued Aristo, "the friend of the great Plotinus, whoknows all philosophies and all philosophers. He has come out of kindnessto you."

  Callista acknowledged his presence; it was certainly, she said, a greatkindness for any one to visit her, and there.

  Polemo replied by a compliment; he said it was Socrates visiting Aspasia.There had always been women above the standard of their sex, and they hadever held an intellectual converse with men of mind. He saw one suchbefore him.

  Callista felt it would be plunging her soul still deeper into shadows,when she sought realities, if she must take part in such an argument. Sheremained silent.

  "Your sister has not the fit upon her?" asked Polemo of Aristo aside,neither liking her reception of him, nor knowing what to say. "Not at all,dear thing," answered Aristo; "she is all attention for you to begin."

  "Natives of Greece," at length said he, "natives of Greece should knoweach other; they deserve to know each other; there is a secret sympathybetween them. Like that mysterious influence which unites magnet tomagnet; or like the echo which is a repercussion of the original voice.So, in like manner, Greeks are what none but they can be," and he smelt athis rose and bowed.

  She smiled faintly when he mentioned Greece. "Yes," she said, "I am fonderof Greece than of Africa."

  "Each has its advantages," said Polemo; "there is a pleasure in impartingknowledge, in lighting flame from flame. It would be selfish did we notleave Greece to communicate what they have not here. But you," he added,"lady, neither can learn in Greece nor teach in Africa, while you are inthis vestibule of Orcus. I understand, however, it is your own choice; canthat be possible?"

  "Well, I wish to get out, if I could, most learned Polemo," said Callistasadly.

  "May Polemo of Rhodes speak frankly to Callista of Proconnesus?" askedPolemo. "I would not speak to every one. If so, let me ask, what keeps youhere?"

  "The magistrates of Sicca and this iron chain," answered Callista. "Iwould I could be elsewhere; I would I were not what I am."

  "What could you wish to be more than you are?" answered Polemo; "moregifted, accomplished, beautiful than any daughter of Africa."

  "Go to the point, Polemo," said Aristo, nervously, though respectfully;"she wants home-thrusts."

  "I see my brother wants you to ask how far it depends on me that I amhere," said Callista, wishing to hasten his movements; "it is because Iwill not burn incense upon the altar of Jupiter."

  "A most insufficient reason, lady," said Polemo.

  Callista was silent.

  "What does that action mean?" said Polemo; "it proposes to mean nothingelse than that you are loyal to the Roman power. You are not of thoseGreeks, I presume, who dream of a national insurrection at this time? thenyou are loyal to Rome. Did I believe a Leonidas could now arise, anHarmodius, a Miltiades, a Themistocles, a Pericles, an Epaminondas, Ishould be as ready to take the sword as another; but it is hopeless.Greece, then, makes no claim on yo
u just now. Nor will I believe, thoughyou were to tell me so yourself, that you are leagued with any obscure,fanatic sect who desire Rome's downfall. Consider what Rome is;" and nowhe had got into the magnificent commonplace, out of his last panegyricaloration with which he had primed himself before he set out. "I am aGreek," he said, "I love Greece, but I love truth better; and I look atfacts. I grasp them, and I confess to them. The wide earth, through untoldcenturies, has at length grown into the imperial dominion of One. It hasconverged and coalesced in all its various parts into one Rome. This,which we see, is the last, the perfect state of human society. The courseof things, the force of natural powers, as is well understood by all greatlawyers and philosophers, cannot go further. Unity has come at length, andunity is eternity. It will be for ever, because it is a whole. Theprinciple of dissolution is eliminated. We have reached the _apotelesma_of the world. Greece, Egypt, Assyria, Libya, Etruria, Lydia, have all hadtheir share in the result. Each of them, in its own day, has striven invain to stop the course of fate, and has been hurried onwards at itswheels as its victim or its instrument. And shall Judaea do what profoundEgypt and subtle Greece have tried in vain? If even the freedom ofthought, the liberal scepticism, nay, the revolutionary theories of Hellashave proved unequal to the task of splitting up the Roman power, if thepomp and luxury of the East have failed, shall the mysticism of Syriasucceed?"

  "Well, dear Callista, are you listening?" cried Aristo, not over-confidentof the fact, though Polemo looked round at him with astonishment.

  "Ten centuries," he continued, "ten centuries have just been completedsince Rome began her victorious career. For ten centuries she has beenfulfilling her high mission in the dispositions of Destiny, and perfectingher maxims of policy and rules of government. For ten centuries she haspursued one track with an ever-growing intensity of zeal, and anever-widening extent of territory. What can she not do? just one thing;and that one thing which she has not presumed to do, you are attempting.She has maintained her own religion, as was fitting; but she has neverthrown contempt on the religion of others. This you are doing. Observe,Callista, Rome herself, in spite of her great power, has yielded to thatnecessity which is greater. She does not meddle with the religions of thepeoples. She has opened no war against their diversities of rite. Theconquering power found, especially in the East, innumerable traditions,customs, prejudices, principles, superstitions, matted together in onehopeless mass; she left them as they were; she recognised them; it wouldhave been the worse for her if she had done otherwise. All she said to thepeoples, all she dared say to them, was, 'You bear with me, and I willbear with you.' Yet this you will not do; you Christians, who have nopretence to any territory, who are not even the smallest of the peoples,who are not even a people at all, you have the fanaticism to denounce allother rites but your own, nay, the religion of great Rome. Who are you?upstarts and vagabonds of yesterday. Older religions than yours, moreintellectual, more beautiful religions, which have had a position, and ahistory, and a political influence, have come to nought; and shall youprevail, you, a _congeries_, a hotch-potch of the leavings, and scraps,and broken meat of the great peoples of the East and West? Blush, blush,Grecian Callista, you with a glorious nationality of your own to go shareswith some hundred peasants, slaves, thieves, beggars, hucksters, tinkers,cobblers, and fishermen! A lady of high character, of brilliantaccomplishments, to be the associate of the outcasts of society!"

  Polemo's speech, though cumbrous, did execution, at least the terminationof it, upon minds constituted like the Grecian. Aristo jumped up, swore anoath, and looked round triumphantly at Callista, who felt its force also.After all, what did she know of Christians?--at best she was leaving theknown for the unknown: she was sure to be embracing certain evil forcontingent good. She said to herself, "No, I never can be a Christian."Then she said aloud, "My Lord Polemo, I am not a Christian;--I never said Iwas."

  "That is her absurdity!" cried Aristo. "She is neither one thing nor theother. She won't say she's a Christian, and she won't sacrifice!"

  "It is my misfortune," she said, "I know. I am losing both what I see, andwhat I don't see. It is most inconsistent: yet what can I do?"

  Polemo had said what he considered enough. He was one of those who soldhis words. He had already been over-generous, and was disposed to giveaway no more.

  After a time, Callista said, "Polemo, do you believe in one God?"

  "Certainly," he answered; "I believe in one eternal, self-existingsomething."

  "Well," she said, "I feel that God within my heart. I feel myself in Hispresence. He says to me, 'Do this: don't do that,' You may tell me thatthis dictate is a mere law of my nature, as is to joy or to grieve. Icannot understand this. No, it is the echo of a person speaking to me.Nothing shall persuade me that it does not ultimately proceed from aperson external to me. It carries with it its proof of its divine origin.My nature feels towards it as towards a person. When I obey it, I feel asatisfaction; when I disobey, a soreness--just like that which I feel inpleasing or offending some revered friend. So you see, Polemo, I believein what is more than a mere 'something.' I believe in what is more real tome than sun, moon, stars, and the fair earth, and the voice of friends.You will say, Who is He? Has He ever told you anything about Himself?Alas! no!--the more's the pity! But I will not give up what I have, becauseI have not more. An echo implies a voice; a voice a speaker. That speakerI love and I fear."

  Here she was exhausted, and overcome too, poor Callista! with her ownemotions.

  "O that I could find Him!" she exclaimed, passionately. "On the right handand on the left I grope, but touch Him not. Why dost Thou fight againstme?--why dost Thou scare and perplex me, O First and Only Fair? I have Theenot, and I need Thee." She added, "I am no Christian, you see, or I shouldhave found Him; or at least I should say I had found Him."

  "It is hopeless," said Polemo to Aristo, in much disgust, and with somehauteur of manner: "she is too far gone. You should not have brought me tothis place."

  Aristo groaned.

  "Shall I," she continued, "worship any but Him? Shall I say that He whom Isee not, whom I seek, is our Jupiter, or Caesar, or the goddess Rome? Theyare none of them images of this inward guide of mine. I sacrifice to Himalone."

  The two men looked at each other in amazement: one of them in anger.

  "It's like the demon of Socrates," said Aristo, timidly.

  "I will acknowledge Caesar in every fitting way," she repeated; "but I willnot make him my God."

  Presently she added, "Polemo, will not that invisible Monitor havesomething to say to all of us,--to you,--at some future day?"

  "Spare me! spare me, Callista!" cried Polemo, starting up with a violenceunsuited to his station and profession. "Spare my ears, unhappywoman!--such words have never hitherto entered them. I did not come to beinsulted. Poor, blind, hapless, perverse spirit--I separate myself from youfor ever! Desert, if you will, the majestic, bright, beneficent traditionsof your forefathers, and live in this frightful superstition! Farewell!"

  He did not seem better pleased with Aristo than with Callista, thoughAristo helped him into his litter, walked by his side, and did what hecould to propitiate him.