steadily in view; that’s why those toads of Christians will not eat them, lest they should get like them. Quiet, respectable, sensible enjoyment; not riot, or revel, or excess, or quarrelling. Life is short.” And with this undeniable sentiment he fell asleep.
CHAPTER VII.
PERSECUTION IN THE OFFING.
Next morning, as Jucundus was dusting and polishing his statues and other articles of taste and devotion, supplying the gaps in their ranks, and grouping a number of new ones which had come in from his workmen, Juba strutted into the shop, and indulged himself from time to time in an inward laugh or snigger at the various specimens of idolatry which grinned or frowned or frisked or languished on all sides of him.
“Don’t sneer at that Anubis,” said his uncle; “it is the work of the divine Callista.”
“That, I suppose, is why she brings into existence so many demons,” answered Juba; “nothing more can be done in the divine line; like the queen who fell in love with a baboon.”
“Now I come to think,” retorted Jucundus, “that god of hers is something like you. She must be in love with you, Juba.”
The youth, as was usual with him, tossed his head with an air of lofty displeasure; at length he said, “And why should she not fall in love with me, pray?”
“Why, because you are too good or too bad to need her plastic hand. She could not make anything out of you. ‘Non ex quovis ligno.’ But she’d be doing a good work if she wiled back your brother.”
“He does not want wiling any more than I,” said Juba, “I dare say! he’s no Christian.”
“What’s that?” said his uncle, looking round at him in surprise; “Agellius no Christian?”
“Not a bit of it,” answered Juba; “rest assured. I taxed him with it only last night; let him alone, he’ll come round. He’s too proud to change, that’s all. Preach to him, entreat him, worry him, try to turn him, work at the bit, whip him, and he will turn restive, start aside, or run away; but let him have his head, pretend not to look, seem indifferent to the whole matter, and he will quietly sit down in the midst of your images there. Callista has an easy task; she’ll bribe him to do what he would else do for nothing.”
“The very best news I have heard since your silly old father died,” cried Jucundus; “the very best—if true. Juba, I’ll give you an handsome present the first sow your brother sacrifices to Ceres. Ha, ha, what fine fun to see the young farmer over his cups at the Nundinæ! Ha, ha, no Christian! bravo, Juba! ha, ha, I’ll make you a present, I say, an Apollo to teach you manners, or a Mercury to give you wit.”
“It’s quite true,” said Juba; “he would not be thinking of Callista, if he were thinking of his saints and angels.”
“Ha, ha! to be sure!” returned Jucundus; “to be sure! yet why shouldn’t he worship a handsome Greek girl as well as any of those mummies and death’s heads and bogies of his, which I should blush to put up here alongside even of Anubis, or a scarabæus?”
“Mother thinks she is not altogether the girl you take her for,” said his nephew.
“No matter, no matter,” answered Jucundus, “no matter at all; she may be a Lais or Phryne for me; the surer to make a man of him.”
“Why,” said Juba, “mother thinks her head is turning in the opposite way. D’you see? Strange, isn’t it?” he added, annoyed himself yet not unwilling to annoy his uncle.
“Hm!” exclaimed Jucundus, making a wry face and looking round at him, as if to say, “What on earth is going to turn up now?”
“To tell the truth,” said Juba, gloomily, “I did once think of her myself. I don’t see why I have not as much right to do so as Agellius, if I please. So I thought old mother might do something for me; and I asked her for a charm or love potion, which would bring her from her brother down to the forest yonder. Gurta took to it kindly, for she has a mortal hatred of Callista, because of her good looks, though she won’t say so, and because she’s a Greek! and she liked the notion of humbling the haughty minx. So she began one of the most tremendous spells,” he shrieked out with a laugh, “one of the most tremendous spells in her whole budget. All and everything in the most exact religious way: wine, milk, blood, meal, wax, old rags, gods, Numidian as well as Punic; such names; one must be barbarian to boot, as well as witch, to pronounce them: a score of things there were besides. And then to see the old woman, with her streaming grey hair, twinkling eyes, and grim look, twirl about as some flute girl at a banquet; it was enough to dance down, not only the moon, but the whole milky way. But it did not dance down Callista; at which mother got savage, and protested that Callista was a Christian.”
Jucundus looked much perplexed. “Medius fidius!” he said, “why, unless we look sharp, she will be converting him the wrong way;” and he began pacing up and down the small room.
Juba on his part began singing—
“Gurta the witch would have part in the jest;
Though lame as a gull, by his highness possessed,
She shouldered her crutch, and danced with the rest.
“Sporting and snorting, deep in the night,
Their beards flashing fire, and their hoofs striking light,
And their tails whisking round in the heat of their flight.”
By this time Jucundus had recovered from the qualm which Juba’s intelligence had caused him, and he cried out, “Cease your rubbish; old Gurta’s jealous; I know her spite; Christian is the most blackguard word in her vocabulary, its Barbar for toad or adder. I see it all; no, Callista, the divine Callista, must take in hand this piece of wax, sing a charm, and mould him into a Vertumnus. She’ll show herself the more potent witch of the two. The new emperor too will help the incantation.”
“What! something is coming?” asked Juba, with a grin.
“Coming, boy? yes, I warrant you,” answered his uncle. “We’ll make them squeak. If gentle means don’t do, then we’ll just throw in another ingredient or two: an axe, or a wild cat, or a firebrand.”
“Take care what you are about, if you deal with Agellius,” said Juba. “He’s a sawney, but you must not drive him to bay. Don’t threaten; keep to the other line; he’s weak-hearted.”
“Only as a background to bring out the painting; the Muse singing, all in light, relieved by sardix or sepia. It must come; but perhaps Agellius will come first.”
It was indeed as Jucundus had hinted; a new policy, a new era was coming upon Christianity, together with the new emperor. Christians had hitherto been for the most part the objects of popular fury rather than of imperial jealousy. Nero, indeed, from his very love of cruelty, had taken pleasure in torturing them: but statesmen and philosophers, though at times perplexed and inconsistent, yet on the whole had despised them; and the superstition of priests and people, with their “Christianos ad leones,” had been the most formidable enemy of the faith. Accordingly, atrocious as the persecution had been at times, it had been conducted on no plan,
