ry as they possessed, while the
ancient idol was borne through it in procession, arrayed in gaudy
attire the worse for wear. Numerous religious clubs had their stated
anniversaries, on which the members issued with much ceremony from
their guild-hall, or schola, and traversed the thoroughfares of Rome,
preceded, like the confraternities of the present day, by their sacred
banners, to offer sacrifice before some famous image. Black with the
perpetual smoke of lamps and incense, oftenest old and [186] ugly,
perhaps on that account the more likely to listen to the desires of the
suffering--had not those sacred effigies sometimes given sensible
tokens that they were aware? The image of the Fortune of
Women--Fortuna Muliebris, in the Latin Way, had spoken (not once only)
and declared; Bene me, Matronae! vidistis riteque dedicastis! The
Apollo of Cumae had wept during three whole nights and days. The
images in the temple of Juno Sospita had been seen to sweat. Nay!
there was blood--divine blood--in the hearts of some of them: the
images in the Grove of Feronia had sweated blood!

From one and all Cornelius had turned away: like the "atheist" of whom
Apuleius tells he had never once raised hand to lip in passing image or
sanctuary, and had parted from Marius finally when the latter
determined to enter the crowded doorway of a temple, on their return
into the Forum, below the Palatine hill, where the mothers were
pressing in, with a multitude of every sort of children, to touch the
lightning-struck image of the wolf-nurse of Romulus--so tender to
little ones!--just discernible in its dark shrine, amid a blaze of
lights. Marius gazed after his companion of the day, as he mounted the
steps to his lodging, singing to himself, as it seemed. Marius failed
precisely to catch the words.

And, as the rich, fresh evening came on, there was heard all over Rome,
far above a whisper, [187] the whole town seeming hushed to catch it
distinctly, the lively, reckless call to "play," from the sons and
daughters of foolishness, to those in whom their life was still
green--Donec virenti canities abest!--Donec virenti canities abest!+
Marius could hardly doubt how Cornelius would have taken the call. And
as for himself, slight as was the burden of positive moral obligation
with which he had entered Rome, it was to no wasteful and vagrant
affections, such as these, that his Epicureanism had committed him.

NOTES

187. +Horace, Odes I.ix