be things of the past (in the
West), would have sounded just as ridiculous, probably, as such a
prophesy concerning Europe and its culture would have sounded in
a London drawing-room fifteen years ago. There were signs and
portents, of course, for the thoughtful; and no doubt some few
Matthew Arnolds in their degree to be troubled by them. And of
course (as in our own day, but perhaps rather more), an idea with
cranks that at any moment Doomsday might come. But while the
world endured, and the Last Trump had not sounded, of course the
Roman empire would stand.--Christianity? Well, yes; it had
grown very strong; and the extremists among the Christians were
rabid enough against culture of any sort. But there were also
Christians who, while they hated the olden culture of Paganism,
were ambitious to supply a Christian literature in prose and
verse to take the place of the Classical. There had been an
awful devastation of Gaul; the barbarians of the north had been,
now and again, uneasy and troublesome; but see how Julian--even
he, with the Grace of God all against him--had chastised them!
The head of the Roman State would always be the Master of the
World.

And strangely enough, this was an idea that persisted for
centuries; facts with all their mordant logic were impotent to
kill it. Hardly in Dante's time did men guess that the Roman
empire and its civilization were gone.

Life, when Julian died, was still capable of being a very
graceful and dignified affair,--outwardly, at any rate. On their
great estates in Gaul, in Britain, in Italy, great and polished
gentlemen still enjoyed their _otium cum dignitate._ The culture
of the great past still maintained itself amongst them; although
thought and all mental vigor were buried deep under the detritus.
In fourth century Gaul there was quite a little literary
renaissance; centering, as you might expect, in the parts
furthest from German invasion. Its leading light was born in
Bordeaux in the three-thirties; and was thus (to link things up
a little) a younger contemporary of the Indian Samudragupta. He
was Ausonius: teacher of rhetoric, tutor to the prince Gratian,
consul, country gentleman, large land-owner, and, in a studious
uninspired reflective way, a goodish poet. Also a convert to
Christianity, but unenthusiastic:--altogether, a dignified and
polished figure; such as you might find in England now, in the
country squire who has held important offices i