there that we see Livia most as we have been used to
do, and where are forcibly brought to our minds the hours passed by us
so instructively in the gardens of Zenobia. Often Aurelian is of our
company, and throws the light of his strong intellect upon whatever
subject it is we discuss. He cannot, however, on such occasions,
thoroughly tame to the tone of gentle society, his imperious and almost
rude nature. The peasant of Pannonia will sometimes break through, and
usurp the place of emperor; but it is only for a moment; for it is
pleasing to note how the presence of Livia quickly restores him to
himself; when, with more grace than one would look for, he acknowledges
his fault, ascribing it sportively to the fogs of the German marshes. It
amuses us to observe the power which the polished manners and courtly
ways of Livia exercise over Aurelian, whose ambition seems now as
violently bent upon subduing the world by the displays of taste, grace,
and magnificence, as it once was to do it--and is still indeed--by force
of arms. Having astonished mankind in one way, he would astonish them
again in quite another; and to this later task his whole nature is
consecrated with as entire a devotion as ever it was to the other. Livia
is in all these things his model and guide; and never did soldier learn
to catch, from the least motion or sign of the general, his will, than
does he, to the same end, study the countenance and the voice of the
Empress. Yet is there, as you will believe knowing the character of
Aurelian as well as you do, nothing mean nor servile in this. He is ever
himself, and beneath this transparent surface, artificially assumed, you
behold, feature for feature, the lineaments of the fierce soldier
glaring forth in all their native wildness and ferocity. Yet we are
happy that there exists any charm potent enough to calm, but for hours
or days, a nature so stern and cruel as to cause perpetual fears for the
violences in which at any moment it may break out. The late slaughter in
the very streets of Rome, when the Coelian ran with the blood of
fifteen thousand Romans, butchered within sight of their own homes, with
the succeeding executions, naturally fill us with apprehensions for the
future. We call him generous, and magnanimous, and so he is, compared
with former tyrants who have polluted the throne--Tiberius, Commodus, or
Maximin; but what title has he to that praise, when tried by the
standard which our own reason