Though The Unwilling Vestal fails to present some of its scenes with realistic effect, because of the lack of a sufficient number of characters of different kinds, its author does portray some very interesting things in Roman life, through the medium of a single interesting character and a very real one. Mr. T. Everett Harré had given a vivid picture of life in Roman Alexandria, while presenting only one important character, in Behold the Woman, (1916), two years before; but the character of Mary, while intensely human, is not intended to show especially “modern” traits of character. Brinnaria in The Unwilling Vestal, is made to seem in some ways more familiar to the modern reader, and more like his modern acquaintances, than any other single character in any novel of Roman life, written before Mr. White’s book. Besides being an interesting novel, The Unwilling Vestal is so accurate in its description of Roman life and custom that it could be used as a schoolbook of great value. Finally, the so-called “modern scientific touch” is given in the crucial scene of the story, in which Brinnaria exonerates herself by carrying water in a sieve,—something which the author had seen done in a series of accurate experiments. The Unwilling Vestal is original in style, and does not seem to depend on previous novels of Roman life in any way. Its omission of any mention of the Christians, makes it easier for the author to portray truthfully the life of Pagan Rome.

In The Unwilling Vestal, (1918), Mr. White had told many interesting things about Roman life, but in limiting himself to a single important character, whose experiences are narrated in the third person, he sometimes had failed to make the reader feel a share in the life of Rome, as an eye-witness of the scene, or even a participant in it. Such a realistic effect he actually attained in Andivius Hedulio, Adventures of a Roman Nobleman in the Days of the Empire, (1921). This improvement he brought about in part by introducing a large number of characters from all ranks and conditions of Roman society, thus “presenting, in a narrative fiction, a complete and faithful depiction of all the phases, high and low, of that life which made up the grandeur which was Rome.”[33] And most of the numerous characters are made just as familiar to the reader as Brinnaria had been made in The Unwilling Vestal. But this is not the only means taken by the author to make his novel realistic; and the realistic effect is made complete by the fact that the adventures of Hedulio are narrated in the first person by a character who has the entire sympathy of the reader. While not a great believer in newspaper reviews, I am willing to admit there is some justice in the high praise made by “G. W. D.” in The Evening Public Ledger, Philadelphia. After comparing Andivius Hedulio to Salammbo, he says of Mr. White’s novel, “The history is so subtly interwoven with the narrative, that it becomes an integral part of it. The attention of the reader is concentrated on the human relations and the characters are men and women kin with the men and women of the present century. Mr. White has made the past live as if it were the present. Or to put it another way, he has abolished time, and has exhibited to us the unchanging human emotions playing upon one another in Rome of the second century, just as they play upon one another in America of the twentieth century. He has not once yielded to the temptation to display his eruditions at the expense of the story, a temptation to which so many learned men succumb when they try to write historical fiction. They succumb because they lack the instinct of the story teller, and do not realize that a novel must be a human drama first, whatever else it may be, whether a study of manners or of morals or a picture of the world in a historical epoch.... There is nothing that people are more interested in than in other people.”

Any adverse criticism of Andivius Hedulio would most naturally be directed against the somewhat loose construction of its plot. The plot of the novel imagines the young Roman nobleman wrongly suspected of conspiring against the life of the Emperor Commodus. Fleeing for his life, he passes eleven years in various disguises, never getting very far from Italy and returning again and again to Rome, through one chance or another. As the author says in his Note to the Reader, “The plot ... has a general resemblance to the ancient Milesian tales; as, for instance, that on a version of which Shakespeare based his Comedy of Errors. More definitely it is affiliated with the plot of the Metamorphoses of Apuleius... Much of the plot shows derivation from romances of the Picaresco type, or approaching that type... The atmosphere of the adventures collectively is indubitably that of the Satiricon of Petronius, along with much from the Metamorphoses of Apuleius.” Much of the plot, says Mr. White, came from his assuming that there was a fashionable litter-craze at Rome, “a fad of wealthy fops for journeying by litter instead of by travelling coach... Much of the minor incident and local color derives from my saturating myself with what survives to us of Roman roadbooks.” In a sense Andivius Hedulio is a romance of the road. In reading the novel, I was much impressed by the author’s genuine delight in strange, unexpected, but not improbable adventures, and was reminded much of certain aspects of the romances of Robert Louis Stevenson; it was no surprise to discover later that I had overlooked its dedication “To Robert Louis Stevenson, who in reading fiction loved ‘The open road and the bright eyes of danger.’” Moreover Mr. White, like Stevenson, realized that the best way to tell a story, especially a story of adventure, is to tell “one thing after another.” This is the way it was done by the authors of the Milesians, of the Metamorphoses, and of the “picaresque” romances. Such works have their place in the line of ancestry of the modern novel, and the author is entirely justified in using them,—somewhat expurgated,—since often they portray life in a very realistic way. It cannot be said that Andivius Hedulio excels such great novels as Ben Hur and Darkness and Dawn, in portraying the life of the Roman world with realistic effect. But the author’s genius, in making the experiences of characters of the Roman world seem essentially like our own experiences, and those of our friends, makes this novel excel most other novels of Roman life in this respect.

Andivius Hedulio is the work of a scholarly teacher of Latin, who wished to throw a strong light on the life of the historical period of Commodus’ reign; and especially to present Commodus in the character of “the most perfect athlete the world ever produced, misplaced on earth’s greatest throne.” Mr. White’s novel is in no sense a school-history book, such as Mr. Davis’s A Friend of Caesar; but any school-boy could read it with pleasure, and learn from its sound scholarship, much, that would aid him in his classical studies. Commodus is the most important historical figure, and, as the author says, the part he plays in the novel is due in part to what is said of him in the work of Gibbon, Dio Cassius, and Herodian. While other sources mentioned by Mr. White in his Note to the Reader, show a wide reading and a thoroughness of scholarship, the novel itself is sufficient evidence of this, and is entirely free from slavish copying. He frankly admits that the culminating incident in the chariot races originated partly from certain details in the chariot race in Ben Hur, (1880). But this incident is given a peculiar originality, by the addition of details taken from the account given to Mr. White of a “run-away” accident, which actually occurred in Baltimore. This illumination of the past, by placing in a story of the past an incident which has recently occurred, often aids a novelist in attaining realistic effect, and illustrates one of the ways Mr. White has taken to make the past seem real to present-day readers. The labyrinth motive appears in Andivius Hedulio, when the hero and his faithful servant make their escape from a secret stair, and through a long, dark and filthy drain. This incident was suggested by the escape of Jean Valjean in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables, and Baring-Gould may have taken a similar incident in Perpetua from the same source.

Commodus’ joy in driving his horses to victory in the chariot races and in displaying his skill in the amphitheatre, is well portrayed by the author; but perhaps the greatest stroke in the portrayal of Commodus, is made, not when he is governing horses, or overcoming single opponents, animal or human, in the arena, but when he is controlling the minds and passions of the army of mutineers. While Commodus is not the technical hero of the story, he is the real hero of the novel, and in a fine character-study he is represented as the man who really controlled the Roman world, whether addressing soldiers and courtiers, or impressing the populace by his skill in the arena. But besides presenting life at the court of Commodus and in the higher social circles at Rome, with which the Emperor was definitely connected, the novel takes one through the streets of Rome and into different quarters of the city, in such a way as to illustrate the life of all classes of Roman society; and presents with fairness most of the various types of human character, which were to be found in the city of Rome itself and in various parts of the Empire. Since the Christians were comparatively few in number, even as late as the time of Commodus, (and the life of Rome was still essentially pagan), the author wisely refrains from any attempt to give them a place in his story. He says of Andivius Hedulio, “Especially I judged it free from vital anachronisms. I know of no fiction dealing with Rome or Greece which does not project-back later ideas of duty, right and wrong, morality and such like ethical concepts, into periods far anteceding those in which these conceptions developed. The Greeks and Romans had very definite notions as to personal morals, decency, duty, and the like, but many of the ideas most prevalent among us originated since Roman times and were then non-existent and inconceivable.” It would be beside the mark to cry “paganism,” against Mr. White’s Andivius Hedulio, since paganism is exactly what he wished to portray. In some respects this novel excels any other previously discussed, in its portrayal not only of the outward life, but of the social and ethical atmosphere of pagan Rome. And its teacher-author has been eminently successful in showing, to school-boy and mature reader alike, “all the phases, high and low, of that life which made up the grandeur which was Rome.”

H. NOVELS WRITTEN BY AUTHORS WHO HAVE PORTRAYED ROMAN LIFE FROM AN ESTHETIC VIEWPOINT

Walter Pater’s Marius the Epicurean appeared in 1885. While Pater was a tutor at Oxford, Marius the Epicurean is so far removed from being a school-book, that it was impossible to consider it in the class of novels written by teachers to illustrate Roman life or a certain period of Roman history in a pedagogical way. In fact Pater’s work is so different from most novels of Roman life, and has a literary value so much higher than most novels of any kind, that it is best considered in a class by itself. Nothing has ever been written exactly like Marius the Epicurean, which ranks above Pater’s other literary productions, fine as they are, and furnishes his principal contribution to posterity. It was indeed written for posterity, and not intended to be read as an interesting novel and then forgotten. Marius the Epicurean is the finest piece of pure literature that will be considered in this study. Moreover it cannot escape consideration as a novel of Roman life. Its full title is Marius the Epicurean, His Sensations and Ideas. Its hero is a Roman boy, who advances in years, until he arrives at mature manhood, and whose death is recorded at the end of the story. “It would probably have been called a novel had its chief claim and merit not been independent of fiction.”[34] In following the development of Marius, Pater is showing what might have happened to a young man in the Rome of Marcus Aurelius, if he were possessed of a particularly fine esthetic sense, and devoted his life to an esthetic ideal. There is sufficient binding material in the form of narrative to make Marius the Epicurean rather a novel than a series of essays, though it contains fine studies of the physical and spiritual life of Rome. Such novels of Roman life as George Gissing’s Veranilda, (1904), and Mr. Eden Phillpotts’ Pan and the Twins, (1922), have derived much inspiration from both the substance and quality of Pater’s work. Such a thorough classical scholar and ardent lover of the classics as Lionel Johnson could say of its exactness, in Post Liminium: “Readers, accustomed by long experience to use Marius for a text-book,—exact, precise, rigorous, well warranted and attested,—of the Antonine age, do not need to be told that Mr. Pater never writes without his facts and evidences.”[35]

Pater’s aim in Marius the Epicurean had something in common with the aim of some of the best novels of Roman life, that have been considered, however unique his method may have been. He purposes to show a young man in an age similar to our own, and one who exhibited “a sort of religious phase possible for the modern mind.” Marius is like Pater in his serious and refined nature, and his esthetic delight in religious ceremonial, but represents better Pater’s ideal. Though he is taught to believe in the outworn system of paganism, he takes delight only in the most beautiful elements in pagan religious ceremonials. In his quest of the fine and the beautiful in religious emotion, he is led to higher and higher forms of philosophy, each step in his development being minutely described by Pater, not with the accompaniment of abstract philosophizing, but with the desire to portray in simple terms the beauty of esthetic experience. At each step toward a higher intellectual existence Marius approaches the ideal of a Christian life; his soul is said to be “naturally Christian,” and he admires elements of beauty in the thought and life of a Christian comrade. Finally by a mere accident, he dies a Christian. Marius the Epicurean simply portrays the life of Rome, as it appeared to a young Roman who lived only to seek the highest good in esthetic experience. It clearly shows that life governed by an esthetic ideal, could and did exist in the days of Marcus Aurelius, just as it can and does exist today.

In Marius the Epicurean, Pater, as the author, shows himself to be more a true Hellenist than any writer appears to be in any novel of Roman life written before Pater’s work,—though his truly Greek appreciation of the beautiful is in no way inconsistent with Christianity. But the book portrays not merely the beauty of Greek philosophy. Viewed as a portrayal of life, Marius the Epicurean may be fairly said to portray essentially the entire course of the religious life of Rome,—starting with the primitive and patriarchal “religion of Numa,” and passing through later forms, (whether wholly Roman or including foreign elements); and further on through the abstractions of Greek philosophy, to the highest form of Christianity. The social and moral phenomena to be seen at Rome in the times of Marcus Aurelius, are shown, and the part which great schools of Greek philosophy played in the life of Rome, is made to appear important.

While no great character portrayals are attempted in Marius the Epicurean, Marius is made to meet with such great characters as the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, Apuleius, and Lucian. Marcus Aurelius is portrayed in a very modern light as a public lecturer, through whose example Marius determines to become a student of rhetoric at Rome; yet to Marius he seemed to be, (as he actually was), the greatest thinker and the greatest man of his time. In his representation of the character of Faustina, who is seen surrounded by her children, including the supposedly illegitimate Commodus, Pater may owe something to Swinburne’s poem, Faustine. Roman customs are well represented, when we see people performing sacrifices or going to the theatre to celebrate a holiday; and the life of Rome is made to seem real by minute descriptive touches, such as those which describe the evidences of the ravages of the great pestilence. Roman shops, inns, temples, and other buildings appear crowded with people, and a multitude of human types are shown, as soldiers, courtesans, beggars and little children. Some description is also made of a Roman marriage ceremony; and the mythological burlesques and gladiatorial contests of the amphitheatre are described as affecting different individuals in different ways. In the death of Verus appears something of the spirit which made the Romans turn such a matter into a public event; the great Galen, making his way through the throng to the side of the sufferer, is a figure which is familiar elsewhere in the novel of Roman life.

But the most characteristic scenes taken from the outward life of the Romans’ are the banquet and the Triumph of Marcus Aurelius. Pater adds to the reality of these Roman scenes by portraying not only the characteristics of men, but also those of children, and even animals. Thus in the triumphal procession go “the ibex, the wild-cat, and the reindeer stalking and trumpeting grandly.” Though scenes of the martyrdom of the Christians only appear as told at second-hand, a characteristic Roman brutality is shown by the guards in charge of Christian prisoners. Thus the material life of Rome, as well as its religious life, is portrayed in Marius the Epicurean. What Pater did for the novel of Roman life was to show the possibility of portraying not merely the material existence of the Romans, but the whole life of Rome considered from a religious and esthetic standpoint. Marius the Epicurean has been said to stand without fiction; but the highest hope of any fiction might well be to rise to the level of Pater’s work. It took five or six years to write, and shows Pater’s thorough scholarship, and his appreciation of the beautiful in Latin and Greek literature. Mr. Edward Hutton sums up its excellence when he says that, “In Marius the Epicurean, Pater gave us a book profound and simple, bounded by the great refusals of an artist, perfect in prose, stooping to nothing, having the dignity of a great poem, and the thoughtfulness that is characteristic of the writers of the Augustan age.”

George Gissing in Veranilda, (1904), seems to be the first author of a novel of Roman life to derive much inspiration from Pater’s Marius the Epicurean, (1885). Gissing resembles Pater in his exact scholarship, his love of Greek things, and his estheticism. Veranilda was to have in it the love of the classics, but is unfinished. Yet it is evident that only a few chapters at the end are missing, and what we have of Veranilda is finished with Gissing’s finest and most delicate touches. The late Mr. Frederic Harrison says of Gissing in the preface to Veranilda, that in this novel, “his poetical gift for local color, his subtle insight into spiritual mysticism and, above all, his really fine scholarship and classical learning had ample field.” Mr. Harrison considers Veranilda “far the most important book which George Gissing ever produced,” and most readers of Gissing will concur in this opinion. Though the subject-matter of Veranilda is somewhat different from that of Marius the Epicurean, there is much similarity between the two books in the way subjects are presented, and at times Gissing’s purity of style approaches that of Pater. In many respects Veranilda is the greatest novel of its kind. Not only does it show thoroughness and accuracy in scholarship, but it has very genuine characterization and atmosphere. The spirit of Veranilda is the spirit of the time it describes,—the spirit of disillusion, unrest, and uncertainty amid scenes of strife, sorrow, and decay. Yet there are gleams of hope to be found in Gissing’s great novel, which portrays life in and near Rome in the “Era of Justinian.” While the outward, physical life of fallen Rome is portrayed accurately, as it would appear to the eye, the special excellence of Veranilda lies in its exact reproduction of the spirit of the time with which it deals. In this respect it probably excels any other historical novel in English,—bar none,—and deserves a high position as pure literature. Moreover in his portrayal of life in the past, Gissing has not failed to establish its connection with life of the present; realistic effect is never lacking in Veranilda. Yet even when portraying life in the most general terms, Gissing continually shows the same selection and preference for the esthetic, the same search for the beautiful, which marks the work of Walter Pater in Marius the Epicurean.

The plan of Veranilda is more complete than that of most historical novels; it deals chiefly with real historical characters and actual historical events, yet there is not too much formal history in the novel. It was carefully written after a most thorough study of the best modern writers, (especially Gibbon), who deal with the age of Justinian and Belisarius, and of the remains of the literature of the time. The scene is Rome and Central and Southern Italy, and local color is obtained not at second-hand, but from the author’s direct observation of the places he describes, and a careful review of extant documents concerning them. Gissing had spent some time travelling in Italy and Veranilda may be considered his most original novel. In selecting the scene and the time of Veranilda, Gissing evidently intended to write a novel which should convey a sense of Rome’s former greatness. The center and source of power of the Roman Empire had shifted to Constantinople, though even here the power of Rome was none too strong. Felix Dahn’s two novels, A Struggle for Rome, (1876), and The Scarlet Banner, (1894), deal with the same period with which Veranilda deals; The Scarlet Banner being concerned with the overthrow of the Vandal king, Gelimer, by Belisarius. A Struggle for Rome, is like Veranilda in its subject matter, since it is concerned with the struggle between the Ostrogoths and Belisarius, and mentions some of the same characters that appear in Veranilda. The characterization of Totila, the Gothic king, especially suggests Veranilda. But while A Struggle for Rome is Dahn’s greatest novel, it does not appear that Gissing was so much indebted to it in Veranilda, as to original historical sources. The period with which Veranilda deals comes somewhat after the true end of Pagan Rome, and no novel will be discussed which deals with a later period.

Gissing preserves a fine unity of effect in making the events of his story center about Rome, and not about Constantinople. “The Eternal City” lies there as of old, and its inhabitants cannot shake off the feeling that it still is “eternal.” The wise Justinian is to them a foreign tyrant, under whose governor they are harshly oppressed. The great commander Belisarius, though he has temporarily defeated the Goths, has now left Italy, and is no longer thought of as deliverer of Rome; the fame of Totila is spreading. Throughout this book, with its descriptions of ruined towns, ruined families, and the ruins of the City of Rome itself, one feels the former greatness of Rome. Everywhere is decay, everywhere is to be seen a dying out of the best elements of Roman civilization. Many of the scenes which form the setting for the principal action in the story, are typical of this lingering death of the great city. While everywhere the old Rome is dying out, is there springing up anything new to take its place? Even though the novel is incomplete, one can see that the author means to show conclusively that the Goths will furnish new life, and new strength, to Rome and to civilization.

In Hypatia, Kingsley had portrayed “the dying world” of Rome, especially in the chapter headed by that phrase. In Marius the Epicurean, Pater had pointed out the coming downfall of Rome in several different ways. He had said, for example, that the Germanic tribes, whom Marcus Aurelius defeated, were merely the advance guard of a vast body of wandering tribes destined to overrun the Roman world. Marcus Aurelius in his triumph over the Germans, appeared to Marius, “chiefly as one who had made the great mistake,” as a man who had failed. “The most Christian” Stoic Emperor, in pursuing his thoroughly Roman policy of enforcing worship of the gods with an iron hand at Rome, and ruthlessly subjugating peoples on the frontiers of the Empire, had failed to save Rome from becoming more and more a nation of “coarse, vulgar people,” an Empire that failed. In Veranilda we see the impressive remains of that great failure. Its psychology, like that of most of Gissing’s work, is the psychology of failure. As the decayed condition of his old home appears to be symbolic of failure to Marius, near the end of Marius the Epicurean, so all through Veranilda the decay of material things seems to symbolize the downfall and death of “Eternal Rome.” Yet the gleams of hope, which appear through the gloom, are symbolic of a new life. While no such large contrast is made in Veranilda, as is made in Hypatia, the hope of Christianity in a failing world is made very real.

Aside from the scene depicting the murder at the villa, there are few sensational scenes in Veranilda. Moreover, in most of the scenes of importance, it is noticeable that only a limited number of people appear. The greater part of the novel is pitched in a minor key. There are countless incidents of importance, whisperings, doubts, uncertainties; trivial words often have a hidden meaning, trifling actions assume great importance. The remains of Rome’s grandeur are suggested in the character of Flavius Anicius Maximus, a worthy descendant of an ancient and noble family; and his sister Petronilla serves to keep before our minds something of the uncompromising pride of any descendant of an old Roman family. A similar pride appears in the characters of the Deacon Leander and Vigilius. But more fitting messengers of God are the holy Abbott Benedict and his monks. The scenes about the monastery are drawn with a masterful touch; one feels the genuine influence for good, which the holy Abbott has over Basil, and the real help which he gives to Basil, in the difficulty with which Basil is confronted. St. Benedict appears as a man who leads a genuinely spiritual life, with insight enough to solve all of Basil’s difficulties.

Veranilda herself is a truly radiant figure, and it is in justice that the novel is named for her. She does not often appear upon the scene, it is true, but the sincerity of her character and her overwhelming loveliness are drawn with convincing strokes. Her innocence at all times, especially when in Marcian’s power, and her faith in those into whose care she is entrusted, are points of strength in her character, not of weakness; and she proves herself truly great in her forgiveness of Basil. In his delineation of character especially, Gissing has at times equalled the exquisite touches of Pater. How little is told of St. Benedict or of Veranilda, yet how definitely their characters are impressed upon the reader! Veranilda is beyond question, the character who best represents beauty of body and soul, in the novel of Roman life, and, I believe, surpasses Pater’s Marius in representing a “soul naturally Christian.” In any case, one feels that in Veranilda, as in Marius the Epicurean, there always exists the esthetic conception of an inseparable connection between physical and spiritual beauty. Gissing followed Pater in showing that the life of Rome could be portrayed as being far from entirely physical and material; and he showed more definitely than Pater, that Roman life could be presented in the form of a novel, with realistic effect, yet with the exercise of a discriminating selection of the finer elements of subject matter, and in a style delicately fitted to portray these finer elements.

A review of esthetic elements to be found in the novel of Roman life would not be complete without some consideration of two recent novels by Mr. Eden Phillpotts, Evander, (1919), and Pan and the Twins, (1922). Mr. Phillpotts has shown his appreciation for classic art in The Joy of Youth, while another of his novels, The River, shows his love for the beautiful in nature. Mr. George Moore says, “Morality is but a dream, but beauty is real;” his novel, The Brook Kerith, is not considered here as a novel of Roman life, but in it the author often harks back to the beautiful pagan world. There is something of this in the two novels of Roman life written by Mr. Phillpotts. As has been said, George Ebers had written, A Question; The Idyl of a Picture by His Friend Alma Tadema, (1881), which presents the beauties of pastoral life in semi-mythological classic times in pre-historic Sicily, and suggests Evander in subject matter. In Marius the Epicurean, Pater had said, “Farm life in Italy, including the culture of the olive and the vine, has a grace of its own, and might well contribute to the production of an ideal dignity of character, like that of nature itself in this gifted region. Vulgarity seemed impossible.” The ideal beauty of a simple, outdoor life, centering in the farmer’s hut, appears in Evander, a novel which portrays life in prehistoric Italy and abounds in beautiful pastoral description. In its portrayal of life, Evander shows somewhat the same discriminating selection of esthetic elements to be seen in Marius the Epicurean. and Veranilda; but unlike the work of Pater or Gissing, Evander has a rich and picturesque humor. Here, in Mr. Phillpotts’ novel, is optimism in contrast to the detachment of Pater, and Gissing’s somewhat continuous pessimism. Mr. Phillpott’s light, humorous, cheerful style in Evander, makes the novel rank far below Marius the Epicurean and Veranilda as a work of art, and is a concession to popular taste; yet it has a virtue of its own. Many readers, who would find Marius the Epicurean too serious, could read Evander with pleasure and profit.

Evander portrays life in Italy when marriage was just coming into fashion; it is really a satire of the “triangle” of the ordinary man, the genius, and the woman who does not know her own mind. But it truthfully represents the beginnings of things most characteristically Roman; especially the Roman ideals of the home, the community, and finally law, ideals which sprang from the simple, austere, agricultural life of the prehistoric Romans. The author is right in representing as real to these primitive Romans, “nymphs, goat-foot fauns and other immortal creatures of lake and mountain, vale and forest, who spied upon humanity with wonder when the world was young.” Among other gods, Pan, under the Latin name of Faunus, appears to a mortal woman, in Evander, as he had done in Mr. James Stephens’ novel, The Crock of Gold; and the humorous, delicately satiric style of Evander at times suggests Mr. Stephen’s work. In portraying life “when the world was young,” the author of Evander seems to ask, “Why should it grow old?” And in portraying ancient pagan life as a satire on modern life, he does not fail to show that the ideals and aspirations of man have changed but little.

Pan and the Twins, (1922), as its title suggests, makes a similar use of the god Pan, and is a novel written in a style similar to that of Evander. It differs from Mr. Phillpotts’ other novel of Roman life in including historical material. Not very much history is brought into Pan and the Twins, but when historical events are mentioned, they are made vividly significant, and are rightly interpreted. The scene is laid chiefly on a country estate near Rome, and in the time of Valentinian, though other Roman Emperors are mentioned. Even more than Evander, Pan and the Twins suggests Mr. James Stephens’ The Crock of Gold, but is a better constructed novel and a finer piece of art. The satire of Pan and the Twins is delicate but very pointed at times, as when Theodosius convinces the Christian bishop that it is not his duty to the State to have Arcadius burned alive. Its humor is equally delicate, but no one could fail to laugh at the spectacle of one of the Emperor’s favorite bears, which escapes from its cage at the amphitheatre and becomes very much worried that “malefactors” are no longer provided as its daily food.[36]

While its philosophy is at times “sugar-coated,” Pan and the Twins offers a very strong plea for sanity in religion and life, and suggests that they are one and the same thing. Moreover, in its portrayal of life, it distinctly seeks for elements of beauty. With a few delicate touches, the author presents in his heroine a figure of ideal physical and spiritual beauty, not unlike Gissing’s Veranilda in conception. In portraying Roman life, coarser elements are kept in the background. One is made to feel the existence of the horrors of the amphitheatre, the inconsistencies of the Church, and much of the varied life of Rome. Roman customs, as, for example, the marriage ceremony, are correctly described. But in the foreground of the picture appear always scenes amid the sunlight and pure air of the Roman country landscape. Pan and the Twins is not a great novel, but one that contains much beautiful writing. The scenes which it portrays are selected chiefly for their esthetic appeal, but are real, none the less; not inconsistent with life, past or present. It is not necessarily either “pagan” or Christian; but seems to undertake to show that beauty cannot be defined entirely in terms of morality, Christianity, or paganism. Pan and the Twins ranks far below such a consummate piece of art as Marius the Epicurean, but successfully presents the esthetic, in terms more readily appreciated by the popular taste.