CHAPTER X.
UBI FELICITAS?
"Push, my dear Domitia, Push. Of course. What else would you have, butPush?"
"But, sweetest mother, that surely cannot give what I ask."
"Indeed, my child, it does. It occupies all one's energies, it exerts allone's faculties, and it fills the heart."
"But--what do you gain?"
"Gain, child?--everything. The satisfaction of having got further up theladder; of exciting the envy of your late companions, the admiration ofthe vulgar, the mistrust of those above you."
"Is that worth having?"
"Of course it is. It is--that very thing you desire, Happiness. It engagesall your thoughts, stimulates your abilities. You dress for it; youprepare your table for it, accumulate servants for it, walk, smile, talk,acquire furniture, statuary, bronzes, and so on--for it. It is charming,ravishing. I live for it. I desire nothing better."
"But I do, mother. I do not care for this."
The girl spoke with her eyes on a painting on the wall of the atrium thatrepresented a young maiden running in pursuit of a butterfly. Beneath itwere the words "Ubi Felicitas?"
"Because you are young and silly, Domitia. When older and wiser, you willunderstand the value of Push, and appreciate Position. My dear, properlyconsidered, everything can be made use of for the purpose--even widowhood,dexterously dealt with, becomes a vehicle for Push. It really is vexatiousthat in Rome there should just now be such broils and effervescence ofminds, proclamation of emperors, cutting of throats, that I, poor thing,here in Gabii run a chance of being forgotten. It is too provoking. Ireally wish that this upsetting of Nero, and setting up of Galba, anddefection of Otho, and so on, had been postponed till my year of widowhoodwere at an end. One gets no chance, and it might have been _so_effective."
"And when you have obtained that at which you have aimed?"
"Then make that the start for another push."
"And if you fail?"
"Then, my dear, you have the gratification of being able to lay the blameon some one else. You have done your utmost."
"When you have gained what you aimed at, you are not content."
"That is just the beauty of Push. No, always go on to what is beyond."
"Look at that running girl, mother, she chases a butterfly, and when shehas caught the lovely insect she crushes it in her hand. The glory of itswings is gone, its life is at an end. What then?"
"She runs after another butterfly."
"And despises and rejects each to which she has attained?"
"Certainly!"
After a pause Longa Duilia said, as she signed to Lucilla the slave to fanher, "That was the one defect in your dear father's character, he had noPush."
"Mother! can you say that after his splendid victories, over the Chauci,over the Parthians, over----"
"I know all about them. They should have served as means, child, not asends."
"I do not understand."
"Poor simple man, he fought the enemies of Rome and defeated them, becauseit was, as he said, his duty to his country, to Rome, to do so. But, byOps and Portumna! that was talking like a child. What might he not havebeen with those victories? But he couldn't see it. He had it not in him.Some men are born to squint; some have club feet; and your poor dearfather had no ambition."
After a pause the lady added: "When I come to consider what he might havedone for me, had he possessed Push, it makes my spleen swell. Justconsider! What is Galba compared with him? What any of these fellows whohave been popping up their heads like carp or trout when the May flies areabout? My dear, had your dear father been as complete a man as I am awoman, at this moment I might be Empress."
"That would have contented you."
"It would have been a step in that direction."
"What more could you desire?"
"Why, to be a goddess. Did not the Senate pronounce Poppaea divine, and tobe worshipped and invoked, after Nero had kicked her and she died? Andthat baby of his--it died of fits in teething--that became a goddess also.Nasty little thing! I saw it, it did nothing but dribble and squall, butis a god for all that. My dear Domitia, think! the Divine Duilia! SalusItaliae, with my temples, my altars, my statues. By the Immortal Twelve, Ithink I should have tried to cut out Aphrodite, and have been representedrising from the foam. Oh! it would have been too, too lovely. But there!it makes me mad--all that _might_ have been, and _would_ have been to acertainty, had your dear father listened to me at Antioch. But he had ahead." She touched her brow. "Something wrong there--no Push."
"But, dearest mother, this may be an approved motive for such as you andfor all nobles. But then--for the artisan, the herdsman, the slave, Pushcan't be a principle of life to such as they."
"My child, how odd you are! What need we consider them? They may havetheir own motives, I can't tell; I never was a herdsman nor a slave--neverdid any useful work in my life. As to a slave, of course Push is amotive--he pushes to gain his freedom."
"And when he has got that?"
"Then he strives to accumulate a fortune."
"And then?"
"Then he will have a statue or a bust of himself sculptured, and when hegets old, erect a splendid mausoleum."
"And so all ends in a handful of dust."
"Of course. What else would you have?--Remember, a splendid mausoleum."
"Yes, enclosing a pot of ashes. That picture teaches a sad truth. Pursueyour butterfly: when you have caught it, you find only dust between yourfingers."
"Domitia! as the Gods love me! I wish you would refrain from this talk. Itis objectionable. It is prematurely oldening you, and what ages youreflects on me--it advances my years. I will listen to no more of this. Ifyou relish it, I do not; go, chatter to the Philosopher Claudius Senecio,he is paid to talk this stuff."
"I will not speak to him. I know beforehand what he will say."
"He will give you excellent advice, he is hired to do it."
"O yes--to bear everything with equanimity. That is the sum and substanceof his doctrine. Then not to be too wise about the Gods; to aim to sit onthe fulcrum of a see-saw, when I prefer an end of the plank."
"Equanimity! I desire it with my whole soul."
"But why so, mother? It is not running thought, but stagnation."
"Because, my dear, it keeps off wrinkles."
"Mother, you and I will never understand each other."
"As the Gods love me, I sincerely hope not. Send me Plancus, Lucilla. Imust scold him so as to soothe my ruffled spirits."
"And, Euphrosyne, go, send the Chaldaean to me in the garden," said thegirl.
The slave obeyed and departed.
"Ubi Felicitas? Running, pursuing and finding nothing," said Domitia asshe went forth.
The sun was hot. She passed under an arched trellis with vines trainedover it; the swelling bunches hung down within.
At intervals in the arcade were openings through which could be seen thestill lake, and beyond the beautiful ridges of the limestone SabineMountains. The air was musical with the hum of bees.
Domitia paced up and down this walk for some while.
Presently the Magus appeared at the end, under the guidance of the girlEuphrosyne.
He approached, bowing at intervals, till he reached Domitia, when he stoodstill.
"Ubi Felicitas?" asked she. And when he raised his eyebrows in question,she added in explanation: "There is a picture in the atrium representing adamsel in pursuit of a butterfly, and beneath is the legend I have justquoted. When she catches the butterfly it will not content her. It will bea dead pinch of dust. It is now some months since you spoke on theArtemis, when I asked you a question, and then you were forced to admitthat all your science was built up on conjecture, and that there was nocertainty underlying it. But a guess is better than nothing, and a guessthat carries the moral sense with it in approval, may come near to thetruth. I recall all you then said. Do not repeat it, but answer myque
stion, _Ubi Felicitas?_ I asked it of my mother, and she said that itwas to be found in Push. If I asked Senecio, he would say in Equanimity.Where say you that it is to be found?"
"The soul of man is a ray out of the Godhead," answered the Magus, "it isenveloped, depressed, smothered by matter; and the straining of the spiritin man after happiness is the striving of his divine nature to emancipateitself from the thraldom of matter and return to Him from whom the rayemanated."
"Then felicity is to be found--?"
"In the disengagement of the good in man from matter, which presses itdown, and which is evil."
"Evil!" exclaimed Domitia, looking through one of the gaps in the arcade,at the lake; on a balustrade above the water stood a dreaming peacock,whilst below it grew bright flowers. Beyond, as clouds, hung the blueSabine hills.
"The Divine ray," said the girl, "seems rarely to delight in itsincorporation in Matter, and to find therein its expression, much as doour thoughts in words. May it not be that Primordial Idea is inarticulatewithout Matter in which to utter itself?"
"Felicity," continued the Chaldaean, disregarding the objection, "is soughtby many in the satisfying of their animal appetites, in pleasing eye andear and taste and smell. But in all is found the after-taste of satietythat gluts. True happiness is to be sought in teaching the mind todispense with sensuous delights, and to live in absorption in itself."
"Why, Elymas!" said Domitia. "In fine, you arrive by another method atthat Apathy which Senecio the Stoic advocates. I grant you give areason--which seems to me lame--but it is a reason, whereas he suppliesnone. But I like not your goal--Apathy is the reverse from Felicity. Leaveme."
The Magus retired, mortified at his doctrine being so ill received.
Then Euphrosyne approached timidly.
Domitia, who was in moody thought, looked up. The girl could not ventureto speak till invited to do so by her mistress.
"Your lady mother has desired me to announce to you that Lucius AEliusLamia hath ridden over from Rome."
"I will come presently," said Domitia; "I am just now too troubled inmind. You, child, tell me, where is the physician, Luke?"
"Lady, I do not know; he quitted us on reaching Rome."
"Stay, Euphrosyne. Thine is a cheerful spirit. Where is felicity to befound?"
"My gracious mistress, I find mine in serving thee--in my duty."
"Ah, child! That is the sort of reply my father might have made. In thedischarge of what he considered his duty, he was of a wondrous sweet andequable temper. Is it so, that Felicity is only to be found in thedischarge of duty? And those torpid flies, the young loafers of our noblefamilies, whose only occupation is to play ball, and whose amusements arevicious; they have it not because none has set them tasks. The ploughmanwhistles as he drives his team; the vineyard rings with laughter at thegathering of the grapes. The galley-slaves chant as they bend over theoar, and the herdboy pipes as he tends the goats. So each is set a task,and is content in discharge thereof, and each sleeps sweetly at night,when the task is done. But what! is happiness reserved to the bondsman,and not for the master? And only then for the former when the duty imposedis reasonable and honest?--For there is none when such an order comes as tofall on the sword or to open the veins. How about us great ladies? And thenoble loafers? No task is set us and them."
"Surely, lady, to all God has given duties!"
"Nay--when, where, how? Look at me, Euphrosyne. When I was a little childhere, we had a neighbor, Lentulus. He was a lie-abed, and a sot. He lethis servants do as they liked, make love, quarrel, fight, the one lord itover the other, and all idle, because on none was imposed any duty. It wasa villainous household, and the estate went to the hammer. It seems to me,Euphrosyne, as if this whole world were the estate of Lentulus on a largescale, where all the servants squabbled, and one by sheer force tyrannizesover the others, and none know why they are placed there, and what istheir master's will, and what they have to do. There is no day-table ofwork. There is either no master over such a household, or he is anOlympian Lentulus."
"But, mistress, is that not impossible?"
"It would seem so, and yet--Where is the Day-Table? Show me that--and, bythe Gods! it will be new life to me. I shall know my duty--and seeHappiness."