At the Mercy of TiberiusEvans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
History
At the Mercy of Tiberius
Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane)
Rome -- History -- Tiberius, 14-37 -- Fiction
"Believe it not. Primeval gloom, raw realism so weigh upon our
apathetic souls, that we rub our eyes and stare at sight of your
aesthetic catechism: 'Harmony, but no system; instinct, but no logic;
eternal growth and no maturity; everlasting movement, and nothing
attained; infinite possibilities of everything; the becoming all
things, the being nothing.' We have too much Philistine honesty to
pretend that we understand that, but like other ambitious parrots we
can commit to memory. One of your seers tells us that: 'Renaissance art
will make our lives like what seems one of the loveliest things in
nature, the iridescent film on the face of stagnant water!' Now it will
require at least a decade, to train us to appreciate the subtile
symphonies of ditch slime. An English friend compassionating my
American stupidity, essayed to initiate me in the cult of 'culture',
and gave me a leaf to study, from the latter-day gospel. I learned it
after a time, as I did the multiplication table. 'Culture steps in, and
points out the grossness of untempered belief. It tells us the beauty
of picturesque untruth; the grotesqueness of unmannerly conviction;
truth and error have kissed each other in a sweet, serener sphere; this
becomes that, and that is something else. The harmonious, the suave,
the well bred waft the bright particular being into a peculiar and
reserved parterre of paradise, where bloom at once the graces of
Panthism, the simplicity of Deism, and the pathos of Catholicism; where
he can sip elegances and spiritualities from flowerets of every faith!'
Fancy my crass ignorance, when I assure you that I actually laughed
over that verbal syllabub, thinking it intended as a famous bit of
satire."
"Then it is pathetically true that reverence for the Renaissance has
not crossed the Atlantic?" asked one of the "Albatross" party, who with
his sketch book half open, was surreptitiously making an
"impressionist" view of Leo's profile, as she stood listening to Alma's
persiflage, and mechanically arranging her lilac acanthus blossoms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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