Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
He had left the eating house in an evil humor, the bad omens made him
anxious, and though on his arrival at home he had done one or two things
which he already regretted, this had certainly not been due to any
adverse Daimons but to the brooding gloom of his clouded mind. Eternal
circumstances, it is true, had led to his being witness to an attack
made by the mob on the house of a wealthy Israelite, and it was
attributable to a vexatious accident that at this juncture, he should
have met Verus, who had observed and recognized him. Yes, the Spirits of
evil were abroad this day, but his subsequent experiences and deeds
upon reaching Lochias, would certainly not have taken place on any more
fortunate day, or, to be more exact, if he had been in a calmer frame of
mind; he himself alone was in fault, he alone, and no spiteful accident,
nor malicious and tricky Daimon. Hadrian, to be sure, attributed to
these sprites all that he had done, and so considered it irremediable;
an excellent way, no doubt, of exonerating oneself from a burdensome
duty, or from repairing some injustice, but conscience is a register in
which a mysterious hand inexorably enters every one of our deeds, and
in which all that we do is ruthlessly called by its true name. We often
succeed, it is true, in effacing the record for a longer or a shorter
period, but often, again, the letters on the page shine with an uncanny
light, and force the inward eye to see them and to heed them.
On this particular night Hadrian felt himself compelled to read the
catalogue of his actions and among them he found many a sanguinary
crime, many a petty action unworthy of a far meaner soul than he; still
the record commemorated many duties strictly fulfilled, much honest
work, an unceasing struggle towards high aims, and an unwearied effort
to feel his way intellectually, to the most remote and exalted limits
possible to the human mind and comprehension.
In this hour Hadrian thought of none but his evil deeds, and vowed to
the gods--whom he mocked at with his philosophical friends, and to whom
he nevertheless addressed himself whenever he felt the insufficiency of
his own strength and means--to build a temple here, to offer a sacrifice
there, in order to expiate old crimes and divert their malice. He
felt like a great man must who is threatened with the disfavor of his
superiors, and who hopes to propitiate them with gifts. The haughty
Roman quailed at the thought of unknown dangers, but he was far from
feeling the wholesome pangs of repentance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account