that were not woven by his wife, his sister, his daughters, or his
nieces. His sister Octavia was celebrated for her beauty and her
virtues. When her husband, Mark Antony, deserted her for the sake of
Cleopatra, she went to Athens to meet him, in hopes of withdrawing
him from this disgraceful amour; but she was secretly rebuked, and
entirely banished from his presence. Augustus highly resented this
affront to a beloved sister, but she gently endeavored to pacify
him, and made all possible excuses for Antony. When she heard of
her husband’s death, she took all his children into her house, and
treated them with the utmost tenderness. She gave Virgil ten thousand
sesterces for every line of his encomium upon her excellent and darling
son Marcellus. The poet was requested to repeat these verses in the
presence of Augustus and his sister. Octavia burst into tears as soon
as he began; but when he mentioned _Tu Marcellus eris_, she swooned
away. She was supposed to have died of melancholy, occasioned by her
son’s death. Augustus himself pronounced her funeral oration, and the
Roman people evinced their respect for her character by wishing to pay
her divine honors.
Agrippina, the granddaughter of Augustus, was a model of purity in the
midst of surrounding corruption. She accompanied her husband Germanicus
into Germany, shared in all his toils and dangers, and attached
herself to him with the most devoted affection. She often appeared at
the head of the troops, appeasing tumults, and encouraging bravery.
Tiberius, jealous of virtues that reflected so much dishonor on his own
licentious court, entered into machinations against them. Germanicus
was poisoned, and Agrippina exiled and treated with the utmost
indignity. Despairing of redress, she refused all sustenance, and died.
Arria, the wife of Pætus, not being allowed to accompany her husband to
Rome, when he was carried thither to be tried for conspiracy against
the government, followed the vessel in a fisherman’s bark hired for the
occasion. She exerted every means to save his life; and when she found
all her efforts unavailing, she advised him to avoid the disgrace and
torture that awaited him, by voluntary death. Seeing that he hesitated,
she plunged the dagger into her own heart, and gave it to him with a
smile, saying, “It gives me no pain, my Pætus.” In judging of these
examples, we must remember that the Romans, in their sternness and
stoicism, regarded suicide as a virtue.
Eponina, the wife of Sabinus, lived with her husband concealed in a
cave, for several years, rather than desert him at a time of disgrace
and danger, the consequence of unsuccessful rebellion. Their retreat
was at length discovered; and neither her tears, nor the innocent
beauty of two little twins born in the cavern, could soften the heart
of Vespasian. The faithful wife was condemned to die with her husband.
Valerius Maximus tells of an illustrious lady, whose mother being
condemned to die by famine, the daughter obtained access to her prison,
and nourished her with her own milk. When this was discovered, the
criminal was pardoned; both mother and daughter were maintained at
the public expense; and a temple to Filial Piety was erected near the
prison.
Pliny, who lived as late as the time of Trajan, warmly eulogizes the
talents and domestic virtues of his wife. He says: “Her taste for
literature is inspired by tenderness for me. When I am to speak in
public, she places herself as near me as possible, under the cover of
her veil, and listens with delight to the praises bestowed upon me. She
sings my verses, and untaught adapts them to the lute; love is her only
instructer.”
Under the emperors, it was more easy to find women distinguished for
talent than for virtue. Julia, the wife of Septimus Severus, was
famous for her genius and learning, and for the generous patronage she
bestowed on literature. Julia Mammæa, the mother of Alexander Severus,
had a mind equally cultivated, with far greater purity of character
than her namesake. She educated her son for the throne in a manner
so judicious, that his integrity, virtue, and firmness might have
effectually checked the tide of corruption, had he not met with an
untimely fate.
As learning became fashionable, many acquired it merely for display.
Juvenal, speaking of pedantic ladies, says: “They fall on the praises
of Virgil, and weigh his merits in the same balance with Homer; they
find excuses for Dido’s having stabbed herself, and determine of the
beautiful and the sovereign good.”
The Roman women seem to have been less iron-hearted than the Spartans.
When the Romans were defeated by Hannibal, women waited at the gates of
the city, for news of the returning army. One, who had given up her son
for dead, died at the sight of him; and another, having been told that
her son was slain, died when the report was contradicted.
The Roman women strongly resembled the Spartans in the deep and active
interest they took in public affairs. Upon the death of Brutus, they
all clad themselves in deep mourning. In the time of Brennus, they gave
all their golden ornaments to ransom the city from the Gauls. In reward
for this generosity, the senate ordained that they should be allowed to
ride in chariots at the public games, and that funeral orations should
thenceforth be pronounced for them, as well as for distinguished men.
After the fatal battle of Cannæ, the women again consecrated all
their ornaments to the service of the state. But when the triumvirs
attempted to tax them for the expenses of carrying on a civil war,
they tried various means to resist the innovation. At last, they chose
Hortensia for their speaker, and went in a body to the market-place,
to expostulate with the magistrates. The triumvirs, offended at
their boldness, wished to drive them away; but the populace grew so
tumultuous, that it was deemed prudent to give the women a hearing.
Hortensia spoke as follows: “The unhappy women you see here pleading
for justice, would never have presumed to appear in this place, had
they not first made use of all other means their natural modesty could
suggest. Yet the loss of our fathers, brothers, husbands, and children,
may sufficiently excuse us; especially when their unhappy deaths are
made a pretence for our further misfortunes. You say they had offended
you--but what have we women done, that we must be impoverished? Empire,
dignities, and honors are not for us; why then should we contribute
to a war, in which we can have no manner of interest? Our mothers did
indeed assist the republic in the hour of her utmost need; but they
were not constrained to sell their houses and lands for that purpose;
theirs was the voluntary offering of generosity. If the Gauls or the
Parthians were encamped on the banks of the Tiber, you would find us
no less zealous in the defence of our country than our mothers were
before us; but we are resolved that we will not be connected with civil
war. Neither Marius, nor Cæsar, nor Pompey, nor even Sylla himself,
who first set up tyranny in Rome, ever thought of compelling us to
take part in domestic troubles. Yet you assume the glorious title of
reformers of the state! a title which will turn to your eternal infamy,
if, without the least regard to the laws of equity, you persist in
plundering the lives and fortunes of those who have given you no just
cause of offence.”
In consequence of this spirited and eloquent speech, the number of
women taxed was reduced from fourteen hundred to four hundred.
When the deification of emperors and heroes became fashionable at Rome,
women soon had their statues placed in the temples, and incense burned
before them; and these honors, instead of being the reward of virtue,
were often bestowed merely to please the corrupt and the powerful.
Poppæa, the wife of Nero, a most thoroughly vicious woman, had divine
honors paid to her after death; the emperor himself pronounced her
eulogium in the rostrum; and more perfumes were burned at her funeral,
than Arabia Felix produced in a year.
Messalina, the profligate wife of Claudius, governed the emperor
without control. She appeared with him in the senate, placed herself by
him on the same tribunal in all public ceremonies, gave audience with
him to princes and ambassadors, and did not even abandon him in the
courts of justice.
Heliogabalus made his mother and grandmother his colleagues on the
throne, and placed them at the head of a female senate, which he
instituted to regulate all matters of dress and fashion; this, however,
lasted but a short time. Extravagance, both in dress and style of
living, went on increasing to such a degree that the details are
almost incredible. During the Carthagenian war, when Rome was in great
distress, an effort was made to check the growth of this evil, by a
law, which ordained that no woman should wear more than half an ounce
of gold, have party-colored garments, or be carried to any place within
a mile’s distance, unless it was to celebrate some sacred festivals or
solemnities. This created much discontent; and eighteen years after,
the ladies petitioned to have it repealed. Cato strongly opposed it,
and satirized the women for appearing in public to solicit votes; but
the tribune Valerius, who presented the petition, urged their cause so
eloquently, that the law was abrogated.
When the Greek custom was introduced of reclining full length upon
their couches, while they ate their meals, the ladies for a long time
continued to sit upon benches, because they considered the new mode
inconsistent with modesty; but during the reign of the emperors, they
began to imitate the men in this particular. In the early ages they
were forbidden the use of wine; their relations were allowed to salute
them, as they entered the house, in order to discover whether they
had drunk it; and in that case their husbands or parents had a right
to punish them. But in later times, they indulged themselves without
restraint. Seneca says: “Women pique themselves upon carrying excess in
wine as far as the most robust men; like them they pass whole nights at
table, and holding a cup filled to the brim, they glory in defying, and
even in surpassing them.”
The Romans were in the habit of drinking their crowns; that is to say,
the wine in which they had been dipped. Cleopatra, perceiving that
Antony was jealous she had designs upon his life, diverted herself with
his precautions. At one of their splendid feasts she wore upon her head
a crown of flowers, the extremities of which had been poisoned. Antony,
being invited to drink the crowns, readily consented; but Cleopatra
snatched the cup from his lips, saying, “The garland was poisoned. If I
could live without you, I could easily find means for your destruction.”
A love for exciting amusements kept pace with other forms of
dissipation. Women, not content with music and dancing, and the
entertainments of the theatre, began to delight in horse-races, and
the contests of wild beasts and gladiators, during which scenes of
cruelty occurred too shocking to be described. Sometimes they fought
on the arena with men, at the command of the despotic emperors. The
celebration of the Bacchanalian mysteries, in which women took an
active part, were a continuation of the most indecent and horrid
crimes. In many instances they danced on the stage entirely without
clothing, and enjoyed the luxury of public baths promiscuously with the
men, totally disregarding the modest regulations of former times.
Roman husbands, from the earliest times, had the power of divorcing
their wives whenever they pleased; and afterward the laws were
equalized to such a degree, that either party had liberty to demand
divorce. If the wife was blameless, she received all her dowry and
goods; if culpable, the husband was allowed to retain a sixth part for
each child; if she had been unfaithful to him, he kept all the dowry
and marriage-presents, even if he had no children by her. Where there
was a family, each of the parties settled a proportionable part of
their fortune.
Notwithstanding the facility of divorce, five hundred and twenty-one
years elapsed without an instance of it in Rome. Carvilius Ruga was
the first one who repudiated his wife. He had great affection for
her, and parted from her merely because she brought him no children.
Notwithstanding this excuse, the Roman citizens were very indignant at
the proceeding. But divorces gradually became frequent, and were made
upon the slightest pretexts. When Paulus Æmilius repudiated Papiria,
his friends said to him, “Is she not wise? Is she not fair? Is she
not the mother of fine children?” In reply, he pointed to his shoe,
and said, “Is it not fine? Is it not well made? Yet none of you know
where it pinches me.” Sulpicius Gallus turned away his wife because
she appeared bare-headed in public. Sempronius Sophus separated from
his, because she had whispered to a freed-woman. Antistius Vetus did
the same because his wife went to some public place of amusement
without his knowledge. Cicero separated from Terentia on account of
her extravagance and imperious temper; he espoused Publilia, a young
heiress, who had been his ward; but he repudiated her for harsh
treatment to his daughter Tullia. Cato gave up his wife Martia, by whom
he had had several children, that Hortensius might marry her; and when
some time after Hortensius died, and left her to inherit his great
wealth, to the prejudice of his own son, Cato retook her. Some men
married women of tarnished reputation, on purpose to find opportunity
to divorce them and retain their dowry.
Polygamy was at no period allowed; and even a plurality of mistresses
was prohibited. Mark Antony gave great offence to the Romans by living
with Cleopatra during the lifetime of Octavia.
Papirius was accustomed to attend his father to the senate before he
assumed the manly robe; and his mother one day inquired what had been
debated there. The lad replied, a decree had been passed that every
man should be allowed to have two wives. The news spread rapidly;
and the next day many women presented themselves to demand that every
woman might be allowed two husbands. The senators, surprised at such a
strange proposition, did not know how to account for it, until young
Papirius explained the mystery. They commended his prudence in thus
evading female curiosity, and ordained that no young person, himself
excepted, should attend the debates of the senate.
As corruption increased, the women made as bad use of divorce as the
men. Seneca says there were some who no longer reckoned the years by
the consuls, but by the number of their husbands. St. Jerome speaks
with indignation of a man in his time who had buried twenty wives, and
of a woman who had buried twenty-two husbands. When Severus ascended
the throne, he found no less than three thousand prosecutions against
faithless wives. Women of the highest rank unblushingly proclaimed
their own licentiousness, and laughed at the appearance of modesty.
A long train of cruel and disgusting crimes followed this utter
abandonment of principle. At one time there was a general conspiracy
to murder all husbands, in order that the last appearance of restraint
might be thrown aside. Voluptas had a temple, and was worshipped as a
beautiful woman, seated on a throne, and treading virtue beneath her
feet.
Augustus, perceiving that facility of divorce, far from tending to
promote happiness, only increased discontent, endeavored to restrain
it by penalties. He likewise made the laws more severe with regard to
infidelity. The father of a faithless wife might put her to death; and
if the husband killed her and her gallant, he was not punished by the
laws. Fines and banishment were likewise frequently resorted to.
The highest possible encouragement was given to matrimony. When the
people were numbered, the censors asked each citizen, “Upon your faith,
have you a wife?” and those who had none were subject to a fine. In the
tribunals, those who came to make oath were asked, “Upon your faith,
have you a horse? Have you a wife?” and unless they could answer these
questions in the affirmative, they were not allowed to give testimony.
Those who lived in celibacy could not succeed to an inheritance,
or legacy, except of their nearest relations, unless they married
within one hundred days after the death of the testator. Married men
were preferred to all public employments; and the prescribed age was
dispensed with in their favor, by taking off as many years as they had
legitimate children. They had distinguished places at the theatre and
the games, were exempted from guardianships, and other burthensome
offices.
But when the condition of the people required laws like these, it was
useless to make them. Mere external rewards are as feeble a barrier
against the tumult of the passions, as a bar of sand against a rushing
stream. The Roman knights loudly demanded that the edicts should be
revoked; and many, to avoid the penalties, went through the form of
marriage with mere infants. Augustus, to prevent this fraud, forbade
any one to contract a girl that was not at least ten years old, that
the wedding might be celebrated two years after. Metellus, the censor,
said to the people, “If it were possible for us to do without wives, we
should escape a very great evil; but it is ordained that we cannot live
very happily either with them or without them.”
Such was the diseased state of society, when Christianity came in with
its blessed influence, to purify the manners, and give the soul its
proper empire over the senses. Many women of the noblest and wealthiest
families, surrounded by the seductive allurements of worldly pleasure,
renounced them all, for the sake of the strength and consolation they
found in the words of Jesus. Undismayed by severe edicts against the
new religion, they appeared before the magistrates, and by pronouncing
the simple words, “I am a Christian,” calmly resigned themselves to
imprisonment, ignominy, and death. Taught by the maxims of the Gospel
that it was a duty to love and comfort each other, as members of the
same family, they devoted their lives to the relief of the sick, the
aged, and the destitute. Beautiful ladies, accustomed to all the
luxurious appendages of wealth, might be seen in the huts of poverty,
and the cells of disease, performing in the kindest manner the duties
of a careful nurse.
In the worst stages of human society, there will ever be seven thousand
of Israel who do not bow the knee to Baal; and such a remnant existed
in Rome. The graceful form of heathen mythology had some degree of
protecting life within it, so long as it was sincerely reverenced;
but the vital spark, that at best had glimmered but faintly, was
now entirely extinguished, and the beautiful form was crumbling in
corruption and decay. The heart, oppressed with a sense of weakness and
destitution, called upon the understanding for aid, and received only
the lonely echo of its own wants. At such a moment, Christianity was
embraced with fervor; and the soul, enraptured with glimpses of its
heavenly home, forgot that the narrow pathway lay amid worldly duties,
and worldly temptations.
The relation of the sexes to each other had become so gross in
its manifested forms, that it was difficult to perceive the pure
conservative principle in its inward essence. Hence, though marriage
was sanctioned, and solemnized by the most sacred forms, it was
regarded as a necessary concession to human weakness, and perpetual
celibacy was considered a sublime virtue. This feeling gave rise to the
retirement of the cloister, and to solitary hermitages in the midst
of the desert. St. Jerome is perhaps the most eloquent advocate of
this ideal purity. His writings are full of eulogiums upon Paula, her
daughter Eustochium, and other Roman women, who embraced Christianity,
and spent whole days and nights in the study of the Scriptures.
Women were peculiarly susceptible to the influence of doctrines whose
very essence is gentleness and love. Among the Jews, the number of
believing women had been greater than converted men; the same was
true of the Romans; and it is an undoubted fact that most nations were
brought into Christianity by the influence of a believing queen. By
such means the light of the Gospel gradually spread through France,
England, part of Germany, Bavaria, Hungary, Bohemia, Lithuania, Poland,
and Russia.
* * * * *
The northern nations bore a general resemblance to each other. War and
hunting were considered the only honorable occupations for men, and all
other employments were left to women and slaves. Even the Visigoths, on
the coasts of Spain, left their fields and flocks to the care of women.
They had annual meetings, in which those who had shown most skill and
industry in agriculture, received public applause. They were bound by
law not to give a wife more than the tenth part of their substance.
The Scandinavian women often accompanied the men in plundering
excursions, and had all the drudgery to perform. The wives of the
ancient Franks were inseparable from their husbands. They lived
with them in the camp, where the marriages of their daughters were
celebrated by the soldiers, with Scythian, and other warlike dances. A
man was allowed but one wife, and was rigorously punished if he left
her to marry another.
They could put their wives to death for infidelity; and if they
happened to kill them without justifiable cause, in a moment of anger,
the law punished them only by a temporary prohibition to bear arms.
The ancient German women could not inherit the estates of their
fathers; but by subsequent laws they were permitted to succeed after
males of the same degree of kindred.
Women of the northern nations rarely ate and drank with their husbands,
but waited upon them at their meals, and afterward shared what was
left, with the children. This custom could not have originated in the
habit of regarding women as inferior beings; for the whole history of
the north proves the existence of an entirely opposite sentiment. It
was probably owing, in part, to the circumstance that women were too
busy in cooking the food, to wish to eat at the same time with the
men; and partly, perhaps, to the fact that these feasts were generally
drunken carousals.
The eastern nations imagine the joys of heaven to consist principally
in voluptuous love; but northern tribes seem to have believed that they
chiefly consisted in drinking. In the Koran, the dying hero is assured
that a troop of _houries_, beautiful as the day, will welcome him with
kisses, and lead him to fragrant bowers; but according to the Edda,[2]
a crowd of lovely maidens wait on heroes in the halls of Odin, to fill
their cups as fast as they can empty them.
[2] The sacred book of the Scandinavians.