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A PRIVATE TRIAL 253
into men. No one is
good without God. Pomponia's character
alone is sufficient to prove that there is nothing harmful
in her belief. To the God who is near us, to the sacred Spirit
who dwells with us, the observer and guardian of all our
evil and our good, she has been supremely true. The image
of the gods cannot be formed with gold and silver, or such
materials, but with the beauty and dignity of liumau souls.
God is best worshipped, not by sacrifices of bulls, but by innocence
and rectitude.
'And you, Aulus, you know what a wife Pomponia has
been to you, how chaste, how gentle, how faithful ! How
often have you found her quietly spinning wool among her
modest maidens, when other matrons are sitting at riotous
banquets, or gazing at dishonourable scenes! How wisely
and quietly has she managed your fortunes, and governed
your family How true and tender she was as a mother to
'
the little boy whose immature death you wept, whose ashes
are inurned in the tomb of your house How ! purely has she
trained your youthful Aulus To whom save to her does
!
he owe that beautiful mixture of manly courage and virginal
modesty which distinguishes him among the youth of Rome ?
And will you, at the word of a vile informer actuated by base
greed, and set on by female rancour will you desecrate the
shrine of your own household gods
? Will you dishonour the
fame of your ancestors ? Will you sever a union which has
been to you so fruitful of ?
blessings Remember how she
smiled on you on the day that you walked in proud ovation
with Csesar by your side ! Remember how she shared the
toils, the hardships, the anxieties of your campaigns in that
far-off Thule, which was subdued by your valour ! Remember
how by her sympathy she has diminished all your troubles,
and intensified all your joys And will you hand over such
!
a wife, and such a mother so gentle, so pure, so noble
to the fury of the executioner ? Will you see the sword flash
down upon a head which has often rested on your breast ?
Or will you coldly and sternly dismiss your innocent and
well-loved wife to end her days on some dreary island-rock,
arnid the storms of Adria or the Tyrrhene Sea ? Yours, O
Aulus, yours and not hers, will be the infamy ; yours, not
hers, will be the loss ! Not hers the shame for no informer,
and no unjust condemnation can fix a stain upon