Chapter 9

It was the fifth anniversary of that resolution of the senate fathers
to consecrate the altar of Peace. Pilgrims thronged the city, and some
had journeyed far. Tens of thousands surrounded the great monument,
immense and beautiful beyond any in the knowledge of men. It
signalized a remarkable state of things--the world was at peace. More
than seven centuries before that day an idea had entered the heart of a
prophet; now it was in the very heart of the world. This heap of
marble, under pagan gods, had given it grand, if only partial,
expression. There was no symbol of war in the long procession of its
upper frieze, and its lower was like a sculptured song of peace wrought
in fruits and bees and birds and blossoms. Here was a mighty plant
flowering twice a year and giving its seed to the four winds. Every
July and January its erection was celebrated in the imperial republic.

Vergilius stood beside the emperor that day when, at the Ars Pacis
Augustas, he addressed the people.

"I have been reading," he said, "the words of a certain dreamer of
Judea, who, in the olden time, wrote of a day when swords should be
beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning-hooks, and when peace
should reign among the nations of the earth. Well, give me an army for
a hundred years, good people, and then I may voice the will of the gods
that iron be used no more to plough its way in living flesh, but only
to turn the furrow and to prune the tree. Meanwhile, believe me, every
man must learn to love honor and virtue, and to respect his neighbor,
and the gods above all."

A hundred years! The playful emperor knew not how quickly a man passes
and how slowly, how exceeding slowly, moves the great procession of
mankind. But so it befell; the very right hand of Jupiter had helped
in the sowing of that seed which, as it grew, was to lift the
foundations of his power.

Vergilius left the scene with Augustus. They rode away in the royal
litter.

"In all the great cities men are speaking to-day of the value of peace
and honor," said the subtle emperor--a sceptic in religion, a cynic in
philosophy, a rake in private life, and a conqueror who commanded
"peace" with a trained army of four hundred and fifty thousand men.

"It is a great thing to do," said the young knight.

"Give me men enough to say it, and if they grow not weary I will bring
the world to believe that the sun is only the breast-plate of Jupiter,"
said Augustus. "Honor and peace are good things--do not forget that,
my young friend. Give the words to your tongue, not flippantly, but
with a sober eye, and often, my brave knight--often. You leave
to-morrow--have you made