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diff --git a/old/62254-0.txt b/old/62254-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f2cea32..0000000 --- a/old/62254-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16864 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fabiola, by Nicholas Wiseman - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Fabiola - The Church of the Catacombs - -Author: Nicholas Wiseman - -Illustrator: Yan Dargent - Joseph Blanc - -Release Date: May 28, 2020 [EBook #62254] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FABIOLA *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif, Veronica Brandt, Karina -Aleksandrova and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team -at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - [Illustration: St. Agnes, Virgin and Martyr. - - Published by Benziger Brothers, New York, Cincinnati and St. Louis.] - - [Illustration: F A B I O L A - - OR - - The Church - - OF - - The Catacombs, - - By Cardinal Wiseman.] - - - - - FABIOLA; - - OR, - - THE CHURCH OF THE CATACOMBS, - - _By His Eminence Cardinal Wiseman._ - - - HÆC, SUB ALTARI SITA SEMPITERNO, - LAPSIBUS NOSTRIS VENIAM PRECATUR - TURBA, QUAM SERVAT PROCERUM CREATRIX PURPUREORUM. - _Prudentius._ - - HERE, BENEATH THE ETERNAL ALTAR, - LIES THAT THRONG OF ILLUSTRIOUS MARTYRS, - WHO ASK PARDON FOR OUR SINS, - AND OVER WHOM THE CITY THAT GAVE THEM BIRTH WATCHES. - - A Historical Picture - - OF THE - - SUFFERINGS OF THE EARLY CHURCH - - IN PAGAN ROME, - - ILLUSTRATING THE - - Glories of the Christian Martyrs - - as exemplified in the lives of - - The fair young Virgin, St. Agnes; the heroic Soldier, St. Sebastian; - the devoted Youth, St. Pancratius; etc., etc. - - ILLUSTRATED EDITION. - - _WITH A PREFACE BY_ - - REV. RICHARD BRENNAN, LL.D., - - Pastor of St. Rose of Lima’s Church, New York. - - NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, AND ST. LOUIS: - - BENZIGER BROTHERS, - - PRINTERS TO THE HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE. - 1886. - - COPYRIGHT, 1885, BY BENZIGER BROTHERS. - - Electrotyped by SMITH & McDOUGAL, New York. - - - - -PREFACE - -TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION. - - -The late Cardinal Wiseman’s admirable story, “Fabiola,” has been read -for the last thirty years in many lands and many tongues. At this late -day, to say that it has been everywhere productive of inestimable good -to Christian souls, would be the utterance of the merest truism. But -while its salutary influence has been felt far and wide, it seems to -have been fraught with special blessings most peculiarly adapted to the -religious circumstances of our own land; where, thirty years ago, when -the work made its first appearance among us, the condition of the Church -was not altogether dissimilar from that of the early Church in pagan -Rome at the date of the story. - -Although the sun of divine faith had long before begun to warm with its -vivifying and sanctifying rays the virgin soil of this western land of -ours, yet it had hardly risen above the horizon when dark and -threatening clouds of persecution seemed about to obscure its light, -promising, instead of a bright and cheerful day for the Church, a night -of disappointment and suffering. The good already accomplished by the -early missionaries seemed imperilled by the coming storm, and the work -at that time in progress was meeting with fierce and even cruel -opposition. Then it was that men asked themselves, was it necessary that -the founding of Christ’s Church in America should undergo a process -similar to that which it had undergone in pagan Rome. Although the -Catholics of America thirty years ago had little cause to fear the torch -or the axe of the executioner, though they could hardly hope for the -blood-stained crown of martyrdom in the public arena, though they heard -not the cry, “to the wild beasts with the Christians,” yet they dwelt -amid much religious privation, underwent keen mental persecution, and -were made the victims of rampant bigotry, furious political -partisanship, and humiliating social ostracism. Like the heroic -characters so graphically portrayed by the Cardinal’s graceful pen in -the history of Fabiola, the Catholics in America professed a faith -imperfectly known in the land, or known only to be despised and hated by -the great majority of the American people, just as that self-same faith -had been misrepresented, detested and persecuted in the early ages, by -the misguided citizens of pagan Rome. - -In such times, Catholics sorely needed the help of bright examples of -courage, zeal and perseverance, to beckon them on in the steady pursuit -of their arduous and sometimes perilous task of preserving, practising, -and declaring their faith. Such examples they found in Cardinal -Wiseman’s beautiful work, models of fidelity to faith, heroes and -heroines who in their patient lives and cruel deaths gave testimony unto -Christ Jesus, producing such fruits of virtue, and showing forth so -beautifully and so powerfully the effects of the true faith, that that -faith itself finally triumphed over all opposition; and verifying the -words of the Apostle, became a victory that conquered the world: “Haec -est victoria, quæ vincit mundum, fides nostra.” “This is the victory -which overcometh the world, our faith.” - -By the study of these models, as presented in the story of Fabiola, the -struggling Catholics of this country learned how to possess their souls -in patience. While admiring the heroic fortitude of those martyrs, -though not presuming always to imitate their extraordinary ways, our -predecessors in the faith felt themselves encouraged to follow in their -footsteps, bearing patiently all religious privations and adhering to -their faith amid hatred and contempt, and giving bold testimony of it -before unbelieving men. - -Inspired by the example of these primitive Christians, the priests and -people alike of the past generation were strengthened in the conviction -that in their poor despised Church, at that time remarkable for its -poverty and obscurity, there dwelt the eternal truth brought down to -earth from heaven by the Son of the living God, the truth which He had -confirmed by miracles and sealed with His precious life’s blood; the -truth in whose defence millions of the holiest and greatest men -sacrificed their very lives; the truth in whose possession the noblest -and most enlightened among the children of Adam had found peace in life -and consolation in death. For this truth, they were willing to die. - -How opportune, at that time, was the appearance in our midst of a work -from a master-hand, presenting to view in a most vivid and realistic -light the trials and triumphs of those heroes in the Church who raised -the cross of Christ, bedewed with martyr-blood, upon the dome of the -Roman Capitol! Like the cheering flambeau borne in the hands of the -acolyte of the Catacombs, the story of Fabiola served to brighten and -cheer the arduous path of many a despised if not persecuted Catholic, -amid the religious wilderness then to a great extent prevailing over our -broad land. - -But as the primitive Church emerged from her hiding-places, so, thank -God, has that same Church in our own country bounded forth from -obscurity and contempt into the broad light of day, where she stands -confessed in all her truth and beauty, at once the envy and admiration -of her recent opponents. - -While to-day, protestantism is an enemy that no Catholic need fear, a -new and more formidable foe confronts us in the shape of materialism. -The contest between truth and error is as fierce as ever, though the -tactics are changed. We should arm ourselves for the battle against -materialism as our fathers did against protestantism. We can win no -laurels in a war against protestantism, for it has been subdued by those -ahead of us in the ranks. Such laurels have been gathered by earlier and -worthier hands than ours. Nor are there places for us by the side of the -martyrs Pancratius, Sebastian, and other heroes of primitive -Christianity. Yet a great trust has descended to our hands, and sacred -obligations have devolved on the present generation of Catholics. There -remains to us a great duty of defence and preservation, and there lies -open before us a grand and glorious pursuit to which the religious needs -of the times loudly call us. We live in an age of sordid materialism, -when it is of vital importance to turn the thoughts of all Christians to -the really heroic ages of the Church, and to the lives of men and women -who have done honor to principle, glorified God and benefited their -fellow-beings by their holy and self-sacrificing lives. - -As the story of Fabiola taught our immediate predecessors in the faith -to admire and imitate the virtues of the primitive Christians, so should -we learn to cherish the names and memories of the devoted ones who, amid -hardships, privations and contempt, laid the solid foundations in this -land, of that stately and magnificent structure beneath whose hallowed -roof it is our happy lot to dwell unmolested in peace and prosperity. - -Therefore we gladly welcome this first illustrated edition of Cardinal -Wiseman’s “Fabiola.” Viewed in its improved mechanical aspect, it is -emblematic of the wondrous development of our Catholic literature, and -when contrasted with the simpler and humbler editions which we received -thirty years ago, seems like the stately cathedral that has taken the -place of the lowly wooden chapel of that period. Its many beautiful -engravings will bring more vividly before the reader the scenes of cruel -persecution already graphically described, and with its bright examples -of constancy and self-sacrifice serve to stimulate and fortify Catholics -of the present and future generations in their contest with worldliness, -materialism, and, we may say, unmitigated paganism. - - R. B. - -ST. ROSE’S RECTORY, All Saints’ Day, 1885. - - - - -PREFACE. - - -When the plan of the _Popular Catholic Library_ was formed, the author -of the following little work was consulted upon it. He not only approved -of the design, but ventured to suggest, among others, a series of tales -illustrative of the condition of the Church in different periods of her -past existence. One, for instance, might be called “The Church of the -Catacombs;” a second, “The Church of the Basilicas;” each comprising -three hundred years: a third would be on “The Church of the Cloister;” -and then, perhaps, a fourth might be added, called “The Church of the -Schools.” - -In proposing this sketch, he added,--perhaps the reader will find -indiscreetly,--that he felt half inclined to undertake the first, by way -of illustrating the proposed plan. He was taken at his word, and urged -strongly to begin the work. After some reflection, he consented; but -with an understanding, that it was not to be an occupation, but only the -recreation of leisure hours. With this condition, the work was commenced -early in this year; and it has been carried on entirely on that -principle. - -It has, therefore, been written at all sorts of times and in all sorts -of places; early and late, when no duty urged, in scraps and fragments -of time, when the body was too fatigued or the mind too worn for heavier -occupation; in the road-side inn, in the halt of travel, in strange -houses, in every variety of situation and circumstances--sometimes -trying ones. It has thus been composed bit by bit, in portions varying -from ten lines to half-a-dozen pages at most, and generally with few -books or resources at hand. But once begun, it has proved what it was -taken for,--a recreation, and often a solace and a sedative; from the -memories it has revived, the associations it has renewed, the scattered -and broken remnants of old studies and early readings which it has -combined, and by the familiarity which it has cherished with better -times and better things than surround us in our age. - -Why need the reader be told all this? For two reasons: - -First, this method of composition may possibly be reflected on the work; -and he may find it patchy and ill-assorted, or not well connected in its -parts. If so, this account will explain the cause. - -Secondly, he will thus be led not to expect a treatise or a learned work -even upon ecclesiastical antiquities. Nothing would have been easier -than to cast an air of erudition over this little book, and fill half of -each page with notes and references. But this was never the writer’s -idea. His desire was rather to make his reader familiar with the usages, -habits, condition, ideas, feeling, and spirit of the early ages of -Christianity. This required a certain acquaintance with places and -objects connected with the period, and some familiarity, more habitual -than learned, with the records of the time. For instance, such writings -as the Acts of primitive Martyrs should have been frequently read, so as -to leave impressions on the author’s mind, rather than have been -examined scientifically and critically for mere antiquarian purposes. -And so, such places or monuments as have to be explained should seem to -stand before the eye of the describer, from frequently and almost -casually seeing them, rather than have to be drawn from books. - -Another source of instruction has been freely used. Any one acquainted -with the Roman Breviary must have observed, that in the offices of -certain saints a peculiar style prevails, which presents the holy -persons commemorated in a distinct and characteristic form. This is not -the result so much of any continuous narrative, as of expressions put -into their mouths, or brief descriptions of events in their lives, -repeated often again and again, in antiphons, _responsoria_ to lessons, -and even versicles; till they put before us an individuality, a portrait -clear and definite of singular excellence. To this class belong the -offices of SS. Agnes, Agatha, Cæcilia, and Lucia; and those of St. -Clement and St. Martin. Each of these saints stands out before our minds -with distinct features; almost as if we had seen and known them. - -If, for instance, we take the first that we have named, we clearly draw -out the following circumstances. She is evidently pursued by some -heathen admirer, whose suit for her hand she repeatedly rejects. -Sometimes she tells him that he is forestalled by another, to whom she -is betrothed; sometimes she describes this object of her choice under -various images, representing him even as the object of homage to sun and -moon. On another occasion she describes the rich gifts, or the beautiful -garlands with which he has adorned her, and the chaste caresses by which -he has endeared himself to her. Then at last, as if more importunately -pressed, she rejects the love of perishable man, “the food of death,” -and triumphantly proclaims herself the spouse of Christ. Threats are -used; but she declares herself under the protection of an angel who will -shield her. - -This history is as plainly written by the fragments of her office, as a -word is by scattered letters brought, and joined together. But -throughout, one discerns another peculiarity, and a truly beautiful one -in her character. It is clearly represented to us, that the saint had -ever before her the unseen Object of her love, saw Him, heard Him, felt -Him, and entertained, and had returned, a real affection, such as hearts -on earth have for one another. She seems to walk in perpetual vision, -almost in ecstatic fruition, of her Spouse’s presence. He has actually -put a ring upon her finger, has transferred the blood from His own cheek -to hers, has crowned her with budding roses. Her eye is really upon Him, -with unerring gaze, and returned looks of gracious love. - -What writer that introduced the person would venture to alter the -character? Who would presume to attempt one at variance with it? Or who -would hope to draw a portrait more life-like and more exquisite than the -Church has done? For, putting aside all inquiry as to the genuineness of -the acts by which these passages are suggested; and still more waving -the question whether the hard critical spirit of a former age too -lightly rejected such ecclesiastical documents, as Guéranger thinks; it -is clear that the Church, in her office, intends to place before us a -certain type of high virtue embodied in the character of that saint. The -writer of the following pages considered himself therefore bound to -adhere to this view. - -Whether these objects have been attained, it is for the reader to judge. -At any rate, even looking at the amount of information to be expected -from a work in this form, and one intended for general reading, a -comparison between the subjects introduced, either formally or casually, -and those given in any elementary work, such as Fleury’s _Manners of the -Christians_, which embraces several centuries more, will show that as -much positive knowledge on the practices and belief of that early period -is here imparted, as it is usual to communicate in a more didactic form. - -At the same time, the reader must remember that this book is not -historical. It takes in but a period of a few months, extended in some -concluding chapters. It consists rather of a series of pictures than of -a narrative of events. Occurrences, therefore, of different epochs and -different countries have been condensed into a small space. Chronology -has been sacrificed to this purpose. The date of Dioclesian’s edict has -been anticipated by two months; the martyrdom of St. Agnes by a year; -the period of St. Sebastian, though uncertain, has been brought down -later. All that relates to Christian topography has been kept as -accurate as possible. A martyrdom has been transferred from Imola to -Fondi. - -[Illustration: The Bark of Peter, as found in the Catacombs.] - -It was necessary to introduce some view of the morals and opinions of -the Pagan world, as a contrast to those of Christians. But their worst -aspect has been carefully suppressed, as nothing could be admitted here -which the most sensitive Catholic eye would shrink from contemplating. -It is indeed earnestly desired that this little work, written solely for -recreation, be read also as a relaxation from graver pursuits; but that, -at the same time, the reader may rise from its perusal with a feeling -that his time has not been lost, nor his mind occupied with frivolous -ideas. Rather let it be hoped, that some admiration and love may be -inspired by it of those primitive times, which an over-excited interest -in later and more brilliant epochs of the Church is too apt to diminish -or obscure. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - PAGE - -PREFACE TO THE ILLUSTRATED EDITION iii - -AUTHOR’S PREFACE vii - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii - - -PART I. - -Peace. - -CHAP. - -I. THE CHRISTIAN HOUSE 19 - -II. THE MARTYR’S BOY 26 - -III. THE DEDICATION 32 - -IV. THE HEATHEN HOUSEHOLD 42 - -V. THE VISIT 58 - -VI. THE BANQUET 64 - -VII. POOR AND RICH 72 - -VIII. THE FIRST DAY’S CONCLUSION 82 - -IX. MEETINGS 88 - -X. OTHER MEETINGS 106 - -XI. A TALK WITH THE READER 119 - -XII. THE WOLF AND THE FOX 129 - -XIII. CHARITY 135 - -XIV. EXTREMES MEET 139 - -XV. CHARITY RETURNS 149 - -XVI. THE MONTH OF OCTOBER 154 - -XVII. THE CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY 170 - -XVIII. TEMPTATION 183 - -XIX. THE FALL 190 - - -PART II. - -Conflict. - -I. DIOGENES 205 - -II. THE CEMETERIES 219 - -III. WHAT DIOGENES COULD NOT TELL ABOUT THE CATACOMBS 239 - -IV. WHAT DIOGENES DID TELL ABOUT THE CATACOMBS 248 - -V. ABOVE GROUND 261 - -VI. DELIBERATIONS 265 - -VII. DARK DEATH 275 - -VIII. DARKER STILL 280 - -IX. THE FALSE BROTHER 285 - -X. THE ORDINATION IN DECEMBER 291 - -XI. THE VIRGINS 300 - -XII. THE NOMENTAN VILLA 308 - -XIII. THE EDICT 315 - -XIV. THE DISCOVERY 325 - -XV. EXPLANATIONS 330 - -XVI. THE WOLF IN THE FOLD 335 - -XVII. THE FIRST FLOWER 356 - -XVIII. RETRIBUTION 368 - -XIX. TWOFOLD REVENGE 381 - -XX. THE PUBLIC WORKS 390 - -XXI. THE PRISON 396 - -XXII. THE VIATICUM 403 - -XXIII. THE FIGHT 419 - -XXIV. THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER 431 - -XXV. THE RESCUE 437 - -XXVI. THE REVIVAL 448 - -XXVII. THE SECOND CROWN 457 - -XXVIII. THE CRITICAL DAY: ITS FIRST PART 464 - -XXIX. THE SAME DAY: ITS SECOND PART 473 - -XXX. THE SAME DAY: ITS THIRD PART 491 - -XXXI. DIONYSIUS, PRIEST AND PHYSICIAN 507 - -XXXII. THE SACRIFICE ACCEPTED 513 - -XXXIII. MIRIAM’S HISTORY 523 - -XXXIV. BRIGHT DEATH 532 - - -PART III - -Victory. - -I. THE STRANGER FROM THE EAST 549 - -II. THE STRANGER IN ROME 558 - -III. AND LAST 564 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. - - -FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS. - -CHROMOLITHOGRAPH OF ST. AGNES, VIRGIN AND MARTYR. FRONTISPIECE. - - -FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY YAN DARGENT. - - PAGE - -ORDINATION, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 33 - -THE SACRAMENT OF PENANCE, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 125 - -THE BLESSED EUCHARIST, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 337 - -CONFIRMATION, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 343 - -BAPTISM, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 539 - -ADMINISTERING THE SACRAMENT OF EXTREME UNCTION, IN THE EARLY -AGES OF THE CHURCH 545 - -A MARRIAGE, IN THE EARLY AGES OF THE CHURCH 553 - - -FROM ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BY JOSEPH BLANC. - -“WITH TREMBLING HANDS SHE DREW FROM HER NECK THE GOLDEN -CHAIN” 39 - -“FABIOLA GRASPED THE STYLE IN HER RIGHT HAND, AND MADE AN -ALMOST BLIND THRUST AT THE UNFLINCHING HANDMAID” 51 - -“HE WHO WATCHED WITH BEAMING EYE THE ALMS-COFFERS OF JERUSALEM, -AND NOTED THE WIDOW’S MITE, ALONE SAW DROPPED INTO THE -CHEST, BY THE BANDAGED ARM OF A FOREIGN FEMALE SLAVE, A -VALUABLE EMERALD RING” 55 - -“‘HARK!’ SAID PANCRATIUS, ‘THESE ARE THE TRUMPET-NOTES THAT -SUMMON US’” 95 - -“‘HERE IT GOES!’ AND HE THRUST IT INTO THE BLAZING FIRE” 321 - -“‘IS IT POSSIBLE?’ SHE EXCLAIMED WITH HORROR, ‘IS THAT TARCISIUS -WHOM I MET A FEW MOMENTS AGO, SO FAIR AND LOVELY?’” 409 - -“EACH ONE, APPROACHING DEVOUTLY, AND WITH TEARS OF GRATITUDE, -RECEIVED FROM HIS CONSECRATED HAND HIS SHARE--THAT IS, THE -WHOLE OF THE MYSTICAL FOOD” 415 - -“PANCRATIUS WAS STILL STANDING IN THE SAME PLACE, FACING THE -EMPEROR, APPARENTLY SO ABSORBED IN HIGHER THOUGHTS AS NOT -TO HEED THE MOVEMENTS OF HIS ENEMY” 427 - -“THE JUDGE ANGRILY REPROVED THE EXECUTIONER FOR HIS HESITATION, -AND BID HIM AT ONCE DO HIS DUTY” 481 - -“FABIOLA WENT DOWN HERSELF, WITH A FEW SERVANTS, AND WHAT WAS -HER DISTRESS AT FINDING POOR EMERENTIANA LYING WELTERING IN -HER BLOOD, AND PERFECTLY DEAD” 535 - - * * * * * - -THE RUINS OF THE COLISEUM, AS SEEN FROM THE PALATINE OF ST. -BONAVENTURE 89 - -ST. LAWRENCE DISPLAYING HIS TREASURES 151 - -INTERIOR OF THE TEMPLE OF JUPITER 163 - -THE RUINS OF THE ROMAN FORUM, AS THEY ARE TO-DAY 199 - -THE MARTYR’S WIDOW 221 - -THE TOMB OF ST. CÆCILIA 227 - -A COLUMBARIUM, OR UNDERGROUND SEPULCHRE, IN WHICH THE ROMANS -DEPOSITED THE URNS CONTAINING THE ASHES OF THE DEAD 233 - -THE CLAUDIAN AQUEDUCT 267 - -INSTRUMENTS OF TORTURE USED AGAINST THE CHRISTIANS, FROM ROLLER’S -“CATACOMBES DE ROME” 287 - -AN ATTACK IN THE CATACOMBS 349 - -THE MARTYR CÆCILIA 363 - -THE MARTYR’S BURIAL 377 - -THE NORTH-WEST SIDE OF THE FORUM 453 - -THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR 485 - - -ILLUSTRATIONS IN THE TEXT. - -EXCLUSIVE OF ORNAMENTAL INITIALS. - -THE BARK OF PETER, AS FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 12 - -INTERIOR OF A ROMAN DWELLING AT POMPEII 19 - -PLAN OF PANSA’S HOUSE AT POMPEII 20 - -DOOR OF PANSA’S HOUSE, WITH THE GREETING SALVE OR WELCOME 22 - -ATRIUM OF A POMPEIAN HOUSE 23 - -ATRIUM OF A HOUSE IN POMPEII 23 - -CLEPSYDRA, OR WATER-CLOCK, FROM A BAS-RELIEF IN THE MATTEI PALACE, -ROME 25 - -A PORTRAIT OF CHRIST, FROM THE CATACOMB OF ST. PONTIANUS 25 - -A PIECE OF A “GOLD GLASS” FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 41 - -POMPEIAN COUCH 44 - -TABLE, AFTER A PAINTING IN HERCULANEUM 44 - -COUCH FROM HERCULANEUM 45 - -ELABORATE SEAT FROM HERCULANEUM 46 - -A SLAVE, FROM A PAINTING IN HERCULANEUM 48 - -A LAMP FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 57 - -SAINT AGNES, FROM AN OLD VASE 60 - -SAINT AGNES, FROM AN OLD VASE PRESERVED IN THE VATICAN MUSEUM 61 - -BANQUET TABLE, FROM A POMPEIAN PAINTING 67 - -DAVID WITH HIS SLING, FROM THE CATACOMB OF ST. PETRONILLA 71 - -A DOVE, AS A SYMBOL OF THE SOUL, FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 81 - -VOLUMINA, FROM A PAINTING OF POMPEII 84 - -SCRINIUM, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. CALLISTUS 84 - -OUR SAVIOUR, FROM A REPRESENTATION FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 87 - -META SUDANS, AFTER A BRONZE OF VESPASIAN 91 - -THE ARCH OF TITUS 92 - -THE APPIAN WAY, AS IT WAS 102 - -EMBLEMATIC REPRESENTATION OF PARADISE, FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 105 - -SAINT SEBASTIAN, FROM THE “ROMA SOTTERANEA” OF DE ROSSI 107 - -MILITARY TRIBUNES, AFTER A BAS-RELIEF ON TRAJAN’S COLUMN 108 - -THE ROMAN FORUM 114 - -A LAMB WITH A MILK CAN, FOUND IN THE CATACOMB OF SS. PETER -AND MARCELLIN 118 - -ST. IGNATIUS, BISHOP OF ANTIOCH 121 - -MONOGRAMS OF CHRIST, FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS, 128, - 169, 264, 274, 279, 324, 334, 395, 436, 472. - -ROMAN GARDENS, FROM AN OLD PAINTING 130 - -A LAMP, WITH THE MONOGRAM OF CHRIST 134 - -A DEACON, FROM DE ROSSI’S “ROMA SOTTERANEA” 137 - -A FISH CARRYING BREAD AND WINE, FROM THE CEMETERY OF ST. LUCINA 138 - -A WALL PAINTING, FROM THE CEMETERY OF ST. PRISCILLA 148 - -CHRIST IN THE MIDST OF HIS APOSTLES, FROM A PAINTING -IN THE CATACOMBS 182 - -INTERIOR OF A ROMAN THEATRE 185 - -HALLS IN THE BATHS OF CARACALLA 186 - -THE PEACOCK, AS AN EMBLEM OF THE RESURRECTION 189 - -A DOVE, AS AN EMBLEM OF THE SOUL 203 - -DIOGENES, THE EXCAVATOR, FROM A PAINTING IN THE CEMETERY OF -DOMITILLA 205 - -JONAS, AFTER A PAINTING IN THE CEMETERY OF CALLISTUS 206 - -LAZARUS RAISED FROM THE DEAD 207 - -TWO FOSSORES, OR EXCAVATORS, FROM A PICTURE AT THE CEMETERY OF -CALLISTUS 208 - -A GALLERY IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. AGNES, ON THE NOMENTAN WAY 211 - -INSCRIPTION OF THE CEMETERY OF ST. AGNES 212 - -AN ARCOSOLIUM 213 - -OUR SAVIOUR BLESSING THE BREAD, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CATACOMBS 218 - -A STAIRCASE IN THE CATACOMBS 220 - -A CHAPEL OF THE BLESSED SACRAMENT 224 - -UNDERGROUND GALLERY IN THE CATACOMBS, FROM TH. ROLLER’S “CATACOMBES -DE ROME” 225 - -A LOCULUS, CLOSED 231 - -“ “ OPEN 235 - -A LAMB WITH A MILK PAIL, EMBLEMATIC OF THE BLESSED EUCHARIST, -FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 238 - -ST. CORNELIUS AND ST. CYPRIAN, FROM DE ROSSI’S “ROMA SOTTERANEA” 244 - -THE TOMB OF CORNELIUS 247 - -A LAMP WITH A REPRESENTATION OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD, FOUND AT -OSTIUM, PRIOR TO THE THIRD CENTURY, FROM ROLLER’S “CATACOMBES” 249 - -CUBICULUM, OR CRYPT, AS FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 250 - -THE LAST SUPPER, FROM A PAINTING IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. CALLISTUS 251 - -A CEILING IN THE CATACOMBS, FROM DE ROSSI’S “ROMA SOTTERANEA” 252 - -OUR LORD UNDER THE SYMBOL OF ORPHEUS, FROM A PICTURE IN THE -CEMETERY OF DOMITILIUS 253 - -THE GOOD SHEPHERD, A WOMAN PRAYING, FROM THE ARCOSOLIUM OF THE -CEMETERY OF SS. NEREUS AND ACHILLEUS 254 - -A CEILING IN THE CATACOMBS, IN THE CEMETERY OF DOMITILLA, THIRD -CENTURY 255 - -THE FISHES AND ANCHOR, THE FISHES AND DOVES 256 - -THE BLESSED VIRGIN AND THE MAGI, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY -OF CALLISTUS 258 - -MOSES STRIKING THE ROCK, FROM THE CEMETERY OF “INTER DUOS LAUROS” 260 - -MAXIMILIAN HERCULEUS, FROM A BRONZE MEDAL IN THE COLLECTION -OF FRANCE 266 - -THE PEACOCK, AS AN EMBLEM OF THE RESURRECTION, FOUND IN THE -CATACOMBS 284 - -CHRIST AND HIS APOSTLES, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CATACOMBS 290 - -ST. PUDENTIANA, ST. PRISCILLA, AND ST. PRAXEDES 293 - -OUR SAVIOUR REPRESENTED AS THE GOOD SHEPHERD, WITH A MILK CAN -AT HIS SIDE, AS FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 299 - -CHAIR OF ST. PETER 304 - -THE ANCHOR AND FISHES, AN EMBLEM OF CHRISTIANITY, FOUND IN THE -CATACOMBS 307 - -“HAUGHTY ROMAN DAME! THOU SHALT BITTERLY RUE THIS DAY AND -HOUR” 313 - -A LAMB BETWEEN WOLVES, EMBLEMATIC OF THE CHURCH, FROM A PICTURE -IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. PRÆTEXTATUS 314 - -AN EMBLEM OF PARADISE, FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 329 - -RUINS OF THE BASILICA OF ST. ALEXANDER, ON THE NOMENTAN WAY, -FROM ROLLER’S “CATACOMBES DE ROME” 342 - -PLAN OF SUBTERRANEAN CHURCH, IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. AGNES 345 - -A CATHEDRA, OR EPISCOPAL CHAIR, IN CATACOMB OF ST. AGNES 346 - -AN ALTAR WITH ITS EPISCOPAL CHAIR, IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. AGNES 348 - -AN ALTAR IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. SIXTUS 352 - -THE CURE OF THE MAN BORN BLIND, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CATACOMBS 355 - -THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. -DOMITILLA 367 - -JESUS CURES THE BLIND MAN, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY OF -ST. DOMITILLA 380 - -THE ANCHOR AND FISH, EMBLEMATIC OF CHRISTIANITY, FOUND IN THE -CATACOMBS 389 - -THE MAMERTINE PRISON 398 - -THE BLESSED VIRGIN, FROM A PORTRAIT FOUND IN THE CEMETERY OF -ST. AGNES 402 - -THE COLISEUM 420 - -A LAMP BEARING A MONOGRAM OF CHRIST, FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 430 - -ELIAS CARRIED TO HEAVEN, FROM A PICTURE FOUND IN THE CATACOMBS 447 - -MOSES RECEIVING THE LAW, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY OF -“INTER DUOS LAUROS” 456 - -CHRIST BLESSING A CHILD, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CEMETERY OF THE -LATIN WAY 463 - -CHAINS FOR THE MARTYRS, AFTER A PICTURE FOUND IN 1841, IN A CRYPT -AT MILAN 480 - -A BLOOD URN, USED AS A MARK FOR A MARTYR’S GRAVE 489 - -THE RESURRECTION OF LAZARUS, FROM THE CEMETERY OF ST. DOMITILLA 490 - -CEMETERY OF CALLISTUS 508 - -ORDINATION, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CATACOMBS 531 - -PORTRAIT OF OUR SAVIOUR, FROM THE CATACOMB OF ST. CALLISTUS 548 - -CONSTANTINE, THE FIRST CHRISTIAN EMPEROR, AFTER A MEDAL OF THE -TIME 549 - -DIOCLESIAN, AFTER A MEDAL IN THE CABINET OF FRANCE 550 - -LUCINIUS, MAXENTIUS, GALERIUS-MAXIMINUS, FROM GOLD AND SILVER -MEDALS IN THE FRENCH COLLECTION 550 - -THE LABARUM, OR CHRISTIAN STANDARD, FROM A COIN OF CONSTANTINE 552 - -NOE AND THE ARK, AS A SYMBOL OF THE CHURCH, FROM A PICTURE IN -THE CATACOMBS 557 - -THE SACRIFICE OF ABRAHAM, FROM A PICTURE IN THE CATACOMBS 563 - -[Illustration: Interior of a Roman dwelling at Pompeii.] - - - - -Part First.--Peace. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE CHRISTIAN HOUSE. - - -It is on an afternoon in September of the year 302, that we invite our -reader to accompany us through the streets of Rome. The sun has -declined, and is about two hours from his setting; the day is cloudless, -and its heat has cooled, so that multitudes are issuing from their -houses, and making their way towards Cæsar’s gardens on one side, or -Sallust’s on the other, to enjoy their evening walk, and learn the news -of the day. - -[Illustration: Plan of Pansa’s house, at Pompeii.] - -But the part of the city to which we wish to conduct our friendly reader -is that known by the name of the Campus Martius. It comprised the flat -alluvial plain between the seven hills of older Rome and the Tiber. -Before the close of the republican period, this field, once left bare -for the athletic and warlike exercises of the people, had begun to be -encroached upon by public buildings. Pompey had erected in it his -theatre; soon after, Agrippa raised the Pantheon and its adjoining -baths. But gradually it became occupied by private dwellings; while the -hills, in the early empire the aristocratic portion of the city, were -seized upon for greater edifices. Thus the Palatine, after Nero’s fire, -became almost too small for the Imperial residence and its adjoining -Circus Maximus. The Esquiline was usurped by Titus’s baths, built on the -ruins of the Golden House, the Aventine by Caracalla’s; and at the -period of which we write, the Emperor Dioclesian was covering the space -sufficient for many lordly dwellings, by the erection of his Thermæ[1] -on the Quirinal, not far from Sallust’s garden, just alluded to. - -The particular spot in the Campus Martius to which we will direct our -steps, is one whose situation is so definite, that we can accurately -describe it to any one acquainted with the topography of ancient or -modern Rome. In republican times there was a large square space in the -Campus Martius, surrounded by boarding, and divided into pens, in which -the _Comitia_, or meetings of the tribes of the people, were held, for -giving their votes. This was called the _Septa_, or _Ovile_, from its -resemblance to a sheepfold. Augustus carried out a plan, described by -Cicero in a letter to Atticus,[2] of transforming this homely -contrivance into a magnificent and solid structure. The _Septa Julia_, -as it was thenceforth called, was a splendid portico of 1000 by 500 -feet, supported by columns, and adorned with paintings. Its ruins are -clearly traceable; and it occupied the space now covered by the Doria -and Verospi palaces (running thus along the present Corso), the Roman -College, the Church of St. Ignatius, and the Oratory of the Caravita. - -The house to which we invite our reader is exactly opposite, and on the -east side of this edifice, including in its area the present church of -St. Marcellus, whence it extended back towards the foot of the Quirinal -hill. It is thus found to cover, as noble Roman houses did, a -considerable extent of ground. From the outside it presents but a blank -and dead appearance. The walls are plain, without architectural -ornament, not high, and scarcely broken by windows. In the middle of one -side of this quadrangle is a door, _in antis_, that is, merely relieved -by a tympanum or triangular cornice, resting on two half columns. Using -our privilege as “artists of fiction,” of invisible ubiquity, we will -enter in with our friend, or “shadow,” as he would have been anciently -called. Passing through the porch, on the pavement of which we read with -pleasure, in mosaic, the greeting SALVE, or WELCOME, we find ourselves -in the _atrium_, or first court of the house, surrounded by a portico or -colonnade.[3] - -[Illustration: Door of Pansa’s house, with the greeting SALVE or -WELCOME.] - -In the centre of the marble pavement a softly warbling jet of pure -water, brought by the Claudian aqueduct from the Tusculan hills, springs -into the air, now higher, now lower, and falls into an elevated basin of -red marble, over the sides of which it flows in downy waves; and before -reaching its lower and wider recipient, scatters a gentle shower on the -rare and brilliant flowers placed in elegant vases around. Under the -portico we see furniture disposed, of a rich and sometimes rare -character; couches inlaid with ivory, and even silver; tables of -oriental woods, bearing candelabra, lamps, and other household -implements of bronze or silver; delicately chased busts, vases, tripods, -and objects of mere art. On the walls are paintings evidently of a -former period, still, however, retaining all their brightness of color -and freshness of execution. These are separated by niches with statues, -representing indeed, like the pictures, mythological or historical -subjects; but we cannot help observing that nothing meets the eye which -could offend the most delicate mind. Here and there an empty niche, or a -covered painting, proves that this is not the result of accident. - -[Illustration: _Atrium_ of a Pompeian house.] - -[Illustration: _Atrium_ of a house in Pompeii.] - -As outside the columns, the coving roof leaves a large square opening in -its centre, called the _impluvium_, there is drawn across it a curtain, -or veil of dark canvas, which keeps out the sun and rain. An artificial -twilight therefore alone enables us to see all that we have described; -but it gives greater effect to what is beyond. Through an arch, -opposite to the one whereby we have entered, we catch a glimpse of an -inner and still richer court, paved with variegated marbles, and adorned -with bright gilding. The veil of the opening above, which, however, here -is closed with thick glass or talc (_lapis specularis_), has been partly -withdrawn, and admits a bright but softened ray from the evening sun on -to the place, where we see, for the first time, that we are in no -enchanted hall, but in an inhabited house. - -Beside a table, just outside the columns of Phrygian marble, sits a -matron not beyond the middle of life, whose features, noble yet mild, -show traces of having passed through sorrow at some earlier period. But -a powerful influence has subdued the recollection of it, or blended it -with a sweeter thought; and the two always come together, and have long -dwelt united in her heart. The simplicity of her appearance strangely -contrasts with the richness of all around her; her hair, streaked with -silver, is left uncovered, and unconcealed by any artifice; her robes -are of the plainest color and texture, without embroidery, except the -purple ribbon sewed on, and called the _segmentum_, which denotes the -state of widowhood; and not a jewel or precious ornament, of which the -Roman ladies were so lavish, is to be seen upon her person. The only -thing approaching to this is a slight gold cord or chain round her neck, -from which apparently hangs some object, carefully concealed within the -upper hem of her dress. - -At the time that we discover her she is busily engaged over a piece of -work, which evidently has no personal use. Upon a long rich strip of -gold cloth she is embroidering with still richer gold thread; and -occasionally she has recourse to one or another of several elegant -caskets upon the table, from which she takes out a pearl, or a gem set -in gold, and introduces it into the design. It looks as if the precious -ornaments of earlier days were being devoted to some higher purpose. - -[Illustration: _Clepsydra_, or Water-clock, from a bas-relief in the -Mattei palace, Rome.] - -But as time goes on, some little uneasiness may be observed to come over -her calm thoughts, hitherto absorbed, to all appearance, in her work. -She now occasionally raises her eyes from it towards the entrance; -sometimes she listens for footsteps, and seems disappointed. She looks -up towards the sun; then perhaps turns her glance towards a _clepsydra_ -or water-clock, on a bracket near her, but just as a feeling of more -serious anxiety begins to make an impression on her countenance, a -cheerful rap strikes the house-door, and she bends forward with a -radiant look to meet the welcome visitor. - -[Illustration: A Portrait of Christ, from the Catacomb of St. -Pontianus.] - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE MARTYR’S BOY. - - -It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes -forward with light and buoyant steps across the atrium, towards the -inner-hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he -reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with -elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are -well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and -warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair -naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual -youth’s garment, the short _prætexta_, reaching below the knee, and a -golden _bulla_, or hollow spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A -bundle of papers and vellum rolls fastened together, and carried by an -old servant behind him, shows us that he is just returning home from -school.[4] - -While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother’s -embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for -some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of -his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets -her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence, -that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses -him as follows: - -“What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has -happened to you on the way?” - -“Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest[5] mother; on the contrary, all has -been delightful,--so much so, that I can scarcely venture to tell you.” - -A look of smiling expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a -delicious laugh, as he continued: - -“Well, I suppose I must. You know I am never happy, and cannot sleep, if -I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the day about -myself.” (The mother smiled again, wondering what the bad was.) “I was -reading the other day that the Scythians each evening cast into an urn a -white or a black stone, according as the day had been happy or unhappy; -if I had to do so, it would serve to mark, in white or black, the days -on which I have, or have not, an opportunity of relating to you all that -I have done. But to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt, a fear of -conscience, whether I ought to tell you all.” - -Did the mother’s heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety, -or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should -seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied? - -“Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may -give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me -to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?” - -“Tell me all, dear Pancratius,” she answered; “nothing that concerns you -can be indifferent to me.” - -“Well, then,” he began, “this last day of my frequenting school appears -to me to have been singularly blessed, and yet full of strange -occurrences. First, I was crowned as the successful competitor in a -declamation, which our good master Cassianus set us for our work during -the morning hours; and this led, as you will hear, to some singular -discoveries. The subject was, ‘That the real philosopher should be ever -ready to die for truth.’ I never heard anything so cold or insipid (I -hope it is not wrong to say so) as the compositions read by my -companions. It was not their fault, poor fellows! what truth can they -possess, and what inducements can they have, to die for any of their -vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming suggestions such a -theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart glowed, and all my -thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of the lessons you -have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are before me. The son -of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my turn came to read my -declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly fatally betrayed me. In -the warmth of my recitation the word ‘Christian’ escaped my lips instead -of ‘philosopher,’ and ‘faith’ instead of ‘truth.’ At the first mistake I -saw Cassianus start; at the second, I saw a tear glisten in his eye, as -bending affectionately towards me, he said, in a whisper, ‘Beware, my -child; there are sharp ears listening.’” - -“What, then,” interrupted the mother, “is Cassianus a Christian? I chose -his school for you because it was in the highest repute for learning and -for morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these -days of danger and apprehension we are obliged to live as strangers in -our own land, scarcely knowing the faces of our brethren. Certainly, had -Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been -deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?” - -“I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows, not noticing -these slips, vehemently applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark -eyes of Corvinus bent scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest -anger.” - -“And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?” - -“He is the oldest and strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in -the school. But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, -he seems ever to have had an ill-will and grudge against me, the cause -of which I cannot understand.” - -“Did he say aught to you, or do?” - -“Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school -into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence -of our companions, and said, ‘Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is -the last time we meet _here_’ (he laid a particular emphasis on the -word); ‘but I have a long score to demand payment of from you. You have -loved to show your superiority in school over me and others older and -better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks at me as you spouted -your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I caught expressions in it -which you may live to rue, and that very soon; for my father, you well -know, is Prefect of the city’ (the mother slightly started); ‘and -something is preparing which may nearly concern you. Before you leave us -I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your name, and it be not an -empty word,[6] let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of -the style and tables.[7] Wrestle with me, or try the cestus[8] against -me. I burn to humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your -insolent triumphs.’” - -The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely -breathed. “And what,” she exclaimed, “did you answer, my dear son?” - -“I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I -consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my -school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them. -‘And as to what you propose,’ I added, ‘you know, Corvinus, that I have -always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a -cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for -revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you -avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which -are usually their bad end?’ Our school-mates had now formed a circle -round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had -hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore -cheerfully added, ‘And now, my comrades, good-bye, and may all happiness -attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace.’ ‘Not -so,’ replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; ‘but’”-- - -The boy’s countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body -trembled, and, half choked, he sobbed out, “I cannot go on; I dare not -tell the rest!” - -“I entreat you, for God’s sake, and for the love you bear your father’s -memory,” said the mother, placing her hand upon her son’s head, “conceal -nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all. -What further said or did Corvinus?” - -The boy recovered himself by a moment’s pause and a silent prayer, and -then proceeded: - -“‘Not so!’ exclaimed Corvinus, ‘not so do you depart, cowardly -worshipper of an ass’s head![9] You have concealed your abode from us, -but I will find you out; till then bear this token of my determined -purpose to be revenged!’ So saying he dealt me a furious blow upon the -face, which made me reel and stagger, while a shout of savage delight -broke forth from the boys around us.” - -He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on: - -“Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment! how my heart seemed -bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear scornfully -the name of ‘coward!’ It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was -strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant -by the throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the -shout of applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the -tables against him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were -flesh and blood so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so -tremendously powerful!” - -“And what did you do, then, my darling boy?” gasped forth the trembling -matron. - -He replied, “My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I thought of -my blessed Lord in the house of Caiphas, surrounded by scoffing enemies, -and struck ignominiously on the cheek, yet meek and forgiving. Could I -wish to be otherwise?[10] I stretched forth my hand to Corvinus, and -said, ‘May God forgive you, as I freely and fully do; and may He bless -you abundantly.’ Cassianus came up at that moment, having seen all from -a distance, and the youthful crowd quickly dispersed. I entreated him, -by our common faith, now acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus -for what he had done; and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet -mother,” murmured the boy, in soft, gentle accents, into his parent’s -bosom, “do you not think I may call this a happy day?” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE DEDICATION. - - -While the foregoing conversation was held, the day had fast declined. An -aged female servant now entered unnoticed, and lighted the lamps placed -on marble and bronze candelabra, and quietly retired. A bright light -beamed upon the unconscious group of mother and son, as they remained -silent, after the holy matron Lucina had answered Pancratius’s last -question only by kissing his glowing brow. It was not merely a maternal -emotion that was agitating her bosom; it was not even the happy feeling -of a mother who, having trained her child to certain high and difficult -principles, sees them put to the hardest test, and nobly stand it. -Neither was it the joy of having for her son one, in her estimation, so -heroically virtuous at such an age; for surely, with much greater -justice than the mother of the Gracchi showed her boys to the astonished -matrons of republican Rome as her only jewels, could that Christian -mother have boasted to the Church of the son she had brought up. - -But to her this was an hour of still deeper, or, shall we say, sublimer -feeling. It was a period looked forward to anxiously for years; a moment -prayed for with all the fervor of a mother’s supplication. Many a pious -parent has devoted her infant son from the cradle to the holiest and -noblest state - -[Illustration: Ordination in the Early Ages of the Church.] - -that earth possesses; has prayed and longed to see him grow up to be, -first a spotless Levite, and then a holy priest at the altar; and has -watched eagerly each growing inclination, and tried gently to bend the -tender thought towards the sanctuary of the Lord of Hosts. And if this -was an only child, as Samuel was to Anna, that dedication of all that is -dear to her keenest affection, may justly be considered as an act of -maternal heroism. What then must be said of ancient matrons,--Felicitas, -Symphorosa, or the unnamed mother of the Maccabees,--who gave up or -offered their children, not one, but many, yea all, to be victims -whole-burnt, rather than priests, to God? - -It was some such thought as this which filled the heart of Lucina in -that hour; while, with closed eyes, she raised it high to heaven, and -prayed for strength. She felt as though called to make a generous -sacrifice of what was dearest to her on earth; and though she had long -foreseen it and desired it, it was not without a maternal throe that its -merit could be gained. And what was passing in that boy’s mind, as he -too remained silent and abstracted? Not any thought of a high destiny -awaiting him. No vision of a venerable Basilica, eagerly visited 1600 -years later by the sacred antiquary and the devout pilgrim, and giving -his name, which it shall bear, to the neighboring gate of Rome.[11] No -anticipation of a church in his honor to rise in faithful ages on the -banks of the distant Thames, which, even after desecration, should be -loved and eagerly sought as their last resting-place, by hearts faithful -still to his dear Rome.[12] No forethought of a silver canopy or -_ciborium_, weighing 287 lbs., to be placed over the porphyry urn that -should contain his ashes, by Pope Honorius I.[13] No idea that his name -would be enrolled in every martyrology, his picture, crowned with rays, -hung over many altars, as the boy-martyr of the early Church. He was -only the simple-hearted Christian youth, who looked upon it as a matter -of course that he must always obey God’s law and His Gospel; and only -felt happy that he had that day performed his duty, when it came under -circumstances of more than usual trial. There was no pride, no -self-admiration in the reflection; otherwise there would have been no -heroism in his act. - -When he raised again his eyes, after his calm reverie of peaceful -thoughts, in the new light which brightly filled the hall, they met his -mother’s countenance gazing anew upon him, radiant with a majesty and -tenderness such as he never recollected to have seen before. It was a -look almost of inspiration; her face was as that of a vision; her eyes -what he would have imagined an angel’s to be. Silently, and almost -unknowingly, he had changed his position, and was kneeling before her; -and well he might; for was she not to him as a guardian spirit, who had -shielded him ever from evil; or might he not well see in her the living -saint whose virtues had been his model from childhood? Lucina broke the -silence, in a tone full of grave emotion. - -“The time is at length come, my dear child,” she said, “which has long -been the subject of my earnest prayer, which I have yearned for in the -exuberance of maternal love. Eagerly have I watched in thee the opening -germ of each Christian virtue, and thanked God as it appeared. I have -noted thy docility, thy gentleness, thy diligence, thy piety, and thy -love of God and man. I have seen with joy thy lively faith, and thy -indifference to worldly things, and thy tenderness to the poor. But I -have been waiting with anxiety for the hour which should decisively show -me whether thou wouldst be content with the poor legacy of thy mother’s -weakly virtue, or art the true inheritor of thy martyred father’s -nobler gifts. That hour, thank God, has come to-day!” - -“What have I done, then, that should thus have changed or raised thy -opinion of me?” asked Pancratius. - -“Listen to me, my son. This day, which was to be the last of thy school -education, methinks that our merciful Lord has been pleased to give thee -a lesson worth it all; and to prove that thou hast put off the things of -a child, and must be treated henceforth as a man; for thou canst think -and speak, yea, and act as one.” - -“How dost thou mean, dear mother?” - -“What thou hast told me of thy declamation this morning,” she replied, -“proves to me how full thy heart must have been of noble and generous -thoughts; thou art too sincere and honest to have written, and fervently -expressed, that it was a glorious duty to die for the faith, if thou -hadst not believed it and felt it.” - -“And truly I do believe and feel it,” interrupted the boy. “What greater -happiness can a Christian desire on earth?” - -“Yes, my child, thou sayest most truly,” continued Lucina. “But I should -not have been satisfied with words. What followed afterwards has proved -to me that thou canst bear intrepidly and patiently, not merely pain, -but what I know it must have been harder for thy young patrician blood -to stand, the stinging ignominy of a disgraceful blow, and the scornful -words and glances of an unpitying multitude. Nay more; thou hast proved -thyself strong enough to forgive and to pray for thine enemy. This day -thou hast trodden the higher paths of the mountain, with the cross upon -thy shoulders; one step more, and thou wilt plant it on its summit. Thou -hast proved thyself the genuine son of the martyr Quintinus. Dost thou -wish to be like him?” - -“Mother, mother! dearest, sweetest mother!” broke out the panting youth; -“could I be his genuine son, and not wish to resemble him? Though I -never enjoyed the happiness of knowing him, has not his image been ever -before my mind? Has he not been the very pride of my thoughts? When each -year the solemn commemoration has been made of him, as of one of the -white-robed army that surrounds the Lamb, in whose blood he washed his -garments, how have my heart and my flesh exulted in his glory; and how -have I prayed to him, in the warmth of filial piety, that he would -obtain for me, not fame, not distinction, not wealth, not earthly joy, -but what he valued more than all these: nay, that the only thing which -he has left on earth may be applied, as I know he now considers it would -most usefully and most nobly be.” - -“What is that, my son?” - -“It is his blood,” replied the youth, “which yet remains flowing in my -veins, and in these only. I know he must wish that _it_ too, like what -he held in his own, may be poured out in love of his Redeemer, and in -testimony of his faith.” - -“Enough, enough, my child!” exclaimed the mother, thrilling with a holy -emotion; “take from thy neck the badge of childhood, I have a better -token to give thee.” - -He obeyed, and put away the golden bulla. - -“Thou hast inherited from thy father,” spoke the mother, with still -deeper solemnity of tone, “a noble name, a high station, ample riches, -every worldly advantage. But there is one treasure which I have reserved -for thee from his inheritance, till thou shouldst prove thyself worthy -of it. I have concealed it from thee till now, though I valued it more -than gold and jewels. It is now time that I make it over to thee.” - -With trembling hands she drew from her neck the golden chain which hung -round it, and for the first time her son saw that it supported a small -bag or purse richly embroidered and set with gems. She opened it, and -drew from it a sponge, dry indeed, but deeply stained. - -[Illustration: “With trembling hands she drew from her neck the golden -chain.”] - -“This, too, is thy father’s blood, Pancratius,” she said, with faltering -voice and streaming eyes. “I gathered it myself from his death-wound, -as, disguised, I stood by his side, and saw him die from the wounds he -had received for Christ.” - -She gazed upon it fondly, and kissed it fervently; and her gushing tears -fell on it, and moistened it once more. And thus liquefied again, its -color glowed bright and warm, as if it had only just left the martyr’s -heart. - -[Illustration: A piece of a “Gold glass” found in the Catacombs.] - -The holy matron put it to her son’s quivering lips, and they were -empurpled with its sanctifying touch. He venerated the sacred relic with -the deepest emotions of a Christian and a son; and felt as if his -father’s spirit had descended into him, and stirred to its depths the -full vessel of his heart, that its waters might be ready freely to flow. -The whole family thus seemed to him once more united. Lucina replaced -her treasure in its shrine, and hung it round the neck of her son, -saying: “When next it is moistened, may it be from a nobler stream than -that which gushes from a weak woman’s eyes!” But heaven thought not so; -and the future combatant was anointed, and the future martyr was -consecrated, by the blood of his father mingled with his mother’s -tears. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE HEATHEN HOUSEHOLD. - - -While the scenes described in the three last chapters were taking place, -a very different one presented itself in another house, situated in the -valley between the Quirinal and Esquiline hills. It was that of Fabius, -a man of the equestrian order, whose family, by farming the revenues of -Asiatic provinces, had amassed immense wealth. His house was larger and -more splendid than the one we have already visited. It contained a third -large peristyle, or court, surrounded by immense apartments; and besides -possessing many treasures of European art, it abounded with the rarest -productions of the East. Carpets from Persia were laid on the ground, -silks from China, many-colored stuffs from Babylon, and gold embroidery -from India and Phrygia covered the furniture; while curious works in -ivory and in metals, scattered about, were attributed to the inhabitants -of islands beyond the Indian ocean, of monstrous form and fabulous -descent. - -Fabius himself, the owner of all this treasure and of large estates, was -a true specimen of an easy-going Roman, who was determined thoroughly to -enjoy this life. In fact, he never dreamt of any other. Believing in -nothing, yet worshipping, as a matter of course, on all proper -occasions, whatever deity happened to have its turn, he passed for a man -as good as his neighbors; and no one had a right to exact more. The -greater part of his day was passed at one or other of the great baths, -which, besides the purposes implied in their name, comprised in their -many adjuncts the equivalents of clubs, reading-rooms, gambling-houses, -tennis-courts, and gymnasiums. There he took his bath, gossiped, read, -and whiled away his hours; or sauntered for a time into the Forum to -hear some orator speaking, or some advocate pleading, or into one of the -many public gardens, whither the fashionable world of Rome repaired. He -returned home to an elegant supper, not later than our dinner; where he -had daily guests, either previously invited, or picked up during the -day, among the many parasites on the look-out for good fare. - -At home he was a kind and indulgent master. His house was well kept for -him by an abundance of slaves; and, as trouble was what most he dreaded, -so long as every thing was comfortable, handsome, and well-served about -him, he let things go on quietly, under the direction of his freedmen. - -It is not, however, so much to him that we wish to introduce our reader, -as to another inmate of his house, the sharer of its splendid luxury, -and the sole heiress of his wealth. This is his daughter, who, according -to Roman usage, bears the father’s name, softened, however, into the -diminutive Fabiola.[14] As we have done before, we will conduct the -reader at once into her apartment. A marble staircase leads to it from -the second court, over the sides of which extends a suite of rooms, -opening upon a terrace, refreshed and adorned by a graceful fountain, -and covered with a profusion of the rarest exotic plants. In these -chambers is concentrated whatever is most exquisite and curious, in -native and foreign art. A refined taste directing ample means, and -peculiar opportunities, has evidently presided over the collection and -arrangement of all around. At this moment, the hour of the evening -repast is approaching; and we discover the mistress of this dainty -abode engaged in preparing herself, to appear with becoming splendor. - -[Illustration: Pompeian Couch.] - -[Illustration: Table, after a painting in Herculaneum.] - -She is reclining on a couch of Athenian workmanship, inlaid with silver, -in a room of Cyzicene form; that is, having glass windows to the ground, -and so opening on to the flowery terrace. Against the wall opposite to -her hangs a mirror of polished silver, sufficient to reflect a whole -standing figure; on a porphyry-table beside it is a collection of the -innumerable rare cosmetics and perfumes, of which the Roman ladies had -become so fond, and on which they lavished immense sums.[15] On another, -of Indian sandal-wood, was a rich display of jewels and trinkets in -their precious caskets, from which to select for the day’s use. - -[Illustration: Couch from Herculaneum.] - -It is by no means our intention, nor our gift, to describe persons or -features; we wish more to deal with minds. We will, therefore, content -ourselves with saying, that Fabiola, now at the age of twenty, was not -considered inferior in appearance to other ladies of her rank, age, and -fortune, and had many aspirants for her hand. But she was a contrast to -her father in temper and in character. Proud, haughty, imperious, and -irritable, she ruled like an empress all that surrounded her, with one -or two exceptions, and exacted humble homage from all that approached -her. An only child, whose mother had died in giving her birth, she had -been nursed and brought up in indulgence by her careless, good-natured -father; she had been provided with the best masters, had been adorned -with every accomplishment, and allowed to gratify every extravagant -wish. She had never known what it was to deny herself a desire. - -Having been left so much to herself, she had read much, and especially -in profounder books. She had thus become a complete philosopher of the -refined, that is, the infidel and intellectual, epicureanism, which had -been long fashionable in Rome. Of Christianity she knew nothing, except -that she understood it to be something very low, material, and vulgar. -She despised it, in fact, too much to think of inquiring into it. And as -to paganism, with its gods, its vices, its fables, and its idolatry, she -merely scorned it, though outwardly she followed it. In fact, she -believed in nothing beyond the present life, and thought of nothing -except its refined enjoyment. But her very pride threw a shield over her -virtue; she loathed the wickedness of heathen society, as she despised -the frivolous youths who paid her jealously exacted attention, for she -found amusement in their follies. She was considered cold and selfish, -but she was morally irreproachable. - -[Illustration: Elaborate Seat from Herculaneum.] - -If at the beginning we seem to indulge in long descriptions, we trust -that our reader will believe that they are requisite, to put him in -possession of the state of material and social Rome at the period of our -narrative; and will make this the more intelligible. And should he be -tempted to think that we describe things as over splendid and refined -for an age of decline in arts and good taste, we beg to remind him, that -the year we are supposed to visit Rome is not as remote from the better -periods of Roman art, for example, that of the Antonines, as our age is -from that of Cellini, Raffaele, or Donatello. Yet in how many Italian -palaces are still preserved works by these great artists, fully prized, -though no longer imitated? So, no doubt, it was with the houses -belonging to the old and wealthy families of Rome. - -We find, then, Fabiola reclining on her couch, holding in her left hand -a silver mirror with a handle, and in the other a strange instrument for -so fair a hand. It is a sharp-pointed stiletto, with a delicately carved -ivory handle, and a gold ring, to hold it by. This was the favorite -weapon with which Roman ladies punished their slaves, or vented their -passion on them, upon suffering the least annoyance, or when irritated -by pettish anger. Three female slaves are now engaged about their -mistress. They belong to different races, and have been purchased at -high prices, not merely on account of their appearance, but for some -rare accomplishment they are supposed to possess. One is a black; not of -the degraded negro stock, but from one of those races, such as the -Abyssinians and Numidians, in whom the features are as regular as in the -Asiatic people. She is supposed to have great skill in herbs, and their -cosmetic and healing properties, perhaps also in more dangerous uses--in -compounding philtres, charms, and possibly poisons. She is merely known -by her national designation as Afra. A Greek comes next, selected for -her taste in dress, and for the elegance and purity of her accent; she -is therefore called Graia. The name which the third bears, Syra, tells -us that she comes from Asia; and she is distinguished for her exquisite -embroidering, and for her assiduous diligence. She is quiet, silent, but -completely engaged with the duties which now devolve upon her. The other -two are garrulous, light, and make great pretence about any little thing -they do. Every moment they address the most extravagant flattery to -their young mistress, or try to promote the suit of one or other of the -profligate candidates for her hand, who has best or last bribed them. - -[Illustration: A Slave. From a painting in Herculaneum.] - -[Illustration: A Slave. From a painting in Pompeii.] - -“How delighted I should be, most noble mistress,” said the black slave, -“if I could only be in the triclinium[16] this evening as you enter in, -to observe the brilliant effect of this new stibium[17] on your guests! -It has cost me many trials before I could obtain it so perfect: I am -sure nothing like it has been ever seen in Rome.” - -“As for me,” interrupted the wily Greek, “I should not presume to aspire -to so high an honor. I should be satisfied to look from outside the -door, and see the magnificent effect of this wonderful silk tunic, which -came with the last remittance of gold from Asia. Nothing can equal its -beauty; nor, I may add, is its arrangement, the result of my study, -unworthy of the materials.” - -“And you, Syra,” interposed the mistress, with a contemptuous smile, -“what would you desire? and what have you to praise of your own doing?” - -“Nothing to desire, noble lady, but that you may be ever happy; nothing -to praise of my own doing, for I am not conscious of having done more -than my duty,” was the modest and sincere reply. - -It did not please the haughty lady, who said, “Methinks, slave, that you -are not over given to praise. One seldom hears a soft word from your -mouth.” - -“And what worth would it be from me,” answered Syra; “from a poor -servant to a noble dame, accustomed to hear it all day long from -eloquent and polished lips? Do you believe it when you hear it from -_them_? Do you not despise it when you receive it from _us_?” - -A look of spite was darted at her from her two companions. Fabiola, too, -was angry at what she thought a reproof. A lofty sentiment in a slave! - -“Have you yet to learn, then,” she answered haughtily, “that you are -mine, and have been bought by me at a high price, that you might serve -me as _I_ please? I have as good a right to the service of your tongue -as of your arms; and if it please me to be praised, and flattered, and -sung to, by you, do it you shall, whether _you_ like it or not. A new -idea, indeed, that a slave has to have any will but that of her -mistress, when her very life belongs to her!” - -“True,” replied the handmaid, calmly but with dignity, “my life belongs -to you, and so does all else that ends with life,--time, health, vigor, -body, and breath. All this you have bought with your gold, and it has -become your property. But I still hold as my own what no emperor’s -wealth can purchase, no chains of slavery fetter, no limit of life -contain.” - -“And pray what is that?” - -“A soul.” - -“A soul!” re-echoed the astonished Fabiola, who had never before heard a -slave claim ownership of such a property. “And pray, let me ask you, -what you mean by the word?” - -“I cannot speak philosophical sentences,” answered the servant, “but I -mean that inward living consciousness within me, which makes me feel to -have an existence with, and among, better things than surround me, which -shrinks sensitively from destruction, and instinctively from what is -allied to it, as disease is to death. And therefore it abhors all -flattery, and it detests a lie. While I possess that unseen gift, and -die it cannot, either is impossible to me.” - -The other two could understand but little of all this; so they stood in -stupid amazement at the presumption of their companion. Fabiola too was -startled; but her pride soon rose again, and she spoke with visible -impatience. - -“Where did you learn all this folly? Who has taught you to prate in this -manner? For my part, I have studied for many years, and have come to the -conclusion, that all ideas of spiritual existences are the dreams of -poets, or sophists; and as such I despise them. Do you, an ignorant, -uneducated slave, pretend to know better than your mistress? Or do you -really fancy, that when, after death, your corpse will be thrown on the -heap of slaves who have drunk themselves, or have been scourged, to -death, to be burnt in one ignominious pile, and when the mingled ashes -have been buried in a common pit, _you_ will survive as a conscious -being, and have still a life of joy and freedom to be lived?” - -“‘_Non omnis moriar_,’[18] as one of your poets says,” replied - -[Illustration: “Fabiola grasped the style in her right hand, and made an -almost blind thrust at the unflinching handmaid.”] - -modestly, but with a fervent look that astonished her mistress, the -foreign slave; “yes, I hope, nay, I _intend_ to survive all this. And -more yet; I believe, and know, that out of that charnel-pit which you -have so vividly described, there is a hand that will pick out each -charred fragment of my frame. And there is a power that will call to -reckoning the four winds of heaven, and make each give back every grain -of my dust that it has scattered; and I shall be built up once more in -this my body, not as yours, or any one’s, bondwoman, but free, and -joyful, and glorious, loving for ever, and beloved. This certain hope is -laid up in my bosom.”[19] - -“What wild visions of an eastern fancy are these, unfitting you for -every duty? You must be cured of them. In what school did you learn all -this nonsense? I never read of it in any Greek or Latin author.” - -“In one belonging to my own land; a school in which there is no -distinction known, or admitted, between Greek or barbarian, freeman or -slave.” - -“What!” exclaimed, with strong excitement, the haughty lady, “without -waiting even for that future ideal existence after death; already, even -now, you presume to claim equality with me? Nay, who knows, perhaps -superiority over me. Come, tell me at once, and without daring to -equivocate or disguise, if you do so or not?” And she sat up in an -attitude of eager expectation. At every word of the calm reply her -agitation increased; and violent passions seemed to contend within her, -as Syra said: - -“Most noble mistress, far superior are you to me in place, and power, -and learning, and genius, and in all that enriches and embellishes life; -and in every grace of form and lineament, and in every charm of act and -speech, high are you raised above all rivalry, and far removed from -envious thought, from one so lowly and so insignificant as I. But if I -must answer simple truth to your authoritative question”--she paused, as -faltering; but an imperious gesture from her mistress bade her -continue--“then I put it to your own judgment, whether a poor slave, who -holds an unquenchable consciousness of possessing within her a spiritual -and living intelligence, whose measure of existence is immortality, -whose only true place of dwelling is above the skies, whose only -rightful prototype is the Deity, can hold herself inferior in moral -dignity, or lower in greatness of thought, than one who, however gifted, -owns that she claims no higher destiny, recognizes in herself no -sublimer end, than what awaits the pretty irrational songsters that -beat, without hope of liberty, against the gilded bars of that -cage.”[20] - -Fabiola’s eyes flashed with fury; she felt herself, for the first time -in her life, rebuked, humbled by a slave. She grasped the style in her -right hand, and made an almost blind thrust at the unflinching handmaid. -Syra instinctively put forward her arm to save her person, and received -the point, which, aimed upwards from the couch, inflicted a deeper gash -than she had ever before suffered. The tears started into her eyes -through the smart of the wound, from which the blood gushed in a stream. -Fabiola was in a moment ashamed of her cruel, though unintentional, act, -and felt still more humbled before her servants. - -“Go, go,” she said to Syra, who was stanching the blood with her -handkerchief, “go to Euphrosyne, and have the wound dressed. I did not -mean to hurt you so grievously. But stay a moment, I must make you some -compensation.” Then, after turning over her trinkets on the table, she -continued, “Take this ring; and you need not return here again this -evening.” - -Fabiola’s conscience was quite satisfied; she had made - -[Illustration: “He who watched with beaming eye, the alms-coffers of -Jerusalem, and noted the widow’s mite, alone saw dropped into the chest, -by the bandaged arm of a foreign female slave, a valuable emerald -ring.”] - -[Illustration: A Lamp, found in the Catacombs.] - -what she considered ample atonement for the injury she had inflicted, in -the shape of a costly present to a menial dependant. And on the -following Sunday, in the title[21] of St. Pastor, not far from her -house, among the alms collected for the poor was found a valuable -emerald ring, which the good priest Polycarp thought must have been the -offering of some very rich Roman lady; but which He who watched, with -beaming eye, the alms-coffers of Jerusalem, and noted the widow’s mite, -alone saw dropped into the chest by the bandaged arm of a foreign female -slave. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -THE VISIT. - - -During the latter part of the dialogue just recorded, and the -catastrophe which closed it, there took place an apparition in Fabiola’s -room, which, if seen by her, would probably have cut short the one and -prevented the other. The interior chambers in a Roman house were more -frequently divided by curtains across their entrances than by doors; and -thus it was easy, especially during such an excited scene as had just -taken place, to enter unobserved. This was the case now; and when Syra -turned to leave the room she was almost startled at seeing standing, in -bright relief before the deep crimson door-curtain, a figure which she -immediately recognized, but which we must briefly describe. - -It was that of a lady, or rather a child not more than twelve or -thirteen years old, dressed in pure and spotless white, without a single -ornament about her person. In her countenance might be seen united the -simplicity of childhood with the intelligence of a maturer age. There -not merely dwelt in her eyes that dove-like innocence which the sacred -poet describes,[22] but often there beamed from them rather an intensity -of pure affection, as though they were looking beyond all surrounding -objects, and rested upon one, unseen by all else, but to her really -present and exquisitely dear. Her forehead was the very seat of candor, -open and bright with undisguising truthfulness; a kindly smile played -about the lips, and the fresh, youthful features varied their sensitive -expression with guileless earnestness, passing rapidly from one feeling -to the other, as her warm and tender heart received it. Those who knew -her believed that she never thought of herself, but was divided entirely -between kindness to those about her, and affection for her unseen love. - -When Syra saw this beautiful vision, like that of an angel, before her, -she paused for a moment. But the child took her hand and reverently -kissed it, saying, “I have seen all; meet me in the small chamber near -the entrance, when I go out.” - -She then advanced; and as Fabiola saw her, a crimson blush mantled in -her cheek; for she feared the child had been witness of her undignified -burst of passion. With a cold wave of her hand she dismissed her slaves, -and then greeted her kinswoman, for such she was, with cordial -affection. We have said that Fabiola’s temper made a few exceptions in -its haughty exercise. One of these was her old nurse and freed-woman -Euphrosyne, who directed all her private household, and whose only creed -was, that Fabiola was the most perfect of beings, the wisest, most -accomplished, most admirable lady in Rome. Another was her young -visitor, whom she loved, and ever treated with gentlest affection, and -whose society she always coveted. - -“This is really kind of you, dear Agnes,” said the softened Fabiola, “to -come at my sudden request, to join our table to-day. But the fact is, my -father has called in one or two new people to dine, and I was anxious to -have some one with whom I could have the excuse of a duty to converse. -Yet I own I have some curiosity about one of our new guests. It is -Fulvius, of whose grace, wealth, and accomplishments I hear so much; -though nobody seems to know who or what he is, or whence he has sprung -up.” - -“My dear Fabiola,” replied Agnes, “you know I am always happy to visit -you, and my kind parents willingly allow me; therefore, make no -apologies about that.” - -[Illustration: Saint Agnes. From an old vase.] - -“And so you have come to me as usual,” said the other playfully, “in -your own snow-white dress, without jewel or ornament, as if you were -every day a bride. You always seem to me to be celebrating one eternal -espousal. But, good heavens! what is this? Are you hurt? Or are you -aware that there is, right on the bosom of your tunic, a large red -spot--it looks like blood. If so, let me change your dress at once.” - -“Not for the world, Fabiola; it is the jewel, the only ornament I mean -to wear this evening. It _is_ blood, and that of a slave; but nobler, in -my eyes, and more generous, than flows in your veins or mine.” - -The whole truth flashed upon Fabiola’s mind. Agnes had seen all; and -humbled almost to sickening, she said somewhat pettishly, “Do you then -wish to exhibit proof to all the world of my hastiness of temper, in -over-chastising a forward slave?” - -“No, dear cousin, far from it. I only wish to preserve for myself a -lesson of fortitude, and of elevation of mind, learnt from a slave, such -as few patrician philosophers can teach us.” - -“What a strange idea! Indeed, Agnes, I have often thought that you make -too much of that class of people. After all, what are they?” - -[Illustration: Saint Agnes. From an old vase preserved in the Vatican -Museum.] - -“Human beings as much as ourselves, endowed with the same reason, the -same feelings, the same organization. Thus far you will admit, at any -rate, to go no higher. Then they form part of the same family; and if -God, from whom comes _our_ life, is thereby our Father, He is theirs as -much, and consequently they are our brethren.” - -“A slave my brother or sister, Agnes? The gods forbid it! They are our -property and our goods; and I have no notion of their being allowed to -move, to act, to think, or to feel, except as it suits their masters, or -is for _their_ advantage.” - -“Come, come,” said Agnes, with her sweetest tones, “do not let us get -into a warm discussion. You are too candid and honorable not to feel, -and to be ready to acknowledge, that to-day you have been outdone by a -slave in all that you most admire,--in mind, in reasoning, in -truthfulness, and in heroic fortitude. Do not answer me; I see it in -that tear. But, dearest cousin, I will save you from a repetition of -your pain. Will you grant me my request?” - -“Any in my power.” - -“Then it is, that you will allow me to purchase Syra--I think that is -her name. You will not like to see her about you.” - -“You are mistaken, Agnes. I will master pride for once, and own, that I -shall now esteem her, perhaps almost admire her. It is a new feeling in -me towards one in her station.” - -“But I think, Fabiola, I could make her happier than she is.” - -“No doubt, dear Agnes; you have the power of making every body happy -about you. I never saw such a household as yours. You seem to carry out -in practice that strange philosophy which Syra alluded to, in which -there is no distinction of freeman and slave. Every body in your house -is always smiling, and cheerfully anxious to discharge his duty. And -there seems to be no one who thinks of commanding. Come, tell me your -secret.” (Agnes smiled.) “I suspect, you little magician, that in that -mysterious chamber, which you will never open for me, you keep your -charms and potions by which you make every body and every thing love -you. If you were a Christian, and were exposed in the amphitheatre, I am -sure the very leopards would crouch and nestle at your feet. But why do -you look so serious, child? You know I am only joking.” - -Agnes seemed absorbed; and bent forward that keen and tender look which -we have mentioned, as though she saw before her, nay, as if she heard -speaking to her, some one delicately beloved. It passed away, and she -gaily said, “Well, well, Fabiola, stranger things have come to pass; and -at any rate, if aught so dreadful had to happen, Syra would just be the -sort of person one would like to see near one; so you really must let me -have her.” - -“For heaven’s sake, Agnes, do not take my words so seriously. I assure -you they were spoken in jest. I have too high an opinion of your good -sense to believe such a calamity possible. But as to Syra’s devotedness, -you are right. When last summer you were away, and I was so dangerously -ill of contagious fever, it required the lash to make the other slaves -approach me; while that poor thing would hardly leave me, but watched by -me, and nursed me day and night, and I really believe greatly promoted -my recovery.” - -“And did you not love her for this?” - -“Love her! Love a slave, child! Of course, I took care to reward her -generously; though I cannot make out what she does with what I give her. -The others tell me she has nothing put by, and she certainly spends -nothing on herself. Nay, I have even heard that she foolishly shares her -daily allowance of food with a blind beggar-girl. What a strange fancy, -to be sure!” - -“Dearest Fabiola,” exclaimed Agnes, “she must be mine! You promised me -my request. Name your price, and let me take her home this evening.” - -“Well, be it so, you most irresistible of petitioners. But we will not -bargain together. Send some one to-morrow, to see my father’s steward, -and all will be right. And now this great piece of business being -settled between us, let us go down to our guests.” - -“But you have forgotten to put on your jewels.” - -“Never mind them; I will do without them for once; I feel no taste for -them to-day.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -THE BANQUET. - - -They found, on descending, all the guests assembled in a hall below. It -was not a state banquet which they were going to share, but the usual -meal of a rich house, where preparation for a tableful of friends was -always made. We will therefore content ourselves with saying that every -thing was elegant and exquisite in arrangement and material; and we will -confine ourselves entirely to such incidents as may throw a light upon -our story. - -When the two ladies entered the exedra or hall, Fabius, after saluting -his daughter, exclaimed, “Why, my child, you have come down, though -late, still scarcely fittingly arranged! You have forgotten your usual -trinkets.” - -Fabiola was confused. She knew not what answer to make: she was ashamed -of her weakness about her angry display; and still more of what she now -thought a silly way of punishing herself for it. Agnes stepped in to the -rescue, and blushingly said: “It is my fault, cousin Fabius, both that -she is late and that she is so plainly dressed. I detained her with my -gossip, and no doubt she wishes to keep me in countenance by the -simplicity of her attire.” - -“You, dear Agnes,” replied the father, “are privileged to do as you -please. But, seriously speaking, I must say that, even with you, this -may have answered while you were a mere child; now that you are -marriageable,[23] you must begin to make a little more display, and try -to win the affections of some handsome and eligible youth. A beautiful -necklace, for instance, such as you have plenty of at home, would not -make you less attractive. But you are not attending to me. Come, come, I -dare say you have some one already in view.” - -During most of this address, which was meant to be thoroughly -good-natured, as it was perfectly worldly, Agnes appeared in one of her -abstracted moods, her bewitched looks, as Fabiola called them, -transfixed, in a smiling ecstasy, as if attending to some one else, but -never losing the thread of the discourse, nor saying any thing out of -place. She therefore at once answered Fabius: “Oh, yes, most certainly, -one who has already pledged me to him by his betrothal-ring, and has -adorned me with immense jewels.”[24] - -“Really!” asked Fabius, “with what?” - -“Why,” answered Agnes, with a look of glowing earnestness, and in tones -of artless simplicity, “he has girded my hand and neck with precious -gems, and has set in my ears rings of peerless pearls.”[25] - -“Goodness! who can it be? Come, Agnes, some day you must tell me your -secret. Your first love, no doubt; may it last long and make you happy!” - -“For ever!” was her reply, as she turned to join Fabiola, and enter with -her into the dining-room. It was well she had not overheard this -dialogue, or she would have been hurt to the quick, as thinking that -Agnes had concealed the most important thought of her age, as she would -have considered it, from her most loving friend. But while Agnes was -defending her, she had turned away from her father, and had been -attending to the other guests. One was a heavy, thick-necked Roman -sophist, or dealer in universal knowledge, named Calpurnius; another, -Proculus, a mere lover of good fare, often at the house. Two more -remain, deserving further notice. The first of them, evidently a -favorite both with Fabiola and Agnes, was a tribune, a high officer of -the imperial or prætorian guard. Though not above thirty years of age, -he had already distinguished himself by his valor, and enjoyed the -highest favor with the emperors Dioclesian in the East, and Maximian -Herculius in Rome. He was free from all affectation in manner or dress, -though handsome in person; and though most engaging in conversation, he -manifestly scorned the foolish topics which generally occupied society. -In short, he was a perfect specimen of a noble-hearted youth, full of -honor and generous thoughts; strong and brave, without a particle of -pride or display in him. - -Quite a contrast to him was the last guest, already alluded to by -Fabiola, the new star of society, Fulvius. Young, and almost effeminate -in look, dressed with most elaborate elegance, with brilliant rings on -every finger and jewels in his dress, affected in his speech, which had -a slightly foreign accent, overstrained in his courtesy of manners, but -apparently good-natured and obliging, he had in a short time quietly -pushed his way into the highest society of Rome. This was, indeed, owing -partly to his having been seen at the imperial court, and partly to the -fascination of his manner. He had arrived in Rome accompanied by a -single elderly attendant, evidently deeply attached to him; whether -slave, freedman, or friend, nobody well knew. They spoke together always -in a strange tongue, and the swarthy features, keen fiery eye, and -unamiable expression of the domestic, inspired a certain degree of fear -in his dependants; for Fulvius had taken an apartment in what was called -an _insula_, or house let out in parts, had furnished it luxuriously, -and had peopled it with a sufficient bachelor’s establishment of slaves. -Profusion rather than abundance distinguished all his domestic -arrangements; and, in the corrupted and degraded circle of pagan Rome, -the obscurity of his history, and the suddenness of his apparition, were -soon forgotten in the evidence of his riches, and the charm of his loose -conversation. A shrewd observer of character, however, would soon notice -a wandering restlessness of eye, and an eagerness of listening attention -for all sights and sounds around him, which betrayed an insatiable -curiosity; and in moments of forgetfulness, a dark scowl under his knit -brows, from his flashing eyes, and a curling of the upper lip, which -inspired a feeling of mistrust, and gave an idea that his exterior -softness only clothed a character of feline malignity. - -[Illustration: Banquet Table, from a Pompeian painting.] - -The guests were soon at table; and as ladies sat, while men reclined on -couches during the repast, Fabiola and Agnes were together on one side, -the two younger guests last described were opposite, and the master, -with his two elder friends, in the middle--if these terms can be used to -describe their position about three parts of a round table; one side -being left unencumbered by the _sigma_,[26] or semi-circular couch, for -the convenience of serving. And we may observe, in passing, that a -table-cloth, a luxury unknown in the times of Horace, was now in -ordinary use. - -When the first claims of hunger, or the palate, had been satisfied, -conversation grew more general. - -“What news to-day at the baths?” asked Calpurnius; “I have no leisure -myself to look after such trifles.” - -“Very interesting news indeed,” answered Proculus. “It seems quite -certain that orders have been received from the divine Dioclesian, to -finish his Thermæ in three years.” - -“Impossible!” exclaimed Fabius. “I looked in at the works the other day, -on my way to Sallust’s gardens, and found them very little advanced in -the last year. There is an immense deal of heavy work to be done, such -as carving marbles and shaping columns.” - -“True,” interposed Fulvius; “but I know that orders have been sent to -all parts, to forward hither all prisoners, and all persons condemned to -the mines in Spain, Sardinia, and even Chersonesus, who can possibly be -spared, to come and labor at the Thermæ. A few thousand Christians, thus -set to the work, will soon finish it.” - -“And why Christians better than other criminals?” asked, with some -curiosity, Fabiola. - -“Why, really,” said Fulvius, with his most winning smile, “I can hardly -give a reason for it; but the fact is so. Among fifty workmen so -condemned, I would engage to pick out a single Christian.” - -“Indeed!” exclaimed several at once; “pray how?” - -“Ordinary convicts,” answered he, “naturally do not love their work, and -they require the lash at every step to compel them to perform it; and -when the overseer’s eye is off them, no work is done. And, moreover, -they are, of course, rude, sottish, quarrelsome, and querulous. But the -Christians, when condemned to these public works, seem, on the contrary, -to be glad, and are always cheerful and obedient. I have seen young -patricians so occupied in Asia, whose hands had never before handled a -pickaxe, and whose weak shoulders had never borne a weight, yet working -hard, and as happy, to all appearance, as when at home. Of course, for -all that, the overseers apply the lash and the stick very freely to -them; and most justly; because it is the will of the divine emperors -that their lot should be made as hard as possible; but still they never -complain.” - -“I cannot say that I admire this sort of justice,” replied Fabiola; “but -what a strange race they must be! I am most curious to know what can be -the motive or cause of this stupidity, or unnatural insensibility, in -these Christians?” - -Proculus replied, with a facetious look: “Calpurnius here no doubt can -tell us; for he is a philosopher, and I hear could declaim for an hour -on any topic, from the Alps to an ant-hill.” - -Calpurnius, thus challenged, and thinking himself highly complimented, -solemnly gave mouth: “The Christians,” said he, “are a foreign sect, the -founder of which flourished many ages ago in Chaldea. His doctrines were -brought to Rome at the time of Vespasian by two brothers named Peter and -Paul. Some maintain that these were the same twin brothers as the Jews -call Moses and Aaron, the second of whom sold his birthright to his -brother for a kid, the skin of which he wanted to make _chirothecæ_[27] -of. But this identity I do not admit; as it is recorded in the mystical -books of the Jews, that the second of these brothers, seeing the other’s -victims give better omens of birds than his own, slew him, as our -Romulus did Remus, but with the jaw-bone of an ass; for which he was -hung by King Mardochæus of Macedon, upon a gibbet fifty cubits high, at -the suit of their sister Judith. However, Peter and Paul coming, as I -said, to Rome, the former was discovered to be a fugitive slave of -Pontius Pilate, and was crucified by his master’s orders on the -Janiculum. Their followers, of whom they had many, made the cross their -symbol, and adore it; and they think it the greatest honor to suffer -stripes, and even ignominious death, as the best means of being like -their teachers, and, as they fancy, of going to them in a place -somewhere among the clouds.”[28] - -This lucid explanation of the origin of Christianity was listened to -with admiration by all except two. The young officer gave a piteous look -towards Agnes, which seemed to say, “Shall I answer the goose, or shall -I laugh outright?” But she put her finger on her lips, and smiled -imploringly for silence. - -“Well, then, the upshot of it is,” observed Proculus, “that the Thermæ -will be finished soon, and we shall have glorious sport. Is it not said -Fulvius, that the divine Dioclesian will himself come to the -dedication?” - -“It is quite certain; and so will there be splendid festivals and -glorious games. But we shall not have to wait so long; already, for -other purposes, have orders been sent to Numidia for an unlimited supply -of lions and leopards to be ready before winter.” Then turning round -sharp to his neighbor, he said, bending a keen eye upon his countenance: -“A brave soldier like you, Sebastian, must be delighted with the noble -spectacles of the amphitheatre, especially when directed against the -enemies of the august emperors, and of the republic.” - -The officer raised himself upon his couch, looked on his interrogator -with an unmoved, majestic countenance, and answered calmly: - -“Fulvius, I should not deserve the title which you give me, could I -contemplate with pleasure, in cold blood, the struggle, if it deserve -the name, between a brute beast and a helpless child or woman, for such -are the spectacles which you call noble. No, I will draw my sword -willingly against any enemy of the princes or the state; but I would as -readily draw it against the lion or the leopard that should rush, even -by imperial order, against the innocent and defenceless.” Fulvius was -starting up; but Sebastian placed his strong hand upon his arm, and -continued: “Hear me out. I am not the first Roman, nor the noblest, who -has thought thus before me. Remember the words of Cicero: ‘Magnificent -are these games, no doubt; but what delight can it be to a refined mind -to see either a feeble man torn by a most powerful beast, or a noble -animal pierced through by a javelin?’[29] I am not ashamed of agreeing -with the greatest of Roman orators.” - -“Then shall we never see you in the amphitheatre, Sebastian?” asked -Fulvius, with a bland but taunting tone. - -“If you do,” the soldier replied, “depend upon it, it will be on the -side of the defenceless, not on that of the brutes that would destroy -them.” - -[Illustration: David with his Sling, from the Catacomb of St. -Petronilla.] - -“Sebastian is right,” exclaimed Fabiola, clapping her hands, “and I -close the discussion by my applause. I have never heard Sebastian speak, -except on the side of generous and high-minded sentiments.” - -Fulvius bit his lip in silence, and all rose to depart. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -POOR AND RICH. - - -During the latter part of the conversation just recorded, Fabius had -been quite abstracted, speculating upon his conversation with Agnes. How -quietly she had kept her secret to herself! But who could this favored -person be, who had already won her heart? He thought over many, but -could find no answer. The gift of rich jewels particularly perplexed -him. He knew no young Roman nobleman likely to possess them; and -sauntering, as he did, every day into the great shops, he was sure to -have heard if any such costly order had been given. Suddenly the bright -idea flashed through his mind, that Fulvius, who daily exhibited new and -splendid gems, brought from abroad, could be the only person able to -make her such presents. He moreover noticed such occasional looks darted -towards his cousin by the handsome foreigner, as left him no doubt that -he was deeply enamored of her; and if Agnes did not seem conscious of -the admiration, this of course was part of her plan. Once convinced of -this important conclusion, he determined to favor the wishes of the two, -and astonish his daughter one day by the sagacity he had displayed. - -But we must leave our nobler guests for more humble scenes, and follow -Syra from the time that she left her young mistress’s apartment. When -she presented herself to Euphrosyne, the good-natured nurse was shocked -at the cruel wound, and uttered an exclamation of pity. But immediately -recognizing in it the work of Fabiola, she was divided between two -contending feelings. “Poor thing!” she said, as she went on first -washing, then closing and dressing, the gash; “it is a dreadful cut! -What did you do to deserve it? How it must have hurt you, my poor girl! -But how wicked you must have been to bring it upon yourself! It is a -savage wound, yet inflicted by the gentlest of creatures! (You must be -faint from loss of blood; take this cordial to support you): and no -doubt she found herself obliged to strike.” - -“No doubt,” said Syra, amused, “it was all my fault; I had no business -to argue with my mistress.” - -“_Argue_ with her!--argue!--O ye gods! who ever heard before of a slave -arguing with a noble mistress, and such a learned one! Why, Calpurnius -himself would be afraid of disputing with her. No wonder, indeed, she -was so--so agitated as not to know that she was hurting you. But this -must be concealed; it must not be known that you have been so wrong. -Have you no scarf or nice veil that we could throw round the arm, as if -for ornament? All the others I know have plenty, given or bought; but -you never seem to care for these pretty things. Let us look.” - -She went into the maid-slave’s dormitory, which was within her room, -opened Syra’s _capsa_ or box, and after turning over in vain its scanty -contents, she drew forth from the bottom a square kerchief of richest -stuff, magnificently embroidered, and even adorned with pearls. Syra -blushed deeply, and entreated not to be obliged to wear this most -disproportioned piece of dress, especially as it was a token of better -days, long and painfully preserved. But Euphrosyne, anxious to hide her -mistress’s fault, was inexorable; and the rich scarf was gracefully -fastened round the wounded arm. - -This operation performed, Syra proceeded to the little parlor opposite -the porter’s room, where the higher slaves could see their friends. She -held in her hand a basket covered with a napkin. The moment she entered -the door a light step came bounding across the room to meet her. It was -that of a girl of about sixteen or seventeen, dressed in the poorest -attire, but clean and neat, who threw her arms round Syra’s neck with -such a bright countenance and such hearty glee, that a bystander would -hardly have supposed that her sightless eyes had never communed with the -outer world. - -“Sit down, dear Cæcilia,” said Syra, with a most affectionate tone, and -leading her to a seat; “to-day I have brought you a famous feast; you -will fare sumptuously.” - -“How so? I think I do every day.” - -“No, but to-day my mistress has kindly sent me out a dainty dish from -her table, and I have brought it here for you.” - -“How kind of her; yet how much kinder of you, my sister! But why have -you not partaken of it yourself? It was meant for you and not for me.” - -“Why, to tell the truth, it is a greater treat to me, to see you enjoy -any thing, than to enjoy it myself.” - -“No, dear Syra, no; it must not be. God has wished me to be poor, and I -must try to do His will. I could no more think of eating the food, than -I could of wearing the dress, of the rich, so long as I can obtain that -of the poor. I love to share with you your _pulmentum_,[30] which I know -is given me in charity by one poor like myself. I procure for you the -merit of alms-deeds; you give me the consolation of feeling that I am, -before God, still only a poor blind thing. I think He will love me -better thus, than if feeding on luxurious fare. I would rather be with -Lazarus at the gate, than with Dives at the table.” - -“How much better and wiser you are than I, my good child! It shall be as -you wish. I will give the dish to my companions, and, in the meantime, -here I set before you your usual humble fare.” - -“Thanks, thanks, dear sister; I will await your return.” - -Syra went to the maids’ apartment, and put before her jealous but greedy -companions the silver dish. As their mistress occasionally showed them -this little kindness, it did not much surprise them. But the poor -servant was weak enough to feel ashamed of appearing before her comrades -with the rich scarf round her arm. She took it off before she entered; -then, not wishing to displease Euphrosyne, replaced it as well as she -could with one hand, on coming out. She was in the court below, -returning to her blind friend, when she saw one of the noble guests of -her mistress’s table alone, and, with a mortified look, crossing towards -the door, and she stepped behind a column to avoid any possible, and not -uncommon, rudeness. It was Fulvius; and no sooner did she, unseen, catch -a glimpse of him, than she stood for a moment as one nailed to the spot. -Her heart beat against her bosom, then quivered as if about to cease its -action; her knees struck against one another, a shiver ran through her -frame, while perspiration started on her brow. Her eyes, wide open, were -fascinated, like the bird’s before the snake. She raised her hand to her -breast, made upon it the sign of life, and the spell was broken. She -fled in an instant, still unnoticed, and had hardly stepped noiselessly -behind a curtain that closed the stairs, when Fulvius, with downcast -eyes, reached the spot on which she had stood. He started back a step, -as if scared by something lying before him. He trembled violently; but -recovering himself by a sudden effort, he looked around him and saw that -he was alone. There was no eye upon him--except One which he did not -heed, but which read his evil heart in that hour. He gazed again upon -the object, and stooped to pick it up, but drew back his hand, and that -more than once. At last he heard footsteps approaching, he recognized -the martial tread of Sebastian, and hastily he snatched up from the -ground the rich scarf which had dropped from Syra’s arm. He shook as he -folded it up; and when, to his horror, he found upon it spots of fresh -blood, which had oozed through the bandages, he reeled like a drunken -man to the door, and rushed to his lodgings. - -Pale, sick, and staggering, he went into his chamber, repulsing roughly -the officious advances of his slaves; and only beckoned to his faithful -domestic to follow him, and then signed to him to bar the door. A lamp -was burning brightly by the table, on which Fulvius threw the -embroidered scarf in silence, and pointed to the stains of blood. That -dark man said nothing; but his swarthy countenance was blanched, while -his master’s was ashy and livid. - -“It is the same, no doubt,” at length spoke the attendant in their -foreign tongue; “but _she_ is certainly dead.” - -“Art thou quite sure, Eurotas?” asked the master, with the keenest of -his hawk’s looks. - -“As sure as man can be of what he has not seen himself. Where didst thou -find this? And whence this blood?” - -“I will tell thee all to-morrow; I am too sick to-night. As to those -stains, which were liquid when I found it, I know not whence they came, -unless they are warnings of vengeance--nay, a vengeance themselves, deep -as the Furies could meditate, fierce as they could launch. That blood -has not been shed _now_.” - -“Tut, tut! this is no time for dreams or fancies. Did any one see thee -pick the--the thing up?” - -“No one, I am sure.” - -“Then we are safe; better in our hands than in others’. A good night’s -rest will give us better counsel.” - -“True, Eurotus; but do thou sleep this night in my chamber.” - -Both threw themselves on their couches; Fulvius on a rich bed, Eurotus -on a lowly pallet, from which, raised upon his elbow, with dark but -earnest eye, he long watched, by the lamp’s light, the troubled slumbers -of the youth--at once his devoted guardian and his evil genius. Fulvius -tossed about and moaned in his sleep, for his dreams were gloomy and -heavy. First he sees before him a beautiful city in a distant land, with -a river of crystal brightness flowing through it. Upon it is a galley -weighing anchor, with a figure on deck, waving towards him, in farewell, -an embroidered scarf. The scene changes; the ship is in the midst of the -sea, battling with a furious storm, while on the summit of the mast the -same scarf streams out, like a pennant, unruffled and uncrumpled by the -breeze. The vessel is now dashed upon a rock, and all with a dreadful -shriek are buried in the deep. But the topmast stands above the billows, -with its calm and brilliant flag; till, amidst the sea-birds that shriek -around, a form with a torch in her hand, and black flapping wings, flies -by, snatches it from the staff, and with a look of stern anger displays -it, as in her flight she pauses before him. He reads upon it, written in -fiery letters, NEMESIS.[31] - -But it is time to return to our other acquaintances in the house of -Fabius. - -After Syra had heard the door close on Fulvius she paused to compose -herself, offered up a secret prayer, and returned to her blind friend. -She had finished her frugal meal, and was waiting patiently the slave’s -return. Syra then commenced her daily duties of kindness and -hospitality; she brought water, washed her hands and feet in obedience -to Christian practice, and combed and dressed her hair, as if the poor -creature had been her own child. Indeed, though not much older, her look -was so tender, as she hung over her poor friend, her tones were so soft, -her whole action so motherly, that one would have thought it was a -parent ministering to her daughter, rather than a slave serving a -beggar. And this beggar, too, looked so happy, spoke so cheerily, and -said such beautiful things, that Syra lingered over her work to listen -to her, and gaze on her. - -It was at this moment that Agnes came for her appointed interview, and -Fabiola insisted on accompanying her to the door. But when Agnes softly -raised the curtain, and caught a sight of the scene before her, she -beckoned to Fabiola to look in, enjoining silence by her gesture. The -blind girl was opposite, and her voluntary servant on one side, -unconscious of witnesses. The heart of Fabiola was touched; she had -never imagined that there was such a thing as disinterested love on -earth between strangers; as to charity, it was a word unknown to Greece -or Rome. She retreated quietly, with a tear in her eye, and said to -Agnes, as she took leave: - -“I must retire; that girl, as you know, proved to me this afternoon that -a slave may have a head; she has now shown me that she may have a heart. -I was amazed, when, a few hours ago, you asked me if I did not love a -slave. I think, now, I could almost love Syra. I half regret that I have -agreed to part with her.” - -As she went back into the court, Agnes entered the room, and laughing, -said: - -“So, Cæcilia, I have found out your secret at last. This is the friend -whose food you have always said was so much better than mine, that you -would never eat at my house. Well, if the dinner is not better, at any -rate I agree that you have fallen in with a better hostess.” - -“Oh, don’t say so, sweet Lady Agnes,” answered the blind girl: “it is -the dinner indeed that is better. You have plenty of opportunities for -exercising charity; but a poor slave can only do so by finding some one -still poorer, and helpless, like me. That thought makes her food by far -the sweetest.” - -“Well, you are right,” said Agnes, “and I am not sorry to have you -present, to hear the good news I bring to Syra. It will make _you_ happy -too. Fabiola has allowed me to become your mistress, Syra, and to take -you with me. To-morrow you shall be free, and a dear sister to me.” - -Cæcilia clapped her hands with joy, and throwing her arms round Syra’s -neck, exclaimed: “Oh, how good! How happy you will now be, dear Syra!” - -But Syra was deeply troubled, and replied with faltering voice, “O good -and gentle lady, you have been kind indeed, to think so much about one -like me. But pardon me if I entreat you to remain as I am; I assure you, -dear Cæcilia, I am quite happy here.” - -“But why wish to stay?” asked Agnes. - -“Because,” rejoined Syra, “it is most perfect to abide with God, in the -state wherein we have been called.[32] I own this is not the one in -which I was born; I have been brought to it by others.” A burst of tears -interrupted her for a moment, and then she went on. “But so much the -more clear is it to me, that God has willed me to serve Him in this -condition. How can I wish to leave it?” - -“Well then,” said Agnes, still more eagerly, “we can easily manage it. I -will not free you, and you shall be my bondwoman. That will be just the -same.” - -“No, no,” said Syra, smiling, “that will never do. Our great Apostle’s -instructions to us are: ‘Servants be subject to your masters with all -fear, not only to the good and gentle, but also to the froward.’[33] I -am far from saying that my mistress is one of these; but you, noble -Lady Agnes, are too good and gentle for me. Where would be my cross, if -I lived with you? You do not know how proud and headstrong I am by -nature; and I should fear for myself, if I had not some pain and -humiliation.” - -Agnes was almost overcome; but she was more eager than ever to possess -such a treasure of virtue, and said, “I see, Syra, that no motive -addressed to your own interest can move you, I must therefore use a more -selfish plea. I want to have you with me, that I may improve by your -advice and example. Come, you will not refuse such a request.” - -“Selfish,” replied the slave, “you can never be. And therefore I will -appeal to yourself from your request. You know Fabiola, and you love -her. What a noble soul, and what a splendid intellect she possesses! -What great qualities and high accomplishments, if they only reflected -the light of truth! And how jealously does she guard in herself that -pearl of virtues, which only we know how to prize! What a truly great -Christian she would make!” - -“Go on, for God’s sake, dear Syra,” broke out Agnes, all eagerness. “And -do you hope for it?” - -“It is my prayer day and night; it is my chief thought and aim; it is -the occupation of my life. I will try to win her by patience, by -assiduity, even by such unusual discussions as we have held to-day. And -when all is exhausted, I have one resource more.” - -“What is that?” both asked. - -“To give my life for her conversion. I know that a poor slave like me -has few chances of martyrdom. Still, a fiercer persecution is said to be -approaching, and perhaps it will not disdain such humble victims. But be -that as God pleases, my life for her soul is placed in His hands. And -oh, dearest, best of ladies,” she exclaimed, falling on her knees and -bedewing Agnes’s hand with tears, “do not come in thus between me and my -prize.” - -“You have conquered, sister Syra (oh! never again call me lady),” said -Agnes. “Remain at your post; such single-hearted, generous virtue must -triumph. It is too sublime for so homely a sphere as my household.” - -“And I, for my part,” subjoined Cæcilia, with a look of arch gravity, -“say that she has said one very wicked thing, and told a great story, -this evening.” - -“What is that, my pet?” asked Syra, laughing. - -“Why, you said that I was wiser and better than you, because I declined -eating some trumpery delicacy, which would have gratified my palate for -a few minutes, at the expense of an act of greediness; while you have -given up liberty, happiness, the free exercise of your religion, and -have offered to give up life itself, for the salvation of one who is -your tyrant and tormentor. Oh, fie! how could you tell me such a thing!” - -[Illustration: A Dove, as a Symbol of the Soul, found in the Catacombs.] - -The servant now announced that Agnes’s litter was waiting at the door; -and any one who could have seen the affectionate farewell of the -three,--the noble lady, the slave, and the beggar, would have justly -exclaimed, as people had often done before, “See how these Christians -love one another!” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE FIRST DAY’S CONCLUSION. - - -If we linger a little time about the door, and see Agnes fairly off, and -listen to the merry conversation between her and Cæcilia, in which Agnes -asks her to allow herself to be accompanied home by one of her -attendants, as it has grown dark, and the girl is amused at the lady’s -forgetfulness that day and night are the same to her, and that on this -very account she is the appointed guide to thread the mazes of the -catacombs, familiar to her as the streets of Rome, which she walks in -safety at all hours; if thus we pass a little time before re-entering, -to inquire how the mistress within fares after the day’s adventures, we -shall find the house turned topsy-turvy. Slaves, with lamps and torches, -are running about in every direction, looking for something or other -that is lost, in every possible and impossible place. Euphrosyne insists -it must be found; till at last the search is given up in despair. The -reader will probably have anticipated the solution of the mystery. Syra -had presented herself to have her wound re-dressed, according to orders, -and the scarf which had bound it was no longer there. She could give no -account of it, further than that she had taken it off, and put it on, -certainly not so well as Euphrosyne had done it, and she gave the -reason, for she scorned to tell a lie. Indeed she had never missed it -till now. The kind-hearted old nurse was much grieved at the loss, -which she considered must be heavy to a poor slave-girl, as she probably -reserved that object for the purchase of her liberty. And Syra too was -sorry, but for reasons which she could not have made the good -housekeeper comprehend. - -Euphrosyne had all the servants interrogated, and many even searched, to -Syra’s great pain and confusion; and then ordered a grand general battue -through every part of the house where Syra had been. Who for a moment -could have dreamt of suspecting a noble guest at the master’s table of -purloining any article, valuable or not? The old lady therefore came to -the conclusion, that the scarf had been spirited away by some magical -process; and greatly suspected that the black slave Afra, who she knew -could not bear Syra, had been using some spell to annoy the poor girl. -For she believed the Moor to be a very Canidia,[34] being often obliged -to let her go out alone at night, under pretence of gathering herbs at -full moon for her cosmetics, as if plucked at any other time, they would -not possess the same virtues; to procure deadly poisons Euphrosyne -suspected, but in reality to join in the hideous orgies of Fetichism[35] -with others of her race, or to hold interviews with such as consulted -her imaginary art. It was not till all was given up, and Syra found -herself alone, that on more coolly recollecting the incidents of the -day, she remembered the pause in Fulvius’s walk across the court, at the -very spot where she had stood, and his hurried steps, after this, to the -door. The conviction then flashed on her mind, that she must have there -dropped her kerchief, and that he must have picked it up. That he should -have passed it with indifference she believed impossible. She was -confident, therefore, that it was now in his possession. After -attempting to speculate on the possible consequences of this -misadventure, and coming to no satisfactory conclusion, she determined -to commit the matter entirely to God, and sought that repose which a -good conscience was sure to render balmy and sweet. - -Fabiola, on parting with Agnes, retired to her apartment; and after the -usual services had been rendered to her by her other two servants and -Euphrosyne, she dismissed them with a gentler manner than ever she had -shown before. As soon as they had retired, she went to recline upon the -couch where first we found her; when, to her disgust, she discovered -lying on it the style with which she had wounded Syra. She opened a -chest, and threw it in with horror; nor did she ever again use any such -weapon. - -[Illustration: _Volumina_, from a painting of Pompeii. _Scrinium_, from -a picture in the Cemetery of St. Callistus.] - -She took up the volume which she had last laid down, and which had -greatly amused her; but it was quite insipid, and seemed most frivolous -to her. She laid it down again, and gave free course to her thoughts on -all that had happened. It struck her first what a wonderful child her -cousin Agnes was,--how unselfish, how pure, how simple; how sensible, -too, and even wise! She determined to be her protector, her elder sister -in all things. She had observed, too, as well as her father, the -frequent looks which Fulvius had fixed upon her; not, indeed, those -libertine looks which she herself had often borne with scorn, but -designing, cunning glances, such as she thought betrayed some scheme or -art, of which Agnes might become the victim. She resolved to frustrate -it, whatever it might be, and arrived at exactly the opposite conclusion -to her father’s about him. She made up her mind to prevent Fulvius -having any access to Agnes, at least at her house; and even blamed -herself for having brought one so young into the strange company which -often met at her father’s table, especially as she now found that her -motives for doing so had been decidedly selfish. It was nearly at the -same moment that Fulvius, tossing on his couch, had come to the -determination never again, if possible, to go inside Fabius’s door, and -to resist or elude every invitation from him. - -Fabiola had measured his character; had caught, with her penetrating -eye, the affectation of his manner, and the cunning of his looks; and -could not help contrasting him with the frank and generous Sebastian. -“What a noble fellow that Sebastian is!” she said to herself. “How -different from all the other youths that come here. Never a foolish word -escapes his lips, never an unkind look darts from his bright and -cheerful eye. How abstemious, as becomes a soldier, at the table; how -modest, as befits a hero, about his own strength and bold actions in -war, which others speak so much about. Oh, if _he_ only felt towards me -as others pretend to do--” She did not finish the sentence, but a deep -melancholy seemed to steal over her whole soul. - -Then Syra’s conversation, and all that had resulted from it, passed -again through her mind; it was painful to her, yet she could not help -dwelling on it; and she felt as if that day were a crisis in her life. -Her pride had been humbled by a slave, and her mind softened, she knew -not how. Had her eyes been opened in that hour; and had she been able to -look up above this world, she would have seen a soft cloud like incense, -but tinged with a rich carnation, rising from the bed-side of a kneeling -slave (prayer and willing sacrifice of life breathed upwards together), -which, when it struck the crystal footstool of a mercy-seat in heaven, -fell down again as a dew of gentlest grace upon her arid heart. - -She could not indeed see this; yet it was no less true; and wearied, at -length she sought repose. But she too had a distressing dream. She saw a -bright spot as in a delicious garden, richly illuminated by a light like -noonday, but inexpressibly soft; while all around was dark. Beautiful -flowers formed the sward, plants covered with richest bloom grew -festooned from tree to tree, on each of which glowed golden fruit. In -the midst of this space she saw the poor blind girl, with her look of -happiness on her cheerful countenance, seated on the ground; while on -one side, Agnes, with her sweetest simple looks, and on the other, Syra, -with her quiet patient smile, hung over her and caressed her. Fabiola -felt an irresistible desire to be with them; it seemed to her that they -were enjoying some felicity which she had never known or witnessed; and -she thought they even beckoned her to join them. She ran forward to do -so, when to her horror she found a wide, and black, and deep ravine, at -the bottom of which roared a torrent between herself and them. By -degrees its waters rose, till they reached the upper margin of the dyke, -and there flowed, though so deep, yet sparkling and brilliant, and most -refreshing. Oh, for courage to plunge into this stream, through which -alone the gorge could be crossed, and land in safety on the other side! -And still they beckoned, urging her on to try it. But as she was -standing on the brink, clasping her hands in despair, Calpurnius seemed -to emerge from the dark air around, with a thick heavy curtain stretched -out, on which were worked all sorts of monstrous and hideous chimeras, -most curiously running into, and interwoven with, each other; and this -dark veil grew and grew, till it shut out the beautiful vision from her -sight. She felt disconsolate, till she seemed - -[Illustration: Our Saviour, from a representation found in the -Catacombs.] - -to see a bright genius (as she called him), in whose features she -fancied she traced a spiritualized resemblance to Sebastian, and whom -she had noticed standing sorrowful at a distance, now approach her, and, -smiling on her, fan her fevered face with his gold and purple wing; when -she lost her vision in a calm and refreshing sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -MEETINGS. - - -Of all the Roman hills, the most distinctly traceable on every side is -undoubtedly the Palatine. Augustus having chosen it for his residence, -successive emperors followed his example; but gradually transformed his -modest residence into a _palace_, which covered the entire hill. Nero, -not satisfied with its dimensions, destroyed the neighborhood by fire, -and then extended the imperial residence to the neighboring Esquiline; -taking in the whole space now occupied between the two hills by the -Coliseum. Vespasian threw down that “golden house,” of which the -magnificent vaults remain, covered with beautiful paintings; and built -the amphitheatre just mentioned, and other edifices, with its materials. -The entrance to the palace was made, soon after this period, from the -_Via Sacra_, or Sacred Way, close to the arch of Titus. After passing -through a vestibule, the visitor found himself in a magnificent court, -the plan of which can be distinctly traced. Turning from this, on the -left side, he entered into an immense square space, arranged and -consecrated to Adonis by Domitian, and planted with trees, shrubs, and -flowers. - -Still keeping to the left, you would enter into sets of chambers, -constructed by Alexander Severus in honor of his - -[Illustration: The Ruins of the Coliseum, as seen from the Palatine of -St. Bonaventure.] - -mother Mammæa, whose name they bore. They looked out opposite to the -Cœlian hill, just at the angle of it, which abuts upon the later -triumphal arch of Constantine, and the fountain called the _Meta -Sudans_.[36] Here was the apartment occupied by Sebastian as a tribune, -or superior officer, of the imperial guard. It consisted of a few rooms, -most modestly furnished, as became a soldier and a Christian. His -household was limited to a couple of freedmen, and a venerable matron, -who had been his nurse, and loved him as a child. They were Christians, -as were all the men in his cohort; partly by conversion, but chiefly by -care in recruiting new soldiers. - -[Illustration: _Meta Sudans_, after a bronze of Vespasian.] - -It was a few evenings after the scenes described in the last chapter, -that Sebastian, a couple of hours after dark, ascended the steps of the -vestibule just described, in company with another youth, of whom we have -already spoken. Pancratius admired and loved Sebastian with the sort of -affection that an ardent young officer may be supposed to bear towards -an older and gallant soldier, who receives him into his friendship. But -it was not as to a soldier of Cæsar, but as to a champion of Christ, -that the civilian boy looked up to the young tribune, whose generosity, -noble-mindedness, and valor, were enshrouded in such a gentle, simple -bearing, and were accompanied by such prudence and considerateness, as -gave confidence and encouragement to all that dealt with him. And -Sebastian loved Pancratius no less, on account of his single-hearted -ardor, and the innocence and candor of his mind. But he well saw the -dangers to which his youthful warmth and impetuosity might lead him; and -he encouraged him to keep close to himself, that he might guide, and -perhaps sometimes restrain him. - -[Illustration: The Arch of Titus.] - -As they were entering the palace, that part of which Sebastian’s cohort -guarded, he said to his companion: “Every time that I enter here, it -strikes me how kind an act of Divine Providence it was, to plant almost -at the very gate of Cæsar’s palace, the arch which commemorates at once -the downfall of the first great system that was antagonistic to -Christianity, and the completion of the greatest prophecy of the -Gospel,--the destruction of Jerusalem by the Roman power.[37] I cannot -but believe that another arch will one day arise to commemorate no less -a victory, over the second enemy of our religion, the heathen Roman -empire itself.” - -“What! do you contemplate the overthrow of this vast empire, as the -means of establishing Christianity?” - -“God forbid! I would shed the last drop of my blood, as I shed my first, -to maintain it. And depend upon it, when the empire is converted, it -will not be by such gradual growth as we now witness, but by some means, -so unhuman, so divine, as we shall never, in our most sanguine longings, -forecast; but all will exclaim, ‘This is the change of the right hand of -the Most High!’” - -“No doubt; but your idea of a Christian triumphal arch supposes an -earthly instrument; where do you imagine this to lie?” - -“Why, Pancratius, my thoughts, I own, turn towards the family of one of -the Augusti, as showing a slight germ of better thoughts: I mean, -Constantius Chlorus.” - -“But, Sebastian, how many of even our learned and good men will say, -nay, do say, if you speak thus to them, that similar hopes were -entertained in the reigns of Alexander, Gordian, or Aurelian; yet ended -in disappointment. Why, they ask, should we not expect the same results -now?” - -“I know it too well, my dear Pancratius, and bitterly have I often -deplored those dark views which damp our energies; that lurking thought -that vengeance is perpetual, and mercy temporary, that martyr’s blood, -and virgin’s prayer have no power even to shorten times of visitation, -and hasten hours of grace.” - -By this time they had reached Sebastian’s apartment, the principal room -of which was lighted, and evidently prepared for some assembly. But -opposite the door was a window open to the ground, and leading to a -terrace that ran along that side of the building. The night looked so -bright through it, that they both instinctively walked across the room, -and stood upon the terrace. A lovely and splendid view presented itself -to them. The moon was high in the heavens, swimming in them, as an -Italian moon does; a round, full globe, not a flat surface, bathed all -round in its own refulgent atmosphere. It dimmed, indeed, the stars near -itself; but they seemed to have retired, in thicker and more brilliant -clusters, into the distant corners of the azure sky. It was just such an -evening as, years after, Monica and Augustine enjoyed from a window at -Ostia, as they discoursed of heavenly things. - -It is true that, below and around, all was beautiful and grand. The -Coliseum, or Flavian amphitheatre, rose at one side, in all its -completeness; and the gentle murmur of the fountain, while its waters -glistened in a silvery column, like the refluent sea-wave gliding down a -slanting rock, came soothingly on the ear. On the other side, the lofty -building called the Septizonium of Severus, in front, towering above the -Cœlian, the sumptuous baths of Caracalla, reflected from their marble -walls and stately pillars the radiance of the autumn moon. But all these -massive monuments of earthly glory rose unheeded before the two -Christian youths, as they stood silent; the elder with his right arm -round his youthful companion’s neck, and resting on his shoulder. After -a long pause, he took up the thread of his last discourse, and said, in -a softer tone: “I was going to show you, when we stepped out here, the -very spot just below our feet, where I have often fancied the triumphal -arch, to which I have alluded, would stand.[38] But who can think of -such paltry things below, with the splendid vault above us, lighted up -so brilliantly, as if on purpose to draw upwards our eyes and hearts?” - -“True, Sebastian; and I have sometimes thought, that, if - -[Illustration: “Hark!” said Pancratius, “these are the trumpet-notes -that summon us.”] - -the under-side of that firmament up to which the eye of man, however -wretched and sinful, may look, be so beautiful and bright, what must -that upper-side be, down upon which the eye of boundless Glory deigns to -glance! I imagine it to be like a richly-embroidered veil, through the -texture of which a few points of golden thread may be allowed to pass; -and these only reach us. How transcendently royal must be that upper -surface, on which tread the lightsome feet of angels, and of the just -made perfect!” - -“A graceful thought, Pancratius, and no less true. It makes the veil, -between us laboring here and the triumphal church above, thin and easily -to be passed.” - -“And pardon me, Sebastian,” said the youth, with the same look up to his -friend, as a few evenings before had met his mother’s inspired gaze, -“pardon me if, while you wisely speculate upon a future arch to record -the triumph of Christianity, I see already before me, built and open, -the arch through which we, feeble as we are, may lead the Church -speedily to the triumph of glory, and ourselves to that of bliss.” - -“Where, my dear boy, where do you mean?” - -Pancratius pointed steadily with his hand towards the left, and said: -“There, my noble Sebastian; any of those open arches of the Flavian -amphitheatre, which lead to its arena; over which, not denser than the -outstretched canvas which shades our spectators, is that veil of which -you spoke just now. But hark!” - -“That was a lion’s roar from beneath the Cœlian!” exclaimed Sebastian, -surprised. “Wild beasts must have arrived at the _vivarium_[39] of the -amphitheatre; for I know there were none there yesterday.” - -“Yes, hark!” continued Pancratius, not noticing the interruption. “These -are the trumpet-notes that summon us; that is the music that must -accompany us to our triumph!” - -Both paused for a time, when Pancratius again broke the silence, saying: -“This puts me in mind of a matter on which I want to take your advice, -my faithful counsellor; will your company be soon arriving?” - -“Not immediately; and they will drop in one by one; till they assemble, -come into my chamber, where none will interrupt us.” - -They walked along the terrace, and entered the last room of the suite. -It was at the corner of the hill, exactly opposite the fountain; and was -lighted only by the rays of the moon, streaming through the open window -on that side. The soldier stood near this, and Pancratius sat upon his -small military couch. - -“What is this great affair, Pancratius,” said the officer, smiling, -“upon which you wish to have my sage opinion?” - -“Quite a trifle, I dare say,” replied the youth, bashfully, “for a bold -and generous man like you; but an important one to an unskilful and weak -boy like me.” - -“A good and virtuous one, I doubt not; do let me hear it; and I promise -you every assistance.” - -“Well, then, Sebastian--now don’t think me foolish,” proceeded -Pancratius, hesitating and blushing at every word. “You are aware I have -a quantity of useless plate at home--mere lumber, you know, in our plain -way of living; and my dear mother, for any thing I can say, won’t wear -the lots of old-fashioned trinkets, which are lying locked up, and of no -use to any body. I have no one to whom all this should descend. I am, -and shall be, the last of my race. You have often told me, who in that -case are a Christian’s natural heirs,--the widow and the fatherless, the -helpless and the indigent. Why should these wait my death, to have what -by reversion is theirs? And if a persecution is coming, why run the -risk of confiscation seizing them, or of plundering lictors stealing -them, whenever our lives are wanted, to the utter loss of our rightful -heirs?” - -“Pancratius,” said Sebastian, “I have listened without offering a remark -to your noble suggestion. I wished you to have all the merit of uttering -it yourself. Now, just tell me, what makes you doubt or hesitate about -what I know you wish to do?” - -“Why, to tell the truth, I feared it might be highly presumptuous and -impertinent in one of my age to offer to do what people would be sure to -imagine was something grand or generous; while I assure you, dear -Sebastian, it is no such thing. For I shall not miss these things a bit; -they are of no value to me whatever. But they will be to the poor, -especially in the hard times coming.” - -“Of course Lucina consents?” - -“Oh, no fear about that! I would not touch a grain of gold-dust without -her even wishing it. But why I require your assistance is principally -this. I should never be able to stand its being known that I presumed to -do any thing considered out of the way, especially in a boy. You -understand me? So I want you, and beg of you, to get the distribution -made at some other house; and as from a--say from one who needs much the -prayers of the faithful, especially the poor, and desires to remain -unknown.” - -“I will serve you with delight, my good and truly noble boy! Hush! did -you not hear the Lady Fabiola’s name just mentioned? There again, and -with an epithet expressive of no good will.” - -Pancratius approached the window; two voices were conversing together so -close under them that the cornice between prevented their seeing the -speakers, evidently a woman and a man. After a few minutes they walked -out into the moonlight, almost as bright as day. - -“I know that Moorish woman,” said Sebastian; “it is Fabiola’s black -slave, Afra.” - -“And the man,” added Pancratius, “is my late school-fellow, Corvinus.” - -They considered it their duty to catch, if possible, the thread of what -seemed a plot; but, as the speakers walked up and down, they could only -make out a sentence here and there. We will not, however, confine -ourselves to these parts, but give the entire dialogue. Only, a word -first about the interlocutors. - -Of the slave we know enough for the present. Corvinus was son, as we -have said, to Tertullus, originally prefect of the Prætorium. This -office, unknown in the republic, and of imperial creation, had, from the -reign of Tiberius, gradually absorbed almost all civil as well as -military power; and he who held it often discharged the duties of chief -criminal judge in Rome. It required no little strength of nerve to -occupy this post to the satisfaction of despotic and unsparing masters. -To sit all day in a tribunal, surrounded with hideous implements of -torture, unmoved by the moans or the shrieks of old men, youths, or -women, on whom they were tried; to direct a cool interrogatory to one -stretched upon the rack, and quivering in agony on one side, while the -last sentence of beating to death with bullet-laden scourges was being -executed on the other; to sleep calmly after such scenes, and rise with -appetite for their repetition, was not an occupation to which every -member of the bar could be supposed to aspire. Tertullus had been -brought from Sicily to fill the office, not because he was a cruel, but -because he was a cold-hearted, man, not susceptible of pity or -partiality. His tribunal, however, was Corvinus’s early school; he could -sit, while quite a boy, for hours at his father’s feet, thoroughly -enjoying the cruel spectacles before him, and angry when any one got -off. He grew up sottish, coarse, and brutal; and not yet arrived at -man’s estate, his bloated and freckled countenance and blear eyes, one -of which was half closed, announced him to be already a dissolute and -dissipated character. Without taste for any thing refined, or ability -for any learning, he united in himself a certain amount of animal -courage and strength, and a considerable measure of low cunning. He had -never experienced in himself a generous feeling, and he had never curbed -an evil passion. No one had ever offended him, whom he did not hate, and -pursue with vengeance. Two, above all, he had sworn never to -forgive--the school-master who had often chastised him for his sulky -idleness, and the school-fellow who had blessed him for his brutal -contumely. Justice and mercy, good and evil done to him, were equally -odious to him. - -Tertullus had no fortune to give him, and he seemed to have little -genius to make one. To become possessed of one, however, was -all-important to his mind; for wealth, as the means of gratifying his -desires, was synonymous with him to supreme felicity. A rich heiress, or -rather her dower, seemed the simplest object at which to aim. Too -awkward, shy, and stupid to make himself a way in society, he sought -other means, more kindred to his mind, for the attainment of his -ambitious or avaricious desires. What these means were, his conversation -with the black slave will best explain. - -“I have come to meet you at the Meta Sudans again, for the fourth time, -at this inconvenient hour. What news have you for me?” - -“None, except that after to-morrow my mistress starts for her villa at -Cajeta,[40] and of course I go with her. I shall want more money to -carry on my operations in your favor.” - -“More still? You have had all I have received from my father for -months.” - -“Why, do you know what Fabiola is?” - -“Yes, to be sure, the richest match in Rome.” - -“The haughty and cold-hearted Fabiola is not so easily to be won.” - -“But yet you promised me that your charms and potions would secure me -her acceptance, or at any rate her fortune. What expense can these -things cause?” - -[Illustration: The Appian Way, as it was.] - -“Very great indeed. The most precious ingredients are requisite, and -must be paid for. And do you think I will go out at such an hour as this -amidst the tombs of the Appian Way, to gather my simples, without being -properly rewarded? But how do you mean to second my efforts? I have told -you this would hasten their success.” - -“And how can I? You know I am not cut out by nature, or fitted by -accomplishments, to make much impression on any one’s affections. I -would rather trust to the power of your black art.” - -“Then let me give you one piece of advice; if you have no grace or gift -by which you can gain Fabiola’s heart----” - -“Fortune, you mean.” - -“They cannot be separated;--depend upon it, there is one thing which you -may bring with you that is irresistible.” - -“What is that?” - -“Gold.” - -“And where am I to get it? it is that I seek.” - -The black slave smiled maliciously, and said: - -“Why cannot you get it as Fulvius does?” - -“How does he get it?” - -“By blood!” - -“How do you know it?” - -“I have made acquaintance with an old attendant that he has, who, if not -as dark as I am in skin, fully makes up for it in his heart. His -language and mine are sufficiently allied for us to be able to converse. -He has asked me many questions about poisons, and pretended he would -purchase my liberty, and take me back home as his wife; but I have -something better than that in prospect, I trust. However, I got all that -I wanted out from him.” - -“And what was that?” - -“Why, that Fulvius had discovered a great conspiracy against Dioclesian; -and from the wink of the old man’s awful eye, I understood he had -hatched it first; and he has been sent with strong recommendations to -Rome to be employed in the same line.” - -“But I have no ability either to make or to discover conspiracies, -though I may have to punish them.” - -“One way, however, is easy.” - -“What is that?” - -“In my country there are large birds, which you may attempt in vain to -run down with the fleetest horses; but which, if you look about for them -quietly, are the first to betray themselves, for they only hide their -heads.” - -“What do you wish to represent by this?” - -“The Christians. Is there not going to be a persecution of them soon?” - -“Yes, and a most fierce one; such as has never been before.” - -“Then follow my advice. Do not tire yourself with hunting them down, and -catching, after all, but mean prey; keep your eyes open and look about -for one or two good fat ones, half trying to conceal themselves; pounce -upon them, get a good share of their confiscation, and come with one -good handful to get two in return.” - -“Thank you, thank you; I understand you. You are not fond of these -Christians, then?” - -“Fond of them? I hate the entire race. The spirits which I worship are -the deadly enemies of their very name.” And she grinned horrible a -ghastly smile as she proceeded: “I suspect one of my fellow-servants is -one. Oh, how I detest her!” - -“What makes you think it?” - -“In the first place, she would not tell a lie for anything, and gets us -all into dreadful scrapes by her absurd truthfulness.” - -“Good! what next?” - -“Then she cares not for money or gifts; and so prevents our having them -offered.” - -“Better!” - -“And moreover she is--” the last word died in the ear of Corvinus, who -replied: - -“Well, indeed, I have to-day been out of the gate to meet a caravan of -your countryfolk coming in; but you beat them all!” - -“Indeed!” exclaimed Afra with delight, “who were they?” - -“Simply Africans,”[41] replied Corvinus, with a laugh: “lions, panthers, -leopards.” - -“Wretch! do you insult me thus?” - -“Come, come, be pacified. They are brought expressly to rid you of your -hateful Christians. Let us part friends. Here is your money. But let it -be the last; and let me know when the philtres begin to work. I will not -forget your hint about Christian money. It is quite to my taste.” - -As he departed by the Sacred Way, she pretended to go along the Carinæ, -the street between the Palatine and the Cœlian mounts; then turned back, -and looking after him, exclaimed: “Fool! to think that I am going to try -experiments for you on a person of Fabiola’s character!” - -She followed him at a distance; but as Sebastian, to his amazement, -thought, turned into the vestibule of the palace. He determined at once -to put Fabiola on her guard against this new plot; but this could not be -done till her return from the country. - -[Illustration: Emblematic representation of Paradise, found in the -Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -OTHER MEETINGS. - - -When the two youths returned to the room by which they had entered the -apartment, they found the expected company assembled. A frugal repast -was laid upon the table, principally as a blind to any intruder who -might happen unexpectedly to enter. The assembly was large and varied, -containing clergy and laity, men and women. The purpose of the meeting -was to concert proper measures, in consequence of something which had -lately occurred in the palace. This we must briefly explain. - -Sebastian, enjoying the unbounded confidence of the emperor, employed -all his influence in propagating the Christian faith within the palace. -Numerous conversions had gradually been made; but shortly before this -period there had been a wholesale one effected, the particulars of which -are recorded in the genuine Acts of this glorious soldier. In virtue of -former laws, many Christians were seized and brought to trial, which -often ended in death. Two brothers, Marcus and Marcellianus, had been so -accused, and were expecting execution; when their friends, admitted to -see them, implored them with tears to save their lives by apostasy. They -seemed to waver; they promised to deliberate. Sebastian heard of this, -and rushed to save them. He was too well known to be refused -admittance, and he entered into their gloomy prison like an angel of -light. It consisted of a strong room in the house of the magistrate to -whose care they had been intrusted. The place of confinement was -generally left to that officer; and here Tranquillinus, the father of -the two youths, had obtained a respite for them of thirty days to try to -shake their constancy; and, to second his efforts, Nicostratus, the -magistrate, had placed them in custody in his own house. Sebastian’s was -a bold and perilous office. Besides the two Christian captives, there -were gathered in the place sixteen heathen prisoners; there were the -parents of the unfortunate youths weeping over them, and caressing them, -to allure them from their threatened doom; there was the gaoler, -Claudius, and there was the magistrate, Nicostratus, with his wife, Zoë, -drawn thither by the compassionate wish of seeing the youths snatched -from their fate. Could Sebastian hope, that of this crowd not one would -be found, whom a sense of official duty, or a hope of pardon, or hatred -of Christianity, might impel to betray him, if he avowed himself a -Christian? And did he not know that such a betrayal involved his death? - -[Illustration: Saint Sebastian, from the “Roma Sotteranea” of De Rossi.] - -He knew it well; but what cared he? If three victims would thus be -offered to God instead of two, so much the better; all that he dreaded -was, that there should be none. The room was a banqueting-hall but -seldom opened in the day, and consequently requiring very little light; -what it had, entered only, as in the Pantheon, by an opening in the -roof; and Sebastian, anxious to be seen by all, stood in the ray which -now darted through it, strong and brilliant where it beat, but leaving -the rest of the apartment almost dark. It broke against the gold and -jewels of his rich tribune’s armor, and, as he moved, scattered itself -in sparks of brilliant hues into the darkest recesses of that gloom; -while it beamed with serene steadiness upon his uncovered head, and -displayed his noble features, softened by an emotion of tender grief, as -he looked upon the two vacillating confessors. It was some moments -before he could give vent in words to the violence of his grief, till at -length it broke forth in impassioned tones. - -[Illustration: Military Tribunes, after a bas-relief on Trajan’s -Column.] - -“Holy and venerable brothers,” he exclaimed, “who have borne witness to -Christ; who are imprisoned for Him; whose limbs are marked by chains -worn for His sake; who have tasted torments with Him,--I ought to fall -at your feet and do you homage, and ask your prayers; instead of -standing before you as your exhorter, still less as your reprover. Can -this be true which I have heard, that while angels were putting the last -flower to your crowns, you have bid them pause, and even thought of -telling them to unweave them, and scatter their blossoms to the winds? -Can I believe that you who have already your feet on the threshold of -Paradise, are thinking of drawing them back, to tread once more the -valley of exile and of tears?” - -The two youths hung down their heads and wept in humble confession of -their weakness. Sebastian proceeded: - -“You cannot meet the eye of a poor soldier like me, the least of -Christ’s servants: how then will you stand the angry glance of the Lord -whom you are about to deny before men (but cannot in your hearts deny), -on that terrible day, when He, in return, will deny you before His -angels? When, instead of standing manfully before Him, like good and -faithful servants, as to-morrow ye might have done, you shall have to -come into His presence after having crawled through a few more years of -infamy, disowned by the Church, despised by its enemies, and, what is -worse, gnawed by an undying worm, and victims of a sleepless remorse?” - -“Cease; oh, in pity cease, young man, whoever thou art,” exclaimed -Tranquillinus, the father of the youths. “Speak not thus severely to my -sons; it was, I assure thee, to their mother’s tears and to my -entreaties that they had begun to yield, and not to the tortures which -they have endured with such fortitude. Why should they leave their -wretched parents to misery and sorrow? does thy religion command this, -and dost thou call it holy?” - -“Wait in patience, my good old man,” said Sebastian, with the kindest -look and accent, “and let me speak first with thy sons. They know what I -mean, which thou canst not yet; but with God’s grace thou too shalt -soon. Your father, indeed, is right in saying, that for his sake and -your mother’s you have been deliberating whether you should not prefer -them to Him who told you, ‘He that loveth father or mother more than Me, -is not worthy of Me.’ You cannot hope to purchase for these your aged -parents, eternal life by your own loss of it. Will you make them -Christians by abandoning Christianity? will you make them soldiers of -the Cross by deserting its standard? will you teach them that its -doctrines are more precious than life, by preferring life to them? Do -you want to gain for them, not the mortal life of the perishable body, -but the eternal life of the soul? then hasten yourselves to its -acquisition; throw down at the feet of your Saviour the crowns you will -receive, and entreat for your parents’ salvation.” - -“Enough, enough, Sebastian, we are resolved,” cried out together both -the brothers. - -“Claudius,” said one, “put on me again the chains you have taken off.” - -“Nicostratus,” added the other, “give orders for the sentence to be -carried out.” - -Yet neither Claudius nor Nicostratus moved. - -“Farewell, dear father; adieu, dearest mother,” they in turn said, -embracing their parents. - -“No,” replied the father, “we part no more. Nicostratus, go tell -Chromatius that I am from this moment a Christian with my sons; I will -die with them for a religion which can make heroes thus of boys.” “And -I,” continued the mother, “will not be separated from my husband and -children.” - -The scene which followed baffles description. All were moved; all wept; -the prisoners joined in the tumult of these new affections; and -Sebastian saw himself surrounded by a group of men and women smitten by -grace, softened by its influences, and subdued by its power; yet all was -lost if one remained behind. He saw the danger, not to himself, but to -the Church, if a sudden discovery were made, and to those souls -fluttering upon the confines of life. Some hung upon his arms; some -clasped his knees; some kissed his feet, as though he had been a spirit -of peace, such as visited Peter in his dungeon at Jerusalem. - -Two alone had expressed no thought. Nicostratus was indeed moved, but by -no means conquered. His feelings were agitated, but his convictions -unshaken. His wife, Zoë, knelt before Sebastian with a beseeching look -and outstretched arms, but she spoke not a word. - -“Come, Sebastian,” said the keeper of the records, for such was -Nicostratus’s office; “it is time for thee to depart. I cannot but -admire the sincerity of belief, and the generosity of heart, which can -make thee act as thou hast done, and which impel these young men to -death; but my duty is imperative, and must overweigh my private -feelings.” - -“And dost not thou believe with the rest?” - -“No, Sebastian, I yield not so easily; I must have stronger evidences -than even thy virtue.” - -“Oh, speak to him then, thou!” said Sebastian to Zoë; “speak, faithful -wife; speak to thy husband’s heart; for I am mistaken indeed, if those -looks of thine tell me not that _thou_ at least believest.” - -Zoë covered her face with her hands, and burst into a passion of tears. - -“Thou hast touched her to the quick, Sebastian,” said her husband; -“knowest thou not that she is dumb?” - -“I knew it not, noble Nicostratus; for when last I saw her in Asia she -could speak.” - -“For six years,” replied the other, with a faltering voice, “her once -eloquent tongue has been paralyzed, and she has not uttered a single -word.” - -Sebastian was silent for a moment; then suddenly he threw out his arms, -and stretched them forth, as the Christians always did in prayer, and -raised his eyes to heaven; then burst forth in these words: - -“O God! Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the beginning of this work is -Thine; let its accomplishment be Thine alone. Put forth Thy power, for -it is needed; intrust it for once to the weakest and poorest of -instruments. Let me, though most unworthy, so wield the sword of Thy -victorious Cross, as that the spirits of darkness may fly before it, and -Thy salvation may embrace us all! Zoë, look up once more to me.” - -All were hushed in silence, when Sebastian, after a moment’s silent -prayer, with his right hand made over her mouth the sign of the cross, -saying: “Zoë, speak; dost thou believe?” - -“I believe in the Lord Jesus Christ,” she replied, in a clear and firm -voice, and fell upon Sebastian’s feet. - -It was almost a shriek that Nicostratus uttered, as he threw himself on -his knees, and bathed Sebastian’s right hand with tears. - -The victory was complete. Every one was gained; and immediate steps were -taken to prevent discovery. The person responsible for the prisoners -could take them where he wished; and Nicostratus transferred them all, -with Tranquillinus and his wife, to the full liberty of his house. -Sebastian lost no time in putting them under the care of the holy priest -Polycarp, of the title of St. Pastor. It was a case so peculiar, and -requiring such concealment, and the times were so threatening, and all -new irritations had so much to be avoided, that the instruction was -hurried, and continued night and day: so that baptism was quickly -administered. - -The new Christian flock was encouraged and consoled by a fresh wonder. -Tranquillinus, who was suffering severely from the gout, was restored to -instant and complete health by baptism. Chromatius was the prefect of -the city, to whom Nicostratus was liable for his prisoners; and this -officer could not long conceal from him what had happened. It was indeed -a matter of life or death to them all; but, strengthened now by faith, -they were prepared for either. Chromatius was a man of upright -character, and not fond of persecution; and listened with interest to -the account of what had occurred. But when he heard of Tranquillinus’s -cure, he was greatly struck. He was himself a victim to the same -disease, and suffered agonies of pain. “If,” he said, “what you relate -be true, and if I can have personal experience of this healing power, I -certainly will not resist its evidence.” - -Sebastian was sent for. To have administered baptism without faith -preceding, as an experiment of its healing virtue, would have been a -superstition. Sebastian took another course, which will be later -described, and Chromatius completely recovered. He received baptism soon -after, with his son Tibertius. - -It was clearly impossible for him to continue in his office, and he had -accordingly resigned it to the emperor. Tertullus, the father of the -hopeful Corvinus, and prefect of the Prætorium, had been named his -successor; so the reader will perceive that the events just related from -the Acts of St. Sebastian, had occurred a little before our narrative -begins; for in an early chapter we spoke of Corvinus’s father as already -prefect of the city. - -Let us now come down again to the evening in which Sebastian and -Pancratius met most of the persons above enumerated in the officer’s -chamber. Many of them resided in, or about, the palace; and besides them -were present Castulus, who held a high situation at court,[42] and his -wife Irene. Several previous meetings had been held, to decide upon some -plan for securing the completer instruction of the converts, and for -withdrawing from observation so many persons, whose change of life and -retirement from office would excite wonder and inquiry. Sebastian had -obtained permission from the emperor for Chromatius to retire to a -country-house in Campania; and it had been arranged that a considerable -number of the neophytes should join him there, and, forming one -household, should go on with religious instruction, and unite in common -offices of piety. The season was come when every body retired to the -country, and the emperor himself was going to the coast of Naples, and -thence would take a journey to southern Italy. It was therefore a -favorable moment for carrying out the preconcerted plan. Indeed the -Pope, we are told, on the Sunday following this conversion, celebrated -the divine mysteries in the house of Nicostratus, and proposed this -withdrawal from the city. - -[Illustration: The Roman Forum.] - -At this meeting all details were arranged; different parties were to -start, in the course of the following days, by various roads--some -direct by the Appian, some along the Latin, others round by Tibur and a -mountain road, through Arpinum; but all were to meet at the villa, not -far from Capua. Through the whole discussion of these somewhat tedious -arrangements, Torquatus, one of the former prisoners, converted by -Sebastian’s visit, showed himself forward, impatient, and impetuous. He -found fault with every plan, seemed discontented with the directions -given him, spoke almost contemptuously of this flight from danger, as he -called it; and boasted that, for his part, he was ready to go into the -Forum on the morrow, and overthrow any altar, or confront any judge, as -a Christian. Every thing was said and done to soothe, and even to cool -him; and it was felt to be most important that he should be taken with -the rest into the country. He insisted, however, upon going his own way. - -Only one more point remained to be decided: it was, who should head the -little colony, and direct its operations. Here was renewed a contest of -love between the holy priest Polycarp and Sebastian; each wishing to -remain in Rome, and have the first chance of martyrdom. But now the -difference was cut short by a letter brought in, from the Pope, -addressed to his “Beloved son Polycarp, priest of the title of St. -Pastor,” in which he commanded him to accompany the converts, and leave -Sebastian to the arduous duty of encouraging confessors, and protecting -Christians in Rome. To hear was to obey; and the meeting broke up with a -prayer of thanksgiving. - -Sebastian, after bidding affectionate farewell to his friends, insisted -upon accompanying Pancratius home. As they were leaving the room, the -latter remarked, “Sebastian, I do not like that Torquatus. I fear he -will give us trouble.” - -“To tell the truth,” answered the soldier, “I would rather he were -different; but we must remember that he is a neophyte, and will improve -in time, and by grace.” - -As they passed into the entrance-court of the palace, they heard a Babel -of uncouth sounds, with coarse laughter and occasional yells, proceeding -from the adjoining yard, in which were the quarters of the Mauritanian -archers. A fire seemed to be blazing in the midst of it, for the smoke -and sparks rose above the surrounding porticoes. - -Sebastian accosted the sentinel in the court where they were, and asked: -“Friend, what is going on there among our neighbors?” - -“The black slave,” he replied, “who is their priestess, and who is -betrothed to their captain, if she can purchase her freedom, has come in -for some midnight rites, and this horrid turmoil takes place every time -she comes.” - -“Indeed!” said Pancratius, “and can you tell me what is the religion -these Africans follow?” - -“I do not know, sir,” replied the legionary, “unless they be what are -called Christians.” - -“What makes you think so?” - -“Why, I have heard that the Christians meet by night, and sing -detestable songs, and commit all sorts of crimes; and cook and eat the -flesh of a child murdered for the purpose[43]--just what might seem to -be going on here.” - -“Good night, comrade,” said Sebastian; and then exclaimed, as they were -issuing from the vestibule, “Is it not strange, Pancratius, that, in -spite of all our efforts, we who are conscious that we worship only the -One living God in spirit and truth, who know what care we take to keep -ourselves undefiled by sin, and who would die rather than speak an -unclean word, should yet, after 300 years, be confounded by the people -with the followers of the most degraded superstitions, and have our -worship ranked with the very idolatry, which above all things we abhor? -‘How long, O Lord! how long?’” - -“So long,” said Pancratius, pausing on the steps outside the vestibule, -and looking at the now declining moon, “so long as we shall continue to -walk in this pale light, and until the Sun of Justice shall rise upon -our country in His beauty, and enrich it with His splendor. Sebastian, -tell me, whence do you best like to see the sun rise?” - -“The most lovely sunrise I have ever seen,” replied the soldier, as if -humoring his companion’s fanciful question, “was from the top of the -Latial mountain,[44] by the temple of Jupiter. The sun rose behind the -mountain, and projected its huge shadow like a pyramid over the plain, -and far upon the sea; then, as it rose higher, this lessened and -withdrew; and every moment some new object caught the light, first the -galleys and skiffs upon the water, then the shore with its dancing -waves; and by degrees one white edifice after the other sparkled in the -fresh beams, till at last majestic Rome itself, with its towering -pinnacles, basked in the effulgence of day. It was a glorious sight, -indeed; such as could not have been witnessed or imagined by those -below.” - -“Just what I should have expected, Sebastian,” observed Pancratius; “and -so it will be when that more brilliant sun rises fully upon this -benighted country. How beautiful will it then be to behold the shades -retiring, and each moment one and another of the charms, as yet -concealed, of our holy faith and worship starting into light, till the -imperial city itself shines forth a holy type of the city of God. Will -they who live in those times see these beauties, and worthily value -them? Or, will they look only at the narrow space around them, and hold -their hands before their eyes, to shade them from the sudden glare? I -know not, dear Sebastian, but I hope that you and I will look down upon -that grand spectacle, from where alone it can be duly appreciated, from -a mountain higher than Jupiter’s, be he Alban or be he -Olympian,--dwelling on that holy mount, whereon stands the Lamb, from -whose feet flow the streams of life.”[45] - -They continued their walk in silence through the brilliantly-lighted -streets;[46] and when they had reached Lucina’s house, and had -affectionately bid one another good-night, Pancratius seemed to hesitate -a moment, and then said: - -“Sebastian, you said something this evening, which I should much like to -have explained.” - -“What was it?” - -“When you were contending with Polycarp, about going into Campania, or -remaining in Rome, you promised that if you stayed you would be most -cautious, and not expose yourself to unnecessary risks; then you added, -that there was one purpose in your mind which would effectually restrain -you; but that when that was accomplished, you would find it difficult to -check your longing ardor to give your life for Christ.” - -“And why, Pancratius, do you desire so much to know this foolish thought -of mine?” - -“Because I own I am really curious to learn what can be the object high -enough to check in you the aspiration, after what I know you consider to -be the very highest of a Christian’s aim.” - -“I am sorry, my dear boy, that it is not in my power to tell you now. -But you shall know it sometime.” - -“Do you promise me?” - -“Yes, most solemnly. God bless you!” - -[Illustration: A Lamb with a Milk-can, found in the Catacomb of SS. -Peter and Marcellin.] - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -A TALK WITH THE READER. - - -We will take advantage of the holiday which Rome is enjoying, sending -out its inhabitants to the neighboring hills, or to the whole line of -sea-coast from Genoa to Pæstum, for amusement on land and water: and, in -a merely didactic way, endeavor to communicate to our reader some -information, which may throw light on what we have already written, and -prepare him for what will follow. - -From the very compressed form in which the early history of the Church -is generally studied, and from the unchronological arrangement of the -saints’ biographies, as we usually read them, we may easily be led to an -erroneous idea of the state of our first Christian ancestors. This may -happen in two different ways. - -We may come to imagine, that during the first three centuries the Church -was suffering unrespited, under active persecution; that the faithful -worshipped in fear and trembling, and almost lived in the catacombs; -that bare existence, with scarcely an opportunity for outward -development or inward organization, none for splendor, was all that -religion could enjoy; that, in fine, it was a period of conflict and of -tribulation, without an interval of peace or consolation. On the other -hand, we may suppose, that those three centuries were divided into -epochs by ten distinct persecutions, some of longer and some of shorter -duration, but definitely separated from one another by breathing times -of complete rest. - -Either of these views is erroneous; and we desire to state more -accurately the real condition of the Christian Church, under the various -circumstances of that most pregnant portion of her history. - -When once persecution had broken loose upon the Church, it may be said -never entirely to have relaxed its hold, till her final pacification -under Constantine. An edict of persecution once issued by an emperor was -seldom recalled; and though the rigor of its enforcement might gradually -relax or cease, through the accession of a milder ruler, still it never -became completely a dead letter, but was a dangerous weapon in the hands -of a cruel or bigoted governor of a city or province. Hence, in the -intervals between the greater general persecutions, ordered by a new -decree, we find many martyrs, who owed their crowns either to popular -fury, or to the hatred of Christianity in local rulers. Hence also we -read of a bitter persecution being carried on in one part of the empire, -while other portions enjoyed complete peace. - -Perhaps a few examples of the various phases of persecution will -illustrate the real relations of the primitive Church with the State, -better than mere description; and the more learned reader can pass over -this digression, or must have the patience to hear repeated, what he is -so familiar with, that it will seem commonplace. - -Trajan was by no means one of the cruel emperors; on the contrary, he -was habitually just and merciful. Yet, though he published no new edicts -against the Christians, many noble martyrs--amongst them St. Ignatius, -bishop of Antioch, at Rome, and St. Simeon at Jerusalem--glorified their -Lord in his reign. Indeed, when Pliny the younger consulted him on the -manner in which he should deal with - -[Illustration: St. Ignatius, bishop of Antioch.] - -Christians, who might be brought before him as governor of Bithynia, the -emperor gave him a rule which exhibits the lowest standard of justice: -that they were not to be sought out; but if accused, they were to be -punished. Adrian, who issued no decree of persecution, gave a similar -reply to a similar question from Serenius Granianus, pro-consul of Asia. -And under him, too, and even by his own orders, cruel martyrdom was -suffered by the intrepid Symphorosa and her seven sons at Tibur, or -Tivoli. A beautiful inscription found in the catacombs mentions Marius, -a young officer, who shed his blood for Christ under this emperor.[47] -Indeed, St. Justin Martyr, the great apologist of Christianity, informs -us that he owed his conversion to the constancy of the martyrs under -this emperor. - -In like manner, before the Emperor Septimus Severus had published his -persecuting edicts, many Christians had suffered torments and death. -Such were the celebrated martyrs of Scillita in Africa, and SS. Perpetua -and Felicitas, with their companions; the Acts of whose martyrdom, -containing the diary of the first noble lady, twenty years of age, -brought down by herself to the eve of her death, form one of the most -touching, and exquisitely beautiful, documents preserved to us from the -ancient Church. - -From these historical facts it will be evident, that while there was -from time to time a more active, severe, and general persecution of the -Christian name all through the empire, there were partial and local -cessations, and sometimes even a general suspension, of its rigor. An -occurrence of this sort has secured for us most interesting information, -connected with our subject. When the persecution of Severus had relaxed -in other parts, it happened that Scapula, pro-consul of Africa, -prolonged it in his province with unrelenting cruelty. He had condemned, -among others, Mavilus of Adrumetum to be devoured by beasts, when he was -seized with a severe illness. Tertullian, the oldest Christian Latin -writer, addressed a letter to him, in which he bids him take warning -from this visitation, and repent of his crimes; reminding him of many -judgments which had befallen cruel judges of the Christians, in various -parts of the world. Yet such was the charity of those holy men, that he -tells him they were offering up earnest prayers for their enemy’s -recovery! - -He then goes on to inform him, that he may very well fulfil his duties -without practising cruelty, by acting as other magistrates had done. -For instance, Cincius Severus suggested to the accused the answers they -should make, to be acquitted. Vespronius Candidus dismissed a Christian, -on the ground that his condemnation would encourage tumults. Asper, -seeing one ready to yield upon the application of slight torments, would -not press him further; and expressed regret that such a case should have -been brought before him. Pudens, on reading an act of accusation, -declared the title informal, because calumnious, and tore it up. - -We thus see how much might depend upon the temper, and perhaps the -tendencies, of governors and judges, in the enforcing even of imperial -edicts of persecution. And St. Ambrose tells us that some governors -boasted that they had brought back from their provinces their swords -unstained with blood (_incruentos enses_). - -We can also easily understand how, at any particular time, a savage -persecution might rage in Gaul, or Africa, or Asia, while the main part -of the Church was enjoying peace. But Rome was undoubtedly the place -most subject to frequent outbreaks of the hostile spirit; so that it -might be considered as the privilege of its pontiffs, during the first -three centuries, to bear the witness of blood to the faith which they -taught. To be elected Pope was equivalent to being promoted to -martyrdom. - -At the period of our narrative, the Church was in one of those longer -intervals of comparative peace, which gave opportunity for great -development. From the death of Valerian, in 268, there had been no new -formal persecution, though the interval is glorified by many noble -martyrdoms. During such periods, the Christians were able to carry out -their religious system with completeness, and even with splendor. The -city was divided into districts or parishes, each having its title, or -church, served by priests, deacons, and inferior ministers. The poor -were supported, the sick visited, catechumens instructed; the -Sacraments were administered, daily worship was practised, and the -penitential canons were enforced by the clergy of each title; and -collections were made for these purposes, and others connected with -religious charity, and its consequence, hospitality. It is recorded, -that in 250, during the pontificate of Cornelius, there were in Rome -forty-six priests, a hundred and fifty-four inferior ministers, who were -supported by the alms of the faithful, together with fifteen hundred -poor.[48] This number of the priests pretty nearly corresponds to that -of the titles, which St. Optatus tells us there were in Rome. - -Although the tombs of the martyrs in the catacombs continued to be -objects of devotion during these more peaceful intervals, and these -asylums of the persecuted were kept in order and repair, they did not -then serve for the ordinary places of worship. The churches to which we -have already alluded were often public, large, and even splendid; and -heathens used to be present at the sermons delivered in them, and such -portions of the liturgy as were open to catechumens. But generally they -were in private houses, probably made out of the large halls, or -_triclinia_, which the nobler mansions contained. Thus we know that many -of the titles in Rome were originally of that character. Tertullian -mentions Christian cemeteries under a name, and with circumstances, -which show that they were above ground, for he compares them to -“threshing-floors,” which were necessarily exposed to the air. - -A custom of ancient Roman life will remove an objection which may arise, -as to how considerable multitudes could assemble in these places without -attracting attention, and consequently persecution. It was usual for -what may be called a levée to be held every morning by the rich, -attended by dependents, or clients, and messengers from their friends, -either slaves or freedmen, some of whom were admitted into - -[Illustration: The Sacrament of Penance, in the Early Ages of the -Church.] - -the inner court, to the master’s presence, while others only presented -themselves, and were dismissed. Hundreds might thus go in and out of a -great house, in addition to the crowd of domestic slaves, tradespeople -and others who had access to it, through the principal or the back -entrance, and little or no notice would be taken of the circumstance. - -There is another important phenomenon in the social life of the early -Christians, which one would hardly know how to believe, were not -evidence of it brought before us in the most authentic Acts of the -martyrs, and in ecclesiastical history. It is, the concealment which -they contrived to practise. No doubt can be entertained, that persons -were moving in the highest society, were occupying conspicuous public -situations, were near the persons of the emperors, who were Christians; -and yet were not suspected to be such by their most intimate heathen -friends. Nay, cases occurred where the nearest relations were kept in -total ignorance on this subject. No lie, no dissembling, no action -especially, inconsistent with Christian morality or Christian truth, was -ever permitted to ensure such secrecy. But every precaution compatible -with complete uprightness was taken to conceal Christianity from the -public eye.[49] - -However necessary this prudential course might be, to prevent any wanton -persecution, its consequences fell often heavily upon those who held it. -The heathen world, the world of power, of influence, and of state, the -world which made laws as best suited it, and executed them, the world -that loved earthly prosperity and hated faith, felt itself surrounded, -filled, compenetrated by a mysterious system, which spread, no one could -see how, and exercised an influence derived no one knew whence. Families -were startled at finding a son or daughter to have embraced this new -law, with which they were not aware that they had been in contact, and -which, in their heated fancies and popular views, they considered -stupid, grovelling, and anti-social. Hence the hatred of Christianity -was political as well as religious; the system was considered as -un-Roman, as having an interest opposed to the extension and prosperity -of the empire, and as obeying an unseen and spiritual power. The -Christians were pronounced _irreligiosi in Cæsares_, “disloyal to the -emperors,” and that was enough. Hence their security and peace depended -much upon the state of popular feeling; when any demagogue or fanatic -could succeed in rousing this, neither their denial of the charges -brought against them, nor their peaceful demeanor, nor the claims of -civilized life, could suffice to screen them from such measure of -persecution as could be safely urged against them. - -After these digressive remarks, we will resume, and unite again the -broken thread of our narrative. - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ.] - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE WOLF AND THE FOX. - - -The hints of the African slave had not been thrown away upon the sordid -mind of Corvinus. Her own hatred of Christianity arose from the -circumstance, that a former mistress of hers had become a Christian and -had manumitted all her other slaves; but, feeling it wrong to turn so -dangerous a character as Afra, or rather Jubala (her proper name), upon -the world, had transferred her to another proprietor. - -Corvinus had often seen Fulvius at the baths and other places of public -resort, had admired and envied him, for his appearance, his dress, his -conversation. But with his untoward shyness, or moroseness, he could -never have found courage to address him, had he not now discovered, that -though a more refined, he was not a less profound, villain than himself. -Fulvius’s wit and cleverness might supply the want of these qualities in -his own sottish composition, while his own brute force, and unfeeling -recklessness, might be valuable auxiliaries to those higher gifts. He -had the young stranger in his power, by the discovery which he had made -of his real character. He determined, therefore, to make an effort, and -enter into alliance with one who otherwise might prove a dangerous -rival. - -It was about ten days after the meeting last described, that Corvinus -went to stroll in Pompey’s gardens. These covered the space round his -theatre, in the neighborhood of the present Piazza Farnese. A -conflagration in the reign of Carinus had lately destroyed the scene, as -it was called, of the edifice, and Dioclesian had repaired it with great -magnificence. The gardens were distinguished from others by rows of -plane-trees, which formed a delicious shade. Statues of wild beasts, -fountains, and artificial brooks, profusely adorned them. While -sauntering about, Corvinus caught a sight of Fulvius, and made up to -him. - -[Illustration: Roman Gardens, from an old painting.] - -“What do you want with me?” asked the foreigner, with a look of surprise -and scorn at the slovenly dress of Corvinus. - -“To have a talk with you, which may turn out to your advantage--and -mine.” - -“What can you propose to me, with the first of these recommendations? No -doubt at all as to the second.” - -“Fulvius, I am a plain-spoken man, and have no pretensions to your -cleverness and elegance; but we are both of one trade, and both -consequently of one mind.” - -Fulvius started, and deeply colored; then said, with a contemptuous air, -“What do you mean, sirrah?” - -“If you double your fist,” rejoined Corvinus, “to show me the fine rings -on your delicate fingers, it is very well. But if you mean to threaten -by it, you may as well put your hand again into the folds of your toga. -It is more graceful.” - -“Cut this matter short, sir. Again I ask, what do you mean?” - -“This, Fulvius,” and he whispered into his ear, “that you are a spy and -an informer.” - -Fulvius was staggered; then rallying, said, “What right have you to make -such an odious charge against me?” - -“You _discovered_” (with a strong emphasis) “a conspiracy in the East, -and Dioclesian--” - -Fulvius stopped him, and asked, “What is your name, and who are you?” - -“I am Corvinus, the son of Tertullus, prefect of the city.” - -This seemed to account for all; and Fulvius said, in subdued tones, “No -more here; I see friends coming. Meet me disguised at daybreak to-morrow -in the Patrician Street,[50] under the portico of the Baths of Novatus. -We will talk more at leisure.” - -Corvinus returned home, not ill-satisfied with his first attempt at -diplomacy; he procured a garment shabbier than his own from one of his -father’s slaves, and was at the appointed spot by the first dawn of day. -He had to wait a long time, and had almost lost patience, when he saw -his new friend approach. - -Fulvius was well wrapped up in a large overcoat, and wore its hood over -his face. He thus saluted Corvinus: - -“Good morning, comrade; I fear I have kept you waiting in the cold -morning air, especially as you are thinly clad.” - -“I own,” replied Corvinus, “that I should have been tired, had I not -been immensely amused and yet puzzled, by what I have been observing.” - -“What is that?” - -“Why, from an early hour, long, I suspect, before my coming, there have -been arriving here from every side, and entering into that house, by the -back door in the narrow street, the rarest collection of miserable -objects that you ever saw; the blind, the lame, the maimed, the -decrepit, the deformed of every possible shape; while by the front door -several persons have entered, evidently of a different class.” - -“Whose dwelling is it, do you know? It looks a large old house, but -rather out of condition.” - -“It belongs to a very rich, and, it is said, very miserly old patrician. -But look! there come some more.” - -At that moment a very feeble man, bent down by age, was approaching, -supported by a young and cheerful girl, who chatted most kindly to him -as she supported him. - -“We are just there,” she said to him; “a few more steps, and you shall -sit down and rest.” - -“Thank you, my child,” replied the poor old man, “how kind of you to -come for me so early!” - -“I knew,” she said, “you would want help; and as I am the most useless -person about, I thought I would go and fetch you.” - -“I have always heard that blind people are selfish, and it seems but -natural; but you, Cæcilia, are certainly an exception.” - -“Not at all; this is only _my_ way of showing selfishness.” - -“How do you mean?” - -“Why, first, I get the advantage of your eyes, and then I get the -satisfaction of supporting you. ‘I was an eye to the blind,’ that is -you; and ‘a foot to the lame,’ that is myself.”[51] - -They reached the door as she spoke these words. - -“That girl is blind,” said Fulvius to Corvinus. “Do you not see how -straight she walks, without looking right or left?” - -“So she is,” answered the other. “Surely this is not the place so often -spoken of, where beggars meet, and the blind see, and the lame walk, -and all feast together? But yet I observed these people were so -different from the mendicants on the Arician bridge.[52] They appeared -respectable and even cheerful; and not one asked me for alms as he -passed.” - -“It is very strange; and I should like to discover the mystery. A good -job might, perhaps, be got out of it. The old patrician, you say, is -very rich?” - -“Immensely!” - -“Humph! How could one manage to get in?” - -“I have it! I will take off my shoes, screw up one leg like a cripple, -and join the next group of queer ones that come, and go boldly in, doing -as they do.” - -“That will hardly succeed; depend upon it every one of these people is -known at the house.” - -“I am sure not, for several of them asked me if this was the house of -the Lady Agnes.” - -“Of whom?” asked Fulvius, with a start. - -“Why do you look so?” said Corvinus. “It is the house of her parents: -but she is better known than they, as being a young heiress, nearly as -rich as her cousin Fabiola.” - -Fulvius paused for a moment; a strong suspicion, too subtle and -important to be communicated to his rude companion, flashed through his -mind. He said, therefore, to Corvinus: - -“If you are sure that these people are not familiar at the house, try -your plan. I have met the lady before, and will venture by the front -door. Thus we shall have a double chance.” - -“Do you know what I am thinking, Fulvius?” - -“Something very bright, no doubt.” - -“That when you and I join in any enterprise, we shall _always_ have two -chances.” - -“What are they?” - -“The fox’s and the wolf’s, when they conspire to rob a fold.” - -Fulvius cast on him a look of disdain, which Corvinus returned by a -hideous leer; and they separated for their respective posts. - -[Illustration: A Lamp, with the Monogram of Christ.] - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -CHARITY. - - -As we do not choose to enter the house of Agnes, either with the wolf or -with the fox, we will take a more spiritual mode of doing so, and find -ourselves at once inside. - -The parents of Agnes represented noble lines of ancestry, and her family -was not one of recent conversion, but had for several generations -professed the faith. As in heathen families was cherished the memory of -ancestors who had won a triumph, or held high offices in the state, so -in this, and other Christian houses, was preserved with pious reverence -and affectionate pride, the remembrance of those relations who had, in -the last hundred and fifty years or more, borne the palm of martyrdom, -or occupied the sublimer dignities of the Church. But, though ennobled -thus, and with a constant stream of blood poured forth for Christ, -accompanying the waving branches of the family-tree, the stem had never -been hewn down, but had survived repeated storms. This may appear -surprising; but when we reflect how many a soldier goes through a whole -campaign of frequent actions and does not receive a wound; or how many a -family remains untainted through a plague, we cannot be surprised if -Providence watched over the well-being of the Church, by preserving in -it, through old family successions, long unbroken chains of tradition, -and so enabling the faithful to say: “Unless the Lord of Hosts had left -us seed, we had been as Sodom, and we should have been like to -Gomorrha.”[53] - -All the honors and the hopes of this family centred now in one, whose -name is already known to our readers, Agnes, the only child of that -ancient house. Given to her parents as they had reached the very verge -of hope that their line could be continued, she had been from infancy -blest with such a sweetness of disposition, such a docility and -intelligence of mind, and such simplicity and innocence of character, -that she had grown up the common object of love, and almost of -reverence, to the entire house, from her parents down to the lowest -servant. Yet nothing seemed to spoil, or warp, the compact virtuousness -of her nature; but her good qualities expanded, with a well-balanced -adjustment, which at the early age in which we find her, had ripened -into combined grace and wisdom. She shared all her parents’ virtuous -thoughts, and cared as little for the world as they. She lived with them -in a small portion of the mansion, which was fitted up with elegance, -though not with luxury; and their establishment was adequate to all -their wants. Here they received the few friends with whom they preserved -familiar relations; though, as they did not entertain, nor go out, these -were few. Fabiola was an occasional visitor, though Agnes preferred -going to see her at her house; and she often expressed to her young -friend her longing for the day, when, meeting with a suitable match, she -would re-embellish and open all the splendid dwelling. For, -notwithstanding the Voconian law “on the inheritance of women,”[54] now -quite obsolete, Agnes had received, from collateral sources, large -personal additions to the family property. - -In general, of course, the heathen world, who visited, attributed -appearances to avarice, and calculated what immense accumulations of -wealth the miserly parents must be putting by; and concluded that all -beyond the solid screen which shut up the second court, was left to fall -into decay and ruin. - -It was not so, however. The inner part of the house, consisting of a -large court, and the garden, with a detached dining-hall, or triclinium, -turned into a church, and the upper portion of the house, accessible -from those parts, were devoted to the administration of that copious -charity, which the Church carried on as a _business_ of its life. It was -under the care and direction of the deacon Reparatus, and his exorcist -Secundus, officially appointed by the supreme Pontiff to take care of -the sick, poor, and strangers, in one of the seven regions into which -Pope Cajus, about five years before, had divided the city for this -purpose; committing each region to one of the seven deacons of the Roman -Church. - -[Illustration: A deacon, from De Rossi’s “Roma Sotteranea.”] - -Rooms were set apart for lodging strangers who came from a distance, -recommended by other churches; and a frugal table was provided for them. -Upstairs were apartments for an hospital for the bed-ridden, the -decrepit, and the sick, under the care of the deaconesses, and such of -the faithful as loved to assist in this work of charity. It was here -that the blind girl had her cell, though she refused to take her food, -as we have seen, in the house. The _tablinum_, or muniment-room, which -generally stood detached in the middle of the passage between the inner -courts, served as the office and archives for transacting the business -of this charitable establishment, and preserving all local documents, -such as the acts of martyrs, procured or compiled by the one of the -seven notaries kept for that purpose, by institution of St. Clement I., -who was attached to that region. - -A door of communication allowed the household to assist in these works -of charity; and Agnes had been accustomed from childhood to run in and -out, many times a day, and to pass hours there; always beaming, like an -angel of light, consolation and joy on the suffering and distressed. -This house, then, might be called the almonry of the region, or -district, of charity and hospitality in which it was situated, and it -was accessible for these purposes through the _posticum_ or back door, -situated in a narrow lane little frequented. No wonder that with such an -establishment, the fortune of the inmates should find an easy -application. - -We heard Pancratius request Sebastian, to arrange for the distribution -of his plate and jewels among the poor, without its being known to whom -they belonged. He had not lost sight of the commission, and had fixed on -the house of Agnes as the fittest for this purpose. On the morning which -we have described the distribution had to take place; other regions had -sent their poor, accompanied by their deacons; while Sebastian, -Pancratius, and other persons of higher rank had come in through the -front door, to assist in the division. Some of these had been seen to -enter by Corvinus. - -[Illustration: A Fish carrying Bread and Wine, from the Cemetery of St. -Lucina.] - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -EXTREMES MEET. - - -A group of poor coming opportunely towards the door, enabled Corvinus to -tack himself to them,--an admirable counterfeit, in all but the modesty -of their deportment. He kept sufficiently close to them to hear that -each of them, as he entered in, pronounced the words, “_Deo gratias_,” -“Thanks be to God.” This was not merely a Christian, but a Catholic -pass-word; for St. Augustine tells us that heretics ridiculed Catholics -for using it, on the ground that it was not a salutation but rather a -reply; but that Catholics employed it, because consecrated by pious -usage. It is yet heard in Italy on similar occasions. - -Corvinus pronounced the mystic words, and was allowed to pass. Following -the others closely, and copying their manners and gestures, he found -himself in the inner court of the house, which was already filled with -the poor and infirm. The men were ranged on one side, the women on the -other. Under the portico at the end were tables piled with costly plate, -and near them was another covered with brilliant jewelry. Two silver and -goldsmiths were weighing and valuing most conscientiously this property; -and beside them was the money which they would give, to be distributed -amongst the poor, in just proportion. - -Corvinus eyed all this with a gluttonous heart. He would have given -anything to get it all, and almost thought of making a dash at -something, and running out. But he saw at once the folly or madness of -such a course, and resolved to wait for a share, and in the meantime -take note for Fulvius of all he saw. He soon, however, became aware of -the awkwardness of his present position. While the poor were all mixed -up together and moving about, he remained unnoticed. But he soon saw -several young men of peculiarly gentle manners, but active, and -evidently in authority, dressed in the garment known to him by the name -of Dalmatic, from its Dalmatian origin; that is, having over the tunic, -instead of the toga, a close-fitting shorter tunicle, with ample, but -not over long or wide sleeves; the dress adopted and worn by the -deacons, not only at their more solemn ministrations in church, but also -when engaged in the discharge of their secondary duties about the sick -and poor. - -These officers went on marshalling the attendants, each evidently -knowing those of his own district, and conducting them to a peculiar -spot within the porticoes. But as no one recognized or claimed Corvinus -for one of his poor, he was at length left alone in the middle of the -court. Even his dull mind could feel the anomalous situation into which -he had thrust himself. Here he was, the son of the prefect of the city, -whose duty it was to punish such violators of domestic rights, an -intruder into the innermost parts of a nobleman’s house, having entered -by a cheat, dressed like a beggar, and associating himself with such -people, of course for some sinister, or at least unlawful, purpose. He -looked towards the door, meditating an escape; but he saw it guarded by -an old man named Diogenes and his two stout sons, who could hardly -restrain their hot blood at this insolence, though they only showed it -by scowling looks, and repressive biting of their lips. He saw that he -was a subject of consultation among the young deacons, who cast -occasional glances towards him; he imagined that even the blind were -staring at him, and the decrepit ready to wield their crutches like -battle-axes against him. He had only one consolation; it was evident he -was not known, and he hoped to frame some excuse for getting out of the -scrape. - -At length the Deacon Reparatus came up to him, and thus courteously -accosted him: - -“Friend, you probably do not belong to one of the regions invited here -to-day. Where do you live?” - -“In the region of the Alta Semita.”[55] - -This answer gave the civil, not the ecclesiastical, division of Rome; -still Reparatus went on: “The Alta Semita is in my region, yet I do not -remember to have seen you.” - -While he spoke these words, he was astonished to see the stranger turn -deadly pale, and totter as if about to fall, while his eyes were fixed -upon the door of communication with the dwelling-house. Reparatus looked -in the same direction, and saw Pancratius, just entered, and gathering -some hasty information from Secundus. Corvinus’s last hope was gone. He -stood the next moment confronted with the youth (who asked Reparatus to -retire), much in the same position as they had last met in, only that, -instead of a circle round him of applauders and backers, he was here -hemmed in on all sides by a multitude who evidently looked with -preference upon his rival. Nor could Corvinus help observing the -graceful development and manly bearing, which a few weeks had given his -late school-mate. He expected a volley of keen reproach, and, perhaps, -such chastisement as he would himself have inflicted in similar -circumstances. What was his amazement when Pancratius thus addressed him -in the mildest tone: - -“Corvinus, are you really reduced to distress and lamed by some -accident? Or how have you left your father’s house?” - -“Not quite come to that yet, I hope,” replied the bully, encouraged to -insolence by the gentle address, “though, no doubt, you would be -heartily glad to see it.” - -“By no means, I assure you; I hold you no grudge. If, therefore, you -require relief, tell me; and though it is not right that you should be -here, I can take you into a private chamber where you can receive it -unknown.” - -“Then I will tell you the truth: I came in here merely for a freak; and -I should be glad if you could get me quietly out.” - -“Corvinus,” said the youth, with some sternness, “this is a serious -offence. What would your father say, if I desired these young men, who -would instantly obey, to take you as you are, barefoot, clothed as a -slave, counterfeiting a cripple, into the Forum before his tribunal, and -publicly charge you with what every Roman would resent, forcing your way -into the heart of a patrician’s house?” - -“For the gods’ sakes, good Pancratius, do not inflict such frightful -punishment.” - -“You know, Corvinus, that your own father would be obliged to act -towards you the part of Junius Brutus, or forfeit his office.” - -“I entreat you by all that you love, by all that you hold sacred, not to -dishonor me and mine so cruelly. My father and his house, not I, would -be crushed and ruined for ever. I will go on my knees and beg your -pardon for my former injuries, if you will only be merciful.” - -“Hold, hold, Corvinus, I have told you that was long forgotten. But hear -me now. Every one but the blind around you is a witness to this outrage. -There will be a hundred evidences to prove it. If ever, then, you speak -of this assembly, still more if you attempt to molest any one for it, we -shall have it in our power to bring you to trial at your own father’s -judgment-seat. Do you understand me, Corvinus?” - -“I do, indeed,” replied the captive in a whining tone. “Never, as long -as I live, will I breathe to mortal soul that I came into this dreadful -place. I swear it by the--” - -“Hush, hush! we want no such oaths here. Take my arm, and walk with me.” -Then turning to the others, he continued: “I know this person; his -coming here is quite a mistake.” - -The spectators, who had taken the wretch’s supplicating gestures and -tone for accompaniments to a tale of woe, and strong application for -relief, joined in crying out, “Pancratius, you will not send him away -fasting and unsuccored?” - -“Leave that to me,” was the reply. The self-appointed porters gave way -before Pancratius, who led Corvinus, still pretending to limp, into the -street, and dismissed him, saying: “Corvinus, we are now quits; only, -take care of your promise.” - -Fulvius, as we have seen, went to try his fortune by the front door. He -found it, according to Roman custom, unlocked; and, indeed, no one could -have suspected the possibility of a stranger entering at such an hour. -Instead of a porter, he found, guarding the door, only a simple-looking -girl about twelve or thirteen years of age, clad in a peasant’s garment. -No one else was near; and he thought it an excellent opportunity to -verify the strong suspicion which had crossed his mind. Accordingly, he -thus addressed the little portress: - -“What is your name, child, and who are you?” - -“I am,” she replied, “Emerentiana, the Lady Agnes’s foster-sister.” - -“Are you a Christian?” he asked her sharply. - -The poor little peasant opened her eyes in the amazement of ignorance, -and replied: “No, sir.” It was impossible to resist the evidence of her -simplicity; and Fulvius was satisfied that he was mistaken. The fact -was, that she was the daughter of a peasant who had been Agnes’s nurse. -The mother had just died, and her kind sister had sent for the orphan -daughter, intending to have her instructed and baptized. She had only -arrived a day or two before, and was yet totally ignorant of -Christianity. - -Fulvius stood embarrassed what to do next. Solitude made him feel as -awkwardly situated, as a crowd was making Corvinus. He thought of -retreating, but this would have destroyed all his hopes; he was going to -advance, when he reflected that he might commit himself unpleasantly. At -this critical juncture, whom should he see coming lightly across the -court, but the youthful mistress of the house, all joy, all spring, all -brightness and sunshine. As soon as she saw him, she stood, as if to -receive his errand, and he approached with his blandest smile and most -courtly gesture, and thus addressed her: - -“I have anticipated the usual hour at which visitors come, and, I fear, -must appear an intruder, Lady Agnes; but I was impatient to inscribe -myself as an humble client of your noble house.” - -“Our house,” she replied, smiling, “boasts of no clients, nor do we seek -them; for we have no pretensions to influence or power.” - -“Pardon me; with such a ruler, it possesses the highest of influences -and the mightiest of powers, those which reign, without effort, over the -heart as a most willing subject.” - -Incapable of imagining that such words could allude to herself, she -replied, with artless simplicity: - -“Oh, how true are your words! the Lord of this house is indeed the -sovereign over the affections of all within it.” - -“But I,” interposed Fulvius, “allude to that softer and benigner -dominion, which graceful charms alone can exercise on those who from -near behold them.” - -Agnes looked as one entranced; her eyes beheld a very different image -before them from that of her wretched flatterer; and with an impassioned -glance towards heaven, she exclaimed: - -“Yes, He whose beauty sun and moon in their lofty firmament gaze on and -admire, to Him is pledged my service and my love.”[56] - -Fulvius was confounded and perplexed. The inspired look, the rapturous -attitude, the music of the thrilling tones in which she uttered these -words, their mysterious import, the strangeness of the whole scene, -fastened him to the spot, and sealed his lips; till, feeling that he was -losing the most favorable opportunity he could ever expect of opening -his mind (affection it could not be called) to her, he boldly said, “It -is of you I am speaking; and I entreat you to believe my expression of -sincerest admiration of you, and of unbounded attachment to you.” As he -uttered these words, he dropt on his knee, and attempted to take her -hand; but the maiden bounded back with a shudder, and turned away her -burning countenance. - -Fulvius started in an instant to his feet; for he saw Sebastian, who was -come to summon Agnes to the poor, impatient of her absence, striding -forward towards him, with an air of indignation. - -“Sebastian,” said Agnes to him, as he approached, “be not angry; this -gentleman has probably entered here by some unintentional mistake, and -no doubt will quietly retire.” Saying this, she withdrew. - -Sebastian, with his calm but energetic manner, now addressed the -intruder, who quailed beneath his look, “Fulvius, what do you here? what -business has brought you?” - -“I suppose,” answered he, regaining courage, “that having met the lady -of the house at the same place with you, her noble cousin’s table, I -have a right to wait upon her, in common with other voluntary clients.” - -“But not at so unreasonable an hour as this, I presume?” - -“The hour that is not unreasonable for a young officer,” retorted -Fulvius insolently, “is not, I trust, so for a civilian.” - -Sebastian had to use all his power of self-control to check his -indignation, as he replied: - -“Fulvius, be not rash in what you say; but remember that two persons may -be on a very different footing in a house. Yet not even the longest -familiarity, still less a one dinner’s acquaintance, can authorize or -justify the audacity of your bearing towards the young mistress of this -house, a few moments ago.” - -“Oh, you are jealous, I suppose, brave captain!” replied Fulvius, with -his most refined sarcastic tone. “Report says that you are the -acceptable, if not accepted, candidate for Fabiola’s hand. She is now in -the country; and, no doubt, you wish to make sure for yourself of the -fortune of one or the other of Rome’s richest heiresses. There is -nothing like having two strings to one’s bow.” - -This coarse and bitter sarcasm wounded the noble officer’s best feelings -to the quick; and had he not long before disciplined himself to -Christian meekness, his blood would have proved too powerful for his -reason. - -“It is not good for either of us, Fulvius, that you remain longer here. -The courteous dismissal of the noble lady whom you have insulted has not -sufficed; I must be the ruder executor of her command.” Saying this, he -took the unbidden guest’s arm in his powerful grasp, and conducted him -to the door. When he had put him outside, still holding him fast, he -added: “Go now, Fulvius, in peace; and remember that you have this day -made yourself amenable to the laws of the state by this unworthy -conduct. I will spare you, if you know how to keep your own counsel; -but it is well that you should know, that I am acquainted with your -occupation in Rome; and that I hold this morning’s insolence over your -head, as a security that you will follow it discreetly. Now, again I -say, go in peace.” - -But he had no sooner let go his grasp, than he felt himself seized from -behind by an unseen, but evidently an athletic, assailant. It was -Eurotas, from whom Fulvius durst conceal nothing, and to whom he had -confided the intended interview with Corvinus, that had followed and -watched him. From the black slave he had before learnt the mean and -coarse character of this client of her magical arts; and he feared some -trap. When he saw the seeming struggle at the door, he ran stealthily -behind Sebastian, who, he fancied, must be his pupil’s new ally, and -pounced upon him with a bear’s rude assault. But he had no common rival -to deal with. He attempted in vain, though now helped by Fulvius, to -throw the soldier heavily down; till, despairing of success in this way, -he detached from his girdle a small but deadly weapon, a steel mace of -finished Syrian make, and was raising it over the back of Sebastian’s -head, when he felt it wrenched in a trice from his hand, and himself -twirled two or three times round, in an iron gripe, and flung flat in -the middle of the street. - -“I am afraid you have hurt the poor fellow, Quadratus,” said Sebastian -to his centurion, who was coming up at that moment to join his -fellow-Christians, and was of most Herculean make and strength. - -“He well deserves it, tribune, for his cowardly assault,” replied the -other, as they re-entered the house. - -The two foreigners, crest-fallen, slunk away from the scene of their -defeat; and as they turned the corner, caught a glimpse of Corvinus, no -longer limping, but running as fast as his legs would carry him, from -his discomfiture at the back-door. However often they may have met -afterwards, neither ever alluded to their feats of that morning. Each -knew that the other had incurred only failure and shame; and they came -both to the conclusion, that there was one fold at least in Rome, which -either fox or wolf would assail in vain. - -[Illustration: A wall painting from the Cemetery of St. Priscilla.] - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -CHARITY RETURNS. - - -When calm had been restored, after this twofold disturbance, the work of -the day went quietly on. Besides the distribution of greater alms, such -as was made by St. Laurence, from the Church, it was by no means so -uncommon in early ages, for fortunes to be given away at once, by those -who wished to retire from the world.[57] Indeed we should naturally -expect to find that the noble charity of the Apostolic Church at -Jerusalem would not be a barren example to that of Rome. But this -extraordinary charity would be most naturally suggested at periods when -the Church was threatened with persecution; and when Christians, who -from position and circumstances might look forward to martyrdom, would, -to use a homely phrase, clear their hearts and houses for action, by -removing from both whatever could attach themselves to earth, and become -the spoil of the impious soldier, instead of having been made the -inheritance of the poor.[58] - -Nor would the great principles be forgotten, of making the light of -good works to shine before men, while the hand which filled the lamp, -poured in its oil in the secret, which only He who seeth in secret can -penetrate. The plate and jewels of a noble family publicly valued, sold, -and, in their price, distributed to the poor, must have been a bright -example of charity, which consoled the Church, animated the generous, -shamed the avaricious, touched the heart of the catechumen, and drew -blessings and prayers from the lips of the poor. And yet the individual -right hand that gave them remained closely shrouded from the scrutiny or -consciousness of the left; and the humility and modesty of the noble -giver remained concealed in His bosom, into which these earthly -treasures were laid up, to be returned with boundless and eternal usury. - -And such was the case in the instance before us. When all was prepared, -Dionysius the priest, who at the same time was the physician to whom the -care of the sick was committed, and who had succeeded Polycarp in the -title of St. Pastor, made his appearance, and seated in a chair at one -end of the court, thus addressed the assembly: - -“Dear brethren, our merciful God has touched the heart of some -charitable brother, to have compassion on his poorer brethren, and strip -himself of much worldly possession, for Christ’s sake. Who he is I know -not; nor would I seek to know. He is some one who loves not to have his -treasures where rust consumes, and thieves break in and steal, but -prefers, like the blessed Laurence, that they should be borne up, by the -hands of Christ’s poor, into the heavenly treasury. - -“Accept then, as a gift from God, who has inspired this charity, the -distribution which is about to be made, and which may be a useful help, -in the days of tribulation which are preparing for us. And as the only -return which is desired from you, join all in that familiar prayer which -we daily recite for those who give, or do us good.” - -During this brief address poor Pancratius knew not which - -[Illustration: St. Laurence displaying his Treasures.] - -way to look. He had shrunk into a corner behind the assistants, and -Sebastian had compassionately stood before him, making himself as large -as possible. And his emotion did all but betray him, when the whole of -that assembly knelt down, and with outstretched hands, uplifted eyes, -and fervent tone, cried out, as if with one voice: - -“_Retribuere dignare, Domine, omnibus nobis bona facientibus, propter -Nomen tuum, vitam æternam. Amen._”[59] - -The alms were then distributed, and they proved unexpectedly large. -Abundant food was also served out to all, and a cheerful banquet closed -the edifying scene. It was yet early: indeed many partook not of food, -as a still more delicious, and spiritual, feast was about to be prepared -for them in the neighboring titular church. - -When all was over, Cæcilia insisted upon _seeing_ her poor old cripple -safe home, and upon carrying for him his heavy canvas purse; and chatted -so cheerfully to him that he was surprised when he found they had -reached the door of his poor but clean lodging. His blind guide then -thrust his purse into his hand, and giving him a hurried good day, -tripped away most lightly, and was soon lost to his sight. The bag -seemed uncommonly full; so he counted carefully its contents, and found, -to his amazement, that he had a double portion. He tried again, and -still it was so. At the first opportunity, he made inquiries from -Reparatus, but could get no explanation. If he had seen Cæcilia, when -she had turned the corner, laugh outright, as if she had been playing -some one a good trick, and running as lightly as if she had nothing -heavy about her, he might have discovered a solution of the problem of -his wealth. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE MONTH OF OCTOBER. - - -The month of October in Italy is certainly a glorious season. The sun -has contracted his heat, but not his splendor; he is less scorching, but -not less bright. As he rises in the morning, he dashes sparks of -radiance over awakening nature, as an Indian prince, upon entering his -presence chamber, flings handfuls of gems and gold into the crowd; and -the mountains seem to stretch forth their rocky heads, and the woods to -wave their lofty arms, in eagerness to catch his royal largess. And -after careering through a cloudless sky, when he reaches his goal and -finds his bed spread with molten gold on the western sea, and canopied -above with purple clouds, edged with burnished yet airy fringes, more -brilliant than Ophir supplied to the couch of Solomon, he expands -himself into a huge disk of most benignant effulgence, as if to bid -farewell to his past course; but soon sends back, after disappearing, -radiant messengers from the world he is visiting and cheering, to remind -us he will soon come back, and gladden us again. If less powerful, his -ray is certainly richer and more active. It has taken months to draw out -of the sapless, shrivelled vine-stem, first green leaves, then crisp -slender tendrils, and last little clusters of hard sour berries; and the -growth has been provokingly slow. But now the leaves are large and -mantling, and worthy in vine-countries to have a name of their own;[60] -and the separated little knots have swelled up into luxurious bunches of -grapes. And of these some are already assuming their bright amber tint, -while those which are to glow in rich imperial purple, are passing -rapidly to it, through a changing opal hue, scarcely less beautiful. - -It is pleasant then to sit in a shady spot, on a hill-side, and look -ever and anon, from one’s book, over the varied and varying landscape. -For, as the breeze sweeps over the olives on the hill-side, and turns -over their leaves, it brings out from them light and shade, for their -two sides vary in sober tint; and as the sun shines, or the cloud -darkens, on the vineyards, in the rounded hollows between, the brilliant -web of unstirring vine-leaves displays a yellower or browner shade of -its delicious green. Then, mingle with these the innumerable other -colors that tinge the picture, from the dark cypress, the duller ilex, -the rich chestnut, the reddening orchard, the adust stubble, the -melancholy pine--to Italy what the palm-tree is to the East--towering -above the box, and the arbutus, and laurels of villas, and these -scattered all over the mountain, hill, and plain, with fountains leaping -up, and cascades gliding down, porticoes of glittering marble, statues -of bronze and stone, painted fronts of rustic dwellings, with flowers -innumerable, and patches of greensward; and you have a faint idea of the -attractions which, for this month, as in our days, used to draw out the -Roman patrician and knight, from what Horace calls the clatter and smoke -of Rome, to feast his eyes upon the calmer beauties of the country. - -And so, as the happy month approached, villas were seen open to let in -air; and innumerable slaves were busy, dusting and scouring, trimming -the hedges into fantastic shapes, clearing the canals for the artificial -brooklets, and plucking up the weeds from the gravel-walks. The -_villicus_ or country steward superintends all; and with sharp word, or -sharper lash, makes many suffer, that perhaps one only may enjoy. - -At last the dusty roads become encumbered with every species of vehicle, -from the huge wain carrying furniture, and slowly drawn by oxen, to the -light chariot or gig, dashing on behind spirited barbs; and as the best -roads were narrow, and the drivers of other days were not more -smooth-tongued than those of ours, we may imagine what confusion and -noise and squabbling filled the public ways. Nor was there a favored one -among these. Sabine, Tusculan, and Alban hills were all studded over -with splendid villas, or humbler cottages, such as a Mæcenas or a Horace -might respectively occupy; even the flat Campagna of Rome is covered -with the ruins of immense country residences; while from the mouth of -the Tiber, along the coast of Laurentum, Lanuvium, and Antium, and so on -to Cajeta, Bajæ, and other fashionable watering-places round Vesuvius, a -street of noble residences may be said to have run. Nor were these -limits sufficient to satisfy the periodical fever for rustication in -Rome. The borders of Benacus (now the Lago Maggiore, north of Milan), -Como, and the beautiful banks of the Brenta, received their visitors not -from neighboring cities only, still less from wanderers of Germanic -origin, but rather from the inhabitants of the imperial capital. - -It was to one of these “tender eyes of Italy,” as Pliny calls its -villas,[61] because forming its truest beauty, that Fabiola had -hastened, before the rush on the road, the day after her black slave’s -interview with Corvinus. It was situated on the slope of the hill which -descends to the bay of Gaeta, and was remarkable, like her house, for -the good taste which arranged the most costly, though not luxurious, -elements of comfort. From the terrace in front of the elegant villa -could be seen the calm azure bay, embowered in the richest of shores, -like a mirror in an embossed and enamelled frame, relieved by the white -sun-lit sails of yachts, galleys, pleasure-boats, and fishing-skiffs; -from some of which rose the roaring laugh of excursionists, from others -the song or harp-notes of family parties, or the loud, sharp, and not -over-refined ditties of the various ploughmen of the deep. A gallery of -lattice, covered with creepers, led to the baths on the shore; and half -way down was an opening on a favorite spot of green, kept ever fresh by -the gush, from an out-cropping rock, of a crystal spring, confined for a -moment in a natural basin, in which it bubbled and fretted, till, -rushing over its ledge, it went down murmuring and chattering, in the -most good-natured way imaginable, along the side of the trellis, into -the sea. Two enormous plane-trees cast their shade over this classic -ground, as did Plato’s and Cicero’s over their choice scenes of -philosophical disquisition. The most beautiful flowers and plants from -distant climates had been taught to make this spot their home, -sheltered, as it was, equally from sultriness and from frost. - -Fabius, for reasons which will be explained later, seldom paid more than -a flying visit for a couple of days to this villa; and even then it was -generally on his way to some gayer resort of Roman fashion, where he -had, or pretended to have, business. His daughter was, therefore, mostly -alone, and enjoyed a delicious solitude. Besides a well-furnished -library always kept at the villa, chiefly containing works on -agriculture, or of a local interest, a stock of books, some old -favorites, other lighter productions of the season (of which she -generally procured an early copy at a high price), was brought every -year from Rome, together with a quantity of smaller familiar works of -art, such as, distributed through new apartments, make them become a -home. Most of her morning hours were spent in the cherished retreat just -described, with a book-casket at her side, from which she selected -first one volume, and then another. But any visitor calling upon her -this year, would have been surprised to find her almost always with a -companion--and that a slave! - -We may imagine how amazed she was when, the day following the dinner at -her house, Agnes informed her that Syra had declined leaving her -service, though tempted by a bribe of liberty. Still more astonished was -she at learning, that the reason was attachment to herself. She could -feel no pleasurable consciousness of having earned this affection by any -acts of kindness, nor even by any decent gratitude for her servant’s -care of her in illness. She was therefore at first inclined to think -Syra a fool for her pains. But it would not do in her mind. It was true -she had often read or heard of instances of fidelity and devotedness in -slaves, even towards oppressive masters;[62] but these were always -accounted as exceptions to the general rule; and what were a few dozen -cases, in as many centuries, of love, compared with the daily ten -thousand ones of hatred around her? Yet here was a clear and palpable -one at hand, and it struck her forcibly. She waited a time, and watched -her maid eagerly, to see if she could discover in her conduct any airs, -any symptom of thinking she had done a grand thing, and that her -mistress must feel it. Not in the least. Syra pursued all her duties -with the same simple diligence, and never betrayed any signs of -believing herself less a slave than before. Fabiola’s heart softened -more and more; and she now began to think that not quite so difficult, -which, in her conversation with Agnes, she had pronounced impossible--to -love a slave. And she had also discovered a second evidence, that there -_was_ such a thing in the world as disinterested love, affection that -asked for no return. - -Her conversations with her slave, after the memorable one which we have -recounted, had satisfied her that she had received a superior education. -She was too delicate to question her on her early history; especially as -masters often had young slaves highly educated, to enhance their value. -But she soon discovered that she read Greek and Latin authors with ease -and elegance, and wrote well in both languages. By degrees she raised -her position, to the great annoyance of her companions: she ordered -Euphrosyne to give her a separate room, the greatest of comforts to the -poor maid; and she employed her near herself as a secretary and reader. -Still she could perceive no change in her conduct, no pride, no -pretensions; for the moment any work presented itself of the menial -character formerly allotted to her, she never seemed to think of turning -it over to any one else, but at once naturally and cheerfully set -herself about it. - -The reading generally pursued by Fabiola was, as has been previously -observed, of rather an abstruse and refined character, consisting of -philosophical literature. She was surprised, however, to find how her -slave, by a simple remark, would often confute an apparently solid -maxim, bring down a grand flight of virtuous declamation, or suggest a -higher view of moral truth, or a more practical course of action, than -authors whom she had long admired proposed in their writings. Nor was -this done by any apparent shrewdness of judgment or pungency of wit; nor -did it seem to come from much reading, or deep thought, or superiority -of education. For though she saw traces of this in Syra’s words, ideas, -and behavior, yet the books and doctrines which she was reading now, -were evidently new to her. But there seemed to be in her maid’s mind -some latent but infallible standard of truth, some master-key, which -opened equally every closed deposit of moral knowledge, some -well-attuned chord, which vibrated in unfailing unison with what was -just and right, but jangled in dissonance with whatever was wrong, -vicious, or even inaccurate. What this secret was, she wanted to -discover; it was more like an intuition than any thing she had before -witnessed. She was not yet in a condition to learn, that the meanest and -least in the Kingdom of Heaven (and what lower than a slave?) was -greater in spiritual wisdom, intellectual light, and heavenly -privileges, than even the Baptist Precursor.[63] - -It was on a delicious morning in October, that, reclining by the spring, -the mistress and slave were occupied in reading; when the former, -wearied with the heaviness of the volume, looked for something lighter -and newer; and, drawing out a manuscript from her casket, said: - -“Syra, put that stupid book down. Here is something, I am told, very -amusing, and only just come out. It will be new to both of us.” - -The handmaid did as she was told, looked at the title of the proposed -volume, and blushed. She glanced over the few first lines, and her fears -were confirmed. She saw that it was one of those trashy works, which -were freely allowed to circulate, as St. Justin complained, though -grossly immoral, and making light of all virtue; while every Christian -writing was suppressed, or as much as possible discountenanced. She put -down the book with a calm resolution, and said: - -“Do not, my good mistress, ask me to read to you from that book. It is -fit neither for me to recite, nor for you to hear.” - -Fabiola was astonished. She had never heard, or even thought, of such a -thing as restraint put upon her studies. What in our days would be -looked upon as unfit for common perusal, formed part of current and -fashionable literature. From Horace to Ausonius, all classical writers -demonstrate this. And what rule of virtue could have made that reading -seem indelicate, which only described by the pen a system of morals, -which the pencil and the chisel made hourly familiar to every eye? -Fabiola had no higher standard of right and wrong than the system under -which she had been educated could give her. - -“What possible harm can it do either of us?” she asked, smiling. “I have -no doubt there are plenty of foul crimes and wicked actions described in -the book; but it will not induce us to commit them. And, in the -meantime, it is amusing to read them of others.” - -“Would you yourself, for any consideration, do them?” - -“Not for the world.” - -“Yet, as you hear them read, their image must occupy your mind; as they -amuse you, your thoughts must dwell upon them with pleasure.” - -“Certainly. What then?” - -“That image is foulness, that thought is wickedness.” - -“How is that possible? Does not wickedness require an action, to have -any existence?” - -“True, my mistress; and what is the action of the mind, or as I call it -the soul, but thought? A passion which wishes death, is the action of -this invisible power, like it, unseen; the blow which inflicts it is but -the mechanical action of the body, discernible like its origin. But -which power commands, and which obeys? In which resides the -responsibility of the final effect?” - -“I understand you,” said Fabiola, after a pause of some little -mortification. “But one difficulty remains. There is responsibility, you -maintain, for the inward, as well as the outward act. To whom? If the -second follow, there is joint responsibility for both, to society, to -the laws, to principles of justice, to self; for painful results will -ensue. But if only the inward action exist, to whom can there be -responsibility? Who sees it? Who can presume to judge it? Who to -control it?” - -“God,” answered Syra, with simple earnestness. - -Fabiola was disappointed. She expected some new theory, some striking -principle, to come out. Instead, they had sunk down into what she feared -was mere superstition, though not so much as she once had deemed it. -“What, Syra, do you then really believe in Jupiter, and Juno, or perhaps -Minerva, who is about the most respectable of the Olympian family? Do -you think they have any thing to do with our affairs?” - -“Far indeed from it; I loathe their very names, and I detest the -wickedness which their histories or fables symbolize on earth. No, I -spoke not of gods and goddesses, but of one only God.” - -“And what do you call Him, Syra, in your system?” - -“He has no name but GOD; and that only men have given Him, that they may -speak of Him. It describes not His nature, His origin, His attributes.” - -“And what are these?” asked the mistress, with awakened curiosity. - -“Simple as light is His nature, one and the same every where, -indivisible, undefilable, penetrating yet diffusive, ubiquitous and -unlimited. He existed before there was any beginning; He will exist -after all ending has ceased. Power, wisdom, goodness, love, justice too, -and unerring judgment belong to Him by His nature, and are as unlimited -and unrestrained as it. He alone can create, He alone preserve, and He -alone destroy.” - -Fabiola had often read of the inspired looks which animated a sibyl, or -the priestess of an oracle; but she had never witnessed them till now. -The slave’s countenance glowed, her eyes shone with a calm brilliancy, -her frame was immovable, the words flowed from her lips, as if these -were but the opening of a musical reed, made vocal by another’s breath. - -[Illustration: Interior of the Temple of Jupiter.] - -Her expression and manner forcibly reminded Fabiola of that abstracted -and mysterious look, which she had so often noticed in Agnes; and though -in the child it was more tender and graceful, in the maid it seemed more -earnest and oracular. “How enthusiastic and excitable an Eastern -temperament is, to be sure!” thought Fabiola, as she gazed upon her -slave. “No wonder the East should be thought the land of poetry and -inspiration.” When she saw Syra relaxed from the evident tension of her -mind, she said, in as light a tone as she could assume: “But, Syra, can -you think that a Being such as you have described, far beyond all the -conception of ancient fable, can occupy Himself with constantly watching -the actions, still more the paltry thoughts, of millions of creatures?” - -“It is no occupation, lady, it is not even choice. I called Him light. -Is it occupation or labor to the sun to send his rays through the -crystal of this fountain, to the very pebbles in its bed? See how, of -themselves they disclose, not only the beautiful, but the foul that -harbors there; not only the sparkles that the falling drops strike from -its rough sides; not only the pearly bubbles that merely rise, glisten -for a moment, then break against the surface; not only the golden fish -that bask in their light, but black and loathsome creeping things, which -seek to hide and bury themselves in dark nooks below, and cannot; for -the light pursues them. Is there toil or occupation in all this, to the -sun that thus visits them? Far more would it appear so, were he to -restrain his beams at the surface of the transparent element, and hold -them back from throwing it into light. And what he does here he does in -the next stream, and in that which is a thousand miles off, with equal -ease; nor can any imaginable increase of their number, or bulk, lead us -to fancy, or believe, that rays would be wanting, or light would fail, -to scrutinize them all.” - -“Your theories are beautiful always, Syra, and, if true, most -wonderful,” observed Fabiola, after a pause, during which her eyes were -fixedly contemplating the fountain, as though she were testing the truth -of Syra’s words. - -“And they sound like truth,” she added; “for could falsehood be more -beautiful than truth? But what an awful idea, that one has _never_ been -alone, has never had a wish to oneself, has never held a single thought -in secret, has never hidden the most foolish fancy of a proud or -childish brain, from the observation of One that knows no imperfection. -Terrible thought, that one is living, if you say true, under the steady -gaze of an Eye, of which the sun is but a shadow, for he enters not the -soul! It is enough to make one any evening commit self-destruction, to -get rid of the torturing watchfulness! Yet it sounds so true!” - -Fabiola looked almost wild as she spoke these words. The pride of her -pagan heart rose strong within her, and she rebelled against the -supposition that she could never again feel alone with her own thoughts, -or that any power should exist which could control her inmost desires, -imaginings, or caprices. Still the thought came back: “Yet it seems so -true!” Her generous intellect struggled against the writhing passion, -like an eagle with a serpent; more with eye, than with beak and talons, -subduing the quailing foe. After a struggle, visible in her countenance -and gestures, a calm came over her. She seemed for the first time to -feel the presence of One greater than herself, some one whom she feared, -yet whom she would wish to love. She bowed down her mind, she bent her -intelligence to His feet; and her heart too owned, for the first time, -that it had a Master, and a Lord. - -Syra, with calm intensity of feeling, silently watched the workings of -her mistress’s mind. She knew how much depended on their issue, what a -mighty step in her unconscious pupil’s religious progress was involved -in the recognition of the truth before her; and she fervently prayed for -this grace. - -At length Fabiola raised her head, which seemed to have been bowed down -in accompaniment to her mind, and with graceful kindness said: - -“Syra, I am sure I have not yet reached the depths of your knowledge; -you must have much more to teach me.” (A tear and a blush came to the -poor handmaid’s relief.) “But to-day you have opened a new world, and a -new life, to my thoughts. A sphere of virtue beyond the opinions and the -judgments of men, a consciousness of a controlling, an approving, and a -_rewarding_ Power too; am I right?” (Syra expressed approbation,) -“standing by us when no other eye can see, or restrain, or encourage us; -a feeling that, were we shut up forever in solitude, we should be ever -the same, because that influence on us must be so superior to that of -any amount of human principles, in guiding us, and could not leave us; -such, if I understand your theory, is the position of moral elevation, -in which it would place each individual. To fall below it, even with an -outwardly virtuous life, is mere deceit, and positive wickedness. Is -this so?” - -“O my dear mistress,” exclaimed Syra, “how much better you can express -all this than I!” - -“You have never flattered me yet, Syra,” replied Fabiola, smilingly; “do -not begin now. But you have thrown a new light upon other subjects, till -to-day obscure to me. Tell me, now, was it not this you meant, when you -once told me that in your view there was no distinction between mistress -and slave; that is, that as the distinction is only outward, bodily and -social, it is not to be put in comparison with that equality which -exists before your Supreme Being, and that possible moral superiority -which He might see of the one over the other, inversely of their visible -rank?” - -“It was in a great measure so, my noble lady; though there are other -considerations involved in the idea, which would hardly interest you at -present.” - -“And yet, when you stated that proposition, it seemed to me so -monstrous, so absurd, that pride and anger overcame me. Do you remember -that, Syra?” - -“Oh, no, no!” replied the gentle servant; “do not allude to it, I pray!” - -“Have you forgiven me that day, Syra?” said the mistress, with an -emotion quite new to her. - -The poor maid was overpowered. She rose and threw herself on her knees -before her mistress, and tried to seize her hand; but she prevented her, -and, for the first time in her life, Fabiola threw herself upon a -slave’s neck, and wept. - -Her passion of tears was long and tender. Her heart was getting above -her intellect; and this can only be by its increasing softness. At -length she grew calm; and as she withdrew her embrace she said: - -“One thing more, Syra: dare one address, by worship, this Being whom you -have described to me? Is He not too great, too lofty, too distant for -this?” - -“Oh, no! far from it, noble lady,” answered the servant. “He is not -distant from any of us; for as much as in the light of the sun, so in -the very splendor of His might, His kindness, and His wisdom, we live -and move and have our being. Hence, one may address Him, not as far off, -but as around us and within us, while we are in Him; and He hears us not -with ears, but our words drop at once into His very bosom, and the -desires of our hearts pass directly into the divine abyss of His.” - -“But,” pursued Fabiola, somewhat timidly, “is there no great act of -acknowledgment, such as sacrifice is supposed to be, whereby He may be -formally recognized and adored?” - -Syra hesitated, for the conversation seemed to be trenching upon -mysterious and sacred ground, never opened by the Church to profane -foot. She, however, answered in a simple and general affirmative. - -“And could not I,” still more humbly asked her mistress, “be so far -instructed in your school as to be able to perform this sublimer act of -homage?” - -“I fear not, noble Fabiola; one must needs obtain a Victim worthy of the -Deity.” - -“Ah, yes! to be sure,” answered Fabiola. “A bull may be good enough for -Jupiter, or a goat for Bacchus; but where can be found a sacrifice -worthy of Him whom you have brought me to know?” - -“It must indeed be one every way worthy of Him, spotless in purity, -matchless in greatness, unbounded in acceptableness.” - -“And what can that be, Syra?” - -“Only Himself.” - -Fabiola shrouded her face with her hands, and then looking up earnestly -into Syra’s face, said to her: - -“I am sure that, after having so clearly described to me the deep sense -of responsibility under which you must habitually speak, as well as act, -you have a real meaning in this awful saying, though I understand you -not.” - -“As surely as every word of mine is heard, as every thought of mine is -seen, it is a truth which I have spoken.” - -“I have not strength to carry the subject further at present; my mind -has need of rest.” - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY. - - -After this conversation Fabiola retired; and during the rest of the day -her mind was alternately agitated and calm. When she looked steadily on -the grand view of moral life which her mind had grasped, she found an -unusual tranquillity in its contemplation; she felt as if she had made -discovery of a great phenomenon, the knowledge of which guided her into -a new and lofty region, whence she could smile on the errors and follies -of mankind. But when she considered the responsibility which this light -imposed, the watchfulness which it demanded, the unseen and unrequited -struggles which it required, the desolateness, almost, of a virtue -without admiration or even sympathy, she again shrunk from the life that -was before her, as about to be passed without any stay or help, from the -only sources of it which she knew. Unconscious of the real cause, she -saw that she possessed not instruments or means, to carry out the -beautiful theory. This seemed to stand like a brilliant lamp in the -midst of a huge, bare, unfurnished hall, lighting up only a wilderness. -What was the use of so much wasted splendor? - -The next morning had been fixed for one of those visits which used to be -annually paid in the country,--that to the now ex-prefect of the city, -Chromatius. Our reader will remember, that after his conversion and -resignation of office, this magistrate had retired to his villa in -Campania, taking with him a number of the converts made by Sebastian, -with the holy priest Polycarp, to complete their instruction. Of these -circumstances, of course, Fabiola had never been informed; but she heard -all sorts of curious reports about Chromatius’s villa. It was said that -he had a number of visitors never before seen at his house; that he gave -no entertainments; that he had freed all his country slaves, but that -many of them had preferred remaining with him; that if numerous, the -whole establishment seemed very happy, though no boisterous sports or -frolicsome meetings seemed to be indulged in. All this stimulated -Fabiola’s curiosity, in addition to her wish to discharge a pleasing -duty of courtesy to a most kind friend of hers from childhood; and she -longed to see, with her own eyes, what appeared to her to be a very -Platonic, or, as we should say, Utopian, experiment. - -In a light country carriage, with good horses, Fabiola started early, -and dashed gaily along the level road across the “happy Campania.” An -autumnal shower had laid the dust, and studded with glistening gems the -garlands of vine which bordered the way, festooned, instead of hedges, -from tree to tree. It was not long before she reached the gentle -acclivity, for hill it could scarce be called, covered with box, -arbutus, and laurels, relieved by tall tapering cypresses, amidst which -shone the white walls of the large villa on the summit. A change, she -perceived, had taken place, which at first she could not exactly define; -but when she had passed through the gate, the number of empty pedestals -and niches reminded her that the villa had entirely lost one of its most -characteristic ornaments,--the number of beautiful statues which stood -gracefully against the clipped evergreen hedges, and gave it the name, -now become quite an empty one, of _Ad Statuas_.[64] - -Chromatius, whom she had last seen limping with gout, now a hale old -man, courteously received her, and inquired kindly after her father, -asking if the report were true that he was going shortly to Asia. At -this Fabiola seemed grieved and mortified; for he had not mentioned his -intention to her. Chromatius hoped it might be a false alarm, and asked -her to take a stroll about the grounds. She found them kept with the -same care as ever, full of beautiful plants; but still much missed the -old statues. At last they reached a grotto with a fountain, in which -formerly nymphs and sea-deities disported, but which now presented a -black unbroken surface. She could contain herself no longer, and turning -to Chromatius, she said: - -“Why, what on earth have you been doing, Chromatius, to send away all -your statues, and destroy the peculiar feature of your handsome villa? -What induced you to do this?” - -“My dear young lady,” answered the good-humored old gentleman, “do not -be so angry. Of what use were those figures to any one?” - -“If you thought so,” replied she, “others might not. But tell me, what -have you done with them all?” - -“Why, to tell you the truth, I have had them brought under the hammer.” - -“What! and never let me know any thing about it? You know there were -several pieces I would most gladly have purchased.” - -Chromatius laughed outright, and said, with that familiar tone, which -acquaintance with Fabiola from a child authorized him always to assume -with her: - -“Dear me! how your young imagination runs away, far too fast for my poor -old tongue to keep pace with; I meant not the auctioneer’s hammer, but -the sledge-hammer. The gods and goddesses have been all smashed, -pulverized! If you happen to want a stray leg, or a hand minus a few -fingers, perhaps I may pick up such a thing for you. But I cannot -promise you a face with a nose, or a skull without a fracture.” - -Fabiola was utterly amazed, as she exclaimed: “What an utter barbarian -you have become, my wise old judge! What shadow of reason can you give -to justify so outrageous a proceeding?” - -“Why, you see, as I have grown older, I have grown wiser! and I have -come to the conclusion that Mr. Jupiter and Mrs. Juno are no more gods -than you or I; so I summarily got rid of them.” - -“Yes, that may be very well; and I, though neither old nor wise, have -been long of the same opinion. But why not retain them as mere works of -art?” - -“Because they had been set up here, not in that capacity, but as -divinities. They were here as impostors, under false pretences; and as -you would turn out of your house, for an intruder, any bust or image -found among those of your ancestors, but belonging to quite another -family, so did I these pretenders to a higher connection with me, when I -found it false. Neither could I run a risk of their being bought for the -continuance of the same imposture.” - -“And pray, my most righteous old friend, is it not an imposture to -continue calling your villa _Ad Statuas_, after not a single statue is -left standing in it?” - -“Certainly,” replied Chromatius, amused at her sharpness, “and you will -see that I have planted palm-trees all about; and, as soon as they show -their heads above the evergreens, the villa will take the title of _Ad -Palmas_[65] instead.” - -“That will be a pretty name,” said Fabiola, who little thought of the -higher sense of appropriateness which it would contain. She, of course, -was not aware that the villa was now a training-school, in which many -were being prepared, as wrestlers or gladiators used to be, in separate -institutions, for the great combat of faith, martyrdom to death. They -who had entered in, and they who would go out, might equally say they -were on their way to pluck the conqueror’s palm, to be borne by them -before God’s judgment-seat, in token of their victory over the world. -Many were the palm-branches shortly to be gathered in that early -Christian retreat. - -But we must here give the history of the demolition of Chromatius’s -statues, which forms a peculiar episode in the “Acts of St. Sebastian.” - -When Nicostratus informed him, as prefect of Rome, of the release of his -prisoners, and of the recovery of Tranquillinus from gout by baptism, -Chromatius, after making every inquiry into the truth of the fact, sent -for Sebastian, and proposed to become a Christian, as a means of -obtaining a cure of the same complaint. This of course could not be; and -another course was proposed, which would give him new and personal -evidence of Christianity, without risking an insincere baptism. -Chromatius was celebrated for the immense number of idolatrous images -which he possessed; and was assured by Sebastian that, if he would have -them all broken in pieces, he would at once recover. This was a hard -condition, but he consented. His son Tiburtius, however, was furious, -and protested that if the promised result did not follow, he would have -Sebastian and Polycarp thrown into a blazing furnace: not perhaps so -difficult a matter for the prefect’s son. - -In one day two hundred pagan statues were broken in pieces, including, -of course, those in the villa, as well as those in the house at Rome. -The images indeed were broken; but Chromatius was not cured. Sebastian -was sent for and sharply rebuked. But he was calm and inflexible. “I am -sure,” he said, “that _all_ have not been destroyed. Something has been -withheld from demolition.” He proved right. Some small objects had been -treated as works of art rather than religious things, and, like Achan’s -coveted spoil,[66] concealed. They were brought forth and broken up; and -Chromatius instantly recovered. Not only was he converted, but his son -Tiburtius became also one of the most fervent of Christians; and, dying -in glorious martyrdom, gave his name to a catacomb. He had begged to -stay in Rome, to encourage and assist his fellow-believers, in the -coming persecution, which his connection with the palace, his great -courage and activity, would enable him to do. He had become, naturally, -the great friend and frequent companion of Sebastian and Pancratius. - -After this little digression, we resume the conversation between -Chromatius and Fabiola, who continued her last sentence by adding: - -“But do you know, Chromatius--let us sit down in this lovely spot, where -I remember there was a beautiful Bacchus--that all sorts of strange -reports are going round the country, about your doings here?” - -“Dear me! What are they? Do tell me.” - -“Why, that you have a quantity of people living with you whom nobody -knows; that you see no company, go out nowhere, and lead quite a -philosophical sort of life, forming a most Platonic republic.” - -“Highly flattered!” interrupted Chromatius, with a smile and bow. - -“But that is not all,” continued Fabiola. “They say you keep most -unfashionable hours, have no amusements, and live most abstemiously; in -fact, almost starve yourselves.” - -“But I hope they do us the justice to add, that we pay our way?” -observed Chromatius. “They don’t say, do they, that we have a long score -run up at the baker’s or grocer’s?” - -“Oh, no!” replied Fabiola, laughing. - -“How kind of them!” rejoined the good-humored old judge. “They--the -whole public I mean--seem to take a wonderful interest in our concerns. -But is it not strange, my dear young lady, that so long as my villa was -on the free-and-easy system, with as much loose talk, deep drinking, -occasional sallies of youthful mirth, and troublesome freaks in the -neighborhood, as others,--I beg your pardon for alluding to such things; -but, in fact, so long as I and my friends were neither temperate nor -irreproachable, nobody gave himself the least trouble about us? But let -a few people retire to live in quiet, be frugal, industrious, entirely -removed from public affairs, and never even talk about politics or -society, and at once there springs up a vulgar curiosity to know all -about them, and a mean _pruritus_ in third-rate statesmen to meddle with -them; and there must needs fly about flocks of false reports and foul -suspicions about their motives and manner of living. Is not this a -phenomenon?” - -“It is, indeed; but how do you account for it?” - -“I can only do so by that faculty of little minds which makes them -always jealous of any aims higher than their own; so that, almost -unconsciously, they depreciate whatever they feel to be better than they -dare aspire to.” - -“But what is really your object and your mode of life here, my good -friend?” - -“We spend our time in the cultivation of our higher faculties. We rise -frightfully early--I hardly dare tell you how early; we then devote some -hours to religious worship; after which we occupy ourselves in a variety -of ways; some read, some write, some labor in the gardens; and I assure -you no hired workmen ever toiled harder and better than these -spontaneous agriculturists. We meet at different times, and sing -beautiful songs together, all breathing virtue and purity, and read most -improving books, and receive oral instruction from eloquent teachers. -Our meals are indeed very temperate; we live entirely on vegetables; -but I have already found out that laughing is quite compatible with -lentils, and that good cheer does not necessarily mean good fare.” - -“Why, you are turned complete Pythagoreans. I thought that was quite out -of date. But it must be a most economical system,” remarked Fabiola, -with a knowing look. - -“Ha! you cunning thing!” answered the judge; “so you really think that -this may be a saving plan after all? But it won’t be, for we have taken -a most desperate resolution.” - -“And what on earth is that?” asked the young lady. - -“Nothing less than this. We are determined that there shall not be such -a thing as a poor person within our reach; this winter we will endeavor -to clothe all the naked, and feed the hungry, and attend to all the sick -about. All our economy will go for this.” - -“It is indeed a very generous, though very new, idea in our times; and -no doubt you will be well laughed at for your pains, and abused on all -sides. They will even say worse of you than they do now, if it were -possible; but it is not.” - -“How so?” - -“Do not be offended if I tell you; but already they have gone so far as -to hint, that possibly you are Christians. But this, I assure you, I -have every where indignantly contradicted.” - -Chromatius smiled, and said: “Why an _indignant_ contradiction, my dear -child?” - -“Because, to be sure, I know you and Tiburtius, and Nicostratus, and -that dear dumb Zoë, too well to admit, for a moment, that you had -adopted the compound of stupidity and knavery called by that name.” - -“Let me ask you one question. Have you taken the trouble of reading any -Christian writings, by which you might know what is really held and done -by that despised body?” - -“Oh, not I indeed; I would not waste my time over them; I could not have -patience to learn any thing about them. I scorn them too much, as -enemies of all intellectual progress, as doubtful citizens, as credulous -to the last degree, and as sanctioning every abominable crime, ever to -give myself a chance of a nearer acquaintance with them.” - -“Well, dear Fabiola, I thought just the same about them once, but I have -much altered my opinion of late.” - -“This is indeed strange; since, as prefect of the city, you must have -had to punish many of these wretched people, for their constant -transgression of the laws.” - -A cloud came over the cheerful countenance of the old man, and a tear -stood in his eye. He thought of St. Paul, who had once persecuted the -Church of God. Fabiola saw the change, and was distressed. In the most -affectionate manner she said to him, “I have said something very -thoughtless, I fear, or stirred up recollections of what must be painful -to your kind heart. Forgive me, dear Chromatius, and let us talk of -something else. One purpose of my visit to you was, to ask you if you -knew of any one going immediately to Rome. I have heard, from several -quarters, of my father’s projected journey, and I am anxious to write to -him,[67] lest he repeat what he did before,--go without taking leave of -me, to spare me pain.” - -“Yes,” replied Chromatius, “there is a young man starting early -to-morrow morning. Come into the library, and write your letter; the -bearer is probably there.” - -They returned to the house, and entered an apartment on the -ground-floor, full of book-chests. At a table in the middle of the room -a young man was seated, transcribing a large volume; which, on seeing a -stranger enter, he closed and put aside. - -“Torquatus,” said Chromatius, addressing him, “this lady desires to send -a letter to her father in Rome.” - -“It will always give me great pleasure,” replied the young man, “to -serve the noble Fabiola, or her illustrious father.” - -“What, do you know them?” asked the judge, rather surprised. - -“I had the honor, when very young, as my father had had before me, to be -employed by the noble Fabius in Asia. Ill-health compelled me to leave -his service.” - -Several sheets of fine vellum, cut to a size, evidently for -transcription of some book, lay on the table. One of these the good old -man placed before the lady, with ink and a reed, and she wrote a few -affectionate lines to her father. She doubled the paper, tied a thread -round it, attached some wax to this, and impressed her seal, which she -drew from an embroidered bag, upon the wax. Anxious, some time, to -reward the messenger, when she could better know how, she took another -piece of the vellum, and made on it a memorandum of his name and -residence, and carefully put this into her bosom. After partaking of -some slight refreshment, she mounted her car, and bid Chromatius an -affectionate farewell. There was something touchingly paternal in his -look, as though he felt he should never see her again. So she thought; -but it was a very different feeling which softened his heart. Should she -always remain thus? Must he leave her to perish in obstinate ignorance? -Were that generous heart, and that noble intellect, to grovel on in the -slime of bitter paganism, when every feeling and every thought in them -seemed formed of strong yet finest fibres, across which truth might -weave the richest web? It could not be; and yet a thousand motives -restrained him from an avowal, which he felt would, at present, only -repulse her fatally from any nearer approach to the faith. “Farewell, my -child,” he exclaimed, “may you be blessed a hundredfold in ways which -as yet you know not.” He turned away his face, as he dropped her hand, -and hastily withdrew. - -Fabiola too was moved by the mystery, as well as the tenderness, of his -words; but was startled, before reaching the gate, to find her chariot -stopped by Torquatus. She was, at that moment, painfully struck by the -contrast between the easy and rather familiar, though respectful, manner -of the youth, and the mild gravity, mixed with cheerfulness, of the old -ex-prefect. - -“Pardon this interruption, madam,” he said, “but are you anxious to have -this letter quickly delivered?” - -“Certainly, I am _most_ anxious that it should reach my father as -speedily as possible.” - -“Then I fear I shall hardly be able to serve you. I can only afford to -travel on foot, or by chance and cheap conveyance, and I shall be some -days upon the road.” - -Fabiola, hesitating, said: “Would it be taking too great a liberty, if I -should offer to defray the expenses of a more rapid journey?” - -“By no means,” answered Torquatus, rather eagerly, “if I can thereby -better serve your noble house.” - -Fabiola handed him a purse abundantly supplied, not only for his -journey, but for an ample recompense. He received it with smiling -readiness, and disappeared by a side alley. There was something in his -manner which made a disagreeable impression; she could not think he was -fit company for her dear old friend. If Chromatius had witnessed the -transaction, he would have seen a likeness to Judas, in that eager -clutching of the purse. Fabiola, however, was not sorry to have -discharged, by a sum of money, once for all, any obligation she might -have contracted by making him her messenger. She therefore drew out her -memorandum to destroy it as useless, when she perceived that the other -side of the vellum was written on; as the transcriber of the book, -which she saw put by, had just commenced its continuation on that sheet. -Only a few sentences, however, had been written, and she proceeded to -read them. Then for the first time she perused the following words from -a book unknown to her: - -“I say to you, love your enemies; do good to them that hate you, and -pray for them that persecute and calumniate you: that you may be the -children of your Father who is in heaven, who maketh his sun to rise on -the good and the bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust.”[68] - -We may imagine the perplexity of an Indian peasant who has picked up in -a torrent’s bed a white pellucid pebble, rough and dull outside, but -where chipped emitting sparks of light; unable to decide whether he have -become possessed of a splendid diamond, or of a worthless stone, a thing -to be placed on a royal crown, or trodden under a beggar’s feet. Shall -he put an end to his embarrassment by at once flinging it away, or shall -he take it to a lapidary, ask its value, and perhaps be laughed at to -his face? Such were the alternating feelings of Fabiola on her way home. -“Whose can these sentences be? No Greek or Roman philosopher’s. They are -either very false or very true, either sublime morality or base -degradation. Does any one practise this doctrine, or is it a splendid -paradox? I will trouble myself no more on the subject. Or rather I will -ask Syra about it; it sounds very like one of her beautiful, but -impracticable, theories. No; it is better not. She overpowers me by her -sublime views, so impossible for me, though they seem easy to her. My -mind wants rest. The shortest way is to get rid of the cause of my -perplexity, and forget such harassing words. So here it goes to the -winds, or to puzzle some one else, who may find it on the road-side. Ho! -Phormio, stop the chariot, and pick up that piece of parchment which I -have dropped.” - -The outrider obeyed, though he had thought the sheet deliberately flung -out. It was replaced in Fabiola’s bosom: it was like a seal upon her -heart, for that heart was calm and silent till she reached home. - -[Illustration: Christ in the midst of His Apostles, from a painting in -the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -TEMPTATION. - - -Very early next morning a mule and guide came to the door of -Chromatius’s villa. On it was packed a moderate pair of saddle-bags, the -whole known property of Torquatus. Many friends were up to see him off, -and receive from him the kiss of peace ere he departed. May it not prove -like that of Gethsemani! Some whispered a kind, soft word in his ear, -exhorting him to be faithful to the graces he had received; and he -earnestly, and probably sincerely, promised that he would. Others, -knowing his poverty, put a little present into his hand, and entreated -him to avoid his old haunts and acquaintances. Polycarp, however, the -director of the community, called him aside; and with fervent words and -flowing tears, conjured him to correct the irregularities, slight -perhaps, but threatening, which had appeared in his conduct, repress the -levity which had manifested itself in his bearing, and cultivate more -all Christian virtues. Torquatus, also with tears, promised obedience, -knelt down, kissed the good priest’s hand, and obtained his blessing; -then received from him letters of recommendation for his journey, and a -small sum for its moderate expenses. - -At length all was ready; the last farewell was spoken, the last good -wish expressed; and Torquatus, mounted on his mule, with his guide at -its bridle, proceeded slowly along the straight avenue which led to the -gate. Long after every one else had re-entered the house, Chromatius was -standing at the door, looking wistfully, with a moist eye, after him. It -was just such a look as the Prodigal’s father kept fixed on his -departing son. - -As the villa was not on the high road, this modest quadrupedal -conveyance had been hired to take him across the country to Fundi (now -Fondi), as the nearest point where he could reach it. There he was to -find what means he could for prosecuting his journey. Fabiola’s purse, -however, had set him very much at ease on that score. - -The road by which he travelled was varied in its beauties. Sometimes it -wound along the banks of the Liris, gay with villas and cottages. Then -it plunged into a miniature ravine, in the skirts of the Apennines, -walled in by rocks, matted with myrtle, aloes, and the wild vine, amidst -which white goats shone like spots of snow; while beside the path, -gurgled and wriggled on, a tiny brook, that seemed to have worked itself -into the bright conceit that it was a mountain torrent; so great was the -bustle and noise with which it pushed on, and pretended to foam, and -appeared to congratulate itself loudly on having achieved a waterfall by -leaping down two stones at a time, and plunging into an abyss concealed -by a wide acanthus-leaf. Then the road emerged, to enjoy a wide prospect -of the vast garden of Campania, with the blue bay of Cajeta in the -background, speckled by the white sails of its craft, that looked at -that distance like flocks of bright-plumed waterfowl, basking and -fluttering on a lake. - -What were the traveller’s thoughts amidst these shifting scenes of a new -act in his life’s drama? did they amuse him? did they delight him? did -they elevate him, or did they depress? His eye scarcely noted them. It -had run on far beyond them, to the shady porticoes and noisy streets of -the - -[Illustration: Interior of a Roman Theatre.] - -capital. The dusty garden and the artificial fountain, the marble bath -and the painted vault, were more beautiful in his eyes than fresh autumn -vineyards, pure streams, purple ocean, and azure sky. He did not, of -course, for a moment turn his thoughts towards its foul deeds and -impious practices, its luxury, its debauchery, its profaneness, its -dishonesties, its calumnies, its treacheries, its uncleannesses. Oh, no! -what would he, a Christian, have again to do with these? Sometimes, as -his mind became abstracted, it saw, in a dark nook of a hall in the -Thermæ, a table, round which moody but eager gamesters were casting -their knuckle-bone dice; and he felt a quivering creep over him of an -excitement long suppressed; but a pair of mild eyes, like Polycarp’s, -loomed on him from behind the table, and aroused him. Then he caught -himself, in fancy, seated at a maple board, with a ruby gem of Falernian -wine, set in the rim of a golden goblet, and discourse, ungirded by -inebriety, going round with the cup; when the reproving countenance of -Chromatius would seem placed opposite, repelling with a scowl the -approach of either. - -[Illustration: Hall in the Baths of Caracalla.] - -He was, in fact, returning only to the innocent enjoyments of the -imperial city, to its walks, its music, its paintings, its magnificence, -its beauty. He forgot that all these were but the accessories to a -living and panting mass of human beings, whose passions they enkindled, -whose evil desires they inflamed, whose ambition they fanned, whose -resolutions they melted, and whose minds they enervated. Poor youth! he -thought he could walk through that fire and not be scorched! Poor moth! -he imagined he could fly through that flame, and have his wings -unscathed! - -It was in one of his abstracted moods that he journeyed through a narrow -overhung defile, when suddenly he found himself at its opening, with an -inlet of the sea before him, and in it one solitary and motionless -skiff. The sight at once brought to his memory a story of his childhood, -true or false, it mattered not; but he almost fancied its scene was -before him. - -Once upon a time there was a bold young fisherman living on the coast of -southern Italy. One night, stormy and dark, he found that his father and -brothers would not venture out in their tight and strong smack; so he -determined, in spite of every remonstrance, to go alone in the little -cockle-shell attached to it. It blew a gale, but he rode it out in his -tiny buoyant bark, till the sun rose, warm and bright, upon a placid, -glassy sea. Overcome by fatigue and heat, he fell asleep; but, after -some time, was awakened by a loud shouting at a distance. He looked -round and saw the family-boat, the crew of which were crying aloud, and -waving their hands to invite him back; but they made no effort to reach -him. What could they want? what could they mean? He seized his oars, and -began to pull lustily towards them; but he was soon amazed to find that -the fishing-boat, towards which he had turned the prow of his skiff, -appeared upon his quarter; and soon, though he righted his craft, it was -on the opposite side. Evidently he had been making a circle; but the end -came within its beginning, in a spiral curve, and now he was commencing -another and a narrower one. A horrible suspicion flashed upon his mind: -he threw off his tunic and pulled like a madman at his oars. But though -he broke the circle a bit here and a bit there, still round he went, and -every time nearer to the centre, in which he could see a downward -funnel of hissing and foaming water. Then, in despair, he threw down his -oars, and standing he flung up his arms frantically; and a sea-bird -screaming near, heard him cry out as loud as itself, “Charibdis!”[69] -And now the circle his boat went spinning round was only a few times -longer than itself, and he cast himself flat down, and shut his ears and -eyes with his hands, and held his breath, till he felt the waters -gurgling above him, and he was whirled down into the abyss. - -“I wonder,” Torquatus said to himself, “did any one ever perish in this -way? or is it a mere allegory?--if so, of what? Can a person be drawn on -gradually in this manner to spiritual destruction? are my present -thoughts, by any chance, an outer circle, which has caught me, and----” - -“Fundi!” exclaimed the muleteer, pointing to a town before them; and -presently the mule was sliding along the broad flags of its pavement. - -Torquatus looked over his letters, and drew one out for the town. He was -taken to a little inn of the poorest class, by his guide, who was paid -handsomely, and retired swearing and grumbling at the niggardliness of -the traveller. He then inquired the way to the house of Cassianus, the -school-master, found it, and delivered his letter. He received as kind a -welcome as if he had arrived at home; joined his host in a frugal meal, -during which he learned the master’s history. - -A native of Fundi, he had started the school in Rome, with which we -became acquainted at an early period of our history, and had proved -eminently successful. But finding a persecution imminent, and his -Christianity discovered, he had disposed of his school and retired to -his small native town, where he was promised, after the vacation, the -children of the principal inhabitants. In a fellow-Christian he saw -nothing but a brother; and as such he talked freely with him, of his -past adventures and his future prospects. A strange idea dashed through -the mind of Torquatus, that some day that information might be turned -into money. - -It was still early when Torquatus took his leave, and, pretending to -have some business in the town, he would not allow his host to accompany -him. He bought himself some more respectable apparel, went to the best -inn, and ordered a couple of horses, with a postillion to accompany him; -for, to fulfill Fabiola’s commission it was necessary to ride forward -quick, change his horses at each relay, and travel through the night. He -did so till he reached Bovillæ, on the skirts of the Alban hills. Here -he rested, changed his travelling suit, and rode on gaily between the -lines of tombs, which brought him to the gate of that city, within whose -walls there was more of good and more of evil contained, than in any -province of the empire. - -[Illustration: The Peacock, as an Emblem of the Resurrection.] - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE FALL. - - -Torquatus, now elegantly attired, proceeded at once to the house of -Fabius, delivered his letter, answered all inquiries, and accepted, -without much pressing, an invitation to supper that evening. He then -went to seek a respectable lodging, suited to the present state of his -purse; and easily found one. - -Fabius, we have said, did not accompany his daughter into the country, -and rarely visited her there. The fact was, that he had no love for -green fields or running brooks; his tastes were for the gossip and free -society of Rome. During the year, his daughter’s presence was a -restraint on his liberty; but when she was gone, with her establishment, -into Campania, his house presented scenes and entertained persons, that -he would not have presumed to bring in contact with her. Men of -profligate life surrounded his table; and deep drinking till late hours, -with gambling and loose conversation, generally followed his sumptuous -entertainments. - -Having invited Torquatus to sup with him, he went forth in search of -guests to meet him. He soon picked up a batch of sycophants, who were -loitering about his known haunts, in readiness for invitations. But as -he was sauntering home from the baths of Titus, he saw two men in a -small grove round a temple earnestly conversing together. After a -moment’s look, he advanced towards them; but waited, at a small -distance, for a pause in the dialogue, which was something to this -effect. - -“There is no doubt, then, about the news?” - -“None at all. It is quite certain that the people have risen at -Nicomedia and burnt down the church, as they call it, of the Christians, -close to, and in sight of, the palace. My father heard it from the -emperor’s secretary himself this morning.” - -“What ever possessed the fools to go and build a temple, in one of the -most conspicuous places of the metropolis? They must have known that, -sooner or later, the religious spirit of the nation would rise against -them and destroy the eye-sore, as every exhibition of a foreign religion -must be to an empire.” - -“To be sure, as my father says, these Christians, if they had any wit in -them, would hide their heads, and slink into corners, when they are so -condescendingly tolerated for a time by the most humane princes. But as -they do not choose to do so, but will build temples in public instead of -skulking in by-lanes, as they used to do, I for one am not sorry. One -may gain some notoriety, and profit too, by hunting these odious people -down, and destroying them if possible.” - -“Well, be it so; but to come to the purpose. It is understood between -us, that when we can discover who are Christians among the rich, and not -too powerful at first, there shall be a fair division. We will aid one -another. You propose bold and rough means; I will keep my counsel as to -mine. But each shall reap all the profit from those whom he discovers; -and his right proportion from those who are shared between us. Is it not -so?” - -“Exactly.” - -Fabius now stepped forward, with a hearty “How are you, Fulvius? I have -not seen you for an age; come and sup with me to-day, I have friends -engaged; and your friend too,--Corvinus, I believe” (the gentleman -alluded to made an uncouth bow), “will accompany you, I hope.” - -“Thank you,” replied Fulvius; “but I fear I have an engagement already.” - -“Nonsense, man,” said the good-natured knight; “there is nobody left in -the city with whom you could sup, except myself. But has my house the -plague, that you have never ventured into it, since you dined there with -Sebastian, and quarrelled with him? Or did you get struck by some -magical charm, which has driven you away?” - -Fulvius turned pale, and drew away Fabius to one side, while he said: -“To tell the truth, something very like it.” - -“I hope,” answered Fabius, somewhat startled, “that the black witch has -been playing no tricks with you; I wish heartily she were out of my -house. But, come,” he continued in good humor, “I really thought you -were struck by a better charm that evening. I have my eyes open; I saw -how your heart was fixed on my little cousin Agnes.” - -Fulvius stared at him, with some amazement; and, after a pause, replied: -“And if it was so, I saw that your daughter made up her mind, that no -good should ever come out of it.” - -“Say you so? Then that explains your constant refusal to come to me -again. But Fabiola is a philosopher, and understands nothing of such -matters. I wish, indeed, she would give up her books, and think of -settling herself in life, instead of preventing others. But I can give -you better news than that; Agnes is as much attached to you as you can -be to her.” - -“Is it possible? How can you happen to know it?” - -“Why, then, to tell you what I should have told you long since, if you -had not fought so shy of me, she confided it to me that very day.” - -“To you?” - -“Yes, to me; those jewels of yours quite won her heart. She told me as -much. I knew she could only mean you. Indeed, I am sure she meant you.” - -Fulvius understood these words of the rich gems which he displayed; -while the knight spoke of the jewels which he imagined Agnes had -received. She had proved, Fulvius was thinking, an easy prize, in spite -of her demureness; and here lay fortune and rank open before him, if he -could only manage his game; when Fabius thus broke in upon his dream: -“Come now, you have only to press your suit boldly; and I tell you, you -will win it, whatever Fabiola may think. But you have nothing to fear -from her now. She and all her servants are absent; her part of the house -is closed, and we enter by the back-door to the more enjoyable part of -the establishment.” - -“I will wait on you without fail,” replied Fulvius. “And Corvinus with -you,” added Fabius, as he turned away. - -We will not describe the banquet further than to say, that wines of rare -excellence flowed so plentifully, that almost all the guests got, more -or less, heated and excited. Fulvius, however, for one, kept himself -cool. - -The news from the East came into discussion. The destruction of the -church at Nicomedia had been followed by incendiary fires in the -imperial palace. Little doubt could exist that the Emperor Galerius was -their author; but he charged them on the Christians; and thus goaded on -the reluctant mind of Dioclesian to become their fiercest persecutor. -Every one began to see that, before many months were over, the imperial -edict to commence the work of destruction would reach Rome, and find in -Maximian a ready executor. - -The guests were generally inclined to gore the stricken deer; for -generosity, in favor of those whom popular clamor hunts down, requires -an amount of courage too heroic to be common. Even the most liberal -found reasons for Christians being excepted from all kind consideration. -One could not bear their mysteriousness, another was vexed at their -supposed progress; this man thought them opposed to the real glory of -the empire, that considered them a foreign element, that ought to be -eliminated from it. One thought their doctrine detestable, another their -practice infamous. During all this debate, if it could be so called, -where both sides came to the same conclusion, Fulvius, after having -glanced from one to the other of the guests, had fixed his evil eye upon -Torquatus. - -The youth was silent; but his countenance, by turns, was pale and -flushed. Wine had given him a rash courage, which some strong principle -restrained. Now he clenched his hand, and pressed it to his breast; now -he bit his lip. At one time he was crumbling the bread between his -fingers; at another, he drank off, unconsciously, a cup of wine. - -“These Christians hate us, and would destroy us all if they could,” said -one. Torquatus leaned forward, opened his lips, but remained silent. - -“Destroy us, indeed! Did they not burn Rome, under Nero; and have they -not just set fire to the palace in Asia, over the emperor’s head?” asked -a second. Torquatus rose upon his couch, stretched forth his hand, as if -about to reply, but drew it back. - -“But what is infinitely worse is, their maintaining such anti-social -doctrines, conniving at such frightful excesses, and degrading -themselves to the disgusting worship of an ass’s head,” proceeded a -third. Torquatus now fairly writhed; and rising, had lifted his arm, -when Fulvius, with a cool calculation of time and words, added, in -bitter sarcasm: “Ay, and massacre a child, and devour his flesh and -blood, at every assembly.”[70] - -The arm descended on the table, with a blow that made every goblet and -beaker dance and ring, as, in a choked voice, Torquatus exclaimed: “It -is a lie! a cursed lie!” - -“How can you know that?” asked Fulvius, with his blandest tone and look. - -“Because,” answered the other, with great excitement, “I am myself a -Christian; and ready to die for my faith!” - -If the beautiful alabaster statue, with a bronze head, in the niche -beside the table, had fallen forward, and been smashed on the marble -pavement, it could not have caused a more fearful sensation than this -sudden announcement. All were startled for a moment. Next, a long blank -pause ensued, after which, each began to show his feelings in his -features. Fabius looked exceedingly foolish, as if conscious that he had -brought his guests into bad company. Calpurnius puffed himself out, -evidently thinking himself ill-used, by having a guest brought in, who -might absurdly be supposed to know more about Christians than himself. A -young man opened his mouth as he stared at Torquatus; and a testy old -gentleman was evidently hesitating, whether he should not knock down -somebody or other, no matter whom. Corvinus looked at the poor Christian -with the sort of grin of delight, half idiotic, half savage, with which -a countryman might gaze upon the vermin that he finds in his trap in a -morning. Here was a man ready to hand, to put on the rack, or the -gridiron, whenever he pleased. But the look of Fulvius was worth them -all. If ever any microscopic observer has had the opportunity of -witnessing the expression of the spider’s features, when, after a long -fast, it sees a fly, plump with others’ blood, approach its net, and -keenly watches every stroke of its wing, and studies how it can best -throw only the first thread round it, sure that then all that gorges it -shall be its own; that we fancy would be the best image of his looks, as -certainly it is of his feelings. To get hold of a Christian, ready to -turn traitor, had long been his desire and study. Here, he was sure, was -one, if he could only manage him. How did he know this? Because he knew -sufficient of Christians to be convinced, that no genuine one would have -allowed himself either to drink to excess, or to boast of his readiness -to court martyrdom. - -The company broke up; every body slunk away from the discovered -Christian, as from one pest-stricken. He felt alone and depressed, when -Fulvius, who had whispered a word to Fabius, and to Corvinus, went up to -him, and taking him by the hand said, courteously: “I fear, I spoke -inconsiderately, in drawing out from you a declaration which may prove -dangerous.” - -“I fear nothing,” replied Torquatus, again excited; “I will stand to my -colors to the last.” - -“Hush, hush!” broke in Fulvius, “the slaves may betray you. Come with me -to another chamber, where we can talk quietly together.” - -So saying, he led him into an elegant room, where Fabius had ordered -goblets and flagons of the richest Falernian wine to be brought, for -such as, according to Roman fashion, liked to enjoy a _commissatio_, or -drinking-bout. But only Corvinus, engaged by Fulvius, followed. - -On a beautifully inlaid table were dice. Fulvius, after plying Torquatus -with more liquor, negligently took them up, and threw them playfully -down, talking in the mean time on indifferent subjects. “Dear me!” he -kept exclaiming, “what throws! It is well I am not playing with any one, -or I should have been ruined. You try, Torquatus.” - -Gambling, as we learnt before, had been the ruin of Torquatus: for a -transaction arising out of it he was in prison when Sebastian converted -him. As he took the dice into his hand, with no intention, as he -thought, of playing, Fulvius watched him as a lynx might its prey. -Torquatus’s eye flashed keenly, his lips quivered, his hand trembled. -Fulvius at once recognized in all this, coupled with the poising of his -hand, the knowing cast of the wrist, and the sharp eye to the value of -the throw, the violence of a first temptation to resume a renounced -vice. - -“I fear you are not a better hand than I am at this stupid occupation,” -said he indifferently; “but, I dare say, Corvinus here will give you a -chance, if you will stake something very low.” - -“It must be very low indeed,--merely for recreation; for I have -renounced gambling. Once, indeed--but no matter.” - -“Come on,” said Corvinus, whom Fulvius had pressed to his work by a -look. - -They began to throw for the most trifling stakes, and Torquatus -generally won. Fulvius made him drink still, from time to time, and he -became very talkative. - -“Corvinus, Corvinus,” he said at length, as if recollecting himself, -“was not that the name that Cassianus mentioned?” - -“Who?” asked the other, surprised. - -“Yes, it was,” continued Torquatus to himself,--“the bully, the big -brute. Were you the person,” he asked, looking up to Corvinus, “who -struck that nice Christian boy Pancratius?” - -Corvinus was on the point of bursting into a rage; but Fulvius checked -him by a gesture, and said, with timely interference: - -“That Cassianus whom you mentioned is an eminent school-master; pray, -where does he live?” - -This he knew his companion wished to ascertain; and thus he quieted him. -Torquatus answered: - -“He lives, let me see,--no, no; I won’t turn traitor. No; I am ready to -be burnt, or tortured, or die for my faith; but I won’t betray any -one,--that I won’t.” - -“Let me take your place, Corvinus,” said Fulvius, who saw Torquatus’s -interest in the game deepening. He put forth sufficient skill to make -his antagonist more careful and more intent. He threw down a somewhat -larger stake. Torquatus, after a moment’s pause of deliberation, matched -it. He won it. Fulvius seemed vexed. Torquatus threw back both sums. -Fulvius seemed to hesitate, but put down an equivalent, and lost again. -The play was now silent: each won and lost; but Fulvius had steadily the -advantage, and he was the more collected of the two. - -Once Torquatus looked up and started. He thought he saw the good -Polycarp behind his adversary’s chair. He rubbed his eyes, and saw it -was only Corvinus staring at him. All his skill was now put forth. -Conscience had retreated; faith was wavering; grace had already -departed. For the demon of covetousness, of rapine, of dishonesty, of -recklessness, had come back, and brought with him seven spirits worse -than himself, to that cleansed but ill-guarded soul; and as they entered -in, all that was holy, all that was good, departed. - -At length, worked up, by repeated losses and draughts of wine, into a -frenzy, after he had drawn frequently upon the heavy purse which Fabiola -had given him, he threw the purse itself upon the table. Fulvius coolly -opened it, emptied it, counted the money, and placed opposite an equal -heap of gold. Each prepared himself for a final throw. The fatal bones -fell; each glanced silently upon their spots. Fulvius drew the money -towards himself. Torquatus fell upon the table, his head buried and -hidden within his arms. Fulvius motioned Corvinus out of the room. - -Torquatus beat the ground with his foot; then moaned, next gnashed his -teeth and growled; then put his fingers in - -[Illustration: The Ruins of the Roman Forum, as they are To-day.] - -his hair, and begun to pull and tear it. A voice whispered in his ear, -“Are you a Christian?” Which of the seven spirits was it? surely the -worst. - -“It is hopeless,” continued the voice; “you have disgraced your -religion, and you have betrayed it too.” - -“No, no,” groaned the despairing wretch. - -“Yes; in your drunkenness you have told us all: quite enough to make it -impossible for you ever to return to those you have betrayed.” - -“Begone, begone,” exclaimed piteously the tortured sinner. “They will -forgive me still. God----” - -“Silence; utter not His name: you are degraded, perjured, hopelessly -lost. You are a beggar; to-morrow you must beg your bread. You are an -outcast, a ruined prodigal and gamester. Who will look at you? will your -Christian friends? And nevertheless you _are_ a Christian; you will be -torn to pieces by some cruel death for it; yet you will not be -worshipped by them as one of their martyrs. You are a hypocrite, -Torquatus, and nothing more.” - -“Who is it that is tormenting me?” he exclaimed, and looked up. Fulvius -was standing with folded arms at his side. “And if all this be true, -what is it to you? What have you to say more to me?” he continued. - -“Much more than you think. You have betrayed yourself into my power -completely. I am master of your money”--(and he showed him Fabiola’s -purse)--“of your character, of your peace, of your life. I have only to -let your fellow-Christians know what you have done, what you have said, -what you have been to-night, and you dare not face them. I have only to -let that ‘bully--that big brute,’ as you called him, but who is son of -the prefect of the city, loose upon you, (and no one else can now -restrain him after such provocation), and to-morrow you will be standing -before his father’s tribunal to die for that religion which you have -betrayed and disgraced. Are you ready _now_, any longer, to reel and -stagger as a drunken gambler, to represent your Christianity before the -judgment-seat in the Forum?” - -The fallen man had not courage to follow the prodigal in repentance, as -he had done in sin. Hope was dead in him; for he had relapsed into his -capital sin, and scarcely felt remorse. He remained silent, till Fulvius -aroused him by asking, “Well, have you made your choice; either to go at -once to the Christians with to-night on your head, or to-morrow to the -court? Which do you choose?” - -Torquatus raised his eyes to him, with a stolid look, and faintly -answered, “Neither.” - -“Come, then, what will you do?” asked Fulvius, mastering him with one of -his falcon glances. - -“What you like,” said Torquatus, “only neither of those things.” - -Fulvius sat down beside him, and said, in a soft and soothing voice, -“Now, Torquatus, listen to me; do as I tell you, and all is mended. You -shall have house, and food, and apparel, ay, and money to play with, if -you will only do my bidding.” - -“And what is that?” - -“Rise to-morrow as usual; put on your Christian face; go freely among -your friends; act as if nothing had happened; but answer all my -questions, tell me every thing.” - -Torquatus groaned, “A traitor at last!” - -“Call it what you will; that or death! Ay, death by inches. I hear -Corvinus pacing impatiently up and down the court. Quick! which is it to -be?” - -“Not death! Oh, no, any thing but that!” - -Fulvius went out, and found his friend fuming with rage and wine; he had -hard work to pacify him. Corvinus had almost forgotten Cassianus in -fresher resentments; but all his former hatred had been rekindled, and -he burnt for revenge. Fulvius promised to find out where he lived, and -used this means to secure the suspension of any violent and immediate -measure. - -Having sent Corvinus sulky and fretting home, he returned to Torquatus, -whom he wished to accompany, that he might ascertain his lodgings. As -soon as he had left the room, his victim had arisen from his chair, and -endeavored, by walking up and down, to steady his senses and regain -self-possession. But it was in vain; his head was swimming from his -inebriety, and his subsequent excitement. The apartment seemed to turn -round and round, and float up and down; he was sick too, and his heart -was beating almost audibly. Shame, remorse, self-contempt, hatred of his -destroyers and of himself, the desolateness of the outcast, and the -black despair of the reprobate, rolled like dark billows through his -soul, each coming in turn uppermost. Unable to sustain himself longer on -his feet, he threw himself on his face upon a silken couch, and buried -his burning brow in his icy hands, and groaned. And still all whirled -round and round him, and a constant moaning sounded in his ears. - -[Illustration: A Dove, as an Emblem of the Soul.] - -Fulvius found him in this state, and touched his shoulder to rouse him. -Torquatus shuddered, and was convulsed; then exclaimed: “Can this be -Charybdis?” - -[Illustration: Diogenes the excavator, from a painting in the Cemetery -of Domitilla.[71]] - - - - -Part Second.--Conflict. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -DIOGENES. - - -The scenes through which we have hitherto led our reader have been laid -in one of those slippery truces, rather than peace, which often -intervened between persecution and persecution. Already rumors of war -have crossed our path, and its note of preparation has been distinctly -heard. The roar of the lions near the Amphitheatre, which startled but -dismayed not Sebastian, the reports from the East, the hints of Fulvius, -and the threats of Corvinus, have brought us the same news, that before -long the horrors of persecution will re-appear, and Christian blood will -have to flow, in a fuller and nobler stream than had hitherto watered -the Paradise of the New Law. The Church, ever calmly provident, cannot -neglect the many signs of a threatened combat, nor the preparations -necessary for meeting it. From the moment she earnestly begins to arm -herself, we date the second period of our narrative. It is the -commencement of conflict. - -[Illustration: Jonas, after a painting in the Cemetery of Callistus.] - -It was towards the end of October that a young man, not unknown to us, -closely muffled up in his cloak, for it was dark and rather chill, might -be seen threading his way through the narrow alleys of the district -called the Suburra; a region, the extent and exact position of which is -still under dispute, but which lay in the immediate vicinity of the -Forum. As vice is unfortunately too often linked with poverty, the two -found a common asylum here. Pancratius did not seem much at home in this -part of the city, and made several wrong turns, till at length he found -the street he was in search of. Still, without numbers on the doors, the -house he wanted was an unsolved problem, although not quite insoluble. -He looked for the neatest dwelling in the street; and - -[Illustration: Lazarus raised from the dead. A similar representation is -found in the Catacomb _Inter duos lauros_, and in the Cemetery of Saints -Nereus and Achilles.] - -being particularly struck with the cleanliness and good order of one -beyond the rest, he boldly knocked at its door. It was opened by an old -man, whose name has already appeared in our pages, Diogenes. He was tall -and broad-shouldered, as if accustomed to bear burdens, which, however, -had given him a stoop in his gait. His hair was a perfect silver, and -hung down at the sides of a large massive head; his features were -strongly marked in deep melancholy lines, and though the expression of -his countenance was calm, it was solemnly sad. He looked like one who -had lived much among the dead, and was happiest in their company. His -two sons, Majus and Severus, fine athletic youths, were with him. The -first was busy carving, or scratching rather, a rude epitaph on an old -slab of marble, the reverse of which still bore traces of a heathen -sepulchral inscription, rudely effaced by its new possessor. - -[Illustration: Two _fossores_, or excavators, from a picture in the -Cemetery of Callistus.] - -Pancratius looked over the work in hand and smiled; there was hardly a -word rightly spelt, or a part of speech correct; indeed, here it is: - - =DE BIANOBA - POLLECLA QVE ORDEV BENDET DE BIANOBA=[72] - -The other son was making a rough design, in which could be distinguished -Jonas devoured by the whale, and Lazarus raised from the dead, both most -conventionally drawn with charcoal on a board; a sketch evidently for a -more permanent painting elsewhere. Further, it was clear that when the -knock came to the door, old Diogenes was busy fitting a new handle to an -old pick-axe. These varied occupations in one family might have -surprised a modern, but they did not at all the youthful visitor; he -well knew that the family belonged to the honorable and religious craft -of the Fossores, or excavators of the Christian cemeteries. Indeed, -Diogenes was the head and director of that confraternity. In conformity -with the assertion of an anonymous writer, contemporary with St. Jerome, -some modern antiquarians have considered the _fossor_ as forming a -lesser ecclesiastical order in the primitive Church, like the _lector_, -or reader. But although this opinion is untenable, it is extremely -probable that the duties of this office were in the hands of persons -appointed and recognized by ecclesiastical authority. The uniform system -pursued in excavating, arranging, and filling up of the numerous -cemeteries round Rome, a system too, so complete from the beginning, as -not to leave positive signs of improvement or change as time went on, -gives us reason to conclude that these wonderful and venerable works -were carried on under one direction, and probably by some body -associated for that purpose. It was not a cemetery or necropolis -company, which made a speculation of burying the dead, but rather a -pious and recognized confraternity which was associated for the purpose. - -A series of interesting inscriptions, found in the cemetery of St. -Agnes, proves that this occupation was continued in particular families; -grandfather, father, and sons, having carried it on in the same -place.[73] We can thus easily understand the great skill and uniformity -of practice observable in the catacombs. But the _fossores_ had -evidently a higher office, or even jurisdiction, in that underground -world. Though the Church provided space for the burial of all her -children, it was natural that some should make compensation for their -place of sepulture, if chosen in a favorite spot, such as the vicinity -of a martyr’s tomb. These sextons had the management of such -transactions, which are often recorded in the ancient cemeteries. The -following inscription is preserved in the Capitol: - - =EMPTV LOCVM AB ARTEMISIVM VISOMVM HOC EST - ET PRAETIVM DATVM FOSSORI HILARO IDEST - FOL NOOD PRAESENTIA SEVERI FOSS ET LAVRENTI= - -That is-- - - “This is the grave for two bodies, bought by Artimisius; and the - price was given to the Fossor Hilarus,--that is, purses....[74] In - the presence of Severus the Fossor and Laurentius.” - -Possibly the last named was the witness on the purchaser’s side, and -Severus on the seller’s. However this may be, we trust we have laid -before our readers all that is known about the profession, as such, of -Diogenes and his sons. - -We left Pancratius amused at Majus’s rude attempts in glyptic art; his -next step was to address him. - -“Do you always execute these inscriptions yourself?” - -“Oh, no,” answered the artist, looking up and smiling. “I do them for -poor people who cannot afford to pay a better hand. This was a good -woman who kept a small shop in the _Vianova_, and you may suppose did -not become rich, especially as she was very honest. And yet a curious -thought struck me as I was carving her epitaph.” - -“Let me hear it, Majus.” - -“It was, that perhaps some thousand years hence or more, Christians -might read with reverence my scratches on the wall, and hear of poor old -Pollecla and her barley stall with interest, while the inscription of -not a single emperor, who persecuted the Church, would be read or even -known.” - -“Well, I can hardly imagine that the superb mausoleums of sovereigns -will fall to utter decay, and yet the memory of a market-wife descend to -distant ages. But what is your reason for thinking thus?” - -“Simply because I would sooner commit to the keeping of posterity the -memory of the pious poor than that of the wicked rich. And my rude -record may possibly be read when triumphal arches have been demolished. -It’s dreadfully written though, is it not?” - -[Illustration: A gallery in the Cemetery of St. Agnes, on the Nomentan -Way.] - -“Never mind that; its simplicity is worth much fine writing. What is -that slab leaning against the wall?” - -“Ah, that _is_ a beautiful inscription brought us to put up; you will -see the writer and engraver were different people. It is to go to the -cemetery at the Lady Agnes’s villa, on the Nomentan way. I believe it is -in memory of a most sweet child, whose death is deeply felt by his -virtuous parents.” Pancratius took a light to it, and read as follows: - -[Illustration: Inscription of the Cemetery of Saint Agnes.] - - “The innocent boy Dionysius lieth here among the saints. Remember - us in your holy prayers, the writer and the engraver.” - -“Dear, happy child!” continued Pancratius, when he had perused the -inscription: “add me the reader, to the writer and carver of thine -epitaph, in thy holy prayers.” - -“Amen,” answered the pious family. - -But Pancratius, attracted by a certain husky sound in Diogenes’s voice, -turned round, and saw the old man vigorously trying to cut off the end -of a little wedge which he had driven into the top of the handle of his -pick-axe, to keep it fast in the iron; but every moment baffled by some -defect in his vision, which he removed by drawing the back of his brawny -hand across his eyes. “What is the matter, my good old friend?” said the -youth kindly. “Why does this epitaph of young Dionysius particularly -affect you?” - -“It does not of itself; but it reminds me of so much that is past, and -suggests so much that may be about to come, that I feel almost faint to -think of either.” - -“What are your painful thoughts, Diogenes?” - -“Why, do you see, it is all simple enough to take into one’s arms a good -child like Dionysius, wrapped in his cerecloth, fragrant with spices, -and lay him in his grave. His parents may weep, but his passage from -sorrow to joy was easy and sweet. It is a very different thing, and -requires a heart as hardened as mine by practice” (another stroke of the -hand across the eyes) “to gather up hastily the torn flesh and broken -limbs of such another youth, to wrap them hurriedly in their -winding-sheet, then fold them into another sheet full of lime, instead -of balsams, and shove them precipitately into their tomb.[75] How -differently one would wish to treat a martyr’s body!” - -[Illustration: An _Arcosolium_.] - -“True, Diogenes; but a brave officer prefers the plain soldier’s grave, -on the field of battle, to the carved sarcophagus on the Via Appia. But -are such scenes as you describe common, in times of persecution?” - -“By no means uncommon, my good young master. I am sure a pious youth -like you must have visited, on his anniversary, the tomb of Restitutus -in the cemetery of Hermes.” - -“Indeed I have, and often have I been almost jealous of his early -martyrdom. Did you bury him?” - -“Yes; and his parents had a beautiful tomb made, the _arcosolium_ of his -crypt.[76] My father and I made it of six slabs of marble, hastily -collected, and I engraved the inscription now beside it. I think I -carved better than Majus there,” added the old man, now quite cheerful. - -“That is not saying much for yourself, father,” rejoined his son, no -less smiling; “but here is the copy of the inscription which you wrote,” -he added, drawing out a parchment from a number of sheets. - -“I remember it perfectly,” said Pancratius, glancing over it, and -reading it as follows, correcting the errors in orthography, but not -those in grammar, as he read: - -[Illustration] - - “To Ælius Fabius Restitutus, their most pious son, his parents - erected (this tomb). Who lived eighteen years and seven months. In - peace.” - -He continued: “What a glorious youth, to have confessed Christ at such -an age!” - -“No doubt,” replied the old man; “but I dare say you have always thought -that his body reposes alone in his sepulchre. Any one would think so -from the inscription.” - -“Certainly I have always thought so. Is it otherwise?” - -“Yes, noble Pancratius, he has a comrade younger than himself lying in -the same bed. As we were closing the tomb of Restitutus, the body of a -boy not more than twelve or thirteen years old was brought to us. Oh, I -shall never forget the sight! He had been hung over a fire, and his -head, trunk, and limbs nearly to the knees, were burnt to the very bone; -and so disfigured was he that no feature could be recognized. Poor -little fellow, what he must have suffered! But why should I pity him? -Well, we were pressed for time, and we thought the youth of eighteen -would not grudge room for his fellow-soldier of twelve, but would own -him for a younger brother; so we laid him at Ælius Fabius’s feet. But we -had no second phial of blood to put outside, that a second martyr might -be known to lie there; for the fire had dried his blood up in his -veins.”[77] - -“What a noble boy! If the first was older, the second was younger than -I. What say you, Diogenes, don’t you think it likely you may have to -perform the same office for me one of these days?” - -“Oh, no, I hope not,” said the old digger, with a return of his husky -voice. “Do not, I entreat you, allude to such a possibility. Surely my -own time must come sooner. How the old trees are spared, indeed, and the -young plants cut down!” - -“Come, come, my good friend, I won’t afflict you. But I have almost -forgotten to deliver the message I came to bring. It is, that to-morrow -at dawn you must come to my mother’s house, to arrange about preparing -the cemeteries for our coming troubles. Our holy Pope will be there, -with the priests of the titles, the regionary deacons, the notaries, -whose number has been filled up, and you, the head _fossor_, that all -may act in concert.” - -“I will not fail, Pancratius,” replied Diogenes. - -“And now,” added the youth, “I have a favor to ask you.” - -“A favor from me?” asked the old man, surprised. - -“Yes; you will have to begin your work immediately, I suppose. Now, -often as I have visited, for devotion, our sacred cemeteries, I have -never studied or examined them; and this I should like to do with you, -who know them so well.” - -“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” answered Diogenes, somewhat -flattered by the compliment, but still more pleased by this love for -what he so much loved. “After I have received my instructions, I shall -go at once to the cemetery of Callistus. Meet me out of the Porta -Capena, half an hour before mid-day, and we will go on together.” - -“But I shall not be alone,” continued Pancratius. “Two youths, recently -baptized, desire much to become acquainted with our cemeteries, which -they do not yet much know; and have asked me to initiate them there.” - -“Any friends of yours will be always welcome. What are their names, that -we may make no mistake?” - -“One is Tiburtius, the son of Chromatius, the late prefect; the other is -a young man named Torquatus.” - -Severus started a little, and said: “Are you quite sure about him, -Pancratius?” - -Diogenes rebuked him, saying, “That he comes to us in Pancratius’s -company is security enough.” - -“I own,” interposed the youth, “that I do not know as much about him as -about Tiburtius, who is really a gallant, noble fellow. Torquatus is, -however, very anxious to obtain all information about our affairs, and -seems in earnest. What makes you fear, Severus?” - -“Only a trifle, indeed. But as I was going early to the cemetery this -morning, I turned into the Baths of Antoninus.”[78] - -“What!” interrupted Pancratius, laughing, “do you frequent such -fashionable resorts?” - -“Not exactly,” replied the honest artist; “but you are not perhaps aware -that Cucumio the _capsarius_[79] and his wife are Christians?” - -“Is it possible; where shall we find them next?” - -“Well, so it is; and moreover they are making a tomb for themselves in -the cemetery of Callistus; and I had to show them Majus’s inscription -for it.” - -“Here it is,” said the latter, exhibiting it, as follows: - - CVCVMIO ET VICTORIA - SE VIVOS FECERVNT - CAPSARARIVS DE ANTONINIANAS.[80] - -“Capital!” exclaimed Pancratius, amused at the blunders in the epitaph; -“but we are forgetting Torquatus.” - -“As I entered the building, then,” said Severus, “I was not a little -surprised to find in one corner, at that early hour, this Torquatus in -close conversation with the present prefect’s son, Corvinus, the -pretended cripple, who thrust himself into Agnes’s house, you remember, -when some charitable unknown person (God bless him!) gave large alms to -the poor there. Not good company I thought, and at such an hour, for a -Christian.” - -“True, Severus,” returned Pancratius, blushing deeply; “but he is young -as yet in the faith, and probably his old friends do not know of his -change. We will hope for the best.” - -The two young men offered to accompany Pancratius, who rose to leave, -and see him safe through the poor and profligate neighborhood. He -accepted their courtesy with pleasure, and bade the old excavator a -hearty good night. - -[Illustration: Our Saviour blessing the Bread, from a picture in the -Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE CEMETERIES. - -+=========================+ || M. ANTONI || || VS. RESTVTV || || S. -FECIT. YPO || || CEVSIBI. ET || || SVIS. FIDENTI || || BVS. IN. -DOMINO.][81]|| +=========================+ - - -It seems to us as though we had neglected one, whose character and -thoughts opened this little history, the pious Lucina. Her virtues were -indeed of that quiet, unobtrusive nature, which affords little scope for -appearing on a public scene, or taking part in general affairs. Her -house, besides being, or rather containing, a title or parochial church, -was now honored by being the residence of the supreme Pontiff. The -approach of a violent persecution, in which the rulers of Christ’s -spiritual kingdom were sure to be the first sought out, as the enemies -of Cæsar, - -[Illustration: A Staircase in the Catacombs.] - -[Illustration: The Martyr’s Widow.] - -rendered it necessary to transfer the residence of the Ruler of the -Church, from his ordinary dwelling, to a securer asylum. For this -purpose Lucina’s house was chosen; and it continued to be so occupied, -to her great delight, in that and the following pontificate, when the -wild beasts were ordered to be transferred to it, that Pope Marcellus -might feed them at home. This loathsome punishment soon caused his -death. - -Lucina admitted, at forty,[82] into the order of deaconesses, found -plenty of occupation in the duties of her office. The charge and -supervision of the women in church, the care of the sick and poor of her -own sex, the making, and keeping in order of sacred vestments and linen -for the altar, and the instruction of children and female converts -preparing for baptism, as well as the attending them at that sacred -rite, belonged to the deaconesses, and gave sufficient occupation in -addition to domestic offices. In the exercise of both these classes of -duties, Lucina quietly passed her life. Its main object seemed to be -attained. Her son had offered himself to God; and lived ready to shed -his blood for the faith. To watch over him, and pray for him, were her -delight, rather than an additional employment. - -Early in the morning of the appointed day, the meeting mentioned in our -last chapter took place. It will be sufficient to say, that in it full -instructions were given for increasing the collection of alms, to be -employed in enlarging the cemeteries and burying the dead, in succoring -those driven to concealment by persecution, in nourishing prisoners, and -obtaining access to them, and finally in ransoming or rescuing the -bodies of martyrs. A notary was named for each region, to collect their -acts and record interesting events. The cardinals, or titular priests, -received instructions about the administration of sacraments, -particularly of the Holy Eucharist, during the persecution; and to each -was intrusted one cemetery or more, in whose subterranean church he was -to perform the sacred mysteries. The holy Pontiff chose for himself that -of Callistus, which made Diogenes, its chief sexton, not a little, but -innocently, proud. - -[Illustration: A Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament.] - -The good old excavator seemed rather more cheery than otherwise, under -the exciting forebodings of a coming persecution. No commanding officer -of engineers could have given his orders more briskly, or more -decidedly, for the defence of a fortified city committed to his skill to -guard, than he issued his to the subordinate superintendents of the -various cemeteries round Rome, who met him by appointment at his own -house, to learn the instructions of the superior assembly. The shadow of -the sun-dial at the Porta Capena was pointing to mid-day, as he issued -from it with his sons, and found already waiting the three young men. -They walked in parties of two along the Appian road; and at nearly two -miles from the - -[Illustration: Underground gallery in the Catacombs, from Th. Roller’s -“Catacombes de Rome.”] - -gate,[83] they entered by various ways (slipping round different tombs -that lined the road) into the same villa on the right-hand. Here they -found all the requisites for a descent into the subterranean cemeteries, -such as candles, lanterns, and the instruments for procuring light. -Severus proposed that, as the guides and the strangers were in equal -number, they should be divided into pairs; and in the division he -allotted Torquatus to himself. What his reason was we may easily -conjecture. - -It would probably weary our readers to follow the whole conversation of -the party. Diogenes not only answered all questions put to him, but, -from time to time, gave intelligent little lectures, on such objects as -he considered peculiarly attractive. But we believe we shall better -interest and inform _our_ friends, if we digest the whole matter of -these into a more connected narrative. And besides, they will wish to -know something of the subsequent history of those wonderful excavations, -into which we have conducted our youthful pilgrims. - -The history of the early Christian cemeteries, the _Catacombs_ as they -are commonly called, may be divided into three portions: from their -beginning to the period of our narrative, or a few years later; from -this term to the eighth century; then down to our own time, when we have -reason to hope that a new epoch is being commenced. - -We have generally avoided using the name of catacombs, because it might -mislead our readers into an idea that this was either the original or a -generic name of those early Christian crypts. It is not so, however: -Rome might be said to be surrounded by a circumvallation of cemeteries, -sixty or thereabouts in number, each of which was generally known by the -name of some saint or saints, whose bodies reposed there. Thus we have -the cemeteries of SS. Nereus and Achilleus, - -[Illustration: THE TOMB OF SAINT CECILIA. - -On October 20, 1599, Cardinal Sfondrati had her tomb opened, and the -body of the saint, in a state of perfect preservation, was found in the -position here depicted. The sculptor, Stefano Maderno, made an exact -copy of it, and his statue now ornaments her tomb.] of St. Agnes, of -St. Pancratius, of Prætextatus, Priscilla, Hermes, &c. Sometimes these -cemeteries were known by the names of the places where they existed.[84] -The cemetery of St. Sebastian, which was called sometimes _Cœmeterium ad -Sanctam Cæciliam_,[85] and by other names, had among them that of _Ad -Catacumbas_.[86] The meaning of this word is completely unknown; though -it may be attributed to the circumstance of the relics of SS. Peter and -Paul having been for a time buried there, in a crypt still existing near -the cemetery. This term became the name of that particular cemetery, -then was generalized, till we familiarly call the whole system of these -underground excavations--the Catacombs. - -Their origin was, in the last century, a subject of controversy. -Following two or three vague and equivocal passages, some learned -writers pronounced the catacombs to have been originally heathen -excavations, made to extract sand for the building of the city. These -sand-pits were called _arenaria_, and so occasionally are the Christian -cemeteries. But a more scientific and minute examination, particularly -made by the accurate F. Marchi, has completely confuted this theory. The -entrance to the catacombs was often, as can yet be seen, from these -sand-pits, which are themselves under ground, and no doubt were a -convenient cover for the cemetery; but several circumstances prove that -they were never used for Christian burial, nor converted into Christian -cemeteries. - -The man who wishes to get the sand out of the ground will keep his -excavation as near as may be to the surface; will have it of easiest -possible access, for drawing out materials; and will make it as ample as -is consistent with the safety of the roof, and the supply of what he is -seeking. And all this we find in the _arenaria_ still abounding round -Rome. But the catacombs are constructed on principles exactly contrary -to all these. - -The catacomb dives at once, generally by a steep flight of steps, below -the stratum of loose and friable sand,[87] into that where it is -indurated to the hardness of a tender, but consistent rock; on the -surface of which every stroke of the pickaxe is yet distinctly -traceable. When you have reached this depth you are in the first story -of the cemetery, for you descend again by stairs to the second and third -below, all constructed on the same principle. - -A catacomb may be divided into three parts, its passages or streets, its -chambers or squares, and its churches. The passages are long, narrow -galleries, cut with tolerable regularity, so that the roof and floor are -at right angles with the sides, often so narrow as scarcely to allow two -persons to go abreast. They sometimes run quite straight to a great -length; but they are crossed by others, and these again by others, so as -to form a complete labyrinth, or net-work, of subterranean corridors. To -be lost among them would easily be fatal. - -But these passages are not constructed, as the name would imply, merely -to lead to something else. They are themselves the catacomb or cemetery. -Their walls, as well as the sides of the staircases, are honeycombed -with graves, that is, with rows of excavations, large and small, of -sufficient length to admit a human body, from a child to a full-grown -man, laid with its side to the gallery. Sometimes there are as many as -fourteen, sometimes as few as three or four, of these rows, one above -the other. They are evidently so made to measure, that it is probable -the body was lying by the side of the grave, while this was being dug. - -When the corpse, wrapped up, as we heard from Diogenes, was laid in its -narrow cell, the front was hermetically closed either by a marble slab, -or more frequently by several broad tiles, put edgeways in a groove or -mortice, cut for them in the rock, and cemented all round. The -inscription was cut upon the marble, or scratched in the wet mortar. -Thousands of the former sort have been collected, and may be seen in -museums and churches; many of the latter have been copied and published; -but by far the greater number of tombs are anonymous, and have no record -upon them. And now the reader may reasonably ask, through what period -does the interment in the catacombs range, and how are its limits -determined. We will try to content him, as briefly as possible. - -[Illustration: A _loculus_, closed.] - -There is no evidence of the Christians having ever buried any where, -anteriorily to the construction of catacombs. Two principles as old as -Christianity regulate this mode of burial. The first is, the manner of -Christ’s entombment. He was laid in a grave in a cavern, wrapped up in -linen, embalmed with spices; and a stone, sealed up, closed His -sepulchre. As St. Paul so often proposes Him for the model of our -resurrection, and speaks of our being buried with Him in baptism, it was -natural for His disciples to wish to be buried after His example, so as -to be ready to rise with Him. - -This lying in wait for resurrection was the second thought that guided -the formation of these cemeteries. Every expression connected with them -alluded to the rising again. The word to _bury_ is unknown in Christian -inscriptions. “_Deposited_ in peace,” “the _deposition_ of ----,” are the -expressions used: that is, the dead are but left there for a time, till -called for again, as a pledge, or precious thing, intrusted to faithful, -but temporary, keeping. The very name of cemetery suggests that it is -only a place where many lie, as in a dormitory, slumbering for a while; -till dawn come, and the trumpet’s sound awake them. Hence the grave is -only called “the place,” or more technically, “the small home,”[88] of -the dead in Christ. - -These two ideas, which are combined in the planning of the catacombs, -were not later insertions into the Christian system, but must have been -more vivid in its earlier times. They inspired abhorrence of the pagan -custom of burning the dead; nor have we a hint that this mode was, at -any time, adopted by Christians. - -But ample proof is to be found in the catacombs themselves, of their -early origin. The style of paintings, yet remaining, belongs to a period -of still flourishing art. Their symbols, and the symbolical taste -itself, are characteristic of a very ancient period. For this peculiar -taste declined, as time went on. Although inscriptions with dates are -rare, yet out of ten thousand collected, and about to be published, by -the learned and sagacious Cavalier De Rossi, about three hundred are -found bearing consular dates, through every period, from the early -emperors to the middle of the fourth - -[Illustration: A COLUMBARIUM, - -Or underground sepulchre in which the Romans deposited the urns -containing the ashes of the dead.] - -century (A.D. 350). Another curious and interesting custom furnishes us -with dates on tombs. At the closing of the grave, the relations or -friends, to mark it, would press into its wet plaster, and leave there a -coin, a cameo, or engraved gem, sometimes even a shell or pebble; -probably that they might find the sepulchre again, especially where no -inscription was left. Many of these objects continue to be found, many -have been long collected. But it is not uncommon, where the coin, or, to -speak scientifically, the medal, has fallen from its place, to find a -mould of it left, distinct and clear in the cement, which equally gives -its date. This is sometimes of Domitian, or other early emperors. - -[Illustration: A _loculus_, open.] - -It may be asked, wherefore this anxiety to rediscover with certainty the -tomb? Besides motives of natural piety, there is one constantly recorded -on sepulchral inscriptions. In England, if want of space prevented the -full date of a person’s death being given, we should prefer chronicling -the year, to the day of the month, when it occurred. It is more -historical. No one cares about remembering the day on which a person -died, without the year; but the year without the day, is an important -recollection. Yet while so few ancient Christian inscriptions supply the -year of people’s deaths, thousands give us the very day of it, on which -they died, whether in the hopefulness of believers, or in the assurance -of martyrs. This is easily explained. Of both classes annual -commemoration had to be made, on the very day of their departure; and -accurate knowledge of this was necessary. Therefore it alone was -recorded. - -In a cemetery close to the one in which we have left our three youths, -with Diogenes and his sons,[89] were lately found inscriptions mingled -together, belonging to both orders of the dead. One in Greek, after -mentioning the “Deposition of Augenda on the 13th day before the -Calends, or 1st of June,” adds this simple address: - - ΖΗCΑΙC ENKῶ KAI - EPωTA ΥΠΕΡΗΜωΝ - -“Live in the Lord, and pray for us.” - -Another fragment is as follows: - - .....N. IVN- - ......IVIBAS- - IN PACE ET PETE - PRO NOBIS - - “Nones of June ... Live in peace, and pray for us.” - -This is a third: - - VICTORIA. REFRIGERER [ET] - ISSPIRITVS. TVS IN BONO - - “Victoria, be refreshed, and may thy spirit be in enjoyment” (good). -] - -This last reminds us of a most peculiar inscription found scratched in -the mortar beside a grave in the cemetery of Prætextatus, not many yards -from that of Callistus. It is remarkable, first, for being in Latin -written with Greek letters; then, for containing a testimony of the -Divinity of our Lord; lastly, for expressing a prayer for the -refreshment of the departed. We fill up the portions of words wanting, -from the falling out of part of the plaster. - -[Illustration: “To the well-deserving sister Bon ... The eighth day -before the calends of Nov. Christ God Almighty refresh thy spirit in -Christ.”] - -In spite of this digression on prayers inscribed over tombs, the reader -will not, we trust, have forgotten, that we were establishing the fact, -that the Christian cemeteries of Rome owe their origin to the earliest -ages. We have now to state down to what period they were used. After -peace was restored to the Church, the devotion of Christians prompted -them to desire burial near the martyrs, and holy people of an earlier -age. But, generally speaking, they were satisfied to lie under the -pavement. Hence the sepulchral stones which are often found in the -rubbish of the catacombs, and sometimes in their places, bearing -consular dates of the fourth century, are thicker, larger, better -carved, and in a less simple style, than those of an earlier period, -placed upon the walls. But before the end of that century, these -monuments become rarer; and interment in the catacombs ceased in the -following, at latest. Pope Damasus, who died in 384, reverently shrunk, -as he tells us, in his own epitaph, from intruding into the company of -the saints. - -[Illustration: A Lamb with a Milk Pail, emblematic of the Blessed -Eucharist, found in the Catacombs.] - -Restitutus, therefore, whose sepulchral tablet we gave for a title to -our chapter, may well be considered as speaking in the name of the early -Christians, and claiming as their own exclusive work and property, the -thousand miles of subterranean city, with their six millions of -slumbering inhabitants, who trust in the Lord, and await His -resurrection.[90] - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -WHAT DIOGENES COULD NOT TELL ABOUT THE CATACOMBS. - - -Diogenes lived during the first period in the history of the cemeteries, -though near its close. Could he have looked into their future fate, he -would have seen, near at hand, an epoch that would have gladdened his -heart, to be followed by one that would have deeply afflicted him. -Although, therefore, the matter of this chapter have no direct bearing -upon our narrative, it will serve essentially to connect it with the -present topography of its scene. - -When peace and liberty were restored to the Church, these cemeteries -became places of devotion, and of great resort. Each of them was -associated with the name of one, or the names of several, of the more -eminent martyrs buried in it; and, on their anniversaries, crowds of -citizens and of pilgrims thronged to their tombs, where the Divine -mysteries were offered up, and the homily delivered in their praise. -Hence began to be compiled the first martyrologies, or calendars of -martyrs’ days, which told the faithful whither to go. “At Rome, on the -Salarian, or the Appian, or the Ardeatine way,” such are the indications -almost daily read in the Roman martyrology, now swelled out, by the -additions of later ages.[91] - -An ordinary reader of the book hardly knows the importance of these -indications; for they have served to verify several otherwise dubious -cemeteries. Another class of valuable writers also comes to our aid; but -before mentioning them, we will glance at the changes which this -devotion produced in the cemeteries. First, commodious entrances, with -easy staircases were made; then walls were built to support the -crumbling galleries; and, from time to time, funnel-shaped apertures in -the vaults were opened, to admit light and air. Finally, basilicas or -churches were erected over their entrances, generally leading -immediately to the principal tomb, then called the _confession_ of the -church. The pilgrim, thus, on arriving at the holy city, visited each of -these churches, a custom yet practised; descended below, and without -having to grope his way about, went direct, by well-constructed -passages, to the principal martyr’s shrine, and so on to others, perhaps -equally objects of reverence and devotion. - -During this period, no tomb was allowed to be opened, no body to be -extracted. Through apertures made into the grave, handkerchiefs or -scarfs, called _brandea_, were introduced, to touch the martyr’s relics; -and these were carried to distant countries, to be held in equal -reverence. No wonder that St. Ambrose, St. Gaudentius, and other -bishops, should have found it so difficult to obtain bodies, or large -relics of martyrs for their churches. Another sort of relics consisted -of what was called familiarly the oil of a martyr, that is, the oil, -often mixed with balsam, which burned in a lamp beside his tomb. Often a -round stone pillar, three feet or so in height, and scooped out at the -top, stands beside a monument; probably to hold the lamp, or serve for -the distribution of its contents. St. Gregory the Great wrote to Queen -Theodelinda, that he sent her a collection of the oils of the popes who -were martyrs. The list which accompanied them was copied by Mabillon in -the treasury of Monza, and republished by Ruinart.[92] It exists there -yet, together with the very phials containing them, sealed up in metal -tubes. - -This jealousy of disturbing the saints, is displayed most beautifully in -an incident, related by St. Gregory of Tours. Among the martyrs most -honored in the ancient Roman Church were Sts. Chrysanthus and Daria. -Their tombs became so celebrated for cures, that their fellow-Christians -built (that is excavated) over them a chamber, with a vault of beautiful -workmanship, where crowds of worshippers assembled. This was discovered -by the heathens, and the emperor closed them in, walled up the entrance, -and from above, probably through the _luminare_, or ventilating shaft, -showered down earth and stones, and buried the congregation alive, as -the two holy martyrs had been before them. The place was unknown at the -peace of the Church, till discovered by Divine manifestation. But -instead of being permitted to enter again into this hallowed spot, -pilgrims were merely allowed to look at it, through a window opened in -the wall, so as to see, not only the tombs of the martyrs, but also the -bodies of those who had been buried alive at their shrines. And as the -cruel massacre had taken place while preparations were being made for -oblation of the holy Eucharist, there were still to be seen lying about, -the silver cruets in which the wine was brought for that spotless -sacrifice.[93] - -It is clear that pilgrims resorting to Rome would want a hand-book to -the cemeteries, that they might know what they had to visit. It is -likewise but natural that, on their return home, they may have sought to -edify their less fortunate neighbors, by giving an account of what they -had seen. Accordingly there exists, no less fortunately for us than for -their untravelled neighbors, several records of this character. The -first place, among these, is held by catalogues compiled in the fourth -century; one, of the places of sepulture of Roman pontiffs, the other of -martyrs.[94] After these come three distinct guides to the catacombs; -the more interesting because they take different rounds, yet agree -marvellously in their account. - -To show the value of these documents, and describe the changes which -took place in the catacombs during the second period of their history, -we will give a brief account of one discovery, in the cemetery where we -have left our little party. Among the rubbish near the entrance of a -catacomb, the name of which was yet doubtful, and which had been taken -for that of Prætextatus, was found a fragment of a slab of marble which -had been broken across ‘obliquely, from left to right, with the -following letters: - - -----------------+[95] - \ | - \NELII MARTYRIS | - \ | - --------------+ - -The young Cavalier de Rossi at once declared that this was part of the -sepulchral inscription of the holy Pope Cornelius; that probably his -tomb would be found below, in a distinguished form; and that as all the -itineraries above mentioned concurred in placing it in the cemetery of -Callistus, this, and not the one at St. Sebastian’s, a few hundred yards -off, must claim the honor of that name. He went further, and foretold -that as these works pronounced St. Cyprian to be buried near Cornelius, -there would be found something at the tomb which would account for that -idea, for it was known that his body rested in Africa. It was not long -before every prediction was verified. The great staircase discovered[96] -was found to lead at once to a wider space, carefully secured by -brick-work of the time of peace, and provided with light and air from -above. On the left was a tomb, cut like others in the rock, without any -exterior arch over it. It was, however, large and ample; and except one, -very high above it, there were no other graves below, or over, or at the -sides. The remaining portion of the slab was found within it; the first -piece was brought from the Kircherian Museum, where it had been -deposited, and exactly fitted to it; and both covered the tomb, thus: - - +---------------------+[97] - | / \ | - | /COR\NELII MARTYRIS | - |/ EP\ | - +---------------------+ - -Below, reaching from the lower edge of this stone to the ground was a -marble slab covered with an inscription, of which only the left-hand end -remains, the rest being broken off and lost. Above the tomb was another -slab let into the sand-stone, of which the right-hand end exists, and a -few more fragments have been recovered in the rubbish; not enough to -make out the lines, but sufficient to show it was an inscription in -verse, by Pope Damasus. How is this authorship traceable? Very easily. -Not only do we know that this holy pope, already mentioned, took -pleasure in putting verses, which he loved to write, on the tombs of -martyrs,[98] but the number of inscriptions of his yet extant exhibit a -particular and very elegant form of letters, known among antiquarians by -the name of “Damasian.” The fragments of this marble bear portions of -verses, in this character. - -[Illustration: Saint Cornelius and Saint Cyprian, from De Rossi’s “Roma -Sotteranea.”] - -To proceed: on the wall, right of the tomb, and on the same plane, were -painted two full-length figures in sacerdotal garments, with glories -round their heads, evidently of Byzantine work of the seventh century. -Down the wall, by the left side of each, letter below letter, were their -names; some letters were effaced, which we supply in italics as follow: - - SI✠ COR__{N}_EL_ᴵ_[=PP] SCI✠ PRI_ᴬ_N_ᴵ_¹[99] - -We here see how a foreigner, reading these two inscriptions, with the -portraits, and knowing that the Church commemorates the two martyrs on -the same day, might easily be led to suppose that they were here -deposited together. Finally at the right hand of the tomb stands a -truncated column, about three feet high, concave at the top, as before -described; and as a confirmation of the use to which we said it might be -put, St. Gregory has, in his list of oils sent to the Lombard Queen, -“Oleum S. Cornelii,” the oil of St. Cornelius. - -We see, then, how, during the second period, new ornaments, as well as -greater conveniences, were added to the primitively simple forms of the -cemeteries. But we must not, on that account, imagine that we are in any -danger of mistaking these later embellishments for the productions of -the early ages. The difference is so immense that we might as easily -blunder by taking a Rubens for a Beato Angelico, as by considering a -Byzantine figure to be a production of the two first centuries. - -We come now to the third period of these holy cemeteries, the sad one of -their desolation. When the Lombards, and later the Saracens, began to -devastate the neighborhood of Rome, and the catacombs were exposed to -desecration, the popes extracted the bodies of the most illustrious -martyrs, and placed them in the basilicas of the city. This went on till -the eighth or ninth century; when we still read of repairs made in the -cemeteries by the sovereign pontiffs. The catacombs ceased to be so much -places of devotion; and the churches, which stood over their entrances, -were destroyed, or fell to decay. Only those remained which were -fortified, and could be defended. Such are the extramural basilicas of -St. Paul on the Ostian way, of St. Sebastian on the Appian, St. Laurence -on the Tiburtine, or in the Ager Veranus, St. Agnes on the Nomentan -road, St. Pancratius on the Aurelian, and, greatest of all, St. Peter’s -on the Vatican. The first and last had separate _burghs_ or cities round -them; and the traveller can still trace remains of strong walls round -some of the others. - -Strange it is, however, that the young antiquarian, whom we have -frequently named with honor, should have re-discovered two of the -basilicas over the entrance to the cemetery of Callistus, almost entire; -the one being a stable and bakehouse, the other a wine-store. One is, -most probably, that built by Pope Damasus, so often mentioned. The earth -washed down, through air-holes, the spoliation practised during ages, by -persons entering from vineyards through unguarded entrances, the mere -wasting action of time and weather, have left us but a wreck of the -ancient catacombs. Still there is much to be thankful for. Enough -remains to verify the records left us in better times, and these serve -to guide us to the reconstruction of our ruins. The present Pontiff[100] -has done more in a few years for these sacred places, which he has -appointed have done wonders. With very limited means, they are going -systematically to work, finishing as they advance. Nothing is taken from -the spot where it is found; but every thing is restored, as far as -possible, to its original state. Accurate tracings are made of all the -paintings, and plans of every part explored. To secure these good -results, the Pope has, from his own resources, bought vineyards and -fields, especially at Tor Marancia, where the cemetery of SS. Nereus and -Achilleus is situated; and we believe also over that of Callistus. The -French emperor too has sent to Rome, artists, who have produced a most -magnificent work, perhaps somewhat overdone, upon the catacombs: a truly -imperial undertaking. - -[Illustration: The Tomb of Cornelius.] - -It is time, however, for us to rejoin our party below, and finish our -inspection of these marvellous cities of departed saints, under the -guidance of our friends the excavators. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -WHAT DIOGENES DID TELL ABOUT THE CATACOMBS. - - -All that we have told our readers of the first period of the history of -subterranean Rome, as ecclesiastical antiquarians love to call the -catacombs, has no doubt been better related by Diogenes to his youthful -hearers, as, taper in hand, they have been slowly walking through a long -straight gallery, crossed, indeed, by many others, but adhered to -faithfully; with sundry pauses, and, of course, lectures, embodying what -we have put together in our prosaic second chapter. - -At length Diogenes turned to the right, and Torquatus looked around him -anxiously. - -“I wonder,” he said, “how many turns we have passed by, before leaving -this main gallery?” - -“A great many,” answered Severus, drily. - -“How many do you think, ten or twenty?” - -“Full that, I fancy; for I never have counted them.” - -Torquatus had, however; but wished to make sure. He continued, still -pausing: - -“How do you distinguish the right turn, then? Oh, what is this?” and he -pretended to examine a small niche in the corner. But Severus kept too -sharp a look-out, and saw that he was making a mark in the sand. - -“Come, come along,” he said, “or we shall lose sight of the rest, and -not see which way they turn. That little niche is to hold a lamp; you -will find one at each angle. As to ourselves, we know every alley and -turn here below, as you do those of the city above.” - -[Illustration: A Lamp with a representation of the Good Shepherd, found -at Ostium prior to the third century. From Roller’s “Catacombes.”] - -Torquatus was somewhat reassured by this account of the lamps--those -little earthen ones, evidently made on purpose for the catacombs, of -which so many are there found. But not content, he kept as good count as -he could of the turns, as they went; and now with one excuse, and now -with another, he constantly stopped, and scrutinized particular spots -and corners. But Severus had a lynx’s eye upon him, and allowed nothing -to escape his attention. - -At last they entered a doorway, and found themselves in a square -chamber, richly adorned with paintings. - -“What do you call this?” asked Tiburtius. - -“It is one of the many crypts, or _cubicula_,[101] which abound in our -cemeteries,” answered Diogenes; “sometimes they are merely family -sepultures, but generally they contain the tomb of some martyr, on whose -anniversary we meet here. See that tomb opposite us, which, though flush -with the wall, is arched over. That becomes, on such an occasion, the -altar whereon the Divine mysteries are celebrated. You are of course -aware of the custom of so performing them.” - -[Illustration: Cubiculum or Crypt, as found in the Catacombs.] - -“Perhaps my two friends,” interposed Pancratius, “so recently baptized, -may not have heard it; but I know it well. It is surely one of the -glorious privileges of martyrdom, to have the Lord’s sacred Body and -precious Blood offered upon one’s ashes, and to repose thus under the -very feet of God.[102] But let us see well the paintings all over this -crypt.” - -[Illustration: The Last Supper. From a picture in the Cemetery of St. -Callistus.] - -“It is on account of them that I brought you into this chamber, in -preference to so many others in the cemetery. It is one of the most -ancient, and contains a most complete series of pictures, from the -remotest times down to some of my son’s doing.” - -“Well, then, Diogenes, explain them systematically to my friends,” said -Pancratius. “I think I know most of them, but not all; and I shall be -glad to hear you describe them.” - -“I am no scholar,” replied the old man, modestly, “but when one has -lived sixty years, man and boy, among things, one gets to know them -better than others, because one loves them more. All here have been -fully initiated, I suppose?” he added, with a pause. - -“All,” answered Tiburtius, “though not so fully instructed as converts -ordinarily are. Torquatus and myself have received the sacred gift.” - -[Illustration: A Ceiling in the Catacombs. From De Rossi’s “Roma -Sotteranea.”] - -“Enough,” resumed the excavator. “The ceiling is the oldest part of the -painting, as is natural; for that was done when the crypt was excavated, -whereas the walls were decorated, as tombs were hollowed out. You see -the ceiling has a sort of trellis-work painted over it, with grapes, to -represent perhaps our true Vine, of which we are the branches. There you -see Orpheus sitting down, and playing sweet music, not only to his own -flock, but to the wild beasts of the desert, which stand charmed around -him.” - -“Why, that is a heathen picture altogether,” interrupted Torquatus, -with pettishness, and some sarcasm; “what has it to do with -Christianity?” - -“It is an allegory, Torquatus,” replied Pancratius, gently, “and a -favorite one. The use of Gentile images, when in themselves harmless, -has been permitted. You see masks, for instance, and other pagan -ornaments in this ceiling, and they belong generally to a very ancient -period. And so our Lord was represented under the symbol of Orpheus, to -conceal His sacred representation from Gentile blasphemy and sacrilege. -Look, now, in that arch; you have a more recent representation of the -same subject.” - -[Illustration: Our Lord under the Symbol of Orpheus. From a picture in -the Cemetery of Domitilius.] - -“I see,” said Torquatus, “a shepherd with a sheep over his -shoulders--the Good Shepherd; that I can understand; I remember the -parable.” - -“But why is this subject such a favorite one?” asked Tiburtius; “I have -observed it in other cemeteries.” - -“If you will look over the _arcosolium_,”[103] answered Severus, “you -will see a fuller representation of the scene. But I think we had better -first continue what we have begun, and finish the ceiling. You see that -figure on the right?” - -[Illustration: The Good Shepherd. A woman praying. From the _arcosolium_ -of the Cemetery of Sts. Nereus and Achilleus.] - -“Yes,” replied Tiburtius; “it is that of a man apparently in a chest, -with a dove flying towards him. Is that meant to represent the Deluge?” - -“It is,” said Severus, “as the emblem of regeneration by water and the -Holy Spirit; and of the salvation of the world. Such is our beginning; -and here is our end: Jonas thrown out of the boat, and swallowed by the -whale; and then sitting in enjoyment under his gourd. The resurrection -with our Lord, and eternal rest as its fruit.” - -“How natural is this representation in such a place!” observed -Pancratius, pointing to the other side; “and here we have another type -of the same consoling doctrine.” - -“Where?” asked Torquatus, languidly; “I see nothing but a figure -bandaged all round, and standing up, like a huge infant in a small -temple; and another person opposite to it.” - -“Exactly,” said Severus; “that is the way we always represent the -resurrection of Lazarus. Here look, is a touching expression of the -hopes of our fathers in persecution: The three Babylonian children in -the fiery furnace.” - -[Illustration: A Ceiling in the Catacombs. In the Cemetery of Domitilla, -third century.] - -“Well, now, I think,” said Torquatus, “we may come to the _arcosolium_, -and finish this room. What are these pictures round it?” - -“If you look at the left side, you see the multiplication of the loaves -and fishes. The fish[104] is, you know, the symbol of Christ.” - -“Why so?” asked Torquatus, rather impatiently. Severus turned to -Pancratius, as the better scholar, to answer. - -“There are two opinions about its origin,” said the youth, readily; “one -finds the meaning in the word itself; its letters forming the beginning -of words, so as to mean ‘Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour.’[105] -Another puts it in the symbol itself; that as fish are born and live in -the water, so is the Christian born of water, and buried with Christ in -it, by baptism.[106] Hence, as we came along, we saw the figure of a -fish carved on tombs, or its name engraven on them. Now go on, Severus.” - -[Illustration: The fishes and anchor.] - -[Illustration: The fishes and doves.] - -“Then the union of the bread and the fish in one multiplication shows us -how, in the Eucharist, Christ becomes the food of all.[107] Opposite, is -Moses striking the rock, from which all drank, and which is Christ, our -drink as well as our food.”[108] - -“Now, at last,” said Torquatus, “we are come to the Good Shepherd.” - -“Yes,” continued Severus, “you see Him in the centre of the -_arcosolium_, in His simple tunic and leggings, with a sheep upon His -shoulders, the recovered wanderer from the flock. Two more are standing -at His sides; the truant ram on His right, the gentle ewe upon His left; -the penitent in the post of honor. On each side too, you see a person -evidently sent by Him to preach. Both are leaning forward, and -addressing sheep not of the fold. One on either side is apparently -giving no heed to their words, but browsing quietly on, while one is -turning up its eyes and head, looking and listening with eager -attention. Rain is falling copiously on them; that is the grace of God. -It is not difficult to interpret this picture.” - -“But what makes this emblem such a particular favorite?” again pressed -Tiburtius. - -“We consider this, and similar paintings, to belong chiefly to the time -when the Novatian heresy so much plagued the Church,” answered Severus. - -“And pray what heresy is that?” asked Torquatus, carelessly; for he -thought he was losing time. - -“It was, and indeed is, the heresy,” answered Pancratius, “that teaches, -that there are sins which the Church has not power to forgive; which are -too great for God to pardon.” - -Pancratius was not aware of the effect of his words; but Severus, who -never took off his eye from Torquatus, saw the blood come and go -violently in his countenance. - -“Is that a heresy?” asked the traitor, confused. - -“Surely a dreadful one,” replied Pancratius, “to limit the mercy and -forgiveness of Him, who came to call not the just, but sinners to -repentance. The Catholic Church has always held, that a sinner, however -dark the dye, however huge the mass of his crimes, on truly repenting, -may receive forgiveness, through the penitential remedy left in her -hands. And, therefore, she has always so much loved this type of the -Good Shepherd, ready to run into the wilderness, to bring back a lost -sheep.” - -“But suppose,” said Torquatus, evidently moved, “that one who had become -a Christian, and received the sacred Gift, were to fall away, and plunge -into vice, and--and”--(his voice faltered)--“almost betray his brethren, -would not the Church reject such a one from hope?” - -[Illustration: The Blessed Virgin and the Magi. From a picture in the -Cemetery of Callistus.] - -“No, no,” answered the youth; “these are the very crimes, which the -Novatians insult the Catholics for admitting to pardon. The Church is a -mother, with her arms ever open to re-embrace her erring children.” - -There was a tear trembling in Torquatus’s eye; his lips quivered with -the confession of his guilt, which ascended to them for a moment; but as -if a black poisonous drop rose up his throat with it and choked him, he -changed in a moment to a hard, obstinate look, bit his lip, and said, -with an effort at coolness: “It is certainly a consoling doctrine for -those that need it.” - -Severus alone observed that a moment of grace had been forfeited, and -that some despairing thought had quenched a flash of hope, in that man’s -heart. Diogenes and Majus, who had been absent looking at a new place -for opening a gallery near, now returned. Torquatus addressed the old -master-digger: - -“We have now seen the galleries and the chambers; I am anxious to visit -the church in which we shall have to assemble.” - -The unconscious excavator was going to lead the way, when the inexorable -artist interposed. - -“I think, father, it is too late for to-day; you know we have got our -work to do. These young friends will excuse us, especially as they will -see the church in good time, and in better order also, as the holy -Pontiff intends to officiate in it.” - -They assented; and when they arrived at the point where they had turned -off from the first straight gallery to visit the ornamented chamber, -Diogenes stopped the party, turned a few steps along an opposite -passage, and said: - -“If you pursue this corridor, and turn to the right, you come to the -church. I have merely brought you here to show you an _arcosolium_, with -a beautiful painting. You here see the Virgin Mother holding her Divine -Infant in her arms, while the wise Easterns, here represented as four, -though generally we only reckon three, are adoring Him.”[109] - -All admired the painting; but poor Severus was much chagrined at seeing -how his good father had unwittingly supplied the information desired by -Torquatus, and had furnished him with a sure clue to the desired turn, -by calling his attention to the tomb close round it, distinguishable by -so remarkable a picture. - -When their company was departed, he told all that he had observed to his -brother, remarking, “That man will give us trouble yet: I strongly -suspect him.” - -In a short time they had removed every mark which Torquatus had made at -the turnings. But this was no security against his reckonings; and they -determined to prepare for changing the road, by blocking up the present -one, and turning off at another point. For this purpose they had the -sand of new excavations brought to the ends of a gallery which crossed -the main avenue, where this was low, and left it heaped up there till -the faithful could be instructed of the intended change. - -[Illustration: Moses striking the rock, from the Cemetery of “Inter duos -Lauros.”] - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -ABOVE GROUND. - - -To recover our reader from his long subterranean excursion, we must take -him with us on another visit, to the “happy Campania,” or, “Campany the -blest,” as an old writer might have called it. There we left Fabiola -perplexed by some sentences which she had found. They came to her like a -letter from another world; she hardly knew of what character. She wished -to learn more about them, but she hardly durst inquire. Many visitors -called the next day, and for several days after, and she often thought -of putting before some or other of them the mysterious sentences, but -she could not bring herself to do it. - -A lady, whose life was like her own, philosophically correct, and coldly -virtuous, came; and they talked together over the fashionable opinions -of the day. She took out her vellum page to puzzle her; but she shrank -from submitting it to her: it felt profane to do so. A learned man, well -read in all branches of science and literature, paid her a long visit, -and spoke very charmingly on the sublimer views of the older schools. -She was tempted to consult _him_ about her discovery; but it seemed to -contain something higher than he could comprehend. It was strange that, -after all, when wisdom or consolation was to be sought, the noble and -haughty Roman lady should turn instinctively to her Christian slave. And -so it was now. The first moment they were alone, after several days of -company and visits, Fabiola produced her parchment, and placed it before -Syra. There passed over her countenance an emotion not observable to her -mistress; but she was perfectly calm, as she looked up from reading. - -“That writing,” said her mistress, “I got at Chromatius’s villa, on the -back of a note, probably by mistake. I cannot drive it out of my mind, -which is quite perplexed by it.” - -“Why should it be so, my noble lady? Its sense seems plain enough.” - -“Yes; and that very plainness gives me trouble. My natural feelings -revolt against this sentiment: I fancy I ought to despise a man who does -not resent an injury, and return hatred for hatred. To forgive at most -would be much; but to do good in return for evil, seems to me an -unnatural exaction from human nature. Now, while I feel all this, I am -conscious that I have been brought to esteem you, for conduct exactly -the reverse of what I am naturally impelled to expect.” - -“Oh, do not talk of me, my dear mistress; but look at the simple -principle; you honor it in others, too. Do you despise, or do you -respect, Aristides, for obliging a boorish enemy, by writing, when -asked, his own name on the shell that voted his banishment? Do you, as a -Roman lady, contemn or honor the name of Coriolanus, for his generous -forbearance to your city?” - -“I venerate both, most truly, Syra; but then you know those were heroes, -and not every-day men.” - -“And why should we not all be heroes?” asked Syra, laughing. - -“Bless me, child! what a world we should live in, if we were. It is very -pleasant reading about the feats of such wonderful people; but one would -be very sorry to see them performed by common men, every day.” - -“Why so?” pressed the servant. - -“Why so? who would like to find a baby she was nursing, playing with, or -strangling, serpents in the cradle? I should be very sorry to have a -gentleman, whom I invited to dinner, telling me coolly he had that -morning killed a minotaur, or strangled a hydra; or to have a friend -offering to send the Tiber through my stables, to cleanse them. Preserve -us from a generation of heroes, say I.” And Fabiola laughed heartily at -the conceit. In the same good humor Syra continued: - -“But suppose we had the misfortune to live in a country where such -monsters existed, centaurs and minotaurs, hydras and dragons. Would it -not be better that common men should be heroes enough to conquer them, -than that we should have to send off to the other side of the world for -a Theseus, or a Hercules, to destroy them? In fact, in that case, a man -would be no more a hero if he fought them, than a lion-slayer is in my -country.” - -“Quite true, Syra; but I do not see the application of your idea.” - -“It is this: anger, hatred, revenge, ambition, avarice, are to my mind -as complete monsters as serpents or dragons; and they attack common men -as much as great ones. Why should not I try to be as able to conquer -them as Aristides, or Coriolanus, or Cincinnatus? Why leave it to heroes -only, to do what we can do as well?” - -“And do you really hold this as a common moral principle? If so, I fear -you will soar too high.” - -“No, dear lady. You were startled when I ventured to maintain that -inward and unseen virtue was as necessary as the outward and visible: I -fear I must surprise you still more.” - -“Go on, and do not fear to tell me all.” - -“Well, then, the principle of that system which I profess is this: that -we must treat and practise, as every-day and common virtue, nay, as -simple duty, whatever any other code, the purest and sublimest that may -be, considers heroic, and proof of transcendent virtue.” - -“That is indeed a sublime standard to form, of moral elevation; but mark -the difference between the two cases. The hero is supported by the -praises of the world: his act is recorded and transmitted to posterity, -when he checks his passions, and performs a sublime action. But who -sees, cares for, or shall requite, the poor obscure wretch, who in -humble secrecy imitates his conduct?” - -Syra, with solemn, reverential look and gesture, raised her eyes and her -right hand to heaven, and slowly said: “His Father, who is in heaven, -who maketh His sun to rise on the good and the bad, and raineth on the -just and the unjust.” - -Fabiola paused for a time, overawed: then said affectionately and -respectfully: “Again, Syra, you have conquered my philosophy. Your -wisdom is consistent as it is sublime. A virtue heroic, even when -unseen, you propose as the ordinary daily virtue of every one. Men must -indeed become more than what gods have been thought to be, to attempt -it; but the very idea is worth a whole philosophy. Can you lead me -higher than this?” - -“Oh, far!--far higher still.” - -“And where at length would you leave me?” - -[Illustration: Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - -“Where your heart should tell you that it had found peace.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -DELIBERATIONS. - - -The persecution had now been some time raging in the East under -Dioclesian and Galerius; and the decree for enkindling it throughout the -West, had reached Maximian. But it had been resolved to make this a -work, not of repression, but of extermination, of the Christian name. It -had been determined to spare no one; but cutting off the chiefs of the -religion first, to descend down to the wholesale butchery of the poorest -classes. It was necessary for this purpose to concert measures, that the -various engines of destruction might work in cruel harmony: that every -possible instrument should be employed to secure completeness to the -effort; and also that the majesty of imperial command should add its -grandeur and its terror to the crushing blow. - -For this purpose the emperor, though impatient to begin his work of -blood, had yielded to the opinion of his counsellors, that the edict -should be kept concealed till it could be published simultaneously in -every province, and government, of the West. The thundercloud, fraught -with vengeance, would thus hang for a time, in painful mystery, over its -intended victims, and then burst suddenly upon them, discharging upon -their heads its mingled elements, and its “fire, hail, snow, ice, and -boisterous blast.” - -It was in the month of November, that Maximian Herculeus convoked the -meeting in which his plans had finally to be adjusted. To it were -summoned the leading officers of his court, and of the state. The -principal one, the prefect of the city, had brought with him his son, -Corvinus, whom he had proposed to be captain of a body of armed -pursuivants, picked out for their savageness and hatred of Christians; -who should hunt them out, or down, with unrelenting assiduity. The chief -prefects or governors of Sicily, Italy, Spain, and Gaul, were present, -to receive their orders. In addition to these, several learned men, -philosophers, and orators, among whom was our old acquaintance -Calpurnius, had been invited; and many priests, who had come from -different parts, to petition for heavier persecution, were commanded to -attend. - -[Illustration: Maximian Herculeus holding his horse by the bridle and -protected by a shield bearing a she-wolf. From a bronze medal in the -collection of France.] - -The usual residence of the emperors, as we have seen, was the Palatine. -There was, however, another much esteemed by them, which Maximian -Herculeus in particular preferred. During the reign of Nero, the wealthy -senator, Plautius Lateranus, was charged with conspiracy, and of course -punished with death. His immense property was seized by the emperor, and -part of this was his house, described by Juvenal, and other writers, as -of unusual size and magnificence. It was beautifully situated on the -Cœlian hill, and on the southern verge of the city; so that from it was -a view unequalled even in the vicinity of Rome. Stretching across the -wavy campagna, here bestrided by colossal aqueducts, crossed by lines of -roads, with their fringes of marble tombs, and bespangled all over with -glittering villas, set like gems in the dark green enamel of laurel and -cypress, the eye reached, at evening, the purple slope of hills on -which, as on a couch, lay stretched luxuriously Alba and Tusculum, with -“their daughters,” according to oriental phrase, - -[Illustration: The Claudian Aqueduct.] - -basking brightly in the setting sun. The craggy range of Sabine -mountains on the left, and the golden expanse of the sea on the right of -the beholder, closed in this perfect landscape. - -It would be attributing to Maximian a quality which he did not possess, -were we to give him credit for loving a residence so admirably situated, -through any taste for the beautiful. The splendor of the buildings, -which he had still further adorned, or possibly the facility of running -out of the city for the chase of boar and wolf, was the motive of this -preference. A native of Sirmium, in Sclavonia, a reputed barbarian -therefore of the lowest extraction, a mere soldier of fortune, without -any education, endowed with little more than a brute strength, which -made his surname of Herculeus most appropriate, he had been raised to -the purple by his brother-barbarian Diocles, known as the emperor -Dioclesian. Like him, covetous to meanness, and spendthrift to -recklessness, addicted to the same coarse vices and foul crimes, which a -Christian pen refuses to record, without restraint of any passion, -without sense of justice, or feeling of humanity, this monster had never -ceased to oppress, persecute, and slay whoever stood in his way. To him -the coming persecution looked like an approaching feast does to a -glutton, who requires the excitement of a surfeit to relieve the -monotony of daily excess. Gigantic in frame, with the well-known -features of his race, with the hair on his head and face more yellow -than red, shaggy and wild, like tufts of straw, with eyes restlessly -rolling in a compound expression of suspicion, profligacy, and ferocity, -this almost last of Rome’s tyrants struck terror into the heart of any -beholder, except a Christian. Is it wonderful that he hated the race and -its name? - -In the large basilica, or hall, then, of the Ædes Lateranæ,[110] -Maximian met his motley council, in which secrecy was ensured by -penalty of death. In the semicircular apse at the upper end of the hall, -sat the emperor, on an ivory throne richly adorned, and before him were -arranged his obsequious and almost trembling advisers. A chosen body of -guards kept the entrance; and the officer in command, Sebastian, was -leaning negligently against it on the inside, but carefully noted every -word that was spoken. - -Little did the emperor think, that the hall in which he sat, and which -he afterwards gave, with the contiguous palace, to Constantine, as part -of the dowry of his daughter, Fausta, would be transferred by him to the -head of the religion he was planning to extirpate, and become, retaining -its name of the Lateran Basilica, the cathedral of Rome, “of all the -churches of the city and of the world the mother and chief.”[111] Little -did he imagine, that on the spot whereon rested his throne, would be -raised a Chair, whence commands should issue, to reach worlds unknown to -Roman sway, from an immortal race of sovereigns, spiritual and temporal. - -Precedence was granted, by religious courtesy, to the priests; each of -whom had his tale to tell. Here a river had overflowed its banks, and -done much mischief to the neighboring plains; there an earthquake had -thrown down part of a town; on the northern frontiers the barbarians -threatened invasion; at the south, the plague was ravaging the pious -population. In every instance, the oracles had declared, that it was all -owing to the Christians, whose toleration irritated the gods, and whose -evil charms brought calamity on the empire. Nay, some had afflicted -their votaries by openly proclaiming, that they would utter no more, -till the odious Nazarenes had been exterminated; and the great Delphic -oracle had not hesitated to declare, “that _the Just_ did not allow the -gods to speak.” - -Next came the philosophers and orators, each of whom made his own -long-winded oration; during which Maximian gave unequivocal signs of -weariness. But as the Emperors in the East had held a similar meeting, -he considered it his duty to sit out the annoyance. The usual calumnies -were repeated, for the ten-thousandth time, to an applauding assembly; -the stories of murdering and eating infants, of committing foul crimes, -of worshipping martyrs’ bodies, of adoring an ass’s head, and -inconsistently enough of being unbelievers, and serving no God. These -tales were all most firmly believed: though probably their reciters knew -perfectly well, they were but good sound heathen lies, very useful in -keeping up a horror of Christianity. - -But, at length, up rose the man, who was considered to have most deeply -studied the doctrines of the enemy, and best to know their dangerous -tactics. He was supposed to have read their own books, and to be drawing -up a confutation of their errors, which would fairly crush them. Indeed, -so great was his weight with his own side, that when he asserted that -Christians held any monstrous principle, had their supreme pontiff in -person contradicted it, every one would have laughed at the very idea of -taking his word for his own belief, against the assertion of Calpurnius. - -He struck up a different strain, and his learning quite astonished his -fellow-sophists. He had read the original books, he said, not only of -the Christians themselves, but of their forefathers, the Jews; who, -having come into Egypt in the reign of Ptolemy Philadelphus, to escape -from a famine in their own country, through the arts of their leader, -Josephus, bought up all the corn there, and sent it home. Upon which -Ptolemy imprisoned them, telling them, that as they had eaten up all the -corn, they should live on the straw, by making bricks with it for -building a great city. Then Demetrius Phalerius, hearing from them of a -great many curious histories of their ancestors, shut up Moses and -Aaron, their most learned men, in a tower, having shaved half their -beards, till they should write in Greek all their records. These rare -books Calpurnius had seen, and he would build his argument entirely on -them. This race made war upon every king and people, that came in their -way; and destroyed them all. It was their principle, if they took a -city, to put every one to the sword; and this was all because they were -under the government of their ambitious priests; so that when a certain -king, Saul, called also Paul, spared a poor captive monarch whose name -was Agag, the priests ordered him to be brought out and hewed in pieces. - -“Now,” continued he, “these Christians are still under the domination of -the same priesthood, and are quite as ready to-day, under their -direction, to overthrow the great Roman empire, burn us all in the -Forum, and even sacrilegiously assail the sacred and venerable heads of -our divine emperors.” - -A thrill of horror ran through the assembly, at this recital. It was -soon hushed, as the emperor opened his mouth to speak. - -“For my part,” he said, “I have another and a stronger reason for my -abhorrence of these Christians. They have dared to establish in the -heart of the empire, and in this very city, a supreme religious -authority, unknown here before, independent of the government of the -State, and equally powerful over their minds as this. Formerly, all -acknowledged the emperor as supreme in religious, as in civil, rule. -Hence he bears still the title of Pontifex Maximus. But these men have -raised up a divided power, and consequently bear but a divided loyalty. -I hate, therefore, as a usurpation in my dominions, this sacerdotal sway -over my subjects. For I declare, that I would rather hear of a new rival -starting up to my throne, than of the election of one of these priests -in Rome.”[112] - -This speech, delivered in a harsh grating voice, and with a vulgar -foreign accent, was received with immense applause; and plans were -formed for the simultaneous publication of the Edict through the West, -and for its complete and exterminating execution. - -Then turning sharp upon Tertullus, the emperor said: “Prefect, you said -you had some one to propose, for superintending these arrangements, and -for merciless dealings with these traitors.” - -“He is here, sire, my son Corvinus.” And Tertullus handed the youthful -candidate to the grim tyrant’s footstool, where he knelt. Maximian eyed -him keenly, burst into a hideous laugh, and said: “Upon my word, I think -he’ll do. Why, prefect, I had no idea you had such an ugly son. I should -think he is just the thing; every quality of a thoroughpaced, -unconscientious scape-grace is stamped upon his features.” - -Then turning to Corvinus, who was scarlet with rage, terror, and shame, -he said to him: “Mind you, sirrah, I must have clean work of it; no -hacking and hewing, no blundering. I pay up well if I am well served; -but I pay off well, too, if badly served. So now go; and remember, that -if your back can answer for a small fault, your head will for a greater. -The lictors’ _fasces_ contain an axe as well as rods.” - -The emperor rose to depart, when his eye caught Fulvius, who had been -summoned as a paid court-spy, but who kept as much in the back-ground as -possible. “Ho, there, my eastern worthy,” he called out to him; “draw -nearer.” - -Fulvius obeyed with apparent cheerfulness, but with real reluctance; -much the same as if he had been invited to go very near a tiger, the -strength of whose chain he was not quite sure about. He had seen, from -the beginning, that his coming to Rome had not been acceptable to -Maximian, though he knew not fully the cause. It was not merely that the -tyrant had plenty of favorites of his own to enrich, and spies to pay, -without Dioclesian’s sending him more from Asia, though this had its -weight; but it was more. He believed in his heart that Fulvius had been -sent principally to act the spy upon himself, and to report to Nicomedia -the sayings and doings of his court. While, therefore, he was obliged to -tolerate him, and employ him, he mistrusted and disliked him, which in -him was equivalent to hating him. It was some compensation, therefore, -to Corvinus, when he heard his more polished confederate publicly -addressed, as rudely as himself, in the following terms: - -“None of your smooth, put-on looks for me, fellow. I want deeds, not -smirks. You came here as a famous plothunter, a sort of stoat, to pull -conspirators out of their nests, or suck their eggs for me. I have seen -nothing of this so far; and yet you have had plenty of money to set you -up in business. These Christians will afford you plenty of game; so make -yourself ready, and let us see what you can do. You know my ways; you -had better look sharp about you, therefore, or you may have to look at -something very sharp before you. The property of the convicted will be -divided between the accusers and the treasury; unless I see particular -reasons for taking the whole to myself. Now you may go.” - -[Illustration: Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - -Most thought that these particular reasons would turn out to be very -general. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -DARK DEATH. - - -A few days after Fabiola’s return from the country, Sebastian considered -it his duty to wait upon her, to communicate so much of the dialogue -between Corvinus and her black slave, as he could without causing -unnecessary suffering. We have already observed, that of the many noble -youths whom Fabiola had met in her father’s house, none had excited her -admiration and respect except Sebastian. So frank, so generous, so -brave, yet so unboasting; so mild, so kind in act and speech, so -unselfish and so careful of others, blending so completely in one -character nobleness and simplicity, high wisdom and practical sense, he -seemed to her the most finished type of manly virtue, one which would -not easily suffer by time, nor weary by familiarity. - -When, therefore, it was announced to her that the officer Sebastian -wished to speak to her alone, in one of the halls below, her heart beat -at the unusual tidings, and conjured up a thousand strange fancies, -about the possible topics of his interview. This agitation was not -diminished, when, after apologizing for his seeming intrusion, he -remarked with a smile, that, well knowing how sufficiently she was -already annoyed by the many candidates for her hand, he felt regret at -the idea that he was going to add another, yet undeclared, to her list. -If this ambiguous preface surprised, and perhaps elated her, she was -soon depressed again, upon being told it was the vulgar and stupid -Corvinus. For her father, even, little as he knew how to discriminate -characters out of business, had seen enough of him at his late banquet -to characterize him to his daughter by those epithets. - -Sebastian, fearing rather the physical, than the moral activity of -Afra’s drugs, thought it right to inform her of the compact between the -two dabblers in the black art, the principal efficacy of which, however, -seemed to consist in drawing money from the purse of a reluctant dupe. -He of course said nothing of what related to the Christians in that -dialogue. He put her on her guard, and she promised to prevent the -nightly excursions of her necromancer slave. What Afra had engaged to -do, she did not for a moment believe it was ever her intention to -attempt; neither did she fear arts which she utterly despised. Indeed -Afra’s last soliloquy seemed satisfactorily to prove that she was only -deceiving her victim. But she certainly felt indignant at having been -bargained about by two such vile characters, and having been represented -as a grasping avaricious woman, whose price was gold. - -“I feel,” she said at last to Sebastian, “how very kind it is of you, to -come thus to put me on my guard; and I admire the delicacy with which -you have unfolded so disagreeable a matter, and the tenderness with -which you have treated every one concerned.” - -“I have only done in this instance,” replied the soldier, “what I should -have done for any human being,--save him, if possible, from pain or -danger.” - -“Your friends, I hope you mean,” said Fabiola, smiling; “otherwise I -fear your whole life would go, in works of unrequited benevolence.” - -“And so let it go; it could not be better spent.” - -“Surely, you are not in earnest, Sebastian. If you saw one who had ever -hated you, and sought your destruction, threatened with a calamity, -which would make him harmless, would you stretch out your hand to save, -or succor, him?” - -“Certainly I would. While God sends His sunshine and His rain equally -upon His enemies, as upon His friends, shall weak man frame another rule -of justice?” - -At these words Fabiola wondered; they were so like those of her -mysterious parchment, identical with the moral theories of her slave. - -“You have been in the East, I believe, Sebastian,” she asked him, rather -abruptly; “was it there that you learnt these principles? For I have one -near me, who is yet, by her own choice, a servant, a woman of rare moral -perceptions, who has propounded to me the same ideas; and she is an -Asiatic.” - -“It is not in any distant country that I learnt them; for here I sucked -them in with my mother’s milk; though, originally, they doubtless came -from the East.” - -“They are certainly beautiful in the abstract,” remarked Fabiola; “but -death would overtake us before we could half carry them out, were we to -make them our principles of conduct.” - -“And how better could death find us, though not surprise us, than in -thus doing our duty, even if not to its completion?” - -“For my part,” resumed the lady, “I am of the old Epicurean poet’s mind. -This world is a banquet, from which I shall be ready to depart when I -have had my fill--_ut conviva satur_[113]--and not till then. I wish to -read life’s book through, and close it calmly, only when I have finished -its last page.” - -Sebastian shook his head, smiling, and said, “The last page of this -world’s book comes but in the middle of the volume, wherever ‘death’ -may happen to be written. But on the next page begins the illuminated -book of a new life--without a last page.” - -“I understand you,” replied Fabiola, good-humoredly; “you are a brave -soldier, and you speak as such. _You_ must be always prepared for death -from a thousand casualties; _we_ seldom see it approach suddenly; it -comes more mercifully, and stealthily, upon the weak. You no doubt are -musing on a more glorious fate, on receiving in front full sheaves of -arrows from the enemy, and falling covered with honor. You look to the -soldier’s funeral pile, with trophies erected over it. To you, after -death, opens its bright page the book of glory.” - -“No, no, gentle lady,” exclaimed Sebastian, emphatically. “I mean not -so. I care not for glory, which can only be enjoyed by an anticipating -fancy. I speak of vulgar death, as it may come to me in common with the -poorest slave; consuming me by slow burning fever, wasting me by long -lingering consumption, racking me by slowly eating ulcers; nay, if you -please, by the still crueller inflictions of men’s wrath. In any form -let it come; it comes from a hand that I love.” - -“And do you really mean that death, so contemplated, would be welcomed -by you?” - -“As joyful as is the epicure, when the doors of the banqueting-hall are -thrown wide open, and he sees beyond them the brilliant lamps, the -glittering table, and its delicious viands, with its attendant ministers -well girt, and crowned with roses; as blithe as is the bride when the -bridegroom is announced, coming with rich gifts, to conduct her to her -new home, will my exulting heart be, when death, under whatever form, -throws back the gates, iron on this side, but golden on the other, which -lead to a new and perennial life. And I care not how grim the messenger -may be, that proclaims the approach of Him who is celestially -beautiful.” - -“And who is He?” asked Fabiola, eagerly. “Can He not be seen, save -through the fleshless ribs of death?” - -“No,” replied Sebastian; “for it is He who must reward us, not only for -our lives, but for our deaths also. Happy they whose inmost hearts, -which He has ever read, have been kept pure and innocent, as well as -their deeds have been virtuous! For them is this bright vision of Him, -whose true rewards only then begin.” - -How very like Syra’s doctrines! she thought. But before she could speak -again, to ask whence they came, a slave entered, stood on the threshold, -and respectfully said: - -“A courier, madam, is just arrived from Baiæ.”[114] - -“Pardon me, Sebastian!” she exclaimed. “Let him enter immediately.” - -The messenger came in, covered with dust and jaded, having left his -tired horse at the gate; and offered her a sealed packet. - -Her hand trembled as she took it; and while she was unloosening its -bands, she hesitatingly asked: - -“From my father?” - -“About him, at least,” was the ominous reply. - -She opened the sheet, glanced over it, shrieked, and fell. Sebastian -caught her before she reached the ground, laid her on a couch, and -delicately left her in the hands of her handmaids, who had rushed in at -the cry. - -[Illustration: Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - -One glance had told her all. Her father was dead. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -DARKER STILL. - - -When Sebastian came into the court, he found a little crowd of domestics -gathered round the courier, listening to the details of their master’s -death. - -The letter of which Torquatus was the bearer to him, had produced its -desired effect. He called at his villa, and spent a few days with his -daughter, on his way to Asia. He was more than usually affectionate; and -when they parted, both father and daughter seemed to have a melancholy -foreboding that they would meet no more. He soon, however, recovered his -spirits at Baiæ, where a party of good livers anxiously awaited him; and -where he considered himself obliged to stay, while his galley was being -fitted up and stored with the best wines and provisions which Campania -afforded, for his voyage. He indulged, however, his luxurious tastes to -excess; and on coming out of a bath, after a hearty supper, he was -seized with a chill, and in four-and-twenty hours was a corpse. He had -left his undivided wealth to his only child. In fine, the body was being -embalmed when the courier started, and was to be brought by his galley -to Ostia. - -On hearing this sad tale, Sebastian was almost sorry that he had spoken -as he had done of death, and left the house with mournful thoughts. - -Fabiola’s first plunge into the dark abyss of grief was deep and dismal, -down into unconsciousness. Then the buoyancy of youth and mind bore her -up again to the surface; and her view of life, to the horizon, was as of -a boundless ocean of black seething waves, on which floated no living -thing save herself. Her woe seemed utter and unmeasured; and she closed -her eyes with a shudder, and suffered herself to sink again into -obliviousness, till once more roused to wakefulness of mind. Again and -again she was thus tossed up and down, between transient death and life, -while her attendants applied remedies to what they deemed a succession -of alarming fits and convulsions. At length she sat up, pale, staring, -and tearless, gently pushing aside the hand that tried to administer -restoratives to her. In this state she remained long; a stupor, fixed -and deadly, seemed to have entranced her; the pupils were almost -insensible to the light, and fears were whispered of her brain becoming -oppressed. The physician, who had been called, uttered distinctly and -forcibly into her ears the question: “Fabiola, do you know that your -father is dead?” She started, fell back, and a bursting flood of tears -relieved her heart and head. She spoke of her father, and called for him -amidst her sobs, and said wild and incoherent, but affectionate things -about, and to, him. Sometimes she seemed to think him still alive, then -she remembered he was dead; and so she wept and moaned, till sleep took -the turn of tears, in nursing her shattered mind and frame. - -Euphrosyne and Syra alone watched by her. The former had, from time to -time, put in the commonplaces of heathen consolation, had reminded her -too, how kind a master, how honest a man, how loving a father he had -been. But the Christian sat in silence, except to speak gentle and -soothing words to her mistress, and served her with an active delicacy, -which even then was not unnoticed. What could she do more, unless it was -to pray? What hope for else, than that a new grace was folded up, like -a flower, in this tribulation; that a bright angel was riding in the -dark cloud that overshadowed her humbled lady? - -As grief receded it left some room for thought. This came to Fabiola in -a gloomy and searching form. “What was become of her father? Whither was -he gone? Had he melted into unexistence, or had he been crushed into -annihilation? Had _his_ life been searched through by that unseen eye -which sees the invisible? Had he stood the proof of that scrutiny which -Sebastian and Syra had described? Impossible! Then what had become of -him?” She shuddered as she thought, and put away the reflection from her -mind. - -Oh, for a ray from some unknown light, that would dart into the grave, -and show her what it was! Poetry had pretended to enlighten it, and even -glorify it; but had only, in truth, remained at the door, as a genius -with drooping head, and torch reversed. Science had stepped in, and come -out scared, with tarnished wings and lamp extinguished in the fetid air; -for it had only discovered a charnel-house. And philosophy had barely -ventured to wander round and round, and peep in with dread, and recoil, -and then prate or babble; and, shrugging its shoulders, own that the -problem was yet unsolved, the mystery still veiled. Oh, for something, -or some one, better than all these, to remove the dismal perplexity! - -While these thoughts dwell like gloomy night on the heart of Fabiola, -her slave is enjoying the vision of light, clothed in mortal form, -translucid and radiant, rising from the grave as from an alembic, in -which have remained the grosser qualities of matter, without impairing -the essence of its nature. Spiritualized and free, lovely and glorious, -it springs from the very hot-bed of corruption. And another and another, -from land and sea; from reeking cemetery, and from beneath consecrated -altar; from the tangled thicket where solitary murder has been -committed on the just, and from fields of ancient battle done by Israel -for God; like crystal fountains springing into the air, like brilliant -signal-lights, darted from earth to heaven, till a host of millions, -side by side, repeoples creation with joyous and undying life. And how -knows she this? Because One, greater and better than poet, sage, or -sophist, had made the trial; had descended first into the dark couch of -death, had blessed it, as He had done the cradle, and made infancy -sacred; rendering also death a holy thing, and its place a sanctuary. He -went into it in the darkest of evening, and He came forth from it in the -brightest of morning; He was laid there wrapped in spices, and he rose -again robed in His own fragrant incorruption. And from that day the -grave had ceased to be an object of dread to the Christian soul, for it -continued what he had made it,--the furrow into which the seed of -immortality must needs be cast. - -The time was not come for speaking of these things to Fabiola. She -mourned still, as they must mourn who have no hope. Day succeeded day in -gloomy meditation on the mystery of death, till other cares mercifully -roused her. The corpse arrived, and such a funeral followed as Rome then -seldom witnessed. Processions by torch-light, in which the waxen -effigies of ancestors were borne, and a huge funeral pile, built up of -aromatic wood, and scented by the richest spices of Arabia, ended in her -gathering up a few handfuls of charred bones, which were deposited in an -alabaster urn, and placed in a niche of the family sepulchre, with the -name inscribed of their former owner. - -Calpurnius spoke the funeral oration; in which, according to the -fashionable ideas of the day, he contrasted the virtues of the -hospitable and industrious citizen with the false morality of those men -called Christians, who fasted and prayed all day, and were stealthily -insinuating their dangerous principles into every noble family, and -spreading disloyalty and immorality in every class. Fabius, he could -have no doubt, if there was any future existence, whereon philosophers -differed, was now basking on a green bank in Elysium, and quaffing -nectar. “And oh!” concluded the old whining hypocrite, who would have -been sorry to exchange one goblet of Falernian for an amphora[115] of -that beverage, “oh! that the gods would hasten the day when I, his -humble client, may join him in his shady repose and sober banquets!” -This noble sentiment gained immense applause. - -To this care succeeded another. Fabiola had to apply her vigorous mind -to examine, and close her father’s complicated affairs. How often was -she pained at the discovery of what to her seemed injustice, fraud, -over-reaching and oppression, in the transactions of one whom the world -had applauded as the most honest and liberal of public contractors! - -[Illustration: The Peacock, as an Emblem of the Resurrection, found in -the Catacombs.] - -In a few weeks more, in the dark attire of a mourner, Fabiola went forth -to visit her friends. The first of these was her cousin Agnes. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -THE FALSE BROTHER. - - -We must take our reader back a few steps in the history of Torquatus. On -the morning after his fall, he found, on awaking, Fulvius at his -bed-side. It was the falconer, who, having got hold of a good hawk, was -come to tame him, and train him to strike down the dove for him, in -return for a well-fed slavery. With all the coolness of a practised -hand, he brought back to his memory every circumstance of the preceding -night’s debauch, his utter ruin, and only means of escape. With -unfeeling precision he strengthened every thread of the last evening’s -web, and added many more meshes to it. - -The position of Torquatus was this: if he made one step towards -Christianity, which Fulvius assured him would be fruitless, he would be -at once delivered to the judge, and cruelly punished with death. If he -remained faithful to his compact of treason, he should want for nothing. - -“You are hot and feverish,” at last concluded Fulvius; “an early walk, -and fresh air, will do you good.” - -The poor wretch consented; and they had hardly reached the Forum, when -Corvinus, as if by accident, met them. After mutual salutations, he -said: “I am glad to have fallen in with you; I should like to take you, -and show you my father’s workshop.” - -“Workshop?” asked Torquatus with surprise. - -“Yes, where he keeps his tools; it has just been beautifully fitted up. -Here it is, and that grim old foreman, Catulus, is opening the doors.” - -They entered into a spacious court with a shed round it, filled with -engines of torture of every form. Torquatus shrunk back. - -“Come in, masters, don’t be afraid,” said the old executioner. “There is -no fire put on yet, and nobody will hurt you, unless you happen to be a -wicked Christian. It’s for them we have been polishing up of late.” - -“Now, Catulus,” said Corvinus, “tell this gentleman, who is a stranger, -the use of these pretty toys you have here.” - -Catulus, with good heart, showed them round his museum of horrors, -explaining every thing with such hearty good-will, and no end of jokes -not quite fit for record, that in his enthusiasm he nearly gave -Torquatus practical illustrations of what he described, having once -almost caught his ear in a pair of sharp pincers, and another time -brought down a mallet within an inch of his teeth. - -The rack, a large gridiron, an iron chair with a furnace in it for -heating it, large boilers for hot oil or scalding-water baths; ladles -for melting lead, and pouring it neatly into the mouth; pincers, hooks -and iron combs of varied shapes, for laying bare the ribs; scorpions, or -scourges armed with iron or leaden knobs; iron collars, manacles and -fetters of the most tormenting make; in fine, swords, knives, and axes -in tasteful varieties,[116] were all commented upon with true relish, -and an anticipation of much enjoyment, - -[Illustration: _Plumbatæ._ Whips made of brass chains to which are -attached leaden balls.] - -[Illustration: _Volsellæ_, Tweezers or Tongs.] - -[Illustration: _Uncus_, or hook.] - -[Illustration: _Pectines ferrei._ Iron Comb.] - -[Illustration: _Uncus_, or hook.] - -[Illustration: Instruments of Torture used against the Christians. From -Roller’s “Catacombes de Rome.”] - -in seeing them used on those hard-headed and thick-skinned Christians. - -Torquatus was thoroughly broken down. He was taken to the baths of -Antoninus, where he caught the attention of old Cucumio, the head of the -wardrobe department, or capsarius, and his wife Victoria, who had seen -him at church. After a good refection, he was led to a gambling-hall in -the Thermæ, and lost, of course. Fulvius lent him money, but for every -farthing, exacted a bond. By these means, he was, in a few days, -completely subdued. - -Their meetings were early and late; during the day he was left free, -lest he should lose his value, through being suspected by Christians. -Corvinus had determined to make a tremendous dash at them, so soon as -the Edict should have come out. He therefore exacted from Torquatus, as -his share of the compact, that the spy should study the principal -cemetery where the pontiff intended to officiate. This Torquatus soon -ascertained; and his visit to the cemetery of Callistus was in -fulfilment of his engagement. When that struggle between grace and sin -took place in his soul, which Severus noticed, it was the image of -Catulus and his hundred plagues, with that of Fulvius and his hundred -bonds, that turned the scale in favor of perdition. Corvinus, after -receiving his report, and making from it a rough chart of the cemetery, -determined to assail it, early, the very day after the publication of -the Decree. - -Fulvius took another course. He determined to become acquainted, by -sight, with the principal clergy, and leading Christians, of Rome. Once -possessed of this knowledge, he was sure no disguise would conceal them -from his piercing eyes; and he would easily pick them up, one by one. He -therefore insisted upon Torquatus’s taking him as his companion, to the -first great function that should collect many priests and deacons round -the Pope. He overruled - -[Illustration: Christ and His Apostles, from a picture in the -Catacombs.] - -every remonstrance, dispelled every fear; and assured Torquatus, that -once in, by his password, he should behave perfectly like any Christian. -Torquatus soon informed him, that there would be an excellent -opportunity at the coming ordination, in that very month of December. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE ORDINATION IN DECEMBER. - - -Whoever has read the history of the early Popes, will have become -familiar with the fact, recorded almost invariably of each, that he held -certain ordinations in the month of December, wherein he created so many -priests, and deacons, and so many bishops for different places. The -first two orders were conferred to supply clergy for the city; the third -was evidently to furnish pastors for other dioceses. In later times, the -ember-days in December, regulated by the festival of St. Lucy, were -those on which the Supreme Pontiff held his consistories, in which he -named his cardinal priests and deacons, and preconized, as it is called, -the bishops of all parts of the world. And, though this function is not -now coincident with the periods of ordination, still it is continued -essentially for the same purpose. - -Marcellinus, under whose pontificate our narrative is placed, is stated -to have held two ordinations in this month, that is, of course, in -different years. It was to one of these that we have alluded, as about -to take place. - -Where was this solemn function to be performed was Fulvius’s first -inquiry. And we cannot but think that the answer will be interesting to -the Christian antiquary. Nor can our acquaintance with the ancient Roman -Church be complete, without our knowing the favored spot where Pontiff -after Pontiff preached, and celebrated the divine mysteries, and held -his councils, or those glorious ordinations, which sent forth not only -bishops but martyrs to govern other churches, and gave to a St. Laurence -his diaconate, or to St. Novatus or St. Timotheus his priesthood. There, -too, a Polycarp or Irenæus visited the successor of St. Peter; and -thence received their commission the apostles who converted our King -Lucius to the faith. - -The house which the Roman Pontiffs inhabited, and the church in which -they officiated till Constantine installed them in the Lateran palace -and basilica, the residence and cathedral of the illustrious line of -martyr-popes for 300 years, can be no ignoble spot. And that, in tracing -it out, we may not be misguided by national or personal prepossession, -we will follow a learned living antiquarian, who, intent upon another -research, accidentally has put together all the data requisite for our -purpose.[117] - -We have described the house of Agnes’s parents as situated in the _Vicus -Patricius_, or the Patrician-street. This had another name, for it was -also called the street of the Cornelii, _Vicus Corneliorum_, because in -it lived the illustrious family of that name. The centurion whom St. -Peter converted[118] belonged to this family; and possibly to him the -apostle owed his introduction at Rome to the head of his house, -Cornelius Pudens. This senator married Claudia, a noble British lady; -and it is singular how the unchaste poet Martial vies with the purest -writers when he sings the wedding-song of these two virtuous spouses. - -It was in their house that St. Peter lived; and his fellow-apostle St. -Paul enumerates them among his familiar friends, as well: “Eubulus and -Pudens, and Linus and Claudia, - -[Illustration: St. Pudentiana, St. Priscilla, and St. Praxedes.] - -and all the brethren salute thee.”[119] From that house, then, went -forth the bishops, whom the Prince of the Apostles sent in every -direction, to propagate, and die for, the faith of Christ. After the -death of Pudens, the house became the property of his children, or -grandchildren,[120] two sons and two daughters. The latter are better -known, because they have found a place in the general calendar of the -Church, and because they have given their names to two of the most -illustrious churches of Rome, those of St. Praxedes and St. Pudentiana. -It is the latter, which Alban Butler calls “the most ancient church in -the world,”[121] that marks at once the Vicus Patricius, and the house -of Pudens. - -As in every other city, so in Rome, the eucharistic sacrifice was -offered originally in only one place, by the bishop. And even after more -churches were erected, and the faithful met in them, communion was -brought to them from the one altar by the deacons, and distributed by -the priests. It was Pope Evaristus, the fourth successor of St. Peter, -who multiplied the churches of Rome with circumstances peculiarly -interesting. - -This Pope, then, did two things. First, he enacted that from -thenceforward no altars should be erected except of stone, and that they -should be consecrated; and secondly, “he distributed the _titles_;” that -is, he divided Rome into parishes, to the churches of which he gave the -name of “title.” The connection of these two acts will be apparent to -any one looking at Genesis xxviii.; where, after Jacob had enjoyed an -angelic vision, while sleeping with a stone for his pillow, we are told -that, “trembling he said, How terrible is this place! _This is no other -than the house of God_, and the gate of heaven. And Jacob arising in the -morning _took the stone_,..... _and set it up for a title, pouring oil -on the top of it_.”[122] - -The church or oratory, where the sacred mysteries were celebrated, was -truly, to the Christian, the house of God; and the stone altar, set up -in it, was consecrated by the pouring of oil upon it, as is done to this -day (for the whole law of Evaristus remains in full force); and thus -became a _title_, or monument.[123] - -Two interesting facts are elicited from this narrative. One is, that to -that time there was only one church with an altar in Rome; and no doubt -has ever been raised, that this was the church afterwards, and yet, -known by the name of St. Pudentiana. Another is, that the one altar till -then existing was not of stone. It was, in fact, the wooden altar used -by St. Peter, and kept in that church, till transferred by St. Sylvester -to the Lateran basilica, of which it forms the high altar.[124] We -further conclude, that the law was not retrospective, and that the -wooden altar of the Popes was preserved at that church, where it had -been first erected, though from time to time it might be carried, and -used elsewhere. - -The church in the Vicus Patricius, therefore, which existed previous to -the creation of _titles_, was not itself a title. It continued to be the -episcopal, or rather the pontifical church of Rome. The pontificate of -St. Pius I., from 142 to 157, forms an interesting period in its -history, for two reasons. - -First, that Pope, without altering the character of the church itself, -added to it an oratory which he made a _title_;[125] and having collated -to it his brother Pastor, it was called the _titulus Pastoris_, the -designation, for a long time, of the cardinalate attached to the church. -This shows that the church itself was more than a title. - -Secondly, in this pontificate came to Rome, for the second time, and -suffered martyrdom, the holy and learned apologist St. Justin. By -comparing his writings with his Acts,[126] we come to some interesting -conclusions respecting Christian worship in times of persecution. - -“In what place do the Christians meet?” he is asked by the judge. - -“Do you think,” he replies, “that we all meet in one place? It is not -so.” But when interrogated where he lived, and where he held meetings -with his disciples, he answered, “I have lived till now near the house -of a certain Martin, at the bath known as the Timotine. I have come to -Rome for the second time, nor do I know any other place but the one I -have mentioned.” The Timotine or Timothean baths were part of the house -of the Pudens family, and are those at which we have said that Fulvius -and Corvinus met early one morning. Novatus and Timotheus were the -brothers of the holy virgins Praxedes and Pudentiana; and hence the -baths were called the Novatian and the Timotine, as they passed from one -brother to another. - -St. Justin, therefore, lived on this spot, and, _as he knew no other in -Rome_, attended divine worship there. The very claims of hospitality -would suggest it. Now in his apology, describing the Christian liturgy, -of course such as he saw it, he speaks of the officiating priest in -terms that sufficiently describe the bishop, or supreme pastor of the -place; not only by giving him a title applied to bishops in -antiquity,[127] but by describing him as the person who has the care of -orphans and widows, and succors the sick, the indigent, prisoners, -strangers who come as guests, who, “in one word, undertakes to provide -for all in want.” This could be no other than the bishop or pope -himself. - -We must further observe, that St. Pius is recorded to have erected a -fixed baptismal font in this church, another prerogative of the -cathedral, transferred with the papal altar to the Lateran. It is -related that the holy Pope Stephen (A.D. 257) baptized the tribune -Nemesius and his family, with many others, in the _title_ of -Pastor.[128] And here it was that the blessed deacon Laurentius -distributed the rich vessels of the Church to the poor. - -In time this name has given way to another. But the place is the same; -and no doubt can exist, that the church of St. Pudentiana was, for the -first three centuries, the humble cathedral of Rome. - -It was to this spot, therefore, that Torquatus unwillingly consented to -lead Fulvius, that he might witness the December ordination. - -We find either in sepulchral inscriptions, in martyrologies, or in -ecclesiastical history, abundant traces of all the orders, as still -conferred in the Catholic Church. Inscriptions perhaps more commonly -record those of Lector or reader, and of Exorcist. We will give one -interesting example of each. Of a Lector: - - CINNAMIVS OPAS LECTOR TITVLI FASCIOLE AMICVS PAVPERVM - QVI VIXIT ANN. XLVI. MENS. VII. D. VIII. DEPOSIT IN PACE - X KAL. MART.[129] - -Of an Exorcist: - - MACEDONIVS - EXORCISTA DE KATOLICA.[130] - -A difference was, however, that one order was not necessarily a passage, -or step, to another; but persons remained, often for life, in one of -these lesser orders. There was not, therefore, that frequent -administration of these, nor probably was it publicly performed with the -higher orders. - -Torquatus, having the necessary pass-word, entered, accompanied by -Fulvius, who soon showed himself expert in acting as others did around -him. The assembly was not large. It was held in a hall of the house, -converted into a church or oratory, which was mainly occupied by the -clergy, and the candidates for orders. Among the latter were Marcus and -Marcellianus, the twin brothers, fellow-converts of Torquatus, who -received the deaconship, and their father Tranquillinus, who was -ordained priest. Of these Fulvius impressed well in his mind the -features and figure; and still more did he take note of the clergy, the -most eminent of Rome, there assembled. But on one, more than the rest, -he fixed his piercing eye, studying his every gesture, look, voice, and -lineament. - -This was the Pontiff who performed the august rite. Marcellinus had -already governed the Church six years, and was of a venerable old age. -His countenance, benign and mild, scarcely seemed to betoken the -possession of that nerve which martyrdom required, and which he -exhibited in his death for Christ. In those days every outward -characteristic which could have betrayed the chief shepherd to the -wolves was carefully avoided. The ordinary simple garb of respectable -men was worn. But there is no doubt that when officiating at the altar, -a distinctive robe, the forerunner of the ample chasuble, of spotless -white, was cast over the ordinary garment. To this the bishop added a -crown, or _infula_, the origin of the later mitre; while in his hand he -held the crosier, emblem of his pastoral office and authority. - -On him who now stood facing the assembly, before the sacred altar of -Peter, which was between him and the - -[Illustration: Our Saviour represented as the Good Shepherd, with a -Milk-can at his side, as found in the Catacombs.] - -people,[131] the Eastern spy steadied his keenest glance. He scanned him -minutely, measured, with his eye, his height, defined the color of his -hair and complexion, observed every turn of his head, his walk, his -action, his tones, almost his breathing, till he said to himself: “If he -stirs abroad, disguised as he may choose, that man is my prize. And I -know his worth.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE VIRGINS. - - PRIE IVN PAVSA - BET PRAETIOSA - ANNORVM PVLLA - VIRGO XII TANTVM - ANCILLA DEI ET [=XPI] - FL. VINCENTIO ET - FRAVITO. [=VC] · CONSS.[132] - - -If the learned Thomassinus had known this lately-discovered inscription, -when he proved with such abundance of learning, that virginity could be -professed in the early Church, at the age of twelve, he would certainly -have quoted it.[133] For can we doubt that “the girl who was a virgin of -_only_ twelve years old, a handmaid of God and Christ,” was such by -consecration to God? Otherwise, the more tender her age, the less -wonderful her state of maidenhood. - -But although this, the nubile age, according to Roman law, was the one -at which such dedication to God was permitted by the Church, she -reserved to a maturer period that more solemn consecration, when the -veil of virginity was given by the bishop; generally on Easter Sunday. -That first act probably consisted of nothing more than receiving from -the hands of parents a plain dark dress. But when any danger threatened, -the Church permitted the anticipation, by many years, of that period, -and fortified the spouses of Christ in their holy purpose, by her more -solemn blessing.[134] - -A persecution of the most savage character was on the point of breaking -out, which would not spare the most tender of the flock; and it was no -wonder that they, who in their hearts had betrothed themselves to the -Lamb, as His chaste spouses forever, should desire to come to His -nuptials before death. They longed naturally to bear the full-grown -lily, entwined round the palm, should this be their portion. - -Agnes had from her infancy chosen for herself this holiest state. The -superhuman wisdom which had ever exhibited itself in her words and -actions, blending so gracefully with the simplicity of an innocent and -guileless childhood, rendered her ripe, beyond her years, for any -measure of indulgence which could be granted, to hearts that panted for -their chaste bridal-hour. She eagerly seized on the claim that coming -danger gave her, to a more than usual relaxation of that law which -prescribed a delay of more than ten years in the fulfilling of her -desire. Another postulant joined her in this petition. - -We may easily imagine that a holy friendship had been growing between -her and Syra, from the first interview which we have described between -them. This feeling had been increased by all that Agnes had heard -Fabiola say, in praise of her favorite servant. From this, and from the -slave’s more modest reports, she was satisfied that the work to which -she had devoted herself, of her mistress’s conversion, must be entirely -left in her hands. It was evidently prospering, owing to the prudence -and grace with which it was conducted. In her frequent visits to -Fabiola, she contented herself with admiring and approving what her -cousin related of Syra’s conversations; but she carefully avoided every -expression that could raise suspicion of any collusion between them. - -Syra as a dependant, and Agnes as a relation, had put on mourning upon -Fabius’s death; and hence no change of habit would raise suspicion in -his daughter’s mind, of their having taken some secret, or some joint -step. Thus far they could safely ask to be admitted at once to receive -the solemn consecration to perpetual virginity. Their petition was -granted; but for obvious reasons was kept carefully concealed. It was -only a day or two before the happy one of their spiritual nuptials, that -Syra told it, as a great secret, to her blind friend. - -“And so,” said the latter, pretending to be displeased, “you want to -keep all the good things to yourself. Do you call that charitable, now?” - -“My dear child,” said Syra, soothingly, “don’t be offended. It was -necessary to keep it quite a secret.” - -“And therefore, I suppose, poor I must not even be present?” - -“Oh, yes, Cæcilia, to be sure you may; and see all that you can,” -replied Syra, laughing. - -“Never mind about the seeing. But tell me, how will you be dressed? What -have you to get ready?” - -Syra gave her an exact description of the habit and veil, their color -and form. - -“How very interesting!” she said. “And what have you to do?” - -The other, amused at her unwonted curiosity, described minutely the -short ceremonial. - -“Well now, one question more,” resumed the blind girl. “When and where -is all this to be? You said I might come, so I must know the time and -place.” - -Syra told her it would be at the _title_ of Pastor, at daybreak, on the -third day from that. “But what has made you so inquisitive, dearest? I -never saw you so before. I am afraid you are becoming quite worldly.” - -“Never you mind,” replied Cæcilia, “if people choose to have secrets -from me, I do not see why I should not have some of my own.” - -Syra laughed at her affected pettishness, for she knew well the humble -simplicity of the poor child’s heart. They embraced affectionately and -parted. Cæcilia went straight to the kind Lucina, for she was a favorite -in every house. No sooner was she admitted to that pious matron’s -presence, than she flew to her, threw herself upon her bosom, and burst -into tears. Lucina soothed and caressed her, and soon composed her. In a -few minutes she was again bright and joyous, and evidently deep in -conspiracy, with the cheerful lady, about something which delighted her. -When she left she was all buoyant and blithe, and went to the house of -Agnes, in the hospital of which the good priest Dyonisius lived. She -found him at home; and casting herself on her knees before him, talked -so fervently to him that he was moved to tears, and spoke kindly and -consolingly to her. The _Te Deum_ had not yet been written; but -something very like it rang in the blind girl’s heart, as she went to -her humble home. - -The happy morning at length arrived, and before daybreak the more solemn -mysteries had been celebrated, and the body of the faithful had -dispersed. Only those remained who had to take part in the more private -function, or who were specially asked to witness it. These were Lucina -and her son, the aged parents of Agnes, and of course Sebastian. But -Syra looked in vain for her blind friend; she had evidently retired -with the crowd; and the gentle slave feared she might have hurt her -feelings by her reserve, before their last interview. - -The hall was still shrouded in the dusk of a winter’s twilight, although -the glowing east, without, foretold a bright December day. On the altar -burned perfumed tapers of large dimensions, and round it were gold and -silver lamps of great value, throwing an atmosphere of mild radiance -upon the sanctuary. In front of the altar was placed the chair no less -venerable than itself, now enshrined in the Vatican, the chair of Peter. -On this was seated the venerable Pontiff, with staff in hand, and crown -on head, and round him stood his ministers, scarcely less worshipful -than himself. - -[Illustration: Chair of St. Peter.] - -From the gloom of the chapel, there came forth first the sound of sweet -voices, like those of angels, chanting in soft cadence, a hymn, which -anticipated the sentiments soon after embodied in the - - “Jesu corona virginum.”[135] - -Then there emerged into the light of the sanctuary the procession of -already consecrated virgins, led by the priests and deacons who had -charge of them. And in the midst of them appeared two, whose dazzling -white garments shone the brighter amidst their dark habits. These were -the two new postulants, who, as the rest defiled and formed a line on -either side, were conducted, each by two professed, to the foot of the -altar, where they knelt at the Pontiff’s feet. Their bridesmaids, or -sponsors, stood near to assist in the function. - -Each as she came was asked solemnly what she desired, and expressed her -wish to receive the veil, and practise its duties, under the care of -those chosen guides. For, although consecrated virgins had begun to live -in community before this period, yet many continued to reside at home; -and persecution interfered with enclosure. Still there was a place in -church, boarded off for the consecrated virgins; and they often met -apart, for particular instruction and devotions. - -The bishop then addressed the young aspirants, in glowing and -affectionate words. He told them how high a call it was to lead on earth -the lives of angels, who neither marry nor give in marriage, to tread -the same chaste path to heaven which the Incarnate Word chose for His -own Mother; and arrived there, to be received into the pure ranks of -that picked host, that follows the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. He -expatiated on the doctrine of St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians on -the superiority of virginity to every other state; and he feelingly -described the happiness of having no love on earth but one, which -instead of fading, opens out into immortality, in heaven. For bliss, he -observed, is but the expanded flower which Divine love bears on earth. - -After this brief discourse, and an examination of the candidates for -this great honor, the holy Pontiff proceeded to bless the different -portions of their religious habits, by prayers probably nearly identical -with those now in use; and these were put on them by their respective -attendants. The new religious laid their heads upon the altar, in token -of their oblation of self. But in the West, the hair was not cut, as it -was in the East, but was always left long. A wreath of flowers was then -placed upon the head of each; and though it was winter, the well-guarded -terrace of Fabiola had been made to furnish bright and fragrant -blossoms. - -All seemed ended; and Agnes, kneeling at the foot of the altar, was -motionless in one of her radiant raptures, gazing fixedly upwards; while -Syra, near her, was bowed down, sunk into the depths of her gentle -humility, wondering how she should have been found worthy of so much -favor. So absorbed were both in their thanksgiving, that they perceived -not a slight commotion through the assembly, as if something unexpected -was occurring. - -They were aroused by the bishop repeating the question: “My daughter, -what dost thou seek?” when, before they could look round, each felt a -hand seized, and heard the answer returned in a voice dear to both: -“Holy father, to receive the veil of consecration to Jesus Christ, my -only love on earth, under the care of these two holy virgins, already -His happy spouses.” - -They were overwhelmed with joy and tenderness; for it was the poor blind -Cæcilia. When she heard of the happiness that awaited Syra, she had -flown, as we have seen, to the kind Lucina, who soon consoled her, by -suggesting to her the possibility of obtaining a similar grace. She -promised to furnish all that was necessary; only Cæcilia insisted that -her dress should be coarse, as became a poor beggar-girl. The priest -Dionysius presented to the Pontiff, and obtained the grant of, her -prayer; and as she wished to have her two friends for sponsors, it was -arranged that he should lead her up to the altar after their -consecration. Cæcilia, however, kept her secret. - -The blessings were spoken, and the habit and veil put on; when they -asked her if she had brought no wreath or flowers. Timidly she drew from -under her garment the crown she had provided, a bare, thorny branch, -twisted into a circle, and presented it, saying: - -“I have no flowers to offer to my Bridegroom, neither did He wear -flowers for me. I am but a poor girl, and do you think my Lord will be -offended, if I ask Him to crown me, as He was pleased to be crowned -Himself? And then, flowers represent virtues in those that wear them; -but my barren heart has produced nothing better than these.” - -[Illustration: The Anchor and Fishes, an emblem of Christianity, found -in the Catacombs.] - -She saw not, with her blind eyes, how her two companions snatched the -wreaths from their heads, to put on hers; but a sign from the Pontiff -checked them; and amidst moistened eyes, she was led forth, all joyous, -in her thorny crown; emblem of what the Church has always taught, that -the very queenship of virtue is innocence crowned by penance. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE NOMENTAN VILLA. - - -The Nomentan road goes from Rome eastward, and between it and the -Salarian is a deep ravine, beyond which on the side of the Nomentan way -lies a gracefully undulating ground. Amidst this is situated a -picturesque round temple, and near it a truly beautiful basilica, -dedicated to St. Agnes. Here was the villa belonging to her, situated -about a mile and a half from the city; and thither it had been arranged -that the two, now the three, newly consecrated should repair, to spend -the day in retirement and tranquil joy. Few more such days, perhaps, -would ever be granted them. - -We need not describe this rural residence, except to say that everything -in it breathed contentment and happiness. It was one of those genial -days which a Roman winter supplies. The rugged Apennines were slightly -powdered with snow; the ground was barely crisp, the atmosphere -transparent, the sunshine glowing, and the heavens cloudless. A few -greyish curls of melting smoke from the cottages, and the leafless -vines, alone told that it was December. Everything living seemed to know -and love the gentle mistress of the place. The doves came and perched -upon her shoulder or her hand; the lambs in the paddock frisked, and ran -to her the moment she approached, and took the green fragrant herbs -which she brought them, with evident pleasure; but none owned her kindly -sway so much as old Molossus, the enormous watchdog. Chained beside the -gate, so fierce was he, that none but a few favorite domestics durst go -near him. But no sooner did Agnes appear than he crouched down, and -wagged his bushy tail, and whined, till he was let loose; for now a -child might approach him. He never left his mistress’s side; he followed -her like a lamb; and if she sat down he would lie at her feet, looking -into her face, delighted to receive, on his huge head, the caresses of -her slender hand. - -It was indeed a peaceful day; sometimes calm and quiet, soft and tender, -as the three spoke together of the morning’s happiness, and of the -happier morning of which it was a pledge, above the liquid amber of -their present skies; sometimes cheerful and even merry, as the two took -Cæcilia to task for the trick she had played them. And she laughed -cheerily, as she always did, and told them she had a better trick in -store for them yet; which was, that she would cut them out when that -next morning came; for she intended to be the first at it, and not the -last. - -Fabiola had, in the meantime, come to the villa to pay her first visit -to Agnes after her calamity, and to thank her for her sympathy. She -walked forward, but stopped suddenly on coming near the spot where this -happy group were assembled. For when she beheld the two who could see -the outward brightness of heaven, hanging over her who seemed to hold -all its splendor within her soul, she saw at once, in the scene, the -verification of her dream. Yet unwilling to intrude herself unexpectedly -upon them, and anxious to find Agnes alone, and not with her own slave -and a poor blind girl, she turned away before she was noticed, and -walked towards a distant part of the grounds. Still she could not help -asking herself, why she could not be cheerful and happy as they? Why was -there a gulf between them? - -But the day was not destined to finish without its clouds; it would have -been too blissful for earth. Besides Fabiola, another person had started -from Rome, to pay a less welcome visit to Agnes. This was Fulvius, who -had never forgotten the assurances of Fabius, that his fascinating -address and brilliant ornaments had turned the weak head of Agnes. He -had waited till the first days of mourning were over, and he respected -the house in which he had once received such a rude reception, or rather -suffered such a summary ejectment. Having ascertained that, for the -first time, she had gone without her parents, or any male attendants, to -her suburban villa, he considered it a good opportunity for pressing his -suit. He rode out of the Nomentan gate, and was soon at Agnes’s. He -dismounted; said he wished to see her on important business, and, after -some importunity, was admitted by the porter. He was directed along a -walk, at the end of which she would be found. The sun was declining, and -her companions had strolled to a distance, and she was sitting alone in -a bright sunny spot, with old Molossus crouching at her feet. The -slightest approach to a growl from him, rare when he was with her, made -her look up from her work of tying together such winter flowers as the -others brought her, while she suppressed, by raising a finger, this -expression of instinctive dislike. - -Fulvius came near with a respectful, but freer air than usual, as one -already assured of his request. - -“I have come, Lady Agnes,” he said, “to renew to you the expression of -my sincere regard; and I could not have chosen a better day, for -brighter or fairer scarcely the summer sun could have bestowed.” - -“Fair, indeed, and bright it has been to me,” replied Agnes, borne back -in mind to the morning’s scene; “and no sun in my life has ever given me -fairer,--it can only give me _one_ more fair.” - -Fulvius was flattered, as if the compliment was to his presence, and -answered, “The day, no doubt you mean, of your espousals with one who -may have won your heart.” - -“That is indeed done,” she replied, as if unconsciously; “and this is -his own precious day.” - -“And was that wreathed veil upon your head, placed there in anticipation -of this happy hour?” - -“Yes; it is the sign my beloved has placed upon my countenance, that I -recognize no lover but himself.”[136] - -“And who is this happy being? I was not without hopes, nor will I -renounce them yet, that I have a place in your thoughts, perhaps in your -affections.” - -Agnes seemed scarcely to heed his words. There was no appearance of -shyness or timidity in her looks or manner, no embarrassment even: - - “Spotless without, and innocent within, - She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.” - -Her childlike countenance remained bright, open, and guileless; her -eyes, mildly beaming, looked straight upon Fulvius’s face with an -earnest simplicity, that made him almost quail before her. She stood up -now, with graceful dignity, as she replied: - -“Milk and honey exhaled from his lips, as the blood from his stricken -cheek impressed itself on mine.”[137] - -She is crazed, Fulvius was just beginning to think; when the inspired -look of her countenance, and the clear brightness of her eye, as she -gazed forwards towards some object seen by herself alone, overawed and -subdued him. She recovered in an instant; and again he took heart. He -resolved at once to pursue his demand. - -“Madam,” he said, “you are trifling with one who sincerely admires and -loves you. I know from the best authority,--yes, the _best_ -authority,--that of a mutual friend departed, that you have been pleased -to think favorably of me, and to express yourself not opposed to my -urging my claims to your hand. I now, therefore, seriously and earnestly -solicit it. I may seem abrupt and informal, but I am sincere and warm.” - -“Begone from me, food of corruption!” she said with calm majesty; “for -already a lover has secured my heart, for whom alone I keep my troth, to -whom I intrust myself with undivided devotion; one whose love is chaste, -whose caress is pure, whose brides never put off their virginal -wreaths.”[138] - -Fulvius, who had dropped on his knee as he concluded his last sentence, -and had thus drawn forth that severe rebuke, rose, filled with spite and -fury, at having been so completely deluded. “Is it not enough to be -rejected,” he said, “after having been encouraged, but must insult be -heaped on me too? and must I be told to my face that another has been -before me to-day?--Sebastian, I suppose, again----” - -“Who are you?” exclaimed an indignant voice behind him, “that dare to -utter with disdain, the name of one whose honor is untarnished, and -whose virtue is as unchallenged as his courage?” - -He turned round, and stood confronted with Fabiola, who, having walked -for some time about the garden, thought she would now probably find her -cousin disengaged, and by herself. She had come upon him suddenly, and -had caught his last words. - -Fulvius was abashed, and remained silent. - -Fabiola, with a noble indignation, continued. “And who, too, are you, -who, not content with having once thrust yourself into my kinswoman’s -house, to insult her, presume now to intrude upon the privacy of her -rural retreat?” - -[Illustration: “Haughty Roman dame! thou shalt bitterly rue this day and -hour.”] - -“And who are you,” retorted Fulvius, “who take upon yourself to be -imperious mistress in another’s house?” - -“One,” replied the lady, “who, by allowing my cousin to meet you first -at her table, and there discovering your designs upon an innocent child, -feels herself bound in honor and duty to thwart them, and to shield her -from them.” - -She took Agnes by the hand, and was leading her away; and Molossus -required what he never remembered to have received before, but what he -took delightedly, a gentle little tap, to keep him from more than -growling; when Fulvius, gnashing his teeth, muttered audibly: - -“Haughty Roman dame! thou shalt bitterly rue this day and hour. Thou -shalt know and feel how Asia can revenge.” - -[Illustration: A Lamb between Wolves, emblematic of the Church, from a -picture in the Cemetery of St. Prætextatus.] - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -THE EDICT. - - -The day being at length arrived for its publication in Rome, Corvinus -fully felt the importance of the commission intrusted to him, of -affixing in its proper place in the Forum, the edict of extermination -against the Christians, or rather the sentence of extirpation of their -very name. News had been received from Nicodemia, that a brave Christian -soldier, named George, had torn down a similar imperial degree, and had -manfully suffered death for his boldness. Corvinus was determined that -nothing of the sort should happen in Rome; for he feared too seriously -the consequences of such an occurrence to himself; he therefore took -every precaution in his power. The edict had been written in large -characters, upon sheets of parchment joined together; and these were -nailed to a board, firmly supported by a pillar, against which it was -hung, not far from the Puteal Libonis, the magistrate’s chair in the -Forum. This, however, was not done till the Forum was deserted, and -night had well set in. It was thus intended that the edict should meet -the eyes of the citizens early in the morning, and strike their minds -with more tremendous effect. - -To prevent the possibility of any nocturnal attempt to destroy the -precious document, Corvinus, with much the same cunning precaution as -was taken by the Jewish priests to prevent the Resurrection, obtained -for a night-guard to the Forum, a company of the Pannonian cohort, a -body composed of soldiers belonging to the fiercest races of the North, -Dacians, Pannonians, Sarmatians, and Germans, whose uncouth features, -savage aspect, matted sandy hair, and bushy red moustaches, made them -appear absolutely ferocious to Roman eyes. These men could scarcely -speak Latin, but were ruled by officers of their own countries, and -formed, in the decline of the empire, the most faithful body-guard of -the reigning tyrants, often their fellow-countrymen; for there was no -excess too monstrous for them to commit, if duly commanded to execute -it. - -A number of these savages, ever rough and ready, were distributed so as -to guard every avenue of the Forum, with strict orders to pierce -through, or hew down, any one who should attempt to pass without the -watchword, or _symbolum_. This was every night distributed by the -general in command, through his tribunes and centurions, to all the -troops. But to prevent all possibility of any Christian making use of it -that night, if he should chance to discover it, the cunning Corvinus had -one chosen which he felt sure no Christian would use. It was NUMEN -IMPERATORUM: the “Divinity of the Emperors.” - -The last thing which he did was to make his rounds, giving to each -sentinel the strictest injunctions; and most minutely to the one whom he -had placed close to the edict. This man had been chosen for his post on -account of his rude strength and huge bulk, and the peculiar ferocity of -his looks and character. Corvinus gave him the most rigid instructions, -how he was to spare nobody, but to prevent any one’s interference with -the sacred edict. He repeated to him again and again the watchword; and -left him, already half-stupid with _sabaia_ or beer,[139] in the merest -animal consciousness, that it was his business, not an unpleasant one, -to spear, or sabre, some one or other before morning. The night was raw -and gusty, with occasional sharp and slanting showers; and the Dacian -wrapped himself in his cloak, and walked up and down, occasionally -taking a long pull at a flask concealed about him, containing a liquor -said to be distilled from the wild cherries of the Thuringian forests; -and in the intervals muddily meditating, not on the wood or river, by -which his young barbarians were at play, but how soon it would be time -to cut the present emperor’s throat, and sack the city. - -While all this was going on, old Diogenes and his hearty sons were in -their poor house in the Suburra, not far off, making preparations for -their frugal meal. They were interrupted by a gentle tap at the door, -followed by the lifting of the latch, and the entrance of two young men, -whom Diogenes at once recognized and welcomed. - -“Come in, my noble young masters; how good of you thus to honor my poor -dwelling! I hardly dare offer you our plain fare; but if you will -partake of it, you will indeed give us a Christian love-feast.” - -“Thank you most kindly, father Diogenes,” answered the elder of the two, -Quadratus, Sebastian’s sinewy centurion: “Pancratius and I have come -expressly to sup with you. But not as yet; we have some business in this -part of the town, and after it we shall be glad to eat something. In the -meantime one of your youths can go out and cater for us. Come, we must -have something good; and I want you to cheer yourself with a moderate -cup of generous wine.” - -Saying this he gave his purse to one of the sons, with instructions to -bring home some better provisions than he knew the simple family usually -enjoyed. They sat down; and Pancratius, by way of saying something, -addressed the old man. “Good Diogenes, I have heard Sebastian say that -you remember seeing the glorious Deacon Laurentius die for Christ. Tell -me something about him.” - -“With pleasure,” answered the old man. “It is now nearly forty-five -years since it happened,[140] and as I was older then than you are now, -you may suppose I remember all quite distinctly. He was indeed a -beautiful youth to look at: so mild and sweet, so fair and graceful; and -his speech was so gentle, so soft, especially when speaking to the poor. -How they all loved him! I followed him everywhere; I stood by as the -venerable Pontiff Sixtus was going to death, and Laurentius met him, and -so tenderly reproached him, just as a son might a father, for not -allowing him to be his companion in the sacrifice of himself, as he had -ministered to him in the sacrifice of our Lord’s body and blood.” - -“Those were splendid times, Diogenes, were they not?” interrupted the -youth; “how degenerate we are now! What a different race! Are we not, -Quadratus?” - -The rough soldier smiled at the generous sincerity of his complaint, and -bid Diogenes go on. - -“I saw him too as he distributed the rich plate of the Church to the -poor. We have never had any thing so splendid since. There were golden -lamps and candlesticks, censors, chalices, and patens,[141] besides an -immense quantity of silver melted down, and distributed to the blind, -the lame, and the indigent.” - -“But tell me,” asked Pancratius, “how did he endure his last dreadful -torment? It must have been frightful.” - -“I saw it all,” answered the old fossor, “and it would have been -intolerably frightful in another. He had been first placed on the rack, -and variously tormented, and he had not uttered a groan; when the judge -ordered that horrid bed, or gridiron, to be prepared and heated. To look -at his tender flesh blistering and breaking over the fire, and deeply -scored with red burning gashes that cut to the bone where the iron bars -went across; to see the steam, thick as from a cauldron, rise from his -body, and hear the fire hiss beneath him, as he melted away into it; and -every now and then to observe the tremulous quivering that crept over -the surface of his skin, the living motion which the agony gave to each -separate muscle, and the sharp spasmodic twitches which convulsed, and -gradually contracted, his limbs; all this, I own, was the most harrowing -spectacle I have ever beheld in all my life. But to look into his -countenance was to forget all this. His head was raised up from the -burning body, and stretched out, as if fixed on the contemplation of -some most celestial vision, like that of his fellow-deacon Stephen. His -face glowed indeed with the heat below, and the perspiration flowed down -it; but the light from the fire shining upwards, and passing through his -golden locks, created a glory round his beautiful head and countenance, -which made him look as if already in heaven. And every feature, serene -and sweet as ever, was so impressed with an eager, longing look, -accompanying the upward glancing of his eye, that you would willingly -have changed places with him.” - -“That I would,” again broke in Pancratius, “and, as soon as God pleases! -I dare not think that I could stand what he did; for he was indeed a -noble and heroic Levite, while I am only a weak imperfect boy. But do -you not think, dear Quadratus, that strength is given in that hour, -proportionate to our trials, whatever they may be? You, I know, would -stand any thing; for you are a fine stout soldier, accustomed to toil -and wounds. But as for me, I have only a willing heart to give. Is that -enough, think you?” - -“Quite, quite, my dear boy,” exclaimed the centurion, full of emotion, -and looking tenderly on the youth, who with glistening eyes, having -risen from his seat, had placed his hands upon the officer’s shoulders. -“God will give you strength, as He has already given you courage. But we -must not forget our night’s work. Wrap yourself well up in your cloak, -and bring your toga quite over your head; so! It is a wet and bitter -night. Now, good Diogenes, put more wood on the fire, and let us find -supper ready on our return. We shall not be long absent; and just leave -the door ajar.” - -“Go, go, my sons,” said the old man, “and God speed you! whatever you -are about, I am sure it is something praiseworthy.” - -Quadratus sturdily drew his chlamys, or military cloak, around him, and -the two youths plunged into the dark lanes of the Suburra, and took the -direction of the Forum. While they were absent, the door was opened, -with the well-known salutation of “thanks to God;” and Sebastian -entered, and inquired anxiously if Diogenes had seen any thing of the -two young men; for he had got a hint of what they were going to do. He -was told they were expected in a few moments. - -A quarter of an hour had scarcely elapsed, when hasty steps were heard -approaching; the door was pushed open, and was as quickly shut, and then -fast barred, behind Quadratus and Pancratius. - -“Here it is,” said the latter, producing, with a hearty laugh, a bundle -of crumpled parchment. - -“What?” asked all eagerly. - -“Why, the grand decree, of course,” answered Pancratius, with boyish -glee; “look here, ‘DOMINI NOSTRI DIOCLETIANUS ET MAXIMIANUS, INVICTI, -SENIORES AUGUSTI, PATRES IMPERATORUM ET CÆSARUM,’[142] and so forth. -Here it goes!” And he thrust it into the blazing fire, while the -stalwart sons of Diogenes threw - -[Illustration: “Here it goes!” And he thrust it into the blazing -fire.] - -a faggot over it to keep it down, and drown its crackling. There it -frizzled, and writhed, and cracked, and shrunk, first one letter or word -coming up, then another; first an emperor’s praise, and then an -anti-Christian blasphemy; till all had subsided into a black ashy mass. - -And what else, or more, would those be in a few years who had issued -that proud document, when their corpses should have been burnt on a pile -of cedar-wood and spices, and their handful of ashes be scraped -together, hardly enough to fill a gilded urn? And what also, in very few -years more, would that heathenism be, which it was issued to keep alive, -but a dead letter at most, and as worthless a heap of extinguished -embers as lay on that hearth? And the very empire which these -“unconquered” Augusti were bolstering up by cruelty and injustice, how -in a few centuries would it resemble that annihilated decree? the -monuments of its grandeur lying in ashes, or in ruins, and proclaiming -that there is no true Lord but one stronger than Cæsars, the Lord of -lords; and that neither counsel nor strength of man shall prevail -against Him. - -Something like this did Sebastian think, perhaps, as he gazed -abstractedly on the expiring embers of the pompous and cruel edict which -they had torn down, not for a wanton frolic, but because it contained -blasphemies against God and His holiest truths. They knew that if they -should be discovered, tenfold tortures would be their lot; but -Christians in those days, when they contemplated and prepared for -martyrdom, made no calculation on that head. Death for Christ, whether -quick and easy, or lingering and painful, was the end for which they -looked; and, like brave soldiers going to battle, they did not speculate -where a shaft or a sword might strike them, whether a death-blow would -at once stun them out of existence, or they should have to writhe for -hours upon the ground, mutilated or pierced, to die by inches among the -heaps of unheeded slain. - -Sebastian soon recovered, and had hardly the heart to reprove the -perpetrators of this deed. In truth, it had its ridiculous side, and he -was inclined to laugh at the morrow’s dismay. This view he gladly took, -for he saw Pancratius watched his looks with some trepidation, and his -centurion looked a little disconcerted. So, after a hearty laugh, they -sat down cheerfully to their meal; for it was not midnight, and the hour -for commencing the fast, preparatory to receiving the holy Eucharist, -was not arrived. Quadratus’s object, besides kindness, in this -arrangement, was partly, that if surprised, a reason for their being -there might be apparent, partly to keep up the spirits of his younger -companion and of Diogenes’s household, if alarmed at the bold deed just -performed. But there was no appearance of any such feeling. The -conversation soon turned upon recollections of Diogenes’s youth, and the -good old fervent times, as Pancratius would persist in calling them. -Sebastian saw his friend home, and then took a round, to avoid the Forum -in seeking his own abode. If any one had seen Pancratius that night, -when alone in his chamber preparing to retire to rest, he would have -seen him every now and then almost laughing at some strange but pleasant -adventure. - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -THE DISCOVERY. - - -At the first dawn of morning, Corvinus was up; and, notwithstanding the -gloominess of the day, proceeded straight to the Forum. He found his -outposts quite undisturbed, and hastened to the principal object of his -care. It would be useless to attempt describing his astonishment, his -rage, his fury, when he saw the blank board, with only a few shreds of -parchment left, round the nails; and beside it standing, in unconscious -stolidity, his Dacian sentinel. - -He would have darted at his throat, like a tiger, if he had not seen, in -the barbarian’s twinkling eye, a sort of hyena squint, which told him he -had better not. But he broke out at once into a passionate exclamation: - -“Sirrah! how has the edict disappeared? Tell me directly!” - -“Softly, softly, Herr Kornweiner,” answered the imperturbable Northern. -“There it is as you left it in my charge.” - -“Where, you fool? Come and look at it.” - -The Dacian went to his side, and for the first time confronted the -board; and after looking at it for some moments, exclaimed: “Well, is -not that the board you hung up last night?” - -“Yes, you blockhead, but there was writing on it, which is gone. That is -what you had to guard.” - -“Why, look you, captain, as to writing, you see I know nothing, having -never been a scholar; but as it was raining all night, it may have been -washed out.” - -“And as it was blowing, I suppose the parchment on which it was written -was blown off?” - -“No doubt, Herr Kornweiner; you are quite right.” - -“Come, sir, this is no joking matter. Tell me, at once, who came here -last night.” - -“Why, two of them came.” - -“Two of what?” - -“Two wizards, or goblins, or worse.” - -“None of that nonsense for me.” The Dacian’s eye flashed drunkenly -again. “Well, tell me, Arminius, what sort of people they were, and what -they did.” - -“Why, one of them was but a stripling, a boy, tall and thin; who went -round the pillar, and I suppose must have taken away what you miss, -while I was busy with the other.” - -“And what of him? What was _he_ like?” - -The soldier opened his mouth and eyes, and stared at Corvinus for some -moments, then said, with a sort of stupid solemnity, “What was he like? -Why, if he was not Thor himself, he wasn’t far from it. I never felt -such strength.” - -“What did he do to show it?” - -“He came up first, and began to chat quite friendly, asked me if it was -not very cold, and that sort of thing. At last I remembered that I had -to run through any one that came near me----” - -“Exactly,” interrupted Corvinus; “and why did you not do it?” - -“Only because he wouldn’t let me. I told him to be off, or I should -spear him, and drew back and stretched out my javelin; when in the -quietest manner, but I don’t know how, he twisted it out of my hand, -broke it over his knee, as if it had been a mountebank’s wooden sword, -and dashed the iron-headed piece fast into the ground, where you see it, -fifty yards off.” - -“Then why did you not rush on him with your sword, and despatch him at -once? But where _is_ your sword? it is not in your scabbard.” - -The Dacian, with a stupid grin, pointed to the roof of the neighboring -basilica, and said: “There, don’t you see it shining on the tiles, in -the morning light?” Corvinus looked, and there indeed he saw what -appeared like such an object, but he could hardly believe his own eyes. - -“How did it get there, you stupid booby?” he asked. - -The soldier twisted his moustache in an ominous way, which made Corvinus -ask again more civilly, and then he was answered: - -“He, or it, whatever it was, without any apparent effort, by a sort of -conjuring, whisked it out of my hand, and up where you see it, as easily -as I could cast a quoit a dozen yards.” - -“And then?” - -“And then, he and the boy, who came from round the pillar, walked off in -the dark.” - -“What a strange story!” muttered Corvinus to himself; “yet there are -proofs of the fellow’s tale. It is not every one who could have -performed that feat. But pray, sirrah, why did you not give the alarm, -and rouse the other guards to pursuit?” - -“First, Master Kornweiner, because, in my country, we will fight any -living men, but we do not choose to pursue hobgoblins. And, secondly, -what was the use? I saw the board that you gave into my care all safe -and sound.” - -“Stupid barbarian!” growled Corvinus, but well within his teeth; then -added: “This business will go hard with you; you know it is a capital -offence.” - -“What is?” - -“Why, to let a man come up and speak to you, without giving the -watchword.” - -“Gently, captain; who says he did not give it? I never said so.” - -“But did he, though? Then it could be no Christian.” - -“Oh yes, he came up, and said quite plainly, ‘_Nomen -Imperatorum_.’”[143] - -“What?” roared out Corvinus. - -“_Nomen Imperatorum._” - -“‘_Numen Imperatorum_’ was the watchword,” shrieked the enraged Roman. - -“_Nomen_ or _Numen_, it’s all the same, I suppose. A letter can’t make -any difference. You call me Arminius, and I call myself Hermann, and -they mean the same. How should _I_ know your nice points of language?” - -Corvinus was enraged at himself; for he saw how much better he would -have gained his ends, by putting a sharp, intelligent prætorian on duty, -instead of a sottish, savage foreigner. “Well,” he said, in the worst of -humors, “you will have to answer to the emperor for all this; and you -know he is not accustomed to pass over offences.” - -“Look you now, Herr Krummbeiner,” returned the soldier, with a look of -sly stolidity; “as to that, we are pretty well in the same boat.” -(Corvinus turned pale, for he knew this was true.) “And you must -contrive something to save me, if you want to save yourself. It was you -the emperor made responsible, for the what-d’ye-call-it?--that board.” - -“You are right, my friend; I must make it out that a strong body -attacked you, and killed you at your post. So shut yourself up in -quarters for a few days, and you shall have plenty of beer, till the -thing blows over.” - -The soldier went off, and concealed himself. A few days after, the dead -body of a Dacian, evidently murdered, was washed on the banks of the -Tiber. It was supposed he had fallen in some drunken row; and no further -trouble was taken about it. The fact was indeed so; but Corvinus could -have given the best account of the transaction. Before, however, leaving -the ill-omened spot in the Forum, he had carefully examined the ground, -for any trace of the daring act; when he picked up, close under the -place of the edict, a knife, which he was sure he had seen at school, in -possession of one of his companions. He treasured it up, as an implement -of future vengeance, and hastened to provide another copy of the decree. - -[Illustration: An Emblem of Paradise, found in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -EXPLANATIONS. - - -When morning had fairly broken, crowds streamed, from every side, into -the Forum, curious to read the tremendous edict so long menaced. But -when they found only a bare board, there was a universal uproar. Some -admired the spirit of the Christians, so generally reckoned cowardly; -others were indignant at the audacity of such an act; some ridiculed the -officials concerned in the proclamation; others were angry that the -expected sport of the day might be delayed. - -At an early hour the places of public fashionable resort were all -occupied with the same theme. In the great Antonian Thermæ a group of -regular frequenters were talking it over. There were Scaurus the lawyer, -and Proculus, and Fulvius, and the philosopher Calpurnius, who seemed -very busy with some musty volumes, and several others. - -“What a strange affair this is, about the edict!” said one. - -“Say rather, what a treasonable outrage against the divine emperors!” -answered Fulvius. - -“How was it done?” asked a third. - -“Have you not heard,” said Proculus, “that the Dacian guard stationed at -the Puteal was found dead, with twenty-seven poniard-wounds on him, -nineteen of which would have sufficed each by itself to cause death?” - -“No, that is quite a false report,” interrupted Scaurus; “it was not -done by violence, but entirely by witchcraft. Two women came up to the -soldier, who drove his lance at one, and it passed clean through her, -and stuck in the ground on the other side, without making any wound in -her. He then hacked at the other with his sword, but he might as well -have struck at marble. She then threw a pinch of powder upon him, and he -flew into the air, and was found, asleep and unhurt, this morning, on -the roof of the Æmilian basilica. A friend of mine, who was out early, -saw the ladder up, by which he had been brought down.” - -“Wonderful!” many exclaimed. “What extraordinary people these Christians -must be!” - -“I don’t believe a word of it,” observed Proculus. “There is no such -power in magic; and certainly I don’t see why these wretched men should -possess it more than their betters. Come, Calpurnius,” he continued, -“put by that old book, and answer these questions. I learnt more, one -day after dinner, about these Christians from you, than I had heard in -all my life before. What a wonderful memory you must have, to remember -so accurately the genealogy and history of that barbarous people! Is -what Scaurus has just told us possible, or not?” - -Calpurnius delivered himself, with great pompousness, as follows: - -“There is no reason to suppose such a thing impossible; for the power of -magic has no bounds. To prepare a powder that would make a man fly in -the air, it would be only necessary to find some herbs in which air -predominates more than the other three elements. Such for instance are -pulse, or lentils, according to Pythagoras. These, being gathered when -the sun is in Libra, the nature of which is to balance even heavy things -in the air, at the moment of conjunction with Mercury, a winged power as -you know, and properly energized by certain mysterious words, by a -skilful magician, then reduced to powder in a mortar made out of an -aerolite, or stone that had flown up into the sky, and come down again, -would no doubt, when rightly used, enable, or force a person to fly up -into the air. It is well known, indeed, that the Thessalian witches go -at pleasure through the clouds, from place to place, which must be done -by means of some such charm. - -“Then, as to the Christians; you will remember, excellent Proculus, that -in the account to which you have done me the honor to allude, which was -at the deified Fabius’s table, if I remember right, I mentioned that the -sect came originally from Chaldæa, a country always famous for its -occult arts. But we have a most important evidence bearing on this -matter, recorded in history. It is quite certain, that here in Rome, a -certain Simon, who was sometimes called Simon Peter, and at other times -Simon Magus, actually in public flew up high into the air; but his charm -having slipped out of his belt, he fell and broke both his legs; for -which reason he was obliged to be crucified with his head downwards.” - -“Then are all Christians necessarily sorcerers?” asked Scaurus. - -“Necessarily; it is part of their superstition. They believe their -priests to have most extraordinary power over nature. Thus, for example, -they think they can bathe the bodies of people in water, and their souls -acquire thereby wonderful gifts and superiority, should they be slaves, -over their masters, and the divine emperors themselves.” - -“Dreadful!” all cried out. - -“Then, again,” resumed Calpurnius, “we all know what a frightful crime -some of them committed last night, in tearing down a supreme edict of -the imperial deities; and even suppose (which the gods avert) that they -carried their treasons still further, and attempted their sacred lives, -they believe that they have only to go to one of those priests, own the -crime, and ask for pardon; and, if he gives it, they consider themselves -as perfectly guiltless.” - -“Fearful!” joined in the chorus. - -“Such a doctrine,” said Scaurus, “is incompatible with the safety of the -state. A man who thinks he can be pardoned by another man of every -crime, is capable of committing any.” - -“And that, no doubt,” observed Fulvius, “is the cause of this new and -terrible edict against them. After what Calpurnius has told us about -these desperate men, nothing can be too severe against them.” - -Fulvius had been keenly eyeing Sebastian, who had entered during the -conversation; and now pointedly addressed him. - -“And you, no doubt, think so too, Sebastian; do you not?” - -“I think,” he calmly replied, “that if the Christians be such as -Calpurnius describes them, infamous sorcerers, they deserve to be -exterminated from the face of the earth. But even so, I would gladly -give them one chance of escape.” - -“And what is that?” sneeringly asked Fulvius. - -“That no one should be allowed to join in destroying them, who could not -prove himself freer from crime than they. I would have no one raise his -hand against them, who cannot show that he has never been an adulterer, -an extortioner, a deceiver, a drunkard, a bad husband, father, or child, -a profligate, or a thief. For with being any of these, no one charges -the poor Christians.”[144] - -Fulvius winced under the catalogue of vices, and still more under the -indignant, but serene, glance of Sebastian. But at the word “thief,” he -fairly leapt. Had the soldier seen him pick up the scarf in Fabius’s -house? Be it so or not, the dislike he had taken to Sebastian, at their -first meeting, had ripened into hatred at their second; and hatred in -that heart was only written in blood. He had only intensity now to add -to that feeling. - -Sebastian went out; and his thoughts got vent in familiar words of -prayer. “How long, O Lord! how long? What hopes can we entertain of the -conversion of many to the truth, still less of the conversion of this -great empire, so long as we find even honest and learned men believing -at once every calumny spoken against us; treasuring up, from age to age, -every fable and fiction about us; and refusing even to inquire into our -doctrines, because they have made up their minds that they are false and -contemptible?” - -He spoke aloud, believing himself alone, when a sweet voice answered him -at his side: “Good youth, whoever thou art that speakest thus, and -methinks I know thy voice, remember that the Son of God gave light to -the dark eye of the body, by spreading thereon clay; which, in man’s -hands, would have only blinded the seeing. Let us be as dust beneath His -feet, if we wish to become His means of enlightening the eyes of men’s -souls. Let us be trampled on a little longer in patience; perhaps even -from our ashes may come out the spark to blaze.” - -“Thank you, thank you, Cæcilia,” said Sebastian, “for your just and kind -rebuke. Whither tripping on so gaily on this first day of danger?” - -“Do you not know that I have been named guide of the cemetery of -Callistus? I am going to take possession. Pray, that I may be the first -flower of this coming spring.” - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - -And she passed on, singing blithely. But Sebastian begged her to stay -one moment. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -THE WOLF IN THE FOLD. - - -After the adventures of the night, our youths had not much time for -rest. Long before daybreak the Christians had to be up, and assemble at -their several titles, so as to disperse before day. It was to be their -last meeting there. The oratories were to be closed, and divine worship -had to begin, from that day, in the subterranean churches of the -cemeteries. It could not, indeed, be expected that all would be able to -travel with safety, even on the Sunday, some miles beyond the gate.[145] -A great privilege was, consequently, granted to the faithful, at such -times of trouble, that of preserving the blessed Eucharist in their -houses, and communicating themselves privately in the morning, “before -taking other food,” as Tertullian expresses it.[146] - -The faithful felt, not as sheep going to the slaughter, not as criminals -preparing for execution, but as soldiers arming for fight. Their -weapons, their food, their strength, their courage, were all to be found -in their Lord’s table. Even the lukewarm and the timid gathered fresh -spirit from the bread of life. In churches, as yet may be seen in the -cemeteries, were chairs placed for the penitentiaries, before whom the -sinner knelt, and confessed his sins, and received absolution. In -moments like this the penitential code was relaxed, and the terms of -public expiation shortened; and the whole night had been occupied by the -zealous clergy in preparing their flocks for, to many, their last public -communion on earth. - -We need not remind our readers that the office then performed was -essentially, and in many details, the same as they daily witness at the -Catholic altar. Not only was it considered, as now, to be the Sacrifice -of Our Lord’s Body and Blood, not only were the oblation, the -consecration, the communion alike, but many of the prayers were -identical; so that the Catholic hearing them recited, and still more the -priest reciting them, in the same language as the Roman Church of the -Catacombs spoke, may feel himself in active and living communion with -the martyrs who celebrated, and the martyrs who assisted at, those -sublime mysteries. - -On the occasion which we are describing, when the time came for giving -the kiss of peace--a genuine embrace of brotherly love--sobs could be -heard and bursts of tears; for it was to many a parting salutation. Many -a youth clung to his father’s neck, scarcely knowing whether that day -might not sever them, till they waved their palm-branches together in -heaven. And how would mothers press their daughters to their bosom, in -the fervor of that new love which fear of long separation enkindled! -Then came the communion, more solemn than usual, more devout, more -hushed to stillness. “The Body of Our Lord Jesus Christ,” said the -priest to each, as he offered him the sacred food. “Amen,” replied the -receiver, with thrilling accents of faith and love. Then extending in -his hand an _orarium_, or white linen cloth, he received in it a -provision of the Bread of Life, sufficient to last him till some future -feast. This was most carefully and - -[Illustration: The Blessed Eucharist, in the Early Ages of the -Church.] - -reverently folded, and laid in the bosom, wrapped up often in another -and more precious covering, or even placed in a gold locket.[147] It was -now that, for the first time, poor Syra regretted the loss of her rich -embroidered scarf, which would long before have been given to the poor, -had she not studiously reserved it for such an occasion, and such a use. -Nor had her mistress been able to prevail upon her to accept any objects -of value, without a stipulation that she might dispose of them as she -liked, that was in charitable gifts. - -The various assemblies had broken up before the discovery of the -violated edict. But they may rather be said to have adjourned to the -cemeteries. The frequent meetings of Torquatus with his two heathen -confederates in the baths of Caracalla had been narrowly watched by the -capsarius and his wife, as we have already remarked; and Victoria had -overheard the plot to make an inroad into the cemetery of Callistus on -the day after publication. The Christians, therefore, considered -themselves safer the first day, and took advantage of the circumstance -to inaugurate, by solemn offices, the churches of the catacombs, which, -after some years’ disuse, had been put into good repair and order by the -_fossores_, had been in some places repainted, and furnished with all -requisites for divine worship. - -But Corvinus, after getting over his first dismay, and having as -speedily as possible another, though not so grand, a copy of the edict -affixed, began better to see the dismal probabilities of serious -consequences from the wrath of his imperial master. The Dacian was -right: _he_ would have to answer for the loss. He felt it necessary to -do something that very day, which might wipe off the disgrace he had -incurred, before again meeting the emperor’s look. He determined to -anticipate the attack on the cemetery, intended for the following day. - -He repaired, therefore, while it was still early, to the baths, where -Fulvius, ever jealously watchful over Torquatus, kept him in expectation -of Corvinus’s coming to hold council with them. The worthy trio -concerted their plans. Corvinus, guided by the reluctant apostate, at -the head of a chosen band of soldiers who were at his disposal, had to -make an incursion into the cemetery of Callistus, and drive, or drag, -thence the clergy and principal Christians; while Fulvius, remaining -outside with another company, would intercept them and cut off all -retreat, securing the most important prizes, and especially the Pontiff -and superior clergy, whom his visit to the ordination would enable him -to recognize. This was his plan. “Let fools,” he said to himself, “act -the part of ferrets in the warren; I will be the sportsman outside.” - -In the meantime Victoria overheard sufficient to make her very busy -dusting and cleaning, in the retired room where they were consulting, -without appearing to listen. She told all to Cucumio; and he, after much -scratching of his head, hit upon a notable plan for conveying the -discovered information to the proper quarter. - -Sebastian, after his early attendance on divine worship, unable, from -his duties at the palace to do more, had proceeded, according to almost -universal custom, to the baths, to invigorate his limbs by their healthy -refreshment, and also to remove from himself the suspicion, which his -absence on that morning might have excited. While he was thus engaged, -the old _capsararius_, as he had had himself rattlingly called in his -ante-posthumous inscription, wrote on a slip of parchment all that his -wife had heard about the intention of an immediate assault, and of -getting possession of the holy Pontiff’s person. This he fastened with a -pin or needle to the inside of Sebastian’s tunic, of which he had -charge, as he durst not speak to him in the presence of others. - -The officer, after his bath, went into the hall where the events of the -morning were being discussed, and where Fulvius was waiting, till -Corvinus should tell him that all was ready. Upon going out, disgusted, -he felt himself, as he walked, pricked by something on his chest: he -examined his garments, and found the paper. It was written in about as -elegant a latinity as Cucumio’s epitaph, but he made it out sufficiently -to consider it necessary for him to turn his steps towards the Via -Appia, instead of the Palatine, and convey the important information to -the Christians assembled in the cemetery. - -Having, however, found a fleeter and surer messenger than himself, in -the poor blind girl, who would not attract the same attention, he -stopped her, gave her the note, after adding a few words to it, with the -pen and ink which he carried, and bade her bear it, as speedily as -possible, to its destination. But, in fact, he had hardly left the -baths, when Fulvius received information that Corvinus and his troop -were by that time hastening across the fields, so as to avoid suspicion, -towards the appointed spot. He mounted his horse immediately, and went -along the high-road; while the Christian soldier, in a by-way, was -instructing his blind messenger. - -When we accompanied Diogenes and his party through the catacombs, we -stopped short of the subterranean church, because Severus would not let -it be betrayed to Torquatus. In this the Christian congregation was now -assembled, under its chief pastor. It was constructed on the principle -common to all such excavations, for we can hardly call them edifices. - -The reader may imagine two of the _cubicula_ or chambers, which we have -before described, placed one on each side of a gallery or passage, so -that their doors, or rather wide entrances, are opposite one another. At -the end of one will be found an _arcosolium_ or altar-tomb: and the -probable conjecture is, that in this division the men, under charge of -the _ostiarii_,[148] and in the other the women, under the care of the -deaconesses, were assembled. This division of the sexes at divine -worship was a matter of jealous discipline in the early Church. - -[Illustration: Ruins of the basilica of St. Alexander, on the Nomentan -Way. From Roller’s “Catacombes de Rome.”] - -Often these subterranean churches were not devoid of architectural -decoration. The walls, especially near the altar, were plastered and -painted, and half columns, with their bases and capitals, not -ungracefully cut out of the sandstone, divided - -[Illustration: Confirmation, in the Early Ages of the Church.] - -the different parts or ornamented the entrances. In one instance, indeed -in the chief basilica yet discovered in the cemetery of Callistus, there -is a chamber without any altar, communicating with the church by means -of a funnel-shaped opening, piercing the earthen wall, here some twelve -feet thick, and entering the chamber, which is at a lower level, at the -height of five or six feet, in a slanting direction; so that all that -was spoken in the church could be heard, yet nothing that was done there -could be seen, by those assembled in the chamber. This is very naturally -supposed to have been the place reserved for the class of public -penitents called _audientes_ or hearers, and for the catechumens, not -yet initiated by baptism. - -[Illustration: PLAN OF SUBTERRANEAN CHURCH IN THE CEMETERY OF ST. AGNES. - -A. Choir, or chancel, with episcopal chair (_a_) and benches for the -clergy (_b b_). - -B. Division for the men, separated from the choir by two pillars, -supporting an arch. - -C. Corridor of the catacomb, affording entrance to the church. - -D. Division for the women, with a tomb in it. - -Each portion is subdivided by projections in the wall.] - -The basilica, in which the Christians were assembled, when Sebastian -sent his message, was like the one discovered in the cemetery of St. -Agnes. Each of the two divisions was double, that is, consisted of two -large chambers, slightly separated by half-columns, in what we may call -the women’s church, and by flat pilasters in the men’s, one of these -surfaces having in it a small niche for an image or lamp. But the most -remarkable feature of this basilica is a further prolongation of the -structure, so as to give it a chancel or presbytery. This is about the -size of half each other division, from which it is separated by two -columns against the wall, as well as by its lesser height, after the -manner of modern chancels. For while each portion of each division has -first a lofty-arched tomb in its wall, and four or five tiers of graves -above it, the elevation of the chancel is not much greater than that of -those _arcosolia_ or altar-tombs. At the end of the chancel, against the -middle of the wall, is a chair with back and arms cut out of the solid -stone, and from each side proceeds a stone bench, which thus occupies -the end and two sides of the chancel. As the table of the arched-tomb -behind the chair is higher than the back of the throne, and as this is -immovable, it is clear that the divine mysteries could not have been -celebrated upon it. A portable altar must, therefore, have been placed -before the throne, in an isolated position in the middle of the -sanctuary: and this, tradition tell us, was the wooden altar of St. -Peter. - -[Illustration: A _Cathedra_ or Episcopal Chair in the Catacomb of Saint -Agnes.] - -We have thus the exact arrangements to be found in the churches built -after the peace, and yet to be seen in all the ancient basilicas in -Rome--the episcopal chair in the centre of the apse, the presbytery or -seat for the clergy on either hand, and the altar between the throne and -the people. The early Christians thus anticipated underground, or rather -gave the principles which directed, the forms of ecclesiastical -architecture. - -It was in such a basilica, then, that we are to imagine the faithful -assembled, when Corvinus and his satellites arrived at the entrance of -the cemetery. This was the way which Torquatus knew, leading down by -steps from a half-ruinous building, choked up with faggots. They found -the coast clear, and immediately made their arrangements. Fulvius, with -one body of ten or twelve men, lurked to guard the entrance, and seize -all who attempted to come out or go in. Corvinus, with Torquatus and a -smaller body of eight, prepared to descend. - -“I don’t like this underground work,” said an old, grey-bearded -legionary. “I am a soldier, and not a rat-catcher. Bring me my man into -the light of day, and I will fight him hand to hand, and foot to foot; -but I have no love for being stifled or poisoned, like vermin in a -drain.” - -This speech found favor with the soldiers. One said, “There may be -hundreds of these skulking Christians down there, and we are little more -than half a dozen.” - -“This is not the sort of work we receive our pay for,” added another. - -“It’s their sorceries I care for,” continued a third, “and not their -valor.” - -It required all the eloquence of Fulvius to screw up their resolution. -He assured them there was nothing to fear; that the cowardly Christians -would run before them like hares, and that they would find more gold and -silver in the church than a year’s pay would give them. Thus encouraged, -they went groping down to the bottom of the stairs. They could -distinguish lamps at intervals, stretching into the gloomy length before -them. - -“Hush!” said one, “listen to that voice!” - -[Illustration: An Altar with its Episcopal Chair, in the Cemetery of -Saint Agnes.] - -From far away its accents came, softened by distance, but they were the -notes of a fresh youthful voice, that quailed not with fear; so clear, -that the very words could be caught, as it intoned the following verses: - -“Dominus illuminatio mea, et salus mea; quem timebo? - -[Illustration: An Attack in the Catacombs.] - -“Dominus protector vitæ meæ; a quo trepidabo?”[149] - -Then came a full chorus of voices, singing, like the sound of many -waters: - -“Dum appropriant super me nocentes, ut edant carnes meas; qui tribulant -me, inimici mei, ipsi infirmati sunt et ceciderunt.”[150] - -A mixture of shame and anger seized on the assailants as they heard -these words of calm confidence and defiance. The single voice again sang -forth, but in apparently fainter accents: - -“Si consistant adversum me castra, non timebit cor meum.”[151] - -“I thought I knew that voice,” muttered Corvinus. “I ought to know it -out of a thousand. It is that of my bane, the cause of all last night’s -curse and this day’s trouble. It is that of Pancratius, who pulled down -the edict. On, on, my men; any reward for him, dead or alive!” - -“But, stop,” said one, “let us light our torches.” - -“Hark!” said a second, while they were engaged in this operation; “what -is that strange noise, as if of scratching and hammering at a distance? -I have heard it for some time.” - -“And, look!” added a third; “the distant lights have disappeared, and -the music has ceased. We are certainly discovered.” - -“No danger,” said Torquatus, putting on a boldness which he did not -feel. “That noise only comes from those old moles, Diogenes and his -sons, busy preparing graves for the Christians we shall seize.” - -[Illustration: An Altar in the Cemetery of St. Sixtus.] - -Torquatus had in vain advised the troop not to bring torches, but to -provide themselves with such lamps as we see Diogenes represented -carrying, in his picture, or waxen tapers, which he had brought for -himself; but the men swore they would not go down without plenty of -light, and such means for it as could not be put out by a draught of -wind, or a stroke on the arm. The effects were soon obvious. As they -advanced, silently and cautiously, along the low narrow gallery, the -resinous torches crackled and hissed with a fierce glare, which heated -and annoyed them; while a volume of thick pitchy smoke from each rolled -downwards on to the bearers from the roof, half stifled them, and made a -dense atmosphere of cloud around themselves, which effectually dimmed -their light. Torquatus kept at the head of the party, counting every -turning right and left, as he had noted them; though he found every -mark which he had made carefully removed. He was staggered and baulked, -when, after having counted little more than half the proper number, he -found the road completely blocked up. - -The fact was, that keener eyes than he was aware of had been on the -look-out. Severus had never relaxed his watchfulness, determined not to -be surprised. He was near the entrance to the cemetery below, when the -soldiers reached it above; and he ran forward at once to the place where -the sand had been prepared for closing the road; near which his brother -and several other stout workmen were stationed, in case of danger. In a -moment, with that silence and rapidity to which they were trained, they -set to work lustily, shovelling the sand across the narrow and low -corridor from each side, while well-directed blows of the pick brought -from the low roof behind, huge flakes of sandstone, which closed up the -opening. Behind this barrier they stood, hardly suppressing a laugh as -they heard their enemies through its loose separation. Their work it was -which had been heard, and which had screened off the lights, and -deadened the song. - -Torquatus’s perplexity was not diminished by the volley of oaths and -imprecations, and the threats of violence which were showered upon him, -for a fool or a traitor. “Stay one moment, I entreat you,” he said. “It -is possible I have mistaken my reckoning. I know the right turn by a -remarkable tomb a few yards within it; I will just step into one or two -of the last corridors, and see.” - -With these words, he ran back to the next gallery on the left, advanced -a few paces, and totally disappeared. - -Though his companions had followed him to the very mouth of the gallery, -they could not see how this happened. It appeared like witchcraft, in -which they were quite ready to believe. His light and himself seemed to -have vanished at once. “We will have no more of this work,” they said; -“either Torquatus is a traitor, or he has been carried off by magic.” -Worried, heated in the close atmosphere, almost inflamed by their -lights, begrimed, blinded, and choked by the pitchy smoke, crest-fallen -and disheartened, they turned back; and since their road led straight to -the entrance, they flung away their blazing torches into the side -galleries, one here and one there, as they passed by, to get rid of -them. When they looked back, it seemed as if a triumphal illumination -was kindling up the very atmosphere of the gloomy corridor. From the -mouths of the various caverns came forth a fiery light which turned the -dull sandstone into a bright crimson; while the volumes of smoke above, -hung like amber clouds along the whole gallery. The sealed tombs, -receiving the unusual reflection on their yellow tiles, or marble slabs, -appeared covered with golden or silver plates, set in the red damask of -the walls. It looked like a homage paid to martyrdom, by the very furies -of heathenism, on the first day of persecution. The torches which they -had kindled to destroy, only served to shed brightness on monuments of -that virtue which had never failed to save the Church. - -But before these foiled hounds with drooping heads had reached the -entrance, they recoiled before the sight of a singular apparition. At -first they thought they had caught a glimpse of daylight; but they soon -perceived it was the glimmering of a lamp. This was held steadily by an -upright, immovable figure, which thus received its light upon itself. It -was clothed in a dark dress, so as to resemble one of those bronze -statues, which have the head and extremities of white marble, and -startle one, when first seen; so like are they to living forms. - -“Who can it be? What is it?” the men whispered to one another. - -“A sorceress,” replied one. - -“The _genius loci_,”[152] observed another. - -“A spirit,” suggested a third. - -Still, as they approached stealthily towards it, it did not appear -conscious of their presence: “there was no speculation in its eyes;” it -remained unmoved and unscared. At length, two got sufficiently near to -seize the figure by its arms. - -“Who are you?” asked Corvinus, in a rage. - -“A Christian,” answered Cæcilia, with her usual cheerful gentleness. - -[Illustration: The Cure of the Man born Blind, from a picture in the -Catacombs.] - -“Bring her along,” he commanded; “some one at least shall pay for our -disappointment.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE FIRST FLOWER. - - -Cæcilia, already forewarned, had approached the cemetery by a different, -but neighboring entrance. No sooner had she descended than she snuffed -the strong odor of the torches. “This is none of _our_ incense, I know,” -she said to herself; “the enemy is already within.” She hastened -therefore to the place of assembly and delivered Sebastian’s note; -adding also what she had observed. It warned them to disperse and seek -the shelter of the inner and lower galleries; and begged of the Pontiff -not to leave till he should send for him, as his person was particularly -sought for. - -Pancratius urged the blind messenger to save herself too. “No,” she -replied, “my office is to watch the door, and guide the faithful safe.” - -“But the enemy may seize you.” - -“No matter,” she answered, laughing; “my being taken may save much -worthier lives. Give me a lamp, Pancratius.” - -“Why, you cannot see by it,” observed he, smiling. - -“True, but others can.” - -“They may be your enemies.” - -“Even so,” she answered, “I do not wish to be taken in the dark. If my -Bridegroom come to me in the night of this cemetery, must He not find -me with my lamp trimmed?” - -Off she started, reached her post, and hearing no noise except that of -quiet footsteps, she thought they were those of friends, and held up her -lamp to guide them. - -When the party came forth, with their only captive, Fulvius was -perfectly furious. It was worse than a total failure: it was -ridiculous--a poor mouse come out of the bowels of the earth. He rallied -Corvinus till the wretch winced and foamed; then suddenly he asked, “And -where is Torquatus?” He heard the account of his sudden disappearance, -told in as many ways as the Dacian guard’s adventure: but it annoyed him -greatly. He had no doubt whatever, in his own mind, that he had been -duped by his supposed victim, who had escaped into the unsearchable -mazes of the cemetery. If so, this captive would know, and he determined -to question her. He stood before her, therefore, put on his most -searching and awful look, and said to her sternly, “Look at me, woman, -and tell me the truth.” - -“I must tell you the truth without looking at you, sir,” answered the -poor girl, with her cheerfullest smile and softest voice; “do you not -see that I am blind?” - -“Blind!” all exclaimed at once, as they crowded to look at her. But over -the features of Fulvius there passed the slightest possible emotion, -just as much as the wave that runs, pursued by a playful breeze, over -the ripe meadow. A knowledge had flashed into his mind, a clue had -fallen into his hand. - -“It will be ridiculous,” he said, “for twenty soldiers to march through -the city, guarding a blind girl. Return to your quarters, and I will see -you are well rewarded. You, Corvinus, take my horse, and go before to -your father, and tell him all, I will follow in a carriage with the -captive.” - -“No treachery, Fulvius,” he said, vexed and mortified. “Mind you bring -her. The day must not pass without a sacrifice.” - -“Do not fear,” was the reply. - -Fulvius, indeed, was pondering whether, having lost one spy, he should -not try to make another. But the placid gentleness of the poor beggar -perplexed him more than the boisterous zeal of the gamester, and her -sightless orbs defied him more than the restless roll of the toper’s. -Still, the first thought that had struck him he could yet pursue. When -alone in a carriage with her, he assumed a soothing tone, and addressed -her. He knew she had not overheard the last dialogue. - -“My poor girl,” he said, “how long have you been blind?” - -“All my life,” she replied. - -“What is your history? Whence do you come?” - -“I have no history. My parents were poor, and brought me to Rome when I -was four years old, as they came to pray, in discharge of a vow made for -my life in early sickness, to the blessed martyrs Chrysanthus and Daria. -They left me in charge of a pious lame woman, at the door of the title -of Fasciola, while they went to their devotions. It was on that -memorable day, when many Christians were buried at their tomb, by earth -and stones cast down upon them. My parents had the happiness to be of -the number.” - -“And how have you lived since?” - -“God became my only Father then, and His Catholic Church my mother. The -one feeds the birds of the air, the other nurses the weaklings of the -flock. I have never wanted for any thing since.” - -“But you can walk about the streets freely, and without fear, as well as -if you saw.” - -“How do you know that?” - -“I have seen you. Do you remember very early one morning in the autumn, -leading a poor lame man along the Vicus Patricius?” - -She blushed and remained silent. Could he have seen her put into the -poor old man’s purse her own share of the alms? - -“You have owned yourself a Christian?” he asked negligently. - -“Oh, yes! how could I deny it?” - -“Then that meeting was a Christian meeting?” - -“Certainly; what else could it be?” - -He wanted no more; his suspicions were verified. Agnes, about whom -Torquatus had been able or willing to tell him nothing, was certainly a -Christian. His game was made. She must yield, or he would be avenged. - -After a pause, looking at her steadfastly, he said, “Do you know whither -you are going?” - -“Before the judge of earth, I suppose, who will send me to my Spouse in -heaven.” - -“And so calmly?” he asked in surprise; for he could see no token from -the soul to the countenance, but a smile. - -“So joyfully rather,” was her brief reply. - -Having got all that he desired, he consigned his prisoner to Corvinus at -the gates of the Æmilian basilica, and left her to her fate. It had been -a cold and drizzling day like the preceding evening. The weather, and -the incident of the night, had kept down all enthusiasm; and while the -prefect had been compelled to sit in-doors, where no great crowd could -collect, as hours had passed away without any arrest, trial, or tidings, -most of the curious had left, and only a few more persevering remained, -past the hour of afternoon recreation in the public gardens. But just -before the captive arrived, a fresh knot of spectators came in, and -stood near one of the side-doors, from which they could see all. - -As Corvinus had prepared his father for what he was to expect, -Tertullus, moved with some compassion, and imagining there could be -little difficulty in overcoming the obstinacy of a poor, ignorant, blind -beggar, requested the spectators to remain perfectly still, that he -might try his persuasion on her, alone, as she would imagine, with him; -and he threatened heavy penalties on any one who should presume to break -the silence. - -It was as he had calculated. Cæcilia knew not that any one else was -there, as the prefect thus kindly addressed her: - -“What is thy name, child?” - -“Cæcilia.” - -“It is a noble name; hast thou it from thy family?” - -“No; I am not noble; except because my parents, though poor, died for -Christ. As I am blind, those who took care of me called me _Cæca_,[153] -and then, out of kindness, softened it into Cæcilia.” - -“But now, give up all this folly of the Christians, who have kept thee -only poor and blind. Honor the decrees of the divine emperors, and offer -sacrifice to the gods; and thou shalt have riches, and fine clothes, and -good fare; and the best physicians shall try to restore thee thy sight.” - -“You must have better motives to propose to me than these; for the very -things for which I most thank God and His Divine Son, are those which -you would have me put away.” - -“How dost thou mean?” - -“I thank God that I am poor and meanly clad, and fare not daintily; -because by all these things I am the more like Jesus Christ, my only -Spouse.” - -“Foolish girl!” interrupted the judge, losing patience a little; “hast -thou learnt all these silly delusions already? at least thou canst not -thank thy God that He has made thee sightless.” - -“For that, more than all the rest, I thank Him daily and hourly with all -my heart.” - -“How so? dost thou think it a blessing never to have seen the face of a -human being, or the sun, or the earth? What strange fancies are these?” - -“They are not so, most noble sir. For in the midst of what you call -darkness, I see a spot of what I must call light, it contrasts so -strongly with all around. It is to me what the sun is to you, which I -know to be local from the varying direction of its rays. And this object -looks upon me as with a countenance of intensest beauty, and smiles upon -me ever. And I know it to be that of Him whom I love with undivided -affection. I would not for the world have its splendor dimmed by a -brighter sun, nor its wondrous loveliness confounded with the -diversities of others’ features, nor my gaze on it drawn aside by -earthly visions. I love Him too much not to wish to see Him always -alone.” - -“Come, come! let me have no more of this silly prattle. Obey the -emperors at once, or I must try what a little pain will do. That will -soon tame thee.” - -“Pain?” she echoed innocently. - -“Yes, pain. Hast thou never felt it? hast thou never been hurt by any -one in thy life?” - -“Oh, no! Christians never hurt one another.” - -The rack was standing, as usual, before him; and he made a sign to -Catulus to place her upon it. The executioner pushed her back on it by -her arms; and as she made no resistance, she was easily laid extended on -its wooden couch. The loops of the ever-ready ropes were in a moment -passed round her ankles, and arms drawn over the head. The poor -sightless girl saw not who did all this; she knew not but it might be -the same person who had been conversing with her. If there had been -silence hitherto, men now held their very breath; while Cæcilia’s lips -moved in earnest prayer. - -“Once more, before proceeding further, I call on thee to sacrifice to -the gods, and escape cruel torments,” said the judge, with a sterner -voice. - -“Neither torments nor death,” firmly replied the victim tied to the -altar, “shall separate me from the love of Christ. I can offer up no -sacrifice but to the one living God: and its ready oblation is myself.” - -The prefect made a signal to the executioner, and he gave one rapid -whirl to the two wheels of the rack, round the windlasses of which the -ropes were wound; and the limbs of the maiden were stretched with a -sudden jerk, which, though not enough to wrench them from their sockets, -as a further turn would have done, sufficed to inflict an excruciating, -or more truly, a _racking_ pain, through all her frame. Far more -grievous was this, from the preparation and the cause of it being -unseen, and from that additional suffering which darkness inflicts. A -quivering of her features and a sudden paleness alone gave evidence of -her torture. - -“Ha! ha!” the judge exclaimed, “thou feelest that? Come, let it suffice; -obey, and thou shalt be freed.” - -She seemed to take no heed of his words, but gave vent to her feelings -in prayer: “I thank Thee, O Lord Jesus Christ, that Thou hast made me -suffer pain the first time for Thy sake. I have loved Thee in peace; I -have loved Thee in comfort; I have loved Thee in joy,--and now in pain I -love Thee still more. How much sweeter it is to be like Thee, stretched -upon Thy Cross, even than resting upon the hard couch at the poor man’s -table!” - -“Thou triflest with me,” exclaimed the judge, thoroughly vexed, “and -makest light of my lenity. We will try something stronger. Here, -Catulus, apply a lighted torch to her sides.”[154] - -[Illustration: The Martyr Cæcilia.] - -A thrill of disgust and horror ran through the assembly, which could not -help sympathizing with the poor blind creature. A murmur of suppressed -indignation broke out from all sides of the hall. - -Cæcilia, for the first time, learnt that she was in the midst of a -crowd. A crimson glow of modesty rushed into her brow, her face, and -neck, just before white as marble. The angry judge checked the rising -gush of feeling; and all listened in silence, as she spoke again, with -warmer earnestness than before: - -“O my dear Lord and Spouse! I have been ever true and faithful to Thee! -Let me suffer pain and torture for Thee; but spare me confusion from -human eyes. Let me come to Thee at once; not covering my face with my -hands in shame when I stand before Thee.” - -Another muttering of compassion was heard. - -“Catulus!” shouted the baffled judge in fury; “do your duty, sirrah! -what are you about, fumbling all day with that torch?” - -The executioner advanced, and stretched forth his hand to her robe, to -withdraw it for the torture; but he drew back, and, turning to the -prefect, exclaimed in softened accents: - -“It is too late. She is dead!” - -“Dead!” cried out Tertullus; “dead with one turn of the wheel? -impossible!” - -Catulus gave the rack a turn backwards, and the body remained -motionless. It was true; she had passed from the rack to the throne, -from the scowl of the judge’s countenance to her Spouse’s welcoming -embrace. Had she breathed out her pure soul, as a sweet perfume, in the -incense of her prayer? or had her heart been unable to get back its -blood, from the intensity of that first virginal blush?[155] - -In the stillness of awe and wonder, a clear bold voice cried out, from -the group near the door: “Impious tyrant, dost thou not see, that a poor -blind Christian hath more power over life and death, than thou or thy -cruel masters?” - -“What! a third time in twenty-four hours wilt thou dare to cross my -path? This time thou shalt not escape.” - -These were Corvinus’s words, garnished with a furious imprecation, as he -rushed from his father’s side round the enclosure before the tribunal, -towards the group. But as he ran blindly on, he struck against an -officer of herculean build, who, no doubt quite accidentally, was -advancing from it. He reeled, and the soldier caught hold of him, -saying: - -“You are not hurt, I hope, Corvinus?” - -“No, no; let me go, Quadratus, let me go.” - -“Where are you running to in such a hurry? can I help you?” asked his -captor, still holding him fast. - -“Let me loose, I say, or he will be gone.” - -“Who will be gone?” - -“Pancratius,” answered Corvinus, “who just now insulted my father.” - -“Pancratius!” said Quadratus, looking round, and seeing that he had got -clear off; “I do not see him.” And he let him go; but it was too late. -The youth was safe at Diogenes’s, in the Suburra. - -While this scene was going on, the prefect, mortified, ordered Catulus -to see the body thrown into the Tiber. But another officer, muffled in -his cloak, stepped aside and beckoned to Catulus, who understood the -sign, and stretched out his hand to receive a purse held out to him. - -“Out of the Porta Capena, at Lucina’s villa, an hour after sunset,” said -Sebastian. - -“It shall be delivered there safe,” said the executioner. - -“Of what do you think did that poor girl die?” asked a spectator from -his companion, as they went out. - -“Of fright, I fancy,” he replied. - -[Illustration: The Woman of Samaria, from a picture in the Cemetery of -St. Domitilla.] - -“Of Christian modesty,” interposed a stranger who passed them. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -RETRIBUTION. - - -The prefect of the city went to give his report on the untoward events -of the day, and do what was possible to screen his worthless son. He -found the emperor in the worst of moods. Had Corvinus come in his way -early in the day, nobody could have answered for his head. And now the -result of the inroad into the cemetery had revived his anger, when -Tertullus entered into the audience-chamber. Sebastian contrived to be -on guard. - -“Where is your booby of a son?” was the first salutation which the -prefect received. - -“Humbly waiting your divinity’s pleasure outside, and anxious to -propitiate your godlike anger, for the tricks which fortune has played -upon his zeal.” - -“Fortune!” exclaimed the tyrant; “fortune indeed! His own stupidity and -cowardice: a pretty beginning, forsooth; but he shall smart for it. -Bring him in.” - -The wretch, whining and trembling, was introduced; and cast himself at -the emperor’s feet, from which he was spurned, and sent rolling, like a -lashed hound, into the midst of the hall. This set the imperial divinity -a-laughing, and helped to mollify its wrath. - -“Come, sirrah! stand up,” he said, “and let me hear an account of -yourself. How did the edict disappear?” - -Corvinus told a rambling tale, which occasionally amused the emperor; -for he was rather taken with the trick. This was a good symptom. - -“Well,” he said at last, “I will be merciful to you. Lictors, bind your -fasces.” They drew their axes forth, and felt their edges. Corvinus -again threw himself down, and exclaimed: - -“Spare my life; I have important information to furnish, if I live.” - -“Who wants your worthless life?” responded the gentle Maximian. -“Lictors, put aside your axes; the rods are good enough for him.” - -In a moment his hands were seized and bound, his tunic was stripped off -his shoulders, and a shower of blows fell upon them, delivered with -well-regulated skill, till he roared and writhed, to the great enjoyment -of his imperial master. - -Smarting and humbled, he had to stand again before him. - -“Now, sir,” said the latter, “what is the wonderful information you have -to give?” - -“That I know who perpetrated the outrage of last night, on your imperial -edict.” - -“Who was it?” - -“A youth named Pancratius, whose knife I found under where the edict had -been cut away.” - -“And why have you not seized him and brought him to justice?” - -“Twice this day he has been almost within my grasp, for I have heard his -voice; but he has escaped me.” - -“Then let him not escape a third time, or you may have to take his -place. But how do you know him, or his knife?” - -“He was my school-fellow at the school of Cassianus, who turned out to -be a Christian.” - -“A Christian presume to teach my subjects, to make them enemies of their -country, disloyal to their sovereigns, and contemners of the gods! I -suppose it was he who taught that young viper Pancratius to pull down -our imperial edict. Do you know where he is?” - -“Yes, sire; Torquatus, who has abandoned the Christian superstition, has -told me.” - -“And pray who is this Torquatus?” - -“He is one who has been staying some time with Chromatius and a party of -Christians in the country.” - -“Why, this is worse and worse. Is the ex-prefect then, too, become a -Christian?” - -“Yes, and lives with many others of that sect in Campania.” - -“What perfidy! what treachery! I shall not know whom to trust next. -Prefect, send some one immediately to arrest all these men, and the -school-master, and Torquatus.” - -“He is no longer a Christian,” interposed the judge. - -“Well, what do I care?” replied the emperor peevishly; “arrest as many -as you can, and spare no one, and make them smart well; do you -understand me? Now begone, all; it is time for my supper.” - -Corvinus went home; and, in spite of medicinal applications, was -feverish, sore, and spiteful all night; and next morning begged his -father to let him go on the expedition into Campania, that so he might -retrieve his honor, gratify his revenge, and escape the disgrace and -sarcasm that was sure to be heaped on him by Roman society. - -When Fulvius had deposited his prisoner at the tribunal, he hastened -home to recount his adventures, as usual, to Eurotas. The old man -listened with imperturbable sternness to the barren recital, and at last -said, coldly: - -“Very little profit from all this, Fulvius.” - -“No immediate profit, indeed; but a good prospect in view, at least.” - -“How so?” - -“Why, the Lady Agnes is in my power. I have made sure, at last, that -she is a Christian. I can now necessarily either win her or destroy her. -In either case her property is mine.” - -“Take the second alternative,” said the old man, with a keen glow in his -eye, but no change of face; “it is the shorter, and less troublesome, -way.” - -“But my honor is engaged; I cannot allow myself to be spurned in the -manner I told you.” - -“You _have_ been spurned, however; and that calls for vengeance. You -have no time to lose, remember, in foolery. Your funds are nearly -exhausted, and nothing is coming in. You _must_ strike a blow.” - -“Surely, Eurotas, you would prefer my trying to get this wealth by -honorable,” (Eurotas smiled at the idea coming into either of their -minds) “rather than by foul, means.” - -“Get it, get it any way, provided it be the surest and the speediest. -You know our compact. Either the family is restored to wealth and -splendor, or it ends in and with you. It shall never linger on in -disgrace, that is, in poverty.” - -“I know, I know, without your every day reminding me of the bitter -condition,” said Fulvius, wringing his hands, and writhing in all his -body. “Give me time enough, and all will be well.” - -“I give you time, till all is hopeless. Things do not look bright at -present. But, Fulvius, it is time that I tell you who I am.” - -“Why, were you not my father’s faithful dependant, to whose care he -intrusted me?” - -“I was your father’s elder brother, Fulvius, and am the head of the -family. I have had but one thought, but one aim in life, the restoring -of our house to that greatness and splendor, from which my father’s -negligence and prodigality had brought it down. Thinking that your -father, my brother, had greater ability than myself for this work, I -resigned my rights and gains to him upon certain terms; one of which -was your guardianship, and the exclusive forming of your mind. You know -how I have trained you, to care nothing about the means, so that our -great ends be carried.” - -Fulvius, who had been riveted with amazement and deep attention on the -speaker, shrunk into himself with shame, at this baring of both their -hearts. The dark old man fixed his eyes more intently than ever, and -went on: - -“You remember the black and complicated crime by which we concentrated -in your hands the divided remnant of family wealth.” - -Fulvius covered his face with his hands and shuddered, then said -entreatingly, “Oh, spare me that, Eurotas; for heaven’s sake spare me!” - -“Well, then,” resumed the other, unmoved as ever, “I will be brief. -Remember, nephew, that he who does not recoil from a brilliant future, -to be gained by guilt, must not shrink from a past that prepared it by -crime. For the future will one day be the past. Let our compact, -therefore, be straightforward and honest, for there is an honesty even -in sin. Nature has given you abundance of selfishness and cunning, and -she has given me boldness and remorselessness in directing and applying -them. Our lot is cast by the same throw,--we become rich, or die, -together.” - -Fulvius, in his heart, cursed the day that he came to Rome, or bound -himself to his stern master, whose mysterious tie was so much stronger -than he had known before. But he felt himself spell-bound to him, and -powerless as the kid in the lion’s paws. He retired to his couch with a -heavier heart than ever; for a dark, impending fate never failed to -weigh upon his soul every returning night. - -The reader will perhaps be curious to know what has become of the third -member of our worthy trio, the apostate Torquatus. When, confused and -bewildered, he ran to look for the tomb which was to guide him, it so -happened, that, just within the gallery which he entered, was a -neglected staircase, cut in the sandstone, down to a lower story of the -cemetery. The steps had been worn round and smooth, and the descent was -precipitous. Torquatus, carrying his light before him, and running -heedlessly, fell headlong down the opening, and remained stunned and -insensible at the bottom, till long after his companions had retired. He -then revived, and for some time was so confused that he knew not where -he was. He arose and groped about, till, consciousness completely -returning, he remembered that he was in a catacomb, but could not make -out how he was alone and in the dark. It then struck him that he had a -supply of tapers about him, and means of lighting them. He employed -these, and was cheered by finding himself again in light. But he had -wandered from the staircase, of which, indeed, he recollected nothing, -and went on, and on, entangling himself more inextricably in the -subterranean labyrinth. - -He felt sure that, before he had exhausted his strength or his tapers, -he should come to some outlet. But by degrees he began to feel serious -alarm. One after the other his lights were burnt out, and his vigor -began to fail, for he had been fasting from early morning; and he found -himself coming back to the same spot, after he had wandered about -apparently for hours. At first he had looked negligently around him, and -had carelessly read the inscriptions on the tombs. But as he grew -fainter, and his hope of relief weaker, these solemn monuments of death -began to speak to his soul, in a language that it could not refuse to -hear, nor pretend to misunderstand. “Deposited in peace,” was the inmate -of one; “resting in Christ” was another; and even the thousand nameless -ones around them reposed in silent calm, each with the seal of the -Church’s motherly care stamped upon his place of rest. And within, the -embalmed remains awaited the sound of angelic trumpet-notes, to awaken -them to a happy resurrection. And he, in a few more hours, would be dead -like them; he was lighting his last taper, and had sunk down upon a heap -of mould; but would he be laid in peace, by pious hands, as they? On the -cold ground, alone, he should die, unpitied, unmourned, unknown. There -he should rot, and drop to pieces; and if, in after years, his bones, -cast out from Christian sepulture, should be found, tradition might -conjecture that they were the accursed remains of an apostate lost in -the cemetery. And even they might be cast out, as he was, from the -communion of that hallowed ground. - -It was coming on fast; he could feel it; his head reeled, his heart -fluttered. The taper was getting too short for his fingers, and he -placed it on a stone beside him. It might burn three minutes longer; but -a drop filtering through the ceiling, fell upon it, and extinguished it. -So covetous did he feel of those three minutes more of light, so jealous -was he of that little taper-end, as his last link with earth’s joys, so -anxious was he to have one more look at things without, lest he should -be forced to look at those within, that he drew forth his flint and -steel, and labored for a quarter of an hour to get a light from tinder, -damped by the cold perspiration on his body. And when he had lighted his -remnant of candle, instead of profiting by its flame to look around him, -he fixed his eyes upon it with an idiotic stare, watching it burn down, -as though it were the charm which bound his life, and this must expire -with it. And soon the last spark gleamed smouldering like a glow-worm, -on the red earth, and died. - -Was he dead too? he thought. Why not? Darkness, complete and perpetual, -had come upon him. He was cut off for ever from consort with the living, -his mouth would no more taste food, his ears never again hear a sound, -his eyes behold no light, or thing, again. He was associated with the -dead, only his grave was much larger than theirs; but, for all that, it -was as dark and lonely, and closed for ever. What else is death? - -No, it could not be death as yet. Death had to be followed by something -else. But even this was coming. The worm was beginning to gnaw his -conscience, and it grew apace to a viper’s length, and twisted itself -round his heart. He tried to think of pleasant things, and they came -before him; the quiet hours in the villa with Chromatius and Polycarp, -their kind words, and last embrace. But from the beautiful vision darted -a withering flash; he had betrayed them; he had told of them; to whom? -To Fulvius and Corvinus. The fatal chord was touched, like the tingling -nerve of a tooth, that darts its agony straight to the centre of the -brain. The drunken debauch, the dishonest play, the base hypocrisy, the -vile treachery, the insincere apostasy, the remorseful sacrileges, of -the last days, and the murderous attempt of that morning, now came -dancing, like demons hand in hand, in the dark before him, shouting, -laughing, jibing, weeping, moaning, gnashing their teeth; and sparks of -fire flying before his eyes, from his enfeebled brain, seemed to dart -from glaring torches in their hands. He sunk down and covered his eyes. - -“I may be dead, after all,” he said to himself; “for the infernal pit -can have nothing worse than this.” - -His heart was too weak for rage; it sunk within him in the impotence of -despair. His strength was ebbing fast, when he fancied he heard a -distant sound. He put away the thought; but the wave of a remote harmony -beat again upon his ear. He raised himself up; it was becoming distinct. -So sweet it sounded, so like a chorus of angelic voices, but in another -sphere, that he said to himself: “Who would have thought that Heaven was -so near to hell! Or are they accompanying the fearful Judge to try me?” - -And now a faint glimmer of light appeared at the same distance as the -sounds; and the words of the strain were clearly heard: - -“In pace, in idipsum, dormiam et requiescam.”[156] - -“Those words are not for me. They might do at a martyr’s entombment; -they cannot at a reprobate’s burial.” - -The light increased; it was like a dawn glowing into day; it entered the -gallery and passed across it, bearing in it, as in a mirror, a vision -too distinct to be unreal. First, there came virgins robed and holding -lamps; then four who carried between them a form wrapped up in a white -linen cloth, with a crown of thorns upon the head; after them the -youthful acolyte Tarcisius bearing a censer steaming with perfumed -smoke; and, after others of the clergy, the venerable Pontiff himself, -attended by Reparatus, and another deacon. Diogenes and his sons, with -sorrowful countenances, and many others, among whom he could distinguish -Sebastian, closed the procession. As many bore lamps or tapers, the -figures seemed to move in an unchanging atmosphere of mildest light. - -And as they passed before him, they chanted the next verse of the psalm: - -“Quoniam Tu Domine singulariter in spe constituisti me.”[157] - -“_That_,” he exclaimed, rousing himself up, “_that_ is for me.” - -With this thought he had sprung upon his knees; and by an instinct of -grace words which he had before heard came back to him like an echo; -words suited to the moment; words which he felt that he _must_ speak. He -crept forward, faint and feeble, turned along the gallery through which -the funeral procession was passing, and followed it, unobserved, at a -distance. It entered a chamber and lighted it up, so that a picture - -[Illustration: The Martyr’s Burial.] - -of the Good Shepherd looked brightly down on him. But he would not pass -the threshold, where he stood striking his breast and praying for mercy. - -The body had been laid upon the ground, and other psalms and hymns were -sung, and prayers recited, all in that cheerful tone and joyous mood of -hopefulness, with which the Church has always treated of death. At -length it was placed in the tomb prepared for it, under an arch. While -this was being done, Torquatus drew nigh to one of the spectators, and -whispered to him the question: - -“Whose funeral is this?” - -“It is the _deposition_,” he answered, “of the blessed Cæcilia, a blind -virgin, who this morning fell into the hands of the soldiers, in this -cemetery, and whose soul God took to Himself.” - -“Then I am her murderer,” he exclaimed, with a hollow moan; and -staggering forward to the holy bishop’s feet, fell prostrate before him. -It was some time before his feelings could find vent in words; when -these came, they were the ones he had resolved to utter: - -“Father, I have sinned before heaven, and against Thee, and I am not -worthy to be called Thy child.” - -The Pontiff raised him up kindly, and pressed him to his bosom, saying, -“Welcome back, my son, whoever thou art, to thy Father’s house. But thou -art weak and faint, and needest rest.” - -Some refreshment was immediately procured. But Torquatus would not rest -till he had publicly avowed the whole of his guilt, including the day’s -crimes; for it was still the evening of the same day. All rejoiced at -the prodigal’s return, at the lost sheep’s recovery. Agnes looked up to -heaven from her last affectionate glance on the blind virgin’s shroud, -and thought that she could almost see her seated at the feet of her -Spouse, smiling, with her eyes wide open, as she cast down a handful of -flowers on the head of the penitent, the first-fruits of her -intercession in heaven. - -[Illustration: Jesus cures the Blind Man, from a picture in the Cemetery -of St. Domitilla.] - -Diogenes and his sons took charge of him. An humble lodging was procured -for him, in a Christian cottage near, that he might not be within the -reach of temptation, or of vengeance, and he was enrolled in the class -of penitents, where years of expiation, shortened by the intercession of -confessors--that is, future martyrs--would prepare him for full -re-admission to the privileges he had forfeited.[158] - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -TWOFOLD REVENGE. - - -Sebastian’s visit to the cemetery had been not merely to take thither -for sepulture the relics of the first martyr, but also to consult with -Marcellinus about his safety. His life was too valuable to the Church to -be sacrificed so early, and Sebastian knew how eagerly it was sought. -Torquatus now confirmed this, by communicating Fulvius’s designs, and -the motive of his attendance at the December ordination. The usual papal -residence was no longer safe; and a bold idea had been adopted by the -courageous soldier,--the “Protector of the Christians,” as his acts tell -us he had been authoritatively called. It was to lodge the Pontiff where -no one could suspect him to be, and where no search would be dreamt of, -in the very palace of the Cæsars.[159] Efficiently disguised, the holy -Bishop left the cemetery, and, escorted by Sebastian and Quadratus, was -safely housed in the apartments of Irene, a Christian lady of rank, who -lived in a remote part of the Palatine, in which her husband held a -household office. - -Early next morning Sebastian was with Pancratius. “My dear boy,” he -said, “you must leave Rome instantly, and go into Campania. I have -horses ready for you and Quadratus; and there is no time to be lost.” - -“And why, Sebastian?” replied the youth, with sorrowful face and tearful -eye. “Have I done something wrong, or are you doubtful of my fortitude?” - -“Neither, I assure you. But you have promised to be guided by me in all -things, and I never considered your obedience more necessary than now.” - -“Tell me why, good Sebastian, I pray.” - -“It must be a secret as yet.” - -“What, _another_ secret?” - -“Call it the same, to be revealed at the same time. But I can tell you -what I want you to do, and that I think will satisfy you. Corvinus has -got orders to seize on Chromatius and all his community, yet young in -the faith, as the wretched example of Torquatus has shown us; and, what -is worse, to put your old master Cassianus, at Fundi, to a cruel death. -I want you to hasten before his messenger (perhaps he may go himself), -and put them on their guard.” - -Pancratius looked up brightly again; he saw that Sebastian trusted him. -“Your wish is enough reason for me,” said he, smiling; “but I would go -the world’s end to save my good Cassianus, or any other -fellow-Christians.” - -He was soon ready, took an affectionate leave of his mother; and before -Rome had fully shaken off sleep, he and Quadratus, each with -well-furnished saddle-bags on their powerful steeds, were trotting -across the campagna of Rome, to reach the less-frequented, and safer, -track of the Latin way. - -Corvinus having resolved to keep the hostile expedition in his own -hands, as honorable, lucrative, and pleasant, it was delayed a couple of -days, both that he might feel more comfortable about his shoulders, and -that he might make proper preparations. He had a chariot hired, and -engaged a body of Numidian runners, who could keep up with a carriage -at full speed. But he was thus two days behind our Christians, though -he, of course, travelled by the shorter and more beaten Appian road. - -When Pancratius arrived at the Villa of Statues, he found the little -community already excited, by the rumors, which had reached it, of the -edict’s publication. He was welcomed most warmly by all; and Sebastian’s -letter of advice was received with deep respect. Prayer and deliberation -succeeded its perusal, and various resolutions were taken. Marcus and -Marcellianus, with their father Tranquillinus, had already gone to Rome -for the ordination. Nicostratus, Zoë, and others followed them now. -Chromatius, who was not destined for the crown of martyrdom, though -commemorated, by the Church, with his son, on the 11th of August, found -shelter for a time in Fabiola’s villa, for which letters had been -procured from its mistress, without her knowing the reason why; for he -wished to remain in the neighborhood a little while longer. In fine, the -villa _ad Statuas_ was left in charge of a few faithful servants, fully -to be depended upon. - -When the two messengers had given themselves and their horses a good -rest, they travelled, by the same road as Torquatus had lately trodden, -to Fundi, where they put up at an obscure inn out of the town, on the -Roman road. Pancratius soon found out his old master, who embraced him -most affectionately. He told him his errand, and entreated him to fly, -or at least conceal himself. - -“No,” said the good man, “it must not be. I am already old, and I am -weary of my unprofitable profession. I and my servant are the only two -Christians in the town. The best families have, indeed, sent their -children to my school, because they knew it would be kept as moral as -paganism will permit; but I have not a friend among my scholars, by -reason of this very strictness. And they want even the natural -refinement of Roman heathens. They are rude provincials; and I believe -there are some among the elder ones who would not scruple to take my -life, if they could do so with impunity.” - -“What a wretched existence indeed, Cassianus, you must be leading! Have -you made no impression on them?” - -“Little or none, dear Pancratius. And how can I, while I am obliged to -make them read those dangerous books, full of fables, which Roman and -Greek literature contain? No, I have done little by my words; perhaps my -death may do more for them.” - -Pancratius found all expostulation vain, and would have almost joined -him in his resolution to die; only he had promised Sebastian not to -expose his life during the journey. He, however, determined to remain -about the town till he saw the end. - -Corvinus arrived with his men at the villa of Chromatius; and early in -the morning rushed suddenly through the gates, and to the house. He -found it empty. He searched it through and through, but discovered -neither a person, a book, nor a symbol of Christianity. He was -confounded and annoyed. He looked about; and having found a servant -working in the garden, asked him where his master was. - -“Master no tell slave where he go,” was the reply, in a latinity -corresponding to such a rude phraseology. - -“You are trifling with me. Which way did he and his companions go?” - -“Through yonder gate.” - -“And then?” - -“Look that way,” answered the servant. “You see gate? very well; you see -no more. Me work here, me see gate, me see no more.” - -“When did they go? at least you can answer that.” - -“After the two come from Rome.” - -“What two? Always two, it seems.” - -“One good youth, very handsome, sing so sweet. The other very big, very -strong, oh, very. See that young tree pulled up by the roots? He do that -as easy as me pull my spade out of the ground.” - -“The very two,” exclaimed Corvinus, thoroughly enraged. “Again that -dastardly boy has marred my plans and destroyed my hopes. He shall -suffer well for it.” - -As soon as he was a little rested, he resumed his journey, and -determined to vent all his fury on his old master; unless, indeed, he -whom he considered his evil genius should have been there before him. He -was engaged during his journey, in plotting vengeance upon master and -fellow-student; and he was delighted to find, that one at least was at -Fundi, when he arrived. He showed the governor his order for the arrest -and punishment of Cassianus, as a most dangerous Christian; but that -officer, a humane man, remarked that the commission superseded ordinary -jurisdiction in the matter, and gave Corvinus full power to act. He -offered him the assistance of an executioner, and other requisites; but -they were declined. Corvinus had brought an abundant supply of strength -and cruelty, in his own body-guard. He took, however, a public officer -with him. - -He proceeded to the school-house when filled with scholars; shut the -doors, and reproached Cassianus, who advanced with open hand and -countenance to greet him, as a conspirator against the state and a -perfidious Christian. A shout arose from the boyish mob; and by its -tone, and by the look which he cast around, Corvinus learnt there were -many present like himself--young bears’ cubs, with full-grown hyenas’ -hearts within them. - -“Boys!” he shouted out, “do you love your master Cassianus? He was once -mine too, and I owe him many a grudge.” - -A yell of execration broke out from the benches. - -“Then I have good news for you; here is permission from the divine -emperor Maximian for you to do what you like to him.” - -A shower of books, writing tablets, and other school missiles, was -directed against the master, who stood unmoved, with his arms folded, -before his persecutor. Then came a rush from all sides, with menacing -attitudes of a brutal onslaught. - -“Stop, stop,” cried out Corvinus, “we must go more systematically to -work than this.” - -He had reverted in thought to the recollection of his own sweet -school-boy days; that time which most look back on from hearts teeming -with softer feelings than the contemplation of present things can -suggest. He indulged in the reminiscence of that early season in which -others find but the picture of unselfish, joyous, happy hours; and he -sought in the recollection what would most have gratified him then, that -he might bestow it as a boon on the hopeful youths around him. But he -could think of nothing that would have been such a treat to him, as to -pay back to his master every stroke of correction, and write in blood -upon him every word of reproach that he had received. Delightful -thought, now to be fulfilled! - -It is far from our intention to harrow the feelings of our gentle -readers by descriptions of the cruel and fiendish torments inflicted by -the heathen persecutors on our Christian forefathers. Few are more -horrible, yet few better authenticated, than the torture practised on -the martyr Cassianus. Placed, bound, in the midst of his ferocious young -tigers, he was left to be the lingering victim of their feeble cruelty. -Some, as the Christian poet Prudentius tells us, cut their tasks upon -him with the steel points used in engraving writing on wax-covered -tablets; others exercised the ingenuity of a precocious brutality, by -inflicting every possible torment on his lacerated body. Loss of blood, -and acute pain, at length exhausted him, and he fell on the floor -without power to rise. A shout of exultation followed, new insults were -inflicted, and the troop of youthful demons broke loose, to tell the -story of their sport at their respective homes. To give Christians -decent burial never entered into the minds of their persecutors; and -Corvinus, who had glutted his eyes with the spectacle of his vengeance, -and had urged on the first efforts at cruelty of his ready instruments, -left the expiring man where he lay, to die unnoticed. His faithful -servant, however, raised him up, and laid him on his bed, and sent a -token, as he had preconcerted, to Pancratius, who was soon at his side, -while his companion looked after preparations for their departure. The -youth was horrified at what he beheld, and at the recital of his old -master’s exquisite torture, as he was edified by the account of his -patience. For not a word of reproach had escaped him, and prayer alone -had occupied his thoughts and tongue. - -Cassianus recognized his dear pupil, smiled upon him, pressed his hand -in his own, but could not speak. After lingering till morning he -placidly expired. The last rites of Christian sepulture were modestly -paid to him on the spot, for the house was his; and Pancratius hurried -from the scene, with a heavy heart and a no slight rising of its -indignation, against the heartless savage who had devised and witnessed, -without remorse, such a tragedy. - -He was mistaken, however. No sooner was his revenge fulfilled than -Corvinus felt all the disgrace and shame of what he had done; he feared -it should be known to his father, who had always esteemed Cassianus; he -feared the anger of the parents, whose children he had that day -effectually demoralized, and fleshed to little less than parricide. He -ordered his horses to be harnessed, but was told they must have some -more hours’ rest. This increased his displeasure; remorse tormented -him, and he sat down to drink, and so drown care and pass time. At -length he started on his journey, and after baiting for an hour or two, -pushed on through the night. The road was heavy from continued rain, and -ran along the side of the great canal which drains the Pontine marshes, -and between two rows of trees. - -Corvinus had drunk again at his halt, and was heated with wine, -vexation, and remorse. The dragging pace of his jaded steeds provoked -him, and he kept lashing them furiously on. While they were thus excited -they heard the tramp of horses coming fast on behind, and dashed forward -at an uncontrollable speed. The attendants were soon left at a distance, -and the frightened horses passed between the trees on to the narrow path -by the canal, and galloped forward, rocking the chariot from side to -side at a reckless rate. The horsemen behind hearing the violent rush of -hoofs and wheels, and the shout of the followers, clapped spurs to their -horses, and pushed gallantly forward. They had passed the runners some -way when they heard a crash and a plunge. The wheel had struck the trunk -of a tree, the chariot had turned over, and its half-drunken driver had -been tossed head over heels into the water. In a moment Pancratius was -off his horse and by the side of the canal, together with his companion. - -By the faint light of the rising moon, and by the sound of his voice, -the youth recognized Corvinus struggling in the muddy stream. The side -was not deep, but the high clayey bank was wet and slimy, and every time -he attempted to climb it his foot slipped, and he fell back into the -deep water in the middle. He was, in fact, already becoming benumbed and -exhausted by his wintry bath. - -“It would serve him right to leave him there,” muttered the rough -centurion. - -“Hush, Quadratus! how can you say so? give me hold of your hand. So!” -said the youth, leaning over the bank and seizing his enemy by his arm, -just as he was relaxing his hold on a withered shrub, and falling back -fainting into the stream. It would have been his last plunge. They -pulled him out and laid him on the road, a pitiable figure for his -greatest foe. They chafed his temples and hands, and he had begun to -revive when his attendants came up. To their care they consigned him, -together with his purse, which had fallen from his belt as they drew him -from the canal. But Pancratius took possession of his own pen-knife, -which dropped out with it, and which Corvinus carried about him, as -evidence to convict him of having cut down the edict. The servants -pretended to Corvinus, when he had regained consciousness, that they had -drawn him out of the water, but that his purse must have been lost in -it, and lay still buried in the deep mud. They bore him to a neighboring -cottage, while the carriage was being repaired, and had a good carouse -with his money while he slept. - -[Illustration: The Anchor and Fish, emblematic of Christianity, found in -the Catacombs.] - -Two acts of revenge had been thus accomplished in one day,--the pagan -and the Christian. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -THE PUBLIC WORKS. - - -If, before the edict, the Thermæ of Dioclesian were being erected by the -labor and sweat of Christian prisoners, it will not appear surprising, -that their number and their sufferings should have greatly increased, -with the growing intensity of a most savage persecution. That emperor -himself was expected for the inauguration of his favorite building, and -hands were doubled on the work to expedite its completion. Chains of -supposed culprits arrived each day from the port of Luna, from Sardinia, -and even from the Crimea, or Chersonesus, where they had been engaged in -quarries or mines; and were put to labor in the harder departments of -the building art. To transport materials, to saw and cut stone and -marble, to mix the mortar, and to build up the walls, were the duties -allotted to the religious culprits, many of whom were men little -accustomed to such menial toil. The only recompense which they received -for their labor, was that of the mules and oxen which shared their -occupation. Little better, if better, than a stable to sleep in, food -sufficient in quantity to keep up their strength, clothing enough to -guard them from the inclemency of the season, this was all they had to -expect. Fetters on their ankles, heavy chains to prevent their escape, -increased their sufferings; and task-masters, acceptable in proportion -as they were unreasonable, watched every gang with lash or stick in -hand, ever ready to add pain to toil, whether it were to vent their own -wanton cruelty upon unresisting objects, or to please their crueller -masters. - -But the Christians of Rome took peculiar care of these blessed -confessors, who were particularly venerated by them. Their deacons -visited them, by bribing their guards; and young men would boldly -venture among them, and distribute more nourishing food, or warmer -clothing to them, or give them the means of conciliating their keepers, -so as to obtain better treatment at their hands. They would then also -recommend themselves to their prayers, as they kissed the chains and the -bruises, which these holy confessors bore for Christ. - -This assemblage of men, convicted of serving faithfully their divine -Master, was useful for another purpose. Like the stew in which the -luxurious Lucullus kept his lampreys ready fattened for a banquet; like -the cages in which rare birds, the pens in which well-fed cattle, were -preserved for the sacrifice, or the feast of an imperial anniversary; -like the dens near the amphitheatre, in which ferocious beasts were fed -for exhibition at the public games; just so were the public works the -preserves, from which at any time could be drawn the materials for a -sanguinary hecatomb, or a gratification of the popular appetite for -cruel spectacles, on any occasion of festivity; public stores of food -for those fierce animals, whenever the Roman people wished to share in -their savage propensities. - -Such an occasion was now approaching. The persecution had lingered. No -person of note had been yet captured; the failures of the first day had -not been fully repaired; and something more wholesale was expected. The -people demanded more sport; and an approaching imperial birthday -justified their gratification. The wild beasts, which Sebastian and -Pancratius had heard, yet roared for their lawful prey. “_Christianos ad -leones_” might seem to have been interpreted by them, as meaning “that -the Christians of right belonged to them.” - -One afternoon, towards the end of December, Corvinus proceeded to the -Baths of Dioclesian, accompanied by Catulus, who had an eye for proper -combatants in the amphitheatre, such as a good dealer would have for -cattle at a fair. He called for Rabirius, the superintendent of the -convict department, and said to him: - -“Rabirius, I am come by order of the emperor, to select a sufficient -number of the wicked Christians under your charge, for the honor of -fighting in the amphitheatre, on occasion of the coming festival.” - -“Really,” answered the officer, “I have none to spare. I am obliged to -finish the work in a given time, and I cannot do so, if I am left short -of hands.” - -“I cannot help that; others will be got to replace those that are taken -from you. You must walk Catulus and myself through your works, and let -us choose those that will suit us.” - -Rabirius, grumbling at this unreasonable demand, submitted nevertheless -to it, and took them into a vast area, just vaulted over. It was entered -by a circular vestibule lighted from above, like the Pantheon. This led -into one of the shorter arms of a cruciform hall of noble dimensions, -into which opened a number of lesser, though still handsome, chambers. -At each angle of the hall, where the arms intersected one another, a -huge granite pillar of one block had to be erected. Two were already in -their places, one was girt with ropes delivered round capstans, ready to -be raised on the morrow. A number of men were actively employed in -making final preparations. Catulus nudged Corvinus, and pointed, with -his thumb, to two fine youths, who, stripped slave-fashion to their -waists, were specimens of manly athletic forms. - -“I must have those two, Rabirius,” said the willing purveyor to wild -beasts; “they will do charmingly. I am sure they are Christians, they -work so cheerfully.” - -“I cannot possibly spare them at present. They are worth six men, or a -pair of horses, at least, to me. Wait till the heavy work is over, and -then they are at your service.” - -“What are their names, that I may take a note of them? And mind, keep -them up in good condition.” - -“They are called Largus and Smaragdus; they are young men of excellent -family, but work like plebeians, and will go with you nothing loth.” - -“They shall have their wish,” said Corvinus, with great glee. And so -they had later. - -As they went through the works, however, they picked out a number of -captives, for many of whom Rabirius made resistance, but generally in -vain. At length they came near one of those chambers which flanked the -eastern side of the longer arm of the hall. In one of them they saw a -number of convicts (if we must use the term) resting after their labor. -The centre of the group was an old man, most venerable in appearance, -with a long white beard streaming on his breast, mild in aspect, gentle -in word, cheerful in his feeble action. It was the confessor Saturninus, -now in his eightieth year, yet loaded with two heavy chains. At each -side were the more youthful laborers, Cyriacus and Sisinnius, of whom it -is recorded, that, in addition to their own task-work, one on each side, -they bore up his bonds. Indeed, we are told that their particular -delight was, over and above their own assigned portion of toil, to help -their weaker brethren, and perform their work for them.[160] But their -time was not yet come; for both of them, before they received their -crowns, were ordained deacons in the next pontificate. - -Several other captives lay on the ground, about the old man’s feet, as -he, seated on a block of marble, was talking to them, with a sweet -gravity, which riveted their attention, and seemed to make them forget -their sufferings. What was he saying to them? Was he requiting Cyriacus -for his extraordinary charity, by telling him that, in commemoration of -it, a portion of the immense pile which they were toiling to raise, -would be dedicated to God, under his invocation, become a title, and -close its line of titulars by an illustrious name?[161] Or was he -recounting another more glorious vision, how this smaller oratory was to -be superseded and absorbed by a glorious temple in honor of the Queen of -Angels, which should comprise the entire of that superb hall, with its -vestibule, under the directing skill of the mightiest artistic genius -that the world should ever see?[162] What more consoling thought could -have been vouchsafed to those poor oppressed captives, than that they -were not so much erecting baths for the luxury of a heathen people, or -the prodigality of a wicked emperor, as in truth building up one of the -stateliest churches in which the true God is worshipped, and the Virgin -Mother, who bore Him incarnate, is affectionately honored? - -From a distance Corvinus saw the group; and pausing, asked the -superintendent the names of those who composed it. He enumerated them -readily; then added, “You may as well take that old man, if you like; -for he is not worth his keep, as far as work goes.” - -“Thank you,” replied Corvinus, “a pretty figure he would cut in the -amphitheatre. The people are not to be put off with decrepit old -creatures, whom a single stroke of a bear’s or tiger’s paw kills -outright. They like to see young blood flowing, and plenty of life -struggling against wounds and blows, before death comes to decide the -contest. But there is one there whom you have not named. His face is -turned from us; he has not the prisoner’s garb, nor any kind of fetter. -Who can it be?” - -“I do not know his name,” answered Rabirius; “but he is a fine youth, -who spends much of his time among the convicts, relieves them, and even -at times helps them in their work. He pays, of course, well for being -allowed all this; so it is not our business to ask questions.” - -“But it is mine, though,” said Corvinus, sharply; and he advanced for -this purpose. The voice caught the stranger’s ear, and he turned round -to look. - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - -Corvinus sprung upon him with the eye and action of a wild beast, seized -him, and called out, with exultation, “Fetter him instantly. This time -at least, Pancratius, thou shalt not escape.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -THE PRISON. - - -If a modern Christian wishes really to know what his forefathers -underwent for the faith, during three centuries of persecution, we would -not have him content himself with visiting the catacombs, as we have -tried to make him do, and thus learning what sort of life they were -compelled to lead; but we would advise him to peruse those imperishable -records, the _Acts of the Martyrs_, which will show him how they were -made to die. We know of no writings so moving, so tender, so consoling, -and so ministering of strength to faith and to hope, after God’s -inspired words, as these venerable monuments. And if our reader, so -advised, have not leisure sufficient to read much upon this subject, we -would limit him willingly to one specimen, the genuine Acts of SS. -Perpetua and Felicitas. It is true that they will be best read by the -scholar in their plain African latinity; but we trust that some one will -soon give us a worthy English version of these, and some other similar, -early Christian documents. The ones which we have singled out are the -same as were known to St. Augustine, and cannot be read by any one -without emotion. If the reader would compare the morbid sensibility, and -the overstrained excitement, endeavored to be produced by a modern -French writer, in the imaginary journal of a culprit condemned to -death, down to the immediate approach of execution, with the unaffected -pathos, and charming truthfulness, which pervades the corresponding -narrative of Vivia Perpetua, a delicate lady of twenty-one years of age, -he would not hesitate in concluding, how much more natural, graceful, -and interesting are the simple recitals of Christianity, than the -boldest fictions of romance. And when our minds are sad, or the petty -persecutions of our times incline our feeble hearts to murmur, we cannot -do better than turn to that really golden, because truthful legend, or -to the history of the noble martyrs of Vienne, or Lyons, or to the many -similar, still extant records, to nerve our courage, by the -contemplation of what children and women, catechumens and slaves, -suffered, unmurmuring, for Christ. - -But we are wandering from our narrative. Pancratius, with some twenty -more, fettered, and chained together, were led through the streets to -prison. As they were thus dragged along, staggering and stumbling -helplessly, they were unmercifully struck by the guards who conducted -them; and any persons near enough to reach them, dealt them blows and -kicks without remorse. Those further off pelted them with stones or -offal, and assailed them with insulting ribaldry.[163] They reached the -Mamertine prison at last, and were thrust down into it, and found there -already other victims, of both sexes, awaiting their time of sacrifice. -The youth had just time, while he was being handcuffed, to request one -of the captors to inform his mother and Sebastian of what had happened, -and he slipped his purse into his hand. - -A prison in ancient Rome was not the place to which a poor man might -court committal, hoping there to enjoy better fare and lodging than he -did at home. Two or three of these dungeons, for they are nothing -better, still remain; and a brief description of the one which we have -mentioned will give our readers some idea of what confessorship cost, -independent of martyrdom. - -[Illustration: The Mamertine Prison.] - -The Mamertine prison is composed of two square subterranean chambers, -one below the other, with only one round aperture in the centre of each -vault, through which alone light, air, food, furniture, and men could -pass. When the upper story was full, we may imagine how much of the two -first could reach the lower. No other means of ventilation, drainage, or -access could exist. The walls, of large stone blocks, had, or rather -have, rings fastened into them for securing the prisoners; but many used -to be laid on the floor, with their feet fastened in the stocks; and the -ingenious cruelty of the persecutors often increased the discomfort of -the damp stone floor, by strewing with broken potsherds this only bed -allowed to the mangled limbs, and welted backs, of the tortured -Christians. Hence we have in Africa a company of martyrs, headed by SS. -Saturninus and Dativus, who all perished through their sufferings in -prison. And the acts of the Lyonese martyrs inform us that many -new-comers expired in the jail, killed by severities, before their -bodies had endured any torments; while, on the contrary, some who -returned to it so cruelly tortured that their recovery appeared -hopeless, without any medical or other assistance, there regained their -health.[164] At the same time the Christians bought access to these -abodes of pain, but not of sorrow, and furnished whatever could, under -such circumstances, relieve the sufferings and increase the comforts, -temporal and spiritual, of these most cherished and venerated of their -brethren. - -Roman justice required at least the outward forms of trial, and hence -the Christian captives were led from their dungeons before the tribunal; -where they were subjected to an interrogatory, of which most precious -examples have been preserved in the proconsular Acts of Martyrs, just as -they were entered by the secretary or registrar of the court. - -When the Bishop of Lyons, Pothinus, now in his ninetieth year, was -asked, “Who is the God of the Christians?” he replied, with simple -dignity, “If thou shalt be worthy, thou shalt know.”[165] Sometimes the -judge would enter into a discussion with his prisoner, and necessarily -get the worst of it; though the latter would seldom go further with him -than simply reiterating his plain profession of the Christian faith. -Often, as in the case of one Ptolomæus, beautifully recited by St. -Justin, and in that of St. Perpetua, he was content to ask the simple -question, Art thou a Christian? and upon an affirmative reply, proceeded -to pronounce capital sentence. - -Pancratius and his companion stood before the judge; for it wanted only -three days to the _munus_, or games, at which they were to “fight with -wild beasts.” - -“What art thou?” he asked of one. - -“I am a Christian, by the help of God,” was the rejoinder. - -“And who art thou?” said the prefect to Rusticus. - -“I am, indeed, a slave of Cæsar’s,” answered the prisoner; “but becoming -a Christian, I have been freed by Christ Himself; and by His grace and -mercy I have been made partaker of the same hope as those whom you see.” - -Then turning to a holy priest, Lucianus, venerable for his years and his -virtues, the judge thus addressed him: “Come, be obedient to the gods -themselves, and to the imperial edicts.” - -“No one,” answered the old man, “can be reprehended or condemned who -obeys the precepts of Jesus Christ our Saviour.” - -“What sort of learning and studies dost thou pursue?” - -“I have endeavored to master every science, and have tried every variety -of learning. But finally I adhered to the doctrines of Christianity, -although they do not please those who follow the wanderings of false -opinions.” - -“Wretch! dost thou find delight in _that_ learning?” - -“The greatest; because I follow the Christians in right doctrine.” - -“And what is that doctrine?” - -“The right doctrine, which we Christians piously hold, is to believe in -one God, the Maker and Creator of all things visible and invisible; and -to confess the Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God, anciently foretold by -the prophets, who will come to judge mankind, and is the preacher and -master of salvation, to those who will learn well under Him. I indeed, -as a mere man, am too weak and insignificant to be able to utter any -thing great of _His infinite Deity_: this office belongs to the -prophets.”[166] - -“Thou art, methinks, a master of error to others, and deservest to be -more severely punished than the rest. Let this Lucianus be kept in the -nerve (stocks) with his feet stretched to the fifth hole.[167]--And you -two women, what are your names and condition?” - -“I am a Christian, who have no spouse but Christ. My name is Secunda,” -replied the one. - -“And I am a widow, named Rufina, professing the same saving faith,” -continued the other. - -At length, after having put similar questions, and receiving similar -answers from all the others, except from one wretched man, who, to the -grief of the rest, wavered and agreed to offer sacrifice, the prefect -turned to Pancratius, and thus addressed him: “And now, insolent youth, -who hadst the audacity to tear down the edict of the divine emperors, -even for thee there shall be mercy, if yet thou wilt sacrifice to the -gods. Show thus at once thy piety and thy wisdom, for thou art yet but a -stripling.” - -Pancratius signed himself with the sign of the saving cross, and calmly -replied, “I am the servant of Christ. Him I acknowledge by my mouth, -hold firm in my heart, _incessantly adore_. This youth which you behold -in me has the wisdom of grey hairs if it worship but one God. But your -gods, with those who adore them, are destined to eternal -destruction.”[168] - -“Strike him on the mouth for his blasphemy, and beat him with rods,” -exclaimed the angry judge. - -“I thank thee,” replied meekly the noble youth, “that thus I suffer some -of the same punishment as was inflicted on my Lord.”[169] - -The prefect then pronounced sentence in the usual form. “Lucianus, -Pancratius, Rusticus, and others, and the women Secunda and Rufina, who -have all owned themselves Christians, and refuse to obey the sacred -emperor, or worship the gods of Rome, we order to be exposed to wild -beasts, in the Flavian amphitheatre.” - -[Illustration: The Blessed Virgin, from a portrait found in the Cemetery -of St. Agnes.] - -The mob howled with delight and hatred, and accompanied the confessors -back to their prison with this rough music; but they were gradually -overawed by the dignity of their gait, and the shining calmness of their -countenances. Some men asserted that they must have perfumed themselves, -for they could perceive a fragrant atmosphere surrounding their -persons.[170] - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -THE VIATICUM. - - -A true contrast to the fury and discord without, was the scene within -the prison. Peace, serenity, cheerfulness, and joy reigned there; and -the rough stone walls and vaults re-echoed to the chant of psalmody, in -which Pancratius was precentor, and in which depth called out to depth; -for the prisoners in the lower dungeon responded to those above, and -kept up the alternation of verses, in those psalms which the -circumstances naturally suggested. - -The eve of “fighting with,” that is being torn to pieces by, wild -beasts, was always a day of greater liberty. The friends of the intended -victims were admitted to see them; and the Christians boldly took full -advantage of the permission to flock to the prison, and commend -themselves to the prayers of the blessed confessors of Christ. At -evening they were led forth to enjoy what was called the free supper, -that is, an abundant, and even luxurious, public feast. The table was -surrounded by pagans, curious to watch the conduct and looks of the -morrow’s combatants. But they could discern neither the bravado and -boisterousness, nor the dejection and bitterness of ordinary culprits. -To the guests it was truly an _agape_, or love-feast; for they supped -with calm joyfulness amidst cheerful conversation. Pancratius, however, -once or twice reproved the unfeeling curiosity, and rude remarks of the -crowd, saying, “To-morrow is not sufficient for you, because you love to -look upon the objects of your future hatred. To-day you are our friends; -to-morrow our foes. But mark well our countenances, that you may know -them again in the day of judgment.” Many retired at this rebuke, and not -a few were led by it to conversion.[171] - -But while the persecutors thus prepared a feast for the bodies of their -victims, the Church, their mother, had been preparing a much more dainty -banquet for the souls of her children. They had been constantly attended -on by the deacons, particularly Reparatus, who would gladly have joined -their company. But his duty forbade this at present. After, therefore, -having provided as well as possible for their temporal wants, he had -arranged with the pious priest Dionysius, who still dwelt in the house -of Agnes, to send, towards evening, sufficient portions of the Bread of -Life, to feed, early in the morning of their battle, the champions of -Christ. Although the deacons bore the consecrated elements from the -principal church to others, where they were only distributed by the -titulars, the office of conveying them to the martyrs in prison, and -even to the dying, was committed to inferior ministers. On this day, -that the hostile passions of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the -coming slaughter of so many Christian victims, it was a work of more -than common danger to discharge this duty. For the revelations of -Torquatus had made it known that Fulvius had carefully noted all the -ministers of the sanctuary, and given a description of them to his -numerous active spies. Hence they could scarcely venture out by day, -unless thoroughly disguised. - -The sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the -altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer. -Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt -at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the -sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as -an angel’s, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it. - -“Thou art too young, my child,” said the kind priest, filled with -admiration of the picture before him. - -“My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me -this great honor.” The tears stood in the boy’s eyes, and his cheeks -glowed with a modest emotion as he spoke these words. He stretched forth -his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and courage -that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine Mysteries -wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer covering, and -put them on his palms, saying: - -“Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care. -Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things -must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou -wilt keep safely God’s sacred gifts?” - -“I will die rather than betray them,” answered the holy youth, as he -folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful -reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual -expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped -lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too -low, thoroughfares. - -As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich -lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty -and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on. -“Stay, one moment, dear child,” she said, putting herself in his way: -“tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?” - -“I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy,” he replied, looking up, smilingly; -“and I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to -hear.” - -“Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I -had a child like thee!” - -“Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and -sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance.” - -“Then promise to come to me to-morrow; this is my house.” - -“If I am alive, I will,” answered the boy with a kindled look, which -made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched -him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him. -Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her -pause, on her way, until they had ceased, when she went on again. - -In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things -than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space, -where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play. - -“We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?” said -their leader. - -“Capital!” exclaimed another, “here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not -seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come, -Tarcisius,” he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, “whither so fast? -take a part in our game, that’s a good fellow.” - -“I can’t, Petilius, now; I really can’t. I am going on business of great -importance.” - -“But you shall,” exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying -youth, laying hold of him. “I will have no sulking, when I want any -thing done. So come, join us at once.” - -“I entreat you,” said the poor boy feelingly, “do let me go.” - -“No such thing,” replied the other. “What is that you seem to be -carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will -not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and -I will put it by safe while we play.” And he snatched at the sacred -deposit in his breast. - -“Never, never,” answered the child, looking up towards heaven. - -“I _will_ see it,” insisted the other rudely; “I will know what is this -wonderful secret.” And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd -of men from the neighborhood soon got round; and all asked eagerly what -was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed -with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much -bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs, -pulls, blows, kicks seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without a -murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his -purpose. - -“What is it? what can it be?” one began to ask the other; when Fulvius -chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at -once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being -asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied -contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, “What is it? Why, only a -Christian ass, bearing the mysteries.”[172] - -This was enough. Fulvius, while he scorned such unprofitable prey, knew -well the effect of his word. Heathen curiosity, to see the mysteries of -the Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general -demand was made to Tarcisius, to yield up his charge. “Never with life,” -was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith’s fist nearly stunned him, -while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed, -till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his -breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were -just seizing him, to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt -themselves pushed aside, right and left, by some giant strength. Some -went reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round -and round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the -rest retired before a tall, athletic officer, who was the author of this -overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground, than he was on his -knees, and with tears in his eyes, raised up the bruised and fainting -boy, as tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones -asked him, “Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?” - -“Never mind me, Quadratus,” answered he, opening his eyes with a smile; -“but I am carrying the divine mysteries; take care of them.” - -The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if -bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr’s -relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of -eternal salvation. The child’s head leaned in confidence on the stout -soldier’s neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody -of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the -hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady -met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer -at what he carried. “Is it possible?” she exclaimed with terror, “is -that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely? Who -can have done this?” - -“Madam,” replied Quadratus, “they have murdered him because he was a -Christian.” - -The lady looked for an instant on the child’s countenance. He opened his -eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of -faith: she hastened to be a Christian likewise. - -The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the -child’s hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of holies; -and he thought he looked more like - -[Illustration: “Is it possible?” she exclaimed with terror, “is that -Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?”] - -an angel now, sleeping the martyr’s slumber, than he did when living -scarcely an hour before. Quadratus himself bore him to the cemetery of -Callistus, where he was buried amidst the admiration of older believers; -and later the holy Pope Damasus composed for him an epitaph, which no -one can read, without concluding that the belief in the real presence of -Our Lord’s Body in the Blessed Eucharist was the same then as now: - - “Tarcisium sanctum Christi sacramenta gerentem, - Cum male sana manus peteret vulgare profanis; - Ipse animam potius voluit dimittere cæsus - Prodere quam canibus rabidis cœlestia membra.”[173] - -He is mentioned in the Roman martyrology, on the 15th of August, as -commemorated in the cemetery of Callistus; whence his relics were, in -due time, translated to the church of St. Sylvester in Campo, as an old -inscription declares. - -News of this occurrence did not reach the prisoners till after their -feast; and perhaps the alarm that they were to be deprived of the -spiritual food to which they looked forward for strength, was the only -one that could have overcast, even slightly, the serenity of their -souls. At this moment Sebastian entered, and perceived at once that some -unpleasant news had arrived, and as quickly divined what it was; for -Quadratus had already informed him of all. He cheered up, therefore, the -confessors of Christ; assured them that they should not be deprived of -their coveted food; then whispered a few words to Reparatus the deacon, -who flew out immediately with a look of bright intelligence. - -Sebastian, being known to the guards, had passed freely in, and out of, -the prison daily; and had been indefatigable in his care of its inmates. -But now he was come to take his last farewell of his dearest friend, -Pancratius, who had longed for this interview. They drew to one side, -when the youth began: - -“Well, Sebastian, do you remember when we heard the wild beasts roar, -from your window, and looked at the many gaping arches of the -amphitheatre, as open for the Christian’s triumph?” - -“Yes, my dear boy; I remember that evening well, and it seemed to me as -if your heart anticipated then, the scenes that await you to-morrow.” - -“It did, in truth. I felt an inward assurance that I should be one of -the first to appease the roaring fury of those deputies of human -cruelty. But now that the time is come, I can hardly believe myself -worthy of so immense an honor. What can I have done, Sebastian, not -indeed to deserve it, but to be chosen out as the object of so great a -grace?” - -“You know, Pancratius, that it is not he who willeth, nor he that -runneth, but God who hath mercy, that maketh the election. But tell me -rather, how do you now feel about to-morrow’s glorious destiny?” - -“To tell the truth, it seems to me so magnificent, so far beyond my -right to claim, that sometimes it appears more like a vision than a -certainty. Does it not sound almost incredible to you, that I, who this -night am in a cold, dark, and dismal prison, shall be, before another -sun has set, listening to the harping of angelic lyres, walking in the -procession of white-robed Saints, inhaling the perfume of celestial -incense, and drinking from the crystal waters of the stream of life? Is -it not too like what one may read or hear about another, but hardly -dares to think is to be, in a few hours, real of himself?” - -“And nothing more than you have described, Pancratius?” - -“Oh, yes, far more; far more than one can name without presumption. That -I, a boy just come out of school, who have done nothing for Christ as -yet, should be able to say, ‘Sometime to-morrow, I shall see Him face to -face, and adore Him, and shall receive from Him a palm and a crown, yea, -and an affectionate embrace,’--I feel is so like a beautiful hope, that -it startles me to think it will soon be _that_ no longer. And yet, -Sebastian,” he continued fervently, seizing both his friend’s hands, “it -is true; it is true!” - -“And more still, Pancratius.” - -“Yes, Sebastian, more still, and more. To close one’s eyes upon the -faces of men, and open them in full gaze on the face of God; to shut -them upon ten thousand countenances scowling on you with hatred, -contempt, and fury, from every step of the amphitheatre, and unclose -them instantly upon that one sunlike intelligence, whose splendor would -dazzle or scorch, did not its beams surround, and embrace, and welcome -us; to dart them at once into the furnace of God’s heart, and plunge -into its burning ocean of mercy and love without fear of destruction: -surely, Sebastian, it sounds like presumption in me to say, that -to-morrow--nay, hush! the watchman from the capitol is proclaiming -midnight--that to-day, to-day, I shall enjoy all this!” - -“Happy Pancratius!” exclaimed the soldier, “you anticipate already by -some hours the raptures to come.” - -“And do you know, dear Sebastian,” continued the youth, as if -unconscious of the interruption, “it looks to me so good and merciful in -God, to grant me such a death. How much more willingly must one at my -age face it, when it puts an end to all that is hateful on earth, when -it extinguishes but the sight of hideous beasts and sinning men, -scarcely less frightful than they, and hushes only the fiend-like yells -of both! How much more trying would it be to part with the last tender -look of a mother like mine, and shut one’s ears to the sweet plaint of -her patient voice! True, I shall see her and hear her, for the last -time, as we have arranged, to-day before my fight: but I know she will -not unnerve me.” - -A tear had made its way into the affectionate boy’s eye; but he -suppressed it, and said with a gay tone: - -“But, Sebastian, you have not fulfilled your promise,--your double -promise to me,--to tell me the secrets you concealed from me. This is -your last opportunity; so, come, let me know all.” - -“Do you remember well what the secrets were?” - -“Right well, indeed, for they have much perplexed me. First on that -night of the meeting in your apartments, you said there was one motive -strong enough to check your ardent desire to die for Christ; and lately -you refused to give me your reason for despatching me hastily to -Campania, and joined this secret to the other: how, I cannot conceive.” - -“Yet they form but one. I had promised to watch over your true welfare, -Pancratius: it was a duty of friendship and love that I had assumed. I -saw your eagerness after martyrdom; I knew the ardent temperament of -your youthful heart; I dreaded lest you should commit yourself by some -over-daring action which might tarnish, even as lightly as a breath does -finely-tempered steel, the purity of your desire, or tip with a passing -blight one single leaf of your palm. I determined, therefore, to -restrain my own earnest longings, till I had seen you safe through -danger. Was this right?” - -“Oh, it was too kind of you, dear Sebastian; it was nobly kind. But how -is this connected with my journey?” - -“If I had not sent you away, you would have been seized for your boldly -tearing down the edict, or your rebuke of the judge in his court. You -would have been certainly condemned, and - -[Illustration: Each one, approaching devoutly, and with tears of -gratitude, received from his consecrated hand his share,--that is, the -whole of the mystical food.] - -would have suffered for Christ; but your sentence would have proclaimed -a different, and a civil, offence; that of rebellion against the -emperors. And moreover, my dear boy, you would have been singled out for -a triumph. You would have been pointed at by the very heathens with -honor, as a gallant and daring youth; you might have been disturbed, -even in your conflict, by a transient cloud of pride; at any rate, you -would have been spared that ignominy which forms the distinctive merit -and the special glory of dying for simply being a Christian.” - -“Quite true, Sebastian,” said Pancratius with a blush. - -“But when I saw you,” continued the soldier, “taken in the performance -of a generous act of charity towards the confessors of Christ; when I -saw you dragged through the streets, chained to a galley-slave, as a -common culprit; when I saw you pelted and hooted, like other believers; -when I heard sentence pronounced on you in common with the rest, because -you are a Christian, and for nothing else, I felt that my task was -ended; I would not have raised a finger to save you.” - -“How like God’s love has yours been to me,--so wise, so generous, and so -unsparing!” sobbed out Pancratius, as he threw himself on the soldier’s -neck; then continued: “Promise me one thing more: that this day you will -keep near me to the end, and will secure my last legacy to my mother.” - -“Even if it cost my life, I will not fail. We shall not be parted long, -Pancratius.” - -The deacon now gave notice that all was ready for offering up the holy -oblation in the dungeon itself. The two youths looked round, and -Pancratius was indeed amazed. The holy priest Lucianus was laid -stretched on the floor, with his limbs painfully distended in the -_catasta_ or stocks, so that he could not rise. Upon his breast -Reparatus had spread the three linen cloths requisite for the altar; on -them was laid the unleavened bread, and the mingled chalice, which the -deacon steadied with his hand. The head of the aged priest was held up -as he read the accustomed prayers, and performed the prescribed -ceremonies of the oblation and consecration. And then each one, -approaching devoutly, and with tears of gratitude, received from his -consecrated hand his share,--that is, the whole of the Mystical -Food.[174] - -Marvellous and beautiful instance of the power of adaptation in God’s -Church! Fixed as are her laws, her ingenious love finds means, through -their very relaxation, to demonstrate their principles; nay, the very -exception presents only a sublimer application of them. Here was a -minister of God, and a dispenser of His mysteries, who for once was -privileged to be, more than others, like Him whom he represented,--at -once the Priest and the Altar. The Church prescribed that the Holy -Sacrifice should be offered only over the relics of martyrs; here was a -martyr, by a singular prerogative, permitted to offer it over his own -body. Yet living, he “lay beneath the feet of God.” The bosom still -heaved, and the heart panted under the Divine Mysteries, it is true; but -that was only part of the action of the minister: while self was already -dead, and the sacrifice of life was, in all but act, completed in him. -There was only Christ’s life within and without the sanctuary of the -breast.[175] Was ever viaticum for martyrs more worthily prepared? - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -THE FIGHT. - - -The morning broke light and frosty; and the sun, glittering on the -gilded ornaments of the temples and other public buildings, seemed to -array them in holiday splendor. And the people, too, soon came forth -into the streets in their gayest attire, decked out with unusual -richness. The various streams converge towards the Flavian amphitheatre, -now better known by the name of the Coliseum. Each one directs his steps -to the arch indicated by the number of his ticket, and thus the huge -monster keeps sucking in by degrees that stream of life, which soon -animates and enlivens its oval tiers over tiers of steps, till its -interior is tapestried all round with human faces, and its walls seem to -rock and wave to and fro, by the swaying of the living mass. And, after -this shall have been gorged with blood, and inflamed with fury, it will -melt once more, and rush out in a thick continuous flow through the many -avenues by which it entered, now bearing their fitting name of -_Vomitoria_; for never did a more polluted stream of the dregs and pests -of humanity issue from an unbecoming reservoir, through ill-assorted -channels, than the Roman mob, drunk with the blood of martyrs, gushing -forth from the pores of the splendid amphitheatre. - -The emperor came to the games surrounded by his court, with all the -pomp and circumstance which befitted an imperial festival, keen as any -of his subjects to witness the cruel games, and to feed his eyes with a -feast of carnage. His throne was on the eastern side of the -amphitheatre, where a large space, called the _pulvinar_, was reserved, -and richly decorated for the imperial court. - -[Illustration: The Coliseum.] - -Various sports succeeded one another; and many a gladiator killed, or -wounded, had sprinkled the bright sand with blood, when the people, -eager for fiercer combats, began to call, or roar for the Christians and -the wild beasts. It is time, therefore, for us to think of our captives. - -Before the citizens were astir, they had been removed from the prison to -a strong chamber called the _spoliatorium_, the press-room, where their -fetters and chains were removed. An attempt was made to dress them -gaudily as heathen priests and priestesses; but they resisted, urging -that as they had come spontaneously to the fight, it was unfair to make -them appear in a disguise which they abhorred. During the early part of -the day they remained thus together encouraging one another, and singing -the Divine praises, in spite of the shouts which drowned their voices -from time to time. - -While they were thus engaged, Corvinus entered, and, with a look of -insolent triumph, thus accosted Pancratius: - -“Thanks to the gods, the day is come which I have long desired. It has -been a tiresome and tough struggle between us who should fall uppermost. -I have won it.” - -“How sayest thou, Corvinus? when and how have I contended with thee?” - -“Always: every where. Thou hast haunted me in my dreams; thou hast -danced before me like a meteor, and I have tried in vain to grasp thee. -Thou hast been my tormentor, my evil genius. I have hated thee; devoted -thee to the infernal gods; cursed thee and loathed thee; and now my day -of vengeance is come.” - -“Methinks,” replied Pancratius, smiling, “this does not look like a -combat. It has been all on one side; for _I_ have done none of these -things towards thee.” - -“No? thinkest thou that I believe thee, when thou hast lain ever as a -viper on my path, to bite my heel and overthrow me?” - -“Where, I again ask?” - -“Every where, I repeat. At school; in the Lady Agnes’s house; in the -Forum; in the cemetery; in my father’s own court; at Chromatius’s villa. -Yes, every where.” - -“And nowhere else but where thou hast named? when thy chariot was dashed -furiously along the Appian way, didst thou not hear the tramp of horses’ -hoofs trying to overtake thee?” - -“Wretch!” exclaimed the prefect’s son in a fury; “and was it thy -accursed steed which, purposely urged forward, frightened mine, and -nearly caused my death?” - -“No, Corvinus, hear me calmly. It is the last time we shall speak -together. I was travelling quietly with a companion towards Rome, after -having paid the last rites to our master Cassianus” (Corvinus winced, -for he knew not this before), “when I heard the clatter of a runaway -chariot; and then, indeed, I put spurs to my horse; and it is well for -thee that I did.” - -“How so?” - -“Because I reached thee just in time: when thy strength was nearly -exhausted, and thy blood almost frozen by repeated plunges in the cold -canal; and when thy arm, already benumbed, had let go its last stay, and -thou wast falling backwards for the last time into the water. I saw -thee: I knew thee, as I took hold of thee, insensible. I had in my grasp -the murderer of one most dear to me. Divine justice seemed to have -overtaken him; there was only my will between him and his doom. It was -my day of vengeance, and I fully gratified it.” - -“Ha! and how, pray?” - -“By drawing thee out, and laying thee on the bank, and chafing thee till -thy heart resumed its functions; and then consigning thee to thy -servants, rescued from death.” - -“Thou liest!” screamed Corvinus; “my servants told me that _they_ drew -me out.” - -“And did they give thee my knife, together with thy leopard-skin purse, -which I found on the ground, after I had dragged thee forth?” - -“No; they said the purse was lost in the canal. It _was_ a leopard-skin -purse, the gift of an African sorceress. What sayest thou of the knife?” - -“That it is here, see it, still rusty with the water; thy purse I gave -to thy slaves; my own knife I retained for myself; look at it again. -Dost thou believe me now? Have I been always a viper on thy path?” - -Too ungenerous to acknowledge that he had been conquered in the struggle -between them, Corvinus only felt himself withered, degraded, before his -late school-fellow, crumbled like a clot of dust in his hands. His very -heart seemed to him to blush. He felt sick, and staggered, hung down his -head, and sneaked away. He cursed the games, the emperor, the yelling -rabble, the roaring beasts, his horses and chariot, his slaves, his -father, himself,--every thing and every body except one--he could not, -for his life, curse Pancratius. - -He had reached the door, when the youth called him back. He turned and -looked at him with a glance of respect, almost approaching to love. -Pancratius put his hand on his arm, and said, “Corvinus, _I_ have freely -forgiven thee. There is One above, who cannot forgive without -repentance. Seek pardon from Him. If not, I foretell to thee this day, -that by whatsoever death I die, thou too shalt one day perish.” - -Corvinus slunk away, and appeared no more that day. He lost the sight on -which his coarse imagination had gloated for days, which he had longed -for during months. When the holiday was over he was found by his father -completely intoxicated: it was the only way he knew of drowning remorse. - -As he was leaving the prisoners, the _lanista_, or master of the -gladiators, entered the room and summoned them to the combat. They -hastily embraced one another, and took leave on earth. They entered the -arena, or pit of the amphitheatre, opposite the imperial seat, and had -to pass between two files of _venatores_, or huntsmen, who had the care -of the wild beasts, each armed with a heavy whip, wherewith he inflicted -a blow on every one as he went by him. They were then brought forward, -singly or in groups, as the people desired, or the directors of the -spectacle chose. Sometimes the intended prey was placed on an elevated -platform to be more conspicuous; at another time he was tied up to posts -to be more helpless. A favorite sport was to bundle up a female victim -in a net, and expose her to be rolled, tossed, or gored by wild -cattle.[176] One encounter with a single wild beast often finished the -martyr’s course; while occasionally three or four were successively let -loose, without their inflicting a mortal wound. The confessor was then -either remanded to prison for further torments, or taken back to the -_spoliatorium_, where the gladiator’s apprentices amused themselves with -despatching him. - -But we must content ourselves with following the last steps of our -youthful hero, Pancratius. As he was passing through the corridor that -led to the amphitheatre, he saw Sebastian standing on one side, with a -lady closely enwrapped in her mantle, and veiled. He at once recognized -her, stopped before her, knelt, and taking her hand, affectionately -kissed it. - -“Bless me, dear mother,” he said, “in this your promised hour.” - -“See, my child, the heavens,” she replied, “and look up thither, where -Christ with His saints expecteth thee. Fight the good fight for thy -soul’s sake, and show thyself faithful and steadfast in thy Saviour’s -love.[177] Remember him too whose precious relic thou bearest round thy -neck.” - -“Its price shall be doubled in thine eyes, my sweet mother, ere many -hours are over.” - -“On, on, and let us have none of this fooling,” exclaimed the _lanista_, -adding a stroke of his cane. - -Lucina retreated; while Sebastian pressed the hand of her son, and -whispered in his ear, “Courage, dearest boy; may God bless you! I shall -be close behind the emperor; give me a last look there, and--your -blessing.” - -“Ha! ha! ha!” broke out a fiendish tone close behind him. Was it a -demon’s laugh? He looked behind, and caught only a glimpse of a -fluttering cloak rounding a pillar. Who could it be? He guessed not. It -was Fulvius, who in those words had got the last link in a chain of -evidence that he had long been weaving--that Sebastian was certainly a -Christian. - -Pancratius soon stood in the midst of the arena, the last of the -faithful band. He had been reserved, in hopes that the sight of others’ -sufferings might shake his constancy; but the effect had been the -reverse. He took his stand where he was placed, and his yet delicate -frame contrasted with the swarthy and brawny limbs of the executioners -who surrounded him. They now left him alone; and we cannot better -describe him than Eusebius, an eye-witness, does a youth a few years -older: - -“You might have seen a tender youth, who had not yet entered his -twentieth year, standing without fetters, with his hands stretched forth -in the form of a cross, and praying to God most attentively, with a -fixed and untrembling heart; not retiring from the place where he first -stood, nor swerving the least, while bears and leopards, breathing fury -and death in their very snort, were just rushing on to tear his limbs in -pieces. And yet, I know not how, their jaws seemed seized and closed by -some divine and mysterious power, and they drew altogether back.”[178] - -Such was the attitude, and such the privilege of our heroic youth. The -mob were frantic, as they saw one wild beast after another careering -madly round him, roaring, and lashing its sides with its tail, while he -seemed placed in a charmed circle which they could not approach. A -furious bull, let loose upon him, dashed madly forward, with his neck -bent down, then stopped suddenly, as though he had struck his head -against a wall, pawed the ground, and scattered the dust around him, -bellowing fiercely. - -“Provoke him, thou coward!” roared out, still louder, the enraged -emperor. - -Pancratius awoke as from a trance, and waving his arms ran towards his -enemy;[179] but the savage brute, as if a lion had been rushing on him, -turned round and ran away towards the entrance, where, meeting his -keeper, he tossed him high into the air. All were disconcerted except -the brave youth, who had resumed his attitude of prayer; when one of the -crowd shouted out: “He has a charm round his neck; he is a sorcerer!” -The whole multitude re-echoed the cry, till the emperor, having -commanded silence, called out to him, “Take that amulet from thy neck, -and cast it from thee, or it shall be done more roughly for thee.” - -“Sire,” replied the youth, with a musical voice, that rang sweetly -through the hushed amphitheatre, “it is no charm that I wear, but a -memorial of my father, who in this very place made gloriously the same -confession which I now humbly make; I am a Christian; and for love of -Jesus Christ, God and man, I gladly give my life. Do not take from me -this only legacy, which I have bequeathed, richer than I received it, to -another. Try once more; it was a panther which gave him his crown; -perhaps it will bestow the same on me.” - -For an instant there was dead silence; the multitude seemed softened, -won. The graceful form of the gallant youth, his now inspired -countenance, the thrilling music of his voice, the intrepidity of his -speech, and his generous self-devotion to his cause, had wrought upon -that cowardly herd. Pancratius felt it, and his heart quailed before -their mercy more than before their rage; he had promised himself heaven -that day; was he to be disappointed? Tears started into his eyes, as -stretching forth his arms once more in the form of a cross, he called -aloud, in a tone that again vibrated through every heart: - -“To-day; oh yes, to-day, most blessed Lord, is the appointed day of Thy -coming. Tarry not longer; enough has Thy power been shown in me to them -that believe not in Thee; show now Thy mercy to me who in Thee -believe!” - -[Illustration: Pancratius was still standing in the same place, facing -the emperor, apparently so absorbed in higher thoughts, as not to heed -the movements of his enemy.] - -“The panther!” shouted out a voice. “The panther!” responded twenty. -“The panther!” thundered forth a hundred thousand, in a chorus like the -roaring of an avalanche.[180] A cage started up, as if by magic, from -the midst of the sand, and as it rose its side fell down, and freed the -captive of the desert.[181] With one graceful bound the elegant savage -gained its liberty; and, though enraged by darkness, confinement, and -hunger, it seemed almost playful, as it leaped and turned about, frisked -and gambolled noiselessly on the sand. At last it caught sight of its -prey. All its feline cunning and cruelty seemed to return, and to -conspire together in animating the cautious and treacherous movements of -its velvet-clothed frame. The whole amphitheatre was as silent as if it -had been a hermit’s dell, while every eye was intent, watching the -stealthy approaches of the sleek brute to its victim. Pancratius was -still standing in the same place, facing the emperor, apparently so -absorbed in higher thoughts as not to heed the movements of his enemy. -The panther had stolen round him, as if disdaining to attack him except -in front. Crouching upon its breast, slowly advancing one paw before -another, it had gained its measured distance, and there it lay for some -moments of breathless suspense. A deep snarling growl, an elastic spring -through the air, and it was seen gathered up like a leech, with its hind -feet on the chest, and its fangs and fore claws on the throat of the -martyr. - -He stood erect for a moment, brought his right hand to his mouth, and -looking up at Sebastian with a smile, directed to him, by a graceful -wave of his arm, the last salutation of his lips--and fell. The arteries -of the neck had been severed, and the slumber of martyrdom at once -settled on his eyelids. His blood softened, brightened, enriched, and -blended inseparably with that of his father, which Lucina had hung about -his neck. The mother’s sacrifice had been accepted.[182] - -[Illustration: A Lamp bearing a Monogram of Christ, found in the -Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -THE CHRISTIAN SOLDIER. - - -The body of the young martyr was deposited in peace on the Aurelian way, -in the cemetery which soon bore his name, and gave it, as we have before -observed, to the neighboring gate. In times of peace a basilica was -raised over his tomb, and yet stands to perpetuate his honor. - -The persecution now increased its fury, and multiplied its daily -victims. Many whose names have appeared in our pages, especially the -community of Chromatius’s villa, rapidly fell. The first was Zoë, whose -dumbness Sebastian had cured. She was surprised by a heathen rabble -praying at St. Peter’s tomb, and was hurried to trial, and hung with her -head over a smoky fire, till she died. Her husband, with three others of -the same party, was taken, repeatedly tortured, and beheaded. -Tranquillinus, the father of Marcus and Marcellianus, jealous of Zoë’s -crown, prayed openly at St. Paul’s tomb; he was taken and summarily -stoned to death. His twin sons suffered also a cruel death. The -treachery of Torquatus, by his describing his former companions, -especially the gallant Tiburtius, who was now beheaded,[183] greatly -facilitated this wholesale destruction. - -Sebastian moved in the midst of this slaughter, not like a builder who -saw his work destroyed by a tempest, nor a shepherd who beheld his flock -borne off by marauders. He felt as a general on the battle-field, who -looked only to the victory; counting every one as glorious who gave his -life in its purchase, and as ready to give his own should it prove to be -the required price. Every friend that fell before him was a bond less to -earth, and a link more to heaven; a care less below, a claim more above. -He sometimes sat lonely, or paused silently, on the spots where he had -conversed with Pancratius, recalling to mind the buoyant cheerfulness, -the graceful thoughts, and the unconscious virtue of the amiable and -comely youth. But he never felt as if they were more separated than when -he sent him on his expedition to Campania. He had redeemed his pledge to -him, and now it was soon to be his own turn. He knew it well; he felt -the grace of martyrdom swelling in his breast, and in tranquil certainty -he awaited its hour. His preparation was simple: whatever he had of -value he distributed to the poor, and he settled his property, by sale, -beyond the reach of confiscation. - -Fulvius had picked up his fair share of Christian spoils; but, on the -whole, he had been disappointed. He had not been obliged to ask for -assistance from the emperor, whose presence he avoided; but he had put -nothing by; he was not getting rich. Every evening he had to bear the -reproachful and scornful interrogatory of Eurotas on the day’s success. -Now, however, he told his stern master--for such he had become--that he -was going to strike at higher game, the emperor’s favorite officer, who -must have made a large fortune in the service. - -He had not long to wait for his opportunity. On the 9th of January a -court was held, attended, of course, by all aspirants for favors, or -fearers of imperial wrath. Fulvius was there, and, as usual, met with a -cold reception. But after bearing silently the muttered curses of the -royal brute, he boldly advanced, dropped on one knee, and thus addressed -him: - -“Sire, your divinity has often reproached me with having made, by my -discoveries, but a poor return for your gracious countenance and liberal -subsidies. But now I have found out the foulest of plots, and the basest -of ingratitudes, in immediate contact with your divine person.” - -“What dost thou mean, booby?” asked impatiently the tyrant. “Speak at -once, or I’ll have the words pulled out of thy throat by an iron hook.” - -Fulvius rose, and directing his hand, in accompaniment to his words, -said with a bitter blandness of tone: “Sebastian is a Christian.” - -The emperor started from his throne in fury. - -“Thou liest, villain! Thou shalt prove thy words, or thou shalt die such -a piecemeal death, as no Christian dog ever endured.” - -“I have sufficient proof recorded here,” he replied, producing a -parchment, and offering it, kneeling. - -The emperor was about to make an angry answer, when, to his utter -amazement, Sebastian, with unruffled looks and noble mien, stood before -him, and in the calmest accents said: - -“My liege, I spare you all trouble of proof. I _am_ a Christian, and I -glory in the name.” - -As Maximian, a rude though clever soldier, without education, could -hardly when calm express himself in decent Latin, when he was in a -passion his language was composed of broken sentences, mingled with -every vulgar and coarse epithet. In this state he was now; and he poured -out on Sebastian a torrent of abuse, in which he reproached him with -every crime, and called him by every opprobrious name, within his -well-stocked repertory of vituperation. The two crimes, however, on -which he rung his loudest changes were, ingratitude and treachery. He -had nursed, he said, a viper in his bosom, a scorpion, an evil demon; -and he only wondered he was still alive. - -The Christian officer stood the volley, as intrepidly as ever he had -borne the enemy’s assault, on the field of battle. - -“Listen to me, my royal master,” he replied, “perhaps for the last time. -I have said I am a Christian; and in this you have had the best pledge -of your security.” - -“How do you mean, ungrateful man?” - -“Thus, noble emperor: that if you want a body-guard around you of men -who will spill their last drop of life’s blood for you, go to the prison -and take the Christians from the stocks on the floor, and from the -fetter-rings on the walls; send to the courts and bear away the -mutilated confessors from the rack and the gridiron; issue orders to the -amphitheatres, and snatch the mangled half that lives from the jaws of -tigers; restore them to such shape as yet they are capable of, put -weapons into their hands, and place them around you; and in this maimed -and ill-favored host there will be more fidelity, more loyalty, more -daring for you, than in all your Dacian and Pannonian legions. You have -taken half their blood from them, and they will give you willingly the -other half.” - -“Folly and madness!” returned the sneering savage. “I would sooner -surround myself with wolves than with Christians. Your treachery proves -enough for me.” - -“And what would have prevented me at any time from _acting_ the traitor, -if I had been one? Have I not had access to your royal person by night -as by day; and have I proved a traitor? No, emperor, none has ever been -more faithful than I to you. But I have another, and a higher Lord to -serve; one who will judge us both; and His laws I must obey rather than -yours.” - -“And why have you, like a coward, concealed your religion? To escape, -perhaps, the bitter death you have deserved!” - -“No, sire; no more coward than traitor. No one better than yourself -knows that I am neither. So long as I could do any good to my brethren, -I refused not to live amidst their carnage and my afflictions. But hope -had at last died within me; and I thank Fulvius with all my heart, for -having, by his accusation, spared me the embarrassment of choice between -seeking death or enduring life.” - -“I will decide that point for you. Death is your award; and a slow -lingering one it shall be. But,” he added, in a lower tone, as if -speaking to himself, “this must not get out. All must be done quietly at -home, or treachery will spread. Here, Quadratus, take your Christian -tribune under arrest. Do you hear, dolt? Why do you not move?” - -“Because I too am a Christian!” - -Another burst of fury, another storm of vile language, which ended in -the stout centurion’s being ordered at once to execution. But Sebastian -was to be differently dealt with. - -“Order Hyphax to come hither,” roared the tyrant. In a few minutes, a -tall, half-naked Numidian made his appearance. A bow of immense length, -a gaily-painted quiver full of arrows, and a short broad-sword, were at -once the ornaments and the weapons of the captain of the African -archers. He stood erect before the emperor, like a handsome bronze -statue, with bright enamelled eyes. - -“Hyphax, I have a job for you to-morrow morning. It must be well done,” -said the emperor. - -“Perfectly, sire,” replied the dusky chief, with a grin which showed -another set of enamels in his face. - -“You see the captain Sebastian?” The negro bowed assent. “He turns out -to be a Christian!” - -If Hyphax had been on his native soil, and had trodden suddenly on a -hooded asp or a scorpion’s nest, he could not have started more. The -thought of being so near a Christian,--to him who worshipped every -abomination, believed every absurdity, practised every lewdness, -committed any atrocity! - -Maximian proceeded, and Hyphax kept time to every member of his -sentences by a nod, and what _he_ meant to be a smile;--it was hardly an -earthly one. - -“You will take Sebastian to your quarters; and early to-morrow -morning,--not this evening, mind, for I know that by this time of day -you are all drunk,--but to-morrow morning, when your hands are steady, -you will tie him to a tree in the grove of Adonis, and you will slowly -shoot him to death. Slowly, mind; none of your fine shots straight -through the heart or the brain, but plenty of arrows, till he die -exhausted by pain and loss of blood. Do you understand me? Then take him -off at once. And mind, silence; or else----” - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -THE RESCUE. - - -In spite of every attempt at concealment, the news was soon spread among -all connected with the court, that Sebastian had been discovered to be a -Christian, and was to be shot to death on the morrow. But on none did -the double intelligence make such an impression as on Fabiola. - -Sebastian a Christian! she said to herself; the noblest, purest, wisest -of Rome’s nobility a member of that vile, stupid sect? Impossible! Yet, -the fact seems certain. Have I, then, been deceived? Was he not that -which he seemed? Was he a mean impostor, who affected virtue, but was -secretly a libertine? Impossible, too! Yes, this was indeed impossible! -She had certain proofs of it. He knew that he might have had her hand -and fortune for the asking, and he had acted most generously and most -delicately towards her. He was what he seemed, that she was sure--not -gilded, but gold. - -Then how account for this phenomenon, of a Christian being all that was -good, virtuous, amiable? - -One solution never occurred to Fabiola’s mind, that he was all this -_because_ he was a Christian. She only saw the problem in another form; -how could he be all that he was _in spite_ of being a Christian? - -She turned it variously in her mind, in vain. Then it came to her -thought thus. Perhaps, after all, good old Chromatius was right, and -Christianity may not be what I have fancied; and I ought to have -inquired more about it. I am sure Sebastian never did the horrible -things imputed to Christians. Yet every body charges them with them. - -Might there not be a more refined form of this religion, and a more -grovelling one; just as she knew there was in her own sect, -Epicureanism? one coarse, material, wallowing in the very mire of -sensualism; the other refined, sceptical and reflective. Sebastian would -belong to the higher class, and despise and loathe the superstitions and -vices of the commoner Christians. Such a hypothesis might be tenable; -but it was hard to reconcile to her intellect, how a man like that noble -soldier could, any way, have belonged to that hated race. And yet he was -ready to die for their faith! As to Zoë and the others, she had heard -nothing, for she had only returned the day before from a journey made -into Campania, to arrange her father’s affairs. - -What a pity, she thought, that she had not talked more to Sebastian on -such subjects! But it was now too late; to-morrow morning he would be no -more. This second thought came with the sharp pang of a shaft shot into -her heart. She felt as if she personally were about to suffer a loss, as -if Sebastian’s fate were going to fall on some one closely bound to her, -by some secret and mysterious tie. - -Her thoughts grew darker and sadder, as she dwelt on these ideas amidst -the deepening gloom. She was suddenly disturbed by the entrance of a -slave with a light. It was Afra, the black servant, who came to prepare -her mistress’s evening repast, which she wished to take alone. While -busy with her arrangements, she said, “Have you heard the news, madam?” - -“What news?” - -“Only that Sebastian is going to be shot with arrows to-morrow morning. -What a pity; he was such a handsome youth!” - -“Be silent, Afra; unless you have some information to give me on the -subject.” - -“Oh, of course, my mistress; and my information is indeed very -astonishing. Do you know that he turns out to be one of those wretched -Christians?” - -“Hold your peace, I pray you, and do not prate any more about what you -do not understand.” - -“Certainly not, if you so wish it; I suppose his fate is quite a matter -of indifference to you, madam. It certainly is to _me_. He won’t be the -first officer that my countrymen have shot. Many they have killed, and -some they have saved. But of course that was all chance.” - -There was a significance in her words and tones, which did not escape -the quick ear and mind of Fabiola. She looked up, for the first time, -and fixed her eyes searchingly on her maid’s swarthy face. There was no -emotion in it; she was placing a flagon of wine upon the table, just as -if she had not spoken. At length the lady said to her: - -“Afra, what do you mean?” - -“Oh, nothing, nothing. What can a poor slave know? Still more, what can -she do?” - -“Come, come, you meant by your words something that I must know.” - -The slave came round the table, close to the couch on which Fabiola -rested, looked behind her, and around her, then whispered, “Do you want -Sebastian’s life preserved?” - -Fabiola almost leaped up, as she replied, “Certainly.” - -The servant put her finger to her lip, to enforce silence, and said, “It -will cost dear.” - -“Name your price.” - -“A hundred _sestertia_,[184] and my liberty.” - -“I accept your terms; but what is my security for them?” - -“They shall be binding only if, twenty-four hours after the execution, -he is still alive.” - -“Agreed; and what is yours?” - -“Your word, lady.” - -“Go, Afra, lose not a moment.” - -“There is no hurry,” quietly replied the slave, as she completed, -unflurried, the preparations for supper. - -She then proceeded at once to the palace, and to the Mauritanian -quarters, and went in directly to the commander. - -“What dost thou want, Jubala,” he said, “at this hour? There is no -festival to-night.” - -“I know, Hyphax; but I have important business with thee.” - -“What is it about?” - -“About thee, about myself, and about thy prisoner.” - -“Look at _him_ there,” said the barbarian, pointing across the court, -which his door commanded. “You would not think that _he_ is going to be -shot to-morrow. See how soundly he sleeps. He could not do so better, if -he were going to be married instead.” - -“As thou and I, Hyphax, intend to be the next day.” - -“Come, not quite so fast; there are certain conditions to be fulfilled -first.” - -“Well, what are they?” - -“First, thy manumission. I cannot marry a slave.” - -“That is secured.” - -“Secondly, a dowry, a _good_ dowry, mind; for I never wanted money more -than now.” - -“That is safe too. How much dost thou expect?” - -“Certainly not less than three hundred pounds.”[185] - -“I bring thee six hundred.” - -“Excellent! where didst thou get all this cash? Whom hast thou robbed? -whom hast thou poisoned, my admirable priestess? Why wait till _after_ -to-morrow? Let it be to-morrow, to-night, if it please thee.” - -“Be quiet now, Hyphax; the money is all lawful gain; but it has its -conditions, too. I said I came to speak about the prisoner also.” - -“Well, what has he to do with our approaching nuptials?” - -“A great deal.” - -“What now?” - -“He must not die.” - -The captain looked at her with a mixture of fury and stupidity. He -seemed on the point of laying violent hands on her; but she stood -intrepid and unmoved before him, and seemed to command him by the strong -fascination of her eye, as one of the serpents of their native land -might do a vulture. - -“Art mad?” he at last exclaimed; “thou mightest as well at once ask for -my head. If thou hadst seen the emperor’s face, when he issued his -orders, thou wouldst have known he will have no trifling with him here.” - -“Pshaw! pshaw! man; of course the prisoner will appear dead, and will be -reported as dead.” - -“And if he finally recover?” - -“His fellow-Christians will take care to keep him out of the way.” - -“Didst thou say twenty-four hours alive? I wish thou hadst made it -twelve.” - -“Well, but I know that thou canst calculate close. Let him die in the -twenty-fifth hour, for what I care.” - -“It is impossible, Jubala, impossible; he is too important a person.” - -“Very well, then; there is an end to our bargain. The money is given -only on this condition. Six hundred pounds thrown away!” And she turned -off to go. - -“Stay, stay,” said Hyphax, eagerly; the demon of covetousness coming -uppermost. “Let us see. Why, my fellows will consume half the money, in -bribes and feasting.” - -“Well, I have two hundred more in reserve for that.” - -“Sayest thou so, my princess, my sorceress, my charming demon? But that -will be too much for my scoundrels. We will give them half, and add the -other half--to our marriage-settlements, shan’t we?” - -“As it pleases thee, provided the thing is done according to my -proposal.” - -“It is a bargain, then. He shall live twenty-four hours; and after that, -we will have a glorious wedding.” - -Sebastian, in the meantime, was unconscious of these amiable -negotiations for his safety; for, like Peter between two guards, he was -slumbering soundly by the wall of the court. Fatigued with his day’s -work, he had enjoyed the rare advantage of retiring early to rest; and -the marble pavement was a good enough soldier’s bed. But, after a few -hours’ repose, he awoke refreshed; and now that all was hushed, he -silently rose, and with outstretched arms, gave himself up to prayer. - -The martyr’s prayer is not a preparation for death; for his is a death -that needs no preparation. The soldier who suddenly declares himself a -Christian, bends down his head, and mingles his blood with that of the -confessor, whom he had come to execute; or the friend, of unknown name, -who salutes the martyr going to death, is seized, and made to bear him -willing company,[186] is as prepared for martyrdom, as he who has passed -months in prison engaged in prayer. It is not a cry, therefore, for the -forgiveness of past sin; for there is a consciousness of that perfect -love, which sendeth out fear, an inward assurance of that highest grace, -which is incompatible with sin. - -Nor in Sebastian was it a prayer for courage or strength; for the -opposite feeling, which could suggest it, was unknown to him. It never -entered into his mind to doubt, that as he had faced death intrepidly -for his earthly sovereign on the battle-field, so he should meet it -joyfully for his heavenly Lord, in any place. - -His prayer, then, till morning, was a gladsome hymn of glory and honor -to the King of kings, a joining with the seraph’s glowing eyes, and -ever-shaking wings, in restless homage. - -Then when the stars in the bright heavens caught his eyes, he challenged -them as wakeful sentinels like himself, to exchange the watchword of -Divine praises; and as the night-wind rustled in the leafless trees of -the neighboring court of Adonis, he bade its wayward music compose -itself, and its rude harping upon the vibrating boughs form softer -hymns,--the only ones that earth could utter in its winter night-hours. - -Now burst on him the thrilling thought that the morning hour approached, -for the cock had crowed; and he would soon hear those branches murmuring -over him to the sharp whistle of flying arrows, unerring in their aim. -And he offered himself gladly to their sharp tongues, hissing as the -serpent’s, to drink his blood. He offered himself as an oblation for -God’s honor, and for the appeasing of his wrath. He offered himself -particularly for the afflicted Church, and prayed that his death might -mitigate her sufferings. - -And then his thoughts rose higher, from the earthly to the celestial -Church; soaring like the eagle from the highest pinnacle of the -mountain-peak, towards the sun. Clouds have rolled away, and the blue -embroidered veil of morning is rent in twain, like the sanctuary’s, and -he sees quite into its revealed depths; far, far inwards, beyond senates -of saints and legions of angels, to what Stephen saw of inmost and -intensest glory. And now his hymn was silent; harmonies came to him, too -sweet and perfect to brook the jarring of a terrestrial voice; they came -to him, requiring no return; for they brought heaven into his soul; and -what could he give back? It was as a fountain of purest refreshment, -more like gushing light than water, flowing from the foot of the Lamb, -and poured into his heart, which could only be passive, and receive the -gift. Yet in its sparkling bounds, as it rippled along towards him, he -could see the countenance now of one, and then of another of the happy -friends who had gone before him; as if they were drinking, and bathing, -and disporting, and plunging, and dissolving themselves in those living -waters. - -His countenance was glowing as with the very reflection of the vision, -and the morning dawn just brightening (oh, what a dawn that is!), caught -his face as he stood up, with his arms in a cross, opposite the east; so -that when Hyphax opened his door and saw him, he could have crept across -the court and worshipped him on his face. - -Sebastian awoke as from a trance; and the chink of sesterces sounded in -the mental ears of Hyphax; so he set scientifically about earning them. -He picked out of his troop of a hundred, five marksmen, who could split -a flying arrow with a fleeter one, called them into his room, told them -their reward, concealing his own share, and arranged how the execution -was to be managed. As to the body, Christians had already secretly -offered a large additional sum for its delivery, and two slaves were to -wait outside to receive it. Among his own followers he could fully -depend on secrecy. - -Sebastian was conducted into the neighboring court of the palace, which -separated the quarters of these African archers from his own dwelling. -It was planted with rows of trees, and consecrated to Adonis. He walked -cheerfully in the midst of his executioners, followed by the whole band, -who were alone allowed to be spectators, as they would have been of an -ordinary exhibition of good archery. The officer was stripped and bound -to a tree, while the chosen five took their stand opposite, cool and -collected. It was at best a desolate sort of death. Not a friend, not a -sympathizer near; not one fellow-Christian to bear his farewell to the -faithful, or to record for them his last accents, and the constancy of -his end. To stand in the middle of the crowded amphitheatre, with a -hundred thousand witnesses of Christian constancy, to see the -encouraging looks of many, and hear the whispered blessings of a few -loving acquaintances, had something cheering, and almost inspiring in -it; it lent at least the feeble aid of human emotions, to the more -powerful sustainment of grace. The very shout of an insulting multitude -put a strain upon natural courage, as the hunter’s cry only nerves the -stag at bay. But this dead and silent scene, at dawn of day, shut up in -the court of a house; this being, with most unfeeling indifference tied -up, like a truss of hay, or a stuffed figure, to be coolly aimed at, -according to the tyrant’s orders; this being alone in the midst of a -horde of swarthy savages, whose very language was strange, uncouth, and -unintelligible; but who were no doubt uttering their rude jokes, and -laughing, as men do before a match or a game, which they are going to -enjoy; all this had more the appearance of a piece of cruelty, about to -be acted in a gloomy forest by banditti, than open and glorious -confession of Christ’s name; it looked and felt more like assassination -than martyrdom. - -But Sebastian cared not for all this. Angels looked over the wall upon -him; and the rising sun, which dazzled his eyes, but made him a clearer -mark for his bowmen, shone not more brightly on him, than did the -countenance of the only Witness he cared to have of suffering endured -for His sake. - -The first Moor drew his bow-string to his ear, and an arrow trembled in -the flesh of Sebastian. Each chosen marksman followed in turn; and -shouts of applause accompanied each hit, so cleverly approaching, yet -avoiding, according to the imperial order, every vital part. And so the -game went on; every body laughing, and brawling, and jeering, and -enjoying it without a particle of feeling for the now drooping frame, -painted with blood;[187] all in sport, except the martyr, to whom all -was sober earnest--each sharp pang, the enduring smart, the exhaustion, -the weariness, the knotty bonds, the constrained attitude! Oh! but -earnest too was the steadfast heart, the untiring spirit, the unwavering -faith, the unruffled patience, the unsated love of suffering for his -Lord. Earnest was the prayer, earnest the gaze of the eye on heaven, -earnest the listening of the ear for the welcoming strain of the -heavenly porters, as they should open the gate. - -It was indeed a dreary death; yet this was not the worst. After all, -death came not; the golden gates remained unbarred; the martyr in heart, -still reserved for greater glory even upon earth, found himself, not -suddenly translated from death to life, but sunk into unconsciousness in -the lap of angels. His tormentors saw when they had reached their -intended measure; they cut the cords that bound him; and Sebastian fell -exhausted, and to all appearance dead, upon the carpet of blood which he -had spread for himself on the pavement. Did he lie, like a noble -warrior, as he now appears in marble under his altar, in his own dear -church? We at least cannot imagine him as more beautiful. And not only -that church do we love, but that ancient chapel which stands in the -midst of the ruined Palatine, to mark the spot on which he fell.[188] - -[Illustration: Elias carried up to Heaven, from a picture found in the -Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -THE REVIVAL. - - -Night was far advanced, when the black slave, having completed her -marriage settlement quite to her own satisfaction, was returning to her -mistress’s house. It was, indeed, a cold wintry night, so she was well -wrapped up, and in no humor to be disturbed. But it was a lovely night, -and the moon seemed to be stroking, with a silvery hand, the downy robe -of the _meta sudans_.[189] She paused beside it; and, after a silence of -some moments, broke out into a loud laugh, as if some ridiculous -recollection connected itself in her mind with that beautiful object. -She was turning round to proceed on her way, when she felt herself -roughly seized by the arm. - -“If you had not laughed,” said her captor, bitterly, “I should not have -recognized you. But that hyena laugh of yours is unmistakable. Listen, -the wild beasts, your African cousins, are answering it from the -amphitheatre. What was it about, pray?” - -“About you.” - -“How about me?” - -“I was thinking of our last interview in this place, and what a fool you -made of yourself.” - -“How kind of you, Afra, to be thinking of me, especially as I was not -just then thinking of you, but of your countrymen in those cells.” - -“Cease your impertinence, and call people by their proper names. I am -not Afra the slave any longer; at least I shall not be so in a few -hours; but Jubala, the wife of Hyphax, commander of the Mauritanian -archers.” - -“A very respectable man, no doubt, if he could speak any language -besides his gibberish; but these few hours of interval may suffice for -the transaction of our business. You made a mistake, methinks, in what -you said just now. It was _you_, was it not, that made a fool of me at -our last meeting? What has become of your fair promises, and of my -fairer gold, which were exchanged on that occasion? Mine, I know, proved -sterling; yours, I fear, turned out but dust.” - -“No doubt; for so says a proverb in my language: ‘the dust on a wise -man’s skirts is better than the gold in the fool’s girdle.’ But let us -come to the point; did you really ever believe in the power of my charms -and philters?” - -“To be sure I did; do you mean they were all imposture?” - -“Not quite all; you see we have got rid of Fabius, and the daughter is -in possession of the fortune. That was a preliminary step of absolute -necessity.” - -“What! do you mean that your incantations removed the father?” asked -Corvinus, amazed, and shrinking from her. It was only a sudden bright -thought of Afra’s, so she pushed her advantage, saying: - -“To be sure; what else? It is easy thus to get rid of any one that is -too much in the way.” - -“Good night, good night,” he replied in great fear. - -“Stay a moment,” she answered, somewhat propitiated: “Corvinus, I gave -you two pieces of advice worth all your gold that night. One you have -acted against; the other you have not followed.” - -“How?” - -“Did I not tell you not to hunt the Christians, but to catch them in -your toils? Fulvius has done the second, and has gained something. You -have done the first, and what have you earned?” - -“Nothing but rage, confusion, and stripes.” - -“Then I was a good counsellor in the one advice; follow me in the -second.” - -“What was it?” - -“When you had become rich enough by Christian spoil, to offer yourself, -with your wealth, to Fabiola. She has till now coldly rejected every -offer; but I have observed one thing carefully. Not a single suit has -been accompanied by riches. Every spendthrift has sought her fortune to -repair his own; depend upon it, he that wins the prize must come on the -principle that two and two make four. Do you understand me?” - -“Too well, for where are my two to come from?” - -“Listen to me, Corvinus, for this is our last interview; and I rather -like you, as a hearty, unscrupulous, relentless, and unfeeling good -hater.” She drew him nearer and whispered: “I know from Eurotas, out of -whom I can wheedle anything, that Fulvius has some splendid Christian -prizes in view, one especially. Come this way into the shadow, and I -will tell you how surely you may intercept his treasure. Leave to him -the cool murder that will be necessary, for it may be troublesome; but -step in between him and the spoil. He would do it to you any day.” - -She spoke to him for some minutes in a low and earnest tone; and at the -end, he broke out into the loud exclamation, “Excellent!” What a word in -such a mouth! - -She checked him by a pull, and pointing to the building opposite, -exclaimed: “Hush! look there!” - -How are the tables turned; or, rather, how has the world gone round in -a brief space! The last time these two wicked beings were on the same -spot, plotting bane to others, the window above was occupied by two -virtuous youths, who, like two spirits of good, were intent on -unravelling their web of mischief, and countermining their dark -approaches. They are gone thence, the one sleeping in his tomb, the -other slumbering on the eve of execution. Death looks to us like a holy -power, seeing how much he prefers taking to his society the good, rather -than the evil. He snatches away the flower, and leaves the weed its -poisonous life, till it drops into mature decay. - -But at the moment that they looked up, the window was occupied by two -other persons. - -“That is Fulvius,” said Corvinus, “who just came to the window.” - -“And the other is his evil demon, Eurotas,” added the slave. They both -watched and listened from their dark nook. - -Fulvius came again, at that moment, to the window, with a sword in his -hand, carefully turning and examining the hilt in the bright moonlight. -He flung it down at last, exclaiming with an oath, “It is only brass, -after all.” - -Eurotas came with, to all appearance, a rich officer’s belt, and -examined it carefully. “All false stones! Why, I declare the whole of -the effects are not worth fifty pounds. You have made but a poor job of -this, Fulvius.” - -“Always reproaching me, Eurotas. And yet this miserable gain has cost me -the life of one of the emperor’s most favorite officers.” - -“And no thanks probably from your master for it.” Eurotas was right. - -Next morning, the slaves who received the body of Sebastian were -surprised by a swarthy female figure passing by them, and whispering to -them, “He is still alive.” - -Instead, therefore, of carrying him out for burial, they bore him to the -apartment of Irene. The early hour of the morning, and the emperor’s -having gone, the evening before, to his favorite Lateran palace, -facilitated this movement. Instantly Dionysius was sent for, and he -pronounced every wound curable; not one arrow having touched a vital -organ. But loss of blood had taken place to such a fearful extent, that -he considered weeks must elapse before the patient would be fit to move. - -For four-and-twenty hours Afra assiduously called, almost every hour, to -ask how Sebastian was. When the probationary term was finished, she -conducted Fabiola to Irene’s apartment, to receive herself assurance -that he breathed, though scarcely more. The deed of her liberation from -servitude was executed, her dowry was paid, and the whole Palatine and -Forum rung with the mad carouse and hideous rites of her nuptials. - -Fabiola inquired after Sebastian with such tender solicitude that Irene -doubted not that she was a Christian. The first few times she contented -herself with receiving intelligence at the door, and putting into the -hands of Sebastian’s hostess a large sum towards the expenses of his -recovery; but after two days, when he was improving, she was courteously -invited to enter; and, for the first time in her life, she found herself -consciously in the bosom of a Christian family. - -Irene, we are told, was the widow of Castulus, one of the Chromatian -band of converts. Her husband had just suffered death; but she remained -still, unnoticed, in the apartments held by him in the palace. Two -daughters lived with her; and a marked difference in their behavior soon -struck Fabiola, as she became familiar with them. One evidently thought -Sebastian’s presence an intrusion, and seldom or never approached him. -Her behavior to her mother was rude and haughty, her ideas all belonged -to the common - -[Illustration: _Triumphal Arch of Severus._ - -_Temple of Saturn._ - -_Ascent to the Capitol._ - -_Temple of Vespasian._ - -_Temple of Concordia._ - -_Mamertine Prison._ - -The Northwest Side of the Forum.] - -world,--she was selfish, light, and forward. The other, who was the -younger, was a perfect contrast to her,--so gentle, docile and -affectionate; so considerate about others; so devoted to her mother; so -kind and attentive to the poor patient. Irene herself was a type of the -Christian matron, in the middle class of life. Fabiola did not find her -intelligent, or learned, or witty, or highly polished; but she saw her -always calm, active, sensible, and honest. Then she was clearly -warm-hearted, generous, deeply affectionate, and sweetly patient. The -pagan lady had never seen such a household,--so simple, frugal, and -orderly. Nothing disturbed it, except the character of the elder sister. -In a few days it was ascertained that the daily visitor was not a -Christian; but this caused no change in their treatment of her. Then she -in her turn made a discovery which mortified her--that the elder -daughter was still heathen. All that she saw made a favorable impression -on her, and softened the hard crust of prejudice on her mind. For the -present, however, her thoughts were all absorbed in Sebastian, whose -recovery was slow. She formed plans with Irene for carrying him off to -her Campanian villa, where she would have leisure to confer with him on -religion. An insuperable obstacle, however, rose to this project. - -We will not attempt to lead our reader into the feelings of Sebastian. -To have yearned after martyrdom, to have prayed for it, to have suffered -all its pangs, to have died in it as far as human consciousness went, to -have lost sight of this world, and now to awaken in it again, no martyr, -but an ordinary wayfaring man on probation, who might yet lose -salvation,--was surely a greater trial than martyrdom itself. It was to -be like a man who, in the midst of a stormy night, should try to cross -an angry river, or tempestuous arm of the sea, and, after struggling for -hours, and having his skiff twirled round and round and all but upset, -should find himself relanded on the same side as he started from. Or, -it was like St. Paul sent back to earth and to Satan’s buffets, after -having heard the mysterious words which only one Intelligence can utter. -Yet no murmur escaped him, no regret. He adored in silence the Divine -Will, hoping that its purpose was only to give him the merit of a double -martyrdom. For this second crown he so earnestly longed, that he -rejected every proposal for flight and concealment. - -“I have now,” he generously said, “earned one privilege of a martyr, -that of speaking boldly to the persecutors. This I will use the first -day that I can leave my bed. Nurse me, therefore, well, that it may be -the sooner.” - -[Illustration: Moses receiving the Law, from a picture in the Cemetery -of “Inter duos Lauros.”] - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -THE SECOND CROWN. - - -The memorable plot which the black slave betrayed to Corvinus, was one -to which allusion has already been made, in the conversation between -Fulvius and his guardian. He was convinced from the blind martyr’s -unsuspecting admissions, that Agnes was a Christian, and he believed he -had now two strings to his bow; either he could terrify her into -marriage with himself, or he could destroy her, and obtain a good share -of her wealth by confiscation. He was nerved for this second alternative -by the taunts and exhortations of Eurotas; but, despairing of obtaining -another interview, he wrote her a respectful, but pressing letter, -descriptive of his disinterested attachment to her, and entreating her -to accept his suit. There was but the faintest hint at the end, that -duty might compel him to take another course, if humble petition did not -prevail. - -To this application he received a calm, well-bred, but unmistakable -refusal; a stern, final, and hopeless rejection. But more, the letter -stated in clear terms, that the writer was already espoused to the -spotless Lamb, and could admit from no perishable being expressions of -personal attachment. This rebuff steeled his heart against pity; but he -determined to act prudently. - -In the meantime, Fabiola, seeing the determination of Sebastian not to -fly, conceived the romantic idea of saving him, in spite of himself, by -extorting his pardon from the emperor. She did not know the depth of -wickedness in man’s heart. She thought the tyrant might fume for a -moment, but that he would never condemn a man twice to death. Some pity -and mercy, she thought, must linger in his breast; and her earnest -pleading and tears would extract them, as heat does the hidden balsam -from the hard wood. She accordingly sent a petition for an audience; and -knowing the covetousness of the man, presumed, as she said, to offer him -a slight token of her own and her late father’s loyal attachment. This -was a ring with jewels of rare beauty, and immense value. The present -was accepted; but she was merely told to attend with her memorial at the -Palatine on the 20th, in common with other petitioners, and wait for the -emperor’s descent by the great staircase, on his way to sacrifice. -Unencouraging as was this answer, she resolved to risk any thing, and do -her best. - -The appointed day came; and Fabiola, in her mourning habits, worn both -as a suppliant, and for her father’s death, took her stand in a row of -far more wretched creatures than herself, mothers, children, sisters, -who held petitions for mercy, for those clearest to them, now in -dungeons or mines. She felt the little hope she had entertained die -within her at the sight of so much wretchedness, too much for it all to -expect favor. But fainter grew its last spark, at every step that the -tyrant took down the marble stairs, though she saw her brilliant ring -sparkling on his coarse hand. For on each step he snatched a paper from -some sorrowful suppliant, looked at it scornfully, and either tore it -up, or dashed it on the ground. Only here and there, he handed one to -his secretary, a man scarcely less imperious than himself. - -It was now nearly Fabiola’s turn: the emperor was only two steps above -her, and her heart beat violently, not from fear of man, but from -anxiety about Sebastian’s fate. She would have prayed, had she known -how, or to whom. Maximian was stretching out his hand to take a paper -offered to him, when he drew back, and turned round, on hearing his name -most unceremoniously and peremptorily called out. Fabiola looked up too; -for she knew the voice. - -Opposite to her, high in the white marble wall, she had observed an open -window, corniced in yellow marble, which gave light to a back corridor -leading to where Irene’s apartments were. She now looked up, guided by -the voice, and in the dark panel of the window, a beautiful but awful -picture was seen. It was Sebastian, wan and thin, who, with features -almost etherealized, calm and stern, as if no longer capable of passion, -or strong emotion, stood there before them; his lacerated breast and -arms appearing amidst the loose drapery he had thrown around him. For he -had heard the familiar trumpet-notes, which told him of the emperor’s -approach, and he had risen, and crept thus far, to greet him.[190] - -“Maximian!” he cried out, in a hollow but distinct voice. - -“Who art thou, sirrah! that makest so free with thine emperor’s name?” -asked the tyrant, turning upon him. - -“I am come as from the dead, to warn thee that the day of wrath and -vengeance is fast approaching. Thou hast spilt the blood of God’s Saints -upon the pavement of this city; thou hast cast their holy bodies into -the river, or flung them away upon the dunghills at the gates. Thou hast -pulled down God’s temples, and profaned His altars, and rifled the -inheritance of His poor. For these, and thine own foul crimes and -lewdnesses, thine injustices and oppressions, thy covetousness and thy -pride, God hath judged thee, and His wrath shall soon overtake thee; and -thou shalt die the death of the violent; and God will give His Church an -emperor after His own heart. And thy memory shall be accursed through -the whole world, till the end of time. Repent thee, while thou hast -time, impious man; and ask forgiveness of God, in the name of Him, the -Crucified, whom thou hast persecuted till now.” - -Deep silence was held while these words were fully uttered. The emperor -seemed under the influence of a paralyzing awe; for soon recognizing -Sebastian, he felt as if standing in the presence of the dead. But -quickly recovering himself and his passion, he exclaimed: “Ho! some of -you, go round instantly and bring him before me” (he did not like to -pronounce his name). “Hyphax here! Where is Hyphax? I saw him just now.” - -But the Moor had at once recognized Sebastian, and run off to his -quarters. “Ha! he is gone, I see; then here, you dolt, what’s your -name?” (addressing Corvinus, who was attending his father,) “go to the -Numidian court, and summon Hyphax here directly.” - -With a heavy heart Corvinus went on his errand. Hyphax had told his -tale, and put his men in order of defence. Only one entrance at the end -of the court was left open; and when the messenger had reached it, he -durst not advance. Fifty men stood along each side of the space, with -Hyphax and Jubala at the opposite end. Silent and immovable, with their -dark chests and arms bare, each with his arrow fixed, and pointed to the -door, and the string ready drawn, they looked like an avenue of basalt -statues, leading to an Egyptian temple. - -“Hyphax,” said Corvinus, in a tremulous voice, “the emperor sends for -you.” - -“Tell his majesty, respectfully, from me,” replied the African, “that -my men have sworn, that no man passes that threshold, coming in, or -going out, without receiving, through his breast or his back, a hundred -shafts into his heart; until the emperor shall have sent us a token of -forgiveness for every offence.” - -Corvinus hastened back with this message, and the emperor received it -with a laugh. They were men with whom he could not afford to quarrel; -for he relied on them in battle, or insurrection, for picking out the -leaders. “The cunning rascals!” he exclaimed. “There, take that trinket -to Hyphax’s black spouse.” And he gave him Fabiola’s splendid ring. He -hastened back, delivered his gracious embassy, and threw the ring -across. In an instant every bow dropt, and every string relaxed. Jubala, -delighted, sprang forward and caught the ring. A heavy blow from her -husband’s fist felled her to the ground, and was greeted with a shout of -applause. The savage seized the jewel; and the woman rose, to fear that -she had only exchanged one slavery for a worse. - -Hyphax screened himself behind the imperial command. “If,” he said, “you -had allowed us to send an arrow through his head or heart, all would -have been straight. As it was, we are not responsible.” - -“At any rate, I will myself see my work done properly this time,” said -Maximian. “Two of you fellows with clubs come here.” - -Two of his attendant executioners came from behind; Sebastian, scarcely -able to stand, was also there; mild and intrepid. “Now, my men,” said -the barbarian, “I must not have any blood spilt on these stairs; so you -knock the life out of him with your cudgels; make clean work of it. -Madam, what is your petition?”--stretching out his hand, to Fabiola, -whom he recognized, and so addressed more respectfully. She was -horrified and disgusted, and almost fainting at the sight before her; -so she said, “Sire, I fear it is too late!” - -“Why too late?” looking at the paper. A flash came from his eye, as he -said to her: “What! You knew that Sebastian was alive? Are you a -Christian?” - -“No, sire,” she replied. Why did the denial almost dry up in her throat? -She could not for her life have said she was any thing else. Ah! -Fabiola, thy day is not far off. - -“But, as you said just now,” replied the emperor, more serene, returning -her petition, “I fear it is too late; I think that blow must have been -the _ictus gratiosus_.”[191] - -“I feel faint, sire,” said she, respectfully; “may I retire?” - -“By all means. But, by the bye, I have to thank you for the beautiful -ring which you sent, and which I have given to Hyphax’s wife” (lately -her own slave!). “It will look more brilliant on a black hand than even -on mine. Adieu!” and he kissed his hand with a wicked smile, as if there -were no martyr’s body near to witness against him. He was right; a heavy -blow on the head had proved fatal; and Sebastian was safe where he had -so longed to be. He bore with him a double palm, and received a twofold -crown. Yet still, an ignominious end before the world; beaten to death -without ceremony, while the emperor conversed. How much of martyrdom is -in its disgrace! Woe to us when we know that our sufferings earn us -honor! - -The tyrant, seeing his work completed, ordered that Sebastian at least -should not be cast into the Tiber nor on a dunghill. “Put plenty of -weights to his body,” he added, “and throw it into the Cloaca,[192] to -rot there, and be the food of vermin. The Christians at least shall not -have it.” This was done; and the Saint’s Acts inform us, that in the -night he appeared to the holy matron Lucina, and directed her where to -find his sacred remains. She obeyed his summons, and they were buried -with honor, where now stands his basilica. - -[Illustration: Christ blessing a Child, from a picture in the Cemetery -of the Latin Way.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -THE CRITICAL DAY: ITS FIRST PART. - - -There are critical days in the life of man and of mankind. Not merely -the days of Marathon, of Cannæ, or of Lepanto, in which a different -result might have influenced the social or political fate of mankind. -But it is probable that Columbus could look back upon not only the day, -but the precise hour, the decision of which secured to the world all -that he taught and gave it, and to himself the singular place which he -holds among its worthies. And each of us, little and insignificant as he -may be, has had his critical day; his day of choice, which has decided -his fate through life; his day of Providence, which altered his position -or his relations to others; his day of grace, when the spiritual -conquered the material. In whatever way it has been, every soul, like -Jerusalem,[193] has had _its_ day. - -And so with Fabiola, has not all been working up towards a crisis? -Emperor and slave, father and guest, the good and the wicked, Christian -and heathen, rich and poor; then life and death, joy and sorrow, -learning and simplicity, silence and conversation, have they not all -come as agents, pulling at her mind in opposite ways, yet all directing -her noble and generous, though haughty and impetuous, soul one way, as -the breeze and the rudder struggle against one another, only to -determine the ship’s single path? By what shall the resolution of these -contending forces be determined? That rests not with man; wisdom, not -philosophy, can decide. We have been engaged with events commemorated on -the 20th of January; let the reader look, and see what comes on the -following day in his calendar, and he will agree it must be an important -day in our little narrative. - -From the audience Fabiola retired to the apartments of Irene, where she -found nothing but desolation and sorrow. She sympathized fully with the -grief around her, but she saw and felt that there was a difference -between her affliction and theirs. There was a buoyancy about them; -there was almost an exultation breaking out through their distress; -their clouds were sun-lit and brightened at times. Hers was a dead and -sullen, a dull and heavy gloom, as if she had sustained a hopeless loss. -Her search after Christianity, as associated with anything amiable or -intelligent, seemed at an end. Her desired teacher, or informant, was -gone. When the crowd had moved away from the palace, she took -affectionate leave of the widow and her daughters; but, some way or -other, she could not like the heathen one as she loved her sister. - -She sat alone at home, and tried to read; she took up volume after -volume of favorite works on Death, on Fortitude, on Friendship, on -Virtue; and every one of them seemed insipid, unsound, and insincere. -She plunged into a deeper and a deeper melancholy, which lasted till -towards evening, when she was disturbed by a letter being put into her -hand. The Greek slave, Graja, who brought it in, retired to the other -end of the room, alarmed and perplexed by what she witnessed. For her -mistress had scarcely glanced over the note, than she leaped up wildly -from her seat, threw her hair into disorder with her hands, which she -pressed, as in agony, on her temples, stood thus for a moment, looking -up with an unnatural stare in her eyes, and then sank heavily down again -on her chair with a deep groan. Thus she remained for some minutes, -holding the letter in both her hands, with her arms relaxed, apparently -unconscious. - -“Who brought this letter?” she then asked, quite collected. - -“A soldier, madam,” answered the maid. - -“Ask him to come here.” - -While her errand was being delivered, she composed herself, and gathered -up her hair. As soon as the soldier appeared she held this brief -dialogue: - -“Whence do you come?” - -“I am on guard at the Tullian prison.” - -“Who gave you the letter?” - -“The Lady Agnes herself.” - -“On what cause is the poor child there?” - -“On the accusation of a man named Fulvius, for being a Christian.” - -“For nothing else?” - -“For nothing, I am sure.” - -“Then we shall soon set that matter right. I can give witness to the -contrary. Tell her I will come presently; and take this for your -trouble.” - -The soldier retired, and Fabiola was left alone. When there was -something to do her mind was at once energetic and concentrated, though -afterwards the tenderness of womanhood might display itself the more -painfully. She wrapped herself close up, proceeded alone to the prison, -and was at once conducted to the separate cell, which Agnes had obtained -in consideration of her rank, backed by her parents’ handsome -largitions. - -“What is the meaning of this, Agnes?” eagerly inquired Fabiola, after a -warm embrace. - -“I was arrested a few hours ago, and brought hither.” - -“And is Fulvius fool enough, as well as scoundrel, to trump up an -accusation against you, which five minutes will confute? I will go to -Tertullus myself, and contradict his absurd charge at once.” - -“What charge, dearest?” - -“Why, that you are a Christian.” - -“And so I am, thank God!” replied Agnes, making on herself the sign of -the cross. - -The announcement did not strike Fabiola like a thunderbolt, nor rouse -her, nor stagger her, nor perplex her. Sebastian’s death had taken all -edge or heaviness from it. She had found that faith existing in what she -had considered the type of every manly virtue; she was not surprised to -find it in her, whom she had loved as the very model of womanly -perfection. The simple grandeur of that child’s excellence, her -guileless innocence, and unexcepting kindness, she had almost -worshipped. It made Fabiola’s difficulties less, it brought her problem -nearer to a solution, to find two such peerless beings to be not mere -chance-grown plants, but springing from the same seed. She bowed her -head in a kind of reverence for the child, and asked her, “How long have -you been so?” - -“All my life, dear Fabiola; I sucked the faith, as we say, with my -mother’s milk.” - -“And why did you conceal it from me?” - -“Because I saw your violent prejudices against us; how you abhorred us -as practisers of the most ridiculous superstitions, as perpetrators of -the most odious abominations. I perceived how you contemned us as -unintellectual, uneducated, unphilosophical, and unreasonable. You would -not hear a word about us; and the only object of hatred to your generous -mind was the Christian name.” - -“True, dearest Agnes; yet I think that had I known that you, or -Sebastian, was a Christian, I could not have hated it. I could have -loved any thing in you.” - -“You think so now, Fabiola; but you know not the force of universal -prejudice, the weight of falsehood daily repeated. How many noble minds, -fine intellects, and loving hearts have they enslaved, and induced to -believe us to be all that we are not, something even worse than the -worst of others!” - -“Well, Agnes, it is selfish in me to argue thus with you in your present -position. You will of course compel Fulvius to _prove_ that you are a -Christian.” - -“Oh, no! dear Fabiola; I have already confessed it, and intend to do so -again publicly in the morning.” - -“In the morning!--what, to-morrow?” asked Fabiola, shocked at the idea -of any thing so immediate. - -“Yes, to-morrow. To prevent any clamor or disturbance about me (though I -suspect few people will care much), I am to be interrogated early, and -summary proceedings will be taken. Is not that good news, dear?” asked -Agnes eagerly, seizing her cousin’s hands. And then putting on one of -her ecstatic looks, she exclaimed, “Behold, what I have long coveted, I -already see; what I have hoped for, I hold safe; to Him alone I feel -already associated in heaven, whom here on earth I have loved with all -devotedness.[194] Oh! is He not beautiful, Fabiola, lovelier far than -the angels who surround Him! How sweet His smile! how mild His eye! how -bland the whole expression of His face! And that sweetest and most -gracious Lady, who ever accompanies Him, our Queen and Mistress, who -loves Him alone, how winningly doth she beckon me forward to join her -train! I come! I come!--They are departed, Fabiola; but they return -early for me to-morrow; early, mind, and we part no more.” - -Fabiola felt her own heart swell and heave, as if a new element were -entering in. She knew not what it was, but it seemed something better -than a mere human emotion. She had not yet heard the name of Grace. -Agnes, however, saw the favorable change in her spirit, and inwardly -thanked God for it. She begged her cousin to return before dawn to her, -for their final farewell. - -At this same time a consultation was being held at the house of the -prefect, between that worthy functionary and his worthier son. The -reader had better listen to it, to learn its purport. - -“Certainly,” said the magistrate, “if the old sorceress was right in one -thing, she ought to be in the other. I will answer, from experience, how -powerful is wealth in conquering any resistance.” - -“And you will allow, too,” rejoined Corvinus, “from the enumeration we -have made, that among the competitors for Fabiola’s hand, there has not -been one who could not justly be rather called an aspirant after her -fortune.” - -“Yourself included, my dear Corvinus.” - -“Yes, so far: but not if I succeed in offering her, with myself, the -lady Agnes’s great wealth.” - -“And in a manner too, methinks, that will more easily gain upon what I -hear of her generous and lofty disposition. Giving her that wealth -independent of conditions, and then offering yourself to her, will put -her under one of two obligations, either to accept you as her husband, -or throw you back the fortune.” - -“Admirable, father! I never saw the second alternative before. Do you -think there is no possibility of securing it except through her?” - -“None whatever. Fulvius, of course, will apply for his share; and the -probability is, that the emperor will declare he intends to take it all -for himself. For he hates Fulvius. But if I propose a more popular and -palpably reasonable plan, of giving the property to the nearest -relation, who worships the gods--this Fabiola does, don’t she?” - -“Certainly, father.” - -“I think he will embrace it: while I am sure there is no chance of his -making a free gift to me. The proposal from a judge would enrage him.” - -“Then how will you manage it, father?” - -“I will have an imperial rescript prepared during the night, ready for -signature; and I will proceed immediately after the execution to the -palace, magnify the unpopularity which is sure to follow it, lay it all -on Fulvius, and show the emperor how his granting the property to the -next in the settlement of it, will redound greatly to his credit and -glory. He is as vain as he is cruel and rapacious; and one vice must be -made to fight another.” - -“Nothing could be better, my dear father; I shall retire to rest with an -easy mind. To-morrow will be the critical day of my life. All my future -depends upon whether I am accepted or rejected.” - -“I only wish,” added Tertullus, rising, “that I could have seen this -peerless lady, and sounded the depths of her philosophy, before your -final bargain was struck.” - -“Fear not, father: she is well worthy of being your daughter-in-law. -Yes, to-morrow is indeed the turning-point of my fortunes.” - -Even Corvinus can have his critical day. Why not Fabiola? - -While this domestic interview was going on, a conference was taking -place between Fulvius and his amiable uncle. The latter, entering late, -found his nephew sitting sullen and alone in the house, and thus -accosted him: - -“Well, Fulvius, is she secured?” - -“She is, uncle, as fast as bars and walls can make her; but her spirit -is free and independent as ever.” - -“Never mind that: sharp steel makes short work of spirit. Is her fate -certain? and are its consequences sure?” - -“Why, if nothing else happens, the first is safe; the second have still -to encounter imperial caprice. But I own I feel pain and remorse at -sacrificing so young a life, and for an insecure result.” - -“Come, Fulvius,” said the old man sternly, looking as cold as a grey -rock in the morning mist; “no softness, I hope, in this matter. Do you -remember what day is to-morrow?” - -“Yes, the twelfth before the calends of February.”[195] - -“The critical day always for you. It was on this day that to gain -another’s wealth, you committed----” - -“Peace, peace!” interrupted Fulvius in agony. “Why will you always -remind me of every thing I most wish to forget?” - -“Because of this: you wish to forget yourself, and that must not be. I -must take from you every pretence to be guided by conscience, virtue, or -even honor. It is folly to affect compassion for any one’s life, who -stands in the way of your fortune, after what you did to _her_.” - -Fulvius bit his lip in silent rage, and covered his crimson face with -his hands. Eurotas roused him by saying: “Well, then, to-morrow is -another, and probably a final critical day for you. Let us calmly weigh -its prospects. You will go to the emperor, and ask for your rightful -share in the confiscated property. Suppose it is granted?” - -“I will sell it as quick as possible, pay my debts, and retire to some -country where my name has never been heard.” - -“Suppose your claims are rejected?” - -“Impossible, impossible!” exclaimed Fulvius, racked by the very idea; -“it is my right, hardly earned. It cannot be denied me.” - -“Quietly, my young friend; let us discuss the matter coolly. Remember -our proverb: ‘From the stirrup to the saddle there has been many a -fall.’ _Suppose_ only that your rights are refused you.” - -“Then I am a ruined man. I have no other prospect before me, of -retrieving my fortunes here. Still I must fly hence.” - -“Good: and what do you owe at Janus’s arch?”[196] - -“A good couple of hundred sestertia,[197] between principal and compound -interest at fifty per cent, to that unconscionable Jew Ephraim.” - -“On what security?” - -“On my sure expectation of this lady’s estates.” - -“And if you are disappointed, do you think he will let you fly?” - -“Not if he knows it, most assuredly. But we must be prepared from this -moment for any emergency; and that with the utmost secrecy.” - -“Leave that to me, Fulvius; you see how eventful the issue of to-morrow -may be to you, or rather of to-day; for morning is approaching. Life or -death to you hang upon it; it is the great day of your existence. -Courage then, or rather an inflexible determination, steel you to work -out its destiny!” - -[Illustration: A Monogram of Christ, found in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -THE SAME DAY: ITS SECOND PART. - - -The day is not yet dawning, and nevertheless we speak of having reached -its second part. How may this be? Gentle reader, have we not led you to -its first vespers, divided as they are between Sebastian of yesterday, -and Agnes of to-day? Have not the two sung them together, without -jealousy, and with fraternal impartiality, the one from the heaven which -he ascended in the morning, the other from the dungeon into which she -descended in the evening? Glorious Church of Christ! great in the -unclashing combination of thy unity, stretching from heaven to beneath -the earth, wherever exists a prison-house of the just. - -From his lodgings Fulvius went out into the night-air, which was crisp -and sharp, to cool his blood, and still his throbbing brows. He wandered -about, almost without any purpose; but found himself imperceptibly -drawing nearer and nearer to the Tullian prison. As he was literally -without affection, what could be his attraction thither? It was a -strangely compounded feeling, made up of as bitter ingredients as ever -filled the poisoner’s cup. There was gnawing remorse; there was baffled -pride; there was goading avarice; there was humbling shame; there was a -terrible sense of the approaching consummation of his villany. It was -true, he had been rejected, scorned, baffled by a mere child, while her -fortune was necessary for his rescue from beggary and death,--so at -least he reasoned; yet he would still rather have her hand than her -head. Her murder appeared revoltingly atrocious to him, unless -absolutely inevitable. So he would give her another chance. - -He was now at the prison gate, of which he possessed the watchword. He -pronounced it, entered, and, at his desire, was conducted to his -victim’s cell. She did not flutter, nor run into a corner, like a bird -into whose cage the hawk has found entrance; calm and intrepid, she -stood before him. - -“Respect me here, Fulvius, at least,” she gently said; “I have but a few -hours to live: let them be spent in peace.” - -“Madam,” he replied, “I have come to lengthen them, if you please, to -years; and, instead of peace, I offer happiness.” - -“Surely, sir, if I understand you, the time is past for this sad vanity. -Thus to address one whom you have delivered over to death, is at best a -mockery.” - -“It is not so, gentle lady; your fate is in your own hands; only your -own obstinacy will give you over to death. I have come to renew, once -more, my offer, and with it that of life. It is your last chance.” - -“Have I not before told you that I am a Christian; and that I would -forfeit a thousand lives rather than betray my faith?” - -“But now I ask you no longer to do this. The gates of the prison are yet -open to me. Fly with me; and, in spite of the imperial decrees, you -shall be a Christian, and yet live.” - -“Then have I not clearly told you that I am already espoused to my Lord -and Saviour Jesus Christ, and that to Him alone I keep eternal faith?” - -“Folly and madness! Persevere in it till to-morrow, and that may be -awarded to you which you fear more than death, and which will drive this -illusion forever from your mind.” - -“I fear nothing for Christ. For know, that I have an angel ever guarding -me, who will not suffer his Master’s handmaid to suffer scorn.[198] But -now, cease this unworthy importunity, and leave me the last privilege of -the condemned--solitude.” - -Fulvius had been gradually losing patience, and could no longer restrain -his passion. Rejected again, baffled once more by a child, this time -with the sword hanging over her neck! A flame irrepressible broke out -from the smouldering heat within him; and, in an instant, the venomous -ingredients that we have described as mingled in his heart, were -distilled into one black, solitary drop,--HATRED. With flashing look, -and furious gesture, he broke forth: - -“Wretched woman, I give thee one more opportunity of rescuing thyself -from destruction. Which wilt thou have, life with me, or death?” - -“Death even I will choose for her, rather than life with a monster like -thee!” exclaimed a voice just within the door. - -“She shall have it,” he rejoined, clenching his fist, and darting a mad -look at the new speaker; “and thou too, if again thou darest to fling -thy baneful shadow across my path.” - -Fabiola was alone for the last time with Agnes. She had been for some -minutes unobserved watching the contest, between what would have -appeared to her, had she been a Christian, an angel of light and a -spirit of darkness; and truly Agnes looked like the first, if human -creature ever did. In preparation for her coming festival of full -espousals to the Lamb, when she should sign her contract of everlasting -love, as He had done, in blood, she had thrown over the dark garments -of her mourning a white and spotless bridal robe. In the midst of that -dark prison, lighted by a solitary lamp, she looked radiant and almost -dazzling; while her tempter, wrapped up in his dark cloak, crouching -down to rush out of the low door of the dungeon, looked like a black and -vanquished demon, plunging into an abyss beneath. - -Then Fabiola looked into her countenance, and thought she had never seen -it half so sweet. No trace of anger, of fear, of flurry, or agitation -was there; no paleness, no flush, no alternations of hectic excitement -and pallid depression. Her eyes beamed with more than their usual mild -intelligence; her smile was as placid and cheerful as it ever was, when -they discoursed together. Then there was a noble air about her, a -greatness of look and manner, which Fabiola would have compared to that -mien and stateliness, and that ambrosial atmosphere by which, in -poetical mythology, a being of a higher sphere was recognized on -earth.[199] It was not inspiration, for it was passionless; but it was -such expression and manner, as her highest conceptions of virtue and -intellect, combined in the soul, might be supposed to stamp upon the -outward form. Hence her feelings passed beyond love into a higher range; -they were more akin to reverence. - -Agnes took one of her hands in each of her own, crossed them upon her -own calm bosom, and looking into her face with a gaze of blandest -earnestness, said: - -“Fabiola, I have one dying request to make you. You have never refused -me any: I am sure you will not this.” - -“Speak not thus to me, dearest Agnes; you must not request; you command -me now.” - -“Then promise me, that you will immediately apply your mind to master -the doctrines of Christianity. I know you will embrace them; and then -you will no longer be to me what you are now.” - -“And what is that?” - -“Dark, dark, dearest Fabiola. When I look upon you thus, I see in you a -noble intellect, a generous disposition, an affectionate heart, a -cultivated mind, a fine moral feeling, and a virtuous life. What can be -desired more in woman? and yet over all these splendid gifts there hangs -a cloud, to my eyes, of gloomy shadow, the shade of death. Drive it -away, and all will be lightsome and bright.” - -“I feel it, dear Agnes,--I feel it. Standing before you, I seem to be as -a black spot compared to your brightness. And how, embracing -Christianity, shall I become light like you?” - -“You must pass, Fabiola, through the torrent that sunders us” (Fabiola -started, recollecting her dream). “Waters of refreshment shall flow over -your body, and oil of gladness shall embalm your flesh; and the soul -shall be washed clean as driven snow, and the heart be softened as the -babe’s. From that bath you will come forth a new creature, born again to -a new and immortal life.” - -“And shall I lose all that you have but just now prized in me?” asked -Fabiola, somewhat downcast. - -“As the gardener,” answered the martyr, “selects some hardy and robust, -but unprofitable plant, and on it engrafts but a small shoot of one that -is sweet and tender, and the flowers and fruits of this belong to the -first, and yet deprive it of no grace, no grandeur, no strength that it -had before, so will the new life you shall receive ennoble, elevate, and -sanctify (you can scarcely understand this word), the valuable gifts of -nature and education which you already possess. What a glorious being -Christianity will make you, Fabiola!” - -“What a new world you are leading me to, dear Agnes! Oh, that you were -not leaving me outside its very threshold!” - -“Hark!” exclaimed Agnes, in an ecstasy of joy. “They come, they come! -_You_ hear the measured tramp of the soldiers in the gallery. They are -the bridesmen coming to summon me. But I see on high the white-robed -bridesmaids borne on the bright clouds of morning, and beckoning me -forward. Yes, my lamp is trimmed, and I go forth to meet the Bridegroom. -Farewell, Fabiola; weep not for me. Oh, that I could make you feel, as I -do, the happiness of dying for Christ! And now I will speak a word to -you which I never have addressed to you before,--God bless you!” And she -made the sign of the Cross on Fabiola’s forehead. An embrace, convulsive -on Fabiola’s part, calm and tender on Agnes’s, was their last earthly -greeting. The one hastened home, filled with a new and generous purpose; -the other resigned herself to the shame-stricken guard. - -Over the first part of the martyr’s trials we cast a veil of silence, -though ancient Fathers, and the Church in her offices, dwell upon it, as -doubling her crown.[200] Suffice it to say, that her angel protected her -from harm;[201] and that the purity of her presence converted a den of -infamy into a holy and lovely sanctuary.[202] It was still early in the -morning when she stood again before the tribunal of the prefect, in the -Roman Forum; unchanged and unscathed, without a blush upon her smiling -countenance, or a pang of sorrow in her innocent heart. Only her unshorn -hair, the symbol of virginity, which had been let loose, flowed down, -in golden waves, upon her snow-white dress.[203] - -It was a lovely morning. Many will remember it to have been a beautiful -day on its anniversary, as they have walked out of the Nomentan gate, -now the Porta Pia, towards the church which bears our virgin-martyr’s -name, to see blessed upon her altar the two lambs, from whose wool are -made the palliums sent by the Pope to the archbishops of his communion. -Already the almond-trees are hoary, not with frost, but with blossoms; -the earth is being loosened round the vines, and spring seems latent in -the swelling buds, which are watching for the signal from the southern -breeze, to burst and expand.[204] The atmosphere, rising into a -cloudless sky, has just that temperature that one loves, of a sun, -already vigorous, not heating, but softening, the slightly frosty air. -Such we have frequently experienced St. Agnes’s day, together with -joyful thousands, hastening to her shrine. - -The judge was sitting in the open Forum, and a sufficient crowd formed a -circle round the charmed space, which few, save Christians, loved to -enter. Among the spectators were two whose appearance attracted general -attention; they stood opposite each other, at the ends of the semicircle -formed by the multitude. One was a youth, enveloped in his toga, with a -slouching hat over his eyes, so that his features could not be -distinguished. The other was a lady of aristocratic mien, tall and -erect, such as one does not expect to meet on such an occasion. Wrapped -close about her, and so ample as to veil her from head to foot, like the -beautiful ancient statue, known among artists by the name of -Modesty,[205] she had a scarf or mantle of Indian workmanship, woven in -richest pattern of crimson, purple, and gold, a garment truly imperial, -and less suitable, than even female presence, to this place of doom and -blood. A slave, or servant, of superior class attended her, carefully -veiled also, like her mistress. The lady’s mind seemed intent on one -only object, as she stood immovable, leaning with her elbow on a marble -post. - -[Illustration: Chains for the Martyrs, after a picture found in 1841, in -a crypt at Milan.] - -Agnes was introduced by her guards into the open space, and stood -intrepid, facing the tribunal. Her thoughts seemed to be far away; and -she took no notice even of those two who, till she appeared, had been -objects of universal observation. - -“Why is she unfettered?” asked the prefect angrily. - -“She does not need it: she walks so readily,” answered Catulus; “and she -is so young.” - -“But she is obstinate as the oldest. Put manacles on her hands at once.” - -The executioner turned over a quantity of such prison ornaments,--to -Christian eyes really such,--and at length selected a pair as light and -small as he could find, and placed them round her wrists. Agnes -playfully, and with a smile, - -[Illustration: The judge angrily reproved the executioner for his -hesitation, and bid him at once do his duty.] - -shook her hands, and they fell, like St. Paul’s viper, clattering at her -feet.[206] - -“They are the smallest we have, sir,” said the softened executioner: -“one so young ought to wear other bracelets.” - -“Silence, man!” rejoined the exasperated judge, who, turning to the -prisoner, said, in a blander tone: - -“Agnes, I pity thy youth, thy station, and the bad education thou hast -received. I desire, if possible, to save thee. Think better while thou -hast time. Renounce the false and pernicious maxims of Christianity, -obey the imperial edicts, and sacrifice to the gods.” - -“It is useless,” she replied, “to tempt me longer. My resolution is -unalterable. I despise thy false divinities, and can only love and serve -the one living God. Eternal Ruler, open wide the heavenly gates, until -lately closed to man. Blessed Christ, call to Thee the soul that -cleaveth unto Thee: victim first to Thee by virginal consecration; now -to Thy Father by martyrdom’s immolation.”[207] - -“I waste time, I see,” said the impatient prefect, who saw symptoms of -compassion rising in the multitude. “Secretary, write the sentence. We -condemn Agnes, for contempt of the imperial edicts, to be punished by -the sword.” - -“On what road, and at what mile-stone, shall the judgment be -executed?”[208] asked the headsman. - -“Let it be carried into effect at once,” was the reply. - -Agnes raised for one moment her hands and eyes to heaven, then calmly -knelt down. With her own hands she drew forward her silken hair over -her head, and exposed her neck to the blow.[209] A pause ensued, for the -executioner was trembling with emotion, and could not wield his -sword.[210] As the child knelt alone, in her white robe, with her head -inclined, her arms modestly crossed upon her bosom, and her amber locks -hanging almost to the ground, and veiling her features, she might not -unaptly have been compared to some rare plant, of which the slender -stalk, white as the lily, bent with the luxuriancy of its golden -blossom. - -The judge angrily reproved the executioner for his hesitation, and bid -him at once do his duty. The man passed the back of his rough left hand -across his eyes, as he raised his sword. It was seen to flash for an -instant in the air; and the next moment, flower and stem were lying -scarcely displaced on the ground. It might have been taken for the -prostration of prayer, had not the white robe been in that minute dyed -into a rich crimson--washed in the blood of the Lamb. - -The man on the judge’s right hand had looked with unflinching eye upon -the stroke, and his lip curled in a wicked triumph over the fallen. The -lady opposite had turned away her head, till the murmur, that follows a -suppressed breath in a crowd, told her all was over. She then boldly -advanced forward, unwound from round her person her splendid brocaded -mantle, and stretched it as a pall, over the mangled body. A burst of -applause followed this graceful act of womanly feeling,[211] as the lady -stood, now in the garb of deepest mourning, before the tribunal. - -“Sir,” she said in a tone clear and distinct, but full of emotion, -“grant me one petition. Let not the rude hands of - -[Illustration: The Christian Martyr.] - -your servants again touch and profane the hallowed remains of her, whom -I have loved more than any thing on earth; but let me bear them hence to -the sepulchre of her fathers; for she was noble as she was good.” - -Tertullus was manifestly irritated, as he replied: “Madam, whoever you -may be, your request cannot be granted. Catulus, see that the body be -cast, as usual, into the river, or burnt.” - -“I entreat you, sir,” the lady earnestly insisted, “by every claim which -female virtue has upon you, by any tear which a mother has shed over -you, by every soothing word which a sister has ever spoken to you, in -illness or sorrow; by every ministration of their gentle hands, I -implore you to grant my humble prayer. And if, when you return home this -evening, you will be met at the threshold by daughters, who will kiss -your hand, though stained with the blood of one, whom you may feel proud -if they resemble, be able to say to them, at least, that this slightest -tribute to the maidenly delicacy which they prize has not been refused.” - -Such common sympathy was manifested that Tertullus, anxious to check it, -asked her sharply: - -“Pray, are you, too, a Christian?” - -She hesitated for one instant, then replied, “No, sir, I am not; but I -own that if anything could make me one, it would be what I have seen -this day.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“Why, that to preserve the religion of the empire such beings as she -whom you have slain” (her tears interrupted her for a moment) “should -have to die; while monsters who disgrace the shape and name of man -should have to live and flourish. Oh, sir, you know not what you have -blotted out from earth this day! She was the purest, sweetest, holiest -thing I ever knew upon it, the very flower of womanhood, though yet a -child. And she might have lived yet, had she not scorned the proffered -hand of a vile adventurer, who pursued her with his loathsome offers -into the seclusion of her villa, into the sanctuary of her home, and -even into the last retreat of her dungeon. For this she died, that she -would not endow with her wealth, and ennoble by her alliance, that -Asiatic spy.” - -She pointed with calm scorn at Fulvius, who bounded forward, and -exclaimed with fury: “She lies, foully and calumniously, sir. Agnes -openly confessed herself a Christian.” - -“Bear with me, sir,” replied the lady, with noble dignity, “while I -convict him; and look on his face for proof of what I say. Didst thou -not, Fulvius, early this morning, seek that gentle child in her cell, -and deliberately tell her (for unseen, I heard you) that if she would -but accept thy hand, not only wouldst thou save her life, but, despising -the imperial commands, secure her still remaining a Christian?” - -Fulvius stood, pale as death: _stood_, as one does for a moment who is -shot through the heart, or struck by lightning. He looked like a man on -whom sentence is going to be pronounced,--not of death, but of eternal -pillory, as the judge addressed him, saying: - -“Fulvius, thy very look confirms this grievous charge. I could arraign -thee on it, for thy head, at once. But take my counsel, begone hence -forever. Flee, and hide thyself, after such villany, from the -indignation of all just men, and from the vengeance of the gods. Show -not thy face again here, nor in the Forum, nor in any public place of -Rome. If this lady pleases, even now I will take her deposition against -thee. Pray, madam,” he asked most respectfully, “may I have the honor of -knowing your name?” - -“Fabiola,” she replied. - -The judge was now all complacency, for he saw before him, he hoped, his -future daughter-in-law. “I have often heard of you, madam,” he said, -“and of your high accomplishments and exalted virtues. You are, -moreover, nearly allied to this victim of treachery, and have a right to -claim her body. It is at your disposal.” This speech was interrupted at -its beginning by a loud hiss and yell that accompanied Fulvius’s -departure. He was pale with shame, terror, and rage. - -Fabiola gracefully thanked the prefect, and beckoned to Syra, who -attended her. The servant again made a signal to some one else; and -presently four slaves appeared bearing a lady’s litter. Fabiola would -allow no one but herself and Syra to raise the relics from the ground, -place them on the litter, and cover them with their precious pall. “Bear -this treasure to its own home,” she said, and followed as mourner with -her maid. A little girl, all in tears, timidly asked if she might join -them. - -[Illustration: A Blood Urn, used as a mark for a martyr’s grave.] - -“Who art thou?” asked Fabiola. - -“I am poor Emerentiana, _her_ foster-sister,” replied the child; and -Fabiola led her kindly by the hand. - -The moment the body was removed, a crowd of Christians, children, men, -and women, threw themselves forward, with sponges and linen cloths, to -gather up the blood. In vain did the guards fall on them, with whips, -cudgels, and even with sharper weapons, so that many mingled their own -blood with that of the martyr. When a sovereign, at his coronation, or -on first entering his capital, throws, according to ancient custom, -handfuls of gold and silver coins among the crowd, he does not create a -more eager competition for his scattered treasures, than there was among -those primitive Christians, for what they valued more than gold or -precious stones, the ruby drops which a martyr had poured from his heart -for his Lord. But all respected the prior claim of one; and here it was -the deacon Reparatus, who, at risk of life, was present, phial in hand, -to gather the blood of Agnes’s testimony; that it might be appended, as -a faithful seal, to the record of martyrdom on her tomb. - -[Illustration: The Resurrection of Lazarus, from the Cemetery of St. -Domitilla.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -THE SAME DAY: ITS THIRD PART. - - -Tertullus hastened at once to the palace: fortunately, or unfortunately, -for these candidates for martyrdom. There he met Corvinus, with the -prepared rescript, elegantly engrossed in _unical_, that is, large -capital letters. He had the privilege of immediate admission into the -imperial presence; and, as a matter of business, reported the death of -Agnes, exaggerated the public feeling likely to be caused by it, -attributed it all to the folly and mismanagement of Fulvius, whose worst -guilt he did not disclose for fear of having to try him, and thus -bringing out what he was now doing; depreciated the value of Agnes’s -property, and ended by saying that it would be a gracious act of -clemency, and one sure to counteract unpopular feelings, to bestow it -upon her relative, who by settlement was her next heir. He described -Fabiola as a young lady of extraordinary intellect and wonderful -learning, who was most zealously devoted to the worship of the gods, and -daily offered sacrifice to the genius of the emperors. - -“I know her,” said Maximian, laughing, as if at the recollection of -something very droll. “Poor thing! she sent me a splendid ring, and -yesterday asked me for that wretched Sebastian’s life, just as they had -finished cudgelling him to death.” And he laughed immoderately, then -continued: “Yes, yes, by all means; a little inheritance will console -her, no doubt, for the loss of that fellow. Let a rescript be made out, -and I will sign it.” - -Tertullus produced the one prepared, saying he had fully relied on the -emperor’s magnanimous clemency; and the imperial barbarian put a -signature to it which would have disgraced a schoolboy. The prefect at -once consigned it to his son. - -Scarcely had he left the palace, when Fulvius entered. He had been home -to put on a proper court attire, and remove from his features, by the -bath and the perfumer’s art, the traces of his morning’s passion. He -felt a keen presentiment that he should be disappointed. Eurotas’s cool -discussion of the preceding evening had prepared him; the cross of all -his designs, and his multiplied disappointments that day, had -strengthened this instinctive conviction. One woman, indeed, seemed born -to meet and baffle him whichever way he turned; but, “thank the gods,” -he thought, “she cannot be in my way here. She has this morning blasted -my character for ever; she cannot claim my rightful reward; she has made -me an outcast; it is not in her power to make me a beggar.” This seemed -his only ground of hope. Despair, indeed, urged him forward; and he -determined to argue out his claims to the confiscated property of Agnes, -with the only competitor he could fear, the rapacious emperor himself. -He might as well risk his life over it, for if he failed, he was utterly -ruined. After waiting some time, he entered the audience-hall, and -advanced with the blandest smile that he could muster to the imperial -feet. - -“What want you here?” was his first greeting. - -“Sire,” he replied, “I have come humbly to pray your royal justice, to -order my being put into immediate possession of my share of the Lady -Agnes’s property. She has been convicted of being a Christian upon my -accusation, and she has just suffered the merited penalty of all who -disobey the imperial edicts.” - -“That is all quite right; but we have heard how stupidly you mismanaged -the whole business as usual, and have raised murmurings and discontent -in the people against us. So, now, the sooner you quit our presence, -palace, and city, the better for yourself. Do you understand? We don’t -usually give such warnings twice.” - -“I will obey instantly every intimation of the supreme will. But I am -almost destitute. Command what of right is mine to be delivered over to -me, and I part immediately.” - -“No more words,” replied the tyrant, “but go at once. As to the property -which you demand with so much pertinacity, you cannot have it. We have -made over the whole of it, by an irrevocable rescript, to an excellent -and deserving person, the Lady Fabiola.” - -Fulvius did not speak another word; but kissed the emperor’s hand and -slowly retired. He looked a ruined, broken man. He was only heard to -say, as he passed out of the gate: “Then, after all, she _has_ made me a -beggar too.” When he reached home, Eurotas, who read his answer in his -nephew’s eye, was amazed at his calmness. - -“I see,” he drily remarked, “it is all over.” - -“Yes; are your preparations made, Eurotas?” - -“Nearly so. I have sold the jewels, furniture, and slaves, at some loss; -but, with the trifle I had in hand, we have enough to take us safe to -Asia. I have retained Stabio, as the most trusty of our servants; he -will carry our small travelling requisites on his horse. Two others are -preparing for you and me. I have only one thing more to get for our -journey, and then I am ready to start.” - -“Pray what is that?” - -“The poison. I ordered it last night, but it will only be ready at -noon.” - -“What is that for?” asked Fulvius, with some alarm. - -“Surely you know,” rejoined the other, unmoved. “I am willing to make -one more trial any where else; but our bargain is clear; my father’s -family must not end in beggary. It must be extinguished in honor.” - -Fulvius bit his lip, and said, “Well, be it as you like, I am weary of -life. Leave the house as soon as possible, for fear of Ephraim, and be -with your horses at the third mile on the Latin gate soon after dusk. I -will join you there. For I, too, have an important matter to transact -before I start.” - -“And what is that?” asked Eurotas, with a rather keen curiosity. - -“I cannot tell even you. But if I am not with you by two hours after -sunset, give me up, and save yourself without me.” - -Eurotas fixed upon him his cold dark eye, with one of those looks which -ever read Fulvius through; to see if he could detect any lurking idea of -escape from his gripe. But his look was cool and unusually open, and the -old man asked no more. While this dialogue was going on, Fulvius had -been divesting himself of his court garments, and attiring himself in a -travelling suit. So completely did he evidently prepare himself for his -journey, without necessity of returning home, that he even took his -weapons with him; besides his sword, securing in his girdle, but -concealed under his cloak, one of those curved daggers, of highest -temper and most fatal form, which were only known in the East. - -Eurotas proceeded at once to the Numidian quarters in the palace, and -asked for Jubala; who entered with two small flasks of different sizes, -and was just going to give some explanations, when her husband, -half-drunk, half-furious, was seen approaching. Eurotas had just time to -conceal the flasks in his belt, and slip a coin into her hand, when -Hyphax came up. His wife had mentioned to him the offers which Eurotas -had made to her before marriage, and had excited in his hot African -blood a jealousy that amounted to hatred. The savage rudely thrust his -wife out of the apartment, and would have picked a quarrel with the -Syrian; had not the latter, his purpose being accomplished, acted with -forbearance, assured the archer-chief that he should never more see him, -and retired. - -It is time, however, that we return to Fabiola. The reader is probably -prepared to hear us say, that she returned home a Christian: and yet it -was not so. For what as yet did she know of Christianity, to be said to -profess it? In Sebastian and Agnes she had indeed willingly admired the -virtue, unselfish, generous, and more than earthly, which now she was -ready to attribute to that faith. She saw that it gave motives of -actions, principles of life, elevation of mind, courage of conscience, -and determination of virtuous will, such as no other system of belief -ever bestowed. And even if, as she now shrewdly suspected, and intended -in calmer moments to ascertain, the sublime revelations of Syra, -concerning an unseen sphere of virtue, and its all-seeing Ruler, came -from the same source, to what did it all amount more than to a grand -moral and intellectual system, partly practical, partly speculative, as -all codes of philosophic teaching were? This was a very different thing -from Christianity. She had as yet heard nothing of its real and -essential doctrines, its fathomless, yet accessible, depths of mystery; -the awful, vast, and heaven-high structure of faith, which the simplest -soul may contain; as a child’s eye will take in the perfect reflection -and counterpart of a mountain, though a giant cannot scale it. She had -never heard of a God, One in Trinity; of the co-equal Son incarnate for -man. She had never been told of the marvellous history, of Redemption by -God’s sufferings and death. She had not heard of Nazareth, or Bethlehem, -or Calvary. How could she call herself a Christian, or be one, in -ignorance of all this? - -How many names had to become familiar and sweet to her which as yet were -unknown, or barbarous--Mary, Joseph, Peter, Paul, and John? Not to -mention the sweetest of all, His, whose name is balm to the wounded -heart, or as honey dropping from the broken honeycomb. And how much had -she yet to learn about the provision for salvation on earth, in the -Church, in grace, in sacraments, in prayer, in love, in charity to -others! What unexplored regions lay beyond the small tract which she had -explored! - -No; Fabiola returned home, exhausted almost by the preceding day and -night, and the sad scenes of the morning, and retired to her own -apartment, no longer perhaps even a philosopher, yet not a Christian. -She desired all her servants to keep away from the court which she -occupied, that she might not be disturbed by the smallest noise; and she -forbade any one to have access to her. There she sat in loneliness and -silence, for several hours, too excited to obtain rest from slumber. She -mourned long over Agnes, as a mother might over a child suddenly carried -off. Yet, was there not a tinge of light upon the cloud that -overshadowed her, more than when it hung over her father’s bier? Did it -not seem to her an insult to reason, an outrage to humanity, to think -that _she_ had perished; that she had been permitted to walk forward in -her bright robe, and with her smiling countenance, and with her joyous, -simple heart, straight on--into nothing; that she had been allured by -conscience, and justice, and purity, and truth, on, on, till with arms -outstretched to embrace them, she stepped over a precipice, beneath -which yawned annihilation? No. Agnes, she felt sure, was happy somehow, -somewhere; or justice was a senseless word. - -“How strange,” she further thought, “that every one whom I have known -endowed with superior excellence, men like Sebastian, women like Agnes, -should turn out to have belonged to the scorned race of Christians! One -only remains, and to-morrow I will interrogate her.” - -When she turned from these, and looked round upon the heathen world, -Fulvius, Tertullus, the Emperor, Calpurnius,--nay, she shuddered as she -surprised herself on the point of mentioning her own father’s name--it -sickened her to see the contrast of baseness with nobleness, vice with -virtue, stupidity with wisdom, and the sensual with the spiritual. Her -mind was thus being shaped into a mould, which some form of practical -excellence must be found to fill, or it must be broken; her soul was -craving as a parched soil, which heaven must send its waters to refresh, -or it must become an eternal desert. - -Agnes, surely, well deserved the glory of gaining, by her death, her -kinswoman’s conversion; but was there not one, more humble, who had -established a prior claim? One who had given up freedom, and offered -life, for this unselfish gain? - -While Fabiola was alone and desolate, she was disturbed by the entrance -of a stranger, introduced under the ominous title of “A messenger from -the emperor.” The porter had at first denied him admittance; but upon -being assured that he bore an important embassy from the sovereign, he -felt obliged to inquire from the steward what to do; when he was -informed that no one with such a claim could be refused entrance. - -Fabiola was amazed, and her displeasure was somewhat mitigated, by the -ridiculous appearance of the person deputed in such a solemn character. -It was Corvinus, who with clownish grace approached her, and in a -studied speech, evidently got up very floridly, and intrusted to a bad -memory, laid at her feet an imperial rescript, and his own sincere -affection, the Lady Agnes’s estates, and his clumsy hand. Fabiola could -not at all comprehend the connection between the two combined presents, -and never imagined that the one was a bribe for the other. So she -desired him to return her humble thanks to the emperor for his gracious -act; adding, “Say that I am too ill to-day to present myself, and do him -homage.” - -“But these estates, you are aware, were forfeited and confiscated,” he -gasped out in great confusion, “and my father has obtained them for -you.” - -“That was unnecessary,” said Fabiola, “for they were settled on me long -ago, and became mine the moment”--she faltered, and after a strong -effort at self-mastery, she continued--“the moment they ceased to be -another’s; they did not fall under confiscation.” - -Corvinus was dumb-foundered: at last he stumbled into something, meant -for an humble petition to be admitted as an aspirant after her hand, but -understood by Fabiola to be a demand of recompense, for procuring or -bringing so important a document. She assured him that every claim he -might have on her should be fully and honorably considered at a more -favorable moment; but as she was exceedingly wearied and unwell, she -must beg him to leave her at present. He did so quite elated, fancying -that he had secured his prize. - -After he was gone she hardly looked at the parchment, which he had left -open on a small table by her couch, but sat musing on the sorrowful -scenes she had witnessed, till it wanted about an hour to sunset. -Sometimes her reveries turned to one point, sometimes to another of the -late events; and, at last, she was dwelling on her being confronted with -Fulvius, that morning, in the Forum. Her memory vividly replaced the -entire scene before her, and her mind gradually worked itself into a -state of painful excitement, which she at length checked by saying aloud -to herself: “Thank heaven! I shall never behold that villain’s face -again.” - -The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when she shaded her eyes with -her hand, as she raised herself up on her couch, and looked towards the -door. Was it her overheated fancy which beguiled her, or did her wakeful -eyes show her a reality? Her ears decided the question, by these words -which they heard: - -“Pray, madam, who is the man whom you honor by that gracious speech?” - -“You, Fulvius,” she said, rising with dignity. “A further intruder -still; not only into the house, the villa, and the dungeon, but into the -most secret apartments of a lady’s residence; and what is worse, into -the house of sorrow of one whom you have bereaved. Begone at once, or I -will have you ignominiously expelled hence.” - -“Sit down and compose yourself, lady,” rejoined the intruder; “this is -my last visit to you; but we have a reckoning to make together of some -weight. As to crying out, or bringing in help, you need not trouble -yourself; your orders to your servants to keep aloof, have been too well -obeyed. There is no one within call.” - -It was true. Fulvius found the way prepared unwittingly for him by -Corvinus; for upon presenting himself at the door the porter, who had -seen him twice dine at the house, told him of the strict orders given, -and assured him that he could not be admitted unless he came from the -emperor, for such were his instructions. That, Fulvius said, was exactly -his case; and the porter, wondering that so many imperial messengers -should come in one day, let him pass. He begged that the door might be -left unfastened, in case the porter should not be at his post when he -retired; for he was in a hurry, and should not like to disturb the house -in such a state of grief. He added that he required no guide, for he -knew the way to Fabiola’s apartment. - -Fulvius seated himself opposite to the lady, and continued: - -“You ought not to be offended, madam, with my unexpectedly coming upon -you, and overhearing your amiable soliloquies about myself; it is a -lesson I learned from yourself in the Tullian prison. But I must begin -my scores from an earlier date. When, for the first time, I was invited -by your worthy father to his table, I met one whose looks and words at -once gained my affections,--I need not now mention her name,--and whose -heart, with instinctive sympathy, returned them.” - -“Insolent man!” Fabiola exclaimed, “to allude to such a topic here; it -is false that any such affection ever existed on either side.” - -“As to the Lady Agnes,” resumed Fulvius, “I have the best authority, -that of your lamented parent, who more than once encouraged me to -persevere in my suit, by assuring me that his cousin had confided to him -her reciprocating love.” - -Fabiola was mortified; for she now remembered that this was too true, -from the hints which Fabius had given her, of his stupid -misunderstanding. - -“I know well, that my dear father was under a delusion upon this -subject; but I, from whom that dear child concealed nothing----” - -“Except her religion,” interrupted Fulvius, with bitter irony. - -“Peace!” Fabiola went on; “that word sounds like a blasphemy on your -lips--I knew that you were but an object of loathing and abhorrence to -her.” - -“Yes, after you had made me such. From that hour of our first meeting -you became my bitter and unrelenting foe, in conspiracy with that -treacherous officer, who has received his reward, and whom you had -destined for the place I courted. Repress your indignation, lady, for I -_will_ be heard out,--you undermined my character, you poisoned her -feelings, and you turned my love into necessary enmity.” - -“Your love!” now broke in the indignant lady; “even if all that you have -said were not basely false, what love could you have for _her_? How -could _you_ appreciate her artless simplicity, her genuine honesty, her -rare understanding, her candid innocence, any more than the wolf can -value the lamb’s gentleness, or the vulture the dove’s mildness? No, it -was her wealth, her family connection, her nobility, that you grasped -at, and nothing more; I read it in the very flash of your eye, when -first it fixed itself, as a basilisk’s, upon her.” - -“It is false!” he rejoined; “had I obtained my request, had I been thus -worthily mated, I should have been found equal to my position, domestic, -contented, and affectionate; as worthy of possessing her as----” - -“As any one can be,” struck in Fabiola, “who, in offering his hand, -expresses himself equally ready, in three hours, to espouse or to murder -the object of his affection. And she prefers the latter, and he keeps -his word. Begone from my presence; you taint the very atmosphere in -which you move.” - -“I will leave when I have accomplished my task, and you will have little -reason to rejoice when I do. You have then purposely, and unprovoked, -blighted and destroyed in me every honorable purpose of life, withered -my only hope, cut me off from rank, society, respectable ease, and -domestic happiness. - -“That was not enough. After acting in that character, with which you -summed up my condemnation, of a spy, and listened to my conversation, -you this morning threw off all sense of female propriety, and stood -forward prominently in the Forum, to complete in public what you had -begun in private, excite against me the supreme tribunal, and through it -the emperor, and arouse an unjust popular outcry and vengeance; such as, -but for a feeling stronger than fear, which brings me hither, would -make me now skulk, like a hunted wolf, till I could steal out of the -nearest gate.” - -“And, Fulvius, I tell you,” interposed Fabiola, “that the moment you -cross its threshold, the average of virtue will be raised in this wicked -city. Again I bid you depart from my house, at least; or at any rate I -will withdraw from this offensive intrusion.” - -“We part not yet, lady,” said Fulvius, whose countenance had been -growing every moment more flushed, as his lips had been becoming more -deadly pale. He rudely grasped her arm, and pushed her back to her seat; -“and beware,” he added, “how you attempt again either to escape or to -bring aid; your first cry will be your last, cost me what it may. - -“You have made me, then, an outcast, not only from society but from -Rome, an exile, a houseless wanderer on a friendless earth; was not that -enough to satisfy your vengeance? No: you must needs rob me of my gold, -of my rightfully, though painfully earned wealth; peace, reputation, my -means of subsistence, all _you_ have stolen from me, a youthful -stranger.” - -“Wicked and insolent man!” exclaimed now the indignant Roman lady, -reckless of consequences, “you shall answer heavily for your temerity. -Dare you, in my own house, call me a thief?” - -“I dare; and I tell you this is your day of reckoning, and not mine. I -have earned, even if by crime, it is nothing to you, my full share of -your cousin’s confiscated property. I have earned it hardly, by pangs -and rendings of the heart and soul, by sleepless nights of struggles -with fiends that have conquered; ay, and with one at home that is -sterner than they; by days and days of restless search for evidence, -amidst the desolation of a proud, but degraded spirit. Have I not a -right to enjoy it? - -“Ay, call it what you will, call it my blood-money; the more infamous -it is, the more base in you to step in and snatch it from me. It is like -a rich man tearing the carrion from the hound’s jaws, after he has -swollen his feet and rent his skin in hunting it down.” - -“I will not seek for further epithets by which to call you; your mind is -deluded by some vain dream,” said Fabiola, with an earnestness not -untinged with alarm. She felt she was in the presence of a madman, one -in whom violent passion, carried off by an unchecked, deeply-moved -fancy, was lashing itself up to that intensity of wicked excitement, -which constitutes a moral frenzy,--when the very murderer thinks himself -a virtuous avenger. “Fulvius,” she continued, with studied calmness, and -looking fully into his eyes, “I now _entreat_ you to go. If you want -money, you shall have it; but go, in heaven’s name go, before you -destroy your reason by your anger.” - -“What vain fancy do you mean?” asked Fulvius. - -“Why, that I should have ever dreamt about Agnes’s wealth or property on -such a day, or should have taken any advantage of her cruel death.” - -“And yet it is so; I have it from the emperor’s mouth that he has made -it over to you. Will you pretend to make me believe, that this most -generous and liberal prince ever parted with a penny unsolicited, ay, or -unbribed?” - -“Of this I know nothing. But I know, that I would rather have died of -want than petitioned for a farthing of such property!” - -“Then would you make me rather believe, that in this city there is any -one so disinterested as, undesired, to have petitioned for you? No, no, -Lady Fabiola, all this is too incredible. But what is that?” And he -pounced with eagerness on the imperial rescript, which had remained -unlooked at, since Corvinus had left it. The sensation to him was like -that of Æneas when he saw Pallas’s belt upon the body of Turnus. The -fury, which seemed to have been subdued by his subtlety, as he had been -reasoning to prove Fabiola guilty, flashed up anew at the sight of this -fatal document. He eyed it for a minute, then broke out, gnashing his -teeth with rage: - -“Now, madam, I convict you of baseness, rapacity, and unnatural cruelty, -far beyond any thing you have dared to charge on me! Look at this -rescript, beautifully engrossed, with its golden letters and emblazoned -margins; and presume to say that it was prepared in the one hour that -elapsed between your cousin’s death and the emperor’s telling me that he -had signed it? Nor do you pretend to know the generous friend who -procured you the gift. Bah! while Agnes was in prison at latest; while -you were whining and moaning over her; while you were reproaching me for -cruelty and treachery towards her,--me, a stranger and alien to her! -you, the gentle lady, the virtuous philosopher, the loving, fondling -kinswoman, you, my stern reprover, were coolly plotting to take -advantage of my crime, for securing her property, and seeking out the -elegant scribe, who should gild your covetousness with his pencil, and -paint over your treason to your own flesh and blood, with his blushing -_minium_.”[212] - -“Cease, madman, cease!” exclaimed Fabiola, endeavoring in vain to master -his glaring eye. But he went on in still wilder tone: - -“And then, forsooth, when you have thus basely robbed me, you offer me -money. You have out-plotted me, and you pity me! You have made me a -beggar, and then you offer me alms,--alms out of my own wages, the wages -which even hell allows its fated victims while on earth!” - -Fabiola rose again, but he seized her with a maniac’s gripe, and this -time did not let her go. He went on: - -“Now listen to the last words that I will speak, or they may be the -last that you will hear. Give back to me that unjustly obtained -property; it is not fair that I should have the guilt, and you its -reward. Transfer it by your sign manual to me as a free and loving gift, -and I will depart. If not, you have signed your own doom.” A stern and -menacing glance accompanied these words. - -Fabiola’s haughty self rose again erect within her; her Roman heart, -unsubdued, stood firm. Danger only made her fearless. She gathered her -robe with matronly dignity around her, and replied: - -“Fulvius, listen to my words, though they should be the last that I may -speak; as certainly they shall be the last that you shall hear from me. - -“Surrender this property to you? I would give it willingly to the first -leper that I might meet in the street, but to you never. Never shall you -touch thing that belonged to that holy maiden, be it a gem or be it a -straw! That touch would be pollution. Take gold of mine, if it please -you; but any thing that ever belonged to her, from me no treasures can -ransom. And one legacy I prize more than all her inheritance. You have -now offered me two alternatives, as last night you did her, to yield to -your demands, or die. Agnes taught me which to choose. Once again, I -say, depart.” - -“And leave you to possess what is mine? leave you to triumph over me, as -one whom you have outwitted--you honored, and I disgraced--you rich, and -I penniless--you happy, and I wretched? No, never! I cannot save myself -from what you have made me; but I can prevent your being what you have -no right to be. For this I have come here; this is my day of -Nemesis.[213] Now die!” While he was speaking these reproaches, he was -slowly pushing her backwards with his left hand towards the couch from -which she had risen; while his right was tremblingly feeling for -something in the folds of his bosom. - -As he finished his last word, he thrust her violently down upon the -couch, and seized her by the hair. She made no resistance, she uttered -no cry; partly a fainting and sickening sensation came over her; partly -a noble feeling of self-respect checked any unseemly exhibition of fear, -before a scornful enemy. Just as she closed her eyes, she saw something -like lightning above her; she could not tell whether it was his glaring -eye or flashing steel. - -In another moment she felt oppressed and suffocated, as if a great -weight had fallen upon her; and a hot stream was flowing over her bosom. - -A sweet voice full of earnestness sounded in her ears: - -“Cease, Orontius; I am thy sister Miriam!” - -Fulvius, in accents choked by passion, replied: - -“It is false; give me up my prey!” - -A few words more were faintly spoken in a tongue unknown to Fabiola; -when she felt her hair released, heard the dagger dashed to the ground, -and Fulvius cry out bitterly, as he rushed out of the room: - -“O Christ! this is Thy Nemesis!” - -Fabiola’s strength was returning; but she felt the weight upon her -increase. She struggled, and released herself. Another body was lying in -her place, apparently dead, and covered with blood. - -It was the faithful Syra, who had thrown herself between her mistress’s -life and her brother’s dagger. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -DIONYSIUS. - -+----------+[214] -| ΔΙΟΝΥCΙΟΥ | -| ΙΑΤΡΟΥ | -|ΠΡΕCΒΥΤΕΡΟΥ | -+-----------+ - -The great thoughts, which this occurrence would naturally have suggested -to the noble heart of Fabiola, were suppressed, for a time, by the -exigencies of the moment. Her first care was to stanch the flowing blood -with whatever was nearest at hand. While she was engaged in this work, -there was a general rush of servants towards her apartment. The stupid -porter had begun to be uneasy at Fulvius’s long stay (the reader has now -heard his real name), when he saw him dash out of the door like a -maniac, and thought he perceived stains of blood upon his garment. He -immediately gave the alarm to the entire household. - -Fabiola by a gesture stopped the crowd at the door of her room, and -desired only Euphrosyne and her Greek maid to enter. The latter, since -the influence of the black slave had been removed, had attached herself -most affectionately to Syra, as we must still call her, and had, with -great docility, listened to her moral instructions. A slave was -instantly despatched for the physician who had always been sent for by -Syra in illness, Dionysius, who, as we have already observed, lived in -the house of Agnes. - -In the meantime Fabiola had been overjoyed at finding the blood cease to -flow so rapidly, and still more at seeing her servant open her eyes upon -her, though only for a moment. She would not have exchanged for any -wealth the sweet smile which accompanied that look. - -[Illustration: Cemetery of Callistus.] - -In a few minutes the kind physician arrived. He carefully examined the -wound, and pronounced favorably on it for the present. The blow, as -aimed, would have gone straight to Fabiola’s heart. But her loving -servant, in spite of prohibition, had been hovering near her mistress -during the whole day; never intruding, but anxious for any opportunity -which might offer, of seconding those good impressions of grace, which -the morning’s scenes could not fail to have produced. While in a -neighboring room she heard violent tones which were too familiar to her -ears; and hastened noiselessly round, and within the curtain which -covered the door of Fabiola’s own apartment. She stood concealed in the -dusk, on the very spot where Agnes had, a few months before, consoled -her. - -She had not been there long when the last struggle commenced. While the -man was pushing her mistress backwards, she followed him close behind; -and as he was lifting his arm, passed him, and threw her body over that -of his victim. The blow descended, but misdirected, through the shock -she gave his arm; and it fell upon her neck, where it inflicted a deep -wound, checked, however, by encountering the collar-bone. We need not -say what it cost her to make this sacrifice. Not the dread of pain, nor -the fear of death could for a moment have deterred her; it was the -horror of imprinting on her brother’s brow the mark of Cain, the making -him doubly a fratricide, which deeply anguished her. But she had offered -her life for her mistress. To have fought with the assassin, whose -strength and agility she knew, would have been useless; to try to alarm -the house before one fatal blow was struck was hopeless; and nothing -remained but to accomplish her immolation, by substituting herself for -the intended victim. Still she wished to spare her brother the -consummation of his crime, and in doing so manifested to Fabiola their -relationship and their real names. - -In his blind fury he refused her credit; but the words, in their native -tongue, which said, “Remember my scarf which you picked up here,” -brought back to his memory so terrible a domestic tale, that had the -earth opened a cavern in that moment before his feet, he would have -leaped into it, to bury his remorse and shame. - -Strange, too, it proved, that he should not have ever allowed Eurotas to -get possession of that family relic, but should, ever since he regained -it, have kept it apart as a sacred thing; and when all else was being -packed up, should have folded it up and put it in his breast. And now, -in the act of drawing out his eastern dagger, he had plucked this out -too, and both were found upon the floor. - -Dionysius, immediately after dressing the wound, and administering -proper restoratives, which brought back consciousness, desired the -patient to be left perfectly quiet, to see as few persons as possible, -so as to prevent excitement, and to go on with the treatment which he -prescribed until midnight. “I will call,” he added, “very early in the -morning, when I must see my patient alone.” He whispered a few words in -her ear, which seemed to do her more good than all his medicines; for -her countenance brightened into an angelic smile. - -Fabiola had her placed in her own bed, and, allotting to her attendants -the outward room, reserved to herself exclusively the privilege, as she -deemed it, of nursing the servant, to whom a few months before she could -hardly feel grateful for having tended her in fever. She had informed -the others how the wound had been inflicted, concealing the relationship -between her assailant and her deliverer. - -Although herself exhausted and feverish, she would not leave the bedside -of the patient; and when midnight was past, and no more remedies had to -be administered, she sank to rest upon a low couch close to the bed. And -now what were her thoughts, when, in the dim light of a sick room, she -opened her mind and heart to them? They were simple and earnest. She saw -at once the reality and truth of all that her servant had ever spoken to -her. When she last conversed with her, the principles which she heard -with delight, had appeared to her wholly beyond practice, beautiful -theories, which could not be brought to action. When Miriam had -described a sphere of virtue, wherein no approbation or reward of man -was to be expected, but only the approving eye of God, she had admired -the idea, which powerfully seized her generous mind; but she had -rebelled against its becoming the constraining rule of hourly conduct. -Yet, if the stroke under which she cast herself had proved fatal, as it -might easily have done, where would have been her reward? What, then, -could have been her motive but that very theory, as it seemed, of -responsibility to an unseen power? - -And when Miriam had discoursed of heroism in virtue as being its -ordinary standard, how chimerical the principle had seemed! Yet here, -without preparation, without forethought, without excitement, without -glory,--nay, with marked desire of concealment, this slave had performed -a deed of self-sacrifice, heroic in every way. From what could that -result but from habitual heroism of virtue, ready at any hour to do what -would ennoble forever a soldier’s name? She was no dreamer, then, no -theorist, but a serious, real practiser of all that she taught. Could -this be a philosophy? Oh, no, it must be a religion! the religion of -Agnes and of Sebastian, to whom she considered Miriam every way equal. -How she longed to converse with her again! - -Early in the morning, according to his promise, the physician returned, -and found his patient much improved. He desired to be left alone with -her; when, having spread a linen cloth upon the table, and placed -lighted tapers upon it, he drew from his bosom an embroidered scarf, and -uncovered a golden box, the sacred contents of which she well knew. -Approaching her he said: - -“My dear child, as I promised you, I have now brought you not merely the -truest remedy of every ailment, bodily and spiritual, but the very -Physician Himself, who by His word alone restoreth all things,[215] -whose touch opens the eyes of the blind and the ears of the deaf, whose -will cleanses lepers, the hem of whose garment sends forth virtue to -cure all. Are you ready to receive Him?” - -“With all my heart,” she replied, clasping her hands; “I long to possess -Him whom alone I have loved, in whom I have believed, to whom my heart -belongs.” - -“Does no anger or indignation exist in your soul against him who has -injured you? does any pride or vanity arise in your mind at the thought -of what you have done? or are you conscious of any other fault requiring -humble confession and absolution before receiving the sacred gift into -your breast?” - -“Full of imperfection and sin I know myself to be, venerable father; but -I am not conscious of any knowing offence. I have had no need to forgive -him to whom you allude; I love him too much for that, and would -willingly give my life to save him. And of what have I to be proud, a -poor servant, who have only obeyed my Lord’s commands?” - -“Invite then, my child, this Lord into your house, that coming He may -heal you, and fill you with His grace.” - -Approaching the table, he took from it a particle of the Blessed -Eucharist, in the form of unleavened bread, which, being dry, he -moistened in water, and placed within her lips.[216] She closed them -upon it, and remained for some time absorbed in contemplation. - -And thus did the holy Dionysius discharge his twofold office of -physician and priest, attributed to him on his tomb. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -THE SACRIFICE ACCEPTED. - - -Through the whole of that day the patient seemed occupied with deep, but -most pleasing thoughts. Fabiola, who never left her, except for moments -to give necessary directions, watched her countenance with a mixture of -awe and delight. It appeared as if her servant’s mind were removed from -surrounding objects, and conversing in a totally different sphere. Now a -smile passed like a sunbeam across her features, now a tear trembled in -her eye, or flowed down her cheeks; sometimes her pupils were raised and -kept fixed on heaven for a considerable time, while a blissful look of -perfect and calm enjoyment sat unvarying upon her; and then she would -turn round with an expression of infinite tenderness towards her -mistress, and hold out her hand to be clasped in hers. And Fabiola could -sit thus for hours in silence, which was as yet prescribed; feeling it -an honor, and thinking it did her good, to be in contact with such a -rare type of virtue. - -At length, in the course of the day, after giving her patient some -nourishment, she said to her, smiling: “I think you are much better, -Miriam, already. Your physician must have given you some wonderful -medicine.” - -“Indeed he has, my dearest mistress.” - -Fabiola was evidently pained; and leaning over her, said softly: “Oh, do -not, I entreat you, call me by such a title. If it has to be used, it -should be by me towards you. But, in fact, it is no longer true; for -what I long intended has now been done; and the instrument of your -liberation has been ordered to be made out, not as a freedwoman, but as -an _ingenua_;[217] for such I know you are.” - -Miriam looked her thanks, for fear of further hurting Fabiola’s -feelings; and they continued to be happy together in silence. - -Towards evening Dionysius returned, and found so great an improvement, -that, ordering more nourishing food, he permitted a little quiet -conversation. - -“I must now,” said Fabiola, so soon as they were alone, “fulfill the -first duty, which my heart has been burning to discharge, that of -thanking you,--I wish I knew a stronger word,--not for the life which -you have saved me, but for the magnanimous sacrifice which you made for -it--and, let me add, the unequalled example of heroic virtue, which -alone inspired it.” - -“After all, what have I done, but simple duty? You had a right to my -life, for a much less cause than to save yours,” answered Miriam. - -“No doubt,” responded Fabiola, “it appears so to you, who have been -trained to the doctrine which overpowered me, that the most heroic acts -ought to be considered by men as performances of ordinary duties.” - -“And thereby,” rejoined Miriam, “they cease to be what you have called -them.” - -“No, no,” exclaimed Fabiola, with enthusiasm; “do not try to make me -mean and vile to my own heart, by teaching me to undervalue what I -cannot but prize as an unrivalled act of virtue. I have been reflecting -on it, night and day, since I witnessed it; and my heart has been -yearning to speak to you of it, and even yet I dare not, or I should -oppress your weakness with my overcharged feelings. It was noble, it was -grand, it was beyond all reach of praise; though I know you do not want -it. I cannot see any way in which the sublimeness of the act could have -been enhanced, or human virtue rise one step higher.” - -Miriam, who was now raised to a reclining position, took Fabiola’s hand -between both hers; and turning round towards her, in a soft and mild, -but most earnest tone, thus addressed her: - -“Good and gentle lady, for one moment listen to me. Not to depreciate -what you are good enough to value, since it pains you to hear it, but to -teach you how far we still are from what might have been done, let me -trace for you a parallel scene, but where all shall be reversed. Let it -be a slave--pardon me, dear Fabiola, for another pang--I see it in your -face, but it shall be the last--yes, a slave brutish, ungrateful, -rebellious to the most benign and generous of masters. And let the -stroke, not of an assassin, but of the minister of justice, impend over -his head. What would you call the act, how would you characterize the -virtue, of that master, if out of pure love, and that he might reclaim -that wretched man, he should rush beneath the axe’s blow, ay, and its -preceding ignominious stripes, and leave written in his will, that he -made that slave heir to his titles and his wealth, and desired him to be -considered as his brother?” - -“O Miriam, Miriam, you have drawn a picture too sublime to be believed -of man. You have not eclipsed your own deed, for I spoke of _human_ -virtue. To act as you have now described would require, if possible, -that of a God!” - -Miriam pressed the folded hand to her bosom, fixed on Fabiola’s -wondering eyes a look of heavenly inspiration, as she sweetly and -solemnly replied: “AND JESUS CHRIST, WHO DID ALL THIS FOR MAN, WAS TRULY -GOD.” - -Fabiola covered her face with both her hands, and for a long time was -silent. Miriam prayed earnestly in her own tranquil heart. - -“Miriam, I thank you from my soul,” at length Fabiola said; “you have -fulfilled your promise of guiding me. For some time I have only been -fearing that you might not be a Christian; but it could not be. - -“Now tell me, are those awful, but sweet words, which you just now -uttered, which have sunk into my heart as deeply, as silently, and as -irrevocably as a piece of gold dropped upon the surface of the still -ocean goes down into its depths,--are those words a mere part of the -Christian system, or are they its essential principle?” - -“From a simple allegory, dear lady, your powerful mind has, in one -bound, reached and grasped the master-key of our whole teaching: the -alembic of your fine understanding has extracted, and condensed into one -thought, the most vital and prominent doctrines of Christianity. You -have distilled them into their very essence. - -“That man, God’s creature and bondsman, rebelled against his Lord; that -justice irresistible had doomed and pursued him; that this very Lord -‘took the form of a servant, and in habit was found like a man;’[218] -that in this form he suffered stripes, buffets, mockery, and shameful -death, became the ‘Crucified One,’ as men here call Him, and thereby -rescued man from his fate, and gave him part in His own riches and -kingdom: all this is comprised in the words that I have spoken. - -“And you had reached the right conclusion. Only God could have -performed so godlike an action, or have offered so sublime an -expiation.” - -Fabiola was again wrapped up in silent thought, till she timidly asked: - -“And was it to this that you referred in Campania, when you spoke of God -alone being a victim worthy of God?” - -“Yes; but I further alluded to the continuation of that sacrifice, even -in our own days, by a marvellous dispensation of an all-powerful love. -However, on this I must not yet speak.” - -Fabiola resumed: “I every moment see how all that you have ever spoken -to me coheres and fits together, like the parts of one plant; all -springing one from another. I thought it bore only the lovely flowers of -an elegant theory; you have shown me in your conduct how these can ripen -into sweet and solid fruit. In the doctrine which you have just -explained, I seem to myself to find the noble stem from which all the -others branch forth--even to that very fruit. For who would refuse to do -for another, what is much less than God has done for him? But, Miriam, -there is a deep and unseen root whence springs all this, possibly dark -beyond contemplation, deep beyond reach, complex beyond man’s power to -unravel; yet perhaps simple to a confiding mind. If, in my present -ignorance, I can venture to speak, it should be vast enough to occupy -all nature, rich enough to fill creation with all that is good and -perfect in it, strong enough to bear the growth of your noble tree, till -its summit reach above the stars, and its branches to the ends of earth. - -“I mean, your idea of that God, whom you made me fear, when you spoke to -me as a philosopher of Him, and taught me to know as the ever-present -watchman and judge; but whom I am sure you will make me love when, as a -Christian, you exhibit Him to me as the root and origin of such -boundless tenderness and mercy. - -“Without some deep mystery in His nature, as yet unknown to me, I cannot -fully apprehend that wonderful doctrine of man’s purchase.” - -“Fabiola,” responded Miriam, “more learned teachers than I should -undertake the instruction of one so gifted and so acute. But will you -believe me if I attempt to give you some explanation?” - -“Miriam,” replied Fabiola, with strong emphasis, “ONE WHO IS READY TO -DIE FOR ANOTHER, WILL CERTAINLY NOT DECEIVE HIM.” - -“And now,” rejoined the patient, smiling, “you have again seized a great -principle--that of FAITH. I will, therefore, be only the simple narrator -of what Jesus Christ, who truly died for us, has taught us. You will -believe my word only as that of a faithful witness; you will accept His, -as that of an unerring God.” - -Fabiola bowed her head, and listened with reverential mind to her, in -whom she had long honored a teacher of marvellous wisdom, which she drew -from some unknown school; but whom now she almost worshipped as an -angel, who could open to her the flood-gates of the eternal ocean, whose -waters are the unfathomable Wisdom, overflowing on earth. - -Miriam expounded, in the simple terms of Catholic teaching, the sublime -doctrine of the Trinity; then after relating the fall of man, unfolded -the mystery of the Incarnation, giving, in the very words of St. John, -the history of the Eternal Word, till He was made flesh, and dwelt among -men. Often was she interrupted by the expressions of admiration or -assent which her pupil uttered; never by cavil or doubt. Philosophy had -given place to religion, captiousness to docility, incredulity to faith. - -But now a sadness seemed to have come over Fabiola’s heart: Miriam read -it in her looks, and asked her its cause. - -“I hardly dare tell you,” she replied. “But all that you have related to -me is so beautiful, so divine, that it seems to me necessarily to end -here. - -“The Word (what a noble name!), that is, the expression of God’s love, -the externation of His wisdom, the evidence of His power, the very -breath of His life-giving life, which is Himself, becometh flesh. Who -shall furnish it to Him? Shall He take up the cast-off slough of a -tainted humanity, or shall a new manhood be created expressly for _Him_? -Shall He take His place in a double genealogy, receiving thus into -Himself a twofold tide of corruption; and shall there be any one on -earth daring and high enough to call himself His father?” - -“No,” softly whispered Miriam; “but there shall be one holy enough, and -humble enough, to be worthy to call herself His mother! - -“Almost 800 years before the Son of God came into the world, a prophet -spoke, and recorded his words, and deposited the record of them in the -hands of the Jews, Christ’s inveterate enemies; and his words were -these: ‘Behold, a Virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and His name -shall be called Emanuel,’[219] which in the Hebrew language signifies -‘God with us,’ that is with men. - -“This prophecy was of course fulfilled in the conception and birth of -God’s Son on earth.” - -“And who was _she_?” asked Fabiola, with great reverence. - -“One whose very name is blessed by every one that truly loves her Son. -Mary is the name by which you will know her: Miriam, its original in her -own tongue, is the one by which I honor her. Well, you may suppose, was -she prepared for such high destiny by holiness and virtue; not as -cleansed, but as ever clean; not as purified, but as always pure; not -freed, but exempted, from sin. The tide of which you spoke, found before -her the dam of an eternal decree, which could not brook that the -holiness of God should mingle with what it could only redeem, by keeping -extraneous to itself. Bright as the blood of Adam, when the breath of -God sent it sparkling through his veins, pure as the flesh of Eve, while -standing yet in the mould of the Almighty hands, as they drew it from -the side of the slumbering man, were the blood and the flesh, which the -Spirit of God formed into the glorious humanity, that Mary gave to -Jesus. - -“And after this glorious privilege granted to our sex, are you surprised -that many, like your sweet Agnes, should have chosen this peerless -Virgin as the pattern of their lives; should find in her, whom God so -elected, the model of every virtue; and should, in preference to -allowing themselves to be yoked, even by the tenderest of ties, to the -chariot-wheels of this world, seek to fly upwards on wings of undivided -love like hers?” - -After a pause and some reflection, Miriam proceeded briefly to detail -the history of our Saviour’s birth, His laborious youth, His active but -suffering public life, and then His ignominious Passion. Often was the -narrative interrupted by the tears and sobs of the willing listener and -ready learner. At last the time for rest had come, when Fabiola humbly -asked: - -“Are you too fatigued to answer one question more?” - -“No,” was the cheerful reply. - -“What hope,” said Fabiola, “can there be for one who cannot say she was -ignorant, for she pretended to know every thing; nor that she neglected -to learn, for she affected eagerness after every sort of knowledge; but -can only confess that she scorned the true wisdom, and blasphemed its -Giver;--for one who has scoffed at the very torments which proved the -love, and sneered at the death which was the ransoming, of Him whom she -has mocked at, as the ‘Crucified?’” - -A flood of tears stopped her speech. - -Miriam waited till their relieving flow had subsided into that gentler -dew which softens the heart; then in soothing tones addressed her as -follows: - -“In the days of our Lord there lived a woman who bore the same name as -His spotless Mother; but she had sinned publicly, degradingly, as you, -Fabiola, would abhor to sin. She became acquainted, we know not how, -with her Redeemer; in the secrecy of her own heart, she contemplated -earnestly, till she came to love intensely, His gracious and -condescending familiarity with sinners, and His singular indulgence and -forgivingness to the fallen. She loved and loved still more; and, -forgetting herself, she only thought how she might manifest her love, so -that it might bring honor, however slight, to Him, and shame, however -great, on herself. - -“She went into the house of a rich man, where the usual courtesies of -hospitality had been withheld from its Divine guest, into the house of a -haughty man who spurned, in the presumption of his heart, the public -sinner; she supplied the attentions which had been neglected to Him whom -she loved; and she was scorned, as she expected, for her obtrusive -sorrow.” - -“How did she do this, Miriam?” - -“She knelt at His feet as He sat at table; she poured out upon them a -flood of tears; she wiped them with her luxurious hair, she kissed them -fervently, and she anointed them with rich perfume.” - -“And what was the result?” - -“She was defended by Jesus against the carping gibes of His host; she -was told that she was forgiven on account of her love, and was dismissed -with kindest comfort.” - -“And what became of her?” - -“When on Calvary He was crucified, two women were privileged to stand -close to Him; Mary the sinless, and Mary the penitent: to show how -unsullied and repentant love may walk hand in hand, beside Him who said -that He had ‘come to call not the just, but sinners to repentance.’” - -No more was said that night. Miriam, fatigued with her exertion, sank -into a placid slumber. Fabiola sat by her side, filled to her heart’s -brim with this tale of love. She pondered over it again and again; and -she still saw more and more how every part of this wonderful system was -consistent. For if Miriam had been ready to die for her, in imitation of -her Saviour’s love, so had she been as ready to forgive her, when she -had thoughtlessly injured her. Every Christian, she now felt, ought to -be a copy, a representative of his Master; but the one that slumbered so -tranquilly beside her was surely true to her model, and might well -represent Him to her. - -When, after some time, Miriam awoke, she found her mistress (for her -patent of freedom was not yet completed) lying at her feet, over which -she had sobbed herself to sleep. She understood at once the full meaning -and merit of this self-humiliation; she did not stir, but thanked God -with a full heart that her sacrifice had been accepted. - -Fabiola, on awaking, crept back to her own couch, as she thought, -unobserved. A secret, sharp pang it had cost her to perform this act of -self-abasement; but she had thoroughly humbled the pride of her heart. -She felt for the first time that her heart was Christian. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -MIRIAM’S HISTORY. - - -The next morning, when Dionysius came, he found both patient and nurse -so radiant and so happy, that he congratulated them both on having had a -good night’s rest. Both laughed at the idea; but concurred in saying -that it had been the happiest night of their lives. Dionysius was -surprised, till Miriam, taking the hand of Fabiola, said: - -“Venerable priest of God, I confide to your fatherly care this -catechumen, who desires to be fully instructed in the mysteries of our -holy faith, and to be regenerated by the waters of eternal salvation.” - -“What!” asked Fabiola, amazed, “are you more than a physician?” - -“I am, my child,” the old man replied; “unworthily I hold likewise the -higher office of a priest in God’s Church.” - -Fabiola unhesitatingly knelt before him, and kissed his hand. The priest -placed his right hand upon her head, and said to her: - -“Be of good courage, daughter; you are not the first of your house whom -God has brought into His holy Church. It is now many years since I was -called in here, under the guise of a physician, by a former servant, now -no more; but in reality it was to baptize, a few hours before her death, -the wife of Fabius.” - -“My mother!” exclaimed Fabiola. “She died immediately after giving me -birth. And did she die a Christian?” - -“Yes; and I doubt not that her spirit has been hovering about you -through life by the side of the angel who guards you, guiding you unseen -to this blessed hour. And, before the throne of God, she has been -unceasing in her supplications on your behalf.” - -Joy tenfold filled the breasts of the two friends; and after -arrangements had been made with Dionysius for the necessary instructions -and preparations for Fabiola’s admission to baptism, she went up to the -side of Miriam, and taking her hand, said to her in a low, soft voice: - -“Miriam, may I from henceforth call you sister?” A pressure of the hand -was the only reply which she could give. - -With their mistress, the old nurse, Euphrosyne, and the Greek slave, -placed themselves, as we now say, under instruction, to receive baptism -on Easter-eve. Nor must we forget one who was already enrolled in the -list of catechumens, and whom Fabiola had taken home with her and kept, -Emerentiana, the foster-sister of Agnes. It was her delight to make -herself useful, by being the ready messenger between the sick-room and -the rest of the house. - -During her illness, as her strength improved, Miriam imparted many -particulars of her previous life to Fabiola; and as they will throw some -light on our preceding narrative, we will give her history in a -continuous form. - -Some years before our story commenced, there lived in Antioch a man who, -though not of ancient family, was rich, and moved in the highest circles -of that most luxurious city. To keep his position, he was obliged to -indulge in great expense; and from want of strict economy, he had -gradually become oppressed with debt. He was married to a lady of great -virtue, who became a Christian, at first secretly, and afterwards -continued so, with her husband’s reluctant consent. In the meantime -their two children, a son and daughter, had received their domestic -education under her care. The former, Orontius, so called from the -favorite stream which watered the city, was fifteen when his father -first discovered his wife’s religion. He had learnt much from his mother -of the doctrines of Christianity, and had been with her an attendant on -Christian worship; and hence he possessed a dangerous knowledge, of -which he afterwards made so fatal a use. - -But he had not the least inclination to embrace the doctrines, or adopt -the practices of Christianity; nor would he hear of preparing for -baptism. He was wilful and artful, with no love for any restraint upon -his passions, or for any strict morality. He looked forward to -distinction in the world, and to his full share in all its enjoyments. -He had been, and continued to be, highly educated; and besides the Greek -language, then generally spoken at Antioch, he was acquainted with -Latin, which he spoke readily and gracefully, as we have seen, though -with a slight foreign accent. In the family, the vernacular idiom was -used with servants, and often in familiar conversation. Orontius was not -sorry when his father removed him from his mother’s control, and -insisted that he should continue to follow the dominant and favored -religion of the state. - -As to the daughter, who was three years younger, he did not so much -care. He deemed it foolish and unmanly to take much trouble about -religion; to change it especially, or abandon that of the empire, was, -he thought, a sign of weakness. But women being more imaginative, and -more under the sway of the feelings, might be indulged in any fancies of -this sort. Accordingly he permitted his daughter Miriam, whose name was -Syrian, as the mother belonged to a rich family from Edessa, to continue -in the free exercise of her new faith. She became, in addition to her -high mental cultivation, a model of virtue, simple and unpretending. It -was a period, we may observe, in which the city of Antioch was renowned -for the learning of its philosophers, some of whom were eminent as -Christians. - -A few years later, when the son had reached manhood, and had abundantly -unfolded his character, the mother died. Before her end, she had seen -symptoms of her husband’s impending ruin; and, determined that her -daughter should not be dependent on his careless administration, nor on -her son’s ominous selfishness and ambition, she secured effectually from -the covetousness of both, her own large fortune, which was settled on -her daughter. She resisted every influence, and every art, employed to -induce her to release this property, or allow it to merge in the family -resources, and be made available towards relieving their embarrassments. -And on her death-bed, among other solemn parental injunctions, she laid -this on her daughter’s filial sense of duty, that she never would allow, -after coming of age, any alteration in this arrangement. - -Matters grew worse and worse; creditors pressed; property had been -injudiciously disposed of; when a mysterious person, called Eurotas, -made his appearance in the family. No one but its head seemed to know -him; and he evidently looked upon him as at once a blessing and a curse, -the bearer both of salvation and of ruin. - -The reader is in possession of Eurotas’s own revelations; it is -sufficient to add, that being the elder brother, but conscious that his -rough, morose, and sinister character did not fit him for sustaining the -position of head of the family and administering quietly a settled -property, and having a haughty ambition to raise his house into a nobler -rank, and increase even its riches, he took but a moderate sum of money -as capital, vanished for years, embarked in the desperate traffic of -interior Asia, penetrated into China and India, and came back home with -a large fortune, and a collection of rare gems, which helped his -nephew’s brief career, but misguided him to ruin in Rome. - -Eurotas, instead of a rich family, into which to pour superfluous -wealth, found only a bankrupt house to save from ruin. But his family -pride prevailed; and after many reproaches, and bitter quarrels with his -brother, but concealed from all else, he paid off his debts by the -extinction of his own capital, and thus virtually became master of all -the wreck of his brother’s property, and of the entire family. - -After a few years of weary life, the father sickened and died. On his -death-bed, he told Orontius that he had nothing to leave him, that all -he had lived on for some years, the very house over his head, belonged -to his friend Eurotas, whose relationship he did not further explain, -whom he must look up to entirely for support and guidance. The youth -thus found himself, while full of pride, ambition, and voluptuousness, -in the hands of a cold-hearted, remorseless, and no less ambitious man, -who soon prescribed as the basis of mutual confidence, absolute -submission to his will, while he should act in the capacity of an -inferior, and the understood principle, that nothing was too great or -too little, nothing too good or too wicked to be done, to restore family -position and wealth. - -To stay at Antioch was impossible after the ruin which had overtaken the -house. With a good capital in hand, much might be done elsewhere. But -now, even the sale of all left would scarcely cover the liabilities -discovered after the father’s death. There was still untouched the -sister’s fortune; and both agreed that this _must_ be got from her. -Every artifice was tried, every persuasion employed, but she simply and -firmly resisted; both in obedience to her mother’s dying orders, and -because she had in view the establishment of a house for consecrated -virgins, in which she intended to pass her days. She was now just of -legal age to dispose of her own property. She offered them every -advantage that she could give them; proposed that for a time they should -all live together upon her means. But this did not answer their purpose; -and when every other course had failed, Eurotas began to hint, that one -who stood so much in their way should be got rid of at any cost. - -Orontius shuddered at the first proposal of the thought. Eurotas -familiarized him gradually with it, till--shrinking yet from the actual -commission of fratricide--he thought he had almost done something -virtuous, as the brothers of Joseph imagined they did, by adopting a -slower and less sanguinary method of dealing with an obnoxious brother. -Stratagem and unseen violence, of which no law could take cognizance, -and which no one would dare reveal, offered him the best chance of -success. - -Among the privileges of Christians in the first ages, we have already -mentioned that of reserving the Blessed Eucharist at home for domestic -communion. We have described the way in which it was enfolded in an -_orarium_, or linen cloth, again often preserved in a richer cover. This -precious gift was kept in a chest (_arca_) with a lid, as St. Cyprian -has informed us.[220] Orontius well knew this; and he was moreover aware -that its contents were more prized than silver or gold; that, as the -Fathers tell us, to drop negligently a crumb of the consecrated bread -was considered a crime;[221] and that the name of “pearl,” which was -given to the smallest fragment,[222] showed that it was so precious in a -Christian’s eye, that he would part with all he possessed to rescue it -from sacrilegious profanation. - -The scarf richly embroidered with pearls, which has more than once -affected our narrative, was the outer covering in which Miriam’s mother -had preserved this treasure; and her daughter valued it both as a dear -inheritance, and as a consecrated object, for she continued its use. - -One day, early in the morning, she knelt before her ark; and after -fervent preparation by prayer, proceeded to open it. To her dismay she -found it already unlocked, and her treasure gone! Like Mary Magdalen at -the sepulchre, she wept bitterly, because they had taken her Lord, and -she knew not where they had laid Him. Like her, too, “as she was weeping -she stooped down and looked” again into her ark, and found a paper, -which in the confusion of the first glance she had overlooked. - -It informed her that what she sought was safe in her brother’s hands, -and might be ransomed. She ran at once to him, where he was closeted -with the dark man, in whose presence she always trembled; threw herself -on her knees before him, and entreated him to restore what she valued -more than all her wealth. He was on the point of yielding to her tears -and supplications, when Eurotas fixed his stern eye upon him, overawed -him, then himself addressed her, saying: - -“Miriam, we take you at your word. We wish to put the earnestness and -reality of your faith to a sufficient test. Are you truly sincere in -what you offer?” - -“I will surrender any thing, all I have, to rescue from profanation the -Holy of Holies.” - -“Then sign that paper,” said Eurotas, with a sneer. - -She took the pen in her hand, and after running her eye over the -document, signed it. It was a surrender of her entire property to -Eurotas. Orontius was furious when he saw himself overreached, by the -man to whom he had suggested the snare for his sister. But it was too -late; he was only the faster in his unsparing gripe. A more formal -renunciation of her rights was exacted from Miriam, with the formalities -required by the Roman law. - -For a short time she was treated soothingly; then hints began to be -given to her of the necessity of moving, as Orontius and his friend -intended to proceed to Nicomedia, the imperial residence. She asked to -be sent to Jerusalem, where she would obtain admission into some -community of holy women. She was accordingly embarked on board a vessel, -the captain of which bore a suspicious character, and was very sparingly -supplied with means. But she bore round her neck what she had given -proof of valuing, more than any wealth. For, as St. Ambrose relates of -his brother Satyrus, yet a catechumen, Christians carried round their -necks the Holy Eucharist, when embarking for a voyage.[223] We need not -say that Miriam bore it securely folded in the only thing of price she -cared to take from her father’s house. - -When the vessel was out at sea, instead of coasting towards Joppe or any -port on the coast, the captain stood straight out, as if making for some -distant shore. What his purpose was, it was difficult to conjecture; but -his few passengers became alarmed, and a serious altercation ensued. -This was cut short by a sudden storm; the vessel was carried forward at -the mercy of the winds for some days, and then dashed to pieces on a -rocky island near Cyprus. Like Satyrus, Miriam attributed her reaching -the shore in safety to the precious burden which she bore. She was -almost the only survivor; at least she saw no other person saved. Those, -therefore, that did live besides, on returning to Antioch, reported her -death, together with that of the remaining passengers and crew. - -She was picked up on the shore by men who lived on such spoil. -Destitute and friendless, she was sold to a trader in slaves, taken to -Tarsus, on the mainland, and again sold to a person of high rank, who -treated her with kindness. - -After a short time, Fabius instructed one of his agents in Asia to -procure a slave of polished manners and virtuous character, if possible, -at any price, to attend on his daughter; and Miriam, under the name of -Syra, came to bring salvation to the house of Fabiola. - -[Illustration: Ordination, from a picture in the Catacombs.] - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -BRIGHT DEATH. - - -It was a few days after the occurrences related in our last chapter but -one, that Fabiola was told, that an old man in great anguish, real or -pretended, desired to speak with her. On going down to him and asking -him his name and business, he replied: - -“My name, noble lady, is Ephraim; and I have a large debt secured on the -property of the late Lady Agnes, which I understand has now passed into -your hands; and I am come, therefore, to claim it from you, for -otherwise I am a ruined man!” - -“How is that possible?” asked Fabiola in amazement. “I cannot believe -that my cousin ever contracted debts.” - -“No, not _she_,” rejoined the usurer, a little abashed; “but a gentleman -called Fulvius, to whom the property was to come by confiscation; so I -advanced him large sums upon it.” - -Her first impulse was to turn the man out of the house; but the thought -of the sister came to her mind, and she civilly said to him: - -“Whatever debts Fulvius has contracted I will discharge; but with only -legal interest, and without regard to usurious contracts.” - -“But think of the risks I ran, madam. I have been most moderate in my -rates, I assure you.” - -“Well,” she answered, “call on my steward, and he shall settle all. You -are running no risks now at least.” - -She gave instructions, accordingly, to the freed-man who managed her -affairs, to pay this sum on those conditions, which reduced it to one -half the demand. But she soon engaged him in a more laborious task, that -of going through the whole of her late father’s accounts, and -ascertaining every case of injury or oppression, that restitution might -be made. And further, having ascertained that Corvinus had really -obtained the imperial rescript, through his father, by which her own -lawful property was saved from confiscation, though she refused ever to -see him, she bestowed upon him such a remuneration as would ensure him -comfort through life. - -These temporal matters being soon disposed of, she divided her attention -between the care of the patient and preparation for her Christian -initiation. To promote Miriam’s recovery, she removed her, with a small -portion of her household, to a spot dear to both, the Nomentan villa. -The spring had set in, and Miriam could have her couch brought to the -window, or, in the warmest part of the day, could even be carried down -into the garden before the house, where, with Fabiola on one side and -Emerentiana on the other, and poor Molossus, who had lost all his -spirit, at her feet, they would talk of friends lost, and especially of -her with whom every object around was associated in their memories. And -no sooner was the name of Agnes mentioned, than her old faithful guard -would prick up his ears and wag his tail, and look around him. They -would also frequently discourse on Christian subjects, when Miriam would -follow up, humbly and unpretendingly, but with the warm glow which had -first charmed Fabiola, the instructions given by the holy Dionysius. - -Thus, for instance, when he had been treating of the virtue and meaning -of the sign of the cross to be used in baptism, “whether on the forehead -of believers, or over the water, by which they were to be regenerated, -or the oil with which, as well as the chrism, they were anointed, or the -sacrifice by which they are fed;”[224] Miriam explained to the -catechumens its more domestic and practical use, and exhorted them to -practise faithfully what all good Christians did, that is, to make this -holy sign upon themselves already, “in the course and at the beginning -of every work, on coming in and going out, when putting on their -clothes, or sandals, when they washed, sat down to table, lighted their -lamp, lay down in bed, or sat on a chair, in whatever conversation they -should be engaged.”[225] - -But it was observed with pain, by all but Fabiola, that the patient, -though the wound had healed, did not gain strength. It is often the -mother or sister that is last to see the slow waste of illness, in child -or sister. Love is so hopeful, and so blind! There was a hectic flush on -her cheek, she was emaciated and weak, and a slight cough was heard from -time to time. She lay long awake, and she desired to have her bed so -placed that from early dawn she could look out upon one spot more fair -to them all than the richest parterre. - -There had long been in the villa an entrance to the cemetery on this -road; but from this time it had already received the name of Agnes; for -near its entrance had this holy martyr been buried. Her body rested in a -_cubiculum_ or chamber, under an arched tomb. Just above the entrance -into this chamber, and in the middle of the grounds, was an opening, -surrounded above by a low parapet, concealed by shrubs, - -[Illustration: Fabiola went down herself, with a few servants, and what -was her distress at finding poor Emerentiana lying weltering in her -blood, and perfectly dead.] - -which gave light and air to the room below. Towards this point Miriam -loved to look, as the nearest approach she could make, in her infirm -health, to the sepulchre of one whom she so much venerated and loved. - -Early one morning, beautiful and calm, for it wanted but a few weeks to -Easter, she was looking in that direction, when she observed -half-a-dozen young men, who on their way to angle in the neighboring -Anio, were taking a short cut across the villa, and so committing a -trespass. They passed by this opening; and one of them, having looked -down, called the others. - -“This is one of those underground lurking-places of the Christians.” - -“One of their rabbit-holes into the burrow.” - -“Let us go in,” said one. - -“Yes, and how shall we get up again?” asked a second. - -This dialogue she could not hear, but she saw what followed it. One who -had looked down more carefully, shading his eyes from the light, called -the others to do the same, but with gestures which enjoined silence. In -a moment they pulled down large stones from the rock-work of a fountain, -close at hand, and threw down a volley of them at something below. They -laughed very heartily as they went away; and Miriam supposed that they -had seen some serpent or other noxious animal below, and had amused -themselves with pelting it. - -When others were stirring she mentioned the occurrence, that the stones -might be removed. Fabiola went down herself with a few servants, for she -was jealous of the custody of Agnes’s tomb. What was her distress at -finding poor Emerentiana gone down to pray at her foster-sister’s tomb, -lying weltering in her blood, and perfectly dead. It was discovered -that, the evening before, passing by some Pagan orgies near the river, -and being invited to join in them, she had not only refused, but had -reproached the partakers in them with their wickedness, and with their -cruelties to Christians. They assailed her with stones, and grievously -wounded her; but she escaped from their fury into the villa. Feeling -herself faint and wounded, she crept unnoticed to the tomb of Agnes, -there to pray. She had been unable to move away when some of her former -assailants discovered her. Those brutal Pagans had anticipated the -ministry of the Church, and had conferred upon her the baptism of blood. -She was buried near Agnes, and the modest peasant child received the -honor of annual commemoration among the Saints. - -Fabiola and her companions went through the usual course of preparation, -though abridged on account of the persecution. By living at the very -entrance into a cemetery, and one furnished with such large churches, -they were enabled to pass through the three stages of catechumenship. -First they were _hearers_,[226] admitted to be present, while the -lessons were read; then _kneelers_,[227] who assisted at a portion of -the liturgical prayers; and lastly _elect_, or _petitioners_[228] for -baptism. - -Once in this last class, they had to attend frequently in church, but -more particularly on the three Wednesdays following the first, the -fourth, and the last Sundays in Lent, on which days the Roman Missal yet -retains a second collect and lesson, derived from this custom. Any one -perusing the present rite of baptism in the Catholic Church, especially -that of adults, will see condensed into one office what used to be -anciently distributed through a variety of functions. On one day the -renunciation of Satan was made, previous to its repetition just before -baptism; on another the touching of the ears and nostrils, or the -_Ephpheta_, as it was called. Then were - -[Illustration: Baptism, in the Early Ages of the Church.] - -repeated exorcisms, and genuflections, and signings of crosses on the -forehead and body,[229] breathings upon the candidate, and other -mysterious rites. More solemn still was the unction, which was not -confined to the head, but extended to the whole body. - -The Creed was also faithfully learnt, and committed to memory. But the -doctrine of the Blessed Eucharist was not imparted till after baptism. - -In these multiplied preparatory exercises the penitential time of Lent -passed quickly and solemnly, till at last Easter-eve arrived. - -It does not fall to our lot to describe the ceremonial of the Church in -the administration of the Sacraments. The liturgical system received its -great developments after peace had been gained; and much that belongs to -outward forms and splendor was incompatible with the bitter persecution -which the Church was undergoing. - -It is enough for us to have shown, how not only doctrines and great -sacred rites, but how even ceremonies and accessories were the same in -the three first centuries as now. If our example is thought worth -following, some one will perhaps illustrate a brighter period than we -have chosen. - -The baptism of Fabiola and her household had nothing to cheer it but -purely spiritual joy. The titles in the city were all closed, and among -them that of St. Pastor with its papal baptistery. - -Early, therefore, on the morning of the auspicious day, the party crept -round the walls to the opposite side of the city, and following the Via -Portuensis, or road that led to the port at the mouth of the Tiber, -turned into a vineyard near Cæsar’s gardens, and descended into the -cemetery of Pontianus, celebrated as the resting-place of the Persian -martyrs, SS. Abdon and Sennen. - -The morning was spent in prayer and preparation, when towards evening -the solemn office, which was to be protracted through the night, -commenced. - -When the time for the administration of baptism arrived, it was indeed -but a dreary celebration that it introduced. Deep in the bowels of the -earth the waters of a subterranean stream had been gathered into a -square well or cistern, from four to five feet deep. They were clear, -indeed, but cold and bleak, if we may use the expression, in their -subterranean bath, formed out of the _tufa_, or volcanic rock. A long -flight of steps led down to this rude baptistery, a small ledge at the -side sufficed for the minister and the candidate, who was thrice -immersed in the purifying waters. - -The whole remains to this day, just as it was then, except that over the -water is now to be seen a painting of St. John baptizing our Lord, added -probably a century or two later. - -Immediately after Baptism followed Confirmation, and then the neophyte, -or new-born child of the Church, after due instruction, was admitted for -the first time to the table of his Lord, and nourished with the Bread of -angels. - -It was not till late on Easter-day that Fabiola returned to her villa; -and a long and silent embrace was her first greeting of Miriam. Both -were so happy, so blissful, so fully repaid for all that they had been -to one another for months, that no words could give expression to their -feelings. Fabiola’s grand idea and absorbing pride, that day was, that -now she had risen to the level of her former slave: not in virtue, not -in beauty of character, not in greatness of mind, not in heavenly -wisdom, not in merit before God; oh! no; in all this she felt herself -infinitely her inferior. But as a child of God, as heiress to an eternal -kingdom, as a living member of the body of Christ, as admitted to a -share in all His mercies, to all the price of His redemption, as a new -creature in Him, she felt that she was equal to Miriam, and with happy -glee she told her so. - -Never had she been so proud of splendid garment as she was of the white -robe, which she had received as she came out of the font, and which she -had to wear for eight days. - -But a merciful Father knows how to blend our joys and sorrows, and sends -us the latter when He has best prepared us for them. In that warm -embrace which we have mentioned, she for the first time noticed the -shortened breath, and heaving chest of her dear sister. She would not -dwell upon it in her thoughts, but sent to beg Dionysius to come on the -morrow. That evening they all kept their Easter banquet together; and -Fabiola felt happy to preside at Miriam’s side over a table, at which -reclined or sat her own converted slaves, and those of Agnes’s -household, all of whom she had retained. She never remembered having -enjoyed so delightful a supper. - -Early next morning, Miriam called Fabiola to her side, and with a fond, -caressing manner, which she had never before displayed, said to her: - -“My dear sister, what will you do, when I have left you?” - -Poor Fabiola was overpowered with grief. “Are you then going to leave -me? I had hoped we should live for ever as sisters together. But if you -wish to leave Rome, may I not accompany you, at least to nurse you, to -serve you?” - -Miriam smiled, but a tear was in her eye, as taking her sister’s hand, -she pointed up towards heaven. Fabiola understood her, and said: “O, no, -no, dearest sister. Pray to God, who will refuse you nothing, that I may -not lose you. It is selfish, I know; but what can I do without you? And -now too, that I have learnt how much they who reign with Christ can do -for us by intercession, I will pray to Agnes[230] and Sebastian, to -interpose for me, and avert so great a calamity. - -“Do get well: I am sure there is nothing serious in the matter; the warm -weather, and the genial climate of Campania, will soon restore you. We -will sit again together by the spring, and talk over better things than -philosophy.” - -Miriam shook her head, not mournfully, but cheerfully, as she replied: - -“Do not flatter yourself, dearest; God has spared me till I should see -this happy day. But His hand is on me now for death, as it has been -hitherto for life; and I hail it with joy. I know too well the number of -my days.” - -“Oh! let it not be so soon!” sobbed out Fabiola. - -“Not while you have on your white garment, dear sister,” answered -Miriam. “I know you would wish to mourn for me; but I would not rob you -of one hour of your mystic whiteness.” - -Dionysius came, and saw a great change in his patient, whom he had not -visited for some time. It was as he had feared it might be. The -insidious point of the dagger had curled round the bone, and injured the -pleura; and phthisis - -[Illustration: Administering the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, in the -Early Ages of the Church.] - -had rapidly set in. He confirmed Miriam’s most serious anticipations. - -Fabiola went to pray for resignation at the sepulchre of Agnes; she -prayed long and fervently, and with many tears, then returned. - -“Sister,” she said with firmness, “God’s will be done, I am ready to -resign even you to Him. Now, tell me, I entreat you, what would you have -me do, after you are taken from me?” - -Miriam looked up to heaven, and answered, “Lay my body at the feet of -Agnes, and remain to watch over us, to pray to her, and for me; until a -stranger shall arrive from the East, the bearer of good tidings.” - -On the Sunday following, “Sunday of the white garments,” Dionysius -celebrated, by special permission, the sacred mysteries in Miriam’s -room, and administered to her the most holy Communion, as her viaticum. -This private celebration, as we know from St. Augustine and others was -not a rare privilege.[231] Afterwards, he anointed her with oil, -accompanied by prayer, the last Sacrament which the Church bestows. - -Fabiola and the household who had attended these solemn rites, with -tears and prayers, now descended into the crypt, and after the divine -offices returned to Miriam in their darker raiment. - -“The hour is come,” said she, taking Fabiola’s hand. “Forgive me, if I -have been wanting in duty to you, and in good example.” - -This was more than Fabiola could stand, and she burst into tears. Miriam -soothed her, and said, “Put to my lips the sign of salvation when I can -speak no more; and, good Dionysius, remember me at God’s altar when I am -departed.” - -He prayed at her side, and she replied, till at length her voice failed -her. But her lips moved, and she pressed them on the cross presented to -her. She looked serene and joyful, till at length raising her hand to -her forehead, then bringing it to her breast, it fell dead there, in -making the saving sign. A smile passed over her face, and she expired, -as thousands of Christ’s children have expired since. - -Fabiola mourned much over her; but this time she mourned as they do who -have hope. - -[Illustration: Portrait of Our Saviour, from the Catacomb of St. -Callistus.] - -[Illustration: Constantine, the first Christian Emperor, after a medal -of the time.] - - - - -Part Third.--Victory. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE STRANGER FROM THE EAST. - - -We appear to ourselves to be walking in solitude. One by one, those -whose words and actions, and even thoughts, have hitherto accompanied -and sustained us, have dropped off, and the prospect around looks very -dreary. But is all this unnatural? We have been describing not an -ordinary period of peace and every-day life, but one of warfare, strife, -and battle. Is it unnatural that the bravest, the most heroic, should -have fallen thick around us? We have been reviving the memory of the -cruellest persecution which the Church ever suffered, when it was -proposed to erect a column bearing the inscription that the Christian -name had been extinguished. Is it strange that the holiest and purest -should have been the earliest to be crowned? - -And yet the Church of Christ has still to sustain many years of sharper -persecution than we have described. A succession of tyrants and -oppressors kept up the fearful war upon her, without intermission, in -one part of the world or another for twenty years, even after -Constantine had checked it wherever his power reached. Dioclesian, -Galerius, Maximinus, and Lucinius in the East, Maximian and Maxentius in -the West, allowed no rest to the Christians under their several -dominions. Like one of those rolling storms which go over half the -world, visiting various countries with their ravaging energy, while -their gloomy foreboding or sullen wake simultaneously overshadow them -all, so did this persecution wreak its fury first on one country, then -on another, destroying every thing Christian, passing from Italy to -Africa, from Upper Asia to Palestine, Egypt, and then back to Armenia, -while it left no place in actual peace, but hung like a blighting -storm-cloud over the entire empire. - -[Illustration: DIOCLESIAN. - -After a medal in the Cabinet of France.] - -[Illustration: LUCINIUS. - -From a Gold Medal in the French Collection.] - -[Illustration: MAXENTIUS. - -From a Silver Medal in the French Collection.] - -[Illustration: GALERIUS-MAXIMINUS. - -From a Silver Medal in the French Collection.] - -And yet the Church increased, prospered, and defied this world of sin. -Pontiff stepped after Pontiff at once upon the footstool of the papal -throne and upon the scaffold; councils were held in the dark halls of -the catacombs; bishops came to Rome, at risk of their lives, to consult -the successor of St. Peter; letters were exchanged between Churches far -distant and the supreme Ruler of Christendom, and between different -Churches, full of sympathy, encouragement and affection; bishop -succeeded bishop in his see, and ordained priests and other ministers to -take the place of the fallen, and be a mark set upon the bulwarks of the -city for the enemy’s aim; and the work of Christ’s imperishable kingdom -went on without interruption, and without fear of extinction. - -Indeed it was in the midst of all these alarms and conflicts, that the -foundations were being laid of a mighty system, destined to produce -stupendous effects in after ages. The persecution drove many from the -cities, into the deserts of Egypt, where the monastic state grew up, so -as to make “the wilderness rejoice and flourish like the lily bud forth -and blossom, and rejoice with joy and praise.”[232] And so, when -Dioclesian had been degraded from the purple, and had died a peevish -destitute old man, and Galerius had been eaten up alive by ulcers and -worms, and had acknowledged, by public edict, the failure of his -attempts, and Maximian Herculeus had strangled himself, and Maxentius -had perished in the Tiber, and Maximinus had expired amidst tortures -inflicted by Divine justice equal to any he had inflicted on Christians, -his very eyes having started from their sockets, and Licinius had been -put to death by Constantine; the spouse of Christ, whom they had all -conspired to destroy, stood young and blooming as ever, about to enter -into her great career of universal diffusion and rule. - -It was in the year 313 that Constantine, having defeated Maxentius, gave -full liberty to the Church. Even if ancient writers had not described -it, we may imagine the joy and gratitude of the poor Christians on this -great change. It was like the coming forth, and tearful though happy -greeting, of the inhabitants of a city decimated by plague, when -proclamation has gone forth that the infection has ceased. For here, -after ten years of separation and concealment, when families could -scarcely meet in the cemeteries nearest to them, many did not know who -among friends or kinsfolk had fallen victims, or who might yet survive. -Timid at first, and then more courageous, they ventured forth; soon the -places of old assembly, which children born in the last ten years had -not seen, were cleansed, or repaired, refitted and reconciled,[233] and -opened to public, and now fearless, worship. - -[Illustration: The _Labarum_ or Christian Standard. From a coin of -Constantine.] - -Constantine also ordered all property, public or private, belonging to -Christians and confiscated, to be restored; but with the wise provision -that the actual holders should be indemnified by the imperial -treasury.[234] The Church was soon in motion to bring out all the -resources of her beautiful forms and institutions; and either the -existing basilicas were converted to her uses, or new ones were built on -the most cherished spots of Rome. - -Let not the reader fear that we are going to lead him forward into a -long history. This will belong to some one better qualified, for the -task of unfolding the grandeur and charms of free and unfettered -Christianity. We have only to show the land of promise from above, -spread like an inviting paradise before our feet; we are not the Josue -that must lead others in. The little that we have to add in this brief -third part of our humble book, is barely what is necessary for its -completion. - -We will then suppose ourselves arrived at the year 318, fifteen years -after our last scene of death. Time and permanent laws have given -security to the Christian religion, and the Church is likewise more -fully establishing her organization. - -[Illustration: A Marriage in the Early Ages of the Church.] - -Many who on the return of peace had hung down their heads, having by -some act of weak condescension escaped death, had by this time expiated -their fall by penance; and now and then an aged stranger would be -saluted reverently by the passers-by, when they saw that his right eye -had been burned out, or his hand mutilated; or when his halting gait -showed that the tendons of the knee had been severed, in the late -persecution, for Christ’s sake.[235] - -If at this period our friendly reader will follow us out of the Nomentan -gate, to the valley with which he is already acquainted, he will find -sad havoc among the beautiful trees and flower-beds of Fabiola’s villa. -Scaffold-poles are standing up in place of the first; bricks, marbles, -and columns lie upon the latter. Constantia, the daughter of -Constantine, had prayed at St. Agnes’s tomb, when not yet a Christian, -to beg the cure of a virulent ulcer, had been refreshed by a vision, and -completely cured. Being now baptized, she was repaying her debt of -gratitude, by building over her tomb her beautiful basilica. Still the -faithful had access to the crypt in which she was buried; and great was -the concourse of pilgrims, that came from all parts of the world. - -One afternoon, when Fabiola returned from the city to her villa, after -spending the day in attending to the sick, in an hospital established in -her own house, the _fossor_, who had charge of the cemetery, met her -with an air of great interest, and no small excitement, and said: - -“Madam, I sincerely believe that the stranger from the East, whom you -have so long expected, is arrived.” - -Fabiola, who had ever treasured up the dying words of Miriam, eagerly -asked, “Where is he?” - -“He is gone again,” was the reply. - -The lady’s countenance fell. “But how,” she asked again, “do you know it -was he?” The excavator replied: - -“In the course of the morning I noticed, among the crowd, a man not yet -fifty, but worn by mortification and sorrow, to premature old age. His -hair was nearly grey, as was his long beard. His dress was eastern, and -he wore the cloak which the monks from that country usually do. When he -came before the tomb of Agnes, he flung himself upon the pavement with -such a passion of tears, such groans, such sobs, as moved all around to -compassion. Many approached him, and whispered, ‘Brother, thou art in -great distress; weep not so, the saint is merciful.’ Others said to him, -‘We will all pray for thee, fear not.’[236] But he seemed to be beyond -comfort. I thought to myself, surely in the presence of so gentle and -kind a saint, none ought to be thus disconsolate or heart-broken, except -only one man.” - -“Go on, go on,” broke in Fabiola; “what did he next?” - -“After a long time,” continued the fossor, “he arose, and drawing from -his bosom a most beautiful and sparkling ring, he laid it on her tomb. I -thought I had seen it before, many years ago.” - -“And then?” - -“Turning round he saw me, and recognized my dress. He approached me, and -I could feel him trembling, as, without looking in my face, he timidly -asked me: ‘Brother, knowest thou if there lie buried any where here -about a maiden from Syria, called Miriam?’ I pointed silently to the -tomb. After a pause of great pain to himself, so agitated now that his -voice faltered, he asked me again: ‘Knowest thou, brother, of what she -died?’ ‘Of consumption,’ I replied. ‘Thank God!’ he ejaculated, with the -sigh of relieved anguish, and fell prostrate on the ground. Here too he -moaned and cried for more than an hour, then, approaching the tomb, -affectionately kissed its cover, and retired.” - -“It is he, Torquatus, it is he!” warmly exclaimed Fabiola; “why did you -not detain him?” - -“I durst not, lady; after I had once seen his face, I had not courage to -meet his eye. But I am sure he will return again; for he went towards -the city.” - -[Illustration: Noe and the Ark, as a symbol of the Church, from a -picture in the Catacombs.] - -“He must be found,” concluded Fabiola. “Dear Miriam, thou hadst, then, -this consoling foresight in death!” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE STRANGER IN ROME. - - -Early next morning, the pilgrim was passing through the Forum, when he -saw a group of persons gathered round one whom they were evidently -teasing. He would have paid but little attention to such a scene in a -public thoroughfare, had not his ear caught a name familiar to it. He -therefore drew nigh. In the centre was a man, younger than himself; but -if _he_ looked older than he was, from being wan and attenuated, the -other did so much more from being the very contrary. He was bald and -bloated, with a face swelled, and red, and covered with blotches and -boils. A drunken cunning swam in his eye, and his gait and tone were -those of a man habitually intoxicated. His clothes were dirty, and his -whole person neglected. - -“Ay, ay, Corvinus,” one youth was saying to him, “won’t you get your -deserts, now? Have you not heard that Constantine is coming this year to -Rome, and don’t you think the Christians will have their turn about -now?” - -“Not they,” answered the man we have described, “they have not the pluck -for it. I remember we feared it, when Constantine published his first -edict, after the death of Maxentius, about liberty for the Christians, -but next year he put us out of fear, by declaring all religions to be -equally permitted.”[237] - -“That is all very well, as a general rule,” interposed another, -determined further to plague him; “but is it not supposed that he is -going to look up those who took an active part in the late persecution, -and have the _lex talionis_,[238] executed on them; stripe for stripe, -burning for burning, and wild beast for wild beast?” - -“Who says so?” asked Corvinus turning pale. - -“Why, it would surely be very natural,” said one. - -“And very just,” added another. - -“Oh, never mind,” said Corvinus, “they will always let one off for -turning Christian. And, I am sure, I would turn any thing, rather than -stand--” - -“Where Pancratius stood,” interposed a third, more malicious. - -“Hold your tongue,” broke out the drunkard, with a tone of positive -rage. “Mention his name again, if you dare!” And he raised his fist, and -looked furiously at the speaker. - -“Ay, because he told you how you were to die,” shouted the youngster, -running away. “Heigh! Heigh! a panther here for Corvinus!” - -All ran away before the human beast, now lashed into fury, more than -they would have done from the wild one of the desert. He cursed them, -and threw stones after them. - -The pilgrim, from a short distance, watched the close of the scene, then -went on. Corvinus moved slowly along the same road, that which led -towards the Lateran basilica, now the Cathedral of Rome. Suddenly a -sharp growl was heard, and with it a piercing shriek. As they were -passing by the Coliseum, near the dens of the wild beasts, which were -prepared for combats among themselves, on occasion of the emperor’s -visit, Corvinus, impelled by the morbid curiosity natural to persons who -consider themselves victims of some fatality, connected with a -particular object, approached the cage in which a splendid panther was -kept. He went close to the bars, and provoked the animal, by gestures -and words; saying: “Very likely, indeed, that you are to be the death of -me! You are very safe in your den.” In that instant, the enraged animal -made a spring at him, and through the wide bars of the den, caught his -neck and throat in its fangs, and inflicted a frightful lacerated wound. - -The wretched man was picked up, and carried to his lodgings, not far -off. The stranger followed him, and found them mean, dirty, and -uncomfortable in the extreme; with only an old and decrepit slave, -apparently as sottish as his master, to attend him. The stranger sent -him out to procure a surgeon, who was long in coming; and, in the -meantime, did his best to stanch the blood. - -While he was so occupied, Corvinus fixed his eyes upon him with a look -of one delirious, or demented. - -“Do you know me?” asked the pilgrim, soothingly. - -“Know you? No--yes. Let me see--Ha! the fox! my fox! Do you remember our -hunting together those hateful Christians. Where have you been all this -time? How many of them have you caught?” And he laughed outrageously. - -“Peace, peace, Corvinus,” replied the other. “You must be very quiet, or -there is no hope for you. Besides, I do not wish you to allude to those -times; for I am myself now a Christian.” - -“You a Christian?” broke out Corvinus savagely. “You who have shed more -of their best blood than any man? Have you been forgiven for all this? -Or have you slept quietly upon it? Have no furies lashed you at night? -no phantoms haunted you? no viper sucked your heart? If so, tell me how -you have got rid of them all, that I may do the same. If not, they will -come, they will come! Vengeance and fury! why should they not have -tormented you as much as me?” - -“Silence, Corvinus; I have suffered as you have. But I have found the -remedy, and will make it known to you, as soon as the physician has seen -you, for he is approaching.” - -The doctor saw him, dressed the wound, but gave little hope of recovery, -especially in a patient whose very blood was tainted by intemperance. - -The stranger now resumed his seat beside him, and spoke of the mercy of -God, and His readiness to forgive the worst of sinners; whereof he -himself was a living proof. The unhappy man seemed to be in a sort of -stupor; if he listened, not comprehending what was said. At length his -kind instructor, having expounded to him the fundamental mysteries of -Christianity, in hope, rather than certainty, of being attended to, went -on to say: - -“And now, Corvinus, you will ask me, how is forgiveness to be applied to -one who believes all this? It is by Baptism, by being born again of -water and the Holy Ghost.” - -“What?” exclaimed the sick man loathingly. - -“By being washed in the laver of regenerating water.” - -He was interrupted by a convulsive growl rather than a moan. “Water! -water! no water for me! Take it away!” And a strong spasm seized the -patient’s throat. - -His attendant was alarmed, but sought to calm him. “Think not,” he said, -“that you are to be taken hence in your present fever, and to be plunged -into water” (the sick man shuddered, and moaned); “in clinical -baptism,[239] a few drops suffice, not more than is in this pitcher.” -And he showed him the water in a small vessel. At the sight of it, the -patient writhed and foamed at the mouth, and was shaken by a violent -convulsion. The sounds that proceeded from him, resembled a howl from a -wild beast, more than any utterance of human lips. - -The pilgrim saw at once that hydrophobia, with all its horrible -symptoms, had come upon the patient, from the bite of the enraged -animal. It was with difficulty that he and the servant could hold him -down at times. Occasionally he broke out into frightful paroxysms of -blasphemous violence against God and man. And then, when this subsided, -he would go on moaning thus; - -“Water they want to give me! water! water! none for me! It is fire! -fire! that I have, and that is my portion. I am already on fire, within, -without! Look how it comes creeping up, all round me, it advances every -moment nearer and nearer!” And he beat off the fancied flame with his -hands on either side of his bed, and he blew at it round his head. Then -turning towards his sorrowful attendants, he would say, “why don’t you -put it out? you see it is already burning me.” - -Thus passed the dreary day, and thus came the dismal night, when the -fever increased, and with it the delirium, and the violent accesses of -fury, though the body was sinking. At length he raised himself up in -bed, and looking with half-glazed eyes straight before him, he exclaimed -in a voice choked with bitter rage: - -“Away, Pancratius, begone! Thou hast glared on me long enough. Keep back -thy panther! Hold it fast; it is going to fly at my throat. It comes! -Oh!” And with a convulsive grasp, as if pulling the beast from off his -throat, he plucked away the bandage from his wound. A gush of blood -poured over him, and he fell back, a hideous corpse, upon the bed. - -[Illustration: The Sacrifice of Abraham, from a picture in the -Catacombs.] - -His friend saw how unrepenting persecutors died. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -AND LAST. - - -The next morning, the pilgrim proceeded to discharge the business which -had been interfered with by the circumstances related in the preceding -chapter. He might have been first seen busily employed inquiring after -some one about the Januses in the Forum. At length, the person was -found; and the two walked towards a dirty little office under the -Capitol, on the ascent called the _Clivus Asyli_. Old musty books were -brought out, and searched column after column, till they came to the -date of the “Consuls Dioclesian Augustus, the eighth time, and Maximian -Herculeus Augustus, the seventh time.”[240] Here they found sundry -entries, with reference to certain documents. A roll of mouldy -parchments of that date was produced, docketed as referred to, and the -number corresponding to the entries was drawn out, and examined. The -result of the investigation seemed perfectly satisfactory to both -parties. - -“It is the first time in my life,” said the owner of the den, “that I -ever knew a person who had got clear off, come back, after fifteen -years, to inquire after his debts. A Christian, I presume, sir?” - -“Certainly, by God’s mercy.” - -“I thought as much; good morning, sir. I shall be happy to accommodate -you at any time, at as reasonable rates as my father Ephraim, now with -Abraham. A great fool that for his pains, I must say, begging his -pardon,” he added, when the stranger was out of hearing. - -With a decided step and a brighter countenance than he had yet -displayed, he went straight to the villa on the Nomentan way; and after -again paying his devotions in the crypt, but with a lighter heart, he at -once addressed the fossor, as if they had never been parted: “Torquatus, -can I speak with the Lady Fabiola?” - -“Certainly,” answered the other; “come this way.” - -Neither alluded, as they went along, to old times, nor to the -intermediate history of either. There seemed to be an understanding, -instinctive to both, that all the past was to be obliterated before men, -as they hoped it was before God. Fabiola had remained at home that and -the preceding day, in hopes of the stranger’s return. She was seated in -the garden close to a fountain, when Torquatus, pointing to her, -retired. - -She rose, as she saw the long-expected visitor approach, and an -indescribable emotion thrilled through her, when she found herself -standing in his presence. - -“Madam,” he said, in a tone of deep humility and earnest simplicity. “I -should never have presumed to present myself before you, had not an -obligation of justice, as well as many of gratitude, obliged me.” - -“Orontius,” she replied,--“is this the name by which I must address -you?” (he signified his assent) “you can have no obligations towards me, -except that which our great Apostle charges on us, that we love one -another.” - -“I know you feel so. And therefore I would not have pretended, unworthy -as I am, to intrude upon you for any lower motive than one of strict -duty. I know what gratitude I owe you for the kindness and affection -lavished upon one now dearer to me than any sister can be on earth, and -how you discharged towards her the offices of love which I had -neglected.” - -“And thereby sent her to me,” interposed Fabiola, “to be my angel of -life. Remember, Orontius, that Joseph was sold by his brethren, only -that he might save his race.” - -“You are too good, indeed, towards one so worthless,” resumed the -pilgrim; “but I will not thank you for your kindness to another who has -repaid you so richly. Only this morning I have learnt your mercy to one -who could have no claim upon you.” - -“I do not understand you,” observed Fabiola. - -“Then I will tell you all plainly,” rejoined Orontius. “I have now been -for many years a member of one of those communities in Palestine, of men -who live separated from the world in desert places, dividing their day, -and even their night, between singing the Divine praises, contemplation, -and the labor of their hands. Severe penance for our past -transgressions, fasting, mourning, and prayer form the great duty of our -penitential state. Have you heard of such men here?” - -“The fame of holy Paul and Anthony is as great in the West as in the -East,” replied the lady. - -“It is with the greatest disciple of the latter that I have lived, -supported by his great example, and the consolation he has given me. But -one thought troubled me, and prevented my feeling complete assurance of -safety even after years of expiation. Before I left Rome I had -contracted a heavy debt, which must have been accumulating at a -frightful rate of interest, till it had reached an overwhelming amount. -Yet it was an obligation deliberately contracted, and not to be justly -evaded. I was a poor cenobite,[241] barely living on the produce of the -few palm-leaf mats that I could weave, and the scanty herbs that would -grow in the sand. How could I discharge my obligations? - -“Only one means remained. I could give myself up to my creditor as a -slave, to labor for him and endure his blows and scornful reproaches in -patience, or to be sold by him for my value, for I am yet strong. In -either case, I should have had my Saviour’s example to cheer and support -me. At any rate, I should have given up all that I had--myself. - -“I went this morning to the Forum, found my creditor’s son, examined his -accounts, and found that you had discharged my debt in full. I am, -therefore, your bondsman, Lady Fabiola, instead of the Jew’s.” And he -knelt humbly at her feet. - -“Rise, rise,” said Fabiola, turning away her weeping eyes. “You are no -bondsman of mine, but a dear brother in our common Lord.” - -Then sitting down with him, she said: “Orontius, I have a great favor to -ask from you. Give me some account of how you were brought to that life, -which you have so generously embraced.” - -“I will obey you as briefly as possible. I fled, as you know, one -sorrowful night from Rome, accompanied by a man”--his voice choked him. - -“I know, I know whom you mean,--Eurotas,” interrupted Fabiola. - -“The same, the curse of our house, the author of all mine, and my dear -sister’s, sufferings. We had to charter a vessel at great expense from -Brundusium, whence we sailed for Cyprus. We attempted commerce and -various speculations, but all failed. There was manifestly a curse on -all that we undertook. Our means melted away, and we were obliged to -seek some other country. We crossed over to Palestine, and settled for a -while at Gaza. Very soon we were reduced to distress; every body shunned -us, we knew not why; but my conscience told me that the mark of Cain was -on my brow.” - -Orontius paused and wept for a time, then went on: - -“At length, when all was exhausted, and nothing remained but a few -jewels, of considerable price indeed, but with which, I knew not why, -Eurotas would not part, he urged me to take up the odious office of -denouncing Christians; for a furious persecution was breaking out. For -the first time in my life I rebelled against his commands, and refused -to obey. One day he asked me to walk out of the gates; we wandered far, -till we came to a delightful spot in the midst of the desert. It was a -narrow dell, covered with verdure, and shaded by palm-trees; a little -clear stream ran down, issuing from a spring in a rock at the head of -the valley. In this rock we saw grottoes and caverns; but the place -seemed uninhabited. Not a sound could be heard but the bubbling of the -water. - -“We sat down to rest, when Eurotas addressed me in a fearful speech. The -time was come, he told me, when we must both fulfil the dreadful -resolution he had taken, that we must not survive the ruin of our -family. Here we must both die; the wild beasts would consume our bodies, -and no one would know the end of its last representatives. - -“So saying, he drew forth two small flasks of unequal sizes, handed me -the larger one, and swallowed the contents of the smaller. - -“I refused to take it, and even reproached him for the difference of our -doses; but he replied that he was old, and I young; and that they were -proportioned to our respective strengths. I still refused, having no -wish to die. But a sort of demoniacal fury seemed to come over him; he -seized me with a giant’s grasp, as I sat on the ground, threw me on my -back, and exclaiming, ‘We must both perish together,’ forcibly poured -the contents of the phial, without sparing me a drop, down my throat. - -“In an instant, I was unconscious; and remained so, till I awoke in a -cavern, and faintly called for drink. A venerable old man, with a white -beard, put a wooden bowl of water to my lips. ‘Where is Eurotas?’ I -asked. ‘Is that your companion?’ inquired the old monk. ‘Yes,’ I -answered. ‘He is dead,’ was the reply. I know not by what fatality this -had happened; but I bless God with all my heart, for having spared me. - -“That old man was Hilarion, a native of Gaza, who, having spent many -years with the holy Anthony in Egypt, had that year[242] returned to -establish the cenobitic and eremitical life in his own country, and had -already collected several disciples. They lived in the caves hard by, -and took their refection under the shade of those palms, and softened -their dry food in the water of that fountain. - -“Their kindness to me, their cheerful piety, their holy lives, won on me -as I recovered. I saw the religion which I had persecuted in a sublime -form; and rapidly recalled to mind the instructions of my dear mother, -and the example of my sister; so that yielding to grace, I bewailed my -sins at the feet of God’s minister,[243] and received baptism on -Easter-eve.” - -“Then we are doubly brethren, nay twin children of the Church; for I was -born to eternal life, also, on that day. But what do you intend to do -now?” - -“Set out this evening on my return. I have accomplished the two objects -of my journey. The first was to cancel my debt; my second was to lay an -offering on the shrine of Agnes. You will remember,” he added, smiling, -“that your good father unintentionally deceived me into the idea, that -she coveted the jewels I displayed. Fool that I was! But I resolved, -after my conversion, that she should possess the best that remained in -Eurotas’s keeping; so I brought it to her.” - -“But have you means for your journey?” asked the lady, timidly. - -“Abundant,” he replied, “in the charity of the faithful. I have letters -from the Bishop of Gaza, which procure me every where sustenance and -lodging; but I will accept from you a cup of water and a morsel of -bread, in the name of a disciple.” - -They rose, and were advancing towards the house, when a woman rushed -madly through the shrubs, and fell at their feet, exclaiming: “Oh, save -me! dear mistress, save me! He is pursuing me, to kill me!” - -Fabiola recognized, in the poor creature, her former slave Jubala; but -her hair was grizzly and dishevelled, and her whole aspect bespoke -abject misery. She asked whom she meant. - -“My husband,” she replied; “long has he been harsh and cruel, but to-day -he is more brutal than usual. Oh, save me from him!” - -“There is no danger here,” replied the lady; “but I fear, Jubala, you -are far from happy. I have not seen you for a long, long time.” - -“No, dear lady, why should I come to tell you of all my woes? Oh! why -did I ever leave you and your house, where I ought to have been so -happy? I might then with you, and Graja, and good old departed -Euphrosyne, have learnt to be good myself, and have embraced -Christianity!” - -“What, have you really been thinking of this, Jubala?” - -“For a long time, lady, in my sorrows and remorse. For I have seen how -happy Christians are, even those who have been as wicked as myself. And -because I hinted this to my husband this morning, he has beaten me, and -threatened to take my life. But, thank God, I have been making myself -acquainted with Christian doctrines, through the teaching of a friend.” - -“How long has this bad treatment gone on, Jubala?” asked Orontius, who -had heard of it from his uncle. - -“Ever,” she replied, “since soon after marriage, I told him of an offer -made to me previously, by a dark foreigner, named Eurotas. Oh! he was -indeed a wicked man, a man of black passions and remorseless villany. -Connected with him, is my most racking recollection.” - -“How was that?” asked Orontius, with eager curiosity. - -“Why, when he was leaving Rome, he asked me to prepare for him two -narcotic potions; one for any enemy, he said, should he be taken -prisoner. This was to be certainly fatal; another had to suspend -consciousness for a few hours only, should he require it for himself. - -“When he came for them, I was just going to explain to him, that, -contrary to appearances, the small phial contained a fatally -concentrated poison, and the large one a more diluted and weaker dose. -But my husband came in at the moment, and in a fit of jealousy thrust me -from the room. I fear some mistake may have been committed, and that -unintentional death may have ensued.” - -Fabiola and Orontius looked at one another in silence, wondering at the -just dispensations of Providence; when they were aroused by a shriek -from the woman. They were horrified at seeing an arrow quivering in her -bosom. As Fabiola supported her, Orontius, looking behind him, caught a -glimpse of a black face grinning hideously through the fence. In the -next moment a Numidian was seen flying away on his horse, with his bow -bent, Parthian-wise over his shoulder, ready for any pursuer. The arrow -had passed, unobserved, between Orontius and the lady. - -“Jubala,” asked Fabiola, “dost thou wish to die a Christian?” - -“Most earnestly,” she replied. - -“Dost thou believe in One God in Three Persons?” - -“I firmly believe in all the Christian Church teaches.” - -“And in Jesus Christ, who was born and died for our sins?” - -“Yes, in all that you believe.” The reply was more faint. - -“Make haste, make haste, Orontius,” cried Fabiola, pointing to the -fountain. - -He was already at its basin, filling full his two hands, and coming -instantly, poured their contents on the head of the poor African, -pronouncing the words of baptism; and, as she expired, the water of -regeneration mingled with her blood of expiation. - -After this distressing, yet consoling, scene, they entered the house, -and instructed Torquatus about the burial to be given to this -doubly-baptized convert. - -Orontius was struck with the simple neatness of the house, so strongly -contrasting with the luxurious splendor of Fabiola’s former dwelling. -But suddenly his attention was arrested, in a small inner room, by a -splendid shrine or casket, set with jewels, but with an embroidered -curtain before it, so as to allow only the frame of it to be seen. -Approaching nearer, he read inscribed on it: - -“THE BLOOD OF THE BLESSED MIRIAM, SHED BY CRUEL HANDS!” - -Orontius turned deadly pale; then changed to a deep crimson; and almost -staggered. - -Fabiola saw this, and going up to him kindly and frankly, placed her -hand upon his arm, and mildly said to him: - -“Orontius, there is that within, which may well make us both blush -deeply, but not therefore despond.” - -So saying she drew aside the curtain, and Orontius saw within a crystal -plate, the embroidered scarf so much connected with his own, and his -sister’s history. Upon it were lying two sharp weapons, the points of -both which were rusted with blood. In one he recognized his own dagger; -the other appeared to him like one of those instruments of female -vengeance, with which he knew heathen ladies punished their attendant -slaves. - -“We have both,” said Fabiola, “unintentionally inflicted a wound, and -shed the blood of her, whom now we honor as a sister in heaven. But for -my part, from the day when I did so, and gave her occasion to display -her virtue, I date the dawn of grace upon my soul. What say you, -Orontius?” - -“That I, likewise, from the instant that I so misused her, and led to -her exhibition of such Christian heroism, began to feel the hand of God -upon me, that has led me to repentance and forgiveness.” - -“It is thus ever,” concluded Fabiola. “The example of our Lord has made -the martyrs; and the example of the martyrs leads us upwards to Him. -Their blood softens our hearts; His alone cleanses our souls. Theirs -pleads for mercy; His bestows it. - -“May the Church, in her days of peace and of victories, never forget -what she owes to the age of her martyrs. As for us two, we are indebted -to it for our spiritual lives. May many, who will only read of it, draw -from it the same mercy and grace!” - -They knelt down, and prayed long together silently before the shrine. - -They then parted, to meet no more. - -After a few years, spent by Orontius in penitential fervor, a green -mound by the palms, in the little dell near Gaza, marked the spot where -he slept the sleep of the just. - -And after many years of charity and holiness, Fabiola withdrew to rest -in peace, in company with Agnes and Miriam. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Hot-baths. - -[2] Lib. iv. ep. 16. - -[3] The Pompeian Court in the Crystal Palace, London, will have -familiarized many readers with the forms of an ancient house. - -[4] This custom suggests to St. Augustine the beautiful idea, that the -Jews were the _pædagogi_ of Christianity,--carrying for it the books -which they themselves could not understand. - -[5] The peculiar epithet of the Catacombs. - -[6] The _pancratium_ was the exercise which combined all other personal -contests,--wrestling, boxing, etc. - -[7] The implements of writing in schools, the tablets being covered -with wax, on which the letters were traced by the sharp point, and -effaced by the flat top, of the style. - -[8] The hand-bandages worn in pugilistic combats. - -[9] One of the many calumnies popular among the heathens. - -[10] This scene is taken from a real occurrence. - -[11] Church and gate of San Pancrazio. - -[12] Old St. Pancras’s Church, London, the favorite burial-place of -Catholics, till they had cemeteries of their own. - -[13] Anastastasius, Biblioth, _in vita Honorii_. - -[14] Pronounced with the accent on the _i_. - -[15] The milk of 500 asses per day was required to furnish Poppæa, -Nero’s wife, with one cosmetic. - -[16] The dining-hall. - -[17] Black antimony applied on the eyelids. - -[18] Not all of me will die. - -[19] Job xix. 27. - -[20] See the noble answer of Evalpistus, an imperial slave, to the -judge, in the Acts of St. Justin, ap. Ruinart, tom. i. - -[21] Church. - -[22] “Thy eyes are as those of cloves.”--_Cantic._ i. 14. - -[23] Twelve was the age for marriage according to the Roman law. - -[24] “Annulo fidei suæ subarrhavit me, et immensis monilibus ornavit -me.”--_Office of St. Agnes._ - -[25] “Dexteram meam et collum meum cinxit lapidibus pretiosis, tradidit -auribus meis inæstimabiles margaritas.” - -[26] So called from its resemblance to the letter C, the old form of Σ. - -[27] Gloves. - -[28] Lucian: De Morte Peregrini. - -[29] “Magnificæ nemo negat; sed quæ potest esse homini polito -delectatio, quum aut homo imbecillus a valentissima bestia laniatur, -aut præclara bestia venabulo transverberatur?”--_Ep. ad Fam._ lib. vii. -ep. 1. - -[30] Porridge. - -[31] Vengeance. - -[32] 1 Cor. vii. 24. - -[33] 1 Pet. ii. 14. - -[34] A famous sorceress in Augustus’s age. - -[35] The worship of interior Africa. - -[36] “The sweating goal.” It was an obelisk of brick (which yet -remains), cased with marble, from the top of which issued water, and -flowed down like a sheet of glass, all round it, into a basin on the -ground. - -[37] The triumphal arch of Titus, on which are represented the spoils -of the Temple. - -[38] The arch of Constantine stands exactly under the spot where this -scene is described. - -[39] The place where live beasts were kept for the shows. - -[40] Gaeta. - -[41] The generic name for the wild beasts of that continent, as opposed -to bears and others from the north. - -[42] It is not mentioned what it precisely was. - -[43] These were the popular ideas of Christian worship. - -[44] Now Monte Cavo, above Albano. - -[45] “Vidi supra montem Agnum stantem, de sub cujus pede fons vivus -emanat.”--_Office of St. Clement._ - -[46] Ammianus Marcellinus tells us that, at the decline of the -empire, the streets at night were lighted so as to rival day. “Et hæc -confidenter agebat (Gallus) ubi pernoctantium luminum claritudo dierum -solet imitari fulgorem.” Lib. xiv. c. 1. - -[47] Roma Subterr. 1. iii. c. 22. - -[48] Euseb. E. H. 1. vi. c. 43. - -[49] No domestic concealment surely could be more difficult than that -of a wife’s religion from her husband. Yet Tertullian supposes this to -have been not uncommon. For, speaking of a married woman communicating -herself at home, according to practice in those ages of persecution, he -says, “Let not your husband know what you taste secretly, before every -other food; and if he shall know of the bread, may he not know it to -be what it is called.” _Ad Uxor._ lib. ii. c. 5. Whereas, in another -place, he writes of a Catholic husband and wife giving communion to one -another. _De Monogamia_, c. 11. - -[50] The Vicus Patricius. - -[51] Job xxix. 15. - -[52] The place most noted in the neighborhood of Rome for whining and -importunate beggars. - -[53] Is. i. 9. - -[54] “Ne quis hæredem virginem neque mulierem faceret,” that no one -should leave a virgin or a woman his heiress.--_Cicero in Verrem_, i. - -[55] The upper part of the Quirinal, leading to the Nomentan gate, -_Porta Pia_. - -[56] “Cujus pulchritudinem sol et luna mirantur, ipsi soli servo -fidem.”--_Office of St. Agnes._ - -[57] We have it recorded of Nepotian, that on his conversion he -distributed all his property to the poor. St. Paulinus of Nola did the -same. - -[58] “Dabis impio militi quod non vis dare sacerdoti, et hoc tollit -fiscus, quod con accipit Christus.”--_St. Aug._ - -[59] “Be pleased to render, O Lord, eternal life to all who for Thy -Name’s sake do unto us good things.” - -[60] _Pampinus_, _pampino_. - -[61] _Ocelli Italiæ._ - -[62] Such as are given by Macrobius in his _Saturnalia_, lib. i., and -by Valerius Maximus. - -[63] Matt. xii. 11. - -[64] “The Villa of Statues,” or “at the Statues.” - -[65] “At” or “_to_ the palms.” - -[66] Jos. vii. - -[67] There was no post in those days, and persons wishing to send -letters had to dispatch an express, or find some opportunity. - -[68] Matt. v. 44. - -[69] A whirlpool between Italy and Sicily. - -[70] The heathen notion of the Blessed Eucharist. - -[71] “Diogenes, the excavator, deposited in peace, eight days before -the first of October.”--From St. Sebastian’s. Boldetti, i. 15, p. 60. - -[72] “From New Street. Pollecla, who sells barley in New Street.” Found -in the cemetery of Callistus. - -[73] Given by F. Marchi in his _Architecture of Subterranean Christian -Rome_, 1844; a work on which we will freely draw. - -[74] The number, unfortunately, is not intelligible, being in cipher. - -[75] In the cemetery of St. Agnes, pieces of lime have been found in -tombs forming exact moulds of different parts of the body, with the -impression of a finer linen inside, and a coarser outside. As to spices -and balsams, Tertullian observes that “the Arabs and Sabæans well know -that the Christians annually consume more for their dead than the -heathen world did for its gods.” - -[76] These terms will be explained later. - -[77] On the 22d of April, 1823, this tomb was discovered unviolated. -On being opened the bones, white, bright, and polished as ivory, were -found, corresponding to the framework of a youth of eighteen. At his -head was the phial of blood. With the head to his feet was the skeleton -of a boy, of twelve or thirteen, black and charred chiefly at the head -and upper parts, down to the middle of the thigh-bones, from which to -the feet the bones gradually whitened. The two bodies, richly clothed, -repose side by side under the altar of the Jesuits’ college at Loreto. - -[78] Better known as Caracalla’s. - -[79] The person who had charge of the bathers’ clothes, from _capsa_, a -chest. - -[80] “Cucumio and Victoria made (the tomb) for themselves while -living. _Capsarius_ of the Antonine” (baths). Found in the cemetery -of Callistus, first published by F. Marchi, who attributes it, -erroneously, to the cemetery of Prætextatus. - -[81] “Marcus Antonius Restitutus made this subterranean for himself and -his family, that trust in the Lord.” Lately found in the cemetery of -SS. Nereus and Achilleus. It is singular that in the inscription of the -martyr Restitutus, given in the last chapter, as in this, a syllable -should be omitted in the name, one easily slurred in pronouncing it. - -[82] Sixty was the full age, but admission was given sometimes at forty. - -[83] Now St. Sebastian’s. The older _Porta Capena_ was nearly a mile -within the present. - -[84] As _Ad Nymphas, Ad Ursum pileatum, Inter duas lauros, Ad Sextum -Philippi_, &c. - -[85] The cemetery at St. Cæcilia’s tomb. - -[86] Formed apparently of a Greek preposition and a Latin verb. - -[87] That is, the red volcanic sand called _puzzolana_, so much prized -for making Roman cement. - -[88] Locus, loculus. - -[89] That of SS. Nereus and Achilleus. - -[90] So F. Marchi calculates them, after diligent examination. We may -mention here that, in the construction of these cemeteries, the sand -extracted from one gallery was removed into another already excavated. -Hence many are now found completely filled up. - -[91] One or two entries from the old _Kalendarium Romanum_ will -illustrate this: - - “iii. Non. Mart. Lucii in Callisti. - vi. Id. Dec. Eutichiani in Callisti. - xiii. Kal. Feb. Fabiani in Callisti, et Sebastiani ad Catacumbas. - viii. Id. Aug. Systi in Callisti.” - -We have extracted these entries of depositions in the cemetery of -Callistus, because, while actually writing this chapter, we have -received news of the discovery of the tombs and lapidary inscriptions -of every one of these Popes, together with those of St. Antherus, in -one chapel of the newly-ascertained cemetery of Callistus, with an -inscription in verse by St. Damasus: - - “Prid. Kal. Jan. Sylvestri in Priscillæ. - iv. Id. (Aug.) Laurentii in Tiburtina. - iii. Kal. Dec. Saturnini in Thrasonis.” - -Published by Ruinart,--Acta, tom. iii. - -[92] Acta Martyr. tom. iii. - -[93] S. Greg. Turon, de Gloria Mart. lib. i. c. 28, ap. Marchi, p. -81. One would apply St. Damasus’s epigram on these martyrs to this -occurrence, Carm. xxviii. - -[94] Published by Bucherius in 1634. - -[95] (Of) ... nelius martyr. - -[96] The crypt, we believe, was discovered before the stairs. - -[97] Of Cornelius Martyr Bishop. - -[98] These form the great bulk of his extant works in verse. - -[99] “(The picture) of St. Cornelius Pope, of St. Cyprian.” On the -other side, on a narrow wall projecting at a right angle, are two -more similar portraits; but only one name can be deciphered, that of -St. Sixtus, or, as he is there and elsewhere called, Sustus. On the -paintings of the principal saints may still be read, scratched in the -mortar, in characters of the seventh century, the names of visitors to -the tomb. Those of two priests are thus-- - - ✠LEO [=PRB] I ANNIS [=PRB]. - -It may be interesting to add the entry in the Roman calendar. - -“xviii. Kal. Oct. Cypriani Africæ: Romæ celebratur in Callisti.” “Sept. -14. (The deposition) of Cyprian in Africa: at Rome it is kept in (the -cemetery) of Callistus.” - -[100] Pope Pius IX.--_Pub._ - -[101] Chambers. - -[102] - - “Sic venerarier ossa libet, - Ossibus altar et impositum; - _Illa Dei sita sub pedibus_, - Prospicit hæc, populosque suos - Carmine propitiata fovet.” - _Prudentius, περι στε_ iii. 43. - - - “With her relics gathered here, - The altar o’er them placed revere, - _She beneath God’s feet reposes_, - Nor to us her soft eye closes, - Nor her gracious ear.” - -The idea that the martyr lies “beneath the feet of God” is an allusion -to the Real Presence in the Blessed Eucharist. - -[103] The arched tombs were so called. A homely illustration would -be an arched fireplace, walled up to the height of three feet. The -paintings would be inside, above the wall. - -[104] The word is usually given in Greek, and Christ is familiarly -called the _ιχθυς, ichthys_. - -[105] This is the interpretation of St. Optatus (_adv. Parm._ lib. -iii.) and St. Augustine (_de C. D._ lib. xviii. c. 23). - -[106] This is Tertullian’s explanation (_de Baptismo_, lib. ii. c. 2). - -[107] In the same cemetery is another interesting painting. On a table -lie a loaf and a fish; a priest is stretching his hands over them; and -opposite is a female figure in adoration. The priest is the same as, in -a picture close by, is represented administering baptism. In another -chamber just cleared out, are very ancient decorations, such as masks, -&c., and fishes bearing baskets of bread and flasks of wine, on their -backs as they swim. - -[108] The type of the figure is that of St. Peter, as he is represented -to us in the cemeteries. On a glass, bearing a picture of this scene, -the person striking the rock has written over his head PETRVS. - -[109] There are several repetitions of this painting. One has been -lately found, if we remember right, in the cemetery of Nereus and -Achilleus. It is long anterior to the Council of Chalcedon, whence this -mode of representing our Lord is usually dated. It is given in our -title-page. - -[110] The Lateran house or palace. - -[111] Inscription on the front, and medals, of the Lateran Basilica. - -[112] These are the very words of Decius, on the election of St. -Cornelius to the See of St. Peter: “Cum multo patientius audiret levari -adversum se æmulum principem, quam constitui Romæ Dei sacerdotem.” -_S. Cypr. Ep. lii. ad Antonianum_, p. 69, ed. Maur. Could there be a -stronger proof, that under the heathen empire, the papal power was -sensible and external, even to the extent of exciting imperial jealousy? - -[113] “As a sated guest.” - -[114] A fashionable watering-place near Naples. - -[115] A large earthenware vessel, in which wine was kept in the cellar. - -[116] These instruments of cruelty are mentioned in the _Acts of the -Martyrs_, and in ecclesiastical historians. - -[117] “Sopra l’antichissimo altare di legno, rinchiuso nell’ altare -papale,” &c. “On the most ancient wooden altar, enclosed in the papal -altar of the most holy Lateran basilica.” By Monsig. D. Bartolini. -Rome, 1852. - -[118] Acts x. - -[119] 2 Tim. iv. 21. - -[120] A second or younger Pudens is spoken of. - -[121] May the 19th. - -[122] Verses 17, 18. - -[123] It is not necessary to go into the classical uses of the word -_titulus_. - -[124] Only the Pope can say Mass on it, or a cardinal, by authority -of a special bull. This high altar has been lately magnificently -decorated. A plank of the wooden altar has always been preserved in St. -Peter’s altar, at St. Pudentiana’s. It has been lately compared with -the wood of the Lateran altar, and found to be identical. - -[125] Its site is now occupied by the Caetani chapel. - -[126] Prefixed to the Maurist edition of his works, or in Ruinart, i. - -[127] Ο προεστως, _prœpositus_, see Heb. xiii. 17. Ο των Ρωμαιων -προεστως Βικτωρ, “Victor bishop of the Romans.” Euseb. H. E. I. v. 24. -The Greek word used is the same as in St. Justin. - -[128] The learned Bianchini plausibly conjectures that the _station_ -on Easter Sunday is not at the Lateran (the cathedral), nor at St. -Peter’s, where the Pope officiates, at one of which it would naturally -be expected to be, but at the Liberian basilica, because it used to be -held for the administration of baptism at St. Pudentiana’s, which is -only a stone’s throw from it. - -[129] “Cinnamius Opas Lector, of the _title_ of Fasciola” (now SS. -Nereus and Achilleus), “the friend of the poor, who lived forty-six -years, seven months, and eight days. Interred in peace the tenth day -before the calends of March.” From St. Paul’s. - -[130] “Macedonius, an exorcist of the Catholic Church.” From the -cemetery of SS. Thraso and Saturninus, on the Salarian way. - -[131] In the great and old basilicas of Rome the celebrant faces the -faithful. - -[132] “The day before the first of June ceased to live Prætiosa, a girl -(_puella_), a virgin of only twelve years of age, the handmaid of God -and of Christ. In the consulship of Flavius Vincentius, and Fravitus, a -consular man.” Found in the cemetery of Callistus. - -[133] _Vetus et Nova Ecclesiæ Disciplina; circa Beneficia._ Par. I. -lib. iii. (Luc. 1727.) - -[134] Thomass. p. 792. - -[135] “Jesus the virgin’s crown,” the hymn for virgins. - -[136] “Posuit signum in faciem meam, ut nullum præter eum amatorem -admittam.” _Office of St. Agnes._ - -[137] “Mel et lac ex ejus ore suscepi, et sanguis ejus ornavit genas -meas.” _Ibid._ - -[138] “Discede a me pabulum mortis, quia jam ab alio amatore præventa -sum.” “Ipsi soli servo fidem, ipsi me tota devotione committo.” “Quem -cum amavero casta sum, cum tetigero munda sum, cum accepero virgo sum.” -_Ibid._ - -[139] “Est autem sabaia ex hordeo vel frumento in liquorem conversis -paupertinus in Illyrico potus.” “Sabaia is the drink of the poor in -Illyria, made of barley or wheat, transformed into a liquid.” _Ammian. -Marcellinus_, lib. xxvi. 8, p. 422, ed. Lips. - -[140] A.D. 258. - -[141] Prudentius, in his hymn on St. Laurence. - -[142] “Our lords Dioclesian and Maximian, the unconquered, elder -Augusti, fathers of the Emperors and Cæsars.” - -[143] The name of the Emperor. - -[144] See Lucian’s address to the judge, upon Ptolemæus’s condemnation, -in the beginning of St. Justin’s Second _Apology_, or Ruinart, vol. i. -p. 120. - -[145] There was one cemetery called _ad sextum Philippi_, which is -supposed to have been situated six miles from Rome; but many were three -miles from the heart of the city. - -[146] _Ad Uxorem_, lib. ii. c. 5. - -[147] When the Vatican cemetery was explored, in 1571, there were found -in tombs two small square golden boxes, with a ring at the top of the -lid. These very ancient sacred vessels are considered by Bottari to -have been used for carrying the Blessed Eucharist round the neck (_Roma -Subterranea_, tom. i. fig. 11); and Pellicia confirms this by many -arguments (_Christianæ Eccl. Politia_, tom. iii. p. 20). - -[148] Door-keepers,--an office constituting a lesser order in the -Church. - -[149] “The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear? The -Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?” - -[150] “While the wicked draw nigh me, to eat my flesh, my enemies that -trouble me have themselves been weakened and have fallen.” - -[151] “If armies in camp shall stand together against me, my heart -shall not fear.”--_Ps._ xxvi. - -[152] The guardian genius of the place. - -[153] Blind. - -[154] The rack was used for a double purpose; as a direct torment, and -to keep the body distended for the application of other tortures. This -of fire was one of the most common. - -[155] There are many instances in the lives of martyrs of their deaths -being the fruit of prayer, as in St. Praxedes, St. Cæcilia, St. Agatha, -&c. - -[156] “In peace, in the selfsame, I will sleep and I will rest.” _Ps._ -iv. 9. - -[157] For Thou, O Lord, singularly hast placed me in hope. _Ps._ v. 10. - -[158] The penitentiary system of the early Church will be better -described in any volume that embodies the antiquity of the second -period of ecclesiastical history, that of _The Church of the -Basilicas_. It is well known, especially from the writings of St. -Cyprian, that those who proved weak in persecution, and were subjected -to public penance, obtained a shortening of its term,--that is, an -_indulgence_,--through the intercession of confessors, or of persons -imprisoned for the faith. - -[159] This is related in the Acts just referred to. - -[160] See Piazza, on the church of _Santa Maria degli Angeli_, in his -work on the Stations of Rome. - -[161] The last cardinal of the extinct title of St. Cyriacus’s, formed -out of a part of these Baths, was Cardinal Bembo. - -[162] Michelangelo. The noble and beautiful church of Sta. Maria degli -Angeli was made by him out of the central hall and circular vestibule, -described in the text. The floor was afterwards raised, and thus the -pillars were shortened, and the height of the building diminished by -several feet. - -[163] See the account of St. Pothinus, _Ruinart_, i. p. 145. - -[164] _Ruinart_, p. 145. - -[165] “Si dignus fueris, cognosces.” _Ib._ - -[166] Acts of St. Justin. _Ruinart_, p. 129. - -[167] This is mentioned as the extreme possible extension. - -[168] _Ib._ p. 56, Acts of St. Felicitas and her sons. - -[169] p. 220, Acts of St. Perpetua, &c. - -[170] pp. 219 and 146, Acts of Lyonese Martyrs. - -[171] Acts of Lionese Martyrs, p. 219. - -[172] _Asinus portans mysteria_, a Latin proverb. - -[173] - - “Christ’s secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne, - The mob profanely bade him to display; - He rather gave his own limbs to be torn, - Than Christ’s celestial to mad dogs betray.” - _Carmen_, xviii. - -See also Baronius’s notes to the _Martyrology_. The words “(Christi) -cœlestia _membra_,” applied to the Blessed Eucharist, supply one of -those casual, but most striking, arguments that result from identity -of habitual thought in antiquity, more than from the use of studied or -conventional phrases. - -[174] Such a celebration of the Divine Mysteries, by a priest of this -name at Antioch, is recorded in his Acts. (See _Ruinart_, tom. iii. p. -182, note.) - -[175] “I live now, not I, but Christ liveth in me.” _Gal._ ii. 20. - -[176] See the Acts of the Martyrs of Lyons, _Ruinart_, vol. i. p. -152 (where will be found the account of the martyrdom of a youth of -fifteen), and those of St. Perpetua and Felicitas, p. 221. - -[177] See the Acts of St. Felicitas and her seven sons, _Ruinart_, vol. -i. p. 55. - -[178] _Hist. Eccles._ lib. viii. c. 7. - -[179] Euseb. _ibid._ See also St. Ignatius’s letter to the Romans, in -his Acts, _ap._ _Ruinart_, vol. i. p. 40. - -[180] The amphitheatre could contain 150,000. - -[181] This was an ordinary device. The underground constructions for -its practice have been found in the Coliseum. - -[182] The martyr Saturus, torn by a leopard, and about to die, -addressed the soldier Pudens, not yet a Christian, in words of -exhortation; then asked him for the ring on his finger, dipped it in -his own blood, and gave it back, “leaving him the inheritance of the -pledge, and the memorial of his blood.” _Ap._ _Ruinart_, vol. i. p. 223. - -[183] He is commemorated on the 11th of August, with his father -Chromatius, as has been already observed. - -[184] About 800_l._ - -[185] We give equivalents in English money, as more intelligible. - -[186] Called thence St. Adauctus. - -[187] “Membraque picta cruore novo.” _Prud._ περι στεφ iii. 29. - -[188] The reader, when visiting the Crystal Palace, will find in the -Roman Court an excellent model of the Roman Forum. On the raised mound -of the Palatine hill, between the arches of Titus and Constantine, he -will see a chapel of fair dimensions standing alone. It is the one to -which we allude. It has been lately repaired by the Barberini family. - -[189] The fountain before described. - -[190] See the Acts of St. Sebastian. - -[191] The _coup de grace_, the blow by which culprits were “put out -of their pain.” Breaking the legs of the crucified was considered an -_ictus gratiosus_. - -[192] The great sewer of Rome. - -[193] “If thou hadst known, and in this thy day,” etc. _St. Luke_, xix. -42. - -[194] “Ecce quod concupivi jam video, quod speravi jam teneo; ipsi sum -juncta in cœlis quem in terris posita tota devotione dilexi.” _Office -of St. Agnes._ - -[195] Jan. 21. - -[196] In or near the forum stood several arches dedicated to Janus, and -called simply by his name, near which usurers or money-lenders kept -their posts. - -[197] 1600_l._ - -[198] “Mecum enim habeo custodem corporis mei, Angelum Domini.” _The -Breviary._ - -[199] “Incessu patuit Dea.” - -[200] “Duplex corona est præstita martyri.” _Prudentius._ - -[201] “Ingressa Agnes turpitudinis locum, Angelum Domini præparatum -invenit.” _The Breviary._ - -[202] The Church of St. Agnes in the Piazza Navona, one of the most -beautiful in Rome. - - “Cui posse soli Cunctipotens dedit - Castum vel ipsum reddere fornicem - - * * * * * - - Nil non pudicum est, quod pia visere - Dignaris, almo vel pede tangere.” - _Prudentius._ - - -[203] “Non intorto crine caput comptum.” Her head not dressed -with braided hair. _St. Ambrose_, lib. i. _de Virgin._ c. 2. See -Prudentius’s description of St. Eulalia, περι στεφ hymn. iii. 31. - -[204] “Solvitur acris hyems, grata vice veris et Favoni.” _Horace._ - -[205] Pudicitia. - -[206] St. Ambrose, _ubi supra_. - -[207] - - “Æterne Rector, divide januas, - Cœli, obserratas terrigenis prius, - Ac te sequentem, Christe, animam voca, - Cum virginalem, tum Patris hostiam.” - _Prudentius_, περι στεφ 14. - - -[208] This was the usual practice, to behead out of the gate, at the -second, third, or fourth mile-stone; but it is clear from Prudentius -and other writers that St. Agnes suffered at the place of trial, of -which we have other instances. - -[209] Prudentius. - -[210] St. Ambrose. - -[211] Prudentius mentions that a sudden fall of snow shrouded thus the -body of St. Eulalia lying in the Forum. _Ubi sup._ - -[212] Red paint. - -[213] Revenge. - -[214] “[The tomb] of Dionysius, physician [and] priest,” lately found -at the entrance to the crypt of St. Cornelius, in the cemetery of -Callistus. - -[215] “Qui verbo suo instaurat universa.” _The Breviary._ - -[216] Eusebius, in his account of Serapion, teaches us that this was -the manner of administering Holy Communion to the sick, without the -cup, or under only one kind. - -[217] Persons freed from slavery retained the title of _freedman_ or -_freedwoman_ (_libertus_, _liberta_) of the person to whom they had -belonged, as “of Augustus.” If they had belonged originally to a free -class, they were liberated as _ingenuus_ or _ingenua_ (well-born) and -restored by emancipation to that class. - -[218] Phil. ii. 7. - -[219] Isaias vii. 14. - -[220] “Cum arcam suam, in qua Domini sanctum fuit, manibus indignis -tentasset aperire, igne inde surgente deterrita est, ne auderet -attingere.” “When she attempted to open, with unworthy hands, her -chest, in which was the holy (body) of our Lord, she was deterred from -daring to touch it, by fire rising up from it.” _De Lapsis._ - -[221] See Martenne, _De antiquis Ecclesiæ Ritibus_. - -[222] So in the eastern liturgies. Fortunatus calls the Blessed -Eucharist, “Corporis Agni margaritum ingens.” “The huge pearl of the -Body of the Lamb.” Lib. iii. car. 25. - -[223] De morte Satyri. - -[224] St. Aug. Tract. cxviii. in Joan. - -[225] Tertullian (who lived earlier than two hundred years after -Christ, and is the oldest Latin ecclesiastical writer) _de Corona -Milit._ c. 3. - -[226] Audientes. - -[227] Genuflectentes. - -[228] Electi and competentes. - -[229] These will be found, particularly in the baptism of adults, -joined with repetitions of the _Our Father_. - -[230] - - “Agnæ sepulchrum est Romulea in domo, - Fortis puellæ, martyris inclitæ. - Conspectu in ipso condita turrium - Servat salutem virgo Quiritum: - Necnon et ipsos protegit advenas, - Puro ac fideli pectore supplices.” - _Prudentius._ - - - “The tomb of Agnes graces Rome, - A maiden brave, a martyr great. - Resting in sight of bastioned gate, - From harm the virgin shields her home; - Nor to the stranger help denies, - If sought with pure and faithful sighs.” - - -[231] St. Ambrose said Mass in the house of a lady beyond the Tiber. -(Paulinus, in his Life, tom. ii. _Oper._ ed. Bened.) St. Augustine -mentions a priest’s saying Mass in a house supposed to be infested with -evil spirits. _De Civ. D._ lib. xxii. c. 6. - -[232] Isaias xxxv. 1, 2. - -[233] The ceremony employed after desecration. - -[234] Euseb. H. E. lib. x. c. 5. - -[235] In the East, some governors, wearied with wholesale murders, -adopted this more merciful way of treating Christians towards the end -of the persecution. See _Eusebius_. - -[236] This scene is described from reality. - -[237] Eusebius, _ubi sup._ - -[238] The law of retaliation, such as was prescribed also in the Mosaic -law, “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” &c. - -[239] Clinical baptism, or that of persons confined to their beds -was administered by pouring or sprinkling the water on the head. See -Bingham, book xi. c. 11. - -[240] A. D. 303. - -[241] The religious who lived in community, or _common life_, were so -called. - -[242] A. D. 303. - -[243] Confession of sins in private was made before baptism. 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