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Copyright, 1897, by
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
PERPETUA
A TALE OF NÎMES IN A.D. 213
The Kalends (first) of March.
A brilliant day in the town of Nemausus—the
modern Nîmes—in the Province of Gallia Narbonensis,
that arrogated to itself the title of being the
province, a title that has continued in use to the
present day, as distinguishing the olive-growing, rose-producing,
ruin-strewn portion of Southern France,
whose fringe is kissed by the blue Mediterranean.
Not a cloud in the nemophyla-blue sky. The sun streamed down, with a heat that was unabsorbed, and with rays unshorn by any intervenient vapor, as in our northern clime. Yet a cool air from the distant snowy Alps touched, as with the kiss of a vestal, every heated brow, and refreshed it.
The Alps, though invisible from Nemausus, make
The anemones were in bloom, and the roses were budding. Tulips spangled the vineyards, and under the olives and in the most arid soil, there appeared the grape hyacinth and the star of Bethlehem.
At the back of the white city stands a rock, the extreme limit of a spur of the Cebennæ, forming an amphitheatre, the stones scrambled over by blue and white periwinkle, and the crags heavy with syringa and flowering thorns.
In the midst of this circus of rock welled up a river of transparent bottle-green water, that filled a reservoir, in which circled white swans.
On account of the incessant agitation of the water, that rose in bells, and broke in rhythmic waves against the containing breastwork, neither were the swans mirrored in the surface, nor did the white temple of Nemausus reflect its peristyle of channeled pillars in the green flood.
This temple occupied one side of the basin; on the other, a little removed, were the baths, named after Augustus, to which some of the water was conducted, after it had passed beyond the precinct within which it was regarded as sacred.
It would be hard to find a more beautiful scene, or see such a gay gathering as that assembled near the Holy Fountain on this first day of March.
Hardly less white than the swans that dreamily swam in spirals, was the balustrade of limestone that surrounded the sheet of heaving water. At intervals on this breasting stood pedestals, each supporting a statue in Carrara marble. Here was Diana in buskins, holding a bow in her hand, in the attitude of running, her right hand turned to draw an arrow from the quiver at her back. There was the Gallic god Camulus, in harness, holding up a six-rayed wheel, all gilt, to signify the sun. There was a nymph pouring water from her urn; again appeared Diana contemplating her favorite flower, the white poppy.
But in the place of honor, in the midst of the public walk before the fountain, surrounded by acacias and pink-blossomed Judas trees, stood the god Nemausus, who was at once the presiding deity over the fountain, and the reputed founder of the city. He was represented as a youth, of graceful form, almost feminine, and though he bore some military insignia, yet seemed too girl-like and timid to appear in war.
The fountain had, in very truth, created the city.
This marvelous upheaval of a limpid river out of the
heart of the earth had early attracted settlers to it,
who had built their rude cabins beside the stream and
who paid to the fountain divine honors. Around
it they set up a circle of rude stones, and called the
place
On this first day of March the inhabitants of Nemausus were congregated near the fountain, all in holiday costume.
Among them ran and laughed numerous young girls, all with wreaths of white hyacinths or of narcissus on their heads, and their clear musical voices rang as bells in the fresh air.
Yet, jocund as the scene was, to such as looked
Many a parent held the child with convulsive clasp, and the eyes of fathers and mothers alike followed their darlings with a greed, as though desirous of not losing one glimpse, not missing one word, of the little creature on whom so many kisses were bestowed, and in whom so much love was centered.
For this day was specially dedicated to the founder and patron of the town, who supplied it with water from his unfailing urn, and once in every seven years on this day a human victim was offered in sacrifice to the god Nemausus, to ensure the continuance of his favor, by a constant efflux of water, pure, cool and salubrious.
The victim was chosen from among the daughters
of the old Gaulish families of the town, and the victim
was selected from among girls between the ages
of seven and seventeen. Seven times seven were
bound to appear on this day before the sacred spring,
clothed in white and crowned with spring flowers.
None knew which would be chosen and which rejected.
The selection was not made by either the
Suddenly from the temple sounded a blast of horns, and immediately the peristyle (colonnade) filled with priests and priestesses in white, the former with wreaths of silvered olive leaves around their heads, the latter crowned with oak leaves of gold foil.
The trumpeters descended the steps. The crowd fell back, and a procession advanced. First came players on the double flute, or syrinx, with red bands round their hair. Then followed dancing girls performing graceful movements about the silver image of the god that was borne on the shoulders of four maidens covered with spangled veils of the finest oriental texture. On both sides paced priests with brazen trumpets.
Before and behind the image were boys bearing censers that diffused aromatic smoke, which rose and spread in all directions, wafted by the soft air that spun above the cold waters of the fountain.
Behind the image and the dancing girls marched
Hail, holy fountain, limpid and eternal,
Father Nemausus.
Then the priests and priestesses drew up in lines
between the people and the fountain, and the ædile
When all forty-nine were gathered together, then they were formed into a ring, holding hands, and round this ring passed the bearers of the silver image.
Now again rose the hymn:
Hail, holy fountain, limpid and eternal,
Father Nemausus.
And as the bearers carried the image round the circle, suddenly a golden apple held by the god, fell and touched a graceful girl who stood in the ring.
Come forth, Lucilla,
said the chief priestess.
It is the will of the god that thou speak the words.
Begin.
Then the damsel loosed her hands from those she
held, stepped into the midst of the circle and raised
the golden pippin. At once the entire ring of children
began to revolve, like a dance of white
butter
One and two
Shut the door.
As she spoke she indicated a child at each numeral,
Five and six
Thou must wait.
Now there passed a thrill through the crowd, and the children whirled quicker.
Nine and ten
Thou, Alcmene, touched at last.
At the word last
she threw the apple and struck
a girl, and at once left the ring, cast her coronet of
narcissus into the fountain and ran into the crowd.
With a gasp of relief she was caught in the arms of
her mother, who held her to her heart, and sobbed
Now it was the turn of Alcmene.
She held the ball, paused a moment, looking about her, and then, as the troop of children revolved, she rattled the rhyme, and threw the pippin at a damsel named Tertiola. Whereupon she in turn cast her garland, that was of white violets, into the fountain, and withdrew.
Again the wreath of children circled and Tertiola
repeated the jingle till she came to Touched at
last,
when a girl named Ælia was selected, and
came into the middle. This was a child of seven,
who was shy and clung to her mother. The mother
fondled her, and said, My Ælia! Rejoice that thou
art not the fated victim. The god has surrendered
thee to me. Be speedy with the verse, and I will
give thee
So encouraged, the frightened child rattled out some lines, then halted; her memory had failed, and she had to be reminded of the rest. At last she also was free, ran to her mother’s bosom and was comforted with cakes.
A young man with folded arms stood lounging
By Hercules!
said the first. Or let me rather
swear by Venus and her wayward son, the Bow-bearer,
that is a handsome girl yonder, she who is the
tallest, and methinks the eldest of all. What is her
name, my Callipodius?
She that looks so scared, O supremity of excellent
youths, Æmilius Lentulus Varo! I believe that
she is the daughter and only child of the widow
Quincta, who lost her husband two years ago, and
has refused marriage since. They whisper strange
things concerning her.
What things, thou tittle-tattle bearer?
Nay, I bear but what is desired of me. Didst
thou not inquire of me who the maiden was? I
have a mind to make no answer. But who can deny
anything to thee?
By the genius of Augustus,
exclaimed the
patron, thou makest me turn away my head at thy
unctuous flattery. The peasants do all their cooking
in oil, and when their meals be set on the
table the appetite is taken away, there is too much
I speak but what I feel. But see how the circle
is shrunk. As to the scandal thou wouldst hear, it
is this. The report goes that the widow and her
daughter are infected with a foreign superstition,
and worship an ass’s head.
An ass’s head hast thou to hold and repeat such
lies. Look at the virgin. Didst ever see one more
modest, one who more bears the stamp of sound
reason and of virtue on her brow. The next thou
wilt say is——
That these Christians devour young children.
This is slander, not scandal. By Jupiter Camulus!
the circle is reduced to four, and she, that fair
maid, is still in it. There is Quinctilla, the daughter
of Largus; look at him, how he eyes her with agony
in his face! There is Vestilia Patercola. I would
to the gods that the fair—what is her name?
Perpetua, daughter of Aulus Har——
Ah!
interrupted the patron, uneasily. Quinctilla
is out.
Her father, Aulus Harpinius——
See, see!
again burst in the youth Æmilius,
there are but two left; that little brown girl, and
she whom thou namest——
Perpetua.
Now arrived the supreme moment—that of the final selection. The choosing girl, in whose hand was the apple, stood before those who alone remained. She began:
One, two
Drops of dew.
Although there was so vast a concourse present, not a sound could be heard, save the voice of the girl repeating the jingle, and the rush of the holy water over the weir. Every breath was held.
Nine and ten,
Thou, Portumna, touched at last.
At once the brown girl skipped to the basin, cast
in her garland, and the high priestess, raising her
hand, stepped forward, pointed to Perpetua, and
cried, Est.
When the lot had fallen, then a cry rang from
among the spectators, and a woman, wearing the
white cloak of widowhood, would have fallen, had
she not been caught and sustained by a man in a
brown tunic and
Be not overcome, lady,
said this man in a low
tone. What thou losest is lent to the Lord.
Baudillas,
sobbed the woman, she is my only
child, and is to be sacrificed to devils.
The devil hath no part in her. She is the
Lord’s, and the Lord will preserve His own.
Will He give her back to me? Will He deliver
her from the hands of His enemies?
The Lord is mighty even to do this. But I
say not that it will be done as thou desirest. Put
thy trust in Him. Did Abraham withhold his son,
his only son, when God demanded him?
But this is not God, it is Nemausus.
Nemausus is naught but a creature, a fountain,
fed by God’s rains. It is the Lord’s doing that the
The poor mother clasped her arms, and buried her head in them.
Then the girl thrust aside such as interposed and essayed to reach her mother. The priestesses laid hands on her, to stay her, but she said:
Suffer me to kiss my mother, and to comfort her.
Do not doubt that I will preserve a smiling countenance.
I cannot permit it,
said the high priestess.
There will be resistance and tears.
And therefore,
said the girl, you put drops
of oil or water into the ears of oxen brought to
the altars, that they may nod their heads, and so
seem to express consent. Let me console my
mother, so shall I be able to go gladly to death.
Otherwise I may weep, and thereby mar thy sacrifice.
Then, with firmness, she thrust through the belt of priestesses, and clasped the almost fainting and despairing mother to her heart.
Be of good courage,
she said. Be like unto
Felicitas, who sent her sons, one by one, to receive
the crown, and who—blessed mother that she
was—
But thou art my only child.
And she offered them all to God.
I am a widow, and alone.
And such was she.
Then said the brown-habited man whom the lady had called Baudillas:
Quincta, remember that she is taken from an
evil world, in which are snares, and that God may
have chosen to deliver her by this means from some
great peril to her soul, against which thou wouldst
have been powerless to protect her.
I cannot bear it,
gasped the heart-broken
woman. I have lived only for her. She is my
all.
Then Perpetua gently unclasped the arms of her mother, who was lapsing into unconsciousness, kissed her, and said:
The God of all strength and comfort be to thee
a strong tower of defence.
And hastily returned
to the basin.
The young man who before had noticed Perpetua, turned with quivering lip to his companion, and said:
I would forswear Nemausus—that he should
exact such a price. Look at her face, Callipodius.
Is it the sun that lightens it? By Hercules, I could
swear that it streamed with effulgence from within—as
though she were one of the gods.
The more beautiful and innocent she be, the
more grateful is she to the august Archegos!
Pshaw!
scoffed the young man; his hand
clutched the marble balustrade convulsively, and the
blood suffused his brow and cheeks and throat. I
believe naught concerning these deities. My father
was a shrewd man, and he ever said that the ignorant
people created their own gods out of heroes, or the
things of Nature, which they understood not, being
beasts.
But tell me, Æmilius—and thou art a profundity
of wisdom, unsounded as is this spring—what is
this Nemausus?
The fountain.
And how comes the fountain to ever heave with
water, and never to fail. Verily it lives. See—it
is as a thing that hath life and movement. If not a
deity, then what is it?
Nay—I cannot say. But it is subject to destiny.
In what way?
Ruled to flow.
But who imposed the rule?
Silence! I can think of naught save the innocent
virgin thus sacrificed to besotted ignorance.
Thou canst not prevent it. Therefore look on,
as at a show.
I cannot prevent it. I marvel at the magistrates—that
they endure it. They would not do so were
it to touch at all those of the upper town. Besides,
did not the god Claudius——
They are binding her.
She refuses to be bound.
Shrieks now rang from the frantic mother, and
she made desperate efforts to reach her daughter.
She was deaf to the consolations of Baudillas, and
to the remonstrances and entreaties of the people
around her, who pitied and yet could not help her.
Then said the ædile to his police, Remove the
woman!
The chief priest made a sign, and at once the trumpeters began to bray through their brazen tubes, making such a noise as to drown the cries of the mother.
I would to the gods I could save her,
said
The priest had bound her hands; but Perpetua
smiled, and shook off the bonds at her feet. Let
be,
she said, I shall not resist.
On her head she still wore a crown of white narcissus. Not more fresh and pure were these flowers than her delicate face, which the blood had left. Ever and anon she turned her eyes in the direction of her mother, but she could no longer see her, as the attendants formed a ring so compact that none could break through.
Elect of the god, bride of Nemausus!
said the
chief priestess, ascend the balustrade of the holy
perennial fountain.
Without shrinking, the girl obeyed.
She fixed her eyes steadily on the sky, and then made the sacred sign on her brow.
What doest thou?
asked the priestess. Some
witchcraft I trow.
No witchcraft, indeed,
answered the girl. I
do but invoke the Father of Lights with whom is no
variableness, neither shadow of turning.
Ah, Apollo!—he is not so great a god as our
Nemausus.
Then at a sign, the trumpeters blew a furious bellow and as suddenly ceased. Whereupon to the strains of flutes and the tinkling of triangles, the choir broke forth into the last verse of the hymn:
Thou, the perennial, loving tender virgins,
Father Nemausus.
As they chanted, and a cloud of incense mounted around her, Perpetua looked down into the water. It was green as glacier ice, and so full of bubbles in places as to be there semi-opaque. The depth seemed infinite. No bottom was visible. No fish darted through it. An immense volume boiled up unceasingly from unknown, unfathomed depths. The wavelets lapped the marble breasting as though licking it with greed expecting their victim.
The water, after brimming the basin, flowed away
over a sluice under a bridge as a considerable stream.
Perpetua heard the song of the ministers of the god, but gave no heed to it, for her lips moved in prayer, and her soul was already unfurling its pure wings to soar into that Presence before which, as she surely expected, she was about to appear.
When the chorus had reached the line:
May thy selection be the best and fittest,
Father Nemausus!
then she was thrust by three priestesses from the balustrade and precipitated into the basin. She uttered no cry, but from all present a gasp of breath was audible.
For a moment she disappeared in the vitreous waters, and her white garland alone remained floating on the surface.
Then her dress glimmered, next her arm, as the surging spring threw her up.
Suddenly from the entire concourse rose a cry of astonishment and dismay.
The young man, Æmilius Lentulus Varo, had leaped into the holy basin.
Why had he so leaped? Why?
The chain of priests and priestesses could not restrain the mob, that thrust forward to the great basin, to see the result.
Exclamations of every description rose from the throng.
He fell in!
Nay, he cast himself in. The god will withdraw
the holy waters. It was impious. The fountain
is polluted.
Was it not defiled when a dead tom-cat was
found in it? Yet the fountain ceased not to flow.
The maiden floats!
Why should the god pick out the handsomest
girl? His blood is ice-cold. She is not a morsel for
him,
scoffed a red-faced senator.
He rises! He is swimming.
He has grappled the damsel.
He is striking out! Bene! Bene!
Encourage not the sacrilegious one! Thou
makest thyself partaker in his impiety!
What will the magistrates do?
Do! Coil up like wood-lice, and uncurl only
when all is forgotten.
He is a Christian.
His father was a philosopher. He swears by the
gods.
He is an atheist.
See! See! He is sustaining her head.
She is not dead; she gasps.
Body of Bacchus! how the water boils. The
god is wroth.
Bah! It boils no more now than it did yesterday.
In the ice-green water could be seen the young man with nervous arms striking out. He held up the girl with one arm. The swell of the rising volumes of water greatly facilitated his efforts. Indeed the upsurging flood had such force, that to die by drowning in it was a death by inches, for as often as a body went beneath the surface, it was again propelled upwards.
In a minute he was at the breastwork, had one
hand on it, then called: Help, some one, to lift
her out!
Thereupon the man clothed in brown wool put
The men of the upper town—Greek colonists, or their descendants—looked superciliously and incredulously on the cult of the Gallic deity of the fountain. It was tolerated, but laughed at, as something that belonged to a class of citizens that was below them in standing.
In another moment Æmilius Lentulus had thrown himself upon the balustrade, and stood facing the crowd, dripping from every limb, but with a laughing countenance.
Seeing that the mob was swayed by differing currents
of feeling and opinion, knowing the people
with whom he had to do, he stooped, whispered
something into the ear of Callipodius; then, folding
his arms, he looked smilingly around at the tossing
crowd, and no sooner did he see his opportunity
Men and brethren of the good city of Nemausus!
I marvel at ye, that ye dare to set at naught
the laws of imperial and eternal Rome. Are ye not
aware that the god Claudius issued an edict with
special application to Gaul, that forever forbade
human sacrifices? Has that edict been withdrawn?
I have myself seen and read it graven in brass on
the steps of the Capitoline Hill at Rome. So long
as that law stands unrepealed ye are transgressors.
The edict has fallen into desuetude, and desuetude
abrogates a law!
called one man.
Is it so? How many have suffered under Nero,
under Caius, because they transgressed laws long
forgotten? Let some one inform against the priesthood
of Nemausus and carry the case to Rome.
A stillness fell on the assembly. The priests looked at one another.
But see!
continued Æmilius, I call you to
witness this day. The god himself rejects such
illegal offerings. Did you not perceive how he
spurned the virgin from him when ye did impiously
cast her into his holy urn? Does he not sustain
Then one in the crowd shouted: There is a
virgin cast yearly from the bridge over the Rhodanus
at Avenio.
Aye! and much doth that advantage the bridge
and the city. Did not the floods last November
carry away an arch and inundate an entire quarter
of the town? Was the divine river forgetful that he
had received his obligation, or was he ungrateful
He demanded another life.
Nay! He was indignant that the fools of
Avenio should continue to treat him as though he
were a wild beast that had to be glutted, and not
as a god. All you parents that fear for your children!
Some of you have already lost your daughters,
and have trembled for them; combine, and
with one voice proclaim that you will no more suffer
this. Look to the urn of the divine Nemausus. See
how evenly the ripples run. Dip your fingers in the
water and feel how passionless it is. Has he blown
forth a blast of seething water and steam like the
hot springs of Aquæ Sextiæ? Has his fountain
clouded with anger? Was the god powerless to
avenge the act when I plunged in? If he had
desired the death of the maiden would he have suffered
me, a mortal, to pluck her from his gelid lips?
Make room on Olympus, O ye gods, and prepare a
throne for Common Sense, and let her have domain
over the minds of men.
There is no such god,
called one in the
crowd.
Ye know her not, so besotted are ye.
He blasphemes, he mocks the holy and immortal
ones.
It is ye who mock them when ye make of them
as great clowns as yourselves. The true eternal gods
laugh to hear me speak the truth. Look at the sun.
Look at the water, with its many twinkling smiles.
The gods approve.
Whilst the young man thus harangued and amused the populace, Baudillas and Quincta, assisted by two female slaves of the latter, removed the drenched, dripping, and half-drowned girl. They bore her with the utmost dispatch out of the crowd down a sidewalk of the city gardens to a bench, on which they laid her, till she had sufficiently recovered to open her eyes and recognize those who surrounded her.
Then said the widow to one of the servants:
Run, Petronella, and bid the steward send porters
with a litter. We must convey Perpetua as speedily
as possible from hence, lest there be a riot, and the
ministers of the devil stir up the people to insist
upon again casting her into the water.
By your leave, lady,
said Baudillas, I would
advise that, at first, she should not be conveyed to
your house, but to mine. It is probable, should
You are right,
said Quincta. It shall be so.
As in the Acts of the Blessed Apostles it is related
that the craftsmen who lived by making silver
shrines for Diana stirred up the people of Ephesus,
so may it be now. There are many who get their
living by the old religion, many whose position and
influence depend on its maintenance, and such will
not lightly allow a slight to be cast on their superstitions
like as has been offered this day. But by
evenfall we shall know the humor of the people.
Young lady, lean on my arm and let me conduct
thee to my lodging. Thou canst there abide till it
is safe for thee to depart.
Then the brown-habited man took the maiden’s arm.
Baudillas was a deacon of the Church in Nemausus—a
man somewhat advanced in life. His humility,
and, perhaps, also his lack of scholarship, prevented
his aspiring to a higher office; moreover, he
The deacon was the treasurer of the Church, and he was a man selected for his business habits and practical turn of mind. By his office he was more concerned with the material than the spiritual distresses of men. Nevertheless, he was of the utmost value to the bishops and presbyters, for he was their feeler, groping among the poorest, entering into the worst haunts of misery and vice, quick to detect tokens of desire for better things, and ready to make use of every opening for giving rudimentary instruction.
Those who occupied the higher grades in the
Church, even at this early period, were, for the most
part, selected from the cultured and noble classes;
not that the Church had respect of persons, but because
of the need there was of possessing men who
could penetrate into the best houses, and who, being
related to the governing classes, might influence the
upper strata of society, as well as that which was
below. The great houses with their families of
slaves in the city, and of servile laborers on their
Baudillas led the girl, now shivering with cold, from the garden, and speedily reached a narrow street. Here the houses on each side were lofty, unadorned, and had windows only in the upper stories, arched with brick and unglazed. In cold weather they were closed with shutters.
The pavement of the street was of cobble-stones and rough. No one was visible; no sound issued from the houses, save only from one whence came the rattle of a loom; and a dog chained at a door barked furiously as the little party went by.
This is the house,
said Baudillas, and he struck
against a door.
After some waiting a bar was withdrawn within, and the door, that consisted of two valves, was opened by an old, slightly lame slave.
Pedo,
said the deacon, has all been well?
All is well, master,
answered the man.
Enter, ladies,
said Baudillas. My house is
humble and out of repair, but it was once notable.
Enter and rest you awhile. I will bid Pedo search
for a change of garments for Perpetua.
Hark,
exclaimed Quincta, I hear a sound like
the roar of the sea.
It is the voice of the people. It is a roar like
that for blood, that goes up from the amphitheater.
The singular transformation that had taken place in the presiding deity of the fountain, from being a nymph into a male god, had not been sufficiently complete to alter the worship of the deity. As in the days of Druidism, the sacred source was under the charge of priestesses, and although, with the change of sex of the deity, priests had been appointed to the temple, yet they were few, and occupied a position of subordination to the chief priestess. She was a woman of sagacity and knowledge of human nature. She perceived immediately how critical was the situation. If Æmilius Lentulus were allowed to proceed with his speech he would draw to him the excitable Southern minds, and it was quite possible might provoke a tumult in which the temple would be wrecked. At the least, his words would serve to chill popular devotion.
The period when Christianity began to radiate
through the Roman world was one when the
tradiLet us eat and drink, for
to-morrow we may die.
Over all men hung the threatening cloud of death. All must undergo the waning of the vital powers, the failure of health, the withering of beauty, the loss of appetite for the pleasure of life, or if not the loss of appetite, at least the faculty for enjoyment.
There was no shaking off the oppressive burden, no escape from the gathering shadow. Yet, just as those on the edge of a precipice throw themselves over, through giddiness, so did men rush on self-destruction in startling numbers and with levity, because weary of life, and these were precisely such as had enjoyed wealth to the full and had run through the whole gamut of pleasures.
What happened after death? Was there any continuance of existence?
Men craved to know. They felt that life was too brief altogether for the satisfaction of the aspirations of their souls. They ran from one pleasure to another without filling the void within.
Consequently, having lost faith in the traditional
religion—it was not a creed—itself a composite out
of some Latin, some Etruscan, and some Greek myth
and cult, they looked elsewhere for what they
re
In the midst of this general disturbance of old ideas, in the midst of a widespread despair, Christianity flashed forth and offered what was desired by the earnest, the thoughtful, the down-trodden and the conscience-stricken—a revelation made by the Father of Spirits as to what is the destiny of man, what is the law of right and wrong, what is in store for those who obey the law; how also pardon might be obtained for transgression, and grace to restore fallen humanity.
Christianity meeting a wide-felt want spread
rapidly, not only among the poor and oppressed, but
extensively among the cultured and the noble. All
connected by interest, or prejudiced by association
The chief priestess of Nemausus knew that in the then condition of minds an act of overt defiance might lead to a very general apostasy. It was to her of sovereign importance to arrest the movement at once, to silence Æmilius, to have him punished for his act of sacrilege, and to recover possession of Perpetua.
She snatched the golden apple from the hand of
the image, and, giving it to an attendant, said: Run
everywhere; touch and summon the Cultores Nemausi.
The girl did as commanded. She sped among
the crowd, and, with the pippin, touched one, then
another, calling: Worshippers of Nemausus, to the
aid of the god!
The result was manifest at once. It was as though
an electrical shock had passed through the multitude.
Those touched and those who had heard the
summons at once disengaged themselves from the
Rapidly men rallied about the white-robed priestesses, who surrounded the silver image.
To understand what was taking place it is necessary that a few words should be given in explanation.
The Roman population of the towns—not in Italy
only, but in all the Romanized provinces, banded
itself in colleges or societies very much like our
benefit clubs. Those guilds were very generally
under the invocation of some god or goddess, and
those who belonged to them were entitled Cultores
or worshippers of such or such a deity. These
clubs had their secretaries and treasurers, their places
of meeting, their common chests, their feasts, and
their several constitutions. Each society made provision
for its members in time of sickness, and furnished
a dignified funeral in the club Columbarium,
after which all sat down to a funeral banquet in the
supper room attached to the cemetery. These colleges
or guilds enjoyed great privileges, and were
protected by the law.
At a time when a political career was closed
These Cultores Nemausi at once formed into organized bodies under their several officers, in face of a confused crowd that drifted hither and thither without purpose and without cohesion.
Æmilius found himself no longer hearkened to.
To him this was a matter of no concern. He had
Now that this object was attained, he laughingly leaped from the balustrade and made as though he was about to return home.
But at once the chief priestess saw his object, and
cried: Seize him! He blasphemes the god, founder
of the city. He would destroy the college. Let
him be conveyed into the temple, that the Holy
One may there deal with him as he wills.
The Prefect of Police, whose duty it was to keep order, now advanced with the few men he had deemed necessary to bring with him, and he said in peremptory tone:
We can suffer no violence. If he has transgressed
the law, let him be impeached.
Sir,
answered the priestess, we will use no
violence. He has insulted the majesty of the god.
He has snatched from him his destined and devoted
victim. Yet we meditate no severe reprisals. All
I seek is that he may be brought into the presence
of the god in the adytum, where is a table spread
with cakes. Let him there sprinkle incense on the
fire and eat of the cakes. Then he shall go free.
Against this I have naught to advance,
said the
prefect.
But one standing by whispered him: Those cakes
are not to be trusted. I have heard of one who ate
and fell down in convulsions after eating.
That is a matter between the god and Æmilius
Varo. I have done my duty.
Then the confraternity of the Cultores Nemausi spread itself so as to encircle the place and include Æmilius, barring every passage. He might, doubtless, have escaped had he taken to his heels at the first summons of the club to congregate, but he had desired to occupy the attention of the people as long as possible, and it did not comport with his self-respect to run from danger.
Throwing over him the toga which he had cast aside when he leaped into the pond, he thrust one hand into his bosom and leisurely strode through the crowd, waving them aside with the other hand, till he stopped by the living barrier of the worshippers of Nemausus.
You cannot pass, sir,
said the captain of that
The chief
priestess hath ordered that thou appear before the
god in his cella and then do worship and submit
thyself to his will.
And how is that will to be declared?
asked the
young man, jestingly.
Sir! thou must eat one of the dedicated placenta.
I have heard of these same cakes and have no
stomach for them.
Nevertheless eat thou must.
What if I will not?
Then constraint will be used. The prefect has
given his consent. Who is to deliver thee?
Who! Here come my deliverers!
A tramp of feet was audible.
Instantly Æmilius ran back to the balustrade, leaped upon it, and, waving his arm, shouted:
To my aid, Utriculares! But use no violence.
Instantly with a shout a dense body of men that
had rolled into the gardens dashed itself against the
ring of Cultores Nemausi. They brandished marlin
spikes and oars to which were attached inflated goat-skins
and bladders. These they whirled around
The general mob roared with laughter and cheered
the boatmen who formed the attacking party. Cries
of Well done, Utriculares! That is a fine delivery,
Wind-bag-men! Ha, ha! A hundred to five on the
Utriculares! You are come in the nick of time,
afore your patron was made to nibble the poisoned
cakes.
The men armed with air-distended skins did harm to none. Their weapons were calculated to alarm and not to injure. To be banged in the face with a bladder was almost as disconcerting as to be smitten with a cudgel, but it left no bruise, it broke no bone, and the man sent staggering by a wind-bag was received in the arms of those in rear with jibe or laugh and elicited no compassion.
The Utriculares speedily reached Æmilius, gave
The men who carried and surrounded Æmilius proceeded in rapid march, chanting a rhythmic song, through the town till they emerged on a sort of quay beside a wide-spreading shallow lagoon. Here were moored numerous rafts.
Now, sir,
said one of the men, as Æmilius
leaped to the ground, if you will take my advice,
you will allow us to convey you at once to Arelate.
This is hardly a safe place for you at present.
I must thank you all, my gallant fellows, for
your timely aid. But for you I should have been
forced to eat of the dedicated cakes, and such as are
out of favor with the god—or, rather, with the priesthood
that lives by him, as cockroaches and black
beetles by the baker—such are liable to get stomach
aches, which same stomach aches convey into the
land where are no aches and pains. I thank you
all.
Nay, sir, we did our duty. Are not you patron
of the Utriculares?
I am your patron assuredly, as you did me the
honor to elect me. If I have lacked zeal to do you
service in time past, henceforward be well assured
I will devote my best energies to your cause.
We are beholden to you, sir.
I to you—the rather.
Perhaps the reader will desire to understand who the wind-bag men were who had hurried to the rescue of Æmilius. For the comprehension of this particular, something must be said relative to the physical character of the country.
The mighty Rhône that receives the melted snows of the southern slope of the Bernese Oberland and the northern incline of the opposed Pennine Alps receives also the drain of the western side of the Jura, as well as that of the Graian and Cottian Alps. The Durance pours in its auxiliary flood below Avignon.
After a rapid thaw of snow, or the breaking of
charged rain clouds on the mountains, these rivers
increase in volume, and as the banks of the Rhône
below the junction of the Durance and St. Raphael
are low, it overflows and spreads through the flat
alluvial delta. It would be more exact to say that
it was wont to overflow, rather than that it does so
The overflowing Rhône formed a vast region of
lagoons that extended from Tarascon and Beaucaire
to the Gulf of Lyons, and spread laterally over the
Crau on one side to Nîmes on the other. Nîmes
itself stood on its own river, the Vistre, but this fed
marshes and broads
that were connected with the
tangle of lagoons formed by the Rhône.
Arelate, the great emporium of the trade between
Gaul and Italy, occupied a rocky islet in the midst
of water that extended as far as the eye could reach.
This tract of submerged land was some sixty miles in
breadth by forty in depth, was sown with islets of
more or less elevation and extent. Some were bold,
rocky eminences, others were mere rubble and sand-banks
formed by the river. Arelate or Arles was
accessible by vessels up and down the river or by
rafts that plied the lagoons, and by the canal constructed
by Marius, that traversed them from Fossoe
Marino. As the canal was not deep, and as the current
of the river was strong, ships were often unable
As the sheets of water were in places and at periods shallow, the rafts were made buoyant, though heavily laden, by means of inflated skins and bladders placed beneath them.
As the conveyance of merchandise engaged a prodigious number of persons, the raftsmen had organized themselves into the guild of Utriculares, or Wind-bag men, and as they became not infrequently involved in contests with those whose interests they crossed, and on whose privileges they infringed, they enlisted the aid of lawyers to act as their patrons, to bully their enemies, and to fight their battles against assailants. Among the numerous classic monumental inscriptions that remain in Provence, there are many in which a man of position is proud to have it recorded that he was an honorary member of the club of the inflated-skin men.
Nemausus owed much of its prosperity to the
fact that it was the trade center for wool and for
skins. The Cevennes and the great limestone
plateaux that abut upon them nourished countless
The archipelago that studded the fresh-water sea was inhabited by fishermen, and these engaged in the raft-carriage. The district presented a singular contrast of high culture and barbarism. In Arles, Nîmes, Narbonne there was a Greek element. There was here and there an infusion of Phœnician blood. The main body of the people consisted of the dusky Ligurians, who had almost entirely lost their language, and had adopted that of their Gaulish conquerors, the Volex. These latter were distinguished by their fair hair, their clear complexions, their stalwart frames. Another element in the composite mass was that of the colonists. After the battle of Actium, Augustus had rewarded his Egypto-Greek auxiliaries by planting them at Nemausus, and giving them half the estates of the Gaulish nobility. To these Greeks were added Roman merchants, round-headed, matter-of-fact looking men, destitute of imagination, but full of practical sense.
These incongruous elements that in the lapse of centuries have been fused, were, at the time of this tale, fairly distinct.
You are in the right, my friends,
said Æmilius.
The kiln is heated too hot for comfort. It would
roast me. I will go even to Arelate, if you will be
good enough to convey me thither.
With the greatest of pleasure, sir.
Æmilius had an office at Arles. He was a lawyer, but his headquarters were at Nemausus, to which town he belonged by birth. He represented a good family, and was descended from one of the colonists under Agrippa and Augustus. His father was dead, and though he was not wealthy, he was well off, and possessed a villa and estates on the mountain sides, at some distance from the town. In the heats of summer he retired to his villa.
On this day of March there had been a considerable gathering of raftsmen at Nemausus, who had utilized the swollen waters in the lagoons for the conveyance of merchandise.
Æmilius stepped upon a raft that seemed to be poised on bubbles, so light was it on the surface of the water, and the men at once thrust from land with their poles.
The bottom was everywhere visible, owing to the whiteness of the limestone pebbles and the sand that composed it, and through the water darted innumerable fish. The liquid element was clear. Neither the Vistre nor the stream from the fountain brought down any mud, and the turbid Rhône had deposited all its sediment before its waters reached and mingled with those that flowed from the Cebennæ. There was no perceptible current. The weeds under water were still, and the only thing in motion were the darting fish.
The raftmen were small, nimble fellows, with dark hair, dark eyes and pleasant faces. They laughed and chatted with each other over the incident of the rescue of their patron, but it was in their own dialect, unintelligible to Æmilius, to whom they spoke in broken Latin, in which were mingled Greek words.
Now and then they burst simultaneously into a wailing chant, and then interrupted their song to laugh and gesticulate and mimic those who had been knocked over by their wind-bags.
As Æmilius did not understand their conversation
and their antics did not amuse him, he lay on
the raft upon a wolfskin that had been spread over
His mind reverted to what had taken place, but unlike the raftmen he did not consider it from its humorous side. He wondered at himself for the active part he had taken. He wondered at himself for having acted without premeditation. Why had he interfered to save the life of a girl whom he had not known even by name? Why had he been so indiscreet as to involve himself in a quarrel with his fellow-citizens in a matter in no way concerning him? What had impelled him so rashly to bring down on himself the resentment of an influential and powerful body?
The youth of Rome and of the Romanized provinces
was at the time of the empire very blasé. It
enjoyed life early, and wearied rapidly of pleasure.
It became skeptical as to virtue, and looked on the
world of men with cynical contempt. It was selfish,
sensual, cruel. But in Æmilius there was something
nobler than what existed in most; the perception
of what was good and true was not dead in him;
He thought over all that had taken place. How
marvelous had been the serenity with which Perpetua
had faced death! How ready she was to cast
away life when life was in its prime and the world
with all its pleasures was opening before her! He
could not understand this. He had seen men die
in the arena, but never thus. What had given the
girl that look, as though a light within shone through
her features? What was there in her that made him
In the heart of Æmilius there was, though he knew it not, something of that same spirit which pervaded the best of men and the deepest thinkers in that decaying, corrupt old world. All had acquired a disbelief in virtue because they nowhere encountered it, and yet all were animated with a passionate longing for it as the ideal, perhaps the unattainable, but that which alone could make life really happy.
It was this which disturbed the dainty epicureanism of Horace, which gave verjuice to the cynicism of Juvenal, which roused the savage bitterness of Perseus. More markedly still, the craving after this better life, on what based, he could not conjecture, filled the pastoral mind of Virgil, and almost with a prophet’s fire, certainly with an aching desire, he sang of the coming time when the vestiges of ancient fraud would be swept away and the light of a better day, a day of truth and goodness would break on the tear- and blood-stained world.
And now this dim groping after what was better
than he had seen; this inarticulate yearning after
something higher than the sordid round of pleasure;
What, my Æmilius! like Narcissus adoring
thine incomparable self in the water!
The young lawyer started, and an expression of annoyance swept over his face. The voice was that of Callipodius.
Oh, my good friend,
answered Æmilius, I
was otherwise engaged with my thoughts than in
thinking of my poor self.
Poor! with so many hides of land, vineyards and
sheep-walks and olive groves! Aye, and with a
flourishing business, and the possession of a matchless
country residence at Ad Fines.
Callipodius,
said the patron, thou art a worthy
creature, and lackest but one thing to make thee
excellent.
And what is that?
Bread made without salt is insipid, and conversation
seasoned with flattery nauseates. I have heard
My Æmilius! But where would you find wasps
to sting you?
Oh! they are ready and eager—and I am flying
them—all the votaries of Nemausus thou hast seen
this day. As thou lovest me, leave me to myself,
to rest. I am heavy with sleep, and the sun is hot.
Ah! dreamer that thou art. I know that thou
art thinking of the fair Perpetua, that worshiper
of an——
Cease; I will not hear this.
Æmilius made an
angry gesture. Then he started up and struck at his
brow. By Hercules! I am a coward, flying, flying,
when she is in extreme peril. Where is she now?
Maybe those savages, those fools, are hunting after
her to cast her again into the basin, or to thrust
poisoned cakes into her mouth. By the Sacred
Twins! I am doing that which is unworthy of me—that
for which I could never condone. I am leaving
the feeble and the helpless, unassisted, unprotected
in extremity of danger. Thrust back, my good
men! Thrust back! I cannot to Arelate. I must
again to Nemausus!
Æmilius had sprung to his feet and called to the men to cease punting. They rested on their poles, awaiting further instructions, and the impetus given to the raft carried it among some yellow flags and rushes.
Callipodius said: I mostly admire the splendor
of your intellect, that shines forth with solar effulgence.
But there are seasons when the sun is
eclipsed or obscured, and such is this with thee.
Surely thou dost not contemplate a return to Nemausus
to risk thy life without being in any way
able to assist the damsel. Consider, moreover—is it
worth it—for a girl?
Callipodius,
said the young lawyer in a tone
of vehemence, I cannot fly and place myself in security
and leave her exposed to the most dreadful
danger. I did my work by half only. What I did
was unpremeditated, but that done must be made a
complete whole. When I undertake anything it is
my way to carry it out to a fair issue.
That is true enough and worthy of your excellent
qualities of heart and mind. But you know
nothing of this wench, and be she all that you
imagine, what is a woman that for her you should
jeopardize your little finger? Besides, her mother
and kinsfolk will hardly desire your aid, will certainly
not invoke it.
Why not?
Callipodius shrugged his shoulders. You are a
man of the world—a votary of pleasure, and these
people are Christians. They will do their utmost
for her. They hang together as a swarm of
bees.
Who and what are these people—this mother
and her kinsfolk?
I know little about them. They occupy a house
in the lower town, and that tells its own tale. They
do not belong to the quality to which you belong.
The girl has been reputed beautiful, and many light
fellows have sought to see and have words with her.
But she is so zealously guarded, and is herself so
retiring and modest that they have encountered only
rebuff and disappointment.
I must return. I will know for certain that she
is in safety. Methinks no sooner were they balked
You shall not go back to Nemausus. You
would but jeopardize your own valuable life without
the possibility of assisting her; nay, rather wouldst
thou direct attention to her. Leave the matter with
me and trust my devotion to thine interests.
I must learn tidings of her. I shall not rest till
assured that she is out of danger. By the infernal
gods, Callipodius, I know not what is come upon
me, but I feel that if ill befall her, I could throw
myself on a sword and welcome death, life having
lost to me all value.
Then I tell thee this, most resolute of men,
said
Callipodius, I will return to the town. My nothingness
will pass unquestioned. Thou shalt tarry at
the house of Flavillus yonder on the promontory.
He is a timber merchant, and the place is clean.
The woman bears a good name, and, what is better,
can cook well. The house is poor and undeserving
of the honor of receiving so distinguished a person
as thyself; but if thou wilt condescend——
Enough. I will do as thou advisest. And, oh,
friend, be speedy, relieve my anxiety and be true as
thou dost value my esteem.
Then Æmilius signed to the raftmen to put him ashore at the landing place to the timber yard of Flavillus.
Having landed he mounted a slight ascent to a cottage that was surrounded by piles of wood—of oak, chestnut, pine and olive. Flavillus was a merchant on a small scale, but a man of energy and industry. He dealt with the natives of the Cebennæ, and bought the timber they felled, conveyed it to his stores, whence it was distributed to the towns in the neighborhood; and supplies were furnished to the shipbuilders at Arelate.
The merchant was now away, but his wife received Æmilius with deference. She had heard his name from the raftmen, and was acquainted with Callipodius, a word from whom sufficed as an introduction.
She apologized because her house was small, as
also because her mother, then with her, was at the
point of death from old age, not from any fever or
other disorder. If Æmilius Lentulus, under the
circumstances, would pardon imperfection in attendance,
she would gladly extend to him such hospitality
as she could offer. Æmilius would have gone elsewhere,
but that the only other house he could think
of that was near was a tavern, then crowded by
Utri
The house was small, and was constructed of wood upon a stone basement. The partitions between the rooms were of split planks, and the joints were in places open, and knots had come out, so that what passed in one apartment was audible, and, to some extent, visible in another. A bedroom in a Roman house was a mere closet, furnished with a bed only. All washing was done at the baths, not in the house. The room had no window, only a door over which hung a curtain.
Æmilius divested himself of his wet garment and gave it to his hostess to dry, then wrapped himself in his toga and awaited supper.
The meal was prepared as speedily as might be.
When he had eaten and was refreshed, moved by a kindly thought Æmilius asked if he might see the sick mother. His hostess at once conducted him to her apartment, and he stood by the old woman’s bed. The evening sun shone in at the door, where stood the daughter holding back the curtain, and lighted the face of the aged woman. It was thin, white and drawn. The eyes were large and lustrous.
I am an intruder,
said the young man, yet I
would not sleep the night in this house without paying
my respects to the mother of my kind hostess.
Alas! thou art one I learn who is unable to escape
that which befalls all mortals. It is a lot evaded
only by the gods, if there be any truth in the tales
told concerning them. It must be a satisfaction to
you to contemplate the many pleasures enjoyed in a
long life, just as after an excellent meal we can in
mind revert to it and retaste in imagination every
course—as indeed I do with the supper so daintily
furnished by my hostess.
Ah, sir,
said the old woman, on the couch of
death one looks not back but forward.
And that also is true,
remarked Æmilius.
What is before you but everything that can console
the mind and gratify the ambition. With your
excellent daughter and the timber-yard hard by, you
may calculate on a really handsome funeral pyre—plenty
of olive wood and fragrant pine logs from
the Cebennæ. I myself will be glad to contribute
a handful of oriental spices to throw into the flames.
Sir, I think not of that.
And the numbers who will attend and the
orations that will be made lauding your many virtues!
It has struck me that one thing only is wanting
in a funeral to make it perfectly satisfactory,
and that is that the person consigned to the flames
should be able to see the pomp and hear the good
things said of him.
Oh, sir, I regard not that!
No, like a wise woman, you look beyond.
Aye! aye!
she folded her hands and a light
came into her eyes. I look beyond.
To the mausoleum and the cenotaph. Unquestionably
the worthy Flavillus will give you a monument
as handsome as his means will permit, and for
many centuries your name will be memorialized
thereon.
Oh, sir! my poor name! what care I for that?
I ask Flavillus to spend no money over my remains;
and may my name be enshrined in the heart of my
daughter. But—it is written elsewhere—even in
Heaven.
I hardly comprehend.
As to what happens to the body—that is of little
concern to me. I desire but one thing—to be dissolved,
and to be with Christ.
Ah!—so—with Christ!
Æmilius rubbed his chin.
He is my Hope. He is my Salvation. In Him
I shall live. Death is swallowed up in Victory.
She rambles in her talk,
said he, turning to the
daughter.
Nay, sir, she is clear in her mind and dwells on
the thoughts that comfort her.
And that is not that she will have an expensive
funeral?
Oh, no, sir!
Nor that she will have a commemorative cenotaph
belauding her virtues?
Then the dying woman said: I shall live—live
forevermore. I have passed from death unto
life.
Æmilius shook his head. If this was not the raving of a disordered mind, what could it be?
He retired to his apartment.
He was tired. He had nothing to occupy him, so he cast himself on his bed.
Shortly he heard the voice of a man. He started and listened in the hopes that Callipodius had returned, but as the tones were strange to him he lay down again.
Presently a light struck through a knot in the
boards that divided his room from that of the dying
woman. Then he heard the strange voice say:
Peace be to this house and to all that dwell
therein.
It is the physician,
said Æmilius to himself.
Pshaw! what can he do? She is dying of old
age.
At first the newcomer did inquire concerning the health of the patient, but then rapidly passed to other matters, and these strange to the ear of the young lawyer. He had gathered that the old woman was a Christian; but of Christians he knew no more than that they were reported to worship the head of an ass, to devour little children, and to indulge in debauchery at their evening banquets.
The strange man spoke to the dying woman—not of funeral and cenotaph as things to look forward to, but to life and immortality, to joy and rest from labor.
My daughter,
said the stranger, indicate by
sign that thou hearest me. Fortified by the most
precious gift thou wilt pass out of darkness into
light, out of sorrow into joy, from tears to gladness
of heart, from where thou seest through a glass
darkly to where thou shalt look on the face of Christ,
the Sun of Righteousness. Though thou steppest
down into the river, yet His cross shall be thy stay
and His staff shall comfort thee. He goeth before
to be thy guide. He standeth to be thy defence.
The spirits of evil cannot hurt thee. The Good
Shepherd will gather thee into His fold. The True
Physician will heal all thine infirmities. As the
second Joshua, He will lead thee out of the wilderness
into the land of Promise. The angels of God
surround thee. The light of the heavenly city
streams over thee. Rejoice, rejoice! The night is
done and the day is at hand. For all thy labors
thou shalt be recompensed double. For all thy
sorrows He will comfort thee. He will wipe away
thy tears. He will cleanse thee from thy stains.
Æmilius, looking through a chink, saw the stranger lay his hand on the woman’s brow. He saw how the next moment he withdrew it, and how, turning to her daughter, he said:
Do not lament for her. She has passed from
death unto life. She sees Him, in whom she has
believed, in whom she has hoped, whom she has
loved.
And the daughter wiped her eyes.
Well,
said Æmilius to himself, now I begin
to see how these people are led to face death without
fear. It is a pity that it should be delusion and
mere talk. Where is the evidence that it is other?
Where is the foundation for all this that is said?
The house into which the widow lady and her
daughter entered was that used by the Christians of
Nemausus as their church. A passage led into the
Whoever entered a pagan household was expected,
as token of respect, to strew a few grains of
incense on the ever-burning hearth, or to dip his
fingers in the water basin and flip a few drops over
Immediately opposite the entrance into the
Around the wall were seats; and here, in a pagan
house, the master received his guests. His seat was
at the extremity of the apse, and was of white
mar
The
In like manner the
On the right side of the court was the
Owing to the protection extended by law to the
colleges or clubs, the Christians sought to screen
themselves from persecution by representing themselves
as forming one of these clubs, and affecting
their usages. Even on their tombstones they so
designated themselves, Cultores Dei,
and they
were able to carry on their worship under the appearance
of frequenting guild meetings. One of the
notable features of such secular or semi-religious
societies was the convivial supper for the members,
attended by all. The Church adopted this supper,
called it Agape, but of course gave to it a special
signification. It was made to be a symbol of that
unity among Christians which was supposed to exist
between all members. The supper was also a convenient
means whereby the rich could contribute to
the necessities of the poor, and was regarded as a
fulfilment of the Lord’s command: When thou
makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame,
the blind.
Already, in the third century, the believers who
belonged to the superior classes had withdrawn from
When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not
thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsman,
nor thy rich neighbors.
Their actual reason was,
however, distaste for associating with such as belonged
to the lower orders, and from being present
at scenes that were not always edifying.
The house of Baudillas had once been of consequence, and his family one of position; but that had been in the early days of the colony before the indigenous Gaulish nobility had been ousted from every place of authority, and the means for enriching themselves had been drawn away by the greed of the conquerors. The quarter of the town in which was his mansion had declined in respectability. Many of the houses of the old Volcian gentry had been sold and converted into lodgings for artisans. In this case the ancestral dwelling remained in the possession of the last representative of the family, but it was out of repair, and the owner was poor.
I hardly know what should be done,
said Baudillas
to himself, rather than to the ladies he was
escorting. The Church has been enjoined to assemble
this afternoon for the Agape, and our bishop,
Baudillas paced the court in anxiety of mind. He did not know what course to adopt. He was not a man of initiative. He was devoted to his duty and discharged whatever he was commanded to do with punctilious nicety; but he was thrown into helpless incapacity when undirected by a superior mind, or not controlled by a dominant will.
It would be difficult to communicate with the
brethren. He had but one male servant, Pedo, who
had a stiff hip-joint. He could not send him round
to give notice of a postponement, and Baudillas was
not the man to take such a step without orders.
Probably, said he to himself, the commotion would
What shall I do?
said the deacon. Castor,
our bishop, should not have absented himself at such
a time, but then how could he have foreseen what has
taken place? I will take care that the ladies be
provided with whatever they may need, and then
will sally forth and ascertain what temper our fellow-citizens
are in. We southerners blaze up like
a fire of straw, and as soon does our flame expire.
If I meet some of the brethren, I will consult with
them what is to be done. As it is we have postponed
the Agape till set of sun, when we deemed
that all the town would be indoors merry-making.
An hour later, a slave of the lady Quincta arrived
to say that her house was watched, and that the
servants did not deem it advisable to leave with the
Quincta was greatly alarmed at the tidings, and
bade that the litter should on no account be sent.
When those watching her door had been withdrawn,
then a faithful slave was to announce the fact, and
she and her daughter would steal home afoot. Thus
passed the time, with anxiety contracting the hearts
of all. Quincta was a timid woman, Baudillas, as
already said, irresolute. In the afternoon, gifts
began to arrive for the love-feast. Slaves brought
hampers of bread, quails, field-fare stuffed with
truffles; brown pots containing honey were also
deposited by them in the passage. Others brought
branches of dried raisins, apples, eggs, flasks of oil,
and bouquets of spring flowers.The sauces, cakes, sugar-plums, the
drink, the delicacies, the games, the sweetmeats, the honey.
The hour of supper with the Romans was about 2 P.M.; that,
therefore, was the time for the love-feast to begin.
Baudillas was relieved when the stream of oblations
began to flow in, as it decided for him the
A slave arrived laden with an
Sir!
said the bearer, happy is the man who
tastes of this wine from Ambrussum (near Lunel).
It shall be used with discretion, Tarsius,
said
the deacon.
By Bacchus!—I ask your pardon, deacon! Old
habits are not easily laid aside. What was I saying?
Oh—you remarked something about discretion.
That is sadly true,
observed Baudillas, and
the effect of this withdrawal is that it aggravates
the difficulties of myself and my brethren.
The choice liquor is thrown away on such as
you have as congregation. How can they relish
the Ambrussian if they have not had their palates
educated to know good liquor from bad? On my
faith as a Christian! were I master instead of slave,
I would send you the wine of the year when Sosius
Falco and Julius Clarus were consuls—then the
grapes mildewed in the bunch, and the wine is
naught but vinegar, no color, no bouquet, no substance.
Gentlemen and slaves can’t drink it. But
I reckon that my master thinks to condone his
absence by sending one of his choicest flasks.
You are somewhat free of tongue, Tarsius.
I am a frank man though enslaved. Thoughts
are free, and my tongue is not enchained. I shall
attend the banquet this evening. The master and
I think, Tarsius, I cannot do better than place
the bottle under your charge. You know its value,
and the force of the wine. Distribute as you see
fit.
Aye; I know who will appreciate it, and who
are unworthy of a drop. I accept the responsibility.
You do wisely, deacon, in trusting me—a knowing
one,
and he slapped his breast and pursed up his
mouth.
Then another servant appeared with a basket.
Here, sir!
said he to the deacon. I bring
you honey-cakes. The lady Lampridia sends them.
She is infirm and unable to leave her house, but
she would fain do something for the poor, the
almoners of Christ. She sends you these and also
garments that she has made for children. She
desires that you will distribute them among such
parents as have occasion for them.
Next came a man of equestrian rank, and drew the deacon aside.
Where is Castor?
he inquired in an agitated
voice. I cannot appear this evening. The whole
town is in effervescence. Inquisition may be made
for us Christians. There will be a tumult. When
they persecute you in one city—fly to another!
That is the divine command, and I shall obey it to
the letter. I have sent forward servants and mules—and
shall escape with my wife and children to my
villa.
The bishop is away. He will be back this
evening. I have not known what to do, whether
or not to postpone the Agape to another day.
No harm will come of it if you hold the feast.
None will attend save the poor and such as are on
the books of the Church, the widows and those to
whom a good meal is a boon. The authorities will
not trouble themselves about the like of them. I
don’t relish the aspect of affairs, and shall be off
before the storm breaks.
Then the knight added
hastily, Here is money, distribute it, and bid the
recipients pray for me and mine, that no harm
befall us.
Baudillas saw that the man was quaking with
apprehension. Verily,
said he to himself, It
is a true saying,
How hardly shall they that have
I wonder
now, whether I have acted judiciously in entrusting
that old Ambrussian to Tarsius? If the bishop
had been here, I could have consulted him.
So a weak, but good man, may even do a thing fraught with greater mischief than can be done with evil intent by an adversary.
As soon as dusk began to veil the sky, Christians in parties of three and four came to the house of Baudillas. They belonged for the most part to the lowest classes. None were admitted till they had given the pass-word.
An Beloved, let us love one
another.
Whereupon the applicant for admission
replied in the same tongue, For love is of God.
Owing to the Greek element in the province,
large at Massilia, Arelate and Narbo, but not less
considerable at Nemausus, the Hellenic tongue,
though not generally spoken, was more or less comprehended
by all in the towns. The Scriptures
were read in Greek; there was, as yet, no Italic version,
and the prayers were recited, sometimes in
Greek, sometimes in Latin. In preaching, the
bishops and presbyters employed the vernacular—this
was a conglomerate of many tongues and was
in incessant decomposition, flux, and recomposition.
In the sub-apostolic church it was customary for a banquet to be held in commemoration of the Paschal Supper, early in the afternoon, lasting all night, previous to the celebration of the new Eucharistic rite, which took place at dawn. The night was spent in hymn singing, in discourses, and in prayer.
But even in the Apostolic age, as we learn from St. Paul’s first Epistle to the Corinthians, great abuses had manifested themselves, and very speedily a change was made. The Agape was dissociated from the Eucharist and was relegated to the evening after the celebration of the Sacrament. It was not abolished altogether, because it was a symbol of unity, and because, when under control, it was unobjectionable. Moreover, as already intimated, it served a convenient purpose to the Christians by making their meetings resemble those of the benefit clubs that were under legal protection.
It may be conjectured that where the bulk of the
members were newly converted, and were ignorant,
there would speedily manifest itself among them a
tendency to revert to their pagan customs, and a
revolt against the restraints of Christian sobriety.
No sooner did persecution cease, and the reason for holding love-feasts no longer held, than they were everywhere put down and by the end of the fourth century had absolutely ceased.
In the third century Tertullian, in his Apology
addressed to the heathen, gave a rose-colored description
of the institution; but in his Treatise on
Fasting
addressed to the faithful, he was constrained
to admit that it was a nursery of abuses.
But this, indeed, common sense and a knowledge
of human nature would lead us to suspect.
We are prone to imagine that the first ages of the
Church saw only saints within the fold, and sinners
without. But we have only to read the writings
of the early Fathers to see that this was not the case.
If we consider our mission stations at the present
day, and consult our evangelists among the heathen,
we shall discover that the newly converted on
entering the Church, bring with them much of their
past: their prejudices, their superstitions, their ignorance,
and their passions. The most vigilant care
In an honest attempt to portray the condition of the Church at the opening of the third century, we must describe things as they were, and not as we should wish them to have been.
The
About thirty persons were present, male and female, but no children. Some were slaves from believing households; there were a few freedmen. Some were poor artisans, weavers, bakers, and men who sold charcoal, a porter, and a besom-maker.
Quincta and Perpetua were the highest in social
position of those present. A second deacon, named
The bishop had not arrived when the Agape began, and the blessing was spoken by an aged and feeble presbyter. The tables were spread with viands, and the deacons and deaconesses ministered to those who reclined at them. There was not room for all in the dining-chamber, and a table and couches had been spread in the court for such as could not be accommodated within.
The proceedings were marked by the strictest propriety, the eating and drinking were in moderation, conversation was edifying, and general harmony prevailed. During the meal, a knocking was heard at the outer gate, and when the porter asked the name of the applicant for admission, the password was given, and he was admitted.
All rose to receive Castor, the bishop.
Recline again, my friends,
said he. I have
come from the house of Flavillus, the timber merchant
on the
Then, standing at one of the tables, he made prayer to God, and thanked Him who had caused the corn to spring out of the earth, and had gathered the many grains into one bread; who had watered the vine from heaven, and had flushed the several grapes with generous juice, uniting the many into one bunch.
The thanksgiving ended, lights were introduced
in considerable numbers. There is no twilight in
southern climes; when night falls, it falls darkly.
Now all who had eaten went to the
The tables were quickly removed, and the benches
ranged in the
No sooner was the whole congregation assembled, than the president, Castor, invited all such as had a psalm, an interpretation, a vision, or an edifying narrative, to relate or recite it.
Then up started a little man, who held a lyre.
Sir,
said he, I have composed a poem in
honor of Andeolus, the martyr of Gentibus.
He struck a chord on his instrument, and sang.
The composition was devoid of poetry, the meter
halting, the Latin full of provincialisms, and the
place of poetic imagery was filled with extravagances
of expression. When he had concluded, he perhaps
inadvertently wound up with the words, Generous
audience, grant me your applause!
—the usual
method of conclusion on the stage.
And the request met with favor—hands were clapped.
Then Bishop Castor rose, and with a grave face, said:
We have listened to Lartius Garrulus with interest
and with edification. It is well to glorify the
memories of the holy ones who have witnessed a
good confession, who have fought the fight, and
have shed their blood as a testimony. But a poet
in treating of such subjects, should restrain his too
exuberant fancy, and not assert as facts matters of
mere conjecture, nor should he use expressions that,
though perhaps endurable in poetry, cannot be addressed
to the martyrs in sober prose. The ignorant
are too ready to employ words without considering
But,
said the deacon Marcianus, what if this
be uttered by inspiration?
The Spirit of God,
answered Castor, never
inspires the mind to import into religion anything
that is not true.
Turning round, he said: I call
on Turgellius to interpret a portion of the Epistle
of the Blessed Paul, the Apostle to the Romans,
translating it into the vulgar tongue, as there be
those present who comprehend Greek with difficulty.
This done, one rose, and said:
Sir, suffer me to disclose a revelation. I was
asleep on my bed, three nights agone, and I had a
dream, or vision, from on high. I beheld a snow-white
flock pasturing on a mountain; there was
abundance of herbage, and the sky was serene. The
shepherd stood regarding them, leaning on his staff,
and the watch-dog slept at his feet in the grass.
Then, suddenly, the heavens became obscured,
lightning flashed, thunder rolled: the flock was
terrified and scattered. Thereupon came wolves,
leaping among the sheep, and rending them; and I
That is like enough,
said Baudillas, after
what has occurred this day. If the bishop has not
heard, I will relate all to him in order.
I have been informed of everything,
said
Castor.
It is well that there should be a sifting of the
wheat from the chaff,
said Marcianus. Too long
have we had wolves masquerading among us clothed
in sheepskins. See!
He threw back his mantle,
and extended his hand. On my way hither, I passed
by the fountain of Nemausus, and none were there.
Then my soul was wrath within me at the idolatry
and worship of devils that goes on in the temple and
about the basin. So I took up a stone, and I climbed
upon the pedestal, and I beat till I had broken this
off.
Then he rolled an alabaster sculptured head
on the floor. With a contemptuous kick, he sent
it spinning. This is their god Nemausus. A
deacon of Christ’s Church, with a bit of stone, is
able to break his neck, and carry off his head!
A thrill of dismay ran through the assembly.
A woman fell into hysterics and screamed. Some
called out that she prophesied, others that she spake
with tongues. Baudillas appeased the excitement.
The tongue she speaks,
said he, is the Ligurian
of the Cebennæ, and all she says is that she wishes
she were safe with her children in the mountains,
and had never come into the town. Now, indeed,
it seems that the evil days foreseen by Pantilius
Narbo will come on the Church. The people might
forget that the god was robbed of his victim, but
not that his image has been defaced.
Well done, I say!
shouted a man, thrusting
himself forward. His face was inflamed and his
eyes dazed. I—I, Tarsius the slave, and Marcianus,
the deacon, are the only Christians with any
pluck about us. Cowards that ye all are, quaking
at the moment of danger—hares, ye are, hares afraid
of the whistling of the wind in the grass. I—I——
Remove that man,
said the bishop. He has
been drinking.
I—I drinking. I have supped the precious
Remove him,
said the bishop firmly.
Hands were laid on the fellow.
Then turning to Marcianus, Castor said sternly,
You have acted inconsiderately and wrongly,
against the decrees of the Fathers.
Aye!—of men who were timorous, and forbade
others doing that from which they shrank themselves.
I have not so learned Christ.
Thou thyself mayest be strong,
said Castor,
but thine act will bring the tempest upon the
Church, and it will fall upon the weak and young.
Such as cannot stand against the storm are good
for naught,
said Marcianus. But the storm is
none of my brewing. It had arisen before I intervened.
The escape of the lady Perpetua from the
fountain—that was the beginning, I have but added
the final stroke.
Thou hast acted very wrongly,
said the bishop.
May God, the God of all comfort, strengthen us
to stand in the evil day. In very truth, the powers
Suddenly a strange, a terrible sound was heard—a
loud, hoarse note, like a blast blown through
a triton’s shell, but far louder; it seemed to pass in
the air over the house, and set the tiles quivering.
Every wall vibrated to it, and every heart thrilled
as well. Men rushed into the
Then said Marcianus, It is the voice of the devil
Nemausus! He has thus shouted before.
As an excuse for not appearing in time at the Agape, Castor had asserted that he had been engaged on his Master’s work elsewhere. That was true. He had been at the house of the timber merchant as we have seen, and he had been detained by Æmilius as he left it. This latter had been lying on his bed resting, whilst his garments were being dried.
He had overheard what had passed in the room of the dying woman.
When the bishop went forth, then Æmilius rose from his bed, cast the ample toga about him, and walked forth. He caught Castor as he descended to the water’s edge to be paddled away.
After a short salutation, the young lawyer said:
A word with you, sir, if your time is as generously
to be disposed of to a stranger as it is lavished on
the poor and sick.
I am at your service,
answered the bishop.
My name,
said the young man, is Æmilius
Lentulus Varo. My profession is the law. I am
I am he,
answered the bishop.
It may appear to you a piece of idle curiosity,
said the young man, if I put to you certain questions,
and esteem it an impertinence, and so send
me away empty. But I pray you to afford me—if
thy courtesy will suffer it—some information concerning
a matter on which I am eager to obtain
light. I have been in the apartment adjoining that
in which the mother of the hostess lay, and I chanced—the
partition being but of plank—to overhear
what was said. I confess that I am inquisitive to
know something more certain of this philosophy or
superstition, than what is commonly reported among
the people. On this account, I venture to detain
My time is at your disposal.
You spoke to the dying woman as though she
were about to pass into a new life. Was that a
poetic fancy or a philosophic speculation?
It was neither, it was a religious conviction. I
spoke of what I knew to be true.
Knew to be true!
laughed Æmilius. How
so? Have you traveled into the world of spirits,
visited the
No. I receive the testimony from One I can
trust.
One! All men are liars. I knew a fellow who
related that he had fallen into an epileptic fit, and
that during the fit his spirit had crossed the Styx.
But as he had no penny wherewith to pay the fare,
I did not believe him. Moreover, he never told the
story twice alike, and in other matters was an arrant
liar.
Whom would you believe?
None, nothing save my own experience.
Not Him who made and who sustains your
existence, my good sir?
Yes, if I knew Him and were assured He
spoke.
That is the assurance I have.
Æmilius shook his head. When, how, where,
and by whom did He declare to men that there is
a life beyond the tomb?
The
when was in the principate of Tiberius
Cæsar, the how was by the mouth of His only-begotten
Son, the where was in Palestine.
The young lawyer laughed. There is not a
greater rogue and liar on the face of the earth
than a Jew. I cannot believe in a revelation made
elsewhere than at the center of the world, in the
city of Rome.
Rome is the center of the world to you—but
is it so to the infinite God?
Æmilius shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.
I am a lawyer. I ask for evidence. And I would
not trust the word of a Jew against that of a common
Gaulish peasant.
Nor need you. The witness is in yourself.
I do not understand you.
Have not all men, at all times and everywhere
desired to know what is to be their condition after
death? Does not every barbarous people harbor
I allow all that. But what of it?
How comes it that there should be such a conviction
based on no grounds whatever, but a vague
longing, unless there were such a reality provided
for those who have this desire in them? Would
the Creator of man mock him? Would He put this
hunger into him unless it were to be satisfied? You
have eyes that crave for the light, and the light
exists that satisfies this longing! You have ears
that desire sounds, and the world is full of voices
that meet this desire. Where there is a craving
there is ever a reality that corresponds with and
gives repose to that desire. Look,
said the bishop,
and pointed to the water in which were reflected
the stars that now began to glitter in the sky. Do
you see all those twinkling points in the still water?
They correspond to the living luminaries set above
in the vault. You in your soul have these reflections—sometimes
seen, sometimes obscured, but ever
returning. They answer to realities in the celestial
world overhead. The reflections could not be
There is a score of other things we long after in
vain here.
What things? I believe I know. Purity, perfection,
justice. Well, you do not find them here
entire—only in broken glints. But these glints
assure you that in their integrity they do exist.
A boat was propelled through the water. It broke the reflections, that disappeared or were resolved into a very dust of sparkles. As the wavelets subsided, however, the reflections reformed.
Castor walked up and down beside Æmilius in silence for a few turns, then said:—
The world is full of inequalities and injustices.
One man suffers privation, another is gorged. One
riots in luxury at the expense of the weak. Is there
to be no righting of wrongs? no justice to be ever
done? If there be a God over all, He must, if just—and
who can conceive of God, save as perfectly
just?—He must, I say, deal righteous judgment and
smooth out all these creases; and how can he do so,
unless there be a condition of existence after death
in which the wrongs may be redressed, the evil-doers
be punished, and tears be wiped away?
There is philosophy in this.
Have you not in your conscience a sense of right
as distinct from wrong—obscured often, but ever
returning—like the reflection of the stars in the
water? How comes it there unless there be the
verities above? Unless your Maker so made you
as to reflect them in your spirit?
Æmilius said nothing.
Have you not in you a sense of the sacredness
of Truth, and a loathing for falsehood? How comes
that, unless implanted in you by your Creator, who
is Truth itself?
But we know not—in what is of supreme interest
to us—in matters connected with the gods,
what our duties, what our destiny—what is the
Truth.
Young man,
said the bishop, thou art a
seeker after the kingdom of Heaven. One word
further, and I must leave thee. Granted there are
these scintillations within—
Yes, I grant this.
And that they be reflections of verities above.
Possibly.
Whence else come they?
Æmilius did not, could not answer.
Then,
said Castor, is it not antecedently probable
that the God who made man, and put into his
nature this desire after truth, virtue, holiness, justice,
aye, and this hunger after immortality, should
reveal to man that without which man is unable to
direct his life aright, attain to the perfection of his
being, and look beyond death with confidence?
If there were but such a revelation!
I say—is it conceivable that the Creator should
not make it?
Thou givest me much food for thought,
said
the lawyer.
Digest it—looking at the reflection of the stars
in the water—aye! and recall what is told by Aristotle
of Xenophanes, how that casting his eyes upward
at the immensity of heaven, he declared
The
One is God. That conviction, at which the philosopher
arrived at the summit of his research, is
the starting point of the Christian child. Farewell.
We shall meet again. I commend thee to Him
who set the stars in heaven above, and the lights in
thine own dim soul.
Then the bishop sought a boat, and was rowed in the direction of the town.
Æmilius remained by the lagoon.
Words such as these he had heard were novel. The thoughts given him to meditate on were so deep and strange that he could not receive them at once.
The night was now quite dark, and the stars shone with a brilliancy to which we are unaccustomed in the North, save on frosty winter nights.
The Milky Way formed a sort of crescent to the north, and enveloped Cassiopeia’s Chair in its nebulous light. To the west blazed Castor and Pollux, and the changing iridescent fire of Algol reflected its varying colors in the water.
Æmilius looked up. What those points of light were, none could say. How was it that they maintained their order of rising and setting? None could answer. Who ruled the planets? That they obeyed a law, was obvious, but by whom was that law imposed?
Æmilius paced quicker, with folded arms and bowed head, looking into the water. The heavens were an unsolved riddle. The earth also was a riddle, without interpretation. Man himself was an enigma, to which there was no solution. Was all in heaven, in earth, to remain thus locked up, unexplained?
How was it that planets and constellations fulfilled the law imposed on them without deviation, and man knew not a law, lived in the midst of a cobweb of guesses, entangling himself in the meshes of vain speculations, and was not shown the commandment he must obey? Why had the Creator implanted in his soul such noble germs, if they were not to fructify—if only to languish for lack of light?
Again he lifted his eyes to the starry vault, and
repeated what had been said of Xenophanes, Gazing
on the immensity of heaven, he declared that
the One was God.
And then, immediately looking
down into the depths of his own heart, he added:
And He is reflected here. Would that I knew
Him.
Yet how was he to attain the desired knowledge? On all sides were religious quacks offering their nostrums. What guarantee did Christianity offer, that it was other than the wild and empty speculations that swarmed, engaged and disappointed the minds of inquirers?
Unconscious how time passed, Æmilius paced the
bank. Then he stood still, looking dreamily over
the calm water. A couple of months more and the
Thinking of this, Æmilius laughed.
So is it,
said he, in the world of philosophic
thought and religious aspiration. The air is full of
fire-flies. They seem to be brilliant torch-bearers
assuring us guidance, but they are only vile grubs,
and they float above the festering pool that breeds
malarial fevers. Where is the truth, where?
From the distant city sounded a hideous din, like the bellow of a gigantic bull.
Æmilius laughed bitterly.
I know what that is, it is the voice of the god—so
say the priestesses of Nemausus. It is heard at
rare intervals. But the mason who made my baths
at Ad Fines, explained it to me. He had been engaged
on the temple and saw how a brazen instrument
like a shell of many convolutions had been
contrived in the walls and concealed, so that one
woman’s breath could sound it and produce such a
bellow as would shake the city. Bah! one religion
Every house in Nemausus thrilled with life. Sleep was driven from the drowsiest heads. The tipsy were sobered at once. Those banqueting desisted from conversation. Music was hushed. Men rushed into the street. The beasts in the amphitheater, startled by the strange note, roared and howled. Slowly the chief magistrate rose, sent to summon an edile, and came forth. He was not quick of movement; it took him some time to resolve whether he or his brother magistrate was responsible for order; when he did issue forth, then he found the streets full, and that all men in them were talking excitedly.
The god Nemausus, the
Some young skeptics whispered: By Hercules,
the god has a brazen throat.
It is his hunting horn that peals to call attention.
What he will say will be revealed to the
priestess.
Or what the priestess wishes to have believed is
his message.
But this incredulous mood was exhibited by very few. None ventured openly to scoff.
The god hath spoken!
this was the cry through
the streets and the forum. Every man asked his
fellow what it signified. Some cried out that the
prince—the divine Aurelius Antoninus (Caracalla)—had
been assassinated, just as he was about to start
from Rome for Gaul. Others that the privileges
of the city and colony were going to be abrogated.
But one said to his fellow, I augured ill when we
heard that the god had been cheated of his due. No
I wonder that the rescue passed off without
notice being taken of the affair by the magistrates.
Bah! it is the turn of the Petronius Alacinus
now, and he will not bestir himself unnecessarily.
So long as the public peace be not broken——
But it was—there was a riot, a conflict.
A farcical fight with wind-bags. Not a man was
hurt, not a drop of blood flowed. The god will not
endure to be balked and his sacrifice made into a
jest.
He is hoarse with rage.
What does it all mean?
Then said a stout man: My good friend, it means
that which always happens when the priesthood is
alarmed and considers that its power is menaced—its
credit is shaken. It will ask for blood.
There has been a great falling off of late in the
worshipers of the gods and in attendance at the
games.
This comes of the spread of the pestilent sect of
the Christians. They are the enemies of the human
race. They eat little children. The potter Fusius
lost his son last week, aged six, and they say it was
Bah! the body was found in the channel of the
stream the child had fallen in.
I heard it was found half eaten,
said a third.
Rats, rats,
explained another standing by.
Well, these Christians refuse to venerate the
images of the Augustus, and therefore are foes to
the commonwealth. They should be rooted out.
You are right there. As to their religious
notions—who cares about them? Let them adore
what they will—onions like the Egyptians, stars like
the Chaldeans, a sword like the Scythians—that is
nothing to us; but when they refuse to swear by the
Emperor and to offer sacrifice for the welfare of the
empire then, I say, they are bad citizens, and should
be sent to the lions.
The lions,
laughed the stout man, seem to
respond to the voice, which sounded in their ears,
Dinner for you, good beasts!
Well, may we have
good sport at the games founded by Domitius Afer.
I love to lie in bed when the
Perhaps the only man whom the blast did not
startle was Tarsius, the inebriated slave, who had
been expelled the house of Baudillas, and who was
engrossed only with his own wrongs, and who
departed swearing that he excommunicated the
Church, not the Church him. He muttered threats;
he stood haranguing on his own virtues, his piety,
his generosity of spirit; he recorded many acts of
charity he had done. And I—I to be turned out!
They are a scurvy lot. Not worthy of me. I will
start a sect of my own, see if I do not.
Whilst reeling along, growling, boasting, confiding
his wrongs to the walls on each side, he ran
against Callipodius just as the words were in his
mouth: I am a better Christian than all of them.
I don’t affect sanctimoniousness in aspect, but I am
sound, sound in my life—a plain, straight-walking
man.
Are you so?
asked Callipodius. Then I
wish you would not festoon in such a manner as
to lurch against me. You are a Christian. Hard
times are coming for such as you.
Aye, aye! I am a Christian. I don’t care who
Callipodius caught the fellow by the shoulder and shook him.
Man,
said he. Ah, a slave! I recognize
you. You are of the family of Julius Largus
Litomarus, the wool merchant. Come with me.
The games are in a few days, and the director of the
sports has been complaining that he wanted more
prisoners to cast to the beasts. I have you in the
nick of time. I heard you with these ears confess
yourself to be a Christian, and the sole worthy one
in the town. You are the man for us—plump and
juicy, flushed with wine. By the heavenly twins,
what a morsel you will make for the panthers!
Come with me. If you resist I will summon the
crowd, then perhaps they will elect to have you
crucified. Come quietly, and it shall be panthers,
not the cross. I will conduct you direct to the
magistrate and denounce you.
I pray you! I beseech you! I was talking
The slave
winked.
Beside Callipodius was a lad bearing a torch. He held it up and the flare fell over the face of the now sobered Tarsius.
Come with me, fellow,
said Callipodius.
Nothing will save you but perfect obedience and
compliance with what I direct. Hark! was not that
the howl of the beasts. Mehercule! they snuff you
already. My good friend Æmilius Lentulus Varo,
the lawyer, will be your patron; a strong man. But
you must answer my questions. Do you know the
Lady Quincta and her daughter? Quincta is the
widow of Harpinius Læto.
Aye, aye! the wench was fished out of the pond
to-day.
That is right. Where are they, do you know
their house?
Yes, but they are not at home now.
Where are they then?
Will you denounce them?
asked the slave
nervously.
On the contrary. They are menaced. I seek
to save them.
Oh! if that be all, I am your man. They are
in the mansion of Baudillas, yonder—that is—but
mum, I say! I must not speak. They kicked me
out, but I am not ungenerous. I will denounce
nobody. But if you want to save the ladies, I will
help you with alacrity. They charged me with
being drunk—not the ladies—the bishop did that—more
shame to him. I but rinsed out my mouth
with the Ambrussian. Every drop clear as amber.
Ah, sir! in your cellar have you——
A rush of people up the street shouting, The
will of the god! the will of the god! It is being
proclaimed in the forum.
They swept round Callipodius and the slave, spinning them, as leaves are spun in a corner by an eddy of wind, then swept forward in the direction of the great square.
Come aside with me, fellow,
said Callipodius,
darting after the slave who was endeavoring to slink
away. What is your name? I know only your
face marked by a scar.
Tarsius, at your service, sir!
Good Tarsius, here is money, and I undertake
to furnish you with a bottle of my best old Ambrussian
for your private tipple, or to make merry
therewith with your friends. Be assured, no harm
is meant. The priests of Nemausus seek to recover
possession of the lady Perpetua, and it is my aim
to smuggle her away to a place of security. Do
thou watch the door, and I will run and provide
litters and porters. Do thou assure the ladies that
the litters are sent to convey them in safety to where
they will not be looked for; say thy master’s house.
I will answer for the rest. Hast thou access to
them?
Aye! I know the pass-word. And though I
have been expelled, yet in the confusion and alarm
I may be suffered again to enter.
Very excellent. Thou shalt have thy flask and
an ample reward. Say that the litters are sent by
thy master, Largus Litomarus.
Right, sir! I will do thy bidding.
Then Callipodius hastened in the direction of the habitation of Æmilius.
Meanwhile the forum filled with people, crowding
on one another, all quivering with excitement.
Few women were present. Such as were, belonged to the lowest of the people. But there were boys and men, old and young, slaves, artisans, freedmen, and citizens.
Among the ignorant and the native population the old Paganism had a strong hold, and their interests attached a certain number of all classes to it. But the popular Paganism was not a religion affecting the lives by the exercise of moral control. It was devoid of any ethic code. It consisted in a system of sacrifice to obtain a good journey, to ward off fevers, to recover bad debts, to banish blight and mildew. The superstitious lived in terror lest by some ill-considered act, by some neglect, they should incur the wrath of the jealous gods and bring catastrophe on themselves or their town. They were easily excited by alarm, and were unreasonable in their selfish fervor.
Ever in anticipation of some disaster, an earthquake,
a murrain, fire or pestilence, they were ready
The procession came from the temple. Torches were borne aloft, a long wavering line of lurid fire, and vessels were carried in which danced lambent flames that threw out odoriferous fumes.
First came the priests; they walked with their
heads bowed and their arms folded across their
breasts, and with fillets of wool around their heads.
Then followed the priestesses shrouded in sable
mantles over their white tunics. All moved in
silence. A hush fell on the multitude. Nothing
was heard in the stillness save the tramp of feet in
rhythm. When the procession had reached the
forum, the chief priestess ascended the rostrum, and
the flambeau-bearers ranged themselves in a half-circle
below. She was a tall, splendidly formed
Suddenly she raised her arms and extended them, letting the black pall drop from her shoulders, and reveal her in a woven silver robe, like a web of moonlight, and with white bare arms. In her right she bore an ivory silver-bound wand with mistletoe bound about it, every berry of translucent stone.
Then amidst dead silence she cried: The god
hath spoken, he who founded this city, from whom
are sprung its ancient patrician families, who supplieth
you with crystal water from his urn. The
holy one demands that she who hath been taken
from him be surrendered to him again, and that
punishment be inflicted on the Christians who have
desecrated his statue. If this, his command, be not
fulfilled, then will he withhold the waters, and
deliver over the elect city to be a desolation, the
haunt of the lizard and the owl and bat. To the
lions with the Christians!
With the exception of the bishop, Marcianus, and
a few others, all assembled at the Agape were struck
with the liveliest terror. They entertained no
doubt but that the sound that shook the walls was
provoked by the outrage on the image of the tutelary
god, following on the rescue of the victim
The pagan inhabitants of Nemausus were roused to exasperation. The priesthood would employ every available means to work this resentment to a paroxysm, and the result would be riot and murder, perhaps an organized persecution.
It must be understood that although the Roman
State recognized other religions than the established
paganism, as that of the Jews, and allowed the
votaries freedom of worship, yet Christianity was
not of this number. It was in itself illegal, and any
magistrate, at his option, in any place and at any
time, might put the laws in force against the members
of the Church. Not only so, but any envious,
The system in the Roman Commonwealth for the maintenance of order was that every man was empowered to act as spy upon and delate another. Any man might accuse his neighbor, his brother, before the court; and if he could prove his charge, the magistrate had no option—he must sentence. Consequently the Christians depended for their safety on the favor of their fellow-citizens, on their own abstention from giving offence.
The sole protection against false accusations in the Roman Commonwealth lay in the penalties to which an accuser was subject should he fail to establish his charge. But as on conviction a portion of the estate of the guilty person was handed over to the accuser, there was an inducement to delation.
Under the Julian and Claudian Cæsars the system
had worked terribly. An entire class of men
made denunciation their trade. They grew rich on
the spoils of their victims, they spared none, and
the judges themselves lived in fear of them. The
evil became so intolerable that measures were taken
When an Emperor issued an edict against the
Christians he enacted no new law; he merely required
that the
The Christians in Nemausus had lived in complete tranquillity. There had been no persecution. They had multiplied.
The peace enjoyed by the Church had been to it of a mixed advantage. Many had been included whose conversion was due to questionable motives. Some had joined through sincere conviction; more from conviction seasoned with expectation of advantage. The poor had soon learned that a very rich and abundant stream of charity flowed in the Church, that in it the sick and feeble were cared for and their necessities were supplied, whereas in the established paganism no regard was paid to the needy and suffering. Among the higher classes there were adherents who attached themselves to the Church rather because they disbelieved in heathenism than that they held to the Gospel. Some accepted the truth with the head, but their hearts remained untouched.
None had given freer expression to his conviction
that there were weak-kneed and unworthy members
than Marcianus the deacon. He had remonstrated
with the bishop, he had scolded, repelled, but without
effect. And now he had taken a daring step,
the consequence of which would be that the members
of the community would indeed be put to the
test whether they were for Christ or Mammon. The
conviction that a time of trial was come broke on
A few, a very few maintained their composure, and extending their arms fell to prayer.
Baudillas hurried from one party to another uttering
words of reassurance, but his face was blanched,
his voice quivered, and he was obviously employing
formal expressions that conveyed no strength to his
own heart. Marcianus, with folded arms, looked at
him scornfully, and as he passed, said, The bishop
Ah, brother,
sighed Baudillas, it is with me
as with Peter. The spirit truly is willing, but the
flesh is weak.
That was spoken of him,
answered Marcianus,
before Pentecost and the outpouring of the spirit
of strength. Such timidity, such feebleness are
unworthy of a Christian.
Pray for me that my faith fail not,
said Baudillas,
and passed on. By action he deadened his
fears. Now came in Pedo, the old servant of the
house, who had been sent forth to reconnoiter. His
report was not reassuring. The mob was sweeping
through the streets, and insisting on every household
producing an image at its doors and placing a light
before it. There were fuglemen who directed the
crowd, which had been divided into bands to perambulate
every division of the town and make inquisition
of every house. The mob had begun by
breaking into such dwellings as were not protected
by an image, and wrecking them. But after one or
two of such acts of violence, the magistrates had
interfered, and although they suffered the people
to assemble before the houses and to clamor for the
i.e., the watch) to guard such dwellings as
remained undecorated. When the master of the
house refused obedience to the mandate of the mob,
then an officer ordered him to open the door, and he
summoned him to appear next day in court and there
do sacrifice. By this means the mob was satisfied
and passed on without violence.
But as the crowd marched down the streets it arrested every man and woman that was encountered, and insisted on their swearing by the gods and blaspheming Christ.
Castor ordered the congregation to depart by twos
and by threes, to take side alleys, and to avoid the
main thoroughfares. This was possible, as the
My sons and daughters in Christ,
said the
bishop with composure, remember that greater is
He that is with us than those that be against us.
When the servant of Elisha feared, then the Lord
opened his eyes that he might behold the angels with
chariots and horses of fire prepared to defend His
servant. Avoid danger, but if it cannot be avoided
stand firm. Remember His words,
He that
con
As soon as all had departed, but not till then, did
Castor leave. Marcianus turned with a sneer to his
fellow-deacon and said, Fly! you have full license
from the bishop; and he sets the example himself.
I must tarry in my own house,
answered Baudillas.
I have the ladies Quincta and Perpetua
under my protection. They cannot return to their
home until they be fetched.
So! they lean on a broken reed such as thee!
Alack! they have none other to trust to.
The mob is descending our street,
cried the
slave, Pedo, limping in.
What are we to do?
asked Quincta trembling.
If they discover me and my daughter here we are
undone. They will tear her from my arms.
The deacon Master, Tarsius is at
the door with litters and bearers. He saith he hath
been sent for the lady Perpetua.
And for me?
asked Quincta eagerly.
And for thee also, lady. It is said that guards
are observing thy house and that, therefore, thy
slaves cannot venture hither. Therefore, so says
But his house will be visited!
The bearers have instructions as to what shall
be done.
This is strange,
said Quincta. I did not suppose
that Largus Litomarus would have shown such
consideration. We are not acquainted—indeed we
belong to different classes——
Yet are ye one in Christ,
said the deacon.
Call in Tarsius, he shall explain the matter. But
let him be speedy or the rabble will be on us.
They are at the head of the street,
said the
slave, and visit the door of Terentius Cominius.
He believes.
And he has set out a figure of the Good Shepherd
before his door with a lamp. The crowd regards it
as a Mercury and has cheered and gone on to the
next door.
Tarsius, thoroughly recovered from his intoxication, was now admitted. He looked none in the face, and stumbled through his tale. Julius Largus Litomarus had bidden him offer his litters; there were curtains closing them, and his servants would convey the ladies to a place of security.
Quincta was too frightened, too impatient to be off, to question the man, nor was the deacon more nice in inquiry, for he also was in a condition of nervous unrest.
The shouts of the mob could be heard.
I do not wholly trust this man,
said Baudillas.
He was expelled for misconduct. Yet, what can
we do? Time presses! Hark!—in a brief space
the rabble will be here. Next house is a common
lodging and will not detain them. Would that
Marcianus had remained. He could have advised
us. Madam, act as you think best.
The mob is on the move,
said Pedo. They
have been satisfied at the house of Dulcius Liber,
and now Septimus Philadelphus is bringing out half-a-dozen
gods. Master—there is not a moment to
be lost.
Let us fly—quick!
gasped Quincta.
She plucked her daughter’s arm, and fairly dragged her along the passage out of the house.
In the street they saw a flare. The rabble, held in control by some directing spirit, was furnished with torches. It was roaring outside a house, impatient because no statue was produced, and proceeded to throw stones and batter the door.
That house is empty,
whispered Pedo. The
master was bankrupt and everything sold. There
is not a person in it.
Quincta mounted the
Tarsius remained behind. He handed Perpetua into the second closed litter, then gave the word, and ran beside it, holding the curtains together with one hand.
Baudillas trembling for himself was now left alone.
Master!
said the old slave, moving uneasily
on his stiff joint, before the even more nervously
agitated master, Master, there is the freedwoman
Glyceria below, who comes in charing. She has
brought an idol of Tarranus under her cloak, and
offers to set that with a lamp before the door. She
is not a believer, she worships devils, but is a good
soul and would save us. She awaits your permission.
The deacon was profoundly moved.
It must not be! It may not be! I—I am a
deacon of the Church. This is known to be a
Christian household. The Church is in my house,
and here the divine mysteries are celebrated. If
she had not asked my leave, and had—if—but
no, I cannot sanction this. God strengthen me,
I am distracted and weak.
The slave remained.
He expected that his master in the end would
yield.
And yet,
stammered Baudillas, He hath
com
And now it is too late,
said the slave. They
are at the door.
Blows resounded through the house, and the
roar of voices from the street surged up over the
roof, and poured in through the opening over the
You must open, Pedo. I will run upstairs for
a moment and compose myself. Then—if it must
be—but do not suffer the rabble to enter. If a
prefect be there, or his underling and soldiers, let
them keep the door. Say I shall be down directly.
Yet stay—is the
Sir—the mob have detailed a party to go to
the backs of the houses and watch every way of
exit.
Then it is God’s will that I be taken. I cannot
help myself. I am glad I said No to the offer of
Glyceria.
The deacon ascended a flight of limestone steps to the upper story. The slabs were worn and cracked, and had not been repaired owing to his poverty. He entered a room that looked out on the street, and went to the window.
The street above his doorway was dense with people, below it was completely empty. Torches threw up a glare illumining the white façades of the houses. He saw a sea of heads below. He heard the growl of voices breaking into a foam of coarse laughter. Curses uttered against the Christians, blasphemies against Christ, words of foulness, threats, brutal jests, formed the matter of the hubbub below. A man bearing a white wand with a sprig of artificial mistletoe at the end, gave directions to the people where to go, where to stop, what to do. He was the head of the branch of the guild of the Cultores Nemausi for that portion of the town.
Someone in the mob lifting his face, looked up
and saw the deacon at the window, and at once
shouted, There! there he is! Baudillas Macer,
Then rose hoots and yells, and a boy putting his hands together and blowing produced an unearthly scream.
He is one of them! He is a ringleader! He
has an ass’s head in the house to which he sacrifices
our little ones. He it was who stuck needles into
the child of the potter Fusius, and then gnawed off
the cheeks and fingers. He can inform where is
the daughter of Aulus Harpinius who was snatched
from the basin of the god. Let us avenge on him
the great sacrilege that has been committed. It was
he who struck off the head of the god.
Then one flung a stone that crashed into the room, and had not Baudillas drawn back, it would have struck and thrown him down stunned.
Let the house be ransacked!
yelled the mob.
We will seek in it for the bones of the murdered
children. Break open the door if he will not unfasten.
Bring a ladder, we will enter by the windows.
Someone ascend to the roof and drop into
the
Then ensued a rush against the valves, but they
were too solid to yield; and the bars held them
The slave Pedo now knocked on the inside. This was the signal that he was about to open.
The soldiers drew up across the entrance, and when the door was opened, suffered none to enter the house save the deputy of the prefect with four of his police, and some of the leaders of the Cultores Nemausi. And now a strange calm fell on the hitherto troubled spirit of Baudillas. He was aware that no effort he could make would enable him to escape. His knees, indeed, shook under him as he went to the stairs to descend, and forgetting that the tenth step was broken, he stumbled at it and was nearly precipitated to the bottom. Yet all wavering, all hesitation in his mind was at an end.
He saw the men in the court running about, calling
to each other, peering into every room, cubicle,
and closet; one called that the cellar was the place
in which the infamous rites of the Christians were
performed and that there would be found amphoræ
filled with human blood. Then one shouted that
in the
It is he who has done it! The sacrilegious one!
The defacer of the holy image!
howled the men,
and fell upon the deacon with their fists. Some
plucked at his hair; one spat in his face. Others
kicked him, and tripping him up, cast him his length
on the ground, where they would have beaten and
trampled the life out of him, had not the deputy
of the ædile interfered, rescued him from the hands
of his assailants and thrust him into a chamber at
the side of the hall, saying: He shall be brought
before the magistrate. It is not for you to take
into your hands the execution of criminals untried
and uncondemned.
Then one of the officers of the club ran to the
doorway of the house, and cried: Citizens of Nemausus,
hearken. The author of the egregious
impiety has been discovered. It is Cneius Baudillas
Macer, who belongs to an ancient, though decayed,
A yell of indignation rose as an answer.
The slave Pedo was suffered to enter the bedroom, on the floor of which lay his master bruised and with his face bleeding; for some of his front teeth had been broken and his lips were cut.
Oh master! dear master! What is to be done?
asked the faithful creature, sobbing in his distress.
I wonder greatly, Pedo, how I have endured
so much. My fear is lest in the end I fall away.
I enjoin you—there is naught else you can do for
me—seek the bishop, and ask that the prayers of the
Church may go up to the Throne of Grace for me.
I am feeble and frail. I was a frightened shy lad
in old times. If I were to fall, it would be a shame
to the Church of God in this town, this Church that
has so many more worthy than myself in it.
Can I bring thee aught, master? Water and a
towel?
Nay, nothing, Pedo! Do as I bid. It is all
that I now desire.
The soldiers entered, raised the deacon, and made
him walk between them. A man was placed in
front, another behind to protect him against the
people. As Baudillas was conveyed down the
One portion of the mob now detached itself from the main body, so as to follow and surround the deacon and assure itself that he did not escape before he was consigned to the prison.
The city of Nemausus, capital of the Volcæ Arecomici,
though included geographically in the province
of Narbonese Gaul, was in fact an independent
republic, not subject to the proconsul, but under
Roman suzerainty. With twenty-four
Baudillas walked between his escort. He was
in a dazed condition. The noise, the execrations
cast at him, the flashing of the torches on the helmets
and breastplates of the guard, the glittering eyes and
teeth of the faces peering at him, the pain from the
contusions he had received combined to bewilder
him. In the darkness and confusion of his brain,
but one thought remained permanent and burnt like
a brilliant light, his belief in Christ, and one desire
In times of persecution certain strong spirits had rushed to confession and martyrdom in an intoxication of zeal, such as Baudillas could not understand. He did not think of winning the crown of martyrdom, but he trembled lest he should prove a castaway.
Thrust forward, dragged along, now stumbling, then righted by the soldiers sustaining him, Baudillas was conveyed to the forum and to the basilica where the magistrate was seated.
On account of the disturbance, the Duum-vir—we
will so term him though he was actually one of
the Quatuor-viri—he whose turn it was to maintain
order and administer justice, had taken his place
in the court, so as to be able to consign to custody
such as were brought in by the guard on suspicion
of being implicated in the outrage; he was there as
well for the purpose of being ready to take measures
promptly should the mob become unmanageable.
So long as it was under control, he did not
Although the magistrates were chosen by popular election, it was not those who constituted the rabble who had votes, and had to be humored, but the citizen householders, who viewed the upheaval of the masses with jealous suspicion.
That the proceedings should be conducted in an orderly manner, instructions had been issued that no arrest was to be made without there being someone forthcoming to act as accuser, and the soldiers were enjoined to protect whosoever was menaced against whom no one was prepared to formulate a charge which he would sustain in court.
In the case of Baudillas there would be no difficulty. The man—he was the treasurer of the guild—who had found the mutilated head was ready to appear against him.
The court into which the deacon was brought
rapidly filled with a crowd, directly he had been
placed in what we should now call the dock. Then
the accuser stood up and gave his name. The
magis
This sufficed as preliminary.
Baudillas was now
Perpetua was carried along at a swinging trot in
the closed litter, till the end of the street had been
reached, and then, after a corner had been turned,
the bearers relaxed their pace. It was too dark
for her to see what were the buildings past which
she was taken, even had she withdrawn the curtains
that shut in the litter; but to withdraw these curtains
would have required her to exert some force, as they
were held together in the grasp of Tarsius, running
and striding at the side. But, indeed, she did not
suppose it necessary to observe the direction in which
she was being conveyed. She had accepted in good
faith the assurance that the
God had delivered her from a watery death, and
she regarded the gift as one to be respected; her
life thus granted her was not to be wilfully thrown
It was not till the porters halted, and knocked at
a door, and she had descended from the palanquin,
that some suspicion crossed her mind that all was
not right. She looked about her, and inquired for
her mother. Then one whom she had not hitherto
noticed drew nigh, bowing, and said: Lady, your
youthful and still beautiful mother will be here
presently. The slaves who carry her have gone
about another way so as to divert attention from
your priceless self, should any of the mob have set
off in pursuit.
The tone of the address surprised the girl. Her mother was not young, and although in her eyes that mother was lovely, yet Quincta was not usually approached with expressions of admiration for her beauty.
Again Perpetua accepted what was said, as the
reason given was plausible, and entered the house.
Is this the house of Julius Largus
Litomarus?
Admirable is your ladyship’s perspicuity. Even
in the dark those more-than-Argus eyes discern the
truth. The worthy citizen Largus belongs to the
sect. He is menaced as well as other excellent
citizens by the unreasoning and irrational vulgar.
He has therefore instructed that you should be conveyed
to the dwelling of a friend, only deploring
that it should be unworthy of your presence.
May I ask your name, sir?
Septimus Callipodius, at your service.
I do not remember to have heard the name,
but,
she added with courtesy, that is due to my
ignorance as a young girl, or to my defective
memory.
It is a name that has not deserved to be harbored
in the treasury of such a mind.
The girl was uneasy. The fulsome compliment
and the obsequious bow of the speaker were not
merely repugnant to her good taste, but filled her
with vague misgivings. It was true that exaggeration
and flattery in address were common enough
I will summon a female slave to attend on your
ladyship,
said he; and she will conduct you to
the women’s apartments. Ask for whatever you
desire. The entire contents of the house are at your
disposal.
I prefer to remain here in the court till my
mother shall arrive.
Alas! adorable lady! it is possible that you may
have to endure her absence for some time. Owing
to the disturbed condition of the streets, it is to be
feared that her carriage has been stopped; it is not
unlikely that she may have been compelled to take
refuge elsewhere; but, under no circumstances short
of being absolutely prevented from joining you, will
she fail to meet you to-morrow in the villa Ad
Fines.
Whose villa?
The villa to which, for security, you and your
mother the Lady Quincta are to be conveyed till
the disturbances are over, and the excitement in
men’s minds has abated. By Hercules! one might
I cannot go to Ad Fines without her.
Lady, in all humility, as unworthy to advise you
in anything, I would venture to suggest that your
safety depends on accepting the means of escape that
are offered. The high priestess has declared that
nothing will satisfy the incensed god but that you
should be surrendered to her, and what mercy you
would be likely to encounter at her hands, after what
has taken place, your penetrating mind will readily
perceive. Such being the case, I dare recommend
that you snatch at the opportunity offered, fly the
city and hide in the villa of a friend who will die
rather than surrender you. None will suspect that
you are there.
What friend? Largus Litomarus is scarcely to
be termed an acquaintance of my mother.
Danger draws close all generous ties,
said
Callipodius.
But my mother?
Your mother, gifted with vast prudence, may
have judged that her presence along with you would
That she will never do.
In that case, I shudder at the consequences.
But why suppose the worst? She has been delayed.
And now, lady, suffer me to withdraw—it is an
eclipse of my light to be beyond the radiance of
your eyes. I depart, however, animated by the conviction,
and winging my steps, that I go to perform
your dearest wish—to obtain information relative
to your lady mother, and to learn when and where
she will rejoin you. Be ready to start at dawn—as
soon as the city gates are opened, and that will
be in another hour.
Then Perpetua resigned herself to the female servants,
who led her into the inner and more private
portions of the house, reached by means of a passage
called the Jaws
(
Perpetua was aware that she was in a difficult
situation, one in which she was unable to know how
she was placed, and from which she could not
extri
In pagan Rome, it was not customary for girls to be allowed the liberty that alone could give them self-confidence. Perhaps the condition of that evil world was such that this would not have been possible. When the foulest vice flaunted in public without a blush, when even religion demoralized, then a Roman parent held that the only security for the innocence of a daughter lay in keeping her closely guarded from every corrupting sight and sound. She was separated from her brothers and from all men; she associated with her mother and with female slaves only. She was hardly allowed in the street or road, except in a litter with curtains close drawn, unless it were at some religious festival or public ceremony, when she was attended by her relatives and not allowed out of their sight.
This was due not merely to the fact that evil was rampant, but also to the conviction in the hearts of parents that innocence could be preserved only by ignorance. They were unable to supply a child with any moral principle, to give it any law for the government of life, which would plant the best guardian of virtue within, in the heart.
Augustus, knowing of no divine law, elevated sentimental admiration for the simplicity of the ancients into a principle—only to discover that it was inadequate to bear the strain put on it; that the young failed to comprehend why they should control their passions and deny themselves pleasures out of antiquarian pedantry. Marcus Aurelius had sought in philosophy a law that would keep life pure and noble, but his son Commodus cast philosophy to the winds as a bubble blown by the breath of man, and became a monster of vice. Public opinion was an unstable guide. It did worse than fluctuate, it sank. Much was tolerated under the Empire that was abhorrent to the conscience under the Republic. It allowed to-day what it had condemned yesterday. It was a nose of wax molded by the vicious governing classes, accommodated to their license.
Although a Christian maiden was supplied with
that which the most exalted philosophy could not
furnish—a revealed moral code, descending from
the Creator of man for the governance of man, yet
Christian parents could not expose their children to
contamination of mind by allowing them the wide
freedom given at this day to an English or American
girl. Moreover, the customs of social life had to be
Although Perpetua was greatly exhausted by the strain to which she had been exposed during the day, she could not rest when left to herself in a quiet room, so alarmed was she at the absence of her mother.
An hour passed, then a second. Finally, steps sounded in the corridor before her chamber, and she knew that she must rise from the couch on which she had cast herself and continue her flight.
A slave presented herself to inform Perpetua
that Callipodius had returned with the tidings that
her mother was unable at once to rejoin her, that
she was well and safe, and had preceded her to Ad
Fines; that she desired her daughter to follow with
the utmost expedition, and that she was impatient
I will follow you with all speed. Leave me to
myself.
Then, when the slave had withdrawn, Perpetua
hastily arranged her ruffled hair, extended her arms,
and turning to the east, invoked the protection of
the God who had promised, I will never leave
thee, nor forsake thee.
On descending to the
The gray dawn had appeared. Market people from the country were coming into the town with their produce in baskets and carts.
The bearers jogged along till the road ascended
The journey was long; the light grew. Presently
the sun rose and flushed all with light and heat. The
chill that had penetrated to the marrow of the
drowsy girl gave way. She had refused food before
starting; now, when the bearers halted at a little
wayside tavern for refreshment and rest, she accepted
some cakes and spiced wine from the fresh
open-faced hostess with kindly eyes and a pleasant
smile, and felt her spirits revive. Was she not to
rejoin her dear mother? Had she not escaped with
She continued her journey with a less anxious heart. The scenery improved, the heights were wooded, there were juniper bushes, here and there tufts of pale helebore.
Then the litter was borne on to a terrace before a mass of limestone crag and forest that rose in the rear. A slave came to the side of the palanquin and drew back the curtain. Perpetua saw a bright pretty villa, with pillars before it forming a peristyle. On the terrace was a fountain plashing in a basin.
Lady,
said the slave, this is Ad Fines. The
master salutes you humbly, and requests that you
will enter.
The master? What master?
Æmilius Lentulus Varo.
Baudillas found that there were already many in
the prison, who had been swept together by the mob
and the soldiers, either for having refused to produce
an image, or for having declined to sacrifice. To
his no small surprise he saw among them the wool-merchant
Julius Largus Litomarus. The crowd
had surrounded his house, and as he had not complied
with their demands, they had sent him to the
duumvir,
The two magistrates who sat in court and gave
sentence were Petronius Atacinus and Vibius Fuscianus,
and they took it in turns to sit, each being
the acting magistrate for a month, when he was succeeded
by the other. Atacinus was a humane man,
easy-going, related to the best families in the place,
In Rome and in every other important city, the
Yet the duumvir judged that it would be
emi
Petronius had already resolved on his course. He had used every sort of evasion that could be practiced. He had knowingly abstained from enjoining on the keepers of the city gates the requisition of a passport from such as left the town. The more who fled and concealed themselves, the better pleased would he be.
Nevertheless, he had no thought of allowing the mutilation of the statue to pass unpunished, and he was resolved on satisfying the priesthood by restoring Perpetua to them. If he were obliged to put any to death, he would shed the blood only of such as were inconsiderable and friendless.
There was another element that entered into the
matter, and which helped to render Atacinus inclined
to leniency. The Cæsar at the time was M.
The duumvir Atacinus was alive to the inclinations and the temper of the prince, and was the more afraid of offending him by persecution of the Christians, as the Emperor was about shortly to visit Gaul, and might even pass through Nemausus.
If in such a condition of affairs the Christians
were exposed to danger, it may well be inferred that,
where it was less favorable, their situation was surrounded
with danger. They were at all times liable
to fall victims to popular tumults, occasioned sometimes
by panic produced by an earthquake, by
resentment at an accidental conflagration which the
vulgar insisted on referring to the Christians, sometimes
by distress at the breaking out of an epidemic.
When Baudillas saw the wool merchant in the prison, he went to him immediately. Litomarus was sitting disconsolately on a stone bench with his back against the prison wall.
I did not go to the Agape,
said he; I
was afraid to do so. But I might as well. The
people bellowed under my windows like bulls of
Bashan.
And you did not exhibit an image?
No, I could not do that. Then the
But before you were arrested, you thought considerately
of Perpetua and her mother Quincta.
I do not understand to what you refer.
To the sending of litters for them.
I sent no litters.
Your slave Tarsius came to my house to announce
that you had been pleased to remember the
ladies there taking refuge, and that you had placed
your two palanquins at their disposal.
Tarsius said this?
Even Tarsius.
Tarsius is a slippery rascal. He was very fond
of our little Cordula, and was wont to carry her
on his shoulder, so we have liked him because of
that. Nevertheless, he is—well, not trustworthy.
May God avert that a trap has been laid to
ensnare the virgin and her mother. Tarsius was
expelled the Church for inebriety.
I know nothing about the palanquins. I have
but one. After the death of little Cordula, I did
not care to keep a second. I always carry about
with me a lock cut from her head after death. It
is like floss silk.
The wool merchant was too greatly absorbed in
his own troubles to give attention to the matter that
When day broke, Litomarus was released. His brother was a pagan and had easily satisfied the magistrate. This brother was in the firm, and traveled for it, buying fleeces from the shepherds on the limestone plateaux of Niger and Larsacus. He had been away the day before, but on his return in the morning, on learning that Julius was arrested, he spoke with the duumvir, presented him with a ripe ewe’s milk cheese just brought by him from Larsacus, and obtained the discharge of Julius without further difficulty.
Baudillas remained in prison that morning, and
it was not till the afternoon that he was conducted
into court. By this time the duumvir was tired and
irritable. The
The head of the god had been found in his house,
It was noticeable that nothing had been said about the punishing of Æmilius. Even the god, as interpreted by the priestess, had made no demand that he should be dealt with; in fact, had not mentioned him. The duumvir perfectly understood this reticence. Æmilius Lentulus belonged to a good family in the upper town, and to that most powerful and dreaded of all professions—the law. Even the divine founder shrank from attacking a member of the long robe, and a citizen of the upper town.
When Baudillas appeared in court, the magistrate demanded an explanation of the fact of the broken head being found in his house, and further asked of him where Perpetua was concealed.
Baudillas would offer no explanation on the first
head; he could not do so without incriminating his
brother in the ministry. He denied that he had
committed the act of violence, but not that he knew
who had perpetrated the outrage. As to where Perpetua
was, that he could not say, because he did
not know. His profession of ignorance was not
believed. He was threatened with torture, but in
Then Petronius Atacinus turned and looked at
the
A Roman prison consisted of several parts, and
the degree of severity exercised was marked by the
portion of the
The most tolerable portion of the jail consisted
of the outer court, with its cells, and a hall for
shelter in cold and wet weather. This was in fact
the common Erat et robur, locus in carcere, quo præcipitabatur maleficorum
genus, quod ante arcis robustis includebatur.
—Liv.
38, 39.
When Jeremiah was accused before King Zedekiah of inciting the people to come to terms with the Chaldeans, he was put into such a place as this.
Then took they Jeremiah, and cast him into the
dungeon of Malchiah, that was in the court of the
prison, and they let down Jeremiah with cords. And
in the dungeon there was no water, but mire; so
Jeremiah sunk in the mire.
When Paul and Silas were at Philippi, they were
imprisoned in the superior portion of the
Baudillas turned gray with horror at the thought of being consigned to the awful abyss. His courage failed him and he lost power in his knees, so that he was unable to sustain himself, and the jailer’s assistants were constrained to carry him.
As he was conveyed through the outer court, those who were awaiting their trial crowded around him, to clasp and kiss his hand, to encourage him to play the man for Christ, and to salute him reverently as a martyr.
I am no martyr, good brethren,
said the deacon
in a feeble voice. I am not called to suffer for the
faith, I have not been asked to sacrifice; I am to be
thrown down into the pit, because I cannot reveal
what I do not know.
One man, turning to his fellow, said, in a low
tone: If I were given my choice, I would die by
fire rather than linger in the pit.
Will he die there of starvation?
asked another,
or will he smother in the mire?
If he be sentenced to be retained there till he
God deliver me from such a trial of my faith!
I might win the crown through the sword, but a
passage to everlasting life through that foul abyss—that
would be past endurance.
As Baudillas was supported through the doorway into the inner prison, he turned his head and looked at the brilliant sky above the yard wall. Then the door was shut and barred behind him. All, however, was not absolutely dark, for there was a gap, through which two fingers could be thrust, under the door, and the sun lay on the threshold and sent a faint reflection through the chamber.
Nevertheless, on entering from the glare of the sun, it seemed to Baudillas at first as though he were plunged in darkness, and it was not for some moments that he could distinguish the ledge that surrounded the well-like opening. The jailer now proceeded to strike a light, and after some trouble and curses, as he grazed his knuckles, he succeeded in kindling a lamp. He now produced a rope, and made a loop at one end about a short crosspole.
Sit astride on that,
said he curtly.
Baudillas complied, and with his hands grasped the cord.
Then slowly he was lowered into the pitch blackness below. Down—down—down he descended, till he plashed into the mire.
The jailer holding the lamp, looked down and
called to him to release the rope. The deacon
obeyed. There he stood, looking up, watching the
dancing pole as it mounted, then saw the spark of
the lamp withdrawn; heard the retreating steps
of the jailer, then a clash like thunder. The door
of the
Then he said, and tears coursed down his cheeks
as he said it: Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit—in
the place of darkness and in the grave.
REVEALED UNTO BABES
On account of the death in the family of the timber merchant, Æmilius left the house and took a room and engaged attendance in the cottage of a cordwainer a little way off. The house was clean, and the good woman was able to cook him a meal not drowned in oil nor rank with garlic.
He was uneasy because Callipodius did not return, and he obtained no tidings concerning Perpetua. The image of this maiden, with a face of transparent purity, out of which shone the radiance of a beautiful soul, haunted his imagination and fluttered his heart. He walked by the side of the flooded tract of land, noticed that the water was falling, and looked, at every turn he took, in the direction of Nemausus, expecting the arrival of his client, but always in vain.
He did at length see a boat approach, towards
evening, and he paced the little landing-place with
quick strides till it ran up against it; and then only,
On the strength of his slight acquaintance Æmilius greeted the bishop. The suspense was become unendurable. He asked to be granted a few words in private. To this Castor gladly consented.
He, the head of the Christian community, had remained unmolested. He belonged to a senatorial family in the town, and had relations among the most important officials. The duumvir would undoubtedly leave him alone unless absolutely obliged to lay hands on him. Nemausus was divided into two towns, the Upper and the Lower, each with its own water-supply, its own baths, and each distinct in social composition.
The lower town, the old Gallic city, that venerated
the hero-founder of the same name as the town,
was occupied by the old Volcian population and by
a vast number of emancipated slaves of every nationality,
many engaged in trade and very rich. These
freedmen were fused into one order,
as it was
termed, that of the
The upper town contained the finest houses, and
was inhabited by the Roman colonists, by some
descendants of the first Phocean settlers, and by such
Such scions of the old Gaulish houses had become fused by marriage and community of interest with the families of the first colonists, and they affected contempt for the pure-blooded old aristocracy who had sunk into poverty and insignificance in their decayed mansions in Lower Nemausus.
Of late years, slowly yet surely, the freedmen who had amassed wealth had begun to invade superior Nemausus, had built themselves houses of greater magnificence and maintained an ostentatious splendor that excited the envy and provoked the resentment of the old senatorial and knightly citizens.
The great natural fountain supplied the lower
town with water, but was situated at too low a
level for the convenience of the gentry of Upper
Nemausus, who had therefore conveyed the spring
water of Ura from a great distance by tunneling
mountains and bridging valleys, and thus had furnished
themselves with an unfailing supply of the
liquid as necessary to a Roman as was the air he
Devotion to the god of the fountain in Lower Nemausus was confined entirely to the inhabitants of the old town, and was actually a relic of the old Volcian religion before the advent of the colonists, Greek and Roman. It had maintained itself and its barbarous sacrifice intact, undisturbed.
No victim was exacted from a family of superior Nemausus. The contribution was drawn from among the families of the native nobility, and it was on this account solely that the continuance of the septennial sacrifice had been tolerated.
Already, however, the priesthood was becoming
aware that a strong feeling was present that was
averse to it. The bulk of the well-to-do population
had no traditional reverence for the Gaulish
founder-
From the cordwainer Æmilius had heard of the mutilation of the statue and of the commotion it had caused. This, he conjectured, accounted for the delay of Callipodius. It had interfered with his action; he had been unable to learn what had become of the damsel, and was waiting till he had definite tidings to bring before he returned. Æmilius was indignant at the wanton act of injury done to a beautiful work of art that decorated one of the loveliest natural scenes in the world. But this indignation was rendered acute by personal feeling. The disturbance caused by the rescue of the virgin might easily have been allayed; not so one provoked by such an act of sacrilege as the defacing of the image of the divine founder. This would exasperate passions and vastly enhance the danger to Perpetua and make her escape more difficult.
As Æmilius walked up from the jetty with the
bishop, he inquired of him how matters stood with
the Christians in the town and received a general
answer. This did not satisfy the young lawyer,
and, as the color suffused his face, he asked
particu
The bishop turned and fixed his searching eyes on the young man.
Why make you this inquiry?
he asked.
Surely,
answered Æmilius, I may be allowed
to feel interest in one whom I was the means
of rescuing from death. In sooth, I am vastly
concerned to learn that she is safe. It were indeed
untoward if she fell once more into the
hands of the priesthood or into those of the populace.
The ignorant would grip as hard as the interested.
She is not in the power of either,
answered
Castor. But where she is, that God knows, not I.
Her mother is distracted, but we trust the maiden
has found a refuge among the brethren, and for her
security is kept closely concealed. The fewer who
know where she is the better will it be, lest torture
be employed to extort the secret. The Lady Quincta
believes what we have cause to hope and consider
probable. This is certain: if she had been discovered
and given up to the magistrate the fact would
be known at once to all in the place.
To break the image of the god was a wicked
said Æmilius irritably. Is such
conduct part of your religion?
The act was that of a rash and hot-headed member
of our body. It was contrary to my will, done
without my knowledge, and opposed to the teaching
of our holy fathers, who have ever dissuaded from
such acts. But in all bodies of men there are hot-heads
and impulsive spirits that will not endure
control.
Your own teaching is at fault,
said Æmilius
peevishly. You denounce the gods, and yet express
regret if one of you put your doctrine in
practice.
If images were ornaments only,
said the bishop,
then they would be endurable; but when they
receive adoration, when libations are poured at
their feet, then we forbid our brethren to take
part in such homage, for it is idolatry, a giving
to wood and stone the worship due to God alone.
But we do not approve of insult offered to any
man’s religion. No,
said Castor emphatically;
Christianity is not another name for brutality,
and that is brutality which insults the religious
sentiment of the people, who may be ignorant but
are sincere.
They had reached the rope-walk. The cordwainer was absent.
Let us take a turn,
said the bishop; and then
he halted and smiled and extended his palm to a
little child that ran up to him and put its hand
within his with innocent confidence.
This,
said Castor, is the son of the timber
merchant.
Then to the boy: Little man, walk
with us, but do not interrupt our talk. Speak only
when spoken to.
He again addressed the lawyer:
My friend, if I may so call thee, thou art vastly
distressed at the mutilation of the image. Why
so?
Because it is a work of art, and that particular
statue was the finest example of the sculpture of a
native artist. It was a gift to his native town of
the god Marcus Antoninus (the Emperor Antoninus
Pius).
Sir,
said Castor, you are in the right to be
incensed. Now tell me this. If the thought of the
destruction of a statue made by man and the gift
of a Cæsar rouse indignation in your mind, should
you not be more moved to see the destruction of
living men, as in the shows of the arena—the
slaughter of men, the work of God’s hands?
That is for our entertainment,
said Æmilius,
yet with hesitation in his voice.
Does that condone the act of the mutilator of
the image, that he did it out of sport, to amuse a
few atheists and the vulgar? See you how from his
mother’s womb the child has been nurtured, how
his limbs have grown in suppleness and grace and
strength; how his intelligence has developed, how
his faculties have expanded. Who made the babe
that has become a man? Who protected him from
infancy? Who builds up this little tenement of an
immortal and bright spirit?
He led forward and
indicated the child of Flavillus. Was it not God?
And for a holiday pastime you send men into the
arena to be lacerated by wild beasts or butchered
by gladiators! Do you not suppose that God, the
maker of man, must be incensed at this wanton
destruction of His fairest creation?
What you say applies to the tree we fell, to the
ox and the sheep we slaughter.
Not so,
answered the bishop. The tree is
essential to man. Without it he cannot build himself
a house nor construct a ship. The use of the
tree is essential to his progress from barbarism.
Nay, even in barbarism he requires it to serve him
According to your teaching death sentences are
condemned, as also are wars.
Not so. The criminal may forfeit his right to
a life which he is given to enjoy upon condition that
he conduce to the welfare of his fellows. If, instead
thereof, he be a scourge to mankind, he loses his
rights. As to the matter of war: we must guard the
civilization we have built up by centuries of hard
labor and study after improvement. We must protect
our frontiers against the incursions of the barbarians.
Unless they be rolled back, they will overwhelm
us. Self-preservation is an instinct lodged
in every breast, justifying man in defending his life
and his acquisitions.
Your philosophy is humane.
It is not a philosophy. It is a revelation.
In what consists the difference?
A philosophy is a groping upwards. A revelation
is a light falling from above. A philosophy is
reached only after the intellect is ripe and
experi
Castor took the child in his arms and lifted him to a marble pedestal.
Little child,
said he, answer me a few simple
questions. Who made you?
God,
answered the boy readily.
And why did He make you?
To love and serve Him.
And how can you serve Him?
By loving all men.
What did the Great Master say was the law by
which we are to direct our lives?
He that loveth God, let him love his brother
also.
Little child, what is after death?
Eternity.
And in eternity where will men be?
Those that have done good shall be called to
life everlasting, and those that have done evil will
be cast forth into darkness, where is weeping and
gnashing of teeth.
The bishop took the child from the pedestal, and set him again on the ground.
Then, with a smile on his face, he said to Æmilius,
Do we desire to know our way
after we have erred
or before we start? What was hidden from the wise
and prudent is revealed unto babes. Where philosophy
ends, there our religion begins.
Æmilius paced the rope-walk in deep thought. He did not speak during several turns, and the bishop respected his meditation and kept silence as well.
Presently the young man burst forth with: This
is fairly put, plausible and attractive doctrine. But
what we lawyers demand is evidence. When was
the revelation made? In the reign of the god
Tiberius? That was two centuries ago. What proof
is there that this be not a cleverly elaborated philosophy—as
you say, a groping upwards—pretending
to be, and showing off itself as, a lightening
downwards?
The evidence is manifold,
answered Castor.
In the first place, the sayings and the acts of the
Divine Revealer were recorded by evangelists who
lived at the time, knew Him, heard Him, or were
with those who had daily companied with Him.
Of what value is such evidence when we cannot
put the men who gave it in the witness-box and
There is other evidence, ever-living, ever-present.
What is that?
Your own reason and conscience. You, Æmilius
Lentulus, have these witnesses in yourself. He
who made you seated a conscience in your soul to
show you that there is such a thing as a law of right
and wrong, though, as far as you know, unwritten.
Directly I spoke to you of the
sin of murdering
men to make pastime, your color changed; you
knew that I was right. Your conscience assented
to my words.
I allow that.
My friend, let me go further. When your mind
is not obscured by passion or warped by prejudice,
then you perceive that there is a sphere of holiness,
of virtue, of purity, to which men have not yet attained,
and which, for all you see, is unattainable
situated as you are, but one into which, if man could
mount, then he would be something nobler than
even the poets have conceived. You have flashes of
summer lightning in your dark sky. You reject the
monstrous fables of the gods as inconsistent with
I can say nothing to that. I do not know it.
Yes, you do know it. The babe declared it;
gave you the marrow and kernel of the gospel: Love
God and man.
To fear God is what I can understand; but to
love Him is more than I can compass.
Because you do not know God.
I do not, indeed.
God is love.
A charming sentiment; a rhetorical flourish.
What evidence can you adduce that God is love?
Creation.
The earth is full of suffering; violence prevails;
wrong overmasters right. There is more of misery
than of happiness, saving only to the rich and noble;
they are at any rate supposed to be exempt, but, by
Hercules, they seem to me to be sick of pleasure,
and every delight gluts and leaves a bad taste in
the mouth.
That is true; but why is there all this wretchedness?
Because the world is trying to get along without
God. Look!
The bishop stooped and took
If I cast this insect
into the water it will suffer and die. If I fling it
into the fire it will writhe and perish in agony.
Neither water nor fire is the element for which it
was created—in which to exist and be happy. The
divine law is the atmosphere in which man is made
to live. Because there is deflection from that, and
man seeks other ends than that for which he was
made, therefore comes wretchedness. The law of
God is the law man must know, and knowing, pursue
to be perfectly happy and to become a perfect
being.
Now I have you!
exclaimed Æmilius, with a
laugh. There are no men more wretched than
Christians who possess, and, I presume, keep this
law. They abstain from our merry-makings, from
the spectacles; they are liable to torture and to
death.
We abstain from nothing that is wholesome and
partaken in moderation; but from drunkenness, surfeiting,
and what is repugnant to the clean mind.
As to the persecution we suffer, the powers of evil
rebel against God, and stir up bad men to resist the
truth. But let me say something further—if I do
not weary you.
Not at all; you astonish me too much to weary
me.
You are dropped suddenly—cast up by the sea
on a strange shore. You find yourself where you
have never been before. You know not where to
go—how to conduct yourself among the natives;
what fruits you may eat as wholesome, and must
reject as poisonous. You do not know what course
to pursue to reach your home, and fear at every step
to get further from it. You cry out for a chart to
show you where you are, and in what direction you
should direct your steps. Every child born into this
world is in a like predicament. It wants a chart,
and to know its bearings. This is not the case with
any animal. Every bird, fish, beast, knows what
to do to fulfill the objects of its existence. Man
alone does not. He has aspirations, glimmerings, a
law of nature traced, but not filled in. He has lived
by that natural law—you live under it, and you
experience its inadequacy. That is why your conscience,
all mankind, with inarticulate longing desires
something further. Now I ask you, as I did
once before, is it conceivable that the Creator of
man, who put in man’s heart that aspiration, that
longing to know the law of his being, without which
You have given me food for thought. Yet, my
doubts still remain.
I cannot give you faith. That lightens down
from above. It is the gift of God. Follow the law
of your conscience and He may grant it you. I
cannot say when or how, and what means he may
employ—but if you are sincere and not a trifler
with the truth—He will not deny it you. But see—here
comes some one who desires to speak with
you.
Æmilius looked in the direction indicated, and saw Callipodius coming up from the water-side, waving his hand to him. So engrossed had he been in conversation with Castor, that he had not observed the arrival of a boat at the landing-place.
At once the young lawyer sped to meet his client, manifesting the utmost impatience.
What tidings—what news?
was his breathless
question.
As good as may be,
answered Callipodius.
The gods work to fulfill thy desire. It is as if thou
wert a constraining destiny, or as though it were a
I pray, lay aside this flattery, and speak plain
words.
Resplendent genius that thou art! thou needest
no flattery any more than the sun requires burnishing.
Let me entreat—the news!
In two words——
Confine thyself to two words.
She is safe.
Where? How?
Now must I relax my tongue. In two words
I cannot satisfy thy eagerness.
Then, Body of Bacchus! go on in thine own
fashion.
The account may be crushed into narrow compass.
When I left your radiant presence, then I
betook myself to the town and found the place in
turmoil—the statue of the god had been broken,
and the deity was braying like a washerwoman’s
jackass. The populace was roused and incensed by
the outrage, and frightened by the voice of the god.
All had quieted down previously, but this worked up
the people to a condition of frantic rage and panic.
To my house!
Æmilius started.
Next, she was hurried off as soon as ever the
gates were opened, to your villa at Ad Fines.
And she is there now, with her mother?
With her mother! I know better than to do
that. I bade the porters convey the old lady in
her palanquin to the goose and truffle market and
deposit her there. No need to be encumbered with
her.
The Lady Quincta not with her daughter?
You were not desirous for further acquaintance
with the venerable widow, I presume.
But,
said Æmilius, this is a grave matter.
You have offered, as from me, an insult most wounding
to a young lady, and to a respectable matron.
Generous man! how was it possible for me to
understand the niceties that trouble your perspicuous
mind? But be at ease. Serious sickness demands
strong medicines. Great dangers excuse bold measures.
The priestess has demanded the restoration
of the virgin. The
Æmilius knitted his arms behind his back, and took short turns, in great perturbation of mind.
By Hercules!
said he, you have committed
an actionable offense.
Of course, you look on it from a legal point of
view,
said Callipodius, a little nettled. I tell you
it was a matter of life or death.
I do not complain of your having conveyed the
young lady to Ad Fines, but of your not having
taken her mother there along with her. You have
put me in a very awkward predicament.
How was I to judge that the old woman was
to be deported as well?
You might have judged that I would cut off my
The client shrugged his shoulders. You seem
to breed new scruples.
I thank you,
said Æmilius, that you have
shown so good a will, and have been so successful
in your enterprise. I am, perhaps, over hasty and
exacting. I desired you to do a thing more perfectly
than perhaps you were able to perform it.
Leave me now. I must clear my mind and discover
what is now to be done.
There is no pleasing some folk,
said Callipodius
moodily.
Baudillas had been lowered into the pit of the
Cautiously, in obscurity, he groped, uncertain even whether he went straight or was describing a curve. But presently he touched the wall and immediately discovered a bench, and seated himself thereon. Then he drew up his feet out of the mire, and cast himself in a reclining position on the stone seat.
He looked up, but could not distinguish the opening by which he had been let down into the horrible cess-pit. He was unable to judge to what depth he had been lowered, nor could he estimate the extent of the dungeon in which he was confined.
The bench on which he reposed was slimy, the walls trickled with moisture, were unctuous, and draped with a fungous growth in long folds. The whole place was foul and cold.
How long would his confinement last? Would food, pure water be lowered to him? Or was he condemned to waste away in this pit, from starvation, or in the delirium of famine to roll off from his shelf and smother in the mire?
After a while his eyes became accustomed to the dark and sensitive to the smallest gradations in it; and then he became aware of a feeble glowworm light over the surface of the ooze at one point. Was it that some fungoid growth there was phosphorescent? Or was it that a ray of daylight penetrated there by some tortuous course?
After long consideration it seemed to him probable
that the light he distinguished might enter by a
series of reflections through the outfall. He thought
of examining the opening, but to do so he would be
constrained to wade. He postponed the exploration
till later. Of one thing he was confident, that although
a little sickly light might be able to struggle
into this horrible dungeon, yet no means of
egress for the person would be left. Precautions
The time passed heavily. At times Baudillas sank into a condition of stupor, then was roused to thought again, again to lapse into a comatose condition. His cut lip was sore, his bruises ached. He had passed his tongue over his broken teeth till they had fretted his tongue raw.
The feeble light at the surface became fainter, and this was finally extinguished. The day was certainly at an end. The sun had set in the west, an auroral glow hung over the place of its decline. Stars were beginning to twinkle; the syringa was pouring forth its fragrance, the flowering thorns their too heavy odor. Dew was falling gently and cool.
The deacon raised his heart to God, and from this
terrible pit his prayer mounted to heaven; a prayer
not for deliverance from death, but for grace to
endure the last trial, and if again put to the test, to
withstand temptation. Then he recited the evening
prayer of the Church, in Greek: O God, who art
without beginning and without end, the Maker of
the world by Thy Christ, and the sustainer thereof,
God and Father, Lord of the spirit, King of all
Apostolic Constitutions,
viii. 37.Depart in peace!
and to dismiss the faithful.
Now he said, Into Thy hands I commend my
spirit.
Out of that fetid abyss and its horrible darkness rose the prayer to God, winged with faith, inspired by fervor sweet with humility, higher than the soaring lark, higher than the faint cloud that caught the last rays of the set sun, higher than the remotest star.
Presently a confused sound from above reached
the prisoner, and a spot of orange light fell on the
water below. Then came a voice ringing hollow
down the depth, and echoed by the walls, Thy
food!
A slender rope was sent down, to which
was attached a basket that contained bread and a
pitcher of water. Baudillas stepped into the ooze
and took the loaf and the water vessel.
Then the jailer called again: To-morrow morning—if
more be needed—I will bring a second
supply. Send up the empty jar when I lower that
which is full, if thou art in a condition to require it.
He laughed, and the laugh resounded as a bellow in
the vaulted chamber.
Few were the words spoken, and they ungracious. Yet was the deacon sensible of pleasure at hearing even a jailer’s voice breaking the dreadful silence. He waded back to his ledge, ate the dry bread and drank some of the water. Then he laid himself down again. Again the door clashed, sending thunders below, and once more he was alone.
As his hand traveled along the wall it encountered
a hard round knot. He drew his hand away precipitately,
but then, moved by curiosity, groped for
it again. Then he discovered that this seeming
ex
Time dragged. Not a sound could be heard save the monotonous drip of some leak above. Baudillas counted the falling drops, then wearied of counting, and abandoned the self-imposed task.
Now he heard a far-away rushing sound, then came a blast of hot vapor blowing in his face. He started into a sitting posture, and clung to his bench. In another moment he heard the roar of water that plunged from above; and a hot steam enveloped him. What was the signification of this? Was the pit to be flooded with scalding water and he drowned in it? In a moment he had found the explanation. The water was being let off from the public baths. There would be no more bathers this night. The tide of tepid water rose nearly level with the ledge on which he was crouching, and then ebbed away and rolled forth at the vent through which by day a pale halo had entered.
Half suffocated, part stupefied by the warm vapor,
Baudillas sank into a condition without thought, his
eyes looking into the blackness above, his ears hearing
without noting the dribble from the drain
Baudillas remained motionless, save that he trembled; he was sick at heart. In this awful prison he dared not sleep, lest he should be devoured alive.
Was this to be his end—to be kept awake by horror of the small foes till he could endure the tension no longer, and then sink down in dead weariness and blank indifference on his bench, and at once be assailed from all sides, to feel the teeth, perhaps to attempt an ineffectual battle, then to be overcome and to be picked to his bones?
As he sat still, hardly breathing, he felt the rats again. They were rallying, some swimming, some swarming up on to the shelf. They rushed at him with the audacity given by hunger, with the confidence of experience, and the knowledge of their power when attacking in numbers.
He cried out, beat with his hands, kicked out with his feet, swept his assailants off him by the score; yet such as could clung to his garment by their teeth and, not discomfited, quickly returned. To escape them he leaped into the mire; he plunged this way, then that; he returned to the wall; he attempted to scramble up it beyond their reach, but in vain.
Wherever he went, they swam after him. He was unarmed, he could kill none of his assailants; if he could but decimate the horde it would be something. Then he remembered the pitcher and felt for that. By this time he had lost his bearings wholly. He knew not where he had left the vessel. But by creeping round the circumference of his prison, he must eventually reach the spot where he had previously been seated, and with the earthenware vessel he would defend himself as long as he was able.
Whilst thus wading, he was aware of a cold draught blowing in his face, and he knew that he had reached the opening of the sewer that served as outfall. He stooped and touched stout iron bars forming part of a grating. He tested them, and assured himself that they were so thick set that it was not possible for him to thrust even his head between them.
All at once the rats ceased to molest him. They had retreated, whither he could not guess, and he knew as little why. Possibly, they were shrewd enough to know that they had but to exercise patience, and he must inevitably fall a prey to their teeth.
Almost immediately, however, he was aware of a little glow, like that of a spark, and of a sound of splashing. He was too frightened, too giddy, to collect his thoughts, so as to discover whence the light proceeded, and what produced the noise.
Clinging to the grating, Baudillas gazed stupidly at the light, that grew in brightness, and presently irradiated a face. This he saw, but he was uncertain whether he actually did see, or whether he were a prey to an illusion.
Then the light flashed over him, and his eyes after
Master, are you safe?
Oh, Pedo, how have you come into this
place?
Hush, master. Speak only in a whisper. I
have waded up the sewer (
Pedo! I will give thee thy liberty!
Master! it is I who must first manumit thee.
Then the slave began to file, and as he filed he
muttered, What is liberty to me? At one time,
indeed! Ah, at one time, when I was young, and
so was Blanda! But now I am old and lame. I
am well treated by a good master. Well, well!
Sir! work at the bar where I indicate with my
finger. That is a transversal stanchion and sustains
the others.
Hope of life returned. The heart of Baudillas
Yesterday, nothing could have been done for
you, sir,
said Pedo, for the inundation was so
extensive that the sewer was closed with water that
had risen a foot above the opening into the river.
But, thanks be to God, the flood has fallen. Those
who know the sky declare that we shall have a blast
of the
Pedo,
said the deacon, hadst thou not come,
the rats would have devoured me. They hunted
me as a pack of wolves pursue a deer in the Cebennæ.
I heard them, master, as I came up the sewer.
There are legions of them. But they fear the light,
Pedo,
whispered Baudillas again, after a pause,
whilst both worked at the bar. I know not how it
was that when I stood before the duumvir, I did not
betray my Heavenly Master. I was so frightened.
I was as in a dream. They may have thought me
firm, but I was in reality very weak. Another moment,
or one more turn of the rack and I would
have fallen.
Master! God’s strength is made perfect in weakness.
Yes, it is so. I myself am a poor nothing. Oh,
that I had the manhood of Marcianus!
Press against the bar, master. With a little
force it will yield.
Pedo removed the lamp that he had suspended by a hook from the crossbar. Baudillas threw himself with his full weight against the grating, and the stanchion did actually snap under the impact, at the place where filed.
That is well,
said the slave. Thy side of the
bar is also nearly rasped through. Then we must
saw across this upright staff of iron. To my thinking
it is not fastened below.
It is not. I have thrust my foot between it
and the paving. Methinks it ends in a spike and
barbs.
If it please God that we remove the grating,
then thou must follow me, bending low.
Is the distance great?
Sixty-four paces of thine; of mine, more, as I
do but hobble.
Hah! this is ill-luck.
With the energy of filing, and owing to the loosened condition of the bar, the lamp had been displaced, and it fell from where it had been suspended and was extinguished in the water.
Both were now plunged in darkness as of Erebus, and were moreover exposed to danger from the rats. But perhaps the grating of the files, or the whispers of the one man to the other, alarmed the suspicious beasts, and they did not venture to approach.
Press, master! I will pull,
said the slave. His
voice quivered with excitement.
Baudillas applied his shoulder to the grating, and Pedo jerked at it sharply.
With a crack it yielded; with a plash it fell into the water.
Quick, my master—lay hold of my belt and
Pedo! the jailer said that if alive I was to give
a sign on the morrow. He believes that during the
night I will be devoured by rats, as doubtless have
been others.
Those executed in the prison are cast down
there.
Perhaps,
said Baudillas, if he meet with no
response in the morning he will conclude that I am
dead, and I do not think he will care to descend and
discover whether it be so.
After a short course through the arched passage, both stood upright; they were to their breasts in water, but the water was fresh and pure. Above their heads was the vault of heaven, not now spangled with stars but crossed by scudding drifts of vapor.
Both men scrambled out of the river to the bank, and then Baudillas extended his arms, and said, with face turned to the sky:
I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined
unto me, and heard my calling. He hath brought
me also out of the horrible pit, out of the mire and
clay, and hath set my feet upon the rock. And He
By
Hercules!
said he as he was being lowered into it, your bath
is cold!
S. Ferreolus, of Vienne, was plunged into this horrible
place in A.D. 304. He was young, and by diving or by
working at the grating he managed to escape much in the manner
described above. Thus through the sewer he reached the
Rhône, and swam across it. He was, however, recaptured and
taken back to Vienne, where he was decapitated. He is commemorated
in the diocese of Vienne on September 18th, and is
mentioned by Sidonius Apollinaris in the fifth century, and by
Venantius Fortunatus in the sixth. S. Gregory, the illuminator,
was cast into the Hist. Eccl.,
v. 39).
Perpetua, at Ad Fines, was a prey to unrest. She was in alarm for the safety of her mother, and she was disconcerted at having been smuggled off to the house of a man who was a stranger, though to him she owed her life.
The villa was in a lovely situation, with a wide outstretch of landscape before it to the Rhône, and beyond to the blue and cloudlike spurs of the Alps; and the garden was in the freshness of its first spring beauty. But she was in too great trouble to concern herself about scenery and flowers. Her thoughts turned incessantly to her mother. In the embarrassing situation in which she was—and one that was liable to become far more embarrassing—she needed the support and counsel of her mother.
Far rather would she have been in prison at Nemausus,
awaiting a hearing before the magistrate,
and perhaps condemnation to death, than be as at
present in a charming country house, attended by
obsequious servants, provided with every comfort,
The weather had changed with a suddenness not infrequent in the province. The warm days were succeeded by some of raging wind and icy rains. In fact, the mistral had begun to blow. As the heated air rose from the stony plains, its place was supplied by that which was cold from the snowy surfaces of the Alps, and the downrush was like that to which we nowadays give the term of blizzard. So violent is the blast on these occasions that the tillers of the soil have to hedge round their fields with funereal cypresses, to form a living screen against a wind that was said, or fabled, to have blown the cow out of one pasture into that of another farmer, but which, without fable, was known to upset ricks and carry away the roofs of houses.
To a cloudless sky, traversed by a sun of almost summer brilliancy, succeeded a heaven dark, iron-gray, with whirling vapors that had no contour, and which hung low, trailing their dripping skirts over the shivering landscape.
Trees clashed their boughs. The wood behind
the villa roared like a cataract. In the split ledges
and prongs of limestone, among the box-bushes and
In the fever of her mind, Perpetua neither felt
Blanda was kind and considerate, and had less of
the fawning dog in her manner than was customary
among slaves. It was never possible, even for
masters, to trust the word of their servants; consequently
Perpetua, who knew what slaves were,
placed little reliance on the asseverations of ignorance
that fell from the lips of Blanda. There was,
in the conversation of Blanda, that which the woman
intended to reassure, but which actually heightened
The knowledge that she had been removed to Ad Fines to insure her safety did not satisfy Perpetua; and she was by no means assured that she had thus been carried off with the approbation and knowledge of her mother, or of the bishop and principal Christians of her acquaintance in Nemausus. Of Æmilius Varo she really knew nothing save that he was a man of pleasure and a lawyer.
Adjoining the house was a conservatory. Citron trees and oleanders in large green-painted boxes were employed in summer to decorate the terrace and gardens. They were allowed to be out in mild winters, but directly the mistral began to howl, the men-servants of the house had hurriedly conveyed them within doors into the conservatory, as the gale would strip them of their fruit, bruise the leaves and injure the flowers.
In her trouble of mind, unable to go abroad in
the bitter weather, impatient of quiet, Perpetua
As she thus paced, she heard a stir in the house,
the opening of doors, the rush of wind driving
through it, the banging of valves and rattle of shutters.
Then she heard voices, and among them one
that was imperious. A moment later, Blanda ran to
Perpetua, and after making a low obeisance said:
The master is come. He desires permission to
speak with you, lady, when he hath had his bath
and hath assumed a change of raiment. For by the
mother goddesses, no one can be many moments
without and not be drenched to the bone. And this
exhibits the master’s regard for thee, lady; his extreme
devotion to your person and regard for your
comfort, that he has exposed himself to cold and
rain and wind so as to come hither to inquire if you
are well, and if there be aught you desire that he
can perform to content you.
What was Perpetua to do? She plucked some
citron blossoms in her nervous agitation, unknowing
what she did, then answered timidly: I am in the
house of the noble Æmilius. Let him speak with
me here when it suits his convenience. Yet stay,
The slave hasted away, and returned directly to inform Perpetua that her master was grieved to relate that he was unable to give her the desired information, but that he only awaited instructions from Perpetua to take measures to satisfy her.
Then the girl was left alone, and in greater agitation than before. She walked among the evergreens, putting the citron flowers to her nose, plucking off the leaves, pressing her hand to her brow, and wiping her distilling eyes.
The conservatory was unglazed. It was furnished with shutters in which were small openings like those in fiddles. Consequently a twilight reigned in the place; what light entered was colorless, and without brilliancy. Through the openings could be seen the whirling vapors; through them also the rain spluttered in, and the wind sighed a plaintive strain, now and then rising to a scream.
Perpetua still held the little bunch of citron in her hand; she was as unaware that she held it as that she had plucked it. Her mind was otherwise engaged, and her nervous fingers must needs clasp something.
As she thus walked, fearing the appearance of
Æmilius, and yet desirous of having a term put to
her suspense, she heard steps, and in another
moment the young lawyer stood before her. He
bowed with hands extended, and with courtly consideration
would not draw near. Aware that she
was shy or frightened, he said: I have to ask your
pardon, young lady, for this intrusion on your privacy,
above all for your abduction to this house of
mine. It was done without my having been consulted,
but was done with good intent, by a friend,
to place you out of danger. I had no part in the
matter; nevertheless I rejoice that my house has had
the honor of serving you as a refuge from such as
seek your destruction.
I thank you,
answered the girl constrainedly.
I owe you a word of acknowledgment of my lively
gratitude for having rescued me from the fountain,
and another for affording me shelter here. But if I
may be allowed to ask a favor, it is that my mother
be restored to me, or me to my mother.
Alas, lady,
said Æmilius, I have no knowledge
where she is. I myself have been in concealment—for
the rabble has been incensed against me
for what I was privileged to do, at the Nemausean
My mother was in the first litter.
That litter did not pass out of the gates of Nemausus.
Callipodius was concerned for your safety,
as he knew that it was you who were menaced and
not your mother.
But it is painful for me to be away from my
mother.
Lady! you are safer separated from her. If she
I concern myself little about my life,
said Perpetua.
But, to be alone here, away from her, from
every relation, in a strange house——
I know what you would say, or rather what you
feel and do not like to say. I have a proposal to
make to you which will relieve your difficulty if it
commends itself to you. It will secure your union
with your mother, and prevent anything being
spoken as to your having been concealed here that
may offend your honorable feelings.
Perpetua said nothing. She plucked at the petals of the citron flower and strewed them on the marble pavement.
You have been brought to this house, and happily
none know that you are here, save my client,
Callipodius, and myself. But what I desire to say is
this. Give me a right to make this your refuge,
and me a right to protect you. If I be not distasteful
to you, permit this. I place myself unreservedly
in your hands. I love you, but my respect for
The tears welled into Perpetua’s eyes. She looked at the young man, who stood before her with such dignity and gentleness of demeanor. He seemed to her to be as noble, as good as a heathen well could be. He felt for her delicate position; he had risked his life and fortunes to save her. He had roused the powerful religious faction of his native city against him, and he was now extending his protection over her against the priesthood and the mob of Nemausus.
I know,
pursued Æmilius, that I am not
worthy of one such as yourself. I offer myself because
I see no other certain means of making you
secure, save by your suffering me to be your legitimate
defender. If your mother will consent, and I
am so happy as to have yours, then we will hurry
on the rites which shall make us one, and not a
tongue can stir against you and not a hand be lifted
to pluck you from my side.
Perpetua dropped the flower, now petalless. She
I am confident that I can appease the excitement
among the people and the priests, and those
attached to the worship of the divine ancestor.
They will not dare to push matters to extremities.
The sacrifice has been illegal all along, but winked
at by the magistrates because a custom handed down
with the sanction of antiquity. But a resolute protest
made—if need be an appeal to Cæsar—and the
priesthood are paralyzed. Consider also that as my
wife they could no longer demand you. Their hold
on you would be done for, as none but an unmarried
maid may be sacrificed. The very utmost they can
require in their anger and disappointment will be
that you should publicly sprinkle a few grains of
incense on the altar of Nemausus.
I cannot do that. I am a Christian.
Believe what you will. Laugh at the gods as
do I and many another. A few crumbs of frankincense,
a little puff of smoke that is soon sped.
It may not be.
Remain a Christian, adhere to its philosophy
or revelation, as Castor calls it. Attend its orgies,
and be the protectress of your fellow-believers.
None the less, I cannot do it.
But why not?
I cannot be false to Christ.
What falsehood is there in this?
It is a denial of Him.
Bah! He died two hundred years ago.
He lives, He is ever present, He sees and knows
all.
Well, then He will not look harshly on a girl
who acts thus to save her life.
I should be false to myself as well as to Him.
I cannot understand this——
No, because you do not know and love Him.
Love Him!
echoed Æmilius, He is dead.
You never saw Him at any time. It is impossible
for any one to love one invisible, unseen, a mere
historical character. See, we have all over Gallia
Narbonensis thousands of Augustals; they form a
sect, if you will. All their worship is of Augustus
Cæsar, who died before your Christ. Do you suppose
that one among those thousands loves him
whom they worship, and after whom they are
named, and who is their bond of connection? No—it
is impossible. It cannot be.
But with us, to know is to love. Christ is the
Riddles, riddles!
said Æmilius, shaking his
head.
It is a riddle that may be solved to you some
day. I would give my life that it were.
You would?
Aye, and with joy. You risked your life for
me. I would give mine to win for you——
What?
Faith. Having that you would know how to
love.
When the deacon Baudillas and his faithful Pedo emerged from the river, and stood on the bank, they were aware how icy was the blast that blew, for it pierced their sodden garments and froze the marrow in their bones.
Master,
said Pedo, this is the beginning of a
storm that will last for a week; you must get under
shelter, and I will give you certain garments I have
provided and have concealed hard by in a kiln.
The gates of the town are shut. I have no need to
inform you that we are without the city walls.
Pedo guided the deacon to the place where he had hidden a bundle of garments, and which was not a bowshot distant from the mouth of the sewer. The kiln was small; it had happily been in recent use, for it was still warm, and the radiation was grateful to Baudillas, whose teeth were chattering in his head.
I have put here bread and meat, and a small skin
of wine,
said the slave. I advise you, master, to
I would desire, were it advisable, to revisit my
own house,
said the deacon doubtfully.
And I would advise you to keep clear of it,
said the slave. Should the jailer discover that
you have escaped, then at once search will be made
for you, and, to a certainty it will begin at your
habitation.
Then, with a dry laugh, he added,
And if it be found that I have assisted in your
evasion, then there will be one more likely to give
sport to the people at the forthcoming show. Grant
me the wild beasts and not the cross.
I will not bring thee into danger, faithful
friend.
I cannot run away on my lame legs,
said Pedo.
Ah! as to those shows. They are to wind up with
a water-fight—such is the announcement. There
will be gladiators from Arelate sent over to contend
in boats against a fleet of our Nemausean ruffians.
On the previous day there will be sport with wild
You speak of these scenes with relish.
Ah! master, before I was regenerate I dearly
loved the spectacles. But the contest with bulls!
That discovers the agility of a man. Falerius
Ah, Pedo! please God that none of the brethren
be exposed to the beasts.
I think there will not be many. The Quatuor-viri
are slow to condemn, and Petronius Atacinus
most unwilling of all. There are real criminals
in the prison sufficient to satisfy an ordinary appetite
for blood. But, see! we are discussing the amphitheater
and not considering whither thou wilt betake
thyself.
I have been turning the matter over, and I
think that I will go first to Marcianus, my brother-deacon,
and report myself to be alive and free, that
he may inform the bishop; and I will take his advice
He has remained unmolested,
said the slave,
and that is to me passing strange, for I have been
told that certain of the brethren, when questioned
relative to the mutilation of the statue, have accused
him by name. Yet, so far, nothing has been done.
Yet I think his house is watched; I have noticed one
Burrhus hanging about it; and Tarsius, they say,
has turned informer. See, master! the darkness is
passing away; already there is a wan light in the
east.
Had the mouth of the kiln been turned to the
setting in place of the rising sun, we should not have
felt the wind so greatly. Well, Pedo, we will be on
the move. Market people from the country will be
at the gates. I will consult with Marcianus before
I do aught.
An hour later, Baudillas and his attendant were at
the gate of Augustus, and passed in unchallenged.
Owing to the furious mistral, accompanied by driving
rain, the guards muffled themselves in their
cloaks and paid little attention to the peasants bringing
in their poultry, fish and vegetables for sale.
The deacon and his slave entered unnoticed along
Some looking on laughed and asked, shouting, whether the gods did not blow as strong blasts out of their lungs every year about the same time, and whether they did so because annually insulted.
But they don’t break my crocks,
stormed the
potter.
Charge double for what remain unfractured,
joked an onlooker.
Come, master,
said Pedo, plucking Baudillas
by the sleeve. If that angry fellow recognize
you, you are lost. Hold my cloak and turn down
the lane, then we are at the
Near by was a shop for flowers. Over the shop
front was the inscription, Non vendo nisi amantibus
coronas
(I sell garlands to lovers only
).
Come, master, we shall be recognized,
said
Pedo.
In another moment they had passed out of the huffle of the wind and the drift of the rain into the shelter and warmth of a dwelling.
Pedo bade a slave go to Marcianus and tell the deacon that someone below desired a word with him. Almost immediately the man returned with orders to conduct the visitor to the presence of the master.
Baudillas was led along a narrow passage into a chamber in the inner part of the house, away from the apartments for the reception of guests.
The room was warmed. It was small, and had a
glazed window; that is to say, the opening was closed
In this chamber, seated on an easy couch, with a roll in his hand, which he was studying, was Marcianus. His countenance was hard and haughty.
You!
he exclaimed, starting with surprise.
What brings you here? I heard that you had
been before the magistrate and had confessed. But,
bah! of such as you martyrs are not made. You
have betrayed us and got off clear yourself.
You mistake, brother,
answered Baudillas,
modestly. In one thing are you right—I am not
of the stuff out of which martyrs and confessors
are fashioned. But I betrayed no one. Not that
there is any merit due to me for that. I was in such
a dire and paralyzing fright that I could not speak.
How then come you here?
As we read that the Lord sent His angel to
deliver Peter from prison, so has it been with me.
You lie!
said Marcianus angrily. No miracle
was wrought for you—for such as you who shiver
and quake and lose power of speech! Bah! Come,
give me a more rational explanation of your escape.
My slave was the angel who delivered me.
So you ran away! Could not endure
martyr
I know that surely enough,
said Baudillas; I
am of timorous stuff, and from childhood feared
pain. But I have not denied Christ.
What has brought you here?
asked Marcianus
curtly.
I have come to thee for counsel.
The counsel I give thou wilt not take. What
saith the Scripture:
He that putteth his hand to
the plough and turneth back is not fit for the kingdom
of God.
Thou wast called to a glorious confession,
and looked back and ran away.
And thy counsel?
Return and surrender, and win the crown and
palm. But it is waste of breath to say such words
to thee. I know thee. Wast thou subjected to
torture?
No, brother.
No; not the rack, nor the torches, nor the hooks,
nor the thumbscrews. Oh, none of these!
No, brother. It is true, I was scarce tried at
Well; go thy ways. I cannot advise thee.
Stay,
said Baudillas. I saw in the outer
prison some of the faithful, but was in too great fear
to recognize any. Who have been taken?
The last secured has been the widow Quincta.
The pontiff and the
Indeed, Marcianus, I know not. But tell me:
hast thou not been inquired for? I have been told
how that some have accused thee.
Me! Who said that?
Marcianus started, and his face worked. Bah!
they dare not touch me. I belong to the Falerii;
we have had magistrates in our family, and one
clothed with the pro-consulship. They will not
venture to lay hands on me.
But what if they know, and it is known through
They do not know it.
Nay, thou deceivest thyself. It is known.
Some of those who were at the Agape have spoken.
It was thou—dog that thou art!
Nay, it was not I.
Marcianus rose and strode up and down the room,
biting his nails. Then, contemptuously, he said:
My family will stand between me and mob or
magistrate. I fear not. But get thee gone. Thou
compromisest me by thy presence, thou runagate
and jail-breaker.
I came here but to notify my escape and to ask
counsel of thee.
Get thee gone. Fly out of Nemausus, or thy
chattering tongue will be set going and reveal everything
that ought to be kept secret.
Then taking
a turn he added to himself, I belong to the Falerii.
Baudillas left; and, as he went from the door,
Pedo whispered in his ear: Let us escape to Ad
Fines. We can do so in this detestable weather.
I have an old friend there, named Blanda. In my
youth I loved—ah! welladay! that was long ago—and
we were the chattels of different masters, so it
He suddenly checked himself, plucked the deacon back, and drew him against the wall.
An ædile, attended by a body of the city police, armed like soldiers, advanced and silently surrounded the house of Marcianus.
Then the officer struck the door thrice, and called:
By the authority of Petronius Atacinus and Vibius
Fuscianus, Quatuor-viri juridicundo, and in the
name of the Imperator Cæsar Augustus, Marcus
Aurelius Antoninus, I arrest Cneius Falerius Marcianus,
on the atrocious charge of sacrilege.
The Quatuorvir Petronius Atacinus, who was on duty, occupied his chair in the stately Plotinian Basilica, or court of justice, that had been erected by Hadrian, in honor of the lady to whose ingenious and unscrupulous maneuvers he owed his elevation to the throne of the Cæsars. Of this magnificent structure nothing remains at present save some scraps of the frieze in the museum.
When the weather permitted, Petronius or his
colleagues liked to hear a case in the open air, from
a tribune in the forum. But this was impossible
to-day, in the howling wind and lashing rain. The
court itself was comparatively deserted. A very few
had assembled to hear the trials. None who had a
warmed home that day left it uncalled for. Some
market women set their baskets in the doorway and
stepped inside, but it was rather because they were
wet and out of breath than because they were interested
in the proceedings. Beside the magistrate sat
the chief
Throughout the south of Gaul the worship of Augustus had become predominant, and had displaced most of the ancestral cults. The temples dedicated to Augustus exceeded in richness all others, and were crowded when the rest were deserted.
Jupiter was only not forgotten because he had
borrowed some of the attributes of the Gallic solar
deity, and he flourished the golden wheel in one
hand and brandished the lightnings in the other.
Juno had lent her name to a whole series of familiar
spirits of the mountains and of the household, closely
allied to the
Have that door shut!
called the magistrate.
It bangs in this evil wind, and I cannot even hear
what my excellent friend Lucius Smerius is saying
in my ear; how then can I catch what is said in
court?
Then, turning to the pontiff, he said: I
detest this weather. Last year, about this time, I
was struck with an evil blast, and lost all sense of
smell and taste for nine months. I had pains in
It was the work of enchantment,
said the pontiff.
These Christians, in their orgies, stick pins
into images to produce pains in those the figures
represent.
How do you know this? Have you been initiated
into their mysteries?
I——! The Immortals preserve me therefrom.
Then, by Pluto, you speak what you have heard
of the gossips—old wives’ babble. I will tell you
what my opinion is, Smerius. If you were to thrust
your nose into the mysteries of the Bona Dea you
would find—what? No more than did Clodius—nothing
at all. My wife, she attends them, and
comes home with her noddle full of all the tittle-tattle
of Nemausus. It is so with the Christian
These men are not like others; they are unsociable,
brutish, arrogant.
Unsociable I allow. Brutish! The word is inapt;
for, on the contrary, I find them very simple,
soft-headed, pulp-hearted folk. They abstain from
all that is boisterous and cruel. Arrogant they may
be. There I am at one with you.
Live and let
live
is my maxim. We have a score of gods, home
made and foreign, and they all rub and tumble
together without squabbling. Of late we have had
Madame Isis over from Egypt, and the White
Ladies,
Here come the prisoners. My good friend, do
not be too easy with them. It will not do. The
temper of the people is up. The sodality of Augustus
swear that they will not decree you a statue, and
will oppose your nomination to the knighthood.
They have joined hands with the Cultores Nemausi,
and insist that proper retribution be administered to
the transgressors, and that the girl be surrendered.
It shall be done; it shall be so,
said the Quatuorvir.
Then, raising his hand to his mouth, and speaking
behind it—not that in the roar of the wind such
a precaution was necessary—he said to the pontiff:
My dear man, a magistrate has other matters to
consider than pleasing the clubs. There is the
prince over all, and he is on the way to Narbonese
Gaul. It is whispered that he is favorably disposed
towards this Nazarene sect.
The Augustus would not desire to have the laws
set at naught, and the sodalities are rich enough to
pay to get access to him and make their complaint.
Well, well, well! I cannot please all. I have to
steer my course among shoals and rocks. Keep the
The mother of Perpetua was led forward in a condition of terror that rendered her almost unconscious, and unable to sustain herself.
Quincta,
said the magistrate, have no fear for
yourself. I have no desire to deal sharply with you;
if you will inform us where is your daughter, you
shall be dismissed forthwith.
I do not know——
The poor woman could
say no more.
Give her a seat,
ordered Petronius. Then to
the prisoner: Compose yourself. No doubt that,
as a mother, you desire to screen your daughter, supposing
that her life is menaced. No such thing,
madame. I have spoken with the priestess, and with
He bowed
to the priest at his side. I am assured that the
god, when he spoke, made no demand for a sacrifice.
That is commuted. All he desires is that the young
virgin should pass into his service, and be numbered
among his priestesses.
She will not consent,
gasped Quincta.
I hardly need to point out the honor and advantage
offered her. The priestesses enjoy great favor
with the people, have seats of honor at the theater,
take a high position in all public ceremonies, and are
maintained by rich endowments.
She will never consent,
repeated the mother.
Of that we shall judge for ourselves. Where
is the girl?
I do not know.
How so?
She has been carried away from me; I know
not whither.
When the old ewe baas the lamb will bleat,
said the Quatuorvir. We shall find the means to
make you produce her. Lady Quincta, my duty
compels me to send you back to prison. You shall
be allowed two days’ respite. Unless, by the end of
I cannot tell what I do not know.
Remove the woman.
The magistrate leaned back, and turning his head
to the pontiff, said: Did not your worthy father,
Spurius, die of a surfeit of octopus? I had a supper
off the legs last night, and they made me sleep badly;
they are no better than marine leather.
Then to
the Bring forward Falerius Marcianus.
The deacon was conducted before the magistrate. He was pale, and his lips ashen and compressed. His dark eyes turned in every direction. He was looking for kinsmen and patron.
You are charged, Falerius, with having broken
the image of the god whom Nemausus delights to
honor, and who is the reputed founder of the city.
You conveyed his head to the house of Baudillas,
and several witnesses have deposed that you made
boast that you had committed the sacrilegious act
of defacing the statue. What answer make you to
this?
Marcianus replied in a low voice.
Speak up,
said the magistrate; I cannot hear
thee, the wind blusters and bellows so loud.
Aside
to the pontiff Smerius he added: And ever since
that evil blast you wot of, I have suffered from a
singing in my ears.
I did it,
said the deacon. Again he looked
about him, but saw none to support him.
Then,
said the magistrate, we shall at once
conclude this matter. The outrage is too gross to
be condoned or lightly punished. Even thy friends
and kinsfolk have not appeared to speak for thee.
Thy family has been one of dignity and authority
in Nemausus. There have been members who have
been clothed with the Quatuorvirate
The deacon made an attempt to speak. He seemed overwhelmed with astonishment and dismay at the sentence, so utterly unexpected in its severity. He gesticulated and cried out, but the Quatuorvir was cold and weary. He had pronounced a sentence that would startle all the town, and he thought he had done enough.
Remove him at once,
said he.
Then Petronius turned to the pontiff and said:
Now, my Smerius, what say you to this? Will not
this content you and all the noisy rag-tag at your
back?
Next he commanded the rest of the prisoners to be brought forward together. This was a mixed number of poor persons, some women, some old men, boys, slaves and freedmen; none belonged to the upper class or even to that of the manufacturers and tradesmen.
You are all dismissed,
said the magistrate.
The imprisonment you have undergone will serve
as a warning to you not to associate with image-breakers,
not to enter into sodalities which have not
received the sanction of Cæsar, and which are not
compatible with the well-being and quiet of the city
and are an element of disturbance in the empire. Let
Then the lictors gathered around the Quatuorvir and the pontiff, who also rose, and extended his hand to assist the magistrate, who made wry faces as rheumatic twinges nipped his back.
Come with me, Smerius,
said the Quatuorvir,
I have done the best for you that lay in my power.
I hate unnecessary harshness. But this fellow,
Falerius Marcianus, has deserved the worst. If the
old woman be put on the rack and squeak out, and
Marcianus be devoured by beasts, the people will
have their amusement, and none can say that I have
acted with excessive rigor—and, my dear man—not
a word has been said about Christianity. The
cases have been tried on other counts, do you see?
he winked. Will you breakfast with me? There
are mullets from the Satera, stewed in white wine—confound
those octopi!—I feel them still.
Blanda, what shall I do?
Æmilius had withdrawn immediately after the interview in the citron-house, and Perpetua was left a prey to even greater distress of mind than before.
Accustomed to lean on her mother, she was now without support. She drew towards the female slave, who had a patient, gentle face, marked with suffering.
Blanda, what shall I do?
Mistress, how can I advise? If you had been
graciously pleased to take counsel of my master, he
would have instructed you.
Alack! what I desire is to find my mother. If,
as I suppose, she is in concealment in Nemausus,
he will be unable to discover her. No clue will be
put into his hand. He will be regarded with suspicion.
He will search; I do not doubt his good
will, but he will not find. Those who know where
my mother is will look on him with suspicion. O
Lady,
answered the slave, there be no Christians
here. There is a Jew, but he entertains a deadly
hate of such as profess to belong to this sect. To the
rest one religion is as indifferent as another. Some
swear by the White Ladies, some by Serapis, and
there is one who talks much of Mithras, but who
this god is I know not.
If I am to obtain information it must be through
some one who is to be trusted.
Lady,
said the woman-slave, the master has
given strict orders that none shall speak of you as
having found a shelter here. Yet when slaves get
together, by the Juno of the oaks, I believe men
chatter and are greater magpies than we women;
their tongues run away with them, especially when
they taste wine. If one of the family were sent
on this commission into the town, ten
I cannot rest till I have news.
There has been a great search made after
But, Blanda, she is in an agony of mind as to
what has become of me.
The slave-woman considered for awhile, and then said:
There is a man who might help; he certainly
can be relied on. He is of the strange sect I know,
and he would do anything for me, and would betray
no secrets.
Who is that?
His name is Pedo, and he is the slave to Baudillas
Macer, son of Carisius Adgonna, who has a
house in the lower town.
O Blanda!
exclaimed Perpetua, it was from
the house of Baudillas that I was enticed away.
Then, after some hesitation, she added: That
house, I believe, was invaded by the mob; but I
think my mother had first escaped.
Lady, I have heard that Baudillas has been
taken before the magistrate, and has been cast into
the
I cannot require thee to go forth in this furious
wind,
said Perpetua.
And, lady, thou must answer to my master for
me. Say that I went at thine express commands;
otherwise I shall be badly beaten.
Is thy master so harsh?
Oh, I am a slave. Who thinks of a slave any
more than of an ass or a lapdog? It was through a
severe scourging with the cat that I was brought to
know Pedo.
Tell me, how was that?
Does my lady care for matters that affect her
slave?
Nay, good Blanda, we Christians know no
differ
That is just how Pedo talks. We slaves have
our notions of freedom and equality, and there is
much tall talk in the servants’ hall on the rights of
man. But I never heard of a master or mistress
holding such opinions.
Nevertheless this doctrine is a principle of our
religion. Listen to this; the words are those of one
of our great teachers:
There is neither Jew nor
Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is
neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ
Jesus.
Was he a slave who said that?
No; he was a Roman citizen.
That I cannot understand. Yet perhaps he
spoke it at an election time, or when he was an
advocate in the forum. It was a sentiment; very
fine, smartly put, but not to be practiced.
There, Blanda, you are wrong. We Christians
do act upon this principle, and it forms a bond of
union between us.
Well, I understand it not. I have heard the
slaves declaim among themselves, saying that they
were as good as, nay, better than, their masters; but
they never whispered such a thought where were
their masters’ ears, or they would have been soundly
whipped. In the forum, when lawyers harangue,
they say fine things of this sort; and when candidates
are standing for election, either as a sevir or
as a quatuorvir, all sorts of fine words fly about, and
magnificent promises are made, but they are intended
only to tickle ears and secure votes. None
believe in them save the vastly ignorant and the
very fools.
Come, tell me about thyself and Pedo.
Ah, lady, that was many years ago. I was then
in the household of Helvia Secundilla, wife of Calvius
Naso. On one occasion, because I had not
brought her May-dew wherewith to bathe her face
to remove sun-spots, she had me cruelly beaten.
There were knucklebones knotted in the cat wherewith
I was beaten. Thirty-nine lashes I received.
I could not collect May-dew, for the sky was overcast
and the herb was dry. But she regarded not
my excuse. Tullia, my fellow-slave, was more sly.
She filled a flask at a spring and pretended that she
Poor Blanda!
Aye, my back was one bleeding wound, and yet
I was compelled to put on my garment and go forth
again after May-dew. It was then that I encountered
Pedo. I was in such pain that I walked sobbing,
and my tears fell on the arid grass. He came
to me, moved by compassion, and spoke kindly, and
my heart opened, and I told him all. Then he gave
me a flask filled with a water in which elder flowers
had been steeped, and bade me wash my back therewith.
And it healed thee?
It soothed the fever of my blood and the anguish
of my wounds. They closed, and in a few days
were cicatriced. But Pedo had been fellow-slave
with a Jewish physician, and from him had learned
the use of simples. My mistress found no advantage
from the spring-water brought her as May-dew.
Then I offered her some of the decoction given me
by Pedo, and that had a marvelous effect on her
freckles. Afterwards her treatment of me was
And did you see more of Pedo?
Blanda colored.
Mistress, that was the beginning of our acquaintance.
He was with a good master, Baudillas Macer,
who, he said, would manumit him at any time. But,
alas! what would that avail me? I remained in
bondage. Ah, lady, Pedo regarded me with tenderness,
and, indeed, I could have been happy with
none other but him.
He is old and lame.
Ah, lady, I think the way he moves on his lame
hip quite beautiful. I do not admire legs when one
is of the same length as another—it gives a stiff
uniformity not to my taste.
And he is old?
Ripe, lady—full ripe as a fig in August. Sour
fruit are unpleasant to eat. Young men are prigs
and think too much of themselves.
How long ago was it that this acquaintance
began?
Five and twenty years. I trusted, when my
master, Calvius Naso—he was so called because he
really had a long nose, and my mistress was wont to
Then, for all these five and twenty years you
have cared for Pedo and desired to be united to
him!
Yes, I longed for it greatly for twenty years,
and so did he, poor fellow; but, after that, hope died.
I have now no hope, no joy in life, no expectation of
aught. Presently will come death, and death ends
all.
No, Blanda; that is not what we hold. We look
for eternal life.
For masters, not for slaves.
For slaves as well as masters, and then God will
wipe away all tears from our eyes.
Alack, mistress. The power to hope is gone
from me. In a wet season, when there is little sun,
then the fruit mildews on the tree and drops off.
When we were young we put forth the young fruit
of hopes; but there has been no sun. They fall off,
and the tree can bear no more.
Blanda, if ever I have the power——
Oh, mistress, with my master you can do anything.
Blanda, I do not know that I can ask him for
this—thy freedom. But, if the opportunity offers,
I certainly will not forget thee.
A slave appeared at the door and signed to Blanda, who, with an obeisance, asked leave to depart. The leave was given, and she left the room.
Presently she returned in great excitement, followed by Baudillas and Pedo, both drenched with rain and battered by the gale.
Perpetua uttered an exclamation of delight, and rushed to the deacon with extended arms.
I pray, I pray, give me some news of my
mother.
But he drew back likewise surprised, and replied with another question:
The Lady Perpetua! And how come you to
be here?
That I will tell later,
answered the girl. Now
inform me as to my mother.
Alas!
replied Baudillas, wiping the rain from
his face, the news is sad. She has been taken
before Petronius, and has been consigned to prison.
My mother is in prison!
The deacon desired to say no more, but he was awkward at disguising his unwillingness to speak the whole truth. The eager eyes of the girl read the hesitation in his face.
I beseech you,
she urged, conceal nothing
from me.
I have told you, she is in jail.
On what charge? Who has informed against
her?
I was not in the court when she was tried. I
know very little. I was near the town, waiting
about, and I got scraps of information from some of
our people, and from Pedo, who went into the city.
Then you do know. Answer me truly. Tell
me all.
I—I was in prison myself, but escaped through
the aid of Pedo. I tarried in an old kiln. He advised
that I should come on here, where he had
friends. Dost thou know that Marcianus has been
sentenced? He will win that glorious crown which
I have lost. I—I, unworthy, I fled, when it might
have been mine. Yet, God forgive me! I am not
ungrateful to Pedo. Marcianus said I was a coward,
and unfit for the Kingdom of God; that I should be
excluded because I had turned back. God forgive
me!
Suddenly Perpetua laid hold of Baudillas by both arms, and so gripped him that the water oozed between her fingers and dropped on the floor.
I adjure thee, by Him in whom we both believe,
answer me truly, speak fully. Is my mother retained
in prison till I am found?
The deacon looked down nervously, uncomfortably, and shuffled from foot to foot.
Understand,
said he, after a long silence, all
I learned is by hearsay. I really know nothing for
certain.
I suffer more by your silence than were I to be
told the truth, be the truth never so painful.
Have I not said it? The Lady Quincta is in
prison.
Is that all?
Again he maintained an embarrassed silence.
It matters not,
said Perpetua firmly. I will
my own self find out what has taken place. I shall
return to Nemausus on foot, and immediately. I
will deliver myself up to the magistrate and demand
my mother’s release.
You must not go—the weather is terrible.
I shall—nothing can stay me. I shall go, and
go alone, and go at once.
There is no need for such haste. It is not
till to-morrow that Quincta will be put on the
rack.
On the rack!
Fool that I am! I have uttered what I should
have kept secret.
It is said. My resolve is formed. I return to
Nemausus.
Then,
said the deacon, I will go with thee.
There is no need. I will take Blanda.
I will go. A girl, a young girl shames me. I
run away from death, and she offers herself to the
sword. Marcianus said I was a renegade. I will
Then,
said Perpetua, I pray thee this—first
give freedom unto Pedo.
Baudillas administered a slight stroke on the cheek to his slave, and said:
Go; thou art discharged from bondage.
The games that were to be given in the amphitheater of Nemausus on the nones of March were due to a bequest of Domitius Afer, the celebrated, or rather infamous, informer and rhetorician, who had brought so many citizens of Rome to death during the principate of Tiberius. He had run great risk himself under Caligula, but had escaped by a piece of adroit flattery. In dying he bequeathed a large sum out of his ill-gotten gains—the plunder of those whom he had destroyed, and whose families he had ruined—to be expended in games in the amphitheater on the nones of March, for the delectation of the citizens, and to keep his memory green in his native city.
The games were to last two days. On the first there would be contests with beasts, and on the second a water combat, when the arena would be flooded and converted into a lake.
Great anxiety was entertained relative to the
The town was in the liveliest excitement. The
man guilty of having mutilated the statue had been
sentenced to be cast to the beasts, and this man was
no vulgar criminal out of the slums, but belonged to
one of the superior orders.
That a great social change had taken place in the
province, and that the freedmen had stepped into
power and influence, to the displacement of their
former masters, was felt by the descendants of the
first Ægypto-Greek colonists, and by the relics of
the Gaulish nobility, but they hardly endured to
admit the fact in words. The exercise of the rights
of citizenship, the election of the officials, the qualification
for filling the superior secular and religious
offices, belonged to the decurion or noble families.
Almost the sole office open to those below was that
of the seviri; and yet even in elections the
freed
Now, one of the old municipal families was to be humbled by a member being subjected to the degradation of death in the arena, and none of the Falerii ventured to raise a voice in his defence, so critical did they perceive the situation to be. The sodality of the Augustals in conclave had determined that an example was to be made of Marcianus, and had made this plain to the magistrates. They had even insisted on the manner of his execution. His death would be a plain announcement to the decurion class that its domination was at an end. The ancient patrician and plebeian families of Rome had been extinguished in blood, and their places filled by a new nobility of army factors and money-lenders. A similar revolution had taken place in the provinces by less bloody means. There, the transfer of power was due largely to the favor of the prince accorded to the freedmen.
In the Augustal colleges everywhere, the Cæsar
had a body of devoted adherents, men without
nationality, with no historic position, no traditions
of past independence; men, moreover, who were
shrewd enough to see that by combination they
The rumor spread rapidly that a fresh entertainment was to be provided. The damsel who had been rescued from the basin of Nemausus had surrendered herself in order to obtain the release of her mother; and the magistrate in office, Petronius Atacinus, out of consideration for the good people of the town, whom he loved, and out of reverence for the gods who had been slighted, had determined that she should be produced in the arena, and there obliged publicly to sacrifice, and then to be received into the priesthood. Should she, however, prove obdurate, then she would be tortured into compliance.
Nor was this all. Baudillas Macer, the last scion
of a decayed Volcian family, who had been cast into
the pit of the
To the general satisfaction, the wind fell as suddenly
as it had risen, and that on the night preceding
The townsfolk, and the spectators from the country, came provided against the intemperance of the weather, wrapped in their warmest mantles, which they drew as hoods over their heads. Slaves arrived, carrying boxes with perforated tops, that contained glowing charcoal, so that their masters and mistresses might keep their feet warm whilst attending the games. Some carried cushions for the seats, others wolf-skin rugs to throw over the knees of the well-to-do spectators.
The ranges of the great oval were for the most
part packed with spectators. The topmost seats were
full long before the rest. The stone benches were
divided into tiers. At the bottom, near the Forty seats decreed to the navigators of the Rhône
and Saone;
at another part of the circumference,
Twenty-five places appointed to the navigators of
the Ardèche and the Ouvèze.
Above the ranges of seats set apart for the officials
and guests were those belonging to the decurions and
knights, the nobility and gentry of the town and
little republic. The third range was that allotted to
the freedmen and common townsfolk and peasants
from the country, and the topmost stage was abandoned
to be occupied by slaves alone. At one end
of the ellipse sat the principal magistrates close to
the
Two doors, one at each end, gave access to the
arena, or means of exit. One was that of the
Immediately below the seat of the principal
magistrates and of the pontiffs was a little altar, on
It was remarked that the attendance in the reserved seats of the decurions was meager. Such as were connected with the Falerian family by blood or marriage made it a point to absent themselves; others stayed away because huffed at the insolence of the freedmen, and considering that the sentence passed on Marcianus was a slight cast on their order.
On the other hand, the freedmen crowded to the show in full force, and not having room to accommodate themselves and their families in the zone allotted to them, some audaciously threw themselves over the barriers of demarcation and were followed by others, and speedily flooded the benches of the decurions.
When the magistrates arrived, preceded by their
lictors, all in the amphitheater rose, and the
Quatuor-viri bowed to the public. Each took a pinch
from the priest, who extended a silver shell containing
aromatic gums, and cast it on the fire, some
gravely, Petronius with a flippant gesture. Then
To the god Augustus and the divine Julia (Livia),
and he threw some more grains on the charcoal.
Body of Bacchus!
said he, as he took his seat,
a little fizzling spark such as that may please the
gods, but does not content me. I wish I had a roaring
fire at which, like a babe out of its bath, I could
spread my ten toes and as many fingers. Such a day
as this is! With cold weather I cannot digest my
food properly. I feel a lump in me as did Saturn
when his good Rhea gave him a meal of stones. I
am full of twinges. By Vulcan and his bellows!
if it had not been for duty I would have been at
home adoring the Lares and Penates. These shows
are for the young and warm-blooded. The arms of
my chair send a chill into my marrow-bones. What
comes first? Oh! a contest with a bull. Well, I
shall curl up and doze like a marmot. Wake me,
good Smerius, when the next portion of the entertainment
begins.
A bull was introduced, and a gladiator was employed
to exasperate and play with the beast. He
waved a garment before its eyes, then drove a sharp
instrument into its flank, and when the beast
turned, he nimbly leaped out of the way. When
The people cheered, but they had seen the performance so often repeated that they speedily tired of such poor sport. The bull was accordingly dispatched. Horses were introduced and hooked to the carcass, which was rapidly drawn out. Then entered attendants of the amphitheater, who strewed sand where the blood had been spilt, bowed and retired.
Thereupon the jailer threw open the gates of the
A thrill of cruel delight ran through the concourse of spectators. Now something was about to be shown them, harrowing to the feelings, gratifying to the ferocity that is natural to all men, and is expelled, not at all by civilization, but by divine grace only.
It enhanced the pleasure of the spectators that
criminals should witness the death of their fellows.
Eyes scanned their features, observed whether they
turned sick and faint, whether they winced, or
A bear was produced. Dogs were set on him, and he was worried till he shook off his torpor and was worked into fury. Then, at a sign from the manager of the games, the dogs were called off, and the man who had murdered his guests was driven forward towards the incensed beast.
The fellow was sullen, and gave no token of fear.
He folded his arms, leaned against the marble
The bear, relieved from his aggressors, seemed indisposed to notice the man.
Then the spectators roared to the criminal, bidding him invite the brute against himself. It was a strange fact that often in these horrible exhibitions a man condemned to fight with the beasts allowed himself a brief display of vanity, and sought to elicit the applause of the spectators by his daring conduct to the animal that was to mangle and kill him.
But the ill-humored fellow would not give this pleasure to the onlookers.
Then the master of the sports signed to the
attend
After many vain attempts, amidst the hooting and roar of the people, a sign was made. Some gladiators leaped in, and with their swords dispatched the taverner.
The spectators were indignant. They had been
shown no sport, only a common execution. They
were shivering with cold; some grumbled, and said
that this was childish stuff to witness which was
not worth the discomfort of the exposure. Then,
as with one voice, rose the yell: The wolves! send
in the wolves! Marcianus to the wolves!
The master of the games dispatched a messenger to the Quatuorvir who was then the acting magistrate. He nodded to what was said, waved his hand in the direction of the master’s box, and the latter sent an attendant to the keeper of the beasts.
The jailer-executioner at once grasped the deacon Falerius Marcianus by the shoulders, bade him descend some steps and enter the arena.
Marcianus was deadly white. He shrank with
disgust from the spot where the soil was drenched
with the blood of the taverner, and which was not
Come here, Cneius Marcianus,
said Petronius.
You belong to a respectable and ancient family.
You have been guilty of an infamous deed that has
brought disgrace on your entire order. See how
many absent themselves this day on that account!
Your property is confiscated, you are sentenced to
death. Yet I give you one chance. Sacrifice to the
gods and blaspheme Christ. I do not promise you
life if you do this. You must appeal to the people.
If they see you offer incense, they will know that
you have renounced the Crucified. Then I will put
the question to their decision. If they hold up their
thumbs you will live. Consider, it is a chance; it
depends, not on me, but on their humor. Will you
sacrifice?
Marcianus looked at the mighty hoop of faces. He
saw that the vast concourse was thrilled with expectation;
a notion crossed the mind of one of the
freedmen that Marcianus was being given a means
of escape, and he shouted words that, though audible
and intelligible to those near, were not to be caught
by such as were distant. But the purport of his
I will not sacrifice,
said the deacon; I am a
Christian.
Then Petronius Atacinus raised his hand, partly to assure the spectators that he was not opposing their wishes, partly as a signal to the master of the games.
Instantly a low door in the barrier was opened, and forth rushed a howling pack of wolves. When they had reached the center of the arena, they stood for a moment snuffing, and looked about them in questioning attitudes. Some, separating from the rest, ran with their snouts against the ground to where the recent blood had been spilt. But, all at once, a huge gray wolf, that led the pack, uttered a howl, and made a rush and a leap towards Marcianus; and the rest followed.
The sight was too terrible for the deacon to contemplate
it unmoved. He remained but for an
instant as one frozen, and then with a cry he started
and ran round the ellipse, and the whole gray pack
tore after him. Now and then, finding that they
gained on him, he turned with threatening gestures
that cowed the brutes; but this was for a moment
The spectators clapped their hands—some stood
up on their seats and laughed in ecstasy of enjoyment.
Once, twice he made the circuit of the arena;
and his pace, if possible, became quicker. The delight
of the spectators became an intoxication. It was
exquisite. Fear in the flying man became frantic.
His breath, his strength were failing. Then suddenly
he halted, half turned, and ran to the foot of
the barrier before the seat of the Quatuor-viri, and
extended his hand: Give me the incense! I worship
Nemausus! I adore Augustus! I renounce
Christ!
At the same moment the old monster wolf had seized him from behind. The arms of the deacon were seen for an instant in the air. The spectators stamped and danced and cheered—the dense gray mass of writhing, snarling beasts closed over the spot where Marcianus had fallen!
The acting magistrate turned to his fellow-quatuorvir,
charged with co-ordinate judicial authority,
on the left, and said: Your nose is leaden-purple
in hue.
No marvel, in this cold. I ever suffer there
with the least frost. My ear lobes likewise are seats
of chilblain.
In this climate! Astonishing! If it had been
in Britain, or in Germany, it might have been
expected.
My brother-magistrate,
said Vibius Fuscianus,
I believe that here in the south we are more sensible
to frost than are those who live under hyperborean
skies. There they expect cold, and take precautions
accordingly. Here the blasts fall on us
unawares. We groan and sigh till the sun shines
out, and then forget our sufferings. Who but fools
would be here to-day? Look above. The clouds
hang low, and are so dark that we may expect to
be pelted with hail.
Aye,
laughed Petronius, as big as the pebbles
that strew the Crau wherewith Hercules routed the
Ligurians. Well; it is black as an eclipse. I will
give thee a hint, Vibius mine! I have made my
slave line this marble seat with hot bricks. They
are comforting to the spine, the very column of life.
Presently he will be here with another supply.
You see we are not all fools. Some do make provision
against the cold.
I wish I had thought of this before.
That is precisely the wish that crossed the mind
of the poor wretch whom the wolves have finished.
He postponed his renunciation of Christ till just too
late.
Then Lucius Petronius yawned, stretched himself, and signed that the freedman who had robbed the master who had manumitted him, should be delivered to a panther.
The wolves were with difficulty chased out of the arena, and then all was prepared for this next exhibition. It was brief. The beast was hungry, and the criminal exposed made little effort to resist. Next came the turn of Baudillas.
Without raising himself in his seat, the Quatuorvir
said languidly: You broke out of prison, you
I cannot forswear Christ,
said Baudillas with
a firmness that surprised none so much as himself.
But, indeed, the fall of Marcianus, so far from drawing
him along into the same apostasy, had caused a
recoil in his soul. To hear his fellow-ministrant
deny Christ, to see him extend his hands for the
incense—that inspired him with an indignation
which gave immense force to his resolution. The
Church had been dishonored, the ministry disgraced
in Marcianus. Oh, that they might not be thus
humbled in himself!
Baudillas Macer,
said the magistrate, take
advice, and be speedy in making your election; your
fellow, who has just furnished a breakfast to the
wolves, hesitated a moment too long, and so lost his
life. By the time he had resolved to act as a wise
man and a good citizen, not the gods themselves
could deliver him.
I cannot offer sacrifice.
You are guilty of treason against Cæsar if you
I am his most obedient subject.
Then offer a libation or some frankincense.
I cannot. I pray daily to God for him.
A wilful man is like a stubborn ass. There is
naught for him but the stick. I can do no more.
I shall sentence you.
I am ready to die for Christ.
Then lead him away. The sword!
The deacon bowed. I am unworthy of shedding
my blood for Christ,
he said, and his voice,
though low, was firm.
Then he looked around and saw the Bishop Castor in the zone allotted to the citizens and knights. Baudillas crossed his arms on his breast and knelt on the sand, and the bishop, rising from his seat, extended his hand in benediction.
He, Castor, had not been called to sacrifice. He had not courted death, but he had not shrunk from it. He had not concealed himself, nevertheless he had been passed over.
Then the deacon, with firm step, walked into the center of the arena and knelt down.
In another moment his head was severed from the body.
The attendants immediately removed every trace of the execution, and now arrived the moment for which all had looked with impatience.
The magistrate said: Bring forward Perpetua,
daughter of Aulus Harpinius Læto, that has
lived.
At once Æmilius sprang into the arena and advanced before Petronius.
Suffer me to act as her advocate,
said he in an
agitated voice. You know me, I am Lentulus
Varo.
I know you very well by repute, Æmilius,
answered the Quatuorvir; but I think there is no
occasion now for your services. This is not a court
of justice in which your forensic eloquence can be
heard, neither is this a case to be adjudicated upon,
and calling for defence. The virgin was chosen by
lot to be given to the god Nemausus, and was again
demanded by him speaking at midnight, after she
had been rescued from his fountain, if I mistake not,
by you. Your power of interference ceased there.
Now, she is accused of nothing. She is reconsigned
to the god, whose she is.
I appeal to Cæsar.
If I were to allow the appeal, would that avail
thy client? But it is no case in which an appeal
is justifiable. The god is merciful. He does not
exact the life of the damsel, he asks only that she
enter into his service and be a priestess at his shrine,
that she pour libations before his altar, and strew
rose leaves on his fountain. Think you that the
Cæsar will interfere in such a matter? Think you
that, were it to come before him, he would forbid
this? But ask thy client if the appeal be according
to her desire.
Perpetua shook her head.
No, she is aware that it would be profitless.
If thou desirest to serve her, then use thy persuasion
and induce her to do sacrifice.
Sir,
said Æmilius in great agitation, how can
she become the votary of a god in whom she does
not believe?
Oh, as to that,
answered the Quatuorvir, it
is a formality, nothing more; a matter of incense
and rose leaves. As to
he turned to his
fellow-magistrate, and said, laughing, belief,listen to this
man. He talks of belief, as though that were a
necessary ingredient in worship! Thou, with thy
Fuscianus shrugged his shoulders. I hate all
meddlers with usages that are customary. I hate
them as I do a bit of grit in my salad. I put them
away.
The populace became impatient, shouted and
stamped. Some, provided with empty gourds, in
which were pebbles, rattled them, and made a
strange sound as of a hailstorm. Others clacked
together pieces of pottery. The magistrate turned
to the pontiff on his right and said: We believe
with all our hearts in the gods when we do sacrifice!
Oh, mightily, I trow.
Then he laughed again.
The priest looked grave for a moment, and then he
laughed also.
Come now,
said Lucius Petronius to the young
lawyer, to this I limit thy interference. Stand by
the girl and induce her to yield. By the Bow-bearer!
young men do not often fail in winning
the consent of girls when they use their best blandishments.
It will be a scene for the stage. You
have plenty of spectators.
Suffer me also to stand beside her,
said the
slave-woman Blanda, who had not left Perpetua.
By all means. And if you two succeed, none
will be better content than myself. I am not one
who would wish a fair virgin a worse fate than to
live and be merry and grow old. Ah me! old age!
Again the multitude shouted and rattled pumpkins.
We are detaining the people in the cold,
said
the presiding magistrate; the sports move sluggishly
as does our blood.
Then, aside to Fuscianus,
My bricks are becoming sensibly chilled. I require
a fresh supply.
Then to the maiden: Hear
me, Perpetua, daughter of Harpinius Læto that was—we
and the gods, or the gods and we, are indisposed
to deal harshly. Throw a few crumbs of
incense on the altar, and you shall pass at once up
those steps to the row of seats where sit the white-robed
priestesses with their crowns. I shall be well
content.
That is a thing I cannot do,
said Perpetua
firmly.
Then we shall have to make you,
said the
magistrate in hard tones. He was angry, vexed.
You will prove more compliant when you have
been extended on the rack. Let her be disrobed
and tortured.
Then descended into the arena two young men,
who bowed to the magistrate, solicited leave, and
drew forth styles or iron pens and tablets covered
with wax. These were the scribes of the Church
employed everywhere to take down a record of the
last interrogatory of a martyr. Such records were
called the Acts.
Of them great numbers have
been preserved, but unhappily rarely unfalsified.
The simplicity of the acts, the stiffness of style, the
Again, with the sweat of anguish breaking out on his brow, Æmilius interposed.
I pray your mercy,
he said; let the sentence
be still further modified. Suffer the damsel to be
relieved of becoming a priestess. Let her become
my wife, and I swear that I will make over my estate
That is an offer to be entertained by the priesthood
and not by me. Boy—hot bricks! and be
quick about removing those which have become
almost cold.
A pause ensued whilst the proposal of Æmilius
was discussed between the chief priestess of the
fountain and the Augustal
The populace became restless, impatient, noisy. They shouted, hooted; called out that they were tired of seeing nothing.
Come,
said Petronius, I cannot further delay
proceedings.
We consent,
said the chief pontiff.
That is well.
Then Æmilius approached Perpetua, and entreated
her to give way. To cast a few grains on
the charcoal meant nothing; it was a mere movement
of the hand, a hardly conscious muscular act,
altogether out of comparison with the results. Such
compliance would give her life, happiness, and
would place her in a position to do vast good, and
I cannot,
she said, looking Æmilius full in
the face. Do not think me ungrateful; my heart
overflows for what you have done for me, but I
cannot deny my Christ.
Again he urged her. Let her consent and he—even he would become a Christian.
No,
said she, not at that price. You would
be in heart for ever estranged from the faith.
To the rack! Lift her on to the little horse.
Domitius Afer left his bequest to the city in order
that we should be amused, not befooled,
howled
the spectators.
said the magistrate.
But if she cry out, let her off. She will
sacrifice. Only to the first hole—mind you. If
that does not succeed, well, then, we shall try
sharper means.
And now the little horse was set up in the midst of the arena, and braziers of glowing charcoal were planted beside it; in the fire rested crooks and pincers to get red hot.
The little horse
was a structure of timber.
Two planks were set edgeways with a wheel between
horse,
and this rope was strained over the
pulleys by means of the windlasses. The levers
could be turned to any extent, so as, if required, to
wrench arms and legs from their sockets.
And now ensued a scene that refuses description.
We are made a spectacle unto men and angels,
said the apostle, and none could realize how true
were the words better than those who lived in times
of persecution. Before that vast concourse the
modest Christian maiden was despoiled of her raiment
and was stretched upon the rack—swung between
the planks.
Æmilius felt his head swim and his heart contract. What could he do? Again he entreated, but she shook her head, yet turned at his voice and smiled.
Then the executioners threw themselves on the
levers, and a hush as of death fell on the multitude.
Twenty thousand spectators looked on, twice that
number of eyes were riveted on the frail girl
under
The creaking of the windlass was audible; then rang out a sharp cry of pain.
Immediately the cords were relaxed and the victim lowered to the ground. Blanda threw a mantle over her.
She will sacrifice,
said Æmilius; take off the
cords.
The executioners looked to the magistrate. He nodded, and they obeyed. The bonds were rapidly removed from her hands and feet.
Blanda, sustain her!
commanded Æmilius,
and he on one side, with his arm round the sinking,
quivering form, and the slave-woman on the other,
supported Perpetua. Her feet dragged and traced
a furrow in the sand; they were numbed and powerless
through the tension of the cords that had been
knotted about the ankles. Æmilius and Blanda
drew her towards the altar.
I cannot! I will not sacrifice! I am a Christian.
I believe in Christ! I love Christ!
Perpetua,
said Æmilius in agitated tones,
your happiness and mine depend on compliance.
For all I have done for you, if you will not for your
own sake—consent to this. Here! I will hold
your hand. Nay, it is I who will strew the incense,
and make it appear as though it were done by you.
Priest! The shell with the grains.
Spare me! I cannot!
gasped the girl, struggling
in his arms. I cannot be false to my Christ—for
all that He has done for me.
You shall. I must constrain you.
He set his
teeth, knitted his brow. All his muscles were set in
desperation. He strove to force her hand to the altar.
Shame on thee!
sobbed she. Thou art more
cruel than the torturer, more unjust than the judge.
It was so. Æmilius felt that she was right. They did but insult and rack a frail body, and he did violence to the soul within.
The people hooted and roared, and brandished
their arms threateningly. We will not be balked!
We are being treated to child’s play.
Take her back to the rack. Apply the fire,
ordered the Quatuorvir.
The executioners reclaimed her. She offered no
resistance. Æmilius staggered to the
She was again suspended on the little horse. Again the windlass creaked. The crowd listened, held its breath, men looked in each other’s eyes, then back to the scene of suffering. Not a sound; not a cry; no, not even a sigh. She bore all.
Try fire!
ordered the magistrate.
Æmilius had covered his face. He trembled. He would have shut his ears as he did his eyes, could he have done so. Verily, the agony of his soul was as great as the torture of her body. But there was naught to be heard—an ominous stillness, only the groaning of the windlass, and now and then a word from one executioner to his fellow.
At every creak of the wheel a quiver went through the frame of Æmilius. He listened with anguish of mind for a cry. The populace held its breath; it waited. There was none. Into her face he dared not look. But the twenty thousand spectators stared—and saw naught save lips moving in prayer.
And now a mighty wonder occurred.
The dense cloud that filled the heavens began
softly, soundlessly, to discharge its burden. First
came, scarce noticed, sailing down, a few large white
flakes like fleeces of wool. Then they came fast,
Cast her down!
This was the last command
issued by Petronius as he rose from his seat. The
executioners were glad to escape. They relaxed the
ropes, and threw their victim on the already white
ground.
Still thick and fast fell the fleeces. Blanda had
cast a mantle of wool over the prostrate girl, but out
of heaven descended a pall, whiter than fuller on
earth can bleach, and buried the woolen cloak and
the extended quivering limbs. Beside her, in the
snow, knelt Æmilius. He held her hand in one of
Give to Blanda her liberty.
He could not speak. He signed that it should be so.
Then she said: I have prayed for thee—on the
rack, in the fire—that the light may shine into thy
heart.
She closed her eyes.
Still he held her hand, and with the other gently brushed away the snowflakes as they fell on her pure face. Oh wondrous face! Face above the dream of the highest Greek artist!
Thus passed an hour—thus a second.
Then suddenly the clouds parted, and the sun
poured down a flood of glory over the dazzling white
oval field, in the midst of which lay a heap of whiteness,
and on a face as of alabaster, inanimate, and
on a kneeling, weeping man, still with reverent
finger sweeping away the last snowflakes from eyelash,
cheek and hair, and who felt as if he could
thus look, and kneel, and weep for ever.A.D. 303, and
is commemorated in the hymn on her by Prudentius.
Many days had passed. All was calm in Nemausus. The games were over.
The day succeeding that we have described was warm and spring-like. The sun shone brilliantly. Every trace of the snow had disappeared, and the water-fight in the amphitheater had surpassed the expectations of the people. They had enjoyed themselves heartily.
All had returned to its old order. The wool merchant took fresh commands, and sent his travelers into the Cebennæ to secure the winter fleeces. The woman who had the flower-shop sold garlands as fast as she could weave them. The potter spread out a fresh collection of his wares and did a good business with them.
The disturbances that had taken place were no more spoken about. The deaths of Marcianus, Baudillas and Perpetua hardly occupied any thoughts, save only those of their relatives and the Christians.
The general public had seen a show, and the show over, they had other concerns to occupy them.
Now both Pedo and Blanda were free, and the long tarrying was over. They had loved when young, they came together in the autumn of their lives.
In the heart of the Church of Nemausus there was not forgetfulness of its heroes.
If the visitor at the present day to Nîmes will
look about him, he will find two churches, both
recently rebuilt, in place of, and on the site of, very
ancient places of worship, and the one bears the
name of St. Baudille. If he inquire of the sacristan,
Mais qui, donc, était-il, ce saint?
then the answer
given him will be: Baudillas was a native of
Nîmes, a deacon, and a martyr.
If he ask further, But when?
Then the sacristan
will probably reply with a shrug: Mais,
monsieur; qui sait?
In another part of the town is a second church, glowing internally with color from its richly painted windows, and this bears the name of Ste. Perpetue.
Does the visitor desire to be told whether it has been erected in honor and in commemoration of the celebrated African martyrs Felicitas and Perpetua, or of some local virgin saint who shed her blood for Christ, then let him again inquire of the sacristan.
What his answer will be I cannot say.
The Bishop Castor remained much in his house.
He grieved that he had not been called to witness
to the faith that was in him. But he was a humble
man, and he said to himself: Such was the will of
God, and that sufficeth me.
One evening he was informed that a man, who would not give his name, desired to speak with him.
He ordered that he should be introduced.
When the visitor entered, Castor recognized Æmilius, but the man was changed. Lines of thought and of sorrow marked his face, that bore other impress as well of the travail of his soul within him. He seemed older, his face more refined than before, there was less of carnal beauty, and something spiritual that shone out of his eyes.
The bishop warmly welcomed him.
Then said Æmilius in a low tone, I am come to
thee for instruction. I know but little, yet what I
know of Christ I believe. He is not dead, He liveth;
He is a power; mighty is faith, and mighty is the
love that He inspires.
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