by Mór Jókai
CHAPTER II.
What a wonderful phenomenon it was that truth should triumph overfiction, and the simple doctrines of the Cross should conquer delusivemythology!
The religion of the poets, the dreamy groves, the flower-strewn shore,the chosen deities of the sunlit island worlds, who in the enthusiasmof this artistic nature rose from the foam of the sea, were pervadedby the fragrance of flowers, immortalized as stars. Warm ideal figuresunited with mankind by sweet love dalliance. How all this fabricvanished from the arms of its worshippers at one word from the mightyBeing who, throned on a measureless height, is yet near to every humancreature, whom no one can see, but everyone can feel, and who is theGod of the stars as well as of the lilies of the field.
How the altars of the Olympian gods gradually grew cold, how the rosegarlands vanished from the golden plinths, how the people disappearedfrom the perfumed halls to hear beneath the open sky, illumined byglowing sunlight, the words of an invisible truth.
This sky, this sunlit sky was the mystery of mysteries! The night-sky,with its thousand stars, was the mythological heaven; that of the daybelonged to the faith of the truth indivisible. Neither the depth northe height of the latter can be measured. We only feel the beneficentwarmth, and from the infinite blue distance an eternal hope tells theheart that beyond this sky is another and a better world, of whichthis earth is only the shadow; and the darker, the more gloomy are theshadows here, the more radiant is the truth there.
This was the idea which won the victory. Earth ceased to be a prison;death was no affliction, and the Caesar was no longer omnipotent.
In the time of Augustus Caesar a poet said:
"If Rome persecutes thee, whither wilt thou flee? Wherever thou maystgo, thou art everywhere in the power of Rome." The new faith offeredevery persecuted human being a place of refuge, and Rome vainlyconquered all the known world. Another unknown world full of secretjoys that increased in proportion was reserved for those who sufferedhere below, and the darker, the gloomier the shadows here, the moreradiant would be the truth there.
This faith which wiped the tears from the cheeks of those who weptcould not fail to conquer. Soon persecutors and persecuted united init, for it alone afforded comfort to him who suffered innocently, andforgiveness to him who acted unjustly. The persecutions of the Caesarsonly increased the adherents of the new religion instead of lesseningthem. In the public streets in the midst of Rome appeared those chosenby the Holy Spirit to proclaim the doctrines of the omnipotent God,which they would deny neither on funeral pyres nor under the teeth ofthe wild beasts in the circus games; and the living torches which,covered with pitch, were kindled to light the imperial gardens,declared, even in the midst of the flames, that what was anguish andsuffering here was salvation and joy there.
In vain were they murdered. The blood of the slain merely sealed thedoctrines which they attested; and whoever creates martyrs only gainsimplacable foes.
But the Imperator Carinus invented a new species of martyrdom.
The proselytes shrank neither from death nor from torture. What wasanguish to others seemed bliss to them; and fragile girls, inspiredby the Holy Ghost, sang hymns of praise in the midst of the flames.
Carinus no longer had these sainted virgins dragged to blazing pyres,but gave them to his soldiers; and virtuous women who did not recoilfrom the most terrible death trembled in the presence of the shamewhich scorched the purity of their souls more fiercely than the flamesof the burning oil. And while they entered the arena of the circuswith brave faces, they thought with horror of the hidden dens of sin.
It was a diabolical idea to punish those who, for the transparentpurity of their souls, were ready to renounce all the pleasures andjoys of earth, by the lowest form of these joys. And Carinus knew thathis victims could not even escape this disgrace by death, since thereligion of the Christians forbade suicide.
Therefore during his reign believers met at the hour of midnight insecret places, subterranean caverns, and abandoned tombs, anddispersed again at dawn.
The Roman augurs had been informed of these secret meetings; and, thatthe people might help in searching out the places, they spread thereport that the Christians, after all the lights were extinguished,committed horrible deeds which could be done only in the deepestdarkness. This was saying a great deal, since in Rome every possibleatrocity was perpetrated in the brightest daylight.
* * * * *
Gliding along the shore in his boat, Manlius constantly drew nearer tothe singing which so strangely thrilled his heart, and soon reached anarm of the Tiber, at whose mouth about twenty empty boats were rockingon the water.
He looked around, and saw by the dim, uncertain moonlight, a largeround, massive building, shaded by huge Italian pines, from whoseinterior the music seemed to issue.
He walked around it. The moon was shining through the windows andcolonnades, but no human being was visible. Manlius thought with ashudder of the tales of witches which he had heard in his childhood,of the Sabbath of wicked souls that met in invisible forms in placesshunned by all men. His superstitious terror increased as heassociated the vision of his dream with this tradition. He always sawbefore him the face of lovely, gentle Sophronia when he tried to thinkof these accursed sorcerers; and against the gloomy, horriblebackground her smiling countenance appeared.
At last he summoned up his courage, and releasing his hand from hiscloak, he strode resolutely into the vestibule of the building. As heentered, his thoughts, at the first glance, took a differentdirection; for in the centre of this vestibule a square stone had beenraised from the floor, and through the opening thus formed, asubterranean hall could be seen, from which rose the singing.
So this was the _Agapeia_ of the Christians.
Concealed by the darkness and the shadow of a pillar Manlius sawbefore him two long rows of figures. The heads of the men were coveredwith hoods, the women were closely veiled. All were singing a gentle,mournful melody. The tones expressed self-sacrificing sorrow, asublime, quiet suffering, blended with a strange suggestion of griefwhich sent a cold shiver through the nerves of the listening Roman.
A few small oil lamps were burning at the end of the dimly lightedhall, by whose faint glimmer Manlius perceived a lifeless human form,whose feet and hands, stretched in the form of a cross, were piercedwith nails, while a crown of thorns adorned the brow, and a freshlybleeding wound was visible in the side.
"So these are the terrible people who under the shelter of night holdtheir abominable meetings," thought Manlius, panting for breath as hishand sought the hilt of his sword; while in his excitement he fanciedhe saw the head of the figure nailed to the cross sink lower andlower.
The singing ceased, and after a long, soughing sound, which is theuniversal sigh of a devout assembly, an old man, whose snow-whitebeard floated far down on the breast of his black robe, came forward.Taking a cup which stood at the feet of the crucified form, he raisedit to his lips and kissed it three times with devout fervour.
But instead of devotion Manlius saw an expression of loathsomebloodthirstiness in the face of the grey-haired monster, while thepenitent kneeling of the men and women seemed to him an evil, obscenemovement; and the cup before which all bowed their heads, in hisimagination, was filled with blood, the blood of a man murdered in aterrible manner.
The old man in a trembling voice said:
"In this cup is His blood, which was shed to bless us; this cup is theholy remembrance which effaces; this cup is the bond by which we shallbe united! Worship this holy symbol, and be pure through the blood ofthe purest!"
Shuddering, Manlius grasped his sword-hilt, and when he saw a tallfemale figure clad in white, with her veil partly thrown back,approach the old man and take the cup from his hand, he tore the bladefrom its sheath and, frantic with horror, sprang through the squareopening into the midst of the hall.
"Hold, accursed murderers!" he cried, blinded with rage. "Youapostles of sin! What are you doing here?"
Not a sound was heard in the assembly. It was prepared for suchattacks. The old man answered quietly:
"We are worshipping God!"
"May you be accursed when you utter that word! You have committeddeeds for which even the darkness of night is no protection. Youdisturb by your diabolical songs the dead resting beneath the earth;you kill human beings and force one another to drink their blood, andwhen your nerves are roused to execrable excitement by this blood, youextinguish your torches and commit sins whose bare thought inspireshorror."
"You will repent what you have said, Manlius Sinister!" cried theclear voice of a woman standing beside the greybeard. It was the onewho had first taken the cup. Manlius started as he heard a familiarvoice utter his own name, and when the lady now threw back her veil,he beheld in amazement Sophronia's gentle, innocent face, with itsmild, calm eyes, divine smile, and the hallowed power of an almostsupernatural firmness.
"Sophronia!" groaned Manlius, and his drawn sword fell from his hand.Doubt took possession of his heart. He believed that he was still thesport of a terrible dream, and with heavy tongue faltered:
"Gods of Olympus, let me wake!"
"You are awake!" said Sophronia. "Look me in the face. I am Sophronia,the friend of your childhood."
"But this cup of blood----"
"Blood only for those who believe, the remembrance of blood for thosewho remember. Touch it with your lips."
With ill-repressed loathing Manlius tried the contents of the cup andstammered in amazement:
"This is wine." Then, in a low tone, seized by a fear hithertounknown, he asked: "And that dying figure?"
"Is the image of the crucified Saviour."
Manlius perceived with astonishment that it was only a paintedpicture.
"Do you worship a dead man?"
"A god who became man to die."
"That is impossible."
"How often the gods of Olympus assumed human form in order to enjoypleasures whose sweetness can be experienced only by human senses. TheGod of Love, our God, assumed human form in order to be able to feelthe sorrows which torture mankind, misery, shame, persecution, anddeath. The gods of Olympus became human beings to show mortals thepath to hell; the God of Love, our God, became a mortal to guide usinto the way to heaven! The gods of Olympus are brilliant, royalforms, who demand sacrificed victims, gold, magnificent temples,bloody hecatombs, and promise in return long life, treasures,palaces, and blood-stained victories. The God of Love, our God, is apoor, dead form, who asks nothing except a pure heart, and promisesnothing at all for this life; whose image is a symbol that, in thisexistence, we shall have only sorrow and suffering, but in anotherworld joy and happiness await us----"
While these words were uttered, all who were present involuntarilybared their heads. Manlius did the same, without knowing why. Theothers knelt down; he, too, fell on his knees.
"I have persecuted you wrongfully," he faltered, extending his arms,"Take vengeance on me."
"The God of Love commands us to forgive our persecutors. Leave thisplace in peace and confidence. Though you should betray us, tortureus, slay us, we will pray for you."
"May I be accursed if I do so. Never can I leave you calmly, for youhave filled my heart with unrest. The terrible words of the avengingGod arrested me in my path. I read in your face the words of theall-pardoning God. Oh, give me comfort. Must I lose two heavens: oneabove, the other in your heart?"
"The heaven of love is closed against no one," said Sophronia,pointing upward with holy devotion.
Manlius clasped the outstretched hand, and raising it to his lips,asked with tender emotion:
"And your heart?"
"The God of Love does not forbid earthly love," replied Sophronia,with a radiant smile.
Manlius, his face glowing with happiness, sank at the young girl'sfeet, resting at her side like a tamed lion, while through the hallrang the hymn of joy which teaches rejoicing with those who rejoice.
The grey-haired patriarch laid his hand upon the new catechumen'shead, and the dying God looked in benediction upon them all.