Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs: A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome

by W. H. Withrow

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE IMPERIAL BANQUET.

  At the summons of Callirho[e:] a Nubian female slave, Juba by name, an oldfamily nurse, skilled in the use of herbs and potions, made herappearance. Her huge and snowy turban and her bright-coloured dressstrikingly contrasted with her jet complexion and homely features. Yet,as the personal attendant of the young empress, it was her duty toaccompany her mistress to the banquet-hall, to stand behind her chair,to adjust her robes, hold her fan, and obey her every word or gesture.As she drew aside the curtain of the apartment which shut out the lightand heat, two lictors who guarded the door sprang to their feet andpreceded the empress through the marble corridor to the _triclinium_, orbanquet chamber. It was a family party, rather than a state banquet, butneither Greeks nor Romans practised a profuse hospitality nor held largesocial or festive gatherings like those of modern times. Their feastswere rather for the intense epicurean pleasure of a favoured few thanfor the rational enjoyment of a larger company.[10]

  Couches inlaid with ivory and decked with cushions surrounded threesides of a hollow square. On these the emperor and his male guestsreclined, each resting on his left arm. On ivory chairs facing the openside of the square sat the Empress Prisca (a majestic-looking matron ofsomewhat grave aspect), Valeria, and a lady of the court, eachaccompanied by her female slave. The extreme ugliness of the Nubian Jubaacted as a foil for the striking beauty of Valeria.

  First of all, the guests were crowned with wreaths of fair and fragrantflowers. Then elegantly dressed slaves brought in, to the sound ofmusic, the different courses: first eggs dressed with vinegar, olivesand lettuce, like our salad; then roast pheasants, peacocks' tongues andthrushes, and the livers of capons steeped in milk; next oysters broughtalive from the distant shores of Great Britain, and, reversing ourorder, fish in great variety--one of the most beautiful of these was thepurple mullet--served with high-seasoned condiments and sauces. Of solidmeats the favourite dish was a roast sucking pig, elegantly garnished.Of vegetables they had nothing corresponding to our potatoes, but,instead, a profusion of mallows, lentils, truffles, and mushrooms. Thebanquet wound up with figs, olives, almonds, grapes, tarts andconfections, and apples--hence the phrase _ab ovo ad mala_.

  After the first course the emperor poured out a libation of Falernianwine, with the Greek formula, "to the supreme God," watching eagerly ifhis wife and daughter would do the same. Lacking the courage to make abold confession of Christianity, and thinking, with a casuistry that weshall not attempt to defend, that the ambiguity of the expressionexcused the act, they also, apparently to the great relief of theemperor, poured out a libation and sipped a small quantity of the wine.The emperor then drank to the health of his wife and daughter, wishingthe latter many returns of the auspicious day they had met to celebrate.Each of the guests also made, according to his ability, a complimentaryspeech, which the ladies acknowledged by a gracious salutation. Afterthe repast slaves brought perfumed water and embroidered napkins for theguests to wash their fingers, which had been largely employed in theprocess of dining.

  The most of the guests were sycophants and satellites of the emperor,and in the intervals between the courses employed their art inflattering his vanity or fomenting his prejudices. One of them,Semphronius by name, an old fellow with a very bald and shiny head anda very vivacious manner, made great pretensions to the character of aphilosopher or professor of universal knowledge, and was ever ready,with a great flow of often unmeaning words, to give a theory orexplanation of every conceivable subject. Others were coarse andsensual-looking _bon vivants_, who gave their attention chiefly to theenjoyment of the good fare set before them. Another sinister-lookingfellow, with a disagreeable cast in one eye and a nervous habit ofclenching his hand as if grasping his sword, was Quintus Naso, theprefect of the city. He had been a successful soldier, or ratherbutcher, in the Pannonian wars, and was promoted to his bad eminence ofoffice on account of his truculent severity. Of very differentcharacter, however, was a young man of noble family, Adauctus by name,who was present in his official character as Treasurer of the ImperialExchequer.[11] He almost alone of the guests paid a courteous attentionto the high-born ladies of the party, to whom he frequently addressedpolite remarks while the others were intent only in fawning on the greatsource of power. He, also, alone of all present, conspicuously refrainedfrom pouring out a libation--a circumstance which did not escape thekeen eye of the emperor. After interrupted talk on general topics, inwhich the ladies took part, the conversation drifted to public matters,on which they were not expected to meddle.

  "Well, Naso, how was the edict received?" said the emperor to theprefect, as a splendid roast peacock, with sadly despoiled plumage, wasremoved.

  "As every command of your divine Majesty should be received," repliedNaso, "with respectful obedience. One rash fool, indeed, attempted totear it down from the rostra of the Forum, like that mad wretch atNicomedia; but he was taken in the act. He expiates to-night his crime,so soon as I shall have wrung from him the names of his fanaticalaccomplices,"--and he clenched his hands nervously, as though he werehimself applying the instruments of torture.

  "And you know well how to do that," said the emperor with a sneer, for,like all tyrants, he despised and hated the instruments of his tyranny.

  "You may well call them fanatics, good Naso," chimed in the would-bephilosopher, Semphronius; "a greater set of madmen the world never saw.They believe that this Chrestus whom they worship actually rose from thedead. Heard ever any man such utter folly as that! Whereas I havesatisfied myself, from a study of the official records, that he wasonly a Jewish thaumaturge and conjuror, who used to work pretendedmiracles by means of dupes and accomplices. And when, for his sedition,he was put to death as the vilest of felons, these accomplices stole hisbody and gave out that he rose from the dead."[12]

  "I have heard," said Adauctus gravely, "that the Romans took care toprevent such a trick as that by placing a maniple of soldiers on guardat His grave."

  "Yes, I believe they say so," went on the unabashed Semphronius; "but ifthey did, the dastards were either overpowered, or they all fell asleepwhile his fellow-knaves stole his body away."

  "Come now, Semphronius," said the emperor, "that is too improbable astory about a whole maniple of soldiers. You and I know too well, Naso,the Roman discipline to accept such an absurd story as that."

  "Oh, if your divine Majesty thinks it improbable, I fully admit that itis so," the supple sophist eagerly replied. "I am inclined to identifythis impostor and a kinsman of his who was beheaded by the divine Herodwith the Janus and Jambres whose story is told in the sacred books ofthe Jews. But it is evident, from the identity of name of one of thesewith the god Janus, that they merely borrowed the story from the Romanmythology. This execrable superstition, they say, was brought to Rome bytwo brothers named Paulus and Simon Magus. They both expiated theircrimes, one in the Mammertine Prison, the other without the Ostian Gate.They say also that when Simon the magician struck the prison wall, awell of water gushed forth for some of their mystic rites; and that whenthe head of Paulus was smitten off it bounded three times on the ground,and at each spot where it touched a well of water sprang up. But theseare stories that no sane man can believe."[13]

  "I quite agree with you in that," said Adauctus.

  "Do you, indeed?" exclaimed the Emperor; "I am glad to know that sobrave and trusted an officer can say so."

  "I believe, your Majesty, that half the stories told about theChristians are calumnies that no candid man can receive," continued theyoung officer.

  "You are a bold man to say so, for they have few friends and manyenemies at court," replied Diocletian; "but we will soon extort theirsecrets by this edict. Will we not, good Naso?"

  "It will not be my fault if we do not, your divine Majesty," repliedthat worthy, with a more hideous leer than usual in his cruel eye.

  "Another thing these fools of Christians believe," interjected thegarrulous philosopher, "is, that when they die their souls sh
all live insome blander clime, and breathe some more ethereal air. 'Tis this thatmakes them seem to covet martyrdom, as they call it, instead of, likeall sane men, shunning death."

  "But do not your own poets," chimed in the soft voice of Valeria, "speakof the Elysian fields and the asphodel meadows where the spirits ofheroes walk, and of the bark of Charon, who ferries them across thefatal Styx?"

  "True, your most august Highness," replied the pedant with grimaceintended to be polite, "but those fables are intended for the vulgar,and not for the cultured classes, to which your Imperial Highnessbelongs. Even the priests themselves do not believe in the existence ofthe gods at whose altars they minister; so that Cicero, you willremember, said that 'he wondered how one augur could look in the face ofanother without laughing.'"

  "I quite admit," remarked Adauctus, "that the priests are oftenimpostors, deceiving the people; but our wisest philosophers--thethoughtful Pliny, the profound Tacitus, the sage Seneca, and even theeloquent Cicero whom you have quoted--teach the probability if not thecertainty of a future state, where virtue shall be rewarded andwickedness punished."

  "What do they know about it any more than any of us?" interrupted thetruculent Naso, to whom ethical themes were by no means familiar orwelcome. "My creed is embodied in the words of that clever fellow,Juvenal, that I used to learn at school--

  'Esse aliquid manes, et subterranea regna, Nec pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum [ae]re lavantur.'"[14]

  "What's the use of all this talk?" lisped a languid-looking epicureanfop, who, sated with dissipation, at twenty-five found life as empty asa sucked orange. "We cannot alter fate. Life is short; let us make themost of it. I'd like to press its nectar into a single draught and havedone with it for ever. As the easy-going Horace says, 'The same thinghappens to us all. When our name, sooner or later, has issued from thefatal urn, we leave our woods, our villa, our pleasant homes, and enterthe bark which is to bear us into eternal exile!'"[15]

  Here the Emperor made an impatient gesture, to indicate that he wasweary of this philosophic discourse. At the signal the ladies rose andretired. Adauctus also made his official duties an excuse for leavingthe table, where Diocletian and his other guests lingered for hours ina drunken symposium.

  Thus we find that the very questions which engage the agnostics andskeptics and pessimists of the present age--the Mallocks, and Cliffords,and Harrisons and their tribe--have agitated the world from the verydawn of philosophy. Did space permit, we might cite the theories ofLucretius as a strange anticipation of the development hypothesis.Indeed the writings of Pyrrho, Porphyry and Celsus show us that theuniversal tendency of human philosophy, unaided by divine inspiration,is to utter skepticism.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [10] On a single supper for his friends, Lucullus, who is said to havefed his lampreys with the bodies of his slaves, is recorded to haveexpended 50,000 denarii--about $8,500.

  [11] His name and office are recorded even by so skeptical a critic asGibbon, and his epitaph has been found in the Catacombs. See Withrow'sCatacombs, p. 46.

  [12] Strauss and Renan and their rationalizing school rival this pagansophist in eliminating the miraculous from the sacred record.

  [13] Yet these stories, too incredible for this old pagan, were gravelyrelated to the present writer, on the scene of the alleged miracles, bythe credulous Romans of to-day.

  [14] _Sat._ ii. 49. "That the manes are anything, or the nether worldanything, not even boys believe, unless those still in the nursery."

  [15] See that saddest but most beautiful of the ode of Horace, ToDelius, II. 3:

  ... Et nos in [ae]ternum Exilium impositura cymb[ae].