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

by W. H. Withrow

  CHAPTER V.

  "THE CHRISTIANS TO THE LIONS."

  The progress of our story transports us, on the day after the banquetdescribed in our last chapter, to the palace of the Prefect Naso, on theAventine. It was a large and pompous-looking building, with amany-columned portico and spacious gardens, both crowded with statuary,the spoil of foreign cities, or the product of degenerate Greek art--asoffensive in design as skilful in execution. The whole bore evidence ofthe ostentation of vulgar wealth rather than of judicious taste. A crowdof "clients" and satellites of the great man were hanging round thedoors, eager to present some petition, proffer some service, or to swellhis idle retinue, like jackals around a lion, hoping to pick up a livingas hangers-on of such a powerful and unscrupulous dispenser ofpatronage. In the degenerate days of the Empire, the civic officialsespecially had always a swarm of needy dependents seeking to fatten onthe spoils of office. They were supposed, in some way, to add to thedignity of the consuls and pr[ae]tors, as in later times were the retainersof a medi[ae]val baron. The system of slavery had made all honest labouropprobrious, and these idle, corrupt, and dangerous parasites had to bekept in good humour by lavish doles and constant amusements. "Bread andthe Circus," was their imperious demand, and having these, they caredfor nothing else.

  On the morning in question there was considerable excitement among thisturbulent throng, for the rumour was current that there was to be anexamination of certain prisoners accused of the vile crime ofChristianity; and there were hopes that the criminals would supply freshvictims for the games of the amphitheatre, which for some time hadlanguished for lack of suitable material. The temper of the mob we maylearn by the remarks that reach our ears as we elbow our way through.

  "Ho, Davus! what's the news to-day?" asked a cobbler with his leathernapron tucked up about his waist, of a greasy-looking individual whostrutted about with much affectation of dignity; "you have the run ofhis Excellency's kitchen, and ought to know."

  "Are _you_ there, Samos?" (a nick-name meaning Flat Nose). "Back to yourden, you slave, and don't meddle with gentlemen. _'Ne sutor,'_ you knowthe rest."

  "Can't you see that the cook drove him out with the basting ladle?" saidMuscus, the stout-armed blacksmith, himself a slave, and resenting theinsult to his class; and so the laugh was turned against the hungryparasite.

  "Here, good Max, you are on the guard, you can tell us," went on theburly smith.

  "News enough, as you'll soon find. There's to be more hunting of theChristians for those who like it. For my part, I don't."

  "Why not," asked Burdo, the butcher, a truculent looking fellow with agreat knife in a sheath at his girdle. "I'd like no better fun. I'd aslief kill a Christian as kill a calf."

  "It might suit your business," answered stout Max, with a sneer, "buthunting women and children is not a soldier's trade."

  "O ho! that's the game that's a-foot!" chuckled a withered little wretchwith a hungry face and cruel eyes, like a weasel. "Here's a chance foran honest man who worships the old gods to turn an honest penny."

  "Honest man!" growled Max. "Diogenes would want a good lantern to findone in Rome to-day. He'd certainly never take thee for one. Thy veryface would convict thee of violating all the laws in the Twelve Tables."

  "Hunting the Christians, that's the game, is it?" said an ill-dressedidler, blear-eyed and besotted; "and pestilent vermin they are. I'd liketo see them all drowned in the Tiber like so many rats."

  "You are more likely to see them devoured in the amphitheatre," saidBruto, a Herculean gladiator. "The Prefect is going to give some grandgames on the Feast of Neptune. Our new lions will have a chance toflesh their teeth in the bodies of the Christians. The wretches haven'tthe courage to fight, like the Dacian prisoners, with us gladiators, noreven with the beasts; but just let themselves be devoured like sheep."

  At this juncture a commotion was observed about the door, and Naso, thePrefect, came forth and looked haughtily around. Several clients pressedforward with petitions, which he carelessly handed unopened to hissecretary, who walked behind. He regarded with some interest theelegantly-dressed and graceful youth who glided through the throng andpresented a scroll, saying, as he did so--

  "It is of much importance, your Excellency. It is about the Christians."

  "Follow me to the Forum," said the Prefect, and our old acquaintanceIsidorus, for it was he, fell into the train of the great civicdignitary. Arrived at the Basilica Julia, or great Court of Justice, thePrefect beckoned to the young Greek secretary, and entered a privateante-room. Throwing himself into a bronze chair, and pointing the Greekto a marble seat, he asked abruptly--

  "Now, what is this you know about these Christians?"

  "Something of much importance to your Excellency, and I hope to learnsomething still more important."

  "You shall be well paid if you do," said the Prefect. "It is difficultto convict them of any crime."

  "I have secret sources of information, your Excellency. In fact, I hopeto bring you the names of the ringleaders of the accursed sect."

  "How so? Are you not the secretary of Flaccus Sertorius?"

  "I am, your Excellency, but he has no heart in the work of this newedict. I would like to see more zeal in the Emperor's service."

  "I like not this Sertorius," said the Prefect, half musing. "He affectstoo much what they call the severe old Roman virtues to suit thesetimes. But how do you expect to learn the secrets of these Christians?"

  "By becoming one myself, your Excellency, replied the Greek, with asinister expression in his eyes."

  "By becoming one yourself!" exclaimed the Prefect, in a tone of angerand surprise. Then noting the wily expression of the supple Greek, headded, "Oh! I see, by becoming a spy upon their practices and a betrayerof their secrets. Is that it?"

  "We Greeks like not the words traitor and spy," said the youth, with afaint blush, "but to serve the Emperor and your Excellency we would beareven that opprobrium."

  "Well, you look capable of it," said the Prefect, with an undisguisedsneer, "and I will gladly use any instruments to crush this vile sect."

  "But, your Excellency," said the cringing Greek, swallowing his chagrinand annoyance, "I shall require gold to gain the confidence of theseChristians--not to bribe them, for that is impossible, but to spend inwhat they call charity--to give to their sick and poor."

  "Not forgetting yourself, I'll be bound," sneered the Prefect. "But whatyou say is no doubt true;" and turning to the table he wrote an orderupon the Imperial Exchequer, and handed it to the Greek, with the words,"If you make good use of that, there is more where it comes from. TheEmperor pays his _faithful_ servants well." Then dismissing thetreacherous tool whom he himself despised, he passed into the Basilica,or court, where the bold Christian youth who had torn down the Emperor'sedict was to receive his sentence.

  Livid with the torture he had undergone to make him disclose the namesof his accomplices--tortures which he had borne with heroic fortitudehe boldly avowed his act, and defied the power of the Prefect to extortthe name of a single Christian from his lips. We will not harrow thehearts of our readers by recounting the atrocious tortures by which thebody of the brave youth had been wrung. He was at length borne awayfainting to his cruel fate. Although the Prefect, who had sworn to havehis secret if he tore the heart out of his body, gnashed his teeth inimpotent rage at the defiance of the mangled martyr, yet he could not inhis inmost soul help feeling the vast gulf between his sublime fidelityand the heinous guilt of the base traitor from whom he had just parted.

  The pages of the contemporary historians, Eusebius and Lactantius, givetoo minute and circumstantial accounts of the persecutions, of whichthey were eye-witnesses, to allow us to adopt the complacent theory ofGibbon, that the sufferings of the Christians were comparatively fewand insignificant. "We ourselves have seen," says the Bishop of C[ae]sarea,"crowds of persons, some beheaded, others burned alive in a single day,so that the murderous weapons were blunted and broken to pieces, and theexecutione
rs, weary with slaughter, were obliged to give over the workof blood.... They vied with each other," he continues, "in inventing newtortures, as if there were prizes offered to him who should contrive thegreatest cruelties."[16] Men whose only crime was their religion, werescourged with chains laden with bronze balls, till the flesh hung inshreds, and even the bones were broken. They were bound in fetters ofred hot iron, and roasted over fires so slow that they lingered forhours, or even days, in their mortal agony; their flesh was scraped fromthe very bone with ragged shells, or lacerated with burning pincers,iron hooks, and instruments with horrid teeth and claws, hence called_ungul[ae]_, examples of which have been found in the Catacombs; moltenmetal was applied to their bodies till they became one undistinguishablewound, and mingled salt and vinegar,[17] or unslacked lime, were rubbedupon the quivering flesh, torn and bleeding from the rack orscourge--tortures more inhuman than savage Indian ever wreaked upon hismortal foe. Chaste matrons and tender virgins were given over to a fatea thousand-fold worse than death, and were subjected to indignities toohorrible for words to utter. And all these sufferings were endured,often with joy and exultation, for the love of a Divine Master, when asingle word, a grain of incense cast upon the heathen altar, would havereleased the victims from their agonies. No lapse of time, and no recoilfrom the idolatrous homage paid in after ages to the martyr's relics,should impair in our hearts the profound and rational reverence withwhich we bend before his tomb.

  While the examination of the Christian martyr was in progress, muchinterest was manifested in his fate by the throng of idlers who werewont to linger around the public courts, to gratify their curiosity ortheir morbid love of cruelty.

  "The State is in danger," said Piso, the barber, gesticulatingviolently, "if such miscreants are suffered to live."

  "Ay, is it," chimed in a garrulous pedagogue, "this is rank treason."

  "Right, neighbour Probus," added a pettifogging lawyer. "This is thevery _crimen majestatis_. These men are the enemies of C[ae]sar and of theRoman people."

  "Who would think he was so wicked?" said a poor freed-woman who soldsugar barley in the Forum. "Sure he looks innocent enough."

  "He _is_ innocent," replied her neighbour, who kept a stall for the saleof figs and olives. "'Tis that wretch who is wicked," looking fiercelyat the Prefect as he moved from the court.

  "You are right," said a grave-looking man, speaking low, but with a lookof secret understanding; "but be careful. You can do the brave Lucius nogood, and may betray the others into jeopardy," and he passed swiftlythrough the throng.

  "'Tis time all these Atheists were exterminated," said Furbo, a sort ofhanger-on at the neighbouring temple of Saturn. "The gods are angry, andthe victims give sinister auspices. To-day when the priest slew the ramfor the sacrifice, would you believe it? it had no heart; and the sacredchickens refused their food."

  "And they certainly are to blame for the floods of the Tiber, whichdestroyed all the olives and lentils in my shop," said Fronto, the oiland vegetable seller.

  "And the rain rusted all the wheat on our farm," said Macer, thevillicus or land-steward.

  "And the fever has broken out afresh in the Suburra," croaked a witheredold Egyptian crone, like a living mummy, who told fortunes and soldspells in that crowded and pest-smitten quarter, where the poor swarmedlike flies.

  "And the drought has blighted all the vines," echoed Demetrius, thewine-merchant.

  "I never knew trade so dull," whined Ephraim, the Jewish money-lender."We'll never have good times again till these accursed Christians areall destroyed."

  "So say I," "And I," "And I," shouted one after another of the mob, tillthe wild cry rang round the Forum, _"Christiani adleones"_--"TheChristians to the lions."[18]

  FOOTNOTES:

  [16] Euseb. Hist Eccles., viii. 7.

  [17] "Salt me the more, that I may be incorruptible," said Tarachus, themartyr, as he underwent this excruciating torture.

  [18] "If the Tiber overflows its banks," says Tertullian, "or if theNile does not; if there be drought or earthquakes, famine or pestilence,the cry is raised, 'the Christians to the lions.' But I pray you," headds, in refutation of these absurd charges, "were misfortunes unknownbefore Tiberius? The true God was not worshipped when Hannibal conqueredat Cann[ae], or the Gauls filled the city."--Tertul. _Apol._, x.