CHAPTER XXIITHE ARENA

[pg 256]CHAPTER XXIITHE ARENAThe 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[pg 257]weather. Unless the mistral ceased and the rain passed away, it would be impossible for the sports to be held. It was true that the entire oval could be covered in by curtains and mats, stretched between poles, but this contrivance was intended as shelter against sun and not rain. Moreover, the violence of the wind had rendered it quite impossible to extend the curtains.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[pg 258]men were beginning to exhibit a power of control.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[pg 259]would eventually be able to wrest the control of the municipal government from those who had hitherto exercised it.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 therobur, but had escaped, was also to be brought out and executed, as having assisted in the rescue of Perpetua from the fountain, but chiefly for having connived at the crime of Falerius Marcianus.To the general satisfaction, the wind fell as suddenly as it had risen, and that on the night preceding[pg 260]the sports. The weather remained bitterly cold, and the sky was dark with clouds that seemed ready to burst. Not a ray of sunlight traveled across the arena and climbed the stages of the amphitheater. The day might have been one in November, and the weather that encountered on the northern plains of Germania.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 thepodiumor breastwork confining the arena, were those for the municipal dignitaries, for the priests, and for certain strangers to whom seats had been granted by decree of the town council. Here might be read,[pg 261]“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 thepodiumat one end, and at the other the master of the games and his attendants, the prefect of the watch and of the firemen.Two doors, one at each end, gave access to the arena, or means of exit. One was that of thevivarium, whence the gladiators and prisoners issued from a large chamber under the seats and feet of the spectators. The other door was that which conducted to thelibitinum, into which were cast the corpses of men and the carcasses of beasts that had perished in the games.Immediately below the seat of the principal magistrates and of the pontiffs was a little altar, on[pg 262]the breastwork about the arena, with a statue of Nemausus above it; and a priest stood at the side to keep the charcoal alight, and to serve the incense to such as desired to do homage to the god.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[pg 263]the latter turned to the Augustalflamen, saying:“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[pg 264]pursued he ran, then turned sharply, put his hands on the back of the bull, and leaped over it.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 thevivariumand brought forth the prisoners. These consisted of the taverner who had murdered his guests, the manumitted slave who had robbed his master, Baudillas, Marcianus and Perpetua.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[pg 265]whether they remained cool and callous. This gave a cruel zest to their enjoyment.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 marblepodium, and looked contemptuously around him at the occupants of the tiers of seats.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[pg 266]ants to goad the bear. They obeyed, and he turned and growled and struck at them, but would not touch the man designed to be hugged by him.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[pg 267]as yet strewn over with fresh sand. He cast a furtive look at the altar, then made an appealing gesture to the magistrate.“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[pg 268]address was understood, and produced a deafening, a furious roar of remonstrance.“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[pg 269]only. Their red eyes, their gleaming teeth filled the wretched man with fresh terror, and again he ran.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![pg 270]CHAPTER XXIIITHE CLOUD-BREAKThe 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.”[pg 271]“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[pg 272]were charged with aiding and abetting sacrilege. You refused to sacrifice to the genius of the Emperor. Well, if you will cast a few grains of incense in the fire, I will let you depart.”“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.Flamen, hand the shell with the grains to this sensible fellow.”“I cannot offer sacrifice.”“You are guilty of treason against Cæsar if you[pg 273]refuse to sacrifice to his genius. Never mind about Nemausus, whose image is there. Say—the genius of Cæsar, and you are quit.”“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.[pg 274]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.”[pg 275]“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 tobelief,”he turned to his fellow-magistrate, and said, laughing,“listen to this man. He talks of belief, as though that were a necessary ingredient in worship! Thou, with thy[pg 276]plum-colored nose, hast thou full faith in Æsculapius to cure thee even of a chilblain?”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.[pg 277]“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.”[pg 278]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, theabsenceof all miraculous incident, did not suit the taste of mediæval compilers, and they systematically interpolated the earlier acts with harrowing details and records of marvels. Nevertheless, a certain number of these acts remain uncorrupted, and with regard to the rest it is not difficult to separate in them that which is fictitious from that which is genuine. Such notaries were admitted to the trials and executions with as much indifference as would be newspaper reporters nowadays.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[pg 279]of Ad Fines to the temple of the god Nemausus, with the villa upon it, and statues and works of art.”“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 Augustalflamenand the other pontiffs.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[pg 280]he assured her that his whole life would be devoted to her service.“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.“Executioners, do your duty,”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[pg 281]them at each end. The structure stood on four legs, two at each extremity, spreading at the base. Halfway down, between these legs, at the ends, was a roller, furnished with levers that passed through them. A rope was attached to the ankles, another to the wrists of the person extended on the back of the“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[pg 282]going this agony. Bets had been made on her constancy, bandied about, taken, and booked. Castor stood up, with face turned to heaven, and extended arms, praying.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,[pg 283]“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 thepodiumand grasped the marble top with one hand.[pg 284]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,[pg 285]faster, ever faster. And now it was as though a white bridal veil had been let down out of heaven to hide from the eyes of the ravening multitude the spectacle of the agony of Christ’s martyr. None could see across the arena; soon none could see obscurely into it. The snowflakes fell thick and dense, they massed as a white cornice on the parapet, they dropped on every head, they whitened the bloodstained, trampled sand. And all fled before the snow. First went a few in twos or threes; then whole rows stood up, and through the vomitories the multitude poured—freedmen, slaves, knights, ladies,flamines, magistrates; none could stand against the descending snow.“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[pg 286]his. She looked him in the face and smiled. Then she said:“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.12

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[pg 257]weather. Unless the mistral ceased and the rain passed away, it would be impossible for the sports to be held. It was true that the entire oval could be covered in by curtains and mats, stretched between poles, but this contrivance was intended as shelter against sun and not rain. Moreover, the violence of the wind had rendered it quite impossible to extend the curtains.

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[pg 258]men were beginning to exhibit a power of control.

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[pg 259]would eventually be able to wrest the control of the municipal government from those who had hitherto exercised it.

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 therobur, but had escaped, was also to be brought out and executed, as having assisted in the rescue of Perpetua from the fountain, but chiefly for having connived at the crime of Falerius Marcianus.

To the general satisfaction, the wind fell as suddenly as it had risen, and that on the night preceding[pg 260]the sports. The weather remained bitterly cold, and the sky was dark with clouds that seemed ready to burst. Not a ray of sunlight traveled across the arena and climbed the stages of the amphitheater. The day might have been one in November, and the weather that encountered on the northern plains of Germania.

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 thepodiumor breastwork confining the arena, were those for the municipal dignitaries, for the priests, and for certain strangers to whom seats had been granted by decree of the town council. Here might be read,[pg 261]“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 thepodiumat one end, and at the other the master of the games and his attendants, the prefect of the watch and of the firemen.

Two doors, one at each end, gave access to the arena, or means of exit. One was that of thevivarium, whence the gladiators and prisoners issued from a large chamber under the seats and feet of the spectators. The other door was that which conducted to thelibitinum, into which were cast the corpses of men and the carcasses of beasts that had perished in the games.

Immediately below the seat of the principal magistrates and of the pontiffs was a little altar, on[pg 262]the breastwork about the arena, with a statue of Nemausus above it; and a priest stood at the side to keep the charcoal alight, and to serve the incense to such as desired to do homage to the god.

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[pg 263]the latter turned to the Augustalflamen, saying:“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[pg 264]pursued he ran, then turned sharply, put his hands on the back of the bull, and leaped over it.

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 thevivariumand brought forth the prisoners. These consisted of the taverner who had murdered his guests, the manumitted slave who had robbed his master, Baudillas, Marcianus and Perpetua.

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[pg 265]whether they remained cool and callous. This gave a cruel zest to their enjoyment.

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 marblepodium, and looked contemptuously around him at the occupants of the tiers of seats.

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[pg 266]ants to goad the bear. They obeyed, and he turned and growled and struck at them, but would not touch the man designed to be hugged by him.

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[pg 267]as yet strewn over with fresh sand. He cast a furtive look at the altar, then made an appealing gesture to the magistrate.

“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[pg 268]address was understood, and produced a deafening, a furious roar of remonstrance.

“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[pg 269]only. Their red eyes, their gleaming teeth filled the wretched man with fresh terror, and again he ran.

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!

[pg 270]CHAPTER XXIIITHE CLOUD-BREAKThe 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.”[pg 271]“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[pg 272]were charged with aiding and abetting sacrilege. You refused to sacrifice to the genius of the Emperor. Well, if you will cast a few grains of incense in the fire, I will let you depart.”“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.Flamen, hand the shell with the grains to this sensible fellow.”“I cannot offer sacrifice.”“You are guilty of treason against Cæsar if you[pg 273]refuse to sacrifice to his genius. Never mind about Nemausus, whose image is there. Say—the genius of Cæsar, and you are quit.”“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.[pg 274]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.”[pg 275]“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 tobelief,”he turned to his fellow-magistrate, and said, laughing,“listen to this man. He talks of belief, as though that were a necessary ingredient in worship! Thou, with thy[pg 276]plum-colored nose, hast thou full faith in Æsculapius to cure thee even of a chilblain?”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.[pg 277]“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.”[pg 278]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, theabsenceof all miraculous incident, did not suit the taste of mediæval compilers, and they systematically interpolated the earlier acts with harrowing details and records of marvels. Nevertheless, a certain number of these acts remain uncorrupted, and with regard to the rest it is not difficult to separate in them that which is fictitious from that which is genuine. Such notaries were admitted to the trials and executions with as much indifference as would be newspaper reporters nowadays.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[pg 279]of Ad Fines to the temple of the god Nemausus, with the villa upon it, and statues and works of art.”“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 Augustalflamenand the other pontiffs.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[pg 280]he assured her that his whole life would be devoted to her service.“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.“Executioners, do your duty,”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[pg 281]them at each end. The structure stood on four legs, two at each extremity, spreading at the base. Halfway down, between these legs, at the ends, was a roller, furnished with levers that passed through them. A rope was attached to the ankles, another to the wrists of the person extended on the back of the“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[pg 282]going this agony. Bets had been made on her constancy, bandied about, taken, and booked. Castor stood up, with face turned to heaven, and extended arms, praying.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,[pg 283]“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 thepodiumand grasped the marble top with one hand.[pg 284]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,[pg 285]faster, ever faster. And now it was as though a white bridal veil had been let down out of heaven to hide from the eyes of the ravening multitude the spectacle of the agony of Christ’s martyr. None could see across the arena; soon none could see obscurely into it. The snowflakes fell thick and dense, they massed as a white cornice on the parapet, they dropped on every head, they whitened the bloodstained, trampled sand. And all fled before the snow. First went a few in twos or threes; then whole rows stood up, and through the vomitories the multitude poured—freedmen, slaves, knights, ladies,flamines, magistrates; none could stand against the descending snow.“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[pg 286]his. She looked him in the face and smiled. Then she said:“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.12

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[pg 272]were charged with aiding and abetting sacrilege. You refused to sacrifice to the genius of the Emperor. Well, if you will cast a few grains of incense in the fire, I will let you depart.”

“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.Flamen, hand the shell with the grains to this sensible fellow.”

“I cannot offer sacrifice.”

“You are guilty of treason against Cæsar if you[pg 273]refuse to sacrifice to his genius. Never mind about Nemausus, whose image is there. Say—the genius of Cæsar, and you are quit.”

“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 tobelief,”he turned to his fellow-magistrate, and said, laughing,“listen to this man. He talks of belief, as though that were a necessary ingredient in worship! Thou, with thy[pg 276]plum-colored nose, hast thou full faith in Æsculapius to cure thee even of a chilblain?”

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, theabsenceof all miraculous incident, did not suit the taste of mediæval compilers, and they systematically interpolated the earlier acts with harrowing details and records of marvels. Nevertheless, a certain number of these acts remain uncorrupted, and with regard to the rest it is not difficult to separate in them that which is fictitious from that which is genuine. Such notaries were admitted to the trials and executions with as much indifference as would be newspaper reporters nowadays.

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[pg 279]of Ad Fines to the temple of the god Nemausus, with the villa upon it, and statues and works of art.”

“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 Augustalflamenand the other pontiffs.

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[pg 280]he assured her that his whole life would be devoted to her service.

“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.

“Executioners, do your duty,”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[pg 281]them at each end. The structure stood on four legs, two at each extremity, spreading at the base. Halfway down, between these legs, at the ends, was a roller, furnished with levers that passed through them. A rope was attached to the ankles, another to the wrists of the person extended on the back of the“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[pg 282]going this agony. Bets had been made on her constancy, bandied about, taken, and booked. Castor stood up, with face turned to heaven, and extended arms, praying.

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,[pg 283]“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 thepodiumand grasped the marble top with one hand.

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,[pg 285]faster, ever faster. And now it was as though a white bridal veil had been let down out of heaven to hide from the eyes of the ravening multitude the spectacle of the agony of Christ’s martyr. None could see across the arena; soon none could see obscurely into it. The snowflakes fell thick and dense, they massed as a white cornice on the parapet, they dropped on every head, they whitened the bloodstained, trampled sand. And all fled before the snow. First went a few in twos or threes; then whole rows stood up, and through the vomitories the multitude poured—freedmen, slaves, knights, ladies,flamines, magistrates; none could stand against the descending snow.

“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[pg 286]his. She looked him in the face and smiled. Then she said:“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.12

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