San-Polo took the lieutenant's sword, pulled the knot off, and hastily handed it to me; then springing into the saddle he rode off at full gallop, without speaking a word or even turning his head.
"Quick, Brocard! Mount and accompany the colonel," I said. "You know how dangerous those guerillas are even in a rout. I shall not need you until we return to Mora."
"And now that I have ended," said the general after a pause, "let us talk, if you please, about the rain and the weather. It is strange," he continued, pressing his hand to his brow, "how all these memories return, at the time when, thank God, our days of joy and trouble are nearly past."
"Yours?" the government clerk hastened to reply. "You are good for twenty years yet."
There are some honest people who always speak thus to old men.
"Good! very good!" growled the general, bending over the table to pour out another wine-glass of cognac. "In twenty years I will be no more thought of than if I had never lived. To the devil with wars and those who make them."
While his daughter and son-in-law were lifting their voices in protest against such an idea, I discreetly took up the lamp, and approached the frame to examine it more closely.
"These, very probably," I said, half to myself, "are the watch of the grenadier Gasparini, the cross of the sergeant-major Gambetta, and sword-knot of Lieutenant Polidoro."
"Yes, yes," replied the general, without looking toward them; "I bought the watch and the cross from the drummer Zanetto. Poor child! The first bullet sent him to his account in the assault on Fort Olivo, the 29th of May, before Tarragona. For goodness' sake, let it alone."
I saw that my curiosity made him impatient, so I returned the lamp and took up my hat to retire.
"You are leaving us very soon, my friend," said the general.
"You know, general, that I must be home by half-past nine."
"Right. Duty before all. I hope you don't intend to put all I have said upon paper."
"You have authorized me to do so, general."
"So be it, then; but upon one condition."
"Name it."
"That you will add nothing of your own to it, as most of you men of letters do; and that you will not pervert my words."
"I will try not to do so."
Toward evening of the 12th of March we doubled Cape Finisterre, the north-western extremity of Spain, and saw in the misty offing a very large four masted iron screw steamer, homeward bound, and said to be from Australia. We had but once seen the Spanish coast looming through the fog several leagues off; but at sunrise on the 14th we forgot all the miseries of the previous four days, as the sea was quite smooth, the weather admirable, and a scene of unequalled beauty unrolled itself before our eager gaze. We were entering the Tagus: on our left, at the river's mouth, stood the castle of St. Julian, apparently not a very ancient or remarkable structure. We had passed in the night, also on the left, the far-famed wood-crowned hills and picturesque glens of Cintra, so beautifully sung by Lord Byron in Childe Harold. Further on jutted into the stream the yellow-walled old Moorish fortalice of Belem, so often depicted, and so worthy of it. Its many lights and shadows, as the sunlight plays on its richly sculptured front, give it a strangely quaint and old-world appearance. Its garrison, a mere company or so, appeared to enjoy a sinecure; for I beheld a single sentinel lazily pacing up and down a narrow landing-place. Others were fishing with a rod and line, and a few more washing in the stream their seemingly unique shirts, for they wore no other clothing that I could see, save a pair of white canvas trowsers. This scene I saw repeated a few weeks later in the Brazilian island of Sancta Catharina, where a squad of black soldiers were washing their shirts and trowsers in the waters of a small mountain stream. From the castle of Belem the view eastward up the river is one of the most beautiful that can be imagined, and seems at first fully to justify the pride of the Portuguese lines:
"Quem nâo tem visto Lisboa,Nâo tem visto cousa boa."
That is, he has not seen a beautiful sight who has not seen Lisbon. The river, considerably narrowed at its extreme mouth, widens here very much, and displays on its broad surface a forest of masts. On the left hand the city rises from the water's edge up an amphitheatre of seven hills, house upon house, church upon church, filling up an irregular semicircle of considerable extent, and having for a frame the surrounding green heights, whose tender spring verdure, here and there enlivened by the blooming Judas-tree, [Footnote 299] agreeably contrasts with the dazzling whiteness of most of the edifices. To the westward of the city sits the imposing mass of the modern and yet unfinished royal palace of Ajuda; and beneath it, near the waterside, an old convent and church, whose gray weather-beaten walls seem to bid defiance to the mushroom structure above. This palace of Ajuda will probably never be finished. The finances of that puny kingdom are not, I imagine, in the most prosperous condition; and it would appear that modern royalty is as little at ease in residences fashioned upon the grandeur and magnificence of ancient days, as a beggar would be if he suddenly became the owner and tenant of a nobleman's seat.
[Footnote 299: A tree with pendulous bunches of pink flowers. It is probably so called from its blooming about Passion-tide. Some say that it was on a tree of this species that Judas hanged himself.]
On the southern side of the Tagus are to be seen scattered here and there pleasantly enough among the green hills various white-walledquintas, or country farm-houses and villas. There is also, facing Lisbon, a small town of three or four thousand inhabitants. A little lower down toward the sea, on the same side, is the new Lazaretto, or building for quarantine—a certainly not very inviting abode, all white and yellow, without a particle of verdure or a square inch of shade about it. The harbor or bay, four or five miles wide, contains ships of almost every nation; but chiefly British, for Portugal is now little better than a colony or dependency of England. The Magdalena had no sooner cast anchor than two of the respected clergy of the English college—the collegedos Inglesinhos, (of the dear English,) as the people call them—came on board to welcome me. I accompanied them ashore, and visited the college, situated on one of the highest spots of the city. On my way through the custom-house I saw a piece of impertinence committed by one of the underlings in the absence of his principal, which too well indicated the little respect which is now paid to the holy see in that once so Catholic kingdom. A secretary of the Brazilian nunciature, on his way to Rio, had landed with a small bag containing despatches sent by Cardinal Antonelli to the nuncio at Lisbon. Ambassadors' papers are privileged everywhere; nevertheless, in spite of the secretary's remonstrances and mine, the said underling broke open one of the sealed packets, and would doubtless have proceeded further had not Padre Pedro, of the English college, at that moment arrived, and threatened the insolentdouanierwith the loss of his place. I don't know if the nuncio took any notice of the affair; but where could such a proceeding have taken place save in Lisbon, or perhaps in Florence?
Facing the harbor, in the Praça do Commercio, is a handsome bronze statue of one of the former kings of Portugal, whose proud and commanding attitude half recalled the times when Portugal was mistress of the seas, and her adventurous navigators pioneered the way through unknown oceans to discoveries of stupendous magnitude.
The English fathers, the Revs. ——, showed me more than ordinary politeness: one of them accompanied me to present sundry letters of introduction I had brought with me to some notable personages of the capital. I was very cordially received everywhere, and could have wished that all the Portuguese resembled these worthy representatives of former national greatness. The Marqueza de F——, among others, appeared to me the model of a hidalgo's wife, full of grace and dignity, yet of amenity and practical good sense. I was particularly struck with her fervid piety, worthy of better times. At the house of the Marquess de L——, brother to the Portuguese minister in London, I met the newly consecrated Bishop of Oporto, who, to an ardent zeal and piety, joined the precious experience of thirty years' apostolate in China as a Lazarist missionary. He has since made his voice heard to some purpose in the upper house of the Lisbon parliament, strenuously resisting and combating the antichristian measures of the Louié ministry.
Some of the churches, of course, I visited, as far at least as the shortness of time allowed. They bore for the most part traces of the magnificence and gorgeous piety of other days; but were generally ill kept, and but too empty of worshippers. The chapter mass was being chanted when I entered the Primatial church; there were very few people assisting; near the door stood some poor women with dead babes laid on benches; they did not seem to be noticed by any one.
If the exterior aspect of Lisbon is truly magnificent, a nearer view of that capital takes away all illusion. I afterward found this to be the case also with many of the Brazilian cities.Nature has done wonders for most of these towns, but man seems to have made it his especial purpose to sully and disfigure everything. If we except some really very fine buildings and noble historic monuments, all in Lisbon is squalid, neglected, and ruinous. Most of the streets, rebuilt so lately as eighty years ago, after the great earthquake, are narrow, tortuous, ill-paved, and more than ordinarily dirty and fetid. The same may be said of the houses, even of palaces of great noblemen, in which, in spite of imposing architectural splendor, and traces of former sumptuousness, the olfactory sense is frequently annoyed by indescribable odors of stables or worse things. Sanitary commissions would assuredly be driven mad if at work in that city for any time. The noisy bustle of a great capital always gives, more or less, an appearance of energetic life to its indwellers; but after London, Paris, or even Madrid, Lisbon appears dead. It is the torpid metropolis of a degenerate people.
On the 21st at sunrise we cast anchor in the fine bay of St. Vincent, one of the Cape de Verde Islands, and a coaling station for steamers. It is a volcanic rock of frightful sterility, but possesses a wide, deep, and secure harbor of considerable resort for ships navigating on the African coast. Everything is brought thither from the neighboring island of Sant' Antonio—water, oranges, bananas, yams, sugar-canes, and other productions—for the place yields absolutely nothing, save a little brackish water in a couple of wells. Its sole inhabitants are a few score of starving-looking negroes, a few lean pigs, fowls, and goats. I saw, soaring high among the mountains, a kind of vulture with a large yellow beak, but wondered where that bird and its possible fellows would find anything to eat, unless it came across from the neighboring islands. For there is no sign whatever of vegetation or of wild animal life on this spot, where it is said never to rain. The soil is reddish, and perpetually calcined by the intolerable fierceness of an almost equatorial sun. He ought not to complain of heat in Europe who has once visited St. Vincent. One of my voyaging companions, the secretary of nunciature at Rio, the Rev. Monsignore ——, who had come directly from Rome, was sighing and groaning under the oppression of that fiery clime. The good man had, by some mischance, left his baggage behind, and had no other clothing to wear but a long black coat of a coarse and thick texture that would have done him fair service amidst the snows of Canada—but here in St. Vincent! He must have had a vivid anticipation of purgatory, I am sure; his distress was very comical, and he could not relieve it by lighter clothing until we reached Bahia. Far more at their ease were the dozen or two of little blacks, perfectly naked, who played on the smooth sandy shore, jumping and tumbling in and out of the waves, just like our own children in the new-mown hay at home in the summer-time.
There may be at St. Vincent four or five score of so-called houses of most wretched appearance, a set of stone-built barracks tenanted by a company or so of Portuguese soldiers, and a small fort on a hillock, overlooking and commanding the bay. Three or four sickly-looking palm-trees, brought from Portugal, endeavor to grow in front of the government house. A small church has recently been built, and is served by a black priest, who managed to raise the funds for its erection by begging on board every ship which came into the harbor. To the right on entering the harbor is a mountain of somewhat fantastic form. American imagination has found in its outline some resemblance to Washington's profile, and it has in consequence been called "Washington's Head." Right in the middle of the entrance of the bay, and darkly outlined against the frowning cliffs of Sant' Antonio, is a tall conical rock of remarkable appearance. It is a capital landmark, being seen seaward at a very great distance.When we entered the harbor, we found at anchor, among other vessels, a large Federal steam-frigate, which had been there four months watching the arrival of the famous Alabama. Within the spacious bay disported two whales, mother and cub, which were pursued for several hours, but in vain, by the native fishermen.
We most gladly bade farewell to the desolate isle of St. Vincent, and fairly sailed away for the New World, yet distant from us six or seven hundred leagues. The heat now began to be terrific, especially at night in the narrow cabins; but it was moderated most days by a gentle breeze, which made lolling on deck in the evenings truly luxurious. About a day's sail from St. Vincent I first noticed shoals of flying-fish, though I believe they are to be found in a much more northerly latitude, and in another voyage I saw some off the isle of Palma. They rise from the sea, chiefly in the early morning and when the surface is freshly rippled, in flocks of ten to sixty or more, and fly close to the surface, often tipping the crest of the wavelets, and skim along with great velocity for the space of five or six hundred yards, when they plunge again into the deep, raising a speck of foam. These small fish, which are said to be of excellent flavor, are about the size of herrings, and of silvery-gray color. I once or twice saw some much larger and almost white on the coast of Brazil, between Bahia and Rio de Janeiro. They are said to be constantly pursued by the bonita, a large fish of the dolphin species, whose hungry maw they try to escape by rising out of the water. But although their flight is exceedingly rapid, their relentless enemy cuts its way through the subjacent waves with equal swiftness, and is ready for the tiny victims as they drop exhausted into the sea. There appear to be prodigious numbers of them all over the ocean; and nearer the coast of Africa the sea is sometimes covered for miles and miles with their spawn lying on the smooth surface like the duck-weed of our ponds. In this latitude, and for many days, I also noticed swimming along in the smooth transparent waters the gay-looking dorado, a large fish vividly reflecting the sun's rays from its scaly back, all over green and gold. Sharks I was anxious to see, but none appeared throughout the voyage; scared away, I should imagine, by the noise and turmoil of the paddle-wheels.
We had fallen into the region of the trade-winds, which blew steadily from the north-east, wafting us rapidly over the middle Atlantic; we were eight days reaching Pernambuco. I was surprised to meet with so few ships on the way, yet we must have crossed the high road of a great multitude of vessels outward or homeward bound. This apparent scarcity of ships gave me a vivid idea of the immensity of the ocean, on whose pathless surface so many sail wander, lost like imperceptible specks of dust on the plain. In this great solitude, life on board ship is monotonous enough, and by its wearisomeness almost justifies the snarling saying of Dr. Johnson: "Sir, I would rather be in jail than on board of a ship, where you have the confinement of a prison together with the chance of being drowned." Want of space, even in the largest vessels, the impossibility of applying one's self to serious occupation, to study, or to prayer, for want of quiet solitude, and also on account of the rolling of the ship, which greatly fatigues the head—all this makes one sigh for the end of the voyage, and find a lively interest in the most trifling occurrences—the passing of a distant sail, the flight of a bird, and so forth. It is especially in the evenings—and they are long ones in the tropics—that time appears heavy, unless one be inclined to enter into all the frivolous and noisy amusements set on foot to beguile weariness. The passengers dance, play games, improvise concerts, and especially eat and drink enormously, and almost all day long. How wearisome former sea-voyages must have been, which lasted many months, sometimes even several years! It is related, for example, in Captain Cook's voyages that some of his crew once lost their wits for joy on seeing the land they had not beheld for eighteen months.
A few degrees before we crossed the line, the sky became overcast with heavy dark clouds, which French sailors call "le pot du noir" and our English tars "the doldrums;" the barometer ceased to indicate any atmospheric changes. It was on the 26th, in the evening, we passed the equator, and for more than forty hours we had violent squalls and occasional tremendous downpourings, which made us all uncomfortable: for staying on deck was out of the question, and the heat below was very oppressive. Flocks of a species of large wild goose, which came flying round the ship, announced the proximity of the land; and on the 28th toward dusk we passed off the rocky and picturesque island of Fernando de Noroñha. It was at too great a distance to distinguish anything, but it is said to contain features of great natural beauty. This island is now used as a place of transportation for the convicts of Brazil. These were formerly detained in the southern island of Sancta Catharina; but that spot afforded the prisoners too many facilities of escape, being so near the mainland, and within easy reach of the foreign state of the Banda Oriental. I could collect but meagre notions concerning the number and the lot of the unhappy convicts, mostly all blacks, who have only exchanged one kind of slavery and labor for another. In most cases, when the crime committed has not been of the most heinous nature, the convict after a year or two's confinement is drafted into the army or navy. I have heard officers of both services bitterly complain of this system. The island of Noroñha is mountainous, and difficult of access.
At last, on Sunday, March the 29th, at sunrise, we touched the New World, and the Magdalena cast anchor in Pernambuco roads, about three miles from the land, for the harbor, whose entrance is narrow besides, is inaccessible to ships of large tonnage. The fishermen of this place boldly navigate in those roads, and sometimes many leagues into the offing, on strange-looking and perilous rafts made of a few crossed bamboo-sticks, somewhat resembling the catamarans used at Madras. It is inconceivable how those daring sailors are not devoured by the sharks off those flimsy machines, which the least wave upsets. It does not much concern them when this happens, for they all swim like fishes, and the tiny craft is soon put to rights again. There is, however, a tradition in the port that once upon a time a man was snatched off his dancing catamaran by a monstrous shark, which devoured him before the eyes of his affrighted companions. Pernambuco is a place of great trade, the third city in the Brazils for population and the importance of its productions: it is one of the great sugar-markets of the world. It possesses some good churches and public buildings, and a school of law, the first in the empire, where Pombalist and Jansenistic traditions have obtained much less adhesion than at Sao Paolo or Bahia. A thesis was maintained there with great applause a short time ago, which astonished all the lawyers of Brazil, namely, that the pope needed not a general council to decide infallibly any doctrine of faith; hisipse dixitwas sufficient; and all true Catholics ought at once to bow interiorly and exteriorly to it as to the word of Christ himself. This was probably the first time this had been so boldly proclaimed in South America since the banishment of the Society of Jesus.
The town is cut up by a number of lagoons, crossed over by bridges like at Venice; and its first aspect from the sea reminds one very much of Hamburg. There is, of course, the difference of a glowing sky and large tropical vegetation. The land lies low, and the presumption is that it must be unhealthy; but it is not so, I believe, owing to the regular sea-breezes, which greatly cool the air and dissipate the vapors. The heat cannot but be intense at times on a spot only six or seven degrees south of the line.
It is not always easy to land at Pernambuco, for the entrance of the harbor does not give more than fifteen or sixteen feet of water in the best tides; and there lies across it, and for hundreds of miles up and down and parallel with the coast, a dangerous low coral-reef, against which the mighty Atlantic waves dash with fury. This reef, which in many places barely rises above the surface, would prove an excellent defence against invasion; but it was not apparently thought sufficient in former times, for there stands on the beach to the north of the town a square bastioned fort, built by the Dutch under Maurice of Nassau when they occupied the country at the beginning of the seventeenth century. To the north of this again, on a bold rocky hill, is situated the ancient city of Olinda, so called from the exclamations of the first Portuguese discoverers when this enchanting land broke upon their sight: "O linda terra! lindos outeiros!" "O beautiful country, charming hills!" It was formerly a bishop's see and the capital of the country. It contains several churches and convents, as well as old residences of governors and magnates, of a rather massive and imposing architecture. The surrounding country is one vast forest of palm, cocoa-nut, and other trees of the torrid zone. There are many flourishing sugar and coffee plantations, surrounded by nopal and banana groves, and a multitude of superb creepers, amidst whose luxuriant growth and glowing flowers rise the white-walled houses of the owners. As we rode along, we purchased some pine-apples and mangoes of immense size and exquisite flavor. When we returned on board, numbers of Pernambuco boatmen surrounded the ship with loads of oranges and bananas for sale, as well as tame parrots and monkeys; but none of them, with the fear of the sharks before their eyes, would imitate the blacks, whom we had seen at St. Vincent diving into the sea, nine or ten fathom deep, to pick up small pieces of money which the passengers would throw in, to witness their astonishing power of swimming.
From Pernambuco to Bahia we had thirty-six hours' passage. We were not nearer the land than ten or twelve leagues, the Royal Mail Company forbidding their commanders of ships to hug the coast any closer. On the 30th of March, about noon, we met the fine steamer La Navarre, of the French Messageries Company, on its way to Bordeaux. It was crammed full of passengers, among whom I saw several Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul. These venerable religious women serve various hospitals in the Brazils—at Bahia, Rio de Janeiro, and other places. They are everywhere, I need not say, worthy of their holy founder and of their country. They have not escaped, however, in this New World the calumnies and persecutions which they have had to endure in some parts of Europe, and notably in Portugal and Piedmont. Almost the first Brazilian journal I saw contained an infamous diatribe against them; but they would very likely themselves prefer contumely to honor, as assimilating them more perfectly to their Divine Lord, the Man of Sorrows.
At a very early hour on the 31st we doubled the point which juts out on the right of the harbor of Bahia, and the ship fired a gun to announce our arrival. No description can convey a true idea of the beauty of this celebrated bay—Bahia de todos os Sanctos, that is, "All Saints' Bay." Covered to the water's edge with a glowing and gigantic vegetation, the hills which rise above the roadstead are dotted with pretty-looking villas, the residences of the city merchants. It was the commencement of what is here called winter; yet I saw everywhere a superabundance of flowers, especially of roses. Trees with strange forms, fruits yet more strange, a teeming population, two thirds of which at least was composed of negroes, the odd cries and barbarous howlings of these blacks as they hawked their wares or carried, to the number of ten or twelve together, huge burdens swung on the middle of long poles—everything was of a sort to interest a stranger.Carriages there were none, or very few at least; for the city, being built on the steep slope of an abrupt cliff, has no level surface anywhere in its streets, most of which resemble very much the queer uphill lanes leading to Fourvières in the city of Lyons. The intense heat of the atmosphere made me give up the design I had entertained of visiting the town entirely on foot. I hired a kind of bath-chair, of which there are long stands about, and two stout negroes conveyed me successively to the various churches and the public garden of the city. These chairs are very ingeniously contrived to exclude the sun and admit the air, as well as to preserve absolute privacy within them. They swing on a long pole fore and aft, which the blacks carry on their shoulder; but this pole is shaped like an elongated S, to secure the sitter's equilibrium, which would be unpleasantly disturbed by the see-saw tread of the bearers. Notwithstanding the little exercise I took, an abundant perspiration ran from every pore. It was therefore with exquisite pleasure that I came to a house where for a fewvintems( few pence) I could exchange my stewing state for the coolness of a shower-bath. I had previously been told to use the necessary precaution— that is, to rub a small quantity of caixaça, or rum, over my body before coming in contact with the water.
The trade of Bahia appears considerable, and is entirely carried on in the lower town, which stretches along the water-side on the north for more than a league, nearly to the western-most point of the outer bay, crowned by a celebrated sanctuary dedicated to Nossa Señhora do Bom-Fim—Our Lady of the Happy Death. On the eastern promontory of the harbor, on the summit of a bold hill looking upon the Atlantic, is the oldest religious building, perhaps, in all South America. It is the now ruinous church built by an Indian princess, the first of her race who embraced the faith of Christ. The beach below was often hallowed by the footsteps of the venerable Father Anchieta, the apostle of Brazil, who would bare his breast to the sea-breeze to cool the ardor which consumed him for the salvation of souls, and write with a stick on the sand of the shore the beautiful Latin verses he daily composed in honor of the Blessed Mother of God. The blacks still cross themselves at the mention of Padre Anchieta's name, and the country still abounds with traces and monuments of his zeal and wonderful sanctity. The numerous churches of Bahia are generally very richly decorated, but not cleanly kept. I saw some large black rats running across the altar of one of them, most profusely adorned with gilt carving. It was a church dedicated to St. Benedict the Moor, a negro saint from Africa, a monk of the Franciscan order, who lived and died in Sicily, and it is exclusively used by the blacks. A negro priest was loitering about its precincts, and when I told him of the boldness of the aforesaid rats, "We cannot help it, Señor Padre-mestre." he answered; "their numbers are so great we cannot destroy them." The churches have no seats; the men stand round by the side walls, and the womensquatdown on the middle wooden floor. Sometimes, and when the floor is of stone, the ladies are accompanied to church by a female slave carrying a small square carpet, which she lays down for her mistress to sit upon. I saw again here in the cathedral what I had already seen in Lisbon: on a wooden bench near the holy-water vessel close to the door lay several dead babies, shrouded up with the exception of the face, and covered with fresh flowers. The mothers were waiting hard by until a priest should come to recite the funeral prayers. I had at first mistaken these little corpses for waxenexvotos. Thus adorned, death had nothing sad or repulsive about it, especially when I thought that these, were the remains of little angels—anjiñhosthey call them in Brazil—who had flown to heaven with the purity of their baptismal innocence.
The negroes of Bahia are numerous, and the finest in the Brazils. I admire their robust frames, and the seeming indifference with which they carried almost Titanic loads beneath such a burning sun. The landing-place is a perfect Babel; these blacks are so loquacious, and they, moreover, seem to think it adds to their importance to shout as loud as their rough, powerful throats will let them. I have never heard a negro speak to another in a quiet, subdued way. Why should they, indeed? They never attain the sober sense of manhood; they are a mere set of noisy, overgrown children. We had had as a fellow-passenger by the Magdalena, as far as Bahia, a Mr. B——, a little, old Scotchman, long settled in the province of Minasgeraes, who took no small pride in exhibiting a snow-white beard almost a yard in length, and a plentiful crop of hair of the same venerable hue. A sprightly English youth, who was one of the first to land, spread the report among the blacks that we had on board the famous "Wandering Jew." Our ship was soon surrounded by a multitude of boats crammed full of woolly heads, and, when the luckless Scotchman landed, he was, to his dismay, escorted everywhere by a long procession of shouting and screaming blackies. We thought he paid rather dear for his eccentricity.
The market, which was near the landing-place, was abundantly supplied with eatables of every kind; poultry, kids, lambs, sucking-pigs, all alive, and bleating, squeaking, clucking their best; a great variety of fish and fruits; oranges of huge size, called thereseleitas; water-melons, with the red, cool pulp; mangoes, bananas, jacas, a sort of large pumpkins which grow on tall trees, goiavas, and many more species whose mostly Indian names I cannot recollect. With the exception of oranges, limes, and pine-apples, which are superexcellent, the fruits of Brazil do not at first please a European palate. Those of Europe—owing, I suppose, to careful and scientific cultivation—attain a more delicate flavor, if they do not equal the fruits of America in size and color. The same may be said of the flowers, which, with greater size and magnificence of color and form, lack, for the most part, the exquisite perfume which our humblest flowers exhale.
Some brothers came to Abbot Antony, and said: "We wish to hear a maxim from you by which we may save ourselves."
The father said: "You hear the Scriptures, that is enough for you."
"But we wish to hear something from you, father."
"You hear," replied Abbot Antony, "Our Lord saying: 'If any man strike you on the left cheek, turn even the other to him.'"
Said they, "We are not able to do this."
"If you are not able to turn the other cheek, at least bear the one blow patiently."
"We cannot do that," said they.
"If you are not strong enough for that, then do not wish to strike more than you are struck."
"Oh!" said they, "we cannot even do that."
Then the father said to his novice: "Get ready some pap for these brothers, for they are very weak." Then, turning to them, he said: "If you are not able to do even this much, what can I do for you? All that you need is prayer."
About the year ninety-two of the Christian era, Domitian visited the theatre of the Dacian war. Not daring to show himself to the rebel army, he plundered the towns and cities which were left unprotected. Fire and fury surrounded his march; and desolation left its smoking trail behind him. Carrying with him the wealth of the pillaged villages, he returned to Rome. The tact and bravery of Julian, who directed the war against the Dacians, in a few months brought that warlike race to terms. Officially informed of their surrender, Domitian, who had never appeared on the battle-field, decreed himself a triumph such as in by-gone ages were awarded only to the conquerors of great nations. He pompously ordered the temple of Janus to be closed for the third time, we believe, in his reign. Its gates were left open in time of war. Its closing was a sign that universal peace prevailed over the vast area of the Roman empire.
The temple of Janus was closed. But the peace its silent sanctuary represented was like the calm of the sea before being lashed into fury by the flapping wings of the tempest. The surface of the social system, undisturbed by the rebellion of warring tribes or by the clash of arms, was outwardly quiet and even. But the quiet and the evenness were those of the stagnant ocean described by the poet as being overhead covered with smiling ripples and silver sunshine, but underneath filled with filth and corruption and the nameless things bred thereof. Taking the point of view chosen by a great saint, we may well exclaim: "What a spectacle presented itself to the eye of the all-seeing Creator as he gazed downward over that vast empire! What corruption of truth and justice, of morality and religion filled society and corroded its vitals in all its parts! Rotten and rotting systems of philosophy and the monstrous principles and practices born thereof swarmed and spread on every side. It was only natural that the whole corrupted mass would swell and boil with fury as the little yeast of Christian truth destined to impregnate and cure it was being infused."
The temple of Janus was closed. But the man who directed the destinies of the empire was ill at ease. The legions in Gaul and Asia were clamoring for increased pay. He had already, in order to secure their fidelity, raised it from three to four aurei, (about $5.25.) The gigantic and shapeless temples and other structures he erected, together with the enormous outlay on public games and festivals, were a continual drain on the treasury. To procure money he had appointed officials of his own choosing to superintend, increase, and collect the taxes in the provinces and in the city of Rome; creatures like Arthus, who ground the people with iron heel until they bruised out the last cent from their pockets. Arthus was one of the principal of these tax-imposers and tax-gatherers in the city: ambitious of rising higher and higher in the imperial favor, and of out-distancing his fellow-financiers in the neighboring districts, he spent all his time and attention which were not engaged in building up and pulling down parts of the labyrinthine temple, of which we have in the last chapter spoken, in devising plans for raising money.After bath and dinner he was to be seen each day for hours with his hand upon his head concocting schemes as to the best and most expeditious way of putting his hand in the pockets of the poor, plundered plebeians. The client who came to propitiate the great man by a money-offer was received with courteous words and slippery smiles. But if it were a wretched wife pleading for a husband and family, whose last obolus was given already, she was received with insult and turned, if not kicked, from the door, carrying with her the fear of the unrelenting tyrant hanging like midnight upon her soul!
The Jews in these as in our own times had more than an ordinary repute for, and possessed more than an ordinary share of, the money-bags. Arthus had suggested a tax to be levied on them for the right of residence in Rome. This proved a mine of supply during many years for the emperor. Another suggestion of Arthus had been an edict of persecution against the Christians, which would at once enable the cunning official to seize on and confiscate all their property. The exhausted condition of the treasury, together with what we are about relating, combined in bringing forth the edict.
At an early hour of the day, in the morning of which we have seen Aurelian at the Christian meeting, he sought the imperial palace. He had not changed his dress of the day before, and he betrayed by his hurried step and restless eye the deep excitement of his feelings.
When admitted into the emperor's presence, he described what he had witnessed in the catacombs. The number and the rank in society of those present at the Christian assemblage were painted in colors heightened by his imagination and fears. The words of consecration which he had heard were instanced as undeniable proof of the truth of the rumors circulated about the murder of infants and participation of human blood and flesh by the Christians, The marriage of Flavia and Vitus, as Aurelian believed, was depicted, as well as the part which Theodore, Priscilla, and Clement took in solemnizing it. The emperor seemed wholly overwhelmed. By nature and habit of a very nervous temperament, he was overcome with vague terrors on discovering himself surrounded in his very palace and family by traitors. Vitus and Priscilla! the two most trusted inmates of his household, the most punctual in the discharge of their duties, and the most faithful, as he thought, to his own person! They to be infected with this Christian poison, and principal sharers in these bloody orgies! After them it was easy to belive that many more of his servants and friends were followers and supporters of Christ. Perhaps at that very moment the plots planned in those sacred meetings were at work against his life and crown! Might it not be a clever manoeuvre to have thus entrapped and drugged Flavia in order that, through her popularity and that of her uncle, the Roman people would willingly see the sceptre wrested from his hand and placed in that of the Christian whom she would espouse? Such were the reflections of Domitian in listening to Aurelian's narrative. His full, red face grew fuller and redder; his eyebrows lowered and drew the small eyes deeper under; and his voice, always husky and rough, sounded more huskily and roughly as it fell in short syllables on the ear:
"By the gods—who guard the Roman capitol and state—Aurelian—we must burn out this nest of insects—crawling in the earth—and seeking to sting us in our very palace—" He paused for breath, which came and went in asthmatic style, between groups of three or four words. Striking a gong, he ordered one of the courtiers to send for Arthus. But that obsequious functionary was already in attendance at the palace and soon appeared. With a peculiar, twitching motion of the hands, and feet, and head, and with dress swaying in unison with the nervous motion of his body, Arthus approached and knelt before Domitian.
"Arthus!" said the latter, "before the vesper hour—let the edict already drafted against the Christians—be posted in the plain of Mars and let copies of it be sent to the Asiatic, Gallic, and African cities!" Then addressing Aurelian, "We shall ourselves—send a guard for the ladies—Theodora and Flavia—as well as for Clement and the others—you mentioned, and have them with Vitus and Priscilla—examined and punished in our own presence."
On the evening of the 25th of December, the tablets on which the edict was graven were placed in the Campius Martins. Then there arose through the city sounds of commotion and woe, such as might arise if it were besieged by a hostile army, or if the Gauls were once again calling for the surrender of its keys. There was a hurrying to and fro of citizens in fear or in fury, of soldiers and civic officials, of informers, accusers, and accused, many of whom were before night dragged from their peaceful hearths and families to the public tribunals. Many Christians were also put to death. Through the darkness, as it fell like a pall on that scene of excitement and suffering, the yelling of the mob was heard for many miles as they surged through the streets and assailed the houses of the suspected. The thirst for plunder and for blood, the awful rumors afloat, and believed, of the Christian assemblies, and the thousand petty motives of jealousy, envy, and hatred by which wicked men are often influenced against their honest, virtuous neighbors, gave energy to the infuriate passions of the populace. Throughout the night and the following days they did not rest from their unhallowed work. Women and children as well as men were seized and carried before the prefect or into the chamber of tortures, where the brute-crowd shouted and cheered as they saw the martyrs writhing on the rack or on the gridiron! However, in these crowds were many of the faithful, who watched the death-scene, treasured each word that passed between the judge and the condemned, and carried away either a sponge soaked in, or a vial filled with, their blood, or some other relics. These trustworthy witnesses wrote down the history of the martyrdom on parchment-rolls, which they gave to the secretaries appointed to revise and take care of them. Thus the first Christian Acts of Martyrs were compiled and preserved.
As soon as the edict was posted, troops on horseback and in vehicles were seen hastening through the streets and gates, and directing their courses along the Appian, Flaminian, and other roads leading to the north, south, east, and west. They carried copies of the edict for the magistrates of the cities on their routes, to be set up in the forums and market-places. Some travelled without stopping, save only for rest or refreshment at the militarystationes, or halting-places along the roads at intervals of twenty or thirty miles. Thepagi, or outlying smaller villages built about central forts or places of defence, were seldom visited by these couriers; because thepagani, or inhabitants of these country villages, were the last to embrace Christianity, and comparatively few of them had been at this early period converted. Quickly and steadily did these messengers of persecution speed on, until the seaports or the mountains were reached. Counting the places at which they rested for the night, from ancient itineraries of the great highways north and south and west, we may compute that in ten days the edict was promulgated at Marseilles, in fifteen at Corinth, in nineteen in Algiers, and in twenty-four in Ephesus and the remote cities of Asia Minor. Quickly and steadily these messengers of woe sped from Rome to the four quarters of the empire; and, as they passed, confusion, agony, and bloodshed were left behind them. Like a stone dropped into calm waters, the bloody edict fell upon the empire in an interval of peace.The circle of consternation and persecution, like the commotion caused by the stone falling into the tranquil waters, became wider and wider as the imperial couriers travelled on, until it surged to the far boundaries of the empire. But, although the servants of the temporal sovereign were thus fleet and active, the messengers of the Lord of hosts were not slow or idle. Ignotus, the Jewish beggar of the Appian Way, was the first to bring word to Pope Clement and the missionaries assembled in the catacombs. The pope had already made his arrangements; the city had been divided into fourteen districts corresponding with its partition under the first emperors; and priests, deacons, laymen, and even women were appointed to watch over the several parts, to find admission, if possible, to the imprisoned confessors and administer the sacraments and other consolations of religion, to note down carefully what took place at their trials and at their execution, and to obtain their bodies, and, if not, whatever relics they could, in order to their decent preservation in the subterranean vaults. Others, principally those who were lame or otherwise maimed, or could easily assume the role of mendicants, were appointed to act as messengers between the city and the catacombs. The more zealous who sighed for martyrdom were restrained and ordered to prepare the niches for the bodies of the martyred. The anxieties of the holy pope and missionaries were not for the preservation of their own lives, but for the perseverance of the faithful and the conversion of the unbelievers. Prayers for this double purpose were appointed to be constantly offered in the collects of the mass and at other times. Oh! how those unselfish, heroic men yearned for the time when the cross of Jesus would be emblazoned on the capitol as a sign that the countless nations and tribes subject to the Roman sway bowed their stubborn necks to the mild yoke it symbolized. Health, wealth, life were nothing in their esteem compared with this glorious result. Clement, in his care of Rome, did not forget the other churches. To the priest Andronicus, who was setting out for his post at Ephesus, he entrusted a letter to the people of Corinth with regard to practices and schisms, which, despite the efforts and letters of St. Paul, still cropped up amongst them. Ignotus, the beggarman of the Appian and Latin Crossway, had meantime turned his face toward Ostia, and long before the moon had crossed the meridian he had warned many Christian communities to prepare for the combat. The messengers of Domitian rested for the night; but Ignotus never stopped day or night until he reached the mines outside Ostia, where many Christians were employed. Before the official announcement of the persecution reached the sea, the docks and vessels were watched by anxious believers, clad in many guises of concealment. Many availed themselves of the earliest craft to cross to Illyricum, Macedonia, Greece, and Asia Minor. In the same way the Christian dwellers beyond the Alps and Pyrenees had due warning before the edict arrived. One herald, like Ignotus, was in every place through which he passed, a centre from which other messengers, like radii, branched out. Thus zeal and charity gave wings to the humble followers of Christ, with which the wealth and power of imperial Rome were not able to arm its servants. Thus, too, Christendom was prepared, as well as it could be, before the vultures pounced upon its entrails. That preparation consisted to a great extent in secreting the rolls of the sacred Scriptures and the consecrated vessels, so that the persecutors might not seize on or desecrate them.
After leaving the Christian assemblage, Sisinnius with his two companions returned to Aurelian's villa, and retired to take a few hours' rest. When he awoke, he was told that Aurelian had driven to Rome.Returning alone, he mused, as he passed through the fields between the Latin and Appian roads, on the events of the previous evening, and determined to say nothing, until he saw how things went on, to his wife or Flavia about what he had witnessed. He found both in the family parlor. There was nothing in their appearance to betray their vigils of the night before, no sign of weariness or excitement. Flavia wore on her head the white veil, and on her finger the ring, with which Clement had invested her. A spirit of peace, joy, and happiness indescribable beamed, like a light through a lamp, through her face and whole being. Theodora seemed also happy. As the husband opened the door of the room, he saw her on her knees, and heard his own name mentioned in earnest tones by her as she supplicated God for his conversion and salvation. Standing for a moment in the half-open door-way, he gazed with a feeling of veneration on his young wife and her companion, as the rays of the sun slanting through a window fell upon their earnest faces and surrounded their kneeling figures with a balmy radiance. Silently and instinctively he joined them in spirit, asking for full light to know and believe the truth.
Neither Sisinnius nor the inmates of his house had heard anything about the persecution until twilight, when they were visited by a troop of the imperial guard, led by Arthus. With his usual hurried gait and style, that functionary explained how he had been commissioned by the emperor to escort Theodora and Flavia to Domitian's palace. Sisinnius expressed his surprise that it was deemed fitting or necessary to send a guard for noble ladies, when an invitation or a message would have sufficed.
"Excuse me, noble Sisinnius, if I arouse your fears or pain your feelings. You are not aware, perhaps, that an edict against the Christians has been this afternoon promulgated from the capital and on the plain of Mars. The two noble dames have been accused of belonging to the Christian conspiracy, and having been present early this morning at their secret meeting!"
This was said by Arthus in a tone of malicious insolence, which Sisinnius at another time would have subdued with contempt. But the tidings fell like a lightning-stroke upon him, paralyzed his self possession, and filled him with vague fears for his wife and her young friend.
"Please to rest," he said to Arthus, "for a few minutes in the atrium while the ladies get ready to accompany you." Then re-entering the parlor, he cautiously broke to them the news. But it had no effect on them as it had on him. They glanced smilingly at each other, and exclaimed, "Thanks to God," and announced their readiness to depart. Sisinnius urged Flavia to change her dress; but she declined.
"But this dress," he urged, "will witness against you and be your condemnation."
"Then I shall retain it. It is my bridal dress: is it fitting for the bride to leave it aside when going to meet her spouse?"
Addressing himself to Theodora, he found her of the same mind as Flavia.
"Alas! my poor wife!" he exclaimed, embracing her, "you too are resolved to die! Our lives have hitherto flowed along purely and musically as two streams which unite their currents and go laughing through the summer meadows. But we have reached the edge of a precipice, and may be separated for ever by death. I know the tiger-nature of Domitian. But I must gird myself to propitiate him. Oh! tell me that you will renounce this Christian sect! otherwise I have little hope."
"You know not, dear Sisinnius, what, you ask. Death shall not separate those who share in the future resurrection to a glorious immortality. Would you wish your wife to lose her hopes thereof in order to avoid a little temporal punishment? O my husband! I should die happily if I knew that you, too, had acknowledged the one true God and the Saviour of mankind who died to save us from sin and shame. I shall pray with my last breath, with my blood, that God may reveal himself to you.Then we would be again united in the world beyond the grave, never, never to be separated! For there is One above"—she looked and pointed upward, and Sisinnius imagined that there was something more than mortal about her—"there is One above who shall hereafter command the elements and force them to deliver up the portions of these mortal bodies that will have passed into their possession. Fire and water, earth and air, shall obey his order; and the ashes from the urn and the mould in the coffin, and the gaseous vapors in which our burned or corrupting flesh may evaporate will be restored; the bones shall stand up joint over joint in the tombs, and the flesh and nerves and sinews shall reclothe them, and the souls shall enter the arisen tenements of our bodies, and ascend like Jesus, triumphant, after having despised the sting of temporal death and achieved victory over the grave, to enjoy the unending, ineffable bliss prepared for those especially who by their blood confess him before men. Dear Sisinnius, if you be true to your own nature, if you do not stubbornly prevent the light from sinking into your mind and heart, I feel a presentiment that you shall know him, and shall then appreciate the littleness of earthly sufferings and death when endured for his love! Gladly do I proceed to resign the life of my body in order to secure that of my soul, particularly when it is given for him who for me, and for you, too, my husband, permitted himself to be nailed on a cross. With my very blood I shall beseech him to show you how great joy there is in suffering for his name, his person, and his cause. Dearest Lord Jesus!" she fervently prayed, sinking on her knees, "grant your unworthy servant this grace, and strengthen us in the hour of trial and combat to win the martyrs' fadeless palm!"
Sisinnius was affected to tears as he saw such proof of sincere devotion to himself, and at the same time to the religion of Christ. He thought that it could not be the religion it was described to be, when it could thus win and fill with happiness spirits so pure, so high, so unconscious of wickedness as those of Theodora and Flavia Domitilla.
Arthus was impatient. Impatient also was the Emperor Domitian. He was waiting in a large chamber of his palace, where, on an ivory altar, edged with gold, were placed two statues, one of Jupiter and the other of himself. A smoking censer swung in front of the altar, sustained on silver chains attached by a pulley to the ceiling. Soldiers with drawn swords stood in files along the sides of the room, while nearer to the altar were stalwart men, naked to the waist, and holding instruments of torture in their hands. These were Domitian's favorite gladiators, to utter a word against any of whom was certain death. Round their arms the veins and muscles swelled like twisted cords. The emperor was seated on a rich throne, the steps of which he at intervals descended and nervously paced the room. Terror sat on many faces as they saw his sunken eyes and knit brows. Terror, too, was in his own heart as he conjured up before his imagination the wide-spread and the hidden nature of the Christian conspiracy against his throne. Such he assumed it to be. Hence he had now surrounded himself with the gladiators, to whose fidelity and prowess he entrusted his safety against the dagger or the poisoned cup. Aurelian had been commissioned to lead a body of soldiers to the Appian Way, and to arrest Pope Clement and those with him. But he had returned without finding any trace of them, to the great chagrin of himself and the emperor. Those present heard the latter grinding his teeth like small wheels in machinery, and muttering broken curses with livid lips.
When Sisinnius and his party arrived, they were confronted by Vitus and Priscilla.