The vestal Coelia was summoned to undergo her trial before the college
of pontiffs seated in council.
She stood looking pale but undaunted in their presence. The pontiff
Coecus was her judge, and at the same time one of her accusers. With
the others she was not allowed to be confronted.
She acknowledged without hesitation that the sacred fire had gone out
while under her charge, and she condescended so far to defend herself as
to remind Coecus that it was in consequence of his holding her for so
long a time in conversation. She confessed also that she had been
reading a book held in respect by the Nazarenes, and she claimed the
right of a free-born Roman to peruse the work, which was one well known
to be approved of by the emperor.
"You may have a right to read that or any other work, but not to imbibe
the principles of that accursed sect which it advocates," answered
Coecus; "and that you do hold them you have acknowledged to me."
"And I pray for grace that I may hold them to the end," replied Coelia,
looking the pontiff calmly in the face as she held her hands clasped
hanging down before her.
"She admits that the sacred fire was extinguished in consequence of her
carelessness," exclaimed Coecus, turning to the other pontiffs; "nor
does she express the slightest regret at her horrible sin. One guilty
of so terrible a crime is capable of committing any other wickedness,
however odious; and that she has done so, and that she has broken her
vows, has been proved by the witnesses we have examined. That she is no
longer worthy of being numbered among the vestals of Rome, I have
already placed sufficient evidence before you."
Coecus read over the false accusation which had been brought against the
vestal. The guilty participator of her crime had escaped, he observed,
but would undoubtedly be captured. Still, from the oaths of the several
witnesses--which he named--her guilt was evident.
A flush mantled on the brow of the young vestal as she heard herself
accused of a crime so foreign to her nature; yet she did not quail
before that of her stern judge and accuser.
"You know, and these my other judges know, that I am innocent," she
said, in a voice which trembled but slightly. "If I am to be put to
death, I am ready to die, if you have a right to destroy me, as a Roman
maiden, with fame unsullied; I am guilty only of no longer believing in
the goddess to whom in my childhood and ignorance my vows were made. I
confess myself a Christian, and confess also that I desire to escape
from longer serving the false goddess in whom you pretend to believe.
But I indignantly deny the terrible accusation brought against me, which
you yourself know to be utterly false."
"Away with the girl: terror has made her mad!" cried the enraged
pontiff, forgetting the dignity of his position, and shaking his fists
fiercely at the accused maiden.
Coelia did not reply, but raising her hands to heaven--the only time she
had altered the position which she had from the first maintained--she
implored that protection which He in whom she believed was able and
willing to afford.
She did not deign to plead to her cruel judges. She saw clearly that,
for some object of their own, they had pre-determined on her
destruction. She calmly waited to hear what more they had to say.
Coecus, standing up, pronounced her doom--that which from time
immemorial had been inflicted on vestals who had been guilty of breaking
their vows.
Her garments--worn by the vestals--and badges of office were to be taken
from her, and she was to be habited as a corpse, placed in a litter, and
borne through the Forum, attended by her relatives and friends, with all
the ceremony of a real funeral. Then she was to be carried to the
Campus Sceleratus, situated close to the Colline Gate, just within the
city walls. In this spot a small vault underground, as in other cases,
would have been prepared. It would contain a couch, a lamp, and a
table, with a jar of water and a small amount of food.
Had the Pontifex Maximus been in Rome, it would have been his duty to
take a chief part in the ceremony. Having lifted up his hands, he would
have opened the litter, led forth the culprit, and placed her on the
steps of the ladder by which she would be compelled to descend to the
subterranean cell, and he would there have delivered her over to the
common executioner and his assistants. They would lead her down into
her living tomb, draw up the ladder, and then fill in the passage to the
vault with earth so as to make the surface level with the surrounding
ground.
Here the hapless vestal, deprived of all marks of respect ordinarily
paid to the spirits of the departed, would be left to perish miserably
by starvation, should terror not have previously deprived her of life.
Such was the doom pronounced on Coelia.
She heard it unmoved, and walked with unfaltering steps between two of
the officers of the pontiff, to be delivered back to Fausta, the
Vestalis Maxima, who was in waiting to receive her. Not an expression
of pity escaped the lips of the old vestal, although she knew as well as
Coecus that Coelia was innocent of the graver crime of which she was
charged. But her heart had become hardened and scathed; not a grain of
sympathy for her fellow-creatures remained in her bosom.
She believed she was acting in a way pleasing to the goddess she served;
and she would have been ready to sacrifice her nearest relatives, if by
so doing she would have advanced the cause of idolatry. She was aware
that she no longer retained the affection of any of the vestals under
her charge. Marsh and irritable, she ruled them with a rod of iron; and
believed that the service of the temple was never so faithfully
performed as it had been since she became its principal priestess.
Fausta has since had countless imitators, most of whom have been as
completely deceived as she was.
Coelia was conducted back to the cell in which she had before been
confined, beneath the floor of the temple, where only the coarsest
viands were allowed her to sustain nature. She was guarded night and
day by two vestals, who were directed to summon assistance should they
require it. Coecus was satisfied that the death of the vestal would
prove to the multitude that the ancient religion of Rome was still
paramount, notwithstanding the predilections of the emperor in favour of
Christianity, and the privileges he was inclined to grant to the
Nazarenes. He therefore hardened his heart against all feeling of pity
at the terrible fate about to be inflicted on the innocent maiden, and
now prepared, with all the energy of his nature, to make arrangements
for the grand procession about to take place, and which he had resolved
should precede the cruel ceremony he had determined to carry out. He
was well aware that the Emperor Constantine would forbid so barbarous an
act; but as he was engaged in the East in building his new city, it was
impossible for him to hear of it for a long time to come, and although,
when he became cognisant of what had occurred, he would undoubtedly
blame the pontiffs, Coecus believed that he and the other members of the
college had yet sufficient influence in Rome to set even Augustus
himself at defiance.
The day broke bright and beautiful. All the altars in the temples and
the shrines in the streets were gaily decorated with wreaths and
flowers; while banners and gaily-coloured cloths were hung out from the
windows, or over the walls of the private houses, in the streets through
which the procession was to pass. As usual, numbers of religious
mendicants--belonging to a brotherhood devoted to begging--with huge
satchels on their backs, and figures of gods or demigods in their hands,
were on foot, eager to collect contributions from the multitude
assembled on the occasion. The members of several other heathen
brotherhoods also might have been seen hurrying through the city, to
take their part in the spectacle.
Now the procession streamed forth from the temple of Flora, which formed
one of a line of magnificent temples extending from the Flavian
amphitheatre to the north of the Palatine and Capitoline hills--that of
Rome and Venus being the most easterly, and nearest to the amphitheatre.
As it appeared, shouts of joy and applause were raised by the
multitude. There had been no lack of persons ready to perform the duty
of carrying the banners and figures of the gods and the goddesses.
Coecus had also secured the assistance of as large a number of the
female part of the population as he could collect, for he believed that
could he keep them attached to the old faith, there would be less danger
of their husbands becoming its opponents. Some hundreds of dames and
damsels dressed in white, their heads adorned with glittering jewels and
bright wreaths, issued from the temple, scattering handfuls of flowers
before and around them. Bands of musicians performed their most lively
airs suited to the occasion; vast numbers of young children, dressed
likewise in white, with floral ornaments, chanted at intervals hymns in
honour of the goddess. Priests also, of numerous temples, with shorn
crowns, there were, carrying banners or figures of the gods they served,
or sacred relics. The heathen magistrates and officers of state had
willingly consented to attend and exhibit themselves in the procession,
although the Christians had universally refused, under any pretence, to
take a part in the idolatrous performance. Coecus, as he watched the
pageant winding its enormous length along the streets, the banners and
gilded statues glittering in the sun, before he took his accustomed
place with his brother pontiffs, felt satisfied that the larger portion
of the population of Rome still sided with them.
Gaius alone, as he walked along, muttered not a few expressions of
discontent. "To say the least of it, these processions are a bore," he
grumbled. "They may please the mob, but sensible men ridicule them; and
we who superintend them, and have thus to parade through the streets,
have become the laughing-stock of all the wise men and philosophers. It
will in no way benefit us, notwithstanding the trouble we take in the
matter: how completely I have failed of convincing my young nephew of
the advisability of the worship of the immortal gods his running away
and refusing to return is strong evidence. As to putting to death this
poor girl Coelia, I do not half like it. The emperor will visit us with
his anger should her Christian friends prove her innocence, as they are
sure to attempt doing. They are wonderfully active in defending their
own friends, when they can do so by means of the law, without having
recourse to force. This may be on account of their mean and timid
spirits; though it is said that they fight well in battle, and that the
emperor places great dependence on their courage and fidelity. Well,
well, `Times change, and we must change with them,' as one of our poets
sings; but for my part I would rather have retained our old-fashioned
ways. What has endured so long must be the best. The oldest religion
cannot but be the right one, at all events most suited to the multitude,
while it has not failed to bring a copious revenue into our coffers, and
that, after all, is the matter of chief consequence to us. All the
accounts, however, which come from Byzantium show that Augustus is
becoming more and more inclined to favour these Christians. I wish that
Coecus hid not been so obstinate, and would at once have consented to
abandon our failing cause."
When passing close to the Arch of Constantino, which had been erected
after the visit of the emperor to Rome close to the Flavian
amphitheatre, he glanced up at it with a look of contempt. "What can be
expected of our Romans nowadays, when the whole architectural talent of
our city can only produce a monstrosity like that!" he observed to a
brother pontiff walking next to him. "`The times are changed, and we
must change with them,'" he repeated, "if we wish to retain our
position."
The other pontiff only shook his head, and groaned.