As the procession moved along towards the Sacra Via, Gaius observed a
number of persons of a better class standing aloof, and watching it with
looks far removed from admiration. Although the most earnest Christians
kept away from such exhibitions, there were several people of good
position who he knew had embraced the new faith, while there were
others, among whom he recognised a poet, an architect, a sculptor, two
or three philosophers, and some other men of intellect, who, although
not Christians, he suspected had no belief in the immortal gods of Rome,
as they were wont to look with most supreme contempt on spectacles such
as that in which he was taking a part.
"There they stand, sneering at us," he muttered; "perhaps they come to
look as they believe it to be for the last time at our gods and
goddesses parading our city; but they are mistaken,--our old divinities
will hold their places still in the faith and affections of the people,
albeit they may be habited in somewhat different garments."
Now and then the eye of Gaius caught that of some young gallant, who
nodded to him familiarly, and smiled at his evident annoyance as he
endeavoured to keep up his dignity. The procession moved along towards
the Capitoline Hill, on which stood the great temple of Jupiter, where
the chief ceremonies of the day were to be performed. The people waved
garlands, and shouted, the more devout prostrating themselves before the
statues as they passed along, until the hill was gained. Coecus had
taken care to have a large number of animals ready for the sacrifice, so
that the people might not be stinted in their expected portions of meat.
He well knew that they chiefly valued these ceremonies for the food
they were certain to obtain after them.
The procession once more filed off through the streets, depositing the
figures of the gods and goddesses in their respective temples and
shrines; but the business of the day was not over. Coecus and his
brother pontiffs had undertaken to superintend a ceremony of a very
different character.
On arriving at the temple of Vesta they there found Fausta prepared for
the part she was to play. Within the court was seen a litter closely
covered in, borne by men with shrouded faces, and habited in dark robes.
Its appearance was lugubrious in the extreme.
"Have you prepared the guilty creature for her just doom?" asked Coecus
of the Vestalis Maxima.
"She awaits you in her cell," answered Fausta; "but you have not as yet
inflicted the scourging--which, according to the ancient custom, she
should suffer."
"We will omit it in her case," answered Coecus, with whom his brother
pontiffs had previously pleaded, even their minds revolting at causing
one so young and innocent to suffer such degradation. "It would of
necessity have to be inflicted in private; therefore, no one will know
whether or not she has suffered. No object therefore will be gained,"
observed Coecus.
"Are we in these days thus to neglect our ancient customs?" exclaimed
Fausta. "That she is young and beautiful is no reason why she should
escape the punishment which is her due."
The pontiff made no reply; perhaps even he discerned the love of cruelty
which the remark of the ancient priestess exhibited.
"I am thankful I have not to submit to the discipline which the old
virgin is inclined to inflict on her disciples," muttered Gaius. "I
would as lief see a tigress deprived of her cubs placed in charge of a
flock of sheep as a band of young maidens given to the custody of a
bitter old woman like Fausta. If they were not inclined to act
naughtily before, they would be driven to do so, in very despair, when
subject to her tender mercies."
"We can delay no longer," said Coecus to the elder vestal; "let the
criminal be brought forth and placed in the litter."
His orders were obeyed. After a short interval a figure, closely
veiled, in coarse attire, was conducted out, and unresistingly placed in
the litter. Coecus then gave the word to the bearers and attendants to
move on. Fausta and three other vestals accompanied the funeral
procession, but no weeping relatives and friends--as in most instances
would have been the case--followed Coelia. She was alone in the world,
without loving kindred. Her male relations were far away with the
armies of the emperor, and her mother, sisters, and female connexions,
had been removed by death since she, in her extreme youth, had been
dedicated by her heathen father to the service of the goddess.
She was thus considered a fit victim, whose barbarous fate there was no
one to revenge. Marcia had spoken of her as her sister, but she was a
sister only of the affections. Slowly the mournful procession moved on,
and a stranger would have supposed that a corpse was being borne to the
funeral pile; but those who watched at a distance knew well--from the
direction it was taking, to the Campus Sceleratus--that there was a
terrible fate prepared for the occupant of the litter. Such a spectacle
had not been for a long time seen in Rome, and did not fail to attract a
large number of the population.
Gaius, who was looking about him, remarked amongst the crowd a
considerable number of persons whom he knew to be Christians, who walked
along with sad and averted looks. Some he recognised as presbyters and
deacons, and other officers of the Christian Church. He felt no little
surprise at seeing them: he even fancied that he saw the Christian
bishop; but as his costume differed but slightly from the rest of the
people, he was uncertain that such was the case. Me did not feel
altogether satisfied about the matter; but still, as they were unarmed,
he believed that, even should they feel inclined to rescue the doomed
vestal, they would not make the attempt. "What can it mean?" said he to
himself. "I wish that Coecus had left the matter alone; it is my belief
that we shall gain nothing by the death of this young creature, and we
shall have much greater difficulty hereafter, when we pretend to turn
Christians, in persuading these presbyters and others that we are in
earnest. However, it is too late now to expostulate with him. Coecus
is a man who, having once determined on carrying out an object, is not
to be deterred from it." The Campus Sceleratus was at length reached.
It was a gloomy spot, and was called the Campus Sceleratus, because it
was here that vestal virgins convicted of breaking their vows had for
ages past been entombed alive; for even although doomed to this fearful
punishment, they retained the privilege of being interred within the
walls. Ruin and desolation reigned around, for only the poorest and
most abandoned were willing to erect their abodes in the neighbourhood
of a spot deemed accursed. Beyond rose the dark walls erected around
the city--a sign of the degeneracy of the inhabitants, whose breasts and
stout arms in former days had been considered sufficient for its
protection. Near it was the Porta Collina, from whence started two
important roads (the Via Salaria and the Via Nomentana), passing close
to the enormous baths erected by the Emperor Diocletian. Thus, people
from all parts of the city had easy access to the spot. A large crowd
soon collected. Even some of the frequenters of the bath sauntered
forth, prompted by their curiosity to see what was taking place.
Coecus had kept his intention a secret; how it had become known he could
not tell. Although he wished to have some spectators who were likely to
approve of his proceedings, he had no desire to have them witnessed by
so large and mixed a concourse. Still, he was determined to go through
with what he had undertaken.
The litter stopped near the centre of the field, on the summit of a
slight elevation.
The earth turned up in heaps showed the entrance to the horrible tomb
prepared for the hapless vestal. The sun was now sinking behind the
Pincian hill, but still shot forth its rays above the trees which
crowned its summit, and lighted up the dark litter and those who stood
around. In the hollow below were the fossors, with the public
executioner and his attendants, ready to receive the doomed vestal and
to lead her into her tomb. Coecus, who had to perform the part which
would have been taken by the Pontifex Maximus--a dignity long held by
the emperors, as it was still by Constantino--raised his hands to the
skies; but his words, if he uttered any, were not heard. He then gave
directions to the bearers to place the litter on the ground, and
advanced, in order to lead forth his victim. He started back. Without
assistance a figure rose from within, and stepped forth, when, casting
off the dark garment which shrouded her, instead of Coelia, the vestal
Marcia, in her white robes, with a purple fillet encircling her brow,
appeared in all her radiant beauty.
"She whom you cruel men would have destroyed has escaped!" she said.
"Me you cannot accuse of the crime with which you falsely charged her.
My eyes have been opened; from henceforth no longer will I serve your
false goddesses! I declare myself a Christian, and appeal for
protection to the emperor. Ah! you dare not stop me," she added, as
Coecus, hoping that what she had said had not been heard by those
around, stepped forward to grasp her arm. At the same moment several
persons were seen approaching, who were at once perceived to be
presbyters and other men of influence in the Christian Church. They
were attended by several lictors and other officers of the law.
Coecus drew back as Marcia spoke, but his presence of mind did not
desert him.
"I see that there is One who protects the Christians more powerful than
the gods of the ancients," he exclaimed. "We were ignorantly
endeavouring to perform what we considered our duty; but it is evident
that a miracle--of which I have heard the Christians speak--has been
wrought. Brother pontiffs, what say you? For my own part I am inclined
to embrace the faith which has become that of the fair and beautiful
Marcia."
"Anything you please," muttered Gaius in a low voice; "but it seems to
me that we have gained but little by this proceeding."
Coecus, however, was, as has been seen, a man of prompt action.
Ordering the fossors to fill in the tomb, he declared that from
henceforth no vestal should be buried on that spot. He expressed his
belief that he had been greatly deceived by some of the witnesses who
had been suborned to swear falsely against the innocent Coelia. He then
advanced towards Amulius, and the other presbyters, and expressed his
wish to be instructed in their faith. "I will," he added, "in the
meantime retain my position as chief of the pontiffs; but it shall be
that we may together design the means of advancing further the Christian
religion."
Whether or not Amulius and the other presbyters trusted to the
expressions of Coecus it was difficult to say, but the larger number of
persons among the crowd, many of whom were Christians, believed him;
while the idolaters, who had been wont to look up to him as the director
of their religious mysteries, were unable to comprehend the meaning of
the wonderful change which had taken place. That the chief pontiff of
Rome, who had clung to her idolatries, and even defied the emperor after
he had expressed himself openly in favour of the new faith, should thus
suddenly declare his intention of becoming a Christian, seemed to them a
thing altogether incomprehensible.
The first rejoiced under the idea that they had gained a great accession
to their strength, since the chief of their opponents had thus openly
declared himself willing to become one of their number; while to the
crowd of heathens it was a matter of indifference, so long as they
should receive their accustomed doles of food, and could enjoy the
spectacles with which they had so long been indulged.