THE STORM BURSTS.
The crafty Juba, when she found herself arrested in _flagrante
delicto_--in the very act of her attempted crime--determined to use, if
possible, the fiction she had employed with reference to Isidorus, as a
means of escape from the very serious dilemma in which she was placed.
It will be remembered that she had stated, in order to procure the
acceptance of her fatal gift, that it was a thank-offering from the
young Greek who had rendered such service to the Empress and Callirhoë.
Happy if Valeria had remembered and practised the ancient adage, "_Timeo
Danaos et dona ferentes._" But suspicion was foreign to her generous
nature, and even if the wise saw had occurred to her, she would have
lightly laughed away its cynical suggestion.
When the treacherous slave was examined as to her share in the attempted
crime, she stoutly adhered to her fictitious story, and protested that
she knew nothing of the contents of the basket, but that she had
received it from Isidorus, and had been well paid for conveying it to
the Empress without suspicion of any sinister design.
The Greek, when charged with the crime of attempting to procure, by
poison, the death of the Empress Valeria, manifested the greatest
astonishment. Summoned before the Quæstor of the Palace, an officer of
co-ordinate jurisdiction with the Prefect of the city, he stoutly
protested his innocence. But all his protestations were regarded by that
official, as only the very perfection of art--the well-feigned evasions
of a mendacious Greek. And certainly appearances were very much against
him. The Prefect Naso, now that he had extorted from him all the
information he had to give, abandoned him as a worn-out tool and
divulged to the Quæstor the damning fact that the Greek by a formal
document had accused the Empress of treason against the State, and of
conspiracy with the Christians--for so he represented the confessions
which, by his diabolical arts, he had wrung from his unhappy victim.
Confronted by this evidence Isidorus was dumb. He saw the trap into
which he had been snared, and that by no efforts of his own could he
extricate himself. He saw, too, the ruin he had brought upon his
friends, for Naso had procured the immediate arrest of Adauctus,
Aurelius, and Demetrius, the father of Callirhoë, and other Christians
connected with the Imperial household. Callirhoë herself was also placed
under arrest, upon the monstrous accusation of conspiracy with Isidorus
and Juba to procure the death of the Empress Valeria. One would have
thought that her self-devotion and almost sacrifice of her life to save
that of her mistress would have been a sufficient vindication from such
a charge. But the unreasoning terror of the Emperors and the unreasoning
hatred of all who bore the Christian name, fostered as these were by the
machinations and evil suggestions of the Quæstor of the Palace, the
Prefect of the city, the arch priest of Cybele, and the cruel, crafty
Fausta, thirsty for the blood of her victim, rendered possible the
acceptance of any charge, however improbable. "Any stick will do to beat
a dog," and any accusation, however absurd, was considered available
against the Christians.
Even Galerius who, left to himself, would, soldier-like, have braved any
personal danger, completely lost his judgment at the peril menacing the
Empress. The tortures of slaves and servants by the perverted tribunals,
miscalled of justice, fomented by the cruel, crafty priests, and the
eager greed of Prefect and Quæstor, caused an outburst of persecution
against all who bore the Christian name. The estates of Adauctus, and
Aurelius were expropriated by the persecutors, and as a consequence
their late possessors were pre-judged to death. Valeria who would fain
have interposed her protection, had suffered such a physical shock as
to be incapable of exercising any authority or influence she might
possess. And the Empress Prisca, less courageous in spirit, less
beautiful in person, and less potent in influence, was completely cowed
by the domineering violence of the Emperor Diocletian, who was quite
beside himself at the conspiracy against the gods, and against the
Imperial Household which he persuaded himself had been discovered.
"Madam," he replied, in answer to a weak remonstrance against the
persecution, "was it not enough that our palace at Nicomedia was burned
over our heads, that you must apologise for treason in our very
household and the menace of our very person. No; the Christian
superstition must be stamped out, and the worship of the gods
maintained."[37]
Hence throughout the wide empire, in the sober language of history,
"Edict followed edict, rising in regular gradations of angry barbarity.
The whole clergy were declared enemies of the State; and bishops,
presbyters, and deacons were crowded into the prisons intended for the
basest malefactors"[38]--"an innumerable company," says the Christian
bishop Eusebius, "so that there was no room left for those condemned for
crime." "We saw with our own eyes," writes a contemporary historian,
"our houses of worship thrown down, the sacred Scriptures committed to
the flames, and the shepherds of the people become the sport of their
enemies--scourge with rods, tormented with the rack and excruciating
scrapings, in which some endured the most terrible death. Then men and
women, with a certain divine and inexpressible alacrity rushed into the
fire. The persecutors, constantly inventing new tortures, vied with one
another as if there were prizes offered to him who should invent the
greatest cruelties. The men bore fire, sword, and crucifixions, savage
beasts, and the depths of the sea, the maiming of limbs and searing with
red hot iron, digging out of the eyes and mutilations of the whole body,
also hunger, the mines, and prison. The women also were strengthened by
the Divine Word, so that some of them endured the same trials as the
men, and bore away the same prize. It would exceed all powers of
detail," he goes on, "to give an idea of the sufferings and tortures
which the martyrs endured. And these things were done, not for a few
days, but for a series of whole years. We ourselves," he adds, "have
seen crowds of persons, some beheaded, some burned alive, in a single
day, so that the murderous weapons were blunted and broken in pieces,
and the executioners, weary with slaughter, were obliged to give over
the work of blood."[39] And he goes on to describe deeds of shame and
torture of which he was an eye-witness, which our pen refuses to record.
The enthusiasm for martyrdom prevailed at times almost like an epidemic.
It was one of the most remarkable features of the ages of persecution.
Notwithstanding the terrific tortures to which they were exposed, the
zeal of the Christian heroes burned higher and brighter in the fiercest
tempest of heathen rage. Age after age summoned the soldiers of the
Cross to the conflict whose highest guerdon was death. They bound
persecution as a wreath about their brows, and exulted in the "glorious
infamy" of suffering for their Lord. The brand of shame became the badge
of highest honour. Besides the joys of heaven they won imperishable fame
on earth; and the memory of a humble slave was often haloed with a glory
surpassing that of a Curtius or Horatius. The meanest hind was ennobled
by the accolade of martyrdom to the loftiest peerage of the skies. His
consecration of suffering was elevated to a sacrament, and called the
baptism of fire or of blood.
Burning to obtain the prize, the impetuous candidates for death often
pressed with eager haste to seize the palm of victory and the martyr's
crown. They trod with joy the fiery path to glory, and went as gladly to
the stake as to a marriage feast. "Their fetters," says Eusebius,
"seemed like the golden ornaments of a bride."[40] They desired
martyrdom more ardently than men afterward sought a bishopric.[41] They
exulted amid their keenest pangs that they were counted worthy to suffer
for their divine Master. "Let the ungulæ tear us," exclaims
Tertullian;[42] "the crosses bear our weight, the flames envelope us,
the sword divide our throats, the wild beasts spring upon us; the very
posture of prayer is a preparation for every punishment." "These
things," says St. Basil, "so far from being a terror, are rather a
pleasure and a recreation to us."[43] "The tyrants were armed;" says St.
Chrysostom; "and the martyrs naked; yet they that were naked got the
victory, and they that carried arms were vanquished."[44] Strong in the
assurance of immortality, they bade defiance to the sword.
Though weak in body they seemed clothed with vicarious strength, and
confident that though "counted as sheep for the slaughter," naught could
separate them from the love of Christ. Wrapped in their fiery vesture
and shroud of flame, they yet exulted in their glorious victory. While
the leaden hail fell on the mangled frame, and the eyes filmed with the
shadows of death, the spirit was enbraved by the beatific vision of the
opening heaven, and above the roar of the mob fell sweetly on the inner
sense the assurance of eternal life. "No group, indeed, of Oceanides was
there to console the Christian Prometheus; yet to his upturned eye
countless angels were visible--their anthem swept solemnly to his ear
--and the odours of an opening paradise filled the air. Though the dull
ear of sense heard nothing, he could listen to the invisible Coryphæus
as he invited him to heaven and promised him an eternal crown."[45] The
names of the "great army of martyrs," though forgotten by men, are
written in the Book of Life. "The Lord knoweth them that are His."
There is a record, traced on high,
That shall endure eternally;
The angel standing by God's throne
Treasures there each word and groan;
And not the martyr's speech alone,
But every wound is there depicted,
With every circumstance of pain
The crimson stream, the gash inflicted
And not a drop is shed in vain.[46]
This spirit of martyrdom was a new principle in society. It had no
classical counterpart.[47] Socrates and Seneca suffered with fortitude,
but not with faith. The loftiest pagan philosophy dwindled into
insignificance before the sublimity of Christian hope. This looked
beyond the shadows of time and the sordid cares of earth to the grandeur
of the Infinite and the Eternal. The heroic deaths of the believers
exhibited a spiritual power mightier than the primal instincts of
nature, the love of wife or child, or even of life itself. Like a solemn
voice falling on the dull ear of mankind, these holy examples urged the
inquiry, "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose
his own soul?" And that voice awakened an echo in full many a heart. The
martyrs made more converts by their deaths than in their lives. "Kill
us, rack us condemn us, grind us to powder," exclaims the intrepid
Christian Apologist; "our numbers increase in proportion as you mow us
down."[47] The earth was drunk with the blood of the saints, but still
they multiplied and grew, gloriously illustrating the perennial
truth--_Sanguis martyrum semen ecclesiæ_.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[37] These are the very words of the edict quoted in note to Chapter II.
[38] Milman, History of Christianity, Book II., Chapter ix.
[39] Eusebius' "Ecclesiastical History," Book viii., Chaps, ii-xiv.
[40] Hist. Eccles., v. I.
[41] Multique avidius tum martyria gloriosis mortibus quærebantur quam
nunc episcopatus pravis ambitionibus appetuntur.--Sulpic. Sever. Hist.,
lib. II.
[42] Apol. c. 30.
[43] Gregory Nazianzen. Orat. de Laud. Basil. See also the striking
language of Ignatius. Euseb. Hist. Eccles. III. 36.
[44] Chrys. Horn. 74, de Martyr.
[45] Kip, p. 88--from Maitland, p. 146. Sometimes the ardour for
martyrdom rose into a passion. Eusebius says (Hist. Eccles., viii., 6)
that in Nicomedia "Men and women with a certain divine and inexpressible
alacrity rushed into the fire."
Inscripta CHRISTO pagina immortalis est,
Excepit adstans angelus coram Deo.
Et quæ locutus martyr, et quæ pertulit:
Nec verbum solum disserentis condidit,
Omnis notata est sanguinis dimensio,
Quæ vis doloris, quive segmenti modus:
Guttam cruoris ille nullam perdidit. _Peristeph._
[46] Video, proboque meliora,
Deterioraque sequor.--_Hor._
[47] The pagans called the martyrs [Greek: biatha(uatoi], or self
murderers.
[48] Tertul., Apol., c. 50.