THE PRISON.
If a modern Christian wishes really to know what his forefathers
underwent for the faith, during three centuries of persecution, we would
not have him content himself with visiting the catacombs, as we have
tried to make him do, and thus learning what sort of life they were
compelled to lead; but we would advise him to peruse those imperishable
records, the _Acts of the Martyrs_, which will show him how they were
made to die. We know of no writings so moving, so tender, so consoling,
and so ministering of strength to faith and to hope, after God’s
inspired words, as these venerable monuments. And if our reader, so
advised, have not leisure sufficient to read much upon this subject, we
would limit him willingly to one specimen, the genuine Acts of SS.
Perpetua and Felicitas. It is true that they will be best read by the
scholar in their plain African latinity; but we trust that some one will
soon give us a worthy English version of these, and some other similar,
early Christian documents. The ones which we have singled out are the
same as were known to St. Augustine, and cannot be read by any one
without emotion. If the reader would compare the morbid sensibility, and
the overstrained excitement, endeavored to be produced by a modern
French writer, in the imaginary journal of a culprit condemned to
death, down to the immediate approach of execution, with the unaffected
pathos, and charming truthfulness, which pervades the corresponding
narrative of Vivia Perpetua, a delicate lady of twenty-one years of age,
he would not hesitate in concluding, how much more natural, graceful,
and interesting are the simple recitals of Christianity, than the
boldest fictions of romance. And when our minds are sad, or the petty
persecutions of our times incline our feeble hearts to murmur, we cannot
do better than turn to that really golden, because truthful legend, or
to the history of the noble martyrs of Vienne, or Lyons, or to the many
similar, still extant records, to nerve our courage, by the
contemplation of what children and women, catechumens and slaves,
suffered, unmurmuring, for Christ.
But we are wandering from our narrative. Pancratius, with some twenty
more, fettered, and chained together, were led through the streets to
prison. As they were thus dragged along, staggering and stumbling
helplessly, they were unmercifully struck by the guards who conducted
them; and any persons near enough to reach them, dealt them blows and
kicks without remorse. Those further off pelted them with stones or
offal, and assailed them with insulting ribaldry.[163] They reached the
Mamertine prison at last, and were thrust down into it, and found there
already other victims, of both sexes, awaiting their time of sacrifice.
The youth had just time, while he was being handcuffed, to request one
of the captors to inform his mother and Sebastian of what had happened,
and he slipped his purse into his hand.
A prison in ancient Rome was not the place to which a poor man might
court committal, hoping there to enjoy better fare and lodging than he
did at home. Two or three of these dungeons, for they are nothing
better, still remain; and a brief description of the one which we have
mentioned will give our readers some idea of what confessorship cost,
independent of martyrdom.
[Illustration: The Mamertine Prison.]
The Mamertine prison is composed of two square subterranean chambers,
one below the other, with only one round aperture in the centre of each
vault, through which alone light, air, food, furniture, and men could
pass. When the upper story was full, we may imagine how much of the two
first could reach the lower. No other means of ventilation, drainage, or
access could exist. The walls, of large stone blocks, had, or rather
have, rings fastened into them for securing the prisoners; but many used
to be laid on the floor, with their feet fastened in the stocks; and the
ingenious cruelty of the persecutors often increased the discomfort of
the damp stone floor, by strewing with broken potsherds this only bed
allowed to the mangled limbs, and welted backs, of the tortured
Christians. Hence we have in Africa a company of martyrs, headed by SS.
Saturninus and Dativus, who all perished through their sufferings in
prison. And the acts of the Lyonese martyrs inform us that many
new-comers expired in the jail, killed by severities, before their
bodies had endured any torments; while, on the contrary, some who
returned to it so cruelly tortured that their recovery appeared
hopeless, without any medical or other assistance, there regained their
health.[164] At the same time the Christians bought access to these
abodes of pain, but not of sorrow, and furnished whatever could, under
such circumstances, relieve the sufferings and increase the comforts,
temporal and spiritual, of these most cherished and venerated of their
brethren.
Roman justice required at least the outward forms of trial, and hence
the Christian captives were led from their dungeons before the tribunal;
where they were subjected to an interrogatory, of which most precious
examples have been preserved in the proconsular Acts of Martyrs, just as
they were entered by the secretary or registrar of the court.
When the Bishop of Lyons, Pothinus, now in his ninetieth year, was
asked, “Who is the God of the Christians?” he replied, with simple
dignity, “If thou shalt be worthy, thou shalt know.”[165] Sometimes the
judge would enter into a discussion with his prisoner, and necessarily
get the worst of it; though the latter would seldom go further with him
than simply reiterating his plain profession of the Christian faith.
Often, as in the case of one Ptolomæus, beautifully recited by St.
Justin, and in that of St. Perpetua, he was content to ask the simple
question, Art thou a Christian? and upon an affirmative reply, proceeded
to pronounce capital sentence.
Pancratius and his companion stood before the judge; for it wanted only
three days to the _munus_, or games, at which they were to “fight with
wild beasts.”
“What art thou?” he asked of one.
“I am a Christian, by the help of God,” was the rejoinder.
“And who art thou?” said the prefect to Rusticus.
“I am, indeed, a slave of Cæsar’s,” answered the prisoner; “but becoming
a Christian, I have been freed by Christ Himself; and by His grace and
mercy I have been made partaker of the same hope as those whom you see.”
Then turning to a holy priest, Lucianus, venerable for his years and his
virtues, the judge thus addressed him: “Come, be obedient to the gods
themselves, and to the imperial edicts.”
“No one,” answered the old man, “can be reprehended or condemned who
obeys the precepts of Jesus Christ our Saviour.”
“What sort of learning and studies dost thou pursue?”
“I have endeavored to master every science, and have tried every variety
of learning. But finally I adhered to the doctrines of Christianity,
although they do not please those who follow the wanderings of false
opinions.”
“Wretch! dost thou find delight in _that_ learning?”
“The greatest; because I follow the Christians in right doctrine.”
“And what is that doctrine?”
“The right doctrine, which we Christians piously hold, is to believe in
one God, the Maker and Creator of all things visible and invisible; and
to confess the Lord Jesus Christ the Son of God, anciently foretold by
the prophets, who will come to judge mankind, and is the preacher and
master of salvation, to those who will learn well under Him. I indeed,
as a mere man, am too weak and insignificant to be able to utter any
thing great of _His infinite Deity_: this office belongs to the
prophets.”[166]
“Thou art, methinks, a master of error to others, and deservest to be
more severely punished than the rest. Let this Lucianus be kept in the
nerve (stocks) with his feet stretched to the fifth hole.[167]--And you
two women, what are your names and condition?”
“I am a Christian, who have no spouse but Christ. My name is Secunda,”
replied the one.
“And I am a widow, named Rufina, professing the same saving faith,”
continued the other.
At length, after having put similar questions, and receiving similar
answers from all the others, except from one wretched man, who, to the
grief of the rest, wavered and agreed to offer sacrifice, the prefect
turned to Pancratius, and thus addressed him: “And now, insolent youth,
who hadst the audacity to tear down the edict of the divine emperors,
even for thee there shall be mercy, if yet thou wilt sacrifice to the
gods. Show thus at once thy piety and thy wisdom, for thou art yet but a
stripling.”
Pancratius signed himself with the sign of the saving cross, and calmly
replied, “I am the servant of Christ. Him I acknowledge by my mouth,
hold firm in my heart, _incessantly adore_. This youth which you behold
in me has the wisdom of grey hairs if it worship but one God. But your
gods, with those who adore them, are destined to eternal
destruction.”[168]
“Strike him on the mouth for his blasphemy, and beat him with rods,”
exclaimed the angry judge.
“I thank thee,” replied meekly the noble youth, “that thus I suffer some
of the same punishment as was inflicted on my Lord.”[169]
The prefect then pronounced sentence in the usual form. “Lucianus,
Pancratius, Rusticus, and others, and the women Secunda and Rufina, who
have all owned themselves Christians, and refuse to obey the sacred
emperor, or worship the gods of Rome, we order to be exposed to wild
beasts, in the Flavian amphitheatre.”
[Illustration: The Blessed Virgin, from a portrait found in the Cemetery
of St. Agnes.]
The mob howled with delight and hatred, and accompanied the confessors
back to their prison with this rough music; but they were gradually
overawed by the dignity of their gait, and the shining calmness of their
countenances. Some men asserted that they must have perfumed themselves,
for they could perceive a fragrant atmosphere surrounding their
persons.[170]