At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
discharge this duty.
The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
admiration of the picture before him.
"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
low, thoroughfares.
As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
had a child like thee!"
"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
their leader.
"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
importance."
"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
done. So come, join us at once."
"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
I will put it by safe while we play."
"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
purpose.
"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
Christian."
The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
was the same then as now:
"Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
The mob profanely bade him to display;
He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
_Cardinal Wiseman._