It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
us that he is just returning home from school.
While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
him as follows:
"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
happened to you on the way."
"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
whether I ought to tell you all."
Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
can be indifferent to me."
"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
understand."
"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
triumphs.'"
The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
tell the rest!"
"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
What further said or did Corvinus?"
The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
then proceeded:
"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
powerful."
"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
matron.
He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
this a happy day?"
_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
* * * * *
SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
sheep or young calf, for writing on.
THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
and often loaded with lead or iron.
"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
[Illustration:]
[Illustration:]
* * * * *
_79_