_BRITANNICUS UNDERGOES A NEW EXPERIENCE_
‘For life, with all it yields of joy and woe,
And hope and fear--believe the aged friend--
Is just a chance of the prize of learning love;
How love might be, hath been indeed, and is;
And that we hold thenceforth to the uttermost
Such prize, despite the envy of the world.’
BROWNING, _A Death in the Desert_.
It was New Year’s Day in Rome. The day was kept as a universal
holiday. Everybody aimed at cheerfulness, and abstained from any
word of evil omen. Quarrels were suspended; calumny was hushed. Fires
were kindled on every side, and fed with scented woods and leaves of
odorous saffron. The gilded fretwork of every temple-roof glimmered
with twinkling reflections of the sacred flames. All the people were
clad in white, and went in procession to the Capitol. The lictors
were provided with new fasces; the magistrates were clad in new
purple, and assumed, for the first time, their curule chairs of
ivory. The white oxen of Clitumnus were led for sacrifice to the
altar of Jupiter, their necks wreathed with garlands. Friends
exchanged presents, which, even when they were of trifling value,
yet served to show that they had not forgotten to express their love.
Among presents from Octavia, and Titus, and Pudens, and Pomponia,
and other friends, Britannicus, who had now recovered, was greeted by
Epictetus with the customary gift of gilded dates--called _strenæ_,
whence the French _étrennes_--and a little honey in its snowy comb.
These the poor lame boy had bought, with such copper coins as he had
been able to save, at the little market for such trifles near the
Porta Mugionis; and he had not forgotten to bring a few sprigs of
vervain, good-naturedly given to him as an augury of blessing by one
of the priests at the half-forgotten shrine of Vacuna, on the Sacred
Way. But Britannicus had received more splendid presents than these.
Agrippina had given him a double-branched silver candelabrum, up
the shaft of which crept a wild-cat towards two unsuspecting birds
perched on either dish above. But when he showed it to Octavia she
shuddered. To her fancy it seemed as if Nero were the wild-cat, and
herself and her brother the harmless birds.
Never had Britannicus and Octavia been more sad than in the days
which followed Nero’s frustrated plots to assassinate his brother.
They knew that further attempts would not be long delayed. On
February 13 Britannicus would be fifteen years old, and it would be
impossible to withhold from him the manly toga. But he felt sure that
the sword was dangling by a hair over his neck, and that he would not
long be suffered to live.
And thus, in the dawn of youth, he found himself in a situation so
terrible that it has shaken the fortitude of many a full-grown man.
Even the iron nerves of Cromwell were affected by the daily danger of
assassination; and now Britannicus never sat down to a meal without
dread of treachery, and never went to bed without a misgiving as
to whether that sleep would not be his last. From the latter terror
Titus relieved him as much as he could, by nightly drawing his own
couch across the door. Onesimus had told Titus that if any deed of
darkness were in immediate contemplation he would be almost sure to
hear of it from Acte. Yet, in spite of all, the poor boy’s mind might
have been unhinged by the secret and manifold dangers with which the
hatred of the Emperor surrounded him, had it not been for the lessons
which he had heard from the humble followers of the gospel. Never
could he forget the awful expansion and dilatation of spirit which
had accompanied the emotion he had experienced at the Christian
gathering. At that moment he had felt a foretaste of immortality.
And, happily for the Empress and himself, there remained one more
transcendent experience before the fall of the thunderbolt which
separated them from each other.
The Ides of January were kept as a festival to Jupiter, and the next
day was also the anniversary on which Octavianus had been saluted by
the title of Augustus. The day was therefore observed with various
ceremonies, and, as they were chiefly of a public character, it
was easier for the children of Claudius to move about with less
observation than usual. They had long desired to hear the words of
one who had seen Jesus, and on the morning of January 14 a letter
reached Octavia from Pomponia, conveying a cautious intimation
that now their wish could be granted. Their young companion Flavius
Clemens was to visit the Palace in the afternoon, and after they had
supped with Aulus Plautius they were to arrange the way in which the
rest of the evening should be spent.
When the supper was over, the two boys, Clemens and Britannicus,
disguised in the dress of humble slaves, went with Pudens down the
Velabrum and along the bank of the Tiber, which they crossed by the
island and the Fabrician and Cestian bridges. The region in which
they found themselves was poor and squalid, and was largely inhabited
by Jews. The Jewish and Gentile Christians at this early period
worshipped in separate communities, but they met together on so great
an occasion as the visit of an Apostle. But the laws about assemblies
and foreign superstitions were a two-edged sword which might easily
be wielded with fatal effect, and it was desirable for the Christians
to hold their gatherings with as little publicity as possible, in
order to escape the hatred both of Jews and Pagans. This meeting,
therefore, was to be held at a remote spot in the hollow of one
of the _arenariæ_, or sand-pits, and those who attended it were to
use one or other of the Christian watchwords. They were to approach
the place in scattered groups and from different directions, while
scouts were stationed in the neighbourhood to give instant signal of
approaching danger.
Using these precautions, Britannicus and his attendants found
themselves among the latest arrivals at the rendezvous. The winter
darkness, deepened by the overhanging sides of the tufa quarry,
rendered it necessary to have a few lights, but most of the assembled
Christians extinguished or concealed their lamps. The dimness, the
silence, the starry sky which overhung them, the strained expectation,
the signs of intense devotion, made the scene overwhelming in its
solemnity. At last a little group of the chief Christian presbyters,
headed by Linus, was seen to approach. They passed under the shadow
of the cliffs, and emerged before the table, on which one or two
lamps were burning. Then the presbyters divided to the right and
left hand, and the light fell full on the face and figure of one man
who stepped a pace or two to the front.
He was dressed, as was not unusual at Rome, in Eastern costume. He
was a man a little past the prime of life. The hair which escaped
from under his turban was already sprinkled with grey. His dark eyes
seemed to be lighted from within by a spiritual fire; his figure
was commanding, his attitude full of dignity. His face was a perfect
oval, and the features were of the finest type of Eastern manhood.
When once you had gazed upon him it seemed impossible to take
the eyes from a countenance so perfect in its light and spiritual
beauty--a countenance in which a fiery vehemence was exquisitely
tempered by a pathetic tenderness. His whole appearance was magnetic.
It seemed to flash into all around him its own nobleness, and to
kindle there that flame of love to God and man which burnt on the
altar of his own heart. That such a soul should be convinced of
a truth seemed alone sufficient to convince others. That such
lips should testify to a fact rendered all disbelief of the fact
impossible to those who once fell under his influence. That such
a man could be the herald of a new religion seemed like a certain
pledge that the faith which he held must sooner or later overcome
the world.
In his aspect was something indescribably different from that worn
by the noblest philosophers of Rome. On all sides, in the Roman
amphitheatre and in the Roman streets, you saw faces which were
cruel, and proud, and seamed with every evil passion; faces cunning,
and sly, and leering, and degraded; the slavish faces of those who
were slaves in soul, and the ignoble faces of those whom an ignoble
society had cowed by its terror and degraded by its vice. Even in the
Senate you saw noble lineaments on which servility, and care, and a
life spent under tyrants and in households where every slave might
be a potential enemy, had impressed the stamp of gloom and fear. But
in the face of this Apostle there was softness as well as strength,
and hope as well as courage. His eyes shone with a joy which seemed
to brighten in the midst of affliction, as the stars brighten in the
deepening twilight.
As he entered the whole assembly rose to their feet by a spontaneous
movement of reverence, and then no less spontaneously some of those
present fell upon their knees. But instantly his voice was heard,
as, in an accent of command, almost of sternness, he bade them rise.
‘Rise,’ he said, ‘brethren and saints. What homage is this? We are
men of like passions with yourselves. I do not mistake your feelings.
Ye think that such reverence must be due to a disciple whom, unworthy
as he was, yet Jesus loved. But know ye not that every true saint
among you is nearer to Him now by His Spirit than it was possible for
us to be in the days of His flesh? Has not our brother Paul taught
you in his preaching that your bodies are temples of the Holy Ghost,
who dwelleth in you, except ye be reprobate?’
Then Linus rose and said, ‘Let us kneel and thank God in prayer that
He has suffered an Apostle of His Son to visit us, and then we will
join in a common hymn.’
When the simple prayer was over they united their voices in that
earliest Christian hymn which has been happily preserved for us by
Clement of Alexandria. They began in accents soft and sweet and low--
‘Shepherd of sheep that own
Their Master on the throne,
Stir up Thy children weak
With guileless lips to speak,
In hymn and song, Thy praise,
Guide of their infant ways.’
Then the strain swelled louder--
‘O King of saints, O Lord,
Mighty, all-conquering Word;
Son of the highest God,
Wielding His wisdom’s rod;
Our stay when cares annoy,
Giver of endless joy;
Of all our mortal race
Saviour, of boundless grace,
O Jesus, hear!’[57]
They knelt down once more, and the strain of thanksgiving rose among
them, with no confusion in its blended utterance, as they responded
to the words of their bishop. And when the voices ceased Nereus, the
slave of Pudens, said, after a brief pause, ‘O that John of Bethsaida
would tell us first of that Resurrection whereof he is one of the
appointed witnesses!’
John rose, and gave them the narrative which long years after he
embodied in his Gospel.
He told them of the startling words of Mary of Magdala on that first
glad Easter morning; and how he himself and Peter ran together to the
empty tomb, ere yet they knew the Scripture that He must rise again
from the dead.
He told them of the vision of angels which appeared in the tomb to
Mary, and how Jesus had spoken to her in the garden.
He told of the appearance to the Ten, and the words of peace; and
again, on the next Sunday, to the Eleven, when He convinced the
doubting Thomas, and bade him to be not faithless, but believing.
He told them of the appearance on the shore of the misty silver sea,
and of His last behest to Simon Peter; and he corrected the false
impression as to what had been said concerning himself, which had not
been, as had been mistakenly reported, that he should not die, but
‘If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee?’
And as he spoke these words, in a voice which rose like a divine
melody, the attention grew more and more rapt, and, as he ended, the
awful, penetrating, thrilling sound of the tongue began to be heard.
But John checked it by a gentle lifting of his hand, and Linus said,
‘Let the spirits of the prophets be subject to the prophets. Let us
rather hear the witness of the Lord.’
Then Hermas, slave of Pedanius Secundus, the City Prætor, rose, and
asked, ‘What meant the Lord by those words, “that he tarry _till I
come_”? When should be the day of His coming?’
‘That question we also asked,’ said John, ‘before His death; and
though He spake of signs of the times, like the redness and lowering
of the sky, yet He added to us, “Of that day and that hour knoweth no
man--no, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but the Father.”’
‘And are there no signs of the time now?’ asked Linus.
‘There are many,’ he answered, ‘by which we may know that the coming
of the Lord is even at the door. I have walked through this Babylon,
and have seen all the splendour of her merchandise, as of Tyrus in
old days, and amid it all--slaves and souls of men. Yea, and as I
have witnessed all the cruelty and all the vileness, like the scum of
that seething caldron which the prophet saw of old, I feel compelled
to ask with him, “Shall I not judge for these things?” saith the
Lord; “shall not My soul be avenged on such a nation as this?” Yea,
sometimes a voice seems to ring within me which says, “Woe, woe! to
the dwellers upon earth!” The great tribulation must come of which
the Lord spake and the Antichrist must be revealed, and God must
accomplish the number of the elect.’
‘The night is drawing in, O brother, revered in the Lord,’ said
Linus; ‘and it were well that we should speedily separate to our
homes. But ere we part give to us one word of exhortation of how
we are to save ourselves from this untoward generation.’
The Apostle raised his hands towards heaven, and his eye seemed to be
lit with heavenly ecstasy as he answered in this brief exhortation:
‘My children, love one another. Love is the fulfilling of the law.
There is no fear in love. Perfect love casteth out fear, because fear
hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. And this
commandment have we from Him, that he who loveth God love his brother
also.’
When he had thus exhorted them they broke out with passionate
jubilance in the hymn--
‘Fisher of men, the blest,
Out of the world’s unrest,
Out of sin’s troubled sea
Taking us, Lord, to Thee,
With choicest fish, good store,
Drawing thy nets to shore,
‘Lead us, O Shepherd true;
Thy mystic sheep, we sue!
O path where Christ hath trod,
O way that leads to God,
O Word, abiding aye,
O endless Light on high,
O glorious Life of all
That on their Maker call,
Christ Jesus, hear.’
All present knelt in prayer, ending with the united utterance of the
words that the Lord had taught; and the great _Amen_ rose like the
low sound of distant thunder. Then the Apostle raised his hands and
blessed them. Again the _Amen_ and the solemn _Maranatha_ rolled
through the air like the sound of mighty waters, and after a moment
of deep stillness the assembly peaceably departed.
Britannicus and his attendants, wishing to avoid notice, waited for
a time, until the twinkling streams of light from the torches and
lanterns carried by the worshippers grew fainter and more scattered.
Hence it happened that they were left the last in the _arenaria_,
except the little group of deacons and presbyters who stood round
John of Bethsaida. The young prince had been deeply moved by the
look and by the words of the Beloved Disciple. He wished to see him
nearer, and whispered to Pudens not to go until he had passed them,
for never yet had he seen so glorious a specimen of lofty and holy
manhood.
But the boy’s heart thrilled with strange emotion as the Apostle
paused on his way, and, standing before the little group, fixed his
eyes upon his face, approached him, and softly laid his hand upon his
shoulder.
He motioned to all except Flavius Clemens to stand aside, and he was
left speaking to the two youths.
‘My sons,’ he asked, ‘do ye believe in the Lord Jesus Christ?’
The youths were silent, till Britannicus, who felt in his heart the
confidence of an exceeding peace, said--
‘My father, I know not. All that you have said to us is beautiful
as a song of heaven. It stirs my heart; it seems to give wings to my
spirit; but I know too little, and all is yet too strange.’
‘My son,’ said the Apostle, ‘go in peace. It is given me to know
who thou art; thy slave’s attire does not conceal thee from me. Nay,
start not; none else shall know. But the seed hath been sown in thy
young heart; it shall blossom and bear fruit in a life beyond. For
there is a baptism, not of water only, but of blood. Would to God
that thou mightest remain for the furtherance of the kingdom of His
Son; but it may not be. And my message to thee is, “Be strong, and
He shall comfort thine heart, and put thou thy trust in the Lord.”’
He laid his right hand gently on the young prince’s head and blessed
him, and his whole soul seemed to thrill under that holy touch.
‘And hast thou no word for me, my father?’ said Flavius Clemens.
The Apostle turned towards him, and kindly laying his left hand on
the boy’s dark curls, he said--
‘I say to thee, as the Lord said to another, “And thou too, my son,
when thou wast young, thou girdedst thyself and wentest whither thou
wouldest; but when thou shalt be old another shall gird thee and
carry thee whither thou wouldest not.” Thy life shall be prolonged,
and thou shalt rise to great things; but thy heart shall be the
Lord’s, and many a year hence thou too shalt be His witness. One of
you shall see my face no more, but the Angel of His Presence bless
you both.’
He spoke, and passed out of their sight into the gloom, leaving in
their hearts a sound as of angelic music, a light as of purple wings.
Neither of them spoke, or could speak. In silence and haste they
made their way back over the dark flowing river to the house of Aulus
Plautius. Flavius was conducted home by faithful Christian slaves,
while the escort of the Empress accompanied her and her brother to
the Palace, which still rang with sounds of revelry. And that night
Titus wondered at the radiant serenity of the countenance of his
friend, and Britannicus slept as sweetly as a child; and as he
slumbered the spirits of the blessed dead seemed to keep guard over
him, and he smiled to hear strange snatches of immortal melody.