A DEATH.
The first stages of repentance are but a fever, in which there is
restlessness and thirst, hot and cold fits, vague, dreary dreams, long
darkness which seems destined never to have a morning, effort without
result, and collapse without reaction. These symptoms had already
manifested themselves in Agellius; he spoke calmly to Callista, and
sustained himself by the claims of the moment; but no sooner had he left
the room and was thrown upon himself, than his self-possession left him,
and he fell into an agony, or rather anarchy of tumultuous feelings. Then
rose up before his mind a hundred evil spectres, not less scaring and more
real than the dreams of the delirious. He thought of the singular favour
which had been shown him in his reception into the Christian fold, and
that at so early a date; of the myriads all around who continued in
heathenism as they had been born, and of his utter insensibility to his
own privilege. He felt how much would be required of him, and how little
hitherto had been forthcoming. He thought of the parable of the barren
fig-tree, and the question was whispered in his ear whether it would not
be fulfilled in him. He asked himself in what his heart and his conduct
differed from the condition of a fairly virtuous heathen. And then he
thought of Callista in contrast with himself, as having done more with the
mite which she possessed than he had done with many pounds. He felt that
Tyre and Sidon were rising up against him in her person; or rather how the
saying seemed about to be verified in her, that strangers should sit down
in the kingdom from far countries, while those who were the heirs should
be thrust out. He had been rebuked by one to whom he rather ought to have
brought self-knowledge and compunction, and she was sensitively alive to
his want of charity. She had felt bitterly that she was left in ignorance
and sin by one who had what she had not. She had accused him of being
zealous enough to win her to himself, when he had shown no zeal at all to
win her to her Maker. If she was brought to the truth at length, there
would be no thanks to him for the happy change; yet on the other hand,
though he had predicted it, alas! was it likely that it would be granted?
Had she not had her opportunity, which was lost because he had not
improved it? Yes, she had with a deliberate mind and in set words put
aside and taken leave of that which she once desired and hoped might have
been her own, sorrowfully indeed, but peremptorily, as firmly persisting
in rejecting it, as she might have persisted in maintaining it; and, if
she died in infidelity, horrible thought! would not the burden lie on him,
and was this to be the token of the love which he pretended to entertain
for her?
What was he living for? what was the work he had set himself to do? Did he
live to plant flowers, or to rear fruit, to maintain himself and to make
money? Was that a time to pride himself on vineyards and oliveyards, when,
like Eliseus, he was one among myriads who were in unbelief? Ah, the
difference between a saint and him? Of what good was he on earth; why
should not he die? why so chary of his life? why preserve his wretched
life at all? Could he not do more by giving it than by keeping it? Might
it not have been given him perchance for the very purpose that he might
sacrifice it for Him who had given it? He had been timid about making a
profession of his faith, which might have led to prison and death; but
perhaps the very object of his life in the divine purpose, the very reason
of his birth, had been that, as soon as he was grown, he should die for
the truth. He might have been cut off by disease; he was not; and why,
except that he might merit in his death, and that what, in the ordinary
course of things, was a mere suffering, might in his case be an act of
service? His death might have been the conversion of thousands, of
Callista; and the fewness of his days here would have been his claim to a
blessed eternity hereafter.
Nor Callista alone; he had natural friends, with nearer claims upon his
charity. Had he been other than he was, he might have prevailed with his
uncle; at least he might have taught him to respect the Christian Faith
and Name, and restrained him from daring to attempt, for he now saw that
it was an attempt, to seduce him into sin. He might have lodged a good
seed in his heart, which in the hour of sickness might have germinated.
And his brother again had learned to despise him; indeed he had raised in
every one who came near him the suspicion that he was not really a
Christian, that he was an apostate (he could not help uttering a cry of
anguish as he used the word), an apostate from that which was his real
life and supreme worship.
Why did he not at once go into the Basilica or the Gymnasium, and proclaim
himself a Christian? There were rumours abroad that the new emperor was
beginning a new policy towards his religion; let him inaugurate it in
Agellius. Might he not thus perchance wash out his sin? He would be led
into the amphitheatre, as his betters had been led before him; the crowds
would yell, and the lion would be let loose upon him. He would confront
the edict, tear it down, be seized by the apparitor, and hurried to the
rack or the slow fire. Callista would hear of it, and would learn at
length he was not quite the craven and the recreant which she thought him.
Then his thoughts took a turn. Callista! what was Callista to him? Why
should he think of her, when she was girding him to martyrdom? Was she to
be the motive which was to animate him, and her praise his reward? Alas,
alas! could he gain heaven by pleasing a heathen? “But to whom then,” he
continued, “am I to look up? who is to give me sympathy? who is to
encourage, to advise me? O my Father, pity me! a feeble child, a poor,
outcast, wandering sheep, away from the fold, torn by the briars and
thorns, and no one to bind his wounds and retrace his steps for him. Why
am I thus alone in the world? why am I without a pastor and guide? Ah, was
not this my fault in remaining in Sicca? I have no tie here; let me go to
Carthage, or to Tagaste, or to Madaura, or to Hippo. I am not fit to walk
the world by myself; I am too simple, and am no match for its artifices.”
Here another thought took possession of him, which had as yet but crossed
his mind, and it made him colour up with confusion and terror. “They were
laying a plot for me,” he said, “my uncle and Aristo; and it is Callista
who has defeated it.” And as he spoke, he felt how much he owed to her,
and how dangerous too it was to think of his debt. Yet it would not be
wrong to pray for her; she had marred the device of which she was to have
been the agent. “Laqueus contritus est, et nos liberati sumus:” the net
was broken and he was delivered. She had refused his devotion, that he
might give it to his God; and now he would only think of her, and whisper
her name, when he was kneeling before the Blessed Mary, his advocate. O
that that second and better Eve, who brought salvation into the world, as
our first mother brought death, O that she might bear Callista’s name in
remembrance, and get it written in the Book of life!
It was high noon; and all this time Agellius was walking in his present
excited mood, without covering to his head, under the burning rays of the
sun, not knowing which way he went, and retracing his steps, as he
wandered about at random, with a vague notion he was going homewards. The
few persons whom he met, creeping about under the shadow of the lofty
houses, or under the porticoes of the temples, looked at him with wonder,
and thought him furious or deranged. The shafts of the sun were not so hot
as his own thoughts, or as the blood which shot to and fro so fiercely in
his veins; but they were working fearfully on his physical frame, though
they could not increase the fever of his mind. He had come to the Forum;
the market people were crouching under their booths or the shelter of
their baskets. The riffraff of the city, who lived by their wits, or by
odd jobs, or on the windfalls of the market; lazy fellows who did nothing,
who did not move till hunger urged them, like the brute; half-idiotic
chewers of opium, ragged or rather naked children, the butcher boys and
scavengers of the temples, lay at their length at the mouth of the caverns
formed by the precipitous rock, or under the Arch of Triumph, or amid the
columns of the Gymnasium and the Heracleum, or in the doorways of the
shops. A scattering of beggars were lying, poor creatures, on their backs
in the blazing sun, reckless of the awful maladies, the fits, the
seizures, and the sudden death, which might be the consequence.
Numbers out of this mixed multitude were asleep; some were looking with
dull listless eyes at the still scene, or at any accidental movements
which might vary it. They saw a figure coming nearer and nearer and wildly
passing by. Just then Agellius was diverted from his painful meditations
by hearing one of these fellows say to another, as he roused from a sort
of doze, “That’s one of them. We know them all, but very poor pickings can
be got out of them; but he has more than most. They’re a low set in
Sicca.” And then the man cried out, “Look sharp, young chap! the Furies
are at your heels, and the Fates are going before you. Look there at the
emperor; he is looking at you, as grim and sour as you could wish him.” He
spoke of the equestrian statue of Severus before the Basilica on the
right; and, attracted by his words, Agellius went up to a board which was
fixed to its base. It was an imperial edict, and it ran as follows:—
“Cneius Trajanus Decius, Augustus; and Quintus Herennius Etruscus Decius,
Cæsar; Emperors, unconquerable and pious; by united council these:—
“Whereas we have experienced the benefits and the gifts of the gods, and
do also enjoy the victory which they have given us over our enemies, and
moreover salubrity of seasons, and abundance in the fruits of the earth;
“Therefore, acknowledging the aforesaid as our benefactors and the
providers of those things which are necessary for the commonwealth, we
make this our decree, that every class of the state, freemen and slaves,
the army and civilians, offer to the gods expiatory sacrifices, falling
down in supplication before them;
“And if any one shall presume to disobey this our divine command, which we
unite in promulgating, we order that man to be thrown into chains, and to
be subjected to various tortures;
“And should he thereupon be persuaded to reverse his disobedience, he
shall receive from us no slight honours;
“But should he hold out in opposition, first he shall have many tortures,
and then shall be executed by the sword, or thrown into the deep sea, or
given as a prey to birds and dogs;
“And more than all if such a person be a professor of the Christian
religion.
“Farewell, and live happy.”
The old man in the fable called on Death, and Death made his appearance.
We are very far indeed from meaning that Agellius uttered random words, or
spoke impatiently, when he just now expressed a wish to have the
opportunity of dying for the Faith. Nevertheless, what now met his eyes
and was transmitted through them, sentence by sentence, into his mind, was
not certainly of a nature to calm the tumult which was busy in breast and
brain; a sickness came over him, and he staggered away. The words of the
edict still met his eyes, and were of a bright red colour. The sun was
right before him, but the letters were in the sun, and the sun in his
brain. He reeled and fell heavily on the pavement. No notice was taken of
the occurrence by the spectators around him. They lazily or curiously
looked on, and waited to see if he would recover.
How long he lay there he could not tell, when he came to himself; if it
could really be said to be coming to himself to have the power of motion,
and an instinct that he must move, and move in one direction. He managed
to rise and lean against the pedestal of the statue, and its shade by this
time protected him. Then an intense desire came upon him to get home, and
that desire gave him a temporary preternatural strength. It came upon him
as a duty to leave Sicca for his cottage, and he set off. He had a
confused notion that he must do his duty, and go straight forward, and
turn neither to the right, nor the left, and stop nowhere, but move on
steadily for his true home. But next an impression came upon him that he
was running away from persecution, and that this ought not to be, and that
he ought to face the enemy, or at least not to hide from him, but meekly
wait for him.
As he went along the narrow streets which led down the hill towards the
city gate this thought came so powerfully upon him that at length he sat
down on a stone which projected from an open shop, and thought of
surrendering himself. He felt the benefit of the rest, and this he fancied
to be the calm of conscience consequent upon self-surrender and
resignation. It was a fruiterer’s stall, and the owner, seeing his
exhaustion, offered him some slices of a water-melon for his refreshment.
He ate one of them, and then again a vague feeling came on him that he was
in danger of idolatry, and must protest against idolatry, and that he
ought not to remain in the neighbourhood of temptation. So, throwing down
the small coin which was sufficient for payment, he continued his journey.
The rest and the refreshment of the fruit, and the continued shade which
the narrow street allowed him, allayed the fever, and for the time
recruited him, and he moved on languidly. The sun, however, was still high
in heaven, and when he got beyond the city beat down upon his head from a
cloudless sky. He painfully toiled up the ascent which led to his cottage.
He had nearly gained the gate of his homestead; he saw his old household
slave, born in his father’s house, a Christian like himself, coming to
meet him. A dizziness came over him, he lost his senses, and fell down
helplessly upon the bank.