OBLATIONS
The house into which the widow lady and her daughter entered was that used
by the Christians of Nemausus as their church. A passage led into the
_atrium_, a quadrangular court in the midst of the house into which most
of the rooms opened, and in the center of which was a small basin of
water. On the marble breasting of this tank stood, in a heathen household,
the altar to the _lares et penates_, the tutelary gods of the dwelling.
This court was open above for the admission of light and air, and to allow
the smoke to escape. Originally this had been the central chamber of the
Roman house, but eventually it became a court. It was the focus of family
life, and the altar in it represented the primitive family hearth in times
before civilization had developed the house out of the cabin.
Whoever entered a pagan household was expected, as token of respect, to
strew a few grains of incense on the ever‐burning hearth, or to dip his
fingers in the water basin and flip a few drops over the images. But in a
Christian household no such altar and images of gods were to be found. A
Christian gave great offense by refusing to comply with the generally
received customs, and his disregard on this point of etiquette was held to
be as indicative of boorishness and lack of graceful courtesy, as would be
the conduct nowadays of a man who walked into a drawing‐room wearing his
hat.
Immediately opposite the entrance into the _atrium_, on the further side
of the tank, and beyond the altar to the _lares et penates_, elevated
above the floor of the court by two or three white‐marble steps, was a
semicircular chamber, with elaborate mosaic floor, and the walls richly
painted. This was the _tablinum_. The paintings represented scenes from
heathen mythology in such houses as belonged to pagans, but in the
dwelling of Baudillas, the deacon, the pictures that had originally
decorated it had been plastered over, and upon this coating green vines
had been somewhat rudely drawn, with birds of various descriptions playing
among the foliage and pecking at the grapes.
Around the wall were seats; and here, in a pagan house, the master
received his guests. His seat was at the extremity of the apse, and was of
white marble. When such a house was employed for Christian worship, the
clergy occupied the seat against the wall and the bishop that of the
master in the center. In the chord of the apse above the steps stood the
altar, now no longer smoking nor dedicated to the _Lar pater_, but devoted
to Him who is the Father of Spirits. But this altar was in itself
different wholly from that which had stood by the water tank. Instead of
being a block of marble, with a hearth on top, it consisted of a table on
three, sometimes four, bronze legs, the slab sometimes of stone, more
generally of wood.(1)
The _tablinum_ was shut off from the hall or court, except when used for
the reception of guests, by rich curtains running on rings upon a rod.
These curtains were drawn back or forward during the celebration of the
liturgy, and this has continued to form a portion of the furniture of an
Oriental church, whether Greek, Armenian, or Syrian.
In like manner the _tablinum_, with its conch‐shape termination, gave the
type to the absidal chancel, so general everywhere except in England.
On the right side of the court was the _triclinium_ or dining‐room, and
this was employed by the early Christians for their love‐feasts.
Owing to the protection extended by law to the colleges or clubs, the
Christians sought to screen themselves from persecution by representing
themselves as forming one of these clubs, and affecting their usages. Even
on their tombstones they so designated themselves, “Cultores Dei,” and
they were able to carry on their worship under the appearance of
frequenting guild meetings. One of the notable features of such secular or
semi‐religious societies was the convivial supper for the members,
attended by all. The Church adopted this supper, called it Agape, but of
course gave to it a special signification. It was made to be a symbol of
that unity among Christians which was supposed to exist between all
members. The supper was also a convenient means whereby the rich could
contribute to the necessities of the poor, and was regarded as a
fulfilment of the Lord’s command: “When thou makest a feast, call the
poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind.”
Already, in the third century, the believers who belonged to the superior
classes had withdrawn from them, and alleged as their excuse the command:
“When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy
brethren, neither thy kinsman, nor thy rich neighbors.” Their actual
reason was, however, distaste for associating with such as belonged to the
lower orders, and from being present at scenes that were not always
edifying.
The house of Baudillas had once been of consequence, and his family one of
position; but that had been in the early days of the colony before the
indigenous Gaulish nobility had been ousted from every place of authority,
and the means for enriching themselves had been drawn away by the greed of
the conquerors. The quarter of the town in which was his mansion had
declined in respectability. Many of the houses of the old Volcian gentry
had been sold and converted into lodgings for artisans. In this case the
ancestral dwelling remained in the possession of the last representative
of the family, but it was out of repair, and the owner was poor.
“I hardly know what should be done,” said Baudillas to himself, rather
than to the ladies he was escorting. “The Church has been enjoined to
assemble this afternoon for the Agape, and our bishop, Castor, is absent
at this critical juncture. He has gone on a pastoral round, taking
advantage of the floods to visit, in boat, some of the outlying hamlets
and villages where there are believers. It seems to me hardly prudent for
us to assemble when there is such agitation of spirits. Ladies, allow my
house‐keeper—she was my nurse—to conduct you where you can repose after
the fatigue and distress you have undergone. She will provide dry garments
for Perpetua, and hot water for her feet. The baths are the proper place,
but it would be dangerous for her to adventure herself in public.”
Baudillas paced the court in anxiety of mind. He did not know what course
to adopt. He was not a man of initiative. He was devoted to his duty and
discharged whatever he was commanded to do with punctilious nicety; but he
was thrown into helpless incapacity when undirected by a superior mind, or
not controlled by a dominant will.
It would be difficult to communicate with the brethren. He had but one
male servant, Pedo, who had a stiff hip‐joint. He could not send him round
to give notice of a postponement, and Baudillas was not the man to take
such a step without orders. Probably, said he to himself, the commotion
would abate before evening. There would be much feasting in the town that
afternoon. The Cultores Nemausi had their club dinner; and the families of
Volcian descent made it a point of honor to entertain on that day,
dedicated to their Gallic founder and hero‐god. It was precisely for this
reason that the Agape had been appointed to be celebrated on the first of
March. When all the lower town was holding debauch, the harmless reunion
of the Christians would pass unregarded.
“What shall I do?” said the deacon. “Castor, our bishop, should not have
absented himself at such a time, but then how could he have foreseen what
has taken place? I will take care that the ladies be provided with
whatever they may need, and then will sally forth and ascertain what
temper our fellow‐citizens are in. We southerners blaze up like a fire of
straw, and as soon does our flame expire. If I meet some of the brethren,
I will consult with them what is to be done. As it is we have postponed
the Agape till set of sun, when we deemed that all the town would be
indoors merry‐making.”
An hour later, a slave of the lady Quincta arrived to say that her house
was watched, and that the servants did not deem it advisable to leave with
the litter, lest some attempt should be made to track them to the house
where their mistress was concealed, in which case the rabble might even
try to get possession of Perpetua.
Quincta was greatly alarmed at the tidings, and bade that the litter
should on no account be sent. When those watching her door had been
withdrawn, then a faithful slave was to announce the fact, and she and her
daughter would steal home afoot. Thus passed the time, with anxiety
contracting the hearts of all. Quincta was a timid woman, Baudillas, as
already said, irresolute. In the afternoon, gifts began to arrive for the
love‐feast. Slaves brought hampers of bread, quails, field‐fare stuffed
with truffles; brown pots containing honey were also deposited by them in
the passage. Others brought branches of dried raisins, apples, eggs,
flasks of oil, and bouquets of spring flowers.(2)
Baudillas was relieved when the stream of oblations began to flow in, as
it decided for him the matter of the Agape. It must take place—it could
not be deferred, as some of the food sent was perishable.
A slave arrived laden with an _amphora_—a red earthenware bottle, pointed
below, so that to maintain it upright it had to be planted in sand or
ashes. On the side was a seal with the sacred symbol, showing that it
contained wine set apart for religious usage.(3)
“Sir!” said the bearer, “happy is the man who tastes of this wine from
Ambrussum (near Lunel).(4) It is of the color of amber, it is old, and
runs like oil. The heat of the Provence sun is gathered and stored in it,
to break forth and glow in the veins, to mount into and fire the brain,
and to make and kindle a furnace in the heart.”
“It shall be used with discretion, Tarsius,” said the deacon.
“By Bacchus!—I ask your pardon, deacon! Old habits are not easily laid
aside. What was I saying? Oh—you remarked something about discretion. For
my part I consider that my master has exercised none in sending this to
your love‐feast. Bah! it is casting pearls before swine to pour out this
precious essence into the cups of such a beggarly, vagabond set as
assemble here. The quality folk are becoming weary of these banquets and
hold aloof.”
“That is sadly true,” observed Baudillas, “and the effect of this
withdrawal is that it aggravates the difficulties of myself and my
brethren.”
“The choice liquor is thrown away on such as you have as congregation. How
can they relish the Ambrussian if they have not had their palates educated
to know good liquor from bad? On my faith as a Christian! were I master
instead of slave, I would send you the wine of the year when Sosius Falco
and Julius Clarus were consuls—then the grapes mildewed in the bunch, and
the wine is naught but vinegar, no color, no bouquet, no substance.
Gentlemen and slaves can’t drink it. But I reckon that my master thinks to
condone his absence by sending one of his choicest flasks.”
“You are somewhat free of tongue, Tarsius.”
“I am a frank man though enslaved. Thoughts are free, and my tongue is not
enchained. I shall attend the banquet this evening. The master and
mistress remain at home that we, believing members of the family, may be
present at the Agape. I will trouble you, when pouring out the Ambrussian
wine, not to forget that I had to sweat under the flask, to your house.”
“I think, Tarsius, I cannot do better than place the bottle under your
charge. You know its value, and the force of the wine. Distribute as you
see fit.”
“Aye; I know who will appreciate it, and who are unworthy of a drop. I
accept the responsibility. You do wisely, deacon, in trusting me—a knowing
one,” and he slapped his breast and pursed up his mouth.
Then another servant appeared with a basket.
“Here, sir!” said he to the deacon. “I bring you honey‐cakes. The lady
Lampridia sends them. She is infirm and unable to leave her house, but she
would fain do something for the poor, the almoners of Christ. She sends
you these and also garments that she has made for children. She desires
that you will distribute them among such parents as have occasion for
them.”
Next came a man of equestrian rank, and drew the deacon aside.
“Where is Castor?” he inquired in an agitated voice. “I cannot appear this
evening. The whole town is in effervescence. Inquisition may be made for
us Christians. There will be a tumult. When they persecute you in one
city—fly to another! That is the divine command, and I shall obey it to
the letter. I have sent forward servants and mules—and shall escape with
my wife and children to my villa.”
“The bishop is away. He will be back this evening. I have not known what
to do, whether or not to postpone the Agape to another day.”
“No harm will come of it if you hold the feast. None will attend save the
poor and such as are on the books of the Church, the widows and those to
whom a good meal is a boon. The authorities will not trouble themselves
about the like of them. I don’t relish the aspect of affairs, and shall be
off before the storm breaks.” Then the knight added hastily, “Here is
money, distribute it, and bid the recipients pray for me and mine, that no
harm befall us.”
Baudillas saw that the man was quaking with apprehension. “Verily,” said
he to himself, “It is a true saying, ‘How hardly shall they that have
riches enter into the kingdom of Heaven.’ I wonder now, whether I have
acted judiciously in entrusting that old Ambrussian to Tarsius? If the
bishop had been here, I could have consulted him.”
So a weak, but good man, may even do a thing fraught with greater mischief
than can be done with evil intent by an adversary.