CHAPTER XIV.

THE TEMPTATION.

"All this will I give thee if thou wilt fall down and worship me."

That night Lucullus remained in the cell with his friend. He sought by

every possible argument to shake his resolution. He appealed to every

motive that commonly influences men. He left no means of persuasion unused.

All in vain. The faith of Marcellus was too firmly fixed. It was founded

on the Rock of Ages, and neither the storm of violent threats nor the

more tender influences of friendship could weaken his determination.

"No," said he, "my course is taken and my choice is made. Come weal,

come woe, I must follow it out to the end. I know all that is before me.

I have weighed all the consequences of my action, but in spite of all I

will continue as I have begun."

"It is but a small thing that I ask," said Lucullus. "I do not wish you

to give up this religion forever, but only for the present. A terrible

persecution is now raging, and before its fury all must fall, whether

young or old, high or low. You have seen that no class or age is

respected. Pollio would have been saved if it had been possible. There

was a strong sympathy in his favor. He was young, and scarcely

accountable for his errors; he was also noble, the last of an ancient

family. But the law was inexorable, and he suffered its penalty. Cinna,

too, might have been overlooked. He was neither more nor less than a

madman. But so vehement is the zeal against Christians that even his

evident madness was no security whatever for him."

"I know it well. The Prince of Darkness struggles against the Church of

God, but it is founded on a rock, and the gates of hell cannot prevail

against it. Have I not seen the good, the pure, the noble, the holy, and

the innocent all suffer alike? Do I not know that there is no mercy for

the Christian? I knew it well long ago. I have always been prepared for

the consequences."

"Hear me, Marcellus. I have said that I asked but a small thing. This

religion which you prize so highly need not be given up. Keep it, if it

must be so. But make allowance for circumstances. Since the storm is

raging bow before it. Take the course of a wise man, not of a fanatic."

"What is it that you would have me to do?"

"It is this. In the course of a few years a change will take place.

Either the persecution will wear itself out, or a reaction will take

place, or the emperor may die and other rulers with different feelings

may succeed. It will then be safe to be a Christian. Then these people

who are now afflicted may come back from their hiding-places to occupy

their old places, and to rise to dignity and wealth. Remember this. Do

not therefore throw away a life which yet may be serviceable to the

state and happy to yourself. Cherish it for your own sake. Look about

you now. Consider all these things. Leave aside your religion for a

time, and return to that of the state. It need only be for a time. Thus

you may escape from present danger, and when happier times return you

may go back and be a Christian again."

"This is impossible, Lucullus. It is abhorrent to my soul. What, can I

thus be doubly a hypocrite? Would you ask me to perjure my immortal soul

to the world and to my God? Better to die at once by the severest

tortures that can be inflicted."

"You take such extreme views that I despair of saving you. Will you not

look at this subject rationally? It is not perjury, but policy; not

hypocrisy, but wisdom."

"God forbid that I should do this thing and sin against him!"

"Look further also. You will not only benefit yourself but others. These

Christians whom you love will be assisted by you far more than they are

now. In their present situation you know well that they are enabled to

live by the sympathy and assistance of those who profess the religion of

the state but in secret prefer the religion of the Christians. Do you

call these men hypocrites and perjurers? Are they not rather your

benefactors and friends?"

"These men have never learned the Christian's faith and hope as I have.

They have never felt the new birth of the soul as I have. They have not

known the love of God springing up within their hearts to give them new

feelings and hopes and desires. For them to sympathize with the

Christians and to help them is a good thing; but the Christian who could

be base enough to abjure his faith and deny the Saviour that redeemed

him, could never have enough generosity in his traitorous soul to assist

his forsaken brethren."

"Then, Marcellus, I have but one more offer to make, and I go. It is a

last hope. I do not know whether it will be possible or not. I will try

it, however, if I can but gain your consent. It is this. You need not

abjure your faith; you need not sacrifice to the gods; you need not do

anything whatever of which you disapprove. Let the past be forgotten.

Return again, not in heart, but in outward appearance, to what you were

before. You were then a gay, lighthearted soldier, devoted to your

duties. You never took any part in any religious services. You were

seldom present in the temples. You passed your time in the camp, and

your devotions were in private. You gathered your instruction from the

books of the philosophers and not from the priests. Be all this again.

Return to your duties. Appear again in public in company with me; again

join in pleasant conversation, and devote yourself to your old pursuits.

This will be easy and pleasant to do, and it will not require anything

that is base or distasteful. The authorities will overlook your absence

and your misconduct, and if they are not willing that you should be

restored to all your former honors, then you can be placed in your

former command in your old legion. All will then be well. A little

discretion will be needed, a wise silence, an apparent return to your

former round of duties. If you remain in Rome it will be thought that

the tidings of your conversion to Christianity was wrong; if you go

abroad it will not be known."

"I do not think, Lucullus, that the plan which you propose would be

possible for many reasons. Proclamations have been made about me,

rewards have been offered for my apprehension, and above all, my last

appearance in the Coliseum before the emperor himself was sufficient to

take away all hope of pardon. Yet even if it were possible I could not

consent. My Saviour cannot be worshiped in this way. His followers must

confess him openly. 'Whosoever,' he says, 'is ashamed to confess me

before men, of him will I be ashamed before my Father and the holy

angels.' To deny him in my life or in outward appearance is precisely

the same as denying him by the formal manner which the law lays down.

This I cannot do. I love him who first loved me and gave himself for me.

My highest joy is to proclaim him before men; to die for him will be my

noblest act, and the martyr's crown my most glorious reward."

Lucullus said no more, for he found that all persuasion was useless. The

remainder of the time was passed in conversation about other things.

Marcellus did not waste these last precious hours which he passed with

his friend. Filled with gratitude for his noble and generous affection,

he sought to recompense him by making him acquainted with the highest

treasure that man can possess--the religion of Christ.

Lucullus listened to him patiently, more through friendship than

interest. Yet some, at least, of Marcellus's words were impressed upon

his memory.

On the following day the trial took place. It was short and formal.

Marcellus was immovable, and received his condemnation with a calm

demeanor.

The afternoon of the same day was the time appointed for him to suffer.

He was to die, not by the wild beasts, nor by the hand of the gladiator,

but by the keener torments of death by fire.

It was in that place where so many Christians had already borne their

witness to the truth that Marcellus sealed his faith with his life. The

stake was placed in the center of the Coliseum, and the fagots were

heaped high around it.

Marcellus entered, led on by the brutal keepers, who added blows and

ridicule to the horrors of the approaching punishment. He looked around

upon the vast circle of faces, hard, cruel, and pitiless; he looked upon

the arena and thought of the thousands of Christians who had preceded

him in suffering, and had gone from thence to join the noble army of

martyrs who worship forever around the throne. He thought of the

children whose death he had witnessed, and recalled once more their

triumphant song,

"Unto Him that loved us,

To Him that washed us from our sins."

Now the keepers seized him rudely and led him to the stake, where they

bound him with strong chains so that escape was impossible.

"'I am now ready to be offered,'" murmured he, "'and the time of my

departure is at hand. . . . Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown

of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at

that day.'"

Now the torch was applied, and the flames rose up and dense volumes of

smoke concealed the martyr for a while from view. When it passed away he

was seen again standing amid the fire with upturned face and clasped hands.

The flames increased around him. Nearer and nearer they came, devouring

the fagots and enveloping him in a circle of fire. Now they threw over

him a black vail of smoke, again they dashed forward and licked him with

their forked tongues.

But the martyr stood erect, calm amid suffering, serene amid his

dreadful agony, by faith clinging to his Saviour. He was there though

they saw him not; his everlasting arm was round about his faithful

follower, and his Spirit inspired him.

Nearer grew the flames and yet nearer. Life, assailed more violently,

trembled in her citadel and the spirit prepared to wing its way to its

mansion of rest.

At last the sufferer gave a convulsive start, as though some sharper

pang flashed resistlessly through him. But he conquered his pain with a

violent effort. Then he raised his arms on high and feebly waved them.

Then, with a last effort of expiring nature, he cried out in a loud

voice "Victory!"

With the cry life seemed to depart, for he fell forward amid the rushing

flames, and the soul of Marcellus had ascended to the bosom of the Father.

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