SOWING AND REAPING
“Blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”
The persecution of the disciples of the New Faith formed a notable epoch
in the history both of Judaism and Christianity. It was the first stage of
an agitation, which, though subsequently losing some of its local
intensity, widened and deepened until it changed the religious complexion
of nations and the world. It marked the decadence of the existing
ceremonial system, and at the same time dispersed widely the seeds of a
vital faith which no opposition has since been able to stamp out.
History confirms the apparent paradox, that living truth has thriven
through repression; and even persecution. Stagnation and formalism have
been its greater hindrances. It has such an inherent vitality that
agitation and antagonism may justly be regarded as important factors in
the evolutionary process which brings it into manifestation. It develops
true vigor through the exercise of overcoming. Sometimes the Spirit seems
to slumber beneath the crust of stagnation, until active hostility
quickens its dormant energy and enables it to break forth. Good,
therefore, is often nourished from seeming evil.
The intent of the chief priests and elders was to “slay the young child;”
but instead they multiplied him. The New Faith was like a fire, and the
desperate effort to beat it out only scattered its brands among the
endless combustible material of human hearts. Even at this early period in
Jerusalem, the little flock that was apprehended and imprisoned formed but
a small fraction of the three thousand souls which already had been
possessed by the Spirit of Truth.
Before the ninth hour of the day upon which the assembly were thrown into
prison, Gamaliel was informed of the wholesale arrest and persecution.
Believing that the flight of Amabel would naturally be to the Upper
Chamber, it occurred to him that peradventure she might be among the women
who had been put in ward. The situation was intolerable. The thought that
his own beautiful child, well beloved and delicately reared, was probably
imprisoned with the offscouring of the Holy City, almost drove him beside
himself. As he looked in upon the recesses of his own soul, there was a
violent tempest, in which pride, disgrace, love, and anger were each
striving for mastery, and boiling in wild confusion.
The self‐poised, reputable, and wise Educator of Jerusalem could hardly
persuade himself of his own identity. How the events of a few hours had
changed the whole world! He, to whom thousands had come from far and near
to learn wisdom, not able to rule his own house and teach his own
offspring! Oh, how much better if Amabel had quietly passed into the
Beyond, as the physicians had predicted during her late illness! Then the
better self made itself heard,—
“Oh, how I love her! I cannot give up my child!”
Bringing his thoughts to immediate events, the question again thrust
itself upon him, Is she in prison? He was minded to seek an audience with
Caiaphas, and lay the whole matter before him privately, but upon further
thought, his pride and dignity revolted.
At length, realizing the strange fact that Saulus had suddenly mounted to
the virtual leadership and control of the persecution, the Rabban resolved
to send for him. He felt that, notwithstanding his fiery spirit, the
influence of their former relation would make such a conference more
tolerable than any communication with the chief priests. It was
humiliating, but what better could be done? He therefore despatched a
faithful messenger to the inn of the Sheepmarket, begging Saulus to come
to the palace, upon a pressing matter, without delay. The intervening
moments seemed all too long; but at length the former disciple, whose will
had now become so imperious in the Holy City, was ushered into his
presence. After the usual greetings, Gamaliel introduced the subject which
lay so heavy upon his heart.
“O my young friend and former disciple! I am in sore distress, and have
sought audience with thee to ask thy favor in a matter of deep concern to
myself and my office.”
“I have much respect unto thy wishes, O worthy Rabban! and will listen to
thy request.”
“I am minded of the great influence which hath come to thee, O son of
Benoni! both with the chief priests and all the people, by reason of thy
zeal for the established ordinances. Before making known unto thee my
special desire, I would inquire regarding thy purposes, and those of the
Sanhedrin, concerning the members of the new sect which hath appeared in
our midst?”
“We purpose to uproot and bring to naught the heresy as quickly as
possible, for the good of our religion and nation. If peradventure there
should be delay, and it become scattered abroad, behold great harm will
come to our people and their traditions. Surely, as a teacher in Israel,
thou must be mindful of this peril.”
“I have always felt persuaded, O Saulus, that every false philosophy would
soon come to an end. I am mindful of the foolishness of the doctrines of
the new sect as thou art, and agree that they are harmful; but I am
persuaded that, having no root, they will soon wither away. Dost thou not
feel that persecution is unduly bitter, and that many who have been
deluded will soon come back to the religion of their fathers if left alone
for a little time?”
“Nay, worthy Rabban, thine age and much learning hath holden thine eyes to
the urgency of the peril which hangeth over our people. There can be no
better service to God and Israel than to kill this seditious conspiracy.
If our righteous persecution be sharp and quick, behold it will save much
trouble. It will prevent the spread of the blasphemy, and confine the
severity to a small number. It were therefore _merciful_ to persecute even
to the death the betrayers of the Circumcision, before they multiply their
proselytes. Of this the Sanhedrin is fully persuaded, and hath given me
full authority to make an end of the matter.”
Gamaliel recognized the hopelessness of further argument, and keenly felt
how powerless he was to bring about any moderation of the spirit and
purpose of the persecution. His opinion of the quality of the New Faith
differed little from that of Saulus; but they were utterly unlike in their
philosophy of its cure, and in their views of toleration.
One who persecutes or murders for “God’s sake,” or for the interest of
some religion, as universal history demonstrates, is of all cruel men the
most cruel. Inquisitors have thought that they had a heavy duty laid upon
them of “saving souls.”
“It is unseemly to continue the argument,” said Gamaliel; “and now I will
make known unto thee the special favor which I crave at thy hands. I
beseech thee, for my sake, as thy former teacher and friend, that thou
make no mention of what I am about to ask, lest it bring dishonor upon
me.”
“I freely grant thy request,” replied Saulus.
The young zealot was greatly surprised at the unwonted earnestness of the
Rabban, and wondered what his petition might be.
Brushing away a few tears that he vainly tried to suppress, the distressed
father took Saulus by the hand, and looked urgently into his face as if to
make a plea.
“O my young friend! behold my loved and dutiful daughter hath been
beguiled of the heresy. To‐day, before the third hour, she left me that
she might join these deluded people, thus giving up my favor, affection,
home, and honor. Peradventure she went directly to the Upper Chamber, and
hath gone to prison with the other women. Behold my sorrow!”
“She hath chosen her own portion!” said Saulus unconcernedly.
“O Saulus!” said the Rabban pleadingly. “She is young, and knoweth little
of the heresy, being deceived.”
“I will visit the prison, and find if she be among the women. What is her
name?”
“Amabel.”
“If she be with them, I will command her release, and direct that she
return to her father’s house.”
“I thank thee for thy great favor! After being cast into prison, I am
persuaded that when released she will show her former wisdom in this
matter.”
Gamaliel brightened at the renewal of his own hope, and added,—
“Peradventure it is well! I perceive that nothing less than some such
experience would have turned her. Now I soon shall see my daughter!”
Saulus took his leave, and proceeded directly to the prison.
“Hast thou among the heretics a young woman called Amabel?” asked Saulus
of the keeper.
Looking over the roll, he replied in the affirmative.
“Release her, and command her to go to her father’s house!”
Saulus disdained to make any explanation, and left at once, without
waiting to see her. Gamaliel had requested that his name be not mentioned,
and it was therefore impossible that she should be conducted to the
palace. It would lead to recognition.
The jailer went to the cell where Amabel was incarcerated, and unbarring
the heavy door, proclaimed,—
“By order of Saulus, deputy of the Sanhedrin, behold thou art released,
and commanded to go to thy father’s house!”
She passed out of the dark damp interior into the sunshine, and
disappeared in the crowded street.
Whither would she go? Her father’s house had been closed against her.
Hesitating but a moment, she turned her back toward Mount Zion, and
passing northward, continued along the narrow street that led beyond
Hezekiah’s Pool, at length coming to the home of Serenus. She knocked at
the humble door, and was warmly received and ministered unto by his
mother, who welcomed her as her own daughter.
Saulus returned to the Sheepmarket near the close of the eventful day,
feeling that his work was well begun.
The more prominent leaders in the sedition had been gathered in, and were
to await his persuasive tactics to force their sworn renunciation of the
New Faith, and blasphemy of its prophet. Failing in this, adequate
punishment would be meted out under his direction, and at his convenience.
He felt a peculiar pride that he had the honor of being the chief
instrument in the hands of the God of Israel to correct, not only
religious, but political transgression. Among the circle at the inn, he
was received as a hero and public benefactor. Cassia bestowed her
congratulation, and was delighted with his campaign of persecution.
“O my devoted Saulus! thou art a brave leader, chosen of the Lord to
defend our people and punish their enemies.”
“Thy words are sweet unto me,” replied Saulus, as they seated themselves
in a secluded recess of the court, while the twilight fell upon them. He
put his arm around her light form, and drew her close by his side. She was
very happy. During a few moments of silence, her heart was so full of
golden dreams of the future, that she wished she might look in and behold
it, as in a mirror. The music of fancy, unheard without, filled her soul
with melody; and amid stirring scenes, her lover was before her day and
night. The embrace of his arm tightened, and she nestled her head upon his
shoulder. Saulus was transported to a new world as he felt her silken
locks and warm breath upon his cheek, and for a little time he forgot
persecutions and prisons. Following the swift flight of his imagination,
he saw before him, not only his complete triumph in the contest he was
waging, but a heaven upon earth, soon to begin, with the full fruition of
his love, and the possession of the idol which for years had ruled his
heart.
That wonderful intensity of nature which made Saulus a fiery persecutor
rendered him a most ardent lover. There was nothing commonplace or
mediocre within him. The whole fabric of his character was woven of
extremes, all of which were in unceasing vibration.
Would the love of Saulus, now so exclusively centred upon one personality
with the intensity of a white heat, ever become broadened, purified,
disciplined, and diffused? Could this stream of soul‐force, now so narrow
and vehement, ever spread out, and in gentle volume nourish barren brown
fields, clothe them with living green, and make them bud and blossom? No!
says the world. Impossible! replies sensuous logic and intellectual
acumen. “Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?”
The persecution, now so thoroughly inaugurated, raged with unabated
ferocity. Dark and cruel weeks dragged their weary course into months, and
the cry of martyrs was unceasing. But the heroism of the disciples of the
New Faith was a marvel. Under the inquisition of Saulus, men and women
were scourged, buffeted, put in confinement, and stoned; and though a few
recanted, nearly all were faithful. The courage and spiritual inspiration
which had possessed Stephanos continued, and in many cases even stoning to
death produced only painless transition. The prisoners healed each other’s
distresses, and often the persecutors themselves received from their
victims some of the outward fruits of the power of the New Faith. But the
bigoted inquisitors seemed possessed of a collective insanity or
demoniacal obsession, outbreaking waves of which abound in history.
It would be discordant to the purpose and philosophy which these pages aim
to express through depicted events to enlarge upon this period. A tragic
story of terrible things that abounded during this spell of unloosed
animal passion might be dramatized, which would be well within the limits
of the admitted facts of history.(7) The theory that a realism which
plunges into the depths of harrowing circumstance is either wholesome or
artistic will not here be followed. It is true that every tale built upon
the principles of idealism, and the portrayal of idealistic character,
cannot do without a setting and background of contrasts which will bring
truth into high relief, but the dark shades should be kept in
subordination.
At length the time came when the New Faith, like a smothered and beaten
conflagration, appeared to be thoroughly stamped out in Jerusalem. Every
suspected house had been visited, and every implicated man or woman
tortured or imprisoned, except such as had fled to remote provinces, which
were not a few. But Saulus was not content with the complete conquest of
the Jewish capital. Finding that some had slipped from his grasp, he
began, like Alexander, to look about for other worlds to conquer. Being
informed that a few had fled to Damascus, and were there promulgating the
heresy, he made ready for an expedition to that city, and received from
the Sanhedrin the necessary authority and equipment.
The terrible strain of conflicting emotion and surging passion which had
rent the soul of Saulus, fearfully told upon him. His haggard face,
nervous unrest, sleepless nights, and hellish visions, produced an
epileptic condition which appeared in the form of occasional paroxysms,
and its scars were never afterwards fully removed. They were ever a “stake
in the flesh.”
At times, during these feverish months of delirium, the scourgings of
conscience were terrible. But the more desperate his torment, the more he
hardened himself. Nightly visions of strange horror disquieted him. Often
during the darkness, the sighs and groans of his victims echoed and re‐
echoed in his ears. He refused to be alone at night, and under plea of
illness arranged for one of his comrades of the Inner Circle to share his
apartment. His brief periods of strange relenting were not mentioned to
his friends, and on no account would he have had Cassia suspect them. Each
short interval of moral upheaval was followed by a more desperate
determination to push the persecution. To have every nerve tense with a
hot pursuit for his prey had peculiar charm, and yielded a thrill of
delight to that part of his nature which he thought to be himself.
Toward the last of the persecution, the flashes of goodness and moral
sanity increased in frequency. Seeming to come up from within, they
staggered his understanding. He reproached himself for such occasional
weaknesses. Each time as they passed off he braced himself anew, and
hastened to his appointed work.
The last evening of the sojourn of Saulus in the Holy City was drawing to
a close, and his preparations for an early departure the next morning were
complete. The day had been sultry, and the family group at the inn were
upon the house‐top. The full moon, which silvered the broad expanse of
towers and battlements, seemed to wear a sinister and ghastly aspect; and
there was a redness in its sheen which gave Saulus a slight inward
shudder. The shadows cast by surrounding objects were unwontedly sharp and
black, and he felt preternaturally sensitive and expectant. The stirring
events of his life in the Judean capital surged in a quick torrent through
his mind, as if painted upon a swiftly revolving canvas. Love, hate, joy,
despair, and ambition, sprinkled with the ashes of an inner and strange
remorse, danced in chaotic confusion before him. Unwelcome and forbidding
enemies seemed to be prodding him from within. Had he not done his duty
well?
Cassia interrupted his revery, and together they sought a retired corner
as they were wont. A long converse followed. Mutual vows were exchanged
and renewed, and plans made for the consummation of their union upon the
return of Saulus from his campaign in Damascus. After a long‐continued
rehearsal of mutual visions of present and future bliss, the moment for
parting was at hand. Saulus was about to arise from his seat; but with
eyes suddenly fixed upon vacancy, he gave a quick gasp and sank back.
“What is it, Saulus? thou tremblest and art pale! Art thou ill? _O
Saulus!_”
Cassia threw her fair white arms around his neck to reassure him. After a
brief conflict with the unknown, but with no effort to disengage himself
from her soft embrace, he replied,—
“Nay, little one! I am well! ’Twas but a passing shudder! Some disquieting
fancies seize me at unwonted and inconvenient seasons.”
“O Saulus! thou art so brave and good! But thou hast not seemed well of
late! O my hero! What _can_ it be?”
“I wot not. I am persuaded that I perform every duty to which I am called
in no uncertain manner. But at times, peradventure I am under a spell. My
heart stands still, and my limbs shiver. I see something near at hand
which is not of earth, and the darkness seems full of terrible shapes. But
I spurn and defy them! It is but a passing weakness, and soon will fade
out. Between my little one and the punishment of heretics my mind will be
so full that no more idle fancies can steal in. See! I am well now! I am
strong! Peace be with thee! ’Twill be but for a short season, little one,
when behold, thou art mine, and I am thine forever!”
A final embrace, and a whispering of eternal love, and they parted.
Saulus reached his chamber in a very uncertain mood. Despite the brave
words just uttered, and with his comrade soundly sleeping near by, the
very silence seemed oppressive and retributive. The atmosphere was charged
with malignity, and every breath feverish and bitter. He tried desperately
to fasten his thoughts upon Cassia, so as to shut out dire fancies. Thus
for a few moments he would perch upon empyrean heights, only to be quickly
cast down into horrible chasms.
“A mind not to be chang’d by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”
* * * * * * * * * *
A thick mist of delirium seemed to gather in the darkness, and nameless
Horrors danced around and leered at him.
“Oh, for sleep! Come, oh, come, oblivion, and blot me out! Why was I ever
born? Have I a demon within me? Am I myself or It? No! Away! I dare and
defy thee! O God of Israel! I serve thee, and nothing shall shake me!”
Finally, from sheer exhaustion, and in a cold sweat, he fell into a
troubled sleep. But phantoms in kaleidoscopic array peopled his dreams. At
length three loud raps at the door aroused him, and froze the blood in his
veins. There It stood!
“O heaven! mercy! There! there! It points its bony finger at me! Guilty?
_No! no!_ I am righteous—_righteous!_”
He leaped from his couch, and ran to his comrade and shook him.
“Look! look! dost thou not see It?”
“I see nothing! Saulus, quiet thyself! behold all is well!”
Saulus crept back to his couch, more uncertain who and what he was than
ever.
A hellish torment was within and without!
* * * * * * * * * *
As the first faint flush of dawn entered through the casement of his
chamber, turning the blackness into gray, Saulus awoke from a half‐
conscious despair, and, wonder of wonders, a feeling of heavenly harmony
possessed his soul! Peace, like a broad, glassy river, was borne in upon
him.
“Am I Saulus?”
“Calm on the listening ear of night
Come Heaven’s melodious strains.”
Iridescent tints of beauty filled the room. His soul floated through, and
was bathed in a symphony of harmonious sound‐waves, sweeter than a
thousand harps of Æolia. The atmosphere seemed charged with an impersonal
and universal love, and its message was written in letters of light upon
the walls of his chamber. The fragrance of roses was wafted in upon his
bewildered senses. A heavenly chorus of benedictions, distant, but
enchanting in quality, reached him, as though echoed and re‐echoed through
long corridors. He felt his soul expanding and responding, as he seemed to
inhale a spirit of inspiration. An angelic visitor in white robes stood
before him, and whispered, “I am Prophecy,” and with a winning smile
pointed upward. What a vision! What brightness! What beauty!
“Have I died, and is this paradise? But see! It begins to fade! Stay, Oh,
_stay_! Leave me not! _No! no! no!_”
It had gone, but the room was still—so still! The silence might almost be
felt. What a strange calmness! The soul of Saulus was as placid as the
mirror‐like surface of a pool untouched by a zephyr. He heard a voice,
distinct, but so low and sweet that he could not tell whether it were
audible or in his soul.
“Saulus! I am the divine image within thee,—thy real self! I am spirit,
and possess the deeps of thy Being. I am the quickened but unmanifest
Saulus. In thy consciousness thou dost mistake a false and perverted self
for me. I am yet entombed! Bid me come forth!”
* * * * * * * * * *
The morning dawned brightly, and found Saulus as he was wont. Oh, how
vivid the visions! It seemed as if he had wandered for a whole night in
the infernal regions, and anon been transported for a brief morning hour
to heaven. How utterly indescribable!
“What meaneth this? Oh, that I might grasp that heavenly condition! But it
is gone, utterly gone!”
Time lingers not, and the appointed hour for departure was close at hand.
He hastily arose, and made his final preparations for the long journey.
His comrades, who were to accompany him, were already waiting, and
impatient for the start. Waving Cassia a final adieu, as she looked down
from her casement, Saulus and his retinue wound rapidly northward through
the narrow streets, and passed out through the Damascus Gate. Before the
sun had climbed far above the horizon they had left the Holy City well
behind.