_THE CITY OF COLONNADES._
[Illustration: Initial]
Strange things were going on at Antioch.
Antioch, the seat of the Roman government in Syria, was a centre in which
met all the peculiarities and eccentricities of the civilized world. It
was situated on the river Orontes, several miles above its confluence with
the sea. By an extensive system of artificial works the river was made
navigable for the largest vessels, so that Antioch was in rapport with the
maritime world. It was the city of amalgamations; the point of contact
between the East and the West; the receptacle of all races and nations.
Notwithstanding its wealth, beauty and splendor, the society of Antioch
was inconceivably corrupt and degraded. All kinds of strange doctrines and
unhealthy superstitions were rampant there. Magicians, sorcerers,
miracle-workers, impostors, buffoons and courtesans were in high favor
with all classes. Life and death were equally disregarded. Races, games,
fêtes, debauches, combats, processions, seemed to occupy the whole time of
the excitable and licentious populace.
Simon Magus, after spending three or four months in Egypt with Helena,
came to Antioch and began an extraordinary course of public teachings. It
was a rich field for his peculiar genius. He combined philosophy with
sorcery, theology with magic. Of his cruel deeds, his infernal plots, his
insane ambition the world was ignorant.
He was greatly changed. The inspiration of evil had taken demoniac
possession of him. He had grown leaner and darker. His eye, always
eloquent and powerful, was fierce and restless. He had a singular habit of
grasping at his breast, with an expression of suffering on his face, as if
a violent pain shot through his heart. He had lost much of that calm,
self-possessed, imposing exterior which commanded respect by its apparent
strength and dignity. He was louder in his speech, more rapid in his
gestures, prouder and more defiant in his attitude. This gained him a
larger but more vulgar audience.
The magician was on the eve of madness, if not actually mad.
It was the age of insanity. It was the age of imposture and false
miracles, of convulsion and persecution, of moral and physical turpitude,
of direful cruelty and bloodshed, of the wildest fanaticism, of the most
revolting excesses, of actual possession by devils. Nothing like it was
ever seen before or ever will be again, because all these things were the
effects and collateral issues of the spiritual combat between good and
evil, between Christ and hell; the throes of the great demons of past ages
before their final expulsion from their thrones and the inauguration of a
new spiritual power in the world.
Such was the state of society at Antioch when Simon Magus appeared in that
city and claimed to be an incarnation of the Deity, exercising miraculous
power. He seemed to be possessed of boundless wealth. The splendor of his
palace, the rare and gorgeous beauty of his equipage, his singular and
dazzling dress, the wild grandeur of his manner, the wonderful eloquence
of his speech, and the astounding feats of magic which he certainly did
perform, all created a bewildering impression on the excitable and
unthinking people of the City of Colonnades, as Antioch was called on
account of its architectural beauty.
On his first arrival he had directed his subtle energies to obtain the ear
and the faith of the ruler of the province, the Roman governor, whose name
was Lelius. The appliances which he brought to bear upon the heart, the
brain, the senses of this weak and vain man, were finally successful. In a
few weeks Lelius was not only the dupe, but the mere creature of Simon
Magus. Helena shared with her pretended husband the glory and the shame of
this royal conquest.
Such was the state of things when the apostle John arrived at Antioch with
the two unhappy fugitives—my sisters. They were attended by Mary Magdalen
in the humble capacity of servant. This zealous disciple of Christ had
kept modestly aloof from them in their prosperity; but when thrown
together by common sorrows and persecutions, she tendered her services and
proved through life a most faithful and efficient friend.
John obtained lodgings for the party with Salothel, the restored leper.
Hoping still further to shield them by drawing the pursuit after himself,
he traveled on westward as far as Ephesus, where he had friends, and where
he began preaching the new gospel of Christ. The sisters remained
concealed for a long time, until their fears were quieted and they began
to be intensely anxious to hear from Judea. They had always doubted the
story of my death, and were continually hoping to get news of me.
Emboldened by their long repose, Mary and Martha closely veiled took a
walk one afternoon with Salothel through the grand street of colonnades,
and sat down to rest in one of the beautiful public squares. A triumphant
procession in honor of the Roman arms was passing by; and it was precisely
in a great crowd, passing and repassing, that our recluses thought there
was least danger of being specially observed.
Suddenly two men stopped near them, and one gazed earnestly at the
sisters. That man was Simon Magus, thoroughly-disguised. He had received
letters from his old disciple Magistus, telling him how his nieces had
eluded his vigilant pursuit, and requesting him to keep a lookout for
them. Simon also had not forgotten the defeat of his great scheme at
Bethany, and he desired above all things to get possession of Mary for his
own private ends.
It is needless to say that when a man of Simon’s genius and power gets
upon the fresh trail of a poor helpless woman, it is but a short time
before he secures his prey. Mary, innocent, unsuspecting, loving creature
as she was, the very next day was decoyed from the house of Salothel by a
very old gray-haired, heavenly-faced man, a devout Christian, who managed
to see her alone, and who wished to conduct her without a moment’s delay
to her suffering brother Lazarus. Of course the devout old Christian was a
disguised emissary of Simon; and Mary found herself immured in a secret
chamber of his palace.
What to do with her? was now the question.
Simon Magus had such intense faith in the incantations of Ja-bol-he-moth,
the old demon of the Lybian desert, that he was ready to abandon his great
theological mission and convey Mary to the ruins of the ancient city which
was buried in the sand. If he had permitted Helena to remain in possession
of his palace under the protection of Lelius, that beautiful person would
have approved his enterprise, and would have given him her blessing with
her farewell. But Simon was obstinately resolved that she should accompany
him, and share the dangers and the glory of the expedition.
Helena positively refused to return to Egypt; and as she was as fierce and
implacable as she was beautiful, Simon was at last obliged to submit to a
compromise. Mary was not to be conveyed into Africa; but she was to be
murdered, her heart extracted, burned into a cinder and pulverized, to
constitute a magical powder of extraordinary virtues. Thus Simon was to be
gratified by an addition to his necromantic treasures, and Helena was to
enjoy the dissipation of Antioch.
“And how it will delight our friend Magistus!” said Helena.
Simon felt too insecure in his new surroundings to venture upon the secret
murder of the young girl. It might be difficult to dispose of the body
after the heart was abstracted. The untried creatures and slaves around
him might discover the deed and betray him. His new claim to divinity
would be sadly compromised by his sudden exposure as an assassin.
Simon and Helena devised a cunning plan by which they could attain their
ends without the least danger to themselves. Simon represented to Lelius
that a strange and dangerous conspiracy against government and religion
was taking root in Antioch. He described Jesus as a subtle impostor, who,
under the cloak of extraordinary sanctity, meditated the grandest
political revolutions. He painted the disciples in the blackest colors as
the secret enemies of peace and order.
“The leader,” said he, “of these turbulent spirits was crucified by
Pontius Pilate, whose probity and leniency are known to the whole world.
His followers, driven from Jerusalem, have spread as firebrands in
different countries; and secretly associated together, they are now
plotting against the stability of all existing civil and religious
institutions.”
He claimed to have discovered their plots by magical power; and he
solemnly assured his credulous listener that he had not exaggerated their
importance or danger. He predicted that in a few years a decree of
extermination would be issued by all civilized powers against these
people, and he begged Lelius to initiate those measures of destruction
which would entitle him to the gratitude of mankind.
“I know,” he continued, “that one of the most cunning of all these
emissaries is now in the city: a woman, beautiful, accomplished,
designing; concealing under the garb of modesty and humility, the spirit
of universal anarchy. She anointed this Jesus as king in the presence of
his chosen officers and lieutenants on the night before his grand entry
into Jerusalem, when the mad populace shouted his claims to the throne of
Judea. To satisfy your mind of the true nature of this formidable doctrine
growing up around us, let me bring this woman before you and question her
in your presence.”
Lelius assented to this proposition, and Mary was led or rather dragged
into the august presence of the Roman governor. Simon Magus proceeded to
question her in the most adroit manner, drawing from her exactly such
answers as were best calculated to shock and disgust the ignorant and
arrogant pagan who held in his single hand the power of life and death.
Mary, terrified and unsuspecting, answered all his queries in a simple and
truthful manner. She was thus made to say, that she had known and loved
Jesus of Nazareth; that she had anointed him on the eve of his royal entry
into Jerusalem; that she believed his teachings; that he had risen from
the dead and ascended into heaven; that she prayed to him as God; that he
was coming again to restore Israel and to judge the world.
This seemed like the wildest folly and fanaticism to the proud Roman; and
he smiled at the thought that there were people with the semblance of
rationality who could credit such absurdities. But Simon’s work was only
half done. Questioning and cross-questioning his artless victim, he drew
from her facts of a far more serious and practical bearing.
Mary believed, and candidly acknowledged it, that all the religions
sanctioned by the laws of the Roman empire, were false religions; that
their gods were no gods at all, or demons; that their boasted oracles were
evil spirits; that the tendency of these religions was only evil, and that
their devotees were living in sin and doomed to hell. Moreover, that the
religion of Christ was to supersede them all; that no compromise could be
permitted; that it was a life-and-death struggle between the old religion
and the new gospel.
In addition she was made to say—never dreaming to what conclusions her
admissions were leading her pagan judge—that Jesus had set apart a great
many persons, twelve at one time and seventy at another, to go forth into
the world and preach this gospel; that he had given them miraculous power
wherewith to achieve their ends; that angels delivered them from prisons;
that they could strike their enemies blind or dumb or powerless; that they
could raise the dead; that they had a secret organization with signs and
symbols; that they had started or were going to start on their grand
mission which was to overturn the powers of pagan darkness and prepare the
minds of men for the universal reign of Christ at his second coming.
When Mary was removed by the guards, Simon had no difficulty in convincing
Lelius that his own allegations had been well founded. Torturing the
meaning of Mary’s words and giving them a purely literal construction, he
inflamed the indignation and zeal of Lelius to such a pitch, that he
despatched private letters to the governors of the neighboring provinces,
informing them of the existence, motives and plans of this new and
desperate conspiracy against all that was stable, glorious and venerable
in the civilizations of Greece and Rome.
The next thing was to determine what should be done to extinguish a heresy
which meant revolution, in his own province. To this conference Helena was
admitted; for Aspasia had less influence over Pericles than Helena over
Lelius. The Roman governor was weak-minded, easily led, and without moral
sensibility. He was passionately fond of new sensations, extraordinary
excitements, and the bloody sports of the amphitheatre. He was soon
induced to sanction a magnificent scheme concocted by that subtle brain
which received its inspiration from the old magician of Pharaoh.
Our good uncle Beltrezzor arrived at Antioch the day after Mary’s
disappearance. He found the household of Salothel in the profoundest
consternation and distress. He was welcomed with frantic joy, and joined
them in the most painful and laborious search for his lost niece. Day
after day these sad, anxious souls traversed the city, walking, looking,
inquiring everywhere. Among half a million or more of people the lost are
not easily found, especially if cunning and unscrupulous power gets them
in its clutches and conceals them from view.
In the course of his inquiries, Beltrezzor discovered that Simon Magus
lived in the city in great grandeur and authority. A fearful suspicion
entered his mind; for he remembered the night-scene in Bethany, and the
foiled abduction. He did not communicate his fears to Martha or the rest,
but insisted upon their remaining in the utmost seclusion, while he
conducted the search alone. He said he had discovered something important,
but which demanded great caution and secresy; and he endeavored to inspire
a hope which he did not feel.
The next day, passing a crowd in one of the squares, he observed the
herald of Lelius reading a proclamation to the people, which excited the
greatest enthusiasm. He came near and listened to its second reading.
It announced officially, with great pomp of words, that the government,
determined to protect the safety and morals of the people, had taken
measures to extirpate a certain secret association of conspirators, which
had been founded in Judea by one Jesus Christ, whom Pontius Pilate had
crucified as an impostor and revolutionist. That the first step in this
righteous undertaking, would be the public execution of a young woman, who
was an agent and emissary of these outlaws, and who had anointed the said
Jesus king of the Jews, according to the old Jewish custom of installing
into the royal office. That in order to strike terror into these
evil-doers, and to warn them of the fate which awaited them if they
attempted to teach the doctrines of Jesus, the young woman, Mary of
Bethany, high-priestess of this new and dangerous religion, would be
thrown to an immense Næmean lion just arrived from Africa, in the grand
amphitheatre on the afternoon of a certain day which would be the second
Sabbath following, according to the Jewish calendar. That, to illustrate
the clemency of the government, a full pardon would be given to the said
Mary if she publicly recanted her heresies and revealed the names of the
other conspirators.
Beltrezzor stood aghast at this terrible document, full of false
affirmations. The old man’s heart was pierced with grief and terror in
contemplating the frightful toils into which his innocent and beautiful
niece had fallen. To conceal the awful fact from Martha was his first
thought—and then he was prepared for any labor, for any sacrifice to
rescue Mary.
The whole city was in a blaze of excitement over this new sensation. It
was the great topic of conversation everywhere.
And her crime? Oh! said the people, it is terrible! A female atheist!
denying all the gods, and worshiping a Jew who was crucified between two
thieves!
All agreed that she deserved her fate; and that it would be the most
entertaining sight of the season, and a death-blow to the conspiracy.
“And see!” said they, “the noble mercy of Lelius! If she recants at any
time before the opening of the amphitheatre, she will be released.”
Then they all agreed that it would be very cowardly and disgusting in her
to recant. They admired an unbending and not a repentant sinner.
Beltrezzor was a plain, childlike man, having no ingenuity for indirect
attacks, or for unraveling difficult questions. Thoroughly truthful and
honest, he always went to work in an open, straightforward way. He felt
that, in the great work before him, he had but one hope, one resource—his
immense wealth.
If he had loved money more than he did, his hope would have been greater;
for he would have believed that all men could be bought with a bribe.
Unpurchasable himself, he doubted the power of money. Still he was
compelled to test its efficacy, for it was plainly his only resource.
He studied the situation thoroughly, deliberately. He became convinced
that the whole thing was the conjoint work of Simon Magus and the Roman
governor. He was sure that Simon Magus, a fanatic almost to lunacy, could
not be deterred or withheld from a favorite project by pecuniary
considerations. The government could not withdraw its proclamation without
a sacrifice of dignity; and if Lelius were approached on the subject, he
would probably refer it to Simon, by whom all proposals would be rejected.
He thought it best to keep away from these high dignitaries altogether,
and to sound the subordinates. He was afraid, moreover, that if Simon
learned of a wealthy element working in Mary’s behalf, he would increase
his vigilance and double his guards, so that bribery and escape would be
alike impossible. It was best to let him believe that Mary was alone,
helpless and friendless.
He visited the amphitheatre and sought out the keeper of the prison
connected with that immense establishment. The keeper had already been
questioned out of his patience by crowds of people to whom he gave surly
and unsatisfactory answers. He was a Gaul by birth, a Roman soldier by
captivity and necessity, Euphorbus by name. He was taciturn and apparently
ill-natured.
Beltrezzor went straight to the point. He asked him no questions. He said
softly:
“A word to you in a private room may be valuable.”
Euphorbus looked fixedly at him a moment, and led the way to a small
office within. Beltrezzor produced a sparkling gem of considerable value.
“I wish to speak with the young woman who is confined in the
amphitheatre.”
“Impossible!” said the keeper, gruffly.
“I am her uncle.”
“No admittance to anyone on pain of death,” said the Gaul, casting a
wistful eye on the jewel.
Beltrezzor drew forth a precious stone of remarkable size and immense
value.
“These are yours, my friend, for a single brief interview with my niece.”
“Hark you!” said Euphorbus, taking the jewels into his hand. “I am willing
to gratify and befriend you; but there are four Roman soldiers at the door
of her cell, who permit no one but myself to go in or out.”
“Are they not under your command?”
“No. They belong to Simon Magus, and obey only his word.”
“Lead me to them.”
The old man made a touching appeal to these rough men for permission to
see his niece. Some large gold coins that he offered them had more
influence than his eloquence. The assurance of the keeper that he would
shield them as far as possible, decided the matter; and Beltrezzor was
admitted into Mary’s dungeon.
The meeting between uncle and niece was affecting in the extreme. Mary had
greatly changed since her imprisonment. A deadly pallor pervaded her
beautiful countenance, and she had the air of one whose delicate nerves
had almost given way under prolonged terrors. The old man clasped her in
his arms, and the bitter tears fell from his face upon her golden hair.
“Oh uncle!” said she, “is it not horrible to contemplate? A young girl
stripped and thrown to a lion before thousands of people! Are they not
devils in human form who can witness such things?”
She trembled; her eyeballs started with horror; the cold drops stood on
her forehead; she clung frantically to her uncle.
“Oh! I have thought of it,” she said, “until I shall go mad! And then to
hear the lion roaring at night! It is fearful. He is kept very, very near
me. Is not that cruel, cruel? I hear every sound he makes. I hear him
growling and crunching when they feed him. I hear him yawning and whining
as he impatiently paces his cage. Then at night he roars as if he thought
he was in the pathless forest. Oh it freezes me! I cannot eat. I cannot
sleep. I shall die!”
The head of the young woman fell upon the old man’s breast.
“Have you never thought, my child,” he said, tremulously, “of saving your
life by renouncing your religion?”
“No, uncle! never! never!”
“That’s a brave girl!” said he, tenderly kissing her forehead; “and you
shall be saved without it.”
“I am not afraid of death, uncle, but of the lion. But I doubt not—oh! I
doubt not that Jesus will support me even in that last extremity. I
cannot, however, control my fears.”
The old man cheered her with many tender words and promises of help and
assurances of speedy rescue. Promising to visit her twice every day, he
departed to mature some plan for her deliverance.
That evening he was plunged in a deep and painful reverie. Neither Martha
nor Mary Magdalen could engage him in conversation. He sat with head
between his hands. He retired early.
During the night Martha heard groans issuing from his chamber. She lit her
lamp and entered softly. Beltrezzor, pale and haggard, lay upon his back
with his face upturned to heaven. He had been weeping in his sleep. His
lips were moving as if in prayer.
Faithful, loving old man!
[Illustration: Ornament]
[Illustration: Ornament]