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(oLm

»i

' ■

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

THE

OR,

HISTORICAL RECORDS

OF THE

Great Amphitheatre of Ancient Rome,

TENTH EDITION,
t vol. nmo, ddth ektra, %x 50 ; lamo, cloth, |^t tides and edges, |a 00.

" More acceptable because more needed."— Z#Mrr o/Ptut IX.

*' Golden BooV."-iCiviMCatio/ica.

" All that could be wished for."— Boston Pilot.

'* An exceedingly interesting and valuable vaik..^'*— Cincinnati Enqnirer.

*' An extraordinary voxk."— Cincinnati Catholic Telegraph.

'* The author's litcrarjr reputation has received the u>probation and en-
comiums of the highest critical authorities."-^/r/M Canadian,

"English critics have placed it side by side with the ' Fabiobi' of Cardinal
Wiseman."— C0r<Av«// Sentinel.

** A work of rare merit, clothed in elegance of dassic diction and the charms
of poetic imageiy." — Snjfalo Catholic Union.

** The learned author has ^ven us a most interesting book." — Toronto Globe.

^ We commend this work to be read in every family."

Archbishop LymcA, Toronto.

" I am perfectly charmed with the *■ Martyrs of the Coliseum.' I told the
Benziger Brothers of this city to send for a hundred copies, the sale of which
I would guarantee. Your work does you much honor, out, what you infinitely
prefer, does and will do so much good to Catholic and nou-Catholic readers.
Give the public the benefit of your promised ^ Victims of the Mamertine.'

Archbishop Purcsll, Cincinnati.

** It was a happy thought that inspired you to write the ' Martyrs of the Coli-
seum.' You nave been exceedingly happy in your choice pf materials and in
your manipulation of them. Your book reads vith all the charms of a beau-
tiful romance, whilst it edifies and instructs, filling the heart with hgly thoughu
and nourishing the soul with piety. One of our greatest v/ants in this country
is a Catholic literature that will entice our people to read, and will at the same
time instruct and improve them. ConsideraUe efforts have been made to sup-
ply this want, but a great deal remains -to be done. Your excellent book is a
noble contribution toward this good and holy work. In the ' Martvrs of the
Coliseum ' you have uncovered a rich mine of most edifying Catholic literature,
and I pray God to give you the health and leisure necessary to enable you to
dig up a long-buried wealth for the glory of God's Church and the good of
souls.^' Bishop Walsh, London, Ont.

" I am happy to be able to add my recommendation and approval of your in-
structive and entertaining work, the ' Martyrs of the Coliseum,' to the many
favorable and even flattering approbations already jzivten hy learned and con-
scientious Prelates." S. V. Ryan, Bishop of Buflalo.

'* I have taken your beautiful work with me to the Coliseum, and there read
it in tears." Thb Countkss Stackhool.

, THE

Uler froa till Bdj Fiibr SecimBuiidus ihit Work.

Rev. Sir : Our Most Holy Father has desired me to signify to you that
he has been pleased to receive, with the annexed letters of homage, the volume
published by you, entitled '* The Martyrs of the Coliseum."

Your work is the more acceptable to his Holiness as in these days of bitter-
ness and impiety it is the more needed ; for whilst the enemies of religion and
imitators of pagan outrage have cast deep profanation on the sanctity of that
place, consecrated with the blood of so many martyrs, removing the very em-
blems of religious worship by which it was adorned, and depriving the faithful
of the privilege of praying in its sanctified precincts, truly your work cannot
lack a special utility, since it seeks to preserve the due veneration of that holy
place and to cherish the pious memory of the glorious conquests there gained by
the Martyrs of Christ. Wherefore^ his Holiness has been graciously pleased to
impart to you the Apostolic Benediction, which we pray God may propitiously

extend to you.

Your most humble and devoted servant, '

JOANNES SIMEONI, Secretary.

Rbv. a. J. O'REILLY, Miss. Ap., Toronto.
Rome : Given at the College of the Propaganda, March 4, 1874.

Becmendalion of his Grace tlie ArchMop of Toronto.

We recommend to the Faithful of our Diocese " The History of the
Coliseum and its Martyrs," written by the Rev. A. J. O'Reilly, Miss. Ap.,
a Priest of our Diocese.

Nothing conduces more to the appreciation of our faith than the records of
its triumphs. We, who are in union with those martyrs, and inheritors of their
fa^th, should, at least in thanksgiving to God for its inestimable booh, labor to
extend these triumphs in our own humble way by our prayers and alms. We
recommend this work to be read in every family.

Besides its intrinsic merit and the fruit which it has and will produce, we
are further consoled to know the procteds of its sale are to be applied to the
propagation of the Faith.

4* JOHN JOSEPH, Archbishop of Toronto.

St. Michael's Palace, Toronto, April 27, 1874. •

THE MARTYRS OFJHE COLISEUM.

By Rev. A. J. O'Reilly, Miss. Ap.

Tenth Edition y Considerably Enlarged by the Author,

This work has been blessed by his Holiness Pius IX., by letter of 4th Mikich,
1874. It is the first and only authentic work on this subject ; it has been trans-
lated into several languages, has been read publicly in the religious houses at
Rome, apd is thus spoken of by both Protestant and Catholic Reviews :

" We do not believe we can r'icommend to our readers a more useful, instruc-
tive, and entertaining book. The narrative abounds with incidents so pictu-
resque, surprising, and delightful i& to equal the richest fancy of the novelist.
The learning and piety as well as the brilliant style of the author are con-
spicuous in evary page of this golden book. We cordially recommend it as com-
bining entertainment with insi;ruction and piety."— OV/V/A Cattolica.

" We may say without exaneration that in interest and value it surpasses
' Fabiola.' It is more strictly historical, deals with a larger number of persons,
imd is thb history, not of ore heroine, but of the Coliseum itself, and of those
who, at different times, suffered within its walls." — Tablet.

'^ The first really authentic Christian account of the scenes in the Coliseum.
The work is evidently the result of much careful study." — Catholic Opinion.

*^ The subject is a noble one, and treated with a masterly hand ; the language
and style are graceful and dignified, often picturesque, ana irresistibly carrying
us along by the magic inteA-est, not onlj: of the great matters of which the author
writes, but by the charm with which he invests tnem." — Belfast Northern Star.

" It is curious that of such a place the literature of England, so vast and so
embracing as it is, contains not a single authentic historjr ; and it is all the
stranger still since the materials for such a compilation lay in abundance for the
diligent searcher in the libraries and archives of Rome. We rejoice that such a
state of thin^ is ended now, and we rejoice still more that the truthful records
of theChristian glories of the Coliseum should be written by the hand of a son of
the 'Catholic Isle of the West.' ... Father O'Reilly has given us a col-
lectjlon of narratives as fascinating as they are truthful, and far more thrilling in
their intensely interestiiig incidents than the most sensational of the'trash that is
so widely, but still so surely, corrupting our modem life. . . . The volume
is creditable to his research.and is equally creditable to his scholarship ; and we
again express our delight tnat so beautiful and so novel a book should be the
work of a young Irish ma&vmaTj"— 'Freeman^ s Journal. '

" A well-executed work, and may well stand side by side with ' Fabiola.' " —
Literary Churchman.

" Few books are more likely to enchain the interr ,t of children than this. , It
is a beautiful record of the triumphs of Christianity."— Cft»rc/l Review.

" Dr. O'Reilly deserves the thanks of Catholics for this contribution toward
the history of the Coliseum, which is carefully compiled, well printed, and told '
in an interesting and attractive style." — Westminster Gazette.

"The Rev. Dr. O'Reilly's ' Martyrs of the Coliseum ' is one of those books,
which, when they appear, fill us with wonder why they were not written before.
The writer has done his task very well, taking the old Acts as his guides and
authorities. "—JftfwM .

" This gracefully-written series of biographies." — Weekly Register,
PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION.

THE CHILDREN MARTYRS.

Scenes from the Eiarly Church. Third Series. Py the author of " The Martyrs

of the Coliseum."

By the samb Author— Just Puolishzd.

THE DOUBLE TRIUMPH;

Or, the Roman General.

Dramatized from the story of " Placidus," in " The Martyrs of the Coliseum.'*

I vol. z6mo, paper. Price 40 cents.

•\

I ' I

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A. M. D. G.

THE VICTIMS

OVTHS

MAMERTINE.

Scenes from the Early Church,

SECOND SERIES.

REV. A. J. O'REILLY, D.D.,

Mimonary ApostoliCy author oftht " Martyrs tftht ColUtum,^

MONTREAL .

D. k J. SADLIER & 00.,

276 Notbe-Damk Strkkt.

1 1 I

1875.

\,All Right* RtstrvtJ.]

:^?^'>n- .V

Entered, according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year eighteen hun<
'^ dred and seventy-five, by

JAMES A. SADLIEB,

In the Office of the Minuter of Agriculture.

I ' 1 . , 1 ( I 1 ,1 , 1 .11

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.

Introduction—Antiquity of the Mamertine—
Ancient Structure— La Carita Romana—
Horrors of the Mamertine,

PAGB.

17-43

CHAPTER n.

Applus and Virginia— Pontius— The Last of
the Macedonian Kings— Jugurtha — Com-
panions of Catiline — Pleminius — Se-
janus— Minor Prisoners, . ... . 44-139

»3

6979

Contents.

CHAPTER III.

Why Tiberius did not Persecute— The Cha-
racter of Nero — The First Persecution —
Simon Magus— St. Peter and Simon-
Second Encounter,

140-198 ,

CHAPTER IV.

The Apostles Nine Months in Prison— Acts
. of Martinianus and Processus, . . . 199-^15

CHAPTER V.

The Miraculous Well, 216-230

CHAPTER VI.

The Appian Way— Domine, quo vadis?—
Ruins around the Domine quo, vadis —
The Martyrs of the Domine, quo vadis
—Origin of Minor Christian Rites— The
Catacombs, 231-291

CHAPTER VII.

Last Hours of St. Peter— Martyrdom of St.

Paul, ........ 292-310

Contents. 15

CHAPTER VIII. ^ '"

Authenticity of the Acts, I . . . . 311-319

CHAPTER IX.

Sixtus in the Catacombs — Martyrdom of

Sixtus 370-345

CHAPTER X.

St. Lawrence — Hippolytus — The Relics of
.Concordia— Legend of the Broken Chal-
ice — The Blind Emperor of Constan-
tinople,. . . ... . . 346-390

CHAPTER XI.

St. Maria in Trastevere — Conversion and

Martyrdom of Palmatius, , . . . 391-422

CHAPTER XIL
Nemesius, . . 423-437

CHAPTER XIII.
Tertullianus, . 438-447

CHAPTER XIV.

Abundius and Abundantiu.s— Their Relics, . 439-461

\ • - • •

• \
i6 Contends.

CHAPTER XV.

■-. s

The Companions of Pope Stephen and the

Church of St. Agatha, . . ... • 462-484

^ CHAPTER XVI. ;

St. Lucia, . , . ., . .... 485-513

CHAPTER XVn.

Baths of Diocletian — Cyrlacus — Trials of

Cyriacus— ^Martyrdom, . , • . . 513-560

' : ■ ■ ' ' i\ ■ ,

CHAPTER XVni.
Conclusion, . •. • • • • • 561-573

• I

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION.

IN treating of the Saints of the
Mamertine, we feel like one sent
to a graveyard long since aban-
doned, and told to give the history of those
buried in its sacred precincts.

A few monuments only have survived the
wreck of time, and tell the names of those
who were players on the stage of life in
generations gone by. •

" You ask me, Valerianus, worthy pontiff
of Christ," wrote Prudentius, " what inscrip-
tions are engraved on the numberless tombs
of the saints I have seen in the city of
Romulus, and what are the names of these
blessed martyrs. I find it difficult to answer.
Many tombs, indeed, bear written in small
letters either the name of the martyrs or

«7

ij;; i>i ' '

1 8 T/ie Victims of the Mamertine,

som^ epitaph, but the rest merely indicate
the number of martyrs they contain."*

Contemplating the number of martyrs that
suffered in Rome during the ten great per-
secutions of the Church, it would seem a
Herculean task to give the history of the
victims of the Mamertine. There is a
strange passage in the " Revelations of St.
Bridget " : ** Take a hundred square feet of
earth, sow it with corn, each gra'n a fingers
breadth apart and bearing a hundred- fold,
greater will b^ the number of martyrs from
the time St. Peter came to Rome to the
time Celestine abdicated."

The Catacombs alone tell of hundreds of
thousands. Yet of this immense number of
happy souls the Mamertine was honored
with only a few, and these the noblest names
on the records of the Church. There are
many martyrs mentioned in the Acts cast
into vile and dark prisons, but as the Tullian
or Mamertine is not mentioned we cannot
treat them as victims of the prison. This
prisoh w^^ destined for political captives; for
the hapless sons of the upper ten on whom
fortune frowned or whose ambition, like the

*Pruden., "De Coronis," ii.

Introduction,

demons of Simon Magus, ra^.sed them al<)ft
to let them fall with greater ignominy.

Therefore, on the Christian page of its
history we have persons of position and
fame. This reflection bears with it an ob-
vious consolation for the reader. Being re-
markable men, enjoying the first position in
the city, and feared for their wealth and in-
fluence, their lives were better known, and
consequently their acts are more genuine.
Thus the records of the martyrs of this pri-
son, with a few exceptions, are a collection
of the most authentic acts, not less so be-
cause teeming with sensation and wonder.
We need not build castles of fancy or climb
imaginary rainbows to gather feathers from
the fleecy clouds; far beyond the assump-
tions of thought are the simple and touching
scenes we quote from the sublime history of
the Church — the records of the Providence
of God over the cradle of Christianity.

The work is the fruit of a second visit to
the Eternal City, and a further examination
of the notes that gave birth to " The Martyrs
of the Coliseum." Leaving the cares of mis-
sionary life to more able hands, it was our
labor of love to take down again the mouldy

I I

30 The Victims of the Mamertine.

tomes from dusky shelves, and bring to light
the beautiful and interesting records pre- v
served with such scrupulous care in the ven-
erable archives of the Benedictine Library
at Monte Cassino, as well as the Augustinian
and Dominican Libraries in Rome.

The reader will find in almost every chap-
ter a link between the past and the present,
maintairfed either through the devotion that
still exists towards those early heroes of
Christianity, in the notices of those churches
where, their r/elics are still enshrined or hon-
ored, or in the similarity of events that prove
the same Providence guiding the Church.

In treating of the Saints of the Mamer-
tine, we are of necessity obliged to include
names already well known; but we hope in
the way of detail to furnish much that is new,
and to treat the same in a manner at once
original and interesting.

It is neither our intention to enter into
any critical p.nalysis of dates, nor to refute
various and strange conjectures advanced by
incredulous or malicious writers, who builcj
their opinions on false data and impugn
facts received by history and traditic*^ Such
is the d-nial that St. Peter was ever in Rome.

Introduction,

When men, bearing all the appearance 6f
education and sanity, can question such a
fact, . what wonder they should cast doubts
on the history of his imprisonment, the place
of his martyrdom and interment?

Bending with reverential awe over much
that is marvellous and interesting in the his-
tory of the past, our work is neither polemic
nor controversial. We seek to instruct
through the channel of facts, to edify by the
sublime lessons taught in the infant school
of our faith, culling flowers from 'the road-
side of history to present to the reader a
bouquet of lasting fragrance by means of the
virtuous and pious sentiments they suggest.

As the bee gathers honey from every
flower that decks the plain, we have collected
facts from the treasures of ancient literature,
both sacred and profane. Translations, quo-
tations, and traditions are linked together to
make the chain. We have occasionally given
the ipsissima uerba of others, with only a
reference to the original source in the foot-
notes, and thus we may frequently lay our-
selves open to the charge of plagiarism so
commonly preferred against authors. How-
ever, we have dipped into sources not ^"tw-

22 The Victims of the Mamertine,

erally known, and hence flatter ourselves we
have gathered a few chapters of useful, in-
structive reading, especially for youth.

Like one who brushes cobwebs from the
old paintings in our ancestral halls, bringing
to better view the grand historic shades of
the past, we present this work, as the
" Martyrs of the Coliseum," to the indulgent
criticism of pious Christians, who will find
even in its rude dress much to encourage
and cheer in the sorrows and troubles of
human vicissirudes. It is to be regretted
that many modern historians, pandering to
a popular prejudice, placfe in the foreground
of their pictures the heroes of paganism, who
were at best tyrants and murderers of the .
human race, whose fame is often but the
record to posterity of the triumph of in-
justice, whilst the champions of religion and
justice — -the great before God — whose praises
shall be written on the imperishable monu-
ments of the eternal city of Jerusalem, are
ignored and despised. 'Tis to vindicate the
saints of Christianity, to recall, from records
that are dead to modern languages, the
names and glories of heroes who fought the
battles of the g^reat Jehov^ah and marked

Introduction,

with their blood the path we should follpWr
we give to the reader the thrilling records
of sufferings, of virtues, of triumphs, that are
echoed in the tide — " The Victims of the
Mamertine."

II.

' On cloudy days the mountains, rising over
the distant horizon, are not easily distin-
guished from the mists that crown their sum-
mits; but as we approach nearer, the blue
cliffs stand out in bold reality above the
clouds. Thus, when we look far back through
the haze of history, the shadows of legend
are easily mingled with the realities of record;
but on closer investigation the grand old
monuments of the past stand forth in historic
grandeur, cheering the mental vision with
their hallowed memories and their vener-
able antiquity.

The Mamertine brings us far away into the
mists of the past. Retracing our steps along
the stream of time, we must pass the ten cen-
turies of the temporal power of the Popes, the
golden age of Caesarism, and the warlike Tri-
bunes of early Ronie. After a journey of nearly

24 The Victims of the Mamertine,

three thousand years we find ourselves amidst
the rivulets that converge into the majestic
current which first claimed importance in the
vicissitudes of time. It is coeval with the
days that heard the lamentations of Jeremias
poured forth in the solitudes of Judea; when
Nineveh and Babylon were the flourishing
but ungrateful cities that blasphemed the
name of the true God; when Solon was giv-
ing his laws at Athens, and Thales, following
the course of the stars, startled the then
known world with the first prophecy of the
eclipse. Nations whose political influence is
now felt at their antipodes, whose flags have
braved a thousand years the battle and the
breeze, were not then marked upon the map
of the world. France and Germany were
only known as barbarous tribes on the con-
fines of civilization, and the cattle fed on the
luxuriant meadows that covered the sites of
London, Paris, and Berlin.

Commenced by a shepherd king six hun-
dred and forty years before the Christian era,
the Mamertine Pri3on is still intact, after the
wreck and ruin of nearly three thousand
years. The Cloacae have drained the city
of Rome for twenty-four centuries; the

Introduction,

g;igantic aqueducts that stride the Cam-^
pagna in imperishable majesty claim a
venerable antiquity; but the Mamertine
served for the imprisonment of the refrac-
tory slaves employed in their construction.
Seven hundred years older than the Pan-
theon, the Coliseum, or the palace of the
Caesars, the Mamertine is the most ancient
and interesting relic of ancient Rome.

With a deep thrill of sympathy we visit
the dungeons of the political inquisition at
Venice, the prison of Tasso in the gloomy
keeps of the castle of Ferrara, and the cell
of the beautiful but ill-fated Cenci in the
tomb of Adrian ; with inward indignation we
have read of many a dark scene of cruelty
and injustice in the feudal castles of the mid-
dle ages; of the prisons of usurped and
tyrannical powers ; of the Bastile, and the
Tower of London; but their terrors pale
into comforts compared with the thrilling
records of the Mamertine.

Although many a guilty wretch has here
found a merited finale to a career of crime,
}ret its rugged walls received the last sigh
of the noblest and bravest of the children of
men. Heroes, who fought with unflinching

26 The Victims of the Afameriine.

bravery for their liberty and their country,
were dragged here in chains and cast into,
this gloomy abode of infamy, to starve or be
strangled by the public executioner. Here
were immured tender virgins of princely
rank, who were not guilty of any political in-
trigues, and whose love for faith and chas-
tity made them the victims of tyranny and
lust. Here were flung venerable pontififs,
whose crimes were their miracles, and mar-
. tyrs, whose guilt was their intrepid profession
of Christianijty. Loathsome and revolting,
yet there is no prison on earth that has wit-
nessed more patient suffering, niore interior
joy. Angelic spirits have passed days and
nights in attendance on the champions of
Christ, dispelling the darkness with miracu-
lous light, spreading delicious odors in the
noisome atmosphere, and cheering the lonely
hours with joyous strains of celestial music*
" How blest you consider yourselves when
cast into the dungeons of the Costodiorum,"
says Tertullian, addressing the martyrs
thrown into those dismal prisons. " They are
dark, but you are light in yourselves; they

*In the following pages wc shall give record of several
miracles of this kind.

Introduction,

have chains, but you are free in God ; they
have all the horrors of a miserable death,
but you are bathed in the odors of celestial
life."*

Therefore, besides its antiquity, the Mam-
ertine must attract the pilgrim to the Eternal
City, with other and more hallowed reminis-
cences. The spots where the martyrs suf-
fered are shrines of Christian devotion. In

sympathy, in admiration, the fervent spirit
floats in fancy over places that witnessed
scenes of cruelty or triumph ; shuddei^ing at
the blood-stained hand, the axe of the execu-
tioner, and the bleeding wounds of the suf-
ferer, but kissing the smile of triumph and
the crown the angels weave on the martyr's
brow.

IIL

If the pilgrim to the Eternal City stand
on the steps of the Church of St. Martina in
the Forum, he will look in vain amidst the
ruins of the past for some indication of this
ancient and celebrated prison. Yet in that
very position stood what in modern phrase-

* " Orat. ad Mart.," ch. ii.

U I

28 The Victims of the Mamertine»

ology would be called the court- rooms of
the prison ; there, too, could be heard the
piercing cries of the condemned issuing in
subdued tones from the dungeons beneath.
The place is so changed and tradition so in-
distinct it is difficult to replace the original
structure. We must sweep away in imagi-
nation the beautiful churches that Christian
piety has erected over the ancient sanctu-
aries, the miserable houses that now mark
the site of the ancient citadel, and ten or
twelve feet 'of soil which has accumulated
with the debris of the fallen city. We may
still find the massive wall of the fagade which
ran sixty feet towards the Salita di Mar-
forio. On this wall, with the rock of the
Capitol behind, we build to the height of
forty or fifty feet a double square block — a
larger one raised on a smaller one — heavy
and massive in its architecture, and un-
adorned, amidst brilliant temples and pal-
aces, portrayed in its gloomy simplicity the
odious purposes for which it was destined.
All these superstructures have passed away ;
although they existed in the golden age of
the Caesars, they were swept down in the
devastation that levelled the majestic build-

Introduction,

ings adorning the Forum and the slopes of
the Capitol. The prisons underneath were
left intact, and supported on their rock-built
walls the fallen masses of the upper edifice.
Modern piety has removed 'every vestige of
those ruins, and built a beautiful church over
the dungeons, sanctified by the presence and
miracles of a vast number of martyrs.

The construction of those prisons proves
their antiquity, for they bear the massive
character of the Etruscan era. There are
two chambers excavated out of solid blocks
of Peperino. When in use, they were en-
tered by apertures in the centre of the ceil-
ing ; now a commodious flight of stairs, con-
structed in the last century, leads to both
chambers. The upper apartment, which is
considered the most ancient, constructed by
Ancus Martius in 640 before the Christian
era, is sixteen feet high, twenty-two in breadth,*
and thirty in length. The lower prison, sup-
posed to be the Tullian extension, is one of
the most horrible dungeons that can be im-
agined. Through an aperture in the floor
of the upper chamber the victim waa cast
into a low, dark, and rugged cell hewn out
of the heart of the rock. The roof displays

30 The Victims of the Mamertine,

immense architectural skill. Large masses
of volcanic tufa are arranged in courses con-
verging towards the centre, not on the prin-
ciple of an arch, but extending horizontally
to a point*

The absence of air and light and the
effluvia of accumulated filth rendered this
a horrid dungeon.

Although an inscription under the cornice
of the entrance to the upper chamber, run-
ning thus

C . VIBIUS . 'C . F . RUFINUS . M . COCCEIVS .
NERVA . COS . EX . S . C .

proves that it has been restored in the 2 2d
year of the reign of Tiberius, and probably
enlarged, still we have in its integrity the
dismal prison so often referred to in the
writings of Livy, Varro, Sallust, and Flaccus.
The description of the upper portion of
the prison is lost to history. Yet it is cer-
tain there were other apartments besides the
keeps. In the "Acts of St. Martina," who is
supposed to have been confined in the Ma-
mertine, we read there were many apart-

* No mortar was used, but iron clamps were ingeniously
worivfl into the joinings ; they pre not now visible. A simi-
lar kind of roof is seen in the tombs of the Tarquinii and
Caste.

Introduction,

ments or chambers in her prison. In the
*'Acts of Pope Stephen" (acts of the highest
authority), we find that the judge who con-
demned Tertullinus had his tribunal erected
in the Mamertine. It would be absurd to
imagine that the prefect would hold his court
in one of those dungeons that have come
down to us. The same is also proved by
the "Acts of St. Alexander."

The front of the prison was not turned to-
wards the Forum directly, but leaning a little
towards the street formerly called Vico Ma-
viertino, now Salita di Marforio. The
position of the Gemonia stairs, which were
on one side, gives sufficient indication that
the entrance to the prison was not on the
level of the street, but from the rear by a
bridge.* The fortifications of the Capitol
were just behind, and of course the prison
was separated. That the Scale Ge^nonie
thus led to the prison is the opinion of all

* We are aware that some have placed the Scale Gemonie
on the Aventine and leading to the Tiber ; Vjut how can such
arrangement stand with statements like the following from
Valerius Maximus, writing of Crepione: '* Corpusque ejus
fiMicsticornificis manibus laceratum in Scalis Gemoniis jacens,
magno cum horrore Fori Romani coiupcclttm est." We might
give several other similar quotations, but enough for o-jr pur-
pose. '(SeeCancellieri, page 33.)

32 T/ie Vicli7ns of the Mamertine,

modern antiquaries. On these stairs the
bodies of those killed inside were cast naked v
and left exposed for some time to strike
terror into the people ; they were then
dragged to the Tiber. Pliny relates, in his
eighth book and Chapter 40, of a faithful dog
which remained day and night by the body
of his master, refusing food and howling
piteously until death relieved him like his
master from the sorrows of life — felt even by
a dog!

A great deal of doubt exists concerning
the object or meaning of the small door that
i^ found in the lower prison, leading to a
long subterranean gallery, similar to some
of the passages in the Catacombs. Some
will have that it is as ancient as the prison
itself, and was a secret passage in conjunc-
tion with the Claudian prison,'''* after the fash-
ion of the Latomia of Syracuse, which has
a similar subterranean catacomb annexed.
This looks probable, as we know the Mamer-
tine is but a reproduction of those famous
prisons. Others will have that it is coeval
with the changes made in the time of Tibe-
rius, under the Consuls Vibius and Rufinus,

* St. Nicholas in Carccre.

Introduction.

and was intended to lead off to the Cloaca the
filth, water, etc., which must of necessity have
accumulated in the prison. The passage in
the " Acts of Chrysanthus and Daria" would
seem to suppose this : " Quia Cloacarum cu-
niculis digesta domorum stercora illic jugiter
decurrebant et in hoc decursorio ut diximus
erat ima et lutea et ita tenebrosa custodia ut
penitus lucifluus aer, nee signum illi diei nee
vestigium aliquod lucis ostenderet."* Yet
there is no allusion made to this aqueduct
by ancient writers, and modern antiquaries
skilfully avoid it. On examination we find
this subterranean passage leads over a hun-
dred yards in the direction of the Forum.
It has several avenues branching from it,
but all closed by walls that are decidedly
of ancient structure. It is low, damp, and
rough. In the time of Panciroli, the lower
prison was filled with dirt and water. He
writes thus: **Se piii vi sia questa e quella
Dio lo sa, perche i ritorni ed uscite delle fon-
tane tirate in Campidoglio hanno di mo-
do riempito questa parte, che piu non vi si
puo calare." This may have arisen from
the accumulation of filth and dirt, We are

*Surius, 25th Oct. ■ /fi"^- ^'^^

34 The Victims of the Mamcrtine.

inained to believe the passage was an aque-
duct intended for the sole use of the prison.
The other passages leading from it may have
been opened at the time it was made, for the
sake of the sand so necessary in all ancient
buildings. •

Up to the time of the Decemvirs there
was. but one prison in Rome. Juvenal con-
gratulates the ancestral city on this happy
sign of prosperit)'^ and order:

" Felices proavorum atavos felicia dicas
Sajcula qui quondam sub regibus atque tribunis
Viderunt unocontentam carcere Romam."*

This was the Tullian Prison. About 300
years after the building of Rome, the in-
creased population, and with it the increased
violation of the laws, called for more prison
room. To restrain the ever-increasing au-
dacity of a lawless people,* Appius Claudius,
who was afterwards himself a victim of the
Tullian, built the famous prisons whose ruins
are now shown under the Church of St.
Nicholas in Carcere. They were famous,
for, like the Tullian shrouded with horrors,
here the victims of the circus passed the pain-

* Sat. iii.

f "Ad tcrrorem crescentis audaciae." — Livy,. dec. i. lib. i.

Introduction.

fill vigils of their immolation ^o make a Ro-
man holiday; here many a noble and in-
jured object of patrician oppression passed
its gloomy threshold to bid farewell for years
to home and daylight, and, too often, to life
itself. In its history there is record of one
scene full of romance. An aged father is
condemned to die of starvation. His daugh-
ter, a young mother, is permitted to visit him
daily. Days passed, and still the old man
lived, full of vigor and vital energy. The
guards carefully searched the daughter, but
she had no food concealed. The continued
existence and even good health of their aged
victim increased their astonishment. At
length they watched, and, lo ! the young
mother is seen suckling her aged father with
her infant's milk. The strange circumstance
was bruited through the city, popular sym-
pathy demanded the aged man's liberty,
and a temple was raised over the prison to
the goddess of filial piety. The dark and
gloomy dungeons were closed for other vic-
tims : the prison became dear to the Roman
people, who, in the midst of their moral de-
gradation, could still love the beauty of virtue.
Byron's beautiful lines on this touching in-

36 The Victims of the Mamertine.

stance of filial . affection raise our thoughts
from the gloomy horrors of the dungeons
that form the theme of our study, to contem-
plate the sublimity of virtue in the filial piety
of the woman's heart, so justly styled.

LA CARITA ROMANA.

" There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light
What do I gaze on ? Nothing. Look again !
Two forms are slowly shadowed on my sight —
Two insulated phantoms of the brain :
It is not so ; I see them full and plain —
An old man^ and a female young and fair,
Fresh as a nursing mother, in whcse vein
The blood is nectar— but what does she there.

With her unraantled neck, and bosom tvhite and
bare ?

" But here youth offers to old age the food,
The milk of his own gift — it is her sire
To whom she renders back the debt of blood
Born with her birth. No; he shall not expire
While in those warm and lovely veins the fire
Of health and holy feeling can provide
Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream rises

higher
Than Egypt's river — from that gentle side

Drink, drink and live, old man ! Heaven's realm
holds no such tide.

*'The starry fable of the Milky Way
Has not thy story's purity ; it is
A constellation of a sweeter ray,
And sacred Nature triumphs more in this

Introduction,

Reverse of her decree than in the abyss .-

Where sparkle distant worlds : O holiest nurse !
No drop of that clear stream its way shall miss
To thy sire's heart, replenishing its source
With life, as our freed souls rejoin the universe.*

The prison where this scene took place is
supposed by Baronius to be the Tullian
itself. However, the weight of authority is
against the learned Cardinal ; the descrip-
tions left us of the Mamertine by Livy,
Varro, and Sallust leave no doubt of its posi-
tion at the foot of the Capitol, looking down
on the Forum, twenty feet below the surface,
and horrible in its whole appearance.*

Doubtless its present title of Mamertine,
which, too, it has borne before the days of
Christianity, may have supplied a reason for
doubting its synonymous character with the
ancient Tullian.f It is impossible to say with
certainty whence this name came. Mamer-

* "Imminens Foro."— Z/r^y. «* Media urbe."—/<5. " Cir-
citer viginti pedes humi depressus." — Sallust. "Quae sub
terra Tullianum," etc. — Varro.

f Amongst the names given to this prison by ancient writers
we find it frequently called Robur from its great strength, as
also from the custom of confining prisoners in cells of wood,
■"in arcis robusteis," as we find in Festus. Latomia is an-
other title given the Mamertine, from their similarity to the
Latomia; of Syracuse, dungeons hewn out of the solid rock
by the tyrant Dionysius. The spot now occupied by this

i is!

38 The Victims of the Mamertine,

tine is a name familiar in ancient history.
There were several Prefects of the city
bore this name ; there was a lake, a school,
a street, and a saint called thus ; consequently,
the most common opinion is, this prison re-
ceived its present name from one of the
Mamertines, who enlarged or restored it dur--
ing the Republic. Martinelli, whose opinion
is adopted by some, gives a very ingenious
and probable interpretation of this title and
its origin. Near is the Forum of Mars.
This god was'also called Mamers, as Festu's
writes : " Mamercus preenomen est Oscum
a Marte dictum, ab eo quod Osci Martem
Mamertem vocitent qui a Romanis detrac-
tione unius syllabae .Mars appellatur." And
Varro even more clearly gives the same
idea: "Mamers idem quod Mars significat
et Mamertinus idem quod Martius." If,
then, the word Mamertinus has the same
signification as Martius, may we not justly

prison was in al) probability a stone quarry, and adapted to
its present form by Ancus Martius — deepened into another
dungeon by TuUian, whence the name. Varro writes : " In hoc
pars quae sub terra TtiUiannm ideo quod additum aTullio rcge."
Historical critics cannot determine why it is so frequently
called Custodia/«3//<:a ana Custodia privata. We find it
often mentioned by these names in the '* Acts of the Martyrs."

Introduction,

conclude the prison takes its name from its
original founder, Ancus Martius especially
as the origin of the name is lost far away in
the remotest antiquity ?

Whatever doubt may be thrown on the
identity of this prison with the Tulliati, no
one has ever doubted but this is the Mamer-
tine so frequently mentioned in the " Acts of
the Martyrs"; that here the Apostles Peter
and Paul were confined, and many other
holy martyrs of the Church.

The places where the martyrs suffered are
shrines of Christian devotion. The fervent
soul loves to kneel on the spot sanctified
with the blood of the sufferings of our fore-
fathers in faith. In fancy the spirit floats
over the scene of horror ; it sees the exe-
cutioners, the bleeding wounds, the smile of
triumph, and the crown angels weave. It is
not necessary to explain to the children of
faith why the Church flings so much venera-
tion around the places once sanctified by
martyrs' suffering and triumph. The spots
hallowed with the memories of awful suffer-
ing are many about Rome ; perhaps none
of a deeper hue than the Mamertine.

Here many a brave martyr passed the

I i i

40 T/te Vicii7ns of the Mamertine,

vigil of his awful death. The anticipation
of pain is sometimes greater than its realizar
tion; so the victims cast into this gloomy-
prison suffered in thought the direst agonies
of martyrdom. They were supported, it is
true, by the divine grace, but the sensibilities
of humanity were not suppressed, and the
martyrs suffered, with some miraculous ex-
ceptions, in reality as well as in appearance.
Before the tribunal of the judge, amidst the
shouts of the Coliseum, there was a certain
feeling of enthusiasm that lent courage and
determination to the Christian sufferer; but
in the long and dreary hours of the dark-
ened prison the mind floated over scenes of
horror, of bloodshed and agony, that at each
moment sent a thrill through the teTified
feelings. Here they had time to think over
the broken ties of home and friendship,
voluntarily sacrificed for God, but still keenly
felt in the affectionate heart. The fear of
not persevering in their trial, the remorse,
perhaps, for some past delinquencies and
anxiety for dear ones to be abandoned to the
storms of a cruel world, must all have meshed
with their quota of anguish for the confessors
in their prison.

Introduction.

The material privations and the awful
character of the dungeon contributed not a
little to the sufferings of its victims. Per-
petual darkness and fetid air, the floor rough
hewn in the rock, the martyr naked, and the
cell horribly damp and cold, heavy chains to
the hands and feet, and in hunger and thirst,
these sufferings mingle with the happy me-
mories of many a bright and shining soul
amongst the martyred band of heaven, who
on earth were condemned to the Mamertine.

We can get a glimpse of what it was in
the days of its terrors from the writings of
the ancients. Sallust, in his history of the
conspiracy of Catiline, whose associates were
strangled in this dungeon, thus writes:
** There is a place in the prison which is
called the Tullian, where you descend a little
to the left about twenty feet below the sur-
face of the earth. Immense walls fortify it
on every side, and overhead it is closed by
a vaulted roof of stone, but, with the awful
darkness and fetid sme.l, the whole appear-
ance of the place is terrible."*

*" Est locus in carcerequod TuUianum appellatur, iibi pau-
lum descenderis ad Irevam circiter vi-rimi peJts hunii depres-
sus. Eum muniunt undique parietes atque insuper camera

42 T/te Victims of the Mamertine,

•

Calpurnius Flaccus, in his beautiful but ill-
expressed ideas, thus speaks of the TuUian:
" I see the pubHc prison constructed with im-
mense boulders, with narrow, oblong aper-
tures in the rock, not receiving a shadow of
light. Here the condemned behold the Ro-
bur Tullianum, and, when they hear the grat-
ing of the iron trap-door, they faint with fear
[exanimant'ir], and, obliged to look on the
sad end of others, they learn what awaits
themselves. The strokes of the scourge are
heard from 'below, and the unwilling vic-
tims are rudely pushed by the soiled hands
of the executioner. . The jailer sits there
with an inexorable feeling; his eyes are dry
when the mother weeps; there dirt irri-
tates the body, and chains press the tender
hands."* .

We read in Livy the sentence pronounced
by Scipio Asiatico on the younger Gracchus,
when, at the head of a mob on the Aventine,
if taken, he was to be cast like a thief and
a r^ibber into the stronghold, " that he might

lapideis fornicibus juncta, sed inculta tcnebris et odore foeda
atqiie tcnibilis ejus facies est."

* In Declamat. et ad calcein Quintiliani. " Sonant verbera
inttis " • Flaccus alludes to the custom of scourging criminals
before putting tliem to death.

Introdtidion,

die in darkness, and then be cast, naked, be-
fore the prison."*

The titles given this prison by ancient his-
torians conjure up horror. V/hat an epitome
of human woe rings through expressions
like these: "Cell of groans!" "Abode of
sorrow ! " '* Pluto's Hospital amongst the
living!" "A place darkened by perpetual
night!" "A horrible and gloomy dungeon of
fatal punishment," and many others which
we would find impossible to convey in Eng-
lish.f In the "Acts of SS. Chrysanthus
and Daria," as given in Surius on the 25th
October: "He (C!irysanthus) is, therefore,
cast into the Tullian, a prison most deep,
frightful, and sordid ; for there was there a
lower prison, whence rose a horrible efflu-
via, for the filth of the houses was carried
through it to the common sewer, .
so dark that no ray of light ever penetrated
to give the least sign of day."J

*"Tenebris expiiet et deinde nudus ante carcerem pro-
jiciatur." — Livy, lib. 38.

f " Cclla gcmitiim ; Tristitiae domus ; Apud superos Pluto-
nis hospiiium ; Locus perpetua node caecatus ; Career iiler,
horribilis et funesiae pcenalis loci ; Antrum carocreum ; SpcKrus
densaj caiiginis ; Donuis feralis," etc., etc. — Caiicellicri, " Noti«
zle del Carcert. TuUiano," pa}>e 6.

j:" Conjectu^ est i,t>itur in Carcerem Tullianum profundissi*
mum, teterrimuni aique Icedissitiium," etc.

CHAPTER II.

PAGANS CONFINED IN TIlC MAMKRTINE.

"Along the sacred way,
Hither the triumph c..me, atu), wintling round,
With ncclaniatioii and the martial clg^ng
Of instruments, and cars laden with spoil,
Stopped afiithe sacred stair that then appeared,
Then thro* the darkness broke ;'Miple starlij^du
As though it led to Isoaven. 'Twas night, but now
A thousand torches turniuR night to day
Bla/.ed, and the victor, springing from his seat,
V/ent up, and, kneeling as in fervent prayer.
Entered the Capitol. Hut what are they
W'Mt .1 the foot withdraw, a mournful train.
In fetters? The Tullian's victims — the fallen,
Tht)se who were spared to grace the chariot-wheels.
And there they parted where the road divides —
The victor !»nd the vanipushed there withdraw —
He to the festal board, and they to die."

Anonymous.

Hl^ justice of God, that one da
overtakes the impiety of the un-
believer as well as the Christian,
has made use of the dungeons 6t the Mamer-

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 45

tine to vindicate the outrages ofifered to the
moral !aws stamped on the human heart.
Such an abode was well suited to receive the
last blasphemies of wretches like Appius, Ju-
gurtha, Sejanus. There is a thrilling les-
son to be drawn from this page of Roman
history. The unchecked passion is more
destructive than a raging fire : it is like an
impetuous torrent that carries man in spite
of himself to an ocean of ruin. Many a
victim of blind ambition found his brilliant
dream of wealth and power end in the hor-
rible contrast of the Mamertine dungeon.
Conquered kings, fallen favorites, and thwart-
ed conspirators have here read the terrible
lesson of the instability of human hope. We
will glance at a few of the most remarkable
names mentioned in Roman hi&tory, omitting
those that we are not certain of, and briefly
recording the events that led to their con-
demnation.

We believe the first on the list is Appius
Claudius, the same who built the prisons now
under the Church of St. Nicholas. Although
he is supposed by some writers to have
perished in his own prison, we will in this
adopt the opinion of Baronius, and place the

4^ The l^ictims of the Mamerttne,

scene of his suicide in the Mamertine. The
prisons he built were intended for the ple-
beian class. In the confusion and uncer-
tainty of dates we could prove his prisons
were only commenced at the time of his
death ; and lastly, as no ancient writer has
distinctly stated he died in his own prison,
we may safely cast this great tragedy of
early history amongst the reminiscences of
the Mamertine.

Appius was one of the ten tyrants who,
about 300 before the Christian era, cast
the gloomy shadow of his vices over the
simple but warlike people of the city. After
the murder of Dentatus, the greatest soldier
of the army, he was guilty of a disgraceful
domestic tragedy that has branded his name
with disgust to every child that has read the
history of those days.

One day, whilst sitting at his tribunal to
dispense justice, he saw a maiden of ex-
quisite beauty, aged about fifteen, passing
to one of the public-schools, attended by*
a matron, her nurse. The charms of this
damsel, heightened by all the innocence of
virgin modesty, caught his attention anc
fired his heart. The day following she

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 47

passed ; he found her still more beautiful and
his heart still more inflamed. Accustomed
to yield to those inferior passions that vilify
the rational being, he determined to pos-
sess himself of this innocent child, whose
honor and virtue were to be sacrificed to his
lust. Passion cares naught for right, for
liberty or honor. The sighs of outraged
innocence and the sacred claims of a father
are feeble barriers to oppose this passion.
The tyrant vainly tried to corrupt the fidelity
of the nurse, and then had recourse to stra-
tagem and deceit still more dishonorable.
He selected from the companions of his'
debauchery a man named Marcus Claudius,
whom he bribed to assert the beautiful girl
was his slave, and to refer the cause to his
tribunal for decision. Claudius behaved ex-
acdy according to his instructions. Enter-
ing the school where Virginia was playing
with her companions, he seized upon her
as his property, and was about to take her
away by force, but was prevented by the
people who were drawn together by her
cries. After the first impulse of opposition,
this lying instrument of tyrannical oppres-
sion explained to the people how the girl

48 The Victitns of the Mameriine,

was born from one of his slaves, and there-
fore his property, but he was wilHng to plead '
his cause before the tribunal of Appius, who
was then administering justice (save the
word !) in the Forum close by. They con-
sented, and the weeping girl was led to the
tribunal of Appius, who saw them approach
from a distance, and was delighted that his
impious plot had so far succeeded. In the
meantime the crowd had increased ; a mur-
mur of pity passed along; indignation was
swelling the heart of some brave youths, who
were determined to see the end of this un-
blushing infraction of the rights of the citi-
zens. They knew the child to be the off^
spring of the brave centurion Virginius, who
was then on the battle-field defending his
country, and that she was betrothed to a
noble youth named Icillius, for whom they
despatched a messenger in haste.

Arrived before Appius, Claudius pleaded
his case. She was born of his slave, sold to
the wife of Virginius, who was barren, and
brought up as his child ; that he had several
witnesses, but that until he could gather
them together it was but reasonable the
slave should bo delivered into his custody.

Pagans confined in the Matnertine, 49

being her master. In deep cunning the im-
pious judge pretended to be struck with the
justice of his claims. He observed, if the
reputed father himself were present, he might
indeed be willing to delay the delivery of the
maiden for some time, but in his absence he
could not detain her from her proper master.
He therefore adjudged her to Claudius as his
slave until Virginus could prove his pater-
nity ; but Heaven will not permit such im-
piety to triumph — the sigh of injured inno-
cence has ever been heard at the throne of
God and found vindication. The tyrant had
scarcely finished his sentence when a bustle
is heard at the door; the crowd make way;
a well-known voice falls on the ears of the
fainting Virginia, another moment, and she is
clasped in the arms of Icillius. The lictors
were ordered to separate the youthful pair
and seize Icillius; they approached, but draw-
ing his sword, for he, too, was a centurion,
and with a voice that struck terror into the
menials of the tyrant, he bade them stand
back. " Appius,"he cried, his eyes glistening
with fury and his forehead wrinkled with a
frown of defiance, "you must first pass
over my corpse to seize Virginia. She

50 The Victims of the Mamertine,

is espoused to me, and I will have her
in her unsullied innocence. Whilst I live she
will not leave the house of her father. If
you have succeeded in usurping the rights
of the tribunes and trampling on the liber-
ties of the people, the curse of your lust
shall not penetrate the sacred enclosure of
our families to the insult of our wives and
daughters. We will invoke the vengeance
of the people and the army. Without passing
a stream of blood, you will not execute the
iniquitous sentence you have given." Appius
trembled on his throne ; he heard the ap-
plause of the people ; he saw the determina-
tion that fired every countenance; and, feign-
ing his discomfiture, he calmly replied : " It
is evident Icillius still breathes the sedition
of the tribunes, and, under pretence of de-
fending this slave, he wishes to excite the
passions of the people. Not to supply cause
for his seditious projects, I will not give
any sentence to-day, but security must be
given that the slave will be brought before
me to-morrow."

The security was given, and the murmur-
ing crowd parted, congratulating the weep-
ing youths, and breathing vengeance on the

lurmur-

Pagaits confined in the Mamertine, 5 ^

Decemvirate, whose days of tyranny would
find a last and terrible sunset on the mor-
row.

In the meantime, couriers were sent with
the fleetest horses to the camp to bring Vir-
ginius to Rome. The tyrant Appiits had
also sent despatches that Virginius should
be detained, but his letters were inter-
cepted ; the brave centurion was already in
full gallop towards his sorrowful home, and
was soon in the embraces of his blooming
child.

The next day — one of the most eventful
in the history of Rome — Virginius, to the
astonishment of Appius, appeared before the
tribunal, leading his daughter by the hand,
and both clothed in deep mourning. Clau-
dius, the accuser, was also there, and began
by making his demand. Virginius spoke in
turn ; hu represented that his wife had sev-
eral children ; that she had suckled her chil-
dren, as many could testify; moreover, if
he had intentions of adopting a supposititious
child, he would have selected a- boy rather
than a girl. It was surprising such a claim
should be raised after fifteen years. The
people gave from time to time unmistak-

52 The Vic this of the Mamertine,

able indications of their sympathy. The
earnestness of the afflicted father had the
eloquence of truth ; and Appius, seeing the
impression growing stronger, interrupted
Virginus, and, in one of the most daring
acts of injustice on record, once more ad-
judged the girl to Claudius.

A cry that would melt the heart of the
greatest libertine burst from the poor girl ;
she threw herself on the neck of her father.
Icillius was near. His hand was on his
sword ; he remembered his oath of the pre-
vious day, and the people, who knew the
Forum was full of soldiers, trembled in sus-
pense. At length Appius gave the lictors
orders to clear the way and give the slave
to her master; but, before Icillius could give
vent to the passion that was burning in his
heart like the interior of a volcano, Virgi-
nius, in a faltering voice, pretended to ac-
quiesce to the sentence, and asked permis-
sion to take his farewell from one he had
long considered his child and loved as such.
Appius acceded on condition the interview
should take place at once and in his pre-
sence. The hardy veteran, with a commo-
tion that showed the poignant anguish

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 53

breaking- his heart, took his almost expiring
daughter in his arms, supporting her head
on his breast, and wiping away the tears
that rolled over her beautiful countenance.
Unmindful of the crowd who wept around
him, he gently made his way to one of the
shops that surround the Forum. Suddenly
seizing a large knife that lay on a block
before a butcher's stall, he cried out, " Vir-
ginia, by this alone can I save thy honor
and thy liberty ! " and plunged the steel into
her maiden heart. Drawing forth the blade
reeking with her blood, he turned towards
Appius, crying out with a loud voice, " Ty-
rant! by this blood of innocence I devote
thy head to the infernal Furies ! "

With knife in hand, foaming with fury, he
ran through the city, wildly calling on the
people to strike for freedom ; thence he
went to the camp, v/here, weeping and
showing the knife stained with the guiltless
blood of his murdered child, he roused the
soldiers to fury and desire of revenge. The
soldiers left the camp, abandoned their gen-
erals, and came to Rome to be avenged of
their tyrants. Thf^y took possession of the
Aventine. The people in the city, in the

54 The Victims of the Mamertine,

meantime, led on by Icillius, were preparing a
dreadful attack on the few wretches that still
guarded the tyrant Appius. For several
days he lay secreted. "At length the sol-
diers, gaining from the Senate the change
of government, banished all the Decemvirs
except Appius and Opius, whom they cast
into the dungeons of the Mamertine until
they would determine the death they would
give them. But they both strangled them-
selves in their prison before they could be
torn to pieces by the fury of the mob.

Cicero must have had this fact before him
when he wrote : " The uncontrolled desire
is a burning fire ; it not only destroys par-
ticular persons, but entire families, and ruins
the whole commonwealth. From desires
spring hatred, dissension, discord, seditions,
and bloody wars."*

II.

The Samnites were once the bravest and
most formidable enemies of the common-
wealth of Rome. They several times de-
feated the Roman armies, but always treated

* Cicero de Finibus.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 55

their victims with mercy. On one occasion
their brave General Pontius surrounded the
whole army in the defiles of the mountains
near Capua. Without shedding a drop of
blood, having obliged them only to pass
under the yoke and pay a fine, he sent them
back to Rome. Twice was the Roman
army at his mercy; but the indomitable
spirit of the Romans never gave in. In the
course of time they regained their former
power and took this same General Pontius
prisoner. Fabius, who triumphed on this
occasion, had h«'m put to death in the Ma-
mertine. " Whilst he was borne along in
his chariot," says Arnold,* "according to
custom, his old father rode behind him as
one of his lieutenants, delighting himself
with the honors of his son. But the moment
when the' consul and his father, having ar-
rived at the end of the sacred way, turned to
the left to ascend the hill of the Capitol, C.
Pontius, with the other prisoners of rank"
who thus far followed the procession, were
led aside to the 'right hand to the prison
beneath the Capitoline Hill, and there were

* " Ri)inc/' vol. ii., page 33.

56 The Victims of the Mamertine,

thrust down into the underground dungeon
of the prison and beheaded. One year had
passed since his last battle, nearly thirty
since he had spared the lives and liberty of
two Roman armies, and, unprovoked by the
treachery of his enemies, had afterwards set
at liberty the generals who were given up
into his power as a pretended expiation of
their country's perfidy. Such .a murder,
committed or sanctioned by such a man as
Fabius, is peiuliarl, a national crime, and
proves too clearly that in their dealings wiih
foreigners the Romans had neither magna-
nimity nor justice."

III.

The last of the Macedonian kines, who
bore in his veins the noble blood but not the
great spirit of Philip, poured forth with his
last si<:rh in the Mamertine the fulfilment of
the prophecy of Daniel. Perseus, a weak
and effeminate prince, was the last of the
Grecian rule that dared resist the invincible
legions of the iron empire. He was beaten
in a pitched battle b. the Consul Ailmilius

Pagans cojtfiued in the Mamertine. 57

near Enipeus. He attempted to procure
safety by flying into Crete, but, being aban-
doned by all, surrendered himself to the
conqueror, who brouglit him to Rome to
grace his splendid triumph. When the gor-
geous procession arrived at the foot of the
Capiiol, amidst the deafening shouts of the
delighted people, congratulating their vic-
torious general and heaping insult on the
fallen king, he was led, as usual, to the Tul-
lian keep. After this the warlike state of
Macedon, whose king once sighed there
were no more worlds to conquer, never stood
in the battle-field again, for Greece became
thv» luxurious and civilized garden of the em-
pire.

IV.

JuGURTiiA maybe said to be, perhaps, one
of the most remarkable of the pagan victims
of this horrible prison. His miserable end
is another proof that even in this world there
is a providence that pursues the evil-doer ;
there are few instances in the annals of the
world's crime where murderck^ have not

r?"

i !

58 The Victims of the Mamertine,

received some of their punishment this side
the grave.

He Vv'as the nephew of the King Micipsa
of Numidia, who at death left him in charge
of his two sons, Aderbal and Jempsal. In
ambition to seize the supreme power for
himself he murdered, in cold blood, the
eldest, Aderbal, and attempted the same on
the youngest, but he escaped, for a while
only, the machinations of Jugurtha, and
appealed to the Romans for protection.
Whereupon Jugurtha, being sensible how
much avarice and injustice had crept into
the Senate, sent his ambassadors with large
presents to Rome, who so successfully pre-
vailed that the Senate decreed him half the
kingdom which he had thus acquired by
murder and usurpation. The commissioners
sent to divide the kingdom between him and
Aderbal were ten in number ; amongst
them was Opimius, the murderer of Cajus
Gracchus, a man of venal character; they
accepted still further bribes from Jugurtha
to give him the richest and most populous
part of the kingdom, which at best was but
a temporary provision on the part of Jugur-
tha, for he determined to seize on the whole

Pagans ccufined in the Mamertine. 59

kingdom. It was he that said, on this occa-
sion, that Rome was so mercenary that she
would sell herself to any one who was rich
enough to buy her. The same was after-
wards said in the days of the degenerate
successors of the Caesars. How strange
the nineteenth century has looked down on
the disgraceful fact that some of the venal
and ungrateful children of the same city
have sold her afid her king to a stranger
and a usurper !

Jugurtha soon threw off the mask of his
ambition, and, besieging Aderbal in his capi-
tal, Cirta, at length got him in his power
and murdered him. The Romans, who had
still some sentiments of justice and gene-
rosity, complained of this treachery, and pro-
cured a decree from the Senate that he
should be summoned before them. The
Cimbrian usurper made no difficulty in
throwing himself on the clemency of the
Senate, whom he hoped once more to bribe ;
but failing in this, and giving no satisfaction
for his conduct, he was ordered to leave he
city. Albanus, the consul, was sent with an
army to follow him, who, giving the com-
mand to Auhis, his brother, a person in

6o The Victims of the Mamertine,

every way unqualified for the task, the Ro-
mans were beaten in several battles, and
on one occasion the army, to be saved from
being cut to pieces, surrendered and had to
pass tinder the yoke — the greatest disgrace
known in the military parlance of those
days.

In this condition Metellus, the succeeding
consul, found affairs upon his arrival in Nu-
midia : officers without confidence, an army
without discipline, and an enemy ever watch-
ful and intriguing. However, by skill, by a
rocklike integrity and attention to the refor-
mation of the forces, he soon regained the
power of Rome. In the space of two years
Jugurtha was defeated in several battles,
forced out of his own dominions, and con-
strained to seek for peace. Thus all prom-
ised an easy victory for Metellus, but he was
frustrated by the intrigues of Marius, his
lieutenant, who came to reap the harvest of
glory which the other had sown. He got
himself elected consul, and, returning to
Africa, pursued the war with greater vigor
and even with greater skill than Metellus.
Jugurtha found a powerful ally in Bccchus,
the king of Mauritania, but Marius finally

Pagans confined hi the Mamertine. 6 1

proved the superior force of the Roman
arms by slaying 90,000 of the Africans in
one engagement. Bocchus did not wish
to hazard his own crown for the protection
of his ally, and implored peace from the
Senate. He was given to understand the
delivering up of Jugurtha to the Romans
would conciliate their favor and par-
don.

Accordingly Jugurtha was drawn into an
ambuscade by the treachery of Bocchus. He
was made a prisoner, loaded with chains,"^
and brought to Rome to grace the triumph
of Marius. When the triumphal procession
arrived at the foot of the Capitol, the
wretched captives were led aside to the
Mamertine. Plutarch describes a sad scene
that took place when this fallen general had
entered the prison. Some violently tore his
garments, others, while contending for his
ear-rings, cut off one of his ears, and, cast-
ing -him naked into the gloomy Barathrum,
filled with horror, " By Hercules," he cried,
" how cold is your bath ! " They left him
for six days sinking with hunger ; and, hop-
ing up to the last moment to receive a

62 The Victims of the Mamertine,

reprieve, he ended his life in the merited
retribution of his cruehies.*

Here also ended their days Lentulus,
Cethegus, and Cocsius, who were leading
members in the conspiracy of Catiline.

Catiline was a patrician, but being a de-
signing man \yho wished to aggrandize his
sinking fortunes on the ruin of others, and
in unbridled ambition aimed at the supreme
power. He assembled about thirty of his
associates and informed them of his aims,
his hopes, and settled plans. It was re-
solved amongst them that a general insur-
rection should be raised throughout Italy,
the different parts of which were assigned
to different leaders. Rome was to be fired
in different places at once, and Catiline, at

* " Cui post triumphum in carcerem dejecto, quidam vesli*
mentum violentec laceraverunt, alii vero dum inaures ei au<
ferre deccrtarunt. Dctiusus autem nudus in Barathrum per-
turbatione plenus, obtrectans, ' Heracleus,' inquit, ' quain
frigidum vestrum est balneum !' Sed hunc sex dies colluc-
tantem cum fame et usque ad ultimam horam dcsideiio vitas
suspensum condigna poena suis crudelitatibus confecit."—
Plut.:rch in " Mario" page 412.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 63

the head of an army raised in Etruria, was,
in the general confusion, to possess himself
of the city and massacre all the senators.
Lentulus, who was one of his profligate as-
sistants, who had been pra?tor or judge in
the city, was to preside in their general
councils. Cethegus, a man who sacrificed
great power in the hope of gratifying his
revenge against Cicero, was to direct the
massacre through, the city ; and Caesius was
to direct those who fired it. The vigilance
of Cicero being a great obstacle to their
designs, Catiline was desirous to see him
taken off before he left Rome, upon which
two knights of the company undertook to
kill him the next morning in his bed, in an
early visit on pretence of business. But the
meeting was no sooner over than Cicero was
informed of all that passed in it, for by the
intrigues of a woman named Fulvia he had
gained over Curius, her lover, and one of
the conspirators, to send him a punctual
account of all their deliberations. His morn-
ing visitors were punctual to their appoint-
ment, but found Cicero prepared. Having
taken precautions to protect the city, he as-
sembled the Senate to deliberate on their

64 The Victims of the Mamertine.

further movements. Catiline went boldly
to the Senate to declare his innocence, but,
confronted with the eloquence of Cicero, he
hajtily withdrew, declaring aloud that, since
he was denied a vindication of himself, and
driven headlong by hio enemies, he would
extinguish the flames that were raised around
him in universal rr.In. After a short confer-
ence with Lentulus atid Cethegus, he left
Rome by night with a small retinue to make
the jest of his way to Etruria, wher? Marius,
one of the conspirators, was raising an army
to support him.

In the meantime Cicero had those who
remained in Rome seized, and Lentulus and
Cethegus were cast, with their associates,
into the Mamertine, where they were
strangled after a few days by the execu-
tioner. They show in the prison some iron
hooks, fastened to the peperino blocks, \.o
which the strangling-cords were attachcid.
Catiline himself was not killed in the Ma-
mertine ; he fell on the field of battle after a
desperate fight. His small army of twelve
thousand men fought to the last man, and
fell, as Sallust remarks, with their face lo the
enemy .and on the spot where they com-

Pagans coyifincd m the Mameriine. 65

menced to resist. Catiline himself was
found "longe a suis," still breathing, in the
midst of a circle of slain whom he had hewn
down in his last desperate struggle. "What
a beautiful death," Florus adds, " were it in
the defence of his country ! "

The names ot these who suffered with
Lentulus we have from the following pas-
sage of Sallust: "After Lentulus was cast
into the TuUian, the judges of capital crimes
to whom he was commissioned had his neck
broken with a rope (laqueo gulam fregerunt).
Thus, too, Patricius, of the illustrious family
of the Cornelii, who had borne the consular
d',^nity, and a man of worthy morals and
deeds, found his end. Of Cethe;>-us, Sta-
tilius, Gabinius, Caeparius, we have to record
the same sad fate."*

VI.

Pleminius was another political firebrand
confined in the Mamertine. Livy (Fourth
Decad., fourth book) tells us that whilst in
prison — one of the upper chambers of the

* Catiline, c. Ivi,

66 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Mamertine — he planned his escape with^
cruel cunning. His partisans were to fire
the city in several places at the same time,
and in the confusion to break into the prison
and free him. The conspiracy eked out be-
fore put into execution, and Pleminius was
cast into the lower dungeon by order of the
Senate and strangled.

VII.

The birds in the tropics that kill snakes lift
them in their talons in the air and then let
them fall ; the greater the snake the higher
they bring it. How like the treatment the
cruel and fickle goddess called by the pa-
gans Fortune gives her votaries ! She raises
men at times to the summit of her slippery
globe, and then, hurling them down, laughs
at their fall. In her hands was a wretch
from the court of Tiberius, who ended his
days in giving the Mamertine its due ; they
called him Sejanus.

The imbecile and profligate Tiberius re-
tired into voluptuous solitude, the better to
indulge his abominable passions, leaving this

' «

Pagans coti fined in the Maviertine. 67

monster, the nearest thing to the reflection
of himself in the debauchery and bloodshed
of the capital, to rule and sport with the
lives and property of his subjects during his
absence. The historian Tacitus seems to
want words to tell the horrors of this ty-
rant's career. " So direful," he writes, in
the 70th chapter of his A»nnals, " was this
reign of terror, that all social intercourse,
convivial meetings, conversations, and even
the interchange of common civilities between
the nearest kindred and friends were inter-
rupted ; consternation and reciprocal dis-
trust having so seized on men's souls that
the stoutest spoke in whispers, looking
round them tremblingly, as if the very sta-
tues or mosaics could betray them.* From
wherever the frown of Sejanus fell all fled
as from a devoted spot ; whomsoever he
hinted or glared at in anger was shunned
and forsaken, as if devoted to the infernal
gods. No day passed without its bloody
tragedy, nor was any moment or place re-
spected by the ministers of his tyranny ; the
very sanctuaries, where men were wreathed

* " Etiam muta atque inania tectum et parietcs circumspec-
tabantur."

•*r^.

68 T^e Victims of the Mamertine,

for sacrifice, where no loud word should be^
heard, were profaned by the blood shed in
his anger aitd the cries of his victims."*

But the hour of his downfall arrived. He
was accused of treason to Tiberius, for in his
pride he resolved to be emperor himself. He
was dragged to the Mamertine amidst the
execrations and groans of the people, and
there strangled by order of the Senate. His
body was cast naked on the Gemonial stairs,
and then fli^ng with ignominy into the Tiber.f

VIII.

In Josephus we read (book 8, and chap. 5)
that Titus, the scourge of the Jewish people,
graced his splendid triumph with 100,000 of
that fallen race, and Simon, the son of Giora,
was led in chains by his triumphal car, and
then "to the fate due to the conquered," as
Cicero held, scourged, starved, and strangled
in the Tullian.

There were others of less note, of whom

* " Ubi inter sacra et vota, quo tempore verbis etiam profanis
abstineri mos esset vincla et laqueus inducantur."
f Dion. lib. 58.

im proianis

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 69

we liav'ti no interesting particulars. Such
were Syphax, King of Numidia, condemned in
the triumph of Scipio Africanus; Bituitus,
King of Avernus, the associates of Gracchus
junior, Vercingetorix, the Gaulish leader, and
victim of the triumph of Julius Caesar. It is
asserted by some historians that Perseus,
Syphax, and Bituitus, although condemned to
the prison, were afterwards reprieved and
saved.

The last of the political prisoners of whom
we have any record was Doryphorianus, of
whom Ammianus Marcellinus (book 28,
chap, i), relating the events of the year 368
of the vulgar era, states he was condemned
to death and cast into the Tullian, but was
taken thence by the advice of the emperor's
mother, probably on account of its sacred
character, because it was before this time
consecrated by Pope Sylvester to the service
of God. Doryphorianus was then put to
death by various torments outside of Rome.*

We now come to treat of the Mamertine
in its Christian history — afield full of flowers

«<(

Et Doryphorlanumpronuntiatutn capitis reum trusumque
carcere Tullianomatris consilii princeps exinde rapuit, rever
sumque ad lares per cruciatus oppressit immensos."

The Victims of the Mamertine,

so beautiful we hardly know which to cull
first. We will endeavor to follow events in
their chronological order. With a brief out-
line of the first persecution we will lead to the
vicissitudes, or rather the arrangements, of
Divine Providence that led the first Chris-
tian victims to the Mamertine.

IX.

The "Acts of Alexander" open with an
event that startled the whole city of Rome.
The prefect of the city became a Christian,
and in thanksgiving liberated one thousand
two hundred and fifty slaves.

The tyranny of man to his fellow-man
causes the blush to mantle on the Christian
brow. It is the problem of our existence.
That man should become the property of
another, lose all moral rights, and sink to
treatment not given to irrational brutes, con-
stitutes one of the most terrible forms of
human suffering. In old times he was richest
and greatest who could cause most misery to
his fellow-creatures. The rich men of Rome

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 71

counted their slaves by thousands, and the
law allowed them traffic in human beings as
we do in cattle. They were worked under
the lash in vineyards, sandpits, and buildings ;
often in fetters and in starvation ; the most
delicate forms were exposed without raiment
to the cold blast of winter. Pass at night-
time the gorgeous palace of some wealthy
senator : there are slaves chained to the por-
tals like dogs to scare the thief or intruder.
Look into the Ergastula, the sleeping-cellars
of the slaves : some hundreds of those hapless
wretches huddled together in fearful violation
of the dictates of morality, in hunger and
cold, less comfortable than the stables of our
horses ! See those wretches sitting on the
muddy banks of the island in the Tiber,
naked, their hands tied, and weeping in all
the agony of pitiless despair : they are con-
demned slaves awaiting the arrival of some
tyrant owner, who will give the order to end
their miseries beneath the yellow wave of the
river. That master comes to enjoy the sight
of their dying struggles, to hear the music
of the last shrill, drowning cry of his perish-
ing victims ! When we float in thought
over those horrible developments of the slave

72 The Victims of the Afamertine.

system, those scenes of history where the
wretched were victims of such incredible
barbarity, we feel we could thank the
Almighty, in the name of the human race,
for the regeneration by Christianity.

Not the individual only, not an exceptional
domestic tyrant, bore the brand of inhuman-
ity towards the slaves, but the law, the whole
national feeling, assigned them a moral deg-
radation beyond excuse or palliation. It was
once decreed by the Senate that four hun-
dred slaves should be put to death because
one of their number had murdered his mas-
ter. And this poor wretch had purchased his
freedom in hard cash ; not only was liberty
refused him, but his betrothed bride was vio-
lated. In a fit of rage he plunged his dagger
into the heart of the villain ; yet there was
no justice for the slave.*

Cicero writes : ** If the immortal gods
were visibly to descend amongst us to desig-
nate and set a mark upon that profanation
by which their ire has been enkindled, what
could they light on more foul and abominable
than that the amphitheatre and circus where

* Tacitus, book Iv., nos. 48, 43.

Pagans confined in the Mamcriine. ']'^

the Roman people worship them should
be polluted by the presence of your
slaves. •

To know the horrors of the slavery of the
early ages we have only to look on it in its
modern form, for, alas ! the slave-dhow still
haunts the Southern seas. Their holds are
filled with hapless wretches torn by brutal
force from the little huts on their native hills
and hunting-grounds, where peace and plenty
once smiled, and where they enjoyed in lib-
erty the ennobling feelings of domestic union
and love of country. The slave-markets still
dishonor the fair lands of the West. The
aged father, broken-down with toil, torn
from his spouse and children, is obliged to
work under the lash ; the tender mother is
separated from her offspring, who cling to her
neck with the heartrending agony of blasted
affection ; every tie of human decency or hu-
man right cast to the wind ; trampled or sold
for a paltry coin. The sigh of suffering
humanity is poured forth from the golden
plantations of the South, where those hapless
children of toil are starving amidst wealth

***Quid magis deformatum, inquinatum, perversum, contur-
batum dici potest."— a*«r<7 1« Oral, de Harusp.yX^i.^^, xii.

74 The Victims of the Mamertine.

and plenty they have earned with the sweat
of their brow.

" And each endures while yet he draws his breath
A stroke as galling as the scythe of Death.
The sable warrior, frantic with regret
Of her he loves and never can forget,
Loses in tears the far-receding shore,
But riot the thought that they must meet no more.
Deprived of her and freedom at a blow,
What has he left that he can )'et forego?
Yes, to deep sadness sullenly resigned.
He feels l^is body's bondage in his mind.
Puts off his gen'rous nature, and to suit
His manners with his fate, puts on the brute.
Oh ! most degrading of all the ills that wait
On man, a mourner in his best estate,
All other sorrows virtue may endure,
And find submission more than half a cure.
Grief is itself a medicine, and bestowed
T' improve the fortitude that hem's a load.
To teach the wand'rer, as his woes increase,
.il. " path of wisdom, all whose paths are peace.
But Slavery ! virtue dreads it as her grave ;
Patience itself is meanness in a slave ;
Nature imprints on whate'er we see
That has a heart and life in it— Be free !
The beasts are chartered ; neither age nor force
Can quell the love of freedom in a horse ;
He breaks the cord that held him at the rack,
And, conscious of an unencumbered back.
Snuffs up the morning air, forgets the rein,
Loose fly his forelock and his ample mane ;
Responsive to the distant neigh, he neighs,

Pagans confined in the Mamertinc, 75

Nor stops, till overleaping all delays,

He finds the pasture where his fellows graze."

COWPER.

But modern slavery in its mitigated form
is but the echo of its past terrors. Thus we
(Jo not wonder at the desperate resistance
made to the Roman arms by barbarian na-
tions ; they knew the lot awaited them as
the slaves of the conquerors ; nor do we
wonder at the Christians, according to the
expression of the fathers, to be treated as if
they were no longer human beings, because
they were treated as slaves ; and thus, too,
we understand the commotion in the city of
Rome in the second century of our era,
when one thousand two hundred and fifty
Christian slaves were set free by the prefect
Hermes.

The cause of this strange event is interest-
ing. Death had cast his gloomy shadow on
the palace of Hermes. What wealth, what
power will bid this scoffer of human great-
ness stay at the portals of our homes and
defy him to enter! The only son of the
prefect, a blooming boy in the morning of
his days, was cut down by the slow but fatal
ravages of consumption. Whilst the child

76 The Victims of the Mamertine,

was yet struggling with his malady, and
hourly expecting the fatal moment of dis-
solution, the distracted father, clinging to a
hope, made the altars of the Capitol blaze
with daily sacrifices to its marble gods ; but
in vain. Neither rewards to the priests and
physicians nor vows of more blood availed:
the child died.

In the midst of the funeral pomp, and the
tears of the afflicted parents and relatives, a
poor blind nurse, who loved the child dearly,
had heard of the powerful God of the Chris-
tians, whose votaries never prayed in vain.
In the liberty and familiarity their common
affliction permitted, she chided the father for
not bringing the child to the chief of the
Christian religion. Hermes taunted her
with her blindness, and asked why she her-
self was not cured by the Christian bishop.
Under the impulse of a diyine grace she
hurried to the Pope Alexander, received her
sight, hastened back to the palace of Hermes,
took the dead child in her arms, and, hurry-
ing through the streets, laid him at the feet
of Alexander. The absent spine was called
back to the lifeless body, and the boy has-
tened home to remove with his own hand the

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. yj

emblems of death that hung around his
afflicted home. His father and mother be-
came Christians. The slaves, too, subser-
vient to the beck of their master, and en-
lightened by the same sunbeam of divine
faith, joined in the loud hymn of praise to
the only powerful God — the God of the
Christians.

The:r freedom followed their baptism.
They were scattered through the city to
declare the praises of God and their good
master, and the miracle that made them
free. The baths, the Forum, and the Circus
rang with the startling news ; small crowds
gadiered together to discuss the strange
event, or listen to some bombastic declaimer
lamenting the disgrace that had fallen on
the city. Their prefect a Christian and liberty
given to twelve hundred slaves was an event
more remarkable than the defeat of the Par-
thians or the death of Trajan, that happened
at the same time. Bands of enthusiastic
zealots roamed through the streets shouting,
" Let Hermes be burnt alive! " whilst others,
who knew Alexander, the head of the Chris-
tians, was the cause of the supposed dis-
aster, called for his immediate execution ;

7? The Victims of the Mamertine.

loud and shrill was the shout that echoed
throup^h the Forum, " Christiani ad leones!"
Shortly before his death Trajan, who was
in the East, he ''d '■' th^^ wide spread of
Christianity, and eiii r deputy named Au-
relianto exterminai it in he city of Rome.
Being the representative of the emperor
himself, he had a higher power than
Hermes; consequently he had the prefect
seized and placed him in privata custodia,
under the care of Quirinus, a tribune of the
praetorian camp in charge oi the Mamertine.
The holy Pontiff Alexander was also seized,
but for him there was neither mercy nor
respect, and he was cast into the lower
dungeon of the Mamertine. Hermes, on
account of his former dignity, was confined
in a room in the tribune's own house, and
directions were given to the tribune to use
his ir.fiuence to bring back their cherished
prefect to the worship of idols. Thus the
"Acts " open with these two great champions
in prison, then lead js to a series of events
that constitute one of the most thrilling
tragedies of the early Church.

P i^ans confined in the Mamertine. 79

Towards sunset on the ist of May, in the
year of our Lord 132, the military tribune
who had charge of the Mamertine crossed
the Roman Forum ; rapt in' deep thought,
and heedless of the ever-changing crowd,
he ma^^ his way towards his palatial resi-
dence on the Aventine. News had reached"
the cicy Trajan had ** passed to the gods"
when he had conquered the Parthians, and
Adrian was declared Caesar by the army.
The people were gathered in small crowds
discussing all the possible contingencies of
the strange news, and the hum of many
voices rose and fell in the arched Forum like
billovvs on the sea-shore. It was not the
political changes debated by the crowd that
rapt Quirinus in silent thought and made
hi'i move with rapid step and downcast
eyes. A strange feeling of awe had crept
over his noble soul. He had just come from
the Tullian keep, where he had locked heavy
chains to the hands and feet and neck of
the chief of the Christian sect, and he was
proceeding to his own home, where he had

8o The Victims of the Mamertine,

also bound in chains, for the same cause, the
late prefect of the city.

The halo of sanctity that beamed from the
eyes of the holy Pontiff, the victim of his
dungeon, haunted his thoughts, and the
brave conduct of Hermes, giving up wealth,
power, and probably life, for the Christian
sect, puzzled his clouded understanding.
" There must be," thought he, " some
divine, magical power to charm to fatal
fascination iiji those Christians, or else their
God is alone great and true." Thus thought
Quirinus. Amidst a struggle with the first
glimmerings of enlightened thought flashing
through his soul, and the blind prejudice of
his old pagan spirit, he reached his home on
the Aventine.

According to the custom of the Custodia
privata, Hermes was locked in a room of
the house of Quirinus. Although surrounded
by magnificence, still he was in chains ; a
prisoner, but treated with that respect which
his position and old friendship with the
tribune demanded. He was on his knees
in communion with God, and praying for the
conversion of the tribune's family, when the

in the iron lock, and

K:av\'

ofrated

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 8 1

Quirinus entered, commencing immediately
a conversation of deep and thrilling interest,
which we will quote almost literally from the
" Acts " :

" How comes it, Hermes," said Cuirinus,
" that an illustrious man like you is reduced
to this infamy ? Yoi^ not only abandon the
prefectship, but cheerfully accept these
chains."

" I don't lose the prefectship," replied
Hermes ; " but I have changed it for an-
other. All earthly dignities, Quirinus, are
easily blasted, but a celestial honor remains
in eternal sublimity."

" Now, I wonder at such a prudent man,"
retorted Quirinus, with an air of sarcastic
sympathy, "carried away with the ridiculous
fancy that you will exist after death. Do you
not know the human body so decays in the
lapse of time that not even the dust of your
bones will be found ? "

" Ah ! Quirinus, I once thought so too ;
but by the light that has been given me, I
know life to be a fleeting shadow, and what
is noblest in man is immortal ! "

" Could you prove what you say, Hermes,
and perhaps I, too, might believe."

82 The Victims of the Mamertine,

*' Alexander, the holy bishop you have in
chains, taught me this consoling doctrine — "

•* Thunders of Jupiter fall on you and
him," said Quirinus, interrupting him, " See,
Hermes, go back to your position as prefect,
recall your senses which you seem to have
lost, enjoy your wealth and beautiful family
and splendid palace. Don't let your enemies
scoff at your downfall and the sad condition
you are now in."

" But, Quirinus, you would not let me
answer your question," retorted Hermes
mildly. ' ^

'* I asked you," said Quirinus, " to prove
for me what you said, and you commenced to
speak of a vile magician that I have in chains
and cast into the lower dungeon of our prison.
Do yv^u think I am so foolish as to mind
what you say about a wretch who has de-
ceived you, now paying the penalty of his
crimes in bonds and horrible darkness, to
be burnt, perhaps, to-morrow or the next
day ? If he be any good, let him free himself
and you."

" Quirinus, when the Jews put our Lord
Jesus Christ on the cross, they said the same
thing: 'Let him com.e down now from the

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 83

cross, if he is able, and we will believe in him.*
Had he not seen their hearts were hardened
and filled with perfidy, he would have done
it."

" Well, I will tell you what I will do," said
Quirinus, confident of having struck on a
good thought : " I will go to him and say,
If*you wish me to believe that you are a
minister and worphip the only true God,
either you come to Hermes or let Hermes
come to you, then I will believe all you

M :k

say

Hermes, filled with holy confidence in
God, and ardently desiring the conversion
of Quirinus, said, "Well, let it be so," ac-
cepting the challenge to perform an extra-
ordinary miracle.

Quirinus, smiling, said: "I will go now,
and I will triple his chains and guards, and
will tell him he must come to you at supper-
time ; and, if he can s ay with you the whole
night, I will believe that he is able to in-
struct me."t

* " Ego vado ad eum et dico illl, Si vis ut credam te verum
Dei preconem et verum Deum esse quern colis, aut te apud
Heimen inveniam aut Herman apud te, et omnia quae mihi
dixeris credam." — Acts Bollandi sis. May 3.

f " Vadam ergo modo et super eum vincula triplicabo et

84 The Victims of the Mamertijte,

Alexander was rapt in prayer in his
gloomy prison of the Mamertine, when he
heard the iron grating that closed the open-
ing overhead move, the conversation of men,
and the clanking of heavy chains. Doubt-
less, he thought the hour of his passion had
come, and, with a fervent aspiration for
strength, he prepared himself for the worst.
Another moment Quirinus descended into
the dungeon, and applied three additional
chains to the, holy Pontiff. Alexander, who
allowed himself be bound as they wished,
wondered at the necessity of tripling his
chains in that awful cell, whence escape was
impossible. At length Quirinus told him
of the extraordinary challenge accepted by
his friend Hermes, and telling him good-
humoredly he would also put three addi-
tional guards at the entrance, and then bade
Alexander p-et out if he could.

Left once more alone in the prison, the
holy man began to think over what had
passed. How strange I lermes should make
that appointment ! Bu*- he who wishes the

custodes dicamquc illi ut eum apud te invenlam coenandl
hora, el si hoc potucrif facere per totam noctem, credam qu;jd
et rac poterit edoccrc." — Acts BolUntdists, Afay 3.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 85

salvation of man will also give power to per-
form the miracle to save a soul. Alexander
remembered that the prayer of Josue made
the sun stand still, that the prayer of Moses
gained victory for the Israelites, and that
the angel delivered Peter from prison. As
all things are possible to faith, according to
the word of Christ, full of confidence in
God, he prayed thus : " O Lord Jesus Christ !
who has placed me on the chair of thy apos-
tle Peter, send me an angel who will bring
me hence at evening time to the house of
Hermes, and back in the morning, no one
being aware of my absence until I return."

He continued in prayer. When darkness
had fallen on the city {prima nodtirno
silentio), behold, his prison is suddenly filled
with a beautiful light, and a lovely child
stood beside Alexander, holding in its hand
a lighted torch; turning towards the holy
Pontiff, the child said, " Follow me !"

Alexander was afraid that perhaps there
might be some delusion of the devil in what
he saw, and said to the child, •• As our Lord
Jesus Christ lives, I will not stir out of this
until you kneel down and pra/ with me."
The child, who seemed not to be older than

86 The Victims of the Mamertine.

five years,* knelt with him, and they prayed
for half an hour, terminating their medita-
tions by reciting together the Pater Nos-
ter.

Then the child took Alexander by the
hand and led him t)irough the opening, and
conducted him to the house of Hermes.f

At the appointed time Quirinus went to
the room where he had confined and bound
in chains the prefect Hermes. Not dream-
ing that an extraordinary union between
these two holy souls could be effected, he
determined to try his eloquence once more
on Hermes to induce him to abandon the
Christian faith. He unlocked the door,
when, lo ! there was Alexander kneeling
beside Hermes, his arms stretched out in
prayer. Quirinus was frightened. He fan-

* " Qui videbatur non amplius erat quarn quinque an«
norum."

f " Et apprehendens manum ejus puer duxit eum, ad fenes-
tram quae erat clausa et quasi ostium aperuit eum ct per-
duxit cum ad Hcrmen." — Acts^ etc. Some have believed from
the expression here in the "Acts "that, the -woxA fenestram
being used, Alexander was not confined in the Mamertine;
however, a close study will show that he was really confined
in this prison. The fenestra which quasi ostium the angel
opened was the only ingress for light, food, or persons into
the prison. Baronius, Pia/za, and Martinelli have inlcrpreted
the "Acts" to mean the Mamertine. \

inque an-

Pagans confined in the Mamerthte. %*j

cied a magical delusion passed before him.*
Seeing his excitement, Hermes at length
broke silence, and said : " Quirinus, you pro-
fessed to me that, if you saw us who were
separated in body but united in spirit come
together bodily, you would believe ; now
you see the fact; nor fancy it is for our
gratification you see us, who to-morrow will
be bound again in your chains, thus freed,
but that thy soul may be liberated from the
bonds of superstition and error, that you
may believe in our Lord Jesus Christ, who
hears those believing in him, and grants
what they ask in faith, and nothing hesi-
tating." '

Quirinus, at whose heart grace was rap-
ping for admission, said to Hermes, in a
tone that betrayed his confusion: "Our
magicians could do all this ! "

"Could magicians break through prisons,
and loosen the threefold chain, and break
through the trebled guard ? " asked Hermes
indignantly. " No, Quirinus, only He, our
Lord Jesus Christ, -.v^ho gave sight to the'
blind, cured lepers and paralytics, cast out

* "Ap^ruit ostium et invenlens eos slmul extensis manibu*
orantes et l.^ru'.am ardcntem videos, exterritus est." — Acts.

88 The Victims of the Mamertine,

devils, and called the dead from their tombs,
could perform such wonders. But hear me
for a moment, Quirinus, and I will tell you
how I became a Christian, and gained such
unlimited faith in this holy man (pointing to
Alexander), whom you do not yet know.

" \ had an only son, as charming a boy
as ever laughed back to a mother's joy. As
he grew in years he became passionately
fond of study; too much application told on
his delicate frame, and a slow malady seized
his frame.* We brought him to the Capi-
tol, and, with large offerings, we made the
altars of the gods flow with the blood of in-
numerable victims, but in vain: the boy died.
Whilst I and his broken-hearted mother
were weeping over his lifeless form our old
blind nurse stood by, and in tears reproved
me thus: 'Master, had you taken the child
to the seat of Peter (ad liniina Petri) and
believed in Christ, your boy would live
now.'

" T.ctokinQf on the affectionate nurse with
sympathy, 1 said : * And you, Miria, you are
blind, 'APr' r,by are you no. cured?'

*"Q'. iOhuc ad lltteiarum s;udia ambulabat in nimio
languor^ ];*c>rM'u*," etr.

n nimio

Pagans confined in the Mamcrtine, 89

" ' Indeed, 'tis true/ she replied. ' I am
blind now five years, but if I believed in
Jesus Christ I, too, would have had my
sight.'

'* In my grief I could but smile, and in the
mockery of unbelief I said to her : ' Go,
then; and believe, and, if the Christian bishop
give you your sight, I will perhaps believe
he could raise up my son.'

" She hurried away before I had finished
speaking, and fled whither I know not. It
was the third iiour, and at the sixth she
returned perfectly cured.*

'' We were all gathered around the corpse
of my lovely boy; she rushed through us,
and, without saying a word, took the lad in
her arms, and fled out of the house so fast
that our youths could not follow her. I
learned afterwards she had taken him to
Alexander (pointing to the holy bishop,
who was praying in his heart for the con-
version of Quirinus). Casting the dead
body at his feet, she cried out, * Let me be
blind again, but give life to this child.'
The holy bishop replied to her : * What

* " Tunc abiit ;ul ipsiim rcrca circa horaivi terliajn ct ecce
hora dici sexta levcisa est ad me sana," ^K\:.—Acts.

90 The Victims' of the Mamertine.

Christ has given you Ht will not take from
you, but will also give you the life of this
child.' He prayed. Another moment and
the boy bounded to his feet, and ran to our
embrace alive and sound.*

" Immediately^ that I saw these wonders I
made the nurse bring me to the holy bishop,
and, casting myself at his feet, I prayed he
would let me also be a Christian, which I
am, thanks be to God, from that day. I ap-
pointed the bishop to be the tutor of my son,
and the property that had come to me by
the child's deceased mother 1 gave, with a
great deal more trom my own resources, to
Alexander, for the use of the Christian
Church ; my slaves I set tree, and the rem-
nant of my properly I gave to the poor;
and now, in bonds, and perhaps even under
the very shadow uf death, I fear not the
threat of confiscation ; I defy the impotent
rage of the emperor, and in confidence in
Jesus I will run to grasp the crown Me has
promised to His martyrs." •, >

Whilst the ex-prefect concluded the inter-
estino^ accoupt of his conversion, his coun-

* " Et ippe per so veiiiens ad ine, reuidisset filium meum
viventem et sanum."— ^f/j.

«tn meum

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 9 1

tenance glowed with zeal, and he spoke with
the eloquence and fire that burned in his
generous heart. In his contempt of earthly
goods, in his fearless defiance of torment
and death, he was the stamp of the true
Christian. His words fell with celestial
power on Quirinus, who had already made
up his mind how to act; yet amid the con-
tending passions of his soul one seemed to
claim particular attention at that moment.
Hearing the wonderful cures performed by
Alexander, he naturally thought of his poor,
afflicted daughter Balbina, who, grown to
girlhood, was beautiful, accomplished, and
amiable, but, unfortunately, was very much
disfigured in the neck by a scrofula con-
tracted in her infancy. Her father loved
her beyond measure, but was sorely afflicted
because this deformity precluded the hope
of honorable espousals which he had in-
tended for her according to her noble posi-
tion. Casting himself at their feet, he cried
out: " Grant me a favor, and gain my soul
also to Christ. I have a daughter whom
every beauty adonis, but she is afflicted with
a scrofula on the neck."^ Cure her, and I will

* " Sed collum ejus struma circumdat." — AcU.

92 The Victims of the Mamertine,

leave her all I have, and will follow you to
Christ."

Alexander, in sympathy for the father in
his affliction, and knowing he would gain
both to salvation, replied, *• Go and bring
her Lj the prison to me quickly, take the iron
collar you put around my neck, and let her
wear it for some time ; in the morning you
will find her cured."*

" But how ? " replied Quirinus. " You are
here in my house now : how will I find you
in the prison ? " '

" Never mind, but go quickly and do what
1 asked you. He who brought me hither will
bring me back before you can get there."

When going out", Quirinus wished to leave
open the door which he had previously
locked and bolted on Hermes, but they pre-
vailed on him to shut it as it was before.f
Whilst Alexander and Hermes were taking
leave of each other in p*ayer, the little bo/
with his burning torch opened the window,
beckoned Alexander to follow him, and, be-
ing absent one hour, brought him back to

* *' Et tolle bojam de collo meo et impone ei et fac siiriul
illam manere cum boja et mane invenies illam salvam." — Acts,
** " El cum nollet, coegeriint et clausit " — lb.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 93

the Mamertine, and, putting his chains on
him again, disappeared.*

Quirinus returned to his own quarters.
Astonished and perplexed, he thought he
was in a dream. The miracles performed
by his Christian prisoners were overwhelm-
ing. The conversion of Hermes, the promise
to cure his daughter, and the feeling of gra-
titude, mingled with the sanctity of his pro-
mise, swept away from his heart the linger-
ing attachments to the world and paganism ;
he bravely threw himself on his knees and
offered himself to the true God. With the
liMit of faith love was kindled like a furnace in
his heart, and he wept for his sins before yet
he was baptized. Although the night was
now far advanced, he determined to do the
request of Alexander, and bring Balbina to
him, that they might both be received into
the church.

He roused Balbina from the tranquil sleep
of innocence, and with many tearo told her
what had passed ; how he had given his

* This miracle is similar to that of bi-location we read of
in the lives of several modern saints — St. Francis of Jerome,
St. Philip Neri, St. Liguori, and others mentioned in the
" Acts of Canonization."

94 J^h^ Victims of the Afamertine,

word the moment she was cured to destroy
all the idols in his house, and o^ive himself,
with his friend Hermes, to the faith of Chris-
tianity. ,

Balbina was one of those tender lowers
that bloom in secret and give their fra<; ranee
to the few that pass near. She lost her mo-
ther in her younger days, but found every-
thing in a kind, indulgent father. The de-
formity of her neck obliged her to live a re-
tired life, to avoid the unkind scoff that ever
flowed from the lips of a people strangers to
the sublime laws of charitv. Without know-
ing it she w^as thus preserved from the foul
corruption that blasted every sentiment of
modesty in the maiden heart in pagan so-
ciety, and Providence, that never sends an
affliction without a blessing, destined the in--
nocent and untainted Balbina to be indeed a
flower — one of the fairest in the garden of
the church — worthy to be transplanted to the
celestial garden to please the great Eternal
Gardener with the fragrance of her chastity.
With joy and hope that filled her innocent
heart in ardess vanity she heard from her
father she w^as to be made as fair as other
maidens. Quickly she rose and put on her

Pagans confined in the Mameriine. 95

colobion, selected hurriedly a few ornaments,
and bade her slave attend her.

Her father wrapt his toga over his mili-
tary dress, and led Balbina by the hand.
They hastened through the stately palaces
on the Aventine to the Forum. The night
was dark, and few were to be met in the
abandoned streets at that late hour. Quiri-
niis stepped quickly, for his heart was aglow
with enthusiasm, and even silent tears stole
down his cheeks to relieve internal emotions.
Strange ! the brave colonel had fear. Not
that he feared the steps he was taking were
leading him to the ruin of his temporal po-
sition ; not that he dreaded the indignation
of a heartless tyrant who would torture him
to death ; but he was afraid that, having the
misfortune to imprison the anointed of God,
the Divine judgment might fall on him be-
fore he had set Alexander free. Such fear he
expressed iii the first words he spoke to the
holy bishop in the dungeon of the Mamer-
tine. We must enter the prison once more
with the father and child. Some interesting
scenes will pass here before the dawn of the
morning. .

The Mamertine was a large building with

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96 The I'ictims of the Mameriine^

many apartments. Besides the underground
dungeons which still exist there were cells
and chambers for criminals of minor guilt;
moreover, the governor of the prison had
special apartments for his own use : there
was the audience- room, the secretary, and
even private rooms where he could reside at
pleasure. But as the position of governor of
the prison was one of great trust, it was con-
ferred only on wealthy and independent
men; they generally lived in a sumptuous
palace in th^ more senatorial parts of the
city. Thus it was with Quirinus; he led
Balbina to one of the private apartments,
whilst he would go seek in the lower prison
the man of God, whom he now loves and
fears more than he had that morning ill-
treated and despised.

Leaving Balbina with her slave he hurried
off to the prison. He found the guards he
had placed awake and watching ; he asked
if they had heard any noise. They replied
in the negative. He then unlocked the
massive iron bars that closed the passage
in the rock down to the lower prison, and,
by means of a ladder, descended to Alexan-
der. Whilst the holy Pontiff greeted him

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 97

with his usual amiable smile, Quirinus threw
himself at his feet, and, trembling with a
great fervor of feeling, said, " Pray, father,
oh ! pray, I beseech thee, that the anger of
God, of whom thou art a bishop, may not
overtake me in my sins."

Alexander, delighted at this fervent indi-
cation of grace that had entered the heart
of the tribune, bidding him rise, mildly re-
plied, " Our God does not wish the destruc-
tion of any one, but that sinners be con-
verted. When they placed Him on the cross,
he prayed even for his executioners."

Then Quirinus informed him that Balbina
had come, and awaited in one of the upper
apartments of the prison. The holy Pope
bade him take the iron collar from his neck,
and put it around Balbina's neck, but the
father begged and prayed he would come
and do it himself. Quirinus removed all his
chains, and, carrying the collar with him,
they commenced to ascend to the upper
prisons.

Whilst Alexander and Quirinus were thus
engaged, Balbina was also strangely occu-
pied. She was reclining on a couch, pon-
dering over the strange things her father

'SSmS

98 The Victims of the Mamertine,

had told her concerning the Christians, and
feeHngs of awei were insensibly creeping
over her timid heart. Perhaps she felt the
agonizing anticipation experienced by those
who sit in the anteroom of a surgeon's
study awaiting their turn to undergo some
painful operation. Perhaps the spirits of
evil summoned to her memory the horrible
legends of mysterious arts supposed to be
practised by the Christians in dark under-
ground cellars, colored with all the thrilling
details of bloody and cruel carousals attri-
buted to their assemblies ; or perhaps the joy
of being speedily cured drove away every
girlish fear, and filled her mind with bright
pictures of nuptials, convivial gatherings,
and all the tinsel that flatters human vanity.
Whilst thus a thousand thoughts and fancies
were playing on her youthful imagination,
she perceives the door slowly opening, then
a beautiful light, and in the midst of an
aureola of surpassing brightness she saw a
little boy running towards her. He was the
same that brought Alexander to her father's
house. A more beautiful child Balbina
never looked on; her eyes were riveted.
Her first impulse was to embrace and kiss

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 99

the lovely strange child ; he had his burning,
torch still in his hand, and, approaching the
amazed girl, called her by her name, and, in
the sweet litde voice of a child, said :

" Balbina, you will be cured, but remain in
thy virginity, and I will show you a Spouse
> whose love for you made him shed his
blood." Saying this he disappeared, leaving
Balbina frightened at the strange vision,
and the room as if the lamp were ex-
tinguished, so brilliant was the light shed
around him.*

Whilst rapt in amazement, her eyes daz-
zling like one who had gazed on the sun and
was aroused from a pleasant dream, her fa-
ther, accompanied by the venerable Pontiff,
entered the apartment. She rose with be-
coming grace as a Roman child to salute her
father, but the veneration and awe inspired
by the halo of sanctity that shrouded the
Christian bishop walking beside her fa-
ther lent confusion to her agitated feelings.
The gende smile of Alexander won her con-

•"Ecce puer ille sublto cutn facula apparuit et venit ad pu-
eriam dicens ei, * Balbina salva eris et in virginitate tua per-
mane et ego te faciam videre sponsum tuum qui pro amore
tuo sanguinetn suum fudit.' Haec cum dixisset abscessit,
etc."— ^<r//, cap. iii.

lOO The Victims of the Mamertine,

fidence, and, in a kind, paternal reproof,
said to her. ** Don't be frightened, my child,
we are going to make you a prisoner, but a
prisoner in bonds of love" — words whose
spiritual meaning, perhaps, she did not know
then, but which fell with the sweets of hope
on a heart that was a stranger to earthly ^
affections.

. Alexander, who knew that God had des-
tined miracles for the conversion of a
blinded people, was anxious that the glory
of the trud God might be known in the
power he gave to man by all who were then
in prison in the different cells of the Mamer-
tine. Therefore, seating himself near Bal-
bina, he asked Quirinus, " How many pri-
soners have you under your care here ? "

" Twenty-five," he replied.*

"Go and see," continued Alexander, "if
there be any Christians amongst them."

But Quirinus, in a natural desire to see
Balbina cured, suggested before he would go
Alexander would fulfil his promise towards
his afflicted child. He complied with the re-
quest, and placed the iron collar on the neck
of Balbina ; the father, smiling with joy and

* Usuard has one hundred and t\vcnty>five.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, loi

rattling the heavy keys, went off to roiase
his sleeping victims to make a demand that,
in the dreadful time of persecution, sounded
with a thrill of horror: "Are there any
Christians amongst you ? " Whilst Quiri-
nus, having left his daughter with the collar
fastened, passed with the guards through
the chambers of sighs,* rousing perhaps
from dreams of liberty and prosperity some
hapless children of misfortune, Alexander
was pouring streams of heavenly light into
the soul of Balbina. Like the diamond, rough
and dull, covered vnxks. earth when first lifted
from its crystal cell, becoming brilliant and
bright in the hands of the jeweller, so the
words of the bishop brightened that clouded,
beautiful soul of Balbin^; and made it re-
flect, in all its dazzling purity, the light of
eternal truth. The charming child that was
the prophet of her mysterious nuptials, the
allusions to the bonds of love that were to
make her a happy prisoner of Jesus, flashed
with grace to her memory and were easily
understood. There are moments when the
soul bursting with emotion can only express
itself in tears ; and Balbina, whose innocent

* "CellaB gemituum."

1 02 Tke Victims of the Mamertine,

heart was as tender as the leaf of the sensi-
tive plantj gave vent in tears to the dawn of
Christian joy that flooded her soul.

" Does the iron collar hurt your neck, my
child ? " we fancy we hear the venerable
Pontiff mildly enquire.

•' Oh ! no, good Christian 1 'Tis softer than
a necklet of dew-drops gathered from the
rose-leaf; 'tis lighter than my mother's hand
when first she dressed the wound."

" And when thy neck shall be as fair as
the tinted marble, how cheerfully wilt, thou
bear the ruby necklet thy Spouse has des-
tined for thee amongst the treasures of his
love ! " sugorested Alexander.

She little dreamed then that Alexander re-
ferred to the red and bloody gash of the ex-
ecutioner's axe, which, received for the faith,
is the richest ornament the maiden neck can
bear.

Outside diey hear the step of Quirinus,
the rattling of keys, and the sound of other
voices, and, entering, Quirinus announced to
Alexander he had " found two Christians, who
were also priests, amongst the prisoners ;
they were called Eventuus and Theodulus;
the latter, they say, has come from the East."

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 103

Alexander, desiring to see thein, Qujrintilfe
called them in. They cast themselves at the
feet of their Pontiff, and embrace him with
holy joy.

A few words of explanation followed.
These holy priests were sent from the East,
as was customary with Trajan, that they
might be put to death before the Roman
people to deter them in the capital from em-
bracing Christianity. Eventuus was an old,
feeble man, gray-headed, and trembling un-
der a venerable old age. Theodulus was in
the bloom of his manhood, but ripe in virtue
and heroic sanctity. It is probable they had
never seen the Holy Father until that night,
and as love and reverence towards the Holy
See — a characteristic virtue of the early
Christians — ever glowed brighter as the hour
of trial was darker, we can fancy what joy
filled the hearts of those noble exiles as
they prostrated themselves to kiss the feet of
the Vicar of Jesus Christ.

In proportion as faith is warm and pure
it turns with filial confidence to the pilot of
our storm-tossed bark; neither oceans, nor
deserts, not* impassable mountains can break
the union of the Catholic with the visible

104 The Victims of the Matnertine,

head of the Church. He may be like his
Master, persecuted, concealed in dismal,
catacombs, consigned to a loathsome dun-
geon, or in chains on his way to martyrdom ;
still faith recognizes the Vicar of Jesus Christ,
and is fanned to greater fervor in the feeling
of sympathy in which it participates in his
wrongs. Eventuus and Theodulus forgot
every pain in the joy of being in such holy
company. Quirinus shares in their joy, for
he who confers happiness on others feels the
blessing rebound, like an echo, to its cause.
But greater joy is yet in store for the no-
ble tribune. Balbina, who was still reclining
on her couch and with the heavy iron collar
of a criminal on her neck, silently watched
what was passing. Catching the eye of her
father, she beckoned for him to come to-
wards her. A cheerful smile playing around
her lips, she told him her neck was cured.
He removed the iron, and his eyes feasted
for a moment on the lovely form of his child.
Not a trace of the deformity was left : the proud
father could boast of the fairest daughter in
Rome. Filled with emotion, he embraced
Balbina, and, in rushing towards Alexander,
threw himself on his knees, and cried out:

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 105

" O holy men ! leave the prison before the
anger of God falls on me ! " In deep gra-
titude he offered not only liberty but wealth
and earthly rewards to the venerable Pontiff,
but prayed first for baptism for himself and
Balbina.

Alexander, placing his hand affectionately
on his shoulder, bade him rise, then, looking
seriously towards him, said :

" Quirinus, if you wish to reward me for
the favor I have, through our Lord Jesus
Christ, conferred on Balbina, bring all the
prisoners you have here, and let them be-
come Christians."

" Ah ! you Christians are good," said Qui-
rinus ; " but these prisoners are thieves,
murderers, and perjured villains steeped in
crime. Will you contaminate yourself by
having intercourse with such wretches ? "

" Yes, Quirinus," rejoined the holy fa-
ther mildly; '^we are ministers of Him who
came to call poor sinners. Bring them to
me. ^

Quirinus assented. He called one of the
guards, and gave orders to have all brought
to his presence. A few minutes, and the room
is filled with a motley crew— the outcasts of

io6 The Victims of the Afamertine.

society, hapless victims of unbridled passion,
hands stained with blood, thoughts burning
with futile desires, and hearts hardened with
vice ; yet He who feasted with sinners, who
came to call them, and whose angels rejoice
on their return, can make that which is red
as crimson white as snow, and that which is
dark as blood pure as wool.

Alexander addressed his fellow-prisoners
with thrilling eloquence. The writer of the
" Acts " has given us an epitome of what he
thought Alexander said. We need not tarry
over his appeal ; the dread mysteries of
Christianity were the theme of this eloquent
sermon over the dungeon of the Mamertine.
Suffice it to say, all who listened were con-
verted, and, probably, that night; whilst
Rome was yet buried in sleep and the dawn
breaking through the gray clouds of the
east, Quirinus, Balbina, the prisoners, and
keepers of the Mamertine were all received
into the bosom of Christianity and washed
with the saving waters of baptism. The
prison, the '* Acts " say, became like a
church — the nearest thing we could have
this side of the grave to the kiss of justice
with peace.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 107

XI.

During the proceedings we have just de-
scribed, there was one of the officials of the
prison — a secretary to Qiiirinus — who stood
aloof, and, in a hardened heart, was grum-
bling at the orders of the tribune. Early
the next morning he hurried off to the
palace of Aurelian, the procurator of
Adrian, to tell his story., A body of sol-
diers were immediately marched to the Ma-
mertine to seize Quirinus.
, Perhaps in the tomes of the Bollandists,
amongst the records of the undaunted sol-
diers of Christ before the tribunals of the
pagans, we may not find a more fearless
hero than the brave Quirinus. The bold-
ness with which he addressed Aurelian is in-
teresting.

' " Quirinus," said Aurelian, " I have ever
treated you as a son, and now, allowing
yourself to be deceived by that Christian
Alexander, you enrage me against you."

Quirinus, in a bold voice, replied : " I have
become a Christian ; you may kill me, flog
me, or burn me ; Til not be anything else !
Moreover, I made all who were in the prison

^ -M ^

1 08 TAe Victims of the Mamertine,

become Christians, and I gave them leave to
go away, and they would not ; especially the
holy Pope Alexander and the illustrious
Hermes, and they refused -to go. The pri-
soners said to me that, as they had to give
their lives for their crimes, how much more
would they now give them for the name of
Christ ! I certainly asked all that were bap-
tized to go where they would, but instead of
availing themselves of their liberty they are
now voluntarily awaiting in prison the death
you will gi<ve them, like persons famished
with hunger waiting for the most delicious
feast. So, whatever you have a mind to do
with me, commence at once."

Aurelian, filled with indignation, neverthe-
less listened till Quirinus had finished, and
then, turning to one of the lictors, said, •' Cut
out the tongue of this man who has the au-
dacity to speak to us thus " — turning towards
Quirinus — "and then perhaps \ ou will hold
your peace whilst we torment you on the
rack."

The order was executed in his presence,
and Quirinus was stretched on the rack.
Nevertheless, God gave him the power of
speech, and, taunting the tyrant for his cruelty,

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 109

said, "Miserable and unhappy man! think
of thy soul in time, lest you sink into eternal
pain." These are the last words recorded
of Quirinus. The judge ordered his hands
and feet to be cut off, and then to be decapi-
tated on the Appian Way. He was drawn
on a wagon by six oxen to the place of his
martyrdom. The precise spot is unknown,
but we may safely conjecture it was at the
temple of Mars — and therefore another
amongst the hallowed reminiscences around
the "Domine quo vadis?" His holy re-
mains were to be exposed on the high-
way as food for the dogs, the Christians
removed them to the Catacombs of St. Prae-
tentatus, which were near. Thus ended the
career of the noble tribune, who, about the
same hour on the preceding evening, was
abusing Hermes for his folly in becoming a
Christian. He not only became one himself,
but a saint and a martyr.

tltmBi

I lo T/ie Victims of the Mamertine,

XII.

THE CHAINS OF ST. PETER.

Whilst the Christir is were carrying to
the Catacombs the yet warm remains of the
brave Qiiirinus, strange events were passing
at the Mamertine. Balbina, in all the fulness
of joy that had burst on her soul like long
forgotten sunshine, still unconscious of the
awful death of her father, sat near the ven-
erable Pontift and listened in breathless at-
tention to his thrilliiig exhortations; soon
her noble heart was throbbing with generous
resolve ; the vow of perpetual virginity was
registered in heaven ; with the torch of faith
was enkindled the sweet fire of love towards
the celestial Spouse promised her by the an-
gelic child she had seen in her vision.

Through reverence and devotion she kissed
over and over again the chains that bound
Alexander. Alexander, by a divine inspira-
tion, bade her not to kiss his chains, but to
seek the chains of St. Peter and kiss them.'"*
Perhaps the holy Pontiff saw the moment for

* " Desine hanc bojam osculari sed potius quaere Beaii
Petri vincula et ea osculate." — A(ls^ ib.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 1 1 1

recovering the chains of Peter opportune.
Her father was chief of the prison ; the guards,
too, were Christians, and those chains, which
had been secreted for fifty years in some
part of the prison, could now be easily
brought forth and placed in the keeping of
the Christians. Balbina rushed to some of
the guards, and made them seek with her for
those treasures, nor did she cease the search
until her zeal and energy was rewarded by
finding them.* She brought them to Alex-
ander. He bade her take them away to her
own house, and have them preserved with
reverence until the persecution would cease.
Those chains have never been lost sight of
since ; they are preserved in Rome in one
of the grandest basilicas in this city of
churches. This church is called " St. Peter in
Chains." The interesting memories cast
around its origin, and its connection with the
chains discovered in the Mamertine by Bal-
bina, induce us to leave the holy Pontiff in-
structing his neophytes in the upper chamber
of the prison, whilst we cast a glance at these

laere Beaii

* " Tunc data f ibi opera, cum studio ac desiderio magno
pervenit ad Ilia.' — Actt.

1 1 2 The Victims of the Mamertine, i

historic relics of the past — the chains of St.
Petc;r.

The shadows of the saints fell with healing
power on the sick. Their garments and
everything they touched in ordinary use
have been honored by God with miraculous
powers and treasured by the church as sa-
cred. How much reverence must we not
have for those chains which bound in prison
the hands that worked miracles, and were
stained with the blood of those great ser-
vants of God ! From the very beginning the
Christians manifested their reverence towards
the chains of the martyrs, and, often in fear
they might pass again into profane use, they
were buried with their relics in the Cata-
combs. Those holy emblems cf the suffer-
ing children of the church fired the eloquence
of Chrysostom, Augustine, and Ambrose.
At one time they tell us the chains of the
martyrs make the powers of darkness trem-
ble, and banish to their abyss of woe the mul-
titude of the invisible spirits of iniquity that
float like atoms in the air to waylay man.
" If," says St. Chrysostom, " I were asked
which would give me more pleasure, St. Paul
coming out of heaven in glory, or out of

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 1 1 3

prison in chains, I would prefer the latter."
The links of those chains shall shine like
suns of glory on the last day; their clanking
noise as they brush together will be like
music from silver bells; they shall be orna-
ments for the festive gathering of the just.*

" Happy chains ! " says St. Augustine,
" which held the almost fleshless bones and
received the perspiration of living blood,
which led their victims to the cross more
in honor than in guilt." f

Amongst the chains of the martyrs none
have been preserved with greater reverence
than those of St. Peter. Not only those
which bound the apostle in the Mamertine,
but also those that fell from his hand and
feet at the command of the angel in Jeru-
salem have been preserved in a magnificent
church on the Esquiline, in Rome, for more
than fifteen hundred years. It is generally
supposed this magnificent church took its
origin from the vows of a mother who

* Chrysostom. .

f " Felices catenso ! qusc nudatis pene ossibus inhncrentes
vivas reliquias do sanguinis sudore jam attrita carne rapue-
runt ; fclicia vincula ! qua; reum usque ad Christi cruccm non
tarn condcmnatum quam consecratum miserunt," etc. — Angus-
Hue, Semi. 39, De Sanctis,

1 14 The Victims of the Mamertine,

sought a certain son-in-law for her daughter.
It happened thus: \

Eudoxia, wife of Theodosius the Second,
Emperor of .the East, who flourished in the
first half of the fifth century, desired to have
her daughter Eudossia married to Valenti-
nian III., the youthful Emperor of the West.
Being a virtuous, pious queen, she made
a vow, if it pleased God to grant her wish,
she would, amongst other works of piety,
make a pilgrimage to the holy places in
Jerusalem. ' Her wishes were granted. Her
daughter was married to Valentinian. Eu-
doxia fulfilled her vow, and started for Jeru-
salem. We have met some author who
states that Eudoxia made this vow to have
her daughter freed from some malady ; but
ctrtain it is she went to Jerusalem, and
conferred great favors on the population of
that city. She rebuilt the walls, endowed
several monasteries, and erected a beautiful
Church to St. Stephen. In return for these
favors, the inhabitants gavQ her the chains
of St. Peter — those which fell from his hands
and feet when led from the prison of Herod
by the angel. These chains were preserved
with gneat reverence by the people, and a

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 1 1 5

constant and sacred tradition, and after-
wards miracles, proved them to be the real
chains of the apostle, although we have not
been able to find where they were preserved
during the siege and burning of the city by
Titus. They were given to Eudoxia about
the year 432. Returning to Constantinople,
she gave half of these chains to the church
of St. Peter in that city ; the other half she
sent to her daughter Eudossia at Rome.
This holy queen, equally grateful to God for
the realization of her anxious hopes, and in
reverence to the treasure sent her, rebuilt
the church on the Esquiline, and dedicated
it to the tide of " St. Peter in Chains."*

When the chains sent from Jerusalem
arrived in Rome, they were brought by

* " Quae quidem ex voto fecisse videtur. Sunt igitur et
prscsertim inter recensiores scriptores qui dicant sacram banc
ecdcm circa dimidium quinti sseculi ab Eudoxia Valentiniani
tertii uxore fuisse constructam, atque eo etiam tempore prop-
terea quod S. Petri Catenje in earn delatiB fuerunt, ad vincula
niincupatam, Ita Pompeius, Ugonius, Baronius (an. 439), Pan-
cirolus (page 210), Donatus, Ciaconius, Cornelius a Lapide,
Mariinellus, Bailletus, Boldetus, et alii," etc. Extract from
Monsacrati, De Catenis S. Petri, chap. ii. p. 13. — For the
history and preservation of the Jerusalem chains, see also
Monsacrati, who gives an extract from an ancient Greek
writer, quoted by Metaphraste, Surius, and Combefisius,
chap. i. p. 7.

1 16 The Victims of the Mamertine, '

tiidossia to Sixtus III. In the hands of
this holy Pontifif the two chains became mira-
culously united, as they may be seen to the
present day. This strange fact, though often
ridiculed by heretical writers, is given by
such grave authorities as Ambrose, Baronius
(anno 439), Petrus de Natalibus, Ugonius,
Panciroli, and others.'"'

Sigebert relates in his Chronica under the
date 969, when Otho, the Emperor of Ger
many, was in Rome, one of his courtiers was
possessed ,by the devil, so that in the pre-
sence of all the people he commenced to
bite and tear the flesh off his arms. He
was brought, by the order of the emperor,
to Pope John XXIII., that he might be
touched by the chains of St. Peter. When
the priests applied to the possessed false
chains of the apostle, the demon but tortured
him more — there was no remedy where there
was no reverence; but when the real chains
were brought, howling and inflicting fear-
ful contortions, the demon left the body.
There was a holy bishop named Deodericus
present at this scene, who was so struck with
the power of the holy relics, that he seized

* Monsecrati, p. 37,

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 1 1 7

the chains, protesting he would not let them
go until a portion of them were given to
him. The Pope, at the request of the
emperor, gave him one of the links of the
chain.

It was the custom of th'=* popes to have
links of those chains cast into gold keys,
which were laid on the tomb of the apostle
and then sent as great favors to princes.
Gregory the Great, sending one of these keys
to some knights of the Court of Mauritius,
Mauritius, relates that one of these keys was
found in a city of Lombard y, and some one,
^vishing to convert the gold into some other
use, seized a knife and proceeded to break the
key to pieces. He had scarcely raised his
hand to strike when the knife was forcibly
taken out of his hand by some invisible
power and plunged into his throat, and he
immediately fell dead.* When Autharith,
the king of the Lombards, together with
his courtiers, saw this man lying in his
blood, and the key beside him, they were
seized with great fear, and refused to raise

* " Qui mox cultellum cum quo earn (clavem) per partes
mittere voluit arreptus per spiiitum sibi in guttere defixit,
eademque hora defunctus cecidit."— £/tj., lib. 6, epis. 23.

1 1 8 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the key. They sent for a holy man named
Minulfus, who placed it in the reliquary.

In memory of this miracle, Autharith
ordered another gold key to be cast and
sent to Pope Pelagius II.

Mabillon, in the "Acts of the Benedictine
Order," relates how the holy Abbot Adson,
of the Monastery of Vitriacus, cured the
Count Heribert by the water in which he
had washed some links of the chain of St.
Peter.*

XIII.

MARTYRDOM OF ALEXANDER, EVENTUUS, AND
' THEODULUS. "

Whilst Balbina \7as hurrying to her home
with her treasure, the soldiers had come to
the Mamertine and seized Alexander, Even-
tuus, and Theodulus, together with all the
prisoners. She was thus preserved to spend
a few days longer amid the sorrows of life
and prepare for a glorious crown, which God
would give her in His own time.

When thev arrived at the tribunal of Au-

* Tom. 2, No. 13, p. 816.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, i y y

relian, the prisoners were first disposed of.
Thev suffered a cruel but glorious martyr-
dom. They were placed on board an old,
leaky ship, with their hands tied together,
and thus sent out to sea. How long they
survived on " the wild waste of waters " it is
impossible to say ; but the ocean guards
their precious relics in some secluded cavern
far down in its fathomless waters, and will
give them up on the last da)^ — a bright,
shining band amongst the innumerable vic-
tims of her watery graves. The Church
honors them on the loth of April, as it is
supposed it was on this day, in the year 132
(according to Baronius),they were sent to sea.

Alexander and the two priests were now
summoned to the tribunal of the impious
Aurelian. . The scene was such as w^e might
expect from the intrepid and eloquent Chris-
tians and the impotent rage of the con-
founded judge. ,

" Before we enter into other matters," said
Aurelian, ** tell me some of the mysteries of
your sect ; for I can't understand how you
prefer to die rather than be persuaded."

"What you ask," replied Alexander, "is
holy, and not to be given to dogs."

1 20 The Victims of the Mamertine. '

''What! Am I, then, a dogr?" shouted
Aurelian, already reddened with rage.

" Indeed," said Alexander, " you are worse
than a dog, for a poor dog ceases to live
when he dies, and will not be cast into
eternal torments for his crimes."

" Do you not know, if you do not answer
my questions properly, I can have you
beaten with rods ? "

" Aurelian, tyrant as you are, why do you
with such rash presumption ask such things
from me, who, besides the Eternal King, who
is in heaven, fears no other? You err if
you think of seeking information from Chris
tian men without the intention of believ-
ing."

" Cease thy loquacious sophistry," said
Aurelian, assuming a great air of importance.
" It is not to an ordinary judge thou art speak-
ing, but to one whose power the whole world
feels."

" Do not boast of your power, for it will
not last long." Alexander spoke as if the
divine Light had permitted him to see the
awful end that was making haste to come
on the impious Aurelian.

The judge then said: "Thus you dare

Paqahs confined in the Mamertine. 1 2 1

speak because you know that presently you
will be torn with torments."

Alexander smiled. " That will not be
anything new," he replied ; " for what inno-
cent person was ever known to escape thy
injustice ? They only are permitted by you
to enjoy life who deny our Lord Jesus
Christ ; and, as I am firmly resolved, by his
grace, not to deny him, I will have to suffer
death at thy hands, like Hermes, that holy
man who is now indeed illustrious, and
Quirinus, who is now a tribune in the celes-
tial kingdom, and, like others who have
been illumined in the faith, whom thou hast
sent to their eternal crown.

"And why," asked Aurelian, "do you all
prefer to be killed ? I have asked you this
already." -^

" And I have told you that we don't give
holy things to dogs. ^ '. ;

"Again you say I am a dog? That's
enough. The lictor's rods are at hand."

" I don't fear your stripes," said Alex-
ander. " They give a short-lived pain, and
then are forgotten ; but I fear torments you
do not seem to fear, but which you will one
day feel."

122 The Victims of the Mamertitie. '

The passion of Aurelian, like the stream,
stopped for awhile by some impediment, at
length bursts its dam and sweeps along with
greater violence, was now an irresistible
torrent of fury. Scourges, racks, and red-
hot plates, and all the painful ministers of
impotent rage, were ordered for the great
Pontiff. In silence and prayer the brave
Alexander allowed them do with his body
what they wished. So great was his pa-
tience that, while they were dislocating his
bones on «the rack, he did not as much as
utter a groan. Aurelian, wishing to ge:
some sign of agony that would gratify the
insatiable cruelty of his heart, at length said
to his victim : ** Why don't you spea ; ? *

Alexander, as calmly as if making his
morning meditation in his private oratory,
replied : *' Because in the time of prayer
the Christian is speaking with his God."

" Answer all that I ask you, and I will
make them cease to torture you."

" Fool ! I despise your torments, and fear
not the worst of your cruelty."

'* You should consider you are still young,
and may have many years of life."

Alexander did not reply to this, but, after

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 1 23

a moment, said : ** Would that you think of
your soul and save it!"

Amongst the spectators at this cruel scene
was the wife of Aurelian. Touched with a
natural feminine sympathy, and perhaps, too,
converted in her heart by the firmness of the
holy martyr, she sent one of her pages over
to Aurelian, saying: "Save thyself, and
dismiss this holy man. Otherwise you will
die a bad death and leave me a widow."

Looking towards her with a frown, he
said, in a loud voice : " Perhaps you are a
friend of his, that you speak thus ! "*

Nevertheless he gave the order to have
the holy bishop removed from the rack, and
in the meantime had the two priests, Even-
tuus and Theodulus, brought before him.

Who has not heard of the true and safe
principle that " a good action is never lost"?
A cup of cold water given in the name of
Jesus has its reward in heaven ; and even
where man is ungrateful and forgots the

* •' Et cum esset in aquuleo suspensus misit ad Aurclianum
uxor ejus dicens : Libera et dimitte istum sanctum quia et
tu mala morte moriturus es et me viduam derelinques. Aure-
lianus dixit : Nonne amicus tuus es et ideo talia verba pro
ipso loqueris?" — Acts^ib,

1 24 The Victims of the Mamertine. \

services rendered, God will vindicate. The
sympathy of Severina towards the suffering
martyr gained for her the light of faith, and
with it a crown of glory.

Eventuus and Theodulus are now brought
in. All eyes are turned towards them, and
a murmur of sympathy passes through the
hall. Eventuus is a feeble old man, sup-
ported by a stick, and leaning on the arm
of his younger companion. The snows of
eighty years have whitened his locks, and
his whole, frame trembles with age and
debility. Yet the imprisoned soul, that
never grows old, was as vigorous and brave
as when it animated the blooming youth of
twenty. His vivid, bright eye and feeble
efforts to move quickly to the tribunal
showed the joy with which he awaited the
glorious death that would burst the bonds of
his earthly prison and close his protracted
exile. Of the early history of those brave
martyrs we know nothing, and that only is
preserved for us which is given in the
interesting ** Acts of Alexander."

Turning once more towards Alexander,
he said to him: "Tell me, Alexander, who
are these ? " ; *

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 1 25

The Pontiff replied : " They are both holy
men and priests."

" How do you call yourself? " said Aure-
lian, looking fiercely at Eventuus.

" In my carnal name I am called Even-
tuus; in my spiritual name I am a. Chris-
tian!"

** And when did you become a Chris-
tian ? "

** Seventy years ago. I was baptized at
the asfe of eleven ; at tvventv I was made a
priest; and now I am eighty-one years old,
and the last year, thanks to God, I have
spent in prison for his holy name."

"You ought to take pity on your old
age," said Aurelian. "Deny that Christ is
your God, and I will give you riches and
make you a noble."

Eventuus, with the greatest indignation,
replied: "Are you mad? I thought you
knew something, but I see what a fool you
are. Blind and hard-hearted, you will
not understand what your false gods are.
Know, then, at length, miserable man, that
you are mortal like all other men. Do
penance and believe in Christ, the Son of the
' true God, that you may also find his mercy ! "

ill

126 The Victims of the Mamertine, \

1 Aurelian, seeing there was little hope of
gaining anything from such a veteran soldier
of the Cross, had him put on one side, and
turned towards Theodulus.

"Then you are Theodulus, who has also
dared to despise my orders?"

" And I shall continue to do so, and to
despise yourself too, who thus lacerate the
innocent Christians," replied Theodulus, with
Christian firmness equal to the bravery of
his undaunted companion. " What has Alex-
ander donp to you that you should ill-treat
him thus?" , irr^

Then Aurelian said; "Do you think that
you will escape ? "

He replied : " I hope, in the mercy of God,
I shall not be separated from them."

Aurelian, with diabolical cruelty, deter-
mined what sort of death to give those brave
champions of the Christian faith. They
were to be thus disposed of Alexander
and Eventuus were to be tied back to back,
and thus cast into a burning furnace, whilst
Theodulus was to be allowed to look on, that
the awful death of the others might shake
his resolution and make him a convert to
the absurdities of paganism. The execution-

has also

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 1 2 7

e.rs were not long preparing the dreadful
instrument of torture."^ But the holy mar-
tyrs were filled with holy joy rather than
fear. The impious Aurelian waited to see
the thrilling sight that was to gratify his
inhuman cruelty. At length the furnace
roars in blazing fury ; the holy martyrs are
tied; they are flung in. Alexander, filled
with a holy joy, cried out to Theodulus :
'• Brother Theodulus, hasten and come in
here with us, and we shall be like the three
children of Israel ; and even the fourth; who
sang with them, is here with us now."
Theodulus sprang with a light heart into
the furnace, and they all three sang together
portions of the Psalms of David. Their
voices mingled with the hoarse roar of the
devouring flames, but ascended as the
sweetest music to the throne of God.f Not
a hair of their heads was touched by the

* "Tunc Aurelianus jussit fortlter incendifurnumet jussit
Alcxandrum et Eventuum dorsum ad dorsum ligari et sic
prxcipitari in futurum candentes. — Acts,

\ "S. Alexander clamavlt dicens : Frater Theodule, festina
venire hue ct age nobiscum ; . . . ille quartus qui inter tres
piieros Hajbraeos apparuit nunc hie nobiscum est. Et
cxiliens in ignen? S. Theodulus ingrcssus est furnum." —
Aits, il\

128 The Victims of the Mamertine,

flames. The hand of that God who protected
the children of Israel in their furnace was
not shortened. He was also the God of the
martyrs.

The tyrant was so confounded, he groaned
in his rage, and, straitened in fury, ordered
Eventuus and Theodulus to be beheaded,
and Alexander to be pierced all over with
sharp-pointed instruments. Thus these holy
martyrs passed to their crown.

But the triumph of passion is short-
lived. The warnings given to the impious
Aurelian were not in vain. The moment
the happy souls of the martyrs had fled,
gratified in his imagined triumph, he made
use of some scoffing expression over the
bleeding and palpitating remains of his
victims. Suddenly he heard a terrible voice
ffom some unseen person, which, calling him
by his name, said : " Those whom you mock
are carried to the delights of heaven ; for
you is opened a dungeon in hell." *

The impious judge trembled with fear.

* " Cumque eis qu.isi mortuis insultarct, vox facta est
repente de ccelo dicens: Aurcliane istis qiiibus insultas
apcrtus est paradisus dcliciarum ; libi autem apcrtiis est
tartarus ct infcrnus." — Acts.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 1 29

He hurried home, where fresh terrors await-
ed him. Like the mysterious hand that an-
nounced destruction in the banquet-hall of
Baltassar, a flaming scourge was brought
by an invisible power, and cast at the feet of
the terrified Aurelian. He called Severina,
and begged of her to pray to her God for
him ; but her heart was already converted to
the true God of the Christians, and, seeing
he deserved the judgment that had come on
him, she fearlessly declared she would go and
look after the bodies of the martyrs, that their
prayers might save her from the just judg-
ment of God.* She had their bodies carried
to her own vineyard, seven miles outside of
Rome on the Via Nomenjana, and 'irocured
that the exequies should be performed with
becoming solemnity.

On her return she found Aurelian raging
mad. Uttering the most horrible blasphe-
mies, and biting his tongue with rage, he gave
up his soul to the demons, who were waiting
to carry it in triumph to the regions of woe,
prepared for the persecutors of the Church
of God.

*"Scvsrlna vero dixit ei : * Ego vadam et per me sepeliam
eos ne et mihi similiter contin)fat.' " — Acts.

[

130 The Victims of the Mamertine.

Severina clothed herself in mourning gar-
ments, and remained day and night before
the tombs of the martyrs until Sixtus, who
was appointed by the Roman clergy to suc-
ceed the deceased Pontiff, had arrived from
the East. At her request a church was
erected,, and a bishop appointed to take care
of the district in which was the town of
Nomentum. All mention of this episcopate
died away in the fourth century, but the
ruins of Nomentum are still to be seen at the
modern tcjwn of Lamentano.

At what time Hermes was put to death
is not certain, as Aurelian had him strangled
privately in the Mamertine, for fear of
tumult amongst his slaves and friends. Nor
yet have we anything certain of Balbina.
One MS., which seems to be the most au-
thentic, mentions, before going to martyrdom,
she gave the chains of St. Peter to Theo-
dora, the sister of Hermes, and this MS.,
which says, " et necata est," does not re-
cord the particulars of her glorious end. A
church has been erected to her name on the
Aventine.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 1 3 1

XIV.

DISCOVERY OF THE TOMB OF ALEXANDER.

From scenes that took place in the second
century, we pass to events of our own days,
connected with the great martyr Alexander.
From the fifth successor of St. Peter, who
was dragged from the Mamertine to martyr-
dom, we come to contemplate an interesting
scene in the lifetime of the illustrious Pon-
tiff, Pius IX., who, 1 741 years afterwards,
sits in the same chair of St. Peter. The dis-
covery of the tomb and Catacombs of Alex-
ander, the visit of Pius IX. to this venerable
shrine, and the accident which nearly de-
prived the world of its greatest man, are
now facts of history. ^

We read in the " Acts of Alexander " that
Severina had their precious remains brought
to her own vineyard, at the seventh mile
outside the Nomentan gate. She procured
from Sixtus, the next Pope, permission to
build a sanctuary over their relics, and a
bishop was appointed for the district. In the
wars and desolation of after-centuries, this
church was ruined, and in the commencement

132 The Victims of the Mamertine,

of the ninth century Paschal the First
brought the relics of the martyrs from the
Catacombs to the churches of Rome. As the
principal attraction was taken away, the
shrine was abandoned ; ten centuries of de-
cay and change had swept all traces of the
church away. Near the ceventh mile there
stood a few solitary masses of brickwork, the
only ruins of the past to be found within
miles of the place, and here antiquarians na-
turally placed the sanctuary and Catacombs
of Alexander, especially as in excavations
made in the place a portion of a cemetery
was really found, and bodies of martyrs were
transf'^rred thence to Rome.'"* However, in
the beginning of the year 1855, some men
were making excavations in the vineyard be-
longing to the Propaganda, and accidentally
discovered a stair leadincr to subterranean
passages. The directors employed by the
Propaganda to proceed with the works per-
ceived as they advanced the spoils oi pagan
monuments promiscuously employed in the
works, and at once concluded they had fallen
on some ancient Christian sanctuary. Nor

* Boldctti, " Sopra i Cimeteri de Santi Martiri," book ii.
ch. 18.

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 133

were they disappointed, for they suddenly
entered the area of what was once a magni-
ficent edifice, columns of granite, mosaic
pavements, an altar of the richest marble,
and inscriptions that left no doubt whatso-
ever they had discovered the long-lost tomb
of Alexander.

The devotion that attracted the Christians
around the tombs of the martyrs seventeen
centuries ago is still fresh and green in the
Church of God. Thousands flocked to this
venerable sanctuary, as a precious memento
of the suffering pioneers of the early Church,
and claimed the tomb of the great Pontiff as
another link in the great archaeological chain
which proves the present church united with
the past. Pius IX. was invited by the Di-
rectors of the Propaganda to visit the shrine,
and on the 1 2th of April the venerable
Pontiff, surrounded by cardinals, bishops, and
some military commanders, then in Rome,
proceeded to the scene of this interesting dis-
covery. Some of the students of the Urban
College were gathered in the vineyard to
meet his Holiness. The procession moved
into the old basilica, which now formed
a beautiful siHit; the rich colors of the

134 The Victims of the Mamertine.

purpled prelates contrasted with the dark
walls of the abandoned church. The holy
father paused at each inscription — the
names of the young and beautiful, who
had fallen early victims to the fell de-
stroyer, and the aged who had fought the
good fight, whose spirits were in peace.
Some of the inscriptions were very touching.
There was the rude slab, the palm and
crown, and near the little phial of blood,
blushing with its crimson treasure. On one
we read, •* Silvina is now with Alexander."
On another, " Appollon, dedicated to God,
died in h's 14th year." Here Pascasius the
deacon sleeps peacefully, there the faithful
Sparinga awaits the angel's trumpet ; another
is swept away : " post . varias . curas . post .

LONGAE . MONIA . VITAE."

Arrived at the centre of the basilica, the
holy father knelt at the foot of the altar
on whose porphyry slab the unbloody sacri-
fice Avas offered to God in the second cen-
tury. The students of the Propaganda were
gathered round, and one of them read in
a clear voice the following invitation in
verse:

Pagans confined in the Mamertine, 135

" Ingredere, Aline Parens, squalcntibus excita saxis,
Herouni Christi, claraque busta vide.
Pastor Alexander, pro Religionis amore
llic moriens, sparsit sanguine membra sua.
Qui, viden ? elapsus coelo palmisque decorus
Ducet inoffenso Te pede per latebras.
Nee mirum ; socios inter concordia regnat;
Tu comitem invisis, obvius alter ad est."

The Holy Father proceeded to the pontifi-
cal chair in the choir, his heart aglow with
the spirit of the place, and, in that aptitude of
word and thought so remarkable in the say-
ings of this saintly Pontiff, he poured forth a
stream of eloquence that melted the hearts
of the happy few that were present — like
the brave and venerable pontiffs of old, who,
in the stormy days of persecution, sat in the
same chair and encouraged their trembling
flocks to feel the warming sun of hope in the
midst of their darkness, to bear their trials
patiendy till the dawn of the eternal peace
that was never clouded. Truly, the Acts of
th^ Martyrs read in the thrilling monograms
on the surrounding tombs, and the memories
of the persecutions that drove life into the
sepulchres of the dead, was a theme full of
emotion for the Pontiff who guided the
storm-tossed but indestructible bark, still

IH' III

if!

136 The Victims of the Mamertine.

floating on the troubled waters of time — a
Pontiff who had just returned from exile, and
who even then felt the cold blast of the
north wind, indicating other storms and more
persecution for the Church. With eyes be-
dewed with tears, with arms stretched to-
wards heaven, he prayed to that God, who
was never invoked in vain from the crypts
of the Catacombs, for courage and strength,
like his martyred predecessors, to guide the
Church in its dark hour of her trial — to
thwart the machinations of the impious, who
were at that moment plotting his ruin in the
capitals of Europe.

Having ordered some of the recesses to
be opened, he kissed, with reverence, the
relics of the martyrs, and returned to the
Church of St. Agnes on the way to the city,
little dreaming of the casualty that awaited
him before the sun would set on that event-
ful day.

As only a few of the students were al-
lowed to meet the Holy Father at the Cata-
combs, it was arranged he should receive the
college in the Monastery of the Canon Regu-
lars attached to the Church of St. Agnes. A
temjDorary throne was erected in one of the

Pagans cofifined ifi the Mamertine, 1 3 7

upper chambers, and here the students were
introduced one by one, the rector of the col-
lege declaring their names and missions. At
length, one hundred and twenty persons
had gathered in the room. Suddenly there
was heard a creak in the beams underneath,
and another moment the floor with its pre-
cious and living weight was precipitated into
the ground apartment — a lumber room, filled
with old casks, chairs, beams, and every
species of rubbage. The confusion for tlie
moment was terrible ; a cloud of dust rose
from the debris that blinded and suffocated.
The Pope, Cardinals, and Bishops, military
commanders, and students of the Propagan-
da, all were huddled together in every vari-
ety of position. Although the fall was nine-
teen feet, no one was seriously injured. Six
students were somewhat wounded, but in six
days all were up and well. The accident is
commemorated by a painting on the walls
of the room where* it happened. The fallen
floor has never been restored, and the room
preserved as a monument of this miraculous
preservation of a number of precious lives.
F'urther discoveries were made at the tomb
ot Alexander^ and, through the exertions of

138 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the Congregation of the Propaganda, a
handsome church has been built on the spot
where the ancient BasiHca stood, consecrated
by the Holy Father. This place may now
suggest some interesting memories in the
eventful life of this great Pontiff.

Could anything more touchingly prove to
us that the spirit of the Church, in reverenc-
ing the tombs of the martyrs, is the same now
as in the days of its infancy ? Around these
holy shrines the Church grew, was multi-
plied and strengthened. Though simple and
rude their structure, they were sacred and
loved. Some frescoes, the work of untutor-
ed hands; wooden crosses, raised at intervals
like landmarks in the sombre regions of the
dead ; some pale lights shedding their rays
on the crowds of the faithful who came to
implore the intercession of the Martyrs be-
fore being martyrs themselves ; some vases
of perfumes and flowers, were the only mag-
nificence found around the first alcars of the
Christians. The Church grew like a night
flower that loves the shade; bat the seed was
sown ; it cast roots secretly, like the acorn
concealed under the surface; the soil, enriched
by the remains of the saints, and moistened

Pagans confined in the Mamertine. 139

by their blood, willingly received it. When
this religion of the populace, as the Roman
governors used to call Christianity, ascended
the throne of the Caesars, and gave its cross
as a standard to the legions, it did not forget
the humble altars at which it had worshipped,
nor the saints and martyrs whom i'. had in-
voked in secrecy and silence in the clays of its
tribulation. Altars and temples of magnifi-
cence sprang up as the expressions of grati-
tude and reverence ; those tombs and shrines
have for the most part been preserved for us
through the wreck, the storms, the ruin of
ages ; but where a martyr's tomb has been
lost, buried in the debris of fallen ruins, and
discovered in our days, it is drawn from its
oblivion, the people flock to it again as in
the centuries of old, the pilgrim kneels at
the renovated altar, the saint is invoked, and
the dread sacrifice of expiation sanctifies
once more the forgotten shrine. Thus the
spirit of the Church is the same to-day as
when Sixtus consecrated the church over the
tomb of Alexander. ■

CHAPTER III.

THE FIRST PERSECUTION.
I.

NE year after the Ascension of our
Blessed Lord a strange scene
'took place on the Pons Sublicius*
at Rome. It was the vigil of the Feast of
the Annunciation. Although Christianity
was scarcely yet heard of in the great city,
its secret, irresistible power had sent before it
the first ripples of a mighty wave that was
one day to sweep over the world, and they
were strangely felt at Rome.

On the bridge there is gathered a troop of
soldiers and a crowd of people. Amidst the
confusion of voices, the screams of women
and children, and the rough orders of the lead-
ers, the soldiers are binding some aged men
and casting them into the Tiber. They are

* No .V called Ponte Rotto.
140

The First Persecution,

141

senators. They have conspired, perhaps,
against the life of the emperor ; they had in-
curred, perhaps, the displeasure of the tyrant,
who, on the same bridge but a few weeks
before, crucified the priests of the temple of
Isis for interfering with his paramour. No less
than the greatest crimes could draw such a
terrible death on the venerable fathers of the
country. It was not so. Their awful faith was
strongly wrapt up in the realization of pro-
phecies they knew not ; they denied the di-
vinity of Jesus Christ, and were flung into
the Tiber by the orders of Tiberius. Chris-
tian reader, bear with us for a moment. We
will interest you with a strange traditioii,
that has floated down to us from the first
days of the Church.

Tiberius was a tyrant. Morose, melan-
choly, vindictive, an unguarded word or an
incautious look might be suflicient cause for
death in those days when the greatest
wretches were permitted to wield the most
absolute power. It is said this tyrant was
affected with a loathsome leprosy, which had
already consumed his extremities, disfiguring
his hands and feet ; hence, he sought lonely
places, abandoned the court to pampered

142 The Victims of the Mamertine,

menials, and buried himself in the seclusion
of Caprera and Misenum.

About the eighteenth year of his reign, he
heard of the wonderful works of our Jesus of
Nazareth. The fame of the amiable Prophet
of Galilee had floated on a thousand zephyrs
with the consolations he spread in his track
— giving light to the sightless eye, power
to the paralyzed limb, and joy poured into
desolate homes by departed spirits called
back to life ; demons banished and forbid-
den to mblest the children of men ; cures,
blessings, and peace distributed to all who
came under the beam of his smile, marvel-
lously and instantaneously. • •'

Hope cheered the emperor's heart, and am-
bassadors were despatched immediately to
Judea to bring the Great Prophet to his im-
perial presence. They arrived in Jerusalem ;
but late ; Calvary had witnessed the Dei-
cide ; and the clouds of heaven had already
shrouded him from his weeping people, who
had seen the Word Incarnate float away
from Olivet into the realms of peace. Dur-
ing their stay they saw the impress of his
venerable features on the towel of Veronica.
They wished to bring the extraordinary

The First Persecution.

relic to their master, but more precious than •
gold was the treasure of the pious matron.
Through force and fear she was obliged to
accompany the ambassadors to Rome, bring-
ing her treasure in a double case.*

Veronica was presented to Tiberius, who
took into his hands the touching, sorrowful
image of the Man of Sorrows. In deep si-
lence he gazed on the divine countenance;
shadows of sympathy passed over the iron
features of the emperor. There were the
bloody stains and the cruel, thorny crown,
the weeping eyes, the calm expression of re-
signation, and the ineffable sweetness that
made Jesus so loved. With a suppressed
sigh he handed the holy face to the kneeling
Veronica; he bade her keep her treasure,
and assigned her a pension for life.f

A few days after this event, Tiberius sum-
moned the Senate to meet him in the Forum.
Six hundred of the learned and wealthy men

* One of the cases in which Veronica placed the holy towel
is still preserved, and was lately amongst the relics of the Pan-
theon at Rome.

f Piazza, " Emerologio Sacro," page 190. It is also said by
some that Tiberius was cured on this occasion, but the asser-
tion does not seom to have sufficient authenticity. The Holy
Face or Towel of Veronica is still preserved in St. Peter's in
Rome.

144 The Victims of the Mamertine,

•of the empire poured in from their marble
palaces in the city or from their elysian vil-
las on the Sabine or Alba Longa hills — men
whose brows were whitened with the snows
of many winters, who had learned the art of
war and passe,, through the hardships of
campaign, whose ancestors were heroes
placed amongst the minor gods of the em-
pire; who had passed through the stormy
days of the triumvirate, heard the eloquence
of Cicero, and had seen the blood of Caesar
flow under tthe statue of Pompey. The cita-
tion of the Senate was always an important
event, but more so when the emperor hint-
self announced his intention to meet the con-
script fathers in council. Innumerable con-
jectures were afloat why the emperor, con-
trary to his usual retirement, came forth
again from his privacy in his old age to
meet the Senate in person in the arena of
politics; None but God and his blessed
spirits knew what was coming; he permitted
it in his providence. -

The appointed morning arrived. Tiberius
stood before the august assembly; he unrolls
a gilded parchment, and reads : The Passion
OF OUR Lord Jesus Christ !

The First Persecutton.

You start ! It was not the sublipie inspi-
rations left us by Matthew or John : it was
the crucifixion and death, the resurrection
and miracles of Jesus of Nazareth^ as were
recorded by Pontius Pilate, his Procurator at
Judea. Tiberius asked the Senate to place
him amongst their gods, for, according to an
old law of the empire, they alone had the
power of conferring divine honors on the dead.

We tremble in awe in contemplating the
mysterious forbearance of the eternal Son of
the eternal God, who allows his creatures to
class him with the impure and ridiculous
fabrications that constituted the gods of pa-
ganism ; but he is a patient God, who at
times reserves his own terrible vindication
for the days and regions beyond the tomb.

We may not tarry over the absurdities or
blasphemies that even great men speak when
blinded with prejudice. The Senate almost
unanimously rejected the divinity of Jesus of
Nazareth ; but those who had the hardihood
to speak out their minds against the wish of
the emperor were the next day precipitated
from the parapets of the Sublician Bridge,
and found their graves in the muddy bed of
the Tiber.

146 The Victims of the Mamertine.

The wretched emperor had not the cour-
age to follow up his intention of honoring the
Galilean God. He retired sullenly to Mi-
senum, and was shortly afterwards smothered
between two beds by orders of Caligula.

The reasons given by the Senate for not
accepting the divinity of Jesus Christ have
been preserved for us by several historians,
and are in keeping with the pride that made
them fancy they could make gods..

1. They would not recognize' him as a
god, for some of the subjects of the empire
had dared to invoke him without their per-
mission.

2. He was a divinity that wished to be
alone, and would not keep fellowship with
their gods.

3. It was unbecoming the dignity of that
august assembly to recognize as a god a man
who was put to death as a malefactor in one
of the provinces.

It is said history repeats itself. There is a
striking analogy in the decision of the Roman
Senate and the decisions of some of the mod-
ern parliaments of Europe. It has been
asked in the Senates of London, Berlin, and
Turin, Will we accept the law of this God as

The First Persecution.

147

our rule and guidance ? The answer is No !
with a large majority. And why ?

1. Because his followers appoint their
bishpps and preach his doctrines without ask-
ing our permission.

2. He is a jealous God, and will not allow
his followers to have fellowship with those
who deny his divinity or mutilate his doctrine.

3. His law is one of suffering, humiliation,
and penance. , These do not become rich and
powerful men !

Were we to anticipate a page of history, we
would record a scene of desolation and woe
often enacted in the vicissitudes of the past.
Without the aid of prophetic vision we can
transfer to the canvas of time pictures of
ruin wrapped up in the clouds of the future.

Once there was a chosen spot on the
banks of the Tiber where Fortune alighted
from her slippery globe ; wealth, power, and
magnificence gilded the shrine of her tempo-
rary abode ; the laws of its capitol and sen-
ate thundered with terror to distant nations ;
in the pride of power, in the voluntary blind-
ness of idolatry, they ignored the true God.
The breath of his indignation swept over the
city, and ruin crumbled on ruin tells us that

148 The Victims of the Mamertine,

there a nation once existed that dared to
meditate vain things against the Omnipotent.
Broken columns, fragments of mosaic pave-
ment ; the supports of a portico encrusted
with marble, or the apsis of a temple cov-
ered with gold, tells passing generations
where once assembled the haughty Senate
of the empress city.

To-day laborers are employed to remove
the soil that has accumulated twenty feet
deep and lain for centuries over the spot
where the Senate refused to accept Jesus of
Nazareth as their God.*

We have heard of fabulous islands that
have sometimes appeared on the blue rim
•of the ocean in the .track the mariner has
passed; thus nations that opposed the de-
crees of Providence appear in the past as if
they never had been — the few mouldering
evidences of their fall, like lurid clouds that
hang around the setting sun when the storm
has ceased, haunt the memory with the vio-
lence and intensity of their ruin.

The Church they persecuted, still young in
the eternal youth of her Founder, smiling in

• A.D. 1874.

The First Persecution,

149

the confidence of her triumph, is still buffet-
ed by the shock of angry billows ever rolling
through the restless ocean of time ; still suf-
fering the persecution of the worthless off-
spring of forgotten generations, who like their
fathers refuse to learn the lesson thundered
from the history of centuries.

II.

Amongst the chastisements that have fall-
en heavy on man there are few greater than
the protracted reign of tyrants. When these
wretches have been hurled from their thrones
and flung into dishonored graves by the sedi-
tion of an outraged nation, loud and long
rises the grateful shout to heaven from the
liberated victims of oppression. " The tyrant
is dead ! " rings from city to hamlet, and seeks
with joyful echo the trembling refugee in
seclusion and exile. But when death does
not stay the power to do evil, when from
their tombs they are still permitted to molest
the human race, we behold in their existence
a curse like that of the demon permitted by
an angry God for the punishment of man.
History gives us a thrilling instance.

•JIKT'

150 Th. Victims of the Mamertine, 1

Long, before Michael Angelo designed the
superb entrance into Rome by the Flaminian
Gate, long before the lovely parterres and
artistic terraces of the Pincian replaced a
grass-covered lull where children played and
lambkins gambolled, and instead of broad
avenues the hill was ascended by a foot-path,
there was on the left of the ancient gate a
large nut-tree, which stood in the midst of an
enclosure held in horror by the people. At
night the deserted plain rang with unearth-^
ly pcunds, ^nd horrible phantoms revelled
around the solitary tree ; the spirits assumed
the most hideous forms, and especially like
large, ugly ravens that spoke with a human
voice. For centuries this haunted spot was
the terror of the people. Many a thrilling,
hair- standing tale was handed down from
fathers to their children, and told around the
firesides of the Roman people, of ghosts and
frightful apparitions that infested the enclo-
sure of the cursed nut-tree. Even corporal
injuries were inflicted on those who, through
curiosity or bravery, attempted to enter.
Things were thus until Pope Paschal U., in
the year 1099, believing much of the horrors
of the place sprang from excited iriiagination

The First Persecution.

^5X

or fancy, levelled the enclosure, and reduced
it to the same appearance as the plain around.
But the annoyance became worse. It would
seem the spirits of evil rejoiced in a larger
field of operation, and laughed at the Pope
who thought to banish them. The holy Pope
was surprised and puzzled. He fasted, and
prayed that God would make known to him
the cause of this sfrange annoyance. At
length God vouchsafed him a dream. He
saw amidst a blue light, in the Centre of the
haunted spot, a number of devils dancing
around an urn such as was used to contain
the ashes of the dead in the time of the em-
perors. He immediately understood the
cause of those nocturnal disturbances, and the
next 'day, accompanied by some Roman cler-
gy, proceeded with workmen to dig in the
place intimated in his dream. Having sunk a
few feet, they arrived at the columbarium of
an old tomb ; they broke away the walls, and
found in the midst of the rubbish a large
porphyry urn, bearing on it in bold charac-
ters the following inscription : *

* Martinelli, Roma Ricercata in suo Situ; also Gruter, page
237, No. 3.

152 The Victims of the Mamertine.

OSSA

1 1

NERONIS Ci^SARIS

GERMANICl C/E.S. F.

DIVI ATTGUSTI PRONEP.

FLAVII AUGUSTALIS QU^STORIS.

The groan that greeted th!s discovery
passed through the city ; thousands flocked
around to see the hated relic. With ropes
and sticks, each fearing to touch it, amidst a
crowd, fortifying themselves with the sign of
the cross, they dragged the accursed urn
towards the Tiber. On the banks it broke
to fragments, and the ashes were scattered on
the muddy waters, to be carried to the ocean,
where the demons that protected them might
haunt the wild waste of waters away from
the abodes of men. The city, at last was
freed from the curse, and on the spot, so ter-
rible, so feared by the passing generations,
the sainted Pope, erected a magnificent shrine,
which he dedicated to the Peoples Virgin — a
happy change, attracting love and veneration
to that which was the people's horror.*

* The church received the title oi Mixdonna del Popolo^ because
built by subscriptions of tlie people. This strange origin of
this beautiful church is given on a slab of marble in the choir
behind tl<c altar. It runs thus: • <•

-N -

The First Perseculian.

153

Behold the ashes and the accompany-
ing spirit of the first persecutor of Christi-
ariity — the tyrant who, four years after the
Senate refused to acknowledge the divinity
of Jesus of Nazareth, stepped over the corpse
of his mother's victim to seize the reins of
empire and drive it to a slaughter-house
of woe. Yet, on his accession, hope gave a
deceitful smile ; the world thought it had
reason to rejoice. Young, in the bloom of
manhood and the promise of virtue, he was
hailed to the throne by the acclamations of a
people who soon learned to rue their choice.
]£re the pride of power and the indulgence of

ALTARE A PASCHALI PAPA 11.
DIVINO AFFLATU
RITU SOLEMNI HOC LOCO ERECTUM

QUO DEMONES

PROCER^E NUCIS ARBORI INSIDENTES

TRANSEUNTEM HINC POPULUM DIVE INFESTANTES

CONFESTIM EXPULIT.

URBANI VIII. PONT. MAX. AUCTORITATE

EXCELSIOREM IN LOCUM QUEM CONSPICIS

TRANSLATUM FUIT

ANNO DOM. M.DCXXXII. DIE VI M.

This fact is also mentioned by Panciroli, Piazza, Martinelli,
Msirangoni, Jacopi, Baronius, and a host of others. The writer
i.i Murray's Guide mentions it (page 162), but it is amusing to
notice how other Protestant writers fumble c or it. Augustus
Hare (" Walks in Rome ") says some crows used to light on the
nut-tree, and Paschal II. dreamt thay were demons !

154 The Victims of the Mamertine»

passion had blasted the impress of nature on
a generous spirit, pity reigned in the heart
of Nero. When called to sign his first death-
warrant, he cried out : " Would I had never
learned to write I "

Oft has the bright morning seen a tem-
pestuous evening. Oft has the noblest youth
ended in the deepest depravity. There are
parts of the world where the land is lower
than the sea, and the mighty element breaks
through its boundaries and sweeps over the
cultivated lands, bearing desolation and woe ;
but so deep, so terrible was the sea of impiety
that burst over the youth and virtue of this
emperor that one historian tells us he was
sent on the world to show us how much ini-
quity could exist in one man ! Everything
cruel, revolting, and wicked found in the
after-history of the world is supposed to be
described in the superlative when compared
to its prototype in Nero. -•

Once in the tender compassion of youth
that shuddered at the thought of bloodshed,
he sighed over the merited death of a fel-
low-creature ; the same man afterward, in
an unparalleled longing for blood, sighed
that the Roman people had not but

The First Persecution,

155

one head that he • might slay them all
at once.

There are few so depraved not to yield
to even one noble sentiment of nature ; not
to recognize some stray feeling of affection
for an aged mother or kind sister. Few-
have been the tyrants, the monsters, who
could look without a shudder on the tender
frame of girlhood writhing in agony in a
pool of blood, and fewer still who have seen
live victims cast into a burning furnace and
call with brutal joy for a repetition of these
thrilling horrors; yet deeper in infamy and
more revolting in cruelty — as though • he
were the centre of a host of demons of
cruelty — ^was the person of this demon, who
was permitted by Providence to be not only
the persecutor of his Church, but the scourge
of the human race.

Nero commenced his bloodthirsty career
by the murder of Britannicus, whos6
right to the throne was his only crime.
It happened during the Saturnalia, when
all distinctions are levelled, it fell to Nero,
as they were playing forfeits after sup-
per, to award the various modes of ran-
som. Accordingly, he enjoined to each of

156 The Viclims of the Mamertine.

the others some pleasantry, but nothing hu-
miliadng, until it came to the turn of Britan-
nicus. The young prince was rudely order-
ed to rise from his couch and to recite some
verses, standing in the middle of the banquet-
hall , for his persecutor thus hoped to exhibit
him as a blockhead, to the jeers and derision
of the revellers. But, unabashed by his po--
sition, the royal youth commenced, in a clear
and steady voice, to recite some verses about
one who, in his boyhood, was pushed from*
his throne and degraded to the lank of a
poor subject. The allegory could not be
mistaken, and the sympathy for the prince
excited in the hearers was enough to rouse
the suspicions of the tyrant, and this they
give (Tacitus) as the first cause that made
him resolve on commencing at once hie long-
premeditated career of bloodshed.

A few days after a dose of poison was ad-
ministered to Britannicus. In the midst of
the triclinium and before the assembled
guests the fatal draught was given. The
cup-bearer, who, according to prescriptive
rite, was to taste beforehand whatever beve-
rage he presented, having been apprised
beforehand, contrived to manage his office so

The First Persecution.

157

adroitly as to receive no injury ; but Britan-
nicus, finding the draught cooling, emptied
his glass with thirsting eagerness; so instan-
taneous did the fatal virus do its work, that,
in one agonizing but abortive effort to cry
for help, he gasped, quivered in every limb
of his fair frame, and fell dead.

The courtiers and attendants are thrown
into consternation ; the old familiars, long
initiated into the intrigues of the court and
aware of the plot, show no signs of surprise ;
nor did the heartless Nero move a muscle ;
with an inhuman smile he remarked it was
but one of the. prince's epileptic fits; he
would be better when brought to the air. Ag-
rippina, his mother, was present ; a sudden
terror, that flashed from under the cool sere-
nity beneath which she had long learned to
entomb her most hideous passions, betrayed
that she was as ignorant of the affair as poor
Octavia, the prince's sister, from whose vir-
gin cheek the hue of candor had been blast-
ed by that atmosphere of dissimulation and
enormity of the court, which had rotted every
feeling of tenderness and sisterly affection in
her dreary heart. After a moment's pause
the mirth and gayety of the banquet was re-

158 The Victims of the Mamertine,

sumed, and, waxed louder and more boiste-
rous.

The fire that consumed the corpse of Bri-
tannicus glared out upon th^ dark hour of his
murder; for, while this poor victim was being
escorted to the triclinium and attended at
the banquet with obsequious ceremonial, they
wero constructing his funeral pile and mus-
tering the satellites who were to transport
his injured ashes to the tomb. However, they
were to repose amongst the urns of his
mighty ancestors on the Campus Martius,
and such torrents of rain fell during the hur-
ried and tt-uncated rites that the populace
took it for a sign of divine indignation.* .

" Abyssus abyssum invocat." You have
heard, perhaps, the loud echo of cannon roll-
ing through the ravines of mountains, leap-
ing from crag to crag, and seeming to in-
crease like thunder from each concussion.
Thus the unchained passions of Nero rushed
on to greater excesses : his own mother is
his next victim.

In doubt whether the cup, the dagger, or
the firebrand should be the instrument of
his hate, he consulted Anicetus, the com-

* " Rome as She Was," vol. i. • -

"Xii-

The First Persecution.

159

his

mander of the fleet at Misenum, whose heart
was as dark as the tyrant who gave him
power. Having been a slave, he had some old
accounts to settle with his imperial mistress,
and the prospect of revenge made him a
ready counsellor. " A state galley," he said,
" could be so constructed as to go to pieces
at a given signal ; the sea is the native
element of accidents, and where is the
traitor that shall dare harbor a suspicion
against Caesar whilst the winds and waves
can be impeached? Temples and votive
altars to the deceased empress will not only
stifle any sinister report, but add to the
otlier imperial titles that of filial piety." *

The ingenious villany caught the matri-
cide's fancy. The" time, too, was propitious, for
Nero was then engaged 'n celebrating the
four-year games at Baise. Agrtppina was
absent from the court through some pique,
and they determined to bring her back.
The tyrant feigned repentance : the sacri-
fice which a son is bound to make to soothe

* " Nihil tam capax fortuitorum quam mare, et, si naufragio
intercepta sit, quem, adeo iniquum, ut sceleri assignet quod
venti et fluctus deliquirint? Additurum principem defuncta
templum et aras et csetera ostentandae pietati. Placuit sollertia,"
itc. — Tacitus^ lib. xlv. 3. ' ♦

1 60 The Victims of the Mamertine, ,

the displeasure and the momentary impulses
of anger, and other duteous and aniiable re-
flections, were got up Vo pretend the repen- ^
tance of the refractory son. Agrippina was
once more invited to the imperial cortege ;
in that i)assion for sights and pageantry so
natural in the sex the decoy succeeded, and
she was allured to her fate. With the well-
feigned impatience of filial fondness Nero
expected her arrival on the shore at Cuma,
and when they met the tenderness of his em-
brace and the warm pressure of his hand con-
vinced the unhappy mother that, after all, he ^
loved her. Could guilt be greater than this
matricidal hypocrisy?

From Cuma the joyful party proceeded
to the imperial villa at the other verge of the
neck of land (ad Baulos) looking out over
the Bay of Naples ; but it had been precon-
certed that the imperial banquet should take
place in the palace at Baiae, that the deed of
murder might be accomplished under the
cloak of darkness, when she would be return-
ing to her own villa on the Lucrine Lake.
One stately barge looked more gay than the
rest in its gala decorations, and seemed to
invite the empress, who was fond of

The First Persecution,

i6i

being rowed in a gallant style, to step on
board.

The hour of separation came ; but Nero
was not satisfied with embracing his mother
once, but he flies after her through the bril-
liant saloons and corridors to repeat his
adieus ; he seems to cling to her bosom, and
can hardly tear himself away — whether it was
that these were the finishing strokes of a
master in the arts of dissimulation or that
the last sight of her who bore him, as she
was on her way to death, exercised some
mysterious influence even over his savage
nature."'*

The heavens shone, with the placid lustre
of the stars that were reflected in the tran-
quil deep ; all nature was at peace, and it
would seem the gods had ordered every-
thing to discountenance and expose the plot.
Agrippina was accompanied by only two
of her own attendants. Caprereius Gallus

*"Nam pluribus sermonibus, modo familiaritate juvcnili,
Nero, et rursus adductus, quasi seria consociaret, tracto in
longutn convictu, prosequitur abeuntem arctius ocuiis et
pectori hferens, sive explenda simulatione seu periturse inatris
suprcmus adspectus quamvis ferum animum retinebat."—
Tccitus, lib. xiv. 4.

f " Noctem siderlbus illustrem et placido mari quietam quasi
convincendum ad scelus dii praebuere." — lb, cap. 5.

1 62 The Victims of the Mamertine,

stood in waiting near the stern, and at the
feet of her imperial mistress, recHning under
a stately canopy, sat Acerronia, prattling
with all the delight imaginable about the
emperor's change, ascendency at court re-
gained, when, at the appointed signal, down
comes the deck, overlaid with an immense
weight of lead, and Caprereius is instantly
crushed to death. Agrippina and her attend-
ant owed their lives to the accident by which
the pillars of the canopy had been left of
sufficient str;ength not to give way under
the crash ; nor did the barge, as was intend-
ed, go to pieces ; the crew having fallen into
such confusion that the efforts of the accom-
plices were frustrated by the majority who
were not privy to the design. There seemed
nothing for it then but to overturn the boat
by all running to one side; but, this extem-
pore manoeuvre being ill executed and some
of the galliots running to the opposite side,
the empress and her attendant were precipi-
tated without violence into the water. The
silly lady Acerronia was quickly despatched
with oars or whatever came to hand, for,
thinking to secure assistance, she kept crying
" I am Agrippina ! help, help the mother of

The First Persecution,

163

the emperor ! " But Agrippina uttered not
a word, thus fortuitously evading recognition.
She got one wound on the shoulder. By
swimming, however, and afterwards in a fish-
ing-boat that picked her up, she made her
way to the Lucrine Lake, and was carried to
her own villa.

When she had leisure to reflect on the
whole tissue of occurrences, the motive of so
many flattering invitations to come down to
Baiae, of so many caresses and marks of honor
heaped upon her, became too obvious. Ship-
wrecked ! not by a gale or by striking on
hidden rocks, but in smooth water, and the
deck falling down like a portcullis ! She
weighed every incident connected with the
death of Acerronia ; absorbed in thought, she
remembered the strange warning of the
sibyl, and, looking on the blood trickling
from her wound, she resolved to have re-
venge, but in order to circumvent the traitor
she dissembled all suspicion of his treachery.
Accordingly, she despatched her freedman
Agerinus to apprise Nero that, through the
benignity of the gods, she had escaped a
serious accident, and begged he would not
be alarmed about her safety.

I $4 The Victims of the Mamertine.

In the meantime, the news of the failure
reached Nero, and, worse still, that suspicion
had begun to settle in the right quarter. He
almost fell dead with fear, and, shaking from
head to foot, began to swear that his mother
would be swift as a tigress to revenge.
•' She'll arm the slaves, stir up the troops to
mutiny ; or, off to Rome with her tragic tale
of shipwreck, her attendants massacred, her
own wound, she'll so work on the Senate and
the people ! What shall become of me ? "
He summoned Burrus and Seneca in haste
to advise something. ,

Their conference was short. Burrus as-
sured the emperor there was not a man in the
pretorian camp would undertake the murder
of the daughter of Germanicus, whom they
adored, and Seneca suggested that Anicetus
should be made to complete the work he had
undertaken and so egregiously failed in.
Anicetus was ready, but wished to know how
much he was to get. Nero, as if beside him-
self, protests that he will consider himself
indebted to his faithful, trusty Anicetus for
his empire, but to hasten and select men of
despatch. At this moment, the messen^T^er
Agerinus from Agrippina was announced.

The First Persecution.

165

Nero, on the instant, and without a hint from
any one, extemporizes another act of the
tragedy. Dropping a stiletto between the
freedman's feet while he is delivering his
message, he cries out to the guards, ordering
the wretch to be manacled, as if seized in an
attempt on the prince's life — a villain sent by
Agrippinaj who, no doubt, would put an end
to herself on learning the miscarriage of
her treason.

' Anicetus surrounded the villa with a
strong guard, and, having battered in the
gates, seized every domestic he met lest they
should give the alarm. Arrived in the ante-
chamber, he found a few officers of the
household at their post, all the rest having
fled on hearing the tumult in the outer
courts. One solitary lamp cast a dim and
melancholy gleam around the closet of Ag-
rippina, and one solitary handmaid watched
beside her bed. The moments of suspense
lagged drearily, and each added to the load
of anxiety that pressed heavily on her heart
— no messenger from her son — no sign
of Agerinus. Suddenly she heard heavy
strokes, followed by a crash and tumult, con-
fused at first and presendy in the ante-room,

1 66 The Victims of the Manvertine^

the sound of flying feet and harsh struggles
against her very chamber door. As she
turned to rebuke her handmaid gliding
away, she saw Anicetus standing before
her, followed immediately by Herculeus,
captain of a three-benched galley, and a
centurion of marines named Oloarites. ^

"If to enquire for my health,- sir, say
to your emperor that my wound is doing
well. If bent on outrage, presume not to
say that you have orders. I will not believe
my son is a matricide." But Herculeus and
Oloarites were waiting the signal on either
side of the couch. The galley captain
struck first — a grievous stroke on the head
with a club, and, while the centurion was
brandishing his weapon, she raised her
body, crying with her dying breath, "Ven-
trem feri" (meaning that vengeance had
lighted on the womb that had borne such a
monster).*

The next victim from his own house-
hold was the young and beautiful Octa-
via, whose sad fate may justly cause a sigh.

* All the above facts of Britannicus and Agrippina are taken
from a free translation of Tacitus, and are quoted from " Rome
under Paganism and the Popes."

The First Persecution,

167

We will not tarry over the harrowing par-
ticulars of her sad death. The thrilling
tale may be told in a few words. She
was betrothed to Nero, but not his spouse.
He wished to get rid of her to marry the
infamous Poppea; "a lady," says Tacitus,
" adorned with every charm except virtue." *

Once more he procured the assistance of
the vile Anicetus, who swore he was a para-
mour of the innocent Octavia. It was enough;
her doom was sealed. She was yet in her
" teens " (about eighteen at the time of her
death), but had seen many a dark hour of
grief. In crossing the bridal threshold of
the imperial palace she entered a house of
mourning. Her father, Claudius, was swept
away by poison, then her brother Britanni-
cus, and now she is put aside for her own
handmaid, and, bitterest of all, worse than a
thousand deaths, her honor branded.

In the hands of a brutal and licentious
soldiery the forlorn Octavia seemed to cling
to life. Although terrified almost to death
by the doom which she anticipated, the poor
young creature could not make up her

* " Huic mulieri cuncta alia fuere praeter honestem animum ."
-Lib.xiii. 35- ..

"■•■"-*^ -'**'T^'^T fi' fl

1 68 The Victims of the Mamertine,

mind to die. After a few days' delay, see-
ing- she would not put an end to her-
self, the order came for her execution.
Loudly proclaiming her innocence, and de-
claring to the gods that, although maligned,
she was still a -/irgin,* invoking the shades
of her murdered kindred and even Agrippi-
na's lurid ghost for help. Regardless of her
shrieks, they bind her limbs with fetters
and open all her veins at once. As terror
congealed her blood so that it would not
flow, she \^as suffocated in a vapor bath.
The severed head was borne, as in tri-
umph, to the presence of the monster,
when Poppea contemplated the traces of
her rival's agony with complacency, f

Yet the depraved Senate decreed thanks-
givings to the gods for these murders.
The pagan historian blushes for the fallen
manhood of his day. "This fact," he says,
"we mention that whoever seeks acquain-
tance with those times, either through our
writings or any other history, may suppose
that thanksgivings to the gods are voted by

*" Et tantum sororem testaretur."— xiv. 64.
f Poppea herself afterwards met a terrible death, the mon-
ster having kicked her Avhilsl enceinte.

The First Persecution.

169

the conscript fathers, with the applause of
the Roman people, as often as exiles and
atrocious murders are prescribed by the
prince; for public and shameful disasters
the same rejoicings take place as of old
for great enterprises crowned with suc-
cess. *

These as the words of the pagan who
called Christianity a calamity ; and said that
Nero wished to exterminate it, because the
Christians were odious to mankind on ac-
count of their crimes ! ** O tempora ! O
mores 1 " .

We have quoted a dark page from the
pagan historian of the past: in no other
way could we better express the character
of the first persecutor of the Church.
The wretch that commences his career by
trampling on the sacred ties of the do-
mestic circle — who steeps his hands in the
blood, and haunts his fireside with the
shades of a murdered mother, wife, and re-

* "Dona ob hsec templis decreta. Quod ad eum finem me-
moravimus ut quicunque casus temporum illorum nobis vel
aliis auctoribus noscent prsesumptum habeant quotiens fugas
etcsedesjussit princeps totiens grates deis actas; quxquererum
Becundarum olim, turn publicae cladis insignia fuisse."— xiv,
64.

'f^^

1 70 The Victims of the Alamertitte,

lative, is a tyrant indeed. What could the
outer world, what could the poor Chris-
tians expect from such a monster ? Nothing
less than smoking ruins of their homesteads,
and the stream of blood that at one time was
twelve inches deep in his garden — now the
Piazza of St. Peter's ! *

III.

Those scenes, of tortures that make us
shudder in the very thought, were stretched
out like a map, far away in the deep womb
of eternity, and selected in the inscrutable
wisdom of Providence, as the designs of a
building are accepted by an architect.

Here is the great and real cause of the
persecutions of the Church : they were des-
tined by God for his greater glory, and
happy the children of men in whom were
fulfilled the decrees of Divine Providence !
We would wish to stop here and hang in
silence over the inscrutable ways of God ;
but as he has allowed his own decrees to find
their effect in the secondary causes of crea-

♦ Clavis, " Chron.," an. 54.

The First Persecution.

171

I the
;hris-
thing
leads,
e was
w the

k^e us

itched
womb
utable
s of a

V ■"

•

bf the

des-

and

were

lence !

ing in

God;

to find

crea-

tion, we must, in giving a brief historical
sketch of the first persecution, give a few in-
teresting glances at incidents that were the
immediate cause of events that rank next
in importance to the historical mysteries of
Calvary — events that deluged Rome with
blood, gave the Mamertine its first Christian
victims, and heaven its galaxy of triumph.

May we not justly, with some of the
fathers, attribute the persecution of the
Christians to the innate wickedness ?.nd na-
tural diabolical cruelty of the world personi-
fied in its rulers? Sulpicius Severnus and
Orosius, both priests and historians of the
fifth century, tell us, even if the world had
not clamored for the extermination of Chris-
tianity, Nero would have attempted it on his
own account.

Hear Tertullian : " Whilst Nero ruled,
Peter came to Rome, and, having performed
wonderful miracles by the power given to
him from God, he converted many to justice,
and established for God a faithful and firm
Church ; which being announced to Nero>
and he himself seeing that not only in Rome,
but everywhere and daily, an immense num-
ber fell away from the worship of the idols,

172 The Victims of the Mamertine.

passing over to the new "religion and con-
demning the old, as he was an execrable and
hated tyrant, he hastened to destroy the
celestial temple and sweep away all justice
from the fare of ht earth." *

But ihdt V. hic; was the last and immedi-
ate cause cf il\e persecution of the Church
of God was the fiietrand cast by Nero
into the city. In the annals of the world,
in the year 66 of our Lord, we read on the
same page of history, Rome was burnt and
Christianity was "persecuted.

Cruelty and pride s\ ggested the thought:
a house of gold, and a city called after his
own name, built on the i hes of Rome. As
far as human depravity could carry out the
suggestion, Nero was gratified in his house
of gold, purchased by one of the most de-
structive conflagrations on record, and by the.
poverty and groans of thousands of his sub-
jects. He gathered around him the miserable
satellites of his cruelties and debaucheries,
and at midnight, when all were silent and
wrapped in sleep, inflammable brands were
flung into a guard of the pretorians, near the

♦ *' In Apol.," cap. 5.

The First Persecution.

^73

ght:
r his
As
the
use
clo-
the,
ub-
able
*ies,
and
rare
the

spot where now stands the arch of Constan-
tino^. The quarter Loounded in taverns and
stores, and sorn the devouring flames as-
suir^d ^'.leir irresistible sway ; along the Cir-
cus Maximus it sweeps from goal to goal with
the rapidity of the wind; from the lower
ground the wide-wasting element mount'^ Hie '
heights, and again rushes down over the i-
terjacent valleys with a swiftness not tc o^ re-
tarded by human efforts. The charactt cf
the old city — a labyrinth of tortuous ' d -.ar-
row streets,' encumbered with enormous piles
of buildinof that swarmed with inhabitants to
the very tiles, contributed to accelerate the
catastrophe and augment its horrors. Add
to this, the terror shrieks of women, the
touching spectacle of languid age and feeble
childhood making abortive efforts to escape ;
some, deaf to the cries of nature and of
duty, think only to save themselves, others
risking life' and all to save those they love.
Midst the ruin of tumbling edifices that came
down upon them like avalanches of fire, the
fugitives are crushed with the sick and help-
less they are dragging away on litters or on
their shoulders ; some linger in distraction
about their flaming dwellings, and, impeding

1 74 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the flight of others, contribute to heighten
the confusion. As to endeavors to check
the conflagration there were none, for des-
perate gangs, denouncing such an attempt,
roamed through the burning city in all
directions, and tossed flaming brands to
spread the fire, vociferating they knew on
what authority they acted.*

The '^'onuments of Grecian art and of
Roman power, the tiophies of the Punic and
Gallic wars, temples and splendid palaces,
were involved in one common destruction.
Of the fourteen regions or quarters into which
Rome was divided only four escaped entire ;
three were levelled with the ground; the re-
maining seven which had experienced the
fury of the flames displayed a melancholy
scene of ruin and desolation. The splendid
mansions of the Palatine, the Aventine, the
Celian, and part of the Quirinal were reduced
to unsightly masses of smoking ruins, whilst
the relentless tyrant viewed the conflagration
with delight from a tower on the Esquiline,

* " Nee quisquam defendere audebat crcbris raultorum minis
restinguere prohibentiiim et quia alii palam faces jaciebant, at-
que esse sibl auctorem vociferabantur ; sive ut raptiis licentius
exercerent scu jussu." — Tacitus^ "An.," cap. 38, lib. 15.

The First Persecution.

175

line,

singing", to the accompaniment of a lyre,
Lucan's verses on the burning of Tro}^

The sycophants who had welcomed Nero
with unbounded acclamation when he return-
ed from the murder of his mother, and were
ready to deify him f^r atrocities of which
others were the victims, conceived different
sentiments when the effects of his destructive;
caprice came home to themselves. The tyrant
was alarmed at public indignation ; neither
treasures squandered amongst the multitude,
nor the magnificence of the new city which
he built, nor the wiles of superstition could
beguile or blind the public resentment or
acquit him for having burnt Rome. He would
have been torn to pieces had he not adopted a
stratagem to avert the fury of public indigna-
tion and direct it in another channel.

The Christians were at this time numerous
in Rome. The followers of the Cross from
the days the world crucified Jesus were
hated, accused of every crime, and called ene-
mies of the state. Nero knew the popular
feeling against them. He seized the moment
to vent the bitterness of his own heart, and
give the people a food for their revenge.
He accused the Christians of having burnt

1 76 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Rome. He paid wretches to acknowledge
their guilt and swear they were accomplices ;
and thus commenced the dreadful carnage of
the unoffending followers of the Crucified —
the first and most terrible storm that passed
over the Church since the death of Christ —
the first ripe field gathered into the eternal
harvest : a persecution that stained Rome
with blood and filled heaven with joy, throng-
ing the peerless galaxy of heroes who follow
the Lamb with the crimson stole of martyr-
dom.

" With this view," writes Tacitus, the pagan
slanderer of the Christians (to escape the
consequences of his manifest guilt), "he in-
flicted the most exquisite tortures upon a herd
of wretches who, under the vulgar appellation
of Christians, had already become objects of
execration by reason of their flagitious prac-
tices. They derived their name and origin
from Christ, who in the reign of Tiberius had
suffered death by the sentence of the Procu-
rator Pontius Pilate. Suppressed by this vig-
orous step, the baleful superstition burst forth
again, spreading itself not- only over Judea,
the cradle of the calamity, but through Rome,
the cesspool into which are discharged the

The First Persecution,

177

villanies of the whole world, and where every
form of superstition, no matter how profli-
gate, can celebrate its mysteries with im-
punity. Having seized on some miscreants
who confessed themselves to be accomplices
of the Christians, on their information an
immense multitude {ingens mtillitudo) were
convicted, not indeed so much for having set
fire to the city, but for being enemies of the
human race. They were put to the most
cruel deaths ; their torments were embittered
by derision, and turned into sources of sport
and merriment for Nero and the mob. They
covered their bodies with the skins of wild
beasts, that they might be worried and torn to
pieces by dogs ; they nailed them to crosses ;
made bonfires of their bodies, having smeared
them all over with lard and pitch, or fastened
them in such a manner on pedestals and in
conspicuous places, that the flames issuing
from them * '^rved to light the imperial gar-
dens, and to shed lustre on the games and
public entertainments which were blended
with the punishment of the Christians. Nero
had ordered the imperial pleasure-grounds of
the Vatican to be thrown open on this exhi-
bition which was set off with chariot-races

1 73 The Victims of the Mameriine,

and other sports of the circus on the grandest
scale. The emperor himself appeared dressed
as a charioteer, by turns careering upon the
course at furious speed, or mingling with the
mob on foot, loaded as they were with guilt,
and deserving to be made examples of. Still
this revolting mixture of levity and ferocious-
ness, added to the refledtion that they were
victimized through the savage baseness of the
despot, and not through solicitude for the
public good, contributed to change abhorrence
of these wretches into commiseration of their
cruel fate." '"*

Such were the depravity of the times, and
the virulence of calumny against the Chris-
tians, that the pagans but needed the hint
from the ruling powers to discharge their
pent-up fury on the devoted race. Hence
they were no sooner proscribed by Nero,
than they were everywhere pursued and
subjected to the most excruciating torments.
This was patiently permitted by Divine Pro-
vidence, that future generations of men might
see that the disciples should follow the Master,
and that the Church triumphed-over not one

* Book XV. chap. 44,

The First Persecvtion,

1/9

tyrant or the tyrants of one province only,
but the united force of the pagan world.

Nero had a Hiousand abettors in his
crimes. He was the only one that revelled
in such cruelties ; the pagans emulated with
each other in suggesting the direst cruelty.
" It was deemed a virtue in them to do so,"
says Eusebius ; " it was their study and the
summit of their ambition, and that one tri-
umphed over the others who surpassed th^m
in refinement of cruelty." *

" It would be vain," says Lactantius, " to
attempt the description of the atrocities
which the ministers of the imperial ven-
geance have perpetrated on the disciples of
Christ in every region of the world. Merely
to enumerate the various species of torments
devised by their cruelty would fill many
volumes, for each followed the bent of his
own barbarous caprice, having received un-
limited power over his victims. Some,
through apprehension of being accused of
lenity, surpassed the cruel orders they had
received ; some were incited by the hatred
they had conceived against us ; others by

♦ Book viii. chap. 12.

i8o The Vic tuns of the Mamertine. >.

desire to recommend themselves to the
prince's favor and gain promotion, Hke that
judge in Phrygia who set fire to the church
when the faithful were assembled in it and
burned them all to death." ''^'

The Apostles Peter and Paul did not
suffer in the first outburst of this terrible
storm. They were not in Rome at the
time, being away in the East at a council in
Jerusalem. They hurried back to Rome to
assist and encouraije the Christians in their
awful affliiCtion, and three years passed from
the burning of the city to the time we find
the holy Apostles prisoners in the Mamertine.
During the last two years the persecution
began to lull, and the Christians, who sprang
up a million- fold fi'om the blood of the mar-
tyrs, were more numerous than ever in
Rome

The preaching of Sts. Peter and Paul
fell with miraculous power on every circle of
society ; their wonderful powers were spoken
of on every side, and their triumph, if we
may so speak, Wcts the cause of their r lin
But strange and interesting events ^o\\

* •' Iji ,'i ( » ost,," book V, chap. ii.

The First Persecutioti.

i8i

place before this martyrdom. We must
bring the reader once more in spirit to the
new and improved city built by Nero, and
contemplate an extraordinary scene that
took place in the Forum, within a few yards
of the Mamertine Prison.

IV.

Nero had every vice ; everything impious
or infamous found a protection or an en-
couragement in this unparalleled monster.
Amongst the crimes opposed to religion
and pleasing to hell are witchcraft and
diabolic mai^ic. He was initiated into all
the secrets of these dark arts, and, in the
blind infatuation which they cast over the
powers of reason, he foolishly imagined he
would find in the livid streaks and reeking
entrails of human beings the secrets by
which he could rule his own divinities. It is
said, when the brutes of the forest have once
tasted human blood, thev become infuriated
for mo' e ; so, when abandoned wretches
have plunged into the horrors of this abo-
minable art, when their hands are stained

In I

182 The Victims of the Mamertine,

with the gore of bleeding victims, their eyes
glisten in deh'ght, and they hang for hours
in mad fascination over the quivering en-
trails. The impostors who have pretended
to gain information by these infamous studies
have been ever held in hatred, and have
been banished by law from every state. In
Rome, the soothsayers and astrologers of
Chaldea, as well as the professors of magic
who generally came from the East, were pro-
scribed by law ; but, when the head of the
empire was initiated, they flocked with impu-
nity to the capital, and by the assistance of
the demons occasionly performed wonders
that made the people look on them as gods.
Anion ofst the leaders of this diabolical sect,
the most famous in the time and in the court
of Nero was Simon Magus.

Simon, named the Magician, was a native
of Samaria, and was baptized by Philip, one
of the seven Deacons. Whilst yet in his
native place, he saw St. Peter and St. John
placing their hands on the newly converted,
and conferring on them the Spirit of the Holy
Giost and the gift of languages and miracles.
U wrs he that off-^red a large sum of money
to St. Peter to purchase the power of per-

The First Persecution,

1 8.^

ve
le
lis
in

forming* miracles, and hence arises the term
of Simony — from his name — the traffic iri
sacred things.

After the departure of the Apostles from
Samaria, Simon, instead of profiting of the
charitable advice of St. Peter, became puffed
up with pride, and listened to the suggestions
of the evil fiend who took him entirely under
his power. Apt disciple of the proud spirit
of evil, he at once aspired to divine honors,
and called himself the " Power of Hie Omni-
potent," "the Son of God," etc. He de-
signed a new religion, which may w^ell be
imagined as a compound of every infamy
the devils could suggest. Were it not for
the impiety and blasphemy expressed in his
doctrines, we could laugh at their absurdity.
Such, for instance, were his infamous ach-
ing; the devils, whom he called angf , and
not God, created the world ; there as no
such sin as impurity known befo" God ;
one of his own concubines, name^. Helen,
was to be honored as the Holy Spirit, etc.

By the assistance of the devils, he per-
formed some false miracles, such as to take
the form of different animals, to make s.atues
move, changing stones into bread, passing

'11

1 84 The Victims of the Mamertine.

fire without being burnt, and raising himself
in the air. All these things he did before
Nero, who held him in great esteem and
even fear. On one occasion Nero followed
him to punish him for some little difference.
Simon disappeared, and instead of the ma-
gician the emperor held in his hand a little
bird.

Thus, under the protection of the emperor,
teaching a doctrine that flattered the pride
and base passions of man, and contrasted
keenly with; the humility and chastity
preached by the Apostles, confirming his
teaching with everything that came under
the demon power, this impostor was the
greatest obstacle to the progress of the Gos-
pel in the city of Rome. The Christians
poured forth fervent prayers that God would
confound him, that the great truth would
triumph, that those who trusted in his holy
name might not be shaken in their confi-
dence by the power he permitted in his ene-
mies. Their prayers were heard, and he
who abandons the impious over to the fool-
ish inventions of their own hearts allowed
Simon to be the cause of his own ruin.

The first encounter of St. Peter with this

The First Persecution.

1 8s

impostor is given us in a letter of Marcellus
to the holy youths Nereus and Achilles,
exiles in the Island of Pontius. The miracles
performed by St. Peter on this occasion are
the most authentic in the life of the great
Apostle, and especially interesting to our
English readers as involving the conversion
of the family of the great British general
Caractacus. The writer of the letter above
mentioned was an eye-witness and a con-
verted disciple of the magician — led to the
knowledge of the truth on thf .":casion
which he thus describes :

" It happened, whilst Simon was denounc-
inof St. Peter as a maofician, and endeavor-
ing to stir up the populace against him, that
there passed by that same place, with a great
concourse of people and loud lamentations,
the funeral of a widow's only son. Then
said St. Peter to the multitude who were
listening to Simon: 'Approach the bier, and
let the body they are carrying to the tomb
be set down between us, and let the faith of
that one of us be followed as true who ,hall
raise the dead man to life.' When the people
had done this, Simon cried out : ' Now, if
I make him alive, will you ki.l Peter? ' ' We

1 86 The Victims of the Mamertine,

will burn him alive 1 ' responded the multi-
tude. Then Simon, invoking all the demons,
began by their ministry so to act that the
body was moved, which, the people seeing,
betran to laud Simon to the skies, shoutinor
death to Peter. He having with the great-
est difficulty obtained a hearisig, said to the
people: ' If he be really alive, let him speak,
let him walk, let him take food, let him re-
turn to his house, which if he fail to do,
know that you are deceived by Simon.' On
this the people cried out: ' If he do not thus,
let Simon suffer the penalty he fixed for
Peter!' But Simon, pretending to be in-
sulted by being doubted of, was taking him-
seb^ off when the crowd laid hold of him, and,
loading him with all sorts of abuse, would
not let him go. Then Peter, expanding his
hands to heaven, said : ' Lord Jesus Christ,
who has said to us thy disciples, '* Go in my
name, and cast out devils, cure the infirm,
and raise the dead," reanimate this youth,
that all this multitude may know that thou
art God, and that there is no other besides
thee, who livest and reignest with the Father
and the Holy Ghost.

" Immediately the youth that had been

The First Persecution.

187

dead rose, and, reverencing Peter, said ; ' I
saw the Lord Jesus Christ commanding the
angels, and saying, "At the petition of my
servant Peter, let the orphan of the widow be ^
restored to his mother." Then all the people
shouted with one voice: ' VVhom Peter
preacheth is the only God ! * They would
have burnt Simon alive, but Peter saved him,
saying: 'Our Master taught us this: To do
good for evil.' '' *

Amongst the crowd who had gathered
around, there happened to be a poor afflict-
ed father who had lost his son the night be-
fore. He was returning from the Capitol,
where he had been to invite some friends to
the obsequies ; he stood in silent grief, pen-
sively observing all that passed. The face
of the dead youth and wringing lamentations
of the mother found a chord of sympathy in
his own afflicted heart; the richness of his
garments and the golden band on his toga
announced him to be a senator ; the popu-
lace knew him to be the wealthy Pudens, of
the Vicus Patricius. With amazement he
saw the youth bound from his bier at the

* " Acts of St. Pctronilla," May 7.

1 88 The Victims of the Mamertine,

prayers of Peter; he drew near the young
man, he spoke to him, he convinced himself
the resurrection was real ; hope flashed
through his aching heart; he thought a simi-
lar blessing might be brought to his own
desolate home. Making his way through
the crowd, he flung himself on his knees
before Peter, and with many tears told
his sad tale : his lovely child, in the dawn
of youth, loved by all, cut down like a flower
in the first fragrance of its bloom ; he would
give wealth, villas, and slaves, anything, but
let life be brought again to the idol of his
heart. St. Peter raised him gently, and in
a kind, compassionating tone, told him he
would go with him to his house.

" How our hearts burned as he spoke to
us on the way," was said by the disciples of
our Blessed Lord when he accompanied
them in disguise to Emmaus. So, too, might
Pudens say of the conversation that passed
as he conducted the apostle to his home.
The sublime mysteries of Christianity have
a thrilling effect when first heard b\' the
hapless victims of idolatry ; even the savage
who sees for the first time the cross on the
breast of the missioner expresses in the sha-

The First Persecution,

189

dows that pass over his countenance the
passions that are stirred in the soul. Before
reaching the superb mansion of the family,
Pudens was a Christian at heart. While
yet on the portico strange sounds of mingled
mirth and woe rolled through the halls of the
stately edifice. Laurel wreaths were hung
from the capitals of the columns, or laid
in handsome designs on the mosaic pave-
ment; the statues of Joy and Prosperity
were veiled, and shrill, clear voices were
heard now and then calling out a loved one's
name, and then dying away in the touching
pathos of grief. All was gloom and sorrow.
The cold shadow of death fell with its icy
chill on the pagan home of eighteen centu-
ries past, with all its heart-rendings, and se-
parations, and woes, ^s bitterly as it breaks
the family circle of our days.

Followed by the wondering guests, the
afflicted Pudens led the Apostle to the room
where the sable nuptials of death were cele-
brated. The revel of false joy paused as the
patrician moved along the brilliant galleries.
The sobs of hired sympathy, and the pre-
tended lamentations of purchased grief, were
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190 The Victims of the Mamertine, ^

here the giddy dance stood still ; there the
boisterous clowns of the pantomime looke^
grave; the timbrel, the madrigal, and the
flute we«-e hushed, and every eye escorted the .
broken-hearted father as he led the Apostle
towards the dead body of his child.

The boy was habited as on a holiday,
and reclined on a glittering couch, as if re-
posing after the toils of sport. A stole of
flowers fell from his shoulders over his white
and beautiful costume ; lilies and roses were
twined whh the clustering ringlets of his
hair ; but their bloom only served to deepen
the shadows overcasting that countenance,
so lately beaming with youthful joy. Those
features were now steeped in the mildew of
death and were cold and white. That form
which used to move in all the martial sports
and exercises of Roman boyhood with agility
and grace that enchanted every beholder,
was now motionless as a Parian statue. That
eye so full of Roman majesty and ambition
was shrouded in eternal night; those lips,
livid and silent, were unable to utter one
word of comfort to the afflicted father as he
bent over the wreck of all his cherished
hopes.

The First Persecution.

191

The noble spouse of Pudens, Claudia, not
less celebrated for her beauty than her birth
as the daughter of Caractacus, and her lovely
daughters Pudentiana and Praxede, arrived
at the scene of grief, weeping and loudly
lamenting the affliction that had fallen on
their family.* They called on Timotheus
to awake ; they took him by the cold hand
with fondness, and, after again and again
conjuring him by name as if he still lived,
they drew the Apostle by the garments to-
wards the bier, praying him to awake their

* It is not unlikely that Caractacus, the brave English gene>
ral who defied the whole strength of the Romans for ten years,
and brought to Rome in the time of Claudius, and pardoned
by that emperor, contracted a second marriage while in Rome,
with some lady about the court, whom British historians
called Gervissa, and exalt to the honor of being the daughter
of Claudius himself. What seems certain is that Caractacus'
daughter Claudia, who, like her father, changed her name in
honor of the emperor, continued at Rome, and was married to
the Senator Pudens, where she was celebrated for her beauty
and virtue by the poet Martial, and commended by St. Paul
amongst the chief saints of the Roman Church. See Milner's
*' Hist, of Winchester," page 31 ; Lingard, Wiley, etc. It is
an interesting fact that the villa of Pudens, outside the Porta
Salaria, where Caractacus afterwards lived with the family, is
the property of the Irish College at Rome. Near this vineyard
also is shown the spot where Nero tried to put himself to death,
which, with the assistance of his frcedman, ended his wretched

192 The Victims of the Mamertine, ^

brother. The aged Apostle was moved to
tears. Kneeling by the couch of death, he
raised his eyes and hands towards heaven.
He breathed on the lifeless form, and life
came with the breath of Peter. Like
sunrise in the Apennines, where morning
leaps through the twilight and bursts in

•

splendor on the plains, the balmy and re-
fulgent ray of life fell on the motionless
boy ; he breathed, he panted with exuberant
sensation; he bounded from the bier like an
angel fr6m his rest, and his voice rang
through the hall in silvery tones of exclama-
tion.

The parents embraced their child, and
pressed him alternately to their bosoms as
if beside themselves with joy. They bathed
his now warm cheeks by turns with gushing
tears and the most passionate caresses ; then
gazed upon him as if incredulous with de-
light, and again pressed him anew with re-
doubled emotion to their hearts. His sisters
folded their Parian arms in their turn around
him, and, looking up with tears that reflected
the radiant affection of their brother's smile,
upbraided him with their sorrow and made
him promise not to die again.

The First Persecution,

193

Joy, wonder, bewilderment, and ecstasy
seized the bystanders, and the murmur of
those who beheld the miracle was varied as
the sounds of the harp when its chords are
swept by the winds of heaven. Even callous
scepticism was confounded. The timid glid-
ed forward to see, and, when they beheld
the delightful certainty, they trembled, and
with faint shrieks shrank back as from an
apparition. The aged lifted up their wither-
ed hands in amazement. Aged scepticism
stroked his beard, and, setting himself firmly
on the earth, peered steadfastly from under
knitted eyebrows, as if determined that
neither credulity nor legerdemain should fool
his intellect. The bacchanal, with the ivy
tangled in his dishevelled hair and reeling
from his cups, drew a hand across his un-
steady vision ; the whirl of intoxication
stopped, undulated for an instant, and, look-
ing upon him living who had been dead, he
grew sober from astonishment.

The effects of this miracle are registered
far away in the annals of immortal joy. The
whole family of Pudens became Christians.
St. Peter lived with them, and, in the house
of this noble senator, consecrated his first

/'.--•■ \-

!94 The Victims of the Mamertine,

altar and celebrated the Holy Sacrifice. The
little capella first used by St. Peter was
in after-years developed into the most re-
markable shrine of the early Church. It
bore the title Ad Pastorem. It still bears
the veneration of passing generations under
the name of Pudentiana, one of the maiden
and sainted granddaughters of the venera-
ble senator.

Years rolled on, and the magician, with
the boldness of hypocrisy and error, boasted
of his powers — his immortality and pretend-
ed divinity. At length it pleased God to
hand him over to the foolish inventions of
his own heart, and prove to the world the
hypocrisy of his pretended power. With the
pride of Lucifer, he boasted one day before
Nero he would leave the world before all
the people, and fly through the air to the im-
mortal, kingdom he had abandoned for un-
grateful and insensate people. The offer
•was accepted, the day appointed, and prepa-
rations made on a grand scale for the ascen-

The First Persecution,

195

sion of the magician god. In long prayer
and rigorous fasting, the Apostles prepared
themselves to encounter the enemies of the
Church. The Saturday beforehand was ob-
served as a perfect fast by all the Christians
in Rome, and hence commenced, as St.
Augustine observes, the practice of abstain-
ing on a Saturday in perpetual remembrance
of the protection which God afforded to his
Church on this important occasion.

The day appointed arrived. It was a
Sunday morning in the month of September
in Christian computation — in pagan, it was in
the Kalends of October — in the year 67 of
the Christian era. The Forum was filled
with spectators. The emperor was present
with all his court, confident of a great vic-
tory. Dressed in fantastic colors according
to the custom of magicians at that time, and
surrounded with mysterious emblems which
were supposed to inspire awe in the vulgar
mind, Simon stepped into the centre of the
Forum with an air of conceit and pride that
told of the demon that ruled within. He
had a chariot prepared, in which were placed
some colored fires. He stepped into the
chariot. The Christians present redoubled

196 The Victims of the Mamertine, ^

their prayers to God, and watched the issue
with trembling hearts. It is the way of God
to permit the impious to triumph awhile, that
in the flush of their pride — the moment of
their apparent triumph — ^he may cast them
into deeper shame.

The appointed moment is at hand: a
breathless stillness broods over the assembled
thousands, and all eyes are turned towards
the magician. He waves his wand, and
mutters some verses. His chariot moves; it
^ is slovvlyj raised in the air. O God ! will the
enemy triumph ? Will the prayers of thy
people be poured forth in vain? St. Peter
kneels. Whilst yet the populace are com-
mencing the lotd murmur of surprise, the
lightning of heaven struck the chariot. Like
a blazing aerolite it came whirling down,
casting the impostor in a fearful smash at
the feet of the emperor, whose golden gar-
ments were stained with his blood.

Simon was not killed. Although he fell
some hundreds of feet, he was preserved that
he might add the crime of suicide to the dark
catalogue of his guilt. Carried in his man-
gled state by his followers to a part of the
city called Brunda, in the shame of his blast-

The First Persecution,

197

ed pride, he managed to fling himself from
a window, and, by another fall on the marble
pavement, gave his soul to the demons to
who.n he had sold it.*

Thousands were converted by this miracle.
The Christians returned to their homes in joy
— comforted by Him who at first seemed to
sleep as when on the bark of Galilee. The
pagans — especially the house of Nero — were
sullen and discomfited. The heart of the
tyrant became the workshop of hell's revenge ;
for the only power the demons can wield
is the impiety jof man. The temples aban-
doned, the concubines of the royal palace con-
verted, and his cherished magicians proved

* There is preserved in Rome, in the Church of Santa Maria
Nuova (now St. Frances), the stone on which St. Peter is sup-
posed to have knelt on this occasion. St. Gregory of Tours
asserts he saw it, with the impression of the Apostle's knees, in
the sixth century (" De Gloria Mart.," ch. xxviii.) Nearly
all historiaivs record this fall of Simon Magus. There is
scarcely any fact so universally admitted. See August,
"Haer.," i. epist. 36; Ambrose, lib. iv. ; Hierom., cap. viii ;
also Sermon. 58 ; Cyril of Jerusalem, cap. vi. ; Herodotus, lib.
i. cap, i. ; Arnobius,lib. ii. ; Maximus, Homil. 54 ; Sulpicius
Severus, " Hist.," lib. ii. ; Suetonius, lib. vi. cap. xii. ; Dion
Chrysostom, " Orat." 21 ; and many others, amongst whom
Pope Linus, who was an eye-witness. The place where Simon
fell is supposed to be opposite the present church of St.
Martina. '

/ •

198 The Victims of the Mamerfine.

to be impostors, were unpardonable crimes
laid against the Christians.* \

The sword already stained and blunted in
the work of the persecution is burnished and
sharpened for more bloodshed. New edicts
are prepared in the royal palace, and in the
first week in October, in the sixty-eighth
year of the Christian era, the Mamertine re-
ceived its first Christian victims, whither we
must now hasten to contemplate the great
Apostles Peter and Paul.
. \

* St. John Chrysostom states in his " Homily" that the last and
strongest cause of *the persecution was the conversion by
St. Paul of one of the concubines of Nero. Asterius, torn.
v., Horn, ix., says: "Major< a labefactata voluptate effectum
dolore quam si imperio pulsus esset."

t crimes

•v-»^ f .^^ ?^

■ 1/

CHAPTER IV.

THE APOSTLES IN THE MAMERTINE.

" Clauditur in tenebris hominum piscator et inde
Bina quaterdenos retia missa trahunt
Unda deest, Petri virga Tarpeja Rapes
Percussa e petris larga fluenta dedit
Clavigerum coeli, Armlgeri de carcere mittunt
Hie illis clausas pandit ad astra fores."

Marchina,

|E have nothing in the range of our
experience to compare to the hor-
rors of nine months in this terri-
ble prison. Those who have
never seen the Mamertine, terrible in its
modernized form, may conjure to the aid
of imagination all that they may have read
of castle-keeps, of dungeons, of dark and
cheerless cells, where the victims of injustice
and tyranny have been cruelly immured, yet
the Mamertine could equal in the reality the
gloomiest picture of fancy. Leave thy home
of luxury for a moment, and look into that

2CX) The Victims of the Mamertine.

cell that was never brightened by the cheer-
ful ray of day, and behold chained to a col-
umn the greatest heroes the world ever
possessed. Let not the darkness and fetid
air drive you back : pass through the aper-
ture in the rocky roof into the first prison ; it
alone would be sufficient to terrify ; but yet
through another opening, and descend into
the lower dungeon. There, with the light of
that halo which reverence casts around those
prisoners, behold the rock on which the
church 6f Jesus Christ has been built; be-
side him, in similar chains, the vessel of elec-
tion, the Apostle of the Gentiles ! See the
hard bed on which they sleep; the cold,
damp walls, the food of bread and water, and
the harsh treatment of the cruel keepers!
Count the lonely hours and days passed for
nine months in one dreadful, unbroken night;
and shudder at the picture imagination will
give in filling in the horrors of the imprison-
ment. It is by contemplating such places and
such scenes we arrive at some idea of what
the early Christians suffered for their faith ;
and it is in the study of their heroism and
fidelity we learn to blush for our timid and
effeminate Christianity.

The Apostles in the Mamertine. 201

One thought, perchance, afflicted— the long-
ing to preach. Yet the apostles and mar-
tyrs were happy in their prisons. No pri-
vations could touch the soul at peace with
God. The more abandoned and deprived
of earthly comfort, the more the virtuous
soul clings to him, and he, who loves from on
high and watches the soul in trouble, pours
around it that peace which surpasseth all un-
derstanding. It was in an ecstasy of delight
that St. Paul, commencing his epistle when ia
prison, wrote: *'In chains for Jesus Christ."

But why the apostles were so long con-
fined in the Mamertine will necessarily be
asked. A tyrant so cruel as Nero, roused to
such hatred and indignation against those
holy men, makes their long imprisoriment the
more extraordinary. They deprived him of
his favorite concubine, they seduced from the
circle of his confidants the ablest of his secre-
taries, and they defeated, and in the sight of all
the people, the companion of his dissipation,
the medium of his incantations and charms.
These were triumphs not easily to be borne
by a wretch like Nero, who knew no master
but passion and caprice. Great, then, must
have been the cause that stayed the reveng^

^;;-

'■'

'^/ •''«;

202 7*-^^ Victims of (he Mamertine,

of the tyrant. We Christians ask : " What
was the arrangement of Providence, that still
spared for so many months those great lights
and pillars of the Church ?" A glance at the
events that were passing around the imperial
palace at this time will give a clue to answer
this difficulty. *

Nero had sent the apostles to prison, and
intended at his convenience to put them to a
most cru^l death. In the meantime he dis-
covered a terrible conspiracy to end his
career oi infamy. Cajus Piso, wearied, as
was the whole world, with the excesses of
this tyrant, determined to murder him. He
gained many followers amongst the senators,
the commanders of the army and fleet, and
the noble families of the city, but the plot
was discovered by the imprudence of one of
the conspirators. They had decided to make
the attempt during the Circensian games, in
honor of the goddess Ceres. It was arrang-
ed that Lateranus (the owner of the Lateran
palace of those days), on account of his great
physical strength and courage, having em-
braced the emperor's knees, as if in urging
some petition, should overthrow him, and
that, while thus held down, the officers and

The Apostles in the Mamertine. 203

others should fall on him and despatch him.
One of their number, named Scevinus, im-
plored that he might be placed in the van, as he
was in possession of a dagger which he had
carried off from a temple in Etruria, and which
he wore as a weapon destined by the Fates
for some great exploit. It was by the brava-
doing of this man the affair got wind ; al-
though Tacitus remarks, how a conspiracy
of such immense hazard, known to numbers
of all orders, ages, sexes, was kept secret
so long, was truly wonderful. " Scevinus,
having conferred for some time with Antonius
Natalis, came home on the eve of the day that
was to be fatal to Nero; and, with all due
formality, first of all made his will, then, un-
sheathing the aforesaid dagger, began to
curse its rusty point, and, handing it to his
freedman Milicho, made him go and whet it
on a rock until it was as sharp as lightning.
Then, having dined more sumptuously than
was his wont, he gave their liberty to some
of the slaves, to others sums of money, and,
with a rueful expression of face and a per-
turbation of mind but ill-disguised by the
levity of his discourse, gave orders for band-
' ages, and other matters for staunching

■ il

204 The Victims of the Mamertine.

wounds, to the same Milicho. From these
movements, and from some fatal expressiojis
which the bravado let fall, Milicho suspected
what was brewing, and, having taken coun-
sel with his wife, she not cnly confirmed his
suspicions, but so worked on his cowardice
and cupidity that the morning had hardly
dawned when his master was apprehended
on his information. Soon after him they
seized Natalis, who was the first to turn
traitor, impeaching both his friend Piso and
Seneca, Aorainst whom Nero was only seek-
ing an excuse to gratify his hatred. On
hearing this, Scevinus out with all the rest,
amongst whom Lucan, Quintianus, and Sene-
cib held out for a long while, but, after a
promise of pardon, they endeavored to atone
for this delay— Lucan by denouncing his
own mother Atillia, and Quintianus and Se-
necio by betraying each his bosom friend." *
A fearful slaughter of the great men of
the empire commenced. Every one on
whom the least suspicion could fall was
dragged to torture and death, and so for-
gotten and lost was the brave old Roman

* Tacitus, as above, chapter Ivii.

The Apostles in the Mamertine, 205

spirit of the Republic th.it these men con-
sented to die without making one blow for
liberty. Some of them, nevertheless, met
death with great bravery.

Seneca had the choice of death given him.
The old philosopher, by far the greatest man
of the day, opened the veins of his feet in hot
water that he might bleed to death ; finding
death did not come quick enough, he took
poison, and was finally suffocated. It is said
he was intimate with St. Paul, and there
are still extant some letters that passed be-
tween them. Their authenticity is somewhat
doubted. . . f

When Subrius Flavins was questioned by
Nero, whilst under torture, why as a soldier
had he forgotten his oath, " Never," he brave-
ly replied, " was pretorian more devoted to
his emperor than I to you while you deserv-
ed my loyalty ; but I began to execrate you
from the time that, having murdered your
mother and your spouse, you turned chari-
oteer, buffoon, and incendiary." *

In Peto, the historian tells us that virtue
itself was proscribed. His wife, hearing he

Tacitus, ut supra.

2o6 The Victims of the Matfurtine,

was condemned, exhorted him to anticipate
the sentence, not to give the tyrant the satis-
faction of torturing him. To animate him to
this false bravery, she seized a dagger and
plunged it into her own breast, then, drawing
it out reeking with blood, she handed it to
Peto, saying : " Take this weapon, Peto : the
wound I have inflicted does not pain me, but
that which you will inflict on yourself will
bring me a mortal agoi^y." Martial com-
memorates this courageous woman in one of
his epigrams :

" Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Peto,
Quem de visceribus traxerat ipsa suis ; \ ry-i
Si qua fides vulnus quod feci, non dolet, inquit,
Sed quod tu facies, hoc mihi, Pete, dclet."

Thus the city was filled with funerals, and
the capital with sacrifices. The houses his
wrath had visited might be known by the
laurel leaves and garlands around their por-
tals. In the bloodshed of the nobles and
patricians, the tyrant had not time to think
of the poor despised Christians, and amongst
them the apostles in the Mamertine.

Having terrified all who could entertain a
thought against his life, Nero determined to
take a journey to Greece, to superintend im-

The Apostles in the Mamertine, 207

mense works he had previously undertaken.
It was his intention to cut the Isthmus of
Corinth, and thus shorten the sea-route to
the Archipelago. After enormous expense,
he failed, as Julius Caesar had failed before
him.

"^ In the meantime, whilst the tyrant is away,
strange things were passing in the Mamer-
tine. The apostles were chained, but the
word of God was not chained. They con-
verted their keepers, and forty-seven others
confined along with them in the prison. We
will quote the original text of the Acts of SS.
Martinianus and Processus : they lead us to
a series of events as strange as they are in-
teresting. \

II.

"At the time that Simon Magus destroyed
himself through pride and shame, the impious
Nero delivered the blessed Apostles Peter
and Paul to Paulinus, a man of great power,
who handed the apostles over to the keepers
of the Mamertine prison. There came to
them many infirm Christians, and they were
cured of their diseases ; others possessed by

2o8 The Victims of the Mamertine,

devils were freed by the prayers of the apos-
tles. There were also appointed for the
guardianship of the apostles a great number
of soldiers, amongst whom were two captains
named Processus and Martinianus. When
they had seen the wonders that were per-
formed by the apostles of our Lord Jesus
Christ, full of admiration they said to them :
* Venerable men, you cannot doubt but Nero
has by this time forgotten you, since this is the
ninth month that you have been in prison ;
we pray you, therefore, go wheresoever you
wish, but first, in the name of Him by whom
you work such miracles, baptize us.' The
Apostles Peter and Paul said to them : ' If
"you will believe in the name of the Trinity
with your whole heart and soul, you also will
be able to do those things which you have
seen us doing.' When those who were in
the prison heard this, they all unanimously
cried out : * Give us water, for we perish with
thirst.' At the same time, blessed Peter
the Apostle, in the same Mamertine prison,
said to them all, * Believe in God the Father
Almighty, and our Lord Jesus Christ his
only begotten Son, and the Holy Ghost, and
all will be ministered to you.'

The Apostles in the Mamertine. 209

*' Then they all cast themselves at the feet
of the apostles, praying that they might be
baptized by them. The blessed apostles
prayed to God ; their prayer being finished,
the blessed Peter made the sign of the cross
on the Tarpeian rock in the same prison, and
at the moment water flowed from the rock,
and Processus and Martinianus were baptized
by blessed Peter the Apostle. When all those
who were in the prison had seen this, they
cast themselves at the feet of the blessed
Apostle Peter, and they were baptized, of dif-
ferent sexes and different ages, to the number
of forty- seven. He offered for them the Sac-
rifice of Praise (the Blessed Eucharist), and
made them participate of the body and blood
of our Lord Jesuc Christ. Then SS. Proces-
sus and Martinianus said to the holy apostles
of Christ, * Go where you will, since Nero has
forgotten you and despaired of you.'

" The apostles then went out of the prison
by the way called the Appian, and arrived
at the Appian gate. Near a hedge in the
Via Nuova, there fell from the foot of blessed
Peter a bandage, for the iron chains had cut
him ; and when he had come to the Appian
gate he saw our blessed Lord, alid, recogniz-

2IO The Victims of the Mamertine,

ing him, said to him, * Lord, where art thou
going?' and the Lord said, 'To Rome, to
be crucified again.' Peter returned to .Rome
by daylight, and the soldiers seized him.

" It having been announced to Paulinus the
prefect, that Processus and Martinianus had
been made Christians, he sent soldiers, and
having seized them ordered them to be cast
into prison. The next day he ordered them
to be led forth, and, being conducted into his
presence, he. said : ' Have you thus become
so foolish that, abandoning the gods and
goddesses whom our invincible rulers wor-
ship, whom antiquity adores, you are led
to be deprived of the ornaments of your
(military) service ? ' Martinianus with a
clear voice replied : * We have already com-
menced to participate in the sacraments of a
celestial warfare.' Paulinus then said : ' Put
away the madness of your breasts, and adore
the immortal gods, whom you have venerated
and worshipped from your cradles, and in
whose religion you have been brought up.' *

" But the blessed martyrs with one voice
said: 'We are now Christians.'

"Paulinus said: * Hear me, my compan-
ions in arms, and do what I tell you. Be my

The Apostles in the Mamertine, 211

friends and enjoy your military position, and
live sacrificing to the omnipotent gods, and
you will be illustrious with our princes.'

" They both replied : ' 'Tis sufficient that we
have declared to you that we are true Chris-
tians, and servants of God md our Lord
Jesus Christ, whom his blessed Apostles Peter
and Paul have preached.'

" Paulinus said : ' I have already said, again
repeating I say, take my advice and live.'

"But they were silent. Again and again
Paulinus urged them, but, findilig it to no
effect, ordered their mouths to be bruised
with stones. After they had been beaten a
long time, both cried out together: *' Glory
be to God on high.'

" Paulinus said to the soldiers, ' Bring out
the tripod, that they may sacrifice to the di-
vinities.' But the blessed martyrs replied :
'We have already offered sacrifice to the
one omnipotent God.'

" The tripod being brought forth, Paulinus
said : ' Do what I say.' They also brought
out the golden statue of Jupiter, but the holy
martyrs, seeing it, laughed, and spat at the
tripod and statue of Jupiter before Paulinus
himself.

212 The Victims of the Mamertine,

" Then Paulinus ordered them to be stretch-
ed on the rack and to be beaten with clubs.
But they, with cheerful looks and rejoicing,
said: 'We give thee thanks, O Lord Jesus
Christ.'

"Paulinus, incensed to great fury, ordered
flames to be applied to their sides ; but the
martyrs said : ' Blessed be the name of our
Lord Jesus Christ, whom his Apostles Pe-
ter and Paul have preached.'

"There was at that time a most noble lady
of the r^amfe of Lucina. Assisting them, she
encouraged them with these words : * Be
firm, soldiers of Christ, and do not fear
pains, which are only of a short duration.'

" Paulinus again said to them : ' What
madness is this?' But they persevered,
and smiled at their torments. Paulinus
then ordered them, whilst still stretched on
the rack, to be beaten with . whips, with
iron spikes attached to' the lashes, whilst
the herald declared, with a loud voice : ' Do
not despise the orders of the prince.' At
the same moment the left eye of Paulinus
was struck blind, and, by force of great
pain being led to repent, exclaimed, 'O
verses of magic art ! ' and ordered them

The Apostles in the Mamertine. 213

to be taken from the rack, and, although
much lacerated, to be cast once more into
the Mamertine prison. The venerable ma-
tron Lucina carefully attended to them.

"The third day afterwards Paulinos, seized
by the devil, suddenly expired. His son,
Pomponius, crying out with a loud voice,
ran to the palace, and said : ' Come forth,
ye rulers of the state, and let those pro-
fessors of the magic art be exterminated.'

" Caesarius, the prefect of the city, hear-
ing those th^'ngs, related the facts to Nero,
who ordered them to be put to death im-
mediately ; and Pomponius, the son of
Paulinus, urged the prefect of the city not
to delay. Then the prefect put the sen-
tence into execution. Taking them out
of prison, he had them brought outside the
walls of the city of Rome, on the Via Au-
relia, where they were beheaded.

"When the blessed Lucina saw them,
she followed them, with her family, to the
Aqueduct, where they were beheaded; and
their bodies, left to be devoured by dogs,
this holy matron gathered together, and,
casting over them most precious balms,
she buried them in a sand-pit in her own

214 The Victims of the Mamertine,

garden, near the place of their execution*
on the sixth Nones of July, in the Via Au-
relia, where even to the present day bless-
ings are received from them, reigning our
Lord God and Saviour Jesus Christ."

A church was erected to the memory of
these martyrs on the Aurelian Way, and
here Gregory the Great delivered the thir-
ty-second of his Homilies, in which he re-
lates some interesting miracles that took
place at their tombs. In the time of the
Goths, 'relates this holy Pope, there was
a pious matron who used to come to the
tomb of these holy martyrs to pray. One
day she had come according to her cus-
tom, and when leaving she saw two men,
dressed as pilgrims, in a sort of monastic
costume, standing outside. At first she
thought they were pilgrims, and was go-
ing to give them a charity; but they, ap-
proaching nearer to her, said : ** You visit
us now: we will seek you on the day of
judgment. We will do for you whatso-
ever we are able." So saying, they dis-
appeared. She was frightened, and re-
turned to her prayers, and became more
zealous in her piety, as she was more en-

The Apostles in the Mamertine, 215

CO u raged by the promise of these holy
martyrs. •

Their relics were afterwards removed to
St. Peter's by Paschal I., and are now
under the altar, at the end of the right
transept, under the dome. Here the great
Council of the Vatican was held in 1869,
and over their altar was erected the throne
of the 247th successor of him who bap-
tized them in the Mamertine. Their
church on the Aurelian Way does not ex-
ist any longer. Becoming dangerous and
abandoned, it was destroyed in the time of
Urban VIII., and the material was used by
a man named Colangelo to build the casi-
no of his villa.

On the Appian Way is still shown the
spot where our blessed Lord appeared to
St. Peter. We have gathered some inter-
esting reminiscences of this place. We will
make them the subject of our next chap-
ter ; but we must beg the reader's atten-
tion for a few minutes, while we make
some observations on the extraordinary and
miraculous well called from the rock by
St. Peter, and still shown in the Mamer-
tine.

CHAPTER V.

THE MIRACULOUS WELL.

'it

EXT to the hallowed reminis-
cences that hang around the
walls of this prison, there is
nothing more interesting than the little
well in the centre of the pavement. It
is itself not only an existing monument
of the miracle that St. Peter, like another
Moses, performed in bringing water from
the rock, but is even to this day a puz-
zle to the learned, who can find no ex-
planation for its extraordinary and peren-
nial equality of depth, except by falling
back on another miracle. It has been
proved as a fact that the water never be-
comes more nor less. On the feast of
SS. Peter and Paul, and during the oc-
tave, the prison is crowded with devout
Romans, who, in the course of a few

8l6

The Miraculous Well,

217

hours, draw away tons of this water.
Yet the little well is inexhaustible — al-
ways the same level, the same depth.
Even persons who were somewhat incred-
ulous had the fact proved by applying a
powerful exhaustive machinery, which fail-
ed to have any more effect than the de-
votion of the people. Baronius refers to
this when he says, " Notissimum est rei
experimentum," etc.* ; and Bozio, " Et
plurimis est experimentis compertum," e'tcf
We have nothing in the laws of science to
explain this fact. There are thirty or forty
feet of rock beneath the spring; there is
no spring that we know of within a mile
of the Capitol (especially on the Mamertine
side of the Tarpeian), and no body of
water that could give the supply required
for the Mamertine, except that which is
brought into Rome by the aqueducts.
The nearest is the Aqua Felice, which
passes over the summit of the Capitol. It
comes from the Quirinal, acts as a foun-
tain, and passes on to render its services
to various parts of the city, in the direc-

*" Annals," vol. i., year 68.

t In lib. i., "De Signis," chap. xv.

218 T/te Victims of the Mamertine,

tion of St. Peter's. No leakage or break-
age, or even a secret conduit to the Mam-
ertine, could account for the unalterable
depth of this little well.

But we are walking on slippery ground,
and we dare not of ourselves venture to
assert this extraordinary circumstance. We
live in an age in which little faith is
given to anything beyond the power and
vision of men. We will therefore give a
few testimonials from great and learned
men, who have seen this well in centu-
ries past, and speak of it as we do now.

Baronius writes of this fountain thus :
"In the same prison, Processus and Mar-
tinianus, soldiers and guardians of the Apos-
tles, were converted to the faith, and by holy
baptism in the same place received into the
Church, a fountain springing by the divine
power from the rock, as their Acts testify.
It is worthy of admiration that this fountain
exists still, and not only memorable for the
events that passed near it, but is to this day
a continued miracle. ¥ov it is placed in the
middle of the prison, amidst immense layers
of travertine clinging together, and the rock
is perforated to the depth of a cubit, and in

The Miraculous WelL

219

breadth about a palm ; and thus the water
oozes (into this fountain) in such a manner
that it never overflows, and, no matter how
much may be taken out, it never becomes
dry. This fact is well known * for on certain
festival days, when this prison is visited for
religious motives by a great concourse from
every part of the city, all the faithful both
drink and take away water, and yet the foun-
tain remains unfailing."

Bosius still more beautifully refers to this
extraordinary well :

" In the year 68 it happened that St.
iPeter was cast into the Mamertine prison.
He was watched by the soldiers Processus
and Martinianus, Avho, at the exhortation of
St. Peter, gave themselves to the name of
Christ; and, since there was no water in
that place to baptize them, a fountain miracu-
lously sprang from the solid rock, and from
this water baptism was administered to them.
To this miracle, that the water first flowed

* " Admirationc enim digna est res, eumdem illic fontem in
banc usque diem perseverare, non tantum rerum ibi gesia^
ru'.n memoria nobilem, sed PERENNI illustrem miraculo.
.... Sic aqua scaturit, ut nee foras exundet, dec quam-
tumlibet hauriatur, unquam siccetur. Notissimum est ejus
rei expcrimentum," etc.

220 The Victims of the Mamertine.

suddenly from the rock, we have a second,
that it remained in a copious fountain, as
the Acts of the Martyrs testify, which are still
extant, and moreover, after 1520 years,* the
spring flowing from the dry marble has not
been yet dried up. But what surpasses all, as
each one may try for himself, and has already
been proved by many, it never becomes
empty ; although you may take froru it as
much as you wish. It is three feet deep and
one foot wide. Every year it is visited by an
immensfe concourse of people. There is no
one but drinks and takes away with him some
of this beautiful water. It never, however, be-
comes less, and, what will surprise you even
more, it always remains the same depth,
whether the water is taken out of it or not.
It neither diminishes nor overflows. I do
not send you to the Indies nor to our anti-
podes for these wonders. The Mamertine
prison is at the foot of the Capitol, there is
the fountain ; there this strange fact can be
seen at any moment." *

In the Acts of St. Lucina, an aged widow
cast into this prison in the commencement of
the fourth century, under Diocletian, we read

* Now 1807 years.

* In lib. i., " De Signis," c. xv.

The Miraculous Well,

221

she was cast into a prison where " Ex ejus i
fundamentis fluvio exundante," etc. (a stream
of water rising from its foundations).*

The learned Mabillon alludes to a MS. of
the ninth century, in which an allusion is
made to " the fountain of St. Peter where his
prison 'is '' — " Fons S. Petri ubi est career
ejus, -j- '

We find very little mention of this foun-
tain in the Middle Ages. The prison has
been frequently mentioned. This we can
very easily understand, if we remember the
difficulty of getting to the lower prison. Be-
fore the present commodious flight of stairs
v/as made in 1665, it was necessary to de-
scend through the openings in the roof or
ceiling. Moreover, the horrible effluvia and
darkness would damp the most fervent curi-
osity ; and we may safely presume that there
were few whose love of the antiquities
brought them to the lower prison of the

* See Acts in Bollandists, September i6.

fin torn, iv., " Veteruni Analectorunt," page 509. This
MS. is a guide for Rome, as it stood then. It was written by
a member of the court of Charlemagne, in 800, and discovered
by the monks of St. Maurus in a library in Einsiedeln. It
can be seen almost entirely quoted in Wiley's " History of the
Papal Slates," vol. i. . •

'Il i

222

The Victims of the Mamertine.

Mamertine. But since the stairs have been
"made and the ingress facilitated, thou-
sands from every country have visited either
through piety or curiosity this prison of the
apostles and martyrs, and this most ancient
relic of the Rome of the past.*

Cancellieri, who flourished in the last cen-
tury, and who has written several works of
interest and erudition on the Christian
monuments of Rome in his notice of this
miraculous well makes allusion to other
springs 'miraculously called into existence by
St. Venantius and St. Lawrence, and then

adds:

■.

" But this of the Mamertine is more won-
derful than all the others by reason of the
continual prodigy that may be seen there by
everybody. The well may be seen on one
side of the pavement. . . . The mouth
being made larger for the convenience of the
number of devout people who flock thither to

* Cancellieri has written some most exhaustive works on
Roman antiquities. His defence of the Mamertine as the real
TuIIian prison, against Baronius, is powerful and convincing.
From his little work, entitled '' Notizie del Carcere Tulliauo,"
long out of print, we gather much of the information we pre-
sent to the reader in these pages.

The Miraculous Well.

223

take of this water, which always maintains
the height of one palm and eleven inches,
without ever flowing over or ever becoming
less ; although it is very shallow, you may
continually take from it as much as you
wish." ' .

That the sanction of the Church has been
given to the extraordinary character of this
well, and that the Holy See has, through seve-
ral of its popes, encouraged the devotion of the
people around this sanctuary, we have only
to refer to the following inscription* placed
in marble in the wall of the upper prison,

* "This (is the) Mamertine prison, the most celebrated in
the world, in which the most holy Apostles Peter and Paul,
detained more than nine months through the cruelty of Nero,
baptized (literally sprinkled) Processus and Martinianus, the
keepers, and forty-seven others, afterwards martyrs, a miracu-
lous fountain of water having sprung forth, (which is) constant-
ly flowing up to the present time, and never decreasing from
frequent consumption. The blessed Pope Sylvester, at the re-
quest of Constantine the Great, dedicated it as a church to
these Saints; and afterwards Gregory XIII. honored it during
tlie kalends of August by the celebration of the full Sacrifice
of Expiation. To increase, therefore, the celebrity of this pri-
son, Benedict XIII., the chief pastor, of the Order of Preachers
(Dominicans), consecrated the repaired inner altar, with simi-
lar solemnity, on the fourth ides of November, 1726, The
President and officers of the Archconfraternity of the Carpen-
ters of St. Joseph have erected a lasting monument of these
tilings." - , . ,

224 The Victims of the Mamertine,

about the year 1725, shortly after the conse-
cration of the altar by Benedict XIII. : v

D. O. M.

Carcerem hunc Mainertinum,
Universo terrarum orbe celeberrimum.

In quo

Sanctissimi Apostoli Petrus et Paulus,

Neronis feritate novem et ultra mensibus detenti,

Processum et Martinianum, custodes,

Ac alios quadraginta septem, deinde martyres,

Prodigiosi subito exorti fontis aqua,

Ad haec usque tempora perenne pullulantis,

Nee ex frequent! haustu unquam decrescentis,

asperserunt. , - ..

,, ',..; Divus Sylvester Papa

Constantini magni precibus, iisdeni inecclesiam dicavit;

Et subinde Gregorius XIU.
Kalendis August! plena p!aculorum omn!um expiatione

perpetuo !ns!gnivit.
Ad carceris itaque celebritatem augendam, inter!oreni

arani reparatani,

BENEDICTUS XIII. P.M. ORD. PRAEDICATOR. '"

IV. idus Nov. MDCCXXVi. par! solemnitate consecravit.

Gubernator et uflic!ales

Archiconfraternitatis S. Joseph! Carpentariorum

aeternum tantorum operum monumentum apponi

, curarunt. ; ^

-t

The only objection we have found in what
we have read concerning this well is in the
guide-book generally used by English visit-
ors in Rome. Here the objecton raised is

The Miraculous WelL

225

le conse-

not against the extraordinary character, of
which the anonymous writer says nothing,
nor against the antiquity, but against the
origin which tradition has given it as one of
the miracles of St. Peter. The writer in the
'• Red Necessity," as Murray's Guide is face
tiously called by our Anglo-Saxon friends,
speaks thus of the well, and other pious
relics of the Mamertine: "The Church tra-
dition has consecrated this prison as the
place where St. Peter was confined by order
of Nero. The pillar to which he was bound
is shown, together with the fountain which
miraculously sprang up to enable him to
baptize his jailers. Processus and Martinia-
nus ; although it is distinctly alluded to by
Plutarch in the exclamation of Jugurtha,
when thrown into prison. On the side of
the descent into the lower prison, a curious
relic meets the eye — the impression of St.
Peter's head on the surface of the rock, driv-
en against it by his jailers, to recognize
which requires no small degree of devotional
credulity " (page 77).

There is an insinuation here which is not
fair. The writer must have known that he
was attacking a fact that has been sustained

'■|lil!
1, [

226 The Victims of the Mamertine,

by historians of weight, and one sacred in
the traditions of the people, sanctified by the
authority of the Church. By a vague, un-
substantiated assertion Hke this, he throws
ridicule on the historians that have proved
and sustained the tradition ; and unscru-
pulously casts a slur on the authority of the
Catholic Church, which allows nothing to
pass the sanctity of her zeal without the most
rigid scrutiny. If the writer in question had
a strong text against us, he would quote it
to our confusion. If there were any weight
in the difficulty he attempts to draw from
Plutarch, men of learning, of admitted probi-
ty and erudition, would give credit to the
doubt; but the objection is a silly one,
and we can only account for its absurdity
from the fact that the author of it was either
ignorant or malicious. Since he did not
give the text, we will give it for him, and let
those who are separated from the fold of the
Catholic Church read here one out of the
many absurd difficulties brought against her
mementos and traditions of the past.

Plutarch relates, when Marius had con-
quered the Cimbri and taken Jugurlha
prisoner, he brought this brave but cruel

The Miraculous Well,

227

general to grace his triumph at the capital
at Rome. As was customary, the state pri-
soners of war were handed over to the keep-
ers of the Mamertine to be executed. When
Jiigurtha was being cast into the lower pri-
son, he exclaimed : " V^y Hercules ! how
cold is your bath."

The text in Greek is: 'HpankU, elnev, gos
ipvxpoi^ vjAc5v TO /3a\v£iov."

Here the word ftaXvewv cannot mean any-
thing but bath. How a small well ten
inches wide could be called a bath we are at
a loss to know. How Jugurtha could have
fallen into it, impossible from its size and
position, for it is not under the opening
through which prisoners were cast into the
prison, we must leave for the author of the
objection to expound. We can easily under-
stand how a cold, dark, and damp hole, as
was the Mamertine, could be compared to an
unpleasant bath, especially as this word in
the Italian, derived from the Latin balneum,
has sometimes the signification of a filthy,
dirty recess.

Sallust, who wrote the history of Jugur-
tha and describes this prison accurately,
makes no allusion whatsoever to this foun-

J228 The Victims of the Mamertine.

tain, which he certainly would have done if
it were there in the time of Jugurtha. Not
one historian has mentioned it; and, with
the exception of this manifest contortion of
a sentence from Plutarch, there is no account
of this well until the first century of the
Christian era.

Moreover, it is probable this prison was
called in ridicule by the people of those
days, " Mamertine's bath." Cancellieri as-
serts this for a fact on the authority of an-
cient writers. Here are his words: " I find
it thus called in Publius Victor and Sixtus
Rufus, and also in Panciroli in his description
of the fourteen regions of the city with their
public and private edifices, reproduced in
1 65 1 by Labbe, and again by Muratori.
We have heard Jugurtha say, ' How cold is
your bath, Quirites,' perhaps because this
place was called thus ironically/' (" Forse
dair essere stato cosl chiamato ironicamente
quel sito.")*

Thus the reader may judge how unreli-
able are many similar assertions scattered
through the " Red Necessity." Moreover,
we will have occasion in this work to speak

* Cancellieri, " Notizie del Carcere Tulliano," page 41.

The Miraculous Will,

229

of several fountains in Rome of a miraculous
character, not mentioned in Murray's Guide.
With regard to the impression of a human
face in the stone wall of the prison, now seen
on the modern stairs descending to the lower
prison, there is a pious tradition that, through
the cruelty of one of the jailers, the head of
St. Peter was pressed against the wall, where
the hard stone, as if it were wax, received
the impression of his features. The stone
has been removed several times, and was
put in its present position when the altar was
consecrated by Benedict XIII. in the year
1726. It is covered with an iron grating,
and has these words in Italian, neatly printed
over it : " In questo sasso Pietro da di testa
spinto da sbirri et il prodigio resta." The
style of this inscription is of two or three
centuries past. There is another in Latin
which runs thus :

DUM IN INTERIOREM HUNC CARCEREM

B. PETRUS APOSTOLUS

NERONIS JUSSU CONTRUDITUR

CAPITE LAPIDI SATELLITUM IMPULSU

IMMANITER IMPACTO ;•

FACIEI VESTIGIUM STATIM IMPRIMITUR.

230 The Victims of the Mamertine, k

We can trace the tradition through the
last five centuries, but not further. All the
writers who treat of the relics and treasures of
Rome, speak of this impression of St. Peter
in the Mamertine ; amongst them the most
ancient are Panciroli, Torrigio, Piazza, Pauli-
ano, and others. With a good light the
features are easily discerned. If the tradi-
tion of this stone be true, and we have no
reason to doubt it, it gives us an insight into
the sufferings of the apostles ; to the horrors
of the prison ; we get an idea of the rude
treatment of the keepers, who were accus-
tomed to heap every indignity and insult on
the unfortunate being committed to their
brutal care.

.v.\

CHAPTER VI.

*'DOMINE. QUO VADIS?'

THE APPIAN. ;

ISTE viator ! " — once the mourn-
ful appeal read on a thousand
monuments, inviting the way-
farers of the Appian to read the
praises of the dead, who in the pride that out-
lived them would be known in their tombs,
is now the gentle whisper of the genius of
History to the pilgrim who tramples on the
green grass of the once famous Queen of
Ways —

" Qua limite noto
Appia longonim territur Regina Viarum "

— a stupendous monument of the old com-
monwealth, grander, more useful, and more
expensive than the aqueducts that stride the
Campagna on gigantic arches, dearer to the

232 The Victims of the Mamertine, >

Romans because it bore to their gates an
unbroken stream of wealth, of triumph and
fame, and was enriched with the mausoleums
and the memories of their mighty dead.
Here passed multitudes from distant climes,
pouring into the metropolis of nations. Em-
bassies vying with each other in the costli-
ness and singularity of their gifts, and splen-
dor of their retinues ; envoys from the remote
climes of India, with dusky faces and fore-
heads wreathed with silken turbans; astro-
logers from Chaldea ; merchants and magi-
cians, pagan priestr and sorcerers, from
Egypt; Asiatic monarchs upon elephants
caparisoned with jewelry and gold ; Moorish
kings and Parthian satraps, with squadrons
of wild horses, from beyond the Hydaspes
and Mount Atlasj >

" Pretors, proconsuls, to their provinces
Hasteiiing, or on return in robes of state,
Lictors with rods the ensigns of their power,
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wing." ♦

Here passed men of all colors, and costumes,
and degrees of civilization, from the Ethlop,
the Arab, and the Sarinatian to the Attic
Greek. The pomp, the chivalry, and stately

* " Rome as she was," etc.

" Domine, quo vadis f "

233

religion of the whole Roman world seemed
to be grouped together and interwoven in
that concourse as It marched along towards
the city gates, an august procession, bearing
the tributes and the offerings of all people to
the Queen of Empire and the domicile of the
orods.

Temples and tombs adorned with precious
marbles, with statuary and elegiac inscriptions,
lined the great thoroughfare on either side for
many a mile before it came to the massive
walls. As if Death had come out to welcome
the myriads hastening to his carnival, the
brave, the gay, and the ambitious in press-
ing forward were encountered b/ other pro-
cessions which issued forth towards the
suburbs in all the gloom and melancholy
pomp of the funeral to the tomb.

Twenty-one centuries of wreck and ruin
have passed over the Appian, and left it as
it was originally before Rome was built — a
portion of the Campagna. Vineyards are
cultivated and cattle graze where once stood
temples, and mansions, and mausoleums,
encrusted with marble and gold. Here
and there a broken wall covered with ivy,
a block of masonry that once was a tomb.

234 ^^^ Victims of the Mamertine, *

and now an asteria, a few lava-blocks cling-
ing together with exceptional tenacity in
the midst of a meadow of waving grass, are
all that is left us of the rich suburbs of the
world's metropolis. In the shapeless masses
of ruin that have been left of cities that
flourished three or four thousand years ago
we can trace temples, fortress walls, aque-
ducts, and tombs ; but so great has been the
annihilation and destruction on the Appian
rthat for several miles outside the city we
have not one vestige of its magnificent past.
In vain would Cicero ask the people of our
generation if the heroes who slept in such
gorgeous tombs were happy. '* An tu
egressus Porta Capena cum" Catilini, Scipi-
onum, Serviliorum, Metellorum sepulchra
vides, miseros putas illos?"* Not more
than a learned conjecture can now point out
the grass-covered mounds that once bore
those monuments. ...■■.:

'^ Tombs and temples overthrown and
prostrate; small fragments of columns, friezes,
pediments ; great blocks of granite and mar-
ble; mouldering arches, grass-grown and
decayed ; ruin enough to build a spacious

*'* Quest. Tusculanae/* i.

" DomtnCy quo vadis f "

'35

city from. Sometimes loose walls built up
from these fragments by the shepherds ;
sometimes a ditch between two mounds of
broken stones, obstructed our progress;
sometimes the fragments themselves rolling
from beneath our feet made a toilsome matter
to advance, but it was always ruin. Now
we tracked a piece of old road above the
ground, now traced it underneath a grassy
covering as if that were its grave, but all the
way was ruin. In the distance, ruined aque-
ducts went stalking on their giant course
along the plain, and every breath of wind
that swept towards us stirred early flowers
and grasses springing up spontaneously on
miles of ruin. The unseen larks above us,
who alone disturbed the awful silence, had
their nests in ruin ; and fierce herdsmen clad
in sheepskins, who now and then scowled
out upon us from their sleeping nooks, were
housed in ruin. The aspect of the desolate
Campagna, in one direction where it was
most level, reminded me of an American
prairie ; but what is the solitude of a region
where men have never dwelt to that of a
desert, where a mighty race have left their
foot-prints in the earth from which they have

236 The Victims of the Mamertine,

vanished ; where the resting-places of the
dead have fallen like their dead, and the
broken hour-glass of Time is but a heap of
idle dust ?

How often have the legions in triumphant
march gone glittering across that purple
waste, so silent and unpeopled now ! " *

God destroyed the city and temple of Je-
rusalem ; he ordered the plough to be drawn
over its foundations, not alone in punishment
of the perfidy of the Jews, but to symbolize
in their destruction the end of the typical law
and the commencement of the new covenant
foreshadowed in their rites. Thus he sent
the lightnings of heaven to destroy the
temples and tombs that were the pride of
pagan Rome. The plough has literally
passed over the site of those superb edifices
that first intimated to the traveller the idola-
try and superstition of the great city. " Thou
sawest, O king, till a stone was cut without
hands from a mountain, and it smote the
image on its feet that were of iron and clay,
and broke them to pieces. Then was the
iron, the clay, the brass, the silver, and the

* " Pictures from Italy."

" Domine, quo vadis f "

237

crold broken to pieces together, and became
like the dust of the summer threshing-floor."
(Dan. ii.)

II.

About a mile outside of the walls of modern
Rome, on the Appian, there is a little chapel
bearing the strange title of " Lord, where are
you going? " Humble and dilapidated, it is
in keeping with the solitude it breaks, but
the student of the past finds a halo of remi-
niscence around it, that makes it attractive
like its grand historic surroundings.

In the year 42 of Christianity, and 696 of
the city of Rome, there came by this spot on
the Appian two lonely wayfarers from the
East. They might have passed for father and
son. Threescore years and upwards seemed
to have passed over the old man's head. It
was bald or shorn on the crown, and encircled
by a fillet 01 wreath of hair, like to that of
his beard, which was crispy and of a silvery
gray. His brow was elevated, and he seemed
rapt in lofty thought. His cheeks were fur-
rowed ; his eye— vivid as the lightning —
was bloodshot, and indicated much weeping ;

238 The Victims of the Mamertine,

his aspect was pale, but a celestial shadow
of humility imparted an air of majesty. A
reed terminating in a cross was his only staff,
and that he seemed to carry rather as an
emblem of his mission than to alleviate his pil-
grimage or sustain .he infirmity of his years.
About him there was an air of mystery that
confounded the conjecture it excited. He
looked like an ambassador, the agent of some
mighty enterprise, some mysterious power,
yet who more destitute of everything that is
wont tjo distinguish an earthly potentate ?
Unheralded and unadorned by pomp, jaded
and travel-stained, he journeyed on with his
meek companion, barefooted and in silence.
If heeded, it was to be scoffed at or eyed
with contempt by the proud and gorgeous
multitudes thronging to the metropolis of all
nations. That old man who thus passes
unknown in the crowd on the Appian Way
is the great Apostle Peter ; his companion
is his faithful disciple and amanuensis St.
Mark.

We may have to record scenes more in-
teresting around the " Domine, quo vadis?"
but none more important. His coming
to Rome was one of the most remarkable

** Do. nine, quo vadis ? "

239

events in the history of the city — yea, in .the
history of the world — an event that cast its
shadow over the vicissitudes of milHons of the
human race and influenced their destinies in
eternity. The words of Pope Leo are full of
unction, and, as it were, congratulation to the
holy apostle on his coming to Rome :

"To this city, therefore, thou, O most
blessed Apostle Peter, didst not hesitate to
come. The colleague of thy glory, the
Apostle Paul, being still occupied in the ordi-
nation of other churches, thou, as it were
alone, didst venture into this forest of howling
monsters, displaying greater constancy by
embarking on the ocean of turbulent and
fathomless iniquity, than when thou didst
walk upon the waters. Already thou hadst
initiated in the faith those of the circumcision
who believed; already thou hadst founded the
Church of Antioch, where first rose the dig-
nity of the Christian name. Pciitus, Gala-
tia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia had al-
ready been filled, through thy preaching, with
subjects of the Christian law ; nevertheless,
without for an instant desponding of the en-
terprise's success or considering your ad-
vanced age and infirmities, you hastened to

1 I

240 The Victims of the Mamertine,

place the trophy of Christ crucified upon the
Roman Capitol, knowing well that there, by
divine preordination, there awaited thee the
honor of reigning over the Redeemer's king-
dom, and at the same time sharing in his
Passion." *

St. Peter will pass the same spot on the
Appian in twenty- five years afterwards, but
under very different circumstances.f

♦ Leo, " Serm., De Apost. Petro et Paulo."

f Although objections have been raised by religious fanatics
to 'jvery doctrine professed by the Catholic Church, from the
existence of Gud down to the ex-cathedra infallibility of the
Pope, yet some of the objections arc so absurd that in noticing
them we sink from the dignity of historical criticism and the
dictates of common sense ; we are like aged travellers who
pause on the roadside to contemplate the baby-houses that
have been built by children. Amongst such objections, we
undoubtedly place the miserable subterfuge of modern unbe-
lief, in the assertion that St. Peter never came to Rome. It
would be easier far to prove St. Augustine never came to
England. Although learned men have condescended in later
times to show up the sophisms by which this unblushing de-
nial is supported, we will pass it by in the contempt it de-
serves ; we will refer the reader . \o may wish to become more
acquainted with its absurdity to the work of Dr. Pearson,
Protestant Bishop of Chester, from whom we will quote but
one overwhelming sentence. " That St. Peter was at Rome,
is proved by Ignatius, disciple of St. John ; from Papias, an-
other disciple of the apostles ; from St. Dionysius of Corinth,
who might have seen St. John ; from St. Irenaeus, disciple of
St. Pol)'carp, disciple of St. John ; from Caius, a Roman priest
who flourished in the first half of the second century; from

** Domine, quo vadis ? "

241

jpon the
there, by
thee the
;r s king-
ig in his

;;ous fanatics
rcli, from the
libility uf the
at in noticing
icism and the
ravellers who
^'-houses that
bjeciions, we
lodern unbe-
,0 Rome. It
iver came to
nded in later
blushing de-
tempt it de-
ecome more
r. Pearson,
|ill quote but
-as at Rome,
Papias, an-
of Corinth,
disciple of
oman priest
intury; from

III.

The Mamertine was full of joy ; Martini-
anus and Processus have become Christians
and all the inmates of the various cells
have been regenerated by the waters of the
miraculous well. The news fled through the
city ; the Christians flocked to the prison to
kiss the chains of their beloved apostles, and
the dungeons resounded with subdued hymns
of praise. Tears of joy moistened their eyes,
and blessings were invoked from heaven on

Clement of Alexandria, Origan's preceptor; from TertuUian,
who wrote his Apology before the year 200 ; from Origen, Cj'-
prian, Lactantius, Eusebius, Athanasius, Epiphanius, Julian
the Apostate, Augustine, Palladius, etc. . . . Hence it is
wonderful — mivum itaqite — that there could be found any to
deny that Peter ever was at Rome." — Dissetiationes de Serie ei
Succession e Ptirnoriim Rom. Pont., chap. vii.

There was a public dispute on this question in Rome, a short
lime ago ; a challenge accepted by a few Roman priests more
for literary amusement, and to show up the Evangelicals, than
through fear the flimsy objections would have any weight with
the people. The Evangelicals, finding they were getting the
worst of the dispu'.e, had prepared at any risk to prevent a
second meeting. The priests, having heard that a disturbance
was premeditated, prudently retired from the contest, and the
foolish debate was abandoned.

iCusebius, " Eccl. Hist.," book ii. ch. xiv. ; St. Cyril of Je-
rusalem, " Catech." vi. p. 54 ; Irenajus, " De Haer.," book i.
ch. XX., TertuUian, "De Anima," ch. xxxiv. ; Theodoret,
" Hasr.," book i. ch. i. ; Justin M., " Apol."

242 The Victims of the Mamertine, -,

the noble guards, who, at the risk of their own
lives, bade the apostles leave the prison and
be free. The gates were thrown open, and
the people implored with tears that they
would fly ; but Peter refused to fly like a
coward, when the long-sighed-for triumph is
within his grasp. Gathering his faithful flock
near him, he addressed them in these words
(as we read in the Acts of this apostle, quoted
by the Bollandists, and supposed to be writ-
ten by Pope Linus) : " My children, do you
wish me to fly under the impulse of a base
fear ; to turn my back on Rome, and seek
safety in unknown lands beyond the sway of
the tyrant, and live to see him revel in the
decimation of my flock ? Is it becoming
that I, to whom our celestial Commander
has committed the banner of our spiritual
warfare, and now grown old in the ser-
vice, should show cowardice when the bat-
tle has commenced to rage around us ? It
was not thus that Stephen, the first flower of
the mysterious garden of the Church, fled for
shelter in the hour of danger. No, children,
I will stay and beard the tyrant in his wrath ! "
Yet history tells us the sobs of his people
moved the resolution of the aposde. There

" Do mi fie J quo vadis f "

243

was the aged Senator Prudeiis, who offered
him again the hospitaHty of his house ; there
was Petronilla, his daughter, and Prisca, and
Lucina, and a number of his much-beloved
flock, who lent the persuasive eloquence of
their tears to the reason urged by the priests
and deacons. Doubtless, being reminded that
Almighty God sent an angel to take him out
of prison on another occasioi , he allowed
himself to be persuaded it v/as "^ven now the
divine will he should be spared for further
labors in spreading the Gospel.

According to St. Ambrose, at the dead of
night, he left the gloomy dungeons of the
Mamertine, and hastened towards the Cape-

na gate.

He passed along through the silent and
abandoned streets. On every side were still
visible the traces of the burning of the city,
so unjustly laid as a crime to his flock ; the
mighty Coliseum and the triumphal arches
of Titus and Constantine were not yet
in existence ; but the golden house of
the tyrant Caesar, who wielded the sceptre
of the Empire, was rising in costly magni-
ficence on the slopes of the Palatine.
The apostle passed unmolested through the

244 T^f^^ Victims of the Afamcrtifte. .

Capena gate, and entered on the Appian
Way, which was even then beautiful in its
tombs and its temples ; not knowing, per-
haps, whither he was going, and thinking
what future generations would say of his
cowardice. Still in doubt, and pouring forth
his soul in prayer to God, he arrived at the
temple of Mars. '

Behold ! a light brighter than the sun
dazzles his eyes ; in a luminous cloud ht
sees the well-known figure of Jesus; the
Saviour is carrying his cross, and looks ami-
able ana mild as in the days of his humanity ;
he approaches ; the apostle, astounded, falls
on his knees, and cried out: *' O Lord I
where art thou ofoinir?" The sweet voice
of Jesus falls on his ears; slowly and solemn-
ly he heard our Saviour say: " To Rome, to
be crucified again." He then disappeared,
leaving the impression of his feet on one of
the slabs of the Appian Way.

Like one startled from a strange dream,
Peter sprang to his feet in wonder, and,
ashamed of his yelding, retraced his steps
immediately to the city. He knew well the
meaning of the vision ; and, with a heart
relieved from doubt, and cheered with the

" Dominet quo vadis ? "

245

prospect of immediate martyrdom, he pon-
dered over the mysterious words. Jesus go-
ing to Rome ! — that infamous city sunk in
every enormity of vice and idolatry ; harder
than the stones oi* the streets, and more per-
fidious than the Jews that crucified him. To
be crucified again ! O ineffable mystery
of love ! O unfathomable ocean of forgiv-
ing goodness! Jesus ready to undergo
aijain all the horrors of his crucifixion for the
love of man ! The thought melted the grate-
ful heart of Peter, and, with tears of devotion
and contrition flowing down their well-known
track on his furrowed cheek, he arrived at
the Mamertine to record to his flock the will
of God as it was made known to him on the
Appian Way.*

* Although there is some doubt amongst historians as to
the exact time in which this vision was given to St. Peter,
yet the fact is universally admitted. Some state that it was
immediately after the fall of Simon Magus. The Christians
^ncw the indignation of t!ic tyrant vould vent itself on the
Apostles, and probably those who were '* c domo Caesaris "
itself hastened with the information that the emperor had
given orders for their seizure, ind 'hen St. Peter, at the
exhortation and request of his flock, fled from the city, met
our blessed Lord, returned, was seized, i\nd cast into the
Mamertine. This version may also be tiikcn from St. Am-
brose, who relates this vision of St. Peter in his epistle
against Auxentius. The words of t' e holy doctor are:

246 The Victims of the Mamertine.

There is a fious belief that, when our
blessed Lord stood on the Appian Way in
the apparition to St Peter, he left the im-
pression of his sacred feet on one of the
stones of the road. A fac-simile of the im-
pression is shown in the little church at the
*' Domine, quo vadis ? " The original is sup-

" Peter, having conquered Simon, and spreading the pre-
cepts of God amongst the people, and teaching them to love
chastity, excited the pagan mind against him ; and since they
wished to seize him, he was prayed by the Christians to con-
ceal himself awhile ; that he would reserve himself for the fur-
ther instrucition and encouragement of the people. Although
desirous to suffer martyrdom, he )'ielded to the supplication of
the people. What more ? By night he passed the walls, and
at the gate he saw Christ coming towards him as if entering
the city. He said : 'Lord, where art thou going?' Christ re-
plied : • I am going again to be crucified.' Peter understood the
diviue reply to refer to his own cross. For Christ could not
be crucified again, for, having cast off the flesh by his death,
and being once dead, he lives, but lives to God. Peter
therefore understood that Christ was to be crucified again in
his servant. He willingly returned, and to the Christians
seeking the reason (of his presence once more amongst them)
he explained his vision, and, being immediately seized, he
glorified Jesus by his cross."

But all the Acts relating this vision place ii after his con-
finement in the Mamertine. Barcnius, St. Aiitonius, Cornelius
& Lapide, Bosius, and nearly all modern historians accept it
in this way as most probable. In alluding to the dispute, as
to the time this extraordinary vision was given to St. Peter,
W3 merely remind the reader that the fact itself bears some
historical truth, and is therefore more interesting and
instructive.

^* Domiite, quo vadis f *^ • 247

posed to be in the Church of St. Sebastian,
further on.

Although the fact is not mentioned in the
Acts that record the vision, yet it is given in
several other documents worthy of note. In
the Life of the apostles by Petrus de Natali-
bus, we find these words : " And when he
had come to the gate, to the place which is
now called S. Maria ad Passus, seeing Christ
coming towards him, he said : ' Lord, whither
art thou going ? ' who replied : ^ I am going
to Rome, to be crucified again.' He imme-
diately disappeared, and the impression of his
fcpf on the marble is still to be seen'' A con-
stant tradition has supported this extraordi-
nary relic, and even the little chapel erected
to commemorate this vision of our blessed
Lord has taken its name from this impres-
sion supposed to be left by him. In ancient
documents it is styled at one time " S. Maria
ad Passus" ; in another, " S. Maria de Plan-
tis"; and again, " S. Maria delle Palme."

In the year 1624, a general visitation and
enquiry into the churches and relics venerated
in Rome was instituted by the Hciy See.
In the Acts of this visitation, we read : " There
is a church here (the Appian Way) entided

248 The Victims of the Mamertine,

" Domine, quo vadis ? " or Santa Maria de
Plantis. It is so called because this is the
place where our Lord Jesus ChriSt met St.
Peter leaving the city, and replied that he
was going to Rome to be crucified, and there
also left the traces of his feet on the stones,
which is now preserved amongst the relics
in the Church of St. Sebastian, and in its
place there is an exact copy covered with
iron grating.'' * *

Arringhi, an author of immense research,
and whpse work is of decided authority in
matters of antiquity and tradition at Rome,
treating of a passage in the Acts of St. Se-
bastian, in which allusion is made to the im-
pression of footsteps and by error called
vestigia apostolotiim^ in conclusion adds :
" Porro apud omnes indubitatum est sacra-
tissima Christi pedum vestigia preememorato
lapidi tunc temporis impressa fuisse, cum
idem Dominus Apostolo Petro, qui Mamer-
tino e carcere se proripuerat custodibus ipsis
fugam patefacto ostio, suadentibus Via Appia,
videndum sese obtulit." f

■* Cancellieri, cap. xii. p. 69.

f Lib. iii. cap. xi. — It is undoubted amongst all that the most
hoiy impression of the feet of Cluist was left on that sione,

*' Domine, quo vadis ? "

249

In quoting these references about this extra-
ordinary relic, we do not profess to do more
than to show the existence of a pious tradi-
tion. We have* no authority for the rehc be-
yond what we gather from this source.

IV.

There is not around the venerable walls
of Rome a spot more remarkable in pagan
and ecclesiastical history than the little chapel
of the ** Domine, quo vadis ? " A circle of a
few hundred yards around this little capella
was the theatre of some of the most interest-
ing and remarkable events. It is memorable
for the vision accorded to St. Peter; the
scene of the martyrdom of several popes and
other Christians, and some of the most re-
markable miracles of the Christian era; its
reminiscences are wrapped around the in-
fancy of the Eternal City itself, following
its varied history through centuries of war
and bloodshed; at one time the scene of
heroism and bravery ; at another, dishonored
with the excesses of the most degraded idola-

when, his guards having opened the prison gates and persuad-
ed him to fly, he met him on the Applan Way.

250 The Victims of the Mamertine,

try. It is so intimately connected with the
history of the Mamertine, it will be a pardon-
able digression to pause for a moment amidst
its hallowed memories. •

A short distance from the church popular
opinion has for centuries placed the valley
and fountain of Egeria, where Numa, '' a
princely hypocrite" as our Shakespeare would
call him, seven hundred and sixteen years
before Christ, was wont to repair for noc-
turnal conferences with this benignant god-
dess. \% was this king gave the impulse of re-
ligious enthusiasm that ever afterwards twined
with the history of the empire. He estab-
lished the pontiffs' augurs, the salii, and other
orders of the priesthood. By him the year
was divided into twelve months, the auspi-
cious were distinguished from the ill-omened
days, and the ancilia, or sacred bucklers, de-
vised as so many talismans of empire. He
likewise instituted the two-faced Janus —
pledge ot peace and war; and the fire of
Vesta, which like the stars of heaven was
supposed to keep eternal vigil over the des-
tinies of Rome, and to be tended by conse-
crated virgins. To render these institutions
more sacred in the eyes of his rude subjects.

" Domine, quo vadis f "

251

he pretended that they had been revealed to
him by Egeria, the goddess of this foun-
tain.

No art was spared by this monarch and
those who succeeded him to impress the
popular mind with religious awe ; with a pro-
found veneration for oaths, omens, and re-
sponses ; with the conviction that religion
was paramount to every other influerxe and
interest ; that nothing, however exalted, was
exempt from its jurisdiction ; and that no-
thing, either in peace or war, in private or
public transactions, could be entered on or
ratified legitimately but under its auspices.
Every page in Roman history affords a proof
of the complete success of this system. Those
who have studied the causes of Roman great-
ness most profoundly are unanimous in
assigning the first place to the strong religi-
ous reverence and enthusiasm by which the
people were thus combined in one sacred
league of patriotism which nothing could dis-
organize, vanquish, or resist, and by which
the patricians, who ever kept this engine in
their own hands, were able to wield and di-
rect the resistless force of the democracy ; so
that Numa, rather than Romulus, deserves to

252 The Victims of the Mamertine,

be regarded as the true founder of Roman
greatness.

The secluded grotto with its ever- flowing
fountain* moss-covered and green, where
Numa planned the stupendous scheme of
pagan worship, is still shown in this vicinity,
and thus described by the inimitable Byron :

" Egeria ! cweet creation of some heart
Which found no mortal restiiig-place so fair
As thine idea' breast; whate'er thou art ^v

Or wert — a young Aurora of the air,
The nympholepsy of some fond despair;
Or, it might be, a beauty of the earth,
Who found a more than common votary there
Too much adoring- ; wiiatsoe'er thy birth,
Thou wert a beautiful thought, and softly bodied
forth, .,..-.. 1-.

"The mosses of thy fountain still are sprinkled
With thine Eiysian water-drops ; the face
of thy cave-guarded spring, with 3'ears unwrinkled,
Reflects the meek-eyed genius of the place,
Whose green, wild margin now no more erase
Art's works ; nor must the delicate waters sleep,
Prisoned in marble; bubbling from the base
Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap

The rill runs o'er; and round, fern, flowers, and
ivy creep ...

* Modern antiquarians cast well-founded doubts as to the
identity of this fountain with that of Egeria. However, the
place is remarkable and popular, and ij much frequented on
account of its antiquity, it lies in the valKy, a few hundred
yards behind the " Domiuc, quo vadis ? "

*' Domine^ quo vadis ? "

253

" Fantastically tangled ; the green hills
Are clothed with early blossoms ; through the

grass
The quick-eyed lizard rustles, and the bills
Of summer birds sing welcome as ye pass ;
, Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class,
Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes
Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass ;
The sweetness of the violet's deep-blue eyes,
Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems colored by
its skies."

Near this spot was fought a strange battle,
on which the fate of a free kingdom was de-
cided in an hour, and with the loss of five
lives. From the roof of the church, in the
direction of the classic tomb of Metella, you
see a green plain ; there the memorable bat-
tle between the Horatii and Curatii was
fought. Martial writes :

'* Capena grandis porta qua pbftit gutta,
Prygiumque matris almo qua lavat ferrum,
Horatiorum qua viretsacer campus,
Et qua pusilli servet Herculis fanum."

The history of this scene, which passed
several centuries before the Christian era, pro-
poses to the boasted progress of our days the
power of settling national disputes by blood-
less battles. If the forbearance and heroif
conduct of the rude, idolatrous nations tha'

254 The Victims of the Mamertine,

assembled on this plain to settle their dis-
putes were adopted as the principle of battle
amongst modern nations, how much evil
would be spared to man ! The widow's
tears and ophan's cry, the burnt cities, and
desolated land, and awful ruin that dog the
bloody track of war, would not then be the
darkest page in the list of human sorrows.

On a plain in sight, Coriolanus had cast
his tents, and here transpired that scene of
maternal triumphal and filial affection that
saved Rome from the revenge of her bravest
and greatest general. A temple, dedicated
to " Fortuna Feminile," commemorated the
event, and was for centuries one of the or-
naments and monuments that lined the
Appian at this spot.

Here Milo slew Clodius, whose defence
gave birth to that sublime oration of the im-
mortal Cicero. " Had you spoken as you
have written," wrote the exiled Milo, "I
would not now be condemned to eat the
fish of Marseilles." •-

A few yards from the " Domine, quo
vadis ? " is the famous Almo stream of which
Ovid sings :

" Domine, quo vadis f" 255

" Est locus in Tiberini qua lubricus influit Almo.
Et magno nonien perdit in amne minor,
Illic purpurea canus cum veste sacerdos,
Almonis Dominam sacra que lavitaquis."

The allusion in the last line refers to a re-
markable pagan ceremony that took place
every year on the 1 7th of March at the little
bridge of the Almo on the Appian Way.
This day was sacred to Cybele, the mother
of all the gods ! They carried the statue of
the goddess from her temple on the Palatine
with great pomp and ceremony to this spot.
The people assembled in numbers and
brought flowers and fruits, dressed in holiday
attire, each bearing the insignia of position
or tide ; they danced and shouted the whole
way, whilst some recited for their friends
original verses in honor of the god that
pleased liim most. The pagan priests, called
Galfi, were entrusted with the care of this
ceremony ; they were old and venerable
men, gorgeously dressed in purple and gold,
who carried the statue in turn, and walked
barefooted the whole way. And what was
the end of all this pomp and display ? They
washed the mother of all the gods in the
stream, and then returned to the city.

256 The Victims of the Mamcrtiiie,

St. Augustine describes this ceremony in
his *• City of God," and, filled with holy indig-
nation, cries out: "Qua} suntsacrilegiasi ilia
sacra ; aut qua; inquinatio si ilia lavatio ? " *

TertuUian, also, in his fourth "Apology,"
writes thus: "Lavatio Deum matris est
hodie ; sordescunt enim Dii et ad sordes elu-
endas lavantibus aquis opus est atque ad-
junctis cirenis perifrictione."

Not more absurd was the procession of
the Manual Stone, which was left' by the
Temple of Mars, and carried into the city in
time of great drought. A similar procession
was formed. They passed around the Capi-
tol, and then returned with the stone, leaving
it in its place till required for another of these
absurd exhibitions.

Amongst the temples around this spot, we
notice one entitled " To the Goddess of the
Tempest." The idea is a sublime one, but
what sort of being she appeared to the an-
cients, we are at a loss to conjecture. We
can fancy this amiable queen of the storms
sitting on a throne of luminous clouds near
the setting sun, holding court with the winds

*" W^liat are sacrileges if those things be sacred; what is
defilement if that be a piuification ?" — Lib, ii. cap. iv.

" Domine, quo vadis f "

257

that are to sweep the deep. Invoked from
some frail bark struggling for existence, she
divides the storm and gives a free channel to
the object of her protection. Such was the
idea of M. Marcellus, who erected this temple;
he was saved from a watery grave in a storm,
and in gratitude built a superb monument
to the Goddess of the Tempest. The Church
of St. Sebastian now stands on the site of this
temple.

Ovid writes of this temple :

"Lux eadem Marti eadem facta est quam prospicit
extra
Apposituni tectae Porta Capena Viae,
Te quoque tempestas merituin deluibra fatemur
Cum pene est Corsis obruta classis aquis."

Here, also, were the temples of Honor and
Virtue, ideas of something lovely and beau-
tiful far away in the mysterious entity of the
spiritual world ; their existence proves there
is something in the human heart, no matter
how depraved or lost in the cloud of super-
stition, that makes it yearn for its true source
of happiness; but honor and virtue amongst
the pagans were but brilliant moral crea-
tions, which resemble those beautiful porticos
and palaces that rise in the ice-bound polar

258 The Victims of the Mamertine,

seas under the cold ray that gilds their sur-
face ; they glisten with all the brightness of
the diamond, while in reality they are nothing
but — ice !

The temple of Ridiculus, or Ridicule,
which stood near this spot on the Appian,
\/as a curious monument to commemorate
the retreat of Hannibal from the walls of
Rome. It was the pride of a defeated peo-
ple, of a nation in the throes of dissolution,
erected this temple to declare that the enemy
who dared to aspire to the possession of the
Roman capital was a votary of the god who
loves the ridiculous. It was the same spirit
that made them set up for auction in the
Forum the very field on which Hannibal had
cast his camp on the banks of the Anio.
Under the policy of Fabius, " qui cunctando
restituit," and Scipio, who brought the tide
of war to the gates of Carthage, Hannibal
was recalled, when he was almost about to
seize the prize for which he was seventeen
years fighting. They say it was on this spot
he took his last look at the city, and flung
his javelin and his curse towards the walls of
Rome. "Ridiculi Fanum," writes Sextus
Pompeius, " extra portam Capcnam fuit quia

" Domine, quo vadis ? "

259

accedens ad urbem Hannibal ex eo loco redierit
quibusdam perterritis visis."

The most celebrated of these temples on
the Appian Way, erected to the gods of
paganism, was that erected by Silla about
eighty years before the Christian era, and
dedicated to Mars. This was a sumptuous
edifice, built on one hundred columns of mar-
ble, and adorned with all the extravagance
and splendor so recklessly lavished on the
buildings of those days. Allusion has -been
made to this splendid temple by several poets.
Cicero writes: "Roma et maxime Appia
ad Martis mira proluvies." '^ And Livy
relates with a silly air of creduliLy how
two consuls, Cn. Servilius and Flaminius,
saw the statue of the god placed in this
temple perspire profusely, so that large drops
of perspiration fell to the ground.f

The exact position of this temple is some-
what disputed, but we take the authority of
the most ancient antiquarians, as also Arringhi
and Panciroli, in placing it exactly where the
litde Church of the " Domine, quo vadis?"
now stands. Piazza writes thus : " Famoso
egli e neir Istorie Ecclesiastiche e Gentili

*Eijis. xxiii. lib. iv. t Livy, dccad. i. lib. vii.

26o The Victims of the Mamertine, •

questo sito ; dovegid tonvengono gli Antiquari
che foi:oe il celebre tempio di Marte Gradivo,
sostenuto da cento colonne, ove il Senato
Romano dava udienza a gli ambasciadori di
gente nemica; e perche da Marte riconosce-
vano tutte le vittorie ottenute, cinsero di molte
palnie il tempio." *

Thereforv^, some of the greatest and most
interestinof miracles recorded in the Acts of
the Martyrs took place at this spot. Thrice
it was struck by the lightning of heaven, at
the prayers of the holy pontiffs, Cornelius,
Stephen, and Sixtus. Almost under the
shadow of its stately palm-trees, those pon-
tiffs and a great number of Christians were
executed. They were sent from the city to
offer sacrifice to the god Mars ; so that, if
they refused, they might be put to death on
the spot, as it was the custom to have male-
factors executed outside the walls. We will
glance at a few thrilling anecdotes that will

* ** This place is famous in ecclesiastical and gentile histo-
ries; where all antiquarians agree was the celebrated temple of
Mars Gradivus, supported on a hundred columns of maibie;
where llie lioni;in Senate used to give audience to liie an, bis-
sadors of hostile nations, and because from Mars tliev recog-
nized all iheir victories they surrounded the temple with many
palm trees." — Piazza, " Hieron.enia," p. 146.

" Domine, quo vadls ? "

261

instruct and amuse, and at the same time
prove our assertion that the little Church of
the ** Domine, quo vadis ? " has some strange
and hallowed reminiscences around it.

During the dreadful persecution that
raoed over the Church, we find three of the
successors of St. Peter were martyred either
on the spot where now stands the Church of
the " Domine, quo vadis ? " or close to it. In
the Acts of the Martyrs, the temple of Mars
is frequently mentioned ; the Christians were
brought here to sacrifice, and, refusing, were
invariably martyred. Cornelius with twenty-
one others was martyred in the very vesti-
bule of the temple. Also the litde Lucilla,
the daughter of Nemesius. On a little hill a
few yards apart were martyred Sixtus and
his companions, Nemesius Tarsicius, and in
the Catacombs hard by the holy Pope Ste-
phen. The following passages from the
Acts of the Martyrs speak for themselves:

" Cerealis, to whose care Cornelius was
committed, asked the holy Pope to come into
his house and visit his wife, whose name was
Sallustia, lying fifteen years a paralytic.
Cornelius came to his house, bringing with
him two priests and an acolyte. Having en«

262 The Victims of the Mamcrtine. ,^

tered the sick-room, he prayed thus : 'Lord
God, creator of everything visible and invisi-
ble, who deignest to come to us sinners to
save us, raise this afflicted servant and show
her thy mercy, as thou hast given sight to
the blind to recognize thy glory.'

" Approaching the couch, and holding the
hand of Sallustia, he said, * In the name of
our Lord Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and
stand on thy feet,' who immediately arose,
crying out, ' Truly Christ is God, and the
Son of God ! ' Then she said to Cornelius,
* I conjure thee by Christ to baptize me.'
And hastening they brought a vessel of
water to him. The soldiers, likewise, who
were under Cerealis, seeing this miracle,
cast themselves at the feet of the Pope and
begged to be baptized. Cornelius, seeing the
hand of God in all this, baptized them, and
offered for them the Sacrifice of Praise, and
they partook of the body and blood of Christ.
The emperor, hearing what had happened,
sent and had the whole house of Cerealis
seized, together with the soldiers that were
baptized, and they were brought with the
blessed Cornelius to offer sacrifice to the
gods. They were conducted outside the

" Domine^ quo vadis ? "

263

walls through the Appian gate to the temple
of Mars ; but they, refusing to sacrifice, and
spitting at the temple, were beheaded in the
vestibule of the temple, with the holy Pope,
to the number of twenty-one ; with them were
martyred Cerealis and his wife Sallustia, on
the 1 8th calends of October."

Two years after, we find another strange
event recorded in the Acts of Pope Stephen :
*' Then the blessed Stephen, having been led
out of the city on the Via Appia, when he
had come to the temple of Mars, he said,
lifting his eyes to heaven : * Lord God and
Father, who didst destroy the tower of con-
fusion at Babylon, destroy this place, in
which the devil deludes the people with su-
perstition.' It then began to thunder, and
lightning in flashes struck the temple, which
fell in part ; and, the soldiers having fled,
Stephen, who remained alone, went with his
attendant priests and deacons to the neigh-
boring cemetery of Lucina,* where he en-
couraged the Christians to martyrdom by
many exhortations. After this he offered
sacrifice to the Omnipotent God. The sol-
diers who were sent in pursuit found him in

* St. Callistus.

264 The Victims of the Mamertine.

the act of celebrating the holy sacrifice ; but,
"without being terrified, h^ continued intre-
pidly to pursue the mysteries he had com-
menced, until they struck off his head, as he
sat in the pontifical chair before the altar, on
the fourth nones of August. Great was the
lamentation of the Christians at being de-
prived of so great a pastor, and they interred
his body, with the chair drenched with his
blood, in the same crypt, in the place called
the cemetery of Callistus.*

The jUext day near this spot, on the Appian
Way, took place one of the most glorious
martyrdoms we have on record, that of the
youth Tarsicius, who died in defence of the
Blessed Sacrament.

He was commissioned to carry the sacred
particles to some sick person in the city. On
his way he met some pagan soldiers, who, no-
ticing he carried something under his mantle,
wished through curiosity to know what he
had concealed. The brave youth resisted,
and the more he struggled the more in-
creased their curiosity and determination to
see his treasure. With sticks and stones they
ill-treated the noble youth - ntil they killed

. * See Baronius, an. 260.

*' Domine, quo vadis ? "

265

him, then, opening his hands and garments,
behold ! there was nothing. The Blessed
Sacrament had disappeared. Leaving his
dead body on the road, they fled in terror.*

How terrible were those days when an un-
offending youth might be murdered for the
gratification of a sacrilegious curiosity ! Pope
Damasus commemorates this brave youth in
the following beautiful lines :

" Par meritum quicunque legis ,

Cognosce duorum
Quis Damasus Rector titulos j.

Post praemia reddit.
Judaicus populus Stephanum

Meliora monentem
Perculerat saxis, tulerat

Qui ex hoste trophaeum
Martyrium, prjmus rapuit

Levita fidelis
Tarsiciuni sancti Christi

Sacramenta gerentem,
Cum male sanus r«anus peteret

Vulgare profanis,

* " At ille indignum judicans poicis prodere niargaritas ne-
quaquam voluit detegere sacrosancta mysteria, quem fustibus
et lapidibus tamdiu mactaverunt quousque exhilaret spiritum;
rcvolutoque ejus exanimecorpore nihil potuerunt in ejus mani-
bus vestimentisque reperiri sacrilegi discussores ; relictoque
ejuscorpore cum terrore fugerunt." — At the end of the Acts of
St. Stephen, BoUandists.

266 Thi Victims of the Mamertine,

Ipse an imam potius voluit

Dimittere caesu,?,
Prodere quam can)bus rabidis

Coelestia membra."*

The holy Pope S"xtu3, Palmatius, and
Tertull: aij \/ -v^ io executed here for the
faith, but at they were also victims of the
Mamertine we reserve ihem for special no-
tice,

V. ■■•

Thehe are none of the minor rites so well
known amongst Catholi.-3 as the use of Holy-
Water. It is possible we can trace its origin
and use to this spot on che Appian Way.
Holy Water was introduced by Pope Alex-
ander in the third century, from a peculiar
pagan custom, connected with a fountain of
Mercury erected close to the temple of Mars.
The Romans came here in great numbers and
in procession on the fifteenth of May, every
year, and, sprinkling themselves with laurel
branches with the water of this fountain, be-
lieved they thereby gained pardon for sins of
perjury and injustice.f

* Arringhi, lib. iii. cap. xi.

f Piazza," Emerologio Sacro" ; also Martinelli, Donatus,and
others.

*' Domine, quo vadis ? "

267

This is an important and strange fact. It
is I he only 'nstance we hav^. in history that
pi; ^ans sought forgiveness for sins. Its
striking ana'og^ to the Catholic use of Holy
Water has led some writers to belie.ve the
latter had its origin in the pagan custom.

Although we have no historical proof of
the transition here suggested, we see no
grounds for a charge in admitting a pagan
Oiigin to a Christian custom. All things
have been made for the glory of God. If
tney have been abused, it is conformable to
reason to brinof them back to their oriorinal
purpose. The sun, moon, and trees have
been worshipped as pagan deities ; there are
at least forty churches in Rome built on the
ruins of pagan temples ; there are convents,
where holy and chosen souls consecrate them.-
selves to God with the vow of virginity, that
were erected from the lupanars of the an-
cient baths. Are they all to be condemned as
unfit any longer to give glory to God because
once desecrated by the folly of paganism?
Then should the cross cease to be the em-
blem of our hopes, the ornament of our faith,
because once the punishment d*f crime ; and
the gold of idols cast away as cursed and

268 The Victims of the Mamertine,

worthless metal. But it was the prudence of
the Catholic Church in the commencement
to purify rather than annihilate the customs
of paganism, not to tear them suddenly from
practices that usage had endeared, but rather
to change the motive of the celebration, and
to consecrate to the glory of God what was
heretofore given to superstitious and idola-
trous wors^-ip. Thus, for the processions of
the pagans, where they carried the statues
of their false gods, the Church had the cru-
cifix, on an image of the Blessed Virgin, or
some sain^ : the games in honor of the gods
were turned into feasts in honor of the mar-
tyrs. In the first ages, the habits of the
people acquired in infancy and the local cus-
toms formed immense obstacles to the pro-
gress of the faith ; but, under the prudence of
the apostles and their sainted successors,
everything that was lawful was conceded to
the national prejudice ; what could not be
well abolished was purified and preserved ;
thus the peculiar superstitions of every people
under the sun were changed and sanctified,
calmly and stealthily cast into the groove of
Catholic thought. The majestic oaks which
lent their shade to the idolatrous ceremonies

^* Domine^ quo vadis ? "

269

of paganism were not felled, but in the hollow
of their trunks v;hich the rain had excavated
was placed the image of some saint. A cross
surmounted the Druidical fountain, and the
people naturally invoked the intercession
of a martyr where before they adored the
genius of the fountain or the grove. The
instructions of Gregory the Great are a
masterpiece of prudence. " Tell Augustine/'
writes the aged Pontiff, " the result of my
long reflections on the conversion of the
English. We must not destroy the temples
of their idols, but only the idols themselves;
bless the enclosure, purify it, construct altars,
and enrich them with relics. These temples
are jusdy taken from the service of demons
and transferred to that of the true God.
Then the people, seeing their temples re-
spected, will be the better disposed to abjure
their ancient errors, and, acknowledging the
true God, will continue to frequent the accus-
tomed places. I am informed they are in
the habit of immolating oxen in honor of
their gods ; some change must be made in
these solemnities. On the anniversary day
of the consecration of a church or the birth
of a martyr, let tents be made with the

270 The Victims of the Mamertine.

branches of trees that are around the ancient
temples now become the houses of the true
God ; and let feasts be celebrated of a religi-
ous character, that the people may no longer
immolate their oxen to the demons, but to the
true God, and thus render thanks to the di-
vine Dispenser of all gifts for the blessings
they enjoy. In thus condescending some-
what to them we shall render them more
docile to the interior joys of religion, and it
would be impossible to destroy their ancient
custom^ all at once. If you wish to gain a
lofty summit, you must mount by successive
and slow steps, and not defeat your purpose
by too adventurous leaps." *

VI.

We may yet quote from a wider and dark-
er page of history, and give reminiscences of
a more thrilling character, wrapping a halo of
deeper veneration around the '* Domine, quo
vadis?" Here are the Catacombs of St.
Callistus !

* " Fliuirs de Ceil," Orsini, p. 114. " Letters of Pope Grego.
ry to Melitus, Saxon missionary."

" Dominey quo vadis ? "

271

The little church stands over the very
heart of these catacombs. What volumes
could we not fill with the touching records
of those homes of the martyred dead ! On
a slab that has been placed at the entrance of
these catacombs, about two hundred years
ago, we read that grace can be obtained from
God, " through merits of one hundred and
seventy-four thousand martyrs, with forty-six
popes, who are here buried in peace." *

Can any other place on earth boast of such
a treasure ? These catacombs are not only
the largest, but the most remarkable about
Jlome. They extend through a circuit of six
or seveii miles, "branching out into such an
infinity of passages," says Bosio, who spent
thirty years in the study of them, " and
broken and subdivided into what may be
termed streets and lanes, winding about and
crossing and recrossing one another, that
a perfect labyrirth is formed, and that of such
immensity that those b}. whom they have

* " Per merita gloriosa centum septuaginta quatuor millium
Sanctorum Martyrum una cum quadraginta sex summis ponti-
ficibus quorum ibi .corpora in pace sepulta sunt." — From in-
scriptions on one of the slabs at the entrance of the Catacombs
of St. Sebastian. The Catacombs of St. Sebastian were consid-
ered part of those of St. Callistus when this slab was erected

{

272 TAc Victims 0/ the Mamertine.

been explored compare them not to one but
to many cities." *

The original excavations were extended
by the Christians so as to be able to escape
from one catacomb to another ; they bur-
rowed down, still forming catacomb below
catacomb, like the successive stages or stories
of a house, as if driven by persecution into
the very bowels of the earth. Those dreary
crypts became for the Christians not only
their cemeteries, but their churches, and — we
shudder J in sympathy — their very dwellings.
Here they received instruction, heard the
Gospel preached, sang the divine office, and
participated in the dread sacrifice of the

* Bosio died before he completed his work. His MBS. were
placed in the hands of Severano by Cardinal Barberini, libra-
rian of the Vatican. He added some observations of his own,
but still left the work incomplete; it was finally completed
and published b}' Arringhi in two splendid volumes, en-
titled "Roma Soiteranca." It is a work of immense treas-
ure ; the plates alone are invaluable — they are executed by a
master-hand, and are perfect fac-similes of paintings, sarcopha-
gi, ampuUi, and other relics of the catacombs, no longer to be
seen in the originals, the passages leading to them being
closed to avoid the imminent danger to human life they afford-
ed. It is Si\id that a whole division of students were thus lost
in thos3 catacombs. The guide having missed his way, each
new turn cast them deeper into the maze of the labyrinth, and
they never appeared again amongst the living. See Boldetti
also Peliicia.

*' Domiiie, quo vadis?**

273

altar, and, as the only place safe from the
fury of persecution that raged in the world
above, they ate, slept, and lived, and even
children were born, in their cold, gloomy
chambers. " Pope Liberius dwell about three
miles from the city," says Anastasius, " in
the cemetery of Novella and near to that of
Ostrianus, where Peter used to baptize."

" While at Rome in my boyhood," says
St. Jerome, '* I used often of a Sunday go
about with my school-fellows visiting the
tombs of the apostles and the martyrs, fre-
quently entering crypt after crypt, having
the relics of the dead on either side of the
long, dark galleries, so dismal as to force that
saying of the prophet on one's memory,
' They shall go down alive into the region
of death ; ' the few foramens, or air-holes,,
here and there overhead only making dark-
ness visible, and reminding you of Virgil's
line :

' Horror ubique animos simul ipsa silentia terrent.' "

The cruelty and injustice of the persecu-
tors, who forced the poor Christians *• to go
down alive into the region of death," made
them even draw from the catacombs a deep-

274 The Victims of the Mamertine,

er aversion against them, and gave addition-
al zest to the cry for their extermination.
The sand-pits, sanctified by the Christians,
were filled to the pagan mind v^^ith revolting
recollections. They were long the haunts
of the murderer, the malefactor, and evil-
doer — scenes of many a dark treason against
life and innocence — damp, fetid, and dismal,
having their eatrances choked up with
every filth, and not unfrequently with the
skeletons and rottening carcasses of slaves, or
the hapless victims of lawless violence ; and,
consequently, when the Christians took pos-
session of them, purified them, and made them
cemeteries, their impious slanderers called
them ** a crew of conspirators, fond of dark-
ness, lurking in dens, and afraid of the light."
This accusation rolled on the stream of
time to the ears of the eloquent Basil. In a
burst of holy indignation he treats it thus :
" * Et tenebrosa et lucifugax natio ! ' — * Fur-
tive and afraid of the light ! ' Do they mean
Christianity ? That mysterious emanation
from the * splendor of the Father,' whose
word caused effulgence to burst forth from
darkness, and who has flung its lustrous
beauty over all that he has created, from

" Doinine, quo vadis ? "

275

the crested billow, enamelled with the rain-
bow brilliancy, to the heavens that tell his
glory in hymns of radiance — why should this
celestial visitant hold in abhorrence or appre-
hension that bright and glowing benediction,
which it was her own chief errand to bring
to those who * sat in darkness * ? "

VII.

DISCOVERIES OF DE ROSSI.

For ten centuries the Catacombs of St. Cal-
listus were forgotten ; it was a popular opin-
ion that they weie but a continuation of those
of St. Sebastian, or ad Calacumbas, further
on the Appian Way ; but the investigations
made by De Rossi have led him to believe
they are perfectly distinct. The discoveries
made by De Rossi throw light on some
important questions of history. His account
of how he first found them is very inter-
esting.

In 1849, he chanced to find in the cellar
of a vineyard ow the Via Appia, about a
quarter of a mile nearer to Rome than the
Catacombs of St. Sebastian, a fragment of

276 The Victims of the Mamertine, f

a monumental stone, having on it the upper
part of the letter R, followed by the complete
letters NELIUS . MARTYR. With one
of those conjectures in which he is so happy
— if conjectures they can be called, when we
take into account how thoroughly versed he
is in the lore of his science — he divined it to
belong to the grave of St. Cornelius, Pope,
and Martyr of the third century. He forth-
with induced Pius IX. to purchase the vine-
yard, and set to work diligently with his ex-
cavations. Soon he came across the other
half of the same slab lying at the foot of the
grave to which it belonged. He could now
read, "Cornelius Martyr," with the affix
" EP " inscribed underneath. This was
enouofh to convince him that he had found
the cemetery of St. Callistus ; for he knew
from his guides — the ancient records and
writings of the Fathers — that the tomb of St.
Cornelius was hard by. Not far off he found
a small piece of stone, evidently part of an
inscription put up by Pope Uamasus, the
great adorner of the catacombs of the fourth
eenlury, for it consisted of the letter H three
tirae^. Toeated one rbove the other, the
cljar 'ctcrs being those known to arch:tolo-

^* Domine, quo vadisf

277

gists as the Damasine. In course of time all
the fragments of the slab were collected, but
so small were the pieces that it looked like
one of those puzzles given in pieces to children,
that they might exercise their ingenuity in
putting each fragment into its own place;
but De Rossi succeeded, and the inscription of
the gifted Pontiff read thus :

" Hie congesta jucent quaeris si turba piorum,
Corpora Sanctorum retinent veneranda sepulchra,
Sublimes animas rapuit sibi regia coeli,
Hie comites Xysti portant qui ex hoste tropaea,
Hie nurr.jrus procerum servat qui altaria Christ!,
Hie confessores sancti quos Graecia misit,
Hie juvenes puerique senes eastique nepotes,
Quis mage virginum placuit retinere pudorem,
Hie fateor Damasus volui mea condere membra,
Sed cineres timui Sanetos vexare piorum."

But the most important and interesting
discovery made by De Rossi was that in
which he has proved the substantial accuracy
of the history of St. Cecilia. The criticisms
of the last century consigned the Acts of this
illustrious virgin martyr to the regions of
fable, but the valuable result ot recent dis-
covery is a striking proof of what mistakes
we may make by too hastily condemning the
records of antiquity because of apparent in-

2 78 The Victims of the Mamertine,

consistencies, and how much reliance after
all may be placed upon ecclesiastical tradi-
tions which the incredulous characterize as
idle legends elevated to the standard of his-
tory.

Cecilia was a girl of high birth, brought
up from her infancy in the Christian religion.
She had consecrated her virginity to God,
but, when bidden to unite herself in marriage
with an amiable and wealthy young patrician
named Valerian, she did not refuse, having
received a divine intimation to obey the pa-
rental commands, and assuring her, at the
same time, (hat both she and her spouse
should retain their virginity and shed their
blood for the faith. The following passage
from the Acts relative to the conversion of
Valerian brings us back once more to a scene
that passed near the " Domine, quo vadis?"

Cecilia spent her time in prayer and fast-
ing, not yet knowing how she should escape
her engagement with Valerian. She even
wore a hair-cloth under the rich and golden
garments which her parents obliged her to
wear on account of her noble position.* Full

* "Cecilia aatem in came induta cilicio, extrinsecus aiireis
liiduta erat vestibur,." — Acts^ Sutlus, November 22.

** Domine, quo vadis ? "

279

of confidence in God, she nevertheless de-
ferred from time to time To inform Valerian
of her desire to live chaste, and of the
vow :-.he had offered to Heaven. At length
the evening before the wedding-day arrived
Great preparations were made for the fes-
tivities ; musicians were gathering ; bouquets
of flowers, blooming and fragrant, were sent
with congratulations from admiring friends ;
wedding gifts and costly ornaments, which
the holy virgin despised. Like a dove trem-
bling in its cote when the hawk is nv n ,
Cecilia retired to her room full of trepidation
and fear, and earnestly prayed that God
would make known his will. She received
an answer ; her angel guardian was near, and
bade her how to act.

Night came on. A solemn stillness had
now taken the place of the noise and bustle of
the household ; the guests had retired to rest,
amongst them Valerian, who longed in bright
anticipation for the dawn of the morrow.
Cecilia stole to his room. Having called
Valerian, she spoke to him thus : " Dearest
and sweetest youth ! I have a secret to tell
you, but you must swear you wont divulge it.' *

* "Nox vcnit in qua cum suo sponso in separato cubiculo

280 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Valerian promised on oath to keep the
secret. > -^

Then she said to him, " I wish you to know
I have an angel of God for a friend, who
protects my body with the greatest care. If
be suspected in the least that you had an im-
pure love towards me, he would be so en-
raged that he would soon destroy the flower
of your youth ; but, if he sees you love me
with a simple and chaste love, and that you
will let me preserve my virginity, then he
will lov6 you as he loves me, and will show
his power."

Hearing this, Valerian, frightened and at
the same time moved by grace {Dei nutu),
said: ^' If yoi wish, my dearest, that I should
believe all this, show me the angel, and, if I
find him to be indeed an angel, I shall do
whatever you say ; but, if I find y,ou love
another man, I will slay both you and him
with my sword." *

Cecilia replied : * My dear Valerian, if you

quietem noctu et silentium sic eumcstallocuta: ' Carlssime et
dulcissime adolescens, habeo arcana,' etc. ' Volo te scire me
angelum Dei habere amicum,'" etc. — Acts^ Surius, Nov. 22.

*" Si vis, carissima, ut credam iis qua; dicis, ostende inihi
ipsum angelum, et si intellexero eum esse verum angelum,
faciam quae hortaris," etc.

^' Domine, quo vadis f "

281

will abide by my advice, and promise to be
regenerated in the waters of baptism, and
believe in God the Father, and his Son Jesus
Christ, you will be able to see the angel."

"And who will purify me, that I may see
him ? " asked Valerian.

" There is an old man ir a certain place,"
replied the holy virgin, wit', an animated and
cheerful tone, "who kn ws well how to
purify, so that you may .ee the angel."

" And where is he ? '

" Well, I will tell /ou. Go to the third
mile-stone on the i* ppian Way.* You will
see some poor perse iis sitting there, and beg-
ging alms from the passers-by. These poor
people are dear to me, and know my secret. f
When you see them, give them my bene-
diction, and say, * Cecilia sent me to you,
that you may show me vi^here the holy old
man named Urban lives, for I have a mes-
sage for him ' ; and when you see Urban, tell
him all that I have told you, and, when he
will have purified you, put on your best
clothes, and come into this room, and you

♦The third mile-stone is about half a mile beyond the " Do-
mine, (|uo vadis? "
f'yuiquidem sunt mei arcani participes."

282 The Victims of the Mamertine,

will see the angel,* who will become your
friend, and will do for you anything you ask
him."

Valerian went as he was directed by the
holy virgin. He found the poor people on
the Appian Way, near the temple of Mars.
Having given a generous alms, he called
one of them aside, and gave him the message
from Cecilia. He was conducted down the
catacombs, and brought into the presence
of Urban. He was instructed and baptized,
and, when he returned, he saw the beautiful
angel by the side of Cecilia. In turn he con-
verted his brother Tiburtius, whom he brought
with him to these catacombs to Urban.
The martyrdom of the brothers followed
quickly on their conversion, and such was
the constancy they showed in fearlessly ac-
cepting death for the faith that the presiding
officer and some of the attendants were won
to the truth, and went with them to receive
the martyr's palm.

Cecilia was suffered to live a while longer.
We know not whether it was because her
noble rank and youthful beauty made it in-

*" Indue te indumentis novis et splcndidis" — literally, " put
on new and splendid garments."

\^i>

*' Domine, quo vadis ? "

283

vitHous to ^.ake away her life, or because the
prefect Ahnachius had some hopes of shak-
ino her constancy, At length he resolved
that she should be put to death secretly by
suffocation, so they locked her in her bath-
room, which was heated to an unusual tempe-
rature, every aperture being closed up, and
there they left her for a day and a night.
When the official sent by the prefect visited
her after this lapse of time, to his surprise the
bloom had not faded from her cheeks, nor
had the vigor departed from her limbs ; re
turning with the wonderful tidings, he receiv-
ed orders to despatch her instantly with
the sword. Three times he struck, but
either pity or admiration, or else the divine
power, unnerved his arm, for the head yet re-
mained unsevered from the trunk. It was
forbidden by the Roman law to strike oftener
than thrice, so he departed, leaving her in
this state, the blood welling forth from the
wound, and bathing her in its blood. The
faidiful rushed into the room to receive her
last words, and to gather up the hallowed
stream of blood. They found her lying
peacefully on the ground, and, when they
drew near to staunch the wound, she spoke

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284 The Victims of the Mamertine,

words of comfort and advice to each. So
she remained for three days, till Pope Ur-
ban came to bid her a last farewell ; then,
raising her head, she told him with a smile
how she had prayed to live till he came, that
she might resign into his hands, in keeping
for God s poor, the house and grounds which
belonged to her, and, these words said, her
head fell gently back and she expired. They
carried her corpse without disturbing the
peaceful position in which she lay to the
Catacombs of St. Callistus, and there, close to
the vault where the Vicars of Jesus Christ
slept in peace, this noble virgin martyr
was laid to rest in a cypress- tree coffin.

Several centuries passed by, and Pope Pas-
chal I. succeeded to the Pontificate. In the
first year of his reign, he translated into the
different churches of Rome the relics of
many martyrs, principally from the Cata-
combs of St. Callistus, whence twenty-eight
cart-loads of relics were brought to the Pan-
theon,* and the relics of the Popes to St.
Peter's. This Pope wished also to remove
the relics of St. Cecilia, but was unable to
find them amidst the ruins that blocked up

* See Panciroli, " Sta. Maria della Rotonda."

" Domine, quo vadis f "

28s

2 Ur-

then,

smile

;, that

the whole place, and was compelled to desist
from his design. Four years afterwards he
had a dream, in which St. Cecilia appeared to
him, and told him that, when he was remov-
ing the relics of the Popes, she was so near
to him that they might have held a conver-
sation together. Accordingly, he renewed
the search, found the body in the place speci-
fied, " fresh and perfect as when it was first
laid in the tomb, and clad with rich garments
mixed with gold, with linen cloths stained
with blood rolled up at her feet, lying in a
cypress coffin." It is he himself who gives
this account. He adds that he covered the
body with silk, spread over it a covering of
gauze, laid it in a white marble sarcophagus,
and placed it beneath the altar in the church
of St. Cecilia in Trastevere.

Eight hundred years afterwards, that is, in
the year 1599, Cardinal Sfrondati, of the title
of St. Cecilia, was restoring his church, and,
whilst the laborers were digging for foun-
dations beneath the high altar, they came
upon two marble sarcophagi. In the pre-
sence of competent witnesses one of them
was opened; it was found to contain a coffin
of cypress wood. The cardinal himself drew

286 The Victims of the Mamertine,'

back the coffin-lid. First appeared the pre-
cious lining and silk gauze, with which Pas-
chal had covered the body eight centuries
before. Its color had faded, but the fabric
was still entire, and through the transparent
folds could be seen the shining gold of the
robes in which the body of the martyr her-
self was clothed. After pausing for a few
moments, the cardinal gently removed this
silken covering, and the virgin form of St.
Cecilia appeared in the very same attitude in
which she had breathed her last on the pave-
ment of the house in which the spectators were
then standing, and which neither Urban nor
Paschal had ventured to disturb. She lay
clothed in her robes of golden tissue, on
which were still visible the glorious stains of
her blood, and at her feet were the linen
cloths mentioned by Pope Paschal and his
biographer. Lying on her right side, with
her arms extended in front of her body, she
looked like one in deep sleep. Her head, in
a singularly touching manner, was turned
round towards the bottom of the coffin, her
knees slightly bent and drawn together.
The body was perfectly incorrupt, and by a
special miracle retained, after more than

*' Dominey quo vadis ? "

287

thirteen hundred years, ail its grace and mo-
desty, and recalled with the most truthful ex- ;
actness Cecilia breathing forth her soul on
the pavement of her bath-room.

A more signal vindication of the Church's
traditions, a more consoling spectacle for,
a devout Catholic mourning over the
schisms and heresies of these miserable
times, a more striking commentary, could
scarcely be found on the divine promise:
" The Lord keepeth all the bones of his ser-
vants ; he will not lose one of them." The
body was exposed for veneration for the
space of three or four weeks, during which
time Maderna made his celebrated statue
of it, and then it was reclosed. The marble
statue was placed beneath the high altar
which che cardinal built to celebrate the
event * The difficulty, moreover, about the
Acts of this martyr vanishes when we erase
the word Pope before the name of Urban,
There was no Pope of this name in the time
of Commodus and Aurelius. However,
Rossi has discovered there was a St. Urban,
Bishop and Martyr, buried in the same crypt
with Pope Urban, who died fifty years after

^ Rossi, page 267. Panciroli, Martinelli, etc.

j88 The Victims of the Afamertifie,

St. Cecilia. Hence the error. The compil-
er of the Acts as we now have them, seeing
the tomb of St. Ceciha to be close to that
of St. Urban the Pope, and finding mention
of St. Urban in the documents from which
he was compiling, confounded the one name
with the other. Hence the whole story is
cleared from contradiction. As far as we
have seen, the adverse criticisms against
Rossi s theory are weak. It must be remem-
bered, moreover, that the French writers, who
have so profoundly treated of the Acts and
legends of St. Cecilia, had not the advantage
of seeing and studying for themselves the
crypts lately discovered in the Catacombs
of St. Callistus.*

It is interesting to consider how the records
of the faith of the first ages of Christianity,
written in marble and sealed with blood, have
been deciphered by the research of modern
centuries, to check the ramblings of mis-
guided reason, and strengthen the wavering
steps of faith by the incontestable character
of their testimony. In this age of scepticism.

* An interesting pamphlet has been published lately on this
subject in Rome, by an English Jesuit. It is entitled " Holy
Places."

Domine, quo vadis ? "

289

the lessons read in the catacombs are vvonder-
workino". Thousands who have been wandetf-
ing in the dark way, led on by the glimmer-
ing lamp of human reason, are daily enlight-
ened into truth by the torchlight that guides
through those labyrinthine passages. There
he who ventures may read the consoling doc-
trine of the forgiveness of sins and the real
presence in the most holy Sacrament; from a
thousand monumental slabs, he is told of the
privilege of intercessory prayer; over the
cryptal altar he may find the Madonna and
child, rudely painted in faded colors, but
there as truly as we see them to-day in all
the magnificence of wealth and art over the
altars of our modern cathedrals.

There are incredulous iien who, unable to
resist the overwhelming weight of sacred tra-
dition, would have us believe that those sa-
cred memorials of the past, the Acts of the
martyrs and the miracles wrought at their
tombs, are but dreams of enthusiasts, huge
fabrications invented for a pious fraud.* If
the teachings of the Fathers of the Reforma-

* A certain English Protestant writer has said the catacombs
are a huge lie ; that in the Middle Ages the monks got into
them, and painted and wrote the different testimonies that are
so crushing against modern heresj'.

290 The Victims of the Mameriint,

tion be true, the catacombs become still more
terrible in their historic horrors ; their sleep-
ing dead, whose crimsoned tombs tell of aw-
ful suffering, have been the victims of a
gigantic imposition — an imposition, too, sanc-
tioned by the miracles of the Most High.

What explanation can we give to the con-
duct of some modern writers, who not or^y
reject the telling consequences of the cata-
combs as records of the early faith of Chris-
tianity, but cast a slur of ridicule on the vene-
ratipn Catholics bear to those venerable
archives of the past ? There is not a nation
or an individual but has not instinctively a
reverence for the things of the past. The
Romans loved the first bridge cast across the
Tiber ; long after stone arches had spanned
the torrenc, they so revered the dilapidated
wooden structure that they handed it to the
custody of the priests of the temple ; hence
we have the word pontiff, from the Latin word
pons, a bridge. No wealth would purchase
the antique furniture and mouldy pictures that
adorn the chambers of the mediaeval casdes
of Europe ; the lock of hair, the photograph
of a friend, and the last mementos of severed
love are pressed to the bosom with respect.

" Domine, quo vadis f '*

291

At our antipodes some poor Irish exile will
reverently close in his prayer-book a blossoni
from the hawthorn bush that grew near his
cabin door. Is this universal respect for the
mementos of the past to be cried down as
superstitious when applied to the meniiorials
of our early faith ?

History points to her shrines. She will
show where Numa concocted the gigantic
scheme of paganism ; where Hannibal cast his
tents in sight of the walls of Rome ; where
Cicero spoke ; where Caesar fell ; the Tarpe-
ian cliff, whence "the traitor's leap cured
ambition." Will not history of a more noble
and sacred kind point out the spots crimsoned
with the blood of the martyrs; will hot a
grateful posterity kneel in reverence at the
tombs of their forefathers who died to pre-
serve and defend the sacred deposit of revela-
tion and Christianity ?

Still we might linger over the interesting
records of the " Domine, quo vadis ? " but we
must move on ; the garden of history is in
bloom around us ; our bouquet is increasing ;
we must leave room for rare and fragrant
stems to be culled in other walks from the
Mamertine.

^^ — ;> -a « ^

CHAPTER VII.

THE LAST HOURS OF THE APOSTLES.

*' Discede adulter Jupiter,
Stupro sororis ablite,
Relinque Romam liberam,
Plebemque jam Christi fuge.

" Te Paulus hinc exterminat, ~
Te sanguis exturbat Petri,
Tibi id quod ipsi amaveras
' Factum Neronis officit."
. PUDENS.

IE read in Dion Cassius (book
Ixvi.) that the most terrible day
in the annals of the past was
that in which Vesuvius suddenly burst
forth with desolating fury, destroying sev-
ieral cities, and changing into a desert the
garden of Italy. " There came great droughts
and violent earthquakes, so that the whole
plain boiled and bubbled, and the hills leaped,
and there were noises underground like
thunder, and above ground like roaring, and

aga

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 293

the sea made a great noise, and the heavens
sounded ; and then suddenly a mighty crash
was heard as if the mountains were coming
together, and first great stones were thrown
up to the very summits, then mighty fires
and immense smoke, so that the whole air
was overshadowed, and the sun entirely hid-
den as in an eclipse."

Greater and more terrible in its conse-
quences was the day the Apostles Peter and
Paul were put to death. The destruction of the
volcanic eruption, the mighty cities it buried
in its ashes, the devastation and woe it
poured out from its blazing crater on the
hapless country around, were soon forgotten,
and buried in oblivion deeper than the lava
that flowed over them. But not so the mar-
tyrdom of the apostles of Jesus Christ.
Through eighteen centuries has rolled one
unbroken sigh of sympathy over the thrilling
records of their last moments. Their death
was to the infant Church what the darkest
eclipse would be to the sun. The bright lu-
minary itself could only be darkened for
awhile, and would rise again in greater bril-
liancy and light; but Christianity, which is
the sun of the moral order, was eclipsed on

294 ^^^ Victims of the Mamertine.

the day those glorious apostles closed their
earthly career. ^

Returned to the Mamertine after meeting
our blessed Lord on ]the Appian Way, Peter
was immediately seized by the soldiers who
had heard of his escape. Knowing he was
near his death for the faith, he noniinated in
the same prison his successor in the Holy
See, who was Linus, a convert and compa-
nion of the Apostle for over twenty years.

According to Cornelius k Lapide,* Marti-
nelli, and others, St. Peter wrote his Second
Epistle from the Mamertine. Most probably
St. Paul also dictated in one of the upper
chambers of the prison that last and thrilling
farewell to Timothy. It would seem those
great apostles were carried in spirit through
ages yet to come, and permitted by God to see,
as they now do from heaven, the subterfuges
of heresy in its attacks upon the Church of
Christ. St. Peter proclaimed from the
Mamertine the great fundamental doctrine
of an infallible guiding Church, ''like a light
that shineth in a dark place until the day
dawn." Perhaps, far away on the horizon of
time, he saw a lovely island basking in the

* "In Epist. S. Petri," ii.

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 295

sunlight of sanctity, sinking through pride
into clouds of error and doubt by the false
principle of private interpretation of Sacred
Scripture. Can those outside the Catholic
Church, .who build their hopes for eternity on
this ever varying and shifting foundation, read
the powerful Epistle (the second) supposed to
have been written by St. Peter in the Mamer-
tine, without a blush of conscious error?
Like the solemn booming of the fog-bell in
the dark night, warning the mariners of the
vicinity of the rocks and the direction of the
port ; like the last ringing advice of a dying
father to his erring child, through the lapse
of eighteen centuries the last words of St.
Peter come floating down to us with all their
consolation and their terror !

** Being assured that the laying away of
this my tabernacle is at hand, according as our
Lord Jesus Christ also hath signified to me.
And I will do my endeavor, that after my de-
cease you may also often have whereby you
may keep a memory of these things. For we
have not followed cunningly devised fables,
when we made known to you the power and
presence of our Lord Jesus Christ : but hav-
ing been made eye-witness of his majesty.

■ #('

-' ^')^\

' 3-

i I

296 The Victims of the Mamertine,

For he received from God the Father, honor
and glory : this voice coming down to him
from the excellent glory, 'This is my be-
loved Son in whoni I have pleased myself,
hear ye him.' And this voice we heard
brought from heaven, when we were with him
in the holy mount. And we have the more
firm prophetical word : whereunto you do well
to attend, as a light that shineth in a dark
place, until the day dawn, and the day-star
arise in your hearts. Understanding this
first) that no prophecy of Scripture is made
by private interpretation. For prophecy
came not by the will of man at any time : but
the holy men of God spoke, inspired by the
Holy Ghost. ...

" Of this one thing, be not ignorant,
my beloved, that one day with the Lord
is as a thousand years, and a thousand
years as one day. The Lord delayeth
not his promise, as some imagine, but
dealeth patiently for your sake, not willing
that any should perish, but that all should
return to penance. But the day of the Lord
shall come as a thief in which the heavens
shall pass away with great violence, and the
elements shall be melted widi heat, and the

The Last Hours of the Apostles. 297

earth and the works which are in it shall be
burnt up. Seeing then that all these things
are to be dissolved, what manner of people
ought you to be in holy conversations and
godliness, looking for and hasting unto the
coming of the day of the Lord, by which the
heavens being on fire shall be dissoVed, and
the elements shall melt with the heat of fire ?
But we look for new heavens and a new earth
according to his promises, in which justice
dwelleth. Wherefore, dearly beloved, seeing
that you look for these things, be diligent that
ye may be found undefiled and unspotted to
him in peace : and account the long-suffer-
ing of our Lord salvation, as also our most
dear brother Paul, according to the wisdom
given him, hath written to you : * as also in
all his epistles, speaking in them of these
things: in which ? re certain things hard to
be understood, which the unlearned and un-
stable wrest, as they do also the other scrip-
tures, to their own destruction. You, there-
fore, brethren, knowing these things before,
take heed, lest being led aside by the error

* This text might be addressed against Cancellieri, who
seems to doubt that St. Paul was in the Mamcrtine with Sti

298 The Victims of the Mamertin^.

of the unwise, you fall from your own stead-
fastness. But grow in grace and in the
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Christ. To him be glory both now and
unto the day of eternity."* :«-: ?

On the road to St. Paul's, outside the
walls, there is a small chapel, where it is be-
lieved the apostles took leave of each other
when going to martyrdom. This favor may
have been procured by bribes from the
Christians, who \yatched and followed in
tear^ the movements of their beloved apos-
tles ; il may have even been granted by the
soldiers themselves, some of whom were not
only partial, but even suffered martyrdom
with St. Paul. Tradition says St. Diony-
sius, the Areopagite, was present, for in his
Episde to Titus he gives the farewell words
of these great servants of God to each other.
St. Paul said to St. Peter, " Peace be to
you, foundation of the Church, and pastor
of the sheep, and entire flock of Christ " ;
and St. Peter said to St. Paul, " Go in
peace, thou preacher of good, mediator of
salvation, and leader of the just." These
words, with the reference to St. Dionysius,

* 2 St. peter.

The Last Hours of the Apostles. 299

are printed in marble in old Italian over the
door of the little chapel. At what time a
capella was first erected at this spot we can-
not find. In the time of Pius IV., there stood
a small but decayed chapel commemorating
this event, in the centre of the road. The
pilgrims of the Most Holy Trinity got pos-
session of it from the Holy Father, and built
in its stead the pretty little chapel that now
stands on the side of the road. St. Frances
of the Torre dei Specchi, had a vineyard im-
mediately opposite this chapel. The saint
often placed flowers on the little altar in
honor of the apostles.

The last farewell over — a farewell which
they knew would in faith be for a few hours
only — they separated. St. Paul was brought
about two miles further on to a valley entided
Ad Aquas Salvias, and St. Peter was led to
the Janiculum, then known as a portion of the
Vatican, where Jewish malefactors were usu-
ally crucified. Sull carrying the chains, now
preserved in his church on the Esquiline, and
giving instructions and advice to the faithful
bands of Christians who followed, fearlessly
risking their own lives in their affection to
their pastor, they crossed the Sublician

30O The Victims of the Mamertine.'

bridge, and soon reached the summJ": of the
Janiculum. The proud pagan city lay be-
neath them ; its gilded temples and stately
palaces reflected the setting sun in golden
splendor — alas ! they were the shrines of
every species of idolatry that could be sug-
gested by the demons who laughed at the
blindnecs of man. Doubtless St. Peter knew
the triumph that would one day dawn over
that city, bright indeed with the sunlight of
heaven, but in reality sitting in the dark and
gloopiy shadows of death. Whilst he was
pouring forth his last fervent prayer for the
conversion of Rome, they arrive at the spot
destined for his crucifixion.

During the few moments that passed whilst
they were preparing his cross, the Christians
who had followed in deep distress gathered
around the Apostle to kiss his hand and hear
again his last paternal advice and farewell.
He told them many things about the Church,
the martyrs, and the triumph of Christianity.
Suddenly rapt in an ecstasy, he saw the ill-
fated city of Jerusalem stretched out before
him on the plain towards Ostia, the awful
hour and character of its doom written in
letters of fire in the clouds above it ; in short,

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 301

sug-

quick, rapid sentences, he told those around
him what he saw — the cup of Judaic iniquity
full ; the times of prophecy come in the third,
year of his third successor's reign ; the
streets flowing with blood from the strug-
gles of civil factions ; the Romans intrench-
ed around the city, and battering down the
walls ; angels pouring over its doomed peo-
ple their phials of wrath, of famine, pesti-
lence, and woe; the temple in flames and
crumbling to the ground in a terrific crash ;
over a million of his countrymen slain, and one
hundred thousand prisoners, and the people
that called the curse of the Messiah's blood
upon them, scattered to the four winds of
heaven. " O Jerusalem ! " cried out the
Apostle, whose eyes were bedewed with tears,
" Jerusalem who hast killed the prophets and
the King of prophets, if thou didst but know
the things that are for thy peace ! " Whilst
yet speaking, one of the executioners rudely
pushed him by the shoulder towards the cross
which they had now prepared for its victim.
He requested to be crucified with his head
downwards, as more ignominious than the
death of our Blessed Lord. He was nailed to
the cross. He preached to the people around

302 The Victims of the Mamertine, '

whilst able. Two angels appeared one on
each side of his cross, and chanted one of the
inspired psalms alternately between them, and
after two hours' agony the great Apostle pass-
ed from his earthly toil to his divine Master to
whom alone he would go for eternal life.*

When, the subsiding tumult had evinced
that the city had retired to rest, there ven-
tured forth under the azure gloom of night a
little band of disciples, who often paused to
listen or drew aside in trepidation under the
deep shade of an arch or portico, until at last
they found themselves beyond the Tiber on
the highest point of the Janiculum. There

* There is a tradition that the wife and daughter of St. Peter
sufTered mart)'rdom, and that he was present at the death of
the former. 'Tis but a stray rivulet of tradition thaj ^ives us
this fact ; it has not yet entered the majestic stream of history.
However, in » letter of Clement of Alexandria, quoted by
Orsi, vol. iv., we find her name was. Hacca. On her way to
execution, St. Peter met her, and, encouraging her to be firm,
said: "Hacca, memento Domine!" One would fancy the
Apostle had but time to say a couple of words, and thus skil-
fully threw Into a brief sentence the thrilling reminiscences of
the past. The passion, the resurrection, and the consoling
doctrines of eternal life are so wrapt up.witU the name of Jesus
as to be inseparable from it. Where or how the good Hacca
received her crown, we will leave the reader to enquire from
herself when he meets her at the gate-house of the celestial
kingdom, where surely ?\iQ takes care of the keys with hei
Claviger Peter.

•J

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 303

the lifeless body of St. Peter still hung upon
the cross to which the persecutors had nailed
his venerable hands and feet. It was a pite-
ous sight ! The beard and gray hairs of the
venerable man were clotted with the gore
trickling down from the wounds by which he
hung, and bedewing his limbs, emaciated with
age and apostolic labors. That frame, whose
shadows used to raise the paralytic and
plague-stricken from their litters, had now
" no soundness in it " ; dimmed, drowned with
gore was that eye which had grown familiar
with the incarnate Word ; the feet that Jesus
washed, that had carried the tidings of salva-
tion around provinces and kingdoms, were
torn with ghastly wounds ; transfixed was
that hand that raised the paralytic in the
portico of the temple, and that lifted Tabi-
tha from the bier, and touched the son of
Pudens and made him rise ; silent that tongue
that upbraided." the whole house of Israel "
with deicide, and preached with the fire of
the Paraclete in the midst of Jerusalem with
such potency as to lay prostrate in adoration
of Jesus crowds who had shouted, " Not him,
but Barabbas!"

Amongst the crowd of pious Christians

304 The Victims of the Mamertine,

who came to take away the body of Peter
there were Timotheus (the son of Pudens
restored to Hfe) and his venerable father.
They were heart-broken with grief; the very
stars of heaven look down as if they were
afflicted, so pensive was the light they shed
upon the martyred body and the group that
gazed upon it with streaming eyes, their
hands clasped or lifted in the excess of their
tribulation. But no loud cry or wailing
escaped even from the virgin tenderness of
Petr6nilla, or of Prudentiana or Praxede, who
helped Claudia and Basilissa and other Chris-
tian matrons to collect every drop of blood in
sponges, and to deposit in caskets the sand
saturated with his blood. No sound broke
the dead stillness of the night but stifled sobs
and the most mute niurmuring, like the gen-
tle echo of distant psalmody, as they drew
out the nails, depositing them with care into
napkins, and then receiving into their arms
with reverence the corpse now loosened from
the cross ; wrapping it in the shroud, with
trembling haste they bore it through by-
paths and thickets until they came to a lonely
region among the sand-pits of the Vatican.
Having traversed by the light of flambeaus a

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 305

succession of long, narrow corridors-— a laby-
rinth of darkness — they came to where they
were anxiously expected by some of the
clergy and laity of Rome assembled in the
heart of those catacombs.

From the night after the crucifixion of St.
Peter the crypt close to the Circus of Nero,
where his dead body had reposed, became a
hallowed spot and a place of prayer and
pilgrimage for the Christians. It was the
greatest privilege of his successors to be laid
in death near the great chief and first viceroy
of Christ's kingdom. A small oratory or
tomb was erected there as early as the year
106 by one of his own faithful priests, who
afterwards succeeded him in the Pontificate.
It shared the fate of all the places consecra-
ted to Christian worship. It was a heap of
ruins when the triumph of the Labarum gave
peace to. the Christian world. Amongst the
places dear to the Christians in the hallowed
memories of the past the first was the shrine
of the great Apostle. Constantine, who had
entered into every Christian feeling, and who,
it seems, had a special devotion to St. Peter,
ordered the Senate, the legions, and the
Roman people to meet on an appointed day

3o6 The Victims of the Mamertine;

at the Circus of Nero, where the first fathers
in the faith were so unmercifully butchered ;
there he dismounted from his chariot, and,
laying aside his golden diadem, he prostrated
himself before the confession of the Apostle,
and poured out floods of tears so that they
streamed down over the ornaments of his
imperial robes. Then, taking a spade, he dug
with his own hands the first traces of the
foundation ; he carried on his shoulders
twelve basketfuls of earth, and thus com-
men9ed the mighty basilica which is now one
of the wonders of the world — " the grandest
temple the hands or even the imagination of
man ever raised to the worship of God."

II.

Baronius gives the following account of
the martyrdom of St. Paul :

** It is related, whilst he was proceeding
to the place of execution, accompanied by an
immense crowd of people, and arriving at the
gate of the city, they met a most illustrious
matron named Plautilla (called differently by
some), whom we believe to be the mother
of Flavia Domitilla, as mentioned in the

The Last Hours of the Apostles, 307

Roman Marty rology (20th May), and in the
Acts of SS. Nereus and Achilleus, baptized by
St. Peter, and who died the same year as the
apostles. Seeing her weeping, the Apostle
asked her for her veil, by which he could
bind his eyes, according to the custom of the
Jews, before being struck with the sword,
promising to return it to her. She willingly
consented, and gave it to him. The place
where this happened is said to be near the
Ostian Gate, consecrated with a small chapel
in memory of this event.

Whilst they were thus leading him to
execution, he converted three of the sol-
diers who accompanied him, who, perse-
vering in constancy of faith, were executeu
three days afterwards by the emperor.
These martyrs, whose names were Longi-
nus, Acestus, and Megistus, are commem-
orated by the Church with great solemni-
ty on the 2d of July. When, therefore,
they arrived at the place destined for his
martyrdom, having poured forth some fer-
vent pra3'^ers, he cheerfully presented his
neck to the executioner. The place is
called Ad Aquas Salvias, at the third
milestone from the city, where afterwards

to8 The Victims of the Mamertitie, ^

many Christians were slaughtered ; for
here also, all ancient monuments attest,
■were executed Zeno and ten thousand sol-
diers. Here, then, with one stroke of the
executioner, the head of Paul was cut off,
and, strange to relate, milk rather than
blood flowed from the veins of his neck.
This fact, so remarkable, is not only given
in the above-mentioned Acts (those attri-
buted to Pope Linus, who was, perhaps,
eye-witness), but is confirmed by many
other testimonies. St. Ambrose, speaking
of this circumstance as if certain and un-
doubted, uses these expressions: "It is said,
when the neck of Paul was struck by the
sword of the persecutor, a wonderful stream
of milk rather than blood flowed, so that
the mysterious grace of Baptism, his mar-
tyrdom, was splendid rather than bloody.
Which, indeed, .in Paul was not marvel-
lous. What wonder that he abound-
ed in milk who was the nourisher
(nutritor) of the Church, as he himself
said to the Corinthians : ' I have given
you milk to drink, not food ' ( r Cor. 3),
This is clearly that land of promise which
God promised to our fathers, saying, • I

The Last Hours of the Apo%tles, 309

will give you a land flowing with milk
and honey.' He did not mean the land
of the earth, which, mixing with water,
becomes dirt and mud, but that of Paul
and such as Paul, which is ever pure
and sweet. What honey sweeter than the
Epistles of Paul? what milk whiter? For
they are like the breasts of the churches
they nourished to salvation. From the
neck, therefore, of the Apostle there flowed
milk instead of blood." Thus far Ambrose.
Also, St. John Chrysostom, a most mighty
authority, speaks thus : " But the praises
of Paul, who was decapitated, we cannot
in words declare. Shall not the sword
that cut that throat be taken to heaven
as a divine instrument for the terror of
the earth? How holy the place that
received thy blood, which appeared as milk
on the garments of him who struck thee,
touching his barbarous soul, rendering it
sweeter than honey, so that, with his com-
panions, he was led to the faith ! " etc.

We must not pass over another fact,
memorable in connection with his martyr-
dom, not mentioned in many writings, yet
sustained by a most faithful tradition from
our ancestors. When the head of Paul was

310 The Victims of the Matneriine,

separated from his body, animated by a di-
vine power (" vi quadam spiritus divinitus
agitavit"), it gave three leaps, where three
fountains immediately sprang up from the
earth. The waters have a milky taste in
the first fountain, not so much in the
others; which is explained by the circum-
stance that milk first came out of his veins,
and then blood. This place, called "The
Three Fountains," is undoubtedly celebrated
throughout all Christianity, and has ever
beei^ the object of devotion to an immense
concourse of people.

The handkerchief of Plautilla, having
served its object, was returned to her by
the saint in a vision. It is of the same
we find mention in the letters of Gregory,
who was asked for this relic by Constan-
tina Augusta ; but, as it was enclosed in
the case with the relics of the Apostle, the
holy Pontiff would not open the case for
the purpose.* - ;

The body of St. Paul was taken by Lu-
cina, a matron of senatorial rank, and in-
terred in her own garden on the Ostian

Way.t

*Epis. Reg., lib. 3, epis. 3. <"^ ;-■

f Buronius, " Annalcs," anno 69, No. 10, and following.

t '

CHAPTER VIII.

in
the
for

ALEXANDER, POPE AND MARTYR.

UR subject now leads us into
the marvellous. In the landscape
before us there are fairy scenes.
Were we not convinced that they come
from the pencil of history, we would hand
them over to the lovers of verse and le-
gend. Tinged, embellished, it may be, by
the crayons of fancy, we believe the extra-
ordinary records before us are substantial-
ly true. We will defend our credulity in
anticipating and answering .a question that
may naturally be asked — Do you, then,
believe all the legends mentioned in the
lives of the saints?

To the relief of many outside the pale

of the Church, and the consolation of timid

31X

■i*Vr-

312 The Victims of the Mamertine,

souls within, we frankly reply, By no
means.

There are, we confess, a vast number
of legends which may be ranked amongst
fairy-tales. Pious tradition is a benignant
goddess, that has gathered under her wings
a vast amount of marvellous but instruc-
tive legends that amuse the uneducated
mind. These legends blend with, and at
times corrupt like muddy waters, the clear
stream of truth. There are pious histories,
the! Lipsanothecas of the great Catholic
countries, that would while away many a
pleasant hour around the winter fire ; yet
the boundary line of truth and fable is
easily discerned. They blend before the
ignorant and incredulous like the perspec-
tive of a landscape, where the trees seem
to touch the stars and the moon issues
from the depths of the forest. When the
ocean is glistening under the parting rays
of the setting sun, it would appear as if
a sea-bird could touch with the extremi-
ties of his wings the bluish boundary line
of the wave and the red disc of the orb
of day, yet how many millions of miles
separate them !

A lexaiideVy Pope and Martyr, 313

If some legendary writer, through cre-
(liiUty or ignorance, has thrown around his
favorite saint the romance of popular and
exaggerated devotion, or adopted too easily
the sensational tales of pilgrims returning
from distant lands, does it follow that all his-
tories have been so written? Is there not
some difference between the pious dreams of
credulous old age related around the domestic
hearth and the documents before the student
in the study of his library ? Are there not
some pages in history perfectly authentic?
Read the following statements concerning the
Acts of the martyrs, and then say if they are
legends.

Pope Clement instituted seven notaries to
make a collection of the principal facts and
compose the Acts of the first martyrs. St.
Fabian, Pope and martyr, finding this num-
ber insufficient, associated with them seven
deacons and the same number of subdeacons.
Their writings were submitted to the personal
examination of the Pontiff and then depo-
sited in the archives of Rome. The scenes
in court, the interviews between the Chris-
tian martyrs and the tyrant judges, were
written by the pagans themselves, and pre-

314 The Victims of the Mamertine.

served as the records of the judicial proceed-
ings. And these Acts, thus compiled from
pagan sources, where there was no likeli-
hood of pious exaggeration, were read in
certain churches on the anniversary of their
death, as Cardinal Baronius has remarked,
and as proved by the thirteenth chapter of
the Council of Carthage, by the history of
Gregory of Tours, and by an epistle of Pope
Adrian to the Emperor Charlemagne. All
the lives of the saints were not then aban-
doned to the pens of credulous and legend-
ary writers more remarkable for piety and
zeal than literary acumen.

But independently of those ecclesiastical
historians who wrote, as it were, under the
very eyes of the Roman pontiffs, the greatest
doctors, the finest geniuses, of Catholicism
did not disdain this labor. St. Athanasius,
St. Basil, St. Gregory of Nazianzen St. John
Chrysostom, Theodoret, amongst the Greeks,
and amongst the Latins Ambrose, Augus-
tine, Gregory the Great, Paulinus, Bernard,
and Bonaventure, have written lives of saints
and have related miracles of which they de-
clare themselves to have been eye-witnesses.
*' To condemn at one sweep all such his-

A lexandeVy Pope and Martyr, 315

tories," says an eloquent French writer, " ap-
pears to me singularly presumptuous. When
St. Augustine testifies he saw a blind child
recover his sight by the tomb of SS. Gervase
and Protase at Milan, are we to accuse him
and two other bishops to whom he appeals
as witnesses of simplicity, credulity, and im-
posture ? Is there any one in our days so
presumptuous as to think he is to be com-
pared with them, either in piety, or learning,
or judgment ? " *

Yet in the Acts of the Martyrs and in the
lives of the saints, given us by the great doc-
tors of the Church, there are facts more
marvellous than any of the legends gathered
under the wings of pious tradition ; they
prove the proverb, " Truth is stranger than
fiction." No mind could, even in the loftiest
flights of fancy, build the fabric of history
more fabulous than we find it. In the mys-
terious manifestations of Divine Providence
over man, in every page of the history of the
past, we find records of miracles and marvels
of mercy and goodness which would seem
like the ravings of an enthusiast, were they
not proved by the divine authority.

* Montaigne. ' '

t
[ I

II I

316 Tke Victims of the Mamertine.

There is a courage in divine faith that finds
little difficulty in accepting the things that
are of God. They are wonderful because
they form part of the stupendous mystery
of Christianity. Those who reject every-
thing that is strange are the hapless victims
of a proud, foolish private judgment; they
are those who make faith a system of thought
that flits through theories like birds through
trees when the wind is strong; finding one
branch too unsteady, they try another. They
call faith the privilege of professing one doc-
trine in the morning and its contradiction at
sunset. Doubtless with secret approbation
they view at a distance the happy confidence
of the Catholic's unchanging faith. He who
gazes on the sun is dazzled and loses the
power of fixing anything definitely ; thus the
victim of unbelief, bewildered in uncertainty,
turns from the contemplation of Catholic
truth to seek comfort in the liberty of free
judgment, but finds himself drifting away into
error like the guideless bark on the ocean's
immensity.

A wholesale rejection of the mementos
and relics preserved in the hallowed memo-
ries of Christianity involves an inconsistency

Alexander^ Pope and Martyr, 317

which should cause a blush on the brow of
an educated man. Is there a nation, is there
a family, is there an individual that does not
show some reverence for the things of the
past? The sacred fig-tree under which it
was supposed that Romulus was suckled by
the wolf was preserved for centuries in the
Roman Forum. '

The first bridge that was cast across the
Tiber, and memorable for the heroism of a
Scaevola, was so dear to the old Romans it
was still preserved in wood when majestic
stone arches spanned the torrent. It was
committed to the care of the priests, and
hence most probably arose the title oi pon-
tiffs* . _

What was dearer to the ancients than their
Penates, loved not so much from a blind,
idolatrous superstition as from family tradi-
tions represented in those household dieties ?

This love for the past is not alone a pagan
virtue. The lock of hair, the photograph of
some dear one passed away, the last memen-
to of severed love, is kissed and pressed to the

* Pontifex in Latin ixom pons, a bridge, and /rtr^r?, to make.
Bafonius and Maitinelli will have the derivation from words
signifying conferring power.

3 1 8 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

bosom ; no gold would purchase the faded
pictures that hang in the ancestral halls of
our mediaeval castles ; far away in our anti-
podes some poor Irish exile will reverently
close in his prayer-book a blossom from the
hawthorn tree that grew near his cabin-door.
Is this universal and irresistible respect which
all classes of society show to the mementos
of the past to be cried down as superstitious
and sinful when applied to the relics of the
saints ? There are men who laugh with ridi-
cule at the liquid blood of a martyr extracted
from a recess in the Catacombs, and will pay
large sums for a broken faun or a coin cov-
ered with verdigris. See how the world
points with reverence to her historical
shrines. She will show the spot where Numa
planned the gigantic scheme of paganism,
where Hannibal encamped in sight of the
walls of Rome, where Cicero spoke in the
Forum, where Caesar fell, where the Tarpe-
ian cliff frowns on the Capitol heights, where

" The traitor's lean cured ambition."

Why could not tradition of a more holy and
sacred character show the spots crimsoned
with the blood of the martyrs, sanctified by

: faded
alls of
ir anti-
erendy
om the
n-door.
t which
imentos
-stitious
; of the
ith ridi-
jctracted
will pay
in GOV-
world
istorical
eNuma
ganism,
of the
in the
Tarpe-
, where

ply and
msoned
lified by

Alexander, Pope and Martyr. 319

their miracles, or honored with their remains ?
The impious and incredulous, who are crushed
in their errors by the overwhelming weight
of tradition, would be glad to have us believe
that the sacred memorials of the past, the
Acts of the martyrs, and miracles wrought at
their tombs, are but the dreams of enthusias-
tic pilgrims and huge fabrications invented
for a pious deception. In the gilded fabrica-
tions of modern worship there is no past.
They have no Catacombs, with their thrilling
lessons, that prove the unbroken chain with
the disciples of the apostles ; they have no
honored histories or relics of martyrs ; they
have no sanctuaries holy in the hallowed
reminiscences of centuries ; hence they en-
deavor to sweep away everything that
would remind of the mushroom orrowth of
the heresies they call truth. If these here-
sies be true, then the tale told by the Roman
Catacombs, with their millions of martyrs, be-
comes more terrible and thrilling ; the sleep-
ing dead, whose crimson tombs tell of awful
suffering, were but the victims of a gigantic
imposition, and that sanctioned by the mira-
cles of the Most High.

S^^ft/?^

■W%)'^

S^y^-^s^^^^^ ' ^

CHAPTER IX.

'■1

SIXTUS.

Who dies in youth and vigor dies the best,

Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast;

But when mortals, in fulness of their rage,

Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, ^

In dust the reverend lineaments deform, . .•

Afld, pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm —

This, this is misery.

Iliad., B. 24.

-.»-i

-'/i«.

I. '. ' -^Z:.

T requires but little to pass in
thought from the touching scene
that passed in the Catacombs of
St. Alexander on the 12th of
April, 1855 (the nearest we could have in
modern times to the dreadful realities of the
past), to contemplate the 23 2d predecessor
of Pius IX. addressing his flock in the Cata-
combs of St. Callistus, when new edicts from
the cruel Valerian gave fresh horrors to the
virulence of the persecution. The holy Pope
Sixtus II., weighed down with years and the

Sixtus,

321

cares of apostolic toil, gathered his priests
around him in one of the crypts on the Appian
Way, and, reminding them that the leaders
in the batde must bear the brunt of the fight,
encouraged them to persevere by placing
before them the example of the Christian
heroes who had already won the crown of
life, and how their great Lord and Master
went before them on the blood-stained track
of martyrdom. '* Brothers and fellow-labor-
ers in the vineyard of the Lord," cried out
the venerable Pontiff, " do not fear ! How
many torments have the saints who have
gone before us to eternal life suffered ! Jesus
Christ himself, our great leader and model,
suffered that he might give us an example."

Peter in the Mamertine, Sixtus in the Cata-
combs, and Pius in the Vatican, robbed, im-
prisoned, and martyred in the miseries of his
people, are apt illustrations of the spirit of
humiliation and suffering which God destined
as the characteristic of his Church. Behold
the fifth mark of the Church. It is not in
the clash of arms or the bloodshed of battle
that her divinity must be proved. Is there
any lesson more manifestly inculcated in the
history of the past than the miracle of divine

322 The Victims of the Mamertine.

Providence represented by Jesus sleeping
during the storm on the bark of GaHlee?
When the wind was fiercest and the frail
vessel is all but sunk, he rises from his appa-
rent sleep and commands the troubled ele-
ments to be still. Thus when persecution
had driven the Church to the caves of the
earth, when her noble pontiffs were dragged
before the tribunals of paganism, when every
human hope seemed blasted, Jesus was look-
ing on with a smile from his high throne in
heaven. At the moment the enemy seemed
tcr triumph, and his sinking servants send
forth in their diffidence the anguishing cry
for help, the sleeping Providence awakens,
calmly chides their unnecessary fears, dis-
pelling the clouds and staying ^-^^e winds in
their fury, and gives the bark of the Church
the consolation of a few hours' sunshine.

The warning voice of Sixtus rings from
the gloomy caves of the Catacombs, floating
over generations of sorrow and woe, remind-
ing us, as well as the children of his martyred
flock, that suffering and sorrow is the lot of
man in this vale of tears. "Through many
tribulations it is necessary to enter the king-
dom of heaven."

Sixtus.

323

There is not a land under the sun that has
not been wrapt in the gloom of night. From
the moment that original innocence was lost
under the shadow of the cursed apple-tree
of Eden, the brilliant sun of joy was clouded.
Labor, blasted hopes, and death, with their
innumerable progeny of evil, were scattered
from the hand of the Most High to the cur-
rents of air that encircle our globe ; the sighs
of broken friendship, the wails of disconso-
late mothers over their departed babes, and
the sobs of loving children by the death-bed
of their parents, mingle into one dreadful, un-
broken groan of woe which forms the dirge
of humanity in its lamentation over the loss
of its innocence. From the cabin of the poor
to the palace of the rich the dismal shadow
of sorrow has fallen ; misery in his hydra
form coils around the king and the peasant ;
amidst poverty, sickness, and want, for man
there is no peace but the tomb. Wealth,
honors, riches, are gilded bubbles on the
stream of time, and give little consolation ;
the moment we try to seize them they break
into thin air with the sigh of disappoint-
ment given by the world's wisest man —
"vanity and affliction of spirit."

324 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Once a holy hermit, who had followed the
way of virtue from his childhood, who had
never tasted the bitter disappointment of the
world's joys, was tempted in his cave in the
solitude to ambition, the lot of worldlings ;
their wealth, their splendid palaces, their
luxuries of taste, formed a picture that tempt-
ed him to despise the simplicity of his desert
home. God sent an angel to dispel his
foolish thoughts. The angel brought him
to the great cities of the world, to the houses
of Juxury and wealth, to giddy scenes of
revelry and mirth, lifting at the same time
the veil that the hypocrisy of man casts
around his sorrows. He passed through
the different stages of life, but no pen could
describe the dark scenes of human sorrow
that lurked under the human smile. He
saw a monarch on his throne, but the crown
of diamonds and gold encircled an aching
brow. He saw the wealthy man in his cabi-
net in the midst of gorgeous furniture ; his
ancestral towers looked down on golden
iields of harvest ; satellites fawned on him,
and his table groaned under the richest
viar.ds ; but his troubled heart was heaving
like the restless ocean ; he writhed under the

Sixius,

.325

caDi-
^ , his
olden
him,
chest
aving
^r the

agony of blasied ambition ; he was torn with
the remorse of ill-gotten power ; was the
victim of the melancholy and disappointment ,
that live under the baneful shadows of pride
and avarice. ,

The angel showed the hermit carriages in
which rolled the Cleopatras and Messalinas
of society, decked in their external charms —
gold, silU, and all that the goddess of fashion
could k..d to the pomp of vanity ; but lift-
ing the gauze that scarcely covered i.he
heaving bosom, he revealed the dark picture
of the heart within. One was enveloped in
the coils of the snake of jealousy, constantly
plunging his poisoned fangs into it ; another
pined away in secret hate; here the ennui
of dissipation, there the blighted flower of
chastity, held a drooping head in the agony
of its shame.

" In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ;
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.
Ah ! true it is, survey we life around,
Whole hosts of ills on every side are found,
Who wound not here and there by chance a foe,
But at the species meditate the blow.
What millions perish by each other's hands
In war's fierce rage, or by the dread commands

^^T

326 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Of tyrants' languish out their lives in chains,
Or lose them in variety of pains !
What numbers, pinched by want and hunger, die,
In spite of nature's liberality !
What numbers, guiltless of their own disease,
Arc snatched by sudden death or waste by slow
degrees ! "

The angel brought him through the hum-
bler walks of life, but everywhere the heavy
hand of sorrow had touched the human race ;
the anxious parent, the widowed wife, the
ruined merchant, the consumptive child, the
exiled statesman, all smiling in the ghastly
hypocrisy of pretended joy. But enough !
The celestial guide brought the poor hermit
to his little cell by the stream in the desert,
where there were no racking cares or blight-
ed hopes, and bade him know that they only
were happy who had despised the world and
thought of eternity.

Ye*, in all the sorrows of the world, in all
the miseries of man, there is one ray of joy
that pierces this cloud and never abandons
him in the darkest hour of his trial. 'Tis
hope. Well the ancients knew it when they
invented the fable- of Pandora. For us
Christians that hope is the consolation of
faith in the example of Jesus. This is the

Sixtus.

327

column of light that must guide us in the
dark night and through the pathless des-
ert; it will only abandon us on the shores
of the promised land beyond the grave.
" Jesus suffered that he might give us exam-
ple," says holy Sixtus. This is the motto
on the Christians banner. In trouble, in
sorrow, the more like our great Captain, the
more pleasing to him. In the records of
hagiology, in the Acts of the martyrs, we
have naught but the dark tale of poverty, of
persecution, and trial ; yet how pleasing and
how powerful with God those victims of the
world's sorrow ! The example of Jesus Wvis
a powerful talisman, that made every afflic-
tion light, that turned every thorn into a
rose ; it was the consolation that fell on the
souls of the just like the tinted rays of sun-
light through the Gothic window into the
darkened aisle of the cathedral.

There are moments when trouble bears
down on us as the- whirlwind, when all hu-
man hopes are blasted and all human sym-
pathies incapable of consoling us — moments
of awful isolation, when we are unable to
bear the evil that overwhelms us. 'Tis
then we find consolation in meditation on

328 The Victims of the Mamertine.

the sufferings of Christ. The example
of Jesus will be the star of hope that
ever shines through the storm. The mo-
ther by the couch of her agonizing first-
born ; the poor, sick woman burdened with
children and misfortunes, viewing the bark
of her husband tossed in the storm ; the
victim of oppression turned from his little
cottage to die on the roadside ; the friend
who listens at a distance to the cannon that
thunders against his friend ; the just man
thro)vn into the same dungeon with the vi-
lest of wretches — for all there is an exam-
ple and a joy in the passion of Jesus ! '
This was the secret of martyrdom. This
enabled tender youth and delicate virgins to
brave the tyrants. Behold ! " The victory
that overcometh the world — our faith ! "

'• If misfortune come, she brings along
The bravest virtues ; and so many great,
Illustrious spirits have conversed with woe,
Have in her school been taught, as are enough
To consecrate distress and make ambition
E'en with the frown beyond the smile of fortune.'

— Thomson.

The address of the aged Pontiff had a
thrilline effect on his flock. Where could

Sixtus.

329

such an appeal be made with more tell-
ing force than to those Roman Christians?
Their fathers were martyrs. There was not
a family but had a brother or sister crowned;
there were even in the congregation many
hands stained with the fresh blood-marks of
the mangled victims, whose sacred remains
they had brought to the Catacombs for
honorable interment. The persecution was
raging around, and each one was hoping to
be the next champion selected for the crown
of martyrdom.

The aged Pope made some allusions to
his own martyrdom, which he knew by in-
spiration was at hand. Although it was a
farewell that had all the surroundings of the
last terrible farewell of the death-bed, yet it
was to those holy souls the temporary leave-
taking of a fond father who is emigrating to
another country, leaving directions to his
sons to follow him without delay. Near the
Holy Father there were two young deacons,
in the bloom of their youth and beauty, with
tears rolling down their cheeks like the first
dewdrops of a mornnig flower ; they heard
their father and beloved Pontiff announcing
the darkness of the cloud ihat was coming

330 The Victims of the Mamertine,

along with the storm not yet spent in its
fury. When Sixtus had ceased to speak, one
of the deacons, named FeHcissimus, unable
loncfer to control the inward sorrow crush-
ing his heart, mingled with a natural anx-
iety for the future, spoke for himself and
companion, named Agapetus: "And we —
where shall we go without our father."*

" Fatherless you shall not be," we can
fancy we hear the aged Sixtus reply. " He
who has accepted the vows of your gen-
erous hearts has wished you to follow your
priest in his sacrifice as well as in his
crown."

The messengers of death are already on
the track of the aged Pontiff. Like the city
on the mountain, like the brilliant light that
illumines the darkness, the saintly Pope was
easily discovered, and we next find him in
chains as a malefactor before the persecutor
of the Church, fulfilling the prophecy of
Jesus: "They will lay their hands on you
and persecute you, delivering you up to
the synagogues and into prisons, dragging
you before kings and governors for my

* '• Et nos— quo ibimus sine patrc nostro." — Acts Sti. Ckfisti,
Bolhmdists,

Sixtus.

331

name's sake, and it shall happen to you
for a testimony." *

The usual question is asked: ** Will you
pity your old age and sacrifice to our
gods?"

A stern refusal evokes the following sen-
tence : " Let this man be taken to the Temple
of Mars, that he may sacrifice to that god;
if he refuse, cast him into the lower dungeon
of the Mamertine."t

He is led in chains through the Forum, fol-
lowed by his faithful deacons, Agapetus and
Felicissimus, in whom the holy Pontiff evinces
more anxiety than in his own fate. A crowd
of idlers and sight-seers gathered round the
brave band of martyrs ; some would scoff
and repeat the usual blasphemies against the
God of the Christians, whilst others, struck
with the venerable appearance and halo of
sanctity that shone around the aged Sixtus,
gave loud expression to their sympathy.
The Christians followed in silence and fear,
whilst their hearts heaved in sorrow, and then
calmed in joy that glory was given to God.

* St. Luke xxi. I2, 13.

f " Ducite eum ad templum Martis, ut sacrificet Deo Marti ;
quod si rioluerit, recludite eum in privata Mamertini." — Acts
Bollandists.

332 The Victims of the Mamertine»

Arrived at the Temple of Mars, the Holy Fa-
ther addressed the crowd of pagans that had
gathered round. The Acts give his short,
eloquent appeal to those hapless victims of
foolish, idolatrous worship. ^ '

" O unhappy lUen ! " cried out the Pontiff,
with burning zeal for their salvation — " O
unhappy men ! that you do not weep rather
than adore vain idols, deaf and dumb, made
by your own hands, which cannot help them
selves or any one else. Listen to me, chil-
dren, and free yourselves from eternal pun-
ishment; do not fear the torments they v;ill
inflict on you, but rather fear those crimes
you are guilty of, and do penance for the
folly of sacrificing to idols."

The words of the holy martyr fell with
thrilling effect on his pagan audience. He
who blesses the labors of man for his greater
glory, and giveth increase to the sapling that
Apollo i.vatcreth,'^ sent with the words of the
martyrs the invisible unction of grace to melt,
to break, the iron casement with which pas-
sion guards its throne in the human heart.
Short, simple the words of the Pontiff; yet
that evening, when the sun had set, those who

'• * I Cor. iii. 6.

Sixtus.

333

the

'ho

greeted its rise with blasphemies against the
true God were steaHng along the Appidn
Way to be introduced to some Christian
priest who would instruct and baptize them.

The minions of the pagan judge whc
brought the martyrs to the Temple of Mars,
as might be expected, had their walk for
nothing. They returned to the city to fulfil
the next part of the sentence — to cast them
into Mamertines Bath,

Whilst they are returning from the Ap-
pian Way we must bring the reader before
them to the city.

Amongst the palaces on the Celian there
is the house of a wealthy man who has be-
come a Christian. As charity entered with
faith, he immediately turned his house into
an hospital. The poor, the aged, and the
sick were brought here, but secretly, for
*ear of the persecutors. The holy priest
Justin, who had converted the proprietor
of the house, remained with those poor
creatures, instructing and ministering the
consolations of religion. Lawrence the dea-
con, whose sanctity was famous amongst the
Christians, was bringing the Viaticum to a
poor woman in the district, heard of Justin

"I"

334 The Victims of the Mamertine,

and hrs converts, and hastened to congra-
tulate them on their conversion. Having
arrived at the house, a strange scene oc-
curred.

Who has not heard of the dispute between
Paul and Anthony in the desert, who would
divide the small loaf of bread sent them by
God for their meal ? Each in his humility
gave precedence to the other. More touch-
ing still was a scene of humility recorded in
the Acts of this saint. St. Lawrence, enter-
ing, the room, threw himself on the ground
to kiss the feet of St. Justin; and St. Jus-
tin, with a similar impulse of humility, wish-
ed to kiss the feet of St. Lawrence. For
some time the two saints struggled with
each other to see who would have the pri-
vilege of kissing the feet of the other; at
length Justin, being reminded that he was
a priest and held the higher grade, yielded
to the triumph of the deacon.

Lawrence, hearing that his beloved Pon-
tiff was seizeid, flew across the city, and,
reaching the Forum, beheld the venerable
Sixtus in the midst of the soldiers and
proceeding to-wards th^ Mamertine. Re-
gardless of the crowd, he threw himself

Sixtus»

335

before the Holy Father, and from the
abundance of his heart poured fordi his
eloquent appeal to be allowed to join him
in the glory of his martyrdom. St. Am-
brose has preserved for us a touching de-
scription of the eloquence of the Levite
addressing Sixtus:

"Father, where art thou going without
thy son ? Holy priest, whither dost thou
proceed without thy deacon ? It was not
your custom to offer sacrifice without the
assistance of a minister. What, then, in
me hath displeased thee, father? Hast
thou found me unfaithful ? Put to the test
whether he whom you selected to be your
minister was worthy of that choice ; or,
after confiding in him the distribution of
the blood of the Lord and a share in the
consummation of the sacraments, do you
now refuse to let him share in the offer-
ing you are going to make of your own
blood? Did not Abraham offer his own
son, did not Peter send Stephen before
him ? And wilt thou not show thy affection
for thy son, and offer to heaven whom
thou hast educated for martyrdom ? "

Then Sixais, delighted with the fervor

33^ The Victims of the Mamertine,

of the Levite, and with looks beaming with
sympathy and affection, foretold to St. Law-
rence the crown prepared for him in heaven :

'* Son, it is not that I forsake thee or
refuse the ministry of my disciple, but that
you may remain for still more glorious
trials. To me, infirm and old, a smoother
course is assigned; but to thy youthful
vigor a conquest and triumph more glori-
ous. Cease to weep; in three days you
will follow me." Then he bade him dis-
tribute to the poor the little they had re-
served for the wants and exigencies jf the
Church.

Amidst the tears and lamentations of
the people he was led into the Mamer-
tine, to be cast into the lower dungeon
of that terrible prison. They spent the
time in prayer. A holy joy filled their
hearts, and they whiled away the lonely
hours in cheerful conversation. The beau-
ty of the angels„ the joys of heaven, and
the glories of God were inexhaustive
themes of enquiry on the eve of their in-
troduction to those scenes of bliss and
sounds of joy that never fell on mortal
eye or ear. They spoke of the ineffable

Sixtus.

drlights of the beatific vision, an ocean
of mjstery that no clouded heart could
conceive. These thoughts nerved them
for the momentary torments of martyr-
dom. On the third day they were sum-
moned again before the judge.

The casual reader may wonder how the
Acts are able to give the exact words
used when the martyrs stood before the
judges, especially as many of the Acts
were written years afte the events they
relate. This fact — the very words of the
conversation quoted in the Acts — is the
greatest proof of their authenticity. Con-
versations are the work of imagination in
fiction, but in the Acts of the Martyrs
they are reports of judicial proceedings.
The officials of the court were bound to
keep minutes of what passed before the
tribunal, and from these reports the Chris-
tians, either through bribery or favor, cop-
ied the report of many an interesting and
thrilling scene in connection with the mar-
tyrs. Some of these reports of the pagan
courts are still extant, and form in their
brief simplicity some of the richest pages
in the codex of the Acta Sanctorum. Thus,

33^ The PI dims of the Mamertine*

^ve generally give a literal translation of
the questions and answers that passed be-
tween the martyrs and their judges The
interview between the aged Pontiff Sixtus
and the impious Valerian was brief.

"We pity thy age," said Valerian. " Now
hear our commands, and sacrifice."

Sixtus answered: "Miserable man! think
of thyself; cease to blaspheme, but do
penance for the blood of the saints thou
hast shed." > ••x_: -

'One of the deacons with the Holy Father
cried out at this moment : " If you would
hearken to the advice given you by our
venerable father, you would escape the eter-
nal torments which are prepared for you."

Then Valerian, enraged, said: "These
men threaten even us with eternal tor-
ments ! Why do we permit them to live
any longer? Take them, lictors, to the
Temple of Mars, and, if they refuse to
sacrifice, let them be killed on the spot."

A great crowd followed once more to
the Temple of Mars ; amongst them, in
tears, was the Deacon Lawrence. Not that
he wept because his beloved Pontiff and fel-
low-deacons were being led to death, but

Sixtus,

Zl^

on of
id be-
The
Sixtus

"Now

1 think
but do
ts thou

Father
\ would
by our
lie eter-
r you."
" These
al tor-
to Hve
to the
fuse to
spot,
iiore to
em, in
ot that
land fel-
,th, but

because he was not condemned along witl>
them. His Acts tell us it was on this
occasion he was seized for crying out to
the holy Pontiff that he had no longer
any treasures to distribute, and had theie-
fore no reason to live any longer. The
soldiers, hearing something about trea-
sures, seized him, and, after the martyrdom
of Sixtus, he was brought back with them
to the city, and cast into the Mamertine.

Arrived at the Temple of Mars, the holy
Pontiff was asked would he sacrifice ; smil-
ing with pity on the silly soldiers — who,
perhaps, like the executioners of Jesus,
knew not what they were doing — turning
toward the immense pile that was raised
in costly magnificence to t le worship of
demons, he cried out: "May Christ, the
Son of God, destroy thee ! " Amen was
murmured by the Christians around. Im-
mediately part of the splendid temple
came tottering down with a crash like
thunder. It was the will of God that the
holy Pope should receive his crown of
martyrdom; and some of the soldiers who
were not converted, believing the miracles
of the Christians to be works of magic,

340 The Victims of the Mamertine.

led Sixtus and his two deacons to a small
hill alongside the temple, called Clizum
Martis. The aged Pontiff bent his head
to the sword, that it might be separated
from the flesh here and be crowned in
heaven. The two noble youths followed
him with unflinching bravery. The Chris-
tians around wept with sorrow, but the
angels wept " with joy. "^'^ ^

Their bodies were cast on the adjoining
plain to be devoured by birds and dogs, but
the Christians stole them in the night ; the
body of St. Sixtus they brought to the Cata-
combs of St. Callistus, and probably buried
it under the very spot he suffered ; the other
two, for some reason not mentioned, were
buried in the Catacombs of Prsetextatus,
which were probably a branch of those of
St. Callistus.

. The following passage, relative to the dis-
covery of the tomb of this holy Pontiff in
1850, will be read with gr'^at interest:

" This part of the Catacombs, discovered
by De Rossi, for ten centuries lost and for-
gotten, occupied the angular portion be-
tween the Via Appia and Ardeatina. It
consists of several distinct areas, supposed to

; of

red
for-
be-
lt
ito

Sixtus,

341

have been unconnected originally, from the
fact that the galleries that in some parts con-
nect them are not in the same level ; stair-
cases have had to be erected at the place of
junction. The most ancient area is that of
St. Lucina, which was begun in apostolic
times, probably by Pomponia Graicina, the
wife of Plautius, who conquered Britain.
That portion, however, to which most im-
portance is attached was added, most likely,
in the time of Marcus Aurelius. It is here
that the celebrated papal crypt is situated.
Some time before we come to it the graffiti*
warn us we are coming to a place of unusual
sanctity. These have often been the means
of great discoveries ; for they show that many
visitors have come to the place where they
are, and hence are a mark of its celebrity.
Very often, too, they make mention of names
that clear away a crowd of difficulties.

* These were names, verses, and scribblings on the walls
by generations that lived some thousand years ago, and visit-
ed, as we do now, through curiosity or devotion those memen-
tos of the past. It is generally supposed that this mode of im-i
mortalizing names obscure and unknown beyond a limited
family circle is a peculiar national failing of ti. Anglo-Saxons ;
but these discoveries in the newly opened Catacombs tell us
that the Romans of the Middle Ages also found a pleasure ia
this weakness.

342 The Victims of the Mamertinc,

Thus in the present instance there is fre-
quent reference to St. Sixtus — the great
saint of the Catacomb. The delight of the
discoverer on entering for the first time into
the papal crypt must have been very great
indeed. The place, the tombstone of St.
Cornelius, the writings on the walls, and
especially the frequent occurrence of the
name of St. Sixtus amongst them, had com-
bined to increase his conviction that he
had at last found out this chamber; but
n'ow that he entered, a sight met his eyes
that at once excluded all doubt. Lying
on the ground in various places were the
fragments which, when collected, proved to
be the monumental stones of SS. Antheros,
Fabian, Lucius, and Eutychianus, to three of
which the designation '^Ep'' was added. No-
where amidst the subterranean caverns had
an inscription as yet been found with this
afifix ; and though the term episcopus did
not seem to have been used in its restricted
sense till some time after the foundation of
Christianity, yet it had become fixed by the
middle of the third century. It could not,
therefore, but be remarkable that in tliis very
place, where so many signs were pointing as

Sixtus,

343

the probable burial-place of the bishops of
Rome, three out of four of the tablets before
him should have borne it. Moreover, an-
cient MSS. gave the names of SS. Anthe-
ros, Fabian, Lucius, and Eutychianus as
having sat in the chair of Peter during the
third century, and having been buried in the
cemetery of St. Callistus. At a little distance
was found another slab, which belonged to
the mensa or table of an altar-tomb. On it
was engraven in Greek characters " Urbanus
Ep." St. Urban was the name of the suc-
cessor of St. Callistus in the pontificate ; but
he is reported to have been buried, not in
this cemetery, but in that of St. Praetextatus.
De Rossi, however, had all along been led to
suspect with many other learned men that
there were two bishops of this name, who in
the ancient documents were occasionally con-
founded with one another — the first a martyr,
buried in the cemetery of St. Proctextatus ;
the second a pope and confessor, buried at St.
Callistus. The slab now before him made
this opinion more likely, and thus removed
the difficulty that hung over the Acts of St.
Cecilia. But Sixtus was the great martyr
of these Catacombs, and De Rossi sought

344 ^-^^ Victbns of the Mamertine.

anxiously for something which should testify-
to his having been buried here. This mar-
tyr, who is mentioned by St. Cyprian, lived
during the time of the Emperors Valerian
and Gallienus. These sovereigns issued a
decree forbidding the assemblies of the
Christians wont to be held in the cemeteries;
but St. Sixtus, in defiance of the order, re-
tired to the Catacomb of St. Preetextatus
(supposed to be a portion of that of St.
Callistus), which was supposed to be less
kriown, and was there saying Mass when
the soldiers surprised him, bore him to the
judgment-hall, thence to the Mamertine,
and then to the Temple of Mars, near
which, at the Clivtim Martis, they put
him to death — almost over the very spot
where they seized him. Four deacons
were executed with him ; two of whom
were burled on the spot; but the others
with Sixtus were taken to the papal crypt,
that the venerable Pontiff might repose
amongst his brethren. Many years after-
wards Pope Damasus marked the spot with
an inscription, the words of which have
been handed down to us. De Rossi found
a portion of this inscription in the cham-

Sixtus.

345

ber of the Pontiffs. The exact loculus of
the sacred relics has not yet, however,
been discovered.

't'H.

CHAPTER X.

LAWRENCE.

(August lo, 258.)

" You were used
To say extremities were the triers of spirits;
That common chances common men could bear;
That when the sea wts calm, all boats alike
Showed mastership in floating."

— SiiAKSPERE, Coriolanus.

OW inscrutable the ways of God!
He niaketh use of the httle
things of this world to confound
the strong. Often has the piety and sim-
ple eloquence of an humble maid brought
the lieht of faith to the homes of the
wealthy. Adverse winds that drive ths
strusJffrlinsf bark from its cour:>e have been
frequently destined in the mysterious ways of
divine Providence to bring the cross and the
consolations of religion to a people shrouded
with the dar ness of 11 cr->iition and error.
The trials and sorrows of life are the chan-

Lawrence,

347

nels of divine blessings ; and the impiety and
injustice of man, that have at times cast the
innocent servants of God into gloomy dun-
geons amid slaves and sinners, have but ful-
filled an eternal decree which destined them
to delight heaven with the tears of repent-
ance. The Acts before us open with a beau-
tiful and touching scene where we behold
this trpit of divine Providence in all its con-
soling triumph.

In a long, narrow street of the Eternal
City, on the slopes of the Viminal, and known
by the Italians as the " Urban Way amongst
the mountains,' there is a small church dedi-
cated to St. Lawrence. Around this litde
church there are hallowed reminiscences
known to few. Underneath is the horri-
ble, dark prison, formerly part of the house
of Hippolytus, where the young deacon Law-
rence was imprisoned. As the lofty water-
falls of Europe are called the little daughters
of Niagara, we may safely, by the same
stretch of imagination, call this terrible prison
the eldest daughter of the Mamertine. It
is at the foot of a tower to which a narrow,
Aviuding stairs conducted, and the brickwork
shows characteristics of the time of Adrian.

348 The Victims of the Mamcrline,

The prison is small, but joined by a dark cor-
ridor, which served, most probably, as a wine-
cellar. On the narrow stairs used in ancient
times there are clos(;d apertures in the walls,
supposed to lead " ito int(;rminable catacombs.
Local tradition states .; division of students
incautiously penetrated those catacombs and
never returned. We tremble at the awful
death of these young men ; their anxious
wanderings in those gloomy labyrinths of
the dead, their agonies of hunger and useless
shtieks for help. Buried alive in the womb
of the earth, they saved their survivors the
painful task of interment. The pious pilgrim
may here drink from the miraculous well that
sprang up at the prayer of Lawrence to bap-
tize the fortunate slaves that shared the
prison and the fate of the Levite. In this
narrow, dark recess we repair in spirit and
contemplate Lawrence amongst the slaves.
It is probable our saint was but one night
in the Mamertine. The prefect longed to
gratify his avarice with the confiscated trea-
sures of the Church, and early on the morn-
ing after his arrest at the Temple of Mars
Lawrence was brought before Valerian.
At the first interview he was treated with

Lawrence,

349

'ith

all the cunning of hypocrisy, which cloaked
for awhile the cruel and bloody designs of
the prefect. He was handed over to Hip-
polytus, who was to be sharer in the spoils
if he succeeded in wresting them from his
prisoner, whom we thus find cast into the
cellar of Mippolytus with the refractory
slaves of his household. Each wealtTiy
Roman had his own prison for the punish-
ment of his slaves. For minor trangres-
sions they were put into durance vile ; but
for graver offences they were invariably
cast into the Tiber from the island in the
heart of the city, or buried alive in the
horrible pits on the Esquiline.

Lawrence is an angel of consolation
amongst his fellow-sufferers. He soon made
their acquaintance ; he passed through them
with words of encouragement. The lively,
happy humor of the young Christian made
them forget the privations of their prison.
He enquired from each one the cause of his
trouble; one is condemned for accidentally
breaking an ornament; another had tarried
in the Forum or Circus when sent on an
errand ; another, a poor female slave, had
incurred the displeasure of the mistress by

350 The Victims of the Mamertine.

mislaying a jewel or daring to look in the
same mirror ; all told their sorrows and
pleaded innocence, although it were only to
gain the sympathy of their fellow-sufferers.
Lawrence had a smile and a consolation for
each. Amongst the prisoners he noticed
an old man whom the weight of years had
stooped, and whose hair had acquired the
snow of old age ; beside him was a young
man who did not join in the garrulous la-
mentations of the other slaves, but every
now' and then sobbed heavily. His tale
was a touching one. '

The old man, named Lucillus, was his
father. Through feebleness and blindness
he was dismissed as a useless burden by
one of the patrician tyrants of the city.
Cold and hungry, he sat at the palace-
gate of Hippolytus. The son had stolen
some food for him, and was caught in
the fact by the taskmaster, who cast both
into the cellar. But more: the young man
told Lawrence, with an anguish that tore
the fibres of his affectionate heart, that
as his father was blind and could be of
no use as a slave, now that they had the
excuse of theft, they would let him die of

Lawrence,

351

starvation or cast him down the Puticulum
of the EsquiHne.

Lawrence was moved to tears. That con-
soling sympathy which moves even the heart
of God for the suffering children of man was
reflected on the heart of the Levite. Like
lightning at night, the divine inspiration
flashed over his soul, and bade him cure the
blind man and save the companions of his
prison. He told the afflicted father and
weeping son the power of the name of
Jesus. In a few moments he secured the
promise of their faith. With outstretched
arms he asked the favor from God. An
exclamation of joy from the old man an-
nounced that the few struggling rays of light
that crept through the corridor of the wine-
cellar had fallen with refreshing brilliancy
on his sightless eyes — Lucillus could see 1

How tell the consoling issue of this mira-
cle ? The little cellar became a church ; it is
one still. The slaves were chained in silent
attention to the instructions of Lav/re nee.
He told them with many tears the thrilling
tale of the birth, life, and crucifixion of our
Blessed Lord ; the consolations the faith
of Christianity could bring to the poor,

352 The Victims of the Mamertine.

trampled victims of wealthy oppression ;
and the doctrines of immortality and eter^
nal joy. Oh ! what consolations had Law-
rence for those poor, suffering slaves, out-
casts of society, who never heard a kind
word, for whom the night of human misery
was long and dark, and on whom his words
fell like refreshing rain on a parched soil —
the first dawn of Christian hope for souls
that sat in the darkness of the tomb, the
shadow of death. They declared their de-
sire 'to become Christians ; and Lawrence,
like Peter in the Mamertine, bade the rock
give him water, and a fountain flowed at
his feet, pure as the crystal waters of the
mountain spring. Before sunset on that
auspicious day the fortunate slaves, twenty-
one in number, in the cellars of Hippolytus
were able to sing with the holy Levite, in
the words of the royal prophet: "Who is
like to the Lord our God, who lives on high,
and looks on the lowly things in heaven and
on earth ; raising up the needy from the
earth, and lifting up the poor from the dung-
hill ; that he may place them with princes,
with the princes of the people." *

* Psalm cxii. '

Lawrence,

353

At sunset the servants came to give the
scanty food to the imprisoned slaves. When
they opened the prison-door, sounds of joy
greeted them Hke the sweet odors of flowers
that rush through the door of a conservatory.
The miracles of Lawrence, the poor man's
sight, the miraculous well, the joy that could
not conceal itself, were told by many voices
at the same time. Some stayed to question
Lucillus, others gazed in wonder at the
fountain, whilst others ran to acquaint their
master of the strange doings in the prison.

Hippolytus was one of these simple, up-
riidit souls. Gifted with natural virtue, his
thoughts were religious, though, through
ignorance, directed to the worship of false
gods. His heart could feel sympathy for
the sorrows of his fellow-creatures. His
religious prejudice— the fruit of early train-
ing — but needed one ray of light to be
lifted from his thoughts like the mist that
hangs over the lake until banished by the
sun. He came to the prison, accompanied
by his family. Conviction entered his
soul, and grace completed a triumph ; cast-
ing himself at the feet of Lawrence, he
begged to be made a Christian.

354 Tke Victims of the Mamertine.

The pilgrim to the Eternal City may
to this day drink from the miraculous
fountain from which Hippolytus and his
family were baptized ; and amongst the
relics which tradition venerates in the
Basilica of St. Lawrence is a copper ves-
sel used bv the saint on the occasion of
this ceremony. Nothing could be more
consoling to the earnest student of his-
tory than the evidence of early Christi-
anity, read in those memorials of the
past. When we pore over the thrilling
records of this brave youth's miracles and
martyrdom, it must be with feelings of
conviction and deeper reverence we visit
the self-same wine-cellar and prison be-
neath the house of Hippolytus where
God was pleased to manifest his glory
and power in his saints.

Lawrence has become the friend of the
blind. The cure of Lucillus rolled on the
wings of fame through the city. Others
came to the youth whose word, like the
mighty fiat of God, ordered light to exist
for the darkened world of the blind.
Innumerable conversions were effected

Lawrence,

355

amongst the poor, for whom our youthful
siiint had a special love.

Our readers are doubtless aware Law-
rence was the martyr that suffered the
awful death of being roasted on a grid-
iron ; a glance at the circumstances that
led to this unparalleled act of cruelty
gives an insight into the character of this
brave champion of the faith, and must
console thuse who, in the misfortunes of
life, are ranked amongst the poor of Jesus
Christ.

Once more before the tribunal of Valerian
he is asked for the treasures of the Church.
Lawrence requested three days to collect
them ; the request was granted, and the pre-
fect exulted in dreamy anticipation of a heap
of gold. The youth returned to the house
of Hippolytus more as a guest than a prison-
er. He spent the three days in gathering
to the house of Hippolytus the poor, the
sick, the lame, the imbecile ; those on
whom the hand of misfortune had fallen,
whose tattered garments and pale, starv-
ing features told the woes of crushing
poverty. On the third day he was fol-
lowed to the tribunal of the prefect by

35^ The Victims of the Mameriine,

a sorrow-stricken crowd. Lawrence was
cheerful and gay, and seemed to anticipate
the disappointment and lesson he was
about to give the avaricious judge. Amidst
a death-like stillness, in which the specta-
tors of the court awaited the revelations
of the Christian, Valerian asked, "Where
are the treasures of the Church ? "

Lawrence made a sign, and in a moment
every vacant space of the hall was occupied
by .the poor wretches who had accompanied
him] The satellites of the judge gazed at
each other in silence and astonishment,
whilst the fearless deacon, looking with a
cheerful smile on the friends of that God
who was born in a stable, waving his hand
towards them, said in a loud voice: "There,
tyrant, are the treasures of the Church."*

A large crowd had assembled to see the
gifts to be presented to the prefect, but the
keenness of their disappointment manifested
itself in a low, menacing murmur. T\\f^. dis-
comfiture of the tyrant was apparent, and
Lawrence, conscious of a victory, stood un-

* " Ubi sunt ecclesiiB fucultatcs? At ille extendens manum
In pr\upere«, H;ec sunt, inqiiit, ecclesiao facultates!" — L\'
Peter Chrys. in Serin, 135,

Lawrence,

357

dauntedly before him with folded arms, and
quietly awaiting the sentence that would be
dictated by his impotent rage. He trembled
on his seat ; the blood rushed to his bloated
features, and his hand was clenched. A
thousand cruel deaths would not satiate
the revenge of that moi lent. When he
could control himself to speak, he stam-
mered forth : " Seize him, lictors, and
scourge him ! "

Valerian looked on with fiendish delight
whilst the tender flesh of Lawrence was torn
with scorpion-whips. He would have given
half his wealth to wring one sigh, one ac-
knowledgment of pain, from the brave youth.
But, silent, his eyes closed and arms folded,
Lawrence was wrapt in meditation on the
scourging of Jesus in the hall of Pilate.
Heated iron plates were prepared by order
of Valerian and applied to his sides, which
were now raw and bloody by the tearing
fangs of the scorpion-lashes. All the instru-
ments of torture which were kept in readi-
ness were brought. Any one of them would
destroy poor frail humanity, yet could not
shake- the firmness of a martyr; nor could
they in their aggregate horrors satiate the

35^ The Victims of the Mamertine.

rage of the incensed judge. After some
time Valerian had Lawrence brought be-
fore the statue of Jupiter, in whose temple
they were assembled, in the foolish hope he
would now yield and sacrifice. Arrived be-
fore the statue, he said, '• Sacrifice to the
gods, and cease to put your trust in the
treasures you have concealed."

Lawrence replied, " I both trust in them
and I am sure of them."

Well he knew they were preserved for
him4n the archives of heaven, where no
thieves can enter, where no moth or rust
can consume.

We need not detail the harrowing series
of torture — scorpions, burning plates, the in-
describable agonies of the rack, and all the
horrible ingenuities of human cruelty tried
in turn. So severe were these torments that
Lawrence prayed that God would let him
die. But a voice replied from heaven that
even greater torments were yet to be borne ;
at the same time a flood of spiritual conso-
lation was poured upon his soul, and in
an ecstasy of joy he asked God to let the
people see how he consoled his servants.*

* Et cum dcntiisimc cum plumbatiscsederctur, dixit, Doiuino

Lawrence.

359

Suddenly one of the soldiers pauses in his
work of torture; with exclamations of sur-
prise and delight his eyes are fixed on a
beautiful vision. 'Tis the guardian angel of
Lawrence applying odoriferous lint to the
bleeding wounds.* He immediately loosens
the handles of the rack, and, lifting the saint
from his torture, throws himself at his feet,
and begs to be made a Christian. To the
surprise of the judge he rushed out of the
room, and returned in a moment bearing a
copper vessel filled with water. St. Law-
rence blessed the water and baptized him.

Like hounds that have suddenly broken
from the scent of the wearied stag, and
rush with a louder hue-and-cry on a fresh
one that has started from his lair, the
enraged judge turned with all his fury on
the brave Romanus. The rough soldier,
in one glance at an angel, caught the in-

Jesu Christe, . . . accipe spiritum meum. El audita est
vox. Adhuc multa certamina tibi debentur. . . . Qu
subridens et gratias agens dicebat: Benedictus es Domine
noster Jesu Christe, qui nobis donasti misericordiam qua n
meriti non sumus. Sed tu Domine propter pietatem tuam da
nobis gratiam, ut cognoscant omnes circumstantes quia tu
coHSolaiis servos tuos. — Acts of St, Lawrence.

* Video ante tchominem pulcherrimum stantem cum lintco
et cxtcrgcutcm uicmbra tua, — Ib^

360 The Victims of the Mamei^tine,

spiration of the sublime mysteries of Cliris-
tianity. Faith and courage so filled his
soul that he desired now to suffer the very
torments he h?d so cruelly inflicted on the
tenr'cr fv- \r >; Lawrence. Unable to re-
strain th.^ ftrst ir pulse of faith that had falka
like lightning on li .. heart, he rushed towards
the judge and cried out, " I am a Christian ! "

The judge ordered his companions to
scourge him. In the meantime Lawrence
was removed to another room in the palace,
sti'll under the care of Hippolytus, and many
other Christians came to console him ; he
was allowed a respiti of a few hours whilst
the impious Valerian was venting his fury
on Romanus.

The brave soldier bore his scourging with-
out moving a muscle or giving one expres-
sion of pain. He had learned the power of
divine grace in the invincible Levite, and felt
the consolation of being able to repeat, like
him, the holy name of " Jesus." At length
the tyrant ordered the soldier to be brought
outside the city and be executed. On his
way to the Porta Salara he recounted to his
companions what he saw, and, by a divine
and newly-acquired eloquence, sought to in-

Lawrence,

361

duce tlidn to abandon the foolish worship of
idols, to become Christians. Romanub was
one of those f'^w and heaven-inspired mar-
lyrb who were only asked to exercise their
faith In Jesus for a few hours in the storms
of time, that they might bask for ever in the
unclouded sunshine of eternal truth. 's:io
further particulars are given us of this i^int
He is celebrated in the martyrologies t '2
Qth of August — not' on the same day as ^t.
Lawrence ; for the latter did not past* «: aus
crown until after the midnight following.
The copper vessel from which he was bap-
tized is said to be still preserved in the Ba-
silica of St. Lawrence, where also are ven-
erated his relics.*

It was the 9th of August, 258. The sun
had set on this day, ever memorable in the
annals of the Church, and night was gather-
ing over the city. The impious Valerian re-
turned to the Baths of Sallust, after a heavy
repast and half stupefied with wine, to recom-
mence his feast of cruelty on the martyrs of
Jesus Christ. The holy deacon was once
more brought before him, whilst the imple-
ments of torture that were again to rack and

* Acts of St. Lawrence, Aug. 10.

-->->£

362 The Victims of the Mamertine,

tear his tender flesh jingled together as they
were carried on the shoulders of the execu-
tioner.* When Lawrence was summoned
from the rcom in which he had been con-
fined with Hippolytus, a touching scene oc-
curred. The feelings of Hippolytus toward
Lawrence had rung, like the different chimes
of bells, all the changes of contempt, venera-
tion, and gratitude- and the two latter had
now united to fill his heart with love. In
desire to be united with the holy youth, and
in zeal to proclaim his faith in Jesus Christ,
for a moment he struggled with Lawrence to
be allowed to go before him to the tribunal
of Valerian and declare himself a Christian.
With tears in his eyes he said to Lawrence,
" Why can't I too shout out that I am a
Christian ? " f But the gentle reproof of
Lawrence .nade him forbear ; for the hour of
his trial had not yet come. Resigned, and
wrapt in his toga, he stood one side, and
with silent tears, quickly brushed away, he
watched the closing scene of this thrilling
tragedy.

'/Cast aside this perfidy of magic," said

*" Etallata sunt cum eo omnia genera tormentorum." — lb,
+ "Quare ego non vociferor Christianus sum."— //^

Lawrence,

3<53

Valerian with a stutter, and scarcely know-
ing what he said, " and tell us your history."

Lawrence, with scarcely a portion of his
body sound, looked, as it were with pity, on
the tyrant, and answ red mildly: "I am a
Spaniard by birth, educated at R.ome, and
from my childhood a Christian, instructed
in every holy and divine law."

" Sacrifice, then, to the gods," roared Val-
erian, interrupting him ; " if thou dost not,
the whole of this night will be spent in tor-
menting you."*

" Ah ! " replied Lawrence, " my night has
no darkness; everything shines in bright-
ness."

Although these words {omnia in hue da-
resamt) have the mystic meaning of faith,
we could fancy he was permitted by God to
see the brilliant glare that illumined the
night from the flames quickened by the
melting flesh of his own burning body.

He ordered him to be beaten on his mouth
with stones ; but Lawrence smiled. Then
his bed was brought in.f

The bed of St. Lawrence ! It was iron ;

* " Nox ista expendetur in te cum suppliciis."
f "Allatus est lectus cum tribus costis." — lb.

364 The Victims of the Ma f iter tine,

it luul cross-bars, too, about a foot from the
^.rouiul. The soft down on which he was to
rest iiis wounded body were the lanibient
flames that leaped up from the blazmg
fagots ! A bed is associated with thoughts
of repose ; the wearied mind and body seek
the sweet refreshment of sleep. Oh ! how
the bed of Lawrence must make us shudder
to think of the awful bed of the damned soul.
For the martyr, the fire of divine love con-
sulted his spirit with more vigor than the
flames that kissed and fed on his chaste
flesh ; but a bed of fire without the conso-
lation of hope, without end, not permitted,
but kindled, by God — O Christian 1 think
and tremble.

Lawrence was cast on his'bed. The ex-
pressions of the holy martyr during his final
torments are very touching — at one moment
fearlessly reproving the tyrant, and then
turning to God in all gratitude of a cheer-
ful spirit. .

** Learn, impious tyrant, the power of my
God. Your burning coals are for me re-
freshing ; for you they will burn in eternity.
Thou, O Lord! knowest that when accused I
have not denied ; when questioned, I have

Lawrence.

365

answered ; and when tortured, I liave given
thanks ! " Then, with a beautiful counte-
nance, he said, " I thank thee. Lord Jesus
Christ, because thou hast deigned to com-
fort me."

A^ain, looking up towards Valerian, as
tlui flames were being fed by the dripping
flesh: "Heboid, one side is roasted; turn
me, and then eat!"* In a faint, sinking
voice he said: *• I thank thee, O Lord Jesus!
that I have deserved to pass through thy
gates," and breathed forth his pure soul
into the hands of God, whose angels were
waidng by this awful scene of triumph to
congratulate and hasten with the soul of the
Christian hero to their own bright, happy
home, where no tyrant's frown and no pain
can be felt.

With horrible cruelty they left his body on
the iron grating to be still burnt as long as
there /as heat in the smouldering faggots.
Valerian and his prefect repaired to their
beds of luxury and down ; but far prefer-
able was the bed of Lawrence, refreshed
like a couch of roses, and cooled by the

* " Ecce miser assasti unam partem ; regyra aliam et uian*
duca."

366 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

balmy clew of spiritual consolation, from
wliich he rose with the sun to a glorious
eternity, to the thorny and demon-haunted
couch of the insensate tyrants guilty of
such horrible murder. But the hour of
vengeance is not far off; 'tis coming up
like a whirlwind on the deep. f^.

II.

After gathering the charred bones of
Lawrence, and hiding them in the gar-
den of Cyriaca, Hippolytus returned to his
house, sad and foreboding. He could not
banish the memory of the wondrous scene
he had witnessed. Rut he knew his own
hour was not far off ; lie arranged all his
temporal matters, set his slaves free, and
distributed his goods to the poor. Whilst
calmly and patiently preparing for his trial,
about three days after the martyrdom of
Lawrence, about the second hour after mid-
day, It was announced to him that the house
was surrounded with soldiers. They seized
him and brought him before Decius.

" So you also have become a magician,"

Lawrence,

367

said Decius, ** and stolen the body of Law-
rence."

Hippolytus replied, " Yes, I have ; not as
a magician, but as a Christian."

The judge ordered him to be struck
across the mouth for having uttered such
words, to be beaten, and then to have
his Christian garments taken off.*

He was also scourged. Whilst the heavy
blows were falling on him, he found his con-
solation in crying out, "I am a Christian."

The judge then tried to seduce him by
blandishments, and ordered him to be cloth-
ed in rich military garments, according to
his rank. Decius then said to him, " Be
nTindful of your military rank, and be our
friend as formerly, and enjoy the rewards
of your service."

" Now my profession is to declare my-
self a faithful Christian soldier," replied
Hippolytus.

But some terrible scenes were to pass be-
fore he would suffer the awful death prepared
for him. They came to his house, in order
to seize on everything he had, and he was
brought thither in chains with the soldiers

« «

Expoliataque veste qua ceu Christianus utebatur."

fHfW I I I ' i»».a»».

368 The Victims of the Afamertine.

and prefect, Valerian. The members of his
household were summoned before the judge;
but he found them, like their master, Chris-
tians. Amongst them there was an old
domestic named Concordia; she had been
Hippolytus' nurse, and was now a pension-
er in the family, loved and respected by
all, especially by the grateful and noble
soldier, her foster-child, now in chains for
the faith. At the sight of Hippolytus in
the hands of the soldiers, as she knew, in
transit to his doom, she burst into tears.

The agents of the prefect, seeing the
household of Hippolytus much affected,
were encouraged rather than moved to
sympathy. He cried out to them : " Be
mindful of yourselves, or you will suffer
with your master." But Concordia, weep-
ing, cried out aloud: "We will die with
our master ; it is better to die Christians
than live in your contamination."

Valerian, frowning with anger on the old
nurse, ordered the soldiers to bring her for-
ward, saying, "A race of slaves can be
cured only with the lash ! " She was cru-
elly beaten with the rods of the lictor's
axe ; tliey had scarcely comme:iced their

Lawrence,

369

barbarous treatment of the faithful old ser-
vant when she gave her soul into the
hands of God.*

Hippolytus raised his eyes to heaven,
and, with a sigh that told of an internal
struggle, said : " I thank thee, O Lord !
that thou hast permitted her to be
amongst thy saints."

Valerian then ordered the household of
the saint to be brought outside the Porta
Tiburtina, and be executed before their
master's eyes.

The brave Hippolytus encouraged them
to be firm; 1 ke the master of a forest, who
stands by whilst his servants are cutting
down the beautiful and ancient trees that
cover the ground, this master stood by
while the axe felled the members of his
household. He spoke to each slave, now
become a Christian, with an affectionate
and encouraging sympathy. Amongst the
victims of that morning was the poor blind
man whose cure broucrht such blessinofs on
all ; his fjon too, happy in the blissful
thougl\t hi:> father would never want in the
world he was about to exchange for this.

* " Ea duin caederetur einisit s>iritum." — Acts Sutius,

370 The Victims of the Mamertine

In Grecian fables there was an Hippo-
lytus, the ill-fated and injured son of the
warlike Theseus. Unconsciously he be-
came the victim of a lustful passion in his
mother-in-law. He rejected with scorn her
base suggestions ; she accused him, like
Potiphar, in her revenge. He was banish-
ed and cursed by his father. Leaving
Athens for Troezen, his horses took flight,
frightened, it is said, by a sea-monster ; he
was cast from his chariot, and, entangled
in the reins, was dragged over stones
and rugged paths. The thrilling scene,
described in the sublime tragedy of the
French poet, serves us as a key to the
Acts of the Christian hero who thus won
his crown. The frightened horses rushed
with their victim in headlong speed :

" La frayeur les emporte ; et, sourds a cette fois,

lis ne connaissent plus ni le frein ni la voix ;

En efforts impuissants leur maitre se consume ;

lis rougissent le mors d'une sanglante ecume.

On dit qu'on a vu meme, en ce desordre affreux,

VJn liiu quid'aiguillons pressait leur flanc poudreux.

A travers les rochors la peur les precipite ;

L'e-^sieu <"rie et. se romp : I'intrepide Ilijipolj'te
' Voii voier en eclats tout son char fracasse ;

"Oans les renes lui-m€me il tombe embarrass^.

.^atvrence.

37^

Excusez »r>a doulcur ; cette image cruelle

Sera pour moi de pleurs une source eternelle :

J'ai vu, seigneur, j'ai vu votre malheureux fils

Traine par les chevaux que sa main a nourris.

II veut les rappeler, et sa voix les efFraie ;

lis courent : tout son corps n'est bient&t qu'une

plaie.
De nos cris douloureux la plaine retentit.
Leur fougue impetueuse enfin se ralentit.
lis s'arretent non loin de ces tombeaux antiques
Ou des rois ses aleux sont les froides reliques.
J'y cours en soupirant, et sa garde me fuit.
De son genereux sang la trace nous conduit ;
Les rochers en sont teints ; les ronces degouttantes
Portent de ses cheveux les depouilles sanglantes.
J 'arrive, je I'appelle ; et me tendant la main,
II ouvre un cell mourant qu'il renferme soudain:
*Le ciel, dit il, m'arrache une innocente vie.
Prends soin apres nia mort de la triste Aricie.
Cher ami, si mon pere, un jour desabuse,
Plaint le malheur d'un fils faussement accus6,
Pour appaiser mon sang et mon ombre plaintivP-
Dis-lui qu'avec douceur il traite sa captive ;
Qu'il lui rende — ' A ce mot ce heros expire
N'a laisse dans mes bras qu'un corps defigure :
Triste objet ou des dieux triomphe la colere,
Et que meconnailrait I'oeil menie de son per . " *

Behold the awful death destined for the
brave soldier who, in the third century, was
to give in the name of Christianity an his-
toric reality to this tragic fable of Grecian
mythology.

•*" CEuvres de Racine," tome ii. p. 405.

372 The Victims of the Mamertine.

Whilst the executioners of his household
"were gazing on the mangled victims that
now lay still and terrible in a pool of
blood, the sound of horses' feet are heard.
A centurion of the cavalry came galloping
to the residence of Hippolytus with two
of the most spirited animals in the corps.
The brave Christian had learned how to
die. The poor, illiterate, and neophyte
domestics of his house had bravely fallen
before his eyes. In the days of his mili-
tary glory, and under the spur of vain am-
bition, he dared death in the battle-throng;
could he now flinch when God and eterni-
ty demanded the sacrifice ? With a smile
of joy he gave his hands to the ropes that
were to bind him. The fatal knots tied,
the excited steeds were set free. They
plunged and reared like war-horses impa-
tient for the charge of batde. They seemed
to know a great .work was before them —
the will of God in the death of Hippoly-
tus. They dash forward at full speed. An-
gels hovered over the bloody track to re-
ceive the martyr's spirit ; and before the
panting chargers slackened, their speed the
soul of Hippolytus was greeted at the por-

liil

Lawrence,

373

tals of heaven by Sixtus, Lawrence, Con-
cordia, and the martyred members of his
houseliold, in the crimson-stoled galaxy of
happy spirits who follow the Lamb where-
soever he goeth.

III.

But the last act in this thrillinof tra-
gct\y is yet to come. It brino^s us once
more to the mighty womb of the Colise-
um, resounding with the thund^ r of thou-
sands of united voices, and rcc;king with
the blood that flows throuj^h this hucre
wine-press of martyrdom. The prefects
Valerian and Decius had ordered a /tie
in the amphitheatre, and as part of the
performance the Christians were tL> be
dragged from their prisons and exhibited
to the mockeries of the mob."'

On the appointed day the ralers weffi
driven to the Coliseum in a ^^kiei' cha-
riot; its 100,000 benches werr hiiBsil iqp
to the large veil that covered
dous opening towards die h<
the theatre ranir with the usual sftDuts of

.":>

*• " Mrltorumque martyrum funestas caedes exiiiberent.'*—
.4f/rt H'ittolvd Smius

374 ^-^^ Victims of the Mamertine.

the impatient crowd. When the prefects
took their seats, and the acclamations of *
the people — who, perhaps, but applauded
for the sake of the noise they made — had
subsided, the shrill blast of the editor's
trumpet announced that the games had
commenced. But heaven had decreed that
the Christians should not be mocked on
this occasion, and the blasphemies intended
for God and the amusement intended for
the people should be interrupted by an
awfiil scene of judgment on his enemies.
Valerian gave the murderer of Lawrence
the order, " Bring in the Christians."
That moment he was seized by a devil.
He gave an uneardily yell of pain that
rang through the amphidieatre. All eyes
are turned towards the royal dais he oc-
cupies. Distinctly they hear him cry out:
" O Hippolytus ! you bind me with hor-
rible chains." In the same moment De-
cius falls to the ground; he too is possess-
ed by the devil. Writhing in an agony
of pain, he cried out in a voice of ter-
ror: **0 Lawrence! you drag me with
burning chains ! "

Another fearful shriek from Valerian ; he

Lawrence,

375

IS lifted in the air and flung to the ground, a
hideous corpse. Decius, putting his hands
to his head, ran through the people scream-
ing; he made his way through the crowd,
and pushed towards his own palace. The
sudden death of Valerian put an end to the
games, and the sudden retreat of Decius was
attributed to grief and fear. The Christians
were brought back to their prisons, and the
people dispersed with feelings of awe tliat
made them remember that eventful morning.
For three days Decius lay on his couch,
howling in the agonies of possession. The
flames that burned the body of Lawrence
seemed to be carried in the hands of demons
from the bed of his awful death and flung
around the couch. Every torture the demons
could inflict, the same pains he intended for
Lawrence in his passion, pressed in united
virulence on the tyrant ; from morn till night
he cried out in piercing agony, " O Law-
rence ! I beseech you give me some relief."
He had no pity for Lawrence, and the
demons will not have it for him now. The
palace was filled with grief. Physicians
were baffled; no wealth nor power could
afford a moment's relief.

37^ The Victims of the Mamertine,

Tryphonia, his wile, terrified at his awful
condition, and knowing from his utterances
that he was tortured on account of the Chris-
tians, ordered Hberty to be given to all who
were in prison for the name of Christ. On
this occasion the Mamertine, the Claudian,
and the keeps of the Agonal Circus * were
opened to the suffering followers of Christ;
but the tyrant was weighed in the just bal-
ance of eternal justice, and when he had suf-
fered all the excruciating pangs he had in-
tended for his guiltless victim, still uttering
unmeaning blasphemies against the God of
the Christians, with screams of agony that
ring from the death-bed of the despairing,
he gave up his soul to the demons. r'

Tryphonia and her daughter Cyrilla were
converted by this awful judgment of God,
and were baptized by Justin. Tryphonia
died a holy and happy death Cyrilla was
martyred for the faith, in all the bloom of
her virginity, under the Emperor Claudius.
Forty-six soldiers, with their wives and chil-
dren, were also converted, and were after-
wards martyred outside the Salarian Gate
with one hundred ar d twenty others, who

*No\v tt>e prison of St. Agnes, in the Piazza Navona.

\^^

Lawrence,

Z77

wers the harvest of the martyrs' blood. At
the martyrdom of this numerous household
four soldiers, named Theodosius, Lucius,
Marcus, and Peter, stepped forward and
begged they might be put to death first,
with the noble intention of giving courage
to the others by their own brave encounter
of death.

IV.

■»...•

We will close these thrilling scenes of
martyrdom with a few facts connected with
the relics and devotion that have existed in
after-ages towards the heroes of this sketch.

He who cast sympathy into the pagan
heart to make the very executioners of the
Christians respect their sacred remains ;
who sent lightnings through a cloudless sky
to frighten away the night-watches p'aced
over the martyred dead ; who ordered his
servants by angelic messengers to give
honorable interment to the victims of
pagan cruelty, saved from obloquy and
disrespect the remains of the aged nurse
of Hippolytus.

The holy priest Justin, like another To-
bias, indefatiofable in his zeal in seeUinof

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(716)a73-4S03

378 The Victims of the Mamertim, ■

the bodies of the martyrs, had found all
the bodies of these Acts except one; it
was that of Concordia. The good priest
prayed and fasted, that God would deign
to let him know where he could find the
body of the martyred nurse. • He knew
they had cast it with contempt into some
sewer or cloaca. If the Christians had
saved it, some sepulchral monument in the
Catacombs would have declared her tri-
umph and sleep of peace. But day after
day Jie watched, and no mournful proces-
sion passed the gloomy corridors of the
dead, bringing him the treasure he ear-
nestly sought. The feelings of humanity,
refined and elevated under the purifying
influence of Christian love, demand our
feeble efforts to honor the departed, to cast
around the bier of the loved one the hom-
age of affectionate memories and regrets.
Towards those who have ended life in the
odors of sanctity, whose deaths are pre-
cious, all feelinofs merofe into religious awe
and veneration. Thus was the respect for
the martyred dead of the early Church ; it
was deep, holy, and sincere.

Justin's zeal was rewarded. One day a

Lawrence

379

strange man came to see him. He was in
charge of some sewers of the city, and was
secretly a Christian. He stated to Justin
that a soldier had told him in great se-
crecy where the body of Concordia was
concealed, and he believed she had still
some ornaments and jewels, gifts of her mas-
ter, at the time of her death, and promised
to share the spoils with him if he would
assist him to get them. Having consent-
ed, he came to acquaint Justin of the dis-
covery. Justin and the cloacarius went
together to the spot indicated ; they found
the body incorrupt, but without any gold
treasures, as they shrewdly guessed before-
hand. It was itself a treasure more valu-
able than its weight in gold.* They
brought it to the garden of Cyriacus,
where they laid it near the other victims
of this terrible persecution.

■' It happened in the time Alexander
II. reigned in the chair of Peter, and

*'*Et invenit sacrum corpus Inrontaminntum, quaerens
autem in vestibus ejus nihil lepererunt." — Acts Surius.

380 The Victims of the Mamertine.

Henry was King of Saxony, there lived a
man as remarkable for his wealth as for
his crimes. Loaded with many vices,
stained with many a dark, deed of crime,
he had, however, one virtue — it was devo-
tion towards St. Lawrence. Every year
he celebrated his festival with extraordi-
nary zeal for the glory of this saint. He
procured that lights should be burnt in his
church the whole night of the vigil of the
festival, and the divine Office sung by dif-
ferent choirs of priests and deacons whom
he brought from surrounding districts and
rewarded as if conferring a favor on him-
self On his festival he gave large alms
to the poor, many of whom he also enter-
tained in his own palace. But the most
remarkable expression of his piety, and
one which is extraordinary in the legend
we are about to relate, was the gift of a
splendid gold chalice to the church of the
saint* ,: ,r

His charity, his devotion, though per-
haps alone and strange, like a solitary star
in a clouded night, was not forgotten by

* Calicein aureum miro opere compositum cum duabus
manicis tidn fecit.

Lawrence*

381

the glorious martyr, who is powerful in
heaven. He gained for this man grace to
make acts of perfect contrition at the hour
of death, and, although dying with the
stamp of guilt in die judgment of men, yet
was saved in the judgment of God. It
pleased the Almighty to let this fact be
known by an extraordinary allegory or
vision shown to a holy hermit who lived
in a little cell retired from the world, and
spent his days in prayer and preparation
for eternity, near the district where thi^
rich man lived, and for whose complete
conversion this holy hermit often prayed.

One beautiful night, when all was still,
the moon shining in the brilliant plenitude
of her subdued light, this holy man was
wrapt in prayer. Suddenly he heard the
noise and shout of people approaching his
cell ; as they came near he heard laughter,
clapping of hands, and unearthly screams
which betoken great joy. Disturbed and
wondering, he went to the window of his
little cell to see the cause of this strange
nocturnal gathering in that lonely place.
He saw a crowd of horrid-looking men
carrying the body of a dead man in the

382 The Victims of the Mamertine.

greatest precipitation and haste. The her-
mit called one of the men, who was at the
outskirt of the crowd, and said to him,
"Who are you, and what brings you
here?"

He answered : " I can't wait to tell you
now; for I must follow my companions to
be present at the victory we have gained
over this man, who is dead."

The saint, understanding they were de-
mons hurrying to the judgment of some
poor 'soul, said: "I command you by the
eternal judgment to return to me and tell
me whatever happens." The demon, pro- ^
mising to obey, ran after the others, who

had already disappeared in the darkness.

After an hour had passed behold the same
multitude of malignant spirits returned and
passed again by the hermit's cell ; but now
weeping, howling with grief, moving slowly
with downcast looks, and wringing their
hands, showing signs of terrible sorrow. '■
Seeing their confusion and shame, the man
of God was anxiously awaiting the demon
he had bound to return to learn the mean-
ing of this extraordinary proceeding. The
demon came. He spoke thus to the hermit :

Lawrence,

38J

" I am ashamed to tell you the disgrace
that has fallen on me and my companions.
Know that this man who has just died was
a public sinner. He was a robber, a perjurer,
and an adulterer; in fact, he had no virtues
and many vices. Well, he died, and of
course we came to take him, as you have
seen. But when we came to the judgment,
the angel who had the care of him said,
* There is no use in coming here; for he is
mine.' But we showed him the book in
which all his evil deeds were written, and
then the angel showed us a book in which
were written his good actions ; and in
the dispute we agreed to put them into
the scales. We did so, and the good book
went right up in the air, and ours weighed
the scales down to the ground. We set
up a shout of joy that reached to heaven,
when immediately appeared Lawrence — that
man that was burned — bearing the sign of
the cross in his right hand. ' What's this ? '
said he. 'Justice must be done.' Saying
this, he drew from* his bosom a golden
chalice, and, casting it violently into the
lighter side of the scales, broke one of its
handles. Our side went up then, and Law-^

384 The Victims of the Mamertine,

rence, taking the soul of the dead iiT'l,
brought it with him to heaven. Seeing
this, our prince and all my companions
were turned from great joy into grief, and
covered with shame and sorrow. You see
them returning from the judgment. And
if you doubt my word, send one of your
disciples into the city, and you will find
the man who has given the chalice to the
church is dead, and the chalice is broken ;
moreover, he will find the priests disputing
who broke it, each one suspecting the other."

Having spoken thus, the demon got per-
mission to join his companions ; and the
hermit understood how God wished him to
know that, by the intercession of St. Law-
rence, this man had obtained the grace of
conversion. He passed the remainder of
the night in prayer, thanking God for the
glory he was pleased to give to his saints.

By daybreak next morning he sought
the hut of a disciple on the side of a
neighboring hill, and, without explaining
what had happened, the man of God bade
him "go into the city and enquire if the
Count Henry be dead; and, going to the
church, ask to see the chalice he gave in

Lawrence.

38s

honor of St. Lawrence, and, if there be a
dispute amongst the priests about it, tell
them to come to me and I will set matters
right."

The disciple went to the city, wondering
at the commission given him by the holy
hermit. All happened as made known to
him : the wealthy man had died suddenly
during the night, and the whole city was
in great terror; for they knew he led a bad
life. Then, in the church, the chalice was
shown, and the dispute arose who broke it.
The priests came to the servant of God,
who narrated his vision. The city was filled
with joy; Masses were celebrated, the Te
Deum chanted, and the devotion of the peo-
ple towards the glorious martyr increased a
hundredfold.

Of the broken chalice, we find its after-
history somewhat doubtful. One MS. says
it was sent to Rome to the Basilica of
St. Lawrence; but one of the abbots, with
more virtue than wisdom, broke it up to
make other chalices out of^* \ "

*"Sed abbas predicti loci zelutn Dei habeas, sed non
secundum scientiam, eundem caMccm fregit,** etc.-— jfftf//a«.
distSt lot A Aug.

386 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

Another version states that the chah'ce
was preserved in the Cathedral Church of
Bamberg, where it may be seen, in an
altered form, to the present day.

This strange vision seems to have some
semblance of truth about it, but most prob-
ably referred to the Emperor Henry II., as
it is related by Cuspin in his life of that
good king. We will not enter into the
learned enquiry instituted by the Bollan-
dists. The incident, having the semblance '
of truth, reminds us forcibly of the power
of the martyrs in heaven, and that charity
obtained, in the end, the conversion of the
sinner, coverinor a multitude of sins.

VI.

The following extraordinary miracle, con-
nected with the origin of a Church of St.
Lawrence in Constantinople, is touchingly
beautiful :

" One of the emperors of this city lost
his sight. Knowing that St. Lawrence was
from of old the friend and patron of the
blind, he determined to make a pilgrim-
age to the shrine of this great martyr in

Lawrence.

Z^l

con-
st.

|ngly

lost

was

the

rrim-

r in

Rome. His spouse, an amiable and virtu-
ous woman, tried to dissuade him from
such a long and dangerous journey. He
insisted ; at length she seemed to consent,
but had prepared an ingenious stratagem
to retain him. She justly believed that St.
Lawrence was as powerful in Constantino-
ple as in Rome. She therefore determin-
ed to erect a church in his honor in vo-
tive offering to God for the favor of her
husband's sight. In the meantime she had
arranged with the captain of one of the
galleys to take the emperor every day to
sea, and make him fancy he was on his
way to Rome. Returning every afternoon
to the same port, they called it by the
name of the one they would have taken
were they really making such a journey.
This went on for several weeks ; in the
meantime the church was rising in splen-
dor and magnificence. At length, when
nearly completed, the sailors announced to
the emperor they were now near Naples
and Pozzuoli.* His devotion and anxiety to
kneel at the shrine of his beloved saint in-
creased as he thought he was nearer to it

* The modern name for the port of Baiae.

388 The Victims of the Mamertine,

" The morning of the consecration of the
beautiful church had arrived. The emperor
was landed by the way at Ostia, and was
driven into the country, so as to make a
tour of about fourteen miles, and then
dropped at the Church of St. Lawrence.
To make the deception more perfect, the
empress had arranged that none should
approach the emperor but those that
spoke Latin. The emperor knelt, and
with tears of devotion heard Mass and re-
ceived Holy Communion. He thought he
had a dream. He began to discern, as
yet indistinctly, the lights on the altar
and the golden vestments. Then the vi-
sion became clearer ; he was able to see
everything in detail. The church he had
never seen before, and he firmly believed
he was in the Basilica of St. Lawrence at
Rome. He started to see beside him his
wife and children. Believing he was giv-
en but a momentary vision of the joys
of sight, he prayed more fervently than
ever to St. . Lawrence. But it was no
vision ; he rubbed his eyes again and
again, and each object became more dis-
tinct. Mass was over; his spouse, who

Lawrence,

389

watched his trepidation, knew he had re-
ceived his sight, and in tears of joy em-
braced him. In a few words she told him
of her pious stratagem to keep him in
Constantinople, and in joy, wonder, and
gratitude she led him into his own city
again, where he was greeted by the wel-
come acclamations of his people." *

St. Lawrence is usually painted as dress-
ed in the dalmatic. This is intended to
signify his clerical dignity ; but up to the
time of Pope Stephen — that is, three or
four years before the martyrdom of St.
Lawrence — the deacons carried their dal-
matics about in public on almost every oc-
casion. It would be a novelty in our days
to see deacons going through the streets
with their robes ; however, net so in
ancient times. The dalmatic was a pa-
gan garment ; it was worn by the empe-
rors Commodus and Pertinax, and after-
wards generally by senators. It fell into
disuse, and was adopted by Pope Syl-
vester for the Church. He was so jealous

* This fact is related by St. Peter Damiun in his eighth
book and fifth epistle. <"

390 The Victims of the Mamertine,

of the honor of this vestment that no dea-
con outside of Rome was permitted to
wear it without special permission.* '**:

* See '* Emerologio di Piazza," vol.1.

dea-
sd to

JSjSVftrt/;

')f :>A^

sv/ ^)

%U^^^^W^

CHAPTER XI.

PALM ATI us.

(May lo, 336.)

I HERE are seventy churches in
Rome dedicated to the Blessed
Virgin. Pilgrims who puur in-
to the Eternal City from every
land under the sun recognize how the
Romans honor her whom all nations call
Blessed. When they see so many beauti-
ful edifices dedicated to God under her
invocation, so many paintings an.d statues,
enriched with jewels and pearls of value,
so many novenas and benedictions in her
honor, and, above all, the unbroken crowd
of suppliants that, from the break of dawn
until the last notes of the Ave Maria bells
have ushered in the night, kneel in silent
prayer around the altars of Mary, they
exclaim : "How these people love the Ma-
donna ! " For some 'tis a source of con-

392 The Victims of the Mamertine,

gratulation and joy ; others, who, alas ! are
buried in the darkness of the shadow of
fatal prejudice, make the theme of their
sarcasms what they inwardly admire.

Sixteen centuries a^o Mary had her
altars and churches and her clients in
Rome. That devotion, commenced and
practised by the Archangel Gabriel in
the little room at Nazareth, twined with
the development of Catholic faith, and
still blooms as the fairest flower around
the ,full-gro\vn tree. In the commence-
ment of the third century the holy Pope
CalHstus raised and consecrated to the
Blessed Virq^in the first public church
erected in Rome. It was built over the
site of an extraordinary fountain of oil
which sprang up here three years before
the birth of our Blessed Lord, in the dis-
trict of Trastevere. This church exists
still, and, as it was the scene of the con-
version of Palmatius in the third centurv,
a few historical facts will agreeably intro-
duce us to the Acts of our present sketch.

The history of this church brings us
back to the reign of Augustus. In the
commencement of his reign he erected

Palmatius,

393

in this spot an asylum for aged or in-
valided soldiers, somewhat like the H6tel
des Invalides of Napoleon at Paris. This
institution failed with the kind spirit that
gave it origin. In the tyranny and inhu-
manity that characterized the successors
of Augustus there was no place for sym-
pathy or gratitude for the poor soldier
who was disabled in the service of his
country. The splendid barracks erected
by Augustus became an eating-house, a
rendezvous for all kinds of vagrants, and
finally, in the reign of Alexander Severus,
was abandoned.

The Christians took possession of it.
Immediately the former owners, who had
no more right to the place than the Chris-
tians, tried to dislodge them. A dispute
followed, and the case was submitted to
Alexander for decision. Alexander gave it
in favor of the Christians, saying it was
better some God should be worshipped
there than hand it over to gluttons and
drunkards.

It was well known the Christians intend-
ed to convert it into a place of worship,
and thi-, may have been a stimulant to

394 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the pagans to keep them out of it. The
youthful Emperor Alexander not only gave
them the building, but full permission to
convert it into a church. This emperor
had a Christian mother, and showed such
partiality towards Christianity that he
would have embraced the faith were it not
for the impious advisers that surrounded
him and deterred him from the step he
premeditated. He never went further than
to place our Blessed Lord amongst the
Penates of his house. He was so taken
with that maxim of Christian charity, *^ Do
unto others as you would wish others to do
to you,'' he had it printed over the doors
of the palace and on some of the public
institutions of the city. Nevertheless, as
if in mockery of this golden proverb, the
spirits of evil procured, through the machi-
nations of the imperial favorites, that some
of the best blood of the Church should
flow in this reign. The Christians, how-
ever, took advantage of the clemency of
the emperor during the commencement of
his reign, rnd, under the guidance of the
holy Pope Callistus, built from the bar-
racks of Augustus the first public church

Palmatius.

395

ever raised in pagan Rome, and dedicated
it to the Blessed Virgin — the first in Rome
under her invocation. This was in the
year 224. *

' The Christians had long desired to have
possession of this place ; for, by a strange
event, it would seem destined by Provi-
dence for a place of worship. About the
time of the birth of our Blessed Lord in
Bethlehem a miraculous fountain of oil
sprang from the earth in this spot, and
was interpreted to be symbolic of the
great mystery of the Nativity. The oil
flowed for a whole day. The place is
shown even now before the high altar of
the church, and it is confidently asserted
that the clay around will even still give the
unction of oil on being pressed.* Some
verses that were written on the spot in one
of the early centuries are still preserved :

" Magna taberna fui tunc emeritoria dicta
Eineritis adscribens virtus, vitaque relicta
Hinc oleum fluxit, cum Christus Virgine luxit:

Hie et donatur venia quodcunque rogatur.

>«■

Baronius alludes to this extraordinary
fountain of oil. Treating of the origin of

f-;>

* Baronius, anno 224.

I I

396 TAe Victims of the Afamertine,

the Church and doings of Pope Callistus,
amongst others we find these records:
*' For in the book * De Romanis Pontifici-
bus/ known to all for its antiquity, we
have these words : ' He built the Church
of Holy Mary in Trastevere,' whence it
must necessarily be asserted that to no
other church is allusion made except this,
built in the time of Alexander, and in
the place given to the Christians for this
purpose ; there is even still extant a most
remarkable monument of venerable an-
tiquity of this noble and generous act, for
near the confessional of the church there
is preserved the opening from which oil
formerly issued. It is related also, by
those who found it by experience, that the
clay around is still soaked with oil, so
that if any one press it with his hand he
will find the impression."*

We will not pause to answer the many
questions that could be asked about this
strancre fountain of oil. We find a ereat
many writers mention the circumstance
with the greatest reverence, and then pass
on No- doubt it is a difficult question.

# u

Annal.," nnno 324.

Palmatius,

397

By a critical analysis of the dates we find
it took place tiiree years before the birth
of our Blessed Lord, and in the third of
Augustus. They were not simultaneous,
as the ancient verses quoted suppose. We
are not bound to treat it as a miracle, but
must throw it in amongst the many and
inexplicable works of God preserved in
the treasures of the Church under the
protection of pious tradition.*

In the erection of this church the holy
Pope placed an image of the Blessed Vir-
gin, which is still preserved, in the chapel
of the choir. Before this image St. Ce-
cilia often prayed, as her house was quite
near; here, too, innumerable saints, pontififs,
martyrs, and glorious confessors of the
Church have implored the intercession of
the Mother of God. This little picture, be-
fore which the faithful have knelt from
the commencement of the third century
(224), as well as the church raised over
it under the invocation of the Mother of

* The oil is not petroleum, nor yet olive. It sprang up
in several places in the neighborhood. It is alluded to by
St. Jerome in one of his epistles to Pammachius ; by blm
also, in the popular tr.idition of his time (fifth century). con>
sidered a sacred f^ign.

398 Tke Victims of the Mamertitie,

God, must confound the unblushing heretics
of modern days who assert that we knew
nothing of devotion to Mary until it crept
into our liturgies in the darkness of the
Middle Ages.

The present form of the Church dates
from the year 340, when under St. Julian
it was enlarged and embellished with
grander designs of architecture. It has
been an object of special devotion to near-
ly all the popes, and in almost every cen-
tury we find this church mentioned in con-
nection with the protection and generosity
of the Holy See. In the Middle Ages
cardinals and princes vied with each other
in enriching this venerable sanctuary, and
their united efforts have left it to the gene-
rations of our days what the generosity
and zeal of the first Christians made it
in theirs. Amongst the benefactors and
friends of this church the last, and by no
means the least, was our own immortal
Pius IX. ^

In latter centuries, when so many mag-
nificent temples have been erected on
every side to the glory of God ; when
new ideas and designs of architecture

Palmatius,

399

ag-
on

hen
lire

were more pleasing than the old, this
venerable sanctuary was almost forgotten.
Five years ago it showed five centuries of
ruin and wear; the walls discolored, the
Alexandrine pavement broken, and the
faded gilding of the artistic roof contrasted
in dull heaviness with the rich colors of
Domenichino's "Assumption." The gloom
of age and dust, which seemed accumulat-
ing for centuries, were to the inexperi-
enced stranger the strongest indications of
its venerable antiquity. In the days of
his liberty Pius IX. was wont to visit the
venerable sanctuaries of the city. One
evening he bent his way towards this an-
cient church of our Holy Mother. His
noble heart was moved on seeing the
havoc that time had made on the vene-
rable pile, and, notwithstanding his strait-
ened circumstances, with unbounded confi-
dence in God, he gave the order for its
complete renovation. Nearly two years
have passed since the work has been fin-
ished, and the aged Pope, who has been a
prisoner in the Vatican, has not been able
to see it. We hope the day is not far
off when this generous and persecuted

400 The Victims of the Mamertine*

pastor will kneel in triumph before the
hidden God of the Blessed Sacrament—
the beauty of whose temple he had loved
— and before the image of the Queen of
Heaven venerated by Callistus in the third
century, to pour forth the warm hymn of
gratitude for the protection of her who
is" more terrible than armies set in battle
array.

II.

The Acts of Palmatius, one of the most
remarkable of the Christians confined in
the Mamertine, bring us to an extraordi-
nary scene that passed at this venerable
sanctuary in the third century. The dread-
ful calamities that fell on the city, and were
indirectly the cause of the conversion of an
immense number of the citizens, are men-
tioned by pagan historians, and, amongst
the Christians, by Orosius, Sulpicius Seve-
rus, etc.

On the morning of the 5th of April, 226,
the Temple of Jupiter, on the Capitol, was
on fire. Gold flowed like a molten stream
of lead from the roof, and the costly mar-

Palmatius,

401

bles were splintered and calcined in the
raging conflagration. The lightning of
heaven had struck this proud monument
of paganism; the impieties of its sacrifices
seemed to rouse the anger of God, and
for three days fire, pestilence, and ruin
brooded over the mighty city. The people,
filled with consternation, rushed to their
temples and called in vain on their sense-
less idols. The hypocritical augurs, who
pretended to know the reasons of every
calamity, ordered the mantuaria, or expia-
tory holocausts, to be immolated on the
Capitol alongside of the burning temple ;
but, like remedies that hasten the evil they
are intended to prevent, the public sacrifice
called from the chastening hand of God
still greater calamities. During the sacri-
fice four of the priests were struck dead,
and the altar was reduced to ashes; the
sun became dim, and lurid flashes of light-
ning lit up the scene of terror with a
brighter light than the columns of fire
that mounted with hissing roar from the
blazing piles of buildings. In madness and
despair the terrified populace fled from the
city ; the dead were left unburied, and the

402 The Victims of the Mamertine.

most costly treasures abandoned; temples,
baths, and villas, for miles around the gates,
were filled with timid matrons and virgins,
who fled like doves to shelter from the
storm.

Amidst this universal terror there was
one scene of calm and quiet. Gathered in
the chapel of the venerable Pontiff Cal-
listus, a small but brave band of Christians
were chanting the Psalms of David. Like
the enchanting sounds of the -^olian harp,
he^rd loud and shrill above the storm and
the soughing of the forest-trees, the sacred
strains rolled in subdued echoes through
the abandoned streets, mingling in majestic
sweetness with the thunder that shook the
seven hills.

Through the Trastevere district there
came a chariot at full speed. It belonged
to Palniatius, the consul, who was flying
from the city. It approached the little
chapel of the Blessed Virgin. The consul
paused to hear the strange sounds — sur-
prise was stronger than fear — and mysteri-
ous words fell on his attentive ears:

•' Our God is our refuge and protector. He is our aid
in the tribulations that have come too heavily on us.

SSBI

Palmatius*

403

" Therefore we will not fear when the earth shall
be shaken and the mountains transferred to the
depths of the sea.

" Their waters roared and were troubled : the
mountains were troubled with his strength.

"The stream of the river maketh the city of God
joyful : the Most High had sanctified his own taber-
nacle. God is in the midst thereof, it shall not be
moved : God will help it in the morning early.

"Nations were'^trcubled, and kingdoms were bowed
down : he uttered his voice, the earth trembled.
The Lord of armies is with us: the God of Jacob is
our protector.

"Come and behold ye the works of the Lord:
what wonders he hath done upon the earth, making
wars to cease even to the end thereof.

" He shall destroy the bow and break the weapons:
and the shields he shall burn in the fire.

"Be still and see that I am God: I will be
exalted among the nations, and I will be exalted in
the earth.

"The Lord of armies is with us: the God of Jacob
is our protector." — 45/// Psalm,

Little did Palmatius dream, while listen-
ing to the strange, solemn chant of the
Christians, that he heard a prophecy, a
sublime anticipation of the triumph of grace
to commence in his own conversion, and
which, after centuries of persecution and
trial, would be realized in the triumph of
the Church against which he was at that
moment breathing death and destruction.

404 The Victims of the Mamertine,

He enquired who were those who had
courage to assemble and lift their voices
with cheerful sounds in the midst of the
public woe. He was informed they were
Christians. " Magicians," muttered the con-
sul, as he turned his horse's head and pro-
ceeded at full gallop to the emperor's pal-
ace. Filled with the popular prejudice, he
believed the Christians were a set of magi-
cians whose 'incantations were the cause of
the calamities that oppressed the people.
Hearing the mysterious verses of their
prayer, he at once concluded he had come
across the workshop of their impiety^ — the
darkened chamber whence, by magic arts,
they evoked from the regions of Pluto the
cloud of woe that brooded over the city.
He hastened to convey his important dis-
covery to the Prefect Ulpian. Bounding
through the marble portico and rushing
through the palace, he entered the cham-
ber where the impious Ulpian trembled as
each peal of the dreadful thunder shook
his coward heart. Almost breathless, Pal-
matius cried out : " Listen, I beseech vou,
to what I have found ! When sad and
frightened at these awful calamities, and

Palmatius,

405

flying- through Trastevere, I heard a mul-
titude of Christians uttering their magic
verses. What wonder these terrors have
come on us?"*

A guard of a hundred soldiers is giv-
en to the zealous consul, and full powers
to deal with the Christian magicians found
flagrante delicto — the crime of worshipping
the true God. Palmatius and his soldiers
are marching across the city. We will
go before them in the quicker transit of
thought, and glance at the scene so simply
described in the ancient Acts, so dear in
the memories of the martyrs of the early
Church, and so interesting in the reminis-
cences that hang around the venerable
Basilica of Sta. Maria in Trastevere.

Humble and unassuming must have
been the first church erected by the Chris-
tians in Rome. The toleration that al-
lowed them to creep from the Catacombs
did not declare them not to be molested;
they were still in the enemy's camp, and

*"Per claritatem vestram, ego audivi cum tristis et ter-
ritus essem propter signum quod factum est quomodo can-
ticis et incantationibus in quodam loco clamaret, in regione
Trans-Tibcrim, multitudo Christianoruni ; undo non niirum
si causK haec fecit hoc signum." — Acts BoUanJists.

W ""\ ^

406 T/ie Victims of the Mamertine,

the least manifestation of increasing strength
would fan the smouldering embers into
persecution. Yet the fact that in tlie
year 226, they had a church publicly in
Rome, that they assembled under the
noonday sun, and chanted and prayed
loud enough to be heard in the streets,
prove the comparatively free and prosper-
ous condition of Christianity at the time.
To Callistus, the venerable pontiff, who
wa^ the sixteenth after St. Peter, is due
the erection and consecration of this
church — one of the most remarkable events
in the history of those times. Tradition
attributes to St. Ignatius, martyred in the
Coliseum, the custom of chanting the
Psalms alternately in choir. In a vision
he saw the angels thus praising God, and
the Christians were wont to assemble at
this epoch to pray in this manner. Callis-
tus placed in his little chapel a small but
beautiful picture of the Madonna. . Around
this shrine of early piety they gathered to
recite their prayers, as we do now, like
them, and in union with them, before the
same Madonna and before the same altar,
after the lapse of sixteen centuries. There

Palmatius,

407

igth
into
the
\f in
the
ayed
eets,
sper-
time.
who
due
this
vents
iition
the
the
ision
and
le at
aUis-
but
ound
d to
like
the
akar,
here

was the proverbial and undying lamp that
burns even now before the Madoniia's
altar, expressing in its living flame the
burning charity of the clients of the im-
maculate Queen of Heaven ; flowers, fresh
and fragrant, culled from the soil that
covers the hallowed Catacombs in the villa
of some noble Roman matron ; vases still
bearing the costly , ornaments of pagan
art.

The little Christian band are kneeling
before the altar of Mary; the women
apart, and their heads covered with a neat
embroidered veil ; the men wrapped in the
manly toga. Their earnestness of look
and voice bespeak trepidation. The ele-
ments are in confusion around them ; thun-
der is pealing, the lightning has set fire
to the city and struck the people. The
Christians knew it was but the breath of
God, the sigh of divine indignation at the
impiety of man, sweeping, as the prophet
tells us, like a whirlwind of wrath over
a guilty world, spreading desolation and
woe, and visiting with condign retribution
the hapless children of sin. Yet, in those
mysterious visitations of Providence that

4o8 The Victims of the Mamertine.

afflict the innocent witli the guilty, the
Christians, in the natural impulse of ter-
rified humanity, rushed to the temple of
the true God, and sought by prayers to
appease his indignation.

Whilst the gentle murmur of their fer-
vent prayer rolls in subdued echoes to the
street, the tramp of soldiers approaches,
and Palmatius, with a. guard of one hun-
dred soldiers, surrounds the little church.

^mongst them, too, was the aged priest
Calepodius. Ten soldiers were ordered to
enter, but, having done so, they were im-
mediately struck blind. Calepodius said to
them: '* My children, what do you seek
here ? " But they replied, " Give us light ;
for this place is darkened to us." They
hastened down to their companions, . who
were all terrified, and none more than the
brave consul who sought to destroy those
Christians. Palmatius hurried back to UI-
pian, to whom he reported what had hap-
pened. Ulpian, not giving full credence to
the strange fact, had the soldiers brought
before him, and, seeing that they were real-
ly deprived of sight, in a blindness of heart
and intellect darker than the loss of sight

Palmatius.

409

the

ter-
e of
:s to

r fer-
o the
iches,
hun-
arch.
priest
red to
•e inl-
aid to
seek
Hght ;
They
, . who
tin the
those
o Ul-
hap-
ince to
-ought
real-
heart
sight

in those poor wretches, he cried out: "O
good citizens ! see the power of magic."

Pahiiatius, who was listening, and whose
confidence in paganism was shaken, said :
"If this be the power of magic, where is
the power of our gods ? You had better
influence them, or the whole state will
perish under such magic."

Then the wiseacres, who represented
the young emperor, ordered a grand sac-
rifice to be offered from the Capitol to the
god Mercury, and all the people were to
be present. Any one absent was to be
considered a Christian and put to death.
A crier was sent through the streets to
announce the great sacrifice and the pen-
alties to be inflicted on any one absent.
In pandering to the popular prejudice,
and calling the people of the city to-
gether, they were but obeying the in-
scrutable counsels of God, who thus wish-
ed to draw some noble souls from the
pollution and degradation of idolatry.
On the morning appointed the Capitol
and Forum were crowded by the Romans,
who were more influenced by fear of the
edicts than religion towards their gods.

4.IO The Victims of the Mainertine,

The more wealthy and sincere, like Pal-
matius, brought their own animals to be
slaughtered in the great appeasing sacri-
fice.

The blood of the animals held scarcely
commenced to flow around the idol when
one of the virgins of the temple, named
Juliana, was seized by the devil, and cried
out : " The God of Callistus is the only
true and living God ; he is enraged with
the pollutions of the state, and will ruin
your perishable kingdom, because you do
not adore the truth."

Almighty God would crumble a whole
city into a wreck of ruin for the salvation
of one soul. He blasted the sacrifices of
the Capitol, he allowed the demon to take
possession of his creatures, and dispersed
the people in terror, that Palmatius might
recognize him to be the true God. It was
iso. The noble consul ran alone towards
the Church of the Holy Virgin in Tras-
tevere, and, casting himself at the feet of
Callistus, prayed for baptism. He de-
clared his renunciation of the demons and
idolatry in a loud voice before the multi-
tude of Christians.

Palmaiius,

411

Pal-
D be
lacri-

rcely

when

amed

cried
only
with

I ruin

>u do

whole
vation
:es of
) take
ersed
might
t was
wards
Tras-
et of
e de-
s and
multi-

Palmatius received baptism with great
fervor; he wept with joy, and our Blessed
Lord imparted to him a vision, by which
he understood the invisible descent of the
Holy Spirit into the soul at the moment
expressed by the external contact of the
water of the sacrament. His wife and
children and whole household, numbering
forty-two persons, were baptized on the
same day ; and so perfect was the conver-
sion of this noble consul that, before the sun
set on him as a Christian, he had gathered
immense wealth in heaven by distributing
his goods to the poor. With incredible
zeal he sought out the Christians, in the
prisons, in the Catacombs, or poorer
streets of the city, and gave to each one
food, clothing, and money, as they de-
clared their wants. For thirty-two days
he went among the poor, spreading bless-
ings and happiness, and thus spent the
novitiate which was to prepare him for
the public profession of Christianity.

Amongst the innumerable miracles and
wonders recorded in every page of the Acts
of the martyrs, there is none, perhaps, so
striking as the sudden change that passed

412 The Victims of the Mamertine,

over the proud soul of the pagan/ iinplant-
ing- in the heart a love for poverty and the
poor where the infatuation of riches and
pleasures had blasted every feeling of sym-
pathy. Divine was the faith that made
consuls and senators and brave generals
of the army despise their wealth and their
honors, and seek the contempt of poverty.
No wonder the Romans marvelled when
they saw proud and beautiful matrons cast-
ing their garments of purple and gold, and
jewels of priceless value, to the poor they
met in the streets. They were true Chris-
tians, and they knew how pleasing to God
was this virtue of charity ; they considered
it infinitely more valuable than the perish-
able goods they cast from them. Their
holy compassion made no distinction of
persons. Their alms descended as a gentle
shower on the Jew and pagan, as well as
on their own indigent brethren ; and the
idolaters were struck with these new vir-
tues, which their unbelieving society,
withered by absorbing selfishness, did not
understand.

Lucian, who, amongst the degenerate
Greeks, professed a double atheism — for

Palmatius,

413

>lant-

1 the
and

sym-

made

lerals
their

verty.

when
cast-

d, and

r they

Chris-

) God

idered
rish-
Their

t)n of
yen tie
ell as
d the
.V vir-
)ciety,
d not

berate
I— for

he did not believe either in Providence or
virtue — recounts with sarcastic wonder that
the legislator of the Christians had per-
suaded them they were all brothers ; and
he records the prodigies of their gene-
rosity, their distant travels,- their immense
sacrifices, whenever there was question of
relieving any of the unfortunate.

When the Christian soldiers who were
made prisoners on the field of battle were
led captive to the dark forests of Germany,
a deacon followed them with their ransom,
to make up which the sacred vessels of the
yet poor Church had been sold. When
the imperial legions traversed a district
where every family offered them the best
grapes of the vineyard, the whitest bread,
the purest wine, and freshest water, it was
known by this generosity, to be inhabited
by Christians.* Who raised from the
marble steps of the Temple of Jupiter or
Mars the dying slave whom his master's sor-
did avarice had abandoned to starvation?
The Christian who, perhaps, the evening
before had escaped the toils and tortures

/<»;

♦ " Life of St. Pachomius.'

414 ^^^ Victims of the Mamertine.

of paganism. And who picked up the
new-born infant which a Roman mother
had thrown at night to the dogs on the
banks of the Tiber? A servant of Jesus
Christ. The charity of the early Chris-
tians acted on tlie pagan world as warm
waves on the ice of a long winter. It bore
a secret influence equal to the conviction
of miracles ; it anticipated the triumph of
faith in the hardest hearts by winning
tjiem first to humanity before they be-
came converts to religion.

A rich man named Serapion was walk-
ing one day alone in the country and
reading one of the sacred books, when he
was met by a poor, half-naked creature, to
whom he gave his cloak. Soon after he
met another still more miserable in ap-
pearance. Serapion gave him his tunic,
and now was himself more unprovided
with clothes than those whom he had re-
lieved. He sat down on a broken column
and continued to read, without reflecting
on /the strange situation to which his cha-
rity had reduced him. '* Brother," said
a passer-by compassionately, " who has
stripped you of your garments ? " " The

Palmatius,

415

Gospel that I am reading," replied Sera-
pion.*

The time appointed by God has come.
He will allow the powers of darkness to
vent their rage on the soul he has elect-
ed and prove it to be true. Palmatius
is seized -and cast into the prison of the
Mamertine. Three days are spent in this
gloomy and horrible dungeon. He who
a few days before commanded thousands
of slaves, and had a palace for his home,
and endless wealth to gratify every wish,
is now poor and despised in the cell of a
criminal, and the cold, hard rock of the
Mamertine is the pillow of his bed. "We
thought their lives a folly," is the sigh of
the hundreds who have passed the bar-
riers of the tomb. Happy those who, like
Palmatius, have learned the secret of true
wisdom in time, that they may not sigh
over its loss in the endless ages of eternity.
' On the third day he was brought in
chains before Alexander. The interview is
given in the Acts. It is brief but interest-
ing. Seeing him chained, Alexander order-
ed the chains to be taken off, and said:

* «• Fleurs de Ciel," Orsini.

4i6 The Victims of the Mamertine,

"Thus you have become mad, Palma-
tius, to abandon the gods and worship a
Man that is dead." Palmatius was silent.
Then Alexander again said, " Speak con-
fidently, and do not be afraid."

Palmatius replied, "If you give permis-
sion I will speak the truth."

" But say nothing against our gods,"
interposed Alexander.

"If you take notice, good prince," said
Palmatius, " they are not gods, but the
ijvorks of mortal men ; what they are you
judge for yourself. I pray you, miser-
able as I am, you will make your gods
speak and answer a question I will ask ;
if you do this, I will not abandon them."

"But how? you have ado.uJ them from
your cradle, and now you abandon theni, "
said Alexander.*

Palmatius replied, " I have acted so, un-
fortunately; but now that I know what is
true, I pray my Lord Jesus Christ to for-
give me, for I sinned in error." '^

* An observant reader will remark in this question how
humanity in its weakness will repeat itself, as well as his-
tory in its follies. The most popular, and for thousands
the only, defence for Protestantism is in the expression,
"Oh! it is the religion in which I was brought up."

Palmatius,

417

*,'

Uma-
iiip a
lilent."
con-

irmis-

^ods"

said
t the
e you
miser-
gods
ask ;
nem.
from

»»

hem,

un-
lat is
o for-

ion how
as his-

ousands
ression,

But see, Alexander smiles ! No execu-
tioners are called; no racks, or pans of
burning oil, or iron hooks to tear the
martyrs sides! It pleased God to spare
Palmatius a while longer for the conver-
sion of others, and to try him by a spe-
cies of trial more powerful than racks or
scourges. Near Alexander stood the no-
ble senator Simplicius, a friend and admir-
er of the brave consul in his trouble; turn-
ing towards him, Alexander said to him :
*' Simplicius, take this man to your house,
and by every kindness in your power en-
deavor to induce him to submit to the
gods; the empire has need of such men
as Palmatius."

As salvation entered widi our Blessed
Lord into the home of Zachary, so the
light of faith entered widi Palmatiup the
home of the senator. The good Simplicius
left nothing undone to 'make his guest
happy. He tore off the prison -dress, and
clothed him with rich purple and gold; he
ordered his wife and children and servants
to obey the consul in everything. We
doubt not but the house of Simplicius be-
came the scene of great rejoicing ; for the

4 1 8 The Victims of the Mamertine,

family of the consul gathered around their
liberated father; the Christians, who had
loved him as their benefactor, and were
proud of him as their champion, gathered
around to greet him with tears and bless-
ings; the aged successor of St. Peter and
the venerable priest Calepodius came from
their sanctuary in Trastevere to console and
encourage for greater trials the courageous
neophyte whom they knew to be destined
for a glorious martyrdom. But Palmatius
"^as already skilled in the science that
makes saints. He knew a calm in the
midst of such storms was too treacherous
to last; that a truce with the demons was
but a stratagem in their warfare, to come
down with greater fury when he might be
less prepared. Therefore he gave himself
to fasting and prayer; he found that inef-
fable sweetness that falls like dew on the
soul that seeks God in prayer and solitude,
and which is never found in the noisy
assemblies of men.

The conversion of the good senator and
his household comes next in the order of
events. It happened thus: There was a
friend and familiar of the household of

le.

Palmatius,

419

nd their
A\o had
id were
rathered
id bless-
iter and
nie from
sole and
irageous
destined
almatius
ice that

in the
acherous
ions was
to come
light be

himself
lat inef-
' on the
solitude,
e noisy

ator and
order of
t was a
hold of

SimpHcius, named Felix. His wife was
four years bedridden with a palsy. Felix
had seen and heard all that passed within
the last few days, and, urged by the invisi-
ble impulses of grace, he sought an inter-
view with Palmatius, to whom he told his
deep affliction. Not only had he the sor-
row of his spouse Blanda, crippled and in .
pain, but his means were all spent, and, in
the ^ jld blast of misfortune that swept
over his house, he had nothing before him
but the bleak prospect of poverty and ruin.
His tale moved the pity of the noble heart
of Palmatius, who, without further enquiry,
mingled his tears with those of Felix,
whom he embraced with all the tender-
ness of Christian sympathy, bidding him
kneel and raise his heart to the true God.
And regardless of the presence of the wife
of SimpHcius and others, who were pre-
sent during the interview, he prayed thus
to God : " O Lord God ! who hast enlight-
ened thy servant, give still the eternal light
of Jesus Christ ; raise thy servant Blanda
from the bed of sorrow, that all may know
thou art our Creator and the Author of
all things."

420 The Victims of the Mamertine,

Palmatius had scarcely ceased his pray-
er when a bustle is heard outside, and
several voices repeat, "Blanda! Blanda!"
And, true enough, there was Blanda her-
self, running to cast herself before Palma-
tius and ask for baptism. Almighty God,
who knew his servant Palmatius would
ask the favor, anticipated his prayer, and,
raising the afflicted Blanda, who had not
moved a 'limb for four years, sent her run-
ning to the house of Simplicius, that she
might arrive just as Palmatius was finish-
ing his prayer. The scene that followed
was cheering beyond measure. In the
midst of tears, and embracings, and ex-
clamations of joy the whole house of
Simplicius declared their wish to become
Christians. Callistus and Calepodius were
sent for to complete by their spiritual min-
istrations the work commenced in heaven.
The holy Pope poured the regenerating
waters of baptism on sixty-eight persons,
and, with a holy joy and thanksgiving to
God, repeated the words oi the Psalmist:
"Congreget Dominus triticum in horreum
suum,"

Brief but thrilling the few words of

Palmatius,

421

the Acts that follow. In five lines they
declare what might fill pages of horror to
describe. Whilst yet in tiie flush of their
spiritual joy an army of soldiers are sur-
rounding the house of Simplicius.

The order is given, and the halls of
the senator flow with the blood of the
Christians. Aged domestics who had
served two generations of the family ; ten-
der females who were maids of honor,
in bloom of youth and beauty ; the chil
dren of Simplicius, whose wealth and am •
bition were laid as the richest offerings
on the Christian altar ; the venerable
Simplicius and his faithful spouse, willing-
ly bending their necks to the swords that
were already stained with the blood of
their children, changing their earthly pal-
ace for an everlasting one beyond the
skies; and the glorious Palmatius, like a
brave general on a bloody field of battle,
standing undaunted amidst the carnage,
and waving the standard of the cross, de-
claring to the dying the victory they have
Avon — all were swept away in the space
of a few hours, and the only record left us
of this awful carnaofe is that the heads

422 The Victims of the Mamertine,

of those victims were suspended at the
gates of the city, "ad exemplum Chris-
tianorum."

"T'.A.

* I

' CHAPTER XII.

NEMESIUS.

(October 31, 256.)

"Sweet childhood, shadow of celestial love.
Trained to look up and hold a parent's hand,
And ever lift the eyes to One above,
Which knows not yet while it obeys command —
Hopes all, and all believes."

lERHAPS one of the most in-
teresting of the sketches of
the martyrs connected with the
Mamertine and the '' Domine, quo va-
dis?" is that of Nemesius.

He was a colonel in the army. His
wife died and left him an only child, a
litde girl, who after her baptism was call-
ed Lucilla ; her pagan name we do not
know. This child was born blind. Her
father loved her still more on account of
her affliction. He lavished all the affec-

424 The Victims of the Afamertine.

tions of his noble heart on the poor child.
He attended to all her little wants, and
led her about himself. God, in his merci-
ful providence, took pity on this afflicted
father and his innocent child, and, giving
corporal sight to the latter, cast the light
of heaven on the spiritual blindness of
both. The virtues of Pope Stephen, and
the miracles he performed in the secluded
grottos on the Appian Way, floated like
fragrant odors on the wings of fame.
FHend told them to friend in the Forum
and at the baths; they found their way
into the Pretorian camp. Nemesius heard
a veteran soldier tell another how he had
seen a person miraculously cured. He
thought of his own poor, sightless child,
and a joyful hope he had never felt before
stirred his heart* By means of some Ca-
tholic soldiers he made his way to the

•

Catacombs where St. Stephen resided. It
would be easy to imagine his impressions
as he passed along those dark, gloomy
passages. The strange images on the
walls; the little chapels lit up for the
singing of the divine praises or the cele-
brat'on of the Holy Mysteries ; and the

Nemesius,

425

tombs of the dead, whose rudely- sculptur-
ed slabs told the sleep of peace :

" That e'en these bones from insult should protect
Some frail memorial is erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture
decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh " —

all inspired a feeling of awe. Death in
the onslaught of the battle has no terrors
for the brave; but when viewed in its se-
pulchre, it has a thrill for the stoutest
heart. Nemesius, who instinctively held
one hand on his sword and in the other
his helmet with nodding plumes, may have
thought he was descending, like yEneas, to
the Avernus of Pluto, or about to be ini-
tiated into the terrors of the mysteries of
Greece. * ' '

Whilst wrapt in thought, following his
guide, and wondering how this strange
adventure would end, he suddenly en-
ters into the presence of Stephen. In
those days of triumph for the Church
the very appearance of the Christian
saints converted the pagan heart. God
gave them a halo of sanctitr, an au-
reola of virtue, that no brush could paint,

426 The Victims of the Mamertine,

no pen could describe. The haughty
colonel, who never before respected a
fellow-creature, found himself on his
knees before the venerable king of the
Catacombs, vv'^hen the soft and amiable
voice of the pastor bade him rise and
gave him courage, he pleaded with elo-
quence and tears that a participation of
the blessings scattered on the suffering
poor might be even purchased for his
sightless child. The miracle is registered
in heaven, and the holy Pope knows it.
He bade the colonel bring the child next
day, and she should be cured.

Never did parent hurry home with some
welcome present for a darling child more
self-satisfied than the brave Nemesius.
The moment he entered his house he em-
braced his Lucilla — a little girl of ten
years of age — with tears and kisses, and
with prophetic joy announced to her on
the morrow she would see the sun. He
made a vow in his heart — it passed from
his lips, and from his lips to heaven,
where it was accepted — that if Lucilla got
her sight, he would worship only the God
who granted the favor.

Nemesius,

427

The next morning the " little spark," as
her name expresses, was baptized by the
aged Pontiff. During the ceremony she
saw a beautiful boy, shining in light, come
towards her and touch her eyes, expiess-
ing how the mystery of baptism brought
first the light of faith into her soul, then
the light of the world on her eyes. She
stood in amazement, and for a few mo-
ments could not repress her exclamations of
joy and surprise. What must be the first
look on the world for those born blind !
We cease to appreciate what we see often ;
but here all the impressions that have
been gathering on us from childhood, all
that is bright and beautiful in the world
around us, pour into the startled soul like
the sudden burst of the sunlight on the
darkened eye.

Nemesius, the father, is baptized a few
days after. With all the bravery of his
profession he girds on his spiritual armor,
and rushes into the midst of the battle
against the powers of hell. So great is
his fervor and bravery that he was pro-
moted at once to a higher position in the

428 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

little camp of the Church ; for Pope Ste-
phen ordained him a deacon.

Hew different the warfare ! From the
pride of military pomp, the high-sound-
ing titles, the obsequious legions in plated
armor, the neighing war-steed tearing the
earth with impatience — all changed in a
few hours to the holy mysteries in the
Catacombs, the instruction of neophytes,
and bending with consolation over the
bedside of the dying. The change that
passed over the destinies of Nemesius was
was like that of Paul on the road to Da-
mascus. It was the miracle of grace that
nerved his heart to say : ;

" Farewell to the plumed troop and the big wars
That make ambition virtue ;
Farewell the neighing steed and shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife,
The ro)Ml banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! "
• - - - -t^,- ■

The conversion ot this great man soon
reached the ears of the persecutors of the
Church. The consuls Maximus and G?.le-
rius were to find him, and to put him to
death at the moment and place discov-

Nemesius,

429

Ste-

lis

ir!"

ered. One evening Nemesius was re-
turning to the Catacombs. He had been
the messenger of consolation to some in-
vaHd in the city. On reaching the Tem-
ple of Mars he found Galerius, Maximus,
and others were engaged in offering their
impure rites to the marble statue of the
god. He could not bear the imposture,
and he knelt on the road outside the
temple and prayed God would let them
know that they were worshipping devils.
Immediately Maximus, an unfeeling and
hardened persecutor of the Christians, was
possessed by the evil spirit, and he cried
out in a loud voice : " The prayers of
Nemesius are burning me."

Having been informed that Nemesius
was outside the temple, they rushed out
to seize him ; but they had scarcely laid
hands on him when from Maximus there
came a scream such as is only heard in the
dungeons of hell, lie was lifted several
feet in the air, and then hurled to the
ground ; his corpse fell on the marble
pavement.

Nemesius was cast into the Mamertine,
and his little girl was handed over to an

430 The Victims of the Mamertine,

impious, immoral woman named Maxima,
who was to use every means in her power
to corrupt the child's mind and force her
to sacrifice to the senseless idols. Deep
down in his gloomy and horrible prison
Nemesius thought more of his little trea-
sure than his own privations. Anxious
fancy suggested all kinds of afflicting
thoughts — the ill-treatment they would give
the child; the horrible suggestions they
would make to her; and, O crushing
thought ! they may succeed in ruining the
innocence of the little angel given to him
by God. Never did more fervent prayer
pass through the rocks of the Mamertine,
or fly with more intensity to the throne of
God. Never did prayer receive a more
perfect answer. Nemesius wept in his re-
signation to the will of God, and Lucilla
was saved — the angels were preparing the
double crown of virginity and martyrdom
for the favorite child.

Yet the sad fears of Nemesius were not
without foundation. Lucilla suffered much
in the hands of the cruel and depraved
wretch that had undertaken to destroy
her. The tears and touching entreaties of

Nemesius*

431

not
luch
Lved
|troy
of

the child were unheeded ; at one time shut
up in a dark room and left without food,
at another stript of her beautiful dress and
covered with a piece of sackcloth, and made
to work with the slaves ; and everything
that could wound or horrify the sensitive
heart of childhood was tried in vain on
the brave little Christian. Her persecutors
saw something so heavenly and so amiable
in Lucilla that they began to feel ashamed
of their cruelty and depravity. When
called to meet her father, she had insen-
sibly spread the influence of Christianity,
like *.e odor of a beautiful flower, that
gives fragrance to every breeze that
passes. It is example, even in a child,
not deep theological discourses, that pro-
duces the greatest fruit.

Lucilla is once more in the arms of her
father. She is brought to meet him when
on the way to the tribunal of the pagan
judge. Their greeting was long and affec-
tionate ; the father, who knew what was
coming, could not speak for his tears —
the natural outburst of paternal affection,
which can exist with the detachment of
martyrdom; whilst Lucilla, hanging from

lit I

432 . The Victims of the Mamertine.

his necU, begged and prayed he would
save her from that wicked woman. Few
the words that passed between them ; they
tore the heart of the noble father, who felt
a greater sacrifice in offering to God the
rising impulses of revenge than the shed-
dinof of his own and his dausfhter's blood.
Delighted with the constancy of his child,
and filled with the blissful anticipationr of
eternal union which martyrdom would
brinij him — union with God in his happy
kingdom, and union with the object of his
earthly affections ; for those that truly love
know the joy that lives in this hope — he
appeared undaunted before the tribunal of
Valerian, leading by the hand the charm-
ing little Lucilla, who had now dried her
tears, and showed her father she was not
afraid.

Valerian was seated on a throne in the
Temple of the Earth, surrounded with sol-
diers, lictors, and the priests of the idol. A
gloomy silence reigned around. Nemesius
was led in. He was dressed in the mili-
tary peace toga, and had abandoned the
emblems of his earthly warfare for the
graver habiliments of his Christian pro-

Nemesitis.

w
433

kvould
Few
they
.0 felt
d the
shed-
blood,
child,
nr of
would
happy
of his
y love
^e — he
lal of
larm-
her
as not

n the
1 sol-
ol. A
■nesius
niili-
the
the
pro-

fession. He was in the bloom of his man-
hood, handsome and brave, and much
loved by his companions in arms, many of
whom had come from the camp to be
present at liis trial, and evinced the
deepest sympathy for their brave colonel
and his lovely child. Silence was com-
manded, and all eyes were turned towards
the Christians.

•Nernesius, where is that prudence we
have heretofore found in you, always so
illustrious in word and deed? Do you not
think but we know what is good for yoU;
and will recommend it to you ? We advise
you not to abandon the worship of the
gods you have followed from your child-
hood."

Thus spoke the judge with all the so-
lemnity he could command. It is a
strange fact that even pagans, far away in
the second and third centuries, claimed for
the worship of idols of wood and stone
the senseless argument of the propriety or
necessity of remaining in the religion you
were brought up in.

Nemesius scarcely heeded the silly
judge; his thoughts were fixed on the is-

434 ^'^^ Victims of the Mamertine,

sues of his .efusal to sacrifice. The fervor
of his spirit effervesced ; nature assumed
her reign over his feelings. Tears invol-
untarily starting to his eyes, he majesti-
cally replied: *

" Unhappy, sinful man I have been ! I
have rejected truth ; I have shed innocent
blood ; burdened and crushed with guilt, I
have found the mercy of the great and
only ruler, Jesus Christ, the Son of God.
Although late in the evening of life, I
khow Him now who redeemed me with his
blood ; who gave sight to my girl, whose
cure baffled all the skill of doctors ; who
illumined, too, the eyes of our hearts, that,
despising the blindness of idolatrous super-
stition, we might be converted to the light
of Christianity. Him I fear, and him only
will I adore ; to him I offer the poor ser-
vice of my worship. I reject idols of
stone and bronze, which I know to be
devils that seek our ruin, and wish to drag
us Avith them to the woes of eternal
death."

Valerian said : "I know the charm of

' * "Et respondit cum lacrimis."— i<f/j.

Nemesius,

435

your magic verses, by which you even
effect homicide ; for it was thus you killecj
Maximus, that you might escape yourselves.
Moreover, you wish to try your dark arts
against ourselves and the safety of the
state."

He then asked once more would they
sacrifice; but receiving again the stern re-
fusal of the brave Nemesius, after a mo-
ments pause, in the midst of a death-like
stillness, he pronounced sentence. They
should be brought to the Temple of Mars,
on the Appian Way ; there the little virgin
Lucilla should be put to death before her
father's eyes, that, perhaps, seeing his child
about to be executed, he may consent to
sacrifice.

The scene at the Temple of Mars was
one not easily forgotten ; terrible to the
spectators who viewed it, and thrilling to
us who read of it seventeen centuries
afterwards. The atrium of the temple
was crowded. Many of the people were
in tears when they saw them making pre-
parations to execute the sweei little child.
She looked so beautiful ; the charm of
childish innocence cast a halo of angelic

43^5 The Victims of the Mamertine,

sweetness around her. We fancy we see
,^he dear child shudder and draw nearer
to her father, as she looks on the coarse,
rough soldiers with the axe that was to
cut off her head. How tell of the last
embrace and the encouraging words of the
broken-hearted father?

" His face still combating with tears and smiles,
The badges of his grief and patience,
That, had not God for some strong purpose steeled
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted,
And barbarism itself have pitied him."

Here he proved himself braver than in
the terrors of battle. He cut with his
own hand the golden ringlets that fell on
the snowy neck of Lucilla, that the axe
might have full play. He bound her eyes
with a handkerchief, and, holding her soft
little hand m his, -he bade her repeat the
holy name of Jesus. The executioner, who
was unnerved for a moment, drew back,
and refused to strike the tender flower ;
but terrified by the rough command of the
captain, he advanced, the burnished steel
flashed above the child's head, and another
moment was crimson with the pure, ruddy
stream of innocent blood. O consolation

Nemesius,

437

i see
earer
:)arse,
as to
; last
Df the

steeled
melted,

of faith ! Lucilla was that moment with
the angels, bright and beautiful, singing
the praises of God.*

Nemesius soon followed. The sapling
was cut down ; the oak was now to be
felled. He bent his neck to the axe, that
was still reeking with the life-stream of
his innocent child, and, repeating the sweet
name that gave strength to Lucilla, he
passed away from the sorrows of life to
the sunshine of a blissful eternity

lan m
th his
fell on
e axe
r eyes
ler soft
at the
r, who
back,
ower ;
of the
steel
nother
ruddy
ilation

* " Lucillam filiam ante patris decoUatam fecit gladio ju-
gular! in via Appia ante Tepplum Martis," — Acts Sti, Ste-
phanif Bollattdists, Aug. 2.

CHAPTER XIII.

TERTULLIANUS.

(August 4, 256,)

IF the veneration that Catholics
have for the relics of the saint-
ed dead were not prescribed in
the teaching of the Church, the doc-
trine would be forced on us by the ex-
traordinary miracles and graces conferred
through these relics. The brute creation
and the elements have been forced to re-
spect them. What martyr's body that
was exposed on open plains to be de-
voured by birds, or on the roadsides to
be the food of dogs, was ever touched ?
They floated in luminous clouds on the
rivers, like the body of St. John Nepo-
mucene, or were discovered by visions, like
the bodies of Sebastian, Cecilia, Zoa, and
an innumerable number of others, now

honorably placed under the altars of our

433

Tertullianus.

439

.tholics
saint-
bed in
doc-
le ex-
ferred
reation
to re-
that
36 de-
des to
died ?
Dn the
Nepo-
is, like
•a, and
now
Df our

churches. The lightning of heaven fell
on those who ill-treated the bodies of the
saints, and often the great gifts of faith,
of repentance, even martyrdcm itself, was
the reward from God to souls buried in
the darkness of paganism for their respect
shown to the relics of his servants. " Go,"
said a wealthy Roman lady to a youthful
knight, to whom she bore a too human
love — "go, seek for the bodies of the holy
martyrs of our faith, that, while we honor
their remains, they may intercede with God
for us, who are such great sinners. I have
been told that in Cilicia there is a presi-
dent no less avaricious than cruel, who
makes a horrible butchery of the martyrs,
then sells their bodies at a high price to
the Christians. Take with you money to
purchase from Simplician those glorious
remains, as also sufficient to enable you
to perform good works on the way. Here
are shrouds of the fine linen of Egypt, as
also balm, myrrh, nard, and other per-
fumes to embalm these sacred relics. A
suitable number of domestics and horses
shall accompany you."

The young and handsome Roman

440 The Victims of the Mamertine,

citizen, cradled in the delights of patri-
cian luxury, laid aside his crown ot myr-
tle and roses, remembered not the joys
of banquets, but sought in tears and re-
peiltance to make himself worthy of the
noble commission entrusted to him. Won-
<r!ering how one so sinTul could be in-
trusted with a commission so holy, he ar-
rived at Farsis as the impious judge was
torturing twenty-one Christians. Sending
his servanti:-, wilh horses and equipage, to-
the inn, he hastened to the scene of
bloodshed. In travelling costume, in rid-
ing-boots, and whip in hand, he passed
through the crowd, embraced the martyrs,
kissed their wounds, and encouraged
them to persevere. The noble knight was
the first of the number to pass to the
imperishable crown of glory. His ser-
vants purchased the remains the next day
for five hundred crowns of gold. The
penitent Aglae, informed by an angel, met
his precious relics on the Appian Way,
and placed them in the church she built
on the Avcntine, v/hich still bears the
name of Boniface.-'*

* This church is belter known .is St. Alexis.

\e.

Tertullianus,

441

)f patri-
ot myr-
:he joys
and re-
of the
I. Won-
l be in-
,', he ar-
id ge was
Sending
ipage. to-
cene of
, in rid-
ci passed
martyrs,
coil raged
light was
> to the
His ser-
next day
d. The
1, met
Hn Way,
he built
sars the

L>xis.

'g'

Thus God rewards the least act of favor
conferred on those he loves ; and sin^Mar
was the blessing given to Tertullianus, a
pagan who, as we read in the Acts of
Pope Stephen, buried, through sympathy,
the bodies of the martyrs. But we must
briefly recall one or two events from the
Acts, so as to understand more clearly
the interesting facts we have to record
connected with the Mamertine.

After the death of Nemesius and his
lovely child hi? steward, named Symphro-
nius, was brought before Olympius, a tri-
bune deputed by Valerian to torture him
and obtain from him, if possible, the trea-
sures of Nemesius. "If you seek from
me," bravely replied Symphronius to the
avaricious demands of the tribune, *' the
riches of my master Nemesi'-s, you will
not 'get them ; for they are already dis-
tributed amongst the poor. If you wish
me to sacrifice, I will sacrifice, but to our
Lord Jesus Christ." He was stretched on
the rack and beaten. Olympius had a
golden statue of Mars brought before him,
in the hope that in the agony of pain he
would consent to sacrifice ; but the martyr,

442 The Viciint:. ^/ the Mamcrtine,

beholding it, said : " May Jesus, the Son
of the living God, destroy thee ! " The
golden idol melted. The tribune, struck
with wonder, ordered the lictors to cease
torturing him a.id bring him to his own
house, saying, " I wili try every species of
torture on you to-night." The fact was, he
was terrified. The power that melted the
golden statue could equally cast the fraU
frame of man to the earth, and cause it to
perish. He handed Symphronius to Tertul-
llanus, his major-domo, with the injunction
to treat him kindly. In the meantime
he hastened to his wife to tell her what
had happened and his own fears. Exu-
peria was not blinded by the awful cloud
that hung over his pagan heart, and, moved
by the holy promptings of divine grace,
said to her husband : "If such be the
power of Christ, why do we not abandon
those false gods that cannot help us or
themselves? Let us go to that holy man
who gave sight to the little daughter of
Nemesius." The tribune, who had known
Nemesius and sighed over the untimely
end of that brave soldier, had already re-
solved in his heart to become Christian.

Tertulliantis,

443

That night the household gods, sacred
to the memories of every pagan hearth,
were smashed to pieces in the palatial
residence of Olympius. His wife and son
were baptized with him ; and the holy
Pope Stephen instructed them and gave
them Holy Communion.

These extraordinary conversions came to
the ear of Valerian, and, in his wrath,
fanned again the fire of persecution and
made it blaze with fresh fury. Olympius
and family and Symphronius were brought
in ropes and chains to the Temple of the
Earth, where Valerian wished tc vent his
impotent rage on the martyrs before he
would give them their crown. They were
burned at the statue of the sun alongside
the Coliseum. Their bodies were taken
away privately at night by Pope Stephen
and his deacons, and buried on the Latin
Way.

Fresh edicts were placed in all the pub-
lic parts of the city, and a reward offered
to any one who would bring the Chris-
tians to trial. In the search for Pope Ste-
phen twelve priests were seized and put
to death near the aqueduct on the Latin

444 ^/^^ Viclims of the Mamertine,

Way. It is in the midst of these scenes
we find Tertullianus appearing, like another
Tobias, to inter the bodies of the martyrs.
•Although he was aware of the conversion
and deatii of his master Olympius, he was
not yet baptized. Still a pagan, his heart
was shocked with the cruelties' of the per-
secutors ; and in deep sympathy he fol-
lowed the heroes of the cross, saw their
execution, and at night brought them with
his own hands to the entrance of the Cata-
ctombs, and there waited till some Chris-
tians came who would receive and place
them in their honorable sepulchres.

The noble conduct of Tertullianus was
reported to Pope Stephen. He sent for the
young man, and in a few days ordained
him a priest, giving him a special injunc-
tion to persevere in the holy work of
burying the bodies of the martyrs. Whilst
fearlessly discharging - the duties imposed
on him he was seized and brought before
a prefect named Mark, and by him to
Valerian. The usual foolish questions and
fearless answers were passe*d, and the usual
thrilling scene of torture which constituted
the vicril of, martvrdom. Valerian findinfj

Tertullianus,

445

his efforts fail to extort from the young
priest either the treasures of his earthly
master or the denial of his heavenly Mas-
ter, he handed him over to a tyranni-
cal prefect named Sapricius. This digni-
tary, perhaps to shroud his tribunal with
the terrors of the dungeon beneath, held
his court of judgment in the Mamertine
prison.* Proud of the privilege of shed-
ding Christian blood, this prefect had Ter-
tullianus led around the Forum in chains,
and a crier going before him announcing
that he was a Christian. Intended to
strike terror into the people, it was the
arrangement of divine Providence, that they
might see and know the conversion and
triumph of those who, a short time be-
fore, were pagans like themselves. "Words
sound, but, example thunders."

Brought into the Mamertine, Sapricius
haughtily said, " Give your name ! "

"Sinner!" replied Tertullianus, "and' a
servant of the servants of Christ."

"Are you a slave or free?"

* '* Statim Sapricius prefectus tribunal sibi praeparari fecit
in loco qui dicitur Privata Mamertini." — Acts S. Stephanie
No. It.

44^ The Victims of the Mamertine,

** The devil has so blinded your heart
that you don't understand what I say. I
told you I was the servant of the servants
of Jesus Christ."

" Sacrifice !" thundered the irate prefect.
** Give up the treasures of Olympius, and
enjoy life." . ^^v t

"If you knew what eternal life meant,"
replied Tertullianus mildly, "you would not
value the present life, which for the wor-
shippers of demons will be changed into
aiji eternal conflagration."

The prefect ordered his mouth to be
beaten with stones.

The holy martyr, unmoved, replied:
" You order my mouth to be struck, but
He who reigns above will strike you and
the demons, who are the inventors of the
follies of paganism." ^

He is stretched on the rack and beat-
en. During those excruciating tortures he
poured forth this beautiful prayer: "O
Lord Jesus Christ ! do not abandon the
most unworthy of thy servants, confessing
thy glory. Give me strength to p'ersevere
in unvarying confidence, that I may de-
liver to thy hands this soul which thou

Tertullianus,

447

hast redeemed with thy blood, and mer-
citully drawn from the darkness of igno-
rance and the worship of idols."

In the meantime Sapricius sent word to
Valerian that he could not succeed in get-
ting anything from Tertullianus the Chris-
tian, neither sacrifice nor gold, and word
was brought back to have him beheaded.
He was taken to the second milestone on
the Latin Way ; and, strange to say, on the
very spot where he stood a few days before
to gaze in deep sympathy on the martyrdom
of twelve brave priests he himself gained
the crown of a priest and martyr — a title
that constitutes the brightest sun of the
eternal kingdom of God.

The aged Stephen wept when he heard
of the noble end of his neophyte priest,
and with his own hands placed his relics
along with the other twelve, where a rude
sepulchral slab tells "they sleep in peace,"

iS'DX

CHAPTER XIV.

THE ACTS.

ABUNDIUS AND ABUNDANTIUS.
I.

T the time that Diocletian and
his impious associate in the
empire, Galerius, were prepar-
ing the edicts for the persecution of the
Christians, the pagan priests at Rome,
who knew their hour was coming, were
preparing to give the edicts the full force
of their terrors the moment the storm-
cloud would burst in the East. The
houses of the noted Christians, the places
of assembly, and special victims of their
hatred or fear, were all marked in their
tablets with the sign of blood. In the
impatience of persons famishing with hun-
ger, waiting to be called to a banquet,
those representatives of the powers of

44«

The Acts,

449

darkness longed to satiate in torture the
hatred they bore the Christian name. Be-
cause Diocletian delayed the persecution,
they sent a representative from Rome to
urge on the piety of the emperor his duty
towards the gods, and extend the proposed
edict to the city. According to the Acts of
Abundius and Abundantius, a lawyer stood
before the emperor and said to him : ** I
suggest to your piety that you order those
concealed in the city be sought, who are
the authors of this sect and seduce the
people from the temples of the gods; let
them be seized and end their lives by
divers torments, or offer incense and sacri-
fice to the omnipotent gods." The zeal
and deputation of the pagan priests had
been anticipated ; the messenger of evil
had already winged its way to the capital ;
the blood of the martyrs had commenced
to flow ; and angels were preparing crowns
of glcry for the triumphant children of
the cross.

Amongst the houses where the Chris-
tians gathered, and marked by the pagans,
there was one in tlie street called La-
narius, and belonging to a pious matron

450 The Victims of the Mamertine.

named Theodora. At a moment when
some pious souls were gathered together
in this house, perhaps to assist at the cele-
bration of the Holy Mysteries or receive
pious instruction from the good priest
Abundius, the soldiers surrounded the
house and seized the Christians, who were
twenty-five in number. Amongst them
weie the brothers Abundius the priest,
and Abundantius, a deacon, who \vere im-
mediately put into chains and brought be-
fore the representatives of the emperor.
As they were not only the leaders of this
noble band of Christians, but were them-
selves of noble birth and family, on them
fell the weight of the tyrant s wrath.
Whilst their companions were sent to their
crown at once, Abundius and Abundantius
were reserved for greater trials, to give
greater glory to God. They were bound
in chains and cast into the Mamertine,
where they were kept for thirty days.
After many tortures they found their
crown at one of the milestones outside of
the city. Let us follow the events of their
passion, which are given simply and briefly
in their Acts.

The Acts,

451

Brought before Hercules, the prefect,
he said: "Whence come you, and of what
religion are you ? "

Abundius, replying, said. "The men
whom you see here are Christians, and
their names are written in heaven."
. Then the prefect said : "I see you se-
duce them, that they may not sacrifice to
the gods."

But they, as if with one voice, said:
" Never may it be that we shall sacrifice to
the demons whom you worship. We offer
the sacrifice of pious devotion to our Lord
Jesus Christ in the odor of sweetness."

Hercules, the judge, said to Abundius:
"How are you called ? "

He answered : " My first and spiritual
name is Christian, and I am called a
priest; my name in the flesh is Abundius,
and I am a servant of our Lord Jesus
Christ. But do not think that those who
are here with me will ever consent to re-
cognize your gods."

Then Abundantius the deacon said:
" Do you think that we adore deaf and
dumb idols, without sense, without power?
We turn towards Him who alone is worthy

452 The Victims of the Mamertine,

of adoration, who made heaven and earth
and everything that is."

The prefect then said: "Who is he, and
what did he do?"

Abundantius replied and said: "God, the
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who
made heaven and earth and everything
that is in them ; but your idols, which are
made of wood and stone, will perish in an
everlasting fire, together with those who
worship them."

' The judge then said : " Will you sacri-
fice to the god Hercules, and depart un-
touched?" •■

But they said: "We will never sacrifice
to your devils."

Then the judge ordered Abundius the
priest and Abundantius the deacon to be
cast into the Mamertine prison, and the
other twenty-three to be brought outside
the walls of the city and be beheaded,
which sentence was carried out on the
nones of August. Their bodies were col-
lected by John the priest and Theodora
the matron, and buried in the crypt at the
Clivum Cucumeris.

Then the matron Theodora wei»t to the

The Acts.

453

the
be
the
lide
ded,
the
col-
lora
the

the

prison to see Abundius and Abundantius,
and relate to them how bravely the mar-
tyrs suffered, and how the blessed priest
John gathered together their bodies, and
bir.ding them with aromatic wrappings,
buried them in the crypt on the same
road where they entered in peace into the
mysteries of Christ.

After thirty days the judge ordered the
saints of God to be brought from prison
and presented to him in the Forum, near
the Temple of the Earth ; and they were
brought before him, bound with chains.
Then he said to them : " What are you
doing for your safety ? Give up this per-
tinacity, and not be trust in magic arts,
lest you perish like those with whom you
have been tried."

The saints replied : " They have not
perished, but are in glory now . with
Christ."

A certain lawyer present then said to
the judge: " Unless these are put to death,
there will no longer be any fear in the
people."

Then the judge ordered them to be
stretched on the rack and tortured, and

454 ^-^^ Victims of the Mameriine,

during their suffering they said : ** Glory
be to our Lord Jesus Christ." ^

Then the judge said : " Still you name
Christ. No'^* I will destroy this perii-
n..city 1')- the power of the great Her-
cules." ,v

He ordered thLhi to be brought to the
fourteenth milestone on the Flaminian
Way, and be beheaded. \

Whilst they were being led forth, bound
with chains, and when they arrived at the
city of Lubras, tl ere came to them a cele-
brated man named Marcian, who, weep-
ing, said to them, ' Alas ! I have lost my
son."

The blessed Abundius said: "And who
has taken thy son from thee ? "

Marcian replied, " He is dead."

Immediately the holy martyrs said:
** Hasten, bring him here, and you will
see the goodness of our Lord Jesus
Christ."

When he had gone to bring his son,
the ministers of the devil would not wait,
but brought the martyrs to the place of
execution. But when they arrived there,
behold Marcian, having run with the

The Acts,

455

ere,
the

greatest speed he w^s able, came up in
time, bearing his dead child in his arms,
and laid hini at the feet of the holy mar-
tyre, and almost out of breath, but with
much ardor, said : " I conjure you by Him
for whom you suffer that you will obtain
for me that I may come to my err . r»
with you after the resurrection of my r ''•n,'

Then the people who had ga^* -^^r *d
around wondered if they would be able to
raise the son to life. . They cast i/^-^n-
selves on the earth, and with tears prayed
to the Lord, saying : " O Lord Jesus
Christ ! who didst deign to raise Lazarus,
after four days' corruption, from the tortib,
deign now to send an angel to recall the
spirit to this inanimate body, that all may
know that you are the Son of God, who
hast come to save this world, who livest
and reignest through all ages."

Rising from his prayer, Saint Abundius
said to the corpse : " I say to thee, dry
earth, arise in the name of our Lord Jesus
Christ, in whose name the dead rise and
live for ever with him." And immediately
the child's eyes were opened and he
arose.

45^ The Victims of the Ufamertine,

Then, Marcian bringing a vessel of
water, Abundius baptized him, together
with his son whom he had called back
to life, in the name of the Father, Son,
and the Holy Ghost; after which the
executioners seized Marcian and his son,
and, whilst they all Tknelt and gave thanks
to God, the soldiers cut off their heads,
on the sixteenth kalends of October. The
same night Tlieodora came with her sons
and secured the bodies of the martyrs,
and brought them to her own farm,
twenty-eight miles from the city, and
there, casting balms around them, she
buried them in peace.

11.

The fame of those martyrs was greater
in the early ages than at present. A
church was erected to their honor in the
vineyard of Theodora, where she her-
self, a short time afterwards, was laid in
similar honor, bearing on her tomb the
simplest but most eloquent epitaph that
could tell to passing generations the his-
tory of the dead — the crown and the

The Acts,

457

palm. There is an extraordinary account
given of another church erected to com-
memorate those saints by Pepin, the son
of Charlemagne • This prince was on his
way to Rome, and, rrriving at Sienna, he
was much moved by the fame of these
great martyrs, and determined to build c'
church under their invocation. Having
selected a site on the public road near the
city and at the foot of the hill, he com-
menced the foundation. The next day,
however, not a trace of the work done the
day before could be found. The grass
grew as if not a sod had been turned.
But high up, near the summit of the
mountain, was found an exact appearance
of the work performed in the valley. The
good prince took the hint that the saints
wished their temple to be erected in that
spot, and with great devotion and mag-
nanimity erected a splendid church away
upon the mountain, which is now called
Sant Abondio. To the church he added a
spacious convent, which he gave to the reli-
gious sisters of St. Benedict; and for many
centuries this convent flourished with
great sanctity.

45 8 The Victims of the Mamertine,

\\\ the year looo the rehcs of these
martyrs were transhited from the church
in the vineyard of St. Theodora. Some
events that passed on this occasion are
extremely interesting.

Otho III., having- built the Church of
St. Adalbert, now St. Bartholomew, in the
island of the Tiber, wished to enrich it
with all the valuable relics he could ga-
ther. Having learned there were a great
many holy relics in the Church of St.
Abundius and St. Abundantius, which
stood at the base of Mons Soracte, he
sent his servants to bring those relics to
Rome. They found in one tomb the bo-
dies of these holy martyrs, and near, in a
separate monument, the relics of St. Theo-
dora, besides several other holy martyrs,
who were wrapped in vestments of gold,
and slept in sumptuous monuments, their
names unknown, all which they brought to
Rome.

After those holy relics were taken away,
.the bishop who ruled the church in this
country, by name Crescentianus, wept with
grief, and came to the sepulchre to see if
any relics might have been left to console

hii

The Acts,

459

liim. He ordered excavations to be made
deeper into the sepulchre, and there, to his
joy, he found the bodies of Marcian agd
John his son, who were baptized under
such extraordinary circumstances by the
holy priest Abundius. He collected the
relics, and summoned all his priests
around him, in order to brings his treasures
with becoming pomp and devotion to his
cathedral church in Castellana. Whilst the
procession was passing- the Church of St.
Eustachius an image of St. Theodora,
placed in the church, commenced visibly to
weep, by which miracle it was believed
Almighty God wished to show his displea-
sure and that of his holy servants at the
desecration and removal of these holy re-
lics from the villa of the blessed Theo-
dora. The relics were, however, brought
to the Church of St. Hippolytus, and here
another < Ktraordinary miracle took place.
There were on the altars some faded lilies
and other flowers, which were quite dried
up; but the moment the relics were brought
into the church these flowers bloomed
afresh, as if just culled ui the garden, and
sent forth a delicious fragrance. Which

II r

460 T/ie Victims of the Mamertine,

fact tin; bishop and priests and the whole
city testifitid to have seen.

The next day the relics were removed
to the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
It was raining the whole niglit, and just
b(ifore the procession started it was pour-
ing drenching torrents, so that many wished
to postpone the ceremony; but the bishop
was inflexible, and, as if inspired by God
to give occasion for another marvellous
interposition of those holy saints, the
moment they left the church the rain
ceased, the clouds opened above "them,
and, although the rain fell in torrents
on every side of them, not a drop fell
on those employed in the procession.
In the Church of the Blessed Virgin other
very extraordinary miracles took place.
A little girl, who was wasting away with
some unknown complaint, and was reduced
ot a skeleton, was instantly cured when
brought in presence of the relics.

The bodies of SS. Abundius and Ab-
undantius underwent several translations
after this. The antipope Anacletus had
them removed to the Church of SS. Cos-
mas aud Damian, over which church he

The Acts,

461

was the cardinal titular; and then again
they were removed with immense solem-
nity, in the year 1584, and placed under
the high altar of the Gesii. The crowds
that showed their devotion to the holy
martyrs on this occasion were so great
that the immense church of the Gesii
could not hold the half of them. A por-
tion of these relics were sent to blessed
St. Francis Xavier in Japan, where that
apostle taught his neophytes to love and
reverence the great martyrs of the Church,
whose example and fortitude in suffering
for the taith would encoura<^e them in the
trials they would soon have to suffer for
the same faith.

CHAPTER XV.

THE COMPANIONS OF POPE STEWIEN AND
TTIE CHURCH OF ST. AGATHA.

EARLY all the mart3Ts that glo-
rified God in the arena of the
Coliseum sanctified by their pre-
sence the dungeons of the Mamertine. In
the Acts of Pope Stephen, which we have
given in their original, we have record
of a whole family cast into the Mamer-
tine and afterwards executed at the "Ac-
cursed Stone." Their relics are preserved
under the high altar of the Church of
St. Aoatha. Around this venerable litde
church, now the collecriate church of the
Irish Colleore at Rome, there \\3.n<z some
thrilling historical reminiscences, which we
will make the subject of this chapter.

Some of its oldest traditions bring us

4612

Companiofts of Pope Stephen, 463

back to the time of Julius Csesar. It is
said that on the spot where now stands
the Church of St. Agatha this Hon of Ro-
man history had a magnificent mansion.
It was at that time outside the walls of •
the city ; hence the district around is, to
this day, called Suburra, a corruption of
the word suburbia.

This portion of the Quirinal had also
the name of the " Marble Horse," from
an immense equestrian statue in marble
erected before the residence of Caesar.*

In the next century after Julius Caesar
we find ther *. was here a temple to the
god Silvanus f* — a god of Grecian origin,
supposed to dwell in groves and to be the
protector of cattle, sheep, etc. Amongst
the ridiculous fables of mythology, the cy-
press-tree is supposed to have been made
by this god. There was a beautiful boy,
named Cyparissus, much loved by Silva-
nus, who one day accidentally killed a fa-
vorite stag. Cyparissus was much fretted,
and was pining away, when Silvanus see-
ing hip; so much afflicted, and wishing to

* Marliani, lib. iii. cli. vii,
f Faustus, lib. iv. cli. xvii.

464 The Victims of the Mamertine,

have him near himself, turned him into this
beautiful tree.

Two centuries rolled over, and the de-
mons who rejoiced in the absurdities
of paoanism still reigned in this spot.
But as soon as the storms of persecution
had subsided, and Sylvester and Constan-
tine were erecting Christian monuments
through the city, the temple was turn-
ed into a church and dedicated to the
renowned Sicilian virgin and martyr,
Agatha. Before acquainting the reader
how this temple became dedicated to St.
Agatha, we must recall an extraordina-
ry historical fact, beautifully expressed in
verse by the gifted Cowper:

Thl
Dr{
Anj
Wl|

In
Bui
Cai
Hai

Vii

"There was a time when Etna's silent lire
Slept unperceived, the mountain yet entire ;
When, conscious of no daniL^er from below,
She towered a cloud-capped pyramid of snow ;
No thunder shook with deep, intestine sound
The blooming groves that girdled her around ;
Her unctuous olives and her purple vines
Unfelt the fury of those bursting mines,
The peasant's hopes, and, not in vain assured^
j'n peace upon her sloping sides matured ;
When, on a day like that of the last doom,
A ronflagration laboring in her womb.
She tecnii'd and heaved with an infernal birth

Companions of Pope Stephen, 465

That shook the circling seas and solid earth.

Dark and voiunriuous the vapors rise

And hang their horrors in the neighboring skies ;

While through the Stygian veil that blots the day

In dazzling streaks the vivid lightnings play.

But, oh ! what muse, and in what powers of song,

Can trace the torrent as it burns along, "

Havoc and devastation in the van ?

It marches o'er the prostrate works of man ;

Vines, olives, herbage, forests, disappear,

And all the charms of a Sicilian year."

It was during the first and probably the
most terrible eruption of this mountain
that the city of Catania was saved by a
veil taken from the tomb of St. Agatha.
This eruption took place in 354, the an-
niversary of the martyrdom of St. Agatha.
The molten lava was pouring down the
mountain-side in destructive fury, and
threatened the beautiful city with n i.
In their consternation the Christians ad
recourse to their beloved patron, and ar-
ried a veil from the sepulchre in proces-
sion towards the mountain. The pagans
joined in this procession ; for they had al-
ready a secret reverence, on account of
her miracles. Like the volcano itself, this
devotion burst forth suddenly, and in Lie
moment of danger showed itself fearlessly.

II'

466 The Victims of the Mamertine.

The city was saved and converted. His-
tory records that four times the city of
Catania was thus protected from what
seemed inevitable ruin. The fame of the
Sicihan thaumaturgus, the devotion and
love of the people for this favorite spouse
of God, were wafted on the cheerful breez-
es to Rome and the Christian world. The
martyrs are not the property of the ham-
let or town where they suffered : they are
tile glory of the Church ; hence devotion
to St. Aoratha was as stronof in Rome as
in Sicily. Pope Sylvester received some
of her precious relics, and, looking around
for a spot to raise a church in her honor,
selected the ruins of the Temple of Silva-
nus, zw the slopes of the Quirinal, and
thus commenced the beautiful and artistic
Chu''ch of St. Agatha in Suburra.*

That this church is one of the most an-
cient in Rome, and probably erected in the
time of Constantine (as asserted by Pan-
ciroli), may be easily surmised from the
fact that it was in a ruinous condition in
the year 472, when Ricimer, a Goth and
an Arian, rebuilt it in consequence of a

* Panciroli, " Sesori Nescoste," p. 272.

Companions of Pope Stephen, 467

vow he made in the midst of crimes and
bloodshed. This appears from an ancient
inscription which, up to the time of Cardi-
nal F'rederick Borromeo (1586), was pre-
served in the tribune of the church. It
runs thus : •* tl. ricimer v. i. m agister

UTRIUSQUE MILITI/E PATRICIUS ET EXCONS.
ORD. PRO VOTO sue ADORNAVIT."

When, some years afterwards, the Goths
took possession of Rome, the Arian priests
demanded this church. They retained pos-
session of it for several centuri > until at
length the Goths were finally banished,
and Arianism, like a rotten branch, fell
from the live tree, and, like the burnt
wood, was forgotten. Gregory I. appoijai-
cd a man named Leone to restore this
church, so long desecrated, and he hinnself
consecrated it in the following year ^593);
a description of which he gives us in his
" Dialogues " (lib. iii. book xxx..|

During the celebration of ife ffivrrre
mysteries bv the Holy Father all thai ve?^
present heard the screams of m piip, auoa
many felt the animal passing tlrDurSi ^tmm
legs; but no one saw it. On :h«r foDow-
ing night a frightful noise was heard on

468 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the roof — screams, yells, and the rattling
of tiles — as if the whole fabric would col-
lap

se in ruin at any

moment. Thus the

demons were permitted to express their
regret in being banished from their tem-
ple, where they had reigned so long to the
ruin of souls and insult tO God. On the
other hand, the angels were permitted to
manifest their joy and their presence inside
the church. A beautiful, luminous cloud
hung for several days over the high altar,
and the church was filled with the most
delicious perfume. After the functions the
sacristan extinguished the lights, when they
were suddenly lit again by some invisible
hand, showing, as Gregory suggests, that
the light of faith now cast its saving rays,
like the sun, on a place buried in the dark
night of heresy and unbelief. *

*"Et praj ejusdem loci angustia populi se turba compri-
meret, quidani ex liis qui extra saciariuin stabant porcum
subito intra si os pedes hue illucque discurrere senserunt ;
. ♦ . sed videri a nullo potult quamvis sentiri potuisset.

". . . Peracta igitur celebratione Missarum reccssinius ;
sed adhuc nocte eadem magnus in ejusdem ecclesiie tectis
strepitus factus est ac si in els aliquis errando discurreret ;
. . . tanta terrore insonuit ac si omnis ilia ecclesia a funda-
mentis fuisset aversa. ... Super altare ejusdem ecdesiae
nubcs coelitus descendit suoque illud velamirje operuit, om

Companions of Pope Stephen. 469

These strange events were represented
in fresco on the walls of the church, but,
as they became faded, in six hundred years
afterwards they were completely destroyed
by Cardinal Gozzadini in the year 1622.
It is probable that this church was also
dedicated to St. Sebastian. The relics of
that saint were brought with those of St.
Agatha. Such was the custom of this Pon-
tiff; and the city of Rome was preserved
at that time from a pestilence by St. Se-
bastian, in testimony of which the peo-
ple erected in his honor the altar in St.
Peter in Vincoli.*

Secular priests were in charge of the
church up to the end of the eighth cen-
tury. It was then, in the year 795, given
by Leo III. to the Benedictine monks of
Monte Casino. Its superior was one of

nemque ecclesiam tanto terrore ac suavitatis odore replevit
ut patentibus januis nullus illic praesumeret intrare.

" Post paucos iterum dies cum expletisMissarumsoIemniis
ex*inctis lampadibus custos ex eadem ecolesia egressus fuis-
set, post paululum intravit ct Ijmpades quas extinctas reli-
querat lucentes reperit . . . ut aperte ea ipso lumine clares-
ceret quia locus ille a tetiebris ad lucem venisset." — Dialogues,
book ill. chap. xxx.

*"Storia della Diaconia di S. Agatha in Suburra," Gio-
vanni Laurenti.

470 1^^^ Victims of the Mamertine,

' the twenty pi ivileged abbots of Rome
who assisted the Holy Father when offici-
atinor solemnly at St. John Lateran's. The
church and monastery is generally called,
from this period, St. Agatha in Monasterio.
Towards the end of the twelfth century it
was taken fi'om the Benedictines (1198), in
punishment, probably, of their having sup-
ported the cause of the antipope Victor
IV.; and from the hands of secular priests
it passed, in the thirteenth century, to the
Congregation of the Humiliati, a religious
order strange in its origin and stranger
still in its suppression. It took its origin
from some Milanese prisoners brought to
Germany by Frederick I., better known as
Frederick Barbarossa (Redbeard). Wearied

• with their exile and longing to return to
their native land, a number of. them sued
for pardon and liberty. It was granted.
They were so grateful to God for this
favor that they devoted themselves entirely
to his holy service ; husbands and wives
amongst them agreeing to separate and
taking vows of chastity. Those who were
free worked together at a manufactory of
wool. They followed a holy rule in com-

Companions of Pope Stephen, 471

•

miinity life, and were afterwards placed
under die rule of St. Benedict, and con-
firmed by Innocent III. in the year 1200.

The Humiliati in course of time fell
from their original fervor, and in the time
of St. Charles Borromeo were a source of
great disedification to the Church. This
holy prelate did all he could to reform
them, but his efforts displeased some of
their provosts so much that they entered
into a conspiracy to murder the arch-
bishop. One of their number was there-
fore charged with the bloody deed, and
this wretch was so desperate that he de-
termined to perish himself in the under-
taking. Charles was preserved by a mira-
cle. One evening, when kneeling in his
private oratory, reciting the Rosary with
the members of his household, the assassin
boldly entered the palace, approached the
litde chapel, and in the midst of the whole
household drew from under his cloak a
loaded arquebuse and fired at the cardinal.
The ball passed the rochet, but no fur-
ther. The order was immediately sup-
pressed by Pius V. This was in the
year 1577. Two years later the church

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472 The Victims of the Mamertine.

and monastery were given to the monks
of Monte Virgine, founded by William the
Abbot. It was Laurenti, one of the su-
periors of this community, who has writ-
ten the interesting history of the ancient
church up to the year 1797. He relates,
besides the facts we have already given,
that in ancient times the street now
known as Via di S. Agatha in Suburra
was called Via Martyrum, or Scala Mor-
tuorum, because the Christians were con-
ducted through this street to the Coliseum
or the Pietra Scellerata.*

In 1594, whilst the monks were carrying
the Blessed Sacrament in procession from
one gate of the church to the other, there
happened to be in the crowd a young
Lutheran enthusiast from England. He
made a rush at the Blessed Sacrament,
and, taking the remonstrance from the
priest's hands, flung it violently on the
ground. He was immediately seized by an
infuriated mob, and, as it transpired that he
had already insulted the Catholics several
times, he was burnt alive in the Campo di
Fior^. He was only thirty years of age. f

Page 22.

f Laurenti, page 23.

Companions of Pope Stephen, 473

A study of the ancient inscriptions of
this church would well repay the toil they
would give. They contribute their quota
of curiosities to the Vatican museum. In-
side the present choir, and just before the
high altar, there is a stone which an-
nounces the original was removed to the
Vatican museum in 1757. This ancient
inscription would seem at first an inexpli-
cable puzzle, but, when discovered, will
cause a hearty laugh. It shows that the
ancients as well as moderns introduced
witticisms into epitaphs of the dead. We
give but a feeble idea of the original in
the following :

Hie requiescit in pace Domna Bonov.
Sa qvix ann. XXXXXX. et Domo Menna.

Qvixit innos . . . (abeat an.at.
Ema a Ivda si qvis altervm omine svper
Me posver anathema abeas da tri.

Centi de cem et octo patriarche
Qvichanones esposvervn et da sea xpi

Pvatvor evangelia.

The meaning is: "Here lies in peace
Lady Bonusa, who lived sixty years,
and Mr. Menna, who lived . .. . years.
The curse of Judas on any one who will
place another man over me, and may he

474 2^^^ Victims of the Mamertine.

have also the curse of the three hundred
and eighteen patriarchs who explained the
canons, and of the four holy Evangelists
of Christ." *

The relics of the saints Hippolytus,
Adrias, Maria, Neone, Paulina, Nominanda,
Aurelia, and Martana were brought to this
church from the cemetery of St. Callistus
during the pontificate of Leo IX., about
the year 1150. The wooden case being
decayed, they were removf^d to a marble
urn in 1504, with the relics of twenty-three
other saints. They were opened again by
Cardinal Barberini in 1636, when they
"were divided as they now stand — that is,
under the high altar, the bodies of Hip-
polytus, Adrias, Mary, and Neone ; and
under the altar of St. Agatha, Paulina, Au-
relia, Martana, and Nominanda.

This church has been enriched by a
treasure of indulgences given by several

* Very interesting and erudite articles have been written
on this curious epitaph by Cittadini, "Origine della Lingua,"
page 82 ; William Fleetwood, '• Inscrip. Ant.," part ii., page
964; Aringhi, " Roma Subterran.," page 138; Martinelli,
•' Diaconia di S. Agatha," page 14 ; Ciampini, Gervason, Laii-
renti, and others. Lady Bonusa and Sig. Menna lived about
twelve hundred years ago. ,

Companions of Pope Stephen, 475

pontiffs. Martinelli relates that he read
in a MS. in the Vatican Library that there
are 3,000 years for every day in the year.
"In Ecclesia S. Agathae V. et M. omne
die sunt anni 3,000 indulgentiarum" (page
76). The statement seems too vague to
be authentic. Gregory XIII. granted a
plenary indulgence to all who, after due
reception of the sacraments of penance and
the Blessed Eucharist, will visit this church
on the feast of St. Agatha, and pray for
the concord of Christian princes, the extir-
pation of heresies, and the exaltation of
the Church.

Clement X., by bull dated December 19,
1 67 1, granted to this church all the privi-
leges already granted to the Benedictine
churches, viz., a plenary indulgence on the
following days:

St. i\. aurus, January 10.

St Scholastica, February 50.

St. Benedict, March 21.

SS. Placidus and Companions, October 5.

All the saints of the Benedictine Order.
November 13.

The Irish College has only been con-
nected with this cluirch and monastery

.^ 476 The Victims of the Mamertine,

since 1837, when, through the energetic
management of Cardinal Cullen and the
generosity of Gregory XVI., the college
was removed from the miserable house in
the Via di San Marco. Although there are
many interesting particulars connected with
the history of the Irish College, it would
be foreign to the subject of the present
volume ; yet we will glance at one fact
not generally known, another link be-
tween the persecutions of the past and
» the present, another proof that those loved
by God must suffer. We allude to the
part this institution took in the suppres-
sion of the Jesuits in 1773. ^ ^
Like the altars that are raised over the
tombs of the martyrs, this college is a
monument of the dark days of persecution.
Its memories are shrouded with the hor-
rors of bloodshed — not through the cruel
edicts of Nero, of Decius, or Diocletian,
but through the penal laws of Henry,
Elizabeth, and Cromwell. There were
days when the children of Ireland were
dragged before the tribunals of heresy ;
when her churches and sanctuaries were
rifled and desecrated ; when she had her

Companions of Pope Stephen, 477

re
itre

catacombs in the caverns of her moun-
tains, her schools proscribed, and the
heads of her priests were sought at the
reward of their weight in gold. In the
midst of those trials, of dear memory to
our faith, a noble and generous Italian
prelate opened a refuge for the exiled
Levites of the Irish Church.

In the year 1627 Cardinal Ludovico
Ludovisi; Archbishop of Bologna, was de-
clared Protector of Ireland. He was de-
termined that this should not be an empty
title, as far as he was concerned, in Ire-
land's dark hour of need. With the as-
sistance of Luke Wadding, the celebrated
Irish Franciscan, who had just established
the Irish convent at St. Isidore's, the car-
dinal caused six students to be brought
from Ireland and maintained at his own
expense. Four were placed in the Eng-
lish College, and two in some other insti-
tution. This arrangement was soon found
to be imprudent. The difference of char-
acter, the national antipathy which has ever
marked the history of those two nations,
and the awful circumstances of the times,
gave little hope of union between those

478 The Victims of the Mamertine,

opposing elements. Although the English
and Irish students were both exiles and
both persecuted for the same faith, still the
good cardinal had to separate them. He
accordingly bought a house near St. Isi-
dore's, placed the six students under the
care of the Franciscans, and on the ist
of January, 1628, opened the institution
which we now know as the Irish Collenfe
at Rome. The names of the first six
students were Eugene Colgan, John St.
Laurence, Christopher Chamberlain, Ed-
ward Wall, Terence Kelly, John Cruce.

Once set afloat on the sea of life, it had
a stormy voyage up to the commence-
ment of this century. Its destinies be-
came wrapped up with the Jesuits, and, al-
though it survived them in 1773, many of
our readers will be surprised to hear that it
contributed in no small degree to the sup-
pression of that order by Clement XIV.

It is a strange fact that the first brief
issued by this Pontiff against the Jesuits
was that which removed them from the Irish
College. The cry of extermination that
was uttered against the Jesuits in all the
Catholic countries of Europe found at last

Companions of Pops Stephen, 479

ief
its
sh
lat

an echo under the shadow of the Vatican
itself; the protest of the Irish, though
feeble, was more effectual in producing the
suppression than the threats of princes or
the spoliation of the property of the Holy
See, already commenced by France and
Naples. It happened thus:

Seven years after its foundation the
college was in a flourishing state, but re-
ceived its first grief in the death of its
founder and protector, Cardinal Ludovisi,
who died at Bologna in 1632, being only
thirty- seven years of age. When his will
was opened, it was found he had not
forgotten his children from Ireland. He
made them a free gift of the house they
lived in, an income of a thousand scudi a
year (about two hundred pounds), and a
large and beautiful villa at Castel Gondolfo.
But, what was surprising at the time, he
also arranged that the Jesuits should take
the administration and care of the college.
This seemed remarkable, as no fault could
be found with the Franciscan Fathers, the
college was flourishing, the students con-
tent, and the cardinal himself in his life-
time showed no sign of disapprobation.

480 The Victims of the Afamertine.

To give the history of the college under
the Jesuits, up to the time of their banish-
ment from it, wDuld be to rake up many
a sad scene of misrepresentation, calumny,
and discontent. There was a terrible de-
cree written in heaven. It was an answer
to the prayer of the wounded soldier of
Pampeluna. All the efforts of the fathers
to promote the welfare of the students
were abortive, and produced the contrary
effect. Imprudent superiors were permit-
ted to guide the institution to certain ruin.
In a few years the income of the college
was lost and their college sold. The stu-
dents were tossed about for three years
without a fixed abode ; then a miserable
residence was purchased in a poor district,
leaving a debt of several thousand scudi.
The villa at Castel Gondolfo was sold, and
even the annuity of one thousand scudi
was disposed of, and the purchase-money
dwindled away, no one knows how, like
the large rivers that are said to disappear
gradually in the centre of Africa. Add to
these unaccountable evils the discontent
of the students themselves. Some of
the fiery appeals to the Cardinal- Pro-

Companions of Pope Stephen, 481

pear
d to
itent
of
Pro-

tector and the Holy See might well be
held, at the hands of these persecuted
fathers, as the wounds they received in the
house of their friends. Injustice, robbery,
tyranny, and ill-treatment are but feeble
expressions to convey the charges unscru-
pulously attributed to their mismanage-
ment. Suffice it to say that the same spirit
that drove them from Portugal, France,
Spain, and the two Sicilies had triumphed
in the heart of Rome itself. An apostolical
enquiry was instituted. One of the most
damnatory reports ever laid before the
Holy See was drawn up by Cardinal Mare-
foschi. Appearances were not only against
them, but the sale of the funds to their
own novitiate was represented as an inex-
cusable, unpalliative injustice. The report
descended to the petty complaints of the
students — insufficient bread, bad wine, and
tattered garments— and there were about
thirty other distinct accusations of domes-
tic treatment that excite rather contempt
for the fabricators of the report and sym-
pathy for the accused. Nevertheless, sins of
mismanagement were proved against them,
and on the 23d of September, 1772, Cle-

482 The Victims of the Mamertine.

ment XIV. issued a brief, removing^ them
from the college. This was the first in-
dication of the displeasure of this Pope.
They were banished and persecuted by the
powers of the world, but in this they re-
joiced, as they were honored with the ful-
filment of the divine prophecy ; but con-
demned by the Holy See, removed from
their spiritual charge, and obliged to retire
with their fair name blasted, was a bitter
trial to the children of Ignatius. It was
the prophecy of greater sorrows as keen
as the sword that pierced the heart of
Mary.

When the tide of misfortune sets in
against man, it is surprising how new and
unexpected enemies spring up on every
side. The world seemed to find out sud-
denly that the Jesuits were all bad; men
who at night boasted of being their pupils,
their penitents, their friends, rose in the
morning their bitterest enemies. Misrep-
resentations poured in from every quarter.
They were removed from the direction of
the Roman Seminary ; the donation of
Clement XIII. was taken from the Por-
tuguese exiles; powdered ambassadors

Companions of Pope Sfcphcn, 483

in
and

thronored the antecluunhers of the Vatican,
avvaitiii<^ their turn to hurry in to the dis-
tracted Pontiff to announce the storms of
pohtical woe gathering in the courts of
Europe on account of the poor Jesuits.
Some of the patrimony of the Holy See
was already seized on their account by
France and Naples. The cloud was gather-
ing darker and darker around the doomed
society. At length the fatal bull, '' Domi-
nus ac Redempior noster,'' was drawn up.
The Holy Father was for three days shut
up in his room, and, in an induscribable
agony of doubt such as broke the heart
of his predecessor, he deliberated over the
momentous bull that lay on his table wait-
ing for his signature. Finally, about eight
o'clock on the evening of the 21st of July,
on the parapet of the window, with the
light of the moon, he signed with a trem-
bling hand the suppression of the Society
of Jesus. The Jesuits had then the care
of colleges and churches to the number of
3,091, 22,589 members, and the care of
miHions of souls. The most remarkable
event in the history of the Irish College
at Rome is the part it took in the tempo-

484 The Victims of the Matn-'rtine,

rary suspension of the Jesuits — an event
the most remarkable in modern history,
the most mysterious in the designs of the
divine providence that guides the Church
of God. The submission with which the
good fathers received the decrees of the
Holy See, the grief of pious Catholics all
over the world, and the very wording of
th^ bull that condemned them, was suffi-
cient proof that the prayers of Ignatius
were heard in heaven, and that God in-
tended great things for the Society of
Jesus, since he permitted its enemies
to triumph awhile. Could we seek any
stronger proof of the blessing of heaven
that shrouds them than the opposition
that they mev^t now, as of old, from the
impious, the irreligious, and the members
of the secret societies? . . ■

¥*'^

-^» — ^^-

!f J

CHAPTER XVI.

LUCIA.

jMONGST the blessings enjoyed
in this valley of tears, there are
few equal to a mother's joy in
the heart of a virtuous family. Forget-
ful of past sorrows and present cares,
the cheerful hours flow on, her children
healthy, beautiful, and obedient. How the
gratitude of such a mother should ascend
like sweet incense to the throne of God !
Alas ! such joy is an oasis in the wil-
derness of life. For millions of the hapless
daughters of Eve this ideal of domestic
bliss is but a mirage that floats in aerial
beauty over the desert of human sorrow,
tantalizing the wearied wayfarers with
a repose they shall only find at their

journey's end. The sigh of heart-broken

48s

486 The Victims of the Mamertim.

mothers is carried on many a breeze.
Childhood gave its anxious cares, but
they were sweet in their burden. It is
not in the age of innocence that the
mother regrets her dignity ; when the
blooming child gladdens her soul, as he
laughs back to her smile; when every
prospect is bright, and fervid fancy reads
in each burstinof leaf of the rosebud the
hopes of future greatness. But when the
flower has bloomed, when vigorous ado-
lescence breaks the leading-strings, and
trusts, like the eaglet, to its own efforts ;
when the associations of riper years widen
the circle of acquaintances and lessen the
curbing influence of maternal advice, then
the heart-broken mother feels the curse
of the first parent on her progeny. She
gazes in anguish on the harrowing pic-
ture of future" ruin. See that sad coun-
tenance, those reddened eyes ! No cheer-
ful smile like sunshine plays on those
beautiful features ; a cloud has mantled
the look that was gay ; the garden-walk
has no longer its innocent joys; the ac-
customed drive is abandoned, and visits of
fashionable pastime are hated. Ask the

Lucia,

487

afflicted mother the cause of those tears,
that grief that has blasted her earlier joys.
"Alas! my son has fallen into the meshes
of bad associations; he has become a sworn
member of forbidden societies. He was a
good boy, but has bad companions. He
comes home drunk ; he no longer heeds
me," the poor mother replies, and buries
her face in her hands, and her handker-
chief is wet with her tears. But, poor
mother, pray for your son. " Think of
Monica," you will suggest in your efforts
to console. ''Ah! Monica was a saint;
she lived in the days of miracles."

Many of our readers find a truthful pic-
ture in this ideal mother who weeps over
the wanderings of a foolish son. Yet we
know not what consolation to give when
she abandons the anchor to which she
might safely cling in the storm of her
affliction — confidence in God. Could we
but revive this great, consoling virtue, that
shone so brightly in the lives of the early
martyrs, what balm would we not bring to
the wounded maternal heart! Yea, how
many hapless children of misfortune would
we not bring back to the paths of virtue!

488 The Victims of the Mamertine.

The hand of God is not shortened ; he
wills not the death of the sinner. Mira-
cles of conversion can gladden heaven and
the weeping parent now as in the days
of Monica; they are given by God in
every time and in every clime, according to
the measure of the faith that seeks them
and the perseverance that demands them.

But there is nothinor new under the sun !
As in our days many a poor, widowed
heart is writhing under the ill-treatment
of a worthless child, so in the early days
of Christianity there were weeping mo-
thers and wayward sons, and sad, touching
tales of domestic woe. The Acts of St.
Lucia introduce us to one of those scenes
of filial ingratitude.

" Want of affection " was marked by the
great apostle of election as a sign of an un-
believing heart ; but the wretch who could
sell an aged mother for gain was not wor-
thy to enjoy the light of heaven. Through
the Judas-like treason of her son this holy
widow was cast into the Mamertine.
From its dark recess she prayed for the
guilty child who mixed for old age the
bitter cup of maternal sorrow. Through

Lucia,

489

ine.
the
the

his treachery the poor old mother of
seventy-one years was treated with such
inhumanity that we almost doubt if the
barbarians of those times had anything
in common with the nobler sentiments of
our manhood.

The Acts, in their plain historical sim-
plicity, have an eloquence of their own.
The scene is cast under Diocletian ; but
here, most probably, as in other Acts, the
name of the emperor is given to the pre-
fect or tyrant who represented the em-
peror in condemning the Christians.

"It is reported to us," said the tyrant,
when the aged widow was dragged be-
fore his throne, " that you confess and
worship the crucified man called Christ,
and despise our gods."

" Yes," replied Lucia, " for your gods
are not able to help themselves nor
those who serve them; but my Lord Jesus
Christ, for whose glory I am prepared to
suffer chains, torments, and fire, will pro-
tect me. You may tear my aged body
to pieces, and cause it to go sooner to
the grave, which is already near; but you
will not get me to worship demons."

490 The Victims of the Mamertine.

" The judge, seeing her constancy " — we
quote the Acts literally — *' ordered her to
be cast into the prison where the spring
flows from the foundation ; aiid when cast
into this prison, the whole city was shaken
as with an earthquake, and the house of
the prefect who condemned her was shaken
to the ground. Brought before the judge
a second time, she caused by her prayers
the statue of Jupiter to fall to pieces.
The aged woman was stretched on the
rack, beaten, and then cast into a large
caldron of burning oil and pitch, in
which she was shut up for three days ;
when the judge sent to see if anything
was left of her, she was found without any
injury."* But the most extraordinary part
of the Acts of this holy widow is in the
events which are thus recorded :

••The impious judge, not moved to be-
lieve in Christ by this great miracle,
ordered that she should be loaded with
iron and lead, and be thus conducted
through the principal parts of the city.
They came in front of the house of a
very powerful man named Germinianus, in

*" Acts BoUandists," etc.

Lucia.

491

which there were an innumerable number
of idols of demons. Whilst the holy Lucia
was passing this house there descended
from heaven a beautiful dove, as white as
snow, and, flyiiig, described the sign of the
cross three times, and perched on the head
of Germinianus. Looking up, he saw the
heavens open over him ; immediately
taking flight, he came to the spot where
the holy Lucia was being tortured, and,
casting himself at her feet, related what he
saw, and asked for the cleansing of bap-
tism. There was at the same time a
priest named Pothasius, to whom an angel
appeared during the night, and desired
him to go to the prison and baptize Ger-
minianus, who wished that sacrament.
Awaking, he hastened to the prison and
poured over the holy man the saving
waters.

" After the third day Lucia is brought
before the judge, together with Germini-
anus, of whom he had heard. He tried
him with many fearful torments, and then
handed Lucia and Germinianus over to a
most impious judge to inflict on them any
torments that yet remained untried. He

492 The Victims of the Mamertine.

.first ordered their heads to be beaten with
sticks ; but immediately there came a ter-
rible earthquake, and the room of the tri-
bunal in which the judge sat fell to the
ground and killed the impious judge.

" The holy martyrs were then brought
before Aprofasius, under whom were put
to death seventy-five martyrs, who, having
seen the miracles the Lord worked in
these holy saints, believed. This wicked
judge, after having put these martyrs to
death, was himself cast by the devil from
the stone bridge into the river, and his
body was never found. Then blessed
Lucia and St. Germinianus were put to
death by the sword by a man of consular
dignity, named Megasius. A Christian
woman named Maxima collected and
buried their bodies in a becoming manner."

In reading these extraordinary Acts we
seem like one carried in a whirlwind over
scenes at one time the most beautiful and
at another the most terrible the imagina-
tion can fancy. Here tortures, conversions,
retributions, and miracles follow each other
as fast as words can utter them, like
quick waves that break on the beach,

Lucia.

493

If all that could be said of the martyrs
were written, those thrilling- records would
fill tomes that would reach to heaven,
whither their moral teaching leads us by
the quicker path of thought. We love to
cull flowers from these beautiful gardens
of virtue, and make them the links that
join Christianity of the present day with
the faith and trials of the past. The
prayers, the blood even, of Lucia, so
cruelly shed by her son, gained pity from
heaven on that unnatural son, and opened
his eyes to the enormity of his guilt and
the folly of his idolatry.

II.

nd
ma-
ns,
ler
ike

A MODERN MONICA.

The touching Acts of St. Lucia will
rouse sorrowful memories in many a ma-
ternal heart. The number of mothers who
have been ill-treated by ungrateful chil-
dren is legion ; but few, alas ! are the re-
cords of those whose patience and un-
ceasing tears have given a spiritual birth
to their erring children. Amongst some

494 '^^^^ Victims of the Mamertine.

consoling examples on the pages of mo-
dern history, we will cull one of thrilling
interest, which we give as a link between
the past and the present, and in the hope
that it may rouse to confidence the fading
prayer of many an anxious parent.

III.

A CERTAIN lady of noble fainHy, in the
North of Italy, was left a widow wiJi four
sons. She was a virtuous, good mother,
and spared no pains to bring up her chil-
dren in the fear of God. The three
eldest responded to her maternal anxie-
ties, were steady, obedient lads, and made
great proficiency in their studies ; but where
is the large family that has not its trouble
and its erring one ? The youngest was the
disgrace of the family in question. In
vain the good mother sought pious mas-
ters; in vain she punished, in vain she
lavished all the winning tenderness of
affectionate caress. The unfortunate lad
sought low company, kept late hours, and
shunned the chaste joys of the family cir::le.

Lucia,

495

The mother wept in solitude and prayed,
like another Monica, for her much-loved
but erring Austin. Only poor mothers who
have the misfortune to have bad sons can
tell the agony that seems at times to tear
asunder the tender fibres of the bleeding
heart. But confidence in God and hope
spread their timely balm over her wounded
spirit, and, rising from prayer, she would
say : . " Well, I know God will yet change
his heart."

Whilst thus in affliction it happened the
Emperor Ferdinand of Austria visited his
Lombardian possessions, and, to encourage
the fidelity of those subjects, offered to
take some of the children of the noble
families to his own college in Vienna,
where they would be prepared for their
position in the Noble Guard of the em-
pire. All who knew the afflicted Countess

of hurried with the information, as a

splendid occasion of disposing of her wild
son, especially as he showed a strong in-
clination to the military life. The good
mother thought otherwise. Once away
from her control and influence, God only
knew the lengths he would go in his ca-

49^ The Victims of the Mamertine.

reer of infamy. At length, persuaded by
all, and terrified by the threat of the prodi-
gal that he would leave the house and
bring disgrace on his family, as well as
ruin to himself, she consented. With
anxiety and prayers, in the midst of tears,
she committed her son to the Mother of
the afflicted. After Holy Communion on
the morning that, with the consent of her
spiritual director, she agreed to separate
from her son, she went to the altar of the
Blessed Virgin in the little church, and
prayed thus : " O Mother of the afflicted !
behold an unhappy mother who wishes to
transfer her maternal rights into your
hands. You must henceforth be the mo-
ther of this hapless son ; you must change
his heart and make him dread the awful judg-
ments of thy Son. And, oh! how pleased
should I be if, in my unworthiness, you
would deign to give me some sign that
you have accepted from me the burden I
am not able to bear." A sweet hope dif-
fused itself over her soul ; she felt a confi-
dence that her prayer was heard, and
found more cheerfulness of soul than she
had possessed for many years.

Lucia,

497

lore

The next day they were on the road
for Brescia. Different feelings animated
the mother and son — the mother pensive,
hopeful, and silent, repeating in her heart
the prayer she had already made before
the altar of Mary ; the son, in the bloom
of youth, painting on the canvas of a fervid
fancy scenes of glory on battle-fields, and
positions of honor and wealth in a suc-
cessful military career. The setting sun,
shrouded in luminous glory, was not more
brilliant than his golden dream of ambi-
tion. But he built his future destinies with-
out calculating the part God was to take
in them.

Arrived at Brescia, a strange circum-
stance happened which convinced the af*
flicted mother that the Blessed Virgin was
gained to sympathy towards her. Alight-
ing from the diligence, a strange woman
accosted the countess in these words:

" May you be a thousand times blest,
noble lady ! It has been the Mother of
God who has brought you amongst us to-
day. I come to you in the name of the

parish priest of , who has immediate

need of your assistance."

498 The Victims of the Mamertine,

** How ! What is the matter ? " enquired
the countess, reading truth and innocence
in the countenance of the young peasant
who addressed her.

"You must know," replied the stranger
with great earnestness, " there is here
a small church a long time abandoned.
Some persons of improper tendencies are
wishing to buy it to turn it into a theatre.
Our good priest is deeply afflicted. He has
been for some time gathering what little
alms he could to erect here a confraternity
of the Sacred Heart of Mary. To-day the
contract will be settled ; if he is not able
to pay the required sum, the church will be
a house of the devil instead of the house
of God and his holy Mother."

"Enough!" replied the generous coun-
tess. " You can tell your good pastor he
will find me at the hotel. I shall pay what
he requires." She well knew this demand
was not a mere human accident, since nei-
ther the priest nor the speaker was known
to her. The object of the charity so holy
and the honor of her much-beloved Queen
being in question, she did not hesitate a mo-
ment, but breathed in her heart the offering

Lucia

499

for the conversion of her son, which was
accepted before the throne of God.

Years have rolled on. The son has be-
come a man. The innate passions have
developed themselves in vices, and the
seed sown in youth is ripe with its bitter
fruit of infamy. Separation removed the
painful picture of actual guilt from the
eyes of the mother, and, in the fond hope
that her son had abandoned the follies of
youth and settled down to a more honor-
able career, she enjoyed comparative hap-
piness with her other sons, faithful and
dutiful children, her crown and her glory.

The sad year of 1848 dawned for Italy..
The powers of darkness were permitted to
stride the lovely plains and cities of that
ill-fated country ; to leave the traces of
their presence in the ruin of religion, mo-
rality, and the domestic union of thousands.
Amongst the infatuated sons of Brutus who
crossed the Alps to join in the plunder
of revolution was this ill-starred young

Count . He left the Noble Guard

of the Austrian court to mingle v-ith the
canaille of Rome, rejoicing with the impi-
ous at the triumph of the secret societies,

500 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the insult to religion in the banishment of
the Prpe, and the downfall of civil and
religious liberty in the Christian capital of
the world.

The dark night of the revolution passed,
and Pius IX. returned to his throne. The
cowardly leaders of the faction sneaked
away to pollute the air of other regions,
to plot the peace of other nations and the
downfall of other kings.

One day, at the close of those troublous

times, the young Count presented

himself at the house of his mother. Her
surprise, indignation, and grief can only
be imagined. She received him kindly, as
mothers are wont; but her tears flowed again
down their accustomed channels, and her
little oratory rung with the sobs of an af-
flicted heart. There are souls who weary
in prayer and abandon hope when the an-
swer is long delayed ; but the Countess

knew her prayer, her tears, would

one day bear for her the realization of the
consoling prophecy of Ambrose : " The
child of such tears cannot perish." liut
it was the will of God to let the folly of
her son be his punishment; that all the

Lucia,

501

deep, harrowing agonies of remorse should
tear his conscience with the acknowledg-
ment of guilt.

One day, soon after his return, he fell
into a quarrel with a German officer with
whom he had been drinking in one of the
cafes of the city. The gloves were thrown
across the table, and the friends parted to
meet on the morrow to end their quarrel
in a duel. He returned to his mother's
house. The veil of night that wrapped
the world in gloom was not darker than
the cloud that enveloped his soul. Silent
and frowning, he took his seat in the
family circle. The anxious parent, who
read disaster in his troubled looks, kindly
enquired if anything were wrong.

" Yes," replied the youth, feigning an in-
difference he did not feel — "yes; I have
just arranged to fight a duel with a Ger-
man officer to-morrqw morning."

If the fatal shot that was to send its
winged messenger of death to the heart
of her son had exploded at that moment
beside her, the countess could not be more
startled. Gathering all her indignation,
she poured forth an eloquent invective on

502 The Victims of the Mamertine,

the hardened youth. " Unfortunate son ! "
she cried, " did you not know that duel-
ling is forbidden by human and divine
law ? You care nothing for life, the sal-
vation of your soul, the honor of your
family, the tears and broken heart of
your poor mother ! "

She buried her face in her hands. A
dreadful silence hung over the mother
and son ; it was only broken by her con-
vulsive sobs. At length the young count
spoke in a low tone : " I place my honor
before everything."

"Honor!" replied his mother frantic-
ally. **'Tis a false suggestion of hell —
the phantom of your pride that allures
you to ruin ! Submission to the eternal
laws that guide us, resistance to the pas-
sions that ruin us, is the highest and only
honor. God forbid that such infamy
should taint the unsullied name of thy fa-
mily. Son ! see how you break this
heart that has loved you, disloyal and
disobedient as you have been. You know,
if my life could save you from your follies, I
Id have sacrificed it to save you ; but

wou
now

((

the last favor I will ask of

you

Lucia,

503

to spare me this blow. Fly, fly from this
house, this country, and seek to retrieve
thy lost character amongst a people who
know not thy infamy."

She left him in tears, and flew to her
own chamber. Suddenly returning, she
placed in his hand a purse full of gold,
and bade him leave the house. " Go, un-
grateful child ! and never let me see you
again, unless an altered man."

He rose widiout saying a word, and pro-
ceeded to the door. She followed in tears.
At the door he paused for a moment to
take a last long and affectionate look at
the mother he loved amidst all his fol-
lies. Whilst yet on the steps of the por-
tico she called him by his name, and said:
"The Immaculate Queen of Heaven shall
be henceforth your mother; do not forget
her." He had disappeared in the dark
street, .and the mother waited to hear the
last, faint echo of his quick step, as he
fled in disgrace from the happy home he
would never see again. .v.

He arrived in another part of Lombardy,
where he became the victim of the most
harrowing internal agony. Shame and re-

504 The Victims of the Mamertine.

morse followed him with persecution, and
his pride was wounded to the core. At
one moment he regretted his ignominious
flight. In fancy he heard the brave boast
of his antagonist in the cafes and at the
billiard- tables, and the scornful remarks of
his former lewd companions. Blasted in
every ambition, lost to his military honor
and cherished hopes, even his name and
nobility for ever abandoned, and before him
a life of obscurity and ignominy, we can
well fancy what spirit of comfort whisper-
ed it3 diabolical suggestions at this sad
hour. Is there not rest in the tomb ? Does
not death calm the throbbings of a break-
ing heart? He bravely resisted the dread-
ful thought for a while; but not seeking
assistance where alone it is to be found,
he gradually drifted into that melancholy
desperation which closes a career of crime
with the last and terrible guilt of suicide.

Still feebly combating with the python
that had coiled around his heart, he deter-
mined to take a voyage to th \ East, hop-
ing that the change of scenery and variety
of travel would bring the repose of forget-
fulness. He embarked on board a steamer

Lucia,

505

ion
ter-

met-
ier

at Venice and sailed for Constantinople.
The sea has no comfort for the soul pur-
sued by its own memories ; its troubled
surface, its wild, dreary v/aste of solitude,
and the mournful sound of the night
wind through the rigging, are echoes of
melancholy thought and incentives to
greater despair. It was so with the
young count. He determined to bury
beneath the dark wave the wreck of his
fallen manhood ; to end in some gloomy
cavern of the deep a career that had no
sunshine above. The fatal determination
once taken, he put it into execution in
sight of the city of Constantinople.

The dawn was breaking in the east
when the vessel cast anchor in the harbor.
The sailors heard a strange splash, but
could not determine, in the uncertain
light, what had fallen in. When daylight
came, the absence of the gloomy, solitary
passenger convinced them of his hapless end.
Not seeing any traces of his body on the
waters, they concluded that he had been de-
voured by the sharks that abound in those
seas. His fellow- passengers passed their
comments on his folly. Some pitied him as

* »

5o6' The Viciims of the i\famevtine,

the victim of misfortune, "others trembled
for the fate of his soul ; biit scarcely an
hour passed when the wonder was over.
The bustle and preparation for disembark-
ing occupied their attention, and no one
thought any longer of the stranger who
had committed suicide. But who will set
a limit to the mercy of God? Who will
explain the unsearchable ways of divine
Providence ? There were two afflicted
mothers pleading before the throne of God
for that young man. He was saved. At
the very moment that he intended to com-
mit suicide the Holy Sacrifice was offered
in the little Church of the Sacred Heart
of Mary at Brescia for the intention of

the Countess . It was, however, the

will of God to allow him to go thus far in
his folly, that the favor of his salvation
might be incontestably the work of prayer
— the prayer of the afflicted mother on
earth, the prayer of the powerful Mother
in heaven. The particulars of his miracu-
lous protection is given by the young man
himself, and sealed with his oath on his
death-bed. Hear his own description of
this extraordinary miracle:

Lucia*

•507

*' Plung"ed into the dark waters, I lieard
the wave close over me, and, instead of
repenting of my iniquity, I endeavored to
sink deeper into the gulf and end my«
wretched life, when, behold, I felt a strong,
robust hand push me again to the surface
to breathe the hated air. Determined to
die, I dived again into the water; but the
same hand sent me floating again to the
surface, as if saying to me, * You shall
not die.' Once more I plunged with all
my force into the dark waters, but that
friendly hand not only kept me from sink-
ing, but brought me, I know not how, in
the twinkling of an eye, to the shore. I
was stunned, and, although unable to ex-
plain what had happened, I heard in that
moment the howls of demons, I saw frightful
monsters, and felt as I never felt before.
On the beach I opened my eyes, and saw
not far from me a forest of ships, the
houses and domes of the city, and, mem-
ory returning, I remembered I was near
Constantinople. The desire of life re-
turned to me; but I felt so frightened and
so weak I could neither move nor call for
help. -In this plight, after a considerable

5o8 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

time, I saw some Turks coming towards
me ; they viewed me for a few moments,
but from my appearance and dress judged
, me to be a Christian, and, turning away
with suppressed contempt, said: 'He is some
Christiai. dog; let him die of his malady! '
How bitterly these words sounded in my
ears may be easily imagined — a dog, to
be left to perish without the least relief,
without a tear of compassion ; and if I am
a dog, who has saved me from drowning,
who has brought me to this beach? I
was thus thinking to myself when I heard
ringing through my memory the last
words of my mother, commanding me not
to forget the most holy Virgin. I then
did not doubt that she had saved me by
a miracle; but wherefore, I thought to
myself, if I am now to die amongst Turks
and worse than a beast? With agonizing
thoughts and full of repentance 1 turned
towards my heavenly Protector, recalling
the days when I prayed with fervor, and
cried out from the bottom of my heart,
* O most holy Virgin ! be my mother;
have compassion on me.' It was the first
prayer I had made in many years. ,

Lucia,

509

away
some
idy ! '
\ my
g. to
relief,
I am
rning,
I? I
heard
last
e not
then
e by
It to
urks
izing
rned
lling
and
leart,
ther;
first

"At a distance I perceived approaching
a man of venerable appearance, dressed in
a long garment and cowl, with the white
cord at his side. I recognized him imme-
diately as one of the Reformed Franciscan
Fathers. He approached me, and, casting
a compassionate look on me, asked me in
German whence I came, what had hap-
pened to me, and if he could help me. • I
understood him perfectly, but the confu-
sion of thoughts and the languor I felt
prevented me from answering distinctly.
He then spoke in French, and again the
good father thought I did not understand
him. Finally he spoke in Italian. The
sound of my mother-tongue seemed to
send a new thrill of life through me, and
I replied to him : * I come from Italy,
a fugitive from my country ; and I live
because I could not die.' Animated
with zeal at this reply, he anxiously en-
quired : ' From what part of Italy do you
come ? '

" * From Lombardy, father.*

" ' From Lombardy ! What city ? '

" ' The city of .'

" • If you will permit, may I ask of what

510 The Victims of the Mamertine,

family? Do you know the Countess of

? '

•

•• ' She is my mother.*

" At this reply the good religious threw
himself on me, embraced me, and wept.
Kneeling by me, he stretched his hands
to heaven, and said in amazement : * The
son of my benefactress in this plight I • I
thank divine Providence for casting into
my hands this man, that I may repay in
him the services rendered me by his
mother.'"

A few words of explanation followed.
This religious had spent much time in
Lombardy, and was well known to the

Countess , whose charity was felt in

a wide and grateful circle. The father
was called by his superior to one of the
Eastern missions, and was then but on
his journey, resting for a few days in the
city of Constantinople. The Countess of

had, but a few days before, given

him a large sum of money to procure
necessary comforts, on his long and fa-
tiguing journey. .

In joy that welled from a grateful heart
he lavished every attention on the unfor-

Lucia,

511

tunate young count. He had him brought
to the hospital of the Sisters of Charity ;
and, as he announced his name and title
as one of the Noble Guard of Vienna, the
Grand Seignior sent him eight soldiers as
a guard of honor. We need not tell the
happy conversion which the reader may
have already anticipated.. Oh ! that we
could have heard the joyful strains of the
heavenly choir when the powerful words
of absolution fell on that penitent, bleed-
ing, altered heart ! Tears like those that
moistened the hospital-bed of the dying
count were pearls gathered by angelic
hands to adorn the« penitent's crown.
The Franciscan father communicated the

whole adventure to the Countess .

Her joy at his . conversion was greater
than her grief at the announcement that
there was no hope of his recovery. She
sent two of her sons immediately to Con-
stantinople to console him in his last hour
and to bear to him her blessing and for-
giveness. They arrived in time to find
him sinking under a lingering fever. No
language could tell his joy on receiving the
message, or the gratitude his heart wished

512 The Victims of the Mamertine.

to send to his mother. One of his bro-
thers had to hasten back to Italy ; but the
other remained to receive his last sigh, and
saw him laid in the tomb he had once,
in the madness of desperation, *so foolishly-
desired. '"'

* Sec Civilth Cattolica, Vol. x. Scries 2 ; also a small work
published by Marictti. The names are supprcsseJ at the re-
quest of the mother, who is still living. The authenticity ot
this interesting fact is beyond question, and may be had from
the directors of the Civilth Caltolica.

CHAPTER XVII.

CYRIACUS.

LARGE number of the bricks
used in the Baths of Diocle-
tian are marked with the sio-n
of the cross. Is it the trade- mark of
some wealthy merchant who supplied mil-
lions of those tiles for the vast ther-
mal fabric? Is it a sign by which the
master-masons should determine their posi-
tion in the ' building ? No ; it is the
sacred memorial of the sorrows and
hopes of an affectionate people ; it is
a Christian sign traced by Christian
hands.

Reader, wrap your cloak around you
and follow us in fancy as Dante followed
Virgil ; we will bring you to contemplate
a sad but interesting- scene in the his-

514 The Victims of ihe Mamertine.

tory of the past. Trust to the borrowed
wings of fancy, and leap over a gulf of
fifteen centuries, without pausing to con-
sider the rise and fall of nations, the
records of bloody wars, and the ever-
varying vicissitudes of time heaped into
the valley of the past. We find ourselves
in Rome at the end of the third cen-
tury. On a level site between tne Vimi-
nal and Quirinal Hills a stupendous edi-
fice is rising towards heaven in costly
magnificence. It covers one hundred and
fifty thousand sv-|uare yards, and has forty
thousand laborers employed. Amidst the
buzz and din of work you hear the loud,
coarse voice of the overseers, and perhaps
the ringing lash of the whip goading on
the poor slaves to work more than they
are able. See those poor laborers ! Many
are clothed in a faded and torn military
dress ; a calm melancholy hangs over
their emaciated looks, and many a red,
glistening eye tells a tale of constant
tears. You hear the audible murmur of
verses from the well-known Psalms of
David, now and then hushed as the over-
seer approaches. The young help the aged

Cyriacus,

515

■who tremble and sink ander their bur-
dens. There are no blasphemies against
heaven, no imprecations on the inhuman
task-masters ; the silence of the deep
broods over the moving mass. These
laborers are Christians !

In the year 302 Maxim ian returned
from a successful campaign against the
Persians. In the army there were many
Christians, especially in one of the le-
gions from Spain, recalled for this spe-
cial expedition. Under the direction and
influence of the tribune Zeno thousands
of the veteran soldiers were brought to the
worship of the true God. When the pre-
occupation and horrors of war had ceased,
the demons found employment for the
time of peace in firing the brutal pas-
sions of the Emperor Maximian. The
persecution was renewed with all its vio-
lence ; for more blood was required to
nourish the roots of the infant Church.
In a species of gratitude to Diocletian,
who raised him to the purple, this tyrant
conceived the idea of erecting in his ho-,
nor the largest and richest thermae ever
built in Rome. The Christirns were con

5 1 6 The Victims of the Maimrtine,

demned to be the slaves and convicts of
the labor. The heroes of the army, in-
stead of rest after the fatigues of the
campaign, and a share in the spoils of
the enemy, were the first victims ; wher-
ever the followers of the Crucified could
be found throughout the empire, irre-
spective of position or wealth, they were
driven, by treatment given only to slaves
in those days, to assist in the erection of
this stupendous monument of imperial ex-
travagance. On the authority of several
Acts (quoted by Baronius) we believe the
number exceeded four thousand.

What must have been the sufferings of
those poor Christians no pen can de-
scribe. Death would have been a thou-
sand times more welcome than those long,
lingering years of hardship and privation.
The axe, the rack, or the furnace had but
momentary pangs, and then came eternal
rest ; but here, worse than death, was the
bitter agony of prolonged suffering. There
were amongst these poor Christians the
wealthy, the educated, and the offspring of
patrician blood, dragged from comfortable
homes and the bosoms of their families,

riacus.

517

clothed in tattered and filthy garments, and
made to mix the mortar for the masons, to
shape bricks, or to carry sand on their
shoulders to the top of the scaffolding ;
and when, through delicacy of limbs or
weakness, or through want of food, they
would fall under their load, they were-
kicked and beaten like poor, ill-treated
beasts of burden, until they would rise
and try again. Do we wonder that the
bricks of this fabric are marked with the
sign of the cross? It was the only con-
solation and hope of those suffering Chris-
tians. If tears were indelible, we would
see those crosses surrounded by the crystal
stars that flow in tepid drops from the
fountains of human sorrow.

Seven long years passed over those suf-
ferers. Nearly thirty thousand found re-
lief in the bosom of God. They were
carried to the sepulchres of slaves or
stolen away by the Christians. The
Church, who honors them in heaven on
the feast of All Saints, has not even a
name or a relic of those who died for the
faith during the building of the Baths of
Diocletian. The survivors numbered ten

5i8 The Victims of the Mamertine.

thousand two hundred and three. Per-
haps these hard-worked and heart-broken
laborers are rewarded from the pubHc
treasury and sent to their homes, browned
by the sun and enfeebled by years of toil,
yet happy in the recovery of libert}'. Yes,
they will be sent to their eternal home
under the blood-stained sword of martyr-
dom ; their reward awaits them beyond
the stars. The Acts tell us they were led
out of the city in company with the brave
tribune Zeno, and at the Aquas Salvias,
near the spot where St. Paul was behead-
ed, were executed in one day.

Ten thousand three > hundred and one
martyrs put to death in the one place
and in the space of a few hours ! How
this announcement falls on us like the
child's first view of the ocean or the tra-
veller's first look at Niagara ! We are
struck with silent awe ; no words could
convey our thoughts. Our souls soar like
terrified spirits over the field of carnage.
Rome has sent forth her stalwart sons to
battle. No enemy is in sight; no power-
ful nation has thrown down the gauntlet ;
no plundering army is on the march to the

Cyriacus,

519

capital ; yet there is the yoodiest field in
the annals of Rome. Patient, unresisting,
they are led to death like the typical ani-
mal that goes to slaughter in silence.

We must return to the Baths of Diocle-
tian. There are still other interesting
reminiscences around this monument of
the past. Its career of licentious pleasure
was short-lived ; it was rifled before the
touch of time had crumbled its massive
walls; it fell with the giant spirit of ty-
ranny and paganism that caused its foun-
dations to be cemented with the tears of
the Christians. Yet these ruins were dear
to the angels. Forty thousand of them
were employed here, more or less, for
seven years, recording in the brilliant
pages of the book of eternal life the acts
of patience, resignation, and union with
Jesus in his Passion merited by the poor
Christians who labored at this edifice.
These angels watched the ruins with all
the solicitude of affectionate memory ; they
love as we do the things that give glory
to God. Away in their arbors of eternal
bliss they resolved to have these ruins
converted into a church dedicated to their

520 The Victims of the Mamertine.

Queen. They deputed their seven chiefs
to see the project carried out, and behold
how God permitted their designs to be
accompHshed.

About the close of the fifteenth centurv
tuere was a pious priest in the city of Pa-
lermo named Antonio di Duca, who had
an extraordinary devotion towards the holy
angels. He labored hard to spread this
beautiful devotion amongst his people. In
Sicily churches were built and confraterni-
ties established in honor of those glorious
spirits, so dear to God and so powerful
by his throne. Miracles and extraordi-
nary graces attended the preaching of this
holy priest, thereby showing the manifest
approbation of God, who will hav^e us
honor those whom he himself has so
highly honored.

It is said in the life of this servant of
God that, in reward for his devotion
towards the holy angels, one day he found
a picture of the seven archangels miracu-
lously painted on the walls of his room,
which painting is still preserved with
great reverence and devotion in the city
of Palermo. After the celebration of Mass

Cyriacus,

521

one day he had a consoling vision. He
was told to repair to Rome, to receive the
approbation and indulgences of the Holy
See for the confraternities he had estab-
lished, to spread the devo<-ion in that city,
and to have the ruins 'of the Baths of
Diocletian converted into a church under
the invocation of the Queen of Angels.
The Ven. Antonio hastened to the capi-
tal of the Christian* world, and was re-
ceived in affection and honor by Paul 1 11^
The good priest endeavored to have the
ruins of the Baths converted into a church ;
but several architects, having studied the
walls and halls as they stood, abandoned
the project as too difficult. The central
hall or triclinium ot the ruins was still in
a perfect state of preservation, but was
too large for the proposed church, and
would involve more expense than was at
command. Antonio di Duca had to aban-
don the idea in deep regret, and returned
to his people in Palermo.

Some years passed. The holy priest,
now old and feeble, was sinking to the
grave. One thought gave him deep re-
s^ret: the church was not yet built in

52 2 The Victims of the Mainertine,

the ruins of the Baths of Diocletian. Fer-
vently he prayed to God that he might have
this favor before closing his eyes on the
scenes of earth. Behold ! his prayer was
heard, and one of the messengers of hea-
ven stood in dazzling brightness beside
him. The angel brought him in spirit to
the ruins, and showed him the Church of
St. Maria degli Angioli, as it now stands.
He bade the old man repair once more
to Rome, and he v/ould find little diffi-
culty in accomplishing the desired change.
The holy Pontiff Pius IV. was in the chair
of St. Peter. He heard the extraordinary
statement. The great Michael Angelo was
in the court. He was sent for by the
Pope, and requested to accompany the
venerable priest to the ruins. The bril-
liant genius of the immortal artist caught
the idea suggested by the celestial Angelo,
and behold we have one of the state-
liest and most strikinof churches of Rome,
unique and splendid in its stately pro-
portions, retaining the magnificence and
grandeur of the ancient thermal edifice to
lend becoming majesty to the temple of
the Most High. It was consecrated by

Cyriacus.

523

Pius IV. in 1563, amidst the joy of a
pious people, whose hymns and canticles
of praise, chanted in the majestic ceremo-
nial of dedication, were but the faint echo
of the choirs of millions of rejoicing angels
led on by their immaculate Queen in the
regions of bliss, singing their grateful Te
Deunis around the throne of the Eternal.

II.

Amongst the poor, suffering Christians
at the Baths of Diocletian is cast the
scene of some of the extraordinary facts
we have to relate. As the laborers suf-
fered from want of food, Cyriacus, who es-
caped detection, brought food and other
comforts to them under the shadows of
night. Here he was seized and brought be-
fore the emperor ; but before we enter into
the interesting particulars of his martyrdom
we will give an outline of his early history.

In a MS. preserved in the Vatican, and
quoted by the Bollandists, we have some
particulars of the early history and con-
version of St. Cyriacus. It is evidently
written by an inexperienced hand, and has

524 The Victims of the Mamertine.

many inconsistencies as to names and
dates, * as the learned Jesuit Cupor shows
in his introduction to these Acts ; never-
theless, it contains some very interesting
facts, and will serve to show the reverence
and honor towards this great martyr. We
will give a few of its anecdotes, especially
those Avhich regard his relics and the ori-
gin of the Church of St. Marcellus on
the Corso.

It seems that St. Cyriacus was^a man
of great learning. He was what the peo-
ple of those times called a philosopher.
Being of noble birth and undoubted abili-
ty, he was invited to the imperial palace
by Diocletian and Maximian. He Avon
the esteem of these emperors, and be-
came the greatest favorite at the court.
From the light of reason he saw that
paganism, with its magnificent temples,
and priests, and sacrifices, was nothing
but a gigantic swindle. Assisting on one
occasion at a sacrifice in honor of Mars,
he was so disgusted that he left the
temple with the intention of becoming a
Christian. All that day and the whole of
the next night were spent by him in great

Cy viae us.

525

anxiety and thought. We may say he
suffered the usual struggle which the con-
verted soul has with the devil and its own
passions against the calls and prompt-
ings of divine grace. Alas ! many yield
in this struggle and give hell a victory;
the grace of conversion, perhaps, never re-
turns. There are many souls in hell now
who were once destined and called to
high positions of glory. Cyriacus did
not yield in this combat. At daylight the
next morning he leaped from his couch,
bade farewell to the vanities and luxuries
of the imperial palace, and sought the
house of some Christians in the city.

By divine inspiration he was guided to
a house where the Christians were assem-
bled. The doors were closed, but he could
hear them singing within. It happened
that the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass had
at that moment commenced, and the choir
of the little band of Christians was sing-
ing some selections from the Psalms or
other sacred pieces. He paused and lis-
tened at the door. There was a sermon.
The words of the preacher struck him as
if intended for himself. The text was,

526 The Victims of the Mamertine.

*' He that followeth me walkcth not in
darkness." The moment the sermon was
over he rapped at the door. When they
saw him, they were terrified, for they icnew
him to be one of the satelHtes of the ty-
rant Diocletian, and commenced immedi-
ately to prepare for martyrdom, which
every Christian was momentarily expect-
ing in those days of terror. But Cyriacus
made known the object of his visit; they
received him with joy, and continued the
celebration of the divine mysteries. When
Mass was over, he was sent with three
deacons, Sinsinius, Smaragdus, and Lar-
gus, to the holy Pope Caius, who was al-
ready informed by an angel that God had
made Cyriacus a vessel of election. His
baptism ' was followed by the liberty of
some hundreds of slaves, the distribution
of wealth to the poor, and the great joy
of the Christians for the conversion of
such a learned and wealthy man.

Nearly twenty years rolled over from
the baptism of Cyriacus to the building
of the Baths of Diocletian, where we next
find our saint mentioned in the Acts. He
spent that time in the practice of every

Cyriacus.

527

virtue. So orenerously did he give himself
to the service of God that he was selected
by Provideixe to be one of the apostles
and pillars of the infant Church in those
terrible days of trial. Once a weaUhy,
powerful patrician, gifted with the know-
ledge of the schools of those days, we find
him now, in all the attractive lowliness of
Christian humility, carrying bread on his
shoulders to relieve his famished and suf-
fering brethren at the Baths. A wealthy
convert named Thrason supplied rrc^ans to
purchase those necessaries for the poor
Christians, and entrusted to Cyriacus and
his companions, Largus and Smaragdus,
the conveyance and dispensing of those
welcome aids. In the darkness of the
night, when all was still, those brave souls
crept in the shadows of the walls and got
in amongst the Christians, who lay to-
gether on the cold earth, exposed to the
sharp winter blast and prostrate with hun-
ger and fatigue. How welcome were the
visits of those angels ot charity ! The
kind, consoling words of the aged Cyri-
acus and his companions fell like balm on
their breaking hearts.

528 The Victivis of the Ma-niertine.

Cvriaciis was the means of bringing still
greater joy to those Christians ; for the
holy Pope Marcellus, hearing of his cha-
rity, ordained him a deacon, that he might
bring to them not only the welcome suste-
nance for the weakened frame of hurran-
ity, but also the spiritual food of their
souls in the dread mysteries of the altar.

The emperor and the rulers of Rome
looked down with contempt from the pride
of their power and their palaces of gold
on the poor Christian slave ; but He who
alone is great, at whose beck the pillars
of heaven tremble, around whom myriad
worlds whirl in unbroken harmony, comes
from the throne of his glory to console
him ! Whilst he prepares the thunders
of a dreadful retribution for the cruel, un-
believing man of power and wealth, he
comes to the poor, forsaken victim of in-
justice, whose bed is the earth covered
with straw, wliose pillow is a hard board,
and whose covering is a sackcloth. To
him Jesus imparts a flood of consolation
and joy ; for the loving heart of Jesus is
moved to pity and compassion when other
hearts are harder than stones.

Cyriacus.

529

Thufi Cyriacus spent some years in this
holy employment. There is a tradition
(not mentioned in the Acts) that, during
this time, he converted the architect who
directed the erection of this vast edifice.
But it pleased God to try and still further
purify these holy servants by casting them
into the hands of their enemies, and thus
■ to prepare the way for the manifestation
of his power and the confusion of the
haughty persecutors of the Church.

One night, when, as usual, they were
bringing food to the Christians, they were
discovered by the guards and seized. The
next day they were cast into the publiq
prison, and on the third day afterwards
the tribune reported the circumstance tc
Maximian. He ordered them to dig sand
in one of the sand-pits, and then bring it
on their shoulders to the Baths. There was
amongst them a feeble old man named Sa-
turninus, whom old age had rendered unfit
for labor. The holy deacons Cyriacus and
Sinsinius assisted him, and others who also
required assistance:, by carrying their bur-
dens along with their own. The poor pa-
gans, who knew nothing of the sublime

530 The Victims of the Mamertine.

principle of Christian charity, marvelled at
the goodness of those holy deacons, and
related what they saw to the emperor.
They reported at the same time that
these Christians seemed to be quite hap-
py, and w^ere singing praises and hymns
the whole day. Maximian then ordered
Sinsinius to be brought before him.

" How are you called ? " asked the em-
peror. '

Sinsinius replied: "I am the sinner Sin-
sinius, and I am called the servant of the
servants of Christ."

" What are those songs you have among
you ? "

Sinsinius replied : "If you knew the
hymns of the faithful, you would also
know your Creator."

" And who is the Creator but the in-
vincible Hercules?"

" With us it is wrong even to name
him or to hear of him," replied Sinsinius
firmly.

Maximian then said : " Hasten and
choose one of the two : either sacrifice
to Hercules or undergo the burning of
your flesh."

Cyriacus,

531

" I have alvva) s desired this," replied
Sinsinius. *' Oh ! that I were worthy of
such a long-wished-for crown."

Then Maximian, angry, handed him over
to Laodicius, the prefect, who had him cast
into the Mamertine prison, where he was
detained seventeen days.

At this time there was in care of the
Mamertine a well-meaning man named
Apronianus. We doubt not that he was*
in frequent conversation with the martyrs
under his care, and, perhaps for some
kindness which he showed them, Almighty
God was pleased with him, and called him
to the knowledge of the faith by a great
miracle. Laodicius, the prefect, wished to
have the martyrs brought before him; and
when Apronianus came to the opening
through which his wretched victims were
cast into their dungeon, he was dazzled
with a brilliant column of light that came
from the prison where the martyrs were
confined, whilst, terrified and fixed to the
ground at this strange appearance, he
heard a voice overhead saying : " Come,
ye blessed of my Father, and take pos-
session of the kingdom prepared for you."

532 The Victims of the Mantertine,

All was again darkness ; but that heavenly
light remained in the soul of Apronianus.
Casting himself at the feet of his prison-
ers, he asked to be allowed to accompany
them to the kingdom prepared for them
above. There and then, in the gloomy
chamber of their prison, and probably from
the miraculous well of St. Peter, they bap-
tized Apronianus. The holy Pope Mar-
"cellus was sent for; he came and confirm-
ed the neophyte, and the Acts say that he
consecrated an altar and administered to
them all the body and blood of Christ.

Towards evening the prefect, wonder-
ing, perhaps, why his orders were not
obeyed, sent again to the prison to have
Sinsinius and Saturninus brought before
him. Apronianus, now filled with the for-
titude of the Holy Spirit, and burning
with the zeal of his first fervor, accom-
panied them to the prefect. Immediately he
had come into his presence he cried out :

** Why let the devil induce you to afflict
so much those servants of God?"

** How ! do I also see that you have be-
come a Christian?" said Laodicius, sur-
prised.

, ^

Cyriacus,

533

Apronianus replied with a sigh, "Alas!
unfortunate 1 have been. I have lost my
days."

"Indeed you will lose them now," said
the prefect; and immediately ordered him
to be beheaded, saying, "If this man be not
put out of the way, many will be ruined."

Apronianus was conducted to the second
milestone on the Via Salaria, and received
the crown of martyrdom.

All this seems' to have taken place in
the space of a few hours. In the morn-
ing this noble martyr walked 'in the dark-
ness of the shadow of death, and in the
evening he stood amidst the galaxy of
heaven's spirits in the sunshine of eternal
glor3^ Such sudden calls of grace and
such heroic correspondence are miracles of
the mercy and goodness of God. In clos-
ing this martyrdom as briefly as the Acts
describe it we cannot but notice two
things: first, that it is a fortunate thing
to deal with true servants of Jesus Christ;
and, second, we should never despise any
one, for the person whom we despise may
be pleasing to God and may be sent be-
fore us to the glory of heaven.

534 ^-^^ Victims of tJu Mamertine,

After tills martyrdom the Acts tell us
that the aged Saturr/inus and Sinsinius
were again cast into prison, and detained
there fort^ -two days. During that time
they converted and baptized a great num-
ber of pagans. The very prison itself be-
came the rendezvous of the persecuted
Christians", and from those dungeons of
horror, darkness, and privation there came
light, consolation, and heavenly gifts. The
ways of God are different from those of
men.

Once more brought before Laodicius,
they boldly declared they would never
humble themselves to demons and stones ;
and here Almighty God rewarded dieir
fidelity with other extraordinary additions
to the harvest of souls they had already
gathered to Christ. The prefect ordered
a tripod to be broughc in, that they might
burn incense to thn goddess of the earth,
in whose temple he had his throne erected
for the judgment of the martyrs. The
aged Saturninus breathed en the tripod
and said, " May the God of nations de-
stroy thee!" Immedic^tely it broke into so
many pieces that nothing but dust fell to

Cyriacus.

535

the ground. Seeing this miracle, two sol-
diers who were guarding the martyrs cried
out: "Truly he is God, the Lord Jesus
Christ whom these worship."

This was the signal for the scene of
torture. The two soldiers, Papias and
Maurus, were stretched on the rack and
beaten with clubs. They gave thanks to
God that he permitted them to suffer with
his servants; and when they bravely re-
proved the tyranny of the judge for perse-
cuting the innocent Christians, he ordered
their mouths to be beaten' with stones.
Taken from the rack, he' had them cast
into prison, and then turned to vent his
rage on Saturninus and Sinsinius. They
were stripped, suspended from a post, and
burning torches were applied to their
sides. Their trials were ended by decapi-
tation at the second milestone on the
Nomentan Way, and their bodies were
buried by the priest John and the good
Thrason, who had supplied food for the
poor Christians at the Baths.

The two soldiers were afterwards in-
structed and baptized in prison by the
Pope Marcell s, and after twelve days

53 6 The Victims of the Mavtertine,

were beaten to death. They were buried
on. the Nomentan Way, in the crypts call-
ed ad Nymphas S* Petri,

III.

In the meantime the holy deacon Cyria-
ciis was laboring in the sand-pits on the
Salarian Way. The place may still be
seen adjoining the Catacombs of Thrason.
The great ones of this world are clothed
in purple and live in the palaces of kings,
but the truly great before God are the
poor and despised before the world, as the
touching sequel of this story beautifully
illustrates.

The Spirit of God cast a halo of sanc-
tity around his servant. Destined by
Providence for the salvation of many, he
was soon discovered in his humble labors
in the sand-pit His fame had spread
amongst the poor. He was the consola-
tion and encouragement, not only of the
two companions, Smaragdus and Largus,
whom God left always near him, but of
all those who were condemned to the
same pit. What lessons we must learn

Cyriacus,

537

when in fancy we see this aged man
laying down a sack of sand from his
shoulders to give sight to some poor, blind
creature; leaving his shovel against the
bank to cure a palsy or paralyzed limb!
In the garb of a slave and a criminal,
condemned unjustly for bringing bread to
the poor Christians, to labor like a con-
vict in the public works, yet here was
the favorite of the Most High; here was
the humble soul more pleasing to God
than the kings and princes who were ty-
rants and monsters in the little power
given to them.

Two years, probably, were spent by
Cyriacus at the sand-pits. The emperor
had forgotten him, but Almighty God had
not, and the time had come when Provi-
dence had arranged that Cyriacus should
work greater wonders and gather more
souls to the love of God. A devii was
permitted to take possession of the adopt-
ed daugfhter of Diocletian. Her name was
Artemia. The emperor loved her very'
much, and was deeply affected when he
found that all the skill of physicians and all
the sacrifices to gods, that were as dumb

538 The Victims of the Mamertine,

as the stones that represented them,
availed nothing. The girl was dreadfully
tortured; her shrieks and contortions
would move the hardest heart to pity.
At length the devil was obliged by God
to declare that only Cyriacus could drive
him from the person of Artemia. " I will
not leave unless Cyriacus the deacon
drive me."

In the stronger passion of affection
Diocletian smothered the feelings of
hatred. The impiety that dictated and en-
couraged the carnage of the noble blood
at that moment shed in every province of
the empife was forgotten in the selfish
hope of an advantage to be gained from
one of the persecuted sect Cyriacus was
summoned from his prison, from his chains,
and from obscurity to tread again in
honor the marble halls of the imperial
palace. In years gone by, in the days of
his vanity and pride, Cyriacus was a wel-
come guest even in the triclinium of Dio-
cletian ; but now, gifted with a sublimer
science than was ever known in the folly
of paganism, venerable in his appearance,
and sanctified by penitential austerities, he

Cyriacus,

539

appears at the royal palace as a messen-
ger from the other world to combat the
powers of darkness in one of their earthly
strongholds. On his entering the room of
the afflicted Artemia the devil trembled and
showed in her person the terror the demons
must feel at the name of Jesus. "My daugh-
ter," said Cyriacus gently, " believe in
God the Father Almighty, Creator of
heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, his
only Son." Poor Artemia, who was un-
able to speak, nodded assent; but the foul
spirit cried out, " O Cyriacus ! if you drive
me out of this, I will bring you all the
way to Persia." The command was given
in the name of Jesus. The girl gave a
fearful contortion and a yell of anguish.
She was free. She looked up with a smile
of gratitude, and with tears of joy em-
braced her relatives who stood around.
Casting herself at the feet of her liberator,
she prayed to be baptized in that sacred
name which had drawn her from the grasp
of the infernal fiend. In a few days our
saint poured the holy waters of baptism on
Artemia and her mother, Serena.

Perhaps the most remarkable event in

540 The Victims of the Mamer tine.

the reign of Diocletian or in the Acts
of Cyriacus was the effect of this mira-
cle. To other emperors, as we have
seen elsewhere, similar favors have been
granted through the servants of God; but
they attributed everything to the power
of magic, and, instead of recognizing the
power of the Christian God, they became
more enraged towards their benefactors.
Gratitude was a virtue little known
amongst the pagans. But to th6 credit
of a tyrant second only to Nero, we have
to record that Diocletian was grateful on
this occasion. The Acts do not say it,
but his subsequent conduct towards the
martyrs proves it. He did not order the
lictors to bind Cyriacus because he was a
jrnagician, and cast him to the lions of the
Coliseum, as we read of emperors who
bear better names than Diocletian. At
the imperial order a magnificent house
was given to Cyriacus and his compan-
ions ; freedom, the royal favor, and a
maintenance from the treasury were con-
ferred on him. A stranger contrast could
not be imagined. The v'orld was groan-

. Cyrtacus.

541

ing from East to West under the tyranny
of this reign. Christian blood was flow-
ing in copious streams in every city of
the empire, and all the efforts of the
supreme power were directed to annihilate
Christianity. Yet the full fury of the
storm had not come, and the prosperity
of Cyriacus was but an isolated sunbeam.
It would seem that God permitted the pros-
perity of Cyriacus, that he might bring
consolation to the suffering Christians at
the Baths. Fortified with the royal per-
mission, he had free access. to those hapless
victims of Maximian s tyranny, and he was
their angel of consolation. It is probable
that during this time he converted the archi-
tect of the Baths; and thus, if the tradition
be true, they were Christian architects
■who designed the two most remarkable
buildings connected with the persecution
of Christianity — the Coliseum and the
Badis of Diocletian.

Cyriacus knew well the danger as well
as the short-lived character of his prosper-
ous condition. The science of the saints
had long warned him of the snares of

542 The Victims of the Mamertine.

evil, and even the judgment of God, that
is too often concealed beneath the smiles
of fortune

" With such unshaken temper of the soul
To bear the swelling- tide of prosp'rous fortune
Is to deserve that fortune. In adversity
The mind grows rough by buffeting the tempest;
But in success, dissolving, sinks to ease
And loses all her firmness."

Would that the useful lesson given us
by the early Christians in their fears of
woildly prosperity were more impressed on
the minds of the Christians of these days !
The truly humble* soul, filled with the Spirit
of God, is seldom found amidst wealth and
luxury. It is amidst the horrors of war
and the ravages of an epidemic that the
churches empty in the time of peace, are
filled with the groans and sighs of an
afflicted people supplicating the mercy of
God. In peace, in prosperity, he is for-
gotten. The thunders of his wrath are
not feared until they roar in terror above

us.

The great apostles of evangelical per-
fection, the founders of religious orders,
prayed to God for some mark of his ap-

Cyriacus,

543

probation. He heard their prayer and
placed their communities, like his rock-
built church, in the heart of the storm,
the target for every outrage the spirit of
the world and hell can cast on them.
The smile of his approving providence
found its expression in humiliation, con-
fiscation, and exile. Strange mystery ! All
that is evil in the hostility of the impious
is the blessing of God to the good.
Thus the injuries inflicted on us by
the persecutors of our faith, to the seiz-
ure of our goods and the shedding of
our blood, are the blessings that mark
the highest approbation of our God.
Stranger still the awful judgment that is
found in prosperity. Whom God loves
he tries. We tremble at the application
of the contrary proposition. There are
men, successful in every undertaking, rich
in everything the world loves, wealth pour-
ing in on them from every side; the very
failures of the land and the disasters of
the sea are the sources of gain to them ;
yet these men oppress the poor, ridicule the
sacred, and indulge in the sensual. Their
prosperity is their judgment. Some good

544 -^^^ Victims of the Mamertine,

action in more virtuous days, some natural
quality seen by the Searcher of hearts,
who gives each one his due, find their
recompense in the short-lived joys of
time. But woe to the recipients of such
favors ; thev have received their reward.
How this terrible warning must ring in
the ears of the rich, like the mournful
whoop of the ill-omened night-owl from
the house-tops and summits of these pa-
laces, which have been cemented in the
blood, the tears, and the possessions of the
innocent, crying out incessantly: "Woe!
woe ! "

It is related of St. Ambrose that*when
going to Rome, accompanied by some
priests of Milan, extraordinary atmosphe-
ric appearances terrified him while on
his journey, and forced him to accept
hospitality frorii the possessor of a castle
on the way. When seated at table with
his host, to whom he had been casually
introduced, he perceived he was a man
who had amassed wealth by all kinds of
exactions, frauds, and injustices. Elated
with prosperity, this man boasted that he
had never experienced either mtntal or cor-

Cyriacus,

545

poral suffering; his fortune was great, his
wife beautiful, and his children healthy and
robust. While listening to him St. Ambrose
was at first sorrowful and surprised on
beholding iniquity so shamelessly avowed ;
but his astonishment soon gave way to
fear. "Let us go hence," said he, as he
hastily quitted the splendid repast which
had just been served — ''let us go hencei
brethren; the prosperity of this man makes
me fear. Something tells me its end is
nigh." The prelate's attendants, seized
with consternation, hastily mounted their
horses, and, notwithstanding the dense and
suffocating atmosphere, immediatel.' re-
sumed their journey. They had not pro-
ceeded above a quarter of a mile when a
violent earthquake was felt. The Milan-
ese who followed the archbishop, when the
first fear was passed, looked behind them
to see the effects of this terrific commo-
tion. What was their surprise on seeing
that the magnificent villa they had. just
quitted had completely disappeared, that
its place was occupied by a miry pool,
and that the earth had stifled the groans
of its wretched inhabitants.

546 The Victims of the Mamertine,

There is another circumstance connected
with the prosperity of the Christian, an-
other great truth inculcated in the heroic
life of Cyriacus, which must come home
to many of our EngHsh readers. In the
time of Jeremias the idolaters of Judea
offered gifts on the roofs of their houses
to the queen of the night — the Phoeni-
cian Astarte. They attributed the triumph
of the Assyrians to these idolatrous prac-
tices. When the indignant prophet re-
proved them for their folly, they bvoldly
answered that since tliey had ceasec. to
worship that divinity they had experienced
the want of all things : " From the time
we ceased to sacrifice and offer libations
to the queen of heaven we have wanted
all things, and are consumed by the sword
and hunger." *

Behold a faith that seeks temporal re-
ward ! Behold a regret that may find an
echo in many a discontented heart ! Those
Jews thought that when they consented
to burn a few grains of incense in honor
of God, each grain should come back
with weak', more than a hundred-fold

* Jer. xliv. i8.

Cyriacus.

547

The faith that lives on gain is blasted
with the first breath of adversity. It is
the house built on the sandy beach, that
totters under the wave of the returning
tide that rolls against it. How often has
not the fear of temporal loss warped the
generous resolve in I'le half-converted
heart, and bartered for a paltry temporal
gain the hope of eternal joy ! To be-
come a Christian is to prepare for every
alternative — death, poverty, and the ridi-
cule of unbelieving friends. Such was
the example given us by the martyrs.
Amongst the pagans of old there were
brave men who declared themselves Chris-
tians under the very sword that was
reeking with Christian blood; others leap-
ed into the arena of the Coliseum, where
thousands of an infuriated mob were calling
to have them cast to the lions; and others
embraced the faith whilst the rack that
was dislocating the bones of the Chris-
tian victims was creaking in their ears.
In the conversion to Christianity in the
early days there was no sordid considera-
tion of temporal consequences. In those
days faith was noble, brave, divine. It was

548 The Victims of the Mamertive,

not the cunning compliance of a hypo ite
to unloosen the purse-strings of a Chris-
tian father-in-law; it was not a spe< .la-
tion for a finer house or richer sabry, nor
" et to cnbrare a life of ease and in-
dulge the wiles of disordered passion.
Ciiristianity was synonymous with con-
tempi., poverty, and humility. The disciple
was to be like the divine Master 1 Oh !
that we could shed tears of blood o/er
the sad cowardice of thousands ' of the
hapless victims of heresy who are sepa-
rated from the Church of the martyrs ;
who, though convinced of error, sacrifice
heaven to fear, to avarice, and to pride.
Hapless victims of insensate folly ! they
seem to have found an answer to the
terrible question of oui biecsed Lord:
** What will it profit a man to gain the
whole world and lose his own soul?"

Cyriacus was permitted by God to
break awhile the repose of his : ;incely
dwelling for the fatigues of a long and
perilous journey. The devil, strange to
say, was true to his word, and made Cyri-
acus go all the way to Persia.*

* Although we give the strange adventure as recorded in

Cyriactis,

549

One morning a deputation came to tl "'.
court '<ji Rome requesting Diocletian thai
the deacon Cyriacus should be sent to
cast out the devil from the king's daugh-
ter. The request was granted. Cyriacus,
with his two companions, Smaragdus and
Largus, undertook this charitable work
for the greater glory o God, We
have no details of th:V. loiig and peril-
ous journey; but the sei unts of God are
happy everywhere. 1 ni'^tters not whether
they are in a dungeon like the Mamertine,
or pillowing their heads on the cold stone
in the desert, under the canopy of heaven.
Weeks and months of privation and of fa-
tigue were but precious moments in which
imperishable riches were gathered for the
great and eternal day of repose. Arrived

the Acts, yet we must observe that there is evidently a mistake
or interpolation in the word Persia. The Acts say the
daughter Jobia of Sapor, King of Persia, was possessed.
This could not be, as Baronius and Henschenius in the Bol-
landists clearly prove that there was no Sapor, King of Persia,
in the time of Diocletian. He was most probably a prefect of
one of the Eastern provinces, bearing a name so easily allied
with the Persian dynasty. Moreover, it frequently happens in
the Acts of the martyrs that the name of the reigning empe-
ror is given to prefects of the city or other representati/es ;
hence mistakes as to the names of places and persons very
slightly affect th»' subst nti il r.csuiac of the fact recorded.

550 The Victims of the Maniertine,

at the palace of the afflicted king, the con-
versation between the saint and the de-
mon, as we find recorded in many exor-
cisms of more recent date, was mingled
with ridicule and sarcasm.

Immediately after Cyriacus had entered
the apartments of Jobia, the devil, speak-
ing through her, said:

" What is the matter, Cyriacus ? "

"I command you," said the saint, "in
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to
leave this girl and do not trouble her any
more."

V " You are tired," said the devil.
. " I have started in the name of Jesus,"
said Cyriacus, " by which I am guided and
protected in everything."

"But I made you come here; I told
you I would."

Cyriacus, seeing the devil was not leav-
ing, but becoming more impertinent, pros-
trated himself on the ground and prayed
aloud that Jesus would order the evil spirit
to depart ; and whilst the girl writhed very
much, foaming from the mouth and biting
her flesh with her teeth, the devil said,
"Where, then, shall I go?"

Cyriacus»

551

But Cyriacus said, with greater earnest-
ness : •' It is Jesus, the Son of God, who
commands thee to go."

Then, in a loud voice, the demon cried
out, " O terrible name ! that forces me to
le?ive."

Jobia and all her relations were bap-
tized; even the king and four hundred
and twenty of his courtiers were received
into the Church. Cyriacus remained some
time to catechise and instruct his converts.
On leaving, the king offered him rich
presents, all of which he refused, saying,
"We do not sell the grace of God for.
wealth ; we are rewarded in seeing you
embrace the faith." He remained in the
palace of the Persian king for forty-five
days, during which time he lived on bread
and water. Returning to Rome with
Smaragdus and Largus, he was received
with great joy by the court of Diocletian.
He retired to the house which the empe-
ror had given him near the Baths, which
were in course of construction, and pre-
pared himself in prayer and solitude for
the dark day of trial which he saw before
him like clouds on the horizon.

552 The Victims of the I\famei'tirte.

It was iliti will of God to give him but
two months in this retirement. If his own
meditations on the vanity of the world
had not convinced him of the uncertainty
of the tranquillity he enjoyed, the political
changes that were moving around him
gave sufficient indication that he was but
passing through a lull in the storm. Dio-
cletian, surfeited in the gratification of the
passions of pride and cruelty, or in im-
becile fear of his heirs, from whom he had
already received the suggestion of abdica-
tion, or perhaps, as we read in the Acts
of St. Menna, humbled in his egregious
failure of the annihilation of Christianity,
abandoned the court of Rome and retired
to his native Dalmatia. He left the fate
of a suffering people in the hands of a
greater monster. He who condemned thou-
sands of his bravest soldiers to work like
slaves at the Baths, and then had them
mercilessly massacred outside the walls of
the city, was now permitted by God to
prove with greater fury and greater power
the strength of Christianity — not that the
proud emperors alone might be humbled
in their failure, but that future ages might

Cyriacus.

553

learn that the promise of Christ failcth
not ; that even incarnate demons could
not shake the rock-built Church of Jesus.
The first act of Maximian, when left
in full power of Rome, was to seize
Cyriacus. He was cast into the Mamer-
tine and loaded with chains. On the day
of the emperors feast, which was on the
1st of August, the holy martyr was
obliged to assist at the procession — not in
a post of honor, but dragged naked and
in chains before the chariot of the tyrant.
During the procession the holy Pope
Marcellus, seeing the noble Cyriacus so
ill-treated, and fired with that charity that
can never bear with silence or indifference
an insult to God, reproved the t)rant in
his chariot for his injustice. He was
seized, and, by th^ order of Maximian,
bitterly scourged and banished from the
city. His hour of martyrdom had not yet
come. But Cyriacus and his companions,
Smaragdus and Largu^, with another
named Crescentianus, were handed over to
one of the satellites of the court, a wre:ch
named Carpasius, well skilled in the school
of merciless bloodshed.

554 The Victims of the Afamertine,

The Temple of the Earth and the Pietra
Scelerata are once more the scene of
pagan weakness and Christian fortitude.
The paraphernah'a that constituted the or-
naments of the judge's seat were racks,
whips, and iron hooks — everything that
could instil terror into weak humanity, but
not into the martyrs of Jesus Christ.

** Why do you not obey the commands
of the prince and offer expiations to the
gods ? " said the judge to the victims
brought before him in chains. ' ^

Cyriacus read in the countenance of
his companions that he should reply.

" We sacrifice to our Lord Jesus
Christ." •

*' You won't obey, then, what you are
commanded ? Your age has whitened your
brows, Cyriacus ; but I will make them
young for you."

He ordered molten pitch to be poured
on the head of Cyriacus. Whilst suffer-
ing this excruciating torture the holy
martyr, believing it would bring deadi,
cried out : " Glory be to God ! He has
opened for me the gates of his celestial
kingdom 1

• '»

Cyriacus,

555

Crescentianus next attracted the cruel
Carpasius. He had him stretched ou the
rack before the others and beaten with
clubs until the martyr's spirit fled to its
Creator.

Enough of the cruel feast for that
day. Cast them into the Mamertine, and
let them think over what they have seen.
Double their chains, and give them no
food ; the gods have greater torments in
store for those refractory Christians.

Four days were given for the fulfil-
ment of this portion of the programme
of cruelty. Then Cyriacus is brought
forth alone, and, being asked by the
judge why he wished to end his old age
in torments, he bravely replied that it
was the sigh of his life to suffer for
God.

" Sacrifice, and you may live 1 " said
Carpasius. •

** Let those sacrifice who do not know
their Creator, our Lord Jesus Christ. l|
will not ! " firmly replied Cyriacus. '

The aired Christian was stretched on
the rack, beaten, and torn with hooks.
V/hilst yet suffering every species of

556 The Victims of the Mamcrtine,

cruelty in the Temple of the Earth Car-
pasius sent over to Maxiniian, whose
palace was but a few paces across the
Via Sacra, for further directions as to what
he should do with Cyriacus. Perhaps the
judge was afraid to take on himself the
death of such a man, the friend of Dio-
cletian, whose fame had spread over the
city ; but Maximian ordered him and all
his conipanions to be beheaded at once
on the Via Salaria. Twenty-one noble
souls were conducted to the gardens of
Sallust, outside the walls, and, together
with Cyriacus, the intrepid leader of so
many brave bands of martyrs, they passed
from the sorrows of life to their crowns

of "florv.

IV.

About the middle of the ninth century
three holy sisters of the consul Albericus
had elected to serve God in holy chastity
and community of life. ' They built a con-
vent and small church in the Via Lata,
on the site on which the Church of bt.
Marcellus now stands. At the same time
a relative or friend had lived a holy life

Cy7'iacus,

,557

as a hermit at the Catacombs of St. Cal-
listiis. As a holy friendship existed be-
tween these souls, "the sisters asked the her-
mit one day if he knew in the Catacombs
of any relics that they could bring to en-
rich their church. He replied that he had
found the tomb of St. Cyriacus, and that
he would show it to them if they would
come and take the holy relics. They came
and saw the tomb, having this inscription :

"Hie reconditum est corpus
Almi Levitze et martyris Cyriaci,
, A matrona Lucina positum."

Having opened the tomb, they found
Ae head and arm of the saint. But Al-
mighty God, v;ho has a special providence
over the relics of the saints, would not al-
low them to be stirred ; the relics were so
fastened to the tomb that the sisters, not-
withstanding their pious motives, could not
move them. Frii>"htened at this miracle,
but not discouraged, they prayed and fast-
ed, that the saint might come with them,
and made a vow they would build a suit-
able sanctuary and enrich it with valua-
ble orifts if the fav^or were oranted. These
petitions were accepted by God, and he

55^ The Victims of the IJamertine.

permitted the holy relics to be removed.
With a magnificent procession and great
crowds the relics were brought to the
chapel of these pious sisters. Several
times on the journey the relics became so
heavy that no power could move them,
until the sisters, by prayers and tears, pro-
cured the favor wished for. The holy
Pope Agapitus II. was present at this
translation, and ordered the convent found-
ed by the sisters to be called after the
saint's name. All traces of this convent
hav^e been lost. ' '

We have another extraordinary miracle
recorded to have taken place by these
relics in the year 1233. A holy priest,
named Henry, from the Monastery of St.
Cyriacus, in Gernrode, in Saxony, made
a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and on .
his return came to Rome to visit the
shrine of the apostles and venerate the
relics of his patron. He prayed with
great devotion and shed many tears be-
fore the tomb of this glorious martyr.
After his devotions, as if inspired by God,
he expressed hi'' wish to see the relics,
asserting that God had frequently per-

Cyriacus.

559

mitted the devout clients of the martyrs
to see the very wounds by virhich they
had suffered, fresh and bleeding as when
inflicted. He roused the curiosity of the
good sisters, who consequently made a
fervent appeal to the priest Benedictus,
who was in charge of the church, that he
would permit them to see the relics. The
request, springing from a lawful and ra-
tional devotion, was granted, and behold
Almighty God performed a great miracle
in honor of his martyred servant, Cyria-
cus. When the silver case in which the
relics were preserved was opened, the
blood was flowinof afresh from the veins of
the neck as when cut by the sword of
the executioner. The vessel was full of
fresh and warm blood. he extraordinary
fact was seen by the ole city. Thou-
sands flocked around, nd for nine days
the little church was crowded day and night
with people. The -loly relics with the
blood were carried in. procession through
the city, when several miracles were per-
formed. A blind woman received her sight ;
another, paralyzed on one side, was instandy
cured on recommending herself to the saint.

560 The Vict bus of the Mamertme.

Strange to say, the priest Henr)^ who
was the instrument of this manifestation
of the rehcs, was never seen after the
opening of the case. There is a pious
tradition amongst the people that this
Henry was the saint himself, permitted to
come from heaven to rouse devotion and
proclaim the greater glory of God, " who
is wonderful in his saints."

CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

There is a shadow round the holy dead,

A mystery wherein we seem to tread,

As oft their lineaments of life awake,

And sorrowing thoughts their hallowed semblance

take.
What once they dreamt, vhen mortal nature threw
Phantasmal dimness round their soaring view,
Now, all unearthed, beatified, and free
From toils and tears, the unsealed eye can see.
No more on them the lilful whirl of things,
From joy to ^loom, eternal tr al brings.
Arrayed in li-ght, before the throne they shine,
And fathom mysteries of lo'\'« divine :
"Why tears were shed, why pangs of woe prevailed,
"Why good lutfjs mourned, and virtue often failed;
No longer now a withering ssiadow throws.
Like that which han^ around the world's repose.

MONTGDMERV.

ARLY in '■ ' -":' !enturT', \vi:
Cons.tanme _ . :he ChristLiirs
in select :no' for Dosteritv those
places that were sanctified by the suffer-
inors, the miracles, and the triumphs of the

562 The Victims of the Mamertine.

martyrs, the dungeons of the Mamertine
were consecrated to God. Pope Sylvester,
who baptized Constantine,* and to whom
we owe the preservation of the most re-
markable shrines of the early Church, had
a special devotion to this prison, whose
historic poge is tinged with such bitter
mementos of sorrow. If we are to be-
lieve a letter attributed to St. Jerome, and
given at the end of his works, this prison
was the next after St. Peters to attract the
devotion of the holy Pope, who, together
with the convert -emperor, was guided by
the divine Spirit to mark out and pro-
tect tlie sacred shrines of the early
Church.

In the days of paganism the ist of
August was consecrated to the divinity of
the living emperor. It was Caesar's feast-
day. Triumphal arches, gorgeous proces-
sions, games, and idolatrous sacrifices were
lavished in honor of the ruling god. The
festival was kept up for several days, but
its celebrations were orgies of licentious
revel, and, like the demon - worship of

*We believe it is erroneously asserted by some historians
that Constiintine was baptized by Eusebius.

Conclusion,

563

other idols, a stain of infamy in the re-
cords of paganism.

When the cross was now the banner of
the legions ; when the sublime morality of
Christianity had assumed tlie direction of
the people, and Constantine, the vessel of
election, ruled the conquered empire in all
the humility of a Christian king, these
immoral and licentious honors were pro-
hibited. In their stead were introduced
public devotions in honor of the Prince of
the Apostles, the revered founder of the
spiritual dynasty of '* the unsceptred Sove-
reign who still rules from his tomb."

In the letter alluded to, written by St.
Jerome, the emperor is said to have used
these words to Pope Sylvester: "Hereto-
fore, according to the profane customs of
our fathers, I enjoyed the privileges of
those days like others ; but, since it has
pleased God to make me, a sinner, his
servant, I see the iniquity of these unbe-
coming celebrations. Say, therefore, how
I may dedicate them to the one God, and
in honor of blessed Peter, the apostle." *

♦Quoted in Cancellieri, page 70.

564 The Victims of the Afameriine.

Sylvester, beiiiL;' much pleased, replied:
*' There is a prison where the blessed
Peter, the apostle, suffering; for Christ, and
by the saving waters of the miraculous
fountain, baptized many. Cleanse this pri-
son from all filth and dirt ; make it a
church, where the faithful can offer their
devotions in honor of the holy aposde."

Constantine accordingly had the place
cleaned out, and erected a sanctuary over
the prison, which was consecrated by the
same Pope Silvester. Here for many
years were preserved the chains of St.
Peter, and from a twofold source came the
tide of " Peter in Chains." The chains
and the title were removed in the fifdi
century to the superb edifice erected on
the Esquiline by the repentant Eudoxia.
Although some doubt has been cast upon
the authorship of the letter attributed to
St. Jerome, there is no doubt as to the fact
it records. The dedication of the Ma-
mertine by Pope Sylvester to the worship
of God is maintained by constant tradi-
tion and mentioned by several ancient
historians of note. In one of the inscrip-
tions in the prison we read : *' Divus Syl-

\^^

Conclusion,

565

vester Papa, Constantini magni precibus,
hoc career in ecclesiam dicavit." *

A favorite English author gives a fair
picture of the sanctuary as it now stands :
" This chamber is now fitted up as an
oratory, dedicated to the saint ; and it
lives as a distinct and separate place in
my recollection too. It is very small and
low- roofed, and the dread and gloom of
the ponderous old prison are upon it, as
if they came up in the dark mist from the
floor. Hanging on the walls, amongst the
clustered votive offerings, are, at once
strangely in keeping and strangely at va-
riance with the place, rusty daggers,
knives, pistols, clubs, and divers instru-
ments of violence and murder brought
here fresh from use, and hung up to
propitiate offended heaven, as if the blood
upon them would drain off in consecrated
air and have no voice to cry with. It is
all so silent and close and tomb like, and
the dungeons below so black and stealthy
and stagnant and naked, that this little,
dark spot becomes a dream within a

*The blessed Sylvester, Pope, at the request of Constan-
tine the Great, consecrated this prison into a church.

■^- "*> ^

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23 WIST MAIN STRUT

WIBSTER, N.Y. 14580

(716)S72-4S03

4^^

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566 The ^^'^idims of the Mamertine,

dream ; and in the vision of great changes
that come rolling past me like a se^ it is
a small wave by itself, that melts into no
other wave, and does not flow on with
the rest."*

One of the most remarkable of the
ancient crucifixes in Rome is now pre-
served in this little chapel. It has a tra-
dition around it that carries us far back
to the Middle Ages. As a work of art it
is rude and repulsive ; but in its charming,
unwritten history we find the hidden at-
traction that fills the little capella with
offerings and with worshippers, who pour
in devout crowds from dawn to dawn,
seeking and finding consolation amidst the
sombre reminiscences of this hallowed
spot. The prison, wrapt up with the
early history of the Church ; the crucifix,
the emblem of all sorrow and of all joy,
before which generations of pious Romans
have knelt and prayed; and the adorable
presence of the loving Victim of the taber-
nacle, casting from his throne of mercy
floods of spiritual light through the low

♦ " Pictures in Italy."

Conclusion

567

(ii

and dark prison-vault, render this shrine
the most attractive in Rome. '

Consolation to the afflicted is the devo-
tion of the Mamertine. As the Church
of the Miraculous Crib has attractions for
childhood ; as the Madonna del Porto, in
St. Augustine's, is enriched with the votive
offerings of the young and newly married,
so the sigh of age and affliction has sus-
tained through centuries the echo of hu-
man suffering . so historically in keeping
with the lugubrious memories that hang
around these dungeons of pagan tyranny.

Characteristic of the simplicity of Ro-
man piety is an anecdote told in con-
nection with the old cross of the Mamer-
tine. A poor woman had a refractory
husband. Cards, late hours, and drink
had brought him to ruin, and the dismal
curse that blights every earthly comfort in
the home of the intemperate was marking
his downfall in greater and greater want
and sorrow. The wife, virtuous and faith-
ful in her misery, prayed and wept and
hoped ; but, in the mystery of unanswered
prayer,' her troubles continued. At length
she was recommended by her pious con-

563 The Victims of the Mamertine,

fessor to make a novena to the crocifisso of
the Mamertine. She did so. However,
long before the novena w^as finished, she
ceased to kneel amongst the heavy-laden
and burdened who told their troubles to
the consoling God who lived and reigned
in the prison. The pastor, meeting her
some time afterwards, enquired, for her
erring husband. Full of gratitude, she
thanked him for his good advice ; for her
troubles were all over. On the good
priest expressing a hope that now he
would continue' to go to church and keep
sober, she interrupted him by saying
there was no fear of his ever again
troubling her ; lor she had no sooner com-
plained of him to the crocifisso of the Ma-
mertine than the poor man took sick and
died.

Beatrice Cenci! Who has not heard of
the turbaned beauty immortalized by the
pencil of Guido? Two hundred orphan
children prayed for her and made long,
penitential processions to the cross of the
Mamertine. She had won their sympathy
by large alms ; but the heavens 'seemed
made of brass, and nothing could change

Conclusion,

I.I

569

the stern resolve of the guardians of the
law. Unmoved by the touching appeal
of angelic beauty, the claims of wealth
and nobility, and the tears of orphan chil-
dren whom the beautiful maiden promised
to endow, the executioners of Cenci pro-
claimed their inviolable regard for the law,
that found her, on circumstantial evidence,
guilty of murder. At the very moment
the orphan children were kneeling, and
perhaps weeping, around the Sanctuary of
the Mamertine, the headsman decapitated
Beatrice, and, holding the head to the
infuriated mob, and amidst groans and
hisses, cried out : " Behold the head of
a murderess ! "

Amidst much that is true and much that
is false regarding the story of the ill-fated
Cenci we must confess we have a share
in the sympathy which history flings
around her untimely end, not so much be-
cause of the fabulous beauty and wealth
that fancy and art have gilded around her
name, but because of the unanswered cha-
racter of the last and thrilling appeal
made, from a religious motive, at this ven-
erable sanctuary, where so many others

570 The Victims of the Mamertine,

have found consolation and joy. But the
day of judgment will reveal in the secret
ways of Providence that the seemingly
hapless maiden, like many other victims
of unanswered prayer, has been made the
recipient of blessings far more desirable
than the favor denied.

Not only in centuries gone by, but in
modern days, the devotion to the cross of
the Mamertine has been the most popular
in Rome. Other sanctuaries are filled
with enthusiastic crowds on the annual
celebration of their festival ; but the Mam-
ertine, like the steady flow of its miracu-
lous fountain, is ever filled with its vo-
taries.

Before leaving this hallowed and sombre
shrine, looking through the low arches
over the silent worshippers at the dark,
rude crucifix, contrasting with the thou-
sands of bright offerings, the thought
steals over us that the cross is net only
the emblem of faith and consolation, but
it is the monogram of Christian triumph.
The places that were sanctified by Chris-
tian blood or Christian suffering are now
under the savin sr shadow of the cross. In

Conclusion,

571

silent eloquence, surmounting the ruins of
the old city, it proclaims its own triumph
in the very places where all the might of
paganism struggled to cast it into the
dust.

The Capitol was the centre of the ex-
ecutive power. The decrees conceived
with diabolical cruelty in the hearts of the
pagan rulers found the sword of execution
and details of their horrors in the chambers
of the Capitol. Yet the highest thing on
this memorable hill, far away on the top
of the mediaeval tower that crowns the
modern edifice, the Roman soldier car-
ries on the tapering staff of his banner a
small but graceful cross !

On the piazza of St. Peter's — the gar-
dens of Nero — the scene of the first per-
secution, where the blood of the Christians
ran twelve inches deep, on a gigantic pyra-
mid of granite cut from the quarries of
Egypt some three thousand years ago, we
behold, in artistic as well as Christian tri-
umph, the cross!

For two hundred years the cross cast
its saving shadow on the blood-stained
arena of the Coliseum. Alas ! it is not

572 The Victims of the Mamertlne.

there now. The modern desecrators of
the sacred memories of Christian Rome
deemed the cross not in keeping with the
.pagan character of the ruin. But- its tem-
porary absence from this Calvary of the
martyrs will serve to endear and enhance
the triumph it will again achieve over its
enemies.

Amidst the crumbling masses of the
golden house where emperors and pre-
fects poured forth their many blasphemies,
where the guiltless followers of the cross
were tortured, where Satan revelled for
centuries in debauchery and immorality,
the Convent of the Visitation raises its
tinted walls* amidst a grove of pines, and
on the painted cupola of the cloister we
recognize a gilded cross !

Carved on th- ancient gates of the city
and the ruins of pagan temples, sanctify-
ing the entrance to the Catacombs, em-
blazoned in gold and diamonds in the tiara
of its king, and impressed on the hearts
and history of its people, Rome has adopt-
ed the cross as the arms of its crest and
shit^ld, and the mystic emblem of its eter-
nal triumph I

Conchisioiu

57^

The cross in the Mamertine over the
dungeons of the first pontiff has for
eleven centuries preached its moving,
touching, silent sermon; the darkest hour
of trial mu^t give way to the sunshine
of joy, now rising on the horizon of time,
banishing the darkness of our hour of
trial, and envelopin.g in floods of golden
splendor those who glory in the cross of
our Lord Jesus Christ.

<v^