CALLISTA: 
 
 ^ Glutei cf tl]« Cljir^ C^iititrji 
 
 BY 
 
 VERY REV. JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, D. D., 
 
 KECTOB OF THE OATHOLIO UNIVERSITY, DUBLIN. 
 
 Love thy God, and love Him only, 
 
 And thy breast will ne'er be lonely. 
 
 In that One Great Spirit meet 
 
 All things miffhty, grave, and sweet. 
 
 Vainly strives the soul to mingle 
 
 With a being of our kind ; 
 
 Vainly hearts with hearts are twined ; 
 
 For the deepest still is single. 
 
 An impalpable resistance 
 
 Holds like natures still at distance. 
 
 Mortal ! love that Holy One, 
 
 Or dwell for aye alone. De Vere 
 
 D. & J. SADLIER & CO., 161 WILLIAM STREET. 
 
 boston :— 128 federal street. 
 Montreal: — coe. notek damk & franois xavier 8T8. 
 
 1856. 
 

 ADVERTISEMENT, 
 
 It is hardly necessary to say that the following Sketch 
 is a simple fiction from beginning to end. It has very 
 little in it of historical truth, even indirectly introduced, 
 though it has not admitted any actual interference 
 with known facts without notice of it. Nor has it 
 any pretensions to an antiquarian character. Yet it 
 has required more reading than may appear at first 
 sight. 
 
 It is an attempt to imagine and express the feelings 
 and mutual relations of Christians and heathens at 
 the period to which it belongs ; and it has been under- 
 taken as the nearest approach which the Author could 
 make to a more important work suggested to him 
 from a high ecclesiastical quarter, 
 
 September 13, 1855. 
 
 P.S. Since the Volume has been in print, the Author 
 finds that his name has got abroad. This leads him to 
 add, that he wrote great part of Chapters I., IV., and 
 v., and sketched the character and fortunes of Juba, 
 in the early spring of 1848. Having got as far as this, 
 
IV ADVEETISEMENT. 
 
 he stopped from sheer inability to devise personages 
 or incidents. He suddenly resumed the thread of his 
 story shortly after St. Mary Magdalen's day last year, 
 and has been successful so far as this, that he has 
 brought it to an end. 
 
 "Without being able to lay his finger upon instances 
 in point, he has some misgivings, lest there should be 
 any want of exactness in his minor statements, 
 ■whether of opinion or fact, \Yhich carry with them 
 authority when they bear the name of a writer. 
 
 Edgbaston, February 8, 1856. 
 
 ERRATUM. 
 
 Page 43, lines 2 and 3, for Fabius read Fabian, and throughout 
 the volume. 
 
CALLISTA; 
 
 A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 
 
 CHAPTEE L 
 
 In no province of the vast Eoman empire, as it existed 
 in the middle of the third century, did nature wear a 
 richer or a more joyous ^garb than she displayed in 
 Proconsular Africa, a territory of which Carthage was 
 the metropolis, and Sicca might be considered the cen- 
 tre. The latter city, which was the seat of a Eoman 
 colony, lay upon a precipitous or steep bank, which 
 led up along a chain of hills to a mountainous tract in 
 the direction of the north and east. In striking con- 
 trast with this wild and barren region was the view pre- 
 sented by the west and south, where for many miles 
 stretched a smiling champaign, exuberantly wooded, 
 and varied with a thousand hues, till it was terminated 
 at length by the successive tiers of the Atlas, and the 
 dim and fantastic forms of the Numidian mountains. 
 The immediate neighbourhood of the city was occu- 
 pied by gardens, vineyards, cornfields, and meadows, 
 crossed or encircled here by noble avenues of trees 
 or the remains of primeval forests, there by the clus- 
 tering groves which wealth and luxury had created. 
 This spacious plain, though level when compared with 
 the northern heights by which the city was backed, 
 and the peaks and crags which skirted the southern 
 
 B 
 
2 CALLISTA ; 
 
 and western horizon, was discovered, as light and 
 shadow travelled with the sun, to be diversified with 
 hill and dale, upland and hollow ; while orange gar- 
 dens, orchards, olive and palm plantations held their ap- 
 propriate sites on the slopes or the bottoms. Through 
 the mass of green, which extended still more thickly 
 from the west round to the north, might be seen at 
 intervals two solid causeways tracking their persever- 
 ing course to the Mediterranean coast, the one to the 
 ancient rival of Eome, the other to Hippo Eegius in 
 Numidia, Tourists might have complained of the 
 absence of water from the scene ; but the native pea- 
 sant would have explained to them that the eye alone 
 had reason to be discontented, and that the thick 
 foliage and the uneven surface did but conceal what 
 mother earth with no niggard bounty supplied. The 
 Bagradas, issuing from the spurs of the Atlas, made 
 up in depth what it wanted in breadth of bed, and 
 ploughed the rich and yielding mould with its rapid 
 stream, till, after passing Sicca in its way, it fell into 
 the sea near Carthage. It was but the largest of a 
 multitude of others, most of them tributaries to it, 
 deepening as much as they increased it. While chan- 
 nels had been cut from the larger rills for the irriga- 
 tion of the open land, brooks, which sprang up in the 
 gravel which lay against the hills, had been artificially 
 banked with cut stones or paved with pebbles ; and, 
 where neither springs nor rivulets were to be found, 
 wells had been dug, sometimes to the vast depth of as 
 much as 200 fathoms, with such effect that the spurt- 
 ing column of water had in some instances drowned 
 the zealous workmen who had been the first to reach 
 it. And, while such were the resources of less favoured 
 localities or seasons, profuse rains descended over the 
 whole region for one half of the year, and the thick 
 summer dews compensated by night for the daily 
 tribute extorted by an African sun. 
 
 At various distances over the undulating surfiice, 
 and through the woods, were seen the villas and the 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 3 
 
 Bamlets of that happy land. It was an age when the 
 pride of architecture had been indulged to the full ; 
 edifices, public and private, mansions and temples, ran 
 off far away from each market-town or borough, as from 
 a centre, some of stone or marble, but most of them of 
 that composite of fine earth, rammed tight by means of 
 frames, for which the Saracens were afterwards famous, 
 and of which specimens remain to this day, as hard 
 in surface, as sharp at the angles, as when they first 
 were finished. Every here and there, on hill or crag, 
 crowned with basilicas and temples, radiant in the sun, 
 might be seen the cities of the province or of its neigh- 
 bourhood, Thibursicumbur, Thugga, Laribus, Siguessa, 
 Sufetula, and many others ; while in the far distance, 
 on an elevated table-land under the Atlas, might be 
 discerned the Colonia Scillitana, famous about fifty 
 years before the date of which we write for the mar- 
 tyrdom of Speratus and his companions, who were 
 beheaded at the order of the proconsul for refusing to 
 swear by the genius of Eome and the emperor. 
 
 If the spectator now takes his stand, not in Sicca 
 itself, but about a quarter of a mile to the south-east, 
 on the hill or knoll on which was placed the cottage of 
 Agellius, the city itself will enter into the picture. Its 
 name. Sicca Yeneria, if it be derived from the Succoth- 
 benoth, or " tents of the daughters," mentioned by the 
 inspired writer as an object of pagan worship in 
 Samaria, shows that it owed its foundation to the 
 Phcenician colonists of the country. At any rate the 
 Punic deities retained their hold upon the place ; the 
 temples of the Tyrian Hercules and of Saturn, the 
 scene of annual human sacrifices, were conspicuous in 
 its outline, though these and all other religious build- 
 ings in it looked small beside the mysterious antique 
 shrine devoted to the sensual rites of the Syrian 
 A-starte. Public baths and a theatre, a capitol, imita- 
 tive of Home, a gymnasium, tlie long outline of a por- 
 tico, an equestrian statue in brass of the Emperor 
 Severus, were grouped together above the streets of 
 B 2 
 
4 CALLISTA-, 
 
 a city, wliicli, narrow and winding, ran up and down 
 across the hill. In its centre an extraordinary spring 
 threw up incessantly several tons of water every 
 minute, and was inclosed by the superstitious grati- 
 tude of the inhabitants with the peristylium of a sacred 
 place. At the extreme back, towards the north, which 
 could not be seen from the point of view where we 
 last stationed ourselves, there was a sheer descent of 
 rock, bestowing on the city, when it was seen at a 
 distance on the Mediterranean side, the same bold and 
 striking appearance which attaches to Castro Gio- 
 vanni, the ancient Enna, in the heart of Sicily. 
 
 And now, withdrawing our eyes from the pano- 
 rama, whether in its distant or nearer objects, if we 
 would at length contemplate the spot itself from which 
 we have been last surveying it, we shall find almost as 
 much to repay attention, and to elicit admiration. 
 "We stand in the midst of a farm of some wealthy pro- 
 prietor, consisting of a number of fields and gardens, 
 separated from each other by hedges of cactus or the 
 aloe. At the foot of the hill, which sloped down on 
 the side furthest from Sicca to one of the tributaries of 
 the rich and turbid river of which we have spoken, a 
 large yard or garden, intersected with a hundred arti- 
 ficial rills, was devoted to the cultivation of the beau- 
 tiful and odoriferous Mennah. A thick grove of palms 
 seemed to triumph in the refreshment of the water's 
 side, and lifted up their thankful boughs towards hea- 
 ven. The barley harvest in the fields which lay higher 
 up the hill was over, or at least was finishing ; and all 
 that remained of the crop was the incessant and im- 
 portunate chirping of the cicadce, and the rude booths 
 of reeds and bulrushes, now left to wither, in which 
 the peasant boys found shelter from the sun, while in 
 an earlier month they frightened from the grain the 
 myriads of linnets, goldfinches, and other small birds 
 who, as in other countries, contested with the human 
 proprietor the possession of it. On the south-western 
 slope lies a neat and carefully dressed vineyard, the 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTTJET. 5 
 
 vine-stakes of which, dwarfish as they are, already east 
 long shadows on the eastern side. Slaves are scattered 
 over it, testifying to the scorching power of the sun 
 by their broad petasus, and to its oppressive heat by 
 the scanty suhligarium which reached from the belt or 
 girdle to the knees. They are engaged in cutting off' 
 useless twigs to which the last showers of spring have 
 given birth, and are twisting those which promise fruit 
 into positions where they will be safe both from the 
 breeze and from the sun. Every thing gives token of 
 that gracious and happy season which the great Latin 
 poets have hymned in their beautiful but heathen 
 strains ; when, after the heavy rains, and raw mists, 
 and piercing winds, and fitful sun-gleams of a long six 
 months, the mighty mother manifests herself anew, 
 and pours out the resources of her innermost being 
 for the life and enjoyment of every portion of the vast 
 whole ; — or, to apply the lines of a modern bard, 
 
 " When the bare earth, till now 
 Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned, 
 Brings forth the tender grass, whose verdure clads 
 Her universal face with pleasant green ; 
 Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flower, 
 Opening their various colours, and make gay 
 Her bosom, swelling sweet ; and, these scarce blown, 
 Forth flourishes the clustering vine, forth creeps 
 The swelling gourd, up stands the corny reed 
 Embattled in her fields, and the humble shrub, 
 And bush with frizzled hair implicit ; last 
 Rise, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 
 Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gem 
 Their blossoms ; with high woods the hills are crowned ; 
 With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side ; 
 With borders long the rivers ; that earth now 
 Seems like to heaven, a seat where gods might dwell, 
 Or wander with delight, and love to haunt 
 Her sacred shades." 
 
 A snatch from some old Greek chant, with some- 
 thing of plaintiveness in the tone, issues from the 
 thicket just across the mule-path, cut deep in the 
 earth, which reaches from the city gate to the stream- 
 let ; and a youth, who had the appearance of the 
 
6 CALLISTA ; 
 
 assistant bailiff or procurator of tlie farm leaped from 
 it, and went over to the labourers, ^Yho were busy 
 ■with the vines. His eyes and hair and the cast of his 
 features spoke of Europe ; his manner had something 
 of shyness and reserve, rather than of rusticity ; and 
 he wore a simple red tunic with half sleeves, descend- 
 ing to the knee, and tightened round him by a belt. 
 His legs and feet were protected by boots w-hich came 
 half up his calf. He addressed one of the slaves, and 
 his voice was gentle and cheerful. 
 
 " Ah, Sansar !" he cried, " I don't like your way of 
 managing these branches so well as my own ; but it is 
 a difficult thing to move an old fellow like you. You 
 never fasten together the shoots which you don't cut off; 
 they are flying about quite wild, and the first ox that 
 passes through the field next month for the ploughing 
 will break them off." 
 
 He spoke in Latin ; the man understood it, and 
 answered him in the same language, though with de- 
 viations from purity of accent and syntax, not without 
 parallel in the talkee-talkee of the AYest Indian negro. 
 
 " Ay, ay, master," he said, " ay, ay ; but it's all 
 a mistake to use the plough at all. The fork does the 
 work much better, and no fear for the grape. I hide 
 the tendril under the leaf against the sun, which is 
 the only enemy we have to consider." 
 
 "Ah! but the fork does not raise so much dust as 
 the plough and the heavy cattle which draw it," re- 
 turned Agellius ; " and the said dust does more for 
 the protection of the tendril than the shade of the 
 leaf." 
 
 " But those huge beasts," relorted the slave, "turn 
 up great ridges, and destroy the yard." 
 
 " It's no good arguing with an old vinedresser, who 
 had formed his theory before I was born," said Agel- 
 lius good-humouredly ; and he passed on into a garden 
 beyond. 
 
 Here were other indications of the happy month 
 through which the year was now travelling. The 
 
A SKETCH OP THE TKTRB CENTURY. 7 
 
 garden, so to call it, was a space of several acres in 
 extent ; it was one large bed of roses, and preparation 
 was making for extracting their essence, for which 
 various parts of that coantry are to this day cele- 
 brated. Here was another set of labourers, and a 
 man of middle age was surveying them at his leisure. 
 His business-like, severe, and off-hand manner be- 
 spoke the villicus or bailiff himself. 
 
 " Always here," said he, "as if you were a slave, 
 not a Eoman, my good fellow ; yet slaves have their 
 Saturnalia; always serving, not worshipping the all- 
 bounteous and ail-blessed. Why are yoa not taking 
 holiday in the town ?" 
 
 " Why should I, sir ?" asked Agellius ; " don't you 
 recollect old Hienipsal's saying about ' one foot in the 
 slipper, and one in the shoe,' Nothing would be 
 done well if I were a town-goer. You engaged me, I 
 suppose, to be here, not there." 
 
 "Ah!" answered he, "but at this season the 
 empire, the genius of Eome, the customs of the coun- 
 try, demand it, and above all the great goddess Astarte, 
 and her genial, jocund month. ' Parturit almus ager ;' 
 you know the verse; do not be out of tune with 
 nature, nor clash and jar with the great system of the 
 universe." 
 
 A cloud of confusion, or of distress, passed over 
 Agelhus's face. He seemed as if he wished to speak ; 
 at length he merely said, " It's a fault on the right 
 side in a servant, I suppose." 
 
 " I know the way of your people," Yitricus replied, 
 " Corybantians, Phrygians, Jews, what do you call 
 yourselves? There are so many fantastic religious 
 now-a-days. Hang yourself outright at your house- 
 door, if you are tired of living, — and you are a sensible 
 fellow. How^ can any man, whose head sits right upon 
 his shoulders, say that life is worth having, and not 
 worth enjoying?" 
 
 " I am a quiet being," answered Agellius, "I like 
 
8 CALLISTA ; 
 
 the-countrj, which you think so tame, and care little 
 for tlie flaimtiDg town. Tastes differ." 
 
 " Town ! you need not go to Sicca," answered the 
 bailiff, " all Sicca is out of town. It has poured into 
 the fields, and groves, and river side. Lift up your 
 eyes, man alive, open your ears, and let pleasure flow 
 in. Be passive under the sweet breath of the goddess, 
 and she will fill you with ecstasy." 
 
 It was as Vitricus had said ; the solemn feast-days of 
 Astarte were in course of celebration ; of Astarte, the 
 well-known divinity of Carthage and its dependent 
 cities, whom Helio<Tabalus had lately introduced to 
 Eome, who in her different aspects was at once Urania, 
 Juno, and Aphrodite, according as she embodied the 
 idea of the philosopher, tlie statesman, or the vulgar ; 
 lofty and intellectual as TJrania, majestic and com- 
 manding as Juno, seductive as the goddess of sen- 
 suality and excess. 
 
 " There goes the son of as good and frank a soldier 
 as ever brandished pilum," said Vitricus to himself, 
 " till in his last years some infernal god took umbrage 
 at him, and saddled him and his with one of those absurd 
 superstitions which are as plentiful here as serpents. 
 He indeed was too old himself to get much harm from 
 it; but it shows its sour nature in these young shoots. 
 A good servant, but the plague's in his bones, and he 
 will rot." 
 
 His subordinate's reflections were of a different 
 character : " The very air breathes sin to-day," he 
 cried ; " O that I did not find the taint of the city in 
 these works of God ! Alas ! sweet nature, the child 
 of the Almighty, is made to do the fiend's Avork, and 
 does it better than the town. O ye beautiful trees 
 and fair flowers, O bright sun and balmy air, what a 
 bondage ye are in, and how do ye groan till you are 
 redeemed from it I Ye are bond-slaves, but not will- 
 ingly, as man is ; but how will you ever be turned to 
 nobler purpose ? How is this vast, this solid establish- 
 
A SKETCn OF THE THIED CENTUET. 9 
 
 ment of error, the incubus of many thousand years, 
 ever to have an end ? You yourselves, dear ones, will 
 come to nought first. Any how, the public way is no 
 place for me this evening. They'll soon be back from 
 their accursed revelry." 
 
 A sound of horns and voices had been heard from 
 time to time through the woods, as if proceeding from 
 parties dispersed through them ; and in the growing 
 twilight might be seen lights', glancing and wandering 
 through the foliage. The cottage in which Agellius 
 dwelt was on the other side of the hollow bridle-way 
 which crossed the hill. To make for home he' had 
 first to walk for some little distance along it ; and 
 scarcely had he descended into it for that purpose, 
 when he found himself in the front of a band of 
 revellers, who were returning from some scene of 
 impious festivity. They were arrayed in holiday 
 guise, as far as they studied dress at all ; the symbols 
 of idolatry were on their foreheads and arms ; some of 
 them were intoxicated, and most of them were women. 
 
 " Why have you not been worshipping, young fel- 
 low ?" said one. 
 
 " Comely built," said another, "but struck by the 
 furies. I know the cut of him." 
 
 " By Astarte," said a third, " he's one of those sly 
 Gnostics ! I have seen the chap before, with his hang- 
 dog look. He's one of Pluto's whelps, first cousin to 
 Cerberus, and his name's Channibal." 
 
 On which they all began to shout out, " I say, 
 Channibal, Channibal, here's a lad that knows you. 
 Old fellow, come along with us," and the speaker 
 made a dash at him. 
 
 On this Agellius, who was slowly making his way 
 past them on the broken and steep path, leapt up in two 
 or three steps to the ridge, and went away in security ; 
 when one woman cried out, " the toad, I know him 
 now ; he is a wizard ; he eats little children ! didn't 
 you see him make that sign ? it's a charm.. My sister 
 did it ; the fool left me to bfc one of them. Sh^ was 
 
10 CALLISTA ; 
 
 ever doing so" (mimicldng tlie sign of the cross). 
 " He's a Christian, blight him ! he'll turn us into 
 beasts." 
 
 "Cerberus bite him!" said another, "he sucks 
 blood ;" aud taking up a stone, she made it whiz past 
 his ear as he disappeared from view. A general 
 scream of contempt and hatred followed. ""Where's 
 the ass's head ? put out the lights, put out the lights ! 
 gibbet him : that's why he has not been with honest 
 people down in the vale." And then they struck up 
 a blasphemous song, the sentiments of which we are 
 nob going even to conceive, much less to attempt in 
 words. 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTUKY. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The revellers went on their way; Agellius went on 
 his, and reached his lowly and lonely cottage. He was 
 the elder of the two sons of a Eoman legionary, of 
 the Secunda Italica, who had settled, married, and 
 died in Sicca, having in his old age become a Christian. 
 The fortitude of some confessors at Carthage in the 
 persecution of Severus had been the initial cause of 
 his conversion. He had been posted as one of their 
 guards, and had attended them to the scene of their 
 martyrdom, in addition to the civil force, to whom in 
 the proconsulate the administration of the law was 
 committed. Therefore, happily for him, it could not 
 fall to his duty to be their executioner ; a function 
 which, however revolting to his feelings, he might not 
 have had courage to decline. He remained a pagan, 
 though he could not shake off the impression which 
 the martyrs had made npon him ; and, after completing 
 his time of service, he retired to the protection of some 
 great friends in Sicca, where his brother already lived. 
 Here he took a wife of the old Numidian stock, and 
 supported himself by the produce of a small piece of 
 land which had been given him for life by the imperial 
 government. If trial were necessary in order to 
 keep alive the good seed which had been sown in his 
 heart, he found a never- failing supply of that article 
 in the companion of his declining years. In the hey- 
 
12 CALLISTA ; 
 
 day of her youtli slie might have heen fitted to throw 
 a sort of sunshine, or rather torch-light, on a mihtary 
 carouse ; but now, when poor Straho, a man well to do 
 in the world, looking for peace, had fallen under her 
 arts, he found he had surrendered his freedom to a 
 malignant, profligate woman, whose passions made her 
 better company for evil spirits than for an invalided 
 soldier. Indeed, as time went on, the popular belief, 
 which she rather encouraged, went to the extent that 
 she actually did hold an intercourse with the unseen 
 world ; and certainly she matured in a hatred towards 
 God and man, which would naturally follow, and not 
 unnaturally betoken, such intercourse. The more, then, 
 she inflicted on him her proficiency in these amiable 
 characteristics, the more he looked out for some con- 
 solation elsewhere ; and the more she involved herself 
 in the guilt or the repute of unlawful arts, the more 
 was he drawn to that religion, where alone to com- 
 mune with the invisible is to hold intercourse with 
 heaven, not with hell. Whether so great a trial 
 supplied a more human inducement for looking to- 
 wards Christianity, it is impossible to say. Most men, 
 certainly Homan soldiers, may be considered to act on 
 mixed motives ; but so it was in fact, that, on his be- 
 coming in his last years a Christian, he found, perhaps 
 discovered, to his great satisfaction, that the Church 
 did not oblige him to continue or renew a tie which 
 bound him to so much misery, and that he might end 
 his days in a tranquillity which his past life required, 
 and his wife's presence would have precluded. He 
 made a good end ; he had been allowed to take the 
 blessed sacrament from the altar to his own home on 
 the last time he had been able to attend a sjjnaxis 
 of the faithful, and thus had communicated at least 
 six months within his decease ; and the priest who 
 anointed him at the beginning of his last illness also 
 took his confession. He died, begging forgiveness of 
 all whom he had injured, and giving large alms to the 
 poor. This was about the year 236, in the midst of 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 13 
 
 that long peace of the Church which was broken at 
 length by the Decian persecution. 
 
 This peace of well-nigh fifty years had necessarily 
 a peculiar, and not a happy effect upon the Christians 
 of the proconsulate. They multiplied in the greater 
 and the maritime cities, and made their way into po- 
 sitions of importance, whether in trade or the govern- 
 mental departments ; they extended their family con- 
 nexions, and were on good terms with the heathen. 
 Whatever jealousy might be still cherished against the 
 Clu'istian name, nevertheless individual Christians 
 were treated with civility, and recognized as citizens ; 
 though among the populace there would be occasions, 
 at the time of the more solemn pagan feasts, when 
 accidental outbursts might be expected of the an- 
 tipathy latent in the community, as we have been 
 recording in the foregoing chapter. Men of sense, 
 however, began to understand them better, and to be 
 more just to the reasonableness of their faith. This 
 would lead them to scorn Christianity less, but it 
 would lead them to fear it more. It was no longer a 
 matter merely for the populace to insult, but for a 
 government deliberately to put down. The prevailing 
 and still growing unbelief among the lower classes of 
 the population did but make a religion more formid- 
 able, which, as heathen statesmen felt, was able to 
 wield the weapons of enthusiasm and zeal with a force 
 and success unknown even to the most fortunate im- 
 postors among the Oriental or Egyptian hierophants. 
 The philosophical schools were impressed with similar 
 apprehensions, and had now for fifty years been em- 
 ployed in creating and systematizing a new intellectual 
 basis for the received paganism. 
 
 But, while the signs of the times led to the antici- 
 pation that a struggle was impending between the 
 heads of the state religion and of the new worship 
 which was taking its place, the great body of Chris- 
 tians, laymen and ecclesiastics, were on better and 
 better terms, individually, with the members of society, 
 
14 CALLISTA; 
 
 or what is now called the public ; and, without losing 
 their f\iith, or those embers of charity which favour- 
 able circumstances would promptly rekindle, were, it 
 must be confessed, in a state of considerable relaxation ; 
 they often were on the brink of deplorable sins, and 
 sometimes fell over the brink. And many would join 
 the Church on inferior motives as soon as no great 
 temporal disadvantage attached to the act, or the 
 families of Christian parents might grow up with so 
 little of moral and religious education as to make it 
 difficult to say why they called themselves members of 
 a divine religion. Mixed marriages would increase 
 both the scandal and the confusion. 
 
 "A long repose," says St. Cyprian, speaking ( f tliis 
 very period, " had corrupted the discipline whicli liad 
 come down to us. Every one was applying himself 
 to the increase of wealth ; and, forgetting both the 
 conduct of the faithful nnder the Apostles, and Avhat 
 ought to be their conduct in every age, with insatiable 
 eagerness for gain devoted himself to the multiplying 
 of possessions. Tlie priests were wanting in religious 
 devotedness, the ministers in entireuessof faith ; there 
 was no mercy in works, no discipline in manners. 
 ]\ren wore their beards disfigured, and women dyed 
 their faces. Their eyes were changed from what God 
 made them, and a lying colour was passed upon the 
 hair. The hearts of the simple were misled by treache- 
 rous artifices, and brethren became entangled in se- 
 ductive snares. Ties of marriage were formed with 
 unbelievers ; members of Christ abandoned to the 
 heathen. Not only rash swearing was heard, but even 
 false ; persons in high place were swollen with con- 
 temptuousness ; poisoned reproaches fell from theii 
 mouths, and men were sundered by unabating quarrels. 
 Numerous bishops, who ought to be an encourage- 
 ment and example to others, despising their sacred 
 calling, engaged themselves in secular vocations, re- 
 linquished their sees, deserted their people, strayed 
 among foreign provinces, hunted the markets for 
 
A. SKFTCH OF THE THIRD CENTUET. 15 
 
 mercantile profits, and tried to amass large sums of 
 money, while Lhej Lad brethren starving within the 
 Church ; took possession of estates by fraudulent 
 proceedings, and multiplied their gains by accumulated 
 usuries \''' 
 
 The relaxation which would extend the profession 
 of Christianity in the larger cities would contract or 
 extinguish it in remote or country places. There 
 would be little zeal to keep up Churches, which could 
 not be served without an effort or without secular loss. 
 Carthage, Utica, Hippo, Milevis, or Curubis, was a 
 more attractive residence than the towns of uucouth 
 African names, which amaze the ecclesiastical student 
 in the acts of the councils. Vocations became scarce ; 
 sees remained vacant ; congregations died out. This 
 was pretty much the case with the Churcli and see of 
 Sicca. At the time of which we write, history pre- 
 serves no record of any bishop as exercising his pas- 
 toral functions in that city. In matter of fact there 
 was none. The last bishop, an amiable old man, had 
 in the course of years acquired a considerable extent 
 of arable land, and employed himself principally, for 
 lack of more spiritual occupation, in reaping, stacking, 
 selling, and sending off his wheat for the Eoman 
 market. His deacon had been celebrated in early 
 youth for his boldness in the chase, and took part in 
 the capture of lions and panthers (an act of charity 
 towards the peasants round Sicca) for the Koman 
 amphitheatre. Ko priests were to be found, and the 
 bishop became ^^aroclins till his death. Afterwards 
 infimts and catechumens lost baptism ; parents lost 
 faith, or at least love ; wanderers lost repentance and 
 conversion. Eor a time there was a flourishing meet- 
 ing-house of TertuUianists, who had scared more hum- 
 ble minds by pronouncing the eternal perdition of every 
 Catholic ; there had also been various descriptions of 
 Gnostics, who had carried off the clever youths and 
 
 ' Vid. Oxford trans, of St. Cyprian, 
 
CALLISTA ; 
 
 restless speculators ; and there had been the lapse of 
 time, gradually consuming the generation which had 
 survived the flourishing old times of the African 
 Church. And the result was, that in the year 250 it 
 was difficult to say of whom the Church of Sicca con- 
 sisted. There was no bishop, no priest, no deacon. 
 There was the old mansionarius or sacristan : there 
 were two or three pious women, married or single, 
 who owed their religion to good mothers ; there were 
 some slaves who kept to their faith, no one knew how 
 or why ; there were a vast many persons who ought 
 to be Catholics, but were heretics, or nothing at all, 
 or all but pagans, and sure to become pagans on the 
 asking ; there were A gellius and his brother Juba, and 
 how far these two had a claim to the Christian name 
 we now proceed to explain. 
 
 They were about the ages of seven and eight when 
 their father died, and they fell under the guardianship 
 of their uncle, whose residence at Sicca had been one 
 of the reasons which determined Strabo to settle there. 
 This man, being possessed of some capital, drove a 
 thriving trade in idols, large and small, amulets, and 
 the like instruments of the established superstition. 
 His father had come to Carthage in the service of one 
 of the assessors of the proconsul of the day ; and his 
 son, finding competition ran too high to give him 
 prospect of remuneration in the metropolis, had opened 
 his statue-shop in Sicca. Those modern arts which 
 enable an English town in this day to be so fertile in 
 the production of ware of this description for the 
 markets of the pagan East, were then unknown ; and 
 Jucundus depended on certain artists whom he im- 
 ported, especially on two G-reeks, brother and sister, 
 who came from some isle on the Asian coast, for the sup- 
 ply of his trade. He was a good-natured man, self-in- 
 dulgent, positive, and warmly attached to the reigning 
 paganism, both as being the law of the land and the 
 vital principle of the state ; and, while he was really 
 kind to his orphan nephews, he simply abominated, aa 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 17 
 
 in duty bound, the idiotic cant and impudent fee-fa- 
 fum, to which, in his infallible judgment, poor old 
 Strabo had betrayed his children. He would have 
 restored them, you may be quite sure, to their country 
 and their country's gods, had they acquiesced in the 
 restoration ; but in different ways these little chaps, 
 and he shook his head as he said it, were difficult to 
 deal with. Agellius had a very positive opinion of his 
 own on the matter ; and as for Juba, though he had 
 no opinion at all, yet he had an equally positive aver- 
 sion to have any opinion at all, even in favour of 
 paganism, thrust on him by another. He had re- 
 mained in his catechumen state since he grew up, 
 because he found himself in it ; and though nothing 
 would make him go forward in his profession of Chris- 
 tianity, no earthly power would be able to make him 
 go back. So there he was, like a mule, stuck fast in 
 the door of the Church, and feeling a gratification in 
 his independence of mind. However, whatever his 
 profession might be, still, as time went on, he plainly 
 took after his mother ; renewed his intercourse with 
 her after his father's death, and at length went so far 
 as to avow that he believed in nothing but the devil, 
 if even he believed in him. It was scarcely safe, how- 
 ever, to affirm that the senses of this hopeful lad were 
 his own. 
 
 Agellius, on the other hand, when a boy of six years 
 old, had insisted on receiving baptism ; had perplexed 
 his father by a manifestation of zeal to which the old 
 man was a stranger, and had made the good bishop 
 lose the corn-fleet which was starting for Italy from 
 his importunity to learn the catechism. Baptized he 
 was, confirmed, communicated ; but a boy's nature is 
 variable, and by the time Agellius had reached ado- 
 lescence, the gracious impulses of his childhood had in 
 some measure faded away, though he still retained his 
 faith in its first keenness and vigour. But he had no 
 one to keep him up to his duty ; no exhortations, no 
 example, no sympathy. His father's friends had taken 
 
 c 
 
18 CALLISTA ; 
 
 him up so far as this, that by an extraordinary favour 
 they had got him a lease for some years of the pro- 
 perty which Strabo, a veteran soldier, had rented of 
 the imperial government. The care of this small 
 property fell upon him, and another and more serious 
 charge was added to it. The long prosperity of the 
 province had increased the opulence and enlarged the 
 upper class of Sicca. Officials, contractors, and ser- 
 vants of the government had made fortunes, and 
 raised villas in the neighbourhood of the city. Natives 
 of the place, returning from Eome or from provincial 
 service elsewhere, had invested their gains in long 
 leases of state lands, or of the farms belonging to the 
 imperial res privata or privy purse, and had become 
 virtual proprietors of the rich fields or beautiful 
 gardens in which they had played as children. One of 
 such persons, who had had a place in the qfficium of the 
 quaestor, or rather procurator, as he began to be 
 called, was the employer of Agellius. His property 
 adjoined the cottage of the latter; and, having, first 
 employed the youth from recollection of his father, 
 he confided to him the place of under-bailiff" from the 
 talents he showed for farm business. 
 
 Such was his position at the early age of twenty- 
 two ; and honourable as it was in itself, and from the 
 mode in which it was obtained, no one would consider 
 it adapted, under the circumstances, to counteract the 
 religious languor and coldness which had grown upon 
 him. And in truth he did not know where he stood, 
 further than that he was firm in faith, as we have said, 
 and had shrunk, from a boy upwards, from the vice 
 and immorality which was the very atmosphere of 
 Sicca. He might any day be betrayed into some fatal 
 inconsistency, which would either lead him into sin, or 
 oblige him abruptly to retrace his steps, and find a 
 truer and safer position. He was not generally 
 known to be a Christian, at least for certain, though 
 he was seen to keep clear of the established religion. 
 It was not that he hid, so much as that the world did 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 19 
 
 not care to know, what he believed. In that day there 
 were many rites and worships which kept to them- 
 selves ; many forms of moroseness or misanthropy, as 
 they were considered, which withdrew their votaries 
 from the public ceremonial. .The Catholic faith 
 seemed to the multitude to be one of these ; it was 
 only in critical times, when some idolatrous act was 
 insisted on by the magistrate, that the specific nature 
 of Christianity was tested and detected. Then at 
 length it was seen to differ from all other religious 
 varieties by that irrational and disgusting obstinacy, 
 as it was felt to be, which had rather suffer torments 
 and lose life than submit to some graceful, or touching, 
 or at least trifling observance which the tradition of 
 ages had sanctioned. 
 
20 callista; 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The cottage for wliich Agellius was making, when last, 
 we had sight of him, was a small brick house, consisting 
 of one room, with a loft over it, and a kitchen on the 
 side, not very unlike that holy habitation which once 
 contained the Eternal Word in human form with his 
 Virgin Mother, and Joseph, their guardian. It was 
 situated on the declivity of the hill, and, unlike the 
 gardens of Italy, the space before it was ornamented 
 with a plot of turf. A noble palm on one side, in 
 spite of its distance from the water, and a group of 
 orange-trees on the other, formed a foreground to the 
 rich landscape which was described in our opening 
 chapter. The borders and beds were gay with the 
 lily, the bacchar, amber-coloured and purple, the golden 
 abrotomus, the red chelidonium, and the variegated 
 iris. Against the wall of the house were trained 
 pomegranates, with their crimson blossoms, the star- 
 like pothos or jessamine, and the symbolical passion- 
 flower, which well became a Clmstian dwelling. 
 
 It was an intimation of what would be found 
 within ; for on the side of the room was rudely painted 
 a red cross, with doves about it, as is found in early 
 Christian shrines to this day. So long had been the 
 peace of the Churcli, that the tradition of persecution 
 seemed to have been lost ; and Christians allowed tliem- 
 selves in the profession of their faith at home, cautious 
 as they might be in public places ; as freely as now io 
 
A. SKETCH OP THE THIRD CENTITEY. 21 
 
 England, where we do not scruple to raise crucifixeg 
 within our churches and houses, though we shrink from 
 doing so within sight of the hundred cabs and omni- 
 buses which rattle past them. Under the cross were 
 two or three pictures, or rather sketches. lu the 
 centre stood the Blessed Virgin with hands spread 
 out in prayer, attended by the holy Apostles Peter 
 and Paul on her right and left. Under this repre- 
 sentation were rudely scratched upon the walls the 
 words, " Advocata nostra," a title which the earliest 
 antiquity bestows upon her. On a small shelf was 
 placed a case with two or three rolls or sheets of 
 parchment in it. The appearance of them spoke of 
 use indeed, but of reverential treatment. These were 
 the Psalms, the Gospel according to St. Luke, and St. 
 Paul's Epistle to the Romans, in the old Latin version. 
 The Gospel was handsomely covered, and ornamented 
 with gold. 
 
 The apartment was otherwise furnished with such 
 implements and materials as might be expected in the 
 cottage of a countryman : one or two stools and 
 benches for sitting, a table, and in one corner a heap 
 of dried leaves and rushes, with a large crimson 
 coverlet, for rest at night. Elsewhere were two mill- 
 stones fixed in a frame, with a handle attached to the 
 rim of one of them, for grinding corn. Then again, 
 garden tools ; boxes of seeds ; a vessel containing syrup 
 for assuaging the sting of the scorpion ; the asir-rese 
 or anagallis, a potent medicine of the class of poisons, 
 which was taken in wine for the same mischance. It 
 hung from the beams, with a large bunch of atsir- 
 tlpliua, a sort of camomile, smaller in the flower and 
 more fragrant than our own, which was used as a 
 febrifuge. Thence, too, hung a plentiful gathering of 
 dried grapes, of the kind called duracincd ; and near 
 the door a bough of the green hargut or psi/llium, to 
 drive away the smaller insects. 
 
 Poor Agellius felt the contrast between the un- 
 godly turmoil from which he had escaped, and the 
 
22 CALLISTA ; 
 
 deep stillness into which he now had entered ; but 
 neither satisfied him quite. There was no repose out 
 of doors, and no relief within. He was lonely at 
 home, lonely in the crowd. He needed the sympathy 
 of his kind; hearts which might beat with his heart; 
 friends with Avhom he might share his joys and griefs ; 
 advisers whom he might consult ; minds like his own, 
 who would understand him, — minds unlike his own, 
 who would succour and respond to him. A very great 
 trial certainly this, in which the soul is flung back 
 upon itself; and that especially in the case of the 
 young, for whom memory and experience do so little, 
 and wayward and excited feelings do so much. Great 
 gain had it been for Agellius, even in its natural 
 effect, putting aside higher benefits, to have been able 
 to recur to sacramental confession ; but to confession 
 he had never been, though once or twice he had 
 attended the public Jwynologesis of the Church. Shall 
 we wonder that the poor youth began to be despond- 
 ent and impatient under his trial? Shall we not feel 
 for him, though we may be sorry for him, should it 
 turn out that he was looking restlessly into every 
 corner of the small world of acquaintance in which his 
 lot lay for those with whom he could converse easily, 
 and interchange speculation, argument, aspiration, and 
 affection ? 
 
 "No one cares for me," he said, as he sat down on 
 his rustic bench. " I am nothing to any one ; I am a 
 hermit, like Elias or John, without the call to be one. 
 Yet even Elias felt the burden of being one against 
 many ; even John asked at length in expostulation, 
 'Art Thou He that shall come?' Am I for ever to 
 have the knowledge, without the consolation, of the 
 truth ? am I for ever to belong to a great divine 
 society, yet never see the face of any of its mem- 
 bers ?" 
 
 He paused in his thoughts, as if drinking in the full 
 taste and measure of his unhappiness. And then his 
 reflections took a turn, and he said suddenly, " Why 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CETfTUHT. 23 
 
 do I not leave Sicca ? What binds me to my father's 
 farm ? I am young, and my interest in it will soon 
 expire. What keeps me from Carthage, Hippo, Cir- 
 tha, where Ciiristians are so many?" But here he 
 stopped as suddenly as he had begun ; and a strange 
 feeling, half pang, half thrill, \Yent through his heart. 
 And he felt unwilling to pursue his thought, or to 
 answer the question which he had asked ; and he set- 
 tled into a dull, stagnant condition of mind, in which 
 he seemed hardly to think at all. 
 
 Be of good cheer, solitary one, though thou art not 
 a hero yet ! There is One that cares for thee, and 
 loves thee, more than thou canst feel, love, or care for 
 thyself. Cast all thy carj upon Him. He sees thee, 
 and is watching thee ; He is hanging over thee, and 
 smiles in compassion at thy troubles. His angel, who 
 is thine, is whispering good thoughts to thee. He 
 knows thy weakness ; He foresees thy errors ; but He 
 holds thee by thy right hand, and thou shalt not, 
 canst not escape Him. By thy faith, which thou hast 
 so simply, resolutely retained in the midst of idolatry ; 
 by thy purity, which, like some fair flower, thou hast 
 cherished in the midst of pollution, He will remember 
 thee in thy evil hour, and thine enemy shall not pre- 
 vail against thee ! / 
 
 AVhat means that smile upon Agellius's face ? It 
 is the response of the child to the loving parent. He 
 knows not why, but the cloud i^ past. He signs 
 himself with the holy cross, and sweet reviving thoughts 
 enliven him. He names the sacred Name, and it is like 
 ointment poured out upon his soul. He rises ; he 
 kneels down under the dread symbol of his salvation ; 
 and he begins his evening prayer. 
 
24 callista; 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 There was more of heart, less of effort, less of me- 
 chanical habit in Agcllius's prayers that night, than 
 there had been for a long while before. He got up, 
 struck a light, and communicated it to his small 
 earthen lamp. Its pale rays feebly searched the 
 room, and discovered at the other end of it Juba, who 
 had silently opened the door, and sat down near it, 
 while his brother was employed upon his devotions. 
 The countenance of the latter fell, for he was not to 
 go to sleep with the resignation and peace which had 
 just before been poured into his breast. Yet why 
 should he complain ? we receive consolation in this 
 world for the very purpose of preparing us against 
 trouble to come. Juba was a tall, swarthy, wild- 
 looking youth. He was holding his head on one side 
 as he sat, and his face towards the roof; he nodded 
 obliquely, arched his eyebrows, pursed up his lips, and 
 crossed his arms, while he gave utterance to a strange, 
 half-whispered laugh. 
 
 " He, he, he !" he cried ; " so you are on your knees, 
 Agellius.'* 
 
 " Why shouldn't I be at this hour," answered 
 Agellius, "and before I go to bed?" 
 
 " 0, every one to his taste, of couVse," said Juba; 
 "but to an unprejudiced mind there is something 
 unworthy in the act." 
 
 "AVh}'-, Juba," said his brother somewhat sharply, 
 " don't you profess any religion at all ?" 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 25 
 
 "Perhaps I do, and perhaps I don't," answered 
 Juba ; " but never shall it be a bowing and scraping, 
 crawling and cringing religion. You may take your 
 oath of that." 
 
 " AVhat ails you to come here at tbis time of 
 night?" asked Agellius ; "who asked for your com- 
 pany?"^ 
 
 "I will come just when I please," said the other, 
 " and go when I please. I won't give an account of 
 my actions to any one, god or man, devil or priest, 
 much less to you. What right have you to ask 
 me?" 
 
 " Then," said Agellius, " you'll never get peace or 
 comfort as long as you live ; that I can tell you ; let 
 alone the life to come." 
 
 Juba kept silent for a while, and bit his nails with 
 a smile on his face, and his eyes looking askance upon 
 the ground. " I want no more than I have ; I am 
 well content," he said. 
 
 " Contented with yourself," retorted Agellius. 
 
 "Of course," Juba replied; " Avhom ought one to 
 wish rather to be contented with?" 
 
 "I suppose, with your Creator." 
 
 " Creator 1" answered Juba, tossing back his head 
 with an air of superiority ; " Creator ; — that, I con- 
 sider, is an assumption." 
 
 " O my dear brother," cried Agellius, " don't go on 
 in that dreadful way !" 
 
 " ' Go on!' who began? Is one man to lay down 
 the law, and not the other too ? is it so generally 
 received, this belief of a Creator? Who have 
 brought in the belief? the Christians. 'Tis the 
 Christians that began it. The world went on very 
 well without it before their rise. And now, who 
 began the dispute but you?" 
 
 "A¥ell, if I did,"* answered Agellius; "but I 
 didn't. You began in coming here; what in the 
 world are you come for ? by what right do you disturb 
 me at this hour?" 
 
26 CALLISTA ; 
 
 There was no appearance of anger in Juba ; ha 
 seemed as free from feeling of every kind, from Avhat 
 is called heart, as if he had been a stone. ' In answer 
 to his brother's question, he quietly said, " I have 
 been down there," pointing in the direction of the 
 woods. 
 
 An expression of sharp anguish passed over his 
 brother's face, and for a moment he was silent. At 
 length he said, "You don't mean to say you have 
 been down to poor mother ?" 
 
 "I do," said Juba. 
 
 There was again a silence for a little while ; then 
 Agellius renewed the conversation. " Ton have fallen 
 off sadly, Juba, in tlie course of the last several years.'* 
 
 Juba tossed his head, and crossed his legs. 
 
 " At one time I thought you would have been bap- 
 tized," his brother continued. 
 
 "That was my weakness," answered Juba; "it was 
 a weak moment: it was just after the old bishop's 
 death. He had been kind to me as a child ; and he 
 said some womanish words to me, and it was excusable 
 in me." 
 
 "0 that you had yielded to your wish!" cried 
 Agellius. 
 
 Juba looked superior. " The fit passed," he said. 
 " I have come to a juster view of things. It is not 
 every one who has the strength of mind. I consider 
 that a logical head comes to a very different conclu- 
 sion ;" and he began wagging his own, to the right 
 and left, as if it were coming to a great many. 
 
 " Well," said Agellius, gaping, and desiring at least 
 to come to a conclusion of the altercation, " what 
 brings you here so late ?" 
 
 " I was on my way to Jucundus," he answered, 
 " and have been delayed by the Succoth-benoth in the 
 grove across the river." 
 
 Here they were thrown back upon their controversy. 
 Agellius turned quite white. "My poor fellow," he 
 said, " what were you there for?" 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 27 
 
 " To see the world," answered Juba ; " it's un- 
 manly not to see it. Why shouldn't I see it ? It was 
 good fun. I despise them all, fools and idiots. There 
 they were, scampering about, or lying like logs, all in 
 liquor. Apes and swine ! However, I will do as 
 others do, if I please. I will be as drunk as they, 
 when I see good. I am my own master, and it would 
 be no kind of harm. 
 
 " No harm ! why, is it no liarm to become an ape or 
 a hog?" 
 
 "You don't take just views of human nature," an- 
 swered Juba with a self-satisfied air. " Our first 
 duty is to seek our own happiness. If a man thinks 
 it happier to be a hog, why let him be a hog," and he 
 laughed. "Tins is where you are narrow-minded. I 
 shall seek my own happiness, and try this way, if I 
 please." 
 
 "Happiness!" cried Agellius; "where have you 
 been picking up all this stuff? Can you call such 
 detestable filth happiness?" 
 
 "AVhat do you know about such matters?" asked 
 Juba. " Did you ever see them ? did you ever try 
 them ? You would be twice the man you are, if you 
 had. You will not be a man till you do. You are 
 carried off your legs in your own way. I'd rather get 
 drunk every day than fall down on all-fours as you do, 
 crawling on your stomach like a worm, and whining 
 like a hound that has been beaten." 
 
 " Now, as I live, you shan't stop here one instant 
 longer!" cried out Agellius, starting up. "Be off 
 with you! get away! what do you come here to blas- 
 pheme for? who wants you ? who asked for you ? Go! 
 go, I say! take yourself off! Why don't you go? 
 Keep your ribaldry for others." 
 
 "I am as good as you any day," said Juba. 
 
 " I don't set myself up," answered Agellius, " but it's 
 impossible to coiiibund Christian and unbeliever as you 
 do." 
 
28 CALLISTA ; 
 
 " Christian and unbeliever!" said Juba slowly. " I 
 suppose, when they are a-courting each other, they 
 are confounded." He looked hard at Ageliius, as if 
 he thought he had hit a blot. Then he continued, 
 " If I were a Christian, I'd be so in earnest ; else I'd 
 be an honest heathen." 
 
 Ageliius coloured somewhat, and sat down, as if 
 under embarrassment. 
 
 "I despise you," said Juba; "you have not the 
 pluck to be a Christian. Be consistent, and fizz upon 
 a stake; but you're not made of that stuff. You're 
 even afraid of uncle. Nay, you can be caught by 
 those painted wares, about which, when it suits your 
 purpose, you can be so grave. I despise you," he 
 continued, " I despise you, and the whole kit of you. 
 "What's the difference between you and another ? Your 
 people say, ' Earth's a vanity, life's a dream, riches a 
 deceit, pleasure a snare. Fratres charissimi, the time 
 is short ;' but who love earth, and life, and riches, and 
 pleasure better than they ? You are all of you as 
 fond of the world, as set upon gain, as chary of repu- 
 tation, as ambitious of power, as the jolly old heathen 
 who, you say, is goiug the way of the pit." 
 
 " It is one thing to have a conscience," answered 
 Ageliius, " another thing to act upon it. The con- 
 science of these poor people is darkened. You had a 
 conscience once." 
 
 "Conscience, conscience," said Juba. "Yes, cer- 
 tainly, once I had a conscience. Yes, and once I had 
 a bad chill, and went about chattering and shivering ; 
 and once I had a game leg, and then I went limping; 
 and so, you see, I once on a time had a conscience. 
 yes, I have had many consciences before now, 
 w4iite, black, yellow, and green : they were all bad ; 
 but they are all gone, and now I have none." 
 
 Ageliius said nothing ; his one wish, as may be 
 supposed, was to get rid of so unwelcome a vi- 
 sitor. 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 29 
 
 "The truth is," continued Juba, with the air of a 
 teacher, " the truth is, that religion was a fashion 
 with me, which is now gone by. It was the com- 
 plexion of a particular stage of my life. I was neither 
 the better nor the worse for it. It was an accident, 
 like the bloom on my face, which soon," he said, 
 spreading his fingers over his dirty-coloured cheeks, 
 and stroking them, "which soon will disappear. I 
 acted according to the feeling, while it lasted ; but I 
 can no more recal it than my first teeth, or the down 
 on my chin. It's among the things that were." 
 
 Agellius still keeping silence from weariness and 
 disgust, he looked at him in a significant way, and said 
 slowly, " I see how it is ; I have penetration enough 
 to perceive that you don't believe a bit more about 
 religion than I do." 
 
 " You must not say that under my roof," cried 
 Agellius, feeling he must not let his brother's charge 
 pass without a protest. " Many are my sins, but un- 
 belief is not one of them." 
 
 Juba tossed his head. " I think I can see through 
 a stone slab as well as any one," he said. "It is as I 
 have said ; but you're too proud to confess it. It's 
 part of your hypocrisy." 
 
 "We'll," said Agellius coldly, "let's have done. 
 It's getting late, Juba; you'll be missed at home. 
 Jucundus will be inquiring of you, and some of those 
 revelling friends of yours may do you a mischief by 
 the way. — Why, my good fellow," he continued 
 in surprise, "you have no leggings. The scorpions 
 will catch hold of you to a certainty in the dark. 
 Come, let me tie some straw wisps about you." 
 
 "No fear of scorpions for me," answered Juba; "I 
 have some real good amulets for the occasion, which 
 even hoola-Jcog and vffah will respect." 
 
 Saying this, he passed out of the room as uncere- 
 moniously as he had entered it, and took the direction 
 of the city, talking to himself, and singing snatches of 
 wild airs as he went along, throwing back and shaking 
 
30 CALLI9TA : 
 
 his head, and now and then uttering a sharp internal 
 laugh. Disdaining to follow the ordinary path, he 
 dived down into the thick and wet grass, and scram- 
 bled through the ravine, which the public road crossed 
 before it ascended the hill. Meanwhile he accompanied 
 his quickened pace with a louder strain, and it ran as 
 follows : — 
 
 "The little black Moor is the chap for me, 
 When the night is dark, and the earth is free, 
 Under the limbs of the broad yew-tree. 
 
 'Twas Father Cham that planted that yew, 
 And he fed it fat with the bloody dew 
 Of a score of brats, as his lineage grew. 
 
 Footing and flaunting it, all in the night, 
 Each lock flings fire, each heel strikes light ; 
 No lamps need they, whose breath is bright." 
 
 Here he was interrupted by a sudden growl, whicli 
 sounded almost under his feet ; and some wild animal 
 was seen to slink away. Juba showed no surprise ; 
 he had taken out a small metal idol, and whispering 
 some words to it, had presented it to the animal. He 
 clambered up the bank, gained the city gate, and 
 made his way for his uncle's dwelling, which was near 
 the temple of Astarte. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The house of Jucundus was closed for the night when 
 Juba reached it, or you would see, were you his com- 
 panion, that it was one of the most showy shops in 
 Sicca. It was the imnge-store of the place, and set 
 out for sale, not articles of statuary alone, but of me- 
 tal, of mosaic work, and of jewelry, as far as they were 
 dedicated to the service of paganism. It was bright 
 with the many colours adopted in the embellishment 
 of images, and the many lights which silver and gold, 
 brass and ivory, alabaster, gypsum, talc, and glass re- 
 flected. Shelves and cabinets were laden with wares; 
 both the precious material, and the elaborated trinket. 
 All tastes were suited, the popular and the refined, 
 the fiishion of the day and the love of the antique, the 
 classical and the barbarian devotion. There you might 
 see the rude symbols of invisible powers, which, origi- 
 nating in deficiency of art, had been perpetuated by 
 reverence for the past ; the mysterious cube of marble 
 sacred among the Arabs, the pillar which was the 
 emblem of Mercury or Bacchus, the broad-based cone 
 of Heliogabakis, the pyramid of Paphos, and the tile or 
 brick of Juno. There too were the unmeaning blodts 
 of stone with human heads, which were to be dressed 
 out in rich robes, and to simulate the human form. 
 There were other articles besides, as portable as these 
 were unmanageable ; little Junes, Mercuries, Dianas, 
 and Fortunes, for the bosom or the girdle. House- 
 
32 CALLISTA ; 
 
 hold gods were there, and the objects of personal 
 devotion, Minerva or Vesta, viith handsome niches or 
 shrines in which thej might reside. There too were 
 the brass crowns, or nimbi, which were intended to 
 protect the heads of the gods from bats and birds. 
 There you might buy, were you a heathen, rings with 
 heads on them of Jupiter, Mars, the Sun, Serapis, and 
 above all Astarte. You would find there the rings 
 and signets of the Basilidians ; amulets too of wood 
 or ivory ; figures of demons, preternaturally ugly ; 
 little skeletons, and other superstitious devices. It 
 would be hard, indeed, if you could not be pleased, 
 whatever your religious denomination, unless indeed 
 you were determined to reject all the appliances and 
 objects of idolatry indiscriminately ; and in that case 
 you would rejoice that it was night, when you arrived 
 there, and, in particular, that darkness swallowed up 
 other appliances and objects of pagan worsliip, which 
 to darkness were due by a peculiar title, and by dark- 
 ness were best shrouded, till the coming of that day, 
 when all things, good and evil, shall be made light. 
 
 The shop, as we have said, was closed ; concealed 
 from view by large lumbering shutters, and made 
 secure by heavy bars of wood. So we must enter by 
 the passage or vestibule on the right side, and that 
 will conduct us into a modest atrium, with an implu' 
 vium on one side, and on the other the triclinium or 
 supper-room, backing the shop. Jucundus had been 
 pleasantly engaged in a small supper-party ; and, 
 mindful that a symposium should lie within the num- 
 ber of the Graces and of the Muses, he had confined 
 his guests to two, the young G-reek Aristo, who was 
 one of his principal artists, and Cornelius, the son of a 
 freedman of aEoman of distinction, who had lately got 
 a place in one of the scrinia of the proconsular oj/icium, 
 and had migrated into the province froui the imperial 
 city, where he had spent his best days. 
 
 The dinner had not been altogether suitable to 
 modern ideas of good living. The grapes from Tacape, 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 33 
 
 and the dates from the lake Tritonis, the white and 
 black figs, the nectarines and peaches, and the water- 
 melons, address themselves to the imagination of an 
 Englishman, as well as of an African of the third cen- 
 tury. So also might the liquor derived from the. sap 
 or honey of the Getulian palm, and the sweet wine, 
 called melilotus, made from the poetical fruit found 
 upon the coasts of the Syrtis. He would have been 
 struck too Avith the sweetness of the mutton ; but he 
 would have asked what the sheep's tails were before 
 he tasted them, and found how like marrow the firm 
 substance ate, of which they consisted. He would 
 have felt he ought to admire the roes of mullets, 
 pressed and dried, from Mauretania ; but he would 
 have thought twice before he tried the lion cutlets, 
 though they had the flavour of veal, and the addi- 
 tional gotit of being imperial property, and poached 
 from a preserve. I^ut, when he saw the indigenous 
 dish, the very haggis and cock-a-leeIi.ie of Africa, in 
 the shape of — (alas ! alas ! it must be said, with what- 
 ever apology for its introduction) — in shape, then, of 
 a delicate pnppy, served up with tomatas, with its 
 head between its fore-paws, we consider he would 
 have risen from the unlioly table, and thought he had 
 fallen upon the hospitality of some sorceress of the 
 neighbouring forest. However, to that festive board 
 our Briton was not invited, for he had some previous 
 engagement that evening, either of painting himself 
 with woad, or of hiding himself to the chin in the fens ; 
 so that nothing occurred to disturb the harmony of 
 the party, and the good humour and easy conversa- 
 tion which was the eifect of such excellent cheer. 
 
 Cornelius had been present at the Secular Grames in 
 'the foregoing year, and was full of them, of Home, and 
 of himself in connexion with it, as became so genuine 
 a cockney of the imperial period. He was ftdl of the 
 high patriotic thoughts which "so solemn a celebration 
 had kindled within him. " great Ivome!" he said, 
 "thou art first, and there is no second. In that won- 
 
 D 
 
34 CALLISTA ; 
 
 derful pageant whicli these eyes saw last year -was 
 embodied her majesty, was promised her eternity. AVe 
 die, she lives. 1 say, let a man die. It's well for him 
 to take hemlock, or open a vein, after having seen the 
 secular games. What was there to live for ? I felt 
 it ; life was gone ; its best gifts flat and insipid after 
 that great day. Excellent — Tauromenian, I suppose ? 
 We know it in Kome. Fill up my cup. 1 drink to 
 the genius of the emperor." 
 
 He was full of his subject, and soon resumed it. 
 " Fancy the Campus Martins lighted up from one end 
 to the other. It was the finest thing in the world. A 
 large plain, covered, not with streets, not with woods, 
 but broken and crossed with superb buildings in the 
 midst of groves, avenues of trees, and green grass 
 down to the water's edge. There's nothing that isn't 
 there. Do you want the grandest temples in the 
 world, the most spacious porticoes, the longest race- 
 courses ? there they are. Do you want gymnasia 'f 
 there they are. Do you want arches, statues, obelisks ? 
 you find them there. There you have at one end the 
 stupendous mausoleum of Augustus, cased with white 
 marble, and just across the river the huge towering 
 mound of Hadrian. At the other end you have the 
 noble Pantheon of Agrippa, with its splendid Syra- 
 cusan columns, and its dome glittering with silver 
 tiles. Hard by are the baths of Alexander^ with their 
 beautiful groves. Ah, my good friend ! I shall have uo 
 time to drink, if I go on. Beyond are the numerous 
 chapels and fanes which fringe the base of the Capi- 
 toline hill ; the tall column of Antoninus comes next, 
 with its adjacent basilica, where is kept the authentic 
 list of the provinces of the empire, and of the govern- 
 ors, each a king in power and dominion, who are 
 sent out to them. AVell, I am now only beginning. 
 Fancy, I say, this magnificent region all lighted up ; 
 e\'ery temple to and fro, every bath, every grove, 
 gleaming with innumerable lamps and torches. Iso, 
 not even the gods of Olympus have any thing that 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIED CENTURY. 85 
 
 comes near ifc. Eome is the greatest of all divinities. 
 In the dead of night all was alive ; then it \Yas, when 
 nature sleeps exhausted, Eome began the solemn 
 sacrifices to commemorate her thousand years. On the 
 banks of the Tiber, which had seen ^neas land, and 
 Eomulus ascend to the gods, the clear red flame shot 
 up as the victims burned. The music of ten thousand 
 horns and flutes burst forth, and the sacred dances 
 began upon the greensward. I am too old to dance ; 
 but, I protest, even I stood up and threw ofl[*. We 
 danced through three nights, dancing the old mil- 
 lenary out, dancing the new millenary in. We 
 were all Eomans, no strangers, no slaves. It was a 
 solemn family feast, the feast of all the Eomans." 
 
 " Then we came in for the feast," said Aristo ; " for 
 Caracalla gave Eoraan citizenship to all freemen all 
 over the world. AVe are all of us Eomans, recollect, 
 Cornelius." 
 
 " Ah ! that was another matter, a condescension," 
 answered Cornelius. " Yes, in a certain sense, I 
 grant it ; but it was a political act " 
 
 "I warrant you," retorted Aristo, "most political. 
 "We were to be fleeced, do you see ? so your imperial 
 government made us Eomans, that we might have the 
 taxes of Eomans, and that in addition to our own. 
 You've taxed us double ;. and as for the privilege of 
 citizenship, much it is, by Hercules, when every snob 
 has it who can wear a jnleus or cherish his hair." 
 
 " Ah ! but you should have seen the procession from 
 the Capitol," continued Cornelius, " on, I think, the 
 second day ; from the Capitol to the Circus, all down 
 the Via Sacra. Hosts of strangers there, and provincials 
 from the four corners of the earth, but not in the pro- 
 cession. There you saw all in one coup-cVoeil the real 
 good blood of Eome, the young blood of the new gene- 
 ration, and promise of the future ; the sons of patrician 
 and consular families, of imperators, orators, conquer- 
 ors, statesmen. They rodo at the head of the pro- 
 cession, line young fellows, six abreast ; and still more 
 D 2 
 
36 CALLISTA ; 
 
 of them on foot. Then came the running horses and 
 the chariots, the boxers, wrestlers, and other com- 
 batants, all ready for the competition. The whole 
 school of gladiators then turned out, boys and all, with 
 their masters, dressed in red tunics, and splendidly 
 armed. They formed three bands, and they went for- 
 ward gaily, dancing and singing the Pyrrhic. By-the- 
 bye, a thousand pair of gladiators fought during the 
 games, a round thousand, and such clean-made, well- 
 built fellows, and they came against each other so 
 gallantly ! Tou should have seen it ; I can't go 
 through it. There was a lot of satyrs, jumping and 
 frisking, in burlesque of the martial dances which pre- 
 ceded them. There was a crowd of trumpeters and 
 horn-blowers ; ministers of the sacrifices with their 
 victims, bulls and rams, dressed up with gay wreaths ; 
 drivers, butchers, haruspices, heralds ; images of gods 
 with their cars of ivory or of silver, drawn by tame 
 lions and elephants. I can't recollect the order. O ! 
 but the grandest thing of all was the Carmen, sung by 
 twenty-seven noble youths, and as many noble maidens, 
 taken for the purpose from the bosoms of their families 
 to propitiate the gods of Eome. The flamens, augurs, 
 colleges of priests, it was endless. Last all of came the 
 emperor himself." 
 
 " That's the late man," observed Jucundus, " Philip ; 
 no bad riddance his death if all's true that's said of 
 him." 
 
 "All emperors are good in their time and way," 
 answered Cornelius ; " Philip was good then, and 
 Decius is good now; — whom the gods preserve !" 
 
 "True," said Aristo, "I understand; an emperor 
 cannot do wrong, except in dying, and then every 
 thing goes wrong with him. His death is his first 
 bad deed ; he ought to be ashamed of it ; it somehow 
 turns all his great virtues iuto vices." 
 
 " Ah ! no one was so good an emperor as our man, 
 Gordianus," said Jucundus, " a princely old man, 
 living and dead. Patron of trade, and of the artsj 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 37 
 
 such villas ! he had enormous revenues. Poor old 
 gentleman ! and his son too. I never shall forget the 
 day when the news came that he was gone. Let 
 me see, it was shortly after that old fool Strabo's 
 death, — I mean my brother; a good thirteen years 
 ago. All Africa was in tears ; there was no one like 
 Grordianus." 
 
 " That's old world's philosophy," said Aristo ; " Ju- 
 cundus, you must go to school. Don't you see that 
 all that is, is right ; and all that was, is wrong ? 
 'Te nos facimus, Eortuna, deam\' says your poet; 
 well, I drink ' to the fortune of Eome,' — while it 
 lasts." 
 
 "You're a young man," answered Cornelius, "a 
 very young man, and a Greek. Greeks never under- 
 stand Eome. It's most difficult to understand us. 
 It's a science. Look at this medal, young gentle- 
 man ; it was one of those struck at the games. Is it 
 not grand ? ' Novum saeculum ;' and on the reverse, 
 'JEternitati.' Always changing, always imierisbable. 
 Emperors rise and fall ; Eome remains. Tiie eternal 
 city ! Isn't this good philosophy ?" 
 
 "Truly, a most beautiful medal," said Aristo, ex- 
 amining it, and handing it on to his host. " Tou 
 might make an amulet of it, Jacundus. But as to 
 eternity, wby it is a very great word ; and if I mistake 
 not, other states have been eternal before Eome. Ten 
 centuries is a very respectable eternity ; be content, 
 Eome is eternal already, and may die without preju- 
 dice to the medal." 
 
 "Blaspheme not," replied Cornelius; "Eome is 
 healthier, more full of life, and promises more, than at 
 any former time, you may rely upon it. 'Nov^mi 
 sflDculum!' she has the age of the eagle, and will but 
 cast her feathers to begin a fresh thousand." 
 
 "But Egypt," interposed Aristo, "if old Herodo- 
 tus speaks true, scarcely had a beginning. Up and up. 
 
 1 " We make thee, O Fortune, a goddess." 
 
38 OALLISTA ; 
 
 the higher you do go, the more dynasties of Egyptian 
 Kings do you find. And we hear strange reports of 
 the nations in the far east, beyond the Granges." 
 
 "But I tell you, man," rejoined Cornelius, "Eome 
 is a city of kings. That one city, in this one year, 
 has as many kings at once as those of all the kings 
 of all the dynasties of Egypt put together. Sesostris, 
 and the rest of them, what are they to imperators, 
 prefects, proconsuls, vicarii, and rationales ? Look 
 back at Lucullus, Caesar, Pompey, Sylla, Titus, Trajan. 
 What's old Cheops's pyramid to the Flavian amphi- 
 theatre ? "What is the many-gated Thebes to JSTero's 
 golden house, while it was ? Wbat the grandest 
 palace of Sesostris or Ptolemy but a second-rate 
 villa of one of ten thousand Eoman citizens ? Our 
 houses stand on acres of ground ; they ascend as high 
 as the tower of Babylon; they swarm with cokuuns 
 like a forest; they pullulate into statues and pictures. 
 The walls, pavements, and ceilings are dazzling from 
 the lustre of the rarest marble, red and yellow, green 
 and mottled. Fountains of perfumed water shoot 
 aloft from the floor, and fish swim in rocky channels 
 round about the room, waiting to be caught and killed 
 for the banquet. We dine ; and we feast on the head 
 of the ostrich, the brains of the peacock, the liver of 
 the bienm, the milk of the murena, and the tongue of 
 the flamingo. A swarm of doves, nightingales, becca- 
 ficos are concentrated into one dish. On great occa- 
 sions we eat a phoenix. Our saucepans are of silver, 
 our dishes of gold, our vases of onyx, and our cups of 
 precious stones. Hangings and carpets of Tyrian 
 purple are around us and beneath us, and we lie on 
 ivory couches. The choicest wines of Greece and 
 Italy crown our goblets, and exotic flowers crown our 
 heads. In come troops of dancers from Lydia, or 
 pantomimes from Alexandria, to entertain both eye 
 and mind; or our noble dames and maidens take a 
 place at our tables; they wash in asses' milk, they 
 dress by mirrors as large as fish-ponds, and they 
 
A SEETCn OF THE THIED CENTURY. 39 
 
 glitter from head to foot with combs, brooches, r.eck- 
 laces, collars, ear-rings, armlets, bracelets, iinger-rir.gs, 
 girdles, stomachers, and anklets, all of diamond and 
 emerald. Our slaves may be counted by thousands, 
 and they come from all parts of the world. Every 
 thing rare and precious is brought to Rome: the gam 
 of Arabia, the iiard of Assyria, the papyrus of Egypt, 
 the citron-wood of Mauretania, the bronze of iEgina, 
 the pearls of Britain, the cloth of gold of Phrygia, 
 the fine webs of Cos, the embroidery of Babylon, the 
 silks of Persia, the lion-skins of Getulia, the wool of 
 Miletus, the plaids of Gaul, Thus we live, an impe- 
 rial people, who do nothing but enjoy themselves, and 
 keep festival the whole year ; and at length we die, — 
 and then we burn: we burn, — in stacks of cinnamon 
 and cassia, and in shrouds of ashfistos, making empha- 
 tically a good end of it. Such are we Eomans, a great 
 people. Why, we are honoured wherever we go. 
 There's my master, there's myself; as ^xe came here 
 iVom Italy, I protest we were nearly worshipped as 
 demigods." 
 
 "And perhaps some fine morning," said Aristo, 
 " Eome herself will burn in cinnamon and cassia, and 
 in all her burnished Corinthian brass and scarlet 
 bravery, the old mother following her children to tlie 
 funeral pyre. One has heard something of Babylon, 
 and its drained moat, and the soldiers of the Per- 
 sian." 
 
 A pause occurred in the conversation, as one of 
 Jucundus's slaves entered with fresh wine, larger 
 goblets, and a vase of snow from the Atlas. 
 
40 cailista; 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CoETfELiirs was full of his subject, and did not attend 
 to the Greek. "The wild-beast hunts," he con- 
 tinued, " ah, those hunts during the games, Aristo ! 
 they were a spectacle for the gods. Twenty-two 
 elephants, ten panthers, ten hyenas (by-the-bye, a new 
 beast, not strange, however, to you here, I suppose), 
 ten camelopards, an hippopotamus, a rhinoceros — I 
 can't go through the list. Taney the circus planted 
 throughout for the occasion, and turned into a park, 
 and then another set of wild animals, Getes and Sar- 
 matians, Celts and Goths, sent in against them, to 
 hunt down, capture, and kill them, or to be killed 
 themselves." 
 
 "Ah, the Goths!" answered Aristo; "those fel- 
 lows give you trouble, though, now and then. Per- 
 haps they will give you more. There is a report 
 in the prsetorium to-day, that the}^ have crossed the 
 Danube." 
 
 "Yes, they loill give us trouble," said Cornelius 
 drily ; " they have given us trouble, and they will give 
 us more. The Samnites gave us trouble, and our triends 
 of Carthage here, and Jugurtha, and Mithridates; 
 trouble, yes, that is the long and the short of it; 
 they will give us trouble. Is trouble a new thing 
 to Home?" he asked, stretching out his arm as if 
 he were making a speech after dinner, and giving a 
 toast. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 41 
 
 "The Goths give trouble, and take a bribe," re- 
 torted Aristo ; " this is what trouble means in this 
 case ; it's a troublesome fellow who hammers at our 
 door till we pay his reckoning. It is troublesome to 
 raise the means to buy them off. And the example 
 of these troublesome savages is catching ; it was lately 
 rumoured that the Carpians had been asking the 
 same terms for keeping quiet." 
 
 " It would ill become the majesty of Eome to soil 
 her fingers with the blood of such vermin," said Cor- 
 nelius ; " she ignores them." 
 
 "And therefore she most majestically bleeds ua 
 instead," answered Aristo, " that she may have trea- 
 sure to give them. "We are not so troublesome as 
 they; the more's the pity. No offence to you, however, 
 or to the emperor, or to great Eome, Cornelius. We 
 are over our cups ; it's only a game of politics, you 
 know, like chess or the cottabus. Maro bids you 
 * parcere subjectis, et debellare superbos ' ;' but you 
 have changed your manners. Tou coax the Goths 
 and bully the poor African." 
 
 " Africa can show fight, too," interposed Jucundus, 
 who had been calmly listening and enjoying his own 
 wine ; " witness Thysdrus. That was giving every 
 rapacious Quaestor a lesson that he may go too far, 
 and find a dagger when he demands a purse." 
 
 He was alluding to the revolt of Africa, which led 
 to the downfal of the tyrant Maxirain and the exalta- 
 tion of the Gordians, when the native landlords armed 
 their peasantry, killed the imperial officer, and raised 
 the standard of rebellion in the neighbouring town from 
 impatience of exactions under which they suffered. 
 
 " No oft'ence, I say, Cornelius, no oflFence to eternal 
 Eome," said Aristo, "but you have explained to us 
 why you weigh so heavy on us. I've always heard 
 it was a fortune at Eome to the man who found out a 
 new tax. Vespasian did his best ; but now you tax 
 
 1 " To spare the subject, and lay low the stubborn." 
 
42 CALLISTi. ; 
 
 our smoke, and our very shadow; and Pescenniu^ threat- 
 ened to tax the air we breathe. AVe'll plaj at riddles, 
 and you shall solve the following :— Say who is she 
 that eats her own limbs, and grows eternal upon them ? 
 Ah, the Goths will take the measure of her eternity !" 
 
 "The Goths!" said Jucundus, who was warming 
 into conversational life, " the Goths ! no fear of the 
 Goths; but," and he nodded significantly, "look at 
 home; we have more to fear indoors than abroad." 
 
 " He means the praetorians," said Cornelius to 
 Aristo condescendingly ; " I grant you that there have 
 been several untoward affairs ; we have had our pro- 
 blem, but it's a thing of the past, it never can come 
 again. I venture to say that the power of the prae- 
 torians is at an end. That murder of the two em- 
 perors the other day was the worst job they ever did ; 
 it has turned the public opinion of the whole world 
 against them. I have no fear of the praetorians." 
 
 " I don't mean praetorians more than Goths," said 
 Jucundus : " no, give me the old weapons, the old 
 maxims of Eorae, and I defy the scythe of Saturn. Do 
 the soldiers ^narch under the old ensigns ? do they 
 swear by the old gods ? do they interchange the good 
 old signals and watchwords ? do they worship the 
 fortune of Home ? then I say we are safe. But do 
 we take to new ways ? do we trifle with religion ? do 
 we make light of Jupiter, Mars, liomulus, the augurs, 
 and the ancilia? then, I say, not all our shows and 
 games, our elephants, hyenas, and hippopotamuses, 
 will do us any good. It was not the best thing, no, 
 not the best tiling that the soldiers did, when they 
 invested that Philip with the purple. But he is dead 
 and gone." And he sat up, and leaned on his elbow. 
 
 "Ah! but it will be all set right now," said Corne- 
 lius, '' yoiill see." 
 
 " He'd be a reformer, that Pliilip," continued Ju- 
 cundus, " and put down an enormity. AVell, they call 
 it an enormity ; let it be an enormity. He'd put it 
 down ; but why ? there's the point ; why ? It's no 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 43 
 
 secret at all," and his voice grew angry, "that that 
 hoary-headed atlieist Eabius was at the bottom of it ; 
 Tabius the Christian. I hate reforms." 
 
 " Wei], we liad long wished to do it," answered 
 Cornelius, " but could not manage it. Alexander 
 attempted it near twenty years ago. It's what phi- 
 losophers have always aimed at." 
 
 "The gods consume philosophy and the Christians 
 together!" said Jucundus devoutly. "There's little 
 to choose between them, except that the Christians are 
 the filthier animal of the two. But both are ruining 
 the most glorious political structure that the world 
 ever saw. I am not over-fond of Alexander." 
 
 "Thank you in the name of philosophy," said the 
 Greek. 
 
 " And thank you in the name of the Christians," 
 chimed in Juba. 
 
 "That's good!" cried Jucundus ; "the first word 
 that hopeful youth has spoken since he came in, and 
 he takes on him to call himself a Christian." 
 
 " I've a right to do so, if I choose," said Juba ; 
 " I've a right to be a Christian." 
 
 "l^ight! yes, right! ha, ha!" answered Jucun- 
 dus, " right ! Jove help the lad ! by all manner of 
 means. Of course, you have a right to go in malam 
 rem iu whatever way you please " 
 
 "I am my own master," said Juba; "my father 
 was a Christian. I suppose it depends on myself to 
 follow him or not, according to my fancy, and as long 
 as I think fit." 
 
 "Fancy! think fit!" answered Jucundus, "you 
 pompous little mule ! Yes, go and be a Christian, my 
 dear child, as your doting lather went. Go, like him, 
 to the priest of their mysteries ; be spit on, stripped, 
 dipped ; feed on little boys' marrow and brains ; 
 worship the ass ; and learn all the foul magic of the 
 sect. And then be delated, and taken up, and torn to 
 shreds on the rack, or thrown to the lions, and so go 
 to Tartarus, if Tartarus there be, in the w^ay you think 
 
44 CALLISTA ; 
 
 fit. You'll harm none but yourself, my boy. I don't 
 fear such as you, but the deeper heads." 
 
 Juba stood up with a look of oifended dignity, and, 
 as on former occasions, tossed the head which had been 
 by implication disparaged. "I despise you," he said. 
 
 "Well, but you are hard on the Christians," said^ 
 Aristo. " I have heard them maintain that their su- 
 perstition, if adopted, would be the salvation of Eome. 
 They maintain that the old religion is gone or going 
 out ; that something new is wanted to keep the 
 empire together ; and that their worship is just fitted 
 to the times." 
 
 " All I say to the vipers," said Jucundus, " is, ' Let 
 well alone. We did well enough without you; we 
 did well enough till you sprang up.' A plague on their 
 insolence ! as if Jew or Egyptian could do aught for 
 us, when Numa and the Sibyl fail. This is what I say, 
 let Rome be true to herself, and nothing can harm 
 her ; let her shift her foundation, and I would not buy 
 her for this water-melon," he said, taking a suck at it. 
 "!Rome alone can harm Eome. Eecollect old Horace, 
 * Suis et ipsa Eoma viribus ruit ^' He was a prophet. 
 If she falls, it is by her own hand." 
 
 "I agree," said Cornelius; "certainly, to set up 
 any new worship is treason ; not a doubt of it. The 
 gods keep us from such ingratitude ! We have grown 
 great by means of them, and they are part and parcel 
 of the law of Eome. But there is no great chance of 
 our forgetting this ; Decius won't ; that's a fact. You 
 will see. Time will show; perhaps to-morrow, per- 
 haps next day," he added mysteriously. 
 
 "Why in the world should you have this frantic 
 dread of these poor scarecrows of Christians," said 
 Aristo, " all because they hold an opinion ? AVhy are 
 you not afraid of the bats and the moles ? It's an 
 opinion : there have been other opinions before them, 
 and there will be other opinions after. Let them 
 
 2 " And Rome falls by her own powers." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUBY. 45 
 
 alone, aud tliey'll die away ; make a hubbub about 
 them, and they'll spread." 
 
 " Spread ?" cried Jucundus, who was under the two- 
 fold excitement of personal feeling and of wine, "spread, 
 they'll spread ? yes, they'll spread. Yes,grow, like scor- 
 pions, twenty at a birth. The country already swarms 
 with them ; they are as many as frogs or grasshoppers ; 
 they start up every where under one's nose, when one 
 least expects them. The air breeds them like plague- 
 flies ; the wind drifts them like locusts. No one's 
 safe ; any one may be a Christian ; it's an epidemic. 
 Great Jove ! I may be a Christian before I know 
 where I am. Heaven and earth ! is it not mon- 
 strous ?" he continued, with increasing fierceness. 
 " Yes, Jucundus, my poor man, you may wake and 
 find yourself a Christian, without knowing it, against 
 your will. Ah, my friends, pity me ! I may find myself 
 a beast, and obliged to suck blood and live among the 
 tombs, as if I liked it, without power to tell you how 
 I loathe it, all through their sorcery. By the genius 
 of Kome, something must be done. I say, no one is 
 safe. You call on your friend ; he is sitting in the 
 dark, unwashed, uncombed, undressed. What is the 
 matter ? Ah ! his son has turned Christian. Your 
 wedding-day is fixed, you are expecting your bride ; 
 she does not come ; why ? she will not have you ; she 
 has become a Christian. "Where's young Nomen- 
 tanus ? Who has seen Nomentanus ? in the forum 
 or the campus, in the circus, in the bath ? Has he 
 caught the plague, or got a sunstroke ? Nothing of the 
 kind ; the Christians have caught hold of him. Young 
 and old, rich and poor, my lady in her litter and her 
 slave, modest maid and Lydia at the Thermae, nothing 
 comes amiss to them. All confidence is gone ; there's 
 no one we can reckon on. I go to my tailor's: 
 ' JSTergal,' I say to' him, ' Nergal, I want a new tunic' 
 The wretched hypocrite bows, and runs to and fro, and 
 unpacks his stuffs and cloths, like another man. A 
 
46 CALLISTA ; 
 
 word in your ear. The man's a Christian, dressed 
 up like a tailor. They have no dress of their own. 
 If I were emperor, I'd make the sneaking curs wear a 
 badge, I would; a dog's collar, a fox's tail, or a pair 
 of ass's ears. Then we should know friends from 
 foes w-hen we meet them." 
 
 "We should think that daugerous," said Cornelius ; 
 " however, you are taking it too much to heart ; you 
 are making too much of them, my good friend. They 
 have not even got the present, and you are giving 
 them the future, which is just what they want." 
 
 "If Jucundus will listen to me," said Aristo, "I 
 could satisfy him that the Christians are actually 
 falling off. They once were numerous in this very- 
 place ; now^ there are hardly any. They have been 
 declining for these fifty years ; the danger from them 
 is past. Do you want to know how to revive them ? 
 put out an imperial edict, forbid them, denounce them. 
 Do you want them to drop away like autumn leaves ? 
 take no notice of them. 
 
 "I can't deny that in Italy they have grown," said 
 Cornelius ; " they have grown in numbers and in 
 wealth, and they intermarry with us. Thus the upper 
 class becomes to a certain extent infected. "We may 
 find it necessary to repress them ; but, as you would 
 repress vermin, without fearing them." 
 
 " The worshippers of the gods are the many, and 
 the Christians are the few," persisted Aristo ; " if the 
 two parties intermarry, the weaker will get the worst 
 of it. You will find the statues of the gods gradually 
 creeping back into the Christian chapel ; and a man 
 must be an honest fellow who buys our images, eh, 
 Jucundus ?" 
 
 " Well, Aristo," said the paterfimiilias, wliose 
 violence never lasted long, " if your sister's bright 
 eyes win back my poor Agellius, you will have some- 
 thing more to say for yourself than at present, I grant." 
 
 "I see," said Cornelius gravely, "I begin to under- 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTUET. 47 
 
 stand it. I could not make ont why our good host had 
 such great fear for the stability of Eome. But it is 
 one of those things which the experience of life has 
 taught me. I have often seen it in the imperial 
 city itself. Whenever you find a man show special 
 earnestness against these fanatics, depend on it there 
 is something that touches him personally in the 
 matter. There was a very great man, the present 
 riamen Dialis, for whom I have unbounded respect ; 
 for a long time I was at a loss to conceive why a 
 person of his weight, sound, sensible, well-judging, 
 should have such a fear of the Christians. One day 
 he made an oration against them in the senate-house; 
 he wanted to send them to the rack. But the secret 
 came out; the good man was on the rack himself 
 about his daughter, who persisted in calling herself 
 a Christian, and refused to paint her face, or go to the 
 amphitheatre. To be sure, a most trying affair this 
 for the old gentleman. The venerable Pater Patratus, 
 too, what suppers he gave ! a fine specimen of the 
 Lucullus type ; yet he wns always advocating the 
 lictor and the commenfariensis in the instance of the 
 Christians. No wonder; his wife and son were dis- 
 gracing him in tlie eyes of the whole world by fre- 
 quenting the miCetings of the Christians. However, 
 1 agree with Decius, they must be put down. They 
 are not formidable, but they are an eyesore." 
 
 Here the rushing of the water-clock, which mea- 
 sured time in the neighbouring square, ceased, signify- 
 ing thereby that the night was getting on. Juba had 
 already crept into the dark closet which served Iiim 
 for a sleeping-place ; had taken off" his sandals, and 
 loosened his belt ; had wrapt the serpent he had about 
 him round his neck, and was breathing heavily. Ju- 
 cundus made the parting libation, and Cornelius took 
 his leave. Aristo rose too ; and Jucundus, accom- 
 panying them to the entrance, paid the not uncommon 
 penalty of his potations, ibr the wine mounted to his 
 head, and he returned into the room, and sat him 
 
48 CALLISTA ; 
 
 down again with an impression that Aristo was still 
 at table. 
 
 "My dear boy," he said, "Agelliiis is but a wet 
 Christian ; that's all, not obstinate, like his brother 
 there. 'T was his father; the less we say about him 
 the better ; he's gone. The Furies make his bed for 
 him ! an odious set. Their priests, little ugly men. 
 I saw one when I was a boy at Carthage. So unlike 
 your noble Eoman Saliares, or your fine portly priest 
 of Isis, clad in white, breathing odours, like spring 
 flowers ; men who enjoyed this life, not like that sour 
 hypocrite. He was as black as an Ethiopian, and as 
 withered as a Saracen, and he never looked you in the 
 face. And, after all, the fellow must die for his reli- 
 gion, rather than put a few grains of golden incense 
 on the altar of great Jove. Jove's the god for me ; 
 a glorious, handsome, curly god ; — but they are all 
 good ; all the gods are good. There's Bacchus, he's a 
 good, comfortable god, though a sly, treacherous fel- 
 low, — a treacherous fellow. There's Ceres too ; Po- 
 mona ; the Muses ; Astarte too, as they call her here ; 
 all good ;— and Apollo, though he's somewhat too hot in 
 this season, and too free with his bow. He gave me a 
 bad fever once. Ah ! life's precious, most precious ; 
 so I felt it then, when I was all but gone to Pluto. 
 Life never returns; it's like water spilt; you can't 
 gather it up. It is dispersed into the elements, to 
 the four winds. Ah ! there's something more there 
 than I can tell ; more than all your philosophers can 
 determine." 
 
 He seemed to think awhile, and began again: 
 " Enjoyment's the great rule ; ask yourself, ' Have I 
 made the most of things?' that's what I say to the 
 rising generation. Many and many's the time when 
 I have not turned them to the best account. O ! if I 
 had now to begin life again, how many things should I 
 correct ! I might have done better this evening. 
 Those abominable pears ! I miglit have known they 
 would not be worth the eating. INIutton, that was all 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 49 
 
 well ; doves, good again ; crane, kid ; ^Yell, I don't see 
 that I could have done much better." 
 
 After a few minutes he got up half asleep, and put 
 out all the lights but one small lamp, with which he 
 made his way into his own bed-closet. " All is vanity," 
 he continued with a slow, grave utterance, "all 13 
 vanity but eating and drinking. It does not pay to 
 serve tlic gods, except for this. AYhat's fame ? what's 
 glory? what's power? smoke. I've often thought 
 the hog is the only really wise animal. AVe should 
 be happier if we were all hogs. Hogs keep the end of 
 life steadily in view ; that's why those toads of Chris- 
 tians will not eat them, lest they should get like them. 
 Quiet, respectable, sensible enjoyment; not riot, or 
 revel, or excess, or quarrelling. Life is short." And. 
 with this undeniable sentiment he fell asleep. 
 
50 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 N'ext morning, as Jucundns was dusting a-nd polisli- 
 iiig his statues and other articles of taste and devotion, 
 supplying the gaps in their ranks, and grouping a 
 number of new ones which had come in from his work- 
 men, Juba strutted into the shop, and indulged him- 
 self from time to time in an inward laugh or snigger 
 at the various specimens of idolatry which grinned, or 
 frowned, or frisked, or languished on all sides of him. 
 
 "Don't sneer at that Anubis," said his uncle; "it 
 is the work of the divine Callista." 
 
 " That, I suppose, is why she brings into existence 
 so many demons," answered Juba; "nothing more 
 can be done in the divine line ; like the queen who fell 
 in loA'e with a baboon." 
 
 " Now I come to think," retorted Jucundus, " that 
 god of hers is something like you. She must be in 
 love with you, Juba." 
 
 The youth, as was usual with him, tossed his head 
 with an air of lofty displeasure ; at length he said, 
 " And why should she not fall in love with me, 
 pray?" 
 
 " Why, because you are too good or too bad to 
 need her plastic hand. She could not make any thing 
 out of you. 'Non ex quovis ligno '.' But she'd be 
 doing a good work if she wiled back your brother." 
 
 * " You cannot make a silk purse," &c. 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIEI) CEXTUET. 51 
 
 ^^ He does not want wiling any more than I," said 
 Juba, "/dare say! he's no Christian." 
 
 " AYhat's that?" said his uncle, looking round at 
 him in surprise ; " Agellius no Christian ?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it," answered Juba; "rest assured. 
 I taxed him with it only last night ; let him alone, 
 he'll come round. He's too proud to change, that's all. 
 Preach to him, entreat him, worry him, try to turn 
 him, work at the bit, whip him, and he will turn res- 
 tive, start aside, or run away ; but let him have his 
 head, pretend not to look, seem indifferent to the 
 whole matter, and he will quietly sit down in the 
 midst of your images there. Callista has an easy task ; 
 she'll bribe him to do what he would else do for 
 nothing." 
 
 " The very best news I have heard since your silly old 
 father died," cried Jucundus; " the very best, — if true. 
 Juba, I'll give you a handsome present the first sow 
 your brother sacrifices to Ceres. Ha, ha, what fine fun 
 to see the young farmer over his cups at the Xundinse ! 
 I could teach the boy a trick or two. Ha, ha ! no 
 Christian ! bravo, Juba ! I'll make you a present, an 
 Apollo to teach you manners, or a Mercury to give 
 you wit." 
 
 "It's quite true," said Juba, "he would not be 
 thinking of Callista, if he were thinking of his sahits 
 and angels." 
 
 "Ha, ha! to be sure!" returned Jucundus; "to 
 be sure ! yet why shouldn't he worship a handsome 
 Greek girl as well as any of those mummies and 
 death's heads and bogies of his, which I should blush 
 to put up here alongside even of Anubis or a scara- 
 bseus?" 
 
 " Mother thinks she is not altogether the girl you 
 take her for," said his nephew. 
 
 " jSTo matter, no matter," answered Jucundus, " no 
 matter at all ; she may be a Lais or Phryne for me ; 
 the surer to make a man of him." 
 e2 
 
52 CALLISTA ; 
 
 "Why," said Juba, "mother thinks her head is 
 turning in the opposite way. D'you see ? Strange, 
 isn't it?" he added, annoyed himself, yet not unvvili- 
 ing to annoy his uncle. 
 
 "Hm!" exclaimed Jucundus, making a Avry face, 
 as if to say, '• What on earth is going to turn up 
 now?" 
 
 " To tell the truth," said Juba gloomily, " I did 
 once think of her myself. I don't see why I have not 
 as much right to do so as Agellius, if I please. So I 
 thought old mother might do something for me ; and 
 I asked her for a charm or love-potion, which would 
 bring her from her brother down to the forest yonder. 
 Gurta took to it kindly, for she has a mortal hatred of 
 Callista, because of her good looks, though she won't 
 say so, and because she's a Greek ; and she liked the 
 notion of humbling the haughty minx. So she began 
 one of the most tremendous spells," he shrieked out 
 with a laugh, " one of the most tremendous spells in 
 her whole budget. All and every thing in the most 
 exact religious way : wine, milk, blood, meal, wax, old 
 rags, gods, Numidian as well as Punic ; such names ; 
 one must be barbarian to boot, as well as witch, to 
 pronounce them : a score of things there were besides. 
 And then to see the old woman, with her streaming 
 grey hair, twinkling eyes, and grim look, twirl about 
 as some flute-girl at a banquet; it was enough to dance 
 down, not only the moon, but the whole milkj^ ^^''^J' 
 But it did not dance down Callista : at which mother 
 got savage, and protested that Callista was a Christian." 
 
 Jucundus looked much perplexed. " Medius fidius !" 
 he said, "whj^, unless we look sharp, she will be 
 converting him the wrong way;" and he began pacing 
 up and down the small room. 
 
 Juba on his part began singing : 
 
 " Gurta the witch would have part in the jest ; 
 Tho' lame as a gull, by his highness possessed, 
 She shouldered her cratch, and danced with the rest. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 63 
 
 " Sporting and snorting, deep in the night, 
 Their beards flashing fire, and their hoofs striking licht, 
 And their tails whisking round in the heat of their flight." 
 
 Bj this time Jucundus had recovered from the 
 quahn which Jiiba's intelligence had caused him, and 
 he cried out, " Cease your rubbish ; old Gurta's jea- 
 lous ; I know her spite; Christian is the most black- 
 guard word in her vocabulary, it's Barbar for toad or 
 adder. I see it all ; no, Callista, the divine Callista, 
 must take in hand this piece of wax, sing a charm, and 
 mould him into a Vertumnus. She'll show herself 
 the more potent witch of the two. The new emperor 
 too will help the incantation." 
 
 " AVhat ? something is coming ? " asked Juba with a 
 grin. 
 
 " Cominp:, boy ? yes, I warrant you," answered his 
 uncle. " Well make them squeak. If gentle means 
 don't do, then we'll just throw in another ingredient 
 or two ; a sword, or a wild cat, or a firebrand." 
 
 " Take care what you are about, if you deal with 
 Agellius," said Juba. "He's a sawney, but you must 
 Bot drive him to bay. Don't threaten, keep to the 
 other line ; he's weak-hearted." 
 
 " Only as a background to bring out the painting; 
 the Muse singing, all in light, relieved by sardix or sepia. 
 It must come ; but perhaps Agellius will come first." 
 
 It was indeed as Jucundus had hinted ; a new policy, 
 a new era was coming upon Christianity, together 
 with the new emperor. Christians had hitherto been 
 for the most part the objects of popular fury rather 
 than of imperial jealousy. Nero, indeed, from his very 
 love of cruelty had taken pleasure in torturing them ; 
 but statesmen and philosophers, though at times per- 
 plexed and inconsistent, yet on the whole had de- 
 spised them ; and the superstition of priests and peo- 
 ple, with their " Christianos ad leones," had been the 
 most formidable enemy of the faith. Accordingly, 
 atrocious as the persecution had been at times, it had 
 
54 CALLISTA ; 
 
 been conducted on no plan, and had been local and 
 fitful. But BA'en this trial bad been suspended, with 
 but few interruptions, during the last thirty, nay fifty 
 years. So favourable a state of things had been more 
 or less brought about by a succession of emperors, 
 who had shown an actual leaning to Cinnstianity. 
 "While the vigorous rule of the five good emperors, as 
 they are called, had had many passages in its history 
 of an adverse character, those who followed after, 
 being untaught in the traditions, and strangers to the 
 spirit, of old Home, foreigners, or adventurers, or sen- 
 suahsts, were protectors of the new religion. The 
 favourite mistress of Commodus is even said to have 
 been a Christian; so is the nurse of Caracalla. The 
 wretched lleliogabalus, by his taste for Oriental super- 
 stitions, both weakened the influence of the establish- 
 ed hierarchy, and encouraged a toleration of a faith 
 which came from Palestine. The virtuous Alexander, 
 Avho followed him, was a philosopher more than a 
 statesman ; and, in pursuance of the syncretism which 
 he had adopted, placed the images of Abraham and 
 our Lord among the objects of devotion which his 
 private chapel contained. AVhat is told us of the 
 Emperor Philip is still more to the point: the gravest 
 authorities report that he was actually a Christian ; 
 and, since it cannot be doubted that Christians were 
 persuaded of the fact, the leaning of his government 
 must have been emphatically in their favour to account 
 for such a belief In consequence Christians showed 
 themselves without fear ; they emerged from the cata- 
 combs, and built churches in public view; and, though 
 in certain localities, as in the instance of Africa, they 
 had suffered from the contact of the world, they spread 
 far and wide, and faith became the instrument at least 
 of political power, even where it was wanting in charity, 
 or momentarily disowned by cowardice. In a word, 
 though Celsus a hundred years before had pronounced 
 "a man weak who should hope to unite the three 
 portions of the earth in a common religion," that com- 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 55 
 
 mon Catholic faith had been found, and a principle of 
 empire was created which had never before existed. 
 The phenomenon could not be mistaken ; and the 
 Roman statesman saw he had to deal with a rival. 
 Nor must we suppose, because on the surface of the 
 history we read so much of the vicissitudes of imperial 
 power, and of the profligacy of its possessors, that the 
 fabric of government was not sustained by traditions 
 of the strongest temper, and by officials of the highest 
 sagacity. It was the age of lawyers and politicians ; 
 and they saw more and more clearly that if Chris- 
 tianity was not to revolutionize the empire, they must 
 follow out tlie line of action which Trajan and Anto- 
 nine had pointed out. 
 
 Decius then had scarcely assumed the purple, when 
 he commenced that new policy against the Church 
 which it was reserved to Diocletian, fifty years later, 
 to carry out to its own final refutation. He entered 
 on his power at the end of the year 249 ; and on the 
 January 20th following, the day on which the Church 
 still celebrates the event, St. I'abius, bishop of Eome, 
 obtained the crown of martyrdom. He had been 
 pope for the unusually long space of fourteen years, 
 having been elected in consequence of one of those 
 remarkable interpositions of Divine Providence of 
 which we now and then read in the first centuries of 
 the Church. He had come up to Kome from the 
 country, in order to be present at the election of a 
 successor to Pope Auteros. A dos^e was seen to 
 settle on his head, and the assembly rose up and forced 
 him, to his surprise, upon the episcopal throne. After 
 bringing back the relics of St. Pontian, his martyred 
 predecessor, from Sardinia, and having become the 
 apostle of great part of Gaul, he seemed destined to 
 end his history in the same happy quiet and obscurity 
 in which he had lived; but it did not become a pope 
 of that primitive time to die upon his bed, and he was 
 reserved at length to inaugurate in his own per- 
 
56 CALLISTA ; 
 
 son, as chief pastor of the Church, a fresh company of 
 martyrs. 
 
 Suddenly an edict appeared for the extermination of 
 the name and religion of Christ. It was addressed to 
 the proconsuls and other governors of provinces ; and 
 alleged or implied that the emperors, Decius and his 
 son, being determined to give peace to their subjects, 
 found the Christians alone an impediment to the ful- 
 filment of their purpose ; and that, by reason of the 
 enmity those sectaries entertained against the gods 
 of Kome, — an enmity which was bringing down upon 
 the world multiplied misfortunes. Desirous, then, 
 above all things, of appeasing their anger, they made 
 an irrevocable ordinance that every Christian, without 
 exception of rank, sex, or age, should be obliged to 
 sacrifice. Those who refused were to be thrown into 
 prison, and in the first instance submitted to moderate 
 punishments. If they conformed to the established 
 religion, they were to be rewarded ; if not, they were 
 to be drow3:ied, burned alive, exposed to the beasts, 
 hung upon the trees, or otherwise put to death. This 
 edict was read in the Camp of the prcetorians, posted 
 up in the Capitol, and sent over the empire by govern- 
 ment couriers. The authorities in each province were 
 threatened themselves with heavy penalties, if they 
 did not succeed in frightening or tormenting the 
 Christians into the profession of paganism. 
 
 St. Fabius, as we have said, was the firstfruits of 
 the persecution, and eighteen months passed belbre his 
 successor could be appointed. lu the course of the 
 next two months St. Pionius was burned alive at 
 Smyrna, and St. Nestor crucified in Pamphylia. At 
 Carthage some perplexity and delay were occasioned 
 by the* absence of the proconsul. St. Cyprian, its 
 bishop, took advantage of the delay, and retii-ed into 
 a place of concealment. The populace had joined 
 with the imperial government in seeking his life, 
 and had cried out furiously in the circus, demanding 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIKD CENTUBT. 67 
 
 him "adleonem," for the lion. A panic seized the 
 Christian bod}'^, and for a while there were far more 
 persons found to compromise their faith than confess 
 it. It seemed as if Aristo's anticipation was justified, 
 that Christianity was losing its hold upon the mind 
 of its subjects, and that nothing more was needed for 
 those who feared it, than to let it die a natural death. 
 And at Sicca the Koman officials, as far as ever they 
 dared, seemed to act on this view. Here Christians 
 did no harm, tliey made no show, and there was little 
 or nothing in the place to provoke the anger of the 
 mob or to necessitate the interference of the magis- 
 trate. The proconsul's absence from Carthage vras 
 both an encouragement and an excuse for delay ; and 
 hence it was that, though we are towards the middle 
 of the year 250, and the edict was published at liome 
 at its commencement, the good people of Sicca had, as 
 we have said, little knowledge of what was taking 
 place in the political world, and whispered about vague 
 presages of an intended measure, which had been in 
 some places in operation for many months. Com- 
 munication with the seat of government was not very 
 frequent or rapid in those days, and public curiosity 
 had not been stimulated by the facilities of gratifying 
 it. And thus we must account for a phenomenon, 
 which we uphold to be a fact in the instance of Sicca 
 in the early summer of a.d. 250, even though it 
 prove unaccountable, and history has nothing to say 
 about it, and in spite of the Acta Diiirna. 
 
 The case, indeed, is different now. In these times, 
 newspapers, railroads, and magnetic telegraphs make 
 us independent of government messengers. The pro- 
 ceedings at Ivorae would have been generally and 
 accurately known in a few seconds ; and then, by way 
 of urging on the magistracy, a question would have 
 been asked in the parliament of Carthage by the 
 member for Sicca, or Laribus, or Thugga, or by some one 
 of the pagani, or country party, whether the popular 
 report was true, that an edict had been promulgated 
 
58 CALLISTA ; 
 
 at Eome against the Christians, and what steps had 
 been taken by the local authorities throughout the 
 proconsulate to carry out its provisions. And then 
 the " Colonia Siccensis" would have presented some 
 good or bad reason for the delay : that it arose from 
 the absence of the proconsul from the seat of govern' 
 ment, or from the unaccountable loss of the despatch 
 in its way from the coast ; or, perhaps, on the other 
 hand, the under-secretary would have maintained 
 amid the cheers of his supporters that the edict had 
 been promulgated and carried out at Sicca to the full, 
 that crowds ot Christians had at once sacrificed, and 
 that, in short, there was no one to punish ; assertions 
 which at that moment were too likely to be verified 
 by the event. 
 
 In truth, there were many reasons to make the 
 magistrates, both lloman and native, unwilling to 
 proceed in the matter, till they were obliged. No doubt 
 they one and all detested Christianity, and would 
 have put it down, if they could ; but the question was, 
 when they came to the point, ivliat they should put 
 down. If, indeed, they could have got hold of the 
 ringleaders, the bishops of the Church, they would 
 have tortured and smashed them con amore, as 3'ou 
 ■would kill a wasp ; and with the greater warmth and 
 satisfaction, just because it was so difficult to get at 
 them. Those bishops were a set of fellows as mis- 
 chievous as they were cowardly ; they would not come 
 out and be killed, but they sculked in the desert, and 
 hid in masquerade. But why should gentlemen in 
 ofBce, opulent and happy, set about worrying a hand- 
 ful of idiots, old, or poor, or boys, or women, or ob- 
 scure, or amiable and well meaning ; who were but the 
 remnant of a former generation, and as little con- 
 nected with the fanatics of Carthage, Alexandria, or 
 Home, as the English freemasons with their name- 
 sakes on the Continent ? True, Christianity was a 
 secret society, and an illegal religion; but would it 
 cease to be so when those harmless or respectable 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTITET. 59 
 
 inhabitants of tlic place had been mounted on the 
 rack or the gibbet ? 
 
 And then, too, it was a most dangerous thing to ^ 
 open the door to popular excitement; — who would be 
 able to shut it ? Once rouse the populace, and it was 
 all over with the place. It could not be denied that 
 the bigoted and ignorant majority, not only of the 
 common people, but of the better classes, was steeped 
 in a bitter prejudice, and an intense, though latent, 
 hatred of Christianity. Besides the antipathy which 
 arose from the extremely different views of life and 
 duty taken by pagans and Christians, which would 
 create a natural impulse of persecution in the hearts 
 of the former, there were the many persons who 
 wished to curry favour at Eome with the court, and 
 had an eye to preferment or reward. There was the 
 pagan interest, extended and powerful, of that numer- 
 ous class which was attached to the established reli- 
 gion by habit, position, interest, or the prospeet of 
 advantage. There were all the great institutions or 
 establishments of the place ; the law courts, the schools 
 of grammar and rhetoric, the philosophic exedrcB and 
 lecture-rooms, the theatre, the amphitheatre, the mar- 
 ket, — all were, for one reason or another, opposed to 
 Christianity ; and who could tell where they would 
 stop in their onward course, if they were set in mo- 
 tion ? " Quieta non movenda^" was the motto of the 
 local government, native and imperial, and that the 
 more, because it was an age of revolutions, and they 
 might be most unpleasantly compromised or embar- 
 rassed by the direction the movement took. Besides, 
 Decius was not immortal ; in the last twelve years 
 eight emperors had been cut off, six of them in a few 
 months ; and who could tell but the successor of the 
 present might revert to the policy of Philip, and feel 
 no thanks to those \rho had suddenly left it for a 
 policy of blood ? 
 
 2 " What is at rest must not be disturbed." 
 
60 CALLISTA ; 
 
 In this cautious course they would be powerfully- 
 supported by the influence of personal considerations. 
 ♦ The Eoman ojficia, the city magistrates, the heads of 
 the established religion, the lawyers, and the philoso- 
 phers, all would have punished the Christians, if they 
 could; but they could not agree whom to punish. 
 They would have agreed with great satisfaction, as we 
 have said, to inflict condign and capital punishment 
 upon the heads of the sect ; and they would have had 
 no objection, if driven to do something, to get hold of 
 some strangers or slaves, who might be a sort of scape- 
 goats for the rest ; but it was impossible, when they 
 once began to persecute, to make distinctions, and 
 not a few of them had relations who were Christians, 
 or at least were on that borderland which the mob 
 might mistake for the domain of Christianity, — Mar- 
 cionites, Tertullianists, Montanists, or Gnostics. "When 
 once the cry of "the gods of Kome" was fairly up, 
 it would apply to tolerated religions as well as illicit, 
 and an unhappy votary of Iwsis or Mithras might suffer, 
 merely because there were few Christians forthcoming. 
 The duumvir of the place had a daughter whom he 
 had turned out of his house for receiving baptism, and 
 who had taken refuge at Vacca. Several of the decu- 
 rions, the tahularius oi the district, the scriba, one of 
 the exactors, who lived in Sicca ; various of the retired 
 gentry, whom we spoke of in a former chapter ; and 
 various attaches of the prsetorium, were in not dis- 
 similar circumstances. Nay, the priest of Esculapius 
 had a wife, whom he was very fond of, who, though 
 she promised to keep quiet, if things continued as 
 they were, nevertheless had the madness to vow that, 
 if there were any severe proceedings instituted against 
 her people, she would at once come forward, confess 
 herself a Christian, and throw water, instead of in- 
 cense, upon the sacrificial flame. Not to speak of the 
 venerable man's tenderness for her, such an exposure 
 would seriously compromise his respectability, and, as 
 he was infirm and apoplectic, it was a question whe- 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 61 
 
 ther Esculapius himself could save lilm from the sliock 
 which would be the consequence. 
 
 The same sort of feeling operated with our good 
 friend Jucundus. He was attached to his nephew; 
 but, be it said without disrespect to him, he was more 
 attached to his .reputation ; irnd while he would have 
 been seriously annoyed at seeing Agellius exposed to 
 one of the panthers of the neighbouring forest, or 
 hung up by the feet, with the blood streaming from 
 his nose and mouth, as owe of the dogs or kids of the 
 market, he would have disliked the eclat of the thing 
 still more. He felt both anger and alarm at the 
 prospect ; he was conscious he did not understand his 
 nephew, or (to use a common phrase) know where to 
 find him. He was aware that a great deal of tact was 
 necessary to manage him ; and he had an instinctive 
 feeling that Juba was right in saying that it would 
 not do to threaten him with the utmost severity of 
 the law. He considered Callista's hold on him was 
 the most promising quarter of the horizon; so he 
 came to a resolution to do as little as he could per- 
 sonally, but to hold Agellius's head, as far as he could, 
 steadily in the direction of that lady, and to see what 
 came of it. As to Juba's assurance that Agellius 
 was not a Christian at heart, it w^as too good news to 
 be true ; but still it might be only an anticipation of 
 what w^ould be, when the sun of Greece shone out 
 upon him, and dispersed the remaining mists of Orien- 
 tal superstition. 
 
 In this state of mind the old gentleman determined 
 one afternoon to leave his shop to the care of a slave ; 
 and to walk down to his nephew, to judge for himself 
 of his state of mind ; to bait his hook with Callista, 
 and to see if Agellius bit. There was no time to be 
 lost, for the publication of the edict might be made 
 any day; and then disasters might ensue which no 
 skill could remedy. 
 
CAILISTa; 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 JI:cu^'DUS tlien set out to see how the land lay with 
 his nephew, and to do what he could to prosper the 
 tillage. His way led him hy the Temple of Mercury, 
 which at that time subserved the purpose of a boys' 
 school, and was connected with some academical 
 buildings, the property of the city, which lay beyond 
 it. It cannot be said that our friend was any warm, 
 patron of literature or education, though he had not 
 neglected the schooling of his nephews. Letters 
 seemed to him in fact to unsettle the mind ; and he 
 had never known much good come of them. Ehetori- 
 cians and philosophers did not know where they stood, 
 or what were their bearings. They did not know what 
 they held, and what they did not. He knew his own 
 position perfectly well, and, though the words " be- 
 lief " or " knowledge " did not come into his religious 
 vocabulary, he could at once, without hesitation, state 
 what he professed and maintained. He stood upon 
 the established order of things, on the traditions of 
 Home, and the laws of the empire ; but as to Greek 
 sophists and declaimers, he thought very much as old 
 Cato did about them. The Greeks were a very clever 
 people, unrivalled in the fine arts ; let them keep to 
 their strong point; they were inimitable with the 
 chisel, the brush, the trowel, and the fingers; bat 
 he was not prepared to think much of their calamus 
 or stylus, poetry excepted. What did they ever do 
 
A SKETCH OF THE TRIED CENTIIE.r. 63 
 
 but subvert received principles without substituting 
 any others r And then they were so likely to take 
 some odd turn themselves ; you never could be sure of 
 them. Socrates, their patriarch, what was he after all 
 but a culprit, a convict, who had been obliged to drink 
 hemlock, dying under the hands of justice ? Was this a 
 reputable end, a respectable commencement of the phi- 
 losophic family ? It was very well for Plato or Xeno- 
 phon to throw a veil of romance over the transaction, 
 but this was the plain matter of fact. Then Anaxa- 
 goras had been driven out of Athens for his revolu- 
 tionary notions ; and Diogenes had been accused, like 
 the Christians, of atheism. The case had been the 
 same in more recent times. There had been that 
 madman, xVpollonius, roaming about the world ; Apu- 
 kius, too, their neighbour, fifty years before, a man 
 of respectable station, a gentleman, but a follower of 
 the Greek philosophy, a dabbler in magic, and a pre- 
 tender to miracles. Other^j straggled off to Chris- 
 tianity, as in their own country, Minucius, a contem- 
 porary of Apuleius, or thereabout. Such, too, had 
 been his friend Octavius ; such Csecilius, who even 
 became one of the priests of the sect, and seduced 
 others from the religion he had left. One of them 
 had been the public talk for several years, and he 
 too originally a rhetorician, Thascius Cyprianus of 
 Carthage, It was the one thing which gave him some 
 misgiving about that little Callista, that she was a 
 Greek. 
 
 As he passed the temple, the metal plate was 
 sounding as a signal for the termination of the 
 school, and on looking towards the portico with an 
 ill-natured curiosity, he saw a young acquaintance 
 of his, a youth of about twenty, coming out of it, 
 leading a boy of about half that age, with his satchel 
 thrown over his shoulder. 
 
 " AV'ell, Arnobius','' be cried, "how does rhetoric 
 
 ^ Here is an anachronism of some twenty or thirty years. 
 
64 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 proceed? are we to take the law line, or turn pro- 
 fessor ? AVho's the boy, some younger brother ?" 
 
 "I've taken pity on the little fool," answered 
 Arnobius ; "these schoolmasters are a savage breed. 
 I suffered enough from them myself, and ' miseris 
 succurrere disco ■'.' So I took him from under the 
 roof of friend Rupilius, and he's under my tutelage. 
 How did he treat thee, boy ? " 
 
 " He treated me like a slave or a Christian," an- 
 swered he. 
 
 " He deserved it, I'll warrant," said Jucundus ; " a 
 pert, forward imp, 'Twas Crete ao^ainst Briton. Much 
 good comes of schooling. He's flippant already. Ah, 
 the new generation ! I don't know where the world's 
 going." 
 
 " Tell the gentleman," said Arnobius, "what he did 
 first to you, my boy." 
 
 "As the good gentleman says," answered the boy, 
 " first I did something to him, and then he did some- 
 thing to me." 
 
 " I told you so," said Jucundus ; " a sensible boy, 
 after all, but the schoolmaster had the best of it, I'll 
 wager." 
 
 " Pirst," answered he, " I grinned in his face, and 
 he took off his wooden shoe, and knocked out one of 
 my teeth." 
 
 "Good!" said Jucundus, "the justice of Pytha- 
 goras. Zaleucus could 'not have done better. The 
 mouth sins, and the mouth suffers." 
 
 "Next," continued he, "I talked in school-time to 
 my chum ; and Ilupilius put a gag in my jaws, and 
 kept them open for an hour." 
 
 " The very Ehadamanthus of schoolmasters," cried 
 Jucundus ; " and thereupon you struck up a chant, 
 divine though inarticulate, like the statue of Mem- 
 mon." 
 
 " Then," said the boy, " I could not say my Virgil, 
 
 3 " I learn to succour the wretched." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. G5 
 
 and he tore the shirt from off my back, and gave it 
 me with the leather." 
 
 "Ay," answered Jucundus, "'arraa virurnque' 
 branded on your hide." 
 
 "Afterwards I ate his dinner for him," continued 
 the boy, " and then he screwed my head, and kept me 
 without food for two days." 
 
 "Your throat, you mean," said Jucundus; "a 
 cautious man ! lest you should steal a draught or two 
 of good strong air." 
 
 " And lastly," said he, " I did not bring my pence, 
 and then he tied my hands to a gibbet, and hung me 
 up in terror em'"' 
 
 "There I came in," said Arnobius; "he seemed a 
 pretty boy, so I cut him down, paid his odra^ and took 
 him home." 
 
 " And now he is your pupil ? " asked Jucundus. 
 
 " Not yet," answered Arnobius ; " he is still a day- 
 scholar of the old wolf's ; one is like another; he could 
 not change for the better; but I am his bully, and 
 shall pupilize him some day. He's a sharp lad, isn't 
 he, Firmius ? " turning to the boy ; "'a great hand at 
 composition for his years; better than I am, who never 
 shall write Latin decently. Yet what can I do ? I 
 must profess and teach, for Eome is the only place for 
 the law, and these city professorships are not to be 
 despised." 
 
 " Whom are you attending here ? " asked Jucundus 
 drily. 
 
 " You are the only man in Sicca who needs to ask 
 the question. What ! not know the great Polemo of 
 Khodes, the friend of Plotinus, the pupil of Thea- 
 gencs, the disciple of Thrasyllus, the hearer of Nico- 
 machus, who was of the school of Secundus, the doctor 
 of the new Pythagoreans ? Not feel the presence in 
 Sicca of Polemo, the most celebrated, the most into- 
 lerable of men ? That, however, is not his title, but 
 the ' godlike,' or the ' oracular,' or the ' portentous,' 
 or something else as impressive. Every one goes to 
 
66 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 him. He is the rage. I should not havo a chance of 
 success, if I could not say that 1 had attended his 
 lectures ; though I'd be bound our little Tirmius here 
 Would deliver as good. He's the very cariophylkis of 
 human nature. He comes to the schools in a litter of 
 cedar, ornamented \Yith silver and covered with a 
 lion's skin, .slaves carrying him, and a crowd of friends 
 attending, with the state of a proconsul. He is 
 dressed in the most exact style ; his pallium is of the 
 finest wool, white, picked out with purple ; his tresses 
 flow with unguent, his fingers glitter with rings, and 
 he smells like Idalium. As soon as he puts foot on 
 earth, a great hubbub of congratulation and homage 
 breaks forth. . He takes no notice ; his favourite 
 pupils form a circle round him, and conduct him into 
 one of the exedrce, till the dial shows the time for 
 lecture. Here he sits in silence, looking at nothing, 
 or at -the wall opposite him, talking to himself, a hum 
 of admiration filling the room. Presently one of his 
 pupils, as if he were pra^co to the duumvir, cries 
 out, ' Hush, gentlemen, hush ! the godlike ' — no, it is 
 not that. I've not got it. "VVliat 25 his title? 'the 
 Bottomless,' that's it — 'the Bottomless speaks.' A 
 dead silence ensues ; a clear voice and a measured 
 elocution are the sure token that it is the outpouring 
 of the oracle. ' Pray,' says the little man, ' pray, 
 which existed first, the egg or the chick? Did the 
 chick lay the egg, op the egg hatch the chick ? ' 
 Then there ensues a whispering, a disputing, and after 
 a while a dead silence. At the end of a quarter of an 
 hour or so, our praeco speaks again, and this time to 
 the oracle. ' Bottomless nian,' he says, ' I have to 
 represent to you that no one of the present conipany 
 finds himself equal to answer the question which 
 your condescension has proposed to our considera- 
 tion.' On this there is a fresh silence, and at length a 
 fresh effatum from tlie hierophant : ' Which comes first, 
 the egg or the chick ? the egg comes first in relation 
 to the causativity of the chick, and the chick comes 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 67 
 
 first in relation to the causativity of the egs:,' on ^Yhich 
 there is a burst of applause ; the ring of adorers is 
 broken through, and the shrinking professor is carried 
 in the arms or on the shoulders of the literary crowd 
 to his chair in the lecture-room." 
 
 Much as there was in Arnobius's description which 
 gratified Jucundus's prejudices, he had suspicions of 
 his young acquaintance, and was not in the humour to 
 be pleased unreservedly \Yith those who satirized any 
 thing whatever that was established, or was appointed 
 by government, even affectation. He said something 
 about the wisdom of ages, the reverence duo to au- 
 thority, the institutions of Rome, and the magistrates 
 of Sicca. "Do not go after novelties," he said to 
 ArnobJus ; " make a daily libation to Jove, the pre- 
 server, and to the genius of the emperor, and then let 
 other things take their course." 
 
 " But you don't mean I must believe all this man 
 says, because the decurions have put him here?" 
 cried Arnobius. " Here is this Polemo saying that 
 Proteus is matter, and that minerals and vegetables 
 are his flock ; that Proserpine is tlie vital influence, 
 and Ceres the efficacy of the heavenly bodies ; that 
 there are mundane spirits, and supramundane ; and 
 then his doctrine about triads, monads, and progres- 
 sions of the celestial gods ! " 
 
 " Hm ! " said Jucundus ; "they did not say so 
 when I went to school ; but keep to my rule, my bo}^, 
 and swear by the genius of Eome and the emperor." 
 
 "I don't believe in god or goddess, emperor or 
 Eome, or in any philosophy, or in any religion at all," 
 said Arnobius. 
 
 "AVhat!" cried Jucundus," you're not going to 
 desert the gods of your ancestors ? " 
 
 " Ancestors ? " said Arnobius ; " I've no ancestors. 
 I'm not African certainly, not Punic, not Libophoeni- 
 cian, not Canaanite, not Numidian, not Ga^tulian. I'm 
 half Greek, but what the other half is I don't know'. 
 My good old gaffer, you're one of the old world. I 
 r2 
 
68 CALLISTA ; 
 
 believe nothing. "Who can ? there is such a racket 
 and whirl of religions on all sides of me, that I am sick 
 of the subject." 
 
 " Ah, the rising generation ! " groaned Jucundus ; 
 " you young men ! 1 cannot prophesy what you will 
 become when we old fellows are removed from the 
 scene. Perhaps you're a Christian." 
 
 Arnobius laughed. " At least I can give you com- 
 fort on that head, old grandfather. A pretty Chris- 
 tian I should make, indeed ! seeing visions, to be sure, 
 and rejoicing in the rack and dungeon! I wish to 
 enjoy life ; I see wealth, power, rank, and pleasure to be 
 worth living for, and I see nothing else." 
 
 ""Well said, my lad," cried Jucundus, "well said; 
 stick to that. I declare you frightened me. Give up 
 all visions, speculations, conjectures, fancies, novelties, 
 discoveries ; nothing comes of them but confusion." 
 
 "No, no," answered the youth ; "I'm not so wild 
 as you seem to think, Jucundus. It is true I don't 
 believe one single word about the gods ; but in their 
 worship was I born, and in their worship I will die." 
 
 "Admirable!" cried Jucundus in a transport; 
 " well, I'm surprised ; you have taken me by surprise. 
 You're a fine fellow ; you are a boy after my heart. 
 I've a good mind to adopt you." 
 
 " You see I can't believe one syllable of all the 
 priests' trash," said Arnobius ; " who does ? not they. 
 I don't believe in Jupiter or Juno, or in Astarte or 
 in Isis ; but where shall I go for any thing better ? or 
 why need I seek any thing good or bad in that line ? 
 ^Nothing's known any where, and life would go while 
 I attempted what is impossible. ISo, better stay 
 where I am ; I may go further, and gain a loss for my 
 pains. So you see I am for myself, and for the genius 
 of Eome. 
 
 " That's the true ])rinciple," answered the delighted 
 Jucundus ; " why really, for so young a man, sur- 
 prising ! Where did you get so much good sense, my 
 dear lelloAV? JT've seen very little of you. Well, 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CEKTURY. 69 
 
 this I'll say, you're a youtli of most mature miud. 
 To be sure ! AVell ! ■ Such youths are rare now-a- 
 days. I congratulate you with all my heart on your 
 strong sense and your admirable wisdom. AVho'd 
 have thought it ? I've always, to tell the truth, had 
 a. little suspicion of you ; but you've come out nobly. 
 Capital ! I don't wish you to believe in the gods, if 
 you can't ; but it's your duty, dear boy, your duty to 
 Kome to maintain them, and to rally round them when 
 attacked." Then with a changed voice he added, 
 " Ah, that a young friend of mine had your view of 
 the matter! " and then, fearing he had said too much, 
 he stopped abruptly. 
 
 "You mean Agellius," said Arnobius. "You've 
 heard, by-the-bye," he continued in a lower tone, 
 "what's the talk in the capitol, that at 'Rome they 
 are proceeding on a new plan against the Christians 
 with great success. They don't put to death, at 
 least at once ; they keep in prison, and threaten the 
 torture. It's surprising how many come over." 
 
 "The Furies seize them!" exclaimed Jucundus ; 
 " they deserve every thing bad, always excepting my 
 poor boy. So they are cheating the hangman by 
 giving up their atheism, the vile reptiles, giving in to 
 a threat. However," he added gravely, " I wish 
 threats would answer with Agellius ; but I greatly 
 fear that menace would only make him stubborn. 
 That stubbornness of a Christian! O Arnobius," 
 be said, shaking his head and looking solemn, " it's 
 a visitation from the gods, a sort of npnjjJioIejysiaJ^ 
 
 "It's going out," said Arnobius, "mark my words; 
 the frenzy is dying. It's only wonderful it should 
 have lasted for three centuries. The report runs that 
 in some places, when the edict was published, the 
 Christians did not wait for a summons, but swept up 
 to the temples to sacrifice like a shoal of tunnies. 
 The magistrates were obliged to take so many a day ; 
 and, as the days went on, none so eager to bring 
 
70 CALLISTA ; 
 
 over the rest as those who have already become honest 
 men. Nay, not a few of their mystic or esoteric class 
 have conformed." 
 
 "If so, unless Agellius looks sharp," said Jucun- 
 dus, "his sect will give him up before he gives up 
 his sect. Christianity will be converted before him." 
 
 " O, don't fear for him ! " said Arnobius ; " I knew 
 him at school. Boys differ ; some are bold and open. 
 They like to be men, and to dare the deeds of men ; 
 they talk freely, and take their swing in broad day. 
 Others are shy, reserved, bashful, and are afraid to do 
 what they love quite as much as the others. AgelUus 
 never could rub oft' this false shame, and it has taken 
 this turn. He's sure to outgrow it in a year or two. 
 I sliould not wonder if, when once he had got over 
 it, he went into the opposite fault. You'll find him 
 a drinker, and a swaggerer, and a spendthrift, before 
 many years are over." 
 
 " AVell, that's good news," said Jucundus : " I mean, 
 I am glad you think he will shake oft" these fancies. I 
 don't believe they sit very close to him myself." 
 
 He walked on for a while in silence ; then he 
 said, " That seems a sharp child, Arnobius. Could he 
 do me a service, if I wanted it ? Hoes he know 
 Agellius ? " 
 
 "Know him?" answered the other; "yes, and 
 his farm too. He has rambled round Sicca, many is 
 the miile. And he knows the short cuts, and the blind 
 ways, and safe circuits." 
 
 "What's the boy's name? " asked Jucundus. 
 
 " Firmius," answered Arnobius. " Eirmius Lactan- 
 tius." 
 
 "I say, Firmius," said Jucundus to him, "where 
 are you to be found of a day, my boy ? " 
 
 "At class morning and afternoon," answered Fir- 
 mius, "sleeping in the porticoes in midday, no 
 where in the evening, and roosting with Arnobius 
 at night." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 7l 
 
 " And can you keep a secret, sliould it so happen ? '* 
 asked Jucundus, *' and do an errand, if I gave you 
 one?" 
 
 " I'll give him the stick worse than llupilius, if he 
 does not ! " said Arnobius. 
 
 "A bargain," cried Jucundus; and, waving his 
 hand to them, he stept through the city gate, and 
 they returned to their afternoon amusements. 
 
72 CALLISTA5 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Agellitjs is busily employed upon his farm. "While 
 the enemies of his faith are laying their toils for 
 him and his brethren in the imperial city, in the pro- 
 consular qfficium, and in the nmnicipal curia; while 
 Jucundus is scheming against him personally in 
 another way and with other intentions, the uncon- 
 scious object of these machinations is busy about his 
 master's crops, housing the corn in caves or pits, dis- 
 tilling the roses, irrigating the Mennali, and training 
 and sheltering the vines. And he does so, not only from 
 a sense of duty, but the more assiduously, because he 
 finds in constant employment a protection against him- 
 self, against idle thoughts, wayward wishes, discon- 
 tent, and despondency. It is doubtless very strange 
 to the reader how" any one who professed himself a 
 Christian in good earnest should be open to the im- 
 putation of resting his hopes and his heart in the tents 
 of paganism ; but we do not see why Agellius has not 
 quite as much a right to be inconsistent in one way, as 
 Christians of the present time in another; and perhaps 
 he has more to say for himself than they. They have 
 not had the trial of solitude, nor the consequent temp- 
 tation to which he has been exposed, of seeking relief 
 from his own thoughts in the company of unbelievers. 
 "When a boy he had received his education at that 
 school in the Temple of Mercury of which we heard 
 in the foregoing chapter ; and though happily he had 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIIJD CEIsTUHr. 73 
 
 preserved himself from the contagion of idolatry and 
 sin, he liad on that very account formed no friendships 
 ■with his schoolfellows. Whether there were any Chris- 
 tians there besides himself, he did not know ; but, 
 while the worst of his schoolfellows were what heathen 
 boys may be supposed to be, the lightest censure 
 which could be passed on any was that they were 
 greedy, or quarrelsome, or otherwise unamiable. He 
 had learned there enough to open his mind, and to 
 give him materials for thinking, and instruments for 
 reflecting on his own religion, and for drawing out 
 into shape his own reflections. He had received just 
 that discipline which makes solitude most pleasant to 
 the old, and most unsupportable to the young. He 
 had got a thousand questions which needed answers, 
 a thousand feelings which needed sympathy. He 
 wanted to know whether his guesses, his perplexities, 
 his trials of mind, were peculiar to himself, or how 
 far they were shared by others, and what they were 
 worth. He had capabilities for intellectual enjoyment 
 unexercised, and a thirst after knowledge unsatisfied. 
 And the channels of supernatural assistance were 
 removed from him at a time when nature was most 
 impetuous and most clamorous. 
 
 It was under circumstances such as these that two 
 young Grreeks, brother and sister, the brother older, 
 the sister younger, than Agellius, came to Sicca at 
 the invitation of Jucundus, who wanted them for his 
 trade. His nephew in time got acquainted with them, 
 and found in them what he had sought in vain else- 
 where. It is not that they were oracles of wisdom, or 
 repositories of philosophical learning ; their age and 
 their calling forbade it, nor did he require it. For aa 
 oracle, of course, he would have looked in another 
 direction ; but he desiderated something more on a 
 level with himself, and that they abundantly supplied. 
 He found, from his conversations with them, that 
 a great number of the questions which had been a 
 difficulty to him had already been agitated in the 
 
74 
 
 CALLISTA : 
 
 schools of Greece. He found vi'hat solutions ^xere 
 possible, what the hinge was on which questions 
 turned, what the issue to which they led, and what 
 the principle which lay at the bottom of them. He 
 began better to understand the position of Chris- 
 tianity in the world of thought, and the view which 
 was taken of it by the advocates of other religions or 
 philosophies. He gained some insight into its logic, 
 and advanced, without knowing it, in the investigation 
 of its evidences. 
 
 Nor was this all ; he acquired by means of his new 
 friends a great deal also of secular knowledge as well 
 as philosophical. He learned much of the history of 
 foreign countries, especially of Greece ; of its heroes 
 and sages, its poets and its statesmen, of Alexander, 
 of the Syro-Macedonic empire, of the Jews, and of the 
 series of conquests through which Eome advanced to 
 universal dominion. 
 
 To impart knowledge is as interesting as to acquire 
 it ; and Agellius was called upon to give as well as to 
 take. The brother and sister, without showing any 
 great religious earnestness, were curious to know 
 about Christianity, and listened with the more pa- 
 tience that they had no special attachment to any 
 other worship. In the debates which ensued, though 
 there was no agreement, there was the pleasure of 
 mental exercise and excitement ; he found enough to 
 tell them without touching upon the more sacred 
 mysteries ; and while he never felt his personal faith 
 at all endangered by their free conversation, his 
 charity, or at least his good will and his gratitude, 
 led him to hope, or even to think, that they were in 
 the way of conversion themselves. In this thought 
 he was aided by his own innocence and simplicity; 
 and though, on looking back afterwards to this event- 
 ful season, he recognized many trivial occurrences 
 wliich ought to have put him on his guard, yet he had 
 no suspicion at the time that those who conversed so 
 winningly, and sustained so gracefully and happily 
 
A SKETCn or THE TIIIRD CENTURY. 75 
 
 the commerce of thought find sentiment, miglit in 
 their actual state, nay, in their governing principles, 
 be in utter contrariety to himself when the veil was 
 removed from off their hearts. 
 
 jN"or was it in serious matters alone, but still more 
 in lighter subjects of conversation, that Aristo and 
 Callista were attractive to the solitary Agellius. She 
 had a sweet thrilling voice, and accompanied herself 
 on the lyre. She could act the improvisatrice, and 
 her expressive features were a running commentary 
 on the varied meaning, the sunshine and the shade, of 
 her ode or her epic. She could relate how the pro- 
 fane Peutheus and the self- glorious Hippolytus gave 
 a lesson to the world of the feebleness of human vir- 
 tue when it placed itself in opposition to divine 
 power. She could teach how the chaste Diana mani- 
 fests herself to the simple shepherd Endymion, not to 
 the great or learned ; and how Tithonus, the spouse of 
 the Morn, adumbrates the fate of those vrho revel 
 in their youth, as if it were to last for ever; and 
 who, when old, do nothing but talk of the days when 
 they were young, wearying others with tales of " their 
 amours or their exploits, like grasshoppers that show 
 their vigour only by their chirping'." The very alle- 
 gories which sickened and irritated Arnobius when 
 spouted out by Polemo, touched the very chords of 
 poor Agellius's heart when breathed fortli from the 
 lips of the beautiful Greek. 
 
 She could act also ; and suddenly, when conversa- 
 tion flagged or suggested it, she could throw herself 
 into the part of Medea or Antigone, with a force and 
 truth which far surpassed the etlect produced by the 
 male and masked representations of those characters 
 at the theatre. Brother and sister were (Edipus and 
 Antigone, Eiectra and Orestes, Cassandra and the 
 Chorus. Once or twice they attempted a scene in 
 Menander; but there w^as something which made 
 
 * Bacon. 
 
76 CALLISTA ; 
 
 Agellius shrink from the comedy, beautiful as it was, 
 and clever as was the representation. Callista could 
 act Thais as truly as Iphigenia, but Agellius could 
 not listen as composedly. There are certain most 
 delicate instincts and perceptions in us, which act as 
 first principles, and which, once effaced, can never, 
 except from some supernatural source, be restored to 
 the mind. AVhen men are in a state of nature, these 
 are sinned against and vanish very soon ; at so early a 
 date in the history of the individual, that perhaps he 
 does not recollect that he ever possessed them ; and 
 since, like other first principles, thej are but very 
 partially capable of proof, a general scepticism pre- 
 vails, both as to their existence and their truth. The 
 Greeks, partly from the vivacity of their intellect, 
 partly from their passion for the beautiful, lost these 
 celestial adumbrations sooner than other nations. 
 AVhen a collision arose on such matters between 
 Agellius and his friends, Callista kept silence; but 
 Aristo was not slow to express his wonder that the 
 young Christian should thmk customs or practices 
 wrong, which in his view of the matter were as un- 
 blameable and natural as eating, drinking, or sleeping. 
 His own face became almost satirical as Agellius's 
 became grave : however, he was too companionable and 
 good-natured to force another to be happy in his own 
 way ; he imputed to tho extravagance of his friend's 
 religion what in any but a Christian he would have 
 called morose and misanthropical; and he bade his 
 sister ^We over representations which, instead of 
 enlivening the passing hour, did but inflict pain. 
 
 This friendly intercourse had now gone on for some 
 months, as the leisure of both parties admitted. Once 
 or twice brother and sister had come to the suburban 
 farm ; but for the most part, in spite of his intense 
 dislike of the city, he had for their sake threaded its 
 crowded and narrow thoroughfares, crossed its open 
 places, and presented himself at their apartments. 
 And was it very strange that a youth, so utterly 
 
A SEETCH O^ THE THIRD CE:N-TTTIIT. 77 
 
 Ignorant of the world, and nnsuspicions of evil, should 
 not have heard the warning voice wliich called him to 
 separate himself from heathenism, even in its most 
 specious form ? AYas it very strange, under these 
 circumstances, that a sanguine hope, the hope of the 
 youthful, should have led Agellius to overlook obsta- 
 cles, and beguile himself into the notion that Callista 
 might be converted, and make a good Christian wife ? 
 AVeli, Ave have nothing more to say for him ; if we 
 have not already succeeded in extenuating his offence, 
 we must leave him to the mercy, or rather to the 
 justice, of his severely virtuous censors. 
 
 But all this w^hile Jucuudus has been conversing 
 with him ; and, unless we are quick about it, we shall 
 lose several particulars which are necessary for those 
 who wish to pursue without a break the thread of his 
 history. His uncle had brought the conversation round 
 to the delicate point which had occasioned his visit, 
 and had just broken the ice. AVith greater tact, and 
 more ample poetical resources than we should have 
 given him credit for, he had been led from the scene 
 beiore him to those prospects of a moral and social 
 character which ought soon to employ the thoughts 
 of his dear Agellius. He had spoken of vines and 
 of their culture, apropos of the dwarf vines around 
 him, which stood about the height of a currant-bush. 
 Thence he had proceeded to the subject of the more 
 common vine of Africa, which crept and crawled 
 along the ground, the extremity of eacli plant resting 
 in succession on the stock of that which immediately 
 preceded it. And now, being well into his subject, 
 he called to mind the high vine of Italy, which mounts 
 by the support of the slim tree to which it clings. 
 Then he quoted Horace on the subject of the marriage 
 of the elm and the vine. This lodged him in medias 
 res; and Agellius's heart beat, when he found his 
 uncle proposing to him, as a thought of his own, the 
 \ ery step which he had fancied was almost a secret of 
 
78 CALLISTA ; 
 
 his own breast, though Juba had seemed to have 
 some suspicion of it. 
 
 "Mj dear Agellius," said Jucmidus, "it would be 
 a most suitable proceeding. I have never taken to 
 marrying myself; it has not lain in my way, or been 
 to my taste. Tour father did not set me an encourag- 
 ing example ; but here you are living by yourself, in 
 this odd lashion, unlike any one else. Perhaps you 
 may come in time and live in Sicca. We shall lind 
 some way of employing you, and it will be pleasant to 
 have you near me as I get old. However, I mean it 
 to be some time yet before Charon makes a prize of 
 me : not that I believe all that rubbish more than 
 you, Agellius, I assure you." 
 
 *' It strikes me," Agellius began, " that perhaps 
 you may think it inconsistent in me taking such a 
 step, but" — 
 
 "Ay, ay, that's the rub," thought Jucundus ; then 
 aloud, " Inconsistent, my boy ! who talks of incon- 
 sistency ? what superfine jackanapes dares to call it 
 inconsistent? You seem made for each other, Agel- 
 lius ; she town, you c'ountry ; she so clever and attrac- 
 tive, and up to the world, you so fresh and Arcadian. 
 You'll be quite the talk of the place." 
 
 "That's just what I don't want to be," said Agel- 
 lius. " I mean to say," -he continued, " that if I 
 thought it inconsistent with my religion to think of 
 Callista" — 
 
 " Of course, of course," interrupted his uncle, who 
 took his cue from Juba, and was on his guard against 
 hurting Agellius's selt-respect, " but who knows you 
 have been a Christian ? no one knows any thing about 
 it. I'll be bound they all think you an honest fellovir 
 like themselves, a worshipper of the gods, without 
 crotchets or hobbies of any kind. I never told them 
 to the contrary. My opinion is, that if you were to 
 make your libation to Jove, and throw incense upon 
 the imperial altar to-morrow, no one would think it 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIED CENTURY. 79 
 
 extraordinary. They would say for certain that they had 
 seen you do it again and again. Don't fancy for an 
 instant, my dear Agellius, that you have any thing 
 whatever to get over." 
 
 Agellius was getting awkward and mortified, as may 
 be easily conceived, and Jucundus saw it, but coufd 
 not make out why. " My dear uncle," said the youth, 
 " you are reproaching me." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," said Jucundus confidently, "not 
 a shadow of reproach ; why should I reproach you ? 
 AYe can't be wise all at once ; I had my follies once, 
 as you may have had yours. It's natural you should 
 grow more attached to things as they are, — things i% 
 they are, you know, — as time goes on. Marriage, and 
 the preparation for marriage, sobers a man. You've 
 been a little headstrong, I can't deny, and had your 
 fling in your own way ; but ' nuces pueris,' as you will 
 soon be saying yourself on a certain occasion. Your 
 next business is to consider what kind of a marriage 
 you propose. I suppose the Eoman; but there is 
 great room for choice even there." 
 
 It is a proverb how different things are in theory 
 and when reduced to practice. Agellius had thought 
 of the end more than of the means, and had had a 
 vision of Callista as a Christian, Avhen the question of 
 rites and forms would have been answered by the 
 decision of the Church without his trouble. He was 
 somewhat sobered by the question, though in a dif- 
 ferent way from what his uncle wished and intended. 
 
 Jucundus proceeded : " First, there is matrimonium 
 confarreationis. You have nothing to do with that ; 
 strictly speaking, it is obsolete ; it went out with the 
 exclusiveness of the old patricians. I say ' strictly 
 speaking ;' for the ceremonies remain, waving the 
 formal religious rite. Well, my dear Agellius, I don't 
 recommend this ceremonial to you. You'd have to 
 kill a porker, to take out the entrails, to put away the 
 gall, and to present it to Juno Pronuba. And there's 
 fire too, and water, and frankincense, and a great deal 
 
80 CALLISTA ; 
 
 of the samo kind, ^Yhich I think undesirable, and 
 you would too ; for there, I am sure, we are agreed. 
 'We put this aside then, the religious marriage. Next 
 comes the marriage ex coemptione, a sort of mercan- 
 tile transaction. In this case the parties bu}" each 
 other, and become each other's property. "Well, qxqyj 
 man to his taste ; but for me, I don't like to be 
 bought and sold. I like to be my own master, and 
 am suspicious of any thing ii revocable. Why should 
 you commit yourself (do you see?) for eYQv,for ever, 
 to a girl you know so little of? Don't look surprised ; 
 it's common sense. It's very well to buy her ; but to 
 be bought, that's quite another matter. And I don't 
 know that you can. Being a Koman citizen yourself, 
 you can only make a marriage with a citizen; now the 
 question is, whether Callista is a citizen at all. I 
 know perfectly well the sweeping measure some years 
 back of Caracalla, which made all freemen citizens of 
 Kome, whatever might be their country ; but that 
 measure has never been carried out in fact. Tou'd 
 have very great difficulty with the law and the cus- 
 toms of the country ; and then, after all, if the world 
 were willing to gratify you, where's your proof she is 
 a freewoman ? My dear boy, I musfe speak out for 
 your good, though you're oftended with me. I wish 
 you to have her, I do ; but you can't do impossibili- 
 ties ; you can't alter facts. The laws of the empire 
 allow you to have her in a certain definite way, and no 
 other ; and you cannot help the law being what it is. 
 I say all this, even on the supposition of her being a 
 freewoman ; but it is just possible she may be in law 
 a slave. Don't start in that way; the pretty thing 
 is neither better or worse for what she cannot help. I 
 say it for your good. AVell, now I'm coming to my 
 point. There is a third kind of marriage, and that is 
 what I should recommend for you. It's the onatri- 
 monium ex usu, or consiietudme ; the great advantage 
 here is, that you have no ceremonies whatever, nothing 
 which can in any Avay stai*tle vour sensitive mind. 
 
A SKETCH or THE TnillD CENTtTHY. 81 
 
 In that case a couple are man and wife at length pra?- 
 scripiione. Ton are afraid of making a stir in Sicca ; in 
 this case you would make none. You would simply take 
 her home here : if, as time went on, you got on well 
 together, it would be a marriage ; if not," and he 
 shrugged his shoulders, " no harm's done ; vou are 
 both free." 
 
 Agellius had been sitting on a gate of one of the 
 vineyards ; he started on his feet, threw up his arms, 
 and made an exclamation. 
 
 " Listen, listen, my dear boy," cried Jucundus, 
 hastening to explain what he considered the cause of 
 his annoyance ; " Kateu, just one moment, Agellius, if 
 you can. Dear, dear, how I wish I knew where to 
 find you ! What is the matter ? I'm not treating her 
 ill, I'm not indeed. I have not had any notion at all 
 even of hinting that you should leave her, unless you 
 both wished the bargain rescinded. No, but it is a 
 great rise tbr her ; you are a lloman, with property, 
 with position in the place ; she's a stranger, aud 
 without a dower: nobody knows whence she came, or 
 any thing about her. She ought to have no difficulty 
 about it, and I am confident will have none." 
 
 " O, my good, dear uncle ! O Jucundus, Jucun- 
 dus ! " cried Agellius, "is it possible? do my ears 
 hear right ? "What is it you ask me to do ? " and he 
 burst into tears. " Is it conceivable ? " he said with 
 energy, "that you are in earnest in recommending me, 
 I say, in recommending me a marriage which really 
 Avould be no marriage at all? " 
 
 "Here is some very great mistake," said Jucundus 
 seriously ; " it arises, Agellius, from your ignorance of 
 the world. Ton must be thinking I recommend you 
 mere contuhernium. as the lav.-yers call it. AVell, I 
 confess I did think of that for a moment ; it occurred 
 to me ; I should have liked to have mentioned it, but, 
 knowing how preposterously touchy and skittish you 
 are on supposed points of honour, or sentiment, or 
 romance, or of something or other indescribable, I said 
 
82 OALLISTA ; 
 
 not one -^ord about that. I have only Tvlshed to con- 
 sult for your comfort, present and future. You don't 
 do me justice, Agellius. I have been attempting to 
 smooth your way. You must act according to the 
 received usages of society ; you cannot make a world 
 for yourself. Here have I proposed three or ibur 
 ways for your proceeding: you will have none of 
 them. What ivill you have? I thought you didn't 
 like ceremonies; I thought you did not like the esta- 
 blislied ways. Go, then, do it in the old fashion ; kill 
 youT sheep, knead your meal, light your torches, sing 
 your song, summon your flamen, if he'll come. Any 
 how, take your choice: do it either with religion or 
 without." 
 
 "O Jucundus," said the poor fellow, "am I then 
 come to this ? " and he could say no more. 
 
 His distress was not greater than his uncle's dis- 
 appointment, perplexity, and annoyance. The latter 
 had been making every thing easy for Agellius, and he 
 was striking, do what he would, on hidden, inexpli- 
 cable impediments, whichever way he moved. He got 
 more and more angry, the more he thought about it. 
 An unreasonable, irrational coxcomb ! He had heard 
 a great deal of the portentous stubbornness, of a 
 Christian, and now he understood what it was. It 
 was in his blood, he saw ; an offensive, sour humour, 
 tainting him from head to foot. A very different 
 recompense had he deserved. There had he come all 
 the way from his home from purely disinterested 
 feelings. He had no motive whatever, but a simple 
 desire of his nephew's welfare ; what other motive 
 could he have ? "Let Agellius go to the crows," he 
 thought, " if he will ; what is it to me, if he is seized 
 for a Christian, hung up hke a dog, or thrown like a 
 dead rat into the cloaca of the prison ? "What care I 
 if he is made an hyena's breakfast in the amphitheatre, 
 all ISicca looking on, or if he is nailed on a cross for 
 the birds to peck at before my door ? Ungrateful 
 puppy, it is no earthly concern of mine what becomes 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUEY- 83 
 
 of him, I shall be neither better nor worse. No 
 one will say a, word against Jucundiis ; he will not 
 lose a single! customer, or be shunned by a single jolly 
 companion, for the exposure of his nephew. But a 
 man can't be saved against his will. Here am I, full 
 of expedients and resources for his good ; there is he, 
 throwing cold water on every thing, and making diffi- 
 culties, as if he loved them. It's his abominable 
 pride ; that's the pith of the matter. He could not 
 have behaved worse, though I had played the bully 
 with him, and had reproached him with his Chris- 
 tianity. But I have studiously avoided every subject 
 which could put his back np. He's a very Typhon 
 or Enceladus for pride. Here he'd give his ears to 
 have done with Christianity; he wants to have this 
 CuUista ; he wants to swop her for his religion; but 
 he'd rather be burned than say, I've changed ! Let 
 him reap as he has sown ; why should I coax him 
 further to be merciful to himself? AV^ell, Agellius," 
 he said aloud, "I'm going back." 
 
 Agellius, on the other hand, had his own thoughts ; 
 and the most urgent of them, at the moment, was 
 sorrow that he had hurt his uncle. He was sincerely 
 attached to him, in consequence of his faithful guard- 
 ianship, his many acts of kindness, the reminiscences 
 of childhood, nay, the love he bore to the good points 
 of his character. To him he owed his education and 
 his respectable position. He could not bear his anger, 
 and he had a fear of his authority ; but what was to 
 be done? Jucundus, in utter insensibility to certain 
 instincts and rules which in Christianity are first 
 principles, had, without intending it, been greatly 
 dishonouring himself, and his passion, and the object 
 of it. Uncle and nephew had been treading on each 
 other's toes, and eacii was wincing under the mis- 
 chance. It was Agellius's place, as the younger, to 
 make advances, if he could, to an adjustment of the 
 misunderstanding ; and he wished to iind some middle 
 a 2 
 
84 CALLISTA ; 
 
 way. And, also, it is evident he had another induce- 
 ment besides his tenderness to Jucundus to nrge hiin 
 to do so. In truth, Callista exerted a tremendous 
 sway over him. The conversation which had just 
 passed ought to have opened his eyes, and made liim 
 understand that the very first step in any negotiations 
 between them was her iond fide conversion. It was 
 evidently he could not, he literally had not the power 
 of marrying her as a heathen. JRoman might marry 
 Itoman ; but a degradation of each party in the trans- 
 action was the only way by which a Eoman could 
 make any sort of marriage with a Greek. If she were 
 converted, they would be both of them under the 
 rules of the Catholic Church. But what prospect was 
 there of so happy an event ? AVhat had ever fallen 
 from her lips which looked that way ? Could not a 
 clever girl throw iierself into the part of Alcestis, or 
 chant the majestic verses of Clcanthes, or extemporize 
 a hymn upon the spring, or hold an argument on the 
 fidchrum and utile^ without having any leaning towards 
 Christianity r* A calm, sweet voice, a noble air, an 
 expressive countenance, refined and decorous manners, 
 were these specific indications of heavenly grace ? Ah, 
 poor Agellius! a fascination is upon you; and so you 
 are thinking of some middle term, which is to recon- 
 cile your uncle and you ; and, therefore, you begin as 
 follows : — 
 
 " I see by your silence, Jucundus, that you are 
 displeased with me, you who are always so kind. 
 Weil, it comes from my ignorance of things ; it does, 
 indeed. I ask your forgiveness for any thing which 
 seemed ungrateful in my behaviour, though there is 
 not ingratitude in my heart. I am too much of a boy 
 to see things beforehand, and to see them in all tiieir 
 bearings. You took me by surprise by talking on the 
 subject which led to our misunderstanding. I will 
 not conceal for an instant that I like Callista very 
 much, and that the more I see her, I like her the 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 85 
 
 more. It strikes me that, if you break tlie matter to 
 Aristo, he and I might have some talk together, and 
 understand each other." 
 
 Jucuudus was hot-tempered, but easily pacified; 
 and he really did wish to be on confidential terms 
 with his nephew at the present crisis ; so he caught at 
 his apology. " Now you speak like a reasonable i'el- 
 low, Ageliius," he answered. " Certainly, I will Gpeak 
 to Aristo, as you wish ; and on this question of con- 
 suetudo or prescription. AVell, don't begin looking 
 queer again. I mean 1 will speak to him on the 
 whole question and its details. He and I will talk 
 together for our respective principals. AVe shall soon 
 come to terms, I warrant you ; and then yoii^ sliall 
 talk with him. Come, show me round your fields," 
 he continued, "and let me see how you will be able to 
 present things to your bride. A very pretty property 
 it is. I it was, who was the means of your father 
 thinking of it. You have heard me say so before now, 
 and all the circum.stances. 
 
 " He was at Carthage at this time, undecided what 
 to do with himself. It so happened that Julia Clara's 
 estates were just then in the market. An enormous 
 windfall her estates were. Old Didius was emperor 
 just before my time ; ho gave all his estates to his 
 daughter as soon as he assumed the purple. Poor 
 lady ! she did not enjoy them long; Severus confiscated 
 the whole, not, however, for the benefit of the state, 
 but of the o^es jprivata. They are so large in Africa 
 alone, that, as you know, you are under a special pro- 
 curator. Well, they did not come into the market at 
 once ; the existing farmers were retained. Marcus 
 Juventius farmed a very considerable portion of them ; 
 they were contiguous and dovetailed into his own 
 lands, and accordingly, when he got into trouble, and 
 bad to sell his leases, there were certain odds and ends 
 about Sicca which it was proposed to lease piecemeal. 
 Your employer, A'^arius, would have given any money 
 for them, but I was beforehand with him. Nothing 
 
86 CALLISTA ; 
 
 like being on tlie spot ; he was on business of tbe pro- 
 consul at Adrumetum. I sent off Hispa instantly to 
 Strabo ; not an hour's delay after I heard of it. The 
 sale was at Carthage ; he went to his old commander, 
 who used his influence, and the thing was done. 
 
 "I venture to say there's not such a snng little farm 
 in all Africa ; and I'm sanguine we shall get a renewal, 
 though Yarius will do his utmost to outbid us. Ah, 
 my dear Agellius, if there is but a suspicion you are 
 not a thoroughgoing Eoman ! "Well, well, — here! 
 ease me through this gate, Agellius ; I don't know 
 what's come to the gate since 1 was here. Indeed ! — 
 yes ! you have improved this very much. That small 
 arbour is delicious ; but you want an image, an A polio 
 or a Diana. Ah ! do now stop for a moment ; why 
 are you going forward at such a pace ? I'll give you 
 an image ; it shall be one that you will really like. 
 AVell, you won't have it ? I beg you ten thousand 
 pardons. Ha, ha! I mean nothing. Ha, ha, ha! 
 O, what an odd world it is! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! 
 Well, I'm keeping you from your labourers. Ha, ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 And, having thus smoothed his own ruffled temper, 
 and set things right, as he considered, with Agellius, 
 the old pagan took his journey homewards, telling 
 Agellius that he would make all things clear for him 
 in a very short time, and telling him to be sure to 
 make a call upon Aristo before the ensuing calends. 
 
JL SKETCH or THE THIED CENTUEY. 
 
 87 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The day came Avliich AgelHus had fixed for paying 
 his promised visit to Aristo. It is not to be denied 
 that, in the interval, the difficulties of the business 
 ■which occasioned his visit had increased npon his 
 apprehensions. Cullista was not yet a Christian, nor 
 was there any reason to divine that a proposal of 
 marriage would make her one ; and a strange sort of 
 convert she would be, if it did. He would not suff'er 
 himself to dwell upon difiiculties, which he was deter- 
 mined never should be realized. No ; of course a 
 heathen he could not marry, but a heathen Callista 
 should not be. He did not see the process, but he 
 was convinced she would become a Christian. Yet 
 somehow so it was that, if he was able to stultify his 
 reason, he did not quite succeed to his satisfaction with 
 his conscience. Every morning found him less satis- 
 fied with himself, and more disposed to repent of 
 having allowed his uncle to enter on the subject with 
 Aristo. But it was a thing done and over; he must 
 either awkwardly back out, or he must go on. His 
 middle term, as he hastily had considered it, was 
 nothing else than siding with his uncle, and commit- 
 ting himself to go all lengths, unless some difiiculty 
 rose with the other pa.'ty. Yet could he really wish 
 that tlie step had not been taken ? AYas it not 
 plain that, if he was to put away Callista from his 
 afiections, he must never go near her ? And was he 
 
88 CALLISTA ; 
 
 to fall back on his drear solitude, and lose that outlet 
 of thought and relief of mind which he lately found 
 in the society of his Greek friends ? 
 
 "We may easily believe that he was not very peaceful 
 in mind, when he set out on that morning to call upon 
 Aristo ; yet he -would not allo\Y that he \Yas doing 
 ■wrong. He recurred to the pleasant imagination that 
 Callista would certainly become a Christian, and dwelt 
 pertinaciously upon it. He could not tell on what it 
 was founded ; he knew enough of his religion not to 
 mean that she was too good to be a heathen ; so it is 
 to be supposed he meant that he discerned what he 
 hoped were traces of some supernatural influence 
 operating upon her mind. He had a perception 
 which he could not justify by argument, that there 
 was in Callista a promise of something higher than 
 any thing she yet was. He felt a strange sympathy 
 with her, which certainly, unless he utterly deceived 
 himself, wag not based on any thing merely natural or 
 human, — a sympathy the more remarkable from the 
 contrariety which existed between them in matters of 
 religious iDelief. And hope having blown this large 
 and splendid bubble, sent it sailing away, and it rose 
 upon the buoyant atmosphere of youth, beautiful to 
 behold. 
 
 And yet, as Agellius ascended the long flight of 
 marble steps which led the foot-passenger up into 
 that fair city, while the morning sun was glancing 
 across them, and surveyed the outline of the many 
 sumptuous buildings which crested and encircled the 
 hill, did he not know full well that iniquity was writ- 
 ten on its very walls, and spoke a solemn warning to 
 a Christian heart to go out of it, to flee it, not to take 
 up a home in it, not to make aUiance with any in it P 
 Did he not know from experience full well that, when 
 he got into it, his glance could no longer be unre- 
 strained, or his air free ; but that it would be neces- 
 sary for him to keep a control upon his senses, and 
 painfully guard himself against what must eitlier be 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CEITTUTIY. 89 
 
 a terror to liim and an abhorrence, or a temptation ? 
 Enter in imagination into a town like Sicca, and you 
 will understand the great Apostle's anguish at seeing 
 a noble and beautiful citj given up to idolatry. Enter 
 it, and you will understand why it was that the poor 
 priest of whom Jucundus spoke so bitterly hung his 
 head, and walked with timid eyes and clouded brow 
 through the joyous streets of Carthage. Hitherto we 
 have only been conducting heathens through it, boys 
 or men, Jucundus, Arnobius, and Firraius ; but now a 
 Christian enters it with a Christian's heart and a 
 Christian's hopes. 
 
 Well is it for us, dear reader, that we in this age 
 do not experience, nay, a blessed thing that we cannot 
 even frame to ourselves in imagination, the actual 
 details of evil which hung as an atmosphere over the 
 cities of pagan Home. An Apostle calls the tongue 
 "a fire, a world of iniquity, untameable, a restless 
 evil, a deadly poison ;" and surely what he says applies 
 to hideous thoughts represented to the eye, as well 
 as when they are made to strike upon the ear. Un- 
 fortunate Agellius ! what takes you into the city this 
 morning ? Doubtless some urgent, com})ulsive duty ; 
 otherwise you would not surely be threading its lanes 
 or taking the circuit of its porticoes, amid sights 
 which now shock and now allure; fearfid sights, — not 
 here and there, but on the stateliest structures and in the 
 meanest hovels, in public offices and private houses, in 
 central spots and at the corners of the streets, in bazaars 
 and shops and house-doors, in the rudest workmanship 
 and in the highest art, in letters or in emblems or in paint- 
 ings, — the insignia and the pomp of Satan and of Belial, 
 of a reign of corruption and a revel of idolatry which 
 you can neither endure nor escape. Wherever you go 
 it is all the same ; in the court of police on the right, 
 in the military station on the left, in the crowd around 
 the temple, in the procession with its victims and its 
 worshippers who walk to music, in the language of 
 
90 CALLISTA ; 
 
 the noisy raarket-people ; wherever you go, you are 
 accosted, confronted, publicly, shamelessly, now as if 
 a precept of religion, now as if a homage to nature, 
 by all which, as a Christian, you shrink from and 
 abjure. 
 
 It is no accident of the season or of the day ; it is 
 the continuous tradition of some thousands of years. 
 It is the very orthodoxy of the myriads who have 
 lived and died there. There was a region once, in an 
 early age, lying upon the Eastern Sea, which is said 
 at length to have vomited out its inhabitants for tlieir 
 frightful iniquity. They, thus cast forth, took ship, 
 and passed over to the southern coast; and then, 
 gradually settling and spreading into the interior, 
 they peopled the woody plains and fertile slopes of 
 Africa, and filled it with their cities. Sicca is one of 
 these, set up in sin; and at the time of which we 
 write that sin was basking under the sun, and rioting 
 and extending itself to its amplest dimensions, like 
 some glittering serpent or spotted pard of the neigh- 
 bourhood, without interposition from heaven or earth 
 in correction of so awful a degradation. In such 
 scenes of unspeakable pollution, our Christian fore- 
 fathers perforce lived ; through sucli a scene, though 
 not taking part in it, Agellius, blest with a country 
 home, is unnecessarily passing. 
 
 He has reached the house, or rather the floor, to 
 which he has been making his way. It is at the back 
 of the city, where the rock is steep ; and it looks out 
 upon the plain and the mountain range to the north. 
 Its inmates, Aristo and Callista, are engaged in their 
 ordinary work of moulding or carving, painting or gild- 
 ing the various articles which the temples or the 
 private shrines of the established religion required. 
 Aristo has received from Jucundus the overtures 
 which Agellius liad commissioned him to make, and 
 finds, as he anticipated, that they are no great news 
 to his sister. She perfectly understands what is going 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 91 
 
 on, but does not care to speak miicli upon it, till 
 Agellius makes his appearance. As they sit at Avork 
 Aristo speaks. 
 
 "Agellius will make his appearance here this morn-, 
 ing. I say, Callista, \Yhat can he be coming for ?" 
 
 " "Why, if your ne^YS be true, that the Christiana 
 are coming into trouble, of course he means to pur- 
 chase, as a blessing on him, some of these bits of 
 gods." 
 
 "You are sharp enough, my little sister," answered 
 Aristo, " to knovy perfectly well who is the goddess he 
 is desirous of purchasing." 
 
 Callista laughed carelessly, but made no reply. 
 
 " Come, child," Aristo continued, " don't be cruel to 
 him. Wreath a garland for him by the time he comes. 
 He's well to do, and modest withal, and needs encou- 
 ragement." 
 
 "He's well enough," said Callista. 
 
 " I say he's a fellow too well off* to be despised as a 
 loyer," proceeded her brother; "and it would be a 
 merit with the gods to rid him of his superstition." 
 
 " Not much of a Christian," she made answer, "if 
 he is set upon me." 
 
 " Tor whose sake has he been coming here so often, 
 mine or yours, Callista?" 
 
 "I am tired of such engagements," she replied. 
 She went on with her painting, and seyeral times 
 seemed as if she would have spoken, but did not. 
 Then, without interrupting her work, she said calmly, 
 "Time was, it gratified my conceit and my feelings 
 to have hangers on. Indeed, without them, how 
 should we have had means to come here ? But there's 
 a weariness in all things." 
 
 " A weariness ! where is this bad humour to end ?" 
 cried Aristo ; " it has been a long fit ; shake it off 
 while you can, or it will be too much for you. "What 
 can you mean? a weariness! You are over-young 
 to bid youth farewell. Aching hearts for aching bones. 
 So young and so perverse I "We must take things aa 
 
92 CALLISTA ; 
 
 the gods give tLem. Ton will ask for them in vain 
 when you are old. One day above, another day be- 
 neath ; one while young, another while old. Enjoy 
 life while you have it in your hand." He had said 
 this as he worked. Then he stopped, and turned 
 round to her, with his graving tool in his hand. 
 " Eecollect old Lesbia, how she used to squeak out to 
 me, with her nodding head and trembling limbs," — 
 here he mimicked the old crone, — " ' My boy, take 
 your pleasure while you can. I can't take pleasure, 
 — my day is over; but I don't reproach myself. I 
 had a merry time of it while it lasted. Time stops 
 for no one, but I did my best ; I don't reproach my- 
 self.' There's the true philosopher, though a slave ; 
 more out-spoken than -^sop, more practical than 
 Epictetus." 
 
 Callista began singing to herself: — 
 
 " I wander by that river's brink 
 
 Which circles Pluto's drear domain ; 
 I feel the chill night-breeze, and think 
 Of joj's which ne'er shall be again. 
 
 " I count the weeds that fringe the shore, 
 Each sluggish wave that rolls and rolls ; 
 I hear the ever-splashing oar 
 Of Charon, ferr3-man of souls." 
 
 "Heigho!" she continued, "little regret, but much 
 dread. The young have to fear more than the old 
 have to mourn over. The future outweighs the past. 
 Life is not so sweet as death is bitter. It is hard to 
 quit the light, the light of heaven." 
 
 " Callistidion ! " he said impatiently, " my girl,,this 
 is preposterous. How long is this to go on ? We 
 must take you to Carthage : there is more trade there, 
 if we can get it ; and it will be on the briglit, far- 
 resounding sea. And I will turn rhetorician, and you 
 shall feed my classes." 
 
 " beautiful, divine light," she continued, " what 
 a loss ! O, to think that one day I must lose you for 
 ever ! At home I used to lie awake at night longing 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUEY. 93 
 
 for the morning, and crying out for tbe god of day. 
 It was like choice wine to me, a cup of Chian, the first 
 streaks of the Aurora, and I could hardly bear his 
 bright coming, when he came to me, like Semele, for 
 rapture. How gloriously did he shoot over the hills ! 
 and then anon he rested awhile on the snowy summit 
 of Olympus, as in some luminous shrine, gladdening 
 the Phrygian plain. Fair, bright-haired god ! thou 
 art my worship, if CalHsta worships aught ; but some- 
 how I worship nothing now. I am weary." 
 
 " AVell," said her brother in a soothing tone, "it is 
 a change. That light, elastic air, that transparent 
 heaven, that fresh temperate breeze, that majestic sea! 
 Africa is not Grreece; O, the difference! That's it, 
 Callista ; it is the nostalgia; you are home-sick." 
 
 "It may be so," she said; "I do not well know 
 what I would have. Yes, the poisonous dews, the 
 heavy heat, the hideous beasts, the green fever-gender- 
 ing swamps. This vast thickly-wooded plain, like 
 some mysterious labyrinth, oppresses and disquiets me 
 with its very richness. The luxuriant foliage, the tall 
 rank plants, the deep close lanes, I do not see my way 
 through them, and I pant for breath. I only breathe 
 freely on this hill. O, how unlike Greece, with the 
 clear, soft, delicate colouring of its mountains, and 
 the pure azure or the purple of its waters ! " 
 
 "But, my dear Callista," interrupted her brother, 
 "recollect you are not in those oppressive gloomy 
 forests, but up in Sicca, and no one asks you to pene- 
 trate them. And if yon want mountains, I think those 
 on the horizon are bare enough." 
 
 "And the race of man," she continued, "is worse 
 than all. "Where is the genius of our bright land ? 
 where its intelligence, playfulness, grace, and noble 
 bearing ? Here hearts are as black as brows, and 
 smiles as treacherous as the adders of the wood. The 
 natives are crafty and remorseless ; they never relax ; 
 they have no cheerfulness or mirth ; their very love is 
 a furnace, and their sole ecstasy is revenge." 
 
94 CALLISTA j 
 
 " "No country like home to any of us," said Aristo ; 
 "yet here you are. Habit would be a second nature, if 
 you were here long enough, your feelings would becouie 
 acclimated, and would find a new home. People get 
 to like the darkness of the extreme north in course of 
 time. The painted Britons, the Cimmerians, the 
 Hyperboreans, are content never to see the snn at 
 all, which is your god. Here your own god reigns ; 
 why quarrel with him ? 
 
 "The^unof Greece is light," answered Callista; 
 "the sun of Africa is fire. I am no fire-worshipper." 
 
 " I suspect even Styx and Phlegethon are tolerable 
 at length," said her brother, ''if Phlegethon and Stj^x 
 there be, as the poets tell us." 
 
 "The cold, foggy Styx is the north," said Callista, 
 "and the south is the scorching, blasting Phlegethon, 
 and Greece, clear, sweet, and sunny, is the Elysian 
 fields." And she continued her improvisations : — 
 
 ♦' Where are the islands of the blest ? 
 They stud tlie ^Egean sea ; 
 And wliere the deep Elysian rest ? 
 It haunts the vale, where Peneus strong 
 Pours his incessant stream along, 
 While craggy ridge and mountain bare 
 Cut keenly through the liquid air, 
 And. iu their own pure tints arrayed, 
 Scorn earth's green robes which change and fade, 
 And stand in beauty undccayed, 
 Guards of the bold aud free." 
 
 "A lower flight, if you please, just now," said Aristo, 
 interrupting her " I do really wish a serious word 
 with you about Agellius. He's a fellow 1 can't help 
 liking, in spite of his misanthropy. Let me plead his 
 cause. Like him or not yourself, still he has a full 
 purse ; and you will do a service to yourself and to 
 the gods of Greece, and to him too, if you will smile 
 on him. Smile on him, at least for a time ; we will go 
 to Carthage when you are tired. His looks have 
 very little in them of a Christian left ; you may blow 
 it away with your breath." 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 95 
 
 " One might do worse than be a Christian," she 
 answered slowly, " if all is true that I have heard of 
 them." 
 
 Aristo started up in irritation. " By all the gods 
 of Olympus," he said, " this is intolerable! If a man 
 wants a tormentor, I commend him to a girl like you. 
 AVhat has ailed thee some time past, thou silly child ? 
 What have I done to you, that you should have got so 
 cross and contrary, and so hard to please ? " 
 
 "I mean," said she, "if I were a Christian, life 
 would be more bearable." 
 
 " Bearable ! " he echoed ; " bearable ! ye gods ! 
 more bearable to have Styx and Tartarus, the Furies 
 and their snakes, in this world as well as in the next ! 
 to have evil within and without, to hate oneself and to 
 be hated of all men, to live the life of an ass, and to 
 die the death of a dog ! Bearable ! But hark ! I hear 
 Agellius's step on the staircase. Callista, dear Cal- 
 lista, be yourself. Listen to reason." 
 
 But Callista would not listen to reason, if her 
 brother was its embodiment ; but went on with her 
 
 " For what is Afric but the home 
 
 Of burning Phlegethon ? 
 What the low beach and silent gloom, 
 And chilling mists of that dull river, 
 Along whose bank the thin ghosts shiver, 
 The thin wan ghosts that once were men, 
 But Tauris, isle of moor and fen ; 
 Or, dimly traced by seaman's ken, 
 
 The pale-cliffed Albion ? " 
 
 Here she stopped, looked down, and busied herself with 
 her work. 
 
96 CALLISTAJ 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 It is undeniably a solemn moment, under any circum- 
 stances, and requires a strong heart, when any one 
 deliberately surrenders himself, soul and body, to the 
 keeping of another while life shall last ; and this, or 
 something like this, reserving the supreme claim of 
 duty to the Creator, is the matrimonial contract. In 
 individual cases it may be done without thought or 
 distress, but surveyed objectively, and carried out into 
 a number of instances, it is so tremendous an under- 
 taking, that nature seems to sink under its responsi- 
 bilities. When the Christian binds himself by vows 
 to a religious life, he makes a surrender to Him who is 
 all-perfect, and whom he may unreservedly trust. 
 Moreover, looking at that surrender on its human 
 side, he has the safeguard of distinct provisos and 
 regulations, and of the principles of theology, to secure 
 him against tyranny on the part of his superiors. 
 But what shall be his encouragement to make himself 
 over, without condition or stipulation, as an absolute 
 property, to a fallible being, and that not for a season, 
 but for life ? The mind shrinks from such a sacrifice, 
 and demands that, as religion enjoins it, religion 
 should sanction and bless it. It instinctively desires 
 that either the bond should be dissoluble, or that the 
 subjects of it sliould be sacrameutally strengthened to 
 preserve it. " So help me God," the formula of every 
 oath, is emphatically necessary here. 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CENTURY. 97 
 
 But Agellius is contemplating a superhuman en- 
 gagement without superhuman assistance; and that, 
 in a state of society in which public opinion, which in 
 some sense compensates for the absence of religion, 
 supplied human motives, not for, but against keeping 
 it, and with one who had given no indication that she 
 understood what marriage meant. No wonder, then, 
 that, in spite of his simplicity, his sanguine tempe- 
 rament, and his delusion, the more he thought of 
 the step he had taken, the more unsatisfactory he 
 found it, and the nearer he grew to the time Vvhen he 
 must open the subject with Aristo, the less he felt able 
 to do so. In consequence he was in a distress of mind, 
 as he ascended the staircase which ended in his friend's 
 lodging, to which his anxiety, as he mounted the hill 
 on the other side of the city, was tranquillity itself ; 
 and, except that he was coming by engagement, he 
 would have turned back, and for the time at least have 
 put the whole subject from his thoughts. Tet even 
 then, as often as Callista rose in his mind's eye, his 
 scruples and misgivings vanished before the beauty of 
 that image, as mists before the sun ; and when he 
 actually stood in her sweet presence, it seemed as if 
 some secret emanation from her flowed in upon his 
 heart, and he stood breathless and giddy under the 
 intensity of the fascination. 
 
 However, the reader must not suppose that in the 
 third century of our era such negotiations, as that 
 which now seems to be on the point of coming off 
 between Callista and Agellius, were embellished with 
 those transcendent sentiments and that magnificent 
 ceremonial with which chivalry has invested them in 
 these latter ages. There was little occasion then for 
 fine speaking or exquisite deportment; and if there 
 had been, we, who are the narrators of these hitherto 
 unrecorded transactions, should have been utterly 
 unable to do justice to them. At that time of day the 
 Christian had too much simplicity, the heathen too 
 little of real delicacy, to indulge in the sublimities of 
 
98 CAILISTA ; 
 
 modern love-malting, at least as it is found in novels ; 
 and in the case before us both gentleman and lady 
 v^-ill be thought, we consider, sadly matter of fact, or 
 rather semi-barbarous, bv the votaries of what is just 
 now called European civilization. 
 
 On Agellius's entering the room, Aristo was pacing 
 to and fro in some discomposure ; however, he ran up 
 to his friend, embraced him, and, looking at him with 
 significance, congratulated him on his good looks. 
 " There is more fire in your eye," he said, " dear 
 AgelUus, and more eloquence in the turn of your lip, 
 than I have ever yet seen. A new spirit is in you. 
 So you are determined to come out of your solitude. 
 That you should have been able to exist in it so long 
 is the wonderment to me." 
 
 Agellius had recovered himself, yet he dared not 
 look again on Callista. " Do not jest, Aristo," he said ; 
 " I am come, as you know, to talk to you about your 
 sister. I have brought her a present of flowers; they 
 are my best present, or rather not mine, but the birth 
 of the opening year, as fair and fragrant as herself." 
 
 " "We will offer them to our Pallas Athene," said his 
 friend, " to whom we artists are especially devout." And 
 he would have led Agellius on, and made him place 
 them in her niche in the opposite wall. 
 
 "I am more serious than you are," said Agellius; 
 " and I have brought the best my garden contains as 
 an offering to your sister. She will not think I bring 
 them for any other purpose. Where are you going ? " 
 he continued, as he saw his friend take down his broad 
 ^etasus. 
 
 " Why," answered Aristo, " since I am so poor an 
 interpreter of your meaning, you can dispense with 
 me altogether. I will leave you to speak for yourself; 
 and, meanwhile, will go and see what old Dromo has 
 to tell, before the sun is too high in the heavens." 
 
 Saying this, with a half-imploring, half-satirical look 
 at his sister, he set off to the barber's at the Forum. 
 
 Agellius took up the flowers, and laid them on the 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIKD CENTUEY. 99 
 
 table before her, as she sat at work, " Do you accept 
 my flowers, Callista ? " he asked. 
 
 "Fair and fragraot, like myself, are they?" she 
 made reply. " Give them to me." She took them, 
 and bent over them. "The blushing rose," she said 
 gravely, " the stately lily, the royal carnation, the 
 golden moly, the purple amaranth, the green bryon, 
 the diosanthos, the sertula, the sweet modest saliunca, 
 fit emblems of Callista. Well, in a few hours they 
 will have faded ; yes, they will get more and more like 
 her." 
 
 She paused and looked him steadily in the face, and 
 then continued, " Agellius, I once had a slave who 
 belonged to your religion. She had been born in a 
 Christian family, and came into my possession on her 
 master's death. She was unlike any one I have seen 
 before or since; she cared for nothing, yet was not 
 morose, or peevish, or hard-hearted. She died young 
 in my service. Shortly before her end she had a 
 dream. She saw a company of bright shades, clothed 
 in white, like the Hours which circle round the god of 
 day. They were crowned with flowers, and they said 
 to each other, ' She ought to have a token too.' So 
 they took her hand, and led her to a most beautiful 
 lady, as stately as Juno, and as sweet as Ariadne, so 
 radiant in countenance that they themselves suddenly 
 looked like Ethiopians by the side of her. She too 
 was crowned with flowers, and these so. dazzling that 
 they might be the stars of heaven, or the gems of 
 Asia, for what Chione could tell. And that fair 
 goddess (angel you call her) said, ' My dear, here is 
 something for you from my son. He sends you by 
 me a red rose for your love, a white lily for your 
 chastity, purple violets to strew your grave, and green 
 palms to flourish over it.' Is this the reason why you 
 give me flowers, Agellius, that I may rank with 
 Chione ? and is this their interpretation ? " 
 
 " Callista," he answered, " it is my heart's most 
 fervent wish, it is my mind's vivid anticipation, that 
 h2 
 
100 CALLISTA ; 
 
 the day may come wlien you will receive such a crown, 
 nay, a brighter one." 
 
 " And you are come, of course, to philosophize to me, 
 and to put me in the way of dying Hlje Chione," she 
 made answer. " I implore your pardon. You are 
 offering me flowers, it seems, not for a bridal wreath, 
 but for a funeral urn." 
 
 " Is it wonderful," said Agellius, " that the two 
 wishes should have gone together in my heart ; and 
 that while I trusted and prayed that you might have 
 the same Master in heaven as I have myself, I also 
 hoped you would have the same service, the same aims, 
 the same home, upon earth ? " 
 
 " And that you should speak one word for your 
 Master, and two for yourself," she retorted. 
 
 " It has been by feeling how much you could be to 
 me," he answered, " that I have been led to think how 
 much my Master may be doing for you already, and 
 how much in time to come you might do for Him. 
 Callista, do not urge me with your Greek subtlety, or 
 expect me to analyze my feelings more precisely than 
 I have the ability to do. May I calmly tell you the 
 state of my mind, as I do know it, and will you pa- 
 tiently listen ? " 
 
 She signified her willingness, and he continued : 
 " This only I know," he said, " what I have experienced 
 ever since I first heard you converse, that there is 
 between you and me so strange a unity of thought, 
 that I should have deemed it quite impossible, before 
 I found it actually to exist, between any two persons 
 whatever ; and which, widely as we are separated in 
 opinion and habit, and differently as we have been 
 educated, is to me inexplicable. 1 find it difficult to 
 explain what I mean ; we disagree certainly on the 
 most important subjects, yet there is an unaccountable 
 correspondence in the views we take of things, in our 
 impressions, in the line in which our minds move, 
 and the issues to w^hich they come, in our judgment of 
 what is great and little, and the manner in wliich 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CEIS^TURY. 101 
 
 objects aiFect our feelings, When I speak fco my 
 uncle, when I speak to your brother, I do not under- 
 stand them, nor they me. We are moving in different 
 spiieres, and I am solitary, however much they talk. 
 But, to my astonishment, I find between you and me 
 one language. Is it wonderful, that in proportion to 
 my astonishment I am led to refer it to one cause, 
 and tliink that one Master Hand must have engraven 
 those lines on the soul of each of us ? Is it wonderful 
 that I should fancy that He who has made us alike, 
 has made us for each other, and that the very same 
 persuasives by which I bring you to cast your eyes 
 on me, may draw you also to cast yourself in adoration 
 at the feet of my Master ? " 
 
 For an instant tears seemed about to start from 
 Callista's eyes, but she repressed the emotion, if 
 it was such, and answered with impetuosity, " Your 
 Master ! who is your Master ? what know I of your 
 Master ? what have you ever told me of your Master ? 
 I suppose it is an esoteric doctrine which I am not 
 worthy to know ; but so it is, here you have b6en 
 again and again, and talked freely of many things, yet 
 I am in as much darkness about your Master fts if I 
 had never seen you. I know He died ; I know too 
 that Christians say He lives. In some fortunate 
 island, I suppose ; for, when I have asked, you have 
 got rid of the subject, as best you could. You have 
 talked about your law and your various duties, and 
 what you consider right, and what is forbidden, and of 
 some of the old writers of your sect, and of the Jews 
 before them ; but if, as you imply, my wants and 
 aspirations are the same as yours, what have you done 
 towards satisfying them ? what have you done for that 
 Master towards whom you now propose to lead me ? 
 No ! " she continued, starting up, '"you have watched 
 those wants and aspirations for yourself, not for Him ; 
 vou have taken interest iu them, you have cherished 
 "them, as if you were the author, you the object of 
 them. You profess to believe in One True God, and 
 
102 CALLISTA ; 
 
 to reject every other ; and now yon are implying that 
 the Hand, the Shadow of that God ia on my mind and 
 heart. AVho is this God ? where ? how ? in what ? 
 O Agellius, you have stood in the way of Him, ready 
 to speak of yourself, using Him as a means to an 
 end." 
 
 "O Callista," said Agellius in an agitated voice, 
 ■when he could speak, " do my ears hear aright ? do 
 you really wish to be taught who the true God is ?" 
 
 "No; mistake me not," she cried passionately, "I 
 have no such wish. I could not be of your religion. 
 Ye gods ! how have I been deceived ! I thought every 
 Chri.^tian was like Chione. I thought there could 
 not be a cold Christian. Chione spoke as if a Chris- 
 tian's first thoughts were good will to others ; as if 
 his state were of such blessedness, that his dearest 
 heart's wisli was to bring others into it. Here is a 
 man, who, so far from feeling himself blest, thinks I can 
 bless him ; comes to me, — me, Callista, a herb of the 
 field, a poor weed, exposed to every wind of heaven, 
 and shrivelling before the fierce sun, — to me he comes 
 to repose his heart upon. But as for any blessedness 
 be has to show me, why, since he does not feel any 
 himself, no wonder he has none to give away. I 
 thought a Christian was superior to time and place ; 
 but all is hollow. Alas, alas ! I am young in life to 
 feel the force of that saying, with which sages go out of 
 it, 'Vanity and hollowness!' Agellius, when I first 
 heard you were a Christian, how my heart beat ! I 
 thought of her who was gone ; and at first I thought I 
 saw her in you, as if there had been some magical 
 sympathy between you and her; and I hoped that 
 from you I might have learned more of that strange 
 strength which my nature needs, and which she told 
 me she possessed. Tour words, your manner, your 
 looks, were altogether different from others who came 
 near me. But so it was ; you came, and you went, 
 and came again: I thought it reserve, I thought it 
 timidity, I thought it the caution of a persecuted 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUET. 103 
 
 sect ; but O mj disappointment, when first I saw in 
 you indications that you were thinking of me only as 
 others think, and felt towards me as others may feel; 
 that you were aiming at me, not at your Grod ; that 
 you had much to tell of yourself, but nothing of Him ! 
 Time was I might have been led to worship you, 
 Agellius ; you have hindered it by worshipping me.''' 
 
 It is not often, we suppose, that such deep offence 
 is given to a lady by the sort of admiration of which 
 Agellius had been guilty in the case of Callista ; how- 
 ever, startled as he might be, and startled and stung 
 he was, there was too much earnestness in her dis- 
 tress, too much of truth in her representations, too 
 much which came home to his heart and conscience, 
 to allow of his being afironted or irritated. She had 
 but supplied the true interpretation of the misgiving 
 which had haunted him that morning, from the time 
 he set out till the moment of his entering the room. 
 Jucundus some days back had readily acquiesced in 
 his assurance that he was not inconsistent ; but Cal- 
 lista had not been so indulgent, though really more 
 merciful. There was a pause in the conversation, or 
 rather in her outpouring ; each had bitter thoughts, 
 and silently devoured them. At length she began 
 again : 
 
 " So the religion of Chione is a dream ; now for 
 four years I had hoped it was a reality. All things 
 again are vanity ; I had hoped there was something 
 somewhere more than I could see; but there is 
 nothing. Here am I a living, breathing woman, with 
 an overflowing heart, with keen affections, with a 
 yearning after some object which may possess me. I 
 cannot exist without something to rest upon. I can- 
 not fall back upon that drear, forlorn state, which 
 philosophers call wisdom, and moralists call virtue. 
 I cannot enrol myself a votary of that cold Moon, 
 whose arrows do but freeze me. I cannot sympathize 
 in that majestic band of sisters whom Bome has 
 placed under the tutelage of Vesta. I must have 
 
104 CALLISTA ; 
 
 something to love; love is my life. Why do you 
 come to me, Agellius, with your every-day gallantry ? 
 Can you compete with the noble Grecian forms which 
 have passed before my eyes ? Is your voice more 
 manly, are its tones more eloquent, than those which 
 have thrilled through my ears since I ceased to be a 
 cliild? Can you add perfume to the feast by your 
 wit, or pour sunsliine over grot and rushing stream 
 by your smile ? What can you give me ? There was 
 one thing which I thought you could have given me, 
 better than any thing else; but it is a shadow. You 
 have nothing to give. Ton have thrown me back 
 upon my dreary, dismal self, and the deep wounds of my 
 memory. . . . Poor, poor Agellius ! but it was not his 
 fault, it could not be helped," she continued, as if in 
 thought ; " it could not be helped ; for, if he had 
 nothing ro give, how could he give it ? After all, he 
 wanted something to love, just as I did ; and he could 
 find nothing better than me. . . . And they thought to 
 persuade her to spend herself upon him, as she had 
 spent herself upon others. Yes, it was Jucundus 
 and Aristo, — my brother, even my own brother. 
 They thought not of we." Here her tears gushed 
 out violently, and she abandoned herself to a burst of 
 emotion. "They were thinking of him. I had hoped 
 he could lead me to what was higher; but woe, woe ! " 
 she cried, wringing her hands, "they thought I was 
 only fit to bring him low. Well ; after all, is Callista 
 really good for much more than the work they have 
 set her to do?" 
 
 She was absorbed in her own misery, in an intense 
 sense of degradation, in a keen consciousness of the 
 bondage of nature, in a despair of ever finding what 
 alone could give meaning to her existence, and an 
 object to her intellect and aftections. And Agellius 
 on the other hand, what surprise, remorse, and humi- 
 liation came upon him ! It was a strange contrast, 
 the complaint of nature unregenerate on the one 
 hand, the self-reproach of nature regenerate and lapsing 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CEITTUKT. 105 
 
 on the other. At last he spoke, and they were his 
 last words. 
 
 " Callista," he said, "whatever injury I may have 
 unwillingly inflicted upon you, you at least have re- 
 turned me good for evil, and have made yourself my 
 benefactress. Certainly, I now know myself better 
 than I did ; and He who has made iise of you as His 
 instrument of mercy towards me, will not forget to 
 reward you tenfold. One word will I say for myself; 
 nay, not for myself, but for my Master. Do not for 
 an instant suppose that what you thought of the 
 Christian religion is not true. It reveals a present 
 Grod, who satisfies every affection of the heart, yet 
 keeps it pure. I serve a Master," he continued, blush- 
 iug from modesty and earnestness as he spoke, " I 
 serve a Master whose love is stronger than created 
 love God help my inconsistency ! but I never meant 
 to love you as I love Him. You are destined for His 
 love. I commit you to Him, your true Lord, whom I 
 never should have rivalled, for whom I ought simply 
 to have pleaded. Though I am not worthy to approach 
 you, I shall trace you at a distance, who knows where ? 
 perhaps even to the prison and to the arena of those 
 who confess the Saviour of men, and dare to suffer 
 and die for His name. And now, farewell; to His 
 keeping and that of His holy martyrs I commit you." 
 
 He did not trust himself to look at her as he turned 
 to the door, and left the room. • 
 
106 caliista; 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The first stages of repentance are but a fever, in 
 which there is restlessness and thirst, hot and cold 
 fits, vague, dreary dreams, long darkness which seems 
 destined never to have a morning, effort without re- 
 sult, and collapse without reaction. These symptoms 
 had already manifested themselves in Agellius ; he 
 spoke calmly to Callista^ and sustained himself by the 
 claims of the moment; but no sooner had he left the 
 room, and was thrown upon himself, than his self- 
 possession left him, and he fell into an agony, or 
 rather anarchy of tumultuous feelings. Then rose up 
 before his mind a hundred evil spectres, not less 
 scaring and more real than the dreams of the deli- 
 rious. He thought of the singular favour which had 
 been shown him in his reception into the Christian 
 fold, and that at so early a date ; of the myriads all 
 around who continued in heathenism as they had been 
 born, and of his utter insensibility to his privilege. 
 He felt how much would be required of him, and how 
 little hitherto had been forthcoming. He thought of 
 the parable of the barren fig-tree, and the question 
 was whispered in his ear whether it would not be ful- 
 filled in him. He asked himself in what his heart and 
 his conduct differed from the condition of a fairly 
 virtuous heathen. xA.ud then he thought of Callista 
 in contrast with himself, as having done more with 
 the mite which she possessed than he had done with 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURr. 107 
 
 many pounds. He felt that Tyre and Sidon xvere 
 rising up against him in her person ; or rather how 
 the saying promised to be verified in her, that strangers 
 should sit down in the kingdom from far countries, 
 while those who were the heirs should be thrust out. 
 He had been rebuked by one to whom he rather 
 ought to have brought self-knowledge and compunc- 
 tion, and she was sensitively alive to his want of 
 charity. She had felt bitterly that she was left in 
 ignorance and sin by one who had what she had not. 
 She had accused him of being zealous enough to win 
 her to himself, when he had shown no zeal at all to 
 win her to her Maker. If she was brought to the 
 truth at length, there would be no thanks to him for 
 the ha})py change ; yet, though he had predicted it, 
 alas! was it likely that it would be granted? Had 
 she not had her opportunity, which was lost because 
 he had not improved it? Yes, she had with a deli- 
 berate mind and in set words put aside and taken 
 leave of that which she once desired and hoped might 
 have been her own, sorrowfully indeed, but peremp- 
 torily, as firmly persisting in rejecting as she might 
 have persisted in maintaining it ; and, if she died in 
 infidelity, horrible thought! would not the burden lie 
 on him, and was this the love which he pretended to 
 entertain for her ? 
 
 What was he living for? what was the work he had 
 set himself to do ? Did he live to plant flowers, or to 
 rear fruit, to maintain himself and to make money ? 
 AVas that a time to pride himself on vineyards and 
 oliveyards, when, like Elias, he was one among myriads 
 who were in unbelief? Ah, the difference between a 
 saint and him! Of what good was he on earth ? why 
 should not he die ? why so chary of his life ? why 
 preserve his wretched life at all ? Could he not do 
 more by giving it than by keeping it ? Might it not 
 have been given him perchance for the very purpose 
 that he might sacrifice it for Him who had given it ? 
 He had been timid about making a profession of hia 
 
108 CALLISTA ; 
 
 faith, whicli might have led to prison and death ; but 
 perhaps the verj^ object of his life in the divine pur- 
 pose, the very reason of his birth, had been, that, as 
 soon as he was grown, he should die for the truth. 
 He might have been cut off by disease : he was not ; 
 and why, except that he miglit merit in his death, and 
 that what, in the ordinary course of things, was a mere 
 suffering, might in his case be an act of service ? His 
 death might have been the conversion of thousands, of 
 Callista ; and the fewness of his days here would have 
 been his claim to a blessed eternity hereafter. 
 
 Nor Callista alone ; he had natural friends, with 
 nearer claims upon his charity. Had he been other 
 than he was, he might have prevailed with his uncle ; 
 at least he might have taught him to respect the 
 Christian Faith and Name, and restrained him from 
 daring to attempt, for he now saw that it was an 
 attempt, to seduce him into sin. He might have 
 lodged a good seed in his heart, which in the hour of 
 sickness might have germinated. And his brother 
 again had learned to despise him ; indeed he had raised 
 in every one who came near him the suspicion that he 
 was not really a Christian, that he Avas an apostate 
 (he could not help uttering a cry of anguish as he 
 used the word), an apostate from that which was his 
 real life and supreme worship. 
 
 Why did he not at once go into the Basilica or the 
 G-ymnasium, and proclaim himself a Christian ? There 
 were rumours abroad that the new emperor was be- 
 ginning a new policy towards his religion : let him 
 inaugurate it in Agellius. Might he not thus per- 
 chance wash out his sin ? He would be led into the 
 amphitheatre, as his betters had been led before him ; 
 the crowds would yell, and the lion would be let loose 
 upon him. He would confront the edict, tear it down, 
 be seized by the apparitor, and hurried to the rack 
 or the slow fire. Callista would hear of it, and 
 would learn at length he was not quite the craven and 
 the recreant which she thought him. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 109 
 
 - "Now his thouglits took a turn. Callista ! what was 
 Callista to bim ? "Why should he think of her, when 
 he was girding him to martyrdom ? AVas she to be 
 tlie motive which was to animate him, and her praise 
 his reward ? Alas, alas ! could he gain heaven hj 
 pleasing a li^eathen ? " But to whom then," he con- 
 tinued, " am I to look up ? who is to give me sym- 
 pathy ? who is to encourage, to advise me ? my 
 i^ither, pity me ! a feeble child, a poor, outcast, wan- 
 dering sheep, away from the fold, torn by the briars 
 and thorns, and no one to bind his wounds and retrrce 
 his stena for him. AVhy am I thus alone in the world ? 
 why ai]R without a pastor and guide ? Ah, was not 
 this my fault in remaining in Sicca ? I have no tie 
 here ; let me go to Carthage, or to Tagaste, or to 
 Madaura, or to Hippo. I am not fit to walk the 
 world by myself; I am too simple, and am no match 
 for its artifices." 
 
 Here another thought took possession of him, which 
 had as yet but crossed his mind, and it made him 
 colour up with confusion and terror. " They were 
 laying a plot for me," he said, " my uncle and Aristo ; 
 and it is Callista who has defeated it." And as he 
 spoke, he felfc how much he owed to her, and how 
 dangerous too it was to think of his debt. Yet it 
 would not be wrong to pray for her ; she had marred 
 the device of which she was to have been the agent. 
 "Laqueus contritus est, et nos liberati sumus :" the 
 net was broken, and he was delivered. She had refused 
 his devotion, that he might give it to his God ; and 
 now he would only think of her, and whisper her 
 name, when he was kneeling before the Blessed Mary, 
 his advocate. O that that second and better Eve, 
 who brought salvation into the world, as our first 
 mother brought death, that she might bear Callista's 
 name in remembrance, and get it written in the book 
 of life! 
 
 It was high noon; and all this time Agellius was 
 walking iu his present excited mood, without covering 
 
110 CALLTSTA J 
 
 to his head, under the burning rays of the sun, not 
 knowing which way he went, and retracing his steps, 
 as he wandered about at random, with a vague notion 
 he was going homewards. The few persons whom ho 
 met, creeping about under the shadow of the lofty 
 houses, or under the porticoes of the temples, looked at 
 him with Avonder, and thought him furious or deranged. 
 The shafts of the sun were not so hot as his own 
 thoughts, or as the blood which shot to and fro so 
 fiercely in his veins ; but they were working fearfully 
 on his physical frame, though they could not increase 
 the fever of his mind. He had come to th^Forum ; 
 the market people were crouching under theW booths, 
 or the shelter of their baskets. The riffraff of the 
 city, who lived by their wits, or by odd jobs, or on 
 the windfalls of the market; lazy fellows who did 
 nothing, who did not move till hunger urged them, 
 like the brute ; half-idiotic chewers of opium, ragged 
 or rather naked children, the butcher boys and scaven- 
 gers of the temples, lay at length at the mouth of the 
 caverns occasioned by the precipitous rock, or under 
 the Arch of Triumph, or amid the columns of the Gym- 
 nasium and the Heracleum, or in the doorways of the 
 shops. A scattering of beggars were lying, poor 
 creatures, on their backs in the blazing sun, reckless of 
 the awful maladies, the fits, the seizures, and the 
 sudden death which might be the consequence. 
 
 Numbers out of this mixed multitude were asleep : 
 some were looking with dull listless eyes at the still 
 scene, or at any accidental movements w'hich might 
 vary it. They saw^ a figure coming nearer and nearer, 
 and wildly passing by. Just then Agellius was diverted 
 from his painful meditations by hearing one of these 
 fellows say to another, as he roused from a sort of 
 doze, " That's one of them. We know them all, but 
 xery poor pickings can be got out of them ; but he 
 has more than most. They're a low set in Sicca." 
 And then the man cried out, "Look sharp, young 
 chap ! the Euries are at your heels, and the Fates are 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUBT. Ill 
 
 going before joii. Look tliere at the emperor; he is 
 looking at you, as grim and sour as you could wish 
 him." He spoke of the equestrian statue of Severus 
 before the Basilica on the right ; and, attracted bv his 
 words, Agellius went up to a board which was fixed 
 to its base. It was an imperial edict, and it ran as 
 follows : — 
 
 " Cneius Trnjanus Decius, Augustus ; and Quintus 
 Herennius Etruscus Decius, Caesar; Emperors, un- 
 conquerable and pious ; by united council these : — 
 
 " Whereas we have experienced the benefits and the 
 gifts of the gods, and do also enjoy the victory which 
 they have giv^en us over our enemies, and moreover 
 salubrity of seasons, and abundance in the fruits of 
 the earth ; 
 
 " Therefore, acknowledging the aforesaid as our 
 benefactors and the providers of those things which 
 are necessary for the commonwealth, we make this our 
 decree, that every class of the state, freemen and 
 slaves, the army and civilians, offer to the gods ex- 
 piatory sacrifices, falling down in supplication before 
 them. 
 
 " And if any one shall presume to disobey this our 
 divine command, which we unite in promulgating, we 
 order that man to be thrown into chains, and to be 
 subjected to various tortures. 
 
 " And should he thereupon be persuaded to reverse 
 his disobedience, he shall receive from us no slight 
 honours. 
 
 " But should he hold out in opposition, first he 
 shall have many tortures, and then shall be executed 
 by the sword, or thrown into the deep sea, or given as 
 a prey to birds and dogs. 
 
 " And more than all, if such a person be a professor 
 of tlie Christian religion. 
 
 " Farewell, and live happy." 
 
 The old man in the fable called on Death, and 
 Death made his appearance. AVe are very far indeed 
 from meaning that Agellius uttered random words, 
 
112 CALLISTA ; 
 
 or spoke impatiently, when he just now expressed a 
 wish to have the opportunity of dying for the Faith. 
 Nevertheless, Vvhat now met his eyes and was trans- 
 mitted through them, sentence by sentence, into his 
 mind, was not certainly of a nature to calm the 
 tumult which was busy in breast and brain ;— a sick- 
 ness came over him, and he staggered away. The 
 words of the edict still met his eyes, and were of a 
 bright red colour. The sun was right before him, but 
 the letters were in the sun, and the sun in his brain. 
 He reeled and fell heavily on the pavement. No 
 notice was taken of the occurrence by the spectators 
 about him. They lazily or curiously looked on, and 
 waited to see if he would recover. 
 
 How long he lay there lie could not tell, when he 
 came to himself; if it could really be said to be coming 
 to himself to have the power of motion, and an instinct 
 that he must move, and move in one direction. He 
 managed to rise and lean against the pedestal of the 
 statue, and its shade by this time protected him. 
 Then an intense desire came upon him to get home, 
 and that desire gave him a temporary preternatural 
 strength. It came upon him as a duty to leave ISicca 
 for his cottage, and he set oif. He had a contused 
 notion that he must do his duty, and go straight for- 
 ward, and turn neither to the right nor the left, and 
 stop no where, and but move on steadily for his true 
 home. But next an impression came upon him that 
 he was running away from persecution, and that this 
 ought not to be, and that he ought to face the enemy, 
 or at least not to hide from him, but meekly wait for 
 him. 
 
 As he went along the narrow streets which led 
 down the hill towards the city gate this thought came 
 so powerfully upon him, that at length he sat down on 
 a stone which projected from an open shop, and 
 thought of surrendering himself. He felt the benefit 
 of the rest, and this he fancied to be calm of con- 
 science consequent upon self-surrender and resigna- 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 113 
 
 tion. It was a fruiterer's stall, and the owner, seeing 
 his exhaustion, offered him some slices of a water- 
 melon for his refreshment. He ate one of them, and 
 then again a vague feeling came on him that he was 
 in danger of idolatry, and must protest against 
 idolatry, and that he ought not to remain in the neigh- 
 bourhood of temptation. So, throwing down the 
 small coin which was sufficient for payment, he con- 
 tinued his journey. The rest and the refreshment of 
 the fruit, and the continued shade which the narrow 
 street allowed him, allayed the fever, and for the time 
 recruited him, and he moved on languidly. The sun, 
 however, was still high in heaven, and when he got 
 beyond the city beat down upon his head from a 
 cloudless sky. He painfully toiled up the ascent 
 which led to his cottage. He had nearly gained the 
 gate of his homestead ; he saw his old household 
 slave, born' in his father's house, a Christian like 
 himself, coming to meet him. A dizziness came over 
 him, he lost his senses, and fell down helplessly 
 upon the bank. 
 
114 oailista; 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JucTJKDtrs was quite as mucli amused as provoked at 
 the result of the delicate negotiation in which he had 
 entangled his nephew. It was a gratification to him 
 to find that its ill success had been owing in no respect 
 to any fault on the side of Agellius, He had done his 
 part without shrinking, and the view which he, Jucun- 
 dus, had taken of his state of mind, was satisfactorily- 
 confirmed. He had nothing to fear for Agellius, and, 
 though he had failed in securing the guarantee which 
 he had hoped for his attachment to things as they were, 
 yet in the process of failure it had been proved that 
 his nephew might be trusted without it. And it was 
 a question whether a girl so full of whims and caprices 
 as Callista might after all have done him any permanent 
 good. The absurd notion, indeed, of her having a 
 leaning for Christianity had been refuted by her con- 
 duct on the occasion ; still, who could rely on a clever 
 and accomplished Grreek ? There were secret societies 
 and conspiracies in abundance, and she might have 
 iuvolved so weak and innocent a fellow in some plans 
 against the government, now or at a future time ; or 
 might have alienated him from his uncle, or in some 
 May or other made a fool of him, if she had consented 
 to have him for her slave. AVhy she had rejected so 
 eligible a suitor, it was now useless and idle to inquire ; 
 it might be that the haughty or greedy Greek had 
 required him to bid higher for her favourable notice. If 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CEKTUET. 115 
 
 the negotiation had taken such a turn, then indeed 
 there was still more gratifying evidence of Agellius 
 having broken from his fantastic and peevish super- 
 stition. 
 
 Still, however, he was not without anxiety, now that 
 the severe measures directed against the Christians 
 were in progress. No overt act indeed, beyond the 
 publication of the edict, had been taken in Sicca, — pro- 
 bably would be taken at all. The worst was, that 
 something must be done to make a show; he could 
 have wished that some of the multitude of townspeople, 
 half suspected of Christianity, had stood firm, and 
 suffered themselves to be tortured and executed. One 
 or two would have been enough ; but the magistracy 
 got no credit with the central government for zeal and 
 activity, if no Christians were made an example of. 
 Yet still it was a question whether the strong acts at 
 Carthage and elsewhere would not suffice, though the 
 lesser towns did nothing. At least, while the popu- 
 lace was quiet, there was nothing to press for severity. 
 There were no rich men in Sicca to tempt the cupidity 
 of the informer or the magistrate; no political par- 
 tisans among them, who had made enemies with this 
 or that class of the community. But, supposing a 
 bad feeling to rise in the populace, supposing the 
 magistrates to have ill-wishers and rivals, — and what 
 men in power had not ? — who might be glad to catch 
 them tripping, and make a case against them at Eome, 
 why, it must be confessed that Agellius was nearly the 
 only victim who could be pitched upon. He washed 
 Callista no harm, but if a Christian must be found 
 and held up in terrorem, he would rather it was a 
 person like her, w^ithout connexions and home, than 
 the member of any decent family of Sicca, whose fair 
 fame would be compromised by a catastrophe. How- 
 ever, she was not a Christian, and Agellius ivas, at 
 least by profession ; and his fear was lest Juba should 
 be riglit in his estimate of his brother's character. 
 Juba had said that Agellius could be as obstinate as 
 i2 
 
IIQ CALLISTA ; 
 
 lie was ordinarily indolent and yielding, and Jucnndus 
 dreaded lest, if he were rudely charged with Chr's- 
 tianity, and bidden to renounce it under pain of 
 punishment, he would rebel against the tyrannical 
 order, and go to prison and to deatli out of sheer 
 perverseness or sense of honour. 
 
 With these perplexities before him, he could find 
 nothing better than the following plan of action, 
 which had been in his mind for some time. While the 
 edict remained inoperative, he would do nothing at all, 
 and let Agellius go on with his country occupations, 
 M'hich would keep him out of the way. But if any 
 disposition appeared of a popular commotion, or a 
 movement on the part of the magistracy, he deter- 
 mined to get possession of Agellius, and forcibly con- 
 fine him in his own house in Sicca. He hoped that 
 in the case of one so young, so uncommitted, he should 
 have influence with the municipal authorities, or at 
 the prsetorium, or in the camp (for the camp and the 
 prsetorium were under different jurisdictions in the 
 proconsulate) to keep Agellius from a public inquiry 
 into his religious tenets, or, if this could not be, to 
 smuggle him out of the city. He was ready to afiirm 
 solemnly that his nephew was no Christian, though he 
 was touched in the head, and, from an afiiection pa- 
 rallel to hydrophobia, to which the disciples of Galen 
 ought to turn their attention, was sent into convul- 
 sions on the sight of an altar. His father, indeed, 
 was a malignant old atheist, — there was no harm in 
 being angry with the dead, — but it was very hard the 
 son should sufter for his father's offence. If he must 
 be judged of by his parents, let him rather have the 
 advantage of the thorough loyalty and religiousness of 
 his mother, a most zealous old lady, in high repute in 
 the neighbourhood of Sicca for her theurgic know- 
 ledge, a staunch friend of the imperial government 
 Avhich had before now been indebted to her for im- 
 portant information, and as staunch a hater of the 
 Christians. Such Avas the plan of proceedings re- 
 
A. SKETCn OF THE TIIIED CENTTJRY. 117 
 
 solved on hj Juciindus before be received tbe news of 
 bis nepbew's serious malady. It did not reacb bim 
 till many days after. He did not go to see bim, first, 
 lest be sboLild be supposed to be in communication 
 witb bim ; next, as baving no respect for tbat romantic 
 sort of generosity wbicb risks tbe cbances of conta- 
 gion for tbe absurd ceremony of paying a compliment. 
 It was tbus tbat Jucundus addressed bimself to tbe 
 present state of affairs, and anticipated tbe cbances of 
 tbe future. Ab to Aristo, be bas very little personal 
 interest in tbe matter. His sister migbt bave tbwarted 
 bim in affairs wbicb lay nearer bis beart tban tbe 
 moral emancipation of Agellius ; and as sbe generally 
 complied with bis suggestions and wisbes, whatever 
 tbey were, be did not grudge ber liberty of action in 
 tbis instance. 'Nov bad tbe occurrence wbicb bad 
 taken place any great visible effect upon Callista 
 berself. She bad lost ber right to be indignant with 
 ber brother, and sbe resigned, or rather abandoned 
 berself to ber destiny. Her better feelings bad been 
 brought out for the moment in ber conversation with 
 Agellius ; but they were not ber ordinary ones. True 
 she was tired, but she was the slave, of the world ; and 
 Agellius had only made ber more sceptical tban before 
 tliat there was any service better. So at least she 
 said to herself; she said it was fantastic to go else- 
 where for good, and tbat if life was short, then, as lier 
 brother said, it was necessary to make tbe most of it. 
 
 And meanwhile, what of Agellius bimself? why, it 
 will be some little time before Agellius will be in a con- 
 dition to moralize upon any thing. His faithful slave 
 half carried, half drew him into the cottage, and 
 stretched bim upon bis bed. Then, baving sufficient 
 skill for tbe ordinary illnesses of the country, though 
 this was more tban an ordinary fever, be drew blood 
 from him, gave bim a draught of herbs, and left him 
 to the slow but safe processes of nature to restore 
 bim. It could not be affirmed tbat be was not in con- 
 
118 CALLISTA ; 
 
 siderable clanger of life, yet youtli carries hope with it, 
 and his attendant had little to fear for his recovery. 
 For some days certainly Agellius had no apprehension 
 of any thing, except of restlessness and distress, of 
 sleepless nights or dreary miserable dreams. At length 
 one morning, as he was lying on his back, with his 
 eyes shut, it came into his mind to ask himself wlie- 
 ther Sunday would ever come. He had been accus- 
 tomed upon the first day of the week to say some 
 particular prayers and psalms, and unite himself in 
 spirit with his brethren beyond seas. And then he 
 tried to remember the last Sunday ; and the more he 
 thought, the less he could remember it, till he began 
 to think that mouths had gone without a Sunday. 
 This he was certain of, that he had lost reckoning, for 
 he had made no notches for the days for a long while 
 past, and unless his slave Aspar knew, there was no 
 one to tell him. Here he got so puzzled, that it was 
 like one of the bad dreams which had worried him. 
 He felt it affect his head, and he was obliged to give 
 up the inquiry. 
 
 From this time his sleep was better and more re- 
 freshing for several days ; he was more collected wlien 
 he was awake, and was able to ask himself why he lay 
 there, and what had happened to him. Then gradually 
 his memory began to return, like the dawning of the 
 day; the cause and the circumstances of his recent 
 visit to the city, point after point, came up, and he 
 felt first wonder, and then certainty. He recollected 
 the Forum, and then the edict ; a solemn, overpower- 
 ing emotion here seized him, and for a while he dared 
 not think more. "When he recovered, and tried to 
 pursue the events of the day, he found himself un- 
 equal to the task ; all was dark, except that he had 
 some vague rem-embrance of thirsting, and some one 
 giving him to drink, and then his saying with the 
 Psalmist, " Transivimus per ignem et aquam." 
 
 He opened his eyes and looked about him. He 
 was at home. There was some one at the bed-head 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEINTURT. 119 
 
 whom he could not see hanging over him, and he was 
 too weak to raise himself and so command a view of 
 him. He waited patient! v, being too feeble to have 
 any great anxiety on the subject. Presently a voice 
 addressed him : " You are recovering, my son," it 
 said. 
 
 " Who are you ? " said Agellius abruptly. The 
 person spoken to applied his mouth to Agellius's ear, 
 and uttered lowly several sacred names, 
 
 Agellius would have started up had he been strong 
 enough ; he could but sinlc down upon his rushes in 
 agitation. 
 
 " Be content to know no more at present," said the 
 stranger, "but praise God, as I do. You know 
 enough for your present strength. It is your act of 
 obedience for the day." 
 
 It was a deep, clear,, peaceful, authoritative voice. 
 In his present state, as we have said, it cost Agellius 
 no great effort to mortify curiosity ; and the accents 
 of that voice soothed him, and the mystery employed 
 his mind, and had something pleasing and attractive 
 in it. Moreover, about the main point there was no 
 mystery, and could be no mistake, that he was in the 
 hands of a Christian ecclesiastic. 
 
 The stranger occupied himself for a time with a 
 book of prayers which he carried about him, and 
 then again with the duties of a sick bed. He sprinkled 
 vinegar over Agellius's face and about the room, and 
 supplied him with the refreshment of cooling fruit. 
 He kept the flies from tormenting him, and did his 
 best so to arrange his posture that he might suffer 
 least from his long lying. In the morning and even- 
 ing he let in the air, and excluded the sultry noon. 
 In these various occupations he was from time to time 
 removed to a distance from the patient, who thus had 
 an opportunity of observing him. The stranger was 
 of middle height, upright, and well-proportioned; he 
 was dressed in a peasant's or slaA^e's dark tunic. His 
 face was rather round than long ; his hair black, yet 
 
120 ■ CALLTSTA ; 
 
 witli tbe promise of greyness, with what might be 
 baldness in the crown, or a priest's tonsure. His 
 short beard curled round his chin ; his complexion was 
 very clear. But the most striking point about him 
 was his eyes, they were of a light or greyish blue, 
 transparent, and shining like precious stones. 
 
 Prom the day that they first interchanged words, 
 the priest said some short prayers from time to time 
 with Agellius, — the Lord's Prayer, and portions of the 
 Psalms. Afterwards, when he was well enough to 
 converse, Agellius was struck with the inexpressible 
 peculiarity of his manner. It was self-collected, 
 serene, gentle, tender, unobtrusive, unstudied. It 
 enabled him to say things severe and even stern, with- 
 out startling, offending, or repelling the hearer. He 
 spoke very little about himself, though from time to 
 time points of detail were elicited of his history in the 
 course of conversation. He said that his name was 
 Caecilius. Aspar, when he entered the room, would 
 kneel down and offer to kiss the stranger's sandal, 
 though the latter generally managed to prevent it. 
 
 Caecilius did not speak much about himself; but 
 Agellius, on the other hand, found it a relief to tell out 
 his own history, and reflect upon and describe his own 
 feelings. As he lay on his bed, he half soliloquized, 
 half addressed himself to the stranger. Sometimes he 
 required an answer ; sometimes he seemed to require 
 none. Once he asked suddenly, after a long silence, 
 whether a man could be baptized twice ; and when the 
 priest answered distinctly in the negative, Agellius 
 replied that if so, he thought it would be best not to 
 be baptized till the hour of death. It was a question, 
 he said, which had perplexed him a good deal, but he 
 never had had any one to converse with on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 Caecilius answered, "But how could you promise 
 yourself that you would be able to obtain the sacra- 
 ment at the last moment ? The water and the ad- 
 ministrator might come just too late ; and then where 
 
A. SKETCn OF THE TIIIllI) CENTURT. 121 
 
 would you be, my son ? And then again, liow do you 
 know you would wish it ? Is your will simply in 
 your own power ? ' Carpe diem ' ;' take God's gift while 
 you can." 
 
 " The benefit is so immense," answered Agellius, 
 "that one would wish, if one could, to enter into the 
 unseen world without losing its fulness. This can- 
 not be, if a long time elapses between baptism and 
 death." 
 
 "You are, then, of the number of those," said 
 Cseeilius, " who would cheat their Maker of His claim 
 on their life, if they could (as it is said) in their last 
 moment cheat the devil." 
 
 Agellius continuing silent, Cajcilius added, "You 
 want to enjoy this world, and to inherit the next ; is 
 it so?" 
 
 " I am puzzled, my head is weak, father ; I do not 
 see my way to speak." Presently he said, "Sin after 
 baptism is so awful a matter ; there is no second laver 
 for sin ; and then again, to sin against baptism is so 
 great a sin." 
 
 The priest said, " In baptism Grod becomes your 
 Eather ; your own Grod ; your worship ; your love ; — 
 can you give up all this through your whole life? 
 Would you live ' without God in this world ?' " 
 
 Tears came into Agellius's eyes, and his throat be- 
 came oppressed. At last he said distinctly and ten- 
 derly, "No." 
 
 After a while the priest said, " I suppose what you 
 fear is the fire of judgment, and the prison ; not lest 
 you should fall away and be lost." 
 
 "I know, my dear father," answered the sick youth, 
 " that I have no right to reckon on any thing, or pro- 
 mise myself any thing; yet somehow I have never 
 feared hell, — though I ought, I know I ought ; but 
 I 4iave not. I deserve the worst, but somehow 1 
 have thought that God would lead me on. He ever 
 has done so." 
 
 * " Seize the opportunity." 
 
122 CALLISTA ; 
 
 "True," said C.Tcilius ; "then it is that you fear 
 tlie fire of judgment. You'd put off baptism for fear 
 of that fire.'" 
 
 "I did not say, I ivoidd,'' answered Agelllus ; "I 
 wanted you to explain the thing to me." 
 
 "Which would you rather, Agellius, be without 
 Grod here, or suffer the fire there ?" 
 
 Agellius smiled ; he said faintly, " I take Him for 
 my portion here and there : He will be in the fire with 
 me." 
 
 Agellius lay quiet for some hours, and seemed 
 asleep. Suddenly he began again, "I was baptized 
 when I was only six years old. I'm glad you do not 
 think it was wilful in me, and wrong. I cannot tell 
 what took me," he presently continued. " It was a 
 fervour ; I have had nothing of the kind since. What 
 does our Lord say ? 1 can't remember : ' Novissima 
 pejora prioribus ^.' " 
 
 He continued the train of thought another day, or 
 rather the course of argument ; for on the thought 
 itself his mind seemed ever to be working. " My 
 spring is gone," he said, "and I have no summer. 
 Nay, I have had no spring ; it was a day, not a season. 
 It came, and it went ; where am I now ? Can spring 
 ever return ? I wish to begin again in right earnest." 
 
 "Thank God, my son, for this great mercy," said 
 Csecilius, "that, though you have relaxed, you have 
 never severed yourself from the peace of the Church. 
 You have not denied your God." 
 
 Agellius sighed bitterly. " O my father," he said, 
 "'Erravi, sicut ovis, quae periit^.' " I have been 
 very near denying Him, at least by outward act. You 
 do not know me ; you cannot know what has come on 
 me lately. And I dare not look back on it, my heart 
 is so weak. My father, how am I to repent of what 
 is past, when I dare not think of it ? To think o^' it 
 is to renew the sin." 
 
 2 " The last state is worse than the first." 
 
 3 *« I have wandered like a sheep that has been lost." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE TniE-D CENTUEY. 123 
 
 " ' Puer mens, noli timere.' " ans^Yered the priest; 
 " 'si transieris per ignem, odor ejus «ou erit in te ■*.' 
 In penance, the grace of Grod carries you without 
 harm through thoughts and words which would harm 
 you apart from it." 
 
 "Ah, penance!" said Agcllius ; "I recollect the 
 catechism. AVhat is it, father? a new grace, I know ; 
 a plank after baptism. May I have it ?" 
 
 " You are not strong enough yet to think of these 
 things, Agellius," answered CTecilius. " Please God, 
 you shall get well. Then you shall review all your 
 life, and bring it out in order before Him ; and He, 
 through me, will wipe away all that has been amiss. 
 Praise Him who has spared you for this." 
 
 It was too much for the patient in his weak state ; 
 he could but shed happy tears. 
 
 Another day he had sat up in bed. He looked 
 at his hands, from which the skin was peeling; he 
 felt his lips, and it was the same with them ; and his 
 hair seemed coming off also. He smiled and said, 
 " E-enovabitur, ut aquila, juventus mea^" 
 
 Ca3cilius. responded, as before, with sacred words 
 which were new to Agellius : " ' Qui sperant in Domino 
 mutabunt fortitudinem ; assument pennas, sicut aqui- 
 ls6^.' ' Sursum corda!' you must soar, Agellius." 
 
 " ' Sursum corda ! ' " answered he ; "I know those 
 words. They are old friends ; where have I heard 
 them ? I can't recollect ; but they are in my earliest 
 memories. Ah ! but my father, my heart is below, not 
 above. I want to tell you all. I want to tell you 
 about one who has enthralled my heart ; who has 
 divided it with my True Love. But I daren't speak of 
 her, as I have said ; I dare not speak, lest I be carried 
 away. O, I blush to say it ; she is a heathen ! May 
 
 * " My child, be not afraid ; if tliou passest through the fire, its 
 smell shall not adhere to thee." 
 
 5 " My youth shall be renewed like an eagle." 
 
 '' " They that hope in the Lord shall change (moult) their 
 strength : they shall take wings as eagles." 
 
124 CALLISTA ; 
 
 God save her soul. Will He come to me, and not to 
 her ? ' Investigabiles viae ejus ^' " 
 
 He remained silent for some time ; then he said, 
 " Father, I mean to dedicate myself to God, simply, 
 absolutely, with His grace. I will be His, and He 
 shall be mine. JNTo one shall come between us. But 
 O this weak heart!" 
 
 " Keep your good resolves till you are stronger," 
 said the priest. " It is easy to make them on a sick 
 bed. You must first 'reckon the charges.' " 
 
 AgelHus smiled. " I know the passage, father," he 
 said, and he repeated the sacred words. "_If any man 
 come to me, and hate not his father and mother, and 
 wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and 
 his own life also, he cannot be My disciple." 
 
 Another time Agelhus said: "The Martyrs ; surely 
 the old bishop used to say sometliing about the Mar- 
 tyrs. He spoke of a second baptism, and called it a 
 baptism of blood ; and said, ' Might his soul be with 
 the Martyrs ! ' Pather, would not this wash out every 
 thing, as the first ?" 
 
 It was now Csecilius who smiled, and his eyes shorjo 
 like the sapphires of the Holy City ; and he seemed 
 the ideal of him who, when 
 
 " called upon to fare 
 Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined 
 Great issues, good or bad for humankind, 
 Is happy as a lover, and attired 
 With sudden brightness, like a man inspired." 
 
 However, he soon controlled himself, and said, " Quo 
 ego vado, non potes me modo sequi ; sequeris autem 
 postea^" 
 
 7 " Unsearchable are his ways." 
 
 8 " Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now ; but thou shalt 
 follow me afterwards." 
 
A SKETCK or THE THIKD CENTUEX. 125 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Thts sort of intercourse, growing in frequency and 
 fulness, went on for about a week^ till Agellius was 
 able to walk with support, and to leave the cottage. 
 The priest and his own slave took him between them, 
 and seated him one evening in sight of the glorious 
 prospect, traversed by the long shadow of the far 
 mountains, behind which the sun was making its way. 
 The air was filled with a thousand odours ; tlie bril- 
 liant colouring of the western heavens was contrasted 
 with the more sober but varied tints of the rich coun- 
 try. The wheat and barley harvest was over ; but the 
 beans were late, and still stood in the fields. The 
 olives and chestnut-trees were full of fruit ; the early 
 fig was supplying the markets with food ; and the 
 numerous vineyards were patiently awaiting the suns 
 of the next month slowly to perfect their present pro- 
 mise. The beautiful scene had a moral dignity, from 
 its associations with human sustenance and well being. 
 The inexpressible calmness of evening was flung, like a 
 robe, over it. Its sweetness was too much for one 
 who had been confined to the monotony of a sick 
 room, and was still an invalid. He sat silent, and in 
 tears. It was life from the dead ; and he felt he had 
 risen to a different life. And thus he came out even- 
 ing after evening ; convalescent, gradually and surely 
 advancing to perfect restoration of his health. 
 
 One evening he said, after feeding his eyes and 
 
126 CALLISTA ; 
 
 thoughts for some time with the prospect, " ' Mansneti 
 hereditabimt terram^' They alone have real enjoy- 
 ment of this earth who believe in its Maker. Every 
 breath of air seems to Avhisper how good He is to 
 me." 
 
 Csecilius answered, " These sights are the shadows 
 of that fairer paradise which is our home, where there 
 is no beast of prey, no venomous reptile, no sin. My 
 child, should I not feel this more than you ? Those 
 who are shut up in crowded cities see but the work of 
 man, which is evil. It is the compensation of my 
 flight from Carthage, that I am brought before the 
 face of Grod." 
 
 " The heathen worship all this, as if God Himself," 
 said Agellius ; " how strange it seems to me that any 
 one can forget the Creator in His works!" 
 
 Csecilius was silent for a moment, and sighed; he 
 then said, "You have ever been a Christian, Agel- 
 lius." 
 
 "And you have not, my father?" answered he; 
 " well, you have earned that grace which came to me 
 freely." 
 
 "Agellius," said the priest, "it comes freely to all; 
 and is only merited, when it has already prevailed. 
 Yet I think you earned it too, else why the difference 
 between you and your brother?" 
 
 "What do you know of us?" asked Agellius 
 quickly. 
 
 "Not a great deal," answered he, "yet something. 
 Three or four years back an effort was made to revive 
 the Christian spirit in these parts, and to do some- 
 thing for the Churches of the proconsulate, and to fill 
 up the vacant sees, Nothing has come of it as yet; 
 but steps were taken towards it: one was to obtain 
 a return of the Christians who remained in them. 
 I was sent here for that purpose, and in this v/ay 
 heard of you and your brother. When my life was 
 
 ^ " The meek shall inherit the earth." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CEIfTUET. 127 
 
 threatened by the persecution, and I had to flee, I 
 thought of your cottage. I was obliged to act secretly, 
 as we did not know friends from foes." 
 
 " You were led here for other purposes towards me, 
 my father," said Agellius ; "yet you cannot have a 
 safer refuge. There is nothing to disturb, nothing to 
 cause suspicion here. In this harvest time numbers 
 of strangers pour in from the mountains, of various 
 races ; there is nothing to distinguish you from one of 
 them, and my brother is away, convoying some grain 
 to Carthage. Persecution drove you hither, but you 
 have not been suffered to be idle, my father; you 
 have brought home a wanderer." He said, after a 
 pause, " I am well enough to go to confession to you 
 now. May it be this evening ?" 
 
 "It will be well," answered Csecilius; "how long I 
 shall still be here, I cannot tell. I amx expecting my 
 trusty messenger with despatches. It is now three 
 days since he was here. However, this I say without 
 misgiving, we do not part for long. What do you 
 here longer ? you must come to me. I must prepare 
 you, and send you back to Sicca, to collect and restore 
 this scattered flock." 
 
 Agellius turned, and leaned against the priest's 
 shoulder, and laughed. "I am laughing," he said, 
 " not from lightness of mind, but from the depth of 
 surprise and of joy that you should so think of me. 
 It was a dream which once I had ; but impossible ! 
 you do not think that I, weak I, shall ever be able to 
 do more than save my own soul?" 
 
 " Tou will save your own soul by saving the souls 
 of others," said Csecilius; "my child, I could tell you 
 more things, if I thought it good for you." 
 
 " But, my father, I have so weak, so soft a heart," 
 cried Agellius ; " what am I to do with myself? I am 
 not of the temper of which heroes are made ?" 
 
 "'Yirtus in infirmitate perficitur^,' " said the 
 
 2 " Power is made perfect in infirmity," 
 
128 CALLISTA ; 
 
 priest. "What! are you to do «72;/ thing of yourself? 
 or are you to be simply the instrument of Another ? 
 "We shall have the same termination, you and myself, 
 but you long after me." 
 
 "Ah, father, because you ^ill burn out so much 
 more quickly !" said Ageliius. 
 
 "I think," said Csecilius, "I see my messenger; 
 there is some one who has made his way by stealth 
 into the garden, or at least not by the beaten way." 
 
 There was a visitor, as Ccecilius had said ; however, 
 it was not his messenger, but Juba, who approached, 
 looking with great curiosity at Csecilius, and absorbed 
 in the sight. Csccilius in turn regarded him sted- 
 fastly, and then said to AgeUius, "It is your brother." 
 
 " What brings you here, Juba?" said the latter. 
 
 "I have been away on a distant errand," said Juba, 
 "and find you have been ill. Is this your nurse?" 
 he eyed him almost sternly, and added, " 'Tis a Chris- 
 tian priest." 
 
 "Has Ageliius no acquaintance but Christians?" 
 asked Ca^cilius. 
 
 "Acquaintance! O surely!" answered Juba; 
 "agreeable, innocent, sweet acquaintance of another 
 sort; myself to begin with. My lad," he continued, 
 " you did not rise to their price, but you did your 
 best." 
 
 " Juba," said his brother, "if you have any business 
 here, say it, and have done. I am not strong enough 
 to hold any altercation with you." 
 
 " Business !" said Juba, " I can find quite business 
 enough here, if I choose. This is a priest of the 
 Christians. I am sure of it." 
 
 Csecilius looked at him with such calmness and 
 benevolence, that at length Juba turned away his eyes 
 with something of irritation. He said, "If I am a 
 priest, I am here to claim you as one of my children." 
 
 Juba winced, but said scornfully, " You are mis- 
 taken there, father ; speak to those who own you. I 
 am a free man." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 129 
 
 " Mj son," Csecilius answered, " you have been under 
 instruction ; it is your duty to go forward, not back." 
 
 " What do you know about me?" said Juba; "he 
 has been telling." 
 
 " Your face, your manner, your voice, tells a tale. I 
 need no information from others. I have heard of 
 you years ago ; now I see you." 
 
 " What do you see in me?" said Juba. 
 
 " I see pride in bodily shape, treading down faith 
 and conviction," said Csecilius. 
 
 Juba neighed rather than laughed, so fierce and 
 scornful was its expression. " What you slaves call 
 pride," he said, "I call dignity." 
 
 " You believe in a God, Creator of heaven and earth, 
 as certainly as I do," said the priest, "but you de- 
 liberately set yourself against Him." 
 
 Juba smiled. "I am as free," he said, "in w?y place, 
 as He in His." 
 
 " You mean," answered Csecilius, " free to do wrong, 
 and free to suffer for it." 
 
 " You may call it wrong, and call it suffering," 
 replied Juba ; " but for me, I do not call wrong what 
 He calls wrong ; and if He puts me to pain, it is be- 
 cause He is the stronger." 
 
 The priest stopped awhile : there was no emotion 
 on either side. It was strange to see them so pas- 
 sionless, so antagonistic, like St. Michael and his ad- 
 versary. 
 
 "There is that wnthin you," said Ca^cilius, "which 
 speaks as I speak. That inward voice takes the part 
 of the Creator, and condemns you." 
 
 " He put it there," said Juba, " and 1 will take 
 care to put it out." 
 
 " Then He will have justice as well as power on His 
 side," said the priest. 
 
 " I will never fawn or crouch," said Juba ; " I will 
 be lord and master in my own soul. Every faculty 
 shall be mine ; there shall be no divided allegiance." 
 
 Csecilius paused again ; he said at length, " My 
 
 K 
 
130 CALLISTA , 
 
 son, my soul tells me, or rather my Maker tells me, 
 and your Maker, that some heavy judgment is im- 
 pending over you. Do penance ^hile you may." 
 
 "Tell your forebodings to women and children," 
 said Juba ; " I am prepared for any thing, I will not 
 be crushed." 
 
 Agellius was not strong enough to bear a part in 
 such a scene. " Father," he said, " it is his way, but 
 don't believe him. He has better thoughts. Away 
 with you, Juba, you are not wanted here." 
 
 "Agellius," said the priest, " such words are not 
 strange to me. I am not young, and have seen much of 
 the world ; and my very ofBce and position elicits from 
 others blasphemies from time to time. I knew a man 
 who carried out his bad thoughts and words into act. 
 Abjuring his Maker, he took an oath of slavery to the 
 evil one. He betrayed his brethren to death. He 
 lived on year after year, and became old. He was 
 smitten with illness ; then I first saw him. I made 
 him contemplate a picture ; it was the picture of the 
 Good Shepherd. I dwelt on the vain eftbrts of the 
 poor sheep to get out of the fold ; its irrational aver- 
 sion to its home, and its desperate resolution to force 
 a way through the prickly fence. It was pierced and 
 torn with the sharp aloe ; at last it lay imprisoned in 
 its stern embrace, motionless and bleeding. Then the 
 Shepherd, though He had to wound His own hands in 
 the work, disengaged it, and brought it back. God 
 has His own times ; His power went along with the 
 picture, and the man was moved. I said, ' This is His 
 return for your enmity : He is determined to have 
 you, cost Him what it will.' I need not go through 
 the many things that followed, but the issue may be 
 told in few words. He came back ; he lived a life of 
 penance at the Church's door ; he received the peace 
 of the Church in immediate prospect of the persecu- 
 tion, and has within the last ten days died a martyr's 
 death." 
 
 Juba had listened as if he was constrained against 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 131 
 
 his will. AVhen the priest stopped he started, and 
 began to speak impetuously, and unlike his ordinary 
 tone. Ho placed his hands violently against his ears, 
 i' Stop ! " he said, " no more. J will not betray them ; 
 no : I need not betray them ;" he laughed ; " the black 
 moor does the work himself. Look," he cried, seizing 
 the priest's arm, and pointing to a part of the forest, 
 which happened to be to windward. " You are in their 
 number, priest, who can foretel the destinies of others, 
 and are blind to their own. Kead there, the task is 
 not hard, your coming fortunes." 
 
 His finger was directed to a spot where, amid the 
 thick foliage, the gleam of a pool or of a marsh was 
 visible. The various waters round about issuing 
 from the gravel, or drained from the nightly damps, 
 had run into a hollow, filled with the decaying vegeta- 
 tion of former years, and were languidly filtered out 
 into a brook, more healthy than the vast reservoir 
 itself. Its banks were bordered with a deep, broad 
 layer of mud, a transition substance between the rich 
 vegetable matter wliich it once had been, and the 
 multitudinous world of insect life which it Avas be- 
 coming. A cloud or mist at this time was hanging 
 over it, high in air. A harsh and shrill sound, a 
 whizzing or a chirping, proceeded from that cloud to 
 the ear of the attentive listener. What these indica- 
 tions portended was plain. "There," said Juba, "is 
 what will tell more against you than imperial edict, 
 informer, or proconsular apparitor ; and no work of 
 mine." 
 
 He turned down the bank and disappeared. Agel- 
 lius and his guest looked at each other in dismay. 
 'It is the locusts," they whispered to each other as 
 they went back into the cottage. 
 
 £ 2 
 
132 CALLISTA : 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 TnE plague of locusts, one of the most awful visita- 
 tioDS to which the countries included in the Eoman 
 empire were exposed, extended from the Atlantic to 
 Etliiopia, from Arabia to India, and from the Kile and 
 lied Sea to Greece and the north of Asia Minor. 
 Instances are recorded in history of clouds of the 
 devastating insect crossing the Black Sea to Poland, 
 and the Mediterranean to Lombardy. It is as nu- 
 merous in its species as it is wide in its range of ter- 
 ritory. Brood follows brood, with a sort of family 
 likeness, yet with distinct attributes, as we read in the 
 prophets of the Old Testament, from whom Bochart 
 tells us it is possible to enumerate as many as ten 
 kinds. It wakens into existence and activity as early 
 as the month of March ; but instances are not wanting, 
 as in our present history, of its appearance as late as 
 June. Even one flight comprises myriads upon myriads 
 passing imagination, to which the drops of rain or the 
 sands of the sea are the only fit comparison ; and 
 hence it is almost a proverbial mode of expression in 
 the East (as may be illustrated by the sacred pages 
 to which we just now referred), by way of describing a 
 vast invadiug army, to liken it to the locusts. So 
 dense are they, when upon the wing, that it is no ex- 
 aggeration to say tliat they hide the sun, from which 
 circumstance indeed their name in Arabic is derived. 
 And so ubiquitous are they when they liave alighted 
 
A. SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 133 
 
 on the earth, that they simply cover or clothe its sur- 
 face. 
 
 This last characteristic is stated in the sacred ac- 
 count of the plagues of Egypt, where their faculty of 
 devastation is also mentioned. The corrupting fly 
 and the bruising and prostrating hail preceded them 
 in the series of visitations, but tJiei/ came to do the 
 work of ruin more thoroughly. For not only the 
 crops and fruits, but the foliage of the forest itself, 
 nay, tlie small twigs and the bark of the trees are the 
 victims of their curious and energetic rapacity. Tliey 
 have been known even to gnaw the door-posts of the 
 bouses. Nor do they execute their task in so slovenly 
 a way, that, as they have succeeded other plagues, so 
 they may have successors themselves. They take pains 
 to spoil what they leave. Like the Harpies, they 
 smear every thing that they touch with a miserable 
 slime, which has the effect of a virus in corroding, or, 
 as some say, in scorching and burning. And then, 
 perhaps, as if all this were little, when they can do 
 nothing else, they die ; as if out of sheer malevolence 
 to man, for the poisonous elements of their nature are 
 then let loose and dispersed abroad, and create a pesti- 
 lence •, and they manage to destroy many more by 
 their death than in their life. 
 
 Such are the locusts, — whose existence the ancient 
 heretics brought forward as their palmary proof that 
 there was an evil creator, and of whom an Arabian 
 writer shows his national horror, when he says that 
 they have the head of a horse, the eyes of an elephant, 
 tlie neck of a bull, the horns of a stag, the breast of a 
 lion, the belly of a scorpion, the wings of an eagle, the 
 legs of a camel, the feet of an ostrich, and the tail of 
 a serpent. 
 
 And now they are rushing upon a considerable tract 
 of that beautiful re-^ion of which we liavo spoken with 
 such admiration. The swarm to which Juba pointed 
 grew and grew till it became a compact body, as much 
 as a furlong square ; yet it was but the vanguard of 
 
134 CALLISTA ; 
 
 a series of similar hosts, formed one after another out 
 of the hot mould or sand, rising into the air like 
 clouds, enlarging into a dusky canopy, and then dis- 
 charged against the fruitful plain. At length the 
 huge innumerous mass was put into motion, and 
 began its career, darkening the face of day. As be- 
 caDie an instrument of divine power, it seemed to 
 have no volition of its own ; it was set off, it drifted, 
 with the wind, and thus made northwards, straight for 
 Sicca. Thus they advanced, host after host, for a 
 time wafted on the air, and gradually declining to the 
 earth, while fresh broods Avere carried over the first, 
 and neared the earth, after a longer flight, in tlieir 
 turn. For twelve miles did they extend from front 
 to rear, and their whizzing and hissing could be heard 
 for six miles on every side of them. The bright sun, 
 though hidden by them, illumined their bodies, and 
 was reflected from their quivering wings ; and as they 
 heavily fell earthward, they seemed like the innumera- 
 ble flakes of a yellow-coloured snow. And like snow 
 did they descend, a living carpet, or rather pall, 
 upon fields, crops, gardens, copses, groves, orchards, 
 vineyards, olive woods, orangeries, palm plantations, 
 and the deep forests, sparing nothing within their 
 reach, and where there was nothing to devour, lying 
 helpless in drifts, or crawling forward obstinately, as 
 they best might, with the hope of prey. They could 
 spare their hundred thousand soldiers twice or thrice 
 over, and not miss them ; their masses filled the 
 bottoms of the ravines and hollow ways, impeding the 
 traveller as he rode forward on his journey, and tram- 
 pled by thousands under his horse-hoofs. In vain was 
 all tliis overthrow and waste by the road-side ; in vain 
 their loss in river, pool, and watercourse. The poor 
 peasants hastily dug pits and trenches as their enemy 
 came on ; in vain they filled them from the wells or 
 with lighted stubble. Heavily and thickly did the 
 locusts fl\ll ; they were lavish of their lives ; they 
 choked the flame and the water, which destroyed them 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CEKTURT. 135 
 
 the while, and the vast living hostile armament still 
 moved on. 
 
 Tliey moved right on like soldiers in their ranks, 
 stopping at nothing, and straggling for nothing ; they 
 carried a broad furrow or wheal all across the country, 
 black and loathsome, while it was as green and smiling 
 on each side of them and in front, as it had been be- 
 fore they came. Before them, in the language of 
 prophets, was a paradise, and behind them a desert. 
 They are daunted by nothing ; they surmount walls 
 and hedges, and enter enclosed gardens or inhabited 
 houses. A rare and experimental vineyard has been 
 planted in a sheltered grove. The high winds of 
 Africa will not commonly allow the light trellice or 
 the slim pole ; but here the lofty poplar of Campania 
 has been possible, on which the vine plant mounts so 
 many yards into the air, that the poor grape-gatherers 
 bargain for a funeral pile and a tomb as one of the 
 conditions of their engagement. The locusts have 
 done what the winds and lightning could not do, and 
 the whole promise of the vintage, leaves and all, is 
 gone, and the slender stems are left bare. There is 
 another yard, less uncommon, but still tended with 
 more than common care ; each plant is kept within due 
 bounds by a circular trench round it, and by upright 
 canes on which it is to trail ; in an hour the solicitude 
 and long toil of the vine-dresser are lost, and his pride 
 humbled. There is a smiling farm ; another sort of 
 vine, of remarkable character, is found against the 
 farmhouse. This vine springs from one root, and 
 has clothed and matted with its many branches the 
 four walls. The whole of it is covered thick with 
 long clusters, which another month will ripen. On 
 every grape and leaf there is a locust. Into the dry 
 caves and pits, carefully strewed with straw, the 
 harvest-men have (safely, as they thought just now) 
 been lodging the far-famed African wheat. One grain 
 or root shoots up into ten, twenty, fifty, eighty, nay, 
 three or four hundred stalks ; sometimes the stalks 
 
136 CALLISTA ; 
 
 have two ears apiece, and these shoot off into a number 
 of lesser ones. These stores are intended for the 
 Eoman populace, but the locusts have been beforehand 
 witli them. The small patches of ground belouging 
 to the poor peasants up and down the country, for 
 raising the turnips, garlick, barley, water-melons, on 
 which they live, are the prey of these glutton invaders 
 as much as the choicest vines and olives. Nor have they 
 any reverence for the villa of the civic decurion or the 
 Eoman official. The neatly arranged kitchen garden, 
 with its cherries, plums, peaches, and apricots, is a 
 waste ; as the slaves sit round, in the kitchen in the first 
 court, at their coarse evening meal, the room is filled 
 with the invading force, and news comes to them that 
 the enemy has fallen upon the apples and pears in the 
 basement, and is at the same time plundering and 
 sacking the preserves of quince and pomegranate, and 
 revelling in the jars of precious oil of Cyprus and 
 Mendes in the store-rooms. 
 
 They come up to the walls of Sicca, and are flung 
 against them into the ditch. Not a moment's hesita- 
 tion or delay ; they recover their footing, they climb 
 up the wood or stucco, they surmount the parapet, or 
 they have entered in at the windows, filling the apart- 
 ments, and the most private and luxurious chambers, 
 not one or two, like straj^^iers at forao-e or rioters 
 after a victory, but in order of battle, and with the 
 array of an army. Choice plants or flowers about the 
 im2)luvia and ccysti, for ornament or refreshment, myr- 
 tles, oranges, pomegranates, the rose and the carna- 
 tion, have disappeared. They dim the bright marbles 
 of the walls and the gilding of the ceilings. They 
 enter the triclinium in the midst of the banquet ; they 
 crawl over the viands and spoil what they do not 
 devour. Unrelaxed by success and by enjoyment, on- 
 ward they go; a secret mysterious instinct keeps them 
 together, as if they had a king over them. They move 
 along the floor in so strange an order that they seem 
 to be a tessellated pavement themselves, and to be the 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 137 
 
 artificial embellishment of the place ; so true are tlieir 
 lines, and so perfect is the pattern they describe. On- 
 ward they go, to the market, to the temple sacrifices, 
 to the bakers' stores, to the cookshops, to the confec- 
 tioners, to the druggists ; nothing comes amiss to 
 them ; wherever man has aught to eat or drink, there 
 are they, reckless of death, strong of appetite, certain 
 of conquest. 
 
 They have passed on ; the men of Sicca sadly con- 
 gratulate themselves, and begin to look about them, and 
 to sum up their losses. Being the proprietors of the 
 neighbouring districts, and the purchasers of its pro- 
 duce^ they lament over the devastation, not because 
 the fair country is disfigured, but because income is 
 becoming scanty, and prices are becoming high. How 
 is a population of many thousands to be fed ? where 
 is the grain, where the melons, the figs, the dates, the 
 gourds, the beans, the grapes, to sustain and solace the 
 multitudes in their lanes, caverns, and garrets ? This 
 is another weighty consideration for the class well-to- 
 do in the world. The taxes too, and contributions, 
 the capitation tax, the percentage upon corn, the 
 various articles of revenues due to Eome, how are they 
 to be paid ? How are cattle to be provided for the 
 sacrifices and the tables of the wealthy ? One-half, at 
 least, of the supply of Sicca is cut ofi:'. No longer 
 slaves are seen coming into the city from the country 
 in troops with their baskets on their shoulders, or 
 beating forward the horse, or mule, or ox, overladen 
 with its burden, or driving in the dangerous cow or 
 the unresisting sheep. The animation of the place is 
 gone ; a gloom hangs over the Forum ; and if its fre- 
 quenters are still merry, there is something of sullen- 
 ness and recklessness in their mirth. The gods have 
 given the city up ; something or other has angered 
 them. Locusts, indeed, are no uncommon visitation, 
 but at an earlier season. Perhaps some temple has 
 been polluted, or some unholy rite practised, or some 
 secret conspiracy has spread. 
 
138 CALLISTA , 
 
 Another and a still worse calamity. The invaders, 
 as ^Ye have already hinted, could be more terrible still 
 in their overthrow than in their ravages. The inhaoit- 
 ants of the country had attempted, where they could, 
 to destroy th^n by fire and water. It would seem as 
 if the malignant animals had resolved that the suf- 
 ferers should have the benefit of this policy to the 
 full ; for they had not got more than twenty miles 
 beyond Sicca when they suddenly sickened and died. 
 When they thus had done all the mischief they could 
 by their living, when they thus had made their foul 
 maws the grave of every living thing, next they died 
 themselves, and made the desolated land their own 
 grave. They took from it its hundred forms and 
 varieties of beautiful life, and left it their own fetid 
 and poisonous carcases in payment. It was a sudden 
 catastrophe; they seem.ed making for the Mediter- 
 ranean, as if, like other great conquerors, they had 
 other M'orlds to subdue beyond it ; but, whether they 
 were overgorged or struck by some atmospheric change, 
 or that their time was come and they paid the debt of 
 nature, so it was that suddenly they fell, and their 
 glory came to nought, and all was vanity to them as 
 to others, and " their stench rose up, and their corrup- 
 tion rose up, because they had done proudly." 
 
 The hideous swarms lay dead in the moist steaming 
 underwoods, in the green swamps, in the sheltered 
 valleys, in the ditches and farrows of the fields, amid 
 the monuments of their own prowess, the ruined crops 
 and the dishonoured vineyards, A poisonous element, 
 issuing from their remains, mingled with the atmo- 
 sphere, and corrupted it. The dismayed peasant found 
 that a plague had begun ; a new visitation, not con- 
 fined to the territory which the enemy had made its 
 own, but extending fiir and wide, as the atmosphere 
 extends, in all directions. Their daily toil, no longer 
 claimed by the fruits of the earth, which have ceased 
 to exist, is now devoted to the object of ridding them- 
 selves of the deadly legacy which they have received 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIKD CENTURY. 139 
 
 in their stead. In vain ; it is their last toil ; the^ are 
 digging pits, they are raising piles, for their own 
 corpses, as well as for the bodies of their enemies. In- 
 vader and victim lie in the same grave, burn in the 
 same heap ; they sicken while they w^ork, and the 
 pestilence spreads. A new invasion is menacing Sicca, 
 in the shape of companies of peasants and slaves, with 
 their employers and overseers, nay, the farmers them- 
 selves and proprietors, the panic having broken the 
 bonds of discipline, rushing thither from famine and 
 infection as to a place of safety. The inhabitants of 
 the city are as frightened as they, and more energetic. 
 Tiiey determine to keep them at a distance ; the 
 gates are closed ; a strict cordon is drawn ; however, 
 by the continued pressure, numbers contrive to make 
 an entrance, as water into a vessel, or light through 
 the closed shutters, and anyhow the air cannot be 
 put in quarantine ; so the pestilence has the better of 
 it, and at last appears in the alleys and in the cellars 
 of Sicca. 
 
140 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " WEETCHED minds of men ! O blind hearts !" truly 
 cries out a great heathen poet, but on grounds far 
 other than the true ones. The true ground of such a 
 lamentation is, that they do not interpret the signs of 
 the times and of the world as He intends who has 
 placed these signs in the heavens ; that when Mane, 
 Thecel, Phares is written upon the ethereal wall, they 
 have no inward faculty to read them withal ; and that 
 when they go elsewhere for one learned in tongues, 
 instead of taking Daniel, who is used to converse with 
 angels, they rely on Magi or Chaldeans, who know 
 only the languages of earth. So it was with the miser- 
 able population of Sicca now; half famished, seized 
 "with a pestilence which would rage before it assuaged, 
 perplexed and oppressed by the recoil upon them of 
 the population whom they had from time to time sent 
 out into the surrounding territory, or from whom they 
 had supplied their markets, they never fancied that 
 the real cause of the visitation which we have been 
 describing was their own iniquity in their Maker,s 
 sight, that His arm inflicted it, and that its natural 
 and direct interpretation was, " Do penance, and be 
 converted." On the contrary, they looked only at 
 their own vain idols, and at the vain rites which these 
 idols demanded, and they thought there was no surer 
 escape from their misery than by upholding a lie, 
 and putting down all who revolted from it ; and thus 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUKT. 141 
 
 tlie vislfcatiou which was sent to do them good tiirned 
 through their wilful blindness to their greater condem- 
 nation. 
 
 The Forum, which at all times was the resort of 
 idleness and dissipation, now became more and more 
 the haunt of famine and sickness, of robust frames 
 without work, of slavish natures virtually and for the 
 time emancipated and uncontrolled, of youth and pas- 
 sion houseless and shelterless. In groups and com- 
 panies, in and out of the porticoes, on the steps of the 
 temples, and about the booths and stalls of the mar- 
 ket, a multitude grows day by day, from the town and 
 from the country, and of all the various races which 
 town and country contain. The civil magistracy and 
 the civil force, to w^hich the peace of the city was 
 committed, were not equal to such an emergency as 
 the present ; and the milites stotionarii, a sort of gar- 
 rison who represented the Eoman power, though they 
 were ready to act against either magistrates or mob 
 impartially, had no tenderness for either, when in colli- 
 sion with each other. Indeed the bonds of society were 
 broken, and every political element was at war with 
 every other, in a case of such great common calamity, 
 when every one was angry with every one else, for 
 want of some clearly defined object against which the 
 common anger might be discharged with unanimity. 
 
 They had almost given over sacrificing, and consult- 
 ing the flame or the entrails ; for no respite or reversal 
 of their sufterings Lad followed their most assiduous 
 acts of deprecation. Moreover, the omens were generally 
 considered by the priests to have been unpropitious 
 or adverse. A sheep had been discovered to have, 
 instead of a liver, something very like a gizzard ; a sow 
 had chewed and swallowed the flowers with which it 
 had been embellished for the sacrifice ; and a calf, after 
 receiving the fatal blow, instead of lying down and 
 dying, dashed into the temple, dripping blood upon 
 the pavement as it went, and at last fell and expired 
 
142 CALLISTA ; 
 
 just before the sacred adytum. In despair the people 
 took to fortune-telling and its attendant arts. Old 
 crones were found in plenty with their strange rites, 
 the stranger the more welcome. Trenches were dug 
 in by-places for sacrifices to the infernal gods ; amu- 
 lets, rings, counters, tablets, pebbles, nails, bones, 
 feathers, Ephesian or Egyptian legends, were in re- 
 quest, and raised the hopes, or beguiled and occupied 
 the thoughts, of those who else would have been 
 directly dwelling on their sufferings, present or in 
 prospect. 
 
 Others were occupied, whether they would or no, 
 with diversions fiercer and more earnest. There were 
 continual altercations between farmers, small proprie- 
 tors of land, government and city officials, -alterca- 
 tions so manifold and violent, that even were there 
 no hubbub of voices, and no incoherence of wrath and 
 rage to complicate it, w^e should despair of setting it 
 before the reader. An oflBcer from the camp was 
 expostulating with one of the municipal authorities 
 that no corn had been sent thither for the last six or 
 seven days, and the functionary attacked had thrown 
 the blame on the farmer, and he in turn had protested 
 that he could not get cattle to bring the waggons into 
 Sicca ; those which he had set out with had died of 
 exhaustion on the journey. A clerk, as we now 
 speak, in the Officium of the society of publicans or 
 collectors of annona, was threatening a number of 
 small tenants with ejection for not sending in their 
 rated portion of corn for tlie Koman people: — the 
 Officium of the Notariiis, or assistant prefect, had 
 written up to Sicca from Carthage in violent terms ; 
 and come it must, though the locusts had eaten up 
 every stack and granary. A number of half-starved 
 peasants had been summoned for payment of their 
 taxes, and in spite of their ignorance of Latin, they had 
 been made to understand that death was the stern 
 penalty of neglecting to bring the coin. They, ou 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CEXTURT. 143 
 
 the other hand, by their fierce do2:2:edness of manner. 
 
 seemed to signity by way of answer that death was 
 not a penalty, unless life was a boon. 
 
 The villicus of one of the decurions, who had an 
 estate in the neighbourhood, was laying his miseries 
 before the man of business of his employer, " What 
 are we to do?" he said. "Half the gang of slaves is 
 dead, and the other half is so feeble, that I can't get 
 through the work of the month. We ought to be 
 sheep-shearing ; you have no chance of wool. We 
 ought to be swarming the bees, pressing the honey, 
 boiling and puritying the wax. W^e ought to be 
 pkicking the white leaves of the camomile, and steep- 
 ing the golden flowers in oil. W^e ought to be gather- 
 ing the wild grapes, sifting oiF the flowers, and preserv- 
 ing the residue in honey. W"e ought to be sowing 
 brassicum, parsley, and coriander against next spring. 
 We ought to be cheese-making. We ought to be baking 
 white and red bricks and tiles in the sun ; we have no 
 hands for the purpose. The villicus is not to blame, 
 but the anger of the gods." The country emploi/e of 
 the procurator of the imperial Bapliia protests that 
 the insect cannot be found from which the dye is 
 extracted; and argues that the locusts must have de- 
 voured them, or the plant on which they feed, or that 
 they have been carried oft" by the pestilence. Here is 
 old Corbulus in agonies for his febrifuge, and a slave 
 of his is in high words with the market-carrier, who 
 tells him that Mago is dead of a worse fever than his 
 master's, from whom the root was to have come. 
 "The rogue!" cried the slave, "ray master has con- 
 tracted with him for the year, and has paid him the 
 money in advance." A jeering and mocking from the 
 crowd assailed the unfortunate domestic, who too 
 truly foreboded that his return without the medicine 
 would be the si^'-^al for his summary committal to the 
 'pistrinum. " L1.1; old Corbulus follow old Mago in his 
 passage to p'erdition," said one of the rabble; "let 
 him take his physic with Pluto, and leave us the bread 
 
144 CALLISTA ; 
 
 and wine on wliicTi lie's grown gouty." "Bread, 
 bread !" was the response elicited by this denunciation, 
 and it spread into a circle broader than that of which 
 the slave and the carrier were part. 
 
 "Wine and bread, Ceres and Liber!" cried a young 
 legionary, who, after a night of revelry, was emerging 
 still half intoxicated from one of the low wine-shops 
 in the vaults which formed the basement of the 
 Thermcd or hot baths ; " make way there, you filthy 
 slime of the earth, you half-kneaded, half-fermented 
 Africans, who never yet have quite been men, but 
 have ever smelt strong of the baboon, who are three 
 quarters must^ and two vinegar, and a fifth water, — 
 as I was saying, you are like bad liquor, and the sight 
 of you disag-rees with the stomach and affects the eyes." 
 
 The crowd looked sullenly, and without wincing, 
 at his shield, which was the only portion of his mili- 
 tary accoutrements which he had preserved after his 
 carouse. The white surface, with a silver boss in the 
 centre, surrounded by first a white and then a red 
 circle, and the purple border, showed that he belonged 
 to the Tertiani or third Italic Legion, which had been 
 stationed in Africa since the time of Augustus. " Vile 
 double-tongued mongrels," he continued, "what are 
 you fit for but to gather the fruits of the earth for 
 your owners and lords, ' ^Romanes dominos rerum^?' 
 And if there are now no fruits to reap, why your 
 service is gone. Go home and die, and drown your- 
 selves, for what are you fit for, except to take your dead 
 corpses away from the nostrils of a Eoman, the cream 
 of humankind? Te base-born apes, that's why you 
 catch the pestilence, because our blood mantles and 
 foams in our ruddy veins like new milk in the wine- 
 cup, which is too strong for this clime, and ray blood 
 is up, and I drink a full measure of it to great 
 Eome; for what does old Horace say, but 'Nunc est 
 bibendum ^ ?' and so get out of my way." 
 
 1 " The Romans, the loi-ds of the world." 
 
 2 '< Now's the time for a bnut." 
 
A SKETCH OE THE THIED CENTUET. 145 
 
 To a good part of the multitude, both peasantry 
 and town rabble, Latin was unintelligible ; but they 
 all understood vocabulary and syntax and logic, as 
 soon as he drew his knuckles across one fellow's face 
 who refused to move from his path, and as soon as 
 his insult was returned by the latter with a thrust of 
 the dagger. A rush was made upon him, on which he 
 made a face at them, shook his fist, and leaping on 
 one side, ran with great swiftness to an open space in 
 advance. From his quarrelsome humour rather than 
 from fear, he raised a cry of alarm ; on which two or 
 three fellow-soldiers made their appearance from simi- 
 lar dens of intoxication and vice, and came up to the 
 rescue. The mob assailed them with stones, and the 
 cream of human nature was likely to be roughly 
 churned, when, seeing matters were becoming serious, 
 they suddenly took to their heels, and got into the 
 Temple of Esculapius on one side of the Forum. The 
 mob followed, the ministers of the sacred place at- 
 tempted to shut the gates, a scuffle ensued, and a riot 
 was in progress. Self-preservation is the first law of 
 man ; trembling for the safety of his noble buildings, 
 and considering that it was a bread riot, as it really 
 was, the priest of the god came forward, rebuked the 
 mob for its impiety, and showed the absurdity of sup- 
 posing that there were loaves in his enclosure to satisfy 
 their wants ; but he added that there was a baker's 
 shop at the other end of the Forum, which was one of 
 the most considerable in Sicca. 
 
 A slight impulse determines the movements of an 
 excited multitude. Off they went to the quarter in 
 question, where certainly there was a very large and 
 handsome store of a substantial dealer in grain of all 
 sorts, and in other produce. The shop, however, 
 seemed on this occasion to be but poorly furnished ; 
 for the baker was a prudent man, and feared a display 
 of provisions which would be an invitation to hungry 
 men. The assailants, however, were not to be baffled ; 
 Bome one cried out that the man had withdrawn hia 
 
146 CAL^Ii.TA ; 
 
 corn from the market for his own ends, and that great 
 stores AYere accumulated within. They avail them- 
 selves of the hint ; they pour in through the open 
 front, th'e baker escapes as he may, his mills and ovens 
 are smashed, the house is ransacked ; whatever is found 
 is seized, thrown about, wasted, eaten, as the case may 
 be ; and the mob gaius strength and appetite for fresh 
 Bxploits. 
 
 However-, the rioters have no definite plan of action 
 yet. Some of them have penetrated into the stable 
 behind the house in search of corn. They find the 
 mill-ass which ground for the baker,' and bring it out. 
 It is a beast of more than ordinary pretensions, such 
 as you would not often see in a mill, showing both 
 the wealth of the owner and the flourishing condition 
 of his trade. The asses of Africa are finer than those 
 in the north ; but this is fine for an African. One 
 fellow mounts upon it, and sets oft' with the world 
 before him, like a knight-errant, seeking an adventure, 
 the rabble at his tail being his squire. He begins the 
 circuit of the Forum, and picks up its rift-raft' as he 
 goes along ; — here some rascal boys, there some 
 drunken women, here again a number of half-brutal- 
 ized country slaves and peasants. Partly out of curi- 
 osity, partly from idleness, from ill temper, from 
 hope of spoil, from a vague desire to be doing some- 
 thing or other, every one who has nothiug to lose by 
 the adventure crowds around and behind him. And on 
 the contrary, as he advances, and the noise and com- 
 motion increases, every one who has a position of any 
 sort, the confidential verncd of great families, the far- 
 mers, shopkeepers, men of business, officials, vanish 
 from the scene of action without delay. "Africa, 
 Africa!" is now the cry; the signal in that country, 
 as an ancient writer tells us, that the parties raising 
 it have something new in hand, and have a mind to 
 do it. 
 
 Suddenly, as they march on, a low and awful growl 
 /a heard. It comes from the booth of a servant of the 
 
A SKETCH OP I'HE THIRD CENTURY. 147 
 
 irnperial court. He is employed as a transporter of 
 wild beasts from the interior to the coast, where thej 
 are shipped for Home ; and he has charge at present of 
 a noble lion, who is sitting majestically, looking through 
 the bars of his cage at the rabble, who now begin to look 
 at him. In demeanour and in mental endowments he 
 has the advantage of them. It was at this moment, while 
 they were closing, hustling each other, staring at the 
 beast, and hoping to provoke him, that a shrill voice 
 cried out, " Christianos ad leones, Christianos ad leo- 
 nes!" the Christians to the lions! A sudden and 
 dead silence ensued, as if the words had struck the 
 breatli out of the promiscuous throng. An interval 
 passed ; and then the same voice was heard again, 
 " Christianos ad leones !" This time the whole Forum 
 took it up from one end to the other. The fate of the 
 day, the direction of the movement, was decided ; a 
 distinct object was obtained, and the only wonder was 
 that the multitude had been so long to seek and so 
 slow to find so obvious a cause of their misfortunes, so 
 adequate a subject for their vengeance. " Christianos 
 ad leones!" was shouted out by town and country, 
 priests and people. "Long live the emperor! long 
 live Decius! he told us this long ago. There's the 
 edict ; it never has been obeyed. Death to the ma- 
 gistrates ! To the. Christians ! to the Christians ! Up 
 with great Jove, down with the atheists!" 
 
 They were commencing their march when the ass 
 caught their eye. " The Christians' god ! " they shouted 
 out; "the god of the Christians!" Their first im- 
 pulse was to give the poor beast to the lion, their next 
 to sacrifice it, but they did not know to whom. Then 
 they said they would make the Christians worship it ; 
 and dressing it up in tawdry finery, they retained it at 
 the head of their procession. 
 
 l2 
 
148 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 "By the time that tliey had got round again to the 
 unlucky baker's, the mob had been swelled to a size 
 which even the area of the Forum would not contain, 
 and it filled the adjacent streets. And by the same 
 time it had broken upon its leaders, and, indeed, 
 upon every one who used his reason at all, that it was 
 very far from certain that there were any Christians in 
 Sicca, and if so, still very far from easy to say where 
 they were. And the difficulty was of so practical a 
 character as to keep them inactive for the space of 
 several hours. Meanwhile their passions were excited 
 to the boiling point by the very presence of the diffi- 
 culty, as men go mad of thirst when water is denied 
 them. At length, after a long season of such violent 
 commotion, such restless pain, such curses, shrieks, 
 and blasphemies, such bootless gesticulations, such 
 aimless contests with each other, that they seemed to 
 be already inmates of the prison beneath, they set oftMn a 
 blind way to make the circuit of the city as before they 
 had paraded round the Forum, still in the knight-errant 
 line, looking out for what might turn up where they 
 were sure of nothing, and relieving the intense irrita- 
 tion of their passions by locomotion, if nothing more 
 substantial was offered to them. 
 
 It was an awful day for the respectable inhabit- 
 ants of the place ; worse than anything even the most 
 timid of them had anticipated, when they showed 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTUET. 149 
 
 jealousy of a popular movement against the proscribed 
 religion ; for the stimulus of famine and pestilence 
 was added to hatred of Christianity, in that unrea- 
 soning multitude. The magistrates shut themselves 
 up in dismay ; the small body of Eoman soldiery re- 
 served their strength for the defence of themselves ; 
 and the poor wretches, not a few, who had fallen from 
 the faith, and oflered sacrifice, hung out from their 
 doors sinful heatlien symbols to avert a storm against 
 which apostasy was no sufficient safeguard. In this 
 conduct the Gnostics and other sectaries imitated them, 
 while tlie Tertullianists took a more manly part, from 
 principle or pride. 
 
 It would require the brazen voice which Homer 
 speaks of, or the magic pen of Sir Walter, to catalogue 
 and to picture, as far as it is lawful to do either, the 
 figures and groups of that most miserable procession. 
 As it went forward it gained variety and strength, 
 which the circuit of the Forum could not furnish. The 
 more respectable religious establishments shut their 
 gates, and would have nothing to do with it. The priests 
 of Jupiter, the educational establishments of the Tem- 
 ple of Mercury, the Temple of the Grenius of Eome 
 near the Capitol, the hierophants of Isis, the Minerva, 
 the Juno, the Esculapius, viewed the popular rising 
 with terror and disgust ; but these were not the 
 popular worships. The vast homestead of Astarte, 
 which in the number and avowed profligacy of its 
 inhabitants rivalled the vaults upon the Eorum ; the 
 old rites, many and diversified, if separately obscure, 
 which came from Punic times ; the new importa- 
 tions from Syria and Phrygia, and a number of other 
 haunts and schools of depravity and crime, did their 
 part in swelling or giving character to the concourse. 
 The hungry and idle rabble, the filthy beggars who 
 fed on the olfal of the sacrifices, the drivers and 
 slaughterers of the beasts sacrificed ; the tumblers and 
 mountebanks who amused the gaping market-people ; 
 dancers, singers, pipers from low taverns and drinking- 
 
150 CALLISTA ; 
 
 houses ; infamous creatures, young and old, men and 
 boys, half naked and not half sober; brutal blacks, 
 the aboriginal race of the Atlas, with their appetites 
 written on their skulls and features ; Canaanites, as 
 they called themselves, from the coast ; the wild beast- 
 keepers from the amphitheatre ; troops of labourers 
 from the fields, to whom the epidemic was a time of 
 Saturnalia ; and the degraded company, alas ! how 
 numerous and how pitiable, who took their nightly 
 stand in long succession at the doors of their several 
 cells in the deep galleries under the Thermse ; all 
 these, and many others, had their part and place in the 
 procession. There you might see the devilish emblems 
 of idolatry borne aloft by wretches from the great 
 Punic Temple, while frantic forms, ragged and famished, 
 wasted and shameless, leapt and pranced around them. 
 There too was a choir of Bacchanals, ready at a mo- 
 ment with songs as noisy as they were unutterable. 
 And there was the priest of the Punic Saturn, the 
 child-clevourer, a sort of Moloch, to whom the martyr- 
 dom of Christians was a sacred rite; he and all "his 
 attendants in fiery-coloured garments, as became a san- 
 guinary religion. And there, moreover, was a band of 
 fanatics, devotees of Cybele or of the Syrian goddess, 
 if indeed the two rites were distinct. They were be- 
 dizened with ribbons and rags of various colours, and 
 smeared over with pain-t. They had long hair like 
 women, and turbans on their heads. They pushed 
 their way to the head of the procession, being quite 
 worthy of the post of honour, and, seizing the baker's 
 ass, put their goddess on the back of it. Some of 
 them were playing the fife, others clashing cymbals, 
 others danced, others yelled, others rolled their heads, 
 and others flogged themselves. Such was the cha- 
 racter of the frenzied host, which progressed slowly 
 through the streets, while every now and then, when 
 there was an interval in the hubbub, the words " Chris- 
 tianos ad leones " were thundered out by some ruflSan. 
 voice, and a thousand others fiercely responded. 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CEXTURT. 151 
 
 Still no Christian was forthcoming; and it was 
 plain that the rage of the multitude must be dis- 
 charged in other quarters, if the difficulty continued 
 in satisfying it. At length some one recollected the 
 site of the Christian chapel, when it existed ; thither 
 went the multitude, and effected an entrance without 
 delay. It had long been turned to other purposes, 
 and was now a store of casks and leathern bottles. 
 The miserable sacristan had long given up any practi- 
 cal observance of his f\iith, and remained on the spot 
 a keeper of the premises for the trader who owned 
 them. They found him, and dragged him into the 
 street, and brought him forward to the ass, and to the 
 idol on its back, and bade him worship the one and 
 the other. The poor wretch obeyed ; he worshipped 
 the ass, he worshipped the idol, and he w^orshipped 
 the genius of the emperor ; but his persecutors wanted 
 blood ; they would not submit to be cheated of their 
 draught ; so when they had made him do whatever 
 they exacted, they flung him under the feet of the 
 multitude, who, as they passed on, soon trod all life 
 and breath out of him, and sent him to the powers 
 below, to whom he had just before been making his 
 profession. 
 
 Their next adventure was with a Tertullianist, who 
 stationed himself at his shop-door, displayed the sign 
 of the cross, and walking leisurely forward, seized the 
 idol on the ass's back, broke it over his knee, and flung 
 the portions into the crowd. For a few minutes they 
 stared on him with astonishment, then some women 
 fell upon him with their nails and teeth, and tore the 
 poor fanatic till he fell bleeding and lifeless upon the 
 ground. 
 
 In the higher and better part of the city, which 
 they now approached, lived the widow of a Duumvir, 
 who in his day had made a bold profession of Chris- 
 tianity. This well-connected lady was a Christian 
 also, and was sheltered by her great friends from tho 
 
152 CALLISTA ; 
 
 persecution. She was bringing up a family in great 
 privacy, and witli straitened means, and with as much 
 religious strictness as was possible under the circum- 
 stances of the place. She kept them from all bad 
 sights and bad company, was careful as to the cha- 
 racter of the slaves she placed about them, and taught 
 them all she knew of her religion, which was quite 
 sufficient for their salvation. They had all been bap- 
 tized, some by herself in default of the proper minister, 
 and, as far as tliey could show at their tender ages, 
 which lay between thirteen and seven, the three girls and 
 the two boys were advancing in the love of truth and 
 sanctity. Her husband, some years back, when pre- 
 siding in the Forum, had punished with just severity 
 an act of ungrateful fraud ; and the perpetrator had 
 always cherished a malignant hatred of him and his. 
 The moment of gratifying it had now arrived, and he 
 pointed out to the infuriated rabble the secluded man- 
 sion where the Christian household dwelt. ^^ He could 
 not offer to them a more acceptable service, and the 
 lady's modest apartment was soon swarming with ene- 
 mies of her God and His followers. In spite of her 
 heartrending cries and supplications, her children were 
 seized, and when the youngest boy clung to her, the 
 mother Avas thrown senseless upon the pavement. 
 The whole five were carried ofl' in triumph ; it was the 
 greatest success of the day. There was some hesita- 
 tion how to dispose of them ; at last the girls were 
 handed over to the priestesses of Astarte, and the 
 boys to the loathsome votaries of Cybele. 
 
 Kevenge upon Christians was the motive principle 
 of the riot ; but the prospect of plunder stimulated 
 numbers, and here Christians could not minister to 
 their desires. They began the day by the attack upon 
 the provision-shop, and now they had reached the 
 aristocratic quarter of the city, and they gazed with 
 envy and cupidity at the noble mansions which occu- 
 pied it. They began to shout out, " Bread, bread ! '* 
 
A SKETCH 0¥ THE THIED CENTtJRT. 153 
 
 while they uttered threats against the Christians'; 
 they violently beat at the closed gates, and looked 
 about for means of scaling the high walls which de- 
 fended them in front. The cravings of famished men 
 soon take form and organization ; they began to ask 
 relief from house to house. Nothing came amiss ; 
 and loaves, figs, grapes, wine found their way into the 
 hands and mouths of those who were the least exhausted 
 and the least enfeebled. A second line of fierce sup- 
 plicants succeeded to the first ; and it was plain that, 
 unless some diversion were effected, the respectable 
 quarter of Sicca had found a worse enemy than the 
 locust. 
 
 The houses of the government susceptor or tax-col- 
 lector, of the tabularius or registrar, of the defensor 
 or city counsel, and one or two others had already been 
 the scene of collisions between the domestic slaves 
 and the multitude, when a demand was made upon 
 the household of another of the Curia, who held the 
 oflSce of Mamen Dialis. He was a wealthy, easy- 
 going man, generally popular, with no appetite for 
 persecution at all, but still no desire to be persecuted. 
 He had more than tolerated the Christians, and had 
 at this time a Christian among his slaves. This was a 
 Grreek, a splendid cook and perfumer, and he would 
 nob have lost him for a large sum of money. However 
 life and limb were nearer to him even than his dinner, 
 and a Jonas must be cast overboard to save the ship. 
 In trepidation, yet with greater satisfaction, his fellow- 
 domestics thrust the poor helpless man out of the 
 house, and secured the door behind him. He was a 
 man of middle age, of a grave aspect, and he looked 
 silently and calmly upon the infuriated and yelling 
 multitude, who were swarming up the hill about him 
 and swelling the number of his persecutors. "What 
 had been his prospects had he remained in his earthly 
 master's service ? his fill of meat and drink while he 
 was strong and skilful, the stocks or scourge if he 
 
I54i CALLISTA ; 
 
 ever failed to plense him, and the old age and death of 
 the worn-out hack who once has caracoled in the pro- 
 cession, or snorted at the coming light. AVhat are his 
 prospects now ? j moment's agony, a martyr's death, 
 and the everlasting beatific vision of Him for whom 
 he died. The multitude cry out, " To the ass or to the 
 lion ! " worship the ass, or fight the lion. He was 
 dragged to the ass's head, and commanded to kneel 
 down before the irrational beast. In the course of a 
 minute he had lifted up his eyes to heaven, had signed 
 himself with the cross, had confessed his Saviour, and 
 had been torn to pieces by the multitude. They 
 anticipated the lion of the amphitheatre. 
 
 A lull foUow^ed, sure to be succeeded by a fresh 
 storm. Not every household had a Christian cook 
 to make a victim of. Seditions, plunder, and riot were 
 becoming the order of the day ; successive messengers 
 were sent up in breathless haste to the capitol and the 
 camp for aid, but the E-omans returned for answer that 
 they had enough to do in defending the government 
 buildings and offices. They suggested measures, how- 
 ever, for putting the mob on a false scent, or involving 
 them in some difficult or tedious enterprise, which 
 would give the authorities time for deliberation, and. 
 for taking the rioters at disadvantage. If the magis- 
 trates could get them out of the city, it would be a 
 great point ; they could then shut the gates upon 
 them, and deal with them as they would. In that case 
 too the insurgents would straggle, and divide, and 
 then they might be disposed of in detail. They were 
 showing symptoms of returning fury, when a voice 
 suddenly cried out, " Agellius the Christian ! Agelbus 
 the sorcerer ! Agellius to the lions ! To the farm of 
 Varius — to the cottage of Agellius — to the south-west 
 gate ! " A sudden yell burst forth from the vast mul- 
 titude when the voice ceased. The impulse had been 
 given as at the first ; the tide of human beings ebbed 
 and retreated, and, licking the base of the hill, rushed 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIllD CEKTURY. 
 
 155 
 
 velnemently on one side, and roared like a torrent 
 towards the south-west. Juba, thy prophecy is soon 
 to be fulfilled ! The locusts will bring more harm on 
 thy brother's home than imperial edict or local ma- 
 gistrate. The decline of day will hardly prevent the 
 visitation ! 
 
156 CALLISTA; 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 A CHAKGE had passed over the fair face of nature, as 
 seen from the cottage of Agellius, since that evening on 
 which our story opened ; and it is so painful to con- 
 template waste, decay, and disappointment, that we 
 mean to say little about it. There was the same 
 cloudless sky as then; and the sun travelled in its 
 silent and certain course, with even a more intense 
 desire than then to ripen grain and fruit for the use 
 of man ; but its occupation was gone, for fruit and 
 grain were not, nor man to collect and to enjoy 
 them. A dark broad shadow passed across the beauti- 
 ful prospect, and disfigured it. When you looked more 
 closely, it was as if a fire had burned up the whole 
 surface included under that shadow, and had stripped 
 the earth of its clothing. Nothing had escaped ; not 
 a head of khennah, not a rose or carnation, not an 
 orange or an orange blossom, not a hoccone, not a 
 cluster of unripe grapes, not a berry of the olive, not 
 a blade of grass. Gardens, meadows, vineyards, or- 
 chards, copses, instead of rejoicing in the rich variety of 
 hue which lately was their characteristic, were now 
 reduced to one dreary cinder-colour. The smoke of 
 fires was actually rising from many points, where the 
 spoilt and poisonous vegetation was burning in heaps, 
 ov the countless corpses of the invading foe, or of the 
 cattle, or of the human beings whom the pestilence had 
 carried off. The most furious inroad of savage hordes, 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 157 
 
 of Yandals or of Saracens, who were destined at suc- 
 cessive times to come and waste that cctuntry, could not 
 have spread sucli thorough desolation. The slaves of 
 the farm of Varius were sorrowfully turning to a new 
 employment, that of clearing away the wreck and dis- 
 appointment of the bright spring from flower-bed, vine- 
 yard, and field. 
 
 It was on the morning of the eventful day whose 
 course we have been tracing in the preceding chapters, 
 that a sharp-looking boy presented himself to Agellius, 
 who was directing his labourers in their work. " I 
 am come from Jucundus," he said; "he has instant 
 need of you. You are to go Avith me, and by my way ; 
 and this is the proof I tell you truth. He sends you 
 this note, and wishes you in a bad time the best gifts 
 of Bacchus and Ceres." 
 
 Agellius took the tablets, and went with them across 
 the road to the place where CcTecilius was at work, in 
 appearance a slave. The letter ran thus : — " Jucun- 
 dus to Agellius : I trust you are well enough to move ; 
 you are not safe for many days in your cottage ; there 
 is a rising this morning against the Christians, and 
 you may be visited. TJnlesa you are ambitious of 
 Styx and Tartarus, follow the boy without question- 
 ing." Agellius showed the letter to the priest. 
 
 "We are no longer safe here, my father," he said; 
 "whither shall we go? Let us go together. Can 
 you take me to Carthage ?" 
 
 " Carthage is quite as dangerous," answered Coeci- 
 lius, " and Sicca is more central. We can but leap 
 into the sea at Carthage ; here there are many lines to 
 retreat upon. I am known there, I am not known here. 
 Here, too, I hear all that goc3 on through the procon- 
 sulate anil Numidia." 
 
 " But what can we do ?" asked Agellius ; "here we 
 cannot remain, and you at least cannot venture into 
 the city. Somewhither we must go, and where is 
 that?" 
 
158 CALLISTA ; 
 
 The priest thought. " "We must separate," he said. 
 The tears came into Agellius's eyes. 
 
 "Though I am a stranger," continued Cajcilius, "I 
 know more of the neighbourliood of Sicca than you 
 who are a native. There is a famous Christian retreat 
 on the north of the citj, and by this time I doubt iiot, 
 or rather I know, it is full of refugees. The fury of 
 the enemy is extending on all hands, and our brethren, 
 from as far as Cirfcha round to Curubis, are falling back 
 upon it. The only difficulty is how to get round to it 
 without going througVi Sicca." 
 
 "Let us go together," said Agellius. 
 
 Csecilius showed signs of perplexity, and his mind 
 retired into itself. He seemed for the moment to be 
 simply absent from the scene about him, but soon 
 his intelligence returned. " IN'o," he said; "we must 
 separate, — for the time ; it will not be for long. That 
 is, I suppose, your uncle will take good care of you, 
 and he has influence. We are safest just 'now when 
 most independent of each other. It is only for a while. 
 We shall meet again soon ; I tell you so. Did we keep 
 together just now, it would be the worse for each of 
 us. You go with the boy : I will go off to the place I 
 mentioned." 
 
 " O my father," said the youth, "how will you get 
 there? What shall I suffer from my fears about 
 you?" , _ 
 
 "Fear not," answered CseciliUs, "mind, I tell you 
 so. It will be a trying time, but my hour is not yet 
 come. I am good lor years yet ; so are you, for many 
 more than mine. He will protect and rescue me, 
 though I know not how. Go, leave me to myself, 
 Agellius." 
 
 " my father, my only stay upon earth, \*hom Grod 
 sent me in my extreme need, to whom I owe myself, 
 must I then quit you ? must a layman desert a priest ? 
 the young the old ? Ah I it is I really, not you, who 
 am without protection. Angels surround you, father ; 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 159 
 
 but I am a poor wanderer. Grive me your blessing, 
 that evil may not touch me. I go." 
 
 " Do not kneel," said the priest ; " they will see you. 
 Stop, I have got to tell you how and where to find 
 me." He then proceeded to give him the neces- 
 sary instructions. "AYalk out," he said, "along the 
 road to Thibursicumbur to the third milestone ; then 
 walk a thousand steps ; then say seven patet' nosfers, 
 and speak to the man upon your right hand. And 
 now away with you, God speed you, we shall not long 
 be parted," and he made the sign of the cross over 
 him. 
 
 "That old chap gives himself airs," said the boy, 
 when Agellius joined him ; " what may he be ? one of 
 your slaves, i^gellias?" 
 
 "You're a pert boy," answered he, "for asking me 
 the question." 
 
 " They say the ChristijTns brought the locusts," said 
 Firmius, " by their enchantments ; and there's a jolly 
 row beginning in the Forum just now. The report goes 
 that you are a Christian." 
 
 " That's because your people have nothing better to 
 do than to talk agamst their neighbours." 
 
 "Because you are so soft, rather," said the boy. 
 " Another man would have knocked me down for saying 
 it ; but you are lackadaisical folk, who bear insults 
 tamely. Arnobius says your fother was a Christian." 
 
 " Father and son are not always the same religion 
 uow-a-days," said AgeUius. 
 
 "Ay, ay," answered Firmius, "but the Christians 
 came from Egypt ; and as cook there is the son of cook, 
 and soldier is son of soldier, so Christian, take my 
 Mord for it, is the son of a Christian." 
 
 " Christians boast, I believe," answered Agellius, 
 "that they are of no one race or country, but are 
 members of a large unpatriotic fimiily, whose home is 
 in the sky." 
 
 "Christians," answered the boy, "would never have 
 
160 CALLISTA; 
 
 framed the great Boman empire ; that was the work 
 of heroes. Great Ca?sar, Marius, Marcus Brutus, 
 Camillus, Cicero, Sylla, Lucullus, Scipio, could never 
 have been Christians. Arnohius says they are a 
 skulking set of fellows." 
 
 " I suppose you wish to be a hero," said Agellius. 
 
 " I am to be a pleader," answered Firmius ; " I 
 should like to be a great orator like Cicero, and every 
 one listening to me." 
 
 They were walking along the top of a mud wall, 
 which separated Varius's farm from his neighbour's, 
 when suddenly Firmius, who led the way, leapt down 
 into a copse, which reached as far as the ravine in 
 which the knoll terminated towards Sicca. The boy 
 still went forward by devious paths, till they had 
 mounted as high as the city wall. 
 
 " You are bringing me where there is no entrance," 
 said Agellius. 
 
 The boy laughed. " Jucundus told me to bring 
 you by a blind way," he said. "You know best why. 
 This is one of our ways in and out." 
 
 There was an aperture in the wall, and the bricks 
 and stones about it were loose, and admitted of re- 
 moval. It was such a private way of passage as school- 
 boys know of. On getting through, Agellius found 
 himself in a neglected garden or small close. Every 
 thing was silent about them, as if the inhabitants 
 were away ; there was a great noise in the distance, as 
 if something unusual were going on in the heart of 
 the town. The boy told him to follow him as fast as 
 he could without exciting remark ; and, leading him 
 by lanes and alleys unknown to Agellius, at last 
 brought him close upon the scene of riot. At this 
 time the attack upon the baker's shop was just over; 
 to cross the Forum was to shorten his journey, and 
 perhaps was safer than to risk meeting the mob in the 
 streets. Firmius took the step ; and while their atten- 
 tion was directed elsewhere, brought Agellius safely 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 161 
 
 through it. The}^ then proceeded cautiously as before, 
 till tliey stood before the back door of the house of 
 Jucundus. 
 
 '^ 8ay a good word for me to your uncle," said the 
 boy ; " I have done my job. He must remember me 
 handsomely at the Augustalia," and he ran away. 
 
 Meanwhile Csecilius had been anxiously considering 
 the course which it was safest for him to pursue. He 
 must move, but he must wait till dusk, when the ways 
 were clear, and the light uncertain. Till then he 
 must keep close in doors. There was a remarkable 
 cavern in the mountains above Sicca, which had been 
 used as a place of refuge for Christians from the very 
 time they had first suffered persecution in Roman 
 Africa. No spot in its whole territory seemed more fit 
 for what is called a base of operations, from which the 
 soldiers of the Cross might advance, or to which- they 
 might retire, according as the fury of their enemy 
 grew or diminished. While it was in the midst of a 
 wilderness dif&cult of access, and feared as the resort 
 of ghosts and evil influences, it was not far from a city 
 near to which the high roads met from Hippo and 
 from Carthage. A branch of the Bagradas, navigable 
 for boats, opened a way from it through the woods, 
 where flight and concealment were easy on a surprise, 
 as far as Madaura, Vacca, and other places ; at the 
 same time it commanded the vast plain on the south 
 which extended to the roots of the Atlas. Just now, 
 the persecution growing, many deacons, other eccle- 
 siastics, and prominent laymen from all parts of the 
 country had fallen back upon this cavern or grotto ; 
 and in no place could Caecilius have better means than 
 here of learning the general state of afi*airs, and of 
 communicating with countries beyond the seas. He 
 was indeed on his way thither, when the illness of 
 Agellius miide it a duty for him to stop and restore 
 him, and attend to his spiritual needs ; and he had 
 
162 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 received an inward intimation, on which he implicitly 
 relied, to do so. 
 
 The problem at this moment was, how to reacli the 
 refuge in question. His direct road lay through Sicca; 
 this being impracticable at present, he had to descend 
 into the ravine which lay between him and the city, 
 and, turning to the left, to traverse the broad plain, 
 the Campns Martius of Sicca, into which it opened. 
 Here the mountain would rise abruptly on his right 
 with those steep cliffs which we have already described 
 as rounding the north side of Sicca. He must tra- 
 verse many miles before he could reach the point at 
 which the rock lost its precipitous character, and 
 changed into a declivity allowing the traveller to 
 ascend. It was a bold undertaking ; for all this he 
 had to accomplish in the dark before the morning 
 broke, a stranger too to the locality, and directing 
 his movements only by the iniormation of others, 
 which, however accurate and distinct, could scarcely be 
 followed, even if without risk of error, at least without 
 misgivings. However, could he master this point 
 before the morning he was comparatively safe ; he 
 then had to strike into the solitary mountains, and to 
 retrace his steps for a while towards Sicca along the 
 road, till he came to a place where he knew that 
 Christian scouts or videttes (as they may be called) 
 were always stationed. 
 
 This being his plan, and there being no way of 
 mendiug it, our confessor retired into the cottage, and 
 devoted the intervening hours to intercourse with that 
 world from which his succour must come. He set 
 himself to intercede for the Holy Catholic Church 
 throughout the world, now for the most part under 
 persecution, and for the Eoman empire, not yet holy, 
 which was the instrument of the evil powers against 
 her. He had to pray for the proconsulate, for Numi- 
 dia, Mauretania, and the whole of Africa ; for the 
 Christian communities throughout it, for the cessation 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEIs^TURT. 163 
 
 of the trial then present, and for the fortitude and 
 perseverance of all who were tried. He had to pray 
 for l]is ow^n personal friends, his peuitents, converts, 
 enemies ; for children, catechumens, neophytes ; for 
 those who were approaching the Church, for those who 
 had fallen awa}", or were falling away from her ; for all 
 heretics, for all troublers of unity, that they might be 
 reclaimed. He had to confess, bewail, and deprecate 
 the many sins and offences which he knew of, fore- 
 boded, or saw in prospect as to come. Scarcely had he 
 entered on his charge at Carthage four years before, 
 when he had had to denounce one portentous scandal 
 in which a sacred order of the ministry w^as implicated. 
 AVhat internal laxity did that scandal not imply ! 
 And tnen again what a low standard of religion, what 
 niggardly faith, and what worn-out, used-up sanctity 
 in the community at large, was revealed in the fact of 
 those frequent apostasies of iudividuals which then 
 were occurring ! He prayed fervently that both from 
 the bright pattern of martyrs and from the warning 
 afforded by the lapsed, the Christian body might be 
 edified and invigorated. He saw with great anxiet}'- 
 two schisms in prospect, when the persecution should 
 come to an end, one from the perverseness of those 
 who were too rigid, the other from those who were 
 too indulgent towards the fallen ; and in propoi'tion 
 to his gift of prescience was the earnestness of his 
 intercession that the wounds of the Church might be 
 healed with the least possible delay. He then turned 
 to the thought of his own correspondence then in pro- 
 gress with the Holy Eoman Church, which had lately 
 lost its bishop by martyrdom. This was no unusual 
 event with the see of Peter, in which the successors 
 of Peter followed Peter's steps, as Peter had been 
 bidden to follow the King and Exemplar of JNfartyrs. 
 But what was so afflicting was, that months had 
 passed, full five, since the vacancj^ occurred, and it 
 Lad not yet been supplied. Then he thought of Pa- 
 M 2 
 
164 CALLISTA 
 
 Ijius, who made the vacancy, and who had already 
 passed through tliat trial wliich was to bring to so 
 many Christians life or condemnation, and he com- 
 mended himself to his prayers against the hour of his 
 own combat. He thought of Fabius's work, and went 
 on to intercede for the remnant of the seven apostles 
 whom that Pope had sent into Gaul, and some of whom 
 had already obtained the martyr's crown. He prayed 
 that the day might come, when not the cities only of that 
 fair country, but its rich champaigns and sunny slopes 
 should hear the voice of the missionary. He prayed 
 in like manner for Britain, that the successful work of 
 another Pope, St. Eleutherius, might be extended even 
 to its four seas. And then he prayed for the neighbour- 
 ing island on the west, still in heathen darkness, and 
 for the endless expanse of Germany on the east, that 
 there too the one saving Name and glorious Faith 
 might be known and accepted. 
 
 His thoughts then travelled back to Eome and Italy, 
 and to the martyrdoms which had followed that of 
 St. Fabius. Two Persians had already suffered in the 
 imperial city; IMaximus had lost his life, and Felix 
 had been iuiprisoned, at Nola. Asia Minor, Syria, 
 and Egypt had already afforded victims to the perse- 
 cution, and cried aloud to all Christians for their most 
 earnest prayers and repeated masses in behalf of those 
 who remained under the trial. Babylas, bishop of 
 Antioch, the second see in Christendom, was already 
 martyred in that city. Here again Csecilius had a 
 strong call on him for intercession, for a subtle form of 
 freethinking was there manifesting itself, the issue of 
 which was as uncertain as it might be frightful. The 
 bishop of Alexandi'ia, that third of the large divisions 
 or patriarchates of the Church, the great Dionysius, 
 the pupil of Origen, was an exile from his see, like 
 himself. The messenger who brought this news to 
 Carthage had heard at Alexandria a report from Neo- 
 C3Esarea, that Gregory, another pupil of Origen' s, the 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 165 
 
 apostle of Pontus, had also been obliged to conceal 
 himself from the persecution. As for Origen himself, 
 the aged, laborious, gifted, zealous teacher of his age, 
 he was just then engaged in answeriog the works of 
 an Epicurean called Celsus, and on him too the per- 
 secution was likely to fall ; and Csecilius prayed ear- 
 nestly that so great a soul might be kept from such 
 high untrue speculations as were threatening evil at 
 Antioch, and from every deceit and snare which might 
 endanger his inheriting that bright crown which ought 
 to be his portion in heaven. Another remarkable re- 
 port had come, viz. that some young men of Egypt had 
 retired to the deserts up the country under the stress 
 of the persecution, — Paul was the name of one of 
 them, — and that the3''were there living in the practice 
 of mortification and prayer so singular, and had com- 
 bats with the powers of darkness and visitations from 
 above so special, as to open quite a new era in the 
 spiritual history of the Church. 
 
 And then his thoughts came back to his poor Agel- 
 lius, and all those hundred private matters of anxiety 
 which the foes of the Church, occupied only with her 
 external aspect, little suspected. For Agellius he 
 prayed, and for his ; for the strange wayward Juba, 
 for Jucundus, for Callista ; ah! that CalJista might be 
 brought on to that glorious consummation for wdiich 
 she seemed marked out ! But tlie ways of the Most 
 High are not as our ways, and those who to us seem 
 nearest are often furthest from Him ; and so our 
 holy priest left the whole matter in the hands of Him 
 to whom he prayed, satisfied that he had done his 
 part in praying. 
 
 This was the course of thought which occupied him 
 for many hours, after he had closed the door, as we have 
 said, upon him, and knelt down before the cross. 
 Not merely before the symbol of redemption did he 
 kneel ; for he opened his tunic at the neck, and drew 
 thence a small golden pyx which was there suspended. 
 In that carefully fastened case was contained the 
 
166 CALLISTA ; 
 
 Holiest, liisLord and his God. That Everlasting Pre- 
 sence was his stay and guide amid his weary wander- 
 ings, his joy and consolation amid his overpowering 
 anxieties. Behold the secret of his sweet serenity, 
 and his clear unclouded determination. He placed It 
 upon the small table at which he knelt, and was soon 
 absorbed in meditation and intercession. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUBY. 1G7 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 How many hours passed while Cseciliiis was thus em- 
 ployed, he did not know. The sun was declining, 
 when he was roused by a noise at the door. He 
 hastily restored the sacred treasure to its hiding-place 
 in his breast, and rose up from his knees. The door 
 was thrown back, and a female form presented itself 
 at the opening. She looked in at the priest, and 
 said, "Then Agellius is not here." 
 
 The woman was young, tall, and gracefid in person. 
 She was clad in a yellow cotton tunic, reaching to her 
 feet, on which were shoes. The clasps at her shoulders, 
 partly visible under the short cloak or shawl which 
 was thrown over them, and which might, if necessary, 
 be drawn over her head, seemed to serve the purpose, 
 not only of fostening her dress, but of providing her 
 with sharp prongs or minute stilettos for her defence, 
 in case she fell in Avith ruffians by the way ; and though 
 the expression of her face was most feminine, there 
 was that about it which implied she could use them 
 for that purpose on an emergency. That face was 
 clear in complexion, regular in outline ; and at the 
 present time pale, whatever might be its ordinary 
 tint. Its charm was a noble and majestic calm. There 
 is the calm of divine peace and joy; there is the calm 
 of heartlessness ; there is the calm of reckless despera- 
 tion ; there is the calm of death. None of these was 
 the calm which breathed from the features of the 
 
IGS catj.ista: 
 
 stranger who intruded upon the solitude of Caeci- 
 lius. It was the calm of Greek sculpture ; it imaged a 
 soul nourished upon the visions of genius, and sub- 
 dued and attuned bj the power of a strong will. 
 There was no appearance of timidity in her manner ; 
 very little of modesty. The evening sun gleamed 
 across her amber robe, and lit it up till it glowed like 
 fire, as if she were invested in the marnagejlammeum, 
 and was to be claimed that evening as the bride of her 
 own bright god of day. 
 
 She looked at Csecilius, first with surprise, then 
 with anxiety ; and her words were, " You, I fear, are 
 of his people. If so, make the most of these hours. 
 The foe may be on you to-morrow morning. Fly 
 while you can." 
 
 " If I am a Christian," answered Csecilius, " what 
 are you who are so careful of ns ? Have you come 
 all the way from Sicca to give the alarm to mere 
 atheists and magic-mongers ? " 
 
 " Stranger," she said, " if you had seen what I have 
 seen, what 1 have heard of, to-day, you would not 
 wonder at my wish to save from a like fate the vilest 
 being on earth. A hideous mob is rioting in the city, 
 thirsting for the blood of Christians ; an accident may 
 turn it in the direction of Agellius. He is gone; 
 where is he ? Murderous outrages have already been 
 perpetrated ; you remain." 
 
 " She who is so tender of Christians," answered the 
 priest, " must herself have some sparks of the Chris- 
 tian flame in her own breast." 
 
 Callista sat down half unconsciously upon the bench 
 or stool near the door ; but she at once suddenly 
 started up again, and said, " Away, fly ! perhaps they 
 are coming; where is he ?" 
 
 "Fear not," said Csecilius; "Agellius has been con- 
 veyed away to a safe hiding-place ; for me, I shall be 
 taken care of; there is no need for hurry ; sit down 
 again. But you," he continued, "you must not be 
 found here." 
 
A SKETCH or THE TIIIED CENTUET. 169 
 
 " They know me^'' she said ; " I am icell known here. 
 I work for the temples. I have nothing to fear. I 
 am no Christian ;" and, as if from an inexplicable over- 
 ruling influence, she sat down again. 
 
 "Not a Christian yet, you mean," answered Cseci- 
 lius. 
 
 "A person must be born a Christian, sir," she re- 
 plied, " in order to take up the religion. It is a very 
 beautiful idea, as far as I have h' ard any thing about 
 it ; but one must suck it in with one's mother's milk." 
 
 " If so, it never could have come into the world," 
 said the priest. 
 
 She paused for a while. "It is true," she answered 
 at length, " but a new religion begins by appealing to 
 what is peculiar in the minds of a few. The doctrine, 
 floating on the winds, finds its own ; it takes posses- 
 sion of their minds; they answer its call; they are 
 brought together by that common influence ; they are 
 strong in each other's sympathy ; they create and 
 throw around them an external form, and thus they 
 found a religion. The sons are brought up in their 
 fathers' faith ; and what was the idea of a few becomes 
 at length the profession of a race. Such is Judaism ; 
 such the religion of Zoroaster, or of the Egyptians." 
 
 " Ton will find," said the priest, "that the greater 
 number of African Christians at this moment, for of 
 them I speak confidently, are converts in manhood, 
 not the sons of Christians. On the other hand, if 
 there be those who have left the faith, and gone up to 
 the capitol to sacrifice, these were Christians by here- 
 ditary profession. Such is my experience, and I think 
 the case is the same elsewhere." 
 
 She seemed to be speaking more for the sake of 
 getting answers than of objecting arguments. She 
 paused again, and thouglit ; then she said, " Man- 
 kind is made up of chisses of very various mental 
 complexion, as distinct from each other as the colours 
 which meet the eye. Eed and blue are incommensura- 
 
170 CALLISTA ; 
 
 ble : and in like manner, a Magian never can become 
 a Greek, or a Greek a Coelicolist. They do but make 
 themselves fools when they attempt it." 
 
 " Perhaps the most deeply convinced, the most tran- 
 quil-minded of all Christians," answered C^ecilius, 
 " will tell you, on the contrary, that there was a time 
 when they hated Christianity, and despised -and ill- 
 treated its professors." 
 
 " J never did any such thing," cried Callista, " since 
 the day I first heard of it. I am not its enemy, but I 
 cannot believe in it. I am sure I never could; I 
 never, never should be able." 
 
 " What is it you cannot believe ? " asked the priest. 
 
 "It seems too beautiful," she said, "to be anything 
 else than a dream. It is a thing to talk about, but 
 when you come near its professors you see it is impos- 
 sible. A most beautiful imagination, tliat is what it is. 
 Most beautiful its precepts, as far as I have heard of 
 them ; so beautiful, that in idea there is no difliculty. 
 The mind runs along with them as if it could accom- 
 plish them without an effort. "Well, its maxims are 
 too heaufifid to be believed ; and then, on the other 
 hand, its dogmas are too dismal, too shocking, too 
 odious to be believed. They revolt me." 
 
 " Such as what ? " asked Csecilius. 
 
 " Such as this," answered Callista. "Nothing will 
 ever make me believe that all my people have gone 
 and will go to an eternal Tartarus." 
 
 " Had we not better confine ourselves to something 
 more specific, more tangible ? " asked Csecilius gravely. 
 " I suppose if one individual may have that terrible 
 lot, another may, both may, many may. Suppose I 
 understand you to say that you never will believe that 
 you will go to an eternal Tartarus." 
 
 Callista gave a slight start, and showed some uneasi- 
 ness or displeasure. 
 
 " Is it not likely," continued he, " that you are 
 better able to speak of yourself, and to form a judg- 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEJfTURT. I7l 
 
 ment about yourself, than about others ? Perhaps if you 
 could first speak confidently about yourself, you would 
 be in a better position to speak about others also." 
 
 " Do you mean," she said in a calm tone, " that my 
 place, after tliis life, is an everlasting Tartarus ? " 
 
 " Are you happy ? " he asked in turn. 
 
 She paused, looked down, and in a deep clear voice 
 said, " No." There was a silence. 
 
 The priest began again : " Perhaps you have been 
 growing in unhappiness for years ; is it so ? you assent. 
 You have a heavy burden at your heart, you don't well 
 know what. And the chance is, that you will grow 
 in unhappiness for the next ten years to come. You 
 will be more and more unhappy tlie longer you live. 
 Did you live till you were an old woman, you would 
 not know how to bear your existence." 
 
 Callista cried out as if in bodily pain, " It is true, 
 sir, whoever told you. But how can you have the 
 heart to say it, to insult and mock me ! " 
 
 " God forbid ! " exclaimed Csecilius, " but let me go 
 on. Listen, my child. Be brave, and dare to look 
 at things as they are. Every day adds to your burden. 
 This is a law of your present being, somewhat more 
 certain than that which you just now so confidently 
 asserted, the impossibility of your believing in that law. 
 You cannot refuse to accept what is not an opinion, 
 but a fact. I say this burden which I speak of is not 
 simply a dogma of our creed, it is an undeniable fact of 
 nature. You cannot change it by wishing ; if you were 
 to live on earth two hundred years, it would not be 
 reversed, it would be more and more true. At the 
 end of two hundred years you would be too miserable 
 even for your worst enemy to rejoice in it." 
 
 Csecilius spoke, as if half in soliloquy or meditation, 
 though he was looking towards Callista. The contrast 
 between them was singular : he thus abstracted ; she 
 too, utterly forgetful of self, but absorbed in him, and 
 showing it by her e^ger eyes, her hushed breath, her 
 
172 CALLISTA ; 
 
 anxious attitude. At last she said impatiently, " Father, 
 you are speaking to yourself ; you despise me." 
 
 The priest looked straight at her ^Yith an open, un- 
 troubled smile, and said, " Callista, do not doubt me, 
 my poor child ; you are in my heart. I was praying 
 for you shortly before you appeared. No ; but, in so 
 serious a matter, as attempting to save a soul, I like to 
 speak to you in my Lord's sight. I am speaking to 
 you, indeed I am, my child ; but I am also pleading 
 with you in His behalf, and before His throne." 
 
 His voice trembled as he spoke, but he soon re- 
 covered himself. " Suffer me," he said. "I was say- 
 ing that if you lived five hundred years on earth, you 
 would but have a heavier load on you as time went 
 on. But you will not live, you will die. Perhaps you 
 will tell me you will then cease to be. I don't believe 
 you think so. I may take for granted that you think 
 with me, and with the multitude of men, that you will 
 still live, that you will still be you. You will still be 
 the same being, but deprived of those outward stays 
 and reliefs and solaces, which, such as they are, you 
 now enjoy. You will be yo.irself, shut up in yourself. 
 I have heard that people go mad at length, when 
 placed in solitary confinement. If then, on passing 
 hence, you are cut off" from what you had here, and 
 have only the company of yourself, I tliink your burden 
 will be, so far, greater, not less than it is now. 
 
 " Suppose, for instance, you had still your love of 
 conversing, and could not converse ; your love of the 
 poets of your race, and no means of recalling them ; 
 your love of music, and no instrument to play upon ; 
 your love of knowledge, and nothing to learn; your 
 desire of sympathy, and no one to love; would not 
 that be still greater misery ? 
 
 "Let me proceed a step further: supposing you 
 were among those you actually did «o^ love ; supposing 
 you did not like them, nor their occupations, and could 
 not understand their aims ; suppose there be, as Chris- 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 173 
 
 tians say, one Almighty God, and you did not like Him, 
 and had not taste for thinking of Him, and no interest 
 in what He was and what He did ; and supposing you 
 found that there was nothing else any w^here but He, 
 whom you did not love and whom you wished away ; 
 would you not be still more wretched ? 
 
 " And if this went on for ever, w^ould you not be in 
 great inexpressible pain for ever ? 
 
 " Assuming then, first, that the soul ever needs ex- 
 ternal objects to rest upon ; next, that it has no pro- 
 spect of any such when it leaves this visible scene; 
 and thirdly, tliat the hunger and thirst, the gnawing 
 of the heart, where it occurs, is as keen and piercing as 
 a flame ; it will follow there is nothing irrational in 
 the notion of an eternal Tartarus." 
 
 " I cannot answer you, sir," said Callista, " but I 
 do not believe the dogma on that account a whit the 
 more. My mind revolts from the notion. There must 
 be some way out of it." 
 
 "If, on the other hand," continued Csecilius, not 
 noticing her interruption, " if all your thoughts go one 
 way ; if you have needs, desires, aims, aspirations, all 
 of which demand an Object, and imply, by their very 
 existence, that such an Object does exist also ; and if 
 nothing here does satisfy them, and if there be a mes- 
 sage which professes to come from that Object, of whom 
 you already have the presentiment, and to teach you 
 about Him, and to bring the remedy you crave ; and if 
 those who try that remedy say with one voice that 
 the remedy answers ; are you not bound, Callista, at 
 least to look that way, to inquire into what you hear 
 about it, and to ask for His help, if He be, to enable 
 you to believe in Him ? " 
 
 "This is what a slave of mine used to say," cried 
 Callista abruptly ; "... and another, Agellius, hinted 
 
 the same thing "What is your remedy, what 
 
 your Object, what your Lo\'e, O Christian teacher ? 
 Why are you all so mysterious, so reserved in your 
 communications ? " 
 
174 CALLISTA ; 
 
 Csecilius was silent for a moment, and seemed at a 
 loss for an answer. At length he said, " Every man is 
 in that state which jou confess of yourself. \Ve have 
 no love for Him who alone lasts. AYe love those 
 things which do not last, but come to an end. Things 
 being thus. He whom we ought to love has determined 
 to win us back to Him. With this object He has 
 come into His own world, in the form of one of us 
 men. And in that human form He opens His arms 
 and W003 us to return to Him, our Maker. This is 
 our Worship, this is our Love, Callista." 
 
 " You talk as Chione," Callista answered ; " only that 
 she felt, and you teach. She could not speak of her 
 Master without blushing for joy. . . . And Agellius, 
 when he said one word about his Master, he too 
 began to blush " 
 
 It was plain that the priest could hardly command his 
 feelings, and they sat for a short while in silence. Then 
 Callista began, as if musing on what she had heard. 
 
 " A loved One," she said, "yet ideal ; a passion so 
 potent, so fresh, so innocent, so absorbing, so expul- 
 sive of other loves, so enduring, yet of One never 
 beheld ; — mysterious ! It is our own notion of the First 
 and Only Fair, yet embodied in a substance, yet dis- 
 solving again into a sort of imagination. ... It is 
 beyond me." 
 
 "There is but one Lover of souls," cried Caecilius, 
 " and He loves each one of us, as though there were no 
 one else to love. He died for each one of us, as if 
 there were no one else to die for. He died on the 
 shameful cross. ' Amor mens crucifixus est \' The 
 love which He inspires lasts, for it is the love of the 
 Unchangeable. • It satisfies, for He is inexhaustible. 
 The nearer we draw to Him, the more triumphantly 
 does He enter into us ; the longer He dwells in us, 
 "the more intimately have we possession of Him. It is 
 an espousal for eternity. This is why it is so easy for 
 us to die for our faith, at which the world marvels." 
 ^ " My Love is crucified." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE TnillD CENTURY. 175 
 
 Presently lie said, " Why will not you approach 
 Him ? why will not you leave the creature for the 
 Creator F ' ' 
 
 Callista seldom lost her self-possession ; for a mo- 
 ment she lost it now; tears gushed from her eyes. 
 " Impossible ! " she said, " what, I ? you do not know 
 me, father!" She paused, and then resumed in a 
 different tone, " No ! my lot is one way, yours an- 
 other. I am a child of Grreece, and have no happiness 
 than that, such as it is, which my own bright laud, my 
 own glorious race, give me. I may well be content, 
 I may well be resigned, I may well be proud, if I 
 possess that happiness. I must live and die where 
 I have been born. I am a tree which will not 
 bear transplanting. The Assyrians, the Jews, the 
 Egyptians, have their own mystical teaching. They 
 follow their happiness in their own way ; mine is a 
 different one. The pride of mind, the revel of the 
 intellect, the voice and eyes of genius, and the fond 
 beating heart, I cannot do without them. I cannot 
 do without what you. Christian, call sin. Let me 
 alone ; such as nature made me I will be. I cannot 
 change." 
 
 The change in her manner quite overcame Csecilius, 
 yet, while the disappointment thrilled through him, he 
 felt a most strange sympathy for the poor lost girl, 
 and his reply was full of emotion. "Am I a Jew ? " 
 he exclaimed ; " am / an Egyptian ? or an Assyrian ? 
 Have J from my youth believed and possessed what 
 now is my Life, my Hope, and my Love ? Child, icliat 
 was once my life ? Am not J too a brand plucked out 
 of the lire ? Do /deserve any thing but evil ? AVas 
 it not the Power, the Mighty Power of the only 
 Strong, the only Merciful, the grace of Emmanuel, 
 which has changed and won me r If He can change 
 me, an old man, could he not change a child like you ? 
 I, a proud, stern Eoman ; I, a lover of pleasure, a man 
 of letters, of political station, with formed habits, and 
 long associations, and complicated relations ; was it 1 
 
176 CALLISTA ; 
 
 who wrought this great change in me, who gained for 
 myself the power of hating what I once loved, of un- 
 learning \Yhat 1 once knew, nay, of even forgetting what 
 once I was ? Who has made you and me to differ, 
 but He who can, when He will, make us to agree? 
 It is His same Omnipotence who will transform you^ if 
 you will but come to be transformed." 
 
 A reaction had come over the proud and sensitive 
 mind of the Glreek girl. " So after all, priest," she 
 said, " you are but a man like others ; a frail guilty 
 person like myself. I can find plenty of persons who 
 do as I do ; I want some one who does not ; I want 
 some one to worship. I thought there was something 
 in you special and extraordinary. There was a gen- 
 tleness and tenderness mingled with your strength 
 which was new to me. I said. Here is at last a god. 
 My own gods are earthly, sensual ; I have no respect 
 for them, no faith in them. But there is nothing 
 better anywhere else. . . . Alas ! . . . " She started up, 
 and said with vehemence, " I thought you sinless ; you 
 confess to crime. . . . Ah ! how do I know ? " she con- 
 tinued ^\ ith a shudder, " that you are better than 
 those base hypocrites, priests of Isis or Mithras, whose 
 lustrations, initiations, new birth, white robes, and 
 laurel crowns, are but the instrument and cloke of 
 their intense depravity ? " And slie felt for the clasp 
 upon her shoulder. 
 
 Here her speech was interrupted by a hoarse sound, 
 borne upon the wind as of many voices blended into 
 one and softened by the distance, but which, under 
 the circumstances, neither of the parties to the above 
 conversatiou had any difBculty in assigning to its real 
 cause. " Dear father," she said, " the enemy is upon 
 you." 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CENTUET. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XX, 
 
 Theee was no room for doubt or for delay. " What 
 is to become of you, Callista?" he said; "they will 
 tear you to pieces." 
 
 " Fear nothing for me, father," she answered, " I 
 am one of them. They know me. Alas, I am no 
 Christian ! I have not abjured their rites ; but you, 
 lose not a moment." 
 
 " They are still at some distance," he said, " though 
 the wind gives us merciful warning of their coming." 
 He looked about the room, and took up the books of 
 Holy Scripture which were on the shelf " There is 
 nothing else," he said, " of special value here. Agellius 
 could not take them. Here, my child, I am going to 
 show you a great confidence. To few persons, not 
 Christians, would I show it. Take this blessed parch- 
 ment ; it contains the earthly history of our Divine 
 Master. Here you will see whom we Christians love. 
 Eead it ; keep it safely ; surrender it, when you have 
 the opportunity, into Christian keeping. My mind 
 tells me I am not wrong in lending it to you." He 
 handed to her the Gospel of St. Luke, while he put 
 the other two volumes into the folds of his own tunic. 
 
 "One word more," she said; "your name, should 
 I want you." 
 
 He took up a piece of chalk from the shelf, and 
 wrote upon the wall in distinct characters, 
 
 " Thascius Caecilius Cyprianus, Bishop of Carthage." 
 Hardly had she read the inscription, when the 
 
178 CALLISTA ; 
 
 voices of several meu were heard iu the very neigli- 
 bourhood of the cottage ; and hopiug to effect a diver- 
 sion in fiivour of Cfecilius, and being at once unsus- 
 picious of dauger to herself, and careless of her life, she 
 ran quickly forward to ineet them. Csecilius ought to 
 liave taken to flight without a moment's delay, but a 
 last sacred duty detained him. He knelt down and took 
 the pyx from liis bosom. He had eaten nothing that 
 day ; but even if otherwise, it was a crisis which 
 allowed him to consume the sacred species without 
 fasting. He hastily opened the golden case, adored 
 the blessed sacrament, and consumed it, purifying its 
 receptacle, and restoring it to its hiding-place. Then 
 he rose at once, and left the cottage. 
 
 He looked about ; Callista was no where to be seen. 
 She was gone ; so much was certain, no enemy was in 
 sight : it only remained for him to make off too. In 
 the confusion he turned in the wrong direction ; in- 
 stead of making ofii" at the back of the cottage from 
 which the voices had scared him, he ran across the 
 garden into the hollow way. It was all over with him 
 in an instant ; he fell at once into the hands of the 
 vaiiguard of the mob. 
 
 Many mouths were opened upon him all at once. 
 " The sorcerer ! " cried one ; " tear him to shreds ; we'll 
 teach him to brew his spells against the city.'* " Grive 
 us back our grapes and corn," said a second. " Have 
 a guard," said a third ; " he can turn you into swine 
 or asses, while there is breath in him." " Then be 
 the quicker with him," said a fourth, who was lifting 
 up a crowbar to discharge upon his head. "Hold ! " 
 said a tall swarthy youth, Avho had already warded off 
 several blows from him, " hold, will you ? don't you 
 see, if you kill him he can't undo the spell. Make 
 him first reverse it all ; make him take the curse off us. 
 Bring him along ; take him to Astarte, Hercules, or 
 old Saturn. We'll broil him on a gridiron till he 
 turns all these canes into vines, and makes olive 
 berries of the pebbles, and turns the dust of the earth 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTU ET. 179 
 
 into fine flour for our eating-. When he has done all 
 this, he shall dance a jig with a wild cow, and sit down 
 to supper with an hyena." 
 
 A loud scream of exultation broke forth from the 
 drunken and frantic multitude. " Along with hira ! " 
 continued the same speaker in a jeering tone. " Here, 
 put him on the ass, and tie his hands behind his back. 
 He shall go back in triumph to the city which he loves. 
 Mind and don't touch him before the time. If you 
 kill liim, you'll never get the curse off. Come here, 
 you priests of Cybele," he added, "and be his body- 
 guard." And he continued to keep a vigilant eye and 
 hand over the old man, in spite of them. 
 
 The ass, though naturally a good-tempered beast, had 
 been most sadly tried through the day. • He had been 
 fed, indeed, out of mockery, as being the Christians' 
 god ; but he did not understand the shouts and caprices 
 of the crowd, and he only waited for an opportunity to 
 sbow that he by no means acquiesced in the proceed- 
 ings of the day. And now the difficulty was to move 
 at all. The people kept crowding up the hollow road, 
 and blocked the passage ; and though the greater part of 
 the rioters had either been left behind exhausted in Sicca 
 itself, or had poured over the fields on each side of 
 Agellius's cottage, or gone right over the hill down into 
 the valley beyond, yet still it was some time before the 
 ass could move a step, and a time of nervous suspense it 
 was both to Ca^cilius and the youth who befriended 
 him. At length w^hat remained of the procession was 
 persuaded to turn about and make for Sicca, but in a 
 reversed order. It could not be brought round in so 
 confined a space, so its rear went first, and the ass 
 and its burden came last. As they descended the hill 
 back again, Csecilius, who was mounted upon the linen 
 and silk which had adorned the Dea Syra before the 
 Tertullianist had destroyed the idol, saw before him 
 the whole line of march. In front were flaunted the 
 dreadful emblems of idolatrv, so far as their bearers 
 n2 
 
180 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 were able still to raise tliem. Drunken women, ragged 
 boys mounted on men's shoulders, ruffians and bullies, 
 savage-looking Getulians, half-human monsters from 
 the Atlas, monkeys and curs jabbering and howling, 
 mummers, bacchanals, satyrs, and gesticulators, formed 
 the staple of the procession. Midway between the 
 hill which he was descending and the city lay the 
 ravine, of which we have several times spoken, widen- 
 ing out into the plain or Campus Martins which 
 reached round to the steep cliffs on the north. The 
 bridle-path, along which he was moving, crossed it just 
 where it was opening and became level, so as to present 
 no abrupt descent and ascent at the place where the 
 path was lowest. On the left every vestige of it soon 
 ceased, and a free passage extended to the plain. 
 
 The youth Avho had placed C?ecilius on the ass, still 
 kept close to him, and sung at the pitch of his voice, in 
 imitation of the rest, 
 
 *' Sporting and snorting in shades of the night, 
 His ears pricking up, and his hoofs striking hght, 
 And his tail whisking round in the speed of his flight." 
 
 " Old man," he continued to Csecilius in a low 
 voice, and in Latin, " your curse has not worked on 
 me yet." 
 
 " My son," answered the priest, "you are granted 
 o^ie day more for repentance." 
 
 " Lucky for you, as well as for me," was the reply: 
 and he continued his song. 
 
 " Gurta, the witch, was out with the rest; 
 Though as lame as a gull, by his highness possessed, 
 She shouldered her crutch, and danced vdth the best. 
 
 " She stamped and she twirled in the shade of the yew, 
 Till her gossips and chums of the city danced too ; 
 They never are slack when there's mischief to do. 
 
 " She danced and she coaxed, but he was no fool ; 
 He'd be his own master, he'd not be her tool ; 
 Not the little black moor should send him to school." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 181 
 
 He then turned to C?ecilius, and whispered, " You 
 see, old father, that others, besides Christians, can 
 forgive and forget. Henceforth call me generous 
 Juba." And he tossed his head. 
 
 Bj this time they had got to the bottom of the hill, 
 and the deep shadows which filled the hollow showed 
 that the sun was rapidly sinking in the west. Sud- 
 denly, as they were crossing the bottom as it opened 
 into the plain, Juba seized and broke the thong which 
 bound Ciecilius's arms, and bestowing a tremendous 
 cut with it upon tlie side of the ass, sent him forward 
 upon the plain at his full speed. The asses of Africa 
 can do more on an occasion of this kind than our 
 own. C?0cilius for the moment lost his seat; but, 
 instantly recovering it, took care to keep the animal 
 from flagging ; and the cries of the mob, and the bowl- 
 ings of the priests of Cybele co-operated in the task. 
 At length the gloom, increasing every minute, hid him 
 from their view ; and even in daylight his recapture 
 would have been a difficult matter for a wearied-out, fa- 
 mished, and intoxicated rabble. Before he well had time 
 to return thanks for this unexpected turn of events, 
 C?eciliu3 was out of pursuit, and was ambling at a pace 
 more suitable to the habits of the beast of burden that 
 carried him, over an expanse of plain which would 
 have been a formidable night-march to a fasting 
 man. 
 
 AYe must not conclude the day without relating 
 what was its issue to the persecutors, as well as to 
 their intended victim. It is almost a proverb that 
 punishment is slow in overtaking crime; but the 
 present instance was an exception to the rule. "While 
 the exiled bishop of Carthage escaped, the crowd, on 
 the other hand, were caught in the trap which had 
 been laid for them. We have already said it was 
 a ruse on the part of the governing authorities of the 
 place to get the rioters out of the city, that they migh; 
 at once be relieved of them, and then deal with theni 
 
182 CALLISTA ; 
 
 just as they might think fit. AVhen the mob was 
 once outside the walls, thej might be refused re- 
 admittance, and put down with a strong hand. The 
 Eoman garrison, who, powerless to quell the tumult in 
 the narrow and winding streets and multiplied alleys 
 of tlie city, had been the authors of the manoeuvre, 
 now took on themselves the stern completion of it, and 
 determined to do so in the sternest way. Not a single 
 head of all those who poured out in the afternoon 
 should return at night. It was not to be supposed that 
 the soldiers had any tenderness for the Christians, but 
 they abominated and despised the rabble of the town. 
 They were indignant at their rising, thought it a per- 
 sonal insult to themselves, and resolved they should 
 never do so again. The gates were commonly in the 
 custody of the city guard, but the Porta Septimiana, 
 by which the miob passed out, was on this occasion 
 claimed by the Eomans. It was most suitably cir- 
 cumstanced for the use they intended to make of it. 
 Immediately outside of it was a large court of the same 
 level as the ground inside, bordered on the right and 
 left by substantial walls, which after a time were 
 drawn to meet each other, and contracted the space 
 to the usual breadth of a road. The walls continued 
 to run along this road for some distance, till they 
 joined the way which led to the Campus Martins, and 
 from this point the ground was open, till it reached 
 the head of the ravine. The soldiers drew up at the 
 gates, and as the worn-out and disappointed, brutalized 
 and half-idiotic multitudes returned towards it from 
 the country, those who were behind pushed on between 
 the border walls those who were in front, and, while they 
 jammed together their ranks, also made escape impos- 
 sible. It was now that the Eoman soldiers began their 
 barbarous, not to say cowardly, assault upon them. With 
 heavy maces, with the pike, with iron gauntlets, with 
 stones and bricks, with clubs, with the scourge, with the 
 sword, with the helmet, with whatever came to hand, 
 they commenced the massacre of that large concourse 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIED CENTUET. 183 
 
 of human beings, who did not offer one blow in return. 
 They slaughtered them like sheep ; they trampled 
 them down ; they threw the bodies of the wounded 
 over the wall. Attempting to run back, numbers of 
 the poor wretches came into conflict with the ranks 
 behind them, and an additional scene of confusion and 
 overthrow took place ; numbers straggled over to the 
 opeji country or woods, and perished, cither from the 
 weather, or from hunger, or even from the wild beasts. 
 Others, weakened by excess and famine, fell a prey to 
 the pestilence that was raging. After some days 
 a remnant of them was allowed silently and timidly 
 to steal back into the city as best they could. It 
 was a long day before the Plebs Siccensis ventured 
 to have any opinion of its own upon the subject of 
 Christianity,, or any other political, social, or eccle 
 siastical topic whatever. 
 
184 CALLISTA , 
 
 CHAPTEH XXI. 
 
 "When Jucundus rose next morning, and heard the 
 news, he considered it to be more satisfactory than he 
 could have supposed possible. He was a zealous 
 imperialist, and a lover of tranquillity, a despiser of the 
 natives, and a hater of the Christians. The Christians 
 had suffered enough to vindicate the Koman name, to 
 deter those who were playing at Christianity, and to 
 show that tbe people of Sicca had their eyes about 
 them. And the mob had received a severe lesson 
 too ; and the cause of public order had triumphed, 
 and civic peace was re-established. His anxiety, 
 too, about AgelHus had terminated, or was terminating. 
 He had privately denounced him to the government, 
 come to an understanding with tlie military authorities, 
 and obtained the custody of him. He had met him at 
 the very door to which the boy Firmius brought him, 
 with an apparitor of the military staff (or what an- 
 swered to it), and had clapped him into prison in an 
 underground cellar in which he kept damaged images, 
 and those which had gone out of fashion, and were 
 otherwise unsaleable. He was not at all sorry, by 
 some suffering, and by some fright, to aid the more 
 potent incantation which Callista was singing in his 
 ears. He did not, however, at all forget Juba's hint, 
 and was careful not to overdo the raek-and-gridiron- 
 dodge, if we may so designate it; yet he thought just 
 a flavour or a thou";ht of the inconveniences which 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIED CENTUET. 185 
 
 the profession of Christianity involved might be a 
 salutary reflection in the midst of the persuasives 
 which the voice and eyes of Callista kindled in his 
 heart. There was nothing glorious or heroic in being 
 confined in a lumber cellar, no one knowing any thing 
 about it ; and he did not mean to keep him there for 
 ever. 
 
 As the next day wore on towards evening rumour 
 brought a piece of news which he was at first utterly un- 
 able to credit, and for the moment seemed likely to spoil 
 the appetite which promised so well for his evening 
 repast. He could hardly believe his ears w^henhe 
 was told that Callista was in arrest on a. charge of 
 Christianity, and at first it made him look as black as 
 some of those Egyptian gods which he had on one shelf 
 of his shop. However, he rallied, and was very much 
 amused at the report. The imprisonment indeed was 
 a fact, account for it as one could ; but who coitld 
 account for it ? " Yarium et mutabile ^ ;" who could 
 answer for the whims and fancies of womankind ? If 
 she had fallen in love with the owl of Minerva, or cut 
 off her auburn tresses, or turned rope-dancer, there 
 might have been some shrugging of shoulders, but no 
 one would have tried to analyze the motive ; but so 
 much his profound sagacity enabled him to see, that, if 
 there was one thing more than another likely to sicken 
 Agellius of Christianity, it was to find one who was 
 so precious to him suffering from the suspicion of it. 
 It was bad enough to have suffered oneself in such a 
 cause ; still he could conceive, he was large-minded 
 enough to grant, that Agellius might have some secret 
 satisfaction in the antagonist feeling of resentment and 
 obstinacy which that suffering might engender ; but it 
 was carrying matters too far, and no comfort in any 
 point of view, to find Callista, his beloved, the object 
 of a similar punishment. It was all very well to 
 profess Christianity as a matter of sentiment, mystery, 
 
 1 '* A woman is variable and changeable." 
 
186 CALLISTA ; 
 
 and singularity ; but when it was found to compromise 
 tlie life or limbs of another, and that other Callista, 
 why it was plain that Agellius would be the very first 
 to try and entreat the wayward girl to keep her good 
 looks for him, and to be loyal to the gods of her 
 country ; and he chuckled over the thought, as others 
 have done in other states of society,* of a love-scene 
 or marriage being the termination of so much high 
 romance and fine acting. 
 
 However, the next day Aristo came down to him 
 himself, and gave him an account at once more au- 
 thentic and more extended on the matter which in- 
 terested him. Callista had been called up before the 
 tribunal, and had not been discharged, but remanded. 
 The meaning of it was as obscure as ever ; Aristo 
 could give no account of it ; it almost led him to be- 
 lieve in the evil eye; some unholy practices, some 
 spells such as only potent wizards know, some de- 
 plorable delusion or hallucination, had for the time got 
 the mastery of his sister's mind. No one -seemed 
 quite to know how she had found her way into the 
 hands of the officers ; but there she was, and the pro- 
 blem was how to get her out of them. 
 
 However, whatever mystery, whatever anxiety at- 
 tached to the case, it was only still more urgent to 
 bring the matter home to Agellius without delay. If 
 time went on before the parties were brought together, 
 she might grow more obstinate, and kindle a like 
 spirit in him. that boys and girls would give old 
 people, who wish them well, so much trouble ! How- 
 ever, it was no good thinking of that just then. He 
 thought that, at the present moment, they would not 
 be able to bear the sight of each other in suftering and 
 peril ; that mutual tenderness would make them plead 
 with each other in each other's behalf, and that each 
 Avould be obliged to set the example to each of a con- 
 cession, to which each exhorted each ; and on this fine 
 philosophical view he proceeded to act. . 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 !FoE tMrtj-six hours Agellius had been confined in 
 his underground receptacle, light being almost ex- 
 cluded, a bench and a rug being his means of repose, 
 and a full measure of bread, wine, and olives being 
 his dole. The shrieks and yells of the rioters could 
 be distinctly heard in his prison, as the day of his 
 seizure went on, and they passed by the temple of 
 Astarte ; but what happened there, and how it fared 
 with Caecilius, he had no means of conjecturing ; nor 
 indeed how it was to fare with himself, ibr, on the face 
 of the transaction, as was in form the fact, he was in 
 the hands of the law, and only indulged with the house 
 of a relative for his prison. On the second night he 
 was released by his uncle's confidential slave, who 
 brought him up to a small back closet on the ground 
 floor, which was lighted from the roof, and next morn- 
 ing, being the second day after the riot, Jucundus 
 came in to have his confidential conversation with him. 
 His uncle began by telling him tiiat he was a go- 
 vernment prisoner, but that he hoped by his influence 
 in high places to get him oW and out of Sicca, without 
 any prejudice to his honour. He told him that he 
 had managed it privately, and if he had treated him 
 with apparent harshness up to the evening before, it 
 was in order to save appearances with the apparitors 
 who had attended him. He then went on to inform 
 him that the mob had visited his cottage, and had 
 
188 calltsta; 
 
 cauglit some man there ; lie supposed some accomplice 
 or ally of his nephew's. They had seized him, ana 
 were bringing him off, but the fellow had been clever 
 enough to effect his escape. He did not know more 
 than this, but it had happened very fortunately, for 
 the general belief in the place was, that it was Agellius 
 who had been taken, and who had managed to give 
 them the slip. Since it could not any longer be safely 
 denied that he was a Christian, thougli he did not 
 think so himself, he had encouraged or rather had given 
 his confirmation to the report ; and when some per- 
 sons who had means of knowing had asserted that the 
 culprit was double the age of his nephew, and more, 
 and not at all of his make or description, but a sort of 
 slave, or rather that he was the slave of Agellius who 
 had belonged to his father Strabo, Jucundus had 
 boldly asserted that Agellius, in the emergency, had 
 availed himself of some of the remarkably powerful 
 charms which Christians were known to possess, and 
 had made himself seem what he really was not, in order 
 to escape detection. It had not indeed answered the 
 purpose entirely, for he had actually been taken ; but 
 no blame in the charm, which perhaps after all had 
 enabled him to escape. However, Agellius was gone, 
 he told people, and a good riddance, and he hoped 
 never to see him again. " But you see, my dear boy," 
 lio concluded, " this was all talk for the occasion, for 
 I hope you will live here many years in respectability 
 and credit. I intend you should close my eyes when 
 my time comes, and inlierit whatever I have to leave 
 you ; for as to that fellow Juba, he inspires me with 
 no confidence in him at all." 
 
 Agellius thanked his uncle with all his heart for his 
 kind and successful efforts in his behalf; he did not 
 think there was a word he had said in the future he 
 had sketched for him which he could wish altered. 
 In one point he thought Jucundus over-sanguine, 
 much as he should like to live with him and tend him 
 in his old age : he did not think he should ever be per- 
 
A SKETCn OE THE THIRD CENTURY. 189 
 
 mitted to return to Sicca. He must seek some remote 
 corner of the world, or at least some city where he 
 was unknown. Every one in Sicca would point at him 
 as the Christian; he would experience a thousand 
 rubs and collisions, even if the mob did not rise against 
 him, without corresponding advantage ; on the other 
 hand, he would have no influence. But were he in 
 the midst of a powerful and widely extended commu- 
 nity of Christians, he might in his place do work, and 
 might extend the faith as one of a number, unknown 
 himself, and strong in his brethren. He therefore 
 proposed as soon as possible to sell his effects and 
 stock, and retire from the sight of men, at least for a 
 time. 
 
 " You think this persecution, then, will be soon at 
 an end ?" asked Jucundus. 
 
 "I judge by the past," answered Agellius; "there 
 have been times of trial and of rest hitherto, and 
 I suppose it will be so again. And one place has 
 hitherto been exempt from the violence of our ene- 
 mies, when another has been the victim of it." 
 
 "A new time is coming, trust me," said Jucundus 
 gravely. "Those popular commotions are all over. 
 What happened two days ago is a sample of what will 
 come of them ; they have received their coup-de-grdce. 
 The state is taking up the matter, Eome itself, thank 
 the gods ! a tougher sort of customer than these vil- 
 lain ratcatchers and ofllil-eaters, whom you had to do 
 with two days since. Grreat Eome is now at length 
 in earnest, my boy, which she ought to have been a 
 long time back, before you were born, and then you 
 know," and he nodded, " you would have had no 
 choice ; you wouldn't have had the temptation to 
 make a fool of yourself." 
 
 " AYell then," answered Agellius, "if a new time is 
 really coming, there is less chance than ever of my 
 continuing here." 
 
 "l!Cow be a sensible fellow, as you are when you 
 choose," said his uncle ; "look the matter in the face, 
 
190 CALLISTA ; 
 
 do. You cannot wrestle witli impossibilities, you 
 cannot make facts to pattern. There are lawful reli- 
 gions, there are illicit. Christianity is illicit ; it is not 
 tolerated; that's not j^our fault ; you cannot help it ; 
 you would, if you could; you can't; now you have 
 observed your point of honour. You have shown you 
 can stand ujd like a man, and suffer for your own 
 fancy. Still Eome does not give way ; and you must 
 make the best of it. You must give in, and you are 
 far too good (I don't compliment, I speak my mind), 
 far too amiable, excellent, sweet a boy for so rascally 
 a superstition." 
 
 "There is something stronger than Eome," said 
 the nephew almost sternly. 
 
 "Agellius!" answered Jucundus shortly, "j^ou 
 must not say that in this house. You shall not use 
 that language under my roof. I'll not put up with it, 
 
 I tell you. Take your treason elsewhei'e This 
 
 accursed obstinacy!" he said to himself, "but I must 
 take care what I am doing;" then aloud, 'Well, we 
 both of us have been railing ; no good comes of rail- 
 ing; railing is not argument. Eut now, I say, do be 
 sensible, if you can. Is not th-e imperial government 
 in earnest now ? better late than never, but it is now in 
 earnest. An*d now mark my words, by this day five 
 years, five years at the utmost, — I say by this day five 
 years there will not be a single ragamuffin Christian 
 in the whole Eoman world." And he looked fierce. 
 " Ye gods ! Eome, Eome has swept from the earth by 
 ber very breath conspiracies, confederacies, plots 
 against her, without ever failing; she will do so now 
 with this contemptible, Jew-begotten foe." 
 
 "In what are we enemies to Eome, Jucundus?" 
 said Agellius ; " why will you always take it for 
 granted F" 
 
 " Take it for granted ! " answered he, " is it not on 
 the face of the matter ? I suppose thei/ are enemies to a 
 state, whom the state calls its enemies. Besides, why 
 a pother of words ? Swear by the genius of the em- 
 
A SKETCH OF TKE THIRD CENTURY. 191 
 
 peror, invoke tlie Dea Eoma, sacrifice to Jove ; no, not 
 a bit of it, not a whisper, not a sign, not a grain of 
 incense. You go out of your way to insult us ; and 
 then you come with a grave face, and say you are 
 loyal. You kick our shins, and you wish us to kiss 
 you on both cheeks for it. A few harmless ceremo- 
 nies ; we are not entrapping you ; we are not using 
 your words against yourselves ; we tell you the mean- 
 ing beforehand, the whole meanmg of them. It is not 
 as if we tied you to the belief of the nursery : we don't 
 say, ' If you burn incense, you profess to believe that 
 old Jupiter is shivering atop of Olympus ;' we don't 
 say, ' You swear by the genius of Csssar, therefore he 
 has a genius, black, or white, or piebald.' JSTo, we 
 give you the meaning of the act; it is a mere expres- 
 sion of loyalty to the empire. If then you won't do 
 it, you confess yourself, ijjso facto disloyal. It is in- 
 comprehensible." And he had become quite red. 
 
 "My dear uncle," said Agellius, " I give you my 
 solemn word, that the people whom you so detest do 
 pray for the welfare of the imperial power continually, 
 as a matter of duty and as a matter of interest," 
 
 " Pray ! pray ! fudge and nonsense !" cried Jucundus, 
 almost mimicking him in his indignation ; " pray ! who 
 thanks you for your prayers ? w^hat's the good of 
 prayers ? Prayers indeed ! ha, ha ! A little loyalty 
 is worth all the praying in the world. I'll tell you 
 what, Agellius ; you are, I am sorry to say it, but you 
 are hand and glove witii a set of traitors, who shall and 
 will be smoked out like a nest of wasps. You don't 
 know ; i/oii, are not in the secret, nor the wretched 
 slave, poor beast, who was pulled to pieces yesterday 
 (ah ! you don't know of him) at the Flaraen's, nor a 
 multitude of other idiots. But, d'ye see," and he 
 chucked up his head significantly, " there are puppets, 
 and there are wires. Few know what is going on. 
 They won't have done (unless we put them down; 
 but we will) till they have toppled down the state. 
 But Eome will put them down. Come, be sensible. 
 
192 CALLISTA ; 
 
 listen to reason ; now I am going to put facts before 
 my poor, dear, well-meaning boy. O that you saw 
 things as I do! What a trouble you are to me! 
 Here am I — " 
 
 "My dearest uncle, Jucundus," cried Agellius, "I 
 assure you, it is the most intense pain to me — " 
 
 "Very well, very well," interrupted the uncle in 
 turn, " I believe it, of course I believe it ; but listen, 
 listen. Every now and then," he continued in a more 
 measured and lower tone, " every now and then the 
 secret is blabbed, — blabbed. There was that Tertul- 
 lianus of Carthage, some fifty years since. He wrote 
 books ; books have done a great deal of harm before 
 now; but read his books. Eead and ponder. The 
 fellow has the insolence to tell the proconsul that he 
 and the whole government, the whole city and pro- 
 vince, the whole Eoman world, the emperors, all but 
 the pitiful cliq^ue to which he belongs, are destined, 
 after death, to flames for ever and ever. There's 
 loyalty ! but the absurdity is greater than the male- 
 volence. E-ightly are the fellows called atheists and 
 men-haters. Our soldiers, our statesmen, our magis- 
 trates and judges, and senators, and the whole com- 
 munity, all worshippers of the gods, every one who 
 crowns his head, every one who loves a joke, and all 
 our great historic names, heroes, and worthies, — the 
 Scipios, the Decii, Brutus, Caesar, Cato, Titus, Trajan, 
 Antoninus, — are inmates, not of the Elysian fields, if 
 Elysian fields there are, but of Gi^artarus, and will never 
 find a way out of it." 
 
 "That man is nothing to us, uncle," answered 
 Agellius ; " a man of great ability, but he quarrelled 
 with us, and left us." 
 
 " I can't draw nice distinctions," said Jucundus. 
 " Tour people have quarrelled among themselves, per- 
 haps on an understanding ; we can't split hairs. It's 
 the same with your present hierophant at Carthage, 
 Cyprianus. Nothing can exaggerate, I am told, the 
 foulness of his attack upon the gods of Eome, upon 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CENTTJET. 193 
 
 Eomulus, the Augurs, the Ancilia, the consuls, and 
 whatever a Roman is proud of. As to the imperial 
 city itself, -there's hardly one of their high priests 
 that has not died under the hands of the executioner, 
 or as a convict. The precious fellows take the title 
 of Pontifex Maximus ; bless their impudence. AVell, 
 my boy, this is what I say ; be, if you will, so pre- 
 ternaturally sour and morose as to misconceive and 
 mislike the innocent, graceful, humanizing, time- 
 honoured usages of society ; be so, for what I care, if 
 this is all ; but it isn't all. Such misanthropy is wis- 
 dom, absolute wisdom, compared Avith the Titanic pre- 
 sumption and audacity of challenging to single com- 
 bat the sovereign of the world. Gro and kick down 
 mount Atlas first." 
 
 " You have it all your own way, Jucundus," an- 
 swered his nephew, "and so you must move in your 
 own circle, round and round.* There is no touching you, 
 if yoii first assume your premisses, and then prove 
 them by means of your conclusion." 
 
 "My dear Agellius," said his uncle, giving his head 
 a very solemn shake, " take the advice of an old man. 
 When you are older than you are, you will see better 
 who is right and who is wrong. You'll be sorry you 
 despised me, a true, a prudent, an experienced friend ; 
 you will. Shake yourself, come, do. Why should 
 you link your fortunes, in the morning of life, with 
 desperate men, only because your father, in his last 
 feeble days, was entrapped into doing so ? I really 
 will not believe that you are going to throw away hope 
 and life on so bad a bargain. Can't you speak a word. 
 Here you've let me speak, and won't say one syllable 
 for yourself. I don't think it kind of you." 
 
 Thus adjured, Agellius began. "Well," he said, 
 " it's a long history ; you see, we start, my dear uncle, 
 from diflerent points. How am I possibly to join 
 issue with you ? I can only tell you my conclusion. 
 Hope and life, you say. Why, my only hope, my only 
 
 o 
 
194 CALLISTA ; 
 
 life, my only joy, desire, consolation, and treasure is 
 that I am a Christian." 
 
 " Hope and life !" interrupted Jucundus, " immortal 
 gods ! life and hope in being a Christian ! do I hear 
 aright ? Why man, a prison brings despair, not hope ; 
 and the sword brings death, not life. By Esculapius ! life 
 and hope ! you choke me, Agellius. Life and hope ! 
 you are beyond three Anticyras. Life and hope ! if you 
 were old, if you were diseased, if you were given over, 
 and had but one puff of life left in you, then you 
 might be what you would, for me; but your hair is 
 black, your cheek is round, your limbs are strong, 
 your voice is full ; and you are going to make all these 
 a sacrifice to Hecate ! has your good genius fed that 
 plump frame, ripened those good looks, nerved your 
 arm, bestowed that breadth of chest, that strength of 
 loins, that straightness of spine, that vigour of step, 
 only that you may feed the crows ? or to be torn on 
 the rack, scorched in the flame, or hung on the gib- 
 bet ? is this your gratitude to nature ? "What has 
 been your price? for what have you sold yourself ? 
 Speak, man, speak. Are you dumb as well as dement ? 
 Are 3^ou dumb, I say, are you dmnb ?" 
 
 " O Jucundus," cried Agellius, irritated at his own 
 inability to express himself or hold an argument, "if 
 you did but know what it was to have the Truth! 
 The Christian has found the Truth, the Eternal Truth, 
 in a world of error. That is his bargain, that is his 
 hire ; can there be a greater ? Can I give up the 
 Truth ? But all this is Punic or Barbar to you." 
 
 It certainly did pose Jucundus for half a minute, as 
 if he was trying to take in, not so much the sense, as 
 the words of his nephew's speech. He looked amazed, 
 and though he began to answer him at once, it took 
 several sentences to bring him into his usual flow of 
 language. After one or two exclamations, " The truth !" 
 he cried, " this is what I understand you to say, — the 
 truth. The ti'iUh is your bargain ; I think I'm right, 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEXTURT. 195 
 
 the truth I Hm ; what is truth ? AVhat in heaven and 
 earth do 3-ou mean by truth ? where did you get that 
 cant ? "What oriental tomfoolery is bamboozling you ? 
 The truth!" he cried, staring at him with eyes, half 
 of triumph, half of impatience, " the truth ! Jove help 
 the boy! — the truth! can truth pour me out a cup 
 of melilotus ? can truth crown me with flowers ? can it 
 sing to me ? can it bring Grlyceris to me ? drop gold 
 into my girdle ? or cool my brows when fever visits 
 me ? Can truth give me a handsome suburban with 
 some five hundred slaves, or raise me to the duum- 
 virate ? Let it do this, and 1 will worship it ; it shall 
 be my god ; it shall be more to me than Fortune, Fate, 
 Home, or any other goddess on the list. But 2 like 
 to see, and touch, and feel, and handle, and weigh, 
 and measure what is promised me. I wish to have a 
 sample and an instalment. I am too old for chaff. 
 Eat, drink, and be merry, that's my philosophy, that's 
 my religion; and I know no better. To-day is ours, 
 to-morrow is our children's." 
 
 After a pause, he added bitterly. " If truth could 
 get Callista out of prison, instead of getting her into 
 it, I should have something to say to truth." 
 
 " CaUista in prison!" cried Ageliius with surprise 
 and distress, "what do you mean, Jucundus?" 
 
 "Yes, it's a fact; Callista is in prison," answered 
 he, "and on suspicion of Christianity." 
 
 " Callista! Christianity !" said Ageliius, bewildered; 
 " do I hear aright ? She a Christian ! oh, impossible, 
 uncle! you don't mean to say that she is in prison. 
 Tell me, tell me, my dear, dear Jucundus, what this 
 wonderful news means." 
 
 "You ought to know about it more than I," an- 
 swered he, " if there is any meaning in it. But if you 
 want my opinion,, here it is. I don't believe she is 
 more a Christian than I am ; but I think she is over 
 liead and ears in love with you, and she has some 
 notion that she is paying you a compliment, or inter- 
 esting you in her, or sharing your fate— (J can't pre- 
 o 2 
 
196 CALLISTA ; 
 
 tend to unravel the vagaries and tautaruras of the 
 female mind) — by saying that she is ^vl]at she is 7iot. 
 If not, perhaps she has done it out of spite and con- 
 tradiction. You can never answer for a woman." 
 
 ''Whom should she spite? whom contradict?" 
 cried Agellius, thrown for the moment off his balance. 
 " O Callista ! Callista in prison for Christianity ! Oh 
 if it's true that she is a Christian ! but what if she's 
 not ?" he added with great terror, " what if she's not, 
 and yet in prison, as if she were ? How are we to 
 get her out, uncle? Impossible! no, she's not a 
 Christian, — she is not at all. She ought not to be 
 there ! Yet how wonderful ! " 
 
 "AVell, I am sure of it too," said Jucundus; "I'd 
 stake the best image in my shop that she's not a 
 Christian ; but what if she is perverse enough to say 
 she is 't and such things are not uncommon. Then, I 
 say, what in the world is to be done ? If she says she 
 is, why she is. There you are ; and what can you 
 do?" 
 
 "You don't mean to say," exclaimed Agellius, 
 "that that sweet, delicate child is in that horrible 
 hole, impossible!" and he nearly shrieked at the 
 thought. " AVhat is the meaning of it all? dear, 
 dear uncle, do tell me something more about it. Why 
 did you not tell me before ? AVhat can be done ?" 
 
 Jucundus thought he now had him in his hand. 
 " Why, it's plain," he answered, " what can be done. 
 She's no Christian, we both agree. It's certain too, 
 that she chooses to say she is, or something like it. 
 There's just one person who has influence with her, 
 to make her tell the truth." 
 
 "Ha!" cried Agellius, starting as if an asp had 
 bitten him. 
 
 Jucundus kept silence, and let the poison of the 
 said asp work awhile in his nephew's blood. 
 
 Agellius put his hands before his eyes ; and with 
 his elbows on his knees, began moving to and fro, as 
 if in intense pain. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 197 
 
 "I repeat what I have said," Jucundus observed 
 at length ; " I do really think that she fancies a cer- 
 tain young gentleman is likely to be in trouble, and 
 that she is determined to share the trouble with him." 
 
 "But it isn't true," cried Agellius with great vehe- 
 mence ; " it's not true. . . If she really is not a Chris- 
 tian, my dear Lord, surely they won't put her to 
 death as if she was ?" 
 
 " But if she has made up her mind to be in the 
 same boat witli you, and ivill be a Christian while you 
 are a Christian, what on earth can we do, Agel- 
 lius?" asked Jucundus. "You have the whole mat- 
 ter in a nutshell." 
 
 "She does not love me," cried Agellius; "no, she 
 has given me no reason to think so. I am sure she 
 does not. She's nothing to me. That cannot be the 
 reason of her conduct. I have no power over her ; 1 
 could not persuade her. What, what does all this 
 mean? and I shut up here!" and he began walking 
 about the little room, as if such locomotion tended to 
 bring him out of it. 
 
 "Well," answered Jucundus, "it is easy to ascer- 
 tain. I suppose, you could be let out to see her." 
 
 But he was going on too fast; Agellius did not 
 attend to him. "Poor, sweet Callista," he exclaimed, 
 " she's innocent, she's innocent ; I mean, she's not a 
 Christian. Ah!" he screamed out in great agony, as 
 the whole state of the case unrolled itself to his ap- 
 prehension, " she will die though not a Christian ; she 
 will die without faith, without love; she will die in 
 her sins. She will die, done to death by false report 
 of accepting that, by which alone she could be carried 
 safely through death unto life. my Lord, spare 
 me!" and he sank upon the ground in a collapse of 
 misery. 
 
 Jucundus was touched, and still more alarmed. 
 "Come, come, my boy," he said, "you will rouse the 
 whole neighbourhood. Give over; be a man; all will 
 be right. If she's not a Christian (and she's not), 
 
198 CALLISTA ; 
 
 she shall not die a Christian's death ; something "will 
 turn np. She's not in any hole at all, but in a decent 
 lodging. And you shall see her, and console her, and 
 all Avill be right." 
 
 " Yes, I will see her," said Agellius, in a sort of 
 musing manner ; " she is either a Christian, or she is 
 not. If she is a Christian. . ." and his voice fal- 
 tered ; " but if she is not, she shall live till she is." 
 
 "Well said!" answered Jucundus, "till she is. 
 She shall live till she is. Yes, I can get you to see 
 her. You shall bring her out of prison ; a smile, a 
 whisper from you, and all her fretfulness and ill- 
 humour will vanish, like a mist before the powerful 
 burning sun. And we shall all be as happy as the 
 immortal gods." 
 
 " O my uncle," said Agellius gravely. The lan- 
 guage of Jucundus had shocked him, and brought him 
 to a better mind. He turned away from Jucundus, 
 and leant his face against the wall. Then he turned 
 round again, and said, " If she is a Christian, I ought 
 to rejoice, and I do rejoice ; God be praised. If she is 
 not a Christian, I ought at once to make her one. 
 If she has already the penalty of a Christian, she is 
 surely destined for the privilege. And how should I 
 go," he said half speaking to himself, "how should I 
 go to tell her that she is not yefc a Christian, and bid 
 her swear by Jupiter, because that is her god, in order 
 that she may escape imprisonment and death ? Am I 
 to do the part of a heathen priest or infidel sophist ? 
 
 Csecilius, how soon am I forgetting your lessons ! 
 No ; I will go on no such errand. Go I will, if I may, 
 Jucundus ; but I will go on no conditions of yours. 
 
 1 go on no promise to try to get her out of prison any 
 how, poor child. I will not go to make her sacrifice 
 to a false god ; I go to persuade her to stay in prison, 
 by deserving to stay. Perhaps I am not the best 
 person to go ; but if I go, I go free. I go willing to 
 (lie myself for my Lord; glad to make her die for 
 Him." 
 
A SKETCH Oi^ THE THIIID CENTURY. 199 
 
 Agellius said this in so determined a way, so calmly, 
 with such a grasp of the existing posture of affairs, 
 and of the whole circumstances of the case, that it was 
 now Jucundus's turn to feel surprise and annoyance. 
 Eor a time he did not take in what Agellius meant, 
 nor could he to the last follow his train of feeling. 
 AVhen he saw what may be called the upshot of the 
 matter, lie becam.e very angry, and spoke with great 
 violence. By degrees he calmed ; and then the strong 
 feeling came on him again that it was impossible, if a 
 meeting took place between the two, that it could end 
 in any way but one. He defied any two young peo- 
 ple, who loved each other, to come to any but one 
 conclusion. Agellius' s mood was too excited, too 
 tragic to last. The sight of Callista in that dreadful 
 prison, perhaps in chains, waiting, in order to be free, 
 for ability to say the words, " I am not a Christian ;" 
 and tliat ability waiting for the same words from him- 
 self, would bring the affair to a very speedy issue. As 
 if he could love a fancy better than he loved Callista ! 
 Agellius too had already expressed a misgiving him- 
 self on that head ; so far they were agreed. And, to 
 tell the truth, it was a very delicate transaction for 
 a young man ; and giving our poor Agellius all credit 
 for pure intention and firm resolve, we really should 
 have been very sorry to see him involved in a trial, 
 which would have demanded of him a most heroic 
 faith and the detachment of a saint. AVe, therefore, are 
 not sorry that in matter of fact he gained the merit 
 of so virtuous a determination, without being called 
 on to execute it. Eor it so happened, that a most 
 unexpected event occurred to him not many hours 
 afterwards, which will oblige us to take up here rather 
 abruptly the history of one of our other personages. 
 
200 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 In the bosom of tlie woods which stretched for many 
 miles from the immediate environs of Sicca, and placed 
 on a gravel slope which reached down to a brook, 
 which ran in a bottom close by, was a small, rude hut, 
 of a kind peculiar to Africa, and commonly ascribed 
 to the wandering tribes, who neither cared, nor had 
 leisure, for a more stable habitation. Some might 
 have called it a tent, from the goat's-hair cloth with 
 which it was covered ; but it looked, as to shape, like 
 nothing else than an inverted boat, or the roof of a 
 house set upon the ground. Inside it was seen to be 
 constructed of the branches of trees, twisted together 
 or wattled, the interstices, or rather tlie whole sur- 
 face, being covered with clay. Being thus stoutly 
 built, lined, and covered, it was proof against the 
 tremendous rains, to which the climate, for which it 
 was made, was subject. Along the centre ridge or 
 backbone, which varied in height from six to ten feet 
 from the ground, it was supported by three posts or 
 pillars ; at one end it rose conically to an open aper- 
 ture, which served for chimney, for window, and for 
 the purposes of ventilation. Hooks were suspended 
 from the roof for baskets, articles of clothing, wea- 
 pons, and implements of various kinds ; and a second 
 cone, excavated in the ground with the vertex down- 
 ward, served as a storehouse for grain. The door 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTTJET. 201 
 
 was so low, that an ordinary person must bend double 
 to pass tbrougli it. 
 
 However, it was in the winter months only, when 
 the rains were profuse, that the owner of this respect- 
 able mansion condescended to creep into it. In sum- 
 mer she had a drawing-room, as it may be called, of 
 nature's own creation, in which she lived, and in one 
 quarter of which she had her lair. Close above the 
 hut was a high plot of level turf, surrounded by old 
 oalis, and fringed beneath with thick underwood. In 
 the centre of this green rose a yew tree of primeval 
 character. Indeed, the whole forest spoke of the very 
 beginnings of the world, as if it had been the imme- 
 diate creation of that Voice whicli bade the earth clothe 
 itself with green life. But the place no longer spoke 
 exclusively of its Maker. Upon the trees hung the 
 emblems and objects of idolatry, and the turf was 
 traced with magical characters. Littered about were 
 human bones, horns of wild animals, wax figures, 
 spermaceti taken from vaults, large nails, to which 
 portions of flesh adhered, as if they had had to do 
 with malefactors, metal plates engraved with strange 
 characters, bottled blood, hair of young persons, and 
 old rags. The reader must not suppose any incan- 
 tation is about to follow, or that the place we are 
 describing will have a prominent place in what re- 
 mains of .our tale; but even if it be the scene of only 
 one conversation, and one event, there is no harm in 
 describing it, as it appeared on that occasion. 
 
 The old crone, who was seated in this bower of 
 delight, had an expression of countenance in keeping, 
 not with the place, but with the furniture with which 
 it was adorned : that furniture told her trade. Whether 
 the root of superstition might be traced deeper still, 
 and the woman and her traps were really and directly 
 connected with the powers beneath the earth, it is 
 impossible to determine : it is certain she had the will, 
 it is certain that that will was from their inspiration j 
 
202 CALLISTA ; 
 
 nay, it is certain that she thought she really possessed 
 the conimuiiications which she desired; it is certain, 
 too, she so far deceived herself as to fancy that what 
 she learned by mere natural means came to lier from 
 a diabolical source. She kept up an active corre- 
 spondence with Sicca. She was consulted by numbers : 
 she was up with the public news, the social gossip, and 
 the private and secret transactions of the hour ; and 
 had, before now, even interfered in matters of state, 
 and had been courted by rival political parties. But 
 in the high cares and occupations of this interesting 
 person, we are not heie concerned; but with a con- 
 versation which took place between her and Juba, 
 about the same hour of the evening as that of Csecilius's 
 escape, but on the day after it, while the sun was 
 gleaming almost horizontally through the tall trunks 
 of the trees of the forest. 
 
 " Well, my precious boy," said the old woman, "the 
 choicest gifts of great Cham be your portion ! You 
 had excellent sport yesterday, I'll warrant. The rats 
 squeaked, eh? and you beat the life out of .them. 
 That scoundrel sacristan, I suppose, has taken up his 
 quarters below." 
 
 "You may say it," answered Juba. " The reptile! 
 he turned riglit about, and would have made him- 
 self an honest fellow, when it couldn't be helped." 
 
 " Grood, good!" returned Gurta, as if she had got 
 something very pleasant in her mouth ; " ah ! that is 
 good ! but he did not escape on that score, I do trust." 
 
 " They pulled him to pieces all the more cheerfully," 
 said Juba. 
 
 " Pulled him to pieces, limb by limb, joint by joint, 
 eh?" answered Gurta. "Did they skin him? — did 
 they do any thing to his eyes, or his tongue ? Any 
 how, it was too quickly, Juba. Slowly, leisurely, 
 gradually. Yes, it's like a glutton to be quick about 
 it. Taste him, handle him, play with him, — that's 
 luxury ! but to bolt him,— faugh !" 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEKTITRY. 203 
 
 "Caeso's slave made a good end," said Juba: "lie 
 stood up for his views, and died like a man." 
 
 "The gods smite him ! but he has gone up,— up :" 
 and she laughed. " Up to what they call bliss and 
 glory; — such glory! but he's out of their domain, 
 you know. But he did not die easy ?" 
 
 " The boys worried him a good deal," answered 
 Juba : " but it's not quite in ray line, mother, all this. 
 I think you drink a pint of blood morning and evening, 
 and thrive on it, old woman. It makes you merry ; 
 but it's too much for my stomach." 
 
 " Ha, ha, my boy!" cried Gurta ; "you'll improve 
 in time, though you make wry faces, now that you're 
 young.^ Well, and have you brought me any news 
 from the capitol ? Is any one getting a rise in the 
 world, or a downfall? How blows the wind? Are 
 there changes in the camp ? This Decius, I suspect, 
 will not last long." 
 
 "They all seem desperately frightened," said Juba, 
 "lest they should not smite your friends hard enough, 
 Gurta. Eoot and branch is the word. They'll have 
 to make a few Christians for the occasion, in order to 
 kill them : and I almost think they're about it," he 
 added, thoughtfully. " They have to show that they 
 are not surpassed by the rabble. 'Tis a pity Christians 
 are so few, isn't it, mother ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," she said; "but we must crush them, 
 grind them, many or few^ : and we shall, we shall ! 
 Callista's to come." 
 
 " I don't see they are worse than other people," 
 said Juba ; " not at all, except that they are com- 
 monly sneaks. If Callista turns, why should not I 
 turn too, mother, to keep her companv, and keep your 
 hand in?" 
 
 " No, no, my boy," returned the witch, "you must 
 serve mij master. Tou are having your fling just now, 
 but you will buckle to in good time. Tou must one 
 day take some work with my merry men. Come here, 
 child," said the fond mother, "and let me kiss you." 
 
204 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 "Keep your kisses for your monkeys, and goats, 
 and cats," answered Juba : " they're not to my taste, 
 old dame. Master ! my master ! I won't have a 
 master! I'll be nobody's servant. I'll never stand 
 to be hired, nor cringe to a bully^ nor quake before a 
 rod. Please yourself, Gurta ; I'm a free man. You're 
 my mother by courtesy only." 
 
 Gurta looked at him savagely. " Why you're not 
 going to be pious and virtuous, Juba? A choice 
 saint you'll make ! You shall be drawn for a picture." 
 
 " Why shouldn't I, if I choose ?" said Juba. " If 
 I must take service, willy, nilly, I'd any day prefer tlie 
 other's to that of your friend. I've not left the 
 master to take the man." 
 
 " Blaspheme not the great gods," she answered, 
 "or they'll do you a mischief yet." 
 
 " I say again," insisted Juba, " if I must lick the 
 earth, it shall not be where your friend has trod. It 
 shall be in my brother's fashion, rather than in yours, 
 Gurta." 
 
 "Agellius!" she shrieked out with such disgust, 
 that it is wonderful she uttered the name at all. 
 " Ah ! you have not told me about him, boy. Well, 
 is he safe in the pit, or in the stomach of an hyena ?" 
 
 "He's alive," said Juba; "but he has not got it 
 in him to be a Christian. Yes, he's safe with his 
 uncle." 
 
 "Ah! Jucundus must ruin him, debauch him, and 
 then we must make away with him. We must not 
 be in a hurry," said Gurta, "it must be body and 
 soul." 
 
 "No one shall touch him, craven as he is," answered 
 Juba. " I despise him, but let him alone." 
 
 "Don't come across me," said Gurta, sullenly; 
 " I'll have my way. Why, you know I could smite 
 you to the dust, as well as him, if I chose." 
 
 " But you have not asked me about Callista," an- 
 swered Juba. " It is really a capital joke, but she has 
 got into prison for certain, for being a Christian. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 205 
 
 Pancy it ! they caught her in the streets, and put her in 
 the guard-house, and liave had her up for examination. 
 You see they want a Christian for the nonce : it would 
 not do to have none such in prison ; so they will flourish 
 with her till Decius bolts from the scene. 
 
 "The furies have her!" cried Gurta : "she is a 
 Christian, my boy : I told you so, long ago." 
 
 " Callista a Christian!" answered Juba, "ha! ha! 
 She and Agellius are going to make a match of it, of 
 some sort or other. They're thinking of other things 
 than paradise." 
 
 " She and the old priest, more likely, more likely," 
 said Gurta. "He's in prison with her,— in the pit, 
 as I trust." 
 
 " Tour master has cheated you for once, old wo- 
 man," said Juba. 
 
 Gurta looked at him fiercely, and seemed waiting 
 for his explanation. He began singing : — 
 
 *' She wheedled and coaxed, but he was no fool; 
 He'd be his own master, he'd not be her tool ; 
 Not the little black moor should send him to school. 
 
 " She foamed and she cursed, — 'twas the same thing to him ; 
 She laid well her trap ; but he carried his whim : — 
 The priest scuffled off, safe in life and in limb." 
 
 Gurta was almost sufibcated with passion. " Cy- 
 prianus has not escaped, boy ?" she asked at length. 
 
 " I got him off," said Juba, undauntedly. 
 
 A shade, as of Erebus, passed over the witch's face ; 
 but she remained quite silent. 
 
 "Mother, I am my own master," he continued. 
 " I must break your assumption of superiority. I'm 
 not a boy, though you call me so. I'll have my own 
 way. Yes, I saved Cyprianus. You're a blood- 
 thirsty old hag! Yes, i't-e seen your secret doings. 
 Did not I catch you the other day, practising on that 
 little child? You had nailed him up by hands and 
 feet against the tree, and were cutting hira to pieces 
 at your leisure, as he quivered and shrieked the while. 
 
206 CALLISTA ; 
 
 You were examining or using his liver for some of your 
 black purposes. It's not in my line ; but you gloated 
 over it ; and when he wailed, you wailed in mimicry. 
 You were panting with pleasure." 
 
 G-urta was still silent, and had an expression on her 
 face, awful from the intensity of its malignity. She 
 had uttered a low piercing R'histle. 
 
 " Yes !" continued Juba, " you revelled in it. You 
 chattered to the poor babe, when it screamed, as a 
 nurse to an infant. You called it pretty names, and 
 squeaked out your satisfaction each time you stuck it. 
 You old hag! I'm not of your breed, though they 
 say I am of your blood. J don't fear you," he said, 
 observing the expression of her countenance, " I don't 
 fear the immortal devil!" And he continued his 
 song : — 
 
 " She beckoned the moon, and the moon came down ; 
 The green earth shrivelled beneath her frown ; 
 But a man's strong will can keep his own." 
 
 AA^hile he was talking and singing, her call had 
 been answered from the hut. An animal of some 
 wonderful species had crept out of it, and proceeded 
 to creep and crawl, moeing and twisting as it went, 
 along the trees and shrubs which rounded the grass 
 plot. AVhen it came up to the old woman, it crouched 
 at her feet, and then rose up upon its hind legs and 
 begged. She took hold of the uncouth beast and 
 began to fondle it in her arms, muttering something iu 
 its ear. At length, when Juba stopped for a moment 
 in his song, she suddenly flung it right at him, with 
 great force, saying, "Take that!" She then gave 
 utterance to a low inward laugh, and leaned herself 
 back against the trunk of tlie tree under which she 
 was sitting, with her knees drawn up almost to her 
 chin. 
 
 The blow seemed to act on Juba as a shock on his 
 nervous system, botli from its violence and its strange- 
 ness. He stood still for a moment, and then, without 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CEKTUET. 207 
 
 saying a word, he turned away, and walked slowly 
 down the hill, as if in a maze. Then he sat down. . . . 
 
 In an instant up he started again with a great cry, 
 and began running at the top of his speed. He 
 thought he heard a voice speaking in him ; and, how- 
 ever last he ran, the voice, or whatever it was, kept up 
 with hira. He rushed through the underwood, tram- 
 pling and crushing it under his feet, and scaring the 
 birds and small game which lodged there. At last, 
 exhausted, he stood still for breatli, when he heard it 
 say loudly and deeply, as if speaking with his own 
 organs, "You cannot escape from yourself!" Then 
 a terror seized him ; he fell down and fainted away. 
 
 When his senses returned, his first impression 
 was of something in him not himself. He felt it in 
 his breathing; he tasted it in his mouth. The brook 
 which ran by Gurta's encampment had by this time 
 become a streamlet, though still shallow. He plunged 
 into it ; a feeling came upon him as if he ought to 
 drown himself, had it been deeper. He rolled about 
 in it, in spite of its flinty and rocky bed. AVhen he 
 came out of it, his tunic sticking to him, he tore it off 
 his shoulders, and let it hang round his girdle in 
 shreds, as it might. The shock of the water, however, 
 acted as a sedative upon him, and the coolness of the 
 night refreshed him. He walked on for a while in 
 silence. 
 
 Suddenly the power within him began uttering, by 
 means of his organs of speech, the most fearful blas- 
 phemies, words embodying conceptions which, had they 
 come into his mind, he might indeed have borne with 
 patience before this, or uttered in bravado, but which 
 now filled him with inexpressible loathing, and a 
 terror to which he had hitherto been quite a stranger. 
 He had always in his heart believed in a God, but he 
 jiow belie\'ed with a reality and intensity utterly new 
 to him. He felt it as if he saw Hira; he felt there 
 was a world of good and evil beings. He did not love 
 the good, or hate the evil ; but he shrank from the 
 
208 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 one, and he was terrified at the other; and he felt 
 himself carried a^Yay, against his will, as the prey of 
 some dreadful, mysterious power, which tyrannized 
 over him. 
 
 The day had closed — the moon had risen. He 
 plunged into the thickest wood, and the trees seemed 
 to him to make way for him. Still they seemed to 
 moan and to creak as they moved out of their place. 
 Soon he began to see that they were looking at him, 
 and exulting over his misery. They, of an inferior 
 nature, had had no gift to abuse and lose ; and they 
 remained in that honour and perfection in which they 
 were created. Birds of the night flew out of them, 
 reptiles slunk aAvay ; yet soon he began to be sur- 
 rounded, wherever he went, by a circle of owls, bats, 
 ravens, crows, snakes, wild cats, and apes, which were 
 always looking at him, but somehow made way, retreat- 
 ing before him, and yet forming again, and in order, 
 as he marched along. 
 
 He had passed through the wing of the forest which 
 he entered, and penetrated into the more mountainous 
 country. He ascended the heights ; he was a taller, 
 stronger man than he had been; he went forward with 
 a preternatural vigour, and flourished his arms with 
 the excitement of some vinous or gaseous intoxication. 
 He heard the roar of the wild beasts echoed along the 
 woody ravines which were cut into the solid mountain 
 rock, with a reckless feeling, as if he could cope with 
 them. As he passed the dens of the lion, leopard, hyena, 
 jackal, wild boar, and wolf, there he saw them sitting 
 at the entrance, or stopping suddenly as they prowled 
 along, and eyeing him, but not daring to approach. 
 He strode along from rock to rock, and over precipices, 
 with the certainty and ease of some giant in Eastern 
 fable. Suddenly a beast of prey came across him ; in 
 a moment he had torn up by the roots the stump of a 
 wild vine plant, which was near him, had thrown 
 himself upon his foe before it could act on the aggres- 
 fiive, had flung it upon its back, forced the weapon 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUEY. 209 
 
 into its mouth, and was stamping on its chest. He 
 knocked the life out of the furious animal ; and crying 
 " Take that " tore its flesh, and, applying his mouth to 
 the wound, sucked a draught of its blood. 
 
 He has passed over the mountain, and has descended 
 its side. Bristling shrubs, swamps, precipitous banks, 
 rushing torrents, are no obstacle to his course. He 
 has reached the brow of a hill, with a deep placid 
 river at the foot of it, just as the dawn begins to break. 
 It is a lovely prospect, which every step he takes is 
 becoming more definite and more various in the day- 
 light. Masses of oliander, of great beauty, with their 
 red blossoms, fringed the river, and tracked out its 
 course into the distance. The bank of the hill below 
 him, and on the right and left, was a maze of fruit 
 trees, about which nature, if it were not the hand of 
 man, had had no thought except that they should be 
 all together there. The wild olive, the pomegranate, 
 the citron, the date, the mulberry, the peach, the apple, 
 and the walnut, formed a sort of spontaneous orchard. 
 Across the water groves of palm trees waved their long 
 and graceful branches in the morning breeze. The 
 stately and solemn ilex, marshalled into long avenues, 
 showed the way to substantial granges or luxurious 
 villas. The green turf or grass was spread out be- 
 neath, and here and there flocks and herds were 
 emerging out of the twilight and growing distinct 
 upon the eye. Elsewhere the ground rose up into 
 sudden eminences crowned with' chesnut woods, or 
 with plantations of cedar and acacia, or wildernesses of 
 the cork tree, the turpentine, the carooba, the white 
 poplar, and the Phenician juniper, while over head 
 ascended the clinging tendrils of the hop, and an 
 underwood of myrtle clothed their stems and roots. A 
 profusion of wild flowers carpeted the ground far and 
 near. 
 
 Juba stood and gazed till the sun rose opposite to 
 him, envying, repining, hating, like Satan looking in 
 upon Paradise. The wild mountains, or the locust- 
 
 P 
 
210 CALLISTA ; 
 
 smitten tract would have better suited tlie tumult of 
 his mind. It would have been a relief to him to have 
 retreated from so fair a scene, and to have retraced 
 his steps, but he was not his own master, and was 
 hurried on. Sorely against his determined strong 
 resolve and will, crying out and protesting and shud- 
 dering, the youth was forced along into the fulness of 
 beauty and blessing with which he was so little in 
 tune. With rage and terror he recognized that he 
 had no part in his own movements, but was a mere 
 slave. In spite of himself he must go forward and 
 behold a peace and sweetness which witnessed 
 against him. He dashed down through the thick 
 grass, plunged into the water, and without rest or 
 respite began a second course of aimless toil and 
 travail through the day. 
 
 The savage dogs of the villages howled and fled 
 from him as he passed by ; beasts of burden, on their 
 way to market, which he overtook or met, stood still, 
 foamed and trembled ; the bright birds, the blue jay 
 and golden oriole, hid themselves under the leaves and 
 grass ; the storks, a religious and domestic bird, 
 stopped their sharp clattering note from the high tree 
 or farmhouse turret, where they had placed their 
 nests ; the very reptiles skulked away from his shadow, 
 as if it were poisonous. The boors who were at their 
 labour in the fields suspended it to look at one whom 
 the Furies were lashing and whirling on. Hour passed 
 after liour, the sun attained its zenith, and then declined, 
 but this dreadful compulsory race continued. O what 
 would he have given for one five minutes of oblivion, 
 of slumber, of relief from the burning thirst which 
 now consumed him ! but the master within him ruled 
 his muscles and his joints, and the intense pain of 
 weariness had no concomitant of prostration of 
 strength. Suddenly he began to laugh hideously ; 
 and he went forward dancins: and sin^ins: loud, and 
 playing antics. He entered a hovel, made faces at the 
 children, till one of them fell into convulsions, and he 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 211 
 
 ran away with anotber; and, when some country 
 people pursued him, he flung the chikl in their faces, 
 saying, " Take that," and said he was Pentheus, Kin^ 
 of Thebes, of whom he had never heard, about to so- 
 lemnize the orgies of Bacchus, and he began to spout 
 a chorus of Grreek, a language he had never learnt or 
 heard spoken. 
 
 Now it is evening again, and he has come up to a 
 village grove, where the rustics were holding a feast in 
 honour of Pan. The hideous brutal god, with yawning 
 mouth, horned head, and goat's feet, was placed in a 
 rude shed, and a slaughtered lamb, decked with flowers, 
 lay at his feet. The peasants were frisking before 
 him, boys and women, when they were startled by the 
 sight of a gaunt, wild, mysterious figure, which began 
 to dance too. He flung and capered about with such 
 vigour that they ceased their sport to look on, half 
 with awe and half as a diversion. Suddenly he began 
 to groan and to shriek, as if contending with himself, 
 and willing and not wilhng some new act; and the 
 struggle ended in his falling on his hands and knees, 
 and crawling like a quadruped towards the idol. AVhen 
 he got near, his attitude was still more servile ; still 
 groaning and shuddering, he laid himself flat on the 
 ground, and wriggled to the idol as a worm, and 
 lapped up with his tongue the mingled blood and dust 
 which lay about the sacrifice. And then again, as if 
 nature had successfully asserted her own dignity, he 
 jumped up high in the air, and, falling on the god, 
 broke him to pieces, and scampered away out of pur- 
 suit, before the lookers-on recovered from the surprise. 
 
 Another restless, fearful night amid the open coun- 
 try ; . . . but it seemed as if the worst had passed, and, 
 though still under the heavy chastisement of his pride, 
 there was more in Juba of human action and of 
 eflectual will. The day broke and he found himself 
 on the road to Sicca. The beautiful outline of the 
 city v.-as riglit before him. He passed his brother's 
 cottage and garden ; it was a wreck. The trees torn 
 p2 
 
212 CALLISTA ; 
 
 up, the fences broken down, and tlie room pillaged of 
 the little that could be found there. He went on to 
 the city, crying out Agellius ; the gate was open, and 
 he entered. He went on to the Forum ; he crossed to 
 the house of Jucundus ; few people as yet were stirring 
 in the place. He looked up at the wall. Suddenly, 
 by the help of projections and other irregularities of 
 the brick-work, he mounted up upon the flat roof, and 
 dropped down, along the tiles, through the impluvium 
 into the middle of the house. He went softly into 
 Agellius's closet, where he was asleep, he roused him 
 with the name of Cailista, threw his tunic upon him, 
 which was by his side, put his boots into his hands, and 
 silently beckoned him to follow him. When he hesi- 
 tated, he still whispered to him Cailista, and at length 
 seized him and led him on. He unbarred the street 
 door, and with a movement of his arm, more lilve a 
 blow than a farewell, thrust him into the street. 
 Then he barred again the door upon him, and lay 
 down himself upon the bed which Agellius had left. 
 His good angel, we may suppose, had gained a point 
 in his favour, for he lay quiet and fell into a heavy 
 sleep. 
 
A SKETCH OI' THE THIED CENTUEX. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "We are in hopes the reader, as well as Agellius, is 
 attracted by the word Callista, and wishes to know 
 something about her fate ; nay, perhaps finds fault 
 with us as having suffered him so long to content 
 himself with the chance and secondhand information 
 which Jucundus or Juba has supplied. If we have 
 been wanting in due consideration for him, we now 
 trust to make up for it. 
 
 When Callista then had so boldly left the cottage to 
 stop the intruders, she had in one important point 
 reckoned without her host. She spoke Latin fluently 
 herself, and could converse with the townspeople, 
 most of whom could do the same ; but it was other- 
 wise with the inhabitants of the country, numbers of 
 whom, as we have said, were in Sicca on the day of the 
 outbreak. The two fellows, whom she went out to with- 
 stand, knew neither her nor the Latin tongue. They 
 were of a race which called itself Canaanite, and really 
 was so ; huge, gigantic men, who looked like the sons 
 of Euac, described in Holy AVrit. They knew no- 
 thing of roads or fences, and had scrambled up the 
 hill Jis they could, the shortest way, and, being free 
 from the crowd, with far more expedition than had 
 they followed the beaten track. She and they could 
 not understand each other's speech ; but her appear- 
 ance spoke for her, and in consequence they seized on 
 her, as their share of the booty, and without more ado, 
 
214 CALLISTA ; 
 
 carried her off toTvards Sicca. As they came up by 
 their own route, so they returned, and entered the 
 city by a gate more to the south, not the Septimian; 
 a happy circumstance, as otherwise she would have 
 stood every chance of being destroyed in that whole- 
 sale massacre which the soldiery inflicted on the crowd 
 as it returned. 
 
 These giants then got possession of Callista, and she 
 entered Sicca upon the shoulder of one of them, who 
 danced in with no greater inconvenience than if he 
 was carrying on it a basket of flowers, or a box of milli- 
 nery. Here the party met with the city police who 
 were stationed at the gate. 
 
 " Down with your live luggage, you rascals," they 
 said, in their harsh Punic ; " what have you to do with 
 plunder of this kind ? and how came you by her ? " 
 
 " She's one of those Christian rats, your worship," 
 answered the fellow, who, strong as he was, did not 
 relish a contest Mith some dozen of armed men. 
 " Long live the Emperor ! AVe'll teach her to eat 
 asses' heads another time, and brew fevers. I found 
 her with a party of Christians She's nothing but a 
 witch, and she knows the consequences." 
 
 " Let her go, you drunken animal," said the con- 
 stable, still keeping his distance. " I'll never beheve 
 any woman is a Christian, let alone so young a one. 
 And now I look at her, as far as I can see by this 
 light, I think she's priestess of one of the great 
 temples up there." 
 
 " She can turn herself into any thing," said the other 
 of her capturers, " young or old. I saw her one night 
 near Madaura, a month ago, in the tombs, in the shape 
 of a black cat." 
 
 " Away with you both, in the name of the Suffetes of 
 Sicca, and all the magistracy," cried the official. " Grive 
 up your prisoner to the authorities of the place, and 
 let the law take its course." 
 
 But the Canaanites did not seem disposed to give 
 her up, and, neither party liking to attack the other, 
 
A -SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUET. 215 
 
 a compromise took place. " "Well," said the guardian 
 of the night, " the law must be vindicated, and the 
 peace preserved. My friends, you must submit to 
 the magistrates. But, since she happens to be on 
 your shoulder, my man, let her even remain there, and 
 we depute you, as a beast of burden, to carry her for 
 us, thereby to save us the trouble. Here, child," he 
 continued, " you're our prisoner ; so you shall plead 
 your own cause in the 'poj)ina there. Long live Decius, 
 pious and fortunate ! Long live this ancient city, 
 colony and municipium ! Cheer up, my lass, and 
 siug us a stave or two, as we go ; for I'll pledge a 
 cyatlius of unmixed, that, if yon choose, you can warble 
 notes as sweet as the manna gum." 
 
 Callista was silent, but she was perfectly collected, 
 and ready to avail herself of any opportunity to better 
 her condition. They went on towards the Forum, 
 where a police-office, as we now speak, was situated, 
 but did not reach it without an adventure. The 
 Eoman military force at Sicca was not more than a 
 century of men ; the greater number were at this mo- 
 ment at the great gate, waiting for the mob ; a few, 
 in parties of three and four, were patrolling the city. 
 Several of these were at the entrauce of the Forum 
 when the party came up to it ; and it happened that a 
 superior officer, who was an assistant to what may be 
 called the military resident of the place, a young man 
 on whom much of the duty of the day had devolved, 
 was with the soldiers. She had known him as a friend 
 of her brother's, and recognized him in the gloom, and 
 at ©nee took advantage of the meeting. 
 
 "Help," she said, "gentlemen! help, Calphurnius! 
 these rascals are carrying me off to some den of their 
 own." 
 
 The tribune at once knew her voice. "What," he 
 cried, with great astonishment, "what, my pretty 
 Greek! You most base, infamous, and unmannerly 
 scoundrels, down with her this instant. What have 
 you to do with that young lady ? Tou villains, unless 
 
216 CALLISTA; 
 
 you would have me crack jour African skulls witli the 
 hilt of my sword, down with her, I say." 
 
 There was no resisting a Eoman voice, but prompt 
 obedience is a rarity, and the ruffians began to parley. 
 "My noble master," said the constable, "she's our 
 prisoner. Jove preserve you, and Bacchus and Ceres 
 bless you, my lord tribune ! and long life to the Em- 
 peror Decius in these bad times. But she is a rioter, 
 my lord, one of the ringleaders, and a Christian and a 
 witch to boot." 
 
 " Cease your vile gutturals, you animal," cried the 
 officer, " or I will ram them down your throat with my 
 pike to digest them. Put down the lady, beast. Are 
 you thinking twice about it ? G-o, Lucius," he said 
 to a private, " kick him away, and bring the woman 
 here." 
 
 Callista was surrendered ; but the fellow, sullen at 
 the usage he had met with, and spiteful against Cal- 
 phurnius, as the cause of it, cried out maliciously, 
 " Mind what you are at, noble sir, it's not our affair ; 
 you can fry your own garlic. But an Emperor is an 
 Emperor, and an Edict is an Edict, and a Christian is 
 a Christian ; and I don't know what high places will 
 say to it, but it's your affair. Take notice," he con- 
 tinued, raising his voice still higher, as he got to a 
 safer distance, that the soldiers might hear, " yon girl 
 is a Christian priestess, caught in a Christian assem- 
 bly sacrificing asses and eating children for the over- 
 throw of the Emperor, and the ruin of his loyal city 
 of Sicca, and I have been interrupted in the discharge 
 of my duty — I, a constable of the place. See whether 
 Calphurnius will not bring again upon us the plague, 
 the murrain, the locusts, and all manner of larvcd and 
 manicB before the end of the story." 
 
 This speech perplexed Calphurnius, as it was in- 
 tended. It was impossible he could dispose of Callista 
 as he wished, with such a charge formally uttered in 
 the presence of his men. He knew how serious the 
 question of Christianity was at that moment, and how 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 217 
 
 determined the Imperial Government was on the 
 eradication of its professors ; he was a good soldier, 
 devoted to head-quarters, and had no wish to compro- 
 mise himself with his superiors, or to give bystanders 
 an advantage over him, by setting a prisoner at liberty 
 without inquiry, who had been taken in a Christian's 
 house. He muttered an oath, and said to the sol- 
 diers, " Well, my lads, to the Triumviri with her, 
 since it must be so. Cheer up, my star of the morn- 
 ing, bright beam of Hellas, it is only as a matter of 
 form, and you will be set at liberty as soon as they 
 look on you." And with these words he led the way 
 to the Officium. 
 
 But the presiding genius of the Officium was less 
 accommodating than he had anticipated. It might be 
 he was jealous of the soldiery, or of their particular 
 interference, or indignant at the butchery at the great 
 gate, of which the news had just come, or out of 
 humour with the day, and especially with the Chris- 
 tians ; at any rate, Calphurnius found he had better 
 have taken a bolder step, and have carried her as a 
 prisoner to the camp. However, nothing was now left 
 for him but to depart ; and Callista fell again into the 
 hands of the city, though of the superior functionaries, 
 who procured her a lodging for the night, and settled 
 to bring her up for examination next morning. 
 
 The morning came, and she was had up. "What 
 passed did not transpire ; but the issue was that she 
 was remanded for a further hearing, and was told she 
 might send to her brother and acquaint him where she 
 was. He was allowed one interview with her, and he 
 came away, almost out of his senses, saying she was 
 bewitched, and fancied herself a Christian. What 
 precisely she had said to him, which gave this impres- 
 sion, he could hardly say ; but it was plain there must 
 be something wrong, or there would not be that 
 public process and formal examination which was 
 fixed for the third day afterwards. 
 
218 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTEE XXY. 
 
 "Weee the origin of Juba's madness (or whatever the 
 world would call it) of a character which admitted of 
 light writing about it, much might be said on the 
 surprise of the clear-headed, narrow-minded, positive, 
 and easy-going Jucundus, when he found one nephew 
 substituted for another, and had to give over his 
 wonder at Agellius, in order to commence a series of 
 acts of amazement and consternation at Juba. He 
 summoned Jupiter and Juno, Bacchus, Ceres, Po- 
 mona, Neptune, Mercury, Minerva, and great E-ome, 
 to witness the marvellous occurrence ; and then he 
 had recourse to the infernal gods, Pluto and Proser- 
 pine, down to Cerberus, if he be one of them ; but 
 after all, there the portent was, in spite of all the 
 deities which Olympus, or Arcadia, or Latium ever 
 bred : and at length it had a nervous effect upon the old 
 gentleman's system, and, for the first evening after it, 
 he put all his good things from him, and went to bed 
 supperless and songless. 
 
 What had been Juba's motive in the exploit which 
 so unpleasantly affected his uncle, it is of course quite 
 impossible to say. Whether his mention of Callista's 
 name was intended to be for the benefit of her soul, 
 or the ruin of Agellius's, must be left in the obscurity 
 in which the above narrative presents it to us ; so far 
 alone is certain, though it does not seem to throw 
 light on the question, that, on his leaving his uncle's 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 219 
 
 house in the course of the forenoon, which he did, 
 without being pressed to stay, he was discovered 
 prancing and gesticulating in the neighbourhood of 
 Callista's prison, so as to excite the attention of the 
 apparitor, or constable, who guarded the entrance, and 
 who, alarmed at his wildness, sent for some of his 
 fellows, and, with their assistance, repelled the in- 
 truder, who thereupon scudding out at the eastern 
 gate, was soon lost in the passes of the mountain. 
 
 To one thing, however, we may pledge ourselves, 
 that Juba had no intention of shaking, even for one 
 evening, the nerves of Jucundus ; yet shaken they were 
 till about the same time twenty-four hours afterwards. 
 And when in that depressed state, he saw nothing 
 but misery on all sides of him. Juba was lost ; 
 Agellius worse. Of course he had joined himself to 
 his sect, and he should never see him again; and 
 how should he ever hold up his head ? Well ! he 
 only hoped Agellius would not be boiled in a caldron, 
 or roasted at a slow fire. If this were done, he posi- 
 tively must leave Sicca, and the most thriving trade 
 which any man had in the whole of the Proconsulate. 
 And then that little Callista! Ah! — what a real 
 calamity was there ! Any how he had lost her, and 
 what should he do for a finisher of his fine work in 
 marble, or metal ? She was a treasure in herself. 
 Altogether the heavens were very dark ; and it was 
 scarcely possible for any one who knew well his jovial 
 cast of countenance, to keep from laughing, whatever 
 his real sympathy, at the unusual length and blankness 
 which was suddenly imposed upon it. 
 
 While he sat thus at his shop window, which, as it 
 were, framed him for the contemplation of passers-by, 
 on the day of the escape of Agellius, and the day 
 before Callista's public examination, Aristo rushed in 
 upon him in a state of far more passionate, and more 
 reasonable grief. He had called, indeed, the day 
 before, but he found a pleasure in expending his 
 distress upon others, and he came to get rid of its insup- 
 portable weight by discharging it in a torrent of tears 
 
220 CALLISTA ; 
 
 and exclamations. However, at first the words of both 
 "moved slow," as the poet says, and went oft' in a 
 sort of dropping fire. . 
 
 " Well," said Jucundus, in a depressed tone ; " he's 
 not come to you^ of course ?" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Agellius." 
 
 "O! Agellius! No, he's not with me." Then, 
 after a pause, Aristo added, " Why should he be ?" 
 
 " O ! I don't know. I thought he might be. He's 
 been gone since early niorning." 
 
 "Indeed! No, I don't know where he is. How 
 came he with you ? " 
 
 "I told you yesterday ; but you have forgotten. 
 I was sheltering him : but he's gone for ever." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "And his brother's mad ! — horribly mad ! " and he 
 slapped his hand against his thigh. 
 
 "I always thought it," answered Aristo. 
 
 " Did you ? Yes, so it is ... . but it's very dif- 
 ferent from what it ever was. The furies have got 
 hold of him with a vengeance ! He's frantic ! Two 
 boys, both mad ! It's all the father ! " 
 
 " I thought you'd like to hear something about 
 dear, sweet Callista," said her brother. 
 
 " Yes, I should indeed !" answered Jucundus. "By 
 Esculapius ! they're all mad together !" 
 
 " Well, it is like madness ! " cried Aristo, with great 
 vehemence. 
 
 "The world's going mad!" answered Jucundus, 
 who was picking up, since he began to talk, an exercise 
 which was decidedly good for him. " AVe are all 
 going mad ! I shall get crazed. The townspeople are 
 crazed already. What an abominable, brutal piece of 
 business was that three days ago ! I put up my shut- 
 ters. Did it come near you ? — all on account of one 
 or two beggarly Christians, and my poor boy. What 
 harm could two or three, toads and vipers though they 
 be, do here ? They might have been trodden down 
 easily. It's another thing at Carthage. Catch the 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUET. 221 
 
 ringleaders, I say ; make examples. The foxes escape, 
 and our poor ganders sutler !" 
 
 Aristo, pierced with his own misery, had no heart 
 or head to enter into the semi-political ideas of Ju- 
 cundus, who continued : — 
 
 *' Yes, it's no good. The empire's coming to pieces, 
 mark my words ! I told you so, if those beasts were 
 let alone. They liave been let alone. Eemedies are 
 too late. Decius will do no good. No one's safe! 
 Farewell, my friends ! I am going. Like poor dear 
 Callista, I shall be in prison, and, like her, find myself 
 dumb ! .... Ah ! Callista .... how did you find 
 her?" 
 
 "Oh! — dear, sweet, suffering girl!" cried her 
 brother. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " answered Jucundus ; " yes ! " medi- 
 tatively. " She is a dear, sweet, suffering girl ! I 
 thought he might perhaps have taken her off: — that 
 was my hope. He was so set upon hearing where she 
 was, whether she could be got out. It struck me he 
 had made the best of his way to her. She could 
 do any thing with him. And she loved liim, she did! 
 — I'm convinced of it!— nothing shall convince me 
 otherwise ! ' Bring them together,' I said, ' and they 
 will rush into each other's arms.' But they're be- 
 witched! — The whole world's bewitched! Mark my 
 words, — I have an idea who is at the bottom of this." 
 
 " !" groaned out Aristo ; " I care not for top or 
 bottom ! — I care not for the whole world, or for any 
 thing at all but Callista ! If you could have seen the 
 dear, patient sufferer!" and the poor fellow burst into 
 a flood of tears. 
 
 "Bear up! bear up!" said Jucundus, who by this 
 time was considerably better ; " show yourself a man, 
 my dear Aristo. These things must be ; — they are the 
 lot of human nature. You remember what the tra- 
 gedian says : stay ! no ! — its the comedian, — it's Me- 
 nander . . . 
 
 "To Orcus and Erebus with all the tragedy and 
 
222 CALLISTA ; 
 
 comedy that ever was spouted!" exclaimed Aristo. 
 '' Can you do nothing for me ? Can't you give me a 
 crumb of consolation or sympathv, encouragement or 
 suggestion ? I am a stranger in the country, and so 
 is this dear sister of mine, whom I am so proud of; 
 and who has been so good, and kind, and gentle, and 
 sweet. She loved me so much, she never grudged me 
 any thing : slie let me do just what I would with her. 
 Come here, go there, — it was just as I would. There 
 we were, two orphans together, ten years since, when 
 I was double her age. She wished to stay in Greece ; 
 but she came to this detestable Africa all for mo. 
 She would be gay and bright when I would have her 
 so. She had no will of her own ; and she sat her 
 heart upon nothing ; and was pleased any where. She 
 had not an enemy in the world. I protest she is worth all 
 the gods and goddesses that ever were hatched ! And 
 here, in this ill-omened Africa, the evil eye has looked 
 at her, and she thinks herself a Christian, when she is 
 just as much a hippogriff, or a chimsera. 
 
 " Well, but Aristo," said Jucundus, " I was going 
 to tell you who is at the bottom of it all. CalHsta's 
 mad ; Agellius is mad ; Juba is mad ; and Strabo was 
 mad;— but it was his wife, old Gurta, that drove him 
 mad;— and there, I think, is the beo^innino^ of our 
 troubles. . . . Come in! come in, Cornelius !" he cried, 
 seeing his Eoman friend outside, and relapsing for the 
 moment into his lugubrious tone ; " Come in, Cor- 
 nelius, and give us some comfort, if you can. Well ! 
 this is like a friend ! I know you will help me, if you 
 can." 
 
 Cornelius answered that he was going back to 
 Carthage in a day or two, and came to embrace 
 him, and had hoped to have a parting supper before 
 he went. 
 
 "That's kind!" answered Jucundus: "but first 
 tell me all about this dreadful affair ; for you are in the 
 secrets of the Capitol. Have they any clue what has 
 become of my poor Agellius ? " 
 
A SKETCH OF TUE TUIED CENTUET. 223 
 
 Cornelius had not heard of the young man's trou- 
 bles, and was full of consternation at the news. 
 
 "What! Agellius really a Christian?" he said, 
 " and at such a moment ? Why, I thought you 
 talked of some young lady who was to keep him in 
 order?" 
 
 " She's a Christian, too," replied Jucundus ; and a 
 silence ensued. "It's a bad world!" he continued. 
 " She's imprisoned by the Triumviri. AVhat will be 
 the end of it?" 
 
 Cornelius shook his head, and looked mysterious. 
 
 " You don't mean it ?" said Jucundus. " Not any- 
 thing so dreadful, I do trust, Cornelius. Kot the 
 stake?" 
 
 Cornelius still looked gloomy and pompous. 
 
 "Nothing in the way of torture?" he went on; 
 " not the rack, or the pitchfork ?" 
 
 " It's a bad business, on your own showing," said 
 Cornelius : " it's a bad business !" 
 
 "Can you do nothing for us, Cornelius?" cried 
 Aristo. " The great people in Carthage are your 
 friends. O, Cornelius! I'd do any thing for you! — 
 I'd be your slave ! She's no more a Christian than 
 great Jove. She has nothing about her of the cut ; — 
 not a shred of her garment, or a turn of her hair. 
 She's a G-reek from head to foot, — within and without. 
 She's as bright as the day ! Ah ! we have no friends 
 here. Dear Callista ! you will be lost, because you 
 are a foreigner ! " and the passionate youth began to 
 tear his hair. " O, Cornelius!" he continued, "if 
 you can do any thing for us ! O ! she shall sing and 
 dance to you ; she shall come and kneel down to you, 
 and embrace your knees, and kiss your feet, as I do, 
 Cornelius ! " and he knelt down, and would have taken 
 hold of Cornelius's beard. 
 
 Cornelius had never been addressed with so poetical 
 a ceremonial, which nevertheless he received with 
 awkwardness indeed, but with satisfaction. " I hear 
 from you," he said with pomposity, "that your aister 
 
224i CALLTSTA ; 
 
 is in prison on suspicion of Christianity. The case is 
 a simple one. Let her swear by the genius of the 
 Emperor, and she is free ; let her refuse it, and the 
 law must take its course," and he made a slight bow. 
 
 "Well, but she is under a delusion," persisted 
 Aristo, " which cannot last long. She says distinctly 
 that she is not a Christian, is not that decisive ? but 
 then she won't burn incense; she won't swear by 
 E/Ome. She says she does not believe in Jupiter, nor 
 I ; can any thing be more senseless ? It is the act of 
 a mad woman. I say, ' My girl, the question is, are 
 you to be brought to shame ? are you to die by the 
 public sword ? die in torments ?' O, I shall go mad as 
 well as she ! " he screamed out. " She was so clever, 
 so witty, so sprightly, so imaginative, so versatile ! 
 why, there's nothing she couldn't do. She could 
 model, paint, play on the lyre, sing, act. She could 
 work with the needle, she could embroider. She made 
 this girdle for me. It's all that Agellius, it's Agellius. 
 . . . I beg your pardon, Jucundus ; but it is;" and he 
 threw himself on the ground, and rolled in the dust. 
 
 "I have been telling our young friend," said Ju- 
 cundus to Cornelius, " to exert self-control, and to 
 recollect Menander, ' Ne quid nimis \' Grieving 
 does no good, but these young fellows, it's no use at all 
 speaking to them. Do you think you could do any 
 thing for us, Cornelius ? " 
 
 " AVliy," answered Cornelius, " since I have been 
 here, I have fallen in with a very sensible man, and a 
 man of remarkably sound political opinions. He has 
 a great reputation, he is called Polemo, and is one of 
 the professors at the Mercury. He seems to me to 
 go to the root of these subjects, and I'm surprised 
 how well we agreed. He's a Greek, as well as this 
 young gentleman's sister. I should recommend him 
 to go to Polemo ; if any one would disabuse her mind, 
 it is he." 
 
 ' " Moderation in all things." 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 225 
 
 "True, true," cried Aristo, starting up, "but no, 
 you can do it better ; you have power with the go- 
 vernment. The Proconsul will listen to you. The 
 magistrates here are afraid oiliim ; tlicy don't wish to 
 touch the poor girl, not they. But there's such a 
 noise every where, and so much ill-blood, and so many 
 spies and informers, and so much mistrust— but why 
 should it come upon Callista ? Why should slie 
 be a sacrifice ? But you'd oblige the Duumvirs as 
 much as me, in getting her out of the scrape. But 
 ■what good would it do if they tooh her dear life ? 
 Only get us the respite of a month; the delusion 
 -would vanish in a mouth. Get two months, if you 
 can ; or as long as you can, you know. Perhaps they 
 would let us steal out of the country, and no one the 
 "wiser ; and no harm to any one. It was a bad job our 
 coming here." 
 
 " W"e know nothing at Eome of feelings, and inten- 
 tions, and motives, and distinctions," said Cornelius ; 
 " and we know nothing of understandings, conniv- 
 ances, and evasions. We go by facts : Eome goes by 
 facts. The question is, — what is the fact ? Does she 
 burn incense, or does she not ? Does she worship the 
 ass, or does she not ? However, we'll see what can 
 be done." And so he went on, informing the pair of 
 mourners that, as far as his influence extended, he 
 would do something in behalf both of Agellius and 
 CaUista. 
 
226 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI, 
 
 The sun had now descended the last time before the so- 
 lemn day which was charged with the fate of Callista, 
 and what was the state of mind of one who excited such 
 keen interest in the narrow circle within which she 
 was known ? And how does it differ from what it was 
 some weeks before, when Agellius last saw her ? She 
 would have been unable to say herself. " So is the 
 kingdom of Grod : as if a man should cast seed into 
 the earth, and should sleep and rise, night and day, 
 and the seed should spring and grow up, whilst he 
 knoweth not." She might, indeed, have been able after- 
 wards, on looking back, to say many things of herself; 
 and she would have recognized that, while she was con- 
 tinually differing from herself, in that she was changing; 
 yet it was not a change which involved contrariety, 
 but one which expanded itself in (as it were) con- 
 centric circles, and only fulfilled, as time went on, the 
 promise of its beginning. Every day, as it came, was, 
 so to say, the child of the preceding, the parent of that 
 which followed; and the end to which she tended 
 could not get beyond the aim with which she set out. 
 Yet, had she been asked, at the time of which we 
 speak, where was her principle and consistency, what 
 was her logic, or whether she acted on reason, or on 
 impulse, or on feeling, or in fancy, or on passion ? she 
 would have been reduced to silence. What did she 
 
A SKETCH OF THE TniRD CENTURY. 227 
 
 know about herself, but that, to her surprise, the more 
 she thought over what she heard of Christianity, the 
 more she was drawn to it, and the more it appr<#ed 
 itself to her whole soul ; and the more it seemed to 
 respond to all her needs and aspirations, and the more 
 intimate was her presentiment that it was true ? Tlie 
 longer it remained on her mind as an object, the more 
 it seemed (unlike the mythology or the philosophy 
 of her country, or the political religion of Rome), 
 to have an external reality and substance which 
 deprived objections to it of their power, and showed 
 them to be at best but difficulties and perplexities. 
 
 But then again, if she had been asked, what was 
 Christianity ? slie would have been puzzled to give an 
 answer. She would have been able to mention some par- 
 ticular trutlis which it taught, but neither to give their 
 definite and distinct shape, nor to describe the mode in 
 which they were realized. She would have said, " I be- 
 lieve what has been told me, as from heaven, by Chione, 
 Agellius, and Csecilius:" and it was clear she could 
 say nothing else. What the three told her in 
 common and in concord, was at once the measure of 
 her creed, and the ground of her acceptance of it. It 
 was that wonderful unity of sentiment and belief in 
 persons so dissimilar from each other, so distinct in 
 their circumstances, so independent in their testi- 
 mony, which recommended to her the doctrine which 
 they were so unanim.ous in teaching. She had long 
 given up any belief in the religion of her country. As 
 to philosophy, it dwelt only in conjecture and opinion ; 
 whereas the very essence of religion was, as she felt, a 
 recognition on the part of the Object of it. Re- 
 ligion could not be without hope. To worship a being 
 who did not speak to us, recognize us, love us, was not 
 religion. It might be a duty, it might be a merit ; 
 but her instinctive notion of religion was the soul's 
 response to a God who had taken notice of the soul. 
 It was loving intercourse, or it was a name. jN'ow the 
 three witnesses who had addressed her about Chris- 
 
228 CALLISTA ; 
 
 tianitj, had each of them made it to consist in the 
 intimate Divine Presence in the heart. It way the 
 friindship or mutual love of person with person. 
 Here was the very teaching which already was so 
 demanded both by her reason and her heart, which 
 she found no where else ; which she found existing 
 one and the same in a female slave, in a country 
 youth, in a learned priest. 
 
 This was the broad impression which they made 
 upon her mind. When she turned to consider more 
 in detail what it was they taught, or what was implied 
 in that idea of religion which so much approved itself to 
 her, she understood them to say, that the Creator of 
 heaven and earth. Almighty, All-good, clothed in all 
 the attributes which philosophy gives Him, the In- 
 finite, had loved the soul of man so much, and her 
 soul in particular, that He had come upon earth in 
 the form of a man, and in that form had gone through 
 sufferings, in order to unite all souls to Him : that He 
 desired to love, and to be loved ; that He had said so ; 
 that He had called on man to love Him, and did 
 actually bring to pass this loving intercourse of Him 
 and man in those souls who surrendered themselves to 
 Him. She did not go much furtlier than this ; but as 
 much as this was before her mind morning, noon, and 
 night. It pleaded in her; it importuned her ; it would 
 not be rebuffed. It did not mind her moods, or 
 disgusts, or doubts, or denials, or dismissals; but 
 came again and again. It rose before her, in spite of 
 the contempt, reproach, and persecution which the 
 profession of it involved. It smiled upon her; it 
 made promises to her ; it opened eternal A'iews to her ; 
 and it grew upon her convictions in clearness of per- 
 ception, in congruity, and in persuasiveness. 
 
 Moreover, the more she thought of Chione, of Agel- 
 lius, and of CosciHus, the more surely did she discern 
 tliat this teaching wrought in them a something which 
 she had not. They had about them a simplicity, a 
 truthfulness, a decision, an elevation, a calmness, and 
 
 I 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY, 229 
 
 a sanctity to which she was a stranger, which spoke to 
 her heart, and absolutely overcame her. The image 
 of Caecilius, in particular, came out prominently and 
 eloquently in her memory, — not in his words so much, 
 as in his manner. In spite of what she had injuriously 
 said to him, she really felt drawn to worship him, as 
 if he were the shrine and the home of that Presence 
 to which he bore such solemn witness. 
 
 O the change, when, as if in punishment for her 
 wild words against him, she found herself actually in 
 the hands of lawless men, who were as far below her 
 in sentiment, as he was above her ! O the change, 
 wdien she was dizzied by their brutal vociferations and 
 rapid motion, and that breath and atmosphere of evil 
 which steamed up from the rankness of their im- 
 piety ! the thankfulness, which rose up in her 
 heart, though but vaguely directed to an object, when 
 she found the repose and quiet, though it was that 
 of a prison ! for young as she was, she had become 
 tired of all things that were seen, and had no strong 
 desire, except for meditation on the great truths she 
 did not know. 
 
 One day passes and then another; and now the 
 morning and the hour is come when she must appear 
 before the magistrates of Sicca. "With dread, with 
 agitation, she looks forward to the moment. She has 
 not yet a peace within. Her peace is the stillness of 
 the room in which she is imprisoned. She knows it 
 will pass away, when she leaves it : she knows that 
 again she must be in the hands of cruel, godless men, 
 with whom she has no sympathy ; but she has no stay 
 whereon to lean in the terrible trial. Her brother 
 comes to her: he affects to forget her perverseness 
 or delusion. He comes to her with a smile, and 
 throws his arms around her; and Calhsta repels, 
 from some indescribable feeling, his ardent caress, 
 as if she were no longer his. He has come to ac- 
 company her to court, by an indulgence which he 
 had obtained; to support her there, — to carry her 
 
230 CALLISTA ; 
 
 througb, and to take her back in triumpK home. 
 My sister, — why that strange, piteous look upon thy 
 countenance ? — why that paleness of thy cheek ? — 
 why that whisper of thy lips? — why those wistful, 
 gentle pleadings of thine eyes? Sweet eyes, aiid lips, 
 and brow, and clieek, in which I have ever prided my- 
 self! Why so backward? — why so distant and un- 
 friendly ? Am I not come to rescue thee from a 
 place where thou never shouldst have been ? — where 
 thou ne'er shalt be again ? Callista, what is this 
 mysterj^ ? — speak ! 
 
 Such as this was the mute expostulation conveyed 
 in Aristo's look, and in the fond grasp of his hand, 
 while treading down forcibly within him his memory 
 and his fears of her change of mind, he determined she 
 should be to him still all that she had ever been. And 
 what came upon that look and that grasp when she at 
 length gave utterance to the mysterious meaning of her 
 face, and said to him, in agitation, " My time is short : I 
 Mant some Christian, a Christian priest ?" 
 
 It was as though she had never shown any ten- 
 dency before to the proscribed religion. The words 
 came to him with the intensity of something new and 
 unimagined before. He clasped his hands in emotion, 
 turned white, and could but say, "Callista!" If 
 she had made confession of the most heinous of 
 crimes, — if she had spoken of murder, of some black 
 treachery against himself, — of some enormity too great 
 for words, it might have been; but his sister! — his 
 pride and delight, after all and certainly a Chris^tian ! 
 Better far had she said she was leaving him for ever, — 
 to abandon herself to the service of the temples ; better 
 had she said she had taken hemlock, or had an asp in 
 her bosom, than that she should choose to go out of 
 the world with the tortures, the ignominy, the male- 
 diction of the religion of slaves ! 
 
 Time waits for no man, nor does the court of justice, 
 nor the suhsellia of the magistrate. The examination 
 is to be held in the Basilica at the Torum, and it 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THTED CENTURY. 231 
 
 requires from us a few words of explanation beforehand. 
 The local magistrates then could only try the lesser of- 
 fences, and decide civil suits ; cases of suspected Chris- 
 tianity were reserved for the Eoman authorities. Still 
 preliminary examinations were not unfrequently con- 
 ducted by the city Duumvirs, or even in what may be 
 called the police courts. And this may have especially 
 been the case in the Proconsulates. Proprietors and 
 Presidents were in the appointment of the Emperor, 
 and joined in their persons the supreme civil and 
 military authority. Such provinces, perhaps, were 
 better administered ; but there would be more of 
 arbitrariness in their rule, and it would not be so 
 acceptable to the ruled. The Proconsuls, on the 
 other hand, were representatives of the Senate, and 
 had not the military force directly in their hands. 
 The natural tendency of this arrangement was to 
 create, on the one hand, a rivalry between the civil 
 and military establishments ; and on the other, to 
 create a friendly feeling between the Proconsul and 
 the local magistracy. Thus, not long before the date 
 of this history, we read of Gordian, the Proconsul, 
 enjoying a remarkable popularity in his African pro- 
 vince ; and when the people rose against the exactions 
 of the imperial Procurator, as alluded to in a former 
 page, they chose and supported Gordian against 
 him. But, however this might be in general, so it 
 was at this time at Sicca, that the Proconsular OJflciiim 
 and the city magistrates were on a good understanding, 
 whereas there was some collision between the latter 
 and the military, Not much depends in the conduct 
 of our story upon this circumstance ; but it must be 
 taken to account for the examination of Callista in the 
 Forum, and for some other details which may follow, 
 before we come to the end of it. 
 
 The populace was collected about the gates and 
 within the ample space of the Basilica, but they gave 
 expression to no strong feeling on the subject of a 
 Christian delinquent. The famii;e, the sickness, and, 
 
232 ^ CALLISTA ; 
 
 above all, the lesson which they had received so lately 
 from the soldiers, had both diminished their numbers 
 and cowed their spirits. They were sullen too, and 
 resentful; and, with the changeableness proverbial in 
 a multitude, had rather have witnessed the beheading 
 of a magistrate, or the burning of a tribune, than the 
 torture and death of a dozen of' wretched Christians. 
 Besides, they had had a glut of Christian blood ; a 
 reaction of feeling had taken place, and, in spite of 
 the suspicion of witchcraft, the youth and the beauty 
 of Callista recommended her to their compassion. 
 
 The magistrates were seated on the suhsellia, one of 
 the Duumvirs presiding, in his white robe bordered 
 with purple ; his lictors, with staves, not fasces, stand- 
 ing behind him. In the entrance of the court, to 
 confront the prisoner on her first entrance, were the 
 usual instruments of torture. The charge was one 
 which can only be compared, in the estimation of both 
 state and people in that day, to that of witchcraft, 
 poisoning, parricide, or other monstrous iniquity in 
 Christian times. There were the heavy hoice, a yoke 
 for the neck, of iron, or of wood ; the fetters ; the 
 oiervi, or stocks, in which hands and feet were inserted, 
 at distances from each other which strained or dislo- 
 cated the joints. There too were the virgcs, or rods 
 with thorns in them ; the flagra, Jori, and pJumhati, 
 whips and thongs, cutting with iron or bruising with 
 lead ; the heavy clubs ; the hook for digging into the 
 flesh ; the ungula, said to have been a pair of scissors ; 
 the scovpio and pecten, iron combs or rakes for tearing. 
 And there was the wheel, fringed with spikes, on 
 which the culprit was stretched ; and there was the 
 fire ready lighted, with the water hissing and groaning 
 in the large caldrons which were placed upon it. Cal- 
 lista had lost for ever that noble intellectual com- 
 posure of which we have several times spoken ; she 
 shuddered at what she saw, and almost fainted, aiid, 
 while waiting for her summons, leaned heavily against 
 the merciless cornicularius at her side. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 233 
 
 At lenf^tli the judge began : " Let the servant from 
 the O^^/c/z*;?^ stand forth." The q facialis answered that 
 he had brought a prisoner charged with Christi/inity ; 
 she had been brought to him by the military on the 
 night of the riot. 
 
 The scriha then read out the deposition of one of 
 the stationarii, to the effect that he and his fellow- 
 sokliers had received her from the hands of the civic 
 force on the night in question, and had brought her to 
 the office of the Triumvirs. 
 
 " Bring forward the prisoner," said the judge ; she 
 was brought forward, 
 
 "Here she is," answered the officialise according to 
 the prescribed form. 
 
 " What is your name ? " said the judge. 
 She answered, " Callista." 
 • The judge then asked if she was a freewoman or a 
 slave ? 
 
 " She answered, " Free ; the daughter of Orsilochus, 
 lapidary, of Proconnesus." 
 
 Some conversation then went on among the ma- 
 gistrates as to her advocate or defensor. Aristo pre- 
 sented himself, but the question arose whether he 
 ^^'as togatus. He was known, however, to several 
 magistrates, and was admitted to stand by his sister. 
 
 Then the scriha read the charge, viz. that Callista 
 was a Christian, and refused to sacrifice to the gods. 
 
 It was a plain question of fact, which required 
 neither witnesses nor speeches. At a sign from the 
 Duumvir in came two priests, bringing in between 
 them the sm.all altar of Jupiter ; the charcoal was 
 ready lighted, the incense at the side, and the judge 
 called to the prisoner to sprinkle it upon the flame for 
 the good fortune of Dccius and his son. All eyes 
 were turned upon her. 
 
 " I am not a Christian," she said, " I told you so 
 before. I have never been to a Christian place of 
 worship, nor taken any Christian oath, nor joined in 
 
234 CALLISTA ; 
 
 any Christian sacrifice. And I should lie did I say 
 that I Avas in any sense a Christian." 
 
 There was a silence; then the judge said, "Prove 
 your words ; there is the altar, the flame, and the 
 incense ; sacrifice to the genius of the emperor." 
 
 She said, " AVhat can I do ? I am not a Christian." 
 
 The judges looked at each other, as much as to say, 
 " It is the old story ; it is that inexplicable, hateful 
 obstinacy, which will neither yield to reason, common 
 sense, expediency, or fear." 
 
 The Duumvir only repeated the single word, " Sa- 
 crifice." 
 
 She stopped awhile ; then she came forward with a 
 hurried step; " 0, my fate !" she cried, "why was I 
 born ? why am I in this strait ? I have no god. What 
 can I do ? I am abandoned ; why should I not do 
 it?" She stopped; then she went right on to the 
 altar ; she took the incense ; suddenly she looked up 
 to heaven and started, and threw it away. " I cannot, 
 I dare not," she cried out. There was a great sensa- 
 tion in court. " Evidently insane," said some of the 
 more merciful of the Decurions, " poor thing, poor 
 thing." Her brother ran up to her, talked to her, 
 conjured her, fell down on his knees to her; took her 
 hand violently, and would have forced her to offer. In 
 vain ; all he could get from her was, " I am not a 
 Christian, indeed I am not a Christian. I have no- 
 thing to do with them. O, the misery ! " 
 
 " She is mad," cried Aristo ; " my lord judges, listen 
 to me. She was seized by brutal ruflians during the 
 riot, and the fright and shock have overcome her. 
 Give her time, O give her time, and she will get right. 
 She's a good religious girl ; she has done more work for 
 the temples than any girl in Sicca ; half the statues 
 in the city are her finishing. Many of you, my lords, 
 have her handiwork. She works with me. Do not 
 add to my anguish in seeing her deranged, by punish- 
 ing her as a criminal, a Christian : do not take hei' 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CEFTUET. 235 
 
 from me. Sentence her, and you end the whole 
 matter ; give her a chance, and she will certainly be 
 restored to the gods and to me. AYill you put het 
 to death because she is mad ? " 
 
 AVhat was to be done ? The court was afraid of the 
 Proconsul, afraid of Home ; jealous that the mob 
 should have been more forward than the magistracy. 
 Had the city moved sooner, as soon as the edict came, 
 there would have been no rising, no inot. Already 
 they had been called on for a report about that riot, 
 and an explanation ; if ever they had need to look 
 sharp what they were doing, it was now. On the 
 other hand, Callista and her brother had friends among 
 the judges, as we have said, and their plea was at once 
 obvious and reasonable. " If she persists, she per- 
 sists, and nothing can be said ; we don't wish to be 
 disloyal, or careless of the emperor's commands. If 
 she is obstinate, she must die ; but she dies quite as 
 usefully to us, with quite as much effect, a month 
 hence as now. Not that we ask you to define a time 
 on your own authority ; simply do this, write to Car- 
 thage for advice. The government can answer within 
 an hour, if it chooses. Merely say, here is a young 
 woman, who has ever been religious and well-con- 
 ducted, of great accomplishments, and known espe- 
 cially for her taste and skill in religious art, who since 
 the day of the riot, has suddenly refused to take the 
 test. She can give no reason for her refusal, and 
 protests she is not a Christian. Her friends say that 
 the fright has turned her brain, but that if kindly 
 treated and kept quiet, she will come round, aiid do 
 all that is required of her. What are we to do ?" 
 
 At last Callista' s friends prevailed. It was decided 
 that the judges should pass over this examination alto- 
 gether, as if it had been rendered informal by Cal- 
 lista' s conduct. Had they recognized it as a proper 
 legal process, they must have sentenced and executed 
 her. Such a decision was of this further advantage to 
 her, that nothing was altered as to her place of confine- 
 
236 CALLISTA; 
 
 ment. Instead of being handed over to the state prison, 
 she remained in her former lodging, though in cus- 
 tody, and was allowed to see her friends. There had 
 been very little chance of her recovery, supposing she 
 was mad, or of ever coming out, if she had once gone 
 into the formidable Career. Meanwhile the magis- 
 trates sent to Cartha<2:e for instructions. 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIED CENTUEY. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Aeisto was not a fellow to have very long distresses ; 
 he never would have died of love or of envy, for 
 honour or for loss of property; but his present ca- 
 lamity was one of the greatest he could ever have, and 
 weighed upon him as long as ever any one could. His 
 love for his sister was real, but it would not do to 
 look too closely into the ground of it ; if we are 
 obliged to do so, we must confess to a suspicion that 
 it lay rather in certain outward, nay, accidental attri- 
 butes of Callista, than in Callista herself Did she 
 lose her good looks, or her amiable unresisting sub- 
 mission to his wishes, whatever they were, she would 
 also lose her hold upon his affections. This is not to 
 make any severe chai'ge against him, considering how 
 it is with the common run of brothers and sisters, 
 husbands and wives ; at the same time, most people 
 are haunted by the memory of the past, and love for 
 "Auld lang syne," and this Aristo might have had, 
 and perhaps had not. He loved chiefly for the present, 
 and by the hour. 
 
 However, at the present time he was in a state of 
 acute suftering, and under its paroxysm, he bethought 
 him again of Cornelius's advice, which he had rejected, 
 to betake himself to Polemo. He had a distant ac- 
 quaintance with him, sufficient for his purpose, and he 
 called on him at the Mercury after his lecture. Po- 
 lemo was no fool, though steeped in affectation and 
 
238 CALLISTA ; 
 
 self-conceit, and Aristo fancied that his sister might be 
 more moved by a philosophical compatriot than any 
 one else. Polemo's astonishment, however, when the 
 matter was proposed to him surpassed words, and it 
 showed how utterly Aristo was absorbed in his own 
 misery, that the possibility of such a reception should 
 not have occurred to him. "What he, the friend of 
 Plotinus, of Eogatian, and the other noble men and 
 women who were his condisciples at Eome ; he, a 
 member of the intellectual aristocracy of the metro- 
 polis of the world, what he to visit a felon in prison ! 
 and when he found the felon was a Christian, he fully 
 thouglit that Aristo had come to insult him, and was 
 on the point of bidding him leave him to himself. 
 Aristo, however, persisted ; and his evident auguish, 
 and some particulars which came out softened liim. 
 Callista was a Grreek ; a literate, or blue-stocking. 
 She had never indeed worn the philosophic pallium (as 
 some Christian martyrs afterwards, if not beibre, have 
 done — St. Catharine and St. Euphemia), but there was 
 no reason why she should not do so. Polemo recol- 
 lected having heard of her at the Capitol, and in the 
 triclinium of one of the Decurions, as a lady of singu- 
 lar genius and attainments ; and he lately had made 
 an attempt to form a female class of hearers, aud it 
 would be a feather in his cap to make a convert of 
 her. So, not many days after, one evening, accom- 
 panied by Aristo, he set out in his litter to the lodg- 
 ing where she was in custody ; not, however, without 
 much misgiving when it came to the point, some 
 shame, and a consequent visible awkwardness and 
 stiffness in his manner. All the perfumes he had 
 about him could not hinder the disgust of such a visit 
 rising up into his nostrils. 
 
 Callista's room was very well for a prison ; it was 
 on the ground-floor of a house of many stories, close 
 to the Officium of the Triumvirate. Though not any 
 longer under their strict jurisdiction, she was allowed 
 to remain where she had first been lodged. She was 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIED CENTURr. 239 
 
 in one of the rooms belonging to an apparitor of that 
 Officium, and, as he had a wife, or at least a partner, 
 to take care of her, she might consider herself very 
 well oiF. However, the reader must recollect that we 
 are in Africa, in the month of July, and our young 
 Greek was little used to heats which made the whole 
 city nothing less than one vast oven through the greater 
 part of the twenty-four hours. In lofty, spacious 
 apartments the resource adopted is to exclude the ex- 
 ternal air, and to live as Greenlanders, with closed 
 windows and doors ; this was both impossible, and 
 would have been unsuccessful if attempted, in the 
 small apartment of Callista. But fever of mind is even 
 worse than the heat of the sky ; and it is undeniable 
 that her health, and her strength, and her appearance 
 are affected by both the physical and the moral enemy. 
 The beauty, which was her brother's delight, is waning 
 away ; and the shadows, if not the rudiments of a diviner 
 loveliness, which is of expression, not of feature, 
 which inspires not human passion, but diffuses chaste 
 thoughts and aspirations, are taking its place. Aristo 
 sees the change with no kind of satisfaction. The 
 room has a bench, two or three stools, and a bed of 
 rushes in one corner. A staple is firmly fixed in the 
 wall ; and an iron chain, light, however, and long, if 
 the two ideas can be reconciled, reaches to her slender 
 arm, and is joined to it by an iron ring. 
 
 On Polemo's entering the room, his first exclama- 
 tion was to complain of its closeness ; but he had to 
 do a work, so he began it without delay. Callista, 
 on her part, started ; she had no wish for his presence. 
 She was reclining on her couch, and she sat up. She 
 was not equal to a controversy, nor did she mean to 
 have one, whatever might be the case with liim. 
 
 "Callista, my life and jo}^, dear Callista," said her 
 brother, " I have brought the greatest nian in Sicca to 
 see you." 
 
 Callista cast upon him an earnest look, which soon 
 
240 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 subsided into indifference. He had a rose of Cyrene 
 in his hand, whose perfume he diffused about the 
 small room. 
 
 "It is Polemo," continued Aristo, "the friend of 
 the great Plotinus, who knows all philosophies and 
 all philosophers. Hehas come out of kindness to you," 
 
 Callista acknowledged his presence ; it was cer- 
 tainly, she said, a great kindness for any one to visit 
 her, and there. 
 
 Polemo replied by a compliment; he said it was 
 Socrates visiting Aspasia. There had always been 
 women above the standard of their sex, and they had 
 ever held an intellectual converse with men of mind. 
 He saw one such before him. 
 
 Callista felt it would be plunging her soul still deeper 
 into shadows, when she sought realities, if she must 
 take part in such an argument. She remained silent. 
 
 "Your sister has not the fit upon her?" asked 
 Polemo of Aristo aside, neither liking her reception of 
 him, nor knowing what to say. "Not at all, dear 
 thing," answered Aristo ; " she is all attention for you 
 to begin." 
 
 "Natives of Greece," at length said he, "natives 
 of Greece should know each other ; they deserve to 
 know each other ; there is a secret sympathy between 
 them. Like that mysterious influence which unites 
 magnet to magnet ; or like the echo which is a re- 
 percussion of the original voice. So, in like manner, 
 Greeks are what none but they can be," and he smelt 
 at his rose and bowed. 
 
 She smiled faintly when he mentioned Greece. 
 "Yes," she said, "I am fonder of Greece than of 
 Africa." 
 
 " Each has its advantages," said Polemo ; " there is a 
 pleasure in imparting knowledge, in lighting flame 
 from flame. It would be selfish did we not leave 
 Greece to communicate what they have not here. But 
 you," he added, "lady, neither can learn in Greece 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CEIfTURT. 241 
 
 nor teacli iu Africa, wliile you are in this vestibule of 
 hell. I understand, however, it is jour own choice ; 
 can that be possible ? " 
 
 " Well, I wish to get out, if I could, most learned 
 Polemo," said Callista sadly. 
 
 " May Polemo of Ehodes speak frankly to Callista 
 of Proconnesus ? " asked Polemo, " I would not 
 speak to every one. If so, let me ask, Avhat keeps^ 
 you here?" 
 
 " The magistrates of Sicca and this iron chain," an- 
 swered Callista. " I would I could be elsewhere ; I 
 would I were not what I am." 
 
 " What could you wish to be more than you are ? " 
 answered Polemo ; " more gifted, accomplished, beau- 
 tiful than any daughter of Africa." 
 
 " Go to the point, Polemo," said Aristo nervously, 
 though respectfully ; "she wants home-thrusts." 
 
 " I see my brother wants you to ask how far it de- 
 pends on me that I am here," said Callista, wishing 
 to hasten his movements ; " it is because I w^ill not 
 burn incense upon the altar of Jupiter." 
 
 " A most insufficient reason, lady," said Polemo. 
 
 Callista was silent. 
 
 " What does that action mean ? " said Polemo; "it 
 proposes to mean nothing else than that you are loyal 
 to the Eoman power. You are not of those Greeks, 
 I presume, who dream of a national insurrection at 
 this time ? then you are loyal to Pome. Did I believe 
 aLeonidas could now arise, an Ilarmodius, a Miltiades, 
 a Themistocles, a Pericles, an Epaminondas, I should 
 be as ready to take the sword as another; but it is 
 hopeless. Greece, then, makes no claim on you just now. 
 Nor will I believe, though you were to tell me so your- 
 self, that you are leagued with any obscure, fanatic 
 sect who desire Eome's downfall. Consider Avhat 
 Eome is;" and now he had got into the magnificent 
 commonplace, out of his last panegyrical oration, with 
 which he had primed himself before he set out. " I 
 am a Greek," he said, " I love Greece, but I love truth 
 
 E 
 
2i2 calltsta; 
 
 better ; and I look at facts, I grasp them, and I confess 
 to them. The whole earth, through untold centuries, 
 has at length grown into the imperial dominion of 
 Eome. It has converged and coalesced in all its va- 
 rious parts into one Kome. This, which we see, is 
 the last, the perfect state of human society. The 
 course of things, the force of natural powers, as is well 
 understood by all great lawyers and philosophers, 
 cannot go further. Unity has come at length, and 
 unity is eternity. It will be for ever, because it is 
 one. The principle of dissolution is eliminated. We 
 have reached the apotelesma of the world. Grreece, 
 Egypt, Syria, Libya, Etruria, Lydia, have all had their 
 share in the result. Each of them, in its own day, 
 has striven in vain to stop the course of fate, and has 
 been hurried onwards at its wheels as its victim or its 
 instrument. And shall Judsea do what profound 
 Egypt and subtle Greece have tried in vain ? If even 
 the freedom of thought, the liberal scepticism, nay, 
 the revolutionary theories of Hellas have proved un- 
 equal to the task of splitting up the Eoman power, if 
 the pomp and luxury of the East have failed, shall the 
 mysticism of Syria succeed ? " 
 
 " AVell, dear Callista, are you listening ? " cried 
 Aristo, not over-confident of the fact, though Polemo 
 looked round at him with astonishment. 
 
 "Ten centuries," he continued, " ten centuries have 
 just been completed since Eome began her victorious 
 career. Eor ten cejituries she has been fulfilling her 
 high mission in the dispositions of Destiny, and per- 
 fecting her maxims of policy and rules of government. 
 Eor ten centuries she has pursued one track with au 
 ever growing intensity of zeal, and an ever widening 
 extent of territory. What can she not do ? one 
 thing, and that one thing which she has not presumed 
 to do, 3^ou are attempting. She has maintained her 
 own religion, as was fitting ; but she has never thrown 
 contempt on the religion of others. This you are 
 doing. Observe, Callista, Eome herself, in spite of 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 243 
 
 her great power, lias yielded to that necessity wliich is 
 greater. She does not meddle with the religious of 
 the peoples. She has opened no war against their 
 diversities of rite. The conquering power found, espe- 
 cially in the East, innumerable traditions, customs, 
 prejudices, principles, superstitions, matted together 
 in one hopeless mass ; she left them as they were ; 
 she recognized them; it would have been the worse 
 for her if she had done otherwise. All she said to the 
 peoples, all she dared say to them, was, ' You bear with 
 me, and I will bear with you.' Yet this you will not 
 do ; you Christians, who have no pretence to any terri- 
 tory, who are not even the smallest of the peoples, who 
 are not even a people at all, you have the fanaticism 
 to denounce all other rites but your own, nay, the 
 religion of great Eome. Who are you ? upstarts and 
 vagabonds of yesterday. Older religions than yours, 
 more intellectual, more beautiful, religions, which have 
 had a position, and a history, and a political influence, 
 have come to nought ; and shall you prevail, you, a conge- 
 Wc5,ahotch-potch of the leavings, and scraps, and broken 
 meat of the great peoples of the East and West ? 
 Blush, blush, Grrecian Callista, you with a glorious 
 nationality of your own to go shares with some 
 hundred peasants, slaves, thieves, beggars, hucksters, 
 tinkers, cobblers, and fishermen ! A lady of high cha- 
 racter, of brilliant accomplishments, to be the associate 
 of the outcasts of society ! " 
 
 Polemo's speech, though cumbrous, did execution, 
 at least the termination of it, upon minds constituted 
 like the Grecian. Aristo jumped up, swore an oath, 
 and looked round triumphantly at Callista, who felt its 
 force also. After all, what did she know of Christians ? 
 — at best she was leaving the known for the unknown : 
 she was sure to be embracing certain evil for contingent 
 good. She said to herself, " No, I never can be a 
 Christian." Then she said aloud, " My lord Polemo, 
 I am not a Christian;— I never said I was." 
 
 "That is her absurdity!" cried Aristo. "She ia 
 112 
 
244 CALLISTA ; 
 
 neitlier one thing nor tlie other. She won't say she's 
 a Christian, and she won't sacrifice!" 
 
 " It is my misfortune," she said, " I know, I am 
 losing both what I see, and what I don't see. It is 
 most inconsistent: yet what can I do ?" 
 
 Polemo had said what he considered enough. He 
 was one of those who sold his words. He had already 
 been over-generous, and was disposed to give away no 
 more. 
 
 After a time, Callista said, " Polemo, do you believe 
 in one God?" 
 
 "Certain]}^," he answered: "I believe in one 
 eternal, self-existing something." 
 
 "Well," she said, "I feel that God within my 
 heart. I feel myself in His j^resence. He says to me, 
 * Do this : don't do that.' Ton may tell me that this 
 dictate is a mere law of m.y nature, as to joy or to 
 grieve. I cannot understand this. No, it is the 
 echo of a person speaking to me. Nothing shall 
 persuade me that it does not ultimately proceed from a 
 person external to me. It carries with it its proof of 
 its divine origin. My nature feels towards it as to- 
 wards a person. 'When I obey it, I feel a satisfaction ; 
 when I disobey, a soreness, — just like that which I 
 feel in pleasing or ofiending some revered friend. So 
 you see, Polemo, I believe in what is more than a mere 
 " something." I believe in what is more real to me than 
 sun, moo]3, stars, and the fair earth, and the voice of 
 friends. You will say, AA'ho is He ? Has He ever 
 told you any thing about Himself ? Alas! no! — the 
 more's the pity ! But I will not give up what I have, 
 because I have not more. An echo implies a voice ; 
 a voice a speaker. That speaker I love and I fear." 
 
 Here she was exhausted, and overcome too, poor 
 Callista ! with her own emotions. 
 
 "O that I could find Him!" she exclaimed, pas- 
 sionately. " On the right hand and on the left I 
 grope, but touch Him not. Why dost Thou fight 
 against me ? — why dost Thou scare and perplex me, 
 
A SKETCH OE THE THIRD CENTUET. 245 
 
 First and Only Fair ? I have Thee not, and I need 
 Thee." She added, " I am no Christian, you see, or I 
 shoidd have found Him ; or at least I should say I had 
 found Him." 
 
 " It is hopeless," said Polemo to Aristo, in much 
 disgust, and with some hauteur of manner : " she is 
 too far gone. You should not have brought me to this 
 place." 
 
 Aristo groaned. 
 
 " Shall I," she continued, " worship any but Him ? 
 Shall I say that He whom I see not, whom I seek, is 
 our Jupiter, or Csesar, or the goddess Home ? They 
 are none of them images of this inward guide of mine. 
 
 1 sacrifice to Him alone." 
 
 The two men looked at each other in amazement : 
 one of them in anger. " It's like the demon of So- 
 crates," said Aristo, timidly. 
 
 " I will acknowledge Ca?sar in every fitting way," 
 she repeated ; " but I will not worship him." 
 
 Presently she added, " Polemo, will not that invi- 
 sible Monitor have something to say to all of us, to 
 you, at some future day ? " 
 
 "Spare me! spare me, Callista!" cried Polemo, 
 starting up w^ith a violence unsuited to his station and 
 profession. " Spare my ears, unhappy woman ! — such 
 words have never hitherto entered them. I did not 
 come to be insulted. Poor, blind, hapless, perverse 
 spirit, — I separate myself from you for ever ! Desert, 
 if you will, the majestic, bright, beneficent traditions 
 of your forefathers, and live in this frightful super- 
 stition ! Farewell!" 
 
 He did not seem more pleased with Aristo than 
 with Callista, though Aristo helped him into his litter 
 walked by his side, and did what he could to pro 
 pitiate him. 
 
246 CAILISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 If there is a state of mind utterly forlorn, it i? that in 
 which we left the poor prisoner after Polemo had!, 
 departed. She was neither a Christian, nor was she 
 not. She was in the midway region of inquiry, which 
 as surely takes time to pass over, except there be some 
 almost miraculous interference, as it takes timiC to 
 walk from place to place. You see a person coming 
 towards you, and you say, impatiently, " AVhy don't 
 you come faster? — why are you not here already?" 
 "Why ? — because it takes thne. To see that heathen- 
 ism is false, — to see that Christianity is true, — are 
 two acts, and involve two processes. They may 
 indeed be united, and the truth may supplant the 
 error ; but they may not. Callista obeyed, as far as 
 truth was brought home to her. She saw the 
 vanity of idols before she had faith in Him who came 
 to destroy them. She could safely say, "I discard 
 Jupiter:" she could not say, "I am a Christian." 
 Besides, what did she know of Christians ? How did 
 she know that they would admit her, if she wished it ? 
 They were a secret society, with an election, an initi- 
 ation, and oaths ; — not a mere philosophical school, or 
 a profession of opinion, open to any individual. If 
 they were the good people that she fancied them to 
 be, — and if they were not, she would not think of them 
 at all, — they were not likely to accept of her. 
 
 Still, though we may account for her conduct, its 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 247 
 
 issue was not, on that account, the less painful. She 
 had neither the promise of this world, nor of the next, 
 and was losing earth without gaining heaven. Our 
 Lord is reported to have said, " Be ye good money- 
 changers?" Poor Callista did not know how to turn 
 herself to account. It had been so all through her 
 short life. She had ardent affections, and keen sensi- 
 bilities, and high aspirations ; but she was not for- 
 tunate in the application of them. She had put her- 
 self into her brother's hands, and had let him direct 
 her course. It could not be expected that he would 
 be very different from the world. We are cautioned 
 against " rejoicing in our youth." Aristo rejoiced in 
 his without restraint ; and he made his sister rejoice 
 in hers, if enjoyment it was. lie himself found in the 
 pleasures he pointed out a banquet of fruits : — she 
 dust and ashes. And so she went on ; not changing 
 her life from habit, from the captivity of nature, but 
 weary, disappointed, fastidious, hungry, yet not know- 
 ing what she would have ; yearning after something 
 she did not well know what. And as heretofore she 
 had cast her lot with the world, yet had received no 
 price for her adhesion, so now she had bid it farewell, 
 yet had nothing to take in its place. 
 
 As to lier brother, after the visit of Polemo, he got 
 more and more annoyed — angry rather than distressed, 
 and angry with her. One more opportunity occurred 
 of her release, and it was the last effort he made to 
 move her. Cornelius, in spite of his pompousness, 
 had acted the part of a real friend. He wrote from 
 Carthage, that he had happily succeeded in his appli- 
 cation to government, and, diflicult and unusual as was 
 the grace, had obtained her release. He sent the 
 formal documents for carrying it through the court, 
 and gained the eager benediction of the excitable 
 Aristo. He rushed with the parchments to the magis- 
 trates, who recognized them as suiScient, and got an 
 order for admission to her room. 
 
 "Joy, my dearest," he cried; "you are free! We 
 
248 CALLISTA ; 
 
 will leave tliis loathsome country by tlie first Tcssel. 
 I have seen the magistrates already." 
 
 The colour came into her wan face, she clasped her 
 hands together, and looked earnestly at Aristo. He 
 proceeded to explain the process of liberation. She 
 would not be called on to sacrifice, but must sign a 
 writing to the eff'ect that she had done so, and there 
 would be an end of the whole matter. On the first 
 statement she saw no difiiculty in the proposal, and 
 started up in animation. Presently her countenance 
 fell ; how could she sa}^ that she had done what it 
 was treason to her inward Gruide to do ? What was 
 the difference between acknowledging a blasphemy by 
 a signature or by incense ? She smiled sorrowfully at 
 him, shook her head, and lay down again upon her 
 rushes. She had anticipated the Church's judgment 
 on the case of the Lihellcdici. 
 
 Aristo could not at first believe he heard aright, 
 that she refused to be saved by what seemed to him a 
 matter of legal form ; and his anger grew so high as to 
 eclipse and to shake his aff'ection. " Lost girl," he 
 cried, '• I abandon you to the Euries !" and he shook 
 his clenched hand at her. He turned away, and said 
 he would never see her again, and he kept his word. 
 He never came again. He took refuge, with less 
 restraint than was usual to him, in such pleasures as 
 the city could supply, and strove to drive his sister 
 from his mind by dissipation. He mixed in the games 
 of the Campus Martins under the shadow of the 
 mountain ; took part with the revellers in the Eorum, 
 and ended the evening at the Thermae. Sometimes 
 the image of dear Callista, as once she looked, 
 would rush into his mind with a force which would 
 not be denied, and he would weep for a whole 
 night. 
 
 At length he determined to destroy himself, after 
 the example of so many great men. He gave a sump- 
 tuous entertainment, expending his means upon it, 
 and invited his friends to partake of it. It passed off 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIED CENTUET. 249 
 
 with great gaiety ; nothing was wanting to make it 
 equal to an occasion so special and singular. He 
 disclosed to his guests his purpose, and they applauded : 
 the last libations were made—the revellers departed — 
 the lights were extinguished. Aristo disappeared that 
 night : Sicca never saw him again. After some time 
 it was found that he was at Carthage, and he had been 
 provident enough to take with him some of his best 
 working tools, and some specimens of his own and poor 
 Callista's skill. 
 
 Strange to say, Jucundus pi^oved a truer friend to 
 the poor girl than her brother. In spite of his selfish- 
 ness and hatred of Christians, he was considerably 
 affected as her case got more and more serious, and it 
 became evident that only one answer could be returned 
 to the magistrates from Carthage. He was quite easy 
 about Agellius, Avho had, as he considered, successfully 
 made oft" with himself, and he was reconciled to the 
 thought of never seeing him again. Had it not been 
 for this, one might have fancied that some lurking 
 anxiety about the fate of his nephew might have kept 
 alive the fidget which Callista's dismal situation gave 
 him, for the philosopher tells us, that pity always has 
 something in it of self; but, under the circumstances, 
 it would be rash judgment to have any such suspicion 
 of his motives. Pie was not a cruel man : even the 
 " hoaiy-headed Pabius," or Cyprian, or others whom he 
 so roundly abused, would have found, when it came to 
 the point, that his bluster was his worst weapon against 
 them ; at any rate he had enough of " the milk of 
 human nature" to feel considerable distress about 
 that idiotic Callista. 
 
 Yet what could he do ? He might as well stop 
 the passage of the sun, as the movements of mighty 
 Eome, and a rescript would be coming to a certainty 
 in due time from Carthage, and would just say one 
 thing, which would forthwith be passing into the 
 region of fact. He had no one to consult ; and to 
 tell the truth, Callista's fate was more than acquiesced 
 in by the public of Sicca. Her death seemed a solu- 
 
50 CALLISTA ; 
 
 tion of various perplexities and troubles into which 
 the edict had brought them; it would be pur- 
 chasing the praise of loyalty cheaply. Moreover, 
 there were sets of persons actuall}^ hostile to her 
 and her brother ; the companies of statuaries, lapida- 
 ries, aud goldsmiths, were jealous of foreign artists, 
 like them, who showed contempt for Africa, and were 
 acquainted, or rather intimate, with many of the 
 higher classes, and even high personages in the place. 
 AVell, but could not some of those great people help 
 her now ? His mind glanced towards Calphurnius, 
 whom he had heard of as in some way or other pro- 
 tecting her on the evening of the riot, and to him he 
 determined to betake himself. 
 
 Calphurnius and the soldiery were still iu high 
 dudgeon with the populace of Sicca, displeased with 
 the magistrates, and full of sympathy for Callista. 
 Jucundus opened his mind fully to the tribune, and 
 persuaded him to take him to Septimius, his military 
 superior, and in the presence of the latter many good 
 words were uttered both by Calphurnius and Jucundus. 
 Jucundus gave it as his opinion that it was a very 
 great mistake to strike at any but the leaders of the 
 Christian sect ; he quoted the story of King Tarquin 
 and the poppies, and assured the great man that it was 
 what he had always said and always prophesied, and 
 that, depend upon it, it was a great mistake not to 
 catch Cyprianus. 
 
 " The strong arm of the law," he said, " should not, 
 on tlie other hand, be put forth against such butterflies 
 as this Callista, a girl, who, he knew from her brother, 
 had not yet seen eighteen summers. What harm 
 could such a poor helpless thing possibly do ? She 
 could not defend herself, much less attack any body 
 else. No," he continued, " your proper policy with 
 these absurd people is a smiling face and an open 
 hand. EecoUect the fable of the sun and the wind; 
 which made the traveller lay aside his cloak ? Do you 
 fall in with some sour-visaged, stiff-backed worshipper 
 of the Furies ? fill his cup for him, crown his head 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTUET. 251 
 
 with flowers, bring in the flute-women. Observe 
 him — he relaxes ; a smile spreads on his countenance ; 
 he laughs at a jest ; ' captus est ; habet^ :' he pours a 
 libation. Grreat Jove has conquered ; he is loyal to 
 Eome ; what can you desire more ? But beat him, 
 kick him, starve him, turn him out of doors ; and you 
 have a natural enemy to do you a mischief whenever 
 he can." 
 
 Calphurnius took his own line, and a simple one. 
 "If it was some vile slave or scoundrel African," he 
 said, " no harm would have been done ; but, by Jupiter 
 Tonans, it's a Greek girl, who sings like a Muse, 
 dances like a Grace, and spouts verses like Minerva. 
 'Twould be sacrilege to touch a hair of her head ; and 
 we forsooth are to let these cowardly dogs of magis- 
 trates entrap Fortunianus at Carthage into this sole- 
 cism." 
 
 Septimius said nothing, as became a man in office ; 
 but he came to an understaijding with his visitors. It 
 was plain that the Duumvirs of Sicca had no legal cus- 
 tody of Callista ; in a criminal matter she might seem to 
 fall under the jurisdiction of the military ; and Cal- 
 phurnius gained leave to claim his right at the proper 
 moment. The rest of his plan the tribune kept to 
 himself, nor did Septimius wish to know it. He 
 intended to march a guard into the prison shortly 
 before Callista was brought out for execution, and 
 then to make it believed that she had died under the 
 horrors of the Barathrum. The corpse of another 
 woman could without difficulty be found to be her re- 
 presentative, and she herself would be carried off to 
 the camp. 
 
 Meanwhile, to return to the prisoner herself, what 
 was the consolation, what the occupation of Callista 
 in this waiting time, ere the Proconsul had sent his 
 answer ? Strange to say, and, we suppose, from a 
 
 1 "Heisliit." 
 
252 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 einful way wardness in her, she had, up to this moment, 
 neglected to avail herself of a treasure, which by a 
 rare favour had been put into her possession. A small 
 parchment, carefully written, elaborately adorned, lay 
 in her bosom, which miglit already have been the 
 remedy of many a perplexity, many a woe. It is 
 difficult to say under what feelings she had been 
 reluctant to open the Holy Gospel, which Caecilius 
 had intrusted to her care. Whether she was so low 
 and despondent that she could not make the effort, or 
 whether she feared to convince herself further, or 
 whether she professed to be Avaiting for some calmer 
 time, as if that were possible ; whether her unwilling- 
 ness was that which makes sick people so averse to 
 eating, or to remedies which they know would be use- 
 ful to them, caunot well be determined ; but there are 
 many of us who may be able, from parallel instances 
 of infirmity, to enter into her state of mind, which led 
 her at least to procrastinate what she might do any 
 minute. However, now 'left absolutely to herself, 
 Aristo gone, and the answer of the government to the 
 magistracy not having yet come, she recurred to the 
 parchment, and to the Bishop's words, which ran " Here 
 you will see who it is we love," or language to that effect. 
 It was tightly lodged under her girdle, and so had 
 escaped in the confusion of that terrible evening. She 
 opened it at length, and read. 
 
 It was the writing of a provincial Greek ; elegant 
 however, and marked with that simplicity which was 
 to her taste the elementary idea of a classic author. 
 It was addressed to one Theophilus, and professed to 
 be a carefully digested and verified account of events 
 which had been already attempted by others. She 
 read a few paragraphs, and became interested, and in 
 no long time she was absorbed in the volume. When 
 she had once taken it up, she did not lay it down. 
 Even at other times she would have prized it, but now, 
 when she was so desolate and lonely, it was simply a 
 gift from an unseen world. It opened a view of a new 
 
A SKETCH OF THE TniED CENTUET. 253 
 
 state and community of beings, which only seemed too 
 beautiful to be possible. But not into a new state of 
 things alone, but into tlie presence of One who was 
 simply distinct and removed from any thing tliat she 
 had, in her most imaginative moments, ever depicted 
 to her mind as ideal perfection. Here was that to 
 which her intellect tended, though that intellect could 
 not frame it. It could approve and acknowledge 
 when set before it what it could not originate. Here 
 was He who spoke to her in her conscience ; whose 
 Yoiee she heard, whose Person she was seeking for. 
 Here was He who kindled a warmth on the cheek of 
 both Chione and Agellius. That Image sank deep 
 into her ; she felt it to be a reality. She said to her- 
 self, "This is no poet's dream ; it is the delineation of 
 a real individual. There is too much truth, and nature, 
 and life, and exactness about it, to be any thing else." 
 Yet she shrunk from it ; it made her feel her own 
 difference from it, and a feeling of humiliation came 
 upon her mind, such as she never had had before. She 
 began to despise herself more thoroughly day by day; 
 yet she recollected various passages in the history 
 which reassured her amid her self-abasement, espe- 
 cially that of His tenderness and love for the poor 
 girl at the feast, who would anoint His feet ; and the 
 full tears stood in her eyes, and she fancied she was 
 that sinful child, and that He did not repel her. 
 
 O what a new world of thought she had entered ! 
 it occupied her mind from its very novelty. Every 
 thing looked dull and dim by the side of it ; her 
 brother had ever been dinning into her ears that 
 maxim of the heathen, "Enjoy the present, trust 
 nothing to the future." She indeed could not enjoy 
 the present with tliat relish which he wished, and she 
 had not any trust in the future either ; but this 
 volume spoke a different doctrine. There she learned 
 the very opposite to what Aristo taught, viz. that 
 the present must be sacrificed for the future ; that 
 what is seen must give way to what is believed. Nay 
 
254 CALLISTA ; 
 
 more, she drank in tlie teaching which at first seemed 
 so paradoxical, that even present happiness and pre- 
 sent greatness lie in relinquishing what at first sight 
 seems to promise them ; that the way to true pleasure 
 is, not through self-indulgence, but through mortifica- 
 tion ; that the way to power is weakness, the way to 
 success failure, the way to wisdom foolishness, the 
 way to glory dishonour. She saw that there was a 
 higher beauty than that which the order and harmony 
 of the natural world revealed, and a deeper peace and 
 calm than that which the exercise wliether of the 
 intellect or of the purest human aftection can supply. 
 She now began to understand that strange, unearthly 
 composure, which had struck her in Chione, Agel- 
 lius, and Csecilius ; she understood that they were de- 
 tached from earth, not merely because they had not the 
 possession, nor the natural love of its gifts, but be- 
 cause they possessed a higher blessing already, which 
 they loved above every thing else. Thus, by degrees, 
 Callista came to walk by a new philosophy ; and had 
 ideas, and principles, and recognized relations and 
 aims, and felt the force of arguments, to which before 
 she was an utter stranger. Life and death, action 
 and suftering, fortunes and abilities, all had now a new 
 meaning and application. As the skies speak dif- 
 ferently to the philosopher and the peasant, as a book 
 of poems to the imaginative and the cold and narrow 
 intellect, so now she saw her being, her history, her 
 present condition, her future in a new light, which no 
 one else could share with her. But the ruling sove- 
 reign thought of the whole was He who exemplified 
 all this wonderful philosophy in Himself. 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTITEY. 255 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 There were those, however, whom Callista could 
 understand, and who could understand her; there 
 were those who, while Aristo, Cornelius, Jucundus, 
 and Poleino were moving in her behalf, were interest- 
 ing themselves also, and in a more eifectual way. Agel- 
 lius bad joined Csecilius, and, if in no other way, by 
 his mouth came to the latter and his companions, the 
 news of her imprisonment. On the morning that 
 Agellius had been so strangely let out of confinement- 
 by his brother, and found himself seated at the street- 
 door, with his tunic on his arm and his boots on the 
 ground before him, his first business was to recollect 
 where he was, and to dispose of those articles of dress 
 according to their respective uses. "What should he do 
 with himself, was of course his second thought. He 
 could not stay there long without encountering the 
 early risers of Sicca, the gates being already open. 
 To attempt to find out where Callista was, and then to 
 see her or rescue her, would have ended at once in 
 his own capture. To go to his own farm would have 
 been nearly as dangerous, and would have been more 
 unmeaning. Caecilius too had said, that they were 
 not long to be separated, and had given him directions 
 for finding him. 
 
 Immediately then he made his way to one of the 
 eastern gates, which led to Thibursicumbur. There 
 was indeed no time to be lost, as he soon had indica- 
 
256 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 tioiis ; he met several men atIio knew tilm hj sight, 
 and one of the apparitors of the Duumviri, who happily 
 did not. An apostate Christian, whose zeal for the 
 government was notorious, passed him and looked 
 back after him. However, he would soon be out of 
 pursuit, if he had the start of them until the sun got 
 round the mountains he was seeking. He walked on 
 through a series of rocky and barren hills, till he got 
 some way past the second milestone. Before he had 
 reached the third he had entered a defile in the moun- 
 tains. Perpendicular rocks rose on each side of him, 
 and the level road, reaching from rock to rock, was 
 not above thirty feet across. He felt that if he was pur- 
 sued here, there was no escape. The third milestone 
 passed, he counted out his thousand steps, as Csecilius 
 had instructed him. By this time the road- had left 
 the stony bottom, and was rising up the side of the 
 precipice. Brushwood and dwarf pines covered it, 
 mingled with a few olives and caroubas. He said 
 out his seven pater uosters, and looked around. He 
 had just passed a goatherd, and they looked hard at 
 each other. Agellius wished him good morning. 
 
 " You are wishing a kid for Bacchus, sir," said the 
 man to him, as he was running his eye over the goats. 
 On Agellius answering in the negative, he said in a 
 clownish way, " He who does not sacrifice to Bacchus, 
 does not sacrifice goats." 
 
 Agellius, bearing in mind Csecilius's directions, saw 
 of course there was something in the words which did 
 not meet the ear, and answered carelessly, " He who 
 does not sacrifice, does not sacrifice to Bacchus." 
 
 "True," said the man, " but perhaps you prefer a 
 lamb for a sacrifice." 
 
 Agellius replied, " If it is the right one ; but the 
 one I mean was slain long since." 
 
 The man, without any change of manner, went on 
 to say that there was an acquaintance of his not far 
 up the rock, who could perhaps satisfy him on the 
 point. He said, "PoUow those wild olives, though 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 257 
 
 the path seems broken, and you will come to him at 
 the nineteenth." 
 
 xlgellius set out, and never was path so untrue to 
 its own threats. It seemed ending in abrupt cliffs 
 every turn, but never fulfilled anticipation ; that is, 
 while he kept to the olive trees. After ascending what 
 was rather a flight of marble steps, washed and po- 
 lished by the winter torrents, than a series of crags, 
 he fulfilled the number of trees, and looked round at 
 the man sitting under it. O the joy and surprise ! it 
 was his old servant Aspar. 
 
 "You are safe, then, Aspar," he said, "and I find 
 you here. what a tender Providence ! " 
 
 "I have taken my stand here, master," returned 
 Aspar, " day after day, since I got here, in hopes of 
 seeing you. I could not get back to you from Jucun- 
 dus's that dreadful morning, and so I made my way 
 here. Your uncle sent for you in my presence, but at 
 the time I did not know what it meant. I was able to 
 escape." 
 
 "And now for Csecilius," said Agellius. 
 
 Behind the olive tree a torrent's bed descended; 
 the descent being so easy, and yet so natural, that art 
 had evidently interfered with nature, yet concealed 
 its interference. After tracing it some yards, they 
 came to a chasm on the opposite side ; and, passing 
 through it, Agellius soon found himself, to his sur- 
 prise, on a bleak open hill, to which the huge moun- 
 tain formed merely a sort oi fagade. Its surface was 
 half rock, half moor, and it was surrounded by preci- 
 pices. It was such a place as some hermit of the 
 middle ao^es might have chosen for his solitude. The 
 two walked briskly across it, and at length came to a 
 low, broad, yawning opening, branching out into se- 
 veral passages whicli, if pursued, would have been 
 found to end in nothing. Aspar, however, made 
 straight for what appeared a dead wall of rock, iu 
 which, on his making a signal, a door, skilfully hidden, 
 "was opened from within, and was shut behind them by 
 
 S 
 
258 CALLISTA ; 
 
 tlie porter. They now stood in a gallery running into 
 the mountain. It was very long, and a stream of cold 
 air came along it. Aspar told him that at the ex- 
 tremity of it they should find Caecilius. 
 
 Agellius was indeed in the vestibule of a remarkable 
 specimen of those caves which had been used for reli- 
 gious purposes, first by the aborigines of the country, 
 then by the Phoenician colonists, and, in the centuries 
 which immediately preceded, for the concealment of 
 the Christians. The passage along which they were 
 proceeding might itself be fitly called a cave, but 
 still it was only one of several natural subterraneans, 
 of difi'erent shapes, and opening into each other. 
 Some of them lay along the face of a ravine, from 
 which they received light and air; and here in one 
 place there were indications of a fortified front. Thej 
 were perfectly dry, though the water had at some 
 remote period filtered through the roof, and had 
 formed pendants and pillars of semi-transparent sta- 
 lactite, of great beauty. It was another and singular 
 advantage that a particular spot in one of the caverns, 
 which bordered on the ravine, was the focus of an 
 immense ear or whispering gallery, such, that what- 
 ever took place in the public road in which the ravine 
 terminated, could be distinctly heard there, and thus 
 they were always kept on guard against the attack of 
 an enemy, if expected. Had either Agellius or Aspar 
 been curious about such matter, the latter miglit have 
 pointed out the place, where a Punic altar once 
 had been discovered, with a sort of tumulus of bones 
 of mice near at hand, that animal coming into the list 
 of victims in the Phoenician worship. 
 
 But the two Christians were engaged, as they 
 walked along the corridor, in other thoughts, than in 
 asking and answering questions about the history of 
 the place of refuge in which they found themselves. 
 We have already remarked on the central position of 
 Sicca for the purpose of missionary work and of retreat 
 in persecution ; such a dwelling in the rocks did but 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIED CENTUET. 259 
 
 increase its advantageousness, and in consequence at 
 this moment many Christians had availed themselves 
 of it. It is an English proverb that three removes 
 are as bad as a fire ; and so great were the perils and 
 the hardships of flight in those times, that it was a 
 question in a merely earthly point of view, whether 
 the risk of being apprehended at home was not a far 
 less evil than those which were certain upon leav- 
 ing it. There was nothing, then, ungenerous in the 
 ecclesiastical rule, that they alone should flee, in per- 
 secution, who were marked out for death, if they 
 stayed. The laity, private families, and the priests on 
 whose ministrations they depended, remained ; bishops, 
 deacons, and what may be called tlie staff" of the epi- 
 scopate, notaries, messengers, seminarists, and ascetics, 
 would disappear from the scene of persecution. 
 
 Agellius learned from his slave that the cave had been 
 known to him from the time he was a boy, and that it 
 was one of the secrets which all who shared it reli- 
 giously observed. Holy men, it seemed, had had in« 
 timations of the present trial for several years past ; 
 and it was the full persuasion of the heads of the 
 Church, that, though it might blow over for a short 
 time, it would recur at intervals for many years, end- 
 ing in a visitation so heavy and long, that the times 
 of Antichrist would seem to have arrived. However, 
 the impression upon their minds was that then would 
 come a millennium, or, in some sort, a reign of the saints 
 upon the earth. That, however, was a date which 
 even Agellius himself, young as he was, would not be 
 likely to reach ; indeed, who could expect to escape, 
 who might not hope to gain, a martyr's death, in the 
 interval, in the series of assaults, between which Chris- 
 tianity had to run the gauntlet ? Aspar said, more- 
 over, "that some martyrs did lie in the chapels within, 
 and that various confessors had ended their days there. 
 At the present time there were representatives, there 
 collected, of a large portion of the Churches of the Pro- 
 consulate. A post, so to call it, went between then;. 
 s2 
 
260 CALLISTA ; 
 
 and Carthage every week, and his friend and father, 
 the bishop of that city, was especially busy in corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 Moreover, Agellius learned that they had many 
 partisans, well-wishers, and sympathizers, about the 
 country, w^hom no one suspected; the families of 
 parents who had conformed to the established wor- 
 ship, nay, sometimes the apostates themselves, and 
 that this was the case in Sicca as well as elsewhere. 
 Eor himself, old and ignorant as he was, the persecu- 
 tion had proved to him an education. He had been 
 brought near great men, and some whom he was con- 
 fident would be martyrs in the event. He had learned 
 a great deal about his religion which he did not know 
 before, and had drank in the spirit of Christianity, 
 with a fulness which he trusted would not turn to his 
 ultimate condemnation. He now too had a conscious- 
 ness of the size and populousness of the Church, of 
 her diffusion, of the promises made to her, of the 
 essential necessity of what seemed to be misfortune, 
 of the episcopal regimen, and of the power and solidity 
 of the see of Peter afar off in Eome, all which know- 
 ledge had made him quite another being. We have 
 put all this into finer language than the good old man 
 used himself, and we have grouped it more exactly, but 
 this is what his words would come to, when explained. 
 
 Coming down to sublunary matters, Aspar said the 
 cave was well provisioned ; they had bread, oil, figs, 
 dried grapes, and wine. They had vessels and vest- 
 ments for the Holy Sacrifice. Their serious want 
 was a dearth of water at that season, but they relied 
 on Divine Providence to give them by miracle, if in no 
 other way, a supply. The place was piercingly cold 
 too in the winter. 
 
 By this time they had gained the end of the long 
 gallery, and passed through a second apartment, when 
 suddenly the sounds of the ecclesiastical chant burst 
 on the ear of Agellius. How strange, how transport- 
 ing to him ! he was almost for the first time coming 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUET. 26] 
 
 home to his father's house, though he had been a 
 Christiau from a chikl, and never, as he trusted, to 
 leave it, now that it was found. He did not know how 
 to behave himself, nor indeed where to go. Aspar 
 conducted him into the seats set apart for the faithful ; 
 he knelt down and burst into tears. 
 
 It M^as about the third hour, the hour at which the 
 Paraclete originally descended upon the Apostles, and 
 which, when times of persecution w^ere passed, was 
 appointed in the AYest for the solemn mass of the day. 
 In that early age indeed the time of the solemnity 
 was generally midnight, in order to elude observation ; 
 but even then such an hour was considered of tem- 
 porary arrangement. Pope Telesphorus is said to 
 have prescribed the hour, afterwards in use, as early 
 even as the second century ; and in a place of such 
 quiet and security as the cavern in which we just now 
 find ourselves, there was no reason wdiy it should not 
 be selected. At the lower end of the chapel was a rail 
 extending across it for the greater part of its breadth, 
 when it turned up at right angles on each side towards 
 the altar. The enclosure thus made was the place 
 proper for the faithful, into which Agellius had been 
 introduced, and about fifty persons were collected 
 about him. Where the two side-rails which ran 
 up the chapel ceased, there was a broad step ; and 
 upon it two pulpits, one on each side. Then came a 
 second elevation, carrying the eye onto the extremity 
 of the upper end. 
 
 In the middle of the wall at that upper end is a 
 recess, occupied by a tomb. On the front of it is 
 written the name of some glorious champion of the 
 fiiith who lies there. It is one of the first bishops of 
 Sicca, and the inscription attests that he slept in the 
 Lord under the Emperor Antoninus. Over the 
 sacred relics is a slab, and on that slab the Divine 
 Mysteries are now to be celebrated. At the back is a 
 painting on the wall, very similar to that in Agellius's 
 cottage. The ever-blessed immaculate Mother of God 
 
262 CALLISTA ; 
 
 is exercising her office as tlie advocate of sinners, 
 standing hy the sacrifice as she stood at the cross 
 itself, and oiFering up and applying its infinite merits 
 and incommunicable virtue in union Avitli priest and 
 people. So instinctive in the Christian mind is the 
 principle of decoration, as it may be called, that even 
 in times of sufi^ering, and places of banishment, we see 
 it brought into exercise. IS'ot only is the arch which 
 overspans the altar ornamented with an arabesque pat- 
 tern, but the roof or vault is coloured with paintings. 
 Our Lord is in the centre, with two figures of Moses 
 on each side, on the right unloosing his sandals, on the 
 left striking the rock. Between the centre figure and 
 the altar may be seen the raising of Lazarus ; in the 
 opposite partition the healing of the paralytic ; at the 
 four angles are men and women alternately, in the 
 attitude of prayer. 
 
 At this time the altar-stone was covered with a 
 rich crimson silk, with figures of St. Peter and St. 
 Paul worked in gold upon it, the gift of a pious lady 
 of Carthage. Beyond the altar, but not touching it, 
 was a cross ; and on one side of the altar a sort of 
 basin or j^iscina cut in the rock, with a linen cloth 
 hanging up against it. There were no candles upon 
 the altar itself, but wax lights fixed into silver 
 stands were placed at intervals along the edge of the 
 presbytery or elevation. 
 
 Tiie mass was in behalf of the confessors for the 
 faith then in prison in Carthage ; and the sacred 
 ministers, a few minutes after Agellius's entrance, 
 made their appearance. Tlieir vestments already 
 varied somewhat from the ordinary garments of the 
 day, and bespoke antiquity; and, though not so 
 simply szd generis as they are now, they were so far 
 special, that they were never used on any other occa- 
 sion, but were reserved for the sacred service. The 
 neck was bare, the amice being as yet unknown ; in- 
 stead of the stole was what was called the orarium, a 
 sort of handkerchief resting on the shoulders, and 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIED CENTURY. 263 
 
 falling down on each side. The alb had been the inner 
 garment, or camisium, which in civil nse was retained 
 at night when the other garments were thrown otf, 
 and, as at the present day, it was confined round the 
 waist by a zone or girdle. The maniple was a napkin, 
 supplying the place of a handkerchief; and the 
 chasuble was an ample pcenula, such as was worn by 
 the judges, a cloke enveloping the whole person, 
 round, when spread out, with an, opening in the centre, 
 through which the head might pass. The deacon's 
 dalmatic was much longer than it is now, and the sub- 
 deacon's tunicle resembled the alb. All the vest;nents 
 were of the purest white. 
 
 The mass began by the bishop giving his blessing ; 
 and then the Lector, a man of venerable age, taking the 
 roll called Lectionarium, and proceeding to a pulpit, 
 read the Prophets to the people, much in the way 
 observed among ourselves still on holy Saturday and 
 the vigil of Pentecost. These being finished, the 
 people chanted the first verse of the Gloria Fatri, after 
 which the clergy alternated with the people the Kyrie, 
 pretty much as the custom is now. 
 
 Here a fresh roll was brought to the Lector, then 
 or afterwards called Apostolus, from which he read one 
 of the canonical epistles. A psalm followed, which 
 was sung by the people ; and, after this, the Lector 
 received the JEvangeliarmm, and read a portion of the 
 Gospel, at which lights were lighted, and the people 
 stood. When he had finished, the Lector opened the 
 roll wide, and, turning round, presented it to bishop, 
 clergy, and people to kiss. 
 
 Tlie deacon then cried out, "Ite in pace,catechumeni," 
 " Depart in peace, catechumens;" and then the kiss 
 of peace was passed round, and the people began to sing 
 some Psalms or Hymns. AVhile they were so engaged 
 the deacon received from the acolyte the sindon or 
 corporal, which was of the length of the altar, and 
 perhaps of greater breadth, and spread it upon the 
 sacred table. Next was placed on the sindon the ohlaia, 
 
2G4 CALLISTA ; 
 
 that is, the small loaves, according to the number of 
 comiiiunicants, with the paten, which was large, and 
 a gold chalice, duly prepared. And then the sindon, 
 or corporal, was turned back over them, to cover them 
 as a pall. 
 
 The celebrant then advanced : he stood at the 
 further side of the altar, where the candles are now, 
 with his face to the people, and then began the holy 
 sacrifice. First he incensed the ohiatcc, that is, the 
 loaves and chalice, as an acknowledgment of God's 
 sovereign dominion, and as a token of uplifted prayer to 
 Him . Then the roll of prayers was brought him, while 
 the deacon began what is sometimes called the bidding 
 prayer, being a catalogue of the various subjects for 
 which intercession is to be made, after the manner of the 
 Oremiis diJectissimi, now used on Good Friday. This 
 catalogue included all conditions of men, the conversion 
 oi the world, the exaltation of Holy Church, the main- 
 tenance of the Eoman empire, the due ripening and 
 gathering of the fruits of the earth, and other spiritual 
 and temporal blessings, — subjects very much the same 
 as those which are now called the Pope's intentions. 
 The prayers ended with a special reference to those 
 present, that they might persevere in the Lord even 
 to the end. And then the priest began the Sursmn 
 corda, and said the Sanctus. 
 
 The Canon or Actio seems to have run, in all but a 
 few words, as it does now, and the solemn words of 
 consecration were said secretly. Great stress was 
 laid on the Lord's prayer, which in one sense termi- 
 nated the function. It was said aloud by the people, 
 and when they said " Forgive us our trespasses," they 
 beat their breasts. 
 
 It is not wonderful that Agellius, assisting for 
 almost the first time at this wonderful solemnity, 
 should have noted every thing as it occurred ; and we 
 must be considered as giving our account of it from 
 his mouth. 
 
 It needs not to enlarge on the joy of the meeting 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 265 
 
 which followed between Caecilius and his young 
 penitent. " O my fiither," he said, "I come to thee, 
 never to leave thee, to be thy dntiful servant, and to 
 be trained by thee after the pattern of Him who made 
 thee what thou art. AVonderful things have hap- 
 pened ; Callista is in prison on the charge of Chris- 
 tianity ; I was in a sort of prison myself, or what was 
 worse for my soul ; and Juba, my brother, in the 
 strangest of ways, has this morning let me out. IShall 
 she not be saved, my father, in God's own way, as 
 well as I ? At least we can all pray for her ; but surely 
 we can do more — so precious a soul must not be left 
 to herself and the world. If she has the trials, she 
 may claim the blessings of a Christian. Is she to go 
 back to heathenism ? Is she, alas ! to suffer without 
 baptism ? Shall we not hazard death to bestow on 
 her that grace?" 
 
266 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 "We iiave already had occasion to mention tliat tliere 
 were many secret well-wishers, or at least protectors, 
 of Christians, as in the world at large, so also in Sicca. 
 There were many persons who had received benefits 
 from their charity, and- had experience of the scan- 
 dalous falsehood of the charges now circidated 
 against them. Others would feel a generosity towards 
 a cruelly persecuted body ; others, iitterly dead to the 
 subject of religion, or rather believing all religions to 
 be impostures, would ngt allow it to be assumed that 
 only one was worthy of bad treatment. Others liked 
 what they heard of the religion itself, and thought 
 there was truth in it, though it had no claim to a 
 monopoly of it. Others felt it to be true, but shrank 
 from the consequences of openly embracing it. 
 Others, who had apostatized through fear of the 
 executioner, intended to come back to it at the last. 
 It must be added that in the African Church confessors 
 in prison had, or were considered to have, the remark- 
 able privilege of gaining the public forgiveness of the 
 Church for those who had lapsed ; it was an object 
 then, for all those who, being in that miserable case, 
 wished some day to be restored, to gain their promise 
 of assistance, or their good will. To these reasons 
 was added, in Callista's case, the interest which natu- 
 rally attached to a woman, young and defenceless. 
 The burning sun of Africa is at the height of its power. 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 2G7 
 
 The population is prostrated by heat, by scarcity, by 
 pestilence, and by the decimation whicli their riot 
 brought upon them. They care neither for Chris- 
 tianity, nor for any thiug else just now. They lie in 
 tlie porticoes, in the caverns under the city, in the 
 baths. They are more alive at niglit. The apparitor, 
 in whose dwelling Callista was lodged, who was himself 
 once a Christian, lies in the shade of the great door- 
 way, into which his rooms opened, asleep, or stupi- 
 fied. Two men make their appearance about two 
 hours before sunset, and demand admittance to Cal- 
 lista. The jailor asks if they are not the two Greeks, 
 her brother and the rhetorician, who had visited her 
 before. The junior of the strangers drops a purse 
 heavy with coin into his lap, and passes on with his 
 companion. When the mind is intent on great sub- 
 jects or aims, heat and cold, hunger and thirst, lose 
 their power of enfeebling it ; thus perhaps we must 
 account for the energy now displayed both by the two 
 ecclesiastics and by Callista herself 
 
 She too thought it was the unwelcome philoso- 
 pher come again ; she gave a s|;art and a cry of delight 
 when she saw it vv^as Csecilius. " IMy father," she 
 said, '• I want to be a Cln-istian, if I may ; He came to 
 save the lost sheep. I have learnt such things from 
 this book — let me give it you while I can. I am not 
 long for this world. Give me Him who spoke so 
 kindly to that woman. Take from me my load of sin, 
 and then 1 will gladly go." She knelt at his feet, and 
 gave the roll of parchment into his hand. 
 
 " Eise, and sit," he answered ; "let us think calmly 
 over the matter." 
 
 " I am ready," she insisted. " Deny me not my 
 wish when time is so urgent, — if I may have it." 
 
 "Sit down calmly," he said again; "I am not 
 refusing you, but I wish to know about you." He 
 could hardly keep from tears, of pain, or of joy, or of 
 both, when he saw the great change which trial had 
 
268 CALLISTA ; 
 
 wrouglit in her. AVhat touclied him most was the 
 utter disappearance of that majesty of mien, wliich 
 once was hers, a gift, so beautiful, so unsuitable to fallen 
 man. There was instead a frank humility, a simplicity 
 without concealment, an unresisting meekness, which 
 seemed as if it would enable her, if trampled on, to 
 smile and to kiss the feet that insulted her. She had 
 lost every vestige of what the world worships under 
 the titles of proper pride and self-respect. Callista 
 was now living, not in the thought of herself, but of 
 Another. 
 
 " God has been very good to you," he continued; 
 "but in the volume you have returned to me He bids 
 us reckon the charges. Can you drink of His chalice ? 
 HecoUect what is before you." 
 
 She still continued kneeling, with a touching earn- 
 estness of face and demeanour, and with her hands 
 crossed upon her breast. 
 
 " I have reckoned," she replied ; " heaven and hell: 
 I prefer heaven." 
 
 " You are on earth," said C^ecihus, " not in heaven 
 or hell. You must beaj*the pangs of earth before you 
 drink the blessedness of heaven." 
 
 " He has given me the firm purpose," she said, " to 
 gain heaven, to escape hell ; and He will give me too 
 the power." 
 
 "Ah, Callista!" he answered, in a voice broken with 
 distress, " you know not what you will have to bear if 
 you join yourself to Him." 
 
 " He has done great things for me already ; I am 
 wonderfully changed ; I am not what I was. He will 
 do more still." 
 
 "Alas, my child !" said Csecilius, " that feeble frame, 
 ah ! how will it bear the strong iron, or tlie keen 
 flame, or the ruthless beast ? My child, what do / 
 feel, who am free, thus handing you over to be the 
 sport of the evil one ?" 
 
 "leather, I have chosen Him," she answered, "not 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTURY. 269 ~ 
 
 hastily, but on deliberation. I believe Him most 
 absolutely. Keep me not from Him ; give Him to 
 me, if I may ask it ; give me my Love." 
 
 Presently slie added, " I have never forgotten those 
 words of yours since you used them ; ' Amor mens 
 crucifixus est.' " 
 
 She began again, " I will be a Christian : give me 
 my place among them. Give me my place at the feet 
 of Jesus, Son of Mary, my God. I wish to love Him. 
 I think I can love Him. Make me His." 
 
 " He has loved you from eternity," said C?ecilius, 
 "and therefore you are now beginning to love Him." 
 
 She covered her eyes with her hands, and remained 
 in profound meditation. " I am very ignorant — very 
 sinful," she said at length ; " but one thing I know, 
 that there is but One to love in the whole world, and 
 I wish to love Him. I surrender myself to Him, if 
 He Avill take me ; and He«hall teach me about Him- 
 self." 
 
 " The angry multitude, their fierce voices, the brutal 
 executioner, the prison, the torture, the slow, painful 
 death." . . . He was speaking, not to her, but to 
 himself. She was calm, in spite of her fervour ; but 
 he could not contain himself. His heart melted within 
 him ; he felt like Abraham, lifting up his hand to 
 slay his child. 
 
 "Time passes," she said; "what may happen? you 
 may be discovered. But, perhaps," she added, sud- 
 denly changing her tone, " it is a matter of long initia- 
 tion. "Woe is me!" 
 
 "We must gird ourselves to the work, Victor," he 
 said to his deacon who was with him. Caecilius fell 
 back, and sat down, and Victor came forward. He 
 formally instructed her so far as the circumstances 
 allowed. Nor for baptism only, but for confirmation, 
 and Holy Eucharist ; for Ca?cilius determined to give 
 her all three sacraments at once. 
 
 It was a sight for angels to look down upon, and 
 they did ; when the poor child, rich in this world's 
 
270 CALLISTA ; 
 
 gifi3, but poor in those of eternity, knelt down to 
 receive that sacred stream upon her brow, which fell 
 upon her, with almost sensible sweetness, and suddenly 
 produced a serenity diiferent in kind from any thing 
 she had ever before even had the power of conceiving. 
 
 The bishop gave confirmation, and then the viati- 
 cum. It was her first and last communion ; in a few 
 days she renewed it, or rather completed it under the 
 very Face and Eorm of Him whom she now believed 
 without seeing. 
 
 "Earewell, my dearest of children," said Csecilius, 
 " till the hour when we both meet before the throne of 
 God. A few sharp pangs, which you can count and 
 measure, and all will be well. You will be carried 
 through joyously, and like a conqueror. I know it. 
 You could face the prospect before you were a Chris- 
 tian, and you will be equal to the actual trial, now 
 that you are." • 
 
 " jN'ever fear me, father," she said, in a clear low 
 voice. The bishop and his deacon left the prison. 
 
 The sun had all but set, when Csecilius and Yictor 
 passed the city gate ; and it was more than twilight 
 as they crossed the wild hills leading to the precipitous 
 pass. Evil men were not their only peril in this 
 work of charity. They were in a place of danger from 
 wild beasts in these lone wastes, and, the heathen would 
 have added, from bad spirits. Bad spirits Csecilius 
 recognized too ; but he would not have granted 
 that they were perilous. The two went forward, 
 saying prayers lowly, and singing psalms, when a 
 sudden cry was heard, and a strong, tall form rushed 
 past them. It might be some robber of the wild, or 
 dangerous outcast, or savage fanatic, who knew and 
 hated their religion ; however, while they stopped and 
 looked, he had come, and he was gone. But he came 
 again, more slowly ; and from his remarkable shape 
 Ca^cilius saw that it was the brother of Agellius. He 
 said, " Juba :" Juba started back, and stood at a dis- 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 271 
 
 tance. Csecilius held out bis hand, and called him 
 on, again mentioning his name. The poor fellow 
 came nearer: Ccecilius's day's work was not at an 
 end. 
 
 Since we last heard of him, Juba had dwelt in the 
 mountainous tract over which the two Christians were 
 now passing ; roaming to and fro, or beating himself 
 in idle fuiy against the adamantine rocks, and fighting 
 with the stern necessity of the elements. How he 
 was sustained, can hardly be guessed, unless the 
 impulse, which led him on the first accession of his 
 fearful malady, to fly upon the beasts of the desert, 
 served him here also. Eoots too and fruits were 
 scattered over the wild; and still more so in the 
 ravines, wherever any quantity of soil had been accu- 
 mulated. Alas ! had the daylight lasted, in him too, 
 as well as in Callista. Csecilius would have, found 
 changes, but of a very difterent nature ; yet even in 
 him he would have seen a change for the better, for 
 that old awful expression of pride and defiance was 
 gone. AVhat was the use of parading a self-will, which 
 every moment of his life belied ? His actions, his 
 words, his hands, his lips, his feet, his place of abode, 
 his daily course, were in the dominion of another, who 
 inexorably ruled him. It was not the gentle influence 
 which draws and persuades, it was not the power 
 which can be propitiated by prayer ; it was a tyranny 
 which acted without reaction, energetic as mind, 
 and impenetrable as matter. 
 
 "Juba," said Crecilius a third time. The maniac 
 came nearer, and then again suddenly retreated. He 
 stood at a short distance from Csecilius, as if afraid to 
 come on, and cried out, tossing his hands wildly, 
 " Away, black hypocrite, come not near me ! Away, 
 hound of a priest, cross not my path, lest I tear you 
 to shreds!" Such visitations were no novelties to 
 Csecilius ; he raised his hand and made the sign of 
 the cross, then he said, " Come." Juba advanced, 
 shrieked, and used some terrible words, and rushed 
 
272 CALLISTA ; 
 
 upon Csecilius, as if he would treat him as he had 
 treated the savage wolf. " Come ?" he cried, " yes, I 
 come !" and Victor ran up, fearing his teeth would be 
 in Caecilius's throat, if he delayed longer. The latter 
 stood his ground, quailing neither in eye nor in limb ; 
 he made the sign of the cross a second time ; and, in 
 spite of a manifest antagonism within him, the stricken 
 youth, with horrid cries, came dancing after him. 
 
 Thus they proceeded, with some signs of insurrection 
 from time to time on Juba's part, but with a successful 
 reduction of it as often, on the part of Csecilius, till 
 they got to the ascent by the olive trees, where careful 
 walking was necessary. Then Caecilius turned round, 
 and beckoned him. He came. He said, "Kneel 
 down." He knelt down. Csecilius put his hand on his 
 head, saying to him, " EoUow me close, and without 
 any disturbance." The three pursued their journey, 
 and all arrived safe at the cavern. There Csecilius 
 gave Juba in charge to Eomanus, who had been en- 
 trusted with the energumens at Carthage. 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIIID CENTURY. 273 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Had the imperial edict been acted on by the magis- 
 trates of Sicca, without reference to Carthage, it is not 
 easy to suppose that Callista would have persevered in 
 her refusal to commit the act of idolatry required o 
 her. But, to speak of second causes, the hesitation of 
 her judges was her salvation. Once baptized, there 
 was no reason she should desire any further delay of 
 her conflict. Come it must, and come it did. AVhile 
 Csecilius was placing her beyond danger, the rescript 
 of the Proconsul had been received at the office of the 
 Duumvirs. 
 
 The absence of the Proconsul from Carthage had 
 been the cause of the delay ; and then, some investi- 
 gation was needed to understand the relation of Cal- 
 lista's seizure to the riot on the one hand, and to the 
 strong act of the military on the other, in quelling it. 
 It was thought that something or other might come to 
 light to account for the anomalous and unaccountable 
 position which she had taken up. The imperial govern- 
 ment considered it had now a clear view of her case, 
 and its orders were distinct and peremptory. Chris- 
 tianity was to cease to be. It was a subtle foe, — sap- 
 ping the vitals of the state. Home must perish, or 
 this illegal association. Such evasions as Callista had 
 used, were but instances of its craft. Its treason lay, 
 not in its being Christianity, but in its not sacrificing 
 to the gods of Eome. Callista was but throwing dust 
 
274 CALL13TA; 
 
 in their eyes. There had been no blow struck against 
 the treason in inland Africa. "Women had often been 
 the most dangerous of conspirators. As she was a 
 stranger, there was more probability of her connexion 
 with secret societies, and also less inconvenience in her 
 execution. AVhatever happened, she was to be got rid 
 of: but first her resolution was to be broken, for the 
 sake of the example. Eirst, let her be brought before 
 t'le tribunal and threatened : then thrust into the 
 Tullianuin ; then put upon the rack, and returned to 
 prison ; then scorched over a slow fire ; last of all, 
 beheaded, and left for beasts of prey. She would 
 sML-rifice ere the last stage was reached. When she 
 had given way, let her be given up to the gladiators. 
 The message ended by saying that the Proconsular 
 Procurator, who came by the same carriages, would 
 preside at the process. 
 
 O wisdom of the world ! and strength of the world ! 
 what are you when matched beside the foolishness and 
 tiie weakness of the Christian ? You are great in 
 resources, manifold in methods, hopeful in prospects ; 
 but one thing you have not, — and that is peace. You 
 are always tumultuous, restless, apprehensive. You 
 have nothing you can rely upon. You have no rock 
 under your feet. But the humblest, feeblest Christian 
 has that which is impossible to you. Callista had once 
 felt the misery of maladies akin to yours. She had 
 passed through doubt, anxiety, perplexity, despondency, 
 passion ; but now she was in peace. Now she feared 
 the torture or the flame as little as the breeze which 
 arose at nightfall, or the busy chatter of the grass- 
 hoppers at the noonday. Nay, rather, she did not 
 think of torture and death at all, but was possessed by 
 a peace which bore her up, as if bodily, on its mighty 
 wings. For hours she remained on her knees, after 
 Ca?cilius left her : then she lay down on her rushes 
 and slept her last mortal sleep. 
 
 She slept sound ; she dreamed. She thought she 
 was no longer in Africa, but in her own Greece, more 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CENTUllY. 275 
 
 Bunny and bright than before ; but the inhabitants 
 were gone. Its majestic mountains, its rich plains, its 
 expanse of waters, all silent : no one to converse with, 
 no one to sympathize with. And, as she wandered on 
 and wondered, suddenly its face changed, and its co- 
 lours were illuminated tenfold by a heavenly glory, 
 and each hue upon the scene was of a beauty she had 
 never known, and seemed strangely to aifect all her 
 senses at once, being fragrance and music, as well 
 as light. And there came out of the grottos, and 
 glens, and woods, and out of the seas, myriads of 
 bright images, whose forms she could not discern; 
 and these came all around her, and became a sort of 
 scene or landscape, which she could not have described 
 in words, as if it were a world of spirits, not of matter. 
 And as she gazed, she thought she saw before her a 
 well-known face, only glorified. She, who had been a 
 slave, now was arrayed more brilliantly than an orien- 
 tal queen ; aiid she looked at Callista with a smile so 
 sweet, that Callista felt she could but dance to it. 
 
 And as she looked more earnestly, doubting whether 
 she should begin or not, the face changed, and now 
 was more marvellous still. It had an innocence in its 
 look, and also a tenderness, which bespoke b#h Maid 
 and Mother, and so transported Callista, that she must 
 needs advance towards her, out of love and reverence. 
 And the Lady seemed to make signs of encourage- 
 ment : so she began a solemn measure, unlike all 
 dances of earth, with hands and feet, serenely moving 
 on towards what she heard some of them call a great 
 action and a glorious consummation, though she did not 
 know what they meant. At length she was fain to 
 sing as well as dance ; and her M'ords M^ere, " In the 
 Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy 
 Ghost;" on which another said, " A good beginning 
 of the sacrifice." And when she had come close to 
 this gracious figure, there was a fresh change. The 
 face, the features were the same ; but the light of Di- 
 vinity now seemed to beam through them, and the 
 t2 
 
276 CALLISTA ; 
 
 hair parted, and hung do^Yn long on each side of the 
 forehead ; and there was a crown of another fashion 
 from the Lady's round about it, made of what looked 
 like thorns. And the palms of the hands were spread 
 out as if towards her, and there were marks of wounds 
 in them. And the vestment had fallen, and there was 
 a deep opening in the side. And as she stood en- 
 tranced before Him, and motionless, she felt a con- 
 sciousness that her own palms were pierced like His, 
 and her feet also. And she looked round, and saw the 
 likeness of His face and of His wounds upon all that 
 company. And now they were suddenly moving on, 
 and bearing something, or some one, heavenwards ; 
 and they too began to sing, and their words seemed 
 to be, "Eejoice with Me, for I have found My sheep," 
 ever repeated. They went up through an avenue or 
 long grotto, with torches of diamonds, and amethysts, 
 and sappliires, which lit up its spars and made them 
 sparkle. And she tried to look, but could not discover 
 what they were carrying, till she heard a very piercing 
 cry, which awoke her. 
 
i SKETCH OP THE THIED CENTUET. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The cry came from the keeper's wife, whom we have 
 described as kindly disposed to her. She was a Lybo- 
 Phoenician, and spoke a broken Latin ; but the Lan- 
 guage of sympathy is universal, in spite of Babel. 
 " Callista," she exclaimed ; "girl, they have sent for 
 you ; you are to die. O frightful ! worse than a run- 
 away slave, — the torture ! Give in. What's the harm ? 
 you are so young : those terrible men with the pincers 
 and hot bars!" 
 
 Callista sat up, and passed from her vision to her 
 prison. She smiled, and said, "I am ready; I am 
 going home." The woman looked almost frightened, 
 and with some shade of disgust and disappointment. 
 She, as others, might have thought it impossible, as it 
 was unaccountable, that when it came to the point 
 Callista would hold out. " She's crazed," she sa'id. 
 " I am ready, mother," Callista said, and she got up. 
 "You have been very good to me," she continued; 
 " I have been saying many prayers for you while my 
 prayers were of no good, for then He was not mine. 
 But now I have espoused Him, and am going to be 
 married to-day, and He will hear me." The woman 
 stared at her stupidly, as much as to make it evident 
 that if afterwards in her, as in Callista, a change took 
 place, that change too, though in so different a soul, 
 must come of something beyond nature. She had 
 something in her hand, and said, " It's useless to give 
 
278 CALLISTA; 
 
 a mad woman like her the packet which my man has 
 brought me." 
 
 Callista took the packet, which was directed to her, 
 and broke the seah It was from her brother. The 
 little roll of worn parchment opened; a dagger fell 
 out. Some lines were written on the parchment ; they 
 were dated Carthage, and ran as follows : — 
 
 " Aristo to his dearest Callista. I write through 
 Cornelius. You have not had it in your power to kill 
 me, but you have taken away half my life. Eor me, I 
 will cherish the other half, for I love life better than 
 death. But you love annihilation ; yet, if so, die not 
 like a slave. Die nobly, mindful of your country; I 
 seud you the means." 
 
 Caihsta was beyond reflecting on any thing around 
 her, except as in a sort of dream. As common men 
 think and speak of heaven, so she now thought and 
 spoke of earth. " I wish Him to kill me, not myself," 
 she said. " I am His victim. My brother ! I have no 
 brother, except One, who is calling me." 
 
 She was cra-ried to court, and the examination fol- 
 lowed. We have already given a specimen of such a 
 process ; here it vrill be sufficient to make use of two 
 documents, different in kind, as far as they go, which 
 have come down to us. The first is an alto-relief, 
 which once was coloured, not first-rate in art or exe- 
 cution, and of the date of the Emperor Constantius, 
 about a century later. It was lately discovered in the 
 course of excavations made at El Kaf, the modern 
 Sicca, on the ruins of a church or Eoman basilica, for 
 the building in question seems to have served each 
 purpose successively.' In this sculpture the praetorium 
 is represented, and the tribunal of the president in it. 
 The tribunal is a high throne, with wings curving 
 round on each side, making the whole construction 
 extend to almost a semicircle, and it is ascended by 
 steps between the wings. The curule chair is at the 
 top of the steps ; and in the middle and above it are 
 purple curtains, reaching down to the platform, drawn 
 
A SKETCH OE THE THIRD CENTURY. 279 
 
 back on each side, and when drawn close together 
 running behind the chair, and constituting what was 
 called the secretarium. On one side of the tribunal is 
 a table covered with carpeting, and looking some- 
 thing like a modern ottoman, only higher, and not 
 level at top ; and it has upon it the Book of Mandates, 
 the sign of jurisdiction. The sword too is represented 
 in the sculpture, to show a criminal case is proceeding. 
 The procurator is seated on the chair; he is in purple, 
 and has a gold chain of triple thread. "We can also dis- 
 tinguish his lawyers, whetlier assessors or consiliarii ; 
 also his lictors and soldiers. There, too, are the no- 
 taries in a line below him ; the}^ are writing down the 
 judge's questions and the prisoner's answers ; and one 
 of them is turning round to her, as if to make her 
 speak more loudly. She herself is mounted up on a 
 sort of platform, called catasta, like that on which 
 slaves were put up for sale. Two soldiers are by her, 
 who appear to have been dragging her forwards. The 
 executioners are also delineated, naked to the waist, 
 with instruments of torture in their hands. 
 
 The second document is a fragment of the Acta 
 Proconsul a j'ia of her Passion. If, indeed, it could be 
 trusted to the letter, as containing Callista's answers 
 word for word, it would have a distinctly sacred cha- 
 racter, in consequence of our Lord's words, "It shall 
 be given you in that hour what to speak." However, 
 we attach no such special value to this document, 
 since it comes to us through heathen notaries, who 
 may not have been accurate reporters ; not to say that 
 before we did so we ought to look very carefully into 
 its genuineness. As it is, we believe it to be as true 
 as any part of our narrative, and not truer. It runs 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Cneius Messius Decius Augustus II., and Gratus, 
 Consuls, on the seventh before the Calends of August, 
 in Sicca Veneria, a colony, in the Secretary at the 
 Tribunal, Martianus, procurator, sitting; Callista, a 
 
280 CALLISTA ; 
 
 maker of images, Tras brought up by the Coram enta- 
 riensis on a charge of Christianity, and when she was 
 placed, 
 
 " Martiakus, the procurator, said : This folly has 
 been too long ; you have made images, and now you 
 will not worship them. 
 
 " Callista answered : Eor I have found ray true 
 Love, whom before I knew not. 
 
 " Mahtianus, the procurator, said : Tour true love 
 is, I ween, your last love ; for all were true in their 
 time. 
 
 " Callista said : I worship my true Love, who is 
 the Only True ; and lie is the Son of God, and 1 
 know none but Him. 
 
 " Maktiain'US, the procurator, said : You will not 
 worship the gods, but you are willing to love their 
 sons. 
 
 " Callista said : He is the True Son of the True 
 God ; and I am His, and He is mane. 
 
 " MARTrAis^TJS, the procurator, said: Let alone your 
 loves, and swear by the genius of the em.peror. 
 
 " Callista said: I have but one Lord, the King of 
 kings, the Euler of all. 
 
 " Maetiakus, the procurator, turned to the lictor 
 and said : This folly is madness ; take her hand, put 
 incense in it, and hold it over the flame. 
 
 " Callista said : You may compel me by your 
 great strength, but "my own true Lord and Love is 
 stronger. 
 
 " Maetianus, the procurator, said : You are be- 
 witched ; but we must undo the spell. Take her to 
 the Lignum (the prison for criminals). 
 
 " Callista said : He has been there before me, and 
 He will come to me there. 
 
 " Maetiai^tjs, the procurator, said: The jailor will 
 see to that. Let her be brought up to-morrow. 
 
 " On the day following, Martianus, the procurator, 
 sitting at the tribunal, called up Callista. He said : 
 Honour our lord, and sacrifice to the gods. 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIED CENTURY. 281 
 
 " Callista said : Let me alone ; I am content with 
 my One and Only Lord. 
 
 " Maiitiakus, the procurator, said: What? did he 
 come to you in prison, as you hoped ? 
 
 " Callista said : He came to me amid much pain; 
 and the pain was pleasant, for He came in it. 
 
 " MAiiTTANus, tlie procurator, said : Ton have got 
 worn and yellow, and he will leave you. 
 
 " Callista said ; He loves me the more, for I am 
 beautiful when I am black. 
 
 " Martianus, the procurator, said : Throw her into 
 the Tullianum ; perhaps she will find her god there 
 also. 
 
 " Then the procurator entered into the Secretary, 
 and drew the veil ; and dictated the sentence from the 
 tabella. Then he came out, and the prseco read it : — 
 Callista, a senseless and reprobate woman, is hereby 
 sentenced to be thrown into the Tullianum ; then to 
 be stretched on the equuleus ; then to be placed on a 
 slow fire ; lastly, to be beheaded, and left to the dogs 
 and birds. 
 
 " Callista said: Thanks to my Lord and King." 
 
 Here the Acta end ; and though they seem to want 
 their conclusion, yet they supply nearly every thing 
 which is necessary for our purpose. The one subject 
 on which a comment is needed, is the state prison, 
 which, though so little is said of it in the above Ee- 
 port, is in fact the real medium, as we may call it, 
 for appreciating its information : a few words will 
 SLifiice for our purpose. 
 
 The state prison, then, was arranged on pretty much 
 oue and the same plan through the Roman empire, 
 nay, we may say, throughout the ancient world. It 
 was commonly attached to the government buildings, 
 and consisted of two parts. The first was the vesti- 
 bule, or outward prison, which was a hall, approached 
 from the priietorium, and surrounded by cells, opening 
 into it. The prisoners, who were confined in these 
 
282 . CALLISTA ; 
 
 cells, had tlie benefit of the air and light, which the 
 hall admitted Such was the place of confinement 
 allotted to St. Paul at Ceesarea, which is said to be 
 the "prsetorium of Herod." And hence, perhaps, it 
 is that, in the touching Passion of St. Perpetua and 
 St. Felicitas, St. Perpetua tells us that, when per- 
 mitted to have her child, though she was in the inner 
 portion, which will next be described, " suddenly the 
 prison seemed to her lil^e the prsetorium." 
 
 From the vestibule there was a passage into the in- 
 terior prison, called Eobur or Lignum, from the beams 
 of wood, which were the instruments of confinement, 
 or from the character of its floor. It had no window 
 or outlet, except this door, which, when closed, abso- 
 lutely shut out light and air. Air, indeed, and cool- 
 ness might be obtained by the haratlirum, presently to 
 be spoken of, but of what nature we shall then see. 
 This apartment, called Lignum, was the place into which 
 St. Paul and St, Silas were cast at Philippi, before it 
 was known that they were Eomans. After scourging 
 them severely, the magistrates, who nevertheless were 
 but the local. authorities, and had no proper jurisdiction 
 in criminal cases, "put them in prison, bidding the 
 jailor to keep them carefully. "Who, on receiving such 
 a command, put them in the inner prison, and fastened 
 them in the lignum." And in the Acts of the Scilli- 
 tane Martyrs we read of the Proconsul giving sentence, 
 " Let them be thrown into prison; let them be put 
 into the Lignum till to-morrow." 
 
 The utter darkness, the heat, and the stench of this 
 miserable place, in which the inmates were confined 
 day and night, is often dwelt upon by the martyrs 
 and their biographers. " After a \q\\^ days," says 
 St. Perpetua, '" vre were taken to the prison, and I was 
 frightened, for I never had known such darkness. O 
 bitter day ! the heat was excessive by reason of the 
 crowd there." In the Acts of St. Pionius and others 
 of Smyrna we read that the jailors " shut them up in 
 the inner part of the prison, so that, bereaved of all 
 
A SKETCn OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 283 
 
 comfort and liglit, they were forced to sustain extreme 
 torment, from the darkness and stencli of the prison." 
 And, in like manner, other martyrs of Africa, about 
 the time of St. Cyprian's martyrdom, that is, eight or 
 ten years later than the date of this story, say, " We 
 were not frightened at the foul darkness of that place ; 
 for soon that murky prison was radiant with the 
 brightness of the Spirit. What days, what nights we 
 passed there, no words can describe. The torments 
 of that prison no statement can equal." 
 
 Yet there was a place of confinement even worse 
 than this. In the floor of the inner prison was a sort 
 of trapdoor, or hole, opening into the laratliriom, or 
 pit, and called, from the original prison at Eome, the 
 Tnllianum. Sometimes prisoners were confined here; 
 sometimes dispatched by being cast headlong into it 
 through the opening. It was into this pit at Eome 
 that St. Chrysanthus was cast ; and there, and pro- 
 bably in other cities, it was nothing short of the public 
 cesspool. 
 
 It may be noticed that the Prophet Jeremias seems 
 to have had personal acquaintance with Vestibule, llo- 
 bur, and Barathrum. We read in one place of his 
 being shut up in the "atrium," that is, the vestibule, 
 "of the prison, which was in the house of the king." 
 At another time he is in the " ergastulum," which 
 would seem to be the inner prison. Lastly, his ene- 
 mies let him down by ropes into the lacus or pit, in 
 which "there was no water, but mud." 
 
 As to Callista, then, after the first day's examina- 
 tion, she was thrown for nearly twenty-four hours into 
 the stiflmg Eobur, or inner prison. After the sentence, 
 on the second day, she was let down, as the com- 
 mencement of her punishment, that is, of her martyr- 
 dom, into the loathsome Barathrum, lacus, or pit, 
 called Tuliianum, there to lie for another twenty hours 
 before she was brought out to the equuleus or rack. 
 
28^ OALHSta; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Callista had sighed for the bright and clear atmo- 
 sphere of Greece, and she was thro\Yn into the Eobur, 
 and plunged into the Barathrum of Sicca. But in 
 reality, though she called it Greece, she \Yas panting 
 after a better country and a more lasting home ; and 
 this country and home she had found. IShe was now 
 setting out for it. 
 
 It was, indeed, no slight marvel that she was not 
 already there. She had been lowered into that pit of 
 death before noon on the day of her second examination, 
 and, excepting some unwholesome bread and water, 
 according to the custom of the prison, had had no 
 food since she came into the custody of the commen- 
 tariensis the day before. The order came from the 
 magistrates to bring her out earlier in the morning 
 than was intended, or the prison might have really 
 effected what Calphurnius had purposed to pretend. 
 "When the apparitors attempted to raise her, she 
 neither spoke nor moved, nor could well be seen. 
 "Black as Orcus," said oneof the fellows, "anothertorch 
 there ! I can't see where she nestles." " There she is, 
 like a bundle of clothes," said another. " Madam gets 
 up late this morning," said a third. " She's used to 
 softer couches," said a fourth. "Ha! ha! 'tis a 
 spoiler of beaut}^, this hole," said a fifth. " She is the 
 demon of stubbornness, and must be crushed," said 
 the jailor; " she likes it, or she would not choose it." 
 
A SKETCH OP THE THIRD CEITTUIIT. 285 
 
 " The plague take the witch," said another ; " we shall 
 have better seasons when a few like her are ferreted 
 out." 
 
 The J got her out like a corpse, and put her on the 
 ground outside the prison. When she still did not 
 move, two of them took her between them on their 
 shoulders and arms, and began to move forward, the 
 instrument of torture preceding her. The fresh air of 
 the morning revived her ; she soon sat up. She seemed 
 to drink in life again, and became conscious. " O 
 beautiful Li^ht!" she whisnered, " lovely Light, my 
 liirht and my life! O my Light and my Life receive 
 me !' Gradually she became fully alive to all that was 
 going on. She was going to death, and that rather 
 than deny Him who had bought her by His own death. 
 He had suffered for her, and she was to suffer for 
 Him. He had been racked on the Cross, she too was 
 to have her limbs dislocated after His pattern. She 
 scarcely rested on the men's shoulders ; and they vowed 
 afterwards that they thought she was going to fly 
 away, vile witch as she was. 
 
 "The witch, the witch!" the mob screamed out, 
 for she had now come to the place of her conflict. 
 " We'll pay you off for blight and pestilence ! Where's 
 our bread, where' s the maize and barley, where are 
 the grapes?" And they uttered fierce yells of exe- 
 cration, and seemed disposed to break through the Hne 
 of apparitors, and to tear her to pieces. Yet, after all, 
 it was not a very hearty uproar, but got up for the 
 occasion. The populace had spent their force, not to 
 say their lives, in the riot in which she was appre- 
 hended. The priests and priestesses of the temples 
 had sent the poor wretches and paid them. 
 
 The place of execution was on the north-east of the 
 city, outside the walls, and towards the mountain. It 
 was where slaves were buried, and it was as hideous as 
 such spots usually were. The neighbourhood was 
 wild, open to the beasts of prey, who at night used to 
 descend and feast upon the corpses. As Callista ap- 
 
286 CALLTSTA ; 
 
 proaclied to the scene of her suffering, the expression 
 of her countenance had so altered that a friend would 
 scarce have known it. There was a tenderness in it 
 and a modesty which never had been there in that 
 old time. Her cheek had upon it a blush, as when 
 the rising sun suddenly touches some grey rock or 
 tower ; yet it was white and glistening too, so much 
 so that others might have said it was like silver. Her 
 eyes were larger than they had been, and gazed sted- 
 fastly, as if at what the multitude did not see. Her 
 lips spoke of sweet peace and deep composure. "When 
 at length she came close upon the rabble, who had 
 been screaming and yelling so fiercel_7, men, women, 
 and boys suddenly held their peace. It was first from 
 curiosity, then from amazement, then from awe. At 
 length a fear smote through them, and a strange 
 pity and reverence. They almost seemed inclined to 
 w^orship what stirred them so much, they knew not 
 how; a new idea had visited those poor ignorant 
 souls. 
 
 A few minutes sufficed to put the rack into working 
 order. She was laid down upon its board in her poor 
 bedimmed tunic, which once flashed so bright in the sun, 
 — she who had been ever so delicate in her apparel. Her 
 wrists and ankles were seized, extended, fastened to 
 the moveable blocks at the extremities of the plank. 
 She spoke her last word, "Eor Thee, my Lord and 
 Love, for Tliee ! . . Accept me, O my Love, upon this 
 bed of pain ! . . And come to me, my Love, make 
 haste and come !" The men turned round tlie wheels 
 rapidly to and fro ; the joints were drawn out of their 
 sockets, and then snapped in again. She had fainted 
 They waited for her coming-to ; they still waited ; 
 they got impatient. 
 
 " Dash some water on her," said one. " Spit in her 
 face, and it will do," said a second. "Prick her with 
 your spike," said a third. " Hold your wild talk," 
 said a fourth; "she's gone to the shades." They 
 gathered round, and looked at her attentively. They 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 
 
 287 
 
 could not bring her back. So it was : she had gone 
 to her Lord and her Love. 
 
 " Lay her out for the wolves and vultures," said 
 the cornicularius, and he was going to appoint guards 
 till nightfall, when up came the stationarii and Cal- 
 phurnius in high wrath. 
 
 "You dogs !" he cried, "what trick have you been 
 practising against the soldiers of Eome ?" However, 
 expostulation and reproach were bootless ; nor would 
 it answer here to go into the quarrel which ensued over 
 the dead body. The magistrates, having got scent of 
 Calphurnius's scheme, had outwitted the tribune by 
 assigning an earlier hour than was usual for the execu- 
 tion. Life could not be recalled ; nor did the soldiers 
 of course dare publicly to disobey the Proconsul's 
 order for the exposure of the corpse. All that could 
 be done, they did. They took her down with rude 
 reverence from the rack, and placed her on the sand ; 
 and then they set guards to keep off the rabble, and 
 to avail themselves of any opportunity which might 
 occur to show consideration towards her. 
 
288 CALLISTi 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The sun of Africa has passed over the heavens, but 
 has not dared with one of his fierce rays to profane 
 the sacred relics which lie out before him. The mists 
 of evening rise up, and the heavy dews fall, but they 
 neither bring the poison of decay to that gracious 
 body, nor receive it thence. The beasts of the wild 
 are roaming and roaring at a distance, or nigli at 
 hand : not any one of them presumes to touch her. 
 No vultures may promise themselves a morning meal 
 from such a victim, as they watch through the night 
 upon the high crags which overlook her. The stars 
 have come out on high, and, they too, look down upon 
 Callista, as if they were funeral lights in her honour. 
 Next the moon rises up to see what has been going on, 
 and edges the black hangings of the night with silver. 
 Yet mourning and decay are but of formal observ- 
 ance, when a brave champion has died for her God. 
 The world of ghosts has as little power over such a 
 one as the world of nature. No evil spirit has aught 
 to say to her, who has 'gone in her baptismal white 
 before the Throne. No penal fire shall be her robe, 
 who has been carried in her bright flammeum to 
 the Bridal Chamber of the Lamb. A divine odour 
 fills the air, issuing from that senseless, motion- 
 less, broken frame. A circle of light gleams round 
 her brow, and even when the daylight comes again, 
 it there is faintly seen. Her features have reas- 
 sumed their former majesty, but with an expression 
 of childlike innocence and heavenly peace. The 
 thongs have drawn blood at the wrists and ankles, 
 which has run and soaked into the sand; but 
 angels received the body from the soldiers when they 
 
A SKETCH OF THE THIRD CENTUHT. 289 
 
 took it off the rack, and it lies, sweetly and modestly 
 composed, upon the ground. 
 
 Passers-by stand still and gaze ; idlers gather 
 round. The report spreads in Sicca tliat neither sun 
 by day, nor moon by night, nor moist atmosphere, nor 
 beast of prey, has power over the wonderful corpse. 
 Nay, that no one can come near it without falling 
 under some strange influence, which makes them calm 
 and grave, expels bad passions, and allays commotion 
 of mind. Many come again and again, for the 
 mysterious and soothing effect she exerts upon them. 
 They cannot talk freely about it to each other, and 
 are seized with a sacred fear when they attempt to do 
 so. Those who have merely heard their report without 
 seeing her, say that these men have been in a grove 
 of the Eumenides, or have suddenly encountered the 
 wolf. The popular sensation continues and extends ; 
 some say it is magical, others that it is from the great 
 gods. Day sinks again into evening, evening becomes 
 night; the night wears out, and morning is coming again. 
 
 It begins to dawn: a glimmer is faintly spread 
 abroad, and, mixing with the dark, makes twilight, 
 which gradually brightens, and the outlines of nature 
 rise dimly out of the night. Gradually the sacred 
 body comes to sight ; and, as the light grows stronger 
 around it, gradually too the forms of five men emerge, 
 who had not been there the night before. One is in 
 front ; the rest behind with a sort of bier or litter. 
 They stand on the mountain side of her, and must 
 have come from the country. It has been a bold 
 enterprise theirs, to expose themselves to the nightly 
 beasts, and now again to the rabble and the soldiers. 
 The soldiers are at some little distance, silent and 
 watchful ; such of the rabble as have passed the night 
 there have had some superstitious object in their stay. 
 They have thought to get portions of the flesh for 
 magical purposes ; a finger, or a tooth, or some hair, 
 or a portion of her tunic, or the blood-stained rope 
 which was twisted round her wrist and ankle. 
 
 V 
 
290 CALLISTA ; 
 
 As the light makes her at length quite visible to the 
 youth oil the other side, who stands by himself with 
 clasped hands and tearful eyes, he shrinks from the 
 sight. He turns round to his companions who are 
 provided with a large winding-sheet or pall, and with 
 the help of one of them, to the surprise of the popu- 
 lace, he spreads it all over the body. And having 
 done this, he stands again trembling, just for a few 
 seconds, absorbed in his meditations, praying and weep- 
 ing, and nerving himself for what is to follow. Ah, poor 
 Agellius! you have not risen yet to the pitch of triumph; 
 and other thoughts must be let to range through your 
 breast, other emotions must spend themselves, before 
 you are prepared simply to rejoice, exult, and glory in 
 the lifeless form which lies before you. You are upon a 
 brave work, but your heart is torn while you set hand 
 to it, and you linger before you begin. 
 
 It was in the pride of her earthly beauty, and the 
 full vigour and elevation of her mind, that he last had 
 seen her. It seemed an age since that morning, as if a 
 chasm ran between the now and the then, when she 
 so fascinated him with her presence, and so majesti- 
 cally rebuked him for bowing to that fascination. 
 Yet on his memory every incident of that interview 
 was fixed, and was indelible. O why should the great 
 Creator shatter one of His most admirable works! 
 If the order of the sun and stars is adorable, if the 
 laws by which earth and sea are kept together mark 
 the Hand of supreme AVisdom and Power, how much 
 more perfection of beauty is manifested in man ! And 
 of human nature itself here was the supereminent 
 crown, a soul full of gifts, full of gTcatness, full of 
 intellect, placed in an outward form, equally sur- 
 passing in its kind, and still more surpassingly ex- 
 cellent from its intimate union and subordination 
 to the soul, so as almost to be its simple expression ; 
 yet this choicest, rarest specimen of Almighty skill, 
 the Almighty had pitilessly shattered, in order that it 
 might inherit a higher, an eternal perfection. O 
 
A SKETCH OE THE THIRD CENTURY. 291 
 
 mystery of mysteries, that heaAx^n should not be pos- 
 sibly obtained without such a grinding down and 
 breaking up of our original nature ! O mysterious, 
 that principle in us, whatever it is, and however it 
 came there, which is so antagonist to God, which has 
 so spoilt what seems so good, that all must be undone, 
 and must begin anew! "An enemy hath done this;" 
 and, knowing as much as this, and no more, we must 
 leave the awful mystery to that day Avhen ail things 
 shall be made light. 
 
 Agellius has not been idle while these thoughts 
 pass through his mind. He has stooped down and 
 scooped up such portions of the sand as are moistened 
 with her blood, and has committed them to a small 
 bag which he has taken out of his bosom. Then 
 without delay, looking round to liis attendants, and 
 signing to them, with two of the party he resolutely 
 crossed over to the other side of the corpse, covering 
 it from attack, while his two assistants who were left 
 proceeded quickly to lay hold of it. They had raised 
 it, laid it on the bier, and were setting off by an un- 
 usual track across the waste, while Agellius, Aspar, 
 and the third are grappling with some ruffians who had 
 rushed upon them, l^ew, hoAvever, were there as yet 
 to take part against them, but their cries of alarm 
 were bringing others up, and the Christians were in 
 growing danger of being worsted and carried off, when 
 suddenly the soldiers interfered. Under pretence 
 of keeping the peace, they laid about them Avith their 
 heaA'^" maces ; and so it Avas, the blows took effect on 
 the heads and shoulders of the rabble, with but slight 
 injury to Agellius and his companions. The latter 
 took instant advantage of the diversion, and A\anished 
 out of view by the same misleading track which their 
 comrades had already chosen. If they, or the party 
 who had preceded them^ came within the range of 
 sight of any goatherds upon the mountains, Ave must 
 suppose that angels held those heathen eyes that they 
 should not recognize them. 
 u2 
 
292 CALLISTA ; 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 The bier and its bearers, and its protectors, have 
 reached the cave in safety, and pace down the gallery, 
 proceeded by its Christian hosts, v^ith lighted tapers, 
 singing psalms. Thej place the sacred body before 
 the altar, and the mass begins. St. Cyprian celebrates, 
 and after the Gospel, he adds a few words of his 
 own. 
 
 He said that they were engaged in praising, bless- 
 ing, and exalting the adorable Grace of God, which 
 had snatched so marvellonsly a brand ont of the 
 furnace. Benedicamus Patrem et Eilium cum Sancto 
 Spiritu. Benedictus, et laudabilis, et gloriosus, et 
 supereialtatus in ssecula. Every day doing marvels, 
 and exceeding all that seemed possible in power and love, 
 by new and still newer manifestations. A Greek had 
 come to Africa to embellish the shrines of heathenism, 
 to minister to the usurpation of the devil, and to 
 strengthen the old ties which connected genius with 
 sin; and she had suddenly found salvation. But yes- 
 terday a poor child of earth, and to-day an inhabitant 
 of the heavens. But yesterday without God and 
 without hope ; and to-day a martyr with a green palm 
 and golden vestment, worshipping before the Throne. 
 But yesterday the slave of Satan, and spending herself 
 on the vanities of time ; and to-day drinking of the 
 never-cloying torrents of bliss everlasting. But yes- 
 terday one of a number, a grain of a vast heap, des- 
 tined indiscriminately for the flame ; to-day one of 
 
A SKETCH OE THE THIKD CENTTJBT. 293 
 
 the elect souls, written from eternity in the book ot 
 life, and predestined to glory. But yesterday, liungry 
 and thirsty, and restless for some object worthy an 
 immortal spirit ; to-day enjoying the inefiable ecstasy 
 of the Marriage Feast and the espousals of Emmanuel. 
 But yesterday tossed about on a sea of opinion ; and 
 to-day entranced in the vision of infallible truth and 
 immutable sanctity. And yet what was she but only 
 one instance out of ten thousand of the Almighty and 
 All-manifold Grace of the [Redeemer ? And who was 
 there of all of them, there assembled, from the most 
 heroic down to the humblest beginner, from the autho- 
 ritative preacher down to the slave or peasant, but was 
 equally, though in his own way, a miracle of mercy, 
 and a vessel, once of wrath, if now of glory ? Ojiiy 
 might he and all wlio heard him persevere as they had 
 begun, so that if (as was so probable) their trial was 
 to be like hers, its issue might be like hers also. 
 
 St. Cyprian ceased ; and, w^hile the deacon opened 
 the sindon for the offertory, the faithful took up alter- 
 nately the verses of a hymn, which we here insert in a 
 most unworthy translation: — 
 
 *' The number of Thine own complete 
 Sum up and make an end ; 
 Sift clean the chaff, and house the wheat, 
 And then, O Lord, descend. 
 
 " Descend, and solve by that descent, 
 This mystery of lite; 
 Where good and ill, together blent, 
 Wage an undying strife. 
 
 *' For rivers twain are gushing still, 
 And pour a mingled flood ; 
 Good in the very depths of ill ; 
 III in the heart of good. 
 
 "The last are first, — the first are last, — 
 As angel eyes behold : 
 These from the i-heep-cote sternly cast,— 
 Those welcomed to the fold. 
 
294 CALLISTA ; 
 
 *' No Christian home, no pastor's eye, 
 No [)reachtT's vocal zeal, 
 Moved Thy dear martyr to defy 
 The prison and the wheel. 
 
 " Forth from the heathen ranks she stept, 
 The forfeit throne to claim 
 Of Christian souls who had not kept 
 Their birthright and their name. 
 
 " Grace formed her out of sinful dust ; 
 She knelt, a soul deiiled; 
 She rose in all the faith and trust 
 And sweetness of a child. 
 
 " And in the freslmess of that love 
 
 She preached by word and deed, — 
 The mysteries of the world above, — 
 Her new-found, glorious creed. 
 
 " And running, in a little hour, 
 Of life the course complete. 
 She reached the throne of endless power 
 And sits at Jesu's feet. 
 
 " Her spirit there, her body here, 
 Make one the, earth and sky ; 
 We use her name,— we touch her bier :- 
 ^^'e know her God is niyrh." 
 
 The last sentiment of the yet unfinisbed hymn was 
 receiving an answer while they sung it. Juba bad 
 been brought into the chapel in the hands of hi« 
 brother and the exorcists. 8inee he had been under 
 their care, he had been, on the whole, calm and man- 
 ageable, with intervals of wild tempest and mad terror. 
 He spoke, at times, of an awful incubus weigliing on 
 his chest, which he could not throw ofl", and said he 
 hoped that they Avould not think all the blasphemies 
 he uttered were his own. On this occasion, he strug- 
 gled most violently, and shook with distress ; and, as 
 tliey brought him towards the sacred relics, a thick, 
 cold dew stood upon his brow, and his features shrunk 
 and collapsed. He held back, and exerted himself 
 with all his might to escape, foaming at the mouth, 
 
A SKETCH or THE THIRD CENTUET. 295 
 
 and from time to time uttering loud shrieks and hor- 
 rible words, which disturbed, though they could not 
 interrupt, the hymn. His bearers persevered : they 
 Drought him close to Callista, and made him touch her 
 feet with his hands. Immediately he screamed fear- 
 fully, and was sent up into the air with such force 
 that he seemed discharged from some engine of war : 
 then he fell back upon the earth apparently lifeless. 
 
 The long prayer was ended ; the Sursiim corda was 
 uttered. Juba raised himself from the ground. When 
 the words of consecration had been said, he adored 
 with the faithful. After the mass, his attendants 
 came to him ; he was quite changed : he was quiet, 
 harmless, and silent ; the evil spirit had gone out ; but 
 he was an idiot. 
 
 This wonderful deliverance was but the beginning of 
 the miracles which followed the martyrdom of St. 
 Callista. It may be said to have been the resurrection 
 of the Church at Sicca. In not many months Decius 
 was killed, and the persecution ceased there. Castus 
 was appointed bishop, and numbers began to pour into 
 tlie fold. The lapsed asked for peace, or at least such 
 blessings as they could have. Heathens sought to be 
 received. When asked for their reason, they could only 
 say that Callista' s history and death had aifected them 
 with constraining force, and that tliey could not help fol- 
 lowing her steps. Increasing in boldness, as well as num- 
 bers, the Christians cowed both magistrates and mob. 
 The spirit of the populace had been already broken ; 
 and the continual change of masters, and measures with 
 them, in the imperial government, inflicted a chronic 
 timidity on the magistracy. A handsome church was 
 soon built, to which Callista's body was brought, and 
 which remained till the time of the Diocletian per- 
 secution. 
 
 Juba attach<ed himself to this church ; and, though 
 he could not be taught even to sweep the sacred pave- 
 ment, still he never was troublesome or mischievous. 
 He continued in this state for about ten years. At 
 
296 CALLISTA, &C. 
 
 the end of that time, one morning, after mass, which he 
 always attended in the church porch, he suddenly went 
 to the bishop, and asked for baptism. He said that 
 Callista had appeared to him, and had restored to him 
 his mind. On conversing with him, the holy Castus 
 found that his recovery was beyond all doubt : and not 
 knowing how long his lucid state would last, he had 
 no hesitation, with such instruction as the time ad- 
 mitted, to administer the holy rite, as he wished. 
 After receiving it, he proceeded to the tomb, within 
 which lay St. Callista, and remained on his knees before 
 his benefactress till nightfall. Not even then was he 
 disposed to rise; and so he was left there for the 
 night. Next morning he was found still in the atti- 
 tude of prayer, but lifeless. He had been taken away 
 in his baptismal robe. 
 
 As to Agellius, if he be the bishop of that name who 
 suffered at Sicca in his old age, in the persecution of 
 Diocletian, we are possessed in this circumstance of 
 a most interesting fact to terminate his history withal. 
 What makes this more likely is, that this bishop is 
 recorded to have removed the body of St. Callista 
 from its original position, and placed it under the * 
 high altar, at which he said mass daily. After his own. 
 martyrdom, St. Agellius was placed under the high 
 altar also. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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