Italian Yesterdays, vol. 1

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

That breaks on him as a new light, undreamt of before, but he does not yield at once like Valerianus. He cries out in revolt when told that in order to be purified he must take the same road, cast himself at the feet of a poor proscribed old man hiding underground among the tombs of despised victims. “But there is a price set on that old man’s head,” he urges, “and, if we are known to hold any intercourse with him, we shall be tortured and killed, and shall lose our lives here for a hope which may be vain, after all!”

Cecilia had convinced him of the folly of worshipping idols made, as she said, “of stone and metal dug and fashioned by criminals”; but life, life as he knew it, was too sweet and real to be risked for anything less than the certainty of a better one. “Is it possible,” he breaks out, “that there can be another life after this one? Never have I heard of such a doctrine!”

Few in Rome had. The very Barbarians held some misty hope of future reward, some half-formed fear of future punishment; but the masters of the world then, like so many of its masters now, had sunk so deep in materialism that atheism was the only doctrine suited to their voluntary blindness, and even gallant, honest young men like Tiburtius and his brother had not a suspicion that any other could exist. Yet, because they were honest, and their hearts were pure, they did not turn their eyes away when the light was shown them. Cecilia went on to explain the truths of our Redemption, her discourse evidently intended not only to enlighten Tiburtius, but to amplify and perfect for Valerianus the instruction received from Urban during the preceding night. At last Tiburtius, all his doubts set at rest, threw himself, with many tears, at her feet, crying: “If ever again I consider this present life worth a thought or a wish, let me never obtain life eternal! Let fools hold to the insensate pleasures that pass away—I, who have lived until to-day without an object, will never henceforth live without one.” Then, appealing to Valerianus, he implored: “Have mercy on me, dearest brother, for I can bear no waiting. I fear delay. I cannot carry this weight! I beseech thee, take me to the man of God, that, purifying me, he may make me a partaker of the other life!”

Gladly Valerianus led him to Urban, who received him tenderly, baptised him the next day, and kept him at his side for seven days following, during which the generous boy’s ardour was inflamed by beholding the crowded tombs of the martyrs, all marked by palm branches in sign of victory. He returned to the palace by the Tiber, a giant in strength, only desiring the hour when he should be called upon to confess Christ before men. And then began that beautiful life of the three Saints, which lasted indeed but a few months, but which must have been like a foretaste of Heaven, a life all full of love of God and charity to man. Cecilia gave much time and most of her wealth to the poor Christians, among whom were great numbers of widows and orphans deprived of their bread-winner by the ferocity of Almachius, who boasted, if I remember rightly, that during his Prætorship he had caused the death of more than five thousand Christians of the poorer sort. The chief characteristics of Turcius Almachius were rapacity and cruelty. While Alexander Severus was actually in Rome, the Emperor’s presence, and his known dislike of bloodshed in times of peace, acted as a salutary curb on the inclinations of the Prefect of the city; but in the year 230 Alexander was absent for a long time, apparently in Persia, since some medals commemorating his victories there were struck with this date. The civil power reposed entirely in the hands of Almachius, and he made haste to use it to satisfy his virulent hatred of the Christians. In this he found powerful allies among the people, whose feelings against the new religion had been fomented by a thousand calumnies, amusingly like those which the enemies of the Church pay such large sums to have circulated now. No sooner had the Emperor departed than the storm of the Prefect’s fury broke out; the Christians, chiefly poor people with no one to defend them, were apprehended, tortured, and killed in enormous numbers. The places of execution ran day after day with their blood. But the rage of their official persecutor was not satisfied with inflicting merely suffering and death. Knowing the great reverence with which the followers of Christ regarded the bodies of the martyrs, he issued an edict forbidding their burial. They were to lie where they fell, and whosoever should attempt to give them sepulture was to be condemned to share their fate.

So frightful was the slaughter at this time that the old underground cemeteries were all choked with dead; but St. Calixtus, the predecessor of Urban, had foreseen, or had perceived by prophetic revelation, the coming necessity, and had prepared a vast new catacomb adjoining the older ones along the Appian Way. It had not long to wait for its glorious occupants. The Christians regarded the burial of the martyrs as a most solemn duty, from which no danger to themselves was ever allowed to deter them. Those who had money frequently paid great sums to obtain the mangled remains, which they lovingly gathered together, wrapped in spices and perfumes, and carried, at the risk of their lives, into the sacred vaults of the Catacombs. Great numbers paid for their devotion with their blood, but others always came forward to take their places.

What was the surprise of the poor hunted Christians to behold, in that spring of 230, two of the noblest and most brilliant young officers in Rome present themselves day after day to assist in this perilous duty! With all the courage of their rank and profession, Valerianus and Tiburtius devoted themselves to saving the holy bodies from profanation and spent their wealth lavishly in bestowing on them funeral honours. Cecilia had long done all she could to assist in the pious work, but the restrictions placed on noble ladies had so far saved her from attracting the baneful notice of the Prefect. It was otherwise with Valerianus and his brother. They were well known and could not pass unperceived. Almachius was furious when he heard of their actions. He was ready enough to persecute the poor; should the Emperor on his return enquire into the sacrifice of so many thousands of his subjects, the old excuse could be given—either they had raised a sedition, or else the people had turned against them and the authorities had not been able to control the popular fury. But when it came to wealthy young officers of the Guard, everywhere respected and admired, a very different sort of enquiry would be instituted, and the Prefect would probably be severely reprimanded, if not actually punished, for having laid hands upon them.

Yet, for his own sake, he must see that his orders were respected. Doubtless these fashionable youths had been led away by foolish enthusiasm and would see reason when the all-powerful Governor laid it before them. He would send for them and give them a good lecture; they would express their regret at having offended him, and then he would let them go.

Little he knew the spirit of those gallant boys! When they stood before him, he sought to appeal to their pride by asking them if it were really true that they, men of patrician standing, were not only squandering their fortune on low-born wretches, but were actually giving their dead bodies honourable burial! Was it possible that nobles had become the accomplices of criminals!

Tiburtius, the younger and more impulsive of the brothers, answered him. “Would to God,” he cried, “that those whom you call our accomplices would permit us to become their servants! They have obtained the only reality. May we imitate their holiness and one day follow in their footsteps!”

This was not what Almachius had expected, and he tried to soothe and flatter the young man’s feelings by turning the conversation into other channels, particularly by complimenting him on his remarkable resemblance to his brother; but Tiburtius was not to be lured aside. A strange dialogue on the philosophy of Christianity ensued, and then the Governor, declaring that Tiburtius had lost his reason, smilingly dismissed him and addressed himself, with no better fortune, to Valerianus. His great object now was to prevent the young men from making a public profession of their Christianity; one sees how the crafty middle-aged man feared equally the risk of bringing them to punishment and that of having his supremacy openly flouted before the people. But all his cowardly efforts were in vain. Valerianus, in presence of the multitudes that curiosity or sympathy had now gathered around him, boldly declared that there was but one true God, and that those who worshipped idols made by men were destined to eternal punishment. Then, the impossible happened to silence him. Almachius commanded that he, the free-born Roman noble, should be publicly scourged. The sentence was executed on the spot, Tiburtius mourning that he did not share it—his brother had preceded him in suffering for Christ!