Italian Yesterdays, vol. 1

by Mrs. Hugh Fraser

She, who had opened to her dear ones the gates of life, now bade them forth to death. No word she spoke of her own grief, of the desolation that awaited her till her own hour (not far away, as she knew) should come. We are not told whether she accompanied the martyrs to the place of execution. With all her glorious valour she was but a young and loving woman, and God may have chosen to spare her the last dreadful sight, may have led her back to her empty home to pray, rather than out to the public road to shudder and weep.

Maximus and his soldiers, praying also, led Valerianus and Tiburtius over the well-known road as far as the temple in the Pagus Triopius, where the waiting priests of Jupiter commanded them to offer incense before the idol. For answer, the young men knelt down and offered their necks to the executioner’s sword. Those who had been charged with the cruel mission confessed loudly that they were Christians now, and refused to perform it, but others were present who offered themselves as substitutes. A moment later the two young heads rolled on the ground, and Maximus, as Valerianus had promised him, saw the souls of the martyrs carried to Heaven, which was opened before his eyes, on the wings of Angels resplendent as suns. He could not contain the ecstasy with which the sight had filled him, and was now himself consumed with the love of God and the desire to attain to the same glory. Many of the pagans who had gathered around were converted on the spot, and Almachius, incensed beyond measure, caused Maximus to be scourged to death a few days afterwards.

The Christians obtained possession of the bodies of Valerianus and Tiburtius, and Cecilia, weeping and rejoicing, received the dear remains, wrapped them in costly silks with great wealth of precious balms, and buried them in the cemetery of Pretextatus near the second milestone of the Appian Way. She sealed their tomb with the emblems of victory, the palm and crown, and returned to the palace beyond the Tiber to await the will of God in regard to herself. When she heard of the martyrdom of Maximus she came forth to take up his body, which she buried with her own hands near those of her husband and his brother, and on his tomb she caused to be engraved the symbol of resurrection, the phœnix rising from its own ashes.

Her next care was to forestall the rapacity of Almachius by distributing all the goods of Valerianus to the poor, a measure which so inflamed the Prefect’s fury that he began to cast about for some means of doing away with her, without arousing the ire of the people; a difficult matter, since all in Rome, both pagans and Christians, knew and admired her for her noble birth, her great beauty, and her many virtues, more especially for her all-embracing charity. The murder of Valerianus and Tiburtius had not pleased the populace; that of Cecilia might easily cause a riot; it behooved Almachius to proceed with caution. As in the former case, he felt that her Christianity, so openly professed in the face of his thundered prohibitions, was a direct affront to his authority and that she must be forced to retract; yet he feared the resentment of the Emperor, and also of the people, should he venture upon bringing her to a public trial. So he hit upon an expedient which, he thought, would satisfy all parties. He sent some officers to see her, and to tell her that, if she would sacrifice to the gods in their presence, in the privacy of her home, the Governor would be satisfied and would molest her no further.

The officers very unwillingly accepted the task laid upon them, and, when they found themselves face to face with Cecilia, were so overcome by the sight of her calm and heavenly beauty that they could scarcely explain their mission. Cecilia spoke to them with great gentleness. She told them that she knew how their hearts revolted from carrying out the impious designs of their superior. She said that she sorrowed not at all for herself, since she was only too happy to suffer for Christ, but that she deeply pitied them, who “in the flower of their youth were condemned to obey the orders of an unjust judge.”

The young men were cut to the heart to see this exquisite girl (tam elegans puella), so noble and so wise, inviting martyrdom, and they besought her with tears not to “fling so much beauty to Death!” But in her calm, lucid way she explained that to die for Christ was to renew youth forever; that to exchange mortality for immortality was like giving up a little handful of lead to receive inexhaustible treasures of purest gold. She saw that the scales were falling from their eyes, and, all aflame to gain more souls to Christ, she cried, “Do you believe what I have told you?” And they replied: “We believe Christ the Son of God to be truly God, Who possesses such a servant!”

Cecilia had won another victory. “Go now,” she commanded, “to unhappy Almachius, and tell him that I pray him not to hasten my passion, and then return here to my house and you shall find him who will make you sharers of Eternal Life.”

The few days’ delay was granted, and the officers returned joyfully to Cecilia’s house. She had at once sent to inform St. Urban of her approaching martyrdom, and begged him to come at once, as many whom she had instructed and converted were desirous of receiving baptism before her death. The Pope hastened to her side and remained with her for all that was left of her life. The house became a temple of prayer and praise; more than four hundred persons, the officers of Almachius foremost among them, were baptised. In order to prevent the confiscation of her property, Cecilia made her will devising her house and all it contained to a certain Gordian, “one of her converts, a most upright man,” charging him to make of the dwelling where the Sacrament of Baptism had been conferred a “Church of the Lord forever.”

Then, when all was accomplished and her work on earth completed, Almachius sent for her to appear before him and answer the accusations brought against her. Joyfully she obeyed. The account of her trial is very remarkable, evidently taken down on the spot by some one who witnessed it, and as evidently genuine not only because of the endorsement of contemporaries, but because of some curious allusions to customs prevailing at that particular time.

Too long and diffuse to transcribe here, the proceedings opened with the usual question, a question regarded evidently as something of a farce by the onlookers, since all Rome knew of Cecilia, and the greatest excitement prevailed in the crowd that had assembled to see the noble, delicately nurtured lady brought to trial like a common criminal.