Symmachus Boethius was another survivor of an ancient and renowned family. His maternal ancestor had been a bright model of learning and virtue in the days of Constantine and his immediate successors. Scholar, statesman, and orator, he gave new life and vigour to the literature of Rome, and he was zealous for the ancient faith. He remonstrated with the Emperor Gratian on the removal of the altar of victory from the Senate in 384. His letters are extant, and that in favour of the altar of victory is, we are told, infinitely superior to the verbose, abusive, and dishonest reply of St. Ambrose. Proconsul in Achaia and Africa, he had great wealth, estates in Campania, Sicily, and Mauritania, and a mansion on the Caelian Hill. His descendants for four generations were all distinguished. The fifth in descent, named Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus, had an only daughter Rusticiana. She was happily married to Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, whose father was consul in 487. Boethius was famous for his learning and for his charities. He was accused of a wish to free Rome from the Goths, was condemned unheard, and put to death, with his son, by order of Theodoric. His Consolatio Philosophiæ, written in prison, shows that he was not a Christian. Rusticiana was reduced to poverty until her property was restored by Theodoric's daughter Amalasontha. At the sack of Rome in 541 she was again reduced to beggary, and was only saved from death by the intervention of Totila.

Anicius Severinus Boethius, the son of the great Boethius and of Rusticiana, was consul in 522, and died, soon after his mother, in 570. He had succeeded in recovering his Sicilian estates, and in raising the fortunes of his family sufficiently to be able to reside in the fine old mansion of the Symmachus family on the Caelian. His son Symmachus Boethius continued to prosper, and, at the time of which we speak, he was one of the few wealthy patricians of Rome. His wife was a virtuous lady named Otacilia. His villa made some pretensions to its ancient splendour, and its owner, now a man between fifty and sixty, outwardly conformed to the Christian religion, as all who valued their peace and safety were bound to do in those days. The religion of Ambrose and of Gregory became a persecuting religion as soon as its hierarchy had the power to persecute. In this and in other essentials it differed widely from the religion of Christ. By ready conformity the patricians Pamphronius and Symmachus Boethius maintained friendly relations with the Deacon Gregory and his monks of St. Andrew, who were their neighbours on the Caelian Hill. They were consulted on the affairs of the city, especially on the absorbing questions relating to food–supply, but all real power was in the hands of the Bishop and clergy, whose preaching swayed the mob. Gregory was, indeed, a remarkable personality. His character presented a singular mixture of sense and superstition, pride and humility, simplicity and cunning; and through all there was that touch of sympathy which secured the support of the multitude, and that burning and impulsive zeal which seemed to carry all before it, and which was mainly directed to the propagation of his faith. His worst trait was his unprincipled time–serving. When the good Emperor Maurice was murdered, whom he knew well, and from whom he had received much kindness, he wrote a flattering letter to his murderer Phocas, one of the most infamous wretches that ever disgraced the purple, which is worded in a way that is simply revolting. It needs much zeal to atone for such baseness.

These were the leaders of Rome, but not of living Rome. They were like small crabs in a great dead shell. It is difficult to realise the effect on the mind of any one then coming to Rome for the first time, and gazing upon the superb baths and theatres, the splendid temples and halls in long vistas, all desolate and abandoned, with here and there a priceless work of art thrown down and broken. Everywhere silence and desolation, except where some monk might be seen preaching to a squalid group, or where half–starved crowds assembled at church doors for doles of food. The population had dwindled from millions to thousands, and clergy had taken the place of soldiery and well–to–do citizens of the empire, but in much smaller numbers. Still there were a few wealthy people, sufficient to induce traders to expose valuable goods for sale.

MYSTACON ATTACKED BY HIS BOY CAPTIVES

Mystacon, when he arrived in his vessel, found the port of Ostia quite empty, and there was ample space at his disposal in the long row of dilapidated emporia facing the Tiber, at the foot of Mount Aventine. Here his goods were warehoused until the day of the market, which was then held in the beautiful Forum of Trajan. He now had to disclose his real intention to the English boys. He had safely housed them in a large room, with plenty of his own hirelings always more or less on guard outside. He opened his communication by dwelling upon his kindness and liberality, on having saved their lives when the sea–thieves would have killed them, and on the gratitude they owed him. At last the truth came out. He would be obliged to sell them in the market, owing to the great expense they had been to him, and if a sufficient sum could not be obtained, he would have to take them to Ravenna or to Constantinople. He was unprepared for the outburst of rage and fury with which his base scheme was received by the little boys. They told him that Hereric was an atheling, and that all were the sons of thegns, better born than any one in Rome. Their eyes flamed with Berserker madness as they cried out that they would kill him as they would kill a wild–cat or a badger, and Forthere actually flew at his throat. The coward was taken by surprise. He cried out for help, and could not collect his ideas and decide upon the course to take until the lads were all tied hand and foot. He was in great perplexity. A violent scene at the market was out of the question. His wish was to flog them within an inch of their lives; but, as he had told his deceased accomplices, damaged goods only fetch half–price. He must display them with whole skins. At last he determined to starve them into submission. He told them that they would have no food until they consented to go quietly to the Forum, and left them with the door well barred. For more than thirty–six hours they resolutely held out, but the bigger boys could not bear to hear little Godric and Sivel crying for food. They turned to Porlor for his counsel. None of them had been more furious, none of them now felt a stronger desire to kill the treacherous villain who had employed the kidnappers, as they now fully believed. He said that the shame was almost more than they could bear, but that it would at least be a great gain to be free from Mystacon. No master could be worse, and when they were older and stronger they could defy any master to detain them. "But the shame! the shame!" moaned Coelred and Oswith, as they lay with their heads in their hands prone to the ground. It had to be done. The next time Mystacon came, Porlor told him to bring food, and that they would go without resistance. The boys had few words and could not scold. But the villain was told that they knew him as he was, far viler and baser than the sea–thieves, a niddring and a liar, and that some day they would kill him. He sent them plenty of food, and his sickly smile betokened malice not unmixed with fear. His mind was, however, relieved: he would get his price.

"To be sold as slaves!" In all their thoughts of possible danger and suffering, they had never anticipated anything so bad as this. They called to mind the words that the sounds in the forest seemed to form themselves into, and shuddered. But after hours of despondency the brave little fellows took heart. Coelred was the leader who now urged his companions to remember the words of the Princess. They talked long and anxiously, but before they laid down their heads to sleep, they had, with one accord, all raised their right hands and cried—"Come what may, we will quit ourselves like men—above all, like Englishmen!"