CHAPTER III.

AND LAST.

The next morning, the pilgrim proceeded to discharge the business which had been interfered with by the circumstances related in the preceding chapter. He might have been first seen busily employed inquiring after some one about the Januses in the Forum. At length, the person was found; and the two walked towards a dirty little office under the Capitol, on the ascent called the _Clivus Asyli_. Old musty books were brought out, and searched column after column, till they came to the date of the “Consuls Dioclesian Augustus, the eighth time, and Maximian Herculeus Augustus, the seventh time.”[240] Here they found sundry entries, with reference to certain documents. A roll of mouldy parchments of that date was produced, docketed as referred to, and the number corresponding to the entries was drawn out, and examined. The result of the investigation seemed perfectly satisfactory to both parties.

“It is the first time in my life,” said the owner of the den, “that I ever knew a person who had got clear off, come back, after fifteen years, to inquire after his debts. A Christian, I presume, sir?”

“Certainly, by God’s mercy.”

“I thought as much; good morning, sir. I shall be happy to accommodate you at any time, at as reasonable rates as my father Ephraim, now with Abraham. A great fool that for his pains, I must say, begging his pardon,” he added, when the stranger was out of hearing.

With a decided step and a brighter countenance than he had yet displayed, he went straight to the villa on the Nomentan way; and after again paying his devotions in the crypt, but with a lighter heart, he at once addressed the fossor, as if they had never been parted: “Torquatus, can I speak with the Lady Fabiola?”

“Certainly,” answered the other; “come this way.”

Neither alluded, as they went along, to old times, nor to the intermediate history of either. There seemed to be an understanding, instinctive to both, that all the past was to be obliterated before men, as they hoped it was before God. Fabiola had remained at home that and the preceding day, in hopes of the stranger’s return. She was seated in the garden close to a fountain, when Torquatus, pointing to her, retired.

She rose, as she saw the long-expected visitor approach, and an indescribable emotion thrilled through her, when she found herself standing in his presence.

“Madam,” he said, in a tone of deep humility and earnest simplicity. “I should never have presumed to present myself before you, had not an obligation of justice, as well as many of gratitude, obliged me.”

“Orontius,” she replied,--“is this the name by which I must address you?” (he signified his assent) “you can have no obligations towards me, except that which our great Apostle charges on us, that we love one another.”

“I know you feel so. And therefore I would not have pretended, unworthy as I am, to intrude upon you for any lower motive than one of strict duty. I know what gratitude I owe you for the kindness and affection lavished upon one now dearer to me than any sister can be on earth, and how you discharged towards her the offices of love which I had neglected.”

“And thereby sent her to me,” interposed Fabiola, “to be my angel of life. Remember, Orontius, that Joseph was sold by his brethren, only that he might save his race.”

“You are too good, indeed, towards one so worthless,” resumed the pilgrim; “but I will not thank you for your kindness to another who has repaid you so richly. Only this morning I have learnt your mercy to one who could have no claim upon you.”

“I do not understand you,” observed Fabiola.

“Then I will tell you all plainly,” rejoined Orontius. “I have now been for many years a member of one of those communities in Palestine, of men who live separated from the world in desert places, dividing their day, and even their night, between singing the Divine praises, contemplation, and the labor of their hands. Severe penance for our past transgressions, fasting, mourning, and prayer form the great duty of our penitential state. Have you heard of such men here?”

“The fame of holy Paul and Anthony is as great in the West as in the East,” replied the lady.

“It is with the greatest disciple of the latter that I have lived, supported by his great example, and the consolation he has given me. But one thought troubled me, and prevented my feeling complete assurance of safety even after years of expiation. Before I left Rome I had contracted a heavy debt, which must have been accumulating at a frightful rate of interest, till it had reached an overwhelming amount. Yet it was an obligation deliberately contracted, and not to be justly evaded. I was a poor cenobite,[241] barely living on the produce of the few palm-leaf mats that I could weave, and the scanty herbs that would grow in the sand. How could I discharge my obligations?

“Only one means remained. I could give myself up to my creditor as a slave, to labor for him and endure his blows and scornful reproaches in patience, or to be sold by him for my value, for I am yet strong. In either case, I should have had my Saviour’s example to cheer and support me. At any rate, I should have given up all that I had--myself.

“I went this morning to the Forum, found my creditor’s son, examined his accounts, and found that you had discharged my debt in full. I am, therefore, your bondsman, Lady Fabiola, instead of the Jew’s.” And he knelt humbly at her feet.

“Rise, rise,” said Fabiola, turning away her weeping eyes. “You are no bondsman of mine, but a dear brother in our common Lord.”

Then sitting down with him, she said: “Orontius, I have a great favor to ask from you. Give me some account of how you were brought to that life, which you have so generously embraced.”

“I will obey you as briefly as possible. I fled, as you know, one sorrowful night from Rome, accompanied by a man”--his voice choked him.

“I know, I know whom you mean,--Eurotas,” interrupted Fabiola.

“The same, the curse of our house, the author of all mine, and my dear sister’s, sufferings. We had to charter a vessel at great expense from Brundusium, whence we sailed for Cyprus. We attempted commerce and various speculations, but all failed. There was manifestly a curse on all that we undertook. Our means melted away, and we were obliged to seek some other country. We crossed over to Palestine, and settled for a while at Gaza. Very soon we were reduced to distress; every body shunned us, we knew not why; but my conscience told me that the mark of Cain was on my brow.”

Orontius paused and wept for a time, then went on:

“At length, when all was exhausted, and nothing remained but a few jewels, of considerable price indeed, but with which, I knew not why, Eurotas would not part, he urged me to take up the odious office of denouncing Christians; for a furious persecution was breaking out. For the first time in my life I rebelled against his commands, and refused to obey. One day he asked me to walk out of the gates; we wandered far, till we came to a delightful spot in the midst of the desert. It was a narrow dell, covered with verdure, and shaded by palm-trees; a little clear stream ran down, issuing from a spring in a rock at the head of the valley. In this rock we saw grottoes and caverns; but the place seemed uninhabited. Not a sound could be heard but the bubbling of the water.

“We sat down to rest, when Eurotas addressed me in a fearful speech. The time was come, he told me, when we must both fulfil the dreadful resolution he had taken, that we must not survive the ruin of our family. Here we must both die; the wild beasts would consume our bodies, and no one would know the end of its last representatives.

“So saying, he drew forth two small flasks of unequal sizes, handed me the larger one, and swallowed the contents of the smaller.

“I refused to take it, and even reproached him for the difference of our doses; but he replied that he was old, and I young; and that they were proportioned to our respective strengths. I still refused, having no wish to die. But a sort of demoniacal fury seemed to come over him; he seized me with a giant’s grasp, as I sat on the ground, threw me on my back, and exclaiming, ‘We must both perish together,’ forcibly poured the contents of the phial, without sparing me a drop, down my throat.

“In an instant, I was unconscious; and remained so, till I awoke in a cavern, and faintly called for drink. A venerable old man, with a white beard, put a wooden bowl of water to my lips. ‘Where is Eurotas?’ I asked. ‘Is that your companion?’ inquired the old monk. ‘Yes,’ I answered. ‘He is dead,’ was the reply. I know not by what fatality this had happened; but I bless God with all my heart, for having spared me.

“That old man was Hilarion, a native of Gaza, who, having spent many years with the holy Anthony in Egypt, had that year[242] returned to establish the cenobitic and eremitical life in his own country, and had already collected several disciples. They lived in the caves hard by, and took their refection under the shade of those palms, and softened their dry food in the water of that fountain.

“Their kindness to me, their cheerful piety, their holy lives, won on me as I recovered. I saw the religion which I had persecuted in a sublime form; and rapidly recalled to mind the instructions of my dear mother, and the example of my sister; so that yielding to grace, I bewailed my sins at the feet of God’s minister,[243] and received baptism on Easter-eve.”

“Then we are doubly brethren, nay twin children of the Church; for I was born to eternal life, also, on that day. But what do you intend to do now?”

“Set out this evening on my return. I have accomplished the two objects of my journey. The first was to cancel my debt; my second was to lay an offering on the shrine of Agnes. You will remember,” he added, smiling, “that your good father unintentionally deceived me into the idea, that she coveted the jewels I displayed. Fool that I was! But I resolved, after my conversion, that she should possess the best that remained in Eurotas’s keeping; so I brought it to her.”

“But have you means for your journey?” asked the lady, timidly.

“Abundant,” he replied, “in the charity of the faithful. I have letters from the Bishop of Gaza, which procure me every where sustenance and lodging; but I will accept from you a cup of water and a morsel of bread, in the name of a disciple.”

They rose, and were advancing towards the house, when a woman rushed madly through the shrubs, and fell at their feet, exclaiming: “Oh, save me! dear mistress, save me! He is pursuing me, to kill me!”

Fabiola recognized, in the poor creature, her former slave Jubala; but her hair was grizzly and dishevelled, and her whole aspect bespoke abject misery. She asked whom she meant.

“My husband,” she replied; “long has he been harsh and cruel, but to-day he is more brutal than usual. Oh, save me from him!”

“There is no danger here,” replied the lady; “but I fear, Jubala, you are far from happy. I have not seen you for a long, long time.”

“No, dear lady, why should I come to tell you of all my woes? Oh! why did I ever leave you and your house, where I ought to have been so happy? I might then with you, and Graja, and good old departed Euphrosyne, have learnt to be good myself, and have embraced Christianity!”

“What, have you really been thinking of this, Jubala?”

“For a long time, lady, in my sorrows and remorse. For I have seen how happy Christians are, even those who have been as wicked as myself. And because I hinted this to my husband this morning, he has beaten me, and threatened to take my life. But, thank God, I have been making myself acquainted with Christian doctrines, through the teaching of a friend.”

“How long has this bad treatment gone on, Jubala?” asked Orontius, who had heard of it from his uncle.

“Ever,” she replied, “since soon after marriage, I told him of an offer made to me previously, by a dark foreigner, named Eurotas. Oh! he was indeed a wicked man, a man of black passions and remorseless villany. Connected with him, is my most racking recollection.”

“How was that?” asked Orontius, with eager curiosity.

“Why, when he was leaving Rome, he asked me to prepare for him two narcotic potions; one for any enemy, he said, should he be taken prisoner. This was to be certainly fatal; another had to suspend consciousness for a few hours only, should he require it for himself.

“When he came for them, I was just going to explain to him, that, contrary to appearances, the small phial contained a fatally concentrated poison, and the large one a more diluted and weaker dose. But my husband came in at the moment, and in a fit of jealousy thrust me from the room. I fear some mistake may have been committed, and that unintentional death may have ensued.”

Fabiola and Orontius looked at one another in silence, wondering at the just dispensations of Providence; when they were aroused by a shriek from the woman. They were horrified at seeing an arrow quivering in her bosom. As Fabiola supported her, Orontius, looking behind him, caught a glimpse of a black face grinning hideously through the fence. In the next moment a Numidian was seen flying away on his horse, with his bow bent, Parthian-wise over his shoulder, ready for any pursuer. The arrow had passed, unobserved, between Orontius and the lady.

“Jubala,” asked Fabiola, “dost thou wish to die a Christian?”

“Most earnestly,” she replied.

“Dost thou believe in One God in Three Persons?”

“I firmly believe in all the Christian Church teaches.”

“And in Jesus Christ, who was born and died for our sins?”

“Yes, in all that you believe.” The reply was more faint.

“Make haste, make haste, Orontius,” cried Fabiola, pointing to the fountain.

He was already at its basin, filling full his two hands, and coming instantly, poured their contents on the head of the poor African, pronouncing the words of baptism; and, as she expired, the water of regeneration mingled with her blood of expiation.

After this distressing, yet consoling, scene, they entered the house, and instructed Torquatus about the burial to be given to this doubly-baptized convert.

Orontius was struck with the simple neatness of the house, so strongly contrasting with the luxurious splendor of Fabiola’s former dwelling. But suddenly his attention was arrested, in a small inner room, by a splendid shrine or casket, set with jewels, but with an embroidered curtain before it, so as to allow only the frame of it to be seen. Approaching nearer, he read inscribed on it:

“THE BLOOD OF THE BLESSED MIRIAM, SHED BY CRUEL HANDS!”

Orontius turned deadly pale; then changed to a deep crimson; and almost staggered.

Fabiola saw this, and going up to him kindly and frankly, placed her hand upon his arm, and mildly said to him:

“Orontius, there is that within, which may well make us both blush deeply, but not therefore despond.”

So saying she drew aside the curtain, and Orontius saw within a crystal plate, the embroidered scarf so much connected with his own, and his sister’s history. Upon it were lying two sharp weapons, the points of both which were rusted with blood. In one he recognized his own dagger; the other appeared to him like one of those instruments of female vengeance, with which he knew heathen ladies punished their attendant slaves.

“We have both,” said Fabiola, “unintentionally inflicted a wound, and shed the blood of her, whom now we honor as a sister in heaven. But for my part, from the day when I did so, and gave her occasion to display her virtue, I date the dawn of grace upon my soul. What say you, Orontius?”

“That I, likewise, from the instant that I so misused her, and led to her exhibition of such Christian heroism, began to feel the hand of God upon me, that has led me to repentance and forgiveness.”

“It is thus ever,” concluded Fabiola. “The example of our Lord has made the martyrs; and the example of the martyrs leads us upwards to Him. Their blood softens our hearts; His alone cleanses our souls. Theirs pleads for mercy; His bestows it.

“May the Church, in her days of peace and of victories, never forget what she owes to the age of her martyrs. As for us two, we are indebted to it for our spiritual lives. May many, who will only read of it, draw from it the same mercy and grace!”

They knelt down, and prayed long together silently before the shrine.

They then parted, to meet no more.

After a few years, spent by Orontius in penitential fervor, a green mound by the palms, in the little dell near Gaza, marked the spot where he slept the sleep of the just.

And after many years of charity and holiness, Fabiola withdrew to rest in peace, in company with Agnes and Miriam.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Hot-baths.

[2] Lib. iv. ep. 16.

[3] The Pompeian Court in the Crystal Palace, London, will have familiarized many readers with the forms of an ancient house.

[4] This custom suggests to St. Augustine the beautiful idea, that the Jews were the _pædagogi_ of Christianity,--carrying for it the books which they themselves could not understand.

[5] The peculiar epithet of the Catacombs.

[6] The _pancratium_ was the exercise which combined all other personal contests,--wrestling, boxing, etc.

[7] The implements of writing in schools, the tablets being covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the sharp point, and effaced by the flat top, of the style.

[8] The hand-bandages worn in pugilistic combats.

[9] One of the many calumnies popular among the heathens.

[10] This scene is taken from a real occurrence.

[11] Church and gate of San Pancrazio.

[12] Old St. Pancras’s Church, London, the favorite burial-place of Catholics, till they had cemeteries of their own.

[13] Anastastasius, Biblioth, _in vita Honorii_.

[14] Pronounced with the accent on the _i_.

[15] The milk of 500 asses per day was required to furnish Poppæa, Nero’s wife, with one cosmetic.

[16] The dining-hall.

[17] Black antimony applied on the eyelids.

[18] Not all of me will die.

[19] Job xix. 27.

[20] See the noble answer of Evalpistus, an imperial slave, to the judge, in the Acts of St. Justin, ap. Ruinart, tom. i.

[21] Church.

[22] “Thy eyes are as those of cloves.”--_Cantic._ i. 14.

[23] Twelve was the age for marriage according to the Roman law.

[24] “Annulo fidei suæ subarrhavit me, et immensis monilibus ornavit me.”--_Office of St. Agnes._

[25] “Dexteram meam et collum meum cinxit lapidibus pretiosis, tradidit auribus meis inæstimabiles margaritas.”

[26] So called from its resemblance to the letter C, the old form of Σ.

[27] Gloves.

[28] Lucian: De Morte Peregrini.

[29] “Magnificæ nemo negat; sed quæ potest esse homini polito delectatio, quum aut homo imbecillus a valentissima bestia laniatur, aut præclara bestia venabulo transverberatur?”--_Ep. ad Fam._ lib. vii. ep. 1.

[30] Porridge.

[31] Vengeance.

[32] 1 Cor. vii. 24.

[33] 1 Pet. ii. 14.

[34] A famous sorceress in Augustus’s age.

[35] The worship of interior Africa.

[36] “The sweating goal.” It was an obelisk of brick (which yet remains), cased with marble, from the top of which issued water, and flowed down like a sheet of glass, all round it, into a basin on the ground.

[37] The triumphal arch of Titus, on which are represented the spoils of the Temple.

[38] The arch of Constantine stands exactly under the spot where this scene is described.

[39] The place where live beasts were kept for the shows.

[40] Gaeta.

[41] The generic name for the wild beasts of that continent, as opposed to bears and others from the north.

[42] It is not mentioned what it precisely was.

[43] These were the popular ideas of Christian worship.

[44] Now Monte Cavo, above Albano.

[45] “Vidi supra montem Agnum stantem, de sub cujus pede fons vivus emanat.”--_Office of St. Clement._

[46] Ammianus Marcellinus tells us that, at the decline of the empire, the streets at night were lighted so as to rival day. “Et hæc confidenter agebat (Gallus) ubi pernoctantium luminum claritudo dierum solet imitari fulgorem.” Lib. xiv. c. 1.

[47] Roma Subterr. 1. iii. c. 22.

[48] Euseb. E. H. 1. vi. c. 43.

[49] No domestic concealment surely could be more difficult than that of a wife’s religion from her husband. Yet Tertullian supposes this to have been not uncommon. For, speaking of a married woman communicating herself at home, according to practice in those ages of persecution, he says, “Let not your husband know what you taste secretly, before every other food; and if he shall know of the bread, may he not know it to be what it is called.” _Ad Uxor._ lib. ii. c. 5. Whereas, in another place, he writes of a Catholic husband and wife giving communion to one another. _De Monogamia_, c. 11.

[50] The Vicus Patricius.

[51] Job xxix. 15.

[52] The place most noted in the neighborhood of Rome for whining and importunate beggars.

[53] Is. i. 9.

[54] “Ne quis hæredem virginem neque mulierem faceret,” that no one should leave a virgin or a woman his heiress.--_Cicero in Verrem_, i.

[55] The upper part of the Quirinal, leading to the Nomentan gate, _Porta Pia_.

[56] “Cujus pulchritudinem sol et luna mirantur, ipsi soli servo fidem.”--_Office of St. Agnes._

[57] We have it recorded of Nepotian, that on his conversion he distributed all his property to the poor. St. Paulinus of Nola did the same.

[58] “Dabis impio militi quod non vis dare sacerdoti, et hoc tollit fiscus, quod con accipit Christus.”--_St. Aug._

[59] “Be pleased to render, O Lord, eternal life to all who for Thy Name’s sake do unto us good things.”

[60] _Pampinus_, _pampino_.

[61] _Ocelli Italiæ._

[62] Such as are given by Macrobius in his _Saturnalia_, lib. i., and by Valerius Maximus.

[63] Matt. xii. 11.

[64] “The Villa of Statues,” or “at the Statues.”

[65] “At” or “_to_ the palms.”

[66] Jos. vii.

[67] There was no post in those days, and persons wishing to send letters had to dispatch an express, or find some opportunity.

[68] Matt. v. 44.

[69] A whirlpool between Italy and Sicily.

[70] The heathen notion of the Blessed Eucharist.

[71] “Diogenes, the excavator, deposited in peace, eight days before the first of October.”--From St. Sebastian’s. Boldetti, i. 15, p. 60.

[72] “From New Street. Pollecla, who sells barley in New Street.” Found in the cemetery of Callistus.

[73] Given by F. Marchi in his _Architecture of Subterranean Christian Rome_, 1844; a work on which we will freely draw.

[74] The number, unfortunately, is not intelligible, being in cipher.

[75] In the cemetery of St. Agnes, pieces of lime have been found in tombs forming exact moulds of different parts of the body, with the impression of a finer linen inside, and a coarser outside. As to spices and balsams, Tertullian observes that “the Arabs and Sabæans well know that the Christians annually consume more for their dead than the heathen world did for its gods.”

[76] These terms will be explained later.

[77] On the 22d of April, 1823, this tomb was discovered unviolated. On being opened the bones, white, bright, and polished as ivory, were found, corresponding to the framework of a youth of eighteen. At his head was the phial of blood. With the head to his feet was the skeleton of a boy, of twelve or thirteen, black and charred chiefly at the head and upper parts, down to the middle of the thigh-bones, from which to the feet the bones gradually whitened. The two bodies, richly clothed, repose side by side under the altar of the Jesuits’ college at Loreto.

[78] Better known as Caracalla’s.

[79] The person who had charge of the bathers’ clothes, from _capsa_, a chest.

[80] “Cucumio and Victoria made (the tomb) for themselves while living. _Capsarius_ of the Antonine” (baths). Found in the cemetery of Callistus, first published by F. Marchi, who attributes it, erroneously, to the cemetery of Prætextatus.

[81] “Marcus Antonius Restitutus made this subterranean for himself and his family, that trust in the Lord.” Lately found in the cemetery of SS. Nereus and Achilleus. It is singular that in the inscription of the martyr Restitutus, given in the last chapter, as in this, a syllable should be omitted in the name, one easily slurred in pronouncing it.

[82] Sixty was the full age, but admission was given sometimes at forty.

[83] Now St. Sebastian’s. The older _Porta Capena_ was nearly a mile within the present.

[84] As _Ad Nymphas, Ad Ursum pileatum, Inter duas lauros, Ad Sextum Philippi_, &c.

[85] The cemetery at St. Cæcilia’s tomb.

[86] Formed apparently of a Greek preposition and a Latin verb.

[87] That is, the red volcanic sand called _puzzolana_, so much prized for making Roman cement.

[88] Locus, loculus.

[89] That of SS. Nereus and Achilleus.

[90] So F. Marchi calculates them, after diligent examination. We may mention here that, in the construction of these cemeteries, the sand extracted from one gallery was removed into another already excavated. Hence many are now found completely filled up.

[91] One or two entries from the old _Kalendarium Romanum_ will illustrate this:

“iii. Non. Mart. Lucii in Callisti. vi. Id. Dec. Eutichiani in Callisti. xiii. Kal. Feb. Fabiani in Callisti, et Sebastiani ad Catacumbas. viii. Id. Aug. Systi in Callisti.”

We have extracted these entries of depositions in the cemetery of Callistus, because, while actually writing this chapter, we have received news of the discovery of the tombs and lapidary inscriptions of every one of these Popes, together with those of St. Antherus, in one chapel of the newly-ascertained cemetery of Callistus, with an inscription in verse by St. Damasus:

“Prid. Kal. Jan. Sylvestri in Priscillæ. iv. Id. (Aug.) Laurentii in Tiburtina. iii. Kal. Dec. Saturnini in Thrasonis.”

Published by Ruinart,--Acta, tom. iii.

[92] Acta Martyr. tom. iii.

[93] S. Greg. Turon, de Gloria Mart. lib. i. c. 28, ap. Marchi, p. 81. One would apply St. Damasus’s epigram on these martyrs to this occurrence, Carm. xxviii.

[94] Published by Bucherius in 1634.

[95] (Of) ... nelius martyr.

[96] The crypt, we believe, was discovered before the stairs.

[97] Of Cornelius Martyr Bishop.

[98] These form the great bulk of his extant works in verse.

[99] “(The picture) of St. Cornelius Pope, of St. Cyprian.” On the other side, on a narrow wall projecting at a right angle, are two more similar portraits; but only one name can be deciphered, that of St. Sixtus, or, as he is there and elsewhere called, Sustus. On the paintings of the principal saints may still be read, scratched in the mortar, in characters of the seventh century, the names of visitors to the tomb. Those of two priests are thus--

✠LEO [=PRB] I ANNIS [=PRB].

It may be interesting to add the entry in the Roman calendar.

“xviii. Kal. Oct. Cypriani Africæ: Romæ celebratur in Callisti.” “Sept. 14. (The deposition) of Cyprian in Africa: at Rome it is kept in (the cemetery) of Callistus.”

[100] Pope Pius IX.--_Pub._

[101] Chambers.

[102]

“Sic venerarier ossa libet, Ossibus altar et impositum; _Illa Dei sita sub pedibus_, Prospicit hæc, populosque suos Carmine propitiata fovet.” _Prudentius, περι στε_ iii. 43.

“With her relics gathered here, The altar o’er them placed revere, _She beneath God’s feet reposes_, Nor to us her soft eye closes, Nor her gracious ear.”

The idea that the martyr lies “beneath the feet of God” is an allusion to the Real Presence in the Blessed Eucharist.

[103] The arched tombs were so called. A homely illustration would be an arched fireplace, walled up to the height of three feet. The paintings would be inside, above the wall.

[104] The word is usually given in Greek, and Christ is familiarly called the _ιχθυς, ichthys_.

[105] This is the interpretation of St. Optatus (_adv. Parm._ lib. iii.) and St. Augustine (_de C. D._ lib. xviii. c. 23).

[106] This is Tertullian’s explanation (_de Baptismo_, lib. ii. c. 2).

[107] In the same cemetery is another interesting painting. On a table lie a loaf and a fish; a priest is stretching his hands over them; and opposite is a female figure in adoration. The priest is the same as, in a picture close by, is represented administering baptism. In another chamber just cleared out, are very ancient decorations, such as masks, &c., and fishes bearing baskets of bread and flasks of wine, on their backs as they swim.

[108] The type of the figure is that of St. Peter, as he is represented to us in the cemeteries. On a glass, bearing a picture of this scene, the person striking the rock has written over his head PETRVS.

[109] There are several repetitions of this painting. One has been lately found, if we remember right, in the cemetery of Nereus and Achilleus. It is long anterior to the Council of Chalcedon, whence this mode of representing our Lord is usually dated. It is given in our title-page.

[110] The Lateran house or palace.

[111] Inscription on the front, and medals, of the Lateran Basilica.

[112] These are the very words of Decius, on the election of St. Cornelius to the See of St. Peter: “Cum multo patientius audiret levari adversum se æmulum principem, quam constitui Romæ Dei sacerdotem.” _S. Cypr. Ep. lii. ad Antonianum_, p. 69, ed. Maur. Could there be a stronger proof, that under the heathen empire, the papal power was sensible and external, even to the extent of exciting imperial jealousy?

[113] “As a sated guest.”

[114] A fashionable watering-place near Naples.

[115] A large earthenware vessel, in which wine was kept in the cellar.

[116] These instruments of cruelty are mentioned in the _Acts of the Martyrs_, and in ecclesiastical historians.

[117] “Sopra l’antichissimo altare di legno, rinchiuso nell’ altare papale,” &c. “On the most ancient wooden altar, enclosed in the papal altar of the most holy Lateran basilica.” By Monsig. D. Bartolini. Rome, 1852.

[118] Acts x.

[119] 2 Tim. iv. 21.

[120] A second or younger Pudens is spoken of.

[121] May the 19th.

[122] Verses 17, 18.

[123] It is not necessary to go into the classical uses of the word _titulus_.

[124] Only the Pope can say Mass on it, or a cardinal, by authority of a special bull. This high altar has been lately magnificently decorated. A plank of the wooden altar has always been preserved in St. Peter’s altar, at St. Pudentiana’s. It has been lately compared with the wood of the Lateran altar, and found to be identical.

[125] Its site is now occupied by the Caetani chapel.

[126] Prefixed to the Maurist edition of his works, or in Ruinart, i.

[127] Ο προεστως, _prœpositus_, see Heb. xiii. 17. Ο των Ρωμαιων προεστως Βικτωρ, “Victor bishop of the Romans.” Euseb. H. E. I. v. 24. The Greek word used is the same as in St. Justin.

[128] The learned Bianchini plausibly conjectures that the _station_ on Easter Sunday is not at the Lateran (the cathedral), nor at St. Peter’s, where the Pope officiates, at one of which it would naturally be expected to be, but at the Liberian basilica, because it used to be held for the administration of baptism at St. Pudentiana’s, which is only a stone’s throw from it.

[129] “Cinnamius Opas Lector, of the _title_ of Fasciola” (now SS. Nereus and Achilleus), “the friend of the poor, who lived forty-six years, seven months, and eight days. Interred in peace the tenth day before the calends of March.” From St. Paul’s.

[130] “Macedonius, an exorcist of the Catholic Church.” From the cemetery of SS. Thraso and Saturninus, on the Salarian way.

[131] In the great and old basilicas of Rome the celebrant faces the faithful.

[132] “The day before the first of June ceased to live Prætiosa, a girl (_puella_), a virgin of only twelve years of age, the handmaid of God and of Christ. In the consulship of Flavius Vincentius, and Fravitus, a consular man.” Found in the cemetery of Callistus.

[133] _Vetus et Nova Ecclesiæ Disciplina; circa Beneficia._ Par. I. lib. iii. (Luc. 1727.)

[134] Thomass. p. 792.

[135] “Jesus the virgin’s crown,” the hymn for virgins.

[136] “Posuit signum in faciem meam, ut nullum præter eum amatorem admittam.” _Office of St. Agnes._

[137] “Mel et lac ex ejus ore suscepi, et sanguis ejus ornavit genas meas.” _Ibid._

[138] “Discede a me pabulum mortis, quia jam ab alio amatore præventa sum.” “Ipsi soli servo fidem, ipsi me tota devotione committo.” “Quem cum amavero casta sum, cum tetigero munda sum, cum accepero virgo sum.” _Ibid._

[139] “Est autem sabaia ex hordeo vel frumento in liquorem conversis paupertinus in Illyrico potus.” “Sabaia is the drink of the poor in Illyria, made of barley or wheat, transformed into a liquid.” _Ammian. Marcellinus_, lib. xxvi. 8, p. 422, ed. Lips.

[140] A.D. 258.

[141] Prudentius, in his hymn on St. Laurence.

[142] “Our lords Dioclesian and Maximian, the unconquered, elder Augusti, fathers of the Emperors and Cæsars.”

[143] The name of the Emperor.

[144] See Lucian’s address to the judge, upon Ptolemæus’s condemnation, in the beginning of St. Justin’s Second _Apology_, or Ruinart, vol. i. p. 120.

[145] There was one cemetery called _ad sextum Philippi_, which is supposed to have been situated six miles from Rome; but many were three miles from the heart of the city.

[146] _Ad Uxorem_, lib. ii. c. 5.

[147] When the Vatican cemetery was explored, in 1571, there were found in tombs two small square golden boxes, with a ring at the top of the