CHAPTER VII

OBLATIONS

The house into which the widow lady and her daughter entered was that used by the Christians of Nemausus as their church. A passage led into the _atrium_, a quadrangular court in the midst of the house into which most of the rooms opened, and in the center of which was a small basin of water. On the marble breasting of this tank stood, in a heathen household, the altar to the _lares et penates_, the tutelary gods of the dwelling. This court was open above for the admission of light and air, and to allow the smoke to escape. Originally this had been the central chamber of the Roman house, but eventually it became a court. It was the focus of family life, and the altar in it represented the primitive family hearth in times before civilization had developed the house out of the cabin.

Whoever entered a pagan household was expected, as token of respect, to strew a few grains of incense on the ever‐burning hearth, or to dip his fingers in the water basin and flip a few drops over the images. But in a Christian household no such altar and images of gods were to be found. A Christian gave great offense by refusing to comply with the generally received customs, and his disregard on this point of etiquette was held to be as indicative of boorishness and lack of graceful courtesy, as would be the conduct nowadays of a man who walked into a drawing‐room wearing his hat.

Immediately opposite the entrance into the _atrium_, on the further side of the tank, and beyond the altar to the _lares et penates_, elevated above the floor of the court by two or three white‐marble steps, was a semicircular chamber, with elaborate mosaic floor, and the walls richly painted. This was the _tablinum_. The paintings represented scenes from heathen mythology in such houses as belonged to pagans, but in the dwelling of Baudillas, the deacon, the pictures that had originally decorated it had been plastered over, and upon this coating green vines had been somewhat rudely drawn, with birds of various descriptions playing among the foliage and pecking at the grapes.

Around the wall were seats; and here, in a pagan house, the master received his guests. His seat was at the extremity of the apse, and was of white marble. When such a house was employed for Christian worship, the clergy occupied the seat against the wall and the bishop that of the master in the center. In the chord of the apse above the steps stood the altar, now no longer smoking nor dedicated to the _Lar pater_, but devoted to Him who is the Father of Spirits. But this altar was in itself different wholly from that which had stood by the water tank. Instead of being a block of marble, with a hearth on top, it consisted of a table on three, sometimes four, bronze legs, the slab sometimes of stone, more generally of wood.(1)

The _tablinum_ was shut off from the hall or court, except when used for the reception of guests, by rich curtains running on rings upon a rod. These curtains were drawn back or forward during the celebration of the liturgy, and this has continued to form a portion of the furniture of an Oriental church, whether Greek, Armenian, or Syrian.

In like manner the _tablinum_, with its conch‐shape termination, gave the type to the absidal chancel, so general everywhere except in England.

On the right side of the court was the _triclinium_ or dining‐room, and this was employed by the early Christians for their love‐feasts.

Owing to the protection extended by law to the colleges or clubs, the Christians sought to screen themselves from persecution by representing themselves as forming one of these clubs, and affecting their usages. Even on their tombstones they so designated themselves, “Cultores Dei,” and they were able to carry on their worship under the appearance of frequenting guild meetings. One of the notable features of such secular or semi‐religious societies was the convivial supper for the members, attended by all. The Church adopted this supper, called it Agape, but of course gave to it a special signification. It was made to be a symbol of that unity among Christians which was supposed to exist between all members. The supper was also a convenient means whereby the rich could contribute to the necessities of the poor, and was regarded as a fulfilment of the Lord’s command: “When thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind.”

Already, in the third century, the believers who belonged to the superior classes had withdrawn from them, and alleged as their excuse the command: “When thou makest a dinner or a supper, call not thy friends, nor thy brethren, neither thy kinsman, nor thy rich neighbors.” Their actual reason was, however, distaste for associating with such as belonged to the lower orders, and from being present at scenes that were not always edifying.

The house of Baudillas had once been of consequence, and his family one of position; but that had been in the early days of the colony before the indigenous Gaulish nobility had been ousted from every place of authority, and the means for enriching themselves had been drawn away by the greed of the conquerors. The quarter of the town in which was his mansion had declined in respectability. Many of the houses of the old Volcian gentry had been sold and converted into lodgings for artisans. In this case the ancestral dwelling remained in the possession of the last representative of the family, but it was out of repair, and the owner was poor.

“I hardly know what should be done,” said Baudillas to himself, rather than to the ladies he was escorting. “The Church has been enjoined to assemble this afternoon for the Agape, and our bishop, Castor, is absent at this critical juncture. He has gone on a pastoral round, taking advantage of the floods to visit, in boat, some of the outlying hamlets and villages where there are believers. It seems to me hardly prudent for us to assemble when there is such agitation of spirits. Ladies, allow my house‐keeper—she was my nurse—to conduct you where you can repose after the fatigue and distress you have undergone. She will provide dry garments for Perpetua, and hot water for her feet. The baths are the proper place, but it would be dangerous for her to adventure herself in public.”

Baudillas paced the court in anxiety of mind. He did not know what course to adopt. He was not a man of initiative. He was devoted to his duty and discharged whatever he was commanded to do with punctilious nicety; but he was thrown into helpless incapacity when undirected by a superior mind, or not controlled by a dominant will.

It would be difficult to communicate with the brethren. He had but one male servant, Pedo, who had a stiff hip‐joint. He could not send him round to give notice of a postponement, and Baudillas was not the man to take such a step without orders. Probably, said he to himself, the commotion would abate before evening. There would be much feasting in the town that afternoon. The Cultores Nemausi had their club dinner; and the families of Volcian descent made it a point of honor to entertain on that day, dedicated to their Gallic founder and hero‐god. It was precisely for this reason that the Agape had been appointed to be celebrated on the first of March. When all the lower town was holding debauch, the harmless reunion of the Christians would pass unregarded.

“What shall I do?” said the deacon. “Castor, our bishop, should not have absented himself at such a time, but then how could he have foreseen what has taken place? I will take care that the ladies be provided with whatever they may need, and then will sally forth and ascertain what temper our fellow‐citizens are in. We southerners blaze up like a fire of straw, and as soon does our flame expire. If I meet some of the brethren, I will consult with them what is to be done. As it is we have postponed the Agape till set of sun, when we deemed that all the town would be indoors merry‐making.”

An hour later, a slave of the lady Quincta arrived to say that her house was watched, and that the servants did not deem it advisable to leave with the litter, lest some attempt should be made to track them to the house where their mistress was concealed, in which case the rabble might even try to get possession of Perpetua.

Quincta was greatly alarmed at the tidings, and bade that the litter should on no account be sent. When those watching her door had been withdrawn, then a faithful slave was to announce the fact, and she and her daughter would steal home afoot. Thus passed the time, with anxiety contracting the hearts of all. Quincta was a timid woman, Baudillas, as already said, irresolute. In the afternoon, gifts began to arrive for the love‐feast. Slaves brought hampers of bread, quails, field‐fare stuffed with truffles; brown pots containing honey were also deposited by them in the passage. Others brought branches of dried raisins, apples, eggs, flasks of oil, and bouquets of spring flowers.(2)

Baudillas was relieved when the stream of oblations began to flow in, as it decided for him the matter of the Agape. It must take place—it could not be deferred, as some of the food sent was perishable.

A slave arrived laden with an _amphora_—a red earthenware bottle, pointed below, so that to maintain it upright it had to be planted in sand or ashes. On the side was a seal with the sacred symbol, showing that it contained wine set apart for religious usage.(3)

“Sir!” said the bearer, “happy is the man who tastes of this wine from Ambrussum (near Lunel).(4) It is of the color of amber, it is old, and runs like oil. The heat of the Provence sun is gathered and stored in it, to break forth and glow in the veins, to mount into and fire the brain, and to make and kindle a furnace in the heart.”

“It shall be used with discretion, Tarsius,” said the deacon.

“By Bacchus!—I ask your pardon, deacon! Old habits are not easily laid aside. What was I saying? Oh—you remarked something about discretion. For my part I consider that my master has exercised none in sending this to your love‐feast. Bah! it is casting pearls before swine to pour out this precious essence into the cups of such a beggarly, vagabond set as assemble here. The quality folk are becoming weary of these banquets and hold aloof.”

“That is sadly true,” observed Baudillas, “and the effect of this withdrawal is that it aggravates the difficulties of myself and my brethren.”

“The choice liquor is thrown away on such as you have as congregation. How can they relish the Ambrussian if they have not had their palates educated to know good liquor from bad? On my faith as a Christian! were I master instead of slave, I would send you the wine of the year when Sosius Falco and Julius Clarus were consuls—then the grapes mildewed in the bunch, and the wine is naught but vinegar, no color, no bouquet, no substance. Gentlemen and slaves can’t drink it. But I reckon that my master thinks to condone his absence by sending one of his choicest flasks.”

“You are somewhat free of tongue, Tarsius.”

“I am a frank man though enslaved. Thoughts are free, and my tongue is not enchained. I shall attend the banquet this evening. The master and mistress remain at home that we, believing members of the family, may be present at the Agape. I will trouble you, when pouring out the Ambrussian wine, not to forget that I had to sweat under the flask, to your house.”

“I think, Tarsius, I cannot do better than place the bottle under your charge. You know its value, and the force of the wine. Distribute as you see fit.”

“Aye; I know who will appreciate it, and who are unworthy of a drop. I accept the responsibility. You do wisely, deacon, in trusting me—a knowing one,” and he slapped his breast and pursed up his mouth.

Then another servant appeared with a basket.

“Here, sir!” said he to the deacon. “I bring you honey‐cakes. The lady Lampridia sends them. She is infirm and unable to leave her house, but she would fain do something for the poor, the almoners of Christ. She sends you these and also garments that she has made for children. She desires that you will distribute them among such parents as have occasion for them.”

Next came a man of equestrian rank, and drew the deacon aside.

“Where is Castor?” he inquired in an agitated voice. “I cannot appear this evening. The whole town is in effervescence. Inquisition may be made for us Christians. There will be a tumult. When they persecute you in one city—fly to another! That is the divine command, and I shall obey it to the letter. I have sent forward servants and mules—and shall escape with my wife and children to my villa.”

“The bishop is away. He will be back this evening. I have not known what to do, whether or not to postpone the Agape to another day.”

“No harm will come of it if you hold the feast. None will attend save the poor and such as are on the books of the Church, the widows and those to whom a good meal is a boon. The authorities will not trouble themselves about the like of them. I don’t relish the aspect of affairs, and shall be off before the storm breaks.” Then the knight added hastily, “Here is money, distribute it, and bid the recipients pray for me and mine, that no harm befall us.”

Baudillas saw that the man was quaking with apprehension. “Verily,” said he to himself, “It is a true saying, ‘How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of Heaven.’ I wonder now, whether I have acted judiciously in entrusting that old Ambrussian to Tarsius? If the bishop had been here, I could have consulted him.”

So a weak, but good man, may even do a thing fraught with greater mischief than can be done with evil intent by an adversary.