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Jovinian replied that he had but just left Eugenia and Julia, and trusted that Severus, being accompanied by the fossor, would have been enabled to conceal himself from the assassins, even should they have gone in pursuit of him. “But can I render you no aid?” he continued; “let me endeavour to staunch the blood which flows from your side.”
“It is too late now,” answered Gentianus; “you must not attempt to move me. I know not how many daggers entered my body, though the hands of those who desired my death failed to strike home. I would forgive them, as I would also the relentless foe by whom they were despatched on their bloody errand. Hasten back, my son, and bring my beloved daughter and child; I would thankfully see them once more ere I die.”
Jovinian rose to obey the commands of Gentianus. As he did so he heard footsteps approaching. Stopping a moment, he recognised Severus and the fossor. “Heaven has sent you assistance!” he said, again kneeling down by the side of his wounded friend. Ere long Severus joined him, and they together endeavoured to ascertain the injuries received by the old man.
“It is useless,” said Gentianus; “you cannot for long prolong my life, and I am willing to depart, and to be with Christ. Go, Jovinian, summon my beloved daughter and her child; I would speak to them again ere my spirit wings its flight to Him who has gone before to prepare a place for me.”
Severus, struck with horror at what he saw, had scarcely spoken, nor had he time to inquire by whom Gentianus had been wounded; but the words he heard assured him that his wife and daughter were still safe.
Jovinian would have gone alone, but the old fossor, who carried a lantern, at a sign from Severus, accompanied him, and he was thus able, much more speedily than otherwise would have been the case, to return to where he had left his female friends.
He endeavoured to prepare Eugenia and Julia for what had occurred, his heart at the same time beating with gratitude to Heaven for enabling them to escape the fearful danger to which they had been exposed. What had caused the assassins to retreat he could not tell; but he dreaded that they might return, and discover Severus. He resolved, therefore, to advise his friend to seek immediately some other place of concealment.
Gentianus was still conscious when they regained the chamber; indeed, he appeared to have somewhat recovered his strength. His daughter and grandchild threw themselves down beside him, and assisted Severus in supporting his head.
“Do not mourn over me, my children,” he said, taking Eugenia’s hand. “The days of my pilgrimage were naturally drawing to a close; God in His mercy has allowed them to be somewhat shortened, and has saved me from witnessing the result of the corruptions and errors which have crept in among our brethren at Rome in consequence of their departure from the clear teaching of the blessed Gospel. They having neglected the light which was in them, it is becoming darkness. I see it but too plainly, – the greed of riches and power possesses the hearts of many of those who should have been the humble overseers of Christ’s flock; and the presbyters and deacons but too willingly support them, for the sake of sharing the wealth they seek to acquire.
“Many rejoice that the emperor supports the Christians, and has bestowed worldly rank and dignity on the overseers and presbyters; but I warn you, my children, that he is a far greater foe to the true Church of Christ than those monarchs who have been deemed its greatest persecutors. Oh, let me charge you, my beloved ones, to cling closely to the simple Gospel! Be living stones of the temple of which Christ is the chief corner-stone! Let not Satan succeed in inducing you, with the offer of wealth, dignity, or honours, to depart from the truth. Endeavour by God’s grace to stem the tide, and never cease to protest against the errors and corruptions which have crept in among those who have a name to live, but are dead. Seek for guidance and direction with prayer and supplication, and, if you find that you cannot succeed, go to some other land, and preach the truth of the Gospel among its heathen inhabitants; ground them soundly in the faith, teaching them that there must be no compromise, that they must turn to the true God, and worship Him in spirit and truth through Christ, abandoning all their idolatrous practices, that they must live as Christians lived in the apostolic days, not looking to emperors, or rulers, or men great in the world’s eye for support, but to Christ the risen One alone.”
“With God’s grace I will follow your counsel,” said Severus, to whom Gentianus had stretched out his hand. Jovinian also took it, and with deep earnestness repeated the same words.
“Now, my children, I feel myself sinking. My beloved Eugenia, I leave you with confidence under the protection of Severus.” Then, taking Julia’s hand, he placed it in that of Jovinian. “May heaven give you life and strength, and may you, together, fight the good fight of faith, and prove a blessing to each other, as God, in His loving-kindness, has ordained that those united with His will shall ever be to one another.”
Jovinian pressed Julia’s hand. “With her, I promise, thankfully and joyfully, to obey your wishes,” he said.
Thus were Jovinian and Julia betrothed.
The old man continued to address those grouped around him, while Rufina and the fossor kept watch at the two entrances to the chamber.
The voice of Gentianus grew fainter and fainter. It ceased at last, and his children knew that his spirit had departed.
Chapter Fourteen.
Departure from Rome
Although Severus would have gladly remained, and have spread the Gospel among the benighted inhabitants of the capital, he reluctantly determined to follow the counsel of his father-in-law, and the advice now given him by his friends, and to retire to a region on which he had long fixed his thoughts. It was among the western spurs of the Alps, where exists a series of secluded vales inhabited by an industrious and primitive population, and where the great apostle to the Gentiles had, it was said, converted many to the truth. Here, therefore, he would receive a welcome from many brethren in the faith, and be the means of aiding and supporting them, and yet further extending among the surrounding people the blessings of Christianity.
Instead of travelling by land – a long and tedious journey, with many steep and rugged passes to traverse – he determined to embark at Ostia, from whence a pleasant voyage over the waters of the Mediterranean of three or four days, should the wind prove favourable, would enable him to reach the port at which he hoped to disembark.
Jovinian, on hearing his plans, entreated that he might be permitted to accompany him, although Amulius had offered the youth a home, should he have desired to remain in Rome and continue his studies. Severus gladly accepted Jovinian’s offer to bear him company.
“I would not willingly have parted from you, my son,” he said, “although I wished to leave you free to follow the bent of your own inclination. I will also gladly assist you in the studies which you may desire to pursue.”
Jovinian expressed his thanks – his only fear being that his uncle Gaius might attempt to detain him. He was aware that the pontiff, being his nearest relative, had some legal claim over him; and he knew too well also, even had such not been the case, that might often prevailed over right in Rome, as elsewhere. It was therefore settled that he should pass the time before the commencement of the journey with Severus and his family.
During their stay news reached the party in the catacombs of the events which had taken place at Rome: of the pontiffs’ last unsuccessful effort to promote the cause of paganism; of the escape of the vestal Coelia; and of the strange and almost incredible report that Coecus himself had declared his readiness to embrace Christianity.
“Then the pontiff has already commenced his project for destroying the true faith which I heard discussed,” observed Jovinian to Severus.
“Would that we could warn our Christian friends not to trust him! They might influence a few; but I fear that the multitude would rather confide in one who will ever be ready to pander to their tastes than in those who have their true interest at heart,” answered Severus. “We must use every effort, however; and Amulius and other faithful friends will, I trust, not be deceived.”
Then came further news from Byzantium. The emperor, although not baptised, had given undoubted proof of his desire to be considered a Christian. He had held conferences with Christian bishops and presbyters, and had issued decrees bestowing rank and dignity on numerous bishops. It was said that he intended dividing the empire into four ecclesiastical departments, after the model of the several civil divisions. Thus there were to be four prefectures, containing thirteen dioceses, which embraced one hundred and sixteen provinces. Over these ecclesiastical officers were to preside, bearing the titles of patriarchs, metropolitans or archbishops, and simple bishops, – dignified titles hitherto unknown in the Christian Church! One chief object of the emperor in thus bestowing rank and wealth on the Christian ministers was to obtain their assistance in governing the State by means of the religious sentiment or superstition of the people. The Christians had hitherto been the most docile and loyal of his subjects, as their faith inculcated implicit obedience to magistrates and all established authorities. His successors were to find that the semi-paganism which he had established under the name of Christianity had no such effect on the minds of their subjects, and that they were as ready to take up arms and resort to force whenever their passions were aroused as the heathens had been.
These, and other events of a similar character, confirmed Severus in his resolution to quit the country.
At length the day he was free to depart arrived. Amulius had made all the necessary preparation. Three “petorritas” – the ordinary carriages at that time in use – drawn by mules, arrived at a convenient spot near the entrance to the galleries. Two litters also came – their occupants remaining concealed within. Amulius and several friends, who had come to bid Severus and his family farewell, stepped out of the petorritas. Garments and several necessary articles had been purchased by Amulius for the use of the family, and these were already packed in the carriages. The faithful Rufina was to return to her master, but remained to the last with those whom she had so essentially served. Severus led forth his wife, and Jovinian followed with Julia.
They were about to enter one of the carriages, when Amulius remarked, “We have brought two other travellers who are desirous of accompanying you.” Ongoing to the litters he handed out two females habited in the ordinary dress of Roman ladies.
Jovinian at once recognised in one of them, although their heads were veiled, the vestal Marcia. As those around him were all of the faithful, there was no necessity for concealment.
The other lady was introduced by Marcia, – she was Coelia, whose life she had been the means of preserving. Marcia now explained that she and another vestal, who had also become a Christian, and was particularly attached to Coelia, had been placed by Fausta in charge of the prisoner, and that, having taken her place, she had allowed her to escape, aided by Christian friends, who had been watching outside the temple. They were under the guidance of Eros – he having, with the ever-active Rufina, been the means of perfecting the plan for her release. “The unhappy Vestalis Maxima,” she added, “when on her return to the temple she discovered that so many of those under her rule had become Christians that the sacred fire itself had been allowed to go out, and that even Coecus, as she supposed, had deserted the ancient faith, stabbed herself in despair.”
Just as Jovinian was stepping into the petorrita he found his hand grasped. Looking up, he saw Eros.
“I am to accompany you with the other runners on foot,” he said, “and I have a favour to ask: it is that you will entreat Severus to allow me to go with you, for Rome is no place for me, and I will gladly serve him faithfully without wages.”
Jovinian willingly promised to do what Eros desired, feeling sure that the request would not be refused.
The direct road to the port of Rome was about sixteen miles; but as a considerable circuit would have to be made, it would occupy a large portion of the day. The friends, therefore, who had come out of Rome, returned, and the travelling party set out. The first part of the journey was by by-paths, and being somewhat rough, the mules could only proceed at a slow rate. When once the high road was gained they were able to move much faster. It was well paved with slabs skilfully joined, which formed a smooth stony surface, enabling the wheels of the vehicles to run easily along. Here and there villas were seen, the inhabitants of which were still wrapt in slumber.
The travellers – although their equipages were simple – were received with respect at the inns where they stopped to rest their mules or partake of refreshment. They selected those whose hosts were Christians, and who welcomed them as brethren. Ostia was inhabited by a considerable number of Christians, engaged in commercial pursuits, and who had collected there from various parts of the world. The church of Ostia, said to have been formed in the days of the apostle Paul, was presided over by an aged bishop, with several presbyters and deacons. That it was of great antiquity was certain, as the apostle, while remaining at the port, when either embarking or landing on his journeys to and from Rome, would undoubtedly have gained many proselytes to the faith.
Jovinian passed his time happily in company with Julia, to whom he was attached with all the strength of his ardent nature. Notwithstanding his present happiness, he did not feel altogether secure while remaining in the neighbourhood of Rome. His uncle Gaius, who possessed, he believed, a legal claim over him, might discover his retreat, and prevent him from quitting the country. About Eros he had no fear, for having been once set free, the emancipated slave could not again legally be forced back into captivity, Eros himself, however, was not quite so well satisfied about the matter, and had, with the permission of the master of the Dolphin, gone on board, and obtained concealment in the hold. It might have been wise in Jovinian to have followed his example – at all events to have lived on board the vessel until his friends were ready to embark. Instead of that he went everywhere about the town with them, and attended public worship. They were to go on board early in the morning, and to sail as soon as the tide was high enough to enable the Dolphin to cross over the bar. Many of the principal Christians in Ostia accompanied the party down to the place of embarkation, where a boat was waiting to convey them on board the Dolphin, which lay with her sails loose out in the stream.
Severus, with his wife, and Marcia and Coelia, had already taken their seats; and Jovinian, who had walked down by the side of Julia, was on the point of assisting her on board, when he felt his arm seized, and a man in the dress of an emissary of the law exhibited an official document before his eyes. “You are, young sir, still a minor; your uncle Gaius claims you as his ward; resistance is vain, for I can summon those who would compel you to obey,” said the officer.
Julia clung to Jovinian’s other arm. “Oh, come, come!” she whispered: “he cannot detain you, and the boat will in an instant be away from the shore.”
Jovinian felt greatly inclined to follow this hint. As he was strong and active, by a strenuous effort he might shake himself free from the officer’s grasp. It was a great trial to him. Severus, whose attention had been called to what was occurring, stepped forward at once to his assistance; but the officer, fearing that a rescue was intended, summoned his attendants, dragged Jovinian from the strand, and delivered him to them. His numerous Christian friends could not, on principle, resist the law under which the officer professed to be acting.
In vain Julia entreated Jovinian to return to the boat; he was too securely held to make his escape. The mariners were anxious to sail, and not to lose the advantage of the wind and tide.
Severus had but a short time to speak a few words to his young friend. “The law must not be disobeyed,” he said; “but let me urge you to hold fast to the truth; we will pray for you and welcome you joyfully whenever you can quit Rome and join us.”
“I look forward to the day when I shall be free, and able to hasten to wherever you are settled,” answered Jovinian. “Your prayers will support me; I, too, will pray for myself, that I may be kept to the truth.”
The heathen officer could not be induced to allow Jovinian to exchange further farewells with his friends, being still afraid – seeing the number of persons around – that an attempt might be made to rescue his prisoner. They did their utmost to console him, after the boat pushed off; but it was with an aching heart that he saw the sails spread, and the Dolphin gliding out into the blue sea, which shone brightly in the rays of the rising sun, beyond the harbour.
Jovinian, with a heavy heart, walked with the officer to the inn, where the vehicle was waiting which was to convey him back to Rome. The blow he had received was so sudden that he could not for some time recover from it. He had been looking forward to days of happiness in the company of Julia and her parents, when his faith would have been strengthened, and he would have been able to profit by the guidance and instruction of Severus. He was now, once more, he supposed, to be exposed to the importunities of his uncle to turn idolater: and although he trusted that he should not be moved, it would be painful to be continually engaged in controversies with his relative. From the treatment he had before received, he was not much afraid that force would be used; at the same time he could not tell to what devices Gaius might resort to influence him. He fervently prayed that he might have strength to resist them.
On reaching the inn, the officer desired him to enter the petorrita which stood with the horses put to, before the door, and then took a seat by his side. The driver urging on his steeds, the carriage moved forward, the officials in attendance, with their garments girt about them, following rapidly on foot. The road, worn by the heavy waggons passing along it, was in several places full of ruts and holes, over which the vehicle went jolting on, the driver caring very little for the shaking his passengers were receiving. No stoppages were made, as the officer had been directed to return without delay to Rome. At length the Appian way – the high road between the capital and the south – was reached, when the carriage moved on more smoothly. They now passed between numerous sepulchres, – monuments erected on both sides the road, in which the ashes of many generations of the noble dead reposed. Jovinian recognised more than one in which his own heathen ancestors were interred. A feeling of gratitude to heaven rose to his heart at the thought that his own beloved mother had accepted the truth in her early youth, and that he had been born under the full light of the Gospel. Several large buildings were passed – that of the sanctuary of Mars, as it was called, beyond the city, within whose walls criminals flying from justice could obtain safety. The carriage then, passing under one of those vast structures of masonry erected to carry water into the city, entered Rome by the Porta Caperia. The vehicle could now proceed but slowly, as obstacles of all sorts occurred every moment. Sometimes a large waggon conveying building materials stopped the way. The streets were also blocked up by the booths of hucksters, butchers, vintners, pastry-cooks, and vendors of articles of all descriptions. Some of the passengers of the lower orders amused themselves by jeering at the young occupant of the carriage, when they recognised the officer of the law, and suggested that he was probably some Thespio who had been robbing his master, or filching the goods from the stalls. Egyptian jugglers were performing their wonderful tricks, allowing the most venomous snakes to wind themselves round their arms and necks, – the crowd which had collected around them showing no inclination to make way for the carriage. Here also could be seen boys selling sulphur matches, others carrying huge basins of boiled pease, a dish of which they dispensed to the poorest classes for the smallest coin.
As they entered the city Jovinian was much struck by observing masons dismantling two or three of the smaller heathen temples, which had been held in but slight consideration – mules and carts being engaged in carrying off the materials.
In their places new edifices were in course of erection, the beams and stones being wound aloft by cranes fixed on the summit of the portions already erected. It appeared to him that there was much more life and bustle in the city than he had ever before observed; but his silent custodian would afford him no information on the subject. “That is not my business,” he answered, when Jovinian asked a question; “your uncle Gaius will inform you all about the matter, young man.”
Jovinian had expected to drive up to the college of the pontiffs; but before reaching it the carriage turned off to the left, and stopped at a mansion under the Palatine hill. As it drew up before the ostium– the entrance to the house – two slaves came forth, whose countenances Jovinian did not recognise. They seemed, however, to expect him, and the officer, without hesitation, delivered him into their hands, following, as they conducted him through the atrium into an inner court, in a small room at the side of which he saw his uncle reclining. Several books were on the table before him. Gaius rose, and put out his hand to receive his nephew, his countenance exhibiting no sign of anger. The officer, having formally delivered his charge into the hands of Gaius, retired, and the uncle and nephew were left alone.
“And so you would have deserted me, your only relative, and followed the fortunes of strangers?” said Gaius, in a half-pathetic, half-comic tone, but which certainly exhibited not the slightest feeling of resentment.
“I escaped from you, my uncle, because you desired me to embrace a faith I abhor; and although I have now been brought back, I shall be still, I trust, withheld from following your counsels.”
“Ah! that is a matter which troubles me. I am thankful I did not succeed,” exclaimed Gaius, in the same tone as before; “I have seen that the system of idolatry is rotten, since the emperor and other good men have deserted it; and I wish to be instructed in the doctrines of the faith you hold.”
Jovinian was struck, as he well might be, with astonishment at hearing this, although he did not express his feelings. As he gazed steadily at the countenance of Gaius, he thought that he detected a twinkle in his eye which much belied his assertion. “I would thankfully be the means of bringing you to a knowledge of the truth,” he said at length, “but God alone can enlighten your mind.”
“Well, well, all I require you to do is to instruct me in the articles of your belief, and in the forms of your worship, and I may hope in a few weeks to make a very respectable appearance as a Christian; and if you prove an intelligent tutor I will allow you all the liberty you may desire. You can visit our relative, the presbyter Amulius, or any other friend you may desire to see, and report to them the progress I am making.”
“What, my uncle, are you really serious in your wish to become a Christian?” asked Jovinian, who had not forgotten the discussion he had overheard among the pontiffs, although he felt it would not be prudent to let his uncle know that he had been an eavesdropper on the occasion.
“Of course I am,” answered Gaius. “Surely the religion which the emperor adopts must be one we must all desire to follow.”
Jovinian sighed; he knew the truth too well to be deceived by his uncle’s remark, and he felt that, even should Gaius have some faint wish to become a Christian, he was very far as yet from the kingdom of heaven. He resolved, however, to do what he conceived to be his duty, and to instruct Gaius as far as he was able in the principles of Christianity. He judged it wise not to complain of being dragged away from his friends – supposing his uncle had a legal power to act as he had done – and he hoped when his services were no longer required that he should be allowed to rejoin Severus.
