Part 7

...upon them during successive ages by those who were banished to these catacombs. They carry down their mournful story to future times, and bring to imagination the forms, the feelings, and the deeds of those who were imprisoned here. As the forms of life are taken upon the plates of the camera, so is the great voice once forced out by suffering from the very soul of the martyr becomes stamped upon the wall. Humble witnesses of the truth, poor, despised, forsaken, in vain their calls for mercy went forth to the ears of men. They were stifled in the blood of the slaughtered and the smoke of the sacrifice. Yet where their own race only answered their cry of despair with fresh tortures, these rocky walls proved more merciful. They heard their sighs, they took them to their bosoms, and so their cries of sufferings lived there, treasured up and graven in the rock forever. The conversion of Marcellus to Christianity had been sudden, yet such quick transitions from error to truth were not infrequent. He had tried the highest forms of pagan superstition and heathen philosophy, and had found them wanting. And as soon as Christianity appeared before him, he beheld all that he desired. It possessed exactly what he needed to satisfy the cravings of his soul, and fill his empty heart with the fullness of peace. And if the transition was quick, it was nonetheless thorough. Having opened his eyes and seen the light of the sun of righteousness, he could not close them. The work of regeneration was divinely thorough, and he gladly welcomed his share in the sufferings of the persecuted. Conversions like these distinguished the first preaching of the gospel. Throughout the heathen world there were countless souls who felt as Marcellus did, and had gone through the same experiences. It needed only the preaching of the truth, accompanied by the power of the Holy Spirit to open their eyes and bring them to see the light. Combined with divine influence over human reason, we see here a cause for the rapid spread of Christianity. Living and moving and conversing with his new brethren, Marcellus soon began to enter into all their hopes and fears and joys. Their faith and trust communicated themselves to his heart, and all the glorious expectations which sustained them became the solace of his own soul. The blessed word of life became his constant study and delight, and all its teachings found in him an ardent disciple. Meetings for prayer and praise were frequent throughout the catacombs. Cut off from ordinary occupations of worldly business, they were thrown entirely upon other and higher pursuits. Deprived of the opportunity to make efforts for the support of the body, they were constrained to make their chief business the care of the soul. They gained what they sought. Earth, with its cares, its allurements, and its thousand attractions, lost its hold upon them. Heaven drew nearer. Their thoughts and their language were of the kingdom. They loved to talk of the joy that awaited those who continued faithful unto death. To converse upon those departed brethren, who to them were not lost, but gone before. To anticipate the moment when their own time should come. Above all, they looked every day for that great final summons, which should raise the dead, transform the living, and bring his blood-bought, blood-washed people about him in a meeting place in the air, and for the judgment seat of Christ, where he will bestow the rewards for faithful service. Thus Marcellus saw these dismal passages not left to the silent slumber of the dead, but filled with thousands of the living. Vain and pale and oppressed, they found even amid this darkness a better fate than that which might await them above. Busy life animated the haunts of the dead. The pathways rang to the sound of human voices. The light of truth and virtue banished from the upper air, burned anew with a pure radiance amid this subterranean gloom. The tender greetings of affection, of friendship, of kinship, and of love arose amid the moldering remains of the departed. Here the tear of grief mingled with the blood of the martyr, and the hand of affection wrapped his pale limbs in the shroud. Here in these grottos the heroic soul rose up superior to sorrow. Hope and faith smiled exultingly and pointed to the light of the bright and morning star, and a voice of praise breathed forth from the lips of the mourner. You have need of patience, that after ye have done the will of God you might receive the promise. The persecution raged with greater fury. In the few weeks that passed since Marcellus had lived there, great numbers had sought refuge in this retreat. Never before had so many congregated here. Generally the authorities had been content with the more conspicuous Christians, and the fugitives to the catacomb were consequently composed of this class. It was a severe persecution, indeed, which embraced all, and such indiscriminate rage had been shown only under a few emperors. But now there was no distinction of class or station. The humblest follower, as well as the highest teacher, was hurried away to death. Until this time the communication with the city was comparatively easy, for the poor Christians above ground never neglected those below or forgot their wants. Provisions and assistance of all kind were readily obtained. But now the very ones on whom the fugitives relied for help were themselves driven out to share their fate and become the partakers instead of the bestowers of charity. Still their situation was not desperate. There were many left in Rome who loved them and assisted them, although they were not Christians. In every great movement there will be an immense class composed of neutrals, who either from interest or indifference remain unmoved. These people will invariably join the strongest side, and where danger threatens will evade it by any concessions. Such was the condition of large numbers in Rome. They were friends and relatives among the Christians whom they loved, and for whom they felt sympathy. They were always ready to assist them, but had too much regard for their own safety to cast in their own lot with them. They attended the temples and assisted at the worship of the heathen gods as before, and were nominally adherents of the old superstition. Upon these now the Christians were forced to depend for the necessities of life. The expeditions to the city were now accompanied with great danger, and only the boldest dared to venture. Such, however, was the contempt of danger and death with which they were inspired, that there was never any scarcity of men for this perilous duty. To this task Marcellus offered himself, glad that he could in any way do good to his brethren. His fearlessness and acuteness, which had formerly raised him so high as a soldier, now made him conspicuous for success in this new pursuit. Numbers were destroyed every day. Their bodies were sought for and carried away by their Christians for purposes of burial. This was not very difficult to accomplish, since it relieved the authorities of the trouble of burning or burying the corpses. One day tidings came to the community beneath the Appian Way that two of their number had been captured and put to death. Marcellus and another Christian went forth to obtain their bodies. The boy, Polio, went with them to be useful in case of need. It was dusk when they entered the city gate and darkness came rapidly on. Soon, however, the moon arose and illuminated the scene. They threaded their way through the dark streets and at length came to the Colosseum, the place of martyrdom for so many of their companions. Its dark form towered up grandly before them, vast and gloomy and stern as the imperial power that had reared it. Crowds of keepers and guards and gladiators were within the iron gates, where the vaulted passageways were illuminated with a glare of torches. The keepers knew their errand and rudely ordered them to follow. They led them on till they came to the arena. Here lay a number of bodies, the last of those who had been slain that day. They were fearfully mangled, some indeed were scarcely distinguishable as human beings. After a long search, they found the two whom they sought. Their bodies were then placed in large sacks in which they prepared to carry them away. Marcellus looked in upon the scene. All around him rose the massive walls ascended by many terraces back to the outer circle. Its black form seemed to shut him in with a barrier which he could not pass. How long will it be, he thought, before I too take my place here and lay down my life for my Savior? When that time comes, shall I be true? Lord Jesus in that hour sustain me. The moon had not yet risen high enough to shine into the arena. Within it was dark and forbidding. The search had been made with torches obtained from the keepers. At this moment Marcellus heard a deep voice from some of the vaults behind them. Its tones rang out upon the night air with startling distinctness and were heard high above the rude clamors of the keepers. Now is come salvation and strength in the kingdom of our God and the power of His Christ. For the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night. And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they loved not their lives unto the death. Who is that? said Marcellus. Do not notice him, said his companion. It is Brother Sina. His griefs have made him mad. His only son was burned at the stake at the beginning of the persecution, and since then he has gone about the city denouncing woe. Hitherto they have let him alone, but now at last they have seized him. And is he a prisoner here? He is. Again the voice of Sina arose, fearfully menacing and terrible. How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost Thou not avenge our blood on them that dwell upon the earth? This then is the man that I heard in the capital. Yes, he has been all through the city, and even in the palace, uttering his crime. Let us go. They took their sacks and started for the gates. After a short delay they were allowed to pass. As they went out they heard the voice of Sina in the distance. Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen, and has become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul spirit, and the cage of every unclean and hateful bird. Come out of her, my people. None of them spoke until they reached a safe distance from the Colosseum. I felt afraid, said Marcellus, that we should be kept in there. Your fears were reasonable, said the other. Any sudden whim of the keeper might be our doom, but this we must be prepared for. In times like this we must be ready to meet death at any moment. What says our Lord? Be ye also ready. We must be able to say when the time comes, I am now ready to be offered. Yes, said Marcellus, our Lord has told us what we will have. In the world you shall have tribulation. And he said also, be of good cheer. I have overcome the world. Where I am, there you shall be also. Through him, said Marcellus, we can come off more than conquerors over death. The afflictions of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory that shall be revealed to us. Thus they solaced themselves with the promises of the blessed word of life, which in all ages and under all circumstances can give such heavenly consolation. Bearing their burdens, they finally reached their destination in safety, thankful that they had been preserved. A few days afterwards, Marcellus went up for provisions. This time he was alone. He went to the house of a man who was friendly to them and had been of much assistance. It was outside of the walls in the suburb nearest the Appian Way. After obtaining the requisite supply, he began to inquire after the news. The news is bad for you, said the man. One of the Praetorian officers was recently converted to Christianity and the emperor is in rage. He has appointed another to the office which he held and has sent him after the Christians. They are catching some every day. No man is too poor to be seized in these days. Ah, do you know the name of this Praetorian officer who is seeking the Christians? Lusallus. Lusallus, cried Marcellus. How strange. He is said to be a man of great skill and energy. Yes, I have heard of him. This is indeed bad news for the Christians. The conversion of the other Praetorian officer has greatly enraged the emperor. A price is now set on his head. If you chance to see him or be in his way, friend, you'd better let him know. They say he is in the catacombs. He must be there. There is no other place of safety. These are indeed terrible times. You have need to be cautious. They cannot kill me more than once, said Marcellus. Ah, you Christians have wonderful fortitude. I admire your bravery. Yet I think you might conform outwardly to the emperor's decree. Why should you rush so madly upon death? Our Redeemer died for us. We are ready to die for Him. And since He died for His people, we also are willing to imitate Him and lay down our lives for our brethren. You are wonderful people, said the man raising his hands. Marcellus now bade him farewell and departed with his load. The news, which he had just heard, filled his mind. So Lusallus has taken my place, thought he. I wonder if he has turned against me. Does he now think of me as his friend, Marcellus, or as only as a Christian? I may soon find out. It would be strange indeed if I should fall into his hands, and yet if I am captured, it will probably be by him. Yet it is his duty as a soldier, and why should I complain? If he is appointed to that office, he can do nothing else but obey. As a soldier, he can only treat me as an enemy of this state. He may pity or love me in his heart, yet he must not shrink from his duty. If a price is on my head, they will redouble their efforts for me. My time, I believe, is at hand. Let me prepare to meet it. With such thoughts as these, he walked down the Appian Way. He was wrapped up in his own meditations and did not see a crowd of people that had gathered at a corner of a street until he was among them. Then he suddenly found himself stopped. Ho, friend, said a rude voice. Not so fast. Who are you and where are you going? Away, said Marcellus, in a tone of command, natural to one who had ruled over men, and he motioned the man aside. The crowd was awestruck by his authoritative voice and imperious manner, but its spokesman showed more courage. Tell us who you are or you shall not pass. Fellow, cried Marcellus, stand aside. Do you not know me? I am a Praetorian. At that dreaded name, the crowd quickly opened and Marcellus passed through it. But scarcely had he moved five paces away than a voice exclaimed, Seize him! It is the Christian Marcellus! A shout arose from the crowd. Marcellus need no further warning. Dropping his load, he started off down a side street toward the Tiber. The whole crowd pursued. It was a race for life and death. But Marcellus had been trained to every athletic sport and increased the distance between himself and his pursuers. At last he reached the Tiber and leaping in, he swam to the opposite side. The pursuers reached the river's brink but followed no farther. Chapter 10 The Arrest The trial of your faith works patience. Honorius was seated in the chapel with one or two others, among whom was the Lady Cecilia. The feeble rays of a single lamp but faintly illuminated the scene. They were silent and sad. A deeper melancholy than usual rested upon them. Around them was the sound of footsteps and of voices and a confused murmur of life. Suddenly a quick step was heard and Marcellus entered. The occupants of the chapel sprang up with cries of joy. Where is Polio? cried Cecilia eagerly. I have not seen him, said Marcellus. Not seen him? said Cecilia and she fell back upon her seat. Why, is he beyond the time? He ought to have returned six hours ago and I am sick with anxiety. Oh, there is no danger, said Marcellus soothingly. He can take care of himself. He tried to pass it off with a careless tone but his looks belied his words. No danger, said Cecilia. Alas, we know too well what new dangers there are. Never has it been so dangerous as now. What has delayed you, Marcellus? We'd begun to give you up. I was stopped near the Via Alba, said Marcellus. I dropped my load and ran to the river. The crowd followed but I jumped into the river and swam across. There I took a circling route among the streets on the opposite side after which I came across again and reached this place in safety. You had a narrow escape. A price is on your head. Have you heard it? Yes, and much more. We've heard of the redoubled efforts which they are making to crush us. All through the day tidings of sorrow have been reaching us. We must rely more than ever on Him who alone can save us. We can baffle them still, said Marcellus hopefully. They watch our principal entrances, said Honorius. Then we can make new ones. The openings are numberless. They have offered rewards for all the prominent brethren. What then? We will guard those brethren more carefully than ever. Our means of living are gradually lessening. But there are as many bold and faithful hearts as ever who is afraid to risk his life now. They will never cease to be a supply of food so long as we live in the catacombs. If we escape pursuit, we bring help to our brethren. If we die, we receive the crown of martyrdom. You are right, Marcellus. Your faith puts my fear to shame. How can those who live in the catacombs be afraid of death? It is but a momentary gloom and it will pass. But this day we have heard much to distress our hearts and fill our spirits with dismay. Alas, continued Honorius in a mournful voice, how are the people scattered and the assemblies left desolate? But a few months ago, and there were fifty Christian assemblies within this city, where the light of truth shone, and the sound of prayer and praise ascended to the most high. Now they are overthrown, the people dispersed and driven out of the sight of men. He paused, overcome by emotion, and then in a low and plaintive voice he repeated the mournful words of the 80th Psalm. How long wilt thou be angry against the prayers of thy people? Thou feedest them with the bread of tears, and givest them tears to drink in great measure. Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbors, and our enemies laugh among themselves. Turn us again, O God of hosts, and cause Thy face to shine, and we shall be saved. Thou hast brought a vine out of Egypt, Thou hast cast out the heathen and planted it. Thou preparest room before it, and it is cause of it to take deep root, and it filled the land. The hills were covered with the shadow of it, and the boughs thereof were full.