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 THE ROMAN MARTYR, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 BURNS AND GATES, 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 GRANVILLE MANSIONS, 
 
 ORCHARD STREET, W. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 CATHOLIC PUBLICATION 
 
 SOCIETY CO., 
 
 BARCLAY STREET.
 
 PEEFACE 
 
 FLORA, the Eoman Martyr, is a book without any 
 literary pretensions. It was written during a 
 visit to the Eternal City many years ago, with a view 
 of recording, in their first freshness, the impressions of 
 devotion gathered at many a Eoman shrine, and several 
 pages were hastily penned, amidst the bustle of sight- 
 seeing, when the connecting thread of the plot often 
 became tangled, sometimes broken. Indulgence must 
 be asked for on account of certain anachronisms, some 
 slight liberties having been taken with one or two 
 dates; also, on account of the length of the descrip- 
 tions, when the enthusiasm called up by the classical 
 reminiscences of the Italian land caused the writer to 
 dwell too long on some favourite scene. 
 
 It is difficult to correct a work after the lapse of 
 years. Rugged and misshapen though a tree may be, 
 it is best to leave it to bear what fruit it can. 
 
 Flora, the heroine, is an ideal character, this much 
 alone being true, that a Saint of that name suffered 
 martyrdom under the Emperor Gallienus, and is buried 
 in the Church of St. Martina, but her connection with 
 St. Lawrence is quite imaginary. With the exception
 
 vi Preface. 
 
 of Claudius, Siona, and Florentius, most of the characters 
 are historical. 
 
 Perhaps it will be asked why w^e have departed from 
 the usual statement that St. Lawrence was burned alive 
 on a gjridiron. On a close examination of the iron bars 
 preserved in the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, they 
 seemed to us to have formed part of one of those low 
 iron beds found in Etruscan tombs ; and as the expres- 
 sion, Udiis ferreus, occurs in the " Acts of the Martyrs," 
 denoting an instrument of torture used on some occa- 
 sions, we deem such a bed to have been identical with 
 the craticida. 
 
 If we bring these long-forgotten pages before the 
 public, it is in the hope that they may benefit the 
 victims of a persecution, going on in our own days, 
 more lingering than that which the early Christians 
 endured, but scarcely less cruel, considering tliat we live 
 in a more civilised age. 
 
 We allude to the nuns of Italy, ruthlessly torn from 
 their convent homes, sometimes in the dead of the 
 night, and left without any shelter except what pious 
 friends offer them. The aged and infirm have been 
 taken from their beds, and carried through the streets 
 by their sorrowing sisters. 
 
 It is to relieve such misery that the proceeds of this 
 little work are destined. 
 
 Qth January, 1886.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 Villa of Florentius at Aricia. His slave Claudius, a Christian. 
 Siona, tlie lady of the house. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 Arrival of Origen at Eome. He meets St. Cecilia with her 
 husband Valerian. Goes to see Pope Urban in the 
 Catacombs. 
 
 Chapter III. 
 Household of St. Cecilia. Her young Christian friends, Martina, 
 Agatha. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 Entertainment given by Lucullus. Sudden illness of Flora, 
 infant child of Florentius. Siona, the mother, fearing it 
 will die, consents to its being baptised. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 Martyrdom of Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus, followed by 
 that of Cecilia. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 Flora's early childhood. Arrival of a young cousin, Laurentius, 
 from Iberia. 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 Eoman market place. Baths. Conversation between Florentius 
 and Hippolytus, a suitor of Martina's.
 
 viii Index. 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 Hippolytus renews his suit to Martina. Slie confides to him the 
 secret of her religion. He withdraws. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 Accession of the Emperor Gordianus, the younger. Choosing of 
 new Vestals. Volumnia, daughter of Nemesion, selected. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 Manumission of Claudius. Projected journey to Liguria. 
 
 Chapter XL 
 Martina's martyrdom. Conversion of Hippolytus. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 NicEea in Liguria. Flora makes acquaintance with a young 
 Christian girl, Reparata, who becomes a friend, together 
 with Pontius, her uncle. 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 Florentius is made acquainted with the religion of his wife and 
 children. 
 
 Chapter XIV. 
 Friendship between Florentius and Pontius. 
 
 Chapter XV. 
 Nemesion's home. His second daughter, the blind Lucilla. 
 Icilius, formerly suitor for Volumnia's hand, attempts the 
 life of Gordianus — takes refuge in the temple of Vesta. 
 Young Vestal suspected. 
 
 Chapter XVI. 
 Icilius condemned. Flora w^orks a change in him for the better. 
 
 Chapter XVII. 
 A walk on the Via Appia. Hippolytus the hermit. 
 
 Chapter XVIII. 
 Gordianus and his minister Misitheus. They visit Aricia. 
 
 Chapter XIX. 
 Games in honour of Latial Jove, Death of Misitheus.
 
 AUTHOR'S FINAL CORRECTIONS. 
 
 P. 18, 1. 11 from the top, for 'precious the signs,' read 'precocious'. 
 
 P. 21, last line, for 'Teller's,' read 'Feller's'. 
 
 P. 22, 1. 12 from the bottom, for 'Slemou,' read ' Alcmon '. 
 
 P. 187, 1. 6 from the top, * after the ^ot^ foundation, instead of in 1. 2 
 
 from top. 
 P. 194, footnote, for 'statres,' read, 'res stat'. 
 P. 226, 1. 7 from the top, for 'had loved,' read 'have'. 
 P. 254, 1. 10 from the top, for 'dulces,' read ' dulcis '.
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 IT was on a summer evening of the year 235 of the 
 Christian era. The shades of twilight were 
 already gathering on the horizon, while the last rays 
 of the setting sun still bathed, as in a sea of glory, the 
 scarce visible outlines of distant Eome. 
 
 On the Via Appia, at about two miles from Aricia, 
 a slave, whose dress denoted him as occupying the 
 place of Villicus, or superintendent of his master's 
 farms, issued from the gate of a large, handsomely- 
 built country-house, and, proceeding on his way, stopped 
 on the brow of the hill which commanded a view of the 
 Vallis Aurea. The sun, which had been hidden from 
 his view, as he ascended by a shady path, now burst 
 full upon him, bright in its dying glory ; he veiled his 
 brow with his hand. . . . As he stood there alone, 
 the evening breeze fanned his bronzed cheek, recalling 
 to him, by its soothing influence, early memories, the 
 love that yet breathed and seemed wafted to him from 
 far-off lands. His countenance evinced strong emotion, 
 and in accents such as he had not used for years, his 
 heart's yearnings found utterance in his native tongue. 
 
 " My country ! my country ! methinks I see thee, 
 looming in the distance, standing out among the golden 
 
 1
 
 2 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 clouds which surround this land of slavery. Far more 
 beautiful art thou in thy rugged scenery and native love- 
 liness. Happy those who pass their lives among thy 
 white cliffs, against which the ocean waves beat daily, 
 but in vain. Never more shall it be given me to gird 
 the sword which my forefathers so nobly wielded. 
 Other slaves would be content with my lot, for I have 
 much to make me happy. But, alas! golden fetters 
 press as painfully as red-hot iron on one who feels 
 flowing in his veins the noble blood of Car-a-doc." 
 
 The speaker was about forty years of age. His noble 
 bearing and proud look sat strangely on a slave ; but 
 Claudius was a Briton by birth, descended from one of 
 the ancient chiefs of his own country ; his noble pedigree 
 was stamped on his handsome features ; his martial gait 
 and elastic step bespoke the freeman, treading un- 
 wilUngly on foreign soil. He had been taken prisoner 
 of war, and condemned, as such, to serve as a slave. 
 Fortune, however, had smiled on his chains ; the family 
 he was bound to treated their servants with a kindness 
 unusual among Eomans; indeed the old name of 
 familiars^ which indicated the position of slaves as 
 members of the family, had its full meaning in this 
 household, especially in the case of Claudius, whose 
 superior merits had so much attracted the notice of his 
 masters that he had risen to the highest post of confi- 
 dence, and was named Villicus to their estates. 
 
 No small stir had been going on in the country house 
 for some days. Eich furniture and abundant provisions 
 sent out from Eome had passed on the road. Painters
 
 Flora : the Roman Ma^^tyr. 3 
 
 and vendors of marble had come to and fro, employed 
 in repairing the somewhat neglected tridinmm of the 
 villa; new mosaics had been laid in the aula ; in the 
 private oratory of the Penates, a small altar had been 
 raised to Lucina. All this had entailed much labour on 
 Claudius. Besides the gathering in of the harvest, he 
 had superintended many improvements in the garden ; 
 new avenues had been drawn cut under his direc- 
 tions, and the trees bordering them cut into curious 
 shapes, the fish pond had been replenished, a new wall 
 raised round the little island exclusively devoted to the 
 fattening of snails, and the bees which till now had 
 thrived near the uninhabited villa had been removed 
 to a distant and secluded part of the grounds. The 
 functions of Claudius were not confined to out-door 
 work, for he had no wife to take the domestic depart- 
 ment into her hands ; this was unusual in a Villicus, as 
 the Eoman laws had regulated that every slave holding 
 an office of trust ought to be a married man. Once 
 only his master Florentius had reminded Claudius of 
 this obligation, but the latter had thrown himself at his 
 feet, imploring a respite. Florentius was rather sur- 
 prised, but as he prided himself on being a good- 
 humoured philosopher, he dismissed the slave with a 
 joke and thought no more of the matter, till one day 
 his wife presented him with a petition on the part of 
 Claudius which she urged with gentle seriousness, — 
 it was that his masters should not oblige him to 
 marry. 
 
 " The man is a barbarian, so he knows no better ; but
 
 4 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 what makes you plead for him, Siona?" asked her 
 husband. 
 
 " I am the daughter of a conquered people, Florentius, 
 and the prayer of the oppressed can never reach my ear 
 in vain." 
 
 " You are a Eoman matron, Siona, since my love has 
 made you one, and the gods be praised that knitted our 
 destinies together ! Let it be with Claudius as he wills 
 if it so please you." 
 
 From that day Claudius was looked upon as a privi- 
 leged slave, and he showed his gratitude by renewed 
 activity at his work, seeking on all occasions to give 
 pleasure to his masters. A new feeling sprang up be- 
 tween them, singularly different from what was usually 
 manifested in Eoman households; a deep, grateful 
 affection on the part of the slave, a regard, amounting 
 almost to respect, on that of his owners. In the eyes of 
 his mistress, the constancy with which he clung to the 
 memory of his British home seemed something sacred, 
 and she warmly espoused his cause. 
 
 The evening on which our tale opens, the villa of 
 Florentius near Aricia had been prepared for the recep- 
 tion of the lady of the house. Siona was about to 
 become a mother for the first time, and all that Eoman 
 luxury could afford had been collected to surround her 
 with every comfort during her stay in the country. 
 This very evening was appointed for her arrival, and 
 Claudius awaited her on the road. It was a solemn 
 hour, when a golden halo overspread the face of nature, 
 and the evening clouds gathered from the heavens
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 5 
 
 a hue of such strange and mysterious beauty as is 
 seen on no earthly horizon but that which encircles the 
 favoured land! Eome lay far away in the distance, 
 reigning in silent majesty from the summit of her seven 
 hills over almost all the then known world. Ever 
 great, though degenerate ! more powerful, but less 
 triumphant, than when the virtues and valour of her 
 citizens formed the pride of her republican days. How 
 they had loved her then, those sons of her might ! even 
 to the laying down of their lives, and washing in their 
 blood the least stain cast by the stranger on the fame 
 of their beloved Eome ! Even now, though the spirit of 
 Cincinnatus and Eei^ulus lived no more in the Eoman 
 breast, the love of the Alma Mater yet survived ; pure 
 flame, which, like the sacred fire preserved for ages, and 
 burning silently on a hidden altar, guards the old 
 palladium to which is attached the fate of Eome. Is 
 it to be wondered at that when they gazed on that 
 city, so extensive in its power, so eternal in its founda- 
 tions, her sons proudly asserted that the orb of day 
 would sooner be extinguished, than Eome close her 
 career of glory ? 
 
 To all those who have known toil or sorrow, evening 
 is the hour of rest; in the uncertain, misty twihght 
 distant visions come with their brightest illusions to 
 the heart that cannot forget. Like the golden clouds, 
 coloured with an ethereal light, they bear to the soul a 
 dream of life beyond, to be coldly dispelled with the 
 coming darkness, yet treasured up, even though a thing 
 of dreams !
 
 6 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 There was a wood sacred to Diana bordering the 
 road. Claudius, after half-an-hour's fruitless expecta- 
 tion, withdrew to its leafy cover ; there he knelt down, 
 and taking from his belt a small pouch formed of the 
 skin of an animal slain in the chase, he drew from it a 
 handful of earth : a strange grim smile passed over his 
 features, revealing a fierce spirit which lay dormant 
 within him. "Soil of my fatherland," he exclaimed, 
 " thou art pleasant to the touch ! thou hast lain in my 
 breast since the day they tore me from Britain. I 
 gathered this dust with clenched hands, vowing I should 
 tread it one day again, but as a freeman. Small hand- 
 ful of earth ! thou art all of Britain I can yet call my 
 own, yet dearer to me than all the splendour and magni- 
 ficence of this land of slavery. Ah, why have this 
 people brought me here, envying me the humble cottage 
 of my British home ! " 
 
 He put the little pouch to his nostrils and his mouth, 
 breathing hard over it, as if to inhale the atmosphere of 
 liberty with whjch it was impregnated ; he held it some 
 seconds to his eyes too, and when he withdrew it, their 
 expression was strangely softened ; he laid it on the 
 ground. From the breast of his tunic, he drew out a 
 folded linen cloth, which he would require at the Chris- 
 tian assembly he was to attend that evening, where the 
 Holy Eucharist was distributed to each of the faithful, 
 to be carried away by them to their own houses. The 
 memory of the sacred rites returned to the slave, and he 
 examined the dispositions of his heart. He struck his 
 breast with remorse : " Pardon me, oh God, that I know
 
 Flora : tJie Roman Martyr. 7 
 
 Thee as yet so little, and have not yet learned to for- 
 give ! " He flung himself on the ground, his hand still 
 clasping the linen of the Holy Eucharist, his forehead 
 bowed over the handful of natal soil ; the old love and 
 
 the new faith were now mingled The struggle 
 
 was over in that poor heart, there was a prayer placed 
 on his lips by the Crucified, the slave at that moment 
 was a hero, and the descendant of Caractacus triumphed, 
 even in chains ! 
 
 When he arose, the twilight had disappeared, dark- 
 ness had closed around, and the moon had risen ; there 
 was a sound of singing and music borne onward by the 
 breeze. He went out upon the road : there were many 
 lights, as of torches seen at a distance ; he hastened to 
 his master's villa, summoned his fellow slaves to meet 
 and welcome their mistress, and ranging them in order, 
 gave the signal to set out, heading the ranks himself 
 As they came near to the new comers, these stopped, 
 and a voice from the litter called for Claudius. He 
 approached, and the curtains being open for the admis- 
 sion of the cool evening air, he knelt by his mistress, 
 Siona, and kissed the border of her pallet. 
 
 " I am very glad to come to Aricia, Claudius, and I 
 hope the gods will send us good health and fine weather; 
 we must propitiate them. These slaves bring offerings 
 to the lararium ; go on before me with them to the 
 house." 
 
 The slave made no answer, but, falling back a few 
 paces, appeared not to have understood her orders. 
 They soon arrived at the villa, where the female slaves
 
 8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 were assembled in tlie atrium to welcome their mistress; 
 she led the way to the lararmm set apart for the wor- 
 ship of the household gods, and, before crossing the 
 threshold, turned back to call Claudius. The slave was 
 holding a torch to light her steps, but did not follow ; 
 he looked at her with an expression sorrowful yet firm ; 
 he waited till all had passed, then put out his torch and 
 disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The next morning early, Siona visited the grounds 
 where she knew many improvements had been made to 
 please her on her arrival; she loved solitude at all 
 times, and on this day had signified her wish to be 
 alone. Bending her steps towards the beehives, she 
 passed through the flower-plots where a huge basket 
 lying on the ground attracted her attention ; it offered a 
 tasteful assortment of variegated flowers disposed as a 
 pyramid. There was a slave weeding the beds ; at the 
 sound of her footsteps, he looked up, hastened to take in 
 his arms the basket he had been arranging, and, kneel- 
 ing before his mistress, presented it to her without 
 speaking. 
 
 " Is this an offering for Lucina ? " she asked. 
 
 There was an unpleasant smile on her face, and a 
 slight tone of irony in her voice, which the slave under- 
 stood ; he looked up at her, hesitated, then said, holding 
 back his gift : 
 
 " For you alone, lady." 
 
 " i^ay, I must offer my own flowers to the goddess, 
 if I choose."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 9 
 
 Claudius looked round to see whether any one was 
 within hearing, then whispered very low : 
 
 " Do you believe in her power, my mistress ? " 
 
 A slight tremor of surprise mingled with fear passed 
 over the countenance of Siona, but she recovered rapidly 
 her presence of mind, and, drawing herself up to her full 
 height, she rebuked her slave for the first time in angry 
 terms. 
 
 Claudius had presented his offering kneeling to his 
 mistress ; he retained that posture, but his gaze was up- 
 turned, and his mind rapt in an Invisible Presence ; he 
 knelt no longer to her. He knew that she was born of 
 Jewish parents, and the traditional features of her 
 nation had never struck him so forcibly as at this 
 moment, when they were strongly marked by excite- 
 ment. There was a peculiarity of expression in her 
 eyes which none could read, even those who knew her 
 best ; it w^as not sorrow but rather a restless unhappy 
 look as of one seeking for ever after a good that is lost. 
 Oftentimes her gaze w^as averted, as if overpowered by 
 a Brightness visible only to herself, and that gaze, when 
 one could meet it, contained an unutterable sweetness 
 and an unearthly radiance. It seemed as though the 
 strange expression of those eyes came from a Bright 
 Vision whose impression had remained, long after it 
 had faded away. As Claudius looked at her long and 
 attentively, these thoughts came to him not for the first 
 time; his mind was conferring with itself, and he 
 seemed to have formed a resolution. He rose suddenly, 
 folded his arms, and said in a calm firm voice :
 
 lO Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " You rebuke me, lady, and yet you know what your 
 fathers taught you long ago : ' Thou shalt adore but one 
 God '." 
 
 All her passion left her in a moment ; pale and 
 trembling she sank back on a garden seat, and covered 
 her face with her hands : " Hush, hush, Claudius ; 
 how do you know those awful words which have never 
 visited my ears since childhood ? My father and all his 
 household left Jehovah to adore Eoman gods long ago." 
 
 " And do you beheve in their power, you virtuous and 
 pure-minded beyond many of your sex ? can you wor- 
 ship divinities whose history is but a tissue of crimes ? 
 If you have remained uncontaminated, it is that a ray of 
 light has clung to you, even through the darkness of 
 Paganism ; is it not so ? " 
 
 " x\nd you, Claudius, who speak so boldly, of what 
 creed are you .? " 
 
 " My mistress must have guessed that from my dis- 
 obedience of last night. My life and death are in her 
 hands." 
 
 "Truly, it never struck me until you refused to 
 sacrifice that you could belong to the abhorred sect of 
 the Christians." 
 
 " It is so, I am a Christian." 
 
 A shudder passed over the young woman, and, glanc- 
 ing at the flowers at her feet, she selected a sprig of 
 sage and with it touched her forehead, to avert the evil 
 omen according to Eoman superstition. 
 
 " Claudius," she said, " it terrifies me to think thou 
 hast lived with us so long and drawn down upon our
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 1 1 
 
 household perhaps the vengeance of the gods. Fly ! I 
 will help thee, and thy secret shall remain ever sacred 
 with me. Fly ! my husband shall not know thy place 
 of refuge, and I will deceive him rather than bring upon 
 his threshold the misfortunes which thy polluted pre- 
 sence may draw down upon it. Go, Claudius, I implore 
 thee, if not for me, yet for my child, on whose birth 
 thou hast cast an evil glance, by not sacrificing to 
 Lucina. Thou dost not answer me : wilt thou not 
 take the proffered opportunity ? If thou art a father 
 thyself, ah, have compassion on a mother's fears. In 
 the name of thy own dear ones, leave me for the salva- 
 tion of me and mine." 
 
 The slave's breast heaved violently ; he breathed 
 convulsively ; his hands were clenched each on the 
 other arm so firmly that the flesh grew livid under their 
 pressure ; still he did not speak, but the swollen veins 
 on his forehead told of an internal struggle like that he 
 had gone through in the forest. Life and liberty to be 
 purchased by swerving from duty ; on the other hand, 
 slavery, years of toil, ending perhaps in a maityr's fate. 
 But to strengthen him through this, there was peace of 
 conscience, the approval of the All-seeing One ; there 
 was above all, and before him at this very moment, a 
 soul to save : the brave heart had soon made its choice ! 
 
 " Lady, you have spoken to me as to a slave ; now 
 hear me answer as a Christian. You would induce me 
 to be unfaithful to my earthly master ; I serve a 
 Heavenly One Who has told me He will allow no 
 wrong. You would, from a superstitious dread, forget
 
 12 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 the duty you owe to your lord and liou.sehold, for I am 
 my master's property, and you cannot dispose of me 
 without his leave. Forgive me, Siona, for the rebuke. 
 It comes not from me but from Him Whom your fathers 
 worshipped ; from Him Who spoke on Horeb, Whose 
 words never change, because He is eternal ; from Him 
 Who abhorreth a lie. Who has commanded unto each 
 to be faithful to his calling. He inspires me to be 
 faithful to my masters, because it is better to suffer 
 evil than to do it." 
 
 Siona looked at Claudius as one awe-struck. The 
 solemn tones, the inspired look with which her slave 
 pronounced the name of God, all seemed to her as if a 
 dream of her early days had arisen to her view. 
 
 Encouraged by her silence, he continued : '•' I speak 
 to you of a Law-Giver Whose name you cannot have 
 forgotten. Have His divine commandments been torn 
 from your memory ? Do you remember His promises ? 
 Do you remember the Messiah spoken of to our first 
 fathers. Who is still the expected One of the children 
 of your land? So vivid is the anticipation of that 
 promise among you, that at one of the feasts of your 
 people the youngest maiden of the household with- 
 draws to await in solitude and silence the springing 
 forth of the root of Jesse. That promise has been 
 fulfilled ! He came, and His people knew Him not ; 
 day by day He sat teaching in the temple, and they did 
 not heed Him. His hour came ! the hour appointed by 
 the Father, revealed ages before by the prophets, and 
 He gave up His life to redeem His own ; He died by
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 13 
 
 the hands of His peoj)le ! Siona, shall I tell you more ? 
 or do you prefer reading a history traced in the language 
 of your own people and handed down to us who believe ? 
 It is a sacred trust confided in me ; may I lay it in your 
 hands, and will you guard it even as you have promised 
 to preserve secret the religion of your slave ? " 
 
 His mistress stretched out her hand mechanically, 
 as if she were lost in thought : " This is like a dream of 
 my childhood," she said; and with an impulse which 
 seemed to follow out the vague feeling of reminiscence, 
 she pressed the sacred volume to her heart, her forehead 
 and her lips. " This was the custom of my father when 
 he called us all to his knee, and told us of Jehovah's 
 written Word." 
 
 She opened the little volume, and the characters of a 
 language she had ever looked upon as sacred moved her 
 strangely. She bowed her head, and during some 
 minutes was absorbed in its perusal. Presently she 
 looked up, her eyes suffused with tears ; her voice 
 trembled and was hushed like that of a child. 
 
 " Claudius," she said, " my mother used to tell me 
 the story of one of my ancestors who had lived in the 
 time of that strange One Who was called Jesus, wdio 
 had spoken with Him, and lo ! his story is here." 
 
 The slave looked at the page her finger rested on ; 
 it recorded the interview of the Saviour with that 
 young man who, having observed all the Command- 
 ments from his youth, was called upon by the Master 
 to forsake all things and follow Him, but lu ivent aiuay 
 sorrowful, for he had great possessions.
 
 14 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 Claudius glanced at the page, then at her, then at 
 the Holy Writ again. 
 
 " Great God ! " he exclaimed, " you have then heard 
 this passage before ? " 
 
 " I can count how many generations separate me 
 from this man ; my father spoke of him often to us." 
 
 " Oh then, lady, wonder not if a Guardian Spirit 
 moved me to speak to you this day. The Word that 
 went forth to your forefather, that lay hidden for his 
 children, has spoken to you now. I no longer marvel 
 that you have remained pure in the midst of Eoman 
 paganism, for the Most High has overshadowed you. 
 Nay more ! there is a seal set on those who have 
 conversed with the God Who spoke on Horeb. I 
 have often seen on your features the light of another 
 world, the reflection of a superior Brightness which 
 had passed over you, like the glory of God on the 
 face of Moses. You are marked out for a great 
 destiny, Siona ; the Word of the Lord is never spoken 
 in vain, and the call of your ancestor must be fulfilled ! 
 it may be through you, it may be in your unconscious- 
 child." 
 
 Siona continued listening with clasped hands, and 
 it was some time before she spoke. 
 
 " Enough, Claudius," she said, " our conversation has 
 been long, and must remain a secret ; thou hast moved 
 me much, and if thou hast not spoken truth, thou hast 
 done me a grievous wrong, for I can no longer be calm 
 and tranquil as before. Do not speak to me again, for 
 I fear thy influence ; agitate me no more with these
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 15 
 
 memories of my people and my faith, for my duty calls 
 me to be faithful to my husband's gods. Urge me no 
 more, lest their vengeance fall on my innocent child." 
 
 " Yet one word, my mistress. I speak not from 
 myself. He who reigns above," and he raised his 
 hand on high, and his voice was solemn as before, 
 " your Master and mine has spoken to you this day. If 
 you will not be His now. He will call you again, 
 through sorrow and through fear. Beware, for the 
 doom of expiation hangs over your people, and our 
 God is a jealous God, Who punishes the sins of fathers 
 on their children. I now return to my daily toil, and 
 you to the joys of your domestic hearth, but I feel we 
 have not met in vain. Farewell ! I ask you only to 
 remember me in the hour of trial, when you will 
 require more comfort than philosophy or Eoman idols 
 can give. I may be able to help you then, and I ask 
 of you to call upon me. I ask it in the name of your 
 forefathers, in the name of that precious existence 
 confided to your care, for which you will have an 
 account to render to your God and mine." 
 
 He made a profound inclination to his mistress and 
 disappeared. She remained as if transfixed to the spot, 
 and was only roused from her reflections some time 
 after by hearing the voice of Claudius giving orders to 
 his topiarii, the slaves appointed to prune trees. He 
 was climbing up a ladder, stretching out cords, and as 
 attentive to his work as if it were his prominent object 
 in life. The young wife retired with slow steps into 
 the interior |of the house.
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 IT was early in the morning, so early that the shades 
 of night still struggled with the approaching day ; 
 the moon dispersed her silver rays over the Latian Cam- 
 pagna, eclipsing the faint brightness scarce visible in 
 the East, shining on each lordly Roman edicuhcm like a 
 sepulchral lamp, while the sculptured stone faces looked 
 up, unearthly and strange. On, on sped the moon, 
 tipping as if in mockery the minium-coloured eulogium 
 engraved over the lamented dead, too often, then as now, 
 a falsehood on a grave ; on to the huge paving-stones 
 where the letters V.A. (Via Appia) were discernible in 
 the clear rays, where the neglected blade of grass grew 
 unheeded in crevices of the Regina Viarum ; then the 
 pale moonbeams passed to the fields beyond, to the lonely 
 shepherd's cot, and, at last, to the hills, where the queen 
 of night faded away in the light that burst on the 
 horizon. 
 
 There was a traveller on the Via Appia at that early 
 hour, and, as the golden clouds arose, he knelt and 
 bowed his head ; but, though he turned to the East, it 
 was not the sun he worshipped. His was the mysterious 
 faith known in Rome but to be reviled, scorned, and 
 persecuted ; his allegiance was sworn to the mighty
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. ly 
 
 Chieftain Who had conquered from the Cross, Whose 
 army, wide spreading yet invisible, victorious yet 
 oppressed, trod even now the vast realms of the Eoman 
 empire in the east and the west ; Whose war cry, uttered 
 from on high, called up myriads from the bowels of the 
 earth, Whose adorable ISTame at which spirits above and 
 below bow in threefold awe must be guarded as a 
 sacred mystery, to be whispered but under cover of the 
 night's darkness, revealed but to the faithful initiated, 
 and sheltered beneath the surface of the soil beyond 
 the profaning reach of man. Therefore, the traveller 
 turned towards the Campagna, and with head bowed 
 low to the earth knelt awaiting the arrival of the 
 brethren who, he knew, must at that early hour be with- 
 drawing from the Catacombs, and to whom he proposed 
 making himself known ; meanwhile he murmured the 
 prayer in which all the Church joined at early dawn, 
 while angels bore aloft the hymn of praise from the 
 prison, the palace, and the hiding-place, and round 
 the entire world ^ thrilled the echo of the Catholic 
 Amen! 
 
 Who has not heard of Origen ? the Church's luminary, 
 who wrote more books than some men can read in a 
 life-time ! whose infancy gave such promise ! whose 
 ardent thirst for death worthy of a martyr's son could 
 only be restrained by the innocent fraud of his mother, 
 who, secreting the boy's garments, prevented him from 
 running to the prison where his father awaited his 
 sentence ! Who has not quailed at hearing that the 
 giant efforts made by that master spirit proved unavail-
 
 1 8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 ing to keep him in the upward, path, and that the 
 Church mourns over Origen as one fallen away ? Who 
 has not wondered at his science united to that purity of 
 heart so spotless in early childhood that his father 
 Leonidas had knelt before the cradle of his little son 
 and kissed the breast that was even then the temple of 
 the Holy Ghost? 
 
 And this traveller's worn countenance when he 
 rose from his prostrate position and raised his head, 
 what a tale it told ! how the energies of his soul had 
 stamped it as with a seal, how precious the signs of age 
 on that forehead wrinkled more by labour and austerity 
 than years! how often that emaciated frame quivered 
 under the excitement of strong feeling, revealing an 
 impetuous nature brought under control by self-disci- 
 pline and an iron will ! how guileless the mind which, 
 born to command the world in the highest realms of 
 genius, could thus forget its powers in the lowliness of 
 self-abasement and seek in the dust of the roadside the 
 traces of its God ! 
 
 For there was a tradition attached to the spot 
 where he had knelt, and, although he trod that road 
 almost for the first time, he knew it at once. Here St. 
 Peter escaping from persecution had been prevented by 
 a visi(3n of the Divine Master bearing His cross : 
 
 " And where goest thou, Master ? " asked the affrighted 
 disciple. 
 
 " To be crucified anew," was the reproving answer of 
 Jesus to the faint-hearted apostle, who forthwith re- 
 turned to the death that awaited him in Kome. With
 
 Flo7'a : the Roman AlaT-tyn^ 19 
 
 lips pressed to the pavement, covering with kisses the 
 footprints of more than human size and of perfect sym- 
 metry marked in the stone, the fervent African sighed 
 for the martyr's crown which had once awakened his 
 boyish enthusiasm. " Oh Lord," he exclaimed, " shall 
 there be denied me the glory of being faithful unto death, 
 the triumph of w^ashing in my life-blood the stains con- 
 tracted in life's dreary path ? " And over that powerful 
 frame there passed the quivering of a mortal agony. A 
 prophetic spirit seemed to have been imparted at this 
 moment to Origen : visions arose of a thorny crown 
 woven with the laurels of fame ; the robe of calumny 
 clinging to him and consuming his life away ; and, 
 lastly, the doubt, dreadful, overpowering, scorching in 
 
 its fiery breath Would the grace of faith be 
 
 granted to him till the end ? Alas 1 how often is there 
 less danger in the encounter with wild beasts than in 
 wrestling with an invisible enemy ! how much easier at 
 times is it to pass through the ordeal of earthly fires 
 than to issue unscathed from the spiritual contest with 
 God's foe and ours ! * 
 
 * Origen was born at Alexandria in 185 a.d., and surnamed 
 Adamantius from his assiduity at his studies. He taught the 
 faithful publicly in Alexandria at the request of his bishop, 
 Demetrius ; but a sedition arising in that city, he left it and 
 retired to Palestine, at which his bishop was displeased \ and 
 Origen having, at the request of the prelates of that province, 
 explained the Holy Scriptures in public, Demetrius manifested 
 his disapprobation at this charge being entrusted to one who was 
 only a deacon. He recalled Origen, who continued for some 
 years to edify the faithful by his holy life and labours. Being 
 sent to Acliaia, he was, on his way thither, ordained priest at
 
 20 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 During the first half-hour which followed the break 
 of day, the sun rose higher and higher ; then came the 
 sounds of animated life : the carolling of little birds, 
 the shepherd's voice and the lowing of herds, the dis- 
 tant hum of population wafted over the fields from 
 living Eome. Presently was heard a noise of wild 
 mirth, approaching nearer and nearer, a jarring of 
 discordant music and strange shrieking. A procession 
 issued from the Porta Capena, headed by maidens in 
 
 Csesarea by the bishoj) Tlieoctistus without the consent or 
 advice of Demetrius, who, resenting this, deposed Origen and 
 accused him of having taught several errors, among others 
 that Satan will be saved. Origen cleared himself entirely of 
 this imputation, established himself at Ca3sarea, where Tlieoctis- 
 tus, Gregory Tliaumaturgus, and Athenodorus took him for their 
 master. The bishops of Arabia invited him to go there to convert 
 Beryllus, bishop of Bostra, who denied that Jesus Christ had had 
 any existence before the Incarnation. He accomplished that task 
 and Beryllus expressed his gratitude to him. A council being 
 held in that province against certain heretics who declared that 
 the soul died with the body, Origen was called in and con- 
 founded the false doctrine by his sound and powerful reason- 
 ing. During the persecution of Decius in 249, he was cast into 
 prison and tortured several times, but not put to death, in the 
 hope that if he apostatized others would follow his example. He 
 was set free and died at Tyre in 254 in his 69th year. It has 
 been alleged that to obtain his deliverance he pretended to offer 
 incense to the idol Serapis, at Alexandria, but this has not been 
 proved. Few men have written as much as he has. His works 
 are " An Exhortation to Martyrdom," and " Commentaries on Holy 
 Scripture ". He is the first who went through the entire sacred 
 text ; the greater part of this work still exists, and it breathes 
 faith and piety. He laboured at an edition of the Bible in six 
 columns, confronting the different versions already made ; he 
 considered that of the Septuagint as the most authentic. Sermons 
 of his had been collected to the number of one thousand. He
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 21 
 
 yellow robes, playing the tambourine, and dancing to 
 their music ; behind them a long train of Flamens or 
 priests bearing poles surmounted by pines, while others 
 held bucklers on which they rapped with spears to imi- 
 tate the clashing of arms ; behind these again walked 
 youths, casting on the ground handfuls of gold-dust 
 which glittered in the sun's rays as it fell ; these last 
 surrounded a chariot drawn by six milk-white horses, 
 and carrying an idol more senseless still than the many 
 
 had generally seven secretaries whose sole occupation was to 
 write from his dictation. In his book of Princijpia, which is not 
 original, but translated by Rufinus, we certainly find some per- 
 nicious doctrines and a system founded on that of Plato. He has 
 been accused of making God material, but this he utterly denied. 
 It was immediately after his death that doubts arose as to his 
 orthodoxy. In the 4th century, the Arians proved their errors by 
 his doctrine. St. Athanasius, St. Basil, and St. Gregory of 
 Nazianzen defended him as having spoken in orthodox language of 
 the divinity of Christ ; St. Hilary, St. Ambrose, and St. Gregory 
 of Nyssa praise his works ; but St. Basil says expressly that he 
 did not think rightly about the Holy Ghost, He was condemned by 
 the fifth general council. St. Epiphanus and St. John Climacus 
 spoke very strongly against his doctrines, and Pope Pelagius II. 
 said that no heretic had taught anything so pernicious as Origen. 
 Pope Martin I. pronounced anathema against him in the first 
 council of Lateran in 649. St. Augustine and John of Damascus 
 wrote against him ; St. John Chrysostom and John of Jerusalem 
 in his defence. In the 3rd century, the Emperor Justinian issued 
 an edict against him, and he was condemned in the Council of 
 Constantinople, the acts of which have been added to the fifth 
 general council. (See on this subject the TAfe of Tertullian and 
 Origen, printed in Paris in 1675 ; Memoirs of Tilleniont for Ec- 
 clesiastical History, Vol. 3 ; Ceillier, History of Sacred and Ecclesi- 
 astical Writers, Vols. 2 and 3 ; Origeniana, by Huet, who has 
 published all that remains of Origen's Commentaries on the New 
 Testament.) — [Teller's Dictionary.]
 
 2 2 Flora : the Romaji Martyr. 
 
 heathen divinities set up in pagan Eome. The object 
 of all this worship was a black stone, taken from the 
 Temple of the Sun at Emesa by Heliogabalus, when he 
 left the altars of his favourite god to assume the Eoman 
 purple, continuing, however, to revere him as his tute- 
 lary divinity. To this block, adorned with precious 
 gems, and placed in a temple on the Palatine, he had 
 ordered universal homage to be paid ; in its honour he 
 had chanoed his name from Antoninus to that of Helio- 
 gabalus, alluding to the god of the Sun. The Imperial 
 fanatic had transported to the shrine of his favourite the 
 Ancilia, the Palladium, and all the sacred pledges of 
 the faith of ISTuma, and, although these were, after the 
 death of the emperor, restored to their respective places 
 of worship, yet the College of Flamens continued to 
 exercise their functions, during the reign of his brotlier, 
 Alexander Severus, and kept up the ceremony of ac- 
 companying the god in procession each year as far as 
 the river Slemon outside the Porta Capena. 
 
 Origen, wishing to avoid coming in contact with 
 the motley worshippers, concealed himself in the sha- 
 dow of a tomb, and waited for them to pass. Just at 
 this moment, a cloud of dust arose on the Via Appia 
 in the distance, and the tramping of horses' hoofs re- 
 sounded on the pavement ; they were coming towards 
 Eome, and the procession stopped, seized with fear. 
 On, on, sped the horsemen ! They were not simply a 
 military escort, bearing messages, as was their wont, 
 from one part to another of that extensive empire, but 
 they were a strong force, ranged in serried ranks.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 23 
 
 and they went at a regular pace, as if hurrying to 
 the battle-field. The people recognised a goodly de- 
 tachment of the Praetorian guard. These, under indo- 
 lent Emperors and overbearing generals, had grown to 
 be more masters of Eome than the senate or the 
 Caesar ; and the efforts of Alexander Severus to restore 
 discipline among them had rendered him an object of 
 their hatred. The Emperor was at that time on the 
 banks of the Rhine at the head of a large army ; what 
 then could bring these guards to Eome at so great a 
 distance from the camp ? From his hiding-place, 
 Origen watched them, and thought their appearance 
 was ominous of bad tidings. He himself had come to 
 Rome at the secret instigation of Mammea, mother to 
 the emperor ; she, having seen and heard the Christian 
 philosopher at Antioch, had grown enamoured of his 
 doctrine. Origen, on drawing near to the great city, had 
 been informed that Alexander, scarcely returned from 
 the Persian war, had left his capital again, to encounter 
 another foe in Germany, but nevertheless he had de- 
 termined to pursue his journey, and await the Emperor's 
 return. As the band of Praitorian guards approached, 
 Origen was lost in conjecture. 
 
 His suspense was not of long duration. The soldiers 
 drove up at a rapid pace, and, as they came near to the 
 religious assembly, they reined in their steeds. Had 
 the priests moved aside, and not intercepted their path, 
 perhaps they would have passed on, but the Sacrificator 
 veiled his head, and, with an angry gesture, ordered 
 them to stop. A hoarse laugh burst from the rude
 
 24 Flora : the Roman Marly 7^. , 
 
 soldiers, who were barbarians for the most part, and a 
 voice called out from the ranks : — " The effeminate 
 Syrian Emperor is no more ! Let the same day see 
 his downfall, and that of the foreign gods." 
 
 A shout of applause echoed this speech, and, sur- 
 rounding the chariot and brandishing their weapons, the 
 guards made as if they would have taken possession of 
 the stone god, whose magnificent equipage excited their 
 covetousness, but the multitude shrieked, the Flamens 
 put themselves in an attitude of resistance, or at least 
 of opposition; some of the horses, maddened by the 
 tumult, broke away, the people endeavoured to turn the 
 remaining white steeds towards the city, but were 
 charged by the guards, and all the fields were covered 
 by priests, children, frightened maidens and soldiers in 
 pursuit. 
 
 Origen found it impossible to leave his place of con- 
 cealment, and any help he could have offered would have 
 proved ineffectual. He deemed it wiser to withdraw 
 further into the Campagna ; walking backwards in order 
 to keep his eye fixed on what was going on before him 
 in the road, he continued retreating till he came to a 
 low wall ; satisfied now that he was at too great a dis- 
 tance to be seen or pursued, he stepped over it, and let 
 himself down on the other side. The ground was less 
 high within than without the enclosure, so that Origen 
 met with a fall which slightly stunned him ; he rested 
 on a heap of newly dug earth, and felt grateful for his 
 escape. He reflected over what he had heard. Could it 
 be that Alexander Severus was no more ? that kind
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 25 
 
 friend to the Christians, suspected of being a Christian 
 himself ? And Mammea, in whose generous heart and 
 superior mind he had hoped to find a protectress for the 
 persecuted faith, where was she ? would she survive the 
 son whose infancy she had guided, whose throne she had 
 graced before his hands were strong enough to assume 
 the reins of power ? had she perished with him, or did 
 she weep over his loss ? 
 
 Amid these conflicting thoughts, a wonderful sensa- 
 tion of peace stole over the traveller. Was there some- 
 thing hallowed in the air he breathed, that when the 
 morning breeze fanned his heated brow, he felt as if an 
 Angel of God had passed over him with outspread 
 wings ? It was so, indeed ! for he stood in the Presence 
 of Him Who is hidden yet revealed, at Whose approach 
 the unbeliever trembles with mysterious awe, and the 
 child of the true Faith rejoices that he has found Him 
 in Whom he liveth, moveth, and hath his being, and 
 to Whom the voice of the spirit of adoption calls out : 
 Abba! Father! 
 
 At Origen's feet there was a heap of brambles, collected 
 as if for those fires with which labourers sometimes cover 
 a barren piece of ground to fertilize it with ashes ; he 
 stooped to examine and saw a few bricks loosely put 
 together ; he moved them aside with his hands and 
 found concealed a fissure in the ground. His heart 
 leaped for joy ; this must be a luminare, so practised as 
 to give light and air to the Catacombs. He knelt down 
 and looked, but could not see into the darkness; sounds 
 however reached his ear ; he must be near the Presbi/-
 
 26 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 terium or chapel where the Holy Mysteries were being 
 offered, in presence of the assembled Christians. What 
 wonder then, if, like Moses, he had felt that the ground 
 he trod on was thrice holy ! Tliere was a long and 
 solemn pause. He knew they were at the Breaking of 
 Bread ; he joined with them in prayer and mystic com- 
 munion. Again he heard a sound, but this time it was 
 no longer solemn and low ; the faithful were singing a 
 hymn of thanksgiving, and above them all rose a voice 
 clear, ringing, silvery like an instrument, yet human in 
 its pathos, and drawn from the deep well-springs of a 
 woman's heart. It was such a voice as the Father of 
 poets would have coveted to be the messenger of his 
 inspired accents among men; that music would have 
 kindled enthusiasm, led on warriors to the battle-field, 
 or brave hearts to heroic deeds. Had it thrilled in the 
 halls of pleasure, it might have intoxicated an Alexander, 
 set fire to another Persepolis ; but the young songstress 
 had chosen to herself another destiny and another fame ! 
 To her, the world was the enemy of her God, human 
 passions the object of her scorn. And love, that fountain 
 once pure in its origin, only corrupted when it passes 
 through earthly channels, that sometimes giver of hap- 
 piness and frequent destroyer of peace, had only visited 
 Cecilia to leave her unscathed. Between earthly joys- 
 and lier virgin heart she had raised a barrier, never to 
 be withdrawn, like the holy veil of the temple which 
 divides the external world from the Sanctuary of God. 
 
 The sounds died away, and Origen hastened to cover 
 the orifice again as he had found it, and looked round
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 27 
 
 to see whether he could find any one to lead him to the 
 entrance of these Catacombs, where he would be in the 
 midst of brethren. He returned to the wall he had 
 passed over, and saw a poor beggar wending his way 
 wearily on crutches. With that prompt charity which 
 Christians practised in those days as their first duty, 
 he called to him gently, offering him his assistance or 
 an alms. The mendicant drew near, looked at him 
 with surprise, and both remained a few seconds gazing 
 at each other hesitatingly ; at the same moment, there 
 was a rustling sound among the vines, and the tall 
 figure of a man clothed in the garb of a slave, holding 
 branches in one hand as if he were a gardener, and 
 wearing a bunch of keys at his girdle, came before the 
 traveller, looked at him sternly, then over the wall at 
 the beggar, with a glance of enquiry. 
 
 " He called to me, offering me charity," explained 
 the latter, "but I do not know him." 
 
 An expression of satisfaction was visible on the 
 countenance of the new-comer, yet he still doubted. 
 
 "I seek brethren," resumed Origen, "in the name of" 
 
 he put his hand to his forehead and made with 
 
 his finger a sign so imperceptible as to be only re- 
 cognized by the initiated. Such were the two in whose 
 presence he stood ; the cripple shouldering his crutch, 
 waved his hand, and the slave dropping the branches 
 he held, kissed his fingers,* and both said, " Stranger 
 and brother, hail ". 
 
 * The customary salutation in Rome, from which was derived 
 the word adorare (putting the hand to the mouth).
 
 28 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 
 
 The mighty talisman had done its work, the Sign of 
 Him that was crucified had rallied to the Master's call 
 those three brave hearts, each doing His Will in his 
 separate calling ; the luminary of the Church, the out- 
 cast of society, and the captive warrior become a 
 Christian slave. After the recognition, there was a 
 moment's silence, which Origen was the first to break : 
 *' I am a stranger," he said, " come from Palestine on a 
 pilgrimage to the city of the Apostles ; a tumult 
 occurred on the road which obliged me to take refuge 
 in this lonely vineyard, of which thou seemest to be 
 the guardian," he continued, addressing the slave ; " is 
 it not so?" 
 
 " For this hour, I keep guard in order to warn the 
 faithful of any danger ; to passers-by, I seem but a 
 gardener." 
 
 " And that is of good augury," replied the new-comer 
 smiling ; " when our Master had arisen, and sought to 
 veil His glory to men, He assumed that disguise. But 
 He is near, nay, under this very soil ; I would wish to 
 kneel to Him like the Maojdalen of old, callinsj Him 
 Eabboui. Wilt thou lead me, brother ? " 
 
 " It is late, and the Mysteries have drawn to a close ; 
 but here come noble Eomans, Valerian and Tiburtius, 
 they can inform you on all subjects." 
 
 The slave went to meet the young men whose names 
 he had mentioned, exchanged a few words with them, 
 then fell back a few steps behind them, joining a group 
 of Christians who also were coming away from the 
 Catacombs. The patricians addressed Origen in terms
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 29 
 
 of extreme courtesy, saluting him as the slave had 
 done before with the name of brother. 
 
 " Can we serve you in any way ? " asked he who 
 seemed to be the elder ; " you are a traveller and must 
 require a resting-place. Will you share our house in 
 Eome ? " 
 
 " Thanks, I am weary indeed, but I wish to see our 
 common father before taking any rest, and I know he 
 has taken refuge somewhere near this spot." 
 
 " You are well informed." 
 
 " Perhaps the guardian I met on entering this vine- 
 yard may conduct me to the feet of Urban." 
 
 " Certainly. That is Claudius, slave of Florentius ; 
 let him guide you and accompany you to Eome ; I can 
 easily explain to his master the cause of the delay." 
 
 " Florentius ! " exclaimed the traveller, drawing a 
 little tablet from his breast ; " I know that name, I 
 bring letters to that worthy Roman." 
 
 " How singular ! how plainly we see that our Heavenly 
 Father watches over us ! I will not detain you, but 
 when you have paid homage to the Pontiff, come to us 
 near the bridge in the Via Salutaris ; my wife and my 
 brother, Tiburtius, will rejoice to see you, as indeed all 
 my household." So saying, he went to the group of 
 Christians where the women and men had come out in 
 separate bands from the place of worship, a practice 
 rigorously enforced by the Church in those days, and, 
 taking by the hand a lady of very low stature and 
 uncommon beauty, who was leading a little girl, 
 " Cecilia," he said, " come to welcome a stranger ! "
 
 30 Flo7^a : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 She greeted the traveller as her husband and brother- 
 in-law had done ; then as Origen looked enquiringly at 
 the little girl by Cecilia's side : 
 
 " This is Agatha," she explained, " the child of a 
 friend of mine who is a Christian. She sent her to me 
 from Syracuse under pretext of her health requiring the 
 climate of Eome, but in reality to remove her from the 
 influence of her Pagan father. Kiss the hand of the 
 stranger, little one." 
 
 " Does he love Him ? " asked the child, looking up to 
 heaven. 
 
 " Yes ; do not fear, my child. You must excuse her," 
 continued Cecilia, addressing Origen, *' Agatha is a fierce 
 little Christian ; her childish soul has drunk in the 
 Saving Word with such eagerness that she longs for 
 God, and asks me continually when His hour will 
 come." 
 
 The traveller looked down at the little girl with a 
 pleased smile. " And so you want to go to God ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes," she replied ; " I have prayed to Him that I 
 may wash my garments in the blood of the Lamb, and 
 He will hear me." She clung to the stole of her pro- 
 tectress and kissed it. Origen placed his hand on the 
 child's head. "Amen!" he exclaimed. "Yea, verily 
 from the mouths of infants Thou has joerfected praise, 
 Oh Lord. And now, my noble friends, I thank you for 
 this kind welcome, and shall visit you later ; let me 
 now follow this trustworthy slave." 
 
 They parted, to proceed in opposite directions, Origen
 
 Flora : the Roman Marty 1^. 31 
 
 carefully treading along tlie barren field — a pathway 
 which he could not discern, but which was perfectly 
 visible to the practised eye of the slave. 
 
 " And of what nation are you, Claudius ? " he asked, 
 wishing to show kindness in return for that he had met 
 with. 
 
 " Britain," was the answer, in a tone of voice that was 
 solemn, as if a deep chord had been touched. 
 
 " The love of country seems strong within you. I feel 
 for you." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose we all love our native land ; but my 
 feeling for Britain is something more." 
 
 " You speak the language of Eome as if you had dwelt 
 here a long time. How comes that ? Will you tell me 
 your past history ? I am a stranger, but I have known 
 suffering." 
 
 " You have unlocked my heart, noble stranger, and I 
 shall tell you what I have kept secret for years. I was 
 a child when I followed my captive father to Eome in 
 the triumph of the Emperor Severus. I was his com- 
 panion in slavery, but not for long ; the love of liberty 
 burned within me, and the flame was kept alive by his 
 words. My father was a chieftain, a relation of him 
 whom the Emperor Claudius restored to his country 
 unfettered and redeemed. But woe to the race of Car- 
 a-doc ! His descendants would not submit to be depen- 
 dent on Eome. They renewed the old strife, were taken 
 prisoners, and had to endure the galling yoke and the 
 hated chain. My sire expired under the blows ordered 
 by a cruel master, and I, burning with the desire for
 
 32 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 revenge, concealed my feelings so well that I asked and 
 obtained a place in Eome's mercenary legion. My 
 extreme youth had saved me from the ignominy of 
 being branded a slave. I was strong. They took me 
 to serve in their ranks, as they thought, and I followed 
 them in the reinforcements which were sent to guard 
 the Eoman possessions in Britain. But, ah ! no sooner 
 had my foot pressed the parent soil than I executed 
 my long-formed resolution. I stole from my sentry's 
 post in the '.night, leaving my sagum, lacerim, and 
 armour on the ground; the latter I besmeared with 
 blood, the garments I tore, to make those who found 
 them suppose I had fought a deadly strife. I hurried 
 away, and, after long seeking, found again the mountain 
 home I had left as a child. I gladly assumed the 
 arms of the Britons, the dirk and the heavy sword, 
 whose clang, while dangling at my side, incited to 
 pursuit, and the lance, and my target for only defence. 
 The children of my tribe welcomed the wanderer, whose 
 heart had never forgotten freedom in a foreign land ; 
 they linked me to a beautiful maiden, in order that 
 the race of Caractacus might live again. She was a 
 Christian ; and, had I remained by her side, I should 
 have learned earlier the high lesson which forbids 
 revenge ; peace and the island home might still be 
 mine ! I was called to the battle-field only two years 
 after my marriage, which was solemnised according to 
 the rites of her religion by a solitary missionary, who 
 had watched over her childhood, and been long sheltered 
 by her father. The old man baptized our first-born,
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 33 
 
 and would have pressed me too to bow my head to the 
 saving waters, but my heart was yet too full of glory 
 and revenge. The last time I went out to battle, my 
 wife girt on my sword, and wept that I should go. I 
 reproached her with her weakness, but her forebodings 
 were fulfilled, that was the hour of our parting ; I was 
 taken prisoner, and the doom of my slavery was sealed." 
 
 " And then you returned to Eome ? " 
 
 " I did ! by the will of Him who punished thus my 
 pride and spirit of revenge. Yet I bless the chain 
 which He has blessed, it has fettered me for ever to my 
 Master's cross." 
 
 " How did you become a Christian ? " 
 
 " When the British chieftain, from whom I descend, 
 came in chains to Eome, and obtained from the Em- 
 peror the gift of freedom, his daughter, Eufina, was 
 detained here as a hostage, assumed the name of 
 Claudia, and married the Eoman Senator Pudens, who 
 became the disciple of St. Peter. Their children were 
 Pudentiana and Praxedes." 
 
 " What, Claudius ! do you indeed belong to that 
 family ? then you have a claim to glory far higher than 
 lies in your affinity to the British chief." 
 
 "The great-grandchildren of Claudia were still living 
 in Eome. I remembered the tie of relationship, and 
 sought them in those hours of despair, which are only 
 known to the heart that has lost its all. I found them 
 youths and maidens of a pure life and of loving good- 
 ness, employed in ministering to the wants of their 
 suffering brethren, visiting them in prison, encouraging
 
 34 Flora : the Ro77ta?i Martyr. 
 
 them to die, consoling their orphan children. I went 
 to them often, for I had a kind master who allowed me 
 to enjoy comparative liberty. I found them, nightly, 
 watching and praying, after a day of good deeds ; I saw 
 them guardians of the sanctuary hallowed by Peter's 
 dwelling and Pudentiana's prayers. When my hand 
 sought theirs in friendshi]3, I could see, and they 
 proudly showed it, stains of a roseate hue impressed on 
 their delicate fingers, a glorious and hereditary mark 
 which had passed to the nephews and nieces of Prax- 
 edes and Pudentiana, in reward for the zeal with 
 which those holy virgins had collected the blood of 
 Christ's martyrs, and devoted their lives to that special 
 work. I learnt the Christian faith, implored the grace 
 of baptism, and, on that very font where the grand- 
 daughters of Caractacus preserved the gore of those 
 that were slain, I inclined my head, formerly too proud 
 to bow to an earthly master's yoke. And, oh ! that 
 water washed out all that was sinful within me, and I 
 arose with an ardent thirst to do and to suffer for my 
 heavenly Master's name. I sighed for the baptism of 
 blood, and as if a foreshadowing dream of that last 
 victory had arisen before me, when I issued from the 
 holy font, my head was bathed in a purple 'stream, for 
 a long-preserved relic had been used in the holy cere- 
 mony. To me, as a relation of Praxedes and Pudentiana, 
 Baptism had been administered with a shell with which 
 they were wont to scoop up the earth, saturated with 
 blood, after their brethren's martyrdom." 
 
 Both Origen and the slave had reached the entrance
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 35 
 
 to the Catacombs and lingered without, while the nar- 
 rator, speaking from the fulness of his heart, made his 
 hearer thrill with sympathy. Tears stood in Claudius' 
 eyes as he concluded, and, wiping them away, " Forgive 
 me," he said, "for thus detaining you, the memories you 
 have evoked are strong." 
 
 " Nay ! I am to blame for questioning you, but, be- 
 lieve me, you have spoken to the heart of a friend. 
 May I ask one question more ? You speak as one who 
 has frequented schools. Where have you acquired know- 
 ledge?" 
 
 " In extreme youth, an insatiable desire to learn drew 
 me to hear the lessons of the Druids ; the bards of our 
 climes also found in me a willing pupil, and I might 
 have sung the glories of our people and of our name, 
 but, now that I have studied here," and he placed his 
 hand on his breast, where lay concealed a small volume, 
 *' I seek to know but Our Lord, and Him Crucified." 
 
 " Amen ! " responded his companion. " May the 
 same grace be granted to me. But how comes this ? 
 where are you leading me ? I have been in Eome 
 before, when I was much younger — only twenty-six 
 years of age, and though I made but a short stay, I re- 
 member full well coming often to the cemeteries, but 
 the entrance was very different, not on this side of the 
 road at all." 
 
 "Your memory has not failed you, but we are obliged 
 to be much more on our guard now ; we have blocked 
 up the old entrance, cut a private staircase, communi- 
 cating by a movable ladder with this arenaria which
 
 36 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 has been quite abandoned since the workmen extracted 
 all the material they could find, and we are very 
 safe." 
 
 The slave drew two small lamps from a hiding-place 
 they were secreted in, and gave one to his companion, 
 telling him they would light them at the foot of the 
 steps. They descended with great precaution until 
 they reached a staircase cut out in the tufa litoide, and 
 found themselves in the Catacombs, where they began 
 to thread the narrow passages, on each side of which 
 lay brethren asleep awaiting the resurrection. There 
 they lay ! the first fruits of the glorified saints, and on 
 their graves the palm of triumph, the dove of inno- 
 cence, were rudely engraved ; the phials of clotted 
 blood inserted in the cement, while it had been yet 
 fresh, told of many a hard-won victory and gory 
 triumph on the battle-field of God. Origen pressed his 
 forehead reverently to many of the marble slabs, on 
 which a few letters, a few words, at most, barely 
 indicated the great deeds which Angels had already 
 registered at the Judgment Seat of God. Claudius, 
 still leading the way, now told him they had reached 
 the chapel of Pontiffs, and, raising his voice, uttered the 
 usual formula, at which two acolytes came forward. 
 The slave told them his errand, and confided the 
 stranger to their care. Origen then entered alone the 
 vaulted chamber which the venerable Urban had 
 chosen as his place of refuge. It was sufficiently 
 spacious, and received light and air from a large 
 luminare. At the further end was a step of marble on
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 37 
 
 which stood an altar supported by four pillars, and in 
 the wall behind this was an older and more simple 
 kind of altar — a sepulchre hewn out of the rock, the 
 flat covering of which was once the mensa whereon 
 the holy mysteries were celebrated ; the front was of 
 brickwork. St. Zephyrinus, the immediate predecessor 
 of Urban, held this place of honour in the cemetery he 
 had himself designed, and occupied the principal tomb. 
 This cemetery he had entrusted to St. Calixtus, from 
 whom it took its name, and it was ever after under the 
 exclusive care of the Popes. This is why we find 
 Urban abiding here * as guardian of the sacred deposit 
 which has been transmitted from the Catacomb to the 
 Vatican, imperishable then as now in the hands of a 
 decrepit old man. Surrounded by the mutilated re- 
 mains of his august predecessors, leaning perhaps 
 against the very grave which was to close over his 
 fast-sinking frame, Urban reigned, a Sovereign and a 
 Father, more truly Imperator et Fontifex Maximum 
 than the Caesar on his throne. Here, he daily offered 
 the Holy Sacrifice, here he found consolation in his 
 solitude, by praying for his flock and receiving their 
 visits. Even now, some of the faithful had lingered after 
 the celebration of the Mysteries to expose their spiritual 
 wants to their common Father, and seek his advice. 
 At the entrance of the stranger they withdrew, and 
 Origen fell prostrate before the earthly representative 
 
 * This passage is taken verbatim from Eoma Sotteranea by 
 Dr. Northcote. Pages 87, 131.
 
 38 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 of his God. As he had that morning pressed his lips on 
 the foot-prints of the high road, so now he covered 
 with tears and kisses the feet of him to whom Christ 
 had confided His authority. The Pontiff raised and 
 welcomed him, for the science and piety of that son were 
 well known. He heard gladly from him of the welfare 
 of those distant Churches all referring to Eome in the 
 bonds of unity. Origen respectfully alluded to the 
 sorrows that were clouding the Pope's life, but the 
 holy man gloried in the trials appointed by God to 
 strengthen His Church. They spoke of the Empire 
 too, and its vicissitudes. On hearing of the tumult 
 on the road, which the traveller had witnessed. Urban 
 observed, " Yet I do not think with you, my son, that 
 this denotes our Emperor is no more. Certainly the 
 return of the Praetorian Guard portends a revolution, 
 but it may be that they only came to give the senate 
 an account of the dispositions of the army. Some 
 conspiracy is probably on foot, headed perhaps by the 
 barbarian general Maximinus, who has long been sus- 
 pected of aspiring to the purple. He keeps his royal 
 master in Thracia, with the view of promoting his own 
 ends ; yet, methinks, if he had succeeded, we should 
 have known it before this. The proclamation of his 
 accession to the Empire would have been made with 
 more pomp. It could not have been published on the 
 high road by a few Praetorian Guards. No, my son, 
 Alexander still lives, but, alas ! the mildness of his rule 
 has passed away, or rather in his absence the Prefect 
 of Eome, Almachius, outsteps his orders, and endeavours
 
 Flora : the Rouian Martyr. 39 
 
 to become popular by persecuting the Christians. Many 
 of our brethren have been seized, and taken before the 
 judges. Instead of the high mission to which the 
 Emperor's mother called thee, thou hast come in 
 troubled times, my son." 
 
 " Oh, Father, that I were worthy to meet here with 
 torture and the palm ! " 
 
 "No, thou art not thus called to serve the Spouse 
 of Christ. Thou must uphold her to friend and to foe, 
 make her light so to shine before men that they will grow 
 enamoured with her beauty ; thou must carry others to 
 the fold, but thou canst not lay down thy life for them 
 as He did," and he raised his finger towards an image 
 of the Good Shepherd painted on the ceiling. "Ay, 
 my son," he continued, " it is a noble task to disentangle 
 the poor erring one from the thorns of the world, and 
 bring it to His feet, to employ the energies of thy 
 mighty soul in promoting His glory ; but wonder not, 
 nor tremble, if thou find that a path long and rough has 
 been allotted thee, for the sufferings of the mind are 
 very poignant ; thou hast drunk deep of science, thou 
 must ascend a special Calvary more toilsome than the 
 way of the Cross assigned to all." 
 
 He paused, gave a long sigh as if he saw into the 
 future, then changed the subject. " Thou art a traveller, 
 and thy weary limbs require rest. Share with us the food 
 brought by Christians for our daily sustenance," and he 
 reached an ampolla with some bread and dried fruit 
 from a niche in the wall. " And where wilt thou seek 
 shelter in Eome ? "
 
 40 Flora : the Roina^i Marty7\ 
 
 " A noble Eoman, by name Valerian, accosted me on 
 my way here, gave me a trusty slave as a guide, and 
 invited me to reside under his roof in Eome." 
 
 " He is our dearly beloved son, newly called to the 
 faith ; thou surely didst not meet him alone ? " 
 
 " No, his brother was by his side, and a lady of great 
 beauty, his consort, but small and slight as a young 
 girl." 
 
 " That is Cecilia, and with her modest, unassuming 
 manner, she is an apostle. Oh, the noble things done 
 by that great mind and weak frame ! How many has 
 she brought here to be baptized ! A Christian from 
 her childhood, she has been the joy of my heart when 
 I had cause to mourn. She has been as a lamp lit 
 by Christ's love in the midst of her Pagan home, and 
 has not shone in vain, for many that saw her have been 
 brought to the faith by her sweet influence. Called, 
 as many of our Christian maidens are, to that holy 
 state in which a Heavenly Spouse closes their heart 
 to all earthly love, Cecilia was faithful, and made me 
 witness to her solemn vow. A few months ago she 
 came to confide to me the anguish of her mind. Her 
 father had affianced her to Valerian, a noble Eoman, 
 and the day fixed for her nuptials was at hand. A 
 despair, such as the fear of death could never awaken, 
 had taken possession of her soul, and she asked me 
 what she could do to avert the dreaded fate. The 
 old Eoman spirit spoke within her, for among her 
 ancestors she numbers Caia Cecilia Tanaquil, the 
 wife of Tarquin the Ancient. She asked me whether
 
 Flora : the Ro?nan Martyr. 41 
 
 she might not choose death rather than break the 
 faith she had pledged to Christ. ' Father,' she said, 
 * there lives in the annals of my country a woman 
 who has been praised, though the dignity of the 
 Eoman matron had expired in her before the poniard 
 had done its work ; might not a higher motive justify 
 in me a similar act ? would God accept the sacrifice of 
 Cecilia even as Eome has exalted Lucretia?' I rebuked 
 her sternly, although by the eyes of Paganism the very 
 idea would have been looked upon as suggested by an 
 exalted virtue. I told her her life and death were in 
 God's hands, and bid her trust in Him who preserved 
 Daniel in the lions' den, and the three Hebrew children 
 in the furnace. She prepared to comply with her 
 parents' behest, and I offered up unceasing prayers that 
 Heaven would protect her : a vision had forewarned me 
 of the triumph of the maiden, and I marvelled how 
 God's word would come to pass. The nuptial day 
 arrived, and I, unseen, mingled in the throng that 
 awaited the bride coming to her husband's home, 
 veiled from head to foot in the yellow veil of the 
 Flamen Bialis, an emblem of conjugal fidelity, because 
 the wife of the Flamen alone can never be divorced. 
 Cecilia wore the Vestal dress and her hair, like that 
 of those priestesses, in six braids ; Eoman maidens 
 always pay thus, on their marriage day, a last public 
 homage to virginity. Little did the bystanders know of 
 the feelings that agitated her. I alone prayed for her 
 from the depths of my heart. The bridal procession 
 passed before the Taberna Meritoria which Pope
 
 42 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Calixtus had, by the permission of the Emperor in 
 less troublous times, received for the use of our brethren 
 and consecrated as a church. I dwelt on the precincts,. 
 and, from the threshold, could see the pomp of that pro- 
 cession. This church is near the house of Valerian, and 
 dear to Christians, as a prodigy took place on its site at 
 the birth of Our Lord. A fountain of oil had sprung up 
 in that spot ; thereby revealing to Pagans the Eeign of 
 the Just One Who had come, and brought plenty and 
 peace. Cecilia bowed her head as she passed the holy 
 place, and I was so near that I could hear her repeat the 
 ejaculation I myself had placed on her lips : * Fiat cor 
 meum ct corpus meiim immaculatum ut own confundar \ 
 She disappeared from my view ; I came here and ceased 
 not to pray till the morning ; sleep then oppressed my 
 eyelids, nor was I aroused till a man's voice called loudly 
 on my name, and a noble youth, kneeling before me, 
 poured forth in burning accents his profession of faith, 
 and told me he was Valerian, the spouse of Cecilia. 
 Thus much I have told thee, that when thou goest to 
 reside with these Christians, thou may est treat them as 
 privileged ones of God ; the remainder of their history 
 thou wilt learn from intercourse with them. And now^ 
 son, thou must be weary. Leave us for thy noble 
 hosts ; we shall await thee at our next assembly. Fare- 
 well" 
 
 Again Origjen knelt, and kissed the old man's feet as- 
 he had done on entering, then sought in the passage the 
 slave who was waiting for him. " I have kept you long,, 
 good Claudius," he said.
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 43 
 
 "I fear me, I have indeed prolonged my absence 
 beyond my usual time, and my master will perceive it." 
 
 " Then do not conduct me any longer. But stay, here 
 is what will explain the long delay. Present this to 
 Florentius." He took a tablet from his girdle, and 
 traced some lines on it with a stylet. " Tell him the 
 stranger who sends this will come with Valerian to 
 see him. Go now, I shall find my way alone." 
 
 They had returned to the light of day and the open 
 air; the traveller and the slave parted, bending their 
 steps in opposite directions.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " \ \ THAT strange clients you have, Valerian," 
 V V remarked a young soldier who had stepped 
 aside from the street, during a shower of rain, and was 
 taking shelter in the outer portico of the noble Eoman's 
 house, at the same time that Valerian came from 
 within. " By Mars ! there is not one of these but is 
 blind, or lame, or deformed ; and yet, their dress is 
 decent, so they cannot be mendicants." 
 
 " And is every citizen who is welcome to my atrium 
 during the rain obliged to be as fine a fellow as your- 
 self?" 
 
 All Eoman houses were divided into two : the public 
 part which every one could enter, contiguous to the 
 street; and the private, separated from the former by 
 an intermediate court, where clients and parasites used 
 to assemble every day to salute their host as he passed 
 out, and were rewarded for their assiduity by receiving 
 each a small loaf of bread, called sportule. There was 
 a tie, akin to relationship, established between patron 
 and client; he patronised them, and took their interests 
 to heart, and they often accompanied him to the 
 Porum, forming a goodly train about him, and endea- 
 voured to prove their gratitude by voting for him, ap- 
 plauding when he spoke in public, and doing his bid-
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 45 
 
 ding at all times. But these who crowded round 
 Valerian were Christian poor, not parasites. He feared 
 lest the soldier might discover his secret and theirs ; he 
 made a private sign to them to disperse, at the same 
 time saying aloud, " You are welcome to stay here 
 during the rain, citizens ". At which they dropped off 
 quietly one by one. 
 
 " Now you must not remain in the atrium, Maximus, 
 but come in and honour us with a visit. You must 
 salute my wife Cecilia." 
 
 " I shall be highly flattered. I heard that you had 
 become a married man while I was away at the wars, 
 and I wonder I have not met you or your lady at the 
 Campus Martins." 
 
 " I have become very domestic, as you shall see." 
 Valerian knocked at the door of his house, which he 
 had closed on leaving it a few minutes before, and a 
 porter answered the summons with alacrity, calling a 
 slave who took off the visitor's military cloak and shook 
 off the drops of rain which had fallen on it. 
 
 " I see you have neither a dog nor a chained slave to 
 guard the entrance," observed the new-comer, " and the 
 cheerful face of this man seems to greet your return, 
 whereas my porter looks up at my face as if he feared a 
 beating." 
 
 " Perhaps you may have sometimes given occasion to 
 him for that." 
 
 "Well ! I own I am rather a rough master; but you 
 were not gentle either when we were youths together. 
 What has altered you ? "
 
 46 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 
 
 Valerian did not answer, but led the way to the 
 exedra, the room generally set apart for conversation; 
 it was unoccupied, and a slave being asked as to where 
 was his mistress, replied she was occupied in distri- 
 buting work. 
 
 " Ask her to favour us with her company." 
 
 They sat down, and in a few minutes Cecilia came, 
 bearing a large basket of fruit in her hands, and fol- 
 lowed by two slaves, carrying wine and small loaves. 
 At the sight of a stranger, she stopped, a little con- 
 fused. 
 
 " You expected another visitor, Cecilia," said her 
 husband, " but he has not yet arrived. This is an old 
 friend of mine, by name Maximus, just returned from 
 the wars." 
 
 " He is welcome," said the young woman, with a 
 sweet smile. " And how fares our august Emperor ?" 
 
 "Why, well ! as long as we can keep base conspirators 
 from plotting against his precious life ; here is to their 
 confusion, and to His Eternity," he exclaimed, as ac- 
 cepting the glass the slave handed to him, he held it up 
 in the air ; " but, first to the gods and the guardian divi- 
 nities of this hearth ! " 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Cecilia, as, with a quick yet easy 
 motion, she held back the libation the officer was about 
 pouring on the floor. Her husband understood her 
 impulse, but trembled lest she should betray herself ; a 
 woman's ready wit, however, came to her aid. " The 
 mosaic of this exedra has been laid only a few days, it 
 is yet fresh, and the strong Falernian wine will stain it
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 47 
 
 irrecoverably ; the pattern is of my own design, so I am 
 rather partial to it." 
 
 " The gods forbid I should spoil it, and, verily, the 
 wine is too good to spill. Thus do I honour the genius 
 of the Emperor and yours," and he quaffed it off at a 
 draught. Xext, moving his chair the better to examine 
 the pavement, " Then you deal not only in the works of 
 your sex, lady, the artist's talent is also yours. A 
 strange device this is ; water, water, on all sides, hills 
 half submerged, a ship, and a flying dove with a branch 
 in her beak ; it is perhaps the deluge of Deucalion, but 
 there are no figures." 
 
 " No ! T wished to have a water-scene for the sake 
 of trying a new colour the artificer has invented. I like 
 the style our Emperor has introduced of uniting mosaic 
 to lastri ; if Valerian consents, all our cellce shall be 
 paved in o'piis alexandrinum." 
 
 " I shall not wonder now, lady, if you are not seen in 
 the public walks, when your time is so usefully em- 
 ployed." 
 
 " Cecilia does not forget the cares of the household 
 either," continued her husband. " Not a day passes 
 but she must needs make the rounds of the Cella 
 Panaria, the Vinaria and Fructuaria ; even now, we 
 called on her in the midst of her occupations." 
 
 " These fruits come from our hortus at Tusculum," 
 she said, holding up a large pear. " The gardener is 
 quite proud of his production." 
 
 " So he may be," replied Maximus, " as well as my 
 friend Valerian to see himself master of such a well-
 
 48 Flora : the Roman Marty7\ 
 
 directed household. I thank him for having allowed 
 me to take a glimpse of his happiness, and I thank you, 
 lady, for permitting a reckless soldier to contemplate 
 virtues he had supposed to belong to former days. 
 Worthy daughter of Caia Tanaquil, may your days be 
 long, and the thread of your life spun of gold." 
 
 About half-an-hour elapsed, during which the friends 
 entertained each other with pleasant conversation. 
 The rain ceased, Maximus rose to take his leave, and, 
 saluting Cecilia respectfully, he bade his hosts fare- 
 well. 
 
 Scarce had he gone when a slave came to announce 
 another visitor, who would not tell his name. They 
 knew this to be the traveller they had met that morn- 
 ing and hastened to receive him. 
 
 " Will you go to the bath or the triclinium ? " asked 
 Valerian. 
 
 " I am afraid I am too much exhausted for the bath, 
 after my long walk, yet I am ashamed to appear before 
 this noble lady in my traveller's garb." 
 
 " Say not so; has it not been enjoined to the pilgrim 
 to travel but with one cloak, and without money in his 
 purse ? My slave will conduct you to a cichiculum 
 where a tunic and toga are prepared for you ; we will 
 await you in the triclinium" 
 
 A few minutes after, the African was ushered into 
 the banqueting hall of the Christian household ; Tibur- 
 tius, the younger brother of Valerian, was there too ; 
 the men stretched on the beds ranged in order for their 
 reclining on during meals. Cecilia sat at the table, and
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 49 
 
 the slaves passed round with ewers and perfumed water 
 to pour on the hands of the guests. 
 
 " How pleasant/' observed the lady, " to be able to 
 speak without fear. When Valerian has Pagan guests 
 to dinner, I am at my wits' ends how to perform the 
 duties of hospitality without the idols interfering." 
 
 " Oh ! clever Cecilia," exclaimed her husband, laugh- 
 ing, " how you cut short our friend Maximus, \^hen he 
 would have poured forth his libation." 
 
 " Poor centurion ! he looks so good, may he be 
 enlightened. Our guest does not know perhaps it is 
 the Eoman custom to begin dinner by the eggs. Ah 
 ovo usque ad mala!' 
 
 " Noble hostess ! there are many hermits in the 
 desert who would consider an egg too great a luxury." 
 
 " Alas, alas ! " said Cecilia, " my lot has been cast in 
 towns, and I must partake somewhat, I fear, of the 
 corruption of Eome." 
 
 " Speak to us of our dear Pontiff," resumed Valerian ; 
 " did you converse with him long ? Do you think his 
 health is good ? We who see him constantly cannot 
 judge as well." 
 
 " I noticed nothing," replied Origen ; " I knew only 
 that I was at the feet of God's representative, and felt 
 that a great grace and a great power were given to that 
 venerable man. With an overflowing love and an 
 inspired wisdom, he spoke to me of the churches of my 
 land, and of their several wants, and of his children of 
 Eome whom he seems to bear all in his heart ; calling 
 them, even as the Good Shepherd, each by his name.
 
 50 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Is it long since he lias been obliged to seek the Cata- 
 combs as a place of refuge ? for he spoke to me of a 
 church given by our good Emperor to Pope Calixtus, 
 which the Christians made use of until lately." 
 
 "Yes, that was the Taherna meritoria,^ which was 
 given to us. We were able to congregate there, and when 
 the popinarii (wine vendors) grumbled and asked to take 
 it back from us, the Emperor said: 'I prefer God being 
 honoured in this place, no matter how, rather than give 
 it back to wine vendors '. It was a noble answer, but 
 alas ! times are strangely altered since our good Emperor 
 is gone to the wars." 
 
 " You all speak," observed Origen, " as if a persecution 
 were at hand ; even that sweet child I met with you 
 this morning, lady, talked of martyrdom. May I not 
 see her again ? I thought she lived with you." 
 
 " Cecilia has a private little assembly of young maidens 
 within our walls," explained her husband, "but she 
 guards them with jealous care." 
 
 " We so often have pagan visitors, that I must needs 
 watch over my sweet lambs, lest the ravishing wolf 
 come among them, and take what the Good Shepherd 
 has marked for His own ; but I shall send for them." 
 
 She beckoned to a slave, and in a few seconds, a 
 troop of young girls came in, varying in age from five 
 years old to eighteen; all were dressed simply; there 
 was beauty on many of those young faces, and, on all, 
 a modesty and sweetness of expression which bespoke 
 
 * Now the church of Sta. Maria in Trastevere.
 
 Flora : tJie Roman Martyr, 51 
 
 an inward purity of heart, and the blessedness attendant 
 thereon. 
 
 " AVhere is my little friend of this morning," inquired 
 Origen, " where is Agatha ? " 
 
 " Here 1 " cried the child, with ingenuous simplicity, as 
 leaving her companions, she ran to the stranger and 
 kissed his hand : " Do you know," she said, looking at 
 him with an earnest, inquiring expression, " you remind 
 me of St. Peter ? I saw him last night," she continued 
 musing, with a pretty little air of seriousness. 
 
 " You, puella, where ? " 
 
 " In my sleep. I had fallen down yesterday and hurt 
 myself very much : I prayed to St. Peter before going 
 to bed, and he came to me and cured me ; he put a sweet 
 unguent on my arms, the perfume is on them still." 
 
 " God bless thee," said the stranger, and put his hand 
 on her head. " May the vision come to pass, and in all 
 thy troubles and sorrows, may the Apostle watch over 
 thee and keep thee from evil ; may his guardian hand 
 heal all thy wounds." 
 
 Those words proved a prophecy to be fulfilled in after 
 years. 
 
 The young girls gathered round Cecilia, but Agatha, 
 with the satisfaction so natural to a child that is noticed, 
 continued prattling to the visitor. 
 
 "It was so nice," she observed, "the perfume the 
 Apostle left on me, it was like the sweet smell that 
 comes from Cecilia's hair ; have you perceived that ? " 
 she asked in a whisper. 
 
 "No," he replied, amused, and in the same confi- 
 
 UivivcHSlTy OF 
 ILLINOI.S LIBRARy
 
 52 Flora .- the Roman Martyr, 
 
 dential tone, " she surely is not vain enough to take 
 great care of her hair." 
 
 " Oh no ! but do not tell, and you shall know what I 
 see; every morning, when she calls us round her to 
 teach us our prayers, there comes an Angel near her and 
 puts on her head a crown of lilies and roses ; she always 
 wears one, but no one can see it, only we little ones, 
 Lucia, Ptufina, Secunda, and I ; the elder ones only smell 
 the perfume, but they don't know what it comes from." 
 
 " Hush, puella, I think thou hadst better not speak of 
 this." 
 
 " Only to you, and you'll not tell." 
 
 " No ! I shall not, but go to your companions now." 
 
 She obeyed, and slipped into a seat by Cecilia's 
 side. 
 
 " What say you to our juvenile circle ? " asked 
 Valerian of his guest. 
 
 " Oh, it is a blessed sight ! I am only surprised how 
 you have influence enough over their parents to get 
 them to trust you with their children." 
 
 " I attract them under different pretexts," explained 
 Cecilia, " sometimes to teach them a pretty embroidery, 
 sometimes that they may sing with me ; they come to 
 me a few hours each day, and thus we learn and pray 
 together, and help each other upwards." 
 
 All the young faces turned towards her as she spoke, 
 and their glistening eyes and beaming smiles told how 
 they loved her. 
 
 The conversation glided on to other things. Origen, 
 for the amusement of the young people, told them tales
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 53 
 
 of other lauds, but nothing pleased them so much as 
 the life of the Fathers in the desert. They all peti- 
 tioned their kind teacher to allow them to make mats 
 as the hermits did. He then told them there were 
 holy virgins who served God without retiring to the 
 desert. He spoke of one Dorothy of Csesarea in Cap- 
 padocia, who had vowed to Christ her love and her 
 life ; he went on to say how, brought before the Prefect 
 Apricius, she had been ordered to sacrifice to false gods, 
 and then given in charge to two Pagan sisters, Christa 
 and Callista, whose influence it was thought would 
 move her from her high intent. But just the reverse 
 took place ; her firmness and virtue opened their eyes, 
 they embraced the true faith, and after confessing 
 Christ in the midst of torments, died all together lor 
 the glory of His name. 
 
 A burst of applause broke from Origen's hearers ; 
 they begged of him to tell more. 
 
 The heavy viands had by this time been removed 
 from the table, and fruit disposed in fanciful baskets 
 took their place, together with pastry and confectionery, 
 shaped so as to mimic architectural designs. There 
 were pyramids and obelisks and temples without end 
 and fountains of spun sugar with silver spray. Wine 
 was handed to the men, but refused at the table, 
 according to Cecilia's custom. 
 
 " Is there no chorus to-day," asked her husband, 
 " to finish the repast as is our wont ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied, taking her lyre from the hand of 
 a slave. " Martina has a pretty song, neither too
 
 54 Flora : the Roman Marty7\ 
 
 profane for the company, nor yet so sacred that it may 
 not grace a feast." 
 
 She struck a few chords, and chiming in with the 
 eldest of her pupils who stood by her side, they sang 
 together on the pleasures of friendship and the sorrows 
 of separation, but Cecilia's voice rose high above that 
 of her young friend. Now joyfully cadenced like the 
 fluttering of a little bird, now deeply toned like a 
 recitative, now still and hushed, then bursting forth in 
 a long, deep wail, warbling melancholy notes like the 
 mourning nightingale, slower and slower it sounded, 
 then was only heard at long intervals, and at last 
 expired, while the hearers still listened anxiously for 
 the melodious accents that yet floated on the air. 
 
 Origen was the first to break the silence. " I heard 
 that voice already," he exclaimed, " in that very field 
 where you met me this morning ; I found out a lunii- 
 nare, and from it I heard quite plainly the hymn that 
 was being sung in the Catacombs." 
 
 " That is a fearful risk," observed Valerian ; " we 
 must tell the fossores to repair that opening. And now, 
 let us go and take a walk in the garden. Tiburtius, 
 will you show the way to our guest." 
 
 The girls gathered round Cecilia, offered up a prayer 
 with her, then followed into the small hortus attached 
 to the house. 
 
 " We were speaking of your singing," said Valerian, 
 as she joined him, " and I was telling our friend how 
 its accents first awoke in my heart those feelings 
 which "
 
 Flora : the Roman Ma7'tyr. 55 
 
 '* Brother ! " she interrupted, checking what she feared 
 was praise, and calling him by the name she always 
 used towards him when they were alone. 
 
 " Nay 1 " said Valerian reverently, " it is good some- 
 times to tell the secret of God, you know, and Origen 
 has just asked me how it was Tiburtius and I became 
 Christians. I had long courted the daughter of the 
 Cecilii, and, the more reserved was her demeanour, the 
 more grew towards her my then earthly love. I won 
 her at last, and the nuptial procession brought her to 
 this threshold ; out of respect for her religion, for I 
 knew her parents had brought her up a Christian, she 
 was not raised over the threshold of her new home, but 
 entered freely, and sat on the woolsack, and accepted 
 the keys and the distaff, emblem of her domestic 
 dominion. When I drew near to claim her, she firmly 
 uttered the words which custom has rendered so full 
 of meaning, Ubi tu Cains ego Caia. I welcomed her, as 
 the descendant of Caia Tanaquil, who was to bring glory 
 to this house, but, ah ! far beyond what I deemed. 
 When all those who belonged to her had withdrawn, 
 I sought her, and found her kneeling in her cuhiculum, 
 her hands stretched out in prayer, and her head still 
 covered with the Jlamineum (nuptial veil). I stood by 
 her side, and she rose and spoke ; the words of that 
 hour my heart has repeated each day, and I cannot 
 forget them now. ' Valerian,' she said, ' I am in the 
 care of an Angel who watches over my virginity, there- 
 fore, I cannot be thine, lest thou draw on thy head the 
 vengeance and anger of God.' Overpowered by the
 
 56 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 majesty and power of lier words, I asked her if I might 
 be made worthy to see her Angel. She explained to 
 me the doctrines whose beauty had formed her study 
 since childhood. I was seized with a mighty thirst for 
 the living waters, and having learned from her that 
 Urban dwelt among the sepulchres of the martyrs, I 
 sought him and was baptized. I returned to my 
 spouse and found her praying still, as I had left her, 
 but no longer alone. An Angel was at her side, he 
 covered her with his wings, and a fiery sword was in 
 his hand, to punish with the vengeance of God all 
 such as should lay claim to her. I knelt before the 
 Heavenly Messenger, and was dazzled with his bright- 
 ness. He extended his hand to me, and placed on my 
 brow a crown of roses and lilies, and I could see that 
 Cecilia wore the same, and I asked her wherefore, and 
 she answered, 'The lilies are the emblem of the virginity 
 I have chosen ; the roses foretell the blood we are called 
 upon to shed for the faith ; art thou ready?' I answered 
 I was, and she placed on my lips a prayer which shall 
 be my last ere I am called to the dread combat : ' Fiat 
 cor mewin et corpus meum immaculahom ut non con- 
 fundar '." 
 
 He ceased speaking, and Tiburtius resumed : — 
 " I entered the room w^here my brother and sister-in- 
 law had spent so long a time as to alarm the household ; 
 they were both kneeling in prayer, and a perfume of 
 unutterable fragrance filled the cuUculum. I looked 
 for the flowers which emitted the odour, but they were 
 hidden from my view ; they told me an Angel was
 
 Flora : the Ro7ita7i Marty 7\ 57 
 
 present, but he too was invisible to me. Cecilia spoke 
 to me as she had done to my brother, and my conver- 
 sion was prompter even than his. I too sought the 
 Pontiff, became a Christian, and, at my return, the 
 Angel placed on my head the martyr's croAvn, and now, 
 in their dear company, I await the fulfilment of the 
 promises of Christ." 
 
 " Happy young men ! " exclaimed the philosopher, 
 taking a hand of each and pressing them affectionately. 
 '' Happy that your path is already marked out for you, 
 that your course will be rapidly run, and that the 
 reward is almost within yourhands, — happier far than I!" 
 
 Cecilia saw the cloud of anxiety overspread her 
 guest's features, and, with a view to divert his mind, 
 *' Let us to merrier subjects," she said to her husband ; 
 " our guest is unacquainted with the details of a Roman 
 house, and will perhaps see with pleasure our Pina- 
 coteca " (kind of repository for works of art), and she 
 led the way, telling the children to play in the garden, 
 while Martina, the eldest, followed her. This girl was 
 about eighteen, and of a noble birth that stamped her 
 features with dignity, softened down by Christian meek- 
 ness. Her fringed eye-lashes veiled eyes whose expres- 
 sion was of sweet languor, revealing a character unfit 
 for the world's strife, had not its latent energies been 
 called up by a potent stimulus ; her face had all the 
 roundness and colour of blooming youth and health, 
 her hair, too long to be confined by the fillet, encircled 
 her head, and was brought back over her forehead, 
 braided in a knot. She was an orphan, and, having
 
 58 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 lost her parents at an early age, employed the wealth 
 she had inherited from them in relieving the poor. 
 Prayer and good works filled up the life of the young 
 virgin, who often came to seek by Cecilia's side the 
 strengthening influence of a superior mind, and the 
 sweet solace of friendship. 
 
 " I fear," she said, stepping quickly after them into 
 the Pinacoteca, " that the new vase, which the slaves 
 laid on the ground while waiting for the pedestal, may 
 be upset ; it is covered up." 
 
 " Thank you, Martina, you are always careful." 
 
 They unveiled together a vase in terra cotta fresh 
 from the Etruscan fabric, which stood in the middle of 
 the floor; Valerian admired the execution of the design, 
 while Origen went round examining the pictures and 
 objects of art which filled the rich museum. 
 
 " You look surprised," observed his host, " and you 
 perhaps wonder that we do not better carry out the 
 precepts of evangelical poverty, but we are obliged to 
 conceal our religion under a show of splendour, and 
 these manufactures, besides, employ Christian labourers, 
 and are a harvest for the needy ; in days of want we 
 give them to the poor to sell for their profit." 
 
 " I am quite sure, my friends, that all you do is from 
 an exalted motive. This dish !" he exclaimed, touching 
 a silver vessel,* slightly hollow, and having a rim 
 
 * The ej0&gy of St. Martina, in the church dedicated to her 
 near the Mamertine prison, where her body was found, repre- 
 sents her with her head lying on a dish answering to this de- 
 scription.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 59 
 
 studded with precious stones, " how singular ! it is so 
 like " 
 
 " Like what ? " asked Cecilia, who heard the inco- 
 herent observations. " It belongs to Martina, and she 
 has entrusted it to me." 
 
 " It is like," he resumed, " one we preserve in Jeru- 
 salem, which tradition venerates as having been that 
 in which the head of John the Baptist was placed after 
 its decollation." 
 
 They passed on, but Martina remained transfixed to 
 the spot; a gleam of ineffable joy lit up her usually 
 calm countenance; her eyes were fixed on the dish, and 
 what she saw there she never revealed to mortal ear. 
 Presently, however, she returned to Cecilia's side, and 
 held her back, as they were passing to another room. 
 
 "Eeturn that dish to me," she said. 
 
 " Willingly ! but what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Do not speak of it ; but that man's words have 
 moved me strangely. I have often prayed that a 
 prompt death might be mine, that the agonies of torture 
 might be spared me, for my weakness is so great, and I 
 fear temptation. If my prayer be heard, if I am 
 allowed the prompt death of decollation, let my head 
 lie there. I shall take the vessel, and pray before it 
 daily, that my last hour may be constantly uppermost 
 in my mind. Thus will I strengthen myself against 
 that martyrdom which I feel will be my lot, unworthy 
 though I be to bear off the glorious palm." 
 
 Cecilia took her young friend's hands within her own, 
 and spoke to her soothingly, she kissed her flushed
 
 6o Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 cheeks, and urged her to be tranquil. She succeeded 
 in calming her, and they went on to the hiUioteca 
 where Valerian and Tiburtius were engaged in display- 
 ing to the learned Origen the fruits of many researches, 
 and the collection of many years. He was deeply 
 interested, for there were manuscripts he had longed for, 
 and copies of works he had believed to be extinct. 
 Pleased at his attention, Tiburtius had undertaken to 
 pull down the rolls of parchment, while Valerian 
 explained them by degrees ; while so doing, the younger 
 brother happened to put his hand on the wall, and sud- 
 denly exclaimed, " What an extraordinary heat ! there is 
 a fire here ! . . . brother, . . Cecilia, call the slaves, 
 quick ! help ! " And the young man rushed out of the 
 room ; but Cecilia went at once to the baths which were 
 separated from the hiUioteca only by a wall. She per- 
 ceived that a great fire had been lit in the hy^pocaustum, 
 a double vault below that of the sudationes, or vapour 
 bath ; hence arose an intolerable heat, and steam issued 
 from the pipes in thick, wreathed columns of smoke. 
 Slaves came now hurrying in, and large water-vessels 
 being poured on the fire below, it was soon put out. 
 What, it was inquired, had caused the accident ? One 
 of the slaves came forward, and sorrowfully yet fear- 
 lessly, as one who speaks the truth and knows he will 
 be heard, explained that he had been desired to prepare 
 the bath, and, supposing the wood to be wet, had heaped 
 more of it than was requisite on the fire, and then 
 neglected to watch it. A mild, firm rebuke was his 
 only punishment, and his mistress bade him return to
 
 Flora : the Romari Alartyr. 6i 
 
 the hypocaustum, for the embers were still smouldering. 
 As he did so, and all followed him to see there was no 
 more to fear, Cecilia remained alone, wishing to examine 
 whether the mosaic or tiles were injured ; while stoop- 
 ing over them, she felt a sudden giddiness seize her, the 
 blood had rushed to her temples, and she fell fainting 
 on the floor. A few minutes after, her friend Martina 
 missing her, went back, and found her stretched on the 
 pavement. Alarmed and anxious, she sprinkled some of 
 the cold water which had remained there on the 
 sufferer. Cecilia opened her eyes, and, recognising her : 
 "Help me to get up," she said, " and do not call any one ". 
 
 " You fainted from the excess of heat." 
 
 " I do not think it was that," she said, rising with an 
 effort. 
 
 " What then, Cecilia ? " 
 
 " Do you see those three children ? " she said, pointing 
 to a fresco which represented the Hebrew youths in the 
 furnace. When I was a timid girl. Urban told me to 
 remember them and not to fear ; thankful for the courage 
 with which their example inspired me, I had them 
 painted there. Just now, as I stood alone, I thought 
 .they fixed their eyes on me strangely, steam was issu- 
 ing from the pipes, and a vision arose before me, and a 
 voice seemed to whisper in my ear that I too should be 
 cast into a furnace, and a dire fear overcame me. Oh, 
 Martina, I am willing, the Lord knows it, but the poor 
 frame sinks under the thought of combat. Take me 
 away, and pray that I may be worthy to meet the fate 
 that awaits me."
 
 62 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 The young girl wiped her friend's forehead, which 
 was clammy and cold in the midst of that heat, and 
 the two brave hearts bore up together, and each forbade 
 the other to despond. 
 
 They went out to the garden, that Cecilia might 
 breathe the fresh air ; the children were still there, and 
 their innocent caresses made her smile again. Soon 
 she heard the voice of her husband enquiring after her, 
 and went to meet him. 
 
 " You look pale," he said ; " perhaps you are too tired 
 to see another visitor, Lucullus, one of my earliest 
 friends." 
 
 " I pray you, brother, to excuse me, I am not well !" 
 
 " He invites us to a feast he gives on his natal day 
 in his gardens at Tusculum ; a refusal would pain him, 
 may I accept for you ? " 
 
 " Whatever Valerian chooses for me will give me 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Thanks, dearest Cecilia. Take care of her, Martina," 
 and he withdrew.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE gardens of LucuUus were situated at Tusculum, 
 Dear the Villa of Cicero. Thus the epicure and the 
 philosopher had chosen the same retreat, but the sage 
 had placed his classical home on a hill, whence he could 
 look down on the haunts of men, gaze from afar at the 
 scene of his triumphs, and dream of distant Rome, whose 
 murmuring applause seemed to lie hushed at his feet. 
 It is strange how solitude becomes a craving want in 
 those who have lived for fame ; for falsehood and fleet- 
 ing glory are not the meed of man ; much as the heart 
 pines for fame, it will tire of the sickening draught and 
 turn for refreshment to the well-springs of truth, which 
 are seldom in a noble nature deviated from their course, 
 and are ever ready to gush forth anew at the secret 
 touch of sorrow or disappointment. 
 
 The horti of Lucullus occupied the slope of the same 
 hill lower down ; the gateway formed the arch of a por- 
 tico whose double row of columns supported a vaulted 
 roof, thus affording a pleasant retreat from the noonday 
 sun. Niches in the wall sheltered statues whose beauty 
 was even then renowned, and whose mutilated remains 
 call forth to this day the admiration of visitors to the 
 Vatican gallery. The portico, extending on four sides,
 
 64 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 formed a complete hollow square, in the centre of 
 which rose a white marble temple, bearing on the 
 frontispiece the title Amicitice. That edifice enclosed a 
 statue of immense beauty, conveyed from Corinth by 
 Lucullus, when, returning from the Persian wars, the 
 conqueror of Mithridates and Tigranes brought count- 
 less treasures to Rome, the fruit of his victorious expe- 
 ditions. So great indeed was the luxury introduced by 
 him into Roman customs that Pompey used to call him 
 the Xerxes togatus. 
 
 An open arch, corresponding to the gateway, led 
 into the flower-garden where the amhulationes or foot- 
 paths were distinguished by green arches cut out of 
 box, while the wider paths called gestationes were 
 covered with shady trellis work, and disposed for such 
 as disliked walking and were carried in chairs by their 
 slaves. Everywhere, the sand of variegated hue, yellow, 
 grey, or red, which latter was made of pounded bricks, 
 and blue, of crumbled slate, was so disposed as to form 
 mosaic patterns, which were as often renewed as the 
 foot of the passer-by spoiled them. Here towered the 
 tall plants bearing flowers with which the guests were 
 wont to crown their heads at feasts, and there crept the 
 smaller highly-scented herbs used in perfumery. There 
 was the Chaiii£e-melon, the rose, the Milesia of twelve 
 leaves, the (Irsecula, the Spineola, the Mosceuton, with 
 olive-shaped petals, the Prenestina, which survives frosts ; 
 there was a glass hot-house for the tender nurslings. 
 The strong perfume of orange-blossoms attracted the 
 visitor towards one sheltered spot where he soon found
 
 Flo7'a : the Roman Alartyr. 65 
 
 himself involved in a mimic labyrinth of no inconsider- 
 able extent ; many gardeners had the exclusive care of 
 this grove, which was the principal ornament of the 
 grounds, for oranges clustered in abundance on the 
 branches, and only dropped off when the highly-scented 
 blossoms filled the neighbourhood with their fragrance, 
 and announced the return of spring. Whoever had the 
 patience to wind his way through the intricate paths, 
 found in the centre a pleasant fountain, the sui-face of 
 which rose and fell with the numerous siphunculi which 
 poured their tribute at intervals into its basin, now cross- 
 ing each other, now shooting upwards, now describing 
 graceful curves. A secret spring, too, w^ould dash the 
 water into the face of an incautious looker-on ; and if 
 he endeavoured to escape the bath, he trod on other 
 concealed pipes, which also turned against him. Eound 
 the entire flower-garden ran a pergola, thickly covered 
 with vines, forming a verdant verandah of about the 
 same extent as the marble colonnade already mentioned. 
 A cavity, hollowed out of a rock, led, by a secret pas- 
 sage, to the Nymjphceum, where art seemed to be com- 
 bined with the most refined luxury. It was divided 
 into two semi-circular grottoes, leaving between them 
 an open space, where a monument of white marble 
 rested on the shoulders of huge Egyptian figures ; each 
 of these held before it a vase of granite, from which 
 grew laurel trees, whose leafy branches served to bring 
 out in relief the figures of the nine Muses, placed 
 above all. These bore their characteristic attributes save 
 that, to harmonize with the nature of the NyinplKEum,
 
 66 Flora : the Roman Ma^rtyr. 
 
 the tihia of Euterpe, the globe of Urania, the scroll of 
 Clio, and all the other instruments were so many foun- 
 tains, spouting water into a porphyry reservoir below. 
 At the secret touch of a hydraulic machine, the water 
 ceased to flow, the streamlets turned in another direc- 
 tion, and set in motion a musical instrument. Of the 
 grottoes, one was paved in mosaics, representing the 
 four seasons, round which ran a border of a coarser 
 kind, recording in black and white stones the adven- 
 tures of Ul3^sses ; the walls were covered with marble, 
 encrusted with lapis lazuli ; all around, niches of ala- 
 baster contained the statues of nymphs, the tutelar 
 divinities of the place, and the architecture was as 
 choice as that of a temple. A dome crowned the 
 whole, admitting the light through a small circular 
 aperture ; a rich mosaic ceiling on a gold ground looked 
 brilliant, even in that subdued light, and cast refulgent 
 rays on a group of Galatea placed in the centre, reclin- 
 ing on crystal waves, and surrounded with Tritons. 
 The other grotto was of a more rustic kind ; shells of 
 various colour and shape lined the sides, among them 
 being inserted branches of coral. The pavement was 
 of coloured pebbles ; sea-weed grew in an artificial 
 aquarium ; old Ocean occupied a majestic position, his 
 arm resting on a reversed urn, while fish, carved in 
 variegated marbles, and open oysters filled with pearls, 
 bore witness to the careless opulence of the master of 
 this enchanting retreat. There seemed to be no outlet 
 to this part of the Nym^plioeum, and a stranger might 
 seek for one in vain ; but to the initiated, a bronze statue
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 6 J 
 
 of Harpocrates lowered its finger, a piece of mechanism 
 being contrived for that purpose in the pedestal he 
 stood on. A key he held in his hand was then visible, 
 and a serpent, coiled up against the wall behind him, 
 slowly untwined itself, thereby displaying the lock of a 
 door leading up a stair-case, that gave out on a wide- 
 spreading, verdant piece of ground, elevated above the 
 rest of the gardens, and commanding a pleasant view. 
 Here was an amphitheatre, which was generally con- 
 sidered almost indispensable in a luxurious country- 
 house ; beyond, another building of smaller proportions 
 served for the recitals of poets and for dramatic perfor- 
 mances ; beyond this again stretched a wood to a con- 
 siderable distance, through which several paths led to 
 the temple of Latial Jove, which could be seen on the 
 summit of the hill bearing that name. 
 
 Slaves were hurrying to and fro over the grounds on 
 the day appointed for the banquet which the master of 
 the house gave in honour of his birth-day. The dinner 
 was to be laid in the Nymphceum, ~X\iQ heat of the 
 weather rendering that resort most enviably cool. By 
 a refinement of taste, the dining table was made to 
 represent a boat ; a mast-head rose in the centre, orna- 
 mented with a sail of purple and white silk worked in 
 gold ; a gilt poop and prow figured at the head and 
 foot, and the slaves who were to wait at table were all 
 dressed as sailors ; even the musicians who, as was 
 customary in great entertainments, filled up the inter- 
 vals between each course, bore silver oars on which 
 they gracefully rested. Those who were charged with
 
 68 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 
 
 the preparations of the feast had passed many a sleep- 
 less night for weeks, and the fantastic devices, the 
 choice fish fattened for the occasion, the new inventions 
 both in the culinary and decorative arts, had occupied 
 the household more deeply than news of the wars or an 
 Imperial triumph. Lucullus was a kind master, good 
 living being supposed to encourage good humour, and, 
 although his fame was far removed from that of his 
 forefather in the days of Augustus, yet he held to the 
 pleasures of the table, as much from natural inclination 
 as out of what he termed respect to his family name. 
 On this eventful morning, he was not above taking a 
 turn through his vast kitchen, where a goodly array of 
 slaves were employed in cooking, dressing, pounding, 
 chopping, making such a noise that he could not hear 
 his own voice, wdiereupon he passed to the bath-room 
 to prepare for his visitors. These came very early ; 
 hardly indeed had the voluptuous Eoman freed himself 
 from his anointing slaves, than he found himself sur- 
 rounded by his most intimate friends, who wished to be 
 the first in offering their congratulations for his natal 
 day. 
 
 " The gods return you your good wishes a hundred- 
 fold, my dear friends," he said. " And you too. Valerian, 
 have come thus early ? ah, this is kind. I hope the 
 noble Cecilia will deign to grace our feast ? " 
 
 " My bride is of retired habits, and seldom quits our 
 home, but I spoke of you as a friend of my youth whose 
 courteous invitation I wished her to accept ; I ventured, 
 besides, to assure her" — this he whispered with an inquir-
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 69 
 
 ing smile — " that since you have become a married man 
 you do not allow any excess at your table that might be 
 offensive to a Eoman matron." 
 
 " Truly, friend Valerian," replied the other laughing, 
 " I too have a model wife who may well consort with 
 yours. But this stranger, is he your guest ? you men- 
 tioned his name to me the other day." 
 
 " Yes, I present to you Origen, an African philosopher 
 who loves Eome for herself, and still more for her sons 
 whom he honours." 
 
 " As 1 doubt not the friends of my noble guests are 
 their equals in worth," said Origen courteously, " I have 
 come too, Lucullus, to mingle in the ranks of your well- 
 wishers." 
 
 '•' Friend of my friend, I salute you," replied the host, 
 taking his proffered hand. He then invited them to 
 proceed to the gardens, where he thought they should 
 find more visitors awaiting his welcome. 
 
 " Yes," observed Valerian, " on our way hither I saw 
 some ladies assembled in the flower-garden, and I left 
 my wife among them." 
 
 They went towards the labyrinth, and on their way 
 thither were joined by several acquaintances, who were 
 profuse in greetings to Lucullus and compliments on the 
 extreme beauty of his villa. 
 
 " It is embellished by the sunshine of your presence, 
 my friends. Noble Florentius, we greet you." 
 
 " Are you seeking the lady Pudicitia, Lucullus ? She 
 is there, and my wife too." 
 
 The mistress of the house was doinc; the honours of
 
 70 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 
 
 the garden to her lady friends, but, as her lord drew 
 near, she was the first to meet his glance and they 
 advanced to meet him. She was richly dressed, as 
 became her rank, but she wore her ornaments more 
 in obedience to custom and her husband's wishes than 
 with a view to vanity. A snow-white garment fell round 
 her in long folds, and the cameos which fastened it bore 
 no idolatrous image. Her hair, drawn back, left un- 
 covered a low, child-like forehead, whose very repose 
 betokened a happy, confiding spirit ; the features were 
 regular, but not striking, a pleasant smile lighting them 
 up when she spoke, and the simplicity of her manners 
 formed her principal charm. The contrast was great 
 between her and her stout, good-humoured Epicurean- 
 like husband, yet it was easy to see how he prized her^ 
 and how her sweetness subdued him. 
 
 " You will not be displeased, LucuUus," she said ; " I 
 sent a message to my friend Siona to bring her little 
 child with her, for she never will lose sight of it, and 
 she would have staid at home, had I not urged her." 
 
 " Quite right ; I hope I shall see the little stranger 
 later. Is it a boy ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Siona, " my little girl is called Flora, after 
 her father ; she is only two months old." 
 
 " Eather too young to grace our banquet, at which we 
 shall expect you soon, ladies." 
 
 Shortly after, a burst of joyful music gave the 
 announcement that the feast had opened in the Nym- 
 'phcBum, and the guests took their places, the men reclin- 
 ing, the women sitting round the table. The device of
 
 Flora : ihe^ Roman Martyr. ji 
 
 the ship excited such universal admiration, that hardly 
 any one could partake of the antepastum or fore meal, 
 consisting of eggs, fish, pickled fruits and small delicate 
 fish, preserved in salt to excite the thirst and the 
 appetite. During this time slaves went round, bearing 
 baskets of wreathed flowers with which the guests 
 crowned their heads : of these, some were supposed to 
 prevent the effects of wine, others to avert malefices, 
 others again were used as a homage to the gods. The 
 mistress of the house was a Christian, in secret, and 
 had provided wreaths of lilies, a flower not generally 
 used on such occasions, but she had done so to preserve 
 her brethren in faith from the very semblance of idol- 
 atry ; the flowers, emblematical of innocence, formed a 
 fit ornament for those brows, many of which were 
 destined to fall, guiltless, under the lictor's axe. Again 
 the slaves passed round, bearing silver ewers whence 
 they poured perfumed water on the hands of the guests, 
 and then the dinner began in earnest. There were 
 pheasants, which, although cooked, bore their feathers 
 so ingeniously stuck into an exterior coating of paste, as 
 to appear alive ; ranged on a huge silver dish with their 
 brood around them, they seemed to have been settled by 
 the hand of an artist, rather than that of a cook. There 
 were peacocks, with their beautiful tails preserved by 
 the same method ; there were birds of every country, 
 and other animals, more remarkable for their exotic 
 rarity than for their flavour. The richness of the dinner 
 service too was proportioned to the reputation of the 
 giver of the feast. Glasses of rock crystal were served
 
 72 Flora : the Rornan Martyr. 
 
 to the guests, many of them in such curious shapes as to 
 tantalize the thirsty ; some were double, so that the 
 wished-for liquor could not moisten the lips that 
 approached it; others were in the-shape of a syphon, 
 others open at both ends, so that it required much 
 dexterity to use them at all, and the trial caused great 
 laughter among the lookers on. Again, the good Talernian 
 wine was contained in dragons' heads, and had to be 
 sucked through the animal's ears and snout, another 
 occasion of merriment. The plates and dishes were for 
 the most part of chiselled silver, and Etruscan work- 
 manship. The first course being over, an entertainment 
 of a different nature interrupted the pleasures of the 
 table; musical echoes resounded through the Nijm- 
 fhmim, and a troop of dancers disguised as sea 
 divinities, and water nymphs, flitted lightly over the 
 mosaic pavement, and executed divers dances; they then 
 disappeared in the recesses of the grotto. 
 
 " Valerian, I hope the feast meets with your approba- 
 tion," observed the master of the house to his principal 
 guest. 
 
 " It were vain indeed to praise the feasts of LucuUus, 
 but I do admire the dignity with which the entertain- 
 ment is conducted ; that dance was artistic and refined." 
 
 Meanwhile, Origen had got into conversation with 
 Florentius, who, piquing himself on being a philosopher, 
 was charmed to find a kindred spirit in the African 
 who had called on him the day after his arrival in 
 Eome with letters he brought from the East. The 
 Roman patrician was endeavouring to explain to his
 
 Flora : the Roman Marty 7^. 73 
 
 learned opponent that he held a system differing from 
 that of the senate with regard to the gods. 
 
 " The first things that existed," he said, " were Foun- 
 dation and Depth, to these were added Silent Thought, 
 for all must exist in pairs. They engendered IV0O9 and 
 A\r)Tdeia, which are Spirit and Truth. These first 
 couples formed a tetrad or square, which is the root of 
 all the system. These superior gods are ^ones, for they 
 represent lives and centuries. From Nous and Aletheia 
 came Logos and Zoe, which are the Word and Life." 
 
 " And these," continued Origen, " gave birth in their 
 turn to about ten others — He who grows not old and 
 Union, Depth and Mingling." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Florentius with delight, " have 
 you too studied in this school ?" 
 
 "The Gnostics who teach this doctrine are at Antioch, 
 where I dwell. In my search after truth, I have gone 
 to many a source." 
 
 " But you have not found it ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " Pardon me if I disbelieve you. Everything on 
 earth is doubtful, hazardous, probable rather than true. 
 Men, weary with seeking truth, rest in one opinion 
 rather than another, that is all. Certain ignorant men, 
 perfectly devoid of the knowledge of human letters, 
 have dared to decide on the divine nature, which so 
 many philosophers have been disputing about for cen- 
 turies, and with reason, for we know neither what is 
 above nor what is below us, and happy should we be 
 -could we know ourselves. If it be true that, in the be-
 
 74 J^lora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 ginning, the germs of all things were concentrated in 
 nature, what has that to do with God ? If the different 
 parts were joined together by a congregation of atoms, 
 fire lit the stars, the earth grew firm under our feet of 
 itself. It being impossible to believe anything true, we 
 must let each nation keep to her traditions; therefore, 
 Eleusis has a Ceres, Phrygia owns Cybele, Epidaurus 
 honours ^sculapius, and Eome, which adores the mall 
 at once, has received the empire of the world in reward 
 for her piety." 
 
 This concludinsf remark was uttered with an ironical 
 smile, but a burst of applause from the guests drew the 
 speakers' attention to what was passing at the table. 
 An extraordinary masterpiece of the culinary art was 
 brought in in triumph, escorted by slaves gaily dressed. 
 A wild boar, roasted on one side, and boiled on the 
 other, afforded a puzzle which no one could solve. The 
 animal was perfectly whole, and yet, when a slit was 
 made with the knife, a number of little live birds flew 
 out, to the delight of the guests, and fluttered over their 
 heads. Besides the feathered tribe, the boar was stuffed 
 with sausages, puddings, roast fowls, and other cured 
 and minced meats. This was verily a triumph, and the 
 question went round the table : " Had the two halves, 
 one roast, the other boiled, been cooked separately, then 
 united, and how had it been done?" Lucullus appealed 
 to the guests to know whether the cook did not deserve 
 to be sent for. All assented, and the happy man being 
 ushered in, was loudly applauded. He explained that 
 the boar roast and boiled was an invention of his own.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 75 
 
 He had covered one side with a thick paste which effec- 
 tually saved it from the action of the fire, and gave it, 
 when removed, a colourless look as if it had been boiled, 
 while the other part, on the contrary, was exposed to a 
 brisk fire ; the happy inventor was amply rewarded by 
 the satisfaction universally expressed. Considerable 
 time having been given to the discussion of this dish, 
 and all due honour paid to it, the dinner service was 
 entirely removed, the table remained quite bare, and 
 from the vault of the Nympliceum there descended a 
 wide-surfaced apparatus ; it was lowered gently, and to 
 the sound of music. It was so well calculated as to 
 fit the table exactly, being already prepared and laid 
 out with sweet dishes and confectionery. The centre 
 piece was the figure of a syren, sitting on a bed of coral, 
 apparently singing to enchant the seamen of a mimic 
 ship which floated in white wine in a silver trough dis- 
 posed around her in a spiral form ; little sugar figures 
 sat up, holding tiny oars, and a similar image was fas- 
 tened to the little mast. The guests immediately recog- 
 nised Ulysses resisting the allurements of Scylla. The 
 other dishes were also arranged with great taste and 
 skill, and small fountains threw up little jets of scented 
 water. Fruits of prodigious size, and flowers of great 
 beauty, varied the appearance of the dessert, and wine 
 began to circulate freely. 
 
 LucuUus, seeing that convivial gaiety was at its 
 height, turned once more to Valerian : " Will you pre- 
 sent a petition to the Lady Cecilia ? " he said ; " we know 
 her to be gifted with a voice as rare as it is beautiful ;
 
 76 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 may we request of her to grace this poor banquet, if not 
 for my sake, whose birthday feast she has deigned to 
 honour, at least for that of my wife with whom she is 
 linked in friendship ? " 
 
 Cecilia bowed assent to the prayer so courteously 
 presented, and made a sign to one of the musicians pre- 
 sent to bring her a lyre, but her manner was visibly 
 agitated, as if her mind were occupied with restless, 
 uneasy thoughts. A few words whispered to her by 
 Pudicitia made her grow more calm, and, as the latter 
 left the table, following her friend Siona who had risen 
 abruptly a few minutes before, she determined to sing, 
 as was her wont, when requested. She raised her eyes, 
 seeking for inspiration : " What a Sappho ! " exclaimed 
 riorentius to Origen, but the latter knew far better what 
 was the source of her genius, and the soul of her poetry. 
 She thought, and, borrowing the words of the swan of 
 Mantua, she sang like him the reign of peace and 
 plenty, the golden age of Augustus ; a graceful cadence 
 interrupted the rich, deep tones, and she told the praises 
 of their host, even as Virgil had praised the Lucullus of 
 his days. Again she spoke of Justice and of its glory, 
 then, in the accents of the Sibyl, prophesied of the Just 
 One who was to come. Her voice grew so solemn that 
 all present were hushed in expectation, then there 
 was silence for a few seconds, then again came a 
 few notes which seemed to drop one by one into the 
 listening ear of the Future. . . . Et pariet 
 Virgo. 
 
 It was no longer Cecilia that sang or impressed her
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr 77 
 
 audience, it was an Invisible Spirit speaking through 
 her voice ! and, as she rose to retire, no one thought of 
 retaining her, or even applauding her, so solemn and 
 Sibyl-like had been her strains. The men continued to 
 remain at table ; the ladies withdrew. Cecilia passed 
 on alone to Pudicitia's chamber, where she knew Siona 
 was awaiting her in great anxiety. 
 
 The young mother had not joined the banquet till it 
 was far advanced, being uneasy about her child, and, 
 when at table, a message from the nurse had summoned 
 her away. Cecilia now found her, bent, with clasped 
 hands and tearful eyes, over the frail little form that 
 lay on the bed before her, writhing in childish convul- 
 sions. Female slaves were around, practised in house- 
 hold cares from their youth, skilled in the arts that cure. 
 There was one aged woman who had attended on the 
 sick for years, and healed many : by her orders, the 
 child was bathed and chafed by turns, a decoction of 
 simples was being prepared to relieve its internal 
 sufferings, but the little face was distorted by pain, 
 the eyes were closing, the violets of death had tinged 
 the baby features. Cecilia saw it all, and, with a firm 
 though mournful voice : " Siona," she said, " it is your 
 duty to summon Florentius ". 
 
 The poor young woman understood she must give up 
 all hope, and uttered a wild shriek : " No ! " she cried, 
 " it must not be ; his little one, his idolised Flora, can- 
 not be torn from him thus. Oh gods, rather take me I " 
 and she sank on the floor, beating her forehead on 
 the marble pavement.
 
 yS Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 "Hush, Siona," exclaimed Cecilia, "do not blas- 
 pheme ; the pagan gods neither hear nor help us." 
 
 " What do you say ? " cried the hapless young woman, 
 as if aroused by a sudden recollection ; " that is what 
 Claudius said ! he told me to call on him when I should 
 be in sorrow, and he promised to help me. Claudius, 
 Claudius ! Summon him quickly," she cried to the slaves 
 around her ; " call him, he came with us this morning, 
 where is he ? " 
 
 The good slave had indeed followed his masters, 
 apparently in compliance with their kindness, for they 
 had wished him to take a holiday, but in reality, owing 
 to the Providence of God, he was at hand to fulfil his 
 promise to his mistress, and comfort her in her hour of 
 need. He knew of the child's illness, and was even 
 now watching and praying in an adjoining chamber, 
 imploring help and light from above. On hearing him- 
 self called, he came, and standing before his mistress as 
 he had done once before in a commanding attitude, he 
 raised his hand : " Lady Siona," he said, " your child is 
 dying, but, in the name of your forgotten God, my 
 Eternal Saviour, I bring you His Promise : let her be a 
 Christian, and she shall live ". 
 
 Siona covered her face with her hands ; she was calm 
 now, and without looking at the slave whom in this 
 moment she reverenced : " Save my child," she 
 exclaimed, " for I believe ! " 
 
 Claudius disappeared, and the anguish of expectation 
 fell over them all, for the breathings of the little one 
 seemed stifled. Cecilia took a cup, filled it with clear
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 79 
 
 water, and stood uncertain what to do. At that 
 moment the slave returned with one of the guests by 
 his side. It was Origen. 
 
 " Noble Cecilia," said Claudius in a low voice, " send 
 away all the attendants, for this stranger, who holds the 
 office of deacon in the Church, will administer the sacred 
 rite. And will you stand sponsor, promising for the little 
 one she will be faithful to the end ? " 
 
 Origen took the water, and turning to the young 
 mother who knelt by the bed in anguish: "Have 
 courage, daughter, for, behold, it is even now done to 
 thee according to thy faith ". 
 
 He breathed on the infant, and behold! its little 
 frame ceased to writhe ; he held the water over it, and 
 its eyes opened, and its childish gaze was peaceful ; he 
 saw the danpjer was no longer imminent, and turning to 
 Cecilia : " There is no necessity for abridging the usual 
 ceremonies," he said ; " will you allow the Christian 
 slave to stand sponsor with you, noble lady ? " 
 
 "He who has obtained this child's recovery by 
 prayer is far nobler before God than I am," answered 
 the descendant of the Metelli. She took the little child 
 from off the bed, and placed it in Siona's arms, but she 
 kept her hand gently on it. 
 
 "Dost thou renounce the devil, the world, and its 
 pomps ? " asked the deacon. 
 
 " Abrenuntio" was pronounced at the same time by 
 the patrician woman and the slave. 
 
 " Dost thou promise to believe in Jesus Christ ? " 
 
 " Credo!' repeated the sponsors.
 
 8o Flora : tJie Rojnan Martyr. 
 
 " Dost thou wish to be baptized ? " 
 
 " Volo ! " and the two voices blended again in the 
 solemn protestation. 
 
 " Puella, Flora, ego te haptizo, in nomine Patris, et 
 Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." 
 
 The mystic rite was accomplished, a new Christian 
 added to the Church, the Guardian Angel of that little 
 child clothed it in a robe, which it was to bear spotless, 
 till it went to wash it in the blood of the Immaculate 
 Lamb. The little one uttered a childish cry when the 
 water touched it, then, exhausted by previous pain, it 
 fell asleep immediately. Cecilia kissed it with unutter- 
 able gratitude : " Siona," she said, " let us magnify the 
 Lord, for He has done great things for thee this day ". 
 
 The young mother had passed so rapidly from grief to 
 joy, that she was overpowered for some time, and could 
 not speak, till a torrent of tears came to her relief ; the 
 first words she could utter were : " Let the water which 
 has saved my child be poured upon me too ". 
 
 " Dost thou speak from impulse or from conviction ? " 
 asked Origen. 
 
 " From my heart ! from my heart ! " she replied. And, 
 placing the child again on the bed, she knelt down by 
 the side of it. •' I believe from my heart in the God of 
 my Fathers, and in the Messiah Who has long ago 
 visited His people. I truly repent of my idolatry, and 
 I promise, calling to witness the God of Moses and the 
 Christ of Claudius, that I will be faithful unto death, 
 professing Christianity with my child." 
 
 " God hears thee, daughter, and will grant thy
 
 Flo7'a : the Roman Martyr, 8i 
 
 request; but thou hast been a voluntary Pagan, and 
 for thee the path cannot be so easy. Thou must do 
 penance first, and then after due instruction thou 
 mayest be admitted into the One Fold." 
 
 " From this day forward," she replied, " I shall live in 
 that hope." 
 
 Origen and the slave then withdrew, leaving the 
 ladies together, who did not join the company again. 
 That same evening, Siona and her husband returned to 
 Aricia, but she did not trust herself to speak of the 
 child's illness, and he supposed the excursion had 
 fatigued his young wife, who was unusually silent. A 
 few days after, Origen came to spend a little time with 
 them, according to Florentius' invitation, and this 
 afforded a good opportunity for instructing Siona in the 
 Christian religion. She drank in with avidity the 
 stream of truth for which her heart thirsted, and on her 
 return to Eome in the autumn, she improved her 
 acquaintance with Cecilia, and was prepared by her for 
 the grace of Baptism. She could no longer endure the 
 sight of the household gods, but could not ask for their 
 removal without suspicion. Origen turned them into 
 ridicule however, and Florentius was so charmed with 
 his friend the philosopher, as he considered him, that he 
 took down the Penates of his own accord from both his 
 town and country house. Thus the false divinities of 
 that household disappeared, and there arose One who 
 established His Empire gradually, in the hearts of the 
 slaves first, of the masters last, a Hidden God. 
 
 At the recommendation of Cecilia, Siona was admitted 
 
 6
 
 82 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 to the assembly of the faithful, and allowed to join the 
 ranks of those who were under instruction preparing to 
 receive Baptism the following Easter. And that 
 blessed Holy Saturday night came at last, and Cecilia 
 and Claudius were the happy witnesses of that conver- 
 sion towards which they had so much contributed ; but, 
 impressive as was the beautiful ceremony in the eyes of 
 all, it had a still deeper meaning for them who knew the 
 previous history of the neophyte, and they were not sur- 
 prised to see her remain bowed down in prayer even 
 after the signal for dispersing had been given. Cecilia, 
 raising her up gently, asked her what she felt : " Speak 
 not," answered the radiant Siona, "for I have heard and 
 seen Him. His Presence is even here, and you all shine 
 in it ! He has repeated to me the words He spoke to my 
 ancestor: Si vis peifedus esse, veni seqtcere me. And I 
 will follow thee, oh Master, to prison and to death ! " 
 
 She raised her clasped hands and streaming eyes to 
 Heaven, and, verily, in that moment, she saw what 
 mortal eye may not gaze upon. They waited a little to 
 give her time to compose herself, then hurried her off ; 
 with that peace in her heart which surpasseth all under- 
 standing, she re-entered her pagan home. 
 
 A few months passed ; the silent work went on ; a 
 gleam of sunshine seemed to play on the Christians of 
 those days, but it was only the presage of a coming 
 storm. Valerian and Tiburtius having been discovered 
 burying the dead, and it being reported that they 
 distributed great sums among the poor, they were 
 called before the tribunal.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the sun shone brightly, and though it 
 was the busiest time of the whole day, yet there 
 reigned in the Eoman Forum a hushed silence, like the 
 eagerness of expectation. A crowd of people surrounded 
 the temple of Antoninus and Faustina where the Prae- 
 fect Turcius Almachius sat in judgment on two young 
 patricians, accused of honouring the bodies of martyred 
 Christians. There was no edict in force at that time 
 against the followers of Christ, but Almachius had 
 seized upon a frivolous pretext to incriminate the noble 
 Romans whose wealth had excited his cupidity.* 
 
 " Which of you two is the elder ? " was the first ques- 
 tion put by the judge. 
 
 ''There is no difference between us," replied Tiburtius. 
 '•God, the True, the Only One, the Eternal, has made us 
 equal by His grace." 
 
 " Can you tell me that which is hidden, yet true ?" 
 " The eternal life which you refuse to see." 
 " You speak not according to your own spirit." 
 " No ! but according to the spirit I have received 
 from our Saviour Jesus Christ " 
 
 * The whole of this interrogatory is taken from the Acts of 
 the Martyrs.
 
 84 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Withdraw ! You know not what you say. And 
 you, Valerian, is your mind more sound than your 
 brother's ? " 
 
 " There is a heavenly Doctor who has deigned to take 
 charge of my brother's mind and mine, Christ, the Son 
 of the Living God." 
 
 " Do not speak so foolishly." 
 
 " Your ear being false, you cannot discern the truth 
 of my words. I have seen in the depth of winter men 
 devoted to pleasure pass along the country, and laugh 
 at labourers who tilled the earth, planted the vine, and 
 grafted the rose, and they said to them : ' Men of toil, 
 leave this superfluous work, come and partake of our 
 amusements ; why waste life in such occupations ? ' and 
 they clapt their hands in derision. The pleasant spring 
 succeeded to the days of cold ; the country was covered 
 with verdure, and rose trees with leaves and flowers, the 
 vine descended in graceful festoons from the trees, and 
 these too bore fruit. The labourers were filled with 
 joy, but the men of the city who had laughed at them, 
 now felt the effects of want, and they said : ' Verily ! 
 the toil of those working men hath seemed to us a 
 shame, and their company a disgrace, and behold ! they 
 were wise, and we foolish ; we derided them, and they 
 are now surrounded with flowers and honour '." 
 
 " You have spoken eloquently, but not in answer to 
 my question." 
 
 " You have considered us foolish and senseless," re- 
 sumed Valerian, " because we give hospitality to 
 strangers, and succour widows and orphans, and give
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 85 
 
 an honourable burial to the bodies of martyrs. Accord- 
 ing to you, our folly consists in refusing the pleasures 
 of voluptuousness, and disdaining the privileges of high 
 birth. A time will come when we shall gather the 
 fruits of our privations ; for now is the time to sow, 
 and those who sow in tears in this life shall reap in joy 
 in the next." 
 
 " Then you mean that we, and our invincible sove- 
 reigns, are doomed to sorrow, while you will possess 
 true felicity." 
 
 " And who are you and your princes ? You are only 
 men, born on a given day, and destined to die when 
 your hour shall come. You have to render a strict 
 account to God of the power entrusted to your hands." 
 
 The altercation was touching on dangerous subjects ; 
 the Prsefect endeavoured to cut it short. 
 
 " No more of these lengthy words ; offer a simple liba- 
 tion to the gods and you may retire without any punish- 
 ment." 
 
 Both brothers answered at once: "Every day we offer 
 sacrifice to God, but not to the gods." 
 
 " And who is your God ? " 
 
 " I wonder at your question. Do you think there 
 are more gods than one ? " 
 
 " Tell me, at least, the name of this God you speak 
 of." 
 
 " The name of God," returned Valerian, " is a Name 
 you cannot discover, even if you had wings, and could 
 fly in the air." 
 
 " Then you imply that Jupiter is not a god."
 
 86 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " It would be a great mistake to suppose it. Jupiter 
 is a homicide, a monster of vice, and the name of God 
 is only befitting to Him Who is Virtue itself." 
 
 " And is the whole universe in error, and are your 
 brother and you the only persons who know the true 
 God ? " 
 
 " Christians are spread all over the empire ; it is you 
 who form the minority, poor planks cast on the ocean 
 after shipwreck and only fit for fuel." 
 
 The judge, irritated beyond all bounds, ordered the 
 noble Eoman to be scourged by the lictors. A sup- 
 pressed cry was heard in the crowd, and a patrician 
 lady, closely veiled, was borne away by her attendants. 
 Valerian recognised the voice, and as he was led to the 
 pillar where criminals used to undergo this punishment, 
 preliminary to death, he cried out in joyful accents, so 
 as to be heard: "This is the hour which I have ardently 
 sighed for, this day is brighter for me than all the feasts 
 of this world ". 
 
 Like unto the Master, Whose name was engraved on 
 his heart, he stretched out his hands to the executioners, 
 and unclasping his patrician toga, he bowed under the 
 ignominious strokes; but his voice was not hushed, each 
 blow seemed to strengthen it, and the people listened as 
 he cried to them : " Roman citizens, let not the sight of 
 my torments hinder you from confessing the truth. 
 Eemain constant in the true faith, destroy the gods of 
 wood and stone, to whom Almachius offers incense ; 
 reduce them to dust, and may those who adore them be 
 eternally punished."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr 87 
 
 The number of blows prescribed by the law being 
 filled up, Valerian was unbound from the pillar. As 
 the lictors threw their bloody scourges on the ground a 
 slave came and petitioned to have them, offering gold in 
 exchange. They laughed at him, but took the proffered 
 bribe. The man stooped to pick up the rods, and in 
 so doing, kissed, unperceived, the feet of Valerian, wdio 
 whispered to him : " Tell her I am strong of heart, let 
 her pray for me to the end ". 
 
 The slave rolled up his prize in a linen cloth, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 The noble Eoman, undaunted, was again led before 
 the tribunal, where his brother awaited him, and a like 
 sentence was passed on both. They were to be con- 
 ducted to the fourth mile-stone of the Appian Way, to 
 the Pagus Triopius where they were to sacrifice to 
 Jupiter, or be condemned to death. Guards now sur- 
 rounded the prisoners, and they set out in order on their 
 march. As Valerian cast his eyes on the officer who 
 was at their head, he could see the brave man pass his 
 hand over his eyes, and lower his helmet to conceal his 
 emotion. He recognised him, and exclaimed: "Maxi- 
 mus, how come you to have been named to this duty ? " 
 
 " Because noble patricians like you require a noble 
 escort, and they would not confide you to a subaltern. 
 Oh, the mockery of this feigned respect, when we know 
 what they have in store for you. Noble and brilliant 
 flower of the Eoman youth, brothers united by so tender 
 a love, why will you persist in offending the gods, and 
 how can you run to death as to a feast ? "
 
 SS Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " And think you," replied Tiburtius, " that we could 
 show such joy at this hour were we not persuaded that 
 the next life is better than this ? " 
 
 They went on, and as they came near to the Tiburtine 
 gate, the people, who at first had crowded round them, 
 began to disperse, several returning to the city. Maxi- 
 mus drew nearer to his friends, and asked in a low 
 voice : " What is the next life ? " 
 
 "Even," replied Tiburtius, "as our body is covered 
 with clothing, so it is with our soul clothed in a mortal 
 envelope. Our body, which draws its origin from the 
 earth, shall be restored to it, and turn to dust to rise 
 again like the phoenix, when the dawn of day shall come ; 
 but as to the soul, if it be pure, it will be taken to 
 Paradise to enjoy there eternal felicity, and await its 
 re-union to the body." 
 
 Again the young officer drew back a few paces, and a 
 strange conflict arose within him, such as he had never 
 experienced before ; it was the first fruit of the martyrs' 
 sacrifice ; their blood was baptizing his soul, even before 
 it was shed. After a short silence, he resumed : " If I 
 could acquire the certitude of this future life you speak 
 of, I too would feel disposed to contemn the present life". 
 
 " Then," said Valerian, " in the name of Him for 
 Whom I am about to die, accept the promise I make 
 to you. In the hour in which my body shall be 
 immolated, your eyes will be opened to see the glory 
 into which we enter, on one condition alone, that you 
 repent of your past errors." 
 
 " I accept," replied the young man, " and I devote
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 89 
 
 myself to Heaven's anger if in that hour I confess not 
 the True and Only God." * 
 
 Thus was his act of faith pronounced ; it had burst 
 forth from the almost unconscious heart of the soldier, 
 touched by a mighty grace. The brothers wished that 
 the work might be fulfilled before they left him. 
 
 "Can you not," they said, "order these men, over 
 whom you have authority, to take us to your house ? 
 There they can guard us ; our execution can be delayed 
 one day ; meanwhile we shall send for him who is to 
 purify you, and this very night you shall see Him we 
 have promised to show you." 
 
 Maximus complied ; he directed the soldiers to skirt 
 the town walls, and this brought them to a country- 
 house which belonged to him. There ranging them in a 
 -circle, he placed Valerian and Tiburtius in the midst, 
 and listened to the truths which they expounded. They 
 continued their instructions till nightfall, when a 
 messenger who had been dispatched in secret to Cecilia, 
 returned with her and two priests, bringing with them 
 the substance which was to be changed into Sacraments, 
 the bread and wine of the Sacrifice, and the mystical 
 oil which was to anoint those athletes of God ! Cecilia, 
 at once a wife and an apostle, reassumed at this dread 
 hour the charge she had already fulfilled towards 
 Valerian. Like the Angel of Gethsemane, she had 
 come to them, holding to their lips a chalice which was 
 soon to pass away, and strengthening them to pro- 
 
 * This conversation is taken from the Acts of the Martyrs.
 
 QO Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 nounce that sublime Fiat which tore her womanly 
 heart with even more suffering than they would have 
 to go through in their approaching martyrdom. The 
 waters of baptism were poured on all those willing men, 
 and the house of Maximus was turned into a house of 
 prayer. Morning came, and it was Cecilia who broke 
 the silence first in that pious assembly : " Soldiers of 
 Christ,"* she exclaimed, pointing to the dawn which 
 broke upon the east, " cast away the works of darkness- 
 and clothe yourselves with the armour of light. You 
 have fought manfully, you have run your race, you have 
 preserved your faith. Go then to receive the crown of 
 life which the just Judge will give you and all those 
 who welcome His coming." Then she left them, walk- 
 ing out hand in hand with Valerian, and on the threshold 
 thanked him for the brotherly love he had borne her,, 
 and for the happiness of their short holy union, and there 
 she remained, watching them until they were out of 
 sight. On they went, an invincible phalanx; they, 
 passed the spot where the Master had appeared to Peter, 
 and all knelt and touched with their foreheads the 
 consecrated spot. On again, the monument of Cecilia 
 Metella casting its shadow over them, and Valerian could 
 see the name so dear to him engraved upon the marble ;. 
 it was the last thing of earth he gazed upon. They 
 reached the village of Pagus Triopius ; there was the 
 temple of Jupiter, and his priests, standing at the foot 
 of his altar, presented the martyrs with incense. They 
 
 * Acta Sanctce Cecilice.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 91 
 
 only answered by kneeling, and offering their necks to 
 the executioner; all the soldiers, now Christians, ranged 
 themselves around them ; they could not comply with 
 the Prsefect's orders, they refused to lay a hand on their 
 brethren in the faith, and others had to be summoned 
 to do the cruel office. At that moment Maximus fell 
 prostrate, for he saw the heavens opened, and the 
 martyred brothers enter into glory. The bodies 
 remained until night on the very spot where they had 
 fallen. Then came a woman, clothed in mourning 
 patrician robes; she was accompanied by slaves, who 
 gathered the dead together, wept over them, and bore 
 them away. 
 
 Meanwhile the soldiers had returned to Eome; their 
 commanding officer seemed to be seized with a strange 
 hallucination, and for some days he never ceased repeat- 
 ing, even v/hile walking and sleeping : " I have seen, I 
 have seen ". 
 
 He was summoned to the tribunal of Almachius ; 
 threats and the judge's anger could only draw from him 
 the confession of his faith. His punishment was most 
 severe, for, having betrayed his trust, he was condemned 
 to be beaten to death with whips armed with leaden 
 balls ; in this atrocious torment his skull was fractured, 
 and he soon expired. 
 
 The same pious hands which had buried the mortal 
 remains of Valerian and Tiburtius, laid Maximus by 
 their side, and in memory of that last conversation 
 which had brought faith to his heart, a phoenix was 
 engraven on his grave. From that day, the house of
 
 92 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 Valerian in the Via Salutaris became a place of refuge 
 to sufferers of all kinds ; every day, abundant alms were 
 distributed there by Cecilia, who used to go round to 
 the poor, speaking words of comfort to each of them ; 
 sometimes she told them she was soon going away, and 
 must send her treasures before, to wait for her, there 
 where the moth could not devour them, nor the rust of 
 the world consume. She often had a little child in her 
 arms, she loved it as the solace of her widowhood ; it 
 was brought to her daily, and seemed to know her well, 
 for a bab;^ smile would play on the little lips, in answer 
 to the oft repeated injunction : " Flora, thou must love 
 Jesus ". 
 
 Siona did not dare to visit her friend, for the Eoman 
 widow was well known to the judge, and the sentence 
 of death was already hanging over her, but she sent her 
 little one in her stead, for she believed a mysterious 
 sympathy existed between those two pure souls, of 
 whom one was about to leave the world the other had 
 scarcely entered; perhaps she fondly hoped that the 
 inheritance of Cecilia's virtues would be infused into her 
 child, for, each time she returned to her, she received 
 her with a kind of respect, and gazed upon that little 
 face, which seemed to her to bear the foreshadowing of 
 a great destiny. 
 
 Six months passed away. One day, Cecilia reclined 
 in her cuhiculum after her solitary repast ; the young 
 virgins she had been rearing for Christ were dispersed ; 
 she had sent them to the shelter of their respective 
 homes, as a gardener cares for his nurslings at the
 
 Flora : the Ro?7ian Martyr. 93 
 
 approach of a storm. Flora alone was playing quietly 
 with flowers, on the floor. Suddenly, there was a noise 
 outside, and a slave entered with consternation in her 
 manner, announcing that the emissaries from the masis- 
 trates had come to seize her beloved mistress : " Do not 
 let them see you," she added. " Fly through the garden. 
 I have bid them tarry awhile, so as to give you time to 
 escape. " 
 
 " Silence, woman," replied the noble lady ; " look only 
 to the safety of this child." 
 
 She went out to where the men stood. Their attitude 
 was so respectful, so full of compassion and admiration, 
 that when they entreated her to sacrifice to the gods, 
 she felt she could address them: "Citizens and brothers, 
 hear me," she said, " you are brave soldiers, and in your 
 hearts, you detest the impious conduct of Almachius. 
 As to me, I glorify in confessing Jesus Christ, and suf- 
 fering for Him, for I have never cared for life. I pity 
 you for being compelled to obey so unjust a judge. To 
 die for Christ is not to sacrifice one's youth as in your 
 pity for me you seem to think, it is only giving dust in 
 exchange for gold, a perishable gift for an eternal reward. 
 Would not you too joyfully barter a vile coin against 
 a precious metal, if it were offered to you, and would 
 you not invite all your friends to share your good for- 
 tune ? Jesus Christ does more : He will return to you 
 a hundredfold what you offer Him, and add thereunto 
 life everlasting." 
 
 Several of the men were already won by the inspired 
 accents of the noble virgin, and she saw by their man-
 
 94 Flora : the Roman Mai^lyr. 
 
 ner the advantage she had gained. Stepping on a pede- 
 stal to raise herself : " Do you believe," she asked, " in 
 what I have just told you ? " 
 
 A thrill of enthusiasm ran through the ranks, and 
 they answered with one voice : " Yes ! we believe that 
 Christ, the Son of God, is the true God". 
 
 " Go then," she resumed, " and tell Almachius I re- 
 quire a delay; he can defer my condemnation for a little 
 while. In that interval you will return here and find 
 one who will teach you." 
 
 They went and, as God had so decreed, the will of 
 the brave virgin prevailed over the bad man's heart ; he 
 granted her a respite. To her it was the time of an 
 abundant harvest, to be gathered for her Heavenly 
 Father. All those who lived in that part of Eome drew 
 round her, hearing they were to lose her soon ; almost 
 all hearkened to her words, and Urban the Pontiff, in 
 order to console the last days of his beloved daughter, and 
 crown her last work, came to dwell in her house, and pour 
 the regenerating waters on those she had converted. 
 
 Four hundred neophytes knelt before the Common 
 Father, a Christian army girding their loins for the day 
 of combat. CeciKa consigned her house to one named 
 Gordian that it might serve henceforward for the Chris- 
 tian assemblies. Urban remained in the midst of his 
 new flock, comforting and exhorting them. In that 
 gathering of Christians, Flora was known as the child 
 of the house, she would play innocently by the Pontiff, 
 or listen to him when he spoke, for she reverenced him 
 with childish awe.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 95 
 
 One day he was reading the Gospel to his hearers, 
 and as he came upon the words, " If you become not 
 like unto this little child, ye shall not be worthy of the 
 Kingdom of God," that little girl was crouched before 
 him, gazing at him with those singular eyes she in- 
 herited from her mother. He held her up as illustrating 
 the Master's words. 
 
 " Oh Father ! " exclaimed Cecilia, shuddering, " do not 
 apply those words to my god -child ; the little one 
 whom Our Saviour pointed out to the Apostles was in 
 after years devoured by wild beasts." 
 
 " What then ! art thou not preparing for martyrdom, 
 and dost thou dread a similar glory for Flora ? " 
 
 " Ay, Father ! but that child is connected with the 
 old tale of Our Master's unrequited love," and she re- 
 peated to him the history of Siona's forefather. 
 
 The venerable Urban listened, looked again into the 
 face of the child, and seemed to read therein with a 
 prophetic eye ; for he made the sign of the cross on her, 
 and said in a low voice : " Flora, thou must fulfil thy 
 destiny, the grace which thy ancestor threw away has 
 descended upon thee, it must bear thee through the 
 Virgin's path to the Martyr's crown." 
 
 A few days passed, and the messenger of Almachius 
 returned ; Cecilia was summoned before the tribunal ; 
 slight in stature and simply dressed, she looked but a 
 young girl, and, as such, the magistrate addressed her, 
 " Puella, what is your name ? " 
 
 " Men call me Cecilia, but I have another name far 
 more noble, and that is, ' I am a Christian '."
 
 96 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " What is your condition ? " 
 
 " I am Eoman-born, of a noble and illustrious race." 
 
 " I am enquiring about your religion, the nobility of 
 your family is well known to us." 
 
 "Your interrogation was not exact then, since it 
 required two answers." 
 
 " Whence do you derive so much assurance ? " 
 
 " From a pure conscience and a sincere faith." 
 
 " Do you not know my power ? " 
 
 " And do you not know Who is my betrothed ? " 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 
 " The Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 " Are you not aware that our Masters, the Invincible 
 Emperors, have given orders that all who refuse to deny 
 themselves Christians are to be punished, and all who 
 deny themselves as such, acquitted ? " 
 
 " Your Emperors err as well as yourself. The law 
 you bring forward only proves one fact, that you are 
 cruel, and we innocent, for, if the name of Christian 
 were a crime, it ought to be your duty rather to make 
 us confess it." 
 
 " But the clemency of the Emperors thus offers you a 
 means of saving your life," interposed the Judge. 
 
 " And we," replied Cecilia, " consider the title of 
 Christian as great and sacred, we cannot deny it. You 
 wish to hear a lie from our mouths, but, in proclaiming 
 the truth, we inflict on you a torture greater than that 
 to which you subject us." 
 
 " Either sacrifice to the gods or simply deny that you 
 are a Christian, and you shall depart in peace."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, g^ 
 
 A disdainful smile curled the lip of the virgin; 
 " Truly," she said, " what you propose is most humbling 
 to yourself as magistrate ; you wish me to lie. I 
 triumph in the accusation, and death shall be my vic- 
 tory." 
 
 " Unhappy woman ! Know you not that the power 
 of life and death are in my hands ? " 
 
 " That is false." 
 
 " How say you so ? " 
 
 " You have only the power of death ; you can take 
 life from those who enjoy it, but you cannot restore it 
 to such as are dead. Say then that your Emperors have 
 constituted you a minister of death, but nothing more." 
 
 " Lay aside this audacious language, and sacrifice to 
 the gods." 
 
 " You must have lost the use of your eyes, for I and 
 all here present can see nothing but statues of stone, 
 bronze, and lead." 
 
 " I am a philosopher, and have disdained your taunts 
 when only addressed to myself, but I may not suffer 
 the gods to be insulted." 
 
 " Not a word have you let fall, but I have proved it 
 to be unjust, and now you have even lost your sight. 
 You call these stones gods ; feel them, they wear away, 
 and cannot defend themselves from the injuries of the 
 weather. Every one knows that God is in Heaven. 
 Christ alone saves from death, and condemns the guilty 
 to be punished by fire." 
 
 The intrepid virgin ceased ; for only thus far had it 
 been given to her to speak. She was mindful of Him 
 
 7
 
 98 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 Who had told her not to reflect beforehand, for in that 
 hour He would inspire her with what she should say 
 before men. The judge feared to spill the blood of one 
 of such illustrious birth, for he had already infringed on 
 his orders. He now commanded Cecilia to be conducted 
 to her own house, there to be put to death privately. 
 She was to be shut up in the caldarium of her own 
 baths, a great fire being lit in the hypocaustum beneath ; 
 the steam would thus suffocate her, and she would die 
 untouched by the lictor's hand. 
 
 Joyfully the virgin entered the place of her martyr- 
 dom ; devoutly she fell on her knees and kissed the 
 pavement which was to receive her dying form ; 
 triumphantly she stretched out her arms as if to seize 
 the palm so soon to be hers. How strange, she then 
 thought, was that prophetic foresight which had caused 
 her to paint on the walls of the caldarmm the three 
 Hebrew children in the furnace ! it was now a peaceful 
 vision given to her to comfort her agony. She looked 
 on the happy faces till they seemed to swim before her 
 in the dense clouds of steam that arose ; her breathing 
 became difficult, her brain reeled, her eyes shed tears 
 that did not relieve her; she called upon her God, and 
 fell fainting and exhausted on the burning pavement. 
 She thought death was at hand, and composed her limbs 
 modestly for the eternal sleep, and drew over her head 
 the veil that was to hide her features from mortal eye, 
 when lo ! an angel stood by her side ; he who had been 
 through life the guardian of her virginity, now revived 
 by a sweet dew from Heaven her sinking strength,
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 99 
 
 fanned her with his wings, and cooled her temples with 
 a moisture distilled from his bright hands ; he told her 
 the hour was not yet come, though near at hand, then 
 her voice returned to her, and, rising from the ground, 
 she broke forth into a hymn of praise, and in tones 
 which the vaporous atmosphere rendered more clear and 
 ringing, sang the triumph of that hour. 
 
 Those who stood without shook their heads with 
 compassion, and many eyes were moistened with pity, 
 and they said : " 'Tis like the swan that sings when 
 about to die ". 
 
 The morning of the third day dawned; the execu- 
 tioners opened the caldarmm to withdraw the body of 
 their victim : lo ! she lived ! a fire more ardent than that 
 lit by mortal hands supported her still, the love which 
 is stronger than death had annihilated the destroying 
 flames. 
 
 Xews of the prodigy were conveyed to Almachius; 
 the enraged tyrant despatched a lictor with orders to 
 cut off her head. The man of blood came, but he quailed 
 in the presence of her who had conquered death. Twice 
 he brandished his axe in vain ; at the third stroke, 
 Cecilia fell, an unslain victim on the floor. The Eoman 
 laws did not permit the executioner to strike more than 
 three times ; he was obliged to withdraw, leaving Cecilia 
 to her fate. The door of the noble lady's house was 
 opened to such Christians as wished to honour her 
 remains, as they thought ! but oh ! wonderful interposi- 
 tion of God ! from that head, bleeding and disfigured, 
 yet still attached to the trunk, a voice came forth, faint
 
 lOO Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 and weak, yet .sweet as the martyr's tones had been 
 through life, and exhorted the brethren to be faithful 
 unto death. Maidens surrounded her, and steeped linen 
 cloths in her blood, men knelt at a respectful distance, 
 and listened to her dying words ; pagans came too, and, 
 as many as saw and heard her; went away believing. 
 She taught them the mystery of the Holy Trinity ; with 
 the three fingers of her right hand extended, she con- 
 tinued to hold up one of the left, and repeated in accents 
 which lived in the hearers' minds long after the voice 
 that uttered them was hushed for ever : '' Believe in 
 One God in Three Persons ". Death has respected the 
 burning eloquence of those motionless hands, the tomb 
 has revealed the modest beauty of that attitude, sculpture 
 has immortalized it ; from her stony vault and marble 
 figure, Cecilia repeats : " One God in Three Persons ". 
 She recognised the poor she had loved and commended 
 them to the charity of the faithful; she spoke to the 
 young girls whose mistress she had been so long; to 
 Martina who knelt by her side, and wept unceasingly, 
 she whispered words of solemn import which made the 
 girl's cheek grow pale at first, then radiant with ardent 
 desire. 
 
 " Watch over my little Flora," she said in conclusion, 
 " I entrust her to your care." 
 
 Then Martina left her for a few minutes, and returned 
 with a little child in her arms ; she knelt down and held 
 the little face close to that of the martyr. The child 
 looked frightened at the sight of so much blood, but did 
 not cry ; presently with that Christian instinct which
 
 c 
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. loi 
 
 she had imbibed from the example of others, she dipped 
 her tiny finger in the streaming cloths and signed her 
 forehead with the cross. Cecilia saw the impressive 
 act. " Even so/' she said, " my blood has marked her 
 for Jesus ! I shall recognise her before God's Judgment 
 Seat! . . . Let her prayer be through life 'Fiat 
 cor weum et corpus meum immaculatum, ut nan con- 
 fv.nclcir '. Now, take her away, and let a messenger be 
 sent for Urban, our Pontiff and Father, for I cannot die 
 till I receive his blessing." 
 
 Her desire had been forestalled, and the Pope now 
 stood by her side ; he had seen her grow in virtue under 
 his eyes, he had received the revelations of her sinless 
 heart, and the aspirings of her brave spirit ; he came 
 now to receive her last sigh. Her voice which had been 
 growing fainter and fainter, became almost vigorous at 
 his approach : 
 
 " It is well," she said, " I had implored of God a three 
 days' delay that I might see you once more and confide 
 to your Beatitude * the poor whom I have loved, and 
 also this house that you may turn it into a place of 
 assembly for the faithful. Xow, bless me. Father, for I 
 go to the Bridegroom who saith : Come ! " 
 
 And as the pontifical hand which had often blessed 
 her, was raised over her once more, she turned away as 
 if unwilling that men should gaze on her in that last 
 moment. The prayer she had so much loved hovered 
 on her lips, but was not concluded : " Fiat cor mcum et 
 
 * Ada Stce. Cecilice. A striking instance of the antiquity of 
 this title.
 
 o 
 
 1 02 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 corpus meum immaculatum" . . . they heard no 
 more ! she had ceased to live ! 
 
 Urban had placed her in her grave, even thus, as 
 death had left her, with her head bowed down, and 
 turned away, and knees modestly joined, and the out- 
 stretched arms stiffened and motionless, yet teaching 
 still, in their death-like attitude, for the fingers repeated 
 Three in One ! 
 
 Even thus ! in her noble, patrician, gold-embroidered 
 robes which veiled to the world the depths of her peni- 
 tential spirit, but not entirely so, for when Martina's 
 arms gently raised the beautiful corpse to her bier, she 
 felt tlirough that rich tunic the iron chain with which 
 the virgin girt her delicate frame ; mysterious armour, 
 known to those who fight the battles of the King of 
 kings. 
 
 Even thus she was found hundreds of years later, 
 unchanged ; thus she now lies under the altar with the 
 instrument of penance concealed under her golden robe. 
 
 She was placed in that catacomb which Calixtus had 
 devoted more especially to Pontiffs, but at its furthest 
 extremity, near to that of St. Pretextatus, where lay her 
 husband, in order to unite, as much as possible, those 
 who had been linked on earth in the holiest of bonds. 
 
 And there she began her long sleep, awaiting the re- 
 surrection in the shadow of that great mausoleum which 
 has carried the name of her ancestress, Cecilia Metella, 
 far and wide, and men little knew, when they passed 
 by, that a greater glory and an undying fame lay hid 
 beneath the soil.
 
 K' 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THEEE years passed away. Maximinus, the Thra- 
 cian peasant who had at first won the Emperor's 
 favour by his agility in a horse-race, had risen from 
 thence to command the 4th legion, later, the Praetorian 
 guard, and finally, the wdiole army, now wore the Im- 
 perial purple. But alas ! the first dignity of the empire 
 sat ill on the barbarian, he never visited the land he 
 was unworthy to call his own ; Eome never saw him, 
 that humiliation was spared her, but from his camp on 
 the Danube, the despot reigned by the terror of his 
 name. Italy w^as covered with spies and informers, 
 more apt to discover those whose riches rendered them 
 an object of envy, than to distinguish merit or accuse 
 the guilty. The senators were the first victims of the 
 absent tyrant's cruelty, for those days were no more 
 when the Fathers of the Eoman people would sit peac- 
 ably in the attitude of command when danger was nigh, 
 prepared to repulse the invader by the awful majesty of 
 their presence alone. Alas ! how much was gone of the 
 old greatness, and the respect for the past, and the con- 
 sular dignity, and the republican pride ! Degenerate 
 Eome ! had he who wore the purple been less a slave, 
 the humiliation might have been less crushing; but 
 now ! the gods themselves were not respected, the army
 
 I04 Flora ; the Roman Martyr. 
 
 wanted money, and the temples were stripped of their 
 silver offerings and golden shrines, the idols themselves 
 were to be seen remorselessly carried away on carts, to 
 be melted down for base purposes. 
 
 The ashes of the good Alexander had been brought 
 home by pious hands, and Eoman gratitude erected a 
 monument to him* together with his mother, Mammea, 
 the guardian-parent who had formed his youthful mind, 
 and trained him to virtue and science ; one among the 
 many women who have in all ages been praised for the 
 vigilant care with which they guarded the offspring con- 
 fided to their widowhood. How often has a youthful 
 hero been developed, and a man risen to renown, be- 
 cause the fostering hand, the woman's wdt, and keen 
 discernment, guided as wisely as the father's rule. 
 How many great men have owed their education to 
 their mothers, from Csesar to Napoleon ! 
 
 And therefore they slept together, the mother and the 
 son, and as men passed outside the Porta Celimontana, 
 they saw near the mountain of grain, a huge mausoleum 
 which many looked upon with tearful eyes, for it 
 brought back the memory of happy days. Many 
 entered it to pay an act of homage to the illustrious 
 dead. In its sepulchral chamber, there was a marble 
 sarcophagus of more than usual size ; bassi rilievi ran 
 round it, and they told the history of Achilles, his love 
 for Chryseis, his quarrel with Agamemnon, the death of 
 Patroclus and Hector's direful fate ; the scene " between 
 the kneeling Priam and the haughty Achilles occupied 
 
 * To be seen in the Capitoline Museum at the present day.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 105 
 
 the fourth side, as if the image of death must not be 
 brought forward with that of glory, and above, on the 
 cover of the urn, lay, half-sitting, half-reclining, the 
 mother and the son. Time has respected those marble 
 figures, which show to this day the absence of those 
 signs of animal life, too often to be met with in the 
 busts of Eoman emperors. There is intellect in the 
 woman's well-developed forehead, more perhaps than 
 in Alexander's, where openness of character and good- 
 ness are more conspicuous. Mammea's hair, drawn 
 back, and confined under a fillet, shows a head where 
 men's qualities predominate over feminine features, the 
 pose in both is natural, devoid of indolence, and indi- 
 cates an energetic character, ever ready to arise for the 
 work to be done. 
 
 Time went on ; the Christian faith flourished in dark- 
 ness and persecution ; yet sometimes, for the heart of 
 man is weak, the brethren grew weary of their trials, 
 and raised their hands to God, asking Him to be their 
 Judge, and praying that His reign of peace might come. 
 It was spring ! there was joy on the face of nature, and 
 a corresponding exhilarating feeling raised the heart 
 even of such as had cause to mourn. Siona stood on a 
 terrace in the garden of her house situated on Mount 
 Aventine, where she and her husband used to resort 
 during the summer months, their town house, near the 
 Tiber, being better suited for the cold season. She 
 was looking down sadly on the edifices of that city, 
 where the pride of life and public corruption were 
 drawing down on its inhabitants the vengeance of God.
 
 io6 Flora : the Roman Marty 
 
 ir. 
 
 Before her, there stood out on the horizon the hill of 
 the Janiculum on which St. Peter breathed his last, 
 consecrated, even in those days, as a spot sacred to pious 
 pilgrimage and fervent prayer. From that, the first 
 stage in the long passion of Christ's martyrs, she could 
 trace out the long Dolorous Way which they had trod 
 like their Master, from the Gethsemani of trial to the 
 Calvary of expiation. How many, dear to her, had 
 fallen in that Eoad of the Cross ! how the wounds of 
 her heart bled afresh as the houses they had dwelt in, 
 the places they had frequented, rose to her view in that 
 busy city ! Cecilia, who the first had initiated her in 
 the divine truths, how soon had she winged her flight to 
 Heaven ! and, of those friends w^ho yet remained to her, 
 how many were destined to fall victims in the daily 
 strife ! As for herself, she did not know what was in 
 store ; in her Pagan home, the light of truth had shone 
 for her alone ; her religion was a profound secret which 
 she kept concealed from her husband, and if anything 
 happened to her, what would become of her child, her 
 precious lamb, marked with the sign of Christ's flock ? 
 Thoughts of mourning regret, of hopeless fear, of name- 
 less despondency, came to her in that hour, and weighed 
 down her spirit ; she bowed her head on her hands. 
 Presently, a tiny foot-fall disturbed the pebbles in the 
 gravel walk behind her, and as she turned to look rounds 
 a child's face, the miniature of her own, gazed at her 
 with infantine wonder and tenderness, and her little 
 daughter whispered : " Mama, why are you sad ? please 
 do not cry ! "
 
 Flora : the Roman JlJartyr. 107 
 
 Flora was in her fifth year : many thought her a pre- 
 cocious child, but it was the consequence of early 
 Christian training ; for religion is a natural element to 
 the human heart, and those who are from childhood 
 steeped in its doctrines show a vigorous health of mind 
 w^hich seldom or never gives way under later struggles. 
 Oh the marvellous secrets and the prodigious learning 
 of those little souls to whom Jesus has come early and 
 taught His divine lessons ; theirs is a wisdom the world 
 does not know, and theirs a conscience full of depth, of 
 beauty, and poetry, to which the children of this world, 
 learned though they be, can never attain ! 
 
 Flora, though a mere infant, was already a little com- 
 panion to her mother : Florentius was absent at this 
 time, having gone to Iberia to receive, in his wife's 
 name, property which she inherited from her sister who 
 had lately died in that country. Siona was in the habit 
 of taking her child by the hand, when she used every 
 morning go round the house to superintend domestic 
 arrangements : the little girl missed her mother this 
 morning, and having looked for her in the garden, came 
 up to her gently, pulling her by the dress. 
 
 " Mama, why are you crying ? is it because you have 
 not received any letter from my father ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, dear child, he sends me word he 
 will be here soon." 
 
 " Oh joy! has the tdbellarius come from Iberia then?" 
 
 " Yes," said Siona, " he has brought these ; " and she 
 took out from the folds of her stola tablets engraved 
 with the point of a stylet.
 
 io8 Flora : the Roman Marty 7^. 
 
 " From my father ! " exclaimed the child kissing them, 
 " I want to hear every word he says ; that is, if you 
 will please to tell me, Mama." She climbed up to the 
 top of the low wall against which Siona was leaning, 
 and sat down, putting her arm round her mother's neck. 
 
 " Florentius has been detained by bad weather ; he 
 had besides much business to attend to, and he has been 
 obliged to look out for a person who will attend to the 
 property when he leaves." 
 
 " Does that mean a Villicus like Claudius ? " 
 
 " No, not a slave. I am very sad at having lost my 
 sister ; her husband died only a few months ago, and 
 your father and I wished her to come and live with us, 
 together with her little boy. We heard she had fallen 
 ill, and Florentius set out at once, but he only arrived 
 in time to see her die. She left her orphan child, 
 Laurentius, in my charge, and your father is bringing 
 him home to us. You will be very good to your little 
 cousin, will you not. Flora ? " 
 
 " Well ! I wish it were a little girl." 
 
 " The poor little fellow is only two years and a half 
 old, much younger than you, you see, so you must help 
 me to take care of him, and teach him, and make him 
 good." 
 
 " I understand ! " replied the little girl, quite satisfied 
 now, and assuming a little air of importance ; " you will 
 be his Mama, and I his big sister. Oh, how nice ! 
 may I go and tell Claudius, and ask him what I can do 
 to amuse my little cousin ? " 
 
 "There is time enough, my good little girl."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 109 
 
 " Oh, but Claudius will be so pleased, may I go?" 
 
 " Certainly," and her mother handed her down gently, 
 but a new thought struck the child. 
 
 "Mama! what a pity you sent away my nurse 
 Concordia, she would have been so useful now that my 
 little cousin is coming." 
 
 " No, my child, you were growing too old for a Pagan 
 nurse, and Concordia was a constant hindrance to me, 
 owing to her great dislike to Christians." 
 
 " Yet her daughter, my foster sister Barbara, wishes 
 very much to be baptized." 
 
 " Oh Flora, what have you been doing ? " 
 
 " I have been instructing her. Mama ; indeed it was 
 not I that began, but Lucia, and she is so good, she must 
 be right." 
 
 " You must never speak of religion unless Claudius 
 or I be with you." 
 
 "But, Mama, Barbara will never, never tell, she is 
 so afraid of her parents, and besides Claudius was listen- 
 ing to us, while he was at work, very near." 
 
 " Oh, then, I am not uneasy. But see ! what a large 
 party of children that is, coming up the hill, they must 
 be on their way to see you, let us go and welcome 
 them." 
 
 Mora's young friends and playmates were frequently 
 in the habit of coming to spend the day in the pretty 
 gardens of Florentius' house on the Aventine hill, but, 
 on this occasion, they had sad news to announce ; 
 Agatha, their favourite companion, was about to leave 
 Eome.
 
 no Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " What a pity," cried Flora, " oh, where is she ? she is 
 not with you ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Lucia, " she came this morning to bid me 
 good-bye." 
 
 " She came to our house too," said Eufina and 
 Secunda, two sisters ; " she told us she would spend this 
 afternoon with you, and we came to meet her." 
 
 " Oh ! what shall we do without her ? " they all 
 repeated. 
 
 " She taught me to embroider," said Bibiana. 
 
 " And me to read," interposed Lucia. 
 
 "And she is so very, very good," continued Flora, 
 " and we all love her so much, that it is of no use to 
 think we can ever be happy again without her." 
 
 '' No ! never again ! " repeated the juvenile chorus. 
 
 Meanwhile the object of all this childish praise and 
 regret had passed into the house through the street 
 door, led by Martina, who, at Cecilia's death, had taken 
 charge of her, and kept her in her own home. They 
 now reached the garden, just in time to hear the 
 lamentations of the little circle. 
 
 Four years ago, Agatha was a lively, clever, impetuous 
 child, too headstrong for easy management, but Cecilia 
 had foreseen all the good that might come of that strong 
 will, if well directed. The child's parents Kved in 
 Sicily, they had come to Eome for a short stay, and, find- 
 ing the climate agreed with their child, much better than 
 that of her native island, they were glad to accept the 
 kind offer of their friend Cecilia, who proposed to them 
 to let Agatha remain with her for a year or two, until
 
 FLo7^a : the Roman Martyr, 1 1 1 
 
 the symptoms of childisli delicacy had passed away. 
 Family circumstances, however, had prevented her 
 parents returning to Eome as soon as they had intended, 
 and, since Cecilia's death, Agatha had remained as we 
 have seen in the charge of Martina. She was now nine 
 years old, a child of prayer and of grace ; her docility 
 corresponded to her early training ; there was a serious- 
 ness about her, and a slight degree of authority in her 
 manner which commanded respect without repelling 
 affection; her young companions looked up to her, and 
 no one of those older than herself ever made free with 
 her. 
 
 As she came forward now, her soft delicate features 
 bearing the traces of tears, they said, "You are also sorry 
 at leaving us, Agatha?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! but it is wrong to give way to sorrow when 
 I am going home, because it is the will of God," and a 
 strong effort repressed the rising tears, " indeed, I never 
 expected to have remained so long in Eome : but now, 
 my father has come as ambassador from Sicily to the 
 senate, and he is taking me back with him." 
 
 " Dear Agatha, what will become of you ? " 
 
 " What God wills ! I am thankful that my childhood 
 has passed here, in the city of St. Peter, where I have 
 learned to know my God. I have ever prayed to the 
 Apostle that he would choose for me the path which 
 would lead me most surely to Jesus, and, therefore, I 
 know I am safe. I was told, years ago, to trust in the 
 Apostle, for he would be near me in my sorrows, and 
 cure all my wounds."
 
 112 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Lady," she added, turning to Siona, " you remember 
 him who thus spoke to me, the noble stranger who was 
 a guest of Cecilia, and who, I heard, baptized Flora. 
 What became of him ? " 
 
 "Do not ask, my child, for men say that in his 
 wonderful writings he has fallen into error. For my- 
 self, I cannot believe it, for his was a noble nature, and 
 I do not think God could have abandoned him to him- 
 self; nevertheless, pray for him, that the Holy Spirit 
 whose temple he has ever been, may enlighten him to 
 the end." 
 
 Agatha joined her hands in prayer, and a deeper 
 sorrow passed over her pale face. 
 
 " Come, my dear children," broke in Martina, " you 
 must not unnerve Agatha who has made up her mind 
 to obey her parents cheerfully: let her carry away a 
 pleasing remembrance of you all." 
 
 They took her by the hand, and went over the garden 
 together, visiting their favourite nooks. JVIartina and 
 Siona remained alone, and fell into deep conversation. 
 The young Christian orphan told her friend of the con- 
 stant anxiety she lived in, how she had been asked for 
 in marriage, and she dreaded lest her refusal should 
 arouse suspicions as to her religion ; for it must appear 
 strange in the world's eyes that a lonely girl should 
 prefer to a wealthy and suitable alliance, the solitary 
 vigils, the loveless life of a recluse, the company of the 
 poor. 
 
 " I fear," she said, " lest Hippolytus, angry at my ap- 
 parent slight, should denounce me to the judge ; and,
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 113 
 
 though God forbid I should blush to confess my faith, 
 yet I know my extreme weakness, and I would fain put 
 off the day when it may please Jesus Christ to call me 
 before the tribunals." 
 
 "Although self-diffidence be a virtue, I am afraid you 
 carry it too far, Martina ; He who has promised to be a 
 Father to the orphan will stand by you; still, I should 
 advise you to leave your home for a time, for greater 
 security ; I am lonely in my husband's absence, will you 
 come and stay with us ? Flora's childish prattle will 
 divert your mind, for you are preying on past sorrows, 
 and now that you are losing Agatha, you must love my 
 child doubly." 
 
 The arrangement was accepted with equal pleasure 
 on both sides, and, after a few minutes' more conversa- 
 tion, they bent their steps towards an arbour where the 
 children had assembled. 
 
 " Look, Mama," exclaimed Flora in high glee. " Look 
 at what clever Claudius has done for us," and she showed 
 her a verdant canopy, constructed with branches of trees 
 interlaced; benches and seats were ranged in a circle, in 
 the centre of which was a table, whereon stood an urn. 
 The little girls had hastily put a band of purple round 
 their dresses in imitation of the Laticlavium.* 
 
 " What are you playing at ? " asked Siona. 
 
 " We are senators. Mama, and we are holding a 'pU- 
 liscitum, and Agatha is a general going to the wars, who 
 is bidding farewell to Piome, and promising to remain 
 
 * The distinctive mark of the Fathers of the Senate. 
 8
 
 114 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 victorious in the battle-field assigned her, and that is 
 the urn in which we all drop our keepsakes for her, and 
 each tries to prove that she loves her best.'" 
 
 " Poor children ! it is very kind of you, Agatha, to 
 enter into their innocent amusement." 
 
 " Nay, dear lady, my little friends are very thoiightf ul 
 and kind. Before long, perhaps, I may have to speak 
 before men, it is as well I should try in this little circle 
 words I may one day be called on to repeat before an 
 unmerciful judge." 
 
 She took the place they had assigned to her in the 
 midst of them, and, with an eloquence which, though 
 childish, thrilled the heart from its simple pathos, she 
 exposed to them what they had been taught in common 
 and endeavoured to practise together. She exhorted 
 them to love Jesus Christ above all, and promised them 
 in return, the rich reward of His imperishable love. 
 With her cheeks glowing, and her voice almost hushed 
 by depth of feeling, she told them of the glory there 
 was in dying for Him, and of her ardent hope that such 
 would be her portion^ If ever they heard she had been 
 called to the great strife, she told them not to mourn, 
 but to pray for her until that day had come to pass. 
 And then she spoke of Heaven, such as her innocent 
 mind could imagine it and best understand : of its 
 brightness, it glorious phalanx, its long unceasing songs 
 of unutterable love. She bade them all to meet her 
 there, and the young hearts accepted the solemn invi- 
 tation. 
 
 Then each went to the urn and dropped her offering.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 1 1 5 
 
 Flora collected them all, and brought them to Agatha. 
 They were not vain baubles, but such devotional memo- 
 rials as Christian children would treasure up and che- 
 rish : rings that had been steeped in the blood of mar- 
 tyrs, fragments of chains picked up from their prisons ; 
 there was also a fibula, being one of those long pins the 
 Roman ladies used to fasten their dress; this had an or- 
 nament in the shape of a little palm. 
 
 " That is my gift," said Flora smiling. 
 
 " Then I accept the happy augury," replied Agatha, 
 inserting the pin in the folds of her stole, " it shall not 
 leave me. Flora, until the lictor's hand tears it away." 
 
 And the word proved true, for no hand ever despoiled 
 the virgin of her white robes, until the cruel command 
 which, in the hour of her agony, added the insult of 
 public shame to the tortures of martyrdom. 
 
 She bid them good-bye and went her way, and they 
 saw her no more, but some years later they heard of her 
 triple victory over the world, over sin, and over death, 
 and not they alone, for, as long as time lasts, and the 
 Sacrifice of the Altar is offered up, the name of Agatha 
 shall be honoured, and the virgin's memory live in the 
 hearts of men.
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 THE short-lived Eoman winter had already come 
 to a close ; the sun's cheerful glow rested on the 
 golden-roofed temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and pene- 
 trated into the narrow streets of the Eternal City ; all 
 classes of citizens seemed to have revived with the 
 spring to the alacrity of business. In those days, and 
 among that people where so much of life was spent in 
 the open air, the streets offered a merry sight, and the 
 markets a rather disorderly display. It required a 
 practised step and firm nerves to walk through those 
 thoroughfares, where the 'plehs romana roamed in care- 
 less liberty, and raised their lusty voices, unfettered by 
 the restrictions of modern civilization. There, passed 
 the butcher, with different meats strung on a hoop, 
 which he held above his head ; here, a news-vendor 
 gathered crowds around him, detailing the accounts of 
 the revolution in Africa, how the Proconsul having pro- 
 nounced an unjust sentence upon some youths, these 
 had rebelled, assassinated him, revolted agrainst the 
 Ptoman Emperor, and compelled Gordianus to assume 
 the Eoman purple. 
 
 " No longer," exclaimed the speaker, " shall we, fellow- 
 citizens, tremble for our possessions, for our gods, for our 
 Senate ; the barbarian who esteemed the lives of Eoman 
 citizens as nothing, and coveted our wealth, is our
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, ny 
 
 Emperor no longer ! Gorclianus is a Eoman ; the pure 
 blood of the Gracchi flows in his veins ; with hira we 
 shall be restored to our old liberty. Let us, one and all, 
 go to the Senate House, and, urging the Conscript 
 Fathers to ratify this choice, let us implore them to 
 arise and repel Maximinus, who will doubtless come at 
 last to Eome, hoping to enslave us. On, on to the 
 Senate, citizens, and let us cry : ' Life to Gordianus ! 
 the inheritor of the virtues of Trajan ! '" 
 
 The self-elected orator moved forward, and many 
 followed in his train shouting. Hardly had he left the 
 place than a team of oxen, dragging heavy carts, full of 
 marble, just unladen at the Tiber's port, stepped leisurely 
 into the midst of the crowd ; many, trying to get out of 
 the way, were jammed up against the walls of houses, 
 scrambled into door-ways, and through windows. The 
 uproar attendant on this scene of confusion tripled the 
 noise, which seemed to have been at its height before ; 
 housewives came out screaming, a cry of " Thieves " 
 was raised which perhaps suggested to some the idea of 
 taking advantage of the moment to invade their neigh- 
 bours' property ; the howling of dogs, trodden under foot, 
 added to the din, and many vegetable stalls being over- 
 turned, the ground was soiled, slippery, and more than 
 one Eoman citizen tumbled down in the mud. 
 
 " Good day, Florentius," called out a young man, who, 
 carefully holding up his white toga, was endeavouring 
 to make his way safely through the scene of confusion. 
 " What would a stranger say were he to enter Eome on 
 one of these market davs ? "
 
 1 1 8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " I am afraid, Hippoly tus, he would think us fit 
 descendants of the robbers who first peopled the Lucus 
 Sacer ; look at that young knave," and he pointed out a 
 boy who, following a slave with a well-laden basket of 
 provisions, seized every favourable moment when the 
 latter stopped to make some purchase, and pilfered at 
 his ease. The rogue, however, met with his reward, for 
 just as he was plunging his hand once more into the 
 inviting cojphinus,* a sound blow on the back recalled 
 him to better manners, and looking up, he saw a man 
 in a patrician garb standing over him with a stick he 
 had just seized from the hand of an ox-driver. 
 
 " Begone ! " he cried, " is it thus slaves get punished 
 for not fulfilling their master's orders, while young 
 thieves like thee despoil them before they get home ? " 
 
 The boy skulked away to avoid a repetition of the 
 chastisement, but when he was safe beyond reach, he 
 turned round and showed a Eonian spirit in his rustic 
 pride : " May the evil eye fall on thee, stranger," he 
 cried, imitating the slightly foreign accent his fine ear 
 detected, " thou art no patrician, or thou wouldst not 
 strike a Roman citizen " ; and, running behind the 
 rostral column of the Forum, he was soon out of sight. 
 
 " Well done ! brother," exclaimed one of the lookers- 
 on ; " thou hast done thyself justice, but, hardly in time, 
 I fear, to save thy dinner." 
 
 " Ah, Hippolytus, I did not know you were so near 
 me. riorentius, I wish you a good day. Where are 
 you going together ? " 
 
 * Basket.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 119 
 
 " We have only just met \,\ accident," replied the 
 last named person. " I am on my way to the baths ; 
 and you, Adrias ? " 
 
 "I have a dinner party at home to-day, and thought I 
 would take a walk through the Forum Olitorium to see 
 that my cook got the best of everything, and I have just 
 saved the poor man from the clutches of a young thief." 
 
 " Come with us to the baths. You are over-excited 
 and require to cool yourself." 
 
 " Let us all go," interposed Hippolytus ; " come, Adrias, 
 and keep us company." 
 
 They went on their way together, passing between 
 the Grecostasis, a building of which three Corinthian 
 columns are still standing: it was used to receive 
 ambassadors before they were admitted to the senate. 
 Between it and the Senate house, known as the Curia, 
 ran the meridian : the friends stopped before it to ascer- 
 tain the hour, and then turned to the right, down the 
 road, which ran along the foot of the Palatine to the 
 Circus Maximus. A lowing of herds and the energetic 
 exclamations of their drivers told of their drawing near 
 to the Forum Boarium. 
 
 " I think I must be doomed to-day," cried Hippolytus, 
 "to meet with cattle; I don't think there were ever so 
 many oxen let loose in Eome as have crossed my path 
 since morning ! " 
 
 "Ha, is this a feast day with Hercules that he is 
 anointed and dressed in triumphant robes ? and offerings 
 are placed before the temple of Pudicitia Patria.* It 
 * The modern church of Santa Anastasia.
 
 I20 Flora : the Ro7nan Mm^tyr, 
 
 must be in thanksgiving for some victory we have 
 gained. Hail Hercules ! " 
 
 He put his hand to his lips, kissed it, and waved it to 
 the demigod; his brother followed his example, but 
 Florentius disdained to join in the act of adoration. 
 
 " How ! " exclaimed both the brothers at once, " what 
 religion do you profess ? " 
 
 "That of common sense and reason," replied the philo- 
 sopher, draping his toga closer about him, " it is only 
 custom, not conviction, that can make us adore a statue, 
 and I think it impious to sacrifice to a stupid custom." 
 
 " But where is your God, Florentius ? " 
 
 " Within me, I feel him in the divinity of my mind, 
 in my superiority of intellect, in an innate fortitude 
 which enables me to consider pain as no evil, and all 
 the ills that may attack this body as nothing, for life 
 and greatness and immortality come from within." 
 
 " You speak somewhat like a Christian, Florentius ! " 
 
 " The gods forbid ! Their chief died on a cross. I 
 follow the divine Plato, and believe like him in the 
 innate divinity of man. The world will neyer be 
 governed rightly unless a republic be formed upon his 
 laws. I'lotinus has planned to build a town in Cam- 
 pania, to be called Platonopolis in honour of the great 
 Master, where all who wish to live according to his 
 precepts shall assemble ; the project is about to be sub- 
 mitted to the emperor." 
 
 " To whom ? " asked Adrias, in a whisper, " for we do 
 not know at this hour the name of the emperor who 
 rules over us."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 121 
 
 They now reached the baths of Caracalla, well known 
 in our day by their magnificent ruins, and the treasures 
 of art that have been found in them. These buildiugs 
 occupied an immense space : the body of the edifice was 
 quadrilateral, comprising the different halls used for the 
 baths. This formed the centre of a vast area, which 
 was surrounded with walls, and, within these, were 
 gardens for exercise in fine weather, covered porticoes 
 and halls, dividing the rest of the enclosure. To the 
 south-east was the stadium, set apart for games, together 
 with the xystus and palestra ; to these were joined the 
 spoliarium where the bathers left their clothes and 
 received clean ones from their slaves ; the conisterium 
 where such as used the bath more for health than 
 luxury, were dried in sand ; the coryceum or sphcerris- 
 terium where they could play at ball, and the ephebeum 
 . f'-^r the exercises of young men only. Thus, these baths 
 were to a Eoman what modern clubs are in the present 
 day, for he was there supplied with amusement, occupa- 
 tion, conversation, news, he met his friends there and 
 discussed with them politics and private business. 
 Even dinner was provided at the Thermse, where the 
 idle part of the population spent almost the whole day 
 long. 
 
 " To which hall shall we go ? " asked Florentius, as, 
 passing through the garden where young men were 
 playing at games of strength, they made for the Laconi- 
 €um, being that part more exclusively appropriated to 
 bathing. 
 
 " Come here ! " called out a voice, which they recog-
 
 122 Flora : the Ro77tan Martyr. 
 
 nized as that of their friend Liicullus, and they entered 
 the unctuarium whence it proceeded ; the bather was 
 stretched on a bed ; one slave was bending his arms and 
 legs at every joint to restore pliability to the muscles, 
 another rubbed and thumped him to circulate the 
 blood, a third held ointments for the body, which 
 required much care and refreshment owing to the con- 
 tinual use of woollen garments next the skin, linen 
 being unknown in those days as an article of wearing 
 apparel; another held the white toga, another the 
 sandals with richly embossed silver thongs, and the 
 chalk with which to rub his master's legs and make 
 them look whiter, but not till another menial called 
 epulator had extracted every little hair. 
 
 " How I pity you I " cried Florentius laughing, as 
 standing a little distance from the victim of all these 
 attentions, he raised his hands with a gesture of dismay. 
 
 " And what do yoit come for, stoical philosopher ? " 
 asked the other in a voice rendered almost inaudible 
 under the vigorous exertions of his slaves. 
 
 " To be washed like a man in the haptistermm* or 
 to sit in the soliumf as fancy leads, but not to be 
 pounded, and have all my bones broken by bondsmen 
 whom you would at any other time punish severely for 
 laying a little finger on you." 
 
 " Florentius, were you born a Spartan ? " asked 
 Hippolytus. 
 
 " I have studied Greek philosophy." 
 
 " I am a Greek philosopher," cried Lucullus from his 
 * Public bath for swimming. t Bath for one person.
 
 Flora : the Roman Mainly r, 123 
 
 couch, "I follow the Epicurean system; let us live in 
 joy, ere we close our eyes in sorrow." 
 
 " Oh man of sense and flesh ! what do you do with 
 the noble faculties of your intellect ? with the strong 
 power to do and to suffer? Joy and pleasure are bad 
 teachers ; they weaken and destroy all that is noble 
 within us. Suffering is food for the soul, its purifying 
 element, the light of the mind, by which it sees clear 
 into life, into nature and her secrets. There is no 
 spectacle more worthy of the Gods than to see a good 
 man struggling with adversity." 
 
 " Pooh ! I would never struggle at all ; life is not 
 worth living if spent in struggling." 
 
 " And virtue ? " 
 
 " Is but a name ! " 
 
 " LucuUus ! you are not sceptical as you would make 
 us suppose ; you believe in virtue, and honour it in the 
 person of your wife." 
 
 " Well ! " replied the Epicurean, " I said just now 
 that virtue is a name, and she bears it. Yes, I believe 
 in her, and in many things besides — in the power of love, 
 the benefit of friendship, in the wearisomeness of wisdom 
 and philosophy, in the comfort of a bath. Farewell, 
 Florentius, lest I should vex you longer." 
 
 He was now ready and prepared to leave the Thermae, 
 followed by his numerous slaves. Adrias proceeded 
 to the sudationes or vapour bath, Florentius and 
 Hippolytus to the frigidarium. 
 
 " You are given to musing, to-day," observed the latter 
 to his friend.
 
 124 Flo7^a : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Do you believe in innate ideas ? " was the reply. 
 
 " In what ? " 
 
 " Do you believe that our minds receive impressions 
 through the channel of exterior objects, or by the 
 reflection of an interior world ? " 
 
 " Wait ! let me think — here is a good subject to re- 
 flect upon ; that group strikes my senses first, and then 
 stirs my heart." 
 
 They were just then descending a few steps leading 
 to another hall when they stopped before a gilt niche in 
 the wall ; there was a small enclosed area, below the 
 level of the marble pavement, and there stood the group 
 known as the immortal Laocoon.* It was always cus- 
 tomary to have a window openiug to the south in the 
 bath-rooms, and thus, the golden rays of the god of day 
 fell on the features of his own high-priest, the most 
 sublime representation of mortal agony, in which the 
 sculptor's art has idealized and made beautiful the con- 
 tortions of the sufiering human frame. It is difficult to 
 say wliich is the most striking of the figures of that 
 group, which is the most life-like in its acute suffering, 
 whether the father as, with upturned and reproachful 
 glance, he seems to call upon the gods he has served, 
 who have abandoned him in this, the hour of his 
 distress — there is something of a stern defiance too in 
 his brow, as, clenching the serpent he has just torn from 
 his eldest-born, he would, in his impotent despair, hurl 
 it back again against the heavens of whose vengeance it 
 
 * It is supposed, from some parts of the group being unfinished, 
 that it was meant to be view'ed from above.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 125 
 
 is an instrument ; or the children, whose writhing is 
 more of pain than of scorn, as they turn to their father 
 from whom they have been accustomed to seek protec- 
 tion and succour. How the fiery bite changes the cry on 
 their lips from an appeal to their parent to a shriek of 
 pain ! how the youthful breast seems to heave under 
 the cold marble ! how the looker-on feels his own pulse 
 throb, and his breathing oppressed, as he contemplates 
 and watches the serpents' folds, coiling closer and closer 
 around the manly frame and the childish forms ! And, 
 in that dread hour, how the dispositions of those youths 
 reveal themselves ; the eldest partakes of his father's 
 nature, the youngest has been moulded by his mother's love. 
 In the first, there is despair; in the second, the compas- 
 sionate eyes are fixed on his parent's suffering counten- 
 ance, and seem to find more anguish there than in the 
 monster's poisoning embrace. Death awaits them all : 
 but the eldest boy will die first, of the sheer torture of 
 physical pain ; the father will hardly wait till the ser- 
 pents have done their work, but his own vigorous arms 
 will close the final struggle, and the young son when he 
 has seen them both fall dead at his side, will drop down 
 over them, supported by love to the end. 
 
 Often and often visitors to the baths had passed be- 
 fore the Laocoon, but few lingered to study its beauty, 
 so accustomed were men in those days to see the works 
 of art strewed around them with the profusion of a 
 genius-gifted land, but Florentius and Hippolytus were 
 both inclined to muse to-day, and they stood long before 
 the marble group; Florentius studying whether physical
 
 126 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 paiu be an evil or not ? Hippolytns thought how power- 
 less is man against the decrees of fate I for there he was 
 himself, young, handsome,, seemingly favoured by the 
 gods and by fortune, and yet ! he alone knew of the 
 secret sting that disturbed his repose. How he had 
 placed all his hopes in an absorbing affection, which, 
 rejected, had recoiled upon himself, and stifling, poison- 
 ing, gnawing, like the serpent before him, clung to him, 
 and could not be shaken off. At last Florentius touched 
 him on the shoulder, " We are both dreaming," he said, 
 " let us go to bathe ". 
 
 They bent their steps to the tepidarium, which was con- 
 nected with the sudationes or vapour bath; it was very 
 high, being vaulted ; in the centre was suspended a chain 
 holding a concave bell which rose and fell, increasing or 
 diminishing the heat. The pavement and walls were 
 double; the upper floor being supported by little columns 
 of square bricks cemented with argile and chopped-up 
 horse-hair, because clay would not have sufficed to resist 
 the fire. Over this, was a layer of astramm, half-a-foot 
 deep, and above that, mosaic. All the pavements were 
 very beautiful, and finely executed, some of them repre- 
 sented subjects, with the same precision as a painting. 
 
 In the sudationes, stood a porphyry vase of such large 
 dimensions that, at the present day, it fills a room 
 adapted to it in the Vatican Museum ; beneath it, the 
 floor was of a beautiful design, and exquisitely coloured 
 mosaic, round which ran another pattern of less fine 
 workmanship, black and white ; representing Nereids, 
 Tritons, and sea-horses.
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 12? 
 
 " The labruni is private at tliis hour," observed Hippo- 
 lytus to his friend, " and I wish to speak to you alone." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, for your strange manner 
 puzzles me." 
 
 They went forthwith to the public bath, where por- 
 phyry seats, placed in the water, awaited those who 
 preferred sedentary bathing to swimming. 
 
 A pause ensued, and then the younger man, making 
 an effort, said : 
 
 "You are a philosopher, Elorentius, and must not 
 wonder if I disclose to you a state of mind far below 
 the heights in which you soar. In your science, in the 
 resources of magic which I believe you study, teach me 
 a remedy against the torments of love." 
 
 " Cold water and oblivion I " replied the other, play- 
 fully sprinkling his companion ; " use these and you will 
 soon be cured." 
 
 " I am beyond that, Florentius, my passion is of long 
 standing." 
 
 " Have you interested the parents of the maiden in 
 your suit ? " 
 
 " She is an orphan." 
 
 " But has she no guardians ? " 
 
 " She lived alone till a few months ago ; when, after 
 rejecting my suit, she disappeared mysteriously; I never 
 see her in any place of public resort, nor can I make out 
 where she resides." 
 
 " And what is her name ? I shall keep your secret." 
 
 " I do not like to mention it, but I know you will 
 not trifle with my sorrow ; you must know Martina ! "
 
 128 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 "Martina! yes, she is my wife's friend and guest. 
 She has been dwelling under my roof this last year: 
 during my absence, she cheered Siona who was lonely, 
 and, on my return, I asked her to continue to stay with 
 us." 
 
 " Is it possible ! have I indeed found her ! Can you 
 tell me who is my rival ? for she told me with a noble 
 frankness I admired while it pained me, that her heart 
 was taken up with another love." 
 
 " How can that be! she never sees any one; when she 
 goes out it is always in company with my wife, and 
 she always looks calm and happy as if she thought 
 of nothing but the duty of the present hour, just like 
 Siona." 
 
 Hippolytus relapsed into silence, and, when his 
 friend had finished his bath and began to dress, he 
 mechanically followed his example, w^alked out with 
 him, and, having accompanied him to the exterior 
 portico, awaited there the arrival of his brother. 
 
 Adrias was just' the opposite of the sentimental 
 Hippolytus: a plain, matter of fact citizen, interested in the 
 politics of his country, but still more in the good manage- 
 ment of his own private affairs : being a wealthy 
 merchant, he had realized a good fortune by trading in 
 corn with Sicily, and in oil with that part of Liguria 
 which, being sheltered by the Maritime Alps, produces 
 olives of a growth and quality unequalled in the Italian 
 Peninsula. Adrias had his tablets in hand as he joined 
 his friends, and was making up the arrears of a calcula- 
 tion.
 
 Flora : tJie Roman Martyr. 129 
 
 " Hippolytus," he said, "I have business to transact in 
 Lisjuria, but it is inconvenient for me to leave Eome at 
 present. Will you go on this journey in my stead? You 
 are falling into ill-health, and a trip will do you good." 
 
 " I cannot leave Eome." 
 
 " You ! who care for no amusement, no business, no 
 politics ! " 
 
 " I have an object in view, far more important than 
 business or amusement." 
 
 " I hope, brother, you are not a conspirator." 
 
 " Against whom or what ? I do not even know who 
 reigns over us at present." 
 
 " The wisest man in Eome is just as ignorant on that 
 point; Maximinus is expected to invade the empire: we 
 have known nothing of him but his tyranny, and the 
 senate has issued an edict for the citizens to arise and 
 repel him. Gordianus is recognised as sovereign, and 
 his son is associated to him, for the elected Emperor 
 pleaded his own great age, and wished for a younger 
 head and a more vigorous arm to sustain, with him, the 
 fatigues of the throne; but what is the use of my speak- 
 ing to you, brother, who are not listening to one word I 
 say?" 
 
 They were returning from the baths by another road 
 
 than that which they had taken on going there ; they 
 
 were now in the vicinity of the temple of Vesta, and the 
 
 priestesses were conveying to the Tiber the materials for 
 
 their sacrifices and their own robes to be cleansed. 
 
 They were veiled, as was customary for the virgin 
 
 votaries, but Hippolytus had been struck by the bearing 
 
 9
 
 130 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 
 
 and walk of one who preceded her companions by a few 
 paces : " How strange," he muttered, " were it not for the 
 information I derived from Florentius this very day, I 
 might have imagined " . . . . 
 
 * Have you lost your head ! " cried his brother, dragging 
 him away. " Why do you stare that way at the Vestal 
 Virgins ? come to my house, it is not safe for you to go 
 about alone. You must have been in the vines and 
 seen a wolf; you require a few grains of ellebore." * 
 
 So saying, he took him gently and persuasively by 
 the arm, and, avoiding to pass through the Forum, took 
 a long walk round the city walls. 
 
 • The sight of a wolf was supposed to bring on madness, against 
 which the herb ellebore was used as a remedy.
 
 CHAPTEE VIIL 
 
 " ~T~\ EOTHEE ! brother ! where is he ? where has he 
 J ) gone to ? " 
 
 And Flora, darting out of the house, ran all about the 
 garden, into every hiding-place she could think of ; at 
 first, she was half in play, but soon became anxious. 
 She came near a great pond which was railed in all 
 round — she had often fed the fish through the bars ; the 
 murrains were so good, they knew her as their little 
 mistress, but, since she had undertaken the care of her 
 little cousin, Laurentius, she never went near this place, 
 lest it should prove dangerous for him. But the sight 
 of the cold, transparent water eddying in circles round 
 the fish as they played, chilled her with horror. Where 
 could her little brother be? She leaned against the 
 railing, looked in ... . nothing ! She fell on 
 her knees, and, putting her hands before her eyes, she 
 prayed as she had been taught to do, earnestly, confidently, 
 to the God of little children and of pure hearts. 
 
 Presently, she heard her own name called upon; she 
 listened to hear the voice again, but did not wait long, 
 for a child's merry laugh sounded in her ears, and a 
 little boy ran up to her, tossing a many-coloured ball 
 before him, and exulting in innocent glee. 
 
 " Oh Laurentius," she cried, " where have you been ?
 
 132 Flora : the Roman JMartyr, 
 
 why did you run away ? you have frightened me so 
 much." 
 
 The little fellow was a fine, healthy-looking child, 
 contrasting with her delicate figure, but so strikingly 
 like her in feature, that they looked much more like 
 brother and sister than cousins. The same oval face, 
 the same handsome features, cast in the Jewish mould ; 
 the same eyes, soft, half-closed, slanting, and reflecting, 
 like those of Flora and her mother, something of that 
 unearthly Vision, that Immortal Beauty which had 
 been gazed on by their ancestor. If there was a destiny 
 written on Flora's brow, then Laurentius was like her, 
 a child of doom, and, as had been predicted, the Word, 
 spoken to the young man in the gospel, and the rejected 
 Call, must be fulfilled in them. 
 
 The little boy had now been a year in the house, and 
 endeared himself to all around him. Florentius revelled 
 in his infant intelligence, and declared " that child must 
 never go to school, but be formed by himself on Plato's 
 principles". Siona loved the orphan babe for her sister's 
 sake as well as her mvn, but Flora, who felt her import- 
 ance since she was the elder, delighted in taking care of 
 her little brother. Laurentius must learn everything 
 from her ; when he was first brought to the house he 
 could hardly walk, and it was beautiful to see the little 
 girl holding him by one hand while he clung to her 
 with the other ; she, meanwhile, encouraging his baby 
 efforts, singing to him, and soothing him when he cried. 
 She thought no longer of play, but inasmuch as it might 
 amuse Laurentius ; her little pets were neglected, and
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 133 
 
 she only resumed the care of her birds, when she found 
 it necessary to teach Laurentius to be kind to animals. 
 She seemed to have no will but his, and if her little 
 brother, as she called him, were pleased, she w^as 
 sufficiently rewarded. Had he proved a selfish, instead 
 of a wilful child, she could never have clung to him, but 
 the impetuous little boy, so passionate in his fancies, so 
 sorry and good when his trifling bursts of temper were 
 over, was the very nature suited to Flora's gentleness, 
 and she exercised a good influence over him. Child as 
 she was, the little girl had within her the germ of her 
 future womanly nature ; she could bear all but indiffer- 
 ence ; capable of great affections and heroic self-devotion, 
 she had that sensitiveness of feeling which would make 
 her hereafter turn away from such as did not under- 
 stand her, and take refuge in that One, Eternal Love, 
 alone capable of satisfying the cravings of her heart. 
 Go on your path, little children ! there is within you 
 the spark of a yet unkindled light, which will one day 
 shine before men ; go on, fearlessly, for a high destiny 
 awaits you, and a great seal is put upon you ! you are 
 marked out for the Most High. 
 
 Laurentius saw that his sister looked very serious, 
 and understood she was going to remonstrate with him 
 for running away, so, trying to look penitent, he flung 
 his arms round her. '' Don't ! " he cried, " I've been so 
 good ! " 
 
 " No, Laurentius ; you are not good when you disobey, 
 and, you know, Mama desired you were never to run 
 away so far as to be out of sight."
 
 134 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Oh, but I have been comforting a poor beggar." 
 
 " That was right, certainly. Was he asking for alms ? 
 where did you meet him ? " 
 
 " Down there, where the beehives used to be ; there 
 is a hole in the wall since they were pulled down, and 
 it is just high enough for me to reach, and big enough 
 to put my head through." 
 
 " Then it cannot be high or big either, you are such 
 a little fellow, but go on." 
 
 " Indeed ! but I am big ! The beggar said so." 
 
 " He was surely not in our garden ? " 
 
 " No ! but on the other side of the wall. He was 
 looking in, at the hole from the road, wasn't it odd ! 
 I said good-day to him, and asked him if he was 
 hungry, but he said he was ill, and unhappy, and 
 tired." 
 
 " I hope you did not talk too much ; if he was poor 
 he wants alms." 
 
 " I had a honey cake which Claudius had given me, 
 and I offered it to the beggar, but he only broke a piece 
 off', and returned it to me. He seems to be a very good 
 man, for he gave me this," and the child held up the 
 variegated ball he had just been rolling along. 
 
 " This is a mistake, Laurentius, the man you spoke 
 to must have been a weary traveller resting on the road; 
 beggars never give presents." 
 
 " Well ! he said he was very poor, and asked if Mar- 
 tina lived with us ; he wanted me to let him in, so that 
 he might see her walking in the garden ; he said he 
 would wait in a hiding-place till she passed, but I told
 
 Flo7^a : the Ro7nan Martyr, 135 
 
 him the door was well secured and I couldn't reach the 
 bolt ; I offered to call for Claudius." 
 
 ''And did you?" 
 
 " No ! for the man begged I would not ; he said all he 
 wanted was to see Martina, and asked me so much 
 about her ; what she did, and how she looked, and said 
 he had a message for her." 
 
 " Then we must go and tell all this to Martina, before 
 you forget what the beggar said." 
 
 Off they went, hand in hand, to the aula, or inner 
 court of the house, where Siona sat, weaving tapestry 
 with her friend. Flora explained all she had gathered 
 from her little brother's broken story; the little boy 
 being by this time quite taken up with his ball, which 
 rebounded beautifully. 
 
 " It must be," observed Siona, " a messenger sent to 
 you from the Pontiff, who, knowing this to be a Pagan's 
 house, did not venture in. To-morrow we will send 
 Claudius with the child, he shall introduce the beo^f]jar 
 who can then deliver his message safely; perhaps he 
 comes to warn you of some danger, or brings you orders 
 from Pope Lucius." 
 
 " That is very likely," observed Martina, who had of 
 late distributed the greater part of her fortune to the 
 poor, and held an important charge in the Christian 
 community. 
 
 They resumed their work ; but the children did not 
 leave them again, for this was the hour at which Flora 
 was accustomed to receive daily instruction from Mar- 
 tina, who, endeavouring to carry on the work begun by
 
 136 Flora : the Roma7t Martyr. 
 
 her lost friend Cecilia, loved to explain to little children 
 the lessons of Christ. Flora's little friends used to join 
 her on these occasions, and came regularly to share this 
 class of religious teaching, which was generally followed 
 by some quiet recreation. While they were expecting 
 their usual young visitors, and Flora was preparing 
 seats for them, they were surprised by the sudden 
 entrance of Lucia, one of the eldest ; she came alone, 
 her face was flushed and her eyes swollen with crying : 
 she ran up to Martina, hid her face in her bosom, and 
 sobbed out, 
 
 " Agatha has suffered martyrdom ! " * 
 
 All present uttered an exclamation of anguish. 
 
 " How have you heard this sorrowful, yet glad tidings," 
 asked Siona, " painful to our human affection, glad inas- 
 much as we are Christians?" 
 
 "Mama received this from Sicily," said the young 
 girl, drawing out a scroll of parchment she had kept 
 carefully concealed. " The Bishop of Catania, my 
 uncle, wrote out all the account of her trial and death." 
 
 " Mama sends it to you, that you may present it to 
 His Holiness to be preserved in the archives of the 
 Church. Oh dear, dear Agatha ! " 
 
 " How soon ! how very young she has been chosen 
 by God to give her life for Him," sighed Martina. " Let 
 
 * St. Agatha died in 254 a.d. : it is therefore an anachronism to 
 have placed her death at this part of our story. The writer tried 
 to change it, but finding that would entail the erasure of many 
 passages in preceding chapters, or the substitution of another 
 character, it was thought preferable to trust to the indulgence of 
 the reader.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 137 
 
 us wait till the other children arrive, we could not have 
 a more solemn lesson than this, let us read it all to- 
 gether." 
 
 Lucia sat on a low stool, while Flora put her arms 
 round her, and both wept bitterly, each trying to soothe 
 the other. 
 
 One by one the other children came in, and all looked 
 wondering and sorrowful at the sight of their com- 
 panions' grief. When all were assembled, Martina with 
 a falterinc^ voice told them what had befallen Agjatha 
 since she left them; how she had lived, modest and 
 retired, in her home, devoted to good works, under the 
 eye of a Christian mother and an unsuspecting father. 
 She then read the sequel of her life from the bishop's 
 narrativa She had been taken by her father to a 
 public entertainment, where her beauty and high rank 
 drew upon her the attention of the governor. Being 
 disappointed in his suit, and finding that she was a 
 Christian, he had ordered her to be torn from her home, 
 cast into prison, and brought before the tribunals. She 
 had offered herself up to God, and prayed for strength. 
 Then the narrative went on to say how she had been 
 placed for a month in the hands of a wretched woman, 
 and her virtue had conquered vice. Brought before the 
 judge, and questioned as to her birth and name, she 
 had proudly professed herself a Christian, refused to 
 sacrifice, and scoffed at the hideous pagan gods, so much 
 so, that the irritated governor condemned her to a tor- 
 ture lingering, cruel, slow, wounding alike her mortal 
 frame and her maidenly modesty. The most atrocious
 
 138 Flora : the Ro77ian Martyr. 
 
 sentence ever pronounced by one born of woman had 
 been passed on the young virgin, who, lacerated, bleed- 
 ing, yet living, was conducted back to her prison. One 
 had visited her there, one who in her childish dreams, 
 had promised to be with her always ; the great apostle, 
 head of Christ's church had appeared to the girl-con- 
 fessor of the faith, and her wounds had been healed by 
 St. Peter himself. She was again summoned before the 
 iniquitous judge, when, more impressive in her beauty, 
 since her features bore no trace of suffering, more firm 
 and almost commanding in her attitude, she had again 
 refused all overtures made by the cowardly tyrant, who, 
 crowning at the same time his cruelty and her glory, had 
 condemned her to be rolled on sharp stones, until, finally, 
 her head fell under the lictor's axe. 
 
 The account was lengthy ; it entered into the minute 
 details peculiar to the Acts of the Martyrs, which 
 serve, even in our own day, as glorious records of our 
 brethren in the faith. By the time Martina had con- 
 cluded, her youthful auditory were all in tears ; they 
 then knelt down and commended themselves to the 
 protection of her who had once been their companion, 
 and was now sitting at the Lord's right hand. 
 
 "Children," said their kind teacher at the close of 
 their prayer, " God has permitted us to hear the last act 
 of a pure life; it has pleased Him that this recital 
 should reach us for some good purpose. Perhaps, 
 Agatha has asked of her Heavenly Master that this 
 legacy of her love might be left us, that the fire 
 with which she burned for His glory may survive her
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 139 
 
 and be kindled in our hearts ; her example is a challenge 
 to us all ; are we likewise ready for the coming of the 
 Heavenly Bridegroom ? " 
 
 As she put the question, she rose from her seat, and 
 all the children with her ; amid the tears and sobs they 
 gave to the memory of their young friend, one answer 
 burst from all those girlish hearts. "Yes, with His 
 grace, we are ready ! " 
 
 But all eyes were fixed on her : she who was to pre- 
 cede them in the glorious strife stood among them with 
 upturned gaze and folded hands, and a triumphant 
 suiile was on her lips ; a foreshadowing of future glory 
 on her brow ; and then, she bowed her head and mur- 
 mured : " Even now, Lord ! " as if in answer to One 
 she alone had heard. Was it the voice of the Spirit and 
 the Bridegroom that say : Come ? 
 
 Some time elapsed until the conversation reassumed 
 a more calm tone, and at the usual hour the young 
 people took their leave : the day wore on. The next 
 morning, Martina, remembering what Flora had told her 
 about the inquiries of the man on the road, consulted 
 Siona as to what she had best do. 
 
 " I still think it is a messenger from the Supreme 
 Pontiff," replied the lady, "let us send Claudius to meet 
 him with the child who will recognise him. Claudius 
 will at once see whether the stranger be one of us, and 
 will lead him into the garden where you can speak with 
 him on the subject of his mission." 
 
 Accordingly Claudius went to the wall where little 
 Laurentius pointed out the hole which had attracted his
 
 140 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 attention : and the ladies sat down by the artificial lake, 
 awaiting the arrival of the mysterious visitor. He was 
 not long in making his appearance : clothed in tattered 
 garments, and leaning on a stick, he seemed to be a 
 decrepit old man, although he trod very lightly ; his 
 head was covered with a bandage, which partially con- 
 cealed his features, and he looked down on the ground. 
 
 " I am sorry to see," said Siona kindly, " that you 
 seem to have been wounded or hurt." 
 
 " Yes, Lady, I am suffering from a wound which 
 nothing can heal." 
 
 The sound of that voice made Martina start; she had 
 heard it before, but thought she must be mistaken, this 
 stranger looked such an object of compassion. 
 
 " I have been told your business is with me," she 
 said, "perhaps you seek for alms ? " 
 
 " I do ! I have been told you are kind to the needy." 
 
 " What can I do for you ? " 
 
 " One word from you can make me rich and the 
 happiest man in Eome." 
 
 " And what is that ? " 
 
 " Lady, I must speak to you alone." 
 
 " Whatever message you have to deliver, do so in the 
 presence of this lady, my valued friend." 
 
 " I cannot. I must then leave you, my mission un- 
 fulfilled." 
 
 Siona arose, and whispered to her, " I shall be near at 
 hand, call me if you feel uneasy ;" she then went away. 
 
 The moment the beirG^ar found himself alone with 
 Martina, he dropped his stick, let fall his tattered
 
 Flora : the Roinaii Martyr, 141 
 
 "penula^ which concealed a rich tunic beneath, tore off 
 the bandage from his head, and displayed the features 
 of her lover, Hippolytus. 
 
 " There is a treasure you can give," he cried, " and I 
 will prize the gift well. Have you, who are known for 
 your compassion, no affection to give me in return for 
 that I offer you once more ? Have I not been faithful 
 to you ? " 
 
 Surprise, fear, a passing movement of indignation, 
 compassion too, all were visible in Martina's counten- 
 ance. She did not call for any one, however ; a certain 
 delicacy forbade her disclosing the secret of a love 
 which had been so constant, and which she was bound 
 to reject. There was, besides, such sincerity in the 
 young man's tone, his handsome features were so worn 
 and altered, that she saw he had suffered much. 
 
 " Hippolytus," she said, with gentle reproachfulness, 
 " is this right ? to force your way by stealth into the 
 household whose hospitality I have accepted ; to lure 
 the little child of my guest, as if you were a thief seek- 
 ing for admission ? And you a patrician ! ! " 
 
 " A "piii^ dolus is always lawful in love and in war. 
 See you, I must ; I therefore invented the stratagem." 
 
 " Why importune me, when you have had my answer 
 already ? " 
 
 " You told me then that your heart was taken up 
 with another love, and that is not true." 
 
 " Martina has never uttered a falsehood," she replied. 
 
 " Pardon me ! but Florentius, whom I met at the 
 * Traveller's cloak.
 
 142 Flora : the Roman Mai^tyr. 
 
 baths, and who accidentally made known to me your 
 abode, assured me you received no suitor." 
 
 " He was right." 
 
 " Then how can you reconcile that ? Martina, I have 
 a right to know the truth from you ; I cannot support 
 this moral torture any longer. If you do not care for 
 me, at least clear yourself in my eyes ; let me not carry 
 away the painful impression that the woman I love so 
 truly, harbours thoughts and feelings she is ashamed to 
 acknowledge." Martina's lip quivered, and tears sprang 
 to her eyes ; she remained a few moments silent, com- 
 muning with herself, then said : " Your words are harsh, 
 but appearances are against me, I will speak to you as 
 you desire, truthfully, boldly. I will confide to your 
 Eoman honour a secret which must never transpire. I 
 ask you as a friend whom I trust, and whose esteem I 
 value, will you faithfully guard what I am going to 
 reveal ? " 
 
 " I swear ! " said the young man, *' by the . . . ." 
 
 " Hush ! " she interrupted, " your word is enough ! 
 invoke no false gods who cannot hear you. I am a 
 Christian ! aud the love I have refused you is given to 
 the One, Only, Invisible God ! " 
 
 Poor young man ! he could not have looked more 
 horrified had she confessed herself a murderess ; he 
 grew pale as death, then, averting his gaze from her, hid 
 his face and wept, bitter, passionate, yet manly tears. 
 
 " Why tell me this ? " he cried. " I had rather have 
 believed you cold, ungrateful, even deceitful, than a 
 criminal ! "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 143 
 
 "Hippolytns!" 
 
 " You, whom I had hoped to call my wife ! are you 
 indeed a member of that sect, whose crimes draw on 
 them the vengeance of the gods and of the immortal 
 emperors ? " 
 
 " Do you think I would have embraced their creed if 
 I knew as little of them as you do ? " 
 
 " They have worked upon you. You have been won 
 over by magical art." 
 
 " I have made use of my reason, withdrawn my 
 adoration from stocks and stones, and given it to One 
 Who is All Wise, All Good, the Author of Nature; 
 your Maker and mine." 
 
 " And yet the Christians commit great crimes." 
 
 "That is false!" 
 
 "Where then is this Invisible God, and how came 
 you to know Him ? " 
 
 " His Word is here," replied the maiden, reverently 
 taking a small roll of parchment from the folds of her 
 dress, and pressing it to her lips. "If, as I believe, 
 Hippolytus, you have regarded me with that feeling I 
 cannot respond to, then read here what is told by Luke 
 the Evangelist, and when you have learned to know 
 the Master I serve, you will not wonder that I prefer 
 Him to all the world can give." 
 
 He took the gift from her carelessly, his eyes still 
 fixed on her. " Is there no hope ? " he asked mourn- 
 fully, " no hope that time, reason, and years will alter 
 you ? " 
 
 "Does a soldier prove untrue to the colours he has
 
 144 Flora : the Roman MaiHyn^. 
 
 sworn to defend ? Does a Eonian heart belie its fides 
 data ? " 
 
 " Noble girl ! Then if your choice is irrevocable, 
 may you prove as invincible when called upon to 
 defend your faith, as you have been powerful now. 
 I had thought to win you, and I retire conquered." 
 
 " Farewell, Hippolytus ; seek me no more ! Think of 
 me but as one who sighs for your real happiness, who 
 dreams for you a fate far superior to the world's glory. 
 I will pray for you, Hippolytus, that your eyes may be 
 opened to the light which has shone on me ; that, pure 
 of soul and great in heart, you may tread the walks 
 of life with a higher end in view, and meet me one day 
 in another world." 
 
 " You mean in Elysium." 
 
 " No ! I speak of that future life which is eternal. 
 May the day come when you will understand it, till 
 then farewell ! If I see clear into the future, you may 
 hear of me as being called to choose between my God 
 and death. In that last hour when my soul, hovering 
 on the brink of another life, may fearlessly ask of the 
 Great Giver all I desire, then I shall bear your name 
 as a hallowed memory to the Eternal Throne, and hope 
 to be heard ! Farewell ! resume your disguise. I shall 
 send the slave to lead you away." 
 
 She waved her hand to him and passed on towards 
 the house. He remained as if riveted to the spot until 
 Claudius came, followed by the children, who were 
 continually under his faithful care. Flora looked 
 timidly at the beggar; Laurentius, proud of his ac-
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 145 
 
 quaintance of the day before, ran up to him to show 
 him his ball. 
 
 Hippolytus took him up in his arms, and kissed him, 
 exclaiming, "Beautiful child, mayest thou be happy, 
 ay, happier than I ! " 
 
 He set him down, and then, turning to the slave : 
 " I am ready," he said ; " let us go ! " and resuming his 
 stick and limping gait, he followed Claudius out of the 
 grounds. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 THE reign of the Gordians proved to be so short 
 that they never visited the capital of their vast 
 empire. Their accession had been greeted as the com- 
 mencement of an era of peace and justice, for the people 
 were worn out by the tyrannical cruelty of the bar- 
 barian Emperor Maximinus. The Eoman Senate confirmed 
 the choice of the people, but scarce six weeks had 
 elapsed since the new Caesars had assumed the Imperial 
 purple, when both father and son fell in battle. Maxi- 
 minus then turned his victorious arms against Rome 
 itself, and advanced to the frontiers to reconquer his 
 lost empire. The Senate met in great alarm, and held 
 a secret council, wherein, without appealing to the 
 people, without even the intervention of the Praetorian 
 guards, who had of late grown to exercise a despotic 
 sway, Balbinus and Pupienus were called to the supreme 
 command. Both were old men, but born in different 
 classes of life ; the former being the son of a cart-driver, 
 the latter a poet of illustrious birth. It seemed as if, 
 in this hour of danger, Rome was choosing her emperors 
 as she had once chosen her consuls, when, to satisfy 
 the people, she had named together a patrician and a 
 plebeian. The good fortune of the old republic had 
 not expired; for scarce was an army in the field and
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 147 
 
 the plan of the campaign organised, than victory had 
 already declared for Eome. The emperors marched to 
 Aquileia, which was invaded by Maximinus and his son ; 
 famine, disaffection, and despair alienated the tyrant's 
 soldiers from him : he was slain, together with the 
 younger Maximinus, and their heads, stuck on lances, 
 were brought to Eome. 
 
 But the triumph of the two old emperors was short 
 lived ; their interests were too separate, their education 
 had set them too far asunder for them to combine 
 their efforts for the welfare of the empire ; the people 
 had never loved them, and, in order to conciliate public 
 favour, they found themselves obliged to associate to 
 the purple a third Csesar, Gordian, grandson to the old 
 Gordianus. When Pupienus and Balbinus fell victims 
 to the jealousy of the Praetorian guards, who could never 
 forgive the emperors they had not elected themselves, 
 the people were quite unconcerned, and applauded the 
 accession of the young Gordian, who remained sole 
 emperor. The young sovereign put himself under the 
 guidance of Misitheus, his minister, who advised him 
 well in all matters tending to the good of the state. 
 
 And now persecution ceased for awhile; the Christians 
 breathed and came forth from their hiding places ; the 
 good news of the Gospel spread ; the daily business of 
 life went on, and the Pioman citizens hurried to their 
 pleasures, their affairs, their busy schemes, thus weaving 
 that intricate web of toil, hope and trouble, called life, 
 now and then mingled with pleasure, which the pagan 
 must needs seek from the cradle to the tomb, for there
 
 148 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 is nothing for him to look forward to beyond. Thus 
 the Eoman Empire pursued its course, rolling its mighty 
 waves to the great ocean of eternity, tossing in its 
 troubled waters and heedless course ruins of human 
 greatness and worldly riches, men's sighs and disap- 
 pointed ambitions and broken hearts. On, on it rolled 
 ) to the great ocean, where a Fisherman's bark awaited 
 to shelter its ruined grandeur and its living wreck! 
 and the waters dashed over that boat, but it rose with 
 their anger, and for as many as took refuge in it, it 
 expanded still more, until it grew high and deep, and 
 rooted in the soil : the waters struck again and again, 
 but in vain .... the boat had disappeared, in its 
 stead was .... a rock. 
 
 On sped the mighty Empire, like a colossus, big with 
 I the fate of nations, but carrying within itself the seeds 
 of corruption and decay which caused its ruin. And 
 thus, each day brought its wasted genius, its mistaken 
 glory, its useless misspent lives, a dreary waste of all 
 nature's gifts ! and brought them to false gods, gave them 
 with false hearts, swore them away with false lips, 
 devoted all their energies to the maintenance of a false- 
 hood ! How then could that structure stand ! 
 
 It was a morning in the autumn season ; the Tiber 
 had been swollen in the recent rains, and lazily rolled 
 its yellow waters, thick with the gold-coloured sand of 
 its neighbouring hills, under the Pons Sublicius, the 
 sacred bridge constructed of wood, without either bronze 
 or stone, built by Ancus Martins, which remained 
 for many centuries the only bridge on the Tiber. In
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 149 
 
 the distance, near the Meta Graecorum, where the 
 Pyramid of Caius Cestius rose by the wayside, maidens, 
 children, and peasants were trudging on gaily, laden 
 with the produce of the vintage, laughing as they picked 
 up the huge clusters of grapes which dropped from the 
 well filled carts. All was joy and gladness, the very 
 oxen seemed to share in the general glee, as the chil- 
 dren decked them with branches from the vine, and sang 
 and danced round them, screaming so lustily, that the 
 very air breathed a holiday. Farther on, in the fields of 
 the Roman people were to be heard the sounds of work 
 and hammering: there was shipbuilding going on, on 
 the site of what is now the Monte Testaccio, being a 
 hill formed entirely of broken potsherds. Thus, the 
 two streams followed the same direction, the yellow 
 Tiber below, and the human tide above : that bright 
 autumn morning saw many varied scenes ; all was not 
 joyful. 
 
 On the Aventine side of the Pons Sublicius stood 
 many a sacred shrine : the temple of Piety where the 
 fame of the Eoman daughter's memory has survived, 
 converting her father's prison into an edifice, sacred to 
 Filial Devotion ; the temple of Fortuna Virilis raised 
 by a conqueror in consequence of a vow, to the protect- 
 ing gods of Eome, rendered more striking from its having, 
 added a page to modern history, for here dwelt the last 
 of the Tribunes, Eienzi, who loved his country, not 
 wisely but too well ! 
 
 And here, too, stood the temple of Vesta, circular in 
 form ; eleven pillars supported the roof, in front was a
 
 150 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 court surrounded by porticoes, and around it a sacred 
 grove enclosed by walls. 
 
 Within these precincts, virgin priestesses guarded the 
 sacred fire, lit at Heaven's rays, which could never be 
 extinguished. They served the Mother of the Gods for 
 thirty years ; during the first ten they were novices, then 
 acting priestesses for ten more : the remainder of their 
 time of seclusion they employed in instructing their 
 younger sisters to whom they served as guardians. 
 After this long separation from the world, the hapless 
 votary might return to her former place in society, 
 might seek among her fellow-men a heart that would 
 take hers in exchange, but this was only nominal free- 
 dom. Blighted in her youth and early aspirations, after 
 consecrating her life to the perpetration of a falsehood, 
 despoiled of the charms of girlhood, yet feeling herself a 
 woman, what had the poor Vestal virgin to hope for, 
 who returned to her home ? had not life become a blank 
 to her, a dreary void, almost as dark as that stony vault 
 in the Campus Sceleratus, which awaited her had she 
 proved unfaithful to her vow ! 
 
 On this very morning, the space before the temple 
 witnessed a gathering together of patricians, for death 
 had left a void among the maiden priestesses, and lots 
 'were to be cast among the fairest and most noble of 
 Eome, for two young girls to fill up the ranks. Interest- 
 ing as was the sight of those children varying in age 
 from six to twelve, their delicate features and finely 
 formed hands and feet showing their patrician blood, it 
 was a melancholy, heart-rending scene ! The little
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 151 
 
 girls, some of whom were too young to understand their 
 doom, had been dressed as priestesses as a sign they 
 aspired to that rank; many a mother, however, had 
 adopted the disguise that it might veil the beauty of 
 her child, and thus preclude her from the awful destiny 
 reserved to her. The parents stood round them in a 
 circle, waiting the arrival of the priests and of the 
 emperor, who, as Supreme Pontiff, was to play a 
 prominent part in the approaching ceremony. One of 
 the mothers present gave free vent to her grief, notwith- 
 standing the remonstrances of her husband, a tribune, 
 who strove to give her courage : " Do not fear," he said, 
 " our girl is the oldest of those present, the lots cannot 
 fall on her." 
 
 "She wants but two days of twelve; that is the 
 appointed term, and do you not see how she surpasses 
 all in loveliness ; oh ! I fear she may be singled out." 
 
 " No ! I am not alarmed. But why is her beautiful 
 hair displayed on her neck, when the other girls wear 
 it simply braided ? that was not prudent ; why did you 
 allow it ? " 
 
 " Poor child ! she shuddered when I divided her hair 
 in six tresses as the vestals wear it ; she said it looked 
 as if she were doomed. Icilius is in the crowd ; she 
 knows his eyes are upon her, and she wishes to wear 
 her hair flov/ing, like an af&anced bride." 
 
 A friend came up to the poor mother and took her 
 hand affectionately — it was Siona. " T am sorry you 
 could not be exempted," she said, " I had hoped 
 Volumnia had attained her twelfth year."
 
 152 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Hail, Lady Siona ! " was the courteous salutation of 
 Nemesion the tribune ; " I did not think to meet you 
 here." 
 
 " I came solely for your sake. My little Flora had 
 heard from Volumnia of this dreaded event, and could 
 talk of nothing else. I wished very much to see you 
 and Paulina ; I feel for you." 
 
 " But you are a happy mother." 
 
 " Yes ! happy in this instance, that I am not of Eoman 
 birth, so that my child can never be called upon. But 
 your daughter is afiQanced. They cannot take her from 
 
 you." 
 
 " The gods are cruel ! " replied poor Paulina, in a 
 smothered voice. 
 
 " Is not Lucilla with you ? " asked Flora. 
 
 " There she is, close to Volumnia ; she clings to her 
 sister who has been so long the light of her sightless 
 eyes. Poor children ! they have ever been fondly 
 attached to each other." 
 
 " Will you make room for me ? " broke in Flora again ; 
 " I wish to see them." 
 
 The tribune made as if he would raise her in his arms. 
 
 " Oh no ! " she exclaimed, resenting the offer as an 
 offence to her dignity ; " do you think I am a little 
 child ? " 
 
 " Forgive me, dear one, for I love thee almost as much 
 as thy own father does. Here, thou canst stand upon 
 this pedestal, and be as tall as myself." He made room 
 for her and remained near, holding her up. 
 
 She could see all the circle of spectators, and the
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 153 
 
 young girls in the centre : among them, Yolumnia and 
 Lucilla. The latter was stone-blind, and a love, de- 
 voted, self-sacrificing on the one side, admiring, full of 
 faith on the other, united those two different natures. 
 Lucilla saw external nature through her sister's eyes ; 
 Volumnia's merry laugh had been her sunshine, her kind 
 affection the life of her soul, lur mind and thoughts the 
 vehicle to her own improvement and development. 
 They^ had gone through life hand in hand, and thus 
 they stood even now ; the blind girl leaning on her 
 lovely sister, listening for the approaching footsteps of 
 the priests who were to cast among the young maidens 
 the lot for the service of the goddess. Presently they 
 came from the temple, clothed with long flowing robes, 
 their brows bound with the golden fillet, their hands 
 still reeking from the sacrifice ; they were preceded by 
 Gordian, who performed as Emperor the part of Pontifex 
 Maximus ; he was veiled, as one who has been in 
 mysterious commune with the gods ; his right hand bore 
 the ^patena or small plate, where he was supposed to 
 have collected the vows of men in order to present them 
 to the deity ; his left hand held a small stick immersed 
 in ashes at the hearth of Vesta, wherewith he was to 
 point out the new votary. The youthful Emperor 
 passed into the circle of young girls, and his good heart 
 failed him as he thought of the fate to which he must 
 condemn those bright young creatures, many a one of 
 whom might have graced the throne at his side ; he saw 
 the anxious faces of the parents beyond, all bent on 
 him ; he felt sorry for the power entrusted to him, and
 
 154 Flora : the Roman Martyi^ 
 
 turned to the priest, as if he wished him to discharge 
 the office. The latter was occupied in deciphering the 
 scrolls, marked by the Fates ; he read out the tribe, 
 then the family, and lastly the very name of the girl on 
 whom the choice of the goddess had fallen ; there were 
 two, and one was Volumnia, daughter to the tribune 
 Nemesion. The girl remained erect and unflinching ; 
 her blind sister was carried away fainting, her mother 
 came up to her weeping, in an agony of grief, but 
 Volumnia was too concentrated to notice any one ; she 
 grew pale as death, and rigid as a stone. Only one 
 voice from the crowd had reached her, a cry from a 
 young man ; it was a cry of pain, powerful and deep, 
 like that of a wounded lion. The Emperor stood before 
 her, compassionate and full of sorrow ; the priests sur- 
 rounded her, and began to cut off her beautiful hair. 
 The poor mother had thrown herself at the feet of the 
 young Caesar, and conjured him, by his father's memory, 
 and his mother's love, to revoke the sentence. 
 
 " Alas ! that I could," replied the juvenile Augustus ; 
 " you know it is the gods, not I, that have pronounced. 
 Eather inspire courage to your daughter, whose firmness 
 at this hour shows her to be worthy of her destiny. 
 Amata," he continued, turning to Volumnia, "for this is 
 to be thy name henceforward, I take thee to be a priestess 
 of Vesta, and to perform the sacred rites, to do all that 
 is for the interest of the Eoman people and the Quirites. 
 Remember that the goddess has called thee to the honour 
 of serving her, and show thyself to be a Eoman ; weak 
 women like thee have gloried in that name, and fulfilled
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 155 
 
 the promises of their birthright. A girl-heroine," and 
 he pointed to the equestrian statue of Clelia, on the 
 opposite bank of the Tiber, "did and dared so much, that 
 she deserved that monument of her country's gratitude, 
 after having made Porsenna wonder at the courage of 
 Eome's daughters. Let her firmness be thine, as will 
 also be her glory. Called to guard the palladium of our 
 country, appointed to watch over the sacred fire to 
 which is attached the salvation of the empire, rejoice, 
 girl, that thy fate is linked with the Immortals, and, 
 rising superior to human weakness, forget the destiny of 
 the Eoinan matron, to glory in that of Vesta's priestess." 
 The girl had folded her hands on her bosom ; she 
 bowed her head under the veil they put on her, and 
 prepared to follow the priests, when the emperor's 
 paludamentum * was grasped by a firm, yet respectful, 
 hand. 
 
 " Caesar ! " exclaimed the stifled voice of a man strug- 
 gling to conceal his emotion. Gordianus turned to re- 
 cognise the young vestal's father. 
 
 '' Do not urge useless petitions upon me, Nemesion ; 
 I would have sought advice from your wisdom." 
 
 " No, Caesar ! a Eoman tribune does not need to be 
 reminded of his duty ; but, by the long services 1 have 
 rendered the state, grant me only this : let my child 
 spend this last day with her mother. I promise to con- 
 sign her myself to the gods this evening." 
 
 " Let it be as thou wishest, brave Nemesion ; do thou 
 encourage the young heart, and remind the noble girl of 
 * Imperial mantle.
 
 156 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 what Eoman virtue inspired to Curtius and to Decius. 
 Less is required of her." 
 
 " Nay, Caesar ! far more. They gave only their lives, 
 she immolates her heart. She is an af&anced bride, aud 
 must now sacrifice, not only her womanly happiness, 
 but the hopes of another who trusted in her." 
 
 The Emperor turned away, for his eyes were moist 
 with an emotion he tried to conceal; the tribune felt his 
 hands warm with the royal tears, and rose from his 
 knees. 
 
 " Thus have the gods and Eome decreed ! " said Gor- 
 dianus, and veiling his head again, he followed the pro- 
 cession back to the temple. 
 
 Volumnia remained, clasped in her mother's embrace. 
 Siona was taking care of the blind girl, when, suddenly, 
 she missed Flora, and looked round for her in alarm. 
 
 The little girl had remained standing on the pedestal 
 where her father had placed her; she was not looking on, 
 but trying to calm a young man, known to her as the 
 promised bridegroom of her friend Volumnia. 
 
 " You must not give way to passion, Icilius," said the 
 well-taught Christian child ; " look at Nemesion, how 
 good he is." 
 
 "Hark! what is that?" cried the youth. "They 
 have not taken her away ! The high priest is gone ! 
 The Emperor too, all gone ! They dare not touch her ! 
 I do!" 
 
 He dashed through all obstacles, pushing aside all 
 who stood in his way, and reaching the spot where Vo- 
 lumnia stood, tore the veil off her head before any one
 
 Flora : the Roman Mai4yr. 157 
 
 could prevent him, and made as if he would have taken 
 her away, crying out : " This is my affianced bride ! she 
 is mine ! " 
 
 At the sound of that voice, the only one Volumnia 
 had longed to hear in all that crowd, her firmness for- 
 sook her, she turned her lovely face to her betrothed, 
 her features relaxed, her lips quivered, and she burst 
 into a long, low wail. ^ 
 
 Her father laid his hand upon the shoulder of Icilius. 
 " For shame ! " he said, " respect the gods, thyself, and 
 her. And you, Volumnia, I had expected more firmness 
 from you." 
 
 " Behold ! " she said, and showed him how, in her 
 strong efi'orts to control herself, she had clasped her 
 arms so firmly that the nails entered the flesh, and left 
 an impression of livid marks and blood. " Behold ! you 
 told me not to weep, and I obeyed." 
 
 The soldier's brow relaxed with pity, then, making a 
 sign to his wife, " This place is too public, let us all go 
 away," he said. 
 
 " I will not away," cried Icilius, whose anguish 
 of mind amounted to something like frenzy. " You 
 swore to me before the gods, avengers of perjury, 
 that Volumnia should be mine. I claim your given 
 promise." 
 
 " Father," whispered the girl, " let him go home with 
 you, with us ; he will then grow composed." 
 
 He complied, took the youth's hand, holding it firmly, 
 gave the girl to her mother, and went on. Siona fol- 
 lowed them with Flora, a few steps behind. They pro-
 
 158 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 ceeded up the Aventine hill where the tribune Neme- 
 sion lived. 
 
 " Mother," asked Flora, " I see Volumnia is very un- 
 happy, but I do not quite understand why ? " 
 
 " To leave her parents and give up her betrothed is a 
 great sorrow, my child." 
 
 " But if God called me to leave you, and go to mar- 
 tyrdom, much as I love you I should go with joy, but I 
 would never be affianced." 
 
 "Because you are called to a higher destiny, my child. 
 Because an Immortal Love has taken possession of your 
 heart, childish though it be. ' Blessed are the pure of 
 heart, for they shall see God.' Poor Volumnia, on the 
 contrary, is condemned to serve false gods who can 
 never console, never reward her. To her, virginity, 
 instead of being as unto the Christian maiden, a pearl 
 of great price, cheaply purchased at the sacrifice of all 
 earth's joys, is but a fearful doom, debarring her from 
 all hopes of happiness in this life, for she has none be- 
 yond. Among my people too," here she lowered her 
 voice and spoke as if musing to herself, " it is considered 
 an ignominy to ignore the wife's and the mother's cares ; 
 and until She came. She whom all generations shall call 
 Blessed, it was not given to man to understand the 
 ineffable beauty of that single-hearted love, which 
 watcheth alone, like a sparrow on the house-top ; it 
 liveth alone, prayeth alone, dieth alone, and yet, joy 
 eternal is its theme, for a mysterious and solemn con- 
 tract hath been passed between that soul and its God." 
 
 Flora looked up wonderingly at her mother, who th
 
 Flora: the Ro7nan Alartyr, 159 
 
 remembered she was speaking in strains too lofty for 
 her little hearer: a poetess by nature, she was some- 
 times given to express her feelings with the oriental 
 imagery which had been familiar to her from childhood, 
 and the Jewish woman loved to dwell amid the 
 memories of her nation and of the Prophet-King. 
 
 They had reached the garden wall which enclosed 
 Nemesion's grounds ; slaves were awaiting their masters' 
 return, and came out to meet them: "Prepare the 
 tridmium for a banquet," ordered the tribune ; " let all 
 our neighbours be hastily summoned, let all our friends 
 come and rejoice ! " 
 
 The slaves concluded from the presence of Icilius, 
 their young mistress' suitor, this feast was in honour of 
 her approaching nuptials, but they wondered why every 
 countenance wore an expression of grief. Siona en- 
 deavoured to draw Icilius to her, but the youth was not 
 recognisable, so jBerce was his manner, so stern his 
 demeanour ; years seemed to have passed over him in 
 the last few hours, he had grown a man in mind, by one 
 of those revolutions which powerful feelings are apt to 
 bring about, when overworked, particularly at that age, 
 when the intellectual faculties, yet in all their freshness, 
 are more sensitive, when the chords of the young heart 
 vibrate more rapidly, and, like an instrument tightly 
 strung, shiver when weighed down by the pressure of a 
 rude, unskilful hand. 
 
 Volumnia had withdrawn with her mother, and Icilius 
 remained deaf to Siona's kind words till Flora, childlike 
 and confident, went up to him, took one of his hands,
 
 i6o Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 which was very cold, and, chafing it between hers 
 "Icilius," she said, "speak to my mother who loves you". 
 
 The innocent voice, the pressure of that little hand 
 overcame him ; he stooped over it, and kissed it respect- 
 fully ; she looked up at him, and saw tears in his eyes ; 
 she led him to her mother's side; the strong boy obeyed, 
 and looked almost bashful in his manly beauty as Siona 
 affectionately chid him. 
 
 " This must not be, m}^ son," she said, " forbear adding 
 to the sorrow which has already visited this house." 
 
 " But I love her, and she was to be mine in a few 
 days. Oh the cruel fates ! " 
 
 "You must bear your disappointment as a man, 
 Icilius, nothing can be done ! " 
 
 " Nothing to prevent, much to revenge." 
 
 Again his brow darkened, and again the child's touch 
 dispelled the passing gloom. 
 
 " I must see her," he resumed in a stifled voice, "let her 
 come to the garden, let her speak to me once more. Will 
 you be present, lest any blight should fall on her fair 
 name from a farewell interview with her betrothed. But 
 if I am not allowed to speak to her once more, I swear 
 by the infernal gods, you shall never see me again but 
 as a corpse ; I shall put an end to my life and my misery 
 this very night." 
 
 " Hush, unhappy boy ! you deserve your misfortune 
 if you cannot bear it better. Be calm, and I shall give 
 you the only consolation you crave, but you must retract 
 that fearful oath." 
 
 Icilius looked up at Siona, wondering at her power
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. i6i 
 
 over him. " I shall try to command myself," he 
 said. 
 
 She left him, taking away her own child, and soon 
 returned, holding Volumnia by the hand ; " I have 
 promised her parents," she said, " that this farewell will 
 be worthy of you both." 
 
 " We have known each other as long as we can re- 
 member," he said, in a heart-broken voice, but with a 
 struo-de to be firm. 
 
 There was such anguish in the young Vestal's counten- 
 ance that he saw it would be cruel and cowardly to 
 torture her with his own sufferings : his noble nature 
 was roused. 
 
 " When I followed you here," he said, " it was under 
 the impulse of passion. I meant to ask you to break 
 the bond that binds you to the altar and to fly with me ; 
 but now that I see you, I feel my respect for you is as 
 great as my love. Go, Volumnia, to guard the sacred 
 fire, while your youth and beauty waste away : as for me, 
 my life has no scope henceforward." 
 
 She saw by intuition the current his thoughts were 
 following, and felt it would depend on her to direct them 
 to a higher channel. 
 
 " Brave Icilius, turn all your energies to love our 
 country and promote Eome's glory." 
 
 " Our country ! " he repeated, and his countenance 
 wore a sinister look as he muttered, " our country is 
 enslaved, and wants an avenger 1 " 
 
 She was too much absorbed in her own efforts to heed 
 
 his interruption. 
 
 11
 
 1 62 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " I would have you submit nobly, and with that 
 virtue which heroes display in self-sacrifice. Esteem 
 me happy in that I am chosen to serve the gods. My 
 true friend, Siona, you see I have kept my word to my 
 father ; have I not spoken as becomes a soldier's child ? " 
 
 " J^obly, Volumnia ; and now come away, this scene 
 is too much for all of us. Icilius, bid her farewell ! " 
 
 " Take her," he said, " I cannot see her go ! " He put 
 one hand over his eyes, extended the other to her, 
 pressed hers lightly, and tore himself away, running as if 
 pursued. 
 
 By this time, numerous guests had gathered together, 
 and the hasty preparations for the feast were completed. 
 A dead calm had fallen over that desolate family, like 
 the lull in a tempest. The lessons on Eoman virtue 
 inculcated by Nemesion had sunk into the minds of all, 
 and each prepared to meet stoically the approaching 
 separation. Volumnia sat on her father's right at the 
 banquet, that place of honour she was never more to 
 fill ; praises were lavished on her, and the good wishes 
 of all accompanied her, when the shades of night com- 
 ing on apace, the tribune prepared to escort his daughter 
 himself, as he had promised the Emperor, to the temple 
 of Vesta. A covered lettiga was in readiness for her, 
 and all the guests accompanied her to the street door ; 
 but Lucilla, her blind sister, clung to her so passionately 
 that it was not without great difficulty she could be 
 induced to relax her hold. Little Flora was the last 
 Volumnia embraced, and in so doing, she whispered to 
 her:
 
 Floi^a : the Roman Martyr 163 
 
 " Wilt thou love Lucilla in my stead ? " 
 
 " Yes, I promise." 
 
 " Wilt thou come often to see her and speak to her of 
 that she cannot see ? " 
 
 " I will be a sister to her ! " 
 
 " And one thing more ! poor Icilius loves and obeys 
 thy mother ; tell her I leave him in her charge. " 
 
 " Do not fear. Would I could make thee happy." 
 
 But Volumnia and her father were gone out of sight, 
 and all the company dispersed towards their different 
 homes. 
 
 It was a moonlight night, and there was gladness in 
 the heavens, and a sensation of peace stole over all who 
 walked that night. On the Palatine Hill there was a 
 solemn stillness, and the guards who watched the Em- 
 peror's palace could hear the echo of their own footsteps 
 fall on the air. Once in the midst of the dead silence, 
 the trees were swayed as if by a sudden rush of wind, 
 and a dark form seemed to be crouching on the grass, 
 but when the sentries challenged it, it vanished. They 
 thought the evil genius of the Emperor must have come 
 there in a spiritual shape, and disappeared, unwilling to 
 be seen by mortal eye ; but as they listened, they heard 
 a sound of stones rolling down the hill, and, as it seemed 
 to them, of rushing waters : and a voice whispering, yet 
 deep-toned, echoed round about; it had uttered the 
 word : Eevenge !
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 ELEVEN years have passed over Claudius, fehe 
 slave, since we first introduced him to the 
 reader, and asfain he stands on the brow of the hill of 
 Aricia, on a fine summer evening, as we first saw him 
 looking out on the Campagna and on distant Eome. 
 Eleven years ! he recalls the events of that far-off time ; 
 the retrospective vision is pleasant; he can look back 
 on a life chequered with good deeds. On such a night, 
 he had opened the way of Divine Truth to the inquiring 
 mind of Siona ; shortly after, he had stood sponsor to 
 her innocent child ; both mother and daughter were now 
 numbered among the choicest of God's flock. Had he 
 done this, and could he rejoice ? Not he, but his 
 Master through him. He bowed his head, folded his 
 hands in prayer, and as he gazed on the sun-gilt clouds, 
 it was almost as if he bid them take his thankfulness to 
 the Almighty Throne ! Eleven years ! yet his brow was 
 hardly wrinkled, his hair had nothing of the silvery 
 touch of time, his step was elastic yet, his courage was 
 still that of the warrior, subdued by Christian virtue. 
 And, at this hour, his manly frame seemed endowed 
 with something like the vigour of youth, for joy, that 
 renovator of the human faculties, that strengthener 
 alike of the sinking heart and decaying frame — joy, that
 
 Flora : the Roma7i Mm^tyr, 165 
 
 potent elixir which steeps the mind and body of man in 
 a second youth, the healer and the life-giver, had been 
 poured into the heart of Claudius to overflowing. His 
 master, in acknowledgment of his long and devoted 
 services, had that very day given him his liberty ; he 
 was no longer a slave ! What wonder, then, that the sky 
 seemed to him more beautiful, and Heaven's canopy 
 more extended ? that the atmosphere, balmy with earth's 
 fraojrance, seemed to breathe to him like Britain's air of 
 liberty, that he should linger in that sunset, w^hich had 
 been so often the witness of his trials, and whose return- 
 ing orb was henceforth to rise upon his freedom ! 
 
 That very morning, a joyous procession had set out 
 from Florentius' house in Eome, towards the Forum, 
 where, according to Eoman law, the act of enfrancliise- 
 ment of a slave must be performed before a magistrate. 
 Florentius and Siona were both present, and Claudius, 
 walkincf before them, wore for the last time the o-arb of 
 a slave, and the 'pileus or cap of liberty. All the other 
 household slaves followed in order, all rejoicing in his 
 good fortune. Florentius taking him by the hand, 
 declared he manumitted Claudius, who was henceforth 
 to bear the name of his master united to his own. Then 
 a little stroke from the rod of the magistrate had con- 
 firmed the sentence, and Claudius Florentius was a free 
 man. 
 
 It had been previously arranged by his kind masters 
 that the day of Claudius' enfranchisement was to be 
 held a holiday both in Ptome and at their country house 
 in Aricia, an entertainment beino; mven to the slaves in
 
 1 66 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 both places ; but as Claudius must of necessity be present, 
 he first presided at the slaves' early dinner in town, and 
 then set out for Aricia in his|inaster's open chariot. 
 Laurentius and Flora asked to go out to the country 
 house with their old friend, there to await their parents 
 who were to join them in the evening. The afternoon 
 passed very pleasantly, and they sat down to table as it 
 was growing dusk ; there was plenty [of good cheer at 
 supper, and Claudius took care that all his old comrades 
 should enjoy themselves within the bounds of order; 
 they loved him, and were so anxious to please him, that 
 they all tried to show him theirjjrespect by observing a 
 cheerful decorum. When they had nearly done, he left 
 them, saying he wished to be on the look-out for his 
 master's arrival, and it was just at this juncture that 
 we find him, standing on the hill, where presently 
 Laurentius and Flora came to join him. The little boy, 
 full of fun, stole behind him, pulling down his new toga, 
 the distinctive mark of a Eoman citizen which he had 
 that day put on for the first time. 
 
 " How handsome you look to-night, Claudius ! " 
 
 "Oh, Laurentius," interrupted Flora, "Claudius is not 
 a bit changed ; he was just as great before God as a 
 slave." 
 
 " Dear little mistress, my heart has so clung to you 
 and yours, that the thought of leaving you diminishes 
 my joy at being free." 
 
 " And could you not stay, Claudius? you are a Eoman 
 now." 
 
 " Nay, lady ; the Briton never forgets his birthright.
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 167 
 
 and I have left those in my cottage home who mourn 
 their absent sire and lord." 
 
 " But we could send them word to come. My father 
 would dispatch a messenger." 
 
 " My home is like the eagle's nest on Albion's high 
 cliffs; the footfall of the stranger must not cross my 
 threshold or discover it." 
 
 " But it is so long since you left it, do you think they 
 remember you ? " 
 
 A pang shot through the man's heart which told upon 
 his features; she was sorry she had caused it, and 
 kindly took his hand. 
 
 " All earth's joys are unstable and fleet," he replied, 
 after a moment's pause, " yet there are affections that 
 endure persistingly. The heart that cast its lot with 
 mine in the days of youth has never forgotten me, no 
 more than you, my dear young Domina, can ever pass 
 from the memory of your faithful old slave." 
 
 " But will you come back, Claudius 1 " cried the boy, 
 " that is what I want to know." 
 
 " Even as He wills ! " w^as the answer, and Claudius 
 raised his eyes to where the sun was fast sinking in the 
 west, and his own brow grew illumined with the reful- 
 gent rays. 
 
 " Oh, what can we ever do without you ? " continued 
 Laurentius, " you have taught us so many things, and 
 you know such beautiful stories, and you can talk about 
 God just as mama does." 
 
 " Then, children, will you remember the humble 
 lessons of the poor slave ; will you often repeat a prayer
 
 1 68 Fior'a : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 which was the first pronounced over you, Flora, by the 
 Saint and Martyr who answered for your baptismal 
 innocence before God, the last which she uttered when 
 she lay before us in the agonies of a protracted death." 
 
 Both the boy and girl clasped their hands in prayer 
 and repeated together : " Fiat cor meum et corpus 
 meuDi inimaculatum ut non confundar ". 
 
 A cloud of dust on the road, and the noise of chariot 
 wheels, told of the arrival of those they expected ; 
 Claudius immediately sumraoned the slaves from the 
 house to welcome their masters, whom they went to 
 meet in a body. Florentius, pleased with the happy 
 faces and cordial reception he met with on all sides, 
 went on with Laurentius and Flora. Siona beckoned 
 to Claudius to remain behind with her. 
 
 " I have been waiting this opportunity," said the lady, 
 " to express to you all my heart-felt gratitude for your 
 many and valued ser\ices. Under God, I owe every- 
 thing to you, Claudius, and you know full well, that had 
 it depended on me alone, you should not have waited so 
 long for your liberty." 
 
 " The Lord willed my slavery for His glory ; the 
 Lord has this day broken my bonds, I will lift up to 
 Him a sacrifice of praise." 
 
 They had now reached the Lararium, which still re- 
 tained that name, although, since the visit of Origen, 
 it had been despoiled of pagan gods ; a ^few busts were 
 there, but simply as objects of honour, not of idolatry ; 
 the likeness of the Emperor, and of those teachers of the 
 human mind who ranked most high in Florentius' esteem.
 
 Flora : the Roman Marf^^. 169 
 
 " Let me welcome you as a Eoman citizen on the 
 threshold of my house," he said to Claudius, embracing 
 him as he came up, and Laurentius put his arms, too, 
 round the old slave's neck, for the tenth time at least 
 since morning ; when the latter, raising his little master 
 from the ground, and, holding him high above his 
 head : 
 
 " May every happiness be thine," he cried, " noble 
 heir of this house, mayest thou rise superior to thy 
 fellow-men, not only by exterior greatness, bat still 
 more through the intrinsic worth of thy mind and heart ; 
 may thy life be honoured, and, when thy career is run, 
 may thy friends have reason to bless Heaven that thou 
 hast lived." 
 
 The grateful augury pleased them all \ Siona and her 
 daughter, who knew the high purport of his good 
 wishes, exchanged a happy look of intelligence, and 
 they proceeded together to the aida or inner court. 
 
 " Now," said Florentius to Claudius, " what will you 
 do with your liberty ? " 
 
 " My master is over-good to express an interest in 
 his valueless slave. I wish I could give the remainder 
 of my days to the service of this noble house, but I 
 have left those in Britain who are ever expecting me, I 
 must go to them. I have found in Eome relations of 
 mine who hold intercourse with the governor of Britain, 
 and I am assured that my wife and son still live." 
 
 "Thou shalt go to them then, and thy boy must 
 become a Eoman soldier." 
 
 " I expect to find him a sturdy Briton, very much
 
 170 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 averse from leaving his native land, — but as to myself, I 
 must ask your advice about my journey. I have not 
 thought yet, my lord, of the mode of travelling so 
 far." 
 
 " But / have," replied Florentius, " for I half suspected 
 thou wouldst pine for thy native land, when free. My 
 friend Adrias is sending next month a ship to Liguria, 
 laden with divers goods ; he seeks for one to take charge 
 of his cargo, one who can keep accounts, and transact 
 business in his name. I spoke of thee, of thy talents 
 and trustworthiness ; he will gladly employ thee, and, 
 in return for thy services, will recommend thee to 
 another trader who will convey thee to Britain, either 
 by land or sea, for he constantly visits those islands for 
 the commerce of tin." 
 
 " My dear master, I could not have expected less 
 from your long-tried bounty, and yet I feel as overjoyed 
 as if this were the first benefit I receive at your hands, 
 instead of the last." 
 
 " No ! no ! we have not done with each other yet, 
 Claudius ; we shall meet again. Thou must go to- 
 morrow morning to Adrias, and see with him how thou 
 canst serve him best. Now, go in with the children ; I 
 shall take a walk in the garden with the lady 
 Siona." 
 
 Florentius took his wife's hand, and led her to the 
 farthest end of the flower-garden ; he looked at her a 
 little without speaking, for he was afraid of hurting her 
 feelings by what he meant to propose, and he was 
 warmly attached to her.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 171 
 
 " The gods have not sent us a son ; I think it is time 
 I should adopt Laurentius." 
 
 "My lord and dear husband, I had always looked for- 
 ward to my little nephew becoming the child of your 
 adoption, and have trained him in the dutiful spirit of 
 an affectionate son." 
 
 " Indeed you have ! There are not in all Eome two 
 other children like ours, they are as faultless as they 
 are beautiful, they have grown up like brother and 
 sister, and there is a strong family likeness between 
 them. I am sorry to see Laurentius looks rather deli- 
 cate ; he has grown rapidly of late, perhaps that is the 
 cause." 
 
 " Yes ! but besides that, he has been suffering from 
 intermittent fever, and the best remedy for that is to 
 remove him from Eoman air for some time." 
 
 Florentius resumed : " Our friend Adrias mentioned to 
 me, only yesterday, that his wife, Paulina, likewise was 
 much debilitated from the effects of the malaria, but she 
 recovered completely from going to pass a season in 
 Liguria. There is a Eoman colony called Cimella, 
 which she speaks of as the choicest spot on earth, where 
 a gentle people, highly civilised, dwell in a valley se- 
 cluded alike from the winter's blast and the sun's rays, 
 where the fruits of the Hesperides grow all the year 
 round, where flowers bloom without culture, and happi- 
 ness is inhaled with the air they breathe." 
 
 " Paulina has been describing the Elysian fields ; I 
 cannot believe that such a place exists in reality," re- 
 plied Siona.
 
 172 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " She is returning there this year, according to her 
 husband's wishes, and one of the duties of Claudius on 
 the journey is to attend to her. Suppose you join them, 
 go with the children to this beautiful Cimella, and I 
 shall come to meet you there later." 
 
 " Oh, Florentius ! I have never left home yet, I can- 
 not travel without you." 
 
 " But I shall follow you soon. A long absence from 
 Eome would injure my interests, for nothing goes on 
 well away from the master's eye. I must moreover 
 look out for another villicus now we have lost Claudius ; 
 it will be long before I can replace so valuable a servant 
 as he has been." 
 
 " I must do as you tell me, Florentius," she answered, 
 " but you never put my obedience to so severe a test 
 before." 
 
 " You will please me greatly, Siona, by going ; the 
 health of the children and yours will benefit by the 
 change, and, at the same time, I shall enjoy the going 
 to fetch you later. Shall I tell the children and see 
 how they like the idea ? " 
 
 " They will always like what you choose for them." 
 
 The little people were summoned, and expressed their 
 exuberant joy at the good news. 
 
 " Oh, how nice ! " cried little Laurentius, clapping his 
 hands ; " how charming to go on the sea as generals do, 
 and when they come back their names are put on a ros- 
 tral column." 
 
 " Bright little scholar ! " exclaimed the delighted 
 father. " You know nothing of life but what you learn
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 173 
 
 out of your books ; I want you to open your eyes to 
 what is practical, it is better for you to have a long 
 holiday and to get big and strong." 
 
 " Man's strength is here," said the little fellow, touch- 
 ing his forehead ; " fortitude is developed in his head and 
 heart." 
 
 " Well answered ! Who taught thee that clever 
 speech ?" 
 
 Laurentius turned his loving eyes on his adopted 
 mother, then on Flora, and hesitated. 
 
 " I intend to initiate thee myself into philosophy. Let 
 us see whether thou hast any turn that way. What is 
 life?" 
 
 "A school in which we learn wisdom; a season during 
 which we sow what we are to reap later." 
 
 " Better and better ! One would think thy little 
 head carried a system of its own." 
 
 " Flora and I often talk of these things," said the 
 chHd. 
 
 " Flora too ! well, she would not be her father's child 
 if she had not picked up some notions of philosophy. I 
 must take her in hand too, and make an Aspasia of her. 
 Well, little daughter, canst thou answer me what is 
 death ? " 
 
 " The hour of man's liberty," replied the girl boldly, 
 preserving in her words, as she had been taught by her 
 mother, the exact distinction between her father's notions 
 and the Christian doctrines. " Death is the end of one 
 life and the opening to another ; the soul survives the 
 body."
 
 1 74 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " Capitally reasoned ! I shall take you both to study 
 with me next year ; but, for the present, you must have 
 the amusement that suits your age. It is time to go in- 
 doors, the dew is falling ; run on, children." 
 
 He turned to his wife, and said in a low voice : " I 
 thank you, Siona, for making me so happy and proud of 
 those dear ones ; all praise is due to your good training. 
 I shall proceed to prepare the act of Laurentius' adop- 
 tion, so as to sign it before you set out on this journey." 
 
 By this time they had reached the house, which they 
 entered together.
 
 CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 " A ND must it be so, dear Martina, must you leave 
 £~\ us, and go to live in your solitary home ? " 
 " Yes, Flora ! now that your mother is leaving Rome, 
 I cannot remain under your roof ; but trifling circum- 
 stances are only links in the chain of events prepared by 
 Providence. I feel warned that my hour is nigh." 
 " My beloved instructress, do not frighten me ! " 
 " Flora ! what do you fear ? what have you learned 
 from me if not to rejoice that Christ will be glorified in 
 another martyr ; must we not accomplish what is want- 
 ing to the Passion of Jesus ? Take courage and do not 
 mourn for me, for I must claim your services in that 
 dread hour." 
 
 " Oh, tell me ! what can I do for you ? " 
 " You were a child, hardly capable of understanding 
 what passed around you, when I took you in my arms 
 to be witness to Cecilia's death; you were signed with 
 her martyr's blood ; she foretold to me that you would 
 be my joy in life and my comfort in death. Will you 
 fulfil the latter part of the prediction even as you have 
 the first, Flora ? " 
 
 " My dear mistress, you speak solemnly, as if we were 
 never to meet again ; oh, then, give me some parting 
 advice ; I have treasured up all your lessons."
 
 176 Flora : the Rommi Martyr. 
 
 " Pursue your duties, Flora, until the hour when the 
 Bridegroom comes to claim you for His own. Your life 
 will not be fulfilled until you have accomplished all the 
 work your Heavenly Father has given you to do. I 
 need not ask, my child, whether your heart is fixed on 
 God alone for your portion, for I believe He has chosen 
 you, and that your lot is not cast with the children of 
 men. Therefore if you are sought for later " 
 
 " Oh no ! no ! " interrupted Flora, covering her face 
 with her hands. 
 
 "Do not think, dear one, I would wilfully offend your 
 modesty. ' But I wish to caution you, for, even after I 
 had vowed my virginity to Christ, I was obliged to pain 
 a noble heart that had offered me its affection and would 
 fain have linked its lot with mine. May my prayers 
 and my death profit him ! If ever you meet one who 
 inquires after me, tell him that in my last hour I 
 implored for him Heaven's best boon. And you, Flora, 
 watch and pray ever ! may the oil of good deeds fill your 
 lamp ! may it be preserved from the storms and blasts of 
 the world, from the foulness of sin, from the wavering of 
 temptation, for a voice will be heard in the dead of 
 night, saying : ' He is at hand ! ' and then it will be your 
 turn to arise and go forth to meet Him, not indeed in 
 joy and festivity, but through suffering, and sorrow, and 
 persecution unto death ; you shall go to Him a Martyr 
 Bride!" 
 
 She laid her hands on the young head that was bowed 
 before her, and as when Elias covered his servant 
 with his mantle, the spirit of the one passed into the
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 177 
 
 other, Martina left behind her a faithful inheritor of 
 her virtues and good deeds. 
 
 Thus they parted, and the orphan patrician maiden 
 returned to the house which she had inhabited alone, 
 since her parents' death, and which she had deserted for 
 the last year to dwell with Siona. 
 
 The Emperor was absent from Eome, and the 
 Prsefect, usurping a power beyond his authority, having 
 been made aware of the return of the young Christian 
 who excited suspicion by her abundant alms to the poor, 
 ordered her to be arrested and brought before the 
 tribunals. The lonely life she was accustomed to gave 
 her an intrepid assurance wdiich somewhat awed her 
 judges ; they did not address her in the usual interroga- 
 tory form, her faith was known ; they put her to the 
 test at once, ordering her to sacrifice to the gods. 
 Horrified at the impious proposal, she disdained to 
 reply, and, with a gesture of scorn, bid them remove 
 her from the presence of the hated idols. 
 
 " Are you then a Christian ? " she was asked. 
 " I am, as my life hitherto hath sufficiently proved." 
 They condemned her to be tortured with iron hooks 
 driven into her sides. A glow of indignation passed over 
 her patrician features : who was she to be thus igno- 
 miniously treated ? and then she turned deadly pale ; 
 for, as she had previously said of herself, hers was the 
 patience that abideth, not the courage that resisteth. 
 Her woman's gentleness quailed under the fear of tor- 
 ments, and she trembled, even as One had done before 
 
 her at the approach of death, yet He was mightier than 
 
 12
 
 178 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 she. It was but a moment ! crowds pressed round her, and 
 in their ranks she saw a young girl, conducted by an 
 elderly man ; the eyes of both were fixed on her with 
 intense anxiety ; she saw, and, stretching out her arms 
 even as He Whom she had chosen as the model of her 
 life^ she made use of His words, and said firmly : In 
 flagellis parata sum. 
 
 They took her away to the torture room, where, after 
 undergoing the shame of flagellation, she lay quivering 
 and moaning on the floor. Suddenly a mysterious 
 strength seemed to be conferred on her, for she arose of 
 herself, put on her robes, and bid them do their worst. 
 She was placed on the rack, iron hooks were again 
 applied to her sides, and they tore her flesh as the wild 
 beast fastens on its prey ; but the brave spirit grew 
 stronger with the torment. Her eyes, open to celestial 
 visions, saw nothing of the fiendish forms that sur- 
 rounded her ; a smile lit up her countenance, and, when 
 she fainted away, it seemed to be less from the excru- 
 ciating pain than because He who stood by her in her 
 agony had disappeared, and her spirit had passed away 
 with Him. They loosened her from her bonds, they 
 took her, senseless as she was, to the Mamertine prison ; 
 they let her down from story to story until the lowest 
 depth ; there they left her, to die as she would 1 But 
 it was not so ! she awoke ! feeling that an invigorating 
 coolness had spread over her heated frame ; she thought 
 her wounds had been bathed in a cool stream, and the 
 same pleasant moisture refreshed her throbbing temples 
 . . . . She looked up ... . above her was
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 179 
 
 a dark vault, perforated by an opening in the centre, 
 through which she had been let down ; by degrees her 
 eyes got acustomed to the darkness, her spirits revived, 
 and she could distinguish the large blocks of travertine 
 forming the well-built walls. She raised herself a little, 
 and found that, close to her head, there gurgled a small 
 fountain, springing from the ground ; she recognised it 
 all now, for the place was familiar to her, she had some- 
 times gone there to visit her suffering brethren, and 
 often to venerate the traces left by the Apostle St. Peter, 
 incarcerated likewise within its dread precincts. How 
 the poor suffering girl rejoiced that she had the glory of 
 being associated with him in the hour of her trial. 
 That spring ! she knew it well ! it had sprung up at the 
 command of the Saint who had baptized his gaolers 
 with the water. It was an object of great devotion 
 among the Christians, whose piety attributed to it a 
 healing power, even as the Scriptures say "that the 
 very garments of the apostles cured the sick who 
 touched them". She knew too that in the prison above 
 her was a staircase which St. Peter had trod, and when 
 the inhumanity of his gaolers had pushed him down, 
 and made him fall, he had left upon the wall the exact 
 representation of his features sunk into the volcanic 
 tufa, more ably than if engraved by a sculptor's chisel.* 
 All these reminiscences passed over her mind like a 
 sweet dream, for she was weak from suffering, her 
 limbs refused to do their office, and, after vainly en- 
 
 * To be Been yet in the Mamertine prison.
 
 i8o Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 deavouring to rise, she turned her head a little on one 
 side and lay still. 
 
 Eeturning consciousness had brought back the sense 
 of pain, and she could not sleep. Her eyes remained 
 fixed with an inexplicable persistence on a fissure in the 
 wall where the stones did not meet exactly ; she thought 
 she saw the crevice increase .... it grew wider 
 and wider .... she closed her eyes to remove 
 the delusion .... but there it was still .... 
 the stone moved .... a hand appeared .... 
 then another .... a small delicate hand this 
 time .... she was terrified with a nameless 
 fear, but there were gigantic efforts behind that stone 
 . . . . it yielded .... leaving an aperture 
 through which a man's head appeared .... the 
 features seemed familiar to her, but she did not look at 
 them long ! He withdrew, and she saw what seemed 
 to be a vision .... a young girl, crawling on 
 her hands and knees, glided through that opening, a 
 little boy followed her .... they came, one on 
 each side of the martyr, stooped over her, and, in accents 
 which thrilled her with joy : " Martina ! " they cried, 
 " have we come in time ; are you still alive ? " 
 
 " Flora, Laurentius," she said, in the same suppressed 
 tones, " my dear children, is it indeed you ? " 
 
 "We have many things to restore you; let us help you." 
 
 While the little boy held a glass of wine to the lips 
 of the sufferer, the girl, with gentle hand, washed her 
 wounds and bound her lacerated arms and feet in fine 
 linen cloths ; she also applied to her poor friend a per-
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. i8i 
 
 fumed ointment which at once softened the sore 
 festering flesh, and restored vigour to the contracted 
 muscles. Wlien this was done, the man came out of 
 his hiding place ; he brought a soft carpet on which 
 they gently laid her, and then Flora, passing her arm 
 under her shoulders, so as to rest her head, 
 
 " Are you better ? " she asked. 
 
 " I am so happy ! Oh my poor children .... 
 explain to me, how is this ? " 
 
 " Did you not tell me," said Flora, " that Cecilia, my 
 sainted godmother, foretold I should be your joy in life 
 and your comfort in death ? Did I not promise to fulfil 
 the trust ? " 
 
 " But this prison is so inaccessible ! how have you 
 come ? " 
 
 " I made Claudius be on the watch for the day when 
 you should appear before the tribunals, and I went with 
 him. You saw us." 
 
 " I did, and I thanked God ; I felt you were praying 
 for me." 
 
 " And God heard us. Claudius found you were con- 
 veyed here; he told me he knew of a secret passage 
 which had been partially blocked up, but which the 
 early Christians used when they endeavoured to establish 
 a communication with St. Peter in this very prison. 
 The entrance is in a house at the foot of the hill ; 
 fortunately, it belongs to Christians, and they keep the 
 secret right well. We are quite safe, and I thank God 
 I have found you, but oh ! how changed ! " 
 
 " From death to life, dear child, and when this poor
 
 1 82 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 body shall have put on immortality, then shall death be 
 swallowed up in victory." 
 
 " And what will they do with you, Martina ? " 
 
 " Perhaps they may leave me to die here ; or, if they 
 find me living still, they may take me away again to 
 renew the combat unto death." 
 
 " Oh, if you would consent to something ! " 
 
 " To what ? " 
 
 " Through that passage, Claudius could convey you 
 away gently and safely; and when your persecutors 
 came, they would find your prison empty, just as it was 
 with St. Peter when an Angel came and broke his 
 chains." 
 
 " And when, like unto the apostle rebuked by his 
 Master, I meet my Crucified Lord upon the road, shall I 
 too say to Him Domine, quo vadis? Shall I not 
 know rather that He comes to reproach the faithless one 
 who could not wait her doom ! Oh, blessed is the faith- 
 ful servant who, when his Master comes, shall be found 
 watching." 
 
 " You know best, dear Martina ; I have learned all 
 from you." 
 
 "You must not stay longer, dear child, my gaolers 
 might surprise us. Go, think of your parents." 
 
 " Claudius is watching, he will call us if he hear any 
 noise." 
 
 " I must give you a message before I leave you." 
 
 " From whom ? " 
 
 "You told me that if one inquired about you from 
 me "
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr, 183 
 
 " I remember ! Have you seen him ? and where ? " 
 
 " On the Via Appia, we were going to the Catacombs, 
 Claudius, Laurentius, and I ; a stranger came up and 
 made himself known as having come to our house a year 
 ago, disguised as a mendicant." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " Poor young man ! he spoke of you with anguish and 
 deep feeling. He said he had mingled in the crowd 
 when you were led to the tribunal, had never lost sight 
 of you, remaining outside the torture room, and watch- 
 ing for the sound of your voice. That day, he said, a 
 new life had burst forth within him, the sight of your 
 constancy had opened his understanding to words you 
 had spoken to him long ago ; he felt a thirst for truth, 
 he wished to be instructed and to know your God. He 
 has passed the days and nights since your trial on the 
 Via Appia, sleeping in a cave. He asked me to teach 
 him a Christian prayer, and implored of me to procure 
 some one who would instruct and prepare him for 
 baptism." 
 
 " Oh my God, my God," cried the young martyr, 
 " Thou hast promised an hundredfold to those who leave 
 all for Thee, and dost Thou reward me, who have as yet 
 done nothing ? " 
 
 " Then he gave me," continued Flora, " a message for 
 you." 
 
 " Do not deliver it, my child, lest it should disturb the 
 calm serenity of this hour." 
 
 " Nay, Martina, I have promised ! and T must repeat 
 to you his words which were most solemn. He desired
 
 184 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 me tell you he was quite another man, that a holier love 
 had quenched his early passion, that an image, mysterious 
 as yet, and hardly intelligible, of the God you adore, had 
 taken possession of his heart and effaced all thought of 
 the world. He detached a palm branch from a tree 
 that o-rew by the roadside, and, cutting it in two, desired 
 me bear you this half, as a presage of the martyr's glory 
 that awaits you, and of that he asks you to obtain for 
 him. 'Thus,' he said, 'will she recognise me when she 
 sees me in another life, bearing a symbol like unto hers 
 and taking my place at her side. There perhaps a 
 union superior to what the heart of man can conceive, 
 absorbing souls in a Divine Essence, may yet blend the 
 spirits of Hippolytus and Martina.' " 
 
 The martyr raised her feeble arm to receive the token, 
 and placed it on her heart. " Tell him ! " she said, " I 
 have accepted and will bear with me to the last this 
 symbol of a faith which has triumphed over earthly pas- 
 sion. And now, leave me, I entreat of you both. Lauren- 
 tius, if I have spoken less to you, 'tis because Flora has 
 been more my companion, but God knows, dear child, 
 how I have loved you too ; how I have prayed that your 
 impetuous nature may lead you to great deeds, and I 
 have felt, oh, how truly, that my prayer was heard. Go, 
 my dear ones ; Claudius, take them away, and, for the 
 good this visit has done me, I thank my God, them, and 
 you." 
 
 Again they offered her some nourishment such as she 
 could take in her weak condition, and, promising to 
 return the next day, they left as they had come, by the
 
 Flora : the Ro77ian Martyr. 185 
 
 secret passage, Claudius setting the stone into its proper 
 place, and drawing it after them, so as effectually to 
 avoid detection. 
 
 The next day came, but their suffering friend did not 
 require them tlure ; men had come and taken her away, 
 and exposed her poor lacerated body to the flames. But 
 God saw she had done enough for His Glory, and His 
 mighty arm stretched over the fire, and bid it leave her 
 scatheless ! And it was so ! The flames arose, and 
 wreathed round her, and glided over her garments, and 
 covered her with a veil of light ; and again they settled 
 over her head, and her brow seemed resplendent with a 
 crown of glory. She lived on, and many of the by- 
 standers falling down, adored her God. 
 
 At length the judges accused her of being a sorceress, 
 and of commanding the elements by the arts of magic. 
 They got afraid of her, and ordered her head to be cut 
 off. The sentence was to be executed the next day, for 
 they dreaded some new prodigy, and would not take her 
 life in presence of the people, already won by her 
 beauty, her sufferings and her fortitude. They hurried 
 her back to her prison, but she was left on the upper 
 floor, for the convenience of the executioners. Claudius, 
 according to the desire of his young mistress, had 
 followed the noble Martina in every stage of her passion, 
 reporting all he witnessed. Now, however, he was at 
 fault, he could find no access to Martina, though he 
 offered money to the guards ; they had received un- 
 usually strict orders which they dared not infringe. 
 The night passed, and found the faithful man watching
 
 1 86 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 by those walls, aiding, by his prayers, the soul within, 
 separated from eternity but by a few hours ; he was 
 not alone ! other brethren came in the shadows of night 
 and mingled their orisons, even as a loving family round 
 the death-bed of an expiring member. Once, Claudius 
 thought he heard a groan near him ; it came from a 
 man's breast, and revealed an immense woe ! he 
 addressed some words of comfort to the sufferer, 
 who suddenly raised his head. " I recognise your 
 voice," he said, " as all that is connected with her; you 
 guided me to her presence in the garden of Florentius' 
 house, and I met you too on the Via Appia with the 
 lady Flora." 
 
 " Yes, that is my dear young mistress, the intimate 
 friend of the holy Martina." 
 
 " Will you then finish the good work she began, and 
 teach me how to be a Christian, for, as much as lies in 
 my power, I believe." 
 
 And truly the compact was made, and acted upon at 
 once, for in those solemn hours of loving vigil, while the 
 soul of Martina was hovering on eternity, and offering 
 up her sufferings as the incense of intercession, Hippoly- 
 tus felt the effects of that anticipated sacrifice, that 
 blood which was to be offered for him. In the solemn 
 silence of that night, he hearkened to one who, no longer 
 a slave, was endowed with sufficient instruction to en- 
 lighten the young patrician, and liberate his enslaved 
 soul. Hippolytus pressed his lips to the prison walls, 
 not because they enclosed one dear to him, but because 
 the sufferings of Christians had hallowed them, and the
 
 Flora : the Rommi Martyr. 187 
 
 redeeming sign of Christ's passion was in many places 
 marked thereon.* 
 
 Towards morning, long before sunrise, while most of 
 the Eoman citizens were yet asleep, a powerful commo- 
 tion shook the soil, and made houses tremble to their 
 very foundation. Men started up and asked each other 
 with exceeding great fear w^hat had happened. The 
 faithful who lingered round the Mamertine prison did not 
 feel it ; other edifices round about them gave signs of a 
 perilous deviation. Those walls alone which sheltered 
 the martyr remained immovable, and they understood 
 by the prodigy that God had rendered glorious the last 
 hour of their sister, that she had triumphed even in 
 death. Men had willed that her execution should be 
 private, and thus it was revealed to the world ! The 
 guards fled frightened, the lictor issued from the scene 
 of his bloody work with all the signs of terrified horror, 
 the gates were left open, and the Christians rushed in. 
 Claudius did not follow them, for he had promised his 
 young mistress he would warn her when it was time to 
 fulfil the last duties to her friend's remains, and he 
 turned his steps homewards. Flora was on the watch, 
 and when she saw him approach, she knew the hour 
 was come, and stole quietly out. Not a word passed 
 between them, they proceeded silently as to the per- 
 formance of a religious duty. They reached the gloomy 
 abode, she gave her hand to her faithful attendant, and 
 consigning to him a parcel, wrapped in a linen cloth, 
 which she had kept under her stola, proceeded down 
 * From the Acts of the Martyrs.
 
 1 88 Flora .- the Roina^i Martyr, 
 
 the stairs with faltering steps. She trembled violently 
 as she reached the door and saw by the crowd of people 
 kneeling there that she need go no further. Claudius 
 was obliged to support her and bid her take courage to the 
 end. The bystanders moved away, ranging themselves 
 on either side to let her pass ; she covered her face with 
 her hands and went in, but for some time she was afraid 
 to look up. By and by, however, the holy calmness 
 that stole over her, the perfume with which she felt the 
 atmosphere impregnated, the impression of the place 
 which partook of the solemnity of a sanctuary, all con- 
 tributed to soothe her, and still kneeling she opened her 
 eyes. Oh the peaceful majesty of that brow, unruffled 
 by the death-stroke, the rich locks which still encircled 
 the forehead, unrestrained by the fillet, the tranquil 
 beauty of those unclosed eyes, which seemed to await 
 her hand to seal them in death ! The neck was severed 
 from the body, but not, as she had feared to see it, 
 bathed in blood. No ! for from that corpse, which had 
 lived an unearthly life, never tainted by sin or unholy 
 temptations, gushed a stream unlike that which flows 
 from other dead ! That pure body which, long since, 
 had ceased to live for self, emitted a milk-white fluid, 
 spotless as its life had been, emblematical of innocence. 
 Overawed at the portent. Flora gazed long and lovingly 
 at the beloved dead, then called to her aid the Christian 
 women she recognised among those who surrounded her, 
 but she herself wrapped the head in a fine linen cloth, 
 filling it with odoriferous spices, and laid it in the dish 
 she had brought with her, according to the desire ex-
 
 Flora : the Ro77ian Afartyr. 189 
 
 pressed long ago by her that was gone. They consulted 
 together whether they could convey the body to the 
 Catacombs, but the concourse of people, the broad day- 
 light, the fear of being foUow^ed and of disclosing the 
 Christian place of worship, all seemed to render the 
 transport of the dear remains inadvisable. They re- 
 solved to bury her in the garden of her own house. 
 While they were debating there came among the Chris- 
 tians a young man whom no one recognised ; he knelt 
 before the martyr, and laid on the body a broken palm 
 branch which he took up again, and carefully wrapped 
 up in the folds of his toga on his breast. He ap- 
 proached Claudius, whispered to him, and those two 
 between them raised the bier on which lay the maiden ; 
 they bore her out, ^vhile others followed and prayed, 
 strewing flowers as for a triumph. The home she had 
 lived in was close at hand, at the foot of the Capitoline 
 hill ; they took her to its small lonely garden, where an 
 obscure grotto had often witnessed her silent medita- 
 tions and the outpourings of her soul before God, there 
 they effectually concealed her, and laid a heavy stone 
 before the door. By and by, those who had followed 
 her there dispersed, and there remained but a poor man, 
 a young girl, and a youth, who, with bowed head and 
 outstretched arms, uttered and repeated again and again 
 his first Christian prayer. 
 
 A considerable time elapsed, and then Claudius told 
 his young mistress they must not stay any longer. The 
 young man heard them, and turning round : " Do not 
 leave me/' he said, " you have both done much for me.
 
 190 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 I require more from you still. Will you lead me to the 
 priests of your religion ? I have loved the world, but 
 at this tomb I vow to it an eternal hatred henceforward ; 
 men shall hear of Hippolytus but as of one already dead, 
 one who possessed riches and cast them away, fame and 
 honour, and scorned them. My home, from this day, 
 shall be near the tombs, and living the life of Him 
 Whose Crucified Death you have told me of, I shall 
 prepare, like Him, to rise again ; for, henceforward, I 
 believe in the Eesurrection of the Dead, and in Life 
 Everlasting. Amen." 
 
 They parted as those who have been suddenly linked 
 in a great sorrow and a great love. He went his way, 
 but Claudius sought him again in a few days, and led 
 him to those on whom power had been conferred by the 
 Most High for the salvation of souls. Flora did not 
 recover the shock of Martina's martyrdom ; she had 
 nerved herself to the task of assisting her poor friend 
 to the end, but her health suffered in consequence, and 
 Siona was now glad to avail herself of her husband's 
 offer, and made speedy preparations to remove her 
 daughter from the scene of such painful events. They 
 left Eome for Liguria.
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THERE is in the rusli of waters a mysterious 
 influence, akin to a hidden sympathy within the 
 heart of man. It is the voice of nature which har- 
 monizes the most with the human soul, and oh ! how it 
 varies and takes the tone of our thoughts. Sometimes 
 a rude hand has touched the chords of our feelings 
 which vibrate to sorrow, and we listen to the long, low 
 wail of the mountain torrent as it swells with the 
 waters of its troubled bosom, even as our hearts with 
 tears. Sometimes it is the voice of hope, which whispers 
 high, and we hearken to the hushed murmur of the 
 surge, as it comes sweeping along the sands, masical in 
 its rising accents, like an evening breeze, and lo ! it has 
 broken, and the retiring sound tells of disappointment 
 and vanished dreams! Again, we seek the sea-girt 
 shore when a struggle is at hand, and we feel our weak 
 nature unequal to the contest ; the clouds are lowering 
 on the horizon, and there is an under-current which 
 impels the billows, and sends them foaming to our feet ; 
 they beat against the rocks, raising their crested heads, 
 and come on like giants of strength moving to the 
 battle ! they toss, they fight, until, like defeated warriors, 
 roUing one over the other, they sink on the watery
 
 192 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 plain, and, expiring, cover the shore with spray. The 
 sun is sinking on the scene, in crimson-coloured clouds, 
 and the electric exhalations, flashing from beneath them, 
 tell of a troubled morrow ; yet, there is an invigorating 
 influence in that atmosphere, an irresistible attraction in 
 the wild howling of those waves, terrible as a battle-cry, 
 jand the heart that has sought their strange solace does 
 not leave them as it came. 
 
 " I hope my dear lady is better," said Claudius, as he 
 followed the steps of Flora along the sea shore, at about 
 two miles from Cimella, where they were staying at 
 present. The good, faithful attendant watched the 
 colour returning to her pale cheek, while her brother, at 
 no great distance, scrambled among the rocks, looking 
 for coral. 
 
 "Yes, Claudius, I thank you. I am glad, I came 
 out, though I did not like to leave my mother alone." 
 
 " My dear mistress, you will forgive me for remark- 
 ing that I have observed a great sadness steal over you 
 every day at the same hour. I, who have known from 
 my very childhood the salutary effects of sea-air, 
 requested the lady Siona to send you out as much as 
 possible. When your physical strength is restored, the 
 melancholy which has taken so strange a hold of you 
 will give way." 
 
 " Claudius, I see you have guessed at the cause of my 
 suffering, which I know to be imagination, but cannot 
 overcome. That scene in the Mamertine prison comes 
 before me each day, at a fixed hour ; even now when I 
 looked into the water, I saw it reflected there."
 
 Flora : the Roman Alarty7\ 193 
 
 " Oh, how I reproach myself with having allowed you 
 to exert yourself beyond your strength." 
 
 " Oh ! Claudius, rejoice rather that you helped me to 
 fulfil the charge she herself confided to me. Must I not 
 too prepare to endure more, and greater perhaps ? Did 
 she not prophesy to me that my lot will be a happy 
 one, but purchased at the same price as she paid.? Jesus 
 Christ has chosen me for His Martyr Bride." 
 
 " Flora, do not brood over the sorrowful past, nor the 
 uncertain future; leave both in the hands of your 
 Heavenly Father, Who knows what is best for us all " 
 
 " You are right ! but who can be a Pioman and not 
 live with the past? There is something in Eome's 
 gTeatness which depresses the spirits, and makes us for 
 ever mourn the pristine splendour from which she fell ! 
 Ptome is the Mother of heroes, the Parent of lofty aspira- 
 tions and great deeds, but to me it seems that youth and 
 innocence would thrive better here. Oh ! the over- 
 powering beauty of this land ! it must resemble that on 
 which the Creator first smiled, it makes me feel a child 
 of nature, and brings me nearer to my God ! " . 
 
 She sat down on a rock, and both relapsed into 
 silence : the man thought of his far-off home in Britain, 
 more beautiful to him by far ; tiie girl mused. The 
 scene might have impressed a less meditative mind than 
 Flora's, who was, as we have seen, gifted with the spirit 
 of poetry. The sunny and bright atmosphere of her 
 native land had -developed her early girlhood, almost 
 before her childhood was over, but education had done 
 still more : her daily intercourse with Martina had 
 
 13
 
 194 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 matured and improved her : the histories of the martyrs 
 she loved to hear had inspired her with a lofty enthu- 
 siasm, and made her aspire to great deeds. In the 
 same manner, the virtues of the Eoman republic were 
 kept up by the fond pride of its children, who would not 
 degenerate from a Eegulus and a Camillus.* Flora had 
 grown up, blending the Eoman spirit with the woman's 
 gentleness, strengthening by the Christian lessons of 
 self-sacrifice a heart which might have proved too sus- 
 ceptible of human tenderness. Oftentimes, her watch- 
 ful mother had trembled for the safety of the floweret 
 confided to her care ; it seemed to her unfit for the rude 
 blasts of the world, hardly strong enough to thrive on 
 the steep heights of Christian perfection, too inclined 
 perhaps to lean on earth, taking refuge in the genial 
 atmosphere of home affections and domestic happiness : 
 but when she used to consult Martina about their young 
 charge : " Do not fear," was the answer, " do not fear 
 for Flora ! she may perhaps linger by the roadside 
 before she climb the narrow path of holiness, but when 
 once she enters it she will go on by strides not by steps ; 
 perchance, she may sometimes stoop to gather the 
 brilliant flowers which lure the young along the way of 
 life, but if she press them to her heart and find one 
 thorn among them, she will fling them away for ever. 
 That girl will never wait for her second disappointment : 
 the first will have done its work ! if it needs be that 
 she must pass through that ordeal so hard to bear ! — but 
 
 * Moribus antiquis statres Eomana virisque. — Ennius.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 195 
 
 do not fear ! there is a seal upon her brow which shows 
 the Most High has called her, and not in vain." 
 
 Time passed, and the prophecy seemed to be moving 
 towards its fulfilment, the dawning virtues of that girl 
 prepared her more and more for her noble mission ! 
 
 She sat there, with that Eoman-built town of Cimella, 
 from which she had strayed that morning, visible on the 
 neighbouring hilL On its brow was a temple standing 
 out in relief against the sky : above it floated the clouds, 
 not watery, nor black, nor threatening, as in other climes, 
 but vapoury and gold-tinged, wafted here and there, 
 like the incense of the earth before its God ! and 
 beneath their dreamlike shadow the firmament looked 
 more blue, as if they were only meant to increase its 
 loveliness, for there was in that deep-coloured sky a 
 dazzling radiance and an exhilarating influence, which 
 communicated gladness to the heart. 
 
 There was a hill extending all the way from Cimella, 
 and descending in a gentle slope towards the sea shore 
 where the girl stood ; at its foot, orange groves were 
 recognisable by their thick verdant foliage, and their 
 golden tribute struck the eye at a distance ; above these, 
 a range of olive trees contrasted strangely with the dark 
 pines nearer the summit; but, melancholy as is that 
 greyish verdure, yet how Scriptural is that tree of the 
 silvery aspect, under which Solomon sat, and David 
 sang ; it has a mysterious, poetical beauty of its own, 
 ever and anon the wind plays in its branches, and the 
 rusthng foliage seems to heave a sigh like the mysterious 
 breathing of the Prophet-King.
 
 196 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Thus Cimella rose in the distance ; around it, fair, 
 cultivated hills undulated on the horizon, and, just 
 behind Flora, as she sat on the sea shore, a rocky 
 eminence displayed itself, and there stood another town, 
 and its name was Nicsea. 
 
 A citadel on an inexpugnable rock, built by the 
 victorious Phoenicians long ago, and consecrated to 
 Hercules to whom they attributed their success, Nicsea 
 had preserved the name of Victory long after the origin 
 of that name was forgotten. A little further on, 
 Augustus had raised a monument after having conquered 
 Liguria, so that all here told of Eoman domination, but 
 Nicsea the victorious seemed to have remained the last 
 bulwark of Cisalpine Gaul. Its rude inhabitants dwelt 
 in fishermen's huts and went out often to sea : their 
 native rock affording no room for cultivation, they 
 would descend to the plain with their flocks, owning as 
 they did a great part of the ground between them and 
 Cimella. Year after year they learned something more 
 from the vicinity of the Roman colony ; they acquired 
 a taste for husbandry, already the vine trailed on their 
 sunny shore ; they added thereto the cultivation of the 
 olive tree, and, by and by, came the art of making 
 bricks and building. At the time we describe it, Kicaea 
 was yet struggling between the old pride of freedom and 
 the inroads of civilization. Claudius was interested in 
 that town more, perhaps, than in graceful Cimella, too 
 replete for him of Eoman memories; the rocky home 
 and its uncouth inhabitants were to the islander a 
 reminiscence of his distant fatherland. He gazed at it
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 197 
 
 long, and asked Flora whether she would like to bend 
 her steps thither. 
 
 " It seems to me," she said, " we have been out rather 
 long, and I hardly dare to go where I shall hear no 
 Latin spoken ; it is time to go home, but where, oh where 
 is Laurentius ? " 
 
 They called the boy, but received no answer ; Claudius 
 went among the rocks repeating his name till the sea- 
 gulls shrieked, and flew up frightened from their hiding- 
 places. Flora stepped cautiously on the gravel along 
 the water's edge ; she thought her brother might have 
 strayed among the bowers, formed by myrtle trees, 
 which grow very thick near the sea : strong and hardy, 
 they love the marine air and thrive in its sandy soil, but 
 turn away indignant when the breeze visits them too 
 roughly ; all their branches then grow inward, and they 
 hide their floral tribute, like a coy maiden retiring from 
 the rude homage of her sailor-lover. Flora went on, 
 stooping under the boughs, which, uncut and unculti- 
 vated, spread in wild luxuriance ; she heard footsteps, 
 and stopped : they were not her brother's, however ; 
 she was too well accustomed to the sound of his boyish 
 tread, so light and joyous, not to recognise it even at a 
 great distance. She remained listening, and could dis- 
 tinguish the light friction of the pebbles by a woman's 
 tunic ; another instant of suspense, and she found her- 
 self face to face with a young girl of her own age. A 
 blue stola was confined by a loose girdle round her 
 waist; on her shoulders, ivory s'piculce fastened the 
 folds, leaving her arms bare ; a vestis succincta covered
 
 198 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 this, partially gathered up under the girdle as if to 
 facilitate her walking; the sandals she wore were old 
 and worn out, her feet swollen, as if with toil and 
 fatigue. The only foreign addition to this Eoman cos- 
 tume was a large hat of plaited straw, such as Greek 
 maidens wear in Ionia ; it was fixed with pins on her 
 head, where the hair united in gold-coloured braids 
 formed a diadem over her brow. Her features were cast 
 in the Grecian mould; the complexion was slightly 
 olive, yet so clear that one could see the colour mantle 
 in her cheek with every varying emotion. Her eyes were 
 blue, which was a novelty to Flora; they were full of 
 depth and meaning and fixed now earnestly on the 
 Eoman girl, scanning her with a look of smiling inquiry: 
 " Are you Flora ? " she inquired. 
 
 " I am ! but how can I be known to you ? Are you a 
 vision ? " 
 
 " No, indeed ! I am a mortal like yourself, looking 
 forward to be your friend, if you will permit me. I 
 have met a boy calling upon your name in sorrow and 
 anxiety ; — your brother, I think ; my uncle took him by 
 the hand and is helping him in his search among the 
 rocks ; I am waiting for them here." 
 
 " Then I shall wait with you, lest I should miss them. 
 Sweet stranger, you speak my Latin language well, yet 
 it sounds foreign on your lips; are you a Eoman 
 exile ? " 
 
 " I am a Grecian by birth. My parents were ship- 
 wrecked on these coasts ; my uncle Pontius and I were 
 saved in that terrible disaster, and we have continued
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 199 
 
 to live in this land where God's Providence delivered 
 us from a watery grave." 
 
 " We are sisters, I see, by the mention yon have made 
 of His Adorable ^N'ame ; but what makes you so trustful ? 
 How come you to know I am not a Pagan ? " 
 
 " The boy we met was kneeling under a tree, and 
 invoking the Thrice Hallowed Xame ! He was afraid 
 of having lost you ; that made us so anxious to help 
 him." 
 
 " Were your parents Christians ? " 
 
 "Alas, no! but when the tempest tossed our ship 
 wildly on the waves, and all hope was lost, a Christian 
 mariner seized that awful moment for revealing to us 
 the True God. Saints say there is a special grace at- 
 tached to that hour, for, though the good man's words 
 were brief, they penetrated many souls, and almost all the 
 Pagans knelt before the few Christians that were in the 
 boat, asking to be baptised. My uncle, who had believed 
 in and practised the One Faith from his youth, poured 
 the ^Vater of Piegeneration on my mother's head, and 
 her smile of ineffable peace told of an anticipated 
 heaven in her heart. I knelt by her side, but I was 
 not satisfied, for my father had not joined us, and hesi- 
 tated still. I flew to him, and conjured him by the Great 
 God my heart already worshipped, by his paternal love, 
 by my own filial devotion, to bow to the sacred rite ; but 
 oh ! while I was yet speaking, the deck we stood on, 
 already shattered by beating against the rocks, now 
 broke in. He fell over into the sea ; instinctively I 
 clung to the mast, and the vigorous arm of a sailor held
 
 200 Flora : the Ro77zan Martyr. 
 
 me up. I looked round, my mother had been swept 
 away ; I looked down, my father was struggling with 
 the waves. I held out my arms to him ; he saw me, 
 his hand was raised, I thought he was trying to make 
 the Christian sign, and I called on the True God to save 
 him .... He sank, with that Hallowed Name 
 on his lips ! and oh ! how often since have I hoped 
 that fearful death may have proved the baptism of his 
 soul, that the waters which surrounded him may have 
 purified him, for I am sure he desired the Sacrament. 
 Since then I have loved the sea, for I am always seek- 
 my dear ones there, and, when the waves beat high and 
 murmur, it seems to me as if the soul of my father spoke 
 through their voice, saying : ' Eeparata, work on and do 
 all the good thou canst, remembering that thou hast, for 
 thee and me, a double work to do '. My uncle conducts 
 me here often, for he goes to instruct the poor Pagans 
 at Nicsea, and he takes me up those rugged steeps, for I 
 love to be the companion of his labours." 
 
 " And where do you live, Eeparata ? " 
 
 A sound of approaching voices interrupted them ; 
 Claudius had found Laurentius in company with a 
 venerable man : the moment the boy saw Flora, he ran 
 away from his guide, and, with cries of joy and playful 
 reproach : " Oh sister ! " he said, " who was it played 
 the truant this time ? " 
 
 " You yourself, naughty boy ; where were you ? " 
 
 " At first I found such pretty coral on the rocks I 
 thought Claudius would know how to carve it into a 
 necklace for you, then I went on picking up little shells
 
 Flora : the Roman Ma^^yr. 201 
 
 of varied colours ; at last I came here and could not find 
 my way back. See ! I have discovered a new friend 
 who has taken great care of me," and he fell back a few 
 steps to introduce the stranger Eeparata had spoken of 
 as her own uncle. He was rather older than Claudius, 
 or perhaps appeared so on account of his grey hair, 
 which bore the traces rather of study and profound 
 thought than of years. His eye, bright with intellect, 
 was sometimes lit up with a latent spark of mirth, 
 denoting talents which would have graced a comic 
 poet, and such Pontius had been in his younger 
 days, when he learned, in the classic shades of 
 his own land, the plays of Aristophanes. Would he 
 not have graced the world there, in that nursery of 
 genius where his own so fitly shone, while men hung 
 upon his words, where, distinguished in the dramatic 
 art, he would have witnessed his own plays, wielding 
 ably the weapons of satire, and calling forth bursts of 
 applause from his fellow-countrymen, as he pourtrayed 
 to them their foibles with irresistible ridicule ? Truly 
 that man was born for fame and the world's applause ! 
 And now ? A preacher of the gospel to the untutored 
 children of these shores, an apostle of the faith among 
 this people, whose mind opened but slowly to the truth, 
 toiling in the midst of them unceasingly, until he 
 wore out the energies of his mind and vigorous frame 
 in the laborious task. Who is to know this, oh Pon- 
 tius ? who is to register the great deeds of thy seemingly 
 wasted intellect? Thus would men reason, and thy 
 self-devotion would appear to them an utter destruction
 
 202 Flora : the Roman Marty 7^. 
 
 of all that is noble within thee ; but a day will come 
 when the masters of the human mind, the sons of genius 
 and of song will be mouldering in their graves, posterity 
 will have forgotten them, save in those rare exceptions 
 when the sculptor may have traced their features in the 
 undying marble ; and then thou, who didst refuse to 
 consort with these superior ones, wilt find thyself 
 elevated far above them in the annals of fame ; these 
 Mcsean shores, once witness of thy labours, will bear 
 the echo of thy name to distant ages, these hills will re- 
 sound with it. When the old Eoman founders are for- 
 gotten, a shrine shall rise to thy memory, at which 
 earthly potentates will kneel. The Founder of the Carlo- 
 vingian dynasty will deem it an honour to have slept 
 on his return from Eome within the walls that shelter 
 thy glorious remains, and the Ligurians will reckon it 
 one of the good deeds of Charlemagne that he erected 
 an Abbey in honour of St. Pontius. How little do men 
 know when they are sowing the seeds of their own 
 greatness ! 
 
 The venerable man cast one penetrating glance on 
 Flora, as if scanning the expression of her mind in her 
 features ; he seemed satisfied by what he read there, and 
 turning to his own golden-haired companion : " You 
 have improved the leisure hour I hope, Eeparata, and 
 secured a friend to yourself in this young lioman lady ". 
 
 " We have enjoyed this last quarter-of-an-hour so 
 much, noble stranger," interposed Flora courteously, 
 " that I hope to look forward to many a pleasant day 
 passed in your niece's society."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 203 
 
 " Ay, ^ay, women together make fair sunshine," ob- 
 served Pontius, and an old, long- forgot ton, half-sarcastic 
 smile played on his features, as he adapted to this 
 remark a line from one of his favourite poets. 
 
 " Which looks all the brighter when man's shadow 
 comes across it," observed Flora archly, casting her eyes 
 on the ground where the tall form of the stranger w^as 
 delineated, as he stood with his back to the glowing 
 sunset. 
 
 He was pleased with her promptness : an amused 
 expression passed over his face. He looked at Flora 
 again, and met those peculiar eyes of hers, w^hose 
 mysterious expression no one could fathom, save those 
 who knew that one of her family had conferred with 
 the Most High. Pontius thought he recognised in her 
 the stuff of which superior women are made, and he at 
 once felt attracted to her as to a kindred spirit ; his old 
 love of teaching was roused, and he at once conceived 
 the desire to impart knowledge to that young mind. 
 
 " Where are your steps directed to, lady ? " he asked. 
 " Allow us to show you the way, we know the country 
 so well." 
 
 " We live at Cimella," broke in Claudius, wdio had 
 remained in the background during the whole conver- 
 sation. 
 
 *' So do we ! " resumed Pontius, and they went on 
 together, the young girls side by side, and the boy giving 
 his hand to Claudius, yet keeping near the stranger. 
 
 " How comes it," continued the latter, " we have 
 never met, although we are such near neighbours ? "
 
 204 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " It is only a few days since we arrived/' explained 
 Flora, " and this is the first time we have come out for 
 a walk." 
 
 " I suppose that must excuse my young friend here 
 running wild with excitement," said the old man, patting 
 Lauren tins on the head. " You must come to see me, 
 my boy, I can show you many entertaining things." 
 
 " Do you live at Cimella, or near it ? " asked Flora. 
 
 " Farther on in the valley, by the side of the torrent. 
 Christians know my retreat, and often seek me there." 
 
 " And where are the assemblies of the faithful held, 
 and when ? " 
 
 " We have one this very night : will you join us ? 
 You could not find out your way, but we can call for 
 you when we set out." 
 
 " Will you allow Eeparata to come home with me 
 now ? I should like her to make acquaintance with my 
 mother. Then, at the appointed hour, we can all go 
 together, and Claudius will take care of us." 
 
 " All your relations are Christians, then ? " 
 
 " No, my dear father is not, but he is in Eome ; he 
 will come later in the season to Liguria." 
 
 " I am so glad my niece has met you ; she has been 
 long deprived of all society, dear girl, save that of her 
 old uncle and the poor people of this strange land 
 . . . . and yet .... born to a high destiny ! 
 but" .... his voice faltered a little, then he 
 resumed : " God's Will be done ! " 
 
 " My mother will be glad to welcome Eeparata," said 
 Flora earnestly. Pontius bid them adieu, for his road
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 205 
 
 lay along the mountain torrent, and the young people, 
 with Claudius, took the steeper pathway up the hill. 
 They had not proceeded far when they met Siona, who, 
 anxious at her children's long absence, had come out on 
 the high road to watch for them. Many questions were 
 on her lips, but she had not time to ask them, all were 
 so anxious to give their news : then Flora, introducino- 
 her new friend with the sweet affectionate manner she 
 used to those she was intimate witli : " I have promised 
 this Grecian maiden a mother's embrace from you, for 
 Heaven has taken from her her dear ones ". 
 
 Thus appealed to, Siona immediately clasped the 
 orphan to her heart, and held her hand in hers, as they 
 proceeded homewards, talking over the events of tlie 
 day. They reached the house, which was of Eoman 
 construction, and surrounded with pleasant grounds, but 
 it was growing too dark to observe anything out of 
 doors ; they entered, and found within all the comforts 
 of civilization and Eoman luxury. A silver lamp 
 branching into several candelabra was already lit for 
 the evening : its light was reflected in a highly-polished 
 table of a large circumference, carved out of the 
 trunk of a single olive tree ; chairs of sculptured bronze, 
 heavy, long, and disposed for reclining upon, were placed 
 round the fresco-painted walls ; other sedilia of dark- 
 coloured wood had designs of ivory laid on them in 
 bas-relief ; the floor was of mosaic pavement, and many 
 smaller objects in the apartment showed the taste and 
 wealth of the owners. The young stranger's eye ran 
 over the household picture like one experienced in the
 
 2o6 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 refinements of life, and pleased to view them. She 
 dropped gracefully into one of the chairs, and, stooping 
 over it, the better to examine its delicate inlaying : 
 " How long," she exclaimed, " since I have rested in an 
 artistic seat like this ; I feel as if it were a dream of 
 home once more ". An involuntary sigh escaped her. 
 
 " I understood from Flora you were not Roman-born, 
 my child," said Siona, gently smoothing her hair. 
 
 " No, lady, I am from Greece, the very cradle of art, 
 the parent of all that genius has inspired to man. Ah 
 me ! that I should give even a passing regret to 
 such idle things, when everlasting treasures are within 
 my reach." 
 
 " Give way to the mood, dear child, it will relieve 
 your heart to open it ; think that a mother and sister are 
 by you." 
 
 The last words, though uttered low, were overheard by 
 Laurentius, who, young as he was, understood good 
 breeding with the instinct of gentle birth: "When it 
 pleases you to call me, mother," he said, " I shall be with 
 Claudius in the garden," and withdrawing, he left the 
 ladies alone. 
 
 Siona and her daughter drew nearer to the orphan, 
 who, overcome by their kindness and her own sad 
 memories, seemed to require all their sympathy. She 
 loosened the pins from her hat, which, falling off, dis- 
 played her beautiful hair shining like gold in the lamp- 
 light. 
 
 " You are evidently a foreigner," said Flora, caressing 
 her. " Roman girls have not locks like yours ; and this
 
 Flora : the Ronimi Martyr. 207 
 
 covering for your head, simewhat like the nimbus * of 
 our statues, only larger, whence comes it ? " 
 
 "From Ionia: maidens use it to shelter themselves 
 from the sun, which does not hinder us, as you see," 
 here she touched her forehead laughing, " from growing 
 brown as yon bronze satyr." 
 
 " And you have preserved this memory of your 
 country, woven for you perhaps by a mother's hand." 
 
 " No ! my mother, though skilled in embroidery, as all 
 women of our country, did not know any common work ; 
 she was a princess." 
 
 " Poor child!" observed Siona, "how painful you must 
 find the life you lead here ! " 
 
 " Oh no ! duty is a powerful sweetener of the bitter 
 past. My uncle is both father and mother to me now. 
 In ministering to his wants, in following him on his 
 distant excursions, I sometimes feel the hardships to 
 which my childhood was not inured ; but I think of my 
 parent gone to his doom with but few good works to 
 present to his God, and I offer up my trials for him, 
 remembering that I have double work to do." 
 
 "But how came you all to embark and trust your 
 fortune to that vessel ? Where were you bound to ? " 
 
 " My father was king of a small island in the Ionian 
 sea ; he was attacked by a more powerful neighbour, and 
 obliged to flee. The potentate, reviving an insignificant 
 quarrel, had looked with envy on our beautiful island, 
 
 * The origin of the Nimbus round the heads of Saints in 
 pictures is derived from a circlet or disk placed on the heads of 
 statues to preserve them from rain.
 
 2o8 Flo7^a : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 where the odoriferous trees of the East grew mingled 
 with the cultivated produce of the West. My father 
 made his people happy, and they loved him, but he had 
 neglected to harden them to military life, and, when the 
 invader came, they were too indolent to rise in arms. 
 The few faithful attendants surrounding our palace 
 warned us of the cunning of the invader who had sur- 
 prised us in the dead of the night. No preparations 
 had forestalled, no resistance awaited the enemy : all 
 was darkness around, when we were told to prepare for 
 flight. Oh! the horrors of that scene, the rapid collecting 
 of our treasures, and the bidding farewell to the court 
 where we had all been so happy. I thought it the most 
 painful hour of my girlish life, but there was yet 
 another, more dreadful still by far." 
 
 She covered her face with her hands, and was silent 
 a few moments ; tears flowed through the delicate taper 
 Angers, and Flora noticed how the exquisitely formed 
 hands were covered with recent blisters, from work under- 
 taken beyond her strength, while the arms, from the 
 wrists upwards, displayed that roundness of contour 
 and curve of beauty which Grecian sculptors have pre- 
 served as the traditional type of antique models. Siona 
 and Flora would not interrupt the momentary solace of 
 tears, but let her weep on in silence. By and by 
 she looked up : " It is so sweet," she said, " to meet 
 with the sympathy of those of my own sex, of which T 
 have been long deprived. I must open my heart to you 
 in its most secret sorrows. A poignant regret has some- 
 times stolen over me, I have reproached myself with
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 209 
 
 being somewhat the cause of ray parents' trouble, and 
 the thought is a painful one. The king who invaded 
 my father's territory had sought me in marriage for his 
 son. I disliked not so much the alliance, as the idea of 
 marriage in itself. Pagan though I was, I had an in- 
 explicable feeling of dread for that state which most 
 girls aspire to ; I hated the idea of being a queen, and 
 indulged in a mysterious foreshadowing hope. My heart 
 told me that One would come to me, mightier far than 
 all I saw, and for Him I kept my affections free. My 
 fancy pictured to itself one of the children of men, en- 
 dowed with earth's choicest gifts. But ah ! could I have 
 guessed that I was already chosen by the Immortal 
 Spouse Whose guardian care shielded me from an im- 
 pending fate. My uncle, long ago enlightened with a 
 superior wisdom, requested my father not to force my 
 inclinations. I fear me, this was the origin of the dis- 
 astrous quarrel which ended in my father's overthrow. 
 We cannot help," she added, concluding her narration, 
 "wishing for our parents a little portion of earth's 
 happiness, though faith teaches us to aspire higher : 
 suffering is ever painful, though we know it to be good 
 for us." 
 
 She rose from the seat she had occupied, and pointing 
 to the silver sconce serving as a lamp which a slave had 
 brought in : " It is night," she said. " If you will come 
 to the Mysteries I shall lead the way, for it is time ! " 
 
 They were surprised at her abruptness, but the poor 
 
 girl had thus broken off the conversation to conceal her 
 
 emotion, for she was accustomed to meet every suffering 
 
 14
 
 2IO Flora: the Roman Martyr. 
 
 with renewed energy. They rose at her bidding, and 
 Claudius returned. A few of the slaves, such as were 
 Christians, were informed of what their mistress in- 
 tended doing, and asked to go with her ; they all set out 
 together. Slowly and in silence they looked carefully 
 for the mountain paths which Eeparata pointed out, and 
 reached the river in safety. It was, more properly speak- 
 ing, a torrent, fed at times by the waters which came 
 rolling down the mountains at the approach of spring, 
 when the sun melted the snows ; it had made its way 
 through rocks and through the volcanic soil ; narrow 
 and bounded as it was on each side in the beginning of 
 its course, its bed became wider as it reached the plain. 
 During the summer it ran almost dry, and pebbles, de- 
 tached from the rocks, and smoothed by friction, formed 
 a bed, where pedestrians could walk. This was the 
 road generally followed by the Christians, as they di- 
 rected their steps to the cavern where they held their 
 nightly assemblies. It lay about two miles farther up 
 the source, beyond Cimella. Everything seemed to un- 
 dergo a change as the traveller, entering the valley, 
 found the air colder, the vegetation more hardy, the 
 rays of the sun excluded by the fir trees, and the very 
 soil, no longer covered with luxuriant pasture, but flinty 
 and stony, reft asunder in some places, as if showing 
 the rocks had undergone a convulsion of nature. The 
 change of temperature was, however, not so discernible 
 at night, but the scene was very beautiful as the moon 
 cast her silvery beams on the cold naked earth. Not a 
 sound was to be heard but the steps of the Christians
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 211 
 
 proceediug on their pious pilgrimage ; the conical- shaped 
 shadows of the tall cypresses were reflected on the 
 ground, untouched by the breeze, and from their 
 branches arose the plaintive notes of the bird of 
 mourning and of song ; on either side, the rocks looked 
 down like fantastical criants stretchincf in the moon- 
 beams, records of the past, and silent guardians of that 
 spot of earth ; perhaps they had never witnessed a holier 
 sight than these children of the Crucified seeking their 
 God in the darkness of the night. 
 
 The party had spoken but little on the way, only to 
 warn each other of any sudden turn or dangerous de- 
 clivity in the road ; at length, Eeparata, who acted as 
 guide, said to her companions : " We are very near the 
 cave where our brethren assemble ; let each of us light a 
 torch that they may recognise us ". 
 
 " I cannot see anything," observed Claudius ; " where 
 is the entrance ? " 
 
 " There, behind that palm tree there is a hole in the 
 rock. Lead on your mistress carefully." 
 
 The advice was needless, for almost immediately a 
 man bearing a torch came himself from the aperture ; 
 it was Eeparata's uncle, who had been on the lookout 
 for them, and who now guided them at once to the 
 mouth of the cave. 
 
 They were surprised to find it so much larger than 
 they expected, tapers were twinkling from one extremity 
 to the other, and in that light men could be seen kneel- 
 ing in serried ranks. Obediently to the prescriptions of 
 the Church, the women were partitioned off, and tliougli
 
 2 1 2 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 
 
 not as far apart as iu the Eoman Catacombs, they were 
 as much separated as the limited space would permit. 
 Flowers in profusion had been brought by the simple 
 people to decorate their place of worship, together with 
 offerings for the Agapse or feasts of charity : most of 
 those present were shepherds, and truly, there was much 
 to recall the grotto of Bethlehem, where the lowly ones 
 of earth had gathered round the Saviour and seen His 
 Glory. When Eeparata entered, most of them rose to 
 make way for her, for all knew and reverenced that girl 
 who had converted many of them, and had been to all an 
 Angel of Light, bringing Good ISTews. 
 
 She showed Siona her place among the matrons, and 
 modestly retired to lier own at the head of the maidens. 
 After praying a short time in silence, she assumed her 
 wonted task of head chorister, and gave the impulse to 
 the juvenile voices which arose, fresh and musical, till 
 they made the echoes of the grotto ring again with the 
 strain. Alas ! for how many was that song the pre- 
 liminary to the final battle cry : how many that now 
 joined in the hymn Bex gloriose Marty rum were des- 
 tined to repeat it in other scenes where it woukl thrill 
 on their lips in an agonizing death-note. There were no 
 such foreshadowings, however, among the Christians here 
 assembled ; they had never known persecution, their 
 faith was in its infancy, Jesus was lately born among 
 them; their religion, not yet inured, as in the Cata- 
 combs, to suffering and to death, had more of joyousness 
 and less of heroism ; they had been called to Bethlehem's 
 glories, not yet to Calvary's immolation.
 
 Flo7^a : the Roman Martyr. 213 
 
 Pontius acted as deacon ; they had only two priests ; 
 the little flock hardly required more, and the Church of 
 Eome could ill spare its labourers. Young Laurentius 
 offered himself to serve as acolyth, for he was well 
 versed in the ritual of the Church. Pontius accepted 
 him willingly, and the boy took the thurifer from his 
 hand, and followed the priest as he went round dis- 
 tributing the mysterious Bread and Wine, in which the 
 faithful adored their Living God. 
 
 Unconsciously, Flora's eye wandered over that scene 
 so new to her, yet so familiar, those strange people, so 
 alien to her clime and language, yet her brethren in 
 faith ; she felt the powerful link of the One, Unerring 
 Church, and, as her brother took his place near its 
 teachers, she thought, oh how thankful would she be if 
 he were indeed to occupy that place for life. Often and 
 often had she formed for him that high, sanctifying 
 wish, often had she repeated over him the prayer she 
 had been taught as Cecilia's, often implored that, what- 
 ever were her fate, Laurentius might be called to the 
 priest's sacred mission. All her childish sacrifices — and a 
 Christian child's life is abundantly stored with those 
 precious trifles — all her girlish sorrows were offered up, 
 with the prayer that they might descend, rich with the 
 priestly unction, on the head of Laurentius. She re- 
 membered her many petitions as she saw him standing 
 in the midst of the assembly, the torch he held in his 
 hand lighting up his handsome features, as if with a trans- 
 parent beauty ; she thought of the words in the Acts of 
 the Apostles which relate the Martyrdom of St. Stephen :
 
 214 Flora: the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " And when they looked at him, his face was like unto 
 that of an angel". Truly thus looked Laurentius 
 now ! He knelt down in his turn to receive the Holy 
 Eucharist, and, instead of withdrawing with the rest, he 
 seemed to be seized by an irresistible impulse ; his arms 
 outstretched, his face upturned and illumined with a 
 celestial glow, his eyes, with that singular expression 
 which none could read, were now fixed in the ardour of 
 ecstasy on an Invisible Presence ! Oh how easy it was 
 to see in the awful sanctity of that face the great destiny 
 the child was called to ! 
 
 The bystanders moved away, respecting the mystery 
 of his soul's interior converse ; he remained alone in the 
 midst, motionless, absorbed, hearing nothing but the 
 voice of Him Who, more than two hundred years before, 
 had spoken to his forefather and not been heard. The 
 neglected Call was now repeated for Laurentius, and his 
 ear drank in the welcome sounds, never more to be 
 forgotten : Ei vis perfectus esse, vende quod hahes, et post 
 veni, sequere me. 
 
 The prayers came to an end, and the faithful were 
 beginning to disperse, when Laurentius recovered from 
 his waking vision : the deHcate kindness of the brethren 
 who seemed not to notice him, made him hope the 
 favour he had just received would pass unperceived, but 
 he met the inquiring eye of his sister, and saw there she 
 had understood all that had passed between him and his 
 God ; pure souls need no interpreter to reveal to them 
 the secrets of Heaven. 
 
 The venerable Pontius left the cavern sooner than was
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 215 
 
 his wont, in order to accompany his new acquaintances 
 on their way home. Siona took the opportunity of ask- 
 ing him as a favour to allow his niece to spend some 
 weeks under her roof : " My daughter has been suffering 
 much of late," she added, "from a melancholy unusual at 
 her age; I see she will cling to Eeparata with the ardour 
 of a new and well-merited friendship. On the other 
 hand, your niece is delicate, and requires a mother's 
 fostering care ; I shall be so happy to watch over her." 
 
 " Your offer is so kind that I cannot refuse, yet I am 
 somewhat loth to consent. Eeparata is more to me than 
 if she were my child; the guardian angel of my hermit's 
 home, the ministering apostle to my poor disciples, the 
 friend and companion of my solitary hearth." 
 
 "It would be indeed a pity to separate you; therefore 
 noble Pontius, let me ask something more of you. Come 
 yourself with your niece to lodge in my villa, where you 
 can enjoy as much prayer and solitude as on the moun- 
 tain top. My husband, Florentius, on his arrival from 
 Eome later on in the season, will rejoice that I have 
 provided him with a visitor whom he will be happy to 
 appreciate and converse with. He is a philosopher and 
 loves the Greeks. Do not refuse me, Pontius, I entreat 
 of you, in the name of Eeparata. Come, at once, to- 
 morrow, if you can, and bring all that you will require 
 for your studies or daily occupations. May I count 
 upon this arrangement as concluded ? " 
 
 Thus urged, Pontius gave a willing consent, and bade 
 them good-night, as he had reached that turn in the 
 road which led to his retired home.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SIONA had consulted only her own kind heart 
 in wishing to take under her especial care the 
 motherless young Grecian, and she was amply rewarded 
 by a result the most consoling to her maternal feelings. 
 Flora had been suffering ever since the scene of Mar- 
 tina's martyrdom from depression of spirits : her nerves 
 had been strung to the utmost on that occasion, and her 
 feelings too much worked upon : this had produced a 
 temporary hallucination of mind. Every day, at the 
 identical hour in which her friend had expired, the 
 horrors of the Mamertine prison arose before her, and, 
 flee where she would, the pale face and headless trunk 
 of the martyr were pictured to her imagination. With 
 Reparata's entrance to the house the painful vision dis- 
 appeared ; Flora's mind was diverted by sympathy for 
 another's sorrow, and the playful, winning manners of 
 the young princess effectually strove to occupy her 
 attention at the hour of the daily crisis, or rather, God 
 willed that the Christian charity of that Roman family 
 should turn into a source of happiness for them. 
 Pontius too, struck by Laurentius' pious demeanour 
 and precocious intellect, won, moreover, by the boy's 
 affectionate regard, applied himself, with the love he 
 had in former days given to such things, to unfold to
 
 Flora: the Roman Marty7\ 217 
 
 the youth the treasures of Grecian philosophy and 
 literature. Laurentius drank in with avidity his new 
 master's teaching, applied himself to the study of the 
 Attic language, and mastered it rapidly : a few weeks 
 of ardent application under that experienced tuition did 
 the work of years. Siona was overjoyed when her guest 
 and her adopted son, pacing the garden, wrangled in 
 mock dispute, as was the wont of philosophers in 
 Athens ; Laurentius would hold forth in juvenile yet 
 not unworthy accents. Poetry, too, was opened to him, 
 and improvisation seemed to be his own peculiar 
 gift. Pontius would often remain listening, hushed and 
 anxious while the pupil poured forth his strains ; he 
 was touched by the sweet simplicity of that eloquence 
 to which the boy's Oriental origin imparted a richness 
 of idea peculiar to those versed in Jewish imagery : he 
 would fold in his arms his interesting charge, thanking 
 him for affording him the enjoyment of those intellectual 
 pleasures which he had left untasted for so long. Siona 
 knew she was furthering her husband's wishes by pro- 
 moting the boy's education, and looked forward to his 
 pleasure and surprise when he should arrive. 
 
 Thus the summer season passed away, and the time 
 for culling the olives drew near. Claudius was about 
 to depart : the business he had been required to transact 
 for his employer Adrias had long since drawn to a 
 close, but the ship in which he was to embark for 
 Britain was not yet ready to sail, and his masters 
 rejoiced at the delay. The affection and lingering re- 
 gret at parting was indeed mutual, the liberated slave
 
 2 1 8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 clung to those children with an almost fatherly love. 
 The tree, transplanted from its native soil, pines at 
 first in a strange land, yet its roots, too vigorous to waste 
 away, too strong to die, must needs seek for sustenance 
 and for space to expand in, so they fasten to the new 
 earth, which, from a land of exile, becomes a home, and 
 the spreading, verdant branches above tell that early 
 wounds have been healed. Then, in the shade of that 
 goodly tree, young plants grow and prosper, and shoots 
 spring round till they become, as it were, part of its own 
 life. Such had been the intercourse of Claudius with his 
 young masters ; he had found in their true affection the 
 requital of his own devotion ; their growing comeliness 
 was his pride, their piety, the fruit of his prayers and 
 teaching. He felt indeed that, in retiring from that vine- 
 yard, where he had toiled so long for his Master's glory, 
 he left behind him not a single work undone which had 
 been assigned to him. Thus, in the midst of pleasant 
 occupations, in the daily practice of charity, in impart- 
 ing lessons to young Laurentius of religion and classical 
 lore alternately, the season passed on, and the merry 
 gathering of the olives was at hand. In the sandy soil 
 of Cimella, this produce was the most abundant of all 
 husbandry pursuits, and corresponded to the harvest 
 and vintage of Kome, Eeparata, so well known to all 
 the labourers, had been invited to give the first shake to 
 the trees, for as many as knew that girl thought a 
 secret blessing was attached to all she did. Hand in 
 hand with Flora, she visited those plantations whose 
 owners she knew were Christians, accompanied by
 
 Flora : the Romaft Martyr. 2 1 9 
 
 the slaves of her hostess, who was willing to contribute 
 to the pleasures of the simple people among whom she 
 had of late resided. The young Grecian so arranged the 
 day's work, that the gravity customary among Christian 
 labourers should be mingled with the necessary relaxa- 
 tions and amusements over which she presided. The 
 benediction of God was invoked upon the olives, and, 
 even as Abel had of old offered to Jehovah the first 
 fruits of his flock, so was a part to be reserved for the 
 use of the poor. The youths and maidens were to work 
 in separate bands, until the hour of repast, for which 
 the slaves had prepared kids, roasted whole before 
 rousing fires in the wood, and steeped in wine : " Thus," 
 said the girl, " would the father of poets have regaled his 
 labourers, and thus shall we sit by them, after sharing 
 their toil ". 
 
 Pontius smiled, and promised to sing one of his almost 
 forgotten Homer songs during the feast ; he was pleased 
 at his dear child's thus recallino; the classic memories of 
 their favoured land. The maidens then went to spread 
 large linen sheets under the trees, so that the fruit, fall- 
 ing on them, might be perfectly unsullied from contact 
 with the earth, others looked for the olives which had 
 been already shaken off by the wind, and lay hidden in 
 the grass. All agreed that the harvest surpassed by far 
 the produce of previous years : all worked merrily ; 
 Laurentius joined the youths, and his sister the maidens, 
 and, from time to time, Eeparata enlivened the labour 
 by raising her voice in a song to which each band replied 
 in chorus. Claudius too cjave the labourers the benefit
 
 2 20 Flora: the Roman Martyr, 
 
 of his long experience in cultivation, and resumed, for 
 the day, the task of milieus he was about to give up, 
 not v^^ithout a lingering regret. Siona, who had provided 
 the feast, looked on with pleasure at the gay scene ; she 
 went from one group to another, observed the. goodly 
 heaps of olives increasing, and being accustomed to take 
 an interest in her husband's property near Eome, she 
 was well acquainted with all that concerned rural pur- 
 suits. All rejoiced to see her approach, for she had a 
 kind word for each ; and all expressed a hope the 
 Eoman family would not leave Cimella before the 
 culling of the orange blossoms, which, in that favoured 
 clime, are cultivated to such an extent as to yield a 
 large annual produce. 
 
 "This recalls to me very happy days," observed 
 Claudius, as, following Siona in her ascent up the hill, 
 on which the olive-trees grew, he came by her side, and 
 addressed her respectfully: "Thus, my good mistress, 
 you deigned to visit and examine the labours of your 
 slave at Aricia, making the hours of toil a holiday ". 
 
 " And thus," she replied smiling, " my slave became 
 my master, and taught me the life-long lesson my heart 
 has loved to dwell upon. Oh, how I bless the courageous 
 boldness with which you opened my eyes to the 
 Truth." 
 
 They had reached the brow of the hill, which com- 
 manded a view of the valleys beneath ; the sea lay in the 
 distance, its waters confounded with the sky above; 
 " I come here every day," she said, " to see whether any 
 vessel be in sight ".
 
 Flora : the Rommi Marty 7\ 221 
 
 " It is yet too soon for my lord Morentius to arrive, 
 and I know his is the only vessel you care to see." 
 
 " Oh, l)iit he wrote to me quite lately saying he 
 should so( )n come." She sighed, and added : " My dear 
 lord ! would that I could confide to him the secret of 
 our religion ; it is the only thing I have ever concealed 
 from him ". 
 
 " I think now is the time, my lady." 
 
 " How can I ! he would never understand Christianity: 
 philosophy is his idol." 
 
 " Yet, for the sake of Laurentius, I think it is better 
 that his father know and understand his principles ; it 
 is true that my young master is too well confirmed in 
 his faith to fear influence, but he will become the pupil 
 and companion of Florentius, and must needs have a 
 reason to o'ive for not meeting his views or sharinoj with 
 him in certain acts of idolatrous worship. I perceive he 
 has dropped the holla which Eoman youths generally 
 wear till they are fourteen; he is only eleven; how 
 shall we explain to his adopted father this departure 
 from your customs ? and, on the day when it will be 
 necessary for him to consecrate that relic of his child- 
 hood to the gods, how shall he escape the idolatrous 
 homage ? " 
 
 " True ! my daughter is in my own hands, but the 
 charge of Laurentius must pass to his father; what shall 
 I do?" 
 
 " Florentius is such a lover of truth, perhaps a frank 
 and noble acknowledgment that your household is all 
 Christian would not displease him."
 
 2 22 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " My courage would fail me." 
 
 " Let Flora undertake it. She has that daring Eoman 
 spirit which her father so much admires, together with 
 that gentleness so peculiarly her own ; young as she is, 
 she is gifted with much power, and I have seen many 
 yield to the sweet influence of her words." 
 
 " I hope, Claudius, there lies before her a quiet path 
 of duty like mine, that Providence may assign to her 
 the tranquil joys of the mother and the wife, and that 
 her children may rejoice her heart as she does mine." 
 
 " Oh, Lady Siona ! is that all you see ? Do you not 
 notice Flora's precocious wisdom, her ardent piety, the 
 modesty impressed on every feature, the thirsting lan- 
 guor of her eyes, which seem to be ever gazing on an 
 invisible Sacred Presence, do you not understand that a 
 high destiny awaits her ? Earthly happiness cannot be 
 her lot, for she belongs to One Who has marked her out 
 for Himself, and she must go to Him by the path He 
 calls her " 
 
 " Claudius, would you then warn me that my beloved 
 child will have to appear one day before wicked men to 
 answer for her faith ? Are you predicting for her the 
 doom which has already befallen some of her young 
 friends ? " 
 
 " Yes, noble Siona ! The doom which, in your cor- 
 rupted Eome, falls upon the innocent, the beautiful, the 
 pure ! When Martina, who had watched over your 
 daughter even as you and I have done, observed her 
 dawning virtues, and received the confidence of the 
 young heart she had formed, when she clasped her
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 223 
 
 young charge in a last embrace, then, with the pres- 
 cience of love, rendered more acute by that prophetic 
 spirit which visits us sometimes on the verge of another 
 life, she foretold to Flora her impending doom. She 
 bid her quit the thoughts of earth for an Eternal Union 
 and prepare to receive the call of the Saviour as a Virgin 
 and a Martyr Bride." 
 
 Siona had been listening overawed, she now could not 
 control her emotion and sobbed aloud. For many years 
 she had been accustomed to trust to her slave's simple- 
 hearted devotion, and to abide by his conscientious 
 advice. 
 
 " Pray for me, Claudius," she said, "as earnestly as in 
 that hour when you first spoke to me of God ; pray for 
 me that I may have strength to say over my child : 
 ' Our Father, Thy Will be done '." 
 
 " Will you instruct Flora how to make to her father 
 the disclosure you have decided upon ? " 
 
 " No, Claudius, I leave that to you, you are her spon- 
 sor before God, you have the wisdom of age, the sin- 
 cerity befitting a Christian. I had rather you broach 
 the subject with her, when I am more composed I can 
 speak to her about it too." 
 
 " I thank you, my dear mistress, for this last proof of 
 confidence before I leave your service." 
 
 " Now let us return to the labourers, for I see they 
 are weary, and are forming into groups to seek shelter 
 and repose. How happy we are in our faith, Claudius, 
 what a priceless gift God has bestowed on us Christians. 
 How glorious it is to look round on these hills and
 
 2 24 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 plains, on which the Creator cast His eye in the world's 
 early dawn, and saw that it was good. In that remote 
 time, thou and I, and these untutored children of Li- 
 guria, all lived in His Eternal Mind, He pre-ordained 
 all things for us, and loved us with a Mighty Love. 
 And yet," here she clasped her hands, and her accents 
 became mournful, " God is still ignored by the greater 
 part of this people, Eome has brought her idolatry among 
 them, and on that very hill the incense of this beautiful 
 land smokes on the altars of Diana. Alas, that it should 
 be so ! Is not Thy Arm sufficiently powerful, Crucified 
 One, to draw to Thee all things when Thou art raised 
 from earth ? is there not a powerful Intercessor, a Spot- 
 less Maiden chosen from the daughters of my people, 
 whose image should eff'ace that of the impure heathen 
 divinity? Oh, let Thy Kingdom come! and Thy Name 
 be praised even on these distant shores ! May She 
 whom all generations shall call Blessed be honoured 
 publicly in future ages on this hill, and the praises of 
 the Immaculate Mary be sung aloud in Cimella by the 
 pure of heart." * 
 
 These last words were a prayer, and Claudius, re- 
 specting the deep feeling with which they were spoken, 
 fell back a little distance, and then silently followed 
 his mistress back to the plain where the labourers were 
 assembled. They awaited her to open the harvest feast 
 which closed the day of labour, and the remaining hours 
 
 * The Church of Cimella, near Nice, is built on the ruins of a 
 temple of Diana.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 225 
 
 of twilight were spent in innocent diversion, after which 
 they retired to their respective homes. 
 
 About a week after this, as the family rose from their 
 morning prayers which Siona daily said aloud in their 
 rural residence, where she felt more free than at Eome, 
 Claudius came in to announce that a distant sail was in 
 sight, and he was going to the port of Nicsea to watch 
 for his dear master's arrival. A burst of joy welcomed 
 the glad news, all surrounded him in a moment, and the 
 ladies and slaves, together with Pontius, expressed them- 
 selves eager to follow Claudius. Siona proposed that 
 the whole household should set out forthwith, and each 
 slave immediately fetched a palm branch, or collected 
 fresh flowers which they bore in their hands as a sign 
 of gladness, then ranged themselves in rank and file, 
 with Claudius at their head, prepared to go and meet 
 the master they all loved so much. Siona declined the 
 lettiga they brought her ; she preferred walking, she 
 said, with her two dear girls ; she felt exercise was 
 necessary to calm the excitement of joyful expectation : 
 even Pontius set out with a firm step, while Laurentius 
 kept close by him, ready to offer himself as a support. 
 Never was there a happier party ! The road between 
 Cimella and Nicsea was not more than two miles, but 
 they had much farther to go, round the bay, in order to 
 reach the port where vessels put in. When they arrived 
 they found the shore already lined vdth persons who 
 had disembarked, and among them they immediately 
 recognised Plorentius. A loud cheer burst, almost un- 
 wittingly, from the grateful band of slaves. Florentius 
 
 15
 
 2 26 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 sprang forward, and before the traveller was aware of 
 the welcome that awaited him, his adopted son had 
 gently drawn him aside to meet his wife and daughter 
 at a little distance from the intruding crowd. 
 
 How sweet is the hour of reunion ! Perhaps there is 
 no joy in life so intense as that first glance we give on 
 a face we had loved, lost, and which we now meet 
 again. Each parting is, as it were, a death ! for, alas ! 
 the pang of separation is like the closing of a tomb ! 
 What matter that the dear form we clasp in our farewell 
 embrace be not consigned to dust ? for us, it lives no 
 more if it must pass away from us : if the eyes we have 
 so long gazed upon look upon ours no more, then, indeed, 
 the pain is to us the same as if death had already closed 
 them, and our grief is not to be comforted, save when 
 the hope of reunion remains, whispering consolation to 
 our anguish, and beguiling us with the invitation to 
 gaze into futurity. How stricken, indeed, must be the 
 heart which cannot look forward to that comfort ! hap- 
 less the soul which cannot say to itself : Resurgam ! 
 The very shortest separation is not without its pang, the 
 ceasing of it is accompanied by a corresponding joy. 
 As riorentius looked round on the dear faces about him, 
 he tliought a change of years had been wrought in each, 
 and had added charms to them. Laurentius had grown 
 taller, his childish brow bore the impress of thought, 
 study, and high resolve. Flora, more gay nnd light- 
 hearted than when she had left Eome, inherited all the 
 winning beauty which had distinguished her mother at 
 that age. The very slaves were radiant with joy, and
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 227 
 
 the good father and kind master, feeling himself beloved, 
 turned to the dear partner of his life, his eyes glistening 
 with honest, manly tears. 
 
 " I have a new friend to present to my lord," said 
 Siona, " one whom I am sure you will be glad to meet, 
 a stranger from Greece ; he has been very kind to our 
 Laurentius, who has profited much by his lessons." 
 
 A few words explained the circumstances which had 
 brought Pontius in contact with his hosts, and Florentius 
 was as pleased as his wife could wish, that she had 
 invited so noble a guest under her roof. 
 
 It was now time to think of going homewards, and 
 the happy family turned their steps thither, lingering on 
 the road in cheerful converse : the slaves preceded them 
 at a quicker pace, in order to prepare the banquet which 
 Siona had already ordered and disposed for her lord's 
 return. Friends and neighbours had been invited, and 
 a goodly company awaited Florentius on his threshold. 
 
 Paulina, the wife of Adrias, was there, with her little 
 children; he saluted her on the part of her husband, 
 whom he had left in Eome. Of those who welcomed 
 him, many were fellow-citizens who had come to Liguria 
 for business or health, and others were neighbours resid- 
 ing at Cimella, but all were friends, as they testified by 
 the reception they gave him. A joyous and numerous 
 assembly sat down in the triclinium of the villa, and 
 they did not break up till an advanced hour. 
 
 When Flora wished her father good-night before 
 retiring to rest, he gave her a letter from her young 
 friends in Eome. She withdrew to a small room which
 
 2 28 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Eeparata and she had fitted up as a private oratory, and 
 found her friend waiting for her to say their night 
 prayers together. That duty performed, they always 
 gave a last half hour to intimate and confidential con- 
 versation. 
 
 riora now drew out the folded parchment, and read 
 aloud : 
 
 " Eufina, Secunda, Lucia, to Flora, daughter of Floren- 
 tius, greetings and salutations in the name of all her 
 sisters. 
 
 "The time has appeared to us very long since you 
 left, and we miss you much at our meetings ; no one fills 
 your place near us at the Mysteries. We like to 
 go to Mount Aventine to look at your garden and talk 
 about you : your father has kindly invited us to go 
 there as often as we like, just as we did when you were 
 here, and whenever he receives a letter from Liguria, he 
 rejoices us by giving us news of your improved health. 
 Doubtless, Flora, your mind also dwells with your 
 absent friends, and you will be anxious to know what 
 Providence has done for each of us since we parted. 
 We three are all well, and our days have passed peace- 
 fully, occupied with our various duties at home, to which 
 we have added the care of the poor and the infirm for 
 whom you used to work. We often go to see your 
 friend Lucilla as you desired us; we take her out to 
 walk and try to amuse her with the recital of many 
 anecdotes, but she is ever inconsolable for the loss of 
 her sister. It is dreadful to see her, feeling with out- 
 stretched arms in those places where she used formerly to
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 229 
 
 find Yolumnia, and now only embraces a shadow: some- 
 times we are by her, and as she does not see us, and 
 fancies herself alone, she breaks out into lamentations 
 for her lost sister. Poor girl ! I fear she cannot long 
 outlive such violent grief; the one for whom she mourns 
 was the light of her eyes, and the joy of her life. Some- 
 times we meet Volumnia with the Grand Vestal ; she 
 looks as if she were turned into stone. We smile at her, 
 but she does not seem to see us. We have heard from 
 our brothers that Icilius has become a maniac; he shuns 
 the society of men, raves incoherently when he speaks 
 at all, for he generally keeps a moody silence. He 
 wanders night and day along the Tiber, or among the 
 trees at the foot of the Palatine Hill ; his hair is matted, 
 and his skin brown like that of one who has been 
 exposed to storms ; he gnashes his teeth like one 
 possessed. Oh, that the Light from on high might shine 
 on his benighted soul ! 
 
 "Hippolytus,who was converted at the death of Martina, 
 is the most fervent of penitents ; he lives in a disused 
 cave, on the Via Appia, which he only leaves to go to 
 the Catacombs. Your old nurse, Concordia, came to see 
 us the other day to enquire about you. I think she has 
 some suspicions about Barbara being a Christian, for she 
 seems almost vexed at her daughter being so good, and 
 tries her a good deal, but the poor child finds her com- 
 fort in prayer. Concordia seems to be much attached to 
 you ; she says she always regrets you, and could never 
 expect to find again such kind masters as your father 
 and mother. Her present charge, the young Hippoly tus,
 
 230 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 has much grown, and is about to engage in tlie military 
 service : he is very young to go to the wars, but he' 
 looks quite a soldier already. 
 
 " Your good father having told us he was going to 
 join you in Liguria, and that he would take charge of 
 our messages for you, we three have put our hands 
 to this letter, which we now conclude, requesting you, 
 dear sister, to remember us before God, and may the 
 peace which surpasseth all understanding be ever 
 yours." 
 
 " Why, Flora ! " exclaimed Eeparata, as she concluded 
 reading the epistle, " how many friends you have ! I 
 shall get quite jealous, and almost afraid to be ranked 
 among them. How can you be faithful to all ? " 
 
 " Why not ? As I have no sister, it is kind of Provi- 
 dence to have given me so many others, by adoption, 
 and the more love we put into our hearts, the more they 
 will contain." 
 
 " Oh," said Eeparata, laughing, " why don't you write 
 poetry, when you can analyse tender feelings so well?" 
 
 " Do I ? I was not aware I was poetising. I am so 
 accustomed to think viva voce with you." 
 
 " And I do the same : now forgive me for saying that 
 it must be pleasant, not to say dangerous, to be so uni- 
 versally loved as you are. Flora." 
 
 The young girl half tossed her head with a pretty 
 expression of disdain, but the habitual self-command of 
 the Christian repressed immediately the feminine vanity, 
 and she replied humbly : " If God has put into the
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 231 
 
 hearts of others much charity towards me, shall I be 
 vain and ascribe it to myself ? Oh no ! " 
 
 " iSTo one is ever vain of attracting friendship, that is 
 almost sacred, but it is dangerous to be sought after and 
 admired." 
 
 " Have not you tasted of that, and found it bitter ? " 
 
 " I ! oh I was only courted as a princess ; my rank 
 brought me flatterers, that was all. That prince who 
 wanted to marry me excited nothing but my aversion : 
 it is strange how our female hearts revolt against those 
 who would woo us against our own will." 
 
 " And to me it seems, on the contrary, that a natural 
 feeling of gratitude springs up in the heart of one who 
 feels herself loved ; it is difficult to repress, yet, if not 
 guarded against in the beginning, it may steal into the 
 threshold we have forgotten to close, and take up its 
 abode there, unbidden and unwilled." 
 
 " Oh, Flora ! " cried her friend with a merry laugh, 
 but seeing a deep blush suffuse her cheek, she stopped, 
 fearing there existed in that heart some hidden chord 
 which delicacy forbade her to touch. 
 
 It was not so, however, but Flora was naturally 
 keenly sensitive to the feelings she excited in others. 
 A passage in the letter she had read recalled to her one 
 to whom she knew she was not indifferent. She had met 
 the younger Hippolytus in the public walks, or at places 
 of entertainment, — for though Christian maidens sought 
 as much as possible to live retired, they were obliged to 
 conform to their parents' wishes in all that was con- 
 sistent with their own religious principles. Thus, Hippo-
 
 232 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 lytus had known Flora when they were both children — 
 his mother and Siona had been great friends, but, since 
 the death of the former, the intercourse between the 
 two families had dropped. Flora now felt a pang of 
 self-reproach at her peace of mind being somewhat 
 troubled by the remembrance of her old playmate. 
 
 Shall we blame the innocent girl that something of 
 womanly weakness was mingled with the lofty aspiring 
 thoughts of her pure soul ? No ! for who that belongs 
 to earth has not felt its dust cling to him at times, 
 through the long path we tread, which proves so 
 often, alas 1 a barren desert ; how often does the scorch- 
 ing wind pass over the freshness of youthful souls and 
 disturb the mirage of early dreams ! The training of 
 the heart is not achieved in a day ; the warrior is not 
 clad for a life-long combat at the first call ! God's 
 saints are sent on earth with His image in their souls, 
 but sent to strive, to fight and conquer : theirs is the 
 glory ! to be won with long and earnest struggling, 
 through bodily torture and mental agony, through men's 
 persecutions and the wiles of an enemy ; worse perhaps 
 than all these, the temptations of their own soul, the 
 instigations of the Evil One, who has never slumbered 
 since the day he spoke to the first woman in the garden, 
 who can only be conquered by the words of Him, the 
 Promised Seed, the Fruit of that Immaculate INIaiden 
 who, alone of all mortals, was placed beyond his reach. 
 His power was tried too upon the Son of God, clothed 
 in mortal garb ; shall we then wonder that our frail 
 nature succumbs at times in the contest ?
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 233 
 
 " Good-night, Eeparata," said Flora at length, after a 
 long pause, during which each had indulged uncon- 
 strained in her own thoughts, and they exchanged a sis- 
 terly kiss, but the young Grecian felt the cheek that 
 touched hers was hot and a little moistened. She for- 
 bore any remark, and soon sleep stole over her, but 
 Flora continued to sit up, and was very thoughtful. 
 
 She felt that a charge had been entrusted to her by 
 her mother, the weight of which oppressed her. Siona 
 had told her she thought the time had come when the 
 secret of their religion must be confided to Florentius ; 
 she provided her with all the arguments she could sug- 
 gest, and bade her choose a propitious moment, for she 
 had decided that this task was to be entrusted to her- 
 self alone. Her devotion to her father, and his great 
 confidence in her, would facilitate the disclosure, and if 
 Florentius' feelings were roused, he would give vent to 
 them with his own child more unrestrainedly than with 
 others. Flora thought over the difficulties of this deli- 
 cate task, as she sat, still dressed, in the cubiculum, 
 while her friend slumbered peacefully. She became so 
 agitated that she felt the want of fresh air, and went to 
 seek it on an open terrace. The moon was resplen- 
 dently bright ; she looked out into the garden, and 
 saw by that light the figure of Florentius walking 
 up and down the gravel walks ; her heart was on her 
 lips, and she called out without intending it : " My 
 father ". 
 
 Though little more than a whisper, the sound of that 
 voice reached him in the solemn stillness of the night.
 
 234 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 
 
 He turned towards her with outstretched arms. Moved 
 by an irresistible impulse, the girl left her chamber at 
 once, ran down-stairs, found the porter standing by the 
 open gate, rushed past him, and found herself clasped 
 in her father's embrace. 
 
 " Fie ! puella," he said, " what makes you keep such 
 vigils ? " 
 
 " You had given me a letter," she said, stooping and 
 kissing his hand. " I read it, and that prevented me 
 retiring to rest. And yourself, my dear father, why 
 do you not go to bed ? " 
 
 " I am a surly old philosopher, Flora, who watch 
 while others sleep, for night is, with the sages, the most 
 favourable time for acquiring wisdom. I am very fond 
 of the stars too, and I love to examine them. And 
 what brought you down, my dear child ; would you like 
 to study with me ? " 
 
 " Yes, father, I should like to know all that is an 
 object of interest to you, so as to be able to converse 
 with you." 
 
 " Dulcissima filia^ I believe you would do anything 
 to please me. 1 fully appreciate your devotion to your 
 parents." 
 
 He had taken her arm within his and felt it tremble : 
 " You are cold," he said. 
 
 " Oh no ! the night is so beautiful ! let me walk with 
 you, I have something to say to you." 
 
 Her manner was so pressing that he complied at 
 once. 
 
 " Not here," she continued, '' let us go out of this
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 235 
 
 garden ; take me out on the hill, where none can hear 
 us. I have a great secret to tell you." 
 
 " Flora," he said, in a tone of anxious, tremulous en- 
 quiry, " you cannot surely have done anytliing wrong ? " 
 and he paused as he gazed at her fair forehead, rendered 
 at that moment ghastly pale by the moonlight. 
 
 " Dear father, could I look at you thus in the face, if 
 I w^ere not the same Flora you have fondled in your 
 arms as a little child ? " 
 
 Her calm tone and loving eyes reassured him, he went 
 out at the garden gate with her, and they wandered on the 
 hill, he several times asking her whether it were time to 
 stop, and she always replied: "No! let us go farther on". 
 
 They reached the amphitheatre, a mimic representa- 
 tion of the Coliseum of Eome, and built likewise by 
 Roman hands, for the colony established here sought 
 out varied amusements for themselves, as they had 
 been accustomed to do in the capital of the civilised 
 world. They passed under the solemn arches into the 
 arena, and the girl gazed into the blue expanse, where 
 myriads of twinkling stars looked down on her, like so 
 many silent witnesses of her faith, and of her God's 
 glory. Would it be given her thus one day to stand in 
 broad daylight in the arena, to brave public shame and 
 declare herself boldly for God's holy cause, would an 
 increase of strength be given her in that hour ? Yea ! 
 even as now when she had to speak the truth, braving 
 her father's anger. 
 
 " Will you take me to sit down 1 " she said, " I am 
 exhausted."
 
 236 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 He wrapped his cloak kindly round her, raised her 
 in his arms, went up with her the little steps leading to 
 the seats of the spectators, and then, sitting by her side, 
 "Now tell me, child," he said, "what is it agitates you?" 
 
 "Alas!" she said, "do not fold me in your arms while 
 I confess to you what may appear wrong in your eyes, 
 but God Who sees my heart knows it to be pure." 
 
 She knelt before him and laid her head on his knees, 
 saying : " Have I been a good daughter to you, father ? " 
 
 " Yes, girl ! and may the choicest rewards filial piety 
 deserves fall upon your head ! " 
 
 " Do you esteem my beloved mother ? Does Lauren- 
 tius answer to your wishes ? Have you found in 
 Claudius an honest, faithful slave ? " 
 
 " Whence these questions ? As for myself, I acknow- 
 ledge gratefully that my own household is a paragon of 
 moral virtue." 
 
 " Father, deign to forgive my mother who, wishing to 
 form children worthy of you, imbued them with prin- 
 ciples of truth, justice, and universal love. Forgive 
 Siona that, seeking to make my brother and me vir- 
 tuous, she made us Christians, and embraced herself the 
 precepts of that faith." 
 
 Florentius rose suddenly ; a cry of horror escaped 
 him, and he relaxed his hold of his daughter, who, fall- 
 ing on the stone steps, remained stunned and motion- 
 less. His paternal feelings instantly rose above his 
 anger, and bending over her, he asked: "Are you hurt?" 
 
 She did nob hear him ; he raised her and chafed her 
 hands ; she was not insensible, but so frightened that
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 237 
 
 she could not speak, till tears came to her relief. He 
 repeated his question. 
 
 "I am hurt, indeed," she answered, "if you be 
 offended." 
 
 " Child ! the revelation you have made to me has cer- 
 tainly called forth my deepest anger. You a Christian, 
 and my wife likewise 1 my boy too, my adopted son ! " 
 
 " Would you have him adore the pretended divinities 
 of stone and wood which you yourself despise ? " 
 
 " We cannot desert the gods of Rome ! " 
 
 "Do you believe in them, father? will you answer me 
 in this hour when there are none by to hear us, but the 
 Uncreated God ? " 
 
 " Ha ! One God ! Is that what Christians teach ? 
 Plato thought that too, and so did Socrates, yet, at the 
 last hour, he ordered a cock to be sacrificed to ^scul- 
 apius." 
 
 " There is but One God, father ! " and the girl, 
 encouraged by her parent's kindness, ceased to weep, 
 stood up on the stone step where she had been resting, 
 and, with her outstretched arm pointing to the clear 
 heavens above, gave way to the sudden impulse which 
 moved her to speak. 
 
 "There is but One God," she said, slowly and solemnly, 
 " and He reigns there. We are all of us, naturally, so 
 convinced of this, that when we implore a superior 
 Power, we look up to Heaven, and we expect all good 
 to come to us from above. Yet He that made all things 
 is everywhere. He surrounds us ; this world, created by 
 Him, is full of His Presence ; He that gave us a high
 
 238 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 intelligence is superior to His own works, and our very 
 minds are contained in His. A Divine Essence fills the 
 universe ; and we, half of earth, half of heaven, must 
 struggle day by day to become more virtuous, more 
 worthy of that great end for which we were made. 
 "When, purified by our own exertions, and by His help, 
 Who is ever by us, we seem to men to die, it is then only 
 we bei^in to live anew in another world, where sorrow 
 shall be no more, and virtue obtain its reward." 
 
 " Something of what you say, girl, figures also in the 
 teaching of the sages of Greece, and, were I young as 
 you, then I might be tempted to study the doctrines you 
 describe ; but a man must abide by the convictions of 
 his ancestors, and if I permit you to practise a religion 
 you love, as I must infer from your words and the tenor 
 of your life, Laurentius must worship wdth me the gods 
 of Eome." 
 
 " Oh lather, he could not act against liis conscience ; 
 do not ask him to obey you on that point, for if he 
 yielded even exteriorly, it would only be feigning to adore 
 that which his heart detests. Is it not enough that a 
 forced dissimulation has hitherto kept his religion a 
 mystery from you ? The secret has, I am sure, weighed 
 on his heart as on mine, but now, that in the fulness of 
 my reason, and freedom of my will, I come to confide 
 to you wiiat we hold most dear, our religion, do not 
 force him to abjure it, do not abuse our confidence; 
 be not to us an enemy more to be feared than the 
 Eoman Prefect, because your influence would be that 
 of love, but be to us a wise, indulgent, forgiving father."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 239 
 
 " Will Laurentius fulfil all the duties of a Eoman 
 citizen, if I cede to your request ? " 
 
 " He will ! " exclaimed the girl triumphantly, seeing 
 she was gaining ground ; " he will be to you all your 
 heart could wish. I pledge my word that Laurentius 
 will leave behind him such a name as both his country 
 and you will glory in." 
 
 "I do think/' continued the philosopher musing, 
 " your doctrine is not far removed from Plato's." 
 
 " I can only say this, that to all who are wise and 
 good, a first great cause appears to be a primary neces- 
 sity." 
 
 "If Christians reason thus, and do not commit 
 crimes ? " . . . 
 
 " They do not ! " 
 
 " But their secret meetings, their murders in the dark, 
 the child given as a midnight repast." 
 
 " All these assertions are false, as false as the pagan 
 gods. We assemble to pray in secret ; we hide, because 
 it is not right to expose ourselves in vain. Murder is 
 with us a heinous crime, unexpiable but by long years 
 of penance. In the repast you allude to, which I may 
 one day explain to you perhaps, we receive bread which 
 we break together ; our feasts are assemblies of a reli- 
 gious nature, they almost aU include a distribution of 
 alms to the poor." 
 
 " I must needs believe what my child affirms, for I 
 have never known you to speak anything but the truth, 
 and this concealment has been the first act of deceit I 
 ever knew you to practise."
 
 240 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " It was unavoidable, father. My fidelity to my God 
 enjoined that I should dread all exposure that might 
 in the slightest degree make me swerve from His ser- 
 vice ; but now, how glad I am to think that you know 
 all. May I assure my mother of your forgiveness ? " 
 
 " You may tell her," and he clasped her to his arms, 
 " that the religion which has formed a heart like yours 
 has my approbation ; but let it remain as hitherto, 
 secret. Let no one know that Christianity has pene- 
 trated the household of Florentius, lest he should 
 become an object of reproach in Eome. And now, dear 
 child, the moon has described much of her orbit since we 
 left the house together, we must return. This has 
 been a solemn hour to us both ; I rejoice to have read 
 into your heart, for, pure as I know that sanctuary to be, 
 it oucrht never to have been closed to a father's gaze." 
 
 She could only kiss his hands and repeat : " Forgive 
 me ! " for she was more moved than he was. 
 
 They went down, through the wood and the olive 
 groves, undisturbed but by the silvery leaf which fell in 
 the grass slowly, and almost at stated intervals, like a 
 measure of time, telling the progress of the night : now 
 a plaintive note arose from the nightingale, and Flora 
 thought of the mysteriousness of life, cheered yet for her 
 by the hopes and passing joys which never desert the 
 young. What would be her path through it ? dark and 
 hidden like this her passing through the trees, yet 
 directed to a certain, unerring goal, and through its 
 course she would rest on the arm of God even as now 
 on her father's.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 " "VTALE, my noble master ; vale, my little lord, may 
 V you become the pride and joy of your parents ! 
 Vale, my beloved mistress, when we meet above, may 
 I be permitted to recognise in you the first soul it was 
 given me to bring to God. Flora, my lady and my 
 child ! it is hard to say good bye to you, for the tie 
 which links you to your old slave is not an ordinary 
 one, my own offspring has hardly a greater claim on me 
 than you ; I promised for you that you would be faith- 
 ful to the baptismal vows registered above. I shall pre- 
 cede you to the dread account, for years have already 
 stricken me. May it be my reward to await you in the 
 Eternal Mansions ! and oh how great will be my joy " — 
 here his voice sank to a whisper, lest the bystanders 
 should hear — " if 1 see you there, wearing the white stole 
 of those who follow the Spotless Lamb, if the crown of 
 martyrdom sit on your brow, if the prophecy of Martina 
 be fulfilled, and Flora enter Heaven a Martyr Bride ! " 
 
 " Amen ! " said the girl, and, taking within her small 
 patrician hands the strong muscular fingers which had 
 grown hard on the battle-field and in toil, she stooped 
 over them, and he felt them moistened with her hot 
 tears. " Vcdete, all my brother slaves," he continued, 
 
 " be faithful to our master Florentius, and to the Great 
 
 16
 
 242 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Master some of us have served together : to all of you, 
 Claudius bids a grateful farewell ! " 
 
 The mariners called aloud, repeating again and again 
 their shrill whistle, the signal of departure, the slave 
 once more waved his hands, then, raising them on high, 
 commended all those he left to a Superior Power. Again 
 they would have pressed round him, but he was gone ! 
 
 How mournful, yet how soothing to our sorrow, is 
 the sight of a vessel which bears away a friend : it re- 
 mains so long in sight, that we can scarce tell which 
 has been the exact moment of its disappearance or of 
 our parting. There is the sea between us ; yet we 
 hardly feel we are separated, so long as the fleeting ship 
 still appears above the waves, and the very waters, as 
 they come to our feet, seem in their rushing sounds, and 
 stifled language, to bring us messages from the absent 
 one, fast disappearing to sight. All the family of 
 Florentius remained long on the beach, watching the 
 sails which bore away the British slave to his island 
 home. He had been a friend to all, and it was with 
 real sorrow both masters and fellow-servants deplored 
 his departure. The fact of his having been the first to 
 introduce Christianity into the household was still con- 
 cealed from Florentius, and he regarded him as a faithful 
 domestic who could never be replaced. They went 
 away, speaking of him and of his great worth. 
 
 " Thus will it be for us, Eeparata," said Flora to her 
 friend, " when you and I part : in a few days, that same 
 sea will bear me away from these Ligurian shores. Oh, 
 how happy I have been here ! It has been to me a season
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 243 
 
 of complete forgetfulness : I feel as if the seriousness 
 of life must be resumed when we leave Cimella." 
 
 " \\Tiy do you speak in such a tone of despondency, 
 oh girl of little faith ? " 
 
 " When I return to my country/' continued the 
 young Eoman, " I shall miss so much that I loved 
 in it ; Martina, my beloved preceptress, is gone, and 
 now Claudius." 
 
 " Listen to me, Flora," resumed the other in a tone of 
 admonition, as they walked together, lingering some- 
 what behind the rest. " You have been too much accus- 
 tomed to lean on others, henceforward seek rather to be 
 in your turn a support ; you will find your strength in- 
 crease, and your cheerfulness return. True, you will be 
 required to practise self-abnegation, but with it forti- 
 tude will be given you. When I was in my father's 
 court, flattered, loved, happy, I thought myself incapable 
 of performing any of the duties which I saw done by 
 women of a lowlier condition ; and now see," she said 
 laughing, stretching out her arms, "who would say these 
 were the hands of a princess ? " 
 
 "/ do," exclaimed Flora, taking them within hers and 
 caressing them. " You have not, dearest, fallen from 
 your rank ; your Grecian brow bears still, in my eyes, 
 the diadem it was made for, and I console myself by 
 thinking another more glorious crown awaits it." 
 
 " Do you think so ? Oh, I am not worthy, and be- 
 sides, totally unprepared." 
 
 " So Martina used to say of herself, and yet when 
 her hour came how great was her courage."
 
 244 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " But persecution can never visit this distant land." 
 " I think that when the Pro-consul discovers how 
 much Christianity has spread in Liguria, the first edict 
 which is issued will have due course here ! " 
 
 " And then, the first victim would be my uncle. I 
 hope I shall be able to induce him to conceal himself in 
 another part of the country, for we ought never of our- 
 selves to expose ourselves to trials, which it belongs to 
 God alone to carry us through." 
 
 " I believe my father has asked the noble Pontius to 
 return with us to Eonie, they enjoy each other's society 
 so much, almost as much as you and I." 
 
 " My uncle has not mentioned the subject to me. 
 Are you aware of what his answer was ? " 
 
 " He said he would be glad to acce^Dt for your sake, 
 as it is painful to him to see you lead a life of poverty, 
 devoid of that mental culture to which you were accus- 
 tomed, but for himself, he considers that his post is 
 here. I cannot help thinking that a little persuasion on 
 your part would bring ^him round; do you try and per- 
 suade him, Eeparata, to come and stay with us in Eome, 
 at least for a little time. It is just the place for him, 
 he will meet there with men of superior minds, who will 
 understand liim, but of course we must not tell him 
 that. I like to watch him when he does not perceive 
 it, and see his old enthusiasm for knowledge fire up at 
 the least spark of science my father strikes. It does 
 them good to be together ; try to extract a promise from 
 him that we shall all go together to Eome." 
 
 " I shall ! for certainly I will not separate from him."
 
 Flora : the Roman Marty7\ 245 
 
 A few days after this the two girls stood again on the 
 brow of the hill looking down on the peaceful valley 
 below and the sea beyond. 
 
 A miniature Eome was there, with its temple to 
 Diana, another to Apollo, its Thermae, its Coliseum, its 
 walls of powerful construction, and bricks, baked and 
 cemented, as if in Eome ; but it was not this attracted 
 the young friends, the face of nature was to them a 
 greater holiday. 
 
 " You are sad," observed Flora to Eeparata ; " do you 
 regret leaving Liguria to come to Eome with us ? " 
 
 " Oh no ! that is delightful, and my uncle likes the 
 idea so much. But that sea ! I can never look at it 
 without an expectant feeling, as if it were to give me 
 up my dead ; when I hearken to its murmur, I imagine 
 I hear the groans of my dear ones moaning over their 
 Purgatory under its watery billows." 
 
 " Come away, clulcissima, I know by experience how 
 wrong it is to give way to melancholy faucies." 
 
 " Xay ! I love to dwell in spirit with the departed ; 
 those waves which closed over them may have cleansed 
 their souls from sin, if, as I hope, they repented in that 
 hour, and desired eternal life. I love the sea and its 
 gurgling sound, its beating, sighing, foaming waters! 
 To me it repeats the battle cry of life ; it tells me, in the 
 name of my lost ones, gone unprepared to meet their 
 Judge, that I have for them, and for myself, a double 
 work to do." 
 
 " I suppose that is your motive for persevering in the 
 hard life you have embraced here, and the principle of
 
 246 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 the good you do, young as you are. Do not fear, Eepa- 
 rata, that the hour of the final trial find you unpre- 
 pared." 
 
 " I dreamt last night it had come." 
 " Do not give heed to dreams ! The designs of God 
 are not revealed to us in sleep, as to the patriarchs of 
 old." 
 
 " But this looked so real," pursued the girl, " it haunts 
 me yet. Methought I knelt in an arena like our Coliseum 
 up there, only much larger. I did not find myself 
 transported there at once, as we generally are in sleep, 
 but was led thither slowly, by lictors. I passed through 
 a great Forum, then out of that on a broad, straight 
 road, then under an arch, and I can still call to mind 
 all I saw around me : within that arch were sculptured 
 figures, seemingly taken from Scripture, a seven- 
 branched candlestick, and conquerors bearing away 
 spoils from a temple. I went on, I came before a mda 
 sudans with clear, sparkling water issuing from its 
 orifice, falling over statues, and bubbling at the surface 
 of its white basin ; I was very thirsty, and longed for a 
 drink of that beautiful water, but my guards refused it 
 me ; again we passed under deep archways and covered 
 passages, and I could hear the confused sound of many 
 voices, like unto that of a vast population assembled, 
 and then they united in one great overpowering burst 
 of applause. I understood the Emperor had entered the 
 amphitheatre, for the spectators rose to salute him with 
 the cry : * Poptdi Imperator, Dominus es, primus es 
 omnium I Felicissimus vincis, ah cevo vinces .' ' "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 247 
 
 " All 'you say is strange, Eeparata, more than strange ! 
 Have you ever been in Eome, even as a little child ? " 
 
 " No ! I never left Greece, but to come here." 
 
 " Then I cannot understand how you can describe so 
 accurately the Eoman Forum, the Via Triumphalis, the 
 Coliseum, unless that, as my father says, the mind is 
 independent of the body, and can traverse realms of 
 space at will; but my dear father's opinion may not per- 
 haps be sanctioned by the Church ; in that case, I ought 
 not to emit it. But go on, can you remember more ? " 
 
 " Only the flashing of steel before me, and the cold 
 contact of a sword at my neck, that awoke me, and, as 
 you may suppose, I was much agitated." 
 
 " Did you hear the name of the Emperor, when the 
 people applauded him ? " 
 
 " No ! but it was inscribed on trophies before me ; 
 where shall I trace the Latin characters I saw ? Ah, 
 come here ! " 
 
 She went to a low wall, which was built along the 
 road on the hill for the safety of foot-passengers, took 
 from her shoulder the sharp fibula which fastened her 
 8tola, and, reflecting a little, as if trying to recall some- 
 thing she had seen, she traced slowly the letters which 
 form the name of D E c I u s.* 
 
 " Can you read that ? " she asked her companion; " I 
 am unpractised in Latin characters." 
 
 " It is indeed a Eoman name, but not the Emperor's ; 
 
 * On a wall at the summit of the hill of St. Pons, near Nice, is 
 the name of Decins, engraved as above described, in very ancient 
 characters.
 
 248 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 never did a Decius reign over the Empire, which proves 
 to you, Eeparata, we ought not to put faith in 
 dreams.'* 
 
 " But our hour is not yet come : perhaps this one 
 may yet reign, and his accession be the signal of our 
 being called away." 
 
 " Do not be so fanciful : these are idle, dreamy words." 
 
 " Perhaps so ! but they will dwell with me, and when 
 the tide of my life flows on, I shall look back to this 
 obscure part of it, full of doubts, and fears, and presenti- 
 ments, even as that stream at our feet has issued from a 
 rocky cave, and hewn out its own road, with a force 
 stronger than the secular granite. Have you been to 
 the source ? it is a beautiful spot, one you ought to visit 
 before you leave the country." 
 
 " I have only been to those places you led me to, and 
 heartily admired them ; will you take me to this source, 
 as you call it ? " 
 
 " We must have some of your father's slaves to 
 accompany us with torches, for it is a narrow, lonely 
 valley, growing almost dark, the more we penetrate into 
 its depths." 
 
 " I shall send word to Laurentius to get every one 
 and everything ready, he enjoys all that savours of a 
 discovery ; let us go and ask my mother if the excursion 
 be not too much for her." 
 
 She beckoned to a slave, by whom she sent her 
 message home ; she and her friend following leisurely. 
 
 " What a change has come over your brother of late," 
 observed Eeparata as they went on together; "when first
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr, 249 
 
 I met him in the wood calling you and distressed at 
 having lost his way, he was but a child." 
 
 "The change is always rapid," replied Flora; "have 
 you not felt it, that moment which does the work of 
 years, breaking the bonds of childhood, and making us 
 men and women before our time ? With me, it was the 
 sight of Martina's death worked in me that strange 
 revolution, and I saw it in Laurentius. the first night we 
 assisted at the Mysteries with you. I think he had a 
 vision, wherein his future life was unfolded to him. 
 Perhaps, in that hour, he experienced the effects of 
 a sentence spoken once to the head of our race, but 
 certainly his thoughts and manner have assumed since 
 that night a more solemn tone." 
 
 " And it will be your work, Flora, to complete what 
 the Divine Word has begun in your brother : apply to 
 that all the energies of your mind, and you will find it 
 strengthened and made happier. If God has already 
 permitted you to do so much for that boy, by watching 
 over his early infancy, be sure that a greater task is 
 reserved to you. Perhaps it will be yours to stand by him 
 in those hours when man's failing strength needs the re- 
 storing, gentle help of a sister. Perhaps the martyr's palm 
 may not be awarded him, unless you prepare him to cull 
 itj perhaps, poor Flora, your heart may have to suffer as 
 many deaths as there will be dear ones taken from you. 
 But, if the prescience of friendship speak true, then 
 indeed I foresee for you a great triumph. Absorbed in 
 your self-sacrificing love for those committed to your 
 care, you will be clothed in an invisible armour, which
 
 250 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 will repel the shafts hurled by God's enemies, and screen 
 you alike from the assault of earthly affections. Do not 
 blush, .Flora, your heart cannot be stronger than that of 
 other mortals, you can never become cold or indifferent, 
 for you are more sensitive than others of your age ; but 
 a mighty strength shall be given you, when you devote 
 yourself to be the strength of those around you, and a 
 mighty reward will be yours." 
 
 They had reached the house by this time, and stood 
 outside, still conversing. Flora grasped her friend's 
 hand : " I am so glad to have you," she said, " you seem 
 to know by instinct all that will do me good ". 
 
 Laurentius interrupted them, by bounding over the 
 threshold, with a glee he had not shown for some time : 
 " I am so glad ! " he cried, " and quite ready to join you, 
 sister; I have been studying so hard that my father 
 and I'ontius said I must have some relaxation, so your 
 message came just in time ; shall we go ? " 
 
 " Not till I have asked leave of our parents," replied 
 the girl, "and inquired of them whether they will 
 favour us with their company." 
 
 "I have asked them that already, but they prefer 
 staying at home. My father has begun a wrangle with 
 Pontius as to whether the earth were first formed of fire 
 or water, and that dispute seems likely to last till the 
 consummation of the world ; our mother is making pre- 
 parations for our journey to Eome, so desired me tell 
 you not to wait for her. Shall we go ? " 
 
 " In a moment," she replied, entering the house, from 
 which she soon again issued, and the slaves that usually
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 251 
 
 waited on their masters when they walked out, having 
 gathered round them, she took the lead with her friend. 
 On they went, till the orange groves were passed; 
 above them rose olive trees. They left these behind too, 
 till, rising higher on the hill, they found a region quite 
 different from the smiling plain below. 
 
 "We are going to enter the Obscure Valley," said 
 Eeparata, "and the country people say that they can 
 see the stars shining at noon, when standing in its 
 depths. Of course this is only a fable, but it is not 
 without its moral : as if the light of Heaven, so often 
 eclipsed to us in the noon-day of life, when the world 
 shines brightly and smiles upon us must needs illumine 
 the pilgrim sunk in the depths of adversity." 
 
 " But you seem to believe in the fable, Eeparata, for 
 you desired us bring torches." 
 
 " Only to guide us through certain caverns : see, here 
 is one ! " 
 
 There was a liole in the rock before them, which they 
 would never have noticed, had it not been pointed 
 out. Eeparata crouched down, glided through, and 
 was out of sight in an instant. Flora shrieked with 
 terror, thinking she had fallen into a pit, and ordered 
 the slaves to hurry to her assistance; a merry laugh 
 from within reassured her, and great was her surprise 
 to see all those who had stood round her a moment 
 before, disappear one after the other, as they, each and 
 all, entered the orifice; she wished to follow their 
 example, and asked her brother to help her. She found 
 the passage an easy one : a beautiful sight burst on her
 
 252 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 view ; a subterranean palace seemed to unfold itself, its 
 vaults supported by stalactite columns, in which the 
 lights were reflected with prismatic colours, the walls 
 fantastically sculptured, and displaying a long row of 
 arches; graceful festoons, glittering like so many 
 chandeliers, concealed the rough rocks, and a simul- 
 taneous cry of admiration burst from all. 
 
 " See more," cried Eeparata exultingly, and taking a 
 torch in her hand stood up, on a huge pedestal, and 
 held the light to an aperture whence many vaults and 
 long colonnades of similar structure were visible. 
 
 "How beautiful!" exclaimed Flora. ''How my father 
 would like this ! I wish he had come." 
 
 "And that would have settled the point they are 
 always arguing about," exclaimed Laurentius. " Pontius 
 will have it that water was the first element of the 
 world, and my father says fire. I should have liked 
 them to gaze on this beautiful production of dropping 
 waters." 
 
 "What treasures the earth enfolds in her bosom!" 
 said Eeparata. " I wonder how long this has taken to 
 form." 
 
 " Perhaps since the universal deluge," resumed Flora 
 musing ; " if so, how impressive to find God's word and 
 threats mining the soil, and leaving here and there the 
 stamp of His sovereignty." 
 
 " I shall bring both my father and our visitor here to- 
 morrow," repeated Laurentius; " what a prodigious place! 
 I shall come here every day, as long as we remain at 
 Cimella ; I wish I had known of this grotto before."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 253 
 
 " Oh, but we must not stay very long," observed 
 Eeparata; "remember we have not yet reached the valley 
 I spoke to you about. Come away ! " 
 
 They lingered a little longer to see the sparkling walls 
 recede, as the slaves moved backwards, making their 
 torches play before the crystal surface, then ascended 
 the gradual slope, formed by the accumulation of a 
 watery sediment, which had trickled down the aperture ; 
 and thus they returned to the light of day. 
 
 " That place would make a catacomb," said Flora, as 
 they resumed the narrow path forming the dried-up bed 
 of the river whose track they had been following some 
 time ; " what large tables for our feasts, chairs and 
 altars already carved out, and all so beautiful, it is quite 
 ready for an assembly of the faithful." 
 
 " But the bodies of our dear martyrs ! " observed 
 Laurentius. 
 
 " Surely a crystal tomb like that is as befitting for 
 them as our native tufa," said Flora. 
 
 " No, no ! " he cried, shaking his head, " a Pioman 
 prefers his own tufa bed; the soil he has lived 
 on, toiled on, through life, must needs be mingled with 
 his dust ! Dear Eome ! there was a great one that, 
 stung by his countrymen's ingratitude, forbade thee, 
 alma jpatria, to receive his bones, but such is not the 
 Christian's disinterested affection for thee. Others may 
 revere thee, in that thou wert the mother of heroes, but 
 we cling to thee as to the standing bulwark of our faith ; 
 we glory in thee, because of Peter's teaching, we love 
 thee, great Mother, at whose breasts we imbibed the
 
 2 54 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 sweetness of Christianity, and if a thought of earth may 
 minole with those desires which have well-nigh filled 
 our hearts with Christ, I for my part hope that this my 
 body may rest in Koman soil till the day of resurrection. 
 I can understand that, for those who have no hope be- 
 yond the grave, there is a pang more bitter than death, 
 and that is, exile from their country, but even then, 
 w^hen their eyes must close without seeing it again, it 
 arises before their memory at the last hour. Moritur^ et 
 moriens, choices reminiscihcr Argos" 
 
 The boy had spoken with that enthusiasm which was 
 wont to steal over him at times, and more so of late since 
 he had been stuyding the classics with the learned 
 Pontius. He stopped short ; for Reparata, impressed 
 with the beauty of his words and the remembrance of 
 her own country, had covered her face with her hands, 
 and was striving to conceal her tears ; he felt sorry, and 
 walked on quickly, leaving the ladies together. Flora 
 spoke to her with sisterly sympathy, and then effectually 
 diverted her attention to the change of scenery, and 
 windings of the road, which was getting narrower and 
 narrower as they proceeded. Soon they were obliged to 
 walk one by one, while on either side of them the 
 huge rocks rose almost perpendicular, being a channel 
 through which the mountain torrent had been forcing 
 its way for years. It was very striking to see how that 
 silent stream had done its work, slowly, resolutely, sur- 
 mounting the giant force opposed to it, until it had 
 issued, purified and clear, from the rocks it had cleft 
 through.
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr' . 255 
 
 " And thus," said the young girls, as they communi- 
 cated their reflections to each other, " thus shall our 
 woman's will, gentle, but firm and unyielding, triumph 
 over the strength of our persecutors, thus shall we sur- 
 mount all obstacles and pass on." 
 
 " Yes," added Laurentius, who had been waiting for 
 them on the road, for they had reached the end of the 
 valley and were turning back : " yes ! it shall be so 
 with you both, and I hope with me too. Beyond lies 
 the sea, where the stream finishes its course, even as 
 the Immensity of God will receive our souls to be ab- 
 sorbed for ever in His Divine Essence ; and there we 
 shall, during all eternity, reflect one image, that of the 
 Eternal Sun of Justice." 
 
 The orb of day was fast sinking behind the hill ; they 
 remembered the long walk that lay before them, and 
 proceeded homewards with hurried steps.
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 THEEE is a wind on the sea whicli has been howl- 
 ing all night with an unearthly sound. On dry- 
 land, trees have been torn up from the roots, roofs of 
 houses blown off, men have risen from their beds in the 
 night and asked each other whether the earth were 
 shaken to its foundations. Soothsayers and astrologers 
 explained that a sudden collision had brought the earth 
 in contact with the sun, but the more wise shook their 
 heads, and reckoned on an approaching misfortune. 
 This was the day fixed for a sacrifice in the temple of 
 Jupiter Capitolinus. The Emperor Gordianus, before 
 setting out on an expedition to Persia, was anxious to 
 ascertain the will of the gods. 
 
 During the course of the morning, Adrias, the hus- 
 band of Paulina (whom we have left spending the win- 
 ter at Nicsea with Siona), called on his friend Nemesion. 
 Hearing from the porter that the tribune was at home, 
 he entered with the freedom of an old acquaintance, and 
 went at once to the triclinium where the family were 
 assembled. 
 
 " Ha, friend ! " cried the master of the house. " It is 
 a long time since we have seen you ; do you come to 
 share our repast ? Sit down and welcome."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 257 
 
 " No ! I cannot touch anything to-day, I am too 
 anxions." 
 
 " What is the matter ? " 
 
 " I am expecting my wife and children to return ; 
 they must be out at sea in this fearful weather." 
 
 " The gods preserve them, for no human aid can reach 
 them." 
 
 " I came to you because I knew you would share my 
 anxiety, and besides I want to have prayers offered up 
 for the safety of my dear ones; I wish to offer a sacri- 
 fice to Vesta through the hands of your daughter- 
 priestess." 
 
 " Vain hope ! " exclaimed a girl sitting at the table, 
 whose eyes showed by their changeless expression that 
 their life was gone. " Vain hope ! the gods are cruel, 
 and mock us." 
 
 " Do not use such impious language, Lucilla ! " he 
 replied. 
 
 " She is much altered," explained her mother, apolo- 
 getically. " She used to be pious, contented, even 
 happy, in her misfortune ; we ourselves hardly recog- 
 nise her." 
 
 " Why did you take her from me ? " retorted the girl 
 in a smothered voice. 
 
 " She is ever lamenting her sister," explained Neme- 
 sion. 
 
 " What weather ! " resumed Adrias, returning to his 
 own subject of anxiety. " It is a goodly ship, well 
 stored, that I expect ; but that matters little, I would 
 sacrifice twice its cargo to ensure the safety of my 
 
 17
 
 258 Flora: the Roman Martyr. 
 
 wife, my diildren, besides our common friend, Florentius, 
 and his family." 
 
 " Is Flora with them ? " asked the blind girl. 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? Florentius' daughter is with 
 him, of course, and so are my dear little ones." 
 
 " Flora in danger I " shrieked Lucilla, and rising from 
 her place she came groping in the direction from which 
 Adrias' voice proceeded, and laying her hand on his 
 arm, she grasped it as with a clasp of steel, whispering 
 audibly : " I will not leave you till you have promised 
 to take me to her." 
 
 " But all those I speak of are on the sea, dear child." 
 
 " Then how can you be here when those you love are 
 in danger ? Ah, had I my eyes, nothing should sepa- 
 rate me from Volumnia ; I would be every day at the 
 door of the temple she serves, to receive her morning 
 smile and her evening greeting. I could live on that 
 remembrance, oh how long! Take me, oh take me, to 
 the shore where you expect them, to the banks of the 
 Tiber, where I can hear the sound of the water and 
 wind ; let me but hear, and I will tell you whether 
 they are safe. You ask for prayers to propitiate the 
 gods ; if they will listen to the cry of a broken heart, 
 here is mine ! " 
 
 " Adrias," said her father, " it is seldom in my power 
 to gratify any of her wishes ; but as she is so vehement 
 about this, I wish you would take her with you, to 
 await the arrival of the ship you expect. I know you 
 will care for her, as for your own child." 
 
 " That I will ! " replied the visitor, and receiving her
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 259 
 
 as a sacred charge, he put a fold of his cloak over her 
 to shelter her from the tempest, and led her gently from 
 the house. Her mother would have followed, but 
 Lucilla with a gentle, though firm touch, put her back. 
 
 " It must not be," she said, " the weather is too stormy, 
 no one can brave it but such a one as myself, who see 
 not the world without but my own world within : do 
 not come, mother, leave me to the care of my father's 
 friend." 
 
 She went out, and that storm, coming from the deserts 
 of Lybia, blew into her face with a scorching breath ; 
 she did not heed it. 
 
 They went together to the banks of the Tiber, and 
 stood there all day till sunset, now strolling up and 
 down, now returning to the same spot and waiting. 
 The girl beguiled the time with varied songs, some 
 tremulous and fitful like the breeze, others wild like the 
 sea-gull's cry : there was more of inspiration than of 
 melody in her strain ; and when her companion asked 
 her where she learned all she sang : " Do you not know," 
 she replied, '* that sorrow teaches us to sing ? Cruel 
 men deprive the nightingale of her sight that she may 
 sing the more, according to the measure of her affliction. 
 When A^olumnia was by me I never sang, for she was 
 the voice of my soul, but now I call up my own 
 thoughts to fill up the void." 
 
 The storm continued to rage for three days, as is 
 customary for the wind that comes from the desert. 
 Each day that man and that girl were at their post 
 watching : others came to join them, till there grew to
 
 26o Flora .- the Roman Martyr. 
 
 be a crowd on the Tiber's banks, watching for the ship 
 that was expected from Liguria ; by and by the wind 
 abated, and their hopes rose. 
 
 The sacrifice which had been appointed to take place 
 in the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus was delayed on 
 account of the weather, but on this morning the sun rose 
 brightly in a cloudless sky, nature was clothed in ver- 
 dure and freshness : the branches torn from the trees of 
 the Palatine hill and uprooted shrubs bore witness to the 
 late conflict of the elements, while the laurels at the 
 Emperor's door were cloven to the very centre : a fear- 
 ful omen ! the tree of Daphne had never yet been known 
 to be scathed by the god of fire, and now it was 
 scorched by lightning ! 
 
 A procession of priests, all veiled, came to fetch the 
 Emperor Pontiff and escort him to the temple. Young 
 Gordian issued from the palace, clothed in his sacerdotal 
 robes ; the sacrificators leading the milk-white heifer 
 he was to offer to Juno awaited him at the foot of the 
 hill ; the procession formed. Just as they were falling 
 into their ranks, a strange, hollow laugh was heard, 
 which seemed to come from the very earth at the 
 Emperor's feet ; he turned deadly pale. An Augur was 
 at his side : " Let not the divine Augustus be surprised," 
 he said, " if the spirits of the Palatine be heard, for it 
 was they sent the storm ; but, fear not ! the genius of 
 Gordian will prevail ". 
 
 Then the Emperor and his retinue wended their way 
 down the hill, and disappeared. 
 
 At the same hour, the muddy waters of the Tiber
 
 Flo7^a : the Roman Martyr. 261 
 
 flowed on, under a bright sun : " How peaceful that 
 sound is ! " said Lucilla, " it brings good news ! " Again 
 she listened, and this time a messenger came in sight ; 
 her quick ear had detected the sound of his footsteps. 
 Adrias had stationed some of his men at different places 
 along the river, and these now came to announce that 
 the long-expected ship had been stopped at some miles* 
 distance from Eome, it could not proceed further, owing 
 to the Tiber having overflowed its banks. 
 
 " Let us go and meet it ! " cried Lucilla at once ; " I 
 can ride with you. Do not leave me behind, I entreat 
 you ; remember that my father allowed me to stay with 
 you, till they arrive ; I cannot endure any longer sus- 
 pense, I must know whether they are safe ! " 
 
 Adrias, as anxious for her sake as for his own, ordered 
 his slaves to go for the small chariot which he was in 
 the habit of using when he went of a morning to the 
 country to inspect his farms ; he took Lucilla by the 
 hand, and walked on, until they met the vehicle, which 
 he mounted at once, alone with her. There was no 
 room for more, and the good merchant drove himself. 
 Both were perfectly silent during the drive ; fear and 
 anxiety seemed to stifle their very breath. What if the 
 vessel had been carried away by the rapid overflow of 
 the waters ? what if it were stranded on the banks ? 
 
 Presently they came to a place where a great crowd 
 were assembled : people on the river-side were calling 
 out to each other ! . . . were those cries of danger ? No ! 
 they seemed to be the expression of sympathy and rejoic- 
 ing with their fellow creatures who had escaped from peril.
 
 262 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Adrias alighted, and helped the blind girl out. The 
 crowd opened : familiar voices called out " Father ". 
 Another moment, and Adrias pressed his wife in his 
 arms, while their little children hung about them. 
 
 " How had they fared ? " he asked, " what had 
 liappened ? had they been in danger ? " But they were 
 so happy, they could not answer these questions, or even 
 hear them, till Elorentius, coming up, greeted his old 
 friend heartily, and explained how they had been 
 obliged to disembark in this spot, the ship having been 
 stranded on sands which had accumulated in the river 
 owing to the number of trees that had been torn up in 
 the tempest and impeded the current. '' But all your 
 merchandise is safe, Adrias ! " he added. 
 
 " Then I shall devote the greater part of my profits to 
 a sacrifice of thanksgiving to the gods, in honour of your 
 safe arrival. I was beginning to fear we should not all 
 of us meet again." 
 
 "And I had the like misgiving, but my daughter 
 Elora kept up our spirits ; she seemed so certain that no 
 harm would befall us." 
 
 Meanwhile, Flora had thrown her arms round her 
 poor blind friend, holding her in a fond embrace ; the 
 meeting was one of thrilling emotion to both. Since 
 Lucilla had lost her sister, she had become the especial 
 charge of Flora, who endeavoured to hold the place of 
 her that w^as gone, and the girl, with that concentrated 
 affection peculiar to those who do not live in the 
 exterior world, had clung to her young benefactress with 
 an intensity which had rendered the pain of separation
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 263 
 
 almost too acute to bear. Poor girl ! she listened to every 
 tone of her voice, and, feeling her face all over, and 
 smoothing her hair : " You are changed, Flora, your 
 cheeks have filled up, you are stronger, your voicelis 
 clearer, and it sounds more happy. Oh, now I am glad 
 you went away, for I see it was for your good. But 
 what has altered you so ? " 
 
 " I think this kind friend is the cause of my change 
 for the better," replied Flora, as, leaving her for an 
 instant, she went back to the group assembled round 
 Adrias, and, leading out a young girl whose hand she 
 laid in Lucilla's : " This," she said, " is a friend I met in 
 Liguria ; she is to be our guest for some time, and I trust 
 you too, dear Lucilla, will find a friend in her ; her name 
 is Keparata." 
 
 A passing shadow of anxiety was discernible on 
 Lucilla's countenance ; she shrank at first from contact 
 with a stranger; but the young Greek took her hand 
 soothingly, caressingly, and spoke to her so sweetly, 
 that the bruised spirit felt the healing influence of girlish 
 genuine friendship. 
 
 " You must be fair," she observed inquiringly, " for 
 there is music in your voice." 
 
 " Indeed ! I do not know," replied the other laughing ; 
 " lay your hand on my face, and judge for yourself." 
 
 Lucilla did so and was satisfied : " May the gift of 
 beauty," she said, and her voice grew stifled with the 
 emotion of a painful recollection, " prove less fatal to 
 you, stranger, than it has to many. I allude, in parti- 
 cular, to one whom I love, who has become to me as dead."
 
 264 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Eeparata had not time to ask for an explanation, for 
 while they had been talking preparations were being 
 made for conveying the weary travellers to Eome. 
 Lettigas were now ready, each of the ladies ascended her 
 own, aad slaves supported the poles, which were run 
 through rings fastened at the sides. A goodly train 
 surrounded them, for by this time slaves, clients and 
 parasites, belonging to the separate famihes of Adrias 
 and Florentius, all had heard the good news, and came 
 to congratulate their masters. They all marched in 
 order to the Ostian gate, where, to their surprise, they 
 found a guard of soldiers more numerous than usual, all 
 drawn up and under arms. Nemesion was too much 
 accustomed to military command not to discern some- 
 thing very determined in the sentries' mien ; he went up 
 to the tribune at their head, and asked in a whisper : 
 " What has occurred during my absence ? surely there 
 are no signs of insurrection, I hope ? " 
 
 " No ! but when our Lord and Emperor ascended the 
 steps of the temple to offer sacrifice to Jupiter Capito- 
 linus, an attempt was made against his august life. In 
 the confusion, the criminal escaped, and we are guard- 
 ing the gates lest he should leave Eome." 
 
 Nemesion uttered a suppressed cry of horror : " Is the 
 sacred person of Gordianus wounded ? " he asked. 
 
 " Only slightly ! The dagger, men say, was wielded 
 by the hand of a maniac, and consequently the blow was 
 iU-directed." 
 
 " Who ? what ! " stammered Nemesion, " if the 
 criminal has not been taken, how do you know him ? "
 
 Flora : the Rornan Martyr. 265 
 
 The centurion took him into the guard-house, which 
 was empty. 
 
 "If you want to hear more, remain here," he said, 
 " and bid your party go in through the gate ; they have 
 my permission to enter Eome." 
 
 J^emesion followed the, suggestion, and consigning 
 his daughter to the care of Adrias, he returned to the 
 appointed place ; he looked uneasy and pale. 
 
 " IN'oble ISTemesion," began the centurion, " it grieves 
 me to afflict you, but you had better hear the truth from 
 me who have so much reason to be devoted to you, and 
 whom I know you will trust. Eeturn to your home by 
 a short cut across the fields, and do not let yourself or 
 yours be seen in the streets for some days, lest suspicion 
 should attach to you. He who sought your daughter's 
 hand and was disappointed in his suit, Icilius who went 
 mad when Yolumnia became a Vestal, has been often 
 met wandering in a wild mood at the foot of Mount 
 Palatine, uttering threats which no one heeded at the 
 time ; they were considered the ravings of a madman, 
 but now, this attack on our Lord the Emperor is sup- 
 posed to proceed from him — the more so, that he is not 
 to be found anywhere." 
 
 Nemesion veiled his head with a part of his toga to 
 conceal his emotion, and his heaving breast told his 
 indignation. 
 
 After some silence: "It is only a suspicion," he 
 observed, "it may be ill-founded". 
 
 " Vox po'puli, vox Dei!' replied the other, " I am afraid 
 that in this instance the saying is but too true ; the
 
 266 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 maniac was always to be seen in every public show 
 that drew a crowd together ; this day he has suddenly 
 disappeared, and the popular outcry repeats his name." 
 
 " Ah ! the fates are cruel to me and mine. I have 
 ever gloried in being a Eoman. To-day, for the first 
 time, my birthright weighs upon me." 
 
 " Hide yourself, Nemesion, for it is well known this 
 wretched youth was about to marry your daughter, and 
 some of his disgrace may be fastened upon you." 
 
 " Alas ! had their innocent affection been respected, 
 how much better it would have been for all of us. The 
 shivering to pieces of that poor boy's heart produced 
 the smouldering fire of revenge. But how did the 
 dreadful act take place ? " 
 
 " The procession was slowly ascending to the temple 
 of Jupiter Capitolinus, the young Emperor, his head 
 veiled, and temples bound with the sacerdotal fillet, 
 followed the milk-white heifer which was to be sacri- 
 ficed to Juno. Before entering the sacred edifice, he 
 stopped and turned round, perhaps to gaze on a dark 
 cloud of sinister shape. It looked like a winged eagle 
 with talons, hovering over the Mount Palatine. All 
 present saw the omen, and some would have turned 
 Gordian away, but his piety prevailed. He went to the 
 altar where incense was smoking, took himself the 
 golden knife which was to immolate the victim ; but, 
 with a compassion becoming his youthful age, turned 
 away his head. The heifer fell under the stroke of the 
 high priest, and its entrails and heart were immediately 
 taken out to be examined ; an unaccountable deformity
 
 Flora : tJie Roman Ma^^tyr. 267 
 
 was noticeable in the animal's liver, though nothing 
 could exceed its spotless beauty, as the people had 
 noticed, when it passed in their midst wdth gilded horns 
 and crowned head. The priests showed the Emperor 
 the signs of a great misfortune, perhaps his own 
 approaching doom, foretold by the gods ; he turned 
 away shuddering. He did not leave the altar hurriedly, 
 however, but knelt down and prayed. It was this act 
 of piety that saved his life ; for, just as he dropped on 
 his knees, a hand directed against him missed its aim, 
 and inflicted but a slight wound. Gordian did not 
 stagger, but rose to his feet with a strength and dignity 
 that would have befitted a Ca3sar advanced in years. 
 He looked round in the direction from which the blow 
 had come, but the crowd had closed upon our beloved 
 Emperor. No one had seen the assassin, some had 
 heard a strange laugh which they ascribed to spirits, 
 but others remembered that sound of hollow merriment 
 was familiar to the unfortunate Icilius ; popular indig- 
 nation immediately fixed itself on the maniac of Mount 
 Palatine, and every one is on the look-out for him." 
 
 "Friend," resumed Nemesion, in a tone of calm 
 energy, "I thank you for having told me all, but I 
 shall not seek concealment. A soldier and a Eoman, 
 I have no reason to stand aloof from my sovereign, 
 even if calumny should malign my name. I will go to 
 him this moment, ready to give up my command if he 
 suspect me, but, at any rate, anxious to show him how 
 free I esteem myself from suspicion." 
 
 "Do as you will, Nemesion ; men such as you have
 
 268 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 seldom to fear for their own faults, but often suffer for 
 those of others." 
 
 The centurion pressed the hand of his friend, bid him 
 farewell, and directed his steps, as he had said he 
 would, towards the palace of the Caesars. 
 
 Meanwhile the slaves went on, bearing the lettigas to 
 their respective homes. When Adrias had seen 
 Lucilla's father engaged in conversation at the Ostian 
 gate, he had left his own party to take charge of the 
 blind girl, and walked by her side= Her sense of 
 hearing was so acute, that she could discern his 
 presence from his breathing alone, and said : " You 
 have taken my father's place ; why has he remained 
 behind ? " 
 
 " To give orders to the soldiers at the gate, I suppose ; 
 do not be uneasy, Lucilla." 
 
 " No ! I am happy to-day and will give way to the 
 mood, which is a new one to me. I have not yet saluted 
 the lady Paulina, so confused and hurried was our meet- 
 ing. And your children, how are they, have they grown?" 
 
 " Yes ! but I too may say I have hardly had time to 
 see them, in the joy of recovering those who I feared 
 were lost." 
 
 " The air is getting more light and expanded ; I think 
 we have reached an open space. I hear the sound of 
 the flowing Tiber. I feel we are in the vicinity of 
 Vesta's temple, something tells me so. Is it not true ?" 
 
 " Yes ! what a strange instinct is yours." 
 
 " Tell them to set me down here, I must breathe the 
 same air as Volumnia, were it only for a little while."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 269 
 
 " Lucilla, you have shown great courage during the 
 last few days you have been under my charge, you 
 must not give way to your feelings now." 
 
 "■ I shall not falter, I shall remain perfectly quiet ; 
 only let me stay here for a very few minutes, do gTatify 
 me. I ask it in the name of your little ones, you can- 
 not refuse that appeal." 
 
 Adrias knew too well the depth of feeling which lay 
 in that simple request ; he could not, indeed, refuse the 
 poor girl, so, requesting Florentius to escort the other 
 ladies, he desired the bearers of Lucilla's lettiga to stop, 
 lifted her out, and then, taking her hand to lead her : 
 " What do you wish for now, self-willed girl ? " he said 
 kindly. 
 
 " That you take me to the temple where my sister is 
 imprisoned, and though I cannot visit her now, as my 
 mother must always be present at our interviews, at 
 least I can feel those walls, and imprint a kiss on them. 
 Ah ! if you knew the love which unites Yolumnia and 
 myself, you would understand how her spirit will be 
 gladdened, if I only pass here, although she do not see 
 me." 
 
 " Poor child ! living secluded in the solitary world of 
 your own heart you imagine strange things." 
 
 He took her as she had desired to one of the columns 
 that supported the temple of Yesta ; they were eleven in 
 number, she knew them well, and went round counting 
 them. There was, attached to the temple, a building 
 where the priestesses dwelt, when not on active service. 
 Lucilla knew that too, and felt her way along the wall
 
 270 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 in that direction ; there was a narrow passage, roofed 
 over, leading from that to the sacred edifice, into which 
 air and light were admitted by means of small windows, 
 covered with iron gratings. Lucilla applied her ear to 
 one of these ; she listened, and gradually consternation 
 became visible in her countenance, she seized the hand 
 of Adrias and whispered : " There is a man concealed 
 here ". 
 
 " What are you dreaming of, Lucilla ? do not even 
 hint at such a thing." 
 
 " I know perfectly how dangerous it is to make a dis- 
 covery of this kind, but, nevertheless, I hear a man's 
 breathing, it is half -suppressed, almost smothered ; do 
 you look in and see whether I am mistaken." 
 
 Adrias was startled at her decided manner, yet terri- 
 fied at the idea of being implicated in a sacrilege ; he 
 looked in at the window where she had been listening, 
 and there saw a human form crouching, concealed 
 under a toga, which was soiled and torn. The face was 
 covered, but long locks of matted hair were visible ; a 
 fearful suspicion crossed his mind. " Profane intruder," 
 he cried, " what dost thou seek in the holiest sanctuary 
 of Eome ? Begone 1 or the gods will crush thee, and 
 men will slay." 
 
 The figure rose, came to the window, uttered a low 
 demon-like laugh. Lucilla heard, and suppressing a 
 shriek of anguish, stretched out her hands : " Begone ! " 
 she cried, " madman and unworthy, would you lose my 
 sister ? " 
 
 " I lost her long ago," he answered, in a tone which
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 271 
 
 had not its usual wiklness. " I come here to save 
 her." 
 
 " Come away ! " cried the bhnd girl vehemently ; 
 " tear him away, brave Adrias, you are stronger than he 
 is. Or, wait ! let me first try gentleness. Be good, 
 Icilius," she resumed, adopting the tone she thought 
 might soothe him, " try and find out the place you 
 entered at, and come away, come ! " 
 
 "Do you see that iron grating yonder^? I tore it down 
 with a strength I have long been preparing in secret. 
 Ha ! ha ! the maniac is clever ! " and he chuckled. 
 
 " Come to me, Icilius, or we must call the guards." 
 
 *' They are seeking for me ! they will soon find me ; 
 blood has a strong scent ! Ha ! smell my hands, Lucilla, 
 they are perfumed with an enemy's blood ! but I did 
 not strike deep enough, I did not wound his heart as he 
 did mine ! " Here the madman grew thoughtful, and 
 it was fearful to see the sudden change in him. 
 
 A low, solemn chant w^as now heard, the vestals were 
 going to the shrine ; an inner door opened, and a blaze 
 of light illumined the narrow, covered passage. They 
 were only six in number, besides the Grand Vestal ; the 
 youngest walked first, carrying the wood to renew the 
 sacred fire. The unfortunate Icilius, instead of escaping, 
 as he had been urged to do, turned round to face the 
 priestesses ; he recognised Volumnia . . . . no 
 incoherent exclamation escaped him, but before any one 
 could prevent him, he knelt down, touched the long 
 flowing suffihuhtm or veil she wore, and kissed it 
 respectfully.
 
 272 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 A low murmur of indignation was uttered by the 
 young girls, who knew not whether to advance or 
 retreat. 
 
 " Sacrilegious and accursed ! " cried the Grand Vestal, 
 " how comest thou here ? dare not to pollute that sacred 
 veil with thy touch. Didst thou come to rob the sanc- 
 tuary ? Fly 1 lest the vengeance of Heaven and men 
 pursue thee." 
 
 Icilius was now weeping : for a long time his over- 
 wrought passions had dried up the source of his tears, 
 but now they fell abundantly, and his unsettled reason 
 seemed to be regaining its ascendancy : he was calm 
 and subdued. 
 
 " I have sinned ! " he cried, " but do not let my fault 
 be visited on her ; she did not know of my coming." 
 
 Lucilla had remained clinging to the iron bars of the 
 little window during this scene, nor could all the efforts 
 of Adrias tear her away. Now, the guards who con- 
 tinually watched in the vicinity of the temple came up, 
 and rudely ordered her away. Immediately the Grand 
 Vestal appeared at the door of the temple, and, calling 
 the lictors, committed to their charge the intruder who 
 had been found in that inner part of the temple where 
 no one but the High Priest could ever penetrate. They 
 immediately closed round him, while the unhappy 
 Volumnia called on the goddess she served, on the 
 Vestals her sisters, to bear witness to the purity of her 
 life. All loved her, but they hardly knew how to con- 
 sole her, for they knew how full of danger was the least 
 suspicion that fell on Vesta's priestess.
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 273 
 
 Bystanders had congregated round the sacred edifice ; 
 some came from idle curiosity, but the compassion of 
 others was attracted by the evident sufferings of Lucilla, 
 who lay, gasping for breath, in the arms of Adrias ; they 
 took her to the nearest house, and restored her suffi- 
 ciently to be placed in a lettiga and conveyed away. 
 
 At the same time, a tramping of horses announced 
 the arrival of the Prsetorian guard ; they rode right into 
 the middle of the crowd. What was their errand ? 
 
 " They came," they said, " to seek for the parricide 
 who had attempted the life of their Emperor, he was 
 supposed to have fled in this direction." 
 
 A strange feeling of presentiment ran through the 
 crowd, and it was soon realised. Icilius, already in the 
 hands of the lictors, now raised his voice, which was 
 calm and firm : " Seek no more ! " he said, " I confess 
 my guilt, in the hope that it may explain my taking 
 refuge in this sanctuary, to which let no other suspicion 
 be attached. I attempted the Emperor's life, out of a 
 motive of private revenge. T had sworn to do so, on 
 the day that my promised bride was consecrated by him 
 to Vesta. This very morning I resolved to carry out 
 my project, but failed. Knowing that my life was at 
 stake, and led by a secret instinct which prevailed over 
 my wandering mind, I sought this asylum, the most 
 sacred of Eome. Had I simply clung to the altar of 
 the goddess, my life might have been spared, but the 
 yearnings of my distracted heart led me to the inner 
 sanctuary, where no profane person can enter. I have 
 seen once more the consecrated maiden who was mine, 
 
 18
 
 2 74 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 before the gods took her : since the day she entered this 
 temple, I had never crossed her path. I attest that she 
 is as pure as the day she left her mother's arms to be- 
 come a Vestal. The very sight of her and the agonising 
 fear lest her good name suffer from my folly have 
 sufficed to restore my reason. I conjure you all to 
 believe me, and confirm my attestation of Volumnia's 
 innocence." 
 
 He held out his hands for the links that were to bind 
 him, but, before doing so, waved them in token of fare- 
 well towards the goddess. The Grand Vestal hastened 
 from the temple, bearing away the youngest virgin, who 
 had swooned.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE shades of evening were gathering around, with 
 that rapidity, peculiar to southern climates, where 
 there is hardly any interval between sunset and night- 
 fall. Flora sat with her mother, in the imphwium of 
 their villa, on the Aventine Hill, where they watched 
 the last glimpses of daylight, falling on Siona's many 
 coloured weaving. The loom rose and fell, while Flora 
 mechanically passed the shuttle, but her thoughts were 
 far away, and her mother had more than once to remind 
 her she must change the shade of the wool. After 
 repeated mistakes: "Give up trying to help me, dear 
 child," said Siona, "you only set me wrong. Persons are 
 differently constituted ; when I am depressed with sad 
 thoughts I labour and work them off; you, on the con- 
 trary, fall into an uncontrollable fit of dreaminess." 
 
 " Yes, dear mother, forgive me, but I cannot help 
 thinking of them ; I fancy I see poor Volumnia's white 
 robes in every cloud that passes, and as the shadows 
 grow more distinct, when night comes on, I feel afraid 
 to be alone." 
 
 " Flora ! this is a return of the complaint you suffered 
 from at the death of Martina : you must gather up your 
 energies, remembering you have many duties assigned 
 to you. Do not allow womanly weakness to betray you 
 into useless and morbid sensibility."
 
 276 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 The girl kissed her mother's hand, and, as it was grow- 
 ing dark, they left the impluvium, carr}dng their work 
 implements to the aula, the most important apartment 
 on the ground floor of every Roman house, and generally 
 decorated with taste. They found Reparata there, sing- 
 ing to a lyre she held in her hand. An adept in the fine 
 arts familiar to her own land, she had found in Floren- 
 tius' house much of the music that had belonged to 
 Cecilia, and resumed with joy her long- forgotten instru- 
 ment. The young Greek had become so dear to Siona 
 and her daughter, that they had extracted a promise from 
 her uncle that she was to be their guest for a long time 
 to come. Pontius himself was not averse from the oppor- 
 tunity thus afforded him of finding intellectual enjoy- 
 ment in the society of the litterati of Rome. His mind, 
 long debarred from the pleasure of learning, now drank 
 in with delight the refreshing draught, from which 
 he knew with Christian discernment how to subtract the 
 deleterious poison of Pagan philosophy. 
 
 " Have you any new strains, dear one," inquired Siona 
 of her interesting young charge, " wherewith to enliven 
 our disconsolate Flora ? " 
 
 " Indeed, lady, I can sing of nothing but woe to-day ; 
 and am watching for the return of your lord Plorentius 
 to know how fares our good Emperor." 
 
 " Strange ! " said Siona, " that a blow so ill-directed 
 should have caused a w^ound that has become so serious! 
 No one thought anything of it at first. Oh, if we lose 
 Gordian, woe to the Empire ! " 
 
 "And woe to those who interest us," added Flora.
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr, 277 
 
 " The unfortunate Icilius might have hoped for pardon 
 from the intercession of a clement minister, but my 
 father says that Gordianus is irritated against the hapless 
 youth, still more for his impiety, in desecrating the 
 temple, than for his attempt at assassination." 
 
 A diversion was occasioned in their conversation by 
 the entrance of Laurentius, who came in with several 
 rolls of vellum bound together by a thong, and strapped 
 over his shoulder. He had just returned from school, 
 and in his girdle was still the bunch of reeds he used 
 for pens. The bloom of health was on his cheek, and a 
 glow of manly beauty on his features ; a pleasant smile 
 was on his lips, and his vigorous frame stood out well 
 defined in the dim twilight. Flora's thoughts reverted 
 to the time when this stripling had come to their home, 
 in early infancy; how her sisterly care had developed 
 him ; how his mind had unfolded, and how much it 
 contained now ! There was the innocence of childhood 
 on that brow, and in that young heart, which had 
 imbibed the spirit of self-sacrifice in the sweet atmo- 
 sphere of home influence, there were noble inclinations, 
 high resolves, and a magnanimous capability for virtue. 
 
 "What has kept you at school so long beyond the 
 usual time, my son ? " asked Siona. 
 
 " I played the truant, mother, on my way home, and 
 wandered about the forum to collect news. Our Em- 
 peror is still a great sufferer. Misitheus hardly ever 
 leaves his bedside, and Philip, prsefect of the guards, 
 transmits the royal orders to the world outside the 
 palace. I do not like the wily Arab : he has already
 
 2/8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 risen very high in favour at court. There are certain 
 natures whose ambition prompts them to crush those 
 who have been instrumental in raising them." 
 
 "Did you hear anything of poor Icilius?" asked Flora. 
 
 " Yes ! at your request, our father has been much 
 concerned for him, and got an excellent lawyer to plead 
 for him before the tribunal, but the popular indignation 
 was so strong they would not listen to the defence, and 
 he has been condemned." 
 
 " Oh God ! and what is his sentence ? " 
 
 " The pain of parricide ! " 
 
 Both Siona and her daughter uttered a cry of anguish. 
 
 " Oh, what has the poor madman done," said Siona, 
 " to incur such a doom ? " 
 
 " The Emperor is the father of every Eoman ; an 
 attempt against his life is considered as a parricide." 
 
 " But he has not killed the Emperor." 
 
 " He tried to do so." 
 
 Here Flora sobbed aloud. " Oh why ! " she said, 
 " why did I neglect the trust Volumnia left me ? The 
 day she went away, she told me to comfort and advise 
 Icilius ! Alas ! had I done so, perhaps this would never 
 have happened ! " 
 
 Her emotion was so uncontrollable, that Eeparata led 
 her out to the garden, where the fresh air somewhat 
 calmed and invigorated her. Her friend's soothing 
 words brought her round, and they spoke more tran- 
 quilly on the painful subject. 
 
 " Do you think," asked Flora, " we could find any 
 means of saving Icilius ? "
 
 Flora : the Roman Maj^tyr. 279 
 
 '' Impossible ! besides you have nothing to reproach 
 yourself with. What influence could you possibly have 
 exercised over a declared maniac ? His parents them- 
 selves could not control him, when he chose to run wild 
 night and day on the Mount Palatine, perhaps medi- 
 tating in his delirium the act he has since performed." 
 
 " Yes ! he must have been planning his revenge 
 against the Emperor ever since the day that Volumnia 
 was consecrated a Vestal. He made Gordianus respon- 
 sible for that. Do you think the attempt is a sin in 
 poor Icilius' frame of mind ? " 
 
 " We cannot judge. God is more merciful than man. 
 But if the poor madman be not accountable for the act 
 itself, there must have been a long chain of wicked, 
 angry feelings which culminated in this point ; and as 
 to all the failings of his misguided, erring Pagan life, 
 who can say, Flora, what account he has to render ? " 
 
 " Poor fellow ! noble as he is, to die such an igno- 
 minious death ! Gifted with a soul, just as you and I, 
 he has to bear it before the judgment seat of God, laden 
 perhaps with heavy sins ; and in this very hour, when 
 his reason has returned, he is alone, face to face with 
 the horrors of his approaching doom ! Not one voice 
 near him to awake the pang of remorse, or call up one 
 good feeling ! " 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " In the Mamertine prison. I went there once before 
 with Laurentius to visit Martina ! " 
 
 " Flora," cried her friend energetically, " I see what 
 you are thinking of, you must not entertain any such
 
 28o Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 wild project. I shall oppose you by every means in my 
 power." 
 
 " Do not say tliat ! " replied the other with a stern 
 calmness which had succeeded to her previous agitation. 
 " You were not a witness, as I was, to the parting scene 
 between those unhappy young people, whose very 
 nuptial day was close at hand. I still remember the 
 forced resignation of Volumnia, the rigidity her features 
 assumed, as if she were gradually turning into a marble 
 statue. I can never forget, to my dying day, the wild 
 despair of Icilius ; and then, when all was over, she 
 called me to her, saying : ' Thou wilt probably see him 
 again ; when thou meetest him, speak to him kindly ; 
 bid him take courage and act nobly ; console him if 
 thou canst.' Do you not understand, Keparata, that 
 those words implied a duty which I have not fulfilled ! " 
 
 " And now what is it you wish to do towards it ? " 
 
 " To visit him, if possible, as I did Martina when she 
 was imprisoned where he now is, console him as I did 
 her, speak to him as no one else can or will, since his 
 own parents have abandoned him. And, if I dared, I 
 would ask him to believe in the Master condemned, 
 like him, to an ignominious death. Who, in that last 
 hour of loving sacrifice, pardoned the condemned crimi- 
 nal, and called him to Heaven by His side." 
 
 " Flora, these are noble thoughts, but perfectly unrea- 
 sonable to indulge in, because it is impossible to carry 
 them out." 
 
 " Here comes Laurentius to fetch us. We are staying 
 out too late, the dew is falling. I must tell him what
 
 Flora : tJie Roman Martyr. 2»8i 
 
 we were just speaking about. Laurentius, I should like 
 very much to visit Icilius in the Mamertine prison ; you 
 and I know the way to get to it, do you remember 
 Claudius taking us along a subterranean passage ? " 
 
 " Dear sister, I fear that is impossible ! The unfor- 
 tunate Icilius is watched night and day, lest he should 
 attempt his own life." 
 
 " How do you know that ? " 
 
 " I was told so by the young Hippolytus, whose father 
 has \kiQ command of the guard at the Mamertine. I 
 met him on my way home from school, we are great 
 friends, although he is a few years older than I am ; I 
 asked him about Icilius. He was rather surprised at 
 my being interested in the poor criminal, but when I 
 explained that it was on account of Volumnia being 
 your friend, he offered to go himself and see poor 
 Icilius ; then he will call on us, to give us an exact 
 account of him." 
 
 " That was very thoughtful of Hippolytus," observed 
 Eeparata, " he must be a good young man." 
 
 " I think," said Flora hesitatingly, " I ought to refer 
 all this to our mother ; I ought to have expressed my 
 desire first to her." 
 
 " That is true," interposed Eeparata earnestly ; "what- 
 ever is right can only be so within the limits of your 
 mother's sanction." 
 
 " Come into the house now," said Laurentius, " our 
 father has returned home." 
 
 That very night, before retiring to rest. Flora spoke 
 privately, and at full length, to her mother, expressing
 
 282 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 to her the strange desire which had taken possession of 
 her whole soul, and which seemed to point out an 
 urgent duty. Siona appreciated her daughter's motives, 
 but from still weightier ones of maternal prudence, op- 
 posed her, and the girl yielded. The next morning, 
 however, Hippolytus sought Laurentius early, to give 
 him the desired information as to the prisoner ; the boy 
 went to ask his mother's leave to introduce his friend. 
 Flora was with her in the aula, and Siona admitted the 
 young stranger at once to give an account of the un- 
 happy prisoner who interested them all so much. Hip- 
 polytus was taller than Laurentius, but not as good- 
 looking ; he had not, like him, that gentleness of manner 
 which bespeaks one bred in all the refinement of home 
 training; he had been, on the contrary, inured to the 
 hardships of a soldier's life, wliich was to be his career 
 as it had been his father's. Already had the tight-fit- 
 ting garment replaced the vestis sucdnda, which lioman 
 boys generally left off at the age of fourteen, to assume 
 the more manly toga ; soldier's buskins cased his feet, 
 thereby adding to his height ; his sun-burnt brow be- 
 came him, and dark curls clustered under the light 
 helmet which he wore. As his father had the sole 
 command of the Mamertine prison, where persons of 
 note and political offenders were often consigned, he 
 could give ample information about Icilius. " His 
 frantic fits had quite ceased," he said, '' and he was 
 now in a state of great despondency. Is there any- 
 thing you would wish to have conveyed to him ? " 
 he continued. " Laurentius spoke of a message from
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 283 
 
 your friend the Vestal, but that would be very- 
 dangerous/' 
 
 " Could you, Hippolytus," asked Siona, " obtain per- 
 mission from your father for my children to see the 
 prisoner ? " 
 
 " His orders are very strict," replied the youth, " and 
 what motive can I adduce for such an unwonted request V 
 
 " The friendship which existed between your mother 
 and myself is a sufficient pledge that I would not com- 
 promise any one connected with her, by soliciting an 
 undue privilege, were I not influenced by the purest 
 motives. I think it right to try and console poor 
 Icilius, to bring him to a sense of duty, to arouse him 
 to repentance and regret for his attempt against the 
 Emperor, so that he may meet death in a proper spirit, 
 with becoming fortitude and peace of mind." 
 
 " How strange, dear lady, that you should compas- 
 sionate one whom all Eome shuns and abhors, for his 
 attempt against our sovereign's life. And yet, your 
 views are so noble that I cannot but admire them, new 
 and incomprehensible though they seem. I think my 
 father will consent to your proposal, if Laurentius pre- 
 sent the matter to him in the light you see it in, but 
 do not ask me to plead, I am no orator." 
 
 " Time presses," observed Laurentius, " and every day 
 brings the unhappy Icilius nearer to his doom. Mother, 
 allow me to go at once with Hippolytus; if the noble cen- 
 turion, his father, think proper to refuse our suit, we 
 shall have the satisfaction of having made the trial." 
 
 " Yes go ! my son, and explain with all deference why
 
 284 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 I solicit this permission for both yourself and your 
 sister. When Volumnia left us to become a Vestal, she 
 begged of Flora as a parting request, to try and do all 
 the good she could to Icilius. This is the first time an 
 opportunity offers for the fulfilling of that promise, 
 which is certainly a sacred duty." 
 
 The young men were not long absent, and they 
 returned the more joyfully, that they brought back the 
 desired permission, with but one condition annexed to it. 
 The centurion required that a trusty person, belonging 
 to his own household, should be present at the interview 
 between the young people, and he had chosen to this 
 effect Concordia, who he knew had formerly occupied a 
 post of confidence in the family of Florentius. 
 
 This worthy woman, who had served as nurse to Flora 
 and to Hippolytus, was now a Christian, having been 
 converted by the example of her daughter Barbara, who 
 had imbibed the faith in early childhood from her 
 foster-sister. Flora. 
 
 The faithful old nurse was overjoyed at this oppor- 
 tunity of rendering a service to her former mistress. 
 She proposed that both she and Flora should wear thick 
 veils, and a plain mourning garb, so as to look like 
 relations, going to bid farewell to the condemned criminal. 
 She promised Siona to watch over her dear young 
 charge, not suffering her to do anything imprudent, nor 
 to overtax her strength. She also bound herself to put a 
 stop to the interview if she saw Icilius was not capable 
 of understanding the suggestions of his friends. 
 
 All four then set out together, the youths going first,
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 285 
 
 in order to select the best part of the road for their 
 companions. When they approached the Mamertine, 
 they cautiously guided them up the steep flight of steps, 
 known as the Centum Gradus. 
 
 They reached the prison door, and Hippolytus showed 
 the sentries his pass, and introduced his friends into the 
 upper storey. 
 
 It was a lonesome place, which Christians venerated 
 as sanctified by the captivity of Peter. Here Martina 
 had been imprisoned ; here so many Christians had left 
 an atmosphere of holiness impregnated with the memory 
 of their sufferings and prayers. 
 
 Hippolytus made the gaolers place a ladder ready, for 
 there were no steps leading to the inferior floor. He 
 helped Mora to descend with the greatest care; then, 
 telling the sentries who kept Icilius in sight, that 
 orders had been sent for them to relax their strict watch, 
 he himself withdrew. 
 
 It was some time before they got accustomed to the 
 darkness ; and, even then, they could hardly find him 
 they sought, for he was crouched in a corner, his head 
 on his knees, and his face entirely covered by his matted 
 hair. Flora called him by name, and he started. 
 
 "I know your voice," he said, "but you are not 
 Volumnia." 
 
 "i^o ! but I am her friend, and I wish to be yours. Men 
 have been cruel to you ; sorrow and despair have driven 
 you to madness. I come to console you by telling you of 
 a love which has clung to you through your many trials." 
 
 " Is it hers ? " he asked.
 
 286 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " No ! we must not speak of her, but as one dead ; 
 you must not think of her any more." 
 
 " Have the cruel gods killed her then ? " 
 
 " No ! there are no gods. You cannot believe, Icilius, 
 that you are obliged to reverence the cruel Vesta, who 
 robbed you of your bride, the wicked Jupiter who pro- 
 faned the duties of a husband and a father, the shameful 
 Venus whose very name is sufficient to corrupt the air, 
 breathed by innocent maidens. Can that religion be 
 pure in which each vice is deified ? "We come to tell you 
 of One Who reigns alone, the Creator of the beautiful 
 world Who made each one of us, out of the immensity of 
 His love : it is He who incites us to do good, and Who 
 rewards us when we obey. He has His Eye on our most 
 trifling actions, knows of our sorrows, and will comfort 
 us Himself. It is He Who has sent us to speak to you 
 this day, for He penetrates the gloom of this prison, and 
 even here He embraces Icilius in the arms of His 
 Mighty Love." 
 
 The poor prisoner looked round, as if seeking the 
 Presence of which she spoke, then put his hands upon 
 his breast and breathed more freely. 
 
 " This thought is an overwhelming one, is it not, 
 Icilius ? " continued Laurentius, pursuing the same strain 
 of ideas as his sister, and adopting her soothing per- 
 suasive tone ; " but we cannot remain with you long. 
 Men have condemned you : there is a God above Who 
 forgives. They will sentence you to a cruel death : He 
 will receive you to an eternal glory. Will you accept 
 the alternative, Icilius ? "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 287 
 
 The prisoner shook his head. " It is very difficult to 
 understand," he observed. 
 
 Flora knelt beside him, clasped her hands, and prayed 
 in silence. He roused himself all of a sudden : " I have 
 seen people die," he said, " such as call themselves 
 Christians, and they seemed to be more triumphant 
 than their judges." 
 
 " So they are, Icilius, because they believe in a God 
 Who is Holiness Itself," explained Laurentius ; " and the 
 God they have served faithfully supports them, and 
 rewards their sufferings. They are pure in His sight, 
 and they go to Him." 
 
 " But I am not pure," replied the culprit mournfully ; 
 " I am guilty of much wickedness, such as I never 
 understood before." 
 
 " He of Whom we have been speaking to you, the 
 One True God, foresaw all your thoughts and feelings ; 
 He will accept you for His son, if you repent : will you 
 belong to Him, even understanding Him so very little ? " 
 
 " You say there is a God Who loves me ; one God 
 Who lives in Heaven, and you tell me He loves me ; I 
 find it very beautiful to believe, very sweet for my 
 heart to rest on." 
 
 " And can you, will you love Him in return ? A little 
 child can hardly comprehend its father, yet it stretches 
 out its arms to him, as an act of love," interposed Flora. 
 
 Tears came to the eyes of Icilius, and trickled slowly 
 down his face. " Tell me more about this Father- God!" 
 he said. 
 
 " Time presses, and we can only tell you, without ex-
 
 288 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 plaining at length, that this good God, in order to 
 expiate your transgressions and those of all men, offered 
 up a Sacrifice, and this was His own Only-begotten Son, 
 God like Himself; we Christians participate in the 
 merits of this Sacrifice. God became like unto us, 
 suffered for us, died for us, shed all His Precious Blood 
 for us, and in that Blood He washed away our guilt. 
 When we become Christians, water is poured on us 
 exteriorly, a symbol of the internal regeneration of our 
 souls." 
 
 " I want to become a child of that God-Father, I want 
 to be purified ! " 
 
 " Men made Him suffer and die ; before dying He 
 forgave them ! " observed Laurentius significantly. 
 
 " Why so ! revenge is a duty with us." 
 
 " But not with the Christian, and such you are about 
 to become. Icilius, if you would be a child of our God, 
 you must learn to forgive." 
 
 " Then let Him change my heart, for with my own I 
 cannot." 
 
 They knelt down together, and Flora prayed aloud. 
 From the depths of her innocent heart, she poured 
 forth such soul-stirring expressions of Christian faith, 
 that the poor youth's hardly recovered intelligence drank 
 in the wholesome draught and revived, even as one 
 whose sources of life have been parched up within him. 
 
 " I wish to go to my Father, God," he exclaimed, " I 
 wish to see Him ; if I must die first, I am willing to die 
 . . . . I was wrong in seeking to be avenged of the 
 Emperor ! . . . . I see it all now, understand all
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 289 
 
 . Gordianus did not rob me of my bride 
 
 . . he was sorry to take her to be a Vestal 
 
 . the false gods alone are the cause of my 
 
 misfortunes .... I renounce them ! I wish to 
 
 be a Christian ! " 
 
 " Have you learned so soon !" exclaimed Flora, weeping 
 for very pity and tenderness. " Oh great goodness of 
 God I Oh mysterious power of prayer : has the Light 
 of Faith akeady burst upon your soul ? If the minister 
 of our religion cannot come here to instruct and confer 
 baptism upon you, only desire it, and the desire will be 
 accounted to you for your purification. Offer to Him 
 Who came down on earth and suffered for us, offer Him 
 your bitter death, and you will pass from this life to a 
 happy one, where all those who have loved and forgiven 
 meet again." 
 
 " 1 never felt like this before," he said, " I am so tran- 
 quil and happy. Will you speak to Volumnia as you 
 have done to me, Flora ; will you tell her about the 
 Father-God of the Christians ? " 
 
 A new spirit had been infused into the once passionate 
 fiery youth : he did not linger over the memory of her 
 he had idolized ; his thoughts were elsewhere, he had 
 learned to pray for the first time ! 
 
 They left him, and returning to the ladder they were to 
 
 ascend, called upon Hippolytus, who, according to previous 
 
 agreement, was waiting to help them up. Soon they passed 
 
 out from those walls, and resumed their walk through 
 
 the streets, in the same order in which they had come, 
 
 but all were silently absorbed in their own reflections. 
 
 19
 
 290 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 Oh, thought Hippolytus, if this could be his lot 
 through life, to walk in the same path as Flora. He 
 dared not speak to her, for she was so rapt up in the 
 holy duty she had performed, that she seemed to be 
 surrounded by an invisible panoply which, as Eeparata 
 had foreseen, screened her from all thoughts of harm or 
 earthly temptation; she looked so beautiful and pure, 
 that Hippolytus felt an intense admiration for virtue 
 arise in his heart, and thought, if ever she became his, 
 how noble and great would he strive to be ; how easy he 
 would find it to become a hero by the side of Flora. 
 His manner, imbued with this feeling, grew reserved 
 and respectful : he conducted his friends to the foot of 
 the Aventine Hill. There they parted, Laurentius and 
 Flora turning towards their own home, leaving Concordia 
 with Hippolytus. They thanked him warmly for the 
 assistance he had rendered them in the execution of 
 their self-imposed task, which they simply stated had 
 been happily accomplished. 
 
 " I am happy to hear you have had that satisfaction," 
 he replied ; "if ever it be in my power to render you any 
 service, command me. I count upon Laurentius for 
 calling upon me without fail." 
 
 They then exchanged an affectionate farewell with 
 their old nurse Concordia, asking her to come and spend 
 a day with them whenever she got a holiday. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear young masters," she replied ; 
 " how happy I am to have such dear good foster chil- 
 dren!" 
 
 " I hope I have a share in that compliment, nurse ! "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 291 
 
 chimed in Hippolytus, playfully ; "and now, farewell, dear 
 friends, Concordia will give a good account of her mission 
 to my father." 
 
 A glance from the faithful domestic testified as to the 
 prudence with which she would speak of what she had 
 witnessed, and she respectfully fell back, following the 
 young soldier, who walked on, thoughtful and happy. 
 His sensations were like those of one who, having 
 borne a load of flowers, feels impregnated with the 
 perfume even when they have passed away. He felt 
 that the passing interview of that day had not left him 
 as it found him : and that, if ever he obtained Flora's 
 hand, she would work a change in his nature, she would 
 exalt him, raising him to her standard. 
 
 Go thy way, noble youth ! that boy- worship thou hast 
 vowed to a fair girl, that sentiment, deeper still, which 
 lies in thy breast as it has throbbed in the heart of every 
 son of Adam, that affection has not been given to thee 
 in vain ! it will lead thee upwards, higher than all thy 
 hopes ! The union thou dreamest of may never be, but 
 another will be revealed to thee, more precious by far. 
 It is not on earth that thy destiny will be joined to 
 Flora's, but she will unfold to thee a world thou 
 knowest not of! a kingdom of glory, where she has 
 chosen to enter undefiled, where thou wilt precede her, 
 and where, when her arduous career is run, she will 
 come to sit at the feet of her Lord, thy Master and hers, 
 and thou wilt w^elcome her to her heavenly home, a 
 Martyr Bride.
 
 CHAPTEK XVII. 
 
 " 1 y UT why now, my child ? we can go to-morrow 
 
 1 ) evening with the faithful." 
 
 " Mother ! I cannot wait. You have accustomed me 
 whenever I was in trouble, to go and pray on the tomb 
 of Cecilia, who always comforts me. May I go to her 
 now ? " 
 
 " I will take you there, my child, if you so much 
 wish it." 
 
 " Thank you, mother, I shall then call Eeparata." 
 
 She returned shortly after with her young friend, who 
 was a welcome sharer in all Flora's pastimes and pur- 
 suits. The latter had many companions, with whom she 
 exercised in secret the practices of the Christian reli- 
 gion, but she was linked to Eeparata by the ties of hos- 
 pitality, and that friendship which always springs up 
 between those who have known each other in days of 
 sorrow. Flora, still mourning for the loss of Martina, 
 had found in the young Greek the sympathy she re- 
 quired, and an affection which cured the anguish of her 
 bereavement. 
 
 Oh, the blessedness of sincerity and trustfulness which 
 exist in early youth, never perhaps to be found again ! 
 One of the reasons why we all love children, and cling 
 to the memory of our own early days, is that in those
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 293 
 
 hearts, as once in ours, there lives the first freshness of 
 perfect truth. A child's soul is a fair garden, unvisited 
 as yet by the spoiler ; a world in itself, just issued from 
 the hands of the Creator, on which He has gazed, and 
 pronounced it good. Each age has its gift ! There are the 
 wisdom of gray hairs, the vigour of manhood, the intel- 
 lectual joys of a riper age, but over these the breath of 
 the world has passed, and it is a destroyer which leaves 
 nothing as it found ; innocent hopes cannot survive its 
 blasting influence ; the fountain of innate poetry dries 
 up at its approach ; the flowers of fancy, reared by an 
 imaginative mind, fade away under its withering scorn, 
 and a dreary desert arises, with nothing but a de- 
 ceitful mirage to take the place of what was good and 
 true ! 
 
 Siona thought of these things as she laid her hand on 
 her daughter's brow, ruf&ed by thoughts and cares be- 
 yond her years, but bearing also traces of calm self-con- 
 trol, and she resolved that, as much as it lay in her 
 power, that girl's trustfulness should never be deceived. 
 They were just crossing the threshold to go out, when 
 they were accosted by a tall graceful girl, somewhat 
 older than Flora, and followed by a female slave. Both 
 mother and daughter greeted her with affection, and 
 were about to re-enter the house with her, but she 
 said she would prefer accompanying them, and dis- 
 missed her attendant. 
 
 " We are going far," observed Siona, " perhaps too far 
 for you, — to the catacomb of Pope CaHxtus." 
 
 " Oh, I am glad to hear it, it is so long since Flora
 
 294 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 and I have been together to honour the tomb of our 
 dear friend and teacher Cecilia." 
 
 " I am so pleased that you should join us," continued 
 Flora, passing her arm within that of her old friend. 
 " I have so much to tell you, and we have hardly had 
 any time to talk since I came home." 
 
 Lucia was the eldest of those blessed little ones, 
 brought up under Cecilia's care, and taught by her in 
 their infancy lessons to which they proved hereafter, 
 oh how faithfully true ! She had passed from the holy 
 martyr's school to the pious care of her mother, who 
 concentrated in this child the pride of a noble house, 
 and clung to her, perhaps, with too human a love. The 
 girl's appearance bespoke at once the patrician race 
 from which she sprang. Her refined features were 
 striking, less from any singular beauty than from a cer- 
 tain loftiness of expression, which would have degene- 
 rated into haughtiness, had she been a Pagan ; her face 
 had that regularity of contour so peculiarly Eoman 
 which has remained a characteristic down to the pre- 
 sent day, so much so, that sculptors declare it impos- 
 sible to find a Eoman woman in whom there is not 
 some beautiful feature worthy of serving as a model. 
 Endowed with fortune, Lucia had persuaded her mother 
 to allow her to dispose of a great share of her wealth in 
 favour of the Christian poor, and the days of that girl 
 were filled with good deeds. She had had many suitors 
 to her hand, but most of them understood, from her 
 coldness, they were not welcome, and if any ventured 
 further, pleading their cause in open terms, the disdain
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 295 
 
 which curled her lip revealed an innate pride in which 
 she forebore to indulge. Accustomed to take, in her own 
 household, the place of her mother, whose delicate state 
 of health confined her almost continually to her couch, 
 Lucia had grown into a woman, while yet a girl ; she 
 had more of that dignified manner which commands re- 
 spect and admiration than of the winning attractiveness 
 of girlhood. 
 
 All around her loved her ; her younger friends looked 
 up to her for advice and protection, her companions in 
 age all tacitly acknowledged her superiority, and were 
 ruled by her ; her very mother leaned on her with a 
 proud, loving confidence, and Lucia would sometimes 
 express the fear that her own life was too happy. 
 There is a tide, however, in the stream of human exist- 
 ence, and it set in for the young girl. 
 
 Providence sheltered her from the dangers she would 
 have encountered, had her life glided smoothly on ; her 
 gifted mind was such as would have secured to her the 
 world's applause ; she was withdrawn from its influence 
 by having to attend on her parent, during a long and 
 painful illness. The sick room and daily watchings 
 were wholesome restraints for the high-spirited girl, and 
 the energetic mind found scope for its moral strength in 
 the discipline of self-denial. Lucia had bowed to the 
 will of her Heavenly Father, and understood that what 
 He willed was for her good. 
 
 She responded to the confidence with which Flora 
 clung to her, and, looking at her with something of that 
 protecting affection which was her wont, said : " I know
 
 296 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 you too well, of old, not to see by your face that you 
 have some trouble on your mind. How did you fare in 
 Liguria ? Your voyage back was, I hear, a dangerous one." 
 " Yes, indeed ! " interposed Siona, " I thought we 
 should never have reached land again. Yet all things 
 work together for the good of those who love God ! We, 
 Christians, rejoiced in the very fearfulness of the storm, 
 for my husband, seeing how God heard our prayers, has 
 respected our religion ever since." 
 " You were then many Christians ? " 
 " No ! only our family, besides two noble Greek 
 strangers who will favour us by abiding under our roof 
 for some months in Eome. Allow me to introduce to 
 you Eeparata, who has proved a kind friend to Flora." 
 
 Lucia exchanged a cordial greeting with the stranger, 
 and said playfully, " I hope you have not stolen my 
 place, I mean as Flora's friend ? I have known her 
 every thought since we were five years old." 
 
 " And look at her now," replied Eeparata smiling ; 
 "she has loads of secrets to tell you. Do walk on 
 together, while I speak with my noble hostess." 
 She fell back a few steps with Siona. 
 " Well ! I must tell you," began Flora at once to her 
 companion, "that I am not going simply to honour the 
 tomb and memory of Cecilia, but to seek light and 
 grace." 
 
 " There you are, just as of old, always in perplexities. 
 Wait, before you tell me, I must take you to the 
 cave inhabited by Hippolytus, we are close to it now. 
 He inquired so often about you while you were away."
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 297 
 
 " Hippolytus ! " repeated Flora, very mucli astonished, 
 
 " Surely you must remember him. I told you in my 
 letter that he who had sought Martina in marriage was 
 now a fervent Christian, living on the Appian Way to 
 be near the Catacombs." 
 
 " Oh yes ! I shall be very glad to see him ; I had for- 
 gotten, because I am so anxious about something that 
 happened yesterday." 
 
 She then told her friend about her visit to the Mamer- 
 tine prison and its results. 
 
 She was very desirous for Icilius to receive sufficient 
 instruction, so as to be baptized before his execution, if 
 possible, but she foresaw insuperable obstacles in the 
 way, and feared, lest by disclosing the Christian religion 
 to him too prematurely, she had increased his responsi- 
 bility. 
 
 " I do not see," replied Lucia, " what cause you have 
 for self-reproach ; are we not always advised to do good 
 when we can, either by word or example, and you have 
 certainly aroused the better nature of Icilius, and made 
 him long for God. By informing a priest, you may 
 obtain that a deacon be sent to him to finish the good 
 work you have begun. Thus he will be prepared to 
 meet death. Poor youth ! it seems hard that he should 
 be condemned for an act which was committed when 
 his reason was disturbed. God at least will not punish 
 him ; He is the more merciful when men are unjust." 
 
 " I do not think," resumed Flora, " the Emperor will 
 suffer him to die ; his reign has been one of clemency 
 and justice, and if his life has been spared on the
 
 298 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 occasion of Icilius' mad attempt, may it not be that the 
 Almighty God has willed to reward visibly one who 
 spared the flock of Christ ?" 
 
 " If his good heart were appealed to, we might hope ! 
 but truth seldom reaches the ear of kings. Gordianus 
 will be told that Icilius' attempt was the consequence of 
 previous guilt, and thereby they would cast a stain on 
 poor Volunmia. Oh, paganism is so blind and cruel ; 
 like its own god, Saturn, devouring his children." 
 
 " Oh that I could approach our sovereign," exclaimed 
 Flora. 
 
 " You who are so bashful ! Why, what would you do 
 if you could approach Gordianus ? " 
 
 " I should feel courage in presence of the good Em- 
 peror, who has inherited the wisdom of Augustus and 
 the virtues of Trajan, the sight of him would kindle me 
 up, and I should kneel to him, and ask for the life of 
 my friend Volumnia, whose innocence I would attest, 
 and" . . . 
 
 " You ! you never could ! Besides, why should we 
 talk of what can never happen ? Let us keep to the 
 present ! We must turn up this side path which leads 
 to the cave of Hippolytus ; I shall go on and tell him 
 you are coming ; will you ask your mother to follow ? '* 
 
 There was a huge mausoleum on the left side, raised 
 to the memory of a conqueror, who had triumphed in 
 the East, and whose tomb bore witness to the riches 
 accumulated in the spoils of victory. The pyramid, 
 divided into three gradations, rested on a base of granite, 
 bearing a sphinx at each angle ; each of the blocks of
 
 Flora : the Ronia^i Martyr. 299 
 
 different marble showed fine bas-reliefs, some of which, 
 even now that the hand of time has destroyed the edifice, 
 excite the admiration of the antiquarian as he sees 
 these relics of the past, buried in the dust. The ladies 
 passed under the wall, formed by this gigantic tomb, 
 and soon trod the soft grass, so long and flexible that 
 their footsteps marked a path in it as they walked. 
 There is, in all Eoman soil, a surface of light dry earth, 
 so pure that if cast on a white toga, the garment would 
 remain unsullied by the contact. It is this which, w^hen 
 moistened, forms the Eoman cement whose solidity is 
 hardly inferior to that of stone itself. Extremely useful 
 at all times, it was indispensable in those days when 
 the Eomans gloried quite as much in the durability of 
 their edifices as in their victories abroad. Excavations 
 for this earth were sometimes carried to such an 
 extent, that long vaulted galleries were formed from 
 cavern to cavern, as the workmen extended their labours. 
 From this circumstance an erroneous idea has arisen, 
 which a short survey suffices to eradicate : it has been 
 supposed that the Catacombs might have been excavated 
 for the same purpose, and consequently not be the work 
 of the primitive Christians, but a convincing proof of 
 the incorrectness of this statement is, that this earth 
 was only found at the surface, whereas the Catacombs 
 are hewn out of the granitic tufa underlying the soil, 
 and the marks of the pick-axe which have left traces in 
 the vaults, bear witness to the hard labour of the fossores^ 
 to the daily, solitary toil of those who, circumscribed 
 within those narrow walls, worked out a tomb for the
 
 300 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 martyrs of the Lord ! There is a vast difference between 
 the dormitories of the dead, as the Christians loved to 
 call them, and the spacious, roomy galleries cut into 
 that light soil which required arches to support them. 
 It was towards one of these arenaria, rather smaller 
 than the rest, and whose orifice was somewhat concealed 
 by the long grass, that Lucia directed her steps. She 
 stopped, uttering a salutation in a loud voice, which was 
 answered from within ; she made a sign to her com- 
 panions to follow, and then went on, stopping again at 
 the entrance to an underground passage, which sloped 
 downwards. Here she struck the ground with a stone 
 three times, then proceeded to walk down cautiously. 
 She had not gone more than a few steps further, when 
 the salutation they had previously heard was repeated, 
 and a man, followed by two little children, came to meet 
 them. The latter recognised Flora, and clung to her, 
 repeating her name with delight, but it was so dark she 
 could not see them : " Let us go on," said Lucia, " to 
 that part of your cavern, good Hippolytus, where we can 
 have light, for I bring you many friends." 
 
 " My eyes, accustomed to the darkness, distinguish 
 them already," he replied ; " let me guide you. Mora," 
 and he took her hand. "The last time we met," he 
 continued, " I told you that men should only hear of 
 Hippolytus as of one already dead, have I not kept my 
 word?" 
 
 He stood under an orifice in the vault which let in 
 light and air from above ; a ray of sun had penetrated, 
 and fell on his emaciated features, still bearing the
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 301 
 
 stamp of patrician birth ; his head was bald, not from 
 age, but from the inclemency of the weather,^and the 
 insufficient repose he took on the hard rock, thereby 
 wasting away prematurely his once vigorous frame ; his 
 hands, formerly soft and perfumed, were callous to the 
 touch, as Flora found, and the change wrought in him 
 was so great, that she could hardly speak, from the 
 depth of her emotion. The children roused her from 
 her silent astonishment, embracing and caressing her. 
 
 " What ! you here ! " she cried, " Eone and Maia, how 
 is this ? " 
 
 " We came to see our uncle," they said, " our dear 
 good uncle Hippolytus : our mother sent us." 
 
 " What then ! " inquired Siona of Hippolytus, " does 
 Paulina know ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, she knows about her brother the philosopher, 
 as they call me, supposing I have imitated Diogenes, 
 and thrown away the cup of earthly joys, but ah ! they 
 little know all I have found instead. The dear chil- 
 dren like their ugly old uncle, with the dirty beard. I 
 caress them and encourage their innocent prattle, for I 
 well know how the Master loved such as these. Soon 
 I shall endeavour to give them more substantial food. 
 From what I hear, they have already derived much 
 benefit from their stay in Liguria, thanks to God and 
 you!" 
 
 " We spent indeed a peaceful, blessed time there : 
 faith is undisturbed and no corruption of civilization has 
 as yet reached those shores. Yet Paulina never pene- 
 trated the mystery of our secret meetings, I am a little
 
 302 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 afraid of her ; she is good and well-disposed, but I fear 
 of a weak character." 
 
 "Is not that the case with all of us, till the 
 Strengthener and Great Consoler take possession of our 
 poor hearts ? What are we of ourselves, but withered 
 branches detached from the Tree of Life ! " He raised 
 his hand to the wall where hung, from a nail, a broken 
 palm branch ; a sign full of meaning to all Christians, 
 but which struck Flora as being connected with a dim 
 memory of the past : " You do not recognise it," he said 
 to her, '4t is a fragment of that which Martina bore with 
 her to her last triumph, and which I asked you to 
 restore to me, hallowed by her contact ; it is the sign 
 whereby she and I shall know each other when we 
 meet above ! " 
 
 A solemn silence fell on them all : he spoke calmly, 
 not as mortals do of one they have loved and lost, but 
 as of a blessed death which had been to him the open- 
 ing to a new life. 
 
 " I have often inquired for you, Flora," he continued, 
 " often desired your return, for you know my conversion 
 is your work, and that of your slave Claudius. What 
 has become of him ? " 
 
 " He left us," replied Siona, " to return to his country 
 and friends, but if the heart speaks true, methinks we 
 shall see him again. Who knows whether Britain will 
 be to liim in his old age the Alma Mater of his early 
 love ? I hope for his sake his wife and children may 
 have survived the long separation ; yet I trust he will 
 pine for Eome again."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 303 
 
 "And your husband, lady Siona, my old friend 
 riorentius who used to ])reach philosophy to me ? how 
 differently I could preach to him now ! " 
 
 " His hour is not yet come : pray for him ! " she 
 replied. 
 
 " And have you come on purpose to see me, noble 
 ladies ? the hermit of the cave is but little used to 
 such honour." 
 
 " We are on our way to the Catacombs, and Lucia 
 wished to show us your habitation; she said you had 
 often expressed a wish to see Flora." 
 
 " I have ! " he answered, " and, thank God, I see her 
 again, pure and good as when her childish features first 
 taught me what virtue was like. I wished to show you, 
 maiden, the barren home and dreary palace chosen by 
 the late Sybarite of Eome. Who among my former 
 companions would believe that I bathe with tears of 
 joy the stony couch on which I take each night a few 
 hours of rest, interrupted by prayer ? The poor of the 
 wayside are my friends, the Catacombs my constant 
 resort. My conversion was the first fruit of a saint's 
 martyrdom, and thus I love to consider myself as a 
 victim set apart for a sacrifice. My happiness does not 
 end here. I have been called to the office of deacon, 
 and I can look forward to the day when, attaining to 
 the plenitude of the priesthood, I shall be allowed to 
 offer the Divine Mysteries, and draw others to the know- 
 ledge of eternal truth. It is a sufficiently great privi- 
 lege that I am allowed to baptize ! " 
 
 "Thank God!" they all exclaimed, but Flora's thanks-
 
 304 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 giving was not spoken in words ; with clasped hands, she 
 raised her eloquent eyes to the speaker's face, and her 
 cheeks were tinged with the flush of subdued joy. He 
 looked at her surprised. Just then the little children 
 proposed to the visitors to go farther within and see 
 more of the hermitage. Lucia took them away, leaving 
 Hippolytus to speak more at his ease with the ladies. He 
 observed to Siona: "If I am to judge by your daughter's 
 countenance, you have something very interesting to 
 communicate to me ". 
 
 " Yes ! we have much to tell and to ask of you. I 
 know what is uppermost in Flora's mind, but let me 
 present my petition first. Will you allow me to send 
 my adopted son, Laurentius, to you ? " 
 
 " I remember him as a frail, interesting child, too de- 
 licate to live, at least so I thought ; I am glad to hear 
 he has grown up." 
 
 " He has, ly God's help, and for God. Called like 
 you to be a special servant of the Most High, will you 
 accept him for your scholar ? " 
 
 •''Joyfully. What next?" 
 
 " Perhaps you live too remote from human society to 
 have learned what has been the last few days tlie talk 
 of every Eoman, the attempt against our good Emperor's 
 life." 
 
 " The brethren whose charity provides me with food 
 brought me that news, but Providence watched over 
 him and saved him." 
 
 " Do you know who was the assassin ? " asked Siona. 
 
 " No 1 "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 305 
 
 She whispered : " Poor Icilius," at which he was 
 deeply pained. 
 
 She explained to him, as rapidly as she could, all the 
 circumstances we are acquainted with. 
 
 " And now/' said Flora, " that you have the power to 
 baptize, perhaps God destines you to finish what my 
 brother and I have begun for Icilius. Will you under- 
 take to refer all my mother has told you to a higher 
 authority, for I am so troubled and confused, I hardly 
 know whether I have acted right or wrong in speaking 
 of religion to Icilius ? " 
 
 " A cloud sometimes comes over our intellect, lest 
 vain glory should swallow up the merits of our good 
 deeds ; yet, do not fear, Flora, you undertook this for the 
 sake of your Heavenly Father, and He will reward you. 
 But how can I reach the poor youth ? " 
 
 " I know not," replied Siona. "I obtained permission 
 for my children with some difficulty from the governor 
 of the Mamertine, but I dare not apply again." 
 
 " "VYeU! let us unite in prayer to this effect! Perhaps 
 
 when the time of poor Icilius' execution draws near, 
 
 something of the strict custody may be relaxed. I 
 
 shall wait, and, at the same time, enquire and profit 
 
 by the first moment I can see him. To those who 
 
 have sorrowed as I have Providence grants a mysterious 
 
 compensation, the gift of consoling others in their turn. 
 
 I wish I could do something for you, Flora, to repay 
 
 you for the faithful, strong, unremitting devotion you 
 
 bore Martina to the end. When we had both of 
 
 us seen her laid in that tomb, which, like that of 
 
 20
 
 3o6 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 her Master, will be one day glorious, I felt she had left 
 me a bright example to follow, and when my pagan 
 heart grew chastened by Christian feelings, I longed to 
 take up every good work she had begun. I felt as if 
 you, more than others, had an especial claim to my 
 prayers, and to my poor services such as they may be." 
 "Most willingly do I accept the proffered aid; in many 
 circumstances I cannot seek advice from my father. I 
 have lost Claudius, who was far more teacher than slave 
 to me. Do you then be my mother's friend and 
 mine." 
 
 " Let us help each other," he replied, " in the path 
 those great ones have trod before us ; let us remember 
 how short the combat and how great the reward. It 
 was you. Flora, taught me my first Christian prayer." 
 "Was it?" 
 
 " Yes. I followed the Christians on the Appian Way, 
 and, not being able to discover where they assembled, I 
 took refuge here, and like Him, Who, falling into an 
 agony at Gethsemani, prayed the longer, I fell prostrate 
 on the ground, repeating the whole night through that 
 prayer I had learned from you. When I went forth, 
 the great trial was over, and my soul felt the effects of 
 that baptism of blood which Martina had perhaps offered 
 up for me. But I ought not with you, her companion 
 and her friend, to dwell upon these sad memories. To 
 me they are a stimulus ; pardon me for forgetting the 
 respect due to a sorrow so persisting as yours. Fare- 
 well, Flora, if ever any circumstance arise in which you 
 wish to call upon me for help, remember that it will be
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 307 
 
 the joy of my solitude to become to you what you were 
 to Martina, a friend in life and a consoler in death." 
 
 Flora had restrained her feelings so long, that she 
 now could bear up no longer, and wept bitterly. Hip- 
 polytus, alarmed at the emotion he himself had called 
 forth, summoned his nephew and niece to divert her 
 thoughts, and requested her mother to take her out into 
 the open air.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE first breath of spring is again wafted over the 
 Latian campagna, leaving impressed on the air 
 the perfume of the climes through which it has passed ; 
 it plays in the gentle undulations of the breeze, creating 
 sounds of strange harmony, which seem to the medi- 
 tative mind to bring messages from another world. It 
 touches the old withered trees with the new creating 
 kiss of a mother's love, and invigorating youth is re- 
 stored to them ; it glides over the sterile naked fields, 
 and they are reclothed in pristine beauty. It is now 
 hushed, now refreshing, now soothing to the overworked 
 mind of the public man who has left the haunts of 
 cities, to come and take refuge in solitude : Nature and 
 her charms bring excitement to the young, and to the 
 old, repose. 
 
 On one of the Latian hills, first cradle of the Eoman 
 people, where the name of ^neas is, to this very day, 
 often quoted by common labourers, as if the Trojan 
 hero, by landing on those shores, had imparted some- 
 thing of his greatness to the very soil; in the vicinity of 
 Alba the Long, founded by Anchises' son, lie moulder- 
 ing in the dust of centuries, the bones of young 
 Astyanax, the hope of Troy. History has often recorded 
 such contrasts, showing us nations and heroes finding,
 
 Flora : the Roman Ma^^tyr. 309 
 
 after a long interval, their cradle and their grave, side 
 by side. There is a lake known in the history of the 
 Eepnblic as having been designated by the Delphic 
 oracle as a gauge of the fortunes of Eome, for, accord- 
 ing as it overflowed its banks or not, victory or defeat 
 would ensue to the empire. It lies under the shade of 
 the Alban hill, which was consecrated by Tarquin the 
 Ancient to Latial Jove, and which became the centre of 
 the Latin league conspiring against the Eternal City. 
 In no other district of the Eoman campagna is there to 
 be found such richness of vegetation. The hills terminat- 
 ing so abruptly are striking in their magnificent 
 primaeval roughness, as if the Fiat which created them 
 had been breathed over them but of late : most of them 
 are extinct volcanoes which have imparted great fertility 
 to the soil. The trees are of enormous size, their leafy 
 shelter being as widespread and secure as a tent; the 
 forests are dense and luxuriantly cool. Many of Eome's 
 statesmen delighted in their shade. It was here Pompey 
 loved to play the gardener, and preside over the building 
 of his villa, while his rival's hatred pursued him. 
 Strange retribution ! when Caesar was murdered in the 
 senate house, he fell at the foot of Pompey's statue ; the 
 slain triumvir seemed to rise from his grave at that hour 
 " in all the austere form of sacred majesty ". 
 
 When he had passed away, and the scythe of time 
 had mowed down the flowers that he loved, and the 
 laurels he had planted, there came one to Alba whose 
 name history has handed down to us with execration. 
 Perhaps the hatred he met with, fit reward of liis evil
 
 3IO Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 deeds, made him fear to consort with his fellow-men, for 
 he resolved to build to himself a magnificent solitude, 
 and chose the borders of the Alban lake where Pompey 
 had dwelt. The magnificent ruins, enriched with choice 
 sculptures, show that Domitian had called round him all 
 the talent of the empire, to embellish his villa at Alba. 
 Yet here, as in most of the works of Imperial Eome, 
 beauty pourtrayed itself on a colossal scale ; the crypto- 
 porticoes were temples, in each of which dwelt giant 
 CTods. The Emperor Pontiff was very devout to his 
 heathen divinities, fit types of his own wickedness, and 
 there still exists a circular temple in which he offered 
 sacrifices to Minerva. But the most remarkable feature 
 of the palace of the Caesars, is a series of hanging 
 gardens, several miles in length, consisting of three dis- 
 tinct galleries : of these, the highest borders the lake, 
 being secured from any possible deviation in the soil, 
 and supported by constructions similar to those we 
 admire on the old Pioman roads. These again served as 
 walls to the second gallery, which was less extensive, 
 and opened out on the grounds. The third, situated on 
 the declivity of the hill, was the most pleasant, as the 
 last rays of the setting sun lingered there; it was 
 divided into several porticoes, before each of which the 
 trees had been cut away, so as to leave an empty space 
 for the eye to rest upon the view of distant Eome. At 
 the hour we are describing, it was morning, the sun 
 shone only in the east, and the deep shade of the leafy 
 bowers gave a certain solemnity to the scene; the 
 songsters of the grove had scarcely yet awakened to har-
 
 Floi^a : the Roman Maidyr. 3 1 1 
 
 mony, and the paths of the forest, moist with the heavy 
 dew of the night, were yet untrodden, when two persons 
 entered the lower gallery, the one leaning on the other 
 for support, and both walking slowly. One was aged, 
 the other youthful, but the latter had none of the 
 elasticity of agile years ; care sat on his young brow^ 
 and he moved with pain. The elder man seemed to be 
 the stronger of the two ; endowed with a vigorous con- 
 stitution and an intellectual mind, he was serious, but 
 free from that weight of anxiety which was visible in 
 his companion's countenance. The youth was evidently 
 not his son, for the look he cast on him from time to time 
 was one of affectionate respect. There was much love 
 between them ; but, gentle as was the younger one's 
 manner, there was about him that involuntary haughti- 
 ness, unavoidable in those who have learned to command 
 early ; his features were delicate, yet strongly marked 
 with the characteristic outlines of Trajan. He was suffer- 
 ing from a wound in the leg, and, after some painful efforts 
 to walk, he flung both his arms round his guide, saying 
 in a faint voice: " Good Misitheus, I can try no longer! " 
 
 The man held him fast, to prevent his falling, then 
 lifted him up kindly, gently, as a mother would have 
 done, conveying him to one of the porticoes where 
 cushioned seats awaited him: "My lord and gracious 
 master must recline for some time yet ; we had miscal- 
 culated your strength ". 
 
 " I am always strong when I lean on you, dear friend 
 and minister; the gods treated me kindly when they 
 placed my inexperienced youth in your charge."
 
 3 1 2 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 
 
 " Great Augustus ! it has been an easy task to direct 
 such a mind as yours. Would that I could as surely 
 have shielded your sacred person from harm." 
 
 " Oh, it is only a scratch ! I am ashamed of bearing it 
 so ill. An Emperor that is going to the wars ought to 
 have more courage." 
 
 " My noble master, you make too light of it, and by 
 this you endeavour to palliate the crime that had well- 
 nigh plunged the Roman empire into mourning. Oh, 
 how the people love you! how great has been their 
 affliction ! " 
 
 ''Well! as the gods have spared our life, we must 
 spare that of the poor maniac. But have you examined 
 why the unfortunate youth took refuge in Vesta's 
 temple ? We are Sovereign Pontiff, and if it be sweet 
 to pardon our own wrongs, it would be impious to leave 
 unpunished an offence against the gods." 
 
 " There is only a suspicion in the case, Augustus, but 
 that has fallen on the Vestal Volumnia." 
 
 " I grieve to hear it, for it was the first painful act of 
 my pontificate to separate that maiden from her affianced 
 husband. She showed such virtue on that occasion; 
 her calmness and resignation were surprising. I grieve 
 to hear she has given rise to any suspicion." He 
 leaned his head on his hand, sighed heavily, then, look- 
 ing up at his minister, said inquiringly : " She must be 
 put to the test, good Misitheus, for a Vestal may not be 
 suspected ". 
 
 "Augustus, I have myself examined Volumnia, I 
 have spoken with her at full length : my experience is
 
 Floret : the Rornan Martyr. 313 
 
 that of one who knows human nature. The girl is pure 
 as the driven snow." 
 
 " Then the gods will attest her innocence, she must 
 bear in her hands a sieve full of water from the Tiber." 
 
 The minister, wiser than his young charge, was forced 
 to smile ; but the young Emperor had spoken with such 
 simplicity of conviction, he would not contradict him, 
 and changed the subject. 
 
 " My beloved Sovereign, you are now no longer my 
 pupil. The people whose hearts are yours, wish to see 
 the name of Gordianus descend to one born of you. It 
 is time you should think of forming some alliance which 
 may consolidate your throne, and ensure your domestic 
 happiness." 
 
 Gordianus did not answer for a while; he seemed 
 not to attach any importance to his minister's words, but 
 turned them off playfully. 
 
 " Do you think me, then, very unsteady ? Why do 
 you want to settle me down ? " 
 
 " Nay, my lord Emperor. I have watched over you 
 with the reverence of a subject, guarding a precious 
 treasure for the welfare of Eome, with the love of a 
 father clinging to the last scion of a noble house. I can 
 bear witness to your blameless life and noble virtues; but 
 remember, great prince, you belong not to yourself, but 
 to Eome." 
 
 "Well, suppose I love Eome so much, that I will 
 love her alone, nor share my allegiance with any one." 
 
 " Seriously speaking, may I ask whether you have 
 thought already on the subject ? "
 
 314 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 "Well, to speak the truth, when I made my sacri- 
 fice the other day at the temple, you know how un- 
 favourable the prognostics were ; I was more impressed 
 by them than I chose to appear ; the augurs spoke of 
 an impending danger, and I feel it is at hand ! An 
 interior spirit whispers to me that my days are num- 
 bered, and my life will be short." 
 
 He spoke calmly, as the young often do when they 
 allude to death ; that death which causes the aged such 
 a pang; as if the great journey were easier to those 
 whose bark has just been launched, and glides on 
 swiftly, its sails filled by the breezes of hope, while 
 golden clouds at the horizon bid it speed on in its 
 bright track, to realms of promise beyond. 
 
 "?k[y beloved Sovereign," said the minister tenderly, 
 " why do you speak thus to me, whose years already 
 incline me to the tomb ? " 
 
 "Yet I shall precede you, Misitheus, or follow you 
 very closely. The spirits of the Gordians beckon to 
 me from the Elysian fields ; even now methinks I hear 
 them, and shall join them soon." 
 
 A dead silence fell on them both. The youth looked 
 out on the panorama before him, over which the sun 
 had risen rapidly. The shadows of the trees were very 
 long, and in their interstices were glancing golden rays, 
 as if lambent light played round the heads of the 
 Emperor and his minister. 
 
 The latter observed the blushing tints of the morning 
 sun rest on the pale features of Gordianus. " A happy
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. 315 
 
 omen," he said, "great Augustus, the sun of glory 
 courts you." 
 
 " We will go to meet it in the Eastern wars, when I 
 recover, and see what fate awaits me there. Meanwhile, I 
 was reading another page in the skies." 
 " Where, my Sovereign ? " 
 
 " See how the leaves, dancing in the air, trace charac- 
 ters against the blue firmament, like unto the sentences 
 of a volume written in the skies. Observe," he con- 
 tinued, following with his finger the imaginary letters, 
 " how clear they are — there they sketch images ; here 
 they are dark and closely written, like the pages of a 
 book. Now, look beyond — there is a rent in the foliage, 
 and it forms a fanciful profile against the golden sky. 
 Methinks I recognise there the features of my beautiful 
 mother. How I loved her — that dear lost one ! How 
 the fleecy clouds wave ; even as the spotless robe she 
 wore, which has lingered in my childish memory, 
 indelibly connected with her form and the tones of her 
 sweet voice ! How good were her lessons ! how sacred 
 her farewell! How, when my lips pressed her cold 
 hand, already stiffened in the embrace of death, she bid 
 me be worthy of my father and of the memory of the 
 great Trajan!" . . . He stopped speaking, as if 
 the scene were passing before him now ; he bowed his 
 head, oppressed with the memory he had evoked. 
 
 " And well and nobly," continued the minister, " have 
 you fulfilled the behest of the parent you regret ; Eome 
 has found you worthy of her." 
 
 Gordianus looked up again: "See there," he continued.
 
 3i6 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 
 
 " the tiny leaves are quivering ; they form a page ; it is 
 short, but the characters are closely put together. 
 Perhaps it is the history of my reign, that I see written 
 there ; the story of my life, which must be well filled 
 because its span will be short. Misitheus, I hope thou 
 mayest remain near me to the end." 
 
 The grateful minister pressed affectionately the deli- 
 cate young hand which the boy-Emperor extended to 
 him ; and then raising him from his reclining position : 
 " You are suffering," he said, " more from the effects of 
 seclusion than from illness. Your spirits have been 
 depressed by long confinement to a sick chamber, and 
 this morning's walk, which I hoped would have revived 
 you, has saddened you still more. But I must not let 
 you return to your couch within doors. Come, Augus- 
 tus, I shall order the slaves to bring hither your lettiga, 
 they will carry you about, that you may breathe freely 
 the mountain air." 
 
 " I do hate to be thus borne," exclaimed Gordianus, 
 " it is so unmanly, yet I cannot walk. At least, let no 
 escort come round us, good Misitheus; for I do not 
 wish to be seen reclining like a sick girl. An Emperor 
 ought to die standing." 
 
 He submitted, however, to stretch himself in the 
 lettiga, which was brought up by attendants, and as 
 they bore him out of the dark avenue, he seemed to 
 revive. They passed on to the very borders of the lake, 
 and he sat up to gaze on its blue waters, so mirror- 
 like and undisturbed in the early morning. 
 
 " How calm ! " he observed to the minister, who
 
 Flora ' the Roman Martyr. 317 
 
 walked by his side, " and yet, 'tis said that a volcano 
 raged there once, and those clear sparkling waters once 
 hissed with burning fires. How time changes all things ! " 
 
 " 'Tis the history of many a heart," replied the other 
 smiling; "how many have, in early youth, felt the 
 interior working of ambition, the aspiring flame of 
 genius, the turmoil of human passions, which make the 
 soul overflow; and then has come the soothing influ- 
 ence of age ; the tears of a later sorrow have quenched 
 the living fires. Disappointment and bitterness, wounded 
 pride, forsaken love, and sad experience have flow^ed 
 down into the crater, like so many streamlets from the 
 hill-side, and the volcano has been extinguished. 
 Happy he, who standing on the borders of the crystal 
 lake, can say : ' Thus passed my life ! There may be 
 much below, but all is forgotten now, for the calm and 
 peace of age has filled the void 1 ' And you, my Sove- 
 reign, may the course of your career be more uniform ! 
 may the streamlets descend into a heart already pure, 
 and, when you have filled the same number of years as 
 I, and look back, you will feel what a boon it is to 
 have passed your youth in innocence." 
 
 Gordianus raised his eyes to the heavens where he 
 had said that morning he could read his early death, 
 shook his head, and then endeavoured to speak more 
 cheerfully. 
 
 " I will visit the Emissarium, and then go down to 
 the Xymphseum." 
 
 They bore him on among the rocks thrown up by 
 volcanic eruptions, which had survived the lapse of
 
 31 8 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 centuries : there, in conformity with the oracle which 
 declared to the Eomans they could not take the town of 
 Veii till the waters of the Alban lake should have 
 been drained off towards the sea, the Sovereign People 
 had decreed a work so stupendous, that its very ruins 
 excite the wonder of all beholder to this day. Titus 
 Livius declares this marvellous construction to have 
 been terminated in one year, and this short space of 
 time is no less a marvel. The canal was cut through 
 grey granite, often interrupted by masses of lava ; it 
 was 7,500 feet long, 6 feet high, and 4J feet 
 wide. This space admitted only of four workmen at a 
 time ; and it seems impossible to reconcile this small 
 number of labourers with the short time allotted to 
 them, but a discovery has been made which explains 
 away the difficulty. Vertical wells have been found 
 which, situated at regular intervals, were calculated to 
 sub-divide the work, and, at the same time, served as 
 an exit for those who worked within, enabling them to 
 throw out and carry away stones and rubbish. These 
 wells were situated at the distance of 120 feet from 
 each other ; they were 62 in number, as we can easily 
 calculate by what remains. Strokes of the chisel about 
 an inch deep, are plainly discernible in the granite. 
 We can calculate that each man cutting a foot deep of 
 stone per day, and each well being 200 feet deep, it 
 must have required 200 days to open the 62 wells, 
 and bring them to the level of the Emissarium or canal. 
 We must add 120 days more for the space comprised 
 between them, which, giving a total of 320 days, proves
 
 Flora : the Ro7nan Martyr. 319 
 
 the veracity of Livy, who gives the year 356, A.u.c, as 
 having witnessed the commencement of this work, and 
 the year 357 its completion. At a later period, the 
 declivity given to the waters, having been found too 
 rapid, it was raised by means of a solid construction 
 for the length of 400 feet. Later again, at the opening 
 of the canal, a vaulted chamber was built in solid 
 quadrilateral blocks of grey granite, so as to resist the 
 first impetus, and break the rush of the water, which 
 afterwards passed into the canal. 
 
 The young Emperor left his couch, and leaning on his 
 much-loved minister, proceeded to examine anew a con- 
 struction which he knew well, but which was replete 
 with interest to his active enquiring mind. "And I 
 t(^o," he said, after terminating his inspection, "would 
 fain leave behind me something by which I may be 
 remembered. Good Misitheus, inspire me with the 
 thought of some great public edifice, by which I may 
 benefit my country, so that, when others come, treading 
 the soil I have trod, they may admire, even as I do 
 here, and say : ' This was the work of Gordian ! ' " 
 
 The minister folded his arms, reflected a little in 
 silence, then, placing his hand on the breast of his royal 
 pupil, with a gesture of paternal fondness, he said 
 solemnly : — 
 
 " It is here, my beloved Sovereign, in your own heart, 
 that you will find your noblest victory and your greatest 
 achievement. You can do no greater work for Rome 
 than to show her the example of great virtues. If you 
 cultivate the precocious wisdom with which you are
 
 320 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 gifted ; if you remain pure in the midst of corruption ; 
 modest, while occupying the first throne in the world ; 
 clement and just, while wielding the sceptre of univer- 
 sal dominion, then, verily, will Trajan live again in 
 Gordian, and your name and your glory will lie en- 
 shrined in the memory of your people." 
 
 The young Emperor bowed his head under the 
 solemn words : " I hope you have spoken prophetically, 
 my indulgent friend ; if there has been anything good 
 in my past life, it has been owing to your wise advice. 
 Now, will you point out to the slaves the path that 
 leads to the Nymphaeum ? I have never been there." 
 
 Again they sw^ung him on their shoulders, and began 
 to descend into what once had been the crater of a 
 volcano. Willow trees, which had grown to a prodi- 
 gious size, throve well in the moist soil, and their 
 branches, which were so long as almost to touch the 
 ground, brushed Gordian's face as he was carried under 
 them. The servants would have lopped them off, and 
 cleared the road, but the young Cesar forbade them 
 doing so. " It is so pleasant," he said, " to forget I am 
 an Emperor, and to play with the unruly trees, which 
 have not sworn allegiance to me ; let them be ! " 
 
 On he went, enjoying the sight of that luxuriant 
 vegetation, uncontrolled by the hand of man ; the birds 
 seemed to his delighted ear to sing a carol to liberty, 
 and the first bright coloured insects of spring came 
 buzzing round Gordian, as if courting him in their very 
 vagrancy. After a walk of a short mile, the party came 
 to a halt ; they had reached the water's edge, and found
 
 Flora: the Roinan Martyr. 321 
 
 themselves in a delightful enclosure, where the pink 
 oleander bloomed, and orange trees, thickly planted, 
 diffused a fragrant odour. A natural grotto had been 
 transformed by the care of the Emperor Domitian into 
 a beautiful Nymphseum, whose walls, covered over with 
 marble, added the beauty of art to the picturesque 
 of nature. The original structure had not been altered, 
 and was consequently irregular; the vaulted part formed 
 a recess divided off by columns ; the lower, which was 
 sunk beneath the level of the soil, received the waters 
 which came in eddying from a stream beyond, and 
 formed a miniature lake, in which was reflected, as in 
 a mirror, the panorama of the green hills around. The 
 young Emperor lingered over this scene of complete 
 repose ; he looked up at Mons Albanus, the giant of the 
 chain of the Apennines that lay near; he thought of 
 the scenes of Eoman history, in which it had acted so 
 prominent a part, and now, its shadow fell upon those 
 waters, as an old warrior, weary with glory, seeks 
 in the shades of his native valley forgetfulness and 
 content. 
 
 " My Sovereign is very thoughtful to-day," observed 
 the minister. 
 
 " I am listening to the rippling of the waters, Misi- 
 
 theus, the rushing sound of the wind in the leaves is 
 
 full of music. How eloquent is the silence of nature, it 
 
 is the voice of our Great Mother ! Yet I am not sad 
 
 now, as I was this morning. To hear of our subjects' 
 
 woes is the greatest pain a Caesar can know, and the 
 
 image of that Vestal girl haunts me. I hope sincerely, 
 
 21
 
 32 2 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 though, that she may be found innocent ; the gods will 
 protect her, and prove her virtue, when she passes 
 through her trial." 
 
 " I am not so sanguine, Augustus ; but let us not 
 dwell on this sad subject. Are you inclined to return 
 homewards ? " 
 
 "]^o. I have a strange fancy for wandering this 
 morning. I have never been so far as Diana's wood. 
 Good Misitheus, can you spare another hour from busi- 
 ness, and go with me thus far ? " 
 
 "And neglected despatches, my royal master, and 
 messages from Eome, perhaps ? " 
 
 " They can wait a little longer. Come, it is our holi- 
 day ! When I recover, you shall see what a man of 
 business I will become." 
 
 The winning gracefulness with which the request was 
 spoken, made the old man smile his consent ; he put his 
 hand in the Emperor's, and walked on by the side of his 
 lettiga, under the shady avenues once more, all along the 
 border of the lake, till they got quite beyond it. Farther 
 on the pathway led through the beautiful valley, to 
 which the Latin people gave a name of peace it preserved 
 during centuries : the Yallis Aurea separated the pro- 
 montory of Aricia from the territory of Alba the Long. 
 They ascended the hill, and stopped to rest. The scene 
 which lay outstretched before them was that which we 
 have described in the beginning of our story ; save that 
 now, the morning sun, almost reaching the hour of 
 noon, flooded the widespread plain in a brilhant atmo- 
 sphere of dazzling light. The green fields were varie-
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 323 
 
 gated with a long tissue of gold colour, as the proud 
 buttercups raised their heads, waving their shining 
 corollas above the grass; in contrast with these, the 
 ripening corn-fields were visible beyond. There was no 
 uniform monotony in all that scene, though it lay so 
 hushed and tranquil in the sun ; for, where the forest 
 ended, other groves began, of a brighter and more 
 tender green. The very sea which bounded the horizon 
 was not blue or grey, as is its wont, but its hue varied, 
 as there it sparkled under the sun, here it was darkened 
 by a cloud passing over it, there again a long bright 
 yellow stripe showed the course of the vigorous Tiber, as 
 it rolled on in solitary majesty, unmingled with the 
 waves through which it flowed, like a great destiny 
 which passes through the tumult of ordinary life un- 
 heeded and alone. 
 
 The Emperor's party had now reached the temple of 
 Diana Aricina, the tutelar divinity of the neighbouring 
 forest ; she had guarded Aricia ever since the days of 
 Porsenna, w^ho besieged it. 
 
 "Let me alight," said Gordian, "I wish to offer a 
 sacrifice to the goddess, she must needs protect the 
 Imperial household, for the mother of Julius Caesar was 
 born here. Let the priests, guardians of the temple, 
 be told that I am in their precincts." 
 
 The good news spread immediately through the 
 village, up the hill, and down the valley. In a few 
 minutes, the royal suite was surrounded by a joyful, 
 noisy, yet respectful crowd. The goodness of the 
 Emperor was keenly appreciated by those who had
 
 324 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 suffered from the tyranny of the last reigns, and this 
 had secured to Gordian a deserved popularity. All the 
 country people left their labours, donned their festive 
 garments, and came forward, with green boughs in their 
 hands, all joining in one cry : " A ve Liiperator I " 
 
 He was evidently moved, and made a sign to them to 
 come near. 
 
 " How do you know me ? " he asked, " I have come 
 among you without guards, or any signs of royalty. Few 
 of you can have ever seen me." 
 
 "Ave lmyerato7\'' repeated the crowd, " vives in 
 ceternum ! " 
 
 " Thank you for the wish, good people, but I cannot 
 live eternally, — on this earth at least. The gods are 
 immortal ; let us honour them. I have come to offer a 
 sacrifice to Diana, and, while the preparations are being 
 made, I shall withdraw to the Thermae, which I see are 
 near at hand." 
 
 "They offer but poor accommodation, noble Sovereign,"' 
 interposed one of the most prominent personages in the 
 group, a wealthy land-owner, " Aricia is but ill-prepared 
 for the honour done to it this day." 
 
 Gordian smiled, and quoted a line from Horace — 
 
 " Egressiun magna me excepit Aricia Eoma 
 Hospitio modico." 
 
 " Is that what you are alluding to, my friend ? " he 
 continued. " Yet the kind greeting of these good people 
 is so welcome to us, that we exchange willingly the 
 luxury of our palace, on the hill at Alba, for an hour's
 
 Flora : the Roman Mainy7\ 325 
 
 rest at Aricia. Give us your name. Our nomenclator* 
 is a stranger here." 
 
 " My name is Florentius, and I kneel in homage to 
 the divine Gordian. I am from Eome, and I recognised 
 on the road the features of our idolized Sovereign; it 
 was I who had the honour of announcing your arrival 
 amongst us." 
 
 "Thanks, Florentius; then, will you lead us to the 
 Thermae ? I am ashamed to acknowledge," he added, in 
 a low voice, " that I cannot bear much fatigue since my 
 late indisposition, and I need very much the refresh- 
 ment of the bath." 
 
 Gordianus made himself popular by following the 
 dictates of his own heart, and showing his people he 
 trusted them. As he passed on, now leaning on the 
 arm of the proud and happy Florentius, he walked 
 slowly, and with difficulty ; shouts of joy rent the air, 
 mingled with expressions of sorrow at the good C^sar 
 beinsr so disabled. 
 
 "How pleasant it is to be loved!" exclaimed Gor- 
 dian, and, turning to [Misitheus : " See, I told you this 
 would be a holiday to me ! " 
 
 His attendants alone followed him to the Thermae, 
 and, while he rested there, preparations were made in 
 great haste for the sacrifice which the Emperor had 
 proposed to offer in the temple of Diana Aricina. A 
 
 * Nomenclator was the name given to a slave who, ever by 
 his master's side, acquainted him with the names of all those he 
 met, that he might make himself popular, in greeting them by 
 name.
 
 326 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 black heifer was produced, which the priests had put 
 apart some days previously, owning to its colour rendering 
 it a fit offering for the queen of night ; a white crescent 
 on its forehead seemed to designate it as marked more 
 particularly for the goddess of the silver bow ; youths 
 and maidens led it, holding it with chains of flowers. 
 The procession formed, and went to meet Gordian, as he 
 came forth, quite refreshed, from the bath. He accepted 
 from the priest's hands a sacerdotal garment, and took 
 the lead, with the pious demeanour which was habitual 
 to him. The tripods were smoking at the foot of the 
 steps leading to the temple, and the religious rite began 
 wdth the usual ceremonies. When the young Emperor, 
 after separating from the rest, issued from the temple — 
 where, according to custom, he had withdrawn alone, to 
 hold mysterious commune with the gods — he found that 
 a still greater number of loving subjects awaited him. 
 He looked around for Elorentius, who was there indeed, 
 but not alone, for he had profited by Gordian's short 
 absence to go and fetch his wife and daughter, together 
 with all his slaves, who now formed a goodly retinue, 
 bearing fruits and flowers in their hands. 
 
 " Is this your household ? " asked the Emperor, with 
 a gracious smile. 
 
 "These are my slaves, divine Augustus, who have 
 seized hastily on the first produce of my gardens, as a 
 rural offering to be laid at your feet." 
 
 " I accept them as first fruits due to Ceres ; let them 
 be sent to her altars in Eome. And this noble lady ? " 
 
 riorentius presented Siona, who did homage to the
 
 Floi^a : the Roman Martyr. 327 
 
 Caesar, and then, taking Flora's hand in his : " This is 
 our daughter, our beloved child, she has a petition to 
 present to you ; she wished me to do so in her name, 
 but I told her that Gordian is as good as he is mighty, 
 and a child of Eome may speak to him without fear." 
 
 " An Emperor is bound to hear the petitions of his 
 subjects at all times, and I feel sure that this maiden 
 can ask for nothing but what is right and good." 
 
 There was a slight tremulousness in his voice, and 
 his manner was even kinder than usual, as he met the 
 strange eyes of the girl fixed on him with that expres- 
 sion which we have often noticed, as if another person 
 than he she spoke to were before her, a Being visible 
 to herself only. She was quite calm and self-possessed, 
 and stood for a moment recollected, as if revolving 
 within herself what she had to say, then kneeling : — 
 
 " Have mercy, Ccesar," she implored, " on the mad- 
 man who attempted your life ; have mercy, in acknow- 
 ledgment to that superior Power that watched over 
 you." 
 
 " The pardon thou implorest has already been granted 
 of our own free-will ; he whom the gods had bereft of 
 reason is more deserving of compassion than anger. 
 Eise, daughter of Florentius, do not kneel to thy Sove- 
 reign as a culprit. I never exact, like my predecessors, 
 the meed of adulation or idolatry." 
 
 " I must yet kneel as a suppliant, offering up another 
 prayer. I have a friend whom 1 have loved as a sister 
 from early childhood. The destiny of Volumnia the 
 Vestal is known to many, but few know her virtues as
 
 328 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 I do. Suspicion has fallen upon her. Most just and 
 clement Caesar, deign to believe in her innocence ! " 
 
 " The gods must prove it." 
 
 " Spare her the trial, my Sovereign, the laws of nature 
 will have their course; water must flow through a sieve; 
 do not trust to such an inevitable issue the life or death 
 of my poor friend." 
 
 " I cannot violate the laws, puella, I cannot infringe 
 upon what wiser minds than mine have decreed. 
 Volumnia must abide the test." 
 
 Flora was silent, but remained kneeling with her 
 hands clasped, while her upturned eyes implored more 
 than her words. 
 
 " This much I can grant," he said, in answer to her 
 mute prayer, "I shall order all enquiry about this subject 
 to be postponed for a given time ; that delay T can pro- 
 long at will, and, meanwhile, every liberty shall be 
 allowed the Vestal to plead her cause and clear 
 herself." 
 
 She sprang to her feet with exultation, first kissing 
 the hem of the Emperor's toga : " May a reward be con- 
 ferred on thee, O Csesar," she cried, " proportioned to the 
 desires of thy good heart ; may the remembrance of thy 
 mercy give thee peace, and bring thee joy every day of 
 thy life ! " 
 
 She withdrew to the side of her father, who cried : 
 " Vivct Im'peratoT ". The cry was taken up, and repeated 
 a hundred times. Gordian remained standing, absorbed 
 in thought. Florentius felt a little anxious lest Flora 
 had dared too much ; therefore, consigning her quickly
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 329 
 
 to her mother, to whom he whispered it was time to 
 retire, he drew near to the Emperor alone, and said : 
 " May I ask the divine Augustus to forgive the over- 
 confidence of my daughter. Unaccustomed to the 
 manners of a court, or to intercourse with the world, 
 she felt unabashed in the presence of one who is best 
 known by the love he has won to himself in the hearts 
 of his people ; and she addressed our august Sovereign 
 with the same simplicity with which she appeals to her 
 parents." 
 
 "No homage could have proved more touching to 
 me, good Florentius. I have but one ambition, that of 
 becoming one day in very deed the Father of my 
 people, if my life be spared." He paused, looked round 
 at the crowd, then resumed : " We must now bid you 
 farewell, and I request of you, noble Florentius, to 
 dispose of a sum I leave to the faithful people of Aricia. 
 Let it be spent in some way that may tend to their 
 pleasure and advantage, in some public work which 
 may remain to them as a memory of Gordian." 
 
 He waved his hand, promising to come back to 
 see them again, and shouts rent the air as they had done 
 on his arrival. The Emperor was well-nigh exhausted ; 
 he had gone through a great deal of exertion for one in 
 his feeble state of health, and though he would have 
 preferred not to be carried in his lettiga in sight of the 
 people, he found he could not walk a step further, so 
 allowed it to be brought up. He remained sitting up 
 on it, to look at the people, still returning their saluta- 
 tions, while the slaves bore him awav. Crowds accom-
 
 330 Flora : the Rommi Martyr. 
 
 panied him to a considerable distance. Misitheus had 
 resumed his place by his Sovereign's side, who asked 
 him, in a low voice, whether Morentius were yet in 
 sight. 
 
 " He is at the head of this loyal procession," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " Then bid him come to me." 
 
 All who saw the worthy Eoman approach his Sove- 
 reign, supposed it was to receive more ample instruc- 
 tions with regard to his generous Sovereign's munificent 
 donation, but it was not so. Gordian only took a ring 
 of Etruscan workmanship off his finger, and, giving it 
 to Florentius : " Take this to your daughter," he said, 
 "she implored a favour of me; she must be able to 
 prove I have answered her appeal ; tell her this signet 
 will always admit her to our presence, if ever she 
 require our aid." 
 
 He fell back in a reclining position, and a hectic 
 flush of excitement passed over his features, remaining 
 there so long that his attendants hoped it was the 
 bloom of returning health. By and by, he saw the 
 eye of Misitheus fixed upon him with a look of smiling 
 enquiry. 
 
 " You want to know whether I am pleased with my 
 day ? Yes. I now wish ardently to recover." 
 
 "To do great things for Eome, Augustus, is it not 
 so?" 
 
 " Yes ! to make others happy, and myself too." 
 
 " Perhaps you wdll then be disposed to consider more 
 favourably what I hinted at this morning; if, as I hope,
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 331 
 
 a long life is before you, you must think of sharing 
 your throne with an Empress Augusta." 
 
 " I begin to think it is a duty, Misitheus, but the 
 choice. . . . Must I think of Eome before myself 
 in a matter which so nearly concerns me ? " 
 
 " Your happiness and that of Eome need not clash, 
 my once royal pupil, now my cherished Sovereign ; con- 
 sult the high principles which have guided your life 
 hitherto." 
 
 " The Eomans would not like a foreign princess ; 
 Titus was obliged to give up Berenice, you know." 
 
 " True ! " rejoined the minister, with a half-suppressed 
 smile, " The mother of Julius Csesar was from Aricia, 
 and who can sufficiently extol the blessings she brought 
 on the empire? Choose a Eoman lady, and you are 
 sure to choose well." 
 
 "But I should not like to force the inclinations of 
 any of my subjects." 
 
 "Why!" exclaimed Misitheus, "after piety to the 
 gods, adoration of the sacred emperors is a citizen's first 
 duty." 
 
 " I do not want to be adored, but to be loved." 
 
 " Well, command what you please." 
 
 "No," replied Gordian thoughtfully, "servile adula- 
 tion and forced obedience may satisfy those who have 
 reached an advanced age ; for those who have done 
 with life and its hopes, a shadow may take the place of 
 reality; but with my youth, Misitheus, with all the 
 freshness of early dreams about me, I must have that 
 boon which is not denied to the poorest plebeians in the
 
 ^^2 Flora : the Roman Ma7^tyr. 
 
 land ; to them a wife is the solace of their labours. I 
 must have a sharer in my troublesome pleasures ; I must 
 be cared for, not because I am an emperor, but because 
 I am Gordian." 
 
 " Well spoken ! but this morning you would hear of 
 nothing but living alone." 
 
 "I was depressed, and gave way to gloomy fore- 
 bodings. Or, to be more truthful, for I can conceal 
 nothing from you, my counsellor, fiiend, and confidant, 
 I have been much struck with the daughter of Floren- 
 tius ; but I will not give way to a first impression, 
 I wish to know more of her. How can that be 
 done?" 
 
 The minister kissed with paternal fondness the hand 
 which the youthful Emperor extended to him, and 
 mused over his words, looking up at the Latial moun- 
 tain which we have already described. He seemed to 
 be struck with a sudden idea: "Order," he said, "the 
 public games in honour of Latial Jove, as is customary 
 with the Csesars before engaging on a military expedi- 
 tion ; say that you intend on your recovery to proceed 
 to the East, and that you mean to implore beforehand 
 the protection of the gods. Then will maidens, both 
 Latin and Eoman, flock to join in the pious pastime, 
 and Gordian can choose, according to his own heart and 
 judgment, her whom he thinks worthy to be the Mother 
 of the Eoman people." 
 
 " Thanks, you are ever my wise friend, both in things 
 of moment and youthful fancies. I shall follow your 
 suggestion ; let the orders be issued to that effect."
 
 Flora: the Roman Maj^tyr. 2)Z2> 
 
 They were now enteriog the thicket which led to 
 the beautiful leaf-covered galleries. Misitheus left his 
 Sovereicjn to the care of his attendants, and returned to 
 the palace by a shorter road.
 
 CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 THEEE was a gathering of young girls in a garden 
 on the Aventine hill, where they had so often 
 met in childish days. Years had passed over those fair 
 young brows, death had thinned their ranks. Christ 
 had selected His own among them, the first-fruits of His 
 flock. And of those who remained, which could say 
 her life was a certain tenure ? Yet, Christian as they 
 were, and condemned to an early death by the very fact, 
 the gloomy future did not seem to impart to them the 
 darkness of suspicion or the vague uncertainty of fear ; 
 it had only added to their demeanour the calm majesty 
 of later years ; a modest serenity was the distinctive 
 feature of the Christian virgins, who, watchful yet con- 
 fident, seemed to be ever waiting the bidding of the 
 Heavenly Spouse, Estate paratce. They looked round 
 at each other, remarking how many events had passed 
 since last they had all met together, they wondered — 
 " Of which of them would be said first: 'She is gone ! ' " 
 " I thank you, dear friends," began Flora, in whose 
 house they had assembled, as of yore, " I thank you for 
 so promptly answering my invitation; we must plan 
 together how we can best manage to avoid detection. 
 Sabina, you, whose father is a public man, can best
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 335 
 
 inform us what you have heard about the regulations for 
 this approaching feast." 
 
 "The games in honour of Latial Jove/' replied the 
 girl thus appealed to, "used in the commencement of 
 the Eepublic to be solemnized every year, but when the 
 simplicity of those days gave way to the corruption of 
 the empire, it became customary for victors alone to 
 order them, either in fulfilment of a vow, or in order to 
 implore the protection of the gods. Our Emperor has 
 resolved upon undertaking an expedition to the East, 
 and this is the occasion of the feast, which it is specially 
 enjoined must be a mingling of Eomans and Latins." 
 
 " It is somewhat new to us," observed Flora ; " I 
 suppose it is meant to commemorate the rural sports of 
 our forefathers." 
 
 "But I wish they would leave us out," observed another. 
 
 " They have, on the contrary, thought particularly of 
 our amusement," continued Sabina, " my father tells me 
 that more than one altalena will be set up on the camp 
 of Hannibal, for we young people are supposed to find 
 particular attraction in ?ifestiom in oscillo." 
 
 " We should not object to a feast, if swinging were 
 the only object," remarked Eufina, laughing, "but we 
 cannot join in idolatrous practices." 
 
 " I think I might obtain from my father," resumed 
 Sabina, " a dispensation from joining in tlie procession ; 
 would that save us, do you think ? " 
 
 " Yes, if properly managed that would save us from 
 detection, and save our consciences, for we are always 
 told not to expose ourselves unnecessarily."
 
 2,^6 Flora : the Roman Martyi\ 
 
 " Then I must explain to my father that I have a 
 certain number of companions who are extremely fond 
 of amusement, and I must add they cannot afford to 
 take any time from play to give to the gods." 
 
 " And we, to corroborate your statement, must swing 
 each other most unmercifully." 
 
 " Agreed ! " they cried in chorus ; " would that it were 
 always as easy to avoid sin." 
 
 " We must interest your father too to protect us, for 
 your sake, Flora; I think you told us you had confided 
 the secret of your religion to him." 
 
 "Yes, while in Liguria, and he has been kind and 
 considerate to me ever since. If our abstaining from 
 anything idolatrous be remarked, he will endeavour 
 to smooth it down with the Emperor, who, you must 
 have heard, favoured him greatly on his visit to 
 Aricia." 
 
 " And you, too, made a right good use of the oppor- 
 tunity," observed Lucia. "How strange. Flora, that 
 what you were saying to me the other day should so 
 soon have come to pass. I thought you were dreaming 
 when you expressed so earnest a desire to see the 
 Emperor and implore his clemency for Icilius and 
 Volumnia." 
 
 " It was indeed very strange. And the courage I felt 
 was no less so, for I had not planned how to express my 
 petition. I may almost say I was alone, for my father 
 only presented me and drew back." 
 
 "I am glad I was not there," remarked Eeparata, "I 
 should have felt so anxious for you, whereas, when
 
 Flora : the Roinan Martyr. -i^-x^^ 
 
 thrown on your own resources, you find you have much 
 more courage than you supposed." 
 
 " Well," said Lucia, " I thought you were inseparable, 
 I must confess to being a little jealous." 
 
 " In a sisterly way, I hope," replied Eeparata, laugh- 
 ing. " I seldom quit our kind hosts, but my uncle has 
 returned to Liguria, and on that very day I was helping 
 him to make preparations for his journey, so we were 
 both of us prevented going to Aricia. The noble Siona 
 has kindly invited me to spend another winter under 
 her hospitable roof, and my good uncle has urged upon 
 me to remain, as he is anxious about my health, but I 
 was very loth to let him go without me. You must 
 forgive me, dear companions, if I steal away some part 
 of Flora's heart from you, but indeed I think it is quite 
 large enough to contain us all." 
 
 "I may say we all feel the same towards you, 
 Eeparata," rejoined Flora, with a touch of emotion in 
 her voice; " all of us who enjoy our parents' love feel we 
 cannot do too much to show our sympathy in your 
 sorrows." 
 
 " Now, let us talk of something else," interposed the 
 young Greek, with a strong effort to master her feelings. 
 " Give our young friends an account of your interview 
 with the Emperor ; they have only had a very 
 imperfect version from me." 
 
 "Oh, do, do!" they all repeated; "but the sun is 
 getting very powerful here, let us go into the shade." 
 
 There was a wall built on the brow of the hill, which 
 
 enclosed the property of Florentius; the young girls 
 
 22
 
 ;^^S Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 went to sit close to it, and were thus sheltered from the 
 noon-day heat; they grouped themselves round Flora, 
 and looked down upon Eome. The Palatine, the Jani- 
 culum, the Esquiline were in sight, and the city of 
 the seven hills lay proudly enthroned among them, 
 little dreaming that to that group of fair young girls 
 she would one day owe her glory. 
 
 TF 7^ 7^ 7|? «J? ^ ^ ^ 
 
 A few days passed, and a dense population crowded 
 round the foot of the Latial Mount. Morning and 
 evening, priests toiled up the steep ascent, carrying 
 offerings to the temple at the summit. Tripods 
 were placed along the road; from these the smoke of 
 incense rose unceasingly ; each grateful adorer dropped 
 a few grains on the lire as he passed. In the wood 
 where the pine trees, consecrated to the mother of the 
 gods, diffused a delightful fragrance, temporary altars 
 had been erected. The very road, trodden by the 
 votaries, bore the divine initials, which two thousand 
 years have not effaced from the lasting stone ; the Via 
 Numinalis showed then, as now, the letters V. N". 
 engraved on its huge blocks of pavement. Then, as 
 now, the whole of the Latian Campagna extended on 
 one side of the hill, the Roman on the other, forming 
 to those who stand on the summit a panorama of fields, 
 forest, and plains ; where the two lakes of Albano and 
 Nemi, although far asunder in reality, seem, when 
 viewed in perspective, to lie side by side, as is ever the 
 case with memory, which softens the asperities of life, 
 and makes its bright parts shine on the surface like
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 339 
 
 mirrors. Then, as now, there glittered at the horizon 
 the gold-reflecting waves of the far-off sea, its murmurs 
 hushed in the distance, and its beauty alone visible. 
 Over the whole there seemed to be diffused a bright lumi- 
 nous atmosphere, half of earth, half of heaven, where the 
 perfume of the flowers seemed to blend with ethereal 
 sweetness, and the tree tops, touched with brightness, 
 emitted an odour like unto nature's incense. Such was 
 the invigorating, joyous feeling which penetrated the 
 votaries of that mount, which seemed like an open 
 temple, where a universal homage was offered up — a 
 faint reminiscence of the One God, who even when 
 falsified and misunderstood, holds His sway, neverthe- 
 less, as Sovereign of Nature in the heart of man. Half 
 way up the Latial Mount, there is a surface of table- 
 land which has preserved the name of Hannibal's camp, 
 where, it is said, the warrior was stationed, when, 
 receiving the order to leave Eome and succour his 
 native country, which Scipio had attacked, he was 
 obliged to return. How great must have been the 
 anguish of that brave heart, which had to prefer duty 
 to glory ! Hannibal looked down on the plain of 
 Eome, so near at hand, so easy a prey, could he have 
 seized it ; yet he gave orders to fold the tents and 
 depart. We might almost imagine that the famous 
 "Delendaest Carthago " had been flung back by the patriot 
 general on his enemy's country, and that, before leaving 
 this encampment, he had vowed the soil to destruction, 
 for not a blade of grass will ©tow on that uneven, 
 parched earth, and the peasants say that a huge charnel-
 
 340 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 house lies hid under the surface; for all their efforts 
 towards cultivation only succeed in digging up dead 
 men's bones. Are these the remains of many a bloody 
 fight ? Who can tell ? 
 
 On this very spot, the people now thronged in all the 
 joyousness of a festival day ; food was prepared for them 
 at rural tables, as in the days of Homer ; trees had been 
 cut down from the forest, and wild boars were being 
 cooked before the huge blazing logs. 
 
 The old people sat down to partake of the good 
 cheer, beginning the repast by a libation to Latial 
 Jove. The minstrel, so loved by the ancients, was- 
 not wanting at the banquet, the bard who fired 
 his hearers by the recital of their ancestors' glorious 
 deeds. On this occasion, however, no praises were 
 sung but those of Jove. Under the trees, youths and 
 maidens joined in the choral dance, and performed 
 plays in the style of Greece : all wore crowns in 
 honour of the gods. Now and then a peal of merry 
 laughter resounded in the ranks of the spectators as 
 they listened to the satirical allusions of some favourite 
 comic actor ; but the sport which attracted the greater 
 number, and which was indeed the prominent feature 
 of the day, was that of the swings fastened between the 
 trees, where the young people balanced each other 
 in graceful, unaffected attitudes. 
 
 "Florentius, I salute you," cried Adrias, recognis- 
 ing his friend among a group of spectators, and 
 coming to join him ; " I thought you were too much of 
 a philosopher to condescend to take part in this feast."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 341 
 
 " I have come out of respect to our Sovereign 
 Lord, the Emperor. I have seen him and spoken to 
 him ; he is so good that he well merits the title of 
 divine." 
 
 " So you do not despise court favour although a 
 philosopher ? " 
 
 " Gordian has been nobly munificent to me and 
 mine though I have never been at court." 
 
 " Yes ! I heard of his visitino* Aricia and sjrantins^ 
 the pardon of those two poor young people at Flora's 
 request. It was nobly done of your little maiden to 
 plead for them. Where is she ? Is she here to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes ! there she is in that group of maidens with 
 lilies on their heads." 
 
 " Strange flower to wear in honour of Latial Jove ; 
 it is not consecrated to him." 
 
 *•' Little do I care ! My daughter is a flower in 
 herself, at least in my eyes — the flower of all maidens 
 here present." 
 
 " Well, I must own you are right for once ! How 
 kind and gentle she is to poor Lucilla ! I see she 
 has her by her even now." 
 
 " But where are your children, Adrias, and your 
 wife ? Take me to salute Paulina." 
 
 riorentius was endeavouring to divert his friend's 
 attention from his daughter and her Christian com- 
 panions, whose secret being entrusted to him he felt 
 bound to watch over. He drew away Adrias towards 
 a meadow, where youths were exercising themselves 
 in the foot race, and arrived just in time to see his
 
 342 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 own adopted son, Laurentius, bound on before him, 
 his feet hardly touching the ground, overstep his 
 companions by far, reach the goal, and, with a small 
 pointed lance in his hand, bear off an ^gg which was 
 fixed on a pole as a symbol of victory; he was pro- 
 claimed to have won the crown of green leaves, which 
 he received amid the loud acclamations of the judges. 
 His eye ran round the crowd, where he recognised 
 his father, and running up to him at once, he af- 
 fectionately laid the prize at his feet. 
 
 " Well done, my boy," cried Florentius, " I had 
 hardly expected this of you ; I thought you v/ere not 
 sufficiently strong to try the race." 
 
 " I do not like it particularly, father, but I hoped 
 to afford you pleasure by trying my skill in mauly 
 exercises." 
 
 " You have succeeded beyond my hopes ; and I am 
 the more proud of your success, that some of my 
 friends have been expressing their fear to me, lest 
 the training you have received were calculated to render 
 you effeminate." 
 
 " But you do not think so, father, and therefore 
 please disregard them. I am justly proud of having 
 been brought up at home under your care and that 
 of my adopted mother. The most illustrious of our 
 Eoman heroes were formed by early tuition at their 
 mother's knee. Oh, if ever I become a poet, I shall 
 take for my favourite theme the exalting of woman's 
 character, which has been too often lowered by ignoble 
 praise and silly verse."
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr, 343 
 
 " Eightly spoken ! " cried a merry juvenile voice behind 
 him. " Were it not for that wise speech and that 
 you are my friend, I could not forgive you for winning 
 the prize of the race-course from me. Why, I am 
 twice as strong as you ; and, besides, you are entirely 
 clothed when running, unlike us. You are very hot." 
 
 " You require refreshment, my dear boy," interposed 
 his father. "Go and take some with your good friend, 
 Hippolytus, who is so generous a rival. I must go to 
 present my respects to the Emperor. I am surprised 
 we have not met him; perhaps he may be at the 
 summit of the hill preparing to offer sacrifice." 
 
 riorentius directed his steps up the Via Numinalis ; 
 but, before leaving Hanuibal's camp, he turned aside 
 a little to speak to his wife and daughter. The 
 Christian ladies had gathered together, forming a 
 pleasant group, and sought recreation in innocent 
 pastimes apart from the idolatrous crowd. The blind 
 girl was indeed the only pagan amongst them, but 
 she clung to Flora with a tenacity of affection which 
 would not allow of any separation ; and the exertions 
 made by the latter to save her sister increased her 
 gratitude tenfold. She was an object of compassion 
 to all that young circle, who at first had been kind 
 to her out of regard to Flora ; by degrees they learned 
 to love Lucilla for her own sake when they saw the 
 good they could develop in that young nature, which 
 had been concentrated in itself and rendered fierce 
 by sorrow; and the daily contact with those Chris- 
 tian girls worked visibly on Lucilla. In her absorb-
 
 344 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 ing love for Flora, she would listen to anything from 
 her, even bearing patiently with a gentle chiding ; 
 for her sake she learned to repress the outbursts of 
 an impetuous nature. They got to be so accustomed 
 to her presence that they often forgot she was a pagan, 
 and words would fall from their lips which they had 
 learned at the highest and purest sources of Christi- 
 anity. They spoke together of the happiness of 
 suffering, of the joys of penance, the strength that 
 grows from humiliation. Lucilla listened in silent 
 wonder at first, but with that intuitive perception 
 which is the gift of those that live alone ; those 
 lessons fell on her untutored mind as a ray of light 
 which, penetrating a closed cave, discloses the hidden 
 gems that cast a prismatic reflection upwards ; thus did 
 the first ray of faith dawn on the young pagan's mind. 
 
 Flora was the first to see her father drawing near to 
 them, and she immediately left her companions to go 
 and meet him. The glow of health was on her cheek, 
 and her simple white stole became her so well that her 
 father looked at her with pardonable pride : " I have 
 been watching you from a distance," said he, "and 
 rejoiced to see you take so active a part in the day's 
 amusement. I see that no one has molested or even 
 noticed your party ; in this crowd you can pass un- 
 perceived." 
 
 "Dear father, we have followed your prudent sugges- 
 tions to the letter. We took care to arrive after the 
 hour fixed for the sacrifice so as not to participate 
 in it."
 
 Flo7'a : the Roi7iaii Martyr. 345 
 
 " Then you are not aware that it has not taken place 
 at all. The Emperor, who ought to perform it, has not 
 appeared, and the cause of his absence is not known." 
 
 " Long life to Gordianus ! Long life to the good 
 Emperor, the second Trajan, the protector of innocence, 
 the forgiver of injuries ! May the thread of his life be 
 spun of gold ! " 
 
 Thus sang a chorus of manly voices, juvenile yet 
 deep-toned, louder and louder rang the notes as they 
 ascended the hill and drew near ; there was one voice 
 that led the song, varying the Emperor's praises at 
 every verse, then all joined in the burthen, Vwd in 
 ceternum ! They passed out of a thicket which had 
 somewhat sheltered them from view, and came up the 
 steep road in order. He who was at their head wore 
 white garments, a crown of lilies on his head, a palm 
 branch in his hand; his demeanour was grave and 
 modest; while his companions sang with the exuberance 
 of joy. His bearing was that of a deep, well regulated 
 feeling ; indeed, so subdued was his manner that he did 
 not raise his eyes on the festive scene, but went on his 
 way steadily, and would have passed by the place 
 where Florentius was standing had not the latter 
 greeted him, calling out : " All hail, Icilius, thou here ! 
 why, the gods be praised ! " 
 
 The young man turned round at once on hearing his 
 name called upon, and looked much agitated ; some 
 memory seemed to be evoked within him connected 
 with the mental derangement from which he had 
 suffered so much, but Flora was by her father's side.
 
 34^ Floi^a : the Roman Martyr. 
 
 and the sight of her calmed him at once. He asked his 
 companions to go on without him, and, standing alone, 
 with his arms folded on his breast : " Florentius," he 
 said, " allow me to thank 3^ our daughter, or rather, help 
 me yourself to fulfil my debt of gratitude. Noble 
 maiden, you have been doubly my benefactress. May 
 the remembrance of what you have done for me be your 
 reward until your dying day, while I promise to pass 
 my life in the manner which, I know, will please you 
 best. May it be often given you to perform deeds 
 worthy of yourself." 
 
 "I accept the promise, Icilius," she said, "and am 
 indeed so happy that I need no further reward. I did 
 not know what had become of you since "... she 
 hesitated, then asked, " Have you seen Hippolytus ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " he said with a bright smile, and a look of 
 unutterable thankfulness. 
 
 , She understood he had received baptism, which she 
 had requested Hippolytus to undertake to prepare him 
 for. She glanced at his white spotless toga, and said : 
 " Oh, I am so thankful you have seen Hippolytus ". 
 
 " Who is calling me ? " cried a merry voice, and the 
 youth we have seen following Laurentius from the race- 
 course, came up, still with his friend, and finding him- 
 self suddenly in the midst of acquaintances he had not 
 expected to meet, looked a little bashful. 
 
 " Why, here you come again with the speed of an 
 arrow," said Florentius, laughing. " I left you both 
 running off to the games; have you wings to your 
 feet ? "
 
 Flora : the Roman Martyr. 347 
 
 Both were so struck with the sight of Icilius that 
 they could not hear any one else : " I rejoice with you 
 from my heart, Icilius," was the pleased salutation of 
 Laurentius. One look from his sister showed him there 
 was more subject of joy there even than the recovery 
 of health and reason. 
 
 Wishing to place them all at ease, she said : " Forgive 
 me, Icilius, if I recall to you a painful remembrance, 
 but there is one stands before you to whom you owe 
 much. Hippolytus is the son of the centurion who had 
 the command over the Mamertine prison ; he did a great 
 deal towards consoling you during your captivity, and I 
 feel sure no one rejoices in your liberation more than 
 he does." 
 
 Icilius, with the humility he derived from his new 
 faith, bowed to the young soldier without any token 
 of familiarity, not knowing how far Hippolytus would 
 like the acquaintance of one who had been so lately his 
 prisoner : " I feel deeply the weight of the obligation I 
 have incurred towards you, Hippolytus," he said. "Kind- 
 ness in affliction is a boon beyond thanks. May the hap- 
 piness most desired at your age be yours ; may every 
 success attend you in the career you have chosen." 
 
 The young soldier was touched ; almost without per- 
 ceiving it he gave his hand to Icilius, and in so doing 
 his eyes were raised to Flora, though only for an instant. 
 That look did not escape Icilius ; he guessed at once 
 what was the secret spring of Hippolytus' actions, so 
 prone are we all to fathom the hearts of others by our 
 own.
 
 348 Flora: the Roman Martyr. 
 
 " And where are you going ? " resumed Florentius. 
 "You were at the head of a joyful band just now, 
 singing a fine ode, as I thought." 
 
 " Yes ; the first act of my liberty has been to assemble 
 such of my friends as could the best sympathise with 
 my feelings, and go to meet Gordianus with the song of 
 gratitude on our lips, and an undying love in our hearts. 
 Much as I shall suffer in beholding him I have injured, 
 yet I do wish to show him how deeply I regret an act 
 which I can hardly call my own, but that of a madman." 
 
 " That is a right distinction and a difficult one to 
 define, my young friend ; nevertheless, you have hit it 
 off well. Two natures in one person ; an act performed 
 without the concurrence of the understanding can hardly 
 be said to be complete, if not complete it is not per- 
 formed at all. Let me see ! " Here the philosophical 
 Florentius fell into one of his musing^ fits, which mis^ht 
 have lasted indefinitely had not Laurentius diverted his 
 attention by adroitly interposing with the remark — 
 
 " Tcilius has undertaken a solemn duty in going to meet 
 the Emperor, perhaps it would be better not to delay him." 
 
 " True, but where can the Emperor be ? My son, 
 come with me, and let us enquire." 
 
 They went out towards a tent covered with purple 
 and snowy white draperies ; servants were stationed 
 round, as if guarding the sacred person of the Emperor, 
 but the tent was empty; the menials awaited the arrival 
 of their master. Meanwhile the voice of prayer resounded 
 on the Via Numinalis, as also that of song and joy. 
 
 The feast of Latial Jove was to last three days, but
 
 Flora : the Rouian Martyi\ 349 
 
 those who had ordered the pastime took no share in 
 it. Misitheus had been seized with a sudden and violent 
 fever ; Gordianus, with the kind-hearted though tfulness 
 we have seen him show to his old minister, had for- 
 gotten every other concern to watch by the bed-side of 
 him who was about to close his long and useful career. 
 Thanks to him, the reign of the young Emperor had 
 been one of the most peaceful and virtuous that ever 
 graced the throne. Even at this hour, when the old 
 man felt, in the rapid decay of his faculties, the symp- 
 toms of an approaching dissolution, he entertained his 
 royal pupil with great and noble plans : " Beware," he 
 said, " to whom you give your confidence in future, you 
 will find many to flatter you, few that will love you 
 for yourself, as I have done. Beware, Gordianus, for 
 you are easily influenced." 
 
 " Oh, but you will recover, Misitheus. You must live ! 
 You have not accomplished yet all your heart desired." 
 
 " The fates are inexorable, Csesar, the thread of my 
 life is spun. I feel quite struck down. Eemember 
 how often we have thought and worked together for the 
 welfare of Eome; you must now execute what we 
 together conceived. Your expedition to the East ! . . . 
 do not put that off. Yet I regret your leaving Eome, 
 for you have no one to take your place during your 
 absence ; this fickle people forget their Sovereign when 
 he is not in sight; if even there were an Augusta to 
 represent you ! . . . I wish you were married, 
 Gordianus." 
 
 " That was the subject of our last conversation
 
 350 Flora: the Roman Alartyr. 
 
 together ; the very motive of our assembling the people 
 at this feast in honour of Latial Jove." 
 
 "Is it so ? I had forgotten. My memory fails me. All 
 within me dies first . . . the body will follow. Why 
 are you here, Csesar ? Go, show yourself to the people." 
 
 " Not while you, my best friend, require my company 
 and my help." 
 
 " You can do nothing more for me." 
 
 "What? can I not comfort you by my presence? 
 You are, in truth, a poor flatterer, Misitheus." 
 
 A faint smile played on the sick man's lips: "I 
 would," he said, " that my couch were drawn near to 
 the window, that I might look again on the plains of 
 my dear country. Nay, Csesar, I did not mean you to 
 do it, my dear Sovereign; call a slave." He tried to put 
 away Gordian's hands, but the latter only pressed his 
 affectionately, saying, with a melancholy smile : " Even 
 as you tended my youth, so would I have watched 
 over your old age ... if" ... He moved 
 with great ease the light iron bedstead of Etruscan 
 workmanship, on which the minister, a foe to luxury, 
 reclined ; he opened the casement with his own hand, 
 and a flood of rich, mellowed, softened light poured 
 into the room, and played round the head of the dying 
 man : " Is it too much for you ? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 " No, no, only shade my eyes, for I am very weak. 
 Yes, I see it all. Latium . . . and, in the distance 
 . . . far away, lies Eome, I know ; but I cannot see 
 her as I used. . . . Had I thought to die, I should 
 have preferred not being removed here, Gordianus; I
 
 Flora : the Roman Marty i^. 351 
 
 would fain have expired within her walls . . . even 
 as a son returns home to die on his mother's breast ! " 
 
 He fell back, weary and exhausted, gently murmur- 
 ing : '' The first and the last love ! " 
 
 A long silence ensued, interrupted only by the short 
 breathing of the elder man, and the suppressed sobs of 
 the younger, who struggled to conceal his grief. 
 Suddenly the former raised his head, and said with a 
 strong effort : " Commit no injustice, Gordianus ! " 
 
 " We have not wronged anyone, I think." 
 
 "I hope not, but" . . . 
 
 Another pause, the fever was at its height, Misitheus 
 began to speak wildly: "Where am I going?" he asked. 
 
 " To Elysium, where you will meet the shades of the 
 heroes, where you will join those who have done much 
 good in their lives." 
 
 " Who has told you so ? " 
 
 "Who? I do not know . . . the oracles, the poets." 
 
 " What are they that* we should believe in them ? 
 . . . It is not sleep I am going to . . . Why 
 should I sink into dark, perpetual night ? when there 
 is a feeling within me which revolts against destruction 
 and craves to live ? . . . Prince, we have studied 
 many questions together, . . . why have we left 
 this, the last of all, unfathomed ? " 
 
 The young Emperor was at a loss; he thought the 
 mind of his friend wandered, and endeavoured to calm 
 him by making use of an argument which was his 
 favourite theme: " We have laboured for the happiness 
 of liome " he said.
 
 352 Flora: the Roman Marty 7\ 
 
 " Eome ! " repeated the other bitterly, " and what has 
 been my reward ? What will fame avail to my dust ? 
 Eome ! can she give me one hour of life ? . . . 
 Alas ! alas ! I have heard of children dying trium- 
 phantly, saying they were going to claim an eternal 
 reward, what could that be ? " 
 
 The Emperor was silent. He called for assistance, 
 alarmed at the rapid change which was coming over 
 the dying man. His utterance grew choked, nor 
 could Gordianus, lovingly bent over him, distinguish 
 any meaning in those imperfect sounds, indistinct like 
 the wailings of childhood ; for there is a strange 
 similarity in our entrance to, and our exit from, 
 life. The light grew fainter ; golden rays no longer 
 poured in, but deep-coloured violet and crimson hues 
 shed a mysterious tint of warning. Gordianus feared 
 lest the last moment should pass unperceived, for the 
 blood of life had retired to its last stronghold and 
 total exhaustion had succeeded to the ravings of fever. 
 Some time yet elapsed, .... the Emperor felt 
 the once strong frame of his beloved friend quiver in 
 his embrace, while words escaped him uttered in that 
 slow, uncertain manner with which dreamers speak in 
 their sleep. Misitheus was indeed sinking into his last 
 rest as he said : " Seek, Gordianus, seek .... 
 that immortal reward those children spoke of ! " 
 
 The pagan had expired. A little light flickered 
 yet in the west; another light, dim, yet prophetic, 
 had dawned, but too late, upon his soul.
 
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