TO THE LIONS I * IT is the object of
this graceful tale to present the circum- stances of one of the early persecutions of the Christians, the persecution under Trajan, in that accurate and vivid form in which none but a considerable classical scholar familiar with all the literature of the period could present them. To the Lions ! does not challenge comparison with Cardinal Wise,. man's Fabiola or Cardinal Newman's Callista ; for the story- is mach slighter, and the details of the martydom itself are • To the Lions I a Tale of the Harty Christians. By the Bev. Alfred J. Church, ILA.. Professor of Latin in University College, London, With 16 Illustration* by H. If. Paget. London; Seeley and Co.
far less insisted on. Indeed, there is no attempt to present an elaborate picture of the state of mind through which the martyr of this story is supposed to pass. Professor Church concerns himself more anxiously with a study of the state of mind of the Roman Governor who had to sanction the martyr- dom, and of his advisers, than with that of the state of mind of those who bad to suffer it. Indeed, the story is more or less subservient to the history rather than the history to the story ; and after reading it, we feel that we understand much more clearly than before, both the sort of compulsion under which some of the best of the Roman Emperors acted in ordering these persecutions, and the kind of influences which set the authority of the law in motion against the Christians ; and yet we are interested throughout, and are never conscious that we are being instructed rather than amused. The whole framework of the persecution, first in the Bithynian NicEea and then in Ephesus, is given in very graphic fashion, and both Pliny and Tacitus, as well as the imaginary personages of the story, are brought before us with all the skill of a scholar who is perfectly familiar with the history and litera- ture of the period with which he deals. Here, for instance, is a dialogue which, full as it is of the destiny of the Christians of the tale, is all the more interesting because such a dialogue might really have taken place between two of the most dis- tinguished of Trajan's subjects :—
"Pliny had just risen from his seat, after swallowing a cordial -which his body physician has concocted for him, when the soldier who kept the door announced a visitor= Cornelius Tacitus, for his Excellency the Governor.' Pliny received the new-comer, who, indeed, had been his guest for several days, with enthusiasm. You were never more welcome, my Tacitus, he cried. Either I am in worse trim for business than usual, or the business of the day has been extraordinarily tiresome. In the first place, every- thing that they do here seems to be blundered over. In one town they build an aqueduct at the cost of I don't know how many millions of sesterces, and one of the arches tumbles down. Then, in NicEe here, they have been spending millions more on a theatre, and, lo and behold ! the walls begin to sink and crack, for the wise people have laid the foundations in a marsh. Then everybody seems to want something. The number of people, for instance, who want to be made Roman citizens is beyond belief. If Rome were empty, we could almost people it again with them. But, after all, these things need not trouble me very much. One only has to be firm and say "No !" But here is a more serious matter, upon which I should like to have your advice.' The Governor handed to his friend two or three small parchment rolls, which he took from a greater number that were lying upon a table. As Tacitus read them, his look became grave, and even troubled. What am I to do in this matter ?' said the Governor, after a short pause. For the last two or three days these things have been positively crowding in upon me. You don't see there more than half that I have had. They all run in the same style : I could fancy that a good many are in the same handwriting. "The most excellent Governor is hereby informed that there is a secret society, calling itself by the name of Christus, that holds illegal meetings in the neighbourhood of this city; that the members thereof are guilty .of many offences against the majesty of the Emperor, as well as of impiety to the gas ;" and then there follows a long list of names of these same members. Some of these names I recognise, and, curiously enough, there is not one against which I know any harm. Can you tell me anything about this secret society which calls itself by the name of Christus ?'—' Yes,' answered Tacitus ; it is more than fifty years ago since I first heard of them, and I have always watched them with a good deal of interest since. It was in the eleventh year of Nero—you could only have been an infant then, but it was the time when more than half Rome was burnt down.'—' I remember it,' interrupted Pliny, though I was only three years old ; but one does not forget being woke up in the middle of the night because the house was on fire, as I was.'- Tacitus went on : 'Well, I shall never forget that dreadful time. The fire was bad enough, but the horrors that followed were worse. People, you know, began to whisper that the Emperor himself had had the city set on fire, because he wanted to build it again on a better plan. Whether he did it or no, he was capable of it ; and it is certain that he behaved as if he were delighted with what had happened, looking on at the fire, for instance, and singing some silly verses of his own about the burning of Troy. Well, the people began to murmur in an ominous way—you see, more than half of them were homeless. So the monster found it convenient to throw the blame on some one else, and he threw it upon the Christians. You know what a Roman mob is ; as long as it has its victims, it does not much care about the rights and wrongs of a case. I did not see much of what was done to these poor wretches, but I saw enough to make me shudder to this day when I go by the place. It was at a corner of the Gardens on the Palatine. They had fastened one of the miserable creatures to a stake, and piled up a quantity of combustibles about him, but not near enough to kill him at once when they were set on fire. I shall never forget his face. It was night, but I could see it plainly in the light of the flames, which yet had not begun to scorch it. There was not a trace of fear on it. He might have been a bridegroom. Boy as I was, it struck me very much, and I said to myself, "These are strangely obstinate people, I take it, and might be very dangerous to the State." And that is the view I have always taken of them ; and it has been borne out by every- thing that I have seen or heard.' "
The beat part of the book is, however, the description of the games and combats in the great amphitheatre at Ephesus before the Christians were given to the lions. Here, for instance, is a very happy specimen of the play which came before the terrible earnest of the martyrdom, including as it does the condescension of the Pro-Consul of Asia who delighted the spectators by eating in public :—
"The first part of the show was, we may say, ornamental. The ostriches, which had never been seen before in Ephesus, were especially admired. Yet greater applause were excited by some performing animals. A hunting leopard caught a deer, and brought it back unharmed. Still more astonishing, a wolf pur- sued and overtook a hare, and laid it uninjured at the feet of its trainer. But the palm was given by common consent to the troop of performing elephants. One animal traced the name of the Emperor in Greek letters with its trunk on the sand. Two others imitated a fight of gladiators with great skill. But most astonishing of all was the performance on the tight rope, when two of the animals carried a litter in which a companion, who represented a sick man, was lying. At midday there was an interval for refreshment, and the theatre became the scene of a gay and noisy picnic. The Governor delighted the people by his condescension in taking his meal in public. Every spectator was able to flatter himself with the social distinction of having lunched in the company of the chief magistrate."
And here, again, is a very spirited prelude to the martyrdom, in the description of a Christian soldier's combat with a panther from Cappadocia, and of the pardon which he earned by his gallant fight
"Most dropped the weapon on the ground ; one or two would have thought it sinful to use it. There was one exception, and this was the centurion Fabius, the officer whom my readers will remember as having commanded the arresting party on the occasion when the Christian assembly was surprised. Fabius had felt great remorse for the part which he had played on this occasion. The courage and faith of the prisoners whom he had been the unwilling instrument of taking, had touched him to the heart, and he had resolved to make his long-delayed profession. Between the first and second hearing of the accused he had been secretly baptised, travelling to a neighbouring city for the purpose, and had then come forward and boldly avowed himself to be a Christian. He was now matched with a panther from Cappadocia, an animal of unusual size, which, in preparation for its duty as an executioner, had been kept in a state of starvation for several days. The old fighting instincts of the soldier revived when the weapon was put into his hand, and though he did not hope or even wish for life, he resolved to strike a blow for himself. A pole stood in the centre of the arena, with the ground slightly rising round it. Fabius planted himself by this, with his short sword in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the panther as it crept cat-like towards him, waving its long tail backwards and forwards in its rage. His resolute attitude was greeted with a roar of applause from the spectators, who had viewed with contempt and disgust what they regarded as the cowardly submission of the other prisoners to their fate. When the panther had come within the length of its leap, it paused awhile, dropping its eyes before the soldier's resolute gaze, but watching its opportunity. This was not long in coming. A puff of wind moved aside one of the edges of the awning, and sent a ray of sunshine into the soldier's face. For a moment he was dazzled, and at that moment, with a loud roar, the panther made his spring. Simultaneously, Fabius dropped upon his left knee, holding his sword firmly with both hands, as if it had been a pike. Had it been a more effective weapon, he might have escaped almost unharmed; as it was, the blade inflicted a long gash in the animal's breast, but bent, so poor was its temper, when it came into contact with the bone. Still, it checked the panther's attack, and the soldier was able to find a temporary shelter behind the pole. But the creature was not seriously wounded, and what was he to do without a weapon ? The bent sword lay useless on the ground, and the beast was gathering its forces for another spring. Suddenly the soldier's eye seemed to be caught by something which he saw on one of the benches near the Proconsul's seat. He ran in this direction at the top of his speed, amidst a howl of dis- approbation from the spectators, who thought this attempt at flight as cowardly as it was useless. But as he approached the side of the arena the reason for this strange movement became evident. A long hunting-knife, thrown by one of the spectators, came whirling through the air. An old comrade of the centurion's had bethought him of this as the only possible help that he could give. Fabius caught it dexterously by the hilt, and turned to face his savage antagonist. Man and beast closed in fierce encounter. More than once they rolled together on the sand. But the blade of the knife was of a better temper than the faithless sword. Again and again the soldier plunged it into the animal's side. In a few minutes he stood breathless, and bleeding from a score of deep scratches, but substantially unhurt, with the panther dead at his feet. A roar of applause, mingled with cries of 'Pardon !' Pardon ! ' went up from the multitude. The Governor beckoned the centurion to approach. Well done, comrade !' he said. The Emperor must not lose so brave a soldier. Hush !' he went on, perceiving that the centurion was about to speak, and fearing lest some ill-timed declaration of his faith might make it impossible to save him. 'Hush ! it is not a time to ask questions. A surgeon must look to your wounds ; I will see you to-morrow.' And the centurion was led out of the arena."
We must not quote the passage in which the martyrdom itself is described, though it is the most touching in the book, and brings before us the terrible scenes of the Roman amphitheatre with a vivacity that leaves a very strong impression on the reader. Though the story is evidently written to illustrate the history, rather than the history studied to give a framework to the story, no one will find Mr. Church's To the Lions ! at all of the nature of an antiquarian treatise, or will lay it down without reading it eagerly to the end. The characters are all well and vigorously outlined, though they are not elaborately painted in.
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