 Dramatas Personae of Marta of the Catacombs, author unknown. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Narrator, read by Esterman Simonides. Additional narration by Beth Thomas. Marcellus, read by Patrick Seville. Lucullus, read by Jason in Panama. Honorius, read by Donald Gilmore. Cecilia, read by W. P. Nurellis. Brother Sina, Old Man, read by Larry Wilson. Paulia, read by Eddie Sherman. Young Maiden, and Singing Christian, read by Devorah Allen. Christian Gladiator, read by Larry. African, read by Rupert Holliday. Judge, read by David Kowarski. Marcellus' companion, read by Twinkle. Friendly man, read by Recording Person. Massinja, read by Lianya. Spokesman, crowd member, read by Marianne. Crowd member two, read by Julie Barkley. End of Dramatas Personae. Chapter one of the Marta of the Catacombs, author unknown. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter one, The Colosseum. Butchered to make a Roman holiday. It was a great festival day in Rome. From all quarters, vast numbers of people came pouring forth to one common destination. Over the Capitoline Hill, through the Forum, past the Temple of Peace and the Arch of Titus and the Imperial Palace, on they went till they reached the Colosseum, where they entered its hundred doors and disappeared within. There, a wonderful scene presented itself. Below, the vast arena spread out, surrounded by the countless rows of seats, which rose to the top of the outer wall, over a hundred feet. The whole extent was covered with human beings of every class and every age. So vast an assemblage gathered in such a way, presenting to view long lines of stern faces, ascending far on high in successive rows, formed a spectacle which has never elsewhere been equaled, and which was calculated beyond all others to awe the soul of the beholder. More than one hundred thousand people were gathered here, animated by one common feeling, and incited by one single passion. It was the thirst for blood which drew them hither, and nowhere can we find a sadder commentary on the boasted civilization of ancient Rome than this her own greatest spectacle. Here were warriors who had fought in foreign wars and were familiar with deeds of valor, yet they felt no indignation at the scenes of cowardly oppression displayed before them. Nobles of ancient families were here, but they can find in these brutal shows no stain upon their country's honor. Philosophers, poets, priests, rulers, the highest as well as the lowest in the land, crowded these seats, but the applauding shout of the patrician was as loud and as eager as that of the plebeian. What hope was there for Rome when the hearts of her people were universally given up to cruelty and brutal oppression? Upon a raised seat in a conspicuous part of the amphitheater was the emperor Decius, near whom the chief people among the Romans were gathered. Among these there was a group of officers belonging to the Praetorian guards who criticized the different points in the scene before them with the air of connoisseurs. Their loud laughter, their gaiety, and their splendid attire made them the idol of much attention from their neighbors. Several preliminary spectacles had been introduced, and now the fights began. Several hand-to-hand combats were presented, most of which resulted fatally, and excited different degrees of interest according to the courage or skill of the combatants. Their effect was to wet the appetite of the spectators to a keen or relish and fill them with eager desire for the more exciting events which were to follow. One man in particular had drawn down the admiration and applause of the multitude. He was an African from Mauritania, of gigantic strength and stature, but his skills seemed equal to his strength. He wielded his short sword with marvelous dexterity and thus far had slain every opponent. He was now matched with a gladiator from Batavia, a man fully equal in stature and strength to himself. The contrast which the two presented was striking. The African was tawny with glossy, curling hair and glittering eyes. The Batavian was light in complexion, with blonde hair and keen gray eyes. It was hard to tell which had the advantage, so nearly were they matched in every respect. But as the former had already fought for some time, it was thought that the odds were rather against him. The contest, however, began with great spirit and eagerness on both sides. The Batavian struck tremendous blows, which were parried by the adroitness of the other. The African was quick and furious, but he could do nothing against the cool and wary defense of his vigilant adversary. At length, at a given signal, the combat was suspended and the gladiators were laid away, not through anything like mercy or admiration, but simply through a shrewd understanding of the best mode of satisfying the Roman public. It was well understood that they would return again. Now a large number of men were led into the arena. These were still armed with a short sword. In a moment they had begun the attack. It was not a conflict between two sides, but a general fight in which every man attacked his neighbor. Such scenes were the most bloody and therefore the most exciting. The conflict of this kind would always destroy the greatest number in the shortest time. The arena presented a scene of dire confusion. Five hundred armed men in the prime of life and strength all struggled confusingly together. Sometimes they would all be interlocked in one dense mass. At other times they would violently separate into widely scattered individuals with a heap of dead upon the scene of the combat. But these would assail one another again with undiminished fury. Separate combats would spring up all around. The victors in these would rush to take part in others until at last survivors had once more congregated in one struggling crowd. At length the struggles became weaker. Out of five hundred but one hundred remained and these were weary and wounded. Suddenly a signal was given and two men leap into the arena and rush from opposite sides upon this crowd. There were the African and the Batavian. Fresh from their oppose they fell upon the exhausted wretches before them who had neither the spirit to combine nor the strength to resist. It became a butchery. These two giants slaughtered right and left without mercy until they alone stood up upon the arena and the applause of the innumerable throng came down in thunder to their ears. These two again attacked each other and attracted the attention of the spectators while the bodies of the wounded and slain were being removed. The combat was as fierce as before and precisely similar. The African was agile, the Batavian cautious. But finally the former made a desperate thrust. The Batavian parried it and returned a stroke like lightning. The African sprang back and dropped his sword but he was too late for the stroke of his foe had pierced his left arm. As he fell a roar of joy arose from one hundred thousand human beings. But this was not to be the end. For even while the conqueror stood over his victim the attendants sprang forward and drew him away. Yet the Romans knew and the wounded man knew that it was not mercy. He was merely to be reserved for a later but a certain fate. The Batavian is a skillful fighter, Marcellus said one young officer to a companion among the group which has been alluded to. He is indeed Luculus, replied the other. I do not think that it ever saw a better gladiator. Indeed, both of them were much better than common. They have a better man than either inside there. Ah, who was he? The gladiator, Macer. I think he is about the best I have ever seen. I've heard of him. Do you think he will be out today? I understood so. The short conversation was interrupted by a loud roar which came from the Bavarium, a place where the wild beasts were confined. It was a fierce and a terrific roar such as the most savage beasts give when they are at the extremity of hunger and rage. Soon iron gratings were flung open by men from above and the tiger stalked forth into the arenas. He was from Africa, once he had been brought but a few days previously. He had been kept three days without food and his furious rage, which hunger and confinement had heightened to a terrible degree, was awful to behold. Lashing his tail, he walked round the arena gazing with bloodshot eyes at boarded the spectators. Their attention was soon diverted to another object. From the opposite side, a man was thrust out into the arena. He had no armor but was naked like all gladiators with a simple accession of a cloth around his loins. Bearing in his hand the customary short sword, he advanced with a firm pace toward the center of the scene. All eyes were at once fixed upon this man. Macer! was called around by the innumerable spectators. The tiger soon saw him and uttered a short savage growl of fearful import. Macer stood still, with his eyes calmly fixed upon the beast, who lashing his tail more madly than ever bounded toward him. Finally, the tiger crouched and then with one terrific spring leaped directly upon him. The master was prepared. Like a flash he darted to the left and just as the tiger fell to the earth, he dealt the short sharp blow straight to his heart. It was a fatal stroke. The huge beast shuddered from head to foot and drawing all his limbs together. He uttered a last howl that sounded like almost the scream of a human being and fell dead upon the sand. I gained the applause of the multitude rose like a thunder peel all around. Wonderful! cried Marcellus. I never saw a skill equal to that of Macer. Without doubt he has been fighting all his life. rejoined his friend. But soon the carcass of the tiger was drawn away and it gained the creak of a grating as it swung apart attracted attention. This time it was a lion. He came forth slowly and looked all around upon the scene as if in surprise. He was the largest of his species, a giant in size and had long been preserved for some superior antagonist. He seemed capable of encountering two animals like the tiger that had preceded him. Beside him, Macer were like a child. The lion had fasted long but he showed no fury like that of the tiger. He walked across the arena and then completely around in it in a kind of trot as though searching for escape. Finding every side close, he finally retreated to the center and putting his face close to the ground he uttered a roar so deep so loud and so long that the ponderous stones of the coliseum itself vibrated at the sound. Macer stood unmoved not a muscle of his face changed. He carried his head erect with the same watchful expression and held his sword ready. At length the lion turned full upon him. The wild beast and the man stood face to face eyeing one another. But the calm gaze of the man seemed to fill the animal with wrath. He started back with his hair and tail erect and tossing his mane he crouched for the dreadful spring. The vast multitude stood spellbound. Here indeed was a sight worthy of their interest. The dark form of the lion darted forward but again the form of the gladiator with his customary maneuver leaped aside and struck. This time however his sword stuck a rib and fell from his hand. The lion was slightly wounded but the blow served only to rouse his fury to the highest point. Yet Macer lost not one jot of his coolness in that awful moment. Perfectly unarmed he stood before the beast waiting his attack. Again and again the lion sprang but each time he was evaded by the nimble gladiator who by his own adroit movements contrived to reach the spot where his weapon lay and regained possession of it. Armed with his trusty sword he waited a final spring. The lion came down as before but this time Macer's aim was true. The sword pierced his heart. The enormous beast fell writhing in pain. Rise again to his feet. He ran across the arena and with the last roar he fell dead by the bars of which he had entered. Macer was now led away and the Batavian appeared. The Romans required variety. A small tiger was let loose upon the Batavian and was vanquished. A lion was then set upon him. He was extremely fierce although of only ordinary size. It was evident that the Batavian was not at all equal to Macer. The lion made his spring and was wounded but on making his second attack he caught his opponent and literally tore him to pieces. Upon this Macer was sent out again and killed this lion easily. And now while Macer stood there the recipient of unbounded applause a man entered from the opposite side. It was the African. His arm had not been bound up but hung down by his side covered with blood. He staggered toward Macer with painful steps. The Romans knew that he had been sent out to be killed. The wretch knew it himself also for as he drew near to his antagonist he dropped his sword and cried out in a kind of desperation. Quick kill me and put me out of my pain. To the amazement of all Macer stepped back and flung down his sword. The spectators stared and wondered. Still more amazed were they when Macer turned toward the emperor and stretched out his hands. He cried I am a Christian I will fight wild beasts but I will not raise my hand against a fellow man I can die but I will not kill We're upon a mighty murmur of rose What does he say? Cried Marcellus A Christian. When did that happen? I heard that he was visited in his cell by some of these wretched Christians and joined their contemptible sect. They are made up of the off-scouring of mankind. It is very probable that he is a Christian. And will he incur death rather than fight? That is the way with these fanatics. Rage took the place of surprise in the fierce multitude. They were indignant that a mere gladiator should dare to disappoint them. The attendants rushed out to interfere. The fight must go on. If Macer would not fight the consequences. But he was firm. Unarmed, he advanced toward the African whom he could have slain even then with a blow of his fist. The face of the African was like that of a fiend. Surprise, joy and triumph gleamed in his sinister eyes. Seizing his sword in a firm grasp he struck a message to the heart. Lord Jesus receive my spirit. The words were drowned in the torrent of blood and this humble but bold witness for Christ passed away from earth to join the noble army of martyrs. Are there many such scenes as this? Ask Marcellus. Often, whenever Christians appear they will fight any number of beasts. Young girls will come firmly to meet lions and tigers but not one of the mad men will fight with men. The populace are bitterly disappointed in Macer. He is the very best of all the gladiators and in becoming a Christian he has acted like a fool. It must be a wonderful religion which could make a common gladiator act thus. Said Marcellus. You'll have a chance to learn more about it. How so? Haven't you heard? You are appointed to unearth some of these Christians. They have got down in the catacombs and they must be hunted up. I should think they have enough already. Fifty were burned this morning. And a hundred were beheaded last week and nothing. The city is swarming with them. The emperor has determined to restore the old religion perfectly. Since these Christians have appeared the empire has been declining. He has made up his mind to annihilate them. They are a curse and must be dealt with accordingly. You will soon understand. I haven't been in Rome long enough to know. Said Marcellus. And I do not understand what the Christians really believe. Almost every crime imputed to them. However, if it be as you say, I will have a chance of learning. But now another scene attracted their attention. An old man entered upon the scene. His form was bowed in his hair silver-white with extreme old age. His appearance was hailed with shouts of derision, although his majestic face and dignified manner were only calculated to excite admiration. As the shouts of laughter and yell of derision came down to his ears, his head and uttered a few words. Who was he? Asked Marcellus. Alexander, a teacher of the abominable Christian sect, he is so obstinate that he will not recant, Hush, he is speaking. Romans. Said the old man. I am a Christian. My God died for me and I gladly lay down my life for him. That outburst of yells and execrations from the fierce mob drowned his voice. Before it was over, three panthers came bounding toward him. He folded his arms and, looking up to heaven, his lips moved as if murmuring prayers. The savage beast fell upon him as he stood, and in a few minutes he was torn in pieces. Other wild animals were now let in. They bounded around the enclosure, they leaped against the barrier, and in their rage assailed one another. It was a hideous scene. The prisoners were rudely thrust. There were chiefly young girls who were thus sacrificed to the bloodthirsty passions of the savage Roman mob. The sight would have moved to pity any heart in which all soft feelings had not been blighted. But pity had no place in Rome. Cowering and fearful, the poor young maidens showed the weakness of human nature when just confronted with death in so terrible a form. But after a few moments, they all fell above all fear. As the beast became aware of the presence of their prey and began to draw near, these young maidens joined hands and, raising their eyes to heaven, sang out a solemn chant, which rose clear and wondrously sweet upward to heaven. On to him that loved us, to him that watched us from in his own. To him that made us kings and to him voices were hushed in blood and agony and death. One by one the shrieks of anguish were mingled with the shouts of praise and these very young spirits, so heroic under suffering and faithful unto death, had carried their song to join it with the Psalm of the redeemed on high. End of Chapter 1 Chapter 2 of the Martyr of the Catacombs Author Unknown This is a LibriVox recording. The LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 2 The Praetorian Camp Cornelius the Centurion A Just Man And One That Feared God Marcellus was born in Gades and had been brought up in the stern discipline of a Roman army. He had been courted in Africa, in Syria and in Britain where he had distinguished himself not only by bravery in the field but also by skill in the camp. For these reasons, he had received honors and promotions and upon his arrival at Rome to which place he had come as the bearer of dispatches he had so policed the emperor that he had been appointed to an honorable station among the Praetorians. Lucullus had never been out of Italy, scarcely indeed, out of the city. He belonged to one of the oldest and most noble Roman families and enjoyed corresponding wealth and influence. He was charged by the bold and frank nature of Marcellus and the two young men had become firm friends. The intimate knowledge of the capital which Lucullus possessed enabled him also to be of service to his friend and the scene which has been described in the preceding chapter was one of the first visits which Marcellus had made to the renowned Colosseum. The Praetorian Camp was situated close to the city wall to which it was joined by another wall which enclosed it. The soldiers lived in room like cells made in the wall itself. They were a numerous and finally appointed body of men and their situation at the capital gave them a power and influence so great that for ages they controlled the government of the capital. A command among the Praetorians was a sure road to fortune and Marcellus could look forward with well-grounded prospects of future honors. On the morning of the following day Lucullus entered his room. After the usual salutation he spoke of the fight which they had witnessed. Such scenes are not to my taste. Said Marcellus. They are cowardly. I like to see two well-trained men engage in a fair combat but such butchery as you have in the Colosseum is detestable. Why should Maester be murdered? He was a brave man and I honor his courage. And why should old men and young children be murdered over to wild beasts? It is the law. They are Christians. That is always the answer. What have the Christians done? I have seen them in all parts of the world but have never known them to be engaged in disturbances. They are the worst of mankind. So it is said. But what proof is there? Proof? It is too well known. Their crime is that they plot in secret against the laws and the religion of the state. So intense is the hatred which they bear toward our institution that they will die rather than offer sacrifice. They own no king or monarch but the crucified Jew who they believe is alive now and they show their malevolence to us by asserting that we shall all hereafter be tortured in Hades forever. This may be true. I know not. I know nothing at all about them. The city is swarming with them. The empire is overrun. And mark this. The decline of our empire which all see and lament the spread of weakness and insubordination the contraction of our boundaries. All this increases as the Christians increase. To what else are these evils owing if not to them? How have they produced this? By their detestable teachings and practices. They teach that fighting is wrong. That soldiers are the basest of men. That our glorious religion under which we have prospered is a curse. And that the immortal gods are a curse of demons. In their teachings they aim to overthrow all morality. In their private practices they perform the darkest and foulest crimes. They always keep by themselves an impenetrable secrecy. But sometimes we overhear their evil discourses and lewd songs. All this is indeed serious. And if true, they deserve severe punishment. But according to your own statement they keep by themselves. And but little is known of them. Tell me, did those who suffered yesterday seem like this? Did that old man look as though he had passed his life in vicious scenes? Did those fair young girls sing lewd songs as they awaited for the lions? Unto him that loved us to him that watched us from our sins. And Marcellus sang in a soft voice the words that she had heard. I confess, my friend, that I mourned for them. And I, said Marcellus, could have wept had I not been a Roman soldier. Consider for a moment. You tell me things about these Christians which you confess only to have learned from those who themselves are ignorant. You assert that they are infamous in base and of scouring of the earth. I see them confronted with a death that tries the highest qualities of the soul. They meet it nobly, they die grandly, and all her history Rome can produce no greater scene of devotion than that of yesterday. You are enthusiastic for those outcasts. You say they detest soldiers, yet they are brave. You tell me that they are traitors, yet they do not resist the laws. You declare that they are impure, yet if purity is on earth it belongs to those maidens who died yesterday. You are enthusiastic for those outcasts. Not so, Luculus. I wish to know the truth. All my life I have heard these reports, but yesterday for the first time I suspected that they might be false. Now I question you earnestly and I find that your knowledge is based upon nothing. I now remember that throughout all the world these Christians are peaceable and honest. They are engaged in no riots or disturbances and none of these crimes with which they are charged can be proved against them. Why then, should they die? The Emperor has good reasons, no doubt, for his course. He may be instigated by ignorant or malicious advisers. I think it is entirely his own design. The number of those have been put to death is very large. Oh yes, some thousands, but plenty more remain. These, however, are out of reach and that reminds me of my errand here. The Imperial Commission You do not seem very glad. I confess, the task is unpleasant. I am a soldier and do not like to hunt out old men and weak children for the executioner, yet as a soldier I must obey. Tell me something about these catacombs. The catacombs? It is a subterranean district that extends to unknown bounds underneath the city. The Christians fly to the catacombs whenever there is danger and they also are in the habit of burying their dead there. Once there they are beyond the reach of the utmost power of the state. Who made the catacombs? No one knows exactly. They have existed for ages. I believe that they were excavated for the sake of getting building sand for cement. At present all our cement comes from there and you may see workmen bringing it into the city along any of the great roads. They have to go far away for it now, for in the course of ages they have excavated so much beneath us that this city now rests upon a foundation like a honeycomb. Is there any regular entrance? There are innumerable entrances. That is the difficulty. If there were but few then we might catch the fugitives. But we cannot tell from which direction to advance upon them. Is any districts expected? Yes. About two miles down the Appian Way near the tomb of Cecilia Metella, the large round tower you know bodies have frequently been discovered. It is conjectured that these are the bodies of the Christians which have been obtained from the amphitheater and carried away for burial. On the approach of the guards the Christians have dropped the bodies and fled. But after all this gives no assistance for after you enter the catacombs you are no nearer your aim than before. No human being can penetrate that infinite labyrinth without assistance from those who live there. Who live there? The Fossers who still eat sand for the builders. They are nearly all Christians and are always at work cutting out graves for the dead of the Christians. These men have lived there all their lives and are not only familiar with the passages but they have a kind of instinct to guide them. Were you ever in the catacombs? Once. Long ago a Fosser guided me. I remained but a short time. My impression was that it was the most terrible place in all the world. I have heard of the catacombs but never before knew anything about them. It is strange that they are so little known could not these Fossers be engaged to lead the guards through this labyrinth? No. They will not betray the Christians. Have they been tried? Certainly. Some comply and lead the officers of justice through a network of passages till they get bewildered. Their torches become extinguished inside. Then they ask to be led back. The Fosser declares that the Christians must have fled and so takes back the soldiers to the starting point. Are none resolute enough to continue on till they find the Christians? If they insist upon continuing the search the Fosser will lead them on forever but he merely leads them through the countless passages which intersect some particular district. Are none found to actually betray the fugitives? Sometimes what use is it? Upon the first alarm every Christian vanishes through the sideways which open everywhere. My prospect of success seems small. Very small but much is hoped from your boldness and shrewdness. If you succeed in this enterprise it will be your fortune and now, farewell you have learned from me all that I know you will find no difficulty in learning more from any one of the Fossers. So saying, Lecolas departed, Marsalis leaned his head on his hands and lost himself in thought but ever amid his meditations came floating the strains of that glorious melody which told of triumph over death unto him that loved us to him that washed us from our sins. End of Chapter 2 Chapter 3 of the Martyr of the Catacombs Author Unknown This is a Liberbox recording All Liberbox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit Liberbox.org Chapter 3 The Appian Way Sepulchres in sad array guard the ashes of the mighty slumbering on the Appian way Marsalis entered upon the duty that lay before him without delay Upon the following day he set out upon his investigations It was merely a journey of inquiry so he took no soldiers with him Starting forth from the Victorian barracks he walked out of the city and down the Appian Way This famous road was lined on both sides with magnificent tombs all of which were carefully preserved by the families to whom they belonged Further back from the road lay houses and villas clustered as in the city The open country was a long distance away At length he reached a huge round tower which stood about two miles from the gate It was built with enormous blocks of Travertine and ornamented beautifully yet simply It's severe style and solid construction gave it an air of bold defiance against the ravages of time At this point Marsalis paused and looked back A stranger in Rome every view presented something new and interesting Most remarkable was the long line of tunes There were the last resting places of the great, the noble and the brave of elder days whose epitaphs announced their claims to honor on earth and their dim prospects in the unknown life to come Art and wealth had reared these sumptuous monuments and the pious affection of ages had preserved them from decay Here where he stood was the sublime mausoleum of Sicilian Metella Further away were the tombs of Callitanas and the Servili Still further his eye fell upon the resting place of the Scipios the classic art detection of which was hallowed by the dust of its heroic dwellers The words of Cicero recurred to his mind When you go out of the Porta Cappina the tombs of Callitanas of the Scipios the Servili and the Metelli can you consider that the buried inmates are unhappy There was the arch of Jursus spanning the road On one side was the historic grotto of Ageria and further on the spot where Hannibal once stood and hurled his javelin at the walls of Rome The long lines of tunes went on till in the distance it was terminated by the lofty pyramid and the hall presented the grandest scene of supple-crawl magnificence that could be found on earth On every side the habitations of men covered the ground for the imperial city had long ago burst the bonds that originally confined it and sent its houses far away on every side into the country till the traveler could scarcely tell where the country ended and where the city began From afar the deep hum of the city the role of innumerable chariots and the multitudinous tread of its many feet greeted his ears Before him rose monuments and temples the white sheen of the imperial palace the innumerable domes and columns towering upward like a city in the air and high above all the lofty capitaline mount crowned with the shrine of Job But more impressive than all the splendor of the home of the living was the solemnity of the city of the dead What an array of architectural glory was displayed around him There arose the proud monuments of the grand old families of Rome Heroism, genius valor, pride wealth, everything that man esteems or admires Here animated the eloquent stone and awakened emotion Here were the visible forms of the highest influences of the old pagan religion Yet their effects upon the soul never corresponded with the splendor of their outward forms or the pomp of their ritual The epitaphs of the dead should not fade, but love of life tramph it not the assurance of immortal life but a sad longing after the pleasures of the world Such were the thoughts of Marcellus as he mused upon the scene and again recalled the words of Cicero Can you think that the buried inmates are unhappy? These Christians Thought he Who I am now seeking seem to have learned more than I can find in all our philosophy They not only have conquered the fear of death but have learned to die rejoicing What secret power have they which can thus inspire even the youngest and the feeblest among them What is the hidden meaning of their song My religion can only hope that I may not be unhappy theirs leads them to death with triumphant songs of joy But how was he to prosecute a search after the Christians crowds of people passed by but he saw none who seemed capable of assisting him buildings of all sizes walls, tombs and temples were all around but he saw no place that seemed at all connected with the catacombs He was quite at a loss what to do He went down into the street and walked slowly along carefully scrutinizing every person whom he met and examining closely every building Yet no result was obtained from this beyond the discovery that the outward appearance gave no sign of any connection with subterranean abodes the day passed on and it grew late but Marcelus remembered that there were many entrances to the catacombs and still he continued his search hoping before the close of the day to find some clue At length his search was rewarded He walked backward and forward in an every direction often retracing his steps and returning many times to the place of starting Twilight was coming on and the sun was near the edge of the horizon when his quick eye caught sight of a man who was walking in an opposite direction followed by a boy The man was dressed in coarse apparel stained and damp with sand and earth his complexion was blanched and pallid like that of one who has long been imprisoned and his whole appearance at once arrested the gains of the young soldier He stepped up to him and laying his hand upon his shoulder said You're a foster, come with me The man looked up, he saw a stern face The sight of the officer's dress terrified him In an instant he darted away and before Marcelus could turn to follow he had rushed into a sideline and was out of sight but Marcelus secured the boy Come with me said he The poor lad looked up with such an agony of fear that Marcelus was moved Have mercy for my mother's sake She will die if I am taken The boy fell at his feet murmuring this in broken tones I will not hurt you, come And he led him away toward an open space out of the way of the passersby Now said he stopping and confronting the boy Tell me the truth, who are you My name is Paulio said the boy What are you doing here I was out on an errand A fossil What were you doing with him He was carrying a bundle for me What was in the bundle Provision To whom were you carrying it To a destitute person out here Where does he live Not far from here Now boy, tell me the truth Do you know anything about the catacombs I have heard about them Said the boy quietly Were you ever in them Some people, the fossil stays there You were going to the catacombs then With him What business would I have there at such a time as this Said the boy innocently That is what I want to know Were you going there How would I dare to go there When it is forbidden by the law It is now evening Come with me to the evening service Yet yonder temple The boy hesitated I am in a hurry, said he I never neglect the worship of the gods You must come and assist me at my devotions I cannot Why not I am a Christian And you have friends in the catacombs And you are going there now They are the destitute people To whom you are carrying provisions And the errand on which you are Is for them The boy held down his head and was silent I want you now to take me to the entrance Of the catacombs The soldiers have mercy Do not ask me that I cannot do it You must I will not betray my friends You need not It is nothing to show the entrance among the many thousands That lead down below Do you think that the guards do not know everyone The boy thought for a moment And at length signified his ascent Marcellus took his hand and followed his lead The boy turned away to the right Of the Appian Way Here he came to an uninhabited house He entered And went down into the cellar There was a door which apparently opened into a closet The boy pointed at this And stopped I wish to go down Said Marcellus firmly You would not dare to go down alone Sure would you The Christians say they do not commit murder Why then should I fear Lead on I have no torches I am prepared I cannot I must refuse My friends and my relatives are below Sooner than lead you to them I would die a hundred deaths You are bold You do not know what death is Do I not? What Christian can fear death? I have seen many of my friends die in agony And I have helped bury them I will not lead you there Take me away to prison The boys turned away What will your friends think? Have you a mother? The boy bowed his head and burst into a passion of tears The mention of that dear name had overcome him I see that you have And that you love her Lead me down And you shall join her again I will never betray me I will die first If I had any evil intentions Said Marcellus Do you think I will go down unaccompanied? But what can a soldier Then want with the persecuted Christians If not to destroy them Boy I have no evil intentions If you guide me down below I swear I will not use my knowledge against your friends When I am below I will be a prisoner And they can do with me what they like Do you swear that you will not betray them? I do By the life of Caesar and the immortal gods Said Marcellus solemnly Come along then Said the boy Follow me carefully And the lad entered the narrow opening End of Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Of Martyr of the Catacombs Author Unknown This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 4 The Catacombs No light but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe Regions of sorrow Dualful shades They went on in other darkness Until at length the passage widened And they came to steps which led below Marcellus held the boy's dress And followed him It was certainly a situation That might provoke alarm He was voluntary placing himself In the power of men Whom his class had driven from the upper air Into these dreary boulds To them he could only be known as a persecutor Yet such was the impression Which he had formed of their gentleness And meekness that he had no fear of harm It was in the power of this boy To lead him to death In the thick darkness of these Impenetrable labyrinths But even of this he did not think It was a desire to know more of these Christians To get at their secret That led him on And as he had sworn so had he resolved That this visit should not be made Use of to their betrayal or injury After descending for some time the steps ended And they walked along the level ground Soon they turned and entered A small vaulted chamber which was lighted From the faint glow of a furnace The boy had walked on With the unhesitating step Of one perfectly familiar with the way Arriving at the chamber He lighted a torch which lay on the floor And resumed his journey There is something in the air Of a burial place Which is unlike that of any other place It is not together the closeness Or the damp Or the sickening smell of earth But a certain subtle influence Which unites with them and intensifies them The spell of the dead is there And arrests alike on mind and body Such was the air of the catacombs Hold and damp It struck upon the visitor Like the chill atmosphere from the realms of death The living felt the mysterious Power of the dead The boy polio went on before And Marcellus followed after The torch but faintly illumined The intense darkness No beam of day, no ray however weak Could ever enter here To relieve the thickness of the oppressive gloom It was literally darkness That might be felt The torchlight shone out But a few paces and then Died in the darkness The path went winding on With innumerable turnings Suddenly polio stopped and pointed downward Hearing through the gloom Marcellus saw an opening in the path Which led further down It was a pit to which no bottom appeared Where does this lead to? Below Are there more passages below? Oh yes, as many as there are here And still below that again I've been in three different stories of these paths And some of the old Fossors Say that in certain places Very great death The passage wound along Till all idea of locality Was utterly lost Marcellus could not tell whether he was within a few paces Of the entrance or many furlongs off His bewildered thoughts soon began to turn To other things The first impressions of gloom departed He looked more particularly upon what he passed And regarded more closely The many wonders of this strange place All along the walls were tablets Which appeared to cover Long and narrow excavations These cellular niches were ranged On both sides so closely That but little space was left between The inscriptions that were upon the tablets Showed that they were Christian tombs He had not time to stop and read But he noticed the frequent occurrence Of the same expression such as Honoria, she sleeps in peace Basta, in peace On nearly every tablet He saw the same sweet and gentle word Peace Thought Marcellus What wonderful people Are these Christians Who even amid such scenes as these Can cherish their lofty contempt of death His eyes grew more and more Custom to the gloom as he walked along Now the passageway grew narrower The roof drooped the sides approached They had to stoop and go along more slowly The walls were rough and rudely cut As the workmen left them When they drew along here the last load Of sand for the edifices above Subterranean damps and fungus Grows overspread them in places Deepening their somber color And filling the air with thick moisture While the smoke of the torches made the atmosphere Still more oppressive They passed hundreds of side passages And scores of places where many paths met All branching off in different Directions These innumerable paths showed Marcellus How hopelessly he was now cut off From the world above This boy held his life in his hands Do any ever lose their way? Often What becomes of them? Sometimes they wander till they meet some friends Sometimes they are never heard of again But at present most of us know the place so well That if we lose our way we soon wander Into familiar paths again One thing particularly struck the young soldier And that was the immense preponderance Of these small tombs Polyla told them that they were the graves of children And thus opened to him thoughts and emotions Unfelt before Children What do they hear? The young, the pure, the innocent Why were they not buried above Where the sun might shine kindly And the flowers bloomed sweetly over the graves Did they tread such dark paths as these? On their way through life Did they bear their part in the sufferings of those That lingered here flying from persecution? Did the noxious air And the never-ending gloom Of these drearer bodes Shorten their very young lives And send their stainless spirits Out of life before their time We have been a long time on the way Said Marcellus Will we soon be there? Very soon! Said the boy Whatever ideas Marcellus might have had About hunting out these fugitives before he entered here He now saw that all attempts to do so must be in vain An army of men might enter here And never come inside of the Christians The further they went The more hopeless would be their journey They could be scattered through the innumerable passages And wander about till they died But now a low sound Roles from afar which arrested his attention Sweet beyond all description Low and musical it came down the long passages And broke upon his charm senses Like a voice from the skies As they went on a light beam Before them which cast forth its rays into the darkness The sounds grew louder Now swelling into magnificent chorus Now dying away into a tender wail Of his application In a few minutes they reached a turn in the path And then a scene burst upon their sight Stop Said Paulio arresting his companion And extinguishing the torch Marcellus obeyed And looked earnestly at the spectacle before him It was a vaulted chamber About 15 feet in height and 30 feet square In this place there were crowded about 100 people Men, women and children At one side there was a table Behind which stood a venerable man Who appeared to be the leader among them The walls of the room seemed to have been rudely decorated With coarse pictures The place was illuminated with the glare of torches Which threw a lurid glow upon the assembly The people were care-warm and emaciated And their faces were characterized by the same pallor Which Marcellus had observed in the foster But the expression which now rested upon them Was not of sorrow or misery Or despair Hope illumined them But the expression which now rested upon them Was not of sorrow or misery Or despair Hope illumined their eyes Their upturned faces hook of joy and triumph The scene moved the soul of the beholder To its inmost steps Where it confirmed all that he had seen of the Christians Their heroism, their hope, their peace Which rested on something hidden from him As he listened He heard their song Chanted by the whole congregation Great and motherless are thy works Lord God of all mighty Just and true are thy ways Vow, king of saints We shall not fear thee, O Lord And glorify thy name For thou only art holy For a nation shall come And worship thee for thee For thy judgment's law made manifest Then there was a pause The venerable leader read something from a scroll Which was new to Marcellus It was a sublime assertion of the immortality Of the soul and life after death The congregation seemed to hang upon the words Though they were the words of life Finally the reader came to a burst of joy As exclamation Which drew murmurs of gratitude And enthusiastic hope from the audience The words thrilled upon the heart of the listener Though he did not understand their full meaning O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin And the strength of sin is the law But thanks be to God Who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ These words seemed to open to his mind A new world with new thoughts Sin, death, Christ With all the infinite train of ideas That rested upon them arose dimly Before his awakening soul The desire for the Christian secret Which he had conceived now burned more eagerly within him The leader raised his head And, stretching out his hands Out of deferment prayer Addressing the invisible God He poured forth a confession of sin and guilt He pleaded for pardon through the atoning death of Christ He prayed for the spirit from on high So that they might become holy That he enumerated all their sorrows And prayed for deliverance And for faith in life, victory in death And immortality in heaven For the sake of the Redeemer, Jesus After this followed another chant Which was sung as before Oh, the tabernacle of God is with men And he will dwell with them And they shall be his people And God himself shall be with them Be their God And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes And there shall be no more death Nor sorrow nor sighing Neither shall there be any more pain For the form of things are passed away Amen Blessing and glory and wisdom And thanksgiving and honor And power and might Be unto our God Forever and ever Amen Amen Now the congregation began to disperse Paulio walked forward leading Marcellus At the sight of his marginal figure and glittering armor They all started backward and would have fled by the different paths But Marcellus called in a loud voice Fear not, Christians, I am alone And in your power Upon this they all turned back And looked at him with anxious curiosity The aged man who led the meeting advanced And looked earnestly upon him Who are you? And why do you seek us out In the last resting place that is left to us on earth? Do not suspect me of evil I come alone, unattended I am at your mercy But what can a soldier and a praetorian wish with us? Are you pursued? Are you a criminal? Is your life in danger? No, I am an officer high in rank and authority But I have all my life been seeking anxiously After the truth I have heard much of you Christians But in these times of persecution It is difficult to find you in Rome I have sought you here At this the aged man requested the assembly to withdraw That he might converse with the newcomer The others readily did so And retired by different ways, feeling much relieved A pale lady advanced eagerly to polio And caught him in her arms How long you were, my son? I encountered this officer, dear mother, and was detained Thank God you are safe, but who is he? I think he is an honest man, said the boy Maybe he confides in us Cecilia, said the leader Do not go away for a little time The lady remained, and a few others did the same I am Honorius, said the old man addressing Marcellus A humble elder in the Church of Christ I believe that you are sincere and earnest Tell us now what you want with us My name is Marcellus, and I am a captain In the Praetorian Guard Alas! I am Honorius, and clasping his hands He fell back in his seat The others looked at Marcellus with mournful eyes And the lady Cecilia cried out in an agony of grief Polio, how you have betrayed us! End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of Martyr of the Catacombs Author Unknown This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please Visit LibriVox.org Chapter 5 The Christian Secret The Mystery of Godliness God Manifest in the Flesh The young soldier stood astonished At the effect which his name produced Why do you all tremble so? Said he Is it on my account? Alas! Said Honorius Though we are banished to this place We have constant communication with the city We have heard that new efforts were making To persecute us more severely And that Marcellus, a captain of the Praetorians Had been appointed to search us out We see you here among us, our chief enemy Have we not caused a fear? Why should you track us here? You have no cause to fear me Cried Marcellus Even if I were your worst enemy Am I not in your power? If you choose to detain me Can I escape? If you killed me, could I resist? I am helpless among you My situation here, alone among you Is proof that there is no danger from me True Said Honorius Assuming his calm's a mere You are right You could never return without our assistance Hear me then, and I will explain all to you I am a Roman soldier I was born in Spain And was brought up in virtue and morality I was taught to fear the gods And do my duty I have been in many lands And have confined myself chiefly To my profession Yet, I have never neglected religion In my chamber, I have studied all the writings Of the philosophers of Greece and Rome The result is that I have learned from them To despise our gods and goddesses Who are no better, and even worse than myself From Plato to Cicero I learn that there is one supreme deity Whom it is my duty to obey But how can I know him? And how shall I obey him? I learn too that I am immortal And shall become a spirit when I die How shall I be then? Shall I be happy or miserable? How shall I secure happiness in that spiritual life? They describe the glories of that immortal life In eloquent language But they give no directions For common men like me To learn more of this is a desire of my soul The priests can't tell me nothing They are wedded to old forms and ceremonies In which they do not believe The old religion is dead And men care for it no more In different lands I have heard much of Christians Shut up in the camp I have not had much opportunity to see them Indeed, I never cared to know them until lately I have heard all the usual reports about their immorality Their secret vice Their treasonable doctrines I believed all this until lately A few days ago I was in the Colosseum There first I learned something about the Christians I saw the Gladiator Macer A man to whom fear was utterly unknown They down his life calmly Rather than do what he believed to be wrong I saw an old man meet death With a peaceful smile And above all I saw a band of young girls Give themselves up to the wild beasts With a song of triumph on their lip And to him that loved us That watched us from our sins As Marcellus spoke a wonderful effect was produced The eyes of his listeners glistened with eagerness and joy When he mentioned Macer they loved each other With meaning glances When he spoke of the old man Anorius bowed his head And when he spoke of the children And murmured the words of their song They turned away their faces and wept For the first time in my life I myself can meet death without terror And so can every soldier When he comes in the battlefield It is our profession But these people rejoiced in death Here were not soldiers but children Who carried the same wonderful feeling in their hearts Since then I have thought of nothing else Who is he that loved you? Who is he that washes you from your sins? Who is he that causes the sublime courage And hope to arise within you? What is it that supports you here? Who is he to whom you were just now praying? I have a commission to lead soldiers against you And destroy you But I wish to learn more of you first And I swear by the Supreme That my present visit shall bring no harm to you Tell me then, the Christian secret Your words Said Anorius Are true and sincere Now I know that you are no spy or enemy But an inquiring soul sent here by the spirit To learn that which you have long been seeking Rejoice, for he that cometh unto Christ Shall be in no wise cast out You see before you men and women Who have left friends and home And honor and wealth To live here in want and fear and sorrow And they count all this as nothing for Christ Yes, they count even their own lives nothing They give up all for him who loved them You are right, Marcellus In thinking that there is some great power Which can do all this It is not fanaticism, nor delusion, nor excitement It is the knowledge of the truth And love for the great God What you have sought for all your life Is our dearest possession Treasured up in our hearts It is worth far more to us than all That the world can give It gives us happiness in life Even in this place of gloom And in death it makes us victorious You wish to know the Supreme Being Our religion is his revelation And through this he makes himself known Infinite in greatness and power He is also infinite in love and mercy This religion draws us so closely to him That he is our best friend Our guide, our comfort, our hope, our all Our creator, our redeemer, and our final savior You wish to know of the immortal life Our religion tells of this It shows us that by loving and serving God on earth We shall dwell with him in infinite blessedness in heaven It shows us how to live so as to please him here And it makes us know how we shall praise him hereafter By this we learn that death is no longer a curse But rather a blessing since it becomes But the sure passageway unto happiness unspeakable In the presence of him who loved us Oh then Cried Marcellus If this be so, make known to me this truth For this I have looked for years For this I have prayed to that Supreme Being Of whom I have heard You are the possessor of that which I long to know The end and aim of my life lies here The whole night is before us Do not put me off, but at once tell me all Has God indeed made known all this And have I been ignorant of it? Tears of joy glistened in the eyes of the Christians Anorius murmured a few words of silent thankfulness and prayer After which he drew forth a manuscript Which he handled with tender care Here Said he Beloved youth, is the word of life which came from God Which brings such peace and joy to man In this we can find all that the soul desires In these divine words we learn that which we can find nowhere else And though the mind may brood over it for a lifetime Yet the extent of its glorious truths can never be reached Then Anorius opened the book and began to tell of Jesus He told him of the long succession of prophets Which had heralded his coming Of the chosen people of God who had kept alive the knowledge of the truth for so many ages And of the marvelous works which they had witnessed He spoke of his birth, his childhood, his first appearance, his miracles, his teachings All this he read with a few comments of his own from the sacred manuscript Then he related the treatment which he had received The scorn, contempt, and persecution which hurried him onto his betrayal Finally he read the story of his death on Calvary Upon ourselves the fact of all this was wonderful Light seemed to burst upon his mind The holiness of God which turned with abhorrence from human sin His justice which demand punishment His patience which endured so much His mercy which contrived a way to save his creatures From the ruin which they drew upon themselves His amazing love which brought him down to sacrifice himself for their salvation Oh, we're clear Anorius reached the end of the mournful story of Calvary And came to the cry My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? He was roused by a sob from Marcellus Looking up through the tears which dimmed his own eyes He saw the form of the strong man bowed And his frame quivering with emotion No more, no more now He murmured Let me think of him Him who loved us Who washed us from our sins In his own blood And Marcellus buried his face in his hands Anorius raised his eyes to heaven and prayed The two were alone for the companions had long since departed A light from a lamp and a niche behind Anorius But dimly illumined the scene As they remained in silence for a long time At last, Marcellus raised his head I feel, said he, that I too had it part In causing the death of the Holy One Read on, more of that word of life For my own life hangs upon it Then Anorius read the story of the burial, the resurrection The appearance again to the disciples and the ascension In order to end with this He sought to give peace to the soul of his friend He read to him all the words of Jesus Which invite this sinner and assured him A gracious reception and complete forgiveness It is the word of God Cried Marcellus It is a voice from heaven My heart responds to everything I have heard And I know that it must be eternal truth But how can I be a sharer in these blessings? I am a sinner I seem now to have my eyes cleared of mist I know myself at last Before I thought I was a just and a righteous man But beside the Holy One of whom I have heard I sink down into the dust I see that I am a sinner before him He is atoned for all But how can I be benefited? He will pardon everything, even to the utmost How can he pardon me? Lift up your soul to him and pray for pardon If you ask, you shall receive O then, if I may dare to approach If it be permitted for me to utter a word to him Teach me the words, tell me the way In the dimness of the gloomy vault Insolitude and solemn silence Honorius knelt down And Marcellus bowed himself by his side Then venerable Christian lifted up his soul in prayer Marcellus felt as though his own soul Was being lifted up to the courts of heaven To the presence of the Savior By the power of that fervent and agonizing prayer The word seemed to find an echo in his own soul In his deeper basement he rested his wands upon his companion So that he might present them in a more acceptable manner But finally his own desires grew stronger Hope came to him, timidly, tremblingly Yet still it was hope And his soul grew stronger at her presence At last when honorius ended his feelings burst forth It was the prayer of the publican God, be merciful unto me, a sinner Hours passed on But who can fittingly describe the progress of his soul On its way to its God? Enough that when morning dawned on the earth above A better day had dawned Over the soul of Marcellus in the vaults below His longings were completely satisfied The load was all removed The Christian's secret was his And with rapture unfelt before He could now sing the song of the Christian Unto him that loved us To him that washed us from our sins In his own blood To him be glory and dominion Forever and ever End of chapter 5 Chapter 6 Of the martyr of the catacombs Author unknown This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 6 The Cloud of Witnesses These all guide in faith The new converts soon learned more of the Christians After a brief repose he arose And was joined by Anorius Who offered to show him the nature of the place where they lived Those of me had seen the chapel service Fund but a small part of the dwellers' catacombs Their numbers rose to many thousands And they were scattered throughout its wide extent And little communities Each of which had its own means of communication with the city He walked far on Accompanied by Anorius He was astonished at the numbers of people whom he encountered And though he knew that the Christians were numerous If he had not supposed that so vast a proportion Would have the fortitude to choose a life in the catacombs Nor was he less interested in the dead than in the living As he passed along he read the inscriptions upon their tombs And found them all the same strong faith and lofty hope Faith he loved to read The fallen interest which Anorius took in these pious memorials Made him a congenial guide There Said Anorius Why is a witness of the truth? Marcellus looked where he pointed and read as follows Prometheus, in peace, after many torments A most valiant martyr He lived about thirty-eight years His wife raised this to her dearest husband, the well-deserving These men Said Anorius Show us how Christians ought to die Yonder is another who suffered like Prometheus Paulus was put to death in tortures In order that he might live an eternal bliss And there Said Anorius Is the tomb of a noble lady who showed that fortitude Which Christ can always bestow Even to the weakest of his followers in the hour of need Clementia Tortured, dead, sleeps Will rise We do not die Said Anorius We but sleep And when the last trump shall sound We shall awake to be forever with the Lord Here He continued Lies Constance, doubly constant to his God By a double trial Poison was given him first But it was powerless over him So he was put to the sword The deadly draft Dared not present to Constance The crowd which the steel was permitted to offer Thus they walked along Reading the inscriptions which appeared on every side New feelings came to Marcellus As he read the glorious catalog of names It was to him a history of the Church of Christ Here were the acts of the Mars Portrayed before him in words that burned The rude pictures that adorned many of the tombs Carried with them a pathos But the finest works of the skillful artist Could not produce The rudely carved letters, the bad spelling And grammatical errors That characterized many of them Gave a touching proof Of the treasure of the gospel To the poor and lonely Not many wise Not many mighty are called To the poor the gospel is preached On many of them there was a monogram Which was formed of the initial letters Of the name of Christ X and P being joined So as to form one cypher Some bore a palm-wrench The emblem of victory and immortality The token of that palm of glory Which shall hear after wave In the hands of the innumerable throng That are to stand around the throng Others bore other devices What is this? Said Marcellus pointing to a picture of a ship It shows that the redeemed spirit Has sailed from earth to the haven of rest And what is the meaning of this fish That I see represented so often? The fish is used because the letters That form its name in Greek are the initials Of words that express the glory And hope for the Christian Iota stands for Jesus Kai for Christ Theta and Gamma for son of God And Sigma for savior So that the fish symbolizes under its name Iota, Kai, Theta, Gamma, Sigma Jesus Christ, the son of God, the savior What means this picture that I see so often? A ship and a huge sea monster That is Jonah, a prophet of God Of whom as yet you are ignorant Honorius then related the story of Jonah And showed him how the escape From the bowels of the fish Reminded the Christian of his deliverance From the darkness of the tomb This glorious hope of the resurrection Is an unspeakable comfort Said he And we love to bring it to our thoughts By different symbols, there too Is another symbol of the same blessed truth The dove carrying an olive branch to Noah He related to his companion the story of the flood So that Marcellus might see the meaning Of a representation But of all these symbols which are used Said he None as so clear as this And he pointed to a picture Of the resurrection of Lazarus There too Is an anchor, the sign of hope By which the Christians, while tossing Amid the stormy billows of life Holds on to his heavenly home There you see the cock, the symbol For watchfulness, for our Lord has said Watch and pray, there is also the lamb The type of innocence and gentleness Which also brings to our mind The lamb of God, who bore our sins And by whose sacrifice we receive pardon There again is the dove, which Like the lamb represents innocence And yet again you see it Bearing the olive branch of peace There are the letters alpha and omega Which represents our Lord For you know that he said I am alpha and omega And there is the crown Which reminds of that crown of immortality Which the Lord, the righteous judge Shall give us Thus we love to surround ourselves With all that can remind us Of the joy that lies before us Taught by these we look up From the surrounding gloom And see above us the light Of immortal life Here, said Marcellus, pausing Is something that seems adapted to my condition It sounds prophetic, perhaps I too may be called upon To give my testimony for Christ May I then be found faithful In Christ in the time of the Emperor Adrian Marius, a young military officer Who lived long enough as he shed his blood For Christ and died in peace His friend set up this with tears and in fear In this world ye shall have tribulation But be a good cheer I have overcome the world Thus Christ assures us But while he warns us of evil He consoles us with his promise of support In him we can find grace sufficient for us May the example of this young officer be for me Said Marcellus May I shed my blood for Christ like him May I die as faithfully To lie here among my brethren With such an epitaph I should be higher honour for me than a mausoleum Like that of Cecilia and Metella They walked on as before How sweet Said Marcellus Is the death of the Christian Its horror has fled To him it is a blessed sleep And death Instead of awakening terror Is associated with thoughts of rest Or a victory The sleeping place of Elbis Zodacus laid here to sleep Acelus sleeps in Christ Materia in peace Videlia in the peace of Christ Nisophorus, a sweet soul In the place of refreshment Some of those inscriptions tell of the characters Of the departed brethren Sedanorius Look at these Maximius, who lived 23 years Friend of all men In Christ, on the fifth callons Of November slept Gorgonius Friend of all and enemy to none And here too He continued Are others which tell of their private lives And domestic experiences Cecilia is the husband To Cecilia Placidina, my wife Of excellent memory With whom I lived 10 years without any quarrel In Jesus Christ, son of God, the savior Sacred to Christ, the supreme God Vitalis, buried on Saturday Callons of August, aged 25 years and 8 months She lived with her husband 10 years and 30 days In Christ, the first and the last To Domina, my sweetest and most innocent wife Who lived 16 years and 4 months And was married 2 years, 4 months, and 9 days With whom I was not able to live On account of my travelling more than 6 months During which time I showed her my love As I felt it None also loved each other Buried on the 15th before the callons of June To Claudius, the well-deserving And affectionate, who loved me He lived about 25 years in Christ There is the tribute of a loving father Said Marcelus as he read the following Lawrence to his sweetest son Severus Born away by angels on the 7th Ides of January And here of a wife Domigius in peace, Lea erected this Yes Sedonarius The religion of Jesus Christ Changes the nature of man And while it awakens within him Love to God, it makes him susceptible Of more tender affection to his friends And relatives Passing on they found many epitaphs Which exhibited this tender love To their hearted relatives Constancia, a wonderful beauty And aim and capability Who lived 18 years, 6 months, and 16 days Constancia in peace Simplicius, of good and happy memory Who lived 23 years and 43 days In peace His brother made this monument To Azteur our son Dear, sweet, most innocent, and incomparable Who lived 17 years, 6 months, and 8 days His father and mother set up this To Januarius, sweet and good son Honored and beloved by all Who lived 23 years, 5 months, and 22 days His parents, Laurinia Sweeter than honey, sleeps in peace To the holy soul, innocence Who lived about 3 years To Missianus, an innocent soul Sleeps in peace Farewell, O Sabina She lived 8 years, 8 months, and 22 days May us thou live sweet in God In Christ Died on the callons of September Pompeon is the innocent Who lived 6 years, 9 months, 8 days, and 4 hours He sleeps in peace To their deserving son, Calpurnius His parents made this He lived 5 years, 8 months, and 10 days And departed in peace on the 13th of June Unto the epitaph of this child Said Marcellus They have added the symbols of peace and of glory He pointed to a child's tomb Upon the slab of which was engraved a dove And a laurel crown, together with the following inscription Respectus, who lived 5 years and 8 months Sleeps in peace In this one Continued Marcellus Has a palm branch, the symbol of victory Yes Said Honorius The Saviour has said, suffer little children to come unto me And he read the following inscription Marcus, an innocent boy You have already begun to be among the innocent ones How adoring is such a life to you How gladly will your mother The Church of God receive you Returning to this world Let us restrain our groans and cease from weeping Their attention was also attracted by epitaphs Over the graves of women who had been wise Of Christian ministers My wife, Lorencia, made me this tomb She was ever suited to my disposition Venerable and faithful At length disappointed, envy lies crushed The bishop Leo survived his 80th year The place of Basil the Presbyter Is felicitous They made it for themselves Once the happy daughter of the Presbyter Here lies Susanna, joined with her father in peace Claudius Etisianus, Elector And Claudius Felicima, his wife I see here Said Marcellus A laryngeal tomb Are two buried here Yes, this is a bicellium And two occupy that cell Read the inscription The bicellum of Sabines He made it for himself during his lifetime In the cemetery of Balbina in the new crypt Sometimes Continued on aureus Three are buried in the same grave In other places, Marcellus, you will see That large numbers are buried For when persecution rages, it is not always possible To pay each individual the separate attention That is required Yonder as a tablet marks the burial place Of many martyrs whose names are unknown But whose memories are blessed He pointed to a slab bearing the following inscription Marcella and 550 martyrs of Christ Here is a longer one Said Marcellus And its words may well find an echo In the hearts of all of us With deep emotion they read the following In Christ, Alexander is not dead But lives above the stars And his body rests in this tomb He ended his life under the emperor Antonin Who, although he might have foreseen That great benefit we resolve from his services Rendered unto him hatred instead of favor For while on his knees and about to sacrifice Under the true God, he was led away to execution O sad times In which even among sacred brights and prayers Not even in caverns could we be safe What can be more wretched than such a life And what than such a death Where they cannot be buried by their friends and relations At length they sparkle in heaven He has scarcely lived Who has lived in Christian times This Said Honorius Is the resting place of a well-loved brother Whose memory is still cherished in all the churches Around this tomb we shall hold the agape Upon the anniversary of his birthday At this feast the barriers of different classes And ranks of different kindreds And tribes and tongues and peoples Are all broken down We are all brethren in Christ Jesus For we remember that as Christ loved us So ought we also to love one another In this walk, Marcellus had ample opportunity To witness the presence of that fraternal love To which Honorius alluded He encountered men, women and children Of every rank and of every age Men who had felt the highest stations in Rome Associated in friendly intercourse With those who were scarcely above the level of slaves Those who had once been cruel And relentless persecutors Now associated in pleasant union With the former objects of their hate The Jewish priests, released from the fetters Of bigotry and stubborn pride Walked hand in hand with the once hated Gentile The Greek had beheld the foolishness of the gospel Transformed into infinite wisdom And the contempt which he had once felt For the followers of Jesus Had given place to tender affection Selfishness and ambition, haughtiness and envy All the baser passions of human life Seemed to have fled before the almighty Power of Christian love The religion of Christ dwelt in their hearts In all its formless And its blessed influences were seen here As they might not be witness elsewhere Not because its nature or its power Had been changed for their sakes But because the universal persecution Which pressed them all alike Had robbed them of earthly possessions Cut them off from earthly temptations And by the great sympathy Of common suffering Had forced them closer to one another The worship of the true God Set on where he is Differs in one respect from all false worship The heathen must enter into his temple And there, through the medium of the priest Offer up his prayers and his sacrifice But for us, Christ has made a sacrifice once for all Each one of his followers Can now approach God for himself For each one is made, through Jesus A king and a priest unto God To us, then, it is a matter of no moment As far as worship is concerned Whether our chapels are left unto us Or whether we are banished from them Out of the sight of earth Heaven is the throne of God And the universe is his temple And each one of his children Can lift up his voice from any place At any time to worship the Father Marcel's journey extended for a long time And for a great distance For Paris he was to find a great extent He was still astonished at its vastness The heath had not been told him And though he had traversed so much He was told that this was but a fraction of the whole extent The average height of the passageways was about 8 feet But in many places it rose to 12 or 15 feet And the frequent chapels and rooms Which had been formed by widening the arches Gave greater space to the inhabitants And made it possible for them to live and move In greater freedom In some places also, there were narrow openings In the roof through which faint rays of light Passed from the upper air These were chosen as places for resort But not for living The presence of the blessed light of day However faint was pleasant beyond expression And served in some slight degree To mitigate the surrounding gloom Marcel had saw some places Which had been walled up Forming a sudden termination to the passageway But other paths branched off And encircled them and went on as before What is this place Which is thus enclosed? He asked It is a Roman tomb Sed Honorius On excavating this passage The workmen struck upon it So they stopped and walled up the place And carried on their excavation around it It was not from fear of disturbing the tomb But because in death No less than in life The Christian desires to follow the command of his Lord And come out from among them And be separate Persecution rages around us And shuts us in Said Marcelus How long shall the people of God be scattered? How long shall the enemy distress us? Such are the cries of many among us Sed Honorius But it is wrong to complain The Lord has been good to his people Throughout the empire they have gone on For many generations protected by the laws And unmolested True, we have had terrible persecutions In which thousands have died in agony But these again have passed away And left the church in peace All the persecutions which we have yet received Have served only to purify the hearts of the people of God And exalt their faith He knows what is best for us We are in his hands And he will give us no more than we can bear Let us be sober and watch and pray, O Marcelus For the present storm tells us plainly That the great and terrible day So long expected is at hand Thus Marcelus walked about with Honorius Conversing and learning new things every hour About the doctrines of God's troops And the experiences of his people The sight of their love, their purity, their fortitude Their faith sink deeply into his soul The experience which he too had felt was not transient Every new sight but strengthened his desire To unite himself with the faith and fortunes Of the people of God Accordingly, before the following Lord's day He was baptized in the name of the Father And the Son and the Holy Ghost On the morning of the Lord's day He sat around the table of the Lord In company with other Christians There they held that simple and affecting ceremony By which the Christians showed forth the death of Jesus Honorius offered up the prayer for blessing On the repast And for the first time Marcelus partook of the wine And the bread, the sacred symbols Of the body and blood of his dying Lord And when they answered him, they went out End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Of the martyr of the Catacombs Author unknown This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer, please Visit LibriVox.org Chapter 7 The Confession of Faith Yay! And all that will live godly in Christ Jesus Shall suffer persecution Four days had elapsed Since the young soldier had left his chamber Eventful days they had been to him Days full of infinite importance Endless wheel or woe had hung upon their issue But the search of this earnest soul After the truth had not been in vain His resolution had been taken On the one side lay fame, honor, and wealth On the other poverty, want, and woe If he had made his choice And turned to the latter without a moment's hesitation He chose rather to suffer affliction with the people of God Than to enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season Upon his return, he visited the general and reported himself He informed him that he had been among the Christians That he could not execute his commission And was willing to take the consequences The general sternly ordered him to his quarters Here in the midst of deep meditation While convecturing what might be the issue of all this He was interrupted by the entrance of Lecolas His friend greeted him most affectionately But was evidently full of anxiety I have just seen the general Said he Who sent for me to give a message for you But first tell me what is this that you have done? Marcellus then related everything From the time he had left until his return Concealing nothing, whatever His deep earnestness showed how strong and true The impression was that had been made upon him He then related his interview with his general I entered the room feeling the importance Of the step I was taking I was about to commit an act of virtual treason A crime which can only be punished with death Yet I could do nothing else He received me graciously For he thought that I had met with some import And success in my search I told him that since I left I had been among the Christians And from what I had seen of them I had been forced to change my feelings toward them I had thought that they were enemies Of the state and worthy of death But I found that they were loyal subjects To the emperor and virtuous men I could never use my sword against such as these And rather than do so, I would give it up A soldier's feelings said he Have no right to interfere with his duties But my duties to the God Who made me are stronger than any which I owe to the man Has your sympathy with the Christians made you mad? Said he Do you not know that this is treason? I bowed And said that I would take the consequences Rash, youth He cried sternly Go to your quarters And I will communicate to you my decision And so I came here at once And have been here ever since then Anxiously awaiting my sentence Lecoules had listened to the whole Of Marcellus' recital Without a word or even a gesture An expression of sad surprise Upon his face told what his feelings were He spoke in a mournful tone As Marcellus ended And what that sentence must be You certainly know as well as I Roman discipline, even in ordinary times Can never be trifled with But now the feelings of the government Are excited to an unusual degree Against these Christians If you persist in your present course You must fall I have told you all my reasons I know, Marcellus, your pure and sincere nature You have always been of a devout mind You have loved the noble teachings of philosophy Can you not satisfy yourself with these as before? Why should you be attracted by the wretched doctrine Of a crucified Jew? I have never been satisfied with the philosophy Of which you speak You yourself know that there is nothing certain in it On which the soul may trust But the Christian religion is the truth of God Brought down by himself and sanctified By his own death You have thoroughly explained the whole Christian creed to me Your own enthusiasm has made it appear attractive I will confess And if all its followers were really like yourself My dear Marcellus It might be adapted to bless the world But I come not here to argue upon religion I come to speak about yourself You are in danger, my dear friend Your station, your honor, your office Your very life is at stake Consider what you have done An important commission was entrusted to you Upon the execution of which you set out It was expected that you would return Bringing important information But instead of this you come back And inform the general That you have gone over to the enemy That you are one of them in heart And that you refuse to bear arms against them If the soldier is free To choose whom he will fight What becomes of discipline He must obey orders Am I right? You are, Luculus The question for you to decide Is not whether you will choose Philosophy or Christianity But whether you will be a Christian Or a soldier For as the times are now You see that it is impossible For you to be a soldier And a Christian at the same time One of the two must be given up And not only so But if you decide upon being a Christian Share their fate For no distinction can be made In favour of you On the other hand If you continue a soldier You must fight against the Christians That is no doubt the question You have warm friends Who are willing to forget Your great offence, Marcellus I know your enthusiastic nature And I have pleaded with the general For you He too respects you For your soldierly qualities He is willing to forgive you In certain circumstances What are they? The most merciful of all conditions Let the past four days be forgotten Banish them from your memory Resume your commission Take your soldiers and go at once About your duty in arresting These Christians Luculus Said Marcellus Rising from his seat with folded arms I love you as a friend I am grateful for your faithful affection Never can I forget it But I have that within me To which you are a stranger Which is stronger than all honours of state It is the love of God For this I am ready To give up all honour, rank, and life itself My decision is irrevocable I am a Christian For a moment, Luculus sat in astonishment And grieved looking at his friend He was well acquainted with his resolute soul And saw with pain how completely His persuasions had failed At length he spoke again He used every argument he could think of He brought forward every motive that might influence him He told him of the terrible fate that awaited him And the peculiar vengeance that would be directed against him But all his words were completely useless At length he rose in deep sadness Marcellus He said You tempt fate You are rushing madly upon a terrible destiny Everything that fortune can bestow is before you But you turn away from all to cast your lot Among wretched outcasts I have done the duty of a friend In trying to turn you from your folly But all that I can do is of no avail I have brought you the sentence of the general You are degraded from office You are put under arrest as a Christian Tomorrow you will be seized And handed over to punishment But many hours are yet before you And I may still have the mournful satisfaction Of assisting you to escape Fly then at once Hasten, for there is no time to lose There is only one place in the world Where you can be secure from the vengeance of Caesar Marcellus heard in silence Slowly he took off his splendid arms And laid them down Sadly he unfastened his gorgeous armor Which he had worn so proudly He stood in his simple tunic before his friend Luculus, again I say That I can never forget your faithful friendship Would we were flying together That your prayers may ascend with mine To him who I serve But enough I will go farewell Farewell, Marcellus We may never meet in life again If you are ever in want or peril You know on whom you can rely The two young men embraced And Marcellus hastily took his departure He walked out of the camp and onward Until he reached the forum All around him were stately marble temples In columns and monuments There the Arch of Titus Spanned the Via Sacra There the Imperial Palace Read a gigantic forum on high Rich in stately architecture In glorious adornments of precious marbles And glowing in golden decorations On one side the lofty walls Of the Colosseum arose Beyond the stupendous dome Of the Temple of Peace And on the other the Capitoline Hill Upraised its historic summit Crowned with a cluster of stately temples That stood out in sharp relief Against the sky To this he directed his steps And ascended the steep declivity Up to the top of the hill From the summit he looked Around upon the scene The place itself was a spacious square Paved with marble and surrounded With lordly temples On one side was the campus Marcius Far onward to the Mediterranean On every other side was the city's spread Its unequaled extent Crouting to the narrow walls And overleaping them to throw out Its radiating streets Far away on every side into the country Temples and columns and monuments Rear the lofty heads Enumerable statues filled the streets With the population of sculptured forms Fountains dashed into the air Chariots rolled through the streets The legions of Rome All in military array And on every side surged The restless tide of life In the imperial city Far away the plain extended Daughtered with countless villages And houses and palaces Rich and luxuriant fordure The dwelling place of peace and plenty On one side arose the blue outline Of the Apennines Crowned with snow On the other the dark waves Of the Mediterranean Wash the far distant shore Returned An old man in scant clothing With emaciated face and frenzied gesticulation Shouting out a strain of fearful denunciation His wild glance and fierce manner Showed that she was partly insane Babylon the Great has fallen Has fallen and has become The habitation of devils And the hold of every foul spirit And a cage of every unclean and hateful bird For God hath remembered her iniquities Reward her even as she rewarded you And double unto her, double according to her words How much hath she glorified herself And lived deliciously Therefore shall her plagues come in one day Death then mourning and famine And she shall be utterly burned with fire For strong is the Lord who judgeeth her The king of the earth shall be well in lament Seeing the smoke of her burning Standing afar off for fear of her torment Crying alas, alas that great city Babylon That mighty city Babylon For in one hour is thy judgment come The merchants of the earth standing afar off For fear of her torment shall weep and wail Crying alas, alas that great city Babylon That was clothed in fine linen and purple And scarlet in decked with gold And precious stones and pearls For in one hour so great riches is come to not And every shipmaster and the company and ships And sailors and traders by sea shall cry When they see the smoke of her burning Standing afar off for fear of her torment What city is like unto that great city And casting dust on their head they shall cry Weeping and wailing alas, alas that great city Wherein we made rich all that had ships at sea For in one hour she is brought to not Rejoice over her in thou heaven And ye holy apostles and prophets For God hath avenged you on her A vast crowd collected around him in amazement But scarcely had he ceased when some soldiers appeared And led him away Doubtless, it is some poor Christian whose brain Has been turned by suffering Thou, Marcellus, as the man was led away He still shuddered out his terrific denunciations And a great crowd followed, yelling and deriding Soon the noise died away in the distance There is no time to lose, I must go Said Marcellus, and he turned away End of chapter 7