by F. W. Farrar
CHAPTER LXIV
_AT THE THREE FOUNTAINS_
‘For out of prison he cometh to reign.’--ECCL. iv. 14.
‘Lieblich wie der Iris Farbenfeuer Auf der Donnerwolke duft’gem Thau Schlimmert durch der Wehmuth düstern Schleier Hier der Ruhe heitres Blau.’--SCHILLER.
After his first defence, the Apostle Paul had lived on in his narrowprison, indomitably cheerful though death stood almost visiblybeside him. Himself undaunted, he strove to kindle the same faithand courage in those whom he loved. He had heard that Timothy wassad and despondent, and had not got over the grief of being separatedfrom him. The Apostle had a deep human yearning to see once againthe dear companion of his earlier conflicts. He wrote to him thebeautiful, pathetic letter which contains for us his last words. Heexhorted him to strenuous cheerfulness, and urged him to face theshame of the Gospel at Rome, and to come and share his sufferings.‘Come, my child’--such was the burden of his message--‘come beforewinter; come quickly; come, or it will be too late.’ And when hecomes let him send to Carpus at Troas for the large cloak which Paulhad left at his house in the hurry and tumult of his arrest, and thebooks, especially the parchments. It is often cold in his prison,and that old ‘dreadnought,’ which he had woven with his own hands outof the black goat’s-hair of his native province, old as it was, andoften whitened with the dust of the long Roman roads, and drenchedin the water-torrents of the Taurus, and stained with the brine ofAdria, would yet be a comfort to him as he sat on the rocky floor.And the papyrus books and the parchments--few and worn as theywere--would help to while away the monotonous hours, and were verydear to him. With some of them he had been familiar ever since hewas a happy boy in the dear old Tarsian home. So when Timothy comesto shed the last rays of life’s sunshine on Paul’s prison, lethim bring the old cloak and the books--poor inventory of a saint’spossessions after unequalled labours for mankind! And let him, ifpossible, bring Mark the Evangelist with him; for Peter, with whomMark had travelled, had now sealed his testimony by martyrdom, andMark’s knowledge of Latin might be serviceable, and his personaltendence would be very dear. The immediate danger of arrest wouldnot be great, for the rage of the informers had now been gluttedto repletion, and the State and the Emperor had more than enough tooccupy their thoughts. Pudens and Claudia had written to him with allaffection from their British home, and had sent to minister to hisnecessities. He gives to Timothy the greetings which they had sentsupposing him to be at Rome. Linus had also sent greetings, in aletter dictated from his bed of death. As for himself, he was morethan ready to die. He had finished his course; he had kept the faith;henceforth there was laid up for him the crown of righteousness.Thinking, perhaps, how Pætus Thrasea and Seneca had sprinkled theirblood as a libation to Jupiter the Liberator, he wrote the strikingwords, ‘I am being already poured out in libation, and the time ofmy setting sail is close at hand.’ Was he heavy at the thought? Notso. He quotes a fragment of a fine early Christian hymn which hadconsoled many a martyrdom:--
‘If we died, we shall also live with Him; If we endure, we shall also reign with Him; If we deny Him, He will deny us. If we are faithless, He abideth faithful. He is not able to deny Himself.’
And thus the old man’s soul was joyful in the Lord.
Did Mark, did Timothy come to him
‘Before the white sail of his soul had rounded The misty cape, the promontory Death’?
Mark was at Alexandria, and Timothy did not see him. The Lycaonianhastened to Rome the moment he had received Paul’s letter, but hecame too late--came to be himself imprisoned, though happily onlyfor a time. The Apostle was not mistaken in saying that his death wasimminent. During Nero’s absence in Greece he had been summoned beforethe two wretched freedmen, Helius and Polycletus, on the secondground of his indictment--that he was a Christian, and therefore thepreacher of a forbidden religion. That cause needed no trial. Theaccused not only confessed, but gloried in the accusation. Defence,therefore, was superfluous, since no apology for Christianity couldalter the now established law that its practice was prohibited onpain of death. He would have been put to death at once, but Nero ina letter from Greece had expressed some wish to see him, and to askhim some further questions about the Christians before he attachedhis sign manual to the order of execution.
The truth was that Nero was half mad with anxiety, and as all magicincantations had failed to give him the least inkling of the future,he desired to learn something from the Christians. Among the slavesin the Palace who had been denounced as Christians by the informers,Herodion only had been spared, not only because of his age andblameless fidelity, but also because, in a household where the buzzof incessant gossip made it impossible to keep anything secret, ithad been generally rumoured that he possessed the gift of prophecy.Nero therefore summoned Herodion into his presence. But Herodionrefused to speak, and Nero, in a transport of fury, unsheathed hisdagger, and held it over the poor old slave with his uplifted hand.But Herodion’s countenance did not blench, and he said with perfectcalmness--
‘O Cæsar, thou canst not kill me if thou wilt.’
‘How? _canst_ not?’ said the Emperor, stooping to pick up the dagger,which had dropped from his astonished grasp. ‘_Canst_ not? One step,one thrust, and thou art a dead man.’
‘Canst not,’ said Herodion, with unmoved serenity. ‘I shall die,indeed, but it is not thus, nor by thy hand, that I shall die.’
‘Lead him off to death,’ said Nero. ‘These fanatics are inexplicable.’
But his yearning to divine the future was only intensified, andSimon Magus persuaded him that he might learn it from the imprisonedApostle, whom he represented as a powerful sorcerer.
Once more, therefore, the Apostle stood face to face with theEmperor, on one of the troubled tumultuous days which followed hishasty return from Naples, after he had received the news of therevolt of Vindex. It was an interview, not a judicial audience.The Emperor saw him in private, with no one about him except a fewtrusted freedmen, and one favourite slave, named Patroclus. Severalamulets lay scattered round him to avert magic and the evil eye. Forform’s sake he first asked the Apostle about the crimes with whichChristians were charged, and heard once more the proofs of theirrighteousness, loyalty, and holiness. Then he offered Paul hisfreedom and pardon if he would reveal to him the future. Onesimus,who had been allowed to attend the Apostle, and who stood at the farend of the apartment among a group of slaves, used to say afterwardsthat if the Apostle would only have spoken a word of hope, or evensome ambiguous promise which might be interpreted in almost any way,the chains would have been struck off his hands. But he answered thatthe secrets of the future were in the hands of God alone, and thathe had no commission to reveal them. Nero was scanning his featureswith intense anxiety, and as the Apostle fixed on him his earnest,undaunted, pitying gaze, the Emperor--more than ever convinced thathe could prophesy the unknown--told all the slaves except Phaon andPatroclus to withdraw. But Paul, weak with long imprisonment, andscarcely able to stand, begged that he might support his weary frameon the shoulder of Onesimus. Otherwise they were alone. The Emperor,who had no dignity at that hour of calamity, appealed to hisprisoner. ‘They tell me,’ he said, ‘that thy God, or thy Chrestus,_does_ enable thee to foretell events to come. I am in danger. Thelegions are revolting against me on all sides. The astrologers havepromised me that I shall be King of Jerusalem. All is uncertain. See,I appeal to thee. I, the Emperor, ask thee, the doomed and wretchedJew, to tell me what will happen. Will Vindex conquer? Will Galbaconquer? Will the guards be faithful? Shall I be murdered? Answer methese questions, and I will spare thy life, and send thee away withrich rewards.’
‘I answer,’ said the Apostle, ‘as a Prophet of the East answereda king before. If Nero should give me his house full of silver andgold, yet cannot I go beyond the word of the Lord; and the Lord hasnot bidden me to speak to thee. And what were wealth, and what wereall the Empire to me? Thinkest thou, O Emperor, that I fear deat
h?To us Christians to die is to depart and to be with Christ, which isfar better; and Christ hath conquered death.’
‘Wilt thou not even tell me whether I shall be killed? I adjure theeby thy Christ, or thy Iao, or whatever thou holdest most sacred, tellme!’
The Emperor was trembling and weeping.
Another might have scorned his unmanliness, or rejoiced withmalignant triumph over the disgrace of the enemy of all the good.But Paul knew too much of human weakness to indulge in scorn. He feltfor him a sincere, a trembling, a yearning pity. He uplifted his eyesto heaven, paused for a moment, during which the Emperor’s eager andalmost imploring gaze was fixed upon his face, and then solemnlyreplied--
‘Set thine house in order, for thou shalt die and not live.’
‘Tell me more,’ said Nero passionately.
‘I may not tell thee more. Only,’ he continued, raising his chainedhand, ‘I say to thee, repent! Repent of thy life of crime and infamy!Repent of thy many murders--the murder of thy brother, the murder ofthy mother, of--’
‘Accursed Jew, darest thou revile me?’ said Nero, leaping up from hisgilded chair, his face burning with fury.
The Apostle remained unmoved. Onesimus told afterwards that he hadnot felt the tremor of a single muscle as the storm of the Emperor’srage burst over him. Nero stood amazed--his wrath stilled before somajestic an indifference.
‘Tell me more,’ he said again, in a voice of entreaty.
‘Think, rather,’ said the Apostle, ‘that thy hour of judgment is nighat hand--yea, it standeth at the door. The blood of the innocent,slain by thee, cries against thee from the ground. I pity thee--Paulthe prisoner, Paul the aged, pities thee, and he will pray for theeif haply the thoughts of thy heart, and the shames of thy wickedness,may be forgiven.’
‘Dismiss this man,’ whispered Phaon to the Emperor, impatiently.‘He is a Jew, evidently half insane with dreamings in prison. Wereit otherwise, I would here and now chastise his insolence.’
‘Nay,’ said the boy Patroclus, in a voice of deep emotion. ‘Ratherlisten to him. O Nero, I will confess to thee that I have talked toActe; I have talked to Christian slaves--once my fellow-slaves--inthy Palace and the household of Narcissus, and I know that thegods--or that God, if (as they say) there be but one God--is withthem. Dismiss Paulus, I entreat thee; set him free. He tells thetruth.’ And with these words the young cupbearer flung himself onhis knees with a gesture of appeal.[120]
Nero had been startled--almost moved--by the solemn tones andinspired aspect of the Apostle; but the appeal of Patroclus and hismention of Acte produced a different effect from what the youth hadintended. The Emperor was jealous that such potent influences shouldhave been at work in his own Palace; that in spite of his persecutionof the Saints, in spite of his having made Christianity an illegalreligion, those who had been so near to his own person as Acte andPatroclus should reject his divinity, and own Jesus as their king.
‘Thou art bewitched,’ he said to Patroclus, rudely pushing the boyaside.
And, unhappily, at that moment Gaditanian strains, accompanied by thewords of a gay song, reached his ear from an adjoining room in whichsome of his light companions and favourites were sitting. The soundawoke all his heartless and incurable frivolity. Bursting into aforced laugh, he said, ‘I see there is no more to be got out ofthis Jew. Take him hence,’ he said to the Prætorian in attendance,‘and see that he be led to death as soon as the day shall dawn.’
‘He is a Roman citizen,’ said the centurion.
‘Yes,’ said the Emperor. ‘He has been tried and condemned. I willhere countersign the condemnation which orders him to be beheaded.’
* * * * *
The Apostle spent that last night on earth in sleep as sweet as thatof an innocent child. He rose in the morning smiling and refreshed,and Onesimus was early at the prison to help him in all his lastarrangements and preparations. As the soldiers would allow Onesimus,and no one else, to accompany him, he bade an affecting farewellto Luke, who had been for so long a time his beloved physician, andstarted on his way.
His doom was secret and sudden. At that early morning hour thecenturion and soldiers were not likely to be troubled with manyspectators. One or two humble Christians from the poorest haunts ofthe Trastevere would fain have followed, but the soldiers, who werein savage humour from the perilous uncertainty of the times, sufferednone of them to attach themselves to the little procession. Hence thedeath of the Apostle was so lonely and obscure that scarcely a breathof tradition survived to commemorate it to posterity. An ordinaryfaith might have been overwhelmed by the apparent utterness offailure which had crowned that life of unparalleled exertions forthe cause of Christ and for the good of man. Deserted, abandoned, apauper, a prisoner--the founder, indeed, of Churches, but of Churchessome of which were already the prey of Judaisers and of alienheretics, and were cold to him--in the capital of the world, wherehe seemed to be but an insignificant atom, and where Jew and Paganwere united in irreconcilable hostility to the faith which he hadpreached--deserted by all them of Asia--no one with him but the pooremancipated slave--yet he was in no sense disillusioned, nor did hisfaith fail. It did not trouble him that the curtain was about to fallin darkness on one of the noblest and greatest of all human lives.That life seemed to him but as the life of a great sinner whom Godhad forgiven, whom Christ had saved. The winter of his trials waspast, the eternal spring of the resurrection was breathing throughthe air its heavenly perfume.
Along the Appian road they passed, through the gate of Rome whichstill--nigh upon two thousand years afterwards--is called by hisname. They passed the pyramid of Gaius Cestius, with all its statues.Only one incident occurred on his journey. Just as they were passingthe pyramid of Cestius, a lady, young and deeply veiled, met themournful procession, and stopped the centurion in command of thesoldiers. ‘I am Plautilla,’ she said, ‘the daughter of FlaviusSabinus, the Præfect of the City, the relative of Aulus Plautiusand Pomponia Græcina. Suffer me for a moment to speak to yourprisoner.’
Impressed by the great names which she had mentioned, the centurionbade the soldiers stand aside for a moment, and Plautilla, kneelingon the grass, asked with tears for the Apostle’s blessing. He laidhis chained hand on her head and blessed her, and she gave him fromher kinswoman Pomponia a handkerchief with which to bind his eyes ashe knelt for the blow of the executioner. He gratefully accepted it,and said, ‘I know the name of Pomponia. It is ever pronounced withthe blessings of the saints of God.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘O Apostle, and my brother, the nephew of Vespasian,who is in command in Judæa--he too is a Christian.’
The Apostle upraised in thankfulness his fettered hands. ‘The night,’he said, ‘is far spent. The day is at hand.’
The centurion beckoned to the soldiers to proceed, and Plautillastood gazing after them under the shadow of the pyramid.
About three miles from the walls of Rome, on a green and level spaceamid low, undulating hills, was the spot then known as Aquæ Salviæ,and now as Tre Fontane. To this spot they marched in the earlymorning--the chained prisoner with the soldiers round him, and thecenturion walking at their head. Onesimus followed close behind. Themartyr scarcely spoke. His face was lit with an inward rapture; hislips moved incessantly in silent prayer. He had no fear. Lovely tohim as the colours of the rainbow on the thundercloud gleamed theazure of his home. They reached the green level under the trees.The prisoner was bidden to kneel down. Onesimus helped him to takeoff his upper garment, received his last few words of prayer andencouragement and blessing, and the gentle pressure of his hand infarewell. He bound over the Apostle’s eyes Plautilla’s handkerchief,and then turned away, hiding his face in his hands, weeping as ifhis heart would break. Then he heard the word of command given. Forone instant he looked up--in that instant the sword flashed, and thelife of the greatest of the Apostles was shorn away.
The work of the soldiers was over. They had no further concern inthe matter, except that
the centurion had to certify to Nero thatthe execution had been carried out. They left the mortal body ofthe martyr on the green turf. When they were gone, the Christians,whom they had repelled but who had followed them afar off, came toweep over it and to bury it. Onesimus took his part in digging thenameless grave. But the site of it was kept in loving remembranceuntil in due time there rose over that spot the ‘trophy’ whichexisted, as we are told by Gaius the presbyter, as far back asthe second century, where now stands in all the splendour of itsmany-coloured marbles the great church of San Paolo fuori le Mura.
And, as they sorrowfully left the scene of martyrdom, the grey lightwhich had touched the eastern clouds began to flush into the rosydawn, and the sun rose on the world’s new day.
