CHAPTER III.
EMPRESS AND SLAVE.
Using the time-honoured privilege of ubiquity accorded to imaginativewriters, we beg to conduct our readers to a part of the stately palaceof Diocletian, where, if they had really been found in their own properpersons, it would have been at the peril of their lives. After fifteenlong centuries have passed, we may explore without let or hindrance themost private apartments of the once all-potent masters of the world. Wemay roam through their unroofed banquet-chambers. We may gaze upon thefrescoes, carvings, and mosaics which met their eyes. We may behold theevidences of their luxury and profligacy. We may thread the secretcorridors and galleries connecting the chambers of the palace--all nowopen to the light of day.
We may even penetrate to the boudoirs and tiring rooms of the prouddames of antiquity. We may even examine at our will the secrets of thetoilet--the rouge pots and vases for cosmetics and unguents, the silvermirrors, fibulas or brooches, armlets and jewels, and can thusreconstruct much of that old Roman life which has vanished forever fromthe face of the earth.[7]
By the light of modern exploration and discovery, therefore, we mayenter the private apartments of ladies of the Imperial household, and inimagination re-furnish these now desolate and ruinous chambers with allthe luxury and magnificence of their former prime. A room of commodioussize is paved with tesselated marble slabs, adorned with borders anddesigns of brilliant mosaic. The walls are also marble, save where anelegant fresco on a stucco ground--flowers or fruit or gracefullandscape[8]--greet the eye. A small fountain throws up its silverspray, imparting a grateful coolness to the air. Windows, void ofglass, but mantled and screened by climbing plants and rare exotics,look out into a garden where snowy marble statues are relieved againstthe dark green of the cypress and ilex. Around the room are busts andeffigies of the Imperial household or of historical characters. Thereis, however, a conspicuous absence of the mythological figures, whoseexquisite execution does not atone for their sensuous conception, which,rescued from the _debris_ of ancient civilization, crowd all theArt-galleries of Europe. That this is not the result of accident but ofdesign is seen by an occasional empty pedestal or niche. Distributed atintervals are couches and tables of costly woods, inlaid with ivory, andbronze and silver candelabra, lamps and other household objects ofornament or use. Sitting in an ivory chair amid all this elegance andluxury was a lady in the very flower of her youth, of queenly dignityand majestic beauty. She wore a snowy _stola_, or robe of finest linen,with purple border, flowing in ample folds to her sandaled feet Overthis was negligently thrown a saffron-coloured veil of thinnest tissue.She held in her hand a burnished silver mirror, at which she glancedcarelessly from time to time, while a comely slave with dark lustrouseyes and finely-formed features carefully brushed and braided her longand rippling hair.
This queenly presence was the young and lovely Empress Valeria, thedaughter of Diocletian and Prisca, and wife of the co-Emperor, GaleriusC[ae]sar. The object of envy of all the women of Borne, she lived to becomewithin a few short years the object of their profoundest commiseration.Of her even the unsympathetic Gibbon remarks that "her melancholyadventures might furnish a very singular subject for tragedy."
"Nay, now, Callirho[e:]," said the Empress, with a weary smile, "that willdo! Put up my hair and bind it with this fillet," and she held out agold-embroidered ribband. "Thou knowest I care not for the elaboratecoiffure that is now so fashionable."
"Your Majesty needs it not," said the slave, speaking Greek with a lowsweet voice, and with an Attic purity of accent. "As one of your ownpoets has said, you appear 'when unadorned, adorned the most.'"
"Flatterer," said the Empress, tapping her gaily and almost caressinglywith a plumy fan of ostrich feathers which she held lightly in one hand,"you are trying to spoil me."
"Such goodness as thine, sweet mistress," said the slave, affectionatelykissing her hand, "it would be impossible to spoil."
"Dost know, Callirho[e:]," said the young Empress, with a smile ofbewitching sweetness, "that I have a surprise for thee? It is, thouknowest, my birthday, and in my honour is the banquet given to-day. ButI have a greater pleasure than the banquet can bestow. I give thee thisday thy freedom. Thou art no more a slave, but the freedwoman of theEmpress Valeria. See, here are the papers of thy manumission," and shedrew from the girdle of her robe a sealed and folded parchment, whichshe handed to the now emancipated slave.
"Dearest mistress!" exclaimed the faithful creature, who had thrownherself on the marble pavement and was kissing the sandaled feet of thebeautiful Empress, but an outburst of sobs and tears choked herutterance.
"What! weeping!" exclaimed Valeria. "Are you sorry then?"
"Nay, they are tears of joy," exclaimed the girl, smiling through hertears, like the sun shining through a shower; "not that I tire of thyservice; I wish never to leave it. But I rejoice that my father'sdaughter can serve thee no longer as thy slave, but as thy freedwoman."
"I should indeed be sorry to lose thee," said the august lady with awistful smile. "If I thought I should, I would almost regret thymanumission; for believe me, Callirho[e:], I have need of true friends, andthou, I think, wilt be a faithful one."
"What! I, but this moment a poor slave, the friend of the fairest andmost envied lady in all Rome! Nay, now thou laughest at me; but believeme I am still heart and soul and body thy most devoted servant."
"I do believe it, child," said the Empress; "but tell me, pray, why thouspeakest in that proud melancholy tone of thy father? Was he afreedman?"
"Nay, your Majesty, he was free-born; neither he nor his fathers wereever in bondage to any man,"--and the fair face of the girl was suffusedwith the glow of honest pride in the freeborn blood that flowed in herveins.
"Forgive me, child, if I touched a sore spot in thy memory. Perchance Imay heal it. Money can do much, men say."
"In this case, dearest mistress, it is powerless. But from thee I canhave no secrets, if you care to listen to the story of one so long aslave."
"I never knew thou wert aught else, child. My steward bought thee in theslave market in the Suburra. Tell me all."
"'Tis a short story, but a sad one, your Majesty," said the girl, as shewent on braiding her mistress's hair. "My father was a Hebrew merchant,a dealer in precious stones, well esteemed in his nation. He lived inDamascus, where I was born. He named me after the beautiful fountainnear the Jordan of his native land."
"I thought it had been from the pagan goddess," interrupted the Empress.
"Nay, 'twas from the healing fountain of Callirho[e:], in Judea," continuedthe girl "When my mother died, my father was plunged into inconsolablegrief, and fell ill, well-nigh to death. The most skilled physician inDamascus, Eliezer by name, brought him back to life; but his friendsthought he had better let him die, for he converted him to the hatedChristian faith. Persecuted by his kinsmen, he came to Antioch with mybrother and myself, that he might join the great and flourishingChristian Church in that city.[9] While on a trading voyage to Smyrna,in which we children accompanied our father, we were captured byIllyrian pirates, and carried to the slave market at Ravenna. There Iwas purchased by a slave dealer from Rome, and my father and brotherwere sold I know not whither. I never saw them again,"--and she heaved aweary and hopeless sigh.
"Poor child!" said the Empress, a tear of sympathy glistening on hercheek, "I fear that I can give thee little help. 'Tis strange how myheart went out toward thee when thou wert first brought so tristful andforlorn into my presence. 'Tis a sad world, and even the Emperors can dolittle to set it right."
"There is One who rules on high, dear lady, the God of our fathers, bywhom kings rule and princes decree judgment. He doeth all things well."
"Yes, child, I am not ignorant of the God of the Jews and Christians.What a pity that there should be such bitter hate on the part of yourcountrymen towards those who worship the same great God."
"Yes," said Callirho[e:], "blindness in part hath happened to Israel. Ifthey but knew how Jesus
of Nazareth fulfils all the types and propheciesof their own Scriptures, they would hail Him as the true Messiah of whomMoses and the prophets did write."
"Well, child, I will help thee to find thy father, if possible, though Ifear it will be a difficult task. Ask me freely anything that I can do.As my freedwoman, you will, of course, bear my name with your own. Nowsend my slave Juba to accompany me to the banquet-hall."
Callirho[e:], or as we may now call her, after the Roman usage, ValeriaCallirho[e:], fervently kissed the outstretched hand of her august mistressand gracefully retired.
It may excite some surprise to find such generous sentiments and suchgentle manners as we have described attributed to the daughter of apersecuting Emperor and the wife of a stern Roman general. But reasonsare not wanting to justify this delineation. Both Valeria and her motherPrisca, during their long residence at Nicomedia, where the EmperorDiocletian had established his court, became instructed in the Christianreligion by the bishop of that important see. Indeed, Eusebius informsus that among them there were many Christian converts, both Prisca andValeria, in the Imperial palace. Diocletian and his truculentson-in-law, Galerius, were bigoted pagans, and the mother of the latterwas a fanatical worshipper of the goddess Cybele. The spread ofChristianity even within the precincts of the palace provoked herimplacable resentment, and she urged on her son to active persecution. Acouncil was therefore held in the palace at Nicomedia, a joint edict forthe extirpation of Christianity was decreed, and the magnificentChristian basilica was razed to the ground. The very next day the edictwas torn from the public forum by an indignant Christian, and theImperial palace was almost entirely destroyed by fire. The origin ofthis disaster is unknown, but it was ascribed to the Christians, andintensified the virulence of the persecution. Diocletian proceeded toRome to celebrate a military triumph and to concert with his westerncolleagues more vigorous methods of persecution. It is at this periodthat the opening scenes of our story take place.
FOOTNOTES:
[7] On the Palatine Hill may still be seen, in the palace of the Flavii,the frescoed private apartments and banquet-chambers of the emperors--inthe walls are even the lead water-pipes, stamped with the maker's name;and the innumerable ancient relics in the museums of Rome and Naplesgive such an insight as nothing else can impart of the life andcharacter of the palmy days of the empire.
[8] On the banquet-room mentioned in the last note are some remarkablefrescoes, among other objects being glass vases through whosetransparent sides are seen exquisitely painted fruits--as fresh,apparently, after eighteen centuries as if executed within a few months.
[9] Shortly after this time, that Church numbered 100,000 persons.
Valeria, the Martyr of the Catacombs: A Tale of Early Christian Life in Rome Page 5
