The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 28 March 1918, Page 3

The Storyteller

t (By Cardinal Wiseman.)

F A B I OLA; 08, THE CHURCH OF THE CATACOMBS

Part First-Peace CHAPTER XIII.CHARITY. As we do not choose to enter the house of Agnes either with the wolf or with the fox, we will take a more spiritual mode of doing so, and find ourselves at once inside. The parents of Agnes represented noble lines of ancestry, and her family was not one of recent conversion; but had for several generations professed the faith. As in heathen families was cherished the memory of ancestors who had won a triumph, or held high offices in the state, so in this, and other Christian houses, was preserved with pious reverence and affectionate pride, the remembrance of those relations who had, in the last hundred and fifty years or more, borne the palm of martyrdom, or occupied the sublimer dignities of the Church. But, though ennobled thus, and with a constant stream of blood poured forth for Christ, accompanying the waving branches of the family-tree, the stem had never been hewn down, blithad survived repeated storms. .This may appear surprising ; but when we reflect how many a soldier goes through a whole campaign of frequent actions and does not receive a wound, or how many a family remains untainted through a plague, we cannot be surprised if Providence watched over the well-beino- of the Church, by preserving in it, through old family successions, long unbroken chains of tradition, and so enabling the faithful to say: “Unless the Lord of Hosts had left us seed, we had been as Sodom, and we should have been like to Gomorrha.” All the honors and the hopes of this family centred now in one, whose name is already known to our readers, Agnes, the only child of that ancient house. Given to her parents as they had reached the very verge of hope that their line could be continued, she had been from infancy blest with such a sweetness of disposition, such a docility and intelligence of mind, and such simplicity and innocence of character, that she had grown up the common object of love, and almost of reverence, to the entire house, from her parents down to the lowest servant. Yet nothing seemed to spoil or warp the compact virtuousness of her nature; but her good qualities expanded with » wellbalanced adjustment which, at the early age in which we find " her, had ripened into combined grace and wisdom. She shared all her parents’ virtuous thoughts* and cared as little for the world as they. She lived with them in a small portion of the mansion which was fitted up with elegance though not with luxury, and their establishment was adequate to all their wants. Here they received the few friends with whom they preserved familiar relations, though, as they did not entertain nor go out, these were few. Fabiola was an occasional visitor, though Agnes preferred, going to see her at her house ; and she often expressed to her young friend her longing for the day when, meeting with a suitable match, she would re-embellish and open ail the splendid dwelling. For, notwithstanding the Voconian law “on the inheritance of women,” now quite obsolete, Agnes had received from collateral sources large personal additions to the family property. In general, of course, the heathen world, who visited, attributed appearances to avarice, and calculated what immense accumulations of wealth the miserly parents must be putting by, and concluded that all beyond the solid screen which shut up the second court was left to fall into decay and ruin. It was not so, however. The inner part of the

house, consisting:of a large; court, and the garden, with a detached dining-hall, or triclinium, turned into a church, and the upper portion of the house accessible from those parts, were devoted to the administration of that copious charity which the Church carried on as a business'' of its life. : It was. under the'care and direction of the deacon Reparatus, and, his exorcist Sec.undus, officially appointed by the supreme Pontiff : to take care of the sick, poor, and strangers in one of the seven regions into which Pope Cajus, about five years before, had divided the city for this purpose, committing each region to one of the seyen deacons of the Roman Church. Rooms were set apart for lodging strangers who came from a distance recommended by other churches, and a frugal table was provided for them. ■ Upstairs were apartments for an hospital for the bed-ridden, the decrepit, and the sick, under the care of the deaconesses, and such of the faithful as loved to assist in this work of charity. It was here that the blind girl had her cell, though she refused to take her food, as we have seen, in the house. The tablinum, or muniment-room, which generally stood detached in the middle of the passage between the inner courts, served as the office and archives for transacting the business of this charitable establishment, and preserving all local documents, such as the acts of martyrs, procured or compiled by the one of the seven notaries kept for that purpose by institution of St. Clement 1., who was attached to that region. A door of communication allowed the household to assist in these works of charity, and Agnes had been accustomed .from childhood to run in and out many times a day, and to pass hours there, always beaming, like an angel of light, consolation and joy on the suffering and distressed. This house, then, might be called the almonry of the region or district of charity and hospitality in which it was situated, and it was accessible for these purposes through the posticum or back door, situated in a narrow lane little frequented. No wonder that with such an establishment the fortune of the inmates should find an easy application. We heard Pancratius request Sebastian to arrange for the distribution of his plate and jewels among the poor, without its being known to whom they belonged. He had not lost sight of the commission, and had fixed on the house of Agnes as the fittest for this purpose. On the morning which we have described, the distribution had to take place; other regions had sent their poor, accompanied by their deacons; while Sebastian, Pancratius, and other persons of higher rank had come in through the front door to assist in the division. Some, of these had been seen to enter by Corvinus. CHAPTER XIV.—EXTREMES MEET. A group of poor coming opportunely towards the door, enabled Corvinus to tack himself to them, —an admirable counterfeit, in all but the modesty of their deportment. He kept sufficiently close to them to hear that each of them, as he entered in, pronounced •the words, "Deo gratias," "Thanks be to God." This was not merely a Christian, but a Catholic pass-word; for St. Augustine tells us that heretics ridiculed Catholics for using it, on the ground that it was not a salutation but rather a reply ; but that Catholics employed it because consecrated by pious usage. It is yet heard in Italy on similar occasions. . Corvinus pronounced the mystic words, and was allowed to pass. Following the others closely, and copying their manners and gestures, , he found himself in. the inner court of the house, which was already filled with the poor and infirm. The men were ranged on one side, the women on the other. Under the portico at the end were tables piled with costly plate, and' near them, was another covered with * brilliant jewellery. Two silver and gold smiths were weighing and valuing most conscientiously this property and

beside them was the money which they would give tobe distributed amongst the poor in just proportion. : " Corvinus eyed all - this with '.-;; a gluttonous heart. He would have given anything to get it all, and almost thought .of making a dash at something, /and running out. But he saw at once the folly ;or madness of such a course, and resolved to wait for a share, and in the meantime take note for Fulvius of all he saw. He soon, however, became aware of the awkwardness of his present position. While the'poor were all mixed up together and moving about, he remained unnoticed. But he soon saw several young men of peculiarly gentle manners, but active, and evidently in authority, dressed in the garment known to him by the name of Dalmatic, from its Dalmatian origin; that is, having over the tunic, instead of the toga, a close-fitting shorter tunicle, with ample, but not over long or wide sleeves; the dress adopted and worn by the deacons, not only at their more solemn ministrations in church, but also when engaged in the discharge of their secondary duties about the sick and poor. ,* ' These officers went on marshalling the attendants, each evidently knowing those of his own district, and conducting them to a peculiar spot within the porticoes. But as no one recognised or claimed Corvinus for one of his poor, he was at length left alone in the middle of the court. Even his dull mind could feel the anomalous situation into which he had thrust himself. Here he-was, the son of the Prefect of the city, whose duty it was to punish such violators of domestic rights, an intruder into the innermost parts of a nobleman's house, having entered by a cheat, dressed like a beggar, and associating himself with such people, of course for some sinister, or at least unlawful purpose. He looked towards the door, meditating an escape; but he saw it guarded by an old man named Diogenes and his two stout sons', who could hardly restrain their hot blood at this insolence, though they only showed it by scowling looks, and repressive biting of their lips. He saw that he was a subject of consultation among the young deacons, who cast occasional glances towards him; he imagined that even the blind were staring at him, and the decrepit ready to wield their crutches like battleaxes against him. He had only one consolation; it was evident he was not known, and he hoped to frame some excuse for getting out of the scrape. . At length the deacon Reparatus came up to him, and thus courteously accosted him—- " Friend, you probably do not belong to one of the regions invited here to-day. Where do you live?" "In the region of the Alta Semita." This answer gave the civil, not the ecclesiastical, division of Rome. Still Reparatus went on: "The Alta Semita is in my region, yet I do not remember to have seen you." While he spoke these words he was astonished to see the stranger turn deadly pale, and totter as if about to fall, while his eyes were fixed upon -the door of communication with the dwelling-house. Reparatus looked in the same direction, and saw Pancratius, just entered, and gathering 6ome hasty information from Secundus. . Corvinus's last hope was gone. He stood the next moment confronted with the youth (who asked Reparatus to retire), much in the same position as they had last met in, only that, instead of a circle round him of applauders and backers, he was here hemmed in on all sides by a multitude who evidently looked with preference upon his rival. " Nor could Corvinus help observing the graceful development and manly bearing which a few weeks had given his late schoolmate. ' He expected a volley of keen reproach, and perhaps such chastisement as he would himself have inflicted in similar circumstances. What was his amazement when Pancratius thus addressed him in the mildest tone —■ - x ; -._. _. "Corvinus, are you really reduced to distress and lamed by some accident? Or how have you left your father's house?" ■"" y;

>w,^- 'Not, quite come to that yet, I hope," replied the bully, : encouraged to insolence by the gentle address, "though, no doubt, you .would be heartily glad to see it.. ■"■■'■' - ';■'' •"' --'-•:- '-'■' , . "By no means, I assure .you I hold you no grudge. If, therefore, you require relief. tell me; and though it is not right that you should be. here, I can take you into a private chamber where you can receive it unknown." : - \ .■■:.: "Then I will tell you the truth: I came in here merely for a freak, and I should be glad if you could get me quietly out." "Corvinus," said the youth, with some sternness, "this is a serious offence. What would your father say if I desired these young men, who would instantly obey, to take you as you are, barefoot, clothed as a slave, counterfeiting a cripple, into the Forum before his tribunal, and publicly, charge' you with what every Roman would resent, forcing your way into the heart of a patrician's house?" "For the gods' sake, good Pancratius, do not inflict such frightful punishment." "You know, Corvinus, that your own father would be obliged to act towards you the part of Junius Brutus, or forfeit his office." . "I entreat- you by all that- you love, by all that, you hold sacred-, not to dishonor me and mine so cruelly. My father and his house, not I, would be crushed and ruined for ever. I will go on my knees and beg your pardon for my former injuries if you will only bo merciful." "Hold, hold, Corvinus, I have told you that was long forgotten. But hear me now. Every one but the blind around you is a witness to this outrage. There will be a hundred evidences to prove it. If ever, then, you speak of this assembly, still more if you attempt to molest any one for it, we shall have it in our power to bring you to .trial at your own father's judgment seat. Do you understand me, Corvinus ?" "I do, indeed," replied the captive, in a whining tone. "Never, as long as I live, will I breathe to mortal soul that I came into this dreadful nlace. I swear it by the " "Hush, hush! we want no such oaths here. Take my arm, and walk with me." Then turning to the others, he continued: "I know this person; his coming here is quite a mistake." The spectators, who had taken the wretch's supplicating gestures and tone for accompaniments to a tale of woe and strong application for relief, joined in crying out, "Pancratius, you will not send him away fasting and unsuccored ?" "Leave that to me," was the reply. The selfappointed porters gave way before Pancratius, who led' Corvinus, still pretending to limp, into the street, and' dismissed him, saying, "Corvinus, we are now quits; only, take care of your promise." Fulvius, as we have seen, went to try his fortune by the front door. v He found it, according to Roman custom, unlocked; and, indeed, no one could have suspected the possibility of a stranger entering at such an hour. Instead of a porter, he found, guarding the door, only a simple-looking girl about twelve or thirteen years of age, clad in a 'peasant's garment. No one else was near, and he thought it an excellent opportunity to verify the strong suspicion which had crossed his mind. Accordingly, he thus addressed the little portress. "What is your name, child, and who are you?" "I am," she replied, "Emerentiana, the Lady Agnes's foster-sister." -.. "Are you a Christian?" he asked her sharply. The poor' little peasant opened her eyes in the amazement of ignorance and replied, "No, sir." It was ..impossible to resist the evidence of her simplicity, and Fulvius was satisfied that he was mistaken. The fact was that she was the- daughter of a peasant who ihad^beenfAgnes's nurse. „";:": The .mother had just died, and her kind sister had sent for the orphan daughter,' •intending to have her instructed and baptised. She •had 3 only * arrived a !; day or a two before, and was yet (totally ignorant of Christianity.'.""- « v „ - ..«.-

: Fulvius stood embarrassed what to do next. Soli- ; tude made him'feel as awkwardly situated as <a| crowd ¥ was making Corvinus. He thought of retreating, but this would have destroyed all his hopes; he was going to advance, when he reflected that he might commit himself unpleasantly. ,> At this critical juncture whom should he see 'coming lightly across the court but the youthful mistress of the house, all joy, all. spring, all brightness and sunshine. As soon, as she saw him she stood, as if to receive his errand, and he approached, with his blandest smile and most courtly gesture, and thus addressed her—"l have anticipated the usual hour at which * visitors come, and, I fear, must appear an intruder, Lady Agnes; but I was impatient to inscribe myself as an humble client of your noble house." "Our house," she replied, smiling, "boasts of no clients, nor do we seek them, for we have no pretensions to influence or power." "Pardon me; with such a ruler it possesses the highest of influences and the mightiest of powers, those which reign without effort, over the heart as a most willing subject." Incapable of imagining that such words could allude to herself, she replied, with artless simplicity "Oil, how true are your words! the Lord of this house is indeed the sovereign over the affections of all within it." ' "But I," interposed Fulvius, "allude to that softer and benigner dominion, which graceful chirms alone can exercise on those who from near behold them." Agnes looked as one entranced; her ey.es beheld a very different image before them from that, of her wretched flatterer ; and with an impassioned glance towards heaven, she exclaimed — • "Yes, He Whose beauty sun and moon in their lofty firmament gaze* on and admire, to Him is pledged my service and my love." Fulvius was confounded and perplexed. The inspired look, the rapturous attitude, the music of the thrilling tones in which she uttered these words, their mysterious import, the strangeness of the'whole scene, fastened him to the spot and sealed his lips till, feeling that he was losing the most favorable opportunity he could ever expect of opening his mind (affection it could not be called) to her, he boldly said, "It is of you I am speaking; and I entreat you to believe my expression of sincerest admiration of you, and of unbounded attachment to you." As he uttered these words he dropped on his knee, and attempted to take her hand; but the maiden bounded back with a shudder, and turned away her burning countenance. Fulvius started in an instant to his feet, for he saw Sebastian, who was come to summon Agnes to the poor, impatient of her absence, striding forwards towards him, with an air of indignation. "Sebastian," said Agnes to him, as he approached, "be not angry; this gentleman has probably entered here by some unintentional mistake, and no doubt will quietly retire." Saying this, she withdrew. Sebastian, with his calm but energetic manner, now addressed the intruder, who quailed beneath his look: "Fulvius, what do you here? What business has brought you V . • "I suppose," answered he, regaining courage, "that having met the lady of the house at the same place with you, her noble cousin's table, 1 have a right to wait upon her, in common with other voluntary clients." "But not at so unreasonable an hour as this, I presume ; | "The hour that is not unreasonable for a young officer," retorted Fulvius insolently, "is "not, I trust* so for a civilian." Sebastian had to use all his power of self-control to check his indignation, as he replied—"Fulvius, be not rash in what you say; but remember that two. persons may be on i a very different footing in a house. Yet not even the longest familiarity, still less a on© dinner's acquaintance, can authorise or justify the audacity of your bearing towards the young mistress of this 1 h#ti&& & few moments ago," v

Y, -.-'Oh, you are jealous, I 7 suppose, brave captain!" ' replied Fulvius, with his refined sarcastic tone. "Report says that you are the acceptable, if not ac- J cepted, candidate for Fabiola's hand. She is now in the country; and, no doubt, you wish to make sure for yourself of the fortune of one or the other of Rome's richest heiresses. There is nothing like having two . strings to one's bow." This coarse and bitter sarcasm wounded the noble officer's best feelings to the quick; and had he not long before disciplined himself to Christian meekness, his blood would have proved too powerful for his reason. "It is not good for either of us,- Fulvius, that you remain longer here. ' The courteous dismissal of the noble lady whom you have insulted has not sufficed ; I must be the. ruder executor of her command." Saying this, he took the unbidden guest's arm in his powerful grasp and conducted him to the door. When he had put him outside, still holding him fast, he added, "Go now, Fulvius, in peace: and remember that you have this day made yourself amenable to the laws of the state by this unworthy conduct. I will spare you, if you know how to keep your own counsel ; but it is well that you should know that 1 am acquainted with your occupation in Rome : and that I hold this morning's insolence over your head as a security that you will follow it discreetly. Now, again I pay, go in peace." But he had no sooner let go his grasp, than he felt himself seized from behind by an unseen, but evidently an athletic, assailant. It was Eurotas, from whom Fulvius durst conceal nothing, and to whom he had confided the intended interview with Corvinus, that had followed and watched him. From the black slave he had before learnt the mean and coarse character of this client of her magical arts ; and he feared some trap. When he saw the seeming struggle at the door, he ran stealthily behind Sebastian, who, he fancied, must be his pupil's new ally, and pounced upon him with a bear's rude assault. But he had no common rival to deal with. He attempted in vain, though now helped by Fulvius, to throw the soldier heavily down ; till, despairing of success in this way, he detached from his girdle a small but deadly weapon, a steel mace of finished Syrian make, and was raising it over the back of Sebastian's head, when he felt it wrenched in a trice from his hand, and himself twirled two or three times round, in an iron grip, and flung flat in the middle of the street. "I am afraid you have hurt the poor fellow, Quadratus," said Sebastian to his centurion, who was coming up at that moment to join his fellow-Christians, and was of most Herculean make and strength. "He well deserves it, tribune, for his cowardly assault," replied the other, as they re-entered the house. The two foreigners, crestfallen, slunk away from the scene of their defeat; and as they turned the corner, caught a glimpse of Corvinus, no longer limping, but running as fast as his legs would carry him from his discomfiture at the back door. However often ' they may have met afterwards, neither ever alluded to their feats of that morning. Each knew that the other had incurred only failure and shame, and they came both to the conclusion that there was one fold at least in Rome which either fox or wolf would assail in vain. (To be continued.)