Perpetua. A Tale of Nimes in A.D. 213 Read online

  PERPETUA

  A TALE OF NIMES IN A.D. 213

  BY THE REV. S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.

  NEW YORKE. P. DUTTON & COMPANY31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET1897

  COPYRIGHT, 1897, BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. EST 1 II. AEMILIUS 14 III. BAUDILLAS, THE DEACON 22 IV. THE UTRICULARES 33 V. THE LAGOONS 45 VI. THE PASSAGE INTO LIFE 57 VII. OBLATIONS 68 VIII. THE VOICE AT MIDNIGHT 81 IX. STARS IN WATER 93 X. LOCUTUS EST! 105 XI. PALANQUINS 117 XII. REUS 128 XIII. AD FINES 140 XIV. TO THE LOWEST DEPTH 152 XV. "REVEALED UNTO BABES" 165 XVI. DOUBTS AND DIFFICULTIES 177 XVII. PEDO 189 XVIII. IN THE CITRON-HOUSE 204 XIX. MARCIANUS 218 XX. IN THE BASILICA 230 XXI. A MANUMISSION 242 XXII. THE ARENA 256 XXIII. THE CLOUD-BREAK 270 XXIV. CREDO 287

  PERPETUA

  A TALE OF NIMES IN A.D. 213

  CHAPTER I

  EST

  The Kalends (first) of March.

  A brilliant day in the town of Nemausus--the modern Nimes--in the Provinceof Gallia Narbonensis, that arrogated to itself the title of being _the_province, a title that has continued in use to the present day, asdistinguishing the olive-growing, rose-producing, ruin-strewn portion ofSouthern France, whose fringe is kissed by the blue Mediterranean.

  Not a cloud in the nemophyla-blue sky. The sun streamed down, with a heatthat was unabsorbed, and with rays unshorn by any intervenient vapor, asin our northern clime. Yet a cool air from the distant snowy Alps touched,as with the kiss of a vestal, every heated brow, and refreshed it.

  The Alps, though invisible from Nemausus, make themselves felt, now inrefreshing breezes, then as raging icy blasts.

  The anemones were in bloom, and the roses were budding. Tulips spangledthe vineyards, and under the olives and in the most arid soil, thereappeared the grape hyacinth and the star of Bethlehem.

  At the back of the white city stands a rock, the extreme limit of a spurof the Cebennae, forming an amphitheatre, the stones scrambled over by blueand white periwinkle, and the crags heavy with syringa and floweringthorns.

  In the midst of this circus of rock welled up a river of transparentbottle-green water, that filled a reservoir, in which circled white swans.

  On account of the incessant agitation of the water, that rose in bells,and broke in rhythmic waves against the containing breastwork, neitherwere the swans mirrored in the surface, nor did the white temple ofNemausus reflect its peristyle of channeled pillars in the green flood.

  This temple occupied one side of the basin; on the other, a littleremoved, were the baths, named after Augustus, to which some of the waterwas conducted, after it had passed beyond the precinct within which it wasregarded as sacred.

  It would be hard to find a more beautiful scene, or see such a gaygathering as that assembled near the Holy Fountain on this first day ofMarch.

  Hardly less white than the swans that dreamily swam in spirals, was thebalustrade of limestone that surrounded the sheet of heaving water. Atintervals on this breasting stood pedestals, each supporting a statue inCarrara marble. Here was Diana in buskins, holding a bow in her hand, inthe attitude of running, her right hand turned to draw an arrow from thequiver at her back. There was the Gallic god Camulus, in harness, holdingup a six-rayed wheel, all gilt, to signify the sun. There was a nymphpouring water from her urn; again appeared Diana contemplating herfavorite flower, the white poppy.

  But in the place of honor, in the midst of the public walk before thefountain, surrounded by acacias and pink-blossomed Judas trees, stood thegod Nemausus, who was at once the presiding deity over the fountain, andthe reputed founder of the city. He was represented as a youth, ofgraceful form, almost feminine, and though he bore some military insignia,yet seemed too girl-like and timid to appear in war.

  The fountain had, in very truth, created the city. This marvelous upheavalof a limpid river out of the heart of the earth had early attractedsettlers to it, who had built their rude cabins beside the stream and whopaid to the fountain divine honors. Around it they set up a circle of rudestones, and called the place _Nemet_--that is to say, the Sacred Place.After a while came Greek settlers, and they introduced a new civilizationand new ideas. They at once erected an image of the deity of the fountain,and called this deity Nemausios. The spring had been female to the Gaulishoccupants of the settlement; it now became male, but in its aspect thedeity still bore indications of feminine origin. Lastly the place became aRoman town. Now beautiful statuary had taken the place of the monoliths ofunhewn stone that had at one time bounded the sacred spring.

  On this first day of March the inhabitants of Nemausus were congregatednear the fountain, all in holiday costume.

  Among them ran and laughed numerous young girls, all with wreaths of whitehyacinths or of narcissus on their heads, and their clear musical voicesrang as bells in the fresh air.

  Yet, jocund as the scene was, to such as looked closer there wasobservable an under-current of alarm that found expression in the faces ofthe elder men and women of the throng, at least in those of such personsas had their daughters flower-crowned.

  Many a parent held the child with convulsive clasp, and the eyes offathers and mothers alike followed their darlings with a greed, as thoughdesirous of not losing one glimpse, not missing one word, of the littlecreature on whom so many kisses were bestowed, and in whom so much lovewas centered.

  For this day was specially dedicated to the founder and patron of thetown, who supplied it with water from his unfailing urn, and once in everyseven years on this day a human victim was offered in sacrifice to the godNemausus, to ensure the continuance of his favor, by a constant efflux ofwater, pure, cool and salubrious.

  The victim was chosen from among the daughters of the old Gaulish familiesof the town, and the victim was selected from among girls between the agesof seven and seventeen. Seven times seven were bound to appear on this daybefore the sacred spring, clothed in white and crowned with springflowers. None knew which would be chosen and which rejected. The selectionwas not made by either the priests or the priestesses attached to thetemple. Nor was it made by the magistrates of Nemausus. No parent mightredeem his child. Chance or destiny alone determined who was to be chosenout of the forty-nine who appeared before the god.

  Suddenly from the temple sounded a blast of horns, and immediately theperistyle (colonnade) filled with priests and priestesses in white, theformer with wreaths of silvered olive leaves around their heads, thelatter crowned with oak leaves of gold foil.

  The trumpeters descended the steps. The crowd fell back, and a processionadvanced. First came players on the double flute, or syrinx, with redbands round their hair. Then followed dancing girls performing gracefulmovements about the silver image of the go
d that was borne on theshoulders of four maidens covered with spangled veils of the finestoriental texture. On both sides paced priests with brazen trumpets.

  Before and behind the image were boys bearing censers that diffusedaromatic smoke, which rose and spread in all directions, wafted by thesoft air that spun above the cold waters of the fountain.

  Behind the image and the dancing girls marched the priests andpriestesses, singing alternately a hymn to the god.

  "Hail, holy fountain, limpid and eternal, Green as the sapphire, infinite, abundant, Sweet, unpolluted, cold and clear as crystal, Father Nemausus.

  Hail, thou Archegos, founder of the city, Crowned with oak leaves, cherishing the olive, Grapes with thy water annually flushing, Father Nemausus.

  Thou to the thirsty givest cool refreshment, Thou to the herdsman yieldeth yearly increase, Thou from the harvest wardest off diseases, Father Nemausus.

  Seven are the hills on which old Rome is founded, Seven are the hills engirdling thy fountain, Seven are the planets set in heaven ruling, Father Nemausus.

  Thou, the perennial, lovest tender virgins, Do thou accept the sacrifice we offer; May thy selection be the best and fittest, Father Nemausus."

  Then the priests and priestesses drew up in lines between the people andthe fountain, and the aedile of the city, standing forth, read out from aroll the names of seven times seven maidens; and as each name was called,a white-robed, flower-crowned child fluttered from among the crowd and wasreceived by the priestly band.

  When all forty-nine were gathered together, then they were formed into aring, holding hands, and round this ring passed the bearers of the silverimage.

  Now again rose the hymn:

  "Hail, holy fountain, limpid and eternal, Green as the sapphire, infinite, abundant, Sweet, unpolluted, cold and clear as crystal, Father Nemausus."

  And as the bearers carried the image round the circle, suddenly a goldenapple held by the god, fell and touched a graceful girl who stood in thering.

  "Come forth, Lucilla," said the chief priestess. "It is the will of thegod that thou speak the words. Begin."

  Then the damsel loosed her hands from those she held, stepped into themidst of the circle and raised the golden pippin. At once the entire ringof children began to revolve, like a dance of white butterflies in earlyspring; and as they swung from right to left, the girl began to recite ata rapid pace a jingle of words in a Gallic dialect, that ran thus:

  "One and two Drops of dew, Three and four Shut the door."

  As she spoke she indicated a child at each numeral,

  "Five and six Pick up sticks, Seven and eight Thou must wait."

  Now there passed a thrill through the crowd, and the children whirledquicker.

  "Nine and ten Pass again. Golden pippin, lo! I cast, Thou, Alcmene, touched at last."

  At the word "last" she threw the apple and struck a girl, and at once leftthe ring, cast her coronet of narcissus into the fountain and ran into thecrowd. With a gasp of relief she was caught in the arms of her mother, whoheld her to her heart, and sobbed with joy that her child was spared. Forher, the risk was past, as she would be over age when the next septennialsacrifice came round.

  Now it was the turn of Alcmene.

  She held the ball, paused a moment, looking about her, and then, as thetroop of children revolved, she rattled the rhyme, and threw the pippin ata damsel named Tertiola. Whereupon she in turn cast her garland, that wasof white violets, into the fountain, and withdrew.

  Again the wreath of children circled and Tertiola repeated the jingle tillshe came to "Touched at last," when a girl named AElia was selected, andcame into the middle. This was a child of seven, who was shy and clung toher mother. The mother fondled her, and said, "My AElia! Rejoice that thouart not the fated victim. The god has surrendered thee to me. Be speedywith the verse, and I will give thee _crustulae_ that are in my basket."

  So encouraged, the frightened child rattled out some lines, then halted;her memory had failed, and she had to be reminded of the rest. At last shealso was free, ran to her mother's bosom and was comforted with cakes.

  A young man with folded arms stood lounging near the great basin. Heoccasionally addressed a shorter man, a client apparently, from hiscringing manner and the set smile he wore when addressing or addressed bythe other.

  "By Hercules!" said the first. "Or let me rather swear by Venus and herwayward son, the Bow-bearer, that is a handsome girl yonder, she who isthe tallest, and methinks the eldest of all. What is her name, myCallipodius?"

  "She that looks so scared, O supremity of excellent youths, AEmiliusLentulus Varo! I believe that she is the daughter and only child of thewidow Quincta, who lost her husband two years ago, and has refusedmarriage since. They whisper strange things concerning her."

  "What things, thou tittle-tattle bearer?"

  "Nay, I bear but what is desired of me. Didst thou not inquire of me whothe maiden was? I have a mind to make no answer. But who can deny anythingto thee?"

  "By the genius of Augustus," exclaimed the patron, "thou makest me turnaway my head at thy unctuous flattery. The peasants do all their cookingin oil, and when their meals be set on the table the appetite is takenaway, there is too much oil. It is so with thy conversation. Come, thynews."

  "I speak but what I feel. But see how the circle is shrunk. As to thescandal thou wouldst hear, it is this. The report goes that the widow andher daughter are infected with a foreign superstition, and worship anass's head."

  "An ass's head hast thou to hold and repeat such lies. Look at the virgin.Didst ever see one more modest, one who more bears the stamp of soundreason and of virtue on her brow. The next thou wilt say is----"

  "That these Christians devour young children."

  "This is slander, not scandal. By Jupiter Camulus! the circle is reducedto four, and she, that fair maid, is still in it. There is Quinctilla, thedaughter of Largus; look at him, how he eyes her with agony in his face!There is Vestilia Patercola. I would to the gods that the fair--what is hername?"

  "Perpetua, daughter of Aulus Har----"

  "Ah!" interrupted the patron, uneasily. "Quinctilla is out."

  "Her father, Aulus Harpinius----"

  "See, see!" again burst in the youth AEmilius, "there are but two left;that little brown girl, and she whom thou namest----"

  "Perpetua."

  Now arrived the supreme moment--that of the final selection. The choosinggirl, in whose hand was the apple, stood before those who alone remained.She began:

  "One, two Drops of dew."

  Although there was so vast a concourse present, not a sound could beheard, save the voice of the girl repeating the jingle, and the rush ofthe holy water over the weir. Every breath was held.

  "Nine and ten, Pass again. Golden pippin, now I cast, Thou, Portumna, touched at last."

  At once the brown girl skipped to the basin, cast in her garland, and thehigh priestess, raising her hand, stepped forward, pointed to Perpetua,and cried, "Est."