University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The Gate Sanevivaria.
Tertius, Pomponius, Testus, and other Christians. Cæcilius apart, leaning against the gate.
TERTIUS.
The clouds are heavy as the day. More like
A gloomy eve, when winter's drawing on,
Than morning towards the spring.

POMPONIUS.
The heavens are sad
Even at the deeds they do permit. Thus came
The darkness mourning o'er the day that saw
His death on Calvary.

CÆCILIUS.
What means that shout?

TERTIUS.
That now a Christian's soul ascends to God.

Enter Pudens from the gate.
PUDENS.
He gave me this who even now hath died
Under the leopard's fangs.

POMPONIUS.
Saturus' ring.

PUDENS.
But yesterday, he bade me note the words
Here graved upon it,—“Faithful unto death!”
He bath'd it in his blood, then gave it me
With words scarce heard: I could but look at him.
Many have I seen die: upon them all
A shadow fell; on him there shone a light
Most strange. No sunshine was about the place,
But all seem'd darkness there, save only he.

CÆCILIUS.
And yet remains.

[Shouts from within.
PUDENS.
I must not stay. Guard well
This precious pledge. A soldier mark'd the gift;
In case of question, safer 'twere with thee.

[Exit Pudens. Shouts from within.
TESTUS.
O Christ, receive their souls!

Enter Attilius.
ATTILIUS.
The elements
Dissolve. Remains there naught save fire and blood!
Hast seen her?—

CÆCILIUS.
Nay!

ATTILIUS.
The promis'd words—the last,
Woe! woe! that she will ever hear—the home
Where first her eyes were open'd to the light,
But now I saw it fall!

TERTIUS.
Her father?

CÆCILIUS.
Child?

POMPONIUS.
Break off!—behold!

Vivia and Felicitas appear; wounded, and staggering under the gateway. A guard on either side.
ATTILIUS.
Gods! what a sight is this!

TERTIUS.
She seems entranc'd, like one that hath a vision.

CÆCILIUS.
Oh, speak to us once more!

POMPONIUS.
Whom seekest thou!

VIVIA.
Felicitas?—Thou'rt faint! Lean on me—there.

ATTILIUS.
O heavens! the blood is streaming from thy breast!

VIVIA.
'Tis nothing, nothing, since I knew it not.
And now thy latest tidings.

ATTILIUS.
O my sister,
Thy father's house no longer stands in Carthage!

VIVIA.
He, and my Thascius?

ATTILIUS.
Are on the sea.

CÆCILIUS.
Bound whither?

ATTILIUS
That alone do know the heavens
Above the sea.

VIVIA.
And God above the heavens!

Enter a Lictor.
LICTOR.
The people clamour, and the swordsman waits.

FELICITAS.
Let me stay here—I cannot go within!
My death is all they call for. I am dying.

VIVIA.
Courage, Felicitas!—my sister, peace!
[Kisses her.
A few short moments, and we are with Christ.
Farewell!—it is no word—and yet, farewell!
My blessing—oh, my blessing—take once more,
My brothers, brethren all! And if, Cæcilius,
Thou and my Thascius meet, tell him, although
No mother's name he knows, a mother's love
Clung round him with her life; a mother's heart
Yearn'd for him in her death; a mother's pray'r
Was her last utterance. My child! my Thascius!
Christ, make him thine!—though baptism such as this
May be the way thy wisdom seest best
To bring him to his mother's arms in heaven!

[She throws her arm round Felicitas, and they pass within the gate.
A silence.
TERTIUS.
There comes no shout—all still as death.

ATTILIUS.
As death!

Prolonged silence.
Enter Pudens.
PUDENS.
All's over!—or begun: for if she fell
On earth, or rose an angel to the skies,
I scarce can tell, for wonder at the sight.
Life seem'd to gather in her as she mov'd
Towards her death; while with her arms—such strength
Most strange in one so delicate—she still
Held up Felicitas; who, sinking fast,
No sooner reach'd the spot where all was ready,
Than down she dropp'd, dead, at Perpetua's feet!
The lady straight unclasp'd her drapery rich,
And laid it o'er the slave as tenderly
As though it were her child. And then she rose—
And like a marble pillar there she stood,
As firm, upon the earth. No signal came,
Till she herself did gently bow her head,
And cross her hands upon her breast, in token
Of readiness for the sword. And when the swordsman,
For youth,—or shame to pierce such willingness,—
Or awe, more like, of such a presence,—lost
All mastery of his hands to guide his weapon,
Herself did turn the point against her throat,
Her hand plac'd thus, as rest unto his aim:
A word to encourage him—and it was finish'd!

TERTIUS.
The brethren?—say!

PUDENS.
By now, their lives are ended!

ATTILIUS.
From this time forth I do abjure the gods
Who claim such sacrifice.

TERTIUS.
Turn thou to Christ.

ATTILIUS.
And yet he doth permit—

CÆCILIUS.
Oh, do not question!—
There came a glory on her face but now
When she invok'd his blessing on her child!—
It lingers yet.

TERTIUS.
See—yonder, who are those
That come upon us?

PUDENS.
Camus the priest, and—

ATTILIUS.
No priest—no Jove—no gods!

[Exit Attilius.
TERTIUS.
Let us away!
We meet again for prayer. Though thinn'd the flock,
Still the good Shepherd watcheth, and his crook
Will fold us in. My brethren, go in peace.

[Exeunt all but Cæcilius.
CÆCILIUS.
What god should take my vow?—Into the air,
Up to the sun,—unknowing whom to invoke,
Or clouds to bear it to the throne of Jove,
Or angels to the heaven of her Christ,—
Here do I dedicate limbs, heart, and life,
Unto the service of her memory!
Sleep, shun the eyes that open on a day
Unspent in watching worship of my trust;
Rest, fail the wandering feet that slack their speed,
Or weary, though a wayfaring of years
Should stretch before them, ere I see this child
Stand face to face before his mother's soul!
Her name?—will not the very air he breathes
Whisper it to him; and the sky above
Look conscious of her, finding 'mongst the stars
Myriads of voices still to speak of her?
Her name?—there is no other sound. E'en now,
Doth it not fill the universal space,
As though that name had been ere time begun—
And evermore would be, though time might end?
Vivia Perpetua!—from the arch it echoes,—
Vivia Perpetua!

Enter Camus and Guards.
A LICTOR.
Here's one of them!

CAMUS.
The ward of Statius this. What of the Jew?

A SOLDIER.
Blacken'd and crush'd beneath a granary-beam
I saw his corpse. Seeking for gold, he met
His fate—deserv'd it. What! the noble Vivius
Make rats his treasurers?

CAMUS.
Quick!—clear the wreck.
First gather in the goods due to the temple,
Then on a close pursuit. And, soldiers, mark!
A noble price I set upon the child
Of her who now hath died for disobedience.
How?—shall he 'scape me? Rather to the search
Give all the strength of my remaining days!
Nor mountain-fastness, nor remotest cave,
Nor sea how wide soe'er, nor farthest land,
Shall save him from my grasp! Come, thou good youth,
Away with me!

CÆCILIUS.
I follow on thy track.