Victor Serenus

CHAPTER XX

SOWING AND REAPING

“Blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church.”

The persecution of the disciples of the New Faith formed a notable epoch in the history both of Judaism and Christianity. It was the first stage of an agitation, which, though subsequently losing some of its local intensity, widened and deepened until it changed the religious complexion of nations and the world. It marked the decadence of the existing ceremonial system, and at the same time dispersed widely the seeds of a vital faith which no opposition has since been able to stamp out.

History confirms the apparent paradox, that living truth has thriven through repression; and even persecution. Stagnation and formalism have been its greater hindrances. It has such an inherent vitality that agitation and antagonism may justly be regarded as important factors in the evolutionary process which brings it into manifestation. It develops true vigor through the exercise of overcoming. Sometimes the Spirit seems to slumber beneath the crust of stagnation, until active hostility quickens its dormant energy and enables it to break forth. Good, therefore, is often nourished from seeming evil.

The intent of the chief priests and elders was to “slay the young child;” but instead they multiplied him. The New Faith was like a fire, and the desperate effort to beat it out only scattered its brands among the endless combustible material of human hearts. Even at this early period in Jerusalem, the little flock that was apprehended and imprisoned formed but a small fraction of the three thousand souls which already had been possessed by the Spirit of Truth.

Before the ninth hour of the day upon which the assembly were thrown into prison, Gamaliel was informed of the wholesale arrest and persecution. Believing that the flight of Amabel would naturally be to the Upper Chamber, it occurred to him that peradventure she might be among the women who had been put in ward. The situation was intolerable. The thought that his own beautiful child, well beloved and delicately reared, was probably imprisoned with the offscouring of the Holy City, almost drove him beside himself. As he looked in upon the recesses of his own soul, there was a violent tempest, in which pride, disgrace, love, and anger were each striving for mastery, and boiling in wild confusion.

The self-poised, reputable, and wise Educator of Jerusalem could hardly persuade himself of his own identity. How the events of a few hours had changed the whole world! He, to whom thousands had come from far and near to learn wisdom, not able to rule his own house and teach his own offspring! Oh, how much better if Amabel had quietly passed into the Beyond, as the physicians had predicted during her late illness! Then the better self made itself heard,—

“Oh, how I love her! I cannot give up my child!”

Bringing his thoughts to immediate events, the question again thrust itself upon him, Is she in prison? He was minded to seek an audience with Caiaphas, and lay the whole matter before him privately, but upon further thought, his pride and dignity revolted.

At length, realizing the strange fact that Saulus had suddenly mounted to the virtual leadership and control of the persecution, the Rabban resolved to send for him. He felt that, notwithstanding his fiery spirit, the influence of their former relation would make such a conference more tolerable than any communication with the chief priests. It was humiliating, but what better could be done? He therefore despatched a faithful messenger to the inn of the Sheepmarket, begging Saulus to come to the palace, upon a pressing matter, without delay. The intervening moments seemed all too long; but at length the former disciple, whose will had now become so imperious in the Holy City, was ushered into his presence. After the usual greetings, Gamaliel introduced the subject which lay so heavy upon his heart.

“O my young friend and former disciple! I am in sore distress, and have sought audience with thee to ask thy favor in a matter of deep concern to myself and my office.”

“I have much respect unto thy wishes, O worthy Rabban! and will listen to thy request.”

“I am minded of the great influence which hath come to thee, O son of Benoni! both with the chief priests and all the people, by reason of thy zeal for the established ordinances. Before making known unto thee my special desire, I would inquire regarding thy purposes, and those of the Sanhedrin, concerning the members of the new sect which hath appeared in our midst?”

“We purpose to uproot and bring to naught the heresy as quickly as possible, for the good of our religion and nation. If peradventure there should be delay, and it become scattered abroad, behold great harm will come to our people and their traditions. Surely, as a teacher in Israel, thou must be mindful of this peril.”

“I have always felt persuaded, O Saulus, that every false philosophy would soon come to an end. I am mindful of the foolishness of the doctrines of the new sect as thou art, and agree that they are harmful; but I am persuaded that, having no root, they will soon wither away. Dost thou not feel that persecution is unduly bitter, and that many who have been deluded will soon come back to the religion of their fathers if left alone for a little time?”

“Nay, worthy Rabban, thine age and much learning hath holden thine eyes to the urgency of the peril which hangeth over our people. There can be no better service to God and Israel than to kill this seditious conspiracy. If our righteous persecution be sharp and quick, behold it will save much trouble. It will prevent the spread of the blasphemy, and confine the severity to a small number. It were therefore merciful to persecute even to the death the betrayers of the Circumcision, before they multiply their proselytes. Of this the Sanhedrin is fully persuaded, and hath given me full authority to make an end of the matter.”

Gamaliel recognized the hopelessness of further argument, and keenly felt how powerless he was to bring about any moderation of the spirit and purpose of the persecution. His opinion of the quality of the New Faith differed little from that of Saulus; but they were utterly unlike in their philosophy of its cure, and in their views of toleration.

One who persecutes or murders for “God’s sake,” or for the interest of some religion, as universal history demonstrates, is of all cruel men the most cruel. Inquisitors have thought that they had a heavy duty laid upon them of “saving souls.”

“It is unseemly to continue the argument,” said Gamaliel; “and now I will make known unto thee the special favor which I crave at thy hands. I beseech thee, for my sake, as thy former teacher and friend, that thou make no mention of what I am about to ask, lest it bring dishonor upon me.”

“I freely grant thy request,” replied Saulus.

The young zealot was greatly surprised at the unwonted earnestness of the Rabban, and wondered what his petition might be.

Brushing away a few tears that he vainly tried to suppress, the distressed father took Saulus by the hand, and looked urgently into his face as if to make a plea.

“O my young friend! behold my loved and dutiful daughter hath been beguiled of the heresy. To-day, before the third hour, she left me that she might join these deluded people, thus giving up my favor, affection, home, and honor. Peradventure she went directly to the Upper Chamber, and hath gone to prison with the other women. Behold my sorrow!”

“She hath chosen her own portion!” said Saulus unconcernedly.

“O Saulus!” said the Rabban pleadingly. “She is young, and knoweth little of the heresy, being deceived.”

“I will visit the prison, and find if she be among the women. What is her name?”

“Amabel.”

“If she be with them, I will command her release, and direct that she return to her father’s house.”

“I thank thee for thy great favor! After being cast into prison, I am persuaded that when released she will show her former wisdom in this matter.”

Gamaliel brightened at the renewal of his own hope, and added,—

“Peradventure it is well! I perceive that nothing less than some such experience would have turned her. Now I soon shall see my daughter!”

Saulus took his leave, and proceeded directly to the prison.

“Hast thou among the heretics a young woman called Amabel?” asked Saulus of the keeper.

Looking over the roll, he replied in the affirmative.

“Release her, and command her to go to her father’s house!”

Saulus disdained to make any explanation, and left at once, without waiting to see her. Gamaliel had requested that his name be not mentioned, and it was therefore impossible that she should be conducted to the palace. It would lead to recognition.

The jailer went to the cell where Amabel was incarcerated, and unbarring the heavy door, proclaimed,—

“By order of Saulus, deputy of the Sanhedrin, behold thou art released, and commanded to go to thy father’s house!”

She passed out of the dark damp interior into the sunshine, and disappeared in the crowded street.

Whither would she go? Her father’s house had been closed against her. Hesitating but a moment, she turned her back toward Mount Zion, and passing northward, continued along the narrow street that led beyond Hezekiah’s Pool, at length coming to the home of Serenus. She knocked at the humble door, and was warmly received and ministered unto by his mother, who welcomed her as her own daughter.

Saulus returned to the Sheepmarket near the close of the eventful day, feeling that his work was well begun.

The more prominent leaders in the sedition had been gathered in, and were to await his persuasive tactics to force their sworn renunciation of the New Faith, and blasphemy of its prophet. Failing in this, adequate punishment would be meted out under his direction, and at his convenience. He felt a peculiar pride that he had the honor of being the chief instrument in the hands of the God of Israel to correct, not only religious, but political transgression. Among the circle at the inn, he was received as a hero and public benefactor. Cassia bestowed her congratulation, and was delighted with his campaign of persecution.

“O my devoted Saulus! thou art a brave leader, chosen of the Lord to defend our people and punish their enemies.”

“Thy words are sweet unto me,” replied Saulus, as they seated themselves in a secluded recess of the court, while the twilight fell upon them. He put his arm around her light form, and drew her close by his side. She was very happy. During a few moments of silence, her heart was so full of golden dreams of the future, that she wished she might look in and behold it, as in a mirror. The music of fancy, unheard without, filled her soul with melody; and amid stirring scenes, her lover was before her day and night. The embrace of his arm tightened, and she nestled her head upon his shoulder. Saulus was transported to a new world as he felt her silken locks and warm breath upon his cheek, and for a little time he forgot persecutions and prisons. Following the swift flight of his imagination, he saw before him, not only his complete triumph in the contest he was waging, but a heaven upon earth, soon to begin, with the full fruition of his love, and the possession of the idol which for years had ruled his heart.

That wonderful intensity of nature which made Saulus a fiery persecutor rendered him a most ardent lover. There was nothing commonplace or mediocre within him. The whole fabric of his character was woven of extremes, all of which were in unceasing vibration.

Would the love of Saulus, now so exclusively centred upon one personality with the intensity of a white heat, ever become broadened, purified, disciplined, and diffused? Could this stream of soul-force, now so narrow and vehement, ever spread out, and in gentle volume nourish barren brown fields, clothe them with living green, and make them bud and blossom? No! says the world. Impossible! replies sensuous logic and intellectual acumen. “Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots?”

The persecution, now so thoroughly inaugurated, raged with unabated ferocity. Dark and cruel weeks dragged their weary course into months, and the cry of martyrs was unceasing. But the heroism of the disciples of the New Faith was a marvel. Under the inquisition of Saulus, men and women were scourged, buffeted, put in confinement, and stoned; and though a few recanted, nearly all were faithful. The courage and spiritual inspiration which had possessed Stephanos continued, and in many cases even stoning to death produced only painless transition. The prisoners healed each other’s distresses, and often the persecutors themselves received from their victims some of the outward fruits of the power of the New Faith. But the bigoted inquisitors seemed possessed of a collective insanity or demoniacal obsession, outbreaking waves of which abound in history.

It would be discordant to the purpose and philosophy which these pages aim to express through depicted events to enlarge upon this period. A tragic story of terrible things that abounded during this spell of unloosed animal passion might be dramatized, which would be well within the limits of the admitted facts of history.7 The theory that a realism which plunges into the depths of harrowing circumstance is either wholesome or artistic will not here be followed. It is true that every tale built upon the principles of idealism, and the portrayal of idealistic character, cannot do without a setting and background of contrasts which will bring truth into high relief, but the dark shades should be kept in subordination.

At length the time came when the New Faith, like a smothered and beaten conflagration, appeared to be thoroughly stamped out in Jerusalem. Every suspected house had been visited, and every implicated man or woman tortured or imprisoned, except such as had fled to remote provinces, which were not a few. But Saulus was not content with the complete conquest of the Jewish capital. Finding that some had slipped from his grasp, he began, like Alexander, to look about for other worlds to conquer. Being informed that a few had fled to Damascus, and were there promulgating the heresy, he made ready for an expedition to that city, and received from the Sanhedrin the necessary authority and equipment.

The terrible strain of conflicting emotion and surging passion which had rent the soul of Saulus, fearfully told upon him. His haggard face, nervous unrest, sleepless nights, and hellish visions, produced an epileptic condition which appeared in the form of occasional paroxysms, and its scars were never afterwards fully removed. They were ever a “stake in the flesh.”

At times, during these feverish months of delirium, the scourgings of conscience were terrible. But the more desperate his torment, the more he hardened himself. Nightly visions of strange horror disquieted him. Often during the darkness, the sighs and groans of his victims echoed and re-echoed in his ears. He refused to be alone at night, and under plea of illness arranged for one of his comrades of the Inner Circle to share his apartment. His brief periods of strange relenting were not mentioned to his friends, and on no account would he have had Cassia suspect them. Each short interval of moral upheaval was followed by a more desperate determination to push the persecution. To have every nerve tense with a hot pursuit for his prey had peculiar charm, and yielded a thrill of delight to that part of his nature which he thought to be himself.

Toward the last of the persecution, the flashes of goodness and moral sanity increased in frequency. Seeming to come up from within, they staggered his understanding. He reproached himself for such occasional weaknesses. Each time as they passed off he braced himself anew, and hastened to his appointed work.

The last evening of the sojourn of Saulus in the Holy City was drawing to a close, and his preparations for an early departure the next morning were complete. The day had been sultry, and the family group at the inn were upon the house-top. The full moon, which silvered the broad expanse of towers and battlements, seemed to wear a sinister and ghastly aspect; and there was a redness in its sheen which gave Saulus a slight inward shudder. The shadows cast by surrounding objects were unwontedly sharp and black, and he felt preternaturally sensitive and expectant. The stirring events of his life in the Judean capital surged in a quick torrent through his mind, as if painted upon a swiftly revolving canvas. Love, hate, joy, despair, and ambition, sprinkled with the ashes of an inner and strange remorse, danced in chaotic confusion before him. Unwelcome and forbidding enemies seemed to be prodding him from within. Had he not done his duty well?

Cassia interrupted his revery, and together they sought a retired corner as they were wont. A long converse followed. Mutual vows were exchanged and renewed, and plans made for the consummation of their union upon the return of Saulus from his campaign in Damascus. After a long-continued rehearsal of mutual visions of present and future bliss, the moment for parting was at hand. Saulus was about to arise from his seat; but with eyes suddenly fixed upon vacancy, he gave a quick gasp and sank back.

“What is it, Saulus? thou tremblest and art pale! Art thou ill? O Saulus!”

Cassia threw her fair white arms around his neck to reassure him. After a brief conflict with the unknown, but with no effort to disengage himself from her soft embrace, he replied,—

“Nay, little one! I am well! ’Twas but a passing shudder! Some disquieting fancies seize me at unwonted and inconvenient seasons.”

“O Saulus! thou art so brave and good! But thou hast not seemed well of late! O my hero! What can it be?”

“I wot not. I am persuaded that I perform every duty to which I am called in no uncertain manner. But at times, peradventure I am under a spell. My heart stands still, and my limbs shiver. I see something near at hand which is not of earth, and the darkness seems full of terrible shapes. But I spurn and defy them! It is but a passing weakness, and soon will fade out. Between my little one and the punishment of heretics my mind will be so full that no more idle fancies can steal in. See! I am well now! I am strong! Peace be with thee! ’Twill be but for a short season, little one, when behold, thou art mine, and I am thine forever!”

A final embrace, and a whispering of eternal love, and they parted.

Saulus reached his chamber in a very uncertain mood. Despite the brave words just uttered, and with his comrade soundly sleeping near by, the very silence seemed oppressive and retributive. The atmosphere was charged with malignity, and every breath feverish and bitter. He tried desperately to fasten his thoughts upon Cassia, so as to shut out dire fancies. Thus for a few moments he would perch upon empyrean heights, only to be quickly cast down into horrible chasms.

A thick mist of delirium seemed to gather in the darkness, and nameless Horrors danced around and leered at him.

“Oh, for sleep! Come, oh, come, oblivion, and blot me out! Why was I ever born? Have I a demon within me? Am I myself or It? No! Away! I dare and defy thee! O God of Israel! I serve thee, and nothing shall shake me!”

Finally, from sheer exhaustion, and in a cold sweat, he fell into a troubled sleep. But phantoms in kaleidoscopic array peopled his dreams. At length three loud raps at the door aroused him, and froze the blood in his veins. There It stood!

“O heaven! mercy! There! there! It points its bony finger at me! Guilty? No! no! I am righteous—righteous!”

He leaped from his couch, and ran to his comrade and shook him.

“Look! look! dost thou not see It?”

“I see nothing! Saulus, quiet thyself! behold all is well!”

Saulus crept back to his couch, more uncertain who and what he was than ever.

A hellish torment was within and without!

As the first faint flush of dawn entered through the casement of his chamber, turning the blackness into gray, Saulus awoke from a half-conscious despair, and, wonder of wonders, a feeling of heavenly harmony possessed his soul! Peace, like a broad, glassy river, was borne in upon him.

“Am I Saulus?”

Iridescent tints of beauty filled the room. His soul floated through, and was bathed in a symphony of harmonious sound-waves, sweeter than a thousand harps of Æolia. The atmosphere seemed charged with an impersonal and universal love, and its message was written in letters of light upon the walls of his chamber. The fragrance of roses was wafted in upon his bewildered senses. A heavenly chorus of benedictions, distant, but enchanting in quality, reached him, as though echoed and re-echoed through long corridors. He felt his soul expanding and responding, as he seemed to inhale a spirit of inspiration. An angelic visitor in white robes stood before him, and whispered, “I am Prophecy,” and with a winning smile pointed upward. What a vision! What brightness! What beauty!

“Have I died, and is this paradise? But see! It begins to fade! Stay, Oh, stay! Leave me not! No! no! no!”

It had gone, but the room was still—so still! The silence might almost be felt. What a strange calmness! The soul of Saulus was as placid as the mirror-like surface of a pool untouched by a zephyr. He heard a voice, distinct, but so low and sweet that he could not tell whether it were audible or in his soul.

“Saulus! I am the divine image within thee,—thy real self! I am spirit, and possess the deeps of thy Being. I am the quickened but unmanifest Saulus. In thy consciousness thou dost mistake a false and perverted self for me. I am yet entombed! Bid me come forth!”

The morning dawned brightly, and found Saulus as he was wont. Oh, how vivid the visions! It seemed as if he had wandered for a whole night in the infernal regions, and anon been transported for a brief morning hour to heaven. How utterly indescribable!

“What meaneth this? Oh, that I might grasp that heavenly condition! But it is gone, utterly gone!”