Jovinian: A Story of the Early Days of Papal Rome

When the procession first emerged from the temple, close to where Gaius walked was seen a powerful Numidian slave, holding by the hand a young and handsome boy. Every now and then Gaius glanced at the latter, apparently to observe what so imposing a scene was producing on his mind. The boy appeared to pay but little attention to the pageant; but though he did not struggle, he walked as one who felt himself a captive, and his eye ranged eagerly over the countenances of the spectators, especially on those who stood far back in the crowd, as if he were searching for some one with whom he desired to speak. He made but short replies to the slave, who seemed to take pleasure in telling him the names of the temples, and describing the attributes of those gods to whom they were dedicated. At length, when the temple of Jupiter, on the Capitoline Hill, was reached, and Gaius stood, with others of the pontiffs, on the steps, the Numidian led the boy to a position behind his master, where he could see all that was going forward. The victims had been slain, and their entrails were still burning, when, at a sign from Gaius, the Numidian brought forward the lad.

“This must have been an interesting sight for you, my dear Jovinian,” said Gaius to his nephew; “let me see that you appreciate it. Come, you shall have the privilege of taking part in the sacrifice. A flamen will give you some incense: cast it on the altar; the act is a simple one, and will prove a grateful offering to the Immortals.”

“I would obey you, uncle, in all the things of life,” answered Jovinian firmly; “but understand that the God we Christians adore is a spirit, and desires to be worshipped from the heart in spirit and in truth, and that the offering of incense, even to Him, is offensive as it is vain; much more so is it when burnt in honour of those who are no gods, but the foolish imaginings of ignorant men; and I will not do what is displeasing to Him, and would bitterly grieve the heart of my beloved mother, could she see me.”

“Boy! boy! how dare you use language such as this to me, a Roman pontiff!” exclaimed Gaius, becoming angry; then, after a moment, resuming his calm demeanour, he continued, “What folly is this, that you should object to so trifling an act as that I wish you to perform!”

“No act, however trifling, if offensive to the true God, can be performed without sin,” answered Jovinian. “I am told that thousands submitted to be torn to pieces, or crucified, or to be slain by gladiators, in yonder Flavian amphitheatre, rather than act as you would have me do.”

“Remember, Jovinian, that I have the power to compel you to do as I desire,” said Gaius; “it is not for my own pleasure, but to satisfy the scruples of my principal, and to prove that you are a true child of ancient Rome.”

“Uncle, I will not do this sinful thing,” answered the boy, in a tone of determination in which Gaius had never before heard him speak. “You may order the Numidian to flog me, you may refuse me food, or have me put to death with any tortures you can devise, but I tell you I possess a strength beyond my own. It is that which God gives to those who trust Him. He is omnipotent, and nothing human can withstand His power. Therefore, I say again, you cannot compel me.”

Gaius was astonished at the bold answer of his young relative, and was afraid to press the point, lest the bystanders might overhear the conversation. He accordingly judged it prudent to commit him again to the care of the Numidian, directing the slave, as he valued his life, not to let the boy escape. Meantime the augurs had been examining with sagacious looks the entrails of the slain animals, and soon unanimously announced with authoritative voices that the gods were pleased with the liberal sacrifices offered to them, and that, undoubtedly, as long as Rome itself should stand, their ancient faith would continue, in spite of the assaults made on it by the Christians and other atheists. The vast multitude shouted loudly at the announcement, their cries being taken up by those who stood at the eastern brink of the Capitoline Hill, and echoed by the masses who thronged the streets along the Forum even to the Flavian Amphitheatre, where many remained to watch the return of the procession to the spot whence it had set out. The carcases of the beasts not consumed were distributed liberally among the families of the inferior flamens and servitors at the temples, the begging priests pushing eagerly forward to get a share of the flesh, of which there was enough to supply large numbers of the people. Coecus, again marshalling his forces, led the way from the temple, the various performers following in due order. “This day’s work, as I foretold would be the case, has been a success, Gaius,” he observed to the younger pontiff, as with stately step they marched along through the Forum. “We must devise others of a similar nature to amuse the populace, and use every effort to win back those of the patricians who are showing indifference to the worship of the gods. Provided we employ proper measures, they can be as easily gulled as the ignorant multitude; but we must suit the bait to the nature of the birds to be caught.”

“I feel not so certain of success. Those who have once adopted the principles of the Nazarenes are not likely to be won back again,” answered Gaius. “I have lately had an example of the obstinacy of these people; they are not to be influenced by persuasion or dread of consequences. We know how they behaved in former ages; and even when Diocletian found that they were dangerous to the state, and allowed them to receive the punishment they deserved, they still persevered in propagating their faith, unmoved by the dread of the fate awaiting them. Then what can we expect now that the emperor patronises them, and, as it is reported, actually professes to have become a Christian?”

“By Bacchus! then we must find another mode of acting,” said Coecus. “If we cannot destroy, we can corrupt their faith, and, depend on it, success will attend our efforts.”

Meantime young Jovinian, attended by the Numidian, had returned to his uncle’s abode. Gaius, taking the hint from Coecus, still hoped to win over his nephew, for whom he entertained all the affection a man of his nature was capable of feeling. Observing that the boy suffered from confinement, he allowed him to take walks through the city, closely attended by the Numidian Eros – who was charged, however, to keep a strict watch on him, that he might be prevented from making his escape or communicating with any of his mother’s Christian friends.

Chapter Five.

The Young Captive

Jovinian was treated with much consideration by his uncle Gaius. He enjoyed the privilege of a room to himself, in which he could read without interruption, and to which his meals were generally carried. When, however, he went to the door, he found the Numidian, or another slave who acted as his assistant, stretched on a mat at the entrance, or seated on a stool close at hand. He had thus evidence that he was treated as a captive, and suspected of being desirous of making his escape. He was abundantly supplied with books, – Horace, Virgil, and Ovid for lighter reading, and translations of the works of Plato and his disciples for his more serious studies. But beautiful as was the language, he turned from them with disgust, so full of sophistries did they appear. There was one book which he took up with greater satisfaction than all the others. He had obtained it when out walking one day with Eros, and the Numidian’s watchful eye was for a short period averted from him. While gazing at a spectacle exhibited in one of the temples, Jovinian had recognised his friend the presbyter Amulius, who was coming quickly towards him. Before Eros had looked round, Amulius had slipped into his hand a roll of parchment; he immediately concealed it in his bosom. He was on the point of whispering, “Oh, take me with you!” and stretching out his hand to his relative, when Eros turned round. The Numidian seemed to have suspected his design, for he immediately grasped him by the arm, and took care for the remainder of the walk not to withdraw his eye from him.

On reaching home, Jovinian eagerly examined the roll. He discovered, to his delight, that it was the Gospel written by the apostle John. The roll contained another small piece of vellum, on which were written some lines from Amulius, urging him to practise the gift of patience, and to remain firm to the principles delivered to him by his beloved mother. Henceforth the book was his constant study, and from its page he drew consolation and instruction. One morning Eros, entering his chamber, inquired whether he was disposed to go out and enjoy the air. He thankfully agreed to the proposal, and having concealed his precious volume beneath his dress, he accompanied the Numidian. It was a day on which one of the numerous festivals held in honour of the gods was being celebrated in the city. The streets were thronged by persons of all ranks and ages, the shrines as usual lighted up and decorated with flowers, the lower order of priests were going about collecting contributions for their temples, and holding up the small images of their gods. They were passing the temple of Bellona, the Isis of the Egyptians, when Eros, grasping Jovinian’s arm, pulled him in.

“Here is a scene worth witnessing,” he observed; “see how devoted are the worshippers of the great goddess.”

Unlike most of the other temples, it was enclosed by walls to exclude the light of day. Following the windings of a narrow passage, the Numidian and the reluctant youth found themselves in a gallery within the temple, which appeared shrouded in gloom, except at the further end, where, above the altar, was seen, surrounded by pale lights, the statue of the goddess standing on a crescent moon, holding a globe in her hand; while before her were several closely-shorn, bare-footed priests, habited in linen garments, now bending low before her, now lifting up their hands in the attitude of prayer, while the whole area was filled with a multitude of persons in rapid motion, from whom issued cries and groans, above which could be distinguished the sound of the whips echoing through the edifice.

For some minutes, Jovinian’s eye, unaccustomed to the darkness, could not see what was taking place; but at length he perceived that all the persons below him were armed with whips, with which they were unmercifully flagellating, not each other, but their own bodies stripped naked to the waist. Some, from their dark skins, were apparently Egyptians, but many among them were evidently Romans. Now some of the priests, throwing off their robes, and seizing whips, which lay beside the altar, joined the mad throng, shouting and encouraging them to perseverance in the extraordinary performance. While this scene was enacting, several other persons appeared, issuing from doors on either side of the altar. Among them, Jovinian, to his surprise, distinguished his uncle Gaius, with Coecus and other pontiffs, who stood by, while a flamen, with his back to the people, lifted up his hands above his head, as if offering sacrifice to the goddess.

“What can induce those people thus to torment themselves?” asked Jovinian. “It appears to me as if they had all gone mad together!”

“Know you not that we stand in the temple of the Queen of Heaven, the most ancient goddess known to mortals?” exclaimed the Numidian. “These, her votaries, are thus inflicting pain on their bodies to purify themselves from sin, and be able to approach her shrine and merit her approval and affection.”

“Can it be possible that people are so ignorant as to suppose that any being of a divine nature can take pleasure in mortal suffering?” asked Jovinian. “How different must she be to the true God, so full of mercy and loving-kindness, who delights in showering blessings on His worshippers! Let us go hence; I can no longer stay to witness such egregious folly and wickedness.”

Still the Numidian seemed inclined to linger; but Jovinian, breaking from him, made his way towards the passage by which they had entered, and Eros was compelled to follow for fear of losing sight of his charge. Jovinian breathed more freely when he got into the open air. He was too much lost in thought to make any further remark to his companion. As they proceeded on their walk they passed numerous shrines, before each of which Eros stopped, and lifting up his hands, invoked the idol, seeming to care very little which of the gods or goddesses it represented.

“Can those marble figures render you any service, think you?” asked Jovinian, as they walked on.

“I know not; but my betters say so, and it is as well to be on the safe side,” answered the Numidian, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But suppose they represent demons instead of divine beings, if you invoke them they are more likely to do you harm than good; and knowing, as I do, that there is but one true, all-powerful God, I am sure that He does not allow any inferior creatures to interfere between Him and man,” replied Jovinian. “We, who are His children through faith in His Son, can go direct to Him in prayer, requiring no other intercessor but our Lord and Master, nor any symbol to aid us in worshipping Him.”

“Yours seems a very simple faith; and if I thought that the one great and all-powerful God of whom you speak would hear my prayers and grant them, I would cease to worship all the gods and goddesses, whose very names I have a difficulty in remembering, and would trust only to Him,” answered Eros.

“You would act most wisely and happily for yourself,” said Jovinian. “Come with me into yonder building; I see several persons entering who, by their dress and demeanour, I know to be Christians.”

Eros made no objection. The edifice was enclosed by a wall, which shut out those within from public gaze. Passing through a door, they entered a spacious hall capable of containing several hundred persons. No statues nor pictures were to be seen; at the further end was a raised desk, at which stood a lector or reader, while a higher desk at the same part of the building, formed like a rostrum, served for the preacher who was to address the congregation. In the centre stood a long table, with seats round it, while the remainder of the area was filled with benches in rows, so arranged that their occupants could look towards the lector and preacher. The building was filling fast; in a few minutes all the seats were occupied. Shortly afterwards an aged man, habited in a toga, entering, took his seat on a chair close to the rostrum; then, standing up, after a minute of silent prayer, he gave out a hymn, in which the whole of the congregation joined. Portions of the Gospel and Epistles were read; a prayer was then offered up, in which all the congregation joined. After another hymn, the presbyter ascended the rostrum, and delivered an address. It explained simply the principles of the Christian faith, and the plan of salvation offered by God to sinful man. Eros listened attentively, and drank in every word. He sighed when it terminated. Another hymn having been sung, the congregation began to separate.

“Would that I could hear more of it!” the slave observed to Jovinian; “after this I can never again pray to the stocks and stones which I have hitherto called my gods.”

“You can come as often as you like; and there are several other places in Rome where assemblies of the faithful are wont to be held, thanks to the liberality of the emperor, who allows the Christians to meet everywhere as they desire,” said Jovinian. “But I would urge you to speak forthwith to the presbyter who delivered the discourse, or to the venerable overseer who presided; or, if you would prefer it, I would take you to the house of my relative Amulius. He is always ready to give instruction; and there are some, I fear, holding false doctrines, who would mislead you as to the principles of our holy faith.”

“What, do you Christians differ from each other in your belief?” asked the Numidian, in a tone of surprise.

“Alas! I am told that there are many who call themselves Christians, holding opinions contrary to those taught by the Holy Scriptures,” said Jovinian; “but they differ greatly one from the other. Such was the case even in the time of the apostles, and we cannot expect it to be otherwise at present, when men in their pride of reason refuse to submit themselves to the plain teaching of Christ.”

“You appear to have thought much on these subjects, for one so young,” observed the Numidian.

“I have been well instructed by those who know the truth, and have ever sought guidance from God’s Holy Spirit,” answered Jovinian.

Eros was silent; he was pondering deeply on what he had heard.

Jovinian, on his return to the college, retired to his room. Gaius was still absent; he was too much engaged when he returned, fortunately for Jovinian, to question him as to where he had been during his walk. The pontiff was acute enough to discover that he was not likely to win his nephew over to a belief in idolatry; but he hoped, by giving him the writings of the Greek philosophers, and of their numerous disciples and imitators of the present time, so to draw his mind away from the truth that he might be willing to enter into his schemes, and to become in reality a sceptic in all religious matters, as he was himself, with one exception: if, indeed, he had any belief, it was in the great goddess of Babylon – Astarte or Ashtaroth, the Queen of Heaven – whose worship, having spread through Asia into Egypt, had, with that of her son Horos, long been established in Italy under different names. In Egypt she was known as Isis, in Rome as Bellona. He, as was the case with the other pontiffs, had long been initiated into her mysteries, and he trusted that in time his nephew would be qualified to become one of her votaries. Her worship had, indeed, ever been the most popular, and provided that could be maintained, he felt sure that it would successfully oppose the two principles of the Christian faith, which he understood to consist in the belief of one God and one mediator between God and man. He was not aware of the power of simple faith when he thus entertained hopes of winning over his nephew, or that Jovinian went daily to the fountain-head to seek for that strength he so much needed in order to resist the temptations presented to him. Jovinian soon discovered the tendency of the works his uncle gave him, and as he read he sought for grace to refute their sophistries; nor did he seek in vain. He found, however, that it was wise not to enter into discussions with Gaius, who fully believed that ere long his nephew’s faith would be completely overcome. The pontiff now began to open his views to Jovinian, and to excite his ambition with the prospect, should he follow his advice, of becoming great and powerful, and ruling his fellow-creatures through their superstition, he frequently invited him out, taking the precaution to have a slave following close at hand to stop him should he attempt to escape, though he believed that there was now little probability of his doing so. At length, so complete was the confidence he placed in him, that he allowed him to be present at the councils of the pontiffs, where, seated, his book in hand, at the further end of the hall, his presence was not observed. Jovinian, very naturally, did not object to this, nor could he fail to be interested in the discussions he frequently overheard.

Chapter Six.

A Debate

At length, one evening, the whole of the pontiffs of the sacred college were assembled, and it was evident from their manner that a matter of more than usual importance was to be brought forward. The gods being invoked, and the usual forms hurried over, Coecus, who acted as president, rose.

“Friends and brother pontiffs,” he began, “disastrous news has reached me. You well know that the emperor has long been favourable to the Christians. He has now openly declared himself a convert to their faith. His motive it is easy to perceive: he considers that the Christians throughout the empire already outnumber the followers of the ancient faith; and perchance he hopes to obtain pardon from the God of the Christians for the murder of his son, the hapless Crispus, of his wife, the traduced Fausta, of his nephew, and brother-in-law, Licinius, and the many others his jealousy has doomed to death. Be that as it may, his acts show enmity to the ancient faith; he has already in the East destroyed numerous temples of the gods, and prohibited the celebration of many of those august mysteries which have existed from time immemorial. Holding, as he does, the office of Pontifex Maximus, putting us and our holy college on one side, he has taken upon himself the right to raise the ministers of the Christians to high ranks and dignities, and has issued edicts accordingly, so that from henceforth those men whom we have hitherto looked down upon will, claiming the authority of the emperor, vaunt it over us; and, what is of more consequence, will obtain the revenues which have hitherto flowed into our coffers; while we, neglected and degraded, must sink into insignificance. Are we, I ask, my friends, tamely to submit to such treatment? Are no means to be found to arrest the progress of this pestiferous religion, which so many of wealth and rank are eagerly embracing, and which, now it has become fashionable at court, will still further increase? Can no one suggest a scheme by which we may retain our office, and still, as of yore, govern the minds of the multitude? Unless some plan can be devised, I warn you all that our course is run, and penury and neglect must be our lot.”

Silence followed the address of Coecus – a groan alone now and then escaping from the bosoms of the pontiffs; for they had not watched the rapid increase of the Christian faith among all ranks without being conscious that the system which they supported was tottering to its base. At length, one by one, they broke silence; but their proposals were treated as vain and useless by the sagacious Coecus.

“We have but one resource, my friends,” he answered; “far from giving way to despair, I feel confident that it will succeed, if carried out with due wisdom and secrecy. But we must be united, and by forming strict rules for our guidance, we shall still retain our power and influence, and govern the minds, not only of the people of Rome, but of those of the nations subject to her. We ourselves must become Christians! Some few may doubt our conversion, but the great mass will gladly welcome us, and continue to pay us the honour we have hitherto received. I say not this till after profound reflection. Our sacred college will still exist, and by the exertion of our influence, we shall obtain the appointment of the bishops and presbyters of the Christians, chosen either from our own body or from among such men as we shall find ready to support us. We shall have but to change the names of the gods. Already have many of the Christians begun to worship those whom they esteem holy or who were put to death in the times of Nero, Diocletian, and other emperors. Their folly will greatly facilitate our object, and it will matter little to us under what names the immortal gods are worshipped. We may, by proper caution, induce them to adore our own great goddess, the Queen of Heaven, – she who has been, shall be, and whose mysterious existence none among mortals can comprehend. Be it known to you, my friends, that He whom these Nazarenes worship, the Prophet of Nazareth, was, they say, born of a woman; and surely, as they adore Him, so may they easily be induced to adore His mother; and it appears to me that they can be led away from the worship they pay to Him, to offer it to one whom we would present to them in the place of that human mother. Thus shall we by degrees wean them from the faith they now hold, – if we cannot openly oppose the progress of this new religion, we can corrupt it, – and if the gods and goddesses of ancient Rome are overthrown, we can place other objects of worship in their stead, or re-name them, rather, from the persons whom the Christians are wont to regard with respect. Those who have been taught to worship a dead Caesar will as willingly fall down before the statue of a woman whom they consider a saint; thus it will give us but little trouble to change the religious observances and ceremonies to which the people have been accustomed to suit the new religion. Let us not, then, give way to despair: Rome will continue, as of yore, faithful to the worship of the ancient gods, and we, their priests, shall retain our power and influence.”