The Senators

Our next martyrdom will be a scene from the horrors of the reign of the Emperor Commodus. A more worthless tyrant could not have sat on the imperial throne. His insane ambition urged him to the assumption of divine honours. Not content with this, he had a throne erected in the midst of the Senate, and clothing himself in a lion's skin, and carrying a great club in his hand, he commanded the senators to offer sacrifice to him as if he were Hercules, the son of Jupiter. He issued a decree summoning a general assembly of the Senate in the Temple of the Earth. A crier was sent to all the neighboring towns and villages to publish the decree, and all were to attend under pain of death. The people even in Rome itself were not aware of the cause of this extraordinary assembly of the Senate. They imagined that some terrible calamity was threatening the Empire, that a formidable revolution had broken out, and that the tide of war had rolled up to the very gates of the imperial city. The senators believing their counsel and advice were required for the public good, hastened in from their suburban retreats, and although in the middle of the summer heats, left their villas and farms and families, and poured in hundreds along the dusty Via Tiburtina and the sepulchral Appian and Latin Ways.

From the time of Augustus, the ordinary proceedings of the Senate commenced by sacrificing to Jupiter or Victory, whose statue was placed in their halls. Hence, as Baronius says (anno 192), no senator could remain a member of the body after he had become a Christian ; he was obliged to renounce the title or withdraw himself by voluntary exile.

The monstrous absurdities of Commodus, and the zeal of the Christians, led many of the pagans to the fold of the Church. We find in the Acts of Eusebius and his companions, that they went through the streets appealing to the ridicule and shame of the people. The sublime doctrines and morality of Christianity were at all times more beautiful and more powerful than the ridiculous and unmeaning worship of paganism. When the command was sent forth for them to worship a wretch like Commodus, many opened their eyes to the folly of their idolatry yielded to the call of grace, and became Christians. Amongst these were some of the senators. Apollonius and Julius appear on the list of the undaunted men who dared to deny the divinity of the Emperor. The sword was the only thunder the revengeful god could command and he used it to show his weakness. Apollonius suffered about three years before Julius. His martyrdom did not take place in the Coliseum, but we will translate an interesting paragraph about him from the Fifth Book of Eusebius, as quoted by Baronius under the year 189. After speaking of the peace which the Church enjoyed before this time, he adds :—

"But this peace was not pleasing to the devil, he endeavored to disturb us by many stratagems; and he succeeded in bringing to judgment and trial Apollonius, a man most celebrated amongst the faithful for his studies of polite literature and philosophy. One of his servants, a depraved wretch, was induced to betray him (for which he suffered severely). When the martyr, most dear to God, was asked by the judge to give his fellow fathers of the Senate a reason for embracing Christianity, he read for them a long and learned apology for the faith of Christ; but they pronounced sentence against him, and he lost his life by a stroke of the axe; for there was an old law amongst them that any Senator that was accused of being a Christian, and would not change his profession, was no longer free."

The morning of the grand assembly of the Senate had  arrived. The city was alive with excitement. The venerable leaders of the community were full of hope that a  better time was coming, that they were about to be restored to their ancient rights. It was the first time in this reign that they had been solemnly called together, and these meetings had become exceedingly rare. Each senator, attired in his best laticlave, brought his children with him to the temple of the goddess of the Earth, which stood under the shadow of the lofty arches of the amphitheatre. Along the Via Sacra, and around the triumphal arch of Titus, little knots of white-bearded senators were discussing the probable cause that induced the Emperor to reinstate the Senate. Some said it was fear, because of the death of Perrenius, their chief, and the warning the gods had given him, made him anxious to conciliate the Senate by restoring them to their power in the Empire. "I was present," said an aged citizen, to some of his friends, who had just come from Tiburtium, "when in the midst of the entertainments of the theatre a stranger suddenly entered. He was dressed as a philosopher, with the staff of a pilgrim in his hand, and a bag flung over his shoulder. Approaching the throne of the Emperor, and commanding silence with his hand, 'This is not the time, Commodus,' spoke the stranger, 'to indulge in theatrical shows and vain delights', for the sword of Perrenius hangs over thy head, and if thou dost not take care, thou art already lost ; for he has bribed thy enemies, and corrupted the army in Illyria. Tremble, for danger is at thy door!' The Emperor trembled indeed," continued the aged senator; " and to appease him, we all cried out, ' Death to Perrenius!' He was slain, but the Emperor has never been the same since that day. He has become more cruel, more suspicious and unbearable: and I greatly suspect he has some deep plot in calling us together here to-day. I come with my trusty dagger! " Saying this, he drew a beautifully gilt poniard from under the folds of his toga, and showed it to his companion as one of the treasures left him by his grandsires.

The speaker was the same who drew his dagger some time afterwards under one of the arches of the Coliseum and brandishing it in the face of Gommodus, exclaimed, "Behold what the Senate has prepared for you!"

Another said he thought it was because the terrible plague, that had broken out in Etruria and Cisalpine Gaul, was fast extending towards the city, and bearing desolation in its path. He had heard that the Supreme Pontiff of the Capitol had suggested sacrifices to the angry Jove, he thought that, perhaps, the Senate might have been assembled for that purpose.

"Not at all," interrupted a tall, thin senator, who was dressed as a military commander, who seemed a man of great importance, and spoke with a sarcastic smile, "not at all, he thinks more of the harlots of his baths and lupanars than of his suffering subjects. It is money he wants. I heard from his comptroller that he hasn't an obolus to pay Charon for his ferry over the Styx. Sacrifice! why, it will be only to offer sacrifice to himself, as the god Hercules and the son of Jupiter." They all laughed as if he had made a good joke ; but a young man near him, who was silent and thoughtful during the conversation, felt a thrill of horror pass through him as Vitellius, the commander of the foot, spoke. He concealed his indignation, and they all moved together towards the temple of the planetary goddess. A strange scene once took place in a lunatic asylum in England. A madman told all his companions, who were not so mad as himself, that he was God. Being a very violent character, he kept them all in fear, and they consented to call him God. One day, when there happened to be an insufficient number of attendants in the room, this madman got up on a chair and commanded all the other madmen to come and adore him. Whether through fear or frolic, they actually gathered around him and pretended to adore him. Some kissed the ground, others his feet; one said he was the Archangel Michael, and brought the homage of all the other angels ; another said he was king of the earth, and brought the  acknowledgment of all creatures. Thus the strange farce was going on, when other attendants came in, and removed the deluded man to the dismal solitude of seclusion.

This is almost precisely a picture of the terrible scene that was witnessed in Rome in the year of our Lord 192; not amongst madmen, but amongst the most educated, the most wealthy and most powerful members of the great Empire. The Temple of the Earth was dressed out with evergreens and flowers , around the walls were rude pictures representing the fabulous deeds of Hercules; an immense fire of faggots of costly wood blazed in the centre of the temple , the priests were standing by in fantastic robes of yellow and gold, and the high Pontiff held a golden tripod in his right hand ; all was ready for sacrifice. But, who was the god that had usurped the throne of the bountiful planet? It was the living Hercules clothed in a lion's skin, and holding a massive club in his hand; it was Commodus.

The senators entered one by one. They were immediately struck with fear and amazement. Some were seized with laughter, as if the whole thing were a joke, for which they afterwards paid dearly, others turned pale with consternation, for armed lictors were scattered through the temple, and the severe looks of the tyrant trying to assume the majesty of a real Hercules cast a funereal gloom over the proceedings. His diminutive figure, his bloated and ill-formed features, above all, his shameful and disgraceful life, made a sorry contrast with the splendid and gigantic hero called Hercules in the fables of mythology.

The proud wretch addressed the conscript fathers ; he declared that he had called them together for the purpose of announcing that henceforward he was to be worshipped as the son of Jupiter. No historian has left us an account of the words he used—who could chronicle such nonsense and impiety ? But the Senate, the weak, fallen Senate, went through the blasphemous farce of incense and adulation as to a god. Scenes like these frequently occurred in the great Babylon of pagan Rome, and show to what a depth man had descended in the darkness of idolatry and infidelity.

Strange as it may appear, Christianity had a long and terrible struggle with the powers of hell. Eighteen centuries have rolled over, and it is still on the battle field— by trials, tribulations, and sufferings of every stamp it is slowly but surely pushing on its standard of the cross. Its complete triumph is to be commemorated, after the last day, in heaven. But in the second century of the Church, from which we record these events, the hatred of Christianity was so intense that, notwithstanding the force of reason that sustained it, and the incontestable miracles confirming its divinity, the degraded and cowardly Senate preferred rather to worship the proud and lascivious Commodus, than to expose themselves to danger. Alas! this was true of the Senate, but there was one exception. This was Julius. Over seven hundred aged men lent themselves to the silly mockery—Julius alone liad tlie courage to express his contempt, and to refuse to bend his knee.

When it was announced to the Emperor that Julius would not come forward to offer incense to his divinity, Commodus commanded him to be brought before him by the lictors. All eyes were turned on the senator as he walked up between the lictors to the tribune of the temple, where the Emperor's throne was placed. The buzz of conversation ceased, and those who had been secretly casting ridicule and contempt on their demented ruler turned in eager silence to watch the fate of Julius.

"How have you become so mad," asked Commodus, " as not to sacrifice to Jupiter and his son Hercules?" (We quote from the Acts given by the Bollandists.) Julius seemed for a moment too indignant to answer, but looking with brave contempt on the proud tyrant, said : "You will perish like them, because you lie like them."

This was enough. The tyrant called Vitellius, the commander of the foot, and bade him take the insolent senator from his sight, exclaiming, angrily : "Confiscate his goods even to the last farthing, and scourge him until he sacrifice to our divinity."

The judgments of God are different from those of men. If our merciful and loving Father were capable of the passion of anger, and punished at the moment every insult offered to His Divine Majesty, the human race would have been long ago extinct. Cummodus could not have employed a more cruel or worthless wretch to discharge his orders than Vitellius. He had Julius led away in chains and cast into prison, most probably the Mamertine, to await his pleasure.

After some days of confinement—deprived of food and every external comfort—he was brought before Vitellius in the same temple. Julius was ordered to be brought in, naked and covered with chains. When he had come before the seat of the judge, and under the statue that the impious Commodus had erected, Vitellius said to the martyr of Christ : "Do you still persist in your folly? Will you not now obey the orders of the Emperor, and sacrifice to the gods Jupiter and his son Hercules?"

"Never!" answered Julius; "you and your prince will perish alike."

"And who will save you, and make us perish?" asked Vitellius, sarcastically.

"Jesus Christ," said Julius, raising his finger solemnly towards heaven ; adding, after a moment's pause, "He who condemns thee and thy foolish sovereign to eternal ruin." Vitellius ordered him to be taken out to the Petra Scelerata and scourged , but the body of the holy martyr was exhausted through want, and whilst the brutal executioners were beating him with their heavy whips, he expired. The wretched judge endeavoured to vent on his lifeless remains the anger and revenge that the premature death of his victim had left unsatiated; he ordered the body of Julius to be cast before the statue of the sun, and almost under the arches of the Coliseum, that the dogs might devour him, and that the people who poured into the amphitheatre might see his infamy. What could the poor people expect, when such terrible judgment was wreaked on the very senators themselves? Guards were set to watch the body, that no one might remove it, and a notice was put up on the walls of the Coliseum that he had been put to death for not sacrificing to the divinity of the great god who had just come amongst them. Angels watched over those precious relics , no insult was offered; the people trembled, and passed on. Thousands pitied the fate of the brave man who had had the courage to withstand the absurdities of the impious and cruel Emperor; greater contempt and greater hatred for the tyrant-god who thus gloried in the blood of human victims was the result produced by the cruelty of Vitellius. The following night, when the guards were asleep, Eusebius and his companions stole out from the arches of the Coliseum, and took away the remains of the holy martyr, and buried them in the catacombs or cemetery of Calepodius on the Via Aurelia. The greater portion of his body is at present in the Church of St. Ignatius in Rome.