1 - Documenta Catholica Omnia

0347-0420- Hieronymus - Epistolæ LETTER I.
TO INNOCENT.
Not only the first of the letters but probably the earliest extant
composition of Jerome (c. 370 A. D.). Innocent, to whom it is addressed,
was one of the little band of enthusiasts whom Jerome gathered round him in
Aquileia. He followed his friend to Syria, where he died in 374 A.D. (See
Letter III., 3.)
1. You have frequently asked me, dearest Innocent, not to pass over in
silence the marvellous event which has happened in our own day. I have
declined the task from modesty and, as I now feel, with justice, believing
myself to be incapable of it, at once because bureau language is inadequate
to the divine praise, and because inactivity, acting like rust upon the
intellect, has dried up any little power of expression that I have ever
had. You in reply urge that in the things of God we must look not at the
work which we are able to accomplish, but at the spirit in which it is
undertaken, and that he can never be at a loss for words who has believed
on the Word.
2. What, then, must I do? The task is beyond me, and yet I dare not decline
it. I am a mere unskilled passenger, and I find myself placed in charge of
a freighted ship. I have not so much as handled a rowboat on a lake, and
now I have to trust myself to the noise and turmoil of the Euxine. I see
the shores sinking beneath the horizon, "sky and sea on every side";(1)
darkness lowers over the water, the clouds are black as night, the waves
only are white with foam. You urge me to hoist the swelling sails, to
loosen the sheets, and to take the helm. At last I obey your commands, and
as charity can do all things, I will trust in the Holy Ghost to guide my
course, and I shall console myself, whatever the event. For, if our ship is
wafted by the surf into the wished-for haven, I shall be content to be told
that the pilotage was poor. But, if through my unpolished diction we run
aground amid the rough cross-currents of language, you may blame my lack of
power, but you will at least recognize my good intentions.
3. To begin, then: Vercellae is a Ligurian town, situated not far from the
base of the Alps, once important, but now sparsely peopled and fallen into
decay. When the consular(1) was holding his visitation there, a poor woman
and her paramour were brought before him--the charge of adultery had been
fastened upon them by the husband--and were both consigned to the penal
horrors of a prison. Shortly after an attempt was made to elicit the truth
by torture, and when the blood-stained hook smote the young man's livid
flesh and tore furrows in his side, the unhappy wretch sought to avoid
prolonged pain by a speedy death. Falsely accusing his own passions, he
involved another in the charge; and it appeared that he was of all men the
most miserable, and that his execution was just inasmuch as he had left to
an innocent woman no means of self-defence. But the woman, stronger in
virtue if weaker in sex, though her frame was stretched upon the rack, and
though her hands, stained with the filth of the prison, were tied behind
her, looked up to heaven with her eyes, which alone the torturer had been
unable to bind, and while the tears rolled down her face, said: "Thou art
witness, Lord Jesus, to whom nothing is hid, who triest the reins and the
heart.(2) Thou art witness that it is not to save my life that I deny this
charge. I refuse to lie because to lie is sin. And as for you, unhappy man,
if you are bent on hastening your death, why must you destroy not one
innocent person, but two? I also, myself, desire to die. I desire to put
off this hated body, but not as an adulteress. I offer my neck; I welcome
the shining sword without fear; yet I will take my innocence with me. He
does not die who is slain while purposing so to live."
4. The consular, who had been feasting his eyes upon the bloody spectacle,
now, like a wild beast, which after once tasting blood always thirsts for
it, ordered the torture to be doubled, and cruelly gnashing his teeth,
threatened the executioner with like punishment if he failed to extort from
the weaker sex a confession which a man's strength had not been able to
keep back.
5. Send help, Lord Jesus. For this one creature of Thine every species of
torture is devised. She is bound by the hair to a stake, her whole body is
fixed more firmly than ever on the rack; fire is brought and applied to her
feet; her sides quiver beneath the executioner's probe; even her breasts do
not escape. Still the woman remains unshaken; and, triumphing in spirit
over the pain of the body, enjoys the happiness of a good conscience, round
which the tortures rage in vain.(1) The cruel judge rises, overcome with
passion. She still prays to God. Her limbs are wrenched from their sockets
she only turns her eyes to heaven. Another confesses what is thought their
common guilt. She, for the confessor's sake, denies the confession, and, in
peril of her own life, clears one who is in peril of his.
6. Meantime she has but one thing to say "Beat me, burn me, tear me, if you
will; I have not done it. If you will not believe my words, a day will come
when this charge shall be carefully sifted. I have One who will judge me."
Wearied out at last, the torturer sighed in response to her groans; nor
could he find a spot on which to inflict a fresh wound. His cruelty
overcome, he shuddered to see the body he had torn. Immediately the
consular cried, in a fit of passion, "Why does it surprise you, bystanders,
that a woman prefers torture to death? It takes two people, most assuredly,
to commit adultery; and I think it more credible that a guilty woman should
deny a sin than that an innocent young man should confess one."
7. Like sentence, accordingly, was passed on both, and the condemned pair
were dragged to execution. The entire people poured out to see the sight;
indeed, so closely were the gates thronged by the out-rushing crowd, that
you might have fancied the city itself to be migrating. At the very first
stroke of the sword the head of the hapless youth was cut off, and the
headless trunk rolled over in its blood. Then came the woman's turn. She
knelt down upon the ground, and the shining sword was lifted over her
quivering neck. But though the headsman summoned all his strength into his
bared arm, the moment it touched her flesh the fatal blade stopped short,
and, lightly glancing over the skin, merely grazed it sufficiently to draw
blood. The striker saw, with terror, his hand unnerved, and, amazed at his
defeated skill and at his drooping sword, he whirled it aloft for another
stroke. Again the blade fell forceless on the woman, sinking harmlessly on
her neck, as though the steel feared to touch her. The enraged and panting
officer, who had thrown open his cloak at the neck to give his full
strength to the blow, shook to the ground the brooch which clasped the
edges of his mantle, and not noticing this, began to poise his sword for a
fresh stroke. "See," cried the woman, "a jewel has fallen from your
shoulder. Pick up what you have earned by hard toil, that you may not lose
it."
8. What, I ask, is the secret of such confidence as this? Death draws near,
but it has no terrors for her. When smitten she exults, and the executioner
turns pale. Her eyes see the brooch, they fail to see the sword. And, as if
intrepidity in the presence of death were not enough, she confers a favor
upon her cruel foe. And now the mysterious Power of the Trinity rendered
even a third blow vain. The terrified soldier, no longer trusting the
blade, proceeded to apply the point to her throat, in the idea that though
it might not cut, the pressure of his hand might plunge it into her flesh.
Marvel unheard of through all the ages! The sword bent back to the hilt,
and in its defeat looked to its master, as if confessing its inability to
slay.
9. Let me call to my aid the example of the three children,(1) who, amid
the cool, encircling fire, sang hymns,(2) instead of weeping, and around
whose turbans and holy hair the flames played harmlessly. Let me recall,
too, the story of the blessed Daniel,(3) in whose presence, though he was
their natural prey, the lions crouched, with fawning tails and frightened
mouths. Let Susannah also rise in the nobility of her faith before the
thoughts of all; who, after she had been condemned by an unjust sentence,
was saved through a youth inspired by the Holy Ghost.(4) In both cases the
Lord's mercy was alike shewn; for while Susannah was set free by the judge,
so as not to die by the sword, this woman, though condemned by the judge,
was acquitted by the sword.
10. Now at length the populace rise in arms to defend the woman. Men and
women of every age join in driving away the executioner, shouting round him
in a surging crowd. Hardly a man dares trust his own eyes. The disquieting
news reaches the city close at hand, and the entire force of constables is
mustered. The officer who is responsible for the execution of criminals
bursts from among his men, and,
Staining his hoary hair with soiling dust, exclaims: "What! citizens, do
you mean to seek my life? Do you intend to make me a substitute for her?
However much your minds are set on mercy, and however much you wish to save
a condemned woman, yet assuredly I--I who am innocent--ought not to
perish." His tearful appeal tells upon the crowd, they are all benumbed by
the influence of sorrow, and an extraordinary change of feeling is
manifested. Before it had seemed a duty to plead for the woman's life, now
it seemed a duty to allow her to be executed.