40. An Indulgence [or Amnesty to Prisoners on some great Festival of the Church, probably Easter].

General Amnesty.

'All the year we are bound to tread in the path of Justice, but on this day we secure our approach to the Redeemer by the path of Forgiveness. Therefore we forswear punishments of all kinds, we condemn the torture, and thus feel ourselves, in forgiving, to be more truly than ever a Judge.

'Hail to thee, O Clemency[796], patroness of the human race! thou reignest in the heavens and on the earth: and most fitting is it that, at sacred seasons like this, thou shouldest be supreme.

'Therefore, O Lictor, thou who art allowed to do with impunity the very thing for which other men are punished, put up thy axe; let it be henceforth bright, not bloody. Let the chains which have been so often wet with tears now grow rusty. The prison—that house of Pluto, in which men suffer a living death, from its foul odours, from the sound of groaning which assails their ears, from the long fastings which destroy their taste, from the heavy weights which weary their hands, from the endless darkness which makes their eyes grow dim—let the prison now be filled with emptiness. Never is it so popular as when it is seen to be deserted.

'And you, its denizens, who are thus in a manner transplanted to Heaven from Hell, avoid the evil courses which made you acquainted with its horrors. Even animals shun the things which they have once found harmful. Cattle which have once fallen into a pit seek not again the same road. The bird once snared shuns bird-lime. The pike buries himself in deep sand, that he may escape the drag-net, and when it has scraped his back leaps nimbly into the waves and expresses by his gambols his joy for his deliverance. When the wrasse[797] finds that he is caught in an osier trap, he moves himself slowly backwards till he can leave his tail protruding, that one of his fellows, perceiving his capture, may pull him out from his prison.

'So too the Sauri (?), a clever race of fish, named from their speed, when they have swum into a net, tie themselves together into a sort of rope; and then, tugging backwards with all their might, seek to liberate their fellow-prisoners.

'Many facts of the same kind would be discovered on enquiry. But my discourse must return to thee, O Gaoler. Thou wilt be miserable in the general joy, because thou art wont to derive thy gladness from the affliction of many. But as some consolation for thy groans, we leave to thee those prisoners whom the Law, for very pity's sake, cannot set free—the men found guilty of outrageous crimes, whose liberation would make barbarous deeds frequent. Over these thou mayest still exert thy power.'