“The blood of the martyrs,” declared the Christian writer Tertullian, “is the seed of the church.” Few of those martyrs, whose stories so inspired the persecuted converts of the early Christian centuries, could match that of Perpetua, a young woman whose prison diary provides a highly personal account of her arrest and trial.25

Born in 181 C.E. in the North African city of Carthage, Perpetua hailed from an upper-class Roman family and was quite well educated, literate in Latin and probably Greek, and acquainted with Roman philosophical writings. By the time she enters the historical record at age twenty-two, she had given birth to a son, had lost her husband either to death or abandonment, and had recently begun to study Christianity, one of a small but growing group of educated people who were turning toward the new faith. Coinciding with her conversion was a wave of persecutions ordered by the Roman emperor Septimus Severus, also of North African descent and a devotee of the Egyptian cult of Isis and Osiris. Severus sought to forbid new conversions rather than punish long-established Christians. In line with this policy, in 203 C.E., the hardline governor of the region ordered the arrest of Perpetua along with four others—two slaves, one of them a woman named Felicitas who was eight months pregnant, and two free men. Before she was taken to the prison, however, Perpetua decisively confirmed her commitment to Christianity by accepting baptism.

Once in the “dark hole” of the prison, Perpetua was terrified. It was crowded and stiflingly hot, and she was consumed with anxiety for her child. Several fellow Christians managed to bribe the prison guards to permit Perpetua to nurse her baby son. Reunited with her child, she found that “my prison had suddenly become a palace, so that I wanted to be there rather than anywhere else.”

A few days later, Perpetua’s deeply distressed non-Christian father arrived for a visit, hoping to persuade his only daughter to recant her faith and save her life and the family’s honor. It was a heart-breaking encounter. “Daughter,” he said, “have pity on my grey head. . . . Do not abandon me to be the reproach of men. Think of your brothers, think of your mother and your aunt, think of your child, who will not be able to live once you are gone. Give up your pride! You will destroy all of us! None of us will ever be able to speak freely again if anything happens to you.” Firm in her faith, Perpetua refused his entreaties and she reported that “he left me in great sorrow.”

On the day of her trial, with her distraught father in attendance, the governor Hilarianus also begged Perpetua to consider her family and renounce her faith by offering a sacrifice to the emperor. Again she refused and together with her four companions was “condemned to the beasts,” a humiliating form of execution normally reserved for the lower classes. Although she was now permanently separated from her child, she wrote that “we returned to the prison in high spirits.” During her last days in the prison, Perpetua and the others were treated “more humanely,” allowed to visit with family and friends, as the head of the jail was himself a Christian.

But then, on the birthday of the emperor, this small band of Christians was marched to the amphitheater, “joyfully as though they were going to heaven,” according to an eyewitness account. After the prisoners strenuously and successfully resisted dressing in the robes of pagan priests, the three men were sent into the arena to contend with a boar, a bear, and a leopard. Then it was the turn of the women, Perpetua and the slave Felicitas, who had given birth only two days earlier. When a mad cow failed to kill them, a soldier was sent to finish the work. As he approached Perpetua, he apparently hesitated, but as an eyewitness account put it, “she took the trembling hand of the young gladiator and guided it to her throat.” Appended to her diary was this comment from an unknown observer: “It was as though so great a woman, feared as she was by the unclean spirit, could not be dispatched unless she herself were willing.”

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