University of Virginia Library

LETTER VII.
FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.

The body of the Christians, as you may well suppose,
Fausta, is in a state of much agitation. Though they
cannot discern plainly the form of the danger that impends,
yet they discern it; and the very obscurity in
which it is involved perhaps adds to their fears. It is
several days since I last wrote, yet not a word has come
from the palace. Aurelian is seen as usual in all public
places; at the capitol; taking charge of the erection and
completion of various public edifices; or if at the palace
he rides as hard as ever and as much upon his Hippodrome;
or if at the Pretorian camp, he is exact and
severe as ever in maintaining the discipline of the Legions.
He has issued no public order of any kind that
bears upon us. Yet not only the Christians, but the
whole city, stand as if in expectation of measures of no
little severity, going at least to the abridgement of many
of our liberties, and to the deprivation of many privileges.
This is grounded chiefly doubtless upon the reported
imprisonment of Aurelia; for though some have
little hesitation in declaring their belief that she has
been made way with, others believe it not at all, and
none can assign a reason for receiving one story rather
than another. How Isaac came to be possessed of his
information I do not know, but it bore all the marks of
truth. He would inform me neither how he came by

it, nor would he allow it to be communicated. But it
would never be surprising to discover, that of my most
private affairs he has a better knowledge than myself.

Do not, from what I have said, conceive of the Christians
as giving any signs of unmanly fear. They perceive
that danger threatens, but they change not their
manner of life, nor turn from the daily path of their
pursuits. Believing in a providence, they put their
trust in it. Their faith stands them in stead as a sufficient
support and refuge. They cannot pretend, any
more than Isaac, to see through the plans and purposes
of Heaven. They pretend not to know, nor to be able
to explain to another, why, if what they receive is the
truth and they are true believers in a true religion, they
should be exposed to such sufferings for its sake; and
that which is false, and injurious as false, should triumph.
It is enough for them, they say, to be fully
persuaded; to know and possess the truth. They can
never relinquish it; they will rather die. But whether
Christianity die with them or not they cannot tell — that
they leave to God. They do not believe that it will —
prophecy and the present condition of the world notwithstanding
a present overhanging cloud, give them
confidence in the ultimate extension and power of their
faith. At any rate it shall receive no injury at their
hands. They have professed it during twenty years of
prosperity and have boasted of it before the world — they
shall profess it with the same boldness and the same grateful
attachment now that adversity approaches. They are
fixed — calm — unmoved. Except for a deeper tone of
earnestness and feeling when you converse with them,

and a cast sadness upon the countenance, you would
discern no alteration in their conduct or manner.

I might rather say that in a very large proportion
there are observable the signs of uncommon and almost
unnatural exhilaration. They even greet the coming of
trouble as that which shall put their faith to the test,
shall give a new testimony of the readiness of Christians
to suffer, and like the former persecution, give it a
new impulse forwards. They seek occasions of controversy
and conversation with the Pagans at public places,
at their labor, and in the streets. The preachers assume
a bolder, louder tone, and declaim with ten times more
vehemence than ever against the enormities and abominations
of the popular religions. Often at the market-places,
and at the corners of the streets, are those to be
seen, not authorized preachers perhaps, but believers and
overflowing with zeal, who at the risk of whatever popular
fury and violence hold forth the truth in Christ and
denounce the reigning idolatries and superstitions.

At the head of these is Macer; at their head both as
respects the natural vigor of his understanding and the
perfect honesty and integrity of his mind, and his
dauntless courage. Every day, and all the day, is he
to be found in the streets of Rome, sometimes in one
quarter, sometimes in another, gathering an audience of
the passengers or idlers, as it may be, and sounding in
their ears the truths of the new religion. That he, and
others of the same character, deserve in all they do the
approbation of the Christian body, or receive it, is more
than can be said. They are often by their violences in
the midst of their harrangues, by harsh and uncharitable
denunciations, by false and exaggerated statements, the
causes of tumult and disorder, and contribute greatly to

increase the general exasperation against us. With
them it seems to be a maxim that all means are lawful
in a good cause. Nay, they seem rather to prefer the
ruder and rougher forms of attack. They seem possessed
of the idea that the world is to be converted in a
day and that if men will not at once relinquish the prejudices
or the faith of years, they are fit but for cursings
and burnings. In setting forth the mildest doctrine the
world ever knew, delivered to mankind by the gentlest,
and most patient, and compassionate being it ever saw,
they assume a manner and use a language so entirely
at variance with their theme, that it is no wonder if prejudices
are strengthened oftener than they are set loose,
incredulity made more incredulous, and the hardened
heart yet harder. They who hear notice the discrepancy,
and fail not to make the use of it they may. When will
men learn that the mind is a fortress that can never be
taken by storm? You may indeed enter it rudely, and
by violence, and the signs of submission shall be made:
but all the elements of opposition are still there. Reason
has not been convinced; errors and misconceptions
have not been removed, by a wise and logical and humane
dealing, and supplanted by truths well proved and shown
to be truths — and the victory is one in appearance only.
And the mere show of violence, on the part of the reformer
and assailant, begets violence on the other side.
The whole inward man, with all his feelings, prejudices,
reason, is instantly put into a posture of defence; not
only of defence, for that were right, but of angry defence,
which is wrong. Passion is up, which might otherwise
have slept; and it is passion, never reason, which truth
has to fear. The intellect in its pure form, the advocate
of truth would always prefer to meet, for he can never
feel sure of a step made till this has been gained. But
intellect, inflamed by passion, he may well dread, as
what there is but small hope even of approaching, much
less of convincing.

Often has Probus remonstrated with this order of men,
but in vain. They heed him not, but in return charge
him with coldness and indifference, worldliness, and all
other associated faults. Especially has he labored to
preserve Macer from the extremes to which he has run;
for he has seen in him as able advocate of Christian
truth, could he but be moderated and restrained. But
Macer, though he has conceived the strongest affection
for Probus, will not allow himself in this matter to be
influenced by him. He holds himself answerable to
conscience and God alone for the course he pursues. As
for the consequences that may ensue, either to himself
or his family, his mind cannot entertain them. It is for
Christ he lives, and for Christ he is ready to die.

I had long wished to meet him and witness his manner
both of acting and of acting and yesterday I was
fortunate enough to encounter him. I shall give you,
as exactly as I can, what took place; it will show you
better than many letters could do what in one direction
our position is and our prospects are.

I was in the act of crossing the great avenue which
on the south leads to the Forum, when I was arrested
by a disorderly crowd, such as we often see gathered
suddenly in the street of a city about a thief who has
been caught, or a person who has been trodden down
on the pavement. It moved quickly in the direction of
the tribunal of Varus, and what was my surprise to behold

Macer in the midst with head aloft and inflamed
countenance holding in his grasp and dragging onwards
one who would willingly have escaped. The crowd
seemed disposed, as I judged by the vituperations that
were directed against Macer to interfere, but were apparently
deterred by both the gigantic form of Macer and
their vicinity to the tribunal, whither he was going.
Waiting till they were some distance in advance of me,
I then followed, determined to judge for myself of this
singular man. I was with them in the common hall before
the prefect had taken his seat. When seated at his
tribunal he inquired the cause of the tumult, and who it
was that wished to appeal to him.

`I am the person,' said Macer; `and I come to drag
to justice this miscreant —'

`And who may you be?'

`I should think Varus might recognize Macer.'

`It is so long since I met thee last at the emperor's table,
that thy features have escaped me.'

At which, as was their duty, the attendant rabble
laughed.

`Is there any one present,' continued the prefect, `who
knows this man?'

`Varus need apply to no other than myself,' said Macer.
`I am Macer, the son of that Macer who was
neighbor of the gladiator Pollex, —'

`Hold, I say,' interrupted the prefect; `a man witnesses
not here of himself. Can any one here say that
this man is not crazy or drunk?'

`Varus! prefect Varus —' cried Macer, his eyes flashing
lightning and his voice not less than thunder; but
he was again interrupted.

`Peace, slave! or rods shall teach thee where thou
art.' And at the same moment, at a sign from Varus,
he was laid hold of with violence by officials of the
place armed with spears and rods, and held.

`What I wish to know then,' said Varus, turning to
the crowd, `is, whether this is not the street brawler,
one of the impious Gallileans, a man who should long
ago have been set in the stocks to find leisure for better
thoughts?'

Several testified, as was desired, that this was he.

`This is all I wish to know,' said the prefect. `The
man is either without wits, or they are disordered, or
else the pestilent faith he teaches has made the nuisance
of him he is, as it does of all who meddle with it. It
is scarcely right that he should be abroad. Yet has he
committed no offence that condemns him either to
scourging or the prison. Hearken therefore, fellow! I
now dismiss thee without the scourging thou well deservest;
but if thou keep on thy wild and lawless way,
racks and dungeons shall teach thee what there is in
Roman justice. Away with him!'

`Romans! Roman citizens!' cried Macer; `are
these your laws and this your judge? —'

`Away with him, I say!' cried the prefect; and the
officers of the palace hurried him out of the hall.

As he went, a voice from the crowd shouted,

`Roman citizens, Macer, are long since dead. 'T is
a vain appeal.'

`I believe you,' replied Macer; `tyrant and slave stand
now for all who once bore the proud name of Roman.'

This violence and injustice on the part of Varus must
be traced — for though capricious and imperious, this is

not his character — to the language of Macer in the
shop of Publius, and to his apprehension lest the same
references to his origin, which he would willingly have
forgotten, should be made, and perhaps more offensively
still, in the presence of the people. Probus, on the former
occasion, lamented deeply that Macer should have
been tempted to rehearse in the way he did some of the
circumstances of the prefect's history, as its only end
could be to needlessly irritate the man of power, and
raise up a bitterer enemy than we might otherwise have
found in him.

Upon leaving the tribunal, I was curious to watch still
further the movements of the Christian. The crowd
about him increased rather than diminished, as he left
the building and passed into the street. At but a little
distance from the hall of the prefect stands the Temple
of Peace, with its broad and lofty flights of steps.
When Macer had reached it he paused and looked
round upon the motley crowd that had gathered about
him.

`Go up! go up!' cried several voices. `We will
hear thee.'

`There is no prefect here,' cried another.

Macer needed no urging, but quickly strode up the
steps till he stood between the central columns of the
temple, and his audience had disposed themselves below
him in every direction, when he turned and gazed
upon the assembled people, who had now, by the addition
of such as passed along, and who had no more urgent
business than to attend to that of any others whom
they might chance to meet, grown to a multitude. After
looking upon them for the space of a minute, as if

studying their characters, and how he could best adapt
his discourse to their occasions, he suddenly and abruptly
broke out —

`You have asked me to come up here; and I am
here; glad for once to be in such a place by invitation.
And now I am here, and am about to speak to you, you
will expect me to say something of the Christians.'

`Yes, yes.'

`But I shall not — not yet. Perhaps by and by. In
the meantime my theme shall be the prefect! the prefect
Varus!'

`A subject full of matter,' cried one near Macer.

`Better send for him,' said another. `'T were a pity
he lost it.'

`Yes,' continued Macer, `it is a subject full ofmatter,
and I wish myself he were here to see himself in the
mirror I would hold before him; he could not but grow
pale with affright. You have just had a sample of Roman
justice! How do you like it, Romans? I had
gone there to seek justice; not for a Christian, but
against a Christian. A Christian master had abused
his slave with cruelty, I standing by; and when to my
remonstrance — myself feeling the bitter stripes he laid
on — he did but ply his thongs the more, I seized the
hardened monster by the neck, and wrenching from his
grasp the lash, I first plied it upon his own back and
then dragged him to the judgment-seat of Varus, —'

`O fool!'

`You say well — fool that I was, crying for justice!
How I was dealt with, some of you have seen. There,
I say, was a sample of Roman justice for you! So in
these times does power sport itself with poverty. It

was not so once in Rome. Were Cincinnatus or Regulus
at the tribunal of Varus, they would fare like the
soldier Macer. And who, Romans, is this Varus? and
why is he here in the seat of authority? At the tribunal,
Varus did not know me. But what if I were to tell
you there was but a thin wall between the rooms where
we were born, and that when we were boys we were
ever at the same school! — not such schools as you are
thinking of, where the young go for letters and for
Greek, but the school where many of you have been
and are now at I dare say, the school of Roman vice,
which you may find always open all along the streets,
but especially where I and Varus were, in one of the
sinks near the Flavian. Pollex the gladiator was father
of Varus! — not worse, but just as bad, as savage, as
beastly in his vices, as are all of that butcher tribe. My
father — Macer too — I will not say more of him than
that he was keeper of the vivaria of the amphitheatre,
and passed his days in caging and uncaging the wild
beasts of Asia and Africa; in feeding them when there
were no games on foot, and starving them when there
were. Varus the prefect, Romans, and I were at
this school till I joined the legions under Valerian, and
he, by a luckier fortune as it would be deemed, found
favor in the eyes of Gallienus, to whom, with his fair
sister Fannia, he was sold by those demons Pollex and
Cæcina. I say nothing of how it fared with him in that
keeping. Fannia has long since found the grave. Is
Varus one who should sit at the head of Rome? He is
a man of blood, of crime, of vice, such as you would not
bear to be told of! I say not this as if he were answerable
for his birth and early vice, but that, being such,
this is not his place. He could not help it, nor I, that
we were born and nurtured where we were; that the
sight of blood and the smell of it, either of men or
beasts, was never out of our eyes and nostrils, during
all our boyhood and youth; that to him and me the
sweetest pleasure of our young life was when the games
came on and the beasts were let loose upon one another;
and, O the hardening of that life! when especially there
were prisoners or captives, on which to glut their raging
hunger! Those were the days and hours marked whitest
in our calendar. And whitest of all were the days
of the Decian persecution, when the blood of thrice
cursed Christians, as I was taught to name them, flowed
like water. Every day then Varus and I had our sport;
working up the beasts by our torments to an unnatural
height of madness ere they were let loose, and then
rushing to the gratings, as the doors were thrown open,
to see the fury with which they would spring upon
their defenceless victims and tear them piecemeal.
The Romans required such servants — and we were
they. They require them now, and you may find any
number of such about the theatres. But if there must
be such there, why should they be taken thence and put
upon the judgment-seat? save for the reason that they
may have been thoroughly purged as it were by fire —
which Varus has not. What with him was necessary
and forced when young, is now chosen and voluntary.
Vice is now his by election. Now I ask why has the
life of Varus been such? and why, being such, is he
here? Because you are so! Yes, because you are all
like him! It is you, Roman citizens, who rear the theatres,
the circuses, and the thousand temples of vice,
which crowd the streets of Rome, —'

`No, no! it is the emperors.'

`But who made the emperors? You Romans of these
times, are a race of cowards and slaves, and it is therefore
that tyrants rule over you. Were you freemen,
with the souls of freemen in you, do you think you
would bear as you do — and love and glory in the yoke—
this rule of such creatures as Varus, and others whom
it were not hard to name? I know what you are — for
I have been one of you. I have not been, nor am I
now, hermit, as you may think, being a Christian. A
Christian is a man of the world — a man of action and
of suffering — not of rest and sleep. I have ever been
abroad among men, both before I was a Christian and
since; and I know what you are. You are of the same
stamp as Varus! nay, start not, nor threaten with your
eyes, — I fear you not. If you were not so, why, I say,
is Varus there? You know that I speak the truth.
The people of Rome are corrupt as their rulers! How
should it be much otherwise? You are fed by the largesses
of the emperor, you have your two loaves a day
and your pork, and you need not and so do not work.
You have no employment but idleness, and idleness is
not so much a vice itself as the prolific mother of all
vices. When I was one of you, it was so; and so it is
now. My father's labor was nothing; he was kept by
the state. The emperor was not more a man of pleasure
than he, nor the princes, than I and Varus. Was
that a school of virtue? When I left the service of the
amphitheatre I joined the Legions. In the army I had
work, and I had fighting, but my passions, in the early
days of that service, raged like the sea; and during all
the reign of Valerian's son there was no bridle upon

them; — for I served under the general Carinus, and
what Carinus was and is, most of you know. O the
double horrors of those years! I was older, and yet
worse and worse. God! I marvel that thou didst not
interpose and strike me dead! But thy mercy spared
me, and now the lowest, lowest hell shall not be mine.'
Tears forced by these recollections flowed down his
cheeks, and for a time he was speechless.

`Such, Romans, was I once. What am I now? I
am a changed man — through and through. There is
not a thought of my mind, nor a fibre of my body, what
they were once. You may possibly think the change
has been for the worse, seeing me thus thrust forth from
the tribunal of the prefect with dishonor, when I was
once a soldier and an officer under Aurelian. I would
rather a thousand times be what I am, a soldier of Jesus
Christ. And I would that by anything I could do, you,
any one of you, might be made to think so too; I would
that Varus might, for I bear him no ill will.

`But what am I now? I am so different a man from
what I once was, that I can hardly believe myself to be
the same. The life which I once led, I would not lead
again — no — not one day nor hour of it, though you
would depose Aurelian to-day and crown me Cæsar to-morrow.
I would no more return to that life, than I
would consent to lose my nature and take a swine's, and
find elysium where as a man I once did, in sinks and
sties. I would not renounce for the wealth of all the
world, and its empire too, that belief in the faith of
Christ, the head of the Christians, which has wrought
so within me.

`And what has made me so — would make you so —

if you would but hearken to it. And would it not be a
good thing if the flood of vice, which pours all through
the streets of Rome, were stayed? Would it not be a
happy thing, if the misery which dwells beneath these
vaulted roofs and these humbler ones equally, the misery
which drunkenness and lust, the love of money, and
the love of place, and every evil passion generates, were
all wiped away, and we all lived together observant of
the rights of one another, helping one another; not oppressing;
loving, not hating; showing in our conduct
as men, the virtues of little children? Would it not
be happier if all this vast population were bound together
by some common ties of kindred; if all held all as brethren;
if the poor man felt himself to be the same as Aurelian
himself, because he is a man like him and weighs
just as much as he in the scales of God, and that it is
the vice in the one or the other, and that only, that sinks
him lower? Would it not be better, if you all could see
in the presiding power of the universe, one great and
good Being, who needs not to be propitiated by costly
sacrifices of oxen or bulls, nor by cruel ones of men, —
but is always kindly disposed towards you, and desires
nothing so much as to see you living virtuously and
happily, and is never grieved as he is to see you ruining
your own peace, — not harming him — by your vices?
for you will bear witness with me that your vices are
never a cause of happiness. Would it not be better if
you could behold such a God over you, in the place of
those who are called gods, and whom you worship, as I
did once, because I feared to do otherwise, and yet sin
on never the less: who are your patterns not so much
in virtue as in vice?'

`Away with the wicked!' — `Away with the fellow!'
cried several voices; but others predominated, saying,
`Let him alone!' — `He speaks well! We will hear
him!' — `We will defend him! go on, go on!'

`I have little or nothing more to say,' continued Macer.
`I will only ask you whether you must not judge
that to be a very powerful principle of some kind that
drew me up out of that foul pit into which I was fallen,
and made me what I am now? Which of you now
feels that he has motive strong enough to work out such
a deliverance for him? What help in this way do you
receive from your priests, if perchance you ever apply
to them? What book of instructions concerning the
will of the gods have you, to which you can go at any
time and all times? Only believe as I do, Romans,
and you will hate sin as I do. You cannot help it.
Believe in the God that I do, and in the revealer of his
will, the teacher whom he sent into the world to save us
from our heathen errors and vices, and you will then be
more than the Romans you once were. You are now,
and you know it, infinitely less. Then you will be
what the old Romans were and more. You will be as
brave as they, and more just. You will be as generous
and more gentle. You will love your own country as
well, but you will love others too. You will be more
ready to offer up your lives for your country, for it will
be better worth dying for; every citizen will be a
brother; every ruler a brother; it will be like dying for
your own little household. If you would see Rome
flourish she must become more pure. She can stagger
along not much longer under this mountain weight of
iniquity that presses her into the dust. She needs a

new Hercules to cleanse her foul chambers. Christ is
he; and if you will invite him, he will come and sweep
away these abominations, so that imperial Rome shall
smell fragrantly as a garden of spices.'

Loud exclamations of approval here interrupted Macer.
The great proportion of those who were present
were now evidently with him, and interested in his
communications.

`Tell us,' cried one, as soon as the noise subsided,
`how you became what you are? What is to be done?'

`Yes,' cried many voices, `tell us.'

`I will tell you gladly,' answered Macer. `I first heard
the word of truth from the lips of Probus, a preacher of
the Christians, whom you too may hear whenever you
will, by seeking him out on the days when the Christians
worship. Probus was in early life a priest of the
temple of Jupiter, and if any man in Rome can place
the two religions side by side, and make the differences
plain, it is he. Go to him such of you as can, and you
will never repent it. But if you would all learn the
first step toward Christian truth, and all truth, it is this;
lay aside your prejudices, be willing to bear, see, hear,
and judge for yourselves. Take not rumor for truth.
Do not believe without evidence both for and against.
You would not, without evidence and reason, charge
Aurelian with the death of Aurelia, though ten thousand
tongues report it. Charge not the Christians with worse
things then, merely because the wicked and ill-disposed
maliciously invent them and spread them. If you would
know the whole truth and doctrine of Christians; if you
would ascend to the fountain-head of all Christian
wisdom, take to your homes our sacred books and read

them. Some of you at least can obtain them. Let one
purchase, and then twenty or fifty read. One thing before
I cease. Believe not the wicked aspersions of the
prefect. He charges me as a brawler, a disturber of the
peace and order of the city. Romans, believe me, I am
a lover of peace, but I am a lover of freedom too. Because
I am a lover of peace, and would promote it, do I
labor to teach the doctrines of Christ, which are doctrines
of peace and love, both at home and abroad, in the city
and throughout the world; and because I am the friend
of freedom, do I open my mouth at all times and in every
place, wherever I can find those who, like you, are
ready to hear the words of salvation. When in Rome I
can no longer speak — no longer speak for the cause of
what I deem truth, then will I no longer be a Roman.
Then will I that day renounce my name and my country.
Thanks to Aurelian, he has never chained up the
tongue. I have fought and bled under him, and never
was there a braver man, or who honored courage more
in others. I do not believe he will ever do so cowardly
a thing as to restrain the freedom of men's speech. Aurelian
is some things, but he is not others. He is severe
and cruel, but not mean. Cut Aurelian in two,
and throw the worser half away, and t' other is as royal
a man as ever the world saw.

`One thing more, good friends and citizens: If I am
sometimes carried away by my passions to do that which
seems a disturbance of the common order, say that it is
the soldier Macer that does it, not his Christian zeal
— his human passions, not his new-adopted faith. It is
not at once and perfectly that a man passes from one
life to another; puts off one nature and takes another.

Much that belonged to Macer of the amphitheatre, and
Macer the soldier, cleaves to him now. But make not
his religion amenable for that. You who would see
the law of Christ written, not only on a book but in the
character and life of a living man, go read the Christian
Probus.'

As he said these words he began to descend the steps
of the temple; but many crowded round him, assailing
him, some with reproaches, and others with inquiries
put by those who seemed anxious to know the truth.
The voices of his opponents were most violent and prevailed,
and made me apprehensive that they would proceed
to greater length than speech. But Macer stood
firm, nothing daunted by the uproar. One, who signalized
himself by the loudness and fierceness of his cries,
exclaimed, `that he was nothing else than an atheist like
all the rest of the Christians; they have no gods; they
deny the gods of Rome, and they give us nothing in
their stead.'

`We deny the gods of Rome, I know,' replied Macer,
`and who would not, who had come to years of discretion?
who had so much as left his nurse's lap? A
fouler brotherhood than they the lords of Heaven, Rome
does not contain. Am I to be called upon to worship a
set of wretches chargeable with all the crimes and vices
to be found on earth? It is this accursed idolatry, O
Romans, that has sunk you so low in sin? They are
your lewd, and drunken, and savage deities, who have
taught you all your refinement in wickedness; and
never, till you renounce them, never till you repent you
of your iniquities — never till you turn and worship the
true God will you rise out of the black Tartarean

slough in which you are lying. These two hundred
years and more has God called to you by his Son, and
you have turned away your ears; you have hardened
your hearts; the prophets who have come to you in his
name have you slain by the sword or hung upon the
accursed tree. Awake out of your slumbers! These
are the last days. God will not forbear forever. The
days of vengeance will come; they are now at hand: I
can hear the rushing of that red right arm hot with
wrath —'

`Away with him! away with him!' broke from an
hundred voices! — `Down with the blasphemer!' —
`Who is he to speak thus of the gods of Rome?' — `Seize
the impious Gallilean, and away with him to the prefect!'
— These and a thousand exclamations of the same
kind, and more savage, were heard on every side, and
at the same moment, their denial and counter-exclamations
from as many more.

`He has spoken the truth!' — `He is a brave fellow!'
— `He shall not be touched except we fall first!' —
came from a resolute band who encompassed the preacher,
and seemed resolved to make good their words by
defending him against whatever assault might be made.
Macer, himself a host in such an affray, neither spoke
nor moved, standing upright and still as a statue; but
any one might see the soldier in his kindling eye, and
that a slight cause would bring him upon the assailants
with a fury that would deal out wounds and death. He
had told them that the old Legionary was not quite dead
within him, and sometimes usurped the place of the
Christian; this they seemed to remember, and after
showering upon him vituperation and abuse in every

form, one after another they withdrew and left him with
those who had gathered immediately around him.
These too soon took their leave of him, and Macer, unimpeded
and alone, turned towards his home.

When I related to Probus afterwards what I had
heard and witnessed, he said that I was fortunate in
hearing what was so much more sober and calm than
what usually fell from him; that generally he devoted
himself to an exposition of the absurdities of the heathen
worship, and the abominations of the mysteries, and the
vices of the priesthood; and he rarely ended without
filling with rage a great proportion of those who heard
him. Many a time had he been assaulted; and hardly
had escaped with his life. You will easily perceive,
Fausta, how serious an injury is inflicted upon us by
rash and violent declaimers like Macer. There are
others like him; he is by no means alone, though he is
far the most conspicuous. Together they help to kindle
the flame of active hostility, and infuse fresh bitterness
into the Pagan heart. Should the emperor carry into effect
the purposes now ascribed to him, these men will
be sure victims, and the first.

Upon my return after hearing Macer, I found Livia
seated with Julia, to whom she often comes thus, and
then together — I often accompanying — they visit Tibur.
She had but just arrived. It was easy to see that
the light-heartedness, which so manifested itself always
in the beaming countenance and the elastic step, was
gone; the usual signs of it at least were not visible.
Her whole expression was serious and anxious; and
upon her face were the traces of recent grief. For a
long time, after the first salutations and inquiries were
through, neither spoke. At length Livia said,

`I am come now, Julia, to escape from what has become
of late little other than a prison. The Fabrician
dungeons are not more gloomy than the gardens of Sallust
are now. No more gaiety; no feasting by day and
carousal by night; the gardens never illuminated; no
dancing nor music. It is a new life for me: and then
the only creatures to be seen, that hideous Fronto and
the smiling Varus; men very well in their place, but
no inmates of palaces.'

`Well said, Julia; there is the greater reason why
we should see more of each other and of Zenobia. Aurelian
is the same?'

`The same? There is the same form, and the same
face, and the same voice; but the form is motionless,
save when at the Hippodrome, — the face black as Styx,
and his voice rougher than the raven's. That agreeable
humor and sportiveness, which seem native to him,
though by reason of his thousand cares not often seen, is
now wholly gone. He is observant as ever of all the
forms of courtesy, and I am to him what I have ever
been; but a dark cloud has settled over him and all the
house, and I would willingly escape if I could. And
worse than all, is this of Aurelia! Alas, poor girl!'

`And what, Livia, is the truth?' said Julia; `the city
is filled with rumors but they are so at variance no one
knows which to believe, or whether none.'

`I hardly know myself,' replied Livia. `All I know
with certainty is, that I have lost my only companion —
or the only one I cared for — and that Aurelian merely
says she has been sent to the prisons at the Fabrician
bridge. I cannot tell you of our parting. Aurelia was
sure something terrible was designed against her, from

the sharpness and violence of her uncle's language, and
she left me as if she were never to see me again. But
I would believe no such thing, and so I told her, and
tried to give to her some of the courage and cheerfulness
which I pretended to have myself; but it was to no purpose.
She departed weeping as if her heart were
broken. I love her greatly, notwithstanding her usual
air of melancholy and her preference of solitude, and I
have found in her, as you know, my best friend and
companion. Yet I confess there is that in her which I
never understood, and do not now understand. I hope
she will comply with the wishes of Aurelian, and that
I shall soon see her again. The difficulty is all owing
to this new religion. I wish, Julia, there were no such
thing. It seems to me to do nothing but sow discord
and violence.'

`That, dear Livia,' said Julia, `is not a very wise
wish; especially seeing you know, as you will yourself
confess, so little about it.'

`But,' quickly added Livia, `was it not better as it
was at Palmyra? who heard then of these bitter hostilities?
who were there troubled about their worship?
One hardly knew there was such a thing as a Christian.
When Paul was at the palace, it was still all the same;
only, if anything, a little more agreeable. But here, no
one at the gardens speaks of Christians but with an assassin
air that frightens one. There must surely be
more evil in them than I ever dreamed of.'

`The evil, Livia,' answered her sister, `comes not
from the Christians nor Christianity, but from those who
oppose them. There were always Christians in Palmyra,
and as you say even in the palace, yet there was

always peace and good-will too. If Christianity were
in itself an element of discord and division, why were
no such effects seen there? The truth is, Livia, the division
and discord are created, not by the new religion,
but by those who resist it, and will not suffer people to
act and think as they please about it. Under Zenobia
all had free liberty to believe as they would. And there
was under her the reign of universal peace and good-will.
Here, on the other hand, it has been the practice
of the state to interfere, and say what the citizens shall
believe and whom they shall worship, and what and
whom they shall not. How should it be otherwise than
that troubles should spring up, under legislation so absurd
and so wicked? Would it not be a certain way to introduce
confusion, if the state — or Aurelian — should
prescribe our food and drink? or our dress? And if
confusion did arise, and bitter opposition, you could not
justly say it was owing to the existence of certain kinds
of food, or of clothes which people fancied, but to their
being interfered with. Let them alone, and they will
please themselves and be at peace.'

`Yes,' said Livia, `that may be. But the common
people are in no way fit judges in such things, and it seems
to me if either party must give way, it were better the
people did. The government has the power and they
will use it.'

`In so indifferent a matter as food or dress,' rejoined
the sister, `if a government were so foolish as to make
prohibitory and whimsical laws, it were better to yield
than contend. But in an affair so different from that as
one's religion, one could not act in the same way. I
may dress in one kind of stuff as well as another; it is

quite a possible thing: but is it not plainly impossible,
if I think one kind of stuff is of an exquisite fineness and
color, for me to believe and say at the same time, that its
texture is coarse and its hue dull? The mind cannot
believe according to any other laws than those of its own
constitution. Is it not then the height of wickedness to
set out to make people believe and act one way in religion?
The history of the world has shown that, in
spite of men's wickedness, there is nothing on earth they
value as they do their religion. They will die rather
than change or renounce it. Men are the same now.
To require that any portion of the people shall renounce
their religion is to require them to part with that which
they value most — more than life itself — and is it not
in effect pronouncing against them a sentence of destruction?
Some indeed will relinquish it rather than die;
and some will play the hypocrite for a season, intending
to return to a profession of it in more peaceful times:
But most, and the best, will die before they will disown
their faith,'

`Then if that is so,' said Julia, `and I confess what
you say cannot be denied, I would that Aurelian could
be prevailed upon to recede from a position which he
seems to be taking. His whole nature now seems to
have been set on fire by this priest Fronto. Superstition
has wholly seized and possessed him. His belief
is that Rome can never be secure and great till the enemies
of the gods, as well as of the state, shall perish;
and pushed on by Fronto he appears, so far as can be
gathered from their discourse, to be bent on their destruction.
I wish he could be changed back again to what

he was before this notion seized him. Piso, have you
seen him? Have you of late conversed with him?'

`Only, Livia, briefly; and on this topic only at intervals
of other talk; for he avoids it, at least with me.
But from what we all know of Aurelian, it is not one's
opinion nor another's that can alter his will when once
bent one way.'

`How little did I once deem,' said Livia, `when I used
to wish so for greatness and empire, that they could be
so darkened over. I thought that to be great was necessarily
to be happy. But I was but a child then.'

`How long since was that?' asked Julia, smiling.

`Ah! you would say I am little better than that now.'

`You are young yet, Livia, for much wisdom to have
come; and you must not wonder if it come slowly, for
you are unfortunately placed to gain it. An idol on its
pedestal can rarely have but two thoughts — that it is
an idol, and that it is worshipped. The entrance of all
other wisdom is quite shut out.'

`How pleasant a thing it is, Piso, to have an elder
sister as wise as Julia! But come, will you to Tibur?
I must have Faustula, now I have lost Aurelia.'

`O no, Livia,' said Julia; `take her not away from
Zenobia. She can ill spare her.'

`But there is Vabalathus.'

`Yes, but he is now little there. He is moreover preparing
for his voyage. Faustula is her all.'

`Ah, then it cannot be! It were very wrong, I see.
Then I see not but I must go to her, or come live with
you. Only think of one's trying to escape from the
crown of Rome? I can hardly believe I am Livia; once

never to be satisfied with power and greatness — now
tired of them! No, not that exactly —'

`You are tired, only, Livia, of some little attendant
troubles; you like not that overhanging cloud you just
spoke of; but for the empire itself, you love that none
the less. To believe that, it is enough to see you.'

`I suppose you are right. Julia is always right,
Piso.'

So our talk ran on; sometimes into graver and then
into lighter themes — often stopping and lingering long
over you, and Calpurnius, and Gracchus. You wished
to know more of Livia and her thoughts, and I have
given her to you in just the mood in which she happened
to be.

The wife of Macer has just been here, seeking from
Julia both assistance and comfort. She implores us to
do what we may to calm and sober her husband.

`As the prospect of danger increases,' she said to
Julia, `he grows but the more impetuous and ungovernable.
He is abroad all the day and every day, preaching
all over Rome, and brings home nothing for the
support of the family; and if it were not for the empeperor's
bounty, we should starve.'

`And does that support you?'

`O no, lady! it hardly gives us food enough to subsist
upon. Then we have besides to pay for our lodging
and our clothes. But I should mind not at all our labor
nor our poverty, did I not hear from so many that
my husband is so wild and violent in his preaching, and
when he disputes with the gentiles, as he will call them.
I am sure it is a good cause to suffer in, if one must

suffer; but if our dear Macer would only work half the
time, there would be no occasion to suffer — which we
should now were it not for Demetrius the jeweler — who
lives hard by, and who I am sure has been very kind to
us — and our good ælia.'

`You do not then,' I asked, `blame your religion nor
weary of it?'

`O, sir, surely not. It is our greatest comfort. We
all look out with expectation of our greatest pleasure,
when Macer returns home, after his day's labors; and
labors they surely are, and will destroy him, unless
he is persuaded to leave them off. For when he is
at home the children all come round him, and he teaches
them in his way what religion is. Sometimes it is a
long story he gives them of his life, when he was a little
boy and knew nothing about Christ, and what wicked
things he did, and sometimes about his serving as a soldier
under the emperor. But he never ends without
showing them what Christ's religion tells them to think
of such ways of life. And then, sir, before we go to
bed he reads to us from the gospels — which he bought
when he was in the army, and was richer than he is
now — and prays for us all, for the city, and the emperor,
and the gentiles. So that we want almost nothing,
as I may say, to make us quite contented and happy.'

`Have you ever been disturbed in your dwelling on
Macer's account?'

`O yes, sir, and we are always fearing it. This is
our great trouble. Once the house was attacked by the
people of the street, and almost torn down — and we
escaped, I and the children, through a back way into the
shop of the good Demetrius. There we were safe; and

while we were gone our little cabin was entered, and
everything in it broken in pieces. Macer was not at
home, or I think he would have been killed.'

`Did you apply to the perfect?'

`No, sir, I do not believe there would be much use in
that: they say he hates the Christians so.'

`But he is bound to preserve order in the city.'

`Yes, sir; but for a great man like him it's easy to
see only one way, and to move so slowly that it does no
good. That is what our people say of him. When
the Christians are in trouble he never comes, if he
comes at all, till it is too late to do them any service.
The best way for us is I think to live quietly, and not
needlessly provoke the gentiles, nor believe that we can
make Christians of them all in a day. That is my husband's
dream. He thinks that he must deliver his message
to people, whether they will or not, and it almost
seems as if the more hostile they were, the more he
made it his duty to preach to them, which certainly was
not the way in which Christ did, as he reads his history
to us. It was just the other way. It almost makes me
believe that some demon has entered into him, he is so
different from what he was, and abroad from what he is
at home. Do you think that likely, sir? I have been
at times inclined to apply to Felix to see if he could not
exorcise him.'

`No, I do not think so, certainly; but many may. I
believe he errs in his notion of the way in which to do
good; but under some circumstances it is so hard to
tell which the best way is, that we must judge charitably
of one another. Some would say that Macer is
right; others that the course of Probus is wisest; and

others that of Felix. We must do as we think right,
and leave the issue to God.'

`But you will come and see us? We dwell near
the ruins, and behind the shop of Demetrius. Everybody
knows Demetrius.'

I assured her I would go.

I almost wish, Fausta, that Julia was with you. All
classes seem alike exposed to danger. But I suppose it
would be in vain to propose such a step to her, especially
after what she said to Isaac. You now, after
your storm, live at length in calm: not exactly in sunshine;
for you would say the sun never can seem to
shine that falls upon the ruins of Palmyra. But calm
and peace you certainly have, and they are much. I
wish Julia could enjoy them with you. For here, every
hour, so it now seems to me, the prospect darkens, and
it will be enough for one of us to remain to encounter
the evil, whatever it may be, and defend the faith we
have espoused. This is an office more appropriate to
man than to woman; though emergences may arise as
they have when woman herself must forget her tenderness
and put on soldiers' panoply; and when it has
come, never has she been found wanting. Her promptness
to believe that which is good and pure, has been
equaled by her fortitude and patience in suffering for it.

You will soon see Vabalathus. He will visit you
before he enters upon his great office. By him I shall
write to you soon again. Farewell.