University of Virginia Library

LETTER XI.
FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.

A day has passed, Fausta, since the hearing of Probus,
and I hasten to inform you of its events.

But, first of all, before I enter upon the dark chapter
of our calamities, let me cheer you and myself by dwelling
a moment upon one bright and sunny sopt. Early
in the day we were informed that Isaac was desirous to
see us. He was at once admitted. As he entered it
was easy to see that some great good fortune had befallen
him. His face shone through the effect of some
inward joy, and his eyes sparkled in their deep sockets
like burning tapers. When our customary salutations
and inquiries were over, Julia said to him.

`I think, Isaac, you must have sold a jewel this morning
to no less a person than Aurelian, if the face may be
held as an index of our good fortune.'

`I have parted with no jewel, lady, he replied, 'but
there has fallen into my hands a diamond of inestimable
value, drawn from those mines of the Orient, which I
may say, not all the wealth of Aurelian could purchase
of me. Whenever I shall receive such permission, it
will give me highest delight to show it to thee.'

`Only a single jewel, Isaac?' said Julia. `Is it
but one stone that so transports thee and makes thy face
that of a young man?'

`Lady, to confess the truth, there are four—four living

stones and precious — more precious than any that
of old blazed upon the breastplate of our high-priest.
Princess, I have come to tell thee and Piso what none in
Rome besides, as I think, would care to know — and
strange it is that you Christians should be those whom
I, a Jew, most love, and that I, an old and worn-out man,
should fill any space, were it no bigger than a grain of
wheat, in your regards. I have come to tell you what
you have already discovered, that Hagar is arrived with
the young Ishmael, and with them two dark-eyed daughters
of Israel, who are as welcome as the others. There
is not now, Piso, within the walls of Rome a dwelling
happier than mine. Soon as leisure and inclination shall
serve, come, if you will do us such grace, to the street
Janus, and behold our contentment. Sorry am I that the
times come laden to you with so many terrors. Piso,'
continued he in a more earnest tone and bending toward
me, `rely upon the word of one who is rarely deceived,
and who now tells thee, there is a sword hanging over
thy head! Fronto thirsts for thy life, and thine, lady!
and Aurelian, much as he may love you, is, as we have
already seen, not proof against the violent zeal of the
priest. Come to the street Janus, and I will warrant
you safety and life. There is none for you here — nor
in Rome — if Aurelian's hounds can scent you.'

We were again obliged to state, with all the force we
could give to them, the reasons which bound us to remain
not only in Rome but in our own dwelling, and
await whatever the times might bring forth. He was
again slow to be convinced, so earnestly does he desire
our safety. But at length he was persuaded that he
himself would take the same course were he called upon

to defend the religion of his fathers. He then departed,
having first exacted a promise that we would soon see
his new family.

Soon as Isaac was gone I sought the streets.

Rome, Fausta, has put on the appearance of the Saturnalia.
Although no license of destruction has yet
been publicly given, the whole city is in commotion —
the lower orders noisy and turbulent, as if they had already
received their commission of death. Efforts have
been made, both on the part of the senate and that of
the nobles who are not of that body, joined by many of
all classes, to arrest the Emperor in his murderous career,
but in vain. Not the Seven Hills are more firmly
rooted in the earth than he in his purposes of blood.
This is well known abroad; and the people are the
more emboldened in the course they take. They know
well that Aurelian is supreme and omnipotent; that no
power in Rome can come in between him and his object,
whatever it may be; and that they therefore,
though they should err through their haste, and in their
zeal even go before the edicts, would find in him a lenient
judge. No Christian was accordingly to be now
seen in the streets — for nowhere were they safe from
the ferocious language, or even the violent assaults, of
the mob. These cruel executioners I found all along,
wherever I moved, standing about in groups as if impatiently
awaiting the hour of noon, or else gathered about
the dwellings of well-known Christians, assailing the
buildings with stones, and the ears of their pent-up inhabitants
with all that variety of imprecation they so
well know how to use. It was almost with sensations
of guilt that I walked the streets of Rome in safety,

bearing a sort of charmed life, while these thousands of
my friends were already suffering more through their
horrible anticipation, than they would when they should
come to endure the reality. But although I passed
along uninjured by actual assault, the tongue was freely
let loose upon me, and promises were abundantly lavished
that before many days were gone not even the
name of Piso, nor the favor of Aurelian, should save me
from the common doom.

As the hour of noon drew nigh, it seemed as if the
entire population of Rome was pouring itself into the
streets and avenues leading to the capitol. Not the triumph
of Aurelian itself filled this people with a more
absorbing, and, as it appeared, a more pleasing interest,
than did the approaching calamities of the Christians.
Expectation was written on every face. Even the boys
threw up their caps as in anticipation of somewhat that
was to add greatly to their happiness.

The sixth hour has come and is gone. The edicts
are published, and the Christians are now declared enemies
of the state and of the gods, and are required to
be informed against by all good citizens, and arraigned
before the Prefect and the other magistrates especially
appointed for the purpose.

All is now confusion, uproar, and cruel violence.

No sooner was the purport of the edicts ascertained
by the multitudes who on this occasion as before
thronged the capitol, than they scattered in pursuit of
their victims. The priests of the temples heading the
furious crowds, they hastened from the hill in every direction,
assailing as they reached them the houses of

the Christians, and dragging the wretched inhabitants
to the presence of their barbarous judges. Although in
the present edicts the people are not let loose as authorized
murderers upon the Christians, they are nevertheless
exhorted and required to inform against them and
bring them before the proper tribunals on the charge of
Christianity, so that there is lodged in their hands a
fearful power to harrass and injure — a power which is
used as you may suppose Romans would use it. Every
species of violence has this day been put in practice
upon this innocent people; their perpetrators feeling
sure that in the confusion, deeds at which even Varus
or Aurelian might take offence, will be overlooked. The
tribunals have been thronged from noon till night with
Christians and their accusers. As the examination of
those who have been brought up has rarely occupied
but a few moments, the evidence always being sufficiently
full to prove them Christians, and when that
has been wanting their own ready confession supplying
the defect — the prisons are already filling with their
unhappy tenants, and extensive provisions are making
to receive them in other buildings set apart for the time
to this office. A needless provision. For it requires
but little knowledge of Aurelian to know that his impatient
temper will not long endure the tedious process of
a regular accusation, trial, condemnation, and punishment.
A year in that case would scarce suffice to
make way with the Christians of Rome. Long before
the prisons can be emptied in a legal way of the tenants
already crowding them, will the Emperor resort to the
speedier method of a general and indiscriminate massacre.
No one can doubt this, who is familiar as I am
with Aurelian, and the spirits who now rule him.

Let me tell you now of the fate of Probus.

He was seated within his own quiet home at the
time the edicts were proclaimed from the steps of the
capitol. The moment the herald who proclaimed them
had pronounced the last word, and was affixing them to
the column, the name of Probus was heard shouted
from one side of the hill to the other, and while the
multitude scattered in every direction in pursuit of those
who were known to them severally as Christians, a
large division of it made on the instant for the dwelling
of Probus. On arriving there, roused by the noise of
the approaching throng, Probus came forth. He was
saluted by cries and yells, that seemed rather to proceed
from troops of wild beasts than men. He would fain
have spoken to them, but no word would they hear.
`Away with the Christian dog to the Prefect!' arose
in one defeaning shout from the people; and Probus,
being on the instant seized and bound, was led unresisting
away to the tribunal of Varus.

As he was dragged violently along, and was now
passing the door which leads to the room where Varus
sits, Felix the bishop, having already stood before the
Prefect, was leaving the hall, urged along by soldiers
who were bearing him to prison.

`Be of good cheer, Probus!' exclaimed he; `a crown
awaits thee within. Rome needs thy life, and Christ
thy soul.'

`Peace, dotard!' cried one of those who guarded and
led him; and at the same moment brought his spear

with such force upon his head that he felled him to the
pavement.

`Thou hast slain thyself, soldier, by that blow rather
than him,' said Probus. `Thine own faith has torments
in reserve for such as thee.'

`Thou too!' cried the enraged soldier; and he would
have repeated the blow upon the head of Probus, but
that the descending weapon was suddenly struck upwards
and out of the hand of him who wielded it by
another belonging to the same Legion who guarded Probus,
saying as he did so,

`Hold, Mutius! it is not Roman to strike the bound
and defenceless, Christians though they be. Raise that
fallen old man, and apply such restoratives as the place
affords.' And then, with other directions to those who
were subordinate to him, he moved on, bearing Probus
with him.

Others, who had arrived before him, were standing
in the presence of Varus, who was questioning them as
to their faith in Christ. On the left hand of the Prefect,
and on the right of those who were examined,
stood a small altar surmounted by a statue of Jupiter, to
which the Christians were required to sacrifice. But
few words sufficed for the examination of such as were
brought up. Upon being inquired of touching their
faith, there was no waiting for witnesses, but as soon as
the question was put, the arraigned person acknowledged
at once his name and religion. He was then required
to sacrifice and renounce his faith, and forthwith
he should be dismissed in safety and with honor. This
the Christian refusing steadfastly to do, sentence of
death was instantly pronounced against him, and he

was remanded to the prisons to await the time of punishment.

Probus was now placed before the Prefect. When it
was seen throughout the crowd which again filled the
house, who it was that was arraigned for examination,
there were visible signs of satisfaction all around that
he who was in a manner the ringleader of the sect was
about to meet with his deserts. As the eye of Varus
fell upon Probus, and he too became aware who it was
that stood at his tribunal, he bent courteously towards
him and saluted him with respect.

`Christian,' said he, `I sincerely grieve to see thee in
such a pass. Ever since I met thee in the shop of the
learned Publius have I conceived an esteem for thee,
and would now gladly rescue thee from the danger that
overhangs. Bethink thee now — thou art of too much
account to die as these others. A better fate should be
thine; and I will stand thy friend.'

`Were what thou sayest true,' replied Probus, `which
I am slow to admit — for nobler, purer souls never lived
on earth than have but now left this spot where I stand —
it would but be a reason of greater force to me, why I
should lose my life sooner than renounce my faith.
What sacrifice can be too holy for the altar of the God
whom I serve? Would to God I were more worthy
than I am to be offered up.'

`Verily,' said Varus, `you are a wonderful people.
The more fitted you are to live happily to yourselves
and honorably to others, the readier you are to die. I
behold in you, Probus, qualities that must make you
useful here in Rome. Rome needs such as thyself.
Say but the word, and thou art safe.'

`Could I in truth, Varus, possess the qualities thou
imputest to me, were I ready on the moment to abandon
what I have so long professed to honor and believe — abjuring,
for the sake of a few years more of life, a faith
which I have planted in so many other hearts, and
which has already brought them into near neighborhood
with a cruel death? Couldst thou thyself afterward
think of me but as of a traitor and a coward?'

`I never,' said Varus, `could do otherwise than esteem
one, who, however late, at length declared himself
the friend of Rome; and more than others should I esteem
him who from being an enemy became a friend.
Even the Emperor, Probus, desires thy safety. It is at
his instance that I press thee.'

Probus bent his head and remained silent. The people
taking it as a sign of acquiescence, cried out, many
of them, `See! he will sacrifice!'

Varus too said, `It needs not that the outward sign
be made. We will dispense with it. The inward consent,
Probus, shall suffice. Soldiers! —'

`Hold, hold, Varus!' cried Probus, rousing himself
from his momentary forgetfulness. `Think not, O Prefect,
so meanly of me! What have I said or done to
induce such belief? I was but oppressed for a moment
with grief and shame that I should be chosen out from
among all the Christians in Rome as one whom soft
words and bribes and the hope of life could seduce from
Christ. Cease, Varus, then; these words are vain.
Such as I have been, I am, and shall be to the end — a
Christian!'

`To the rack with the Christian, then!' shouted
many voices from the crowd.

Varus enforced silence.

`Probus,' said he, as order was restored, `I shall still
hope the best for thee. Thou art of different stuff from
him whom we first had before us, and leisure for reflection
may bring thee to another mind. I shall not
therefore condemn thee either to the rack or to death.
Soldiers, bear him to the prisons at the Fabrician
bridge.'

Whereupon he was led from the tribunal, and conducted
by a guard to the place of his confinement.

The fate of Probus we now regard as sealed. In
what manner he will finally be disposed of it is vain to
conjecture, so various are the ways, each one more ingenious
in cruelty than another, in which Christians
are made to suffer and die. Standing as he does, as
virtually the head of the Christian community, we can
anticipate for him a death only of more refined barbarity.

Felix too, we learn, is confined in the same prison:
and with him all the other principal Christians of Rome.

We have visited Probus in his confinement. You do
not remember, Fausta, probably you never saw, the
prison at the Fabrician bridge. It seems a city itself, so
vast is it and of so many parts, running upwards in walls
and towers to a dizzy height, and downwards to unknown
depths, where it spreads out in dungeons never visited
by the light of day. In this prison, now crowded with
the Christians, did we seek our friend. We were at
once, upon making known our want, shown to the cell
in which he was confined.

We found him, as we entered, seated and bending

over a volume which he was reading, aided by the faint
light afforded by a lamp which his jailer had furnished
him with. He received us with cheerfulness, and at his
side on the single block of stone which the cell provided
for its inmates, we sat and long conversed. I expressed
my astonishment that the favor of a lamp had been allowed
him. `It is not in accordance' I said `with the
usages of this place.'

`You will be still more amazed,' he replied, `when I
tell you through whose agency I enjoy it.'

`You must inform us,' we said, `for we cannot guess.'

`Isaac's;' he replied. `At least I can think of no
other to whom the description given me by the jailer
corresponds. He told me upon bringing it to me, that a
kind-hearted old man, a Jew as he believed him, had
made inquiry about me, and had entreated earnestly for
all such privileges and favors, as the customs of the place
would allow. He has even procured me the blessing of
this friendly light — and what is more yet and which fills
me with astonishment — has sent me this volume, which
is the true light. Can it be that Isaac has done all this,
who surely never has seemed to regard me with much
favor?'

`Never doubt that it is he,' said Julia; `he has two
natures, sometimes one is seen, sometimes the other —
his Jew nature, and his human nature. His human
heart is soft as a woman's or a child's. One so full of
the spirit of universal love I have never known. At
times in his speech, you would think him a man bloody
and severe as Aurelian himself; but in his deeds he is
almost more than a Christian.'

`As the true circumcision,' said Probus, `is that of the

heart, and as he is a Jew who is one inwardly, so is he
only a Christian who does the deeds of one and has the
heart of one. And he who does those deeds, and has
that heart — what matters it by what name he is called?
Isaac is a Christian, in the only important sense of the
word — and, alas! that it should be so, more than many
a one who bears the name. But does this make Christ
to be of none effect? Not so. The natural light, which
lightens every man who cometh into the world, will here
and there, in every place, and in every age, bring forth
those who shall show themselves in the perfection of
their virtues to be of the very lineage of Heaven — true
heirs of its glory. Isaac is such a one. But what then?
For one such, made by the light of nature, the gospel
gives us thousands. But how is it, Piso, in the city?
Are the wolves still abroad?'

`They are. The people have themselves turned informers,
soldiers, and almost executioners. However
large may be the proportion of the friendly or the neutral
in the city, they dare not show themselves. The
mob of those devoted to Aurelian constitutes now the
true sovereign of Rome — the streets are theirs — the
courts are theirs — and anon the games will be theirs.'

`I am given to understand,' said Probus, `that to-morrow
I suffer; yet have I received from the Prefect no
warning to that effect. It is the judgment of my keeper.'

`I have heard the same,' I answered, `but I know not
with what truth.'

`It can matter little to me,' he replied, `when the hour
shall come whether to-morrow or to-night.'

`It cannot,' said Julia. `Furnished with the whole
armor of the gospel, it will be an easy thing for you to
encounter death.'

`It will, lady, believe me. I have many times fought
with enemies of a more fearful front. The enemies of
the soul are those whom the Christian most dreads.
Death, is but the foe of life. So the Christian may but
live to virtue and God, he can easily make his account
with death. It is not the pain of dying, nor the manner
of it, nor any doubts or speculations about the life to
come, which, at an hour like this, intrude upon the Christian's
thoughts.'

`And what then,' asked Julia, as Probus paused and
fell back into himself, `is it that fills and agitates the
mind? for at such a moment it can scarcely possess itself
in perfect peace.'

`It is this,' replied Probus. `Am I worthy? Have I
wrought well my appointed task? Have I kept the
faith? And is God my friend and Jesus my Saviour?
These are the thoughts that engross and fill the mind.
It is busy with the past — and with itself. It has no
thoughts to spare upon suffering and death — it has no
doubts or fears to remove concerning immortality. The
future life, to me, stands out in the same certainty as
the present. Death is but the moment which connects the
two. You say well, that at such an hour as this the
mind can scarce possess itself in perfect peace. Yet is
it agitated by nothing that resembles fear. It is the agitation
that must necessarily have place in the mind of
one to whom a great trust has been committed for a long
series of years, at that moment when he comes to surrender
it up to him from whom it was received. I have
lived many years. Ten thousand opportunities of doing
good to myself and others have been set before me.
The world has been a wide field of action and labor,

where I have been required to sow and till against the
future harvest. Must I not experience solicitude about
the acts and the thoughts of so long a career? I may
often have erred; I must often have stood idly by the
wayside; I must many times have been neglectful, and
forgetful, and willful; I must often have sinned; and it
is not all the expected glory of another life, nor all the
honor of dying in the cause of Christ, nor all the triumph
of a martyr's fate, that can or ought to stifle and overlay
such thoughts. Still I am happy. Happy, not because
I am in my own view worthy or perfect, but because
through Jesus Christ I am taught, in God, to see a Father.
I know that in him I shall find both a just and a
merciful judge; and in him who was tempted even as
we are, who was of our nature and exposed to our trials,
shall I find an advocate and intercessor such as the soul
needs. So that, if anxious as he who is human and fallible
must ever be, I am nevertheless happy and contented.
My voyage is ended; the ocean of life is
passed; and I stand by the shore with joyful expectations
of the word that shall bid me land and enter into
the haven of my rest.'

As Probus ended these words a low and deep murmur
or distant rumbling as of thunder caught our ears, which,
as we listened, suddenly increased to a terrific roar of
lions, as it were directly under our feet. We instinctively
sprang from where we sat, but were quieted at
once by Probus:

`There is no danger,' said he; `they are not within
our apartment, nor very near us. They are a company
of Rome's executioners, kept in subterranean dungeons,
and fed with prisoners whom her mercy consigns to

them. Sounds more horrid yet have met my ears, and
may yours. Yet I hope not.'

But while he yet spoke, the distant shrieks of those
who were thrust toward the den, into which from a
high ledge they were to be flung headlong, were borne
to us, accompanied by the oaths and lashes of such as
drove them, but which were immediately drowned by
the louder roaring of the imprisoned beasts as they fell
upon and fought for their prey. We sat mute, and
trembling with horror, till those sounds at length ceased
to reverberate through the aisles and arches of the
building.

`O Rome!' cried Probus, when they had died away,
`how art thou drunk with blood! Crazed by ambition,
drunk with blood, drowned in sin, hardened as a millstone
against all who come to thee for good, how shalt
thou be redeemed? where is the power to save thee?'

`It is in thee!' said Julia. `It is thy blood, Probus,
and that of these multitudes who suffer with thee, that
shall have power to redeem Rome and the world. The
blood of Jesus, first shed, startled the world in its slumbers
of sin and death. Thine is needed now to sound
another alarm and rouse it yet once more. And even
again and again may the same sacrifice be to be offered
up.'

`True, lady,' said Probus; `it is so. And it is of
that I should think. Those for whom I die should fill
my thoughts, rather than any concern for my own happiness.
If I might but be the instrument by my death,
of opening the eyes of this great people to their errors
and their guilt, I should meet death with gratitude
and joy.'

With this and such like conversation, Fausta, did we
fill up a long interview with Probus. As we rose from
our seats to take leave of him, not doubting that we then
saw him and spoke to him for the last time, he yielded
to the force of nature and wept. But this was but for a
moment. Quickly restored to himself — if indeed when
shedding those tears he were not more truly himself —
he bade us farewell, saying with firmness and cheerfulness
as he did so,

`Notwithstanding, Piso, the darkness of this hour and
of all the outward prospect, it is bright within. Farewell!
— to meet as I trust in Heaven!'

We returned to the Cœlian.

When I parted from Probus, at the close of this interview,
it was in the belief that I should never see him
more. But I was once again in his dungeon, and then
heard from him what I will now repeat to you. It was
thus.

Not long after we had withdrawn from his cell on our
first visit, Probus, as was his wont when alone, sat reading
by that dim and imperfect light which the jailer had
provided him. He presently closed the volume and laid
it away. While he then sat musing, and thinking of
the morrow, and of the fate which then probably awaited
him, the door of his cell slowly opened. He looked, expecting
to see his usual visitant the jailer, but it was a
form very different from his. The door closed, and the
figure advanced to where Probus sat. The gown in
which it was enveloped was then let fall, and the Prefect
stood before the Christian.

`Varus!' said Probus. `Do I see aright?'

`It is Varus,' replied the Prefect. `And your friend.'

`I would, now at least, be at friendship with all the
world,' responded Probus.

`Yet,' said Varus, `your friends must be few, that you
should be left in this place of horror alone to meet your
fate.'

`I have no friend powerful enough, on earth at least,
to cope with the omnipotence of Aurelian,' replied Probus.
`I am an infant in the grasp of a giant.'

`Thy friends, Christian, are more, and more potent
than thou dreamest of. As I said to thee before, even
Aurelian esteems thee.'

`Strange, that if he esteems me as thou sayest, he
should thrust me within the lions' den, with prospect of
no escape but into their jaws. And can I suppose that
his esteem is worth much to me who crowds his prisons
with those who are nearest to me, reserving them there
for a death the most cruel and abhorred?'

`He may esteem thee, Probus, and not thy faith. 'Tis
so with me. I like not thy faith, but truly do I say it, I
like thee, and would fain serve and save thee. Nay, 'tis
thy firmness and thy zeal in the cause thou hast espoused
that wins me. I honor those virtues. But, Probus, in
thee they are dangerous ones. The same qualities in a
worthier cause would make thee great. That which
thou hast linked thyself to, Christian, is a downward and
a dying one. Its doom is sealed. The word of Aurelian
has gone forth, and, before the Ides, the blood of
every Christian in Rome shall flow — and not in Rome
only, but throughout the empire. The forces are now
disposing over the whole of this vast realm which at a
sign from the great Head shall fall upon this miserable
people, and their very name shall vanish from the earth.

It is vain to contend. It is but the struggling of a man
with the will and the arm of Jove —'

`Varus!' — Probus began.

`Nay,' said the Prefect, `listen first. This faith of
thine, Christian, which can thus easily be destroyed,
cannot be that divine and holy thing thou deemest it.
So judges Porphyrius, and all of highest mark here in
Rome. It is not to be thought of one moment as possible
that what a God made known to man for truth, he
should afterward leave defenceless, to be trodden to the
dust, and its ministers and disciples persecuted, formented,
and exterminated, by human force. Christian,
thou hast been deceived — and all thy fellows are in the
like delusion. Do thou then save both thyself and
them. It is in thy power to stop all this effusion of
blood, and restore unity and peace to an empire now
torn and bleeding in every part.'

`And how, Varus — seeing thou wouldst that I should
hear all — how shall it be done?'

`Embrace, Probus, the faith of Rome — the faith of
thy father, venerable for piety as for years — the faith of
centuries, and of millions of our great progenitors, and
thou art safe, and all thine are safe.'

Probus was silent.

`Aurelian bids me say,' continued the Prefect, `that
doing this, there is not a wish of thy heart, for thyself
or for those who are dear to thee, but it shall be granted.
Wealth, more than miser ever craved, office and place
lower but little than Aurelian's own, shall be thine —'

`Varus! if there is within thee the least touch of humanity,
cease! Thy words have sunk into these dead
walls as far as into me; yet have they entered far

enough to have wounded the soul through and through.
Not, Varus, though to all thou hast said and promised
thou shouldst add Rome itself and the empire, and still
to that the subject kingdoms of the East and West,
with their treasures, and the world itself, would I prove
false to myself, my faith, and my God. Nor canst thou
think me base enough for such a deed. This is no
great virtue in me, Varus. I hold it not such; nor
may you. Go through the secret chambers of these
prisons with the same rich bribe upon thy tongue, and
not one so fallen wouldst thou find that he would hear
thee through as I have done. Varus, thou knowest not
what a Christian is! Thou canst not conceive how
little a thing life is in his regard set by the side of
truth. I grieve that ever I should have been so esteemed
by thee as to warrant the proffers thou hast
made. This injures more and deeper than these bonds,
or than all thine array of engines or of beasts.'

`Be not the fool and madman,' said the Prefect, `to
cast away from thee the mercy I have brought. Except
on the terms I have now named, I say there is hope
neither for thee, nor for one of this faith in Rome, however
high their name or rank.'

`That can make no change in my resolve, Varus.'

`Consider, Probus, well. As by thy renunciation
thou couldst save thyself, I now tell thee, that the lives
of those whom thou holdest nearest, hang also upon thy
word. Assent to what I have offered, and Piso and
Julia live! Reject it, and they die!'

Varus paused; but Probus spoke not. He went on.

`Christian, are not these dear to thee? Demetrius
too, and Felix? Where are the mercies of thy boasted

faith, if thy heart is left thus hard? Truly thou mightest
as well have lived and died a Pagan.'

`Again I say, Varus, thou knowest not what a Christian
is. We put truth before life; and if by but a word
that should deny the truth in Christ, or any jot or tittle
of it, I could save the life of Piso, Julia, Felix, Demetrius,
nay, and all in Rome who hold this faith, my tongue
should be torn from my mouth before that word should
be spoken. And so wouldst thou find every Christian
here in Rome. Why then urge me more? Did Macer
hear thee?'

`I hold thee, Probus, a wiser man than he. All
Rome knew him mad. Cast not away thy life. Live,
and to-morrow's sun shall see thee First in Rome!'

`Varus! why is this urgency? Think me not a fool
and blind. Thou knowest, and Fronto and Aurelian
know, that one apostate would weigh more for your bad
cause than a thousand headless trunks; and so with
cruel and insulting craft you weave your snares and
pile to Heaven your golden bribes. Begone, Varus,
and say to Aurelian, if in truth he sent thee on thy
shameful errand, that in the Fabrician prison, in the
same dungeon where he cast Probus the Christian,
there still lives Probus the Roman, who reveres what
he once revered and loved, truth, and whom his bribes
cannot turn from his integrity.'

`Die then, idiot, in thy integrity! Thou hast thrown
scorn upon one who has power and the will to pay it
back in a coin it may little please thee to take it in. If
there be one torment, Galilean, sharper than another, it
shall be thine to-morrow; and for one moment that Macer
passed upon my irons, there shall be hours for thee.

Not till the flesh be peeled inch by inch from thy bones,
and thy vitals look through thy ribs, and thy brain boil
in its hot case, and each particular nerve be stretched
till it break, shall thy life be suffered to depart. Then,
what the tormentors shall have left, the dogs of the
streets shall devour. Now, Christian, let us see if thy
God, beholding thy distress, will pity and deliver thee.'

Saying these words, his countenance transformed by
passion to that of a demon, he turned and left the cell.

Never, Fausta, I feel assured, did Aurelian commission
Varus with such an errand. Fallen though he be,
he has not yet fallen to that lowest deep. Varus doubtless
hoped to prevail over Probus by his base proposals,
and by such triumph raise his fortunes yet higher with
Aurelian. It was a game worth playing — so he judged,
and perhaps wisely — and worth a risk. For doubtless
one apostate of the rank of Probus would have been of
more avail to them, as Probus said to him, than a thousand
slain. For nothing do the judges so weary themselves,
and exhaust their powers of persuasion, as to induce
the Christians who are brought before them to renounce
their faith. So desirous are they of this, that
they have caused, in many instances, those who were
no Christians to be presented at their tribunals, who
have then, after being threatened with torture and death,
renounced a faith which they never professed. Once
and again has this game been played before the Roman
people. Their real triumphs of this sort have as yet
been very few; and the sensation which they produced
was swallowed up and lost in the glory — in the eyes
even of the strangers who are in Rome — which has
crowned us in the steadfast courage with which our

people have remained quietly in their homes, throughout
all this dreadful preparation, and then, when the
hour of trial drew nigh, and they were placed at the bar
of the judge, and were accused of their religion, confessed
the charge, boasted in it, and then took their way
to the prison, from which they well knew death only
would deliver them.

That, Fausta, which we have long feared and looked
for, has come to pass, and Probus, our more than friend,
our benefactor, and almost our parent, is by the Emperor
condemned to death; not, as from the words of Varus
it might be supposed, to the same torments as those
to which Macer was made subject; but to be thrown to
the beasts in the Flavian, a death more merciful than
that, but yet full of horror. How is it that in the Roman
mercy seems dead, and the human nature, which
he received from the gods, changed to that of the most
savage beast!

Livia has been with us; and here with us would she
now gladly remain. It is impossible, she says, for us to
conceive the height of the frenzy to which Aurelian is
now wrought up against the Christians. In his impatience,
he can scarce restrain himself from setting his
Legions in the neighboring camp at once to the work
of slaughter. But he is, strange as it may seem, in this
held back and calmed by the more bloody-minded, but
yet more politic, Fronto. Fronto would have the work
thoroughly accomplished; and that it may be so, he adheres
to a certain system of order and apparent moderation,
from which Aurelian would willingly break away
and at once flood the streets of Rome in a new deluge

of blood. Livia is now miserable and sad, as she was
but a few months ago gay and happy. At the palace,
she tells us, she hears no sounds but the harsh and
grating voice of Fronto, or the smooth and silvery tones
of Varus. As soon, she says, as Aurelian shall have
departed for the East, shall she dwell either with us, or
fly to the quiet retreat of Zenobia at Tibur.

The day appointed for the death of Probus has arrived,
and never did the sun shine upon a fairer one in
Rome. It seems as if some high festival were come,
for all Rome is afoot. Heralds parade the streets, proclaiming
the death of Probus, Felix, and other Christians,
in the Flavian, at the hour of noon. At the corner
of every street, and at all the public places, the
name of “Probus the Christian,” condemned to the
beasts, meets the eye. Long before the time of the sacrifice
had come, the avenues leading to the theatre,
and all the neighborhood of it, were crowded with the
excited thousands of those who desired to witness the
spectacle. There was little of beauty, wealth, fashion,
or nobility in Rome that was not represented in the
dense multitude that filled the seats of the boundless
amphitheatre. Probus had said to me, at my last interview
with him, “Piso, you may think it a weakness in
me; but I would that one at least, whose faith is mine,
and whose heart beats as mine, might be with me at
the final hour. I would, at that hour, meet one eye
that can return the glance of friendship. It will be a
source of strength to me, and I know not how much I
may need.” I readily promised what he asked, though
as you may believe, Fausta, I would willingly have
been spared the trial. So that making part of that tide

pouring toward the centre, I found myself borne along
at the appointed hour to the scene of suffering and
death.

As I was about to pass beneath the arched-way which
leads to the winding passages within, I heard myself
saluted by a well-known voice, and turning to the quarter
whence it came, beheld Isaac, but without his pack,
and in a costume so different from that which he usually
wears, that at first I doubted the report of my eyes.
But the sound of his voice, as he again addressed me,
assured me it could be no other than he.

`Did I not tell thee, Piso,' said he, `that when the
Christian was in his straits, there thou wouldst see the
Jew, looking on, and taking his sport? This is for
Probus the very end I looked for. And how should it
be otherwise? Is he to live and prosper, who aims at
the life of that to which God has given being and authority?
Shall he flourish in pride and glory who hath
helped to pull down what God built up? Not so, Piso.
'Tis no wonder that the Christians are now in this
plight. It could be no otherwise. And in every corner
of this huge fabric wilt thou behold some of my
tribe looking on upon this sight, or helping at the sacrifice.
Yet, as thou knowest, I am not among them.
There is no hope for Probus, Piso?'

`None, Isaac. All Rome could not save him.'

`Truly,' rejoined the Jew, `he is in the lion's den.
Yet as the prophet Daniel was delivered, so may it be
to him. God is over all.'

`God is indeed over all,' I said; `but he leaves us
with our natural passions, affections, and reason, to
work out our own way through the world. We are
the better for it.'

`Doubtless,' said Isaac. `Yet at times, when we
look not for it, and from a quarter we dream not of, deliverance
comes. So was it to Abraham, when he
thought that by his own hand Isaac his son must be
slain. But why to a Christian should I speak of these?
Dost thou witness the sacrifice, Piso?'

`Yes, at the earnest entreaty of Probus himself.'

`I too shall be there. We shall both then see what
shall come to pass.'

So saying, he moved away toward the lower vaults,
and I passed on and ascended the flight of steps leading
to that part of the interior where it is the custom of Aurelian
to sit. The Emperor was not as yet arrived, but
the amphitheatre, in every part of it, was already filled
with its countless thousands. All were seated idly conversing,
or gazing about as at the ordinary sports of the
place. The hum of so many voices struck the ear like
the distant roar of the ocean. How few of those thousands
— not one perhaps — knew for what it was that
Probus and his companions were now about to suffer a
most cruel and abhorred death! They knew that their
name was Christian, and that Christian was of the same
meaning as enemy of the gods and of the empire; but
what it was which made the Christian so willing to die,
why it was he was so ready to come to that place of
horror and give up his body to the beasts — this they
knew not. It was to them a riddle they could not read.
And they sat and looked on with the same vacant unconcern,
or with the same expectation of pleasure, as if
they were to witness the destruction of murderers and
assassins. This would not have been so had that class
of the citizens of Rome, or any of them been present,

however he might affect or feel displeasure for a moment,
would secretly applaud and thank them for the deed.

However this may be, Aurelian suddenly departed
from Rome, and Fronto and Varus filled his place; and
their first act of authority was the seizure of Piso and
the Princess. At Tibur we knew nothing of these
events till they were passed; we caring not to hear of
the daily horrors that were acted in the city, and feeling
as secure of the safety of Piso and Julia as of our own.

It was on a gloomy winter evening when they were
borne away from their home upon the Cœlian to the
dark vaults beneath the Temple of the Sun, Fronto's
own province. But here again let Piso speak for himself,
as I find recorded in the fragment of a letter.

* * * The darkness of the night scarce permitted
me to see, he says, whither we were borne, but
when the guard stopped and required us to alight from
the carriage in which we had been placed, I perceived
that we were at the steps of the temple — victims therefore
in his own regions of a man, as much more savage
than Aurelian, as he than a beast of the forest. We
were denied the happiness of being confined in the same
place, but were thrust into separate dungeons, divided by
walls of solid rock. Here, when wearied out by watching,
I fell asleep. How long this lasted I cannot tell; I
was wakened by the withdrawing of the bolts of my door.
One, bearing a dim light, slowly opening the door entered.
Forgetting my condition I essayed to rise, but
my heavy chains bound me to the floor. Soon as the
noise of my motion caught the ear of the person who
had entered, he said,

`So; all is safe. I am not thy keeper, sir Piso, but

'tis my province to keep the keeper — that is — visit
thee every hour to see that thou art here. Yet, by the
gods! if you Christians have that power of magic which
is commonly reported of you, I see not of what use it
were to watch you thus. How is it with thee, most
noble Piso?'

`That is of little moment; but tell me, if there is anything
human in thee, where is my wife, and what is her
fate?'

`Be not too much concerned,' he replied. `She is
safe, I warrant you. None but Fronto deals with her.'

`Fronto!' I could only say.

`Yes, Fronto. Fear not, he is an honorable man and
a holy priest.'

`Fronto!' I was about to add more but held my
peace; knowing well that what I might say could avail
nothing for us, and might be turned against us. I only
asked, `why there was such delay in examining and
condemning us?'

`That is a question truly,' he replied; `but not so
easy to be answered. Few know the reason, that I can
say. But what is there in the heart of Fronto that is
kept from Curio? Are thy chains easy, Piso?'

`I would that they might be lengthened. Here am I
bound to the floor without so much as the power to stand
upright. This is useless suffering.'

`'Twas so ordered by Fronto; but then if there is one
in Rome who can take a liberty with him I know well
who he is. So hold thou the lamp, Piso, and I will
ease thee;' and, like one accustomed to the art, he soon
struck apart the chain, and again uniting it left me room
both to stand and move.

`There,' said he as he took again the lamp, `for one
who hates a Christian as he does death, that's a merciful
deed. But I can tell thee one thing that it will not
ease thee long.'

`That I can believe. But why, once more, is there
this delay?'

`I know not, Piso, whether I should tell thee, but as I
doubt not Fronto would, were he here, I surely may do
the same, for if there are two men in Rome, Piso, whose
humors are the same and jump together, I and Fronto
are they. There is a dispute then, noble Piso, between
Varus and Fronto about the lady Julia — ' and without
heeding my cries the wretch turned and left the vault,
closing after him the heavy door.

How many days in the torture of a suspense and ignorance
worse than death I lay here I cannot tell. Curio
came as often as he said to see that all was safe, but
there was little said by either; he would examine my
chain and then depart. On the night — the last night I
passed in that agony — preceding my examination by
Varus and Fronto, I was disturbed from my slumbers by
the entrance of Curio. He advanced with as it seemed
to me an unusually cautious step, and I rose expecting
some communication of an uncommon nature. But
what was my amazement, as the light fell upon the face
of him who bore it, to see not Curio but Isaac. His finger
was on his lips, while in his hand he held the implements
necessary for sawing apart my chains.

`Piso!' said he in a whispered tone, `thou art now
free, — I could not save Probus, but I can save thee —
horses fleet as the winds await thee and the Princess
beyond the walls, and at the Tiber's mouth a vessel

takes you to Berytus. Curio lies drunk or dead, it matters
little which, in a neighboring vault.' And he set
down the lamp and seized my chain. The strange devotion
of this man moved me; and were it but to reward
his love I could almost have slipped my bonds. But
other thoughts prevailed.

`Isaac, you have risked your life and that of your
household in this attempt; and sorry am I that I can
pay thee only with my thanks. I cannot fly.'

`Piso! thou surely art not mad? Why shouldst thou
stay in the hands of these pagan butchers — '

`Were this, Isaac, but the private rage of Fronto,
gladly would I go with thee — more gladly would I
give Julia to thy care. But it is not so. It is, as thou
knowest, for our faith that we are here and thus; and
shall we shrink from what Probus bore?'

`Piso, believe me — 'tis not for thy faith alone that
thou art here, but for thy riches, and thy wife — '

`Isaac! thou hast been deceived. Sooner would they
throw themselves into a lion's den for sport, than brave
the wrath of Aurelian for such a crime. Thou hast
been deceived.'

`I have it,' replied the Jew, `from the mouth of the
knave Curio, who has told me of fierce disputes, overheard
by him, between Varus and Fronto concerning
the lady Julia.'

`Their dispute has been, doubtless, whether she too
should be destroyed; for to Fronto is well known the
constant love which Aurelian still bears her. Curio is
not always right.'

`And is this my answer, Piso?' said Isaac. `And
shall I not still see thy wife?'

`No, Isaac; it would be of no avail. Her answer
would be the same as mine.'

`Nevertheless, Piso, I believe that what I have heard
and surmised is so. Fronto and Varus, who have
played with the great Aurelian as a toyman with his
images, may carry even this.'

`Were it so, I put my trust in God, and to him commend
myself and Julia. For this our faith are we
ready to bear all that man can devise or do.'

Seeing that further argument was vain, Isaac, with
eyes that overflowed as any woman's, embraced me and
left the cell.

On the day which followed the visit of Isaac was I
placed before Fronto and Varus.

It was in the great room of the temple that the Prefect
and the Priest awaited their victims. It was dimly
illuminated, so that the remoter parts were lost in thick
darkness. So far as the eye could penetrate it, faces
could be discerned in the gloom, of those who were
there to witness the scene. All whom my sight could
separate from the darkness, were of the Roman priesthood,
or friends of Fronto. Not that others were excluded
— it was broad day, and the act was a public
one and authorized by the imperial edict — but that no
announcement of it had been made; and by previous
concert the place had been filled with the priests and
subordinate ministers of the Roman temples. I knew
therefore that not a friendly eye or arm was there.
Whatever it might please those cruel judges to inflict
upon myself or Julia; there was none to remonstrate
or interpose. With what emotions, when I had first

been placed before those judges, did I await the coming
of Julia, from whom I had now been so long parted!
Fervently did I pray that the mercy of Fronto would
first doom her, that she might be sure of at least one
sympathising and pitying heart.

On the right of the Prefect, upon a raised platform,
were set the various instruments of torture and death,
each attended by its half-naked minister.

I had not stood long, when upon the other side of the
room the noise of the dividing crowd, told me that Julia
was entering, and in a moment more she was standing
at a little distance from me and opposite Fronto — I being
opposite the Prefect. Our eyes met once — and no
more. As I could have desired, Fronto first addressed
her.

`Woman! thou standest here charged with impiety
and denial of the gods of Rome; in other words, with
being a follower of Christ the Nazarene. That the
charge is true, witnesses stand here ready to affirm.
Dost thou deny the charge? Then will we prove its
truth.'

`I deny it not,' responded Julia, `but confess it. Witnesses
are not needed. The Christian witnesses for
himself.'

`Dost thou know the penalty that waits on such confession?'

`I know it, but do not fear it.'

`But for thee to die so, woman, is of ill example to all
in Rome. We would rather change thee. We would not
have thee die the enemy of the gods, of Rome, and of
thyself. I ask thee then to renounce thy vain impiety!'

Julia answered not.

`I require thee, Christian, to renounce Christ!'

Still Julia made no reply.

`Know you not, woman, I have power to force from
thee that which thou wilt not say willingly?'

`Thou hast no such power, Priest. Thou wert else
more than God.'

`Thy tender frame cannot endure the torture of those
engines. It were better spared such suffering.'

`I would gladly be spared that suffering,' said Julia;
`but not at the expense of truth.'

`Think not that I will relent. Those irons shall
rack and rend thee in every bone and joint, except thou
dost renounce that foul impostor, whose curse now lies
heavy upon Rome and the world.'

`Weary me not, Priest, with vain importunity. I am
a Christian, and a Christian will I die.'

`Prepare then the rack!' cried Fronto, his passions
rising; `that is the medicine for obstinacy such as this.
Now bind her to it.'

Hearing that, I wildly exclaimed,

`Priest! thou dar'st not do it for thy life! Touch
but the hair of her head, and thy life shall answer it.
Aurelian's word is pledged, and thou dar'st not break it.'

`Aurelian is far enough from here,' replied the priest.
But were he where I am, thou wouldst see the same
game. I am Aurelian now.'

`Is this then thy commission, had from Aurelian?'

`That matters not, young Piso. 'Tis enough for thee
to know that Fronto rules in Rome. No more! hold
now thy peace! Where an empress has sued in vain,
there is no room for words from thee. Slaves! bind
her, I say! To the rack with her!'

At that I sprang madly forward, thinking only of her
rescue from those murderous fangs, but was at the
same instant drawn violently back both by my chains
and the arms of those who guarded me. The tormentors
descended from their engines to fulfill the commands
of Fronto, and, laying hold of Julia, bore her,
without an opposing word, or look, or motion, toward
their instruments of death. And they were already
binding her limbs to the accursed wheels, while Fronto
and Varus both drew nigh to gloat over her agonies,
when a distant sound, as of the ocean lashed by winds,
broke upon the ears of all within that hell. Even the
tormentors paused in their work, and looked at each
other and at Fronto, as if asking what it should mean.

The silence of death fell upon the crowd — every ear
strained to catch the growing sound and interpret it.

`'Tis but the winter wind!' cried Fronto. `On, cowards,
with your work!'

But ere the words had left his lips, or those demons
could wind the wheels of their engine, the appalling tumult
of a multitude rushing toward the temple became
too fearfully distinct for even Fronto or Varus to pretend
to doubt its meaning. But why it was, or for what,
none could guess; only upon the terror-struck forms of
both the Prefect and the Priest might be read apprehensions
of hostility that from some quarter was aiming at
themselves. Fronto's voice was again heard:

`Bar the great doors of the temple! let not the work
of the gods be profanely violated.'

But the words were too late; for while he was yet
speaking, Oh Fausta, how shall I paint my agony of joy!
there was heard from the street and from the porch of

the temple itself the shouts of as it were ten thousand
voices,

“Tacitus is Emperor!” “Long live the good Tacitus!”

Freedom and life were in those cries. The crowds
from the streets swept in at the doors like an advancing
torrent. Varus and Fronto, followed by their myrmidons,
vanished through secret doors in the walls behind
them, and among the first to greet me and strike the
chains from my limbs were Isaac and Demetrius.

`And where is the lady Julia?' cried Isaac.

`There!'

He flew to the platform, and turning back the wheels,
Julia was once more in my arms.

`And now,' I cried, `what means it all? Am I awake,
or do I dream?'

`You are awake,' replied Demetrius. `The tyrant
is dead! and the senate and people all cry out for Tacitus.'

I now looked about me. The mob of priests was fled,
and around me I beheld a thousand well-known faces
of those who already had been released from their dungeons.
Christians and the friends of Christians now
filled the temple.

`We were led hither,' continued Demetrius, `by your
fast friend, and the friend I believe of all, Isaac. None
but he, and those to whom he gave the tidings, knew
where the place of your confinement was; nor was the
day of your trial publicly proclaimed, although we found
the temple open. But for him we should have been, I
fear, too late. But no sooner was the news of Aurelian's
assassination spread through the city, than Isaac
roused your friends and led the way.'

As Demetrius ceased, the name of “Tacitus Emperor,”
resounded again throughout the temple, and the crowds
then making for the streets, about which they careered
mad with joy, we were at liberty to depart; and accompanied
by Isaac and Demetrius, were soon beneath our
own roof upon the Cœlian.

With what joy then, in our accustomed place of prayer,
did we pour forth our thanksgivings to the Overruling
Providence, who had not only rescued ourselves from
the very jaws of death, but had wrought out this great
deliverance of his whole people! Never before, Fausta,
was Christianity in such peril; never was there a man
who, like Aurelian, united to a native cruelty that could
behold the shedding of blood with the same indifference
as the flowing of water, a zeal for the gods and a love of
country that amounted quite to a superstitious madness.
Had not death interposed — judging as man — no power
could have stayed that arm that was sweeping us from
the face of the earth. Our certain doom was annihilation.

The prisons have all been thrown open, and their
multitudes again returned to their homes. The streets
and squares of the capital resound with the joyful acclamations
of the people. Our churches are once more
unbarred, and with the voice of music and of prayer,
our people testify before Heaven their gratitude for this
infinite mercy.

The suddenness of this transition, from utter hopelessness
and blank despair to this fullness of peace and
these transports of joy, is almost too much for the frame
to bear. Tears and smiles are upon every face. We
know not whether to weep or laugh; and many, as

who, regarding us with favor and hoping that somewhat
may yet come of our religion advantageous to the world,
maintain a neutral position. These were not there;
owing both to their disinclination to witness scenes so
brutalizing, and to apprehensions lest they should be betrayed
into words or acts of sympathy, that might lead
to their being confounded with the obnoxious tribe and
exposed to the like dangers. All therefore within the
embrace of those wide-spreading walls were of one
heart and one mind.

While I sat waiting the coming of the Emperor, and
surrounded by those whom I knew not nor had ever
seen, one who occupied a part of the same seat, accompanied
by his wife and daughters, said to me,

`'Tis to be hoped, sir, that so terrible an example as
this will have its effect in deterring others from joining
this dangerous superstition; and not only that, but strike
so wholesome a terror into those who already profess it,
that they shall at once abandon it, and so the general
massacre of them not be necessary; which indeed I
should be loth to witness in the streets of Rome.'

`If you knew,' I replied, `for what it is these people
are condemned to such sufferings, you would not, I am
sure, express yourself in that manner. You know, I
may presume, only what common report has brought to
your ears.'

`Nothing else, I admit,' he replied. `My affairs confine
me from morning till night. I am a secretary, sir,
in the office of the public mint. I have no time to inform
myself of the exact truth of anything but columns
of figures. I am not afraid to say there is not a better
accountant within the walls of Rome. But as for other

things, especially as to the truth in matters of this sort,
I know nothing, and can learn nothing. I follow on as
the world leads.'

`I dare say,' I replied, `you have spoken the truth.
And everyone here present, were he to speak, would
make very much the same declaration. So here are
eighty thousand citizens of Rome assembled to witness
the destruction of men, of whose crime they know nothing,
yet rejoicing in their death as if they were murderers
or robbers! Were you charged with a false enumeration
of your columns, would not you hold it basest
injustice to suffer punishment before pains were taken to
learn the exact truth in the case? But are you not acting
the same unjust and cruel part — with all who are
here — in looking on and approving the destruction of
these men, about whose offence you know nothing and
have taken no pains to inquire?'

`By the gods!' exclaimed his wife, who seemed the
sharper spirit of the two, `I believe we have a Christian
here! But however that may be, we should be prettily
set to work whenever some entertainment is in prospect
to puzzle ourselves about the right and the wrong in the
matter. If we are to believe you, sir, whenever a poor
wretch is to be thrown to the beasts, before we can be
in at the sport we must settle the question — under the
law I suppose — whether the condemnation be just or
not! Ha! ha! Our life were in that case most light
and agreeable! The Prefect himself would not have
before him a more engaging task. Gods! Cornelia
dear, see what a pair of eyes!'

`Where, mother?'

`There! in that old man's head. They burn and

twinkle like coals of fire. I should think he must be a
Christian.'

I was not sorry that a new object had attracted the attention
of this lady of the secretary; and looking where
she pointed, I saw Isaac planted below us and near the
arena. At the same moment the long peal of trumpets,
and the shouts of the people without, gave note of the
approach and entrance of the Emperor. In a moment
more, with his swift step, he entered the amphitheatre,
and strode to the place set apart for him, the whole multitude
rising and saluting him with a burst of welcome
that might have been heard beyond the walls of Rome.
The Emperor acknowledged the salutation by rising
from his seat and lifting the crown from his head. He
was instantly seated again, and at a sign from him the
herald made proclamation of the entertainments which
were to follow. He who was named as the first to suffer,
was Probus.

When I heard his name pronounced, with the punishment
which awaited him, my resolution to remain for-sook
me, and I turned to rush from the theatre. But
my recollection of Probus's earnest entreaties that I
would be there, restrained me and I returned to my seat.
I considered, that as I would attend the dying bed of a
friend, so I was clearly bound to remain where I was,
and wait for the last moments of Probus; and the circumstance
that his death was to be shocking and harrowing
to the friendly heart was not enough to absolve
me from the heavy obligation. I therefore kept my
place, and awaited with patience the event.

I had waited not long when, from beneath that extremity
of the theatre where I was sitting, Probus was

led forth and conducted to the centre of the arena, where
was a short pillar to which it was customary to bind
the sufferers. Probus, as he entered, seemed rather like
one who came to witness what was there than to be himself
the victim, so free was his step, so erect his form.
In his face there might indeed be seen an expression,
that could only dwell on the countenance of one whose
spirit was already gone beyond the earth, and holding
converse with things unseen. There is always much of
this in the serene, uplifted face of this remarkable man;
but it was now there written in lines so bold and deep,
that there could have been few in that vast assembly but
must have been impressed by it, as never before by
aught human. It must have been this, which brought
so deep a silence upon that great multitude — not the
mere fact that an individual was about to be torn by
lions — that is an almost daily pastime. For it was so,
that when he first made his appearance, and as he moved
toward the centre turned and looked round upon the
crowded seats rising to the heavens, the people neither
moved nor spoke, but kept their eyes fastened upon him
as by some spell which they could not break.

When he had reached the pillar, and he who had
conducted him was about to bind him to it, it was plain,
by what at that distance we could observe, that Probus
was entreating him to desist and leave him at liberty;
in which he at length succeeded, for that person returned,
leaving him alone and unbound. O sight of
misery! — he who for the humblest there present would
have performed any office of love, by which the least
good should redound to them, left alone and defenceless,
they looking on and scarcely pitying his cruel fate!

When now he had stood there not many minutes, one of
the doors of the vivaria was suddenly thrown back, and
bounding forth with a roar, that seemed to shake the
walls of the theatre, a lion of huge dimensions leaped
upon the arena. Majesty and power were inscribed upon
his lordly limbs; and as he stood there where he had
first sprung, and looked round upon the multitude, how
did his gentle eye and noble carriage, with which no
one for a moment could associate meanness, or cruelty,
or revenge, cast shame upon the human monsters
assembled to behold a solitary, unarmed man torn
limb from limb! When he had in this way looked
upon that cloud of faces, he then turned and moved round
the arena through its whole circumference, still looking
upwards upon those who filled the seats — not till he had
come again to the point from which he started so much
as noticing him who stood, his victim, in the midst.
Then — as if apparently for the first time becoming conscious
of his presence — he caught the form of Probus;
and moving slowly towards him, looked steadfastly
upon him, receiving in return the settled gaze of the
Christian. Standing there still awhile — each looking
upon the other — he then walked round him, then approached
nearer, making suddenly and for a moment
those motions which indicate the roused appetite; but,
as it were in the spirit of self-rebuke, he immediately
retreated a few paces and lay down in the sand, stretching
out his head toward Probus, and closing his eyes as
if for sleep.

The people, who had watched in silence, and with
the interest of those who wait for their entertainment,
were both amazed and vexed, at what now appeared to

be the dullness and stupidity of the beast. When however
he moved not from his place, but seemed as if he
were indeed about to fall into a quiet sleep, those who
occupied the lower seats began both to cry out to him
and shake at him their caps, and toss about their arms
in the hope to rouse him. But it was all in vain; and
at the command of the Emperor he was driven back to
his den.

Again a door of the vivaria was thrown open, and
another of equal size, but of a more alert and rapid step,
broke forth, and, as if delighted with his sudden liberty
and the ample range, coursed round and round the arena,
wholly regardless both of the people and of Probus,
intent only as it seemed upon his own amusement.
And when at length he discovered Probus standing in
his place, it was but to bound toward him as in frolic,
and then wheel away in pursuit of a pleasure he esteemed
more highly than the satisfying of his hunger.
At this, the people were not a little astonished, and
many who were near me hesitated not to say, “that
there might be some design of the gods in this.” Others
said, plainly, but not with raised voices, “An omen!
an omen!” At the same time, Isaac turned and looked
at me with an expression of countenance which I could
not interpret. Aurelian meanwhile exhibited many
signs of impatience; and when it was evident the animal
could not be wrought up, either by the cries of the
people or of the keepers to any act of violence, he too
was taken away. But when a third had been let loose,
and with no better effect, nay, with less — for he, when
he had at length approached Probus, fawned upon him
and laid himself at his feet — the people, superstitious

as you know beyond any others, now cried out aloud,
“An omen! an omen!” and made the sign that Probus
should be spared and removed. Aurelian himself
seemed almost of the same mind, and I can hardly doubt
would have ordered him to be released, but that Fronto
at that moment approached him, and by a few of those
words which coming from him are received by Aurelian
as messages from Heaven, put within him a new and
different mind; for rising quickly from his seat, he ordered
the keeper of the vivaria to be brought before him.
When he appeared below upon the sands, Aurelian
cried out to him,

`Why, knave, dost thou weary out our patience
thus — letting forth beasts already over-fed? Do thus
again, and thou thyself shalt be thrown to them. Art
thou too a Christian?'

`Great Emperor,' replied the keeper, `than those I
have now let loose there are not larger nor fiercer in
the imperial dens, and since the sixth hour of yesterday
they have tasted nor food nor drink. Why they have
thus put off their nature 'tis hard to guess, unless the
general cry be taken for the truth, “that the gods have
touched them.”'

Aurelian was again seen to waver, when a voice from
the benches cried out,

`It is, O Emperor, but another Christian device!
Forget not the voice from the temple! The Christians,
who claim powers over demons, bidding them go and
come at pleasure, may well be thought capable to
change, by the magic imputed to them, the nature of a
beast.'

`I doubt not,' said the Emperor, `but it is so. Slave!

throw up now the doors of all thy vaults, and let us see
whether both lions and tigers be not too much for this
new necromancy. If it be the gods who interpose, they
can shut the mouths of thousands as of one.

At those cruel words, the doors of the vivaria were at
once flung open, and an hundred of their fierce tenants,
maddened both by hunger and the goads that had been
applied, rushed forth, and in the fury with which in a
single mass they fell upon Probus — then kneeling upon
the sands — and burying him beneath them, no one could
behold his fate, nor when that dark troop separated and
ran howling about the arena in search of other victims,
could the eye discover the least vestige of that holy
man. — I then fled from the theatre as one who flies
from that which is worse than death.

Felix was next offered up, as I have learned, and after
him more than fourscore of the Christians of Rome.

Rome continues the same scene of violence, cruelty,
and blood. Each moment are the miserable Christians
dragged through the streets either to the tribunals of
the judges, or thence, having received their doom, to the
prisons.

Seeing, Fausta, that the Emperor is resolved that we
shall not be among the sufferers, and that he is also resolved
upon the total destruction of all within the walls
of Rome, from which purpose no human power can now
divert him, we feel ourselves no longer bound to this
spot, and are determined to withdraw from it, either to
Tibur or else to you. Were there any office of protection
or humanity, which it were in our power to perform
toward the accused or the condemned, you may

believe that we should remain fixed to the post of duty.
But the fearful sweep which is making, and yet to be
made, of every living soul in Rome, leaves nothing for
us to do but to stand idle and horror-struck witnesses of
sufferings and wrongs which we can do nothing to avert
or relieve. Portia shares our sorrows, and earnestly entreats
us to depart, consenting herself to accompany us.

After seeing Zenobia at Tibur, and conversing with
her and Livia, whom I found there, we have resolved
upon Palmyra, and already have I engaged a vessel
bound to Berytus. A brief interval will alone be needful
for our preparations. Portia goes with us.

In the midst of these preparations, news is brought
us by Milo that Aurelian, hastened by accounts of disturbances
in the army has suddenly started for Thrace.
But I see not that this can interfere with our movements,
unless indeed.......... What can mean this sudden
uproar in the streets? — and now within the house itself..........My
fears are come true..........

Fausta, I am a prisoner in the hands of Fronto. I
now write in chains, and Julia stands at my side bound
also. I have obtained with difficulty this grace, to seal
my letter, and bid you farewell.

Thus were Piso and Julia at length in the grasp of
the cruel and relentless Fronto. Aurelian's sudden departure
from Rome placed the whole conduct of the enterprise
he had undertaken in the hands of Varus and
the priest, who were left by the Emperor with full powers
to carry on and complete the work which he had begun.
It was his purpose however, so soon as the difficulties
in the army should be composed, himself immediately
to return, and remain till the task were ended —
the great duty done. But, as many causes might conspire
to prevent this, they were clothed with sovereign
authority to do all that the welfare of the city and the
defence and security of religion might require. I will
not charge Aurelian with an unnecessary absence at this
juncture, that so he might turn over to his tools a work,
at which his own humanity and conscience, hardened as
they were, revolted — or rather that they, voluntarily,
and moved only by their own superstitious and malignant
minds might then be free to do what they might
feel safe in believing would be an acceptable service to
their great master. I will still believe, that had he intended
the destruction of Piso and Julia, he would, with
that courage which is natural to him, have fearlessly and
unshrinkingly done the deed himself. I will rather suppose
that his ministers, without warrant from him, and
prompted by their own hate alone, ventured upon that
dark attempt, trusting when it should have once been
accomplished easily to obtain the pardon of him who,

if their reason were gone, both laugh and cry, utter
prayers and jests, in the same breath.

Soon as we found ourselves quietly in possession again
of our own home, surrounded by our own household,
Portia sitting with us and sharing our felicity, the same
feeling impelled us at once to seek Livia and Zenobia.
The Empress was, as we had already learned, at Tibur,
whither she had but this morning fled, upon finding all
interference of no avail, hoping — but how vainly —
that possibly her mother, than whose name in Rome
none was greater, save Aurelian's — might prevail,
where her words had fallen but upon deaf ears and stony
hearts. Our chariot bore us quickly beyond the walls,
and toward the palace of the Queen. And as we reached
the entrance, Zenobia at the same moment, accompanied
by Livia, Nichomachus and her usual train, was mounting
her horse for Rome. Our meeting I need not describe.
That day and evening were consecrated to love
and friendship; and many days did we pass there in the
midst of satisfactions of double worth, I suppose, from
the brief interval which separated them from the agonies
which but so lately we had endured.

All that we have as yet learned of Aurelian is this,
that he has met the fate that has waited upon so many
of the masters of the world. His own soldiers have revenged
themselves upon him. Going forth, as it is reported,
to quell a sudden disturbance in the camp, he was
set upon by a band of desperate men — made so by
threats of punishment which he ever keeps — and fell
pierced by a hundred swords. When more exact accounts
arrive, you shall hear again.

Tacitus, who has long been the idol of the senate, and

of the best part of the people of Rome, famed as you
know for his wisdom and his mild virtues, distinguished
too for his immense wealth and the elegance of his tastes,
was at once, on the news of Aurelian's death, proclaimed
Emperor — not so much however by any formal act of
the senate as by the unanimous will of all — senators and
people. For in order that the chance of peace may be
the greater, the senate, before any formal and public decree
shall be passed, will wait the pleasure of the army.
But in the meantime, he is as truly Emperor as was
Aurelian — and was, at the first moment the news of the
assassination arrived. His opinions concerning the
Christians, also, being well known, the proclamation of
his name as Augustus, was at the same time a note of
safety and deliverance to our whole community. No
name in Rome could have struck such terror into the
hearts of Varus and Fronto, as that of Tacitus — “Tacitus
Emperor!”

After our happy sojourn at Tibur, and we had once
more regained our home upon the Cœlian, we were not
long as you may believe, in seeking the street Janus, and
the dwelling of Isaac. He was happily within and
greeted us with heartiest welcome.

`Welcome, most noble Piso,' he cried, `to the street
Janus!'

`And,' I added, `to the house of a poverty-pinched
Jew! This resembles it indeed!'

`Ah! are you there, Piso? Well, well, if I have
seemed poor, thou knowest why it has been and for
what. Welcome too, Princess! enter, I pray you, and
when you shall be seated I shall at once show you what
you have come to see I doubt not — my assortment of

diamonds. Ah! the news of your arrival has spread,
and they are before me — here, Piso, is the woman of
the desert and the young Ishmael, and here, lady, are
two dark-eyed nymphs of Ecbatana. Children, this is
the beautiful Princess of Palmyra, whose name you have
heard more than once.'

It was a pretty little circle, Fausta, as the eye need
behold; and gathered together here by how strange circumstances!
The very sun of peace and joy seemed
breaking from the countenance of Isaac. He caressed
first one and then another, nor did he know how to leave
off kissing and praising them.

When we had thus sat and made ourselves known
all around to each other, Julia said to Isaac, `that she
should hope often to see him and them in the same way;
but however often it might be, and at whatever other
times, she begged that annually, on the Ides of January,
she with Piso might be admitted to his house and board,
to keep with them all a feast of grateful recollection.
Whatever it is that makes the present hour so happy to
us all, we owe, Isaac, to you.'

`Lady! to the providence of the God of Abraham!'

`In you, Isaac, I behold his providence.'

`Lady, it shall be as you say — on the Ides of January
will we, as the years go round, call up to our minds
these dark and bloody times, and give thanks for the
great redemption. Were Probus but with you, and to
be with you, Piso, your cup were full. And he had
been here, but for the voice of one who, just as the third
lion had been uncaged, fixed again the wavering mind
of Aurelian, who then, madman-like, set on him that
forest-full of beasts. At that moment I found it, Piso,
discreetest to depart.'

`And was your hand in that too, Isaac? Were those
lions of your training? and that knave's lies of your
telling?'

`Verily thou mayest mayest so.'

`But was that the part of a Jew?'

`No,' said Julia, `it was only the part of the Jew.'

`Probus,' said Isaac, `was the friend of Piso and Julia,
and therefore he was mine. If now you ask how I
love you so, I can only say I do not know. We are riddles
to ourselves. When I first saw thee, Piso, I fancied
thee, and the fancy hath held till now. Now, where
love is, there is power — high as heaven, deep as hell.
Where there is the will, the arm is strong and the wits
clear. Mountains of difficulty and seas of danger sink
into mole-hills and shallow pools. Besides, Piso, there
is no virtue in Rome but gold will buy it, and, as thou
knowest, in that I am not wanting. Any slave like Curio,
or he of the Flavian, may be had for a basket-full of
oboli. With these two clues, thou canst thread the labyrinth.'

Though our affairs, Fausta, now put on so smiling a
face, we do not relinquish the thought of visiting you;
and with the earliest relenting of the winter, so that a
Mediterranean voyage will be both safe and pleasant,
shall we turn our steps toward Palmyra.

Demetrius greatly misses his brother. But what he
has lost, you have gained.

What at this moment is the great wonder in Rome is
this — a letter has come from the Legions in Thrace in
terms most dutiful and respectful toward the senate, deploring
the death of Aurelian, and desiring that they
will place him in the number of the gods, and appoint

his successor. This is all that was wanted to confirm
us in our peace. Now we may indeed hail Tacitus as
Augustus and Emperor. Farewell.

Piso has mentioned with brevity the death of Aurelian
and the manner of it as first received at Rome. I
will here add to it the account which soon became current
in the capital, and which to this time remains without
contradiction.

Already has the name of Menestheus occurred in
these memoirs. He was one of the secretaries of the
Emperor, always near him and much in his confidence.
This seemed strange to those who knew both, for Menestheus
did not possess those qualities which Aurelian
esteemed. He was selfish, covetous, and fawning;
his spirit and manner those of a slave to such as
were above him — those of a tyrant to such as were below
him. His affection for the Emperor, of which he
made great display, was only for what it would bring
him; and his fidelity to his duties, which was exemplary,
grew out of no principle of integrity, but was
merely a part of that self-seeking policy that was the
rule of his life. His office put him in the way to amass
riches, and for that reason there was not one perhaps of
all the servants of the Emperor who performed with
more exactness the affairs intrusted to him. He had
many times incurred the displeasure of Aurelian, and
his just rebuke for acts of rapacity and extortion, by

which never the empire but his own fortune was profited;
but so deep and raging was his thirst of gold that it
had no other effect than to restrain for a season a passion,
which was destined in its further indulgence to
destroy both master and servant.

Aurelian had scarcely arrived at the camp without
the walls of Byzantium, and was engaged in the final
arrangements of the army previous to the departure for
Syria — oppressed and often irritated by the variety and
weight of the duties which claimed his care — when
about the hour of noon, as he was sitting in his tent, he
was informed, “that one from Rome with pressing
business craved to be heard of the Emperor.”

He was ordered to approach.

`And why,' said Aurelian, as the stranger entered,
`have you sped in such haste from Rome to seek me?'

`Great Cæsar, I have come for justice!'

`Is not justice well administered in the courts of
Rome, that thou must pursue me here, even to the gates
of Byzantium?'

`None can complain,' replied the Roman, `that justice
hath been withheld from the humblest since the
reign of Aurelian —'

`How then,' interrupted Aurelian, `how is it that thou
comest hither? Quick! let us know thy matter.'

`To have held back,' the man replied, `till the return
of the army from its present expedition, and the law
could be enforced, were to me more than ruin.'

`What, knave, has the army to do with thee, or thou
with it? Thy matter, quick, I say.'

`Great Cæsar,' rejoined the other, `I am the builder
of this tent. And from my work-shops came all these

various furnishings, of the true and full value of all of
which I have been defrauded —'

`By whom?'

`By one near the Emperor, Menestheus the noble
secretary.'

`Menestheus! Make out the case, and by the great
god of Light, he shall answer it. Be it but a farthing
he hath wronged thee of, and he shall answer it. Menestheus?'

`Yes, great Emperor, Menestheus. It was thus.
When the work he spoke for was done and fairly delivered
to his hands, agreeing to the value of an obolus
and the measure of a hair, with the strict commands he
gave, what does he when he sees it, but fall into a rage
and swear that 'tis not so — that the stuff is poor, the
fashion mean and beggarly, the art slight and imperfect,
and that the half of what I charged, which was five
hundred aurelians, was all that I should have, with
which, if I were not content and lisped but a syllable of
blame, a dungeon for my home were the least I might
expect; and if my knavery reached the ear of Aurelian,
from which, if I hearkened to him, it should be his
care to keep it, my life were of less value than a fly's.
Knowing well the power of the man, I took the sum he
proffered, hoping to make such composition with my
creditors, that I might still pursue my trade, for, O Emperor,
this was my first work, and being young and just
venturing forth, I was dependent upon others. But
with half the price I charged and is my due, I cannot
reimburse them. My name is gone and I am ruined.'

`The half of five hundred — say you — was that the
sum and all the sum he paid you?'

`It was. And there are here with me those that will
attest it.'

`It needs not; for I myself know that from the treasury
five hundred aurelians were drawn, and said by
him for this work — which well suits me — to have been
duly paid. Let but this be proved and his life is the
least that it shall cost him. But it must be well proved.
Let us now have thy witnesses.'

Menestheus at this point, ignorant of the charge then
making against him, entered the tent. Appalled by the
apparition of the injured man, and grasping at a glance
the truth, all power of concealment was gone, conscious
guilt was written in the color and in every line and feature
of the face.

`Menestheus!' said Aurelian, `knowest thou this
man?'

`He is Virro, an artisan of Rome;' replied the trembling
slave.

`And what think you makes him here?'

The secretary was silent.

`He has come, Menestheus, well stored with proofs,
beside those which I can furnish, of thy guilt. Shall
the witnesses be heard? Here they stand.'

Menestheus replied not. The very faculty of speech
had left the miserable man.

`How is it,' then said Aurelian in his fiercest tones,
`how is it that again for these paltry gains, already rolling
in wealth — thou wilt defile thy own soul, and bring
public shame upon me too, and Rome? Away to thy
tent! and put in order thine own affairs and mine. Thou
hast lived too long. Soldiers, let him be strongly
guarded. — Let Virro now receive his just dues. Men

call me cruel, and well I fear they may, but unjust, rapacious,
never, as I believe. Whom have I wronged,
whom oppressed? The poor of Rome, at least, cannot
complain of Aurelian. Is it not so, sirrah?'

`Rome,' he replied, `rejoices in the reign of Aurelian.
His love of justice and of the gods give him a place in
every heart.'

Whether Aurelian would have carried into execution
the threat which in a moment of passion he had passionately
uttered — none can tell. All that can be said is
this, that he rarely threatened but he kept his word.
This the secretary knew, and knew therefore, that another
day he might never see. His cunning and his wit
now stood him in good stead. A doomed man — he was
a desperate man, and no act then seemed to him a crime
by which his doom might be averted. Retiring to his
tent to fulfill the commands of the Emperor, he was
there left alone, the tent being guarded without; and
then as his brain labored in the invention of some device
by which he might yet escape the impending death and
save a life which — his good name being utterly blasted
and gone could have been but a prolonged shame — he
conceived and hatched a plan, in its ingenuity, its wickedness,
and atrocious baseness, of a piece with his whole
character and life. In the handwriting of the Emperor,
which he could perfectly imitate, he drew up a list of
some of the chief officers of the army — by him condemned
to death on the following day. This paper, as
he was at about the eleventh hour led guarded to his
place of imprisonment, he dropped at the tent door of
one whose name was on it.

It fell into the intended hands; and soon as the

friendly night had come the bloody scroll was borne
from tent to tent, stirring up to vengeance the designated
victims. No suspicion of fraud ever crossed their minds;
but amazed at a thirst of blood so insatiable, and which,
without cause assigned, could deliver over to the axe his
best and most trusted friends, Carus, Probus, Mucapor
— they doubted whether in truth his reason were not
gone, and deemed it no crime, but their highest duty, to
save themselves by the sacrifice of one who was no
longer to be held a man.

After the noon of this day the army had made a short
but quick march to Heraclea. Aurelian — the tents being
pitched — the watch set — the soldiers, weary with
their march, asleep — himself tired with the day's duty—
sat with folded arms, having just ungirded and thrown
from him his sword. His last attendant was then dismissed,
who passing from the tent door encountered the
conspirators as they rushed in, and was by them hewn
to the ground. Aurelian, at that sound, sprang to his
feet. But alone, with the swords of twenty of his
bravest generals at his breast — and what could he do?
One fell at the first sweep of his arm; but ere he could
recover himself — the twenty seemed to have sheathed
their weapons in his body. Still he fought, but not a
word did he utter till the dagger of Mucapor, raised
aloft, was plunged into his breast, with the words,

`This Aurelia sends!'

`Mucapor!' he then exclaimed as he sank to the
ground, `canst thou stab Aurelian?' Then turning toward
the others, who stood looking upon their work,
he said, `Why, soldiers and friends, is this? Hold,
Mucapor, leave in thy sword, lest life go too quick;

I would speak a word —' and he seized the wrist of
Mucapor and held it even then with an iron grasp. He
then added, `Romans! you have been deceived! You
are all my friends, and have ever been. Never more
than now —' His voice fell.

Probus then, reaching forward, cried out, unfolding at
the same moment the bloody list,

`See here, tyrant! are these thy friends?'

The eyes of Aurelian, waking up at those words with
all the intentness of life, sought the fatal scroll and
sharply scanned it — then closing again, he at the same
moment drew out the sword of Mucapor, saying as he
did so,

`'Tis the hand of Menestheus — not mine. You
have been deceived.' With that he fell backwards and
expired.

Those miserable men then looking upon one another—
the truth flashed upon them; and they knew that to save
the life of that mean and abject spirit they there stood
together murderers of the benefactor of many of them —
the friend of all — of a General and Emperor whom,
with all his faults, Rome would mourn as one who had
crowned with a new glory her Seven Hills. How did
they then accuse themselves for their unreasonable
haste — their blind credulity! How did they bewail
the cruel blows which had thus deprived them of one,
whom they greatly feared indeed, but whom also they
greatly loved! above all, one whom, as their master in
that art which in every age has claimed the admiration
of the world, they looked up to as a very god! Some
reproached themselves; some, others; some threw themselves
upon the body of Aurelian in the wildness of their

remorse and grief; and all swore vengeance upon the
miscreant who had betrayed them.

Thus perished the great Aurelian — for great he
truly was, as the world has ever estimated greatness.
When the news of his assassination reached Rome, the
first sensation was that of escape, relief, deliverance;
with the Christians, and all who favored them though
not of their faith, it was undissembled joy. The
streets presented the appearances which accompany an
occasion of general rejoicing. Life seemed all at once
more secure. Another bloody tyrant was dead, by the
violence which he had meted out to so many others,
and they were glad. But with another part of the
Roman people it was far otherwise. They lamented
him as the greatest soldier Rome had known since
Cæsar; as the restorer of the empire; as the stern but
needful reformer of a corrupt and degenerate age; as
one who to the army had been more than another Vespasian;
who, as a prince, if sometimes severe, was always
just, generous, and magnanimous. These were
they, who, caring more for the dead than for the living,
will remember concerning them only that which is
good. They recounted his virtues and his claims to
admiration—which were unquestionable and great—and
forgot, as if they had never been, his deeds of cruelty,
and the wide and wanton slaughter of thousands and
hundreds of thousands, which will ever stamp him as
one destitute of humanity, and whose almost only title
to the name of man was, that he was in the shape of
one. For how can the possession of a few of those captivating
qualities, which so commonly accompany the
possession of great power, atone for the rivers of blood
which flowed wherever he wound his way?

I have now ended what I proposed to myself. I have
arranged and connected some of the letters of Lucius
Manlius Piso, having selected chiefly those which related
to the affairs of the Christians and their sufferings during
the last days of Aurelian's reign. Those days were
happily few. And when they were passed, I deemed
that never again, so fast did the world appear to grow
wiser and better, could the same horrors be repeated.
But it was not so; and under Diocletian I beheld that
work in a manner perfected, which Aurelian did but begin.
I have outlived the horrors of those times, and at
length, under the powerful protection of the great Constantine,
behold this much-persecuted faith secure. In
this I sincerely rejoice, for it is to Christianity alone, of
all the religions of the world, may be safely intrusted
the destinies of mankind.