 | Probus, or, Rome in the third century |  |
LETTER IX.
FROM PISO TO FAUSTA.
When I turned from the palace of Aurelian and again
took my way towards the Cælian, I did it in the belief
that before the day should end, edicts against the Christians
would be published. I found, as I conversed with
many whom I met in the way, that from other sources
the same opinion had become common. In one manner
or another it had come abroad that measures had been
resolved upon by the emperor, and would soon be put in
force. Many indeed do not give the least credit to the
rumors, and believe that they all spring from the violent
language of Fronto, which has been reported as that of
Aurelian. You may wonder that there should be such
uncertainty respecting a great design like this. But
you must remember that Aurelian has of late shrouded
himself in a studied obscurity. Not a despot, in the
despotic lands of Asia, keeps more secret counsel than
he, or leans less upon the opinion or advice of others.
All that is done throughout the vast compass of the empire,
springs from him alone — all the affairs of foreign
and dependent kingdoms are arranged and determined
by him. As for Italy and the capital, they are mere
playthings in his hand. You ask if the senate does not
still exist? I answer, it does; but as a man exists
whom a palsy has made but half alive; the body is
there, but the soul is gone, and even the body is asleep.
at the capitol, and what time they sleep not away
the tedious hours in their ivory chairs, they debate such
high matters as, `whether the tax which this year falls
heavy upon Capua, by reason of a blast upon the grapes,
shall be lightened or remitted!' or `whether the petition
of the Milanese for the construction at the public expense
of a granary shall be answered favorably!' or
`whether V. P. Naso shall be granted a new trial after
defeat at the highest court!' Not that there is not virtue
in the senate — some dignity — some respect and love
for the liberties of Rome — witness myself — but that
the emperor has engrossed the whole empire to himself,
and nothing is left for that body but to keep alive the
few remaining forms of ancient liberty, by assembling
as formerly, and taking care of whatever insignificant
affairs are intrusted to them. In a great movement
like this against the Christians, Aurelian does not so
much as recognize their existence. No advice is asked,
no cooperation. And the less is he disposed to communicate
with them in the present instance perhaps, from
knowing so well that the measure would find no favor
in their eyes; but would on the contrary be violently
opposed. Everything accordingly originates in the
sovereign will of Aurelian, and is carried into effect by
his arm wielding the total power of this boundless empire
— being now, what it has been his boast to make it,
coextensive with its extremest borders as they were in
time of the Antonines. There is no power to resist
him; nor are there many who dare to utter their real
opinions, least of all a senator, or a noble. A beggar in
the street may do it with better chance of its being respected,
worse, if it be unpalatable. To the people he is still as
ever courteous and indulgent.
There is throughout the city a strange silence and
gloom, as if in expectancy of some great calamity; or of
some event of dark and uncertain character. The
Christians go about their affairs as usual, not ceasing
from any labors, nor withdrawing from the scene of
danger; but with firm step and serious air keep on
their way as if conscious of the great part which it is
theirs to act, and resolved that it shall not suffer at their
hands. Many with whom I spoke put on even a cheerful
air as they greeted me, and after the usual morning's
salutation went on as if things were in their usual
train. Others with pale face and quivering lip confessed
the inward tumult, and that if they feared naught
for themselves, there were those at home, helpless and
exposed, for whom the heart bled, and for whom it could
not but show signs of fear.
I met the elder Demetrius. His manly and thoughtful
countenance — though it betrayed nothing of weakness
— was agitated with suppressed emotion. He is a
man full of courage, but full of sensibility too. His affections
are warm and tender as those of a girl. He
asked me `what I could inform him of the truth of the rumors
which were now afloat of the most terrific character.'
I saw where his heart was as he spoke; and answered
him as you may believe with pain and reluctance.
I knew indeed that the whole truth would soon
break upon him — it was a foolish weakness — but I
could hardly bring myself to tell him what a few hours
would probably reveal. I told him however all that I
he made no reserve with regard to me, nor enjoined
concealment, I did not doubt was fully resolved upon,
and would be speedily put in force. As I spoke the
countenance of the Greek grew pale beyond its usual
hue of paleness. He bent his head as in perplexed and
anxious thought; the tears were ready to overflow as
he raised it after a moment and said,
`Piso, I am but recently a Christian. I know nothing
of this religion but its beauty and truth. It is what
I have ever longed for, and now that I possess it I value
it far more than life. But,' — he paused a moment —
`I have mingled but little with the Christians; I know
scarcely any; I am ignorant of what they require of
those who belong to their number in such emergences.
I am ready to die myself rather than shrink from a bold
acknowledgment of what in my heart I believe to be
the divinest truth; but — my wife and my children! —
must they too meet these dangers? My wife has become
what I am; my children are but infants; a Greek
vessel sails to-morrow for Scio, where dwells in peaceful
security the father of my wife, from whom I received
her, almost to his distraction; her death would
be his immolation. Should I offend' —
`Surely not,' I replied. `If, as I believe will happen,
the edicts of the emperor should be published to-day,
put them on board to-night, and let to-morrow see them
floating on the Mediterranean. We are not all to stand
still and hold our throats to the knife of this imperial
butcher.'
`God be thanked!' said Demetrius, and grasping my
hand with fervor turned quickly and moved in the direction
of his home.
Soon after, seated with Julia and Probus — he had
joined me as I parted from Demetrius — I communicated
to her all that I had heard at the palace. It neither surprised
nor alarmed her. But she could not repress
her grief at the prospect spread out before us of so much
suffering to the innocent.
`How hard is this,' said she, `to be called to bear such
testimony as must now be borne to truth! These Christian
multitudes, so many of whom have but just adopted
their new faith and begun to taste of the pleasures it imparts,
all enjoying in such harmony and quietness their
rich blessings — with many their only blessings — how
hard for them, all at once, to see the foundations of their
peace broken up, and their very lives clamored for! rulers
and people setting upon them as troops of wild beasts!
It demands almost more faith than I can boast, to sit here
without complaint a witness of such wrong. How
strange, Probus, that life should be made so difficult!
That not a single possession worth having can be secured
without so much either of labor or endurance! I
wonder if this is ever to cease on earth?'
`I can hardly suppose that it will,' said Probus. `Labor
and suffering, in some of their forms, seem both essential
to the perfection of man. My arm would be
weak as a rush were it never moved; but exercised,
and you see it is nervous and strong; plied like a
smith's, and it grows to be hard as iron and capable of
miracles. So it is with any faculty of the mind you
may select; the harder it is tasked the more worthy it
becomes; and without tasking at all, it is worth nothing.
So seems to me it is with the whole character.
In a smooth and even lot its worth never would be
in others. Greatness and worth come only of collision
and conflict. Let our path be strewed with roses, and
soft southern gales ever blow, and earth send up of her
own accord our ready prepared nutriment, and mankind
would be but one huge multitude of Sybarites, dissolved
in sloth and effeminacy. If no difficulty opposed, no
labor were exacted, both body and mind were dead.
Hence it is we may believe that man must everywhere
labor even for the food which is necessary to mere existence.
Life is made dear to us by an instinct — we
shrink from nothing as we do from the mere thought of
non-existence — but still it is death or toil; that is the
alternative. So that labor is thus insured wherever
man is found, and it is this that makes him what he is.
Then he is made, moreover, so as to crave not only food,
but knowledge as much, and also virtue; but between
him and both these objects there are interposed, for the
same reason doubtless, mountains of difficulty, which he
must clamber up and over before he can bask in the
pleasant fields that lie beyond, and then ascend the distant
mountain-tops, from which but a single step removes
him from the abode of God. Doubt it not, lady, that it
is never in vain and for naught that man labors and suffers;
but that the good which redounds is in proportion
to what is undergone, and more than a compensation.
If in these times of darkness and fear suffering is more,
goodness and faith are more also. There are Christians,
and men, made by such trials, that are never made elsewhere
nor otherwise — nor can be; just as the arm of
Hercules could not be but by the labors of Hercules.
What says Macer? Why even this, that God is to be
The brief prosperity it has enjoyed since the time of Valerian
and Macrianus, has corrupted it, and it must be
purged anew, and tried by fire! I think not that; but
I think this; that if suffering ever so extreme is ordained,
there will be a virtue begotten in the souls of
the sufferers, and abroad through them, that shall prove
it not to have been in vain.'
`I can believe what you say,' said Julia, `at least I
can believe in the virtue ascribed to labor, and the collision
with difficulty. Suffering is passive; may it not be
that we may come to place too much merit in this?'
`It is not to be doubted that we may,' replied Probus.
`The temptation to do so is great. It is easy to suffer.
In comparison with labor and duty — life-long labor and
duty — it is a light service. Yet it carries with it an
imposing air and is too apt to take to itself all the glory
of the Christian's course. Many who have lived as
Christians but indifferently have, in the hour of persecution
and in the heat of that hour, rushed upon death
and borne it well, and before it extremest torture,
and gained the crown of martyrdom and the name of
saint — a crown not always without spot — a name not
always holy. He who suffers for Christ must suffer
with simplicity — even as he has lived with simplicity.
And when he has lived so, and endured the martyr's
death at last, that is to be accounted but the last of many
acts of duty which are essentially alike — unless it may
be that in many a previous conflict over temptation and
the world and sin, there was a harder victory won and
a harder duty done than when the flames consumed him
or the beasts tare him limb from limb.'
`Yet, Probus,' continued Julia, `among the humble
and the ignorant where we cannot suppose that vanity
could operate, where men have received Christianity
only because it seemed to them just the faith they needed,
and who then when it has been required that they renounce
it, they will not do it, but hold steadfastly to
what they regard the truth of God, and for it take with
meekness and patience all manner of torture, and death
itself — there is surely here great virtue! Suffering
here has great worth and sets upon the soul the seal of
God. Is it not so?'
`Most assuredly it is,' answered Probus. `O there is
no virtue on earth greater than theirs. When dragged
from their quiet homes — unknown — obscure — despised
— solitary — with not one sympathising eye to
look on upon their sufferings — with none to record their
name — none to know it even — they do nevertheless
without faltering keep true to their faith, hugging it to
them the closer, the more it is tried to tear them asunder
— this, this, is virtue the greatest on earth! It is a
testimony borne to the truth of whatever cause is thus
supported that is daily bringing forth its fruits in the
conviction and conversion of multitudes. It is said that
in the Decian persecution it was the fortitude and patience,
under the cruelest sufferings of those humble
Christians whom no one knew, who came none knew
whence, and who were dying out of a pure inward love
of the faith they professed, that fell upon the hearts of
admiring thousands with more than the force of miracle,
and was the cause of the great and sudden growth
of our numbers which then took place. Still, suffering
and dying for a faith is not unimpeachable evidence of
suffered for idolatries the most abhorred. It is proof
indeed not at all of truth itself, but only of the deep sincerity
of him who professes it.'
`Yes,' replied Julia, `I see that it is so. But then it
is a presumption in behalf of truth, strong almost as miracles
done for it, when so many — multitudes— in different
ages, in the humblest condition of life, hesitate not
to die rather than renounce their faith in a religion like
this of Christianity; which panders to not one of man's
passions, appetites, or weaknesses, but is the severest
censor of morals the world has ever seen; which requires
a virtue and a purity in its disciples such as no
philosopher ever dared to impose upon his scholars; and
whose only promise is immortality; and even that an
immortality never to be separated from the idea of retribution
as making a part of it. They, who will suffer
and die for such a religion, do by that act work as effectively
for it, as their master by the signs and wonders
which he did. If Christianity were like many of
the forms of Paganism; or if it ministered to the cravings
of our sensual nature, as we can conceive a religion
might; if it made the work of life light, and the
reward certain and glorious; if it relieved its followers
of much of the suffering, and fear, and doubt, that oppress
others; it would not be surprising that men should
bear much for its sake; and their doing so for what appealed
so to their selfishness would be no evidence, at
all to be trusted, of its truth. But as it is, they who die
for it afford a presumption in belief of it, that assails the
reason almost or quite with the force of demonstration.
So I remember well my reason was impressed by what
Christians.'
While Julia had been saying these things, it had
seemed to me as if there was an unusual commotion in
the streets; and as she ended I was about to look for
the cause of it, when the hasty steps of several running
through the hall leading from the main entrance of the
house prevented me, and Milo breathless, followed by
others of the household, rushed into the apartment where
we sat, he exclaiming with every mark of fear and horror
upon his countenance,
`Ah! sir, it is all just as I was told by Curio it would
be; the edicts are published on the capitol. The people
are going about the streets now in crowds, talking loud
and furiously, and before night they say the Christians
will all be delivered to their pleasure.'
Soon as Milo could pause, I asked him `if he had
read or seen the edicts?'
`No, I have not,' he answered; I `heard from Curio
what they were to be.'
I told Julia and Probus that such I did not believe was
their tenor. It did not agree with usage, nor with what
I had gathered from Aurelian of his designs. But that
their import was probably no more than deprivation of a
portion of their freedom and of some of their privileges.
It was the purpose of Aurelian first to convert back
again the erring multitudes to Paganism, for which time
must be granted.
But my words had no effect to calm the agitation of
our slaves, who, filled with terror at the reports of Milo,
and at the confusion in the streets, had poured into the
room, and were showing in a thousand ways their affection
Christians, having been made so by the daily conversations
which Julia has had with them, and the instruction
she has given them in the gospels. Most however
are still of that religion in which they were reared, as
they are natives of the East, of the North, or of Africa.
But by all, with slight differences, was the same interest
manifested in our safety. They were ready to do anything
for our protection; and chiefly urgent were they
that we should that very night escape from Rome —
they could remain in security and defend the palace.
When they had thus in their simple way given free expression
to their affections, I assured them that no immediate
danger impended, but even if it did, I should
not fly from it, but should remain where I was; that
the religion for which I might suffer was worth to those
who held it a great deal more than mere life — we
could easily sacrifice life for it, if that should be required.
Some seemed to understand this — others not;
but they then retired, silent and calm, because they saw
that we were so.
Soon as they were withdrawn, I proposed to Probus
that we should go forth and learn the exact truth. We
accordingly passed to the street, which, as it is one that
forms the principal avenue from this part of the city to
the capitol, we found alive with numbers greater than
usual, with their faces turned toward that quarter. We
joined them and moved with them in the same direction.
It was a fearful thing, Fausta, even to me, who
am rarely disturbed by any event, to listen to the language
which fell on my ear on all sides from the lips of
beings who wore the same form as myself, and with me
of exultation and joy, that at length the power of the
state was about to strike at the root of this growing
evil — that one had taken hold of the work who would
not leave it, as others had, half accomplished, but would
finish it as he had every other to which he had put his
hand.
`Now we shall see what one whose hand bears the
sword of a true soldier can do, and whether he who
has slain more foes of Rome abroad than emperor before
ever did, cannot do as well by enemies at home.'
`Never doubt it,' said another. `Before the ides of
the month now just come in, not a Christian will be
seen in the streets of Rome. They will be swept out as
clean as by Varus they now are of other filth. The
prefect is just the man for the times. Aurelian could
not have been better matched.'
`Lucky this,' said still another as he hurried away,
`is it not? Three vessels arrived yesterday stowed
thick with wild beasts from Africa and Asia. By the
gods! there will be no starving for them now. The
only fear will be that gorged so they will lose their
spirit.'
`I don't fear that,' said his older companion. `I remember
well the same game twenty-five years ago.
The fact was then that the taste of human blood whetted
it for more and more, and, though glutted, their
rage seemed but to become more savage still; so that,
though hunger was fed to the full, and more, they fell
upon fresh victims with increased fury — with a sort of
madness as it were. Such food 't is said crazes them.'
Others were soon next us from whom I heard,
`Let every soul perish. I care not for that. Or
rather I do. Let all die, I say; but not in this savage
way. Let it be done by a proper accusation, trial, and
judgment. Let profession of atheism be death by a
law, and let the law be executed, and the name will
soon die. Inevitable death under a law for any one
who assumes the name, would soon do the work of extermination
— better than this universal slaughter which
I hear is to be the way. Thousands are then overlooked
in the blind popular fury; the work by and by
ceases through weariness; it is thought to be completed
— when lo! as the first fury of the storm is spent
they come forth from their hiding-places, and things are
but little better than before.'
`I think with you,' said the younger companion of
him who had just spoken; `and besides, Romans need
not the further instruction in the art of assassination,
which such a service would impart. Already nothing
comes so like nature to a Roman as to kill; kill something
— if not a beast, a slave — if there is no slave at
hand, a Christian — if no Christian, a citizen. One
would think we sucked in from our mothers not milk
but blood. If the state cannot stand secure, as our
great men say, but by the destruction of this people, in
the name of the gods, let the executioners do the work,
not our sons, brothers, and fathers. So too I say touching
the accursed games at the Flavian and elsewhere.
What is the effect but to make of us a nation of manbutchers?
as, by the gods, we already are. If the gods
send not something or somebody to mend us we shall
presently fall upon one another and exterminate ourselves.'
`Who knows but it is this very religion of the Christians
that has been sent for that work?' said a third who
had joined the two. `The Christians are famed for
nothing more than for their gentleness and care of one
another — so at least I hear.'
`Who knows, indeed?' said the other. `If it be so,
pity it were not found out soon. Aurelian will make
short work with them.'
In the midst of such conversation which on every side
caught our ears as we walked silently along, we came
at length to the neighborhood of the capitol; but so great
was the throng of the people, who in Rome have naught
else to do but to rush together upon every piece of news,
that we could not even come within sight of the building,
much less of the parchment.
We accordingly waited patiently to learn from some
who might emerge from the crowd what the precise
amount of the edicts might be. We stood not long, before
one struggling and pushing about at all adventures,
red and puffing with his efforts, extricated himself from
the mass, and adjusting his dress which was half torn
from his back, began swearing, and cursing the emperor
and his ministers for a parcel of women and fools.
`What is it?' we asked, gathering about him.
`What have you seen? Did you reach the pillar?'
`Reach it? I did; but my cloak, that cost yesterday
the good aurelians, did not, and here I stand cloakless
—'
`Well, but the edicts.'
`Well, but the edicts! Be not in a hurry, friend —
they are worth not so much as my cloak. Blank parchment
were just as good. I wonder old `sword-in-hand'
of a scrivener. If any of you hear of a cloak found
hereabouts, blue without, and lined with yellow, and
trimmed with gold, please to note the name sewed on
beneath the left shoulder, and send it according to the
direction and your labor shall not be lost.'
`But the edicts — the edicts.'
`O the edicts! why they are just this; the Christians
are told that they must neither assemble together in their
houses of worship to hear their priests, nor turn the
streets into places of worship in their stead; but leave
off all their old ways just as fast as they can and worship
the gods. There 's an edict for you!'
`Who is this?' said one to Probus.
`I do not know; he seems sadly disappointed at the
emperor's clemency, as he deems it.'
But what Probus did not know, another who at the
moment came up, did; exclaiming, as he slapped the
disappointed man on the shoulder,
`What, old fellow, you here? always where mischief
is brewing. But who ever saw you without Nero and
Sylla? What has happened? and no cloak either?'
`Nero and Sylla are in their den — for my cloak I
fear it is in a worse place. But come, give me your
arm, and let us return. I thought a fine business was
opening, and so ran up to see. But it 's all a sham.'
`It 's only put off,' said his companion, as they walked
away; `your dogs will have enough to do before the
month is half out — if Fronto knows anything.'
`That is one, I see,' said he who had spoken to Probus,
`who breeds hounds for the theatres — I thought I
had seen him before. His ordinary stock is not less
of the gladiator Sosia. His name is Hanno.'
Having heard enough we turned away and sought
again the Cœlian. You thus see, Fausta, what Rome
is made of and into what hands we may all come. Do
you wonder at my love of Christianity? at my zeal for
its progress? Unless it prosper; unless it take root and
spread through this people; their fate is sealed — to my
mind with the same certainty as if I saw their doom
written upon the midnight sky in letters of fire. Their
own wickedness will break them in pieces and destroy
them. It is a weight, beneath which no society can
stand. It must give way in general anarchy and ruin.
But my trust is that, in spite of Aurelian and of all other
power, this faith will go on its way, and so infuse itself
into the mass as never to be dislodged, and work out its
perfect regeneration.
By this decree of the emperor then, which was soon
published in every part of the capital, the Christians are
prohibited from assembling together for purposes of worship,
their churches are closed, and their preachers silenced.
One day intervenes between this, and the first day of
the week, the day on which the Christians as you may
perhaps know assemble for their worship. In the meantime
it will be determined what course shall be pursued.
Those days have passed, Fausta, and before I seal
my letter I will add to it an account of them.
Immediately upon the publication of the emperor's decrees,
the Christians throughout the city communicated
with each other, and resolved, their places of worship
being all closed and guarded, to assemble secretly, in
what was to be done, if anything, to shield themselves
from the greater evils which threatened. The
place selected was the old ruins where the house of Macer
stands. `There still remains,' so Macer urged, `a
vast circular apartment partly below and partly above
the surface of the ground, of massy walls, without windows,
remote from the streets, and so surrounded by
fallen walls and columns and rubbish as to be wholly
buried from the sight. The entrance to it was through
his dwelling, and the rooms beyond. Resorting thither
when it should be dark, and seeking his house singly
and by different avenues among the ruins, there would
be little chance of observation and disturbance.' Macer's
counsel was accepted.
On the evening of the first day of the week — a day
which since I had returned from the East to Rome had
ever come to me laden with both pleasure and profit —
I took my way under cover of a night without star or
moon, and doubly dark by reason of clouds that hung
black and low, to the appointed place of assembly. The
cold winds of autumn were driving in fitful blasts through
the streets, striking a chill into the soul as well as the
body. They seemed ominous of that black and bitter
storm that was even now beginning to break in sorrow
and death upon the followers of Christ. Before I
reached the ruins the rain fell in heavy drops, and the
wind was rising and swelling into a tempest. It seemed
to me, in the frame I was then in, better than a calm.
It was moreover a wall of defence against such as might
be disposed to track and betray us.
Entering by the door of Macer's cell, I passed through
of the steps of some who were going before me, till at
length I emerged into the vaulted hall spoken of by Macer.
It was lofty and spacious, and already filled with
figures of men and women whom the dim light of a few
lamps, placed upon the fragments of the fallen architecture,
just enabled me to discern, and distinguish from
the masses of marble and broken columns which strewed
the interior, and which when they afforded a secure footing
were covered with the assembled worshippers. The
footsteps of those who were the last to enter soon died
away upon the ear, and deep silence ensued, unbroken
by any sound save that of the sighs and weeping of such
as could not restrain their feelings.
It was interrupted by the voice of one who said,
`That the Christians of Rome were assembled here
by agreement to consult together concerning their affairs
which now by reason of the sudden hostility of Aurelian,
set on by the Pagan priesthood, had assumed a dark and
threatening aspect. It was needful so to consult; that
it might be well ascertained whether no steps could be
taken to ward off the impending evil, and if not, in what
manner and to what extent we might be able to protect
ourselves. But before this be done,' he continued, `let
us all first with one heart seek the blessing of God. Today,
Christians, for the first time within the memory of
the younger portion of this assembly, have we by the
wicked power of the state been shut out of those temples
where we have been wont to offer up our seventh day
worship. Here there is none to alarm or interrupt.
Let us give our first hour to God. So shall the day not
be lost, nor the enemy wholly prevail.'
`That is right,' said another. `It is what we all wish.
Let Probus speak to us and pray for us.'
`Felix! Felix!' cried other voices in different parts
of the room.
`Not so, but Probus! Probus!' shouted a far greater
number.
`Who does not know,' cried a shrill voice elevated to
its utmost pitch, `that Probus is a follower of Paul of
Samosata?'
`And who does not know,' responded he who had
first spoken `that Felix follows after Plato and Plotinus?
Pagans both!'
`And what,' said the sharp voice of Macer, `what if
both be true? who dare say that Felix is not a Christian?
— who dare say that Probus is not a Christian?
and if they are Christians, who shall dare to say they
may not speak to Christians? Probus was first asked,
and let Probus stand forth.'
The name of Probus was then uttered as it were by
the whole assembly.
As he moved toward a more central and elevated spot,
the same mean and shrill voice that had first charged
him, again was heard, advising that no hymn nor chant
be sung; `the Roman watch is now abroad, and despite
the raging of the storm their ears may catch the sound
and the guard be upon us.'
`Let them come then!' shouted Macer `Let them
come! Shall any fear of man or of death frighten us
away from the worship of God? What death more glorious
than if this moment those doors gave way and the
legions of Aurelian poured in? Praise God and Christ,
Christians, in the highest note you can raise, and let no
cowardice seal your lips nor abate your breath.'
The voice of Probus, now heard in prayer, brought a
deep silence upon the assembly, and I would fain believe,
harmony and peace also into the spirits of all who were
there. It was a service deeply moving and greatly comforting.
Whatever any who were present might have
thought of the principles of Probus, all must have been
penetrated and healed by that devout and benevolent
temper that was so manifest in the sentiments he uttered
and, in the very tones of his voice.
No sooner had he ended his prayer than the voice of
Macer broke forth, commencing a chant commonly heard
in the churches and with which all were familiar. His
voice, louder than that of the storm and shriller than the
blast of a war-trumpet, rang through the vast apartment,
and inspiring all who were there with the same courage
that possessed himself, their voices were instinctively
soon joined with his, and the hymn swelled upward
with a burst of harmony that seemed as if it might reach
Heaven itself. Rome and its legions were then as if
they did not exist. God only was present to the mind,
and the thoughts with which that hymn filled it. Its
burden was like this:
`O God almighty, God of Christ our Lord, arise and
defend thy people. The terrors of death are around us,
the enemies of truth and thy Son assail us, and we faint
and are afraid. Their hosts are encamped against us;
they are ready to devour us. Our hope is in thee:
Strengthen and deliver us. Arise, O God, and visit us
with thy salvation.'
These, and words like them, repeated with importunity
and dwelt upon, the whole soul pouring itself out
with the notes, while tears ran down the cheeks of those
of those affections which bound their hearts to God, to
Christ, and to one another — it seemed as if such words
and so uttered could not but reach the throne of Heaven,
and draw a blessing down. As the hymn drew to a
close and the sounds died away, deep silence again fell
upon the assembly. The heart had been relieved by
the service; the soul had been rapt and borne quite
away; and by a common feeling an interval of rest ensued,
which by each seemed to be devoted to meditation
and prayer. This, when it had lasted till the wants of
each had been satisfied, was broken by the voice of
Probus.
What he said was wonderfully adapted to infuse fresh
courage into every heart, and especially to cheer and
support the desponding and the timid. He held up before
them the great examples of those who in the earlier
ages of the church had offered themselves as sacrifices
upon the same altar upon which the great head of the
Christians had laid down his life. He made it apparent
how it had ever been through suffering of some kind on
the part of some, that great benefits had been conferred
upon mankind; that they who would be benefactors of
their race must be willing cheerfully to bear the evil and
suffering that in so great part constitutes that office; and
was it not a small thing to suffer and that in the body
only, and but for a moment, if by such means great and
permanent blessings to the souls of men might be secured,
and remotest ages of the world made to rejoice
and flourish through the effects of their labors? Every
day of their worship they were accustomed to hear sung
or recited the praises of those who had died for Christ
who, beautiful with the crown of martyrdom, were now
of that glorious company who in the presence of God
were chanting the praises of God and the Lamb.
Who was not ready to die, if it was so ordained, if by
such death truth could be transmitted to other ages?
What was it to die to-day rather than to-morrow — for
that was all — or this year rather than the next, if one's
death could be made subservient to the great cause of
Christ and his gospel? What was it to die by the sword
of a Roman executioner, or even to be torn by wild
beasts, if by suffering so the soul became allied to reformers
and benefactors of all ages? And besides, what
evil after all was it in the power of their enemies to inflict?
They could do no more than torment and destroy
the body. They could not touch nor harm the soul. By
the infliction of death itself they did but hasten the moment
when they should stand clothed in shining garments
in the presence of the Father. The time has
come, Christians, he then said, when in the providence
of God you are called upon to be witnesses of the faith
which you profess in Christ. After many years of
calm, a storm has arisen which begins already to be felt
in the violence with which it beats upon our heads. Almost
ever since the reign of Decius have we possessed
our borders in quietness. Especially under Gallienus
and Claudius, and during these nearly four years of Aurelian,
have we enjoyed our faith and our worship with
none to alarm or oppress us. The laws of the empire
have been as a wall of defence between us and the fierce
and bloody spirit of Pagan superstition. They who
would have willingly assailed and destroyed us have
During this season of repose our numbers have increased,
we have been prosperous and happy. Our
churches have multiplied, and all the signs of an outward
prosperity have been visible in all parts of this vast
empire. Would to God I could say that while numbers
and wealth have been added to the church, it had grown
in grace and in the practice of the virtues of the gospel
in the same proportion! But I cannot. The simplicity
and purity of the first ages are no longer to be seen
among us. We no longer emulate the early apostles
and make them our patterns. We rather turn to the
Pagan and Jewish priesthood, and in all that pertains to
the forms of our worship mould ourselves upon them; and
in all that pertains to opinion and doctrine we turn to
the philosophers and engraft whatever of their mysteries
and subtleties we can upon the plain and simple truth
as it is in Jesus. We have departed far, very far, from
the gospel standard, both in practice and in faith. We
need, Christians, to be brought back. We have gone
astray — we have almost worshipped other gods, — it is
needful that we return in season, while the day lasts, to
our true allegiance. I dare not say, Christians, that
the calamity which now impends is a judgment of God
upon our corruptions; we know not what events are of
a judicial character, they have upon them no signature
which marks them as such; but this we may say, that
it will be no calamity, but a benefit and a blessing rather,
if it have the effect to show us our errors and cause us
to retrace our steps. Aurelian, enemy though we call
him, may prove our benefactor; he may scourge us;
but the sufferings he inflicts may bring healing along
needs. Let us meet then this new and heavy trial as a
part of the providence of God, as a part of that mysterious
plan — the lines of which are in so great part hidden
from our eyes — by which he educates his children for
eternity, and at the same time, and by the same means,
prepares and transmits to future generations the richest
blessings. If we, Christians, suffer for the cause of truth
and God, let us be cheered by the thought that by our
sufferings our children and children's children are made
to inherit that truth, and brought into the family of God.
If our blood is poured out like water, let us remember
that it serves to fertilize that soil out of which divine nutriment
shall grow for generations yet unborn, whom it
shall nourish up unto eternal life. Let your hearts then
be strong within you; faint not, nor fear; God will be
with you and his Spirit comfort you.
`But why do I say these things? Why do I exhort
you to courage? For when was it known that the followers
of Christ shrunk from the path of duty, though
it were evidently the path of death? When and in
what age have those been wanting who should bear witness
to the truth, and seal it with their blood? There
have been those who in time of persecution have fallen
away — but for one apostate there have been a thousand
martyrs. We have been, I may rather affirm, too
prodigal of life — too lavish of our blood. There has
been, in former ages, not only a willingness, a readiness
to die for Christ, but an eagerness. Christians have
not waited to be searched for and found by the ministers
of Roman power; they have thrust themselves forward;
they have gone up of their own accord to the
at which nature trembles and revolts. But shall we
blame this divine ardor? this more than human contempt
of suffering and death? this burning zeal for the
great cause of our Master? Let us rather honor and
revere it as a temper truly divine and of more than
mortal force. But let us be just to all. While we
honor the courage and self-sacrificing love of so many,
let us not require that all should be such, nor cast suspicion
upon those who — loving Christ not less in their
hearts — shrink from the sufferings in which others
glory. Ye need not, Christian men and women, yourselves
rush to the tribunal of Varus, ere you can feel
that you are Christ's indeed. It is not needful that to
be a Christian you must also be a martyr. Ye need
not, ye ought not, impatiently seek for the rack and the
cross. It is enough if, when sought and found and arraigned,
you be found faithful; if then you deny not
nor renounce your Lord, but glory in your name, and
with your dying breath shout it forth as that for which
you gladly encounter torture and death. Go not forth
then seeking the martyr's crown! Wait till you are
called. God knoweth, and he alone, whom he would
have to glorify him by that death which is so much
more to be coveted than life. Leave all in the hand of
Providence. You that are not chosen, fear not that,
though later, the gates of Heaven shall not be thrown
open for you. Many are the paths that lead to those
gates. Besides, shall all rush upon certain death?
Were all martyrs, where then were the seed of the
church? They who live, and by their life consecrate to
holiness and God show that they are his, do no less for
that cause. Nay, 't is easier to die well than to live
well. The cross which we bear through a long life of
faithful service, is a heavier one than that which we
bear as we go up our Calvary. Leave all then, Christian
men and women, in the hands of God. Seek not
death nor life. Shun not life nor death. Say each,
“Here, Lord, is thy servant, do with him as shall seem
to thee good.”
`And now, Christians, how shall we receive the edict
of Aurelian? It silences our preachers, it closes our
churches. What now is the duty of the Christians of
Rome?'
Soon as this question was proposed by Probus, many
voices from various parts of the room gave in their judgments.
At first the opinions expressed differed on many
points, but as the discussion was prolonged the difference
grew less and less, till unanimity seemed to be attained.
It was agreed at length, that it was right to
conform to the edict so far as this: `That they would
not preach openly in the streets nor elsewhere. They
would at first and scrupulously conform to the edict in
its letter and spirit — until they had seen what could be
done by appeals both to the emperor and the senate —
but maintaining at the same time that if their appeals
were vain, if their churches were not restored to them
with liberty to assemble in them as formerly and for the
same purposes — then they would take the freedom that
was not granted, and use it as before, and abide by the
issue — no power of man should close their mouths as
ambassadors of God, as followers of Christ and through
him reformers of the world. They would speak — they
reward.”
In this determination I heartily agreed as both moderate
and yet firm; as showing respect for the powers that
are over us, and at the same time asserting our own
rights and declaring our purpose to stand by them. But
so thought not all. For no sooner was the opinion of
the assembly declared than Macer broke forth:
`I have heard,' said he, `the judgment which has
been pronounced. But I like it not — I agree not to it.
Shall the minister of Christ, the ambassador of God, a
messenger from Heaven to earth, hold his peace at the
behest of a man, though he be an emperor, or of ten
thousand men, were all emperors? Not though every
Christian in Rome subscribed to this judgment, not
though every Christian in the world assented to it,
would I. Is Christ to receive laws of Aurelian? Is
the cause of God and truth to be postponed to that of
the empire? and posterity to die of hunger because we
refuse to till the earth? We are God's spiritual husbandmen
— the heart of Rome is our field of labor —
it is already the eleventh hour — the last days are at
hand — and shall we forbear our toil? shall we withdraw
our hand from the plough? shall we cease to proclaim
the glad tidings of salvation because the doors of
our churches are closed? Not so, Christians, by the
blessing of God, shall it be with me. While the streets
of Rome and her door-stones will serve me for church
and pulpit, and while my tongue is left unwrenched
from my mouth, will I not cease to declare Jesus Christ
and him crucified! Think you Aurelian will abate his
wrath or change his purposes of death, for all your
aside the messengers of death? Believe it not. Ye
know not Aurelian. More would you gain with him,
did the faith of the peace-loving Jesus allow it, if ye
went forth in battle array and disputed this great question
in the streets of Rome sword in hand! More
would ye gain now, if ye sent a word of defiance — denying
his right to interpose between God and his people
— between Christ and his church — and daring him
to do his worst, than by this tame surrender of your
rights — this almost base denial of your Master. No
sooner shall to-morrow's sun have risen than on the
very steps of the capitol will I preach Christ, and hurl
the damnation of God upon this bloody emperor and his
bloody people.'
`O, Macer, Macer! cease, cease!' cried a woman's
voice from the crowd. `You know not what you say!
Already have your harsh words put new bitterness into
Aurelian's heart. Forbear, as you love Christ and us.'
`Woman —' replied Macer, `for such your voice declares
you to be — I do love both Christ and you, and it
is because I love you that I aim to set aside this faithless
judgment of the Roman Christians. But when I
say I love you, and the believers in Rome, I mean your
souls, not your bodies. I love not your safety, nor your
peace, nor your outward comforts; your houses, nor
your wealth, nor your children, nor your lives, nor anything
that is yours which the eye can see or the hands
handle. I love your souls, and beside them nothing.
And while it is them I love and for them am bound
in the spirit as a minister of Christ, I may not hold my
peace, nor hide myself, for that there is a lion in the
Though at the last day I hear no ether word of praise
from Him the judge — and no other shall I hear, for my
Pagan sins weigh me down — down — help, Lord! or I
perish! —' Macer's voice here took the tone of deepest
agony; he seemed for a time wholly lost, standing
still, with outstretched arms and uplifted eye. After a
long pause he suddenly resumed. `What did I say?—
It was this: though I hear no other word of praise from
my judge as I stand at his judgment-seat, I trust I shall
hear this, that I did not flee nor hide myself, that I was
no coward, but a bold and fearless soldier of the cross,
ready at any time and at all times to suffer for the souls
of my brethren.'
`Think not, Macer,' said Probus, `that we shrink
at the prospect of danger. But we would be not
only bold and unshrinking, but wise and prudent.
There is more than one virtue goes to make the Christian
man. We think it right and wise first to appeal to
the emperor's love of justice. We think it might redound
greatly to our advantage if we could obtain a
public hearing before Aurelian, so that from one of our
own side he might hear the truth in Christ, and then
judge whether to believe so was hurtful to the state or
deserving of torture and death.'
`As well, Probus,' replied Macer, `might you preach
the faith of Christ in the ear of the adder! to the very
stones of the highways! Aurelian turn from a settled
purpose! ha! ha! you have not served, Probus, under
him in Gaul and Asia as others have. Never did the
arguments of his legions and his great officers on the
other side serve but to intrench him the more impregnably
means. But were this possible and of good hope, it
shows not that plain and straight path to which my spirit
points, and which therefore I must travel. Is it right to
hearken to man rather than God? That to me is the
only question. Shall Aurelian silence the ambassador
of God and Christ? Shall man wrestle and dispute it
with the Almighty? To me, Christians, it would be a
crime of deeper dye than the errors of my Pagan youth,
did I chain my tongue were it but for an hour at the
command of Aurelian. I have a light within, and it is
that I must obey. I reason not — I weigh not probabilties
— I balance not argument against argument — I feel!
and that I take to be the instinct of God — the inspiration
of his holy Spirit — and as I feel so am I bound
to act.'
It was felt to be useless to reason with this impetuous
and self-willed man. He must be left to work out his
own path through the surrounding perils, and bear whatever
evil his violent rashness might draw upon his head.
Yet his are those extreme and violent opinions and feelings
which are so apt to carry away the multitude, and
it was easy to see that a large proportion of the assembly
went with him. Another occasion was given for their
expression.
When it had been determined that the edicts should
be observed so far as to refrain from all public preaching
and all assembling together, till the emperor had been
first appealed to, it then became a question in what manner
the emperor should be approached, and by whom, in
behalf of the whole body. And no sooner had Macer
ceased, than the same voice which had first brought
voice as I have since learned of a friend of Felix, and
an exorcist.
`If it be now determined,' said the voice, `that we appeal
to the clemency of the emperor in order to avert
from our heads the evil that seems to be more than
threatened, let it be done by some one who in his faith
may fitly represent the great body of Christ's followers.
Whether the emperor shall feel well inclined toward us
or not, will it not greatly depend upon the manner in
which the truth in Christ shall be set forth, and whether
by means of the principles and doctrines that shall be
shown to belong to it and constitute it, it shall be judged
by him to be of hurtful or beneficial tendency? Now it
is well known to all how variously Christ is received
and interpreted in Rome. As received by some, his
gospel is one thing; as received by others, is another
and quite a different thing. Who can doubt that our
prospect of a favorable hearing with Aurelian will be an
encouraging one in the proportion that he shall perceive
our opinions to agree with those which have already
been advanced in the schools of philosophy — especially
in that of the divine Plato. This agreement and almost
identity has, ever since the time of Justin, been pointed
out and learnedly defended. They who perceive this
agreement, and rest in it as their faith, now constitute
the greater part of the Christian world. Let him then
who is to bespeak for us the emperor's good-will be, as
in good sooth he ought to be, of these opinions. As to
the declaration that has been made that one is as much
a Christian as another, whatever the difference of faith
may be, I cannot receive it; and he who made the declaration,
learn he is a worshipper and follower of that false-hearted
interloper Novatian. The puritans least of all are apt to
regard with favor those who hold not with them. Let
Felix then, who, if any now living in Rome may stand
forward as a specimen of what Christ's religion is in
both its doctrine and its life — let Felix plead our cause
with Aurelian.'
The same difference of feeling and opinion manifested
itself as before. Many voices immediately cried out,
`yes, yes, Felix, let Felix speak for us.' While others
from every part of the room were heard shouting out,
`Probus, Probus, let Probus be our advocate!'
At length the confusion subsided as a single voice
made itself heard above the others and caught their attention.
`If Felix, O Christians, as has just been affirmed,
represents the opinions which are now most popular in
the Christian world, at least here in Rome, Probus represents
those which are more ancient —' He was instantly
interrupted.
`How long ago,' cried another, `lived Paul of Samosata?'
`When died the heretic Sabellius?' added still another.
`Or Praxeas?' said a third, `or Theodotus? or Artemon?'
`These,' replied the first, soon as he could find room
for utterance — `these are indeed not of the earliest age,
but they from whom they learned their faith are of that
age, namely, the apostles and the great master of all.'
`Heresy,' cried out one who had spoken before, `always
dates from the oldest; it never has less age nor
authority than that of Christ.'
`Christians! Christians!' Macer's stentorian voice
was now heard towering above the tumult `what is it
ye would have? What are these distinctions about
which ye dispute? What have they to do with the matter
now in hand? How would one doctrine or the other
in such matters weigh with Aurelian more than straws
or feathers? But if these are stark naught, and less
than naught, there are other questions pertinent to the
time, nay which the time forces upon us, and about
which we should be well agreed. A new age of persecution
has arisen, and the church is about to be sifted,
and the wheat separated from the chaff — the first to be
gathered into the garners of God the last to be burned
up in fire unquenchable. Now is it to be proved who
are Christ's and who are not — who will follow him
bearing their cross to some new Calvary, and who,
saving their lives, shall yet lose them. Who knows not
the evil that in the time of Decius, yes and before and
since too, fell upon the church from the so easy reception
and restoration of those who in an hour of weakness
and fear denied their master and his faith and bowed
the knee to the gods of Rome? Here is the danger
against which we are to guard; from this quarter — not
from any other of vain jargon concerning natures, essences,
and modes of being — are we to look for those fatal
inroads to be made upon the purity of the gospel, that
cannot but draw along with them corruption and ruin.
Of what stuff will the church then be made when they
who are its ministers, deacons, and bishops, shall be
such as when danger showed itself, relapsed into idolatry,
and soon as the clouds had drifted by and the winds
blew soft came forth again into the calm sunshine, renounced
received to the arms of the church and even to the communion
of the body and blood of our Lord? Christians,
the great Novatian is he to whom we owe what purity
the church yet retains, and it is in allegiance to him —'
`The great Novatian!' exclaimed a priest of the Roman
church, `great only in his infamy! Himself an
apostate once, he sought afterwards, having been received
himself back again to the church upon his repentance,
to bury his shame under a show of zeal against
such as were guilty of the same offence. His own
weakness or sin, instead of teaching him compassion,
served but to harden his heart. Is this the man to
whose principles we are to pledge ourselves? Were his
principles sound in themselves we could hardly take
them from such a source. But they are false. They
are in the face of the spirit and letter of the gospel.
What is the character of the religion of Christ, if it be
not mercy? Yet this great Novatian to those who like
Peter have fallen — Peter whom his master received and
forgave — denies all mercy! and for one offence, however
penitence may wring the soul, cuts them off forever
like a rotten branch from the body of Christ! Is this
the teacher whose follower should appeal for us to the
Roman emperor?'
`I seek not,' Macer began to say, `to defend the bishop
of Rome —'
`Bishop!' cried the other, `bishop! who ever heard
that Novatian was bishop of Rome? But who has not
heard that that wicked and ambitious man through envy
of Cornelius, and resolved to supplant him, caused himself
to be ordained bishop by a few of that order, weak
who, corrupt as they were, and bribed as they were, it
was first needful to make drunk before conscience would
allow them by such act eternally to disgrace themselves
and the church —'
`Lies and slanders all,' cried Macer and others with
him in the same breath and with their utmost voice.
At the same time many were heard to name Macer as
one who would best assert and defend the Christian
cause before Aurelian. But these were soon overborne
and silenced by the greater number of those who now
again called upon Probus to fill that office.
Probus seemed not sorry that, his name being thus
tumultuously called out, he had it in his power to speak
to the assembly. Making a sign accordingly that he
would be heard, he said,
`That he coveted not the honorable office of appealing
for them to the Emperor of Rome. It would confer more
happiness a thousand fold, Christians, if I could by any
words of mine put harmony and peace into your hearts
than if I might even convert a Roman emperor. What
a scene is this, at such an hour — of confusion and discord
— when, if ever, our hearts should be drawn closer
together by this exposure to a common calamity. Why
is it that when at home, or moving abroad in the business
of life, your conversation so well becomes your
name and faith, drawing upon you even the commendation
of your Pagan foes, you no sooner assemble together
as now than division and quarrel ensue in such
measure as among our Heathen opponents is never or
rarely seen? Why is it that when you are so ready,
Christians, to die for Christ, you will not live at peace
you are of his spirit, that for his name's sake you are
willing to bear patiently whatever reproach may be laid
upon you, than you do even by suffering and dying for
him? for which is the harder service, to lay down a life
often so hard beset by sorrow and pain, and thereupon
enter through Heaven's gates into the immediate and
eternal glory of God, or to live on many and weary days
of patient doing and bearing, toiling without ceasing —
oftentimes trampled upon, cast out as an offence — despised
— scorned; and with the first teachers a spectacle
of misery and compassion to angels and to men? Be
not so ready then to take upon you the lighter burden
and the easier yoke, while you shrink from the heavier
one, but for that reason the more honorable. Let all
who are here but show their love of Christ as perfectly
in their tempers, as they would to-morrow, were they
summoned to the trial, by meeting without a murmur or
a groan the rods and the axe of the executioner, and a
day of a new and better glory will have risen upon the
church. The questions you have agitated are not for
this hour and place. What now does it signify whether
one be a follower of Paul, of Origen, of Sabellius, or Novatian,
when we are each and all so shortly to be called
upon to confess our allegiance to neither of these — but
to a greater, even Jesus — the master and head of us
all! And what has our preference for some of the doctrines
of either of these to do with our higher love of
Christ and his truth? By such preference is our superior
and supreme regard for Jesus and his word vitiated
or invalidated? Nay what is it we then do when
we embrace the peculiar doctrine of some great or good
peculiar sense we regard as the doctrine of Christ? We
receive the peculiar doctrine of Paul, or Justin, or Origen,
not because it is theirs, but because we think they
have shown it to be eminently the doctrine of Christ.
In binding upon us then the dogmas of any teacher, we
ought not to be treated other than as those who in doing
so are seeking to do the highest honor not to such
teacher, but to Christ. I am charged as a disciple of
the bishop of Antioch, and the honored Felix as a disciple
of Plato. If I honor Paul, Christians, for any of
his truth, it is because I deem him to have discerned
clearly the truth as it is in Jesus. My faith is not
in him, but in Jesus. And if Felix honor Plato or
Plotinus, it is but because in them he beholds some
clearer unfolding — clearer than elsewhere — of the truth
in Christ. Are not we then, and all who do the same
thing, to be esteemed as those who honor Christ? not
deny or forsake him. And as we all hold in especial
reverence some one or another of a former age, through
whom as a second master we receive the doctrines of
the gospel, ought we not all to love and honor one
another, seeing that in the same way, we all love and
honor Christ? Let love, Christians, mutual honor and
love, be the badge of our discipleship, as it was in the
first age of the church. Soon, very soon, will you be
called to bear testimony to the cause you have espoused,
and perhaps seal it with your blood. Be not less ready
to show your love to those around you by the promptness
with which you lend your sympathy, or counsel, or
aid, as this new flood of adversity flows in upon them.
But why do I exhort you? The thousand acts of kindness,
of charity, of brotherly love, which flow outwards
than Christian, and have drawn upon you the admiration
even of the Pagan world, is sufficient assurance that
your hearts will not be cold when the necessities of this
heavier time shall lay upon you their claims. It is only
in the public assembly, and in the ardor of debate, that
love seems cold and dead. Forget then, now and tomorrow,
that you are followers of any other than Christ.
Forget that you call yourselves after one teacher or
another, and remember only that you are brethren, members
of one family, of the same household of faith, owning
one master, worshipping one and the same God and
Father of us all. And now, Christians, if you would
rather that Felix should defend you before Aurelian, I
would also. There is none among us who loves Christ
more or better than he, or would more readily lay down
his life for his sake.'
Felix however joined with all the others — for all now
seemed of one opinion — in desiring that Probus should
appear for the Christians before the Emperor; which he
then consented to do. Harmony was once more restored.
The differences of opinion which separated them seemed
to be forgotten, and they mingled as friends and fellow-laborers
in the great cause of truth. They who had
been harshest in the debate — which was at much greater
length, and conducted with much more vehemence than
as I have described it — were among the most forward
to meet with urbanity those who were in faith the most
distantly removed from them. A long and friendly interview
then took place, in which each communed with
each, and by words of faith or affection helped to supply
the strength which all needed for the approaching conflict.
disputant, more bent upon victory than truth,
and heedless of the wounds he gave to the heart, provided
he convinced the head or silenced the tongue, but
instead, those who now appeared no other than a company
of neighbors and friends engaged in the promotion
of some common object of overwhelming interest.
When in this manner and for a considerable space of
time a fit offering had been laid upon the altar of love,
the whole assembly again joined together in acts of
prayer, and again lifted up their voices in songs of
praise. This duty being performed we separated and
sought the streets. The storm which had begun in violence,
had increased, and it was with difficulty that beset
by darkness, wind, and rain, I succeeded without injury
in finding my way to the Cœlian.
Julia was waiting for me with anxious impatience.
After relating to her the events of the evening, she
said,
`How strange, Lucius, the conduct of such men at
such a time! How could Christians with the Christian's
faith in their hearts so lose the possession of
themselves — and so violate all that they profess as followers
of Jesus! I confess if this be the manner in
which Christianity is intended to operate upon the character,
I am as yet wholly ignorant of it, and desire ever
to remain so. But it is not possible that they are right.
Nay, they seem in some sort to have acknowledged
themselves to have been in the wrong by the last acts of
the meeting. This brings to my mind what Paul has
often told me of the Christians, of the same kind at which
I was then amazed but had forgotten. I do not comprehend
the teachings of Jesus, and it seems to me I have arrived
at some true understanding — for surely there is little
difficulty in doing so — of what he himself was, and of
what he wished his followers to be. Would he have
recognized his likeness in those of whom you have now
told me?'
`Yet,' I replied, `there was more of it there in those
very persons than at first we might be inclined to think;
and in the great multitude of those who were present it
may have been all there, and was in most I cannot
doubt. We ought not to judge of this community by the
leaders of the several divisions which compose it. They
are by no means just specimens, from which to infer the
character of all. They are but too often restless, ambitious,
selfish men; seeking their own aggrandizement
and their party's, rather than the glory of Christ and his
truth. I can conceive of a reception of Christian precept
and of the Christian spirit being but little more perfect
and complete than I have found it among the humbler
sort of the Christians of Rome. Among them there
is to be seen nothing of the temper of violence and bigotry
that was visible this evening in the language of so
many. They for the most part place the religion of
Jesus in holy living, in love of one another, and patient
waiting for the kingdom of God. And their lives are
seen to accord with these great principles of action. Even
for their leaders, who are in so many points so different
from them, this may be said in explanation and excuse
— that from studying the record more than the common
people, they come to consider more narrowly in what
the religion of Jesus consists, and arriving after much
truth, — truth the most vital of any to the power
and success of the gospel, this engrosses all their affections
and prompts all their labor and zeal; in the dissemination
of this do they alone behold the dissemination
of Christianity itself — this being denied or rejected the
gospel itself is. With such notions as fundamental principles
of action, it is easy to see with what sincere and
virtuous indignatin they would be filled toward such as
should set at nought and oppose that which they cherish
as the very central glory and peculiarity of Christianity.
These things being so, I can pity and forgive a great deal
of what appears and is so opposite to the true Christian
temper, on account of its origin and cause. Especially
as these very persons, who are so impetuous and truculent
almost, as partizans and advocates, are as private
Christians examples perhaps of extraordinary virtue.
We certainly know this to be the case with Macer. An
apostle was never more conscientious, or more pure.
Yet would he, had he power equal to his will, drive
from the church all who bowed not the knee to his idol
Novatian.'
`But how,' asked Julia, `would that agree with the
offence he justly took at those who quareled with Probus
and Felix on account of their doctrine?'
`There certainly would be in such conduct no agreement
nor consistency. It only shows how easy it is to
see a fault in another, to which we are stone-blind in
ourselves. In the faith or errors of Probus and Felix
he thought there was nothing that should injure their
Christian name, or unfit them for any office. Yet in
the same breath he condemned as almost the worst enemies
the severe and inhuman code of his master Novatian.'
`But how far removed, Lucius, is all this from the
spirit of the religion of Jesus! Allowing all the force
of the apologies you may offer, is it not a singular state
for the minds and tempers of those to have arrived at,
who profess before the world to have formed themselves
after the doctrine, and what is more after the character
of Christ? I cannot understand the process by which
it has been done, nor how it is that without bringing
upon themselves public shame and reproach such men
can stand forth and proclaim themselves not only Christians,
but Christian leaders and ministers.'
`I can understand it I confess quite as little. But I
cannot doubt that as Christianity outgrows its infancy,
especially when the great body of those who profess it
shall have been formed by it from their youth and shall
not be composed as now of those who have been brought
over from the opposite and uncongenial regions of Paganism,
with much of their former character still adhering
to them, Christians will then be what they ought
to be who make the life and character of Jesus their
standard. Nothing is learned so slowly by mankind as
those lessons which enforce mutual love and respect, in
which the gospels so abound. We must allow not only
years, but hundreds of years, for these lessons to be
imprinted upon the general heart of men, and to be
seen in all their character and intercourse. But when
a few hundred years shall have elapsed, and that is a
long allowance for this education to be perfected in, I
can conceive that the times of the primitive peace and
love shall be more than restored, and that such reproaches
another will be deemed as little compatible with a Christian
profession as would be violence and war. All violence
and wrong must cease as this religion is received,
and the ancient superstitions and idolatries die out.'
`What a privilege, to be born and live,' said Julia, `in
those fast approaching years, when Christianity shall
alone be received as the religion of this large empire;
when Paganism shall have become extinct in Rome,
and all our people shall be actuated by the same great
principles of faith and virtue that governed both Christ
and his apostles! A few centuries will witness more
and better than we now dream of.'
So we pleased ourselves with visions of future peace
and happiness which Christianity was to convert to reality.
To me they are no more mere visions, but as
much realities to be experienced, as the future towering
oak is, when I look upon an acorn planted, or as the future
man is, when I look upon a little child. If Christianity
grows at all, it must grow in such direction. If
it do not, it will not be Christianity that grows, but
something else that shall have assumed its name and
usurped its place. The extension of Christianity is the
extension and multiplication as it were of that which
constituted Christ himself — it is the conversion of men
into his image — or else it is nothing. Then when this
shall be done, what a paradise of peace, and holiness,
and love, will not the earth be! Surely to be used as
an instrument in accomplishing such result, one may
well regard as an honor and privilege, and be ready to
bear and suffer much if need be in fulfilling the great
office.
I hope I shall not have wearied you by all this exactness.
I strictly conform to your injunctions, so that you
can complain only of yourself.
We often wish that the time would allow us to escape
to you, that we might witness your labors and
share them in the rebuilding and reëmbelishing of the
city. Rome will never be a home to Julia. Her affections
are all in Syria. I can even better conceive of
Zenobia becoming a Roman than Julia. Farewell.
Finding among the papers of Piso no letter giving
any account of what took place immediately after the
meeting of the Christians, which in his last letter he
has so minutely described, I shall here supply as I may
the deficiency, and I can do it at least with fidelity,
since I was present at the scenes of which I shall speak.
No one took a more lively interest in the condition and
affairs of the Christians than Zenobia; and it is with
sorrow that I find among the records of Piso no mention
made of conversations had at Tibur while these events
were transpiring, at which were present himself, and the
princess Julia, the queen, and more than once Aurelian
and Livia. While I cannot doubt that such record was
made, I have in vain searched for it among those documents
which he has intrusted to me.
It was by command of the queen that on the day following
that on which the Christians held their assembly
at the baths, I went to Rome for the very purpose to
in the city concerning the condition and probable fate of
the Christians, she desiring more precise information
than could be gathered from any of the usual sources of
intelligence.
It was apparent to me as I entered the city, and penetrated
to its more crowded parts, that somewhat unusual
had taken place, or was about to happen. There were
more than the common appearances of excitement among
those whom I saw conversing and gesticulating at the
corners of streets or the doors of the public baths. This
idle and corrupt population seemed to have less than on
other occasions to employ their hands, and so gave their
time and their conversation to one another, laying no
restraint upon the quantity of either. It is an indisputable
fact that Rome exists to this day, for any one who
will come into Italy may see it for himself, and he cannot
reject the testimony of his eyes and ears. But how
it exists from year to year, or from day to day, under
such institutions, it would puzzle the wisest philosopher
I believe to tell. Me, who am no philosopher, it puzzles
as often as I reflect upon it. I cannot learn the
causes that hold together in such apparent order and
contentment so idle and so corrupt a people. I have
supposed it must be these, but they seem not sufficient:
the Prætorian camp without the walls, and the guard in
league with them within, and the largesses and games
proceeding from the bounty of the emperor. These last,
though they are the real sources of their corruption and
must end in the very destruction of the city and people,
yet at present operate to keep them quiet and in order.
So long as these bounties are dispensed, so long, such
mass think it foolish to agitate any questions of right
or religion, or any other, by which they might be forfeited.
Were these suddenly suspended, all the power
of the Prætorian cohorts I suppose could not keep peace
in Rome. They were now I found occupied by the affairs
of the Christians, and waiting impatiently for the
orders which should next issue from the imperial will.
The edicts published two days before gave them no employment,
nor promised much. They merely laid restraints
upon the Christians, but gave no liberty of assault
and injury to the Roman.
`That does not satisfy the people,' said one to me, at
the door of a shop, of whom I had made some inquiry
on the subject. `More was looked for from the emperor,
for it is well known that he intends the extremest
measures, and most are of opinion that before the day
is out new edicts will be issued. Why he took the
course he did of so uncommon moderation 'tis hard to
say. All the effect of it is to give the Christians opportunity
to escape and hide themselves, so that by the
time the severer orders against them are published, it
will be impossible to carry them into execution.'
`Perhaps,' I said, `it was after all his intention to give
them a distant warning, that some might, if they saw
fit to do so, escape.'
`I do not believe that,' he replied; `it will rather, I
am of the opinion, be found to have proceeded from the
advice of Fronto and Varus, to give to the proceedings
a greater appearance of moderation; which shows into
the hands of what owls the emperor has suffered himself
to fall. Nobody ever expected moderation in Aurelian,
wretches deserve it. The only effect of it will be to increase
their swelling insolence and pride, thinking that
Aurelian threatens but dares not execute. Before another
day, I trust, new edicts will show that Aurelian is
himself. The life of Rome hangs upon the death of
these.'
Saying which, with a savage scowl, which showed
how gladly he would turn executioner or tormentor in
such service, he turned and crossed the street.
I then sought the palace of Piso. I was received in
the library, where I found the lady Julia and Piso.
They greeted me as they ever did, rather as if I were
a brother than but the servant of Zenobia. But whatever
belongs to her, were it but so much as a slave of
the lowest office, would they treat with affection at
least, if not with reverence. After answering their inquiries
after the welfare of the queen and Faustula, I
made mine concerning the condition of the city and the
affairs of the Christians, saying, `that Zenobia was anxious
to learn what ground there was, or whether any,
to feel apprehension for the safety of that people?'
Piso said, `that now he did not doubt there was great
ground for serious apprehension. It was believed by
those who possessed the best means of intelligence, that
new edicts of a much severer character would be issued
before another day. But that Zenobia need be under
no concern either as to himself or Julia, since the emperor
in conversation with him as much as assured
him that whatever might befal others, no harm should
come to them.'
He then gave me an account of what the Christians
to be found in the preceding letter.
I then asked whether he thought that the Christian
Macer would keep to the declaration he had made that
he would to-day, the edicts notwithstanding, preach in
the streets of Rome? He replied that he did not doubt
that he would, and that if I wished to know what some
of the Christians were, and what the present temper of
the people was towards them, I should do well to seek
him and hear him.
`Stand by him, good Nichomachus,' said Julia, `if at
any moment you find that you can be of service to him.
I have often heretofore blamed him, but since this murder
of Aurelia, and the horrors of the dedication, I hold
him warranted and more in any means he may use to
rouse this guilty people. Perhaps it is only by the laceration
of such remedies as he uses that the heart of Rome
— hardened by ages of sin — can be made to feel. To
the milder treatment of Probus, and others like him, it
seems sometimes utterly insensible and dead. At least
his sincerity and his zeal and his courage are worthy of
all admiration.'
I assured her that I would befriend him if I could do
so with any prospect of advantage, but it was little that
one could do against the fury of a Roman mob. I then
asked Piso if he would not accompany me? but he replied
that he had already heard Macer, and was besides
necessarily detained at home by other cares.
As there was no conjecturing in what part of the city
this Christian preacher would harrangue the people, and
neither the princess nor Piso could impart any certain
information, I gave little more thought to it, but as I left
of Sallust, where if I should not see Aurelian, I might
at least pass the earlier hours of the day in an agreeable
retreat. I took the street which leads from the Cœlian
to the Capitol Hill, as affording a pleasanter walk — if
longer. On the way there I observed well the signs
which were given in the manner and conversation of
those whom I met, or walked with, of the events which
were near at hand. There is no better index of what a
despotic ruler and yet at the same time a `people's' despot
will do, than the present will of the people. It was
most apparent to me that the people were impatient for
some quick and vigorous action, no matter how violent,
against the Christians. Language the most cruel and
ferocious met my ear. The moderation and tardiness
of the emperor — of him who had in everything else
been noted for the rapidity of his movements were frequent
subjects of complaint. `It is most strange,' they
said, `that Aurelian should hesitate in this matter, in
truth as if he were afraid to move. Were it not for
Fronto, it is thought that nothing would be done after
all. But this we may feel sure of that if the emperor
once fairly begins the work of extermination, he is not
the man to stop half way. And there is not a friend of
the ancient institutions of religion, but who says that its
very existence depends upon — not the partial obstruction
of this sect — but upon its actual and total extermination.
Who does not know that measures of opposition
and resistance which go but part way, and then stop
through a certain unwillingness as it were to proceed to
extremes, do but increase the evil they aim to suppress.
Weeds that are but mown, come up afterwards but the
then burned.' Such language was heard on all sides,
uttered with utmost violence — of voice and gesture.
I paused among other curious and busy idlers at the
door of a smith's shop, which as I passed slowly by presented
a striking view of a vast and almost boundless
interior blazing with innumerable fires, about which laborers
half naked—and seeming as if fire themselves from
the reflection from their steaming bodies of the red glare
of the furnaces — stood in groups, some drawing forth the
bars of heated metal and holding them, while others
wielding their cyclopean hammers made the anvils and
the vast interior ring with the blows they gave. All
around the outside of the shop and in separate places
within stood the implements and machines of various
kinds which were either made, or were in the process
of being put together. Those whom I joined were just
within the principal entrance looking upon a fabric of
iron consisting of a complicated array of wheels and pulleys,
to which the workmen were just in the act of
adding the last pieces. The master of the place now
approaching and standing with us, while he gave diverse
orders to the men, I said to him,
`What new device may this be? The times labor
with new contrivances by which to assist the laborer in
his art and cause iron to do what the arm has been accustomed
to perform. But after observing this with
care I can make nothing of it.'
The master looked at me with a slighting expression
of countenance as much as to say `you are a wise one!
You must just have emerged from the mountains of
Helvetia, or the forests of the Danube.' But he did not
content himself with looks.
`This, sir?' said he. `This if you would know it, is a
rack — a common instrument of torture — used in all the
prisons of the empire, the use of which is to extract truth
from one who is unwilling to speak except compelled;
or, sometimes when death is thought too slight a punishment,
to give it an edge with, just as salt and pepper
are thrown into a fresh wound. Some crimes you must
know were too softly dealt with, were a sharp axe the
only instrument employed. Cæsar! just bring some
wires of a good thickness and we will try this. Now
shall you see precisely how it would fare with your own
body were you on this iron frame and Varus standing
where I am. There, the body you perceive is confined
in this manner. You observe there can be no escape
and no motion. Now at the word of the judge, this
crank is turned. Do you see the effect upon the wire?
Imagine it your body and you will have a lively idea of
the instrument. Then at another wink or word from
Varus, these are turned and you see that another part of
the body, the legs or arms as it may be, are subjected to
the same force as this wire, which as the fellow keeps
turning you see — strains, and straightens, and strains,
till — crack! — there! — that is what we call a rack. A
most ingenious contrivance and of great use. This is
going up within the hour to the hall of the prefect.'
`It seems,' I remarked, `well contrived indeed for its
object. And what,' I asked, `are these which stand
here? Are they for the same or a similar purpose?'
`Yes — these, sir, are different and yet the same.
They are all for purposes of torture, but they vary infinitely
in the ingenuity with which they severally inflict
pain and death. That is esteemed in Rome the most
torments, shall at the same time not assail that
which is a vital part, but you observe prolong life to
the utmost. Some of an old fashioned structure, with
a clumsy and bungling machinery — here are some sent
to me as useless — long before the truth could be extracted,
or much more pain inflicted than would accompany
beheading, destroyed the life of the victim. Those
which I build — and I build for the state — are not to be
complained of in that way. Varus is curious enough I
can assure you in such things. All these that you see
here, of whatever form or make, are for him and the
hall of justice. They have been all refitted and repaired
— or else they are new.'
`How is it possible,' I asked, `so many could be required
in one place?'
`Surely,' said the master, `you must just have dropt
down in Rome from Britain, or Scythia, or the moon.
Didst ever hear of a people called Galilean or Christian?
Perhaps the name is new to you.'
`No, I have heard it.'
`Well, these are for them. As you seem new in the
city and to our Roman ways, walk a little farther in and
I will show you others, which are for the men and the
boys at such time as the slaughter of this people shall
become general. For you must know, — although it is
not got widely abroad yet — that by and by the whole
city is to be let loose upon them. That is the private
plan of the emperor. Every good citizen, it will be expected,
will do his share in the work till Rome shall be
purged. Aurelian does nothing by halves. It is in
view of such a state of things that I have prepared an
cheap iron tool — I have the more costly also — to meet
the great demand that will be made. Here they are!
commend now my diligence, my patriotism, and my
foresight! Some of my craft will not engage in this
work: but it exactly jumps with my humor. Any that
you shall choose of these, sir, you shall have cheap, and
they shall be sent to your lodgings.'
I expressed my gratitude, but declined the offer.
After wandering a little longer around the huge workshop,
I took my leave of its humane master still entreating
me to purchase, and as I entered again the
street, turned towards the capitol. My limbs were sympathising
with those wires throughout the rest of the day.
I had forgotten Macer, and almost my object in coming
abroad, and was revolving various subjects in my mind,
my body only being conscious of the shocks which now
and then I received from persons meeting me or passing
me, when I became conscious of a sudden rush along
the street in the direction of the capitol, which was now
but a furlong from where I was. I was at once awake.
The people began to run, and I ran with them by instinct.
At length it came into my mind to ask why we
were running? One near me replied,
`O, it's only Macer the Christian, who 'tis said in
spite of the edict, has just made for the steps of the capitol
followed by a large crowd.'
On the instant I outstripped my companion and turning
quickly the corner where the street in which I was
crossed the hill, I there beheld an immense multitude
gathered around the steps of the capitol, and the tall
form of Macer just ascending them. Resolved to be
till I found myself so far advanced that I could both hear
and be heard by him, if I should find occasion to speak,
and see the expression of his countenance. It was to
me as he turned round toward the people the most extraordinary
countenance I ever beheld. It seemed as if
once it had been fiercer than the fiercest beast of the forest,
while through that was now to be discerned the deep
traces of grief, and an expression which seemed to say,
“I and the world have parted company. I dwell above.”
His two lives and his two characters were to be read at
once in the strong and deep-sunk lines of a face that
struck the beholder at once with awe, with admiration,
and compassion.
The crowd was restless and noisy; heaving to and
fro like the fiery mass of a boiling crater. A thousand
exclamations and imprecations filled the air. I thought
it doubtful whether the rage which seemed to fill a great
proportion of those around me would so much as permit
him to open his mouth. It seemed rather as if he would
at once be dragged from where he stood to the Prefect's
tribunal, or hurled from the steps and sacrificed at once
to the fury of the populace. But, as the cries of his
savage enemies multiplied, the voices of another multitude
were lifted up in his behalf, which were so numerous
and loud that they had the effect of putting a restraint
upon the others. It was evident that Macer could
not be assailed without leading to a general combat.
All this while Macer stood unmoved and calm as the
columns of the capitol itself — waiting till the debate
should be ended and the question decided — a question
of life or death to him. Upon the column immediately
with all the art of the chirographer, the edict of Anrelian.
It was upon parchment within a brazen frame.
Soon as quiet was restored, so that any single voice
could be heard, one who was at the foot of the steps and
near the preacher cried out to him,
`Well, old fellow, begin! thy time is short.'
`Young man,' he replied, `I was once old in sin, for
which God forgive me! — now I am old in the love of
Christ, for which God be thanked! — but in years I am
but forty. As for time! — I think only of eternity.'
`Make haste, Macer,' cried another voice from the
crowd. `Varus will soon be here.'
`I believe you,' replied the soldier; `but I am ready
for him. I love life no longer than I can enjoy free
speech. If I may not now and here speak out every
thought of my heart and the whole truth in Christ, then
would I rather die; and whether I die in my own bed
or upon the iron couch of Varus matters little. Romans!'
turning now and addressing the crowd, `the Emperor
in his edict tells me not to preach to you. Not to
preach Christ in Rome, neither within a church nor in
the streets. Shall I obey him? When Christ says,
`go forth and preach the gospel to every creature,' shall
I give ear to a Roman emperor who bids me hold my
peace? Not so, not so, Romans. I love God too well,
and Christ too well, and you too well, to heed such bidding.
I love Aurelian too, I have served long under
him, and he was ever good to me. He was a good as
well as great general, and I loved him. I love him now,
but not so well as these; not so well as you. And if I
obeyed this edict, it would show that I loved him better
If I obeyed this edict I should never speak to you again
of this new religion, as you call it. I should leave you
all to perish in your sins without any of that knowledge,
or faith, or hope in Christ which would save you from
them, and form you after the image of God, and after
death carry you up to dwell with him and with just men
forever and ever. I should then, indeed, show that I
hated you, which I can never do. I love you and Rome
I cannot tell how much — as much as a child ever loved
a mother or children one another. And therefore it is
that no power on earth — nor above it nor under it —
save that of God, shall hinder me from declaring to you
the doctrine which I think you need, nay, without which
your souls will perish and dwell forever and ever not
with God, but in fires eternal of the lowest hell. For
what can your gods do for you? what are they doing?
They lift you not up to themselves — they push you
down rather to those fires. Christ, O Romans, if you
will receive him, will save you from them, and from
those raging fires of sorrow and remorse which here on
earth do constitute a hell hot as any that burns below.
It is your sins which kindle those fires, and with which
Christ wages war — not with you. It is your sins
against which I wage war here in the streets of Rome.
Only repent of your sins, Romans, and believe in Christ
the son of God, and, O how glorious and happy were
then this great and glorious city. I have told you before,
and I tell you now, your vices are undermining the
foundations of this great empire. There is no power to
cure these but in Jesus Christ. And when I know this,
shall I cease to preach Christ to you because a man, a
for a friend or a child the medicine that would save
his life though you were charged by another never so imperiously
to forbear? The gospel is the divine medicament
that is to heal all your sicknesses, cure all your
diseases, remove all your miseries, cleanse all your pollutions,
correct all your errors, confirm within you all
necessary truth. And when it is this healing draught
for which your souls cry aloud, for which they thirst
even unto death, shall I, the messenger of God, sent in
the name of his Son to bear to your lips the cup of which
if you once drink you shall live forever, withhold from
you that cup, or dash it to the ground? Shall I, a mediator
between God and man falter in my speech, and
my tongue hang palsied in my mouth, because Aurelian
speaks? What to me, O Romans, is the edict of a Roman
Emperor? Down, down, accursed scrawl! nor insult
longer both God and man.'
And saying that he reached forth his hand, and seizing
the parchment wrenched it from its brazen frame
and rending it to shreds strewed them abroad upon
the air.
It was done in the twinkling of an eye. At first, horror-struck
at the audacity of the deed, and while it was
in the act of performing, the crowd stood still and mute
bereft as it were of all power to move or speak. But
soon as the fragments of the parchment came floating
along upon the air, their senses returned, and the most
violent outcries, curses and savage yells rose from the
assembled multitude, and at the same moment a movement
was made to rush upon him with the evident purpose
to sacrifice him on the spot to the offended majesty
easily be accomplished, and that whatever I might attempt
to do in his defence would be no more than a
straw thrown in the face of a whirlwind. But here a
new wonder revealed itself. For no sooner was it evident,
from the rage and tumultuous tossings of the crowd
and their ferocious cries, that the last moments of Macer
had arrived, than it was apparent that all in the immediate
neighborhood of the building on whose steps he
stood were either Christians, or Romans who like myself
were well disposed towards that people, and would
promptly join them in their defence of Macer. These,
and they amounted to a large and dense mass, at once
as those cries arose sent forth others as shouts of defiance,
and facing outwards made it known that none
could assail Macer but by first assailing them. I could
not doubt that it was a preconcerted act by which the
Christian was thus surrounded by his friends — not as I
afterward found with his knowledge, but done at their
own suggestion — so that if difficulty should arise, they
by a show of sufficient power might rescue Macer, whom
all esteemed in spite of his errors, and also serve by
their presence to deter him from any act or the use of
any language that should give needless offence to either
the Prefect or his friends. Their benevolent design was
in part frustrated by the sudden and as it seemed unpremeditated
movement of Macer in tearing down the
edict. But they still served as a protection against the
immediate assaults of the excited and enraged mob.
But their services were soon ended, by the interference
of a power with which it was vain to contend. For
when the populace had given over for a moment their
the person of Macer, he again, having never moved from
the spot where he had stood, stretched out his long arm
as if he would continue what he had scarcely as yet
begun, and to my surprise the people, notwithstanding
what had occurred, seemed not indisposed to hear him.
But just at that moment — just as a deep silence had at
length succeeded the late uproar — the distant sound in
the direction of the Prefect's, of a troop of horse in rapid
movement over the pavements caught the ears of the
people. No one doubted for a moment what it signified.
`Your hour is come, Macer,' cried a voice from the
crowd.
`It can never come too soon,' answered the preacher,
`in the service of God. But remember, Roman citizens,
what I have told you, that it is for you and for Rome,
that I incur the wrath of the wicked Varus, and may so
soon at his hands meet the death of a Christian witness.'
As Macer spoke, the Roman guard swept rapidly
round a corner, and the multitude giving way in every
direction left him alone upon the spot where he had been
standing. Regardless of life and limb the horse dashed
through the flying crowds, throwing down many and
trampling them under foot, till they reached the Christian,
who undismayed and fearless maintained his post.
There was little ceremony in their treatment of him.
He was seized by a band of the soldiers, his hands
strongly bound behind him, and placed upon a horse —
when wheeling round again the troop at full speed vanished
down the same avenue by which they had come,
bearing their victim as we doubted not to the tribunal of
Varus.
Determined to see all I could, and the last if it must
be so, of this undaunted spirit, I hastened at my utmost
speed in the wake of the flying troop. Little as I had
heard or seen of this strange man, I had become as
deeply concerned in his fate as any could have been who
had known him more intimately, or believed both in
him and with him. I know not what it was, unless it
were the signatures of sincerity, of child-like sincerity
and truth, stamped upon him that so drew me toward
him; together with that expression of profound sadness,
or rather of inward grief, which, wherever we see it and
in whomsoever, excites our curiosity and engages our
sympathy. He was to me a man who deserved a better
fate than I feared he would meet. He seemed like one
who, under fortunate circumstances, might have been of
the number of those great spirits whose iron will and
gigantic force of character bear down before them all opposition
and yoke nations to their car. Of fear he evidently
had no comprehension whatever. The rustling
of the autumn breeze in his gown alarmed him as much,
as did the clang of those horses' hoofs upon the pavements,
though he so well knew it was the precursor of
suffering and death.
With all the speed I could use I hurried to the hall of
the Prefect. The crowds were pouring in as I reached
it, among whom I also rushed along and up the flights
of steps, anxious only to obtain an entrance and a post
of observation whence I could see and hear what should
take place. Varus was not yet in his seat: but before
it at some little distance stood Macer, his hands still
bound and a soldier of the palace on either side.
I waited not long before Varus appeared at the tribunal
priest of the Temple of the Sun. Now, poor Christian!
I thought within myself, if it go not hard with thee it
will not be for want of those who wish thee ill. The
very Satan of thy own faith was never worse than these.
Fronto's cruel eyes were fixed upon him just as a hungry
tiger's are upon the unconscious victim upon whom
he is about to spring. Varus seemed as if he sat in his
place to witness some holiday sport, drawing his box of
perfume between his fingers, or daintily adjusting the
folds of his gown. When a few preliminary formalities
were gone through, Varus said, addressing one of the
officials of the place,
`Whom have we here?'
`Noble Prefect, Macer the Christian?'
`And why stands he at my tribunal?' continued Varus.
`For a breach of the late edict of the Emperor, by
which the Christians were forbidden to preach either
within their temples or abroad in the streets and squares.'
`Is that all?' asked the Prefect.
`Not only,' it was replied, `hath he preached abroad
in the streets, but he hath cast signal contempt upon
both the Emperor and the empire, in that he hath but
now torn down from its brazen frame the edict which he
had first violated, and scattered it in fragments upon the
streets.'
`If these are so, doubtless he hath well earned his
death. How is this, Galilean? dost thou confess these
crimes, or shall I call in other witnesses of thy guilt?'
`First,' replied Macer, `will it please the Prefect to
have these bonds removed? For the sake of old fellowship
to speak, my hands may be free also. Else am I not a
whole man.'
`Unbind them,' said the Prefect; `let him have his
humor. Yet shall we fit on other bracelets anon that
may not sit so easy.'
`Be that as it may,' answered the Christian; `in the
meanwhile I would stand thus. I thank thee for the
grace.'
`Now, Christian, once more if thou art ready. Is it
the truth that hath been witnessed?'
`It is the truth,' replied Macer; `and I thank God
that it is so.'
`But knowest thou, Christian, that in saying that thou
hast condemned thyself to instant death? Was not
death the expressed penalty for violation of that law?'
`Truly it was,' answered Macer; `and what is death
to me?'
`I suppose death to be death,' replied Varus.
`Therein thou showest thyself to be in the same darkness
as all the rest of this idolatrous city. Death to the
Christian, Prefect, is life! Crush me by thy engines,
and in the twinkling of an eye is my soul dwelling with
God, and looking down with compassion upon thy stony
heart.'
`Verily, Fronto,' said Varus, `these Christians are an
ingenious people. What a wonderful fancy is this!
But, Christian,' turning to Macer, `it were a pity surely
for thee to die. Thou hast a family as I learn. Would
not thy life be more to them than thy death?'
`Less,' said the Christian, `a thousand fold! Were
it not a better vision to them of me crowned with a victor's
in this new Sodom, and drinking in its pestilential air?
The sight of me there would be to them a spring of
comfort and a source of strength which here I can
never be.'
`But,' added the Prefect, `it is but right that thou
shouldst for the present, if it may be, live here and take
care of thy family. They will want thee.'
`God,' replied Macer, `who feeds the birds of the air
and through all their wanderings over the earth from
clime to clime still brings them back to the accustomed
home, will watch over those whom I love, and bring
them home. Such, Prefect, are the mercies of Rome toward
us who belong to Christ, that they will not be left
long to bewail my loss.'
`Do thy family then hold with thee?' said Varus.
`Blessed be God they do.'
`That is a pity —' responded the Prefect.
`Say not so, Varus; 'tis a joy and a triumph to me in
this hour, and to them, that they are Christ's.'
`Still,' rejoined the Prefect, `I would willingly save
thee, and make thee live: and there is one way in which
it may be done, and thou mayest return in joy to thy
family.'
`Let me then know it,' said Macer.
`Renounce Christ, Macer, and sacrifice; and thy life
is thine, and honor too.'
Macer's form seemed to dilate to more than its common
size, his countenance seemed bursting with expression
as he said,
`Renounce Christ? save my life by renouncing
Christ? How little, Varus, dost thou know what a
or on the throne of a new universe, would I
deny my Saviour. To Christ, Varus, do I owe it that
I am not now what I was, when I dwelt in the caves of
the Flavian. To Christ do I owe it that I am not now
what I was when in the ranks of Aurelian. To Christ
do I owe it that my soul, once steeped in sin as thy robe
in purple die, is now by him cleansed and as I trust
thoroughly purged. To Christ do I owe it that once
worshipping the dumb idols of Roman superstition I now
bow down to the only living and invisible God —'
`Away with him to the tormentors!' came from an hundred
voices — `to Christ do I owe it, O Prefect, that my
heart is not now as thine or his who sits beside thee, or
as that of these, hungering and thirsting — never, after
righteousness — but for the blood of the innocent. Shall
I then renounce Christ? and then worship that ancient
adulterer, Jupiter greatest and best? —' The hall here
rang with the ferocious cries of those who shouted —
`Give him over to us!' — `To the rack with him!' —
`Tear out the tongue of the blaspheming Galilean!'
`Romans,' cried Varus, rising from his chair, `let not
your zeal for the gods cause you to violate the sanctity
of this room of Justice. Fear not but Varus, who as
you well know is a lover of the gods, his country, and
the city, will well defend their rights and honors against
whoever shall assail them.'
He then turned to Macer and said,
`I should ill perform my duty to thee, Christian, did I
spare any effort to bring thee to a better mind — ill should
I perform it for Rome did I not use all the means by the
state entrusted to me to save her citizens from errors
height, would soon overshadow and by their poisonous
neighborhood kill that faith venerable through a thousand
years, and of all we now inherit from our ancestors
of greatest and best, the fruitful and divine spring.'
`There, Romans! spoke a Roman,' exclaimed Fronto.
As Varus ended — at a sign and a word from him,
what seemed the solid wall of the room in which we
were suddenly flew up upon its screaming pulleys,
and revealed another apartment black as night, save here
and there where a dull torch shed just light enough to
show its great extent, and set in horrid array before us,
engines of every kind for tormenting criminals, each attended
by its half-naked minister ready at a moment's
warning to bind the victim and put in motion the infernal
machinery. At this sight a sudden faintness overspread
my limbs, and I would willingly have rushed
from the hall — but it was then made impossible. And
immediately the voice of the Prefect was again heard:
`Again, Christian, with Rome's usual mercy, I freely
offer to thee thy life, simply on the condition, easily fulfilled
by thee, for it asks but one little word from thy
lips, that thou do, for thy own sake and for the sake of
Rome which thou sayest thou lovest, renounce Christ
and thy faith.'
`I have answered thee once, O Prefect; dost thou
think so meanly of me as to suppose that what but now
I affirmed I will now deny, and only for this show of
iron toys and human demons set to play them? It is not
of such stuff Aurelian's men are made of, much less the
soldiers of the cross. For the love I bear to Rome and
Christ, and even thee, Varus, I choose to die.'
`Be assured, Christian, I will not spare thee.'
`I ask it not, Prefect; do thy worst — and the worst is
but death, which is life.'
`Pangs that shall keep thee hours dying,' cried the
Prefect — `thy body racked and rent — torn piecemeal
one part from another — this is worse than death. Bethink
thee well. Do not believe that Varus will relent.'
`That were the last thing to find faith with one who
knows him as well as Macer does,' replied the Christian.
A flush of passion passed over the face of Varus.
But he proceeded in the same even tone.
`Is thy election made, Macer?'
`It is made.'
`Slaves,' cried the Prefect, `away with him to the
rack, and ply it well.'
`Yes,' repeated Fronto, springing with eager haste
from his seat, that he might lose nothing of what was to
be seen or heard, `away with him to the rack, and ply
it well.'
Unmoved and unresisting, his face neither pale nor
his limbs trembling, did Macer surrender himself into
the hands of those horrid ministers of a cruel and bloody
superstition, who then hastily approached him, and seizing
him dragged him toward their worse than hell. Accomplished
in their art, for every day is it put to use,
Macer was in a moment thrown down and lashed to the
iron bars; when each demon having completed the preparation
stood leaning upon his wheel for a last sign from
the Prefect. It was instantly given, and while the breath
even of every being in the vast hall was suspended,
through an intense interest in the scene, the creaking of
the engine as it began to turn sounded upon the brain
the sufferer. The engine turned till it seemed as if any
body or substance laid upon it must have been wrenched
asunder. Then it stopped. And the minutes counted
to me like hours or ages ere the word was given and
the wheels unrestrained flew back again to their places.
Macer was then unbound. He at first lay where he was
thrown upon the pavement. But his life was yet strong
within his iron frame. He rose upon his feet, and was
again led to the presence of his judges. His eye had
lost nothing of its wild fire, nor his air anything of its
lofty independence.
Varus again addressed him.
`Christian, you have felt what there is in Roman justice.
Reject not again what Roman mercy again offers
thee — life freely, and honor too, if thou wilt return
once more to the bosom of the fond mother who reared
thee.'
`Yes,' said Fronto `thy mother who reared thee!
Die not with the double guilt of apostacy and ingratitude
upon thy soul.'
`Varus,' said Macer, `art thou a fool, a very fool, to
deem that thy word can weigh more with me than
Christ? Make not thyself a laughingstock to me and
such Christians as may be here. The torments of thy
importunity are worse to me than those of thy engines.'
`I wish thee well, Macer; 'tis that which makes me
thus a fool.'
`So, Varus, does Satan wish his victim well, to
whom he offers his luscious baits. But what is it when
the bait is swallowed, and hell is all that has been
gained? What should I gain, but to live with thee, O
fool!'
`Think, Macer, of thy wife and children.'
At those names, Macer bent his head and folded his
hands upon his breast, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
Till then there had, as it seemed, been a blessed forgetfulness
of all but himself and the scene before him. Varus,
misinterpreting this his silence, and taking it for the first
sign of repentance, hastily cried out,
`There is the altar, Macer. — Slave! hold to him the
sacred libation; he will now pour it out.'
Instantly a slave held out to him a silver ladle filled
with wine.
Macer at the same instant struck it with his long arm
and sent it whirling to the ceiling.
`Bind him again to the rack,' cried the Prefect, leaping
from his seat; `and let him have it till the nerves
break.'
Macer was again seized and stretched upon the iron
frame — this time upon another, of different construction
and greater power. Again the infernal machine was
worked by the ministering servants, and as it was
wound up, inflicting all that it was capable of doing
without absolutely destroying life, groans and screams
of fierce agony broke from the suffering Christian. How
long our ears were assailed by those terrific cries, I
cannot say. They presently died away, as I doubted
not, only because Macer himself had expired under the
torment. When they had wholly ceased, the engine
was reversed and Macer again unbound. He fell lifeless
upon the floor. Varus, who had sat the while conversing
with Fronto, now said,
`Revive him, and return him hither.'
Water was then thrown upon him, and powerful
little while their intended effect, and Macer gave signs
of returning life. He presently gazed wildly round
him, and came gradually to a consciousness of where
and what he was. His limbs almost refused their office,
and he was supported and partly lifted to the presence
of Varus.
`Now, Galilean,' cried Varus, `how is it with thee?'
`Better than with thee, I trust in God.'
`Wilt thou now sacrifice?'
`I am myself, O Varus, this moment a sacrifice, well
pleasing and acceptable to the God whom I worship and
the Master whom I serve.'
`Why, Varus,' said Fronto, `do we bear longer his
insults and impieties? Let me strike him dead.' And
he moved his hand as if to grasp a concealed weapon
with which to do it.
`Nay, nay, hold, Fronto! let naught be done in haste
or passion, but all calmly and in order. We act for those
who are present as well as for ourselves.'
A voice from a dark extremity of the room shouted
out,
`It is Macer, O Prefect, who acts for us.'
The face of Macer brightened up, as if he had suddenly
been encompassed by a legion of friends. It was
the first token he had received, that so much as one
heart in the whole assembly was beating with his. He
looked instantly to the quarter whence the voice came,
and then, turning to the Prefect, said,
`Yes, Varus, I am now and here preaching to the
people of Rome, though I speak never a word. 'T is a
sermon that will fall deeper into the heart than ten
thousand spoken ones.'
The Prefect commanded that he who had spoken
should be brought before him. But upon the most diligent
search he could not be found.
`Christian,' said Varus, `I have other pains in store,
to which what thou hast as yet suffered is but as the
scratching of the lion's paw. It were better not to suffer
them. They will leave no life in thee. Curse Christ —
't is but a word — and live.'
Macer bent his piercing eye upon the Prefect, but answered
not.
`Curse Christ, and live.'
Macer was still silent.
`Bring in then,' cried the Prefect, `your pincers,
rakes and shells; and we will see what they may have
virtue to bring forth.'
The black messengers of death hastened at the word
from their dark recesses, loaded with those new instruments
of torture, and stood round the miserable man.
`Now, Macer,' said Varus once more, `acknowledge
Jupiter Greatest and Best, and thou shalt live.'
Macer turned round to the people, and with his utmost
voice cried out,
`There is, O Romans, but one God; and the God of
Christ is he —'
No sooner had he uttered those words than Fronto
exclaimed,
`Ah! hah! I have found thee then! This is the
voice, thrice accursed! that came from the sacred Temple
of the Sun! This, Romans, is the god whose thunder
turned you pale!'
`Had it been my voice alone, priest, that was heard
that day, I had been accursed indeed. I was but the
It was the voice of God, not of me.'
`These,' said Fronto, `are the Christian devices, by
which they would lead blindfold into their snares you,
Romans, and your children. May Christ ever employ
in Rome a messenger cunning and skillful as this prating
god, and Hellenism will have naught to fear.'
`And,' cried Macer, `let your priests be but like
Fronto, and the eyes of the blindest driveler of you all
will be unsealed. Ask Fronto into whose bag went the
bull's heart, that on the day of dedication could not be
found —'
`Thou liest, Nazarene —'
`Ply him with your pincers,' cried Varus, — and the
cruel irons were plunged into his flesh. Yet he shrunk
not — nor groaned; but his voice was again heard in
the midst of the torture,
`Ask him from whose robe came the old and withered
heart, the sight of which so unmanned Aurelian —'
`Dash in his mouth,' shrieked Fronto, `and stop those
lies blacker than hell.'
But Macer went on, while the irons tore him in every
part.
`Ask him too for the instructions and the bribes given
to the haruspices, and to those who led the beasts up to
the altar. Though I die, Romans, I have left the proof
of all this in good hands. I stood the while, where I
saw it all.'
`Thou liest, slave,' cried the furious priest; and at the
same moment springing forward and seizing an instrument
from the hands of one of the tormentors, he struck
it into the shoulder of Macer, and the lacerated arm fell
the inflicted agony.
`Away with him!' cried Varus, `away with him to
the rack, and tear him joint from joint!'
At the word he was borne bleeding away, but not insensible
nor speechless. All along as he went his voice
was heard calling upon God and Christ, and exhorting
the people to abjure their idolatries.
He was soon stretched again upon the rack, which
now quickly finished its work; and the Christian Macer,
after sufferings which I knew not before that the human
frame could so long endure and live, died a martyr
to the faith he had espoused; the last words which were
heard throughout the hall being these;
`Jesus, I die for thee and my death is sweet!'
When it was announced to the Prefect that Macer
was dead, he exclaimed,
`Take the carcass of the Christian dog and throw it
upon the square of the Jews: there let the dogs devour
it.'
Saying which, he rose from his seat, and, accompanied
by Fronto, left by the same way he had before entered
the hall of judgment.
Soon as he had withdrawn from the apartment, the
base rabble that had filled it and had glutted their savage
souls upon the horrors of that scene, cried out tumultuously
for the body of the Christian, which when
it was gladly delivered to them by those who had already
had enough of it, they thrust hooks into, and rushed
out dragging it toward the place ordained for it by the
Prefect. As they came forth into the streets the mob increased
to an immense multitude of those who seemed
proceeded far, filling the air with their cries and uttering
maledictions of every form against the unhappy Christians,
before a new horror was proclaimed by that blood-thirsty
crew. For one of them, suddenly springing up
upon the base of one of the public statues whence he
could be heard by the greater part, cried out,
`To the house of Macer! To the house of Macer!'
`Aye, aye,' shouted another, `to the house of Macer,
in the ruins behind the shop of Demetrius!'
`To the house of Macer!' arose then in one deafening
shout from the whole throng; and filled with this
new frenzy, maddened like wild beasts at the prospect of
fresh blood, they abandoned there where they had
dragged it the body of Macer, and put new speed into
their feet in their haste to arrive at the place of the expected
sport. I knew not then where the ruins were, or
it was possible that I might have got in advance of the
mob, and given timely warning to the devoted family.
Neither did I know any to whom to apply to discharge
such a duty. My helplessness and weakness sat upon
me like a nightmare. And while I inwardly mourned
at this, I suffered myself to be borne along with the rushing
crowd. Their merciless threats, their savage language,
better becoming barbarians than a people like this
living in the very centre of civilization, filled me with
an undefinable terror. It seemed to me that within reach
of such a populace, no people were secure of property or
life.
`The Christians,' said one, `have had their day and it
has been a long one, too long for Rome. Let its night
now come.'
`Yes,' said another, `we will all have a hand in
bringing it on. Let every Roman do his share, and they
may be easily rooted out.'
`I understand,' said another, `that it is agreed upon,
that whatever the people attempt after their own manner,
as in what we are now about, they are not to be interfered
with. We are to have free pasturage.'
`Who could suppose,' said the first, `it should be different?
It is well known that formerly, though there
has been no edict to the purpose, the people have not
only been permitted, they have been expected, to do
their part of the business without being asked or urged.
I dare say if we can do up this family of — who is it?
`Macer, the Christian Macer.'
`We shall receive the thanks of Aurelian, though
they be not spoken, as heartily as Varus. That was a
tough old fellow though. They say he has served
many years under the Emperor, and when he left the
army was in a fair way to rise to the highest rank.
Curses upon those who made a Christian of him! It
is they, not Varus, who have put him on the rack.
But see! are not those the ruins we seek? I hope so,
for I have run far enough.'
`Yes,' replied his companion; `those are the old
baths! Now for it!'
The crowd thereupon abandoning the streets, poured
itself like an advancing flood among the ruins, filling
all the spaces and mounting up upon all the still standing
fragments of walls and columns. It was not at all
evident where the house of the Christian was. It all
seemed a confusion of ruins and of dead wall.
`Who can show us,' cried out one who took upon
is?'
`I can,' responded the slender voice of a little boy;
`for I have often been there before they became Christians.'
`Show us then, my young urchin; come up hither.
Now, lead the way, and we will follow.'
`You need go no further,' replied the boy; `that
is it.'
`That? It is but a stone wall!'
`Still it is the house,' replied the child; `but the door
is of stone as well as the walls.'
At that the crowd began to beat upon the walls, and
shout to those who were within to come forth. They
had almost wearied themselves out, and were inclined
to believe that the boy had given them a false direction,
when, upon a sort of level roof above the projecting
mass which served as the dwelling, a female form suddenly
appeared, and, advancing to the edge — not far
above yet beyond the reach of the mob below — she
beckoned to them with her hand, as if she would speak
to them.
The crowd, soon as their eyes caught this new object,
ceased from their tumultuous cries and prepared to hear
what she who approached them thus might have to say.
Some indeed immediately began to hurl missiles, but
they were at once checked by others, who insisted
that she should have liberty to speak. And these
wretches would have been more savage still than I believed
them, if the fair girl who stood there pleading to
them had not found some favor. Hers was a bright and
sparkling countenance, that at once interested the beholder.
while she stood waiting the pleasure of the heaving
multitude before her.
`Ah! hah!' cried one; `who is she, but the dancing
girl ælia! she is a dainty bit for us. Who would
have thought that she was the daughter of a Christian!'
`I am sorry for her,' cried another; `she is too pretty
to be torn in pieces. We must save her.'
`Say on! say on!' now cried one of the leaders of
the crowd as silence succeeded; `we will hear you.'
`Whom do you seek for?' then asked ælia, addressing
him who had spoken.
`You know well enough, my pretty girl,' replied the
other. `We seek the house and family of Macer the
Christian. Is this it? and are you of his household?'
`This,' she replied, `is the house of Macer, and I am
his daughter. My mother with all her children are below.
And now why do you seek us thus?'
`We seek,' replied the savage, `not only you but your
lives. All you have to do is to unbar this door and let
us in.'
Though ælia could have supposed that they were
come for nothing else, yet the brutal announcement of
the terrible truth drove the color from her cheeks, and
caused her limbs to tremble. Yet did it not abate her
courage, nor take its energy from her mind.
`Good citizens and friends,' said she, `for I am sure I
must have some friends among you, why should you do
us such wrong? We are poor and humble people, and
have never had the power, if the will had been ours, to
injure you. Leave us in safety, and if you require it
we will abandon our dwelling and even our native
Rome — for we are all native Romans.'
`That, my young mistress, will not serve our turn.
Are you not, as you said, the family of the Christian
Macer?'
`Yes, we are.'
`Well,' answered the hard-hearted wretch, `that is the
reason we seek after you and mean to have you.'
`But,' replied the girl, `there must be many among
you who would not willingly harm either Macer or anything
that is his. Macer is not only a Christian, Romans,
but he is a good warm-hearted patriot as ever
was born within the compass of these walls. Brutus
himself never loved freedom nor hated tyrants more
than he.'
`That's little to the purpose now-a-days,' cried one
from the crowd.
`There is not a single possession he has,' continued
ælia, `save only his faith as a Christian, which he
would not surrender for the love he bears to Rome and to
everything that is Roman. Ever since he was strong
enough to draw and wield a sword, has he been fighting
for you the battles of our country. If you have
seen him, you have seen how cruelly the weapons of
the enemy have hacked him. On every limb are there
scars of wounds received in battle; and twice, once in
Gaul and once in Asia, has he been left for dead upon
the field. It was he who in Syria, when the battle
raged at its highest, and Carinus was suddenly beset by
more than he could cope with, and had else fallen into
their hands a prisoner, or been quickly despatched, that
Macer came up and by his single arm saved his general
—'
`A great pity that,' cried many from the crowd.
`Macer,' continued ælia, `only thought that Carinus
then represented Rome, and that his life, whatever it
was and however worthless in itself, was needful for
Rome, and he threw himself into the breach even as he
would have done for Aurelian or Probus. Was not his
virtue the greater for that? Was he to feed his own
humor, and leave Carinus to perish, when his country
by that might receive detriment? Macer has never
thought of himself. Had he been ambitious as some,
he had now been where Mucapor is. But when in the
army he always put by his own interests. The army,
its generals and Rome were all in all with him. Himself
nothing. How, citizens, can you wish to do him
harm? or anything that is his? And even as a Christian
— for which you reproach him and now seek him
— it is still the same. Believe me when I say, that it is
because of his love of you and Rome that he would
make you all as he is. He honestly thinks that it is
the doctrine of Christ, which can alone save Rome from
the destruction which her sins are drawing down upon
her. He has toiled from morning to night, all day and
all night — harder than he ever did upon his marches
either in Africa or in Asia — that you might be made
to know what this religion of Christ is; what it means;
what it will bestow upon you if you will receive it; and
what it will save you from. And he would not scruple
to lose his life, if by so doing he could give any greater
efficacy to the truth in which he believes. I would he
were here now, Romans, to plead his own cause with
with you. I know you would so esteem his honesty,
and his warm Roman heart, that you would be more
ready to serve than to injure him.'
Pity stood in some eyes, but impatience and anger in
more.
`Be not so sure of that,' cried he who had spoken before.
`No true Roman can love a Christian. Christians
are the worst enemies of the state. As for Macer,
say no more of him; he is already done for. All
you have to do is to set open the door.'
`What say you of Macer?' cried the miserable girl,
wringing her hands. `Has any evil befallen him?'
`What he will never recover from,' retorted the barbarian.
`Varus has just had him on one of his iron
playthings, and his body we have but now left in the
street yonder. So hasten.'
`O worse than demons to kill so good a man,' cried
ælia, the tears rolling down her cheeks. `But if he is
dead, come and take us too. We wish not now to live;
and ready as he was to die for Christ, so ready are we
also. Cease your blows; and I will open the door.'
But her agency in that office was no longer needed.
A huge timber had been brought in the meantime from
the ruins, and plied by an hundred hands with noisy
uproar, the stone door soon gave way, just as ælia descended
and the murderous crew rushed in.
The work of death was in part quickly done. The
sons of Macer, who, on the uproar, had instantly joined
their mother in spite of all the entreaties of Demetrius,
were at once despatched, and dragged forth by ropes attached
to their feet. The two youngest, transfixed by
spears, were seen borne aloft as bloody standards of that
murderous rout. The mother and the other children,
placed in a group in the midst of the multitude, were
made to march on, the savages themselves being divided
the Tiber!' — some, `Crucify them beyond the walls!'
— others, `Give 'em the pavements!' But the voice of
one more ingenious in cruelty than the rest prevailed.
`To the square by Hanno's with them!'
This proposition filled them with delight.
`To Hanno's! to Hanno's!' resounded on all sides.
And away rushed the infuriated mass to their evil
sport.
`And who is Hanno?' I asked of one near me.
`Hanno? know you not Hanno? He is brother of
Sosia the gladiator, and breeds dogs for the theatres.
You shall soon see what a brood he will turn out.
There is no such breeder in Rome as he.'
Sick at heart as I was, I still pressed on, resolved to
know all that Christian heroism could teach me. We
were soon at the square, capable of holding on its borders
not only thousands but tens of thousands, to which
number it seemed as if the throng had now accumulated.
Hanno's extensive buildings and grounds were
upon one side of the square, to which the people now
rushed, calling out for the great breeder to come forth
with his pack.
He was not slow in obeying the summons. He himself
appeared, accompanied, as on the day when Piso saw him
on the Capitol Hill, by his two dogs Nero and Sylla. After
first stipulating with the ringleaders for a sufficient remuneration,
he proceeded to order the game. He was
at first for separating the victims, but they implored to be
permitted to suffer together, and so much mercy was
shown them. They were then set together in the centre
of the square, while the multitude disposed themselves
and the roofs of all the neighboring dwellings being also
thronged with those who both looked on and applauded.
Before the hounds were let loose, Hanno approached this
little band, standing there in the midst and clinging to
one another, and asked them,
`If they had anything to say, or any message to deliver,
for he would faithfully perform what they might
enjoin.'
The rest weeping, ælia answered, `that she wished
to say a few words to the people who stood around.'
`Speak then,' replied Hanno, `and you shall not be
disturbed.'
She then turned toward the people, and said, `I can
wish you Romans, before I die, no greater good than
that, like me and those who are with me, you may one
day become Christians. For you will then be incapable
of inflicting such sufferings and wrongs upon any human
being. The religion of Jesus will not suffer you
to do otherwise than love each other as you do yourselves;
that is the great Christian rule. Be assured
that we now die, as Christians, in full faith in Christ
and in joyful hope of living with him, so soon as these
mortal bodies shall have perished; and that though a
single word of denial would save us, we would not speak
it. Ye have cruelly slaughtered the good Macer; do
so now by us, if such is your will, and we shall then be
with him where he is.'
With these words she again turned, and throwing her
arms around her mother and younger sisters awaited the
onset of the furious dogs, whose yellings and strugglings
a moment, when the bloodhounds, fiercer than the fiercest
beasts of the forest, flew from their leashes, and in less
time than would be believed naught but a heap of bones
marked where the Christian family had stood.
The crowds, then fully sated as it seemed with the
rare sport of the morning, dispersed, each having something
to say to another of the firmness and patriotism of
Varus and Fronto, — and of the training and behavior
of the dogs.
From the earliest period of reflection have I detested
the Roman character; and all that I have witnessed
with my own eyes has served but to confirm those early
impressions. They are a people wholly destitute of humanity.
They are the lineal descendants of robbers,
murderers, and warriors — who are but murderers under
another name — and they show their parentage in every
line of their hard-featured visages, and still more in all
the qualities of the soul. They are stern, — unyielding,
unforgiving — cruel. A Roman heart dissected would
be found all stone. Any present purpose of passion, or
ambition, or party zeal, will extinguish in the Roman all
that separates him from the brute. Bear witness to the
truth of this, ye massacres of Marius and Sylla! and
others, more than can be named, both before and since —
when the blood of neighbors, friends, and fellow-citizens,
was poured out as freely as if it had been the filthy
stream that gurgles through the public sewers! And, in
good sooth, was it not as filthy? For those very ones so
slain, had the turn of the wheel set them uppermost,
would have done the same deed upon the others. Happy
is it for the peace of the earth and the great cause of humanity,
false, is at length bearing sway, and doing somewhat to
soften, what more than twelve centuries have passed
over and left in its original hardness.
When, like the rest of that Roman mob, I had been
filled with the sights and sounds of the morning, I turned
and sought the palace of Piso.
Arriving there I found Portia, Julia and Piso sitting
together at the hour of dinner. I sat with them. Piso
had not left the palace since I had parted from him.
They had remained at peace within, and as ignorant of
what had happened in Rome as we all were of what was
doing in another planet. When, as the meal drew to a
close I had related to them the occurrences of which I
had just been the witness, they could scarce believe what
they heard, though it was but what they and all had every
reason to look for from the language which Aurelian
had used, and the known hostility of the Perfect. Portia,
the mother, was moved more, if it could be so, than
even Piso or Julia. When I had ended she said,
`Think not, Nichomachus, that although, as thou
knowest, I am of Aurelian's side in religion, I defend
these inhuman wrongs. To inflict them can make
no part of the duty of any worshiper of the gods, however
zealous he may be. I do not believe that the gods
are propitiated by any acts which occasion suffering to
their creatures. I have seen no justification under any
circumstances of human sacrifices — much less can I see
any of sacrifices like those you have this morning witnessed.
Aurelian, in authorizing or conniving at such
horrors, has cut himself loose from the honor and the affections
of all those in Rome whose esteem is worth possessing.
and to the vulgar rabble over whom it exercises a sway
more strict than an Eastern despot. He has by these
acts turned the current of the best Roman sympathy
toward the Christians, and put off by a long remove the
hour when he might hope to see the ancient religion of
the state delivered from its formidable rival.'
`It is the purpose of Aurelian,' I said, `not so much
to persecute and annoy the Christians, as to exterminate
them. He is persuaded that by using the same extreme
and summary measures with the Christians, which he has
been accustomed to employ in the army, he can root out
this huge evil from the state, as easily as those lesser ones
from the camp; — without reflecting that it must be impossible
to discover all, or any very large proportion of
those who profess Christianity, and that therefore his
slaughter of a half or a quarter of the whole number,
will be to no purpose. It will have been but killing so
many — there will be no other effect; unless indeed it
have the effect to convince new thousands of the power,
and worth, and divinity of that faith, for which men are
so willing to die.'
`I mourn,' said Portia, `that the great head of the
state, and the great high priest of our religion should
have taken the part he has. Measures of moderation
and true wisdom, though they might not have obtained
for him so great a name for zeal and love of the gods,
nor made so sudden and deep an impression upon the
common mind and heart, would have secured with greater
probability the end at which he has aimed.'
`It is hard,' said I, `to resist nature, especially so
when superstition comes in to its aid. Aurelian, by nature
religion and the priesthood. Moderation and humanity
are so contrary to every principle of the man and his
faith, that they are not with more reason to be looked for
from him than gentleness in a half-starved tiger.'
Portia looked as if I had assailed the walls and capitol
of Rome.
`I know not, Greek,' she quickly said, `on what foundation
it is you build so heavy a charge against the time-honored
faith of Rome. It has served Rome well these
thousand years, and reared men whose greatness will
dwell in the memory of the world while the world lasts.'
`Great men have been reared in Rome,' I replied; `it
can by none be denied. But it has been by resisting
the influences of their religion, not by courting them.
They have left themselves in this to the safer tutelage
of nature, as have you, lady; and they have escaped the
evils, which the common superstition would have entailed
upon them, had they admitted it to their bosoms.
Who can deny that the religion of Rome, so far as it is
a religion for the common people, is based upon the
characters of the gods, as they through history and
tradition are held up to them — especially as they are
painted by the poets? Say if there be any other books
of authority on this great theme than the poets? What
book of religious instruction and precept have you, or
have you ever had, corresponding to the volume of the
Christians, called their gospels?'
`We have none,' said Portia, as I paused compelling
a rejoinder. `It is true, we have but our historians and
our poets, with what we find in the philosophers.'
`And the philosophers,' I replied, `it will be seen at
Whence then do they receive their religious ideas, but
from tradition, and the character of the deities of heaven,
as they are set forth in the poets? And if this be so, I
need not ask whether it be possible that the religion of
Rome should be any other than a source of corruption
to the people. So far as the gods should be their models,
they can do no otherwise than help to sink their imitators
lower and lower in all filth and vice. Happily
for Rome and the world, lady, men instinctively revolt
at such examples, and copy instead the pattern which
their own souls supply. Had the Romans been all which
the imitation of their gods would have made them, this
empire had long ago sunk under the deep pollution.
Fronto and Aurelian — the last at least sincere — aim at
a restoration of religion. They would lift it up to the
highest place, and make it the sovereign law of Rome.
In this attempt, they are unconsciously digging away
her very foundations; they are leveling her proud walls
with the earth. Suppose Rome were made what Fronto
would have her? Every Roman were then another
Fronto — or another Aurelian. Were that a world to
live in? or to endure? These, lady, are the enemies of
Rome, Aurelian and Fronto. The only hope for Rome
lies in the reception of some such principles as these of
the Christians. Whether true or false, they are in accordance
with the best part of our nature, and, once
spread abroad and received, they would tend by a mighty
influence to exalt it more and more. They would descend,
as it is of the nature of absolute truth to do, and
lay hold of the humblest and lowest and vilest, and in
them erect their authority, and bring them into the state,
a man. Hellenism cannot do this.'
`Notwithstanding what I have heard, Nichomachus,
I think you must yourself be a Christian. But whether
you are or not, I grant you to understand well what religion
should be. And I must say that it has ever been
such to me. I, from what I have read of our moralists
and philosophers, and from what I have reflected, have
arrived at principles not very different from such as you
have now hinted at —'
`And are those of Fronto or Varus like yours, lady?'
`I fear not,' said Portia.
`Yours then, let me say, are the religion, which you
have first found within your own breast, a gift from the
gods, and then by meditation have confirmed and exalted;
theirs, the common faith of Rome. Could your faith
rejoice in or permit the horrors I have this day witnessed
and but now described? Yet of theirs they are
the legitimate fruit, the necessary product.'
`Out of the best,' replied Portia, `I believe, Nichomachus,
may often come the worst. There is naught
so perfect and so wise, but human passions will mar and
pervert it. I should not wonder if, in ages to come,
this peace-loving faith of the Christians, should it survive
so long, should itself come to preside over scenes
as full of misery and guilt as those you have to-day
seen in the streets of Rome.'
`It may be,' I rejoined. `But it is nevertheless our
duty, in the selection of our principles, to take those
which are the purest, the most humane, the most accordant
with what is best in us, and the least liable to perversion
and abuse. And whether, if this be just, it be better
and honor the character and actions of Jesus Christ,
or those of Jupiter “Greatet and Best,” may be left for
the simplest to determine.'
Portia is so staunch a Roman, that one cannot doubt
that as she was born and has lived, so she will die — a
Roman. And truth to say, were all like her, there
were little room for quarrel with the principles that
could produce such results. But for one such, there
are a thousand like Varus, Fronto, and Aurelian.
As after this interview, which was prolonged till the
shades of evening began to fall, I held communion with
myself on the way to the quiet retreats of Tibur, I could
not but entertain apprehensions for the safety of the
friends I had just left. I felt that where such men as
Varus and Fronto were at the head of affairs, wielding
almost as they pleased the omnipotence of Aurelian, no
family nor individual of whatever name or rank could
feel secure of either fortune or life. I had heard indeed
such expressions of regard fall from the Emperor
for Piso and his beautiful wife, that I was sure that if
any in Rome might feel safe, it was they. Yet why
should he, who had fallen upon one of his own household,
and such a one as Aurelia, hesitate to strike the
family of Piso, if thereby the religion or the state were
to be greatly benefited? I could see a better chance
for them only in the Emperor's early love of Julia,
which still seemed to exercise over him a singular
power.
The Queen, I found, upon naming to her the subject
of my thoughts, could entertain none of my apprehensions.
It is so difficult for her nature to admit the
that she cannot believe it of others. Notwithstanding
her experience of the harsh and cruel spirit of Aurelian,
notwithstanding the unnecessary destruction, for any
national or political object, of the multitudes of Palmyra,
still she inclines to confide in him. He has given
so many proofs of regret for that wide ruin, he has suffered
so much for it — especially for his murder of Longinus
— in the opinion of all Rome, and of the highest
and best in all nations, that she is persuaded, he will
be more cautious than ever whom he assails, and
where he scatters ruin and death. Still, such is her devotion
to Julia and her love of Piso — so entirely is her
very life lodged in that of her daughter, that she resolved
to seek the Emperor without delay, and if possible
obtain an assurance of their safety, both from his own
arm and that of popular violence. This I urged upon
her with all the freedom I might use; and not in
vain; for the next day, at the gardens of Sallust, she
had repeated interviews with Aurelian — and afterward
at her own palace, whither Aurelian came with Livia,
and where, while Livia ranged among the flowers with
Faustula, the Emperor and the Queen held earnest discourse
— not only on the subject which chiefly agitated
Zenobia, but on the general principles on which he was
proceeding in this attempted annihilation of Christianity.
Sure I am, that never in the Christian body itself
was there one who pleaded their cause with a more
winning and persuasive eloquence.
| Probus, or, Rome in the third century | |