We were silent as he ended, Julia dissolved in tears Isaac went on.
'This is great testimony, Piso, which is borne to thy faith. A poor, weak girl, alone, with not one to look on and encourage, in such a place, and in the clutches of such a hard-hearted wretch, to die without once yielding to her fears or the weakness of her tender nature—it is a thing hardly to be believed, and full of pity. Piso, thou wilt despise me when I say that my tribe rejoices at this, and laughs; that the Jew is seen carrying the news from house to house, and secretly feeding on it as a sweet morsel! And why should he not? Answer me that, Roman! Answer me that, Christian! In thee, Piso, and in every Roman like thee, there is compacted into one the enmity that has both desolated my country, and—far as mortal arm may do so—dragged down to the earth, her altars and her worship. Judea was once happy in her ancient faith; and happier than all in that great hope inspired by our prophets in endless line, of the advent, in the opening ages, of one who should redeem our land from the oppressor, and give to her the empire of the world. Messiah, for whom we waited, and while we waited were content to bear the insults and aggressions of the whole earth—knowing the day of vengeance was not far off—was to be to Judea more than Aurelian to Rome. He was to be our prophet, our priest, and our king, all in one; not man only, but the favored and beloved of God, his Son; and his empire was not to be like this of Rome, hemmed in by this sea and that, hedged about by barbarians on oneside and another, bounded by rivers and hills, but was to stretch over the habitable earth, and Rome itself to be swallowed up in the great possession as a little island in the sea. And then this great kingdom was never to end. It could not be diminished by an enemy taking from it this province and another, as with Rome, nor could there be out of it any power whatever that could assail it; for, by the interference of God, through the right arm of our great Prince, fear, and the very spirit of submission, were to fall on every heart. All was to be Judea's, and Judea's forever; the kingdom was to be over the whole earth; and the reign forever and ever. And in those ages peace was to be on the earth, and universal love. God was to be worshipped by all according to our law, and idolatry and error to cease and come to an end. In this hope, I say, we were happy, in spite of all our vexations. In every heart in our land, whatever sorrows or sufferings might betide, there was a little corner where the spirit could retire and comfort itself with this vision of futurity. Among all the cities of our land, and far away among the rocks and vallies by Jordan and the salt sea, and the mountains of Lebanon, there were no others to be found than men, women, and children, happy in this belief, and by it bound into one band of lovers and friends. And what think you happened? I need not tell you. There came, as thou knowest, this false prophet of Gallilee, and beguiled the people with his smooth words, and perverted the sense of the prophets, and sowed difference and discord among the people; and the cherished vision, upon which the nation had lived and grown, fled like a dream. The Gallilean impostor planted himself upon the soil, and hisroots of poison struck down, and his broad limbs shot, abroad, and half the nation was lost. Its unity was gone, its peace lost, its heart broken, its hope, though living still, yet obscured and perplexed. Canst thou wonder then Piso, or thou, thou weeping princess, that the Jew stands by and laughs when the Christian's turn comes, and the oppressor is oppressed, the destroyer destroyed? And when, Piso, the Christian had done his worst, despoiling us of our faith, our hope, our prince, and our God; not satisfied, he brought the Roman upon us, and despoiled us of our country itself. Now, and for two centuries, all is gone. Judea, the beautiful land, sits solitary and sad. Her sons and daughters wanderers over the earth, and trodden into the dust. When shall the light arise! and he, whom we yet look for, come and turn back the flood that has swept over us, and reverse the fortunes befallen to one and the other? The chariot of God tarries; but it does not halt. The wheels are turning, and when it is not thought of, it will come rolling onward with the voice of many thunders, and the great restoration shall be made, and a just judgment be meted out to all. What wonder, I say then, Piso, if my people look on and laugh, when this double enemy is in straits? when the Christian and Roman in one, is caught in the snare and can not escape? That laugh will ring through the streets of Rome, and will out-sound the roaring of the lions and the shouts of the theatre. Nature is strong in man, Piso, and I do not believe thou wilt think the worse of our people, if bearing what they have, this nature should break forth. Hate them not altogether, Roman, when thou shalt see them busy at the engines or the stake, orthe theatres. Remember the cause! Remember the cause! But we are not all such. I wish, Piso, thou couldst abandon this faith. There will else be no safety to thee, I fear, ere not many days. What has overtaken the lady Aurelia, of the very family of the Emperor, will surely overtake others. Piso, I would fain serve thee, if I may. Though I hate the Roman, and the Christian, and thee, as a Jew, yet so am I, that I cannot hate them as a man, or not unto death; and thee do I love. Now it is my counsel, that thou do in season escape. Now thou canst do it; wait but a few days, and, perhaps, thou canst no longer. What I say is, fly! and, it were best, to the farthest east; first, to Palmyra, and then, if need be, to Persia. This, Piso, is what I am come for.'
'Isaac, this all agrees with the same goodness—'
'I am a poor, miserable wretch, whom God may forgive, because his compassions never fail, but who has no claim on his mercy, and will be content to sit hereafter where he shall but just catch, now and then, a glimpse of the righteous.'
'I must speak my thoughts, not yours, Isaac. This all agrees with what we have known of you; and, with all our hearts, you have our thanks. But we are bound to this place by ties stronger than any that bind us to life, and must not depart.'
'Say not so! Lady, speak! Why should ye remain to add to the number that must fall? Rank will not stand in the way of Aurelian.'
'That we know well, Isaac,' said Julia. 'We should not look for any shield such as that to protect us, nor for any other. Life is not the chief thing, Isaac. Whatis life, without liberty? Would you live, a slave? and is not he the meanest slave, who bends his will to another? who renounces the thoughts he dearly cherishes for another's humor? Who will beggar the soul, to save, or serve, the body?'
'Alas, princess, I fear there is more courage in thee, woman as thou art, than in this old frame! I love my faith, too, princess, and I labor for it in my way; but, may the God of Abraham spare me the last trial! And wouldst thou give up thy body to the tormentors and the executioner, to keep the singleness of thy mind, so that merely a few little thoughts, which no man can see, may run in and out of it, as they list?'
'Even so, Isaac.'
'It is wonderful,' exclaimed the Jew, 'what a strength there is in man! how, for an opinion, which can be neither bought, nor sold, nor weighed, nor handled, nor seen—a thing, that, by the side of lands, and gold, and houses, seems less than the dust of the balance—men and women, yea, and little children, will suffer and die; when a word, too, which is but a little breath blown out of the mouth, would save them!'
'But, it is no longer wonderful,' said Julia, 'when we look at our whole selves, and not only at one part. We are all double, one part, of earth, another, of heaven; one part, gross body, the other, etherial spirit; one part, life of the body, the other, life of the soul. Which of these parts is the better, it is not hard to determine. Should I gain much by defiling the heavenly, for the sake of the earthly? by injuring the mind, for the preservation of the body; by keeping longer the life I live now, but darkening over the prospect of the life thatis hereafter? If I possess a single truth, which I firmly believe to be a truth, I cannot say that it is a lie, for the sake of some present benefit or deliverance, without fixing a stain thereby, not on the body, which by and by perishes, but on the soul, which is immortal; and which would then forever bear about with it the unsightly spot.'
'It is so; it is as you say, lady; and rarely has the Jew been known to deny his name and his faith. Since you have spoken, I find thoughts called up which have long slept. Despise me not, for my proposal, yet I would there were a way of escape! Flight now, would not be denial, or apostacy.'
'It would not,' said Julia. 'And we may not judge with harshness those whose human courage fails them under the apprehension of the sufferings which often await the persecuted. But, with my convictions, and Piso's, the guilt and baseness of flight or concealment would be little less than that of denial or apostacy. We have chosen this religion for its divine truth, and its immortal prospects; we believe it a good which God has sent to us; we believe it the most valuable possession we hold; we believe it essential to the world's improvement and happiness. Believing it thus, we must stand by it; and, if it come to this—as I trust in Heaven it will not, notwithstanding the darkness of the portents—that our regard for it will be questioned except we die for it—then we will die.'
Isaac rose, and began to fasten on his pack. As he did so, he said,
'Excellent lady, I grieve that thou shouldst be brought from thy far home, and those warm and sunny skies, to meet the rude shocks of this wintry land. Itwas enough to see what thou didst there, and to know what befell thy ancient friends. The ways of Providence, to our eyes, are darker than the Egyptian night, brought upon that land by the hand of Moses. It is darkness solid and impenetrable. The mole sees farther toward the earth's centre, than does my dim eye into the judgments of God. And what wonder? when he is God looking down upon earth and man's ways as I upon an ant-hill, and seeing all at once. To such an eye, lady, that may be best which to mine is worst.'
'I believe it is often so, Isaac,' replied Julia. 'Just as in nauseous drugs or rankest poisons there is hidden away medicinal virtue, so is there balm for the soul, by which its worst diseases are healed and its highest health promoted, in sufferings, which, as they first fall upon us, we lament as unmitigated evil. I know of no state of mind so proper to beings like us, as that indicated by a saying of Christ, which I shall repeat to you, though you honor not its source, and which seems to me to comprehend all religion and philosophy, "Not my will, but thine, O God, be done!" We never take our true position, and so never can be contented and happy, till we renounce our own will, and believe all the whole providence of God to be wisest and best, simply because it is his. Should I dare, were the power this moment given me, to strike out for myself my path in life, arrange its events, fix my lot? Not the most trivial incident can be named that I should not tremble to order otherwise than as it happens.'
'There is wisdom, princess, in the maxim of thy prophet, and its spirit is found in many of the sayings of truer prophets who went before him, whose wordsare familiar to thy royal mother, though, I fear, they are not to thee; a misfortune, wholly to be traced to that misadventure of thine, Piso, in being thrown into the company of the Christian Probus on board the Mediterranean trader. Had I been alone with thee on that voyage, who can say that thou wouldst not now have been what, but this morning, I took thee for, as I looked upon those marble figures?'
'But, Isaac, forget not your own principles,' said Julia. 'May you, who cannot, as you have said, see the end from the beginning, and whose sight is but a mole's, dare to complain of the providence which threw Piso into the society of the Christian Probus? I am sure you would not, on reflection, re-arrange those events, were it now permitted you. And seeing, Isaac, how much better things are ordered by the Deity than we could do it, and how we should choose voluntarily to surrender all into his hands, whose wisdom is so much more perfect, and whose power is so much more vast, than ours, ought we not, as a necessary consequence of this, to acquiesce in events without complaint, when they have once occurred? If Providence had made both Piso and Probus Christians, then ought you not to complain, but acquiesce; and, more than that, revere the Providence that has done it, and love those none the less whom it has directed into the path in which it would have them go. True piety, is the mother of charity.'
'Princess,' rejoined Isaac, 'you are right. The true love of God cannot exist, without making us true lovers of man; and Piso I do love, and think none the worse of him for his Christian name. But, touching Probus, and others, I experience some difficulty. Yet may Iperhaps, escape thus—I may love them as men, yet hate them as Christians; just as I would bind up the wounds of a thief or an assassin, whom I found by the wayside, and yet the next hour bear witness against him, and without compunction behold him swinging upon the gibbet! It is hard, lady, for the Jew to love a Christian and a Roman.—But how have I been led away from what I wished chiefly to say before departing! When I spake just now of the darkness of Providence, I was thinking, Piso, of my journey across the desert for thy Persian brother, Calpurnius. That, as I then said to thee, was dark to me. I could not comprehend how it should come to pass that I, a Jew, of no less zeal than Simon Ben Gorah himself, should tempt such dangers in the service of thee, a Roman, and half a Christian.'
'And is the enigma solved at length?' asked Julia.
'I could have interpreted it by saying that the merit of doing a benevolent action was its solution.'
'That was little or nothing, princess. But I confess to thee, that the two gold talents of Jerusalem were much. Still, neither they, nor what profit I made in the streets of Ecbatana, and even out of that new Solomon the hospitable Levi, clearly explained the riddle. I have been in darkness till of late. And how, think you, the darkness has been dispersed?'
'We cannot tell.'
'I believe not. Piso! princess! I am the happiest man in Rome.'
'Not happier, Isaac, than Civilis the perfumer.'
'Name him not, Piso. Of all the men—he is no man—of all the living things in Rome I hold himmeanest. Him, Piso, I hate. Why, I will not tell thee, but thou mayest guess. Nay, not now. I would have thee first know why I am the happiest man in Rome. Remember you the woman and the child, whom, in the midst of that burning desert, we found sitting, more dead than alive, at the roots of a cedar—the wife, as we afterwards found, of Hassan the camel-driver—and how that child, the living resemblance of my dead Joseph, wound itself round my heart, and how I implored the mother to trust it to me as mine, and I would make it richer than the richest of Ecbatana?'
'We remember it all well.'
'Well, rejoice with me! Hassan is dead!'
'Rejoice in her husband's death? Nay, that we cannot do. Milo will rejoice with thee.'
'Rejoice with me, then, that Hassan, being dead by the providence of God, Hagar and Ishmael are now mine!'—and the Jew threw down his pack again in the excess of his joy, and strode wildly about the portico.
'This is something indeed,' said Julia. 'Now, we can rejoice sincerely with you. But how happened all this? When, and how, have you obtained the news?'
'Hassan,' replied Isaac, 'as Providence willed it, died in Palmyra. His disconsolate widow, hearing of his death, in her poverty and affliction bethought herself of me, and applied, for intelligence of me, to Levi; from whom a letter came, saying that Hagar had made now on her part the proposal that had once been made on mine—that Ishmael should be mine, provided, he was not to be separated from his mother and a sister older than he by four years. I, indeed, proposed not for the woman, but for the child only—nor for the sister. Butthey will all be welcome. They must, by this, be in Palmyra on their way to Rome. Yes, they will be all welcome! for now once more shall the pleasant bonds of a home hold me, and the sounds of children's voices—sweeter to my ear than will ever be the harps of angels though Gabriel sweep the strings. Already, in the street Janus, where our tribe most resort, have I purchased me a house; not, Roman, such a one as I dwelt in in Palmyra, where thou and thy foolish slave searched me out, but large and well-ordered, abounding with all that woman's heart could most desire. And now what think you of all this? whither tends it? to what leads all this long and costly preparation? what think you is to come of it? I have my own judgment. This I know, it cannot be all for this, that a little child of a few years should come and dwell with an old man little removed from the very borders of the grave! Had it been only for this, so large and long a train of strange and wild events would not have been laid. This child, Piso, is more than he seems! take that and treasure it up. It is to this the finger of God has all along pointed. He is more than he seems! What he will be I say not, but I can dimly—nay clearly guess. And his mother! Piso, what will you think when I say that she is a Jewess! and his father—what will you think when I tell you that he was born upon the banks of the Gallilean lake?—that misfortunes and the love of a wandering life drew him from Judea to the farther East, and to a temporary, yet but apparent apostacy, I am persuaded, from his proper faith? This to me is all wonderful. Never have I doubted, that by my hand, by me as a mediator, some great good was to accrue to Jerusalem. And nowthe clouds divide, and my eye sees what has been so long concealed. It shall all come to pass, before thy young frame, princess, shall be touched by years.'
'We wish you all happiness and joy, Isaac,' replied Julia; 'and soon as this young family shall have reached your dwelling, we shall trust to see them all, specially this young object of thy great expectations.'
Isaac again fastened on his pack, and taking leave of us turned to depart, but ere he did so, he paused—fixed his dark eyes upon us—hesitated—and then said,
'Lady, if trouble flow in upon you here in Rome, and thou wilt not fly, as I have counseled, to Palmyra; but thou shouldst by and by change thy mind and desire safety, or Piso should wish thee safe—perhaps, that by thy life thou mightest work more mightily for thy faith than thou couldst do by thy death—for oftentimes it is not by dying that we best serve God, or a great cause, but by living—then, bethink thee of my dwelling in the street Janus, where, if thou shouldst once come, I would challenge all the blood-hounds in Rome, and what is more and worse, Fronto and Varus leagued, to find thee. Peace be with you.'
And so saying, he quickly parted from us.
All Rome, Fausta, holds not a man of a larger heart than Isaac the Jew. For us, Christians as we are, there is I believe no evil to himself he would not hazard, if, in no other way, he could shield us from the dangers that impend. In his conscience he feels bound to hate us, and, often, from the language he uses, it might be inferred that he does so. But in any serious expression of his feelings, his human affections ever obtain thevictory over the obligations of hatred, which his love of country, as he thinks, imposes upon him, and it would be difficult for him to manifest a warmer regard toward any of his own tribe, than he does toward Julia and myself. He is firmly persuaded, that providence is using him as an instrument, by which to effect the redemption and deliverance of his country; not that he himself is to prove the messiah of his nation—as they term their great expected prince—but that through him, in some manner, by some service rendered or office filled, that great personage will manifest himself to Israel. No disappointment damps his zeal, or convinces him of the futility of expectations resting upon no other foundation than his own inferences, conjectures, or fanciful interpretation of the dark sayings of the prophets. When in the East, it was through Palmyra, that his country was to receive her king; through her victories, that redemption was to be wrought out for Israel. Being compelled to let go that dear and cherished hope, he now fixes it upon this little "Joseph," and it will not be strange if this child of poverty and want should in the end inherit all his vast possessions, by which, he will please himself with thinking, he can force his way to the throne of Judea. Portia derives great pleasure from his conversation, and frequently detains him long for that purpose; and of her Isaac is never weary uttering the most extravagant praise. I sometimes wonder that I never knew him before the Mediterranean voyage, seeing he was so well known to Portia; but then again do not wonder, when I remember by what swarms of mendicants, strangers, and impostors of every sort, Portia was ever surrounded, from whom I turned instinctively away; especially did I ever avoid all intercourse with Christians and Jews. I held them, of all, lowest and basest.
We are just returned from Tibur, where we have enjoyed many pleasant hours with Zenobia. Livia was there also. The day was in its warmth absolutely Syrian, and while losing ourselves in the mazes of the Queen's extensive gardens, we almost fancied ourselves in Palmyra. Nicomachus being of the company, as he ever is, and Vabalathus, we needed but you, Calpurnius, and Gracchus, to complete the illusion.
The Queen devotes herself to letters. She is rarely drawn from her favorite studies, but by the arrival of friends from Rome. Happy for her is it that, carried back to other ages by the truths of history, or transported to other worlds by the fictions of poetry, the present and the recent can be in a manner forgotten; or, at least, that, in these intervals of repose, the soul can gather strength for the thoughts and recollections which will intrude, and which still sometimes overmaster her. Her correspondence with you is another chief solace. She will not doubt that by and by a greater pleasure awaits her, and that instead of your letters she shall receive and enjoy yourself. Farewell.
The body of the Christians, as you may well suppose, Fausta, is in a state of much agitation. Though they cannot discern plainly the form of the danger that impends, yet they discern it; and the very obscurity in which it is involved adds to their fears. It is several days since I last wrote, yet not a word has come from the palace. Aurelian is seen as usual in all public places; at the capitol, taking charge of the erection and completion of various public edifices; or, if at the palace, he rides as hard as ever, and as much, upon his Hippodrome; or, if at the Pretorian camp, he is exact and severe as ever in maintaining the discipline of the Legions. He has issued no public order of any kind that bears upon us. Yet not only the Christians, but the whole city, stand as if in expectation of measures of no little severity, going at least to the abridgement of many of our liberties, and to the deprivation of many of our privileges. This is grounded chiefly, doubtless, upon the reported imprisonment of Aurelia; for, though some have little hesitation in declaring their belief, that she has been made way with, others believe it not at all; and none can assign a reason for receiving one story rather than another. How Isaac came to be possessed of his information I do not know, but it bore all the marks of truth. He would inform me neither how he came byit, nor would he allow it to be communicated. But it would never be surprising to discover, that of my most private affairs he has a better knowledge than myself.
Do not, from what I have said, conceive of the Christians as giving any signs of unmanly fear. They perceive that danger threatens, but they change not their manner of life, not turn from the daily path of their pursuits. Believing in a providence, they put their trust in it. Their faith stands them in stead as a sufficient support and refuge. They cannot pretend, any more than Isaac, to see through the plans and purposes of Heaven. They pretend not to know, nor to be able to explain to another, why, if what they receive is the truth, and they are true believers in a true religion, they should be exposed to such sufferings for its sake; and that which is false, and injurious as false, should triumph. It is enough for them, they say, to be fully persuaded; to know, and possess, the truth. They can never relinquish it; they will rather die. But, whether Christianity die with them or not, they cannot tell—that they leave to God. They do not believe that it will—prophecy, and the present condition of the world, notwithstanding a present overhanging cloud, give them confidence in the ultimate extension and power of their faith. At any rate it shall receive no injury at their hands. They have professed it during twenty years of prosperity, and have boasted of it before the world—they shall profess it with the same boldness, and the same grateful attachment, now that adversity approaches. They are fixed—calm—unmoved. Except for a deeper tone of earnestness and feeling when you converse with them,and a cast of sadness upon the countenance, you would discern no alteration in their conduct or manner.
I might rather say that, in a very large proportion, there are observable the signs of uncommon and almost unnatural exhilaration. They even greet the coming of trouble as that which shall put their faith to the test, shall give a new testimony of the readiness of Christians to suffer, and, like the former persecution, give it a new impulse forwards. They seek occasions of controversy and conversation with the Pagans at public places, at their labor, and in the streets. The preachers assume a bolder, louder tone, and declaim with ten times more vehemence than ever against the enormities and abominations of the popular religions. Often at the market-places, and at the corners of the streets, are those to be seen, not authorized preachers perhaps, but believers and overflowing with zeal, who, at the risk of whatever popular fury and violence, hold forth the truth in Christ, and denounce the reigning idolatries and superstitions.
At the head of these is Macer; at their head, both as respects the natural vigor of his understanding, and the perfect honesty and integrity of his mind, and his dauntless courage. Every day, and all the day, is he to be found in the streets of Rome, sometimes in one quarter, sometimes in another, gathering an audience of the passengers or idlers, as it may be, and sounding in their ears the truths of the new religion. That he, and others of the same character, deserve in all they do the approbation of the Christian body, or receive it, is more than can be said. They are often, by their violences in the midst of their harangues, by harsh and uncharitabledenunciations, by false and exaggerated statements, the causes of tumult and disorder, and contribute greatly to increase the general exasperation against us. With them it seems to be a maxim, that all means are lawful in a good cause. Nay, they seem rather to prefer the ruder and rougher forms of attack. They seem possessed of the idea that the world is to be converted in a day, and that if men will not at once relinquish the prejudices or the faith of years, they are fit but for cursings and burnings. In setting forth the mildest doctrine the world ever knew, delivered to mankind by the gentlest, the most patient and compassionate being it ever saw they assume a manner and use a language so entirely at variance with their theme, that it is no wonder if prejudices are strengthened oftener than they are set loose, incredulity made more incredulous, and the hardened yet harder of heart. They who hear notice the discrepancy, and fail not to make the use of it they may. When will men learn that the mind is a fortress that can never be taken by storm? You may indeed enter it rudely and by violence, and the signs of submission shall be made: but all the elements of opposition are still there. Reason has not been convinced; errors and misconceptions have not been removed, by a wise and logical and humane dealing, and supplanted by truths well proved, and shown to be truths;—and the victory is one in appearance only. And, what is more, violence, on the part of the reformer and assailant, begets violence on the other side. The whole inward man, with all his feelings, prejudices, reason, is instantly put into a posture of defence; not only of defence, for that were right, but of angry defence, which is wrong. Passion is up,which might otherwise have slept; and it is passion, never reason, which truth has to fear. The intellect in its pure form, the advocate of truth would always prefer to meet, for he can never feel sure of a single step made till this has been gained. But intellect, inflamed by passion, he may well dread, as what there is but small hope even of approaching, much less of convincing.
Often has Probus remonstrated with this order of men, but in vain. They heed him not, but in return charge him with coldness and indifference, worldliness, and all other associated faults. Especially has he labored to preserve Macer from the extremes to which he has run; for he has seen in him an able advocate of Christian truth, could he but be moderated and restrained. But Macer, though he has conceived the strongest affection for Probus, will not allow himself in this matter to be influenced by him. He holds himself answerable to conscience and God alone for the course he pursues. As for the consequences that may ensue, either to himself or his family, his mind cannot entertain them. It is for Christ he lives, and for Christ he is ready to die.
I had long wished to meet him and witness his manner both of acting and of preaching, and yesterday I was fortunate enough to encounter him. I shall give you, as exactly as I can, what took place; it will show you better than many letters could do what, in one direction, are our present position and prospects.
I was in the act of crossing the great avenue, which, on the south, leads to the Forum, when I was arrested by a disorderly crowd, such as we often see gathered suddenly in the street of a city about a thief who has been caught, or a person who has been trodden downon the pavement. It moved quickly in the direction of the tribunal of Varus, and, what was my surprise, to behold Macer, in the midst, with head aloft, and inflamed countenance, holding in his grasp, and dragging onwards, one, who would willingly have escaped. The crowd seemed disposed, as I judged by the vituperations that were directed against Macer, to interfere, but were apparently deterred by both the gigantic form of Macer and their vicinity to the tribunal, whither he was going. Waiting till they were at some distance in advance of me, I then followed, determined to judge for myself of this singular man. I was with them in the common hall before the prefect had taken his seat. When seated at his tribunal, he inquired the cause of the tumult, and who it was that wished to appeal to him.
'I am the person,' said Macer; 'and I come to drag to justice this miscreant—'
'And who may you be?'
'I should think Varus might recognize Macer.'
'It is so long since I met thee last at the Emperor's table, that thy features have escaped me.'
At which, as was their duty, the attendant rabble laughed.
'Is there any one present,' continued the prefect, 'who knows this man?'
'Varus need apply to no other than myself,' said Macer. 'I am Macer, the son of that Macer who was neighbor of the gladiator Pollex,—'
'Hold, I say,' interrupted the prefect; 'a man witnesses not here of himself. Can any one here say that this man is not crazy or drunk?'
'Varus! prefect Varus—' cried Macer, his eyesflashing lightning, and his voice not less than thunder; but he was again interrupted.
'Peace, slave! or rods shall teach thee where thou art.' And at the same moment, at a sign from Varus, he was laid hold of with violence by officials of the place armed with spears and rods, and held.
'What I wish to know then,' said Varus, turning to the crowd, 'is, whether this is not the street brawler, one of the impious Gallileans, a man who should long ago have been set in the stocks to find leisure for better thoughts?'
Several testified, as was desired, that this was he.
'This is all I wish to know,' said the prefect. 'The man is either without wits, or they are disordered, or else the pestilent faith he teaches has made the nuisance of him he is, as it does of all who meddle with it. It is scarcely right that he should be abroad. Yet has he committed no offence that condemns him either to scourging or the prison. Hearken therefore, fellow! I now dismiss thee without the scourging thou well deservest; but, if thou keep on thy wild and lawless way, racks and dungeons shall teach thee what there is in Roman justice. Away with him!'
'Romans! Roman citizens!' cried Macer; 'are these your laws and this your judge?—'
'Away with him, I say!' cried the prefect; and the officers of the palace hurried him out of the hall.
As he went, a voice from the crowd shouted,
'Roman citizens, Macer, are long since dead. 'Tis a vain appeal.'
'I believe you,' replied Macer; 'tyrant and slave stand now for all who once bore the proud name of Roman.'
This violence and injustice on the part of Varus must be traced—for though capricious, and imperious, this is not his character—to the language of Macer in the shop of Publius, and to his apprehension lest the same references to his origin, which he would willingly have forgotten, should be made, and perhaps more offensively still, in the presence of the people. Probus, on the former occasion, lamented deeply that Macer should have been tempted to rehearse in the way he did some of the circumstances of the prefect's history, as its only end could be to needlessly irritate the man of power, and raise up a bitterer enemy than we might otherwise have found in him.
Upon leaving the tribunal, I was curious to watch still further the movements of the Christian. The crowd about him increased rather than diminished, as he left the building and passed into the street. At but a little distance from the hall of the prefect, stands the Temple of Peace, with its broad and lofty flights of steps. When Macer had reached it he paused, and looked round upon the motley crowd that had gathered about him.
'Go up! go up!' cried several voices. 'We will hear thee.'
'There is no prefect here,' cried another.
Macer needed no urging, but quickly strode up the steps, till he stood between the central columns of the temple and his audience had disposed themselves below him in every direction, when he turned and gazed upon the assembled people, who had now—by the addition of such as passed along, and who had no more urgent business than to attend to that of any others whom they might chance to meet,—grown to a multitude. After looking upon them for a space, as if studying their characters, and how he could best adapt his discourse to their occasions, he suddenly and abruptly broke out—
'You have asked me to come up here; and I am here; glad for once to be in such a place by invitation. And now I am here, and am about to speak, you will expect me to say something of the Christians.'
'Yes yes.'
'But I shall not—not yet. Perhaps by and by. In the meantime my theme shall be the prefect! the prefect Varus!'
'A subject full of matter,' cried one near Macer.
'Better send for him,' said another. 'Twere a pity he lost it.'
'Yes,' continued Macer, 'it is a subject full of matter, and I wish myself he were here to see himself in the mirror I would hold before him; he could not but grow pale with affright. You have just had a sample of Roman justice! How do you like it, Romans? I had gone there to seek justice; not for a Christian, but against a Christian. A Christian master had abused his slave with cruelty, I standing by; and when to my remonstrance—myself feeling the bitter stripes he laid on—he did but ply his thongs the more, I seized the hardened monster by the neck, and wrenching from his grasp the lash, I first plied it upon his own back, and then dragged him to the judgment-seat of Varus,—'
'O fool!'
'You say well—fool that I was, crying for justice! How I was dealt with, some of you have seen. There, I say, was a sample of Roman justice for you! So in these times does power sport itself with poverty. Itwas not so once in Rome. Were Cincinnatus or Regulus at the tribunal of Varus, they would fare like the soldier Macer. And who, Romans, is this Varus? and why is he here in the seat of authority? At the tribunal, Varus did not know me. But what if I were to tell you there was but a thin wall between the rooms where we were born, and that when we were boys we were ever at the same school!—not such schools as you are thinking of, where the young go for letters and for Greek, but the school where many of you have been and are now at, I dare say, the school of Roman vice, which you may find always open all along the streets, but especially where I and Varus were, in one of the sinks near the Flavian. Pollex, the gladiator, was father of Varus!—not worse, but just as bad, as savage, as beastly in his vices, as are all of that butcher tribe. My father—Macer too—I will not say more of him than that he was keeper of the Vivaria of the amphitheatre, and passed his days in caging and uncaging the wild beasts of Asia and Africa; in feeding them when there were no games on foot, and starving them when there were. Varus, the prefect, Romans, and I, were at this school till I joined the legions under Valerian, and he, by a luckier fortune, as it would be deemed, found favor in the eyes of Gallienus, to whom, with his fair sister Fannia, he was sold by those demons Pollex and Cæicina. I say nothing of how it fared with him in that keeping. Fannia has long since found the grave. Is Varus one who should sit at the head of Rome? He is a man of blood, of crime, of vice, such as you would not bear to be told of! I say not this as if he were answerable for his birth and early vice, but that, being such, this is not his place. He could not help it, nor I, that we were born and nurtured where we were; that the sight of blood and the smell of it, either of men or beasts, was never out of our eyes and nostrils, during all our boyhood and youth; that to him, and me, the sweetest pleasure of our young life was, when the games came on, and the beasts were let loose upon one another, and,—O the hardening of that life!—when, specially, there were prisoners or captives, on which to glut their raging hunger! Those were the days and hours marked whitest in our calendar. And, whitest of all, were the days of the Decian persecution, when the blood of thrice cursed Christians, as I was taught to name them, flowed like water. Every day then Varus and I had our sport; working up the beasts, by our torments, to an unnatural height of madness ere they were let loose, and then rushing to the gratings, as the doors were thrown open, to see the fury with which they would spring upon their defenceless victims too, and tear them piecemeal. The Romans required such servants—and we were they. They require them now, and you may find any number of such about the theatres. But if there must be such there, why should they be taken thence and put upon the judgment-seat? save, for the reason, that they may have been thoroughly purged, as it were, by fire—which Varus has not been. What with him was necessary and forced when young, is now chosen and voluntary. Vice is now his by election. Now, I ask, why has the life of Varus been such? and why, being such, is he here? Because you are so! Yes, because you are all like him! It is you, Roman citizens, who rearthe theatres, the circuses, and the thousand temples of vice, which crowd the streets of Rome,—'
'No, no! it is the emperors.'
'But who make the emperors? You Romans of these times, are a race of cowards and slaves, and it is therefore that tyrants rule over you. Were you freemen, with the souls of freemen in you, do you think you would bear as you do—and love and glory in the yoke—this rule of such creatures as Varus, and others whom it were not hard to name? I know what you are—for I have been one of you. I have not been, nor am I now, hermit, as you may think, being a Christian. A Christian is a man of the world—a man of action and of suffering—not of rest and sleep. I have ever been abroad among men, both before I was a Christian and since; and I know what you are. You are of the same stamp as Varus! nay, start not, nor threaten with your eyes,—I fear you not. If you are not so, why, I say, is Varus there? You know that I speak the truth. The people of Rome are corrupt as their rulers! How should it be much otherwise? You are fed by the largesses of the Emperor, you have your two loaves a day and your pork, and you need not and so do not work. You have no employment but idleness, and idleness is not so much a vice itself as the prolific mother of all vices. When I was one of you, it was so; and so it is now. My father's labor was nothing; he was kept by the state. The Emperor was not more a man of pleasure than he, nor the princes, than I and Varus. Was that a school of virtue? When I left the service of the amphitheatre I joined the Legions. In the army I had work, and I had fighting, but my passions, in the earlydays of that service, raged like the sea; and during all the reign of Valerian's son there was no bridle upon them;—for I served under the general Carinus, and what Carinus was and is, most of you know. O the double horrors of those years! I was older, and yet worse and worse. God! I marvel that thou didst not interpose and strike me dead! But thy mercy spared me, and now the lowest, lowest hell shall not be mine.' Tears, forced by these recollections, flowed down his cheeks, and for a time he was speechless.
'Such, Romans, was I once. What am I now? I am a changed man—through and through. There is not a thought of my mind, nor a fibre of my body, what they were once. You may possibly think the change has been for the worse, seeing me thus thrust forth from the tribunal of the prefect with dishonor, when I was once a soldier and an officer under Aurelian. I would rather a thousand times be what I am, a soldier of Jesus Christ. And I would that, by anything I could do, you, any one of you, might be made to think so too; I would that Varus might, for I bear him no ill will.
'But what am I now? I am so different a man from what I once was, that I can hardly believe myself to be the same. The life which I once led, I would not lead again—no—not one day nor hour of it, though you would depose Aurelian to day and crown me Cæsar to-morrow. I would no more return to that life, than I would consent to lose my nature and take a swine's, and find elysium where as a man I once did, in sinks and sties. I would not renounce for the wealth of all the world, and its empire too, that belief in the faith ofChrist, the head of the Christians, which has wrought so within me.
'And what has made me so—would make you so—if you would but hearken to it. And would it not be a good thing if the flood of vice, which pours all through the streets of Rome, were stayed? Would it not be a happy thing, if the misery which dwells beneath these vaulted roofs and these humbler ones equally, the misery which drunkenness and lust, the lust of money, and the love of place, and every evil passion generates, were all wiped away, and we all lived together observant of the rights of one another, helping one another; not oppressing; loving, not hating; showing in our conduct as men, the virtues of little children? Would it not be happier if all this vast population were bound together by some common ties of kindred; if all held all as brethren; if the poor man felt himself to be the same as Aurelian himself, because he is a man like him and weighs just as much as he in the scales of God, and that it is the vice in the one or the other, and that only that sinks him lower? Would it not be better, if you all could see in the presiding power of the universe, one great and good Being, who needs not to be propitiated by costly sacrifices of oxen or bulls, nor by cruel ones of men,—but is always kindly disposed towards you, and desires nothing so much as to see you living virtuously, and is never grieved as he is to see you ruining your own peace,—not harming him—by your vices? for you will bear witness with me that your vices are never a cause of happiness. Would it not be better if you could behold such a God over you, in the place of those who arecalled gods, and whom you worship, as I did once, because I feared to do otherwise, and yet sin on never the less: who are your patterns not so much in virtue as in all imaginable vice?'
'Away with the wicked!'—'Away with the fellow!' cried several voices; but others predominated, saying, 'Let him alone!'—'He speaks well! We will hear him!'—'We will defend him! go on, go on!'
'I have little or nothing more to say,' continued Macer. 'I will only ask you whether you must not judge that to be a very powerful principle of some kind that drew me up out of that foul pit into which I was fallen, and made me what I am now? Which of you now feels that he has motive strong enough to work out such a deliverance for him? What help in this way do you receive from your priests, if perchance you ever apply to them? What book of instructions concerning the will of the gods have you, to which you can go at any time and all times? Only believe as I do, Romans, and you will hate sin as I do. You cannot help it. Believe in the God that I do, and in the revealer of his will, the teacher whom he sent into the world to save us from our heathen errors and vices, and you will then be more than the Romans you once were. You are now, and you know it, infinitely less. Then you will be what the old Romans were and more. You will be as brave as they, and more just. You will be as generous and more gentle. You will love your own country as well, but you will love others too. You will be more ready to offer up your lives for your country, for it will be better worth dying for; every citizen will be a brother; every ruler a brother; it will be like dying foryour own little household. If you would see Rome flourish, she must become more pure. She can stagger along not much longer under this mountain weight of iniquity that presses her into the dust. She needs a new Hercules to cleanse her foul chambers. Christ is he; and if you will invite him, he will come and sweep away these abominations, so that imperial Rome shall smell fragrantly as a garden of spices.'
Loud exclamations of approval here interrupted Macer. The great proportion of those who were present were now evidently with him, and interested in his communications.
'Tell us,' cried one, as soon as the noise subsided, 'how you became what you are? What is to be done?'
'Yes,' cried many voices, 'tell us.'
'I will tell you gladly,' answered Macer. 'I first heard the word of truth from the lips of Probus, a preacher of the Christians, whom you too may hear whenever you will, by seeking him out on the days when the Christians worship. Probus was in early life a priest of the temple of Jupiter, and if any man in Rome can place the two religions side by side, and make the differences plain, it is he. Go to him such of you as can, and you will never repent it. But if you would all learn the first step toward Christian truth, and all truth, it is this; lay aside your prejudices, be willing to see, hear, and judge for yourselves. Take not rumor for truth. Do not believe without evidence both for and against. You would not, without evidence and reason, charge Aurelian with the death of Aurelia, though ten thousand tongues report it. Charge not the Christians with worse things then, merely because the wicked and ill-disposed maliciously invent them and spread them. If you would know the whole truth and doctrine of Christians; if you would ascend to the fountain-head of all Christian wisdom, take to your homes our sacred books and read them. Some of you at least can obtain them. Let one purchase, and then twenty or fifty read. One thing before I cease. Believe not the wicked aspersions of the prefect. He charges me as a brawler, a disturber of the peace and order of the city. Romans, believe me, I am a lover of peace, but I am a lover of freedom too. Because I am a lover of peace, and would promote it, do I labor to teach the doctrines of Christ, which are doctrines of peace and love, both at home and abroad, in the city and throughout the world; and because I am the friend of freedom, do I open my mouth at all times and in every place, wherever I can find those who, like you, are ready to hear the words of salvation. When in Rome I can no longer speak—no longer speak for the cause of what I deem truth, then will I no longer be a Roman. Then will I that day renounce my name and my country. Thanks to Aurelian, he has never chained up the tongue. I have fought and bled under him, and never was there a braver man, or who honored courage more in others. I do not believe he will ever do so cowardly a thing as to restrain the freedom of men's speech. Aurelian is some things, but he is not others. He is severe and cruel, but not mean. Cut Aurelian in two, and throw the worser half away, and t'other is as royal a man as ever the world saw.
'One thing more, good friends and citizens: If I am sometimes carried away by my passions to do that which seems a disturbance of the common order, say that it isthe soldier Macer that does it, not his Christian zeal—his human passions, not his new-adopted faith. It is not at once and perfectly that a man passes from one life to another; puts off one nature and takes another. Much that belonged to Macer of the amphitheatre, and Macer the soldier, cleaves to him now. But make not his religion amenable for that. You who would see the law of Christ written, not only on a book but in the character and life of a living man, go read the Christian Probus.'
As he said these words he began to descend the steps of the temple; but many crowded round him, assailing him, some with reproaches, and others with inquiries put by those who seemed anxious to know the truth. The voices of his opponents were the most violent and prevailed, and made me apprehensive that they would proceed to greater length than speech. But Macer stood firm, nothing daunted by the uproar. One, who signalized himself by the loudness and fierceness of his cries, exclaimed, 'that he was nothing else than an atheist like all the rest of the Christians; they have no gods; they deny the gods of Rome, and they give us nothing in their stead.'
'We deny the gods of Rome, I know,' replied Macer, 'and who would not, who had come to years of discretion? who had so much as left his nurse's lap? A fouler brotherhood than they the lords of Heaven, Rome does not contain. Am I to be called upon to worship a set of wretches chargeable with all the crimes and vices to be found on earth? It is this accursed idolatry, O Romans, that has sunk you so low in sin! They are your lewd, and drunken, and savage deities, who have taught you all your refinement in wickedness; andnever, till you renounce them, never till you repent you of your iniquities—never till you turn and worship the true God will you rise out of the black Tartarean slough in which you are lying. These two hundred years and more has God called to you by his Son, and you have turned away your ears; you have hardened your hearts; the prophets who have come to you in his name have you slain by the sword or hung upon the accursed tree. Awake out of your slumbers! These are the last days. God will not forbear forever. The days of vengeance will come; they are now at hand: I can hear the rushing of that red right arm hot with wrath—'
'Away with him! away with him!' broke from an hundred voices!—'Down with the blasphemer!'—'Who is he to speak thus of the gods of Rome?'—'Seize the impious Gallilean, and away with him to the prefect'—These, and a thousand exclamations of the same kind, and more savage, were heard on every side; and, at the same moment, their denial and counter-exclamations, from as many more.
'He has spoken the truth!'—'He is a brave fellow!' 'He shall not be touched except we fall first!'—came from a resolute band who encompassed the preacher, and seemed resolved to make good their words by defending him against whatever assault might be made. Macer, himself a host in such an affray, neither spoke nor moved, standing upright and still as a statue; but any one might see the soldier in his kindling eye, and that a slight cause would bring him upon the assailants with a fury that would deal out wounds and death. He had told them that the old Legionary was not quite dead within him, and sometimes usurped the place of theChristian; this they seemed to remember, and after showering upon him vituperation and abuse in every form, one after another they withdrew and left him with those who had gathered immediately around him. These too soon took their leave of him, and Macer, unimpeded and alone, turned towards his home.
When I related to Probus afterwards what I had heard and witnessed, he said that I was fortunate in hearing what was so much more sober and calm than that which usually fell from him; that generally he devoted himself to an exposition of the absurdities of the heathen worship, and the abominations of the mysteries, and the vices of the priesthood; and he rarely ended without filling with rage a great proportion of those who heard him. Many a time had he been assaulted; and hardly had escaped with his life. You will easily perceive, Fausta, how serious an injury is inflicted upon us by rash and violent declaimers like Macer. There are others like him; he is by no means alone, though he is far the most conspicuous. Together they help to kindle the flame of active hostility, and infuse fresh bitterness into the Pagan heart. Should the Emperor carry into effect the purposes now ascribed to him, these men will be sure victims, and the first.
Upon my return after hearing Macer, I found Livia seated with Julia, to whom she often comes thus, and then together—I often accompanying—we visit Tibur. She had but just arrived. It was easy to see that the light-heartedness, which so manifested itself always in the beaming countenance and the elastic step, was gone; the usual signs of it at least were not visible.Her whole expression was serious and anxious; and upon her face were the traces of recent grief. For a long time, after the first salutations and inquiries were through, neither spoke. At length Livia said,
'I am come now, Julia, to escape from what has become of late little other than a prison. The Fabrician dungeons are not more gloomy than the gardens of Sallust are now. No more gaiety; no feasting by day and carousal by night; the gardens never illuminated; no dancing nor music. It is a new life for me: and then the only creatures to be seen, that hideous Fronto and the smiling Varus; men very well in their place, but no inmates of palaces.'
'Well' said Julia; 'there is the greater reason why we should see more of each other and of Zenobia. Aurelian is the same?'
'The same? There is the same form, and the same face, and the same voice; but the form is motionless, save when at the Hippodrome,—the face black as Styx, and his voice rougher than the raven's. That agreeable humor and sportiveness, which seemed native to him, though by reason of his thousand cares not often seen, is now wholly gone. He is observant as ever of all the forms of courtesy, and I am to him what I have ever been; but a dark cloud has settled over him and all the house, and I would willingly escape if I could. And worse than all, is this of Aurelia! Alas, poor girl!'
'And what, Livia, is the truth?' said Julia; 'the city is filled with rumors, but they are so at variance one with another, no one knows which to believe, or whether none.'
'I hardly know myself,' replied Livia. 'All I knowwith certainty is, that I have lost my only companion—or the only one I cared for—and that Aurelian merely says she has been sent to the prisons at the Fabrician bridge. I cannot tell you of our parting. Aurelia was sure something terrible was designed against her, from the sharpness and violence of her uncle's language, and she left me as if she were never to see me again. But I would believe no such thing, and so I told her, and tried to give to her some of the courage and cheerfulness which I pretended to have myself: but it was to no purpose. She departed weeping as if her heart were broken. I love her greatly, notwithstanding her usual air of melancholy and her preference of solitude, and I have found in her, as you know, my best friend and companion. Yet I confess there is that in her which I never understood, and do not now understand. I hope she will comply with the wishes of Aurelian, and that I shall soon see her again. The difficulty is all owing to this new religion. I wish, Julia, there were no such thing. It seems to me to do nothing but sow discord and violence.'
'That, dear Livia,' said Julia, 'is not a very wise wish; especially seeing you know, as you will yourself confess, so little about it.'
'But,' quickly added Livia, 'was it not better as it was at Palmyra? who heard then of these bitter hostilities? who were there troubled about their worship? One hardly knew there was such a thing as a Christian. When Paul was at the palace, it was still all the same only, if anything, a little more agreeable. But here, no one at the gardens speaks of Christians but with an assassin air that frightens one. There must surely be more evil in them than I ever dreamed of.'
'The evil, Livia,' answered her sister, 'comes not from the Christians nor Christianity, but from those who oppose them. There were always Christians in Palmyra, and, as you say, even in the palace, yet there was always peace and good-will too. If Christianity were in itself an element of discord and division, why were no such effects seen there? The truth is, Livia, the division and discord are created, not by the new religion, but by those who resist it, and will not suffer people to act and think as they please about it. Under Zenobia, all had liberty to believe as they would. And there was under her the reign of universal peace and good-will. Here, on the other hand, it has been the practice of the state to interfere, and say what the citizens shall believe and whom they shall worship, and what and whom they shall not. How should it be otherwise than that troubles should spring up, under legislation so absurd and so wicked? Would it not be a certain way to introduce confusion, if the state—or Aurelian—should prescribe our food and drink? or our dress? And if confusion did arise, and bitter opposition, you could not justly say it was owing to the existence of certain kinds of food, or of clothes which people fancied, but to their being interfered with. Let them alone, and they will please themselves and be at peace.'
'Yes,' said Livia, 'that may be. But the common people are in no way fit judges in such things, and it seems to me if either party must give way, it were better the people did. The government has the power and they will use it.'
'In so indifferent a matter as food or dress,' rejoinedthe sister, 'if a government were so foolish as to make prohibitory and whimsical laws, it were better to yield than contend. But in an affair so different from that as one's religion, one could not act in the same way. I may dress in one kind of stuff as well as another; it is quite a possible thing: but is it not plainly impossible, if I think one kind of stuff is of an exquisite fineness and color, for me to believe and say at the same time, that its texture is coarse and its hue dull? The mind cannot believe according to any other laws than those of its own constitution. Is it not then the height of wickedness to set out to make people believe and act one way in religion? The history of the world has shown that, in spite of men's wickedness, there is nothing on earth they value as they do their religion. They will die rather than change or renounce it. Men are the same now. To require that any portion of the people shall renounce their religion is to require them to part with that which they value most—more than life itself—and is it not in effect pronouncing against them a sentence of destruction? Some indeed will relinquish it rather than die; and some will play the hypocrite for a season, intending to return to a profession of it in more peaceful times: but most, and the best, will die before they will disown their faith.'
'Then if that is so,' said Livia, 'and I confess what you say cannot be denied, I would that Aurelian could be prevailed upon to recede from a position which he appears to be taking. His whole nature now seems to have been set on fire by this priest Fronto. Superstition has wholly seized and possessed him. His belief is that Rome can never be secure and great till the enemies of the gods, as well as of the state, shall perish; and pushed on by Fronto, so far as can be gathered from their discourse, is now bent on their injury or destruction. I wish he could be changed back again to what he was before this notion seized him. Piso, have you seen him? Have you of late conversed with him?'
'Only, Livia, briefly; and on this topic only at intervals of other talk; for he avoids it, at least with me. But from what we all know of Aurelian, it is not one's opinion nor another's that can alter his will when once bent one way.'
'How little did I once deem,' said Livia, 'when I used to wish so for greatness and empire, that they could be so darkened over. I thought that to be great was necessarily to be happy. But I was but a child then.'
'How long since was that?' asked Julia, smiling.
'Ah! you would say I am little better than that now.'
'You are young yet, Livia, for much wisdom to have come; and you must not wonder if it come slowly, for you are unfortunately placed to gain it. An idol on its pedestal can rarely have but two thoughts—that it is an idol, and that it is to be worshipped. The entrance of all other wisdom is quite shut out.'
'How pleasant a thing it is, Piso, to have an elder sister as wise as Julia! But come, will you to Tibur? I must have Faustula, now I have lost Aurelia.'
'O no, Livia,' said Julia; 'take her not away from Zenobia. She can ill spare her.'
'But there is Vabalathus.'
'Yes, but he is now little there. He is moreover preparing for his voyage. Faustula is her all.'
'Ah, then it cannot be! Yes, it were very wrong. But, this being so, I see not then but I must go to her,or come live with you. Only think of one's trying to escape from the crown of Rome? I can hardly believe I am Livia; once never to be satisfied with power and greatness—now tired of them! No, not that exactly—'
'You are tired, only, Livia, of some little attendant troubles; you like not that overhanging cloud you just spoke of; but for the empire itself, you love that none the less. To believe that, it is enough to see you.'
'I suppose you are right. Julia is always right, Piso.'
So our talk ran on; sometimes into graver and then into lighter themes—often stopping and lingering long over you, and Calpurnius, and Gracchus. You wished to know more of Livia and her thoughts, and I have given her to you in just the mood in which she happened to be.
The wife of Macer has just been here, seeking from Julia both assistance and comfort. She implores us to do what we may to calm and sober her husband.
'As the prospect of danger increases,' she said to Julia, 'he grows but the more impetuous and ungovernable. He is abroad all the day and every day, preaching all over Rome, and brings home nothing for the support of the family; and if it were not for the Emperor's bounty, we should starve.'
'And does that support you?'
'O no, lady! it hardly gives us food enough to subsist upon. Then we have besides to pay for our lodging and our clothes. But I should mind not at all our labor nor our poverty, did I not hear from so many that my husband is so wild and violent in his preaching, and when he disputes with the gentiles, as he will call them.I am sure it is a good cause to suffer in, if one must suffer; but if our dear Macer would only work half the time, there would be no occasion to suffer, which we should now were it not for Demetrius the jeweler—who lives hard by, and who I am sure has been very kind to us—and our good Ælia.'
'You do not then,' I asked, 'blame your religion nor weary of it?'
'O, sir, surely not. It is our greatest comfort. We all look out with expectation of our greatest pleasure, when Macer returns home, after his day's labors,—and labors they surely are, and will destroy him, unless he is persuaded to leave them off. For when he is at home the children all come round him, and he teaches them in his way what religion is. Sometimes it is a long story he gives them of his life, when he was a little boy and knew nothing about Christ, and what wicked things he did, and sometimes about his serving as a soldier under the Emperor. But he never ends without showing them what Christ's religion tells them to think of such ways of life. And then, sir, before we go to bed he reads to us from the gospels—which he bought when he was in the army, and was richer than he is now—and prays for us all, for the city, and the Emperor, and the gentiles. So that we want almost nothing, as I may say, to make us quite contented and happy.'
'Have you ever been disturbed in your dwelling on Macer's account?'
'O yes, sir, and we are always fearing it. This is our great trouble. Once the house was attacked by the people of the street, and almost torn down—and we escaped, I and the children, through a back way into theshop of the good Demetrius. There we were safe; and while we were gone our little cabin was entered, and everything in it broken in pieces. Macer was not at home, or I think he would have been killed.
'Did you apply to the prefect?'
'No, sir, I do not believe there would be much use in that: they say he hates the Christians so.'
'But he is bound to preserve order in the city.'
'Yes, sir; but for a great man like him it's easy to see only one way, and to move so slowly that it does no good. That is what our people say of him. When the Christians are in trouble he never comes, if he comes at all, till it is too late to do them any service. The best way for us is, I think, to live quietly, and not needlessly provoke the gentiles, nor believe that we can make Christians of them all in a day. That is my husband's dream. He thinks that he must deliver his message to people, whether they will or not, and it almost seems as if the more hostile they were, the more he made it his duty to preach to them, which certainly was not the way in which Christ did, as he reads his history to us. It was just the other way. It almost makes me believe that some demon has entered into him, he is so different from what he was, and abroad from what he is at home. Do you think that likely, sir? I have been at times inclined to apply to Felix to see if he could not exorcise him.'
'No, I do not think so certainly; but many may. I believe he errs in his notion of the way in which to do good; but under some circumstances it is so hard to tell which the best way is, that we must judge charitably of one another. Some would say that Macer is right; others that the course of Probus is wisest; andothers, that of Felix. We must do as we think right, and leave the issue to God.'
'But you will come and see us? We dwell near the ruins, and behind the shop of Demetrius. Every body knows Demetrius.'
I assured her I would go.
I almost wish, Fausta, that Julia was with you. All classes seem alike exposed to danger. But I suppose it would be in vain to propose such a step to her, especially after what she said to Isaac. You now, after your storm, live at length in calm: not exactly in sunshine; for you would say the sun never can seem to shine that falls upon the ruins of Palmyra. But calm and peace you certainly have, and they are much. I wish Julia could enjoy them with you. For here, every hour, so it now seems to me, the prospect darkens, and it will be enough for one of us to remain to encounter the evil, whatever it may be, and defend the faith we have espoused. This is an office more appropriate to man than to woman; though emergencies may arise, as they have, when woman herself must forget her tenderness and put on soldiers' panoply; and when it has come, never has she been found wanting. Her promptness to believe that which is good and pure, has been equalled by her fortitude and patience in suffering for it.
You will soon see Vabalathus. He will visit you before he enters upon his great office. By him I shall write to you soon again. Farewell.