Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
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 uncharitable denunciations, by false and
exaggerated statements, the causes of tumult and disorder, and
contribute greatly to increase the general exasperation against us. With
them it seems to be a maxim, that all means are lawful in a good cause.
Nay, they seem rather to prefer the ruder and rougher forms of attack.
They seem possessed of the idea that the world is to be converted in a
day, and that if men will not at once relinquish the prejudices or the
faith of years, they are fit but for cursings and burnings. In setting
forth the mildest doctrine the world ever knew, delivered to mankind by
the gentlest, 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 down on the pavement.
It moved quickly in the direction of the tribunal of Varus, and, what
was my surprise, to behold Macer, in the midst, with head aloft, and
inflamed countenance, holding in his grasp, and dragging onwards, one,
who would willingly have escaped. The crowd seemed disposed, as I judged
by the vituperations that were directed against Macer, to interfere, but
were apparently deterred by both the gigantic form of Macer and their
vicinity to the tribunal, whither he was going. Waiting till they were
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 eyes flashing lightning, and
his voice not less than thunder; but he was again interrupted.
'Peace, slave! or rods shall teach thee where thou art.' And at the same
moment, at a sign from Varus, he was laid hold of with violence by
officials of the place armed with spears and rods, and held.
'What I wish to know then,' said Varus, turning to the crowd, 'is,
whether this is not the street brawler, one of the impious Gallileans, a
man who should long ago have been set in the stocks to find leisure for
better thoughts?'
Several testified, as was desired, that this was he.
'This is all I wish to know,' said the prefect. 'The man is either
without wits, or they are disordered, or else the pestilent faith he
teaches has made the nuisance of him he is, as it does of all who meddle
with it. It is scarcely right that he should be abroad. Yet has he
committed no offence that condemns him either to scourging or the
prison. Hearken therefore, fellow! I now dismiss thee without the
scourging thou well deservest; but, if thou keep on thy wild and lawless
way, racks and dungeons shall teach thee what there is in Roman justice.
Away with him!'
'Romans! Roman citizens!' cried Macer; 'are these your laws and this
your judge?--'
'Away with him, I say!' cried the prefect; and the officers of the
palace hurried him out of the hall.
As he went, a voice from the crowd shouted,
'Roman citizens, Macer, are long since dead. '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,