Aurelian; or, Rome in the Third Century
'I can hardly suppose that it will,' said Probus. 'Labor and suffering,
in some of their forms, seem both essential. 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 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 man. In a
smooth and even lot our worth never would be known, and we could respect
neither ourselves nor 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
exacted, 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 thanked for this danger, for that the church needs it! 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 honorable. 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,
will not do so, 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 pitying 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 its truth. There have been those who have died
and 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; whose
only promise is immortality--and 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 do; 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 behalf of it, that appeals to the reason almost or quite
with the force of demonstration. So, I remember well, my reason was
impressed by what I used to hear from Paul of the sufferings of the
early 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, at present, 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 for us, and their concern. Some of this number are
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 have a right to the name of man. It was
chiefly that 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,' cried one, 'what he whose hand bears the sword of a
true soldier can do, and whether Aurelian, 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