Zenobia | Page 6

your faith as
a dark and mischievous superstition. I have, indeed, been struck with
the circumstance, that while the Jews make no converts from among us,
great numbers are reported to have joined the Christians; and of those,
not a few of the higher orders. The late Emperor Philip, I think it clear,
was a Christian. This might have taught me that there is a wide

difference between the Christian and the Jew. But the general hatred
toward both the one and the other, together with the persecutions to
which they have been exposed, have made me more than indifferent to
their merits,'
'I trust the time will come,' replied the Christian, 'when our cause will
be examined on the ground of its merits. Why may we not believe that
it has now come? The Roman world is at peace. A strong and generous
prince is upon the throne. Mild and just laws restrain the furious
bigotry of an ignorant and sanguinary priesthood. Men of intelligence
and virtue adorn our profession, from whom those who are anxious to
know the truth can hear it; and copies of our sacred books both in
Greek and Latin abound, whence may easily be learned the true
principles of our faith, and the light of whose holy pages would
instantly dispel the darkness by which the minds of many, even of the
virtuous and well-disposed, are oppressed. It is hardly likely that a fitter
opportunity will soon offer for an examination of the claims of
Christianity. We have nothing to dread but the deadness and
indifference of the public mind. It is not credible that polytheism
should stand a day upon any fair comparison of it with the religion of
Christ. You yourself are not a believer (pardon my boldness) in the
ineffable stupidities of the common religion. To suppose you were--I
see by the expression of your countenance--would be the unpardonable
offence. I sincerely believe, that nothing more is wanting to change you,
and every intelligent Roman, from professed supporters of the common
religion, (but real infidels,) into warm believers and advocates of the
doctrine of Christ--but simply this--to read his sayings, and the
delineation of his character, as they have been written down by some of
his followers. You are, I see, incredulous, but not more so than I was
myself only a year ago; yet you behold me a Christian. I had to contend
against, perhaps, far more adverse influences than would oppose you.
You start with surprise that I should give evidence that I know you; but
I have many a time seen you at the shop of Publius, and have heard you
in your addresses to the people.
'I am the son of a priest of the Temple of Jupiter--of a man, who, to a
mildness and gentleness of soul that would do honor to the Christian,

added a faith in the religion of his fathers, deep-struck and firm-rooted
as the rocks of ocean. I was his assistant in the duties of his office. My
childish faith was all he could wish it; I reverenced a religion which
had nurtured virtues like his. In process of time, I became myself a
father. Four children, more beautiful than ever visited the dreams of
Phidias, made my dwelling a portion of Elysium, as I then thought.
Their mother--but why should I speak of her? It is enough to say, she
was a Roman mother. At home, it was my supreme happiness to sport
with my little ones, or initiate them into the elements of useful
knowledge. And often, when at the temple preparing for the days of
ceremony, my children were with me; and my labors were nothing,
cheered by the music of their feet running upon the marble pavements,
and of their merry voices echoing among the columns and arches of the
vast interior. O days thrice happy! They were too happy to last. Within
the space of one year--one cruel year--these four living idols were
ravished from my arms by a prevailing disease. My wife,
broken-hearted, soon followed them, and I was left alone. I need not
describe my grief: I will only say, that with bitter imprecations I cursed
the gods. 'Who are ye,' I cried, 'who sit above in your secure seats, and
make your sport of human wo? Ye are less than men. Man though I am,
I would not inflict upon the meanest slave the misery ye have poured
upon my defenceless head. Where are your mercies?' I was frantic.
How long this lasted I cannot tell, for I took no note of time. I was
awakened, may I not say saved, by a kind neighbor whom I had long
known to be a Christian. He was a witness of my sufferings, and with
deep compassion ministered