Zenobia; or, the Fall of Palmyra by William Ware (latest ebook reader TXT) 📖

This might be so, if it were of the nature of religion to operate with an irresistible influence upon the mind, producing an involuntary and forced obedience. But in such an obedience there would be nothing like what we mean by virtue, but something quite inferior in the comparison. A religion, for the reason that it is divine, will, with the more certainty, make its appeals to a free nature. It will explain the nature and reveal the consequences of virtue and vice, but will leave the mind free to choose the one or the other. Christianity teaches, that in goodness, and faithfulness to the sense of duty, lies the chief good; in these there is a heaven of reward, not only now and on earth, but throughout an existence truly immortal. Is it not most evident that, with whatever authority this religion may propound its doctrines, men not being in a single power coerced, will not, though they may receive them, yield to them an equal observance? Hence, even among Christians, there must foe, perhaps ever, much imperfection.'

'Does not this appear to you, Fausta and Piso,' said Julia, as the old man paused, 'just and reasonable? Can it be an objection to this faith, that its disciples partake of the common weaknesses of humanity? Otherwise, religion would be a principle designed, not so much to improve and exalt our nature, as to alter it.

'We allow it readily to be both just and reasonable.'

'But it seemed to us,' said Fausta, 'as we ascended the mountain, and were conversing, to be with certainty a proof of imperfection in your religion--pardon my freedom, we are come as learners, and they who would learn, must, without restraint, express their doubts--that it recommended or permitted a recluse and inactive life. Have your days, Father, been passed in this deep solitude? and has your religion demanded it?'

'Your freedom pleases me,' replied the venerable man; 'and I wonder not at the question you propose. Not my religion, lady, but an enfeebled and decrepit frame chains me to this solitude. I have now outlasted a century, and my powers are wasted and gone. I can do little more than sit and ponder the truths of this life-giving book, and anticipate the renewed activity of that immortal being which it promises. The Christian converts, who dwell beneath those roofs which you see gleaming in the valley below, supply the few wants which I have. When their labor is done for the day, they sometimes come up, bringing with them baskets of fresh or dried fruits, which serve me, together with the few roots and berries which I myself can gather as I walk this level space, for my food. My thirst I quench at the brook which you have just passed. Upon this simple but wholesome nutriment, and breathing this dry mountain air, my days may yet be prolonged through many years. But I do not covet them, since nature makes me a prisoner. But I submit, because my faith teaches me to receive patiently whatever the Supreme Ruler appoints. It is not my religion that prescribes this manner of life, or permits it, but as the last refuge of an imbecility like mine. Christianity denounces selfishness, in all its forms, and what form of selfishness more gross than to spend the best of one's days in solitary musing and prayer, all to secure one's own salvation? The founder of this religion led an active and laborious life. He did good not only to himself by prayer and meditation: he went about doing it to others--seeking out objects whom he might benefit and bless. His life was one of active benevolence; and the record of that life is the religious code of his followers. No condemnation could be more severe than that which the Prophet of Nazareth would pronounce upon such a life as mine now is, were it a chosen, voluntary one. But it never has been voluntary. Till age dried up the sources of my strength, I toiled night and day in all countries and climates, in the face of every danger, in the service of mankind. For it is by serving others, that the law of Christ is fulfilled. Disinterested labor for others constituted the greatness of Jesus Christ. This constitutes true greatness in his followers. I perceive that what I say falls upon your ear as a new and strange doctrine. But it is the doctrine of christianity. It utterly condemns, therefore, a life of solitary devotion. It is a mischievous influence which is now spreading outward from the example of that Paul, who suffered so much under the persecution of the Emperor Decius and who then, flying to the solitudes of the Egyptian Thebais, has there, in the vigor of his days, buried himself in a cave of the earth, that he may serve God by forsaking man. His maxim seems to be, "The farther from man, the nearer to God"---the reverse of the Christian maxim, "The nearer man, the nearer God." A disciple of Jesus has truly said: "He who loves not his brother whom he hath seen, how shall he love God, whom he hath not seen?" This, it may be, Roman, is the first sentence you have ever heard from the Christian books.'

'I am obliged to confess that it is,' I replied. 'I have heretofore lived in an easy indifference toward all religions. The popular religion of my country I early learned to despise. I have perused the philosophers, and examined their systems, from Pythagoras to Seneca, and am now, what I have long been, a disciple of none but Pyrrho. My researches have taught me only how the more ingeniously to doubt. Wearied at length with a vain inquiry after truth that should satisfy and fill me, I suddenly abandoned the pursuit, with the resolve never to resume it. I was not even tempted to depart from this resolution when Christianity offered itself to my notice; for I confounded it with Judaism, and for that, as a Roman, I entertained too profound a contempt to bestow upon it a single thought. I must acknowledge that the reports which I heard, and which I sometimes read, of the marvellous constancy and serenity of the Christians, under accumulated sufferings and wrongs, interested my feelings in their behalf; and the thought often arose, "Must there not be truth to support such heroism?" But the world went on its way, and I with it, and the Christians were forgotten. To a Christian, on my voyage across the Mediterranean, I owe much, for my first knowledge of Christianity. To the Princess Julia I owe a larger debt still. And now from your lips, long accustomed to declare its truths, I have heard what makes me truly desirous to hear the whole of that which, in the glimpses I have been able to obtain, has afforded so real a satisfaction,'

'Were you to study the Christian books,' said the recluse, 'you would be chiefly struck perhaps with the plainness and simplicity of the doctrines there unfolded. You would say that much which you found there, relating to the right conduct of life, you had already found scattered through the books of the Greek and Roman moralists. You would be startled by no strange or appalling truth. You would turn over their leaves in vain in search of such dark and puzzling ingenuities as try the wits of those who resort to the pages of the Timæus. A child can understand the essential truths of Christ. And the value of Christianity consists not in this, that it puts forth a new, ingenious, and intricate system of philosophy, but that it adds to recognised and familiar truths divine authority. Some things are indeed new; and much is new, if that may be called so which, having been neglected as insignificant by other teachers, has by Christ been singled out and announced as primal and essential. But the peculiarity of Christianity lies in this, that its voice, whether heard in republishing an old and familiar doctrine, or announcing, a new one, is not the voice of man, but of God. It is a revelation. It is a word from the invisible, unapproachable Spirit of the universe. For this Socrates would have been willing to renounce all his wisdom. Is it not this which we need? We can theorize and conjecture without end, but cannot relieve ourselves of our doubts. They will assail every work of man. We wish to repose in a divine assurance. This we have in Christianity. It is a message from God. It puts an end to doubt and conjecture. Wise men of all ages have agreed in the belief of One God; but not being able to demonstrate his being and his unity, they have had no power to change the popular belief, which has ever tended to polytheism and idolatry, Christianity teaches this truth with the authority of God himself, and already has it become the faith of millions. Philosophers have long ago taught that the only safe and happy life is a virtuous life. Christianity repeats this great truth, and adds, that it is such a life alone that conducts to immortality. Philosophers have themselves believed in the doctrine of a future existence, and have died hoping to live again; and it cannot be denied that mankind generally have entertained an obscure expectation of a renewed being after death. The advantage of Christianity consists in this, that it assures us of the reality of a future life, on the word and authority of God himself. Jesus Christ taught, that all men come forth from death, wearing a new spiritual body, and thereafter never die; and to confirm his teaching, he himself being slain, rose from the dead, and showed himself to his followers alive, and while they were yet looking upon him, ascended to some other and higher world. Surely, Roman, though christianity announced nothing more than these great truths, yet seeing it puts them forth in the name, and with the authority of God, it is a vast accession to our knowledge.'

'Indeed it cannot be denied,' I answered. 'It would be a great happiness too to feel such an assurance, as he must who believes in your religion, of another life. Death would then lose every terror. We could approach the close of life as calmly and cheerfully, sometimes as gladly, as we now do the close of a day of weary travel or toil. It would be but to lie down and rest, and sleep, and rise again refreshed by the slumber for the labors and enjoyments of a life which should then be without termination, and yet unattended by fatigue. I can think of no greater felicity than to be able to perceive the truth of such a religion as yours.'

'This religion of the Christians,' said Fausta, 'seems to be full of reasonable and desirable truth--if it all be truth. But how is this great point to be determined? How are we to know whether the founder of this religion was in truth a person holding communication with God? The mind will necessarily demand a large amount of evidence, before it can believe so extraordinary a thing. I greatly fear, Julia, lest I may never be a Christian. What is the evidence, Father, with which you trust, to convince the mind of an inquirer? It must possess potency, for all the world seems flocking to the standard of Christ.'

'I think, indeed,' replied the saint, 'that it possesses potency. I believe its power to be irresistible. But do you ask in sincerity, daughter of Gracchus, what to do in order to believe in christianity?'

'I do, indeed,' answered Fausta. 'But know that my mind is one not easy of belief.'

'Christianity, lady, asks no forced or faint assent. It appeals to human reason, and it blames not the conscientious doubter or denier. When it requires you to examine, and constitutes you judge, it condemns no honest decision. The mind that approaches christianity must be free, and ought to be fearless. Hesitate not to reject that which evidence does not substantiate. But examine and weigh well the testimony. If then you would know whether christianity be true, it is first of all needful that you read and ponder the Christian books. These books prove themselves. The religion of Christ is felt to be true, as you read the writings in which it is recorded. Just as the works of nature prove to the contemplative mind the being of a God, so do the books of the Christians prove the truth of their religion. As you read them, as your mind embraces the teaching, and above all, the character of Christ, you involuntarily exclaim: "This must be true; the sun in the heavens does not more clearly point to a divine author, than do the contents of these books." You find them utterly unlike any other books--differing from