CHAPTER I.

I. 1. The injustice of condemning the Christian Religion unheard and unknown.

IF it be not permitted you, provincial governors of the Roman Empire, presiding for the administration of justice in your open and appointed court almost at the very head of the state, to publicly investigate and openly examine what are the clear facts in the case of the Christians;—if your authority either fears or is ashamed to enquire in public concerning the clue exercise of justice in respect of this kind of offence alone;—if, in fine, hostility to this sect, carried to extremes (as was recently the case) in judgements passed upon members of your own households, bars the way to its defence;—let the truth reach your ears at all events by the secret agency of a silent writing.

Christianity pleads no excuse for her cause, for neither does she marvel at her present position. She knows that she is a sojourner upon the earth, that amongst strangers she readily finds enemies, but that her nativity, her home, her hope, her favour, her dignity are in Heaven. One boon meantime she craves, that she be not condemned unknown. What [2] is there in this request derogatory to the laws, supreme in their own sphere, if she be heard? Will not their power rather be extolled hereby, that they will condemn the truth even after she has been heard? Whereas if men condemn her unheard, besides the odium of an injustice done, they will be suspected, and justly, of not being altogether unconscious that they are refusing to hear that which, if they heard, they could not condemn.

This, then, is the first point we bring before you, —the injustice of your hatred of the Christian name. And the very pretext which seems to excuse this injustice, namely ignorance, both aggravates and clenches it. For what ran be more unjust than for men to hate that of which they are ignorant, even supposing it to deserve their hatred? For then only does it deserve hatred when it is ascertained whether it deserve it. But if a knowledge of the deserts be wanting, how is the justice of the hatred defended, which ought to be proved not from the mere existence of the hatred but from cognizance of the case? When, however, men hate because they are ignorant of the nature of the object of their hatred, what is there to prevent it really being of a nature such as they ought not to hate?

Thus in both ways we prove them wrong; namely, that they are ignorant in their hatred, and that in their ignorance they hate unjustly. A proof of their ignorance, which while it excuses their injustice, also condemns it, is found in the fact that all, who formerly hated because they were ignorant of the [3] nature of what they hated, at once cease to hate as soon as they cease to be ignorant. From being such, they become Christians, particularly when they have gained full knowledge; and they begin to hate what they had been, and to profess what they had hated; and our numbers are as great as we are computed to be. The cry is that the state is beset, that the Christians are in the rural districts, in the villages, and in the islands; it is deplored as a public calamity that persons of both sexes, of every age, of every class, even people of high rank, are going over to this name ⁵.

And yet not even from this very fact do men mentally advance to an appreciation of some possible good latent in our religion; they do not allow themselves a more consistent surmise; they do not welcome a closer investigation. Respecting this subject alone the natural curiosity of men lies dormant: they love to remain ignorant, while others rejoice to have learnt. How much more might Anarcharsis have stigmatized these men,—the inexperienced passing judgement on the experienced,—than the unmusical criticizing the musical! They prefer to remain ignorant, because they already hate; and by this preference they prejudge that of which they are ignorant to be such as, if known, would preclude their hatred; since if no just ground for hatred be found, the right course would obviously be to cease hating so unjustly; whereas if the justice of their hatred were to be established, not only would the hatred lose none of [4] its force, but it would actually gain a reason for its continuance from the sanction of justice itself.

'But,' it may be said, 'a thing is not therefore good because it attracts the many. What numbers are previously disposed to evil! How many desert to the side of error!' Who denies it? Nevertheless that which is truly evil, not even do those whom it sweeps along dare to defend as being good. There is a sense of shrinking or shame instinctively attached to all evil. Lastly, evil-doers crave concealment, they shun publicity, they quake when detected, they deny when accused, not even when put to the rack do they readily or invariably confess. They are undoubtedly disconsolate when condemned; in their consciences they recount their deeds, but impute to fate or the stars the promptings of an evil mind; for they refuse to acknowledge as their own what they recognize as evil. But with Christians the case is totally different. No one is ashamed; no one feels regret, except indeed that he did not become a Christian sooner. If he is censured, he glories in it; if accused, he pleads no defence; if interrogated, he even voluntarily confesses; if condemned, he gives thanks. What kind of evil, then, is this, which lacks the essential characteristics of evil,— fear, shame, prevarication, regret, sorrow? What kind of evil is this of which the criminal is proud, to be accused of which is his prayer, and to be punished for it his happiness? You cannot call this madness,—you, whose ignorance of the subject is clearly proved. [5]