St. Anastasia was thrown into prison
as a mediciner; the populace called out against St. Agnes, "Away with
the witch," _Tolle magam, tolle maleficam_. When St. Bonosus and St.
Maximilian bore the burning pitch without shrinking, Jews and Gentiles
cried out, "_Isti magi et malefici_." "What new delusion," says the
heathen magistrate concerning St. Romanus, "has brought in these
sophists to deny the worship of the gods? How doth this chief sorcerer
mock us, skilled by his Thessalian charm (_carmine_) to laugh at
punishment!"

It explains the phenomenon, which has created so much surprise to
certain moderns--that a grave, well-informed historian like Tacitus
should apply to Christians what sounds like abuse. Yet what is the
difficulty, supposing that Christians were considered _mathematici_ and
_magi_, and these were the secret intriguers against established
government, the allies of desperate politicians, the enemies of the
established religion, the disseminators of lying rumors, the
perpetrators of poisonings and other crimes? "Read this," says Paley,
after quoting some of the most beautiful and subduing passages of St.
Paul, "read this, and then think of _exitiabilis superstitio_"; and he
goes on to express a wish "in contending with heathen authorities, to
produce our books against theirs," as if it were a matter of books.

Public men care very little for books; the finest sentiments, the most
luminous philosophy, the deepest theology, inspiration itself, moves
them but little; they look at facts, and care only for facts. The
question was, What was the worth, what the tendency of the Christian
body in the State? What Christians said, what they thought, was little
to the purpose. They might exhort to peaceableness and passive obedience
as strongly as words could speak; but what did they _do_, what was their
political position? This is what statesmen thought of then, as they do
now. What had men of the world to do with abstract proofs or first
principles? A statesman measures parties and sects and writers by their
bearing upon _him_; and he has a practised eye in this sort of judgment,
and is not likely to be mistaken. "'What is Truth?' said jesting
Pilate." Apologies, however eloquent or true, availed nothing with the
Roman magistrate against the sure instinct which taught him to dread
Christianity. It was a dangerous enemy to any power not built upon
itself; he felt it, and the event justified his apprehension.

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