Zenobia; or, the Fall of Palmyra

by William Ware

'I do not think Christianity prescribes this mode of life, though. I do not know but it may permit it,' replied the princess. 'But of this, the Hermit will inform us. He may have chosen this retreat on account of his extreme age, which permits him no longer to engage in the affairs of an active life.'

'I trust for the sake of Christianity it is so,' added Fausta; 'for I cannot conceive of a true religion inculcating, or even permitting inactivity. What would become of the world, if it could be proved that the gods required us to pass our days in retired contemplation?'

'Yet it cannot be denied,' said Julia, 'that the greatest benefactors of mankind have been those who have in solitude, and with patient labor, pursued truth till they have discovered it, and then revealed it to shed its light and heat upon the world.'

'For my part,' replied Fausta, 'I must think that they who have sowed and reaped, have been equal benefactors. The essential truths are instinctive and universal. As for the philosophers, they have, with few exceptions, been occupied as much about mere frivolities as any Palmyrene lady at her toilet. Still, I do not deny that the contemplative race is a useful one in its way. What I say is, that a religion which enjoined a solitary life as a duty, would be a very mischievous religion. And what is more, any such precept, fairly proved upon it, would annihilate all its claims to a divine origin. For certainly, if it were made a religious duty for one man to turn an idle, contemplative hermit, it would be equally the duty of every other, and then the arts of life by which we subsist would be forsaken. Any of the prevalent superstitions, if we may not call them religions, were better than this.'

'I agree with you entirely,' said Julia; 'but my acquaintance with the Christian writings is not such as to enable me to say with confidence that they contain no such permission or injunction. Indeed some of them I have not even read, and much I do not fully understand. But as I have seen and read enough to believe firmly that Christianity is a divine religion, my reason teaches me that it contains no precept such as we speak of.'

We had now, in the course of our walk, reached what we found to be a broad and level ledge, about half way to the summit of the hill. It was a spot remarkable for a sort of dark and solemn beauty, being set with huge branching trees, whose tops were woven into a roof, through which only here and there the rays of the fierce sun could find their way. The turf beneath, unincumbered with any smaller growth of tree or shrub, was sprinkled with flowers that love the shade. The upper limit of this level space was bounded by precipitous rocks, up which ascent seemed difficult or impossible, and the lower by similar ones, to descend which seemed equally difficult or impossible.

'If the abode of the Christian is hereabouts,' we said, 'it seems well chosen both for its security and the exceeding beauty of the various objects which greet the eye.'

'Soon as we shall have passed that tumbling rivulet,' said Julia, 'it will come into view.'

Upon a rude bridge of fallen trunks of trees, we passed the stream as it crossed our path, and which then shooting over the edge of the precipice, was lost among the rocks and woods below. A cloud of light spray fell upon us as we stood upon the bridge, and imparted a most refreshing coolness.

'Where you see,' said Julia, 'that dark entrance, beneath yonder low-browed rock, is the dwelling of the aged Christian.'