ness also took his
confession. He died, begging forgiveness of all whom he had injured, and
giving large alms to the poor. This was about the year 236, in the midst
of that long peace of the Church, which was broken at length by the Decian
persecution.

This peace of well-nigh fifty years had necessarily a peculiar, and not a
happy effect upon the Christians of the proconsulate. They multiplied in
the greater and the maritime cities, and made their way into positions of
importance, whether in trade or the governmental departments; they
extended their family connections, and were on good terms with the
heathen. Whatever jealousy might be still cherished against the Christian
name, nevertheless, individual Christians were treated with civility, and
recognised as citizens; though among the populace there would be
occasions, at the time of the more solemn pagan feasts, when accidental
outbursts might be expected of the antipathy latent in the community, as
we have been recording in the foregoing chapter. Men of sense, however,
began to understand them better, and to be more just to the reasonableness
of their faith. This would lead them to scorn Christianity less, but it
would lead them to fear it more. It was no longer a matter merely for the
populace to insult, but for government deliberately to put down. The
prevailing and still growing unbelief among the lower classes of the
population did but make a religion more formidable, which, as heathen
statesmen felt, was able to wield the weapons of enthusiasm and zeal with
a force and success unknown even to the most fortunate impostors among the
Oriental or Egyptian hierophants. The philosophical schools were impressed
with similar apprehensions, and had now for fifty years been employed in
creating and systematising a new intellectual basis for the received
paganism.

But, while the signs of the times led to the anticipation that a struggle
was impending between the heads of the state religion and of the new
worship which was taking its place, the great body of Christians, laymen
and ecclesiastics, were on better and better terms, individually, with the
members of society, or what is now called the public; and without losing
their faith or those embers of charity which favourable circumstances
would promptly rekindle, were, it must be confessed, in a state of
considerable relaxation; they often were on the brink of deplorable sins,
and sometimes fell over the brink. And man