Among the early passages of Roman history, perhaps none makes a deeper impression than that scene, after the Roman youth were consumed at the Allia, and the invading Gauls under Brennus had entered the city, where in a temple were seated the venerable Senators of the Republic, too old to flee, and careless of surviving the Roman name, each on his curule chair, unarmed, looking, as Livy says, more august than mortal, and with the majesty of the gods. The Gauls gaze as upon sacred images; and the hand of slaughter, which had raged through the streets of Rome, is stayed by the sight of an unarmed assembly. This continued until one of the invaders standing nearest reached his hand to stroke gently the silver beard of a Senator, who, indignant at the license, smote the barbarian with his ivory staff, which was the signal for general vengeance. Think you that a band of savages could have slain these Senators, if the _appeal to Force_ had not been made first by one of their own number? This story, though recounted by Livy, and also by Plutarch,[97] is repudiated by Niebuhr; but it is none the less interesting as a legend, attesting the law by which hostile feelings are aroused or subdued. [97] Liv., Lib. V. cap. 41. Plutarch, Life of Camillus. This great scene, in its essential parts, has been repeated in another age and country. The theatre was an African wilderness, with Christian converts for Roman Senators. The little band, with their pastor, who was a local chief, assembled on a Sabbath morning for prayer, when suddenly robbers came upon them, as the Gauls upon Rome, and demanded cattle. The pastor, asking his people to sit still, calmly pointed to the cattle, and then turned back to unite with the rest in prayer. The robbers, like the Gauls, looked on in silence, awed into forbearance, until they quietly withdrew, injuring nobody and touching nothing. Such an instance, which is derived from the report of missionaries,[98] testifies again to the might of meekness, and proves that the Roman story, though reduced to the condition of a legend, is in harmony with actual life. [98] Moffat, Missionary Labors and Scenes in Southern Africa, Ch. 32.