He was married and had had four children, but three of them had died young and only one son, Julius, was left.
To him Juvenal devoted all his love and care. He particularly wished to educate his son so that that latter might not be tormented by such doubts about life as perplexed himself. When Julius had passed his fifteenth year his father entrusted him to a philosopher who had settled in their town and who received youths for their instruction. His father gave his son to this philosopher, together with his comrade Pamphilius, the son of a former slave whom Juvenal had freed.
The lads were friends, of the same age, and both handsome fellows. Both studied diligently and both were well conducted. Julius distinguished himself more in the study of the poets and in mathematics, but Pamphilius in the study of philosophy. A year before the completion of their studies, Pamphilius at school one day informed his teacher that his widowed mother was moving to the town of Daphne, and that he would have to abandon his studies.
The teacher was sorry to lose a pupil who was doing him credit, Juvenal too was sorry, but sorriest of all was Julius. But nothing would induce Pamphilius to remain, and after thanking his friends for their love and care, he took his leave.
Two years passed. Julius had finished his studies and during all that time had not once seen his friend.
One day however he met him in the street, invited him to his home, and began asking him how and where he was living. Pamphilius told him that he and his mother were still living in the same place.
‘We are not living alone,’ said he, ‘but among many friends with whom we have everything in common.’
‘How “in common”?’ inquired Julius.
‘So that none of us considers anything his own.’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘We are Christians,’ said Pamphilius.
‘Is it possible?’ exclaimed Julius. ‘Why, I have heard that the Christians kill children and eat them! Is it possible that you take part in that?’
For to be a Christian in those days was the same thing as in our days to be an anarchist. As soon as a man was convicted of being a Christian he was immediately thrown into prison, and if he did not renounce his faith, was executed.
‘Come and see,’ replied Pamphilius. ‘We do not do anything strange. We live simply, trying to do nothing bad.’
‘But how can you live if you do not consider anything your own?’
‘We manage to live. If we work for our brethren they do the same for us.’
‘But if your brethren take your labour and do not give you theirs – how then?’
‘There are none of that sort,’ said Pamphilius. ‘Such people like to live in luxury and will not come to us. Our life is simple and not luxurious.’
‘But there are plenty of lazy people who would be glad to be fed for nothing.’
‘There are such, and we receive them gladly. Lately a man of that kind came to us, a runaway slave. At first, it is true, he was lazy and led a bad life, but he soon changed his habits, and has now become a good brother.’
‘But suppose he had not improved?’
‘There are such, too, and our Elder, Cyril, says that we should treat these as our most valued brethren, and love them even more.’
‘How can one love a good-for-nothing fellow?’
‘One cannot help but love a man!’
‘But how can you give to all whatever they ask?’ queried Julius. ‘If my father gave to all who ask he would very soon have nothing left.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ replied Pamphilius. ‘We have enough left for our needs, and if it happens that we have nothing to eat or to wear, we ask of others and they give to us. But that happens rarely. It only once happened to me to go to bed supperless, and then only because I was very tired and did not wish to go to ask for anything.’
‘I don’t know how you manage,’ said Julius, ‘but my father says that if you don’t save what you have, and if you give to all who ask, you will yourself die of hunger.’
‘We don’t! Come and see. We live, and not only do not suffer want, but even have plenty to spare.’
‘How is that?’
