blunder. He wrote a letter to some "Roman bishops," asking them to use their influence with the emperor, and procure his intercession with the Shah-in-Shah to avert persecution; and in the letter, he used one very unfortunate expression, "God has given us over to an accursed kingdom." This was dispatched by a special messenger, who was directed to smuggle it over the border in the hollow of a cane; but things went awry somehow and the document fell into the hands of Bar-soma.
It is too much to ask of an oriental controversialist, that when the imprudence of an opponent has put the means of ruining him in his hands, the combatant should refrain from using it, merely because the consequences to the writer may be very unpleasant! Further, it was easy for Bar-soma to persuade himself that his mere duty to the Shah-in-Shah demanded that he should forward the letter to him; and it was the fact that he would himself be ruined if the King should ever hear that he had seen—and suppressed—such a document.
Given the choice between using the chance of ruining an opponent and running the risk of ruin himself, it was not likely that Bar-soma should hesitate. He sent the letter to Piroz. It was not generous, but few orientals would have acted otherwise. He may or may not have sent accusations with it, nor does it greatly matter; a man does not reach high office under an oriental despotism without knowing what the writing of such a letter means to its writer if it be discovered.
Piroz was furious when the letter was read to him: the patriarch was summoned at once to "the King's door," and when he entered was shown simply the foot of the folded paper, with the query, "Is this your seal?" He admitted the fact, and the letter was read in full diwan. It was vain for the terror-struck Christians to explain that
