'T^LIl'>¥]MII¥IiI^SIir¥" Gift of the Rev. Heber H. Beadle THE HISTOET THE CHURCH OF CHRIST WITH A SPECIAL VIEW TO THE ^dxmvc&an ai €\pcmtmn Jfaxt^- una ITifb. (From A.D. 1 to A.D. 313.) Bythe REV. ISL AY JBURirS, M.A., Minister of St. Peter% Dundee, LONDON: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; EDIWBTJKSH ; AND HEW TOKK. PREFACE. I Y aim in the following pages has been to present, pkeface. within a comparatively moderate compass, the results of the most mature investigations into the history and life of the early Church, in a form at once solid and popular, and thus to produce a work suited alike to the purposes of closet study and of general Christian edification. With this view, I have adopted the following method : First, I have excluded from the main body of the work all such minute details of theological sects and contro versies as are necessarily unintelligible and repulsive to general readers, referring the student to a full Ap pendix at the close, chiefly from approved writers, for ampler information on special points ; and, secondly, I have sought to enrich and enliven the meagre detail of ecclesiastical events and names with such graphic notices of Christian faith and manners, and such glimpses into the inner life of that old time, as are usually presented in a separate form, but which constitute, in truth, the very soul of Christian history. iv PREFACE. PREFACE. As examples of what I mean, I may refer to the account of the " Church in the Catacombs," in the third chapter of the second Period ; the blending of biographical incident with the history of doctrines, in the fourth ; and the picture of Christian life and manners during the Martyr Age, in the fifth. The authorities I have chiefly used throughout, besides such original sources as were open to me, are, for general Church historj'-, Neander, Gieseler, Kurtz, Guerike, Hase, Schaff", Alexander (New York), Merle d'Aubign^' and the other writers of the " Stances Historiques," Milman, Burton ; for doctrine-history, Hagenbach and" Neander ; for Christian antiquities, Riddle and Coleman ; a'lM^ for information on special points connected with the lifg of the early Church, Conybeare and Howson's " Life and Epistles of .St. Paul," Taylor's "Ancient Christianity," andBunsen's "Hippolytus and his Times," and "Analecta Ante-Nicsena." Where I have only adopted the generaUy received results of the best writers, I have avoided the parade of needless references ; on special matters of doubt ful controversy, I have either quoted my authority or pointed to the sources of fuller information. On the much agitated question of the primitive form of Church govemment I have avoided aU discussion. The catholic design of the work excluded a controversy in regard to which the great body of orthodox Protestants are so much divided, and which, besides, is much better studied in works expressly devoted to its consideration, than in a general history of the Church. PREFACE. V In looking along the whole course of the Church's pkepaoe. earthly life, it has seemed to me that it might be most fitly arranged under the following natural periods, namely : — I. The Apostolic Church (from the Advent of Christ to the death of St. John.) II. The Martyr Church (from the death of St. John to the edict of Milan in A.D. 313). III. The Imperial Church (from the edict of Milan to the fall of the Western Roman Empire). IV. The Mediaeval Church (from the fall of the Western Empire to the Reformation). V. The Modern Church (from the Reformation to the present time). The present volume, it will thus be seen, embraces only a part of a larger plan ; at the same time, the period to which it refers, constituting the great formative age of the Church, is a subject in itself so complete and unique, that its history may well be considered as a separate and independent whole. The Chronological Tables of ecclesiastical and contem porary history appended to each Period, the Synoptical Chart of ante-Nicene theology, on page 287, and the Examination Questions at the close of the volume, will be acceptable to those who wish to test their knowledge, and secure a thorough mastery of the whole course o£ events and opinions during the first Christian centuries. VI PREFACE. Such as it is, I commend the work to the kindly indulgence of the Church, and to the gracious acceptance of Him who lives and reigns in all history, and especially' in that history which is but the continuance and follow ing up of His own Incarnate Life on earth. I. B. Dundee, March 1862. CONTENTS. INTRODUCTION. THE WOKLD BEPOEE CHRIST— PKEPARATION FOR TBE ADTENT. 1. In Heathenism, 2. In Judaism, ... 3. In the General Circumstances of the World, Page 10 17 20 PERIOD FIRST. CHAPTER I. ' THB BIRTH AHD BAPTISM OP THE CHURCH. Bethabara andthe first Disciples, Ministry of Christ, Church at time of Ascension, The Miracle of Pentecost, The Pentecostal Church, ... Early Triumphs, ... i Martyrdom of Stephen; Dispersion and further Extension of the Church Baptism of Cornelius, 222324 9627293031 CHAPTER II. antioch AND THE FIRST MISSIONS, Antioch and its History, ... 32 First Gentile ChurcJi, '... ..- 3i The First Mission, 36 Labours of St. Paul, 37 Labours of St. Peter, 38 Labours of St. John, ... 40 E.^rly Heresies— Nazarenes, Ebionites, &c. 41 Traditions of other Apostles 46 fames the Just at Jerusalem, 47 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER IIL THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE OP THE APOSTOLIC AOB. Page Extent of the Church, ... ... ... ... ... ... 51 Numerical Strength and Social Position, ... ... ... ... 52 Constitution and Organization, ... ... ... ... ... 54 Form of Worship, ... ... ... ... ... \ ... 55 Psalmody, and early Hymnology, ... .. ... ... ... 56. Preaching, ... ... > ... ... ... ... ... 58 Literature — Apostolic Fathers, ... ... ... ... ... 62 Chronological Table I. — Ecclesiastical and Contemporary History of the First Period, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 64 ChronologicalTablell.— TheLife of St. Paul, ... ... ... 68 The Apostles' Creed, ... ... ... ... ... ... 71 PERIOD SECOND. CHAPTER I. THE •PROPAGATION OP THE PAITH. Church in a.d. 160, Church in a.d. 200, Advancing Social Importance, Causes of Success, Gibbon's Secondary Causes, Different Modes of Conversion, 74 7576 7981 CHAPTER IL MARTYR TIMES. Causes of Persecution, Normal State of the Martyr Church, The " Ten Persecutions," Persecution under Nero ; Account of Tacitus, Persecution under Domitian, Persecution under Trajan, Correspondence of Pliny and Trajan, Martyrdom of Ignatius, ... Christians under Hadrian, 838788 8890919192 92 CONTENTS. ix Paga Rebellion of the Jews and Second Fall of Jerusalenj, ... ... 92 Persecution under Marcus Aurelius, ... ... ... ... 93 Asia Minor — Martyrdom of Polycarp, ... ... - ... ... 94 Vienne and Lyons — Pothinus, Blandina, Ponticus, Symphorinus, ... 94 Persecution under Septimius Severus, ... ... ... ... ^Q Leonidas, Potamisena, Basilides, ... ... ... ... ... 97 Perpetua, Felicitas, &c., ... ... ... ... ... ... 97 OHAPTBR III. MARTYR TIMES CONTINUED— IHE OHUKOH IH THE CATACOMBS. The Church under Ground, ... ... ... ... ... 100 Roma Subterranea — its Streets, Chambers, Churches, Tombs, ... 101 Persecutions under Maximinua Thrax, ... ... ... ... 110 A Long Peace, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Ill Persecution under Decius, ... ... ... 112 The Lapsed, Classes of, ... ... ... ... ... 112 Persecutions under Gallus and Valerian, ... ... ... ... 114 Persecution under Dioclesian, ... ... ... ... ... 115 Peculiar Feature of this Persecution — Attempted Destruction of the Sacred Writings, ... ... ... ... ... ... 117 The Death-struggle, ... ... ... ... ... ... 118 Eise of Constantine and final Peace of the Church, ... ... ... 120 CHAPTER IV. THE FATHERS OP THE MARTYR AGE — BIOGRAPHY AND THEOLOGY OF IHB ANII-NIOENE CHURCH. 1. Justin Martyr and the Christian Apologists, ... ... 122 2. Irenseus and the Gnostic Controversy, ... ... ... ... 128 3. Origen and the Alexandrian School, ... ... ... ... 136 PantaBDUs, Clement, ... ... ... ... ... 137 Doctrine of the Logos — The Trinitarian Controversy, ... ... 145 4. Tertullian and the Montanists, ... ... ... , ... ... 147 6. Cyprian and the Doctrine of the Church, ... ... ... 159 Schism of Novatus, ... ... ... ... ... 164 Schism of Novatian, ... ... ... ... ... 167 Contest with Eome — Catholicism wrsws Eomanism, ... ... 169 The Church System, ... 173 Other Writers of this Age, ... ... ... ... ... 176 CHAPTER V. CHRISTIAN LIFE IN TUE MARTYR AGE. Characteristic Virtues — Patience, Fortitude, Brotherly Love, ... 178 Idea ofthe Christian Calling — Militia Christiana — The Eoyal Priesthood 181 Ascetic Tendencies, ... ... ... ... ... ... 184 Marriage and Family Life, ... ... ... ... .. 187 Dress, 189 X CONTENTS. Eeligious Worship, Prayer, Symptoms of Corruption, Sacraments,Favourite Symbols, Discipline and the Catechumenate, Penitential System, Practical Eeligious Teaching — The Atonement, ka., Relation to the World and Civil Society, Views of Death and the Grave — Christian and Heathen Mourning, The Natalitia Martyrum, and their commemoration Their Abuse, Conclusion, Chronological Table III.— Ecclesiastical and Contemporary History of the Second Period, Chronological Table IV. — Bishops of Jerusalem, Antioch, Eome, and Alexandria, to the year 325, Chronological Table V. — General Councils, Page 190195195196197 199200206 211 213213214 218 230232 APPENDIX. I. St. Peter at Eome, II. Heretics op the Apostolic Age, Dositheus,Simon Magus, Menander, ... III. Gnostic Sects AND Teaohkrs, Ebionism aud Ebiouite Gnosis, Nazarenes, ... Ebionites, Elkesaites, ... Pseudo-Clementine System, Gentile Goosticisui, ... Cerinthus, ... Basilides, Valentinus, Ophites, ... ... ^ ... Carpocratians, Antitactes, ... Saturninus,Tatian, Bardesanes, Marcion, Hermogenes,Manichffiism, IV. Primitive Form of Church Government Episcopacy, Presbytery, and Congregationalism — Definition ofthe Question at issue. 235236 236 236237 237240 240 241 241 241243244 245 246247 248249249250 250251252254 254 CONTENTS. xi Fngo V. The Love Feast, ... ... ... ... ... 255 Connection with the Eucharist, ... ... ... 255 Origin of the Name and Custom, ... ... ... 266 Mode of Celebration, ... ... ... ... 256 Time and Place of Celebration, ... ... ... 258 Abolition of the Cttstom, ... ... ... ... 259 VI. The Apostolic Fathers, ... ... ... ... 259 Clemens Eomanus, ... ... ... ... 259 Barnabas, ... ... ... ... ... ... 260 Hermas, ... ... ... ... ... ... 2C0 Ignatius, ... ... ... ... ... ... 261 Polycarp, ... ... ... ... ... ... 261 Papias, . . ... ... ... ... ... 261 Diognetus, Epistle to, ... ... ... ... 262 VII. Ignatian Epistles, ... ... ... ... ... 262 VII. Christian Apocrypha, ... ... ... :.. 265 IX. Correspondence between Pliny AND Trajan, ... ... 269 Inferences from, ... ... ... ... ... 273 Illustrations from Lucian, ... ... ... ... 274 X.' Doctrine OF the Logos A»D THE Holy Trinity, ... ... 275 XI. Doctrine of the Trinity before the Council op Nicjsa, 285 Tabular Synopsis, ... ... ... ... ... 287 XII. Neo-Platonism, ... ... ... ... ... 288 Plutarch, ... ... ... .. ... ... 289 Ammonius Saccas, Plotinus, Jamblichus, Proclus, ... 289 Porphyry, ... ... ... ... ... 289, 290 XIII. The Easter Question, ... ... ... ... 292 XIV. The Eise OF Monachism AND Celibacy, ... ... 293 Celibacy of the Clergy, ... ... ... ... 300 XV. Doctrine OF the Lord's Supper, ... ... ... 302 XVI. The Catechumenate and the Disciplina Aroahi, ... 303 XVII. Venial AND Mortal SiHs, ... ... ... ... 305 XVIII. The Holy Scriptures AND THE Canon, ... ... ... 306 XIX. Literary Opponents of Christianity, ... ... ... 309 XX. EOGLESIASTIOAL OFFICES AND FoRM OF WORSHIP IN THE MaRTYR Age, ... ... ... ... ... ... 310 A Sunday Morning in A. D. 250, ... ... ... 310 Miasa Catechumenorum, ... ... ... ... 311 Missa Fidelium, ... ... ... ... ... 312 XXI. Symbolum NiOiEHUM, ... ... ... ... ... 315' Examination Questions, ... ... ... ... ... 317 Index, ... ... ... .-• •• ... ... 327 THE HISTOET THE CHURCH OF CHRIST. INTEODUCTION. THE WOELD BEFORE CHEIST. The central point of all time and of all history is the The cen- manifestation of the Son of God m the flesh. With his %^^^^^ advent closed the old world and began the new. In it the course of the ages at once reached its first great landing-place, and started on another and grander career. For that event all the past had been preparing, and from it all the future was to spring. It was the ripened fruit of the one, the pregnant and ever-fruitful germ of the other. The mysterious birth in Bethlehem's manger im parted at last to the world's life that divine leaven which had beeu from the first preparing, and from that moment began that process of living and life-giving fer mentation which has ever since been making all things new, and which wUl continue on from age to age untU the whole is leavened. The preparation thus made for the coming of the Prepara- Saviour was twofold, and came from quarters the most advent' * widely separated from one another. The one was the work of heathenism, the other of Judaism ; the one of 10 THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- unaided nature under the guidance only of a general DUCTION. superintending Providence, the other of renewed nature under a special and supernatural economy of grace. Human culture and divine power each contributed their part in preparing the way for a religion which, like its Author, should be at once human and divine, — a graft of heavenly and uncreated life inserted in a stock of earth. While both, however, worked together toward the same end, they did so in widely different ways. It was the function of heathenism mainly to reveal man's need — of Judaism, God's mercy. In the one we behold the creature feebly groping after the Creator, — in the other the Creator, by gi'and successive stages, drawing near to the creature. The one raised ever more and more terribly the great problem, — the other prepared the solution of it. The one was the cry of nature, — the other the response, waxing clearer and clearer as ages passed, of divine gi-ace. Thus, by a my.sterious and wonderful arrangement of Providence^ while all over the wide field of the world the soU is being prepared for the seed, in a httle spot of chosen ground the divine seed is ripening for the soil. From the day of the fall to the day of the advent, God had been preparing the world for salvation, and preparing salvation for the world. lam. Heathen- I. The preparatory influence of HEATHENISM was, as we have already remarked, chiefly negative. It was important, not so much for what it found, as for what it sought for in vain. Much as it contributed, at an after stage, by its high intellectual and scientific culture to give form and system to the divinely revealed message of grace, and to aid its establishment and propagation throughout the world, it contributed nothing whatever to its discovery. All along it had been at best but a seeker after truth, but never found it. Through long and weary ages it had been iu a sense " ciying after knowledge, and THE WOELD BEFORE CHRIST. H lifting up its voice for understanding," but the answer intro- never came. It wrestled with the great problem of man's °"°'^'°''" being and destiny, but could never solve it. It looked around it on every side, and wistfully peered after some light that might iUumine, or at least break the darkness, but all in vain. It questioned nature, it questioned its own heart, it questioned the dim records and legends of the past, it questioned the schools of philosophy and the shrines of oracles, but found no satisfactory response. Instead of clearer light, there was only increasing doubt, perplexity, darkness. " The world by wisdom knew not God." Far from advancing nearer to the truth', or to any fixedness and certitude of religious belief, it only receded age after age further and further from it, — sank into a lower and lower depth of moral and spiritual degradation. SpeedUy forgetting the few and faint remains of a primi tive revelation which they may at first have retained, and at the same time quenching that inner Hght of con science and instinctive reason which "lighteth every man," the heathen nations of antiquity seem at a very early period to have lost all practical consciousness of a living personal God, and to have sunk down to a blind and idolatrous creature worship. The world became their Natuie- god, instead of the God that made the world. Nature, "°" *¦ with aU her wondrous forms of beauty, and ceaseless and mysterious stirrings of creative life, ever present before their eyes in the clear, vivid light of those bright southern ' climes, enchained and fascinated them — filled up the whole field of view, and instead of a pathway to lead them up to God, served only as a gorgeously coloured screen to hide from their eyes his eternal majesty. They could not but be conscious of a divine power working all around them, and pervading and quickening all thijigs in earth, sea, and sky. In the rush of the waves, in the bursting of buds and flowers, in the hum of insect life, and in the silent and solemn courses of the stars, not to 12 THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- speak of the stUl more wondrous workings of their own ¦ spirits within, they recognised the ceaseless energy of a mysterious Presence, which they felt though they could not see. But that Presence they conceived of rather as a presence in the world, than above and beyond it. Some thought of it as one great soul of the universe, others as a multitude of spiritual powers inhabiting the different elements, and manifesting their agency in the various forms and phenomena of the world's life. The one view gave birth to pantheism, the other to polytheism, — the former the religion of the select few, the latter of the common herd. Both, however, united in identifying the Creator with his own works, and thus practicaUy denying or ignoring his eternal power and Godhead. Popular Hence the popular deities were for the most part either mere personifications of what were caUed the hidden powers of nature, or idealized and deified men and women whom they had come to identify with them. The crea tures thus of their own imagination, they were in all essential respects like themselves. The highest idea man could form of God was but the enlarged reflection of his own image. Jupiter, Juno, Venus, Diana, Apollo, are to all intents and purposes men and women, only of a larger size. If greater in power and beauty, they were greater also in passion and in crime, — at once enshrining the noblest virtues and sanctifying the foulest vices of their worshippers. Such as they were, they were multipUed endlessly. The great void of the human soul was not to be satisfied with two or three, or a thousand such deities. "So there were "gods many and lords many." Every National nation had its own pecuUar deities^ and its own peculiar '*°'"^°' and favourite rites. There were the gods of Greece and the gods of Eome ; the gods of Egypt, of Phcenicia, of Assyria, ' " Summus utrinque Inde furor vulgo, quod nnmina vicinorum Odit uterque locus, quum solos credat habendos Esse deos, quos ipse edit." — Juv. Sat., xv. 35. THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. 13 of Persia, and of every other people and tribe throughout intho- the world. There were gods, too, of the hills and of the ''!!!i°''' plains : 'gods of the sea and of the land : gods of the ^^^^ ' ' " . ... deities. forest and of the fountain ; gods celestia/, terrestrial, and infernal ; till the whole sphere of conscious existence seemed to teem with unseen powers of beneficent or malignant agency, before which the enthralled spirit bowed in worship, or cowered in superstitious alarm. Such was the religion of the multitude, of the great bulk and body of the people, even in the most enlight ened nations of antiquity. Tn the midst of these, how- Religion ever, there were ever found wiser and deeper spirits, "f'^'"'^- whose inward hungerings after truth could not be satisfied with such husks. Hence the long and Ulustrious line of those who all claimed, and some of them well deserved, the name of the " lovers of wisdom." Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, were only a few out of a great multitude of such seekers ; a bright and conspicuous consteUation amid thousands of other lesser stars. It seemed at one time as if their weary search were about to be crowned with success ; as if the true wisdom, wooed so long, were to be won at last. Socrates, the wisest and the best of snevates, heathen sages, approached so near the gate of truth, that ggg""' he may be said almost to have stood on its threshold. By the lowly sense of his own ignorance, by his striving after self-knowledge, by his dependence, on a higher inspiration for aU his deepest thoughts and truest impulses, by his subUme resignation and calm hope of a future life, he seemed almost to catch the spirit of the gospel, while remaining ignorant of its distinctive truths. Plato, his illustrious pupil and successor, took, intellectu- piato, ob. ally at least, a stiU higher flight. With a genius at once '¦°' ^^^' poetic and keenly speculative, he gathered together the scattered elements of thought inherited from his master, and combining them with the fruits of his own original meditation, formed them into a sublime system of uni- l-i THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- versal philosophy, which must ever be regarded as the DUCTION. jjjgf^ggt effort of the unassisted human mind in the search after religious truth, and the nearest approach ever made by heathenism toward the ideas and the .spirit of the coming salvation of God. He taught the soul of man to realize its own immortal nature and its essential rela tionship with the divine, placed the highest good in union and communion with God, discoursed of another and higher world beyond the veil of time and sense, in which dwelt the perfect and eternal archetypes of all that is good and beautiful and true here below, and called the forlorn and sense-imprisoned spirit to aspire towards that bright region as its true, though forsaken home. There was something in all this, and generally in the lofty and ethereal tone ofhis whole philosophy, that was in unison with the spirit of Christianity, and which was at least fitted to prepare men's minds for tbe conception of that unseen kingdom of spiritual and immortal life, "which eye had not seen, nor ear heard, neither had entered into the heart of man." Such were the highest results of heathen speculation, the richest and ripest fruits of the long and toilsome search after wisdom. At best they were only " guesses at truth," and could never impart to the soul any certainty of knowledge, any assured conviction of unseen realities. They were bright and glorious dreams; and, like dreams, very vivid and real, doubtless, for the moment, to the lofty spirits whoin they visited ; but, Uke dreams too, thin and unsubstantial. To Plato succeeded Aristotle, Aristotlc with keen logical faculty and metaphysical acumen, and while adding Uttle to the substance of truth, contributed a method of investigation and study which has descended as an inheritance to all after time, and tended more to mould the entire form of human thought than any other influence whatsoever. But he was the last of the truly great heathen sages. With him expired the last bright gleam of ancient philosophy and wisdom. ob. 322. THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. IS Henceforth the course of human thought was incessantly intho- downward. With the loss of their civil liberty and ''°^°''' national life, which took place about this tirae, tlie Greeks seem rapidly to have lost also whatever was strong, ear nest, and real in their intellectual and moral life. PhUo sophy, always hostile to the existing forms of religious faith, became more and more cold, sceptical, and godless, phnoso- and gradually divided the world of speculation into, three '''''° ^"'*' schools, each one of which seemed more removed from the truth than the other. There was first the frivolous and sensual Epicurean,^ regarding pleasure as the highest Epicu- good, tracing the world and all human things to the "^°"^' blind play of chance, robbing the soul of its immortality, and God of all interest in or care for the world, and thus turning human life into a mere animal and sensuous existence but a degree reinoved above the beasts of the field. Then there was the cold and iron-hearted Stoic,^ stoics, wrapt up ill the pride of his own independent and self- sufficing strength, resolving all things into a stern and unalterable fate, to which, when he can no longer resist, he calmly and grandly bends, despising pleasure, despising pain, despising life itself, except so long as it may be held with honour, and when no longer worth the keep ing, throwing it away by a voluntary self-destruction, — the true religion of strong Roman hearts in an age of degradation and despair, and when nothing remained of their ancient glory but the proud spirit and the stern unbending wiU. And then, lastty, went forth the darkest and vilest spirit of all, a vain, frivolous, heartless scepti- sceptics. cism,' which had its rallying point in the new academy, but whicli more and more infected with its spirit the whole world of ancient speculation and thought. Scoff ing at all truth, denying the possibility of any certainty of moral or religious knowledge, it placed the highest * School founded by Epicurus, ob. B.C. 271. ' School founded by Zeno, ob. B.o. 260. ' School founded by Arcesilaus, ob. B.C. 240; and Carneades, ob. 128. 16 THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- wisdom in the studious avoidance of care, and in the .1 ¦ tranquU enjoyment of the present moment, reckless of the future. Thus, amid the contests and vain jangUngs of the other schools, there was gradually opening up beneath their feet a great gulph of absolute unbeUef, which, yawning wider and wider from age to age, threat ened at last to swallow up utterly whatever was sound Moral cor- and truc in the world's life in its black abyss.^ Mean- ruptioii. .,y.jjj2e -with the decay of reUgious belief, the moral life of the people continued age after age to sink to a lower and still lower depth of degradation and corruption. The strong, though rude natural virtues of early times had expired and given place to a civilization which, to all the vices of savage life, united a refined licentiousness pecuUarly its own. Family puiity, female honour, mutual faith and truth, and aU those other ties which bind society together, perished in one wide deluge of cruelty, licentiousness, and shameless abandonment, realizing at last, in aU its darkest lines, the picture drawn from the life by an apostle's master-hand: "Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools, and changed the glory of the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man, and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things. And even as they did not Uke to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient : being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickednes.s, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, in ventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, without understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural aflPec- * " Esse aliqnid manes et snbteiTanea regna, Et contum, et Stygio ranaS in gurgite nigras, Atque una transire vadum tot millia cymba Nee pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum sere lavantur." Juv. Sat., ii. 150. TME WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. 17 tion, implacable, unmerciful : who, knowing the judg- intro- ment of God, that they which commit such things, are ""f^"- worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them^' ,(Rom. i. 22, 23, 28-32). Thus by its very misery and utter hopelessness of self-deli verance, no less than by its former yearnings and faint dreams of better days, did that old heathenism become, in a sad sense, as the "voice of one crying in the wilderness, Pre pare ye the way of the Lord; make his paths straight." It was at the very moment when the world was ripe either for destruction or a divine redemption, that the Great Restorer appeared. II. In passing now from heathenism to Judaism, we Judaism. enter at once into a new world. Dark and dim as that old covenant was, compared with that better dispensation that was to succeed it, it was as the noonday Ught itself compared with the deep gloom that covered the earth all around. " From the world of polytheistic religion, we pass into the sanctuary of monotheism; from the sunny halls where nature and men are deified, to the solemn temple of Jehovah, the only true God, of whose glory all nature is but a feeble ray, and who maketh the earth his footstool." It is in truth not so much a mere preparation for the coming salvation, as that salvation itself in an embryo and rudimentary form. Beneath the rough rind of the law was already hid that divine gospel seed which was to be the germ of new life to the world. Even the great, spiritual ideas and new-creative truths which were proclaimed and, as it were, embodied in Christiaiuty, and which constitute its chief strength and glory, existed in embryo, and were to a certain extent developed in Juda ism. The unity of God; his universal and eternal pro vidence; the sanctity of law; the reality of sin; the necessity of expiation, repentance, pardon, redemption; above all, the hope burning on from age to age, and wax- 2 18 THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- ing brighter and brighter as darker night settled down on DUCTION. ^j^g world, of a divine Deliverer and King, who should arrest the powers of evil, and usher iu a blessed reign of righteousness and peace; — aU united to form a system, which was not so much superseded as consummated and crowned in the great mystery of the Cross. In the dark- Messianic est times, that reUgion never died whoUy out from the lopes. jjgg^j^ Qf the chosen people. On the contrary, affliction, exile, oppression, massacre, and iron servitude, only served to burn that great hope of the nation into their very hearts, and render it more than ever an inseparable and indestructible element of their life. From the time of the captivity downwards, and especiaUy during those last sad years which immediately preceded the birth of Christ, the Jewish people were more intensely Jewish, and more thoroughly pervaded with Messianic hopes and longings than ever. These hopes and longings, indeed, were in the minds of most sadly perverted and confused. The promised kingdom of righteousness had been degraded into a mere earthly dream of poUtical supremacy and glory. Persecution, too, especially under the savage Epi phanes and the iron yoke of Rome, had driven the nation mad, and communicated a pecuUar bitterness to their na- ' tional feelings, and a dark exclusiveness and proud defiant bigotry to their reUgion till then unknown. Hated and scorned of aU men, they hated and scorned in tum, and came more and more to anticipate the coming day of redemption rather as a day of vengeance to their enemies than of salvation to the world. Practical reUgion, too, had sunk into sad decrepitude. The Uving unity of the Church and nation had been broken up into a plurality of sects. Pharisaism, Sadduceeism, Esseneism, in their mutuaUy repeUent antagonism, had taken the place of phaiis.1- the one holy nation and peculiar people. The Pharisee, - standing alone in his self-righteous and self-sufficient pride, the very impersonation of lifeless formalism and exclusive ism. THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. 19 bigotry, muttering his prayers, multiplying his fastings, intro- flaunting his broad phylacteries, heaping up ordinances, °"''^'°''' rites, and ceremonies of empty bodily service, making clean the outside of the cup and the platter, while the inner part remained impure, — was the poor petrifaction of traditional religion of which the living soul was gone. Then there was the cold and sceptical Sadducee, the true saacincee- Jewish epicurean and rationaUst, divorced in heart and soul alike from the great traditions and glorious hopes of his nation, believing neither in angels, nor spirits, nor resurrection, nor in anything else great and earnest either in earth or heaven, bent on taking the world easy, wor shipping the ruling powers, and leaving the future to take its course. Then, finally, there was the mystic and contemplative Es,sene, a sort of Jewish ascetic monk, Essena- morbidly groaning over the evils of the times, despairing '™' of remedy, and so fleeing to the desert waste to escape from a world which they could not hope to mend. Meanwhile here and there all over the land, and even perhaps among some of those who were more or less infected with the perverted tendencies to which we have referred, there were select souls, who, in a true sense, though with dim and imperfect views, were waiting for "the .consolation of Israel;" men of humble faith, and prayer, and meditative study of the holy word, who, while bravely discharging present duty and improving present means, were looking and longing for better things to come. Such were the Simeons, the Zachariahs, the Annas, the Elizabeths, the Marys of the early gospel dawn, who flrst, though beneath a dark disguise, recognised the King of glory, and first welcomed him to their hearts. These were the true blossom and crown of the Old Tes tament Church. In these it reached at once its consum mation and its second birth, at the same moment expir ing and a-wakening to newness oi, life, in spirit like that of him who cried, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 20 THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. INTRO- depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salva- DUCTION. ^i^^_.. Thus, alike in Heathenism and in Judaism, was the way prepared for the advent of the Prince of Peace. The one, by its forlorn misery and inarticulate yearnings, — the other, by its longing hopes and prayers, — were crying out together for the great Restorer, the Desire of all nations. The whole world was in expectation, as if intently listen ing to catch his approaching footsteps, when the angelic song announced to the Jewish shepherds his birth, and the star shone forth in heaven to guide the distant sages to his feet. state of Meanwhile, everything in the outward state of the the world. .^yQj.^^ g^nd the nations marvellously conspired to further the great design. The whole world was then included within the limits of one universal empire. Eveiywhere, from the banks of the Euphrates to the shores of the Atlantic, from the German Rhine to the Egyptian NUe, there was nothing but Rome. There was one sceptre, one law, and more and more one form of civilization and of social life. The barriers of nations were broken down, and a freedom and facility of intercourse existed between the most distant regions and tribes, such as had not been known from the beginning of the world. The great trunk lines of Roman traffic were thus the ready- made channels of new ideas, and the veins and arteries destined to convey the fresh life-blood that was about to be infused into the world. In a great measure, too, there was but orie language. By a remarkable arrangement of Providence, as the result of a train of circumstances beginning with the victories of Alexander the Great and reaching downward to this time, the language of Greece, the richest and most expressive form of speech that ever lived on human tongue, had become the spoken language of the educated classes throughout the whole Roman THE WORLD BEFORE CHRIST. 21 empire — thus, as it were, reversing in behalf of God's intro- great design that judgment of the confusion of tongues ""f^" that had been sent to defeat the perverse designs of man. With this was combined another circumstance, perhaps even more remarkable. As the Greek language was everywhere, so also was the Jewish nation. By means of their frequent captivities and dispersions, they had become at last in great measure cosmopoUtized, and were found domesticated in scattered colonies of greater or less extent over the entire Roman world. In every consi derable town and cit}'^ of the empire there was thus a Jewish synagogue, Jewish worship, and a mixed con gregation of native Jews and Gentile prosetytes. Thus at once was the light of the old covenant more widely diffused, and a starting-point prepared for the introduc tion of the new. Everywhere the synagogue was the cradle of the Church — the train already laid, along which , the Uving fire might run. Thus, in this sense too, the - Jaw and the prophets prepared the way and heralded the coming pf the Lord. And, last of all, it was a time of universal peace. " The whole earth was quiet and at rest." The temple of Janus was shut. The political atmosphere was still and undisturbed, — fit prelude to His coming, whose gentle influence, like dew of summer night, descends most freely in the holy silence of the calm, expectant heart. THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. PERIOD FIRST. THE CHUKCH OF THE APOSTLES. PROM A.D. 1 TO A.D. 100. CHAPTER I. THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHITECH. A.D. 1 TO A.D. 42. PERIOD jrj, .^jj^ g^t Bethabara, beyond Jordan, amid the wUd soli- PIRST. 'J — tudes of the Judean desert that the Church of Christ was tist "' bom. From amid the solemn and awe-struck crowds that thronged around the last prophet of the law, went forth the first disciples of the gospel. The Forerunner prepared the way for the Saviour; the bright day-star, of the new and better covenant first heralded the dawn, and then vanished araid its glory. The voice of the messenger that went before to prepare His way was still sounding in the ears of the expectant people, when the Lord, whom he proclaimed and they sought, suddenly came to his temple — the living temple of those true hearts whom God's secret grace had made ready to wel come him. The preaching of repentance thus fitly ushered in the preaching of peace — the sharp probing of legal conviction, the healing balm of grace. Already had the Baptist administered to his august Successor that signi ficant rite which was to him the solemn investiture of his office; and then, having discharged that last grand act of his introductory ministry, prepared to quit the scene. Henceforth he must decrease, that his Master THE BIRTH AND BA PTISM OF- THE CHURCH. 2.3 may increase. The friend of the Bridegroom 'must drop chapter into the shade, and hide behind his Lord. An oppor- _L. tunity soon presents itself of thus gracefuUy surrendering ^•"- '-^^• his trust. One day, soon after the wondrous scene at the Jordan, he is standing with two of his disciples, doubtless conversing of the things of that eternal king dom of which he testifies, and speciaUy, perhaps, of that divine inward cleansing without which none can enter within its pale, when a mysterious stranger passes by. Jolm looks suddenlj?- up, and pointing with his hand, exclaims, " Behold the Lamb of God." It was a word spoken in season, and instantly produced its effect. " The two disciples heard John speak, and the)'' followed Jesus," passing at once within the circle of that divine attraction from which they never afterwards escaped. The name of one of these disciples is one well known to us. It First dis- was Andrew, Simon Peter's brother. The convert at °* ^ once became a missionary. " He first findeth his own brother Simon, and saith unto him, We have found the Messias. And he brought him to Jesus.'' Thus already were three faithful souls gathered round the Lord, and united under him in a holy fellowship of Ufe and love, of which the whole Church throughout all the world and throughout all time is but the increase and expansion. The circle soon widens. Jesus finds PhUip; Philip finds Nathanael; John and James at their fishing-nets, Matthew at the receipt of custom, obey the divine call of grace; and so all the rest, one by one, till the mystic twelve was complete, and the first nucleus of the Church was fuUy formed. The twelve foundation stones were laid of that divine city of God which in all succeeding ages has been rising up according to the one predestined plan, and advancing onwards to its consummation. Thereafter the work of conversion went on slowly but Ministry steadily. Jesus spake as never man spake, and his ° words found a response in many hearts. While the 24 THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. PERIOD Pharisees frowned, the Sadducees sneered, and the popu- '"'^^' lace, with characteristic fickleness, now shouted and now u-^i blasphemed, there were everywhere hidden ones who recognised in Him their true Shepherd, and followed him. " He came unto his own, and hLs own received him not." But some there were who did receive him, and " to them ^ he gave power to become the sons of God, even to them that believed on his name, which were bom, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God." One by one they caine, as the divine Spirit moved and drew them, from the east, and west, and north, and south, within the limits of the cho.sen land, even as afterwards through the whole world, and "sat down in the kingdom of God." Zaccheus, Mary, Martha, Lazarus, the Magdalene, Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus, were but a few examples of that first gospel harvest which the divine Reaper gathered in with his own hand. Much was done, and much more was prepared. Only a . few sheaves of the precious wheat had been actuaUy brought home; but to the omniscient eye of the great Husbandman the fields were already white unto the harvest. But that peerless ministry soon reached its close. Its great design was, not so much to build the temple, as to lay the foundation on which after labourers should build up the living stones to the world's end. After three brief and chequered, years of toil, that Ufe of love Thoascen- which began in the manger was terminated on the cross. The Church was stiU a little flock. The whole multitude of the faithful to whom the departing Saviour bade fare well was probably no larger than a single considerable congregation of Christian worshippers of the present day. Immediately after the ascension, the disciples, then in Jerusalem, assembled together in the precincts of the Temple to pray, and wait for the coming of the promised Comforter. The number of those who then assembled was only a hundred and twenty. These did not, of THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. 25 course, constitute the whole number of disciples then in ohaptkr the world. There may have been some even in Jeru- fi_ salem who were not then present, or even known to the apostles, besides many others scattered here and there over the land, and especially the more distant provinces. On one occasion we know that no fewer than five hun dred brethren at once were assembled around their risen Lord, probably on that mountain in Galilee to which aUusion is more than once made in the gospel narratives, as a place of general rendezvous. It was thus, probably, a grand muster of the whole body of believers throughout the land, for a last solemn interview with their glorified Lord before his ascending on high, and must have in cluded, therefore, almost every one bearing the name of Christ who could by any possibility be present. It was a general assembly of the whole Church then on the earth — that Church which has since stretched its wings so far, and which numbers its members now, not by hundreds or thousands, but by mUlions in every region of the world: But it was not in numbers only that the Church was then in its infancy. In knowledge, in faith, in self-denying love, in moral and spiritual strength, and in every other element of its new and divine' life, it was weak as a new-born babe. Carried hitherto in the Saviour's arms, and nursed by his ever-present care, it seemed whoUy incapable of standing alone, or even of permanently existing out of his sight. But a new era is approaching. She is on the very eve of a great decisive crisis in her history, which shall do more for her in a single day than whole years or centuries of common time, and by which she is destined to pass all at once from the weakness of helpless nonage to the full stature and strength of perfect manhood in Christ. It is ten days since the ascension of the Lord» It is the first day of the week, the second return of that 26 THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. PERIOD sacred morning since the Saviour's departure. The dis- ¦ ciples were, as usual, assembled together, possibly in some miracle of chambcr^ in the precincts of the Temple, for common prayer. Pentecost Again they spread before the throne of grace the great pro mise of the Comforter, and with an intensity of holy long ing and expectancy, which has waxed stronger and stronger from day to day, plead for its accorapUshment, when sud denly there is a sound from heaven, as of a "rushing mighty wind," filling all the place where they are sitting, and cloven tongues like as of fire descend and rest in lam bent flame on the heads of each of them. A new spirit is breathed over the assembly, and stirs and kindles every heart. Urged by a di^^ne irresistible impulse, they open .their lips together, and speak with other tongues as the Spirit gives them utterance. The report of a spectacle so strange soon spreads among the groups in the adjacent temple-courts, and a vast concourse is speedUy assem bled, composed both of native Jews and of devout pro selytes from every quarter of the world. There is a stir of wonder, inquiry, and awe-struck expectation, with here or there a passing jeer of ribald scorn, when Peter rises up, and in a spirit widely different from that which but a few days before quailed befdre the maid in the judgment-hall, boldly pleads the cause ofthe crucifiedNaza- rene, and testifies both to Jews and Greeks repentance towards God, and faith towards the Lord Jesus Christ. His words feU amid the startled multitude like sparks of fire. Thousands were pricked to the heart, and cried out in anguish, "Men and brethren, what shaU we do?' They believed, confessed, and were baptized; and on the same day there were added unto the Church three thousand souls ! iissisrni- If the scene at Bethabara was the Church's birth, that of Pentecost was as truly its baptism^ There, like • The expression in Acts i. 2, SAok rhv iucov, is not necessarily incompatible witb this supposition, which is supported by Olshausen and others. See how ever, on the other side, Alford tn loco. THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. 27 a feeble babe, was she brought to the Saviour's arms, and chapter by him bathed in the new-creating waters of life. Tlie 2L- mystic prophecy bf the Baptist received at once its ex planation and its fulfilment, " I indeed baptize with water unto repentance, but there cometh one after me greater than I, he shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire." -That baptism was a true regenerative act. Coming up from the mystic waters the Church was in every respect a new creature, — old things were passed away, and all things were become new. New Ught, hew life, new love, new hopes and longings, new convictions and new resolves, new and grander views of the divine etemal plan, thriU through all her heing, and the consciousness of new strength fires her heart. She has passed all at once from the region of the flesh to the i-egion of the spirit. She sees all things henceforth in heaven and earth with other eyes, and feels and responds to them with another spirit* She is strong, resolute, brave, fuU of buoyant life and hope, and prepared to do battle against all the world, in the name and for the sake of her Lord. In the Pentecostal Church thus fully con.stituted, and Tiie Pen- tc COS till endued with divine Ufe from above, we behold the image cimicn. and the type of the true and living Church of Christ in all after times. Thus, first, she was supernatural and divine. The power which thus newly formed and fashioned her was a power direct from heaven ; it de scended with the rushing wind and fiery tongues, which in themselves were but symbols, and as it were sacraments of those celestial influences of grace. She was the creature, not of circumstance, or of education, or of human con trivance and policy, but of the immediate presence and working of the new-creating spirit of God. — She was cathoUc, — already even at that first outset of her career, gathering in her members from every region under heaven — "Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and the dweUers 28 THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. PERIOD in Mesopotamia, and in Judea, and Cappadocia, in Pontus FiiisT. g^jjj Asia, Phrygia, and PamphyUa, Egypt, and the parts of Lybia around Cyrene, — meet emblem of that one uni versal Church, whose field is the world, and within whose ample pale " there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond or free, but Christ is all and in all." — She was discrvmvnative and selective, drawing in her accessions from all sides, but not drawing in all; bringing in men, not in masses and crowds, but individually, one by one, by personal conviction and conversion, through that solemn gate of life on which it is written, "Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God." — She was expansive. The spirit that dwelt within her was essentially and emphatically' evangelistic. It was at once aggressive and attractive. It worked Uke leaven ; it ran like fire ; it germinated and raultiplied itself Uke seed. That first great draught of souls drawn to lapd by the Galilean fisherman, was but a type of the true work of the Church, and of all its true ininisters and members in every age and in every i-egion of the world. — ^And, finally, she was spi/ritual and free. She was not so much a hierarchy as a brotherhood. She was not an outward organization, but a living society. She was a kingdom indeed, but a kingdom which is not meat and drink, but righteousness and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. EssentiaUy she was a congregation {eKKX^a-ia), a sacred coraraunity of raen and women united together in Christ, and dweUing together in a holy fellowship of faith and love. Outward forms of administration and of worship were, indeed, necessary in tlieir own way, and afterwards received, at least in regard to their essential principles, an ample apostolic sanction ; but in their nature they occupy a secondary, not a primary place. They touch not the being, but only the weU-being of the Church. Tliey belong not to its essence, but to its cir cumstances. They are not the Church, but exist for the I THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. 29 Church ; " for the perfecting of the saints, for the work chapter of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ." , _1_ Thus already did the immaculate Bride of Christ stand forth before the world in all her queenly grace and majesty — as a woman clothed with the sun, and having the moon beneath her feet — in the freshness of her youth "looking forth as the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and terrible as an army with banners." Thus constituted and established, the young Church of Christ grew a-pace. Its numbers swelled;' its spirit rose from day to day. Like the holy waters of Ezekiel's vision, it started on its triumphant course, widening and deepening as it flowed along. Now the number of its Eaiiy names is three thousand souls. Now it is five thou- ""™^ ^ sand. Now they are reckoned, not in hundreds or in thousands, but in crowds, — "Multitudes both of men and women." Gradually the mysterious influence, which had been confined at first mainly to tbe humbler classes of the people, creeps upward, and gathers in its own from every rank in the social scale, and even a "gi'eat com pany of -the priests are obedient to the faith." Mean while the work goes on comparatively undisturbed and in silence. Jhe fierce storms of persecution which were so soon to burst on the Church were as yet held back by an almighty hand, tiU the holy fire should have been fuUy kindled, and the faint and transient breeze of opposition which now and then awoke, fanned only, not extinguished, the flame. The common people regarded them with decided favour; the Pharisees, pleased by their powerful advocacy of the resurrection, held back undecided; the Sadducees alone set themselves in stern and unmitigated, though for the moment impotent hostility. As yet, indeed, they could scarcely be said to form a separate religious community at all. They are still nominally at least in. the Jewish Church, though not of it. They still 30 THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. PERIOD attend the Temple service at the accustomed hours of FIRST, ppjj^ygj.. the}', still mingle more or less freely amid the synagogue assemblies ; they still observe, with even more than usual reverence and solemnity, the appointed rites and feasts of the ancient worship. They did not leave the synagogue until, according to their Master's prophecy, they were cast out of it. They are in every respect true Jews, only that, unlike the great body of their country men, they are so, not outwardly only, but inwardly, and instead of sadly expecting a Messiah in the future, rejoice in a Saviour come. The old blossoms still cling, albeit faded and withered, to the now ripened fruit, and only graduaUy and silently drop away. ¦ But the new wine cannot long be contained within the old bottles. The more the new religion gxew in strength, and the more it manifested its true spiritual nature, the more it awak ened against itself the slumbering enmity of the world. Pharisee and Sadducee, at first divided in sentiment, be came graduaUy reconciled in common hostility to a power which was alike the deadly ienemy of botb. The crisis which had been from the first preparing came at last. The powerful and thrilling preaching of Stephen roused into a flame the long smouldering fires. He fell, the first 'Christian martyr, amid a shower of stones and First per- frenzied cries of execration. Persecution thus begun went secution, ..i • . /. -i mi . A.D. 36. on With increasing ferocity, ihe congregation was broken up and scattered; the twelve apostles alone remaining like unshaken rocks amid the waves. But that which man had designed for the Church's ruin, was overruled by God for good. That violent shaking of the tree only dispersed more widety the precious seed. " The disciples went everywhere preaching the word;" and the move ment hitherto confined within the walls of Jerusalem, was extended over the whole of Palestine. Through the length and breadth of _ the chosen land, even to the dis tant borders of Phcenicia and Syria, the gospel tidings THE BIRTH AND BAPTISM OF THE CHURCH. 31 rang. At Samaria, in particular, those fields which even chapter in our Lord's day had been white, a rich harvest was _i_ gathered in through the ministry of the evangelist PhiUp, while, in the conversion of an illustrious stranger, baptized by the same hand, the distant Ethiopia iseemed already to stretch out her hands unto God.' At last at Caesarea, t'he Roman metropolis of the Holy Land, by the hands of Peter, in obedience to an express divine intimation, the first Gentile convert was received by baptism, without circumcision, into the bosom of the Chtirch of Baptism God. The barrier between Jews and Gentiles was broken "/ub"".'"" down. The Church, standing by the shore of the great ^^¦ sea, on the furthest verge of the Jewish land, forgets the narrow traditions of the past, and turns her face to the wide open world. It was about ten years after "He , had overcome the sharpness of death," that the divine Head of the Church thus, in the fullest sense, " opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers." 32 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. CHAPTER II. ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHEISTIAN MISSIONS. A.D. 42 TO A.D. 100. PERIOD At the extreme north of the Syrian coast, about three hun- FiHST. ^j.g^ mUes from Jeru,salem, and twenty inland from the Me- Antioch. (Jiterranean shore, on the banks of the ancient Oront&s, — which here, wheeling round from its northerly course, sweeps in a south-westerly direction between lofty moun tain chains, through a wide and beautiful vaUey to the sea, — there stand a few poor habitations, buUt chiefly of wood and straw, and tenanted by a wretched population of some twelve or fifteen thousand souls. The place is desolate and soUtary, and bears the aspect of extreme poverty and dilapidation, — though a handsome bridge stiU nearly entire, the remains of a stately aqueduct, the ruins of extensive walls and towers, with here and there the fragment of a marble pavement or of sculptured stone, suggest the idea of ancient opulence and splendour. Fourteen mosques, crowned vdth the custoraary minaret, attest the devotion of the present population to the reUgion of the false prophet ; yet there stUl lingers on the spot the feeble remnant of another people, who meeting together for worship in a cavern bearing the name of the apostle John, faintly preserve the tradition of earUer and better times. The Christian name stiU, Uke a pale spectre, haunts the spot where the disciples were first called Christians, but where, alas ! long since everythinw else has perished but the name. Such is the faded semblance of what was once one of the most opulent and famous cities of the world — the queenly Antioch, the stately capital of Greek kings and Roman proconsuls, the city of Ignatius and Chrysostom, and the first ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 33 metropolitan and patriarchal centre of early Gentile Christendom. Eighteen centuries ago that gay metro polis was in the very zenith of its splendour and pride, and formed the seat of a community which, in point of population and general importance, was second only, and in some respects scarcely second, to that of Alex andria and Rome. Founded three hundred years before by Seleucus Nicator as the capital of his new Greek eastern empire, it started at once into a city of the first rank, and continued durmg succeeding centuries, both under its own kings and under the Roman proconsuls, to grow in extent and importance. One populous quarter after another sprung up around the original city. Splen did suburbs stretched out in every direction. Stately edifices in a half Greek, half Roraan style of architecture — baths, aqueducts, bridges, porticoes, palaces, teraples — arose in quick succession, and imparted an air of classic refineraent to a scene in other respects essentially Oriental. One magnificent street of four iniles length stretched across the city from east to west, and afforded a continuous colonnade through which sheltered crowds might walk from the one extremity to the other. A theatre, a race course, 'soft and sunny gardens, ministered to the amuse ment and pleasure of a coramunity which was araongst the most frivolous and licentious in the world. Above all the far-famed grove of Daphne, with its interiiiinable shades of myrtle and cypress embosoming the temple of Apollo, and watered by a thousandTills and streams from the surrounding hills, presented a perfect elysium of sen sual deUght, and had become the scene of an almost per petual festival qf vice. It is difficult to estimate precisely the size of, the population, but at the time of St. Paul it raust have nurabered considerably more than a hundred thousand, while at the period of its highest prosperity and fame it was calculated as high as four or five hun dred thousand. In position it was peculiarly fortunate. 3 CHAPTER' 34 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD It was essentially cosmopolitan. Alike in local situation, ¦TTRST. ^^^ ^^ historical and political circumstances, it was the natural meeting-place between the east and the west — between the old world and the new. It was a kind of eastern Rome, embracing in its population all kinds of people, and every variety of costume,, language, manners, within the limits of the iraperial sway. The Roman senator, the Greek rhetorician, the Chaldean astrologer, the Hebrew juggler, the Pagan augur, the Jewish rabbi, merchants from Rorae, Alexandria, Corinth, Arabia, Babylon, mingled together in the same society, and jostled each other in the same thoroughfares. Cla.ssic culture and Oriental forms of thought met each other face to face, and mutually acted and reacted upon each other. In fine, its extensive and world-wide commerce, flowing in on the one side through its sea-port Seleucia from all the countries of the Mediterranean, and on the other, by the caravan route behind the Lebanon, from those of the furthest east, raade it one of the busiest and most thriv ing marts of nations, and perhaps at this moment the most central point of intercourse and influence for the whole human race. Such was the spot selected in the all-wise arrangements of Providence to be the second starting-point of the young Church of Christ. What Jerusalera has been to Judea, Antioch is henceforth to be to the world. Here at length, in the very centre of the raass, was inserted at last the little handful of leaven, which was destined to vivify and to transform the , whole. The It was probably about the time when St. Peter was AnJiodi.** baptizing the family of Cornelius at Cffisarea, that in some upper chamber, in some retired and obscure street of this gay capital, a little company of disciples began to asserable together for common worship. At first they consisted entirely of Jews, — the fruit of the evangeUstic labours of ANTIOCH, AND TIIE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 35 some of those disciples who had fled from Jerusalem at chapter the time of Stephen's martyrdom, and who, as the sacred _^ annalist tells us, "went, every where preaching the word;" FmtGei)- but the same unseen hand which at Caesarea was leading cnurcii, the apostle of the circumcision in a path to him so unex- ¦^"' pected and so strange, was here also preparing the way for the wider propagation of the faith. Sorae fervent- hearted disciples recently arrived from Cyprus and Cyrene, urged forward, doubtless, by a divine irresistible impulse, were the first to break through the ancient barriers. "They spake unto the Grecians, preaching the Lord Jesus." The effect was imraediate and striking. " The hand of the Lord was with them, and a great number believed and turned unto the Lord." From that moment the infant congregation grew apace, and as converts from among the Gentile coraraunity flocked in, in greater and greater nurabers, assumed raore and more the aspect of an inde pendent religious society, distinct alike from the heathens and the Jews. It was, in fact, the first mixed congrega tion of Jews and Gentiles united together in one holy fellow.ship in Christ, and thus formed the germ of the whole Catholic Church throughout the world. .The new society, accordingly, demanded a new narae, and that name she received, as so often happens in such a case, not from herself, but from the world. "The disciples were caUed Christians first at Antioch," — in sneering ridicule, doubtless, at first on the part of those without, but soon in serious earnest alike by friends and by foes. It was, in truth, the raost appropriate and expressive name bj'^ which the new community could be designated. They are not now merely " disciples," or " brethren," or , " believers," or " saints," — names all indicating, not so much a new and independent community, as a particular class or sect of the old Jewish religion, — but Christians, followers of Christ, the anointed Prophet, Priest, and King of the human race, promised from of old, and sent 36 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD forth in the fulness of time, not to be the glory of Lsrael FIRST. ^]Qjjg^ |jy^ ^Q l^g £qj. salvation to all the ends of the earth. Thus, in a Gentile city, and by Gentile lips, was fir.st pronounced that name which most fitly designates the Church as a catholic and world-wide society, and whicli, however then obscure and despised, has since been bome in triuraph as a title of honour and glory through aU the earth. Another important step in the development of the divine purposes speedily followed. The course of Christianity is ever forward. Antioch, now the furthest point of its advance, anon becomes the starting-point and base of operations for an onward career of progress. She becoraes at once, from an advanced station, the mother Church and grand centre of missionary activity and enterprise for the world. She becomes for those early days what Rome was in the middle ages, and what London and New York are at the present day. It was probably The first four Or five years after the full establishment ofthe An tiochean congregation, and when its numbere had been largely increased, and its constitution consolidated by apostolic hands, that in a solemn assembly of the Church, the Lord himself gave the word for the commencement of the work. " As they ministered unto the Lord, and fasted, the Holy Ghost said. Separate me Barnabas and Saul for the work whereunto I have called them. And when they had fasted and prayed, and laid their hands on them, they sent them away. So they, being sent forth by the Holy Ghost, departed unto Seleucia ; and from thence they sailed to Cyprus." Thus at last was that goodly vessel fairly launched on the open sea of the world. Quitting for ever the narrow stream of Jewish tradition and national exclusiveness, and even the wider, but still enclosed estuary of Gentile proselytism, she bravely turns her face to the boundless main, and trusting to the sole guidance of her heavenly pilot, commits herself to tho winds and the waves. oiisslon. ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 37 In this grand missionary movement the great apostle chapter of the Gentiles leads the way.^ Again and again during "" the twenty succeeding years did he go forth from this st paui mother church, with his little band of missionarj'- attend ants and followers, and again returns — every time after a wider and stiU wider sweep of victorious progress. First, he traverses in a rapid and, as it were, experi- First; jom- mental circuit, only the nearer provinces of Asia Minor, ^f' *"' and retums, after a brief absence, to Antioch to report the success of this flrst commencement " of the work. Next, he takes a wider flight — advancing by rapid stages second through Cilicia, Lycaonia, Galatia, to the furthest ex-^^if' tremity of Asia — thence, beckoned onwards by a heavenly vision, crossingthe-^gean waters, and successfully preaching the cross in the chief cities of the adjacent European coast. On his third progress he plants himself at once at Ephesus Third as his head quarters — establishes the gospel both in that l^D™f' city and in the surrounding regions of Asia, resumes and extends his former operations in Macedonia and Greece, skirts the distant province of lUyricum, and casts his eagle eye towards Rome, which he has determined yet to see. Meanwhile the standard of the Cross has been already unfurled, and numerous and prosperous Churches founded in almost every leading city of the Roman world — in Ephesus, in Philippi, in Thessalonica, in Athens, in Corinth. At last his final and most ardent wish is granted. He did see Rome, but in a character and in a Fourth way which he little expected. He entered its imperial ^^""/(f' gates, not as a free apostle, but as an ambassador in bonds. But the sarae Lord who had been with him from the first, and had always led him along in the train of his triumph, did not desert him now. Though held in At Eome, restraint, under the guardianship of a Roraan soldier who kept him, he was permitted to receive, at his own hired house, all who came to him ; and thus quietly and unob- ' See Appendix— Ch7-cmological Table of the Life of St. Paid. 38 ANTIOCH, AND TIIE FIRST CHIUSTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD trusively to prosecute his Master's work. The things that FIRST, jjappened unto him turned out rather unto the further ance of the gospel, and never perhaps did Me reap a richer harvest of souls than with that chained hand. And now his work was done. Having carried forward the standard of the 'faith from the far east to the imperial capital of the world, and planted it on its highest towers, there was little more for his great soul to desire or hope for on earth. After two years, the period of his light captivity closed, either, as most historians believe, by his tem porary liberation, or by his more rigorous imprisonment, previous to his final trial. In either case, he was " now ready to be offered, and the time of his depar- jiartyrcd, tuTc was at hand." So he finished his course with joy, and the ministry which he had received of the Lord Jesus — dying, as unanimous tradition testifies, a glorious martyr's death for the cause for which alone he had Uved for thirty yeare, probably about the year of our era 68. He was carried by devout men to his burial, probably in some of the subterranean vaults or catacombs beneath the city, and it is supposed that his sacred dust reposes near that quiet spot now occupied bj'^ the EngUsh ceme tery, outside the Ostian gate. st Peter. McauwhUc that other apostle, the rash, impetuous, self- sufficient, but noble-hearted Peter, whose narae must be for ever associated with his, has for a long time passed into the shade. The great and prominent actor in aU the early scenes of the Cfturch's progress, he drops all at once, after the momentous incident at Caesarea, out of sight. From that time we have scarce any trace of his labours, either in the Scripture annals or in authentic tradition. The only clue to the course t)f his life and labours is derived from the opening and the closino- words of his first epistle. From the former we gather that he had some pastoral connection, probably from personal AHTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 39 labours among them, with the Jewish Christians through- i out Asia Minor ; from the latter^ many have inferred that he had extended his missionary laboure among the Jews of the dispei-sion eastward, as far as Parthia and Baby lonia, where we know, from other sources, a numerous Jewish community had long since existed. The last con clusion, of course, rests on the assumption, in some degree doubtful, though adopted by many of the ablest critics, that the word Babjdon is used there in its ordinary literal sense for the old Chaldean capital, and not in its mystic, symboUc sense, as a figurative designation of Rome. Were this latter interpretation proved to be the true one, it would establish one point, and one onlj', with regard to the apostle's connection with Rome, namely, that he was in that city at the time this epistle was written. It is certain, however, that if he was at Rome, he was not there long." The Romish tradition that he spent a large portion of his life there, and occupied its epis copal see for twenty-five yeai"s preceding his mai'tyrdom, is simply a baseless fiction, contradicted by every fact we know of his histoiy, and by all the probabilities of the case. Had he resided statedly there at the time alleged, much more had he held the place of chief authority in its Church for years, we must have had some traces of the fact in the Acts of the Apostles, in some of the nuraerous epistles of St. Paul written to and from that city, or in that of his contempoiuiy Clement, written fi-om the same place, and still extant. The silence of all these authorities in regard to a fact so interesting and important, is of itself the most decisive proof of the opposite. There seems to us, how evei", no sufficient reason to caU in question the very early and unanimous tradition that he did pay a visit, though it must have been a very short one, to the im perial city, and that here he suffered martyrdom dm-ing i " The church that is at Babylon, elected together with you, saluteth you" (1 Pet. T. 13). " See Appendix— iSJ. Peier at Rome. 40 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD the same persecution and about the sarae time with St. piKST. Pj^ijJ^ being crucified, as the legend runs, with his head downwards. St John. With the names of Paul and Peter we unavoidably associate that of John. As a historical group they stand The three aloue, as Confessedly the three grandest characters and apostles, most influential actors in the early Christian Church. In the character of their minds, too, and in their religious tendencies, they are intiihately related — forming, as it were, mutual complements to each other. Paul is the apostle of faith; Peter, of hope; John, oflove. Paul is the man of thought; Peter, of action; John, of contem plation and meditative repose. Paul is the great preacher; Peter, the great ecclesiastic ; John, the great divine. The course of this last apostle's life was in a manner symboli cal of his distinctive spiritual bent. As love itself suff'er- eth long, and patiently, and unweariedly toils, so it was ordained that the apostle of love should endure the longest alike in suffering and in labour, lingering on in the vine yard long after all the rest had gone, even to the last hour of the apostolic day. As we hear little of Peter's labours during the closing years of his life, so we hear little of John's during the earlier. The one apostle seems just entering on his work, when the other is quitting the field. We catch a glimpse of him, indeed, now and then in the opening chapters of the Acts, but it is as of one that is rather the companion only, than the energetic fellow-actor of the raore forward and impetuous Peter. He seems as if to walk behind, in mysterious silence, as one who was only waiting his time, and slowly ripening for his great work, than having already entered on it. Immediately, however, after the death of his two Ulustrious colleagues he emerges out of the shadow, and becomes, at once and ever afterwards until his death, the central personage of the early Church History. ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 41 The chief sphere of his apostolic labours was Asia chapter Minor, whose numerous and thriving Churches, planted f^ and till now sedulously watered by the illustrious Apostle of the Gentiles, were bereft of his pastoral care at the very time they needed it most. Those germs of corrup tion and insidious heresy against which that faithful watchman had sounded the alarm some years before, were now growing rank and rife on every side, and de manded the presence both of a strong and a gentle hand to check and restrain the spreading evU. Two distinct E^ny strearas of heretical tendency, setting in from quarters directly opposite to one another, were each equally hostUe to the most fundamental and essential principles of the faith. On the one side, a stiff, carnal, pharisaic legalism, bred of the synagogue, and waxing only the more intense in its fanatic bigotry in proportion as its old national life was passing away — zealous for the law, doting on forms, clamorous for circumcision and work-righteous ness — transformed the gospel of Christ into a system, little better than a baptized Judaism, and degraded the divine Word made flesh into a mere teacher sent frora God, like Moses or Elijah of old. This was the virulent and ever-restless antagonist of the great Apostle of the Gentiles — following him everywhere as his shadow, and starting up as "an adversary to resist him" in every field of his evangelistic labours, but which survived long after his day, and, under the narae of Ebionism, con tinued its baneful influence far down into the next century.^ On the other side, a spirit of prurient specu lation, proceeding chiefly from the eclectic schools of Alexandria, sought to blend the chief elements of the Oriental and Greek philosophy with the truths of the ' A mongst these there would appear from the first to have been a more and a less extreme party, the latter of whom, while themselves practising the law, did not seek to impose it upon others, and who recognised raore or less clearly the divine glory of Christ. These were in the next age generally distinguished as Nazarenes, in contradistinction from the Ebionites, who carried the Judaizing tendency to the full length described in the text. 42 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD Christian faith, and thus gave birth to a host of airy f^rst. theories, in which every saving fact and doctrine was evaporated into mystic, ideal dreams. This is the " science falsely so called," against which the apostle so earnestly lifts his voice in some of his later writings. Dositheus, Simon Magus,^ Menander, and especiaUy, in the last years of St John's ministry, Cerinthus,^ were the first pioneers of a system which, in the next century, under the name of Gnosticism, fascinated and seduced some of the first minds of the age, and formed the great anta- gomst of the simple doctrine of the Cross. Widely different in other respects, these two heretical tendencies were in one point agreed. They were both equally hostile to the most -^dtal article of the faith — the incar nation of the Eternal Word. The Jud^sts denied or ignored his divinity ; the Gnostics mystified and explained away his humanity. The one brought down the reUgion of heaven to the level of earth; the other sublimed it away into moonshine and thin air. .Against both alike was a powerful voice required, to proclaim anew the divine saving verity — simple, yet profound, high as heaven, yet lowly as earth — that " Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is come in the flesh." This was the grand work of John. For that task the aged apostle of love was alike by nature and grace pecuUarly adapted. Gentle, yet uncompromising — calm yet fervent — tender as a dove, yet bold as a lion — at once the disciple of love and the son of thunder — his was precisely the cha racter the best fitted at once to conciliate and to over awe ; while his venerable age, and his pecuUar pcsition as the alone surviving raeraber of the apostolic band, threw around his person a kind of saci-ed mystery', and imparted a singular weight to his words. Thus, armed alike with apostoUc authority and with per- ' See Appendix— //errfi'cs of tlte Apostolic Age, ^ See Appendix — Gnostic Sects and Tcacliers. ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 43 sonal respect, he succeeded to the place of his martyred chapter brother, and for thirty continuous years of laborious and Ji_ loving ministry reigned in the afi'ection, the confidence, and veneration of the Church. Ancient tradition and Anccdo'es legend abound -with tales of his pastoral dUigence and ''^^'' ''''''"' fideUty, some of which are so touchinglj'' characteristic that they may almost be said to bear the unmistakable stamp of truth. One ofthe most beautiful of these narra tives is attested by the authority of Clement of Alexandria. " Listeil," says he, " to a story that is no fiction, but a real history, handed down and carefuUy preserved, respect ing the apostle John. For after the tjn-ant was dead, coming from the isle of Patmos to Ephesits, he went also, when called, to the neighbouring regions ofthe Gentiles, — in some to appoint bishops, in some to institute entire new Churches, in others to appoint to the ministry some one of those that were pointed out by the Holy Ghost. When he came,, therefore, to one of those cities at no great dis tance, of which some also give the name, and had in other respects consoled his brethren, he at last turned towards the bishop ordained (appointed), and seeing a youth of fine stature, graceful countenance, and ardent mind, he said, ' Him I coraraend to you with all earnest ness,, in the presence of the Church and of Christ.' The bishop, having taken him and promised aU, he repeated and testified the same thing, and then returned to Ephesus. The bishop, taking home the youth that was committed to him, educated, restrained, and cherished him, and at length baptized him. After this, he relaxed exercising his former care and vigUance, as if he had now committed him to a perfect safeguard in the seal of the Lord. But certain idle, dissolute fellows, familiar with every kind of wickedness, unhappUy attaching themselves to him, thus prematurely freed from restraint. At first they lead him on by expen.sive entertainments. Then going out at night to plunder, they take him with them. Next, they, en- 44 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD courage him to something greater; and, gradually becom- piRST. jjjg accustomed to their ways, in his enterprising spirit, like an unbridled and powerful steed that has struck out of the right way, biting the curb, he rushed with so much the greater impetuosity towards the precipice. At length, renouncing the salvation of God, he contemplated no trifling offence, but having committed some great crime, since he was now once ruined, he expected to suffer equally with the rest. Taking, therefore, these same associates, and forming them into a band of robbers, he became their captain, surpassing them all in violence, blood, and cruelty. Time elapsed, and on a certain occa sion they send for John. The apostle, after appointing those other matters for which he came, said, ' Come, bishop, return me my deposit, which I and Christ com mitted to thee in the presence of the Church over which thou dost preside.' The bishop at first, indeed, was con founded, thinking that he was insidiously charged for raoney which he had not received; and j'et he could neither give credit respecting that which he had not, nor yet disbelieve John. But when he said, ' I demand the young man, and the soul of a brother,' the old man, groaning heavily, and also weeping, said, ' He is dead.' ' How, and what death V ' He is dead to God,' said he. ' He has turned out wicked and abandoned, and at last a robber ; and now, instead of the Church, he has beset the mountain with a band like himseK' The apostle, on hearing this, tore his garment, and, beating his head, with great lamentation said, ' I left a fine keeper of a brother's soul ! But let a horse now be got ready, and some one to guide me on my way.' He rode as he was, away from the church, and coming into the country, was taken pris oner by the outguard of the banditti He neither at tempted, however, to flee, nor refused to be taken ; but cried out, ' For this very purpose am I come ; conduct me to your captain.' He, in the meantime, stood waiting, ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 45 armed as he was ; but, as he recognised John advancing chapter towards him, overcome with shame he turned about to _!i_ flee. The apostle, however, pursued him with all his might, forgetful of his age, and crying out, ' Why dost thou fly, my son, from me, thy father — thy defenceles.s, aged father ? Have compassion on rae, my son. Fear not. Thou still hast hope of life. I will intercede with Christ for thee. Should it be necessary, I will cheerfuUy suffer death for thee, as Christ for us. I will give my life for thine. Stay ! believe Christ hath sent me.' Hearing this, he at flrst stopped with downcast looks ; then threw away his arms ; then, trembling, lamented bitterly, and embracing the old man as he came up, attempted to plead for hiraself with his lamentations, as much as he was able ; as if baptized a second time with his own tears, and only concealing his right hand. But the apostle pledging himself, and solemnly assuring hira that he had found pardon for hjm in his prayers at the hands of Christ, praying on his bended knees, and kissing his right hand as cleansjed from all iniquity, conducted him back again to the church. Then supplicating with freque^nt prayers, contending with constant fastings, and softening down his mind with various consolatory declara tions, he did not leave him, as it is said, until he had restored hira to the Church."^ — So weU had he learned on the bosora of Christ the spirit of Him who leaveth the ninety and nine and goeth after the lost one until he find it. Another incident, perhaps equally well authenticated, reveals rather the character of the Boanerges than the son of consolation. Going into a public bath one day, and finding the heretic Cerinthus there before him, he immediately retired, exclaiming, " Let us flee from this place, lest the bath should fall while the enemy of the truth is within it." Another touching incident is famiUar to 1 From Quis dives sit salvus? as quoted by Eusebius. 46 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. PERIOD every one. When now infirm with age and unable to FIRST, .^g^ijj.^ j-^g .^g^g accustomcd to be carried into the church by his disciples, and stretching out his hand, feebly whispered, " Little children, love one another," and then retired. Such was his gentle fareweU to the Church below, ere his pure and loving spirit pas.sed into the sanctuary above ; and so at last that faithful shepherd of souls fell asleep on the bosom of his Lord, with his pastoral staff still in his hand, in the reign of Trajan, about the close of the first century of the Christian era, and at the age of up wards of ninety years. A misunderstanding of the Saviour's mysterious words, '• If I will that he tarry tiU I come, what is that to thee?" gave rise to the significant legend that John did not die at all, but is only slumbering, moving the grave-mound with his breath till the final return of the Lord. The fond fiction, if not true of himself, is surely so at lea.st of his writings, by which " he being dead yet speaketh," and wields an undjring influence in the world from age to age, — feeding still afresh the lamp of love, perpetuating in the hearts of Christians the divine iraage of their Lord, and drawing forth ever anew the fervent response, "Even so, come, Lord Jesus," till the day bi-eak and the shadows flee away. Tho otlier Meanwhile, the other apostles and evangelists of the Lord Jesus were not idle, and all history testifies that the reraotest climes were traversed and made to resound with the tidings of joy. The accounts, indeed, which have come down to us on the wings of tradition and brief passing aUusion are vague and imperfect, Uke the rumours of a battle stricken far away amid strange scenes and peoples; still there is enough to assure us of the fact of a great struggle going on everywhere between the , powers of light and darkness. Thus, Thomas is said to have preached the gospel in Parthia; Andrew in Scythia; ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. 47 Bartholomew in India ; and John Mark in Alexandria, chapter But these are only a few of the great company of 2L- preachers, whose names and scenes of labour are long forgotten, and shall remain unknown until the revelations ofthe great day. In the meanwhile the mother Church of Jerusalem still continued to live and flourish in the midst of afflic tion and raartyrdom, under the pastoral care of James, " the brother of the Lord," ^ who, after the departure of Peter, succeeded to the chief place of authority and influ ence there. A general respect gathered round the person of one, on other accounts so venerable, who was conspicuous alike for faith and probity, 'and procured for him the honourable title of the " Just." At once a true Jew and a fervent believer, he was of all men the best fitted to preside in a community of Jews -who had but just " found the Messiah," and gently to guide the transition from the bondage of the law to the liberty of the gospel. He ruled the Church with wisdora and fidelity, until an out burst of Jewish fanaticism called hira to the martyr's crown about the year A.D. 62. He was hurled from the pinnacle of the Temple, stoned, and then despatched by a blow of a tanner's club, while praying, like his Master, " Father, forgive them ; for they know not what they do." So mightily grew the word of God and prevaUed. A mysterious influence everywhere attended the preaching of the new religion. Their words were with power, and like sparks from heaven kindled and burned in the hearts of men. The hand of the Lord went with them, and great multitudes believed and turned unto the Lord. The wonder of Pentecost, that great spiritual resurrection, was but an example of what took place, on a greater or lesser scale, wherever the Uving doctrine spread. Old systems ' Whether the same person as James the Less, the son of Alpheus and cousin of Jesus, is a question still undecided, and forms one of the most difficult problems iir'New Testament History. 48 ANTIOCH, AND THE FIRST CHRISTIAN MISSIONS. period and superstitions crumbled before it, and, more wonderful FresT. gj.j^2^ sinners forsook their sins and turned in repentance and newness of life to God. Thus grew and triumphed the young Church of Christ, tiU befoi'e the first genera tion had passed — the last hoary apostle fallen asleep — there was scarcely a nation of the then known world where the joyful sound had not been published, and where it had not won its trophies of grace. A new life had been breathed upon the nations, and the dry bones throughout the wide valley of the world began to stir and move with the breath of God. THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 4a CHAPTER IIL THE CHUECH AT THE CLOSE OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. A.D. 101. It is the year 1 01 of the Christian era. The last of the chapter apostles is just dead. The rich evening radiance which '- in his solitary ministry had for thirty years lingered on the eartii when all his companions were gone, has at last passed away, and the dark night settles down again. The age of inspiration is over, — that peerless century which began with the birth of Christ, and closed with the death of John — and the course of the ages de scends once more to the ordinary level of common time. It was with the Church now as with the disciples at Bethany, when the last gleam of the Saviour's ascending train had passed from their sight, and they turned their faces, reluctant and sad, to the dark world again. The termination of the age of inspiration was in truth the very complement and consummation of the ascension of the Lord. The sun can then only be said to have fairly set, when his departing glory has died &yr&y from the horizon, and the chill stars shine out sharp and clear on the dun and naked sky. That time has now fuUy come. The last gleam of in spired wisdom and truth vanished from the earth with the beloved apostle's gentle farewell, and we pass at once across the mysterious line which separates the sacred from the secular annals of the world, — the history of the apos tolic age from the history of the Christian Church. It was indeed a drearj^ prospect that stretched out be fore the eye of the Church in those first days of her loneli ness and widowhood. The world was very ,dark. Superstition, unbeUef, moral corruption, social and poli- 50 THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE period tical degradation prevailed eveiywhere. The black and ^if!!' starless night of heathenism was scarcely broken, but rather, as it seemed, rendered more terribly visible by the new light that had entered the world. The kingdom of heaven had indeed been proclaimed, but tbe kingdom of the devil stiU held sway in aU its frowning strength, and defied aU assault. Even that which was raost sound and healthful in the old heathen religion had passed away, and with it the last bands that held society and the moral system of the world together. Faith, even heathen faith, had left the world. The old gods were dead, and no new and Uving God had come to take their place. The twin demons of fanatic superstition and cold scoffing scepticism divide the world between them. Ancient liberty, family purity, manly courage, female honour, mutual faith between man and man, public spirit, and national patriotism,— all are gone, and have given place to a wUd carnival of epicurean licentiousness, in which nothing is heard but the universal cry, " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."^ In one respect, indeed, the times have changed for the better since the days of Peter and of Paul. The iron sceptre of Rome has passed from the grasp of the vile Nero to the wiser and juster hand of Trajan; but the Ro man empire itself remains unchanged, and can be regarded only by Christian eyes as a power essentially evil and god less, — the very embodiment and practical realization of that kingdom of darkness whioh their Master had come to de stroy. And yet a hundred years after his advent it stiU reraains, apparently as strong and enduring as ever. For a while, indeed, the Church, in the expectation of the almost immediate return of her Lord, had borne patiently with the brief continuance, meanwhile, of the reign of evil; but that expectation has now passed away. The world, it has become manifest, is to have a longer lease of ' We speak, of course, generally. Even in those days there were noble excep tions, e. g. Agricola, Tacitus, &c. OF TEE APOSTOLIC AGE. 51 life, and the devU and the devil's power are still, to aU chapter appearance, to reign over it. Still the Church is not '"• without heart or hope. Strong in the faith of her Master and in her own divine commission and caU, she goes forth bravely to her work. She may not be able, indeed, to save the world, but she wiU save a people out of the world. The world may go to pieces and sink to the bottom — she almost believes that it wUl do so ; but she hopes to rescue thousands of perishing souls from the wreck, and gather them into that sure Ark of Refuge which she knows wiU ride out the storm. So she looks forth to the world, as Paul before looked toward Rome, aUke in word and in deed declaring, " I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile." Before entering on the detail of her struggles and labours, let us here pause and take a brief survey of her present position as regards at once her outward progress and her internal state. The great highway and main thoroughfare of the Extent o( world in those days was the Mediterranean Sea. It was ^^ to the old world what the Atlantic is to the new, — the grand central artery of its life, inteUectual, social, commercial. .Around it, as around the main street or mar ket-place of a populous city, were situated all the leading centres of human intercourse and activity. At the eastern extremity were Jerusalem and Antioch, the two earliest starting-points of religious enlightenment and progress, the one for the Jews and the other for the GentUes. A little to the westward, on the south side of the great thorough fare, sat the queenly Alexandria, undisputed mistress in those days of the arts and sciences of the world, with her famed museum, and library, and philosophical schools, and endless questions and speculations on all the mysteries of 52 THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE PERIOD being human and divine ; opposite on the north, and FIRST, ranged around a narrow but bright and busy side street, are such iUustrious names as Ephesus, and PhiUppi, and Athens, and Corinth. Last of all, and far to the west, is Rome herself, the centre of law and government, the citadel, the councU chamber, and the forum of the great city of man. It was witliin this sphere, accordingly, that Christianity made her first progress, and won her first triumphs, advancing, like the course of human his tory generally, from west to east, according to the course of the sun. Already, at the time of which we are speak ing, she had firmly established herself at each of the leading centres of influence and inteUigence which we have enumerated. In each of them ,she had a flourishing and rapidly-extending Christian coraraunity. Thus the extent of Christendom, as regards the mere area of its propagation, might be said ah-eady to be conterminous with the chief parts of the Roman empire and the civilized world. Its Numerical actual Strength, however, numerical and social, considered hnpo'i™''^ relatively, in the empire or in any particular community is *"'^°- another a,nd more difficult question. It may have been in aU the world, and yet have formed a very smaU part of the world ; scattered over all the nations, and yet almost entirely lost and unnoticed among them. This was, in point of fact, in large measure, the casse. It was mainly confined to the cities and larger towns. These, at aU times the great centres and pioneers of the world's pro gress, were so in those early days even more than now. In our days, the city is rauch ; in ancient times, it was almost everything. There alone were the elements of knowledge, civU liberty, or healthful social life of any kind. The dense ignorance and moral debasement of the rural population, their unacquaintance with any other language but their own barbarous native speech, together with the difficulty and the danger of travelUng anywhere apart from the great lines of communication, presented an OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 63 almost insuperable obstacle to the entrance of new ideas, chapter and to improvement and progress of every kind. In that ^^ deadly choke-damp every light of knowledge and philo sophy was quenched in darkness. Hence, in the apostoUc age, the first and chief attention of the Christian evan geUsts was fixed on the cities. Paul pressed on straight from Troas to Philippi, from PhiUppi to Thessalonica and Berea, and from Berea to Athens, without apparently halting for a day in any of the regions between. Thus, at this time, and for long afterwards, the cities, like moun tain peaks, had caught the light of the rising sun, whUe all the world besides lay deep in shadow. Even in the days of the Christian empire, the names " villager" and " heathen" were still synonymous terms, from the tenacious . adherence of the rustic population to the religion of their forefathers. This, however, was not universal. Even to that unkindly soil we know that some seeds of truth had been thus early borne, and had yielded precious fruit. The messengers of the cross found their way, Where no ameliorating influences, whether of education or philo sophy, had ever come before. Thus, Pliny tells us that in the province of Bithynia, of which he was governor under Trajan, " this contagious superstition " as he calls the Christian faith, " is not confined to the cities, but had spread its infection among the country villages." The sarae thing was, no' doubt, true to some extent in other provinces. This, however, was the exception. The general rule in those districts stUl was that darkness covered the land, and gToss darkness the people. Even in the cities themselves, at this period, the numerical strength and social importance of the Christian community was not great. "Not many wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble had been called." The great bulk of the Churches now, and for years after, were coraposed of the poorest and meanest of the people, — slaves, artizans, and women; and even their nuraber 6 54 THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE TERioD formed in most communities, and especially in the largest F^RST. g^j^^ wealthiest, but an inconsiderable proportion of the general population. The new faith had scarcely as yet raade its presence felt in the empire, even as an important sect. You might have visited Corinth or Uved in Rome, even in the days of St. Paul, and perhaps never have heard his name or learned the existence of Churches which he founded and fed. The learned Roman historian Suetonius, who lived during this period, knew so Uttle about the subject that, confounding the Christians with the Jews, and mistaking the very name of their divine Master, he could write of " Claudius expeUing the Jews from Rome, who had constantly been raising disturbances at the instigation of one Chrestus."^ To such an extent was it stiU true that the true Light had come into the world, but the world knew him not! constitu- The constitution and organization of the early Churches organiza- was vcry simple. FoUowing the precedents of the Jew- tion. jgjj synagogue, which, in most instances, formed their cradle, they had a president or chief ruler, and a council . of presbyters, to whom were committed the general govern ment of the society, and the regulation and conduct of public worship.^ To these were added a body of inferior ministers, or "deacons," male and female, with a view speciaUy to the care of the poor, and the " outward busi ness of the house of God." But the strength of the Churches lay not so much in their officers or form of polity, as in the members. Their life was emphatically social. Their unity was a unity, not of mechanical arrangement, but of Ufe — not of artificial restraint, but of spontaneous sympathy and love. Christians had but one Master, even Christ, and all they were brethren. It was so altogether in theory, and in great measure also still in practice. Every ^ Impulsore Chresto assidue tumultuantes Boma expulit. We proceed on the common supposition— piob-able, though not certain— that Chrestus here refers to Christ. " See Appendix— Pci'mau'e Form of Church Govei-nment. OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. , 55 one had his own place and his own work, according to chapter the different gifts aUotted to each by the great Master, i!!l aud the general well-being and edifying of the whole body was the result of the free and willing co-operation of aU. As to the form of worship in those early Christian congregations, it was in its raain elements identical with that which is comraon to the Protestant Churches of our day. The chief peculiar features were their assembUng fo™ of in private houses and upper chambers, their celebration ^""""p- of the Eucharist at eventide, the common brotherly meal, or love-feast;^ and the free scope then allowed to the exer cise in the congregation of the extraordinary gifts of the Spirit bestowed on individual raembers. Another touching custom too, which lingered long afterwards in the Church, bespeaks at once the tender loving spirit and the Oriental origin of the faith. In raoraents of soleran communion brother saluted brother, and sister saluted sister, in a holy embrace and kiss. Special circumstances often imparted a peculiar significancy and pathos to the rite. When a new convert was received after the sacred bath into the full communion of the faithful; when a brother or sister about to set out on a distant journey said fareweU, or a stranger from some far country produced his letters of commendation,^ and was straightway welcoraed as a brother ; above all in suffering days, when any parting might be the last until the great final meeting, and familiar friends who had taken sweet counsel together in happier days hung long upon each other's necks and wept, the "holy kiss" must have been something more than a picturesque and touching form. In other respects the primitive service was essentiaUy Uke our own. There was the regular reading of the Scriptures, both of the Old and of the New Testament, according to a certain 1 See Appendix — The Love Feast. ^ Literse formatse — y/ja/A/iara rervn-uj^eVa. 56 TIIE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE PEnioD order ; there was the united offering of solemn prayer, MRBi'. ^ which the people responded with the loud Amen ; there was the sacred supper, the preaching of the word, and the common song of praise. Of the form and manner of celebrating the Lord's sup per at this period, we have authentic evidence in the writings of Justin Martyr, who wrote a short time after, and whose statements are in entire harmony with the accounts of the original institution in the New Testament. " After the prayers,'' says he, " we greet one another with the brotherly kiss. Then bread and a cup with water and wine are handed to the president of the brethren. He receives them, and offers praise, glory, and thanks to the Father of all, through the name of the Son and the Holy Ghost, for these his gifts. When he has ended the prayers and thanksgivings, the whole congre gation respond, Amen; for araen in the Hebrew tongue means, Be it so. Upon this the deacons, as we caU them, give to each of those present some of the blessed bread and of the wine raixed with water, and carry it to the absent in their dwellings.'' Psaimoiiy Of the psalmody of those early days some interesting snatches have descended to our own days. The foUow ing, for instance, is one which probably belongs to the earliest dawn of the post-apostoUc Church, and which has been supposed by some to be the identical " hymn sung to Christ as God," referred to by the younger Pliny ' as one of the most characteristic features of the Christian worship V — " GI017 be to God on high. And on earth peace, good-will anumg men: We praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee. We give tlmnks unto tlieefor thy great glory : 0 Lord, Heavenly King, Qod the Father Almighty, Lord Ood. ' See Pliny's Letter to Trajan, in Appendix. OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 57 0 Lord, the only-begotten Son, .chapter Jesv,s Christ; iii. Thou that takest away the sins ofthe world, ' Have mercy upon us. Thou that takest away the sins of the world, Save mercy upon us, receive mir prayer. Thou that sittest on the right hand of the Fatlier, Save inercy upon us. For tliou only art holy, Tlwu, only art the Lord, Jesus Christ, To the glory of God the Father. Am.en." Perhaps still more touching and characteristic in its childlike siraplicity is the following, entitled, "The Morn ing Psalm," and consisting- merely of a breathing of prayer between two psalm verses: — " Every day wiU I bless thee, A nd L vrill praise thy name for ever and ever. Vouchsafe, 0 Lord, to keep us this day without sin, Messed art thou, 0 Lord God of our Fathers, And thy name he praised and glorified for ever and ever. Amen." To which we have a companion. evening psalm of the like tone and spirit: — " Blessed art thou, 0 God ; teach me thy statutes ; , jM-d, thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations. I said, Lord be merciful unto me. Seal mv soul, for I have simied again,st thee ; Lord I flee unto tliee, to hide me." Amen. To these we may probably add, as genuine fragments of the primitive hymnology, the inspired songs of Mary, of Zachariah, and of Siraeon in the Gospel of St. Luke, together with some other relics of sacred psalmody which have been preserved, as it has been thought, in quotations in the apostolic writings. The foUowing, for example, independently of the introductorj' formula indi- 68 THE CHURCH AT THE GLOSE PERIOD eating the quotation of familiar words, has aU the FIRST. j.}jy^;ijj^ a^jjfj cadence of a true lyrical composition : — " It is a faithful saying : For if we be dead with him, We shall also live with him; If we suflFer with him, We shall also reign with him ; If we deny him, Se also will deny us: If we believe not, yet he abideth faithful ; Se cannot deny himself" (2 .Tim. ii. 11).^ And this: — " God was manifest in the flesh. Justified in the Spirit, Seen of angels. Preached unto the Gentiles, BeHeved on in the world. Received up into glory" (1 Tim. iii. 16).^ And once more: — " Unto him that loved us, And washed us from cur sins in his own blood. And hath made us kings and priests unto God, And his Ji'ather ; To him be glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen" (Itev. i. 5, 6). Let US conceive ourselves listening to such strains as these, sung in unison to some old Jewish chant, in antiphonal response, and we shall probably catch the very echoes of that pure apostolic worship that resounded of old amid the glow and the tears of first love, in the workshop of Aquila, or the upper room at Troas. Preaching. Of the prcachlng of those days we shaU probably form the best idea from the extant specimens of those apos tolic discourses, which were doubtless the model of all ^ The rhythmical cadence of these words will be better recognised in the Greek original. ' See Conybeare and Howson, in loco. OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 59 others, both in the first age and in that which imme- chapter diately succeeded it; as that of 'Peter at Pentecost, i^ Stephen in the synagogue of the Libertines, and of Paul at Antioch of Pisidia. Their character, as in the case of similar addresses now, must no doubt have greatly varied according to circumstances, and the character and religious attainments of those to whom they were addressed. It must have been now didactic, now hortatory; now ele mentary, now profound; now simple, now erudite; now gentle and persuasive, now full of fire and passion. It was one thing at Jerusalem, another at Athens, and again another at Corinth or at Rome. It was one thing to Gentiles, another to Jews, another to Christians ; the Christian evangelist became aU things to all men, if by any < raeans he might save some. Generally, however, we raaj^ say that it was more historical and less doctrinal than thepreachingof modern times. The businessof the preacher in most cases was not so much to discuss the doctrine, as to tell the story, of the Cross. The whole teaching of the Church, as well as the whole life of the Christian, revolved around the person and history of Jesus. That was the central Sun that vivified and iUumined all. The preach ing of the gospel was simply and Uterally the preaching of Christ ; the proclaiming in the ears of a dying world all. that the preacher knew of him who was the world's only life and hope. It was not a chain of principles, but a recital of facts ; of facts which bodied forth before men's eyes the living Saviour, and thus enabled them so to " see the Son" that they might believe in him and live. It was especially necessary in those early days that preaching should assume this historical form. There were then no printed Bibles in raen's hands, no portable summaries of Christian truth from which, apart from the living voice, men might learn the elements of the gospel history ; only here and there a solitary raanuscript of some single Gospel or Epistle in the hands ofthe Church period FIRST. eo. . THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE authorities, or of some wealthy member who could afford to purchase the precious treasure at a great price. If any progress, therefore, was to be made at all, the preacher must begin at the beginning, and, not only once for all, but again and again reiterate the primary facts of the redemption of God.' It was thus that the apostle Paul preached, as he himself teUs us, — ^"Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and wherein ye stand ; by which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain. For I delivered unto you first of aU that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day, according to the Scriptures" (1 Cor. XV. 1-4 ; corap. 1 Cor. ii. 1). His entire ministry, so far as it was evangelistic at least, must have consisted very much in the simple fiUing up of these great historic heads. The Redeemer's incarna tion and birth, his baptism and temptation, his holy life, his victorious death, his glorious resurrection and ascen sion, his sending of the Holy Ghost, and his future second coming, — these with all their manifold relations to ancient prophecy, to the soul's wants and sins, and to human life and action, constituted in his view " the gospel," wliich he lived to preach, and for which he was content to die. Of the general form and order in which those early preachers told that history of wonders, we may form pro bably the best idea from the mould in which the whole is cast in the three first Gospels, which have not improbably been regarded as inspired summaries of the preaching of the earliest evangelists. In entire accordance -with this view, one general plan or order of arrangement, half chronological, half topical, adapted to the purposes of clear conception and easy reraembrance, seeras to lie at the bottom of them all, and may be reduced to the following OF THE APOSTOLIC A GE. 61 five heads: — ^I. The Redeemer's bu-th and early years, chapter and especiaUy his annunciation and baptism by the fore- ^ runner. II. His opening ministry and rairacles in the neighbourhood of his Galilsean home, and especially in the district bordering on the sea of Gennesaret. III. His wider ministry in the regions lying between Jerusalem and Galilee, in the course of his journeys to and frora the holy city at festal seasons. IV. His ministry at Jeru salem itself, especially at his last passover, and in the imraediate prospect of his passion ; and, V. His death, burial, resurrection, and ascension to the right hand of God. If we accept this view, we shall the raore easily understand how, even previous to the existence of any inspired written raeraoirs, the gospel message, as pro claimed by so great a multitude of preachers in every region of the world, may have possessed an entire unity in the substance and general scope, with the utmost free dom and variety in the details. The so-called "Apostles' Creed" did not then exist, at least in the complete form in which we now possess it ; yet we have doubtless a cor rect reflection of the substance of the message which apostles and evangelist's proclaimed to the world, in those grand old words in which stiU the universal Church ex presses the essential elements of her divine faith and hope; " I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Yirgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and huried : he descended into hell ; the third day he rose again from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall- corae to judge the quick and the dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy catholick Church ; the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life ever lasting. Amen." 62 THE CHURCH AT THE CLOSE PERIOD Of the literature of this first age of the Church, apart viss^. fpojQ ^|jg inspired writings of apostles and evangelists. Literature, ^jy); fg^ aud scauty rcmaius have descended to us. An Apostolic "^ Fathers, epistle by Clement, the friend of St. Paul, to the Church at Corinth, exhorting to peace and unity ; an epistle ascribed, but on scarcely sufficient gi-ounds, to Bamabas, and bearing strong internal traces of an Alexandrian allegorizing leaven; seven epistles by Ignatius,^ a dis ciple and friend of St. John, written on his way to martyrdom ; some fragments of oral tradition of the Ufe and words of Jesus, preserved, but with little judgment or discrimination, by Papias, another disciple of the same apostle; an epistle by Polycarp, which well reflects the character of that venerable pastor and martyr ; a kind of allegorical reUgious romance, inculcating repentance and newness of life, bearing the name of Hermas;^ and, last and most valuable of all, an anonymous epistle, of singu lar eloquence aud beauty, in defence of Christianity, ad dressed to one Diognetus, and purporting to come from " a disciple of the apostles;" — such are the entire literary remains of a generation of Christians who had conversed with apostles and apostolic men, and had learned the message of salvation from their Ups. Nor is the quality of these relics, speaking generaUy, of such a kind as to make us grievously regret the loss of those which have perished. A great gulf divides between them and the genuine products of divine inspiration. With some thing still of the simple faith and love of the earlier generation, they are marked at the same time by a comparative poverty of thought and spiritual power, which places them at an immeasurable distance from those who spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost. They are not only in measure inferior, but in nature essentiaUy diverse, and move in an entirely dif ferent sphere. It is their highest praise, not that they ' See Xppeni\x— Ignatian Epistles. ' See Appendix — Pastor of Hermas. OF THE APOSTOLIC AGE. 63 emulate, but only faintly echo the powerful voices of ohapteh those by whose Ups the Eternal Spirit spoke to men. J^ By then- very contrast they afford the strongest negative testimony to the unapproachable majesty of the inspired Word. In tbeir own place, however, they are most valuable. They form the only connecting link between the age of inspiration and the centuries of comraon time. " They still shine with the evening red of the apostolic day, and breathe an enthusiasm of simple faith; and fervent love and fidelity to the Lord, which proved its power in suffering and in martyrdom. They move in the element of living tradition, and make reference oftener to the oral preaching of the apostles than to their writings, for these were not yet so generally circulated. But they bear a testimony none the less valuable to the genuineness of the apostolic writings, by numerous cita tions, and by the coincidences of their reminiscences with the facts of the gospel history and the fundamental doctrines of the New Testament." ^ And so the brave vessel launched away into the wide sea, amid mist, and storm, and darkness, as if piercing her way blindly into the black and murky gloora. But her Master is at the helm, and in tempest and in calra, in light and in darkness, guides her safely on. The promise is still secure, and burns like a clear and stead fast light upon her prow, as she ploughs her onward way through the ages, " Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world." ^ Schaffs Historpr of the Church of Christ. See kppw.iu.— Apostolic Fathers. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE I. ROMAN EMPEEORS. OTAVIANUS AU GUSTUS, first Emperor of Rorae, B.C. 30 ; ob. 19 Aug., a.d. 14. 14. TIBERIUS. 37. CALIGULA. 41. CLAUDIUS. 54. NERO. LEADING EVFNTS. JESUS CHRIST born, at least four years before the Vulgar Era, n.o. 747 (Jarvis and Winer) ; 749 (Hales) ; 750 (Ussher and Wieseler). 30. The Crucifixion. 30. The Ascension (May 18, Wieseler). Pentecost (May 27). 36. Stephen, the first martyr, stoned, 36. Conyersion of St. Paul. 42. Baptism of Cobhelios by St. Pbtek. 42. Gentile Chnrch at A ntioch formed. 44. Persecution by Herod Agrippa. — James the eldei beheaded. — Imprisonment of Peter.— Paul aud Barnabas at Jerusalem,, with aid from the Church at Antioch. 46-48. St. Paul and Barnabas at Antioch. 48. St. Paul's flrst missionary journey, with Bar nabas — Antioch, Cypras, Pamphylia, Lystra, Derbe. 50. St. Paul's third visit to Jerusalem. — Conflict about Jews and Gentile!! settled in his favour. — First Council at Jerusalem. 50. The Apostles dispersed — Jambs (the Lord's brother) only remaining, as head of the Church at Jeru salem. 51. St. Paul's second journey, with Silas and Timotht — Antioch, Asia Minor, Macedonia, Greece.— Churches founded in Galatia, PhUippi, Thessa lonica, Benea, Athens, Corinth, Achaia, 54. St. Paul's thirdjourney— ^sios Minor, Macedonia, and Greece. — Founds a Church, and resides three years at Epliesus. Returns. to Jerusalem (for the fifth time); made captive at Ccesarea, and kept iu prison under Felix until 60. 60. St. Paul carried a prisoner to Rome. Jajies the Just stoned at Jei-usalem. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES. 65 SYNOPSIS OP THE FIRST PERIOD. contemporary history. ROMAN BISHOPS.* Death of Herod the Great. — Succeeded by his sons — Arohblaus, in Judcea and Samaria, till a.d. 6; PniLiP, in Galilee, till his death in 33; and Herod Antipas, in part oiOalUee, Iturcea, Sec, till deposed in 39. 26. Pontius Pilate, fifth procurator of Judcea, till 36. Philo JuD.ffiUS (b. b.o. 26) fl. TiBULLUs and Pro pertius fl. 30. Seneca L. A^smvs fl. ; put to death by Nero, a.d. 65. 41. Herod Agrippa I., king of all Palestine to 44. 44. Palestine, a distinct Roman province. 44. Britain invaded by Claudius. — London founded, 49. 47. I/udi sceculares celebrated at Rome. 48. Herod Agrippa II., king of Colchis ; of tetrarchy of Philip, 63-90. The last of the race. 60-100. Roman wars with the Germans. 64. Armenia Minor reduced to a Roraan province. 58. Josephus fl. ; b. a.d. 37; ob. 93. ~ 60. Plint the elder fl. ; killed at Vesuvius, 79. Lucan, Martial, Perseus, Petronius, and .Ju venal fl. Apollonius of Tyana fl. ; ob. 122. Early heretics and heretical sects— Dositheus, Simon Magus, Menander, Cerinthus. Ebionitism and Gnostic Docetism. * The whole subject of the Roman Pastor ate in the tii'st century is very obscure and' uncertain. We have followed the order and dates adopted by Bunsen, JJypol. I., p. ,33. 60 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES. SYNOPSIS OF THE ROMAN EMPERORS. LEADING EVENTS. 63. 64. Supposed release of St. Paul from captivity, and missionary labours in Ma6edonia, Asia Minor, Spain. First Christian persecution. 68. GALEA. 69. OTHO. 69. VITELLIUS. 69. VESPASIAN. 79. TITUS. 81. DOMITIAN. 96. NERVA. 98. TRAJAN. 68. Supposed second captivity and martyrdom of Si. Paul. 68. Martyrdom of St. Peter. 70. St. John in Asia Minor. 81-96. Second Christian persecution under Domitian. — Banishment of St. John to Patmos, and sup posed martyrdom of Andrew, Mark, Onesimus, and Dionysius of Antioch. 86. Church of Corinth deposes its rulers, giving occa sion to the Epistle of Clement. 100. Deatii of St. John. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES. 67 FIRST 'P'EB.IOH— continued. CONTEMPORARY HISTORY. ROMAN BISHOPS. 65. Death of Seneoa. 67. Linus, 70. Destruction of ¦7«rttsa?em. 78-85. Wars of Agricola in Britain. 80. Colisseum of Vespasian corapleted. 88. Dacian war. QUINTILLIAN fl. 71. Cletus. 79. Clemens. 88. Evaristns. Flint the younger fl. Taoitus, ob. in 108; Suetonius, Plutarch, ob. 140. 68 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE IL THE LIFE OP ST. PAUL. (FROM CONYBEARE AND HOWSON.) BIOGRAPHY OF ST. PA0L. CONTEMPORARY EVENTS. A.D. 36? St. Paul's conversion (supposing the Inj Tpwi of Gal. i. 18 Judai- cally reckoned). 371 At Damascus. Death of Tiberius, and accession of Caligula. 38? Flight from Damascus to Jeru salem, and thence to Tarsus. 39 1 ¦ During these years St. Paul 401 preaches in Syria and Cilicia, making Tarsus his head 41? quarters, and probably under Deatii of CaliqdlAj and accession goes most of the sufierings of Claudius (Jan. 25). — Judcea 42? mentioned at 2 Cor. xi. 24-26 and Samaria given to Herod — namely, two of the Roman Agrippa I. and the five Jewish scourg- 43 . ings, and three shipwrecks. Invasion of Britain by Aulus Plautius. Death of Hkrod Agrippa I. (Acts 44 He is brought frora Tarsus to Antiocli (Acts xi. 26), and stays xii.) there a year before the famine. Cospius Fadus (as procurator) succeeds to the government of Judcea. 45 He visits Jerusalem with Barna bas, to relieve the famine. 46 At Antioch. Tiberius Alexander made pro curator of Judcea about this time. 47 At Antioch. 48 His " First Missionary Journey" — from Antiochto Cyprus, An tioch in Pisidia, Iconium, Lys tra, Derbe, and back tiirough the same places to Antioch. Agrippa II. (Acts xxv.) made king of Chalcis. 49 CuMANUs made procurator of Ju dcea about this time. 60 St. Paul and Barnabas attend Caractaous captured by the Ro the " Council of Jerusalem." mans in Britain. CooiDONUs (fiither of Claudia [?], 2 Tim. iv. 21) assists the Ro mans in Britain. 61 His "Second Missionary Jour ney" — from Antioch to Cilicia, Lycaonia, Galatia. 62 Troas. Claudius expels the Jews from Rome (Acts xviii. 2). CHRONOLOGICAL TABLES THE LIFE OF ST. TAVL— continued. 69 BIOGRAPHY OE ST. PAUL. CONTEMPORARY HISTORY. A.D. 52 53 54 566657 58 69 60 61 63 64? 65? Philippi, Thessalonica, Bercea, A thins, and Corinth. — Writes I. Thess. At Corinth.— 1, tijc jTatijei- aimtgljtD [Ptafetv of fteabtn ant( Cai-tij] : aiiB in StiSiaS CJ^viSt ijis onti) Son, our EorB : OTljo luaS tonteibeU iu t{)c ffioli) (§l)o5t, 33orn of dje ©irgtn JKar^, Sufferea uixbcr JBontiu^s JPilate, Mas crutifiett, [UcaU,] antt burit'a, [fle trestenDea into ^dl] i^ Cije tljirU Uaj? fit roSc again from ti)e Seatf, ?|c ascmaett into fteaben, ani sittcti^ at ti^e rtg^t i^anU of [©oil,] ti)e jTatijer [iilmigljt))] ; dFrom tijencc l^e Sljall come to jutfge tl)e quicfe anti ti^^ ticab. fiicliebc in tije ftoli? ©Ijost; tije>folj) [Catljolic] Cljurci^; [%i}e Communion of faints]; Ci)c forgibeneS^ of sin:S; Clje resurrection of tlje botip, [anU ti^c life eberlaSting]. ^men. '¦ Commonly called the Apostles' Creed, consisting originally in the simple baptismal formula of faith in the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and gradually enlarged till it assumed its present form, probably in the early part or the middle of the second century. The parts within brackets are not in the earliest copies, and were evidently added in the course of subsequent revisals, as explana tory amplifications, and in no respect alter the sense. ¦' Hades, or the world unseen. 72 THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. PERIOD SECOND. THE CHURCH OF THE MARTYRS. CHAPTER I. THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. A.D. 100-313. > PERIOD Thk Christian Church, thus securely founded, went on SECOND. jjj(.j.gj^gjjig j^j; Qjice in numbers and in moral influence during the two succeeding centuries. The period from the death of St. John to the accession of Constantine was for the Church emphatically the period of growth. It was, as we shall soon see, a period also of sore and fiery trial; but its time of trial was pre-eminently its time of triumph. Like the mysterious bush of old, it lived and blossomed amid the flames. The more it was shaken by the storm, the more deep it struck its roots, and the more widely scattered its living seeds around. Though always delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, and familiar, most of all, with scafiblds and with dungeons for three hundred successive years, she was yet the only strong and living thing in all the world, while aU else was decaying and dying around her. We have no means, indeed, of minutely tracing the details of her progress. We have no register of her membership from year to year, or authentic record of the time and the circumstances of her establishment in particular provinces or cities. The vague rumours on the subject which have come down to us through the medium of uncertain tradition, assigning an THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. 73 apostolic origin to almost all the leading Churches of the chapter empire, are entitled to little weight, as they were the _i_ growth obviously of an after age; and originated probably rather in the fond wish of ecclesiastics to enhance the dignity and authority of their respective Churches, than in any authentic historic data. We have statements, however, of a broader and more general kind, in the still extant authorship of the time, which enable us, if not to fix details, yet to form a general idea of the depth and breadth of the stream at successive periods. We have already quoted the pregnant words of the heathen Pliny, as to the growth and prevalence of the faith about the beginning of the second century. About half a century later (about A.D. 160), we have the means of cimrch im gauging its progress in the interval. " There is no *' ' people," the Christian apologist, Justin Martyr, could then fearlessly say, " Greek or barbarian, or of any other race, by whatsoever appellation or manners they may fee dis tinguished, however ignorant of art or agriculture, whether they dwell in tents or wander about in covered waggons, among whom prayers and thanksgivings are not offered, in the name of the crucified Jesus, to God the Father and Creator of all things."^ About the same time we have authentic evidence of the progress of the truth, not only within the limits of the Koman empire, but amid bar barous tribes in far distant regions beyond its pale. Irenseus tells of " wild German tribes which, without paper or ink, have the gospel written on their hearts by the Holy Ghost ;" ^ and Bardesanes, a learned Christian writer, living about the same time, at the court of the prince of Edessa, distinctly speaks of Christian Churches shining in the light of Christian holiness amid the fire-worshippers of the far east.^ Near this time, too, as we learn from Tertullian, the light of salvation first ¦ Justin. Dial. c. Tryph., c. 117. ' Iren., i. 3. ' Quoted by Eusebius in Prcepar. Evang., vi. c. 10. 74 THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. period visited our own distant isle, finding its way thither, SECOND, probably through some of the Gallic Churches across Church In the sca! Taking now another stride of fifty years, we come to the close of the second century and the be ginning of the third. At that time the greatest light nf the Church, and one of the most powerful minds and ooblest spirits of the age, was Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullianus, presbyter of the Christian Church at Car thage. His testimony is the more decisive, as it is given in writings addressed to the enlightened heathen world itself, and consists of an appeal to facts, which he speaks of as known and patent to all. "In whom," says he, with somewhat, no doubt, of rhetorical exaggeration, yet still with the triumphant fearlessness of truth, — " in whom have ever the universal nations believed, save in Him who now is come? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, the inhabitants of Mesopotamia, Phrygia, Cappadocia, Asia, Egypt, and the regions of Africa beyond Cyrene — dwellers in Rome and in Jerusalem — also the various tribes of the Gsetuli, the vast realms of the Mauri, the whole extent of Spain, the varied Gallic tribes, and places inaccessible to the Roman arms, but yielding themselves vanquished to the power of Christ; — Sarmatians, Dacians, Germans, Scythians, and many sequestered nations and pro vinces to us unknown, and which I cannot even enumerate." " We are a people but of yesterday," again he exclaims in his Apology, " and yet we have filled every place belonging to you — cities, islands, castles, towns, assemblies, your very camps, your tribes, companies, palaces, senates, forum. We leave you your temples only. We can count your armies; our numbers in a single province will be greater." Elsewhere he says that in case of a persecu tion at Carthage, such was the number of the Christians, that the city would have to be decimated; and we learn, from another source that a provincial Synod was held at the same place, about A.D. 200, under Agryppinus, which THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. 75 was attended by no fewer than seventy African and ohapter Numidian bishops. Thus far as to mere extent and _L_ numerical strength. Meanwhile the new faith was gra- Sociiii dually and steadily creeping upwards in the scale of social life, and gathering in its own more and more from the highest as well as the lowest classes of the people. Even so early as the days of Pliny, its disciples, as he complains, were of every rank in the social scale.- The proud heathen philosophers, indeed, tried hard to ignore this fact, and, like Celsus, would sneeringly remark, that " wool- workers, cobblers, fullers, the most illiterate and vulgar of man kind," preached the iUiterate faith, and knew how to com mend it to " women and children." But none knew better than they the social importance and advancing power of the body they affected to contemn. They hated it so bitterly, not because it was so weak, but because it was so sti-ong — not because they despised, but because they feared it. In Celsus's time, as long before, it counted its disciples in every class in the social scale, and numbered among its teachers and defenders some of the finest and brightest spirits of ,the age. It is true that, as his poor sneer implied, it still, as of old, preached its glad tidings specially to the poor, and found, most of all, a glad welcome in their hearts and homes to whom there was in heaven or earth no other comforter. This was not its reproach, but, in truth, its highest glory. Yet still, neverthe less, had it a message also to those rich alike in earthly and in intellectual wealth, which some of the deepest minds of the time did not fail to own. In truth, thus most of all did it prove its own divinity as the one true and universal religion of humanity, that it addressed itself alike to all, and gathered out its own from the midst of all, high and low, rich and poor, ignorant and refined ahke. While it raised the lowest natures it conquered also the highest. It might be found under the senator's robe, the philosopher's cloak, and the beggar's rags, by MEOOHD. THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. period turns. While slaves and prisoners, weak women and little children, were often amongst the noblest of its con fessors, there were those al§o amongst the highest in the land — officers of the household, members of the royal family, captains of the guards, men and women of eques trian rank and affluent fortune, who deemed it their highest glory to live and to die for it, So early as the days of Domitian we find the emperor's own near kinswoman, Domitilla, and her husband, Flavins Clemens, amongst the number of the Christian confessors and martyrs; nor did the goodly succession of such iUustrious names ever fail from the roU of the " noble army." In the sphere of thought and literature, it is enough to enumerate the names of those who were in those days the leading teachers and defenders of the faith — Clement, Jillstin, Origen, Ter tullian, Hippolytus, Cyprian — men surely of intellectual stature and mental affluence equal, if not superior, to any of their age. So, during three centuries of trial, mightily grew the word of God and prevailed, till at last, within a few years of its final triumph, it had become so formidable, that its fiercest and most implacable foe, the Emperor Maximinus, in one of his edicts, says, that almost all " had abandoned the worship of their ancestors for the new sect." cansciot The sccret of this wondrous progress, a phenomenon unparaUeled hitherto in the history of the world, we have already partly touched on. It lay, doubtless, mainly and primarUy in the nature of the religion itseK — in its marvellous and truly divine adaptation to the necessities and the nature of man — to man as man — in all his conditions, circumstances, and relations. Framed by One who knew what was in man, it spoke to man as no other system had done or could do. The key fitted perfectly into all the wards of the lock, and so easily turned it. Deep called unto deep — the deep of the TBE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. 77 divine mercy to the deep of human misery. Leaving chapter aside all in man that was merely outward and conven- J_ tional, it spoke directly home to that within his soul that was most real, deep, and everlasting, and awoke a powerful echo there. It spoke to his heart, to his conscience, to his reason, his wUl, and his immortal hopes and fears. To the heart it brought consolation and sympathy; to the conscience redemption ; to the bewildered reason, the :needful support of authoritative teaching; to the feeble will, strength; to the wistful spirit, dreaming of immor tality, and groping after it, the sure and certain hope of life everlasting. All this too, came, not in a mere dry sj'stem, but, as it were, embodied and enshrined in the living person of Christ, who was himself at once the Comforter, the Redeemer, the Teacher, the King, the Resurrection and the Life. In Him this doctrine, as it were, was incar nated, and at the same time, by the sacred halo that surrounded him, accredited as divine. He stood con fessed, in the light of his own transcendent majesty and grace, as the true Son of God and Saviour of the world. A strange, mysterious influence, tooj like the breathing of life from above, accompanied the new doctrine. It was not only a creed, but a power; not a new doctrine only^ but a new life ; not only speaking to a man with persuasive sweetness and commanding authority, but, as it were, taking hold of him and carrying him away, by a sove reign and constraining might till then unknown. It was the "power of God unto salvation to every one that believed." Therein undoubtedly lay its chief charm and power. Other circumstances, no doubt, contributed in a secondary way to aid and facilitate its progress. The miraculous powers which stiU lingered more or less in the Church as far down as the days of TertuUian and Cyprian, the holy lives and heroic deaths of Christians, their undoubting faith and certitude of truth, their indomitable 78 THE PROPA OA TION OF THE FA ITH. ' PERIOD zeal in propagating it, their unwearied and self-sacrificing sE^D. charity, the holy bonds of love and brotherhood which bound them together in an age when every other sacred tie was giving way, and there was no other home for the heart on earth, — all these things contributed, dowbtless, greatly to conciliate the favourable attention of men to" the claims of the new faith. That faith, however, must stUl work conviction and win the supremacy of the soul through its own intrinsic truth and divine power alone. As no such merely predisposing causes can bring men under the transforming and new-creating infiuence of Christianity now, so no more could they then. Some special circuinstances in the existing state of the world and of the Roman empire at the time of the intro duction of Christianity, which favoured its propagation, have already been adverted to in the introduction. To use the words of a recent eminent writer, " Christianity had a powerful negative advantage in the hopeless condi tion both of the Jewish and Gentile worlds. Since the fearful judgment of the destruction of Jerusalem, Judaism had wandered, restless and accursed, without a national existence. Heathenism outwardly held sway, but was inwardly rotten and in process of inevitable decay. The popular religion and public morality were undermined by a materialistic phUosophy; Grecian science and art had lost their creative energy; the Roman empire rested on the power of the sword and of temporal interests; the moral bonds of society were sundered ; unbounded avarice and vice of every kind, by the confession of a Tacitus and a Seneca, reigned in Rome and in the provinces, from the throne to the hovel. Nothing that classic ajitiquity in its fairest days had produced could heal the fatal wounds of the age, or even give transient relief The only star of hope in the gathering night was the young, the fresh, the dauntless religion of Jesu.s, fearless of death, strong in faith, glowing with love, and destined to com- THE PROPAGATION OF TIIE FAITH. 79 mend itself more and more to all reflecting minds as the chapter only living religion of humanity. ' Christ appeared,' _i_ says Augustine, ' to the men of the decaying, decrepit world, that while all around them was withering away, they might through him receive a new and youthful life.'" While considering this subject, our readers cannot fail Gibiion's to be reminded of tbe five secondary causes assigned ^y *'''°'"'"'°* the sceptical historian Gibbon for the rapid growth and final triumph of the Christian Church. The problem itself which he seeks to explain he has not unfairly stated : " While that great bo4y [the Roman empire] was invaded by open violence or undermined by slow decay, a pure and humble religion gently insinuated itself into the minds of men, grew up in silence and obscurity, derived new vigour from opposition, and finally erected the triumphant banner of the Cross on the ruins of the Capitol. Nor was the influence of Christianity confined to the period, or to the limits of the Roman empire. ' -After a revolution of thirteen or fourteen centuries, that reUgion is stiU professed by the nations of Europe, the most distinguished portion of human kind in arts and learning, as well as in arms. By the industry and zeal of the Europeans, it has been widely diffused to the most distant shores of Asia and Africa; and, by the means of their colonies, has been firmly established from Canada to ChUi, in a world unknown to the ancients." Nor is • the solution he offers for a phenomenon so remarkable, in words at least, less satisfactory. " To this inquiry," he says, " an obvious and satisfactory answer may be returned — that it was owing to the convincing evidence of the doctrine itself, and to the overruling providence of its great Author. But as trutii and reason seldom find so favourable a reception in the world, and as the wisdom of Providence frequently condescends to use the passions 80 THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. PERIOD of the human heart and the general circumstances of sKcoiii), mankind as instruments to execute its purposes, we may still be permitted, though with becoming submission,, to ask, — not, indeed, what were the first, but what were the secondary causes of the rapid growth of the Christian Church. It will, perhaps, appear that it was most effec tually favoured and assisted by the five following causes: 1. The infiexible, and, if we maj' use the expression, the intolerant zeal of the Christians, derived, it is true, from the Jewish religion, but purified from the narrow and unsocial spirit which, instead of inviting, had deterred the GentUes from embracing the law of Moses. 2. The doctrine of a future Ufe, improved by every additional circumstance which could give weight and efficacy to that important truth. 3. The miraculous powers ascribed to the primitive Church. 4. The pure and austere morals of the Christians. 5. The union and discipUne of the Christian republic, which graduaUy formed an indepen dent and increasing state in the heart of the Roman empire."^ Were these reasons offered in good faith, and not, as was in, large measure the case, as a mere text for an insidious and covert attack on the very vitals of the Christian reUgion itself, they might have been accepted as, on the whole, a fair and reasonable account of the matter. The most serious exception to their validity, in the way in which he presents them, would be, that in reality they are not secon,dary causes, but pri/mary — tuming, not on accidental circumstances, but on the essential exceUence and divine power of the religion itself. That undoubting assurance of the truth, in an age of general scepticism and perplexity, which fired what he calls the intolerant zeal of the early evangelists — which impeUed them to proclaim their despised faith as the one exclusive religion for man, and made them willing them- ¦ Decline and Fall, ohap. xv.-a chapter whioh evory student should read and study at length. THE PROPAGATION OF THE FAITH. 81 selves to live and to die for it; that calm and authori- chapter tative declaration of that doctrine of immortality, on _|;_ which the greatest minds had been pondering, and after which the noblest hearts had been yearning from the beginning ; those miraculous signs and tokens of the divine presence with the Church, which, unless true, must have hindered rather, not helped the progress of the faith ; that subUme and truly celestiall image of truth and holi ness which, in an age of utter and shameless abandon ment, first visited the world, which was ever before the eyes of Christians, and in so many an instance reaUzed and embodied in life; and, finally, the growth, from the teaching and the toils of a few poor Jewish fishermen, of a kingdom more united, more strong, more commanding in its influence, more lasting in its sway, than the time- honoured empire of fhe Csesais itself; — these surely were no mere adventitious, favouring circumstances, but belonged to the very essence of the religion itself They were the stamp of its divine origin, not the aids of its human development. In them we trace, not the coin cidence of events or the play of circurastances, but the finger of God. Into this divine ark of refuge men found their way, Different then as now, from many different directions, and by very "° '' " diverse mental and spiritual leadings. Some approached the faith primarily through the understanding, some through the conscience, and some through the heart. One, for instance, who has been stirred before with in ward thirstings after truth, and has sought satisfaction for thosO cravings, now in one school of philosophy, now in another, at last finds in the true light the resolution of aU his doubts, and a sure resting-place for his feet. Another, oppressed in conscience by the remem brance of bygone crimes, and haunted with nameless fears and forebodings of coming woe, welcomes with joy conTer-sion. 82 THE PROPA GA TICN OF THE FA ITH. PERIOD the proclamation of divine jredemption and peace, aud SECOND, j^^ggg jjjg burden at the foot of the Cross. Another of a far different class finds in the new doctrine, at first, not so much the healing of the soul, as the discovery of its deadly malady. Of comparatively pure moral life aod high aspirings, he seemed even in his heathen state not ¦ far from the kingdom of God, and deemed himself, and was deemed by others, rich and increased with goods, aud having need of nothing. But the shining in of the celestial light makes manifest the great darkness. Arrested by the matchless image of divine purity and holy love in the person and words of Jeaus, he is at once smitten with a sense of his own worthlessness and need of transforming grace, and so, Uke Peter, is constrained first to cry, "Depart from me;" and then, "To whom can I go?" Another again, having first experienced Christ's healing power in the removal of some temporal malady, bodUy or mental, at the believing prayer of his disciples, is drawn on by bis secret grace to seek in the feUowship of the same divine Physician the higher healing of the soul. And, last of aU, there was " a great multitude of impotent folk " crushed and broken by earthly calamities and adversities, and having no comforter, — slaves, prisoners, captives, orphan.s, strangers, who, meeting at last that peerless " reli gion of sorrow," of which even the world's own prophets cari eloquently speak, — walking, as ever, Uke an angel of mercy in the shady side of the world, found in ber both a comforter for time and a guide to eternity. Thus by various cords apd bands were men drawn to Christ ; yet still ever by " the cords oflove and by the bands ofa man." The tree of Ufe, with its healing leaves and its pleasant fruit might be approached by many different paths. The city of God, bright with celestial glory, lay foursquare, and opened its pearly gates to every side of the world,— to the east and to the west, and to the north and to the south. MARTYR TIMES. 83 CHAPTER II. MARTYE TIMES. A.D. 100-313. Though from the first in its inmost spirit and principle ohapti alien from the genius of pagan Rome, it was a while '• before the Christian religion was sufficiently known to causes o , , ° , . , J: persecu- the imperial power to excite its enmity. Its obscurity tion. was its protection. Great Rome saw it not, and there fore passed it unheeding by. Originating amongst the Jews,' it was regarded at first as a mere Jewish sect, and shared alike in the impunity and the contempt with which that people were ever treated by their imperial masters. What did a Claudius or a Vespasian know, or care to know, of this new sect of Christians or Nazarenes, any more than of those other party names of Pharisee, Sadducee, Essene, Libertine, and the like, with the sound of which most Roman statesmen were familiar, but of whose meaning he scarcely deigned to inquire ? Christ was then only " one Chrestus," and the controversies between his followers and the Jewish priesis and people only one of those paltry squabbles to which that restless people were chronically subject. By-and-by, as the young Church became strong, it began to make its existence and its presence felt in the world, and then it stood in its genuine character and distinctive spirit face to face with Rome. Once met, they instinctivelj^ recognised each the other as its natural and iiTeconcilable enemy, and straightway a war of deadUest hate began between them, which Avas from the first one of extermination, and could terminate only by the fall of the one or the other. There was no room in the world for Christ and Caesar, and one or the other must die. ReUgion, according to SECOND. 84 , I MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD the whole tradition and fundamental constitution of the Roma.n power, was a state affair. The gods of Rome were a part, and the greatest part of Rome herself. They were bound up inseparably with all that was most glorious in her history, and most sound and strong in her political and social Ufe, and most of aU in those brave days of old to which her best sons looked back with such sad and wistful regret. There was not one tran saction of private or public life that was not mixed up more or less with their services. They were their leaders in war, their benignant benefactors in peace ; they were the guardians of law, and the sanctifiers of home. Even the gay pastimes and licentious pleasures of the people acquired a kind of dignity and even leligious significance by being regarded as feasts of the gods. A new divinity indeed had of late days been added to the Roman Pan theon, which seemed to pour mockery and ridicule on all the rest. The " genius of Rome " herself was reck oned amongst the Jiumber of her deities, and the statue of the reigning emperor, as embodying that august name, was crowned with votive chaplets, and worshipped with incense and sacrifice. The whimsical rite was but the recognition of a fact. The old gods of Rome were dead or dying, and the only real power on earth was the brute force of the tyrant empire. That power then must have its apotheosis and its aUotted place on the national Olympus. But the decrepitude and debasement of the national worship, as evinced by this and other signs, only made the truer and stronger Roman hearts sigh the more for those glorious days of the past, when such hideous mockery of sacred things was unknown, and their old country's gods were aU in aU. These gods the Christians spurned. The reUgion of Romulus and of Numa was to them as false and worth less as that of Nero or Domitian. Jupiter was but an impostor; Mars, a hideous and blood-stained idol; Venus, MARTYR TIMES. 86 the very impersonation of human lust and sin. Such words as these could find no tolerance on Roman ground. As at the touch of Ithuriel's spear the slumbering ser pent at once awoke and showed its sting. Had the Christians merely sought to exercise in peace their own religion, and leave others in the quiet possession of theirs, they would have found, perhaps, the same toleration which was freely accorded to the followers of other foreign rites ; but to blaspheme and insult the gods of Rome was an unpardonable sin, to be expiated only with blood. The Christian indeed pleaded conscience as their defence ; but that plea in Roman ears was only an aggra vation of the crime. What could proud Rome, the very impersonation itself of the principle of godless despotism, know of conscience ? In its view public law in things civil and things religious alike was everything, and in dividual right and responsibility nothing. The very plea of conscience therefore was itself a high affront to the majesty of the empire, and must be at once and at all hazards put down. In truth the very idea of personal respon.sibility and freedom was unknown to the world till it was introduced by Christianity. Even the best and gentlest of the Roman statesmen had no better name for the sublime constancy of the martyrs to the truth they beUeved, than that of blind and inflexible obstinacy.^ Other circumstances contributed to increase and inflame the hostility to the Christian profession and name, which was thus from the first inevitable. The Church was in a sense a secret society, — in days of persecution unavoidably so, — and secret societies and confederations of every kind were proscribed by the Roman law. A strange mystery, too, enveloped the character and movements of the Chris tians. They seemed to live under ground and to work under ground. They were everywhere; and yet, except when some special circumstance brought them under = Pertinacia et inflexibilis obstinacia.— PJjny. CHAPTER II. 86 MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD public view, no one saw them or knew anything about SECOND. .j.{jgjjj_ They were understood to meet together for cer tain peculiar rites at certain secret places and times, and have the closest possible ties of organization and brother hood among themselves ; but aU this out of sight. K one were early astir in the morning, or late abroad at night, he might perchance see a few obscure persons creeping stealthUy, as it might seem, to some common meeting- place, and would guess that perhaps these were the Christians, but otherwise might live for months among them and hear nothing of them. Then they were in tensely propagandist. While ever unseen they were ever at work. Every member was also a missionary of the sect, and lived mainly to propagate a doctrine for which they were ever ready to die. Thus the infection spread by a thousand unsuspected channels. Like a contagion propagated in the air, it could penetrate, as it seemed, anywhere, everywhere. ' The meek and gentle slave that tends your children, or attends you at table, may be a Christian ; the favourite daughter of your house, who has endeared herself to you by a tenderness and grace peculiarly her own, and which seems to you as strange as it is captivating, turns out to be a Christian; the captain of the guards, the legislator in the senate-house, may be a Christian ! In these circumstances who or what is safe ? What power can defend the laws and majesty of Rome, and the peace of domestic life, against an enemy like this ? Then it was often as hateful for its absence as for its presence. With sullen moroseness this strange people studiously absented themselves from all places and scenes of pubUc entertainment and festivity. Games, shows, gladiatorial contests, public fetes of every kind, miUtary or civil, they eschewed as they would have done the plague. Such scenes, forsooth, were so mixed up with idolatry, and so steeped in licentiousness and sin, that though consecrated by the presence and express sanction MARTYR TIMES. 87 of their country's gods, they were not good enough for chapter them ! Meanwhile the wUdest and most scandalous JL rumours were rife as to the scenes in which they them selves indulged in their secret assemblies, while thus con demning the time-honoured festivities of their country. They worshipped an ass's head. ^ They ate the flesh and drank the blood of murdered innocents. ^ They rioted in indiscriminate licentiousness a,nd unnatural crimes.^ And while blaspheming the religion of other people, they had apparently none of their own. They had neither images nor altars nor temples.^ They had no religious ceremonies or processions. They were, in fact, atheists — hateful alike and accursed in the sight of gods and men. These wild and extravagant calumnies were industriously cir culated, and believed at least by the brutal and superstitious rabble. So whenever any public calamity befell the state; or any special circumstance occurred to aggravate the misery of the people, — a famine, a pestilence, an inundation, an earthquake, a scourge of locusts, a conflagration, a defeat by land, a hurricane at sea,. — a ready cause was ever found in the existence among them of a race of men hateful to the gods, and the savage cry arose anew, " Jove withholds the rain ; it is the fault of the Christians."^ "To the hons with the Chris tians; to the Uons with the Christians;^ to the lions with the Atheists." Such, then, was the normal condition of the Christian Normal Church in the Roman empire during a period of nearly fi^rtyr three hundred years. During all that time she may be <^'"''"'- said to have been in a state of chronic persecution. Dur ing all that time she was in the eye of the law an illicit religion,' and under a perpetual ban of outlawry. She 1 Deus onoohoetes ' Epulae thyesteffi. ' Concubitus cedipodei. ' This was a charge against Christianity so late as the days of Celsus. s Non pluit deus ; due ad Christianus. ' Christianos ad leones. ' " Religio ilUioita." A foreign worship, not numbered among the rites tole rated by law. 88 MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD vfas not always actively persecuted, but she was always SECOND, exposed to it. Whatever quietness and peace she at any time enjoyed, she held only by sufferance, and as it were by connivance. She was like a criminal at large, exposed every moment to the grasp of justice, which may relax its vigilance, but cannot lose its claim. Even under the mUdest reigns and the most prosperous times, they were still at the mercy of any oppressive governor or angry mob, who might choose to let loose the emissaries of the law against them. Even during those long intervals of peace, when the Church so rapidly spread amongst all classes of society, and even places of Christian worship were reared in public streets before the pubUc eye, it was stUl, though men had almost forgotten it, an iUicit and criminal combination, and its members bound to answer for their connection with it with their lives. The fires of persecution slumbered now and then, but were never extinct. The course of the Church during all those long and weary ages was like that of one of our iron pathways under ground, in which a dim opening overhead reveals now and then for a moment the light of day, to be lost in a moment again in the blackness of darkness. The "Ten From a very early period it has been customaiy to tions." reckon ten great persecutions of the Christians during those ages of trial, — under the emperors Nero, Domitian, Trajan, Marcus Aurelius, Severus, Maximinus, Decius, Valerianus, Aurelianus, and Dioclesian respectively. This number is not indeed absolutely correct, being too large for the strictly general persecutions, and far too small for those which were provincial and local. It is, however, sufficiently near the truth to serve the purposes of arrange ment and easy remembrance, and with this view we shall proceed upon it in the following brief summary of the ,„ , events of three hundred years Mrst per- •'^ ¦seciiHon. I. The first hostile collision between the world and the 1 64-68. Church under the ruffian Nero, was dictated, so far as the Nero,IL.T). II. MARTYR TIMES. 89 emperor himself was concemed, rather by personal than chapter by political considerations. In a fit of reckless merriment he had set fire to Rome, and thus, contrary probably to his own expectation, commenced a feai-ful conflagration, which lasted for nine days, and laid more than half the city in ashes. To turn aside suspicion and public indig nation from himself, he laid the blame on the Christians, who were already the objects of a general hatred and scorn, which procured easy credence for any charge against them_, however. gratuitous or monstrous. Even the histo rian Tacitus speaks of them with easy indifference, as a set of men "hateful for their crimes," and "the enemies of the human race." The hint was at once taken up by the brutal populace, and a furious and wasting persecution began, which proceeded thus rather from the heart of the people than from the councils of state. Nero only sup plied the spark to the mine which was already prepared in the bosom of the nation. The scenes which foUowed, as drawn by the heathen historian in a few terribly vivid lines, are horrible beyond description.^ The Christians were slain in crowds, amid exquisite torturfe and savage barbarities. They were crucified. They were sewed in sacks made of the skins of wild beasts, and thrown to be ' This important passage, which should be familiar to every student, we here give at length : — " Ergo abolendo rumori Nero subdidit reos, et qusesitissimis pcenis affecit, quos per flagitia in vises vulgus Christianos appellabat. Auctor, nominis ejus Christus, Tiberio imperitante, per procuratorem Pentium Pilatum supplicio aifectus erat ; repressaque in pi-ffisens exitiabilis superstitio rursum erumpebat, non modo per Judaeam, originem ejus ma|li, sed per urbem etiam, quo cuncta undique atrocia aut pudenda confluunt celel>ranturque. Igitur primum correpti qui fatebantur, deinde indicio eorum multitudo ingens, haud perinde in crimine inoendii, quam odio humani generis, convicti sunt. Et pereunti bus addita ludibria, ut ferarum tergis oonteoti laniatu canum interirent, aut crucibus aifixi, aut flamraandi, atque ubi deBoisset dies, in usum nocturni luminis urerentur. Hortos suos ei spee- taculo Nero obtulerat, et oircense ludicrum edebat, habitu aurigs permixtus plebi vel curriculo insistens. Unde, quanquam adversus sontes et novissima exem,pla meritos, miseratio oriebatur, tanquam non utilitate publica sed in ssevi- tiam unius absumeretur."^ — Tac. A'mial., xv. 44. Coin pare Jv:v. Sat., i. 155; — " Pone Tigellinum : taeda luoebis in ilia. Qua siantes ardent, qui fixo gutture fumant, Et latum media sulcum diducit arena." 90 MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD torn by dogs. They were smeared with pitch, fixed upon SECOND, ^^g sharp points of poles, ajid set on fire as torches to illuminate the imperial gardens at night. This persecu tion extended beyond the waUs of Rome, and continued with more or less severity to the end of Nero's reign, four years afterwards. The terrible image of the monster, as he revelled in the lurid glare, and careered in fiendish merriment through the city in the guise of a charioteer, haunted for yeara afterwards the imagination of Chris tians, and gave rise to the rumour that their dreadful enemy was not dead, but had only retired for a season beyond the Euphrates, and would return erelong in the character of Antichrist. Second II. In the rapid succession of emperors that next followed poi^secu- — Galba, VitelUus, Otho, V&spasian, Titus — the civU fo^si-M ^ff^ii's of the empire were too engrossing to permit much attention to religious matter.s, and the Church in conse quence enjoyed an interval of repose. With the reign of Domitian, however, the old balefires were kindled again. Bloody martyrdoms were fi-equent; but in general the suspicious and avaricious character of that mean t3rrant inclined him rather to the mUder expedients of confiscation and banishment, than to the punishment of death. Fines and deportations were constant, the trade of the informer brisk and thriving. As the mere pro fession of Christianity was treated as a crime against the State, it was easy to lay his grasp on any one of the hated sect, or reputed to belong to it, on whom he had cast a suspicious or a greedy eye. Among the victims of this persecution were the two roj^^al sufferers already alluded to — the consul Flavins Clemens, the emperor's own cousin, who was condemned to death on the charge of Atheism, and his wife, Flavia Domitilla, who was sent into exile. It is to this period, too, our readers will remember, that the banishment of the apostle John to the isle of Patmos probably belongs. MARTYR TIMES. gj CHAPTER III. Under the mild .sway of the succeeding emperor, Nerva, the Church enjoyed a breathing time of rest ; but _fL. it was only a brief lull in the midst of the storm. With Third per- the accession of Trajan, in the year 98, the sky was again TrX°"'.D. overcast, and the dark clouds gathered thick and bkck ''-"^¦ as ever. That great emperor was a true Roman, alike in his virtues and in his errors. He was the firm upholder at once of the Roman laws and of the Roman gods, and in the true Roman spirit regarded them as inseparable the one from the other. In his personal character he was humane and just, and had no incUnation for cruel measures for their own sake. In the execution, however, of his country's laws, civil and sacred, and in the vindi cation of the majesty of Rome against every rebel power, he was firm and inflexible. He renewed the old laws against secret and unlawful assemblies,^ and thus put into the hands of hostile governors a weapon which was freely used against the Christians; and in reply to a letter of inquiry from Pliny, Governor of Bithynia, issued a rescript, which formed the rule of procedure in criminal prosecutions against them. The document exhibits a remarkable combination of strictness and moderation,- — ¦ clearly treating the profession of Christianity as criminal, yet discouraging all unnecessary severity in its prosecu tion. Accusations formally made were to be received and legally disposed of, but no search was to be made for criminals, or anonymous informations received. Accused persons were to be at once dismissed on their repudiating the proscribed faith, and proving their sincerity by offer ing incense to the gods. In the event, however, of their continuing steadfast and immovable in their holy profes sion, there was no alternative, even in the view of the just and clement Trajan, but to execute the last penalty of the law. ^ Among the sufferers in tliis reign were the ' Heteriae. ' See Appendix — Correspondence between Pliny and Trajan. .92 MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD aged Simeon, Bishop of Jerusalem,' and like its first SECOND, ppggjjjjjjg minister, Jamea, a kinsman of Christ, who was accused by fanatical Jews, and crucified in 107, — andthe Martyr- iUustrious Ignatius of Antioch, who, probably in the year i^Itius. lis. ^3'S led to Rome in chains, a conqueror rather than a captive, and thrown to the wild beasts in the amphi theatre. Hadiim, During the reign of Hadrian the same laws remained m"'~ i'^ force, but were administered, on the whole, with a rather more mild and gentle hand. Martyrdoms in differ ent parts of the empire were frequent ; but no public or general measures were taken for the suppression of the Christian name, while decided discouragement was offered to those wild outbreaks of popular fury to which the Church was at all times more or less exposed. Final fall The most important event of this reign bearing upon 8aiem,"A.D. ^^^ interests of religion, was the last great insurrection of the Jews against the Roman power, under the false Messiah, Bar-Cochba,-' and its ¦ stern suppression amid blood and flames, in the year A.D. 135. With that final straggle of their expiring national Ufe, the last vestiges of their national Church and State were swept away. Palestine was laid waste, Jerusalem again destroj^ed, and a Roman colony, under the nameof JElia Capitolina, erected on its ruins. An image of Jupiter and a temple of Venus profaned those holy places, to which the exiled people were forbidden, under pain of death, to return, but which they were permitted, on the anniversary of their ruin, to behold and bewail from a neighbouring hill. The ancient dispensation of Moses ¦ and the prophets was no more. It expired with that old theocratic city itself, which had been from the first the centre of its life and the sanctuary of its solemnities. The Jewish-Christian Church, over which till now the spell of the old worship had more or less lingered, awoke at last to a sense of her ' Or " Son ofthe Stars" (Numbers xxiv. 17). 135. MARTYR TIMES. 93 true destiny, and recognised in those dread events the chapter voice of her divine Master calling to her, " Arise, let us JL go hence." From that day Christianity stands fortii clearly and unmistakeably as the religion, not of one land or people, but of the world ; while Judaism, like an unquiet spirit, wanders without home or resting-place on earth. ,1V. Under the succeeding emperor, Antoninus Pius, the Fourth condition of the Christians was still, more favourable ; So™™" but on the accession of his successor, Marcus Aurelius, Marcus the storm of persecution burst forth anew, and with a wider a.d. igi- and more desolating sweep than even in the days of Nero and Domitian. In his political views inheriting the stern Roman principles of Trajan, he added to these a keen and bitter polemic zeal which was pecuUarly his own. He persecuted the proscribed sect not only as a statesman but 'as a religious partizan. His cold and proud stoic philosophy could have neither sympathy nor tolerance for an enthusiastic superstition, whose very fervour and holy triumph in the midst of suffering and wrong shocked all his ideas of that calm and tranquil reason in which, according to his system, true wisdom lay. Accordingly he was one of the most virulent and thoroughgoing of all the heathen persecutors. While giving full scope to the fanatical passions of the populace against the Christians, he introduced, at the same time, a system of espionage and torture, with the view of searching out hidden disciples and compelling them to recant. The fires of martyrdom burned with peculiar fierceness in Asia Minor, and in the south of Gaul ; the one in 167, the other in 177. In the former scene the most desperate efforts were made, by means of entreaties, threats, aud tortures, to induce the Christians to deny their faith, but in vain. "Flayed by scourging," so the old chronicle runs, " so that all their muscles and arteries were laid bare ; placed upon sharp-pointed spikes, with 94 MARTYR TJMES. PERIOD other like torments, the martyrs remained firm." The sE^D. j^^gj. iijug^j-JQug victim of this dreadful time was the Martyr- venerable Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, a disciple of the Poiycaip. apostle John, who during a long and honoured life had well borne out the promise of his name.^ After many days spent in prayer in the calm anticipation of his comincf trial, he was at last seized and carried before the Proconsular tribunal. He was caUed on to curse Christ, and thus obtain his Uberty. " Eighty and six years," he replied, " have I served him, and he never did me any wrong ; how then can I blaspheme my King and my Saviour?" To the further demand that he should swear by the fortune of Caesar, his only answer was, " I am a Christian," and so terminated his last parley with the principalities of this world. He died at the stake on Easter Sunday, probably of the year 168, praising God amidst the fiames for having deemed him worthy "to be numbered among his martyrs, to drink of the cup of Christ's sufferings unto the eternal resurrec tion of the soul and the body in the incorruption of the Holy Ghost." Martyrs of Of the like scenes at Vienne and Lyons, in southern andlyona. Gaul, WO have a very full and authentic record in an extant letter from the suffering Church itself to their brethren in Asia Minor, with whom they were closely connected, both by spiritual and by natural ties. An inexpressiUe pathos lingers over those simple and tender Unes, traced, doubtless, amid many tears in the very field of the sore battle seventeen hundred years ago. In the fury of that terrific onset, neither age, nor kindred, nor sex was spared ; heathen slaves were compelled by the rack to testify against their Christian masters, and that worthless testimony made the ground of the most exquisite tortures ;. but the sufferers, we are told, endured all with patience, "strengthened and bedewed ' " The fruitful." MARTYR TIMES. 95 by the spring of Uving water that flows from -the heart chapter of Christ," and deeming that " nothing can be dreadful 21l where the love of the Father dwells, nothing painful Vvhere shines the glory of Christ !" , Of individual sufferers we can only enumerate a few of the most illustrious names. The venerable bishop Pothinus, an aged disciple of ninety years, already ex hausted by a severe sickness, from which he had just re covered, was subjected to all sorts of cruel treatment, and then cast into a loathsome dungeon, where he died in two days. Blandina, a delicate female slave, displayed, under torments the most extreme and protracted, a courage and a constancy more than heroic. Lacerated with the scourge, roasted on a red-hot iron chair, tossed by a wild beast in a net, she continued to the last her brave confession, " I am a Christian, and there are no evil practices among us."^ Ponticus, a boy of fifteen years, showed similar constancy in a similar fight of afflictions, and would be deterred, by no extremity of fear or torment, from confessing his Lord. Lastly, Symphorinus, a young patrician residing at Autun in the neighbourhood of Lyons, refused to fall down to the image of Cybele, and was condemned to be beheaded. On his way to the place of execution his own mother met him, and cheered him on to meet the battle bravely. " My son," she cried, " be firm, and fear not that death which so surely leads to Ufe. Look to Him who reigns in heaven. To day is thy earthly life not taken from thee, but trans formed by a blessed exchange into the Ufe of heaven." At last the popular fury was sated with blood, and the persecution ceased, leaving a scanty remnant of those once flourishing Churches still surviving. The corpses which lay on the streets in heaps were gathered together, foully mutilated, and then burned, and their ashes thrown ¦ Alluding to the foul charges referred to above, a confession of which it was sought to extort by torture. 96 MARTYR TIMES. PERIOD into the Rhone, that no vestige of their accursed dust bLooND, gjjQ^i^ remain to poUute the soil. It is to this period that the well-known legend of the thundering legion (legio fulminatrix) belongs. In the war with the Marcomanni, in the year 1 74, so the story runs, the emperor and his army were on the eve of perishing with thirst, when a sudden storm of thunder and lightning, accompanied with plenteous rain, vouch safed to the prayers of th6 Christian soldiers, saved the dying host and terrified their enemies. The incident of the deliverance itself is probably not without some foun dation in fact, as it seems to have been beUeved by Christians and Pagans alike ; but the cause was explained differently by the two parties, according to thpir different views. The heathens ascribed the miracle, not to the Christian's God, but to their own, to whom they too, in the hour of extremity, had cried. It was Jupiter Plu- vius that had sent the rain, in answer to the prayers of his true votaries, and of that pious emperor who, in the hour of danger, could lift his eyes to heaven and say, " This hand, which has never yet shed human blood, I raise to thee." Fifth per- V. TIic succcediug twenty years, occupied by the reigns Septimius of Commodus, Pertinax, Didius Julianus, were a time of ^^"'193- ps*<^s- There may have been individual martyrdoms here 211. and there according to the caprice of governors, or the changeful passions of the populace ; but, generaUy, it was one of those grateful intervals of calm, during which the Church, braced by adversity, rapidly grew in numbers and in strength. At his accession it seemed as if Septimius Severus too was to be a favourer of the Christians. A remarkable cure from a dangerous disease, which he owed to a Christian slave, Proculus, naturally conciliated his kindly feelings in their behalf That bright prospect, however, was soon overcast, and in 203 the first warning note of a time of tiial was sounded once more. By an MARTYR TIMES. 97 edict issued in that year, he prohibited, on pain of death, ?baptkh the transition of any fresh converts either to Christianity Jl, or to Judaism, and thus sought to set a fixed limit to a power whioh it was impossible wholly to suppress. As well might he have sought, by his command, to arrest the advancing tide upon the shore. The Church rose to the height of the occasion, and the era was sig nalized less by defections, than by martyrdoms. > Egypt and Africa were, on this occasion, the great battle-fields of the faith. In A lexandria, Leonidas, the father of the Leonidas. illustrious Origen, was one ofthe first and noblest victims. Potamisena, a virgin of rare beauty, alike of body and Potami- of soul, bore with heroic patience the most exquisite tortures, and shuddered only when about to be handed over to the brutal soldiery for a doom worse than death. Thi,s, however, she found the means of escaping, and perished, together with her mother Marcella, by slow immersion in a caldron of boiling pitch. But another flower of martyrdom sprang up quickly from her grave. Basilides, the soldier who led her to execution, smitten with sudden contrition, handled the sufferers gently, shielded them from indignity, and the next day confessed Christ, and won the incorruptible crown. At Carthage, about the same time, the trials of the faith were as terrible, and its triumphs as glorious. Thxee young men, Revocatus, Saturninus, and Secondulus, and two young women, Perpetua and Felicitas, were arrested and rerpetoa cast into prison, though stiU only catechumens. The ijcitas' ' authentic annals of their imdomitable constancy, and calm witnessing for Christ even unto blood, form one of the most precious relics of Ghristian antiquity. Perpetua, a young and noble matron of twenty-two years, had to resist nqj, only the natural fear of suffering and of death, but the pleadings of an aged father, still a heathen, and the mute appeal of a helpless babe yet at the breast. Again and again did that heart-broken parent cast him- 98 MARTYR TIMES.. PERIOD self at her feet, — first at the poUce office immediately SECOND. ^^^^^ j^g^ arrest, then in the loathsome dungeon, and, last of all, at the tribunal on the day of trial, — and caUing her by every tender name, implored her to spare her own and her infant's life, aud her father's shame. Her heart was moved, but not shaken. " My father's grey hairs," she said, " pained me, when I considered that he alone of all. my family would not rejoice that I must suffer." Already, by the reception of baptism at the hands of the deacons in the prison, she had placed the last barrier between her and the world, and had set her face like a fiint, and was not afraid. The horror of the prison, indeed, more terrible even than the rack to one Uke her of gentle nui-ture, for a moment tried her constancy. " I was tempted," said she, " for I had never been in such darkness before. Oh what a dreadful day! The excessive heat occasioned by the multitude of prisoners, the rough treatment we experienced from the soldiers, and, finally, anxiety for my child, made me miserable." But the Lord stayed " his rough wind in the day of his east wind." The kindly ministry of the Church, never wanting even in scenes of bloodiest peril in these suffering days, interposed, and obtained for the prisoners the privilege of removal to another apartment, where they were separated from the other prisoners. There, by a last communion, they strengthened themselves for their great coming combat. Perpetua was comforted; and taking her infant to her bosom, encouraged herself and her companions with words of good eheer. " The dungeon," she said, " became a palace to me." Her last parley with the judge was brief and decisive. " Have pity on thy father's grey hairs," he said ; " have pity on thy helpless child; offer sacrifice for the welfare of the emperor." " That I cannot do," was her simple reply." "Are you a Christian?" "Yes; I am a Chris tian," and so her fate was sealed. Her companion MARTYR TIMES. 99 Felicitas, was one of low degree. But the sarae free chaptek heroic spirit fired the breast of the despised slave as of JL the high-born matron. She too had become a mother, having .been seized with the pangs of travail in the loathsome prison on the very evening of her condemna tion. The coarse jailor seized this occasion to aggravate her sufferings by a bitter sneer; " If thy present sufferings are so great" said he, " what wilt thou do when thou art thrown to the wild beasts? ,This thou did.st not consider when thou refused to sacrifice." She nobly repUed, " I now suffer myself aR that I suffer; but then there wUl be Another who will suffer for me, because / also shall suffer for Him." They were all five thrown to the wild beasts at; a festival in, honour of the nomination of the young emperor Geta. They joyfully accepted the doom, but bravely resisted an indignity which they deemed un worthy of their Christian profession. When about to be decked out, according to an old Punic custom which had descended from the days of human sacrifice, in the guise of heathen priests and priestesses, their free Christian spirits rebelled : " We have come here," they said, " of our own free will, that we may not suffer our freedom to be taken fi-om us. We have given up our lives that we might not be forced to such abominations." When now already torn and mangled, and about to receive the final stroke of mercy which was to terminate their sufferings, they bade each other a last farewell, exchanged once more the sacred fraternal kiss, and so, together " feU asleep." 100 THE CHURCH IN TIIE CATACOMBS. DIOUENES TnE EXCAVATOH. CHAPTER IIL M AETYR TIMES, CONTINUED — THE CHUECH IN THE CATACOMBS. A.D. 100-313. PERIOD We have already remarked that during all that long ¦ time of trial, the midway point of which we have now colnbi"'* i"eached, the Church may be said to have lived a Ufe underground — to have dwelt in a realm of her own— a land of darkness, and of the shadow of death, quite apart from the bright world of living men. Deep' down beneath the foundations of the social edifice, and beneath the very lowest floor of recognised and tolerated social life, the outcast people dwelt alone as in a vast and gloomy prison vault, realizing almost the psalmist's picture of tho.se who lived free among the dead, as the dead that lie in the grave, whom men remember no more. Even in a Uteral sense this might almost be said to have beeu so. Be- THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 101' neath the gay and busy streets of Rome, and far beyond oIiapter under tbe green fields and smiling gardens of the Cam- JL pania, there lay a vast subterranean city of sepulchral, passages and chambers which had been scooped out in the course ' of ¦ long ages from the .living rock; and which served alike for a refuge to the Uving, and a resting-place to the dead. Originating, as it has been thqught, at first in a manner wholly accidental, ill the excavations made, in the early years of the' empire, in' the soft tufa for building purposes, those dreary vaults had been gradually extended and enlarged,, accord ing to a more definite plan, by the ChristiaiiS; until they; had grown into an interminable labyrinth of blind cor-' rid'ors and alleys, ranged in successive tiers one above another, and branching out one from another in an endless! and inextricable maze. Entering by a secret opening, in. somO' sequestered spot hid by bushes and trees, and descending by a harrow flight of steps, you find yourself in the first floor or storey of this mysterious abode. Grop ing your way. by the light ofa lamp or taper, along one of the long and narrow passages which cross and recross one another in every clirection, you come at length to a' spot where the path descends again, and brings you by; another flight of steps tO' another and similar labyrinth' below; and from tbis again to another. Meanwhile on, every side, in the wall% and beneath the floor alilce of passages and chambers, you are surrounded by the count less sepulchres of the dead, and the rude epitaph, and siraple but expres,sive symbol of death and victory, look out upon you through the gloom at every step. At length as you wander on in endless mazes lost, you feel that .yoa are in,a city of the dead, which in point of extent rivals,, and in population vastly exceeds, the city of the living above your head. To use the words of a recent eye witness, — " "A catacomb may be divided into three parts, its 102 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. i-ERioD passages or streets, its chambers or squares, and its SECOND. (;ijuj.(3t)gg_ The passages are long narrow galleries, cut with tolerable regularity, so that the roof and floor are at right angles with the sides, often so narrow as scarcely to allow two persons to go abreast. They sometimes , go quite straight to a great length ; but they are crossed by others, and these again by others so as to form a complete labyrinth or net-work of subterranean corridors. To be lost among them would easUy be &taL " But these passages are not constructed as the name THE CATACOUBS OF ROUE. THE CHURCH IN TIIE CATACOMBS. 103 would imply, merely to lead to something else. Their chapter ¦walls as well as the sides of the staircase are honey-combed ."'• with graves; that is, with rows of excavations, large and small, of sufficient length to admit a human body, from a child to a full-grown man, laid with its side to the gaUery. Sometimes there are as many as fourteen, sometimes as few as three or four of these rows, one above the other. " When the corpse, wrapt up in a fair linen cloth, with some embalming or preserving substance, was laid in its narrow cell, the front was hermetically closed, either by a marble slab, or more frequently by several broad tiles, put edgeways in a groove or mortice cut for them in the rock, and cemented all round. The inscription was cqt upon the marble or scratched upon the wet mortar. Thou sands of the former sort have been collected, and may be seen in museums and churches; many of the latter have been copied and published, but by far the greater num ber of tombs are anonymous, and have no record upon them."^ At intervals in the line of these central passages or streets occur the other two kinds of excavations referred to above — the chambers and the churches. They are simply enlargements ofthe central passage, both in breadth and in height, by scooping out the rock on either side and above. Some were of smaUer size, and were de signed, evidently, to signalize the place of some more important tomb; others larger, and were destined to the purposes of religious worship. These latter, in after times profusely decorated by sculpture and painting, were doubtless at first of the simplest description. They con sisted of two square or oblong chambers, one on one side, and the other on the other of the central passage, and destined respectively for the accommodation of the male ' Fabiola; or. The Church in the Catacombs. Anonymous, but known to be from the pen of Cardinal Wiseman. 104 TBE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. PERIOD and the female wor.shippers, who in those days were' SECOND, jealously kept distinct. They were lighted sometimes by apertures in the roof, and sometimes by lamps hung on the walls around. These waUs, like those of the passages and smaller chambers, were full of niches or recesses, in which the remains of their friends were sleeping, while the living were there praising the Lord for whom some of those friends had died as martyrs. The following description of one of the largest of these, from the same well-informed writer quoted above, together with the accompanying cut, will enable our readers to form a more dis tinct idea ofthe plan and arrange ments of those subterranean sanc tuaries : — " Each of the two divisions was double, that is, consisted of two large chambers, slightly separated by half-columns, in what we may call the women's church, and by flat pilasters in the men's, one of these surfaces having in it a small niche for an image^ or lamp. But the . most remarkable feature of this basilica is a further prolongation : oy piihtphranfan CniRni i Ceaiktkrv of St. Agiuv. . Clioir, or climicel, with e|>fscopal cItaiV (a) and benches for lhe cleiTty (0), B. Dlvixlmi Tor (lie men, separatnl from the cliuir bj twa pillnni, supporting nn nrcli. of the structure, so as to give it "^ "°™;l°„^„1,,e'oi,SS,"''°''' "''¦"""'" "" 1 -t 1 i. rpi • ¦ ^- Diviaioii for Uie womcii, wiili n lomb in a chancel or presbytery. I his is tt. ¦* *i */ Each portion ia subdivirtcd by projcetious \\\ about the size of half each other "'°"''"- division, from which it is separated by two columns ^ Scarcely an image, in an age when, accordirig to Celsus, the Christiaiis were remarkable for not usinj; such in religious Avorship. See chap. ii. THE CIIURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 105' against the waU, as well as by its lesser height, after the manner of modern chancels. For while each portion of each division has first a lofty-arched tomb in its wall, and four or five tiers of graves above it, the erevation of the chancel is not much greater than that of those arcosolia or altar-tombs. At the end of the chancel, against the middle of the wall, is a chair with back and arms cut out of the solid stone, and from each side proceeds a stone bench, which thus occupies the end and two sides of the chancel. As the table of the arched tomb behind the chair is higher than the back of the throne, arid as this is immovable, it is clear that the divine mysteries could not have been celebrated upon it. A portable altar must, therefore, have been placed before the throne, in an isolated position in the middle of the sanctuary."^ In this dreary realm, then, the Christians for cen turies had their hiding place and almost their home. Here they laid the precious dust of their departed brethren ; here in times of trial they fled for refuge, or met by the lurid' torch light to worsliip their God. The desolate loneliness and dreary noisomeness of the place, where in earlier times the outlaw and the. robber had had their den, suited well the condition of a people who were as the filth of the earth, and- the offscouring of all things, while the numerous inlets and outlets which connected it with the outer world, and the blind labyrinth of its pas sages within afforded endless facilities for concealment or escape. There, even in the worst times, they were for the most part secure; and even when now and then a band of keen pursuers, attracted, perhaps, by the plaintive cadence of holy hymns, faintly heard from afar, suddenly came upon their retreat they had usuaUy time, at the signal of an outlying sentinel, to break up, and scatter, >• This last fact is instructive, as showing that fixed stone altars were unknown in the days of the catacombs, and that the presiding minister stood facing the people while celebrating the Eucharist. CHAPTER III. 106 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. PERIOD and vanish amid the dark labyrinths around, before the 6ETOHD. gjjgjjjy .^gg actua] ly upon them. As time wore on, and successive generations of Christians passed through those gloomy realms to their etemal rest, the sacred associations of the place multiplied and deepened. Nowhere was the suffering Church so much at home as where, far from thc noisy haunts of sinful men, they were surrounded by thc great and ever increasing congregation of those triumph ant saints, from whose bright mansions they felt they were only by a thin veU separated. Everything, too, which they saw around them in rude epitaph and sculptured device, served to remind them of the same blessed hope. The very name of death was unknown even in that city of the dead. ," In Christ;" "in peace;" "deposited and laid to rest in peace;" "Valeria sleeps;"^ — such are the ever recurring expressions of a faith which had shorn death of its gloom, and disarmed it of its sting ; while the sheep on the shepherd's shoulders, the martyr three living amid the the flames, Lazarus rising from the tomb, Noah looking out from the ark, and welcoming the returning dove when the flood was passing awaj'', looking down from the dim walls, spoke to their hearts of strength in weakness, victory in suffering, life in death. The inscriptions are for the most part very brief, consisting often of the simple name of the silent sleeper, or with a single word added signiflcant of rest and peace; sometimes, however, they are longer, ^.nd give fuU expression to the Christian faith and hope of those that rest within, and of those who laid them there. We may give one or two of these as an appropriate close to this sketch, and which may serve as a specimen of the spirit, pensive yet serene, sad yet trium phant, that fills the place, and which pervaded the whole atmosphere of Christian life in those early times. The first is one of those few which contain the date of the ' The designation given to the place— the " cemetery," or sleeping-chamber— spoke nut of dissolution, but of repose. THE CHURCH IN TIIE CATACOMBS. 107 year, and belongs to a time so early as the reign of chapter Hadrian : — J^ IN CHRIST.— IN THE TIME OE THE EMPEROR ADRIAN, MARIUS, A YOUNG MILITARY OPFICER, WHO HAD LIVED LONG ENOUGH, WHEN WITH BLOOD HE GAVE UP HIS LUE POR CHRIST. AT LENGTH HE RESTED IN PEACE. THE WELL DESERVING SET UP THIS IN TEARS AND IN FEAR, ON THE SIXTH BEFORE THE IDES OF The next is of the reign of Antoninus : — ALEXANDER IS NOT DEAD, BUT LIVES ABOVE THE STARS, AND HIS BODY RESTS IN THIS TOMB. HE ENDED HIS LIFE UNDER THE EMPEROR ANTONINUS, WHO, FORESEEING THAT GREAT BENEFIT WOULD RESULT FROM HIS SERVICES, RETURNED EVIL POR GOOD. FOR WHILE ON HIS KNEES, AND ABOUT TO SACRIFICE TO THE TRUE GOD, HE WAS LED AWAY TO EXECUTION. OH, SAD TIMES, IN WHICH AMID SACRED RITES AND PRAYERS, EVEN IN CAVERNS, WE ARE NOT SAFE! WHAT CAN BE MORE WRETCHED THAN SUCH A LIFE? AND WHAT THAN SUCH A DEATH? WHEN THEY CANNOT BE BURIED BY THEIR FRIENDS AND RELATIONS? AT LENGTH THEY SPARKLE IN HEAVEN! HE HAS SCARCELY LIVED WHO HAS LIVED IN CHRISTIAN TIMES. What a strange alternation of faith and fear, sorrow and joy, the wail of anguish and the shout of victory, have we in these imperishable lines ! meet expression of the inward life of that martyr Church, which through so long and weary ages was persecuted but not forsaken, cast down but not destroyed, always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Je.sus might be made manifest in her mortal flesh. We add one or two more, almost at random : — PRIMITIUS, IN PEACE; AFTER MANY TORMENTS, A MOST VALIANT MARTYR. HE LIVED ABOUT THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS. HIS WIPE RAISED THIS TO HER DEAREST HUSBAND, THE WELL-DE SERVING. 108 THE CHURCH imTHE CATACOMBS. PERIOD PAULUS WAS PUT TO DEATH IN TORTURES, IN ORDER THAT HE s^oHK- jiiiQHT LIVE IN ETERNAL BLISS. CLEMENTIA, TORTURED, DEAD, SLEEPS: WILL RISE." LANNUS, CHRIST'S MARTYR, RESTS HERE. HE SUFFERED UNDER DIOCLETIAN. All those yet quoted are memorials of martyr combat and victory, and belong to the public history of the Church. Others, far more numerous, are of a lowlier kind, and reveal only the common incidents of domestic- bereavement and sorrow,-brightened by Christian hope: — FLAVIA JOVINA, WHO LIVED THREE YEARS AND THIRTY DAYS-A NEOPHYTE— IN PEACE. (SHE DIED) THE ELEVENTH BEFORE THE KALENDS. THE SLEEPING-PLACE OF ELPIS. ZOTICUS, LAID HERE TO SLEEP. ASELUS SLEEPS IN CHRIST. NICEPHORUS, A SWEET SOUL, IN THE PLACE OF REFRESHHENT. TO DOMNINA, MY SWEETEST AND MOST INNOCENT WIFE, WHO LIVED SIXTEEN YEARS AND FOUR MONTHS, AND WAS MARRIED TWO YEARS, FOUR MONTHS, AND NINE DAYS : WITH WHOM I WAS NOT ABLE TO LIVE, ON ACCOUNT OF MY TRAVELLING, MORE THAN SIX MONTHS: DUR ING WHICH TIME I SHOWED HER MY LOVE, AS I FELT IT. NONE ELSE SO LOVED EACH OTHER. BURIED ON THE FIFTEENTH BEFORE THE KALENDS OF JUNE. LAURENCE, TO HIS SWEETEST SON SEVERUS, BORNE AWAY BY ANGELS ON THE SEVENTH IDES OF JANUARY. THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 109 ¦ How fondly does bereaved affection linger over each oiiaptee slightest circumstance of the brief life-journey of a dear — '- child in the following: — IN CHRIST; DIED ON THE KALENDS OF SEPTEMBER, POMPEIANUS THE INNOCENT, WHO LIVED SIX YEARS, NINE MONTHS, EIGHT DAYS, AND FOUR HOURS. HE SLEEPS IN PEACE. ONCE THE HAPPY DAUGHTER OF THE PRESBYTER GABINUS, HERE LIES SUSANNA, JOINED WITH HER FATHER IN PEACE. ^ LEVITAE CONIUNX PETRONIA FORMA PVDORIS HIS MEA DEFONENS SEDIBVS OSSA LOCO PARCITE VOS LACRIMIS DVLCES CVM CONIVGE NATAE VIVENJEMftVE DEO CREDITE PLERE NEFAS DP IN PACE III NON OCTOBRIS FESTO VC CONSS. Petronia, a deacon's wife, the type of modesty. — In this place I lay my bones ; spare your tears, dear husband and daugliters, and believe that it is forbidden to weep for one who lives in God. Buried iu peace, on the 3d before the Nones of Octobeiv in the consulate of Festus {i.e. in 472). , HUNC MIHI COMPOSUIT TUMULUM LAURENTIA CONJUX MORIBUS APTA MEIS, SEMPER VENERANDA, FIDELIS. INVIDIA INFELIX TANDEM COMPRESSA ftUIESCIT OCTAGINTA LEO TRAHSCENDIT EPISCOPUS ANNOS. My wife Laurentia made me this tomb ; she was ever suited to my disposition, venerable and faithful. At length disappointed envy lies crushed : the bishop Leo survived his SOth year. 1 Observe the light thrown by these memorials on the question of the marriage of the clergy in early times, as ou many other points. The total absence, for instance, in the early inscriptions of every trace of Mariolatry is most instruc tive. 110 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. period, We resume now the thread of our narrative, which lyis ¦ arrived at that time when the catacombs were most of all the familiar resort of the persecuted flock, and when the congregation of the sUent sleepers was most rapidly gathering. To the sad times with which the third century opened, and whose bloody footprints we, at the close of our last chapter, briefly retraced, there succeeded an interval of repose. The licentious Heliogabalus, and the gentle and virtuous Alexander Severus alike, though, for very op posite reasons, befriended or at least tacitly tolerated the Church. The wild attempt of the one to fuse all religions, and Christianity among the rest, into one, and the nobler eclecticism of the other, ^ which sought to recognise the good, the beautiful, and 'the tnie in every existing form of religious Ufe, were aUke opposed to the principle of persecution. So for a period of seventeen years the Churches of Christ had rest throughout the Sixth per- whole Koman world. But with the assassination of the Maximiii- latter euiperor, and the accession to the throne of his murderer, the savage Maximinus, the storm of persecution awoke anew. In sheer contradiction to the tolerant policy of his predecessor, he unsheathed the sword and at the same time gave full scope to the outbreaks of popular fury which had been excited by some recent earthquakes. The time of trial, however, was very brief, having been cut short by the death of the tyrant liimself within three years, and the course of events again flowed on tranquiUy under the reigns of Gordian and Philip the Arabian. The latter favoured the Christians in so open and marked a manner that he has been regarded by some, though on ' In his private chapel he set up the image of Christ, along with those of Abraham, Orpheus, and Apollonius of Tyana, and had the golden gosoel rule, " As ye would that meu should do unto you," &c., inscribed on the walls of his palace and on publio monuments. Hia mother, Julia Maminiea, was .1 friend and oorrospondeut of Origen. lis, A.D. 230-238. THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. HI. scarcely sufficient grounds, as having been himself a obaptee Christian. j^'^ It will thus have been seen that with but one rude a iond but brief interruption the Church had now enjoyed a long ^""'^ peace of nearly forty years, from the death of Septimius Severus in 211 to that of PhUip in , 249. The deceitful calm was favourable to her growth, but not to her true life and strength. Numbers were increased, but faith was enfeebled and discipline relaxed. The vain and the worldly now swarmed within the Church, on which at last the world had begun to smile, and men entered in flocks within the sacred pale, to which before earnest souls alone had found their way, one by one, by the strait and lowly gate. Hence, iniquity abounded; the love of many waxed cold; scandals were rife; faction and party spirit raged. The little flock of. faithful souls who had forsaken all for Christ, and were piepared any day to die for him,' had grown into a great promiscuous gathering, of whom the majority were Christians only in name, and more than half-heathen in heart. It was thus in the cities and larger town's. In the more thinly peopled rural districts an opposite process of contraction had been going on. In the defect of living faitli and zeal, as weU as of those holy energies of exalted enthusiasm which stirring days excite, the Christian flocks had been gradually dwindling away, or had died out altogether. There were churches with out bishops, and there were bishops without churches. Old positions of strength were abandoned or but feebly defended, and few new conquests were made.'' The salt had lost its savour. The leaven had ceased to spread. Thus in both ways, in her expansion and in her contraction alike, the Church gave signs of a feeble and unhealthy inward state, as of a body enervated by luxury, which at. once grows in . unwieldy bulk ' See Cyprian's Tract de Lapsis, passim. 112 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. t - PERIOD ; at the centre, and at the extremities shrinks and pine's '^^- away. The Church was accordingly but ill-prepared for those days of fiery trial which were again at hand ; and had. Seventh indeed, herself, by her glaring abuses and weaknesses, tioT™ invited the blow which was now struck at her very life. Decius. The stroke itself was well aimed. While in point of A.D. 240- . -i in 1 • 261. extent, consistency, and steadfast purpose, the persecution under Decius exceeded any that had before wasted the Church, it was at the same time directed to that special point which rendered it most formidable in a time of spiritual declension and languor. The great aim was to tempt, not destroy; to produce defection, not rouse to martyrdom. Every expedient and resource, whether of severity or of mercy, were employed with this view. / While from the first a war of extermination was pro- / claimed against the pastors, a gentler treatment was re served for the fiocks. Every penalty short of the extreme doom of death; every promise and indulgence short of fuU exemption from the accursed compliance, were employed by turns to frighten or to cajole. The most ingenious evasions and subterfuges were devised to ensnare the worldly and the wavering. A mere grain of incense cast on the flaming altar — a mere mechanical act that may mean anything or nothing will be enough.^ Even a i certificate from the magistrate, procured no one needs know how, that you have complied with the requisitions of the edict, though you never actually sacrificed, will answer the purpose.^ Nay, a simple deposition, in form, that your \ \ name is enrolled in the protocol of the authorities among ¦ '• those who have yielded obedience, will be accepted as \ \ proof sufficient of the fact.* Numbers took the bait and saved their worldly goods, by the virtual denial, more or less explicit, of their faith. Some even rushed eagerly to the altar as if in haste to wash their hands clean of all ' Thurificati, sacrificati. ' Libellatici. ^ j^^^.^ faoicntes. / THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 113 connection with a religion which had become so dangerous, chapter Others advanced pale and trembling, inwardly writhing i^ on the rack of conscience; and looking as a contem porary tells us, not so much Uke men sacrificing as being themselves sacrificed. Some directly purchased false cer tificates of compliance, others were better plea.sed to have it done by heathen relatives or friends in their behalf without any direct interference of their own. In one way or another the number of defections and implied apostasies was very great. At the first burst of the assault it seemed as ifthe Christian host were thrown into utter disorder, and panic spreading through all its ranks. The spirit of the enemy rose with tiie first success. Fresh measures of severity were adopted, and sanguine hopes were cherisheid of at last accomplishing the utter extermination of a hated sect, against which former emperors had struggled in vain. But the anticipated triumph was soon found to be premature. The spirit of the Church at last rose as the conffict thickened, and she came forth from tbe struggle now, as ever before, victorious. The great cloud of waverers and apostates which the first blast of danger had carried away, was soon .seen to be only a cloud of chaff"; the solid and the precious wheat remained behind. The Church of Eome was at this time specially dis tinguished for the faith and patience of its suffering members. Its Bishop Fabianus was among the first to win the martyr's crown. The prison was filled with her confessors, who, after enduring for two long years the indescribable horrors of a Roman dungeon, could thus write in holy, triumph to their brethren at Carthage : — " What more glorious and blessed lot can fall to man by the grace of God, than to confess God the Lord amidst tortures, and in the face of death itself ; to confess Christ the Son of God with lacerated body, and with a spirit departing, yet free ; and to become" fellow-sufferers with 8 114 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. period Christ in the name of Christ ? Though we have not yet SECOND, gj^g^ Q^jj. IjIqq^^ .j^^g g^j.g ready to do so. Pray for us, then, dear Cyprian, that the Lord, that best captain, would daily strengthen each one of us more and more, and at last lead us to the field as faithful soldiers, armed with those divine weapons which can never be con quered." EiRhth The persecution ceased for the moment at the death of p^* „"„""' the emperor in 251, but was soon renewed under his tions. successor Gallus, and again under Valerian, — forming the Galllis, m 1 T . mi . A.D. 251- so-called eighth and ninth persecutions. The latter reign Valerian, was signallzcd by the martyrdom of two distinguished 200 ^^^ sufferers, Sixtus II., Bishop of Rome, and the iUustrious / Cyprian of Carthage, of whom we shaU have more to say ; hereafter. The touching story, too, of Laurentius, the / Roman deacon, belongs to this period. When commanded ) by the governor to deliver up the treasures of the Church, I he brought forward the sick, the poor, and the orphans i of the congregation, and pointing to them said, "These are our treasures." He was roasted alive on a red hot / gridiron. But the time of deliverance is drawing near. Another tremendous struggle more, and the final victorj' of Christianity and the Church over its great pagan adversary shall have been won. Meanwhile a long breathing time was procured by an edict of Gallienus, the son and suc cessor of Valerian, which accorded to Christians the free exercise of their religion, and, for the first time, at last virtually recognised that religion itself as one of the religiones licitce of the empire. Another Forty years of comparative repose now followed, dur ing which the edict of toleration just mentioned was re spected by successive eraperors, with the single exception of Aurelian, who passed an edict of persecution, but died before it could be carried into effect. Meanwhile the Church grew rapidly in numbers, in wealth, in influence, throughout the whole empire, and the old religion, already lonfcpeace. THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS: 113 wholly bereft of life, dwindled away. Every day the chapter churches, now rising up with some atterapt at outward i^ splendour in the face of day, were raore crowded, and the temples and shrines more deserted. Christians were now to be seen everywhere, and in every rank and sphere of life, — in the palace, in the prsetorian-guard, in the army, in the circles of rank and fashion. An entire revolution of thought and opinion in regard to religious faith was evidently going on, and everything seemed to indicate the rapidly approaching crisis of the gi-eat controversy of hundreds of years. But the very success of the Church was itself its great source of danger. The fanatical ad herents of the old faith, still strong in numbers, and in the brute force of tyrant power, were startled and alarmed, and prepared themselves for a last determined contest, — a struggle as for life or death. The Emperor Dioclesian, who assumed the purple in Tcntii per- 284, though a zealous pagan, had yet, from motives of Dioclesian, policy or prudence, for many years respected the edict of ^^'^i'^"'; Gallienus, and left the Christians undisturbed. His own wife, Prisca, and daughter, Valeria, were, it is said, pro fessors of the Christian faith. At last, however, yielding to the persevering urgency of his son-in-law and co- regent, Galerius, a fanatical pagan zealot, he lent his sanction to a measure which has covered his reign, other wise prosperous, with infamy. Galerius had himself paved the way for decisive action by an arbitrary measure of his own a few years before. He ordained that aU the soldiers in the army under his command should, without exception, take part in the sacrifices tothe gods, and thus compelled every Christian who would not deny his faith to leave the ranks. Five years later matters were ripe for the decisive blow. At a conference of the emperors, held at Nicomedia, then the imperial residence, in the winter and spring of 30.3, a definite plan was matured, and the first steps for a war of extermination taken. On the morning 116 • THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. PERIOD of July 23, at early dawn, the splendid church of Nico- ¦ media was, by imperial command, broken open, sacked, and levelled with the ground. The next day the expected edict appeared, forbidding all Chri.stian assemblies, order ing the churches to be everywhere demolished, the sacred writings destroyed, and all Christians, of whatever rank, deprived of their offices and civil rights. A brave but over-zealous Christian tore down the hated scroll, and in stantly paid the penalty with his life. Another untoward incident speedily followed. A fire broke out in the im perial palace, which Galerius affected to trace to a similar origin, and eagerly seized on as a pretext for measures of increased severity. Meanwhile the fatal edict is travel ling quickly over the length and breadth of the ernpire, awakening the fury of the pagan populace, and carrying dismay into every Christian community, from the Euphrates to the Rhine. The general consternation was increased by the circumstance that in many provinces the edict was proclaimed in the midst of the season of Easter, and thus rang like a death-kneU in the ears of Christians, at the very moment they were preparing, with joy and triumph, to celebrate the resurrection of their Lord. Other edicts of ever-increasing severity followed in suc cession during this and the following year. First the bishops and clergy were to be everywhere seized and imprisoned as ringleaders in treason and impiety. Speedily the dungeons were filled with prisoners of that class. Then followed the third edict, ordaining that every prisoner' should be compelled, by every possible means, to sacrifice; and then the fourtii and last, ex tending the stern mandate, hitherto applicable to the clergy alone, indiscriminately to all. The terrible war was now at its height. To every Christian soul there was but the one alternative of immediate apos tasy, or torture and death. The fires of martyrdom were blazing, with the exceptions only of Britain, Gaul, THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 117 and Spain, throughout the entire bounds of the Roman chapter world. j^ Amid much in this persecution that was common to those which preceded it, there was one device of the enemy which was distinctly new and original. Not only now were the churches to be broken up, and the pastors cut off or banished, but the sacred books of the Old , and New Testaments were to be searched out, seized, and committed to the fiames. Every copy of the Holy volume, and every fragment of it, was, if possible, to be banished from the world. There was, at least, in this idea a kind of fiendish sagacity. It struck, at last, at the root of the matter ; and could it only have struck .successfully, would doubtless have struck effectually and fatally. Hitherto the persecutors had only lopped off the branches, now they have found the root, — and the main root at last. Congregations before had been broken up, scattered, decimated ; but new members rose up in the room of their martyred brethren, and the fiocks rallied again stronger than ever, when the storm was past. Pastors were cut off" by fire or sword, but other pastors as brave and faithful were ready to take their places. Martyr succeeded martyr in the same episcopal chair in long succession, and yet never was there wanting a man ready to accept the dangerous distinction. That plan, then, had failed. The field had been mown down again and again, but again and again a new harvest, richer than ever, had sprung up from the old seed. But now let that seed itself be destroyed. Let the Bible, from which the Church sprung, be itself annihilated, and the Church will speedily die out, and perish utterly from the earth. This subtle device had but one defect It could not possibly be carried into effect. The sacred treasure was in too many hands, and too many of those hands were brave and faithful, to make any such attempt at extermination practicable. The precious deposit. 118 TRE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. watched over by an omniscient providence, was in the guardianship of thousands of true hearts, that would rather die than betray the trust. As it was, the measure was but very partially carried out. Many governors scarcely made a serious attempt to execute it. Either from friendly feelings to individual ecclesiastics, or more pro bably from an utter inability to comprehend the impor tance of getting possession of a few obscure and worthless manuscripts, they prosecuted the business often with a slack and careless hand, readily accepting any writings that were offered to them, without inquiring whether they were the required documents or not. A few copies only here and there were deUvered up by unfaithful hands ; and the traitors were branded by the Church as a new class of apostates, under the name of Traditores. Now, as on former occasions, the great engine of per secution was torture, and the aim rather to turn away believers from their steadfastness than to take their Uves; but as in thousands of instances the confessors stood steadfast to the last, these tortures were in the result only a more lingering and agonizing form of death. The Church at this time seems to have been better prepared for the day of trial than in the former persecution under Decius, and the number of defections was accordingly smaller, and of triumphant martyrdoms greater. The detaUs of blood and horror are so dreadful that they would scarce admit of belief, did they not rest on the unimpeachable authority of a contemporar}^^ There may be a tinge of rhetorical description in the pictures which Eusebius gives of the sufferings of his brethren, but his substantial veracity cannot be caUed in question. The flesh creeps as we read the horrible recital of mutilation and torture. They were scourged, he tells us, tUl the flesh came off from the bones, and then vinegar and salt 1 See Eusebius, Hist Eoc, Bb. viii.-x. ; as also, Lactantius de Mortibus Fersecutorum, THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 119 were poured into the wounds. They were tied to miU- obapier stones, and sunk in the sea. They were stretched upon i!L the rack tiU all their limbs were wrenched asunder. They were suspended by one arm, or hung in chains, till the sharp edges of the links cut the flesh ; or fastened naked to the boughs of contiguous trees bent together, and then torn asunder by the quick rebound. Their fingers were pierced with sharp awls, from the naU down wards. Boiling oil, glowing and bubbling, was poured along the hoUow of their naked back. They were con sumed with slow fires — sometimes suspended with their head downwards, and the fire kindled beneath. Tender maidens were exposed to brutal dishonour, and ndt sel dom sought refuge from a horrid fate in voluntary death. Whole families were saciificed at once. Great fires were kindled, in order, by whole hecatombs of victims, to ex pedite the work of death. Ten, thirty, sixty were slain at a time, — men, women, and children. In one case an entire Christian town was first surrounded by a cordon of armed men, and then given, with all its inhabitants, to the flames. At last the horrid work began to flag. Men and wild beasts paused through very satiety of slaughter. "The very swords. themselves," says Eusebius, "at length became blunt and broken, being worn out with use. The executioners grew weary and gave over their functions ; but the Christians, till the last breath of their life, sang songs of praise and thanksgiving to Almighty God." In truth this last and fiercest war against the Lamb and against his true foUowers had proved, like all that went before it, a faUure in the conviction even of its savage promoters themselves. At one time, indeed, they had exulted as in an assured triumph, and had already added to the imperial titles a narae commemorative of the utter extinction of the Christian name, and the fuU resto ration of the ancient faith of Rome. But this vain boast issued only in discomfiture and mockery. The fires 120 THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. PERIOD burned, but the Church lived amid the flames, and was ¦ only the more proved to be indestructible. A fresh attempt, indeed, was made by Maximin, a fierce pagan, who now entered the imperial Une as colleague to Galerius, to revive the slumbering fires. In the very frenzy of fanatic zeal he ordained that eatables of eveiy kind sold in the market should be sprinkled with sacri ficial water or wine, that every one might be compelled thus either to participate in the pagan rites or starve. This was in the year 308. Two years afterwards we find the work of death stUl going on — doubtless under the sariie auspices — in Palestine, where we hear of thirty- nine confessors beheaded at once. That, however, was the last blood spilt in this dreadful time. The very year after, Galerius, the original author of the persecution him self, brought at last to his senses by a dreadful disease, gave orders for its final discontinuance. He confessed that the design he had in view of exterminating the Christian faith had failed, and that he had accordingly resolved to tolerate a worship which he could not sup press ; stipulating only that the Christians should in their sacred assemblies pray for the welfare of their rulers and of the empire. But the time was at hand when the despised faith of the Cross was not to be a tolerated sect only, but the dominant and triumphant religion of the world. The sun of Constantine is afready risen, and with it the dawn of a new day for the Church and for the world. Succeeding his father, Constantius, in the provinces of Gaul, Britain, and Spain, where, Uke him, he pursued a policy of toleration towards the Chris tians, he is now in fuU march at the head of victorious legions towards Rome, where, conquering all adversaries, he enthrones liimself in the old palace of the Caesars. His first act is to issue a proclamation of peace and pro tection to the Christian Church, dated from Milan, in the year 313. A few years more, and all his remaining THE CHURCH IN THE CATACOMBS. 121 rivals are gone, and he remains undisputed master of the chapter whole Roman world. i^ The outward confiict of the Church with the brute force of imperial heathenism is at an end ; henceforth her struggles, never finally to cease till the consummation of all things against the powers and principles of evil, will be of another, but it may be not less formidable kind. 122 THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. CHAPTEE IV. THE FATHERS OF THE MAKTYE AGE. PERIOD Amongst the more prominent men of the Martyr Church — there are fivewhich stand outconspicuouslyin the Uterature of the times as her inteUectual leaders and guides. They are the chief spokesmen of her inner life, as they were also amongst the foremost and bravest of her actors. They are emphatically representative men; each stands as the type of a class, each occupies a most intimate rela tion with some one of the leading phases of the inteUectual and spiritual struggles of the age. The»biography of their lives is also the theological history of their times. Availing ourselves of this fact, we shall in the present chapter combine those two subjects, interspersing with the few but precious lines of personal reminiscence which history has preserved to us, such rapid sketches of contemporary doctrines and controversies as the Umits of this history wUl permit. The names and the subjects which thus fall to be grouped together are the following : — I. Justin Martyr, and Christian apologetics ; II. Irenseus, and the Gnostic controversy ; III. Origen, and the Alexandrian theology; IV. TertuUian, and the Montanistic movement; V. Cyp rian, and the dogma of the Church. jdstik I. Flavius Justinus, surnamed, almost from his own ""^"^ time, by honourable pre-eminence, " the philosopher and martyr," was born, about the close of the first century, at Flavia Neapolis, the ancient Sychem, in Palestine. He thus first drew breath, just at the time when the last of the apostles was quitting the scene. The circumstance was almost significant. Sanctified human culture was preparing quickly to take the place of the divine super- THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 123 natural light that was passing away. He was of heathen ohapteei extraction, and heathen though liberal education. From JUl a very, early period, however, he had become a seeker after truth. Disdaining the wild fables and the rank superstitions of the reigning popular reUgions, he sought, in the schools of philosophy and in converse with other inquiring spirits around him, that deeper wisdom which was hid from the blinded many. He looked around him on every side for light, wistfully groping after God amid the dim shadows, if peradventure he might find him. He betook himself now to one school of heathen sages, now to another, and was a disciple of the Stoics, of the Peripatetics, and of the Pythagoreans by turns. In the rest lessness of unsatisfied longing, he traveUed from land to land and from city, to city in the prosecution of the same all-absorbing quest. Now he is at Rorae, now at 'Athens, now at Alexandria, but ever on the same errand, ever wrestling with the same mighty problems, which in those days were at once the puzzle and the torment of the struggling reason and the yearning heart. In hira the kingdom of heaven was in very deed like unto a mer chantman seeking goodly pearls. At last, in the sublime reveries of the Platonic school, he seemed to himself to stand on the threshold of the great discovery; to be on the very eve of the elect soul's promised fruition, — the intuitive and ineffable vision of God. He stood on the threshold, but the gate of life opened not ; he remained a seeker and unsatisfied still. It was about this time that his attention was powerfully attracted to the Chris tian religion and its professors by the sublime constancy and calm triumphant deaths of the martyrs in behalf of that truth which they believed that tbey had found, but which he was only seeking. Can these be the profes sors, he thought, of that vile and ignoble superstition of wliich he had so often heard, and whose secret orgies of brutal licentiousness had become the scoff and byeword SECOND. 124 THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD of the civilized world 1^ His traditionary faith was shaken, and many thoughts stirred within him, but as yet without any definite result. But the set time came at last. Walking one day in solitary reverie by the sea shore, he encountered an old inan of mUd and reverend aspect, who, recognising in his customary garb the badge of a professed seeker after truth, at once accosted him, and entered into converse with him in regard to those great questions which it is the business of the true wisdom to resolve. With skUful hand he touched the deepest springs of the young raan's heart, pointing out what human philosophy had promised and what it had done, and where it had failed. He directed him to the inspired Scriptures as the one source of sure and certain know ledge. " It is there," said he, " that you will find every thing which it concerns you to know for the attainment of true happiness. But above all," he added, " ask of God to open your heart to the light, for without the wiU of God and of his Son Jesus Christ, it is not given to any man to attain the truth." .The heart of Justin burned within hira as he listened to the words of one who spoke to hira as none had ever spoken before, and he lost no time in obeying the counsel of his venerable teacher. He searched the Scriptures, and in them found " that he had eternal life." In the subUme oracles of the Old Testament prophets, in their fulfilment in the gospel history, and above all in the words and works of Jesus himself, who spake as never man spake, and lived as never man lived before, he recognised the clear impress of a divine original, and his eyes gra dually opened to the discovery of the one pearl of great price which he had sought so long. Thenceforth the gospel was enthroned as the true sovereign of his soul, and gloried in, in life and in death, as " the only true philosophy." 1 See page 86. THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 125 Having found the truth, his one business in life here after was to publish and advance it. " Every one," said he, "who can preach the truth, and does not preach it, incurs the judgment of God," and his whole existence, from his conversion to his martyrdora, was a living com mentary on the words. As before he had travelled the world over in the search after truth, so now he did the same in proclaiming the truth when found. The mer chantman who had so earnestly sought the goodly pearl, was never weary of displaying it and comraending to other seekers round. He still retained as of old his philosopher's cloak,^ and followed, as before, the profession of an itinerant philosophic teacher, only that now he spoke with the authority of one who not only loved but pos sessed the true wisdom. Day by day might he be seen in the crowded thoroughfare of some of the great cities of the erapire, and most often of Rome itself, discoursing to eager^ groups of listeners and inquirers of the deep things of God, literally realizing the inspired picture of the .celestial wisdom which ciietl^ without and lifteth up her voice ih the streets. The idle passers-by were attracted b}'^ the well-known garb which they reverenced in their own heathen teachers, and approaching with a prejudice in his favour, saluted hira with " Hail, sage philosopher,"^ and waited to hear what he had to say about that new wisdora from the east. Of the details of those labours of faith and love, and of their success, no record has been preserved ; but, from the deep irapres,? which his name and character left upon his age, and the fragrance of grateful and reveiential memory which lingered behind him in the Church, we cannot doubt that he was one of the most influential instruments of his tirae in advancing the kingdora of God. To his oral testiraony in behalf of the truth, he added abundant and effective labours in the sphere of Ghristian literature. A dialogue with the 1 Tpi^biv, Tpi^>iviov, Pallium. ^ lnXotTot^ xo-'-p^. chapter IV. 126 THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD Jew Trypho,^ and two "apologies" of defences of the SECOND. Qhj.jgj;ja^Q iaiih addressed respectively to the emperors Antoninus Pius and Marcus Aurelius, still survive from amidst a mass of other writings, either lost or of doubtful authenticity, to attest the learning, the eloquence, and the holy ardour with which he pled the cause he loved before the great tribunal of the world. An activity so great and so conspicuous could not fail to attract the attention and arouse the hostility of the pagan authorities and populace, but it was not until the terrible days of Marcus Aurelius that the blow which had been so long impend ing was struck at last. On the accusation of a cyiiic philosopher of the name of Crescens, whose jealous ani mosity he had incurred, he was airaigned with six others before the heathen tribunal on a charge of contempt for the gods, and condemned to die. His flnal testimony and calm triumphant end were worthy of his life, and constituted his best and most powerful " apology." Being asked ironically by the prefect if he beUeved that after his decapitation he would ascend to heaven, " I am so sure," he replied, " of the grace which Jesus Christ hath obtained for me that not a shadow of doubt can enter my mind." He was commanded instantly to sacrifice to the gods. He refused, saying, " We desire nothing better than to suffer for our Lord Jesus Christ ; for this gives us salvation aud joyfulness before his dreadful judgment seat, at which all the world must stand." These were his his last words. It was at Rorae in the year 166 that, like the great apostle of the Gentiles, whose character in many respects he resernbled, he fell like a Roman citizen by the heads man's axe, and thus won the martyr's crown, together with the honoured name by which he has been ever since known and revered in the Church of God. Justin was only the chief of a numerous band of ' A little after a.d. 139. THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 127 learned apologists, who were at this period raised up to chapter meet the call of the times by the intellectual and scientific ill advocacy of the Christian cause. Quadratus,^ Bishop of ^''^j^°|^J'^ Athens, Aristides, and Athenagoras,^ philosophers of the same city, Aristo of Pella, Melito^ of Sardis, Claudius Apol linaris^ of Hiefapolis, MUtiades,^ Tatian^ of Assyria, Theo philus of Antioch,* Origen of Alexandria, TertuUian of Car thage, — such were only the leading names in the muster- roll of a great army which in those days fought the battle of the faith with the weapons of learned research and cul tured reason. The numerous apologies, of greater or less intellectual power, which thus appeared have most of them long since perished, but from the character of those which survive we may easily form an idea of the general sub stance of the arguraent which they aU maintained. In its main features it did not differ widely from the line of advocacy generally followed to this day. The external evidence of miracle ^ and prophecy, the intrinsic excellence and purity of the gbspel doctrine itself, its adaptation to all the deeper wfi.nts of man and fulfilment alike of human longings and divine oracles and promises, its mar vellous efficacy in purifying, elevating, healing, and strengthening the soul, its might in weakness, its victori ous progress in the face of persecution and of martyrdora, the very " testimony of the soul " " itself, whensoever it awakes from its dreams, and its own natural unperverted voice is heard — such were the raain pleas of the great argument then, just as they are now. In the mode of presenting that argument there was often of course much 1 A disciple of the apostles, and flourished in the reign of Hadrian. " Under Marcus Aurelius. 'A pupil of Justin, but afterwards fell into Gnostic errors, and founded the sect of the Encratites. * Obiit. 181. His work addressed to an educated heathen friend, named Auto- lycus, displays classic culture, philosophic acumen, and graphic power. 5 In Justin's day the Christian miracles seem to have been scarcely ever ques tioned as facts, but only traced by Pagan adversaries to magical arts. ^ Testimonium Animaa naturaliter Christiana!— the title of a very remarkable apologetic work of Tertullian. 128 THE FA THERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD of huihan imperfection and weakness. In particular" we sKcoHD. Qf^gjj gj^jj jjj ^^jg writings of the best authors of that age an uncritical facility in the admission of facts, and an ' almost puerile fancifulness in the use of arguments, which to a modern reader detracts much from their force and cogency. Those, however, were the faults, not of the men, but of the age, and left untouched the intrinsic merits ofthe cause the}'^ pled, and which, spite of all the resources of phUosophic subtlety and keen-witted ridicule arrayed against it, gradually conquered for itself a place, not only in the affection and reverence, but in the deepest convictions of the world. iREx.ED.'i. II. iRENiEXis, bishop of the Church of Lyons, in southern Gaul, and the great champion of the anti-Gnostic controversy, was a junior contemporary of Justin. At the time the one was witnessing his last confession at Rome, the other was probably just entering on his early ministry in the provincial city. He was already a lead ing member of the Church, and had been ordained as a presbyter by the venerable Pothinus when the terrible persecution broke out in 177. Though, from circura stances of which we know nothing, his lot was early cast in the west, and by far the raost important part of his life was spent there, he was by birth a native of Asia Minor and had been brought up at the feet of the saintly Polycarp, the contemporary and disciple of the apostle John. Vividly and fondly, in long after yeai-s, did Irenseus i-ecall those happy days of his youth, and the wonder and awe with which he heard the old man tell of the words and the deeds of holy apostles and evan gelists who had ju.st a little before passed away from earth, and with whom he was the one remaining con necting link. The very spot where in those days he used to sit and discourse, the way in which he entered .and went out, his manner and gait, all remained impressed THE FATIIERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 129 on his memory to his dying day. At the time of the chapter persecution he was absent at Rome, on an honourable ^li. mission of conciliation in connection with the Montanistic controversy, and returned just in time to witness the scene of desolation which the recent massacre had left behind. It is to his pen, perhaps, that we owe the touching record of those days of trial which was sent in name of the Church to their brethren in Asia Minor, and from which Ave have quoted in a former chapter. He was at once chosen to fill the vacant seat of the martyred Pothinus, and thenceforth occupied that prominent place of influence and authority in the universal Church that of right belonged to him. For thirty-four years he ruled his Church and fed his flock with exemplary dili gence, fidelity, and loving zenl. He was at once the pastor, the bishop, the missionary, and the bold defender of the faith. Combining in a rare degree the thought ful depth of the East with the practical tact and energy of the Western mind, he was at once the theologian and the Churchman, and formed a mediating power between the diverse and opposing tendencies of his age. Of a spirit at once mild and firm, conciliatory in lesser points, and uncompromising in essential matters of the faith,^ he was in his age what the last of the apostles had been in his — by turns the gentle disciple of love and the stout Boanerges of the truth. He ,died, as it has been sup posed, as a martyr, in the reign of Septimius Severus, in the year A.D. 202. The great work of his life was the defence of the pui-e onosu- gospel of Christ against the insidious and pernicious theo- "™' ries of the Gnostics, which had just before reached their climax of bold and impious speculation, and threatened to sap the very foundations of the Christian faith. The 1 This pharacter was conspicuously displayed both in the Montanistic contro versy in the days of the £oman bishop Eleutherus, and in the Easter contro versy under Victor — in each of which he holds the middle ground of uncom promising decision in essentials, and charitable forhearance in minor matters. 9 PERIOD SECOND. 130 THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. nature and drift of those speculations are generally indi cated by the narae. They aimed at a religion of know ledge (yvwais), in contradistinction to the common religion of faith. Not content with the simple and authoritative answer to the most urgent questions of humanity — " What shall I ^o to be saved?" " How shall man be just with God?" — the.y aspired to nothing less than a universal Christian philosophy, which should explain aU mysteries and solve all problems concerning heaven and eaitb, God and man, time and eternitj'^. Mistaking the tree of knowledge for the tree of life, they toiled in vain to cUmb its slippery stem and to pluck the fruit, which here, at least is beyond the reach of mortal hand. The ques tions with which they wrestled, and which lay at the basis of all their endless theories, were such as are common to speculative minds of every age, and whicb remain to this day unsolved — " What is the origin of the world, of sin, of the mingling and struggling of good and evil, light and darkness, life and death, everywhere around us ? What is the relation between God and man, the created and the uncreated? What is to come of the world, of humanity, of the universe?" To such ques tions as these, which the«toUs of many centuries have long since proved insoluble, and which the wisest minds, accordingly, are content to leave as they are, tUl the Omniscient himself shall please to lift the veU, the more speculative spirits of that age flew with an eager interest of which we can now scarcely form a conception ¦ — not in the desire only, but in the sanguine hope, to gi'fisp the book of mystery, and unloose all its seals. In the lack of solid data for investigation, their great in strument of speculation was an unbridled poetic fancy. Driven perforce from the world of realities, they betook themselves to the world of dreams, and built up their sys tems out ofthe airy nothings they met with there. Avail ing themselves of the existing materials of speculative THE FATIIERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 1,31 thought thej' found ready to their hand, in the Oriental chapter theosophy, the Grecian philosoph}', andr the facts of the JIl gospel history, they fashioned them by the plastic power of a speculative fancy into systems as varied, as unsubstan tial, and soirietimes also as gorgeous, as the cloud scenery of an evemng feky. Our .space forbids any detaU of their endless schools and sects,^ or even a bare enuraeration of their favourite teachers; but a general line of thought runs, raore or less distinctly, through thera all, which may be thus briefly sketched: — ^Tliere is one primal source of being, the absolute and infinite God, the eternal "deep,"^ the etemal "silence,"^ dwelling for evermore apart in the solitude of his own unapproachable essence, bej^ond the sphere of tirae and cliange. Frora him the universe sprang, not by creation, but by emanation. From the depths of his eternal being there went forth before all worlds, in sublime procession, a series of imraortal essences or aeons,* rays from the one essential and everlasting light, each partaking of the divine Ufe of their eternal Father, but in measure diminishing with their distance in order of birth from the primal source of all. These seons, to which were given such naraes as mind, reason, power, truth, life,' and which were manifestly but the impersonated conceptions of the divine attributes and energies coming forth into manifestation, were figured according to the taste of the different theorists, now as going forth single, now in pairs joined together in a kind of transcendental, heavenly wedlock.® Together they constituted the Pleroma,^ or divine fulness — the bright spirit- world of light and life, which the eternal Father vivifies and irradiates everraore with his ineffable and beatific presence. That is the true world, of which that 1 See, however, for such details, in Appendix — Gnostic 'teachers and Sects. 2 Bu«ot. J* Si-y^. ¦* Aiw, a space or period of time ; an age or generation ; a long period of tirae ; eternity. — L. and S.'s Greek Lexicon.' ¦'* Nov9, Aoyos, iT(}if>ia, Suvh/jll^, aXriBeta, ^wij, &c. ^ Sufuytat. ' nAijfiMfia,, opposed to iceViofia, the region of night and nothingness. 132 THE FATHERS OF THE MERTYR AGE. PERIOD which we see is but the dark and unsubstantial shadow. SETOND. ^g^ however, the effulgence of the divine effluence dimi nishes with the distance from tbe central Source, tbere is necessarily a point on the far outskirts where light melts into darkness, and a dim region of twiUght gloom forms the border land between the realms of Ufe and death, being and no being, fulness and nothingness. It was here that the nether world took its origin. From that intermediate region between the spheres of good and evil went forth the lowest and the weakest of the aeons, as the Demiurgus,^ or world-creator, and built up with such materials as he could find, knd with the dim Ught and limited powers which he possessed, that visible frame of creation which we now behold, and which bears the traces alike of the greatness and of the imperfection of its archi tect. Hence the constant struggle of good and evU, life and death, matter and spirit, with which all creation groans — betraying everywhere the handiwork of one who wrought in a great measure blindly, and while making much, could make nothing perfect So the whole was in great measure a failure, an abortion. With the blind elements of rude matter with which he mainly wrought, were mingled some scanty germs of a higher origin — sorae faint, struggUng rays of iramortal life from the world of light above. This constituted the true , soul of the world, aud especially of its higher rational forms, who.se twofold nature seemed to divide them between the realms of light and darkness. This higher life in a dead mate rial frame — this " nether wisdom"^ drawn from the upper sphere — was, as it were, an alien and an exile here. So, wherever it was found, it was ever pining after its true home, chafing with its prison bars, and struggling to be free. Some had more of that divine element, some less; some were spiritual^ m^r\, some psychical,^ some carnal,^ accord- 1 Arifiiou/jyA, a term used by Plato iu a similar sense, 2 Kdrti) So^la. '^ ITi/eu/lttTtKot. IV. THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 133 ing as the higher or the lower principle had the ascendency, chapter or both ruled with equal sway within the soul. To the first class belonged all the elect and aspiring souls of every age and country; to the second, the Jews and all other votaries of a merely moral and legal system ; to the last, the sensual herd, that live and die like the beasts that perish, and are the worthless offscourings of the world. It was to the middle sphere that the Demiurgus and his regime belonged. He was the peculiar god of the Jews, the founder of their national polity and distinctive economy of legal and cereriionial ordinances, which, like the creation itself, bore the impress of a great but limited intelligence. To perfect that economy, as well as to deliver his people from their enemies, he had promised them a Messiah according to his own views, whom the Jews, understanding the proraise correctlj- as he intended, ardently expected. It was in these circum stances that the divine Redeemer came into the world, not to fulfil the Jewish expectation, but take advantage of it. The first and the brightest of all the immortal seons, he came to deliver the spirit-born of every land from the cruel bondage in which they had been held. Pitying alike the .subjects of the stern Demiurgus and the slaves of material nature, he came to break their bonds and set them free. Assuming the semblance of a human forra — for the essential pravity of matter forbade his a.ssuming raore — that as a raan he raight converse with man on earth, he revealed to thera the true gnosis, woke up within them the slumbering spark of higher inteUi gence, and taught their souls to rise to the supreme eternal God, whora as yet they knew not. The carnal- minded Jews scorned that pure spiritual doctrine, and iu murderous rage rose against its august teacher; but his celestial nature forbade that he should die, save in illusive appearance. So while the frenzied crowd were shouting in mockery, and feasting their eyes, as they deemed, on 134 THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD his dying agonies, he had passed already out of sight, SETOND. ^j^^ ascended to God, whither he will, in the due time, lead all those who are like-minded with him, and who long and pine for that bright clime whither he has gone before.^ Such in substance was the system, bright but unsub stantial, in which fact and fiction. Christian ideas and heathen fancies and drearas are so strangely mingled together, which in those days supplanted in many specu lative minds the simple gospel of Christ, and which exercised a certain fascination over many who did not fully embrace it. One can easily imagine the indignant lecoil with which an earnest believer like Irenseus must have regarded such wild and misty reveries. One who leant like him on the warm bosom of the " Word made flesh," could not but turn with scorn from that vain jargon of imraortal seons and Ulusive phantasms, and alraost cry out with her of old, " They have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him." To its refutation and extermination, therefore, he de voted his life, arid his greatest extant work^ on the subject remains a monument of tlie sanctified learning, energy, and zeal which he consecrated to the task. Scripture His wcapons were two-fold, — the testimony of the word, tion and the testimony of the Church. In the one he found the one infaUible source and test of the truth ; in the 1 The student will observe that the whole of these wild theories revolve around one or two root-principles, which run more or less through them all, namely, 1. The doctrine of emanations (irpo^oA^, emanatio): 2. Of dualism, or the co-exist ence of two eternal powers of good and evil, with the connected theory of the essential pravity of matter (vA>i), as belonging to the latter sphere ; 3. Of the Logos (Aoyo?); i. The Demiurgus. ' *EA£Yxos Ka*t avaTpoTTTj tijs ^evSatvoftov yvwireu?, existing in a Complete form only in a Latin translation, under the title Adversus Hcereses, in five books. Of his other works a few fragments alone survive, — namely, 1. From a letter against Flovinus, on the origin of evil and the unity of God ; 2. From another letter to the Roman Bishop Victor, on the Easter question ; 3. From another to Blastus, on schism ; 4. Frora a treatise on the peculiarities of the style of St. Paul ; 6. On the "true knowledge" (y"'"? akifiivri) ; ^. On the Eucharist; 7. On the duty of forbearance in subordinate points of difference ; 9. On the design of the Incarnation. THE FATHERS OF THE MARTYR AGE. 135 other its Uving witness. What the Scriptures taught, chapter and which the heretics could not disguise, save by mutila- ill tion or interpolation, the Church throughout all the world with one voice proclaimed. While error was various, endless, truth was but one, and spoke alike from every page of the apostolic writings and from every episcopal see of the apostolic Churches. On the latter of these two arguments he lays perhaps more stress than is consistent with our prevailing Protestant views of tradition and the Church; yet we are to remember that in those days, within two generations of the death of St. John, the oral witness of the Churches, and even of individual teachers, really possessed a validity as evidence of the actual doctrine of apostolic men and apostoUc times which could not in after ages belong to it. That evanescent wilting on the sands of time might be read then, though the tides of a thousand years have long since swept it away. The Church, too, whose witness he invoked, was not the mere hierarchy, but the living body of faithful and holy men. " Wherever the Church is," says he, " there is the Spirit, and wherever the Spirit is, there is the Church," thus striking at the root alike of sectarian division and of ecclesiastical despotism at once. Yet there is, perhaps, something significant, as has been remarked by Neander, in the order in which these two ideas stand in his mind, as indicating the first germs of a false ecclesiasticism.''- As it was, the blow was Avell aimed, and effectually did its "i the high ideal of the ardent Tertullian, a picture in its main lines at least drawn from the life. "Let us try to ' The authorities on which this descriptive sketch is founded are too numerous to be referred to in detail, hut the student will find them in such works as those of Bingham, Augusti, Biddle, and Coleman, on Christian Antiquities ; Bunsen'a Hippolytus; and Neander's Church History, and Memorials of Christian Life;— to the last of which, especially, I have been much indebted both for important views and illustrative extracts. CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. 179 form an image of her. Her countenance is tranquil and chapter placid ; her forehead is smooth, and marked by no 2l_ wrinkles of sorrow or of anger ; her eyebrows cheerfully ''''='."''' "' unknit ; her eyes directed downward, in humility, riot patience. in grief; a complexion such as belongs to the unanxious and the innocent. ... She perfects martyrdom, she con soles the poor, she teaches moderation to the rich, she does not let the weak overstrain themselve,s, she does not coiisumethe strength of the strong, she rejoices the believer, she allures the heathen, she makes the slave well-pleasing to his master, and his master to God, she is loved in a boy, .she is praised in a youth, is honoured in the aged, is beautiful in every sex, in every age. . . . Where God is, there is his foster-daughter. Wherever, therefore, the Spirit of God descends, this divine patience is his inseparable companion. Can the Spirit abide where she does not at the same time find adraission ? Without his companion and handmaid he wfll always and every where be grieved. This is the nature, and these are the acts of heavenly and genuine, — that is, of Christian patience."^ Assuredly a religion which first revealed that The student, I am sure, will thank me if I give in full the original of this fine passage and a few others, which to attempt translating is to destroy ; — '* Fidem munit, pacem gubernat, dilectionem adjuvat, humilitatem instruit, poenitentiam expectat, exoraologesin assignat, carnem regit, spiritum servat, linguam frenat, manum' continet, tentationes iiiculcat, scandala pellit, martyria consummat, pauperem consolatur, divitem temperat, infirmum non extendit, valentem non consumit, fidelem delectat, gentilem invitat, servum domino, dominum Deo commendat, fceminam exornat, virum approbat, amatur in puero, laudatur in juvene, suspicitur in sene ; in omni sexu, in omni aetate formosa est. Age jam sis, et etBgiem habituuique ejus comprehendamus. Vultus ilii tran- quillus et placidus, frons pura, nulla morons aut irse rugositate contracta; remissa seqne in laetum modum supercilia, oculis humilitate non infelicitate de- jectis ; os taciturnitatis honore signatum : color qualis securis et innoxiis ; motus frequens capitis in diabolum et minax risus ; cet«rum amictus circum peetora candidus, et corpori impressus, ut qui nee inflatur nee iuquietatur. Sedit enim in throne spiritus ejus mitissimi et mansuetissimi, qui non turbine glomeratur, linn Dubilo livet, sed est tenerae serenitatis, apertus et simple^, quem tertio vidit Helias.' Nam ubi Deus, ibidem et alumna ejus, patientia scilicet. Cum ergo Spiritus Dei descendit individua patientia comitatur eum. Si non eaiu cum Spiritu admiserimus, in nobis morabitur semper 1 Imo nescio cur diutius perseveret. Sine sua comite ao ministra omni loco ac tempore angatur necesse est." — De Patientia, dh. xv. 1 1 Kings xix. : Matt, ixvii. 3, seq. 180 CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD bright and holy vision to the eyes of men, and to so SECOND. gj,gg^^. ^j^ extent embodied it in life, could not but attract the world's wonder and awe, even while it provoked its bitterest enmity and scorn. Brotherly The brotherly love of the early Christians has long since passed into a proverb. " Behold how these Chris tians love one another!" was the frequent exclamation of the heathen around. Stronger than all the ties of country, kindred, common friendship, mutual interest, — yea, even than life itself, it constituted a mysterious bond, secret but indissoluble, which awoke at once the wondfer and tbe fear of the world, as a power danger ous to society and the state. It formed a vast con federation outside the law, and independent of it, and which had proved in the confiict stronger even than the empire itself Rome could burn Christians and scatter Churches, but she. could not break the bond that united Christians in life and death together. Even the wide gulph which in that old world separated the bond from the free was forgotten in that coramon sacred brother hood. The patrician and the slave sat together at the same comraunion table, and erabraced each other in the holy kiss. The slave knew and felt that he waa Christ's freeman, and the freeman owned that he was Christ's General bondsmau. Nor was her divine charity confined within cbaiity. ^jjg Umits of her own membership. Like her Master she went forth as a messenger of mercy to the world, and went about everywhere doing good. A stranger for the most part in the court and in the forum, she was fami liarly known in prisons, in mines, and in the homes of suffering and of sorrow. Such works of mercy TertulUan speaks of as the common and everyday occupation of the Christian matron, and condemns mixed marriacres of Christians with Pagans especiaUy as interfering with their discharge. It was no vain boast when the martyr Laurentius pointed to the Church's poor as her true riches CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. 181 and glory. In times of public calamity, her noble self- chapter sacrifice occasionally displayed itself in such a manner as Jj_ to compel the homage of the world itself During the plague at Alexandria in the reign of Gallienus, the Christians tended the sick, and buried the dead, from whom their heathen relatives had fied in terror, and in Carthage near the same time the streets were Uterally covered -with corrupting corpses, and a fearful increase of the pestilence had become in consequence imminent, when the heroic heart of Cyprian, rising with the danger, urged him forward to stand between the living and the dead. He assembled his clergy and people, and after an animat ing exhortation, oi'ganized and sent them forth on the mission of mercy. The dead were soon buried, the sick tended and relieved, and the dreaded danger averted. Thus did the Church, treading in the footsteps of her Lord, know how to bless them that cursed her, and to pray for them that despitefully used her and persecuted her. As the whole world, as it then existed, presented itself idea of the to the minds of the Christians as a vast organized system j^lJ^g"" of evil, as the very embodiment on earth of that king dom and power of darkness from which divine grace had redeemed them, the raost prominent ideas of the Christian life and calling were those of resistance and of separation. The world they saw before them was not God's world, but the devil's world ; in it, therefore, they could have no interest and no place, and their one duty in regard to it was to stand apart from, and to fight against it. Their one business on earth was to escape the world's poUutions, and to wage a ceaseless war against the world's sins. Having gone forth to Christ without the camp of earthly society Mmtia and feUowship, they could approach that camp no more tia"^ save 8..S strangers and enemies, with the weapons of a holy warfare in their hands. Hence the favourite images 182 CHIUSTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD under which they delighted to picture forth their holy sBoosD. calling were those of the Christian soldier, and the royal priesthood ; the one bodying forth raore particularly the idea of resistance, and the other of separation. Of the .two the forraer was perhaps the more familiar and the more spirit-stirring. Consecrated from the first by the burning words of the greatest of the apostles, whose heroic soul ever caught fire at the very thought, it was in har mony with all the most vivid and impiessive associations of the age. The power of Rome lay in her soldiers. The army was the empire. The immortal legions wej-e in men's eyes the very embodiment of every idea of martial' heroism and indomitable strength. And shall not the Church have her soldiers too, — soldiers of a nobler mould, and with other weapons than those of earth? If the kingdom of darkness have its legions by which it keeps the world in awe, and extends the limits of its sway, so too should the kingdom of God. So the Chris tian himself was a soldier, the world a battle-field, and life one long and ceaseless war against the devU, the world, and the fiesh. The baptismal vow was the soldier's oath';-' the Christian's confession or creed which he learned by heart, and which he had ever ready on his. tongue, was the soldier's watchword;^ the sign of the cross, "the sign of his Master's victory, the sign of the sufferings by which He overcarae the kingdom of dark ness, the sign on his forehead, was the soldier's badge, like the stigma which was stamped on the arm or hand when a soldier was received into the ranks ;"* their soleran days of fast and prayer, when the Christian warrior stood specially on his watch, were the soldier's stations.* The culminating point of this holy warfare, was in the steadfast confession and victorious death of the martyrs ; and the conqueror's wreath was the true ' Sacramentum militiis Ohristianse. ° Tessera militise Christianae symbolum. " Stigma mililare. * Dies stationum. CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. 183 > soldier's crown, com.pared with which any other were cnAPTEn unworthy of the name.^ _I_ At the tirae of which we write, the grand idea of the christian universal priesthood of all true Christians had already \^llf' begun to fade and becorae dim in the convictions and feel ings of the Church. The gradual revival and growing influence of the Jewish notion of a peculiar sacred or Siicerdotal caste, and the broad line of demarcation in con sequence drawn between the clergy and the laity, had in some measure overshadowed and obscured the earUer and purer truth. The name and prerogatives of God's priests which belonged to all, were appropriated too exclusively to a favoured few. Still the true primitive faith in this mat ter had not entirely expired. Grand words, still extant in thewritings of some ofthe teachers of that age, bear witness to the fact that it still possessed a real though relaxed hold of the general Christian consciousness. " All Christians," says Tertullian, " are now in the position of those who were priests under the Old Testaraent dispensation. The particular Jewish priesthood was a prophetic type of the universal Christian priesthood. Ye are priests, being caUed for that purpose by Christ. The highest priest, the Great Priest of the heavenly Father, Christ, since he hath clothed us with himself (for as many of you as are baptized have put on Christ), has ' made us kings and priests unto God and his Father.' " And again : " We are under a delusion if we believe that what is not per mitted to the priests, is permitted to the laity. Are not we laics also priests ? " And to the same effect Justin Martyr a few years before : " We are through Jesus Christ devoted as one man to God the creator of the universe. Through the name of his first begotten Son we put off our defiled garments, — that is, our sins, and being influenced by the word of his caUing, we are the ^ See Tertullian, de corona militis. To his ardent soul the crowning of any other soldier than that of Christ, seemed a desecration of so high and holy a symbol. 184 CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD true high -priestly race of God, as God himself testifies, sBooND. gg^yjjjg^ \hdX in every place among the Gentiles pure and acceptable sacrifices shall be offered to him." Aud finally: " All righteous persons," writes Irenseus, "have the dignity of priests." Ascetic It was natural in such an age that the Church's oppo- cics.™' sition to the world, whether under the aspect of resistance or of separation, should often assume a form somewhat ascetic and extreme. In the ardour of her first love, and the overwhelming sense of the abyss of ruin from which she had escaped, she was Uttle in a frame to discriminate nicely between the evil that was in the world, and the few grains of good that might remain in a system fundamen tally and radically corrupt. The whole frame and course of things, in fact, as then existing in society around her she was accustomed to regard as simply bad and god less, — a thing not to be reformed, but destroyed ; not to be sanctified aud turned to holy use, but to be renounced and left behind. As it is with a young and ardent convert from a life of sin, in any age or country. Christians naturally shrunk with horror not only from their whole past life itself, but even from those outward circumstances and relations ' connected with it, which, though in themselves innocent or good, had been to them defiled and mixed up with evU. Hence their predominant idea of Christian holiness was rather that of separation than of consecration, — forsaking all for God, than devoting all to God. They would escape the pernicious abuse of God's gifts not by tlieir use, but by their diswse. They would go out of the world, that they might not be of the world. A deep-seated principle of the old philosophy, both among the oriental and hellenic na tions, fell in with this tendency, and entered more and more as an influential element into the religious life of the age. The manifest and imraeraorial thraldom of the soul of man, in. the fetters of sense, gave birth to the notion that matter was itself the principle of evil, and the true antagonist of CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. 185 the Ufe of the spirit. Some regarded it merely as a clog chapter or incumbrance to the soul, others as an active and malig- J_ nant power for evil, but all alike as essentially and in its very nature adverse to all the higher and diviner impulses. The outer life of sense and the inner life of the spirit wero set in opposition, as two contrary and incompatible spheres. To enter the one you must escape from the other. To die to the one is to live to the other. To deny and con quer sense is to deny and conquer sin. The mortification of the body is the crucifixion of the flesh. This principle deeply coloured the whole stream of ancient thought and speculation on religious subjects; and though contrary to the whole spirit of Christianity, which in the Incarnation ofthe Eternal Word, consecrated our whole humanity, alike its inner and its outer life, to God, found an early lodgment within the Church, and lent a powerful impulse to the morbid, ascetic tendencies which the circumstances of the times had already generated. Ardent and aspiring spirits shrank from matter and all material delights as they would shrink from sin, and sought the palm of the Christian conqueror, not by subduing the world to God, but by trarapling it under foot. The true evangelical combat between nature and grace, the flesh and the spirit, was narrowed into a mere Platonic conflict between the clairas and desires of the body and the higher behests of the soul. All outward and sensuous enjoyments, social pleasures, conjugal and domestic joys, were condemned, or at least depreciated, as things which, if not themselves essentially evil, were yet incompatible with the highest style of good. He who used these things aright, and sanctified them to the service of God and man, did well ; he who renounced and forsook them for Christ's sake did better. The idea of the peculiar sanctity of celibacy as a higher and purer state than that of mai-ried life had already found entrance. The holy virgin occupied a more exalted sphere, and attained a higher style of Christianity than the holy matron. Even 186 CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MA'RTYR AGE. PERIOD those sacred ties which the Creator had ordained, a,nd sEcoKD. .^jjj^gjj Christ had bles,sed, were regarded as in some sort defiled by the flesh. Thus there were everywhere a class , of professed ascetics, a kind of spiritual athletes, who, dis daining the ordinary and common -place fight of faith, girded theraselves to the great achieveraent of what they deemed a higher sanctity. Renouncing their possessions and goods for the benefit of the poor, withdrawing from all common and promiscuous society, and renouncing all the joys of home and kindred, thej'^ devoted themselves to a retired and raortified life, dividing their time between acts of devotion, study of the Sacred Scriptures, and works of usefulness. These were the true successors of the ascetic pliilosophers of the old pagan world, whose general habits of life they followed, and whose peculiar costume^the philosopher's cloak — they assumed as their distinctive badge.^ Such a,scetic tendencies as these infected more or less the raost enlightened and best men of that age, and were often associated in their most extreme form with the most ardent and exalted piety. They were the natural reaction from the whole state of things in the s6ciety around, in ¦which it was so hard to use the world without abusing it and in which the best things were almost inextricably bound up with the vilest and the worst. Still they were none the less on that account morbid tendencies, and exercised, as time wore on, a raore and more malignant influence on the whole development of Christian doctrine and practice. From their very natui'e they tended to confuse and obscure the very idea of the Christian life ; to substitute outward forms for inward realities ; to con found true holiness ¦with an outward factitious purity; to foster a proud self-sufficiencj'^ in the pecuUar few, and an ea.sy laxity in the comraon-place and promiscuous many. What motive remained to the ordinary Christian to covet the highest gifts and emulate the highest attainments in ' See Appendix— 7?ise of Monasticism. CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. lg7 Christian holiness, when by the very circumstances of his chapter po,sition he was doomed to a lower sphere of sanctity — Jl. when he might indeed be godly, but could never in the full sense of the word be pure ? The true counterpoise to all such false asceticism was Family the Christian family, to which the gospel iraparted a new character and sanctity. Purifying the marriage bond frora tbe corruptions of polygamy, and restoring woman to her true position as the meet and equal companion of man, she may be said to have given back to the world the very idea of home, with all the holy and blessed associations bound up with the name. Yet even here we trace the influence of the same stern ascetic spirit we have just referred to. With much that is beautiful and true in regard to this subject, we still miss, in the extant litera ture of that age, those bright and joyous views of home and home life which are happily so familiar in raodern times. The following picture of a holy marriage union, frora the ardent pen of Tertullian, exhibits, after all, only the comparative happiness of a Christian over a heathen or a mixed marriage, rather than the absolute happiness of the married life itself; while over the whole canvas there Ungers a certain sombre hue of austere severity, con genial alike to the writer and the age. It is observable, too, that while much is said of the holy companionship of the wedded pair themselves, in faith, in prayer, and in works of mercy, there is no sound heard of those glad voices of children which in happier times • flll Christian homes with the melody of joy and health : — " How can we express," says he, " the happiness of a Christian mar riage ? How can we flnd words to express the happiness of that marriage which the Church effects, and the obla tion confirms, and the blessing seals, and angels report, and the Father ratifies ? What a union of two believer>* Of a fellow-Christian, hastily done, lest it should attract the notice of a heathen partner. <* Unde sufiiciamus ad enarrandam felicitatem ejus matrimonii quod ecclesia oonciliat, et confirmat oblatio, et obsignat benedictio, angeli renunciant. Pater rato habet? Nam neo in terris filii sine consensu patrum recte et jure uubunt. Quale jugum fidelium duorum, unius spei, unius disciplinae, ejusdem servitutis! Ambo fratres, aiiibo conservi, nulla spiritus carnisve discretio. Atquin vere duo in carne un9, ; ubi caro una, unus et spiritus. Simul orant, simul volutan- tur, et simul jejunia transigunt, alterutro docentes, alterutro hortantes, alterutro sustinentes. In eoclesiA Dei pariter utrique, pariter in convivio Dei, pariter in angustiis, in persecutionibus, in refrigeriis ; neuter alterum celat, neuter alterum vitat, neuter alteri gravis est ; libere aeger visitatur, indigens sustentatur; eleemosiiiEe sine tormento, sacrificia sine scrupulo, quotidiana diligentia sine im pedimento; non furtiva signatio, non trepida gratulatio, non muta benedictio; sonant inter duos psalmi et hymni, et mutuo provocant quis melius Deo suo cantet. Talia Christus videns et audiens gaudet ; his pacem suam mittit ; ubi duo, ibi et ipse; ubi et ipse, ibi et malus noa est.—Tert'ull. ad ¦uxorem, ii. 9. CHRISTIAN LIFE IN THE MARTYR AGE. 189 and wife, by the adherence of one or the other to the old chapter pagan idolatry, when the moral atmosphere all around, 2— amid which the rising race had to be reared, was such as to make it indeed a solemn thing that a child was born into the world, and when the sword of persecution per petually hung over the head of the Church, and a sudden burst of iraperial or popular vengeance might auy day turn the happiest horae into a desolation, it was not won derful if men often thought rather of the pains of married life than of its blessings, and scarcely dreamed of any true and abiding home but that above. It remained, then, as in the days of the apostles, that they that had wives should be as though they had none ; they that rejoiced as though they rejoiced not ; and that they should use the world as not abusing it, as remembering that the fashion thereof passeth away. As in their inward life, so in their outward dress and Dresi behaviour, the Christians of those days, especially those of the more earnest sort, were distinguished by a simple and modest gravity, which contrasted strongly with the luxurious display of the heathen around. To this . austere rule, indeed, some of laxer views demurred as creating a needless -singularity; but the great leaders of the Church maintained it as the true and becoming armour of the Christian soldier. " If the duties of friendship," says Tertullian, " and of kind offices to the heathen, caU you, why not appear with your own proper ¦weapons — so much the rather when you have to do ¦with strangers to the faith? Let there be a distinction between the hand maids of the devil and those of God, that you may be an example to them, and that they raay be edified by you, that God raay be glorified in your body, as the apostle says. But he is glorified by chastity, and by an attire that accords with chastity." " This it is," he again exclairas, " which makes us the light of the world — our goodness. But goodness — at all events, true and com- 190 CHRISTIAN LIFE IN TBE MARTYR AGE. PERIOD plete goodness — loves mot darkness, but rejoices to be KooHD. gggj^^ g^jjij exults even in being pointed at. It is not enough that Christian chastity .should be; it should also be seen; for so great oijght to be its fulness, that it should flow over from the mind into the manners, and rise up from the conscience into the countenance." Indeed, as the same writer remai-ks, there was little room or pre tence for the display of .showy attire by those who in those days lived a Christian life. When they "went neither to the temples nor to public shows, nor even knew of the heathen feast-days" — when almost the only errands which usually took a modest Christian female out of doors were " to visit a sick brother, to present a sacrifice, or to hear the word of God " — to have emulated the vain fashion^ of the world, would have been rather to seek than to yield to temptation. At all times, but especially in such times, the true female adorning is not that outward adorn ing of plaiting the hair, and putting on of apparel, but that of the hidden man of the heart, shining out through the transparent vesture of the life.''^ ReiiKious If we pass now from the house to the Church, we shall find a good measure of the pure scriptural simplicity still remaining. It was a transition period, indeed, between the clear sun-light of apostolic times and the rich and gorgeous splendour of