tihv<xvy of t^e theological ^^mjinaxy
PEINCETON • NEW JERSEY
PRESENTED BY
Francis l.^nr\/^v Po-k-*-
BR 165 .U55 1879
Uhlhorn, Gerhard, 1826-1901 ^
The conflict of Christianit
with heathenism
/
THE
CONFLICT OF CHRISTIANITY,
''And I saw, and behold, a white horse, and he that sat on him
had a bow, and a crown was given unto him, and he went forth
conquering and to conquer.^' — Rev. vi. 2.
THE
CONFLICT OF CHEISTIANITY
WITH HEATHENISM
BY
v
Dr. GERHARD UHLHORN
ABBOT OF LOCCUM, AND MEMBER OF THE SUPREME CONSISTORY
IN HANOVER
lElittelr Hnti STranslateli
WITH THE AUTHOR'S SANCTIOy
PROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION
BY
EGBERT C. SMYTH and C. J. H. ROPES
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
743 AND 745 Broadway
1879
Copyright, 1879,
By CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.
FRANKLIN PRKSS ."
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY RAND, AVERY, AND CO.
BOSTON.
PEEFACE.
The work of which a translation is now offered to the
public has been highly commended by leading reviews in
Germany, and has been received with much popular favor.
It has also been translated into the Danish and Swedish
languages. Its author's name is familiar to scholars through
his contributions to the first edition of Herzog's Encyclo-
paedia of Protestant Theology, as well as to the one now
issuing ; through his work on the Clementine Homilies and
Recognitions ; and through other historical and apologetic
publications, one of which has been translated into English
by the Rev. Charles E. Grinnell, and published under the
title : " The Modern Representations of the Life of Jesus.'*
At home Dr. Uhlhorn is known also as an eminent preacher,
and as one of the most prominent of the Lutheran clergy.
Several volumes of sermons have lately appeared from his
pen, and also a collection of addresses on important topics
of religious and social life.
Gerhard Uhlhorn is the son of a shoemaker, and was
born in Osnabriick, Feb. 17, 1826. From the gjTnnasium
of his native city he went to the Universit}' of Gottingen,
6 PREFACE.
where he studied theolog}^ from 1845 to 1848. He then
became a private instructor in the University, and served
successively as a ^^ Repetent," and as a '^ Privatdocent."
until 1855. During this period, besides preparing and
publishing a volume of sermons, he was engaged in a criti-
cal and thorough study of the early Christian history. In
1855 he became assistant preacher at the royal Schloss-
kirche in Hanover, and subsequently First Preacher to the
Court, and a member of the Supreme Consistory of Hanover.
In 1878 he was installed as Abbot of Loccum, a mediaeval
Cistercian Abbey which, toward the close of the sixteenth
century, accepted the principles of the Lutheran Reforma-
tion, and is now a Seminary for the education of evangehcal
preachers. Its abbot is ex officio president of the principal-
ity of Kalenberg, and at the head {der erste GeistUche) of
the Lutheran Church in Hanover.
The subject which Dr. Uhlhorn has treated in the follow-
ing work is fitted to call into exercise his best powers, — his
quick and broad S3'mpathies with humanity, especially the
poor and wretched, his ample and thorough learning, and
his ability to clothe his thoughts in forms fitted to interest
wide circles of readers. Dr. Channing, in his Essay on
Fenelon, has recognized the grandeur and importance of this
theme, and its need of juster treatment. It is of permanent
and universal interest. We are transported to an ancient
battle-field, but the cause is our own. Christianity, from the
beginning, had to encounter active, skilful foes. Judaism
and Heathenism were no abstractions, but armed warriors.
The struggle was a vital one, — not a question of mere
organization, or subsidiary doctrine, but of the origin,
PEEFACE. T
essence, authority, and power of the Gospel. The contest
was also protracted. As it went on, all the forces which
could be arrayed against the new religion had time to reach
the field of conflict, and mingle in the strife. The victori-
ous Roman, the acute and versatile Greek, the Oriental theo-
sophist, the Jewish legalist, the power of the Empire, the
learning of Alexandria, vested interests, wit, ridicule, sar-
casm, reverence for the past, the pride of human reason,
the cunning of covetousness, the accumulated resources of
human wisdom and human depravit}', were all marshalled
and taxed. A conflict so real, so strenuous, so continuous
and vital, deserves the careful attention of every student
of history and lover of truth. And it has special claims
in an age like our own, when the question of the super-
natural origin and power of Christianity is so widely dis-
cussed.^
In its treatment of this subject Dr. Uhlhorn's book may
be specially conmaended in the following particulars : (i.)
its abundant use of the new materials which have been
accumulated by the special investigations of Marquardt,
Mommseu, Friedlander, Boissier, De Rossi, Keim, Overbeck,
and others ; (ii.) the vividness with which the principles and
1 The German edition of this volume bears the secondary title :
Bilder aus der Vergangenheit als Spiegelbilder filr die Gegenwart, Pictures
from the Past as Illustrations for the Present. This resemblance of the
ancient conflict to the modern has also been noticed, on its Apologetic
side, by Dr, Shedd, Histoi^j of Christian Doctrine, vol. i., p. 103; and by
Mr. Bolton in the Introduction to his useful collection and classification
of the arguments of " the Apologists down to Augustine." Mr. Bolton
also sketches the peculiar characteristics of the earlier contest, — to
some of which, in broader relations, I have alluded.
8 PREFACE.
progress of the conflict are conceived, and the skill with which
they are illustrated by apt citations from the writings of those
engaged in it, and b}^ the introduction of striking personal
experiences and incidents of the period; (iii.) the success
with which the author preserves the unit}^ of his theme, and
the consequent distinctness of impression which is produced.
If these merits are justly attributable to the original work,
and are not seriousty impaired in its translation, it invites
the attention of a much larger number of readers than those
who may be supposed to have a professional interest in its
subject. I cannot but hope that it will prove adapted to
the wants of such persons ; that intelhgent laymen will deem
it not without freshness and value, that pastors may find it
helpful in their provision of reading for some who may con-
sult them, and that it may fill a useful place in town and
village and parish libraries. I shall be especially gratified if
any young persons who have not as yet been attracted to
the stud}^ of Church History may be allured by this volume
to these rich fields of thought and knowledge. Desiring also
that it may promote the study of this History in its som-ces,
special pains has been taken to make the references to au-
thorities exact and copious.
The latter half of the translation (from page 244) , with
the corresponding notes, has been prepared and edited by
the Rev. C. J. H. Ropes of Ellsworth, Me. The transla-
tors have endeavored so far to assimilate their work that the
unity of the original may not seem to have been greatly
impaired in its English form.
E. C. S.
Andover Theological Semikary,
October, 1879.
CONTENTS.
BOOK FIRST.
STfje poijjers in €antlitt
CHAPTER I.
TffB UELIGIOUS CONDITION OF THE HEATHEN WORLD.
PAGE
1. The Commingling of Nations in the Roman Empire .... 13
2. Decline of Religion 29
8. Foreign Rites, and the Longing for Redemption 62
4. Judaism 81
CHAPTER n.
THE MORAL CONDITION OF THE HEATHEN WORLD.
1. Faith and Morals 92
2. Marriage and Family Life 97
3. Labor and Luxury 104
4. Public Games 119
5. Slavery 131
6. The Need of Moral Renewal 141
CHAPTER m.
THE CHRISTIANS.
1. The Preaching of the Gospel 150
2. Worship and Church-Life 160
3. Conduct of the Christians 165
4. Benevolence of the Christians 191
5. Martyrdom 205
BOOK SECOND.
STJe (JDonfltct.
CHAPTER I.
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER.
1. Preliminary Survey 217
2. The Persecution under Nero 241
10 CONTENTS.
CHAPTER n.
THE CHRISTIANS BEFORE THE TRIBUNALS.
PAGE
1. Trajan's Legislation against the Christians 251
2. The Increasing Influence of Christianity 264
3. The Persecution under Marcus Aurelius 282
4. The First Signs of Victory 297
CHAPTER III.
TEE RE-ACTION.
1. The Internal Re-action in Heathenism 308
2. The Internal Re-action in Christianity 336
CHAPTER IV.
THE GENERAL PERSECUTIONS.
1. From Marcus Aurelius to Decius 355
2. From Decius to Gallienus 365
BOOK THIRD.
CHAPTER I.
TEE DECISIVE STRUGGLE.
1. The Work of the Church among the Heathen 385
2. The Restoration of the Empire 393
3. The Persecution under Diocletian 407
CHAPTER II.
TEE VICTORY. 420
CHAPTER III.
TEE LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. .... 445
Notes 481
Index 501
BOOK FIRST.
THE POWERS IN CONFLICT.
Greater is He that is in j/oii, fJutn he that is in the world." — 1 John iv. 4.
THE CONFLICT OF
CHRISTIANITY WITH HEATHENISM.
CHAPTER I.
THE RELIGIOUS CONDITION OF THE HEATHEN WORLD.
"But, when the fulness of the time was come, God sent forth His Son,
made ofaiooman." — Gai-. iv. 4.
1. THE COMMINGLING OF NATIONS IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE.
Melito of Sardis, one of the earliest Apologists, calls
attention to the fact that Christianity was born at the
same time with the Roman Empire.^ Indeed the simple
statement, in the story of our Lord's birth, of the de-
cree of taxation issued by the first Roman Emperor,
affords one of the plainest indications that the fulness of
the time had come. The name of the Emperor Augus-
tus marks the meridian of the ancient world ; for the
ancient world culminated in Rome, and Roman history
in the rise of the Empire. And just at this culmina-
tion of the old world, which was also the beginning of
its decline, He appears whose coming was the |)oint of
transition from the ancient era to the new, the ! turning-
point of the ages. As in Nature new shoots do not
first start when the plant they are appointed to succeed
is wholly dead, but while it is still outwardly: vigorous
put forth and grow, feeding upon the life whose disso-
lution they hasten, so was it here. The Christian
13
14 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book i.
world) did not first appear when the old world was
already decayed. To human eyes at least, although
destroying forces were secretly at work, it still stood in
full splendor and bloom when the germ of the new life
was implanted, and henceforth the progressive decline
of the old life, and the aspiring growth of the new,
went on in constant and reciprocal interaction.
The task of Rome was to unite, — to unite, we may
say as confidently, for Christ. Born at the same time,
the Roman Empire and the Christian Church were also
providentially appointed for each other. The kingdom
of heaven is like a grain of seed. If the seed is to be
sown the field must be prepared. The Roman Empire
was the prepared field. The kingdom of heaven is like
leaven. If the leaven is to be mixed with the meal, the
meal must be shaken together. The Roman Empire was
the shaken heap of meal appointed first of all to take
up the leaven. All the peoples of the old world which
hitherto had lived and labored apart, all their gains and
achievements, their riches and treasures, their works of
art and scientific results, their ancient traditions and
legends, their gods and rites of worship, all existing
elements of culture and forces of civilization, were now
comprised in one Empire. Other empires have ex-\
ceeded this in territory and in population, but there has j
never been a second empire in the whole course of his- j
tory which so united in itself all the cultivated nations j
of its time.
The establishment of this kingdom was the historical
task of the Romans. Rome's geographical position
gave her the expectation of becoming the head of such
an Empire. Around the Mediterranean, the central sea
of the ancient world, dwelt the cultivated nations.
CHAP. I.] ROME'S TASK: CONQUEST OF THE WORLD. 16
Far into the midst of this sea projects the long penin-
sula of Italy, and in the middle of this peninsula stood
Rome, the centre of the centre. From this point the
world was conquered and controlled. For this were
the Romans endowed. They were not a people of j
peace but of war, not a nation of thinkers but off
deeds, not rich in arts but great in bravery and politi-|
cal sagacity, equipped with a rare power of assimilation, |
a marvellous gift for organization, and a strong instinct i *
for legislation and government. They produced no i
philosophical systems, but they carried law to its
highest perfection ; they built no Parthenon, but they
constructed roads and bridges to bind countries to-
gether, and walls and castles to protect them. They
were "the robbers of the globe," but in the divine
counsel their robberies, unknown to them, had a higher
purpose of union, and their Empire, brought together
by reckless violence, was constrained by a superior will
to serve the kingdom which Eternal Love has under-
taken to establish in the world.
When the Republic ended, the conquest of the world f|
was at least substantially accomplished. Then it re- (J
ceived, in the Emperor, one ruler. From this point
began the fusion of the heterogeneous mass of countries
and peoples which at first were only externally united.
The first Emperor, Augustus, erected in the Forum at
Rome a golden milestone. It stood as a symbol that
there was the centre of the world. A net-work of ar-
tificial highways, even then nearly completed, extend-
ed from this point through the entire Empire. From
Cadiz in Spain, through France, through Italy, away
up to the Cataracts of the Nile, from the lands of the
Danube even to the pillars of Hercules, the traveller
16 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book i.
could journey over well-built roads, and find every-
where, at certain distances, mutationes for change of
horses, and mansiones for lodging at night. These
roads were so many cords binding the conquered world
to the centre, Rome, so many channels for the impulses
which streamed forth from it. On these roads marched
the legions to keep under control a subjugated world,
and to protect the boundaries ; on these roads Pro-
consuls and Prsetors went into the provinces to ad-
minister law and justice, and swift couriers -bore the
edicts of the Emperor to the extreme circumference of
the broad Empire; over these highways commerce
moved, and Romans of distinction journeyed to gain
knowledge of the world; over these highways, too,
went the messengers of the Gospel, bearing from city
to city the joyful tidings of a manifested Redeemer.
A vast interchange now began through the entire
Empire. Hitherto War alone had brought men to-
gether ; now for the first time this was accomplished by
Peace. For after the fearful assaults and revolutions
of the Civil Wars the Empire was really peace : " Now
land and sea are safe, and cities flourish in concord and
peace," exults an inscription in honor of Augustus.
"All which has hitherto been concealed comes now
into general use," says Pliny. And Philo : " The nox-
ious elements are driven to the remotest distances, the
salutary are gathered together from the ends of the
earth into the Empire of the world." ^ To be sure, as
compared with the commercial intercourse of to-day,
that of the Roman world was but small. The imports,
for example, from Asia into England from 1861 to
1869 amounted annually, on an average, to nearly
seventy millions of dollars, while the entire Roman Em-
CHAP. I.] INTERCOURSE IN THE EMPIRE. 17
pire, according to an estimate found in Pliny, made use
of only about five and a quarter million dollars' worth
of merchandise from the East. Yet, in comparison
with earlier times, traffic very largely increased during
the age of the Emperors, and was of more importance
in bringing the nations nearer together because mer-
cantile intercourse was much more personal then than
now. Like the great commercial cities of the East, —
Alexandria, Antioch, Ephesus, Smyrna, Corinth, —
Rome was a centre of traffic, as no city has been before
or since. Ever}^ thing rushed to Rome. Whoever had
any thing in art or science whose claims he wished to
have recognized, whoever hoped to gain any thing by
being near persons in power, whoever sought his rights
in the highest tribunal of appeal, whoever expected
through honest business, or even through adventure
and fraud, to become rich, or whoever had obtained
wealth and wished to see with his own eyes the wonders
of the capital, and to share in the pleasures and luxu-
ries which it afforded, went to Rome. On the streets
of this matchless imperial city met the finely cultured
Greek who sought here the sources for some history,
and the half educated provincial who would gladly
pass for a genuine Roman ; the Alexandrian merchant,
brought here by the corn trade, and the half savage
African who perchance had come with an invoice of
lions for the next hunting-show ; the wily Syrian who
hoped to propagate the worship of a new god, or sold
amulets and charms, and the Gaul who, proud of the
Roman citizenship recently presented to him, offered
his homage to the eternal city ; the Jew who for the
sake of some pecuniary gain, or even to win proselytes,
shunned not the long journey, and the Illyrian and
Thracian who followed the Roman eagles.
18 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book r.
The current toward Rome had a corresponding one
outward into the provinces which, no less than the
other, promoted the fusion of the nations. The admin-
istrative officers who went forth to govern the con-
quered lands in accordance with Roman laws, the
knights who were drawn to the provinces by their
financial operations, the armies and the colonies which
Rome sent forth, all promoted that great process of
assimilation which was now accomplishing with astonish-
ing rapidity. In its numerous colonies Rome extended
itself into the provinces. They were a part of Rome
in the midst of Spain, Gaul, or Greece. The colonists
carried with them their right of citizenship and their
Roman law. Often foreigners were received into the
colony, and even when they formed within it a separate
community they still came under the constant influence
of the Roman spirit. The stations of the legions on the
Rhine and in Syria, in Britain and on the Danube, were
so many points of support for this Romanizing process.
And since the legions were obliged to recruit them-
selves increasingly from the provinces, they were con-
sequently all the more a school of civilization, especially
as it was a principle never to station auxiliary troops
in their native cantons. Separated from the soil of
their birth by long years of military service, the stran-
gers became Romans, and regarded Roman citizenship
as their highest reward. How rapidly this transforma-
tion was accomplished in the provinces can be seen in
the case of Britain. This country was re-occupied in the
year 43. Tacitus gives us a description of it in the year
61. How changed is every thing in these eighteen years !
A net-work of camps and castles stretches over the
conquered Southern part, individual chieftains have
CHAP. I.] PROGRESSIVE ASSIMILATION. 19
wholly adopted Roman manners, and govern as pre-
fects; the bloody Druid worship is exterminated,
Roman customs are diffused ; the colony of Camulodu-
num (Colchester) has grown to an important city, in
the midst of which rises a temple of Bivus Claudius.
We find circuses, theatres, marble goddesses of victory.
Londinium is an influential commercial city, where the
fabrications of Roman industry and the products of
Gaul find a market, and the people are already accus-
tomed to Italian pleasures.
This assimilation to Rome would naturally advance •
more rapidly and powerfully in countries hitherto pos- 1
sessed of little or no culture. Spain, Gaul, North I
Africa, soon became wholly Romanized. It was other- ^
wise in the East. Rome met in Greece a higher culture
than its own. Externally the conqueror, it became
inwardly more and more subjugated by the Greek mind J
What France once was to Europe, Greece was at that
time to the world. As philosophers and rhetoricians,
as school-masters and physicians, as artists and artisans,
even as men-servants and maid-servants, numerous
Greeks came to Italy and Rome and diffused there the
Greek language and philosophy, Greek morality and
immorality. Conversely, it soon became a mark of
hon ton to visit the seats of ancient Greek culture. As
in the last century people went to Paris to receive the
finest polish, so throngs of youths went to Athens, or
even to Rhodes and Marseilles, to become acquainted
with Hellenic science and art, often enough too with
Hellenic excesses. Already gaining ground toward the
end of the Republic, Hellenism made more and more
rapid progress in the time of the Emperors, especially
under Nero.
20 COMMINGLING OP NATIONS. [book i.
Thus Roman civilization, while it conquered the
world, became itself more and more imbued with that
of Greece. From this confluence of two streams issued
a third, a new one, neither old Roman nor ancient
Greek, but Grseco-Roman ; and it was this Grseco-
Roman culture which, adjusting the old distinctions,
\ filled the great Empire. Latin, indeed, was the popu-
/ lar language only in the Western provinces, almost sup-
/ planting there the old native tongues ; yet it was under-
stood, as the speech of the dominant race, even in
\ Palestine and on the Nile. More nearly even than
I Latin was Greek raised to the rank of a universal lan-
/ guage. Whoever spoke it could count upon being able
/ to make himself understood everywhere in the East
/ and in the West. In the Common Law Rome 'gave the
world another bond of union, whose influence became
more powerful in proportion as it was developed. On
this flrm basis the world became more and more accus-
tomed to the same forms of social life.
The East, true to the stable character it still pre-
serves, adhered most firmly to its peculiarities. And
though the Hellenized cities, Antioch, Nicomedia, above
all Alexandria, were influential supporters of the
Grseco-Roman culture, still the transformation in these
regions was far less complete than in the West. The
Oriental indeed should be recognized as a third element
with the Roman and the Grecian, especially in the
sphere of religion, it being faintly discernible from the
beginning of the time of the Emperors, and more and
more clearly so in the second and third centuries.
While the Roman spirit ruled in the domain of govern-
ment and law, and the Greek in that of art and science,
the Oriental impressed itself upon religious life. Thus
CHAP. I.] RISE OF COSMOPOLITANISM. 21
this part of the mighty Empire had a share in its inter-
nal growth, and one all the more important since the
real and highest end for which this Empire existed
must be sought for in religious development.
It is hardly necessary to suggest what aids to religious
progress, particularly to the extension of Christianity,
these facts imply. A religious impulse given at one
point now, was no longer in danger as it might have
been centuries earlier, of perishing in the little circle
of an isolated people. If it only had sufficient power
it easily propagated itself through the entire Empire.
It no longer found anywhere a limit. The abundant
means of communication, the wide-spread understanding
of the two leading languages, Latin and Greek, the
community of interests, the common law, the greatly
increased similarity of social customs and forms, all
came to its aid. We need only glance at the life and
labors of Paul to find this everywhere confirmed. A
missionary activity like his was possible only in an
Empire like the Roman.
But none of these particulars, however important
each may be, is of chief moment. Of infinitely more
consequence is it that there was now developing in the
Roman Empire a Universalism hitherto entirely un-
known, the first step to the Universalism of Chris-
tianity. At no point does the providential significance
of the Roman Empire stand forth more strikingly than
here.
The human race develops as nations in the Christian
era, as well as in the pre-Christian. " God hath de-
termined the times before appointed and the bounds
of their habitation." With this word St. Paul, in his
discourse at Athens, gives us a glimpse into the divine
22 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. ' [book i.
government and guidance of the nations of which they
themselves are unconscious. But in the times before
Christ, the significance of nationality was entirely unlike
what it has been since. In the ancient era the nations
were strictly separated from each other. Each nation
lived for itself and labored for itself. There was no com-
mon work of civilization in which the nations recipro-
cally supplemented each other, and together made prog-
ress in a common development ; but rather, one nation
transmitted its work to another to be continued by it,
the Oriental nations to the Greeks, and they to the
Romans. In the modern era, on the contrary, nations
are interdependent. No one is the sole possessor of
culture, so that all the rest must repair to it. Each
shares in the work of civilization, and all mutually give
and receive. Though distinct as States, and though
each preserves its own individuality, their culture is a
common one. Nations which have a Christian civiliza-
tion are united as members of a great whole. And
their inner bond of union, however little inclination
there may be in many quarters to-day to recognize this,
is in reality their common Christianity. Rome is the
connecting link between these two forms of national
life, the transition from one to the other. In the ancient
era we have only distinct nationalities, no unity; in
the modern era distinct nationalities, yet above them a
unity. In Rome, there were no longer distinct nation-
alities, for all were outwardly comprised in one State ;
yet a real inward unity, a common bond was still want-
ing, — it had yet to be developed.
In the Roman Empire the old nationalities declined
more and more ; not merely those of conquered nations,
but that of Ronxe as well. The old Roman families
CHAP. I.] DECLINE OF THE OLD NATIONALITIES. 23
died out ; provincials took their places ; and soon the
Emperors, too, were from the provinces. Romans and
non-Romans came to be regarded as equals, and the
Roman right of citizenship was shared by provin-
cials in an ever- widening circle. As ancient Roman
art and morality had degenerated, so also had the old
Greek character. The Greek spirit in its purity with-
drew; Hellenism took its place. The Roman colony
Corinth surpassed Athens, the Hellenized cities of
Asia Minor were more important centres than the
ancient seats of culture in Greece itself. More fully
still did the subject nations of the West give up their
nationality.
Since all development took a purely national course,
a certain narrowness adhered to ancient life. Modera-
tion was the chief virtue of Antiquity. In it was
rooted the artistic sense of the old Greek, as well as
the strict virtue of the old Roman. This narrowness
now disappeared. Through the magnificent intercourse
and interchange of the universal Empire, national con-
sciousness expanded into one which was world-wide.
In all departments of life there was manifested a free-
dom from restraints which resulted in a disappear-
ance of the old established forms, in a widening of view
and of the entire circle of thought. The sharply dis-
criminated philosophical systems lost their distinctive
peculiarities. A practical philosophy was developed,
which, far inferior in acuteness and logical consistency
to the earlier, obtained for this very reason far wider
acceptance. The styles of art commingled. Grecian
finish and Oriental massiveness met in the colossal
edifices of the Empire. But when purity of art was
thus lost, and the Age could no longer rival the crea-
24 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book i.
tioiis of classic time, art gained instead a diffusion never
before attained. Never before nor since, has the world
been so opulent in treasures of art. To say nothing of
Rome, even provincial cities so abounded in lofty edi-
fices, statues, and other works of sculpture, as greatly
to exceed those of our capitals which are richest in
such treasures. Never again has art so penetrated
men's homes, adorning even all the utensils of daily
life, and its entire environment. In the countries on
the Danube, and on the Rhine, manufactories of earthen
ware copied Grecian patterns ; and the streets and pub-
lic places of Roman colonial cities, in the midst of
barbarous nations, were adorned with imitations of
works of Grecian art whose originals, perchance, graced
some place or palace in Rome.
Culture, in a word, now tended to become universal.
Numerous schools afforded to multitudes opportunities
for knowledge hitherto available to only a few. The
cheapness of books, and easily accessible public libra-
ries, subserved the same end. Martial speaks of books
which cost four or six sesterces, a trifle more than
twenty or thirty cents.^ The equivalent of a page of
print cost from about two to two and a half cents.
The diffusion of books was also great. Pliny expresses
pleasure that his works are sold by booksellers in
Lyons. Already in Rome Caesar had projected the plan
of establishing a library. Asinius Pollio carried it into
effect, founding in the temple of Liberty, the first public
library of Rome. Augustus established two others, to
which a great number were afterwards added. Learn-
ing became somewhat encyclopiedic ; an educated man
was expected to be well-informed upon all subjects.
Every branch of knowledge was cultivated, Grammar,
CHAP. 1.] EXTENSION OF CULTURE. 25
Antiquities, Agriculture, and the science of war. Char-
acteristic of the times was the special attention paid to
Universal History and Geography. The view became
broader, and whereas the ancient Greek or Roman
cared only for his own people and land, the Roman of
the age of the Emperors was interested in every thing,
in foreign nations and countries, in tlie plants and ani-
mals of distant zones. In Rome unknown animals and
other curiosities from far off lands vv^ere exhibited as
shows to great throngs. Even the Emperors provided
such sights. Successful attempts were made to acclima-
tize foreign plants and animals. The natural products
of different countries were also interchanged. South-
ern fruits were transplanted to Rome, and still farther
towards the North. In this way Gaul received the
cultivation of the olive and vine. Journeys became
the fashion. Whoever had not seen Greece, and visited
the East, whoever had not been in Athens and Alexan-
dria, hardty counted among persons of education ; and
just as we have to-day our guide-books for Italy and
Switzerland, so had the Roman tourist his guide-book
which pointed out all the various sights and designated
the temples, statues, pictures, antiquities, which were
of special interest. We see this fondness for travels,
also, in the literature of romance; whose appearance is
itself a sign of the altered spirit of the age. It de-
lighted in narrating fictitious journeys; and "the in-
credible things beyond Thule," or the like, were eagerly
read.
It has been disputed whether this whole development
should be considered a decline or an advance. Men
even of that time had a clear presentiment that Rome
then stood at the height of its prosperity, and so at
26 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book i.
the beginning of its decline. "Heaven grant that I
may prove a false prophet, but I see Rome, proud
Rome, fall a victim to its own prosperity," says Proper-
tins,^ and Tacitus saw with a ken truly prophetic that
the Germans would destroy Rome. Their freedom
seemed to him more dangerous than the power of the
Parthians.^ Yet the controversy over the question of
decline or progress is needless. Certainly that age, as
compared with the palmy days of Greece and Rome,
was one of decline. It was no longer productive as
before. Feeling and reflection were stronger than
energy of will. Nothing strictly new was produced.
But must not the blossom fall before the fruit can
ripen? Even if the commingling of nations, as of
philosophical systems and of styles of art, which was
accomplishing in the time of the Emperors, was a de-
cline, it was also, as opposed to the earlier exclusive-
ness, a salutary result of the mutual intercourse which
was taking place. This widening of view, of thought,
of interest, beyond the former narrowness, was no
longer, it is true, the genuine ancient life, and neither a
Sophocles nor a Phidias, neither a Pericles nor a Scipio,
could then have arisen; yet who will deny that this
expansion of knowledge, this general diffusion of art
was also a progress? For do not Science and Art
exist for this very purpose that as many as possible
may enjoy their fruits ? Least of all can it be denied
that this entire Universalism then developing was the
first step to the modern Christian era. Antiquit}^ went
beyond itself and reached out its hands to the new
epoch. Itself passing out from the ancient narrowness
into a world-wide breadth of thought and life, the old
world became capable of accepting the Universalism of
CHAP. I.] CHRISTIAN UNIVERSALISM. 27
Christianity. The thought of a religion not national
but for all races would have recoiled from the rocky
masses of the unbroken nationalities of an earlier age.
Now, when the old nationalities were demolished, the
thought of a kingdom of God embracing all nations
could strike root, and the idea of a universal Church, \y
w^hich would have been entirely unintelligible to an
ancient Greek or Roman, Avas to the Roman of the age
of the Emperors, though still strange, no longer incom-
prehensible now that in the Empire he had before his
eyes a universal kingdom.
All this, indeed, was nothing more than preparation.
The old world was not able to produce from itself a
Christian universalism. The result of that great pro-
cess of comminution which was wrought out in the vast
Roman Empire was only uniformity, not true unity.
True unity presupposes diversity. It is a comprehen-
sion of the manifold under a higher principle of organi-
zation. Here we encounter a limitation which was
insuperable to the old world. It lacked the thought of
Humanity, and since it knew not the whole, it could
not rightly appreciate the parts. The unity of man-
kind, and the organization of the entire race in nations,
— the great truths which Paul preached in Athens, the
centre of ancient wisdom, — were hidden from it.
Therefore the meaning of nationality was not rightly
understood. At first it was exaggerated. There was
only national life, and nothing more. Afterwards it was
undervalued. In the Roman Empire the various nation-
alities failed to obtain their just rights. They were
completely lost in the great whole. The result was,
not a living universalism but only a shadowy one, an
abstract cosmopolitanism which did not know how to
28 COMMINGLING OF NATIONS. [book i.
appreciate tlie meaning of nationality as a compact
organism.
The ultimate reason lies deeper. There was no reli-
gious unity. That which to-day holds cultivated na-
tions in unity, notwithstanding all their diversity, is
their common Christianity. Were this taken away
their development in culture would gradually diverge,
and the nations would again, as in ancient times,
confront each other as enemies, — unless, indeed, power
were given to one of them to force them all into one
empire. This, in many quarters to-day, will not be
conceded. Appeal is made to the multiplied means of
communication which now exist, and the consequent
approximation of nations. Stress is laid on their com-
mon culture, conceived of wholly apart from religion,
— as if outward union could of itself create community
of life ! as if the kernel of this entire common culture
were not their Christianity ! The thought of a hu-
manity whose members are nations, is only possible
where there is faith in one God and one Redeemer.
As long as Polytheism rules, as long also as religion
is purely national, humanity is split up into a multitude
of nationalities rigidly secluded from each other. Even
the Universalism of the Roman Empire was possible
only because, in its religious development, a monotheis-
tic tendency had already begun even within the limits
of paganism, — a tendency to be sure which could not
advance beyond a shadowy Monotheism. The abstract
pantheistic Deity which was the result of this tendency
corresponds exactly to the abstract, and pantheistically
colored, cosmopolitanism which took the place of the
earlier and vigorous consciousness of distinct nation-
ality. When, instead of a dead deity, was preached
CHAP. I.] RELIGIOUS LIFE OF ANTIQUITY. 29
the living God, Maker of heaven and earth, the Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ, then for the first time hu-
manity was able to advance from this abstract cosmo-
politanism into the true Universalism which rules the
Christian era.
This brings us to the religious condition of the Age
of the Emperors.^
II. DECLINE OF RELIGION.
After Paul had gone through Athens observing with
attentive eye the life, and especially what was to him
of deepest interest, the religious life of the renowned
city, he summed up in the opening of his discourse
the impression he had received in the phrase which
Luther translates, somewhat inaccurately, " allzu aber-
glaubig " (too superstitious), but which, no doubt,
would be more correctly rendered, "too god-fearing"
or " deity-fearing." A survey of the religious life of
the Roman Empire must produce the same impression.
What a host of gods and goddesses whom the nations
serve, how countless the temples and holy places
adorned with vast wealth and the glory of art, how
endlessly varied the rites and forms of worship ! In
fact no reproach would be more unjust than to call the
old world irreligious. On the contrary Christians, to
the heathen, must have seemed irreligious; and often
enough were they thus reproached, because they had
no reliofious ceremonies like those to which the heathen
were accustomed daily, and hourly, and at every step
of life. The whole world was full of gods. Their
temples rose in all places, — large and splendid edifices
and little chapels, in cities and villages, in field and
forest, on the verge of the wilderness and on the sum-
30 DECLINE OF BELIGION. [book t.
mit of the Great St. Bernard pass, where a temple of
Jupiter 7 invited the traveller who had come thus far
to offer thanksgivings and vows for a safe return home.
'' Our country is so peopled with gods," Petronius
makes a woman from Campania say, " that it is easier
to find a god there than a man." ^ Or there were at
least sacred trees, stones, rocks which were decked by
heathen piety with garlands and ribbons, and which no
one passed by without some sign of reverence. The
entire life was permeated by religion.
The State was founded upon religion. It was very
well understood that there must be something which
binds the conscience and disposes men freely to obey
the laws. This was faith in the gods, in Providence,
in retributive justice. " Sooner," says Plutarch,^ " may
a city exist without houses and ground, than a State
without faith in the gods. This is the bond of union,
the support of all legislation." Polybius praises the
Romans especially for their piety. " Among them,"
he says, "the administration of public funds is more
secure by means of the oath than elsewhere through
the most extensive system of checks." ^'^ At every im-
portant public transaction the gods were consulted,
sacrifices offered, and religious rites observed ; every
assembly of the people was opened with prayer. Au-
gustus made an express decree that every senator,
before he took his place, should go to the altar of the
deity in whose temple the assembly was held, and
offer a libation, and strew incense.^^ Down even to
the last days of the Republic it was the lookhig up to
the ancestral deities which inspired the army. When,
before a battle, Pompey spoke to his soldiers of the art
of war they remained unmoved, but when Cato re-
CHAP. 1.] LOCAL EITES. DOMESTIC DEITIES. 31
minded them of the dii patrii (though himself without
faith in them), he inflamed the whole army, and the
battle was a victory. And as the entire State, so also
every community, every city, every circle of cities, had
its special cult, well-founded institutions, rich and dis-
tinguished colleges for priests, and special feast-days
and sacrifices. Every province, every city, every vil-
lage, honored with local rites its protecting divinity,
and everywhere the various religious observances were
most intimately connected with the civil constitution
of the community and sustained by local patriotism.
In the same way all domestic and family life had a
religious tone. Each period of life, every important
event, was celebrated with religious services. Though
the names of the numerous deities who are mentioned as
presiding over domestic life designate rather functions
of the deity than divine beings conceived of as hav-
ing independent existence, yet these very names afford
proof of what has just been stated. There was the
goddess Lucina who watched over the birth of a child ;
Candelifera in whose honor at such a time candles were
lighted; Rumina who attended to its nursing; Nun-
diua who was invoked on the ninth day when the name
was given ; Potina and Educa who accustomed it to food
and drink. The day when the child first stepped upon
the ground was consecrated to Statina ; Abeona taught
it to walk : Farinus to lisp ; Locutinus to talk ; Cunina
averted from it the evil enchantments lying in the
cradle. There was a god of the door (Forculus), a god
of the threshold (Limentinus), a goddess of the hinges
(Cardea). There was a god for the blind (Cteculus),
a goddess for the childless (Orbana).^^ "Even the
brothels," exclaims TertuUian, "and cook-shops and
32 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
prisons have their gods." " Every household festival
was at the same time a divine service ; each class had
its gods whom it invoked, and from whom it expected
help and protection in its work. From the niche of a
rafter, Epona, the goddess of horses, looked down npon
the stable ; on the ship stood the image of Neptune ; the
merchants prayed to Mercury for successful bargains.
All tillage of the soil began with prayer. Before har-
vest a pig was sacrificed to Ceres, and the labor of fell-
ing a forest was not commenced until pardon had been
supplicated from the unknown gods who might inhabit
it.i^
This whole rich religious life of the ancient world
makes at once an impression of the greatest variety.
What diversity wherever we observe it, whether on the
shores of the Nile or the Orontes, in the cities of Greece
or at the Roman Capitol. How entirely different were
the gods invoked by the Egyptian and Syrian, the
Greek and the Roman.
The Orient degraded the deity to the level of Nature.
I A materialistic tendency pervaded the religions of
Egypt and Anterior Asia. Therefore they found so
many adherents in the materialistic age of the Emperors.
Sexual life, procreation, and death, were attributed to
deity, and consequently the service of these monstrous
beings was on the one hand gioom}^ and stern, dark and
cruel, as they themselves, and on the other full of in-
toxicating pleasure. Moloch delighted in the agonized
cries of the children burned in his honor, while in
Melytta's temple prostitutes enticed to lewdness, and
virgins sacrificed their chastity to the goddess. The
Osiris myth in Egypt, the Adonis myth in Syria reflect
the thoughts of death and resurrection which governed
CHAP. I.] THE ORIENTAL AND GREEK RELIGIONS. 33
these religions. Adonis was killed in the hunt by a
boar. The quickly withering little gardens planted at
his festival were symbolic of his fate. By the side of
the bier on which lay the image of Adonis with the
open, bleeding wound, a cultus of mourning-rites was
celebrated with expressions of the most frantic grief.
Women wailed : Alas, Lord ! his glory is gone ! They
tore their hair, and lacerated their breasts. Seven days
the mourning lasted : then arose the cry, Adonis lives 1
Adonis has ascended ! and festivals of wildest joy suc-
ceeded the mourning.
The Greeks took the opposite course. They ideaU
ized Nature. An idealistic tendency ruled their cultus,
as a materialistic tendency ruled the cultus of the
Orient. The holy God was hidden from them also.
Instead of holiness, beaut}^ took the supreme place.
Unlike the Orientals, the Greek revered his gods, not
as monstrous beings, but as human types of perfect
beauty. Their worship was bright and cheerful. It
lacked the earnestness pervading Oriental worship,
which, with all its distortions, was more profound, and
contained unconscious presages of the Deity who has
indeed in birth and death descended to redeem us, but
it was free from the gross materialism, the cruelty and
licentiousness, which offend us in the temples of Asia.
Upon the Greek dawned the presentiment of a moral
order of the world. Is Baal, after all, only the sun who
creates life, and then again parches and destroys what
he himself has created, Zeus is also the guardian of
justice. Does Aschera represent only the sensuous
impulse of nature, Here is the protectress of marriage
and domestic life. All here is purer, for in respect to
chastity the Japhetic nations were in advance of the
34 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
early corrupted descendants of Ham. This, theii* fair-
est inheritance, the Greeks very early squandered ; and,
as the result, exhibited a wanton frivolity which was
the exact opposite of Oriental earnestness. To his
humanized gods the Greek in his rich mythology im-
puted human failings and vices, and Olympus, with its
carousals and conflicts, its craft and violence, its amor-
ous intrigues and ambitious striving, is but a picture of
Greek national life itself. While the Oriental was sub-
ject to his gods, the Greek knew himself to be lord of
his. He had himself made them ; their images were
the workmanship of his artists, their legends the crea-
tions of his poets. Greece was also the land from which
proceeded unbelief. As the Greeks, and the Romans
whom they infected, lost their faith in the Olympian
gods, the monstrous Oriental deities became again more
powerful. They were still believed in ; and therefore
they gained a marvellous power of attraction for those
who no longer had faith in Zeus and Here, in Jupiter
and Juno.
Still differently was the religious life of Rome formed
and developed. In Rome the State was every thing,
therefore religion was interwoven with public life to
i a degree never elsewhere realized. " Our ancestors,"
' says Cicero,^^ very significantly, " were never wiser,
never more inspired by the gods, than when they de-
j termined that the same persons should preside over the
! rites and ceremonies of religion and the government of
* the State." The priest, who had so important an in-
fluence in the East, was completely overshadowed in
Rome by the statesman. The Consul offered sacrifices,
and though he was surrounded by priests, they were
mere masters of ceremonies who showed what was
CHAP, l] ROMAN STATE RELIGION. 35
to be done and what words were to be iised."^^ In
Rome tlie State, Rome itself, was honored as the su-
preme deity. In the times of the Republic the State
was represented by the Capitoline Jupiter. The con-
querors marched to his temple, and brought to him their
thank-offerings. When, however. Monarchy, C£esarism,
had supplanted the Republic, the Emperors became
representatives of the State, and thus, to a certain ex-
tent, took the place of the Capitoline god. With per-
fect logical consistency the Emperors themselves became
gods, and the official worship of these Emperor-gods
became the proper State religion.
The Roman religion, like the Roman character, was
somewhat prosaic and abstract. It lacked imagination.
The Roman gods, unlike the Greek, had no rich legend-
ary endowment. Every thing was practical, and con-
trolled by a strong juridical bias. A Roman's reli-
gious duties were prescribed for him with the greatest
exactness, and to the last detail. What god he was to
invoke, in what way, with what words, all this was defi-
nitely settled by ancient tradition. In these particulars
he was excessively punctilious, whereas he was entirely
unconcerned as to the state of his soul while perform-
ing these ceremonies. He was deemed religious who
best knew the ritual, and most exactly observed it.
Such a man expected the divine blessing as his right.
" Whom the gods like, they favor." And because his
religion was thus purely external ( Ceremonice Bomance
was the expressive name of the Roman religion), de-
void of imagination and appeals to feeling, the genuine
Roman had so profound a dread of all excess in religious
matters. Superstitio^ immoderate piety, was hated by
him as much as impietas, impiety. He kept his accounts
36 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book t.
with the gods in order, would not remain in debt to
them; but would only pay what he owed. It is im-
portant to realize this character of the Roman religion,
for the Romans were the ruling nation, and from this
point of view can be judged how unintelligible, how
rejectable must have appeared to a genuine Roman
that Christianity which in his eyes was only a repre-
hensible superstitio.
But however manifold, however variegated and rich
a development Heathenism attained in the ancient
world, it was still everywhere fundamentally the same.
" They worshipped and served the creature more than
the Creator," — this was always its essential character
in all its forms. And because of this homogeneity
these dissimilar forms could interchange, intermingle,
and enter into new combinations. While the Mono-
theist of necessity regarded all gods, save the one only
God, as idols to be utterly rejected, the Polytheist
readily acknowledged gods everywhere, even though
they were not his own. Indeed he was disposed to find
his own in foreign gods, and to recognize them in all
places even in the strangest disguises. The Roman
easily persuaded hij.iiself that the Olympian gods were
identical v/itli his own. Zeus was the same as Jupiter,
Here as Juno ; even the grotesque deities of the Orient
were not alien to him. Everywhere he sought and
found his native gods, easily blended their forms with
those of other deities, and transferred the symbols and
names of the one to the other. Caesar ^'' found among
the Gauls Mercury, Mars, Apollo ; indeed Pliny relates
that the inhabitants of the distant island Tapobrane
(Ceylon) worshipped Hercules. ^^ A combination of
deities arose which led at last to a pantheistic divinity.
CHAP. I.] FOREIGN GODS INVITED TO ROME. 37
An abstract Monotheism hovered more or less distinctly
over Polytheism. As the commingling of nations gave
rise to an abstract Universalism, the first step to a
Christian universalism, so the blending of religions
produced an abstract Monotheism, the first step to
Christian monotheism.
Here also appears the significance of Rome as the
collecting or uniting power. Arnobius justly calls
Rome " the worshipper of all divinities." ^-^ It was a
maxim of the Roman State to tolerate all religions.
Upon the conquest of a province, or city, its gods were
invited with a solemn formula to come and take their
seat in Rome. " If there be a god or goddess who has
taken this people and city, N. u., under its protection.
Deity, whosoever thou mayest be, I pray thee, I adjure
thee, to forsake this people and city, to withdraw from
this city and its temples, and come to Rome to me and
mine, that our city, our temples and sacrifices, may be
acceptable to thee. If thou wilt do this, I vow to thy
divinity temples and games." ^^ The gods were not
taken away captive, and while the whole conquered na-
tion and territory were regarded as at the free dispo-
sal of the conqueror, Rome acknowledged their deities.
The Athenians retained their Athene, the Syrians their
Syrian goddess, the Jews their Jehovah. However
rigidly Rome centralized, in the religious domain the
cities preserved what was peculiar to them, their jjon-
tifiees and flanmies, their local rites and institutions,
which could not easily be alienated from their original
design. This was not mere political sagacity; it was
founded on the idea that the gods of other nations were
also gods who if badly treated might harm the Ro-
mans. It was therefore held to be a duty even to
38 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
honor them. Augustus declared to the Alexandrians
that he spared their city in honor of the great god
Serapis.2^ He also sent presents to the temple in
Jerusalem, and had sacrifices offered there for himself.^
However foreign it would have been to the Komans
to deprive subjugated nations of their religions, they
nevertheless took their own gods into the provinces.
The armies, the public officers, the colonies carried
with them the Capitoline Jupiter, the ceremonice Ro-
mance^ and required for them as friendly a recognition
as they themselves extended to the local deities. This
was all the more exacted because the official religion
of Rome now culminated in the divine homage paid to
the Emperor. In the adoration of the Divus Augustus,
and the other Divi^ a universal State religion was con-
stituted which had more profound significance than is
commonly supposed. In this way there was effected in
the provinces a strange medley of Roman and local
deities. The soldiers, especially, were largely instru-
mental in bringing this about. Ordinarily they were
very superstitious. If they remained a long time in a
country, they worshipped its gods and took them with
them on their return. Very often the Roman and the
local deities were associated. A cavalry officer in an
inscription between Syene and Phylse, gives thanks for
his fortunate discovery of some new marble quarries
to Jupiter Ammon Anubis and Juno Regina^ the pro-
tectress of mountains.-^ Another, " zealous for all holy
things," makes in Egypt a vow " for the welfare of his
wife and cliildren " to the great god Hermes Paytnu-
phis.^* On the other hand the provincials were inclined
to recognize and honor the Roman gods while they also
retained their own. Thus under Tiberius a corporation
CHAP. I THE MINGLING OF DEITIES. 39
of seamen in Paris erected to Jupiter Capitolinus an
altar on whose socle may be also seen the names of the
old Celtic deities Esus and Tarvus.^^ Temples have
been found which were consecrated jointly to Apollo
and the Gallic goddess Sirona, to Mercury and Ros-
merta.^^
Moreover the gods worshipped in the provinces mi-
grated to Rome. Every thing worthless and disgrace-
ful, says Tacitus,^^ flows from all quarters into Rome,
and is there honored. The gods of the whole earth
gathered together in the chief city of the world ; and
however strenuously the genuine Roman spirit, as ex-
pressed by Tacitus, at first rejected foreign rites, and
numerous as were the edicts issued for their suppres-
sion, or at least restriction, that commingling of deities
which began as early as the decline of the Republic,
and which characterized more than all else the period
of the fall of Heathenism, went on uninterruptedly to
its completion. As all nationalities dissolved and be-
came fused in one mass, so there was also a dissolution
of religions. A religious chaos unparalleled in history
took the place of the national religions in order that
out of this chaos a new world might be created.
This entire process presupposes that the pagan faith
was in its decline. Had it still retained its fresh,
youthful vigor, such agitation, such restless fluctuation,
would not have been possible. On the other hand it
should not be overlooked that this process sprang from
a strong religious need, and in a certain sense con-
tributed to the strengthening of the popular religion.
The multitudinous forms of Heathenism arrayed them-
selves as a unit against Christianity their common foe.
And since the Roman gods had borrowed somewhat
40 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
from the Oriental, they were better fitted to appease
the religious need, and consequently better able to
resist the new faith.
In general we must beware of the representation
that Christianity, at its advent, found the religious life
of the pagan world already dead, or even in complete
decay. Victory was not made so easy for it. The
usual statements as to the decay of religion in the
earlier years of the period of the Emperors, are, I am
convinced, greatly exaggerated, and need in more re-
spects than one essential qualification. This much is
true : the decline had already begun, but its completion
went on very slowly, constantly retarded by mighty
forces, and interrupted by seasons of new progress,
such as for instance was the time of the Empire when
compared with the last days of the Republic. If we
would endeavor to trace a picture of the religious con-
dition of that time we should do well first of all to
realize how difficult it is to estimate the general state
of faith in an age. This is one of the hardest of tasks
even when copious contemporary materials are at com-
mand. How much more difficult is it when we possess
only fragments of its literature, isolated and as it were
accidental remains, inscriptions, and the like. The
literature of the time bears indeed a strongly marked
sceptical and rationalistic (aufklarerischen) character,
but this is no certain test since a people can have more
faith than their literature indicates, for this always
proceeds from a particular class; while, if we take
into account inscriptions and similar memorials, we
should always bear in mind that in public documents,
in accordance with traditional custom, a faith is often
confessed which in reality no longer exists. The two
CHAP. I.] CONTINUED OBSERVANCE OF PAGAN RITES. 41
sources must be combined if we would obtain a correct
insight into the religious life of Heathenism at that
time.
It would certainly be a mistake to suppose that
Paganism was already in manifest outward decline.
On the contrary there was as yet no visible sign of de-
cay. The temples still stood in all their splendor, —
those destroyed in the civil wars having been restored
with great magnificence, — and were visited by thou-
sands. Feasts and sacrifices were celebrated with great
pomp. The altars were not without suppliants and
seekers for aid. The oracles were still consulted ; and
though they had lost their political importance, Pythia
in Delphi, and many others, still responded to the in-
quiries of persons in private life. How large was the
number of sacrifices can be inferred from the fact that
in Rome alone, on the accession of the Emperor
Caligula, 100,000 animals were slain in sacrifice in
three months. Countless inscriptions prove sufficiently
that there were yet believers who bestowed rich gifts
upon the temples and priests. Here an officer gives
100,000 sesterces (about |5,000) to build for a goddess
a new chariot to be used in processions ; there some
one gives to Father Liber a golden necklace weighing
three ounces, or another presents a silver statue to
Felicitas. When we consider how few comparatively
of such votive inscriptions have come down to us, we
can infer how great was the number of gifts, buildings,
institutions, bequests, daily bestowed for religious pur-
poses.
Heathenism had as yet by no means outlived itself.
There was much which still assured to it for centuries a
tenacious life. First, its union with the political and
V
42 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
public life of Rome. Everywhere religion was inti-
^' mately interwoven with the organization of the State ;
upon it rested outward morality, and even those
advanced thinkers who personally no longer believed
in the gods, but only in Nature, were of necessity pious
after the Roman way as respected the v/hole mass of
traditional usages, the national sanctuaries, the fire of
Vesta, the haruspices and auguries, memorial services
for the dead, or whenever they were officially present at
sacrifices, and perhaps themselves obliged to conduct
them. The Emperors in person performed solemn lus-
trations for the city. On special occasions, as under
Nero after the Pisonian conspiracy, the gods were
remembered with costly gifts. The Roman aristocracy,
also, though at heart long estranged from the estab-
lished cultus and disposed in private to smile at it, did
not oppose it. On the contrary they deemed it of con-
sequence officially to prove their Romanism by strict
adherence to the State religion. They had moreover
a personal interest in its maintenance beside that
which arose from their membership in the many higher
colleges of priests. As in Rome, so in all the cities
religious life was most closely connected with the muni-
cipal constitution. In the East there were a great
many municipal associations (the Koinon) which rested
wholly on a religious basis, and were designed to secure
the observance of common religious festivals. Natur-
ally those in authority had an interest, of which they
were well aware, to preserve what was established.
The general adherence of the people to the existing
forms of religion cannot be doubted in view of the
habitually conservative feeling in such matters of the
masses. In the cities numerous associations formed so
CHAP. I.] POPULAR BELIEF. FAMILY RELIGION. 43
many centres for the worship of this or that god. The
burial-clubs, the guUds of artisans, merchants, work-
men of various sorts, all of wliich gained increasing
importance to society during the Empire, bore at the
same time a religious character. Each had some god or
other as a patron, and was instituted, in part, for his
worship. His image and altar stood in their place of
assembly, and every meeting began with a sacrifice.
That the country-people adhered even more firmly to
the ancient religion, need scarcely be mentioned. They
still recited with simple faith the old legends, and
dreaded to meet Pan at noon in the field, or to find on
their return home a faun on the hearth. In accordance
with ancient custom they still observed the feasts of
the gods, the festival of Anna Perenna, or of Juno in
Faleria, which Ovid describes for us from personal
experience. In the darkness of an ancient wood stood
the rude altar of the goddess, her image was carried
thither in procession, sacrifices were offered, booths con-
structed of branches, and then the day was spent in
eating, drinking, merry-making, and dancing, with un-
restrained joy.^^
The old religion was also still firmly supported by
family customs and usages. These are chiefly deter-
mined by the wife and mother, and the women at the
time of which we speak were generally attached to the
old faith. Cicero, who himself often enough ridicules
the fables about the gods, deemed it perfectly natural
that his wife should be pious, and did nothing to change
her views. Plautus, in portraying the ideal wife, does
not fail to mention, — together with gravitas, womanly
dignity, respect for parents, obedience to her husband,
— reverence for the gods.-^ "She was pious without
44 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
superstition," is the highest praise which a husband
pays to his deceased wife in a memorial inscription .^^
An estimable matron was still one who faithfully ful-
filled her religious duties, did not stay away from
prayers and sacrifices, and diligently frequented the
temples.
Generally a man sooner cuts loose from his faith,
than from established customs. Even where the father
of a family belonged to the advanced thinkers the cus-
tomary religious observances were never omitted at
betrothals and marriages, at births and deaths. Lucre-
tius is perhaps correct when he speaks of those who,
so long as it went well with them, mocked at the gods,
but at the first reverse of fortune hastened to the tem-
ples for the sake of sacrificing ; "^ and to many would
have applied the picture Plutarch draws of a man who
inwardly estranged from religious ceremonies still out-
wardly joined in them. " Through fear of the multi-
tude he feigns prayers without feeling an}^ need, and
utters words which contradict his philosophy. When
he sacrifices he stands by the side of the slaying priest
as by a butcher, and after the offering departs with the
words of Menander : ' I have sacrificed to gods who do
not care for me.'"^"
Finally there were the countless local rites in which
the old faith lived on notwithstanding all enlighten-
ment. The recently discovered registers of a Roman
local worship, that of the Arvales^ afford an interesting
view of the tenacious lif^ of these cults. It continued
unaltered through all changes of the city and the State
down to the later centuries. The same litan}^ to which
the kings of Rome had listened was still chanted by the
Arval Brothers when Elagabalus, the priest of the sun
CHAP. I.] LOCAL CULTS. 45
from Syria, sat upon the throne of the Caesars. Still
stood in their temples the antique jars, made without
potters' wheels, which were used before bread was
baked, and when corn was only pounded into meal.
Rome from a village of peasants had become the
metropolis of the world, its morning and its noon were
past, its evening was already setting in, and still they
sang, at every fresh return of Spring, in Latin which
if spoken on the street no one could have understood,
the primeval song :
Help us, Lases ! help !
Mars! Mars!
Suffer not Death and Destruction
To rush in upon us :
Be satisfied, dread Mars ! ^^
The chants and prayers of the Salian priesthood had
become so unintelligible in the classical age that com-
mentaries were written upon them. Even the learned
could no longer explain them. Yet they were retained
unaltered, and Marcus Aurelius knew them by heart
in his eighth year.^* The tough, conservative, spirit of
the Romans showed itself, also, in religious things.
So was it everywhere. Not to speak of the Orient,
whose thoroughly stable character is evinced also in its
worship, how many primeval images of the gods, how
many cults observed without change from time im-
memorial, had Greece. In Sparta was still shown the
image of Artemis which Orestes, according to the
legend, had carried away from the Taurian temple, and
every year youths were found who were willing to be
scourged before this image until their blood flowed.
In Patrse, as had been the custom for centuries, the
46 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
priest still rode, in the procession at the annual festival,
upon a car drawn by stags, in order to burn animals
alive on the altar of the goddess, and in Arcadia the
priestesses still chanted before the altar the old magic
songs which Medea was said to have sung.
While, however, there were few, if any, apparent
traces of even an external decline of the old religion,
something like the dusk of evening rested everywhere
upon it. The times in which Pericles led processions
up to the Parthenon, or the generals of the Republic
brought as triumphers their thank-offerings to the Cap-
itoline Jupiter, were irrecoverably gone. Doubtless
there were even then devout souls, according to pagan
standards, who with mystic fervor frequented the tem-
ples, brought thither their offerings, and repeated their
prayers ; doubtless there were many more upon whom
the intoxicating splendor of the worship made at least
a momentary impression : but, in general, religion was
unquestionably sustained more from custom than from
faith ; and calm deliberation, cool calculation, regard
for the masses, and the consideration that it had always
been so, had more to do in securing its observance than
mystic fervor. At least there was among the higher
classes much open unbelief, which more and more found
its way down to the lower strata of society ; and even
amongst such persons doubt and superstition flourished
and grew rank, testifying just as strongly as unbelief
that the time of simple faith had gone by. More or
less clearly the feeling was awakened that the old
religion no longer sufQced. New ideas were stirring,
and while some persons gradually cut loose from all the
gods, others sought after new ones only to find quickly
enough that the new could satisfy the deepest needs of
the heart as little as the old.
CHAP. I.] UNBELIEF. 47
This unbelief was not of recent date. In Greece
pliilosophy had long since undermined faith in the old
deities, and Aristophanes had already made sport of the
Olympian gods on the stage. The fickle Greek at
evening in the Comedy laughed at the same gods to
whom the next morning in their temples he offered
sacrifice. With Greek culture and philosophy unbelief
had come to the Romans, as in the last century Illumin-
ism came to Germany from France. The first Roman \,
writers who copied the Greek appropriated also their ^
unbelief. Ennius thus expresses his sentiments: "I \
believe that there are gods in heaven, but I af&rm
that they do not concern themselves about the human
race. If they did the good would prosper, the bad
suffer. But now the reverse is true."^^ This was a
practical argument which was then employed as often
against the heathen faith as it is to-day against the
Christian. Cato and Caesar openly acknowledged their
scepticism in the Senate, and numerous testimonies in
the literature of the classic age prove unmistakably
that amongst educated persons the majority were at
heart more or less at variance with the old creed.^^
With glowing hate had Lucretius already pursued every
religious faith. Each was to him nought but a gigantic
spectre rearing itself from earth to heaven, with heavy
foot trampling the human race ignominiously to the
dust, while with menacing look it gazed down from on
high until the bold spirit of Epicurus bade it defiance.
He opened the gates of nature, pressed far beyond the
flaming walls of the universe into the infinite, and
as a conqueror brought to man the knowledge of the
ultimate grounds of all being. Thus did he vanquish
faith and exalt us by his victory to heaven. Acceptance
48 DECLTNE OF RELIGION. [book i.
of this doctrine did not necessarily imply frivolity and
irreligion. On the contrary faith itself had often led
to impious and criminal deeds. Agamemnon sacrificed
his own daughter to Diana, "To so much harm could
faith impel." To Lucretius the gods are but the off-
spring of fear, Providence a chimera, the world a result
of the conjunction, mixture, and combination of atoms,
life a product of primeval generation.^"^ Deeply as this
fanaticism of unbelief moves us we are equally if not
more affected by the calmness with which Pliny sets
forth as an assured result of science that there are no
gods ; for, he says. Nature alone is God, the mother of
all things, the holy immeasurable universe; and with
freezing unconcern he draws the comfortless conclusion
inseparable from this view of the world : " There is
nothing certain save that nothing is certain, and there
is no more wretched and yet arrogant being than man.
The best thing which has been given to man amid the
many torments of this life is, that he can take his own
life." ^^ Put now with the fanatic, and the man of
science, the courtier, the consummate worldling, Pe-
tronius, who was regarded at Nero's court as an arbiter
in questions of taste, and who for a long time possessed
the highest favor of the Emperor on account of his
skill and inventive talent in the arrangement of sports,
and we have three types of unbelief which doubtless
were often enough repeated although with less clever-
ness and brilliancy. A life without God, a life of
prosperity and of most highly refined enjoyment ; not
coarsely material but finely cultured and art loving, yet
without any deeper meaning, this it is which is mirrored
in the life and in the works of Petronius. His death
was in keeping with such a life. Implicated in the
CHAP. I.] POSITION OF TACITUS AND OTHERS. 49
Pisonian conspiracy he determined to destroy himself.
His veins were opened, and while the blood was flowing
he conversed with his friends, not upon serious themes,
upon immortality, like Psetus Thrasea, but on frivolous
subjects. He caused ludicrous poems to be read to
him, and when something especially laughable occurred
he had his veins tied up again that he might thoroughly
enjoy it.
Not all were so fanatical as Lucretius, so confident in
their unbelief as Pliny, so frivolous as Petronius. We
meet also men who strove to hold fast the old faith.
Such was Tacitus, the great historian, who lived in the
full conviction that the gods carry into effect the laws
of nature, are active in the course of affairs, and by
omens, — so many of which he himself relates, — fore-
tell the future. Dionysius of Halicarnassus,^^ who
shortly before the birth of Christ wrote a Roman his-
tory, admires in Romulus most of all that he held some-
thing to be the basis of the State of which many states-
men talk, but which few seek to secure, the good will
of the gods, which when it exists disposes all for the
best good of men. Notwithstanding many ridicule the
idea he holds fast to this, that the gods concern them-
selves about men ; and he relates with entire confidence
an instance of such care, in which, through the inter-
vention of the gods, the innocence of a falsely accused
Vestal was brought to light. Especially does Plutarch
everywhere appear, in a pagan way, believing and pious.
Yet in this very case we cannot avoid the impression
that this believing disposition, with its forced character,
its constant complaint of the unbelief of the present,
and its looking back to better times, has in it something
artificial ; while in the case of Tacitus, as his contempt
50 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
of Christianity and of all forms of religion shows, polit-
ical motives doubtless co-operated.
The majority were likely then, as at all times, to seek
a middle way. Without wholly discarding the popular
faith and openly breaking with it, they kept to them-
selves the higher knowledge peculiar to men of culture.
Personally they no longer believed in the gods, but
found it useful and conducive to conservatism to have
the people believe in them. So they were cautious
about openly acknowledging their unbelief, and hypo-
critically participated in the ceremonies, while at heart
they imagined themselves to be wholly superior to all
the old traditional rubbish. The irrational populace,
Strabo^^ thinks, is allured, like children, by the fables
of the gods. " For it is not possible to impart intelli-
gence to the crowds of women and common people, and
lead them by philosophical teaching to piety, reverence,
and conscientiousness. This must be done by super-
stition which cannot exist without fables and marvel-
lous tales. For, the thunderbolt, the trident, the drag-
ons of the gods are myths, as is also all the old theology.
Founders of states have approved such things as bug-
bears for the simple." " All that ignoble crowd of gods
which the superstition of ages has collected, we will
adore," says Seneca,^^ "in such a way as to remember
that its worship belongs rather to usage than to reality.
The wise man will unite in all these observances as
commanded by the laws, not as pleasing to the gods."
Varro ^^ formally systematized this view by distinguish-
ing three kinds of religion, the mythical for poets, the
physical (Natural Religion) for philosophers, and the
popular for the masses. In a similar way most persons
discriminated between an esoteric knowledge belonging
CHAP. I.] ATTEMPTS TO FIND A MIDDLE WAY. 51
to the cultivated, and the exoteric religion possessed by
the ignorant multitude. Sextus Empiricus was a com-
plete sceptic. His entire doctrine amounts to this, that
one can know nothing, that all is uncertain, even the
existence of the gods ; and yet he adds : " Following the
custom, we affirm that there are gods, and that they
exercise a providence and we honor them."^^ The
Epicureans did not all share the hate of Lucretius ; on
the contrary most of them were indifferent. They did
not deny the existence of the gods per se^ but only that
they cared for this world. The people might be left in
peace with their gods, but the educated man had a
right not to trouble himself about them. A real medi-
ating theology, however, appears first in the Stoic
school, at that time the most widely diffused of all. It
sought to reconcile faith and philosophy by accepting in
addition to the one supreme Deity, whom it conceived
of pantheistically, numerous subordinate gods, the gods
of the popular religions. Accordingly the Stoic could
accept these religions with their countless deities, sacri-
fices, oracles, miracles, omens, and incantations, if neces-
sary take part in them, and all the while hold fast to
his esoteric knowledge of God.
As regards the educated classes we may perhaps
come to this conclusion : faith in the gods of the old
religions had disappeared. In its place had come sheer
Atheism and Nihilism, though only, it may be among
individuals (at least only such ventured openly to ex-
press it). The majority substituted a kind of Mono-
theism. They imagined something godlike above the
gods, a divine first principle, or at least they had a
presentiment of this without clearly discerning it, and
especially without being able definitely to distinguish
52 DECLINE OP RELIGION. [book i.
it from the world. This dissolving Polytheism led
naturally to Pantheism. As the many deities of the
heathen were all Nature-gods, so must the One Deity
in whom these all met be a Nature-god. Nature itself is
God; and the conviction which Strabo utters as his own
was doubtless that of many : " The one highest being
is that which embraces us all, which we call heaven,
world, and the nature of the universe." ^* Doubtless
there was in this Monotheism a presage of the true
God, a longing and reaching forth by Heathenism after
something higher, a testimony of the soul by nature
Christian, as Tertullian says.^^ But the One was still
only " the unknown God whom ye ignorantly worship."
The heathen did not go beyond this. The Monotheism
to which they came at last remained abstract, lifeless.
The God vaguely conceived of as above the gods was no
divine being who has talked with men, and who can
be named and supplicated. Therefore this conviction,
however widely it was diffused in cultivated circles,
proved on the whole powerless. It gained no influence
over public opinion and morals. The educated who
shared it did not thereby attain to any higher worship,
but remained continually in suspense between this their
own better conviction and a hypocritical (we cannot
otherwise term it) participation in the official rites.
With this scepticism was often offensively combined a
childish superstition. Csesar, who made no conceal-
ment in the Senate of his unbelief, never stepped into
a carriage without first uttering a magical formula as a
preservative against accident.^^ Augustus, of whom it
was related that he had at a banquet openly scoffed at
the gods, dreaded misfortune through the entire day
when on rising in the morning he had put the left shoe
CHAP. I.] UNBELIEF AMONG THE PEOPLE. 53
on the right foot. He would never begin a journey on
the nundinoe^ nor undertake any thing important on the
nones.^^ Pliny had lost faith in every thing, yet he be-
lieved in talismans. No one thought of bringing the
great mass of the people to a better knowledge ; in the
pride of an esoteric wisdom this was regarded as plainly
impossible. So far therefore as this wisdom, notwith-
standing such an opinion, did affect the people, its in-
fluence was only destructive.
The exact limit of this process cannot be defined. It
is true that a series of passages might be adduced from
writers of the time which would lead us to conclude
that literally no one any longer had faith in the gods.
Indeed Juvenal contemptuously says that even the
youngest children had ceased to believe every thing
that was related of the lower world. *^ But we are too
familiar from our own experience with such forms of
speech as, Nobody believes that to-day ! not to under-
stand how little force they have as proof. Unbelief
has had the skill in all ages to set forth its own views
as alone valid, and universally diffused. All the facts
are too strongly contradictory to allow the supposition
that as early as the first century the mass of the people
had been inwardly estranged from the heathen faith.
On the other hand, however, we have unimpeachable
witnesses whose testimony leaves no doubt that un-
belief had alread}^ penetrated beyond the cultivated
circles, and begun to make its way among the masses.
The historian Livy speaking of an earlier time, says,
" That neglect of the gods which prevails in the present
age had then not yet spread," ^^ and Quinctilian, the
renowned teacher of rhetoric, whose own convictions
seem to have been very fluctuating, declares : " Even
54 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
among our country-people there are only a few who do
not either know something of Nature or seek to acquire
this knowledge." ^^ It was a bad sigh, and indicative
of a wide-spread indifference toward the old religion
that so early as the time of Augustus there could no
longer be found among free Roman families virgins
who were willing to become Vestals. It became neces-
sary to take freed persons, and Tiberius was constrained
to increase the privileges and prerogatives of the Ves-
tals in order to make attractive a service once so highly
venerated. Even among the people confidence in the
ancient deities had already much diminished and was
daily decreasing. It could not be otherwise. The ex-
ample of the higher classes is always determinative for
the lower, and the endeavor to maintain amongst the
ignorant a religion one has himself abandoned has never
yet succeeded.
On the other hand we may not underestimate what
was done by the upper classes to foster the old religion.
Augustus consciously aimed at a restoration of the
State-church. Much that had been destroyed in the
turbulent times of the civil wars, was replaced. Tem-
ples were repaired and built anew, the priesthoods filled
up, the festivals and sacrifices re-established, ancient
traditions sought out. Virgil's poems by their piety
promoted this object, and Ovid suffered severely for not
entering into the movement. Even the bad Emperors of
the Julian line held firmly to the maxim that the State-
religion should be supported by laws and their own
example. However indifferent Tiberius may have been
personally, he still cared zealously for the ofQcial wor-
ship, was well instructed in the ancient usages, and
would not tolerate any changes in them.*^ Claudius, at
CHAP. I.] ATTEMPTS AT RESTORATION. 65
his triumph, ascended on his knees the steps to the Capi-
tol.^- When one day a bird of evil omen sat on the tem-
ple of Jupiter, all the people were summoned to make a
solemn expiation, and the Emperor himself as Pontifex
Mazimus pronounced from a tribune the liturgical for-
mulas which the people repeated after him.^^ Even
Nero, whose own devotions were limited to a little idol
given him by one of the common people, rigidly adhered
to this fundamental principle of the Julian house.
When a temple on the Capitol had been damaged by
lightning he instituted elaborate ceremonies to appease
the anger of the god.^*
Accustomed as we are to regard religion as an inward
life which cannot be evoked by any imperial edicts, it
is natural for us to condemn in advance such efforts at
restoration as futile. They were not so much so as we
might readily suppose. The Roman religion did not
consist of articles of faith, but of ceremonies. Belief
cannot be decreed by authority, but ceremonies may
be restored ; and it is not to be questioned that in this
respect the policy of the Julian house — which later
Emperors, especially Vespasian,^^ continued — was not
without effect. It is well to notice that just at the time
when Christianity was born the pagan religion received
a new impulse. As compared with the last days of the
Republic Religion began with the Monarchy to acquire
new strength.
A sure sign that the pagan religion was by no means
as yet so devoid of life as is commonly supposed, is
to be found in the new forms of worship which now
appeared ; as for example, the worship of the goddess
Annona, the provider of corn. When the supplying of
Rome with corn assumed greater importance than in
56 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
earlier times, the impulse among the Romans to give to
every branch of life a special deity, led them to create
this new goddess. The worship of the Emperors is
especially significant in this connection.
The deification of the Emperors seems to us, at first,
like an effect of frenzy, and like boundless adulation.
We are therefore inclined to regard it as of little
importance, particularly as we find it hard to conceive
that any one could have seriously believed in the
divinity of the Emperor. But this is contradicted by
the fact that the first apotheosis, that of Csesar, pro-
ceeded from the people themselves, and though Augus-
tus was, so to speak, regularly deified by a decree of
the Senate, yet it Avas the conduct of the people which
first gave the decree real validity. It would be a great
misapprehension to regard the worship of the Emperors
solely as an indication of the extent to which human
folly can go, and as deserving only ridicule and scorn.
In reality it exerted the greatest influence not only upon
the religious, but also upon the social, life of that time ;
and became of the greatest importance in the conflict
of Christianity with Heathenism.
The deification of the Emperors, which seems to us
so strange, was deeply rooted in pagan modes of
thought. The Orientals had long been accustomed to
pay divine honors to princes. In Egypt, as an inscrip-
tion attests,^^ Ptolemy Epiphanes was revered as a god,
the son of a god and goddess. His image stood in
every temple, and was carried about in procession with
those of other gods. The idea that a man by illustrious
deeds can become divine was by no means foreign to
the Greeks (recall their hero worship), and if among
the Romans no example of apotheosis occurs after
CHAP. I.] WORSHIP OF THE EMPERORS. 57
Romulus, still the veneration paid to ancestors, the
cultus of the dii manes, was universal. When one so
highly honored by the people as Caesar sank beneath
the daggers of his enemies, it was not so strange that
they began immediately a cultus of the divus Julius,
erected to him an altar, and paid him divine honor;
that after the fearful storms of the civil wars the world,
which now at last had attained repose, dedicated to
Augustus even in his life-time temples and altars.
It is true the worship of the Emperors had its chief
seat in the provinces. One was too near the Emperor
at Rome. There, no doubt, it was difficult to believe in
the divinity of Claudius whom, as Juvenal sneeringly
says, his wife had sent to the skies, or in that of the
diva virgo, a daughter of Nero, who lived but a few
months and was deified by him after her death. It was
otherwise in the provinces. Their inhabitants were
thoroughly in earnest when they adored the numen of
the Imperial house, and erected temples to the goddess
Roma, and to Augustus. In so doing they honored the
power which had given peace to the world, and to
which they owed their security and their civilization.
For them the worship of these Divi was a public attesta-
tion that they deemed themselves happy in being under
the dominion of the Romans. And not without reason.
The freedmen who had become rich, and who as mer-
chants, or in other forms of business, peculiarly appre-
ciated the value of the peace of the Empire, were also
specially zealous worshippers of the divinity of the
Emperors. The soldiers, who were accustomed to look
up to their flags with the reverence for their imperial
leaders produced by strict discipline, saw in them at
the same time the gods whose hands held their entire
68 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
fate. And if the masses worshipped the new gods with
the same simple ignorance as they did the old, so the
educated also found ways of adjusting themselves to
this homage. It was the duty of a good Roman citizen,
it was an act of patriotism, and, in the case of a good
Emperor, an expression of gratitude. It was under the
able Emperors who from Trajan on ruled the State foi
nearly a century that the worship of the Emperors
became deeply rooted. It is the one, ancient and tradi-
tional way of testifying thankfulness, says Pliny.^^
Many, indeed, honored Plato in the same way, and
Virgil.
Moreover — and this should be carefully noticed —
this cult gained great political and social importance.
It gave the provincial assemblies (jaoivov, concilium')^ —
which otherwise might have been objects of suspicion
to the Emperors as dangerous to the unity of the realm,
— a new and wholly unobjectionable character. They
now became chiefly assemblies for worshipping the deity
of the Emperors. Provincials deemed it the highest
honor to be sent as delegates to such an assembly.
Splendid festivals with costly games drew multitudes
of people, and the worship of the Emperors as divine
was the first step by which the provincial assemblies
regained political importance, since it was natural that
the delegates once convened, if opportunity occurred,
should busy themselves with the interests of the prov-
ince. Thus within the close centralization of the Ro-
man State a provincial consciousness began again to
develop, and the Emperor-cult gave it su23port.
Not less great was its social importance. To that
large portion of the population which had been steadily
kept down by the strongly aristocratic tendency of the
CHAP. I.] WORSHIP OF THE EMPERORS. 59
earlier time, to all those who were excluded from muni-
cipal offices, and from the confraternities of priests of
the old gods, the service of the Emperor-gods stood
open, and they prosecuted it with zeal. In all the cities
we find colleges of Augustales^ or Claudiales^ to which
they could belong, and membership in such a fraternity
was for them a way of regaining social importance.
To the restoration of a middle class, as we can observe
it in these centuries, the worship of the Emperors
greatly contributed.
What we wish most to emphasize is, that this im-
perial cult supplied a worship which was common to
the whole Roman Empire. All other religions con-
tained something purely local. Every country, every
city, with a certain jealousy maintained that its divinity
was supreme. To the citizens of Ephesus there was
no higher deity than the great goddess Diana, to those
of Pergamus where ^sculapius was worshipped he was
chief. Not one of the ancient deities could have secured
a united worship, but all men did homage to the Caesar-
gods. In their service there arose a unity of worship
entirely unknown to former times. Thus it came to
pass that the worship of the Emperors eclipsed all
other worships. "The statues of the Emperors are
more reverenced than those of the ancient gods," testi-
fies Melito.^^ In Spain the number of priests of the
gods mentioned in inscriptions is insignificantly small
in comparison with the priests of the Emperors, and
in Africa the latter evidently far exceed the former in
importance. Even in the ancient seats of worship in
Greece arose images of the Emperors. In Delphi they
had largely supplanted the ancient deities ; in Elis, in
Corinth, in Sparta could be found their temples ; and
60 DECLINE OP RELIGION. [book i.
even in the temple of Olympian Zeus, by the side of
his renowned statue, stood an image of the Emperor.
In many ways, also, the ancient cults combined and
blended with the new. In Gaul the Emperor-god was
honored with rites which were borrowed from, the wor-
ship of the ancient gods, and the Arvales^ assiduously
as in other respects they cared for what was old, did
not oppose this innovation; they even assigned the
divine Emperor a place among the ancient gods.
In a certain sense it can be said that the religious
development of the ancient world culminated in this
imperial worship. It gave to Heathenism a centre of
religious unity, and to this extent invigorated it. Thus
now existed what hitherto had been unknown, a formal
universal State religion in which it was the duty of the
citizen to participate, and which he could not violate
without committing at the same time a crime against
the State. However tolerant one might be elsewhere,
there could be no concession here. With what for-
bearance were the religious peculiarities of the Jews
generally treated. Even the legions, when they entered
Jerusalem, w^ere obliged to leave their standards be-
hind that they might not seem to bring idols into the
holy city. Yet even the Jews were required to wor-
ship the Emperors. In Alexandria, the erection of an
image of the Emperor in one of the synagogues occa-
sioned a bloody insurrection ; and the order of Caligula
to set up his statue in the temple at Jerusalem would
doubtless have caused great mischief had not the mur-
der of the Emperor intervened. Here, therefore, was
the point where the growing Christianity necessarily
came into sharpest conflict with Heathenism. It could
be tolerated that Christians worshipped neither this god
CHAP. I.] EFFECT UPON HEATHENISM. 6]
nor that ; the heathen themselves adored different gods :
but that they scrupled to pay the Emperor the divine
honor which was his due, was not to be endured. Not
their abandonment of other religious rites of Pagan-
ism, but their refusal to strew incense to the Emperor,
was what decided the fate of most of the martyrs.
The worship of the Emperor strengthened heathen-
ism by giving it a common centre and by connecting
together its diversified forms ; yet it also sensibly
weakened it. Men saw too plainly what the gods
were to whom temples were erected and reverence paid.
When the Emperor Claudius died, poisoned by mush-
rooms, as the report ran, he too was transferred to the
gods. As was the custom, witnesses appointed for this
purpose testified upon oath that they had seen his soul
ascend into heaven. Seneca delivered an address which
extolled him as a god. His apotheosis was celebrated
with great jdo^P- And immediately afterwards the
same Seneca, teacher and minister of the new Emperor,
published a satire upon this deification under the title :
" The translation of Claudius into the society of the
pumpkins," ^^ in which not only the memory of the
Emperor was smirched with poor witticisms, but even
the facts about his death were intimated quite plainly.
Nero himself said with forced wit that mushrooms
must be a divine food since Claudius by eating them
had become a god. In Rome this was laughed at ; yet
none the less temples to the new god arose in the Capi-
tal and in the provinces, and it was a part of official
piety to offer to him the usual homage. Nero had a
daughter by Poppsea Sabina who died when three
months old. She too was exalted to the Divce, and Avas
honored with temples and offerings. So with Poppaea
62 DECLINE OF RELIGION. [book i.
Sabina herself. Hadrian afterwards crowned the whole
by deifying his beautiful page Antinous, for whom he
entertained an unnatural affection. Monuments, tem-
ples, and statues, were dedicated to him, and even a
city was specially set apart for his worship. And when
in the provinces, as was not the case in Rome, at least
in the beginning, temples and altars were erected to
the Emperors during their life-time, what sort of an
impression must have been made on their inhabitants
when they came to Rome and saw the Emperor Nero,
the god whose temple stood in their native city, appear
before the people as a player on the cithera, or as a
singer, exhibit his tricks, and then on bended knees
submissively await the verdict of the assembly. What
gods were these! Could the inquiry be repressed
whether the other deities who were worshipped were
any better and more worthy of confidence ?
in. FOREIGN KITES AND THE LONGING FOR REDEMPTION.
Nothing shows more conclusively that the people also
had begun to lose confidence in their gods, than the
foreign cults which were more and more crowding in.
For philosophical convictions do not take the place of a
lost faith with the multitude as they do with the edu-
cated. On the contrary there arises either perfect
indifference toward all religious rites, or, since such a
vacuum soon becomes intolerable, the old gods are
exchanged for new ones in the hope that the new may
prove more powerful than the old. How changed was
the religious life of Rome as early even as the beginning
of the Empire. No longer were seen there merely the
ancient and venerable brotherhoods of priests, austere
Vestals who guarded the sacred fire, augurs and harus-
CHAP. I] THE WORLD SEEKS NEW GODS 63
pices who searched into the future. Gauls went about
the streets, — priests of the great goddess Cybele, now
transferred to Rome. Howling and with dishevelled
hair they lashed themselves to blood with thongs,
struck their sounding cymbals, and offered for a hun-
dred eggs to ward off the diseases of Autumn. Priests
of the Egyptian Isis were also there, in long linen robes,
with the dog-mask before their faces, and their peculiar
rattle (sistrum) in their hands. Roman ladies thronged
the synagogues of the despised Jews, and many a
Roman observed the Jewish Sabbath in the hope of
propitiating the great Jehovah. All sorts of sooth-
sayers were there, — Chaldgeans, astrologers, people
pretending to possess Oriental wisdom .^^ There too
Roman soldiers, while officially paying due honor to
their own deities, revered, though at first only in secret,
an entirely new god which they had brought back with
them from some piratical war, Mithras, the Persian god
of light. It was a perfect Babel of religions. Scarcely
a type of worship could be found which had not its
adherents. Even the lowest form of Heathenism, Feti-
cism, reappeared. The Emperor Nero, having become
tired of the goddess Astarte, no longer worshipped
any deity, but only an amulet which had been given
him.^* The ruler of a world-wide Empire which em-
braced all culture had become the devotee of a fetish I
The Roman laws against foreign rites were very
strict. Cicero ^^ cites a regulation which forbade any
one to have gods separately, or to privately worship
new gods or foreign ones unless they had been legally
sanctioned. This forbade not only the public introduc-
tion of a new cultus, but also its private observance at
home and in retirement. Livy gives the law in a some-
64 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
what milder form. According to his statement foreign
rites were prohibited only so far as they were practised
in public, or in some sacred place. ^^ Xhe two accounts
may be reconciled, perhaps, by supposing that Cicero
states what was strictly legal, Livy the usual practice.
The Romans were religiously scrupulous about inter-
dicting outright the cult of any god. Significant, in
this respect, is an opinion reported by Livy : " When
the worship of the gods is nsed as a pretext for the
commission of crime the soul is seized with fear lest in
punishing the human wickedness, some divine right
blended with it may be violated." ^^ Even in the terri-
ble suppression of the Bacchanalia the government did
not venture to wholly prohibit this cult. Whoever
deemed it a matter of conscience could obtain from the
Prsetor permission for its observance, on condition that
not more than five persons should be present at the
sacrifice.^* This explains why the laws against foreign
religions had so little force. No one ventured to exe-
cute them with rigor. It would have been lawful to
enter private houses and forbid such worship even
there ; but this was not done, and therefore the foreign
cults came out from the houses on to the streets, and
the public places. There was, also, an inconsistency in
acknowledging a foreign god in his own land, but not
in Kome, — as when, for example, Augustus declared
expressly that he spared the city Alexandria in honor
of the great god Serapis, and then destroyed his temple
in Rome.^^ Every nation, every province was expected
to keep its own gods to itself. This religious decen-
tralization, however, was not consistent with the intense
centralization in political affairs. A blending of reli-
gions was as essential to the Roman Empire as a fusion
CHAP. I.] THE WORLD SEEKS NEW GODS. 65
of politics and of nationalities. Thus it came to pass
that repeated efforts on the part of the State to sup-
press foreign rites, proved wholly ineffectual. However
quickly the Chaldseans and astrologers, or the Jews,
were expelled from Rome, however promptly the tem-
ple of Isis, or any other foreign god, was closed, or the
laws against forbidden worships enforced anew, the cur-
rent waxed stronger and stronger, until, a century later,
Roman Emperors themselves built sanctuaries for Isis
and Serapis side by side with the temples of Jupiter
and Vesta ; noble Roman ladies walked in the proces-
sions of Isis, shaking costly golden sistra, or, clad in
linen robes and with bare feet, watched out the night
in her temple to obtain expiation for their frivolous
lives. And, later still, the sacred treasures of proud
Rome herself, the Palladium and the eternal fire, were
borne into the newly-built temple of some obscure god
brought from some far off place in the East.
We stand here before one of the most significant of
phenomena. The old world had become perplexed
about its century honored gods, and grew daily more
unsettled. The time of secure certitude was past; a
day of seeking and questioning had begun. Men sought
and asked for new gods, gods who could fulfil what
had been promised in vain for the old. The greater
the distance from which a god had been brought, the
more ancient, the more mysterious and singular his
cultus, so much the better, so much greater the hope
that he would be the right one. Above all, — let us
mark it well, — it was Oriental deities who found most
adherents. The religious current flowed manifestly
from East to West. It was a refluent tide. From the
days of Alexander the Great Grseco-Roman culture
66 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
had penetrated deeply into the East. Olympian gods
had their temples hard by the fantastic deities of Syria
and the animal gods of Egypt, either crowding them
out or at least throwing them into the shade. Now the
stream flowed back, and the gods from the Orontes and
from the Nile won a place in Greece and Rome, in Gaul
and on the Danube. This, also, was a preparation for
Christianity. To the world seeking for mightier gods
was preached the true God. Men looked for a new
god to the East; from the East, according to God's
counsel. He was actually to be proclaimed to the world,
as the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Let us examine this momentous movement more
closely. How came it to pass that the old world was
perplexed about its gods ? The fact is far too weighty
and significant to allow of our even attempting to ex-
plain it either from any isolated causes, or from mere
personal influence. The scorn and mockery of a scepti-
cal literature surely could not have destroyed faith if
it had still possessed a vigorous life. On the contrary,
this scorn and mockery set in precisely because the old
faith was undermined. The wonderful phenomenon can
only be explained by the fact that a transformation had
been effected in men's entire view of the world, in the
fundamental ideas by which they were impelled and
V controlled. The gods were still the same that they
had always been, but they could no longer be the same
to men as heretofore because men themselves had
changed, because they sought and asked for something
else, and desired something different from their gods.
Let us try to make this change clear. Here, especially,
shall we discover that the heathen world was prepared
for the acceptance of Christianity, that the fulness of
the time was come.
CHAP. I.] THIS WORLD AND THE NEXT. 67
Ancient life was directed to this world, not to the
future. Pleasure in existence, joy in the ever new
glory of the world, in the beauty and greatness of
human life, was its fundamental characteristic. The
belief in immortalit}^, firmly held at least so long as
pagan faith retained its vitality, did not at all change
this. For the dead were thought of as still turning
ever toward this life. This was the reason why men so
gladly buried their dead upon the streets where many
persons were accustomed to pass (recall, for instance,
the rows of tombs on the Appian Way in Rome) ; they
were to remain connected, as it were, with the living.
So, likewise, many epitaphs represent the dead as con-
tinually holding intercourse with the living, as, for
example, this one : " Titus Lollius Musculus is laid here
by the way-side that those who go by may say : Hail ! V
Titus Lollius ! " ^^ Another epitaph contains a formal
colloquy between the buried man and the passers by :
" Farewell, Victor Fabian ! — May the gods heap bless-
ings upon you, my friends. And you, also, travellers,
may the gods protect you as a reward for having tarried
a moment at the tomb of Fabian. May your journey
and your return be free from accident. And you who
have brought me crowns and flowers, may you be able
to do this many years." ^'' It was the custom for those
who went by a grave to say : " The earth be light upon
thee ! " " Whatsoever wayfarer goes by, let him say at
this burial mound : Rufinus ! Greeting ! The earth
be light upon thee ! that after his death one may also
wish for him : The earth be light upon thee I " runs
another inscription.^^ Sacrifices, also, and libations
were offered, and meals eaten at the graves. Wreaths
of roses and violets were laid upon them, and the dead
68 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
were supposed to rejoice in the light of the grave-lamp
and in the fragrance rising from the sweet-scented oil.
The horrors of death were veiled from men. They
lived joyously in the present with little concern about
death and eternity. They knew not the word : " The
wages of sin is death."
Sin, also, was still veiled from men. It was the times
of ignorance, as Paul says (Acts xvii. 30) ; for as the
tendency of ancient life was toward this world not the
other, so it was occupied with what is without, rather
than with that which is within man. Hence the in-
clination for art, especially for architecture and sculp-
ture. Hence the taste for decoration, the fondness for
the theatre, the predilection for spectacles of every
kind, for pomps and triumphal processions. Hence,
too, the absorption of the man in the citizen. Man as
man had no value, the infinite worth of a human soul
was not yet recognized. The word of the Lord : " What
is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and
lose his own soul," is a wisdom that was hidden from an-
tiquity. Men looked without not within, not into their
own hearts, therefore they did not find sin. They did
not attempt to look any more deeply into Nature. The
natural science of the ancients did not go beyond mere
external description. With a vivid sense of the beauty
of Nature they lacked susceptibility to its grandeur and
sublimity. The glory of the Alpine world never dawned
upon the Romans.^^ They liked only gentle and pleas-
ing landscapes. Christianity first unlocked the sense
for Nature, by teaching us to understand a creation
groaning with us, and by showing the connection of
Nature with ourselves and our own life.
The great transformation which now took place was
CfiAP. 1.] WHAT IS TRUTH ? 69
the turning from wliat is without to what is within,
from this life to the life to come. If we trace this
change up to its origin w^e may say, it begins with the
word of Socrates : " Know thyself." From this aphor-
ism may be dated the dissolution of ancient life, from
this point it turned to a new life which came into the
world with the call of which that word of the greatest
sage of Greece was only an anticipation : " Repent, for
the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Man as man was
now respected, the real Ego came to the front, the devel-
opment of personality proper became of chief impor-
tance. Though at first apprehended only in a pagan way
and with reference to the present life, the question of
salvation arose : How may I become happy? how shall
I attain peace ? This was the great question which now
occupied the wise, over which the centuries wearied them-
selves, to come at last to the conclusion that all is in
vain. But when the ancient world had reached this
point, it was able to listen to the message of salvation
by grace.
Whoever will be happy must strive after knowledge.
The wise, the well-educated man is the happy man. To
him is the hidden nature of things revealed, and to
him, the man of understanding, evil has become unreal.
But can we know any thing? know with certainty?
One philosophical school followed another. What one
proclaimed for truth was denied by its successor ; the
end was complete scepticism, doubt, and despair of all
truth. " What is truth ? " asked Pilate, and with him
multitudes of his contemporaries. In long array Cicero
adduces the doctrines of different philosophers concern-
inof the human soul, and then adds : " Which of these
opinions may be true, a god mav know ; which may be
70 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
only probable is a difficult question." ^^ Ah ! if one
only might have a guide to truth, sighs Seneca.''^ Thus
men now looked for guides; Plato, Pythagoras, the
ancient philosophers, must be such. The quest went
beyond the Greeks; Egyptian, Indian wisdom seemed
to offer still greater assurance. Thus something
brought from far, replete with mystery, inspired confi-
dence at first. Here too men discovered that they were
deceived. " We will wait," Plato had already said,
"for One, be it a god or a god-inspired man, to teach
us our religious duties, and, as Athene in Homer says
to Diomed, to take away the darkness from our eyes," ^^
and in another place : " We must lay hold of the best
human opinion in order that borne by it as on a raft we
may sail over the dangerous sea of life, unless we can
find a stronger boat, or some word of God, which will
more surely and safely carry us." ''^ The old world,
convinced of the fragility of its self-constructed float,
now desired this stancher vessel ; confused by its own
wisdom, it longed for a Revelation.
There were two leading ways by which happiness was
sought. Enjoy ! said Epicurus. Enjoy to the full the
good things of this life, this is the way to happiness.
Forego ! exhorted the Stoic, or, to speak with the chief
representative of this school in the age of the Empe-
rors, Epictetus : Abstain and endure ! True happiness
is only to be found in tranquillity of spirit wherein
man, renouncing all things and calmly accepting what
fate appoints for him, allows nothing to disquiet him.
The Stoic school was the leading one in the time of the
Empire ; all thought which dealt with the more serious
questions belonged to it in greater or less degree. Hap-
piness was not to be found in enjoyment, therefore it
CHAP. I.] PESSIMISM. 71
was sought in renunciation ! The Scepticism, also, of
which we have before spoken, was itself a renunciation
— a despair of attaining to assured knowledge. The
times, too, were no longer favorable to enjoyment, they
preached abstinence loudly enough. For the world
once so gay had become more and more gloomy. The
days were past when in sunny Greece men built the
Parthenon, and rejoiced in the creations of a Phidias
and Praxiteles; departed, also, from Rome were the
days of republican greatness when men lived and strove
for father-land. The One, the Emperor, was now all,
and there was no longer room for men like the Gracchi
and the Scipios. To be sure it seemed as if society
under the first Emperors, when men revelled in the
treasures of a conquered world, was everywhere joyous.
But it was not really so bright as it appeared. Men
were not satisfied. That refined luxury, those voluptu-
ous banquets, those orgies became themselves sources
of pain. One symptom of such dissatisfaction was the
widely-spread inclination to dream one's self back into
simpler times, when the cows still pastured on the Pala-
tine, and Senators, clad in the skins of animals, counselled
on the meadow. It was precisely as in the last century,
when men were enraptured by Rousseau."^* The age in
which the treasures of the world were squandered in
luxurious pleasure, ran swiftly enough to its end. Un-
der Emperors like Caligula and Nero, all property, all
pleasure, life itself, became insecure. And while some,
indeed, solicitous to spend all the more quickly an
existence which was uncertain, sought in the most
refined revelry compensation for the higher good life no
longer afforded, from others were heard for this very
reason all the more frequent complaints of the corrup-
72 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book l.
tion of the world, and the vanity of all that is earthly.
The view of life as a whole became more and more
pessimistic.
Such tones were not unfamiliar to Greece, even in
its palmy days. From Homer on, a low, yet distinct
lamentation sounds through all its splendor, testify-
ing to a presentiment that something was wanting,
that the solution of the riddle of the world believed
to have been found, could not be the right one. How
Homer sighs over the frailty of men. They fade like
leaves, no being is more miserable. Like shadows, says
Pindar, like a dream, says ^schylus, they pass away.
Ever recurs the thought : it were best never to have
been born ; the next best, to die early ; and with pro-
found sadness Sophocles gives expression to this senti-
ment in the (Edipus at Colonus :
" Happiest beyond compare
Never to taste of life ;
Happiest in order next,
Being born, with quickest speed
Thither again to turn
From whence we came."'^^
These tones became unmistakably stronger and
stronger, the lamentation louder, the resignation great-
er. According to Homer ^^ two jars stand in the palace
of Zeus, one with evil, one with good, gifts for men.
Later, there were two with evil gifts, and only one
with good, and, later still, Simonides says : " Sorrow
follows sorrow so quickly that not even the air can
penetrate between them." '^ Happiness was no longer
the goal of Philosophy. Men despaired of attaining it.
"The aim of all Philosophy," says Seneca, "is to despise
CHAP. I.] LOI^GING FOR AKOTHER LIF"R. 7B
life." Here, too, Heathenism ended in barrenness and
sheer despair, and at last the only comfort was that
men are free to leave this miserable world by suicide.
Fatet exitus ! The way out of this life stands open !
That is the last consolation of expiring Heathenism.
"Seest thou," exclaims Seneca, "yon steep height?
Thence is the descent to freedom. Seest thou you
sea, yon river, yon well? Freedom sits there in the
depths. Seest thou yon low, withered tree? There
freedom hangs. Seest thou thy neck, thy throat, thy
heart? They are ways of escape from bondage." ^^
Can the bankruptcy of heathenism be more plainly de-
clared than in these words ? Despairing of every kind
of happiness it had no further consolation for the evils
of this life than suicide, and it knew no other victory
over the world than this flight out of it. But who does
not also hear how the cry breaks forth ever louder
and louder from the heathen world ; " O wretched man
that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this
death?"
If happiness cannot be found in this life, men look
all the more longingly to the next. The thought of
another world was not unknown to the ancient Greeks
and Romans, but it was for them only one of shadows.
This world alone was real, alone offered true happi-
ness ; the other was the gloomy, joyless, lower world.
Ulysses, in Homer, sees the dead as shadows greedily
drink the blood which for a moment at least restores to
them real life, and he would rather linger here upon
earth in the lowest station than be a king among the
shades.'^^ Men shuddered at the thought of that other
world. The heathen through life were slaves to the
fear of death. " My temples are gray," sings the pleas-
74 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
ure-loving Anacreon,^^ " and white my head ; beautiful
youth is gone. Not much remains of sweet life.
Therefore I often sigh, fearing Tartarus, dreadful abyss
of Hades. Full of horror is the descent thither, and
whoever has once gone down there never returns."
But the less this world fulfilled what it promised, and
the more its evil and its emptiness were felt, and the
spirit of resignation was developed, the more was this
view reversed. Life in this world began to be looked
upon as shadowy, and the true life was sought first in
the life to come. Joy in existence, in the beauty and
glory of the earth and of human life, disappeared ; the
consciousness of v/eakness, of the limitations of human
nature, the sense of the vanity of all earthly things,
increased. The body was now spoken of as the prison
of the soul,^^ and death, which Anacreon dreaded as a
fearful descent into Tartarus, was extolled as an eman-
cipation. " After death," says Cicero, " we shall for
the first time truly live." ^^ How often in the schools
of the rhetoricians is this theme discussed: Death no
evil ! How often the thought recurs in Seneca, that the
body is only an inn for the spirit, that the other world
is its real home. Indeed, just as did the primitive
Christians, he calls the day of death " the birth-day of
eternity." ^^ While, however, the glory of this world
faded before the eyes of men, the other grew in distinct-
ness and reality; and more than once we meet in. liter-
ature and in works of art with pictures of the future
life as one of joy, a symposium, a banquet, where the
souls of the departed rejoice together with gods, heroes
and sages. Already had Cicero in the Bream of Seipio
thus described the other life, and Seneca paints it yet
more vividly. Plutarch delights to contemplate it,
CHAP. I.] HOPELESSNESS. 75
and rejoices that there " God will be our Leader and
King, and that in closest union with Him we shall un-
weariedly and with ardent longing behold that beauty
which is ineffable and cannot be expressed to men."^*
Is there then another world ? Heathenism now stood
face to face with this great question, and was wholly
unable to make any reply. Many answered it with a
resigned No ! Csesar, indeed, had once said in the
Senate with cool composure : " Beyond this life there
is no place for either trouble or joy," and Cato had ap-
provingly responded : " Beautifully and excellently has
Gains Gsesar spoken in this assembly concerning life
and death, esteeming as false those things v/hich are
related of the lower world." ^Q Indeed we find not a
few sepulchral inscriptions which confirm the apostle's
declaration that the heathen are " without hope." We
read: "To eternal sleep!" "To eternal rest!" Or
the oft recurring distich : " I was not, and became : I
was, and am no more. This much is true, whoever
says otherwise does not speak the truth, for I shall not
be ! " or, " We all, whom Death has laid low, are decay-
ing bones and ashes, nothing else ! " or, " I was nought,
and am nought. Thou who readest this: Eat, drink,
make merry, come!"^^ Many inscriptions blend with
resignation a tone of frivolity. Thus we read on the
grave-stone of a veteran of the Fifth Legion : " So long
as I lived, I gladly drank ; drink, ye who live ! " ^^
Gomplete resignation is expressed by Pliny : ^^ " What
folly is it to renew life after death ! Where shall
created beings find rest if you suppose that shades in
hell, and souls in heaven, continue to have any feeling.
You rob us of man's greatest good, death. Let us
rather find in the tranquillity which nreceded our ex-
76 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book t.
istence, the pledge of the repose which is to follow it."
Still more decidedly Lucretius : "The fear of the lower
world must be driven headlong forth. It poisons life
to its lowest depths, it spreads over all things the black-
ness of death, it leaves no pleasure pure and unal-
loyed." Utter annihilation was its consolation. " When
we have ceased to be, nothing can excite our feelings,
nothing disturb our rest, even though heaven, earth,
and sea should be commingled." ^^ Yet Plutarch had
already replied : " What is gained by substituting for
fear of the lower world dread of annihilation. It is
as if one should say to passengers in a vessel who are
frightened by a storm : Keep calm, the ship will soon
go to the bottom." ^^ Others left it uncertain whether
all is over at death, or not. The celebrated physician
Galen, no doubt, only expressed the conviction of
thousands when, not venturing himself to decide the
question, he said that he intended as little to affirm as
to deny immortality ; ^^ and there is almost a touch of
pathos in what Tacitus writes in his life of Agricola :
" If there is a place for the spirits of the pious, if as
the wise suppose, great souls do not become extinct with
their bodies : " . . .^^ "If" — in that If lies the utter
disconsolateness, the whole torturing uncertainty, and
no less the ardent longing of Heathenism. If? Who
gave the answer ? Men sought and asked here and
there ; no other question so occupied all the profounder
minds as did the question of immortality; now they
believed that the Eastern religions would shed light,
for these religions revolved wholly about birth and
death; now they knocked at the gates of the under
world with magic formulas, adjurations and rites of
consecration. But no answer. The more joyless this
CHAP. I.] CONSCIOUSNESS OF SIN. 77
world became, the more every thing faded which in the
freshness of youth had shone so brightly, the State,
Art, Science offering no more satisfaction, public life
affording no longer a field for activity, private life,
property, pleasure, life itself becoming insecure, so
much the more did men long for another world whose
portals still stood closed before them. With what
power then must have come the preaching of this
word : " Christ is risen ! The wages of sin is death :
but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ
our Lord." Nothing led more believers to Christianity,
even from cultivated circles, than the sure answer it
gave to the question respecting another world, and the
hope it offered of eternal life to those whose earthly
expectations had been destroyed.
But the question of a future life necessarily raises a
further question. If there is another life how can men
secure it ? How may they attain to the communion of
the blest ? The consciousness of sin also now began to
awake, and with it the same question. Strictly speak-
ing the ancient world knew nothing of sin. It deplored
the need, the misery, the transitoriness of human life ;
but it had no conception of the corruption of human
nature. Sin as a defection from God, sin as guilt, was
hidden from it. In this respect, too, there was now a
change. Seneca discourses of the depravity of man in
words which have often been thought to sound like
Paul's. " We have all sinned, some grievously, others
more lightly, some purposely, others accidentally im-
pelled or led astra}^, and not only have we transgressed,
we shall continue to do so till the end of life." " It
was the complaint of our ancestors, it is our own, it
will be that of posterity, that morals are subverted,
78 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
that corruption reigns." Seneca sought for the cause
of this in man himself. " The human mind is by na-
ture perverse, and strives for what is forbidden. Our
fault is not external to us, it is within us and cleaves
to our souls." ^ Indeed Plutarch openly expresses the
idea of an evil principle. '' For, since nothing can arise
without a cause, and good cannot be the ground of evil,
therefore evil as well as good must have a special ori-
gij^"93 xhe conviction now became wide-spread that
man as he is cannot enter into the society of the blessed,
but only when he is purified and cleansed from sins,
when he is transformed and renewed. For this the
old gods and their cults were insufficient. The Olym-
pian deities were gods for the prosperous; they satis-
fied men so long as life shone in the serene light of a
beautiful present. A man conscious of sin, anxious
for salvation found them inadequate to his needs. The
Capitoline Jupiter, Vesta, Victoria, were State gods.
They sufficed, so long as the man was absorbed in the
citizen. They were gods for publicity. A man who
turned his gaze in upon himself, who looked into the
depravity of his own heart, who sought for peace,
could no longer rest in them. This was the deepest
reason why the heathen were perplexed about their
gods, why men turned pre-eminently to the Oriental
cults with their gloomy sadness, their penances and
purifications, why the mysteries now became universal
instead of local, and new ones were added to the old
with ever increasing extravagance. It is the awakened
need of Redemption which is mirrored in all this. Let
us reflect a moment on the character of the Roman
religion as above described. It was predominantly a
ceremonial service. Men kept their accounts with the
CHAP. I.] PRESAGES OF REDEMPTION. 79
gods in order by the punctual performance of the pre-
scribed rites. Priests, in the exact sense of the word,
mediators between God and men, were unknown. The
magistrates offered sacrifices ; the priest was only a mas-
ter of ceremonies. There were no expiations, properly
speaking, — there was no sense of need of them, for
there was no consciousness that man by sin is separated
from God. There was no desire to approach the gods ;
nothing was more remote from the dry prosaic Roman
cultus than such mystical excitements. Therefore, the
more the consciousness of sin awoke, the less did the
Roman cultus satisfy. What was lacking in it the
oriental religions offered in richest measure. They had
a priesthood which undertook to reconcile man with
Deity; they had purifications and propitiations; they
offered to man a religion which corresponded to what
he now required, that he be brought into immediate
contact with God. Hence the current tliat now set
from the East to the West, hence the power which the
religions of the Orient gained over men's minds.
In this way the anticipation became more general
that Redemption would soon dawn. For this also
men's eyes turned to the East. From thence was help
to come. These presentiments clothed themselves partly
in heathen garb. The cycle of the ages, it was said,
is completed. The golden age has been followed by
the silver, this by the iron. Now this, also, is passing
away; then will the cycles begin anew, Saturn will
again assume the government, and the golden age re-
turn. In part however these presages bore a Jewish
coloring, and their origin in Hebrew prophecy can be
more or less clearly perceived. Suetonius and Tacitus
both report a wide-spread rumor that the Orient would
80 FOREIGN RITES. REDEMPTION. [book i.
become powerful, and the dominion of the world be
assigned by Fate to the Jews. Even among the Roman
legions which Titus led against Jerusalem there were
indications- of such thoughts. They looked on the
holy city which they were come to destroy with a cer-
tain superstitious awe, and even during the siege there
were not wanting deserters who could bring nothing
else to the city encircled with iron arms than the ex-
pectation of some extraordinary divine aid, and the
hope of participating in the dominion promised to it.
Remarkably do these presentiments re-echo in the Fourth
Eclogue of Virgil. The poet there celebrates a child
who shall restore the Golden Age, in pictures which,
directly or indirectly, are derived from the ninth and
eleventh chapters of Isaiah. The boy descends from
heaven, then peace prevails on the earth which without
culture liberally yields its gifts, the herds are no longer
afraid of the lions, the yoke is taken off from the ox,
and the vine-dresser toils no more in the sweat of his
brow. It is supposed that these words are to be applied
to a son of Asinius Pollio. If this is correct the illusion
was indeed great. This very child of whom Virgil
sings as Messiah, when grown to manhood, became one
of Nero's numerous victims, and starved himself to
death in prison.^*
So the prophecy of the coming salvation went forth
from Israel into the heathen world. We come thus to
an element which we have not yet considered, but
which was of great importance among the religious
factors of that age, Judaism.
CHAP. I.] THE MISSION OF ISRAEL. 81
IV. JUDAISM.
Israel's mission was twofold. It was to be the birth-
place of the Christian Church, and to prepare a way for
it among the heathen. At first glance the two seem
essentially opposed, yet in Israel the apparent contra-
diction was wonderfully reconciled. In order to become
the birthplace of Christianity, Israel was necessarily a
chosen people, separated from all the heathen, indeed
strongly antagonistic to them, as the sole possessor of a
divine revelation, and alone knowing the living God
whose will had been made known to them in the law.
That they might pave the way for Christianity among
the heathen, it was necessary that the Jews should be
dispersed among them, dwell in their midst, and be in
constant intercourse with them. In every respect the
Jews were qualified to meet these, at first view, irrecon-
cilable demands. The country assigned them as a
dwelling-place was specially adapted to this end. Pal-
estine was a secluded land, shut in like a garden by
mountains, deserts, and sea, yet opening on all sides to
other lands, and affording easy access to the chief cen-
tres of the world. The character of the people was
suited to the same purpose. No nation possessed so
marked an individuality, none at the same time was so
endowed for universality ; none preserved so tenaciously
its own peculiarities, and remained, even in the midst
of other nations, so distinct and exclusive, and yet
none understood so well the art of everywhere pushing
itself into favor, and adapting itself to circumstances.
The Jew settled as a citizen in all regions, knew how
everywhere to make a place for himself, and yet every-
where remained a Jew. The way in which the people
82 JUDAISM. [BOOK I.
had been led was another qualification. " Get thee out
of thy country and from thy kindred." This call of
Abraham was the beginning of Jewish history. It began
with separation, and for centuries all God's dealings with
the chosen people had this design, to set them apart,
to seclude them, to establish their national character.
Then there came a change, and every thing tended to
their dispersion. The Captivity was the turning point.
From this time on, with Palestinian Judaism appeared
the Judaism of the Dispersion — the Diaspora; with
the Temple, the ritual centre of the entire nation, the
Synagogue, promoting doctrine more than ritual, yet
creating in all countries and cities new centres of Jew-
ish life ; with the Hebrew Old Testament, the Septua-
gint, appointed to carry to the Heathen also the Law,
the Prophets, and the Psalms of David. Palestinian
Judaism, with the Temple and the Hebrew Old Testa-
ment, was in the highest degree a centralizing power.
To it gravitated all the countless scattered Jewish con-
gregations. The Diaspora^ with the Synagogue and
the Septuagint, was a widely operative centrifugal
power ; through it Israel became a messenger of God,
a missionary to the heathen world.
Only a part of the Jewish people had returned from
the Captivity. The larger portion had either remained
in Babylon, or wandered to other lands. This number
was continually increased, partly by those who had
been carried away prisoners of Avar, and through their
own industry, and because the Romans knew not what
to do with such strange superstitious people, had
acquired freedom and remained in foreign countries,
and partly by those who had voluntarily left over-popu-
lous Palestine for purposes of gain elsewhere. Thus
CHAP. I.] DISPERSION OF THE JEWS. 83
the Jews were scattered over the whole Roman Empire,
and even beyond it. " Already," says the Geographer
Strabo,^^ " a Jewish population has entered every city,
and it is not easy to find a place in the habitable world
which has not received this race, and is not possessed
by it." Naturally they were most strongly represented
in the Eastern countries, Babylonia and Eastern Syria.
In Egypt, they constituted more than one-eighth of the
entire population ; and in Leontopolis they had a tem-
ple of their own, whose erection, it is true, was disap-
proved by those dwelling in Palestine, yet was carried
through without actual schism. In Alexandria, that
great commercial centre, they occupied two of its five
wards; and were scattered throughout the others.^
Not less numerous were they in Antioch, that metropo-
lis on the other side of Palestine. Antiochus the Great
had transplanted thousands of Jewish families to Phry-
gia and Lydia. From there they spread over all of
Asia Minor, and thence found their way into Greece.
Taurus in Cilicia, Ephesus in Asia, were centres of
Jewish life. Throughout Greece, in Northern Africa,
in Sicily and in Italy were Jewish settlements. In
Rome under Augustus the Jews numbered perhaps
40,000, in the time of Tiberius perhaps 80,000. They
occupied the fourteenth district, across the Tiber, and a
part of the city near the Porta Capena, the beginning
of the Appian way. Their residences stood, also, in the
most aristocratic portion of the city. The existence
of seven synagogues in Rome has been definitely estab-
lished, and probably there were others. In Spain, in
Gaul, even as far as Britain, representatives of the
Jews were not wanting, and the recent discovery of one
of their cemeteries of the first century proves their
presence in the lands of the Danube.^^
84 JUDAISM. [book I.
Their principal business was trade. Retailing, ped-
dling, and especially the smaller money-transactions (the
larger were carried on by the Roman knights, the bank-
ers of that time) were almost wholly in their hands,
and they prosecuted this traffic with such characteristic
industry and shrewdness that the cities of Asia Minor
complained to the Emperor that they were completely
drained by the Jews. The wholesale trade, also, was
in many places entirely under their control. In Alex-
andria they almost monopolized the corn-trade, and
carried on an extensive traffic with the more distant
East. Wherever money was to be made, there the
Jew, especially if liberalized, was to be found. We
meet him in Rome as scholar, poet, actor, and even
singer. " The Jews sell every thing," says Juvenal.
Though in the writings of the Roman poet just
named, and of others, the Jews appear as a beggarly
race,^*^ — the father buying old glass and other rubbish,
the children peddling matches, — many of them obtained
great wealth ; and this wealth, together with their
adroitness in improving every favorable opportunity to
put themselves unconditionally at the service of what-
ever government was in power, though at heart un-
friendly to the entire constitution of the State and
indifferent to its weal and woe, had procured for them
important privileges. They were exempt from military
duty, ^9 and from the payment of certain taxes, and
could not be summoned on the Sabbath before a
court. So far was this consideration for them carried,
that the municipalities were obliged to pay them money
instead of corn and oil which were regarded by them
as impure. Indeed, when the delivery of these supplies
fell on a Sabbath, payment to the Jews was required to
CHAP. I.] THE SYNAGOGUES. 85
be made on another day.^^"^ Above all, they had perfect
freedom in their religious observances. Wherever they
dwelt together in sufficient numbers they had a Syna-
gogue, or at least a place of prayer (a Proseucha^ Acts
xvi. 13), formed a distinct communion under chosen
presidents, and exercised a large autonomy which, in
consequence of their religious and national isolation
from the heathen among whom the}^ lived, embraced
not merely matters of religion, but much besides.
All these Jewish congregations were most intimately
connected with each other, and with the centre of
Judaism, Jerusalem. Every Jew, however far away he
dwelt, regarded himself as a member of the chosen peo-
ple, and strove to keep the bonds of union fresh and
strong. He paid yearly his temple tax,^"^ sent offerings
and gifts to Jerusalem, and once, at least, in his life went
up to visit the holy city and to keep the feast.^^^ The
Supreme Council in Jerusalem sent annually the calen-
dar of festivals to the congregations of the Dispersion,
communicated to them important decisions, and took
care that they received information of all events which
concerned the Jewish people. Since the Jews as mer-
chants were great travellers, brethren often came bring-
ing news of other congregations, and such guests were
gladly permitted to speak in the Synagogues. In brief,
whether one of their congregations w^as located on the
banks of the Danube, or on the margin of the Libyan
desert, it was a part of a universal society. The Jews
well understood how to use this connection for the
promotion of their own interests. If a Jewish con-
gregation received any injury, all alike broke out into
sedition, and this skill in exciting alarm had not a little
to do in securing for them, notwithstanding the uni-
86 JUDAISM. [BOOK I,
versal hate and contempt which they had to endure,
the greatest respect from every Roman official up even
to the Proconsul.
Apart from this, hatred and contempt were their
usual lot. To the heathen their whole appearance was
strange and utterly unintelligible, so entirely different
were they in all respects from the other nations. If we
would be convinced how unique this people was in
history, if we would obtain an immediate impression of
this, we need only recall the judgments of the heathen
upon them. What marvellous tales concerning them
were in circulation ! ^^^ Now they were said to have
sprung from Mount Ida in Crete ; now from lepers who
had been expelled from Egypt. In the desert, when
there was a great scarcity of water, an ass showed them
a fountain ; therefore they worshipped the head of an
ass as God. Tacitus thinks that Moses, in order to
make sure of the people, gave them new customs con-
tradictory to all the usages of mankind. " They deem
profane what we hold sacred, and permit what we
abominate." ^^* To the Romans the commandments
about food and fasting appeared ridiculous in the ex-
treme. The prohibition of swine's flesh was an inex-
haustible theme for their wit. The Sabbath rest they
could explain only by laziness. Juvenal ^^^ thus ridi-
cules an idler :
" His sire's the fault, who every seventh day
Neglected vv'ork, and idled time away ; "
and Tacitus relates with entire seriousness : " After-
wards when inactivity became agreeable the seventh
year (the Sabbatical) was also given up to idleness." ^^
Particularly offensive was their worship without images,
CHAP. I.] PAGAN ANIMOSITT. 87
and their entire faith was to the heathen the acme of
superstition and credulity. " Credat Judceus Apella^^''
" A Jew may believe that," ^^^ says Horace in order to
characterize something wholly incredible.
This wide-spread hatred of the Jews, — to which
countless bloody sacrifices were offered, especially dur-
ing the Jewish war, — was doubtless, to some extent,
a consequence of their hatred of the heathen. They
were treated with contempt because they themselves
despised the unclean Gentiles. The Jew had a large
self-consciousness. He looked upon himself as a mem-
ber of the elect people, who possessed, in contrast with
the blind heathen, a divine revelation. This self-con-
sciousness was intensified by his Messianic hopes. He
was destined, he believed, soon to receive the dominion
of the world, and he made no reserve of this expecta-
tion even when face to face with the heathen. The
less its depressed and enslaved present harmonized
with this hope for the future, the more absurd must it
have seemed to the proud Roman that this filthy race
of beggars should dream of such things. We need
only glance at the writers of the Empire to meet every-
where witticisms about the circumcised Jews.^^^ Wher-
ever the Jew went or stood he was encompassed by
pagan ridicule. In the theatre he was the object of
coarse sallies, which were sure to call forth laughter ;
on the street he had frequently to endure brutal abuse.
Hatred and contempt might well be increased by the
fact that the heathen could not be insensible to the
wide and profound influence which the Jews were ex-
erting. Seneca says of them, "the vanquished have
given laws to the victors." ^^^ At a time when the old
gods no longer satisfied the heathen, when so many long-
V
88 JUDAISM. [BOOK I
iog spirits, anxious for happiness, were seeking peace by
foreign gods, and secret doctrines and expiations, how
attractive must Judaism have been ! Here Monotheism,
which wise men taught as an esoteric religion for the
cultivated, appeared as a religion for the people ; here
was a spiritual cult infinitely superior to the wild, and
often immoral, heathen cults ; here v/as a revealed word
of God ; here were offerings and expiations.
It is true that only a small number of heathen passed,
by circumcision, wholly over to Judaism, great as was
the trouble the Pharisees gave themselves, compassing
sea and land to make one proselyte (Matt, xxiii. 15).
Those who were gained, v/ere for the most part com-
plete slaves of Pharisaism, allowing themselves to be
led blindly by blind leaders, fanatics, proud saints, who
afterward became the most zealous persecutors of the
Christians. Often worldly advantages would come
into play, particularly exemption from military service,
for there was certainly a special reason why Tiberius,
in the year 19 of our era, inflicted on the Jewish com-
munity in Rome precisely this punishment of recruiting
from it. Our Lord, also, passed, in the passage just
referred to, a severe judgment on these proselytes.
The largest number by far of those who attached them-
selves to Judaism were only the so-called Proselytes of
the Gate. Without receiving circumcision, and thus
obliging themselves to keep the whole ceremojiial law,
they were bound merely to avoid idolatry, to serve the
one God, and to keep the so-called precepts of Noah.
On these conditions they had a part in the blessings of
Judaism. They are the devout men and women so
often spoken of in the book of Acts. They were, for
the most part, souls anxious for salvation, who sought in
CHAP. I.] INFLUENCE ON THE HEATHEN. 89
the synagogues for that peace of heart which they had
failed to find in the proud temples of Greece, and the
intoxicating cults of the Orient. There was, in all the
cities, a great number of such persons, for the most part
women.^^® In Damascus, almost all the women are said
to have belonged to this class, and, in Rome, there were
many even from the higher circles. On the gravestones
of Jewish cemeteries we read names from many an illus-
trious old Roman family, the gens Fulvia, Flavia, Valina,
and others. The report spread that even the Empress
Poppsea Sabina was a proselyte. Even without becom-
ing exactly proselytes many attached themselves to the
synagogue, fasted, prayed, kept the Sabbath, and lighted
candles on Jewish festival days. In this there may have
been much superstition. The experiment which had
been tried with so many other gods was repeated with
Jehovah. But on the other hand many a soul thirsting
after the living God found there its refuge. A circle
formed itself about the synagogue which, no longer
pagan, nor yet Jewish, was in suspense and in a position
of expectancy, and thus was prepared for the preaching
of the Gospel. Those who belonged to it had re-
nounced idolatry, had learned to hearken to a revela-
tion. The Old Testament was known to them, the
law had awakened in them a consciousness of sin, and
prophecy a longing for salvation, and yet they did not
share in that pride of Jewish descent and Pharisaic
righteousness of the law which with the Jews them-
selves was so great a hindrance to the reception of the
preaching of the cross. These devout heathen were
everywhere, as at Philippi (Acts xvi. 14) and Thessa-
lonica (Acts xvii. 4), the first to receive the message of
Christ.
90 JUDAISM. [book I.
How wonderfully every thing here, also, was prepared
for the Gospel. What Palestine was for the whole
world, the synagogue was for every city. How could
the youthful Christianity possibly have made its way
through the unyielding, rock-like mass of Heathenism
without the Diaspora ? Now it found channels every-
where cut, a net-work of canals extending over the
whole Roman Empire, and was able to diffuse itself
rapidly in every direction. Knowing the chief seats of
Judaism, we know already in advance the chief seats of
early Christianity. Everywhere the ways were made
ready for it, the centres determined. Moreover we
should remember that the privileges of Judaism were
at first of service to the Christian Church. So long as
Christianity was regarded by the heathen as a Jewish
sect, it appears to have been tolerated by them. Juda-
ism served as a protecting sheath to the young plant,
until it had gained sufficient strength to endure the
storms.
Truly the times were fulfilled ; the old world was
ready, not to produce Christianity from itself, but to
receive it. In Greece, in Rome, had been shown what
the human spirit can accomplish in its own strength.
It is capable of great things, and gloriously has it
wrought, but all the greatness sank into ruin, all the
glory paled, and one thing it could not do, it could not
appease the longing of every human soul for the eternal,
for God. The end of Heathenism, as respects religion,
is complete inefficiency, perfect despair of itself. Man
can know nothing with certainty, this is the end of all
questioning. Patet exitus! This is the end of all
search for happiness, suicide is the last consolation.
But, in the act of expiring. Heathenism reaches forth
CHAP. I.] THE FULNESS OF THE TIMES. 91
to the new creation wliicli God will provide. Every-
where coming events cast their shadow before them,
the universality of Christianity is adumbrated in the
universality of the Roman Empire, faith in the one
living God in the Monotheism which through the labor
of Philosophy and the mingling of national gods opens
a way for itself into ever widening circles. Everywhere
is disclosed a seeking and questioning which wait for
their fulfilment and will find it, the seeking for Re-
demption in the Saviour of all nations, the questioning
respecting the other life in the preaching of the risen
One. And in the midst of the seeking heathen world
Israel stands as a Prophet, fulfilling here also its mission
to prepare a place for Him who is to come. Here, if
anywhere, can it be perceived, not to say grasped with
the hand, that every thing in the history of our race,
according to the plan and counsel of God who is rich
in mercy, finds its goal in Him in whom all the prom-
ises of God are Yea and Amen, in Christ the Lord.
CHAPTER II.
THE MOEAL CONDITION OF THE HEATHEN WOELD.
" We ourselves also were sometimes foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving
divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, and hating
one another." — Tit. iii. 3.
I. FAITH AND MORALS.
An age which has become unsettled in its faith is
wont to lay all the greater stress uj)on morality. Our
own age of Illuminism, for instance, — how prone it
was to moralizing. What voluminous compends of
Etliics, what a flood of moral sermons, moral tales,
moral songs, what space was given in the catechisms
to lessons on the virtues, of which too many could
not be enumerated. There was a consciousness that
something had been lost, and at the same time an un-
v/illingness to acknowledge it; a misgiving that, with
faith, morality also must decline, and a desire to prove,
at least by words and looks, that this was not so. Men
would gladly have kept the fruit although they had cut
off the roots. They had so much to say about the fruit
because they wished to persuade themselves that this
was still uninjured. But soon enough it appeared that
with the root the fruit as well was irrecoverably lost.
92
CHAP, n.] I.AUDATION OF VIRTUE. 93
The first century was a similar period. If we sur-
vey its literature we shall feel ourselves tempted to
regard it as moral to an extraordinary degree. ]Men
moralized abundantly. Philosophy w^as wholly absorbed
by Ethics. Casuistry was perfected, even to the mi-
nutest details, so that the wise man was provided with
a rule of conduct for every relation and event of life.
Seneca's purpose is not so much to teach philosoph}^ as
to prepare for a successful life.^ Characteristic is his
relation to Annseus Serenus, captain of the "v/atch
under Nero. Seneca regulates his life even to the
smallest detail, points out what he shall read, how he
may best spend the day. Serenus lays before him the
state of his soul, and Seneca discusses it like a father
confessor. So should Serenus attain tranquillity of
mind, that blessed state in which the soul has inward
peace, and exemption from all disquietude. Similar
relations often appear. Indeed it became the custom
to receive philosophers into the family as teachers, one
might almost say as confessors and chaplains, in order
to obtain from them counsel and guidance for the whole
ordering of life ; and how beautifully and admirably
they could talk about all possible virtues. The ethical
essays of Seneca, to mention only one of these philoso-
phers, have appeared so excellent to many persons in
later times that they have thought them explainable
only on the theory of a Christian influence, and the
story arose of a personal intercourse between the
philosopher and the Apostle Paul.^ But what are these
moral sermons ? Words, nothing but words. The same
Seneca who could discourse so finely upon the abstemi-
ousness and contentment of the philosopher, who on
all occasions paraded his contempt for earthly things as
94 FAITH AND MORALS. [book i.
nothingness and vanity, amassed, during the four years
of his greatest prosperity and power, a fortune of three
hundred millions of sesterces (over $15,000,000), and,
while writing a treatise on Poverty, had in his house
five hundred citrus tables, tables of veined wood brought
from Mount Atlas, which sometimes cost as much as
125,000, and even $70,000. The same Seneca who
preached so much about purity of morals was openly
accused of adultery with Julia and Agrippina, and led
his pupil Nero into still more shameful practices. He
wrote a work upon Clemency, yet had, beyond ques-
tion, a large part of Nero's atrocities upon his con-
science. It was he, too, who composed the letter in
which Nero justified before the Senate the murder of
his own mother. What was accomplished, then, by
such ethical homilies as Seneca's? Leaving entirely
out of account that it was not in the least his intention
to influence the mass of the people, what good did he
do to individuals? He put their minds into a state of
feverish excitement, induced habits of morbid intro-
spection, but such results contained no power of moral
renovation. That very Serenus whom he guided so
like a father confessor was unable to withstand the in-
fection of Nero's court ; he it was who brought about
Nero's amour with Acte. This period, as well as
others, affords a proof of the indissoluble connection
between faith and morals. Restricting the question to
the imperfect morality of Heathenism, we see even here,
\ that, when faith goes, morals perish with it. Not until
V we perceive the moral condition of the heathen world,
do we discover the depth and completeness of its decay.
Such a view, however, it is difficult to secure. I
might, indeed, simply refer to contemporary representa-
CHAP. II.] CONTEMPORARY DESCRIPTIONS. 95
tions which portray the state of morals. What a picture
it is ! Seneca says, "All things are full of iniquity and
vice. More crimes are committed than can be remedied
by force. A monstrous contest of wickedness is carried
on. Daily the lust of sin increases ; daily the sense of
shame diminishes. Casting away all regard for what
is good and honorable, pleasure runs riot without i^e-
straint. Vice no longer hides itself, it stalks forth be-
fore all -eyes. So public has iniquity become, so mightily
does it flame up in all hearts, that innocence is no
longer rare : it has ceased to exist." ^ Somewhat later
Lucian exclaims: "If any one loves wealth, and is
dazed by gold, if any one measures happiness by purple
and power, if any one brought up among flatterers and
slaves has never had a conception of liberty, frankness
and truth, if any one has wholly surrendered himself to
pleasures, full tables, carousals, lewdness, sorcery, false-
hood, and deceit, let him go to Rome ! " ^ Or, if we
would have in addition to these somewhat rhetorical
representations a sober and calm opinion, we may take
that of the historian Livy: "Rome has become great
by her virtues till now, when we can neither bear our
vices nor their remedies."^ But it may be replied:
These are general representations, which proceed from
pessimistic views, and from their very generality, are of
little value ; for it cannot be denied that they are not
universally applicable, and that with the darkness which
is all that is here recognized there was still some light.
Instead, then, of these general descriptions I might
give details, an anthology of the horrors committed in
that age. I might draw the portrait of a Messalina, or
relate how Nero murdered his brother, his wife, and his
own mother, how secretly plotting her death he first
96 FAITH AND MORALS. [book i.
spun about her a web of intrigues, and, when this failed,
used brutal violence, and himself sent the murderer to
plunge the sword into the body of her who had borne
him ; how he then with lies justified to the Senate what
had been done, and that assembly, transparent as were
these lies, in slavish subjection decreed new honors for
tl>e Emperor, and offered prayers of thanksgiving in
the temples of the gods ; how, greeted by the Senate,
and welcomed by the people arranged in tribes, with
their wives and children in festal attire, the matricide
entered Rome as a triumphator, I might describe the im-
perial frenzy of a Caligula, or the government of freed-
men under Claudius, and then say : This is the Age !
But with reason I should be answered, that in all ages
we meet with individual instances of deeds of horror,
and yet the error should not be committed of judging
a whole period b}^ such cases without further evidence.
I might, it is true, reply in turn, that such atrocious
crimes are but the summit of a pyramid whose broad
base is in the life of the nation, that shapes like Messa-
lina's are not to be encountered in every age, and that
an Emperor who murders his mother, a Senate which
decrees thanksgivings therefor, a people who go out to
meet the murderer as a triumphator^ do indeed presup-
pose, in order to the mere possibility of such occur-
rences, a universal and horrible decay of morals. And
yet I concede that there is no poorer way of character-
izing an age than that of sweeping all the dirt which
can be fouud into one heap. Though every detail may
be correct, the picture as a whole is false.
This much is clear. If we would obtain a tolerably
correct impression of those times we must neither be
content v»dth mere generalizations which from their
CHAP. II.] POSITION OF WOMAN IN GREECE. 97
very nature imply that there are exceptions, nor look
too exclusively at individual facts, since their signifi-
cance for the entire period can always be called in
question. The best course will be to go through the
different departments of life, and thus at last, from a
mass of details, compose for ourselves a comprehensive
picture.^
II. MARRIAGE AND FAMILY LIFE.
We begin with that relation which is fundamental to
all others, whose soundness, therefore, is a prerequisite
to the healthfulness of a nation's life, whose stability is
for this reason, the surest criterion of the moral charac-
ter of an age — with Marriage and Family Life.
The Japhetic nations received as their choicest in-
heritance, shame, chastity, and modesty. It was these
traits which distinguished them so definitely from the
descendants of Ham, and elevated them so high in
comparison. But they acted like the prodigal son.
They wasted their portion. First of all, the Greeks.
They too in their youth were not wanting in chastity
and modesty (recall Penelope), but as early as the
palmy days of Greece this treasure was already lost.
Almost all their great men — not merely so notorious a
libertine as AlcibiadesJ but even a Themistocles and a
Pericles — were impure. The female sex had a low
position in Greece, was shut out from education, and
took no part in any of the employments of men, in
public life, in the affairs of their country. Plato ^ rep-
resents a State as wholly disorganized, where slaves are
disobedient to their masters, and wives are on an equal-
ity with their husbands. Aristotle ^ expressly character-
izes women as beings of an inferior kind. Family life,
98 MARRIAGE AND FAMILY LIFE. [book i.
in the true meaning of the words, the Greek did not
know. He was at home as little as possible, and sought
happiness elsewhere than at his own hearth. " Is there
a human being," asks Socrates of one of his friends,
" with whom you talk less than with your wife ? " ^"
And Demosthenes ^^ says, without the least embarrass-
ment : " We have hetcerce for our pleasure, wives to
bear us children and to care for our households." So
the courtesan became the complement to the wife, and
it is easy to understand why there is such an almost
entire absence of noble women throughout the history
of Greece, and so great prominence given to the posi-
tion occupied by courtesans and the role which they
played in the national life. They frequented the lec-
ture-rooms of the philosophers, wrote books, and were on
terms of intercourse with prominent statesmen. Even
Socrates went to hear Aspasia.^'^ Famous men collected
their witty sayings, and wrote their histories. Aristo-
phanes of Byzantium mentiones one hundred and thirty-
five of these hetcerce^ Apollodorus a yet larger num-
ber.^^ They gave themselves also as models for images
of the gods. Phryne — the courtesan who promised the
Thebans to rebuild their walls if they would write on
them in golden letters: "Alexander destroyed them,
Phryne rebuilt them " — served Praxiteles as a model
for his renowned statue of the Cnidian Aphrodite.
Thus the Greeks lifted their hands to public prostitutes
when they prayed in their temples, and the extent of
this shamelessness is sufficiently shown by the fact that
this very Phryne, at the festival of Poseidon in Eleusis,
appeared as Aphrodite Anadyomene, and having laid
aside her garments and unloosed her hair, descended
into the sea before the eyes of applauding Greece.**
CHAP, n.] LOSS OF EARLY SIMPLICITY. 99
The Romans kept their inheritance much longer.
Their power was rooted in chastity, modesty, and the
strict morals of the earlier time. Nothing immodest
was tolerated. No nude images of the gods violated
the sense of shame. Marriage was considered sacred,
and children grew up under the watchful care of chaste
mothers in the simple relations of home. According to
Plutarch it was 230, according to others it was 520,
years before a divorce occurred in Rome.^^ The Romans
were acquainted with true family life. When work was
done they went home, and gladly remained in the bosom
of the family. A genial profligate like Alcibiades could
have gained no foothold in Rome, an Aspasia or Phryne
could have played no part.
It was otherwise when, with Greek culture, Greek
frivolity as well entered Rome, when the riches of the
conquered world flowed thither, and the luxury of the
Empire took the place of republican simplicity. The
ancient simple domesticity disappeared. Chastity and
modesty perished. Luxury in dress came into vogue,
and with it a finicalness and unnaturalness such as per-
haps have never since been equalled. A fashionable Ro-
man lady protected her complexion with a fine artificial
paste, which she laid at night on her face, and then
bathed in ass's milk. Of artificial washes, sweet-
smelling oils, salves, perfumeries, pigments, there was
no end. Female slaves thoroughly skilled in all the
arts of the toilet stood at her beck, and often, while
dressing her, were roughly and cruelly treated, being
pricked with long needles, or beaten. For each separ-
ate pigment a particular slave was appointed who had
been perfectly trained to color the eyebrows black, or
the cheeks red. The hair was dressed in the most arti-
100 MARRIAGE AND FAMILY LIFE. [book i.
ficial way, dyed, or entirely cut off and rep acecl by
false hair. Auburn hair was specially prized in the
first period of the Emperors. The dealers could not
procure enough of it from Germany. What magnifi-
cence, what changes of apparel, what wealth of gold,
pearls, and precious stones, ear-rings, and bracelets !
Lollia Paulina, the spouse of Caligula, wore at a mar-
riage festival a set of emeralds which she was prepared
to prove by documents was worth forty millions of
sesterces ($2,000,000).^^ The famous necklace of Queen
Marie Antoinette, which in the French Revolution
became so fatal, cost but 1,600,000 francs, not one-sixth
as much. They wear two or three estates suspended
from their ears, says Seneca.^*^
Naturally there was a desire to display such orna-
ments. In earlier days a Roman wife remained at
home, seldom allowed herself to be seen on the streets,
and then only when veiled, or in a closed chair. Now,
the motto was, as TertuUian says : " See, and be
seen." ^^ In their walks, at the theatre, the circus, and
at entertainments, they exhibited themselves and their
finery. Those who did not own what was necessary to
such a show could hire clothes, jewels, a sedan-chair,
cushions, even an old waiting-woman or a fair-haired
lady's maid, for a day at the theatre or circus.^^ How
demoralizing this must have been is obvious; all the
more so because the performances in the theatre were
thoroughly immoral, and everywhere at social entertain-
ments mythological paintings on the walls, tables and
utensils for food, representations of naked forms, pic-
tures often positively immodest, surrounded the guests
— to say nothing of the dances, shows, music and songs.^^
The result was that domestic chastity and morality
CHAP. II.] DE€AY OF MARRIAGE. 101
almost wholly disappeared. Conceding that the repre-
sentations of the satirists, of Juvenal and Persius, may
be exaggerations, that much of what we read in Horace,
and especially in Ovid, may be poetical embellishment,
enough remains to warrant this conclusion. Marriages
now were effected as easily as they were dissolved.
Inclination was not taken into account. For a man,
marriage was a financi-al transaction, for a maiden the
longed-for means of escape from the narrow limits of
the nursery (for usually the transition was almost
immediate from the nursery to married life), and of
becoming free. " There are women who count their
years not by the number of Consuls, but by the number
of their husbands," ^^ says Seneca. '' They allow them-
selves to be divorced," mocks Juvenal, "before the
nuptial garlands have faded ; " -^ and TertuUian :
" They marry only to be divorced." ^^ Friends ex-
changed wives, and it was not considered in the least
dishonorable to employ the name of friendship for the
purpose of seducing a friend's wife. Seneca goes so far as
to affirm that marriage is only contracted because adul-
tery affords a new and piquant charm.-'' Matrimonial
fidelity was made a subject of ridicule. " Whoever has
no love affairs is despised," affirms the same Seneca.-^
Not only did the theatre and the circus offer opportu-
nities for beginning and continuing amorous intrigues,
the temples were not too holy nor the brothels too foul
for them.^^ It came to pass (a more horrible symptom
of demoralization can scarcely be imagined), that ladies
of high birth had themselves enrolled in the police
register of common prostitutes in order that they might
abandon themselves entirely to the most wanton
excesses. So frequently did this scandal occur that it
102 MARRIAGE AND FAMILY LIFE. [book i.
became necessary to pass laws against it. The blessing
of children was only a burden. Infanticide, and a yet
more shameful practice, were not regarded as crimes,
for according to heathen ideas the father had absolute
power over his children.^^ Household employments
were despised, and the children, as they grew larger,
were left to the care of the slaves. Mothers were
more concerned about their toilets, or what flute or
cithara player would receive the crown in the next con-
test, what horse would win at the next race, what
athlete or gladiator would come off victorious in the
amphitheatre, than they were about the education of
their children.^^
As a matter of course marriage itself fell of necessity
into deeper and deeper contempt. Who would marry
merely for the sake of supplying a disobedient wife with
means for extravagance? The men, too, preferred the
freedom of single life. To such a degree did celibacy
and childlessness prevail, that the State deemed it
necessary to interfere. As early as Augustus laws
were enacted imposing fines and increased taxes on
those persons who remained unmarried beyond a cer-
tain age. These were at first opposed in the Senate,
and the insubordination of women was pleaded as a
reason for this aversion to marriage. Later still the
laws were again and again renewed and made more
severe, yet without removing the deep-seated evil.
Many preferred to accept the penalties decreed against
the unmarried, and the childless. A single life was
wholly unrestricted ; childlessness had its advantages.
An unmarried man had something to devise, and was
flattered and honored with all sorts of attention by
those who counted on being remembered in his will.
CHAP. II.] LEGACY HUNTING. 103
Legacy hunting had become an established evil in the
first period of the Empire, and was so much a matter
of course, so little perceived to be contemptible, that
Seneca, for example, in a letter of condolence to a
mother upon the loss of her only son, does not hesitate
to remind her, by way of special consolation, that she
will now, as a childless widow, be so much the more
honored and beloved by such as hope for an inherit-
ance.^^
It would be unseemly to lift the veil from the sins of
impurity of which the heathen world was full. " God
gave them up to uncleanness, through the lusts of their
own hearts, to dishonor their own bodies between them-
selves," writes St. Paul (Rom. i. 24) ; and for every
line of the frightfully dark picture which he there
sketches, proofs can easily be adduced. In shapes like
Nero's, we can clearly perceive how thirst for blood
went hand in hand with sensuality ; and in the orgies
of the age, as for instance in the great festivals which
the prefect Tigellinus gave on an artificial island in
the lake of Agrippa, the shamelessness was so conspicu-
ous that the wildest carousals of later times do not offer
even a resemblance. We know not which is the more
shocking, the effrontery with which sensuality came
forth, or the cunning with which it sought what was
more and more unnatural. Even the temples promoted
lewdness, the priestesses were prostitutes, and, shame-
ful to relate, this was esteemed and practised by the
heathen as a part of religious worship.^*^
There were doubtless many exceptions. Even if the
epitaphs did not prove it, we should assume that there
were still good housewives and faithful marriages,
especially among the middle classes, even while the
104 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
higher orders were much more deeply corrupted. Not
infrequently is to be read on some grave-stone erected
by a husband to his wife : " She never caused me a
pang but by her death," ^^ and the praise of domesticity,
of piety, of chastity, is often expressed. Yet this much
is certain, that married and domestic life were widely
corrupted and destroyed, and a lawlessness and disso-
luteness prevailed which far exceeded even the worst
which is presented by our large cities of to-day. Nobler
souls felt this. With what earnestness did Tacitus
hold up as an example to his contemporaries the puritj^
and modesty of German women. Effort after effort
was made to repress the evil, but the stream of cor-
ruption spread wider and wider. Indeed it was favored
by all the conditions of the age. The world was con-
quered, what had been won was now to be enjoyed.
For a century and longer, pleasure was the motto with
high and low, and greater seriousness did not return
until the time of enjoyment was past, and the increasing
need, the deepening misery, toward the end of the
second, and during the third century had inclined the
world to become more earnest again.
ni. LABOR AND LUXURY.
Enormous wealth flowed from the conquered prov-
inces to Rome, and immense sums were continually
collected from the provinces even after the imj^erial
government had introduced a stricter management of
the. finances. Especially when the treasures Avhich for
centuries had been accumulating in the East fell to
the victors the influx of gold was such as before had
never been thought of as possible. From the temple
in Jerusalem alone Crassus plundered 10,000 talents
CHAP. II.] ROMAN WEALTH. CONTEMPT OF LABOR. 105
(|11,316,600).32 ^g Proconsul of Syria Gabinius ex-
acted one hundred millions of denarii (116,839,360).^^
From Ptolemy Auletes the same Gabinius took away
10,000 talents after Csesar had already taken 6,000, in
all, therefore, about eighteen millions of dollars.*^ The
other provinces, Spain, Gaul, also contributed largely.
Quintus Servilius Csepio alone carried off from the
Tectosagan city Tolosa 15,000 talents ($16,974,900).35
Wealth is not merely hazardous to the individual, it
is also dangerous to a nation, doubly dangerous when
it pours in suddenly, as in Rome, and has not been
gradually acquired as the fruit of labor. In Rome it
resulted in the ruin of the middle class, the accumula-
tion of colossal wealth in the hands of a few, the im-
poverishment of the masses, and finally in unrestrained
luxury and voluptuousness.
Antiquity had no knowledge of a middle class such
as modern times are acquainted with, for labor, the
basis of a sound middle class, was not regarded as hon-
orable but as a disgrace. Plato ^^ deemed it right to
despise men whose employment did not permit them to
devote themselves to their friends and to the State.
According to Aristotle,^^ all forms of labor which re-
quire physical strength are degrading to a freeman.
Nature has created for such purposes a special class ;
they are those whom we reduce to bondage that they
may work for us as slaves or day-laborers. In Athens
we can plainly trace the process by which the middle
class was obliterated by slavery. In the earlier period
of its history Athens had such a class composed of free
laborers, but this was unable, when wealth increased,
to maintain itself against the combination of capital
and labor. The capitalists owned sfreat factories in
106 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
which the foremen as well as the operatives were slaves.
Nothing was left to the free laborer but to work side
by side with slaves in the factory, or to remain idle and
depend on the State for support. Thus instead of a
people living, as Solon intended, by labor, and treating
labor with respect, there was a people prone to idleness,
corrupted by contact with slaves, and involved in all
the vices of Athenian life.
The course of things in Rome was similar. There,
too, labor fell more and more into disgrace. There all
work by which money is earned was despised as an
ignoble bondage. Medicine, architecture and commerce
were alone excepted as honorable employments for a
freeman. "The mechanic's occupation is degrading.
A work-shop is incompatible with any thing noble." ^^
Again we see the curse of slavery. Where it exists
free labor cannot be respected, nor a middle class arise
consisting of free laborers.
In the country Italy had formerly possessed such a
class in the free peasants who industriously tilled the
arable land on small farms such as the soil of Italy
requires for its cultivation. This free peasant class
which formed the kernel of the legions had been an-
nihilated by the civil wars. More than once the dis-
banded legions of the conqueror were rewarded with
landed property in Italy. Sulla had distributed among
twenty-three legions such 'tiiunicipia as had shown
themselves hostile to him. The soldiers entered tri-
umphantly into Florence, Prseneste, and other places
appointed for them, drove away the inhabitants, and
took possession of houses and lands. Octavian had
treated thirty-four legions in the same way. The old
soldiers seldom became industrious farmers. What had
CHAP II.] RUIN OF THE MIDDLE CLASS. 107
been easily won was easily squandered. Speculators
bought up the farms. The Roman magnates, who had
acquired wealth in the East, or in Gaul, invested in
them their capital. Thus arose great latifimdia, im-
mense estates, often miles square. These could be
worked more profitably with slaves than with free
laborers. The slave therefore everywhere drove out
the free laborer. Only in regions the most remote,
where slaves could not be controlled, and under hard
conditions, did the freeman, as vilUcus, maintain his
position. At most he received one-fifth of the prod-
uce.^^ Or he was allowed a chance where the country
was unhealthy and capitalists hesitated to take the
costly risks involved in slaves. In consequence of the
size of the landed property and the poor quality of
the labor (a slave is always a bad and dear workman)
the cultivation of the soil ceased to be profitable, and
gave place to the raising of cattle, which required less
labor, and offered a more sure reward. Where once
luxuriant corn-fields waved and gardens stood full of
delicious fruit, nothing ould now be seen for miles but
a barren heath grazed by cattle. Where in earlier times
numerous villages, in the midst of well-cultivated fields
and gardens, had delighted the eye, stood now, at great
distances apart, the er^gastula^ prison-like dwellings,
which concealed hundreds of miserable slaves. The
two maxims then often heard : " A purchased laborer
is better than a hired one," and: "Grazing is more
lucrative than farming," ^^ mark the steps in the progress
of deterioration.
As the flat country became depopulated the large
cities became crowded. Those who could no longer
maintain themselves in the country flocked into the
108 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
cities, especially into Rome. And what a population
was there crowded together ! We do not know with
entire accuracy the number of inhabitants of Rome at
the beginning of the Empire .^^ Some estimate it at
one and a half, others, for instance Hoeck, at two
millions and upwards. Of these perhaps only about
10,000 belonged to the higher orders, senators and
knights ; then, according to Hoeck, there were one mil-
lion of slaves, and about 50,000 foreigners ; the remain-
der constituted the Plehs urhana^ who were absolutely
destitute. Of service for hire there was little in Rome.
For even here the free laborer had to come into compe-
tition with the slave, and here, too, the latter took away
his work. What the rich needed in their homes was
produced for them by their many slaves. Even large
buildings were erected by slaves in the employ of con-
tractors. Craftsmen thus had but few customers. The
only other opportunities for earning money were those
afforded by positions as inferior attendants upon the
magistrates, as servants in the colleges of priests and
assistants at funerals. There v/as no real middle class.
Many sought their living as clients at the houses of the
great, a living scanty enough, and little better than
slavery. From early in the morning till late in the
evening, whether it was hot or whether it snowed, the
clients were obliged to be ready in their togas for ser-
vice to their patron, waiting upon him in the house,
and accompanying him by the way. For such attend-
ance they received from him a gift, and were invited
on festival occasions to his house that they might help
swell the pomp. In other respects they were often
subjected to most shameful and degrading treatment
even from the freedmen and slaves of their lord. The
CHAP. II.] DISTRIBUTION OF CORN. 109
great mass of the people lived in almost complete idle-
ness and were supported by the State.
Even in earlier times corn was delivered to Roman
citizens at a moderate price. In the year of the city
695 Claudius carried through a law which provided for
its gratuitous distribution. During the Civil Wars the
number of receivers of corn increased considerably,
since every ruler naturally courted the favor of the
people. In Csesar's time this number rose to 320,000.
Afterwards, through the sending away of colonies of
the poor, it was reduced to 130,000, under Augustus to
100,000, but it alwaj^s increased again. Inquiry was
made into the need, but no attention was paid to morals
and conduct. " The thief," says Seneca,^^ " as well as
the perjurer and the adulterer receives the public corn ;
every one, irrespective of morals, is a citizen." On an
appointed day of the month each person enrolled in
the lists received the tessera frumentalis^ a check for
five bushels of wheat. This amount was then measured
out in the magazines to every one who brought and
showed the tessera. For this reason the checks were
often sold, especially as the measure was so large that
it was more than enough for one person. In addition
to this gift of corn, largesses in money {congiaria^ were
distributed. These were either alms v/hich were dis-
pensed solely for the benefit of the recipients of grain,
or they were presents which were bestowed upon all,
down even to the boys ; as, for instance, in the years
of the city 725, 730, 742, when every one received 400
sesterces (about twenty dollars). Each congiarium of
this sort cost the State 250,000,000 sesterces, about
112,500,000.
Such munificence the world has never again wit-
110 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
nessed, but we do well to reflect that it was not benevo-
lence. Not man, but the Roman citizen was taken into
consideration ; not the needy, but strong men, able to
work, received the gift ; not the individual, but the
State was the giver ; not love, but justice was the
criterion. The congiarium was, after all, but each Ro-
man citizen's share in the spoil of a conquered world,
a premium which the rich out of fear paid to idleness.
Hence what was received only increased the demand. In
the days of Augustus the people clamored for wine in ad-
dition to corn. The Emperor replied : " The provision
made by aqueducts is so ample that no one need thirst." ^^
Later Emperors were obliged to do more. Septimius
Severus caused oil to be distributed. Aurelian, at his
triumph, gave bread. This remained the rule when
the people demanded it. The Emperor would even
have given wine. When the prsetorian prefect remon-
strated : " If we grant the people wine, we must also
serve out to them chickens and geese," he desisted, but
took care that wine should be furnished to the people
at cheaper prices.^ Such a system of largesses could
only work demoralizingly. Love elevates the poor
man, such gifts degrade him. Christianity first intro-
duced true benevolence, and as it has ennobled labor so
it has also honored innocent poverty.
Whilst the mass of the people lived by alms, the few
who possessed wealth revelled in unheard of luxury.
Down to the time of Augustus, Rome, compared with
what it afterwards became, had been rather a poor city.
Augustus could boast that instead of the city of brick
which he found he had left one of marble. Not only
public buildings, but also private dwellings show from
this date an incomparable magnificence. A residence
CHAP. 'II.] LUXURY OF THE RICH. Ill
which with its appurtenances (gardens, etc.) embraced
four acres, was considered small. What a splendid
spectacle was offered by the atria with their lofty pil-
lars, for which the most costly stones were collected
from the whole world. Beams of Hymettian marble
rested on pillars from Africa ; the walls were formed
of costly slabs of variegated marble, or alabaster
bordered with green serpentine, brought from distant
Egypt, or from the Black Sea. The arches glistened
with mosaics of glass, the floors were artistically tessel-
lated. In the intervening spaces were green shrub-
beries and plashing fountains, while high above, for
protection from the sun, a crimson awning stretched
from one pillared roof to another, suffusing the mosaic
floor and the mossy carpet with a rosy shimmer.
All this was surpassed by Nero's Golden House,
which was like a city in size. Its colonnades were
each a mile long. In its vestibule stood a colossal
statue of the Emperor 120 feet high. The other di-
mensions of the palace were on the same scale. It em-
braced fields and gardens, meadows and forests, and
even a lake. The halls and saloons were overlaid with
gold, and adorned with precious stones and mother-of-
pearl, or with glass mirrors which reflected to the be-
holder his entire figure. Smaller apartments had walls
which were completely covered with pearls. The ban-
queting-rooms were decorated Y;^ith special magnificence,
and the baths afforded the rarest luxury. The banquet-
ing-rooms had gilded, carved, and painted ceilings which
were changed to suit the various courses of the meal, and
so constructed that flowers and perfumes could be scat-
tered upon the guests. Water from the sea, as well as
sulphurated water from the springs of the Tiber, was
112 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
conducted to the baths through magnificent conduits,
and flowed from gold and silver faucets into basins of
variegated marble, so that it looked now red, now green,
now white. " Now I am lodged as a man should be,"
said Nero when he took possession of it.*^ Otho granted
three millions for an enlargement of this palace, and
yet Vitellius found it still unworthy of an Emperor.
Naturally these extensive houses rendered building
sites extraordinarily dear, and there was as little room
in Rome for the poor as there is now in our large cities.
Under Nero a law was passed which forbade the pur-
chase of houses for the sake of pulling them down and
speculating with the sites.
Beside his city residence a wealthy Roman had a
number of country houses in the mountains or by the
sea, in Southern Italy or in the North. For miles
away stretched the most magnificent parks, such as
only a strongly developed taste for natural beauty,
with enormous means at command, could create. If
one had seen in his travels a landscape which seemed to
him specially beautiful, he sought to imitate it, or found
satisfaction in producing one under circumstances and
in places Avhere every preliminary condition was want-
ing. Where the sea had been, he made land, and laid
out a villa on it, merely for the sake of being able to
say that he had wrested it from the waters ; or he had
earth brought at an enormous expense and spread upon
naked rocks in order to plant there a garden or a grove.
Nature and art, wealth and taste, were combined to
insure, in a land whose climate is enchantingly beau-
tiful, an enviable existence for the rich. That these
great villas drove the poorer class away from land and
soil, withdrew the fields from the culture of corn, wine
CHAP. II.] PUBLIC BUILDINGS AND WORKS. 113
and fruit, products to which they were naturally
adapted, and so helped increase the proletariat^ what did
the rich care for this ?
Consider first the public buildings ! A real frenzy
for architecture ruled the age, and when pure art was
declining men strove to supply the lack of genuine
artistic perfection by colossal size and excessive decora-
tion. We can scarcely imagine now the magnificence
and splendor of a city like Rome. The most beautiful
and wealthy capitals of modern times are far inferior to
it. In comparison with such a profusion of works of
art, of palaces and temples, of theatres and baths, of
triumphal arches and statues numbered by thousands,
they appear actually poor. And when we remember
the many other large cities, some of which like Anti-
och and Alexandria, for instance, rivalled Rome, when
we recall even smaller cities like Pompeii which a
favorable fortune has preserved for us, we see every-
where such wealth of artistic decoration, and, apart
from occasional defects of taste, such unvarying pleas-
a^ntness, such cleanliness and neatness, that we find
here continually our models. If we then represent to
ourselves only approximately the grandeur of the
public works, the bridges, streets, aqueducts, through-
out the entire Empire, whose ruins in Africa and in the
Eifel, in France and in Syria, still excite our admira-
tion, the picture as a whole is indeed astonishing, and
we obtain some idea of the power still resident in that
imperial Rome to whom most of these works owed their
origin.
The interior of the dwellings presented nothing of
what we now call comfort, but, all the more, wealth
and sumptuousness. Even here it is apparent, that the
114 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
life of the ancient world was directed to what is exter-
nal, not to what is within. We seek above all else in
a dwelling an agreeable and comfortable home; the
ancient world inclined everywhere, even in the house,
to show. The occupant of a mansion desired most of
all to make a brilliant display of his wealth and his
importance. The rooms compared with ours were
empty, containing, instead of a large amount of furni-
ture for daily use, only a few articles which were so
much the more superb and costly, — expensive tables
with covers of citrus wood and resting on ivory feet,
couches inlaid with gold and silver and covered with
Babylonian tapestry, splendid vases of Corinthian
bronze, or the somewhat enigmatical Murrha, vessels of
which were worth 17,500 and even 137,500, ^ginetan
candelabra, sideboards with antique silver plate, and
statues and paintings by renowned artists. Every
thing, even down to the common household utensils,
was, in an incomparably higher degree than with us,
artistically formed and finished.
Then the life in these magnificent houses! Inordi-
nate longing for enjoyment, effeminacy and voluptuous-
ness, reigned supreme. Numerous slaves stood waiting
the nod of their master, ready to render all kinds of
service in order to relieve him of the slightest trouble.
There were even some slaves who knew by heart Homer
or Virgil, and standing behind the chair of their mas-
ter whispered in his ear a citation from the classic poets
whenever he deemed it appropriate to introduce such a
passage into the conversation. Earnest labor was not
thought of, at most only a dilettante occupation with
the fine arts. Apart from this, life was one prolonged
revel. Entertainments and feasts chased one another,
CHAP. 11.] EXTRAVAGANCE AND VOLUPTUOUSNESS. 115
each in turn more recherche than the preceding. The
means of enjoyment were gathered from every quarter
of the globe, and the more rare and costly they were
the more highly were they prized. Men out-vied each
other in the art of squandering at a single meal hun-
dreds of thousands, until the Emperor Vitellius ex-
ceeded all by running through, in the few months of
his reign, one hundred and fifty millions. That the
pleasure of eating might be prolonged emetics were
made use of. ^' They vomit to eat, and eat to vomit,"
says Seneca, " and do not deign to digest the feasts col-
lected from all parts of the world." ^^ What extrava-
gance in yet other respects was committed at these ban-
quets ! Thousands were expended in a single day for
flowers — roses and violets in the middle of winter —
which were showered upon the guests, for ointments
and fragrant waters. In every thing there was exag-
geration even to unnaturalness, and often our belief is
taxed as though we were in an enchanted castle, where,
as fairy-tales relate, every thing is of silver and gold.
As, for instance, when we hear that Poppsea Sabina, the
wife of Nero, took with lier on a journey five hundred
asses in order that cosmetic baths might be prepared
for her from their milk, and that these animals had
gold and silver shoes, and that her husband, when he
amused himself with fishing, used nets interwoven with
threads of gold.
Only an age utterly wanting in earnestness, destitute
of any high purpose or endeavor, and wholly aban-
doned* to sensual enjoyment, could have fallen into
such practices. And, conversely, this life of pleasure
must have proved increasingly destructive to morals.
" Through dissipation." complains a contemporary,
116 LABOR AND LUXURY. [book i.
"the minds of indolent youth have become sluggish,
and no one rouses himself to the trouble and toil of an
honorable employment. Sleep and lassitude, and what
is worse than both, zeal in wrong-doing, have taken
possession of them. The disgraceful pursuit of song
and dance makes them effeminate ; their darling passion
is to curl their hair, to weaken their voices to feminine
accents of flattery, to vie with women in pampering
the body, to excel in the foulest vices. Who of your
contemporaries is full of spirit? Who is full of desire
for knowledge ? Who is even a man ? " This was the
race as Pliny and the physician Galen, in this matter a
competent witness, depict it for us, " with pale faces,
flabby cheeks, swollen eyes, trembling hands, enfeebled
understanding, and ruined memory."*^ These were
the people who, morally rotten, completely enervated,
cringed before the Emperor in the Senate and answered
every kick with new and studied flatteries, these aristo-
crats who boasted of their proud old names and their
wealth, and yet in Nero's presence were mere slaves, or
at most, in company with shameless women, plotted
conspiracies which they could not find courage to carry
out, even in death dastards or profligates.
How dull, how stale, life seemed to all this blase race.
Intoxicated with pleasure and sensual enjoyment, able
to gratify every whim however absurd, they were
nevertheless thoroughly discontented, and sought in
vain by ever new devices to impart fresh zest to exist-
ence. Life, in the time of the Emperors, was utterly
tedious and uninteresting. There were no elevating
influences. Interest in public affairs had died out
from the time that the Emperor alone ruled the world
according to his own caprices, or, as might happen,
CHAi'. 11.] FRIVOLITY. 117
allowed it to be ruled by women or valets de chambre.
Religious life bad disappeared. Pbilosopby bad degen-
erated into a vain display of mere words. Between an
inordinately wealthy aristocracy and a populace accus-
tomed to be fed by its lords, there was no opportunity
for creative, progressive labor.
In the absence of serious occupation life became
filled with mere frivolities. Men ceased to work. The
obligations of society and politeness assumed a ridicu-
lous importance. " It is astonishing," Pliny writes in
one of his letters,^^ "how time is passed in Rome.
Take any day by itself and it either is, or seems to be,
well spent: yet review many days together and you
will be surprised to discover how unprofitable they
have been. Ask any one : What have you done to-day?
He will tell you : I was at a friend's who gave his son
the toga virilis ; another requested me to be a witness
to his will ; a third asked me to a consultation. All of
these things appear at the time extremely necessary.
But when we reflect that day after day has been thus
spent, such employments seem trifling." Where life
was not passed in frivolity and dissipation the most
important occupations were writing, reading to others
what had been written, hearing lectures, composing
poems, and admiring those produced by others. " Dur-
ing the whole month of April," Pliny ^^ relates, " there
was scarcely a day in which some one did not recite a
poem." "We suffer from a superfluity of sciences,"
Seneca had already remarked.^*^ Instead of going to
the Forum, or elsewhere, to important business, one
went to hear some rhetorician declaim about morality,
or to the baths — the clubs of that day — to talk about
every thing and nothing. Or one was invited by a
118 LABOR ANB LUXURY. [book i.
friend to hear some history or poem. They declaimed
through life. The sense for true beauty became more
and more impaired. If a poet or rhetorician succeeded
in successfully imitating the works of the ancients, he
received the highest applause.
A striking proof of the spiritual condition of many
persons at that time is afforded by the beginning of
Seneca's treatise " On Tranquillity of Mind." Serenus,
the captain of the watch, already referred to, had dis-
closed to Seneca the state of his soul, and begged him
to name the evil from which he was suffering. Seneca's
reply describes what the outlook then was for many
persons. It is an indescribable medley of energy and
weakness, of ambition and impotence, a rapid succes-
sion of undefined hopes and groundless discourage-
ments, a consuming ennui, an utter disgust with self,
which allows no place of rest and finally renders every
thing odious. The world seems monotonous, life uni-
form, pleasures fatigue, the least efforts exhaust, and
this vague sadness becomes at last so heavy a burden
that one contemplates escaping from it by death.^^
I gladly acknowledge that the description I have
given of the moral life of that age needs qualification
on this side, or on that ; that there were, beyond ques-
tion, sounder and nobler elements ; that, by comparison
with other times which offer similar phenomena, much
can be set in a milder light ; and yet, after all such
allowances are made, one thing must at any rate be
admitted, of which all these details are only a symptom,
and which itself is the most unerring symptom of the
degradation of the old world : the -exhaustion from life
of every lofty purpose.
CHAP, ii.j PASSION FOR GAMES. 119
rV. PUBLIC GAMES.
This appears pre-eminently in the wide-spread pas-
sion among the higher classes for personally taking
part in the theatre, the circus, the chariot-races, and
the gladiatorial sports. Nero led the way in this by his
example. Prouder than any triumphator he entered
Rome with eighteen hundred and eight victors' wreaths
which he had won in the Grecian games, and hung
them on the obelisk in the Circus Maximus even while
the Nemesis of his bloody deeds was already knock-
ing at the gates. So general did this inclination become
that more earnest Emperors endeavored to restrain it
by legislation. It can be explained only by the crav-
ing for new and more powerful stimulants. Satiated
with all possible enjoyments, people sought in the cir-
cus, and in the arena, for an excitement they no longer
found elsewhere, and, grown indifferent to every thing,
staked in the gladiatorial games a life which had ceased
to have for them any value. In general the absorbing
interest of this age in all sorts of spectacles was in the
highest degree characteristic, and it is worth while to
contemplate it somewhat more closely from this point
of view, since, in this way, a profound insight can be
obtained into the morality of that time, as well as of all
antiquity.
Spectacles (taking the word at first in the broadest
sense) had for ancient life generally a higher impor-
tance than for modern. Here, again, that tendency of
the former to externals which has been already repeat-
edly noticed may be seen in its delight in artistic rep-
resentation, and, consequently, in public parades and
displays of all sorts. This is apparent even in public
120 PUBLIC GAMES. [book i.
worship. The whole cultus had a theatrical tendency ;
processions constituted a large part of it. What an
important place did the theatre occupy in the popular
life of the Greeks. In this domain lie in part the high-
est achievements of Greek genius, in the dramas of an
^schylus, Sophocles and Euripides. To be sure, the
day when such creations of genius were rejoiced in was
long gone by. The tall figures in the cothurn and with
the mask, with solemn step and solemn speech, had dis-
appeared from the boards. The Greeks of that time, to
say nothing of the Romans, would have found no pleas-
ure in the QEdipus, nor in the Antigone. The later
comedy continued longest in favor, at least the fine-
ness of the acting proved attractive. Buffoonery and
pantomimes became popular. The Attellana, a sort of
Punchinello comedy with grotesque drollery and coarse
jokes, the 3Iimus, a loosely connected representation of
characters in common life, with jesters and much stage
art, with rich decorations and astonishing scene shift-
ings, were now the favorite amusements. The lofty
deeds of heroes were no longer held up for imitation,
nor were the follies of the time derided ; the adventures
of deceived husbands, adulteries and amorous intrigues
formed the staple of the plots. Virtue was made a
mock of, and the gods scoffed at; every thing sacred
and worthy of veneration was dragged in the mire. In
obscenity, unveiled and unambiguous, in impure
speeches and exhibitions which outraged the sense of
shame, these spectacles exceeded all besides. Ballet
dancers threw away their dresses and danced half
naked, and even wholly naked, on the stage. Art was
left out of account, every thing was designed for mere
sensual gratification.
OSAP. It] THEATBE, CIRCUS. 121
Apart from such exhibitions the theatre proper was
decidedly out of favor. The popular taste inclined
chiefly to the amusements of the circus and amphithea-
tre. These festivals, of religious origin and still con-
nected with religious ceremonies, had acquired in the
time of the Emperors a political significance. Those
in power found it to be strongly for their interest to
keep the people busy and diverted. Bread and Games !
was the demand, and so long as Rome had enough to
eat and was amused, the Emperor had little to fear.
Hence the great watchfulness respecting the supply of
corn, hence the pains taken to provide at so enormous
an expense for games. The more political life decayed,
the greater the place occupied by sports. The Empe-
rors, therefore, good and bad without distinction, ex-
pended on them immense sums. The most economical
felt obliged to have money for them, and the most
inflexible and simple had to yield in this matter to the
pleasure of the people.
In the times of the Republic games were observed
within moderate limits. As early as Augustus they
were celebrated for sixty-six days ; under Marcus Aure-
lius the number had increased to one hundred and
thirty-five. Besides these there were extraordinary
festivals. Titus gave the people, at the dedication of
the Flavian Amphitheatre, a festival which lasted a
hundred days; Trajan, on the occasion of his Dacian
triumph, one of one hundred and twenty-three daj^s.
So it was in Rome, where, to be sure, every thing was
carried to extremes. Yet ther^ Avere not wanting
games in the provinces, although in a more moderate
degree, as is proved by the ruins of numerous, and
often colossal, amphitheatres in all parts of the Roman
122 PUBLIC GAMES. [book i.
Empire. Even in Palestine King Agrippa, to the hor-
ror of the Jews, caused a circus to be built, and his
race horses are said to have contended for the stakes
with the Roman. On the walls of Pompeii we see
to-day the posters in which the holding of games was
announced. It belonged to the most burdensome and
pressing duties of municipal officers even in the
medium-sized cities to provide games at their own
expense, and we know accidentally of a gladiatorial
show in an Italian city of middle rank at the beginning
of the Empire, which lasted three days, and cost
20,880 dollars.
Often the people were feasted at the games, and
entire days were appointed for magnificent banquetings.
Slaves of the Emperor carried around viands and wine
on broad platters and in large baskets. All the people,
men, women and children, senators and knights, the
court and the Emperor himself, ate at great tables in
the broad public places of Rome. Or figs, dates, nuts
and cakes were thrown among the people, — it rained
roasted fowls and pheasants. Lottery tickets were
distributed entitling to smaller or larger prizes, per-
chance articles of clothing or household furniture, gold
and silver, houses too, and landed estates. Whoever
had luck could become rich in a day. The people
thronged to these games. Not unfrequently lives were
lost in the crowd.
The greatest enthusiasm was felt for the chariot
races in the Circus ; there the passions were most fear-
fully excited. Which of the four parties designated
by the colors worn by horses and drivers would win at
the next race, whether the red or the green, the blue or
the white, was a question which occupied Rome for
CHAP. II.] CHARIOT RACES. 123
days in advance. Wagers were often concluded for
hundreds of thousands, for entire estates. Sacrifices
were offered, soothsayers questioned, even magical arts
employed, in order to obtain the victory for the favorite
party. "Does the green lose," says Juvenal, "then is
Rome struck aghast as after the defeat at Cannae." ^^
"Whether a Nero governed the Empire or a Marcus
Aurelius," writes Friedlander, from whose representa-
tions of Roman life I borrow much, "whether the
Empire was at peace or aflame with civil war, or the
barbarians stormed at the frontiers, in Rome the ques-
tion of chief moment for freemen and slaves, for sen-
ators, knights and people, for men and women, was
whether the blue would win or the green."
Already on the night before the people streamed into
the Circus in order to secure seats, for, immense as was
the number of places provided, it was yet difficult to
obtain one. In Csesar's time the Circus had 150,000
seats ; Titus added 100,000 more ; finally there were
385,000.53
A religious service introduced the sports. From the
Capitol, to the sound of trumpets and flutes, advanced
a great procession, led by the magistrate who gave the
games standing on a chariot as a triumphator, followed
by images of the gods and emperors borne on litters
and accompanied by the colleges of priests in full dress.
Then the whole 2?07npa diabolic as Tertullian says, en-
tered the Circus through the chief gate and moved
with stately slowness over the course, the spectators
rising to their feet and receiving it with jubilant cheer-
ing and clapping of hands. All eyes now turn in
breathless suspense to the balcony from which the
Prsetor lets fall the signal for beginning the race. The
124 PUBLIC GAMES. [book i.
white clotli flutters toward the course. Misit! misit !
he has thrown it, calls one to the other, and as the
rope which had hitherto closed the track is cast off, as
the chariots burst forth and veiled in dust speed over
the course, as now this now that faction has an advan-
tage, and is applauded accordingly by its partisans
among the spectators, spurred on v\^ith cheers, or loaded
with curses, as the chariots often dash in pieces on the
turning-post and horses and drivers roll on the ground
in a confused heap, the excitement increases every
moment even to frenzy and vents itself in infuriated
roaring. At length the victor reaches the goal and is
greeted with thunders of applause. Ribbons, favors,
garlands fly to him. Before the seat of the Emperor
he receives the prize-purse, filled with gold, and the
palm branch, and amid the shouts of the people passes
slowly along the course to the porta triumphalis. The
race is ended, but only to be soon followed by another.
Often there were twenty-four in succession with merely
a short pause at noon. Even then many persons did
not go home ; they ate in the Circus and kept their
places until evening brought the show to an end.
Another sort of spectacles was furnished by the
Amphitheatres. Here occurred the gladiatorial con-
tests, the hunting of animals, the representations of
battles on land and sea. In the horse-races of the
present day we have something like the chariot races of
the Circus, but the spectacles of the Amphitheatre are
wholly unlike any thing modern. In Christendom the
only relic of them which can be found ■ — and that but
slight — is in the bull-fights of Spain.
On the walls of Pompeii we may still read the
inscription: "If the weather allows, the gladiatorial
CHAP. 11.] GLADIATORIAL CONTESTS. 125
bands of the ^dile Suetius Certus will fight, on the
30th of July, in the Arena at Pompeii. There will also
be a hunt of animals. The place for spectators is cov-
ered, and will be sprinkled." ^* Such an amphitheatre
must have been a splendid sight, the seats, rising one
above another, all filled, below, people of rank, sena-
tors, knights, ladies magnificently arrayed, sparkling
with gold and precious stones, Yestals in their sacred
garb ; higher up the other orders ; at the top the com-
mon people, country-folk, soldiers, house-slaves. Far
over the arena stretched an awning supported by masts
gay with pennons, many colored tapestries covered bal-
ustrades and parapets, festoons of roses linked pillar to
pillar, and in the spaces between stood glittering stat-
ues of the gods before whom rose from tripods fragrant
odors. Every thing exhaled pleasure and joy. People
laughed, talked, interchanged courtesies, spun love-
afPairs, or bet on this or that combatant. And yet
what a horrible show it was at which the multitude
lingered.
It began with a pompous procession of gladiators in
full armor. Before the Emperor they lowered their
arms and cried: "Hail, Imperator ! they who are about
to die salute thee." At first only a sham fight took
place, then the dismal tones of the tuhce gave the
signal for the combat with sharp weapons. The most
varied scenes followed in rapid succession. Singly or
in companies the retiarii came forward, almost naked,
without armor, their only weapons a dagger and tri-
dent, and endeavored each to throw a net over the
head of his antagonist in order to inflict a death-blow.
The Samnites, with large shields and short straight
swords, engaged the Thracians with small round shields
126 PUBLIC GAMES. ^ [book i.
and curved swords. Combatants clad in complete
armor aimed at the joints in the armor of their oppo-
nents, knights tilted at each other with long lances,
and others, in imitation of the Britons, fought standing
on chariots of war.
All this was not for show nor in sport, but in down-
right, terrible earnest. If one fell alive into the hands
of his opponent, the giver of the entertainment left the
decision of life or death to the spectators. The van-
quished begged for his life by holding up a finger. If
they waved their handkerchiefs his life was granted
him, if they turned up their thumbs this was a com-
mand for the fatal stroke. Women even, and timid
girls, gave lightly and without hesitation the sign which
doomed a man to death. The brave who despised
death received abundant applause, the timorous excited
the anger of the people who considered it an affront
if a gladiator would not cheerfully die. They were
trained for this in gladiatorial schools and learned there
also how to breathe out their lives with theatrical grace.
For this, too, the giver of the show had hired them
from the lanista, the owner of the school. This fact
appears in the Institutes as a question of law. A
lanista furnished a private person a number of gladia-
tors on the condition that he should pay for every one
who returned from the fight uninjured, or without seri-
ous wounds, twenty denay^ii^ for every one killed or
badly hurt, one thousand denarii. The question arose :
Was this purchase or hire ? Caius decided : In the
case of the first class it was hire, for they went back
to their master ; in the case of the second it was pur-
chase, since they belong to him whom they have served,
for what is the lanista to do with the dead or mutilated ?
CHAP, n.] EXHIBITIONS IN THE AMPHITHEATRE. 127
A right had thus been purchased in their death, and
accordingly those who hesitated to die were driven
into the fight with scourges and red-hot irons. In-
flamed to madness the spectators screamed : Kill ! lash !
burn ! Why does he take the death-blow with so little
bravery ? Why does he die so reluctantly ?
At the first spilling of blood, the roar and acclama-
tions of the crowd increased, it fairly thirsted for
blood. Before the vanquished had time to implore
mercy the cry for blood resounded, and the stroke
followed which put an end to life. Officials in the mask
of the god of the lower world dragged the still palpi-
tating body with a hook into the death chamber, whilst
the victors proudly flourished their palm branches, and
the spectators, at the highest pitch of excitement, stand-
ing on the benches, shouted approval. In the pauses
between the fighting the soil of the arena, saturated
with blood, was turned-up with shovels, Moorish slaves
tlirew on fresh sand, and smoothed again the place of
combat. Then the shedding of blood began anew.
Together with the gladiatorial shows proper, fights
with wild beasts were extremely popular, and were
carried out on a splendid scale. Wild animals were
hunted in all parts of the world in order to supply the
Amphitheatre at Rome, and those of other great cities.
The hippopotamus was transported from Egypt, the
wild boar from the Rhine, the lion from Africa, the
elephant from India. Even rhinoceroses, ostriches, and
giraffes v/ere not wanting. The beasts of the desert
were brought not singly but by hundreds into the
arena. Six hundred bears, five hundred lions, are
mentioned at one festival. At the games given by
Trajan in honor of the Dacian triumph in the year
128 PUBLIC GAMES. [book i.
A.D. 106, there fought in all eleven thousand animals
of the most diverse species. There was also great
variety in the contests. Now the v/ild beasts fought
with one another, now with dogs trained for this pur-
pose, now with men on foot or mounted.
Still more magnificent were the battles, especially
the naval battles, which took place in the Amphitheatre
arranged for their display, or on lakes excavated for
this special purpose. Whole fleets engaged in these
contests. Claudius exhibited on the lake Fucinus a
sea-fight between vessels of three and four benches of
oars, in which there were nineteen thousand combat-
ants. Domitian had a new and larger lake dug, on
which battles were fought by fleets almost as large as
those commonly employed at that time in war. These
were not mock-fights, but all real combats in which
thousands fell or were drowned.
While these spectacles still impress us by their mag-
nificence, the public executions, also exhibited as shows
in the Amphitheatre, excite only emotions of horror
and disgust. Wholly unarmed, or furnished with
v/eapons solely that their torments might be protracted,
the condemned were bound to stakes and exposed to
famished beasts. There they lay bleeding and with
torn garments, while the people shouted for joy. And
yet worse than this occurred. Those under condemna-
tion were used for theatrical spectacles at which all the
arts of decoration in which that age was so proficient
were brought into requisition — only in these plays
death, sufferings, and agonies were not feigned, but
actually endured. The unfortunate victims appeared
in garments interwoven with threads of gold, and with
crowns on their heads, when suddenly flames burst
CHAP. II.] INDIFFERENCE TO SUFFERING. 129
from their clothing and consumed them. There
Mucins Scsevola was seen holding his hand in a
brazier of live coals; there Hercules ascended on
Mount (Eta his funeral pile, and Avas burned alive ;
there robbers, hanging on crosses, were torn limb from
limb by bears. All this with complete theatrical ma-
chinery for the delight of a sight-loving people .^^
We turn away from such scenes with abhorrence.
Antiquity had no such feeling. We should search
literature in vain for expressions which censure and
repudiate this shedding of blood. Even a man like
Pliny,^^ who usually manifests a nobler and more
humane spirit, praises, in his Panegyric upon Trajan,
games " which do not enervate the minds of men, but
on the contrary inflame them to honorable wounds and
contempt of death as they perceive even in slaves and
criminals the love of praise and desire for victory."
Seneca calls them a light amusement. Once only,
when he had accidentally seen, in the recess at noon,
that unpractised gladiators were allowed to engage in
combats which were mere butchery, does he express
indignation that men were permitted to slaughter each
other merely for the amusement of those who remained
during the interval in the Amphitheatre.^'' Ovid^^
even instructs those present at these sights to improve
the offered opportunity for love making. One speaks
to his neighbor and in the eagerness of conversation
touches her hand, or asks of her the programme and
bets with her on the issue of the combat. For women,
too, beheld these sights, and while blood flowed in
streams, and men wrestled with death in the arena
below, those above engaged in thoughtless gallantries.
Such eagerness was there for these spectacles, that
130 PUBLIC GAMES. [book i.
even at social entertainments gladiatorial combats were
held, and not infrequently at these carousals the blood
that was shed mingled with the spilt wine.
This is Heathenism, and let us mark it well, not
Heathenism uneducated and rude, but at the height of
its culture. I know very well what in ancient culture
is fundamental and exemplary for all ages, so that we
read, and rightly, in our schools the Greek and Roman
classics, and open to youth a view of the beauty and
glory of the ancient world, but it would be one-sided
and untrue, should we for this reason overlook its great
defect. It lacked a genuine culture of the heart. With
all the perfection of form the heart still remained the
old, natural, undisciplined, human heart. A complete
change of heart, a work of purification wrought by a
man within himself, these were wholly strange con-
ceptions to Heathenism. Herbart has said, that one
object of classical instruction is to show the young that
durable life was not attained in Greece and Rome. TTie
heart was not satisfied.
The view which we thus obtain of the complete ex-
haustion from life of moral aims, is appalling. Life really
had no longer an object. The one great end for which
men had lived, the development of the State, no longer
existed. From the time when the Emperor could say :
"I am the State!" political life had ceased. All that
was left — the assemblies of the people, the Senate, the
offices derived from the Republic — was mere pretence.
No wonder that men were wholly absorbed in enjoyment,
and that " Bread and Games " became the motto for
all classes. But there was a deeper reason yet for this
exhaustion of life. Heathenism knew no goal in the
life beyond, and consequently had no true aim in the
CHAP, n.] IGNORANCE OF THE WORTH OF MAN. 131
present life. When a man has found the goal of exist-
ence in the other world, his one great task, however in
other respects his life may shape itself, is always within
his own heart. For him life continually retains the
sublime significance of a school for the life to come,
and in darkest seasons never becomes empty and un-
meaning. The heathen knew nothing of all this.
Therefore in times of decline, like those of the Empire,
their only resource was amusement. This drove them
to the circus and the theatre, and made it an event in
their eyes whether the horses with red colors or those
with green first reached the goal, whether this or that
gladiator was victorious.
And if then, wholly inconceivable as this now seems
to us, men and women, high and low, feasted their
eyes on murder and bloodshed, and saw nothing there-
in but a light amusement, it was because they did not
regard those who died in the arena amid horrible tor-
tures as men, but only as barbarians, foreigners, prison-
ers of war, slaves, criminals, outcasts of the human race,
worthless and dangerous. Antiquity lacked any genu-j
ine conception of humanity. The worth of man as man,]
a worth shared by all, even by foreigners and barba-
rians, which remains inamissible for all, even the most
degraded criminal, which is to be honored in all, even
in enemies, this was a truth hidden from the heathen.
Here, too, was the root of slavery, which prevailed
everywhere in Antiquity, and was considered by Greeks
and Romans as a perfectly justifiable and 'indispensable
institution.
V. SLAVERY.
A slave was not regarded by the ancients as a man,
he had neither a free will nor any claim whatever to
132 SLAVERY. [BOOK t.
justice, nor any capacity for virtue. Plato, the noblest
thinker of antiquity, wavers somewhat on this subject.
He concedes that there are slaves who have practised
virtue, and who have saved their masters by sacrificing
themselves; he affirms that the question how slavery
shall be estimated is a difficult one, but comes at last to
the conclusion that it is a natural institution since
Nature herself has destined some to bear rule, others
to serve. Aristotle admits no objections at all. In a
well-arranged household, he thinks, there are two sorts
of instruments — inanimate and animate. The former
are slaves without souls, the latter (slaves) are instru-
ments with souls. But though a soul is thus attributed
to slaves, it is explained to be imperfect, it is a soul
without will. The Romans speak in precisely the same
way. Florus ^^ characterizes the slaves as another race
of men. According to Varro,^*^ in his work on Agricul-
ture, there are three kinds of implements for tillage,
those that are dumb, e.g. wagons, those that utter in-
articulate sounds, e.g. oxen, and those that talk. The
last are slaves. Even a man like Cicero does not rise
above this. When his slave Sositheus, to whom he was
much attached, died, he wrote to Atticus : " Sositheus
is dead, and his death has moved me more than the
death of a slave should," ^^ just as we sometimes apolo-
gize for ourselves when troubled by the death of a dog
or a canary-bird. The Praetor Domitius caused a slave
who made the mistake on a hunt of killing a boar at
the wrong time, to be crucified as a punishment for his
offence. Cicero passes merely this judgment there-
upon : " This might, 2:)erhaps^ seem harsh." ^^
These views were impressed with the greatest dis-
tinctness on the Roman law. The slave was not a per-
CHAP. Ti.] POSITION OF THE SLAVE. 133
son, but only a thing whose owner had in it all the
rights of property, the right to use it or misuse it. The
slave himself had no rights.^^ He could not hold prop-
erty. Whatever he had belonged to his master. Hence
he could not be prosecuted by the latter for theft. If
a slave stole any thing from his owner, it was still his
master's. He could contract no marriage, nor could
any action be brought against him for adultery. Nei-
ther paternity nor kinship could be affirmed of him.
The words might be used ; it might be said, the slave
has a father, or relatives, but such language had no
legal meaning.^* His testimony was inadmissible in a
court of jusi?ice. If his deposition was needed, he was
subjected to torture. Only in this way could his evi-
dence have weight.
Though in many cases the actual treatment of slaves
was milder than the laws, it corresponded in the main
to the principles which have been stated. Slaves were
bought and sold, given away as presents and ex-
changed, inherited and bequeathed, according to caprice
or need. They were also lent and hired out. If the
hirer treated a slave badly, if a slave suffered an injury,
was maimed, or any thing of the sort, this was regarded
simply as deterioration of property. The loss was
made up to the owner, and the matter was considered
as adjusted ; no inquiry was made respecting the slave
himself. The slave-market was managed as with us the
cattle-market. The slaves, male and female, stood there,
the more valuable ones apart, often upon a raised plat-
form, those of less price in gangs. The vendor cried
up his wares, and used all sorts of means to make them
better looking ; the buyers looked at them, handled and
felt them, to be sure they were sound. The slaves
134 SLAVERY. [book i.
were required to walk, run, leap, open their mouths,
show their teeth, etc. When purchased they were
assigned, according to ability or opportunity, to some
handicraft or art, to agriculture or to hegging, or even
to the gladiatorial sports and the brothel. As porters
they were chained in front of the gate as with us a
house dog,^^ and at night were shut up in the ergastula
like animals in stalls. Like them they were branded
and marked ;^^ they were also flogged and crucified,
often on the least occasion.^^ So long as there was
any hope of profit from them they were spared, and
when dead they were cast into a pit with dead animals,
unless indeed they had been previously exchanged,
according to Cato's advice, for old oxen and cows.^^
As to-day a course of instruction in veterinary science
forms a part of the education of a farmer, so then a
large proprietor was obliged to have some knowledge
of medicine for the treatment of sick slaves. Gener-
ally the old and diseased were turned off without con-
cern, or they were killed outright as one kills a brute
beast. In the city of Rome they were usually exposed
on an island in the Tiber. Claudius enacted a law that
those thus exposed should be free, and if they got well
should not be obliged to return to their masters. Who-
ever killed his slaves, instead of exposing them, might
be indicted for it.^^
Not that the slaves were systematically abused.
They were so much property, a costly capital, to be
managed with the greatest economy. But the owners
of this capital, regardless of the fact that it consisted
of human beings, sought to make it as profitable as
possible. Therefore they exacted the maximum of
labor while they gave only the ininimum of what was
CHAP. II.] HARD LOT OF THE SLAVES. 135
absolutely necessary for maintenance. The meanest
laborer to-day is infinitely better off than the slave of
that time.
The hardest lot was that of the slaves who cultivated
the fields. There were many thousands of them, for
the extensive plantations of the Roman magnates were
carried on solely by slaves. It appears that a rich
Roman, C. Csecilius Claudius Isidorus, left over four
thousand slaves, and others certainly had no less. But
few had liberty of motion, and these found a dwelling,
perchance, as Cato directed, near the feeding-place in
the ox-stall. The majority worked in chains, and then
spent the night on the damp ground of the ergastu-
lum. These ergastula were slave-prisons, partially under-
ground, filthy and unhealthy. Augustus once had
them investigated, not however, as we should suppose,
in the interest of humanity, but simply for the purpose
of ascertaining whether strangers might not be unlaw-
fully imprisoned in them. Nothing was said about
improving the lot of the slaves, although the horrors of
their condition were fully disclosed. Worse, if possi-
ble, was the state of the slaves who worked in the
city in great factories, or who were otherwise employed.
The field-slave enjoyed at least the free air ; but they,
scantily clothed, their heads half shorn, their breasts
branded, were compelled to toil all day in the low
work-house without respite. On the other hand the
position of house-slaves, of whom there were often
many hundreds in the palaces of Rome, was more
tolerable. They were sometimes, especially at the
Imperial court, persons of position and wealth, and
had, even as slaves, and still more as freedmen, great
influence with their masters. Still their lot too was
136 SLAVERY. [BOOK i.
hard, and in many cases horrible. Dumb and fasting
such a slave must stand whole nights long behind the
chair of his carousing master, wipe ofp his spittle, or
quickly remove his drunken vomit. Woe to him if by
whispering, or even by sneezing or coughing, he dis-
turbed the peace of the feaster. He was exposed to
every caprice of his owner. A word, and he was sent
to the field-slaves in the prisons on one of his master's
numerous estates, or scourged till blood came, or horribly
killed, or thrown as food to the fishes. Caligula caused
a slave who had made some triiling mistake at a public
spectacle, to be thrown into prison, tortured for several
days in succession, and then executed when at last the
putrefying brain of the poor wretch diffused too strong
an odor for the cruel monster. A Roman magnate con-
demned a slave, who carelessly broke a valuable vase at
a banquet in the presence of Augustus, to be thrown to
the fishes, and not even the Emperor's intercession
could save him. Not merely the arbitrariness of a
capricious master, but the law also dealt thus rigor-
ously with the slaves. According to the old Roman
law, when a master was killed in his house, the slaves
who had passed the night under his roof were all exe-
cuted if the murderer was not discovered. This law
was still in force as late as the time of the Empire.
When, under Nero, the city prefect Pedanius Secundus
f was murdered, four hundred slaves of every sex and
age, down even to the smallest children, were put to
death. To be sure opposition arose in the Senate, but
a senator of distinction, C. Cassius, made a speech in
favor of the old usage with such effect that the Senate
decided to carry the law rigorously through, and it
was even proposed to render it still more severe by
CHAP, n.] SPEECH OF CASSIUS. 137
requiring that all freedmen who had been in the house
should be banished from Italy. The speech of Caius
Cassius, preserved by Tacitus, gives us a deep insight
into the customs of that age, as well as into the per-
nicious consequences of slavery. He reminded his
hearers of the danger to which all masters of slaves
would be exposed if the ancestral usage should in this
case be forsaken. Whom will his own dignity secure
when that of the prefecture of the city has been of no
avail? Whom will the number of his slaves defend
when four hundred have not protected Pedanius
Secundus? It is impossible that the murderer could
have planned and executed the deed without excit-
ing suspicion. The slaves in the house must have
observed some indications of the crime, but they have
not divulged. The slaves must be brought to do this
by fear. " If the slaves disclose we can live single
among many, safe among the anxious, and, if we must
perish, be not unavenged among the guilty. The dis-
positions of slaves were regarded with suspicion by
our ancestors even when they were born on the same
estates, or in the same houses with them, and from
infancy had experienced the love of their masters.
Now, however, when we have nations among our slaves
with various rites, with foreign religions, or none at all,
it is not possible to control such a rabble except by
fear." Thus mistrust on the part of the masters and fear
on the part of the slaves, were the principles in accord-
ance with which the slave-holders, and in their interest
the State also, were obliged to act. Should the objec-
tion be raised that thus innocent persons would perish,
Cassius replies : " When every tenth person in a de-
feated army is put to death, some who have been brave
138 SLAVERY. [book i.
draw the fatal lot. Every great example has some-
thing unjust in it, but this is counterbalanced by the
public good." ^^
Never has an opponent of slavery set forth its demor-
alizing effects so clearly as did the representative of the
slave-holders on this occasion in the Senate. The influ-
ence of slavery was necessarily disastrous on the morals
of the higher classes. A man can exercise dominion
over a brute without degradation, for it is subordinated
to him, but to govern his fellow-man like a beast must
lower him morally, for, since no restraint is laid upon
him, he is always in danger of giving the reins to his
passions. Slavery made masters cruel and hard, and
not seldom even women, renouncing the gentleness of
their sex, took pleasure in torturing their female slaves.
Among their slaves the masters found pliant tools for
every deed of shame, otherwise sins against purity
especially could never have become so excessive and
appalling. The low position of woman in Antiquity
was also a consequence of slavery. Its effects upon
children were even more injurious. They were wholly
abandoned to the care of the slaves. The slave had
no authority and was ready to please the child in every
thing, otherwise he had reason to fear the anger of his
master, or mistress. There must have been many a
father who exclaimed to his slave like the father in the
comedy : " Wretch, thou hast ruined my son ! " The
worst result of slavery was, that every form of honor-
able labor was despised, and became, as a service of
slaves, a disgrace. Slavery did not allow the formation
of a middle class, and so the check was wanting which
might have restrained the wider diffusion of the moral
ruin prevalent among the higher orders. That in
CHAP. II.] PERNICIOUS EFFECTS OF SLAVERY. 139
Rome the corruption proceeding from the Imperial
court and a debased aristocracy penetrated so quickly
and so deeply the entire people, is due, in no slight
degree, to slavery.
The slaves, in return, became what their treatment
made them. As they were deemed incapable of any
virtue, and arbitrarily and capriciously treated, so they
became low-minded, lazy, lying, and treacherous. The
sly, perfidious slave is a constantly recurring character
in Greek as well as Roman comedy. No one thought
of improving the slaves morally. There was but one
virtue for them, — absolute obedience to their masters,
for good or for ill. A slave had no moral responsibility
whatsoever. Conversely, the slaves looked upon their
masters as only their enemies, and were inclined, when-
ever opportunity occurred, to revenge and insurrection.
So many slaves as a man has, so many foes has he, was
a saying often heard.
The freedmen were another very bad and pernicious
element in the life of the Roman people. They were
exceedingly numerous. During the civil wars many
slaves had served in the army and had been rewarded
by the victor with their liberty. Manumissions fre-
quently occurred, also, in other ways ; occasionally from
attachment and gratitude, oftener from self-interest, —
as those who were enfranchised had to furnish a ransom,
or pay a heavy tax, from their earnings to their mas-
ters, — and from vanit}^ in order that great throngs
of freedmen might parade in the funeral procession of
their master. It became necessary to restrict manu-
missions by special laws. All classes of the population
were filled with freedmen. From them were recruited
the lower officials, mechanics, and tradesmen. Some
140 SLAVERY. [BOOK i.
acquired large wealth and shone as parvenus by a prod-
igality as senseless as extravagant. Many remained
in the families of their former masters as valets, secre-
taries, or stewards, and played an important part, not
merely in the houses of Roman magnates, but also at
the Imperial court. The free Roman shunned every
relation which implied service. He deemed it a dis-
grace even to serve the Emperor, and would rather be
fed by the State as a proletary. Consequently the
Emperors were obliged to seek their servants among
the freedmen. The posts of secretaries, and treasurers,
were regularly held by them under the Julian Emperors,
and more than once freedmen actually ruled the State.
Still the stain of their birth always clung to them ;
they never attahied to the dignity of a freeman, and
consequently did not possess the character and spirit of
a freeman, but even as freed remained servile. Among
them tyrants found their most manageable tools, and
from their ranks helpers for every deed of violence
could easily be obtained. At home in all classes of
/the population, they were specially influential in the
I diffusion of moral contagion.
We should, indeed, err, if we supposed that in
Antiquity no one thought of the rights of the slaves as
human beings. Such a sentiment is clearly and beau-
tifully expressed by the older Greek poets. " Many a
slave bears the infamous name whose mind, neverthe-
less, is freer than theirs who are not slaves," says Eurip-
ides,'^^ and another Greek poef*^ says yet more posi-
tively : " Though he be a slave, he is, O master, none
the less a man." The Stoic school with much greater
energy began to advocate the human rights of the slave.
This was a consequence of its doctrine of the unity of
CHAT. II.] HUMANER SENTIMENTS. 141
mankind. " Man is a sacred thing to man," says Sen-
eca : " we are all formed from the same elements, and
have the same destiny." "^^ " He errs who thinks that
slavery takes possession of the whole man. His better
part is excepted. Bodies are subject to masters, the
soul remains free." ^^ He regards it as a misfortune if
a man is born a slave, but this is not a determination of
nature, and in one place he calls the slaves his " hum-
ble friends." '^ We shall see, further on, that such
thoughts became increasingly prevalent in the heathen
world, and more and more transformed Roman laws
and customs. But at first they had little influence.
Slavery was held to be absolutely necessary, and there-
fore justifiable. Notwithstanding all that was said, it
had on its side established usage, law, and public
opinion. '^*^
Not until men were taught that whom the Son
makes free, they are free indeed, not till He was pro-
claimed who Himself took the form of a servant and
died the death of a slave on the cross, did the full day
of liberty begin to break for slaves, a day which neither
the theories of the Stoics, nor Seneca's fine words
respecting the dignity of man, could ever have brought.
Much is said, at the present time, about humanity, and
it is opposed to Christianity as something higher, or at
least it is brought forward as a substitute for Christian-
ity which is assumed to be in a state of decrepitude.
This is wholly to forget that true humanity is the prod-
uct of Christianity."^
VI. THE NEED OF MORAL RENEWAL.
A gloomy picture has unrolled itself before us. I
am conscious that I have not designedly painted it too
142 NEED OF MORAL RENEWAL. [book i.
dark, but that it may not seem blacker than the reality,
let "US not forget that in the midst of this fearful cor-
ruption some sounder elements must still have existed.
Otherwise the Roman Empire could not have stood so
long as it did. What we know of its moral life is
derived chiefly from Rome itself, and unquestionably
there, at the centre, the corruption was greatest, whilst
in the provinces, and in the camps of the legions, it
had not made so great progress. From thence accord-
ingly came a reaction, which brought to the Empire,
when the Julian house had passed away, a brilliant
after-summer under the noble Emperors of the second
century. We must remember, also, that in accounts
concerning that time, as all others, the unfavorable
aspects are very naturally the most emphasized. For
goodness has always but little to say about itself, and
in times of declension is peculiarly apt to be quiet.
We may safely assume, therefore, that even then there
were peaceful, decorous homes into which corruption
had not penetrated, where the labor of the hands pro-
cured the simple fare, and the discreet house-wife reared
her children as a good mother. Yet when all this is
taken into account, the general conclusion must still
be that the heathen world was ethically as well as reli-
giously at the point of dissolution, that it had become as
bankrupt in morals as in faith, and that there was no
power at hand from which a restoration could proceed.
It has indeed recently been affirmed that the corrup-
tion of morals was not worse then than at many other
periods ; and parallels from later centuries have been
adduced in justification of this assertion. Without
doubt there arc such. The court of Louis XIV., and
those of the princes of his day, afford many a counter-
CHAP. II.] RELIGION AND MORALITY. 143
part to the Imperial court in Rome. Yet two things
should not be overlooked. First, that at no other
period has moral corruption been so universal as in
that of the Emperors. At the time when the greatest
dissoluteness prevailed in the court at Versailles, what
simplicity and strictness characterized the life of the
people ! Such an entire stratum of population not yet
open to corruption, no longer existed in Rome. Sec-
ondly,— and this is of chief importance, — for Chris-
tian nations there is provided in Christianity a power
which can restore the moral life again and again from
the deepest degradation. The ancient world was desti-
tute of any such power. After its palmy age — a time
of comparative soundness — was gone, after corruption
had once entered, it degenerated beyond recovery.
Heathenism bore within itself no power of moral
renewal.
Or, where can such a power be supposed to have
resided ? In Religion ? We shall see that later,
towards the end of the second century, there occurred
a strong reaction of pagan faith. In place of the unbe-
lief which prevailed in the first century, superstition
gained the ascendancy, and this change reacted upon
morals; but reaction is not regeneration. Though
the pagan faith once more arose in might, and ap-
peared, especially against Christianity, as an impor-
tant power, it could not effect a moral transformation,
because the relation which subsisted between heathen
faith and morality was wholly unlike that which exists
between Christian faith and Christian life. There was
indeed a connection. The gods were regarded by the
heathen as the protectors of the moral law ; they pun-
ished evil and rewarded goodness. But there was this
144 NEED OF MORAL RENEWAL. [book t.
^ gr(;at difference between the two systems : the heathen
1 deities were neither the authors of the moral law nor
' its exemplars. Just as little could they impart strength
for its fulfilment. On the contrary, judged by its
requirements, the gods themselves were the most hein-
ous transgressors. What immoralities do the pagan
myths relate of the gods, and instances are by no
means wanting in which the heathen appeal, in justifica-
tion of their iniquities, to the examples of the gods.
Looking up to them had a demoralizing, rather than a
purifying, effect. " If I could only catch Aphrodite ! "
once exclaimed Antisthenes, a friend of Socrates, "I
would pierce her through with a javelin, she has cor-
rupted so many of our modest and excellent women." ^8
In the writings of Terence ^^ an adulterer expressly
pleads the example of Jupiter, an incident assuredly
not merely invented, but taken from life. " If a god
does it," so he concludes, " why should not I, a man ? "
From such deities no purifying influence could proceed.
: For his moral life the pagan was referred wholly to
himself. This is the reason why there was no virtue
in which the ancient world was so deficient as humil-
ity. It was utterly incomprehensible to a Greek or a
Roman, for such virtues as he possessed were self-
acquired without divine aid. Therefore he was proud
of them, and boasted of them even in comparison with
the gods. The Stoics deemed themselves as good as
the gods. Even Seneca, who complains so often about
human frailty, says : " Give your whole mind to Philos-
ophy, be absorbed in it, cultivate ifc, and you will far
surpass all other men, and be little inferior to the
gods." 80 Still more characteristic is the maxim also to
be found in the writings of Seneca : " Admire only thy-
CHAP. II.] THE STATE AND MORALTTY. 145
self." ^^ Kepeiitance, renewal through contrition, were
to the heathen utterly strange ideas. This is the pro-
founclest reason why a reactionary movement might
proceed from the heathen religion, but not a moral
recovery, not a regeneration.
Or could such a restoration emanate from the State ?
This preserved, unquestionably, the best which that age
had. There still remained, in a good degree, the old
Roman bravery, patriotism, and readiness to make sacri-
fices for the public good. Among the legions v/hich
along the Rhine protected the frontier from the barba-
rians already storming against it, and which more than
once bore their victorious eagles to Germany and
beyond the sea to Britain, and on the North and East
extended the boundaries of the Empire, making their
camps at the same time centres of civilization, some-
thing of the old spirit still survived. For this reason
the sovereignty naturally fell into their hands, and it
was the soldier Emperors who had grown up in the
camps, who, for a while, kept the structure of the old
civilization from falling to pieces. But from this source
a moral renewal could not come. The State was sick
to the very marrow, and this dominion of soldiers was
itself only a symptom of the disease. What the State
lacked was the bond of conscience, which secures the
obedience of citizens to the laws not merely from com-
pulsion, but for conscience' sake. No State can exist
without submission to the lav/s, but woe to the State
which endeavors to secure this result simply by force,
and whose citizens no longer render a willing obedience
from conscientious regard to its authorit}^ The
heathen faith, the dread of the avenging deities, had
been such a moral bond. This bond was loosened and
146 NEED OF MORAL RENEWAL. [book i.
from day to day became increasingly relaxed, the more
reliofion declined. The State itself needed reo'enera-
tion, if it was not to fall asunder; and the nobler Empe-
rors of the later time, even down to Diocletian, sought
for a religious basis, on which alone such regeneration
was possible, sought for a new bond of conscience with
which to unite again what was falling apart. They
found none. Religion can quicken the life of the State
so that it may flourish anew after temporary decay, but
the process cannot be reversed. Never can the moral
and religious life of a people be restored by any powers
at the command of the State.
There remains Philosophy. Qften looked upon dis-
trustfully by the first Emperors, often persecuted out-
right because it was suspected that behind the philoso-
pher was a republican, it grew in favor, until, in the
person of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher, it ascended
the Imperial throne. It became indispensable to the
culture of a Roman noble to frequent the schools of
the philosophers. Such schools Avere promoted in
every way, and even the salaries for their teachers
were provided by government. The more philosophy
was absorbed in ethics, and the philosopher's task
was not merely to teach but to train in virtue, so
much the more prevalent became the custom of taking
such persons into families, and the house-philosopher
becam-e as regular an appendant of a household of
rank as in the Middle Ages the castle-chaplain. The
family philosopher, like a father confessor or pastor,
was expected to be ready with counsel for those in-
trusted to his charge, and to impart consolation in the
hour of death. This was a need which doubtless
opened a way for Christianity, by which alone it could
CHAP, n.] PHILOSOPHY AND MORALITY. 147
be truly satisfied. The i^hilosophers discoursed even
in the streets. In the midst of the tumult of sen-
sual pleasures, to which the world was devoted, the
voices of the Cynics rang out, proclaiming renuncia-
tion, and freedom from wants, as the way to peace.
Not unlike the mendicant monks of the Middle Ages,
they roved about without fixed habitation or family,
often clad in a ragged mantle or simply a bear-skin, with
unkempt hair and shaggy beard, a wallet slung over the
shoulders, and alms their only means of support. In
the Forum they stopped the rich to declare to them that
nothing is more unhappy than a man who has never
met with any thing untoward ; on the street they stood
in the midst of the rabble and discoursed of the corrup-
tion of the world. Often they were rewarded only
with taunts, or even a cudgelling, but they took it
calmly, for, they said, it is the will of the Deity, to
which all things must be subordinated and sacrificed.
Certainly these phenomena make us feel that the
old world v\^as not contented with its condition. Here
too its longing and yearning for renewal are apparent,
and just as really, its inability of itself to bring this to
pass. What sort of persons usually were these preach-
ers of repentance? -They inculcated renunciation and
virtue, but if one offer them a piece of cake, mocks a
contemporary, they lower their speech and evince their
greatness of soul by accepting nothing small. And
though there were nobler figures among the philoso-
phers than these philosophasters, what was it, after all,
that was cultivated in their schools ? Rhetoric, nothing
more. They discoursed about virtue, oh with how many
fine words, with what art of facial expression and of
gesture; they declaimed without end upon the old
148 NEED OF MORAL RENEWAL. [book t.
themes: "Death is no evil," " The wise man who keeps
himself free from all needs is the happy man ; " the old
examples were praised; men plumed themselves upon
the splendor of their own virtue ; but in reality all
this (as we have already seen in the case of Seneca)
was mere words. How a man attains to the virtue
which is praised so much, how he becomes another
man, how he conquers death, no one of those who
talked so finely could really tell. Upon the people
Philosophy had at first no influence at all. They were
even despised by these proud professors of an esoteric
wisdom, and deemed incapable of any higher culture
and virtue. "With its empty heaven, its single doc-
trine of duty, its sole reward in a satisfied conscience,
its proud bearing toward the gods, from whom it asked
nothing, and the annihilation which it contemplated
without trembling, Stoicism was made for select souls,
not for the masses." ^^ For the heathen Philosophy
can be claimed neither the glory which St. Paul
ascribes to the preaching of the cross, that it was not
in lofty words, but in demonstration of the Spirit and
of power, nor that of the Gospel, that it was preached
to the poor.
Thus there was nowhere to be found a power com-
petent to the gigantic task of a moral renewal of the
ancient world. This power must come from another
source, from above. When to those who " were some-
times foolish, disobedient, deceived, serving divers lusts
and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful and
hating one another," the kindness and love toward man
of God our Saviour appeared, then was first opened the
fountain from which a new and healthful life flowed
forth for diseased humanity ; then the Gospel gathered
CHAP. II.] POWER FROM ABOVE.* 149
communions the opposite of that which the heathen
world had become, modest, chaste, diligent, their affec-
tions set upon things above, the salt of the earth, the
light of the world. But obviously the more corrupt
the world was in the midst of which they stood, the
more terrible must have been the conflict, until, in
place of the old pagan world, appeared a new Christian
world, in which indeed sin is always present, and moral-
ity is only fragmentary, but in which grace is mightier
than sin, in which the powers of the world to come rule
as powers of regeneration, and in which, therefore, we
can say: We were sometimes foolish, disobedient,
deceived; we were, but are so no more. To God be
praise and thanksgiving !
CHAPTER III.
THE CHRISTIANS.
** That ye may he without rebuke, in the midst of a crooked and perverse
nation, among whom ye shine as lights in the loorld." — Phil. ii. 15.
I. THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL.
Never in the whole course of human history have
two so unequal powers stood opposed to each other as
ancient Heathenism and early Christianity, the Roman
State and the Christian Church. Apparently, the
weakest of forces confronted the strongest. Remem-
ber the enormous power concentrated in the Roman
Empire ; consider not merely the material resources of
the State, but, also, that Heathenism had possession of
every sphere of life, public and private, that it filled
the State and the family, and ruled all culture, and
bear in mind, besides, the tenacious power dwelling in
a cultus which has prevailed for centuries. Contrast
with this the Christian Church as it was in its begin-
nings, totally destitute of all this might, possessing nei-
ther political power nor wealth, neither art nor science,
a little company, in the world's judgment, of unlearned
men, fishermen, publicans, tent-makers, with only the
150
CHAP, m.] ASSHRAKCE OF VICTOKY. 151
word of the cross, tlie message that the promised
Messiah has appeared, that in the crucified and risen
One there is salvation for all peoples. Verily, the
kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed,
small and insignificant; is like leaven, little as compared
with the mass of the meal ; but it is a living seed, it is
a transforming leaven, it bears within itself an energy
which is not of this world, and therefore is mightier
than the whole world.
Think once more of Paul on the Areopagus in
Athens. The glory of the ancient world surrounds
him, before his eyes are the noblest works of art which
Greece has produced, the Propyla^a, the Parthenon, the
masterpieces of a Phidias. In his wanderings through
this city of ancient renown he has seen the numerous
temples, the altars and images of the gods, and the zeal
with which they are worshipped. Around him are
philosophers reared in the schools of Grecian wisdom.
Epicureans and Stoics, proud of their wisdom, masters
of form and style. And yet this Jewish tent-maker
stands forth and preaches to them tliat all this belongs
to a past time, that now a new era has begun, and offers
to make known to them something before which all that
glory fades, all their worship proves futile, and all their
wisdom is as foolishness. Such language expressed more
than human courage ; there was in it a joyfulness such
as could have sprung only from the certainty of pos-
sessing in the Gospel a divine power able to cope with
all those earthly forces, an assurance to which this
same Apostle gives expression when he writes to the
Corintliians (1 Cor. i. 25) : " The foolishness of God is
wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger
than men."
152 THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. [book i
From the beginning Christianity bore within itself
the consciousness of universal dominion, and the full
assurance of victory over all the powers of the world.
"Ye are the salt of the earth, ye are the light of the
world ! " the Lord had said to the disciples, and, " Go
ye and make disciples of all the nations," was his part-
ing command. So they went forth to conquer the
world for Him to whom they belonged, admitting no
doubt that the victory would be theirs. " Greater is
he that is in you, than he that is in the world ! " and
"our faith is the victory which hath overcome the
world I " exclaims John ; and in proof that the Chris-
tians, even after the times of the Apostles, in the midst
of a conflict to human view so unequal, held fast this
joj^ful assurance, it will be enough to recall the beauti-
ful words of the Epistle to Diognetus : " What the soul
is in the body, that are Christians in the world. The
soul is diffused through all the members of the body,
Christians are scattered through all the cities of the
world. The soul dwells in the body, yet is not of the
body, so Christians dwell in the world, yet are not of
the world. The soul is imprisoned in the body, j^et
it holds the body together ; so Christians are confined
in this world as in a prison, yet they hold the world
together." ^
In truth all that Christianity had to oppose to the
whole might of Heathenism was simply the word, the
testimony, of Christ. But this testimony was preached
from a living faith, with demonstration of the Spirit
and of power, and was accompanied by the testimony
of life and conduct as a palpable proof for all of the
transforming and renewing power inherent in this word.
The preaching of the love of God in Christ approved
CHAP. III.] IMPRESSION UPON THE HEATHEN. 153
itself in the practice of love to the brethren, and what
Christians confessed they sealed in suffering with their
blood. Ye shall testify of me I was the Master's com-
mission to His disciples, and thus He pointed out to
them the way to overcome the world. The early Chris-
tians were also witnesses, and testifying of Christ by
word and life, in their love and suffering they won the
victory ; or rather. He Himself conquered through His
witnesses.
In the Roman Catacombs among the oldest pictures,
which certainly are as early as the second century,
there is a representation of the gift of water in the
desert as Moses smites the rock with his rod, and the
people, with vessels for drinking, press round the
gushing water.^ The picture unquestionably reflects
the impression made at that time by the preaching of
the word. In the barren wilderness of Heathenism
where men had souo^ht and duo; for water so lonof that
at last they were in despair of finding any, now welled
freshly forth the fountain of living water springing up
into everlasting life, and thus many a soul among the
heathen thirsting for truth, many a seeker after wisdom
in the schools of the philosophers, in the temples of
gods the most diverse, or in Jewish houses of prayer,
found here his deepest longing satisfied.
We possess two narratives of the conversion of
heathen, which although not belonging to the very
earliest period, are yet admirably adapted to show us
the impression made by Christian truth upon suscepti-
ble spirits, and the ways in which they came to it.
One of these narratives is contained in a kind of
romance from the middle of the second century, the
so-called Clementine Homilies, in which ostensibly Clem-
154 THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. [book i.
ent of Rome relates to us his history. " From my ear-
liest youth," he says, " I thought much concerning
death, and of what may be after death. When I die
shall I cease to exist and be remembered no more?
Has the world been made, and what was there before it
was made ? In order to learn something definite about
these and similar questions, I used to resort to the
schools of the philosophers. But nought else did I see
than the setting up and knocking down of doctrines,
and strifes and contentions, and artificial reasonings
and invention of premises. Now the oijinion pre-
vailed that the soul is immortal, now that it is mortal.
If the former I was glad, if the latter I was sorrowful.
Perceiving that opinions were deemed true or false
according to the ability of those who maintained them,
and not according to their real nature, I was more than
ever perplexed. Wherefore I groaned from the depths
of my soul. For neither was I able to establish any
thing, nor could I refrain from solicitude concerning
such themes. And again I said to myself: Why do I
labor in vain ? If I am not to live after death, I need
not distress myself now while I am alive. I will reserve
my grief till that day when, ceasing to exist, I shall
cease to be sad. But if I am to exist, of what advan-
tage is it to me now to distress myself? And immedi-
ately another thought came to me. Shall I not suffer
worse there than now ? If I do not live piously, shall
I not be tormented like Sisyphus and Ixion and Tan-
talus ? And again I replied : But there is no truth in
such stories. But if there be ? Therefore, said I, since
the matter is uncertain, it is safer for me to live piously.
But I am not fully persuaded what is that righteous
thing that is pleasing to God, neither do I know
CHAP, m.] STORY OF CLEMENT. JUSTIN MARTYR. 155
whether the soul is immortal or mortal, nor clo I find
any sure doctrine, nor can I abstain from such reason-
ings. What am I to do ? I will go into Egypt, and
seek and find a magician, and will persuade him with
large bribes to conjure up a soul. And so I shall learn
by ocular proof whether the soul is immortal." From
this purpose he was dissuaded by a friendly philosopher,
on the ground that the gods are angry with those who
disturb the dead. Clement therefore remained without
relief, until, hearing of Christ and his Apostles, he
determined to seek them. He first found Barnabas,
and was greatly impressed by the fact tliat in his
preaching, Barnabas did not concern himself with the
objections of the philosophers, tlieir subtle questions
and their ridicule of his simple and illogical discourses,
but calmly declared such things as he had heard and
seen Jesus do and say, and substantiated his statements
by witnesses instead of by artificial demonstrations.
Afterwards he found Peter, obtained from him a sure
answer to his questions, and became a Christian. All
this is only fiction, but the colors of the picture were
certainly taken from life, and the imaginary narrative
of Clement was doubtless the actual history of many.
In a similar manner Justin Martyr tells us of his
fruitless wanderings through the schools of the philoso-
phers in search of certainty and peace of mind. A
Stoic, under whose instruction he first placed himself,
asserted that the sure knowledge of God, which Justin
chiefly longed for, was a subordinate question of philo-
sophical speculation. A Peripatetic, of whom he next
inquired, demanded, after a few days, as of primary
importance, that he should settle the fee. This repelled
Justin, and he went to a Pythagorean, who dismissed
156 THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. [book i.
him immediately, because he had no knowledge of
music, geometry and astronomy, an acquaintance with
which the Pythagorean declared was pre-requisite to the
study of philosoph}^ since they are the means by which
the soul absorbed in earthly things may be purified.
Justin then turned to a Platonist, and supposed that he
had reached the goal, for his teacher introduced him to
the Platonic doctrine of ideas, and the pupil already
dreamed that he had become a sage and was near to the
vision of Deity. Then, walking alone one day on the
shore of the sea, he met an old man, a mature Christian,
and fell into conversation with him on divine things.
The venerable man showed him that God can be per-
ceived only by a mind sanctified by the Spirit of God,
and so affected him that all at once his proud dream of
knowledge vanished. The old man, seeing his conster-
nation, pointed him to the divine Word as the source of
all true knowledge of God, and began to tell him of
Christ. Following these hints, Justin found in Chris-
tianity that sure knowledge of God which he had
sought for in vain in the different schools of philoso-
phers .^
Doubtless, what principally attracted the heathen and
held them fast, was the fact that with the Christians
was to be found full assurance of faith on the basis of
a divine revelation. They did not ask : What is truth ?
but they preached : " Grace and truth came through
Jesus Christ." They did not dispute pro and coyitra as
in the schools, nor was their final conclusion that we
can know nothing with certainty, but : '' That which we
have heard, which we have seen with our eyes and our
hands have handled of the word of life, that declare
we unto you." They did not prate about trifies like
CHAP. III.] CHARACTER OF THE PREACHING. 157
the Rhetoricians, who with the most incredible affecta-
tion of far-fetched words now pronounced a eulogy upon
obscurity or laziness, now discussed the dangerous ill-
ness of a member of the Imperial household as a wel-
come theme for rhetorical artifice, but they spoke simply
and plainly upon the highest themes and such as are
necessary to the salvation of the soul. They said
nothing about artificial ways of attaining the favor of
God, such as the wandering magicians and hierophants
scraped together in order that they might with much
mystification proclaim them as the only saving wisdom,
-^for example, when one of them tried to prove that
the surest way to please God was always in libation to
pour the wine exactly over the handle of the pitcher,
as that is the only part which is not defiled by man's
mouth. On the contrary Christians bore witness to
facts, the facts of Redemption : " God was in Christ
reconciling the world unto Himself;" Christ ''was
delivered for our offences, and was raised again for
our justification." To all was made known the one
true God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
preached not as the result of philosophical speculation,
but upon the basis of His word, not as a secret doctrine
for a few wise men, but publicly to all, even the poor
and the insignificant. "Not only the rich among us,"
says Tatian, " seek for wisdom, but the poor also enjoy
instruction gratuitously." ^ " Every Christian laborer,"
says Tertullian, ''both finds out God and manifests Him,
though Plato affirms that it is not easy to discover the
Maker of the universe, and when He is found it is diffi-
cult to make Him known to all." ^
The sign which our Lord adduced in proof of His
Messiahship: "To the poor the Gospel is preached,"
158 THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. [book i.
was now abundantly fulfilled. It is a characteristic of
those times that the circle of the poor, the oppressed,
the unprotected, the enslaved was so large. What an
impression must have been made upon such persons, on
all who were without possessions, who had no share in
the wealth and pleasures of Rome, upon the obscure
and down-trodden, on the artisans who, because they
lived by the work of their hands, were regarded as of
no account by the ancient world proud of its learning
and culture, of whom even a Plato said their life serves
no other end than the practice of their trade, and if
they fall sick they must be left to their fate since they
can no longer fulfill their calling, on the crowds of
slaves in their lot so unworthy of human beings ; what
impression must have been made on these, when the
poor Jesus, who Himself died the death of a slave, was
proclaimed to them, and in Him access to a divine
kingdom which embraces all men, in which there are
no more masters nor servants, nor any who are trodden
under foot. Even in the second century Celsus scoff-
ingly says that workers in wool and in leather, and
fullers, and persons the most uninstructed and rustic,
were the most zealous ambassadors of Christianity, and
brought it first to women and children.^ But the
mockery of the heathen bore witness, against their
will, to the power of the preached word, and what was
only a matter of scorn to cultivated pagans was to our
Lord a subject of praise when He said : " I thank Thee,
O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because Thou hast
hid these tilings from the wise and prudent, and hast
revealed them unto babes. Even so. Father, for so it
seemed good in Thy sight (Matt. xi. 25, 26)."
Another satire of the same enemy of the Christians,
CHAP, ni] THE FORGIVENESS OF SINS. 159
Celsus, gives us a still deeper view of the power of the
evangelical preaching. " Let ns hear," he says, " what
kind of persons these Christians invite. Every one,
they say, who is a sinner, who is devoid of understand-
ing, who is a child, him will the kingdom of God
receive. They assert that God will receive the sinner
if he humble himself on account of his wickedness,
but that He will not receive the righteous man
although he look up to Him with virtue from the
beginning." ^ This seems to Celsus thoroughly absurd.
" It is manifest to everybody," he thinks, " that no one
by punishment, much less by showing mercy, could
wholly change those who are sinners both by nature
and custom."^ It was precisely this preaching of
grace which had such power over men's spirits. Now
the consciousness of sin awoke in the heathen world,
and a longing for redemption. Now many souls
groaned under the burden of their sins and asked for a
purification, for an atonement. Here they found what
they had sought for in vain in the heathen temples,
in manifold consecrations and lustrations, in numer-
ous ascetic practices and acts of wearisome self-denial,
which continually gained a larger place in the pagan
cultus. In the blood of the Lamb of God they were
offered the free forgiveness of all sins, and in Baptism
a laver of purification which cleansed them from all
defilement. The invitation of our Lord : " Come unto
Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest," preserved all the more its power since
in the decaying world whose splendor and joy were
daily fading, the number of the weary and heavy laden
was daily increasing.
And at a time when the attention of men was turned
160 THE PREACHING OF THE GOSPEL. [book i.
with greater longing to the other world, when, as we
have seen, the question was more and more earnestly
discussed : Is there another life ? and how can we
attain to a blessed existence there? what an impres-
sion must have been made when the Eesurrection of
Christ was proclaimed. Here was the answer to all
such questions, not upon the basis of doubtful proofs
and reasonings which, as Clement says, could be turned
now for, now against immortality, but on the ground
of a fact. Here was offered what the heathen world
lacked, a living hope. It was attested at the graves
of Christians. There were heard, not cries of lamen-
tation, but the singing of psalms : " Precious in the sight
of the Lord is the death of his saints," " Return unto
thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bounti-
fully with thee," "Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for
Thou art with me ; " there resounded a victorious
" Hallelujah ! death is swallowed up in victory ! " and
the inscriptions on the unpretending graves: "He
lives ! " " In peace ! " show that Christians had become
sure of eternal life. Even the attacks of the heathen,
which were more vehement against this article of the
Christian faith than any other, even the terrible scorn
with which they exclaimed, as the bodies of the martyrs
in Lyons were burned, and the ashes cast into the
Rhone : " We shall now see if they will rise," sufficiently
prove the power exerted upon men's minds by the
preaching of the Resurrection and of eternal life.
II. WORSHIP AND CHURCH LIFE.
The religious services of the Christians also made a
deep impression upon the heathen. Pagan worship was
CHAP. III.] CHRISTIAN WORSHIP. 161
everywhere destitute of devotion. The Roraan religion
was a lifeless ritualism, a punctilious repetition of litur-
gical formulas, although the language used had ceased
to be intelligible. Among the Greeks raillery and jests
were practised in connection with their most solemn
processions. When, at the celebration of the greater
Eleusinian mysteries, the mystse marched in procession
to Eleusis, they were greeted at the bridge over the
Cephissus with all sorts of jokes and gibes, many of
them exceedingly coarse. Even at tlie chorus dance
on the meadow near Eleusis, similar sport was made.
The Oriental cults were, on the contrary, a sort of orgy,
in which ecstasy, exaggerated often to frenzy, took the
place of devotion.
The worship of the Christians was the exact oppo-
site to this heathen cultus. Pomp and splendor were
not to be found among persons so poor, but their service
was a worship of God in spirit and in truth. No tem-
ples, no altars, no images, was their rule.^ They needed
no temple, they who were themselves, according to the
testimony of the Apostle, the living temple of God,
built upon the foundation of the Apostles and Proph-
ets, Jesus Christ Himself being the chief corner-stone.^'^
In houses here and there, in little narrow rooms, or in
a hall when a wealthy member of the church possessed
such an apartment, they were wont to assemble for sing-
ing, reading of the Scriptures, prayer, and celebration
of the Lord's Supper. In the early days it often hap-
pened that one or another member of the congregation,
who had received the gift, spoke a word of edification ;
but generally, and in later times exclusively, this ser-
vice devolved upon the president. We possess several
descriptions of this primitive Christian worship, which
162 WORSHIP AND CHURCH LIFE. [book i.
are as simple as was the service itself, yet Id their sim-
plicity testify to its vitality, its freedom from dead
forms, its perfect truth. Pliny the Younger, while
governor in Bithynia, instituted inquiries respecting
the faith and the life of Christians, and also by tortures
extorted confessions from some deaconesses. The in-
formation which he thus obtained he embodied in a
letter to the Emperor Trajan. " The Christians," he
says, " affirmed that it was their custom to meet on a
stated day before sunrise, and sing a hymn to Christ as
to a god ; that they further bound themselves by an
oath " (obviously the baptismal vow) " never to commit
any crime, but to abstain from robbery, theft, adultery,
never to break their word, nor to deny a trust when
summoned to deliver it, after which they would sepa-
rate and then re-assemble for the purpose of eating in
common a harmless meal." ^^ Still more exactly does
Justin describe this worship : ^^ " On Sunday, all who
live in cities or in the country gather together to one
place, and the memoirs of the Apostles or the books of
the prophets are read, as long as time permits. Then,
when the reader has ended, the president in a discourse
instructs, and exhorts to the imitation of these glorious
examples. Then we all rise together and send upwards
our prayers. And when we have ceased from prayer,
bread and wine and water are brought, and the presi-
dent offers prayers and thanksgivings according to his
ability. The congregation assent, saying Amen; and
there is a distribution to each one present of the conse-
crated things, and to those who are absent a portion is
sent by the deacons. And they who are well-to-do and
willing give what each thinks fit, and the collected
gifts are deposited with the president, who succors
CHAP. III.] THE AGAPM. 163
with them the widows and orphans, and those who
through sickness or any other cause are in want, and
those who are in bonds, and the strangers sojourning
among us, in short, all who are in need." Connected
at first with the Lord's Supper, afterwards separated
from it, were the Agapce, whose observance is hinted
at in the letter of Pliny. The whole congregation met,
like, one family, at a common meal. Tertullian de-
scribes these feasts as they were observed in his day.
" Our meal," he writes,^^ " explains itself by its name.
It is designated by the Greek word for love QAgape).
Whatever it costs, our outlay is gain if we thus benefit
the poor. This is the honorable occasion of our repast.
By this judge its further regulations. As it is an act of
religious service, it permits no vileness, nor excess. We
do not go to the table until we have first tasted of
prayer to God ; we eat as much as satisfies the hungry ;
we drink as much as is profitable for the chaste. We
satisfy ourselves as those who remember that during
the night also God is to be worshipped ; we converse
as those who know that the Lord hears them. After
water for the hands and lights are brought, each one is
called upon to praise God, either from the Holy Scrip-
tures or of his own mind ; hence it is proved how much
he has drunken. As the feast began, so it is closed,
with prayer. Thence we separate, not into bands for
violence, nor for roaming the streets, but to take the
same care of our modesty and chastity as if we had
been at a place of instruction rather than at a ban-
quet." Imagine such a religious service in its sim-
plicity and youthful freshness, think of some church in
times perhaps of persecution, expecting every moment
that spies will betray them or a mob break in with
164 WORSHIP AND CHURCH LIFE. [book i.
yells and stones; yet hymns and psalms resound, the
word of life is preached with plainness and holy
earnestness, the congregation rise for prayer, the presi-
dent leads, all join with him and solemnly repeat the
Amen, all receive the body and blood of the Crucified
One, whom perhaps they will soon follow in death, all
unite in the feast of love, and with prayer and the kiss
of peace they depart — verily, we can understand how
the heathen who only once attended such a service
should in many instances have been thereby won for-
ever. In their temples dead ceremonial worship, here
one of the living, life-giving Word ; there a dumb, inac-
tive mass of spectators, while the priest alone had inter-
course with Deity, here a participating, singing, hear-
ing, praying communion, all priests of the living God.
Already, in 1 Cor. xiv. 24, 25, we read that unbeliev-
ers, who should see and hear this, would be deeply
moved, fall on their faces, worship God, and confess
that God was in them of a truth ; and Eusebius, in his
history, testifies explicitly : " The Holy Spirit wrought
many wonders through them, so that vast crowds, at
the first hearing of the Gospel, eagerly received it into
their hearts." ^^
The Christians had what the heathen lacked, congre-
gational life. Antiquity was not destitute of public
spirit. On the contrary this existed to a special degree,
as is proved by the numerous legacies and donations,
and by the erection of public buildings, of which
inscriptions give us information. In the domain of
industrial life the impulse to association was very
strongly developed. Colleges were instituted for the
different branches of industry, and endowed with
funds for the relief of the sick and the dying, and for
CHAP. Ill] CHRISTIAN CHURCHES. 165
burials. There were colleges also for religious pur-
poses, associations for the service of special deities.
The provincial assemblies (^Kohioti) were also united
by religious festivals. But there was nothing like the
Christian societies in pagan antiquity. Polytheism did
not admit of it. Public spirit developed itself simply
on the political side. But as political life declined it
offered less and less room for activity. Freedom ceased
to exist, all were slaves of one. Every act by which a
man distinguished himself, every illustrious achievement
was attended with the danger of exciting the jealousy
of the sovereign power. Municipal life retained at
first more freedom, but its offices, which had formerly
been sought as positions of honor, became in time so
burdensome on account of the heavy expenses con-
nected with them, that every one, as far as possible,
avoided them, so that it became necessary to enforce
their acceptance by law. In the Christian communities,
on the other hand, a circle was formed which, although
small, was all the more active. Controlled by the
spirit of fellowship, and united in fraternal affection
by a common faith, all the members labored, prayed
and suffered together. In such a society there was
room for every kind of activity, and opportunity for
the most varied talents. There freedom found a sanc-
tuary, and there, in the midst of action and suffering,
noble characters could unfold and grow strong.
in. CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS.
And what testimony to the truth of Christianity was
given by the conduct of its professors. " Among us,"
pleads Athenagoras,^^ addressing the heathen, " you can
find uneducated persons, artisans, and old women, who.
166 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
if they are unable in words to prove the benefit of the
Christian doctrine, yet by their deeds exhibit the bene-
fit arising from their choice." Times without number
the defenders of Christianity appeal to the great and
advantageous change wrought by the Gospel in all who
embraced it, and continually set forth the contrast
between the lives of men before and after conversion, to
which St. Paul often refers in his Epistles. " We who
formerly delighted in fornication," says Justin Martyr
in his First Apology,^*^ "now strive for purity. We
who used magical arts, have dedicated ourselves to the
good and eternal God. We who loved the acquisition
of wealth more than all else, now bring what we have
into a common stock, and give to every one in need.
We who hated and destroyed one another, and on
account of their different manners would not receive
into our houses men of a different tribe, now, since the
coming of Christ, live familiarly with them. We pray
for our enemies, we endeavor to persuade those who
hate us unjustly to live conformably to the beautiful
precepts of Christ, to the end that they may become
partakers with us of the same joyful hope of a reward
from God, the Ruler of all." This distinction between
Christians and heathen, this consciousness of a com-
plete change in character " and life, is nowhere more
beautifully described than in the noble epistle of an
unknown author to Diognetus.-^^ "For Christians," it
says, "are distinguished from other men neither by
country, nor language, nor the customs which they
observe ; for they neither inhabit cities of their own,
nor employ a peculiar form of speech, nor lead a singu-
lar life." And yet they are wholly different from the
heathen. "They dwell in their own countries, but
CHAP, m.] CHRISTIANS DIFFER FROM HEATHEN. 167
simply as sojourners. As citizens they share in all
things with others, and yet endure all things as if they
were foreigners. They marry as do all, and have chil-
dren, but they destroy none of their offspring. They
have a table common, but not unclean. They are in
the flesh, but they do not live after the flesh. They
pass their days on earth, but they are citizens of
heaven. They obey the prescribed laws, and at the
same time surpass the laws by their lives. They love
all, and are persecuted by all ; they are unknown and
are condemned ; they are put to death and yet live ;
they are poor jet make many rich ; they are in want of
all things, yet abound in all; they are dishonored, and
yet in their very dishonor are glorified; they are
reviled, and bless; they are insulted, and repay the
insult with honor; they do good yet are punished as
evil-doers; when punished they rejoice. They are
assailed by the Jews as foreigners, and are persecuted
by the Greeks, yet those who hate them are unable to
assign any reason for their hatred." With confidence
can TertuUian appeal to the transactions of the courts,
in which no crime had ever been proved against Chris-
tians but that of their faith. " Daily," he addresses the
heathen,^^ " you are presiding at the trials of prisoners,
and passing sentence upon crimes. In your long lists
of those accused of many and various atrocities, what
assassin, what cutpurse, what plunderer of bathers'
clothes is also entered as being a Christian ? Or, when
Cln^istians are brought before you on the mere ground
of their name, who among them is ever chargeable with
such offences? It is always with your folk the prison
is steaming, the mines are sighing, the wild beasts are
fed ; it is from you the exhibitors of gladiatorial shows
168 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
always get their herds of criminals to feed up for the
occasion. You find no Christian there, except for
being such." Even the heathen themselves could not
escape from this impression. The influence of Chris-
tian faith upon life and conduct was so powerful that
heathen hatred itself could not but acknowledge it.
Galen, the celebrated physician, certainly a cool ob-
server and an unimpeachable witness, says, that most
men must be taught by similes. In this way those who
were called Christians had derived their faith from the
parables of their Master. Yet they acted often as those
who followed the true philosophy. " We are witnesses
that they have learned to despise death, and that for
shame they keep themselves from carnal pleasures.
Among them are men and women who abstain from
marriage ; some, too, who in their endeavors to rule
their spirits, and to live nobly, have made such progress
that they come short in no respect of true philosophers."
Christianity as yet presented none of the external
advantages which afterwards brought into the church
so many spurious members. Instead of power, honor
and wealth, it offered reproach, derision and constant
peril. Nor did custom and tradition yet incline men to
the mere outward profession of Christianity. Whoever
adopted the new faith did so from personal conviction,
and with the heart. Such an act was itself a sacrifice ;
for whoever became a Christian was compelled to re-
nounce not only immemorial prejudices, but usually,
also, father and mother, brothers and sisters, friends
and relatives, perhaps office, place and employment.
The turning-point between the pre-Christian and the
Christian life stood out with great distinctness. It is
characteristic of a period of conflict that sudden con-
CHAP. III.] StTDDEK CONVERSIONS. 169
versions are more frequent then than at other tinies,
that the marvel inherent in every conversion becomes
more evident, and, so to speak, more palpable. Not
infrequently did it happen that the execution of a
Christian occasioned the immediate conversion of some
among the guards, soldiers, executioners and spec-
tators. According to credible testimonies, yet more
striking changes occurred. Under Diocletian, an actor
in Rome, Genesius, appeared in a play in which the
Christians were ridiculed. He performed his part with-
out hesitation and to the delight of the people, until
the moment when he was to ask for baptism. Seized
by an irresistible power he suddenly stood still and
silent, and then explained to the astonished audience,
that he himself desired to become a Christian. Uj)on
this he left the stage, received baptism, and soon sealed
his faith with a martyr's death.^^
With these extraordinary events may also be men^f
tioned the frequent occurrence of conversions through!
wonderful dreams, as Origen^*^ expressly testifies. Wit- \
nesses who are above suspicion leave no room for
doubt that the miraculous powers of the Apostolic age
continued to operate at least into the third century .^^
Yet the importance of these miracles should not be
too highly estimated. It is true the Apologists appeal
to them as a testimony to the truth of the Gospel.
Yet there are no indications that they contributed, in i
any special degree, to gaining the people over to thei/
faith.2'^
Even where conversion occurred less suddenly, there
was the most definite consciousness of the change ex-
perienced, and as Christians were continually reminded
by the heathen life around them of their peculiar call-
170 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
ing, and their separation from this present evil world,
so likewise were they ever sensible of their obligation to
live differently from the heathen and to bring them-
selves into complete subjection to Christianity. This
consciousness was expressed in customs and symbols.
The Scriptures were read, and psalms were sung, in
their homes. Not only was prayer offered before every
meal, but also a piece of the consecrated bread which
had been brought from the church was eaten. When-
ever they went out and came in, when they put on
their clothes and shoes, when they bathed, when they
lighted the lamps, when they lay down and when they
went to bed. Christians traced on their foreheads the
sign of the Cross, and this was not then a dead sign but
a living remembrance of the Crucified One, of baptism
into His death, and of the obligations assumed in bap-
tism.22
A calm and sacred earnestness pervaded the entire
life of Christians. Knowing that Christ's followers are
the salt of the earth and the light of the world, they
endeavored to fulfill their calling. Their eyes turned
to the future, to the Lord who had promised to come
again, and in expectation of His speedy appearance
they followed with zeal after that holiness without
which no one shall stand before Him. Their life was
a military service, under Christ their Captain. To Him
they had taken in baptism the soldier's oath ; and for
Him they had renounced the devil, and all his works and
ways. Their standard was the Cross, their watchword
the confession of faith, their weapon, with which they
stood on the watch night and day, and kept station and
vigil, was prayer.2* " Let us never walk unarmed,"
exhorts Tertullian ; " by day let us remember our sta-
CHAP. III.] EARNESTNESS OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. 171
tion, by night our watch. Under the arms of prayer
let us guard the standard of our Commander ; praying
let us await the angel's trump." ^^ Fasts also were fre-
quently and strictly observed. Fasting was regarded
as a specially important means of proving the earnest-
ness of the Christian life, and of confirming one's self
in it, but it was voluntary not prescribed. The fast in
Easter-week, however, early became obligatory. Bap-
tism, also, Avas prepared for by fasting.'-^^
The Christian life was always uniform. " Nowhere,"
says Tertullian, whom we have just quoted, " is the
Christian any thing but a Christian." '^"^ Not merely
at church, but at home also, in their vocations and on
the street, Christians desired to appear as Christians.
They guarded with the greatest care against any con-
nection with Heathenism ; they avoided with the utmost
conscientiousness every thing which could in any way
be construed as a denial of their faith. Difficult indeed
must have been the task, for their entire life was
encompassed by a net-work of heathen customs which
a Christian must every moment rend, if he would
remain true to his God. Every step and turn necessi-
tated a confession of faith, and every confession in-
volved danger. The symbols, and still more the spirit
of Heathenism were everywhere. If a Christian went
upon the street, he saw the images of the gods standing
there, and met processions in which they were solemnly
carried about. All who passed by paid their homage ;
the Christian could not do this. If he entered the
Senate, or a court of justice, there stood an altar with
incense and wine. Custom required one in passing to
offer a libation, and strew incense. If he stepped into a
tavern, or stall, or shop to make a purchase or leave an
172 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
order, he always found an altar and little idols, often no
longer than the thumb. Or perhaps he was invited by
heathen friends, or relatives, to a family festival. If he
did not go, he gave offence ; if he went, he still could
not but incur their displeasure by declining to partici-
pate in the festal sacrifices and in the libations which
were offered from beginning to end of the meal, es-
pecially to the Csesar-god, and by refusing to partake of
this or that article of food. Frequently on such occa-
sions the heathen purposely tempted the Christians, by
setting before them food prepared with blood, from
which, according to Acts xv. 29, they were accustomed
to abstain.2^ j^ such circumstances Christians esteemed
it all the more their duty openly to acknowledge their
faith. Not only custom and usage, but language also
was thoroughly imbued with heathenism. The formu-
las of the oath, depositions, testimony before a tribu-
nal, greetings and thanksgivings, all contained remem-
brances of the heathen gods. By Hercules ! this and
similar exclamations were often heard. The Christian
must refrain from these, must at least protest by silence.
He might give alms to a beggar on the street. Natu-
ally, in gratitude, the recipient would wish for his bene-
factor the blessing of some god. Christians who were
strict in their deportment believed that it was not per-
mitted them, in such a case, to remain silent, lest it
should seem as if they accepted the blessing of an idol ;
they considered it incumbent upon them openly to
avow that their charity had been given for the sake of
the living God, and that He might be praised therefor.
If a Christian had occasion to borrow money, the note
which he must sign would contain an oath by the
heathen gods. He could only refuse to execute the
note.^^
CHAP, m.] DIFFICULT POSITION OF CHRISTIANS. 173
Many special relations of life brought the Christians
into still more difficult situations. A master would
order a Christian slave to do something wholly unob-
jectionable from a heathen point of view, but sinful
according to a Christian standard, and yet the slave
was completely in the power of his master, who could
have him, if disobedient, tortured and even killed.
How should the Christian wife, who had a heathen
husband, fulfill her Christian obligations, attend divine
worship, visit the sick, entertain strangers, distribute
alms, without offending her husband ? How could the
officer, or the soldier, perform his duties without deny-
ing his faith ? For long the two callings were deemed
incompatible, and the officer preferred to resign his
position, the soldier to leave the ranks, rather than to
give up his Christian profession.^^ Those who could
not do this were often obliged to purchase fidelity to
their Lord with their blood. Many a person also, in
order to become and to remain a Christian must have
relinquished the trade or the employment which pro-
cured him a livelihood. All who had obtained a sup-
port by the heathen cultus, servants and laborers in
the temples, idol-makers, sellers of incense, as well as
actors, fencing-masters in the gladiatorial schools, etc.,
were admitted by the church to baptism only on con-
dition that they should abandon their occupations, and
whoever as a CJn-istian engaged in such employments
was excluded from fellowship.^^
Generally the churches maintained a strict discipline.
The morals and conduct of church members were care-
fully watched over, and their faults earnestly reproved.
Those who fell into gross sins, the so-called mortal
sins, — idolatry, blasphemy, adultery, impurity, mur-
174 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
der, fraud, false testimony, — were separated from the
church. Only after a long probation, and after evi-
dence of earnest repentance, could such offenders be
re-admitted. And this restoration, in accordance with
earlier usage, was possible but once. Whoever fell
away a second time, could not again be taken back.
Thus by strict discipline the church endeavored to keep
itself free from impure elements, and at the same time
to offer support to the weak. In spite of such effort it
was not wholly free from corruption, and no little
weakness comes to light. The primitive church was
not a perfect communion of saints, but, like the church
of all other times, a field in which the wheat and the
tares grew together. Yet, notwithstanding these de-
fects the Christian churches stood like far-shining lights
in the midst of darkness, and proved themselves by
their life and conduct new powers of life, powers of
the world to come, capable of renewing from within
the old and decaying world.
If human society was to be really regenerated, it
was necessary that the foundations should be laid
anew. These lie in marriage, and in the family. Mar-
ried and domestic life had fallen into decay in the
heathen world. Christianity re-established them by
restoring freedom of marriage, by infusing into it a
new spirit, by showing again to the wife her divinely-
appointed position, and by making her once more her
husband's helper instead of his slave.
In Antiquity marriage, like every thing else, cen-
tred in the State. Its end was to produce citizens.
The individual, therefore, was under obligation to the
State to marry, and the State, as already remarked,
deemed itself constrained to enforce the fulfillment of
CHAP, m.] MARRIAGE. 175
this duty by penalties. Christianity made marriage \
free. It honored the liberty of the individual, and left ')
it to him to decide whether he would marry or not. It
honored also the unmarried state, and though we must
concede that, in this respect, false and unevangelical
opinions soon found acceptance, and an exaggerated
estimate was put on the celibate life as peculiarly holy,
a notion nowhere sanctioned in Scripture, yet it should
not be overlooked that this regard for celibacy implies
a conquest over the false and pagan conception of
marriage.
For contempt of marriage in favor of celibacy did
not prevail until long afterwards. On the contrary mar-
riage then first received its due honor by being recog-
nized and treated as a divine institution. Matrimony
was contracted with the privity and sanction of the
church. Intended marriages were notified to the bish-
op, and were entered upon with his blessing.^-- Mar-
riages which were concluded without the co-operation
of the church were not regarded by it as true marriages.
A hig^her aim was now set than Heathenism had ever
known. " Marriage," says Clement of Alexandria,^^ " is
a school of virtue for those who are thus united, de-
signed to educate them and their children for eternity.
Every home, every family must be an image of the
church, for, says our Lord, where two are gathered in
my name there am I in their midst." A much closer
and stronger tie now united husband and wife, the
bond of a common faith. We find in Tertullian ^"^ a
eulogy of Christian marriage in which he compares a
complete union, where both parties, husband and wife,
are Christians, with a mixed marriage where a Chris-
tian wife is joined to a pagan husband. From his noble
176 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
words we see not only the high estimate put upon
marriage, but also how it was elevated by being imbued
with a Christian spirit. " How shall we fully describe
that marriage which the church cements, the oblation
confirms, and the benediction seals ; of which angels
carry back the tidings, and which the Father regards
as ratified? What a union is that of two believers,
who have one hope, one rule of life, and one service?
They are brother and sister, two fellow-servants ; there
is no difference of spirit or of flesh. Na}^ they are
truly two in one flesh. Where the flesh is one, one also
is the spirit. Together they pray, together they pros-
trate themselves, together they fast ; each teaching the
other, each exhorting the other, each sustaining the
other. They go together to the church of God, and
to the Supper of the Lord. They share each other's
tribulations, persecutions and refreshments. Neither
hides aught from the other, neither shuns the other,
neither is a burden to the other. The sick are visit-
ed freely, the poor supported. Alms are given with-
out constraint, sacrifices attended without scruple, the
daily devotions held without hinderance ; there is no
stealthy signing with the cross, no trembling greeting,
no mute benediction. In alternate song echo psalms
and hymns ; they vie with each other who best shall
praise their God. When Christ sees and hears such
things. He rejoices. To these He sends His own peace.
Where two are, there also is He. Where He is, there
the Evil One is not." In a house thus ordered, chil-
dren could grow up in the fear and admonition of the
Lord, and of such Christian families Clement of Alex-
andria justly says : " The children glory in their mother,
the husband in his wife, and she in them, and all in
God," ''
CHAP. III.] THE CHRISTIAN WIFE. 177
As the whole life of the people was founded upon
that of the family, so this in turn depended upon the
position held by the wife. It is true that in marriage
the husband is the head according to divine institution,
yet the character of domestic and family life is more
determined by the w^ife than by the husband. For this
reason no sound family life could exist in the pagan "^
world, because the wife did not occupy her true place.
Among the Greeks, she was the slave of her husband.
Among the Komans, she was more highly honored, yet
was destitute of rights apart from him. Full and
perfect worth as a human being Antiquity never con-
ceded to woman. Man alone possessed this dignity.
Christianity freed woman from this enslaved and un-
protected state by making her the equal of man in that
which is supreme, the relation to Christ and the king-
dom of God. They are "heirs together of the grace
ofliTe. " The husband and wife," so Clement of
Alexandria expresses this thought, " may share equally
in the same perfection." ^^ All the rest follows of itself.
Though the wife remains, as respects the natural life,
subordinate to her husband, she is no longer his ser-
vant, but his helper. " Thou didst not disdain that
Thy only begotten Son should be born of a woman,"
says the consecrating prayer for deaconesses in the
ancient church.^^ This fact, the birth of the Son of
God from a woman, gave to woman a new position.
It is true that as God created her to serve, so this
remained her calling in the church. She should not
teach publicly in the church, for that would invest her
with an authority which is not her lot. But since all is
service in the church, even the office of teacher and that
of ruler, there is implied in this no degradation of
178 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
woman, but only the assignment to her of a place
correspondmg to that divinely assigned her in creation.
Women emancipated from this divine order were a
product of Paganism, though even in Rome, in the
time of its decline, in sjDite cf the low estimate put
upon their sex, women who caroused with men through
the night and fought in gladiatorial armor, made them-
selves notorious. But as mothers who trained for the
church its standard-bearers, as deaconesses in the ser-
vice of mercy, as martyrs who vied with men for the
immortal crown, serving everywhere, praying, toiling,
enduring, women shared in the great conflict, and to
them surely, in no small degree, was the victory due.
Esteeming service to be her calling, and the service of
Christ as her highest honor, it followed of course that
a Christian matron no longer indulged in the extrava-
gant and unnatural luxury of dress which characterized
the high-born women of the time. She renounced all
such display when she became a Christian, and hence-
forth appeared, according to apostolic injunction, in
neat and simple attire, gladly allowing it to be said :
" She goes about in poorer garb since she became a
Christian," ^^ conscious that she was really much richer,
and that modesty, purity, simplicity and naturalness
were her most attractive ornaments. She had no fur-
ther occasion for her former splendor. She no longer
frequented the temples and the theatre, no
longer observed the pagan festivals. She ruled in
the quiet of home ; labored there with her hands,
cared for her husband and children, and cheerfully
and heartily dispensed the rites of hospitality."^ When
she went out she visited the sick, or went to church to
hear the word of God and to celebrate the Eucharist, —
CHAP, m.] SIMPLICITY OF CHBISTIAN WOMEN. 179
what need for finery there? And even if she called
upon her heathen friends, or accepted an invitation
to the homes of heathen relatives, she was not ashamed
even there to appear with entire simplicity. Going
thus, to use Tertullian's words, armed with her own
weapons, she showed that there is a difference between
the servants of God and the servants of the Devil,
and she was an example to others for their profiting,
that God, according to the word of the Apostle, might
be glorified in her body.^"
There appeared in the ancient church a strong oppo-
sition to the feminine luxury which had then reached
so unexampled an excess. TertuUian ^^ vehemently de-
claims, and not he alone but other church teachers as
well, against dyeing the hair, and all artificial head-
gear ! " The Lord has said : Which of you can make
one hair white or black ? They refute God ! Be-
hold! say they, instead of white or black hair we
make it auburn " (then the fashionable color) " so that
it is more attractive. Far from the daughters of Wis-
dom be such folly I What service does so much labor
spent in arranging the hair render to salvation ? Why
is no rest allowed to your hair, which must now be
bound, now loosed, now raised up, now pressed flat?
Some are anxious to force their hair into curls, others,
with seeming 3-et not commendable simplicity, to let it
fall loose and flying. Beside which you affix I know not
what enormities of false braids of hair, which now like a
cap or helmet cover the head, now are massed backward
toward the neck. I am very much mistaken if this is
not contending against the precepts of tlie Lord. Ho
has said that no man can add any thing to his stature.
If the enormity does not cause you shame, let the
180 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
impurity, lest you may be putting on a holy and Chris-
tian head the hair which has been taken from the head
of some one else, perhaps of an unclean person, guilty
perchance, and destined to hell. Nay rather, banish
from your free head all this slavery of ornamentation.
In that day of Christian exultation I shall see whether
you will rise with your white and red and yellow pig-
ments, and in all that parade of head-gear; whether
the angels will carry women thus tricked out to meet
Christ in the air. Keep yourselves now from those
things which are condemned. To-day let God see you
such as He will see you then."
Tertullian is zealous also, against the use of pig-
ments. It is a sin, he says, for they who put on rouge
desire to make themselves more beautiful than God has
made them, and thus censure the Artificer of all things.
He rejects purple garments, for if God had wished such
to be worn. He would have created sheep with purple
wool. Even garlands find no favor with Him. If God
had wished for garlands. He would have caused not
merely flowers but garlands to grow. This sounds
strange to us, and it is unquestionably one-sided, yet
it reveals a justifiable reaction against the unnatural-
ness of the luxury of that day. Tertullian contends
for simplicity and naturalness, in opposition to unnat-
uralness and artificiality. " That which grows is the
work of God, that which is artificial is the Devil's
work," is a proposition which he is never weary of
maintaining. Let us not forget all that among the
heathen was connected with these arts of the toilet,
and the horrors of licentiousness which they served.
A severe reaction was needed in order to restore the
simplicity and modesty of feminine life.
CHAP. III.] DEMANDS OF THE TIMES. 181
Lastly, let us consider the strenuousness of the
times, and their demands upon a Christian wife. They
were days of conflict, little suited to the cultivation of
the beautiful, even to a legitimate extent. It was
far more important to foster energy and courage.
" Pleasures must be discarded whose softness may
weaken the courage of faith. I know not whether
the wrist, accustomed to a bracelet, will endure if the
hard chain makes it stiff. I know not whether the leg
will suffer itself to be fettered in the gjYe^ instead of
by an anklet. I fear that the neck, hung with pearls
and emeralds, will give no room to the broadsword.
Wherefore, blessed of the Lord, let us meditate on
hardships and we shall not feel them ; let us relinquish
pleasant things and we shall not desire them; let us
stand ready to endure every violence, having nothing
which we may fear to leave behind. The days of
Christians are always, and now more than ever, not
golden but iron. The robes of martyrs are preparing,
they are held up by angel bearers. Go forth, then,
amply supplied with the cosmetics and ornaments of
prophets and apostles, taking your dazzling whiteness
from simplicity, and your ruddy hue from modesty;
painting your eyes with bashfulness, and your mouth
with silence ; inserting in your ears the words of God,
and fastening on your necks the yoke of Christ. Sub-
mit your head to your husbands, and you will be suffi-
ciently adorned. Busy your hands with spinning, and
keep your feet at home, and hand and foot will please
more than if arrayed in gold. Clothe yourselves with
the silk of uprightness, the fine linen of holiness, the
purple of modesty. Thus adorned you will have God
for your lover." *^
182 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
The heathen often sneered at the large number of
women in the Christian churches. They called Chris-
tianity in contempt a religion for old women and
children. But they were constrained to learn what
Christianity made of these women, and to acknowledge,
against their will, the difference between a heathen and
a Christian woman. In the one case a passion for
finery, vanity, coquetry beyond measure, in the other
simplicity and naturalness ; there immodesty and shame-
lessness, here chastity and propriety ; there women who
divided their time between making and displaying their
toilet, and who shone at the theatre and the circus, at
dinner-parties and festivals, here wives who dressed to
please their husbands, mothers who lived for their chil-
dren ; there an enervated sex, painted, and spoiled by
art, here heroines who paled not even at the sight of
the lions in the amphitheatre, and calmly bent their
necks to the sword. " What women there are among
the Christians ! " exclaimed the astonished pagan Liba-
nius.
To children, also, the Gospel first gave their rights.
They, too, in Antiquity were beyond the pale of the
laws. A father could dispose of his children at will.
If he did not wish to rear them, he could abandon or
kill them. The law of the Twelve Tables expressly
awarded to him this right. Plato and Aristotle ap-
proved of parents' abandoning weak and sickly chil-
dren, whom they were unable to support, or who could
not be of use to the State. Whoever picked up a child
who had been deserted could dispose of it, and treat it
as a slave. The father's power over his children was
limitless; life and death were at his disposal. Chris-
tianity, on the contrary, taught parents that their chil-
CHAP, m.] CHILDREN. FAMILY WORSHIP. 183
dren were a gift from God, a pledge intrusted to them ^
for which they were responsible to Him. It spoke not \
merely of the duties of children, but also of the duties |
of parents, and since it invested these, as representa- j
tives of God, with something of His majesty and honor, j
it appointed to them the lofty task of educating their
baptized offspring as children of God, and for His king-
dom. The baptism of children soon became customary,
and thus they shared from their earliest years in the
blessings of Christianity. The exposition of children
was looked upon by Christians as plainly unlawful, —
it was regarded and treated as murder. And though
paternal authority was highly esteemed, there could no
longer be any claim to an unconditional right over chil-
dren after men had learned to look upon them as God's
property.
Every Christian home now became a temple of God,
where His word was diligently read,^^ and prayer was
offered with fidelity and fervor. " If thou hast a wife,
pray with her," we read in one of the canons of the
Egyptian Church, " let not marriage be a hinderance to
prayer." ^^ The singing of psalms and hymns was often
heard. The day was opened with united reading of
the Scriptures, and prayer, concluding with the Halle-
lujah. Then all the members of the family gave each
other the kiss of peace, and went to their work. No
meal was taken without a blessing. Each repast, how-
ever simple, had something of the character of the holy
Supper, the Eucharist.*-^ The day was closed by again
joining in devotions. Under the name of " The Candle
Hymn," an ancient hymn has been preserved ^^ as it
was heard in Christian homes : —
184 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
" Joyful Light of holy Glory,
Of the Father everlasting, Jesus Christ !
Having come to the setting of the sun.
And seeing the evening light,
We praise the Father, and the Son,
And the Holy Spirit of God.
Thou art worthy to be praised
At all times, with holy voices,
Son of God, who hast given life;
Therefore the world glorifieth Thee."
No less did Christianity transform the relation be-
tween masters and servants. It gave liberty to the
slave. " The grace of God that bringeth salvation
hath appeared to all men" — before this announcement
slavery could not stand. Now it was proclaimed :
" There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond
nor free, there is neither male nor female, for ye are all
one in Christ Jesus" (Gal. iii. 28). "Christian justice
makes all equal who bear the name of man " is the ex-
plicit statement of an ancient teacher in the Church.^^
It is the Son who makes all free. As He delivered us
from sin and the bondage of the law, so from Him also
has come freedom for all the spheres of life. " Where
the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty " (2 Cor. iii.
17). While the heathen valued a man according to his
outward position, the Christian did not take this into
account, a man's real worth was independent of it.
Whether he was a slave, or a master, was merely acci-
dental. The slave might be in truth, that is inwardly,
free, and the master might be in reality, that is in-
wardly, a slave. There is only one real slavery, the
bondage of sin, and only one true liberty, freedom in
Christ.
For this reason the Christian Church did not in the
CHAP, m.] SLAVES. 185
least entertain the thought of immediate emancipation.
It recognized in this matter, as in others, the existing
laws, and taught the slave to respect them according to
the will of God. "Let every man abide in the same
calling wherein he was called," is the rule laid down
by the Apostle. Indeed spiritual freedom assumed
such supreme importance to Christians, that they often
wholly disregarded outward civil liberty. TertuUian,
in his treatise " On the Crown," alluding to the custom
of slaves' wearing chaplets at their manumission, ad-
dresses a Christian as follows : " The conferring of
secular liberty is an occasion of crowning. But you
have been already ransomed by Christ, and that at a
great price. How shall the world set free the servant
of another? Though it seems to be liberty, it will be
found to be bondage. All things in the world are
imaginary, nothing is real. For even then, as redeemed
by Christ, you were free from man, and now, although
liberated by man, you are Christ's servant." *^ Yet the
Church did not leave every thing as it was. The new
principle took effect, and wrought a moral transforma-
tion in the relation of master and slave. The treat-
ment of slaves by their Christian masters, and the
relation of Christian slaves to their masters, underwent
an immediate change. They looked upon each other
now as brethren, as Paul writes to Philemon of the
slave Onesimus, " that thou shouldest receive him, not
now as a servant, but above a servant, a brother be-
loved." As members of the church there was no differ-
ence between them. They came to the same house of
God, adored one God, acknowledged one Lord, prayed
and sang together, ate of the same bread, and drank
from the same cup. This must have transformed the
186 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
disposition of a master toward liis slaves. He could
not possibly continue to treat as a thing one who was
his brother in Christ. The Church, it is true, would
not receive a slave without a certificate of good conduct
from his Christian master, bui when this condition was
complied with he became a full member without any
limitations. He was even eligible to its offices, not ex-
cepting that of bishop. Not infrequently it occurred
that a slave was an elder in the same church of which
his master was only a member.
The church bestowed labor on both slaves and mas-
ters. It exhorted the slaves to obedience ; they were
not to make the knowledge that their masters were
their brethren a pretext for disobedience, but only a
reason for more faithful service. According to pagan
conceptions slaves were incapable of morality. The
church trained them for virtue, and not unsuccessfully.
There were many slaves who, in extremely difficult
circumstances, attested the reality of their Christian
life with fidelity and great endurance. Even among
the martyrs there was an unbroken line of slaves. The
fairest crown fell to them, as well as to the free. Mas-
ters, on the other hand, were exhorted to love their
slaves, to be just to them and gentle. " Thou shalt not
issue orders with bitterness to thy man-servant nor thy
maid-servant, who hope in the same God," ^^ is the in-
junction of the Epistle of Barnabas. Harsh treatment
of slaves was considered a sufficient ground for excom-
munication.^^ The slave should not be urgent for man-
umission. " Am I a slave, I endure servitude. Am I
free, I do not make a boast of my free birth." These
words of Tatian^^ express the disposition which was
cultivated in the slave. If he could not obtain his free-
CHAP. III.] TREATMENT OF SLAVES. 187
dom, he was to bear his lot and be content, knowing
that he possessed true liberty. The demand for re-
demption by the church was especially prohibited.^^
The church would not minister to the merely natural
desires of the slaves for liberty. Yet it deemed it a
praise-worthy act for a master to emancipate a slave .^*
It did not prescribe to any one the duty of enfranchise-
ment ; such an act should be voluntary. But it gladly
recognized emancipation as a work of Christian love,
and manumissions often occurred. Many, when they
became Christians, set all their slaves at liberty on
the day of their baptism, or on the feast days of the
church, especially at Easter, that they might in this
way testify their gratitude for the grace which they had
received. It is narrated of a rich Roman, in the time
of Trajan, that having become a Christian he presented
their freedom, at an Easter festival, to all his slaves, of
whom there were twelve hundred and fifty .^^ After the
third century, it was customary to perform the act of
manumission in the church, before the priest and the
congregation. The master led his slaves by the hand
to the altar ; there the deed of emancipation was read
aloud, and at the close the priest pronounced the bene-
diction. Thus formal expression was given to the
thought that they owed to the church their freedom.
This appeared to be, as it was, the protectress and
dispenser of liberty. The freedmen were truly free.
While so many of those whom heathen vanity, or love
of gain, had liberated, merely exchanged one kind of
slavery for another, and, thrust without means of sup-
port into a society in which labor had no honor, and
left to themselves and destitute of moral stamina, only
swelled the proletariat^ those who were set free in the
188 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
Christian community had a wholly different position.
Their former masters esteemed it their duty to help
and counsel them as Christian brethren, and thus they
did not find themselves isolated, but in the midst of a
communion which instructed them in the right use of
their liberty, and trained them to be active and useful
men.
For Christians now put a very different estimate
upon labor. It no longer seemed to them, as to the
heathen, a disgrace, but an honor; not an unworthy
bondage, but something commanded by God for all
men. Indeed the Lord Himself had been a carpenter,
and the son of a carpenter. The Apostles, too, had
been laborers, Peter a fisherman, Paul a tent-maker.
The Fathers often emphasized the fact that manual
laborers had a better knowledge of God than heathen
philosophers.'^^ "You will find artisans among us,"
says Athenagoras,^'' ''who, if they cannot with words
prove the benefit of our doctrine, yet prove it by
deeds." The circumstance that Christians were shut
out from so many employments — e.g. those of soldiers,
public officers, assistants at services in the temples —
by which the heathen gained a livelihood, contributed
to increase the honor which they gave to manual labor.
The so-called Apostolic Constitutions expressly refer to
this kind of labor, and exhort all church members to
industry: "For the Lord our God hates the slothful.
For no one of those who worship God ought to be
idle." ^^ The Bishop was also enjoined to be solicitous
to procure work for artisans who were without employ-
ment.^9 The greatest sages of Antiquity, Plato and
Aristotle, declare labor degrading to a freeman; the
Apostle exhorts that every one labor with quietness,
CHAP. III.] LABOR. 189
and eat his own bread, and lays down categorically the
principle : He who does not work, shall not eat. From
this simple proposition has grown a new world that has
wrought greater things than any Plato and Aristotle
ever saw.
The correlate, among the heathen, to contempt of
labor was the passion for shows. Bread and games I
was the oft-heard signal. Men wished to be supported
without labor b}^ the State, and to be amused with
games at the public expense. The watchword of the
Christians was: Pray and labor. From this point of
view we understand the decision with which the ancient
church condemned the exhibitions in the theatre, the
circus, and the arena. Labor performed "in quietness "
presents a picture precisely opposite to that offered by
the circus and the amphitheatre. There was no quiet-
ness, but passionate excitement. " God has enjoined on
us," says Tertullian,^^ " to deal calmly and gently with
the Holy Spirit, Whose nature is tender and sensitive,
and not to disquiet Him with rage, or anger, or grief.
How shall this be made to accord with the shows ? For
there is no show without vehement agitation of mind."
"In the circus," he says, "excitement presides. See
the people coming to it, already tumultuous, already
passion-blind, already agitated about their bets. The
praetor is too slow for them ; their eyes are ever
rolling with the lots in his urn. Then they wait
anxiously for the signal, there is one shout of common
madness. He has thrown it, they say, and announce to
each other what was seen at once by all. I have evi-
dence of their blindness, they do not see what is
thrown. They think it a cloth, but it is the likeness of
the devil cast headlong from on high. From thence
190 CONDUCT OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
therefore they go on to fiuy, and passions, and dissen-
sions, and whatever is unlawful for priests of peace.
Then there are curses without just cause of hatred ;
there are cries of applause with nothing to merit them."
" Will one," he asks in another place, " at that time
think upon God? He will have, I suppose, peace in
his mind while contending for a charioteer." Besides,
every thing there was purposeless, the opposite of ear-
nest work ; vain were the racings, still more vain the
throwing and leaping. It was profitless, in Tertullian's
eyes, to spend so much labor in training the body to
the suppleness of a serpent, and for all the arts of the
arena. Still more decidedly would the gladiatorial
sports be condemned, the baiting of wild animals, the
capital punishments in the amphitheatre. There " with
murder they comfort themselves over death." In short,
the amphitheatre was the temple of all evil spirits.
All such shows a Christian avoided. He had, as
Cyprian re^Dresents, other and better spectacles. He
had the beauty of the world to look upon and admire,
the rising of the sun, the expanse of seas, the earth,
the air, and all their tenants, the constant succession of
sunshine and rain. He had in the Scriptures the great
deeds of God, the lofty spectacle of the conflict be-
tween Christ and the devil, the devil and the whole
power of the world lying prostrate under the feet of
Christ. " This is an exhibition which is given by
neither praetor nor consul, but by Him who is alone,
and before all things, and above all things, and of
whom are all things, the Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ."
CHAP. III.] THE TRUE END OF LABOR. 191
IV. BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS.
When St. Paul exhorts (Eph. iv. 28): "Let him
that stole steal no more, but rather let him labor, work-
ing with his hands the thing which is good," he adds,
"that he may have to give to him that needeth." The \
true end of labor was thus for the first time pointed
out. It is not a mere selfish acquisition of one's own
livelihood, still less the obtainment of riches and enjoy-
ment. On the contrary we are to labor in order to
serve our brethren, and to find the noblest reward of
toil in the exercise of compassion. The primitive Chris-
tians adhered to this principle. Working with their
hands they helped their brethren with the products of
their labor. They, the poor, in this sense also, made
many rich. The church in later years increased in
wealth and dispensed more alms, its institutions for
the care of the poor became more magnificent, but at
no other time has its exercise of charity been relatively
so large, and, all things considered, so pure, as in the
period of conflict. Richly was the word of our Lord ^
fulfilled : " By this shall all men know that ye are my
disciples, if ye have love one to another." The heathen
recognized this sign. With amazement they gazed
upon this new strange life of love, and it is not too
much to say that the victory of the church like that of
Jier Lord was a victory of ministering love.
{ This was something wholly foreign to the heathen.
y " A new commandment I give unto you," thus does our
^ Lord introduce the commandment of love. Pagan an-
' tiquity was thoroughly egoistic. Charity, compassion-
ate love, was no virtue of the ancient world, says
Boeckh, one of the highest authorities respecting it.
192 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
Every one sought his own interests regardless of others,
and ignorant of any life but the present, knew no other
aim than happiness which in its essence was only en-
joyment, whether coarser or more refined. Self was
the centre around which every thing revolved. A man
of the ancient world despised whatever he drew into
his service, and hated every thing which opposed him.
This egoism was limited only by the egoism of the State.
The individual, in order to be happy, needed the State.
It was also essential to his happiness that he should live
in a well-ordered State. The individual was of account
only as a member of the whole body, as a citizen.
Man was completely a (^mov TtohrrAov, a political being, all
virtues were only political. On the monument of ^s-
chylus was inscribed merely that he had shared in the
fight at Marathon, not a word about his having been a
great poet. The State itself, moreover, was built upon
thoroughly selfish foundations. Whoever was not a
citizen of the State, was in reality not a man-; he was
a barbarian, against whom every thing was lawful. No
bond united nations ; each had before it an open course
for its selfishness. It had the right to subject to itself
other nations and to make them its slaves. There were
no duties to the conquered. Justice to the weak, com-
passion to the oppressed was unknown to Antiquity.
We are actually startled when we contemplate this
consistent and thorough-going egoism. " A man is a
wolf to a man whom he does not know," says Plautus,®^
and the whole life of Antiquity is a proof of this.
The views even of Plato, the noblest of sages, respect-
ing the State, were thoroughly egoistic. All beggars
must be driven out. No one shall take an interest in
the poor, when they are sick. If the constitution of a
CHAP. III.] THE NEW COMMANDMENT OF LOVE. 193
laboring man cannot withstand sickness, the physician
may abandon him without scruple, he is good for
nothing except to be experimented on. " Can you con-
descend so far that the poor do not disgust you ? " asks
Quinctilian. The aid bestowed — this was the thought
— is of no help to the poor (i.e., it does not make them
rich, the only happiness) ; it simply prolongs their
wretchedness. " He deserves ill of a beggar," we read
in Plautus,^^ "who gives him food and drink. For
that which is given is thrown away, and the life of the
beggar is protracted to his misery." We need at most
do good to those who have done good to us ; those who
injure us we may hate, indeed it is our duty to hate
them. According to Aristotle, anger and revenge are
lawful passions. Without them men would lack power-
ful incentives to good. Even Cicero's ideal rises no
higher. "The good man is to perform even to a
stranger all the service that he can, and to harm no
one even when provoked by injustice ; but the helping
whom he can is to be limited by this, that he shall not
himself suffer injury thereby." ^^ Of self-denial, of a
love which gives more than it can dejprive itself of
without harm, of love even to one's enemies, Cicero has
as little a presentiment as the rest of Antiquity. It
discoursed indeed gladly and much of magnanimity, of
generosity, of hospitality, but behind all these virtues
there was still only egoism. Magnanimity and the
much-praised mercy were at bottom only aristocratic
pride, which looked down with contempt upon others,
and seemed to itself far too great to be injured by
them. Liberality was exercised toward friends and
fellow-citizens, not toward all men; it was practised
because it created fame and esteem, and was useful to
194 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
the State. Hospitality was not a common virtue ; it be-
longed exclusively to the rich, who entertained each
other with careful regard to rank and position. We
need only compare it with Christian hospitality in the
earliest churches, where the poor man was as welcome
as the rich, where the feet of all the saints were washed,
and its splendor fades away. Even when Seneca speaks,
as he often does, of benevolence, the egoism shines
through. One must give without any prompting of
the heart, with a perfectly tranquil spirit. Compassion
is at bottom only weakness.^^
Thus the ancient world had no knowledge of true
benevolence. To be sure, as we have seen, it was not
without public spirit, nor did it lack gifts and bequests
for purposes of public utility. There was a distribu-
tion of corn; and not merely in Rome, but in the
provinces as well, care was taken, and on the largest
scale, that the people should have their gratifications
and sports. But all this expenditure bore a different
character from Christian benevolence. Love to man
was not the impelling motive. It was an offering
brought to vanity, to avarice, or to policy; it was a
ransom which wealth paid to poverty in order not to
be disturbed by it. We seek in vain for true regard
for penury, and heart-felt compassion. The statesman,
or the Emperor, who ordered the means of life to be
distributed, acted from no such considerations, and the
rich Roman who caused the sj^ortula to be given to his
clients had no genuine feeling of sympathy for them.
They promoted the splendor of his house, and were
paid for it. Consequently the extravagantly rich pres-
ents which were made brought no blessing. They de-
graded both those who gave, and those who received
CHAP, m.] THE NEW COIVIMANDMENT OP LOVE. 195
them. As love was wanting on the one side, so was
gratitude on the other.
This judgment will not be changed by the fact that
individual acts of charity to the poor and needy oc-
curred in the pagan world. We ought not to imagine
that the natural feeling of compassion was wholly want-
ing. When, during the reign of Tiberius, forty-six
thousand persons were either killed or wounded by the
fall of an amphitheatre at Fidenza, the Roman aristoc-
racy sent physicians, medicines and food to the suffer-
ers, and even received some of them into their own
houses.^^ Titus exhibited a noble activity in aiding the
unfortunate victims of the great calamities which befell
his reign, the fearful outbreak of Vesuvius which de-
stroyed Herculaneum and Pompeii, the fire at Rome
and the pestilence which raged there. It need scarcely
be mentioned, also, that .many gifts were made to
beggars who sat in the streets and especially before the
temples. What, however, was wanting was a regulated '
and systematic benevolence. This did not exist where |
we should at first expect to meet with it, in the associa-
tions. Natural as it would seem to have been for the
burial-clubs, whose object was to secure for their mem-
bers a respectable interment with the appropriate reli-
gious rites, or for the confraternities of artisans, and
many similar societies, to furnish assistance to their
needy members, as was done by the guilds of the Middle
Ages, we find in fact little or no such provision. Even
the many bequests to the members of such clubs were
not given for the benefit of the poor and needy in them,
but on the contrary were gifts in which the officers of
the society, or even all its members, shared in order
that they might honor the memory of the donor. A
196 BENEVOLENCE OP THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
real care of the poor, as now understood, was unknown.
Hospitals existed only for soldiers, gladiators and slaves.
The manual laborer who was without means, the poor
man who was not a slave, found no place of refuge.
Without consolation, without hope for the life to come,
he was also without material help in sickness. Espe-
cially in time of epidemics did the ancient egoism
appear without disguise. Men feared death, and took
no interest in their own sick, but drove them out of the
house, and left them to their fate. The ancient worldl
was a world without love. There was much that was!
admirable in it; it produced great men and heroes,
but this bond of perfectness was wanting. Whence
should love have come? Religion taught none, and
awakened none. It taught love to one's native coun-
try, obedience to the laws, bravery in war, sacrifice for
the greatness and honor of the State — but not pliilan-
thropy. The ancient man was the natural man in his
richest development. But the natural man is an ego-
ist, and remains such until love from above transforms
him.
It has done this. The life of the Christian Church
is the actual proof. It was a life of love. Nothing
more astonished the heathen, nothing was more incom-
prehensible to them. " Behold," they exclaimed, " how
they love one another." ^^ Among themselves Chris-
tians called each other brethren, and this fraternal
name was no mere word. They lived as brothers.
The kiss with which they greeted each other at the
celebration of the Holj^ Supper, was no empty form;
the church was in reality one family, all its members
children of one Heavenly Father. Each served the
other, each prayed for all the rest. They had all
CHAP, m.] EGOISM. CHRISTIAN LOVE. 197
things in common. Even the stranger who came from
far, if he but brought a letter of recommendation from
his church which certified him as a^ Christian, was
received and treated as a brother. " They love each
other without knowing each other ! " says a pagan in
astonishment. This was indeed the most direct antith-
esis to the heathen saying : " Man is a wolf to a man
whom he does not know." This fraternal love ex-
panded to a universal love of man. The church, born
of love, and living in love, was the appropriate organ
for the practice of love. It interested itself first in
those of its members who needed help in any way, then
it went beyond them to embrace in its love those who
stood without. For these were to be won for the
church. Love worked in a missionary way. It ex-
cluded none, as the grace which kindled it excluded
no one, not even enemies and persecutors.
Without doubt individual members of the churches
performed by themselves many works of benevolence.
Christians made earnest with the word of our Lord:
" Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that
would borrow of thee turn not thou away." One of
the earliest of the Fathers, Barnabas, exhorts : " Thou
shalt not hesitate to give, nor murmur when thou
givest." *^^ " Why do you select persons ? " says Lactan-
tius. " He is to be esteemed by you as a man, whoever
implores you, because he considers you a man."^^ Ter-
tullian shows us the obstacles which a Christian woman,
living with a pagan husband, had to encounter in her
acts of benevolence. "Who," he asks, "would allow
his wife, for the sake of visiting the brethren, to go
round from street to street to other men's, and indeed
to all the poorer cottages? Who will suffer her to
198 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
creep into a prison to kiss the chains of a martyr? If
a stranger brother arrives, what hospitality for him in
an alien's home.? If bounty is to be distributed to any,
the granary, the storehouses are closed against her." ^*
Assuredly, this manifold and rich benevolence of the
Christian woman was not exercised merely by direc-
tion of the church. It was expressly enunciated that
the official benevolence of the deaconess should not
exclude the private charity of the woman. Every
woman should be in this respect a deaconess. "If
any one of you would do good without being a presby-
teress or deaconess, do it according to your inclination,
for such deeds are the most precious treasures of the
Lord."''" That alms were also distributed in the freest
way upon the streets is evident from a remark of
Tertullian's, upbraiding the heathen : " our compassion
gives more in the streets than your religion in the
temples." "^^
Such personal charity withdraws itself from observa-
tion. The Lord alone knows what was then done by
individuals, history has not preserved it. In her record
appears only the charity practised by the church, and
this, all things considered, is of incomparably greater
importance. Precisely here is to be found what was
new, what was higher — the existence of a communion
whose vocation was to exercise compassion. From the
beginning, from the days of the church of Jerusalem,
the practice of charity was as necessary an activity of
church life as the preaching of the Word and the ad-
ministration of the sacraments ; and for the one as Avell
as for the others the church provided organs and ordi-
nances. The means for its charities flowed to it from
the free-will offerings of its members. The principle of
CHAP, m.] PRIVATE AND ORGANIZED CHARITY. 199
entire voluntariness, which the Apostle (2 Cor. ix. 7)
had already emphasized, was most rigidly adhered to.
" Such as are prosperous and willing," says Justin,
"give what they will, each according to his choice." ""^
"Each of us," says TertuUian, "deposits a small gift
when he likes, but only if it be his pleasure, and only
if he be able, for no one is under compulsion." '^ And
Irenseus rightly sees in this freedom the higher position
of the New Testament. "There were," he says, "obla-
tions among the Jewish people ; there are such in the
church : but with this difference, that there they were
offered by slaves, here by freemen. The Jews were
constrained to a regular payment of tithes ; Christians,
who have received liberty, assign all their possessions
to the Lord, bestowing freely not the lesser portions of
their property, since they have the hope of greater
things." "^^ So strictly was this principle carried out
that, when the Gnostic Marcion separated from the
church, the two hundred thousand sesterces which he
had given at liis baptism were returned to him.'^ When
the children of a man who had bequeathed to the
church in his will a certain sum, refused to pay it,
Cyprian, though he reminded them of their duty to
fulfil the purpose of their father, at the same time
declared, as though it were a matter of course, that
they were at perfect liberty to deliver the money or
not. As the church would have no forced gifts, so it
would have none from persons who did not in spirit
belong to her, who did not give from love or from
property rightly acquired. The Apostolic Constitu-
tions contain upon this subject ver}^ definite directions.''^
The usual form of giving was that of the offerings,
or oblations, at the Lord's Supper. The communicants
200 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS, [book i.
brought gifts, chiefly natural products. From these
was taken what was necessary for the bread and wine
of communion, and the remainder went to the support
of the clergy and the poor. The names of the offerers
were inscribed on tablets, the so-called diptychs, and
were mentioned in the prayer. For deceased persons
their relatives brought gifts on the anniversary of
their death, a beautiful custom which vividly exhibited
the connection between the church above and the
church below." Even those who had fallen asleep still
continued, as it were, to serve the church. Giving was
practised also in connection with special occasions, joy-
ful occurrences, the day of christening. Cyprian sold
his gardens, and made a present of the proceeds on the
day of his baptism.'^^ Beside this there stood in the
place of meeting a box for the poor (called by Tertul-
lian arca^ by Cyprian corhan)^ in which was placed
every week a free-will offering. This was evidently an
imitation of the custom which had grown up in the
clubs, and was legally established. Every member paid
monthly a regular tax. The Christians did likewise,
only in their case the contribution was voluntary, and
was not expended, as frequently by the associations,
in feasting, but rather in providing for the poor."^^
Were larger means needed, a general collection was
taken up, to which ever}^ one contributed from the
avails of his labor. Poor persons, who had nothing,
fasted in order to give what they saved. Sometimes a
general fast was appointed in the church, and the pro-
ceeds expended for benevolent purposes.^*^ " Blessed,"
says Origen, "is he who fasts to feed a poor person," ^^
and, indeed, no more beautiful way of giving alms can
be imagined.
CHAP, m.] OFFERINGS AND COLLECTIONS. 201
What the church received it immediately expended.
Nothing was converted into capital. Present needs
were great enough, and care for the future could be
trustfully committed to love. The necessities of the
times, also, compelled such a course. In the midst of
the persecutions church property was insecure. The
best mode of preserving it was to give it away. When
the persecution under Decius broke out, Cyprian di-
vided the entire sum which had been collected for the
poor among the presbyters and deacons for distribution.
When, afterwards, there was need, he directed that the
deficit should be met from his private property .^^ When
Bishop Sixtus II. was taken prisoner, his deacon, Lau-
rentius, assembled the poor of the church, and distrib-
uted the whole of the church property among them.
He even sold the holy vessels in order to give the
proceeds to the poor.^^
The Bishop superintended the care of the poor,^
assisted by the deacons and deaconesses. The names
of those who were to be regularly supported were en-
rolled in a register, after careful examination into their
circumstances. When this had been done, they received
aid.^^ To this class belonged those who could no
longer earn a livelihood, or who by joining the church
had lost their means of support because they had fol-
lowed a trade or business which the church did not
allow.^*^ Yet it was strictly maintained that every one
should labor to the extent of his ability. To those who
had been obliged to relinquish their business, some
other occupation was assigned, whenever possible, and
they were not permitted to decline this, even if it was
inferior to their former occupation. If they were un-
willing to work, they received no aid. For conversion
202 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
to the church was not to be made by idlers a source
of worldly advantage.
A special class of beneficiaries consisted of widows,®'
for whose maintenance the Apostle gives particular
directions. If their life was passed in reputable widow-
hood, they were highly honored in the church, and were
cared for during life. In return they served the church,
particularly in the education of children. Destitute
orphans ®^ were reared by widows or deaconesses, under
the supervision of the bishop. The boys learned a trade,
and when grown up received the tools necessary for its
prosecution. The girls, unless they joined the number
of those who remained unmarried, the deaconesses for
instance, were married each to some Christian brother.
Often children who had been abandoned by the hea-
then,^^ — and the number of such was large, — were
received and given a Christian education together with
the orphans. Even slaves^ were also accepted, their
freedom purchased with the church funds, and help
afforded them to earn a living. Or, where captives had
fallen into the hands of the barbarians, a ransom was
paid for their liberation. Those who had been impris-
oned on account of their faith needed special care.
They were visited in their prisons, and provided for so
far as possible. Cyprian, in his letters written while in
exile, is unwearied in commending them again and
again to the watchful attention of the deacous.^^
This benevolence extended beyond the bounds of the
particular church. One church helped another.^^ Thus,
as early as the Apostles' day, the Gentile churches aided
the impoverished church of Jerusalem. So the church
at Rome, under Soter (A.D. 150), sent rich gifts into
the provinces in order to alleviate there the misery of
CHAP, m.] SCOPE OF THIS BENEVOLENCE. 203
a famine.^^ At a time when the unity of the church
was not manifested in outward organic forms, the
church was held and bound together by its one faith
and its one love. An active benevolence extended its
net over the whole broad empire, and wherever a Clms-
tian went, even to the borders of barbarous tribes,
and beyond these, too, he knew that he was near to
brethren who were ready at any moment to minister to
to his need.
The means that were available for this care of the
poor must have been very considerable ; and when we
consider that the churches in the first centuries were re-
cruited chiefly from the lower classes, it seems the more
remarkable that such resources could have been accu-
mulated. From the earliest age, it is true, we have
no information as to the scope of the benevolence of
individual churches, but judging by what we know
of a later time, it was, even in respect to merely pe-
cuniary gifts, very large. Cyprian easily collected in
his church five thousand dollars, in order to help the
Numidian bishop in ransoming prisoners.^* Somewhat
later, in the time of the Decian persecution, the Roman
church supported fifteen hundred poor persons, widows,
and children.^^ Still later, the church in Antioch,
numbering, perhaps, one hundred thousand members,
had three thousand beneficiaries.^^ Still more, worthy
of admiration is the spirit in which this labor of love
was prosecuted. Among the heathen the poor, the
weak, the oppressed had been despised. The principle
was established, that a man is to be valued according to
his possessions. In the church it was said : Blessed are
the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. In a
certain sense every one must become poor in order
204 BENEVOLENCE OF THE CHRISTIANS. [book i.
to gain tliis kingdom. External wealth and outward
poverty, are merely accidental. The godly poor are
in truth rich; the godless rich in reality poor. "It
is not the census," says one of the fathers, "that
makes rich, but the soul." ^' Conscious of having be-
come rich through the lowly Jesus, the church looked
upon the poor as her treasures. In them she served the
Lord. When, after the martyrdom of Bishop Sixtus,
his deacon was required to point out and surrender the
treasures of the church, he called all its poor together
and showed them to the prefect of the city, with the
words ; " These are the treasures of the church." ^^ A
church which has such riches must conquer. In its
benevolence it has the means of the purest propaganda
— means which in the end must win even its opponents.
This benevolence made a deeper impression .on the
heathen because they were not excluded by the Chris-
tians from their love. " Our religion," says Justin,®^
"requires us to love not only our own, but also
strangers and even those who hate us." " All men,"
says Tertullian,^^"^ " love their friends. Christians alone
love their enemies." This was not mere words. When
in the time of Cyprian a great pestilence raged in
Carthage, and the heathen abandoned their sick, and,
instead of burying their bodies, cast them out on the
streets, the bishop convened the church and made these
representations to them : " If we show kindness only
to our own, we do no more than publicans and heathen.
As Christians who would become perfect we must over-
come evil with good, love our enemies, as the Lord
exhorts, and pray for our persecutors. Since we are
born of God we must show ourselves to be children of
our Father who continually causes His sun to rise, and
CHAP. III.] LOVE TOWARD ENEMIES. 205
from time to time gives showers to nourish the seed,
exhibiting all these kindnesses not only to His people,
but to aliens also." Upon his summons the church
engaged in the work. Some gave monej^ others shared
in the labor, and soon the dead were buried. ^^^ So
was it, also, at Alexandria, in connection with a pes-
tilence in the time of the Emperor Gallienus. While
the heathen fled, while the sick were thrust out of
doors, and the half-dead thrown into the streets, the
Christians cared for all, spared not themselves in the
service of the sick and dying, and many brethren, even
presbyters and deacons, sacrificed their lives in such
ministry. ^^- And they did this immediately after they
had been most horribly persecuted by the heathen, and
while the sword still hung daily over their heads.^*^^
V. MARTYRDOM.
With love went sorrow hand in hand. The witness
of word, of conduct, of love was perfected in the
witness of blood, in martyrdom. The power of the
martyr's death lay precisely in this fact, tliat this event
was the completion of the testimony given by his life.
For it is not suffering in itself considered, it is not
merely the martyr's pangs and death-throes which give
to martyrdom its value, but the disposition in which all ^
this is endured. Not every martyrdom is a victory for
the church, but only those which are genuine and pure.
It is first of all essential to genuineness and purity
of martyrdom, that the disposition and demeanor of
the martyr be free from insubordination toward the
State, and the magistracy ordained b}' God. The Chris-
tian has to recognize at all times, and in every particu-
lar, the civil government which is over him, and to
206 MARTYRDOM. [book i.
honor all its laws and ordinances as proceeding from
his rulers, even when these laws and ordinances are
contrary to God's Word. In such a case he cannot,
indeed, honor them by obeying them, for he must obey
God and not man, but by willingly and patiently sub-
mitting to whatever penalties for this reason the laws
award to him. Then he honors the government and
the laws by suffering, and in truth a man cannot more
fully attest his regard for the law than by sacrificing to
it his life. And every act of insubordination toward
the government, every failure to show respect to the
laws which it enacts, is to the Christian a sin. When
he suffers not for evil doing, but for well doing (1 Pet.
ii. 20, iii. 17), he suffers simply for Christ's sake.
Then it may be said : " Who is he that will harm you
if ye be followers of that which is good?" (1 Pet.
iii. 13.)
The early Christians preserved this purity of martyr-
dom most solicitously. Always and everywhere they
showed their readiness to honor the Emperor, and to
obey him in all things as dutiful subjects, save when
he commanded them to forsake Christ, and to worship
idols. Nowhere is to be found a trace of disobedience,
or even of want of respect toward the magistracy, and
they suffered patiently the penalties awarded them by
its authority on account of their confession, praying
even in death for the welfare of the Emperor. Innu-
merable are the times when the martyrs, under the ago-
nies of torture, testified before their judges, at the place
of execution, that they were willing to obey the Em-
peror, but to worship him, to strew incense to him, that
they could not do. The Apologists often protested that
the Christians were obedient subjects who made it a
CFAP. ni.] PURITY OF MARTYRDOM. 207
matter of conscience not to break the laws of the State
in the smallest particulars. "Therefore I will honor
the Emperor," says Theophilus in his work addressed to
Autolyciis, " not worshipping him but praying for him.
I worship the true God only, knowing that the Empe-
ror is made by Him. You will say then to me : Why
do you not worship the Emperor ? Because he is not
made to be worshipped, but to be reverenced with lawful
honor. For he is not God, but a man, appointed by
God, not to be worshipped, but to judge justly." ^^^
Tertullian calls the attention of the heathen to the
fact,^*^^ that the Christians were in a condition to make
resistance, and to acquire by violence liberty of faith,
since their numbers v/ere so great, constituting almost
a majority in every city. Yet they obeyed the injunc-
tions of patience taught in their divine religion, and
lived in quietness and soberness, recognizable in no
other way than by the amendment of their former lives.
The Christians, he rightly points out, were truer and
more obedient subjects of the Emperor than the hea-
then. In irony he exclaims: "We acknowledge the
faithfulness of the Romans to the Caesars ! No con-
spiracy has ever broken out, no Emperor's blood has
ever fixed a stain in the Senate or even in the palace ;
never has their majesty been dishonored in the prov-
inces. And yet the soil of Syria still exhales the odor
of their corpses, and Gaul has not yet washed away
their blood in the waters of its Rhone." ^"^^ Then he
sets in contrast the fidelity and obedience of the Chris-
tians, who join in no intrigues nor riots, who pray for
the Emperor whatever his character, who supplicate for
him from God a long life, a peaceful reign, security in
his palace, brave armies, loyalty in the Senate, virtue
MARTYRDOM. [book t.
among the people, peace in the whole world. "So
that," he concludes, " I might say on valid grounds that
the Emperor is more ours than yours, for our God has
appointed him." ^^^ Even in the midst of the excite-
ment of a bloody perse(3ution the most conscientious
care was observed lest any thing should be done which
might occasion the semblance of disobedience. Thus,
for example, Cyprian ^^^ expressed disapproval in the
strongest terms when some persons who had been ban-
ished on account of their Christian faith returned with-
out the express permission of the authorities. "For
how great a disgrace," he says, " is suffered by your
name when one returns to that country whence he was
banished, to perish when arrested, not now as being a
Christian, but as being a criminal." Even to a perse-
cuting government, even to its injustice and cruelty the
Christian should oppose nothing but quiet and patient
suffering.
This purity of martyrdom was most fittingly ex-
pressed by the martyrs' dying with praise and thanks-
giving. " A Christian even when he is condemned
gives thanks," ^"^ — the truth of these words is often
attested in the Acts of the Martyrs. " O Lord God
Almighty," prayed Polycarp as he stood on the funeral
pile, "Father of Thy beloved and blessed Son Jesus
Christ by whom we have received the knowledge
of Thee, the God of angels and powers, and of the
whole creation and of all the race of the righteous who
live before Thee, I bless Thee that Thou hast counted
me worthy of this day and this hour, that I should
have a part in the number of Thy witnesses, in the
cup of Thy Christ." ^^° When the Scillitan martyrs in
Numidia (about 200 A. D.) received their sentence of
CHAP. III.] PURITY OF MARTYRDOM. 209
death, they praised God, and when they reached the
place of execution, falling on their knees, they gave
thanks anew.^^^ We often hear, also, that like the first /
martyr Stephen they prayed for their enemies. A
Palestinian Christian named Paulus prayed, before he
received the death-stroke, that God would lead all the
heathen to faith and salvation, and he forgave the
judge who had condemned him, and the executioner
who carried the sentence into effect.^^^ Pionius, a mar-
tyr in Smyrna, was heard supplicating, from the flames
of the pyre, for the Emperor, for his judges, and for all
the heathen. When an audible Amen was on his lips,
the flames smote together above him, and ended his
life."3
We hear no expressions of revenge, nor of anger, no
maledictions, no curse. Even among the inscriptions
of the Catacombs nothing of the sort appears. No-
where is judgment invoked on their persecutors. Only
one sigh is recorded, iu the Catacomb of Callistus:
"O sorrowful times, when we cannot even in caves
escape our foes." ^^^ Even pictures of persecution (with
but one exception, that of the trial of a Christian, in
the cemetery of Praetextatus) are not to be found.
Sjmibolic representations only are common, — Daniel
in the lions' den, the Three Children in the fiery fur-
nace, Elijah ascending to heaven in the chariot of fire.^^^
When we consider the burning hatred with which the
heathen persecuted the Christians, the inhuman cruel-
ties which were allowed (enough concerning these will
be said), we learn to admire the purity of a martyr-
dom which even in this respect followed the word of
the apostle : " Recompense to no man evil for evil ! "
and the admonition of the Lord : " Pray for them
which despitefuliy use you, and persecute you."
210 MARTYRDOM. [book i.
I In this purity of martyrdom lay its power. If the
I Christians had allowed themselves to be tempted to
\ offer open resistance to the persecuting State, they had
;been lost. The State would have ground them to
^pieces with its gigantic power. If they had been en-
ticed into wrath and revenge their strength would
have been broken, their consciences stained, and their
martyrdom deprived of its power to act upon the con-
science. For the might of true martyrdom lies in this,
that it not merely turns the edge of opposition by its
patience, but also, as a testimony, touches the con-
i science. Not infrequently it came to pass that the
■ persecutors themselves, moved by this irresistible testi-
mony, were converted at the place of execution, and
became Christians.
The genuineness of Christian martyrdom was proved,
secondly, by its freedom from enthusiasm and fanati-
cism. Enthusiasm is an impure flame which blazes up
quickly and is as quickly extinguished. It could not
have accomplished any thing in the conflict we are
considering, it would have been quickly defeated by
the power of the Roman State, and it could not have
produced the moral effects which martyrdom did. Fa-
naticism has never yet built up the Church, and when
it has had successes they have been merely momentary.
Fanaticism is a heat which only scorches. The Chris-
tians allowed themselves no mockery of the heathen
rites or idols, nor any use of cutting and insulting
language. The case was wholly exceptional in which a
Christian broke in pieces an image of a god.^^*^ It came
to pass that individual Christians, excited to enthusi-
asm, pressed forward to martyrdom ; the church al-
ways most decidedly disapproved of this. " We do not
CHAP, m.] FREEDOM FROM FANATICISM. 211
praise," writes the church in Smyrna in the letter in
which it gives an account of the martyrdom of its
bishop, Poly carp, "those who give themselves up, for
the Gospel does not so teach." ^^' Cyprian exhorted his
people during a violent persecution : " Keep peace and
tranquillity, as you have been so very often taught by
me. Let no one stir up any tumult for the brethren,
nor voluntarily offer himself to the Gentiles. For
when apprehended and delivered up he ought to speak,
inasmuch as God abiding in us speaks in that hour." ^^^
When, during a plague in Carthage, some Christians
lamented that they should die on a sick-bed, instead of
dying as martyrs, the Bishop reminded them : " In the
first place martyrdom is not in your power, but de-
pends upon the grace of God. Then, besides, God, the
searcher of the reins and heart, sees you, and praises
and approves you. It is one thing for the spirit to be
wanting for martyrdom, and another for martyrdom to
have been wanting for the spirit. For God does not
ask for our blood, but for our faith. This sickness
is sent to prove it." ^^^ Tlie church teachers never
failed to remind their people that persecution was at
once a judgment on the church, and an earnest admoni-
tion to repentance.
With the same sobriety of judgment the Christians
used all available means for escaping persecution. Opin-
ions differed as to whether it was right to flee. Ter-
tullian decided in the negative.^'-" The majority took
the affirmative, appealing to the well-known command
of our Lord. Yet the flight should not imply denial.
It must be merely a withdrawal, in which he who
retires leaves every thing to the Lord, and holds him-
self in readiness when his hour comes. Thus Polycarp
212 MARTYRDOM. [book i.
retired for a long time, as did Cyprian. But both
showed by a martyr's death that their retreat was
no flight, but only an act of self-preservation for the
right moment. To purchase freedom in a time of per-
secution, to obtain safety by bribery, was generally
regarded as denial. On the other hand. Christians
were to avoid every thing which could attract to them
the attention of the heathen, or excite them to greater
violence. Cyprian, at the beginning of a persecution,
prudently prescribed the arrangements which were
thereby rendered necessary. The clergy in visiting
the confessors in the prisons should take turns; the
people should not press thither in crowds. " For," he
writes, " meek and humble in all things, as becomes the
servants of God, we ought to accommodate ourselves to
the times, and to provide for quietness." ^-^ Calmly
each awaited the moment when the hour of his perse-
cution should arrive, and then stood the firmer, and
with greater patience bore whatever came.
Out of such purity of martyrdom, out of a good con-
science to suffer only for Christ's sake, on the one hand,
out of such a spirit of sobriety and clearness on the
other, were born the peace and joy with which those
who witnessed for Christ met death, and endured what
was worse than death. The worst, indeed, was not
instantaneous death, nor the exquisite tortures which
often preceded it. In order to measure completely the
greatness of the contest, we must look into that inward
conflict which preceded or accompanied that which was
external. Great must have been the temptation to
refine away the necessity of suffering, to represent
death as a needless sacrifice which might as well be
avoided, especially when it was so easy to escape suf-
CHAP, m.] JOY OF THE MARTYRS. 213
fering, when, as was actually the case, venal judges
offered Christians for money a certificate, as though
they had offered sacrifice, or when kindly disposed
judges represented to the accused that it was only a
question of a mere ceremony, that could be complied
with without surrender of one's convictions. More
painful than all the torments which iron and fire,
hunger and thirst, prepared, must it have been to part
from father and mother, wife and child, and to turn
away from their entreaties, their lamentations, their
tears. Harder than instantaneous death at the place
of execution was banishment to the mines, where Chris-
tians were compelled to work among the offscouring of
mankind, and like them have scanty fare, be clothed in
rags, and be beaten by rough overseers, though at the
price of a single word they could be free.^^^ And yet
worse than this some endured. Christian virgins (it is
verily devilish) were condemned to be taken to the
public brothels, to be abandoned there to the most
horrible abuse.^-^ The heathen knew how highly the
Christians esteemed chastity, and that to them its loss
was worse than death. And yet, when the Christian
virgin Sabina, in Smyrna, was apprised of this sen-
tence, she replied, "Whatever God wills !" ^^4 j-^^^
was the heroism of martyrdom, that was to conquer all
through Christ. A faith which so loved and suffered
was invincible. Its victor}^ was sure. And of it could
the Apostle say, even before the conflict had begun :
" Our faith is the victory which hath overcome the
world."
BOOK SECOND.
THE CONFLICT.
Think not that I am come to send peace on earth : I came not to send
peace, but a sword," — Matt. x. 34.
CHAPTER I.
THE FIRST ENCOUNTER.
" Ye shall he hated of all men for mij name's saA;e." — Matt. x. 22.
I. PRELIMINARY SURVEY.
" Think not that I am come to send peace on earth :
I came not to send peace, but a sword." Thus had our
Lord spoken. He had not concealed from His disciples
the conflict which awaited them, a conflict for life and
death. " Ye shall be hated of all men for my name's
sake. They shall lay their hands on you, and persecute
you, delivering you up to the synagogues and into
prisons, and whosoever killeth you will think that he
doeth God service." It could not be otherwise. Never
in human history have two opposing powers had a
sharper encounter than Christianity and ancient Hea-
thenism, the Christian Church and the Roman State.
It is the antagonism between that which is from below
and that which is from above, between natural develop-
ment and the new creation, between that which is born
of the flesh and that which is born of the Spirit, while
behind all this, according to the Scriptures, is the con-
217
218 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
flict between the Prince of this world and the Loid
from heaven.
Two such powers could not exist peaceably side by-
side. The conflict must come, and be for life or death.
Every possibility of a compromise was excluded. This
contest might be occasionally interrupted ; but it could
end only in the conquest of one or the other power.
Christianity entered the conflict as the absolute reli-
gion, as a divine revelation, as unconditionally true,
and claimed to be the religion for all nations, because it
brought to all salvation. A religion co-existing with
others the heathen could have tolerated, as they did so
many religions. The absolute religion they could not
tolerate. Diverging opinions about God and divine
things could be allowed, but not the perfect truth,
which, because it was the truth, excluded every thing
else as false. A new religion for a single nation might
have given no offence. It would have been recognized,
as were so many heathen cults, and monotheistic Juda-
ism as well. But a universal religion could not be thus
allowed. The conflict was for nothing less than the
dominion of the world. From its nature it could only
end in the complete victory of one side or the other.
Christianity entered the field conscious, through the
assurances of our Lord, that the world was its promised
domain. Its messengers knew that they were sent on a
mission of universal conquest for their Lord, and the
youthful Christianity itself proved that it was a world-
subduing power by the wonderful rapidity with which
it spread. After it had passed beyond the bounda-
ries of the land and the people of Judsea, after the
great step was taken of carrying the Gospel to the
heathen, and receiving them into the Christian Church
CHAP. I.] SPREAD OF CHRISTIANITY. 219
without requiring circumcision or their becoming Jews,
it secured in Syrian Antioch its first missionary centre ;
and from this point Paul, the great Apostle of the Gen-
tiles, bore it from city to city through Asia Minor to
Europe, through Greece to Rome, the metropolis of the
world. His line of march was along the great roads,
the highways of travel, which the Romans had built.
Everywhere the Jewish communities served his pur-
poses, like the magazines provided for soldiers. The
synagogues were the points at which Christianity could
be planted. There Paul and his co-laborers preached
the risen Messiah, and proved from the prophets that
Jesus is the Christ. The Jews, it is true, for the most
part opposed, but the proselytes were a prepared field
in which the scattered seed soon sprang up. The
Jewish opposition resulted in a separation from the
synagogue communities. Independent Christian socie-
ties were formed, under their own overseers. And in
them the converts won from among the proselytes
formed a means of connection with others who had
hitherto belonged wholly to Heathenism. We know
too little of this first period, apart from what is told
us in the Book of Acts, to obtain an exact view of this
diffusion of Christianity. Yet when we notice that
Paul, even in his first journey to Rome, finds Christians
in Italy, and this not merely in the capital, but also in
little Puteoli, we are warranted in assuming that after
a few decades there were in all the cities, large and
small. Christian churches, or, if not perfectly organ-
ized societies, at least little bands of Christians. In
the same way the church spread eastward and south-
ward, and yet more vigorously, for the Jewish popula-
tion was denser. We find Peter in Babylon. Edessa
220 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
is already a missionary centre. Still more important
was the church of Alexandria, whose founder is said to
have been John Mark. Still others, even earlier, had
carried the Gospel beyond the bounds of the Roman
Empire ; Thomas to Parthia, Andrew to Scythia, Bar-
tholomew to India, that is, probably, to Yemen. From
Rome, moreover, the church appears to have been trans-
planted on the one side into Africa, on the other into
Gaul and as far as Germany and Britain. At least
hardly a century had passed since the day of Pente-
cost before the entire Roman Empire was covered with
a net-work of Christian churches. Although these may
still have been small as respects the number of their
members, yet, even in the time of Nero, Tacitus speaks
of a great multitude of Christians in Rome, and other
indications point to the conclusion that Christianity
had gained an uncommonly rapid diffusion not only
territorially, but also as. respects the number of its
professors.
How did this extension take place ? Without doubt
by means of missions. The church in Antioch was not
the only one which esteemed it a duty to send forth
messengers of the Gospel (Acts xiii. 2), and though
Paul could say that he had labored more abundantly
than they all, yet other laborers stood by his side.
Though many things which are reported to us concern-
ing the activity of the other Apostles are legendary,
this much stands firm — they did not fold their hands.
From a later time Origen informs us explicitly that the
city churches sent out their own missionaries in order
to preach the Gospel to the villages. Then we must
recall our Lord's saying respecting the self-growing
seed (Mark iv. 26-28) : " So is the kingdom of God,
CHAP. I.] WAYS AND MEANS OF EXTENSION. 221
as if a man should cast seed into the ground, and
should sleep and rise night and day, and the seed
should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how. For
the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself ; first the blade,
then the ear; after that the full corn in the ear."
Every Christian became a missionary, a witness to the
Lord in whom he had found comfort and peace. Trav-
elling craftsmen and traders (for example Aquila and
Priscilla, who appear so often in the Epistles of Paul)
told of the Messiah who had come, and brought tidings
of what had occurred at Jerusalem. Others completed
the narrations. A small company meet in private
houses. Some one is found for a leader, and the little
circle forms itself into a church. Public preaching on
the streets or squares of the cities was not wanting, as
for instance the Apostle's sermon in Athens. There
was nothing unusual in this, inasmuch as at that age
philosophers, or whoever had a new doctrine to pro-
claim, appeared in public and addressed the people.
The private diffusion of Christianity was, perhaps,
even more powerful and effective. One person told to
another where he had found peace and comfort — one
laborer to another, one slave to his fellow-slave. What
was heard was interchanged, as was also what was
received in writing, a Gospel, it may be, or an apostoli-
cal Epistle. The susceptibility of these Christian bands,
on the one side, and on the other the kindling — we
might say, the inflaming — power of Christianity, to-
gether with the activity of the Apostles and apostolic
men, are the elements to be especially considered in this
extension of Christianity.
These facts have also already indicated in what circles
the preaching of the Crucified One first found accept-
222 PEELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
ance. " See your calling," writes St. Paul (1 Cor. i. 26,
27), " how that not many wise men after the flesh, not
many mightj^ not many noble, are called, but God hath
chosen the foolish things of the world, to confound the
wise ; and God hath chosen the weak things of the
world, to confound the things which are mighty ; and
base things of the world, and things which are despised,
hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to
bring to nought things that are." "Not many" —
some, however, from the higher classes were even thus
early to be found. At least the recent investigations
in the Catacombs at Rome, and the discovery of Chris-
tian burial-chambers whose rich artistic ornamentation
belongs to the first, or the beginning of the second,
century, have made it probable that Christianit}^ must
have found access earlier than has been believed, and
to a greater degree, to the higher Roman families.
De Rossi,^ the explorer of the Roman Catacombs, has
shown that in the oldest part of the Catacomb of
Callistus, which is named for St. Lucina, members
of the gens Pomfonia^ — from which Atticus, Cicero's
friend, sprang, — and perhaps members of the Flavian
house, were interred. So early had the Christian faith
made its way into the old Roman families. Still, the
great majority were people of inferior rank. Even
toward the end of the second century Celsus scoffs
that wool-dressers, cobblers, and tanners were the most
zealous Christians. Above all it was the poor, who as
the poor in spirit embraced the Gospel of the lowly
Jesus who makes many rich. The oppressed and
harassed, whom the spirit of Antiquity despised, the
laboring classes, the slaves, were the ones who opened
their hearts to the message of the kingdom of God as
CHAP. I.] RECEPTION OF CHRISTIANITY. 223
the realm of liberty and peace. Or wherever there
were yearning souls, already at variance with the an-
cient views of the world, and whom neither the pagan
religion nor the pagan philosophy could satisfy, souls
weary and heavy laden, there were those who had an
open ear for the preaching of the Gospel.
But while this attracted some, it excited in others —
at first by far the larger part — opposition and hate.
Every thing about it was too strange to the heathen,
too repugnant to the views with which they had been
familiar from childhood, for them to be able to under-
stand it. To a cultivated and high-born Roman this
whole fellowship of artisans and slaves was far too con-
temptible, and its superstition far too absurd, to admit
of his at all busying himself with it and inquiring with
any special care as to its precise character. Accurately
as contemporary writers collect whatever else is worthy
of note, Christianity is scarcely mentioned by them
down to the middle of the second century. Pliny the
Younger, and even Tacitus, although he relates the
persecution by Nero, evidently do not regard it as
worth while to concern themselves about this generally
despised mass of men. That such persons, on the whole,
deserved nothing better than to be thus persecuted,
even without investigation, passed with them as some-
thing settled. Precisely where something of the gen-
uine Roman spirit prevailed was the opposition the most
powerful, for the Christian spirit and the Roman stood
in sharpest antagonism. The circles of the aristocracy
were the most difficult in which the church could make
conquests. They were for the most part morally too
corrupt to have any feeling for what is higher. And
wliere a better spirit prevailed, where the endeavor was
224 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book ii.
to maintain the old Roman character and to re-invig-
orate it, this effort in itself involved ill-will toward an
oriental religion which was numbered without examina-
tion with " the detestable and senseless " that flowed to
Rome, and with the innovations which must be set
aside in order to restore the State and the national life
to the old traditional basis.
The sentiment of the middle classes is made known
to us in the ingenious colloquy which Minucius Felix
wrote in defence of Christianity under the title Octa-
vius. Csecilius, who defends Heathenism, represents
in his views a class of persons large then as always,
persons having a certain measure of culture yet in-
capable of any profound knowledge, and touching the
subject of religion only on the surface. Conserva-
tive in their disposition they adhere k) the faith in
which they are born neither from choice, nor from
inclination, but from decorum and love of quiet. They
regard it as a mark of good breeding not to dispute
much upon such a topic. They are no dreamers, nor
mystics. On the contrary they are somewhat scepti-
cal, and inclined it may be to ridicule religious be-
liefs. Yet they are unwilling to see the old traditions
disturbed, and they are easily inflamed against reli-
gious innovators, and are credulous of every absurdity
which is reported about them. Nothing in Christianity
more excites the anger of Caecilius than its claim to be
in possession of assured truth. Often enough does he
repeat that one can know nothing with certainty .^
"Human mediocrity is so inadequate to the explo-
ration of things divine that it is not granted us to
know, nor is it permitted to search, nor is it religious
to force the things which are upheld suspended in the
CHAP. I.] SENTIMENT OF THE MIDDLE CLASSES. 225
heavens above us, nor those which are sunk deep
in subterranean abysses." Yet in spite of his scep-
ticism he adheres to what has been handed down.
"Since then either chance is certain, or nature is un-
certain," this is his last word, " is not the tradition of
the fathers the most venerable and the best guide to
truth? Let us follow the religion which they have
handed down to us, let us adore the gods whom we
have been trained from childhood to fear rather than
to know with familiarity, and let us beware of disputing
about them." 3 This seemed to him the surest and
most useful method. He clings to the utility of the old
religion inasmuch as its truth cannot be determined.
"Since all nations agree to recognize the immortal
gods, although their nature or their origin may be
uncertain, I cannot endure that any one swelling with
audacity and such irreligious knowledge should strive
to dissolve or weaken a religion so old, so useful, so
salutary." * Without doubt many held the same posi-
tion. They had no longer any heart for the old reli-
gion, yet they did not venture directly to break with it.
They doubted, they reckoned it a sign of culture no
longer to hold the ancient creed with exactness, they
occasionally scoffed at it, — this was a mark of being
well bred ; yet at last they held fast to the old faith.
They lacked the energy which was necessary to seize
a new one.
Besides this there was the depressed condition of
the Christians — an offence to all. Much was involved
in attaching one's self to these despised, persecuted
men. What we call public opinion is for the most
part determined by success. The God of the Chris-
tians had so far shown few successes. The Roman
226 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
deities had made Rome great, had given her the victory
in countless battles, had laid at the feet of the city on
the Tiber the dominion of the world. But this God of
the Christians, why did He not interest Himself in
those who believed in Him ? Why allow them to be so
despised and trodden under foot ? Did the Christians
appeal to the future, did they point to the day of final
redemption and completion of the kingdom of God, to
the resurrection and the coming blessedness, this was
to the heathen of no importance, since the present
was so troubled. " Where is the God ? " asks Csecilius,
" that can help those who come to life again, while He
does nothing for the living? Do not the Romans
govern and reign without your God? Do they not
enjoy the whole world and rule over you ? The great-
est and best portion of you are the prey of want and
cold, are naked and hungry. Your God suffers this,
and seems not to know it. Either He can not, or will
not, help His own : thus He is either weak, or unjust." ^
A mode of reasoning which must certainly have struck
home to the heathen, to whom the present was all, and
whose worship had this ultimate aim — the attainment
of something from their gods as a reward for their
zealous veneration.
The less Christianity was understood, and the more
foreign and contradictory every thing about it was to
the opinions which hitherto had been accepted, the
more easy was it for misunderstanding and hatred to
excite the strangest reports ; and the more absurd these
were, the more readily did they obtain currency, not
only among the masses who are always credulous, but
even more widely and in select circles.
j The spiritual worship of the Christians was something
CHAP. I.] SLANDEROUS REPORTS. 227
utterly unintelligible to the heathen. No pagan could
conceive of a religious service without temples and
images, without altars and sacrifices. Since the Chris-
tians had none of these they could not have a God.
It is true they talked of an invisible, omnipresent
God, but such a Deity was to the heathen inconceiv-
able. " What absurdities," exclaims Csecilius,^ " do
these Christians invent! Of the God whom they can
neither show nor see they recount that He is every-
where present, that He comes and goes, that He knows
and judges the actions of men, their words, and even
their secret thoughts. They make Him out to be a spy,
a troublesome policeman, who is always in motion.''^
How can He attend to every particular, when He is
occupied with the whole ? Or how can He be sufficient
for the whole, when He is engaged with particulars ? " ^
Therefore the Christians appeared to them to be god-
less, to be atheists. Away with the atheists ! was the
customary cry of popular rage in the persecutions. Or,
since the Christians according to pagan thought must
have some sort of a deity, the slander circulated about
the Jews was transferred to them — they adored the
head of an ass. Thus in TertuUian's day, there was
circulated a picture of a figure with the ears of an ass,
clothed with a toga, holding a book in its hands, and
with these words inscribed beneath : " The God of the
Christians."^ So likewise, among the ruins of the
Palace of the Caesars in Rome, there has recently been
found a sketch, roughly drawn with charcoal on the
wall, representing a man with an ass's head hanging on
a cross, and below, in rude Greek letters : " Alexamenos
adores his god." Evidently a scoff of the soldiers at
some Christian comrade .^^
228 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
Even worse accusations were made. The close con-
nection of Christians with each other, their brotherly
love, their firm union even to death, it was believed,
could only be explained by the fact that they were
united in a secret sacrilegious covenant by horrid oaths
and yet more horrible practices. Men shuddered as
they related that in the Christian assemblies, at the
AgapcB^ human flesh was eaten, and human blood drunk.
"The story about the initiation of novices," Caecilius
narrates, " is as much to be detested as it is well known.
An infant covered over with meal, that it may deceive
the unwary, is placed before the neophytes. This in-
fant is slain by the young pupil, with dark and secret
wounds, he being urged on as if to harmless blows on
the surface of the meal. Thirstily — O horror ! — they
lick up its blood ; eagerly they divide its limbs ; by this
victim they are pledged together ; with this conscious-
ness of wickedness they are covenanted to mutual
silence." After the feast, it is further related, when
they are intoxicated, a dog that has been tied to the
chandelier is provoked by throwing a morsel to jump,
and by the leap he extinguishes the light, and in the
darkness thus occasioned, deeds of the most abominable
lust are committed and the wildest orgies are cele-
brated. Even cultivated and thoughtful heathen like
the Orator Fronto under Marcus Aurelius, and even, it
appears, the Emperor himself credited such reports;
and those who did not wholly accept them were of
the opinion that things so utterly impious, and only to
be mentioned with apology, would not be reported
unless there were some foundation in truth.
But apart from such stories, — which with the lapse
of time must have been seen to be wholly baseless.
CHAP. I.] ENEMIES OF MAISTKIND. 229
though believed through many a decade and often
enough kindling the rage of the populace and influ-
encing even the measures of the government, — the
Christians passed with the heathen as a race averse to
all that is great, fair and noble in our humanity, as even
hostile to it, and haters of mankind. In its origin their
religion was barbarian ; they despised all science. This
is the rule laid down by them," writes Celsus ; ^'^ " Let
no one come to us who has been educated, or who is
wise or prudent, for such qualifications are deemed
evil by us; but if there be any ignorant, or unculti-
vated, or unintelligent, or foolish person, let him come
with confidence." Their teachers, he affirms, say : " See
that none of you lay hold of knowledge ! Knowledge
is an evil. Knowledge causes men to lose their sound-
ness of mind; they perish through wisdom." ^^ Since the
Christians were obliged to withdraw from public life,
since they took no part in the pleasures of the heathen
nor shared in their interests, they were regarded as
useless, as a gloomy and light-shunning race. Their
life seemed to the heathen joyless and dismal. " We,"
says one of their number, " worship the gods with cheer-
fulness, with feasts, songs and games, but you worship
a crucified man who cannot be pleased by those who
have all this enjoyment, who despises joy and condemns
pleasures." ^^ Even what the Christians said of a judg-
ment for the godless, of eternal punishments in hell,
was deemed a proof of their hatred of men. To the
pagan Caecilius ^^ they are a " reprobate, unlawful, des-
perate faction," who had conspired against all that is
good and beautiful, a " people skulking and shunning
the light, silent in public, but garrulous in corners.
They despise the temples as charnel-houses, they abhor
230 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [nooK ii.
the gods, they laugh at sacred things ; wretched, they
pity, if they are allowed, the priests ; half naked them-
selves, they disdain honors and purple robes. In their
wondrous folly and incredible audacity they despise
present torments, though they dread those which are
uncertain and future ; and, while they fear to die after
death, they do not fear to die for the present. So
does a deceitful hope, the consolations of a revival,
soothe their fear." The solicitude of the Christians for
their salvation was to the heathen something wholly
unintelligible and even absurd, and they regarded the
Christians as the most irrational and wretched of men
because they renounced the sure, substantial blessings
and enjoyments of this world for the sake of things
future and wholly uncertain in order to escape an ima-
ginary evil and attain to an imaginary blessedness.
" You in the mean time, in suspense and anxiety," says
Csecilius,^^ "are abstaining from respectable enjoyments.
You do not visit the shows; you are not present in
solemn processions ; you do not appear at public ban-
quets ; you abhor the sacred contests, and the meats
and drinks a portion of which has been offered and
poured out upon the altars. You do not wreathe your
heads with flowers ; you do not honor your bodies with
odors ; you reserve unguents for funeral-rites, you even
refuse garlands to your sepulchres — pale, trembling
beings, worthy of pity, even the pity of our gods.
Thus, wretched ones, you neither rise again, nor mean-
while do you live." Surely if Csecilius was correct in
this last statement, he was altogether right in calling
the Christians the most wretched of human beings.
For if in this life only we have hope in Christ, if we
are not born again by the resurrection of Christ to a
CHAP. I.] POLITICAL ACCUSATIONS. 231
living hope, we are indeed of all men the most miser-
able (1 Cor. XV. 19).
The greatest peril for the Christians lay in this, that
these reproaches had a political side, or that they could
so easily be turned in this direction. Just because
public life was wholly interwoven with Heathenism,
were Christians compelled to withdraw from it. Their
demeanor towards the State was, it is true, everywhere
determined by the command : " Submit yourselves to
every ordinance of man for the Lord's sake," "Let
every soul be subject unto the higher powers," but
while the State was thoroughly pagan their relation to
it could only be a negative one. Their interests lay
elsewhere than in the Roman State, and in its grandeur
and honor. " Nothing," Tertullian acknowledges with
perfect frankness, "is more foreign to us than public
affairs." ^^ They avoided military service and public
offices, for the soldier was obliged to assist at sacrifices,
and civil officers to superintend the performance of
religious rites. Therefore it was said : " You are a lazy
race, useless and indolent in public affairs, for it
behooves a man to live for his native land and the
State." ^^ While the heathen religions were thoroughly
national, Christianity (and this was to pagan thought
something wholly absurd) appeared as a universal reli-
gion, as a religion for all nations. Even those who
were not Romans, even the barbarians, who confessed
Christ, were to the Christians brothers. The reproach
was close at hand : You yourselves are not Romans,
you are enemies to the State. Christianity seemed
to the heathen anti-national, and the church, firmly
united in its faith and separate from all other men, was
looked upon as a dangerous faction in the State. Was
232 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book ii.
the Emperor's birthday celebrated, the houses of the
Christians remained dark in the illuminated cities, and
their doors were not garlanded. Were games given in
honor of some triumph, no Christian allowed himself
to be seen in the circus, or in the amphitheatre. To
strew incense to the Emperor, to do homage to the
image of the Emperor, to swear by his Genius, was
accounted by the Christians a fall into idolatry. Of
course they were deemed guilty of high treason, ene-
mies of the Emperor. To Komans the eternal duration
of Rome was an indisputable truth. How often Rome
appears on coins as " the eternal city." " To them,"
says Jupiter in Virgil, "I set neither limit, nor times ;
I have given them dominion without end." ^^ The
Christians spoke of a destruction of the whole world,
therefore of Rome. They even expected this speedily,
and rejoiced in it as in a -redemption. They hoped for
another, better country, and regarded this earthly one
only as a foreign laud. Thus they were a people with-
out a fatherland. It was even charged that they plotted
the destruction of Rome. Let them protest as often as
they might that they were obedient, peaceable subjects,
that in their congregations and in their houses they
prayed assiduously for the Emperor, that they paid
punctually their taxes, what did it all avail? Here, in
truth, was an antagonism which necessarily led to
bloody conflicts.
All the States of Antiquity had a theocratic founda-
tion, Rome not less than any other. As national life
was everywhere interwoven with religion, so the reli-
gious life was a part of the political. It was the duty
of a citizen to honor the national gods, and to obey the
laws of the State in religious things as in all others.
CHAP. I.] GUILTY OF TREASON. 233
Human life was on all sides absorbed in civil life, the
State embraced and regulated all its departments. A
pagan could not conceive the possibility of there being
any sphere of human life which was not reached by the
power of the State. It was to him wholly incompre-
hensible that a man could believe himself constrained
from regard to his conscience, for the sake of God, and
in order to obey God, to refuse obedience to any law or
ordinance of the State whatsoever. The State itself
was to him, so to speak, God, and its laws divine. In
Rome this theocratic tendency culminated in the wor-
ship of the Emperors. What other gods a man might
worship, was his private concern, — in this respect the
State was exceedingly tolerant, — but he must honor
the divine Emperor, this was his duty as a citizen.
The crimen Icesce majestatis, the crime of violating the
majesty of the Emperor, and the crimen Icesce puhlicce
religionis, the crime of violating the established reli-
gion, were most intimately connected. From this point
of view all the charges above mentioned were true.
Christianity was for Romans anti-national, hostile to
State and Emperor, un-Roman, an opposition to the
State religion, and therefore to the State itself. And
so long as the State was built on such foundations it
could not act otherwise than it did, it must treat and
persecute Christianity as a prohibited religion. iVon
licet esse vos^^ you have no right to exist, this was the
constantly repeated cry against Christianity. " Your
associations are contrary to law," thus Celsus begins his
book against the Chiistians, passing, as it were, sentence
of death before the trial. The judicial proceedings
against the Christians, as these fall under our notice in
numerous Acts of the Martyrs, always become decisive
234 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book ii.
at this point, — the refusal of the accused to pay divine
honor to the Emperor. ''You ought to love our
princes," said the Proconsul to the martyr Achatius,
— to give merely a single instance of thousands, — " as
behooves a man who lives under the laws of the Ro-
man Empire." Achatius answered : " By whom is the
Emperor more loved than by the Christians ? We sup-
plicate for him unceasingly a long life, a just govern-
ment of his peoples, a peaceful reign, prosperity for the
army and the whole world." — " Good," replied the Pro-
consul, "but in order to prove your obedience, sacrifice
with us to his honor." Upon this Achatius explained ;
"I pray to God for my Emperor, but a sacrifice neither
he should require nor we pay. Who may offer divine
honor to a man?" Upon this declaration he was sen-
tenced to death. This one transaction is typical for all.
The pagan-Roman State, so long as it bore this charac-
ter could not do otherwise than persecute the Christians.
In refusing divine honors to the Emperor, they denied
the State in its profoundest principles. Conversely, if
the Christians had obeyed in this particular, they would
have renounced Christianity in its inmost essence.
Here was a conflict which could be settled by no com-
promise, which could only be gotten rid of by a battle
for life or death. Not until the Emperor bowed before
the Supreme God, not until Christianity became the
foundation of the State, could the era of persecution
come to an end.
Let us not unjustly censure the Emperors who perse-
cuted the Christians, nor the judges v/ho sentenced
them to death. Let us not make of them, as did the
later legends of the martyrs (not the ancient and
genuine martyria so many of which have been pre-
f
CHAP. I.] CHARACTER OF THE CONFLICT. 235
served), fanatical and bloodthirsty tyrants. The judges
decided simply in accordance with the laws, and, in
the great majority of cases, did so coolly, calmly, with-
out passion, as men who were simply discharging their
duty. Among the Emperors there were some, who like
Nero and Domitian, that " piece of Nero in cruelty," ^^
as TertuUian says, were persecutors from cruelty and
thirst for blood, but most of them were actuated by
nobler motives. Those of the second century recog-
nized more as by instinct, those of the third clearly, the
danger which threatened the Roman State in the new
spirit of Christianity, and they strove to protect it.
We must concede that in this matter they were not
deceived. Christianity was, in fact, a power hostile to
the Roman State as it had hitherto existed. The new I
spirit which inspired the Christians would inevitably
destroy the old political organization. The Emperors
could not as yet perceive v/hat renewing and rejuvenat- /
ing powers for the State were possessed by Christianity. \
It would be unjust to expect from the Emperors of the
second century the act of Constantine. It would have f
been in all respects premature.
Let us avoid forming a wrong conception of the
whole conflict. It was not, as later times have thought |
in an entirely unhistorical way, a fanatical war waged
with uninterrupted fury by the old faith on the new.
It was a religious contest on the part of the Christians
alone, who suffered and died for their faith. Only in
its last stages at most did it assume this character to the
heathen. In this fact lay, from the beginning, the \
weakness of Heathenism, and the strength of Chris-
tianity. Not the priests, but the Emperors led the ^
attack, and the Emperors did not fight for their faith —
236 PEELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
["indeed the most zealous persecutors were pre-eminently
sceptical as to the heathen religions, while those who
were believers in them often left the Christians unmo-
lested, — they fought for the existing order of the
/ State, and the object of their endeavors was, not to
■ convert the Christians again to the pagan faith, but to
compel them to submit to the established laws. It is
true the Christians never rebelled against the State.
/They cannot be reproached with even the appearance
' of a revolutionary spirit. Despised, persecuted, abused,
they still never revolted, but showed themselves every-
where obedient to the laws, and ready to pay to the
I Emperors the honor which was their due. Yet in one
/ particular they could not obey, the worship of idols,
the strewing of incense to the Csesar-god. And in this
one thing it was made evident that in Christianity lay
I the germ of a wholly new political and social order.
This is the character of the conflict Avhich we are now
to review. It is a contest of the spirit of Antiquity
I against that of Christianity, of the ancient heathen
order of the world against the new Christian order.
Ten persecutions are commonly enumerated, viz.,
under Nero, Domitian, Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Au-
relius, Septimius Severus, Maximinus the Thracian,
Decius, Valerian, and Diocletian.^^ This traditional
enumeration is, however, very superficial, and leaves
entirely unrecognized the real course of the struggle.
The persecutions are made by it to appear as arbitrary
acts of particular Emperors, as though some persecuted,
while others recognized, Christianity. Though times
of relative tranquillity occurred, Christianity remained,
notwithstanding, a prohibited religion. This being the
case, the simple arrangement of the persecutions in a
CHAP. I.] CHRISTIAJS-ITY PROHIBITED. 237
series makes the impression that they were all of the
same character, while in fact the persecution under
Nero was wholly different from that under Trajan and
his successors, and this again varied essentially from
those under Decius and Diocletian. The first persecu-
tion which v/as really general and systematically aimed
at the suppression of the Church, was the Decian.
That under Trajan and his successors consisted merely
of more or less frequent processes against individual
Christians, in which the established methods of trial
were employed, and the existing laws were more or less
sharply used against them.^^ Finally, the persecutions
under Nero and Domitian were mere outbreaks of per-
sonal cruelty and tyrannical caprice.
In what has preceded I have indicated the three
periods which mark the course of the conflict.
The strictness of the Roman laws against foreign
religions has been already noticed. Christianity be-
longed to this class. It was therefore from the outset*
a prohibited religion. The Christian churches were
illegal societies (^collegia illicitd). Participation in for-
bidden associations was severely punished. The penalty
for membership was the same as for appearing at public
places or temples with weapons in the hand, the pun-
ishment of treason ; that is, the guilty party could,
according to the decision of the judge, be either be-
headed, or cast to the wild beasts, or burned. If these
severe laws had been at once rigidly emplo3^ed against
the youthful Christianity, it must have immediately
succumbed to the attack. But, apart from the fact
already noticed that the Romans were somewhat timid
about strictly enforcing these laws, two circumstances
came to the help of Christianity, and secured to it at
238 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book ii.
least sufficient protection to enable it to gain strength
until it could withstand open assault. One of these
was the protection which the Christians could obtain
under the laws concerning the collegia. To these legally
sanctioned collegia belonged the burial clubs, — associa-
tions, mostly, of the poorer class of people, who joined
together to secure to their members, by regular contri-
butions, suitable burial upon their decease, and the due
observance of the usual religious solemnities at their
interment and on anniversary days. The extensive
catacombs in Rome and elsewhere prove that the Chris-
tians enjoyed legal protection for their graves. There
are also many other indications that they endeavored in
every possible way to avail themselves of the shelter
afforded by the laws and usages respecting associations
for burial purposes. In this way they could not only
bury their dead in safety without molestation from the
heathen, they were also able to meet together under
the protection of law, to arrange collections for the
poor, and above all to hold their services of religious
worship at the cemeteries.^^
Of greater importance than this means of protection
— which, indeed, was of more avail for the dead than
the living — was the other fact to which I have referred,
that the heathen at first were unable to distinguish the
Christians from the Jews. The Christian brotherhoods
passed continually with the Romans for Jewish associa-
tions, and thus they remained unmolested ; and more
than once it was the Roman law which afforded protec-
tion to the nascent Christianity against the fanatical
hatred of the unbelieving Jews. Paul appealed suc-
cessfully to his rights as a Roman citizen, and in Cor-
inth the Proconsul Gallio drove the Jews with, their
CHAP. I.] MEANS OF PROTECTION. 239
accusation against Paul from his judgment-seat, with
the declaration that he was not disposed to be a judge
of their disputes.-^
On the other hand the Christians inherited all the
hatred which so heavily oppressed the Jews; and
this hatred did not diminish, but only augmented as
the heathen ere long discovered, especially in the
large cities, that there was a difference between Jews
and Christians. The Jews themselves, who every-
where persecuted the Christians most violently, took
care to make it plain that the latter did not belong to
them. At first the Christians appeared to the heathen
only as a faction of the Jews, and, indeed, as the most
dangerous and objectionable faction of these despisable
and irrational beings, and therefore when the cruelty
and murderous passion of an Emperor like Nero seized
upon these Christians in order to make them atone for
a crime of which they were guiltless, he could be sure
of the assent of the great mass of the people. In other
respects, though the zeal of a governor who thought
in this way to recommend himself to the Emperor, or
some outburst of popular rage demanded here and
there a victim, no systematic persecution of the Chris-
tians occurred in this period. They were still protected
by the pagan ignorance of the true character of their
religion. They were, besides, too insignificant to make
it possible for them to be regarded as an important
opponent by the heathen world in the fullness of its
power.
The situation changed when, with the destruction of
Jerusalem and the complete overthrow of the Jewish
State, the protecting sheath fell off from Christianity;
when it could no lono-er remain concealed from the
240 PRELIMINARY SURVEY. [book n.
heathen that Christianity was a tertium genus, a third
religion by the side of Heathenism and Judaism ; and
when at the same time, about the beginning of the
second century, this religion spread with such power
that for the first time the thought occurred to Roman
statesmen that it might become dangerous to the State.
Now a definite position in regard to it could no longer
be avoided; and this was taken in the rescript of
Trajan to Pliny, in which the Emperor communicated
exact directions respecting legal proceedings against
the Christians. This introduces the second period of
the contest, for the edict of Trajan remained substan-
tially the law for the following century and a half.
The effort was to limit the growth of the church by the
use of the established laws in the ordinary methods
of judicial transactions. Meanwhile, however, Chris-
tianity kept on growing ; and as early as the reign of
Marcus Aurelius it had become evident that these
means for its suppression were inadequate. Already
they had to be employed on so large a scale that the
persecution, in many places at least, was universal.
Yet all this was only preparatory to the decisive
conflict. This was first kindled when the question
arose, on what should the State be founded, on a re-
stored Heathenism with annihilation of Christianity,
or on Christianity with an abandonment of Heathen-
ism. On the one side, the revolution maturing within
Heathenism itself, which v/e have characterized above
as its restoration, on the other, the magnificent devel-
opment of the Christian church, first brought the op-
posing parties into a position in which the decisive
battle could be fought. The general persecutions be-
gan with Decius. They aimed at a complete suppres-
CHAP. T.] THE THREE PERIODS OF THE CONFLICT. 241
sion of Christianity. All previous conflicts had been,
as it were, single combats. Now the contest raged
along the whole line of battle. On both sides all the
forces at command were brought into action. Hea-
thenism, now become fanatical, put forth its last stren-
uous exertions, and the contest ended only with the full
victory of the Cross.
II. THE PERSECUTION UNDER NERO.
Not much more than three decades had passed away
since Pentecost, the birthday of the Christian Church,
when there occurred its first bloody encounter with the
Roman State. It took place, characteristically enough,
in Rome, in the world's chief city, and no less a person
than the Emperor gave the signal for a contest which
was to bring grave anxieties to many of his successors
on the throne of the Csesars, until, again before the
gates of Rome, at the Milvian bridge, the legions of
the first Christian Emperor won, under the sign of the
long-persecuted Cross, the decisive and final victory.
We do not know when the Gospel was first preached
in Rome. It was certainly at an early date. The inter-
course between Rome and the East was very active.
Numerous vessels came from Antioch and the coast of
Asia Minor. And on one of them, perhaps, came the
first converted, and for us nameless, Jew who bore to
the large Jewish communion there the tidings of the
Messiah who had appeared, the crucified and risen
Jesus. The earliest, indistinct trace of this introduc-
tion of Christianity into Rome is to be found in Sueto-
nius's report of the expulsion of the Jews, which is
mentioned also in Acts xviii. 1. Suetonius alleges as
the cause of this expulsion that the Jews had excited
242 THE PERSECUTION UNDER NERO. [cook ii.
constant disturbance at the instigation of a certain
Chrestns. This Chrestus, whom Suetonius appears to
regard as a leader of the Jews at that time, can only be
Christ, as the verbal form Chrestus not unfrequently
appears instead of Christus."^ It was the controversy
whether the Messiah had already appeared, or was still
to be expected, which excited the Jews. The Roman
Jewish community shared in the disquiet which now
disturbed more and more the whole Jewish world.
Rejecting the true Messiah they looked all the more
enthusiastically for a Messiah who should correspond to
their own expectations, a Messiah who should break in
pieces the Roman yoke. Incited by the Pharisaic party
fanaticism flamed higher and higher. Already in the
Holy Land the clouds were gathering for the fearful
tempest which was soon to break upon that unhappy
country, and the expulsion of the Jews from Rome was
a sign of the approaching storm. Although they soon
returned, they were henceforth increasingly suspected
by the Romans, and whereas, down to this time, it had
been one of the traditions of the Julian house to show
them especial favor, they now met from the government
many tokens of displeasure.
Meanwhile the number of the Christians increased
perceptibl}^ It may have happened that many, like
Aquila and Priscilla, departed as Jews and returned
as Christians. Doubtless the two persons just named,
to whom Paul in the Epistle to the Romans gives
the first place in his greetings, largely contributed to
the founding and enlargement of the Roman church.
Paul, on his arrival in the city, found an important
church already in existence, and through his efforts,
while he lived as a prisoner two j^ears in a hired house,
CHAP. I.] THE CHURCH IN ROME. 243
it considerably increased. It could no longer remain
wholly concealed from the heathen as a distinct com-
munity, and although it may still have been regarded
as a fraction of Judaism, yet as such it now became
of note. The consequence, indeed, was only greater
hatred and profounder contempt. The Christians ap-
peared to the heathen to be the most dangerous fraction
of Judaism, more unreasonable than the rest of the
Jews, more hostile to the whole Roman State, to all
that in their eyes was great, noble and good. Judaism
was still a national religion, Christianity wholly anti-
national, and this anti-national religion was rapidly
diffusing itself with its superstition among the lower
orders. It contradicted every thing which hitherto had
been esteemed sacred, and it could only be explained
by assuming that it originated in hatred to all that is
human. The Jews who were hostile to Christianity
stirred up, so far as the}^ were able, the ill-will and
hatred of the heathen towards the Christians, and it is
not improbable that they, above all others, diffused and
kept alive the horrible reports about the Christians
which even thus early appeared and were only too
readily credited, the stories of the abominations which
the Christians were said to practise in their secret
assemblies, their eating human flesh, and their licen-
tiousness.
The hostile feeling of the people toAvard the Chris-
tians which was thus excited forms the background of
the First, the Neronian Persecution, which, as before
remarked, was no persecution in the later meaning of the
word, but only a sudden, fierce outburst of hate, though
for this reason all the more bloody and horrible. ^^
On the night of the eighteenth of July, A.D. 64 (the
244 THE PERSECUTION UNDER NERO. [book n.
same day of the year on which the Gauls had once
set fire to the city, a fact to which the superstitious
ascribed especial importance), a great conflagration
broke out in Rome. The fire originated in the stalls
near the Circus Maximus, in which many of the Jews
carried on their traffic, and there, where combustibles of
different kinds were accumulated, it found its first sup-
ply of fuel. Then it seized the Circus with its wooden
stagings and seats, and lashed by the wind spread with
astonishing rapidity. All efforts of the firemen and
soldiers, who tore down houses with engines of war, to
arrest the flames, proved abortive. The fire raged six
days and nights, until it was finally conquered far away
from where it began, at the wall of Servius TuUius near
the gardens of Maecenas. Nor did this suffice. The
fire broke out anew in another quarter of the city, and
raged three days more. Of the fourteen " regions " of
the city only four entirely escaped. The metropolis
of the world was a vast heap of ruins. The calamity
was immeasurable.
As always happens at such times, the origin of the
fire was the object of the most eager and excited in-
quiry ; and among the people the suspicion arose, that
Nero huuself had instigated the conflagration. It was
asserted that men had been seen to hurl firebrands into
the houses, and to hinder the extinction of the flames.
Moreover they were said to have declared that they
thus acted by order of the Emperor. Others believed
that they had recognized these incendiaries as his ser-
vants. Yet others narrated that Nero himself had
exulted in the splendor of the sea of fire; that from
the tower of Maecenas, he had been a spectator of the
conflagration, and in his well-known stage costume had
declaimed over it a poem on the burning of Troy.
CHAP. I.] THE GREAT FIRE OF ROME. 245
It is, to-day, hardly possible to discover whether there
was any truth in these reports. The impartial verdict
of history must be that it is at least very improbable
that Nero was really the incendiary, since he was not in
Rome at all, but at Antium, and did not return till the
fire threatened to attack his palace. But this at least
is certain, the reports found credence. Nero was ac-
cused of having set fire to the world's capital for his
own pleasure. It made no difference that, during the
conflagration, he hurried to and fro directing and ur-
ging on the efforts for its extinction, or that after the
fire he cared for the people and promoted the rebuilding
of the city in the most munificent manner. The sacri-
fices too which he offered and the services of atonement
and consecration which he instituted, were in vain,
The rumor held its ground in spite of all. The rage
of the people demanded a victim, and for the sacrifice
the Christians were chosen. Nero, says Tacitus, falsely
charofed the Christians with the crime.
It need not be wondered at that, when a crime had
been committed, these were selected to expiate it,
though they were the farthest of all from perpetrating
the crime. They were hated for deeds of shame im-
puted to them, and so seemed equally capable of the
crime and worthy of the punishment. Besides, as al-
ready indicated, suspicion might easily be made to fall
on the Jews, and the Christians were still considered
as Jews. The conflagration had begun near the circus
where the Jews had their shops, and the quarters in-
habited by them were among the few parts of the city,
which the fire spared. But, the Christians were regard-
ed as the worst and the most dangerous among the
Jews, because their numbers constantly increased. By
246 THE PERSECUTION UNDER NERO. [book ii.
making them suffer death, an additional advantage would
be gained in getting rid of them. It is possible, also,
that the Jews, being enemies of the Christians, managed
to divert suspicion from themselves, to those whom they
so much hated. Whether Poppsea Sabina, Nero's con-
sort, and the friend of the Jews, had a part in it or not,
cannot be decided. We have no information on the
subject, and the story told by French historians of an
intrigue of Poppsea against Nero's mistress Acte, whom
they suppose to have been a Christian, is a romance
spun from sparse and wholly inadequate materials.
However, some Christians were arrested and confessed
— what and how, we are not told. Perhaps only that
they were Christians, but if also that they took part
in kindling the fire, then those who confessed it were
no Christians, or torture forced untrue confessions from
their weakness. In the narrative of Tacitus there is a
veil over this matter, and this veil was not thrown over
it by the historian, but before him by those who exam-
ined the accused. The prefect, Tigellinus, who was at
no loss for the witnesses necessary to convict Nero's
innocent wife Octavia, of all sorts of infamous deeds,
would not feel any embarrassment in this case. From
the testimony of those first arrested, a more searching
inquisition was instituted for the Christians. A multi-
tude of arrests were made, and if the prisoners could
not be convicted of kindling the conflagration, yet as
Tacitus reports with icy coldness, they could be con-
demned for hating the human race. That was sufficient ;
of such people the worst was probable, and they might
be treated as incendiaries even though proof of the
deed was not to be had.
There followed a carnival of bloodshed such as Rome,
CHAP. I.] CAKNIVAL OF BLOODSHED IN ROME. 247
thoroughly accustomed as it then was to murder, had
never yet seen. It was not enough simply to put the
supposed criminals to death, for of course the more
cruelly they were treated, the more guilty would they
be made to appear. And so the most horrible torments
were employed, and new modes of execution were in-
vented to torture them. Those who were crucified and
thus imitated their Lord in their death, could consider
themselves favored. Others were sewn up in the skins
of wild beasts and torn to pieces by dogs. Still others
were used in tragic spectacles in the manner before
mentioned. We have a scene from this persecution
recalled by the words of Clement of Rome in his Epistle
to the Corinthians : -^ " By reason of jealousy, women,
Danaids and Dirces, being persecuted, after that they
had suffered cruel and unholy insults, safely reached
the goal in the race of faith, and received a noble
reward, feeble though they were in body." Christian
women personating the Danaids* and Dirce were brought
upon the stage, and there certainly happened to the
one who represented Dirce, what, according to the
legend, befell her, namely that she was bound to a
raging bull, and dragged to death. But the evening
was the climax of the carnival. The populace as-
sembled in Nero's garden to behold a magnificent dis-
play. All around, huge torches were blazing to dispel
the darkness. They were Christians who, covered
with tow and coated with pitch, and then bound to
stakes of pine, were lighted and burned as torches.
Juvenal, who probably was an eye witness, describes ^^
how
" At the stake they shine,
Who stand with throat transfixed and smoke and burn."
248 THE PERSECUTION UlSTDER NERO. [book n.
Among them Nero drove about, fantastically attired as
a charioteer, and the people shouted with delight.
This was the first of the -persecutions, as it were the
fiery portal, through which the Christians entered the
arena in which they were now called to strive, to bleed,
to die for their faith during two and a half centuries.
This first persecution was no carefully-planned attempt
to suppress Christianity, founded upon civil or religious
policy, but only a cruel outburst of hatred, which Nero
turned to account in his own interest. Heathenism had
not as yet learned to understand Christianity at all. It
appeared to the heathen only as something entirely
strange, utterly opposed to every existing and tradi-
tional belief. And the Christians were regarded as
men who, since they hated every thing human, deserved
nothing but hatred, in dealing with whom therefore
any thing was permissible, and all considerations of
humanity might be set aside. Now Christians might
learn what awaited them. Heathenism had openly de-
clared by action, that Christianity was not to be tole-
rated, that it was to be annihilated as inhuman, hostile
to the human race. Now, too, might the heathen know
what they had to expect from the Christians. In
patient silence they endured all. The Heroic Age of
the Christian Church had begun, a heroism not of
action, but of a suffering mightier than all deeds.
It is certainly significant that Nero, the most blood-
thirsty and cruel of all the Emperors, was the one who
heads the list of the persecutors of the Christians. It
is not difficult to understand why the defenders of
Christianity in later times have often referred to the
fact that a Nero began the persecutions, nor to see how
the legend arose that Nero was Antichrist, and v/ould
CHAP. I.] CHRISTIANITY AISTD ANTI-CHRIST. 249
return in that character at the end of the world. In-
deed here Christianity and Anti-Christianity stood con-
fronting one another more directly than they will again
antagonize till the end of time. Here we see the Chris-
tian church still in its original simplicity and purity,
still under the guidance of apostles, full of living faith
and active love and (in all the weakness and imperfec-
tion, which even then were not absent) as yet in truth
composed of saints who sought holiness, who included
all in their brotherly love and who were prepared to
endure all things for their faith. Opposed to these
stood the Emperor, stained with the blood of many inno-
cent victims, with the blood of his brother, of his wife,
of his mother, wallowing in licentiousness and the in-
dulgence of every lust; and a degenerate people, a
populace clamoring only for " bread and games." And
while the Christians, innocent, but accused of the most
disgraceful crimes, writhed in mortal agony and blazed
as torches at the stake, the Emperor made his vanity as
an actor conspicuous, paraded his skill as a charioteer,
and a rabble drunk with sensual pleasure saluted him
with shouts of applause.
In the metropolis of the world Heathenism and Chris-
tianity then for the first time came into collision. The
conflict had begun, and the way in which it began left
no doubt on which side the victory would be. Of those
who fell at that time we know only two by name, the
great apostles, St. Peter and St. Paul. The apostle of
the Jews and the apostle of the Gentiles, whose paths
often led them far apart in life, in death united their
praises to the one Lord who "wrought effectually in
Peter to the apostleship of the circumcision and was
mighty in Paul toward the Gentiles " (Gal. ii. 8). The
250 THE PERSECUTION UNDER NERO. [book n.
rest, whose charred and mangled remains were thrown
into a common pit, after the carnival of murder was
past, were probably from the lower classes, artisans and
slaves, nameless in life and nameless in death. But
the seer beheld their souls " under the altar, resting for
a little season until their fellow-servants also and their
brethren, that should be killed, as they were, should be
fulfilled" (Rev. vi. 10, 11). And throughout the book
of Revelation sounds the Hallelujah over the victory
these nameless ones gained by their death, the sure
pledge of the final triumph.
CHAPTER II.
THE CHRISTIANS BEFORE THE TRIBUNALS.
" They toill deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in
their synagogues ; and ye shall he brought before governors and kings for
my sake, for a testimony against them, and the Gentiles." — Matt. x. 17, 18.
I. Trajan's legislation against the christians.
Fearfully as the Neronian persecution raged in
Rome itself, it seems to have been principally confined
to the capital.^ Yet it is not improbable that the man-
ner in which the Emperor himself attacked the confes-
sors of the new faith, drew attention to them where
they were prominent in the provinces, and that in a few
cases the local officials may have proceeded against
them. At least we hear of a martyr Antipas in Perga-
mum (Rev. ii. 13), whose martyrdom probably belongs
to this period. The persecution was like a sudden
storm which soon spent its fury. Those who escaped
the clutches of Nero's minions probably remained in
hiding for a time and then went back to their former
positions, while some who had fled the city were per-
mitted to return without molestation. Tacitus indeed
expressly tells us that the fate of the Christians slain
by Nero awakened sympathy for them (though they
251
252 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book n.
deserved to suffer the worst of punishments), on the
ground that they were destroyed not for the public
good, but to glut the cruelty of a single man. The
only results of Nero's action were that the heroism of
the martyrs strengthened the faith of the survivors,
and the example of the dead stimulated the zeal of the
living. The spread of Christianity was not hindered
but rather helped by this event.
Not until the reign of Domitian do we again hear of
persecutions. Primarily, of course, these had the Jews
for their object. After the destruction of Jerusalem
and of the Temple, they were obliged to pay their for-
mer temple-dues, the Didrachma, to the Capitoline Jupi-
ter, and this poll-tax was often collected in a harsh and
cruel manner, because some Jews refused to pay a trib-
ute to a heathen deity .^ In the conflicts which thus
arose, the Christians, especially the Jewish Christians,
were often involved, for the heathen had not yet learned
to distinguish definitely between Jews and Christians.
We learn also that some v/ere condemned for defection
from the religion of the State to Judaism, or, as the
accusation sometimes reads, for atheism.^ The Empe-
ror condemned even his own cousin. Flavins Clemens
and his wife Flavia Domitilla. Flavins Clemens was
executed soon after the close of A. D. 96, the year of
his consulate, and Flavia Domitilla was banished to
the island Pandateria. The historian Suetonius calls
Clemens a man " of the most despicable indolence." *
Many to-day regard it as clear that the accusation of
being a Christian is covered by this expression, and
therefore that Clemens is to be regarded as a martyr.
But the ancient authorities show no knowledge of this,
and it must appear very doubtful, that, if the Church
CHAP. II.] THE TIME OF DOMITIAN. 253
could really count among the martyrs of that day a
man of consular rank, it could have passed so com-
pletely out of remembrance.^ In any case we here find
the very earliest traces that Christianity had begun to
gain a foothold among the higher classes.
For the first time also there seems to have sprung up
in the ruling circles a certain anxiety on account of
Christianity. Hegesippus ^ informs us, that Domitian
had heard there were still living in Palestine relatives
of Jesus, descendants of the royal house of David.
He was terrified at the news, and summoned them —
two grandsons of Judas, the brother of Jesus — before
him. But, when they told him, that, together, they
possessed only an estate of the value of nine thousand
denarii (about $1,800) and cultivated it themselves, as
they proved by showing their horny hands ; when they
testified on his asking about the kingdom of Christ, that
it was not of this world, and would not come till the
end of all things, the Emperor dismissed them without
doing them any harm.
The persecutions under Domitian were very short,
and Nerva his successor recalled those who had been
banished and restored to them their confiscated posses-
sions, in part from his ]Dnvate purse.
With the beginning of the second century there came
a great change in the situation of the Christians. The
separation of Christianity from Judaism was completed
so as to be recognized even by heathen eyes. The
destruction of Jerusalem put an end to the outward
existence of the Jewish nationality. The temple fell,
the sacrifices ceased. And yet, without a temple, with-
out a daily sacrifice, without a visible centre, Judaism,
the most hardy of national religions, managed to pre-
254 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book ii.
serve its existence, even after the insurrection under
Bar Cocheba had been quenched in blood, and, thereby,
the Jews' last hope of regaining their old position had
been destroyed. Their religion now became consoli-
dated into the real Judaism, in essentials such as we
see it to-day. Spread abroad over the earth, without a
local centre, or the bond which had existed hitherto in
the temple service, Judaism henceforth was united only
by the common Law, and by the common doctrine con-
tained in the newly collected Talmud. Thus it became
completely separated from Christianity. Talmudic Ju-
daism severed all the connections which had hitherto
bound it to Christianity. Henceforth three times every
day in the synagogues was invoked the awful curse on
the renegades, the Christians. It came to be a rare
exception for a Jew to go over to Christianity, while
the heathen thronged into the Church in ever increas-
ing numbers. The remainder of the Jewish Christians
dwindled away or disappeared entirely in the churches
of heathen Christians, or turned heretics and were cut ofp
from the Church. The Church now found the field for
its work and growth almost exclusively in the heathen
world, and became composed entirely of Gentile Chris-
tians. It was therefore no longer possible to confound
the Christians with the Jews. Henceforth they were
recognized by the heathen as a genus tertium, as they
were often called — a third party beside Heathenism
and Judaism.
Thus Christianity lost the protection which it had
hitherto enjoyed as a supposed Jewish sect. Like a
young plant, it now showed itself, free from the sheath
which had shielded it, and exposed to every storm.
From the moment when Christianity was recognized as
CHAP. II.] PLINY'S LETTER TO TRAJAN. 255
a separate religion, it became an illegal religion, and
was attacked by the severe Roman laws against illicit
societies. And thongli tLie change did not at first pro-
duce its full effect, this was because the State had not
yet proclaimed its attitude towards the new religion,
and so the method of procedure lay entirely within
the arbitration of the several governors, some of whom
were already beginning judicial action against the Chris-
tians, while others ignored them. The treatment the
Christians experienced was more or less severe accord-
ing to the personal leanings of the judge, no general
rule having been made. But it soon became necessary
that one should be given. Christianity hitherto little
known, daily gained in prominence. In some provinces
the defection from the religion of the State was so
visible, that the temples were deserted and the meat of
the sacrifices found no buyers. During Trajan's reign
the rage of the people broke out against the Christians
in some places. Spurred on by the priests or roused to
fanaticism by some special occurrence, the mob de-
manded severer penalties against the hated race, or
threatened to administer them with its own hand.
Mob violence could not be tolerated, and thus it be-
came necessary to make rules for the treatment of the
Christians.
The immediate occasion was supplied by a letter
which Pliny the Younger, Proconsul of Bithynia, ad-
dressed to the Emperor in the year A.D. Ill or 112.''
When Pliny came into the province, he was in great
perplexity how to treat the Christians, who were espe-
cially numerous there. Christians of both sexes, and
of all ages and ranks, appeared before his tribunal.
Was he to take into account age, sex, and rank, or to
256 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book n.
treat all alike ? Was he to pardon those who recanted,
or should the renunciation of the faith be of no avail
to one who had been a Christian ? Was the name of
Christian, the mere fact that a man was a Christian,
enough ground for condemnation, even when no crimes
could be proved against him, or should onl}^ any crimes,
that might be connected with the Christian name, re-
ceive punishment ? At first Pliny made a practice of
asking the accused, if they were Christians. When
they confessed it, he repeated his question, adding the
threat of punishment with death. If they remained
stubborn, he had them executed ; for their stubbornness
alone, without regard to other considerations, seemed
to him to merit punishment. But soon other cases
came up, and brought him into still greater perplexity.
Anonymous accusations against the Christians were
sent to him. Ought he to receive them? Some of
those whom he arrested and questioned, denied that
they were Christians, others said they had been Chris-
tians, but were now no longer such. In order to
demonstrate the truth of this assertion, he had images
of the Emperor and of the Gods brought in, and com-
manded the accused to offer incense and to curse Christ,
for he had heard that nothing could persuade real Chris-
tians to do so. When the accused obeyed the command
he set them at liberty. The result of his further in-
quiries as well as what he learned about the new reli-
gion from some deaconesses, questioned under torture,
did not satisfy him. He discovered only a boundless
suj)erstition ; that they came together on an appointed
day, to sing hymns to Christ as a God, and that they
bound themselves by an oath, to do no evil, but to
avoid evil, theft and adultery, and to deceive no Dian.
CHAP, n.] TRAJAN'S EDICT. 257
Then it had been their custom to separate, and to re-
assemble in the evening at a meal, but an entirely inno-
cent meal. Yet they had discontinued this latter, since
the promulgation of the imperial edict forbidding noc-
turnal assemblies. Plainly the Christians in order to
show their obedience to law, had given up the Love-
Feast, hitherto held in the evening. Thus Pliny was
at a loss what to do, yet something must be done, for
the superstition spread like a conflagration, and had
already penetrated from the towns into the country,
while on the other side there seemed to be hope that,
if with firmness mildness were combined, and pardon
extended to those who recanted, the superstition might
be extirpated.
The Emperor in his answer approved in the main the
conduct of Pliny thus far, and without attempting to
give directions for all cases, issued the following orders
for the future. The Christians were not to be sought
out, yet when accused and convicted, they must be
punished. Those however who denied that they were
Christians, and proved it by sacrificing to the gods were
to be pardoned by reason of their recantation, even
though there might be suspicion that the}^ had been
Christians in the past. Trajan closes by saying that
anonymous accusations were not to be received at all,
because that would set a bad example and be unworthy
of the age.
This imperial edict regulated the treatment of the
Christians for more than a century. We cannot deny
that, considered from the Roman's point of view, it does
not belie the clemency and love of justice generally
attributed to Trajan. Christianity seemed to him a
stubborn opposition to the laws of the Empire, and as
258 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book ii.
such it could not be left unpunished. Yet he not only
ordered the strict observance of the forms of law in
dealing with it, but also insisted that all unnecessary
harshness and cruelty be avoided. He treated the
Christians as men Avho had been led astray and whom
he was trying by merciful measures to induce to return.
Trajan indulged the hope that by such means it would
be possible to put an end to the pernicious error, if not
at once yet gradually at least. But sagacious as this
decision and action might appear from the statesman's
point of view, they were none the less mistaken. The
political and judicial point of view is entirely insuffi-
cient for the consideration of this subject. His edict
contained a hidden contradiction, which in time must
come to light and necessitate additional legislation.
Further — and this was the principal mistake — the
Emperor had formed no adequate idea of the strength
of the faith with which he had thus begun a contest
before his tribunals.
Even in the ancient Church the opinions expressed
concerning the Emperor Trajan differed widely. Some
regarded him as the persecutor and some as the pro-
tector of the Church ; his edict was by the one party
viewed as a sword, by the other as a shield. In truth it
was both. It was an edict of persecution, for here for
the first time it was distinctly laid down that to be a
Christian was in itself a capital crime. Henceforth if
any Christian were accused before the tribunal of being
such, capital punishment was executed upon him solely
on account of his Christianity, though no other mis-
deeds could be proved against him; and this punish-
ment could be avoided only by denying his faith. But
on the other hand the Chiistian was by no means an
CHAP. 11.] POSITION OF THE CHRISTIANS. 259
outlaw, a regular indictment and a judicial process were
necessary for liis condemnation. The edict was thus a
protection, to the extent that Christians could be pun-
ished only by way of a legal trial, so that the law gave
to them the same protection as it did to criminals.
More, indeed, for the governors were forbidden to admit
anonymous accusations or to seek out the Christians by
means of the police. Thus Christians might remain in
peace so long as no accuser came forward.
But here an internal contradiction appears in the
edict itself. TertuUian indeed had a right to exclaim : ^
" What a self-contradictory sentence ! He forbids their
being sought out, as if they were innocent, and com-
mands that they be punished as if they were guilty."
There was a yet greater contradiction in punishing
those who confessed that they were Christians, while
those who denied their faith by bringing a sacrifice to
the heathen gods were to be set at liberty. For if it
was a crime to be a Christian, it was also a crime to
have been a Christian. Would a thief, for instance, be
liberated on his mere promise to steal no more ? Yet
the Emperor cannot be reproached with this inconsist-
ency. His aim was to suppress Christianity. On that
point the edict betrays no vacillation, and contains no
contradiction. The being a Christian was clearly des-
ignated as a crime which was to be suppressed. But
he cherished the hope of succeeding by milder measures,
and of reaching thereby with all the more certainty his
object, the suppression of Christianity, Because a few
had shown themselves ready for recantation, it was sup-
posed that the majority could be persuaded to it in like
manner, while the few who remained stubborn could be
put out of the way. The calculation was mistaken.
260 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book n.
because the self-sacrificing heroism of the Christians
was not taken into account; because it was not known
that "the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the
church." ^
In spite of the leniency of the edict the position of
the Christians was still one of great difficulty. It is
true that wholesale executions did not take place. The
legends of such executions are legends, and transfer to
this period what really belonged to a later age. We
have even reason to believe that the number who in
those times died for their faith was comparatively small.
But the sword hung, so to speak, every moment over
their heads. They could not hide their faith without
denying it. Every occasion called for a confession, and
out of every confession an accusation might grow.
Nothing more was needed to bring a Christian to trial,
than that some one from religious zeal or private spite
should inform against him. Instances are given which
show that the conduct of the Christians towards the
images of the gods, or at public festivals gave occasion
for accusation ; that workmen informed against their
fellows, and men against their wives.
A heathen woman had become converted, and, as a
Christian, renounced her former voluptuous life. After
trying in vain to win her husband over to the faith, and
since on the other hand he used every means to draw
her back into his godless life, no course was open to
her, but to separate herself from him. Then her hus-
band accused her of being a Christian. She confessed
and suffered for her faith.^^ Well-disposed governors
exercised extreme leniency, but with definite accusa-
tions they could not do otherwise than carry out the
existing laws. And when the Christians had enjoyed
CHAP. II.] DANGERS OF THE CHRISTIANS. 261
tranquillity for a time, any day might bring a governor
of a different disposition who would act with the great-
est severity. In some places the rage of the multitude
was kindled against the Christians. At the festivals of
their gods, and at the games, incited by the priests or
by wandering magicians, and intoxicated with sensual
pleasure, the heathen would demand the death of the
Christians. In great calamities the Christians were said
to have aroused the anger of the gods. " The Chris-
tians to the lions ! " was then the cry. For indeed the
decree of the Emperor had opened the way for the pop-
ular fury, though on the other hand it did not satisfy
the people's hatred of the Christians, nourished as that
was by the most horrible rumors. The Christians were
branded by the decree as those who had no right to
exist, as enemies of the State and of the gods ; and it
was difficult to deny to the people, when they earnestly
demanded it, the death of these enemies of the gods and
of the State. Such was the state of things under Tra-
jan and his successors. Persecution blazed up fre-
quently in different places, sometimes more sometimes
less severe, sometimes fanned by the severity of the
governor, at others by the rage of the people, sometimes
confined within the fixed forms of judicial procedure,
while elsewhere these forms gave way to the pressure
exerted by an excited mob.
Two facts stand out clearly from the history of this
period. Firsts that persecution had not the power to
stop the growth of the Church. Though a few were
driven back by fear, though weaklings became desert-
ers, yet on the whole, the Christians showed themselves
(to borrow Tertullian's expression ^^) " a people always
prepared to die." Among the prominent persons who
262 TRAJAN'S LEGISLATION. [book ii.
suffered martyrdom during this period, the names of
two, Simeon, bishop of Jerusalem, and Ignatius, bishop
of Antioch, have been handed down, who met their
death in the reign of Trajan. The former is said to
have been a relative of Jesus, a son of Mary the wife
of Cleophas (John xix. 25), and to have been crucified
when one hundred and twenty years old ; the latter
was sent to Rome and exposed to the wild beasts.
Several martyrs are also mentioned who suffered in the
reign of Hadrian. The sinister spirit which over-
shadowed the Emperor towards the end of his stormy
life, and instigated him to deeds of cruelty in his last
years, seems to have led him into some isolated acts of
persecution, though he appears to have been, apart from
these, indifferent to the Christians, whom he regarded
as equally foolish and ridiculous with other fanatics. In
his reign, Telesphorus, bishop of Rome, suffered mar-
tyrdom; the first time, so far as we know, that a
Roman bishop fell a victim. -^^
History narrates also the martyrdom of a mother
called Sj^mphorosa, which resembles that of the mother
of the Maccabees. Her husband Getulius, and her
brother Amatius had already been executed as martyrs,
Vvdien to her and to her seven sons was given the choice :
to sacrifice, or to die. She remained firm and answered :
" You think then to turn me by fear, but I desire only
to rest in peace with my husband Getulius, whom you
have put to death for Christ's name's sake." She was
drowned, and then her seven sons one after the other
suffered death in various ways.^^ In Asia the procon-
sul Arrius Antoninus (afterwards the Emperor Anto-
ninus Pius) had already condemned many Christians,
when one day the Christians appeared in such numbers
CHAP, n.] ANTONINUS AND HADRIAN. 263
before his judgment-seat, that he recognized the impos-
sibility of punishing them all. He arrested some from
among them and dismissed the rest with the words :
" Miserable men, if ye desire to die, have ye not ropes
and precipices ! " ^* During the reign of Antoninus
Pius also, the Christians were now and then molested.
Secondly, it is plain that this judicial action against
the Christians became more and more insufficient. As
the number of the Christians increased, the fury of the
people increased also, and the well-meant attempts of
the several governors, and even of the Emperor himself,
to confine the persecution strictly within the limits of
judicial action were unsuccessful. There is extant a
rescript of Hadrian addressed to the Proconsul of Asia,
in which he condemns a tumultuous rising against the
Christians, which had taken place, and insists upon a
regular judicial process for the future. When those in
the provinces brought an accusation against the Chris-
tians, they must themselves appear before the judgment
seat and prove their accusation, but no attention was
to be paid to mere petitions and popular clamor, lest
the innocent should be punished and informers should
have opportunities for extortion.^^ Conscientious gov-
ernors acted henceforth on this rescript. Vespronius
Candidus set a Christian at liberty, saying, that it was
illegal to yield to the clamor of the masses. Another
governor, Pudens, acted in the same way when he saw
from the protocol transmitted to him, that the accused
had been set upon with tumult and threats, and ex-
plained that he could not legally hear the case without
a special accuser. And yet Antoninus Pius had to
issue new rescripts of like tenor. There arose in Greece
a severe persecution in which Publius, the bishop of
264 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
Athens, lost his life.^^ The Emperor sent rescripts to
Larissa and to Thessalonica, in which he forbade the
introduction of new measures in the treatment of the
Christians, and ordered that the limits prescribed b}'
Trajan's edict should be strictly observed.^^ And in all
probability this was generally done in the time of Anto-
ninus Pius. His reign was peaceful and happy, and
there were no special events to stir up the anger of the
people. But the case was different under Marcus Aure-
lius. Though it has been truly said that under the
Antonines the stream of Roman history appears yet
once more as a calm and peaceful lake, and then swiftly
shoots towards the precipice, yet in the time of Marcus
Aurelius we become aware that the waters begin to
flow more rapidly. We are come to an epoch in Roman
history, which also marks an epoch in the conflict of
Christianity.
II. THE INCREASING INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY.
If we glance at the position of Christianity, we shall
soon realize what progress it had made. It is true that
all trustworthy data for even an approximate estimate
of the number of Christians are wanting. Estimates
like those of Tertullian — that the Christians of a
single province were more numerous than the whole
Roman army, which would make a total of about nine
million Christians in the Empire, or that Carthage would
have to be decimated if all the Christians were to be
punished ^^ — are worthless, being mere rhetoric. The
Christians were certainly not nearly so numerous at
that time, and their numbers probably varied a great
deal in different countries. In the East the Church
had made much greater progress than in the West. By
CHAP. II.] THE APOLOGISTS. 265
this time it had almost become the national church in
Eastern Syria. There Christianity first won a throne
in Abgar Bar Manu (A.D. 152-187) whose coins first
bore the sign of the cross. It need scarcely be said
that elsewhere the Christians formed a decided minor-
ity, decreasing towards the "West. But never again
were they such a despised handful of the uneducated
lower classes, as they had been at the beginning of the
century. They could already count the illustrious, the
rich, and the well-educated among their associates. In
the time of Hadrian, Aristides and Quadratus the phi-
losophers went over to Christianity. Later followed
Justin, who had studied the heathen philosophy of all
the schools, the orator Miltiacles, the Roman lawyer
Minucius Felix, the learned and eloquent Athenagoras
and the Stoic Pantsenus "famous for erudition."
The conflict with Heathenism now began in litera-
ture also. Christianity had hitherto spread mainly in
obscurity, and its adherents, — "a dumb folk babbling
only in corners," ^^ as the heathen mockingly called
them, — had defended themselves simply by silence and
endurance. But now men schooled in classic learning
and mighty in eloquence come forward in their writings
as the champions of Christianity. The first apologetic
essays belong to the reign of Hadrian, and there is
extant from the time of the Antonines a rich apolo-
getic literature, which shows what advances Chris-
tianity had made in that direction. Justin appeals
to the pious Emperor Antoninus and to the truth-
loving Marcus Aurelius, his adopted son, in order
to demand from the rulers' piety and love of truth
justice for " the unjustly hated and persecuted." "^^ His
second Apology was addressed to the senate and to the
266 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
whole Roman people, with a boldness regardless of con-
sequences, although he knew and foretold that this
defence of a just cause would bring death upon him.
Others, like Athenagoras, appeal in a similar manner
to the Emperors or directly to the public, for the Apolo-
gies addressed to the rulers were intended for a larger
audience. To the latter class belong the treatise ad-
dressed to Autolycus b}^ Theophilus of Antioch, and the
beautiful dialogue Octavius by Minucius Felix, in which
Christianity was for the first time defended in the Latin
language. ^^ The former aimed at altering the attitude
of the rulers, the latter rather at the conversion of their
heathen readers.
The first task of the Apologists was to refute the
charges which were made against Christianity ; to prove
that the Christians were not atheists as they were ac-
cused of being, nor guilty of such abominations as the
rumors of Thyestean banquets and CEdipodean alliances
imputed to them, nor finally enemies of the Emperor
and the State. Next in importance was the removal of
the general prejudice which the heathen entertained
against the new faith. This could be accomplished
only by making the heathen acquainted with the nature
of Christianity, for most of their prejudices arose from
ignorance. Therefore the Apologists clearly explain
the doctrines and principles, the customs and usages,
and the whole moral aspect of Christianity. They urge
in support of its truth the fulfillment of prophecy, the
excellence of its doctrines, the influence of the faith on
the lives of its adherents, their purity of conduct, their
activity in works of love, their silent endurance and
the heroism with which they met death.
At this point they assume the offensive; apology
CHAP. II.] APOLOGETIC ARGUMENTS. 267
becomes polemic. They put clearly and sharply before
the heathen the foolishness of idolatry, the immodest
character of the images which were fashioned by de-
praved artists and cared for by dissolute guardians;
the immorality of the myths wliich constituted the
reading of the heathen; the immorality of art which
exhibited most shameless displays ; finally the fruit of
all this as shown in heathen life which was a stagnant
pool of immorality — these things were held up before
the heathen with the greatest clearness and directness.
But the Apologists did not stop there. They recog-
nized not only that side of Heathenism which is opposed
to Christianity, but also that which is favorable to it.
Their endeavor was not to make the gulf between
Christianity and Heathenism as wide and impassable as
they could, but to bring Christianity as near as possible
to Heathenism. Therefore they sought out foreshadow-
ings of Christianity in Heathenism, parallels between
the teachings of the philosophers and those of Chris-
tianity, types and prophecies of it in the heathen world.
It may sound strangely to us when Justin Martyr-^
reminds the heathen that they have the figure of the
cross, which they so despise, before them everywhere,
in their tools, in their windows and doors, in the erect
form of man and even in their banners and emblems of
victory. But in all this play of fancy by which Justin
seeks to present the cross to the heathen as something
long known and typically prefigured everywhere in
nature and life, there is a deeper meaning. Justin is
really following in the path marked out by Paul at
Athens, when he took occasion from the inscription of
a heathen altar To an unknown God to preach this
unknown God to the heathen. But Justin brings for-
268 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
ward still another cause for the original destination of
man for Christianity, from which spring all these un-
conscious intimations of Christianity in Heathenism.
It is found in the doctrine of the Logos (the word^
John i. 1), of which he makes this application. The
Logos was made flesh in Christ, but while the Chris-
tians possess as it were the entire Logos, the Lord Jesus
Christ, yet fragments of the Logos, sporadic manifesta-
tions of it are scattered through the heathen world.
There the activity of the Logos has been displayed
in the philosophers, poets, and lawgivers. Hence the
echoes of Christian truth found in heathen treatises
and poems, and the manifold excellences of heathen
legislation ! Moreover the great men among the hea-
then, their men of heroic virtue, became what they
were through the Logos. All these are as it were frag-
ments of Christianity in Heathenism which should at-
tract the heathen to embrace the perfect whole. ^^ Still
more definitely is the age of Heathenism recognized as
a time of preparation for Christianity in the Epistle to
Diognetus.^^ In order to answer the question so often
put by the heathen, why God had sent His Son so late,
the author explains that the world had first to grow
ripe for the mission of Christ. There are indeed Apol-
ogists whose v/ritings contain scarcely any thing but
polemics ; Tatian for instance, who can see in Heathen-
ism only folly and wickedness, and who can discern no
good thing in all its products.^'' But such are ex-
ceptions.
Speaking generally, there is audible in all the Apol-
ogetic writings of the period a tone of winning love,
which finds its most beautiful rendering in the noble
epistle to Diognetus, to which reference has often been
CHAP, n.] EFFECT OF THE APOLOGIES. 269
made. The Apologists aimed not to repel but to
attract, and for this purpose they made use of every
point of contact with Christianity which they could
find in Heathenism or in the souls of the heathen.
Christianity was viewed by the heathen as something
antagonistic to human nature ; the Apologists showed
that it was the realization of true humanity, for as
Tertullian later so beautifully said, " the human soul is
naturally Christian." ^^
It would be very interesting to know what impression
these Apologies made upon the heathen; but this is
denied to us, for a direct trace of their influence is
nowhere to be found. Even Celsus, in whose time a
number of Apologetic Avritings were in existence, gives
them so little attention that we cannot even tell whether
he had read them or not. But this at least is clear,
that it was no longer possible to ignore a religion which
entered the arena in such a manner. The policy of
ignoring Christianity was forever at an end. In the
former half of the century the educated heathen had
considered it beneath their dignity to concern them-
selves with the " barbarian superstition." But now this
had changed. The philosopher Crescens disputed in
Rome concerning the Christian faith with Justin. But,
of course, when he could not conquer by argiunent he
resorted to denunciation and sought to confute his
antagonist by means of the death sentence from the
judge. Fronto, the rhetorician, the teacher of the
Emperor Marcus Aurelius, one of the most celebrated
men of his time, who was regarded by his contempo-
raries as an unsurpassed master of eloquence, and
worthy of disputing Cicero's pre-eminence, — Fronto
felt the necessity of employing his skill in an attack
270 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book it.
upon Christianity. This was the first heathen contro-
versial work of which we know, but it was soon cast
into the shade by the treatise of Celsus, which was far
more comprehensive in its scope and based upon actual
study of Christianity. Lucian, the popular scoffer,
scoffed at Christianity, and even the Emperor could
not forbear making occasional mention of it in his
Meditations. Although the opinions expressed were
all unfavorable, some of them full of bitter hatred, yet
they bear witness to the fact that Christianity had come
to be felt as a force in the mental life of the period.
It was impossible that communities like the Christian
churches of that time, possessing such an energy of
faith and love, should exist in the midst of the heathen
world, without exercising an influence outside their
own sphere on the views and lives of those who con-
tinued heathen. There was, so to speak, a Christian
atmosphere which was diffused around the Church and
penetrated ever deeper into the atmosphere of Heathen-
ism so that gradually even there the air of Christianity
began to be breathed. But, certain as the assumption
is that this diffusion, which resulted from the nature of
the case, really took place ; yet it is impossible, at least
in this period when it had but just begun, to prove its
existence, much less to gauge its progress. The pro-
cess was of too spiritual, intangible a nature to be
measured, or to permit the assertion that this or that
change in the heathen world took place under the in-
fluence of Christianity. There was as yet no outward
sign of it. Even in Tertullian's time, several decades
later, the towns still wore quite their old heathen aspect,
images of the gods were still displayed everywhere in
the streets and squares, the shops and houses. But the
CHAP. II.] CHANGES IN THE HEATHEN WORLD. 271
outward signs of Christianity could not appear until it
had become the ruling power. On the other hand we
may discover even at this time a series of phenomena
in the heathen world which are foreign to the antique
spirit, but remarkably akin to the spirit of Christianity.
Let us dwell for a moment on this most interesting
fact. According to the spirit of the ancient world a
man was not the object of his own life, but served only
as a means in realizing the ideal, which was political —
the State. Hence a man was worth just so much as he
contributed to this ideal. He was nothing in and of
himself, but only with reference to his earthly destiny
did he count for any thing. For this reason, woman,
child, and slave counted for nothing, since they contrib-
uted nothing to the ideal of the State. Only the citizen
was of any value, he alone had rights. - Under Chris-
tianity every human being as such is of value entirely
apart from his particular destiny on earth. The Holy
Spirit seeks the salvation of every soul, and though He
establishes a kingdom, the kingdom of God, it is com-
posed of sanctified and blessed individuals. The tem-
ple which God is building consists of living stones,
and each single stone is also itself a temple. Each
individual becomes an end in the common end and
goal, God's kingdom. But now — the interesting fact
referred to — Heathenism made an approach to Chris-
tianity in precisely this characteristic. In contradiction
to the genuine and uniform spirit of the ancient world,
the individual came more and more to have rights even
in the view of the heathen ; a human being began with
them to have a value as such.
This is seen in the case of woman. The claims of
woman gained greater recognition, in respect to the
272 nSTFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
property of married women and in other matters. A
husband could now be arraigned by his wife for adul-
tery, no longer only the wife by the husband. The
change showed still more plainly in the treatment of
children. The Roman of the ancient stamp showed
little love and tenderness to his children. Cicero says :
" Wheii a child dies young, it is easy to be consoled ; if
it dies in the cradle no concern is felt about it ; " and
when a child of his daughter dies he speaks of the
event with entire equanimity."^ How tender, on the
other hand, was the feeling of Marcus Aurelius towards
his grandchildren ! How he grieves when they happen
to be sick, and with v/hat anxiety does he speak in his
letters of the cough which his dear little Antoninus has.
The " little nestling " occupied his thoughts amid all his
solicitude about the Empire, and his friend the orator
Fronto does not fail to present his greetings to the
"little ladies," and to ask Marcus Aurelius "to kiss for
him their fat little feet and dainty hands." ^^
Hitherto children had possessed no rights. They
were completely in the power of the father, who might
do what he pleased with them, even kill or expose them.
But at this time the paternal power underwent increas-
ing limitations. Exposed children might according to
the ancient law be treated as slaves by those who
brought them up. Trajan decreed that they should be
free. Alexander Sever us allowed to the father the right
of reclaiming his child, provided that he repaid the
expense of its maintenance. Children began to be the
objects of much more care in all respects. Famous
philosophers recommended mothers to nurse their chil-
dren themselves, a practice which had for some time
entirely ceased among the higher classes.^^ We find
CHAP. II.] KINDNESS TO CHILDREN. 273
inscriptions in which a mother boasts of having nursed
her children herself, or a son eulogizes his mother by
inscribing on her tomb that she was also his nurse.^"
The training of children became a favorite theme with
authors in this period. Seldom has so much been said
and written on this subject as in the age of the Anto-
nines. Poor children too, for the first time, received
attention. Hitherto children had been given nothing in
the distribution of corn, but now five thousand chil-
dren received their tesserce. This became the rule in
the time of Trajan, but it seems to have occurred
before in exceptional cases.
But most remarkable of all were the institutions
for bringing up poor children, commenced by Nerva,
and greatly extended by Trajan and his successors.^^
The Emperor provided for the care of five thousand
children in Rome, and also for a considerable number
in other Italian towns and in Africa. From monuments
fortunately preserved we gain a tolerably definite idea
of this arrangement. The Emperor had lent to the
town of Yeleia near Placentia funds (1,116,000 sesterces
=^ about 855,800) for the improvement of its land. In
return a rent of 55,800 sesterces (about |2,790) was
levied on the land. From this sum 263 boys were to
receive 16 sesterces each per month (about ^9.60 per
annum), and 35 girls 12 sesterces each per month (about
'$7.20 per annum), and also two illegitimate children
were to be supported. The boys received this support
until they were eighteen, when they could take service
in the legions ; the girls until they were fourteen. Ha-
drian and the Antonines enlarged these institutions,
Commodus and Pertinax abolished them, but they were
re-established by Alexander Severus. This charity had,
274 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
it is true, a prominent political object, as is plain from
the fact that the number of boys supported so greatly
preponderates. The intention was to furnish a valu-
able contingent to the army : " nourished by thee they
enter thy service," says Pliny in his panegyric on Tra-
jan.^^ Yet this was not simply a political institution,
humanity had also a share in it. When Antoninus
lost his wife Faustina, he thought that the best way to
honor her memory was to found an institution for the
support of poor girls (the puellce Faustiniance) ; and
Alexander Severus established a similar institution in
honor of his mother Mammsea (the pueri Mammceani).^^
Persons in private stations began also to found chari-
ties of this kind. Pliny, for instance, endowed one in
Como with 30,000 sesterces per annum (about $1,500).^*
A rich lady provided for the support of one hundred
children in Terracina, and gave for that purpose 1,000,-
000 sesterces (about $50,000).^^ All such institutions
were hitherto unheard of in the ancient world, and
the change in the spiritual atmosphere of the period is
most clearly illustrated in a relief on the column of
Trajan, which represents the Emperor in the act of dis-
tributing gifts to poor children.
From this time the instances of such manifestations
of mercy and love become everywhere more numerous,
even among the heathen. Pliny gave his nurse an
estate which had cost him 100,000 sesterces (about
$5,000), and provided a dowry for the daughter of one
of his friends.^^ He founded libraries or schools for
the towns which had claims upon him, since he thought
them a greater benefit than gladiatorial shows.^^ Such
deeds of philanthropy are also mentioned in inscrip-
tions. A dealer in healing herbs Qaromatarius'), in a
CHAP. II.] SLAVERY AMELIORATED. 275
little Italian town, left by will to the town 300 jars of
drugs and 6,000 sesterces (about $300), in order that
medicine might be gratuitously dispensed to the poor.
Inscribed on a tomb we find these words : " Do good,
and thou wilt carry it with thee."^^ Yet such senti-
ments were far from being general, as may be gathered
from the casual remark of Pliny, when he calls the
good works we have mentioned " useful but not very
popular." The people doubtless still preferred gladia-
torial shows.
The condition of the slaves also began to improve.
How different was Pliny's treatment of his slaves, from
Gate's. While Gate's slaves were compelled to work in
chains, and find a sleeping-place among the stalls of
the oxen, on Pliny's estates no slave ever worked in
chains, but their master permitted them to acquire
property, and even ate at the same table with his freed-
men. Pliny was not ashamed to give expression to his
sorrow over the death of a slave, nor did he restrain
his tears, but he takes occasion to say, " I know that
not all think as I do, that many see in the death of a
slave only a pecuniary loss, and that they think them-
selves greater and wiser by reason of this lack of feel-
ing." ^^ More significant than such utterances of an
individual is the fact that the law now began to take
the slaves under its protection. Hadrian forbade the
arbitrary killing of slaves; they were to be brought
to trial, and condemned, if guilty. He prohibited the
sale of slaves, male or female, for disgraceful purposes.
The ergastula were abolished, and the law which had
destroyed so many innocent persons, even as late as
the time of Nero — namely, that when a master was
murdered, and the assassin was not discovered, all
276 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book n
slaves under the same roof with the murdered man
forfeited their lives — was restricted so that only those
were to be executed who were so near their master,
that they might have been witnesses of the deed.
Further, slaves could in certain cases be admitted as
witnesses; they could use their property for the pur-
chase of their freedom, and public slaves were per-
mitted to bequeath by will more than half of their
possessions. All this is novel, and when we remember
what were the views of Plato and Aristotle and even
Cicero, concerning slavery, we recognize the great dif-
ference in tone of these words written by Ulpian, the
great jurist of the age of the Antonines : " According
to natural law, all men are born free ; in civil law, it is
true, slaves are treated as having no rights; not so, how-
ever, by natural law, for by this all men are equal." ^^
We often meet, in this period, with similar asser-
tions of the equality of all men, that they are all
brothers, all fellow-citizens. Such assertions begin to
be common property, and no one gives them more
definite expression than the Emperor Marcus Aurelius.
" If our intellectual part is common," he says in his
Meditations^ "the reason also, in respect of which we
are rational beings, is common : and if this is so, com-
mon also is the reason which commands us what to do,
and what not to do : if this is so, there is a common
law also ; if this is so, we are fellow-citizens ; if this is
so, we are members of some political community ; if
this is so the world is in a manner a state." '*^
Free labor, too, began gradually to gain ground, and
to receive its due honor. This was largely due to the
guilds of artisans which were given their freedom by
Severus and Caracalla, and soon attained a most
OHAP. n.] THESE REFORMS NOT CHRISTIAN. 277
flourishing condition. In this direction, also, legisla-
tion had become more liberal and humane.
But all this was foreign to the spirit of the classic
world. These were the first breathings of a new world,
— a new social order. Was this development under
the influence of the Christian spirit? and, if so, to
what degree ? — these are questions as difficult as they
are interesting.
Some^^ have believed that we may recognize the fruit
of Christianity in this gradual change, which, from
this time forward, became ever more perceptible. They
place it all to the credit of the Christian Church, and
weave from it a wreath of very doubtful glory. Doubt-
ful, because if the Church could then exercise so per-
vading an influence on heathen life and Roman legis-
lation, it becomes impossible to understand why the
complete transformation of the heathen state into a
Christian government was so slowly brought to pass.
And it is especially worthy of notice that the Christians
of that day viewed the matter otherwise. The. reforms
we have described within Heathenism, in the interests
of humanity, did not escape the sharp eye of Tertullian,
for he speaks of them in his Apologeticus. Yet he does
not use them as a proof of the influence of Christianity,
but, assuming their independent heathen origin, ad-
duces them to show, according to his favorite argument,
that in this direction, no less than in others, there is, in
the natural order of development, a current which sets
towards Christianity; that, to use his own expression,
"the soul is Christian by nature." If we remember
that this whole change in the views of the heathen
commenced before any influence from the spirit of
Christianity could be thought of, that it may be traced
278 INFLUENCE OF CHUISTIANITY. [eook n.
back even to Augustus ; if we note that its source is
clearly to be recognized in the then prevalent Stoic
philosophy; and if we realize, as is implied in the
statement just made, that there was a great difference
between this humane reform and the new life infused
by Cliristianity ; then we can no longer remain in doubt
of the real nature of this reform. It was an indepen-
dent development in which the heathen world took a
step to meet Christianity, just as we have seen that in
Heathenism a Universalism sprang up which prepared
the way for the universal claims of Christianity. In
this also we see the way in which God led the heathen
towards His Son, and here too we recognize that " the
fulness of the time was come."
But if this was a movement entirely apart from the
influence, and parallel to the course of Christianity, the
further question arises : at what point is the confluence of
the two currents, where does the course of Heathenism
come under the control of the progress of Christianity
and coalesce with it ? Of course the exact point cannot
be determined with certainty ; for such spiritual cur-
rents make a hidden, a subterranean course, so to speak,
long before they become visible and traceable. The
influence of Christianity on Heathenism cannot be
traced in the time of Marcus Aurelius. We find no
evidence of it in Celsus, in whom if anywhere it would
show itself. Celsus, though he is forced against his will
to recognize the power of Christianity, yet occupies a
position of unqualified opposition to it. But only a
few decades later the influence of Christianity on
Heathenism gives most striking proofs of its existence.
In the receptions of Julia Domna, the talented consort
of the Emperor, Septimius Severus, who drew around
CHAP. II.] HEATHEN VIEWS OF CHRISTIANITY. 279
her a circle of philosophers, rhetoricians and jurists,
it was recognized that Christianity contained many ele-
ments in which Heathenism was deficient, and the ques-
tion was discussed how these advantages of Christianity
could be transferred to Heathenism. This circle pro-
duced the remarkable book of Philostratus, the biog-
raphy of Apollonius of Tyana, in which characteristics
drawn from the portrait of the despised Jesus are trans-
ferred to the heathen Prophet, — not to call him the
heathen Messiah. But if the influence of Christianity
on heathen modes of thought can from this time no
longer be denied, then, in my view at least, it is not .
rash to assume that even in the time of Marcus Aure-
lius a silent, intangible and yet really existing influence
was at work.
But even if the existence of such an influence be
utterly denied in this period, there are not wanting
other signs of the extent to which Christianity had
become a power. The heathen world trembled for the
first time with the fear that this Christianity hitherto |
so thoroughly despised might gain the ascendancy. It 1
is only necessary to read Celsus in order to perceive
the anxiety with which he already viewed the numbers
of the Christians to which he often alludes. He even
imagines the possibility of their controlling affairs, and
can then see in the future nothing but a frightful
catastrophe in which the Empire would be wrecked.
The Barbarians would conquer the Emperor deserted
by his subjects, and usurp the supremacy, and no
smallest vestige of the Christian worship or of the
true wisdom would remain.^^ It was this anxiety
which arose spontaneously among the heathen, the
half-felt consciousness that they were already under
280 INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
the ban of the new faith, which at this time roused to
the utmost the rage of the people against the Chris-
tians. Great calamities came upon the Empire in the
reign of Marcus Aurelius. In the East the Parthians
crossed the frontier, and laid waste the country. When
the Emperor had been successful in driving back the
foe, and even regaining Mesopotamia, which had been
given up by Hadrian, the arm}^ brought back with it
from the East a terrible plague, which traversed the
entire Empire, carried off countless multitudes, and left
whole districts completely desolate. To this succeeded
a not less terrible famine, and when the strength and
courage of the people had been enfeebled by the united
pestilence and famine, war broke out along the Danube
with the Marcomanni, a war which proved one of the
severest in which Rome ever engaged. These were
the first waves of the migration of the nations, which,
threatening the destruction of the Empire, were beat-
ing against its frontiers. In this time of distress the
heathen sought help from their gods, and the Emperor
himself instituted expiatory sacrifices and offerings.
The people, excited to fanaticism, saw in their mis-
fortunes the anger of the gocls, which the Christians
were supposed to have incurred. More zealously than
ever before were spread the rumors of the revolting
crimes of the Christians, which found an apparent con-
firmation in occasional confessions wrung from them by
torture, and which even to a man like Fronto were the
most weighty charge against them. Such godless men
must be utterly destroyed in order to appease the anger
of the gods.
The Christians on their part made their appeal to
the Emperors' love of justice. The object of their
CHAP, n.] JUSTT>J MARTYR'S APPEAL. 281
entreaties and demands was not as yet recognition, not
yet complete religious freedom. The thought of these
was yet in the background and was first made prominent
by the Apologists of the third century. Before this the
Christians asked only that the justice of the Emperors
would put an end to the unjust persecutions and con-
demnations. " In behalf of those men of all nations
who are unjustly hated and oppressed, I, Justin, . . .
being one of them, have composed this address and
petition. . . . Since then joii are universally termed
pious and philosophers and guardians of justice and
lovers of learning, it shall now be seen whether you are
indeed such. For we have not come to flatter you by
these writings of ours, nor to seek to please by our
address ; but to make our claim to be judged after a
strict and searching inquiry ; so that neither by preju-
dice nor desire of popularity from the superstitious,
nor by any unthinking impulse of zeal, nor by that evil
report which has so long kept possession of your minds,
you may be urged to give a decision against yourselves.
For it is our maxim that we can suffer harm from none,
unless we be convicted as doers of evil, or proved to be
wicked. You may, indeed, slay us, but hurt us you can-
not. But, lest any should say that this is a senseless
and rash assertion, I entreat that the charges against us
may be examined ; and, if they be substantiated, let us
be punished as is right. But if no man can convict
us of any crime, true reason does not allow jou through
a wicked report to wrong the innocent, or rather your-
selves, who are disposed to direct affairs not by judg-
ment but by passion." ^* This plea was well founded ;
and the Christians were too fully persuaded of the jus-
tice of their cause, not to expect justice from an Em-
282 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book ii.
per or like Marcus Aurelius. They were mistaken. It
was under Marcus Aurelius that the persecution grew
more severe than ever before. They asked for peace,
and the Emperor by reason both of his personal atti-
tude and of the situation of the Empire could not give
them any other answer than war.
in. THE PERSECUTION UNDER MARCUS AURELIUS.
Marcus Aurelius was one of the best Emperors who
ever ascended the Roman throne. Great earnestness
and an almost excessive conscientiousness are the prin-
cipal traits of his character. He was Emperor from a
sense of duty, because the Gods had placed him at
that post, and he must therefore occupy it. The im-
perial dignity was for him an office which he must
administer, and this he did gratuitously, for his personal
wants were supplied from his private purse. To pre-
serve peace of soul amid all the vicissitudes of life, and
his life contained many ; to be true to himself, just and
merciful towards others ; to be moderate in all things,
and to follow the voice of conscience regardless of
men's praise or blame, — such were the duties he re-
quired from himself. Till the end of his life he toiled
at the elevation of his own moral character. His Medi-
tations^ twelve books " addressed to himself," a kind of
diary which he wrote in part amid the turmoil of war
" in the land of the Quadi," bear witness to this. In
them he sets before himself a lofty ideal, and it must be
allowed that he earnestly strove to realize it. Man is
in his view a being created for disinterested activity,
and lies under an obligation to labor unweariedly for
the good of his fellows, regardless of gratitude or re-
ward. " When thou hast done a good act, a-nd another
CHAP. II.] CHARACTER OF THE EMPEROR. 283
has received it, why dost thou still look for a third
thing besides these, as fools do, either to have the repu-
tation of having done a good act or to obtain a return ? "
" Art thou not content that thou hast done something
conformable to thy nature, and dost thou seek to be
paid for it ? Just as if the eye demanded a recompense
for seeing or the feet for walking." All men, he often
emphatically lays down, are brothers ; even wicked men
are only erring ones, who act in oijposition to their
better selves. " Men exist for the sake of one another.
Teach them, then, or bear with them," ^^ And this very
Emperor who would have men tolerate the wicked as
erring brethren, and whose administration of justice
was so painfully conscientious, that he would spend
whole days in the investigation of a single case, in order
to be certain of not wronging any one, — this Emperor
was destined to be one of the most determined perse-
cutors of the Christians, that is, do the greatest of
wrongs to the best of men.
Marcus Aurelius was a Stoic, and though the virtue I
of humility was foreign to the entire antique world, \
of the Stoic philosophy we may say that its very life
was pride. The Emperor's religion was a fatalistic
Pantheism; Nature was his God. "Every thing har-
monizes with me, which is harmonious to thee, O Uni-
verse ! Nothing for me is too early or too late, which
is in due time for thee. Every thing is fruit to me
which thy seasons bring, O Nature ! from thee are all
things, in thee are all things, to thee all things return."
In proud resignation to the decisions of fate he sought
his peace. " Willingly give thyself up to Clotho, allow-
ing her to spin thy thread into whatever things she
pleases." Marcus Aurelius believed that he could \
284 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book ii.
realize his moral ideal by liis own power. He believed
in himself and at bottom in himself only. " It is suffi-
cient to attend to the deemon (good Genius) within,
and to reverence him sincerely." The sage holds inti-
mate communion with him who is enshrined within.
" Bear it constantly in mind that thou must exhibit the
steadfast character which becomes a man." "And
further let the deity which is in thee be the guardian
of a living being, manly and of ripe age, and engaged
in matter political, and a Roman, and a ruler, who has
taken his post like a man waiting for the signal which
summons him from life, and ready to go, having need
neither of oath nor of any man's testimony." We can
distinctly hear in this the Pharisaical tone : " God, I
thaiik thee that I am not as other men are." " Call to
recollection," he soliloquizes, "that the history of thy
life is now complete, and thy service is ended : and how
many beautiful things thou hast seen ; and how many
pleasures and pains thou hast despised ; and how many
things called honorable thou hast spurned; and to
how many ill-minded folks thou hast shown a kind
disposition." ^^
A man who took this attitude could only reject the
story of the cross, the gospel of grace for sinners.
Marcus Aurelius w^s far too much of a slave to his
philosophic tl:i^0^ie's7 far too thoroughly steeped in the
prejudices of the schools, to be able to give a hearing
to the artless message of salvation. He was far too
proud and cold to receive from the Christians' joy in
their faith, any other impression than that of fanaticism.
And in his Meditations he thus speaks of Christiani-
ty : " What a soul that is which is ready, if at any
moment it must be separated from the body, and ready
CHAP. IT.] MARCUS AURELIUS AND FRONTO. 285*
either to be extinguished or dispersed or continue to
exist; but so that this readiness comes from a man's
own judgment, not from mere obstinacy, as with the
Christians, but considerately and with dignity and in a
way to persuade another, without tragic show." ^^ How
far above the Christian martyrs, the Emperor evidently
thought himself ! Of what led them to death, he had
no conception. He can hardly have known more of
Christianity than what was conveyed to him by hearsay,
and what Fronto, his teacher and friend, may have told
him of it.
It is significant for the position of Marcus Aurelius,
that Fronto, the first literary antagonist of Christianity,
was so intimate with him. Fronto was a learned man,
an advocate of the then fashionable Renaissance. The
revival of the antique was the fashion. Ennius was
rated above Virgil, Cato's style preferred to that of
Cicero. Fronto was a rhetorician. He was better sup-
plied with words than with ideas. The form of what
he had to say was finished to the last degree ; the less
there was to be said, the more energy was spent in
declamation. Yet Fronto was a thoroughly honorable
man, humane, a willing servant, faithful to his friends
even in misfortune, not lacking in feeling, so far as his
rhetoric left room for it. He was no zealot ; he held
tenaciously but with a certain coldness and tranquillity
to a belief in the gods, in providence, and in a joyful
life after death. Predominant in his character is the
proud self-consciousness of the Stoic. When aged and
sickly, deeply sorrowing over the death of his wife, and
afflicted by the loss of five children, he yet could write
these words : ^^ " That which consoles me is that my
life is near its end and goal. When death comes I will
286 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
freely display my conscience, and give to myself the
testimony that in all my life I have done nothing for
which I needed to blush, or reproach myself, as being
a blemish or a cause of shame. No trace of avarice or
unfaithfulness has been discoverable in me, but on the
contrary numerous acts of liberality, of affection, of
fidelity, and of courage often with peril of my life. I
have lived in the most intimate union with the best
of my brethren. The honors which I have attained
have not been sought by evil ways. I have put care
for my soul before carefulness for the body, and the
pursuit of knowledge before that of my own interests.
I have been poor rather than ask the help of others, I
have suffered want rather than beg. I have not spent
my superfluous possessions with prodigality, but at
times I have freely bestowed that which was necessary
to me. I have sought truth conscientiously, and have
heard it gladly. I have preferred to be forgotten
rather than to flatter, to be silent rather than to dis-
semble, to be a slack friend rather than a zealous cour-
tier. I have put forward few claims, but not few nor
small have been my merits. I have been zealous to
help those who deserved help, and not slow to help
those who did not deserve it, and the scant gratitude
which I have received has not made me unwilling to do
others as much good as I could." A man who at the
end of his life made such a confession as this, must
naturally find the gospel of the Saviour of sinners
incomprehensible. He felt no need of a Saviour, and
when he came in contact with Him, it could be only to
oppose Him. But Fronto is only a type of the age.
Many more held the same views, especially among those
who stood nearest to the Emperor. Philosophy, long
CHAP, n.] POLICY OF THE EMPEROR. 287
looked upon with suspicion and often persecuted by-
earlier Emperors, had now come into power. A phi-
losopher sat upon the imperial throne, philosophers
filled the highest offices of the State and governed the
provinces. For the Church such a condition of affairs
could only mean not peace but war.
But entirely aside from his personal sympathies or l
antipathies, the political views and aims of the Emperor 1
must have made him the enemy of Christianity. For
him the State was supreme. " The end of rational ani-
mals," he asserts, " is to follow the reason and the law
of the most ancient city and polity." " That which is
not good for the swarm, neither is it good for the bee."
It is a law of the universe to sacrifice the part to
the whole, so too in the State. Those who disturbed the
union of the citizens were rebels, in the eyes of the'
Emperor. He had no conception of an individual con-
science, nor of what it demands. He was a Roman ;
the restoration of Roman virtue and thus of the Roman
State, this was his chief ambition. "Every moment
think steadily as a Roman and a man to do what thou
hast in hand . . . ," ^^ he exhorts himself. Thus Chris-
tianity presented itself to him as nothing but an anti-
Roman superstition, which must be done away with, in
order to make room for the true Roman spirit.
During the first years of the reign of Marcus Aurelius \
the Christians' position remained the same as before. ?
Trajan's regulations were still the standard for all pro-
ceedings against them, except that the many calami-
ties which had come upon the Empire had excited the
fanaticism of the heathen to greater fierceness, and the
authorities opposed less resistance to the demands of
the people. A persecution flamed up with peculiar fury
288 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
in Asia Minor, and in it Polycarp, the last of those who
had been taught by the apostles, suffered martyrdom.
The Proconsul had already yielded to the popular clamor
so far as to execute a number of Christians by torture,
or by exposure to the wild beasts, or by burning at the
stake, when the multitude assembled in the amphi-
theatre demanded in addition the death of Polycarp.
" Awa}^ with the Atheists ! Search for Polycarp ! " with
shouts like these they besieged the Proconsul. Poly-
carp had withdrawn to an estate near the city, and,
when he was sought there, escaped to another ; yet two
slaves were captured, one of whom under torture be-
trayed the retreat of the bishop. When the soldiers
sent to take him prisoner approached the villa, Polycarp
was in the upper story, and might easily have fled from
there to the roof of the next house. But when urged
to do this, he refused, and quietly went down to deliver
himself up to the soldiers. He asked only a single
hour for prayer. But he remained two hours in rapt
devotion, so that even the heathen were moved by it.
Then the aged bishop was conveyed to the city on an
ass. On the way he was met by the chief of the police,
who took him up into his carriage, and said in a friendly
manner : " What harm can there be in saying : ' The
Emperor, our Lord! ' and in sacrificing?" Polycarp at
first was silent ; but when they urged him, he quietly
answered: "I shall not do as you advise." Then with
abuse they thrust him so violently out of the carriage,
as to injure one of his legs. But he went onward cheer-
fully as if nothing had happened. In the circus the
Proconsul was awaiting him, surrounded by an immense
multitude of people who had flocked thither at the news
that Polycarp was captured. The Proconsul at first re-
CHAP, n.] MARTYRDOM OF POLYCARP. 2?i9
minded him of his great age, and urged him to regard
it, and show his penitence by swearing by the Genius of
the Emperor, and joining in the cry : " Away with the
Atheists f" The bishop looked with a steadfast coun-
tenance on the tumultuous crowd, and pointing to
them with his finger, raised his eyes to heaven, and
said : " Away with the Atheists ! " Then the Procon-
sul urged him further : " Swear, and I release thee, re-
vile Christ ! " Then Polycarp answered : " Eighty and
six years have I served him, and he has never done me
a wrong ; how can I blaspheme him, my King, who has
saved me?" When the Proconsul yet again pressed
him : " Swear by the Genius of the Emperor ! " Polycarp
replied : " If thou cherishest the vain thought that I
will swear by the Genius of the Emperor, as thou sayest,
and pretendest not to know who I am, hear it plainly :
I am a Christian ! " This was the decisive word, and
the trial Avas properly at an end. Nevertheless the Pro-
consul still sought to save him, if he would only per-
suade the people to desist from their demands. But
Polycarp refused : " To thee I owed an answer, for we
are taught to pay due honor to the powers ordained of
God, but those men I do not think the proper persons
to hear my defence." In vain the Proconsul now
threatened him with the wild beasts and the stake.
Polycarp remained true to his confession, and so the
Proconsul caused it to be proclaimed: "Polycarp has
confessed himself to be a Christian." Hardly had the
herald made the proclamation, when the whole multi-
tude cried out : " This is the teacher of impiety ,^^ the
father of the Christians, the enemy of our gods, who
teaches so many not to sacrifice, nor to worship the
gods." They rushed in a body to Philip, the Asiarcb,
290 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
"who had charge of the public games, and demanded
that he should let loose a lion cipGn Polycarp. When
he refused, because the games were already finished,
they clamored for him to be burned. With all speed
they collected wood from the workshops and baths near
by, and made a pile. Polycarp was unwilling to be
fastened to the stake. " Leave me thus," he said : " He
who strengthens me to endure the fire will also enable
me to stand firm at the stake without being fastened
with nails." Then after he had prayed with a loud
voice : " Lord God Almighty, Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ, I praise Thee that Thou hast judged me worthy
of this day and of this hour, to participate in the num-
ber of Thy witnesses and in the cup of Thy Christ,"
he was consumed by the flames. This took place on
the 6th of April, A. D. 166.5i
About the same time Justin sealed the testimony
given in his Apology by his martyrdom. ^^ When he
wrote the second Apology, he was already aware of what
awaited him. He narrates the executions of several
Christians, which had given the occasion for the Apology,
and then adds : " I too expect to be taken in their snares,
and impaled." ^^ He knew that the philosopher Cres-
cens longed to be revenged upon him and had daily
before his eyes proofs of how easy it was to procure
the dearth of a Christian. Crescens denounced him, and
with several other Christians he was brought before
Junius Rusticus, the Prefect of the city. Justin qui-
etly explained who he was, and what was his occupa-
tion, that he had himself sought and found the truth,
and that now when any one came to him he communi-
cated to him the teachings of the truth. "Art thou
not then a Christian ? " asked the Prefect, and Justin
CHAP, n.] MARTYEDOM OF JUSTIN. 291
replied : " Yes ; I am a Christian." After the rest had
made the same confession, the Prefect turned again to
Justin, and asked mockingly : '^ Listen, thou who art
called learned, and belie vest that thou knowest the true
doctrines, art thou persuaded that when thou shalt have
been scourged and beheaded, thou wilt then ascend
into heaven?" — "I hope," replied Justin, "to receive
Christ's gracious gift, when I shall have endured all
those things." — " Thou really thinkest, then, that thou
wilt ascend into heaven, and there receive a recom-
pense ? " asked the Prefect yet more scornfully. " I not
merely think so, but I know and am thoroughly con-
vinced of it," answered Justin. This must have seemed
perfect madness to the Prefect. He did not think it
worth while to parley with such people. " To come to
the point, advance together, and unite in sacrificing to
the gods ! " — " No right-minded man will leave the wor-
ship of God for its opposite," was the answer. " If ye
do not obey, ye must suffer punishment without mercy,"
threatened the Prefect, but the Christians responded
with cheerful courage : " Do what you will, we are
Christians, and do not sacrifice to idols." Then the
Prefect pronounced the sentence : " Since they are such
as do not sacrifice to the gods, nor obey the command
of the Emperor, let them be scourged and executed
according to the laws." Giving praise to God, the
martyrs went to the place of execution, where, after
being scourged, they were beheaded with the axe.
When we bear in mind that we have detailed ac-
counts of the persecution only so far as it dealt with
prominent men like Polycarp and Justin, but that
besides these, as may be inferred from many scattered
indications, a large number of nameless victims suffered
292 PERSECUTION TINDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
for their Lord, the position of the Christians will ap-
pear to have been distressing enough, even in the first
years of the reign of Marcus Aurelius. But it was
destined to become much worse. We can easily guess
what induced the Emperor, for the first time, to go
beyond the regulations of Trajan! The situation of
the Empire grew more and more gloomy. True, the
Parthians were subdued, but pestilence and famine dev-
astated the Empire, while the war along the Danube
was carried on with varying success, and demanded the
greatest exertions. That the Romans suffered severe
defeats may be gathered from the fact that later, when
the war was ended, the lazyges restored one hundred
thousand Roman prisoners. Once the Emperor and his
whole army came near being taken prisoners by the
Quadi. The rescue is said to have come in answer to
the prayer of the Xllth. Legion, which was almost en-
tirely composed of Christians. When all seemed lost,
the Christians prayed to their God. Then came a
terrible storm, the rain refreshed the legions, which
were perishing with thirst, and, amid thunder, light-
ning, and hail, which fell upon the enemy, the Quadi
were routed. The story, in this form, is only a legend ;
for it can be proved that the Xllth. Legion bore the
name Fulminata (which was said to have come from this
event) as far back as the times of Nerva and Trajan.
The historical part of it is only that the army of the
Emperor, in great straits, in danger of perishing from
thirst, was saved by a sudden and heavy rain-storm.
Heathen accounts and contemporaneous monuments
ascribe the rescue to heathen gods, specially to Jupiter
Pluvius. On the part of the Christians, no doubt the
above legend sprang up at the same time, since it is
mentioned even by Tertullian.^*
CHAP, n.] CAUSES OF PERSECUTION. 293
While this war was still undecided, a new danger
threatened the Emperor, from the East. Avidius Cas-
sius, the conqueror of the Parthians, rebelled, and was
proclaimed Emperor. As he was unquestionably supe-
rior to the Emperor as a general, and possessed an
energetic character, he might, at the head of the Ori-
ental army, have proved a dangerous rival. Marcus
Aurelius accordingly concluded a rather unfavorable
peace with the Danubian tribes as speedily as possible,
and hastened eastward. Avidius Cassius was assassi-
nated when the Emperor was still a long way off, and
thus that danger was removed ; but the Emperor
nevertheless considered it necessary to pursue his
march, in order to re-establish his authority in the
East. The impressions there received do not seem
to have been cheering; at all events, the Emperor's
melancholy disposition grew upon him from this time,
and, in particular, he became peculiarly zealous in
heathen rites, a trait which had not previously char-
acterized him to such a degree. He instituted great
lustrations and sacrifices everywhere, and, in Greece,
was initiated into the mysteries. But in Greece the
hunt after Christians was just then most vigorously
prosecuted. " For what reason, men of Greece," Tatian
complains, " do jou wish to bring the civil powers, as
in a pugilistic encounter, into collision with us ? And
why . . . am I to be abhorred as a vile miscreant ?" ^^
From the writings of Celsus, we can see what aspect
of the case was probably laid before the Emperor.
The Christians were responsible for the distress of the
Empire ; they alone refused the State their assistance
at a time when all sources of strength must be drawn
upon, in order to resist the foe. The rapid growth of
294 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
the Church was pointed out, and the large numbers
who already were Christians. If this were to proceed
at the same rate (it was stated), the Emperor would
soon stand alone, and the Empire become the prey of
the barbarians. Such words would find a ready ac-
ceptance with the Emperor, whose antipathy to the
Christians would not fail to be fostered by his teachers
and friends, Fronto and the city prefect Junius Rusti-
cus who is so often named in connection with the perse-
cution of the Christians. The restoration of Roman
virtue, and of the Roman Empire, still floated before
him as the supreme object of his life ; but, if that goal
was to be reached, these false Romans must be extir-
pated.
Therefore Marcus Aurelius issued a rescript ^^ which
went far beyond the regulations of Trajan. We do
not know its exact tenor, but Melito calls it barbar-
ously cruel. Though a general persecution was not
directly ordered, yet the decree that the accusers of
the Christians should come into possession of their
property practically instigated an almost universal per-
secution. For not only were accusations multiplied by
persons in private life who coveted the property of the
Christians, but the officials themselves made haste to
earn the reward of Judas. Now, as never before, the
Christians were sought out everywhere, brought to
trial, often executed with the greatest cruelty, and
their property confiscated.
We gain an idea of how much more severe this was
than all previous persecutions, when we read the letter
in which the churches of Lugdunum (Lyons) and Vienne
narrate the story of their sufferings.^^ The people be-
gan by insulting the Christians, throwing stones at
CHAP. II.] MARTYRS OF LYONS AND VIENNE. 295
tliem, and plundering their houses. Next a number
were imprisoned, and the attempt was made to extort
confessions from them by means of various tortures and
torments. Most of them held out ; but a few aposta-
tized, to the great sorrow of the Church. Worse than
this, slaves of Christian masters stated on the rack
that the stories of atrocities practised by the Christians
in secret were true. Thus the proofs of impiety were
secured, and the rage of the heathen rose to the high-
est pitch. They sought by the most horrible tortures
to extract the same disclosures from the Christians.
They were tormented the whole day long, till the exe-
cutioners were weary, but they remained true to their
faith. Blandina, a delicate maiden, to all the questions
answered only : " I am a Christian ! Among us no
wickedness is committed," and still repeated this re-
sponse when every species of torture had been tried on
her, and, bleeding and mangled, she scarcely continued
to breathe. Ponticus, a boy, notwithstanding his youth
(he was but fifteen), bore all the tortures unflinchingly.
His own sister stood by his side, and exhorted him to
steadfastness. Pothinus, the bishop of Lyons, a man
over ninety years old, in reply to the legate's question,
" Who is the God of the Christians ? " hurled back the
bold answer, "If thou art worthy thou shalt know."
He was tortured so severely that he died in prison two
days afterwards. Even those who had at first recanted
were so inspired by these examples, that they sum- »
moned courage to re-af&rm their faith. Since there were
Roman citizens among the accused, the legate sent for
orders from Rome ; and, by command of the Emperor,
the Roman citizens died by the sword, while the rest
were thrown to the wild beasts. From far and near the
296 PERSECUTION UNDER M. AURELIUS. [book n.
heathen flocked together to this spectacle. All the con-
demned met their death with great joy; and the last
to suffer was Blandina, who had been a spectator of the
deaths of all the rest, and had encouraged and exhorted
the brethren. With joy and thanksgiving she entered
the arena as though she were going to her nuptials in-
stead of to be thrown to the wild beasts. Enclosed in
a net she was exposed to the fury of a wild bull, and,
after being several times tossed into the air from its
horns, was put to death. Even the heathen conceded
that never woman among them had shown such endur-
ance, and the Church added, " Thus the Lord glorified
himself in those who seemed weak and insignificant in
the eyes of the world." The bodies of the martyrs
were burned, and their ashes thrown into the Rhone.
"Now we shall see if they will rise again," said the
heathen mockingly.
The picture here spread before us was only a single
scene of this terrible drama. In vain did the Apolo-
gists, Melito, Miltiades, and Athenagoras lift up their
voices. The persecution extended throughout the en-
tire empire, an early prelude of the subsequent general
persecutions. " The demon " (of the Christians), Cel-
sus exultingly asserts, " is not only reviled, but banished
from every land and sea, and those who like images are
consecrated to him are bound and led to punishment
and impaled (or crucified), whilst the demon — or, as you
call him, the Son of God — takes no vengeance on the
evil doer." Celsus saw in this the fulfilment of the
saying of Apollo's priest : " The mills of the gods grind
late," and he scornfully points to the fate of the wor-
shippers of the one God. " They (the Jews), instead
of being masters of the whole world, are left with not
CHAP. II.] CELSUS AND HIS BOOK. 297
SO much as a patcli of ground or a hearth ; and of you
(the Christians) one or two may be wandering in secret,
but they are being sought out to be punished with
death." ''
IV. THE FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORT.
In all his exultation over the destruction of the
Christians, Celsus must still have felt that this persecu-
tion had not exterminated them, and would not do so.
Otherwise why did he choose just this time to make a
literary attack on them ? For, in all probability, the
famous, or rather infamous, treatise which he published
under the title, " A True Discourse," belongs to this
very time. It is no longer extant in a perfect form (in
later times Christian zeal considered its destruction a
duty), but yet we can reconstruct it with tolerable
completeness from the reply of Origen. In reading it
we are filled with astonishment; not simply because
Celsus evidently has so accurate a knowledge of Chris-
tianity, and is well read in both the Old and New
Testaments ; nor yet because of the almost unequalled
measure of venomous hatred which he displays, chiefly
against Christ himself: but principally because of the
acuteness with which this heathen philosopher hit upon
the really decisive issue ; and yet more, because in this,
the oldest polemical writing against the Christian faith
whose contents we know, every argument is to be found
which has been brought against it up to the present
time.
According to a carefully laid plan, Celsus begins by
representing Christianity as combated by a Jew, and
then afterwards himself comes forward to attack both
Judaism and Christianity. In this way he is enabled
298 FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORY. [book n.
not only to make capital out of the Jewish hatred of
Christ, and all the lies concerning him promulgated by
it, but also to use Judaism as a foil to Christianity, in
order to make the latter appear still worse and more
worthless. Judaism indeed was an apostasy from the
religion of the fathers, but it was at least a national
faith, it contained an element of patriotism ; but Chris-
tianity, on the contrary, which arose out of another
apostasy, from Judaism, and thus capped the climax of
folly, was sheer sedition, open rebellion.
As we have already indicated, the hatred of Celsus
was chiefly displayed against our Lord Himself. He
found in Him nothing that is good. He regarded Him
as merely a common swindler and charlatan. Born of
a poor peasant-woman, who had to spin for her living,
and who lived in adultery with a soldier, Panthera by
name. He learnt the magic art in Egypt, and by means
of it gained some adherents from the lowest classes,
publicans and fishermen. He deceived them into the
belief that He was the Son of God and born of a
virgin, led with them the life of a wretched outcast;
finally (so small was His power even over His own
adherents) He was betrayed by one of His disciples,
denied by another, and came to a cowardly and shame-
ful end. This "pestilent fellow," "boaster," "magi-
cian," never did any thing great, but only practised
a few magic arts, and even in these was inferior to
others. He did many evil and wicked actions, only
Celsus is unable to say just what they were. The
stories told of Him in the Gospels are founded partly on
His own lies, partly on those of His disciples. It is true
He is said to have predicted His suffering, and also the
betrayal and the denial, but (Celsus explains) the very
CHAP, n.] CELSUS ON THE RESURRECTION. 299
fact that it so came to pass is itself a proof that it
could not have been predicted. For, how could those
to whom it had been predicted out of His own mouth,
yet betray and deny Him ? If He as God predicted it,
then it must so happen, and those who did it were led
into this impiety by Himself, the God. And if it was
necessary that it should so happen, and He obediently
submitted Himself to the will of His Father, why then
did He so lament and ask for help in Gethsemane ? It
may be true that He told His disciples He would rise
again, but others have made similar vain boasts. Be-
sides we learn, from the myths, of men who have risen
again. All such stories are pure myths. " Or do you
suppose the statements of others both are myths and
are so regarded, while you have invented a becoming
and credible catastrophe to your drama in the voice
from the cross when He expired and in the earthquake
and the darkness? That while alive He was of no
assistance to Himself, but that when dead He rose again
and showed the marks of His punishment, and how His
hands were pierced with nails: who beheld this? A
half-crazy woman, as you state, and some other one
perhaps of those who were engaged in the system of
delusion, who had either dreamed so, owing to a pecul-
iar state of mind, or under the influence of a wander-
•ing imagination had formed to himself an appearance
according to his own wishes, which has been the case
with numberless individuals ; or, which is most proba-
ble, one who desired to impress others with this portent
and by such a falsehood to furnish an occasion to im-
postors like himself." ^^ If He had really risen, Celsus
asserts. He would certainly have appeared before His
judges and the public in general ; and he finds it very
300 FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORY. [book ii.
strange that Jesus during His life preached to all, and
found no acceptance, but that when He had risen, and
could so easily have induced all to believe on Him, He
appeared only to one insignificant woman and to His
associates, and that secretly and timidly .^^ We hardly
need to point out that here we have the very same
things which are promulgated at the present day as
the surest results of the most recent science. Here we
have Eenan's "/ewme ludlueinee^^ the hypothesis of
visions most completely developed; and besides, in
order that the other theory, which boasts that it is the
properly spiritual conception, may not be omitted, Cel-
sus in other places concedes that the dead Christ may
have truly appeared, not as one risen in bodily form,
but as a ghost.
We have seen that the hatred which Celsus cher-
ished against Christianity had its root in the fact that
the God of the Christians is a sinners' God, and that
Christianity was a religion of the poor, the slaves, the
miserable f A God who takes jDity upon sinners, and
on the other hand turns away from proud and self-
reliant souls, seemed to the heathen to reverse all con-
ceptions of God. The gods of the heathen neither give
nor receive love, and the strict justice attributed to
them makes forgiveness impossible. Therefore Celsus
directs his polemic principally against this God, who*
takes the part of the wretched, who stretches out His
arms towards those who suffer and weep, and who does
not repulse even the guilty.
He regards as the central point of all Christianity
(and rightly) the belief that God has really come down
from heaven to redeem men. In the eyes of the phi-
losopher this belief is the most absurd thing conceivable.
CHAP. 11.] TELEOLOGY OF CELSUS. 301
" ' What is the meaning of such a descent on the part
of God unless in order to learn what goes on among
men ? Does He then not know all ? ' Then as if we
(the Christians) answered, ' He does know all,' he raises
a new question, saying, ' Then He does know all things,
but does not improve their condition, nor is it possible
for Him by divine power to do so . . . without sending
some one in bodily form for that purpose.' " ^^ If He
descended then He must have left His place in heaven
empty, and His coming into the world would bring a
revolution, " for if thou shouldest change a single thing,
even the smallest on earth, all would be overturned
and go to ruin."
But Celsus attempts a yet more serious attack on
this principal article of the Christian faith. It is
founded on the belief of the Christians that the world
was made for the sake of men, and they are special
objects of God's care. This seems to him so ridicu-
lous that he compares the whole tribe of Jews and
Christians to frogs and worms who hold an assembly
by a puddle, and quarrel. The frogs say, " God first
reveals every thing to us, and tells it beforehand, and
He forsakes the whole earth and the celestial sphere,
and dwells only in our midst." Then the worms re-
join ; " There is one God, and next to Him we come,
who have derived our being from Him, and are in all
respects like Him, and every thing is subject to us,
earth, water, air, and stars; all things exist for our
sake, and were arranged to accommodate us! And
now, since some of us transgress, God will come or
send His Son to burn the unjust and to give the rest
of us eternal life with Him."*^^ Celsus declares that
it is pride to suppose that God made all things for
302 FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORY. [book n.
man's sake. From natural history, from the acute fac-
ulties of many animals, it may be shown that all things
were created as much for them as for man. Celsus
even labors to show that animals in many respects
stand higher than men, and that men are in subjection
to animals. The bees have a ruler and build towns,
the ants lay up for the winter and bury their dead,
the snakes and the eagles understand magic arts. The
birds foresee the future and give signs of it in their
flight. Not even is piety a prerogative of man. No
beings are more faithful to an oath than the elephants,
and the storks surpass men in piety.
In fine — and this is the culmination of his argument
— Celsus denies that the world has any purpose at all.
"Therefore all things accordingly were not made for
man any more than they were made for lions or eagles
or dolphins, but that this world, as being God's work,
might be perfect and entire in all respects. For this
reason all things have been adjusted not with reference
to each other, but with regard to their bearing upon the
whole. And God takes care of the whole, and his
providence will never forsake it; and it does not
become worse ; nor does God after a time bring it back
to himself; nor is he angry on account of men any
more than on account of apes and flies. Nor does he
threaten these beings, each one of whom has received
its appointed lot in its proper place." The world, he
explains in another place, remains ever the same.
" There neither were formerly, nor are there now, nor
will there be again, more or fewer evils in the world.
For the nature of all things is one and the same, and
the generation of evils is always the same." ^^ Indeed,
if Celsus had been right Christianity would have been
CHAP, n.] CELSUS AND STRAUSS. 303
refuted in its very foundation, for that is nothing other
than the belief in this divine deed, that God has taken
the part of the human race, and has redeemed and re-
stored a sinful world by the sending of his Son.
There is a very striking coincidence here between the
most ancient antagonist of Christianity and Strauss,
its most modern foe. Just as with Celsus, so with
Strauss, the principal argument against Christianity is
the impenetrable connection of the order of nature ;
and like the former, so the latter finally arrives at deny-
ing any design in the world. Its purpose is that it is.
There will come, he explains, a time when the earth
will no longer be inhabited, yea, when the very planet
will no longer exist, and when not only all earthly
things, all human occupations and achievements, all
nationalities, works of art and science, shall have van-
ished, but not even a recollection of it all shall endure
in any spirit, since with this earth, its history must
naturally perish. Then either the earth has failed to
accomplish its purpose, since nothing has been evolved
in its existence, or that purpose did not consist in any
thing which should endure, but was accomplished at
every moment of the world's development. Like Cel-
sus, Strauss denies any improvement or deterioration
in the world. The same statement which we have just
read in Celsus, we read again in " The Old Faith and
the New " by Strauss.^^ " The universe is in no suc-
ceeding moment more perfect than in the preceding,
nor vice versa^ So exactly indeed do these two antag-
onists of Christianity agree, that, like Celsus, Strauss
endeavors to obliterate the distinction between man
and animal. " The chasm between man and animal,"
he says, " was first opened by Judaism which is hostile
304 FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORY. [book n.
to the gods of nature, and by Christianity which is
dualistic ; " and it sounds like the voice of Celsus when
we read : " the more carefully the life and habits of any
species of animals are observed, the more does the ob-
server find reason to speak of their understanding. . . .
A kind of sense of honor, a sort of conscience, is hardly
to be ignored in the better bred and cared-for horses
and dogs." Strauss discovers even "the rudiments of
the higher moral faculties " in animals, and bees, ants,
and elephants play the same parts in his argument, as
with Celsus.^^
It has seemed of interest for once to bring out the
parallel between this time of the Church's conflict and
the present day, which I have elsewhere purposely
refrained from doing. Do the modern enemies of our
faith know of no objections to bring forward, except
those which were advanced by our first antagonist
seventeen hundred years ago? If so, then they are
refuted before they write. For Celsus is refuted, I do
not mean by Origen's answer, though this presses him
very hard, but by the fact that the faith he scorned has
triumphed.
Even Celsus seems to have trembled with a forebod-
ing of this coming triumph. He was unable to deny
that among the Christians "there are some men, sen-
sible, well-disposed, intelligent, and skilled in allegorical
interpretation." ^^ And while on the one hand he pro-
claimed that the Founder of Christianity was only a
swindler, yet on the other hand he considered the
religion as a kind of philosophy, and thus at least
compared it to the grandest thing known to the ancient
world. Also his oft-expressed fear of the magic arts
of the Christians shows that he could not deny the
CHAP. II.] CELSUS COMPROMISES. 305
existence of a power in Christianity, though, in con-
sistency with his other views, he regarded it as only
magical. The most important fact is that Celsus shows
he is not quite secure in his own belief. He defends
Polytheism with the air of being ashamed of it, and
introduces considerable modifications into it. He ex-
pressly warns men against excessive zeal in serving the
gods. "The more correct view is that the demons
(subordinate deities) desire nothing and have need of
nothing, but that they take pleasure in those who dis-
charge towards them offices of piety." The principal
thing is "never in any way to lose our hold upon God
whether by day or by night, whether in public or in
secret, whether in word or in deed, but in whatever we
do or abstain from doing ... to let the soul be con-
stantly fixed upon God."^^ Here Polytheism is com-
pletely abandoned. Celsus himself has already lost
faith in it, and has evidently a suspicion that he is the
champion of a lost cause. His whole book is indeed a
prediction of victory for Christianity.
Thus we can understand how Celsus, with all his
bitter hatred of Christianity, yet finally proposed a
kind of compromise to the Christians. They were to
have toleration, even freedom to serve the one supreme
God, if they would also worship the demons, the sub-
ordinate gods which are set over particular departments
in this world, and if they would make up their minds
to honor the Emperor and to help him in this time of
difficulty by participating in the efforts and burdens of
the Roman Empire. Celsus took great pains to render
this compromise acceptable to the Christians. He set
himself to work to bring philosophy and the Christian
faith nearer together. It was not much that he asked.
306 FIRST SIGNS OF VICTORY. [book n.
They might remain Christians in all else, worship the
supreme God as before, if they would only also pay to
the demons the honors which were their due. It was
not as if they were required to do any thing disgrace-
ful. What impiety could there be in singing a beauti-
ful hymn to Athene? In her the supreme God was
really worshipped. Or, what impiety was there in
swearing by the Genius of the Emperor? Had not
God given liim his power ? Did he not issue his com-
mands by God's permission, and under His authority?
But in case the Christians should resist these advances,
Celsus threatened them with force — they were to be
utterly exterminated. The Christians might take their
choice : Peace or war?^^
To the Christians there was of course no choice.
They could not accept the compromise. The worship
of the supreme God excluded the worship of the
demons, and Christianity must be more than a religion
tolerated side by side with others. The deification of
the powers of nature and of the Emperor would have
made Christianity into a new Heathenism. Yet the
Christians would one day share the efforts and burdens
of the Empire ; yea, they were one day to become its
strongest support. A time was to come, when the old
and tottering Empire would seek and find in the youth-
ful strength of Christianity the basis of a new life. But
that time was yet distant. For the present the Chris-
tians could do nothing but suffer. The persecution
under Marcus Aurelius was, it is true, as brief as it
was severe. The terrible war on the Danube began
again. The Emperor marched thither never to return,
and his successor Commodus was entirely different from
him. The persecution ceased again. But it had be-
CHAP. II.] THE CHURCH'S FUTURE. 307
come clear that the Christians had been mistaken in
basing their hopes of tranquillity on the gentleness and
justice of the Emperor's personal character. Even if
the Emperor of himself were favorably disposed, the
time was not yet come. Heathenism must yet pass
through further developments before it would bow be-
fore the Cross. Christianity must pass through other
conflicts before the victory could be won. All the con-
flicts of the past had been only isolated skirmishes.
They were not enough. The great battle was still to
be fought. The Church must enter upon the terrors
and distresses of a general persecution.
We are filled with sorrow when we tliink of. the rivers
of blood which were still to flow. But this was God's
plan, and it was good. Christianity must go through
the whole conflict, and owe its victory not to any for-
tunate circumstance nor to the personal favor of any
Emperor, but solely and wholly to its own indwelling
powers. Thus only could the victory be a real victory ;
thus only could the Church reap for all time the full
benefit of this conflict and of this victory.
But the great battle, as I called it, came not yet.
Next after the stormy reign of Marcus Aurelius came a
period of comparative quiet. In this period the internal
development of Heathenism and of Christianity was
accomplished, and not until then Avere the antagonists
in a position to summon all their powers, and measure
their strength against each other.
CHAPTER III.
THE EE-ACTION.
" Professing themselves to he wise, they became fools." — Uom. i. 22.
'* The Spirit of truth . . . loill guide ijou into all ti^uth." — Joh2^ xyi. 3.
I. THE INTERNAL RE- ACTION IN HEATHENISM.
We should have an entirely false idea of the Titanic
struggle between Christianity and Heathenism if we
were to imagine the two antagonists as remaining in
the same positions throughout. The conflict endured
too long for that, for it lasted three centuries. In this
time both Christianity and Heathenism underwent a
great development, and when the last decisive battle
was fought they had both become entirely different
from w^hat they were when the struggle began. Only
when this is taken into account, is it possible to under-
stand and to appreciate the victory of Christianity.
For this victory was by no means a mere outward
displacement of Heathenism, but an inward conquest.
Hence before we go further we must try to gain a view
of the great re-action which, in both Heathenism and
Christianity, was prepared in the second century and
showed itself in the third; and which first puts the
CHAP, ra.] INCREASED SUPERSTITION. 809
antagonists into such a position as to bring the crisis of
the conflict. On the part of Heathenism the re-action
may be briefly designated as a restoration ; or, to indi-
cate in general the real nature of this restoration, the
change that now took place consisted in the substitu-
tion of superstition for scepticism. This was a per-
fectly natural development. The restoration was only
a necessary stage in the fall of Heathenism, a symptom
of its waning power. Once more the heathen State
summoned all its forces in order to withstand the
antagonist who was growing stronger and stronger.
Scepticism necessarily brings forth superstition as its
complement. Neither an individual nor a people can
long endure the emptiness of unbelief. It is impossible
to live in a vacuum. And so the space emptied by
scepticism fills up with superstition. The denial of the
true leads by an internal necessity to the affirmation of
the false. This change, which must come in the course
of development, was greatly hastened by the position
of affairs. When Marcus Aurelius, attacked by the
plague, lay upon his death-bed, and his friends stood
round him weeping : " Weep not for me," said the
Emperor, " weep over the plague and the general mis-
ery." ^ In the time of Commodus the rottenness of
the Empire, hitherto hardly concealed, and unremedied
even by the best of the Emperors, came to light with
an awful suddenness. A reign of terror set in, from
the time when the son of Marcus Aurelius was seized
with the frenzy of despotism. This imperial madness
attacked almost all whom chance or fortune placed on
the dizzy height of the imperial throne, and endowed
with such an unlimited range of power as only the.
strongest souls could possess without inward ruin —
310 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ii.
until it finally culminated in the production of monsters
like Elagabalus and Caracalla. In bloodthirsty cruelty
and unlimited debauchery the Emperors endeavored to
exhaust the joy- sof that uncertain possession, the
throne. The last vestiges which seemed to perpetuate
the Republic were obliterated, while no real monarchy
took its place, but a Csesarism of the worst description.
Not only was there no dynasty in which the throne was
hereditary, but worse still, there was not even any set-
tled rule as to who should have the right to nominate
the Emperor. The Senate had in a certain sense the
historical right on its side, but the Prsetorian guard
usurped the position, and its power increased with the
wickedness of the Emperors. For, the worse the Em-
peror's character, the more he needed the protection of
the Praetorian body-guard, and hence the greater the
favors shown to it. Then the legions in the provinces
also took their turn at electing Emperors; and, since
each new usurper tried to keep the soldiers on his side
by bribes greater than those of his rival, they soon
found that their best advantage lay in having the reigns
as brief as possible, till finally the position of Emperor
was sold at public auction to the highest bidder.
The last words of Septimius Severus were : " Enrich
the soldiers, and ignore the rest." ^ With him began the
military monarchy, which, with a few intervals when
the old imperial madness re-appeared, produced a suc-
cession of great soldiers under whose rule the State was
saved from ruin. But it was an age of iron, the whole
Empire stood to its arms, everywhere there was war.
Sometimes it seemed as if all order was about to give
. place to chaos. Whole provinces detached themselves
from the Empire, and chose Emperors of their own.
CHAP, m.l DEGENERACY OF THE AGE. 311
Often there were so many usurpers that we do not even
know all their names. The barbarians were beating
against the frontier like a storm, the Goths had already
reached Northern Italy, Gaul remained for some time
in the possession of Teutonic tribes, till the great gen-
erals by continuous campaigns brought the Roman
world back to order. Times such as these, in which
all is wavering and uncertain, in which the highest to-
day are to-morrow the lowest, in which the whole world
becomes a camp, and mighty men raise themselves from
the ranks to the throne, only ere long to yield to more
fortunate usurpers, — such times are exactly adapted
for the growth and maturity of superstition. It is a
general rule, that times of success chiefly bring forth
doubt and scepticism from their luxury and license.
Not less, on the other hand, do times of distress stimu-
late superstition as well as faith, for, the more uncertain
the things of earth become, the more earnestly does
man seek that which is supernatural and miraculous.
Besides superstition, corruption spread below the sur-
face. That the world was growing old, was an ever-
deepening conviction after the time of Marcus Aure-
lius. The heathen themselves were conscious of it.
They often complained that the course of things tended
downwards. Since the advent of Christianity, they
said, all blessings had taken flight. War, pestilence,
drought, locusts, famine, everywhere prevailed. The
Roman Empire grew poorer and poorer. Even in its
best days the financial situation of the Empire had been
bad, as is evident from the two facts that the rate of
interest did not decrease, nor did the population in-
crease. But now the State was hurrying onward to
tlie precipice of financial ruin. The cause of its bank-
312 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book n.
ruptcy is easily comprehended. It lay in the ancient
contempt for labor, in the practice of slaveholding, and
worse than all in the fact that idleness and indolence
were privileged. The cities where no work was done
had little or nothing required of them, the Roman
idlers were fed by the State. All things, " bread and
games," came from the State and were expected from
it. Great cities in our day consume the produce of the
country, but they pay it back in the products of manu-
facturing industry. But the commerce and industry of
the ancient cities were essentially unproductive. Rome
paid its debts with the taxes collected from the prov-
inces, that is, it did not really pay them at all. It lived
on the resources of the provinces, but these were not
inexhaustible. In the peaceful reigns of the great
Emperors in the second century, this waste was not
noticed, but now when troublous times had come, when
one civil war succeeded another, when Emperor fought
with Emperor, and the provinces were devastated again
and again — then the financial ruin declared itself.
The world was poverty-stricken, because free labor, the
one thing which creates and preserves true prosperity,
was unknown.
But the degeneracy of the time was not merely
material, it had also a spiritual side. Freedom and
beauty, the two foci of the ancient world's life, had
vanished. The Emperors of the second century had
permitted at least a shadow and semblance of freedom,
so that men still might dream that it existed, but now
even that disappeared. The wretches Avho now occu-
pied the throne, or the subsequent Soldier-Emperors,
who had reached greatness in the camp and put their
whole trust in their swords — what did they care about
CHAP, m.] DECAY OF ART AND POETRY. 313
the freedom of the Roman people ? Beauty also faded
away ; art rapidly degenerated. Art no longer created,
it did not even reproduce, at its best it only multi23lied
repetitions. Size took the place of beauty. Alexander
Severus set up a number of gigantic statues in Rome,
and Gallienus wished to place on the highest site in
the city a statue two hundred feet high, representing
himself as the god of the sun. The spear in its hand
was to be so massive that a child could go up on a
spiral staircase constructed inside of it. The beautiful
statues of the ancient gods now gave place to horrid
monstrosities. Images of the Ephesian Diana with
innumerable arms, caricatures, representations of the
universal god, called Pantheus, took the place of the
splendid forms which Greek art had created. Poetry
also ceased. The Romance displaced the Epic and the
Drama. Centos from Virgil, that is, poems put together
out of Virgil's verses, poems of various shapes (for
instance, one which when written had the form of a
shepherd's pipe), and similar trifles, now won the popu-
lar favor. Philosophy gave way to rhetoric. With
the reign of Septimius Severus the ancient philosophy
came to an end. Men degenerated even physically ; at
least, one cannoj: help noticing that the portrait busts
and statues of that period still extant display an in-
creasing ugliness. Their forms look unhealthy, either
bloated or shrunken.
In short, the world was grov/ing old, and in old age
became pious. Men began again to speak of the gods
with all seriousness, ^lian in the third century de-
voted a whole book to instances of the dreadful fate
of the gods' enemies, and he narrates with other edify-
ing legends that even the elephants kneel each morning
314 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [boob. n.
and pray. Apuleius, the most popular novelist of the
time, rhapsodizes in the most enthusiastic manner on
things divine, and is full to the brim of superstition ;
but his tales have a sensual tone, while his piety,
and the piety of his time, is rather like that of a
man who, after a youth spent in profligacy, becomes
religious in old age. The temples were again diligently
attended, and it became fashionable to show great zeal
in all that pertained to the service of the numerous
deities.
Of course this zeal was shown more towards foreign
gods than for those of Rome. The religious syncre-
tism, which had already begun, now reached its climax,
and foreign rites almost entirely displaced the native
cultus. Now the festival of the great mother was
celebrated with the greatest splendor in Rome, and her
priests appeared in proud state, who in Juvenal's time
were to be found only in corner taverns among sailors
and runaway slaves. The lamentations for the lost
Attys resounded by the Tiber as loudly as ever for-
merly by the Orontes ; and the day of the Hilaria, the
re-discovery of Attys, was a gala-day for the whole of
Rome. The shrines of the Egyptian gods had formerly
found a place only in a nook outside^ the walls, but
. before this time Domitian had built a splendid temple
to Isis and Serapis, and there were particular stations
(^pausaS) for the processions of these gods in the streets
of Rome. The Emperor Commodus, shorn like a priest
of Isis, himself walked in the procession, and carried
the image of the dog-headed Anubis. Even the Persian
Mithras, the last in the series of the gods who con-
,^stantly migrated to Rome from farther and farther east,
now had numerous worshippers. He was a god of light,
CHAP, in.] CONFUSION OF RELIGIONS. 315
a sun-god ; as god of the setting sun, lie was also god
of tlie nether world; also as the invincible god (the
"invincible companion" as he was often called) he
became the pa^tron of warriors, and as such thoroughly
fitted for those times in which the whole world was
filled with war. His w^orship was always held in a
cave. In Rome the cave penetrated deep into the
Capitoline Hill. Emperors were numbered among his
adorers, and everywhere where Roman armies came
(on the Rhine, for instance) there images and caves
of Mithras have been found. This religious syncre-
tism reached its culmination when Elagabalus, a Syrian
priest of the sun, becoming Emperor, had the sun-god
after whom he was named brought from Emesa to
Rome, in the form of a conical black stone. In Rome
a costly temple was built, and great sacrifices were
offered to him. Then the image and the treasures of
the celestial goddess were brought from Carthage, and
she was solemnly united to the god Elagabalus. Rome
and Italy celebrated in a most splendid festival the
marriage of the gods. The fire of Vesta and the
Palladium, those holy things of ancient Rome, were
placed in the temple of the new god.
The consequences of this confusion of religions in
the select circle of the learned were different from
its effect upon the common people. With the learned
the whole ritual was only a veiled pantheism. Each
god was to them a symbol of the universal deity. The
same is indicated by many inscriptions from this period,
such as " To all the Celestials," or " To all Gods and
Goddesses." All the gods were even compressed into
one; and a figure, in which as many attributes as possi-
ble of the several gods were combined, was called deus
316 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ti.
pantheus, god of the universal deity. For the most
part they believed in one supreme god, who, immutable
and inaccessible himself, governed the world through
an innumerable multitude of subordinate powers, lesser
gods, his intermediaries, his messengers, who brought
to him the thanksgivings and votive offerings of the
faithful. With the multitude, on the other hand, this
worshipping of foreign gods was only a veiled fetichism.
These gods had no connections with the people and the
State ; their worship had no historical roots, and was
pure fetichism. Therefore they were no longer joy-
ously honored as the beneficent gods, but they were
regarded as demons, which men feared, and strove by
every kind of service and gift to render friendly.
Heathenism became demon-worship : the rites acquired
a dark and dread element which was foreign to the
ancient Heathenism. The gods were now only dreaded,
no longer trusted.
In close connection with this change was the great
influence attained by magic. That too was a character-
istic of the demon-worshipping, corrupt Heathenism,
which became more and more prominent. Heathen-
ism and the magic art are inseparably connected.
Heathenism as a whole is permeated with magic.
Everywhere we find a belief in magicians who bring
storms, and bewitch fields, a belief in love-philtres, in
the transformation of men into beasts, in the conjura-
tion of the dead, and the like. The heathen lived in
perpetual dread. They feared all sorts of sounds, omens,
evil eye, charms, and the spectral shapes of the blood-
sucking Lamice and Empusce. But against these there
v/ere all kinds of charms, with which men protected
themselves, a regular system of means of defence.
CHAP, ni.] MAGIC AND AUGURY. 317
Especially were amulets valued, and the heathen cov-
ered themselves with them from head to foot.
All this had long existed. The Emperors in the first
century had often consulted seers, astrologers, and Chal-
deans. Was not the noble Germanicus encircled and
hunted to death with murderous magic ; his enemies
sparing no crime however horrible, which had to be
committed in order to furnish the charms, pieces of hu-
man bodies and such other things as were necessary !
But now this magic art increased fearfully. The ora-
cles, which had never become absolutely silent, were
now more consulted than ever. The augury by the in-
spection of entrails, for a time neglected, though it was
the old Roman way to inquire into the future, now came
into frequent use. Alexander Severus paid teachers to
give lectures on the subject. Not only the entrails of
animals but also of men were examined, in order to
discover what the future would bring. The general
insecurity of the time, the dread of what might be
coming, or the ambition which was waiting for the
death of the Emperor, with the hope of taking his
place — all led to it. The last heathen Emperors were
particularly and passionately addicted to this magic
art. Women and children were cut open alive in the
palace of Diocletian's co-regent, in order to inspect
their entrails. Numerous amulets were worn to protect
from magic. Omens and signs were diligently observed.
Of almost every Emperor portents which predicted his
reigning are narrated by his contemporaries. In the
life of Diocletian one of the most important events was
the prophecy of a Druidess, who foretold that he would
be Emperor, when he was only a subaltern in the army
near Lutetia (Paris). Maximinus Daza never made any
318 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ii.
change without an omen ; he did not even go out with-
out consulting his Chaldean book of hours. The inter-
pretation of dreams was pursued with especial zeal.
Artemidorus of Ephesus spent his whole life in inves-
tigating all that had been written on dreams, and
even took long journeys to collect experiences and
materials. The result was his book Oneirocritica, the
interpretation of dreams. In it, dreams are divided,
with a semblance of science, into definite classes, and
then their meaning is given. If one has a dream of
a great head, that signifies riches and honors to such as
have them not, otherwise it portends care. Long and
smooth hair signifies happiness, short hair misfortune ;
wool instead of hair, sickness; a shorn head, misery.
If a man dreams that ants creep into his ear, that
signifies many hearers to an orator, but death to other
men, for ants come out of the earth.
Wandering magicians made a paying business out
of this nonsense. They wandered about in fantastic
costume, and offered their charms for sale. They sold
oracles, amulets, talismans, ointments, chains and bands,
which were said to keep off all kinds of evil, and to
heal certain diseases. Magicians and charmers enjoyed
great consideration. People crowded into the chambers
of mystery in which they made known the future and
conjured the shades of the dead, and exhibited table-
moving and spirit-rapping; and though perhaps the
great satirist Lucian, in order to scoff at his contempo-
raries, drew a caricature in his Alexander of Abono-
teichos, b}" combining too many swindles in that one
person, yet similar characters must have existed at that
time. In partnership with a comedy-writer from By-
zantium, Alexander bought a huge serpent in Pella.
CHAP, m.] ALEXANDER OF ABONOTEICHOS. 319
Then they hid in the temple of Apollo at Chalcedon
two brazen tablets on which was written that ^Escnla-
pius, with his father Apollo, would soon come to Abono-
teichos in Pontus. The discovery of the tablets made
the desired excitement, and Alexander went to Abono-
teichos to build the god a temple and to prepare all
things for his reception. Fantastically dressed in a
purple garment with white stripes, he appeared among
the people, and raised their expectations to the highest
pitch by various artifices. Meanwhile he had hidden
in the foundation of the temple an egg with a little
serpent in it, and now he appeared in the market-place
to announce to the people the advent of their god.
By occasional phrases of Hebrew and Chaldee he gave
to his speech the proper magical stamp, and when the
excitement had reached its climax he ran to the temple,
brought the egg^ and showed the infant god to the
astonished multitude. After a few days Alexander
solemnly presented their god to the people. Clad in
rich garments the prophet reclined upon costly cushions
in a dimly-lighted chamber, and about him coiled the
serpent which he had bought and trained for the
purpose ; this was the god already grown up. From
all quarters the people flocked thither ; the new god
dispensed oracles, and became a fountain of riches and
honor to his prophet. Alexander received gifts in abun-
dance, and even coins were struck in his honor, repre-
senting himself with his god Glykon. Nor was this all
romance. In truth Alexander had worshippers enough
even among the higher classes. In Rome Publius
Rutilianus, a man of consular rank, was his zealous
disciple. Marcus Aurelius asked counsel from him
when affairs went badly on the Danube, and by his
320 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ii.
advice instituted a great expiatory sacrifice. Near
Carlsburg an inscription lias recently been discovered,
which mentions Alexander and his serpent-god side by
side with Jupiter and Juno. Even as late as the time
when Athenagorus wrote his Apology, the statues of
Alexander were still publicly worshipped.^ There were
also other cases in which men were worshipped as gods
by the people. There was a half-wild man who wan-
dered about in the plain of Marathon, and who was
venerated by the inhabitants as a clemi-god under the
name of Agathion.* In Troas a certain Neryllis was
regarded as a prophet and a worker of miracles. His
statue stood in Troas, and was frequently crowned with
flowers ; sacrifices were offered, and cures attributed to
it.5 All these things show the hopeless confusion in
which the religious consciousness of the time was in-
volved.
Another characteristic of this time was its love for
all kinds of stories about ghosts and apparitions. Phle-
gon wrote whole books teeming with ghosts and mon-
sters. And the Golden Ass^ the popular romance
written by Apuleius of Madaura, is really nothing but
a series of tales of ghosts and magic, the product of
an unrestrained and impure imagination. Such books
were enjoyed with secret terror by his contemporaries.
There was a general belief that the dead might be
summoned and would appear, and such as understood
the art were much sought after. When Caracalla had
murdered his brother Geta, and in his remorse believed
that he was perpetually pursued by his dead brother,
armed with a sword, he was driven by terror to con-
jurations. Commodus and Severus appeared to him,
but with Severus came Geta uncalled, and uttered
CHAP. HI.] THE FUTURE LIFE. THE MYSTERIES. 321
terrible threats. Apuleius in the Golden Ass describes
a conjuration of this kind. He narrates the manner in
which an Egyptian conjured a corpse in the market-
place of Larissa. He stood before it clothed in a linen
robe, laid herbs three times on its mouth and breast,
and murmured prayers, turning towards the rising sun.
Such arts were now cultivated with a fanatical zeal
entirely foreign to earlier times. Heathenism became
fanatical in its demon-worship (we must bear this in
mind, as it will supply the key to many events to which
we shall come), and by this fanatical Heathenism the
conflict with Christianity was conducted in a far more
cruel and bloodthirsty manner than it had been carried
on by the earlier, more natural phase of Heathenism.
The attraction of the hereafter, which xvq noticed
under the early Empire, had now become much
stronger. If we look at the epitaphs of the third
century, we find indications of a heathen heaven. We
read: "Ye hapless survivors, lament this death; ye gods
and goddesses, rejoice over your new fellow-citizen;"
or: "Now art thou happy for the first time, far from
every earthly event ; high in heaven thou delightest in
ambrosia and nectar with the blessed gods ; " or again :
" Gods of the nether Vv^orld, open to my father the
groves where shines the rosy light of an eternal day." ^
Consecration is needed for entrance to this heaven.
Redemption is necessary, the heathen too now realize
that; but each must be his own redeemer, and must
accomplish his redemption by all kinds of trials and
sufferings.
Here was the root of the strong tendency to asceti-
cism which dominated this period. The orgy of pleas-
ure was past, the treasures of the conquered world had
322 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book n.
been squandered; with returning soberness the world
felt its misery, and sought to gain peace and salvation
by every kind of penance, self-chastisement, and self-
torture. This was also the cause of the widespread
popularity of the various Mysteries. The earlier Mys-
teries had a local stamp. He who came to Eleusis
would doubtless, from traditional reverence, seek initia-
tion into the Eleusinian Mysteries, but they were not
widely known. At this time however an entirely new
order of Mysteries appeared, which spread through the
whole Empire, and all of which made the attainment of
purification, regeneration, immortality, and blessedness
their object. Of many of these we know but little, be-
cause they were secret rites ; of others we possess more
particular information. There were the Mysteries of
Sabazius, of which we know only a few formulas. There
were also the dread Taurobolium and Kriobolium. The
novice was dressed in symbolic garments, and placed at
midnight in a vault covered with boards. Above him
a bullock or a ram was then sacrificed, and he was to
receive on his face and hands as much as possible of
the blood, that dripped through the holes and cracks
of the boards, for this was the vires ceternce, the blood
of eternal consecration. Then he had to go about in
the bloody garments for a certain period, and considered
himself, as the votive inscriptions testify, in ceternum
renatus, regenerated forever."^ Besides these there were
the highly venerated Mj^steries of Isis which were
much more complex. A long preparation preceded
them, including abstinence from meat, baths, and sprin-
kling with water of consecration. The initiated and
their friends brought votive offerings. On the conse-
cration-night indicated by a dream, the novice watched
CHAP, m.] SECRETS OF THE MYSTERIES. 323
in the temple, first in a harsh linen robe, then changing
twelve times his robes, all of which had symbolic mean-
ings, he went through a number of scenes and visions
which signified death and resurrection through the
favor of Isis.
A certain Lucius tells us concerning these rites : '' I
traversed the portals of death, I crossed the threshold
of Proserpine, and after passing through all the ele-
ments I returned. In the middle of the night I saw
the sun in its brightness, I approached the presence of
the gods, and drawing near unto them I offered my
petitions." At dawn Lucius found himself clad in a
figured robe, with a crown of palm-leaves on his head
and a torch in his hand, standing on a raised platform
in front of the image of Isis. Suddenly a curtain was
drawn away, and the multitude assembled in the body
of the temple saw in him a living image of the sun.
All kinds of apparatus for producing these appearances
belonged to the necessary furnishings of the temple,
and mirrors were principally used for this purpose.
In the doorway which leads to the inner temple of
Demeter at Eleusis, there are still visible grooves in
the stones which make it probable that by means of
ingenious machinery the initiated were conveyed into
the inner court of the temple, so that they seemed to
descend into the realm of shades. Hippolytus gives ^ a
long list of these artifices, of the way the priests so con-
trived, that the doors of the temple opened of them-
selves, that at the moment when the flame of the
sacrifice blazed up on the altar a mysterious music was
heard, that majestic forms appeared in the altar-flames,
and the like. Thus the novices really believed them-
selves perpetually surrounded with miracles.
324 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ii.
The mysteries of Mithras were more awe-inspiring,
and they best show how much the heathen were will-
ing to undergo in order to attain the expiation of their
sins. There were different degrees of consecration,
the raven^ the warrior^ the lion^ and so on. Novices
had to undergo many tests, called disciplines. There
were eighty such disciplines: fasting, standing and
lying in ice and snow, even for twenty days at a time,
the rack, horrors, flagellations, &c. They were so
severe, that many lost their lives in them. Yet great
numbers including nobles, and even Emperors, pressed
forward for the privilege of becoming warriors of
Mithras.
This period presents a strange picture. One might
feel inclined at the first glance to make it a subject of
laughter and mockery, and yet it cannot be contemplated
without sadness. Must the splendor of the ancient
world end in such a Witches'-Sabbath ! The world
which has listened to a Socrates and a Plato, produced
a Sophocles, and seen so much beauty, which once shone
with the glory of those works of art whose heroic pro-
portions still inspire our youth, — this world as it comes
to an end prays to a thousand wondrous gods, dog-
headed idols, and cone-shaped stones, creeps into the
caves of Mithras, and seeks regeneration in the expi-
atory blood of the Taurobolia, trembles before ghosts
and magic charms, and becomes the prey of every char-
latan who plays ofP miracles upon it !
It is not difficult to understand why the greatest
scoffer that ever lived should be born at this time. All
this superstition was to Lucian of Samosata, only a
merry comedy which supplied him with inexhaustible
subjects for laughter. " Be sober and incredulous ! "
CHAP, m.] LUCIAN THE SCOFFER. 325
With this motto he confronts the men of his age like a
solitary clear-headed man before a company of drunken
revellers. He mocks at all things, gods and men. In
his dialogues of the gods, we witness a domestic squab-
ble between Jupiter and Juno ; then we find all Olym-
pus in despair when the cause of the gods is ill sus-
tained in a disputation between Stoic and Epicurean
philosophers; and again we learn what kind of a recep-
tion is given to all the queer new gods who crowd into
Olympus. With the most biting satire he attacks su-
perstition, magic, and the wandering jugglers ; but then
Plato and Socrates also are objects of his mockery, and
in Christianity he sees only one of the many follies of
the time. The worshippers of " the crucified sophist "
are to him just such superstitious fools as the devotees
of Alexander's serpent-god. He recognizes the benevo-
lence of the Christians. They show, he concedes, an
unsurpassed activity in helping, defending, or consol-
ing one of their number, and they are utterly regardless
of expense in matters affecting their common good.
But he only laughs at the fiction which their first law-
giver inculcated, that they are all brethren. He sees
how they despise death, but this too is ridiculous to
him ; for the hapless beings (according to him), have
persuaded themselves that they are entirely immortal
and will live for all time. There is indeed no more ter-
rible spectacle than such a man, to whom every thing is
ridiculous; for this proves that there is for him no
longer any thing holy. Accurately as Lucian pictured
his age, he yet did not understand it. He saw only the
peculiarities and monstrosities, but the earnest striving
which pervaded it, the yearning which produced such
strange developments, he never suspected. To a thor-
326 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book il
ough-going materialist such as Lucian, no age is so
incomprehensible as one like his.
After the orgies of the earlier Empire, a fast-day pen-
itential feeling had taken possession of the world, and
far and wide the question moved all hearts: "What
must I do to be saved?" Such times are always of
great importance for the kingdom of God. The anxiety
about their souls' salvation, which impelled men to re-
sort to the Mysteries, might show them the way to the
true and unique mystery of redemption. The longing
for forgiveness, which did not shrink from severe dis-
cipline and penance, v/as fitted to open their hearts to
the preaching of that forgiveness which is freely offered
to all through grace.
At first, of course, Heathenism attempted to deliver
itself, to satisfy from its own resources the deficiencies
which could no longer be ignored. Once more the
Greek spirit bestirred itself, and framed a new and final
system of philosophy, — Neoplatonism.
Ammonius the porter, of Alexandria, is said to have
been the father of Neoplatonism, but his pupil Plotinus
first developed it into a regular system. It was in all
respects a medley such as times of ferment are wont to
produce. It was a philosophy, a revival of Platonism,
but in such fashion as to incorporate with Platonism
many other elements. Plotinus actually endeavored to
show that all philosophic systems had but one aim, and
attempted to unite Aristotle and the Stoics with Plato.
But Neoplatonism was at the same time a theology, or
more correctly a theosophy. The who^e system was
pervaded by a moral and religious way of looking at
things, corresponding to the strong religious tendency
of the age. Thus the knowledge of the Supreme Being
OHAP. TIT.] NEOPLATONISM. 327
was to be gained not by philosophic speculation, but by
contemplation, by immediate intuition. Indeed, Neo-
platonism appeared in the character of a new revelation.
Ammonius was called " the inspired of God," ^ and
Plotinus believed himself accompanied by not merely
a demon, but a god of superior rank. When he was
invited to a sacrifice he answered : " It is the part of
the gods to come to me, not mine to go in search of
them." 10
Plotinus designates as the object of his teachings " to
lead the soul from the state of dishonor, in which it is
estranged from its father and its source, in which it
ignores its true being and grovels among transitory
things, to a condition the reverse of the former, up to the
supreme good." ^^ The original and supreme being,
the first cause of all things, was, according to Plotinus,
the One, the Good, who is exalted so high above all,
that definition and distinction and relation to any thing
else are excluded from his being. Yet although the
One dwells in an absolute isolation, from him proceeds a
communication of force, descending step by step. The
gradations are the thinking mind, the creative soul, and
matter. Matter is the last product of the descending
series of emanations from the First. It is the negation
of being, and while the One, the First, is the Good and
the source of good, matter is the last, in which no ele-
ment of good remains, the source of evil. It is the dark-
ness over against the light. Now it is the office of the
soul to enlighten matter, since its sphere borders on
matter. But matter re-acts on the soul. By mixing
with darkness the soul's light becomes dimmer. This
is the fall of the soul. It is true the soul itself still re-
mains pure, good, and rational, but its being is obscured
328 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book n.
with matter, like one plunged in the mire. Man's
duty then is to purify himself from matter, to win his
way back from the material world to the higher sphere.
This duty may be accomplished through virtue ; that is,
the soul liberates itself from material elements by asceti-
cism, and concentrates itself upon the One. Thus the
soul comes to the contemplation of the Supreme Being,
and though these moments of mj^stic union are only
rare glimpses of light during {his earthly life (Ploti-
nus himself attained to this contemplation only a few
times), yet, when the soul is freed from the fetters of
the body, it will enjoy the uninterrupted contempla-
tion of the Supreme Being.
The similarity of this system to Christianity is as
easy to discern, as their radical difference. In both,
redemption is the object, but Plotinus recognized
neither the depth of sin nor the height of grace. His
Supreme Being is not the living God, who is love, the
Creator and Father of all, but an abstract unity. It was
only the " unknown God " whom Plotinus recognized.
And therefore matter was regarded as evil in itself,
and redemption as consisting ki the withdrawal of the
soul from the material world. And this redemption
man could accomplish for himself by asceticism, and
the practice of virtue. As Plotinus was entirely shut
in by the heathen horizon of thought, he naturally
brought the heathen mythology into his system. The
myths were, in his view, nothing but the drapery cloth-
ing speculative ideas. His whole system had conven-
ient points of connection with the popular faith of the
heathen, and his pupils followed out the hints he gave.
The idea that God works and reveals himself in vari-
ous emanations was expanded into a regular hierarchy
CHAP, m.] NEOPLATONISM AND MAGIC. 329
of superior and inferior gods. Next to the supernal
gods came those inhabiting the earth, and below these
the demons good and bad. In this way the entire
popular creed could be philosophically justified. The
people addressed as their gods those who inhabited
the earth, while the sage elevated his thoughts to the
Supreme One.
The idea that soul permeates the entire world, and
that therefore every thing therein was instinct with life
and soul, even things apparently destitute of them, that
one life animates the whole, and that therefore there
exists a secret sympathy in all things — this idea gave
a philosophic basis for magic and soothsaying, so that
the whole business of sorcery could now be retained
and even zealously cultivated. Thus Neoplatonism de-
veloped into the theology of restored Heathenism, which
was in this way made to rest on a scientific foundation
for the educated. The Neoplatonists, however, purposed
not only restoration, but reform. In giving a new foun-
dation for the heathen religion, they purposed also to
purify it from the grossest objections, and to communi-
cate to it some elements which Christianity already pos-
sessed. For instance, bloody sacrifices v/ere to be abol-
ished, and bloodless offerings and prayers were to take
their place. Worship also was no longer to consist
only of dead ceremonies, but teaching and preaching
were to be included in it, according to the example of
the Christian Church.
This fact clearly shows that Christianity, although
still decidedly in the minority, had already become the
dominant power in the world. Strange indeed had
seemed to the heathen the spiritual worship of the
Christians, and much scoffing was directed against
330 RE- ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book n.
'their practice of instructing artisans and old women
in religious matters.' But now, that which had been
derided was recognized as a want which the heathen
strove to satisfy on the basis of Heathenism. Their
worship, too, was to be spiritualized, the gross material-
ism of animal sacrifices removed, and provision made
for the instruction of the people. Consciously, or un-
consciously, the reformation of Heathenism was evi-
dently guided by the influence of Christianity, and the
latter became to such a degree the mainspring of the
movement, that reformed Heathenism adopted features
borrowed from Christianity and even grew to be an
imitation of it.
We used a borrowed expression in speaking of "a
heathen heaven," to indicate the similarity to the Chris-
tian heaven which the heathen idea of the next world
assumed. In like manner a heathen Bible might be
spoken of. Porphyry, one of the leaders of the Neo-
platonist school, made a collection of heathen oracles
and divine utterances, in the preface to which he says :
" Those will best recognize the usefulness of this collec-
tion, who in their longing for truth have prayed that
they might enjoy a vision of the Gods, in order that
they might find rest from their doubts in teachings
which emanated from trustworthy authority." ^^ What
is this but a heathen Bible ! All the Christian concep-
tions— -expiation, purification from sin, regeneration
— were now to be met with among the heathen, and
the goal of their Mysteries was redemption, that is, a
heathen redemption. The heathen Colleges of priests,
also, had entirely changed their organization ; indeed,
in Diocletian's time, they had become a sort of hier-
archy, a kind of teaching order. In this, also, the
CHAP, ra.] APOLLONIUS OF TYANA. 331
approximation to the Christian Church is sufficiently
perceptible. A heathen Church organized itself in
opposition to the Christian Church, and, to push the
parallel to the utmost, there was put forward a heathen
Christ, or, rather, several.
Long before, Seneca had said that man must have
a guide in order to attain peace, and this desire for a
guide to the soul had grown ever stronger. Some
sought this guide among the gods, and Mithras, " the in-
vincible companion," was among those selected. Others
took for a guide one among the sages of the past, yet
then it was not a historic, but an idealized image of
the sage which was set forth. Thus were Plato and
Pythagoras treated. The greatest celebrity of this kind,
however, was accorded to Apollonius of Tyana, for we
find him exhibited as a veritable heathen Christ. The
historical Apollonius was a magician and necromancer,
who spent his life in journeying about and plying his
magic arts, and who also asserted that visions were
vouchsafed to him. In the reign of Septimius Severus,
Flavins Philostratus wrote a biography of this Apol-
lonius, in which, by the most fanciful idealization, he
is set forth as a counterpart and rival of Christ. His
mother bore him to the god Proteus ; swans sang sweet
lullabies over the cradle of the new-born child. Even
in childhood he gave indications of marvellous powers,
and in early life he withdrew into solitude, and took
long journeys. He acquired the wisdom of India in
that land, and then began his progress through the
world m order to reform Heathenism. He drew dis-
ciples round him, preached in the principal cities of the
Roman Empire, and performed numerous miracles.
" His mouth was a brimming cup, and every one was
332 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book n.
free to come and slake his thirst." ^^ The miracles
which Philostratiis relates are often very similar to
Christ's miracles. In Rome, for instance, Apollonius
met a funeral procession; a young girl lay upon the
bier; her bridegroom followed weeping, accompanied
by many friends. Apollonius stopped the procession,
asked the name of the dead, then touched the corpse,
and spoke a few words. Immediately the young girl
arose, as if she had awaked from sleep.^^ His preach-
ing inculcated the reform of Heathenism. He rejected
bloody sacrifices, and offered only incense. He ap-
proved the erection of temples and altars to the gods,
but not statues ; it ought to be left open to every one
to form his own inward imagination of the deity.^^ It
is peculiarly significant that Apollonius urged men to
love their neighbors and to do good. Standing on the
steps of the temple at Ephesus — so Philostratus nar-
rates ^^ — he was preaching, and with vivid illustrations
was exhorting men to be helpful one to another. Near
him were some sparrows quietly perched on a tree.
There came another sparrow, and uttered a cry, as if to
communicate some tidings. Then they all flew away,
and followed the messenger. Apollonius, seeing it, in-
terrupted his preaching, and said : " A child was carry-
ing some corn in a basket. The child fell down, and
then went on, after partially collecting the corn, but left
some of it scattered in the street. The sparrow saw it,
and sought his fellows, in order that all might have a
share in what he had found." Some of those present
immediately went, and found that it was indeed just
as he had said. Then said Apollonius to the people :
" You see how much interest the sparrows manifest in
each other's welfare, and how willing, they are to divide
CHAP, m.] APOLLONItJS A HEATHEN CHRIST 333
their possessions one with another; but you, on the
other hand, when you see that a man is sharing his prop-
erty with others, call him a spendthrift." ApoUonius
also suffered persecution on account of his reformatory
work. In vain did his friends endeavor to hold him
back from going to Rome, where Domitian was gratify-
ing his savage passions. "I dare not flee from my
enemies," answered ApoUonius, " I must fight for my
friends." Domitian threw him into prison, but Apol-
lonius suddenly disappeared from the sight of his
judges, and in the evening re-appeared to his friends at
Pozzuoli.^^ These refused to believe that it was indeed
himself, but he permitted them to touch him to con-
vince them that it was no phantom which they beheld.
Later in the island of Crete he disappeared, when a voice
was heard, " Leave the earth, and ascend to heaven ! " ^^
There can be no doubt that we have here a repre-
sentation drawn with the full intention of constructing
a heathen counterpart of Christ. Philostratus was not,
like Lucian, merely writing a satire, but he was seri-
ously making the attempt to set up a heathen Christ in
opposition to the Christian Christ. And this is the
more significant since we have here not simply the
personal views and intentions of Philostratus. He was
an honored member of the coterie of learned men
which gathered around the intellectual women at the
court of the Emperor Septimius Severus, Julia Domna
his wife, her sister Julia Maesa, and their niece Julia
Mammssa. In this circle religious questions were much
discussed, and without any prepossession in favor of
the relig-ion of the Roman state. Julia Domna indeed
was the daughter of a priest of the sun in Emesa.
The predominant tendency in this circle was thor-
334 RE-ACTION IN HEATHENISM. [book ii.
oughly syncretic, and this syncretism was not averse
to Christianity. The Christian religion, too, was not
without adherents at the court ; a chamberlain of Com-
modus was a Christian, ^^ and another Christian called
Proculus belonged (according to Tertullian ^^) to the
household of Severus. It was recognized that there
was something in the new religion. The spotless mor-
ality of the Christians and the steadfastness of the
martyrs made a profound impression. The idea was
no longer repudiated that the Christians possessed
something which the heathen lacked. Was it not pos-
sible, then, for Heathenism to appropriate this? Could
there not as a rival to the Christ of the Christians be
set up a heathen Christ, in whose portrait the excellence
which belonged to Christianity might be combined with
Heathenism? Such was the school of thought from
which sprang the book of Philostratus.
Indeed there was at this time a general and percepti-
ble desire for a harmonious agreement with Christianity.
Even Celsus had proposed a kind of treaty with the
Christians. But now the thought of the age was still
more definitely directed towards it. Elagabalus made
room for a chapel for Christianity in his universal tem-
ple ; Alexander Severus openly showed his sympathy
with the new faith. Christianity was to be received
among the religions of the Roman Empire, but of course
only, on condition that it would seek for nothing more
than to be a religion amongst many others, and that it
would itself recognize the heathen religions. But this
was impossible, and therefore there was no alternative
but to renew the conflict. Indeed even this idea of an
agreement which would concede to Christ a place in
the Roman Pantheon, by the side of Jupiter, Isis, and
UK
CHAP. III.] FANATICAL HEATHENISM. 335
Mithras, would contribute, since the plan proved im-
practicable, to hasten the real decisive struggle.
It would show but little knowledge of human na-
ture, to found on the fact that Heathenism had come
considerably nearer to Christianity the hope that it
would henceforth occupy a more friendly attitude to-
wards the Christian faith. These advances on the part
of Heathenism may perhaps have made a bridge on
which an individual here and there passed over into the
Church ; but, on the whole, they would only intensify
the antagonism, when it was recognized that Christi-
anity would enter into no compromise. For the hea-
then now believed that they possessed, and that in a
much purer form, the excellences which Christianity
was conceded to contain. Hence this Christianity
which utterly repudiated union had now the less right
to exist. The earlier form of Heathenism would not
have had the strength to fight a decisive battle with
Christianity. It cannot be denied that this restoration
put new strength into Heathenism, though the strength
was not of the right kind. And further, the purpose
could now be formed of making restored Heathenism
serve as a religious foundation for the restoration of
political and national life, and thus of accomplishing
the restoration of the ancient world as a whole. But
the first step towards this consummation must be the
annihilation of Christianity. The unnaturalness of the
restoration became the measure of its fanaticism, and it
was restored Heathenism which first, with all the ardor
of a fanatic, began a war of extermination against
Christianity. The combatants approached each other,
not to join hands, but only to grasp each other the more
firmly for the last desperate struggle.
336 RE-ACTION m CHRISTIAKITY. [book n.
n. THE INTERNAL RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY.
We may say of Christianity, that it likewise had in a
certain sense drawn nearer to Heathenism. Christianity
had passed through a comprehensive development, which
may be concisely described as its naturalization in the
world.
The early Christians had many of the characteristics
of men who have just entered on a new life. While
vividly conscious of having forced their way into an
entirely new existence, they were no less aware that
they were cut off from their former life and separated
from all those who were left behind in it. Their new
and youthful enthusiasm made them ready for sacrifice,
rejoicing to suffer ; but the tendency towards the renun-
ciation of the v/orld was stronger than the zeal for its
conquest. They lived in constant fear of losing their
new-found treasure, and were very wary of risking it by
any proximity to the world. They could not as yet
summon courage for the endeavor to make the new life
permeate the world around ; but showed an inclination
to withdraw into solitude, in order to rejoice by them-
selves in the grace they had received. They preferred
simply to have the enjoyment of it, rather than to put
it out at interest and work with it. They associated
freely with those of like views, but only to cut them-
selves off the more strictly from the rest of the world.
They feared to do many things lest they might fall into
sin, and thus an element of legalism easily mingled with
the earnestness and zeal of their consecration. The
whole horizon of their life was a narrow one, and if they
might choose, it would be that man might speedily leave
this world and be at home with his Lord. From this
CHAP, m.] PIETISM OF TB:E EARLY CHURCH. 337
came the tendency so characteristic of the Christian life \
of this period, to be chiefly intent on the next world, to }
the comparative neglect of the Christian's duties here ; )
from this, the predilection for occupying the thoughts f
with eschatology and the coming of Christ.
All this gave to the earliest Christianity — let me '-
say it without seeming to apply modern party-names to !
that period — an almost pietistic character, and to the \
Church a trace of the conventicle. The coming of the
Lord was then believed to be quite near, and this hope ;
dominated the whole life. No provision was made for ;.
a long continuance of the Church on earth, and all
efforts were exclusively directed towards remaining in ■
the world without spot, till the day of Christ's coming.
The mission of Christianit}^ to conquer the world, to
permeate it with the Christian spirit, and thereby to
shape it anew, had scarcely received any attention.
Not thus could Christianity conquer the world ! It
must become larger-hearted, must go to meet the world,
condescend to it, in order in this way to conquer. The '
Church must not remain as it was, it must strip off the
guise of the conventicle, and become the Church of
the people.
Of course every step in this direction was fraught
with the greatest danger. If the strict exclusion of
the world were discarded, how easy would it be to
descend to the level of the world, and so become
entirely unable to subdue it I For he who puts himself
on a level with the world is so far from beino^ able to
conquer it, that rather he is conquered by it. Instead
of becoming the Church of the people in the true
sense-, the Church might have become any and every
bodj^'s Church, and thus have sacrificed to the world
3^8 BE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
its essential character. There was imminent danger
that if the Church did not remain in seclusion and
silence, it would become so liberal that the dividing
line between Christianity and Heathenism would be
obliterated, and that the former would be wholly ab-
sorbed by the latter.
Under the guidance of its Lord, the Church was
victorious over these dangers, and indeed it was in the
great conflicts with Montanism and Gnosticism that the
changes were occasioned which brought into existence
the Church of the people, and so prepared Christianity
for the decisive battle with Heathenism.
The exclusiveness above referred to seemed indeed
about to disappear naturally. The fearful storm of per-
secution under Marcus Aurelius had resulted in the op-
posite of its object : instead of annihilating the Church,
it promoted the Church's growth. In the comparatively
tranquil times which followed, the number of the
Christians increased with special rapidity, and we learn
in particular of an extraordinary number of conver-
sions among the higher classes. So that even TertuUian
could say : " We are of yesterday, and yet have filled
every place belonging to you, — cities, islands, castles,
towns, assemblies, your very camp, your tribes, com-
panies, senate and forum ; " ^^ and Eusebius observes
that since the time of Commodus ''the saving word
has brought the souls of men of every race to the
devout veneration of the God of the universe, so that
already in Rome many of those distinguished by do-
scent and wealth have sought salvation with their whole
house and famil}^"^- The natural result of this was
a relaxation, with many, of the rigid strictures hitherto
maintained. Christians in the higher classes, who liad
CHAP. III.] KELAXED STRICTNESS. 339
numerous family connections among the heathen, did
not scruple even to attend family festivals in heathen
households, and of course, also, to be present at the
customary heathen rites, to wear garlands, and join in
the festal banquet. It is true they always made it a
point not to participate in heathen worship, yet the
range of that which was considered permissible was
gradually though imperceptibly enlarged. Some even
ventured to accompany their heathen relatives to the
games and to the theatre.^^ In the long run it be-
came impossible for the Christians to refuse military
service and public offices, and thus new ties were
necessarily, though unwillingly, formed with the world.
Opinions differed very much in Carthage, when a
soldier on the Emperor's birthday held his garland in
his hand, and refused to wear it. When he was con-
demned to death for his refusal, he was regarded by
some as a martyr, a steadfast witness, while others saw
in him a fanatic, who had given unnecessar}^ offence by
his conduct.^^ In many places it was openly said to
be Christian wisdom not to oppose the world with too
great strenuousness. Christians ought not, it was said,
to provoke the heathen ; and Titus ii. 5 became a
favorite verse to excuse various courses of conduct, by
saying that they were adopted in order that the name
of God and of Christ might not be blasphemed by the
heathen.-^ Under this pretext, it was asserted to be
permissible, not only to flee from persecution, but even
to avert it by bribing soldiers and magistrates. They
were only, so they said, rendering to Caesar the things
that were Caesar's, — namely, money ; and by means of
a pecuniary sacrifice providing that the Church might
assemble in tranquillity, and keep the Lord's day with-
840 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
out being molested.^^ The discipline of the churches
also began to be more lax. Those who had actually
apostatized were received back into the Church on
easier terms than before. Even when they were refused
by the proper authorities, the members often took the
exercise of discipline into their own hands. For those
who had been in prison, or had suffered torture for the
faith, soon began to claim as a right what had been con-
ceded to them as a mark of honor ; namely, that every
one whom they admitted to fellowship should be re-
garded as thereby re-admitted to the fellowship of the
Church. And they exercised this right in the most
arbitrary manner, so that the discipline of the Church
in many places became completely disorganized from
this cause.
It must be admitted that weakness was not the only
cause of this relaxation from the original stringency,
and that there was some truth in the frequent promi-
nence given to Christian wisdom and prudence. Of
course what was feasible so long as the churches were
small, and the Christians almost without exception
belonged to the lower classes, became impossible when
the churches grew large and numbered some members
among the nobility. It was easy for an artisan to retire
from the world, but how could a knight, a senator, or a
member of some distinguished family, break with all his
previous connections when he became a Christian ? And
was such a course likely to prove advantageous for the
Church? Did not the hope of the further spread of
Christianity among the educated classes depend mainly
upon those very connections? And, further, was it
possible permanently to withdraw from military service ?
If a soldier was converted, must he not remain a soldier ?
CHAP. III.] WISDOM AND WEAKNESS. 341
Rome was the earthly fatherland of the Christians, no
less than others : did not their duty as citizens require
them to share in its defence ? Was it right for Chris-
tians to continue to decline all public of&ces ? Would
they not, as officials, enjoy special opportunities for
serving their Lord ? But if they served as soldiers, if
they held public offices, they must be permitted to do
mauy things which it had formerly been held duty to
avoid as bringing them into contact with Heathenism.
And was it possible to continue the former severity of
discipline, when the churches were no longer little con-
venticles, but, many of them, large congregations in the
great cities ? If the multitude were to be received into
the Church, the standard of holy living must not be
set too high; or to speak more correctly (since this
standard is not under the control of the Church) it
became necessary to help the weak by not making the
way to reconciliation with the Church too difficult for
such as stumbled and fell.
Yet it cannot be denied that the relaxation of former
stringency betrayed much real weakness, which was
only hidden under the pretext of Christian wisdom and
foresight. The difficult problem of the relations be-
tween the Church and the world was not to be solved
by retaining the former strictness in theor}^, and making
one concession after another to the weakness of indi-
vidual members; for this would have led to an inclined
plane, by which the Church might have descended to
complete identification with the world. And so it was
well for the Church, that against this wide-spread laxity
there arose an energetic re-action, which, of course,
like all re-actions, not merely strove to maintain the
previous practice, but went beyond it, and so impelled
342 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
the Church, in vanquishing the extreme party, to an
intelligent search for the true position.
This re-action took the form of what was called Mon-
tanism, the doctrine of a sect which obtained its name
from its supposed founder, Montanus. It arose about
the middle of the second century in Phrygia, and by
the beginning of the third it had become prevalent and
to some extent predominant in Asia Minor and Africa,
also in Rome and the West in general. The prime
object of Montanism was to preserve the early strict-
ness of conduct and discipline, and to restore it where
it had been relaxed. Yet it did not stop there, but
sought to increase stringency beyond the former lim-
its. With this object its prophets and prophetesses
re-awakened the expectation of the speedy advent of
Christ, which had already become weakened. The
Montanists proclaimed that the end of the world was
at hand, and that the Church had entered upon the
last period of its existence ; the period of the Para-
clete, of the Holy Spirit, who was giving to the Church
by the mouth of his prophets a new law, new precepts
for conduct and discipline. These precepts without
exception inculcated an increase of strictness. The
former rule had been : what is not forbidden is per-
mitted. But now the rule was : what is not expressly
allowed is forbidden. The Church was bidden to sun-
der itself more sharply from the world. Montanism
took a position directly opposed to all worldly culture,
art, science, and pleasure. All these were sinful, and
the Christian must not become involved in them. Great
stress was laid upon the duty of martyrdom, and every
evasion of it, even an escape by flight, was punished as
a denial of the faith. The fasts were made more strict,
C?HAP. m.] MONTANISM. 343
and enforced with the severity of a law. Much impor-
tance was attached to many little things, such as that
virgins were not to come to church without being veiled.
But above all, the discipline of the Church was made
much more strict, and in this the essential character of
Montanism is most clearly seen. Montanism absolutely
and forever refused to receive again into the Church all
who had fallen into mortal sin, even after their repent-
ance. God might receive them again (that possibility
was not denied), but the Church, never.
If this sect had gained the upper hand in the Church,
the Church could never have become a factor in the
world's history. It would have shrivelled up to a con-
venticle, condemned to immobility, and possessing no
influence upon the life of the people. If it had shut
up the doors between itself and the world, it would
have become incapable of conquering the world. By
taking a position opposed to science and art, the Church
would never have had the power to bring forth a Chris-
tian science, a Christian art. It might thus have fos-
tered within its walls a heroic renunciation of the world,
it might have produced characters of intense devotion,
saints and sufferers, but it could never have become the
teacher of the people. For it is a necessary condition
of education, that the teacher should be able to come
down to the level of the taught, and that was impossible
to such a community of saints. They were acquainted
with only a discipline which excludes, not an education
which wins and gathers in. And in this way the
Church could never have laid the foundation for the
reconstruction of the State, since a Christian State is
inconceivable from the Montanistic point of view. But
the Church succeeded in conquering Montanism, though
344 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [ijook ii.
only after a severe struggle, and that, without itself
being led into the opposite extreme ; a fact which must
be taken into account in order to appreciate the real
value of the victory. The Church did not disregard
the warning against laxity, which was contained in
Montanism, but it realized no less the necessity of be-
coming naturalized in the world, and deserves the
recognition of the fact that it long held, on the whole,
to the golden mean. Without letting go the hope of
the final advent of the Lord, the Church entered upon
its historical development and its citizenship on. earth.
Without renouncing the high standard of sanctification
in its members, the Church learned condescension to
the weak. While sustaining discipline with all energy,
the Church also held open to the fallen a way of return.
Though conscious that it was not of this world, yet the
Church gave scope to all that is great and beautiful in
man, according to the apostolic word, "all things are
yours." The purely negative renunciation of the world
gave place to the victor}^ over it, which indeed is the
end, to which renunciation is only a means ; and hence-
forth the Church more and more recognized its mission
to permeate all things, including science, art, and the
life of the people, with the spirit of Christianity.
The antipode of Montanism is Gnosticism. It is dif-
ficult in a few lines to sketch this Gnosticism, whose
first germs appeared in the apostolic age, and which
grew into a great danger for the Church in the second
century. Gnosis means knoivledge^ and the essence
of this movement lies in the word which furnished its
name ; since it put Gnosis^ that is knowledge^ into the
place of faith. To the Gnostic the great question
was not, "What must I do to be saved?" but his in-
CHAP, m.] GNOSTICISM. 345
quiries concerned the genesis and development of the
world, the origin of evil, and the restoration of the
primitive order of things in the world. In the very
knowledge of these was redemption as the Gnostic
understood it. Thus, by combining with the ideas
original to Christianity the most various elements, such
as Greek philosophy, Jewish theology, and ancient Orien-
tal theosophy, great systems of speculative thought were
constructed, all with the object of displaying the process
of the world's development. According to this develop-
ment, from a pantheistic First Cause emanates a series of
beings called ^ons, beings of Light, of which each in
succession as it recedes from the First Cause is also less
perfect than the preceding. Finally the last and lowest
comes into contact with Matter, which from all eternity
has stood opposed to the divine Light — as Darkness,
Non-existence, and all that is the reverse of divine.
From this contact, from the mingling of the Light with
Matter, the visible world comes into being, in which a
portion of spiritual being, of Light, is held captive by
Matter and combined with it. Redemption is the liber-
ation of this captive Light from the fetters of Matter,
the dissolution of this union, and the restoration of the
original order of things. This redemption has been
accomplished by Christ. This last tenet bears testimony
to the connection of Gnosticism with Christianity, in
contrast to many similar heathen systems, but of course
what the Gnostics call redemption is something entirely
different from that to which the Scriptures give the
same name. Gnostic redemption is not deliverance
from sin, but the restoration of cosmic order, and so
Christ is to them, not the Saviour who brings salvation,
forgiveness of sin; his sphere is not saving, but the
346 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
ordering of the universe. There is no place in the
Gnostic system for the creation, or for the incarnation.
The view that Matter in itself is evil, excludes the pos-.
sibility of Christ's having really assumed a human
nature. Only in appearance did he become man, and
his v/hole life on earth, especially his passion and death,
were all an illusion. The Gnostics were thorough
Docetists, that is, they treated the whole manifestation
of Christ as only a semblance. The events which
brought salvation were not facts to them, but remained
only as symbols, and the substance of Christianity was
evaporated into speculative ideas.
I have already called Gnosticism the antipode of Mon-
tanism. Such indeed it was. If Montanism was over-
narrow, here we find an all-embracing breadth. Gnos-
ticism knew how to utilize every mental product of the
age. Elements, oriental and occidental, in a curious
medley, philosophy and popular superstition, all Avere
collected and used as materials for the building of
Gnostic systems. The myths of the heathen may be
found side by side with the Gospel histories, which
were only myths to the Gnostic. One proof-text is
taken from the Bible, and the next from Homer or
Hesiod, and both alike are used by an allegorical
exegesis to support the ready-made creations of the
author's fancy. Breadth enough too, in morality ; no
trembling fear of pollution, no anxious care to exclude
the influence of Heathenism. It was no fiction inspired
by the hatred of heresy, when the Gnostics were said
to be very lax in their adhesion to the laws of morality.
Many of them expressly permitted flight from persecu-
tion.
Gnosticism extended far and wide in the second
CHAP, m.] GNOSTICISM AND THE CHURCH. 347
century. There was something very imposing in those
mighty systems, which embraced heaven and earth.
How plain and meagre in comparison seemed simple
Christianity ! There was something remarkably attrac-
tive in the breadth and liberality of Gnosticism. It
seemed completely to have reconciled Christianity with
culture. How narrow the Christian Church appeared !
Even noble souls might be captivated by the hope of
winning the world over to Christianity in this way;
while the multitude was attracted by the dealing in
mysteries with which the Gnostic sects fortified them-
selves, by offering mighty spells and amulets, thus
pandering to the popular taste. Finally, some were no
doubt drawn in by the fact that less strictness of life
was required, and that they could thus be Christians
without suffering martyrdom.
But the victory of Gnosticism would have been the
ruin of Christianity. Christianity would have split
into a hundred sects, its line of division from Hea-
thenism would have been erased, its inmost essence
would have been lost, and instead of producing some-
thing really new, it would have become only an element
of the melting mass, an additional ingredient in the
fermenting chaos of religions which characterized the
age.
And the Church fought as for its life with all the
forms of the false Gnosis. Over against the mighty
systems of the Gnostics, the Church stood, in sober
earnestness and childlike faith, on the simple Christian
doctrine of the apostles. This was to be sought in the
churches founded by the apostles themselves, where
they had defined the faith in their preaching. Tradition
was appealed to against the heretics, but in truth with
348 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
the same end in view which the Reformers had in going
back to the Scriptures, in order to oppose a corrupted
tradition. For then the Church was in direct possession
of an unadulterated tradition, from which the doctrine
preached b}^ the apostles could be known with certainty.
At this time the Church began to make a trustworthy
collection of the apostolic writings, and, on the basis
of both scripture and tradition, held with the greatest
tenacity to the historical facts as the basis of true
Christianity, parrying every attempt to transform them
into semblances or symbols. These facts were con-
densed, on the basis of scripture, into a short rule
of faith, and this, whose perfected expression in the
"Apostles' Creed" is still our rule of faith, was set
up as a firm breakwater against the flood of Gnostic
speculation. In it, over against the Gnostic scheme of
seons emanating from the First Cause, the Church
acknowledged with clear simplicity God the Father,
Maker of heaven and earth. In opposition to Gnostic
idealism, the Church avowed its faith in the real histori-
cal facts, that the Son of God truly became man, was
born of the Virgin Mary, was truly crucified and died,
truly rose again. Thus the Church rescued Christianity,
and also began the framing of a confession of faith,
created the elements of a catechism, and so supplied
the necessary basis for the Church of the people.
Neither Gnosticism nor Montanism could have produced
a Church of the people. Montanism would only have
gathered a conventicle of select saints, while Gnosti-
cism would indeed have brought together a great multi-
tude, but without any definite boundary on the side of
Heathenism, so that no one would have known whether
the members of the Church were Christians or heathen.
CHAP, m.] POLITY OF THE CHURCH. 349
But the Church, by the conquest of both Montanism
and Gnosticism, really took the form of a Church for
the people.
Finally, in the midst of these struggles, there grew
up something not less important to the development
of the Church than its victories, namely, the form of
its polity.
From the first, the Church had had a polity ; church- 7
ofi&ces had always existed. To imagine the churches i
as at any time without administration and organization ^
would be entirely unhistorical. Where the apostles
founded churches, they also appointed officials. These /
were called Presbyters^ that is, Elders; or, what had \
then the same meaning, Bishops, that is, Overseers?'^
Every church had several of these officials; no single
person stood at the head of the church, but a college /
of equal elders held sway. Yet their office was not -
primarily that of teaching. Teaching was the preroga-
tive of the apostles ; and, in a broader sense, any mem- |
ber of the church might come forward as a teacher, if
he had a gift for the work. Only the women were g
excluded by Paul. The duty of the elders was rather #
to preside over the church, to guide and govern it.
Their office was primarily to rule. But of course it
naturally came to pass that the duty of building up the
church in doctrine was committed to them, since they,
as the most prominent members, were best fitted for
the task. Beside the Eldership, but subordinate to it,
was the office of Deacon, that is, Servant, not principally,
still less exclusively (as some represent it nowadays),
an office of almsgiving, but of service generally, auxil-
iary to the Presbyterate, and so, of course, largely con-
nected with the work of charitv in the church.
860 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
The Eldership, however, was only a local, not an
ecclesiastical office ; that is, it related only to the local
church, not to the Church at large. The local churches,
apart from the bond of sharing the labors of the apos-
tles, who belonged to no local church, were only united
|by the connection of one common faith, and by the tie
of love which embraced all.^^ An organic connection
through an ecclesiastical office, which should rule over
several local churches, had not then come into being.
The organization of the churches remained in this
simple condition after the apostolic age and into the
second century. Few forms were needed, because the
Spirit was still present in fulness of life and power,
% while the churches were small, and all their relations
( very simple. But with the first decade of the second
century, an important change came about. Not at one
/time in all the local churches, still less by any conamon
decision, but by an inward necessity, which made itself
felt simultaneously in different localities, one of the
presbyter-bishops was raised from among his peers to
I be the leader, and to him, with the thenceforth restricted
title of bishop, the government of the church was con-
fided ; so that there were offices of three grades : a sin-
^ gle bishop and a plurality of elders and of deacons.
In this new form the episcopal office was still only
over the local church, and the difference between the
rulers and the ruled was regarded as only a difference
of office, not yet as the difference of two distinct orders.
Bishops and elders were not contrasted as priests with
the laity, but all Christians were priests.
In the conflict, however, with Montanism and Gnosti-
cism, a further development appeared. From a simple
local office, the episcopacy became an ecclesiastical
CHAP. Ill ] ECCLESIASTICAL EPISCOPACY. 351
office. When, in the struggle against Gnosticism, it t
became important to insure the purity of the faith, the f
transmission of the rule of faith connected itself with i
the episcopal office. To the bishop was confided the L
task of preserving the purity of the doctrine handed
down. When in the struggle against Montanism, it
became important to re-organize the discipline of the
churches, it was the bishop again to whom the exercise
of discipline was assigned. He who was in fellowship
with the bishop was in fellowship with the local church
and with the Church at large. The bishop represented
the local church, and the bishops collectively the whole
Church. Then the clergy began to be more sharply
distinguished from the Laos^ the people, the laity. The
clergy alone were invested with the priestly character,
and on the basis of the name priest.^ the comparison with '
the Old Testament priesthood secured to them place \
and power. Thus we come to find a firm and orderly \
hierarchy, and the more the Church showed its need of (
strong leaders in its mighty conflicts within and without, /
the more did this hierarchy develop in power.
If now we for a moment compare the Church soon ]
after the death of the apostles, let us say about at the
time the first century gave place to the second, with the
Church at the middle of ihQ third century in the time
of Cyprian, bishop of Carthage, in Avhom for the first
time the episcopal office meets us in its full maturity as
an ecclesiastical office ; what a development has come
about I The Church has grown outwardly, the whole
Empire is occupied by it ; no longer do only artisans
and women confess Christ, but the churches can count
their members in all ranks. The Church is also
strengthened within, and has naturalized itself in the
!f
I
352 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book ii.
world. It is true, the first new radiance, or rather the
supernatural glory, which signalized the entrance of
the Church into the world, is disappearing : the Chris-
tian life is now calmer and more sober. The hope of
the speedy advent of Christ, which shone so brightly in
the early days, has now become dimmed. The Church
has reconciled itself to the destiny of a longer continu-
ance in this world, of a longer progress through history.
And the Church has armed for it also. A clear con-
sciousness of the facts on which the Church's being
rests has been attained. Its polity is firmly settled, the
great multitude of churches are one in faith, and form
a compact organization with distinct grades of of&ce.
The prospect has widened, there has awaked among
Christians a sympathy with all things great and beau-
tiful among men, including art and letters. Already
Christianity can show adherents who defend their faith
by their writings. Already men like Irenseus and Ori-
gen have drawn the first plans of a Christian theology;
already have appeared the beginnings of Christian art,
which like a young scion on an old stock, will bring
forth new blossoms. The Church is no longer a con-
venticle of recluses who shun the world, but appears in
the character of the Church of the people, able and
zealous in educating the masses by instruction and doc-
trine, and a discipline as wise as it is strict.
Such a Church must also view the world from a dif-
ferent point, and estimate its own mission differently
from the earlier Church. The heathen world is growing
old, and after the manner of the aged, it turns its gaze
backwards, for there is the golden age now lost and
gone. The present age is one of iron, and more and
more dawns upon Heathenism the consciousness that it
CHAP. III.] NEW ASPIRATIONS OF THE CHURCH. 353
is the waning power. Christianity is the growing might ;
with the energy of youth it looks the future in the face,
and there sees victory beckoning onward. And how
changed are now its ideas of that triumph ! The earlier
period had no thouglit of any victory but that which
Christ was to bring at his coming. The Roman Em-
pire and the heathen world were to endure till the
coming of the Lord. " The persecutions," says Justin
Martyr, " will continue till the Lord comes and sets all
free." ^^ Even with Tertullian the continuance of this
world is to coincide with that of the Roman Empire.
The moment of the collapse of the Roman Empire is
also for him the moment of Christ's return. Therefore
the Christians pray for the Empire, and give their aid
in prolonging its existence, since they thus pray and
work for a mora finis^ a delay of the end. Tertullian
thinks it foolish and absurd to expect that Roman
Emperors will ever be Christians.^^ But in the time
of Cyprian the hopes of the Christians are directed
towards another victory : they begin to grasp the idea
that Christianity will vanquish Heathenism from within,
and become the dominant religion in the Roman Em-
pire. Celsus had said to the Christians : " If all men
were to act like you . . . the affairs of the earth would
fall into the hands of the wildest and most lawless bar-
barians ; and then there would no longer remain among
men any of the glory of your religion or of the true
wisdom." Origen answers : " If all do as I do, then it
is evident that even the barbarians when they yield
obedience to the word of God will become most obedi-
ent to the law, and most humane. And every form of
worship will be destroyed except the religion of Christ,
which will alone prevail. And indeed it will one day
354 RE-ACTION IN CHRISTIANITY. [book n.
triumph, as its principles take possession of the minds
of men more and more every day." ^^
This is a presentiment, nay more, it is the certainty,
of victory. But in order to lay hold upon the victory
much blood must yet be shed, far more than has already
flowed. The severest stress of the conflict still lies
before the Church now confirmed in its strength. Re-
stored Heathenism first made the attempt to annihilate
Christianity by general persecutions. But it will be
seen that restored Heathenism is only a galvanized
corpse, unable to inspire the declining State with a new
life ; and then not by the favor or freak of an Emperor,
but by an inward necessit}^ the victory will fall to Chris-
tianity, which has remained faithful even under the
severest persecutions.
CHAPTER IV.
THE GENEEAIj PEESECUTIONS.
" We are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.'* — Eom. viii. 36.
I. FROM MARCUS AURELroS TO DECroS.
The fearful storm of persecution under Marcus
Aurelius was succeeded by a time of comparative quiet :
as if the Church was given a respite in which to build
up and strengthen itself in peace, before the coming of
the most terrible storms. Commodus, the degenerate
son of Marcus Aurelius, left the Christians unmolested.
Marcia, his favorite, even contrived to influence him in
their favor. She obtained from the Eoman bishop a list
of the Christians who were languishing in the mines of
Sardinia, and influenced Commodus to set them free.^
Commodus was more attached to his foreign gods, par-
ticularly to those of Egypt, than to the religion of the
Roman State, and if he promoted one, he might also
permit the existence of another foreign religion of the
East, namely, Christianity. Yet the laws enacted
hitherto remained, though, when Christians were ac-
cused, recourse was had to the earlier procedure under
356 FROM M. AURELIUS TO DECIUS. [book n.
Trajan. It created a stir when in Rome Apollonius, a
senator, was denounced as a Christian by his own slaves,
as is narrated. He made his defence before the Senate
itself, and was condemned to death by his peers. And
thus the highest corporate body in the Empire listened
to-the confession of Christ.^
Under Septimius Severus the indictments and execu-
tions became more numerous. The Emperor seems to
have been at first favorably disposed towards Christian-
ity. It is said that Proculus, a Christian slave, cured
him of a severe sickness by means of anointing with
oil.^ Perhaps it was the vigorous propagation of Chris-
tianity at this time which led to a change in his views.
The laws against Christianity as a prohibited religion
were renewed in the year A.D. 202, and embracing it
was forbidden with greater strictness than before.*
And so the judicial persecution of the Christians began
once more. Where the governors were unfavorable,
executions ensued, while other governors were less se-
vere or used the occasion only to enrich themselves by
extorting money from the Christians.^
The persecution raged for a time with great violence
in Egypt and Africa, in Egypt to such a degree that
the Christians believed that the end of the world was
near. In Alexandria Leonides, the father of that great
teacher of the Church, Origen, suffered death, and the
son, who was still young, was only with difficulty re-
strained by his mother from following his father. Next
we learn the names of a number of Origen's pupils who
likewise won the martyr-crown. Of women, too, many
died for their Lord, among them the maiden Pota-
misena, who was burned together with her mother
Marcella. Basilides, one of the lictors who conducted
CHAP. IV.] THE MARTYRS OF SCILLITA. 357
her to the place of execution, protected the maiden from
the insults and violence of the rabble. She thanked
him and promised him in return that he should shortly
attain the crown. That which he had seen and heard
became indeed to Basilides a call to Christ. He was
converted on the spot, openly confessed his faith, and
speedily followed in death those whom he had con-
ducted to execution.^
In the city of Scillita in Numidia a number of Chris-
tians, both men and women, were brought before the
tribunal of the Proconsul. He offered them mercy if
they would return to the worship of the gods and swear
by the Genius of the Emperor. One of them, Spera-
tus, replied : " I know of no Genius of the ruler of this
earth, but I serve my God who is in heaven, whom no
man hath seen nor can see.. I render what is due from
me, for I acknowledge the Emperor as my sovereign ;
but I can worship none but my Lord, the King of all
kings and Ruler of all nations." The Proconsul re-
manded them to prison, and the next day attempted
once more to bring them to terms. But they remained
firm in their confession, " We are Christians ! " And
when the Proconsul asked them : " Do you refuse all
mercy and pardon, then ? " one answered in the name of
all, " In an honorable contest there is no mercy. Do as
thou wilt. We will die joyfully for Christ our Lord."
At the place of execution they once more knelt in
prayer together, and then were beheaded.''
A few years later a number of martyrs suffered in
Carthage, amongst whom were two young women, Per-
petua and Felicitas, who were only catechumens, and
received baptism in the prison.^ Perpetua had recently
become a mother, but neither her love for her child,
358 FROM M. AURELIUS TO DECIUS. Tbook u.
which she took with her to the prison, nor the entrea-
ties of her aged father, could make her waver. When
her father urged her not to bring such disgrace upon
the family, she answered : '' Thou seest this vessel, a
pitcher. Can we call it other than what it is ? " And
when the father said " No ! " she continued, " So I too
cannot call myself other than what I am, a Christian."
In the prison, whose darkness at first frightened her,
since she had never experienced such a thing, she had
a vision. She saw a golden ladder stretching up to
heaven, on either side of it swords, spears, and knives,
and at its foot lay a dragon. Being commanded to
mount the ladder, she courageously set her foot on the
dragon's head, with the words, " He will not harm me
in the name of Jesus Christ," and mounted the ladder.
At the top she entered a large garden, and found there
the Good Shepherd, who gave her refreshment.
The prisoners now knew what awaited them, and
prepared for their farewell to this world. At the final
public hearing the Procurator made one more attempt
to persuade Perpetua to recant. In the presence of her
father, he appealed to her : " Spare thine aged father,
ofPer sacrifice for the welfare of the Emperor." Her
father himself assailed her, and reminded her of her
child : " Have pity on thy child ! " But Perpetua
quietly answered, " I cannot, I am a Christian." All
were condemned to fight with the wild beasts on the
birthday of the Csesar, Geta. On the evening before
the spectacle they held one last meal together, which
they celebrated as an Agape with prayer and hymns of
praise. As was frequently the case, they were even
in their death to play parts in a tragedy. It was in-
tended to clothe the men as priests of Saturn, and the
CHAP. IV.] PERPETUA AND FELICITAS. 359
women as priestesses of Ceres. But they refused. "We
have come here," they said, " of our own free will, that
we might not be deprived of our freedom. We have
forfeited our lives in order to be delivered from doing
such things." The heathen themselves recognized the
justice of the demand, and yielded. One of the mar-
tyrs, Saturus, found a speedy release, for a leopard
killed him with a single bite. Perpetua and Felicitas
were put into a net, and exposed to a wild cow. When
the hair and dress of Perpetua became disordered, she
carefully re-arranged them, mindful even then of wo-
manly modesty. When finally they were all to receive
the death-blow, Perpetua called to the soldier, Pudens :
" Be strong, and think of my faith, and let not all this
make thee waver, but strengthen thee." Then they
greeted one another with the kiss of peace, and were
slain with daggers. When the young gladiator ap-
proached who was to kill Perpetua, his hand trembled.
Then she laid her hand on his, and guided it to her
throat for the death-blow.
Under Caracalla the persecutions gradually ceased,
and the Church rejoiced in a perfect peace which the
sun-priest Elagabalus did not disturb. Alexander Seve-
rus and his mother Julia Mammsea even showed signs
,of favor towards the Church. In the private chapel
of the Emperor, among the statues of other great men,
stood that of Christ. He was fond of repeating the
words of Christ, and when in Rome the guild of the
cooks had a dispute with the Cliristian Church concern-
ing a building-site, he decided in favor of the Church,
for he held, "it was better that God should be wor-
shipped there in any way whatever, than that the space
should be given up to the cooks." ^ This was of course
B60 FROM M. AURELIUS TO DECIUS. [book ii.
nothing more than practical toleration, and indeed the
succeeding reign soon showed itself unfavorable to the
Christians.^" Maximinus the Thracian, a rude barba-
rian, who plundered even the heathen temples,^^ recom-
menced the persecution of the Christians, less from
religious or political reasons, than because they had
been favored by his predecessor. Eusebius says,^^ he
ordered that the officers of the Christian churches
should be executed. The order does not appear to
have been literally carried out, yet in many places the
Christians had to suffer. The Roman bishop Pontianus
was banished to Sardinia, and died there from ill treat-
ment in the mines. ^^ Origen had to remain concealed
for a time in the house of a Christian virgin named
Juliana.^* The presbyter Protoctetus of Csesarea and
his servant Ambrosius shared a worse fate. They were
hurried from prison to prison, and underwent many
sufferings, but escaped with life. Yet Ambrosius was
robbed of his property, showing that the avarice of the
judge played a part in the case. The worst of the
persecution was in Cappadocia, where the fanatical pas-
sions of the rabble participated in it, and a number
of Christians sealed their faith by death.^^ Philip the
Arabian is said to have showed the Christians so much
favor, that the legend arose that he himself was secretly
a Christian. ^^
With the exception of the attack made on the Chris-
tians by Maximinus the Thracian, it may be said that
fchey had thirty years of rest. The Emperors of this
period were thoroughly un-Roman, even in their reli-
gious lives. They were syncretists, and their syncretism,
wliether it appeared in a ruder form, as in Elagabalus,
or in a nobler, as in Alexander Severus, brought with
CHAP. IV.] REVIVAL OF THE ROMAN SPIRIT. 361
it all kinds of compromises, which, though Christianity
of course could not accept them, yet, for the first time,
put Roman Emperors into a really friendly relation to
the Christian Church. Naturally it was not an endur-
ing peace, but only a slackening of the conflict. As
soon as the ancient Roman spirit began to re-act against
this un-Roman state of affairs, there would necessarily
begin a sterner method of dealing with Christianity.
The rest was only the prelude to yet fiercer struggles.
They commenced with Decius, whose reign marked the
dawn of a period of re-action, ending only with Con-
stantino. The ancient Roman spirit once more arose
in its might, and attempted a restoration of the fallen
Empire. Closely connected with, indeed springing
from, this attempt, were the general persecutions of the
Christians which now began. In order to understand
this we need to recall the situation of the Empire.
The frenzy of despotism had brought the State to
the brink of ruin. The Empire was in imminent dan-
ger of destruction from the utter absence of all restraint.
Confusion the most complete prevailed everywhere.
In Rome itself, senate, people, and soldiery formed
opposing factions. Day after day regular battles were
fought in the streets, and, as a consequence, part of the
city was laid waste by fire. The state of things was
similar in the provinces. No respect was paid to the
laws, because no one felt an inward bond of union with
the law. Usurpers arose here and there, and attempted
to seize the throne, or were compelled by their followers
to make the attempt. Meanwhile the barbarians were
storming at the frontiers; in the North the German
tribes, in the South-east the Persians, were already
threatening to overwhelm the empire. The Franks
362 FROM M. AURELIUS TO DECIUS. [book n.
were pouring across the Pyrenees, the Alemanni wBre
at the gates of Milan, the Goths had destroyed the
celebrated Temple of Diana at Ephesus, the Persians
had advanced as far as Antioch in Syria. In this uni-
versal distress the genius of Rome arose once more
from the only place where it still dwelt, the army. A
series of Soldier-Emperors saved the Empire from almost
certain destruction. It was God's purpose that the
Empire should not fall into the hands of the Germans,
until it had become Christianized, and was thus capable
of instructing its conquerors in the Christian religion.
These Emperors, were, it is true, not Romans by birth :
they were provincials, for the most part Illyrians, but
the city oi Rome began at this time to lose its im-
portance as the metropolis. The centre was rotten,
while the circumference still preserved a comparatively
healthy life. These Emperors, brought up in the camps
of the legions where the ancient Roman courage, dis-
cipline, and virtue were still to be found, and trained
in the traditions of Rome, were indeed more truly
Romans than the inhabitants of the city. While Rome
was revelling, the armies had been guarding the frontier
by strenuous efforts, and in the uninterrupted succes-
sion of campaigns there grew up a race of able gene-
rals. They now took the control of things, and chose,
usually from among themselves, the bravest and ablest
men for the throne. These were men who had served
from the ranks up, without much education, but severe-
ly moral and strict in discipline, exactly the opposite
of those dissolute debauchees who had so often polluted
the imperial throne. They were soldiers through and
through, yet they almost all showed a strong tendency
to be idealists, one may even say fanatics. Brought up
CHAP. IV.] THE SOLDIER-EMPERORS. 363
amid war, perpetually in the camp, they yet longed for
peace. Their favorite expression was, that war was
only waged for the sake of peace ; their dream was, that
soon there would dawn an era of peace, in which sol-
diers would be no longer needed ; they even attempted,
in the person of Probus, one of the most powerful of
these Soldier-Emperors, to accustom their armies to the
arts of peace. Whenever a short respite between the
campaigns allowed, Probus would set his legions to
digging canals and planting vineyards. They sought
to realize the ideal of peace to which they aspired, by
means of a restoration of the ancient Roman order
of things. Roman manners and morals were to be
revived — that was now the solution of the problem.
Some of these Soldier-Emperors addressed the Senate
and the people of Rome as reverently as if they were
still the Senate and people of the time of the Republic ;
they spoke of the eternal Roma and her power just as
a fanatical Republican in the best days of the ancient
city might have done.
For the restoration of the Roman order of things,
however, the restoration of the religion of the Roman
State was of course essential. All these Emperors
(this too was a characteristic common to them) were
pious heathen ; more than that, they were excessively .
superstitious. In their broken, changeful lives, perpet-
ually surrounded by perils, they had learned to heed
omens and predictions. They ascribed the greatest
value to the favor of the gods, and, well knowing the
instability of a throne which is supported by power
only, they sought to attach their followers and to bind
them to themselves by all kinds of superstitions. It
was restored Heathenism, fanatical and demon-worship-
364 FROM M. AURELIUS TO DECIUS. [book n.
ping, which now came into power, and was represented
even by the Emperors.
When we bear this in mind it becomes easy to under-
stand why just these Emperors were persecutors of the
Christians, above all their predecessors. They had to
be : indeed there could be nothing more false, than to
imagine that these persecutions arose from mere arbi-
trary choice, or from cruelty and personal hostility.
They were rather the result of the entire political situ-
ation, and were a necessary product thereof. To the
schemes of restoration which ruled this period, there
was nothing so antagonistic as Christianity. If ancient
Rome was to arise in renewed glory, Christianity, which
utterly opposed the ancient Roman order of things, must
be put out of the way. But by this time the Church
had acquired such strength, that methods such as Tra-
jan had employed a century before were no longer ade-
quate. There could no longer be a hope, such as Tra-
jan had indulged, of subduing Christianity slowly and
gradually ; the only alternative was the recognition of
Christianity or its annihilation. The former was impos-
sible without entirely renouncing the whole project of
restoration ; so the latter was determined upon. And
thus the persecution assumed an entirely new character.
It was now no longer an outbreak of popular rage, to
which the officials yielded in some places, no longer a
judicial process against individuals expressly accused
according to the ordinary methods of Roman law, but
a general persecution, based on the deliberate policy of
the State, which affected all Christians alike, and had
for its express object the annihilation of the Church.
CHAP. IV.] PERSECUTION tTNDER DECIUS. 366
n. FROM DECroS TO GALLIENUS.
Decius was the first to order a general persecution.
His reason for so doing was certainly not a personal
one, his antagonism to Philip the Arabian, for instance,
whom he conquered, and who was favorable to the
Christians. The cause was rather that purpose of res-
toration which has been described, and which was
embodied in Decius. Great were the plans made by
Decius. Like a second Trajan (whose name he as-
sumed), he purposed to re-establish the ancient glory of
Rome. Ancient institutions were revived, the Senate
regained its honors, the office of Censor was renewed,
Rome was fortified once more and adorned with build-
ings. It was impossible that an Emperor with such
aims could behold unmoved a religion, illicit according
to Roman ideas, extending its sway, the ancient shrines
deserted and the temples standing empty. As a second
Trajan, he was bound, like the first, to undertake the
conflict with the religion which was the enemy of the
State. Soon after ascending the throne (A. D. 249), he
issued an edict in the year 250, that all Christians with-
out exception should be required to perform the rites of
the religion of the Roman State. If they refused they
were to be compelled thereto with threats and tortures.
In fulfilment of this edict the local magistrates in every
place fixed a term, before which the Christians were to
appear before them, and to sacrifice to the gods. Those
who left their native land before this term were not
further molested, but their property was confiscated,
and they were forbidden to return on pain of death.
Those who remained, and up to the fixed term had not
given proof that they had sacrificed, were summoned
366 FROM DECrUS TO GALLIENXrS. [book ii.
before a commission of investigation, composed of the
magistrates and five of the principal citizens. Then
they were dealt with, not as in the former judicial pro-
cess, with a view to their conviction and sentence, but
with the object of persuading them to recant. At first
they were only threatened and given a further respite.
If this did not succeed, recourse was had to tortures,
and if these failed of the desired result, the stubborn
recusants were thrown into prison, in order there to
shake their determination by continued tortures joined
to hunger and thirst. Capital punishment at first was
rare, and only resorted to against bishops; but many
were killed by the tortures or died in the prisons. The
persecution became gradually more stern. The endur-
ance of the Christians provoked greater severity. Be-
cause in some places the local magistrates made excep-
tions, and urged the matter with too little diligence in
the Emperor's view, he directed the prefects to inter-
fere personally, and where they seemed too merciful
they were replaced by others more strict.
Men of acute minds had foreboded the storm. Ori-
gen predicted its coming, and Cyprian foresaw it in a
vision.^^ He seemed to see a father standing between
his two sons. The one on the right sat in sorrow and
deep grief; the one on the left carried a net in readi-
ness to catch those who stood near. When Cyprian in
wonder asked who they were, the explanation was
given, that the one on the right (Christ) sorrowed
because his commands were not obeyed ; the one on the
left (the Devil) rejoiced because he would soon be per-
mitted by the Father to vent his rage on the people.
Thus Cyprian foresaw the persecution in the shape of
a distinct judgment on the laxity which had been
CHAP. IV.] APOSTASY OF THE WEAK. 367
allowed to enter the life of the Christians. But on the
majority of the Christians it came with an utter sud-
denness. Some churches had enjoyed uninterrupted
quiet for thirty years, and many Christians no doubt
believed that the peace was to be lasting. This made
the panic all the greater. In the times of tranquillity
some impure elements had found an entrance into the
Church, and even the best of the members were unac-
customed to conflict. So it is not to be wondered at,
that much weakness was brought to light. Many did
not wait for the fixed term to come. Such as held
public offices, and respectable citizens who feared for
their business, made haste to renounce Christianity by
offering sacrifices. " Before the battle," Cyprian com-
plains, " many were conquered, and, without having met
the enemy, were cut down ; they did not even seek to
gain the reputation of having sacrificed against their
will." ^^ It appeared as if some had only awaited this
opportunity to break loose from Christianity. When
the commission could not get through in a single day,
and remanded the rest to the next day, they entreated
to be allowed to present themselves, as if they could
not assure their safety quickly enough. Even children
were brought and made to offer incense with their little
hands. Others were persuaded by their relatives, or
induced by their heathen friends to go. Pale and
trembling they approached the altar as if they were
about, not to sacrifice, but to be sacrificed. The by-
standers mocked them, saying that they were too cow-
ardly either to sacrifice or to die. There were dread-
ful scenes. Some who had denied were suddenly seized
with horror, which rose to madness. A Christian
woman in Carthage, after she had pronounced the
368 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENUS. [book n.
word by which she renounced Christ, became dumb,
and could not utter another word. Another went
directly from the sacrifice to the bath, and when she
returned had become insane. The venality of the offi-
cials made it possible in many ways to evade the law.
For money they provided the Christians with a certifi-
cate that they had sacrificed, or, without coming and
having such certificate made out, they could obtain the
privilege of having their names inserted in the protocol
among the number of those who had complied with the
edict. They quieted their consciences by saying that
they had done nothing themselves which was a denial
of their faith. The Church did not allow itself to be
deceived by these practices, but declared with clear
decision that such a way of escaping persecution was a
denial of the faith.^^
Thus there was no lack of weakness, and the perse-
cution became a sifting which removed the chaff out of
the churches. But Christian heroism also was not
wanting. The church in Rome led all the rest in this.
First the bishop Fabianus suffered martyrdom.''^*' At
the risk of his life Cornelius succeeded him in the epis-
copate, and not long after in death too. He was first
banished, then executed. Lucius, who had the courage
to carry on the succession, likewise shortly went to
receive his crown. In the Catacombs may be seen to-
day the simple gravestones of the martyr-bishops near
together, each marked only with the name.^^ The bishop
Fabianus was accompanied in death by Moses, one of
the presbyters. Besides these the virgins Victoria,
Anatolia, Agatha, and a great multitude of other
martyrs, died under fearful tortures. In Alexandria
the number who were sacrificed was not less than in
CHAP. TV.] INCIDENTS OF THE PERSECUTION. 369
Rome.^^ Even before the regular process began, the
rabble attacked individual Christians. They tried to
compel an old man named Metras to speak blasphemous
words. When he refused he was stoned to death.
They brought a woman named Quinta into a temple,
and demanded that she should worship the idols.
When she remained firm they dragged her by the feet
through the city, and killed her. They broke the teeth
of ApoUonia, a virgin, because she would not repeat
the blasphemous words which were dictated to her, and
finally burnt her at the stake. After this the regular
process of persecution began, and many more suffered
death for their steadfastness. Especial mention is made
of a boy, Dioscurus, who, though only fifteen, by his
apt replies and his firmness under all tortures extorted
the admiration of even the Prefect himself, so that he
finally released him in order, as he said, that he might
come to a better state of mind. Even in the smaller
towns and villages of Egypt many were numbered
among the martyrs. In the Theba'id the Prefect had
a Christian husband and wife crucified side b}^ side.
They lived for days upon the cross, and encouraged one
another.^^ In Jerusalem the bishop Alexander, in An-
tioch the bishop Babylas, died under tortures endured
with steadfastness.^"^ In Toulouse the bishop Saturni-
nus was bound to a wild bull, and dragged to death.^^
Cyprian, the bishop of Carthage, had withdrawn to
a safe place at the beginning of the persecution. He
was blamed by some for this, but his subsequent mar-
tyrdom proved that no lack of courage was his rea-
son for hiding. From his place of exile he consoled
and encouraged the members of his church, and gave
directions for their conduct during the persecution.
370 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENUS. [book n.
Tlie alms for the poor, which were usually managed by
one person, were now to be divided among the presby-
ters and deacons, so that, if one of them were taken
prisoner, the others would still be able to carry on the
work, and, besides, the poor would be cared for all the
more easily. The presbyters were to be diligent in
their pastoral care of the prisoners in the dungeons,
and to carry them the holy communion, and yet to do
all with caution in order to give no provocation to the
heathen. The poor were to be helped with greater care
than usual, but they must be on their guard against
such as put themselves forward, and sought — as was
sometimes the case — to cover a disgraceful life by a
seeming martyrdom.^^ The Carthaginian church had
no lack of confessors and martyrs." Many of them lay
in the dungeons while the heathen attempted to bring
them to denial by means of hunger and thirst. Fifteen
of them are mentioned who died of starvation in the
prison. Others died by the pangs of the torture, and
yet others were executed. One of the members of the
church, Numidicus by name, was especially prominent.
He had inspired many with courage for martyrdom, and
had seen his own wife die at the stake. He was con-
demned to the same death, and left lying half burnt
and covered with stones. His daughter sought out her
father's body in order to bury it. Great was her joy at
finding signs of life still in him. In haste she carried
him home, and really succeeded by her careful nursing
in completely restoring him. Cyprian afterwards made
him a presbyter.^^
The most dreadful thing about this persecution was
that the heathen did not aim at the death of the Chris-
tians, but only at compelling them by means of torture
CHAP. IV.] TORMENTS OF THE CHRISTIANS. 371
to recant. " Tortures overtook them," thus Cyprian ^9
speaks of the persecution, "tortures wherein the tor-
turer ceases not, without escape of condemnation, with-
out the consolation of death; tortures which do not
dismiss them speedily to their crown, but rack them
until they overthrow their faith; except perhaps that
God in his mercy removed one here and there in the
midst of his torments, and so he attained his crown not
by the full ending of his torture, but by the suddenness
of death." They were not only thrown into prison,
laden with chains, their arms and legs stretched on the
rack; not only were the ordinary tortures employed,
the crushing of the fingers, the dislocation of the limbs,
the tearing of the flesh with nails and hooks, but the
most refined and novel tortures were invented. The
prisoners were exposed to the most intense heat, and
left to thirst for days ; they were burned with fire, with
charcoal and red-hot iron. We are told that some were
stripped, smeared all over with honey, and exposed to
the stings of the insects. In all this the fury of the
fanatical heathen rabble rose higher than ever before.
Great was their rejoicing when they had succeeded in
torturing a Christian until he finally stretched out his
hand to scatter the incense on the idol's altar ! How
they gloated over the torments of the poor victim !
The Christians were now outlaws. They were attacked
in their houses, robbed of whatever was worth taking,
and the remainder of their household goods was broken
or burned. No Christian dared to be seen in public.
In the streets they were insulted, stoned, and beaten, or
a mob collected, and tried to induce them to pronounce
blasphemous words.
Those were the times in which the Christians, beset
372 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENCJS. [book ii.
on every side, often betraj^ed and attacked in their
assemblies, fled to the deserts and the woods, or de-
scended to the dead in the Catacombs. There in little
assemblies they held their services, listened to the Word,
and partook of the sacrament by the light of the terra-
cotta lamps such as are often found there now. Those
who gathered there did not know but that a fate might
soon overtake them like that of those whose names
were called over at the Lord's Supper as confessors and
martyrs, or whose unadorned graves with their simple
inscriptions were all around them there. How solemn
and earnest such a service must have been, truly fitted
to strengthen their faith for a joyful confession ! Some
had fallen away, but those who remained faithful were
all the more closely united in the distress of the time.
How strongly did they support each other by prayer !
Times without number Cyprian exhorted the church to
prayer for the tempted and persecuted, and they in
turn from their prison asked the intercession of the
church. How willingly they served each other, though
often enough they had to pay for the privilege with
their lives I What honor was shown to the martyrs and
confessors ! — the Christians embraced them on their
way to the place of execution, and kissed their chains in
the prisons. They were given as honorable a burial as
was possible, and no heed was paid to the danger in-
curred in procuring this for them. With diligent care
their names and the story of their martyrdom were re-
corded for a memorial. And if perchance the persecu-
tion ceased for a while, and some returned from the
prisons or from exile, how jubilantly they were greeted !
The Christians hastened to meet them, crowded round
them, embraced them with heartfelt affection, and hung
on their necks with kisses.^^
CHAP. IV.] VARYING INTENSITY OF THE STORM. 373
Like a storm which lulls indeed for a while to return
again with redoubled fury, the persecution continued
for a decade. The endurance of the Christians wearied
the heathen, or the zeal of the Emperor was turned
into other channels by campaigns and revolts. Thus
there came times of tranquillity in which the Christians
could breathe once more, and collect their scattered
forces. And then the persecution would break out
anew, and with twofold zeal and new measures the
heathen would toil at the annihilation of the Church.
When Decius had fallen (A. D. 251), in the war
against the Goths, the change of rule brought a short
breathing-space ; but in the following year, when the
Empire was suffering from plagues of different kinds,
drought and famine, the absence of the Christians from
the great sacrifices instituted everywhere to appease
the gods, gave the impulse for new persecutions.^^ At
that time many Christians were punished by being sent
to the mines. This was an exceedingly hard lot, for
there the Christians were worse treated than galley-
slaves.
When Gallus was murdered by his own soldiers
another short pause ensued; but Valerian took up
again the interrupted work of persecution. He used
different tactics. The fearful bloodshed under Decius
had failed. Valerian hoped to attain the object with-
out shedding blood. To this end the Emperor gave
orders that the bishops be separated from their
churches, and prohibited all assemblies of the Chris-
tians, all gatherings for worship, and all visits to the
cemeteries where the Christians were wont to pray by
the graves of the martyrs.^^
These regulations soon proved without effect. The
374 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENUS, [book n.
bishops were banished ; for instance, Cyprian to Curu-
bis, Dionysius of Alexandria to Kephro : l5tit in their
banishment they maintained their connection with their
churches. From the places of their exile they still
guided their flocks by letters and by means of travelling
clergy. They only became dearer to their churches,
inwardly more united with them ; and the word of the
exile for the faith was more effectual than that of the
bishop present in person. In the places to which they
were banished, they gathered new churches about them,
and the seeds of the gospel were thus carried to some
places whither they had never come before.
So the Emperor advanced to severer measures. In
A. D. 258, he issued an edict ^^ which ordered that the
bishops, presbyters, and deacons should immediately be
slain with the sword; that senators and magistrates
were to lose their property, and if they still remained
Christians they were to be executed in like manner ;
that women of rank should be banished after their
property had been confiscated ; and that Christians in
the service of the imperial court should be put in chains,
and divided among the imperial estates to labor there.
Thus the bloody work began again. The shepherds
of the flock were particularly the objects against which
the full force of this persecution was directed, and a
large number of them sealed their faith with death.
Li Rome the bishop Sixtus suffered Aug. 6, A. D. 258.
He was arrested in the Catacombs while holding divine
service. After receiving his sentence he was conducted
by the executioner back again, and beheaded on the
spot where he had just been celebrating the Lord's
Supper. His episcopal chair was sprinkled with his
blood.^ On the way to death his deacon Laurentius
CHAP. IV.] DEATH OF CYPRIAN. 375
met him. " Whither goest thou, father, without thy
son ? whither, priest, without thy deacon ? " said Lau-
rentius. " Cease weeping, thou wilt soon follow me,"
replied the bishop. And on the fourth day after, the
10th of August, the deacon did follow him in death.
Laurentius is said to have been roasted on an iron
chair.
In Carthage, Cyprian received the martyr's crown.
Some of his principal friends wished to aid him in
escaping ; but, though he had previously thought it his
duty to his church to save himself, yet now he refused.
He only remained in hiding a short time in order not to
be taken to Utica, where the Proconsul was at that time
staying, because it was fitting that the shepherd should
meet his death before the eyes of his church. As soon
as the Proconsul returned to Carthage, Cyprian was
taken prisoner, and brought before him. An immense
crowd had collected in the praetorium. The hearing
was short. ''Thou art Thascius Cyprianus ? " — "I
am." — " Thou hast permitted thyself to be made an
official in a sacrilegious sect ? " — " Yes." — " The sacred
Emperors have commanded thee to sacrifice."' — " That
I will not do." — " Consider it well." — " Do what is
commanded thee ; in a cause so just no reflection is
needed." The Proconsul consulted his counsellors and
immediately pronounced the sentence : " Thascius Cyp-
rianus shall be executed with the sword." Cyprian
answered only : " Thanks be to God ! " and the sen-
tence was immediately executed. The bishop disrobed
himself, knelt, and prayed. With trembling hands the
executioner gave the fatal blow (Sept. 14, A. D. 258).
Cyprian was not the only martyr in Carthage. Beside
him several presbyters and deacons met their death.
376 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENUS. [book n.
When one of them, named Montanus, was being led to
execution, he tore the cloth with which his eyes were
to be bound, in two, and asked that one-half of it might
be kept for his friend and fellow-presbyter, Flavianus,
who would soon follow him. A few days afterwards
they bound the eyes of Flavianus with the half of the
cloth, and he too received the deadly stroke.
From Egypt, Spain, and other countries of the Em-
pire we have the names of a large number of martyrs,
for the most part bishops and presbyters. But the
churches were not spared. Their assemblies for wor-
ship were attacked, they were dispossessed of their
churches and cemeteries. In Rome the heathen sur-
prised a Christian congregation which was holding di-
vine service in one of the catacombs, and walled up
the entrance of it, so that the Christians perished
within. ^^ In Africa a multitude of Christians were
thrown into a lime-kiln, and burned.
As little was accomplished by this persecution as by
those which preceded it. In A. D. 260, Valerian was
taken prisoner in a campaign against the Persians ; and
with the close of his reign the persecution also ended.
His successor, Gallienus, restored to the Christians the
buildings and land, the cemeteries and holy places,
which had been taken from them. He even wrote
friendly letters to several of the bishops, and expressly
declared that it was his will that they should hence-
forth exercise their office in peace.^^ This was, of
course, not a regular legal recognition of Christianity.
It still remained a prohibited religion. Indeed, even
under Gallienus, Marinus, a captain, suffered martyr-
dom, though only as the result of an indictment brought
against him; and when Aurelian decided to order a
CHAP. IV.] FORTY YEARS OF PEACE. 377
new persecution, he had no need to revoke the so-called
edict of toleration of Gallienus. After Gallienus, as
before him, it was a penal offence to be a Christian,
only no one of the Emperors, in the unspeakable con-
fusion of these years, was sufficiently lord of the Em-
pire to think of persecuting the Christians. Thus the
Church enjoyed for forty years a tranquillity which in
general was uninterrupted.^''
And the Church needed rest. It was like a fortress
which had repulsed an enemy, who had tried every
means of attack. The enemy had not been able to
conquer it, but jet the walls and towers lay in ruins at
some points, and the appearance of the citadel showed
what it had suffered. That which had fallen must be
rebuilt, and the damages repaired. The Church did
not remain uninjured in the time of persecution, and
the suffering afterwards was often worse than the storm.
Such times arouse the powers of the Church, but they
also bring great dangers with them. The life of the
Church is forced out of its quiet grooves, and, with a
kind of one-sidedness, all energies are concentrated on
one point. Those who had heroically held out under
persecution, the confessors who had lain in prison, and
could still show the stripes and wounds of their tor-
turers, were now held exclusively in honor. They
became a peculiar kind of ecclesiastical aristocracy.
Earnestly and vehemently as the faithful teachers
warned them against pride, it was natural that some of
the highly venerated confessors should not withstand
the temptation to misuse their authority in the Church
by all kinds of arbitrary interference with the regular
order of things.^^ And this was the more dangerous,
because in many places this order had already suffered
378 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIEmJS. [book ii.
SO much from the pressure of the times, and because
the Church had now to face the exceedingly difficult
question of the treatment of those who had fallen
away in the persecution. There were many such, and
of different kinds : some who had voluntarily sacrificed,
others who had been driven to do so by torture, yet
others who had bought a certificate, or had procured
the insertion of their names in the lists. The confessors
directly interfered in this matter. They gave to many
of the lapsed, who askqd for them, certificates of peace,
on the ground of which these then demanded reception
into the Church, and in some places were re-admitted
to the Lord's Supper even without penitence or con-
fession.29 The confessors did not confine themselves to
giving certificates to particular individuals, but wrote
them quite indefinitely, in favor of a number of per-
sons.^^ They even meddled in the affairs of churches
to which they were strangers. Celerinus, a Roman,
asked of a Carthaginian confessor a certificate for his
two apostate sisters.^^ Some indeed came forward with
the assertion that they had been commissioned by this
or that martyr before his death to give reconciliation to
all who should ask for it.
In opposition to such dealings, some earnest Christians
insisted on the greatest strictness. It seemed to them
unjust, that the lapsed should so easily find acceptance,
and thus be put on an entire equality with those who
had remained steadfast. They did not believe in any
reception of the lapsed at all. Those who had denied
their Lord should be commended to God's grace, but
the Church ought not to be polluted by their reception.
In some places, these differences led not only to scan-
dalous scenes, but even to lasting schisms. The strict
CHAP. IV.] THE CHURCH AND THE LAPSED. 379
divided themselves from the lenient, and formed sepa-
rate churches, which claimed to be the only undefiled
ones.
In this difficult situation the Church strove to keep
the wholesome middle way. It was impossible to shut
her doors to all the lapsed. Nor could she view them
as those in whom she had no concern, but was earnestly
solicitous in their behalf, in order to lead them back to
a genuine repentance. Very wisely their re-admission
was postponed until the time after the persecution.
He who could not wait so long was free to reverse his
previous denial of being a Christian, and suffer for it ;
for the Church always regarded those who did this as
fully received back into fellowship. The matter could
not be exhaustively settled amid the disturbance of a
time of persecution. A most minute examination was
necessary (and this was another wise rule) in order
that each case might be decided according to its peculiar
features. It was plain that those who had yielded only
to the severest tortures deserved a different treatment
from those who had voluntarily sacrificed ; that those
who had really sacrificed stood on a different footing
from those who had believed, though by a sinful mis-
take, that they might shield themselves from persecu-
tion by buying a certificate of sacrifice. To each one
was assigned, according to the measure of his guilt, a
time of probation, during which he was to show the
genuineness of his repentance, and only at the expira-
tion of that time were they received, some sooner,
some later ; and those who had most grievously sinned,
only on their death-beds. Strictness and leniency
worked together to repair the injuries of the time of
persecution, and gradually to re-establish order in the
churches.
380 FROM DECIUS TO GALLIENUS. [book n.
Another comparison may be applied to the Church
after the persecution. It was like a field after a thun-
der-storm. Many a blade is broken, many a bough
torn ofP, the water has made deep furrows here and
there ; but the storm has also purified the air, and the
rain has fertilized the land, and now when all is quiet
again and the sun once more shines out, all things
are growing with greater freshness and gladness than
before. So in the Church there followed the persecu-
tion a time of new and stronger growth. Many ele-
ments of impurity had been eliminated, the word of
God had displayed its power, the testimony of the mar-
tyrs had penetrated many a heart. Everywhere the
number of believers was increasing. The Christians'
places of meeting had to be enlarged, or new ones built.
In the cities there were already large churches. There
were Christians everywhere, in town and country,
among the rich and the poor. Christian officers in the
army. Christian officials in the government as high as
the Prefects, Christian chamberlains and officials of the
court about the person of the Emperor. It must have
seemed to many as if the victory were already won, but
it was not. This was only a practical toleration, not as
yet one really sustained by law. Emperor and Empire
were still heathen. It had not yet been decided on
what basis the purpose of a restoration of the Empire,
which inspired all the able Emperors, should be real-
ized : whether on the basis of restored Heathenism and
the Neoplatonic philosophy, or on the basis of Chris-
tianity and God's word. In reality the cause of the
tranquillity was only this, that no one of the successive
Emperors was sufficiently master of the confusion pre-
vailing throughout the Empire, to be able to commence
CHAP. IV.] THE CHURCH GAINING STRENGTH. 381
the restoration. The first Emperor who really suc-
ceeded in carrying forward the plan which all had
followed, made the last attempt to annihilate Chris-
tianity.
Thus the time of tranquillity was indeed not yet the
victory longed for, but only an interval for recupera-
tion before the decisive battle.
BOOK THIRD.
THE VICTORY.
" This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.
1 John v. 4.
CHAPTER I,
THE DECISIVE BATTLE.
" Look up, and lift up your heads : for your redemption draweth nigh.**
— Luke xxi. 28.
I. THE WORK OF THE CHURCH AMONG THE HEATHEN.
The Church owed its victory not only to the stead-
fastness of the martyrs in times of persecution, but at
least as much to the faithful work of its members in
times of peace. For the victory was indeed no mere
outward triumph, but the defeat of Heathenism in its
inner principles. Hearts were won, consciences con-
vinced, the heathen were made Christian in disposition,
the views, life, conduct, and customs of the people were
changed from within. The whole of this great trans-
formation is of course hidden from our eyes by its
internal nature, to the degree that we are not now in a
position to follow it step by step, to discover its course
and to distinguish its stages in the different periods.
But we may gain a glimpse of the mighty work of
development in the Church, which was the preliminary
stage. And this is the place for such a glimpse, because
only thereby can we come to comprehend and appreciate
385
386 THE WORK AMONG THE HEATHEN. [book m.
that the victory of the Church m the last decisive battle
was more than a lucky stroke of fortune, and had
causes far deeper than any momentary combination of
favorable circumstances. For the sake of this prepara-
tion, God let the Church remain at rest for a consid-
erable period before the last and severest struggle. He
designed that the work among the heathen should have
so extended, that even the utmost efforts of its enemies
could no longer avail for its annihilation.
The early Christians made no special provisions for
drawing the heathen into the Church. The Christian
worship, so far as services of prayer and preaching were
concerned, was open to the heathen, and only the sepa-
rate celebration of the Lord's Supper, with which the
love-feast was connected, was closed to them. To
this, the Holy of Holies, only those who had received
baptism and joined the Church had access. Thus
Christian worship exerted a missionary influence upon
the heathen world beside that of missionary preaching
proper ; and when individuals had become interested
by such means, they sought further instruction from
one of the ofQcers or other principal members of the
Church. In this way they gained a more particular
knowledge of Christianity, and, for the most part, soon
entered into the actual membership of the Church by
baptism. This process was personal and private in
character. Christians who possessed peculiar gifts for
teaching probably gathered the proselytes around them,
but there was as yet no regular provision made for
catechumens.
In the times of persecution all this was changed.
The celebration of the Lord's Supper, which hitherto
had been separated from the preaching service and held
CHAP. I.] THE CATECHUMENATE. 387
in the evening, was joined to the other service in order
to avoid the appearance of transgressing the laws
against secret assemblies ; and the dangers of the time
soon obliged the Christians to exclude the heathen
altogether from their worshij). The Church was com-
pelled to withdraw into concealment in order to wor-
ship God in peace. Only thus could disturbances of
the service be avoided, and the ridicule and blasphemy
of any heathen, who might intrude into the meetings,
be escaped. And by the same change the occasion for
persecution was removed, so far as possible. In this
period Ave find also the first steps towards a regular
catechumenate. The position of the Christians neces-
sitated it, for there was need of caution in two direc-
tions in receiving those who sought admittance into
the Church. On the one hand, it could not be known
whether they were to be trusted, or some enemy and
traitor was effecting an entrance under the pretext of
wishing to become a Christian. And on the other hand
those who were about to join the Church now lacked
the preparation which had previously been supplied by
their attendance at the preaching services, since all
were now excluded from these except the actual mem-
bers of the Church. There was felt to be a need of
something to mediate the transition from a position
entirely outside of the Church to full membership in it
This was provided by the catechumens receiving a
course of instruction by this time fully arranged, with-
out participating in the worship of the Church ; and
then, after vows of renunciation, being admitted to the
church services so far as they consisted of preaching
and prayer. Thus the preaching supplemented the in-
struction already received, and so baptism followed
comparatively soon.
388 THE TYORK AMONG THE HEATHEN. [book m.
The time of rest after the persecution brought a new
danger with it, a danger in some respects more nearl}^
affecting the life of the Church than the persecution
itself. Great multitudes of the heathen crowded into
the Church. How easily might these multitudes bring
elements of impurity in with them ! The cessation of
the state of war had itself an enervating influence.
The Church could not venture to throw open its shrine
to all without probation. Yet, on the other hand, it
was a subject for rejoicing that the heathen were com-
ing in, and access must not be denied to any. With
the sagacity of a great teacher the Church united the
two. The Sacrament, that Holy of Holies, was with-
drawn into yet deeper retirement, and while the outer
doors were thrown open to all, there was, so to speak,
a long and narrow way which led from the outer court
to the inmost shrine. This way was the now developed
catechumenate. The preaching service was once more
thrown open to all, even the heathen ; but, before they
could receive the sacrament, a long, carefully arranged
and graded process of preparation must be passed
through. Let us take a survey of this path from the
first impulse towards Christianity to the full reception
into the Church.
When the desire to become a Christian inspired a
heathen, he made it known generally to some church-
member, and he in turn conducted him to the bishop or
to a presbyter or deacon, in order that his purpose might
be put to the test. From these he received some brief
and condensed instruction; and if he persisted in his
desire, he was received into the number of the catechu-
mens by a simple ceremony. This gave him the right,
and also the duty, of attending the preaching services.
CEIAP. I.] INSTRUCTION OF THE CATECHUMENS. 889
" Go to the temple of God, forsake the idols," was the
command. Hence those who belonged to this class
were called audientes, " the hearers." If he made use
of his opportunities of learning the truths of Christi-
anity from the preaching, he was, after a time, admitted
to the second class of the catechumens, orantes, "the
praying ones," or genuflectentes, " the kneelers." The
distinguishing mark of this class was, that they took
part in the Church prayers. While after the preaching
the audientes were dismissed with the unbelievers, the
orantes were permitted to join in the prayer for the
strength and growth of the Church, which was offered
to God every Sunday. Those who by the length of
their probation, and in other respects, seemed fit, were
required to declare expressly once more their desire for
baptism, and to hand in their names. Thereby they
entered the last stage of the catechumenate, and were
called competentes, " seekers," that is, real candidates for
baptism. And now began the regular course of in-
struction to the catechumens, which was given during
Lent, since Easter Sunday was the usual day for bap-
tism. They were now initiated into the real mysteries
of the Christian faith, particularly into the mystery of
the sacraments, which had hitherto been carefully hid-
den from them ; and at the close they were taught the
confession of faith, the real symholum^ the mark of
the Christian, and with it the Lord's Prayer, the prayer
of the children of God. Finally the reading of Psalm
xlii., "As the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so
panteth my soul after thee, O God," introduced the rite
of baptism.
Two things were aimed at and attained by the
Church through this long probation: on the one side,
390 THE WORK AMONG THE HEATHEN. [book hi.
for the sake of the Church, the most thorough test
which could be applied to those who sought to become
members ; and on the other side, no less important, an
entire freedom of choice on the part of the candidates.
Those who came were to come voluntarily, and to take
the step with a full consciousness of what it involved.
No persuasion was attempted, nor do we find a trace of
proselytizing, and all the arts which are wont to be
connected with it. The first declaration of his purpose,
by which a heathen acquired the privilege of listening
to the preaching, was only preliminary. It was open to
him to recede from his position, and as yet there were
no bonds uniting him to the Church from which he
could not liberate himself at any moment. Opportu-
nity was given him to become more intimately acquaint-
ed with the Church, its belief, and its life, and only
then, when he had advanced so far in knowledge as to
be fully conscious of what he was doing, was he allowed
to hand in his name and thus fix his choice. But,
although the candidate was thus left in perfect freedom,
yet he remained under the influence of the prayers and
the pastoral care of the Church, which in that day were
more prominent than the specific instruction.
The Church showed a wonderful sagacity in this
whole matter. Its mission to instruct the heathen was
fulfilled with great wisdom and prudence, and it was
owing to this good judgment that the times of tran-
quillity did not cause more injury than the seasons of
persecution, and that the friendship of the world did
not prove more disastrous than its enmity. Though
elements of impurity could not be wholly prevented
from finding their way into the Church, which thus, the
more it began to be the Church of the people, became
CHAP. I.] APOLOGIES OF THE THIRD CENTURY. 891
more and more like the field in which the wheat and the
tares grow together promiscuously, yet this much was
attained, that the accession of the masses did not de-
prive the Church of that measure of purity and power,
which was necessary for sustaining the severe and final
conflict.
Another part of the word of instruction undertaken
by the Church is to be found in the Apologetic literature
of the time. We have already noticed its beginnings.
A richer development was attained amid the struggles
of the third century. The Church was now the object
of literary attacks on the part of rhetoricians and
philosophers, and therefore was compelled to defend
itself in literature, as indeed it did. Several of the
greatest Apologists belong to this period; above all,
Origen and Tertullian. With quiet superiority and
vast learning Origen refutes the slanders of the heathen,
lays open the emptiness of Heathenism, and yet every-
where seeks to gain points of connection with Chris-
tianity. With incisive keenness and biting wit, Ter-
tullian supports the cause of the Christians, often in
the style of an advocate, not shunning even sophistry,
but ever burning with zeal and full of sturdy convic-
tion. And though he, as no other, has laid bare the
weakness of Heathenism, and held it up to mockery
and scorn, yet it was he who wrote that exquisite little
treatise to prove " The Soul by Nature Christian," ^ and
showed the heathen that they were all created for Chris-
tianity, and that in every one of them there was im-
planted, even if unconsciously, an inclination towards
Christ, a longing for Him.
The earlier Apologists had asked only toleration,
only justice for Christians as well as other men, but
392 THE WORK AMONG THE HEATHEN. [book hi.
the Apologists of this period go a step further: they
demand freedom. Religious freedom, that mighty
word, was now first openly pronounced. Strongly does
Origen emphasize the fact that belief is a matter of
entire freedom. "Jesus Christ," he says, "did not wish
to win men like a despot, who draws them into the
revolt which he leads, nor like a robber, who puts arms
into the hands of his comrades, nor like a rich man,
who buys adherents by his liberality, nor by any blama-
ble means, but by means of his wisdom, which was so
fitted to unite to God in fear and holiness those who
yield themselves to his laws." '-^ " It is irreligious to use
compulsion in religion," cries Tertullian. " Man has a
right, and it belongs to the natural power of every
individual, to worship what he thinks best; and one
man's religion does not profit or injure another."
" Allow one," he demands, " to worship God, another
Jupiter. Let one raise his suppliant hands to heaven,
another to the altar of Fides. Let one in his prayer (if
ye think this of us) tell the clouds, another the orna-
ments of the ceiling : let one devote his own life to his
God, another that of a goat. For beware that you do not
give a further ground for the charge of irreligion, by
taking away religious liberty and prohibiting a choice of
deity, so that I may not worship whom I will, but am
constrained to worship whom I will not. No one, not
even a mortal, would desire to be worshipped by any
against their will. . . . Every province also, and state,
hath its own god. . . . But we alone are forbidden
to have a religion of our own."^ " Religious liberty! "
Tertullian created for the new idea this new name, which
here for the first time appears. In later days the Church
itself threw away this jewel, and put compulsion again
CHAP. I.] RELIGIOUS LIBERTY.
into freedom's place ; it even proceeded so far as to van-
quish heretics by shedding their blood ; but it cannot
be denied that the Church has the honor of emphasizing,
in the midst of a heathen world which had no knowl-
edge of true religious liberty, the fact that it did not
intend to owe its victory to any outward means, but
simply and solely to the might of truth. To win this
victory the Church must of course again enter the fur-
nace of persecution. Not all the powers of Heathenism
had been exhausted, not all its resources expended. An
increasing severity of persecution was still possible,
and this too was to spend itself before the dawn of
victory.
II. THE RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE.
When our Lord predicted the persecutions to his
disciples, he represented them as a necessity. " Ye
shall be hated of all men for my sake," said he (Matt.
X. 22), and in John xv. 19 he disclosed the ultimate
cause of that hatred: "If ye were of the world, the
world would love his own ; but because ye are not of
the world, but I have chosen you out of the world,
therefore the world hateth you." And so the persecu-
tion increased by an inward necessity until the final
outbreak under Diocletian brought its culmination
and its end. This gradual growth is clearly marked.
Under Nero a general blind hatred raged against the
Christians without even knowing them. From the
time of Trajan this hatred clothed itself in a legal
form : Non licet vos esse ! " Ye have no right to ex-
ist ! " was the expression of it. With Decius the per-
secution became a political principle, and it belonged
to the policy of the Emperors who purposed the re-
394 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book m.
vival of ancient Rome, to destroy the Church. But,
while there the political motives outweighed the re-
ligious, with Diocletian the latter preponderated. It
was the heathen priests and philosophers who urged
him to a persecution which as a statesman he would
fain have avoided, and it was the superstitious nature
of the Emperor which gave the party of persecution a
foothold. Heathen fanaticism here nakedly and openly
appeared as the antagonist of Christianity, and the
word of Christ in characterizing the supreme climax
of persecution: "Whosoever killeth you will think
that he doeth God service : " was now fulfilled among
the heathen, as it had been formerly among the Jews.
Hence this persecution was the most cruel of all. But
in it Heathenism spent all its strength, and then col-
lapsed. It had no further powers to summon against
Christianity, and so the latter, after enduring all, re-
mained victor on the field, and speedily took the place
of Heathenism as the religion of the State.
It has already been hinted that I do not find the per-
secution under Diocletian so enigmatical and incompre-
hensible as some seem recently to have found it. They
have even thought it necessary to have recourse to all
kinds of suppositions in order to solve this so-called
riddle.* The Christians are supposed to have attempted
revolt, to have cherished the plan of capturing the
throne, and are thus themselves made to bear the blame
of the persecution. Now there is no kind of support
for such hypotheses in the liistorical sources, and also
no need of them. It is only necessary to follow the
development of history, and to recall the situation of
Diocletian, and not only does the enigma disappear, but
it even becomes clear that the policy which Diocletian
CHAP. I.] DIOCLETIAN'S GOVERNMENT. 395
pursued would, necessarily and against his own will,
lead to the persecution of the Christians.
A time of unspeakable confusion immediately suc-
ceeded the capture of Valerian by the Persians. The
perpetually changing plurality of generals (the so-called
Thirty Tyrants) did not permit the Empire to settle
down into peace and harmony. Time proved that the;
attempt to revive the ancient Roman spirit, and tot
restore the Empire on the old basis of the Koman gov-
ernment with its Senate, consuls, and censors, was a
failure. The aspiration after the Roman ideal, which
inspired the, in some respects, able Emperors, showed
itself too weak for the difficult task, and from the time
when Diocletian, by the choice of the generals, as-
cended the throne in A. D. 284, we are conscious of
having entered quite a different atmosphere.
Diocletian's predecessors — those of them who had
sought to restore the Roman Empire — had turned their
gaze back, and had endeavored to assist the fallen
Empire by means of the Senate, and the office of censor,
by the revival of the ancient Roman spirit. Diocletian '
turned his thoughts forward to something wholly new. i
Indeed the Empire, still called Roman, was no longer
Roman, and it was more than mockery when Galerius
asserted in his blunt way that the Empire ought to be
called no longer Roman, but Dacian.^ The army had
ceased to be Roman ; it was a motley mixture of all
nations under heaven. Probus had in one day received
sixteen thousand Germans into the Roman army.^
Goths and Persians fought under the Roman eagles.
Rome itself was now only nominally the capital and
the centre of government. This was really where the
Emperor had his camp. An Emperor now rarely lived
396 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book hi.
any length of time in Rome. Aurelian was an excep-
tion. And he could not feel at home in the imperial
palaces, whose walls reeked with so much blood. He
occupied a simple villa, and there he might be seen
practising gymnastics and exercising his horses in the
court-yard. This was still in the ancient Roman style.
With Diocletian, Rome entirely ceased to be the impe-
rial residence. The Emperor lived in the East, in
Nicomedia, where he had a magnificent palace, and was
surrounded by court officials of many different grades.
He assumed the title of Bominus, Lord, which no
Emperor hitherto had borne. He rarely appeared in
public, and then only in resplendent Oriental costume.
A painfully complicated court etiquette barred access
from without. It was difficult to approach his pres-
ence, and possible only amid endless formalities. All
this was not personal vanity ; but Diocletian knew the
power exercised by ceremony, and how necessary it was
to surround the imperial throne with this dignity, after
its authority had suffered from so many insurrections
and rebellions, and by the buying and selling of the
crown. But this was of course no longer Roman, but
already the beginning of what was afterwards called the
Byzantine style.
Diocletian also threw aside the ancient forms of gov-
ernment, like useless ballast, and replaced them with
new ones of his own creation. The greatest danger to
the Empire lay in the fact that, in the absence of a
ruling dynasty, ambitious men were perpetually aspiring
to the crown, and one usurper deposed another. Dio-
cletian understood this, but also realized that it was
not possible to establish a dynasty. He therefore
sought other means of meeting this danger. He asso-
CHAP. 1.] DIOCLETIAN'S ADMINISTRATION. 397
ciated co-regents with himself, and raised this arrange-
ment to the rank of a settled institution. There were
now to be always two Augusti and two Ccesars simul-
taneously, who, without dividing the Empire itself,
shared the labor of ruling it, while one of the Augusti
had the superintendence of the whole as supreme Em-
peror. This indeed reduced considerably the danger
of rebellion. A single emperor was too much exposed.
But now, if a rebellion arose against one of the princes,
the others were there to rescue him, and even a usurper
who was at first successful stood little chance of attain-
ing the throne. Another still more important advan-
tage was, that this arrangement opened to ambition
and ability the possibility of reaching the throne without
usurpation. For the choice of the Ocesars was to be
made only with reference to ability, apart from all
considerations of relationship, and those chosen were
adopted by the Emperors into an artificial filial relation.
Finally, it was, as it appears, from the beginning, in-
tended, that the reign of each one should not exceed
a fixed time, twenty years. At the expiration of this
time the Emperors were to retire to private life, and
give place to the Ccesars^ to whose office new Ccesars
were then to be elected. Thereby Diocletian hoped to
secure two things : first, that, as the situation of the
Empire really demanded, only men at the zenith of their
powers would bear rule ; and, second, that a premature
usurpation of the throne on the part of the Caesars
would be prevented, since they knew beforehand that
time would bring them to the imperial office.
This organization of Diocletian was a strange con-
struction, the like of which would be hard to find any-
where in history, — a monarchy, but without a dynasty,
398 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book m.
its place being supplied by choice and adoption; an
absolute and unlimited despotism, not for life, but
restricted to a definite time; four rulers, and yet no
partition of the Empire, but indeed a strict guarantee
for its unity, since two of the four were subordinate
to the others, as one of these was to his fellow. But
every thing clearly depended on the preservation of this
subordination by the voluntary obedience of the Caesars
to the Emperors, and of all to the supreme Emperor.
Without this subordination and obedience the unity
of Empire aimed at must fall to pieces. By what
means, then, did Diocletian hope to attain and insure
this subordination, and with it harmony among the
rulers ? This question leads to the religious aspect of
the system, and thus to its first foundation,
j Diocletian was a genuine champion of restored Hea-
I thenism. His whole life was interwoven with credulity
I and superstition. Even his accession to the throne was
\ connected therewith. A Druid priestess had predicted
[ to him, years before, that he would become Emperor.
Diocletian was the son of a Dalmatian slave, and
served in the army from the ranks upward. At the
time when he was a subaltern in the camp at Lutetia,
a Druid priestess mockingly laughed at him for his
stinginess. " I will be more liberal when I am Empe-
ror," he replied, also in jest. Then the woman re-
sponded, raising her voice with a solemn tone, " Jest
not: thou shalt be Emperor after thou hast killed the
wild boar." ^ Many years went by, and the former sub-
altern, who in the mean time had been passing from one
military rank to another, had killed many a wild boar
in hunting. He could not yet have met with the right
one, but the prophecy of the Druidess was never for-
CHAP. I.] DIOCLETIAN'S SUPERSTITION. 399
gotten. After the death of the Emperor Numerianus,
Aper, the Prefect of the guard, was summoned before
a court-martial on the charge of having killed him.
Diocletian was one of the generals who assembled to
hold the trial ; and, directly Aper was brought before
them, Diocletian rushed at him, and cut him down.
He had found the right wild boar {Afer means wild
hoar)^ and he was chosen Emperor immediately after-
wards. Having thus come to the throne, Diocletian, as
Emperor, was perpetually involved in heathen supersti-
tion. He was "ever devoted to the sacred customs,"
" a seeker after the things of the future." ^ He sought
omens and oracles for every important political move.
The haruspices had the freedom of the palace; every
day the entrails of the sacrifices were inspected ; light-
ning and dreams aroused the Emperor to the greatest
excitement.^ By such signs he chose his fellow-rulers,
and then regarded them as persons designated to him
by the gods. He strove to attach them to himself by
religious bonds through sacrifices and consecration.
The imperial government was in every point delibe-
rately connected with the gods and their sway. Diocle-
tian regarded himself as standing specially under the
influence of divine Providence. He gave himself the
epithet Jovius, and called his co-regent Maximian,
Herculius. Jupiter was in a peculiar sense his patron.
By Jupiter he believed his imperial power was be-
stowed, and to the hands of that god he confided it,
when he abdicated the throne. ^^ In his palace at
Salona, the temple of Jupiter towered above all the
rest, and his imperial mantle was the mantle of Zeus
himself.^^ The Emperors were to hold the position of
representatives of the gods, executing their will, and
400 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book m.
also to be regarded as armed with the power of the gods
and supported by them. Thus Diocletian, who was well
aware that only religion can control the conscience,
hoped to establish a bond of conscience between rulers
and subjects, to create an obedience to authority for
conscience' sake, and thus gain the true and firm
foundation for his dominion.
But here we come upon the weak point of the
system, which in other respects was undeniably planned
and followed out with great political wisdom. A dan-
gerous contradiction lurked in it. On the one hand
Diocletian had thrown aside the ancient Roman order
of things as mere ballast, on the other he strove to
retain a portion of that ancient order, the old religion,
and even to make it the foundation of the whole struc-
ture. But was religion at all exempt from the general
ruin ? was it the only healthy part of the life of that
former period, while all else was sickly? On the
contrary, religion too was in a dying condition, and
that condition was in a sense the ultimate cause of
the ruin of the whole. Could it now be made the
foundation of the new structure ? It is true the priests
and the Neoplatonist philosophers must have said a
great deal to Diocletian about a restoration of the
ancient religion ; but the error of this statesman, in
other respects so acute, lay in his mistaking the restored
Heathenism of his fanatical priests and Neoplatonists
for a religion endowed with new life, and in his plan-
ning to make it the foundation of his new structure.
For indeed it was only a spectre restored to the
appearance of life, and, being itself doomed to in-
evitable death, would necessarily carry the whole skil-
fully planned system of the Emperor to destruction
CHAP. I.] DIOCLETIAN FORCED TO PERSECUTE. 401
with it, until finally Constantine repaired the mistake,
and in a sense brought Diocletian's work to perfection.
He abandoned the last relic of the ancient Roman
State, which Diocletian had preserved, namely its reli-
gion, and gave the new Empire, which began politically
with Diocletian, a new religious foundation, — Chris-
tianity.
This was a position in which Diocletian would be
driven to persecute the Christians, whether he would
or not. Was it possible really to carry out his plan
so long as Christianity and the Church existed ? This
is a question which Diocletian seems not to have con-
sidered at all in the beginning, but which was not
thereby eliminated, and which would necessarily come
up in a most unavoidable form, when the realization of
the Emperor's schemes had made some progress. Their
aim was to insure the unity of the Empire. But the
Christians were an element which it was utterly impos-
sible to incorporate into this Empire as Diocletian
planned it, and which threatened to divide its unity
like a wedge perpetually growing larger and pene-
trating deeper. Restored Heathenism was to be the
cement which should hold the Empire together, but
this restored Heathenism could attain no strength so
long as Christianity lived.
It is narrated ^^ that one day a solemn sacrifice was
to be offered in the Emperor's presence, in order to
investigate the future by inspecting the entrails. The
officials of the court were standing round about, and
among them some Christians. When the sacrifice was
offered, these last crossed themselves as they were
wont to do, in order thereby to show that they did not
take part in the worship of idols. But to the terror of
402 RESTORATION. OF THE E^IPIRE. [book hi.
Tagis, the chief priest, the hoped-for signs did not show
themselves in the entrails of the sacrifice. He ordered
the repetition of the offering, and when the signs again
were wanting, he cried : " The gods refuse to appear at
our sacrifice, because profane men are present, and
hinder the revelation, by means of the sign which the
gods hate." This is said to have determined Diocletian
to persecute the Christians. Whether this story be
true, or not, in any case it shows with the greatest
accuracy the condition of affairs. And indeed the
truth was, as Tagis stated ; the cross lay like a spell
upon Heathenism.
It is true that the Christians were still greatly in the
minority. It is generally assumed that they formed
about one-twelfth of the whole population in the East,
and in the West about one-fifteenth. Even this is
perhaps too high an estimate. But there were two
things which gave a great importance to this minority.
First, that no single religion of the much divided Hea-
thenism had so many adherents as the Christian. Over
against the scattered forces of Heathenism, the Chris-
tians formed a close phalanx ; the Church was a compact
and strongly framed organization. Second, the Chris-
tians were massed in the towns, while the rural popula-
tion was almost exclusively devoted to Heathenism.
There existed in Antioch, for instance, a Christian
church of fifty thousand souls. Finally, the fact of
chief importance was that they were already spiritual-
ly the predominant power. They possessed the word of
the living God, the forces of a new life ; and although
the rapid growth of the churches had permitted some
elements of impurity to force their way in, yet how
great was the contrast between these churches with
CHAP. I.] INFLUENCE OF CHRISTIANITY. 403
their assurance of faith, their ardor of love, their graces
of Christian virtue, their strict and earnest morality,
and the heathen world in its darkness, superstition, and
hopeless ruin ! It was impossible for the heathen to
ignore the impression conveyed by the testimony thus
given. The certainty of belief in their own gods had
received a mortal blow from the proclamation of the
true God, and a renewal of the strength of Heathenism
was not possible so long as this spell of Christianity
still rested upon it.
Diocletian does not seem to have comprehended this
clearly, at least in the beginning. He tolerated the
Christians, not only in the army and in the administra-
tion, but was himself surrounded by Christians who
filled high positions at the court. To them, as those
whom he had found the most faithful, he specially con-
fided his personal safety.^^ And the new faith had
penetrated his own household, even his own family.
His wife Prisca, and his daughter Valeria, the unfortu-
nate wife of Galerius, stood at least in an intimate
relation to the Church.^* But there was at the court a
party which saw the truth clearly enough, and worked
with entire consistency for their object, the annihilation
of Christianity. This party was chiefly composed of
the heathen priests, who frequented the imperial palace.
They fought for their influential position. If Diocle-
tian's system of government could be permanently
established, their supremacy also was assured ; for, if
the decision for every imperial act was determined
according to omens and oracles, then the power lay in
truth in the hands of those who interpreted the omens,
and imparted the oracles. Besides the priests, there
were distinguished statesmen, men of learning, and
404 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book m
philosophers belonging to this party. Neoplatonism
was at this time the prevalent philosophy ; and while
with Plotinus the antagonism to Christianity was for
the most part unexpressed, yet in his successors an
irreconcilable hostility plainly appears. They would
allow the Christians to worship the supreme God, but
only on the condition that they also worshipped the
subordinate gods. It could be only stubbornness and
self-will which hindered their doing so, and this obsti-
nacy must be broken down. It was pretended that this
would be really doing nothing but bringing Christianity
back to its original purity. For the Christianity of
Christ, the Neoplatonists asserted, was quite a different
thing from that of the time then present. Christ did
not give himself out for a God, but appeared only in
the character of a wise teacher, and without showing
any opposition to the religions of the nations. It was
the apostles, who first made him a God. If the religions
of the heathen nations were reformed according to Neo-
platonic ideas, and Christianity brought back to its
original state, then there would really exist no more
antagonism between the two. In harmonious unity all
the nations of the Empire would worship the one
supreme God, and subordinate to him the national
gods. The unity of belief, so necessary for the unity
of the State, was easily to be established in this way.
It was only necessary to take the heads of the Church
seriously in hand : the multitude, which was only led
astray, would yield, and the majority of them would
pass over peacefully into the Neoplatonic State-Church.
Hierocles, Prefect of Bithynia, was conspicuous in ad-
vocating these views at the imperial court ; and he also
upheld them in literature by writing a "Truth-loving
CHAP. 1.] GALERIUS AND HIS PARTY. 405
Discourse " to the Christians, which sought to win
them, apparently in the interest of peace, but bloody-
persecution loomed up in the background.^^ If they
did not hearken to such words of peace, then there
would be the better ground for denouncing them to the
Emperor as stubborn disturbers of the peace.
This party, which had long been secretly at work,
found a head in the Ccesar Galerius. This man had
risen from a shepherd's crook to a sceptre by his mili-
tary talents; but his was an uncultivated nature,
brought up in the blindness of heathen superstition,
and he lacked the keen political insight for which
Diocletian was distino^uished. That which cannot be
said of Diocletian may be predicated of Galerius in the
highest degree, — he was a fanatic for Heathenism.
The party at first strove in vain to move the Em-
peror to another persecution of the Christians ; Diocle-
tian was too well aware of the power of the Christians,
he saw too clearly the danger of such a step to the
system he had created. To those who urged forcible
measures, he recalled the fact that already a number
of unsuccessful attempts had been made to crush the
Church, and thus so much blood had been uselessly
shed. Now too, nothing would be accomplished except
to set the Empire in confusion and uproar.^® Yet Gale-
rius succeeded in carrying through the purification of
the army as a preliminary measure. In A. D. 295 the
order was given that all the soldiers should take part in
the sacrifices. Many preferred to part with their mili-
tary rank; men left the higher as well as the lower
grades of the service, in order to remain faithful to
their faith. Even in this case, there were some condem-
nations and executions. In Tangiers, Marcellus, a cen-
406 RESTORATION OF THE EMPIRE. [book hi.
turion, was condemned to death, because, when the
order was issued to sacrifice, he threw down his belt
and staff, the insignia of his military rank, and ex-
claimed : " From this moment I cease to serve your
generals. I scorn to worship your gods of wood and
stone, which are only dumb idols. If military service
brings with it the obligation to sacrifice to the gods and
to the Emperor, I throw down my belt and staff, I
desert the standards, and cease to be a soldier." ^^
For a long time Diocletian would not be persuaded
to take any further steps. But the heathen party urged
him unceasingly, and the consistency of the system was
'on their side. It is certain that Diocletian would never
have become a persecutor of the Christians of his own
motion, and without being incited to it by Galerius ; but
Galerius would never have succeeded in bringing him
to that point, if the political system and the religious
views of Diocletian had not supplied arguments for his
purpose. ^^ The Emperor was already growing old:
should his life-work remain unfinished ? Yet unfinished
it must remain, so long as the j)ower of Christianity
remained unbroken. The time approached at which
Diocletian had determined to abdicate : would not that
moment prove perilous to the whole system which he
had created, if it were not firmly settled on the religious
foundation, which, as we have seen, was so important?
And who was to succeed him ? This very Csesar, Gale-
rius, the fanatical foe of the Christians, would then be
raised to the rank of Augustus, and he was destined to
be the supreme Emperor. Galerius also did not urge
on the persecution simply from personal hatred. He
intended to establish and inaugurate his imperial rule
with the great achievement, the destruction of the
CHAP. I.] SECRET COUNCIL AT NICOMEDIA. 407
Christian Cliiircli. Then he would be the restorer of
the Empire, and his power would stand securely.
m. THE PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN.
Galerius spent the winter of A. D. 302-3 in Nicome-
dia. Diocletian was becoming sickly, his powers were
failing. There was noticeable in him a certain lack of
decision, which had never before been one of his char-
acteristics. Now or never was the moment for the
heathen party to carry through their plans. Without
any stir, in secret assemblies whose object no one sus-
pected, they worked on the Emperor. He yielded so
far as to permit the matter to be submitted to a council
of the higher officers and members of the administra-
tion. By this move the heathen party had the game in
their own hands. In the council next to Galerius
(whose mother, Romula, a fanatical heathen, stood be-
hind him to incite and urge him on), sat Hierocles the
governor of Bithynia, the chief of the Neoplatonists, a
religious zealot, who believed that he would do his god
service, if he brought those stubborn disturbers of the
peace, the Christians, to reason by force.^^ Diocletian
became more and more wavering and undecided. He
could not hold his own against the headlong fanaticism
of Galerius, allied with the dexterous skill of Hierocles.
He decided to seek advice from the gods, instead of
men. There could be no doubt, what counsel they
would impart. An oracle of the Milesian Apollo gave
the decisive word. The Emperor determined to follow
it ; but he insisted on one condition, no blood must be
shed.-*^ Of course the heathen party were not disturbed
by this condition. It would be entirely unnecessary,
they said, to shed blood. As soon as the Christians
408 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book m.
were seriously taken in hand, the Church, which owed
its growth only to laxity, would cease to exist. The
Christians would not be willing to become martyrs,
but would come over in a body. The heathen were
well aware of what they were doing. If they could
only bring the Emperor to make a beginning, he would
have to continue, whether he would or not ; and they
would not need to urge him, since the obstinacy of the
Christians would do that for them. Thus the ominous
decision was made. At one of the principal festivals of
the heathen, the Terminalia, which was celebrated on
the 23d of February, the floodgates of the last and
most terrible persecution were to be opened.
Early in the morning, when it was only half light,
the Prefect of the guard, with a detachment of soldiers,
marched up to the large and beautiful church in the
city of the imperial residence. The doors were beaten
in, all the sacred books discovered were burned, the
church gutted and razed to the ground. On the city
walls an imperial edict might be read : that all Chris-
tian churches were to be torn down, and all sacred books
burned. The Christians were entirely prohibited from
coming together; if they did not abjure Christianity,
the men of rank among them were to be degraded and
deprived of all rights (^infames)^ all others were to be
reduced to slavery .^^ The purpose of this edict was
plainly to cut off Christianity from the sources of its
life. For this reason provision was made for prevent-
ing worship b}^ destroying the churches and depriving
the Christians of the Scriptures. Thus they hoped to
crush the Church without shedding blood; for the
Emperor did not wish any blood shed. Yet it was
soon to come to that. A Christian of high rank ven-
CHiP. I.] BLOODSHED INEVITABLE. 409
tured, not with a pure zeal, it must be confessed, to
tear down the edict with the scornful remark that it
seemed to proclaim some more of the Emperor's victo-
ries over the Sarmatians. He was cruelly tortured and
executed.'^^ The heathen party made a most skilful use
of circumstances, if we are not to attribute much
graver blame to them. In the eastern provinces there
broke out several insurrections insignificant in them-
selves ; but they were expanded into dangerous rebel-
lions, and the Emperor, already full of anxiety, was
made to believe that the Orient was in flames, and that
the Christians had stirred up the disturbances. On two
occasions near together, fires broke out in the imperial
palace at Nicomedia. It is impossible to say who set
them. The Christians said Galerius had them kindled
in order to ascribe the guilt to the Christians. At all
events, this last came about. The Emperor was urged
on by such means. The Empire was represented as
endangered ; terrible pictures were painted of a con-
spiracy among the Christians, which was said to have
accomplices in his own palace, and to be already threat-
ening his life. The Emperor's anger flamed up. He
ordered his whole household to present themselves
before him, and to clear themselves from the suspicion
resting upon them by participation in a sacrifice. His
wife and daughter, who, though they may perhaps not
have formally gone over to Christianity, yet in heart
favored it, gave way and sacrificed. The Christian
officials of the court refused. Then torture was used.
Peter, an official of high rank, was beaten, his stripes
rubbed with vinegar and salt, and then his limbs burned
one after the other. Nevertheless he joyfully con-
fessed his faith. Finally, all who would not sacrifice
were strangled.
410 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book in.
In the provinces also the edict was carried out with
greater or less severity, according to the disposition of
the governors. The churches were torn down, the
sacred books, when not voluntarily given up (as, alas I
happened often enough), were seized by force, and
publicly burned, the worship of the Christians was
hindered, and they were reduced to slavery, and em-
ployed in public works. In some places they already
went so far as to torture and execute the Christians.
Though the edict contained no such orders, yet it com-
manded the surrender of the sacred books, and the
abandonment of worship. Christians who refused to
give up the books, or held their services in spite of the
law, were punished according to the will of the respect-
ive governors. Thus, for instance, in Abitina, a town
in Proconsular Africa, forty-nine Christians who had
assembled to read the Scriptures and for the commun-
ion, were taken prisoners, and, when they would not
renounce their faith, were executed. Among them was
a boy named Hilarianus. The Proconsul thought he
should frighten him easily. " I will cut ofp all thy long
hair," he said to him, " and thy nose and ears." But
the boy replied : " Do what thou wilt, I am a Christian."
And when he too received the sentence, his answer
was, "Thank God! "23
Meanwhile the Emperor had issued a second edict,^*
which commanded that all the clergy should be impris-
oned; and, after a few months, a third,^^ in which it
was ordered that all who denied by sacrificing should be
set free, but the others compelled by torture. Many
yielded, but many remained steadfast. For years they
endured the imprisonment and the tortures applied from
time to time, without wavering ; and in the time after
CHAP. I.] THE FOURTH EDICT. 411
the persecution, many a servant of the Church bore
visible marks of the torments then suffered.
But it was impossible to stop even with this. The
heathen people themselves urged the matter on. In
the circus in Rome the Emperor was greeted with the
shout, " Away with the Christians ! O Augustus I No
more Christians ! " So the fourth edict appeared, ex-
tending to all Christians. All without distinction were
to be forced to sacrifice to the idols.^*^
Then began a persecution which surpassed even that
under Decius in extent and cruelty. Everywhere the
Christians were summoned on an appointed day. The
towns were surrounded with guards in order that no
one might escape. Then those who had been sum-
moned were called by name, and ordered to sacrifice.
Those who refused went straight to prison, and the
attempt was made to induce them to recant by means
of the most refined tortures. The wishes of those who
showed signs of yielding were met in every possible
way ; every device by which they might try to conceal
the fact of denial from themselves or others was readily
accepted, so long as they only denied. A grain of salt,
a pinch of incense was sufficient, if they only partici-
pated in the sacrifice. Of those who remained steadfast,
some died under the tortures, others were executed.
Blood flowed in streams throughout the Empire.
How large a share in this fourth edict Diocletian had,
is not clear. It was, it is true, issued in his name, but
when it went forth he was lying sick. He had become
a broken man generally, in body and soul. What had
come of his schemes? An Empire in which peace
and unity prevailed was what he had striven for, and
it at one time appeared as if he had succeeded in real-
412 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book hi.
izing this aim. When, shortly before the ominous win-
ter of A. D. 302-3, he celebrated his triumph, the whole
Empire was at peace, as it had not been for decades.
And now this single step, to which he had allowed
himself to be persuaded, yet which was well-nigh in-
evitable, since it was the consequence of his mistaken
system, must destroy the whole ! The union among the
rulers was broken. In Gaul the Qcemr Constantius
Chlorus had already begun to act independently. It
is true, that, for the sake of appearances, he had caused
some churches to be destroyed, but in other respects
he left the Christians undisturbed. The peace of the
Empire had fled, for fire and sword were busier than in
the civil war ; the Emperor himself was at war with a
large part of his people. And what was gained by the
persecution ? His heathen counsellors must have tried
to convince him that Christianity was now annihilated.
Diocletian cannot have made himself believe this.^^ The
fearful massacre which he had instigated had broken
down, not the strength of the Christians, but the
Emperor himself. Sick in body and in soul, living in
anxiety, terrified by evil omens, trembling at every
flash of lightning, he hid himself in the privacy of his
palace. His day was over. It weighed heavily upon his
heart at this time, when his whole life-work was in
danger, to have to confide the government to other
hands, and such hands 1 We can understand that at
the last moment he still hesitated. But the same Gale-
rius who had urged him to persecute, now urged his
abdication ; and Diocletian could not resist the second
demand, because he had not resisted the first. On the
1st of May, A. D. 305, in Nicomedia, in the presence
of the army, and before an image of Jupiter, he con-
CHAP. I.] COLLAPSE OF DIOCLETIAN'S SCHEMES. 413
summated his abdication, and departed to Salona, where
he had built himself a palace in the hope of there passing
his last years in peace. This hope was not to be ful-
filled. That which he already feared, he was destined
to see, — the complete collapse of the system of govern-
ment created by himself.
With Diocletian, his Co-Emperor Maximian resigned
the imperial dignity ; and though Constantius Chlorus
could not be passed by, but must be allowed to move
up from the rank of Ccesar to that of Augustus^ yet
Galerius not only received the supreme power, but in
nominating the Ccesars he passed over both Constantino
the son of Constantius Chlorus, and Maxentius the son
of Maximian, and chose instead two men who decidedly
shared his hatred of the Christians, Severus and Maxi-
minus Daza. Then Constantino fled from Nicomedia,
where he no longer believed himself safe, to his father ;
and when the latter died, not long after, the army
elected the son by acclamation to succeed him. Gale-
rius, seeing that Constantino, who was supported by
the army and greatly beloved in his father's realm, could
not be got rid of, yielded so far as to recognize him as
second Ccesar^ at the same time raising Severus to the
rank of Augustus^ and Maximinus Daza to that of first
Ccesar. Thus the system of Diocletian received another
dangerous shock. It rested upon the idea of adoption,
but the adoption was here broken through in one in-
stance by inheritance. The consequences of this soon
showed themselves. When Maxentius the son of Max-
imian, who had been passed over at the same time with
Constantino, heard that the latter had attained the
rank of Ccesar on the ground of inheritance, he did not
delay bringing forward his own similar claim, but made
414 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book hi.
himself Ccesar^ and was immediately recognized as such
in Italy, where the arbitrary government of Severus
had become odious. And then, to bring the confusion
to a climax, Maximian revoked his unwilling abdication,
and re-assumed the imperial purple. Diocletian must
have been most deeply pained to see the system he had
constructed with so much toil falling apart and crum-
bling piece by piece. In vain did he once more appear
upon the scene, and attempt to restore the shattered
union; but the conviction was soon forced upon him
that all was lost; he even found his own life threat-
ened ; and, anticipating what he feared, he took poison,
and himself brought his life to an end.
But let us return to Galerius. He had chosen his
Caesars so that they would be supporters and auxiliaries
to him in his principal task, the annihilation of Chris-
tianity. Maximinus Daza indeed was a thoroughly
superstitious, fanatical heathen, full of rough strength,
but utterly without education. So the persecution,
which had somewhat slackened so long as Constantius
wielded an influence as Augustus, flamed up again with
redoubled violence. It is true, the western part of the
Empire enjoyed perfect tranquillity. Constantius Chlo-
rus, when he became Augustus, no longer needed even
to destroy churches for the sake of appearances; and
after Severus had attacked the Christians in Italy with
such fury that the heathen themselves became indig-
nant, leaving the Christians in peace was one of the
measures by Avhich Maxentius won the people over to
himself. In the East, on the contrary, the persecution
endured for six years more, and for the first time
assumed a character truly fanatical. Murder was per-
petrated by wholesale. There were instances in which
CHAJ>. I.] FRIGHTFUL TORTURES INFLICTED. 415
ten, twenty, even a hundred, were put to death in a
single day. Occasionally they went to work in a
summary manner, and burnt the whole local church
with their place of meeting. In Phrygia a whole town
was surrounded with soldiers, and, like a town in an
enemy's country, was burned with its inhabitants, who
were all Christian s.^^ Still more characteristic of the
heathen fanaticism, which now reached its culmination,
was the refinement of cruelty with which murder was
carried on. Galerius issued an edict in which he
ordered that the Christians should be put to death
with slow fire. At first a little flame was placed
under the feet of the victim till the flesh gradually
calcining fell from the bones, then the other parts of
the body were burned one after another with torches.
At intervals cold water was dashed into the faces of
the tortured, in order that death might not come too
soon. Only at the end was the whole body burned
on the pyre, and the ashes cast into the sea or into a
river, in order to prevent the veneration even of the
martyrs' ashes.^^ When the Emperor's express orders
were of such a nature, we need not wonder that the
governors also vied with one another in the invention
of novel torments. They hung up the Christians by
the feet, and kindled fires beneath them, they cut off
their noses and ears, tore out their tongues, thrust out
their eyes, and maimed their hands and feet by cutting
through the sinews. For a time it would seem that
mutilation was systematically practised, and was re-
garded as a mitigation of punishment compared with
death.30 They poured melted lead over the Christians,
and cut them in pieces. The corpses of those who had
been executed were not allowed to be buried, they
416 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book m.
were left lying till the dogs and the vultures consumed
them.^^ This was also the time when Roman governors
condemned Christian maidens, still wearing the fillet,
the sign of their unsullied honor, to be flogged with
rods, half-naked, up and down the streets; when it
happened not infrequently that matrons and maidens
of noble rank were sentenced to be taken to the
brothel, and exposed to the lust of the heathen. It was
precisely the philosophically cultured officials, the Neo-
platonists proud of their wisdom and virtue, who thus
made themselves sadly conspicuous. More than once
matrons and maidens preferred death to dishonor, and
took their own lives in order to escape a worse fate.
Their contemporaries counted such too into the number
of the martyrs who died for their faith; but a later,
colder age cast doubts upon their claim to be considered
martyrs.^^
Yet the persecution, in the six years during which
it stil] went on, did not continue with steady pressure,
but after a fierce outburst it slackened a little while,
and then broke out more violently than before. The
patience of the Christians wearied the heathen; but
when in the times of tranquillity the Christians re-
assembled, and the heathen were forced to see that all
their rage had failed to annihilate Christianity and the
Church, then their wrath flamed up anew, and the
persecution began once more, frequently more terribly
than before, till weariness again followed the second
outbreak. About the sixth year of the persecution,
in A. D. 308, peace seemed to settle down everywhere.
The prisoners in the mines, of whom there was a large
number, were treated more leniently. The Christians
were already breathing more freely, and gave way to
CHAP. I.] RENEWAL OF THE PERSECUTION. 417
the hope that the storm was over. Then it broke out
again with greater violence than before. An imperial
edict appeared, addressed to all the military and civil
authorities, ordering them to resume the persecution
with all the powers at their command. The ruined
temples were to be rebuilt ; all, men, women, freemen,
slaves, and even the youngest children, were to be
compelled to sacrifice, and to partake of the meat of
the offering. The bloodshed began again, and they
now went so far as to sprinkle all the provisions in the
markets with sacrificial wine, or with the water used
in the offerings to idols, in order by this means to bring
the Christians, who would not sacrifice of their own
accord, into contact with the offerings to idols, against
their will. And after this storm had subsided, a short
outbreak of rage came in the year A. D. 310, occasioned
by the circumstance that the prisoners in the mines had
assembled for worship. But this very speedily passed
over.
The fire of persecution burned itself out. The brute
force and the raging fanaticism which characterized
these last outbursts could accomplish nothing against
the silent endurance of the Christians. Heathenism
had exhausted all its powers. Even the executioners
were wearied. The heathen themselves began to de-
nounce the useless effusion of blood, and to take the
part of the persecuted Christians. Galerius lay on his
deathbed; a dreadful disease, the consequence of his
debaucheries, had attacked him; he suffered the great-
est agony while corruption spread in his living body.
From his deathbed he issued, in A. D. 311, the remarka-
ble edict which entirely put an end to the persecution.^^
In it the Emperor, with his colleagues, proclaimed that
418 PERSECUTION UNDER DIOCLETIAN. [book hi.
it had been his purpose to bring every thing back to
the ancient laws and political system of the Romans,
and therefore to take care that the Christians who had
forsaken the religion of their forefathers should return
to a proper attitude of mind. But since the majority
of them had obstinately adhered to their purpose, and
he had seen that they neither paid due honor to the
heathen gods, nor even worshipped the God of the
Christians, therefore of his favor he would grant that
they might again be Christians, and hold their assem-
blies once more, on condition that they did not violate
the existing order of affairs. It would be well that
they should pray to their God in behalf of the welfare
of the Emperor and of the State, in order that the
State might remain uninjured in all respects, and that
they themselves might live in security.
This edict contains a plain confession of the impo-
tence of Heathenism. It does not speak of recognizing
or favoring Christianity. The Emperor still regards it
only as a defection from the ancestral religion : he does
not conceal his desire that the Christians would return
to it. But he renounces the attempt to accomplish
this desire by force, because he has come to see that
it is impracticable, and that which he can no longer
refuse to Christianity, he allows to appear as a gift of
his favor, in order to cover up his impotence to some
extent. Did the pangs of conscience have a voice in
this edict? Did the streams of blood which he had
shed leave to him, as to Diocletian, no peace upon his
bed of pain ? The wish so earnestly expressed at the
close of the edict, that the Christians would pray for
him, perhaps discloses some such feeling. The schemes
of Galerius, like those of Diocletian, now lay in ruins.
CHAP. I.] THE EDICT OF TOLERATION. 419
On him, too, crime revenged itself. He died soon after
in unspeakable torments.
The real conflict thus came to an end. It is true,
Maximinus did not recognize the edict, or at least
executed it in a very ambiguous manner. Soon after
its promulgation, he began again to limit the freedom
of the Christians, and to forbid their assemblies in the
cemeteries. He also strove to strengthen Heathenism
by various measures, and even commenced persecution
once more.^* But these were only the last convulsive
movements of expiring Heathenism. It had really
given up the contest.
But, of course, that which Christianity had won was
at first only an unwilling toleration. It had need of
more than that to fulfil its mission in the world: it
needed recognition. It was necessary that it should
come into connection with the State, that, though in a
different manner, it should occupy the place of Hea-
thenism, and form, as Heathenism had hitherto done,
the basis of the life of the people. All this was still
lacking. The edict of Galerius was not the complete
victory. But the complete victory was close at hand.
The man had come upon the scene, to whom the his-
torical task fell, to close the period of conflict, and, by
cementing the relations which were to bind State and
Church together for the future, to bring a new era to
the nations, — Constantine the Great.
.CHAPTER II.
THE VICTOKY.
** By this sign conquer."
Raeely is a man so differently judged as Constan-
tine the Great. Opinion still is unsettled about him.
Our own day generally regards him with little favor.
Indeed, many forces are at work to-day in destroy-
ing what he achieved. Many even regard it as a
chief duty of the present age to undo the deed of
Constantine, the connection of Church and State.
But not only to those whose object, whether they
avow it or not, is the removal of Christianity from
the State and from the national life, even to some
who estimate Christianity at its true value, his action
appears dubious, at least of doubtful worth, and this
judgment is easily transferred from the deed to the
doer.
In order to judge Constantine fairly, two prejudices
must be guarded against. First, the idea that a man to
whom Christianity owes such an entire change of posi-
tion in the world must necessarily have been himself a
peculiarly pure, spiritual, and active Christian. With
420
CHAP. II.] CONSTANTINE'S CHARACTER. 421
this idea, we may feel repelled by not finding what we
anticipated, and so fail to see what Constantine really
was. Of course the inner development of the Church,
an advance in its spiritual life, requires for its promoters
men who have experienced this advance in their own
souls. But where a change in the external situation of
the Church is concerned, — and such was the nature of
the revolution which we are now to consider, — it may
naturally be brought about by a person who for his own
part has little or no share in Christianity. Many ren-
der services to Christianity and to the Church, whose
hearts' are not Christian ; but it may often be observed
that these services bring to such men the blessing of
gradually drawing them near to the Church in heart,
though at first only outwardly active in its behalf.
Such a man, in my opinion, was Constantine. When
he took the first steps toward making Christianity the
predominant religion, his relation to it was little more
than outward, more like superstition than faith. But
he afterwards came nearer and nearer to Christianity,
and it cannot be ignored that later he recognized and
embraced its truth in his soul.
Second, it is not just to ascribe to direct hypocrisy
every case where the conduct does not square with the
profession. That is a false alternative, which is often
put as decisive in judging Constantine : either a Chris-
tian through and through, or not a Christian at all, and
therefore a liar and a hypocrite : either Constantine
acted from purely Christian or from purely political
motives, and in the latter case his Christianity was only
a mask. Constantine was no saint, and it is not my
purpose to make him out a saint ; but those who jump to
the conclusion that he must have been a hypocrite do
422 THE VICTORY. [book hi.
not realize how many things may exist together in the
heart of a man. Even the blood-guiltiness with which
he burdened his soul, and which I have no disposition
to excuse or extenuate, does not prove that what wears
the aspect of Christian piety in his life was pure hypoc-
risy. A service of very questionable value is done to
Constantine by those who, by way of compensation, exalt
the statesman as much as they depreciate the Christian
in him. For political wisdom whose ultimate root is hy-
pocrisy can hardly lay claim to be called genuine politi-
cal wisdom at all. The very fact that Constantine un-
doubtedly achieved a great and lasting success, should
be a warning against regarding him as a mere hypocrite.
For where was ever in the world a great achievement
made without inward participation in it ? Those who
deny this to Constantine, who view him as a cold and
calculating politician, without any heart in the work he
did, without any inward longing for the Christianity
which he made the basis of his political career, funda-
mentally fail in comprehending both the man and his
work.
The time immediately after the death of Galeri-us was
one of those moments of great suspense which occasion-
ally come in history. Every thing was prepared for a
great revolution ; the actors who were destined to take
part in it had already come upon the stage, but no one
could forecast the way in which the drama would un-
fold. Every one was conscious that things could not
remain as they were; but it was just this conscious-
ness which restrained all concerned from taking the
first step. Thus there came a moment of tranquillity ;
but it was the calm before the storm. It could not
last long ; and when once it was broken, the revolution
CHAP. II.] UNSETTLED STATE OF AFFAIRS. 423
everywhere prepared was accomplished with startling
rapidity.
In the East, Maximinus Daza and Licinius (who had
succeeded to the position of Galerins), after arraying
themselves against each other, made peace again, and
divided the Orient between them. The West was
ruled by Constantino and Maxentius. Thus the situa-
tion had become similar to that which Diocletian had
in view. And yet how great was the difference from
the time before the persecution. There was no thought
of an undivided dominion such as Diocletian had
planned, nor even of harmony among the four rulers.
Each governed independently of the others in his own
territory, and silently prepared for the war which must
come. No one of them trusted another, and each was
conscious that he must either conquer the rest, or fall.
In truth war was inevitable ; an Empire with four in-
dependent rulers was an impossibility. Nor was it the
question of supremacy alone which brought on the
war; a deeper cause was the still undecided question
of the State's attitude towards Christianity. In this
direction, also, the position of affairs was untenable.
The State now tolerated Christianity, but only because
it could not do otherwise. The Church was no longer
persecuted, but efforts were made to hinder its growth
by oppressive limitations. The State had defined its
attitude in the edict of toleration of A. D. 311, and in
the directions for carrying it out, which were sent to
the governors ; but both Maximinus Daza and Maxen-
tius at least did their best to make the execution of the
edict bring as little as possible of good to the Christians.
That such limitations could not long continue was to
be foreseen, for the Church had already become too
424 THE VICTORY. [book m.
powerful, and even the mere unwilling tolerance con-
ceded to it was sufficient to bring in numbers of the
heathen. Everywhere multitudes v/ere coming forward
to join the Christians. And what a contradiction lay
in this toleration. If Heathenism was still the religion
of the State, even toleration was too much. How
could the State harbor two such antagonistic religions
for any length of time, without being itself split in
two ? For a moment the scale might remain in equi-
librium, but it must shortly turn in favor of one side
or the other. The two questions of supremacy and
religion thus naturally combined. The struggle for
supremacy, as indeed it had originated in the persecu-
tion under Diocletian, assumed more and more the
character of a conflict between Christianity and Hea-
thenism, and the triumph of Constantine over his rivals
resulted also in the victory of Christianity over Hea-
thenism.
The very first act of the great war, the conflict be-
tween Constantine and Maxentius, was decisive. Max-
entius, who ruled Italy and Africa, was a profligate and
a tyrant. He assumed an increasingly hostile attitude
towards Constantine. His command that all statues of
Constantine in Italy were to be thrown down, showed
what was to be looked for from that quarter. There-
fore Constantine determined to be beforehand with
him. Before his antagonist had seriously thought of
war, he crossed the Alps with his army, and descended
on Northern Italy. Constantine's attack was exceed-
ingly venturesome. His army numbered about forty
thousand men, while that of Maxentius was at least
three times that number, and included the Praetorian
Guard, the flower of the Roman army, and eighteen
CHAP, n.] CONSTANTINE AND THE CROSS. 425
thousand horse, of special importance in the plains of
Northern Italy. Besides, the fortresses round about
greatly strengthened the position of Maxentius, and
the great resources of Italy and Africa were at his
disposal. Indeed, some in Constantine's army denounced
the undertaking as rash. Constantine himself was well
aware what risks he was running, what a venture it
was to start on this campaign with an army compara-
tively small, and that (a weighty consideration) against
Rome itself. For Rome was still, at least in name, the
centre of the Empire ; a nimbus of sacredness still
encircled the city which ruled the world, and it was no
light thing to lead Roman troops to battle against the
very Rome in whose name they took the field, and
whose symbol they bore upon their standards. We
can understand that Constantine in such a situation
sought other, higher help. According to his own/
account, at that time he long considered to which god,'
he should turn for help, and prayed to the supremq
God, whom his father had worshipped as god of thej
sun, to reveal to him who he was. Then there appeared!
to him one day a wondrous sign. When the sun wad
declining in the west, he saw a bright cross upon the'
sun, and over it the inscription in letters of light:,
TOTTQ NIKA (in this, hy this sign, conquer). He was
disturbed, by the vision, and not clear what its meaning
might be ; but in the night Christ appeared to him, and
commanded him to make this cross his banner, and
then to go into battle with the certainty of victory.
In fulfilment of this direction, Constantine had a banner
(the Labaruwi) prepared, bearing the cross and the
monogram of Christ. He himself set a cross on his
helmet, and his soldiers painted it upon their shields.
426 THE VICTORY. [book hi.
Then he led his army from victory to victory, under
the banner of the cross, until, in the bloody battle at
the Milvian Bridge, the power of Maxentius was en-
tirely broken. Constantine entered Rome in triumph,
and soon the whole West acknowledged his sway. In
token of his gratitude for this result, the Emperor had
a statue of himself set up in Rome, carrying a cross in
his hand, and bearing the inscription: "By this salu-
tary sign, the true proof of valor, I have freed your
city, and saved it from the yoke of the tyrant." ^
I can not and will not pass over the question of the
estimate to be put upon this narrative. Let us examine
it without prejudice, particularly without the preju-
dice (for it is nothing more) that there are no such
things as miracles, and that therefore the story, however
strongly supported, cannot be true. Beyond the limits
of the New Testament, we must certainly be very cau-
tious in accepting miracles which are narrated, but we
must not, we can not, deny the possibility that the Lord
may at peculiarly critical moments in the history of his
Church interpose by miracles. The story as given in
the greatest detail by Eusebius, who claims to have re-
ceived it from the Emperor's own lips.^ Constantine in
his old age had narrated it to the historian, and con-
firmed it with an oath. The story cannot therefore be
wholly rejected as pure fiction, unless one is willing to
consider either Eusebius or Constantine guilty of delib-
erate falsehood. It is true that Eusebius is no impar-
tial historian, at least in his life of Constantine, yet a
partisan coloring or conception of the facts is a long
way from the fabrication of events which never hap-
pened. Eusebius too would hardly have ventured to
invent such a story about the Emperor. If there be
CHAP. II.] SUDDEN CHANGE IN CONSTANTINE. 427
any falsehood in it, Constantine unquestionably is the
guilty party. Now I hold Constantine to be capable of
a falsehood, even his oath I should not consider binding
without other reasons, since he did not respect it him-
self, where political advantage was concerned ; but I
cannot comprehend the motives for such a strange false-
hood as this, nor what could induce him to invent such
a story in his old age, and to tell it to Eusebius in a
moment of confidence. There might have been some
advantage in having the story circulated earlier, but
then when he told it, all those things were long gone
by ; they belonged to history, and had no longer any
value for the present.
And it is impossible on other grounds to relegate the
whole story to the realm of fiction. It is a fact that in
Constantine's attitude to Christianity a complete change
took place between A. D. 311 and 313, and that sud-
denly. At the beginning of A. D. 312 he seemed, to
say the least, cool and non-committal. He had issued
the edict of Galerius, and the orders concerning its
execution, which as we have seen were but little favor-
able to Christianity. He was, no doubt, even then a
monotheist ; but the one God whom he worshipped was
rather the Sun-god, the " Unconquered Sun," than the
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. But at the begin-
ning of A. D. 313, he issued the edict of Milan, which
was extraordinarily favorable to the Christians, and took
the first decisive steps towards raising Christianity to
the position of the dominant religion.
These innovations are commonly attributed by recent
writers to purel}^ political considerations. It is said
that the Emperor, convinced of the impotence of
Heathenism and of the power of Christianity, conceived
428 THE VICTORY. [book ni.
the great political purpose of gaining Christianity over
to his side and thus making its strength serviceable to
him. He recognized with statesman-like keenness to
which religion the future belonged, and that the State
could be built up anew only on the basis of Christian-
ity, strong in the strength of its youth. In my view
this explanation does not correspond to the situation of
affairs at the time, nor does it find any support in those
facts which are indubitably certain in Constantine's
own testimony.^ Constantine did not need to gain over
the Christians : they had been on his side from the time
of his father, so far as the Christians can be said to
have taken sides at all in these conflicts. His own
army was mainl}^ composed of barbarians, and among
these the Christians were certainly not in the majority.
Indeed, in all the West they were only a small minority
as yet, and in Rome Heathenism still greatly preponder-
ated, so that in that city favor to the Christians was
the last thing to win popularity for him who showed it.
Purely political considerations would necessarily have
rather counselled against the step he took, for, while he
gained nothing by it which he did not already possess,
he was likely to render the heathen hostile to him.
The edict of Milan, without doubt the best original
document on the subject, indicates motives quite other
than those which modern historians have attributed to
the Emperor from their own circle of ideas. In the
edict Constantine himself gives as the motive of the
favor he was showing to the Christians, the benefits
which he had received from the Supreme God and the
wish that these divine benefits might remain hence-
forth assured to him.* Constantine therefore believed
that be owed the brilliant victory which he had gained
CHAP. II.] CONSTANTINE'S MOTIVES. 429
over a force much stronger than his own, to a special
interposition of the Supreme God on his side; and
wherever we look, among Christians or heathen, we
come upon just this view, everywhere the unexpected
victory is attributed to the special protection of the
Supreme God. More than this, the special protection
was distinctly connected with the banner of the cross.
With all the labor that has been spent on the task, it
has proved impossible to make away with the fact that
first in the war with Maxentius, and after that more
and more prominently, the cross was the banner under
which Constantino fought and conquered. At this date
the heathen emblems disappeared from the imperial
standard, and were supplanted by the cross and the
monogram of Christ. On the helmets, on the shields,
on the very coins, we find from that date, in hundreds
of examples, the cross and the two sacred letters X P.,
the Greek initials of the name Christ, And if we could
still cherish any doubts as to the significance of this,
the equally undoubted fact, above mentioned, that
Constantine allowed himself to be represented in a
statue, holding the cross, and expressly declared it to
be the banner under which he had conquered, should
banish all cloubt.^
So much, then, is certain, Constantine himself believed
that he owed his victory to the cross. But this fact
would be wholly isolated, if we were to obliterate that
story of the vision as a pure fabrication. The question
then would be, What brought about this sudden change
in the views of the Emperor? Something must have
happened which induced Constantine to make the cross
his standard. It may be conceded that Eusebius has
somewhat, perhaps greatly, embellished the story, or.
430 THE VICTORY-. [book hi.
with still greater probability, that (as often happens
with just such stories as have afterwards come to a
significance and fulfillment beyond all anticipation), it
was painted in vivid colors by the recollections of the
Emperor; but that it was a simple fabrication is impos-
sible in view of the facts. Further, we have no right
to twist it round after the rationalistic method, — to
assume, for example, that Constantine saw only a chance
shaping of the clouds in the figure of a cross, and held
it to be a sign, because it responded to the state of his
emotions ; for thus we place at the foundation of what
the original documents relate an element foreign to
them of our own devising, and which finds no support
whatever in those documents. And then the whole
course of events in one of the greatest crises of history
would rest upon a chance, and on a superstitious illu-
sion on the part of Constantine. This I at least cannot
accept. To me the history of Christ's Church is some-
thing other than an aggregation of chances and human
illusions. I hold firmly that the exalted Saviour, as He
promised, rules and guides His Church. And in this de-
cisive moment He interposed. It pleased Him to con-
descend to Constantine, and to answer his questions, as
God condescended to the wise men from the East, and,
by means of their astrological superstitions, led them
to Bethlehem with a star. Constantine hitherto had
reverenced the Sun as the supreme God, and the cross
placed upon the Sun was to show him that the God
who has revealed himself in the crucified One is the
supreme God ; and when Constantine did not immedi-
ately understand, it was explained more particularly
to him in a dream. From henceforth this was the
banner under which he and his army fought, and the
CHAP. II.] SUPERNATURAL VISION OF THE CROSS. 431
victories which he gained confirmed him in the belief
that the god who gave him this sign was the supreme
God. But I do not at all suppose that Constantine was
completely converted by this vision, and forthwith be-
came a faithful Christian in the full meaning of the
words. The sign of the cross was to him at first rather
an object of superstitious reverence than a symbol of
salvation. Not until later did it become more to him.
For the present he only thought of winning the favor
of the supreme God by taking the part of Christianity,
though in his own heart he had not yet completely
broken with Heathenism, and his personal convictions
contained a medley of heathen and Christian elements.
Not until the conflict assumed more and more the
character of a struggle between Heathenism and Chris-
tianity, was Constantine compelled to take the Christian
side ; and only when the war was ended by the victory
over Licinius, did the Emperor personally confess him-
self unreservedly a Christian.^
The revolution now went on with surprising rapidity.
On Oct. 27, A. D. 312, Maxentius and his army had
been cut to pieces at the Milvian Bridge. His Praeto-
rian guard had fought with the valor of veterans; no
one of them had yielded a foot ; they lay in ranks, as
they had stood, on the field of battle. The rest of the
army, and the tyrant, had been ingulfed by the waters
of the Tiber. Rome, Italy, the Islands and Africa
immediately fell to the victor. Constantine held this
to be a gift from the Christians' God, and hastened to
render his thanks for it. In the early part of A. D. 313
he met Licinius in Milan, and thence issued the edict
of toleration."^ Directly afterwards the war which had
been threatening between Licinius and Maximinus
432 THE VICTORY. [book hi.
broke out. In this case, too, the victory of Licinius,
who was then friendly to the Christians, over their
persecutor Maximinus, was a wonderfully rapid one.
On June 13 the edict of Milan was published in Nico-
media, the city from which ten years before the perse-
cution had gone out. This edict was now in force
throughout the Empire.
In this edict, which marks the beginning of a new
era, full religious freedom was given. Every one in the
Empire was henceforth to have entire liberty to embrace
whatever religion he thought the best. The great
principle was thus for the first time promulgated, that
religion is the most personal affair of every man, and
about it no other man has a right to legislate ; that it is
not the office of the powers that be to coerce or compel
any one to embrace a religion. Thus was won at length
that which the Christians had so long demanded, that
for which they had struggled and shed their blood.
The edict of Milan marks the great moment when the
truth obtained recognition, that no one could be forced
into a religion, because forced religion ceases to be
religion at all. These fundamental principles of reli-
gious freedom have often again been obscured, for long
enough, for centuries they have almost been lost sight
of; but they have always again worked their way to the
surface, and he who denies them denies in its essence
the Christianity to v/hich they belong.
It was simply a consequence of these principles,
when Constantine ordered that all the property confis-
cated during the time of persecution should be restored
to the Christians. This indeed only made good the
transgressions of the previous years against the princi-
ple of toleration. But the Emperor added, with great
CHAP, n.] THE EDICT OF MILAN. 433
wisdom, that those who had bought the confiscated
estates of cliurclies should give them back indeed, but
should receive compensation from the imperial treasury.
Thus the Christians received their rights, and yet harsh-
ness and discontent were avoided.
The edict itself did not go further than this, but the
urgency with which Constantine enjoined on the officials /
its prompt and careful fulfillment, fosters the suspicion
that Constantine did not intend to stop there. His atti- i
tude towards Christianity was no longer merely neutral,
but already one of positive friendliness and favor. It '
could not be otherwise : it is impossible for the State to
occupy a purely neutral attitude towards the religions j
which prevail in it. A State without a religion is a mere '
figment of the imagination, which can only be cherished /
by those who have no idea what religion is. Religion
controls the whole life of man. Must it not also con- /
trol the lives of those who govern the State ? As soon
as Constantine had become favorably disposed towards
Christianity, the change in him would necessarily influ-
ence the policy of his government, and that in an
increasing degree, the nearer he himself approached to
becoming a Christian. Already Christianity stood in
his estimate higher than Heathenism, for his favorite
name for it was " the most devout religion." He came
to see clearly that fallen Heathenism was drawing the
State into its ruin, and that if the State was really to
renew its life, it must be on a new religious basis, which
only Christianity could offer. The more distinctly he
recognized this, the more zealousty did he seek to make
a place for Christianity, and to establish a connection
between the Church and the State. Christianity was
to be the salt to preserve the State from the corruption
of Heathenism.
434 THE VICTORY. [book m.
A series of measures was the fruit of this endeavor.
As early as March, A. D. 313, the clergy were released
from the duty of filling municipal offices, at that time a
great and costly burden.^ Thus one of the privileges
of the heathen priests was extended to the clergy, who
were thus put on an equality with the priests. About
the same time the Emperor gave considerable sums of
money for the support of the clergy.^ The Church also
received the right of having wills drawn in its favor.^*^
Then several statutes in the laws, which were contrary
to Christianity and its principles, were repealed. The
punishments of crucifixion and of breaking the legs
were done away with.^^ The cross, now the sign of sal-
vation, the highly venerated symbol of Christianity
itself, could no longer be used in a disgraceful punish-
ment. Criminals were no longer to be branded on the
forehead, that the majesty of the human countenance,
which is fashioned in the image of heavenly beauty,
might not be dishonored.^^ This was a seemingly unim-
portant, but really very significant regulation, for it is
founded on the recognition of the dignity of man, of
which Heathenism knew nothing, and which Christianity
first brought to light. Limitations were also imposed
on the gladiatoral contests. They were, of course, not
expressly forbidden, but it was decreed that in future
no criminal was to be condemned to the Games. Those
who had deserved such a sentence should rather be sent
to labor in the mines, that they might expiate their
crimes without bloodshed.^^ Thus the State withdrew
from the Games, and no longer co-operated to promote
them. Attention was directed tow^ards the prisons, and
the merciful treatment of prisoners was made the duty
of the officials.^^ The laws concerning marriage were
CHAP, n.] LAWS FAVORING CHRISTIANITY. 435
in several particulars accommodated to the views of the
Christians. The laws against the unmarried and the
childless were abrogated, and, on the other hand, laws
were enacted punishing adultery and seduction. ^^ The
exposure of children was forbidden.^® If a father de-
clared that he was not in a condition to support his
child, provision was made for its care.^^ When on the
occasion of a severe famine in A. D. 321 many parents
sold their children, this practice too was prohibited. If
parents were in want, the public treasury would pro-
vide for their relief; " for it is against our customs, that,
under our rule, any one should be compelled by hunger
to commit a crime. "^^ The manumission of slaves was
facilitated, and at the same time it was provided that
it should take place in the church and in presence of
the priest.^^ The Church thus received the great office
of continuing the emancipation of slaves, already begun
by it, with the support of the State. Of peculiar im-
portance, finally, were the laws which commanded the
general observance of Sunday. On " the venerable Day
of the Sun " no labor was to be performed excepting
pressing agricultural work ; the courts and administra-
tive offices were to be closed, and no legal business
transacted except the manumission of slaves.-'' The
soldiers were conducted into the open country, and
there held a service of a peculiar kind, but one entirely
characteristic of this time of transition. It was not
heathen, but it was also not as yet thoroughly Chris-
tian. It consisted mainly in the invocation of the one
supreme God, at this time recognized by most of the
heathen, that He might bless the Emperor and the
Empire.-^
The heathen worship indeed was not forbidden. Not
4S6 THE VICTORY. [book iii.
till later did Constantine shut up certain temples in
which the rites were connected with gross licentious-
ness, and forbid the celebration in private houses of
sacrifices which included the inspection of the entrails.^^
Those who felt the need of sacrifices were to go to the
temples. " We do not forbid," the Emperor declares,
" the ceremonies of the old cultus " (by this time the
official name for Heathenism), "but they must be cele-
brated in broad daylight." ^^ Now, as formerly, the Em-
peror exercised the office of Pontifex Maxiw,us^ which
was joined to the imperial dignity. Not only in Rome
were ancient temples restored, but even in the new
Rome on the Bosphorus, in Constantinople, although
the town from the first was predominantly Christian,
temples were still erected to the gods. While on the
one hand the bishops enjoyed constant access at court,
yet on the other hand the Emperor held frequent
intercourse with heathen, and had some of them con-
stantly near his own person. The forcible suppression
of Heathenism in any way was never thought of. The
State respected the religious freedom of the citizen,
and did not regard it as its duty to convert him, but
gave the Church a place, and left it free scope. The
State did not esteem itself able, or in duty bound for
its part, to uproot every thing un-Christian with ex-
cessive zeal, but it withdrew from partnership with
Heathenism. Christian ideas were permitted to influ-
ence the legislation of the State, and the general ob-
servance of Sunday wove a very firm bond between
the life of the people and Christianity ; but beyond
this the new religion was left to work itself out.
Constantine's conduct, especially in these first years,
has been called ambiguous, and certainly not without
CHAP. II.] HEATHENISM GRADUALLY REPRESSED. 437
reason. The Emperor himself indeed confessed it,
when, on his death-bed, he accompanied his request for
baptism with the words, "Now all ambiguity vanishes." ^^
But in order to be just to Constantine, two things must
not be forgotten. First, how difficult it was to be a
Roman Emperor and at the same time a Christian.
Constantine indeed often felt it deeply enough, and
finally gave expression to this consciousness by never
again assuming the imperial purple after his baptism. ^'"^
Secondly, it must be conceded, that the attitude of
Constantine in his difficult position, and considering the
magnitude of his task, was in many respects wise and
prudent. Without v^iolence. State and Church ap-
proached each other, step by step. Heathenism was
thrust back, and the influence of Christianity on the
life of the State and of the people steadily increased.
The State was not yet Christian, but it was near the
point of becoming so, and drew every year nearer.
Even without the express removal of Heathenism from
being the religion of the State, and the substitution of
Christianity for it, there could be no doubt that no
longer heathen but Christian ideas influenced the meas-
ures of the Btate to an increasing extent ; and while in
public matters, such as documents, inscriptions, coins,
neutral formulas and symbols were favored, — for in-
stance, the now very common expression, deity, — yet it
is easy to see that these neutral formulas were intended
to pave the way for others specifically Christian. In-
deed, this was a time of transition for Constantine, as
well as for his Empire. In this period many things not
germane to Christianity, many plainly heathenish, ex-
isted side by side with Christianity. But, instead of
reproaching the Emperor with this fact, we ought
438 THE VICTORY. [book m
rather to admire the statesmanlike wisdom with which,
although his own purposes were certainly settled at
that time, he yet did not rashly grasp at their fulfill-
ment, but waited tranquilly until the right moment
came, and that which he sought dropped like ripened
fruit into his hand.
This was particularly the case in his attitude towards
the East, which still remained under the rule of Licinius.
The union of the whole Empire was certainly from the
first the object of Constantino's ambition, but alluring
as was the scheme of attaining this object in a single
campaign after his brilliant victories, yet the Emperor
checked himself, and bided his time. Even after the
war had broken out with Licinius, and Constantino
had won the first battle, he made peace again with him.
Enduring, of course, the peace could not be. The
Empire could not continue divided, either in govern-
ment or religion. Indeed, as in this period all political
questions were at bottom religious, and in every conflict
the real issue was the conflict between Christianity and
Heathenism, so was in this case the division of the
Empire no less religious than political, and became so
increasingly from day to day, in the natural course of
things. While Constantino was more and more taking
the side of Christianity, rivalry to him made Licinius
the firm ally of Heathenism. His political suspicion
made him mistrust Christianity. In everj^ Christian he
saw an adherent, in every bishop a secret agent of his
rival, Constantine. Without resorting to bloodshed,
he endeavored to hem in Christianity as much as pos-
sible, and to promote Heathenism.^'^ Assemblies of the
bishops were forbidden. Christian instruction was hin-
dered under all kinds of pretexts, in some places the
CHAP. II.] CONFLICT WITH LICINIUS. 439
services of the Christians were banished from the
churches in the towns to the open country; and to this
last order Licinius mockingly added that the fresh air
would be more wholesome for such numerous assem-
blies."'^ In Pontus a number of churches were perma-
nently closed. The Christians were accused of having
prayed for Constantine, instead of for Licinius. From
the Emperor's vicinity, from the chief offices civil and
military, all Christians were removed, and the entire
administration, including the command of the army,
was put into the hands of stanch heathen.-^ Still worse
things came about, but without our being able to see
how far Licinius was to blame, how far his officials
were guilty, whom their master's feeling against Chris-
tianity might easily have incited to acts of open perse-
cution. Christians were condemned to the confiscation
of their property, on account of their fidelity to their
religion; they were deprived of their rank and their
freedom, sent to the mines, and ill treated in other ways.^^
Indeed, even at this time some Christians sealed their
faith with death ; namely, among the soldiers, in whose
case both military discipline and the severity of martial
law came into play. Such were the famous Forty
Martyrs of Sebaste. The governor of Armenia Minor,
so we are told, gave orders that forty soldiers, who re-
fused to deny their faith, should be exposed, completely
naked, on the ice, to the fierce cold of a winter night.
For those who made up their minds to renounce Christ,
a warm bath and every means of restoration were pro-
vided on the bank. Only one yielded and came to the
shore. But in his place one of the guard immediately
went out as a martyr, so that forty came to their death.^*^
The result of all such measures was, that the Christians
440 THE VICTORY. [book m.
really began to look to Constantine as their deliverer,
while the heathen set their hopes on Licinius. And
when the long suspense finally gave place to open war
again, it necessarily assumed the character of a conflict
of religions.
Licinius for his part openly proclaimed it. Before
beginning the campaign, he assembled the chiefs of the
army and the principal nobles of the court in a sacred
grove. After the sacrifices had been offered, he pointed
to the statues of the gods, as those which had come
down from the forefathers, and accused Constantine of
having deserted the ancestral shrines, of worshipping a
foreign god, and of putting the army of the Romans
to shame by means of the disgraceful banner of the
cross. Then he expressly demanded a judgment of
God. " The present crisis," he said, " will prove which
of us errs in judgment, by deciding between our gods
and those revered by our adversaries. . . . And, indeed
if the stranger (god) whom we now laugh at, prove
victorious, we too must recognize and honor him, and
bid a long farewell to those for whom we burn tapers
in vain. But if our own gods conquer, as is no wise
doubtful, then, after this victory, we will prosecute the
war against the impious." ^^ On the other side, Con-
stantine carried into the field the banner of the cross,
and in more than one fierce and bloody battle he and
his army believed that they owed their victory to this
banner. Licinius was completely vanquished; Con-
stantine remained sole lord of the re-united empire.
The judgment of God which they had invoked fell
heavily upon the heathen. Heathenism seemed to be
annihilated at one blow, and now the heathen crowded
in multitudes into the Church. Everywhere in the
CHAP, n.] TRIUMPH OF CHRISTIANITY. 441
towns and villages the white robes of the baptized were
to be seen ; the temples of the ancient gods were de-
serted ; the churches of the victorious God of the Chris-
tians could not contain the multitude of His worshippers.
And the course of events must have exerted a great
influence upon Constantino. He now showed quite a
different spirit from that of his utterances after the
victory over Maxentius. He openly confessed his belief
in the true God, and condemned Heathenism as error
and sin. He distinctly declared that he was now called
as a servant of God to lead the world from the setting
to the rising sun, out of darkness into light, into the
service due to the true God. Yet he expressly disa-
vowed any purpose of trying to suppress Heathenism
by force : the erring should enjoy the same tranquillity
as the faithful, though his counsel to all men would be
to embrace Christianity. " Let every one do what his
soul desires. . . . Those who hold themselves aloof
may have, as they desire, the temples of lies. But we
have the most glorious house of Thy truth, which Thou
hast given us for our own. And we ask the same bless-
ing for them that they too may attain this joy through
the universal peace and concord." ^^
Now appeared in swift succession a series of laws all
calculated to allow of the gradual extinction of Hea-
thenism, and on the other hand to promote Christianity
and to make it the sole religion of the Empire. Old
and ruined temples were not to be restored. Officials
were forbidden to participate in sacrifices, and it would
seem that later the attempt was made to do away with
sacrifices everywhere. In some places the people went
further than this. Avarice put its hand to the work,
temples were plundered, despoiled of their statues, and
442 ' THE VICTORY. [book m.
their columns, timbers, and stones used for other build-
ings. On the other hand a general enlargement of the
chui'ches was instituted, and Constantine himself erected
a number of splendid basilicas in the great cities, in
Antioch and Nicomedia. In Jerusalem, on the spot
where the Lord was buried and rose again, was built
the magnificent Church of the Holy Sepulchre and of
the Resurrection ; and Helena, the mother of the Em-
peror, adorned the Mount of Olives and Bethlehem
with shrines. Finally Constantine gave to the Empire
a new metropolis. Christian from its beginning. Since
old Rome held strongly to the heathen religion, he cre-
ated a new Rome on the* Bosphorus. There Christian
churches rose, chief of all the large and stately Church
of the Apostles, built of marble and colored stones ;
there the city was full of Christian signs and symbols.
There, v/ere not to be seen, as in the squares of the
ancient towns, the statues of the gods, but in the mar-
ket-place stood a statue of the Good Shepherd ; ^^ and at
the entrance of the imperial palace there attracted the
gaze of all who went out and in, an immense picture rep-
resenting Constantine himself with the Laharum, the
banner of the cross, in his hand, and under his feet,
pierced with arrows, a dragon, the dragon of Heathen-
ism.24
In truth that dragon was conquered, after having
vented his rage upon Christianity for almost three cen-
turies. The victory was complete and lasting, for the
final attempt of the Emperor Julian to restore Heathen-
ism to power could only result in completely laying
bare its impotence and hastening its utter destruction.
Constantine's work was not without its great and serious
defects ; we shall learn more about them later. From
CHAP, n.] CHUUCH AND STATE. 443
the new situation there arose new dangers and new
injuries to the Church. Yet it was no " Adonis garden
blooming for a single day,"^^ as his nephew Julian
scornfully called it, that the great Emperor planted ;
but it had a destiny of centuries, and every day we
enjoy its fruits. Constantine could not, of course, save
the Roman Empire. Its life ran out, for it had ful-
filled its mission of gathering for Christ. Its destiny
was to die by the hand of Christianity, because its chief
end was to prepare for Christianity its first sphere in the
world. Afterwards the Christian age was to bring new
forms of national and political life. Constantine the
Great was succeeded — though it was centuries later —
by Charlemagne. Out of the ruins of the Christian-
ized Roman Empire, the Roman Empire of the German
nation arose, and in this the achievement of Constantine
was really completed. The whole succeeding history of
the Teutonic peoples was defined and determined by
the deed of Constantine, and we need only to be re-
minded of the significance of the " Christian Magistra-
cy" for the Reformation, in order to see how the bless-
ing of this action of the first Christian Emperor flows
down through the Reformation to ourselves. From the
days of Constantine there existed a Christian magis-
tracy — in those words the whole result is summed up
to every one who can comjDrehend their meaning.
Our own age is the first which has commenced to
batter at Constantine's work, and many hold it necessary
to demand the exact reversal of the step he took, as
the prerequisite of a step forward in the development
of civilization. Those who make this their endeavor
would do well to consider, that it was the State which
in its distress sought the alliance with Christianity, be-
444 THE VICTORY. [book m.
cause it needed a new bond with the conscience of the
citizen, because it was in want of a new moral salt to
preserve the national life from complete corruption. If
it should really come to pass that the bond, which Con-
stantino created between Christianity and political and
national life, should be ruptured, it would soon become
evident that the State cannot do without Christianity,
and the national life would necessarily become hopeless-
ly corrupt without the salt of the Christian religion.
Retrograding bej^ond Constantino the world would
adopt Diocletian's policy, the attempt would have to be
made once more to suppress Christianity by force, and
then, either our entire national life and civilization would
go to ruin, as Diocletian's schemes and the whole an-
tique civilization went, or it would be necessary to de-
cide upon doing Constantino's deed a second time, if
that were still a possible thing.
One thing, however, I do not intend to assert. I do
not mean to say that Constantino took the right method
in all respects to create this bond between Christianity
and the life of the people, or that the attitude which
the State and Church then assumed towards one an-
other was one really appropriate to their respective
\ natures and ends. If — God grant it! — the struggles
of to-day result in confirming the bond which Constan-
tino created, but also in bringing it to perfection, in
causing State and Church to maintain their alliance,
but to preserve it in a purer form, then the benefits of
Constantino's achievement would accrue in richer meas-
ure to us and our children, and in every sphere of life
\the promise given to Constantino would be anew con-
l firmed : " In this sign conquer ! "
CHAPTER III.
THE LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM.
" Nubecula est, transibit ! " It is only a little cloud. It will pass.
Athanasius.
In the reign of Decius, so runs the legend, seven
youths in Ephesus who had confessed their Christian
faith in the persecution, but afterwards escaped their
persecutors, fell asleep in a cave in which they took
refuge. When they awoke again, the next morning as
they supposed, they sent one of their number to the
town to fetch food, and he was greatly astounded to
find there every thing completely changed. Heathen-
ism had disappeared, the idol statues and temples were
gone, in their place were splendid churches ; and over
the city gates, on the houses, and above the churches,
everyvfhere, shone victorious that cross, for whose sake
they had, as they thought, been persecuted but yester-
day. They had slept two hundred years in the cave.
This legend of the Seven Sleepers well represents the
impression which must have been made on the contem-
poraries of Constantine, by the gigantic revolution
which they had experienced. The history of the world
had taken an immense stride forwards, such as seldom
445
446 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
comes so suddenly. On the imperial throne sat a
Christian ; from that quarter the Church was no longer
persecuted, but favored ; the power which the Emperor
possessed, his personal influence, the resources at his
command, stood at the disposal of Christianity. The
Church for the first time learned what it meant to have
the magnates of the earth as friends — what advantages,
but also what dangers, lay therein.
How suddenly all this had come ! It is true that if
we follow out the conflict carried on by Christianity for
three centuries past, the victory seems completely ac-
counted for. We see that in proportion as Christianity
became inwardly more and more the ruling power, the
moment drew ever nearer when it must become so out-
wardly. And yet the moment when, by the decision of
an Emperor, it came into power, must have thrilled the
whole Empire with a mighty shock, and its effect was
plainly perceptible in the revolution sustained by indi-
vidual characters.
But we must not imagine that the whole huge Em-
pire, the entire life of the people, at once became Chris-
tian when the Emperor set up the cross. The most
mighty of forces cannot change in a day the customs
and institutions of an Empire more than a thousand
years old. The Emperor was still called Pontifex Max-
imus ; even the succeeding Emperors, who forbade the
rites of the ancient religion, Jievertheless bore the same
title. The statue of Victory still stood in the Roman
Senate, and before every session libations and offerings
were brought to it.^ At the time when Constantine was
having regular Christian preaching in his palace in
order to convert the heathen of his court, the altars of
the G-ens Flavia, the imperial Gens, were smoking in
CHAP. III.] THE REVOLUTION STILL INCOMPLETE. 447
the cities, and the Emperor still bore the official title
Divus^ that is, he was still in his own person a heathen
God. Especially in the western Empire the heathen
were still greatly in the majority, and the ancient reli-
gion was still deeply rooted in the manners and cus-
toms, in the domestic and the public life. Heathenism
was conquered, but it was far from being really sub-
dued, still less extinct. In this new city on the Bos-
phorus, Constantine set up a colossal statue of himself.
It was an ancient statue of Apollo. Its head was
struck off, and a head of Constantine substituted. Also,
inside the statue was placed a piece of what was sup-
posed to be the holy cross, discovered by the Empress
Helena. This is a kind of mirror of the age. A
heathen body with a Christian head and Christian
life at the heart; for Christianity was in truth the
dominant power within, though externally Heathenism
everywhere appeared, and would have to be gradually
overcome from within. This unique character of the
times is to be duly considered, if we are truly to esti-
mate the actors on this stage. Only then can we judge
Constantine fairly even in his faults, only then can we
comprehend how Julian could form the purpose of re-
storing Heathenism, and also why his scheme would
necessarily be wrecked.
Triumphs sudden and unexpectedly great bring with
them the danger that the conqueror will under-estimate
the strength of his opponent, and, by pushing his con-
quest too far, will evoke a re-action against him of the
forces which still remain. Even Constantine did not
escape this danger. After the victory over Licinius it
seemed as if Heathenism had forever collapsed, and with
ease could be completely put out of the way. Though
448 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book hi.
the Emperor would not suppress Heathenism by force,
yet he did not interpose when fanaticism and avarice
destroyed the temples in some places. Though he
would not compel the heathen to change their reli-
gion, yet he endeavored in every way to persuade
them so to do. Large gifts of money were bestowed
to enable the Church to distribute liberal charities ; for,
thought Constantine, the sermons would not reach all,
some would be won by receiving support in a time
of need, others by finding protection and assistance,
others again by a friendly welcome and gifts bestowed
as marks of honor. And the Emperor did not neglect
advocating the claims of the Church in person. In
regular sermons he tried to convince his court-circle
of the truth of Christianity,^ and was much delighted
when one or another confessed to having been won over
by him. The Church grew, and that more rapidly than
ever before, but what kind of adherents were those
who now thronged in, attracted by the sunshine of the
imperial favor !
Worse than this, the Emperor now began to interfere
in person in the internal affairs of the Church. Its
position was one full of temptation for him. He recog-
nized the greatness of the power which the Church and
its hierarchy possessed. The unity of the Empire,
which was the ruling idea of his life, would suggest to
him the plan of making the compact unity of the
Church contribute thereto. Reminiscences of Hea-
thenism confirmed this purpose. Since the Emperor
had been at the head of the heathen religion, how could
he, now that the Empire had become Christian, fail
to occupy a similar position without endangering his
supremacy over the realm? How could he be simply
CHAP, m.] INTERFERENCE WITH THE CHURCH. 449
a spectator, when, in the Arian controversy, the unity
of the Church was threatened with dissolution ? Thus
Constantino began to interfere in the internal affairs
of the Church. He called the council of Nicaea, he
confirmed its decrees, and provided for their execution
even with political machinery.^ The Emperor deter-
mined what doctrines were to prevail in the Church, and
banished Arius to-day and Athanasius to-morrow. And
there were plenty of bishops who were content with this
state of things, and recognized the Emperor as a kind
of Pontifex Maximus over the Church, — only " a bishop
over the external affairs of the Church,"* Constantino
modestly called himself. For the Church was indeed
surfeited with property and privileges. The Emperor,
a poor financier, impoverished the Empire to enrich
the Church. While the provinces were groaning under
the pressure of taxation, money never was lacking to
build a splendid church, or to buy costly robes or sacred
vessels and richly adorned Bibles for a bishop. The
bishops had the freedom of the imperial palace, they
accompanied the conqueror into camp and battle ;
gold and honors were liberally bestowed upon them,
and some of them at least were not ashamed to reward
the "pious Emperor" (now his regular designation)
with flattery. Byzantinism was already present in germ,
and had begun to exert its power. Both the purity and
the freedom of the Church were in danger of being
lost. State and Church were beginning an amalgama-
tion fraught with peril. The State was becoming a
kind of Church, and the Church a kind of State. The
Emperor preached and summoned councils, called him-
self, though half in jest, "a bishop," and the bishops
had become State officials, who, like the high dignitaries
450 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
of the Empire, travelled by the imperial courier-service,
and frequented the ante-chambers of the palaces in
Constantinople. The power of the State was used to
the full in order to furnish a Propaganda for the
Church, and in return the Church was drawn into the
service of the State. Even at this time we find decrees
of councils which threaten civil oifences with ecclesias-
tical penalties, and, on the other hand, the bishops were
invested with a considerable part of the administration
of civil justice.^
Yet we should, I think, be in error, were we, on
account of these mistakes, to regard the whole work
of Constantine as a failure. Apart from all else, it is
asking too much to expect, that State and Church
would immediately assume their proper relations as
soon as they first entered into an alliance. For indeed
we are still endeavoring to solve this, the greatest
problem of the world's history. But the recognition
of what Constantine did ought not to hinder us from
realizing the mistakes that were made, and the perni-
cious consequences for the Church which necessarily
resulted. These errors paved the way for the re-action
attempted by Julian, and let us say now, that what the
Church suffered from the apostate Emperor was a well-
deserved discipline.
The state of affairs became much worse under the sons
of Constantine, who had inherited his bad qualities, am-
bition, harshness, and cruelty, rather than his good char-
acteristics, and especially his statesmanship. All times
in which a great revolution is accomplished bring many
forms of corruption to the surface, and this period was
no exception to the rule. It now became the fashion
at the imperial court to be zealous for Christianity. He
CHAP, m.] HEATHENISM PERSECUTED. 451
who wished to attain any success, had first and foremost
to prove himself sound in this respect. Any appear-
ance of lukewarmness towards Christianity, not to
speak of inclination towards Heathenism, created a sus-
picion of political unsoundness. Many of the new con-
verts, who but yesterday had been heathen, knew no
better way of proving the sincerity of their conversion
than by exhibiting fanatical hatred towards the religion
whose adherents they would certainly still have re-
mained, had not their imperial master become a Chris-
tian. Ambitious priests crowded around the Emperors,
and sought to make themselves prominent, in order to
gain wealth and station by the imperial favor. Zeal,
which was rash though perhaps not ill-meaning, thought
to do service to the Church by urging to deeds of
violence against Heathenism, without realizing that the
power of the world which bitterly opposes the Church
cannot do it so much injury as those who endeavor to
come to the rescue by worldly means. Men seemed
to have wholly forgotten how long and earnestly the
Christians had demanded religious freedom. Now that
they had come into power, they refused their opponents
the benefit of the freedom which they had won. Those
who but now were persecuted became persecutors.
'' Emperors ! " one of their spokesmen exhorts the sons
of Constantine, " the temples must be overthrown and
utterly destroyed in order that the pernicious error may
no longer pollute the Roman world. The Supreme
God has committed the government to you in order
that you may cure this cancer. When the temples
have been destroyed, and no trace remains of Heathen-
ism, you will have conquered your enemies and extended
your Empire."®
452 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book in.
At first the three brothers, among whom Constan-
tine had divided the Empire, were fully occupied
with their family feuds. But, when Constantine II.
had fallen, and the other two, Constans and Constantius,
had become supreme rulers, the former over the West
and the latter over the East, they really had recourse
to violent measures against Heathenism. A law pro-
mulgated in A. D. 341 proclaimed : " The heathen su-
perstition must cease, the madness of offering sacrifices
must be extirpated ; whoever contrary to this law dares
to offer sacrifices shall suffer punishment without
mercy." ^ Still more severe was the legislation of
Constantius when he became sole ruler after the death
of Constans : " The temples everywhere are to be closed,
in order to deprive the heathen of the opportunity of
sinning. He who offers sacrifices shall be struck down
by the avenging sword, his property shall fall to the
State treasury." ^ Though this law could not be strictly
enforced, yet in many places the images of the gods
were broken in pieces, and the temples closed, com-
pletely dismantled, or converted into Christian churches.
Base passions mingled in this work. The property of
the temples was partly stolen, partly came into the
possession of the churches, and often might be seen in
Christian houses of worship the glitter of gold and
jewels which had formerly adorned heathen idols.
Those w^ho still adhered to Heathenism were compelled
to conceal themselves. The agents of the police searched
in every place, and those who took part in a secret sac-
rifice, or even wore a heathen amulet, were liable to
suffer death .^
These measures had the result always reached when,
in the conflict of spiritual forces, the party for the time
CHAP, m.] LATENT POWER OF HEATHENISM. 453
being in power resorts to the employment of force.
At first every thing gives way, and it looks as if the
goal sought were to be reached easily and without labor.
But if the opponent still possesses any power of resist-
ance, this will gradually increase as a result of the at-
tack; those who belong to that party come to know
one another, and unite against the common foe. Then
if circumstances favor them, especially if they find the
right man for a leader, it may happen that the situation
is suddenly reversed to the condemnation of those who
attempt to wage a spiritual conflict with the weapons
of the flesh.
Heathenism still possessed a latent power greater
than those supposed who persuaded the Emperors that
now it could be easily extirpated. The state of affairs
in the West differed from that in the East. In the
West it was principally the Roman aristocracy, who
with few exceptions still adhered to their ancient reli-
gion, and with them the great mass of the people. In
the East, on the contrary, Christianity had made much
more progress among the masses, and a real aristocracy
could scarcely be said to exist. In its stead there was
an aristocracy of learning, whose hostility was far more
dangerous to Christianity than the aversion of the
Roman nobility. The youth still thronged to the
ancient and illustrious schools of Miletus, Ephesus,
Nicomedia, Antioch, and above all Athens, and the
teachers in these schools were almost without exception
heathen. There the ancient classics were studied, and
the eloquence of a Libanius and of other highly cul-
tured rhetoricians of the age was enjoyed. There the
ancient heathen spirit was imbibed, and with it a con-
tempt for barbarian Christianity. The doctrinal strife in
454 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
the Christian Church was held up to ridicule, and, alas I
with too much reason. For, according to the Emperor's
favor and caprice, one doctrine stood for orthodoxy to-
day and another to-morrow. To-day it was decreed that
Christ was of the same essence with the Father, and
all who refused to acknowledge this were deposed
and exiled. To-morrow the court theology had swung
round, it was decreed that Christ was a created being,
and now it was the turn of the other party to go into
banishment. The educated heathen thought themselves
elevated far above all this in their classic culture.
With what secret anger they beheld the way in which
the temples were laid waste, the works of art broken
to pieces, the memorials of an age of greatness destroyed,
and all in favor of a barbarian religion destitute of cul-
ture. The old rude forms of Heathenism, indeed, they
themselves did not desire, but the refined Heathenism
of the Neoplatonic school seemed to them not merely
the equal but the superior of Christianity. For they
believed that in it they possessed whatever of truth
Christianity contained, only in a much more refined
form, wedded to culture and filled with the classic
spirit. So they revelled in reminiscences of the bygone
glory of Hellas and Rome, and fondly cherished the
hope that better times would one day come, that the
triumph of Christianity might be only of a transitory
nature, and that the "Adonis-gardens " which Constan-
tine had planted would soon wither.
These were the sources of the re-action against Chris-
tianity. Their spirit was embodied in Julian. In him
it ascended for the last time the imperial throne, and
made the final attempt to stop the triumphal progress
of Christianity. But it succeeded only in giving to the
CHAP, m.] JULIAN'S EDUCATION. 455
world irresistible evidence that the sceptre of the spirit
of Antiquity was forever broken.
Flavins Claudius Julianus was the son of Constan-
tius, brother to Constantine, therefore a nephew of the
great Emperor. His mother died when he was young,
and he lost his father and all his near relatives, except
his brother Gallus, in the bloody quarrels which devas-
tated the imperial house after the death of Constantine.
He himself was saved only by his youth ; he was still
an object of perpetual suspicion to the party in power,
and this the more as his extraordinary and universal
gifts began early to manifest themselves. The Emperor
Constantius also began to regard him with distrust, and
the result was that Julian in his fourteenth year was
banished from Constantinople, conveyed to the castle
of Macella in Cappadocia, and there closely guarded.^''
For a noble nature, and such was Julian's through and
through, there is nothing more dangerous than thus to
grow up under the burden of suspicion and in the midst
of intriguing factions. Such a nature is driven, contrary
to its essential character, into deceit. Julian learned
from his early youth to conceal his real thoughts ; he
was compelled to cultivate systematically a hypocrisy
which afterwards became the worst trait of his charac-
ter. Worse still, it was thought in Constantinople that
the best way to deprive Constantino's nephew of all
political importance was to destine him for the Church.
He was carefully cut off from all contact with Heathen-
ism, his whole education was confided to ecclesiastics,
and assumed a character severely religious. His time
was divided between studies and services, even his
recreation was an exercise of devotion. In his leisure
hours Julian had to build a chapel to the martyr
456 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book hi.
Mamas ^^ as a kind of amusement. That this training
accomplished the opposite of what was attempted, need
not surprise us, especially when we bear in mind what
kind of a Christianity it was which was forcibly poured
into the youth as with a funnel, — dogmatic contro-
versy rather than heart-faith, dead ceremony rather
than spiritual life. Julian never learned to know
true Christianity: the imperial court was the worst
imaginable place, and his training in captivity the worst
imaginable means, for acquiring such knowledge. On
the contrary he became even thus early estranged from
Christianity. He would naturally hate a religion whose
representatives had murdered his family, and whose
priests were his jailers. Of course he did not dare to
exhibit any signs of this disgust, but outwardly showed
himself a zealous Christian, and even went so far as to
enter the lowest grade of clerical orders. He became
a reader in the Church,^^ and obtained the reputation
of peculiar piety.
Even to the Emperor Constantius he now appeared
not dangerous. He was set at liberty again, and spent
some time in Constantinople, where the Sophist Hece-
bolius (a man at bottom wholly indifferent in religious
matters, but who had become a zealous Christian for
the sake of obtaining favor at court ^^) strove to fill
Julian with contempt for the heathen gods, but evi-
dently exercised no favorable influence over him. Then
he was even permitted to go to Nicomedia in order
to study philosophy and rhetoric there. But he had to
give a promise to his teacher Hecebolius that he would
not hear Libanius, the chief representative of the party
which included the heathen philosophers and rhetori-
cians.^* That which was forbidden became only the
CHAP. III.] JULIAN AND THE HELLENISTS. 457
more attractive. Julian did keep his promise of not
hearing Libanius, but he the more zealously studied his
writings, and soon had established personal or epistolary
relations with the chief men of those circles of heathen
culture which have been described.^^ They conjured up
all the splendor of the ancient world before his eyes,
they opened the classics to him, and speedily won the
youth for the ideas in which they lived. With what
eagerness did he now study Plato and Aristotle ; what
inspiration he now drew from listening to the revela-
tions of the Neoplatonic philosophy ; with what a holy
awe was he filled by the magic arts, the practice of
which was a favorite pursuit in these circles I Here he
believed himself to have found that for which his soul
long had languished. How could men give up all this
splendor for the sake of barbarian Christianity ! It
may be regarded as certain that Julian even then, in
A. D. 351, returned to Heathenism, and, beside the
rhetoricians of Nicomedia, it was principally the aged
and illustrious Neoplatonist, Maximus of Ephesus who
brought about his perversion.^^
What influenced Julian was chiefly enthusiasm for
Greek culture. Even in a religious aspect Polytheism
seemed to him superior to Monotheism, because more
philosophic. Neoplatonism filled the whole soul of the
young enthusiast, and seemed to him to comprehend all
the culture of the ancient world in a unified system.
But of course his vanity had a great share in the mat-
ter, for he naturally received the most devoted homage
among the Hellenists, and his rhetorical friends did not
stint their flattery. Under the forcible measures then
adopted by Constantius against the ancient faith, the
heathen party had become more closely consolidated,
468 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
and already cherished various schemes for the restora-
tion of Heathenism, while Julian was already looked
upon as the man who was one day to realize them.^^
He had, it is true, still studiously to conceal his predi-
lection for Heathenism, and to appear outwardly as a
zealous Christian and an admirer of Constantius; but
his friends hoped for a time when he would be able to
come forward openly in his true character, and that
time was to come more speedily than even their
boldest hopes could anticipate. Suddenly and unex-
pectedly to Julian, he was called away from his classic
studies, and given a place in practical political life.
Things looked dark in the Empire. On the South-
east the Persians were moving to the attack; on the
North-west the Germans were pressing on, and had
already overrun part of Gaul. Constantius stood almost
alone, such gaps had family feuds made with poison
and the sword in the once flourishing house of Constan-
tino. Julian alone survived, after Gallus, his brother,
had been murdered.
The Emperor determined to call Julian to his assist-
ance. He was made Coesar^ and invested with the
supreme command over the troops in Gaul. Julian was
to repulse the Germans, while the Emperor undertook
the defence of the eastern frontier against the Per-
sians.^^ With startling rapidity did the young Caesar
now develop his wonderful gifts. He who had hitherto
lived only for study, soon showed himself an able
general and a sagacious ruler. Conscientiously dividing
his time between the studies which he even now did
not neglect, and his duties as a ruler, a model of sim-
plicity in his way of living, pure and austere in his
morality, sharing every danger and every fatigue with
CHAP. III.] JULIAN COMES TO THE THRONE. 459
his soldiers,^^ he succeeded by a series of victorious
battles in driving the Germans back over the Rhine,
and in bringing peace to Gaul. Deified by his soldiers,
he was also held in high honor by the inhabitants of the
province. This aroused again the old suspicions in
Constantinople, carefully as Julian avoided all that
could provoke the Emperor, and studiously as he con-
cealed his Heathenism above all. For while, in the
select circle of his trusted friends, the ancient gods
were still worshipped in the palace of Julian, he still
appeared in public as a Christian.^^
In order to prevent his becoming too powerful, the
Emperor near the end of A. D. 360 recalled from Gaul
the best legions, which were under Julian's command,
nominally because he needed to use them against the
Persians.^^ The legions refused to march, and pro-
claimed Julian Augustus. Even now Julian tried to
placate Constantius; but, when the attempt proved
fruitless, when Julian saw that it was a matter of life
and death with him, he assumed the rank of Emperor,
and advanced at the head of his army. He had already
reached Dacia, when the news met him that Constan-
tius had died Nov. 3, 361, on the march against the Per-
sians. Without further resistance the whole Empire
recognized Julian as Emperor, and he hastened to Con-
stantinople. He made his entry there as a declared
heathen. Although at the beginning of his campaign
he had secretly sacrificed to Bellona, yet he had at-
tended the church in Vienne.'-^ But on the march he
put an end to all ambiguity, and publicly offered sac-
rifices to the ancient gods. The Roman Empire once
more had a heathen Emperor.
At first all was joy ; for as universally as Constantius
460 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
was hated, Julian was welcomed as a deliverer. ' Even
the Christians joined in this rejoicing. They too had
found the arbitrary government of the last few years
hard enough to bear. And if some who looked deeper
began to feel anxiety, they consoled themselves by the
reflection that even a heathen Emperor could not in-
jure the Church so much as a Christian Emperor who
used his power in promoting whatever seemed to him
at the time to be orthodoxy in the dogmatic contro-
versies of the age. And Julian proclaimed, not the
suppression of Christianity, but only complete religious
liberty .2^ He himself intended to be a heathen, but no
Christian should be disturbed in his faith.
Julian was certainly thoroughly in earnest in this.
To be a persecutor of the Church, was the last
thing he would have thought of. Besides, he was much
too fully persuaded of the untruth of Christianity
and the truth of Heathenism to persecute. Julian was
an. enthusiast, like all the rhetoricians and philoso-
phers who surrounded him. He regarded himself
as called by a divine voice to the great work of restor-
ing Heathenism, and this was from the beginning avow-
edly his object. And he was no less firmly convinced
that this restoration would work itself out without
any use of force ; as soon as free scope was given to
Heathenism it Avould, by its own powers, overcome Chris-
tianity. If the heathen would only cultivate their
religion studiously, perform its rites zealously, and lead
lives well-pleasing to the gods, then without doubt
the Christians would become converted, and recognize
the truth of Heathenism.
The Emperor himself was evidently in all respects a
heathen from sincere conviction. In this regard at least
CHAP, m.] .JULIAN'S AUSTEEITY AND PIETY. 461
he was honest and no hypocrite. The flagrant volup-
tuousness, which had corrupted the court, was ban-
ished, and a large number of useless officials dismissed.^*
The life of the court was to be simple, austere, and
pure. Men had never before seen an Emperor who
conducted himself with such simplicity, whose table
was so economically supplied, and who knew no other
employments than hard work, and devoted worship of
the gods. A temple was built in the palace, and there
Julian offered a daily sacrifice.-^ Often he might be
seen serving at the sacrifice himself, carrying the wood
and plunging the knife into the victim with his own
hand.2^ He remembered every festival wliich should be
celebrated, and knew how to observe the whole half-
forgotten ritual most punctiliously.
He was equally zealous in performing the duties of
his office as Pontifex Maximus. Everywhere he revived
the ancient worship which had fallen into neglect.
Here a closed temple was re-opened, there a ruined
shrine restored, images of the gods were set up again,
and festivals which had ceased to be celebrated, were
restored. In this way, Julian was certain, Heathenism
would be sure to renew its life. He expressly rejected
all use of force. At the beginning of his reign he
wrote to Artabius, one of the provincial governors, that
he did not wish the Christians to be unjustly beaten
and killed ; and' in a letter dated from Antioch, and
therefore of the latter part of his reign, he forbids the
compulsion of the Christians by force to attend the
temples. " Blows and bodily injuries," he says, " are
not the means by which to change a man's convictions."
To him the Christian religion seemed an error which
deserved pity, not hatred ; a foolishness, a madness,
462 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book in.
which indeed must be cured against the will of the
patient. " Though it is possible," he affirms, " to cure
bodily sicknesses by violent operations, yet errors con-
cerning the nature of God cannot be destroyed either
by fire or steel. What does it profit if the hand does
sacrifice, when the mind condemns the hand ? It is
only a new disguise outwardly applied, not a change of
conviction." ^^ Who would not agree with these senti-
ments ? But it is of course another question whether or
not Julian would be able to keep within the limits here
so truly and wisely laid down.
Julian certainly did not wish to use force, yet he was
much pleased when any one became convinced of the
truth of Heathenism; and though his purpose was to
leave to each the fullest liberty of choice, yet he must
have been less convinced of the truth of his own posi-
tion than he was, to have refrained from striving to win
over others. His conduct at the funeral of Constan-
tius was characteristic. He left to the Christians per-
fect liberty, he did not interfere, though in many
churches the plaint over the death of the Christian
Emperor became a complaint against his heathen suc-
cessor; but he himself went through the burial cere-
monies in honor of the deceased according to heathen
ritual. When he had poured out the libation he invited
the bystanders to follow his example. Those who did
so were cordially greeted by him; those who refused
were not compelled, they were free to do as they chose,
yet the friendly smile with which he answered their
refusal had something suspicious in it. Of course it
was not long before one and another among those at
court, who had hitherto been zealous Christians, and
perhaps within a short time had ardently striven in
CHAP. III.] PERVERSIONS TO HEATHENISM. 463
behalf of the Nicene or the Arian views, made the dis-
covery that after all Heathenism was really preferable
to Christianity. They had hardly been men, had it
failed to be so ; and the enthusiastic Julian really be-
lieved that their conversion was his work, especially
when the more cunning courtiers managed to delay a
short time, and allow the Emperor to declaim at great
length about the glory of the ancient religion, before
the new light dawned upon them. "What joy he expe-
rienced each time that one of the more illustrious indi-
viduals was won over to the ancient gods ; and though
he did not dismiss from his court any Christian solely
for religious reasons, it was yet only natural that those
who shared his views should stand in the most intimate
relations with him. Soon conversions became plentiful;
governors, officials, soldiers, made themselves proficient
in the ancient cultus; and even a bishop, Pegasius of
New Ilium, whom Julian had previously learned to
know as a secret friend of the gods, when he had
been the Emperor's guide to the classic sites of Troy,
changed his religion, and from a Christian bishop be-
came a heathen high-priest.^^ The long-closed doors
of the temples were opened anew in many towns, and
the altars of the gods now smoked again where their
fires had long been extinguished. Julian really ima-
gined that Heathenism was beginning to revive, and the
temptation became very great to assist it by some little
devices which were not quite honorable. But men, and
especially enthusiasts, only too easily justify bad means
by good ends. For instance, it was a favorite plan to
put an image of a god by the side of the Emperor's
statue. Those who paid the customary reverence to
the Emperor might easily be regarded as having offered
464 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book ra.
worship to the god ; and, on the other hand, those who
did not bow before the god invited the suspicion of dis-
loyalty towards the Emperor.^^
In the army this policy was carried still further.
Military and religious ceremonies had always been min-
gled, and the strictness of military discipline naturally
limited religious libert}^ The monogram of Christ,
which the standards had borne since Constantine, was
banished, and its place was taken by the ancient Roman
S. P. Q. R.^° When the soldiers received their gratui-
ties, a portable altar was placed at the side of the impe-
rial throne, and near the altar a little box filled with
incense. The soldiers were ordered to come forward
one by one, and receive each his congiarium. Each one
as he approached was expected to take a few grains of
incense, and throw them into the fire on the altar. The
Christians among the soldiers held back and delayed,
but the officers emphatically assured them that it was an
entirely innocent ceremony, since there was no image on
the altar. Most of them allowed themselves to be per-
suaded, and did as they were bidden ; a few preferred
to go without the congiarium. Afterwards at the fes-
tal banquet the Christian soldiers crossed themselves as
was their wont. Their heathen comrades laughed, and
when asked the reason replied mockingly : " We laugh
because you are still praying to Jesus Christ the moment
after having denied him." The Christians sprang up
in horror, now that they perceived the snare which had
been set for them. Many of them rent their garments,
and ran into the town, crying : " We are Christians !
Every one may know it! If our hands have denied,
our hearts have not ! " A crowd collected before the
imperial palace. Some went so fay as to throw down
CHAP, ni.] RELIGIOUS ORDEAL FOR THE ARMY. 465
at the Emperor's feet the money, which they were said
to have gained by denial. The Emperor was placed
in an unfortunate position. His purpose had not
been exactly to seduce the soldiers into open denial of
their faith ; he regarded the ceremony perhaps as inno-
cent, but it was ambiguous and instituted for the pur-
pose of gradually accustoming the soldiers to cere-
monies of that kind. If now the Emperor should
punish these tumultuous soldiers, it might look like a
persecution, and Julian did not wish that. If he left
them unpunished, then military discipline would be im-
perilled. The Emperor arrested and condemned some
soldiers, but expressly declared that this was not be-
cause they were Christians, but because they had revolt-
ed from their standards. Nevertheless all Constanti-
nople was in an uproar. Immense crowds accompanied
the soldiers to the place of execution; they were al-
ready honored as martyrs. Then Julian judged it best
to pardon them.^^ But the consecxuences of the event
were not averted by this. The mistrust of the Chris-
tians was now awakened against the Emperor, and
would not be disarmed. Julian himself was hurried
onward. That which he had hitherto not intended,
was now carried out : all the higher officers who were
Christians were removed or dismissed, and all Christians
were rejected from the service of the court.^^ The gulf
which separated the heathen Emperor from his Chris-
tian subjects had become visible.
A still worse influence was exercised by certain laws
which Julian enacted ^^ in order to correct the injustice
of his predecessor, but which, as he well knew, were
certain to affect the Christians most. Under the pre-
text of impartial justice, these laws concealed an injury
466 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
to the Church, and Julian secretly rejoiced that it was
so. Under Constantius the property of the communes
had often been taken from them and arbitrarily applied
to other purposes. Now all was to be restored, and
that without any compensation to those now in posses-
sion. The property concerned had been partly used to
meet the expenditure of the Emperor, but also, in part,
to build churches. Temples had been changed into
churches, and were now to be given back to the heathen
cultus. Temples which had been destroyed were to be
rebuilt, or their estimated value repaid out of the
treasuries of the churches. Even private individuals
who had bought in good faith the temple-lands were
compelled to make restitution. Gold and gems which
had formerly ornamented any image of the gods, but
now adorned chalices, crosses, and evangelistaries in the
churches, were to be broken out and restored to their
former uses.^* And this law was enforced with ruthless
severity. For the governors knew that they would
thereby gain favor with the Emperor, and the heathen
mob already began to help here and there.
Julian not only rejoiced in this, and did nothing to
soften the rigor of the law, but he even expressly
approved of it, and mockingly said: "Indeed, the Gali-
leans should rejoice : does not the command of the Gos-
pel enjoin them to suffer evil?"^^ On the part of the
Christians, fanaticism began to blaze up, and the first
blood was shed. In Doristera, a town of Thrace, a
Christian church had been changed back into a heathen
temple; idols stood once more where the cross had
been placed. On the eve of the day when the temple
was to be dedicated with a great heathen festival, a
Christian broke into the church and destroyed the
CHAP. III.] HEATHENISM NOT REALLY REVIVED. 467
idols. Then he gave himself up, and was executed.
The Christians honored him as a new martyr.
The dream of a restoration of Heathenism neverthe-
less soon began to prove itself a dream. Though now
surrounded by heathen only, Julian could not help
feeling that he was really isolated in their midst. He
himself was naturally a mystic, and lived in his ideals.
His Heathenism was one purified by poetic feeling.
But there was little or nothing of this to be found actu-
ally existing. His heathen friends were courtiers, who
agreed with him without inward conviction ; empty
rhetoricians, who sought only the glory of saying fine
things; men wholly indifferent and destitute of reli-
gion; or merry companions, whose first object was
amusement, and who were glad to be released from the
restraints of Christianity, but not under the penalty of
submitting to still more rigorous restrictions from the
Heathenism of their ruler. The Emperor was far from
satisfied with his adherents. He often gave them severe
lectures, accused them of being cold and indifferent,
and blamed their license. They were no better satisfied
with him. He was far too serious and severely moral
for their tastes. They preferred the theatre to the
temple, they liked amusement best, and found the
daily attendance at worship and the monotonous cere-
monies and sacrifices very dull. A measurably tolerant
Christian Emperor would doubtless have suited them
better than this enthusiastically pious heathen. Blinded
as Julian was by his ideal views, he soon could not
escape the knowledge that things were not going well.
If Heathenism was to revive, it must receive new life
within. The restoration must be also a reformation.
Strangely enough Julian felt compelled to borrow
468 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
from Christianity the ways and means for such a refor-
mation. The heathen priests, like the Christian, were
to instruct the people, and exhort them to holy living.
The heathen, like the Christians, were to care for the
poor. " If our religion," he writes to the high-priest
of Galatia, " does not make the progress we could wish,
the blame lies with those who profess it. The gods
have done great things for us, above our hopes and
petitions. But is it right that we should be satisfied
with their favors, and neglect those things which the
impiety of the Christians has cultivated, their hospi-
tality to strangers, their care of the graves, their holi-
ness of life? We should earnestly seek all these
things." And then he proceeds to give the high-priest
directions to instruct the people, to purge the priest-
hood from unworthy members, to prohibit the priests
from going to the theatre and frequenting the taverns.
Above all, he was to provide for the exercise of benevo-
lence among the heathen as it was practised among the
Christians. Alms-houses and hospitals were to be built,
and the needy assisted. The Emperor himself appro-
priated abundant means, but the villages were also to
be urged to auxiliary contributions. " We ought not,"
the Emperor says in conclusion, "to allow others to
appropriate our virtues while the shame of indolence
falls upon us. This may be called despising the wor-
ship of the gods." ^®
While new strength was thus to be infused into
Heathenism, other measures were adopted to weaken
Christianity. An imperial edict, June 17, A. D. 362,^^
forbade the Christians to act as teachers of the national
literature, the ancient classics. It was, the Emperor
explained,^^ a contradiction for Christians to expound
CHAP, m.] CHRISTIANS CUT OFF FROM CULTURE. 469
Homer, Thucjdides, or Demosthenes, when they re-
garded them as godless men and aliens. He would not
compel them to change their convictions, but also he
could not permit the ancient writers to be expounded
by those who took them to task for impiety. " If ye,"
he adds, " recognize any wisdom in the ancients, then
prove it by imitating their piety towards the gods. But
if, on the contrary, you believe that all their opinions
are false, then go into the churches of the Galileans, and
expound Matthew and Luke." It is true, this edict pro-
hibited the Christians only from teaching the national
literature, not from becoming the pupils of heathen
teachers.^^ But this would necessarily be the imme-
diate consequence. For when the Christians were pre-
vented from teaching, the instruction came wholly into
the hands of the heathen, and thereby gained a char-
acter so specifically heathen, and came into so avowed
an antagonism to Christianity, that Christians could no
longer be even hearers at such lectures. Thus the
consequences of the edict reached much farther than
its immediate scope. It cut the Christians off from all
culture, and became to them an actual prohibition of
culture. Thus also they were excluded from all the
higher offices which required education ; they were ex-
communicated from the society of educated men. This
was just what Julian wished. To the complainants he
answered : " Keep your ignorance ; eloquence is ours.
Your doctrine has only one word : Believe ! Then be
content with faith."'*" He expressly declared that the
worshippers of the Carpenter, the followers of the fish-
ermen,^^ had no claim to culture.
This, of course, was not a persecution, if the use of
force alone makes a persecution, yet it was a persecu-
470 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book in.
tion, and in a sense a worse one than any which went
before. Julian tried to deprive the Christians of that
which should be common to all men, — education ; he
disputed their right to the intellectual property of the
nation. They were really no longer to be treated as
men.'*^ Julian had already gone as far as this. Never-
theless he had to confess to himself that the restoration
of Heathenism was making no progress worth speaking
of, but that on the contrary the aversion to it increased
steadily. And, though he was too proud to pay much
regard to this, yet his own feelings became daily more
excited and imbittered. He found himself more and
more isolated in the world to which he had tried to
present the best thing he knew, — the classic heritage
of Greece, — only to discover that the world had no
taste for it. He spent his whole strength, he sacrificed
himself, he lived only for the Empire over which Provi-
dence had made him lord, and yet found himself alone
in his endeavor. Even his heathen friends, the philoso-
phers and rhetoricians, kept at a distance.. He had
invited them. Very few came; most, and those the
principal ones, excused themselves. Had they too no
longer any heart in the matter, concerning which he
and they had once been so enthusiastic at Nicomedia
and Athens ? Or did they already despair of the suc-
cess of his work ?
With such thoughts as these, Julian journeyed to
Antioch, in Syria, in order to make preparations there
for the great campaign he purposed to make against the
Persians. There new disappointments awaited him.
He found the shrines of his gods forsaken and desolate.
The grove of Daphne in the neighborhood of the city,
once a famous sanctuary of Apollo, and where oracles
CHAP. III.] GROVE OF DAPHNE NEAR ANTIOCH. 471
had been imparted at the sacred spring, was in a deplor-
able condition. The spring was filled up, the temple in
ruins. In the grove itself was a Christian chapel in
which rested the bones of the martyr Babylas. Julian
commanded the immediate restoration of the temple,
and the exhuming of the martyr's bones. The Chris-
tians obeyed, but as in solemn procession they carried
the relics to another church, Julian could not help hear-
ing them sing, in full chorus, the words of the Psalm
(xcvii. 7) : " Confounded be all they that serve graven
images, that boast themselves of idols." ^^ Starting up
in a rage, Julian ordered some soldiers to attack the
procession. They arrested some of the Christians, and
he was about to order their execution, but came to him-
self, and discharged them. His noble nature showed
itself once more ; he did not wish to persecute.
The temple of Apollo was restored with the greatest
splendor. Julian went there to offer a sacrifice to the
god. He expected to find a multitude of worshippers,
but no one even brought oil for a lamp or incense to
burn in honor of the deity. Only an old man ap-
proached to sacrifice a goose.^'^ It did not help matters
when Julian gave the Antiochians a long lecture on the
subject of this neglect of the god.^^ It only exposed
him the more to their biting gibes. They called him
" the Bear " because of his long beard ; they scoffed at
the frequency of his offerings, saying that it was no
wonder that meat was getting dear, when the Emperor
himself was the butcher.''^ Shortly afterwards, the newly
restored temple burned down in the night.^^ Now the
Emperor's wrath knew no bounds. He ascribed the
guilt to the Christians ; and although the temple, as is
probable, caught fire through the fault of a heathen
472 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book in
philosopher, who carried a dedicatory lamp about in
it without due precautions,^^ many Christians were
arrested and tortured. The Church had its martyrs
once more ; and Julian, discontented with himself and
the whole world besides, advanced to new measures.
The cathedral of Antioch was closed and its property
confiscated.^^ Julian decreed that the Christians, whose
God had forbidden them to kill, should not be intrusted
with any office with which judicial functions were con-
nected.^" He explained that the Galileans were not to
be persecuted, but pious men were to be preferred.
This was enough to exclude the Christians from all
offices.^^ Day and night the sacrifices smoked, and their
flesh was distributed to the soldiers. Some of them
murmured at it. Julian had them arrested and exe-
cuted.^^ In front of the great fountain in Antioch, an
altar was erected, and the spring was solemnly dedicated
to all the gods. Then with this water they sprinkled
the market, and the provisions which were brought
thither, the meat and the vegetables ; and Julian en-
joyed the thought that now the Christians could not eat
or drink any thing without polluting themselves with
the water consecrated to the idols.^'' It seemed as if the
times of Galerius had come back. Worse still was the
Christians' lot in the provinces. In many places the
heathen gathered, and plundered and killed the Chris-
tians. Julian everywhere took the side of the heathen.
"What does it matter," said he, "is it then a crime if
one Greek kills ten Galileans ? " ^* Of course such
words, from the Emperor, were the signal for fresh
persecutions; and Julian permitted it to be so.
More and more heavy became the atmosphere of
Antioch. What happened was exaggerated by report.
CHAP, m.] JULIAN'S FOREBODINGS. 473
Every night, it was narrated, the Emperor had some
Christians executed, and in the morning their bodies
floated down the Orontes.^^ Julian himself became more
and more restless. He hurried from temple to temple,
brought sacrifice after sacrifice ; he knelt for hours
before his gods and covered their statues with kisses.
Then at night he sat in the silence at his writing-table,
and gave vent to his bitterness and disgust with every
thing. Then he wrote his works full of brilliant wit,
thought out and expressed with Greek refinement, but
full of bitterest hatred especially against the Galileans
and their Carpenter's Son. Writing did not make him
calmer, but only more restless and bitter.
Finally, his immense preparations for the campaign
against the Persians were finished. Julian started,
after finally setting over the Antiochians a wretch as
governor, with the remark, that the man did not deserve
to be a governor, but they deserved to be governed by
such a one.^ The campaign was to be like that of a
second Alexander. Julian purposed ridding the Empire
forever of its most dangerous enemy. The heathen
set all their hopes on this campaign. If the Emperor
returned victorious, then the victory of Heathenism
was assured. The Christians were silent. The thrill
as of an expected judgment of God went through the
world. When the rhetorician Libanius scornfully asked
a Christian priest, " What is your Carpenter's Son doing
now?" the other replied, "He is now making a coffin
for your Emperor." ^^ Julian, too, felt gloomj^ fore-
bodings. His ever-increasing superstitiousness sought
for signs, and saw signs, in every thing. Now various
deformities in the sacrificial victims filled his soul with
anxiety, or his horse shied, or he discovered some other
evil omen,
474 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
This mood passed as soon as he stood at the head
of his army. The commander awoke within him once
more. He had sketched a bold plan, and at first all
went according to his wishes.^^ The legions advanced
victoriously Eastward as far as the Tigris. Ctesiphon
was taken after a brilliant passage at arms. Prudent
men among the Emperor's counsellors now advised him
to be content with these fruits of victory, but Julian's
restless spirit urged him forward. Just as he, living
wholly in reminiscences of the past, had taken the
ancient heroes for his examples, so he now determined
to imitate Alexander. In order to exclude all thoughts
of retreat, he burned his fleet upon the Tigris. Then
the army was compelled to advance. They marched
on and on into the great plains. The enemy was not
to be seen; the Persian light horse retreated further
and further. Thus the position of the Romans became
each day more critical ; they were continually receding
from their bases of supply. The soldiers began to
murmur. Vainly did Julian represent to them in elo-
quent words that to retreat was much more perilous
than to advance, vainly he showed them that victory
was near. If the enemy had been in sight before them,
these veteran legions, which he had led to victory on
the Rhine, had followed him. But here in the hot
sandy plains they could not endure dragging themselves
onward day by day without seeing a single foe. With
a heavy heart Julian was forced to command a retreat.
The Persians had waited for this moment. Their troops
of light horse attacked the Romans on every side.^
Ever skirmishing by day and never resting at night,
poorly supplied with provisions, — thus the legions had
to make their way back.
CHAP. III.] JULIAN'S DEATH. 475
Julian could not conceal from himself that his posi-
tion was extremely critical. How discouraged he must
have felt as after the ceaseless efforts of the day, he
lay sleepless in his tent ! What had become of all his
dreams of the restoration of the ancient glory of Greece
and Home ! One morning he sent for the priests, and
said that in the night the Genius of Rome had appeared
to him, just as once before in Gaul during the night be-
fore the day on which the soldiers had proclaimed him
Augustus ; only now the horn of plenty which the
Genius bore was reversed, not held on high as before.
He had sprung up to detain the vision, but the Genius
had left the tent and quickly disappeared. The priests
offered sacrifices, sought for signs, but finally had no
other counsel to give except to avoid a battle if pos-
sible. But how was this possible, when they were sur-
rounded by enemies? That very moment was heard
again the Persian battle-cry. Julian put himself at the
head of the legions, and once more Roman valor sus-
tained its reputation, once more fortune smiled on him.
With desperate courage the legions pressed forward
and gained a complete victory ; with shouts of joy they
escorted the Emperor to his tent. But scarcely had he
laid aside his armor to rest, when again came an attack
of the Persians from another quarter. Without putting
on his armor, Julian hastened to the scene of battle.
Vainly his friends strove to restrain him : in advance of
all the rest he charged the enemy. They had already
begun to waver, when a spear struck the Emperor in
the thigh- With a loud cry he sank to the ground.
Carried to his tent, he lived a few hours longer, and
died in the night of June 26, A. D. 363.^^
At least this was his, a hero's death, one worthy of
476 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
an ancient Roman. It seemed as though the old world
was in him to arise once more in the form of a hero, and
then utterly perish. Julian's fate was deeply tragical.
Richly gifted, daring and courageous, a born general,
eloquent in speech, full of spirit, a noble nature, lord of
himself, and ready to sacrifice all for his country, what
might he not have been ! What might he not have
done for the Empire I But all these rich gifts were
turned to destruction, for himself and for the Empire,
because failing to recognize the ways by which God had
been leading the nations, he attempted to turn back the
current of history : because, possessed with the delusion
of Heathenism, he tried to force it upon the Empire,
after the world had already attained the higher light,
Christianity. The cry with which Julian fell is vari-
ously given. Some say it was : " Nazarene, thou hast
conquered ! " others : " Sun " (Julian was particularly
devoted to the worship of the sun-god), "thou hast
betrayed me I " ^^ Both sources ascribe to him the cry
of a soul undeceived ; and, v/hatever the words may
have been, his thoughts must have been of this nature.
Continuous disappointment, this was the punishment
which Julian had to bear for his offence. For was it
not his own fault, that he was deceived, and continued
to deceive himself and others ? Filled with youthful
enthusiasm he hoped to see the glory of the ancient
world revived, and yet all his labor and zeal did not
avail to kindle one spark of true life in those burnt-
out ashes. He was deluded in holding that the antique
world, in whose behalf he was so enthusiastic, was still
capable of life. He did not mean to persecute, he
meant only to give freedom ; and yet at last he was
driven to act as a tyrant and a persecutor of the
CHAP. III.] JULIAN'S FAILUKE. 4T7
Church. He was deluded in supposing that he could
turn the world back again without the use of force.
After Christianity had once gained the victory, every
form of opposition to it must necessarily end in being
Anti-Christian. Julian's intention at first was to be
simply not a Christian, a heathen, but against his will
he was more and more forced into Anti-Christian an-
tagonism to the Church. His life became a contest
between himself and the Nazarene. This he felt, this
was the cause of his restlessness, of his bitterness and
his deep anxiety. He called for a judgment of God,
and it came in the plains beyond the Tigris.
Even if the fatal spear had not struck him there, yet
his part had been played to the end. Returning with
a defeated army, he would not only have had to renounce
all thoughts of restoring Heathenism, but would have
had dif&culty in maintaining his position on the throne.
Athanasius would have been right in any case. When
during the reign of Julian, the friends of the illustrious
teacher expressed their anxiety and fear, he responded
only: ^^ Nubecula est, timnsihit ! ^' — "It is only a little
cloud, it will pass ! " ^^ Heathenism was to give a proof
that its life was exhausted. That proof was now given.
The re-action under Julian was its last effort ; after that
failed. Heathenism collapsed all the more rapidly. In
Julian, ancient Heathenism fell, crying out : " Nazarene,
thou hast conquered ! " The victory of Christianity
over Heathenism was complete.
Was the victory pure and perfect? Yes, looking
back over the whole conflict, we may say that this vic-
tory was the purest ever won. For it was won by wit-
478 LAST EFFORT OF HEATHENISM. [book m.
nessing and enduring, by loving and suffering, by pour-
ing out innocent blood. But what is pure in this sinful
world ? Even the development of the Church was not
immaculate, even there sin intrudes, though the Lord
governs it, and in spite of human sin, is guiding it to
the goal of perfection. It is sorrowful to see that
already were sown the first seeds of errors, which in
course of time would grow and bring forth other and
different conflicts. During the conflict with Heathenism
a legal element obtained a footing in the Church. This
was later to pervert Christ's institution of grace more
and more into a governmental institution. Already was
laid the foundation of a hierarchy which in the course
of the centuries was, it is true, to render the Church
powerful and glorious, but also to put the Lord Jesus
himself into the background. Already a worldly ele-
ment had penetrated into the Church. In the time of
peace just beginning, this element was to enter more and
more and to render the Church itself worldly. Though
Church and State through Constantine's momentous
achievement had joined hands to work together, yet a
terrible series of conflicts was to come between the two
powers, struggles which held centuries in suspense.
The conflict with external Heathenism was over, the
struggle with the Heathenism in the Church was to
take its place. For though outwardly conquered,
Heathenism was not yet completely subdued within;
but as in each of us " the old man " perpetually fights
against " the new man," so in the history of the Church
the ancient Heathenism is ever rising from the depths
of the natural man to do battle against the new life of
Christianity. This conflict is not ended. The history
of the Church is only the story of this conflict. There-
CHAP. III.] THE CONFLICT OF CHRISTIANITY. 479
fore the peace which the Church won is as yet no per-
fect peace, but only marks a new phase of the struggle,
which is not yet fought out. Indeed, to-day we are in
the midst of it; for stronger almost than ever, the
heathen spirit in modern guise is wrestling against
Christian thought and life, and it almost seems as if the
questions of the time should be gathered up into the
question: "Shall we remain Christians, or become
heathen again?"
May then these pictures from the past heroic age of
the Church serve as instructive illustrations for to-day.
May we above all learn from them, that in the conflict
which we have to wage only one thing is victorious, —
faith, living faith, confessing with joy, working by love,
and enduring in hope. In this faith we, together with
the confessors and martyrs, look forward to a victory
other than that which they won, the victory which the
Lord will bring in His great day. That victory will be
wholly pure, wholly perfect. After that victory comes
no more conflict, but eternal peace.
I^OTES.
BOOK I.. CHAPTER I.
[liotes added by the tnun'Ictors we enclosed in brackets.]
1. Eusebius, H. EccL, iv. 26. Melito, addressing the Emperor,
says : '"Our philosophy first flourished among the barbarians, but
having flowered among the nations under your government during
the glorious reign of Augustus your ancestor, it became, especially to
your dominion, an auspicious blessing. For since that time the
Roman power has grown to greatness and splendor. Whose desired
successor you have become, and Avill be, together with your son, if
you preserve that philosophy which was the foster sister of the
Empire, and began its existei»ce with Augustus'' (r^f {3aoi7Aag ttjv
GVVTpofov Kal avvap^afiiv)]v kvyovoTG) <pi7'.nGo<piav) . 2. De Virtut. et Leg.,
§ 7. 3. [Epigr. i. 67, xiii. 3. Merivale, Hist, of the Romans under
the Empire, vi. 232, sq. ; ]S"orton, Evidences of Gen. of the Gospels,
i. 50, n. ; Ed. Rev., cxxxix. 6, 1874. Pliny, Ep. ix. 11. For the
value of the sesterce see Marquardt u. Mommsen, H'dbuch d. rom.
Alterthiimer, v. 70; De Champagny, Les Cesars du 3° Siecle, 1. 37,
469, sq.] 4. [iii. Eleg. 13. 59-60.] 5. [Germ. 37.] 6. Cf., for the
entire chapter, especially: Friedlander; Darstellungen aus d. Sitten-
geschichte Roms; Boissier, La religion romaine d'Auguste aux
Antonins, Paris, 1874 [2d ed., 1879] ; [Marquardt u. Mommsen,
H'dbuch d. rom. Alterthiimer, Bd. vi. ; Fisher, Beginnings of Chris-
tianity; von Dollinger, Gentile and Jew in the Conrts of the Temple
of- Christ; Merivale, History, c. liv. ; De Champagny, Les Cesars,
T. iii., iv.. Tableau du monde romaine]. 7. [Friedlander, iii. 487.]
8. Sat. 17. 9. Adv. Colotem., c. 31. 10. [Hist. vi. 54.] 11. Suet.
Aug., c. 35. 12. [Boissier, i. 4, sq.; Marq. u. Momm., vi. 5, sq.] 13.
De Anim., c. 39; ad Nat., ii. 11. These names are to be found in
the Indigitamenta, or registers. They are indeed but epithets of the
Deity, and show very plainly the abstract character of religion among
481
482 NOTES. [book I.
the Romans, who lacked fancy, and whose entire nature was thor-
oughly practical. 14. Cato, de re rust, passim. 15. Pro dom., 1. 16.
Cf. Boissier: la relig. rnm., i. 12 (1st ed.). 17. De bell. Gall., vi. 17.
18. Hist, nat., vi. 22. 19. Adv. gentes, vi. 7; " Civitas omnium
numinum cultrix." 20. Macrobius, Sat., iii. 9, 7. [Marq. u. Momm.,
H'dbuch Bd. vi., 21.] 21. Dion, li. 16. 22. Jos., de bell. Jud.,
V. 38. Philo, de Virtut. et Leg., 40. 23. Corp. inscr. lat., iii. 75.
24. Letronne, Inscr. de I'Egypte, i. 206. 25. Orelli, 1093. 26. Orelli,
2047, 5909. 27. Ann. xv. 44. 28. Ov. Fast., iii. 525; Am. iii. 13;
Hor., Od. iii. 18. 29. Amphitr. ii. 2, 211 [840]. 30. Orelli, 4859
[ii. 351]. 31. iii. 46. 32. Non posse suaviter vivi sec. Epic, 121
[xxi. ; Goodwin: Plutarch's Mor., ii. 191]. 33. [Marq. u. Momm.,
vi. 438; White and Riddle, Diet. 2,098; Friedl., iii. 493.] 34. Cf. Varro,
de ling, lat., vii. 2; Capitol. Marc. Aurel., c. 4. 35. [Telamo, Ribbeck,
p. 44; Boissier, i. 49.] 36. [Sallust, Cat. 51, 52. Merivale: Conversion
of the Rom. Emp., 25, 187, sq.] 37. Lucret., i. 62-101. 38. [Nat.
Hist., ii. 7 (5); xxviii. 1 (2).] 39. Antiq. Rom., ii. 67. 40. Geog., i.
19. 41. [Aug.,DeCiv. Dei, vi. 10.] 42. [16., vi. 5.] 43. [Hypot., iii.
2, .s^.] 44. [Geog., xvi. 35 (761).] 45. [Apol. 17.] 46. Plin., Kat.
Hist., xxviii. 2 (4). 47. Suet., Aug., c. 70, 90, 91. 48. [Sat,, ii. 149.]
49. Hist. iii. 20. 60. Instit., ii. 2 [?]. 51. Tac, Ann., vi. 12. 52.
Dion, Ix. 23. 53. Suet., Claudius, c. 22. 54. Suet., Nero, c. 56. 55.
An insciiption styles Vespasian: conservator ceremoniarum publica-
rum, Sbndrestitutoroediuinsacrarum. Or., 2364. 56. Letronne, Inscr.
de I'Egypte, i. 241. 67. Nat. Hist., ii. 7 (5). 58. Pitra, Spicileg.
Solesm., ii. p. xli. 69. [^AjJocolocyntosis, lit., pumpkin ification. Cf.
Meriv., Hist. Rom. Emp., v. 001; West. Rev., July, 1867, p. 49, sq.]
60. Ovid, Ep. ex Ponto, i. 37-40; Juvenal [iii. 60-90, vi. 399]; Tacit.,
Hist.,i. 22; Minucius Felix Octav.,21. 61. De leg., ii. 8. 62. Hist.
XXV. 1 : Neu quis in publico sacrove loco, novo aut externo ritu sacri-
ficaret. 63. lb., xxxix. 16. 64. Corp. inscr. lat., i. 196. 65. [Dion,
i. 16, xliii. 2.] 66. Orelli, 4737. 67. Bull, de I'inst. arch., 1864, p.
154. 68. Inscr. de I'Algerie, 3712. Cf. Or., 7395. 69. [Friedl., ii. 204;
Fisher, Beginnings of Christ., 65, n.] 70. [Tusc. Disp., i. 11.] 71.
[Ep. Iii.]. 72. [Ale, ii. 14 (condensed and paraphrased); Homer, II.,
V. 127; Cf. Plato, Rep., x. 618, Jowett, transl., ii. 401.] 73. fPhsedo,
85; Jowett, i. 434.] 74. Propert., iv. 1. 75. [1225-8; Plumptre,
Trag. of Soph., 105, 435. Cf. in Cic. Scr., ed. Klotz., iv. 3, 380; Inc.
Auctor. Consol., 36.] 76. [II., xxiv. 527-8.] 77. [Bergk, Poet. Lyr.,
Grsec, p. 1064 (Fragm. Adesp., 97); cf. Stobaei Florileg., ed. Meineke,
iv. 102 (P. K.); Nagelsbach n. horn. Theol., 228; Friedl., iii. 651.]
78. [De Ira, iii. 15. Cf. Lactant. Inst., iii. 18, 19.] 79. [Odyss., xi.
CHAP. T.] NOTES. ^ 483
488.] 80. [Od., Ivi. (Analecta, ed. Brimck, i. 112); Campbell's Eng.
Poets, xii. 47.] 81. Cf., e.g., Virgil, ^n., vi. 734. 82. Rep. vi. 31;
Tusc, i. 31 [Cf. Cic. Scr., ed. Klotz, iv. 3, p. 381]. 83. [Ep. Mor., 120,
14 (breve hospitium); ^6., 102, 26 (Dies iste . . . seterni natalis).]
84. [De Is. et Osir., ed. Reiske, vii. 505; Goodwin, iv. 135-6.] 85.
Inscr. lat., ii. 1877. Cf. Withrow, Catacombs of Rome, 435, sq. 86.
Orelli, 6674. 87. Nat. Hist., vii. 55. 88. Lucret., iii. 37 [840-2].
89. N"on posse suav. vivi sec. Epic. ; [Goodwin, ii. 194. Cf. Trench,
Lectures on Plutarch, p. 117.] 90. Cf. Zeller, Philos. d. Griechen, iii.
1, 740.] 91. Agric, 46. [Cf. Seneca, Ep., 63, 16.] 92. [De Clem., i.
6; De Benef., i. 10; Ep. 97.] 93. [Contra Stoicos, ed. Reiske, x.
436; Goodwin, iv. 408. Cf. Animine an Corp. Aff., 1.] 94. [Cf. Bois-
sier, i. 288, n.] 95. Strabo, in Jos. Antiq., xiv. 7, 2. 96. [Philo, in
Flaccum, § 8.] 97. Cf. Fisher, Beg. of Christ., 67, sq. ; Schiirer Neu,
test., Zeitgesch., § 31; Friedl., iii. 506, sq. ; De Champagny, Rome et
la Judee, c. iv.] 98. [Juv., iii. 1-3-16, vi. 426-31; Martial, Epigr., xii.
57.] 99. Jos., Antiq., xiii. 8. 4; xiv. 10. 11-12. 100. Jos., Antiq., xii.
3. 1 ; Philo, leg. ad Caium, § 23. [Corn is not mentioned in these
passages.] 101. In almost every city there was a storehouse for thfj
sacred things deposited by the Jewish people. Philo, de Monarchia,
ii. 3. After some wavering the Roman government sanctioned the
transportation of these offerings to Jerusalem. 102. Philo, de Mon.,
ii. 1; Josephus (de bell. Jud., vi. 9, ^) estimates the number of visit-
ors at the Feast of the Passover, including those belonging to the
city of Jerusalem, at 2,700,200. 103. [Tacit., Hist., v. 2-3.] 104. [lb.,
V. 4.] 105. xiv. 105-6. 106. Tacit., Hist., v. 4. 107. [Sat. i. 5. 100.]
108. [Hor., Sat., 1. 9. 70; Juv., xiv. 104; Mart., Epigr., vii. 82. 6; xi.
95. 2, 4, 6; vii. 30. 4; Petr., S., 68. See also Farrar, Life of St. Paul,
Am. ed., i. 667, and ref.] 109. [De Sup., ed. Haase, iii. 427; Ap.
Aug. de Civ. Dei, vi. 11 .] 110. Jos., Apion, ii. 40: " There is no city
of the Greeks or of the barbarians, nor any nation whatsoever,
whither our custom of resting on the Sabbath has not come, and by
which our fasts, and lighting up lamps, and many of our prohibi-
tions as to our food, are not observed."
CHAPTER II.
1. Ep., 53, 8-11, 90, 27, et al. 2. [Cf. Lightfoot, Philippians, 268
sq.; Hurst and Whiting, Seneca's Essays, 32, sq. and ref. ; Fisher, 169;
Boissier, ii. 52-104.] 3. De Ira, ii. 9. 4. [Nigrinus, 15. | 6. Prsef.
484 NOTES. [BOOK T.
6. [On this chap. cf. Tholuck's Essay on the Nature and Moral Influ-
ence of Heathenism, transl. by Professor Emerson, Bib. Repos., vol.
ii. ; Fisher, chap. vi. ; ih., note and references, p. 197; Pressense, Chris-
tian Life and Practice in the Early Church, transl. by Annie Har-
wood-Holmden, Book iii. ; Schaff, Hist. Ap. Ch., Bk. ii. c. 1; Hist,
of Ch. Church, c. v., § 86, sq., and references; Lecky, Hist, of Europ.
Morals from Augustus to Charlemagne ; Schmidt, Essai historique sur
la societe civile dans le monde romain et sur sa transformation par le
Christianisme ; and other works referred to in Chap. i. n. 6.] 7. Athen.
Deipnosoph., xiii. 34. 8. [Rep., viii. 563; Jowett, ii. 401.] Cf. Cic, de
Republ., i. 43. 9. Poet., 15. 10. Xenoph., (Econ., iii. 12. 11. Contra
Neseram sub fin. 12. Pint., Pericl., 24. 13. Athen., xiii. 583. 14.
Id., xiii. 583, 585 [591, 590]. 15. [Plut., Yit. Rom., 22; cf. Thes.
cum Rom. sub. fin. (vii. ed. Sinteris) ; Val. Max., Hist., ii. 1, 4; Tert.,
Apol. 6.] 16. Plin., N. H., ix. 117. 17. De Benef., vii. 9. 4 [cf. id.,
De Vita Beata, xvii. 2.] 18. De Spectac, 25. 19. Juvenal, vi. 350.
20. Propert., ii. 6, 27-34; Senec, Controv., v. 33; Tacit., Germ., 19.
21. De Benef., iii. 16, 2. 22. vi. 223. 23. Apol. 6. 24. [De Benef.,
iii. 16.] 25. Ovid, Am. i. 8, 43; iii. 4, 37; Senec, Consol. ad Helv., 16, 3.
[De Benef., i. 9.] 26. Juvenal, ix. 19-22; Min. Eel. Octavius, 24. 27.
Tert., ad Nat. i. 15, Apol. 15 [9]. 28. Juv., vi. 379-397. 29. [Ad Mar-
ciam, xix. 2. Cf. Friedl., i. 394-400.] 30. In the temple of Venus in
Corinth there were more than one thousand prostitutes (Hierodouloi).
They had great privileges, and sometimes presented to the goddess
the vows and prayers of the city. Cf. Strabo, viii. 378. So, also, in a
temple at Eryx in Sicily, where even Roman consuls and praetors
participated in the impurity, believing that thus they made them-
selves acceptable to the Deity. Cf. Diod., iv. 83. 31. [Orelli, 4G26, sg.
Cf. Friedl., iii. 503-1] 32. Joseph., Antiq., xiv. 7, 1. 33. Dio, xxxix.
65. 34. Cic, pro Rabir., 8; Suet., Cses., 54. 35. Strabo, iv. 188. 36.
Eep., ii. 375 [? Leges, xi. 918-20; Jowett, iv. 429, sg.] 37. Polit., v. 2, 1.
38. [Cic, De Off., i. 42. Cf. Doll., ii. 269.] 39. Cato, de re nat., v. 4;
Columella, i. 7. 40. Cic, De Off., ii. 25; Columella, iv. Praef., 4. 41.
[Cf. De Champagny, Les Cesars, iv. 337, sq.; Friedl., i. 54-63.] 42. De
Benef., iv. 28. 43. [Suet., Oct., 42; Dion, liv. 11.] 44. Cf. Spart.,
Sept. Sev., 19-23; Yopisc, Aurelianus, 35, 47, 48. 45. [Suet., Ner.,
31.] 46. Ad Helv., x. 3. 47, Plin., H. Nat., xiv. 142 [129]. 48. Ep.,
1. 9; cf. also Seneca, De Tranq. Animi, c. 12. 49. Ep., i. 13 [Mel-
moth, p. 26.] 50. Ep., 88. 51. [Cf. Boissier, ii. 48.] 52. [xi. 185,
*</•] 53. ["According to the latest calculations, the circus in late im-
perial times must have contained 480,000 seats," Guhl and Koner,
Li/e of the Greeks and Bomans, transl. by Hueffer, p. 424. n. See,
CHAl^ IT.] NOTES. 485
however, Marq. u. Momm., H'dbuch d. rom. Alterth., vi. 486, n. 4.]
64. [Cf. C. I. L., iv. 1189, 1190, 1181.] 55. [Cf. Lecky, Hist, of Eui\
Mor., i. 298; Mart., De Spect., vii. ; Epigr., viii. 30; x. 25; TertulL,
Ad. Nat., i. 10; Fried!., ii. 268, notes and references.] 56. [Panegyr.,
33.] 57. [Ep., vii.] 68. [Art. Am., i. 167-8.] 59. iii. 20. 60. De Re
Rust., i. 17. 61. [Ad Attic., i. 12, 4.] 62. [Verr., v. 3; Yal. Max., vi.
3, 35. The man had brolvcn a law prohibiting slaves from carrying
arms.] 63. Instit., i. xvi. 4. Nullum caput habet; L. 53, Dig. iv. 5,
de capit. minut. 64. L. 10, § 5, Dig. xxxviii. 10, de grad. et aflSn.
65. Suet., De Clar. Rhetor., 3; cf. Columella, Prsef., 10. Aged women
even, who could be made serviceable in no other way, were chained
before the door. Plant., CurcuL, i. 1, 76. 66. Inexpiabili literarum
nota, Yaler. Max., vi. 8, 7; Inscripti vultus, Martial, viii. 75; cf.
Cic, De Off., ii. 7. 67. Juvenal, vi. 173-177. "Set a cross for the
slave." — "For what offence has he merited punishment? What
witness is jjresent? Who has accused him? Hear! No delay is too
long when the question concerns the death of a man." — " O fool, as
if the slave were a man! He has done nothing? Be it so. It is my
will. I so command. My will is reason enough." 68. De Re Rust.,
ii. Plutarch, Cat. Maj., 5. 69. Suet., Claud., 25; cf. Dion., Ix. 29.
70. Cf. Tacit., Ann., xiv. 42, sq. 71. Phrixiis, ap. Stob. Florileg. [Tit.,
Ixii.], 39. 72. Philemon, Ibid., 28; cf. the well-known saying in Ter-
ence: "Homo sum, humani nihil a me alienum puto." 73. Ep., 95,
33, 52; cf. De Benef., iii. 28, 1. 74. De Benef., iii. 20, 1. 75. Ep.,
47, 1. 76. [Boissier, who presents in general the most favorable
aspects of Roman slavery, remarks that "no ancient writer ex-
presses, either as a distant hope, or as a fugitive desire, or even as an
improbable hypothesis, the thought that slavery might one day be
abolished. . . . This was one of those radical reforms which could
scarcely be expected in the regular course of things. ... A change
so profound that no one desired it, nor foresaw it, could not be accom-
plished without one of those revolutions which renovate the world."
La Rel. Rom., ii. 404-5.] 77. [Cf. Prof. B. B. Edwards in Am. Bib.
Kep.. V. 138, sq.; vi. 411, sq.; vii. 33, sq.; Wallon, L'Esclavage dans
I'Antiquite, 2d ed., 1879; Boissier, La Rel. Rom., ii. 345, sq.] 78.
[Theod., de Graec. affect. Cur. Disp., iii.; 0pp., iv. 774; Bib. Repos.,
ii. 464; Clem. Alex. Strom., ii. 20 (62).] 79. Eunuch., iii. 5. 80. Ep.,
53, 8-11. 81. De Vita Beata, viii. 2, 82. Duruy, Hist, des Remains,
V, 431.
486 NOTES. [book I.
CHAPTER III.
1. Ep. ad Diogn., c. 6. I have allowed the passages cited from this
Epistle to stand, although I cannot deny that my previously enter-
tained doubts whether the letter is really as old as usually supposed
have been strengthened by the treatise of Overbeck: Studien zur Ge-
schichte der alten Kirche, i. Heft., s. 1-93. 2. Cf. Kraus, Roma Sot-
teranea, S. 247 [284, 2d Aufl. ; Northcote and Brownlow, Eom. Sott.,
247; Withrow, The Catacombs, 241-2.] 3. [Dial. c. Tryph., i.-viii.]
4. c. 32. 6. Apol. 40; [Plato, Tim., p. 28; Jowett, ii. 524.] 6. [Orig.
c. Cels., iii. 5-5.] 7. [lb., iii. 59, 62.] 8. lb., iii. 65. 9. Minuc. Felix
Octav., 32: "What temple shall I build to Him, when this whole
world fashioned by His work cannot receive Him ? " Orig. c. Cels.,
iii. 34. "We have refrained from honoring the Divinity by such
means," i.e., by temples and statues. [Cf. Ante-Nicene Christian Li-
brary, xiii. 504; xxiii. 115. The language of the translations in this
"Library," and in the Oxford "Library of Fathers of the Holy Cath-
olic Church," has been freely used in the text.] 10. Clem. Alex.
Strom., vii. 5, 29: "Notthe place, but the assembly of the elect, I
call the church." 11. Ep. x. 93. 12. Apol. i. 65, 67. 13. Apol.
c. 39. 14. [Hist. Eccles., iii. 37.] 15. Legatio, ii. 16. Apol. i. 63.
17. c. 5. 18. Apol. 44. 19. Euin., Act. Mart., p. 270; [ii. 145, ed.
Galura.] 20. c. Cels., i. 46. 21. Cf. Orig. c. Cels., i. 2; iii. 24; Just.,
Apol. i. 45; Iren., adv. Haer., ii. 32. 4. 22. Cf. on the miraculous
powers of the early Christians : Biickmann in the Zeitschr. f . Luth.
Theol. u. Kirche, 1878, ii. ; [Blunt, Right Use of the Early Fathers,
3d ed., 310, sq.; Mozley, Bampton Lectures, 1865, p. 250, sq.; McClin-
.tock and Strong, Cyclopaedia, vi. 320, sq.] 23. Cf. Tert., De Coron.
Mil., c. 3; Ad Ux., ii. 5; Orig. c. Cels., vi. 27. 24. Tert., De Coron.,
11; Ad Martyr., 3; De Exhort. Cast., 12; De Orat., 14, 19; De Jejun.,
10, 12, 13. 25. De Or., 29. 26. Cf. Tertullian's treatise on Fasting,
particularly c. 14, 16; Iren., ii. 31; Just., i. 61 ; Cypr., Ep. 11; Euseb.,
Hist. Eccl., V. 24. 27. De Coron. Mil., 11. 28. Tertull., Apol. 9;
Minuc. Felix Octav., 30; Clem. Alex., Psed., iii. 8; Orig. c. Cels., viii.
30. They abstained also from meat offered to idols. Just. c. Tiyph.,
34, 35; Tert., De Spect., 13. 29. Tert., Apol. 31, 35; Ad Nat., i. 17;
Minuc. Fel. Octav., 18. 30. In general the Church had not prohibited
military and political service. "It is lawful to take part in public
affairs." Clem. Al., Paed., iii. 11. 110. There was also, however, a
rigid theory. The Const. Eccl. Egypt., ii. 47, exclude from the num-
ber of catechumens every one who bore the power of the sword, or,
CHAP. iTi.] NOTES. 487
as an officer of the State, was clothed in purple, unless he resigned
his office. They excommunicate a Christian who voluntarily becomes
a soldier: ii. 41. Cf., further, upon military service, Tert., De Idol.,
19; De Cor. Mil., 11; Orig. c. Cels., v. 33; vii. 36; viii. 73-75: upon
governmental offices, Orig. c. Cels., ib.; Tert., Apol. 38; De PalHo, 5,
De Idol., 17, 18; Cypr., Ep. viii. 31. Const. Ap., viii. 32; Tertull.,
De Idol., 4. 32. Ign. ad Trail., 5; Tertull., De Pudic, 4; Ad Ux.,
ii. 8; De Monog., 11. 33. Strom., ii. 8. 71. [?] 34. Ad Ux., ii. 9.
35. [Instr., iii. 11. 67.] 36. Strom., iv. 19; Paedag., 1. 4. 37. [Ap.
Const., viii. 3. 20.] 38. [Tertull., De Cult. Fem., ii. 11.] 39. Cf.
Clem. Alex., Psed., iii. 10. 49. 40. De Cult. Fem., ii. 11. 41. De
Cult. Fem., 1. 8; ii. 6. et al. ; cf. Cyprian's treatise De Habitu Yirgi-
num. 42. De Cult. Fem., ii. 13. 43. Clem. Alex., Psed., ii. 10. 96.
44. Const. Mg., ii. 62. [Vid. Anal. Ante-Nic, ii. p. 475.] 45. Clem.
Alex., Psed., ii. 1. 10. 48. Bunsen, Analecta Ante-Nicaena, iii. 88, 89;
[Id. Hippolytus and his Age, iii. 144, 68.] 47. Lact. Inst. Div., v.
15. 48. De Coron. Mil., 13. 49. Const. Eccl. Egypt., ii. 40. 60. c.
19. 51. Apost. Const., iv. 6. 52. Orat., c. 11. 53 Ign. ad Polyc, c.
4. 64. Const. Ap., iv. 17. 55. [Acta Sanctorum, Mali, i. 371.] 56.
Tert., Apol. 46. 57. Legatio [11]. 58. Const. Apost., iv. 2 [ii. 63].
69. Const. Apost., iv. 2. 60. Cf. Tertullian's treatise De Spectaculis,
and the similar one by Cyprian [iii. p. 11, ed. Hartel., 0pp. Spuria].
61. [Asin., ii. 4. 88.] 62. Trinum., ii. 2. 58. 63. De Offic, iii. 29;
1. 16. 64. Seneca, De Clem., ii. 6; De Ira, i. 14. 3. 65. Tac, Ann.,
iv. 63. 66. Tert., Apol. 39. 67. Ep. 19. 68. Lact. Inst., vi. 10. 11.
69. Ad Ux., ii. 4. 70. Const. Ap. Copt., i. 17. 71. Apol. 42. 72. Apol.
i. 67. 73. Apol. 39. 74. [Adv. Hser., iv. 18. 2.] 75. Tert., adv. Marc,
iv. 4; De Prsescr. Haer., :30. 76. Const. Ap., iv. 6. 77. Tert., De Exh.
Cast., 11; DeCor. Mil., 3; De Monog., 10. 78. [Vit. Cyp., 2. 15.] 79.
The entire passage, Apol. 39, is of the highest interest, because it
shows plainly that the Christian churches bore, at least in this rela-
tion, the form of Associations. An inscription from Lanuvium, of
the year 136 (Or., 6086) gives us exact information respecting the
Association cf Cultores of Diana and of Antinous. It is a burial-
club. Each member paid an admission fee of 100s. (about $5),
and afterwards a monthly assessment of 5 asses (about 5 cents). On
the death of a member 300s. were paid for his burial. Of this sum
50s. were divided among those members who were present at the
intennent. A part of the income of the society was expended in
common banquets and festivities. Tertullian evidently refers to this
custom when he sets forth so explicitly that the gifts deposited in the
area were not used for any such purposes. Cf. respecting these
488 NOTES. [book I.
Associations: Mommsen, De collegiis et sodalitiis Komanorum; [De
Cliampagiiy, Les Antonins, iii. 417, sq.] 80. Cypr., Ep. 60; Herm.,
Pastor, iii., Sim., 5. 3; Tert., De Jejun., 13; Const. Ap., v. 20. 81.
In Levit. Horn., x. 2. [^'Inveiiimus enim in quodam libello ab Apos-
tolis dictum: beatus est, qui etiam jejunat i)ro eo ut alat pauperem."]
82. [Ep. iv. vi.] 83. [Anibros., De Offic. Ministr., ii. 28; Prudent.
Peri Steph. Hymn., 2.] 84. Const. Ap., ii. 25, 31, 32; iii. 19; Cypr.,
Ep. 38. 85. Cypr., Ep. 41. 86. Const. Ap., ii. 4; iv. 3. Cyprian, Ep.
61 [ii., ed. Hartel, and Oxford ed., Ix., transl. in Ante-Nicene Lib.]
provides tliat supi^ort should be given, if needful, from tiie cliurch
treasury, to a converted actor. 87. [Ignat. ad Polyc, 4; Const. Ap.,
iii. 3; Cypr., Ep. xxxv. (vii).] 88. [Ap. Const., iv. 1-3.] 89. [Tert.,
Apol. 39; Cliastel, Etudes Histor., p. 104.] 90. [Const. Ap., iv. 9;
cf. i. Clem, ad Cor., 55.] 91. [Const. Ap., v. 1; Alexand., Lit. in
Bunsen, Anal. Ante-Nic, iii. 24; Cypr., Ep. 36 (xii..), 4 (v.), 5 (xiv.)]
92. [Chastel, ib., pp. 109-10; i. Clem. Rom. ad Cor., 1-2; Euseb., Hist.
EccL, iv. 23; Lucian, De Mort. Peregr., 13; Bib. Sac, x. 455.] 93.
Euseb., Hist. EccL, iv. 23; vii. 5. 94. [Ep. 59 (62).] 95. Euseb., Hist.
Eccl., vi. 4:3. 96. Chrysost., Horn. 66; In Matth., § 3. 97. Ambros.,
Ep. 63 [1044. 89.] 98. Ambros., De Off., ii. 28. 99. [Apol. i. 14, 15.
Cf. Athenag. Sup. pro Christ., 1, 11; Theoph. ad. AutoL, 14.] 100.
[Ad Scap., 1.] 101. Pont. Yit. Cypr., § 9. 102. Euseb., Hist. Eccl.,
vii. 22. 103. [Cf. Chastel., Etudes Historiques sur 1' Influence de
Charite durant les Premiers Siecles chre't., Paris, 1853.] 104. Ad
Autol., iii. 11. 105. Ad Scap., 2; [Apol. 37.] 106. [Ad Nat., i. 17;
cf. Apol. 35.] 107. Apol. 33. 108. Ep. vi., xiii. 109. Tert., Apol.
46. 110. [Mart., Pol. xiv., in Patr. Apostol., Op. ed. Zahn, p. 154.]
111. [Ruinart, Acta Martyr., i. 191, ed. Galura.] 112. Euseb., De
Martyr. Palsest., c. 8. 113. Paiin., Acta Mart., p. 150. 114. [Cf.
Withrov/, The Catacombs of Rome, p. 103.] 115. [Cf. Wi throw, ib.
294-9; Northcote and Brownlow, Rom. Sott., 73, 245, 2.50, 310.] 116.
Cf. Orig. c. Cels., viii. 38. 117. [Mart. Polyc, c 4.] 118. [Ep. 82
(Ed. Oxf. 81).] 119. [De Mortal., c 17.] 120. Cf. treatise De Fuga
In Persecutione. 121.. [Ep. 4 (Oxf. ed. 5).] 122. Diod., iii. 12, 13,
gives a description of the misery of those who worked in the mines:
"No mercy is there, no respite allowed either to the sick, or the
maimed, or to women. Without distinction they are all compelled
by blows to labor until, reduced to despair, they perish in their
misery." 123. Ruinart, Acta Mart., p. .395 [ii. 295, ed. Galura]. Cf.
TerL., Apol. 50; Cypr., De Mortal., p. 2:>J. [c 15.] 124. Ruinart,
Acta Mart., p. 144 [i. 332, ed. Galura I,
THAP. I.] NOTES. 480
BOOK II., CHAPTER I.
I.Roma Sott., i. 318 [North, and Br. Rom. Sott., 122, aq.]; Insigni
scoperte nel cimetero di Domitilla in Bull, di Arclieologia crlstiaiia,
[Ser. i., 1865]. Cf. Theol. lit. Zeit., 1876, p. 291 ; [Harnack in Princeton
Rev., July, 1878, p. 257, sq.; Kraus, Roma Sotteranea, p. 127, sq. (142,
2d Aufl.)]. 2. Octav., c. 5. 3. [lb. 6.] 4. [lb. 8.] 5. 16. 12. 6.
lb. 10. 7. ["Molestum ilium volunt, inquietum, impudenter etiam
curiosum."] 8. [lb. 10.] 9. Tac, Hist., v. 3; Tert., Apol. 16; [Ad
Nat., 11, 14;] Minucius Felix Octav., c. 9. 10. P. Raffaele Garucci: il
Crocifisso graffito in casa dei Cesari, Roma, 1857; Becker: Das Spott-
crucilix im romischen Kaiserpalast, Breslau, 1866; [Kraus: Das
Spottcrucifix vom Palatin, Freiburg i. Breisgau, 1872; Parker, Hon.
J.H. : Historical Photographs, No. 107, Oxford, 1870; Aube: Perse-
cutions de I'Eglise, La Polemique Paienne, Paris, 1878, p. 96, sq.;
Caricatures, etc., by J. Parton, pp. 25-6; Univ. Quart., July, 1879, p.
338.] 11. Octav., c. 9; cf. Eus., Hist. Eccl., iv. 15; [A. N. L., xxii.
463.] 12. Orig. c. Gels., iii. 44. 13. lb. iii. 75. 14. Acta Epipodii et
Alexandri [Ruinart, i. 166, ed. Galura]. 15. Octav., c. 8. 16. lb. 12.
17. [Apol. 38.] 18. Gf. Tert., Apol. 42. 19. [^n.,i. 278.] 20. [Tert.,
Apol. 4.] 21. [According to the Acta, Ruinart, i. 350, ed. Galura,
Achatius was a confessor. Other martyrologies, however, represent
him as a martyr. Cf. Smith and Wace, Diet, of Christ. Biog., i. p. 11.]
22 [Apol. 5. . . . portio Neronis. . . .] 23. Christ. Kortholt: de perse-
cutionibus eccl. primsevte, Kiloni, 1689. For later works I would refer
particularly to Aube: Histoire des Persecutions de I'Eglise jusqu'a
la fin des Antonins, 2d ed., Paris, 1875; Overbeck: Ueber die Gesetze
der rom. Kaiser von Trajan bis Marc. Aurel. gegen die Christen, in
den Studien zur Gesch. der alten Kirche (1875), S. 93, sq.; Wieseler:
Die Christenverfolgung der Casaren bis zum dritten Jahrh., Giiters-
loh, 1878. [Thiel : altrom Rechtsanschauung bez. d. polit. Stellung d.
chr. Relig., Tiib. Th. Q'schr. 1855. 2.; Le Blant: les Bases juridiques
des poursuites dirigees contre les martyrs, compt. rend, de I'Acad.
des Inscr. Par., 1808. For the Acts of the Martyrs, see Theodor. Rui-
nart: Acta prim. mart, sincera et selecta, 2d ed., Amstel., 1713.
The references in these notes are to this edition, unless otherwise
stated. Other sources of information are: Martyrol. Hieron., in
Migne's Patrol. Lat., tom. xxx. 449; Martyrol. Roman., ed. Baron,
2d ed., 1.589; Menolog. Gr^ec, ed. Urbini, 1727; Euseb., Hist. Eccl.;
the works of the Apologists; Lactant., De Mort. persecutorum; Biog-
raphies in the Acta Sanctorum Boll. ; in Les petits Bollandistes Vies
490 NOTES. [book ii.
des Saints, Bar-le-duc, 1872-74 ; and in The Lives of the Saints by
Rev. S. Baring-Gould, 1872-77.] 24. [These general laws were, as
stated by Kraus, Lehrbuch d. Kirchengesch., i. pp. 55-6, (1) the lex
Julia majestatis. Its transgression — either facto, or verbis impiis,
murmuratione contra felicitatem temporum, or coetn nocturno and
coitione clandestina, illicito collegio — was punished with death :
humiliores bestiis objiciuntur vel vivi exuruntur; honestiores capite
puniuntur. The same penalties were appointed for (2) sacrilegium —
which could be committed by refusing the sacrifices due to the gods
and to the Genius of the Emperor: sacrilegi et majestatis rei con-
venimur; summa hsec causa, immo tota est. Tert., Apol. 10. This
charge took away a freeman's privileges, so that he could be put to
torture like a slave, . . . majestatis causa, in qua sola omnibus oequa
conditio est. Cod. Justin., L. iv., de qusest., ix. 41. Beside torture,
burning and crucifixion could be employed. (3) Magia, superstitio
maleflca. A law of the XII. Tables aifixed the penalty of death to the
crime of incantation. An offender could be thrown to the wild beasts
or crucified. Ipsi autem magi vivi exuruntur. Sentent. v. 23, 17.
The Christians could bring on themselves the accusation through
exorcisms. The law forbade keeping books of magic, and could be
applied to those who had the sacred Scriptures. (4) Superstitio ex-
terna, or peregrina ; religio illicita. Acts xvi. 21. The penalty was
banishment for the higher classes, death for the lower. (5) From
Trajan's time the law against brotherhoods (Hetgerige) was applied to
the Christians.] 25. De Rossi, in his investigations, is the first to
have drawn attention to this circumstance. Cf. Kraus, Rom, Sott.,
S. 49, sq. [2d ed. S. 53, sq.; Northcote and Brownlow, R. Sott., 49, sq.]
Following exactly the custom of the burial-clubs which Severus had
sanctioned by a general edict (Dig. xlviii. 22. 1), the Christians, ac-
cording to Tertullian (Apol. c. 39), contributed menstrua die in order
to support and bury the poor. Of special interest is the inscription
found at Cherchell [anc. Caesarea] in Africa (Renier, Inscr. de I'Al-
gerie, 4025) [Kraus, R. Sott., S. 58, 2d ed.], M'here a Christian v/ho
gives an area, or burial-place, calls himself '^ cultor verbi,^^ a designa-
tion which is evidently formed from the custom of calling the mem-
bers of such burial-clubs Cultores Jovif-, Citltores Apollinis et Dianoe.
Cf. also G. Heinrici: Die Christengemeinde Korinths u. die reli-
giosen Genossenschaften der Griechen, Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol., 1876, S.
465 f£. 26. Wieseler (Die Christenverfolg., etc., S. 1, sq.) has called in
question the opinion that the Christians were regarded by the heathen
as Jews. He refers particularly to the fact that according to Tacitus
they were already called Christians by the populace in the Neronian
CHAP, n.] NOTES. 491
persecution. This is correct, but on the other hand it appears from
Tacitus' s report that they were persecuted not as Christians, but on
account of the shameful deeds attributed to them, particularly the
setting the great fire. The heathen, it may be assumed, did not
everywhere attain at the same time to a knowledge of the difference
between Christians and Jews, and, doubtless, this discovery was first
made in Rome. This being so, the heathen could give the Christians
a special name, and still at the same time regard them as a fraction
of Judaism. There are no instances before the time of Trajan in
which Christians are condemned on account of a collegium illicitum,
or for holding a prohibited religion. So far, indeed, Wieseler is right :
Christianity did not first become an unlawful religion by the decree
of Trajan. It had always been this, though not at first so recognized.
It is also true that trials of Christians did not first begin in conse-
quence of Trajan's rescript. Pliny assumes that there had already
been such, even in Rome itself ; only he had never had an opportunity
to be present at one. At the same time Pliny's letter shows plainly
that these trials were still somewhat novel. 27. Suet., Claudius, 25.
Cf. Tert., Apol. 3; [ad. Kat., i. 3; Justin, Apol. i. 4; Theoph. ad
Autol., i. 12; Lactant., Inst. iv. 7; Lightfoot, Philippians, p. 16, n.]
28. Tacit., Ann. xv. 44; Suet., Nero, 16. Cf. on the burning of
Rome, and the Persecution, particularly Schiller: Geschichte des
romischen Kaiserreichs unter Nero (Berlin, 1872), S. 415, sq.; Aube:
Persecutions, etc., 74, sq. ; Hausrath: Neutestameut. Zeitgesch.,
iii. 93, sq. 29. i. c. 6. [Lightfoot' s Transl.] 30. Sat. i. 155, sq.
CHAPTER II.
1. No writer before Orosius (vii. 7) makes this persecution extend
beyond Rome. De Rossi's attempt (Bullet, di Archeol. Crist., Dec.
1865, p. 90, sq.) to prove its extension, from Pompeian inscriptions,
was unsuccessful. Cf. Aube, De la iegalite du Christianisrao dans
I'Empire Romain pendant le premier siecle. Comptes Rendus, 1866, ii.,
p. 134, sq.; also printed in his "Persecutions de I'Eglise," p. 407, sq.
2. Suetonius, Domit. 12. 3. Xiphilinus, Epit. Dion. Cass., Ixvii. 14.
4. [Domit. 15.] 5. Cf. Zahn, Hirt des Hermas, p. 44, sq.; [contra:
Lightfoot, Philippians, p. 22, sq.; Clement of Rome (Appendix), p.
2.56, sq.; Harnack in Pat. Apost. opp., ed. iii.. Ease, 1. p. Ixxxviii. ;
Withrow, Catacombs, p. 56, sq.] 6. Euseb., H. Eccl., iii. 20. 7. Ep.
X. 96 (97) ; [Trajan's answer, Ep. x. 97 (98)] : cf. Aubd, lib. clt., p. 207,
492 NOTES. [book n.
sq.; Overbeck, lib. cit., p. Ill, sq.; Wieseler, lib. cit., p. 14, sq. 8.
Apol. 2. 9. [Tert., Apol. 50. See Oxf. Transl., p. 105, note, for col-
lection of passages.] 10. [Just. M., 2 Apol. 2.] 11. [De Spect., 1.]
12. Iren., Adv. Hser.', iii. 3. § 3.; cf. Lipsius, Chronol. d. rom. Bis-
chofe, pp. 170, 263, 272. Telespliorus was martyred A. D. 135 or 137.
Bp. Alexander's martyrdom is probably legendary (Ibid., p. 167). 13.
Ruinart, Acta Sine, p. 23, sq. These Acta are based on fact, though
containing legendary embellishments. [The references are to the sec-
ond ed., Amstel. 1713.] 14. Tert., Ad Scap., 5. 15. Hadrian's edict
adrossed to Minucius Fundanus I hold to be genuine, against Keim
(Theol. Jahrb., 1856, p. 387, sq.), Overbeck (lib. cit., p. 134, sq.), and
Aube (lib. cit., p. 262, sq.). Its insertion in Justin M., 1 Apol. 68,
is a strong proof of its genuineness, which cannot be set aside without
the hypothesis of interpolation, of which there is no evidence. Of
course, if the Emperor (as above autliorities assume) really is made
to say that Christians are not to be punished as such, but only for
other offences against the laws, then the edict could not be genuine.
But this interpretation is not necessary. Without violence the edict
may be explained as on p. 263. 16. Euseb., H. Eccl., iv. 23. 17.
Ibid. , iv. 26. I believe the Edictum ad commune Asicb to be spurious,
in spite of Wieseler s defence of it (lib. cit., p. 18, sq.). 18. Apol. 37.
Ad Scap., 5. 19. [Pant^nus, Euseb., H. Eccl., v. 10. : ''Dumb folk,"
Min. Fel. Octav., 8; cf. 31.] 20. [1 Apol. 1.] 21. Octavius used to
be regarded as of later date than Tertullian ; but now the view con-
stantly gains ground that Tert. used Oct., and that the latter belongs
to the time of Marc. Aurel., cir. A. D. 180. Theopldlus ad Antolycum
is of about the same date. 22. [1 Apol. 55]. 23. [1 Apol. 5, 46.; 2
Apol. 8, 10.] 24. [c. 9.] 25. [Adv. Grsec, 2, 3, 25, 26.] 26. [Apol.
17; cf. De Test. Anim.] 27. Tusc, i. 39; Ad. Attic, x. 18, 1. 28.
[M. C. Frontonis Epp. ad Antonin. Imp. et invicem, I., Ep. 1: Pullus
noster Antoninus aliquo lenius tussit: quantum quisque in nidulo nos-
tvo jam sapit, tantumpro te precatur.'] Fronto ad Marc. Caes., iv. 12.
29. Aulus Gellius, xii. 1. 30. Orelli, 2677; Mommsen, Insc. Neap.,
1092. 31. Henzen (Annali dell' instituto di corresp. archeol., 1844,
pp. 1-111. [Wolf., F. A., von einer milder Stiftung Trajans, Pro-
cjramm, Berl., 1808.] Peter, Gesch. Roms, iii. p. 514, sq. 32. c. 26.
33. Jul. Capitolin., Antonin. 8. ; Lamprid., Severus, 56. 34. Ep. i. 8;
ii. 5; V. 7; vii. 18. 35. Orelli, 6669. 36. Ep. vi. 3; vi. 32. 37. Ep.
1. 8; vii. 18. 38. Orelli, 114; 6042. 39. Ep. v. 19; ii. 6; iii. 19; viii.
16, 19. 40. Dig. i. 1. 4. [Utpote cum jure naturali omnes liberi nas-
cerentur, nee esset nota manumissio, cum servitus esset incognita;
sedposteaquam jure gentium servitus invasit, secatum est benejicium
CHAP, n.] NOTES. 493
manumissionis. Et cum uno naturali nomine homines appellaremur,
jure gentium tria genera esse cceperunt : liberi, et his contrarium servi,
et tertlwn genus liberti, id est, qui desierant esse serci.] Cf. Becker-
Marquardt, H'dbiicli d. rom. Alterthiimer, v. 107, .n^.; Overbeck, lib.
cit., p. 170, sq. 41. [iv. 4.] 42. Especially IJe Champagny : Hist, des
Antonins [Paris, 1866]; Schmidt [Charles], Essai historique siir la
societe civile dans le monde romain et sur sa transformation par le
Christianisme, Strasb., 1853; Thiersch: Politik und Philosophic
unter Trajan iind Hadrian und den beiden Antoninen. On the other
hand Overbeck, 1. c, is inclined to under-estimate the influence of
Christianity. 43. Orig. c. Gels., viii. 68. 44. [1 Apol. 1-3. Oxf.
Transl. in the main.] 45. [vii. 73; ix. 42; viii. 59. These and the
following are from Long's Transl.] 46. [iv. 23, 34; ii. 13; iii. 5; v.
31.] 47. [xi. 3,] 48. [Epp. ad Marc. Antonin. Imp. de Nepote Amisso:
Ep. 2.] 49. [ii. 16; vi. 54; ii. 5.] 50. [uaefSeiag: the better reading is
'Afficf, "the teacher of Asia;" cf. Zahn in Pat. Apost. 0pp., ed.
iii., Fasc. ii., p. 150.] 51. Much has recently been written about
the date of Polycarp's death. The majority now follow Waddington,
who (Memoire sur le chronologic d® la vie du rheteur ^lius Aristide
[Memoires de I'Acad. des Insc, etc., Tom. xxvi.. Part I., 1867. p.
203, sq.]) makes Feb. 23, 155, the date. Gebhardt [Zeitschr. fur hist.
Theol., 1875, p. 377] holds to 155 or 156. [Cf. Lipsius, Zeitschr. fur
wiss. Theol., 1874, p. 188; Hilgenfeld, Ibid., p. 120, note, 325, sq.;
Zahn, lib. cit., p. 148; Lightfoot, Contemp. Review, May, 1875, p.
838; Aug., 1876, p. 415.] Wieseler (lib. cit., p. 34, sq.) seems to me to
have hit the mark. 52. Cf. Wieseler, lib. cit., p. 104, sq. 53. [2 Apol.
3. "Impaled," this is Uhlhorn's translation (an den Pfahl gehangt)
with Maranus. The words are ^vXu k[MTxayfjvai. Yalesius, Heinichen
(in Euseb., H. Eccl., iv. 16 § 3), also Gildersleeve (Apologies of Jus-
tin, N.Y., 1877, p. 213), Otto in loc. (3d ed.), translate "fastened in
the stocks." Otto in ed. 2. (i., p. 175) translates it "crucified;" and
if we bear in mind (1) that the connection seems to favor a capital
punishment, — Justin would hardly refer to the hatred of Crescens
as satisfied and the rage of the heathen as glutted by putting him in
the stocks, — (2) the frequent use of ^"wAov with the meaning cross:
then "crucified" will perhaps appear a not unnatural interpre-
tation.] 64. Apol. 5. [Fulminata appears in an Inscr. of Tarquinii,
Bullet, deir Institut., 1830, p. 198; White and Eiddle, Diet., s. v.]
55. Adv. Grsec, 4. 56. Euseb., H. Eccl., iv. 26. Acta Symphor.,
Ruinart, p. 78, sq. The edict there cited, and which Neander (ch.
Hist., 2d Am. ed., i. p. 108) holds to be genuine, is surely spurious.
57. Euseb., H. Eccl., v. 1. The persecution began A.D. 177. 68.
494 NOTES. [BOOK II.
Orig. c. Cels., viii. 39, 40, 69. On the situation of the Church cf.
Keim, Celsus' Wahres Wort [Zurich, 1873], p. 268, sq. Aube (lib. cit.,
p. 342, sq.) vainly tries to shift the blame from Marcus Aurelius, and
to represent the persecution as insignificant. 59. Orig. c. Cels. [i. 28,
32, 38, 62; ii. 9; i. 67; ii. 29, 32; i. 68, 71; ii. 41, 42; ii. 15, 13, sq., 20,
24, 54, 55.] ii. 55. 60. [Ibid., ii. 63, 70.] 61. Ibid., iv. 3. [Keim,
Ibid., p. 46.] 62. Ibid. [v. 5], iv. 23. [Keim, Ibid., p. 51.] 63.
\Ibid., iv. 23, 74, 78, 80, 81, 86, 88, 98.] iv. 99. [iv. 62; Keim, Ibid.,
p. 63.] 64. Strauss: Der alte und der neue Glaube, p. 228 [3d Eng.
ed., Lond., 1874, vol. ii., p. 37.] 65. Strauss, pp. 200, 202, sq. [Eng.
ed., ii., pp. 11, 13-15.] 66. [Orig. c. Cels., i. 27; Keim, Ibid., p. 11.]
67. Ibid., viii. 63 [Keim, Ibid., p. 135.] 68. Ibid., viii. 66, 67 [Keim,
Ibid., p. 136.]
CHAPTER III.
1. [Jul. Capitolin., Yita Marc. Aurel., 28.] 2. [Dion. Cass., Hist.
Kom., Ixxvi. 15.] 3. Athenagoras, Leg. pro Christ., 26. 4. Philo-
strat., Vit. Sophist., ii. 7. 5. Athenag., 1. c. 6. [This last inscription
may be found in Gruter (Insc, Ant., Amstel., 1707, 4 vols, fol.) p. 748,
7.] ?• [These words in oeteruum renatus occur in an inscription
Corp. Insc. Lat. vol. vi. 1. (510), where may be found a collection of
inscriptions referring to the Taurobolium and Kriobolium.] 8. [Re-
futat., iv. 28, sq.] 9. [Hierocles, Phot., Bibl. Cod., 214.] 10. [Por-
phyry, Plotini Vita, 10.] 11. [Apparently condensed from Plot., En-
nead., iv., lib. i., 1.] 12. [Preef. lib. de philosophia ex oraculis, cited
Euseb., Praep. Ev., iv. 7.] 13. Philostrat., Yit. Apollon., iv. 24. 14.
Ibid., iv. 45. 15. Ibid., vi. 19. 16. Ibid., iv. 3. 17. [Ibid., viii. 10,
12.] 18. [Ibid., viii. 30. Uhlhorn says "in the island of Rhodes;"
Philostratus mentions this version of the story, but connects the voice
from heaven with Crete, not with Lindus in Rhodes.] 19. De Rossi,
Insc. Christ, urbis Romse, p. 9. 20. Ad Scapul., 4. 21. Apol. 37.
22. [Euseb., H. Eccl., v. 21.] 23. Cf. passages in Tert., de Spect., 1,
3; de Idolol., 13, 14; de Cultu Fem.,ii. 11. 24. Tert., de Coron., 1.
25. Tert., de Idolol., 14. " Sed enim plerique jam induxerunt animo
iynoscendum esse, si quando quce ethnici, faciunt, ne nomen blas-
phemetur.'' Cf. de Cult. Fern., ii. 11. 26. Tert., de Fuga in Pers., 12.
27. [On this subject cf. Lightfoot's Essay (Philippians, p. 179, sq.),
and Fisher (Beginnings of Christianity, p. 550, sq.)] 28. [Yet how
strong was this bond may be seen from Clem. Rom., Ep. i. ad Cor.,
particularly the portions recently discovered (cc. 58-63.)] 29. [Dial.
c. Tryph. 39.] 30. Tert., Apol. 32, 39. 31. Orig. c. Cels., viii. 68.
CHAP. IV.] NOTES. 495
CHAPTER IV.
1. Dion. Cass., Hist. Rom., Ixxii. 4. Hippolyt., Refutat., ix. 7.
2. Euseb., H. Eccl., v. 21. Hieron., de vir. illustr., 40,42. Of course
the details of the story awaken incredulity. 3. Tert., ad Scapul.,
4. 4. Spartian. Sever,, 17. 5. Tert., de Fuga in Pers., 12; Ruinart,
p. 120. 6. Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 1, 2,5. 7. Ruinart, p. 86. 8. Ibid.,
p. 26. 9.Lamprid., Alex. Sever., 28 (29); 50 (51); 48 (49). 10. No
more is implied in the words of Lampridius (21 (22)): Judcels
primlerjia reservavit, Chrlstianos esse j^assus est. Cf . Gorres, Zeitschr.
fiir wiss. Theol., 1877, p. 48, sq. 11. Jul. Capitolin., Maximin., 19.
12. H. Eccl., vi. 28. 13. Lipsius, Chronol. d. rom. Bischofe, p. 194,
sq. 14. [Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 17. Pallad., Episc. Helenopol. Hist.
Lausiaca, c, 147. (Migne, Patrol. Lat., vol. Ixxiii. p. 1091.)] 15.
Origen, in Matt., xxiv. 9; Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 28; Firmilian, Ep. ad
Cyprian, Ep. 75, 10. [We number Cyprian's Epp. according to the
edition of Hartel (Wien, 1871), coinciding with the Oxf. Transl.] —
On the whole subject cf. Gorres, Zeitschr. fiir wiss. Theol., 1876, p. 526,
sq., and the review of it by Harnack, Theol. Lit. Zeitung, 131 Marz.]
1877, p. 167. 16. Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 34, 36. ; Jerome (Chronic, ann.,
256. ) calls him the first Christian Emperor. 17. Cyprian, Ep. xi. 18.
De Lapsis, 8. 19. For all these details, cf. Cyprian's Epp. and de Lap-
sis. 20. Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 39. 21. Lipsius, lib. cit., p. 210, doubts
the martyrdom of the last two, and regards them as only confessors.
Cf. also Kraus, Roma Sotterranea, p. 142 [Northcote and Brownlow,
Rom. Sott., p. 142.] 22, Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 41. Cf. Ruinart, Acta, p.
124. 23. Martyrolog. Roman., May, 3d. 24. Euseb., H. Eccl., vi. 39.
25. [Greg. Turon., Hist. Franc, i.28 (Migne, Patrol. Lat., Ixxi. p. 175,
sq.) Tillemont, Memoires, &c., iii., p. 299, sq.] 26. Cypr., Epp.
19, 17, 13, 5. 27. Cypr., Ep. 22. 28. Cypr., Ep. 40. 29. Ep. 11. [Oxf.
Transl. in the main.] 30. Cypr., Ep. 49; de Lapsis. 31. Cypr., Epp.
58, 59; Lib. ad Demetrianum. 32. Euseb., H. Eccl., vii. 11.; Acta
Cypriani, Ruinart, p. 216. Sanctissimi impp. Valei'ianus et Gallienus
prceceperant, ne in aliquibus locis conciliahula Jiant, ne coemeteria in-
grediantur. 33. Cypr., Ep. 80. 34. Otherwise Lipsius, lib. cit., p.
222; cf. Ambrose, de Offic, i. 41. 35. Cf. Kraus, hb. cit., p. 91, sq.
[Northcote and Brownlow, p. 88.] 36. Euseb., H. Eccl., vii. 13, 23.
37. The view is very generally taken that Gallienus proclaimed Chris-
tianity a re%to licita : So Neander, Gieseler, Herzog (Kirchengesch.
p. 55), Gorres (Zeitschr. fiir wiss. Theol., 1877, i. p. 606), and even
Mason (The Persecution of Diocletian (Cambridge, 1876), p. 29.)
Eusebius knows nothing of any such edict, and narrates the martyr-
496 NOTES. [book m.
dom of Marinus as under Gallieuus (Hist. Eccl., vii. 15). Marinus
is usually placed under the usurper Macrianus, but without evidence.
Keim (Aiis dem Urchristenthum, p. 130, note 1.) recognizes no edict of
toleration from Gallienus. 38. Cf. Cypr., Epp. 18, 20. 39. Cypr.,
Ep. 17. 40. According to Cypr., Ep. 20, the confessors had distrib-
uted milia libellorum pads. 41. Cypr., Ep. 21.
BOOK III., CHAPTER I.
1. [The title of the treatise is De testimonio animae, and the phrase
" the soul by nature Christian " does not occur in it, but Apol. c. 17.
Still the phrase fairly describes the subject of the treatise.] 2. [Orig.
c. Cels., i. 80.] 3. Ad Scapul., 2. [Oxf. Transl.]; Apol. 24 [Oxf.
Transl.] 4. Cf. Burckhardt, Die Zeit Constantins d. Gr., [Basel,
1853; p. 333, sq.] Wietersheim, Yolkerwanderung, iii. pp. 163, 483.
5. Lactaut., de Mort. Pers., 27. 6. Yopisc, Probus, 14. 7. Vopisc,
Numerian., 14, 15. 8. [Zosimus, ii. 10 (ed. Bekker, p. 75, 1. 11.)]
Aurel. Yict.. Hist. Kom., Cges., xxxix. 48. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 10:
ut erat pro iimore scrutator rerum futurarum. 9. Lact., Ibid.,
10, 11. 10. Panegyr. Incerti, v. 12: Recipe Jupiter qu(z commo-
dasti. [Panegyr. Vett., W. Jaeger, Norimb. 1778, i. p. 353.] 11. Joh.
Malalas., xii., p. 310. 12. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 10. 13. Cf. Ep. of
Theonas (Routh, Reliq. Sacr., iii. p. 43, 9.) which I regard as belong-
ing to this period. 14. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 15. 15. Lact., Inst. v. 2.
Mordacius scripsit — composuit enim libellos duos non contra Christi-
anos, ne inimice insectari videretur, sed ad Christianos ut humane
ac benigne consulere putaretur. 16. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 11. 17.
Ruinart, p. 302, sq. 18. Opinions still differ about Constantine, yet
a reconciliation seems approaching. Till recently, by setting aside
the testimony of Lactantius (de Mort. Pers.), the persecution has
been explained as arising solely from Diocletian's political views and
his personal attitude towards Heathenism, but Mason (lib. cit. ) goes
to the other extreme. He makes Diocletian a kind of Constantine
who was only forced against his will to play the part of Decius. Cf.
the review by Harnack (Theol. Lit. Zeitung, 1877, p. 169.) The truth
lies midway between. 19. Hierocles is designated by Lactantius
(Inst. V. 2, and de Mort. Pers., 16) as the real fountain-head of the
persecution. 30. Euseb., Vit. Const., 50, 51. Lact., de Mort. Pers.,
11: hanc moderoMonem tenere conatus est, ut earn rem sine sanguine,
transigi juberet. 21. Euseb., H. Eccl., viii. 2; Mart., Falsest, proleg.,
1. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 13. Cf. Mason, lib. cit., App., p. 343. 22.
''Legitime coctus'^ (Lact.,de Mort. Pers., 13.) 23. Ruinart, p. 382.
CHAP, n.] NOTES. 497
(Acta Saturnini, Dativi, &c.) 24. Euseb., H. EccL, viii. 6. § 8. 26.
Ibid., § 10. 26. Euseb., Mart. PaL^st., 3. § 1. Mason (lib. cit., p.
212) believes that in the Passio S. Sabini the edict is to be found
in a more authentic form. But the whole character of this Passio
renders this doubtful. 27. The inscriptions still often quoted, in
which Diocletian is described as the destroyer of the Christian name,
I hold to be spurious. Cf. Mason, lib. cit., p. 217. 28. Euseb., H.
Eccl., viii. 11. § 1. 29. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 21. 30. Cf. on Mutila-
tion, Keim, Aus dem Urchristenthum, p. 198, sq. 31. Euseb., H.
Eccl., viii., and Mart. Palest. 32. Euseb., H. Eccl., viii, 12. Am-
brose and Chrysostom treat them simply as martyrs; Jerome (ad Jonas,
i. 12.) expressly justifies them. Otherwise Augustine, De Civit. Dei, i.
26. 33. Euseb., H. EccL, viii. 17. Lact., de Mort. Pers., 34. 34.
Euseb., H. Eccl., ix. 1-8.
CHAPTER II.
1. [Euseb., Vit. Const., i. 40.] 2. Euseb., Vit. Const., i. 28-32.
Differently Lact., de Mort. Pers., 44. 3. Constantine's course is
viewed as wholly political by Burckliardt (lib. cit. ). Keim (Der Ueber-
tritt Constantins d. Gr. zum Christenthum, Ziirich, 1862) brings out
the religious motives. With Zahn (Constantin d. Gr. und die Kirche,
Hanover, 1876) these become still more prominent. Cf. also Dieck-
hoff (Rostock Theol. Zeitschr., 1863, iv. 1.) 4. Lact., de Mort. Pers.,
48. Hactenusfiet, ut sicut superius comprehensum est, Bivinus juxta
nos favor, quein in tantis sumus rebus experti, per omne tempus pros-
pere successibus nostris cum beatitudine nostra publica perseveret.
5. Euseb., H. Eccl., ix. 9. 6. I stand by this view of the cross-story.
If Keim (lib. cit., p. 23, sq.) has shown many of the details to be
incredible, even impossible, that does not rob the story of a historic
basis. And when Zahn (lib. cit., p. 14.) gets rid of the story by say-
ing that the Crucified One could have shown His cross to Constantine
only as a means of salvation, but not as an instrument of magic, he
makes a twofold mistake. For, first, when Constantine told the
story, the cross was no longer to him a mere instrument of magic, and,
second, Zahn ignores the fact, that God does condescend to those
who are only on the way to faith. 7. Hitherto it has been assumed
(even by Herzog, lib. cit., p. .59) that there were (besides the one
issued by Galerius, A.D. 311) two edicts of toleration, one A.D. 312,
and one 313. It is true Keim [Theol. Jalirb., 1852, p. 217J had shown
that this was" a mistake, but from the circumstance that the edict of
313 refers to limitations of toleration, he concluded that Constantine
and Licinius must have issued together, in 312, an edict which tole-
498 NOTES. [book ra.
rated Christianity only at a disadvantage. Zahn (lib. cit., p. 33) and
Mason (lib. cit., p. 327, note) have shown that the references of the
edict of 313 are not to any previous edict, but to the no longer extant
directions to the officials which accompanied the edict of Galerius,
A.D. 311. There was no edict of A.D. 312. [For the edict of Milan
see Euseb., H. Eccl., x. 5.] 8. [Migne, Patrol. Lat., viii. p. 180; Cod.
Theodos., xvi. 2. 1-7; Euseb., H. Eccl.,x. 7.] 9. [Euseb., Yita Const.,
i. 42; ii. 21,45; iv. 26, 28; H. Eccl., x. 6.] 10. [Cod. Theodos., xvi.
2. 4.] 11. [Sozom., H. Eccl., i. 8; cf. Aug. Serm., Ixxxviii. (ed.
Bened., T. v.) and the comments of Jac. Gothofredus in Cod. Theo-
dos., ix. 12. 1; ix. 18. 1.] 12. [Migne, p. 119, sq.; Cod. Theodos., ix.
40. 2.; Cod. Just., ix. 47.] 13. [Migne, p. 293, sq.; Cod. Theodos.,
XV. 12. 1, 2; Socr., H. Eccl., i. 18; Sozom., i. 8; Euseb., Vita Const.,
iv. 25.] 14. [Migne, p. 198; Cod. Theodos., ix. 3. 1.] 15. [Celibate
and childless: Migne, p. 189; Cod. Theodos., viii. 16. 1. Adultery:
Migne, pp. 298, sq., -307, sq., 312, sq.; Cod. Theodos., ix. 7. 1, 2; ix.
9. 1. Rape: Migne, p. 194; Cod. Theodos., ix. 24. 1. Incest: Migne,
p. .397; Cod. Theodos., iii. 17. 1, 2; Cod. Just., v. 5. 3. Divorce:
Migne, p. .353, sq.; Cod. Theodos., iii. 16. 1.] 16. [The exposure of
children does not seem to have been expressly forbidden, but Con-
stantine sought to suppress it by removing all the motives for it, and
Christian writers unequivocally condemned the practice. Cf. Lac-
tant., Inst., vi. 20. Tarn igitur nefarium est exponere quam necare ;
Cod. Theodos., xi. 27. 1, 2; v. 8. 1, with the comments of Gothofre-
dus; Cod. Just., vi. 8. 1.] 17. [Migne, p. 121; Cod. Theodos., xi.
27. 1.] 18. [Migne, p. 236, sq., 397; Cod. Theodos., xi. 27. 2.] 19.
[Migne, p. 214, sq., 223, sq.; Cod. Theodos., iv. 7. 1.] 20. [Euseb.,
Vita Const., iv. 18, 23; Cod. Theodos., ii. 8. 1; venerdbili die soils,
Cod. Just., iii. 12, 3.] 21. [Euseb., Vita Const., iv. 19, sq.; Migne, p.
73, sq.; Cod. Just., iii. 12. 1, 3; Schaff, Ch. Hist., ii. 106.] 22.
[Migne, p. 202; Cod. Theodos., xvi. 10. 1, 3; Euseb., Vita Const., iii.
55, 58; iv. 25.] 23. [Cod. Theodos., ix. 16. 1, 2; Neander, Ch. Hist.
(2d Am. ed.), ii. p. 20, n. 4.] 24. [Euseb., Vita Const., iv. 62; cf.
Heinichen in loc. (vol. iii. p. 506); the meaning of Constantine's
words is doubtful,] 25. [Euseb., Vita Const., iv. 62.] 26. On the per-
secution by Licinius, cf. Gorres: Kritische Uiitersuchung der Licini-
anischen Christenverfolgung, Jena, 1875. 27. Euseb., Vita Const.,
i. 51-53. 28. E>id., ii. 20. 29. This is plain from the subsequent
edict of Constantine in A.D. 324. [Cf. Euseb., Vita Const., ii. 30-41;
Migne, Patrol. Lat., viii. p. 265, sq.] 30. Cf. Gorres, lib. cit., p. 104,
sq. 31. Euseb., Vit. Const., ii. 5. 32. Und., ii. 56. 33. [Ibid., iii.
49.] 34. [E)id., iii. 3.] 35. [Julian Imp., Caesares (ed. Spanheim,
1696, p. 329, c.)]
CHAP, ra.l NOTES. 499
CHAPTER III.
1. Ambrose, relat. Symmachi respondet (Ep. i. 18. § 31, sq., p. 886);
relatio Symmachi, urbis prsefecti (§45, p. 872) state that the altar
was removed by Constantius. 2. [Euseb., vita Const., iv. 17, 29, 55.]
3. [Ibid., iii. 16-23; Sozom., H. EccL, i. 17, 20, 21.] 4. Euseb., vita
Const., iv. 24. 5. [Cf. Cod. Tlieodos., De Episcopali Judicio, 1.] 6.
Jul. Firmic., Matern. de Errore Prof an. Relig. [17. cf. 21, 29.] 7. Cod.
Theodos., xvi. 10. 2. 8. Ibid., xvi. 10. 4. 9. [Cf. Ibid., xv. 10. 6; ix.
16. 1-6; Ammian. Marcell., xix. 12. 14: Si qui remedia Quartance
vel doloris alterius collo gestaret . . . pronunciatus reus capitis inte-
rihat] 10. [Ammian. Marcell., xv. 2. 7; Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 2.]
11. [Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 1; Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 2; Sozom., H.
EccL, V. 2; Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 58 D (ed. MorelL, Colon., 1699.)]
12. [Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 1; Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 2; Greg. Naz., Or.
iii. p. 58 C] 13. [Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 1, 13.] 14. Libanius (ed. Reiske,
3v. 8°, Altenburg, 1784-1797). Epit. i. p. 526, sq. On this part of
Julian's life cf. Friedrich Rode, Gesch. der Reaction Kaiser Julians
gegen die Christl. Kirclie, Jena, 1877, p. 27, sq. 15. [Socr., H. Eccl.,
iii. 1; Rode, p. 30.] 16. [Cf. Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 1.] The exact date is
given by Jul., Ej). 51, in which Julian writes (near the end of A.D.
362) that he had been a heathen eleven years. Cf. Libanius, Pros-
phon., i. p. 408; Rode, lib. cit., p. 31. 17. On Julian's inner his-
tory, cf. H. Adrien Naville, Julian I'Apostat et sa- philosophic du
Polytheism, Paris, 1877, p. 5, sq. 18. [Jul. ad Athen., p. 277 A; Am-
mian. Marcell., xv. 8. 4-17; Rode, lib. cit., p. 40.] 19. Ammian. Mar-
cell., xvi. 5. 4-6. 20. [Ibid., xxi. 2. 4. Rode, lib. cit., pp. 34, 41.]
21. Zosimus, iii. 8. 22. Ammian. Marcell., xxii. 5. 1; Vienne, J6id.,
xxi. 2. 5. 23. [Ammian. Marcell., xxii. 5.] 24. [J6M., xxii. 4; Socr., H.
Eccl., iii. 1.] 25. Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 11. 26. [Libanius, Panegyr., i. p.
394, sq.l 27. Jul., Epp. 7, 42, 43, 52. [Rode, lib. cit., p. 50, sq.] 28.
An Ep. of Julian in Hermes [Zeitschr. f. classiche Philologie, ed. HUb-
ner, Berlin, 1874, iv. p. 98; cf. Rode, lib. cit., pp. 39, 69.] 29. Greg.
?^az.. Or. iii., pp. 75, [83 B; Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 17; Theodoret, H.
Eccl., iii. 16, sq.] 30. [Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 75 D; Sozom., H. Eccl.,
V. 17.] 31. The stoiy is told, Greg. Naz., Or. iii. [p. 84, sq.] ; Sozom.,
H. Eccl., V. 17. Rode is inclined to doubt its truth, but it rests on
good evidence. 32. [Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 13; Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii.
8.] 33. [Cod. Theod., x. 3. 1; xii. 1. 50; xv. 1. 8, 10; Cod. Just.,
xi. 69. 1. Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 5; Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 6; Phil-
ostorg., vii. 4.] 34. Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 5. [Cf. Libanius, Epit. i.
p. 564, Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 86 D, sq.] 35. [Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 14.]
500 NOTES. [book ra. chap. m.
36. Jul., Ep. 49 to Arsacius, High-priest of Galatia, and Ep. 63 to
Theodore, High-priest of Asia. 37. Jul., Ep. 42. 38. [The law may be
found. Cod. Theodos., xiii. 3. 5.] 39. Eufinus, H. Eccl., i. 32 [also
Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 8] erroneously gives the law the latter mean-
ing. [Against this, Julian's words Ep. 42: "We would not throw any
obstacle in the way of the youth (among the Christians) who wish to
go (to classic lectures) " are decisive. On this whole subject cf. Am-
mian. Marcell., xxii. 10. 7; xxv. 4. 20; Theodoret., H. Eccl., iii. 8;
Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 12, 16.; Greg. Naz., Or. iii. pp. 51, sq., 97.; also
Rode, lib. cit., p. 66 and note.] 40. [Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 97 B.]
41. [Cf. Greg. Naz., Or. iv. p. 122 D.] 42. [Cf. Ibid., iii. p. 51, sq,]
43. Eufinus, H. Eccl., i. 35 [Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 19, 20]. 44. [Jul.,
Misopog. (ed. Spanheim), p. 363.] 45. The Misopogon, the chief
original document on Julian's stay in Antioch. 46. [Jul., Misopog.,
p. 338, sq., 360, sq., et passim. On Julian's sacrifices cf. Ammian.
Marcell., xxii. 14; xxv. 4; Sozom,, H. Eccl., v. 19; Socr., H. Eccl.,
iii. 17.] 47. Ammian. Marcellin., xxii. 13. 48. [I6i(i., xxii. 13. 1,3.
Misopog., pp. 346, 361.] 49. [Ammian. Marcellin., xxii. 13. 2; Soz-
om., H. Eccl., V. 8; Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 12.] 50. [Rufinus, H.
Eccl., 1. 32; Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 13.J 51. [Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 13.]
52. [I6icZ.,iii.,15.] 5Z. [Ibid.] 54. [Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 92 A.] 55.
[Greg. Naz., Or. iii. p. 91 B.] 66. [Ammian. Marcell., xxiii. 2. 3.] 67.
[Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 23; slightly different, Sozom., H. Eccl., vi. 2.]
58. [On the campaign cf. Ammianus Marcell., xxiv., xxv. ; Theodoret,
H. Eccl., iii. 25; Sozom,, H. Eccl., iii. 12, sq.; Zosimus, iii. 11-29, &c.]
59. Ammian, who was in the army, narrates Julian's death, xxv.
3. 1. The doubt whether the fatal spear came from among the Per-
sians, or from some one in the Eoraau army, is of very early origin.
The heathen [notably Libanius, Socr., H. Eccl. vi. 1, 2] accused the
Christians of treacherously murdering the Emi3eror; but the way in
which Ammian mentions this rumor gives no ground for the accusa-
tion. 60. [Philostorgius, H. Eccl., vii. 15; Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii.
25; Sozom. vi. 2,] The cry, "Nazarene {or Galilean), thou hast con-
quered," is not found earlier than Theodoret, and cannot therefore
be regarded as possessing much evidence in its favor. Here, as
often, legend has put into the mouth of the hero a word not really
historical, but expressive of the real historical situation, and there-
fore, when once invented, always brought into the story. 61. [Rufi-
nus, H. Eccl,, i. 32; Socr., H. Eccl., iii. 14; Sozom., H. Eccl., v. 5;
Theodoret, H. Eccl., iii. 5: yet no one of these contains exactly the
foi-m nubecula est, transibiL]
IlfDEX.
Abeona, 31.
Abgar Bar Mann, 265.
Abitina, 410.
Abonoteichos, 318.
Abrabam, 82.
Acbatius, martyr, 2.3-1.
Acte, 94, 246.
Adonis, mytb of, 32, 33; gardens, 443,
454.
^lian, 313.
^schylus, 72, 120; monnraent to, 192.
^sculapius, -59, 319.
Agatha, 368.
Africa, 19, 59, 83, 111, ILS, 127, 273, 342,
356, 376, 410, 425, 431.
Agape. See Love- Feast.
Agrippa, King, 122.
Agrippa, the fake of, 103.
Agrippina, 94.
Alcibiadcs, 97, 99.
Alemanni, 362.
Alexander the G-reat, 65, 98, 473, 475.
Alexander Scverus, 272 sq., 313, 317, 334,
359 sq.
Alexander of Abonoteichos, 318-320, 325.
Alexander, Bishop of Jerusaleni, 369.
Alexandria, 17, 20, 25, 60, 64, 113, 356,
368 sq.; Jews in, 83, 84; church of,
220.
Almsgiving. See CImrch.
Alps, the, 68, 424; Pass of St. Bernard,
30.
Araatius, 262.
Ambrosius, 360.
Ammonius, 326 sq.
Amulets, 17, 63, 317, 452.
Amphitheatres, the, 124 sq.
Anacreon, 74.
Anatolia, 368.
Andrew, the ajjostle, 220.
Anna Perenna, festival of, 43.
Annona, 55.
Anti-Christ (jSTero) , 248 sq.
Antinoiis, deification of, 62, 487.
Antioch, 17, 20, 83, 113, 262, 362, 369, 402.
442, 453, 461, 470, 472 ; benevolence of
church of, 203; missionary centre, 219;
cathedral of, 474; numerous member-
Bhip of its cburcb, 402.
Antioehus the Great, 83.
Antipas, martyr, 251 .
Antium, 245.
Antisthenes, 144.
Antoninus, Arrius, 262; Pius, 262 sq.,
264; Marcus Aurelius. See JIarcns.
Anubis, .314.
Aper, 308.
Aphrodite, 144; Anadyoraene, 98; Cni-
dian. ih.
Apollo, .36, 39, 296, 319, 447, 470 ; the
Milesian. 407.
Apollodorus, 08.
Apollonia, 30'.).
Apollonius, 356.
Apollonius of Tyana, 279, 331-333.
Apologies, 266 sq., 391 sq.
Apologists, 266 sq., 281, 331 sq.
Apostles' Creed, the, .348.
Apostles, church of the, 442.
Apostles, death of (Peter and Paul), 249.
Appian Way, the, 67. 83.
Apulcius, 314, 320 sq.
Aquila, 221.
Arcadia, 46.
Arius, Arianisra, 449, 463.
Aristides, 265.
Aristotle, 97, 105, 132, 276, 326, 4.57.
Aristophanes, 47.
Ai'istophanes of Byzantium, 98.
Armenia Minor, 439.
Artabiiis, 461.
Arteraidorns, 318.
Artemis, 45.
Arvales, the, 44, 60.
Aschera, 33.
Asia, 16, 33.
Asia Minor, 23, 32, 83, 84, 288, 342.
Asinius Pollio, 80.
Aspasia, 98, 99.
Astarte, 63.
Athanasius, 445, 477.
Athenagoras. 165, 166, 265 sq., 296.
Athene, 37, 70.
Athens, 19, 21, 23, 25, 27, 29, 105, 264, 470.
Atheism, 51.
Atlas, Mount, 94.
Attellana, 120.
Atticus, 132.
501
502
ESTDEX.
Attys, 314.
Atidientes, 389.
Augustus, 13, 15, 16, 24, 38, 52, 54, 57, 64,
109, 110, 121, 135, 136, 278.
Augustus (the title), 397, 406, 413.
Augustaks, 59.
Aurelian, 110, 376, 395.
Aurelius. See Marcus.
Autolycus. See Theophilua.
Avidius Cassius, 293.
Baal, 33.
Babylas, 369, 471.
Babylon, 82, 219.
Babylonia, 83.
Bacchanalia, the, 64.
Bar Cocheba, 254.
Barnabas, 155 ; on giving, 197.
Bartholemew, the apostle, 220.
Basilides, 357.
Bellona, 459.
Benevolence, of the Christians, 191-204;
not a virtue of antiquity, 191 sq.; in-
stances of among the heathen, 273 sq.
Bernard, St., the Pass of, temple of Ju-
piter in, 30.
Bethlehem, 442.
Bible, a heathen, 330.
Bishops, 201, 349-351, 450.
Bithynia, 255.
Black Sea, the, 111.
Blandina, 255 sq.
Bosphorus, 436, 442, 447.
Britain, 18, 83, 145.
Burial-clubs, 195, 238.
Byzantinism, 449.
Cadiz, 15.
Caecilius, 224; arguments against Chris-
tianity, 225-231.
Cseculus, 31.
Caesar, Julius, 105, 109, 123; his supersti-
tion, 52; his deification by the people,
56; his scepticism, 75; the title, 397,
412 sq. ; the Caesar-gods, 59.
Caius, 126.
Caligula, 60, 71, 96, 100, 136.
Callistus, catacomb of, 222.
Campania, 30.
Camulodunum, 19.
Candelifera, 31.
Caudle hymn, 183, 184.
Candidus. See Vesproniua.
Cannae, 123.
Canon. See Church.
Capitol.the, 55, 123.
Capitoline Hill, 315.
Cappadocia, 360, 455.
Captivity, The, 82.
Caracalla, 276, 310, 320, 359.
Cardea, 31.
Carlsburg, 320.
Carpenter, Jesus the, 188, 469, 473.
Carthage, 264, 339, 351, 357, 370, 375, 378.
Cassius, C, Speech of, 136, 137.
Catacombs, the, 103, 222, 238, 368, 372, 374,
376.
Catechumenate. See Church.
Cato, 30, 75, 134, 135, 275, 285.
Celerinus, 378.
Celibacy, laws against, 102, 174; relation
of Christianity to, 175.
Celsus, 158, 159, 229, 233, 269, 278 sq., 293,
296-306, 334, 353.
Cerfis, 32.
Ceylon, 36.
Chaldeans, 63, 65.
Charlemai^ne, 443.
Cherchelir490.
Childlessness, 102.
Chi idren , 102 ; effect of slavery upon, 138 ;
rights of, 182 sq., 212 sq. ; baptism of,
183; training of, 273; charities for,
273 sq.
Chrestus, 242.
Christ, 66, 152, 155, 156 sq., passim; a
heathen counterpart to, 279, 331-334.
See Jesics, Carpenter, Nazarene.
Christianity, aids to its extension, 21, 90;
its influence on the study of nature,
68 ; effect of its offer of eternal life, 77,
160; first inti'oduced true benevolence,
110 ; true humanity its product, 141 ; its
restorative power, 143; relation in, be-
tween faith and life, ib. ; expected
universal dominion, 152; its resources
in opposition to Heathenism, 152; im-
pression made by it on the heathen,
153 sq. ; how preached, 150, 157 ; for the
poor and sinful, 157-159 ; recognized the
rights of children, 182; transformed
the relation between masters and ser-
vants, 184, 185; required benevolence,
191 ; its encounter with the Roman State,
217 sq. (see Persecution) ; its absolute
claims, 218; how first diffused, 221; by
whom received, 221-223; by whom de-
spised, 223-226 ; early preached in Rome,
241 ; first collision with Heathenism,
249 ; completion of its separation from
Judaism, 253; became an illegal reli-
gion, 255; influence, 264-282; method of
the Apologists in its defence, 266 sq. ;
attack of Celsus on, 158, 159, 297 sq. ;
re-action in, 336-354. See Christians,
Church.
Christians, the early, refuse to worship
the Emperor, 60, 61, 233, 234 ; congrega-
tional life among, 164, 165 ; their conduct,
165-190; surrounded by heathen cus-
toms, 171-173; charges against, 226-234;
why adjudged guilty of treason, 231-
234; how protected, 238, 239. ^gq Be-
nevolence, Church, Martyrdom, Wor-
ship.
Church, the, its discipline, 173, 174, 339-
342, 344, 377 sq. ; regulated duties of
master and slave, 186-7; collegia illi-
cita, 237 ; martyrs of, 247, 249, 253, 260,
262, 288-291, 295 sq., 339, 356-359, 366,
363-376, 405 sq., 410, 415 sq., 439,472;
purity and simplicity of, 249 ; as a com-
munity, 270; its influence, 270, 271 sq.,
402 ; of the people, 338 sq. ; persecu-
tions of, flight from, 211, 212; the ten,
23G; under Nero, 245-250; Domitian,
INDEX.
503
252 sg.,' Trajan, 255-262 ; Hadrian. 262
sg, ; Antoninus Pius, 262 sq.; Marcus
Aurelius, 287-297; Commodus, 356;
Septimius Scverus, 356 sg. ; Masimi-
nu3 the Thracian, 360; Decius, 365;
Gallus, 373; Valerian, 373; Gallienus,
376; Diocletian, 407-411; Galerius, 412-
417; Maximinus Daza, 419-423; Maxen-
tius, ibid.; Licinius, 438-440; Julian,
468 sg. ; a conventicle, 336 sg. ; pietism,
837; in time of persecution, 339 sq.,
367 sg.; tradition, 347 sq.; canon, 348;
naturalization of, on earth, 344; officers
of, 349-351; polity, 349-352; ecclesias-
ticism in, 350-352; its confessors, 372,
377-381; almsgiving and benevolence of,
202, 203, 370, 468 ; worship, 372, 386-389 ;
catechumenate, 387 sq. ; and State, 443
sg., 449 sq. Cf. also Bishops, Creed,
Deacons, Laity, Lapsed, Lord's Sup-
per, Presbyter, Priest.
Cicero, 34, 43, 63, 64, 69, 74, 132, 193, 272,
276, 285.
Circus, the, 124.
Circus Maximus, 119, 122, 123.
Claudiales, the, 59.
Claudius, 19, 54, 57, 61, 96, 109, 128, 134.
Clemens. See Flavins.
Clement of Alexandria, on marriage, 175.
Clement of Rome, 153 sg., 247.
Cleophas, 262.
Colchester, 19.
Commodus, 273, 306, 309, 334, 338, 355.
Como, 274.
Competentes, 389.
Confessors. See Church.
Constans, 452.
Constantius, Chlorus, 412 ; brother of Con-
stantine, 455 ; son of Constantine, 452-
462, 466.
Constantine the Great, 413, 419-452, 455
sg., 462, 478 ; II., 452.
Corinth, 17, 23, 59.
Constantinople, 436, 459, 465.
Conventicle. See Church.
Cornelius, 368.
Corn-laws, 109.
Council, the supreme, 85.
Crassus, 104.
Creed. See Apostles', Church.
Crescens, 269, 290.
Crete, 86, 3-33.
Cross, the, and Constantine, 425-431 ; pun-
ishment of the, abolished, 434.
Ctesiphon, 474.
Cunina, 31.
Curubis, 374.
Cybele, 63.
Cynics, the, 147.
Cyprian, 199, 201, 208, 211, 351, 353, 366
sq., 369, 372, 374 sg.
Dacia, 395, 459.
Dahnatia, 398.
Damascus, 89.
Danube, the, 15, 18, 24, 66, 83, 85.
Daphne, 470.
Deaconesses, 177, 198, 201.
Deacons, 349.
Decius, 201, 237, 361, 365, -373. 411, 445.
Delphi, 41,59.
Demeter, 323.
Demosthenes, 98, 469.
De Rossi, 222.
Diana, 48, 59, 313, 362, 487.
Diaspora, the, 82.
Diocletian, 146, 317, 330, 393-414. 444.
Diognetus, Epistle to, 166, 167, 268, 486.
Diomed, 70.
Dionysius of Alexandi'ia, 374; of Halicar-
nas.sus, 49.
Discipline. See Church.
Dispersion, the, congregations of, 85.
Dioscurus, 369.
Divorce, introduction of, into Rome, 99.
Docetists, 346.
Domitian, 12?, 132, 237, 252. 333.
Domitilla. See Flavia.
Domna. See Julia.
Dorystera, 466.
Druid worship exterminated, 19.
Druidess, 398.
East, the, 17, 19, 20, 25, 42. See OHent.
Easter, 389.
Ecclesiasticism. See Church.
Edessa, mission centre, 219.
Educa, 31.
Egypt, 32, 56, 83, 86, 127, 355, 376; ma-
teriahstic tendency of its religion, 32;
animal gods of, 66.
Eifel, the, 113.
Elagabalus, 310, 315, 334, 359 sq.
Elder. See Presbyter.
Eleusis, 98, 161, 323.
Ehs, 59.
Emesa, 333.
Emperors, Age of the : its materialism,
32; the Julian, 140; the soldier, 145;
worship of, 56 sq., 233; principles which
led them to persecute, 234-236.
Einpusce, 316.
England, 16.
Ennius, 285.
Ephesus, 17, 69, 83, 332, 362, 453, 457;
seven sleepers of, 445.
Epictetus, on happiness, 70.
Epona, 32.
Ergastula, the, 135.
Esus, 39.
Euripides, 140.
Europe, 19.
Eusebius, 338, 360, 426 sg., 429.
Fabian, 67.
Fabianus, 368.
Family, the, 97 sg., 174 sq.
Fasts, 171.
Faleria, 43.
Farinus, 31.
Faustina, 274.
Felicitas, 41, 357 sq.
Fetish, a, Nero's worship of, 63.
Fidenza, 195.
Flavia, the gens, 89.
Flavia Domitilla, 252.
604
INDEX.
FlavianuB, 376.
Flavius Clemens, 252 nq.
Flavlus Philostratus. See Philostratua.
Florence, 106.
Flo res, 132.
Forculus, 31.
Forum, the, 147.
France, 47, 113.
Franks, 361.
Freedmen : their pernicious influence on
Roman society, 139 sq.
Friedlander, 123.
Fronto, 228, 269 sq., 272, 285 sq., 294.
Fucinus, lake of, 128.
Fuhninata, 292.
Fulvia, the gens, 89.
Gabinius, 105.
Galatia, 468.
Galen, 76, 116.
Galerius, 395, 403, 405-419, 422 sq., \Tl,
472.
Galileans (Christians) , 466, 469, 472 sq.
Gallienus, 313, 376.
Gallus, Emperor, 373.
Gallus, brother of Julian, 455, 458.
Games, public, 119-131, 434; importance
of, in ancient life, 119 sq. ; renounced by
the early Christians, 229 sq.
Gaul, 18, 19, 25, 60, 66, 83, 105, 311, 412,
458 sq., 475. Gauls, the, 63.
Genius of Rome. See Rome.
Gentiles, the, 87.
Genvflectentes, 389.
Germanicus, 317.
Germany, 47, 145.
Germans, 26, 104, 361, 395, 443, 458 sq.
Geta, 320, 358.
Getulius, 262.
Gladiatorial sports, 190.
Glyphon, 319.
Gnosticism, .338, 344-349.
Golden Ass, 320 sq.
Gospel, the, 148.
Goths, 311, 362, 373, 395.
Gracchi, the, 71.
Greece, 18, 23, 25, 26, 32, 45, 59, 66, 71, 72,
83, 89, 90, 97, 130, 470; its influence on
Rome, 19 sq. ; in promoting unbelief,
34,47.
Greeks, the, their worship, 33 sq., 98;
fickleness, 47 ; conception of the other
world, 73; early purity, 97; ignorance
of true family life, 98; importance to
them of the theatre, 120; lack of hu-
mility, 144.
Greek language, its prevalence, 20; reli-
gion, 45; idealized Nature, 33; human-
ized its deities, 34.
Hades, 74.
Hadrian, 68, 2^2 sq., 265, 273, 275, 280.
Ham, descendants of, 97.
Heathenism, multiplicity of its deities,
29; its.homogencitj', .36; causes of its
strength in the Roman Emj^ire, 41 sq. ;
its centre of relig'ous unity, 60; de-
manded new gods, 65; its bankruptcy.
73; its hopelessness, 75, 90; its great
defect, 130, 143 sq. ; re-action of, 143,
308-335.
Heaven, a heathen, 321.
Hecebolius, 457.
Hegesippus, 253.
Helena, 432, 447.
Hellenists, 457.
Herbart, 130.
Hercules, 36, 129; Pillars of, 15; wor-
shipped, 36.
Here, 34.
Hermes Paytnuphis, 38.
Hesiod, 346.
Hierocles, 404, 407.
Hilaria, 314.
Hilarianus, 410.
Hippolytus, 323.
Homer, 70, 72, 73, 114, 346, 469.
Horace, 87, 101.
lazyges, 292.
Ida, Mount, 86.
Ignatius, 262.
Ilium. See ^^eiv llmm,.
Illyrians, .362.
lUuminism, 92.
ImmortaUty, belief in, 67, 73 sq. ; disbe-
lief in, 75 s^-. ; influence of the Christian
assurance of, 77, 155 •s^'.
India, 127, 220.
Infanticide, practice of, 101.
Influence of the Ciiurch. See Church.
Inscriptions, 16, 38,41. 43. 44, 56, 67, 75,
98, 104, 124, 125, 272-275, 315, 320 sq., 486.
Irenseus, 352.
Isaiah, 80.
Isis, 63, 65, 314, 322 .S'^., 325.
Isidorus, C. Crecilius Claudius, 135.
Israel, 80; its mission twofold, 81 sq.
See Judaism.
Italy, 15, 19, 25, 83, 106, 137, 414, 424 sq.,
431.
Japhetic nations, the, 97.
Jerusalem, 38, 60, 85, 104, 239, 252 sq.,
262, .369, 442.
Jesus, 222, 252, 262, 297 sq. See Christ,
Carpenter, Nazurene.
Jewish Christians, 254; theology of, 346.
Jews, 60, 63, 65, 83, 245,252, 296; heathen
expectation of their supremacy, 80;
their dispersion, SI sq. ; their chief
business, 84; privileges of, ib., 85; reli-
gious unity, 85; hated, 86 .9^/. ; influence
of, 87 sq. ; persecuted the Christians,
239.
Judaism, 80, 81-91, 253 sq., 298.
Judas, brother of James, grandsons of,
253.
Julia, 94.
JuliaDomna, 278, 333; Maesa, 333; Mam
ra£Ba, 333, 359.
Julian, 442 sq., 447, 450, 455-477.
Juliana, 360.
Julian house, the, 142.
Junius Rusticus, 290 sq., 294.
Juno, :>4, 36, .38, 43, 325.
INDEX.
606
Jupiter, 34, 35, 36, 39, 46, 65, 78, 144, 252,
292, 335, 399, 412; Amnion Anubis, 38,
Justin Martyr, 260, 2G5-268, 281, 290 sq.,
353; his conversion to Christianity,
165 sq. ; description of Christian wor-
ship, 162, 163; testimony to Christian
conduct, 166, 167.
Juvenal, 53, 57, 84, 86, 101, 123, 247, 314.
Kephro, 374.
Kriobolium, 322.
Labarum, 425, 432.
Lactantius, on benevolence, 198.
Laity, 351.
Zamice, 316.
Laniffta, the, 126.
Lanuvium, inscription from, 487.
Lapsed, treatment of the, 340, 343, 377 sq.
Larissa, 264, 321.
Lases, 45.
Latin language, its diffusion, 20.
Laurentius, 201, 374 sq.
Laws against the Christians, 255, 257,294,
365, 373, 374, 393, 405, 408, 410 sq., 438 sq.,
466, 468 sq. ; general laws employed
against them, 237, 490; favoring Chris-
tianity and against Heathenism, 418,
428, 431-436, 441, 452 sq.
Legacy-hunting, 103.
Lent, 389.
Leonides, .356.
Leontopolis, 83.
Libanius, 453, 458, 473; testimony to
Christian women, 182.
Liber, Father, 41.
Liberty, religious, 392 sq.
Libya, 85.
Licinius, 423, 431, 438, 440, 447.
Limentinus, 31.
Livy, 53, 63, 64; on the state of morals in
Rome, 95.
Locutinus, 31.
Logos-Doctrine of Justin Martyr, 268.
LolUa Paulina, 100.
Londinium, 19.
Lord's Day, 339. See Sunday.
Lord's Prayer, 389.
Lord's Supper, 163, 372, 374, 378, 386, 388.
Louis XIV., 142.
Love-feast {Agape), 22%, 257, 358.
Lucian, 270, 318-320, 324-326, 333; his
testimony as to the state of morals in
Rome, 95.
Lucina, 31.
Lucina, St., 222.
Lucius, 323.
Lucius, Bishop of Rome, 368.
Lucretius, 49, 51, 76.
Lugdunura (Lyons), 294 sq.
Luke, 469.
Lutetia (Paris) , 317.
Lydia, 83.
Lyons, 24. See Lugdunum.
Madaura, 320.
Marcella, 356, 455.
Marcellus, 405 sq.
Marcia, 355.
Marcion, 199.
Marcoraanni, 280.
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, 45, 121, 123,
146, 264 sq., 269 sq., 272, 276, 278 sq.,
287, 293 sq., 306 sq., 309, 311, 319; on
Christianity, 284. See Meditationa,
Church.
Marie Antoinette, necklace of, 100.
Marinus, 376.
Marriage, in Antiquity, 97 sq. ; influence
of Christianity upon, 174-178.
Mars, 36, 45.
Marseillos, 19.
Martial, 24.
Martyrdom, 205-213.
Martyrs, the, honored the Emperor and
the laws. 206, 207; spirit toward their
persecutors, 208, 209; the Scillitan, 208;
not fanatics, 210; their steadfastness,
212, 2'i3. See Church.
^Ifeceiias, Tower of, 24*1.
Moosa. See Julia.
Magic, 316-321.
Mamas, 455.
Mammoea. See Julia.
Mary, wife of Cleophas, 262.
Maternus, Julius Firmicus, quoted, 451.
Matthew, the apostle, 469.
Maxentius, 413, 423-426, 429, 431.
Maximian, 413 sq.
Maximinus Daza, 317, 414, 419, 423, 431 sq.
Maximinus the Thracian, 360.
Maximus, 457.
Medea, 46.
Meditations of Marcus Aurelius, 270, 279,
282-285, 287.
Mediterranean, the, 14.
Melito, 13, 59, 294, 296.
Melytta, 32.
Menander, 44.
Mesopotamia, 280.
Messalina, 95, 96.
Metras, 369.
Middle Ages, the, 146, 147.
Milan, edict of, 399, 427-429, 431.
Miletus, 45.3.
Miltiades, 265, 296.
Milvian Bridge, the, 241, 426, 431.
Miinus, the, 120.
Minucius Felix, 265; the Octavius of, 224,
266.
Miracles, their continuance, 169.
Missions, means of diffusing Christianity,
220.
Mithras, 63, 314 sq., 324, 331, 3-35.
Moloch, 32.
Monotheism, 51 sq. ; its superiority to the
heathen cults, 88.
Montanus, martyr, 376.
Montanus, Montanism, 338, 342-344.
Morals, state of, in ancient heathenism,
92-149; of the early Christians, 165-190.
Moses, 86.
Musculus, Titus LoUius, 67.
Mutilation, 415.
Mysteries, the, 293, 322-326, 330,
Mythology, 328.
506
INDEX.
Nationality, its significance before and
after Clirist, 22.
Nazarene, 476 sq.
Ncoplatonism, 326-330, 380, 400, 403 sq.,
407, 416, 454, 457.
Neptune, 32.
Nero, 55, 57, 61, 62, 63, 71, 80, 93, 103, 115,
116, 123, 136, 275, 393; progress of Hel-
lenism under, 19 ; Golden House of. 111 ;
law of, against pulling down houses for
speculation, 112; his interest in public
games, 119; persecution under, 237,
247-252.
Nerva, 253, 273.
New Ilium, 463.
Nicaea, creed of, 449, 463.
Nicomedia, 20, 396, 407, 409, 412, 432, 442,
453, 457, 470.
Nihilism, 51.
Nile, the, 15, 20, 32, 66; cataracts of, 15.
Noah, 88.
Numerianus, 398.
Numidia, 357.
Numidicus, 370.
Nundina, 31.
Octavia, 246.
Octavian, 106.
Ociavius, the, 223 sq., 266.
CEta, Mount, 129.
Officers of the Church. See Church.
Olives, Mount of, 442.
Oneirocritica, 318.
Orantes, 389.
Orbana, 31.
Orestes, 45.
Orient, the : insuflficiency of its cults, 89.
See EciM.
Origen, 297, 304, 352 sq., 356, 360, 366, 391
sq. ; on alms-giving, 200 ; on early mis-
sion-work, 220.
Orontes, the, 20, 66, 314, 473.
Orphans, 202.
Osiris, myth of, 32.
Otho, 112.
Ovid, 43, 54, 101, 129.
Psetus, Thrasea, 49.
Paganism, its worship destitute of devo-
tion, 161; a State - religion, 235. See
Ueathenism.
Palatine, the, 71.
Palestine, 20, 81, 83, 90, 122.
Palladium, the, 65, 315.
Pan, 43.
Pandateria, 252.
Pantajnus, 265.
Panthera, 298.
Pantheus, 313, 316.
Paraclete, the, 342.
Paris, 19, 39. See Lutetia.
Parthians, 280, 293.
Patrge, 45.
Paul, the apostle, 68, 77, 93, 103, 148, 151,
185, 219, 222, 238, 242, 249.
Paulus, martyrdom of, 209.
Pedanius Seeundus, 136, 137.
Pegasius, 463.
Penelope, 97.
People, Church of the. See Church.
Pergamus, Pergamum, 59, 251.
Pericles, 97.
Perpetua, 357-359.
Persecutions. See Church.
Persians, the, 361 sq., 376, 395, 458 sq.,
470, 473-475.
Persius, 101.
Pertinax, 273.
Peter, the apostle, 219, 249.
Peter, martyr, 409.
Petronius, 30, 48, 49.
Pharisees, the, 88.
Phidias, 71.
Philip, the Arabian, 360, 365; the Aslarch,
2S9 sq.
Philippi, 89.
Philo, on the Roman Empire, 16.
Philosophy, its growth in power, 146; its
small influence upon the people, 148.
Philostratus, 279, 331-334.
Phrygia, 83, 342, 413.
Phryne, 98, 99.
Phylae, 38.
Pietism. See Church.
Pilate, 69.
Pindar, 72.
Pionius, 209.
Placentia, 273.
Plato, 58, 97, 192, 276, 324, 326, 331, 457;
his contempt for the laborer, 105, 158;
on slavery, 132 ; his desire for a revela-
tion, 70.
Plautus, 43, 192.
Pleasure, the fundamental characteristic
of ancient life, 67.
Pliny, 49, 53. 58, 75, 116; the Younger,
124, 223; on life in Rome, 117; on the
Games, 129; letter to Trajan, 162,255;
his public charities, 274 sq.
PoUio, Asinius, 24.
Pontianus, 360.
Ponticus, 295.
Pontus, 439.
Plotinus, 326-328.
Plutarch, 44, 74, 76, 78.
Polity. See Church.
Polybius, on Roman piety, 30.
Polycarp, 208, 288-291.
Pompeii, 113, 122, 125.
Pompey, 30.
Poppsea Sabina, 61, 89, 115, 246.
Porphyry, 330.
Porta Capena, 83.
Porta triumphalis, 124.
Poseidon, festival of, 98.
Potamiaena, 356.
Pothinus, 295.
Potina, 31.
Pozzuoli (Puteoli), 333.
Praeneste, 106.
Praetorian Guard, 310, 314, 334, 424.
Praxiteles, 71, 98.
Presbyter, 349-351.
Priest, 351.
Prisca, 403.
Probus, 263, 395.
INDEX.
607
Proculus, 334, 356.
Propertius, 26.
Proselytes of the gate, 88.
Proteus, 331.
Protocletus of Csesarea, 360.
Ptolemy Epiphanes, 56; Auletes, 105.
Publius, 263 sq.
Publius llutilianus, 319.
Pudens, 263; martyr, 359.
PuteoU, 219,
Pythagoras, 70, 331, 334.
Pythia, 41.
Quadi, 282, 292.
Quadratus, 265,
Quinctilian, 53, 193.
Quinta, 369,
Redemption, the need of, felt, 78; looked
for from the East, 79.
Reformation, 443.
Reformei-s, 348,
Religion in antiquity, 29 sq. See Greek
religion, Roman do.. Heathenism.
Renan, 300,
Retiarii, the, 125.
Revelation, book of, 250,
Rhine, the, 18, 24, 127, 145, 459.
Rhodes, 19.
Rhone, the, 207, 296.
Roman Empire, its providential relation
to Christianity, 13 sq. ; united the cul-
tivated nations, 14; its roads, 15, 219;
intercourse in, 16; its universaUsm,
21 sq. ; spread of unbelief in, 46 sq. ;
of the gospel in, 220,
Roman religion, deified the State, 34 sg. ;
juridical and external, 35; its Emperor-
worship, 38; attempts to restore it,
54 sq. ; consisted of ceremonies, 55.
Romans, the, their endowment, 15, 68; de-
cline, 99 sq. ; laws, 63,132, 136, 141, 490.
Rome, 13-20, 22, 24-26, 34, 35, 39, 41, 42, 44,
45, 61, 64, 66, 67, 71, 84, 88, 90, 119, 122,
123, 130, 135, 139, 143, 245, 315, 376, 425 sq.,
428, 431, 436, 453-455, 476; a Babel of
religions, 62 sq. ; number of Jews in,
83; morals of, 95, 99, 105 sq. ; popula-
tion of, 108 ; its buildings, 110 sq. ; a
mission centre, 220; Bishop of, 262, 355,
360, 368, 374; Genius of, 475.
Romula, 407.
Romulus, 49.
Rosmerta, 39.
Rousseau, 71.
Rufinus, 67.
Rumina, 31.
Rusticus. See Junius.
Rutilianus. See Publius.
Sabazius, 322.
Sabbath, the Jewish, Roman observance
of, 63; ridicule of, 8 3.
Sabina, the martyr, 213. See PoppoRa.
Salona, 399, 413.
Samnites, the, 125.
Samosata, 324.
Sardinia, 355, 368.
Sardis, 13.
Sarmatians, 409.
Saturn, 79, 359.
Saturninus, 369.
Saturus, 359.
Saviour, the, 148.
Scasvola, Mucins, 129.
Scepticism in the Roman Empire, 51 sq.,
71,
Scipios, the, 71.
Scriptures, reading of, in Christian homes,
183,
Scythia, 220.
Sebaste, 439.
Senate, the Roman, 94, 96, 356, 363, 365,
395,
Seneca, 50, 61, 70, 74, 94, 100, 101, 103, 109,
115, 117, 129, 141, 144, 148, 194, 331; on
the aim of philosophy, 72 ; on suicide,
73; on human depravity, 77,78; on the
Jews, 87; ethical essays of, 93; on
tranquillity, 93, 118; on heathen mo-
rality, 95.
Septimius Severus, 110, 276, 278, 310, 313,
333 sq., 356,
Serapis, 38, 64, 65, 314,
Serenus Annaeus, 93, 94, 118.
Severus. See Septimius, Alexander.
Sicily, 83.
Sextus Empiricus, 51.
Simeon, 262.
Simonides, 72.
Sirona, 39.
SixtusII.,201,374,
Slavery, ancient, 131 sq., 435; effects of,
138 sq. ; held to be neccssra-y, 141;
Christianity and, 184 sq. ; its ameliora-
tion , 275 .s^'.
Smyrna, 17.
Socrates, 69, 98, 144, 324 sq.
Solon, 106.
Sophocles, 72, 120, 324.
Sositheus, 132,
Spain, 15, 18, 19, 45, 50, 59, 83, 105, 124, 376.
Sparta, 45, 59,
Spectacles, public. See Game's.
Speratus, 357.
State, the, dependence on religion, 146.
See Church.
Stoicism, its mediating theology, 51; ita
exclusiveness, 148.
Stoics, the, 70, 140, 144, 283 sq., 326.
Strabo, 52; on the necessity of supersti-
tion, 50; on the Jewish dispersion, 83.
Strauss, 303 sq.
Suetius Certus, 125.
Suetonius, 79, 241, 242, 252.
Sulla, 106.
Sunday, 162, 435. See Lord's Day.
Switzerland, 25.
Syene, 38,
Symbolum, 389.
Synagogues, the, 85, 219.
Syria, 18, 32, 45, 66, 83, 113, 207, 265^ 470.
Tacitus, 18, 26, 76, 79, 104, 137, 220, 223,
245 sq., 251 sq. ; his faith in the gods, 49;
on the Jews, 86; on sabbatical year, ib.
508
INDEX.
Tagis, 401 tq,
Talmud, 264.
Tangiers, 405.
Tapobrane, 36.
Tartarus, 74.
Tarvus, 39.
Tatian, 157, 268, 293.
Taurobolium, 322, 325.
Taurus in Cilicia, 83.
Telesphorus, 262.
Temple, the Jewish, 104, 252.
Terence, 144.
Terminalia, 408.
Terracina, 274.
Tertullian, 52, 100, 123, 157, 259-261, 264,
269 sq., 211, 292, 334, 338, 353, 391 sq. ;
on the Agapce, 163; on the conduct of
the Christians, 167,168; eulogy of Chris-
tian marriage, 175 sq.; on luxury in
dress, 178 sq. ; on the public shows, 189,
190; on liberty in giving, 199; on the
lav/-abiding spirit of Christians, 207.
Thascius Cypvianus. See Cuprian.
Thebaid, 369.
Themistocles, 97.
Theophilus, 207, 266.
Thessalonica, 89, 264.
Thirty Tyrants, the, 395.
Thomas, the apostle, 220.
Thrace, 466.
Thracians, the, 125.
Thucydides, 469.
Thule, 25.
Tiber, the, 83, 134, 314, 431.
Tiberius, r, i, 83, 88.
Tigellinus, 103.
Tigris, 474, 477.
Titus, 80, 121, 123, 195.
Tortures, 317, 379, 410 sq., 415.
Toulouse, 369.
Tradition. See Church.
Trajan, 58, 121, 127, 236, 237, 255, 261 6?.,
264, 272-274, 287, 292, 356, 365, 393; hia
rescript to Pliny, 240, 257 ag.
Ulpian, 276.
Utica, 375.
Ulysses, 73.
Valeria, 402 ; the gens, 89.
Varro, 50, 132.
Veleia, 273.
Versailles, court of, 143.
Vespasian, 55.
Vesta, 65, 78, 315.
Vestals, the, 54, 62, 125.
Vienne, 294 sq., 459.
Virgil, 54, 58, 114; the Fourth Eclogue, 80.
Victoria, 78, 368.
Victory, status of, 446.
Vitellius, 112, 113.
Women, low estimate of, in antiquity,
97 sq.fin sq, ; simplicity of Christian,
178 sq. ; benevolence enjoined on, 198;
improved position of, 271 sq.
Worship, family, 183. See Church.
Zeus, 60, 72.
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