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                        ORIGINS OF CHRISTIANITY.

                                VOL. II.

                             THE APOSTLES.




                               NEW WORKS,

                            BY ERNEST RENAN.

                 Uniform with this volume, price $1.75.


                         I.--THE LIFE OF JESUS.

                           II.--THE APOSTLES.

                    III.--SAINT PAUL. (_In press._)

       The works of Ernest Renan are of great power and learning,
          earnestly and honestly written, beautiful in style,
                admirable in treatment, and filled with
                       reverence, tenderness, and
                            warmth of heart.

  *** _Single copies sent by mail, free, on receipt of price, by_
                          CARLETON, PUBLISHER,
                               New York.




                                  THE
                               APOSTLES.

                                   BY

                             ERNEST RENAN,

                         MEMBRE DE L'INSTITUT.

               AUTHOR OF "THE LIFE OF JESUS," ETC., ETC.


                  TRANSLATED FROM THE ORIGINAL FRENCH.

                             [Illustration]

                               NEW YORK:
                 _Carleton, Publisher, 413 Broadway._
                    _PARIS: MICHEL LEVY FRERES._
                              M DCCC LXVI.




      Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by
                           GEO. W. CARLETON,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the
                     Southern District of New York.


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                           NEW YORK.




                           TABLE OF CONTENTS.


                                                               PAGE

  _INTRODUCTION.--Critical Examination of Original
          Documents_                                              7

  _CHAPTER I.--Formation of Beliefs relative to the
          Resurrection of Jesus.--The Apparitions at
          Jerusalem_                                             54

  _CHAPTER II.--Departure of the Disciples from
          Jerusalem.--Second Galilean life of Jesus_             71

  _CHAPTER III.--Return of the Apostles to Jerusalem.--End
          of the period of Apparitions_                          83

  _CHAPTER IV.--Descent of the Holy Spirit; Ecstatical and
          Prophetic Phenomena_                                   91

  _CHAPTER V.--First Church at Jerusalem; its Character
          Cenobitical_                                          104

  _CHAPTER VI.--The Conversion of the Hellenistic Jews and
          Proselytes_                                           122

  _CHAPTER VII.--The Church considered as an Association
          of poor People.--Institution of the
          Diaconate.--Deaconesses and Widows_                   130

  _CHAPTER VIII.--First Persecution.--Death of
          Stephen.--Destruction of the first Church of
          Jerusalem_                                            144

  _CHAPTER IX.--First Missions.--Philip the Deacon_             154

  _CHAPTER X.--Conversion of St. Paul_                          162

  _CHAPTER XI.--Peace and Interior Developments of the
          Church of Judea_                                      179

  _CHAPTER XII.--Establishment of the Church of Antioch_        196

  _CHAPTER XIII.--The idea of an Apostolate to the
          Gentiles.--Saint Barnabas_                            206

  _CHAPTER XIV.--Persecution of Herod Agrippa I._               214

  _CHAPTER XV.--Movements Parallel to, and Imitative of
          Christianity.--Simon of Gitto_                        226

  _CHAPTER XVI.--General progress of the Christian
          Missions_                                             236

  _CHAPTER XVII.--State of the World in the First Century_      252

  _CHAPTER XVIII.--Religious Legislation of the period_         278

  _CHAPTER XIX.--The Future of Missions_                        290

  _NOTES_                                                       305




                             THE APOSTLES.




                             INTRODUCTION.

              CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF ORIGINAL DOCUMENTS.


The first book of our _History of the Origins of Christianity_ brought
us down to the death and burial of Jesus; and we must now resume the
subject at the point where we left it--that is to say, on Saturday, the
fourth of April, in the year 33. The work will be for some time yet a
sort of continuation of the life of Jesus. Next to the glad months,
during which the great Founder laid the bases of a new order of things
for humanity, these few succeeding years were the most decisive in
the history of the world. It is still Jesus, who, by the holy fire
kindled in the hearts of a few friends from the spark He himself has
placed there, creates institutions of the highest originality, stirs
and transforms souls, and impresses on everything His divine seal. It
shall be ours to show how, under this influence, always active and
victorious over death, the doctrines of faith in the resurrection, in
the influence of the Holy Spirit, in the gift of tongues, and in the
power of the Church, became firmly established. We shall describe the
organization of the Church of Jerusalem, its first trials, and its
first triumphs, and the earliest missions to which it gave birth. We
shall follow Christianity in its rapid progress through Syria as far as
Antioch, where it established a second capital in some respects more
important than Jerusalem, and destined, even, to supplant the latter.
In this new centre, where converted heathen were in the majority, we
shall see Christianity separate itself definitively from Judaism, and
receive a name of its own; and we shall note, above all, the birth of
the grand idea of distant missions destined to carry the name of Jesus
throughout the Gentile world. We shall pause at the solemn moment
when Paul, Barnabas, and Mark depart to carry this great design into
execution; and then, interrupting for a while our narrative, we shall
cast a glance at the world which these brave missionaries sought to
convert. We shall endeavor to give an account of the intellectual,
political, moral, religious, and social condition of the Roman Empire
at about the year 45, the probable date of the departure of St. Paul on
his first mission.

Such is the scope of this second book which we have called _The
Apostles_, because it is devoted to that period of common action,
during which the little family created by Jesus acted in concert
and was grouped morally around a single point--Jerusalem. Our next
and third book, will lead us out of this company, and will have for
almost its only character the man who, more than any other, represents
conquering and spreading Christianity--St. Paul. Although from a
certain epoch he may be called an apostle, Paul, nevertheless, was not
so by the same title as the Twelve;[I.1] he was, in fact, a laborer of
the second hour, and almost an intruder. Historical documents, as they
have reached us, are apt to cause some misapprehension on this point.
As we know infinitely more of the affairs of Paul than of those of
the Twelve, as we possess his authentic writings and original memoirs
relating with minute precision certain epochs of his life, we are apt
to award him an importance of the first order, almost superior even to
that of Jesus. This is an error. Paul was a very great man, and played
a considerable part in the foundation of Christianity; but he should
neither be compared to Jesus, nor even to his immediate disciples. Paul
never saw Jesus, nor did he ever taste the ambrosia of the Galilean's
preaching; and the most mediocre man who had partaken of that heavenly
manna, was through that very privilege, superior to him who had, as
it were, only an after-taste. Nothing is more false than an opinion
which has become fashionable in these days, and which would almost
imply that Paul was the true founder of Christianity. Jesus alone
is its true founder; and the next places to Him should be reserved
for His grand yet obscure companions--for affectionate and faithful
friends who believed in Him in the face of death. Paul was to the first
century a kind of isolated phenomenon. Instead of an organized school,
he left vigorous adversaries, who, after his death, wished to banish
him from the Church, to place him on the same footing with Simon the
Magician,[I.2] and would even have denied him the credit of that which
we consider his special work--the conversion of the Gentiles.[I.3] The
church of Corinth, which he alone had founded,[I.4] professed to owe
its origin to him and to St. Peter.[I.5] In the second century Papias
and St. Justin do not mention his name; and it was not till later,
when oral tradition was lost and Scripture took its place, that Paul
assumed a leading position in Christian theology. Paul, indeed, had a
theology. Peter and Mary Magdalene had none. Paul has left elaborate
works, and none of the writings of the other apostles can dispute the
palm with his in either importance or authenticity.

At the first glance, the documents relating to the period embraced in
this volume would seem scanty and quite insufficient. Direct testimony
is confined to the earlier chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, the
historical value of which is open to grave objections. The light thrown
upon this obscure interval by the last chapters of the Gospels, and
above all by the Epistles of St. Paul, however, somewhat dissipates the
shadows. An ancient writer serves to make us acquainted not only with
the exact epoch when he wrote, but with the epoch which preceded it.
Every written work suggests, in fact, retrospective inductions upon
the state of society whence it proceeded. Though written for the most
part between the years 53 and 62, the Epistles of St. Paul are replete
with information about the first years of Christianity. While speaking
here of great events without precise dates, the essential point is
to show the conditions in which they originated; and while on this
subject, I should state, once for all, that the running dates given at
the head of each page (of the French edition) are only approximative.
The chronology of those early years has but very few fixed points.
Nevertheless, thanks to the care which the compiler of the Acts has
taken not to interrupt the series of facts; thanks to the Epistle
to the Galatians, where there are several numerical indications of
marked value; and thanks to Josephus, who furnishes us with the dates
of events in profane history allied to undoubted facts concerning the
apostles--it is possible to arrange a probable chronology where the
chances of error are confined within tolerably restricted limits.

I will repeat here at the beginning of this book what I said at the
beginning of my Life of Jesus. Hypothesis is indispensable in histories
of this character, where only the general effect is certain, and where
almost all the details are more or less dubious, in consequence of the
legendary nature of the authorities. There is no hypothesis at all to
be made in regard to epochs of which we know nothing. To attempt to
reproduce a group of antique statuary which has certainly existed, but
of which we have not even a fragment, and about which we possess no
written information, is a purely arbitrary work; but what can be more
legitimate than to try to re-arrange the frieze of the Parthenon from
the portions which remain, and with the aid of ancient descriptions
of drawings made in the seventeenth century, and all other possible
means of information--in a word, to become inspired with the style
of these inimitable sculptures, and to endeavor to grasp their soul
and spirit? It need not be said after the effort that the work of the
ancient sculptor has been reproduced; but that everything possible has
been done to approach it. Such a procedure is much more legitimate in
history, because the doubtful forms of language permit that which the
marble does not. Nothing prevents us from proposing to the reader a
choice between different suppositions. The conscience of the writer
need not trouble him as long as he presents as certain, that which is
certain; as probable, that which is probable; as possible, that which
is possible. When history and legend glide together, it is only the
general effect which need be followed out. Our third book, for which
we shall have documents absolutely historical, and in which it will
be our function to depict characters clearly defined, and to relate
facts distinctly set forth, will thus present a firmer narrative. It
will be seen, however, that the physiognomy of that period is, upon
the whole, not known with certainty. Accomplished facts speak louder
than biographical details. We know very little about the incomparable
artists to whom we are indebted for the masterpieces of Greek art; yet
these masterpieces really tell us more of the individuality of their
authors, and of the public that appreciated them, than could the most
circumstantial narrations or the most authentic text.

The documents to which we must look for information concerning what
was done immediately after the death of Jesus, are the last chapters
of the Gospels, containing the account of the apparitions of the risen
Christ.[I.6] I do not attend to repeat here my estimate of the value
of these documents given in the "Life of Jesus." We have, happily, in
this question, features wanting too often in that work: I would refer
to a prominent passage in St. Paul (I. Corinthians XV. 5-8),
which establishes--first, the reality of the apparitions or appearances
of Christ; second, the duration of these apparitions, differing from
the accounts in the synoptic Gospels; third, the variety of localities
where these apparitions were manifest, contrary to Mark and to Luke.
The study of the fundamental text, in addition to many other reasons,
confirms us in the views we have already expressed upon the reciprocal
relation of the synoptical Gospels and the fourth Gospel. As regards
the resurrection and subsequent appearances of Christ, the fourth
Gospel maintains the same superiority which it shows throughout its
entire history of Jesus. It is to this Gospel that we must look for
a connected and logical narrative, suggestive of that which remains
hidden behind it. I would touch upon the most difficult of questions
relating to the origins of Christianity, in asking, "What is the
historical value of the fourth Gospel?" My views on this point in
my "Life of Jesus" have elicited the strongest objections brought
against the work by intelligent critics. Almost all the scholars who
apply the rational method to the history of theology reject the fourth
Gospel as in all respects apocryphal; but though I have reflected much
of late on this problem, I cannot modify to any material degree my
previous opinion, though, out of respect to the general sentiment on
this point, I deem it my duty to set forth in detail the reasons for
my persistence; and I will devote to these reasons an Appendix to a
revised and corrected edition of the "Life of Jesus" which is shortly
to appear.

For the history we are about to dwell upon, the Acts of the Apostles
form the most important documentary reference; and an explanation
of the character of this work, of its historical value, and of
interpretations I put upon it, is here desirable.

There can be no doubt that the Acts of the Apostles were written by the
author of the third Gospel, and form a continuation of that work. It
is not necessary to stop and prove this proposition, which has never
been seriously contested.[I.7] The preface which is at the beginning
of each work, the dedication of both to Theophilus, and the perfect
resemblance of style and ideas, are abundant demonstration of the fact.

A second proposition, not as certain, but which may nevertheless be
regarded very probable, is that the author of the Acts was a disciple
of Paul, who accompanied him in most of his travels. At first glance
this proposition appears indubitable. In several places, after the 10th
verse of Chapter XVI., the author of the Acts uses in the
narrative the pronoun "we," thus indicating that the writer thenceforth
formed one of the apostolic band which surrounded Paul. This would
seem to demonstrate the matter; and the only issue which appears to
lessen the force of the argument is the theory that the passages where
the pronoun "we" is found, had been copied by the last compiler of the
_Acts_ in a previous manuscript, in the original memoirs of a disciple
of Paul, and that this compiler or editor had inadvertently forgotten
to substitute for "we" the name of the narrator. This explanation is,
however, hardly admissible. Such an error might naturally exist in
a more careless compilation; but the third Gospel and the Acts form
a work well prepared, composed with reflection, and even with art;
written by the same hand, and on a connected plan.[I.8] The two books,
taken together, are perfectly the same in style, present the same
favorite phrases, and exhibit the same manner of quoting Scripture. So
gross a fault in the editing would be inexplicable; and we are forced
to the conclusion that the person who wrote the close of the work,
wrote the beginning of it, and that the narrator of the whole is the
same who used the word "we" in the passages alluded to.

This will appear still more probable on remembering under what
circumstances the narrator thus refers to his association with Paul.
The use of the word "we" begins when Paul for the first time enters
Macedonia (XVI. 10), and closes when he leaves Philippi. It
occurs again when Paul, visiting Macedonia for the last time, goes once
more to Philippi (XX. 5, 6); and thenceforward to the close,
the narrator remains with Paul. On further remarking that the chapters
where the narrator accompanies the apostle are particular and precise
in their character, there will be little reason to doubt that the
former was a Macedonian, or more probably, perhaps, a Philippian,[I.9]
who came to Paul at Troas during the second mission, remained at
Philippi after the departure of the apostle, and on his last visit
to that city (the third mission) joined him, to leave him no more
during his wanderings. Is it probable that a compiler, writing at a
distance, would allow himself to be influenced to such a degree by the
reminiscences of another? These reminiscences would not harmonize with
the general style. The narrator who used the "we" would have his own
style and method,[I.10] and would be more like Paul than the general
editor of the work; but the fact is, that the whole work is perfectly
homogeneous.

It seems surprising that any one should be found to contradict a
proposition apparently so evident. But the critics of the New Testament
bring forward plenty of commentaries which are found on examination
to be full of uncertainty. As regards style, ideas, and doctrines,
the Acts are by no means what one would expect of a disciple of Paul.
In no respect do they resemble the Epistles, nor can there be found
therein a trace of those bold doctrines which showed the originality
of the Apostle to the Gentiles. The temperament of St. Paul is that
of a rigid Protestant; the author of the Acts produces the effect of
a good and docile Catholic, with a tendency to optimism; calling each
priest "a holy priest," each bishop "a great bishop," and ready to
adopt every fiction rather than to acknowledge that these holy priests
and these great bishops quarrelled, and sometimes most bitterly, among
themselves. Though always professing the greatest admiration for Paul,
the author of the Acts avoids giving him the title of apostle,[I.11]
and is disposed to award to Peter the credit of the initiative in the
conversion of the Gentiles. One would deem him a disciple of Peter
rather than of Paul. We shall soon show that in two or three instances
his principles of conciliation led him to grave errors in his biography
of Paul. He was inexact,[I.12] and above all, guilty of omissions truly
strange in one who was a disciple of that apostle.[I.13] He does not
at all allude to the Epistles; he omits important facts.[I.14] Even
in the portions relating to the period when he was supposed to be a
constant companion of Paul's, he is dry, ill-informed, and far from
entertaining;[I.15] and on the whole, the vagueness of certain portions
of the narrative would imply that the writer had no direct or even
indirect relation with the apostles, but wrote about the year 100 or
120.

Is it necessary to pause here to discuss these objections? I think
not; and I persist in believing that the last writer or editor of
the Acts is really that disciple of Paul who used the "we" in the
concluding chapters. All the discrepancies, however inseparable they
may appear, should be at least held in suspense, if not wholly done
away with, by the argument resulting from the use of this word "we."
It may be added, that in attributing the Acts to a companion of Paul,
two peculiarities are explained--the disproportion of the parts of the
work, three-fifths of which are devoted to Paul; and the disproportion
which may be observed in the biography of Paul, whose first mission is
very briefly spoken of, while certain parts of the second and third
missions, especially the concluding travels, are related with minute
details. A man wholly unfamiliar with the apostolic history would not
have practised these inequalities. The general design of the work
would have been better conceived. It is this very disproportion that
distinguishes history written from documents, from that wholly or in
part original. The historian of the closet takes for recital events
themselves, but the writer of memoirs avails himself of recollections
or personal relations. An ecclesiastical historian, a sort of Eusebius,
writing about the year 120, would have left us a book quite differently
arranged, after the thirteenth chapter. The eccentric manner in which
the _Acts_ at that period leave the orbit in which they had until then
revolved, cannot, in my opinion, be explained in any other way than by
the particular situation of the author, and his relations with Paul.
This view will be naturally confirmed if we find among the co-workers
known to Paul, the name of the author to whom tradition attributes the
book of Acts.

And this is really what has taken place. Both manuscript and tradition
give for the author of the third Gospel, a certain Lucanus[I.16]
or Lucas. From what has been said, it is evident that if Lucas is
really the author of the third Gospel, he is also the author of the
Acts. Now, that very name of Lucas we also find mentioned as that of
a companion of Paul, in the Epistle to the Colossians, IV.
14; in the Epistle to Philemon, 24; and in the Second Epistle to
Timothy, IV. 11. This last Epistle is of more than doubtful
authenticity. The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, on
the other hand, although very probably authentic, are not the most
indubitable of the Epistles of St. Paul; but nevertheless, in any
event, they date from the first century, and that is sufficient to
positively establish the fact that among the disciples of Paul there
existed a Lucas. The fabricator of the Epistles to Timothy is certainly
not the same one who fabricated those to the Colossians and Philemon
(conceding, contrary to our opinion, that these last are apocryphal).
To admit that writers of fiction had attributed to Paul an imaginary
companion, would hardly appear probable; but certainly the different
false writers would hardly have fallen on the same name for this
imaginary personage. Two observations will give a special force to
this reasoning. The first is, that the name of Lucas or Lucanus is an
unusual one among the early Christians; and the second, that the Lucas
of the Epistles is not known elsewhere. The placing of a celebrated
name at the head of a work, as was done with the Second Epistle
of Peter, and very probably with the Epistles of Paul to Titus and
Timothy, was in no manner repugnant to the custom of the times; but no
one would have thought of using in this way a name otherwise unknown.
If it were the intention of the writer to invest his book with the
authority of Paul, why did he not take the name of Paul himself, or
at least the names of Timothy and Titus, well known disciples of the
apostle of the Gentiles? Luke had no place either in tradition, legend,
or history. The three passages in the Epistles previously alluded to
were not enough to give him the reputation of an admitted authority.
The Epistles to Timothy were probably written after the Acts; and the
mention of Luke in the Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon are
really equal to only one allusion, these two works being by one hand.
We believe, then, that the author of the third Gospel was really Luke,
the disciple of Paul.

This very name of Luke or Lucanus, and the medical profession practised
by the so-called disciple of Paul,[I.17] fully accord with the
indications which the two books furnish in regard to their author. We
have already stated that the author of the third Gospel and the Acts
was probably from Philippi,[I.18] a Roman colony, where the Latin
tongue was in use.[I.19] Besides this, the author of the third Gospel
and the Acts was but indifferently acquainted with Judaism[I.20] and
the affairs of Palestine.[I.21] He knew but little of Hebrew;[I.22]
he was familiar with the ideas of the heathen world,[I.23] and he
wrote Greek in a tolerably correct manner. The work was composed
far from Judea, for a people unfamiliar with geography, and who had
respect[I.24] neither for a marked Rabbinical science nor for Hebrew
names.[I.25] The dominant idea of the author is, that if the people
had been free to follow their inclination, they would have embraced
the faith of Jesus, and that the Jewish aristocracy prevented them
from so doing.[I.26] He always imparts to the word Jew a malevolent
signification, as if it were synonymous with an enemy of the
Christians;[I.27] and on the other hand he is decidedly favorable
towards the heretic Samaritan.[I.28]

To what epoch can we refer the composition of this important work? Luke
appears for the first time in the company of Paul, after the first
journey of the apostle to Macedonia, about the year 52. Allowing that
he was then twenty-five years old, it would have been nothing more
than natural had he lived until the year 100. The narrative of the
Acts closes at the year 63,[I.29] but the compiling of the work was
evidently done after that of the third Gospel; and the date of the
editing of this third Gospel being evidently referable to the years
immediately following the fall of Jerusalem (year 70),[I.30] it is not
possible the book of Acts was written earlier than the year 71 or 72.

If it were quite certain that the Acts were written immediately after
the Gospel, we might stop there. But some doubt exists. Several
facts lead us to the belief that quite an interval elapsed between
the compositions of the two works; and there is, indeed, a singular
contradiction between the last chapter of the Gospel and the first
chapter of the Acts. In the former, the Ascension seems to be recorded
as taking place on the same day as the Resurrection;[I.31] in the
latter,[I.32] the Ascension only occurred after a lapse of forty
days. It is clear that this second version presents us with a more
advanced form of the legend, adopted when it was found necessary to
make room for the different apparitions of Christ, and to give to the
post-resurrection life of Jesus a complete and logical form. It may
be presumed, therefore, that this new method of arranging the history
only occurred to the author's mind during the interval between the
composition of the two works. In any event, it is somewhat remarkable
that the author should feel himself obliged, a few lines further on,
to develop his narrative by the recital of additional statements. If
his first book was yet in his hands, would he have made additions
which, viewed separately, are so awkwardly devised? Yet this even
is not decisive, and an important circumstance gives occasion for
the belief that Luke conceived the plan of both works at the same
time. This circumstance is found in the preface to the Gospel, which
appears common to the two works.[I.33] The contradiction to which we
have alluded can probably be explained by the little care taken to
account for every moment of time. Indeed, all the recitals of the
post-resurrection life of Jesus are thoroughly contradictory in regard
to the duration of that existence. So little effort was made to be
truly historical, that the same narrator did not shrink from proposing
successively two irreconcilable systems. The three descriptions of
the Conversion of St. Paul in the _Acts_[I.34] also show little
differences, which only prove that the author was not at all anxious
about precision in details.

It would appear, then, that we are very near the truth in supposing
that the Acts were written about the year 80. The tone of the book
accords with the times of the first Flavian emperors. The author
seemed to avoid everything that could annoy the Romans. He loves to
show how the Roman functionaries were favorable to the new sect; how
they even embraced its doctrines;[I.35] how, at least, they defended
its adherents from the Jews, and how equitable and superior to the
partisan passions of the local authorities was the imperial justice
of Rome.[I.36] He lays special stress on the advantages inuring to
Paul as a Roman citizen.[I.37] He abruptly cuts short his narrative
at the moment when Paul arrives at Rome, probably to be relieved from
recording the cruelties practised by Nero towards the Christians.[I.38]
Striking, indeed, is the contrast between this narrative and the
Apocalypse, written in the year 68, replete with memories of the
infamies of Nero, and breathing throughout a terrible hatred for Rome.
In the former case we recognise a quiet, amiable man, living in a
time of peaceful calm. From about the year 70 until the close of the
first century, the Christians had little to complain of. Members of
the Flavian family had adopted Christianity. It is even possible that
Luke knew Flavius Clemens, perhaps was one of his household, and may
have written the work for this powerful personage. There are several
indications which lead us to believe that the work was written in
Rome, and it might be said that the author was influenced by the Roman
Church, which, from the earliest centuries, possessed the political
and hierarchical character that has ever since distinguished it. Luke
could well enter into this feeling, for his views upon ecclesiastical
authority were far advanced, and even contained the germ of the
Episcopate. He wrote history in the apologetic tone characteristic
of the officials of the Court of Rome. He acted as an ultramontane
historian of Clement XIV. might have done, praising at the same time
the Pope and the Jesuits, and trying to persuade us that both parties
in their debate observed the rules of charity. Two hundred years hence
it will be maintained that Cardinal Antonelli and M. de Merode loved
each other like two brothers. The author of the Acts was the first of
these complacent narrators, piously convinced that everything in the
Church must happen in a thoroughly evangelical manner. He was, too,
the most artless of them all. Too loyal to condemn Paul, too orthodox
to place himself outside the pale of prevalent opinion, he passed over
real differences of doctrine, aiming to show only the common end which
all these great founders were pursuing, though by methods so opposite,
and in face of such energetic rivalries.

It will readily be understood that a man who possesses such a
disposition is, of all others, the least capable of representing
things as they really are. Historic fidelity is to him a matter of
indifference; he is only anxious to edify the reader. Luke scarcely
concealed this tendency; he writes "that Theophilus should understand
the truth of that which the catechists had taught him."[I.39] He thus
had already a settled ecclesiastical system which he taught officially,
and the limit of which, as well as that of evangelical history[I.40]
itself, was probably fixed. The dominant characteristics of the Acts,
like that of the third Gospel,[I.41] are a tender piety, a lively
sympathy for the Gentiles,[I.42] a conciliatory spirit, a marked
tendency towards the supernatural, a love for the humble and lowly,
a large democratic sentiment, or rather a persuasion that the people
were naturally Christian, and that the upper class prevented them from
following out their good instincts,[I.43] an exalted idea of the power
of the Church and of its leaders, and a remarkable leaning towards
social communism.[I.44] The methods of composition are the same in the
two works; and indeed in regard to the history of the apostles, are
about as we would be in relation to evangelical history, if our only
idea of the latter were derived from the Gospel according to St. Luke.

The disadvantages of such a situation are apparent. The life of Jesus,
told only by the writer of the third Gospel, would be extremely
defective and incomplete. We know so, because in this case, comparison
is possible. Besides Luke, we possess (without speaking of the fourth
Gospel) Matthew and Mark, who, relatively to Luke, are at least
partially original. We can place our finger on the places where Luke
dislocates or mixes up anecdotes, and can perceive the manner in which
he colors facts according to his personal views, and adds pious legends
to the most authentic traditions. Could we make a similar comparison as
regards the Acts, would we not perceive analogous faults? The earliest
chapters of the Acts appear to us even inferior to the third Gospel;
for these chapters were probably composed from the fewer and less
universally documentary references.

A fundamental distinction is here necessary. In a historic point of
view the book of Acts is divided into two parts--one comprising the
first twelve chapters, and recounting the principal events in the
history of the primitive Church; and the other containing the seven
remaining chapters, all devoted to the missions of St. Paul.

This second part, in itself, includes two kinds of narrative: one
portion related by the narrator from his ocular testimony, and the
other consisting only of what he has heard.

It is clear that even in this last case his authority is very
important. The conversation of St. Paul himself is often drawn upon
for information. Particularly towards its close, the narrative is
characterized by remarkable precision; and the last pages of the Acts
form indeed the only completely historical record that we have of the
origins of Christianity.

The first chapters, on the contrary, are the most open to attack of all
in the New Testament. In regard to these early years, particularly, the
author betrays discrepancies still more remarkable than those existing
in his Gospel.

His theory of forty days; his account of the Ascension, closing by
a sort of final abduction and theatrical solemnity; the fantastic
life of Jesus; his manner of describing the descent of the Holy
Ghost, and of miraculous preaching; his method of understanding the
gift of tongues--all are different from St. Paul:[I.45] all betray
the influence of an epoch relatively inferior, and of a period when
legendary lore finds wide credence.

Supernatural effects and startling accessories are characteristic of
this author, who we should remember writes half a century after the
occurrences he describes; in a country far from the scene of action;
upon events which neither he nor his master, Paul, has witnessed; and
following traditions partly fabulous, or at least modified by time and
repetition. Luke not only belonged to a different generation from the
founders of Christianity, but he was also of a different race; he was
a Greek, with very little of the Jew in him, and almost a stranger
to Jerusalem and to the secrets of Jewish life; he had never mingled
with the primitive Christians, and indeed scarcely knew their later
representatives. The miracles he relates, give the impression of
inventions _à priori_ rather than of exaggerated facts; the miracles
of Peter and Paul form two series, which respond to each other,[I.46]
and in which the personages have a family resemblance. Peter differs in
nothing from Paul, nor Paul from Peter.

The words which he puts in the mouth of his heroes, although adapted to
varying circumstances, are all in the same style, and characteristic of
the author himself rather than those to whom he attributes them. His
text even contains impossibilities.[I.47] The _Acts_, in a word, form
a dogmatic history so arranged as to support the orthodox doctrines
of the time or inculcate the ideas which most fully accorded with the
pious views of the author. Nor could it be otherwise. The origin of
each religion was only known through the statements of its adherents.
It is only the sceptic who writes history _ad narrandum_.

These are not simply the suspicions and conjectures of a carping and
defiant criticism. They are well founded inductions; every time that
we have reviewed the _Acts_ we have found the book systematically
faulty. The control which we can demand of the synoptical texts, we
can demand also of St. Paul, and particularly of the Epistle to the
Galatians. It is clear, then, where the Acts and the Epistles do not
accord, preference should always be given to the latter, which are
older, possess absolute authenticity, thorough sincerity, and freedom
from legendary corruption. The most important doctrines for history
are those which possess in the least degree the historic form. The
authority of chronicles must give place to medals, maps, or authentic
letters. Viewed in this light, the epistles of undoubted authors and
well-authenticated dates form the basis of all the history of Christian
origins. Without them, doubts would weaken and destroy all faith
even in the life of Jesus. Now, in two very important instances, the
Epistles display in broad light the peculiar tendencies of the author
of the _Acts_, and his desire to efface every trace of the dissensions
which had existed between Paul and the apostles at Jerusalem.[I.48]

And firstly, the author of the _Acts_ makes out that Paul, after the
accident at Damascus (X. 19, and following verses; XXII. 17, and
following verses), came to Jerusalem at an epoch when his conversion
was hardly known; that he had been presented to the apostles; that
he had lived with them and the faithful brethren on the most cordial
terms; that he had disputed publicly with the Hellenistic Jews, and
that a conspiracy on their part and a celestial revelation led to his
departure from Jerusalem. Now Paul informs us that the matter was
quite different. To prove that he owes to Jesus Himself and not to the
Twelve his doctrine and mission, he says (Gal. I. 11, and following
verses) that after his conversion he avoided taking counsel with
any one,[I.49] or going to Jerusalem to consult with those who had
been apostles before himself; but that of his own accord he went to
preach and to carry out his personal mission in Hauran; that three
days later, it is true, he journeyed to Jerusalem, but only to make
the acquaintance of Cephas; that he remained fifteen days, but saw no
other apostle, excepting, perhaps, James, the brother of the Lord; so
that, really, his countenance was quite unknown to the churches of
Judea. The effort to soften the asperities of the severe apostle and
present him as a co-worker of the Twelve, laboring in concert with
them at Jerusalem, hence seems without evidence. It has been given to
appear that Jerusalem was his capital and point of departure; that
his doctrine was so identical with that of the apostles that he was
able, to a great degree, to take their place as preachers; that his
first apostolate was confined to the synagogues of Damascus; that he
had been a disciple and listener, which was not the fact;[I.50] that
the time between his conversion and his first journey to Jerusalem was
very short; that his sojourn in that city was quite protracted; that
his preaching was received with general satisfaction; that he lived on
intimate terms with all the apostles, though he assures us that he had
seen but two of them; and that the faithful of Jerusalem took care of
him, though Paul declares that they were unknown to him.

The same disposition to prove that Paul was a frequent visitor to
Jerusalem, which had induced our author to prolong the apostle's stay
in Jerusalem, seems also to have induced him to credit the apostle
with one journey too many. He says that Paul came to Jerusalem with
Barnabas, bearing the offerings of the faithful after the year 44 (Acts
XI. 30; XII. 25). Now, Paul expressly declares that between the journey
made three years after his conversion and that made in relation to
the subject of circumcision, he did not go to Jerusalem at all (Gal.
I. and II.); in other words, between Acts IX. 26, and XV. 2, Paul
makes no mention of any travel. One could wrongly deny the identity
of the journey described in the second chapter of Galatians with that
mentioned in the fifteenth chapter of Acts, and yet not be subject to
contradiction. "Three years after my conversion," says St. Paul, "I
went to Jerusalem to make the acquaintance of Cephas, and fourteen
years afterwards I went again to Jerusalem." There has been some doubt
whether this period of fourteen years dates from the conversion, or
from the journey three years subsequent to that event. We will assume
the first hypothesis as being most favorable to those who defend the
account as given in Acts. There would then, according to St. Paul,
have been at least eleven years between his first and second journey
to Jerusalem; now surely there are not eleven years between that which
is related in Acts IX. 26 and the following verses, and the account
which we find in Acts XI. 30, etc. By maintaining it against all show
of truth, one would fall into another impossibility. The truth is, that
which is related in Acts XI. 30 is contemporaneous with the death of
James, the son of Zebedee,[I.51] which having just preceded the death,
in the year 44, of Herod Agrippa I., furnishes us with the only fixed
date in the Acts of the Apostles.[I.52] The second journey took place
at least fourteen years after his conversion; and if he had really made
that journey in the year 44--the conversion must have occurred in the
year 30--a theory which is manifestly absurd. It is then impossible to
allow any credence to the statements in Acts XI. 30 and XII. 35.

All of these journeyings to and fro appear to be reported by our author
in a very inexact manner; and in comparing Acts XVII. 14-16, and XVIII.
5, with 1 Thessalonians III. 1-2, another discrepancy will be found. As
this last, however, has nothing to do with doctrinal matters, we shall
not discuss it here.

An important feature of the subject now before us, and one which throws
much light on this difficult question of the historical value of the
_Acts_, is a comparison of the passages relative to the discussion
concerning circumcision in the fifteenth chapter of Acts and the second
chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians. According to the _Acts_,
certain of the brethren of Judea coming to Antioch and maintaining the
necessity of the rite of circumcision for converted heathen, Paul,
Barnabas, and several others were appointed as a deputation to go
from Antioch to Jerusalem to consult the apostles and elders on this
question. They were warmly received by their brethren at the Holy City,
and a great convention was held. The sentiments of reciprocal charity
which prevailed, and the great satisfaction experienced by these
co-religionists at thus meeting again together, dispelled all feeling
of dissension. Peter gave utterance to the opinion which had been
anticipated from the mouth of Paul, viz. that the converted heathen
were not subject to the law of Moses. James modified this only by a
very light restriction.[I.53] Paul did not speak, and indeed had no
reason to do so, because his views were fully expressed by Peter; and
the theory of the Judean brethren found no supporters. According to the
advice of James, a solemn decree was made and communicated by deputies
expressly chosen to the various churches.

Let us now examine the account given by Paul in the Epistle to the
Galatians. It was his desire that this journey to Jerusalem should have
the effect of a spontaneous movement, or even be deemed the result of
a revelation. On his arrival at Jerusalem he communicated his gospel
to whom it concerned, and had private interviews with many important
personages. No one criticised his actions nor troubled him with
communications, but only begged him to remember the poor of Jerusalem.
Titus, who accompanied him, consented to be circumcised{I.54}, but only
through the representations of "two false intruding brethren." Paul
permitted this incidental concession, but he would not submit to them.
As to the more prominent men (and Paul never speaks of them excepting
with a shade of bitterness and irony), they learn nothing new from
him. He even disputed with Cephas "because he was wrong." At first,
indeed, Cephas mingled with every one without distinction. Emissaries
arrived from James; and Peter hid himself, avoiding the uncircumcised.
Paul publicly apostrophized Cephas, bitterly reproaching him for his
conduct, "seeing that he did not keep in the narrow path of gospel
truth."

Observe the difference. On the one side holy concord; on the other,
extreme susceptibility and half-restrained anger. On one side a
harmonious council; and on the other, nothing resembling it. On the
one side a formal decree emanating from a recognised authority; on
the other, antagonistic opinions reciprocally conceding nothing
excepting for form's sake. It is needless to say which version merits
our preference. The account given in the Acts is scarcely truthful,
because the dispute in which the Council was engaged is not alluded
to after the Council was reunited. The two orators here make use of
expressions contradictory to what they had elsewhere said. The decree
which the Council is reported to have made, is assuredly a fiction.
If this decree, emanating from the pen of James, had really been
promulgated, why should the good and timid Peter have been afraid of
the messengers sent by James? Why should he hide himself? He, as well
as the Christians of Antioch, was acting in entire conformity with this
decree, the terms of which had been dictated by James himself. The
discussion relating to circumcision took place about 51; yet several
years after, about the year 56, the quarrel which this decree should
have terminated, was more lively than ever. The Church of Galatia was
troubled by new emissaries sent by the Jewish party of Jerusalem.[I.55]
Paul answers to this new attack of his enemies by his terrible Epistle.
If the decree reported in the fifteenth chapter of the _Acts_ had
existed, Paul, by referring to it, would have had a much simpler method
of bringing the debate to a close. Now, everything that he says,
intimates the non-existence of this decree; and in 57, Paul writing to
the Corinthians, not only ignores it, but even violates its directions.
The decree commands abstinence from flesh offered to idols; but Paul,
on the contrary, thinks it no wrong to eat of this flesh as long as no
one is scandalized by the act, though he advises abstinence should it
give offence to any one.[I.56] In 58, at last, after the last journey
of Paul to Jerusalem, James was more obstinate than ever.[I.57] One of
the characteristic traits of the book of _Acts_, clearly proving that
the author is less anxious to present historic truth or even to satisfy
logical reasoning than to edify pious readers, is this fact, that the
question of the admission of the uncircumcised is always on the point
of being resolved without ever attaining that consummation. The baptism
of the eunuch of Candia, the baptism of the centurion Cornelius,
both miraculously ordered; the foundation of the Church at Antioch
(XI. 19; and following verses); the pretended Council at
Jerusalem--all leave the question yet in suspense. In truth, it always
remained in that state. The two fractions of budding Christianity never
came together; and that one which maintained the practices of Judaism
proved unfruitful, and soon vanished in obscurity. So far from finding
general acceptation, Paul after his death was calumniated, and even
anathematized, by no inconsiderable portion of Christianity.[I.58]

In our third book we shall dwell at length on the subject to which
these singular incidents refer. Our object at present is only to give a
few examples of the manner in which the author of the _Acts_ interprets
history, and to show how he reconciles it with his preconceived ideas.
Must we therefore agree with certain celebrated critics that the
first chapters of the _Acts_ are without authenticity, and that his
leading characters, such as the eunuch, the centurion Cornelius, and
even the deacon Stephen, and the pious Tabitha, are mere creations
of fiction? By no means. It is not probable that the author of the
_Acts_ invented his personages;[I.59] but he is a skilful lawyer who
writes to prove, and who, from facts of which he has heard, tries to
deduce arguments in favor of his cherished theories, which are the
legitimacy of the calling of the Gentiles and the divine institution
of the hierarchy. Though such a document should be used with great
care, its entire rejection would show as little critical acumen as its
blind acceptation. Several paragraphs even in the first part possess a
value universally recognised as representing authentic memoirs quoted
from the last compiler. The twelfth chapter, in particular, is without
alloy, and seems to emanate from St. Mark.

It would indeed be unsatisfactory if for this history we had as our
documents of reference only this legendary book. Happily there are
others which, though they relate directly to the period to which our
third book will be devoted, yet throw much light upon this epoch. Such
are the Epistles of St. Paul; the Epistle to the Galatians, above
all, is really a treasure: the basis of all the chronology of that
period, the key which unlocks all, the testimony which assures the
most sceptical of the reality of things which cannot be doubted. I
wish that the serious readers who may feel tempted to regard me as too
bold or too credulous, would re-peruse the first two chapters of this
singular Epistle; these chapters are certainly the two most important
pages in the history of budding Christianity. The Epistles of St. Paul
indeed possess in their absolute authenticity an unequalled advantage
in this history. Not the slightest doubt has been raised by serious
criticism against the authenticity of the Epistle to the Galatians, the
two Epistles to the Corinthians, or the Epistle to the Romans; while
the arguments on which are founded the attacks on the two Epistles to
the Thessalonians and that to the Philippians are without value. At
the beginning of our third book we shall discuss the more specious
though equally indecisive objections which have been raised against
the Epistle to the Colossians and the little note to Philemon; the
particular problem presented by the Epistle to the Ephesians; and at
last the proofs which have led us to reject the two Epistles to Timothy
and that to Titus. The Epistles which shall serve our need in the
present volume are all of indubitable authority, while the deductions
we shall draw from the others are quite independent of the question
whether they were or were not dictated by St. Paul. It is not necessary
to revert here to the rules of criticism which have been followed in
the composition of this work, and which has already been done in the
introduction to the Life of Jesus. The twelve first chapters of the
_Acts_ form a document analogous to the synoptical Gospels and to be
treated in the same manner. This species of document, half historical
and half legendary, can be accepted neither as legend nor as history;
while in detail nearly everything is false, we can nevertheless exhume
therefrom precious truths. A pure and literal translation of these
narratives, which are often contradicted by better authenticated texts,
is not history. Often in cases where we have but one text there is
fear that if others existed it would be contradicted. As regards the
life of Jesus, the narrative of Luke is always controlled and corrected
by the two other synoptical Gospels and by the fourth. Is it not
probable, I repeat, that if we had a work bearing the same relation
to the _Acts_ that the synoptical Gospels do to the fourth Gospel,
the book of _Acts_ would be defective in many points on which we now
receive it as testimony? Entirely different rules will guide us in our
third book, where we shall be in the full light of positive history,
and shall possess original and sometimes autographical information.
When St. Paul himself relates some episode of his life, regarding which
his interest demanded no special interpretation, of course we need only
insert his identical words in our work, as Tillemont does. But, when we
have to do with a narrator identified with a certain system, writing
in support of certain ideas, preparing his work in the vague blunt
style and with the highly wrought colors peculiar to legendary lore,
the duty of the critic is to free himself from the thraldom of the text
and to penetrate through it to the truths which it conceals, without,
however, being too confident that he has discovered that truth. To
debar criticism from similar interpretations would be as unreasonable
as to limit the astronomer to the visible state of the heavens. Does
not astronomy, on the contrary, involve an allowance for the parallax
caused by the position of the observer, and construe from apparent
deceptive appearances the real condition of the starry skies?

Why, then, should a literal interpretation of documents containing
irreconcilable discrepancies be urged? The first twelve chapters of
the Acts are a tissue of miracles. It is an absolute rule of criticism
to deny a place in history to narratives of miraculous circumstances;
nor is this owing to a metaphysical system, for it is simply the
dictation of observation. Such facts have never been really proved.
All the pretended miracles near enough to be examined are referable to
illusion or imposture. If a single miracle had ever been proved, we
could not reject in a mass all those of ancient history; for, admitting
that very many of these last were false, we might still believe that
some of them were true. But it is not so. Discussion and examination
are fatal to miracles. Are we not then authorized in believing that
those miracles which date many centuries back, and regarding which
there are no means of forming a contradictory debate, are also without
reality? In other words, miracles only exist when people believe in
them. The supernatural is but another word for faith. Catholicism, in
maintaining that it yet possesses miraculous power, subjects itself to
the influence of this law. The miracles of which it boasts never occur
where they would be most effective; why should not such a convincing
proof be brought more prominently forward? A miracle at Paris, for
instance, before experienced savants, would put an end to all doubts!
But, alas! such a thing never happens. A miracle never takes place
before an incredulous and sceptical public, the most in need of such
a convincing proof. Credulity on part of the witness is the essential
condition of a miracle. There is not a solitary exception to the rule
that miracles are never produced before those who are able or permitted
to discuss and criticise them. Cicero, with his usual good sense and
penetration, asks: "Since when has this secret force disappeared; has
it not been since men have become less credulous?"[I.60]

"But," it may be urged, "if it is impossible to prove that there ever
was any instance of supernatural power, it is equally impossible
to prove that there was not. The positive savant who denies the
supernatural, argues as gratuitously as the credulous one who admits
it!" Not at all. It is the duty of him who affirms a proposition
to prove it, while he to whom the affirmation is made has only to
listen to the proof and to decide whether it is satisfactory. If any
one had asked Buffon to give a place in his _Natural History_ to
sirens and centaurs, he would have answered: "Show me a specimen of
these beings and I will admit them; until then, I do not admit their
existence." "But can you prove that they do not exist?" the other may
say, and Buffon would reply: "It is your province to prove that they
do exist." In science the burden of proof rests on those who advance
alleged facts. Why, although innumerable historic writings claim their
existence, do people no longer believe in angels and demons? Simply
because the existence of an angel or a demon has never yet been proved.

In support of the reality of miraculous agency, appeal is made to
phenomena outside of the course of natural laws, such, for instance,
as the creation of man. This creation, it has been said, could only
have been compassed by the direct intervention of the Divinity, and
why was not this intervention manifested at other decisive crises of
the development of the universe? I shall not dwell upon the strange
philosophy and sordid appreciation of the Divinity manifested in such
a system of reasoning. History should have its method, independent of
all philosophy. Without at all entering upon the domain of theology,
it is easy to show how defective is this argument. It is equivalent
to maintaining that everything which does not happen in the ordinary
conditions of the world, everything that cannot be explained by the
present rules of science, is miraculous. But, according to this, the
sun is a miracle, because science has never explained the sun; the
conception of mankind is a miracle, because physiology is silent
on that point; conscience is a miracle, because it is an absolute
mystery; and every animal is a miracle, because the origin of life is
a problem of which we know next to nothing. The reply that every life,
every soul, is of an order superior to nature, is simply a play upon
words. So we understand it, and yet the word miracle remains to be
explained. How is that a miracle which happens every day and hour? The
miraculous is not simply the inexplicable, it is a formal derogation
from recognised laws in the name of a particular desire. What we deny
to the miracle is the exceptional state or the results of particular
intervention, as in the case of a clockmaker who may have made a
clock very handsome to look at, but requiring at intervals the hand
of its maker to supply a deficiency in its mechanism. We acknowledge
heartily that God may be permanently in everything, particularly in
everything that lives; and we only maintain there has never been
convincing proof of any particular intervention of supernatural
force. We deny the reality of supernatural agency until we are made
cognizant of a demonstrated fact of this nature. To search for this
demonstration anterior to the creation of man; to go outside of history
for historical miracles, dating back to epochs when all proof is
impossible--all this is to seek refuge behind a cloud, to prove one
doubtful proposition by another equally obscure, to bring against a
recognised law an alleged fact of which we know nothing. If miracles,
which only took place so long ago that no witness of them now exists,
are invoked, it is simply because none can be cited for which competent
witnesses can be claimed.

In far distant epochs, beyond doubt, there occurred phenomena which,
on the same scale at least, are not repeated in the world of to-day.
But there was at the time they happened a cause for these phenomena.
In geological formations may be met a great number of minerals and
precious stones which nature seems no longer to produce; and yet most
of them have been artificially recomposed by Messieurs Mitscherlich,
Ebelman, De Sénarmont, and Daubrée. If life cannot be artificially
produced, it is because the reproduction of the conditions in which
life commenced (if it ever did commence) will probably be always beyond
human grasp. How can the planet that disappeared thousands of years
ago be brought back? How form an experience, which has lasted for
centuries? The diversity of thousands of ages of slow evolution is what
one forgets in denominating as miracles the phenomena which occurred
in other times, but which occur no more. Far back in the vast range of
heavenly bodies, are now perhaps taking place movements which, nearer
us, have ceased since a period infinitely distant. The formation
of humanity, if we think of it as a sudden instantaneous thing, is
certainly of all things in the world the most shocking and absurd;
but it maintains its place in general analogies (without losing its
mystery) if it is viewed as the result of a long-continued progress,
lasting during incalculable ages. The laws of matured life are not
applicable to embryotic life. The embryo develops all its organs one
after another. It creates no more, because it is no longer at the
creative age; just as language is no longer invented, because there
is no more to invent. But why longer follow up adversaries who beg
the question? We ask for a proven miracle, and are told that it took
place anterior to history. Certainly, if any proof were wanting of the
necessity of supernatural beliefs to certain states of the soul, it
would be found in the fact that many minds gifted in all other points
with due penetration, have reposed their entire faith in an argument as
desperate as this.

There are some persons who yield up the idea of physical miracles,
but still maintain the existence of a sort of moral miracle, without
which, in their opinion, certain great events cannot be explained.
Assuredly the formation of Christianity is the grandest fact in the
religious history of the world; but for all that, it is by no means a
miracle. Buddhism and Babism have counted as many excited and resigned
martyrs as even Christianity. The miracles of the founding of Islamism
are of an entirely different character, and I confess have very little
effect on me. It may, however, be remarked that the Mussulman doctors
deduce from the remarkable establishment of their religion, from its
marvellously rapid diffusion, from its rapid conquests, and from the
force which gives it so absolute a governing power, precisely the same
arguments which Christian apologists bring forward in relation to the
establishment of Christianity, and which, they claim, show clearly
the hand of God. Let us allow that the foundation of Christianity
is something utterly peculiar. Another equally peculiar thing, is
Hellenism; understanding by that word the ideal of perfection realized
by grace in literature, art, and philosophy. Greek art surpasses all
other arts, as the Christian religion surpasses all other religions;
and the Acropolis at Athens a collection of masterpieces beside which
all other attempts are only like gropings in the dark, or, at the
best, imitations more or less successful, is perhaps that which, above
everything else, defies comparison. Hellenism, in other words, is as
much a prodigy of beauty as Christianity is a prodigy of sanctity.

A unique action or development is not necessarily miraculous. God
exists in various degrees in all that is beautiful, good, and true;
but he is never so exclusively in any one of His manifestations, that
the presence of His vitalizing breath in a religious or philosophical
movement should be deemed a privilege or an exception.

I am not without hope that the interval of two years and a half that
has elapsed since the publication of the Life of Jesus, has led many
readers to consider these problems with calmness. Without knowing or
wishing it, religious controversy is always a dishonesty. It is not
always its province to discuss with independence and to examine with
anxiety; but it must defend a determined doctrine, and prove that he
who dissents from it is either ignorant or dishonest. Calumnies,
misconstructions, falsifications of ideas or words, boasting arguments
on points not raised by the opponent, shouts of victory over errors
which he has not committed--none of these seem to be considered
unworthy weapons by those who believe they are called upon to maintain
the interests of an absolute truth. I would be ignorant indeed of
history, if I had not known all this. I am indifferent enough, however,
not to feel it very deeply; and I have enough respect for the faith, to
kindly appreciate whatever was touching or genuine in the sentiments
which actuated my antagonists. Often, after observing the artlessness,
the pious assurance, the frank anger, so freely expressed by so many
good people, I have said as John Huss did at the sight of an old woman
perspiring under the weight of a faggot she was feebly dragging to his
stake: "_O sancta simplicitas!_" I have only regretted at times the
waste of sentiment. According to the beautiful expression of Scripture:
"God is not in the fire." If all this annoyance proved instrumental in
aiding the cause of truth, there would be something of consolation in
it. But it is not always so; Truth is not for the angry and passionate
man. She reserves herself for those who, freed from partisan feeling,
from persistent affection, and enduring hate, seek her with entire
liberty, and with no mental reservation referring to human affairs.
These problems form only one of the innumerable questions with which
the world is crowded, and which the curious are fond of studying. No
one is offended by the announcement of a mere theoretical opinion.
Those who would guard their faith as a treasure can defend it very
easily by ignoring all works written in an opposing spirit. The timid
would do better by dispensing with reading.

There are persons of a very practical turn of mind, who, on hearing of
any new scientific work, ask what political party the author aims to
please, and who think that every poem should contain a moral lesson.
These people think that propagandism is the only object that a writer
has in view. The idea of an art or science aspiring only after the
true and beautiful, without regard either to policy or politics, is
something quite strange to them. Between such persons and ourselves
misapprehensions are inevitable. "There are people," said a Greek
philosopher, "who take with their left hand what is offered to them
with their right." A number of letters, dictated by a really honest
sentiment, which have been sent me, may be summed up in the question,
"What is the matter with you? What end are you aiming at?" Why, I
write for precisely the same reason that all historical writers do.
If I could have several lives, I would devote one to writing a life
of Alexander, another to a history of Athens, and a third to either a
history of the French Revolution or the monkish order of St. Francis.
In writing these works I would be actuated by a desire to find the
truth, and would endeavor to make the mighty events of the past known
with the greatest possible exactness, and related in a manner worthy of
them. Far from me be the thought of shocking the religious faith of any
person! Such works should be prepared with as much supreme indifference
as if they were written in another planet. Every concession to the
scruples of an inferior order, is a derogation from the dignity and
culture of art and truth. It can at once be seen that the absence of
proselytism is the leading feature of works composed in such a spirit.

The first principle of the critical school is the allowance in matters
of faith of all that is needed, and the adaptation of beliefs to
individual wants. Why should we be foolish enough to concern ourselves
about things over which no one has any control? If any person adopts
our principles it is because he has the mental tendency and the
education adapted to them; and all our efforts will not be able to
impart this tendency and this education to those who do not naturally
possess them. Philosophy differs from faith in this, that faith is
believed to operate by itself independently of the intelligence
acquired from dogmas. We, on the contrary, hold that truth only
possesses value when it comes of itself, and when the order of its
ideas is comprehended. We do not consider ourselves obliged to maintain
silence in regard to those opinions which may not be in accord with
the belief of some of our fellow-creatures; we will make no sacrifice
to the exigencies of differing orthodoxies, but neither have we any
idea of attacking them; we shall only act as if they did not exist.
For myself, it would be really painful to me for any one to convict me
of an effort to attract to my side of thinking a solitary adherent who
would not come voluntarily. I would conclude that my mind was perturbed
in its serene liberty, or that something weighed heavily upon it, if
I were no longer able to content myself with the simple and joyous
contemplation of the universe.

It will readily be supposed that if my object was to make war upon
established religions, I should adopt different tactics, and should
confine myself to exposing the impossibilities and the contradictions
in texts and dogmas that are viewed as sacred. This work has been
often and ably done. In 1865[I.61] I wrote as follows: "I protest
once for all against the false interpretation which has been given
to my writings, in accepting as polemical works the various essays
and religious and historical matters which I have published, or may
hereafter publish. Viewed as polemical works, these essays, I am
well aware, are very unskilful. Polemics demand a strategy to which
I am a stranger; it requires the writer to choose the weak point of
his adversaries, to hold on to it, to avoid uncertain questions, to
beware of all concession, and practically renounce even the essence
of scientific spirit. Such is not my method. Revelation and the
supernatural--those fundamental questions around which must revolve
all religious discussion--I do not touch upon; not because I may not
answer these questions with thorough certainty, but because such a
discussion is not scientific, or, rather, because independent science
presupposes that such questions are already answered. For me to
pursue any polemical or proselyting end, would be to bring forward
among the most difficult and delicate problems, a question which can
be more satisfactorily treated in the more practical phraseology in
which controversialists and apologists usually discuss it. Far from
regretting the advantages which I thus deprive myself of, I would
be well pleased thereat, if I could thus convince theologians that
my writings are of a different order to theirs, that they are only
intended as scholarly researches, open to attack as such, when they
sometimes attempt to apply to the Christian and Jewish religions the
same principles of criticism which are adopted towards other branches
of history and philology. Questions of a purely theological nature I am
no more called upon to discuss, than are Burnouf, Creuzer, Guizniaut,
and other critical historians of ancient religions, to defend the
creeds which they have made their study. The history of humanity seems
to me to be a vast grouping where everything, though unequal and
diverse, is of the same general order, arises from the same causes,
and is subject to the same laws. These laws I seek without any other
intention than to understand them exactly as they are. Nothing will
ever induce me to leave a sphere, humble it may be, but valuable to
science, for the paths of the controversialist, who is always certain
of the countenance of those interested in opposing war to war."

For the polemic system, the necessity of which I do not deny, though it
is neither adapted to my tastes nor to my capabilities, Voltaire was
enough. One cannot be, at the same time, a good controversialist and a
good historian. Voltaire, so weak in mere erudition; Voltaire who, to
us initiated into a better method, seems so poorly to comprehend the
spirit of antiquity, is twenty times victorious over adversaries yet
more destitute of true criticism than himself. A new edition of the
works of this great man would furnish a reply that is now much needed
to the usurpations of theology--a reply poor in itself, but well suited
to that which it would combat; a weak, old-fashioned reply to a weak,
old-fashioned science. Let us, who possess a love of the true and an
inquiring spirit, do better. Let us leave these discussions to those
who care for them; let us work for the limited class who follow the
true path of the human mind. Popularity, I know, is more easily gained
by those writers who, instead of pursuing the most elevated form of
truth, devote their energies to combating the opinions of their age;
yet by a just compensation, they are of no value after the theories
they combat are abandoned. Those who, in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries, refuted magic and astrology, rendered an immense service to
right and truth; and yet their writings are to-day unknown, and their
very victory has consigned them to oblivion.

I shall always hold to this rule of conduct as the only one suitable
to the dignity of the _savant_. I know that researches into religious
history always bring one face to face with vital questions which seem
to demand a solution. Persons unfamiliar with free speculation do not
at all comprehend the calm deliberation of thought; practical minds
grow impatient of a science which does not respond to their desires.
Let us guard against this vain ardor; let us remain in our respective
Churches, profiting by their secular teachings and their traditions
of virtue, participating in their charitable works, and enjoying the
poetry of their past. Let us only reject their intolerance. Let us even
pardon this intolerance, for like egotism it is one of the necessities
of human nature. The formation of new religious families or beliefs, or
any important change in the proportions of those existing to-day, is
contrary to present indications. Catholicism will soon be scarred and
seamed by great schisms; the days of Avignon, of the anti-popes, of
the Clementists and the Urbanists, are about to return. The Catholic
Church will see another sixteenth century; and yet, notwithstanding its
divisions, it will remain the Catholic Church. It is not probable that
for a hundred years to come the relative proportions of Protestants,
Catholics, and Jews, will be materially varied. But a great change
will be accomplished, or, at least, people will become sensible of
it. Every one of these religious families will have two classes of
adherents; the one believing simply and absolutely after the manner
of the middle ages, the other sacrificing the letter of the law and
maintaining its spirit. In every communion this latter great class
will increase; and as the spirit draws together quite as much as the
letter separates, the spiritually-minded of each faith will be brought
nearer. Fanaticism will be lost in a general tolerance. The theory of
the dogma will become merely a mysterious vault which no one will ever
care to open; and if the vault be empty, of what importance is it?
Only one religion--Islamism alone, I fear--will resist this mollifying
process. Among certain Mahommedans of the old school, several eminent
men in Constantinople, and above all among the Persians, there are the
germs of a tolerant and conciliatory spirit. If these germs of good be
crushed by the fanaticism of the Ulemas, Islamism will perish; for two
things are evident--that modern civilization does not wish to see the
old religions entirely die out; and that, on the other hand, it will
not be impeded in its work by senile religious institutions; these
latter must either bend or break.

And why should pure religion, which cannot be deemed the exclusive
attribute of any one sect or church, encumber itself with the
inconveniences of a position the advantages of which are denied it? Why
should it array standard against standard, all the time knowing that
safety and peace are in the reach of all, according to the merits of
each. Protestantism, which proceeded from a very absolute faith, led
in the sixteenth century to an open rupture. So far from showing any
reduction of dogmatism, the reform was marked by a revival of the most
rigid Christian spirit. The movement of the nineteenth century, on the
other hand, arises from a sentiment which is the inverse proposition of
dogmatism. It will not do away with any sect or church, but will lead
to a general concentration of all the churches. Divisions and schisms
increase the fanaticism and provoke reaction. The Luthers and Calvins
made the Caraffas, the Ghislieri, Loyolas, and Philip II. If our church
repels us, do not let us recriminate; let us the better appreciate the
mildness of modern manners which has made this hatred impotent; let us
console ourselves by reflecting on that invisible church which includes
excommunicated saints, and the noblest souls of every age. The banished
of the church are always its best blood; they are in advance of their
times; the heresy of the present is the orthodoxy of the future. And
what, after all, is the excommunication of men? The heavenly Father
only excommunicates the narrow-minded and selfish. If the priest
refuses to admit us to the cemetery, let us prohibit our families from
beseeching him to alter his decision. God is the Judge; and the Earth
is a kind and impartial mother. The body of the good man, placed in
ground not consecrated, carries there a consecration with it.

There are, without doubt, positions when the application of these
principles is difficult. The spirit of liberty, like the wind, bloweth
wherever it listeth. There are often people like clergymen, riveted,
as it were, to an absolute faith; but even among them, a noble mind
rises to the full extent of the issue. A worthy country priest, through
his solitary studies and the simple purity of his life, comes to a
knowledge of the impossibilities of literal dogmatism; and must he
therefore sadden those whom he formerly consoled, and explain to the
simple folk those mental processes which they cannot comprehend? Heaven
forbid! There are no two men in the world whose paths of duty are
exactly alike. The excellent Bishop Colenso showed an honesty which
the Church since her origin has not seen surpassed, in writing out
his doubts as they occurred to him. But the humble Catholic priest,
surrounded by timid and narrow-minded souls, must be quiet. Oh! how
many close-mouthed tombs about our village churches, hide similar
poetic reticence and angelic silence! Do those who speak when duty
dictates, equal, after all, in merit, those who in secret cherish and
restrain the doubts known only to God?

Theory is not practice. The ideal should remain the ideal, for it may
become soiled and contaminated by contact with reality. Sentiments
appropriate enough to those who are preserved by their innate nobleness
from all moral danger, are not as suitable to those who are of a lower
grade. It is only from ideas strictly limited that great actions are
evolved; and this is because human capacity is limited. A man wholly
without prejudice would be powerless and uninfluential. Let us enjoy
the liberty of the sons of God; but let us also beware that we are not
accomplices in diminishing the sum-total of virtue in the world--a
result which would necessarily arise, were Christianity to be weakened.
What, indeed, would we be without it? What would replace the noble
institutions to which it gave birth, such as the association of the
Sisters of Charity? How cold-hearted, mean, and petty mankind would
become! Our disagreement with those who believe in positive religions,
is, after all, purely scientific; we are with them at heart; and we
combat but one enemy, which is theirs as well as ours--and this enemy
is vulgar materialism.

Peace, then, in the name of God! Let the different orders of men live
side by side, and pass their days, not in doing injustice to their
own proper spirit by making concessions which would only deteriorate
them, but in mutually supporting each other. Nothing here below should
rule to the exclusion of its opposite; no one force should have the
power to suppress other forces. The true harmony of humanity results
from the free use of discordant notes. We know too well what follows
when orthodoxy succeeds in overpowering science. The Mussulman element
in Spain was extirpated because it clung too fondly to its orthodox
views. The experience of the French Revolution shows us what we may
expect when Rationalism attempts to govern people without reference
to their religious needs. The instinct of art, carried to a high
pitch of refinement, but without honesty, made of Italy a den of
thieves and cut-throats. Stupidity and mediocrity are the bane of
certain Protestant countries, where, under the pretext of common sense
and Christian spirit, art and science are both absolutely degraded.
Lucretia of Rome and Saint Theresa, Aristophanes and Socrates, Voltaire
and Francis of Assisi, Raphael and St. Vincent de Paul, all enjoyed, to
an equal degree, the right of existence, and humanity would have been
lessened, had a single one of these individual elements been wanting.




                               CHAPTER I.

           FORMATION OF BELIEFS RELATIVE TO THE RESURRECTION
                OF JESUS.--THE APPARITIONS AT JERUSALEM.


Jesus, although constantly speaking of resurrection and of a new
life, had not declared very plainly that he should rise again in the
flesh.[1.1]

The disciples, during the first hours which elapsed after his death,
had, in this respect, no fixed hope. The sentiments which they so
artlessly confide to us show that they believed all to be over. They
bewail and bury their friend, if not as one of the common herd who
had died, at least as a person whose loss was irreparable;[1.2] they
were sorrowful and cast down; the expectation which they had indulged
of seeing him realize the salvation of Israel, is proved to have been
vanity; we should speak of them as of men who have lost a grand and
beloved illusion.

But enthusiasm and love do not recognise situations unfruitful of
results. They amuse themselves with what is impossible, and, rather
than renounce all hope, they do violence to every reality. Many words
of their Master which they remembered--those, above all, in which he
had predicted his future advent--might be interpreted to mean that
he would rise from the tomb.[1.3] Such a belief was, otherwise, so
natural, that the faith of the disciples would have been sufficient to
have invented it in all its parts. The great prophets Enoch and Elijah
had not tasted death. They began to imagine that the patriarchs and
the chief fathers of the old law were not really dead, and that their
bodies were sepulchred at Hebron, alive and animated.{1.4} To Jesus had
happened the same fortune which is the lot of all men who have riveted
the attention of their fellow-men. The world, accustomed to attribute
to them superhuman virtues, could not admit that they had submitted to
the unjust, revolting, iniquitous law of the death common to all. At
the moment at which Mahomet expired, Omar rushed from the tent, sword
in hand, and declared that he would hew down the head of any one who
should dare to say that the prophet was no more.[1.5]

Death is so absurd a thing when it smites the man of genius or the man
of large heart, that people will not believe in the possibility of
such an error on the part of nature. Heroes do not die. What is true
existence but the recollection of us which survives in the hearts of
those who love us? For some years this adored Master had filled the
little world by which He was surrounded with joy and hope; could they
consent to allow Him to the decay of the tomb? No; He had too entirely
lived in those who surrounded Him, that they could but affirm that
after His death He would live for ever.{1.6}

The day which followed the burial of Jesus (Saturday, the 15th of the
month Nisan), was occupied with such thoughts as these. All manual
labor was forbidden on account of the Sabbath. But never was repose
more fruitful. The Christian conscience had, on that day, only one
object; the Master laid low in the tomb. The women, especially,
overwhelmed him in spirit with the most tender caresses. Their
thoughts leave not for an instant this sweet friend, lying in His
myrrh, whom the wicked had slain! Ah! doubtless, the angels are
surrounding Him, and veiling their faces with His shroud. Well did He
say that He should die, that His death would be the salvation of the
sinner, and that He should live again in the kingdom of His father.
Yes! He shall live again; God will not leave His Son a prey to hell;
He will not suffer His elect to see corruption.{1.7} What is this
tombstone which weighs upon Him? He will raise it up; He will reascend
to the right hand of His Father, whence He descended. And we shall see
Him again; we shall hear His charming voice; we shall enjoy afresh His
conversations, and they will have slain Him in vain.

The belief in the immortality of the soul, which through the influence
of the Grecian philosophy has become a dogma of Christianity, is
easily permitted to take the part of death; because the dissolution
of the body, by this hypothesis, is nothing else than a deliverance
of the soul, hereafter freed from the troublesome bonds without which
it is able to exist. But this theory of man, considered as a being
composed of two substances, was by no means clear to the Jews. The
reign of God and the reign of the spirit consisted, in their ideas,
in a complete transformation of the world and in the annihilation of
death.{1.8} To acknowledge that death could have the victory over
Jesus, over him who came to abolish the power of death, this was the
height of absurdity. The very idea that he could suffer had previously
been revolting to his disciples.{1.9} They had no choice, then,
between despair or heroic affirmation. A man of penetration might
have announced during the Saturday that Jesus would arise. The little
Christian society, on that day, worked the veritable miracle; they
resuscitated Jesus in their hearts by the intense love which they bore
towards him. They decided that Jesus had not died. The love of these
passionately fond souls was, truly, stronger than death;{1.10} and
as the characteristic of a passionate love is to be communicated, to
light up like a torch a sentiment which resembles it and is straightway
indefinitely propagated; so Jesus, in one sense, at the time of
which we are speaking, is already resuscitated. Only let a material
fact, insignificant of itself, allow the persuasion that his body
is no longer here below, and the dogma of the resurrection will be
established for ever.

This was exactly what happened in the circumstances which, being
partly obscure on account of the incoherence of their traditions,
and above all on account of the contradictions which they present,
have nevertheless been seized upon with a sufficient degree of
probability.{1.11}

On the Sunday morning, at a very early hour, the women of Galilee who
on Friday evening had hastily embalmed the body, repaired to the cave
where they had provisionally deposited it. These were, Mary of Magdala,
Mary Cleophas, Salome, Joanna, wife of Khouza, and others.{1.12} They
came, probably, each from her own abode; for if it is difficult to call
in question the tradition of the three synoptical Gospels, according
to which many women came to the tomb,{1.13} it is certain, on the
other hand, that in the two most authentic accounts{1.14} which we
possess of the resurrection, Mary of Magdala plays her part alone. In
any case, she had at this solemn moment a part to play altogether out
of the common order of events. It is her that we must follow step by
step; for she bore on that day during one hour all the burden of the
Christian conscience; her witness decided the faith of the future. We
must remember that the cave, wherein the body of Jesus was inclosed,
had been recently hewn out of the rock, and that it was situated in a
garden hard by the place of execution.{1.15} For this latter reason
only had it been selected, seeing that it was late in the day, and that
they were unwilling to violate the Sabbath.{1.16} The first Gospel
alone adds one circumstance, viz. that the cave was the property of
Joseph of Arimathea. But, in general, the anecdotical circumstances
added by the first Gospel to the common fund of tradition are without
value, above all when it treats of the last days of the life of
Jesus.{1.17} The same Gospel mentions another detail which, considering
the silence of the others, is destitute of probability; viz. the fact
of the seals and of a guard detailed to the tomb.{1.18} We must also
recollect that the mortuary vaults were low chambers hewn in the side
of a sloping rock, on which was contrived a vertical cutting. The door,
usually downwards, was closed by a very heavy stone, which fitted
into a rabbet.{1.19} These chambers had no locks secured with keys;
the weight of the stone was the sole safeguard they possessed against
robbers and profaners of tombs; thus were they arranged in such a
manner that either mechanical power or the united effort of several
persons was necessary to remove the stone. All the traditions are
agreed on this point, that the stone had been placed at the orifice of
the vault on the Friday evening.

But when Mary Magdala arrived on the Sunday morning, the stone was not
in its place. The vault was open. The body was no longer there. The
idea of the resurrection was with her, as yet, but little developed.
That which occupied her soul was a tender regret, and the desire to pay
funeral honors to the corpse of her divine friend. Her first feelings
then were those of surprise and grief. The disappearance of this
cherished corpse had taken away from her the last joy on which she had
depended. She could never touch him again with her hands. And what was
he become?... The idea of a profanation presented itself to her, and
she revolted at it. Perhaps, at the same time, a ray of hope beamed
across her mind. Without losing a moment, she runs to the house where
Peter and John were reunited.{1.20}

"They have taken away the body of our Master," she said, "and we know
not where they have laid him." The two disciples arise hastily and
run with all their might. John, the younger, arrives first. He stoops
down to look into the interior. Mary was right. The tomb was empty.
The linen cloths which had served as his shroud were lying apart in
the vault. In his turn Peter arrives. The two enter, examine the linen
cloths, no doubt spotted with blood, and remark, in particular, the
napkin which had enveloped his head rolled by itself in one corner of
the cave.{1.21} Peter and John returned to their homes overwhelmed
with grief. If they did not then pronounce the decisive words, "He is
risen!" we may affirm that such a consequence was their irrevocable
conclusion, and that the creative dogma of Christianity was already
propounded.

Peter and John having departed from the garden, Mary remained alone at
the edge of the cave. She wept copiously; one sole thought preoccupied
her mind: Where had they put the body?

Her woman's heart went no further from her desire to clasp again in her
arms the beloved corpse. Suddenly she hears a light rustling behind
her. There is a man standing. At first she believes it to be the
gardener. "Oh!" she says, "if thou hast borne him hence, tell me where
thou hast laid him, that I may take him away." For the only answer,
she thinks that she hears herself called by her name, "Mary!" It was
the voice that had so often thrilled her before. It was the accent of
Jesus. "Oh, my master!" she cries. She is about to touch him. A sort of
instinctive movement throws her at his feet to kiss them.{1.22}

The light vision gives way and says to her, "Touch me not." Little by
little the shadow disappears.{1.23}

But the miracle of love is accomplished. That which Cephas could
not do, Mary has done; she has been able to draw life, sweet and
penetrating words from the empty tomb. There is now no more talk of
inferences to be deduced, or of conjectures to be framed. Mary has seen
and heard. The resurrection has its first direct witness.

Frantic with love, intoxicated with joy, Mary returned to the city; and
to the first disciples whom she met, she says, "I have seen Him, He has
spoken to me."{1.24} Her greatly agitated mind{1.25}, her broken and
disconnected accents of speech, caused her to be taken by some persons
for one demented.{1.26} Peter and John, in their turn, relate what
they had seen; other disciples go to the tomb and see likewise.{1.27}
The fixed conviction of all this first party was that Jesus had risen
again. Many doubts still existed; but the assurance of Mary, of Peter,
and of John, imposed upon the others. At a later date, this was called
"the vision of Peter."{1.28}

Paul, in particular, does not speak of the vision of Mary, and
attributes all the honor of the first apparition to Peter. But this
expression is very indefinite. Peter only saw the empty cave, and
the linen cloth and the napkin. Only Mary loved enough to pass the
bounds of nature and revive the shade of the perfect master. In these
kinds of marvellous crises, to see after the others is nothing; all
the merit is in seeing for the first time, for the others afterwards
model their visions on the received type. It is the peculiarity of
fine organizations to conceive the image promptly, justly, and with
a sort of intimate sense of the end. The glory of the resurrection
belongs, then, to Mary of Magdala. After Jesus, it is Mary who has done
most for the foundation of Christianity. The shadow created by the
delicate sensibility of Magdalene wanders still on the earth. Queen
and patroness of idealists, Magdalene knew better than any one how to
assert her dream, and impose on every one the vision of her passionate
soul. Her great womanly affirmation: "He has risen," has been the basis
of the faith of humanity. Away, impotent reason! Apply no cold analysis
to this _chef-d'œuvre_ of idealism and of love. If wisdom refuses to
console this poor human race, betrayed by fate, let folly attempt the
enterprise. Where is the sage who has given to the world as much joy
as the possessed Mary of Magdala?

The other women, meanwhile, who had been to the tomb, spread abroad
different reports.{1.29} They had not seen Jesus;{1.30} but they told
of a man clothed in white, whom they had seen in the cave, and who had
said to them: "He is no longer here, return into Galilee: He will go
before you, there shall ye see Him."{1.31}

Perhaps it was the white linen clothes which had given rise to this
hallucination. Perhaps, again, they saw nothing at all, and only
began to speak of their vision when Mary of Magdala had related hers.
According to one of the most authentic texts,{1.32} indeed, they
maintained silence for some time, and their silence was subsequently
attributed to terror. However that may be, these stories continued
hourly to increase, as well as to undergo strange transformations.
The man in white became an angel of God; it was told how that his
clothing was glistening like the snow, and his figure like lightning.
Others spoke of two angels, of whom one appeared at the head and
the other at the foot of the tomb.{1.33} In the evening, it is
possible that many persons believed already that the women had seen
the angel descend from heaven, take away the stone, and Jesus then
shoot forth with a crash.{1.34} They themselves, no doubt, varied in
their narratives;{1.35} suffering from the effect of the imagination
of others, as always happens to people of the lower orders, they
scrupled not to introduce all sorts of embellishments, and were thus
participators in the creation of the legend which took its rise amongst
them and concerning them.

The day was stormy and decisive. The little company was sadly
dispersed. Some of them had already departed for Galilee, others hid
themselves from fear.{1.36} The deplorable scene of the Friday, the
heart-rending spectacle which they had before their eyes when they saw
Him of whom they had hoped such great things expire upon the gibbet,
without His Father having come to deliver him, had, moreover, shocked
the faith of many. The news spread by the women and by Peter had been
received by many of them with scarce dissembled incredulity.{1.37}
The different stories contradicted one another; the women went hither
and thither with strange and conflicting stories, each surpassing
the other. The most opposite ideas were propounded. Some of them
still deplored the sad event of the previous evening; others were
already rejoicing: all were disposed to collect the most extraordinary
tales. Meanwhile the mistrust which the excitement of Mary of Magdala
caused,{1.38} the want of authority on the part of the women, together
with the incoherence of their several stories, produced great doubts.
They were on the watch for new visions, which could not fail to appear.
The state of the sect was entirely favorable to the propagation of
strange rumors. If the entire little Church had been assembled, the
legendary creation would have been impossible; those who knew the
secret of the disappearance of the body would probably have protested
against the error. But in the confusion which prevailed amongst them,
an opportunity was afforded for the most fruitful misunderstandings.

It is the characteristic of those states of mind in which ecstasy and
apparitions are commonly generated, to be contagious.{1.39} The history
of all the great religious crises proves that these kinds of visions
are catching; in an assembly of persons entertaining the same beliefs,
it is enough for one member of the society to affirm that he sees or
hears something supernatural, and the others will also see and hear it.
Amongst the persecuted Protestants, a report was spread that angels had
been heard chanting psalms in the ruins of a recently destroyed temple;
the whole company went to the place and heard the same psalm.{1.40} In
cases of this kind, the most excited are those who make the law and who
regulate the common atmospheric heat. The exaltation of individuals
is transmitted to all the members; no one will be behind or confess
that he is less favored than the others. Those who see nothing are
carried away by excitement, and come to imagine either that they
are not so clear-sighted as others, or that they do not give a just
account of their feelings; in every case they are careful not to avow
their distrust: they would be disturbers of the common joy, they would
be causing sadness to the others, and would be themselves acting a
disagreeable part. When, then, an apparition is brought forward in
such meetings as these, the usual result is, that all either see it
or accept it. We must remember, moreover, what degree of intellectual
culture was possessed by the disciples of Jesus. What we call a weak
head is well accompanied by perfect goodness of heart. The disciples
believed in phantoms;{1.41} they imagined that they were surrounded
by miracles; they took no part whatever in the positive science of
the time. This science flourished amongst a few hundreds of men who
were only to be found in the countries to which the civilization of
the Greeks had penetrated. But the common people, in all countries,
knew very little about it. In this respect Palestine was one of the
most backward countries; the Galileans were the most ignorant of the
inhabitants of Palestine, and the disciples of Jesus might be counted
amongst the number of the most simple people of Galilee. It was to this
very simplicity that they owed their heavenly election. Among such a
people, belief in the marvellous discovered the most extraordinary
channels of propagation. The idea of the resurrection of Jesus being
once circulated, numerous visions would be the result. And so, indeed,
it came to pass.

Even during the course of that very Sunday, at an advanced period of
the forenoon, when the stories of the woman had already been freely
circulated, two disciples, one of whom was called Cleopatras or
Cleopas, set out on a short journey to a village called Emmaus,{1.42}
situated a short distance from Jerusalem.{1.43} They were conversing
together respecting the recent events, and were full of sadness. On
the road an unknown companion joined them and inquired the cause of
their deep grief: "Art thou, then, the only stranger at Jerusalem,"
they said to him, "that thou knowest not what things are come to pass
there? Hast thou not heard of Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet
mighty in deed and word before God and all the people? Knowest thou
not how that the chief priests and rulers have condemned him to death
and crucified him? We trusted that it had been he which should have
redeemed Israel; and besides all this, to-day is the third day since
these things were done--yea, and certain women, also, of our company
made us astonished who were early at the sepulchre; and when they
found not his body, they came, saying that they had also seen a vision
of angels who said that he was alive. And certain of them who were
with us went to the sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had
said; but him they saw not." The stranger was a pious man, well versed
in the Scriptures, quoting Moses and the prophets. These three good
people became fast friends. As they came near to Emmaus, the stranger
proposing to continue his journey through the village, the disciples
entreated him to tarry with them and partake of their evening meal.
The day was fast drawing to a close; the memories of the two disciples
become more vivid. This hour of the evening meal was that which they
remembered with the greatest pleasure and regret. How often had they,
at this very hour, seen their beloved Master forget the weighty duties
of the day in the _abandon_ of pleasant conversation, and, cheered by
the repast, speak to them of the fruit of the vine which He should
drink anew with them in the kingdom of His Father. The gesture which
He made while breaking the bread and offering it to them, according to
the custom of the head of the house among the Jews, was deeply engraven
on their memory. Giving way to a sort of pleasurable sadness, they
forget the stranger; it is Jesus whom they see holding the bread, and
then breaking it and offering it to them. These remembrances took such
a hold on them, that they scarcely perceived that their companion,
anxious to continue his journey, had left them. And when they had
recovered from their reverie: "Did we not perceive," they said,
"something strange? Do you not remember how our heart burned within
us, while he talked with us by the way?" "And the prophecies which he
cited proved clearly that Messiah must suffer before entering into
his glory. Did you not recognise him at the breaking of the bread?"
"Yes! up to that time our eyes were closed; they were opened when he
vanished." The conviction of the two disciples was that they had seen
Jesus. They returned with all haste to Jerusalem. The principal group
of the disciples were exactly at that time assembled around Peter.{1.44}

Night had completely set in. Each one communicated his impressions
and the news which he had heard. The general belief already willed
that Jesus had arisen. On the entrance of the two disciples, they were
immediately informed of what they called "the vision of Peter."{1.45}
They, on their side, related what had happened to them on the road to
Emmaus, and how they had recognised him by the breaking of bread. The
imagination of all became vividly excited. The doors were closed, for
they were afraid of the Jews. Oriental towns are hushed after sunset.
The silence accordingly within the house was frequently profound; all
the little noises which were accidentally made were interpreted in the
sense of the universal expectation. Ordinarily, expectation is the
father of its object.{1.46} During a moment of silence, some slight
breath passed over the face of the assembly. At these decisive periods
of time, a current of air, a creaking window, or a chance murmur, are
sufficient to fix the belief of peoples for ages. At the same time that
the breath was perceived they fancied that they heard sounds. Some of
them said that they had discerned the word _schalom_, "happiness" or
"peace." This was the ordinary salutation of Jesus and the word by
which He signified His presence. No possibility of doubt; Jesus is
present; He is in the assembly. That is His cherished voice; each one
recognises it.{1.47} This idea was all the more easily entertained
because Jesus had said that whenever they were assembled in His name,
He would be in the midst of them. It was, then, an acknowledged fact
that Jesus had appeared before His assembled disciples, on the night of
Sunday. Some pretended to have observed on His hands and His feet the
mark of the nails, and on His side the mark of the spear which pierced
Him. According to a widely spread tradition, it was the same night as
that on which He breathed upon His disciples the Holy Spirit.{1.48}
The idea, at least, that His breath had passed over them on their
reassembling was generally admitted. Such were the incidents of the
day which has decided the lot of the human race. The opinion that
Jesus had arisen was thus irrevocably propounded. The sect which was
thought to have been extinguished by the death of the Master, was,
from henceforth, assured of a wondrous future. And yet some doubts
were still existing.{1.49} The apostle Thomas, who was not present
at the meeting of Sunday evening, confessed that he envied those who
had seen the mark of the spear and of the nails. We read that, eight
days afterwards, he was satisfied.{1.50} But a little stain, and as
it were a mild reproach, have always rested upon him in consequence.
By an instinctive view of unerring accuracy, man understands that the
ideal is not to be touched with hands, and that there is no occasion
for its submission to the control of experience. _Noli me tangere_ is
the motto of all grand affection. The sense of touch leaves no room
for faith; the eye, a purer and more noble organ than the hand--even
the eye which nothing soils, and by which nothing is soiled, became
very soon a superfluous witness. A singular sensation began to appear;
all hesitation was construed into a want of loyalty and love; each
was ashamed to be behindhand; the desire to behold was interdicted.
The dictum, "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet have
believed,"{1.51} became the word of salutation. It was thought to be
more generous to believe without proof. The true-hearted friends would
rather not have had the vision.{1.52} Just as, in later times, St.
Louis refused to be a witness to an eucharistic miracle that he might
not detract from the merit of faith. Henceforth this credulity became a
terrible emulation, and, as it were, a sort of out-bidding one another.
The reward consisting in believing without having seen, faith at any
price, gratuitous faith--faith approaching to madness--was exalted
as if it were the chief gift of the soul. The _credo quia absurdum_
is established; the law of Christian dogmas will be an unwonted
progression which no impossibility shall be able to arrest. The most
cherished dogmas as regards piety, those to which it will attach itself
with the most resolute frenzy, will be the most repugnant to reason,
in consequence of that touching idea that the moral worth of faith
increases in proportion to the difficulty of believing, and because
men are not called on to prove any love when they admit one which is
evident.

These first days were like a period of intense fever, when the
faithful, mutually inebriated, and imposing upon each other by their
mutual conceits, passed their days in constant excitement, and were
lifted up with the most exalted notions. The visions multiplied without
ceasing. Their evening assemblies were the usual periods for their
production.{1.53} When the doors were closed and all were possessed
with their besetting idea, the first who fancied that he heard the
sweet word _schalom_, "salutation," or "peace," gave the signal. All
then listened, and very soon heard the same thing. Then it was that
there was great joy among these simple souls when they knew that the
Master was in the midst of them. Each one tasted of the sweetness of
this thought, and believed himself to be favored with some inward
colloquy. Other visions were noised abroad of a different description,
and recalled that of the travellers of Emmaus. At meal-time they saw
Jesus appear, take the bread, bless it and break it, and offer it to
the one whom He honored with a vision of Himself.{1.54} In a few days
a complete cycle of stories, widely differing in their details, but
inspired by the same spirit of love and absolute faith, was formed and
disseminated. It is the greatest of errors to suppose that legendary
lore requires much time to mature; sometimes a legend is the product
of a single day. The Sunday evening [16 of Nisan, 5 April] had not
passed before the legend of Jesus was held as a reality. Eight days
afterwards, the character of the resuscitated life which had been
conceived for him, was stayed in its progress, at least as regards its
essential characteristics.




                              CHAPTER II.


           DEPARTURE OF THE DISCIPLES FROM JERUSALEM.--SECOND
                        GALILEAN LIFE OF JESUS.


The most earnest desire of those who have lost a dear friend is to
revisit the places where they have lived with him. It was no doubt
this feeling which, some days after the events of Easter, induced
the disciples to return to Galilee. From the moment of the arrest
of Jesus, and immediately after His death, it is probable that many
of His disciples had already taken their departure for the northern
provinces. At the period of the resurrection, a report was spread that
it was in Galilee that they would see him again. Some of the women who
had been at the sepulchre returned with the statement that the angel
had told them that Jesus had already preceded them into Galilee.[2.1]
Others said that it was Jesus himself who had told them to meet him
there.[2.2] Sometimes they even fancied that they remembered how that
He had told them so in his lifetime.[2.3] It is, however, certain,
that at the end of some days, perhaps after they had completed the
solemnities of the Paschal feast, the disciples believed that they
had received a commandment to return to their own country, and they
returned accordingly.[2.4] Perhaps the visions began to diminish in
frequency at Jerusalem. A sort of homesickness possessed them. The
short apparitions of Jesus were not sufficient to compensate for the
enormous void left to them by His absence. They fancied that they were
actuated by a melancholy affection for the lake and the beautiful
mountains where they had tasted of the kingdom of God.[2.5] The women,
especially, desired at all hazards to return to the country where they
had enjoyed so much happiness. It must be observed that the order for
leaving Jerusalem came especially from them.[2.6] This odious city
weighed down their spirits; they longed to revisit the country where
they had possessed Him whom they so well loved, assured aforehand in
their own minds that they would need him there. The greater part of
the disciples then departed full of joy and hope, perhaps in company
with the caravan which was conducting homewards the pilgrims who had
attended the Paschal feast. That which they hoped to find in Galilee
was not only fleeting visions, but Jesus Himself to continue with them
as He had done previous to His death. An intense expectation filled
their minds. Was He about to restore the kingdom of Israel, to found
in definite form the kingdom of God, and, as it has been said, "reveal
His justice?"[2.7] All this is possible. Already did they recall to
their minds the smiling landscapes where they had been happy with
Him. Many thought that He had told them that He would meet them on a
mountain,[2.8] probably that one to which so many sweet remembrances
of Him were attached. Never certainly was any more cheerful journey
undertaken. They were on the eve of realizing all their dreams of
happiness. They were going to see Him again.

And indeed they did see him. Hardly restored to their peaceable
fantasies, they believed themselves to be placed in the midst of the
Gospel dispensation. It was about the end of the month of April. The
ground was covered with red anemones, which are probably the "flowers
of the field," from which Jesus loved to draw his similes. At every
step they recollected His words, attached, as it were, to the thousand
events of the way. See this tree, this flower, this seed, from which
he took up his parable! here is the little hill on which he delivered
his most touching discourses; here is the little ship in which he
taught. It was all like a beautiful dream commenced anew, like an
illusion which had vanished, and then reappeared. The enchantment
seemed to spring up again. The sweet "kingdom of God" to be established
in Galilee, took possession of their hearts. This pellucid air, those
mornings spent on the bank of the lake or on the mountain, those nights
passed on the lake while guarding their nets,--all these returned
to their minds in distinct visions. They saw him in every place in
which they had lived with him. Doubtless it was not always the joy of
possession. Sometimes the lake appeared to them to be very solitary.
But a great love is contented with small matters. If all of us, while
we are alive, could stealthily once a year calculate on a moment long
enough to behold those loved ones whom we have lost, and to exchange
but two words with them, death would be no more death.

Such was the state of mind of this faithful company in this short
period when Christianity seemed to return for a moment to its cradle
to bid Him an eternal adieu. The principal disciples, Peter, Thomas,
Nathanael, the sons of Zebedee, returned to the shore of the lake and
henceforth took up their abode together;[2.9] they had taken up their
former trade of fishers at Bethsaida, or at Capernaum. The women of
Galilee were, doubtless, with them. More than the others, they had
urged the return to Galilee; for with them it was a matter of heartfelt
love. This was their last act in the foundation of Christianity. From
this moment we see no more of them. Faithful to their affection,
they would not quit the country where they had tasted of so great
enjoyment.[2.10] Soon they were forgotten, and as Galilean Christianity
had scarcely any posterity, the remembrance of them was completely lost
in certain ramifications of the tradition. These touching demoniacs,
these converted sinners, these real founders of Christianity, Mary of
Magdala, Mary Cleophas, Joanna, Susanna, all passed into the condition
of forsaken saints. St. Paul knows nothing about them.[2.11] The faith
which they had created almost threw them into oblivion. We must come
down to the middle ages before justice is rendered to them; and when
one of them, Mary Magdalene, again assumes her lofty position in the
Christian heaven.

The visions on the lake shore appear to have been frequent enough.
On these very waters where they had touched God, how was it that the
disciples had not again beheld their Divine friend? The most simple
circumstances restored Him to them. On one occasion they had toiled
all the night without having taken a single fish; all on a sudden the
nets are filled: this was a miracle. It seemed to them that some one
had told them from the shore, "Cast your nets to the right." Peter and
John looked at each other: "It is the Lord," said John. Peter, who was
naked, hastily covered himself with his tunic and jumped into the sea,
that he might go and rejoin the invisible counsellor.[2.12] At other
times, Jesus came to share their simple repasts. One day, when they
had done fishing, they were surprised to find the coals lighted, with
a fish upon the fire, and some bread beside it. A lively recollection
of their feasts in times past took possession of their minds, for
the bread and the fish had always been essential characteristics of
them. Jesus was in the habit of offering portions to them. They were
persuaded after their meal that Jesus was seated at their side, and had
presented them with these victuals, which had become already, in their
view, eucharistic and holy.[2.13]

It was John and Peter, more than all the others, who had been favored
with these intimate conversations with the well-beloved phantom. One
day Peter, dreaming perhaps (But why do I say this? Was not their
life on these shores a perpetual dream?), thought that he heard Jesus
ask him, "Lovest thou me?" The question was thrice repeated. Peter,
altogether under the influence of tender and sad feelings, imagined
that he replied, "Oh! yea, Lord! Thou knowest that I love thee;" and on
each occasion the apparition said, "Feed my sheep."[2.14] On another
occasion Peter confided to John a wondrous dream. He had dreamt that
he was walking with the Master. John was coming up a few steps behind.
Jesus spoke to him in very obscure language, which appeared to tell
him of a prison or a violent death, and repeated to him at different
times, "Follow me." Then Peter, pointing to John, who was following,
with his finger, asked, "Lord, and this man?" Jesus said, "If I wish
that this man remain until I come, what is that to thee? Follow thou
me." After the martyrdom of Peter, John recollected this dream, and saw
in it a prediction of the kind of death by which his friend suffered.
He told it to his disciples; and they on their part fancied that they
had discovered an assurance that their master would not die before
the final advent of Jesus.[2.15] These grand and melancholy dreams,
these unceasing conversations interrupted and again commenced with the
beloved departed One, occupied the days and the months. The sympathy
of Galilee in behalf of the prophet whom the Jerusalemites had put to
death, was renewed. More than five hundred persons were already devoted
to the memory of Jesus.[2.16] In the absence of the lost Master, they
obeyed the chief of the disciples, and above all, Peter. One day, when
following their spiritual chiefs, the Galileans had climbed up one of
the mountains to which Jesus had often led them, and they fancied that
they saw him again. The air on these mountaintops is full of strange
mirages. The same illusion which had previously taken place in behalf
of the more intimate of the disciples, was produced again.[2.17] The
whole assembly imagined that they saw the Divine spectre displayed in
the clouds; they all fell on their faces and worshipped.[2.18] The
feeling which the clear horizon of these mountains inspires is the
idea of the immensity of the world and the desire of conquering it.
On one of these neighboring points, Satan, pointing out with his hand
to Jesus the kingdoms of the earth, and all the glory of them, it is
said proposed to give them to him if he would fall down and worship
him. On this occasion, it was Jesus who, from the top of these sacred
summits, pointed out to his disciples the whole world, and assured
them of the future. They came down from the mountain persuaded that
the Son of God had commanded them to convert the whole human race, and
had promised to be with them even to the end of the world. A strange
ardor, a divine fire, took possession of them when they returned from
these conversations. They looked upon themselves as the missionaries of
the world, capable of effecting prodigious deeds. St. Paul saw many of
those who were present at this extraordinary scene. At the expiration
of twenty-five years, the impression on their minds was still as strong
and as vivid as it was on the first day.[2.19]

Nearly a year passed over during which they lived this charmed life,
suspended, as it were, between heaven and earth.[2.20] The charm,
far from diminishing, increased. It is the peculiarity of grand and
holy enterprises, that they always become grander and more pure of
themselves. The feeling towards a beloved one whom we have lost is
always more intense than on the day following his death. The more
distant it is, the more intense does this feeling become. The sorrow
which at first was part of it, and in a certain sense diminished it,
is changed into a serene piety. The image of the departed one is
transfigured, idealized, and becomes the soul of life, the principle of
every action, the source of every joy, the oracle which we consult, the
consolation which we seek in times of despondency. Death is a necessary
condition of every apotheosis. Jesus, so beloved during His life, was
even more so after His last breath; or rather His last breath became
the commencement of His actual life in the bosom of His Church. He
became the intimate friend, the confidant, the travelling companion,
the one who, at the corner of the road, joins you and follows you,
sits down to table with you, and reveals Himself as He vanishes out of
your sight.[2.21] The absolute want of scientific exactitude in the
minds of these new believers, was the reason why no question was ever
propounded as to the nature of His existence. They represented Him as
impassible, endowed with a subtle body, passing through open windows,
sometimes visible, sometimes invisible, but always alive. Sometimes
they thought that His body was not a material body; that it was a pure
shadow or apparition.[2.22] At other times they accorded to Him a
material body with flesh and bones; with an unaffected minuteness, and
as if the hallucination had wished to be on its guard against itself,
they represented Him as drinking and eating; nay even as feeling.[2.23]
Their ideas on this point were as vague and uncertain as the waves of
the sea.

With difficulty have we thus far dreamed, in order to propose a
trifling question, but one which admits not of easy solution. Whilst
Jesus rose again in this real manner, that is to say in the hearts of
those who loved Him; while the immovable conviction of the apostles
was being formed and the faith of the world being prepared--in what
place did the worms consume the lifeless corpse which, on the Saturday
evening, had been deposited in the sepulchre? This detail will be
always steadily ignored; for, naturally, the Christian traditions
can give us no information on the subject. It is the spirit which
quickeneth; the flesh is nothing.[2.24] The resurrection was the
triumph of the idea concerning its reality. The idea once entered upon
its immortality, what need of discussion about the body?

About the year 80 or 85, when the actual text of the first Gospel
received its last additions, the Jews had already formed a fixed
opinion in regard to it.[2.25] According to them, the disciples
came by night and stole away the body. The consciences of the
Christians were alarmed at this report, and, in order to put an end
to such an objection at once, they invented the circumstances of
the guard of soldiers and the seal affixed to the sepulchre.[2.26]
This circumstance, related only in the first Gospel, and mixed up
with legends of very doubtful authority,[2.27] is in no respect
admissible.[2.28] But the explanation of the Jews, although
unanswerable, is far from altogether satisfactory. We can scarcely
admit that those who so bravely believed that Jesus had risen again,
were the very ones who had carried off the body. However slight the
accuracy with which these men reflected, we can hardly imagine so
strange an illusion. It must be remembered that the little Church was
at this moment completely dispersed. There was no organization, no
centralization, and no open regularity of proceeding. The contradictory
stories which have reached us respecting the incidents of the Sunday
morning, prove that the reports were spread through different channels,
and that there was no particular care on their part to harmonize them.
It is possible that the body was taken away by some of the disciples,
and by them carried into Galilee. The others, remaining at Jerusalem,
would not have been cognizant of the fact. On the other hand, the
disciples who carried the body into Galilee,[2.29] could not have,
as yet, become acquainted with the stories which were invented at
Jerusalem, so that the belief in the resurrection would have been
propounded in their absence, and would have surprised them accordingly.
They could not have protested; and had they done so, nothing would
have been disarranged. When a question of miracles is concerned,
a tardy correction is not the way to a denial.[2.30] Never did a
material difficulty prevent the sentimental development and creation
of the desired fictions.[2.31] In the history of the recent miracle of
Salette, the imposture has been clearly demonstrated;[2.32] this does
not damage the prosperity of the temple, nor the increase of belief in
it. It is also permissible to suppose that the disappearance of the
body was the work of the Jews. Perhaps they thought that in this way
they would prevent the scenes of tumult which might be enacted over the
corpse of a man so popular as Jesus. Perhaps they wished to prevent
any noisy funeral ceremonies, or the erection of a monument to this
just man. Lastly, who knows that the disappearance of the body was not
effected by the proprietor of the garden or by the gardener?[2.33] This
proprietor, as it would seem from such evidence as we possess,[2.34]
was a stranger to the sect. They chose his cave because it was the
nearest to Golgotha, and because they were pressed for time.[2.35]
Perhaps he was dissatisfied with this mode of taking possession of his
property, and caused the corpse to be removed. Of a truth, the details
related by the fourth Gospel of the linen cloths left in the tomb,
and of the napkin folded away carefully by itself in a corner,[2.36]
scarcely agree with such a hypothesis as this. This last circumstance
would lead to the conclusion that a female hand had slipped in
there.[2.37] The five stories of the visit of the women to the tomb
are so confused and so embarrassed, that we may well be permitted to
suppose that they conceal some misconception. The female conscience,
when under the influence of passionate love, is capable of the most
extravagant illusions. Often is it the abettor of its own dreams.[2.38]
To introduce these kinds of incidents regarded as miraculous,
deliberately deceives no one; but all the world, without thinking of
it, is induced to connive at them. Mary of Magdala had been, according
to the parlance of the age, "possessed with seven devils."[2.39] In
all this we must consider the want of precision of eastern women,
from their absolute defect of education and the particularly slight
knowledge of their sincerity. The conviction of being exalted, renders
any return to oneself impossible. When one sees the heaven everywhere,
one is induced at times to put oneself in the place of heaven.

Let us draw a veil over these mysteries. In the circumstances of a
religious crisis, everything being considered as divine, the very
grandest effects can be produced from the very meanest causes. If we
were witnesses of the strange facts which lie at the bottom of all
works of faith, we should see therein circumstances which seem to us
quite out of proportion to the importance of the results, and others at
which we could but smile. Our old cathedrals are counted amongst the
most beautiful things of the world; one can scarcely enter them without
being in some sort inebriated with the infinite. But these splendid
marvels are almost always the blossoming of some little deceit. And
what does it matter definitively? The result alone counts in such a
matter. Faith purifies all. The material incident which has produced
the belief in the resurrection was not the veritable cause of the
resurrection. It was love that made Jesus rise again; and this love was
so powerful that a little risk was sufficient to build up the universal
faith. If Jesus had been less loved, if the belief of the resurrection
had had less reason for its establishment, these sorts of risks would
have been incurred in vain; nothing would have come of it. A grain of
sand causes the fall of a mountain, when the moment for the fall of the
mountain has arrived. The grandest results are produced altogether from
causes very grand and very insignificant. The grand results alone are
real; the little ones only serve to hasten the production of an effect
which has been a long time in a state of preparation.




                              CHAPTER III.

            RETURN OF THE APOSTLES TO JERUSALEM.--END OF THE
                         PERIOD OF APPARITIONS.


The apparitions, in the meanwhile, as is usually the case in all
movements of too credulous enthusiasm, began to diminish. Popular
chimeras are nearly allied to contagious diseases; quickly do they
become stale and change their shape. The activity of these ardent souls
was already turned in another direction. That which they believed they
had heard from the lips of their beloved and resuscitated friend,
was the command to go before him to preach and to convert the world.
But where should they commence? Naturally at Jerusalem.[3.1] The
return to Jerusalem was accordingly resolved upon by those who at
this time directed the movements of the sect. As these journeys were
ordinarily made in caravanseries at the periods of the feasts, we may
suppose, with sufficient probability, that the return of which we are
treating, took place at the feast of Tabernacles at the end of the
year thirty-three or at the Paschal feast of the year thirty-four.
Galilee was, accordingly, abandoned by Christianity, and abandoned for
all time. The little church which remained there, doubtless, still
existed; but we intend to speak no more of it. It was probably crushed,
like all the rest, by the frightful catastrophe which overwhelmed the
country during the war of Vespasian; the residue of the dispersed
society took refuge, from that time, in Jerusalem. After the war, it
was not Christianity which was replanted in Galilee; it was Judaism.
In the second, third, and fourth centuries, Galilee was altogether a
Jewish country, the centre of Judaism, the country of the Talmud.[3.2]
Thus Galilee was considered as of no account whatsoever in the history
of Christianity; but this was the sacred time of the church, _par
excellence_; it conferred on the new religion its enduring qualities,
its poetry, its penetrating charms. "_The Gospel_," according to the
theory of the synoptics, was a Galilean work. But we shall endeavor to
show, further on, that "_The Gospel_," thus understood, has been the
principal cause of the success of Christianity, and continues to be the
surest guarantee of its future history.

It is probable that a portion of the little school which surrounded
Jesus during his last days had remained at Jerusalem at the time
of their separation. The belief in the resurrection was already
established. This belief became accordingly developed from two points
of view, each having a perceptibly different aspect, and such,
doubtless, is the reason for the completely different variations
which are so remarkable in the stories of the apparitions. Two
traditions--one Galilean, the other Jerusalemitish--were intended;
according to the former, all the apparitions (except those of the
earliest period) had occurred in Galilee; according to the latter,
they had all taken place at Jerusalem.[3.3] The agreement of the two
portions of the little church respecting the fundamental dogma, only
served, as was natural, to confirm the common belief. They were united
by the bonds of the same faith; again and again they said, "He is
risen!" Perhaps the joy and enthusiasm which were the consequence of
this harmony produced for them certain other visions. It is at about
this period that we can place the "vision of James" mentioned by St.
Paul.[3.4] James was the brother, or at least the kinsman, of Jesus.
It is not clear that he accompanied Jesus during his last sojourn at
Jerusalem, but he came there, probably, with the apostles, when they
departed from Galilee. All the chief apostles had had their vision;
it was hard that this "brother of the Lord" should not also have had
his. It would appear that this vision was eucharistic--that is to say,
one in which Jesus appeared taking and breaking the bread.[3.5] Later,
those members of the Christian family who attached themselves to James,
and who are called the Hebrews, referred that vision to the very day of
the resurrection, and pretended that it had been the first of all.[3.6]

It is, indeed, very remarkable that the family of Jesus, certain
members of which during his life had been unbelieving and opposed to
his mission,[3.7] should now have become members of the Church and
hold a position of eminence in it. We are compelled to suppose that
the reconciliation took place during the sojourn of the apostles in
Galilee. The renown with which the name of their kinsman had suddenly
become invested--these five hundred persons who believed in him and
were assured that they had seen him resuscitated--might have made an
impression on their minds.[3.8] Since the definitive establishment
of the apostles at Jerusalem, we see with them Mary, the mother of
Jesus, and the brethren of Jesus.[3.9] As far as Mary is concerned,
it appears that John, in the belief that he was thus obeying a
recommendation of his Master, had adopted her and taken her into his
own house.[3.10] He perhaps took her to Jerusalem. This woman, whose
history and personal characteristics had been veiled in profound
obscurity, became henceforth of great importance. The saying which
the Evangelist puts into the mouth of some unknown woman: "Blessed is
the womb that bare thee, and the paps which thou hast sucked!" began
to be verified. It is probable that Mary did not survive her son many
years.[3.11]

In respect to the brothers of Jesus, the question is more obscure.
Jesus had brothers and sisters.[3.12] It seems probable, nevertheless,
that in the class of persons who were termed "brothers of the Lord,"
were comprehended kinsmen of the second degree. It is only in connexion
with James that the inquiry possesses any consequence. Was this James
the Just, or "brother of the Lord," whom we are about to regard as
playing a grand part during the first thirty years of Christianity--was
he James the son of Alphæus, who appears to have been a cousin-german
of Jesus, or was he a real brother of Jesus? The data, in this respect,
are altogether uncertain and contradictory. What we know of this James
gives us an idea of a character so far removed from that of Jesus that
one can hardly believe that two men so different could be born of the
same mother. If Jesus is the true founder of Christianity, James was
its most dangerous enemy; he almost ruined it through his narrow mind.
Later, it was certainly believed that James the Just was a real brother
of Jesus.[3.13] But perhaps some confusion has always surrounded this
subject. However that may be, henceforth the apostles only separated
to undertake temporary journeys. Jerusalem became their centre,[3.14]
they seem to be afraid to disperse, and certain traits appear to
manifest amongst them a determination to prevent a return into Galilee,
which would have dissolved their little society. They expected an
express order from Jesus, forbidding them to quit Jerusalem, at least
until the grand manifestation which awaited them.[3.15] The apparitions
became more and more infrequent. They spoke of them far less often,
and they began to think that they should no more see the Master until
his solemn return in the clouds. Their imaginations were forcibly
impressed by a promise which they supposed that Jesus had made. During
His lifetime, they said Jesus had frequently spoken of the Holy Spirit,
conceived as a personification of divine wisdom.[3.16] He had promised
His disciples that this Spirit should be their strength in the battles
which they would have to fight, their inspiration in difficulties,
their advocate if they were called upon to speak in public. When
these visions became rare, they relied on this Spirit, viewed as a
Comforter, as another self whom Jesus would doubtless send to his
friends. Sometimes they fancied that Jesus, displaying himself suddenly
in the midst of his assembled disciples, had breathed upon them from
His own mouth a current of vivifying air.[3.17] On other occasions,
the disappearance of Jesus was regarded as the condition of the coming
of the Spirit.[3.18] They thought that in these apparitions he had
promised the descent of this Spirit.[3.19] Many set up an intimate
connexion between this descent and the restoration of the kingdom
of Israel.[3.20] All the activity of imagination which the sect had
displayed in the creation of the legend of Jesus resuscitated, it now
began to apply to the creation of a similar pious belief respecting the
descent of the Spirit and His marvellous gifts.

It seems, meanwhile, that a grand apparition of Jesus had again
taken place at Bethany, or on the Mount of Olives.[3.21] Certain
traditions referred to that vision the final recommendations, the
reiterated promise of the sending of the Holy Spirit, and the act by
which He invested His disciples with power to remit sins.[3.22] The
characteristic features of these apparitions became more and more
vague; one was confounded with another, and the result was, that
they ceased to think much about them.[3.23] It was a received fact
that Jesus was alive, that he had manifested himself by a number of
apparitions sufficient to prove His existence, and that he would
continue still to manifest Himself in partial visions, until the grand
final revelation when everything would be consumed.[3.24] Thus St.
Paul represents the vision which he saw on the route from Damascus as
being of the same order as those which have been related.[3.25] At
any rate, it was admitted that in an ideal sense the Master was with
his disciples and would be with them even to the end.[3.26] In the
early days, the apparitions were very frequent; Jesus was imagined
as dwelling upon the earth constantly, and more or less fulfilling
the functions of an earthly life. When the visions became rare, they
inclined to another conception, representing Jesus as having entered
into His glory and seated at the right hand of His Father.

"He is ascended into heaven," they said.

This saying, though depending for the most part upon the state of
vague idea in which they indulged, or on a process of induction,[3.27]
was by many converted into a material scene. It was desirable that at
the close of the last vision which was common to all the apostles, and
when he delivered to them His last commands, Jesus should be taken up
into heaven.[3.28] Afterwards, the scene was developed, and became
a complete legend. They related that men of heavenly appearance,
surrounded by the most appalling brilliancy,[3.29] appeared at the
moment when a cloud surrounded Him, and consoled His disciples by the
assurance of His return in the clouds precisely similar to the scene
which they had just witnessed. The death of Moses had been invested
by the popular ideas with circumstances of the same sort.[3.30]
Perhaps also they bethought them of the ascension of Elijah.[3.31] A
tradition[3.32] placed the locality of this scene near Bethany, on the
summit of the Mount of Olives, a neighborhood always very dear to the
disciples, doubtless because Jesus had dwelt there.

The legend relates that the disciples, after this marvellous scene,
returned to Jerusalem "with joy."[3.33] For our own part, it is with
sorrow that we say a last farewell to Jesus. To find Him again still
living his shadowy life, has been to us a great consolation. This
second life of Jesus, a pale image of the first, is yet full of charms
for us. Now all trace of Him is lost. Exalted on His cloud at the right
hand of His Father, He leaves us with men; and, heavens! how great is
the fall! The reign of poetry is past; Mary of Magdala retired to her
hamlet-home, has there buried her recollections of him. In consequence
of this never-ending injustice which permits man to appropriate to
himself alone the work in which woman has taken an equal share, Cephas
eclipses her and sends her to oblivion. No more sermons on the Mount;
no more of the possessed ones cured; no more courtezans convinced
of sin; no more of those wonderful fellow-laborers in the work of
Redemption, whom Jesus had not repulsed. God truly has disappeared.
The history of the Church will henceforth be oftener the history of
treacheries than subservient to the idea of Jesus. But, such as it is,
this history is still a hymn to his glory. The words and the image
of the illustrious Nazarene will stand out in the midst of infinite
miseries, as a sublime ideal--we shall the better understand how grand
He was, when we shall see how paltry were His disciples.




                              CHAPTER IV.

         DESCENT OF THE HOLY SPIRIT; ECSTATICAL AND PROPHETICAL
                               PHENOMENA.


Mean, narrow, ignorant, inexperienced they were, as much as was
possible for them to be. Their simplicity of mind was extreme; their
credulity had no bounds. But they had one quality; they loved their
Master to madness. The remembrance of Jesus, the only moving power of
their life, had possessed them constantly and entirely; and it was
clear that they existed only on account of Him who, during two or
three years, had so completely attached and seduced them to Himself.
The safety of minds of a secondary class, who are unable to love God
directly--that is, to discover the truth, create the beautiful, and do
what is right of themselves--is the loving of some one in whom there
shines forth a reflection of the true, the beautiful, and the good.
The majority of mankind require a graduated worship. The multitude of
worshippers pant for a mediator between themselves and God.

When an individual has succeeded in gathering around his person, by
a highly elevated moral tie, a number of other individuals, and then
dies, it invariably happens that the survivors, who were perhaps up to
that time often divided amongst themselves by rivalries and differences
of opinion, become bound together by a mutual and fast friendship.
A thousand cherished images of the past, which they regret, form a
common treasure to them. One way of loving a dead person is to love
those with whom we have known him to associate. We court their society
that we may recall to our minds the times which are no more. A profound
saying of Jesus[4.1] is then discovered to be true to the letter: "The
dead one is present in the midst of those who are united again by his
memory."

The affection which the disciples entertained for each other during
the lifetime of Jesus, was thus increased tenfold after his death.
They formed a little society, very retired, and they lived exclusively
within themselves. The number of them at Jerusalem was one hundred and
twenty.[4.2] Their piety was active, and as yet, completely restrained
by the forms of Jewish religionism. The temple was their chief place
of worship.[4.3] No doubt, they labored for their living; but manual
labor occupied but a small place in the Jewish economy. Every Jew
had a trade, and this trade implied no lack of learning or of gentle
breeding. With us in our day, our material needs are so difficult to
satisfy, that a man who lives by manual labor is obliged to work twelve
or fifteen hours a day; the man of leisure alone can apply himself
to intellectual pursuits; the acquisition of learning is a rare and
expensive matter. But in these old societies, of which the East of
our own day furnishes some idea; in those climates where nature is so
lavish for man's wants, and exacts so little in return--the life of a
laborer left plenty of leisure. A sort of method of common instruction
rendered every man well up in the prevailing ideas. Food and raiment
sufficed;[4.4] a few hours of moderate labor were enough to provide
them. The remaining portion of the time was devoted to day-dreaming
and to the indulgence of passionate love. The latter had, in the minds
of these people, attained to a degree altogether inconceivable by us.
The Jews of that period[4.5] appear to us as if possessed, each one
obeying like a blind machine the idea which had taken possession of him.

The prevailing idea in the Christian community at the time of which
we are treating, and when the apparitions had ceased, was the coming
of the Holy Spirit. They expected to receive Him under the form of a
mysterious breath, which passed over the assembly. Many pretended that
this was the breath of Jesus Himself. Every inward consolation, every
courageous movement, every outburst of enthusiasm, every feeling of
lively and pleasant gaiety, which they experienced without knowing
its origin, was the work of the Spirit. These worthy consciences
referred, as ever, to an outward cause the exquisite feelings which
were springing up in them. It was especially in their assemblies that
these varied phenomena of illumination were produced. When they were
all assembled together and were awaiting in silence the heavenly
inspiration, whatever murmur or noise arose was thought to be the
coming of the Spirit. In the early times, it was the apparitions of
Jesus which were thus produced. Now, there was a change in the course
of their ideas. It was the Divine breath[4.6] which was breathed over
the little church and filled it with heavenly emanations. These beliefs
were strengthened by notions drawn from the Old Testament. The Spirit
of prophecy is represented in the Hebrew books as a breathing which
penetrates and lifts up the subject of it. In the beautiful vision
of Elijah,[4.7] God passes by under the form of a light wind, which
produces a gentle rustling sound. This ancient imagery had handed
down to later epochs systems of belief very similar to those of the
spiritualists of our own time. In the Ascension of Isaiah[4.8] the
coming of the Spirit is accomplished by a certain crashing at the
doors.[4.9] Later on, they always regarded this coming in the light
of another baptism--that is to say, the "baptism of the Spirit,"
far superior to that of John.[4.10] The hallucinations of bodily
touch being very frequent amongst persons so nervous and so excited
as they were, the least current of air, accompanied by a shuddering
in the midst of the silence, was considered as the passage of the
Spirit. One thought that he felt it; very soon all perceived it;[4.11]
and the enthusiasm was communicated from neighbor to neighbor. The
correspondence of these phenomena with those which are found to exist
amongst the visionaries of every age is easily demonstrated. They are
produced daily, partly under the influence of the reading the book of
the Acts of the Apostles, in the English and American sects of Quakers,
Jumpers, Shakers, Irvingites;[4.12] amongst the Mormons,[4.13] and in
the camp meetings and revivals of America;[4.14] we have seen them
reproduced amongst ourselves in the sect called the Spiritualists. But
an immense difference should be observed between aberrations, without
capacity or future results, and the illusions which have accompanied
the establishment of a new code of religion for the human race.

Amongst all these "descents of the Spirit," which appear to have been
by no means infrequent, there was one which left a deep impression on
the nascent Church.[4.15] One day when they were assembled together a
thunder-storm arose. A violent wind burst the windows open--the sky
seemed on fire. Thunder-storms in those countries are accompanied
by wonderful illuminations; the atmosphere is furrowed, as it were,
on every side with garbes of flame. Whether the electric fluid had
penetrated into the very chamber itself, or whether a dazzling flash
of lightning had suddenly illuminated all their faces, they were
convinced that the Spirit had entered, and that he was poured out upon
the head of each one of them under the form of tongues of fire.[4.16]
It was a prevalent opinion in the theurgic schools of Syria that the
communication of the Spirit was produced by a divine fire, and under
the form of a mysterious glimmering.[4.17] It was believed to have been
present at the display of all the wonders of Mount Sinai,[4.18] at a
manifestation analogous to those of former times. The baptism of the
Spirit hence became also a baptism of fire. The baptism of the Spirit
and of fire was opposed to and greatly preferred to that of water, the
only form with which John had been acquainted.[4.19] The baptism of
fire was only produced on rare occasions; only the apostles and the
disciples of the first guest-chamber were supposed to have received it.
But the idea that the Spirit was poured forth upon them under the form
of strokes of flame resembling burning tongues originated a series of
singular ideas, which took firm hold of the imaginations of the period.

The tongue of an inspired man was supposed to have received a sort of
sacrament. It was pretended that many prophets before their mission
had been stammerers;[4.20] that the angel of God had passed a coal
over their lips, which purified them and conferred on them the gift of
eloquence.[4.21] In his prophetic utterances the man was supposed not
to speak at all about himself.[4.22] His tongue was looked upon merely
as the organ of the Divinity who inspired it. These tongues of fire
appeared a very striking symbol. The disciples were convinced that God
desired to make it known that on the apostles also he had conferred
his most precious gifts of eloquence and inspiration. But they did not
stop there; Jerusalem was, like most of the great cities of the East,
a city where many languages were spoken. The diversity of tongues was
one of the difficulties which they there discovered in the way of the
propagation of a universal form of faith. Besides, one of the things
which most alarmed the apostles at their very entry on a ministry
destined to embrace the world, was the number of languages which were
spoken in it; they were constantly inquiring how they could learn so
many dialects. "The gift of tongues" became thenceforth a marvellous
privilege. They believed that the preaching of the gospel would relieve
them from the obstacle which the difference of idioms had raised. They
pretended that, under certain solemn circumstances, those present had
heard, each in his own language, the gospel preached by the apostles;
in other words, that the apostolic promise was delivered to each one
of the hearers.{4.23} At other times, this conception was entertained
in a somewhat different shape. They ascribed to the apostles the gift
of acquiring, by divine illumination, every language spoken, and of
speaking those languages at will.{4.24}

There was in this a liberal conception; they wished it should
have no language peculiar to itself, that it should be capable of
translation into every language, and that the translation should be
of the same standard value as the original. Such was not the opinion
of orthodox Judaism. The Hebrew was "the holy language" to the Jew
of Jerusalem, and no version could be compared to it. Translations
of the Bible were in little esteem; so long as the Hebrew text was
scrupulously guarded in the translations, changes and modifications
of expression were tolerated. The Jews of Egypt and Hellenists of
Palestine, indeed, practised a more tolerant system, and habitually
perused the Greek translations of the Bible.{4.25} But the first plan
of the Christians was even broader; according to their idea, the word
of God has no language peculiar to it; it is free, unfettered by any
idiomatic peculiarity; it is delivered to all spontaneously and without
interpretation. The facility with which Christianity became detached
from the Semitic dialect which Jesus had spoken, the liberty which
it at first accorded to every nation of forming its own liturgy, and
its own versions of the Bible in the vernacular, favored this sort of
emancipation of languages. It was generally admitted that the Messiah
would gather into one, all languages as well as all peoples.[4.26]
Common usage and the promiscuousness of the languages was the first
grand step towards this grand era of universal pacification.

Moreover, the gift of languages very soon underwent a considerable
variation, and resulted in very extraordinary effects. Ecstasy and
prophecy were the fruits of mental excitement. At these moments of
ecstasy, the faithful, possessed by the Spirit, uttered inarticulate
and incoherent sounds, which were mistaken for the words of a foreign
language, and which they innocently attempted to interpret.[4.27] At
other times they supposed that the ecstatically possessed was giving
utterance to new and hitherto unknown languages,[4.28] which were not
even the languages of the angels.[4.29]

These extravagant scenes, which were the fruitful cause of abuse, only
became habitual at a later period;[4.30] but it is probable that they
were produced from the earliest years of Christianity. The visions of
the ancient prophets had often been accompanied by phenomena of nervous
excitement.[4.31] The dithyrambic state amongst the Greeks abounded in
occurrences of the same kind; the Pythia seemed to give a preference
to the use of foreign or obsolete words, which were called, as also
in the apostolic phenomena, glosses.[4.32] Many of the pass-words of
primitive Christianity, which are precisely bi-linguistic, or formed
by anagrams, such as _Abba, Father_, and _Anathema Maranatha_,[4.33]
took their origin perhaps from these fantastic paroxysms, intermingled
with sighs[4.34] from stifled gradus, from ejaculations, prayers, and
sudden transports which were interpreted as prophecies. It was like
some vague harmony of the soul, thrilling in indistinct sounds, and
which the hearers of it desired to transform into determined shapes
and words,[4.35] or rather like spiritual prayers addressed to God
in a language understood by God alone, and which God knows how to
interpret.[4.36] The individual in a state of ecstasy understood,
in fact, nothing of what he uttered, and had no cognizance of it
whatever.[4.37] His eager listeners ascribed to his incoherent
syllables the thoughts which occurred to them at the time. Each
one referred to his own dialect, and artlessly strove to explain
the unintelligible sounds by what little knowledge of languages he
possessed. They were always more or less successful, because the
auditor interpolated within these broken accents the thoughts of
his own breast. The history of fanatical sects is rich in facts of
this description. The preachers of Cévennes displayed many instances
of "glossology,"[4.38] but the most remarkable fact is that of the
"readers" of Sweden,[4.39] about the years 1841-1843. Involuntary
enunciations, devoid of sense in the minds of those who uttered them,
and accompanied by convulsions and fainting-fits, were, for a long time
daily practised by the members of this little sect. This phenomenon
became quite contagious, and a considerable popular movement became
blended with it. Amongst the Irvingites, the phenomenon of tongues is
produced with features which reproduce, in the most remarkable manner,
the most striking of the stories of the "_Acts_" and of St. Paul.[4.40]
Our own age has witnessed fantastic scenes of the same nature, which
need not to be recounted here; for it is always unjust to compare the
credulity of a grand religious movement with the credulity which is
caused only by dulness of intellect.

Now and then these strange phenomena were produced outside. The
extatics, at the very moment when under the influence of their
extravagant fantasies, had the hardihood to go out and display
themselves to the crowd. They were taken for persons who were
intoxicated.[4.41] However sober-minded in point of mysticism, Jesus
had more than once presented in his own person the ordinary phenomena
of the extatic state.[4.42] The disciples, during three or four years,
were possessed with these ideas. The prophesyings were frequent, and
were regarded as a gift analogous to that of tongues.[4.43] Prayer,
mingled with convulsions, with harmonized modulations, with mystic
sighs, with lyrical enthusiasm, with songs of thanksgiving,[4.44] was
a daily exercise among them. A rich vein of "canticles," of "Psalms,"
and of "Hymns," copied from those of the Old Testament was thus
discovered to be open to them.[4.45] Sometimes the lips and the heart
were in mutual accord; sometimes the spirit sang alone, accompanied
by grace in the inner man.[4.46] Any language which did not afford
the new sensations which were being produced, they suffered to become
an indistinct stammering, at once sublime and puerile; or that which
they could denominate "the Christian language" was wafted aloud in
an embryo state. Christianity, not finding in the ancient tongues a
weapon appropriate to its needs, has destroyed them. But whilst the
new religion was forming for itself an idiom of its own, ages of
obscure efforts, and so to speak, of squalling, intervened. What is
the characteristic of the style of St. Paul and, in general, that of
the writers of the New Testament, but the stifled, panting, misshapen
improvisation of the "Glossology?" Language failed them. Like the
prophets, they began with the _a_, _a_, _a_ of the infant.[4.47] They
knew not how to speak. The Greek and the Semitic tongues equally
betrayed them. Thus arose that frightful violence which the new
Christianity inflicted upon language. They would call it a stammering
of the mouth, by which the sounds are stifled and confused, and wind
up with a pantomime confused indeed, but nevertheless wonderfully
expressive.

All this was very far from the intention of Jesus; but to those whose
minds were imbued with a belief in the supernatural, these phenomena
were of the utmost importance. The gift of tongues, in particular, was
considered as an essential sign of the new religion, and, as it were, a
proof of its verity.[4.48] In every case it resulted in great fruits of
edification. Many pagans were in this manner converted.[4.49]

Up to the third century, the "Glossology" manifested itself in a manner
analogous to that which St. Paul describes, and was considered in the
light of a permanent miracle.[4.50] Some of the sublimest words of
Christianity have originated in these incoherent sighings. The general
effect was touching and penetrating. This fashion of joining together
their inspirations and delivering them over to the community for
interpretation was enough to establish amongst the faithful a profound
bond of confraternity. Like all mystics, the new sectaries led lives
of fasting and austerity.[4.51] Like the majority of Orientals, they
ate little, which fact contributed to maintain their excited state.
The sobriety of the Syrian, caused by physical weakness, kept him in
a constant state of fever and nervous susceptibility. Such great and
protracted intellectual efforts as ours are impossible under such a
regimen; but this cerebral and muscular debility is productive, without
apparent cause, of lively alternations of sadness and joy, which bring
the soul into continual communion with God. Thus that which they called
"godly sorrow"[4.52] passed for a heavenly gift. All the teachings of
the Fathers respecting the spiritual life, such as John Chinaticus, as
Basil, as Nilus, as Arsenius--all the secrets of the grand art of the
inward life, one of the most glorious creations of Christianity--were
germinating in that strange state of mind which possessed, in their
months of extatic watchfulness, those illustrious ancestors of all
"the men of longings." Their moral state was strange; they lived
in the supernatural. They acted only on the authority of visions;
dreams and the most insignificant circumstances appeared to them to
be admonitions from Heaven.[4.53] Under the name of gifts of the Holy
Spirit were concealed also the rarest and most exquisite emanations of
the soul--love, piety, respectful fear, objectless sighings, sudden
languor, and spontaneous tenderness. All the good that is engendered
in man, without man having any part in it, was attributed to a
breathing from on high. Tears were often taken for a celestial favor.
This charming gift, the privilege only of very good and pure souls,
was repeated with an infinity of sweetness. We know what influence
delicate natures--above all, women--exercise in the ability to shed
copious tears. It is their style of praying, and assuredly it is the
most holy of prayers. We must come down quite to the Middle Ages,
to that piety watered with tears of St. Bruno, St. Bernard, and St.
Francis of Assisi, in order to discover again the chaste melancholy of
those early days, when they verily sowed in tears that they might reap
with joy. To weep became an act of piety; those who could not preach,
who were ignorant of languages, and unable to work miracles, wept.
Praying, preaching, admonishing they wept;[4.54] it was the advent
of the kingdom of tears. One might have said that their souls were
dissolved, and that they desired, in the absence of a language which
could interpret their sentiments, to display themselves to the world by
a lively and brief expression of their entire inner being.




                               CHAPTER V.

         FIRST CHURCH OF JERUSALEM; ITS CHARACTER CENOBITICAL.


The custom of living in a community professing one identical faith, and
indulging in one and the same expectation, necessarily produced many
habits common to all the society. Very soon rules were enacted, and
established a certain analogy between this primitive church and the
cenobitical establishments with which Christianity became acquainted
at a later period. Many of the precepts of Jesus conduced to this; the
true ideal of the gospel life is a monastery--not a monastery closed
in with iron gratings, a prison of the type of the Middle Ages, with
the separation of the two sexes, but an asylum in the midst of the
world, a place set apart for the spiritual life, a free association or
little confraternity, tracing around it a rampart which may serve to
dispel cares that are hurtful to the kingdom of God. All, then, lived
in common, having only one heart and one mind.[5.1] No one possessed
aught which individually belonged to him. On becoming disciples of
Jesus, they sold their goods and presented to the society the price of
them. The chiefs of the society then distributed the common possessions
according to the needs of each member. They dwelt in one neighborhood
only.[5.2] They took their meals together, and continued to attach to
them the mystic sense which Jesus had ordered.[5.3] Many hours of the
day they spent in prayer. These prayers were sometimes improvised in
a loud voice; oftener they were silent meditations. Their states of
ecstasy were frequent, and each one believed himself to be incessantly
favored with the Divine inspiration. Their harmony was perfect; no
quarrelling about dogmas, no dispute respecting precedence. The tender
recollection of Jesus prevented all dissensions. A lively and deeply
rooted joy pervaded their hearts.[5.4] Their morals were austere, but
marked by a sweet and tender sympathy. They assembled in houses to pray
and abandon themselves to ecstatic exercises.[5.5] The remembrance of
those two or three years rested upon them like that of a terrestrial
paradise, which Christianity would henceforth pursue in all its dreams,
and to which it would endeavor to return in vain. Who, indeed, does not
see that such an organization could only be applicable to a very little
church? But, later on, the monastic life will resume on its own account
this primitive ideal, which the church universal will hardly dream of
realizing.

That the author of the "_Acts_," to whom we owe the picture of this
first Christianity at Jerusalem, has somewhat overcolored it, and in
particular has exaggerated the community of goods which prevailed
there, is quite possible. The author of the "_Acts_" is the same as the
author of the third Gospel, who, in his life of Jesus, is accustomed
to shape his facts according to his own theories,[5.6] and with whom
a tendency to the doctrine of "_ebionism_"[5.7]--that is to say, of
absolute poverty--is very perceptible. Nevertheless, the story of the
"_Acts_" cannot be entirely without foundation. Although even Jesus
would not have given utterance to any of those communistic axioms
which we read of in the third Gospel, certain it is that a renunciation
of the goods of this world and a giving of alms, carried so far as even
the despoiling of self, was entirely conformable to the spirit of his
preaching. The belief that the world is coming to an end has always
been conducive to a cenobitical life and to a distaste for the things
of this world.[5.8] The story of the "_Acts_" is, in other respects,
perfectly conformable to what we know of the origin of other ascetic
religions--of Buddhism, for example. These sorts of religion invariably
commence with the cenobitical life. Their first adepts are a species
of mendicant monks. The laity are only introduced into them at a
more advanced period, and when these religions have conquered entire
societies, or the monastic life could only exist under exceptional
circumstances.[5.9] We admit, then, in the Church of Jerusalem a period
of cenobitical life. Two centuries later, Christianity produced still
on the pagans the effect of a communistic sect.[5.10] We must remember
that the Essenians or Thereapeutians had already produced the model of
this description of life, which sprang very legitimately from Mosaism.
The Mosaic code being essentially moral, and not political, naturally
produced a social Utopia; church, synagogue, and convent--not a civil
régime, nation, or city. Egypt had had, for many centuries, recluses
both male and female supported by the State, probably in fulfilment of
charitable bequests, near the Serapeum of Memphis.[5.11] Above all, it
must be remembered that such a life in the East is by no means such as
it has been in our West. In the East, one can abundantly enjoy nature
and life without possessing anything. Man, in those countries, is
always free because he has few cares; the slavery of labor is there
unknown. We willingly suppose that the communism of the primitive
Church was neither so rigorous nor so universal as the author of the
"_Acts_" would lead us to believe. What is certain about it is, that
it had a large community of poor people at Jerusalem, governed by the
apostles, and to whom donations from all the places where Christianity
existed were sent.[5.12] This community was, doubtless, compelled to
establish rules of a sufficiently rigorous nature, and some years later
it became necessary to keep it in due order, even to employ terror.
Frightful legends were circulated, according to which, the simple fact
of having retained anything besides that which had been presented
to the community, was treated as a capital crime and punished with
death.[5.13]

The porticos of the temple, especially Solomon's porch, which commanded
the valley of Cedron, was the place where the disciples usually
assembled in the day-time.[5.14] There they recalled the remembrance
of those hours which Jesus had passed in the same spot. In the midst
of the immense activity which existed all about the temple, they would
be little remarked. The galleries which formed part of this building
were the seat of numerous schools and sects, and the arena of many a
dispute. The faithful of Jesus would no doubt be taken for devotees
of great precision of manner; for they scrupulously observed all the
Jewish customs, praying at the appointed hours,[5.15] and observing
all the precepts of the law. They were Jews, only differing from the
others in their belief that the Messiah had already come. People who
were not well versed in their concerns (and these were the immense
majority), looked upon them as a sect of Hasidim, or pious people.
By being affiliated with them, they became neither schismatics nor
heretics,[5.16] any more than a man ceases to be a Protestant on
becoming a disciple of Spener, or a Catholic because he is a member
of the order of St. Francis or St. Bruno. They were beloved by the
people on account of their piety, their simplicity, and sweetness
of temper.[5.17] The aristocrats of the temple, no doubt, regarded
them with disfavor. But the sect made little noise; it was quiet and
tranquil, thanks to its obscurity. At eventide, the brethren returned
to their quarters and partook of the meal, divided into groups[5.18]
as a mark of brotherhood and in remembrance of Jesus, whom they always
saw present in the midst of them. The head of the table brake the
bread, blessed the cup,[5.19] and handed them round as a symbol of
union in Jesus. The commonest act of life thus became the most holy
and reverential one. These family repasts, always favorites with the
Jews,[5.20] were accompanied by prayers and pious ejaculations, and
abounded in a pleasant sort of joyfulness. They thought again of the
time when Jesus cheered them by His presence; they fancied that they
saw Him; and soon it was bruited abroad that Jesus had said: "As often
as ye break the bread, do it in remembrance of me."[5.21]

The bread itself became, in a certain manner, Jesus; regarded as the
only source of strength for those who had loved him, and who still
lived by him. These repasts, which were always the principal symbol of
Christianity and the very life of its mysteries,[5.22] were at first
served every night;[5.23] but soon custom restricted them to Sunday
evenings[5.24] only; and later, the mystic repast was transferred to
the morning.[5.25] It is probable that at the period of the history
which we are now treating, the holiday of each week was still, with
the Christians even, the Saturday.[5.26] The apostles chosen by Jesus,
and who were supposed to have received from Him a special command to
announce to the world the kingdom of God, had, in the little community,
an undoubted superiority. One of their first cares, as soon as they
saw the sect quietly settled at Jerusalem, was to fill up the void
which Judas of Kerioth had left in its ranks.[5.27] The opinion that
this Judas had betrayed his Master and became the cause of his death,
became more generally received. The legend was mixed up with him, and
daily they learned some new circumstance which increased the blackness
of his deed. He had bought for himself a field near the old necropolis
of Hakeldama, to the south of Jerusalem, and there he lived a retired
life.[5.28] Such was the artless excitement which pervaded the whole
of the little church, that in order to replace him they had recourse
to the plan of casting lots. In general, in times of great religious
excitement, this method of deciding is preferred, for it is admitted
on principle that nothing is fortuitous, that the matter in hand is
the principal object of the Divine attention, and that the part which
God takes in any matter is greater in proportion to the weakness of
man. The only condition was, that the candidates should be selected
from the number of the older disciples, who had been witnesses of the
entire series of events since the baptism by John. This considerably
reduced the number of those who were eligible. Only two were found in
the ranks, Joseph Bar-Saba, who bore the name of Justus,[5.29] and
Matthias. The lot fell upon Matthias, who from that time was counted
in the number of the Twelve. But this was the only example of such a
replacing. The apostles were considered hitherto as having been named
by Jesus once for all, and as not proposing to have any successors.
The idea of a permanent college, preserving in itself all the life
and strength of association, was judiciously rejected for a time. The
concentration of the Church into an oligarchy did not occur until much
later.

We must guard, moreover, against the misunderstandings which this
appellation of "apostle" may induce, and which it has not failed
to occasion. From a very remote period the idea was formed, by
some passages of the Gospels, and above all by the analogy of the
life of St. Paul, that the apostles were essentially travelling
missionaries, distributing amongst themselves in a certain way the
world in advance, and traversing as conquerors all the kingdoms of
the earth.[5.30] A cycle of legends was invented in respect to this
gift, and imposed upon ecclesiastical history.[5.31] Nothing is more
opposed to the truth.[5.32] The twelve disciples were permanently
settled at Jerusalem; up to the year 60, or thereabouts, they did not
leave the holy city, except on temporary missions. And in this way
is explained the obscurity in which the greater part of the central
council remained; very few of them had any particular duty to perform.
They formed a sort of a sacred college or a senate,[5.33] unequivocally
destined to represent tradition and a conservative spirit. In the
end they were discharged from all active duty, because they had only
to preach and to pray;[5.34] as yet the brilliant feats of preaching
had not fallen to their lot. Scarcely were their names known out
of Jerusalem; and about the year 70 or 80 the catalogues which were
published of these twelve primary elect ones only agreed in the
principal names.[5.35]

The "brothers of the Lord" appear to have been often with the
"apostles," although they were distinguished from them.[5.36] Their
authority was at least equal to that of the apostles. These two groups
constituted, in the nascent Church, a sort of aristocracy, based
entirely upon the greater or less intimacy which they had had with
the Master. It was these men whom St. Paul called "pillars" of the
Church of Jerusalem.[5.37] We see, moreover, that no distinctions of
ecclesiastical hierarchy were yet in existence. The title was nothing;
the personal authority was everything. The principle of ecclesiastical
celibacy was already well established;[5.38] but it required time to
conduct all these germs to their full development. Peter and Philip
were married, and were the fathers of sons and daughters.[5.39]

The term by which the assembly of the faithful was distinguished,
was the Hebrew word _Kahal_, which was rendered by the essentially
democratic word ἐκκλησία, _Ecclesia_, which means the convocation of
the people in the ancient Grecian cities, the summons to assemble at
the Pnyx or the _Agora_. Commencing about the second or third century
before Jesus Christ, Athenian democracy became a sort of common law
wherever the Hellenic language was spoken; many of these terms,[5.40]
on account of their being used in the Greek confraternities, were
introduced into the language of Christianity. It was in reality the
popular life, for centuries kept under restraint, which reasserted its
power under entirely different forms. The primitive Church is, in its
own way, a little democracy. The election by ballot, however--that mode
so cherished by the ancient republics--is only rarely reproduced.[5.41]
Far less harsh and suspicious than the ancient cities, the church
readily delegated its authority; like every theocratic society, it had
a tendency to abdicate its functions into the hands of the clergy, and
it was easy to foresee that one or two centuries would scarcely elapse
before all this democracy would resolve into an oligarchy.

The powers which they ascribed to an assembled Church and to its
chiefs was enormous. All mission was conferred by the Church, which
was entirely guided in its choice by signs given by the spirit.[5.42]
Its authority extended as far as the death penalty. They related how,
at the voice of Peter, guilty persons fell backwards and expired
immediately.[5.43] St. Paul, at a later period, was not afraid, when
excommunicating an incestuous person, "to deliver him to Satan for
the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be saved in the day
of the Lord Jesus.{5.44}" Excommunication was considered equivalent
to a sentence of death. They doubted not that an individual whom
the apostles or chiefs of the Church had cut off from the body of
the saints and delivered over to the power of the Evil One, was
lost.[5.45] Satan was considered to be the author of the diseases; to
deliver to him the infected member was to hand him over to the natural
executioner. A premature death was ordinarily considered as the result
of one of those secret judgments, which, according to the expressive
Hebrew term, "cut off a soul from Israel."[5.46] The apostles believed
themselves to be invested with supernatural powers; while pronouncing
such condemnations, they believed that their anathemas could not fail
to be effectual.

The terrible impression which these excommunications made, and the
hatred of all the brethren towards the members thus cut off, were
powerful enough in fact to produce death in many cases, or at least
to compel the guilty person to expatriate himself. The same frightful
ambiguity was found in the old law. "Extirpation" implied, at once
decease, expulsion from the community, exile, and a solitary and
mysterious death.[5.47] To kill the apostate, or blasphemer, to beat
his body in order to save his soul, would seem quite lawful. It must be
remembered that we are treating of the times of zealots, who considered
it a virtuous act to assassinate any one who failed in obedience to
the law;[5.48] nor must we forget that some of the Christians were,
or had been, zealots.[5.49] Stories like that of the death of Ananias
and Sapphira[5.50] raised no scruples. The idea of the civil power was
so strange to all this world situated outside of the Roman law, they
were so persuaded that the Church was a complete society sufficient
for all its own needs, that nobody regarded the death or mutilation of
an individual as an outrage punishable by the civil law. Enthusiasm
and burning faith covered all, yea, excused all. But the frightful
danger which these theocratic maxims entailed on the future was easily
perceived. The Church is armed with a sword; excommunication will be a
sentence of death. There is henceforth in the world a power above that
of the State which disposes of the lives of citizens. Assuredly if the
Roman power had limited itself to the repression among the Jews and the
Christians of such abominable principles, it would have been a thousand
times in the right. Only in its brutality it confounded the most
legitimate of liberties, that of worshipping according to one's own
conviction, with abuses which no society has ever been able to endure
with impunity.

Peter had a certain primacy amongst the apostles; the result of his
daring zeal and activity.[5.51] In these early times he is scarcely
ever separated from John, the son of Zebedee. They went together almost
always,[5.52] and their perfect concord was doubtless the corner-stone
of the new faith. James, brother of the Lord, was nearly their equal
in authority, at least in one section of the Church. In respect to
certain intimate friends of Jesus, like the women of Galilee and the
family of Bethany, we have already observed that we have no more to do
with them. Less anxious to organize and found a society, the faithful
companions of Jesus were satisfied to love in death Him whom they had
loved when alive. Totally occupied with their waiting, these noble
women, who have established the faith of the world, were almost unknown
to the important men of Jerusalem. When they died, the most important
traits in the history of nascent Christianity were buried in the tomb
with them. The active characters alone became renowned; those who are
content to love secretly remain in obscurity, but assuredly they have
the better part.

It is superfluous to remark that this little group had no speculative
theology. Jesus kept himself far removed from everything metaphysical.
He had only one dogma, His own divine Sonship and the divine authority
of His mission. Every symbol of the primitive Church might be contained
in one line: "Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God." This belief rested
upon a peremptory argument, the fact of the resurrection, of which the
disciples claimed to be witnesses. In reality, no one (not even the
Galilean women) declared that they had seen the resurrection.[5.53] But
the absence of the body and the apparitions which had followed appeared
to be equivalent to the fact itself. To attest the resurrection of
Jesus was the task which all considered as being specially imposed
upon them.[5.54] They quickly entertained the idea that the Master had
predicted this event. They recollected different sayings of His, which
they fancied that they had never thoroughly understood, and in which
they saw too late an announcement of the resurrection.[5.55] Belief
in the next glorious manifestation of Jesus was universal.[5.56] The
secret word which the associated brethren used among themselves for
purposes of mutual recognition and confirmation was _Maranatha_, "The
Lord will come."[5.57] They fancied that they remembered a declaration
of Jesus, according to which their preaching would not have time to
reach to all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man appeared in His
majesty.[5.58] In the meanwhile, Jesus risen is seated at the right
hand of His Father. There He remains until the solemn day on which He
shall come, seated on the clouds, to judge the quick and the dead.[5.59]

The idea which they had of Jesus was the very same which Jesus had
given them of Himself. Jesus had been a mighty prophet in word and in
deed,[5.60] a man elect of God, having received a special mission in
behalf of mankind,[5.61] a mission the truth of which he had proved by
His miracles, and, above all, by His resurrection. God anointed Him
with the Holy Spirit and endued Him with power; He went about doing
good and healing those who were under the power of the devil;[5.62]
for God was with Him.[5.63] He is the Son of God, that is, a man
entirely sent of God, a representative of God on earth; He is the
Messiah, the Saviour of Israel announced by the prophets.[5.64] The
perusal of the books of the Old Testament, above all of the Psalms
and the prophets, was a constant habit of the sect. In these readings
one fixed idea ever accompanied them, and that was to discover, above
all other considerations, the type of Jesus. They were persuaded that
the ancient Hebrew books were full of Him, and, from the very first,
He was moulded into a collection of texts drawn from the prophets
and the Psalms and certain of the apocryphal books, wherein they
were convinced that the life of Jesus was foretold and described in
advance.[5.65] This arbitrary mode of interpretation was, at that
time, that of all the Jewish schools. The Messianic allusions were
a description of witty trifling, analogous to the use which the
ancient preachers made of passages of the Bible, diverted from their
natural meaning, and received as simple ornaments of sacred rhetoric.
Jesus, with His exquisite tact in religious matters, had instituted
no new ritual movement. The new sect had not, as yet, any special
ceremonies.{5.66} Habits of piety were Jewish habits. The assemblies
had nothing precisely liturgic about them; they were the sessions
of confraternities, in which they devoted themselves to prayer, to
glossological or prophetic{5.67} exercises, and to the reading of
correspondence. There was nothing yet of sacerdotalism. There was
no priest (cohen, or ἱερεύς); the _presbyter_ is the "elder" of the
community, nothing more. The only priest is Jesus;{5.68} in another
sense, all the faithful are priests.{5.69} Fasting was considered a
very meritorious usage.{5.70} Baptism was the sign of entrance into
the sect.{5.71} The rite was the same in form as the baptism of John,
but it was administered in the name of Jesus.{5.72} Baptism was always
considered an insufficient initiation into the society. It should be
followed by a conferring of the gifts of the Holy Spirit,{5.73} which
was produced by means of a prayer pronounced over the head of the
neophyte with the imposition of hands.

This imposition of hands, already so familiar to Jesus,{5.74} was
the crowning sacramental act.{5.75} It conferred inspiration, inward
illumination, the power of working wonders, of prophesying and of
speaking languages. This was what they called the baptism of the
Spirit. They believed that they recollected a saying of Jesus: "John
baptized you with water: but as for you, you shall be baptized with
the Spirit."{5.76} Little by little these ideas became confused, and
baptism was conferred "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and
of the Holy Ghost."{5.77} But it is not probable that this formula,
at the early period which we are describing, was as yet employed. The
simplicity of this primitive Christian worship is evident. Neither
Jesus nor the apostles had invented it. Certain Jewish sects had
adopted, before them, grave and solemn ceremonies, which appear to
have come partly from Chaldæa, where they are still practised with
special liturgies, by the Sabæans and Mendäites.{5.78} The Persian
religion contained, likewise, many rites of the same description.{5.79}
The beliefs in popular medicine, which had accompanied the strength
of Jesus, continued to be held by his disciples. The power of healing
was one of the marvellous graces conferred by the Spirit.{5.80} The
first Christians, like all the Jews of the age, regarded diseases
as the punishment due to a fault,{5.81} or the work of a malicious
demon.{5.82} The apostles, as well as Jesus, passed for powerful
exorcists.{5.83} They imagined that anointings with oil, administered
by them, with imposition of hands and invocation of the name of Jesus,
were all-powerful to wash away the sins which were the causes of the
disease, and to cure the sick.{5.84} Oil has always been in the East
the chiefest of medicines.{5.85} Of itself, moreover, the imposition
of hands by the apostles was supposed to have the same effect.{5.86}
This imposition was conferred by immediate contact with the person;
and it is not impossible that, in certain cases, the warmth of the
hands, being sensibly communicated to the head, produced some little
relief to the sick man. The sect being young and few in number, the
question of the dead was only subsequently brought under their notice.
The effect caused by the first deaths which took place in the ranks of
the brotherhood was strange.{5.87} They disquieted themselves about the
condition of the departed; they inquired if they would be less favored
than those who were reserved to see with their eyes the second advent
of the Son of Man. They generally came to the conclusion that the
interval between death and the resurrection was a sort of blank in the
recollection of the defunct.{5.88} The idea, expressed in the _Phædon_
that the soul exists before and after death; that death is a benefit;
that it is even the state above all others favorable to philosophy,
because the soul is then altogether free and disengaged--this idea,
I say, was in no respect entertained by the first Christians. They
appear generally to have believed that man has no existence apart from
his body. This persuasion lasted a long time, and only gave way when
the doctrine of the immortality of the soul, in the sense of the Greek
philosophy, had been received into the Church, and become associated,
for good or for evil, with the Christian dogma of the resurrection
and universal restoration. At the time of which we speak, a belief in
the resurrection prevailed almost alone.{5.89} The funeral rites were
doubtless Jewish. No importance was attached to them; no inscription
pointed out the name of the departed. The great resurrection was at
hand; the body of the faithful had only to sojourn for a very short
time in the rock. They took but little pains to come to an agreement
upon the question whether the resurrection would be universal--that is
to say, whether it would embrace both good and wicked, or would apply
to the elect only.{5.90}

One of the most remarkable phenomena of the new religion was the
reappearance of prophecy. For a long time previous, prophets in Israel
were scarcely mentioned. This peculiar kind of inspiration appeared to
revive in the little sect. The primitive Church had many prophets and
prophetesses,{5.91} answering to those of the Old Testament. Psalmists
reappeared also. The model of the Christian Psalmody is, no doubt, to
be found in the Canticles, which Luke loves to scatter about the pages
of his Gospel,{5.92} and which are imitated from the Canticles of
the Old Testament. These Psalms and prophecies are, in point of form,
destitute of originality; but an admirable spirit of tenderness and
piety animates and pervades them. It is like an attenuated echo of the
later productions of the sacred lyre of Israel. The book of Psalms
was, in some sort, the calyx of the flower from which the Christian
bee stole its first juice. The Pentateuch, on the contrary, was, as it
appears, but little read and less pondered; allegories were substituted
in the form of Jewish _midraschim_, in which all the historical meaning
of the books was suppressed.

The chanting with which they accompanied the new hymns{5.93} was
probably that species of groaning without distinct notes, which is
still the chant of the Greek Church, of the Maronites, and of the
Eastern Christians in general.{5.94} It is not so much a musical
modulation as a manner of forcing the voice, and of emitting through
the nose a sort of groaning, in which all the inflexions follow each
other with rapidity. They performed this extraordinary melopœia
standing, with fixed eye, knit forehead, and contracted eyebrows, using
an appearance of effort. The word _amen_, above all, was uttered in a
tremulous voice with bodily shaking. This word was of great importance
in the liturgy. After the manner of the Jews,{5.95} the new faithful
employed it to mark the assent of the people to the word spoken by
the prophet or precentor.{5.96} They perhaps already attributed to it
concealed virtues, and it was only pronounced with a certain emphasis.
We know not whether the primitive ecclesiastical chant was accompanied
with instruments.{5.97} As to the inward chant, which the faithful
"sang in their hearts,"{5.98} and which was nothing else than the
overflowing of those tender spirits, ardent and dreamy as they were,
they performed it no doubt like the slow chants of the Lollards of
the Middle Ages, in a sort of whisper.{5.99} In general, joyousness
manifested itself in these hymns. One of the maxims of the sages of the
sect was, "If thou art sad, pray; if thou art merry, sing."{5.100}

Moreover, this first Christian literature, designed as it was entirely
for the edification of the assembled brethren, was not committed to
writing. It entered into the mind of none to compose books. Jesus
had spoken; they remembered his words. Had he not promised that that
generation of his hearers should not pass away before he re-appeared
among them?{5.101}




                              CHAPTER VI.

               THE CONVERSION OF THE HELLENISTIC JEWS AND
                              PROSELYTES.


Up to the present time the Church of Jerusalem has practically been
only a little Galilean colony. The friends of Jesus in Jerusalem and
its vicinity, such as Lazarus, Martha and Mary of Bethany, Joseph of
Arimathea and Nicodemus, had disappeared from the scene. Only the
Galilean group gathered around the twelve apostles remained, compact
and active; and meanwhile these zealous apostles were indefatigable
in the work of preaching. Subsequently, after the fall of Jerusalem,
and in places distant from Judea, it was reported that the sermons
of the apostles had been delivered in public places and before large
assemblages.[6.1] The authorities who had put Jesus to death would not
permit the revival of such stories. The proselytism of the faithful
was chiefly carried on by means of pointed conversations, during which
their hearty earnestness was gradually communicated to others.[6.2]
They preached under the portico of Solomon to audiences limited in
number, but on whom they produced a most marked effect; their sermons
consisted chiefly in such quotations from the Old Testament as would
support their theory that Christ was the Messiah.[6.3] Their reasoning,
though subtle, was weak; but the entire exegesis of the Jews at that
time was of the same character, and the deductions drawn from the Bible
by the doctors of the Mischna are no more convincing.

Still more feeble was the proof derived from pretended prodigies, which
they brought forward in support of their arguments. It is impossible
to doubt that the apostles believed that they possessed the power of
performing miracles, which were acknowledged as the tokens of every
Divine mission.[6.4] St. Paul, by far the ablest mind of the primitive
Christian school, believed in miracles.[6.5] It was deemed certain that
Jesus had performed them, and it was but natural to suppose that the
series of Divine manifestations was to continue. Indeed thaumaturgy was
a privilege of the apostles until the end of the first century.[6.6]
The miracles of the apostles were of the same nature as those of Jesus;
and consisted principally, though not exclusively, in the healing of
the sick and the exorcising of demons.[6.7] It was maintained that even
their shadow sufficed to bring about these marvellous cures.[6.8] These
wonders were deemed direct gifts of the Holy Ghost, and held the same
rank as the gifts of learning, of preaching, and of prophecy.[6.9] In
the third century the Church believed herself possessed of the same
privileges, and claimed as a permanent right the power of healing
the sick, of driving out devils, and of predicting the future.[6.10]
The ignorance of the people encouraged these pretensions. Do we not
see in our day persons honest enough, but lacking in scientific
intelligence, similarly deceived by the chimera of magnetism and other
illusions?[6.11]

It is not by these _naïve_ errors, nor by the meagre discourses found
in the _Acts_, that we must form our opinion of the means of conversion
employed by the founders of Christianity. The private conversations of
these good and earnest men, the reflection of the words of Jesus in
their discourses, and above all, their piety and gentleness, formed
the real power of their preaching. Their communistic life also had its
attractions. Their house was like a _hospice_, where all the poor and
forsaken found a refuge and an asylum.

Among the first who attached himself to the young society was a
Cypriote called Joseph Hallevi, or the Levite, who, like many others,
sold his land and laid the money at the feet of the disciples. He was
an intelligent and devoted man, and a facile speaker. The apostles soon
attached him to their band, and called him _Bar-naba_, which means
the "son of prophecy," or "of preaching."[6.12] He was numbered among
the prophets, that is to say, inspired preachers;[6.13] and later we
shall see him playing an important part. After St. Paul, he was the
most active missionary of the first century. A certain Mnason was
converted about the same time.[6.14] Cyprus was marked by many Jewish
characteristics.[6.15] Barnabas and Mnason were undoubtedly of the
Jewish race;[6.16] and the intimate and prolonged relations of Barnabas
with the Church of Jerusalem give us reason to believe that he was
familiar with the Syro-Chaldaic tongue.

A conversion almost equally as important as that of Barnabas, was that
of a certain John, who bore the Roman surname of Marcus. He was cousin
to Barnabas, and was a circumcised Jew.[6.17] His mother, Mary, a
woman in easy circumstances, was also converted, and her residence was
frequently visited by the apostles.[6.18] These two conversions appear
to have been the work of Peter,[6.19] who was very intimate with both
mother and son, and considered himself at home in their house.[6.20]
Admitting the hypothesis that John-Mark was not identical with the
true or supposed author of the second Gospel,[6.21] he yet played a
prominent part, accompanying at a later period Paul and Barnabas, and
probably Peter himself, on their apostolic journeys.

The fire thus kindled spread rapidly. The most celebrated men of the
apostolic age were gained to the cause in two or three years almost
simultaneously. It was a second Christian generation, parallel to that
which had been formed five or six years previously on the shores of
Lake Tiberias. This second generation, not having seen Jesus, could not
equal the first in authority, but surpassed it in activity and in the
ardor for distant missions. One of the best known of these new adepts
was Stephanus or Stephen, who before his conversion was probably only
a simple proselyte.[6.22] He was a man full of fervor and passion,
his faith was very strong, and he was believed to be endowed with
all the gifts of the Spirit.[6.23] Philip, who, like Stephen, was a
zealous deacon and evangelist, joined the community at about the same
time,[6.24] and was often confounded with the apostle of the same
name.[6.25] Finally, at this epoch, Andronicus and Junia[6.26] were
converted. They were probably husband and wife, who, like Aquila and
Priscilla at a later date, were the very model of an apostolic couple,
thoroughly devoted to the missionary cause. They were of Israelitish
blood, and enjoyed the warm friendship of the apostles.[6.27]

Although the new converts were all Jews by religion, when touched by
grace, they belonged to two very different classes of Jews. Some were
"Hebrews,"{6.28} or Jews of Palestine, speaking Hebrew, or rather
_Aramaic_, and reading the Bible in the Hebrew text. The others were
"Hellenists," or Jews speaking Greek, and reading the Bible in that
tongue. These last were further subdivided into two classes--the
one being of Jewish blood; the other proselytes, or people of
non-Israelitish origin, affiliated in different degrees to Judaism.
The Hellenists, who almost all came from Syria, Asia Minor, Egypt, or
Cyrene,[6.29] inhabited a separate quarter of Jerusalem, where they
had their distinctive synagogues, thus forming little communities by
themselves. There were a large number of these private synagogues[6.30]
in Jerusalem, and in them the word of Jesus found a soil prepared for
its reception.

The primitive nucleus of the Church was exclusively composed of
"Hebrews;" and the Aramaic dialect, which was the language of Jesus,
was the only one in use: but during the second or third year after the
death of Jesus, Greek was introduced into the little community, and
soon became the dominant tongue. Through their daily communication
with these new brethren, Peter, John, James, Jude, and the Galilean
disciples in general, learned Greek very easily, especially as they
probably knew something of it beforehand. An incident soon to be
mentioned shows that this diversity of language created at first some
division in the community, and that the two fractions could not always
readily agree.[6.31] After the ruin of Jerusalem, we shall see the
"Hebrews" retire beyond the Jordan, to the heights of Lake Tiberias,
and form a separate Church, which had its individual history. But
in the meantime it does not appear that the diversity of language
seriously affected the Church. The Orientals learn new languages very
easily, and in the towns every one speaks two or three dialects. It is
probable that the leading Galilean apostles acquired the use of the
Greek{6.32} so far that they used it in preference to the Syro-Chaldaic
whenever the majority of their listeners understood it. It was evident
that the dialect of Palestine must be abandoned by those who dreamed of
a wide-spread propaganda. A provincial _patois_ which was written with
difficulty[6.33] and only in use in Syria, was palpably insufficient
for such an undertaking. Greek, on the contrary, was almost a necessity
to Christianity. It was the universal language of the age, at least
around the eastern basin of the Mediterranean; and it was especially
the language of the Jews dispersed throughout the Roman empire. Then,
as now, the Jews adopted with facility the idioms of the countries
they inhabited. They were by no means purists, and this explains
why the Greek used by the primitive Christians was so corrupt. Even
the best educated Jews pronounced the classic language badly.[6.34]
Their phraseology was always founded on the Syriac. They never freed
themselves from the effect of the corrupt dialects, which dated from
the Macedonian conquests.[6.35]

The conversions to Christianity soon became much more numerous among
the "Hellenists" than among the "Hebrews." The old Jews of Jerusalem
found little attraction in a provincial sect but poorly versed in the
only science appreciated by a Pharisee--the science of the law.{6.36}
The relations of the little Church towards Judaism, like Jesus himself,
were rather equivocal. But every religious or political party has an
innate force which rules it, and, despite of itself, compels it to
travel in its orbit. The first Christians, however great their apparent
respect for Judaism, were, in reality, only Jews by their birth or by
their outward customs. The true spirit of the sect had disappeared.
The Talmud germinated in official Judaism, and Christianity had no
affinity with the Talmud school. This is why Christianity found special
favor among those nominal adherents of Judaism who were the least
Jewish. Rigid orthodoxy did not incline towards the Christian sect;
and it was the new-comers, people scarcely catechized, who had not
been to the great schools, and were ignorant of the holy language,
who lent a willing ear to the apostles and their disciples. Viewed
rather contemptuously by the aristocracy of Jerusalem, these _parvenus_
of Judaism were not without their revenge. Young and newly formed
parties always have less respect for tradition than older members of
communities, and are more susceptible to the charms of novelty.

These classes, little subjected to the doctors of the law, were also
it seems the most credulous. Credulity is not a characteristic of the
Talmudic Jew. The credulous Jew, fond of the marvellous, was not the
Jew of Jerusalem, but the Hellenist Jew; who was at the same time very
religious and very ignorant, and consequently very superstitious.
Neither the half incredulous Sadducee, nor the rigorous Pharisee, would
be much affected by the theories popular in the apostolic circle.
But the Judæus Apella, of whom the epicurean Horace wrote,[6.37] was
ready to give in his adhesion. Social questions, besides, particularly
interested those who received no benefit from the opulence enjoyed by
Jerusalem as the locality of the temple and other central institutions
of the nation; and it was by a recognition of the needs to which in
this day modern socialism seeks to respond, that the new sect laid the
solid foundation of its mighty future.




                              CHAPTER VII.

            THE CHURCH CONSIDERED AS AN ASSOCIATION OF POOR
          PEOPLE.--INSTITUTION OF THE DIACONATE.--DEACONESSES
                              AND WIDOWS.


A comparison of the history of religion shows, as a general truth,
that all those religions not contemporary with the origin of language
itself, owe their establishment to social rather than theological
causes. This was assuredly the case with Buddhism, the prodigious
success of which may be traced to its social element, rather than
to the nihilistic principle on which it was based. It was in
proclaiming the abolition of castes, and establishing, in his words,
"a law of grace for all," that Sakya-Mouni and his disciples gained
the adherence, first of India, and then of the largest portion of
Asia.[7.1] Like Christianity, Buddhism was a movement of the lower
classes. Its great attraction was the facility it afforded the poor to
elevate themselves by the profession of a religion which improved their
condition and offered them inexhaustible assistance and sympathy.

The poor were a numerous class in Judea during the first century.
The country was naturally scantily provided with luxuries. In these
countries where industry is almost unknown, almost every fortune
owes its origin either to richly endowed religious institutions or
government patronage. The riches of the temple were for a long time
the exclusive appanage of a limited number of nobles. The Asmoneans
gathered around their dynasty a circle of rich families; and the Herods
considerably increased the welfare and luxury of a certain class of
society. But the real theocratic Jew, turning his back upon Roman
civilization, only became poorer. He belonged to a class of holy men,
fanatically pious, rigidly observant of the law, and miserably and
abjectly poor. From this class, the sects of enthusiasts so numerous
at this period, received their recruits. The universal dream of
these people shadowed forth the triumph of the poor Jew who remained
faithful, and the humiliation of the rich, who were considered as
renegades and traitors, because of their civilization and different
mode of life. Intense indeed was the hatred entertained by these poor
fanatics against the splendid edifices which now began to adorn the
country, and against the public works of the Romans.[7.2] Obliged as
they were to toil for their daily bread on these structures, which to
them seemed monuments of pride and forbidden luxury, they considered
themselves the victims of men who were rich, wicked, corrupt, and
infidels to the Divine Law.

In such a social state an association for mutual benefit would
naturally receive a warm welcome. The little Christian Church appeared
to be a paradise. This family of simple and united brethren attracted
people from every quarter, who in return for that which they brought
secured a settled future, the society of congenial friends, and
precious spiritual hopes. The general custom of converts[7.3] was to
convert into specie their property, which usually consisted of little
farms but scantily productive. To unmarried people in particular the
exchange of their plots of land for shares in a society which would
secure them a place in the Heavenly Kingdom, could not be otherwise
than advantageous. Several married persons did likewise. Care was
taken that the new associates should contribute their entire effects
to the common fund without retaining any portion for private use.[7.4]
Indeed, as each one received from the common treasury in proportion
to his needs,{7.5} and not in proportion to his contributions, every
reservation of property was a fraud on the community. Such attempts
at organization show a surprising resemblance to certain Utopian
experiments made recently; but with the important difference that
Christian communism rested on a religious basis, which is not the
case with modern socialism. It is evident that an association whose
dividends were declared not in proportion to the capital subscribed,
but in proportion to individual needs, must rest only upon a sentiment
of exalted self-abnegation and an ardent faith in a religious ideal.

Under such a social constitution, however, and despite of the high
degree of fraternity, the administrative difficulties were necessarily
numerous. The difference of language between the two factions of the
community inevitably led to misapprehensions. The Jews of higher
birth could not restrain a feeling of contempt for their more humble
brethren in the faith, and soon expressed their dissatisfaction.
"The Hellenists," whose numbers daily increased, complained that
their widows received less at the distributions than those of the
"Hebrews."[7.6] Until this time the apostles had attended to the
financial affairs of the community; but, feeling now the necessity of
delegating to others this part of their authority, they proposed to
confide the administrative duties to seven experienced and leading
men. The proposition was accepted, and at the election, Stephanus or
Stephen, Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicholas,
were chosen. This last was a simple proselyte from Antioch, and
Stephen, perhaps, was the same.[7.7] It seems that, in opposition
to the course followed in the election of the Apostle Matthew, the
choice of the seven administrators was not made from a group of
primitive disciples, but from the new converts, and especially from
the Hellenists. The names of all of them, indeed, were purely Greek.
Stephen was the leading spirit of the seven, who, in accordance with
the established rite, were formally presented to the apostles, and
confirmed by them in the ceremony of laying on of hands.

The administrators thus designated received the Syriac name of
_Schammaschin_, and were also sometimes called "the seven," in the
same manner that the apostles were called "the twelve."[7.8] Such
was the origin of the Diaconate, the most ancient of sacred and
ecclesiastical orders. In imitation of the church of Jerusalem, all
the other churches introduced the Diaconate, and the institution
spread with marvellous rapidity. This institution, indeed, elevated
the care of the poor to an equality with religious services. It was a
proclamation of the truth that social questions should be the first
to occupy the attention of man. It was the introduction of political
economy into religious affairs. The deacons were the best preachers
of Christianity, and we shall soon see how they played their part as
evangelists. As organizers, financial directors, and administrators,
they had a still more important part. These practical men in perpetual
contact with the poor, the rich, and the women, visited everywhere,
observed everything, and by their exhortations were the most efficient
agents of conversion.[7.9] They did much more than the apostles who
remained stationary at the central point of authority in Jerusalem; and
to them we are indebted for the most prominent and solid features of
Christianity.

From a very early period women were admitted to this employment;[7.10]
and, as in these days, they were called "sisters."[7.11] At first
they were widows;[7.12] but later, virgins were preferred for this
office.[7.13] Admirable tact was shown by the Church in this movement.
These good and simple men, with that profound science which comes from
the heart, laid the basis of that grand system of charity which is
the peculiar merit of Christianity. They had no precedent for such an
institution. A vast system of benevolence and of reciprocal aid, to
which the two sexes brought their diverse qualities, and lent their
united efforts for the relief of human misery, was the holy creation
which resulted from the travail of these two or three first years--the
most prolific years in the history of Christianity. It is certain
that the vital thoughts of Jesus filled the souls of His disciples
and directed all their acts. Justice, indeed, demands that to Jesus
should be referred the honor of all the great deeds of His apostles.
It is probable that during His life He laid the foundations of those
establishments which were successfully developed so soon after His
death.

Women, naturally, were attracted towards a community where the weak
were so cordially protected. Their position in society had previously
been humble and precarious; widows, particularly, notwithstanding
several protecting laws, were but little respected,[7.14] and often
even abandoned to misery. Many of the doctors were opposed to giving
them any religious education.[7.15] The Talmud placed along with the
other pests of mankind, the gossiping and inquisitive widow, who spent
her days in chatting with her neighbors, and the maiden who wasted her
time in incessant praying.[7.16] The new religion offered to these
poor and neglected souls a sure and honorable asylum.[7.17] Several
women occupied a prominent place in the Church, and their houses
served as places of meeting;[7.18] while those who had no houses were
formed into a species of feminine presbyteral body,{7.19} comprising
probably the virgins, who did important duty in charitable works. Those
institutions, regarded as the fruit of a later Christianity, such as
congregations of women, nuns, and sisters of charity, were really one
of its first creations, the beginning of its influence, and the most
perfect expression of its spirit. The admirable idea of consecrating
by a sort of religious character and subjecting to regular discipline
those women who were not in the bonds of marriage, is peculiarly and
entirely Christian. The word "widow" became a synonyme for a person
devoted to religious works, consecrated to God, and, consequently,
a "deaconess."[7.20] In those countries, where the wife at her
twenty-fourth year already began to fade, and where there was no middle
state between the child and the old woman, it was practically a new
life which was thus opened for that portion of the human race the most
capable of devotion.

The times of the Seleucidæ had been a terrible epoch for female
depravity. Never before were known so many domestic dramas, and
such a series of poisonings and adulteries. The wise men of that
day considered woman as a scourge to humanity; as the first cause
of baseness and shame; as an evil genius whose only part in life
was to impair whatever there was of good in the opposite sex.{7.21}
Christianity changed all this. At that age which, to our view, is yet
youth, but at which the existence of the Oriental woman is so gloomy,
so fatally prone to evil suggestions, the widow could, by covering her
head with a black shawl,{7.22} become a respectable person worthily
employed, and, as a deaconess, the equal of the most esteemed men in
the community. The difficult and dubious position of the childless
widow, Christianity elevated even to sanctity.{7.23} The widow became
almost the equal of the maiden. She was καλογρια, "beautiful old
age,"{7.24} venerated and useful, and receiving the respect usually
awarded to a mother. These women, constantly going to and fro,{7.25}
were the most useful missionaries of the new religion. Protestants are
in error in viewing these facts through the light of the system of
modern individuality. Socialism and cenobitism are primitive features
of Christianity.

The bishop and priest of later days did not yet exist; but that
intimate familiarity of souls not bound by ties of blood, known as the
pastoral ministry, was already founded. This was always the special
gift of Jesus; and, as it were, a heritage from Him. Jesus had often
said that He was more than father and mother, and that those who
followed Him must forsake those beloved beings. Christianity placed
some things above the family. It created a fraternity and spiritual
marriages. The ancient system of marriages, which without restriction
placed the wife in the power of the husband, was mere slavery. The
moral liberty of woman began when the Church gave her in Jesus a friend
and a guide, who advised and consoled her, always listened to her
grievances, and sometimes advised resistance. Women need a governing
power, and are only happy when governed; but it is necessary that
they should love the one who wields that power. This is what neither
ancient society, Judaism, nor Islamism, were able to do. Woman never
had a religious conscience, a moral individuality, or an opinion of her
own, previous to Christianity. Thanks to the Bishops and to monastic
life, Radegonda found means for escaping from the arms of a barbarous
husband. The life of the soul being all that is really of importance,
it is just and reasonable that the pastor who would make the divine
chords of the heart vibrate, the secret counsellor who holds the key of
the conscience, should be more than a father, more than a husband.

In one sense Christianity was a reaction against the too narrow
domestic system of the Aramaic race. The old Aramaic societies only
admitted married men, and were singularly strict in their views of the
marriage relation. All this was something analogous to the English
family--a narrow, closed up, contracted circle--an egotism of several,
as withering to the soul as the egotism of an individual. Christianity,
with its divine idea of the liberty of God, corrected these
exaggerations. And first it allotted to every one the duties common to
mankind. It saw that the family relation was not of sole importance
in life, or at least that the duty of reproducing the human race did
not devolve on every one; and that there should be persons freed from
these duties, which are undoubtedly sacred, but not intended for every
one. The same exceptions made in favor of the _hetairæ_ like Aspasia by
Greek society, and of the _cortigiana_ like Imperia, in recognition of
the necessities of polished society, Christianity made for the priest
and the deaconess for the public welfare. It admitted different classes
in society. There are people who find it more delightful to be loved by
a hundred people than by five or six; and for these the family in its
ordinary conditions seems insufficient, cold, and wearisome. Why, then,
should we extend to all, the exigencies of our dull and mediocre social
system? His temporal family is not sufficient for man; he feels the
need of brothers and sisters besides those of the flesh.

By its hierarchy of different social functions,{7.26} the primitive Church
seemed to conciliate for the time these opposing exigencies. We shall
never understand, never comprehend, how happy these people were under
these holy regulations which sustained liberty without restraining
it, and permitted at the same time the advantages of communistic
and private life. It was far different from the confusion of our
artificial societies, in which the sensitive soul so often finds it
cruelly isolated. In these little refuges which they call churches,
the social atmosphere was sweet and inviting; the member lived there
in the same faith and actuated by the same hopes. But it is clear
that these conditions could not apply to a very large society. When
entire countries became Christianized, the system of the first churches
became a Utopian idea only partially realized in monasteries, and the
monastic life in this sense was the continuation of the primitive
churches.{7.27} The convent is the necessary consequence of the
Christian spirit; there is no perfect Christianity without the convent,
because it is only there that the evangelical idea can be realized.

A large share of the credit, certainly, of these great creations should
be given to Judaism. Each one of the Jewish communities scattered
along the shores of the Mediterranean was already a sort of church,
with its charitable treasury. Almsgiving, always recommended by the
elders,[7.28] was a recognised precept; it was practised in the temple
and in the synagogues,{7.29} and it was deemed the first duty of
the proselyte.{7.30} In every age Judaism was noted for its careful
attention to the poor, and the fraternal charity which it inspired.

It would be highly unjust to hold up Christianity as a reproach to
Judaism, since to the latter primitive Christianity owes almost
everything. It is when we look upon the Roman world that we are the
most astonished at the miracles of charity performed by the Church.
Never did a profane society, recognising only right for its basis,
produce such admirable effects. The law of every profane, or, if I may
say so, every philosophic system of society, is liberty, sometimes
equality, but never fraternity. To charity, viewed as a right, it
acknowledges no obligations; it only pays attention to individuals;
it finds charity often inconvenient, and neglects it. Every attempt
to apply the public funds to the aid of the poor savors of communism.
When a man dies of hunger, when entire classes languish in misery, the
policy of the profane social system limits itself to acknowledging
that the fact is unfortunate. It can easily show that there is no
civil order without liberty; now, as a consequence of liberty, he
who has nothing, and can get nothing, perishes from hunger. That is
indeed logical; but there is no guard against the abuse of logic. The
necessities of the most numerous class always result in dispensing with
it. Institutions purely political and civil are not enough; social
and religious aspirations claim a religious satisfaction. The glory
of the Jewish people is, that they boldly proclaimed this principle.
The Jewish law is social, and not political; the prophets, the authors
of the Apocalypses, were the promoters of social and political
revolutions. In the first half of the first century, in the presence
of profane civilization, the absorbing idea of the Jews was to repel
the benefits of the Roman system, with its philosophy, democracy, and
equality, and to proclaim the excellence of their theocratic law. "The
law is happiness," was the idea of such Jewish thinkers as Philon and
Josephus. The laws of other people were intended to secure justice,
and had nothing to do with the goodness and happiness of man; while
on the other hand, the Jewish law descended to the details of moral
education. Christianity is only the development of this idea. Each
church is a monastery where all possess rights over all the others;
where there should be neither poor nor wicked; and where, consequently,
every individual is careful to guard and restrain himself. Primitive
Christianity may be defined as a vast association of poor people; as
a heroic struggle against egotism, founded upon the idea that no one
has a right to more than is absolutely necessary for him, and that all
the superfluity belongs to those who possess nothing. It will at once
be seen that with such a spirit and the Roman spirit war to the death
must ensue; and that Christianity, on its part, can never dominate the
world without important modifications of its native tendencies and its
original programme.

But the needs which it represents will always last. The communistic
life during the second half of the Middle Ages, serving for the abuses
of an intolerant Church, the monastery having become a mere feudal
fief, or the barracks for a dangerous and fanatic military modern
feeling, became bitterly opposed to the cenobitic system. We have
forgotten that it was in the communistic life that the soul of man
experienced its fullest joy. The song, "Oh, how good and joyful a thing
it is for brethren to dwell together in unity,"{7.31} has ceased to be
our refrain. But when modern individualism shall have borne its latest
fruits, when humanity, shrunken and saddened, shall also have become
weak and impotent, it will return to these great institutions and
stern disciplines; when our material society--I should say our world
of pigmies--shall have been scourged with whips by the heroic and the
idealistic, then the communistic system will regain all its force. Many
great things, such as science, will be organized under a monastic form.
Egotism, the essential law of civil law, of civil society, will be
insufficient for great minds; all coming, from whatever point of view,
will be opposed to vulgarity. The words of Jesus and the ideas of the
Middle Ages in regard to poverty will again be appreciated. It will
be understood that the possession of anything implies an inferiority,
and that the founders of the mystic life disputed for centuries as to
whether Jesus owned even that which he used for his daily wants. The
Franciscan subtleties will become again great social problems. The
splendid ideal devised by the author of the _Acts_ will be inscribed as
a prophetic revelation at the gates of the paradise of humanity: "And
the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and one soul;
neither said of them that aught of the things which he possessed was
his own, but they had all things in common, neither was any among them
that lacked: for as many as were possessors of land or houses sold
them, and brought the price of the things that were sold, and laid them
down at the apostles' feet, and distribution was made unto every man,
according as he had need. And they continuing with one accord in the
temple and breaking bread from house to house, did eat their meat with
gladness and singleness of heart."{7.32}

Let us not anticipate events. It is now about the year 36. Tiberius
at Caprea could have no more doubt that a formidable enemy to the
empire was growing up. In two or three years the new sect had made
surprising progress; now counted several thousands of adherents.{7.33}
It was easy to foresee that its conquests would be chiefly among the
Hellenists and proselytes. The Galilean group, which had heard the
Master, though preserving its precedence, seemed almost lost in the
current of new-comers who spoke Greek. At the time of which we speak,
no heathen, that is to say, no man who had not held previous relations
with Judaism, had entered into the Church; but proselytes{7.34}
performed important functions in it. The jurisdiction of the disciples
had also largely extended, and was no longer simply a little college of
Palestineans, but included people of Cyprus, Antioch, and Cyrene,{7.35}
and of almost all the points on the eastern shore of the Mediterranean
where Jewish colonies had been established. Egypt alone knew nothing of
the primitive Church, and for a long time remained ignorant. The Jews
of that country were almost in a state of schism with those of Judea.
They had customs of their own, superior in many points to those of
Palestine, and were almost entirely unaffected by the great religious
movement at Jerusalem.




                             CHAPTER VIII.

           FIRST PERSECUTION.--DEATH OF STEPHEN.--DESTRUCTION
                   OF THE FIRST CHURCH OF JERUSALEM.


It was inevitable that the preachings of the new sect, even while they
were disseminated with much reserve, should revive the animosities
which had accumulated against its Founder, and had ultimately resulted
in His death. The Sadducee family of Hanan, which had caused the death
of Jesus, was still reigning. Joseph Caiaphas occupied, up to the year
36, the sovereign Pontificate, the effective power of which he left to
his father-in-law Hanan, and to his relations, John and Alexander.[8.1]
These arrogant and pitiless personages saw with impatience a troop of
good holy men, without any official position, gaining the favor of
the crowd.[8.2] Once or twice Peter, John, and the principal members
of the apostolical college, were thrust into prison and condemned to
be beaten. This was the punishment inflicted on heretics.[8.3] The
authorization of the Romans was not necessary for its infliction. As
may well be supposed, these brutalities did but excite the ardor of
the apostles. They came forth from the Sanhedrim, where they had just
undergone flagellation, full of joy at having been deemed worthy to
undergo contumely for Him whom they loved.[8.4] Eternal puerility of
penal repressions, applied to things of the soul! They passed, no
doubt, for men of order, for models of prudence and wisdom, these
blunderers, who seriously believed in the year 36 they could put down
Christianity with a few whippings!

These outrages were perpetrated principally by the Sadducees,[8.5] that
is to say by the upper clergy, who surrounded the temple, and derived
thence immense profits.[8.6] It does not seem that the Pharisees
displayed towards the sect the animosity they showed to Jesus. The new
believers were people pious and strict in their manner of life, not a
little like the Pharisees themselves. The rage which the latter felt
against the Founder sprang from the superiority of Jesus--a superiority
which He took no pains to disguise. His delicate sarcasms, His
intellect, the charm there was about Him, His hatred to hypocrites, had
enkindled a savage ire. The apostles, on the contrary, were destitute
of wit; they never employed irony. The Pharisees were at certain
moments favorable to them; many Pharisees even became Christians.[8.7]
The terrible anathemas of Jesus against Pharisaism had not yet been
written, and tradition of the words of the Master was neither general
nor uniform.[8.8]

These first Christians were, moreover, people so inoffensive, that
many persons of the Jewish aristocracy, without exactly forming part
of the sect, were well disposed towards them. Nicodemus and Joseph of
Arimathea, who had known Jesus, remained, no doubt, linked in bonds of
brotherhood with the Church. The most celebrated Jewish Doctor of the
times, Rabbi Gamaliel the Elder, grandson of Hillel, a man of broad and
very tolerant ideas, gave his opinion, it is said, in the Sanhedrim
in favor of the freedom of Gospel preaching.[8.9] The author of _The
Acts_ puts into his mouth some excellent reasoning, which ought to
be the rule of conduct for Governments whenever they find themselves
confronted with novelties in the intellectual or moral order. "If this
work is frivolous, leave it alone, it will fall of itself; if it is
serious, how dare you resist the work of God? In any case you will not
succeed in stopping it." Gamaliel was but little heeded. Liberal minds
in the midst of opposing fanaticisms have no chance of success.

A terrible excitement was provoked by the Deacon Stephen.[8.10] His
preaching had, as it seems, great success. The crowd flocked around
him, and these gatherings resulted in some lively disputes. It was
mostly Hellenists, or proselytes, attendants at the synagogue of the
_Libertini_,[8.11] as it was called--people of Cyrene, of Alexandria,
of Cilicia, of Ephesus, who were active in these disputes. Stephen
passionately maintained that Jesus was the Messiah; that the priests
had committed a crime in putting him to death; that the Jews were
rebels, sons of rebels, people that denied evidence. The authorities
resolved to destroy this audacious preacher; witnesses were suborned
to watch for some word in his discourses against Moses. Naturally they
found what they sought for. Stephen was arrested and taken before the
Sanhedrim. The word with which he was reproached was nearly the same
as that which led to the condemnation of Jesus.[8.12] He was accused
of saying that Jesus of Nazareth would destroy the temple, and change
the traditions attributed to Moses. It is very possible, in fact, that
Stephen had used such language. A Christian of this epoch would not
have had any idea of speaking directly against the law, since all still
observed it; but as to traditions, Stephen might combat them as Jesus
himself had done. Now these traditions were foolishly ascribed to Moses
by the orthodox, and an equal value was attributed to them as to the
written law.[8.13]

Stephen defended himself by expounding the Christian thesis, with
copious citations from the law, from the Psalms, from the prophets,
and terminated by reproaching the members of the Sanhedrim with the
homicide of Jesus. "O blockheads! and uncircumcised in heart," said he
to them, "you will then ever resist the Holy Ghost, as your fathers
also have done. Which of the prophets have not your fathers persecuted?
They have slain those who announced the coming of the Just One, whom
you have betrayed, and of whom you have been the murderers. This law
that you had received from the mouth of angels[8.14] you have not
kept." At these words a cry of rage interrupted him. Stephen, becoming
more and more exalted, fell into one of those paroxysms of enthusiasm
that are called the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. His eyes were fixed
on high; he saw the glory of God and Jesus beside his Father, and cried
out: "Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man sitting on
the right hand of God." All the listeners stopped their ears and threw
themselves upon him, gnashing their teeth. They dragged him outside the
city and stoned him. The witnesses who, according to the law,[8.15]
had to cast the first stones, took off their garments and laid them at
the feet of a young fanatic named Saul, or Paul, who was thinking with
secret joy of the merits which he was acquiring in participating in the
death of a blasphemer.[8.16]

In all this there was a literal observance of the prescriptions
of Deuteronomy, Chap. 13. But looked at from the point of view of
the civil law, this tumultuous execution, accomplished without the
concurrence of the Romans, was not regular.[8.17] In the case of Jesus,
we have seen that the ratification of the Procurator was needed.
Perhaps his ratification was obtained in Stephens' case, and his
execution may not have followed quite so closely upon his sentence
as the narrator of the Acts would have it. Possibly, however, the
Roman authority was then somewhat relaxed in Judea. Pilate had just
been suspended from his functions, or was on the point of being so.
The cause of this disgrace was simply the too great firmness he had
shown in his administration.{8.18} Jewish fanaticism had rendered life
unbearable to him. Very likely he was tired of refusing these madmen
the violence they demanded of him, and the proud family of Hanan had
come to have no longer any need of permission in order to pronounce
sentence of death. Lucius Vitellius (the father of him who was emperor)
was then imperial legate of Syria. He sought to win the good graces of
the population; and he had the pontifical vestments which, since the
time of Herod the Great, had been deposited in the town of Antonia,
returned to the Jews.[8.19] Far from sustaining Pilate in his acts of
rigor, he gave ear to the complaints of the native citizens, and sent
Pilate back to Rome to reply to the accusations of his subordinates
(beginning of the year 36). The principal grievance of the latter was
that the Procurator would not lend himself with sufficient complaisance
to their desires--intolerant desires.[8.20] Vitellius replaced him
provisionally by his friend Marcellus, who was no doubt more careful
not to displease the Jews, and consequently more ready to indulge them
with religious murders. The death of Tiberius (16th March in the year
37) only encouraged Vitellius in his policy. The two first years of
the reign of Caligula were an epoch of general enfeeblement of the
Roman authority in Syria. The policy of this prince, before he lost
his wife, was to restore to the people of the East their autonomy and
native chiefs. Thus he established the kingdoms or principalities of
Antiochus, of Comagene, of Herod Agrippa, of Soheym, of Cotys, of
Polemon II., and allowed that of Hâreth to aggrandize itself.[8.21]
When Pilate arrived at Rome, he found the new reign already begun. It
is probable that Caligula decided against him, since he confided the
government of Jerusalem to a new functionary, Marcellus, who appears
not to have excited on the part of the Jews the violent recriminations
which overwhelmed the unfortunate Pilate with embarrassment and filled
him with chagrin.{8.22}

At any rate, the important remark is this: that at the epoch of which
we are treating the persecutors of Christianity were not Romans;
they were orthodox Jews. The Romans preserved, in the midst of this
fanaticism, a principle of tolerance and of reason. If there is
anything for which the imperial authority is to be reproached, it is
for having been too weak, and not having cut short at the outset the
civil consequences of a sanguinary law pronouncing the pain of death
for religious offences. But the Roman domination had not yet become a
complete power, as it was at a later day; it was a sort of protectorate
or suzerainty. Its complaisance was carried even to the extent of
withholding the effigy of the Emperor from the coins struck under the
procurators, in order not to shock Jewish ideas.[8.23] Rome did not
yet seek, at least not in the East, to impose on conquered peoples her
laws, her gods, her manners; she left them in their local practices
outside the Roman law. Their semi-independence was but another sign of
their inferiority. The Imperial power in the East at this epoch pretty
closely resembled the Turkish authority, and the government of the
native populations that of the Rajahs. The idea of equal rights and
equal guarantees for all did not exist. Each provincial group had its
own jurisdiction, as at this day the various Christian churches and the
Jews in the Ottoman Empire. A few years ago, in Turkey, the patriarchs
of the various communities of Rajahs, provided they were on good terms
with the Porte, were sovereign in regard to their subordinates, and
could pronounce against them the most cruel punishments.

As the period of the death of Stephen may fluctuate between the years
36, 37, and 38, we do not know whether Caiphas ought to bear the
responsibility of it. Caiphas was deposed by Lucius Vitellius in the
year 36, shortly after Pilate;[8.24] but the change was slight. He was
succeeded by his brother-in-law, Jonathan, son of Hanan. The latter in
his turn was succeeded by his brother Theophilus, son of Hanan,[8.25]
who kept the Pontificate in the house of Hanan till the year 42. Hanan
was still alive, and possessor of the real power maintained in his
family--the principles of pride, of severity, of hatred to innovators,
which were in a manner hereditary in it.

The death of Stephen produced a great impression. The converts
solemnized his funeral in the midst of tears and groans.[8.26] The
separation between the new sectaries and Judaism was not yet absolute.
The proselytes and the Hellenists, less strict in the matter of
orthodoxy than the pure Jews, felt that they ought to render public
homage to a man who had been an honor to their body, and whose peculiar
opinions had not shut him out from the pale of the law.

Thus dawned the era of Christian martyrs. Martyrdom was not a thing
entirely new. To say nothing of John Baptist and of Jesus, Judaism,
at the epoch of Antiochus Epiphanus, had had its witnesses faithful
unto the death. But the series of brave victims which opens with St.
Stephen has exercised a peculiar influence upon the history of the
human mind. It introduced into the western world an element which was
wanting to it, absolute and exclusive Faith--this idea, that there is
but one good and true religion. In this sense, the martyrs began the
era of intolerance. It may be said, with great probability, that any
one who gives his life for his faith would be intolerant if he were
master. Christianity, after it had passed through three centuries of
persecutions and became in its turn dominant, was more persecuting than
any religion had ever been. When we have poured out our own blood for a
cause, we are but too strongly led to shed the blood of others for the
conservation of the treasure we have won.

The murder of Stephen was not, moreover, an isolated fact. Taking
advantage of the weakness of the Roman functionaries, the Jews brought
a real persecution[8.27] to bear down upon the Church. It seems that
the vexations pressed hardest upon the Hellenists and the proselytes
whose free tendencies enraged the orthodox. The Church of Jerusalem,
already so strongly organized, was obliged to disperse. The apostles,
according to a principle which seems to have taken strong hold of their
minds,[8.28] did not leave the city. It was probably so with all the
purely Jewish group, with those who were called the "Hebrews."[8.29]
But the great community, with its meals in common, its diaconal
services, its varied exercises, ceased thenceforth, and was never
again reconstructed upon its first model. It had lasted three or four
years. It was for nascent Christianity an unequalled good fortune
that its first attempts at association, essentially communist, were
so soon broken up. Attempts of this kind engender abuses so shocking,
that communist establishments are condemned to crumble away in a very
short time,[8.30] or very soon to ignore the principle on which they
are created.[8.31] Thanks to the persecution of the year 37, the
cenobitic Church of Jerusalem was saved from the test of time. It fell
in its flower, before interior difficulties had undermined it. It
remained like a splendid dream, the memory of which animated in their
life of trial all those who had formed part of it, like an ideal to
which Christianity will incessantly aspire to return, without ever
succeeding.[8.32] Those who know what an inestimable treasure for the
members still existing of the St. Simonian Church is the memory of
Ménilmontant, what friendship it creates between them, what joy gleams
from their eyes as they speak of it, will comprehend the powerful link
established between the new brethren by the fact of having loved and
then suffered together. Great lives have nearly always to remember a
few months during which they felt God--months which, though existing
only in memory, delight all the after years of their lives.

The leading part, in the persecution we have just recounted, was played
by that young Saul whom we have already found contributing, as far
as in him lay, to the murder of Stephen. This furious man, furnished
with a permission from the priests, entered into houses suspected of
concealing Christians, took violent hold of men and women, and dragged
them into prison or before the tribunals.[8.33] Saul prided himself
on there being no one of his generation so zealous as himself for the
traditions.[8.34] Often, it is true, the mildness, the resignation
of his victims astonished him; he experienced a sort of remorse; he
imagined hearing these pious women, hoping for the Kingdom of God, whom
he had thrown into prison, say to him during the night, with a gentle
voice: "Why persecutest thou us?" The blood of Stephen, by which he was
almost literally stained, sometimes disturbed his vision. Many things
he had heard said of Jesus went to his heart. This superhuman being,
in his ethereal life, whence he sometimes issued to reveal himself
in short apparitions, haunted him like a spectre. But Saul repulsed
such thoughts with horror; he confirmed himself with a sort of frenzy
in the faith of his traditions, and he was dreaming of new cruelties
against those who attacked them. His name had become the terror of the
faithful; the fiercest outrages, the most sanguinary perfidies, were
dreaded at his hands.[8.35]




                              CHAPTER IX.

                  FIRST MISSIONS.--PHILIP THE DEACON.


The persecution of the year 37 had for its result, as always happens,
the expansion of the doctrine it was wished to arrest. Until then
the Christian preaching had scarcely extended beyond Jerusalem; no
mission had been undertaken; inclosed within its lofty but narrow
communion, the mother Church had not radiated around itself nor formed
any branches. The dispersion of the little supper-table scattered the
good seed to the four winds. The members of the Church of Jerusalem,
violently driven from their quarters, spread themselves throughout
Judea and Samaria,[9.1] and preached everywhere the kingdom of God. The
deacons in particular, disengaged from their administrative functions
by the ruin of the Community, became excellent evangelists. They were
the active young element of the sect, in opposition to the somewhat
heavy element constituted by the apostles and the "Hebrews." One single
circumstance, that of language, would have sufficed to create in these
latter an inferiority in respect to preaching. They spoke, at least
as their habitual tongue, a dialect which the Jews themselves did not
use at a few leagues distance from Jerusalem. It was to the Hellenists
that fell all the honor of the grand conquest, the recital of which is
henceforth to be our principal object.

The theatre of the first of these missions, which was destined soon to
embrace all the basin of the Mediterranean, was the region round about
Jerusalem, within a circle of two or three days' journey. Philip the
Deacon[9.2] was the hero of this first holy expedition. He evangelized
Samaria with great success. The Samaritans were schismatics; but the
young sect, after the example of their Master, was less susceptible
than the rigorous Jews upon questions of orthodoxy. Jesus, it was said,
had shown Himself on different occasions not altogether unfavorable to
the Samaritans.[9.3]

Philip appears to have been one of the apostolical men most preöccupied
with theurgy.[9.4] The accounts which relate to him carry us into a
strange and fantastic world. It is by prodigies that are explained
the conversions which he made among the Samaritans, and in particular
at Sebaste, their capital. This country was itself filled with
superstitious ideas about magic. In the year 36, that is to say two
or three years before the arrival of the Christian preachers, a
fanatic had excited quite a serious emotion among the Samaritans by
preaching the necessity of returning to primitive Mosaism, of which
he pretended to have found the sacred utensils.[9.5] A certain Simon,
of the village of Gitta, or Gitton,[9.6] who afterwards rose to a
great reputation, began about that time to make himself known by his
wonderful operations.[9.7] It is painful to see the Gospel finding a
preparation and a support in such chimeras. Quite a large multitude
were baptized in the name of Jesus. Philip had the power of baptizing,
but not that of conferring the Holy Ghost. This privilege was reserved
to the apostles. When the tidings came to Jerusalem of the formation
of a group of believers at Sebaste, it was resolved to send Peter and
John to complete their initiation. The two apostles came, laid their
hands upon the new converts, prayed over their heads; the latter were
immediately endowed with marvellous powers attached to the conferring
of the Holy Ghost. Miracles, prophecy, all the phenomena of illuminism,
were produced, and the Church of Sebaste had nothing on this score to
envy that of Jerusalem.[9.8]

If we are to believe tradition about it, Simon of Gitton was
thenceforth in relations with the Christians. Converted according to
their reports by the preaching and the miracles of Philip, he was
baptized and attached himself to this evangelist. Then, when the
apostles Peter and John had come, and he saw the supernatural powers
procured by the laying on of hands, he came, it is said, to offer them
money in order that they should give him also the faculty of conferring
the Holy Ghost. Peter then made him this admirable reply: "Thy money
perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be
bought! Thou hast neither part nor lot in this matter, for thy heart is
not right in the sight of God."[9.9]

Whether these words were pronounced or not, they seem to trace exactly
the situation of Simon in regard to the nascent sect. We shall see,
in fact, that according to all appearances, Simon of Gitton was the
chief of a religious movement parallel to that of Christianity, one
which may be regarded as a sort of Samaritan counterfeit of the work of
Jesus. Had Simon already begun to dogmatize and to work wonders when
Philip arrived at Sebaste? Did he thenceforward enter into relations
with the Christian Church? Is there any reality in the anecdote which
makes of him the father of all "simony?" Must we admit that the world
one day saw face to face two thaumaturgists, one a charlatan and the
other the "corner-stone," which became the foundation of the faith
of humanity? Was a conjuror able to balance himself against the
destinies of Christianity? We know not, for want of documents; for the
account of the _Acts_ is here of feeble authority; and from the first
century Simon became for the Christian Church a subject of legends. In
history the general idea alone is pure. It would be unjust to dwell on
anything we may see to be shocked at in this sad page of the origin
of Christianity. For vulgar hearers the miracle proves the doctrine;
for us the doctrine causes the miracle to be forgotten. When a belief
has consoled and ameliorated humanity, it is excusable for having
employed proofs proportioned to the weakness of the public whom it
addressed. But when one has proved error by error, what excuse is there
to allege? This is not a condemnation we here pronounce against Simon
of Gitton. We shall have to explain further on this doctrine, and the
part he had to play, which only made itself clear under the reign of
Claudius.[9.10] It is necessary only to remark here, that an important
principle seems to have been introduced through him into the Christian
theurgy. Obliged to admit that impostors also worked miracles, orthodox
theology attributed these miracles to the devil. In order to retain
some demonstrative value in prodigies, rules had to be imagined for
distinguishing true from false miracles. Orthodoxy descended for this
purpose to an order of ideas exceedingly puerile.{9.11}

Peter and John, after having confirmed the Church of Sebaste, set out
again for Jerusalem, on their return evangelizing the villages of
the country of the Samaritans.[9.12] Philip the Deacon continued his
evangelizing travels, bending his steps towards the south, towards
the ancient country of the Philistines.[9.13] This country, since the
advent of the Maccabees, had received a strong infusion of the Jewish
element;[9.14] although Judaism was still by no means dominant there.
During this journey Philip accomplished a conversion which made some
noise, and which was much talked about on account of a particular
circumstance. One day as he was going along the road from Jerusalem to
Gaza, quite a deserted road,[9.15] he met a rich traveller, evidently
a foreigner, for he was riding in a chariot, a mode of locomotion
which was at all times almost unknown to the inhabitants of Syria
and Palestine. He was returning from Jerusalem, and gravely seated,
he was reading the Bible aloud, according to a custom then quite
common.[9.16] Philip, who thought that in everything his actions were
guided by an inspiration from on high, felt himself drawn towards his
chariot. He placed himself alongside of it, and quietly entered into
conversation with the opulent personage, offering to explain to him the
passages which he did not understand. This was a fine occasion for the
evangelist to develop the Christian thesis upon the figures of the Old
Testament. He proved that in the prophetic books everything related to
Jesus; that Jesus was the solution of the great enigma; that it was of
Him in particular that the All-Seeing had spoken in this fine passage:
"He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; as a lamb that is dumb before
its shearers, he opened not his mouth."[9.17] The traveller believed
him, and at the first water that they met, "Behold, here is water,"
said he, "why could I not be baptized?" The chariot was stopped; Philip
and the traveller descended into the water, and the latter was baptized.

Now the traveller was a powerful personage. He was a eunuch of the
Candace of Ethiopia, her Minister of Finance, and guardian of her
treasures, who had come to worship at Jerusalem, and was now returning
to Napata[9.18] by way of Egypt. _Candace_, or _Candaoce_, was the
title of feminine royalty in Ethiopia towards the period in which we
now are.[9.19] Judaism had consequently penetrated into Nubia and
Abyssinia.[9.20] Many natives were converted, or at least counted among
those proselytes who, without being circumcised, adored the one only
God.[9.21] The eunuch was perhaps of this latter class, a simple, pious
pagan, like the centurion Cornelius, who will shortly figure in this
history. It is impossible in any case to suppose that he was completely
initiated into Judaism.[9.22] After this we hear nothing more said
about the eunuch. But Philip related the incident, and further on much
importance was attached to it. When the question of the admission of
pagans into the Christian Church became the leading business, there
was found here a precedent of great weight. Philip was deemed to have
acted in all this affair by Divine inspiration.[9.23] This baptism,
given by order of the Holy Ghost, to a man scarcely a Jew, notoriously
uncircumcised, who had believed in Christianity only for a few hours,
had an eminent dogmatic value. It was an argument for those who thought
that the doors of the new Church ought to be open to all.[9.24]

Philip after this adventure, made his appearance at Ashdod, or Azote.
Such was the state of artless enthusiasm in which these missionaries
lived, that at each step they believed they heard voices from Heaven
and received directions from the Spirit.[9.25] Each of their steps
seemed to them regulated by a superior force; and when they went from
one city to another, they thought they were obeying a supernatural
inspiration. Sometimes they imagined they made aërial voyages. Philip
was in this respect one of the most exalted. It was on the indication
of an angel, as he believed, that he came from Samaria to the place
where he met the eunuch; after the baptism of the latter, he was
persuaded that the Spirit lifted him up and carried him direct to
Azote.[9.26]

Azote and the Gaza road were the limit of the first Gospel preaching
towards the south. Beyond were the desert and the nomadic life upon
which Christianity has ever taken but very slight hold. From Azote,
Philip the Deacon hurried towards the north, and evangelized all the
coast as far as Cesarea. Perhaps the Churches of Joppa and of Lydda,
which we shall soon find flourishing,[9.27] were founded by him. At
Cesarea he settled and founded an important church.[9.28] We shall
meet him there again twenty years later.[9.29] Cesarea was a new
city, and the most considerable in Judea.[9.30] It had been built
on the site of a Sidonian fortress called "Abdastarte's or Strato's
Tower," by Herod the Great, who gave to it, in honor of Augustus, the
name which its ruins bear even to this day. Cesarea was by much the
best port in all Palestine, and tended from day to day to become its
capital. Tired of living at Jerusalem, the Procurators of Judea were
soon going to make it their habitual residence.[9.31] It was peopled
chiefly by pagans;[9.32] the Jews, however, were quite numerous there,
and severe disputes often took place between the two classes of the
population.[9.33] The Greek language was alone spoken there, and the
Jews themselves had come to recite certain parts of their liturgy
in Greek.[9.34] The austere Rabbis of Jerusalem looked upon Cesarea
as a profane and dangerous abode, in which one became very nearly a
pagan.[9.35] From all the reasons which have just been cited, this
city will be of much importance in the sequel of our history. It was
in a manner the port of Christianity, the point by which the Church of
Jerusalem communicated with all the Mediterranean.

Many other missions, the history of which is unknown to us, were
conducted side by side with that of Philip.[9.36] The very rapidity
with which this first preaching was accomplished was the cause of its
success. In the year 38, five years after the death of Jesus, and one
perhaps after the death of Stephen, all Palestine on the higher side
of Jordan had heard the glad tidings from the mouth of missionaries
sent out from Jerusalem. Galilee, on its side, kept the holy seed and
probably spread it around, although we know nothing of any missions
issuing from this country. Perhaps the city of Damascus, which, from
the epoch at which we have arrived, also had its Christians,[9.37]
received the faith from Galilean preachers.




                               CHAPTER X.

                        CONVERSION OF ST. PAUL.


But the year 38 is marked in the history of the nascent Church by a
new and important conquest. It was during that year[10.1] that we may
safely place the conversion of that saint whom we saw a participant in
the stoning of Stephen, and a principal agent in the persecution of 37,
and who now, by a mysterious act of grace, becomes the most ardent of
the disciples of Jesus.

Saul was born at Tarsus, in Cilicia,[10.2] in the year 10 or 12 of our
era.[10.3] According to the manner of that day, his name was Latinized
into that of Paul;[10.4] yet he did not regularly adopt this last
name until he became the apostle of the Gentiles.[10.5] Paul was of
the purest Jewish blood.[10.6] His family, probably originally from
the town of Gischala, in Galilee,[10.7] professed to belong to the
tribe of Benjamin;[10.8] and his father enjoyed the title of Roman
citizen,[10.9] no doubt inherited from ancestors who had obtained
that honor either through purchase or through services rendered to
the state. Perhaps his grandfather had obtained it for aid given to
Pompey during the Roman conquest (63 B.C.). His family, like
most of the old and solid Jewish houses, belonged to the sect of
Pharisees.[10.10] Paul was reared according to the strictest principles
of this sect,[10.11] and though he subsequently repudiated its narrow
dogmas, he always retained its asperity, its exaltation, and its ardent
faith.

During the epoch of Augustus, Tarsus was a very flourishing city. The
population, though chiefly of the Greek and Aramaic races, included, as
was common in all the commercial towns,[10.12] a large number of Jews.
The taste for letters and the sciences was a marked characteristic of
the place; and no city in the world, not even excepting Athens and
Alexandria, was so rich in scientific institutions and schools.[10.13]
The number of learned men which Tarsus produced, or who pursued their
studies there, was truly extraordinary;[10.14] but it should not
therefore be imagined that Paul received a careful Greek education. The
Jews rarely frequented the institutions of secular instruction.[10.15]
The most celebrated schools of Tarsus were those of rhetoric,[10.16]
where the Greek classics received the first attention. It is hardly
probable that a man who had taken even elementary lessons in grammar
and rhetoric would have written in the incorrect non-Hellenistic style
of the Epistles of St. Paul. He talked habitually and fluently in
Greek,[10.17] and he wrote or rather dictated[10.18] in that language;
but his Greek was that of the Hellenistic Jews, a Greek replete with
Hebraisms and Syriacisms, scarcely intelligible to a lettered man of
that period, and which can only be accounted for by his Syriac turn
of mind. He himself recognised the common and defective character of
his style.[10.19] Whenever it was possible he spoke Hebrew--that is to
say, the Syro-Chaldaic of his time.[10.20] It was in this language that
he thought, and it was in this language that he was addressed by the
mysterious voice on the road to Damascus.[10.21]

Nor did his doctrine show any direct adaptation made from Greek
philosophy. The verse quoted from the Thais of Menander, that occurs
in his writings,[10.22] is one of those versified proverbs which were
familiar to the public, and could easily have been quoted by one who
had not read the original. Two other quotations--one from Epimenides,
the other from Aratus--which appear under his name,[10.23] although
it is not certain that he used them, may also be explained as having
been borrowed at second-hand.[10.24] The literary training of Paul was
almost exclusively Jewish,[10.25] and it is in the Talmud rather than
in the Greek classics that the analogies of his ideas must be sought.
A few general ideas of wide-spread philosophy, which one could learn
without opening a single book of the philosophers,[10.26] alone reached
him. His manner of reasoning was very curious. He certainly knew
nothing of the peripatetic logic. His syllogism was not at all that of
Aristotle; but on the contrary his dialectics greatly resembled those
of the Talmud. Paul, as a general thing, was influenced by words rather
than by ideas. When a word took possession of his mind it suggested a
train of thought singularly irrelevant to the subject in question. His
transitions were sudden, his developments interrupted, his conclusions
frequently suspended. Never was a writer more unequal. One may seek in
vain throughout the realm of literature for a phenomenon as _bizarre_
as that of a sublime passage like the thirteenth chapter of the First
Epistle to the Corinthians by the side of feeble arguments, laborious
repetitions, and fastidious subtleties.

His father early intended that he should be a Rabbi; but, according
to the general custom,[10.27] gave him a trade. Paul was an
upholsterer,[10.28] or rather a manufacturer of the heavy cloths of
Cilicia, which were called _Cilicium_. At various times he worked at
this trade,[10.29] for he had no patrimonial fortune. It seems quite
certain that he had a sister whose son lived at Jerusalem.[10.30]
In regard to a brother[10.31] and other relatives,[10.32] who it is
said had embraced Christianity, the indications are very vague and
uncertain. Refinement of manners being, according to some modern
ideas, in direct relation to personal wealth, it might be imagined
from what has just been said, that Paul was a man of the people,
badly educated and without dignity. This opinion would, however, be
thoroughly erroneous. His politeness was often extreme, and his manners
were exquisite. Notwithstanding the defects in his style, his letters
show that he was a man of rare intelligence,[10.33] who formed for his
lofty sentiments expressions of rare felicity; and no correspondence
exhibits more careful attentions, finer shades of meaning, and more
amiable hesitancies and timidity. One or two of his pleasantries shock
us.[10.34] But what animation! What a wealth of charming sayings! What
simplicity! It is easy to see that his character, at the times when his
passions do not make him irascible and fierce, is that of a polite,
earnest, and affectionate man, sometimes susceptible, and a little
jealous. Inferior as such men are before the general public,[10.35]
they possess within small sects immense advantages, through the
attachments they inspire, through their practical aptitude, and through
their skill in arranging difficult matters.

Paul was small in size, and his personal appearance did not correspond
with the greatness of his soul. He was ugly, stout, short, and
stooping, and his broad shoulders awkwardly sustained a little bald
head. His sallow countenance was half hidden in a thick beard; his
nose was aquiline, his eyes piercing, and his eyebrows heavy[10.36]
and joined across his forehead. Nor was there anything imposing in his
speech,[10.37] for his timid and embarrassed air gave but a poor idea
of his eloquence.[10.38] He shrewdly, however, admitted his exterior
defects, and even drew advantage therefrom.[10.39] The Jewish race
possesses the peculiarity of at the same time presenting types of
the greatest beauty, and the most thorough ugliness; but this Jewish
ugliness is something quite apart by itself. Some of the strange
visages which at first excite a smile, assume, when lighted up by
emotion, a sort of deep brilliancy and grandeur.

The temperament of Paul was not less singular than his exterior. His
constitution was not healthy, though at the same time its endurance
was proved by the way in which he supported an existence full of
fatigues and sufferings. He makes incessant allusions to his bodily
weakness. He speaks of himself as a man sick and bruised, timid,
without prestige, without any of those personal advantages calculated
to make an effect, and altogether so uninviting that it was surprising
that he did not repel people.[10.40] Besides this, he hints with
mystery at a secret trial, "a thorn in the flesh," which he compares
to a messenger of Satan sent to buffet him, "lest he should be exalted
above measure."[10.41] Thrice he besought the Lord to deliver him,
and thrice the Lord replied, "My grace is sufficient for thee." This
was apparently some bodily infirmity; for it is not possible to
suppose that he refers to the attractions of carnal delights, since he
himself informs us elsewhere that he was insensible to them.[10.42]
It appears that he was never married;[10.43] the entire coldness
of his temperament, the consequence of the unequalled ardor of his
brain, showed itself throughout his life, and he boasts of it with an
assurance savoring, perhaps, of affectation, and which, certainly,
seems to us rather unpleasant.[10.44]

He came to Jerusalem,[10.45] it is said, at an early age, and entered
the school of Gamaliel the Elder.[10.46] This Gamaliel was the most
enlightened man in Jerusalem. As the name of Pharisee was applied
to every prominent Jew who was not of a priestly family, Gamaliel
passed for a member of that sect. Yet he had none of its narrow and
exclusive spirit, and was a liberal, intelligent man, tolerant of the
heathen, and acquainted with Greek. Perhaps, indeed, the large ideas
professed by Paul after he received Christianity, were a reminiscence
of the teachings of his first master; it must, however, be admitted
that at first he did not learn much moderation from him. An extreme
fanaticism was then prevalent in Jerusalem. Paul was the leader of a
young and rigorous Pharisee party, most warmly attached to the national
traditions of the past.[10.47] He did not know Jesus,[10.48] nor was
he present at the bloody scene of Golgotha; but we have seen him
take an active part in the murder of Stephen, and among the foremost
of the persecutors of the Church. He breathed only threatenings and
slaughter, and furiously passed through Jerusalem bearing a mandate
which authorized and legalized all his brutalities. He went from
synagogue to synagogue, forcing the more timid to deny the name of
Jesus, and subjecting others to scourging or imprisonment.[10.49] When
the Church of Jerusalem was dispersed, his persecutions extended to
the neighboring cities;[10.50] and exasperated by the progress of the
new faith, and having learned that there was a group of the faithful
at Damascus, he obtained from the high-priest Theophilus, son of
Hanan,[10.51] letters to the synagogue of that city, which conferred on
him the power of arresting all evil-thinking persons, and of bringing
them bound in cords to Jerusalem.[10.52]

The disarrangement of Roman authority in Judea explains these arbitrary
vexations. The half mad Caligula was in power, and the administrative
service was everywhere disturbed. Fanaticism had gained all that
the civil power had lost. After the dismissal of Pilate, and the
concessions made to the natives by Lucius Vitellius, the country was
allowed to govern itself according to its own laws. A thousand local
tyrannies profited by the weakness of the decaying power. Damascus
had just passed into the hands of Hartat, or Hâreth, whose capital
was at Petra.[10.53] This bold and powerful prince, after having
beaten Herod Antipas, and withstood the Roman forces commanded by
the imperial legate Lucius Vitellius, had been marvellously aided by
fortune. The news of the death of Tiberius had suddenly arrested the
march of Vitellius.[10.54] Hâreth seized Damascus, and established
there an ethnarch or governor.[10.55] The Jews at that time were a
numerous party at Damascus, where they carried on an extensive system
of proselytizing, especially among the females.[10.56] It was deemed
advisable to make them contented; the best method of doing so was to
allow concessions to their autonomy, and every concession was simply
a permission to commit further religious violences.[10.57] To punish
and even kill those who did not think as they did, was their idea
of independence and liberty. Paul, in leaving Jerusalem, followed
without doubt the usual road, and crossed the Jordan at the "Bridge
of the Daughters of Jacob." His mental excitement was at its greatest
height, and he was alternately troubled and depressed. Passion is not
a rule of faith. The passionate man flies from one extreme creed to
another, but always retains the same impetuosity. Now, like all strong
minds, Paul quickly learned to love that which he had hated. Was he
sure, after all, that he was not thwarting the design of God? Perhaps
he remembered the calm, just views of his master Gamaliel.[10.58]
Often these ardent souls experience terrible revulsions. He felt
the charms of those whom he had tortured,[10.59] and the better he
knew these excellent sectarians the better he liked them; and than
their persecutor none had greater opportunities of knowing them well.
At times he saw the sweet face of the Master who had inspired His
disciples with so much patience, regarding him with an air of pity and
tender reproach. He was also much impressed by the accounts of the
apparitions of Jesus, describing him as an aerial being; for at the
epochs and in the countries when and where there is a tendency to the
marvellous, miraculous recitals influence equally each opposing party.
The Mahommedans, for instance, were afraid of the miracles of Elias;
and like the Christians, invoked supernatural cures in the names of St.
George and St. Anthony. Having crossed Ithuria, and while in the great
plain of Damascus, Paul, with several companions, all journeying on
foot,[10.60] approached the city, and had probably already reached the
beautiful gardens which surround it. The time was mid-day.[10.61]

The road from Jerusalem to Damascus has in nowise changed. It is
that one which, leaving Damascus in a south-easterly direction,
crosses the beautiful plain watered by the streams flowing into the
Abana and Pharpar, and upon which are now marshalled the villages
of Dareya, Kankab, and Sasa. The exact locality of which we speak,
and which was the scene of one of the most important facts in the
history of humanity, could not have been beyond Kankab (four hours
from Damascus).[10.62] It is even probable that the point in question
was much nearer the city, at about Dareya (an hour and a half from
Damascus), or between Dareya and Meidan.[10.63] The great city lay
before Paul, and the outlines of several of its edifices could be
dimly traced beyond the thick foliage; behind him towered the majestic
dome of Hermon, with its furrows of snow, making it resemble the bald
head of an old man; upon his right were the Hauran, the two little
parallel chains which inclose the lower course of the Pharpar,[10.64]
and the tumuli of the region of the lakes; and upon his left were the
outer spurs of the Anti-Libanus stretching out to join Mt. Hermon.
The impression produced by these richly cultivated fields, by these
beautiful orchards, separated the one from the other by trenches and
laden with the most delicious fruits, is that of peace and happiness.
Let one imagine to himself a shady road passing through the rich soil
crossed at intervals by canals for irrigation, bordered by declivities
and winding through forests of olives, walnuts, apricots, and prunes,
these trees draped by graceful festoons of vines, and there will be
presented to the mind the image of the scene of that remarkable event
which has exerted so wide an influence upon the faith of the world.

In these environs of Damascus[10.65] you could scarcely believe
yourself in the East; and above all, after leaving the arid and burning
regions of the Gaulonitide and of Ithuria, it is joy indeed to meet
once more the works of man and the blessings of Heaven. From the most
remote antiquity until the present day there has been but one name for
this zone, which surrounds Damascus with freshness and health, and that
name is the "Paradise of God."

If Paul there met with terrible visions, it was because he carried them
in his heart. Every step in his journey towards Damascus awaked in him
afflicting perplexities. The odious part of executioner, which he was
about to perform, became insupportable. The houses which he just saw
through the trees, were perhaps those of his victims. This thought
beset him and delayed his steps; he did not wish to advance; he seemed
to be resisting a mysterious influence which pressed him back.[10.66]
The fatigue of the journey,[10.67] joined to this preoccupation of the
mind, overwhelmed him. He had, it would seem, inflamed eyes,[10.68]
probably the beginning of ophthalmia. In these prolonged journeys, the
last hours are the most dangerous. All the debilitating causes of the
days just past accumulate, the nerves relax their power, and reaction
sets in. Perhaps, also, the sudden passage from the sun-smitten
plain to the cool shades of the gardens heightened his suffering
condition[10.69] and seriously excited the fanatical traveller.
Dangerous fevers, accompanied by delirium, are always sudden in these
latitudes, and in a few minutes the victim is prostrated as by a
thunder-stroke. When the crisis is over, the sufferer retains only the
impression of a period of profound darkness, crossed at intervals by
dashes of light or of images outlined against a dark background.[10.70]
It is quite certain that a terrible stroke instantly deprived Paul of
his remaining consciousness, and threw him senseless on the ground.

It is impossible, with the accounts which we have had of this singular
event,[10.71] to say whether any exterior fact led to the crisis
to which Christianity owes its most ardent apostle. In such cases,
moreover, the exterior fact is of but little importance. It was the
state of St. Paul's mind, it was his remorse on his approach to the
city where he was to commit the most signal of his misdeeds, which
were the true causes of his conversion.[10.72] I much prefer, for my
part, the hypothesis of an affair personal to Paul, and experienced by
him alone.[10.73] The incident, nevertheless, was not wholly unlike a
sudden storm. The flanks of Mt. Hermon are the point of formation for
thunder-showers unequalled in violence.[10.74] The most unimpressible
people cannot observe without emotion these terrible showers of fire.
It should be remembered that in ancient times accidents from lightning
strokes were considered divine relations; that with the ideas regarding
providential interference then prevalent, nothing was fortuitous; and
that every man was accustomed to view the natural phenomena around
him as bearing a direct relation to himself individually. The Jews
in particular always considered that thunder was the voice of God,
and that lightning was the fire of God. Paul at this moment was in
a state of lively excitement, and it was but natural that he should
interpret as the voice of the storm the thoughts really passing in his
mind. That a delirious fever, resulting from a sun-stroke or an attack
of ophthalmia, had suddenly seized him; that a flash of lightning
blinded him for a time; that a peal of thunder had produced a cerebral
commotion, temporarily depriving him of sight--nothing of this occurred
to his mind. The recollections of the apostle on this point appeared
to be considerably confused; he was persuaded that the incident was
supernatural, and this conviction would not permit him to entertain any
clear consciousness of material circumstances. Such cerebral commotions
produce sometimes a sort of retroactive effect, and greatly perturb the
recollections of the moments immediately preceding the crisis.[10.75]
Paul, moreover, elsewhere informs us himself that he was subject to
visions;[10.76] and this circumstance, insignificant as it may be to
others, is sufficient to show that for the time being he was demented.

And what did he see, what did he hear, while a prey to these
hallucinations? He saw the countenance which had haunted him for
several days; he saw the phantom of which so much had been said. He
saw Jesus Himself, who spoke to him in Hebrew, saying, "Saul, Saul,
why persecutest thou me?" Impetuous natures pass immediately from one
extreme to the other.[10.77] For them there exist solemn moments and
crucial instants which change the course of a lifetime, and which
colder natures never experience. Reflective men do not change, but are
transformed; while ardent men, on the contrary, change and are not
transformed. Dogmatism is a shirt of Nessus which they cannot tear
off. They must have a pretext for loving and hating. Only our western
races have been able to produce those minds--large yet delicate,
strong yet flexible--which no empty affirmation can mislead, and no
momentary illusion can carry away. The East has never had men of this
description. Instantly, the most thrilling thoughts rushed upon the
soul of Paul. Alive to the enormity of his conduct, he saw himself
stained with the blood of Stephen, and this martyr appeared to him as
his father, his initiator into the new faith. Touched to the quick,
his sentiments experienced a revulsion as thorough as it was sudden;
and yet all this was but a new order of fanaticism. His sincerity and
his need of an absolute faith prevented any middle course; and it was
already clear that he would one day exhibit in the cause of Jesus the
same fiery zeal he had shown in persecuting Him.

With the assistance of his companions, who led him by the hand,[10.78]
Paul entered Damascus. His friends took him to the house of a certain
Judas, who lived in the street called Straight, a grand colonnaded
avenue over a mile long and a hundred feet broad, which crossed the
city from east to west, and the line of which yet forms, with a few
deviations, the principal artery of Damascus.[10.79] The transport and
excitement of his brain[10.80] had not yet subsided. For three days
Paul, a prey to fever, neither ate nor drank. It is easy to imagine
what passed during this crisis in that brain maddened by violent
disease. Mention was made in his hearing of the Christians of Damascus,
but especially of a certain Ananias who appeared to be the chief of
the community.[10.81] Paul had often heard of the miraculous powers of
new believers over maladies, and he became seized by the idea that the
imposition of hands would cure him of his disease. His eyes all this
time were highly inflamed, and in his delirious imaginations[10.82]
he thought he saw Ananias enter the room and make a sign familiar
to Christians. From that moment he was convinced that he should owe
his recovery to Ananias. The latter, informed of this, visited the
sick man, spoke kindly, addressed him as his "brother," and laid his
hands upon his head; and from that hour peace returned to the soul of
Paul. He believed himself cured; and as his ailment had been purely
nervous, he was so. Little crusts or scales, it is said, fell from his
eyes;[10.83] he again partook of food and recovered his strength.

Almost immediately after this he was baptized.[10.84] The doctrines
of the Church were so simple that he had nothing new to learn, but
was at once a Christian and a perfect one. And from whom else did he
need instruction? Jesus Himself had appeared to him. He too, like
James and Peter, had had his vision of the risen Jesus. He had learned
everything by direct revelation. Here the fierce and unconquerable
nature of Paul was made manifest. Smitten down on the public road, he
was willing to submit, but only to Jesus, to that Jesus who had left
the right hand of the Father to convert and instruct him. Such was
the foundation of his faith; and such will be the starting-point of
his claims. He will maintain that it was by design that he did not
go to Jerusalem immediately after his conversion, and place himself
in relations with those who had been apostles before him; he will
maintain that he has received a special revelation, for which he is
indebted to no human agency; that, like the twelve, he is an apostle
by divine institution and by direct commission from Jesus; that his
doctrine is the true one, although an angel from heaven should say to
the contrary.[10.85] An immense danger finds entrance through this
proud man into the little society of poor in spirit who until now had
constituted Christianity. It will be a real miracle if his violence
and his inflexible personality does not burst forth. But at the same
time his boldness, his initiative force, his prompt decision, will
be precious elements beside the narrow, timid, and indecisive spirit
of the saints of Jerusalem! Certainly, if Christianity had remained
confined to these good people, shut up in a conventicle of elect,
leading a communistic life, it would, like Essenism, have faded away,
leaving scarcely a trace. It is this ungovernable Paul who will secure
its success, and who at the risk of every peril will lift on high its
holy banner. By the side of the obedient faithful, accepting his creed
without questioning his superior, there will be a Christian disengaged
from all authority who will believe only from personal conviction.
Protestantism thus existed five years after the death of Jesus, and St.
Paul was its illustrious founder. Jesus had no doubt anticipated such
disciples; and it was such as these who would most largely contribute
to the vitality of His work and insure its eternity. Violent natures
inclined to proselytism, only change the object of their passion. As
ardent for the new faith as he had been for the old, St. Paul, like
Omar, in one day dropped his part of persecutor for that of apostle.
He did not return to Jerusalem,[10.86] where his position towards the
twelve would have been peculiar and delicate. He tarried at Damascus
and in the Hauran[10.87] for three years (38-41), preaching that Jesus
was the Son of God.[10.88] Herod Agrippa I. held the sovereignty of
the Hauran and the neighboring countries; but his power was at several
points superseded by that of a Nabatian king, Hârath. The decay of the
Roman power in Syria had delivered to the ambitious Arab the great and
rich city of Damascus, besides a part of the countries beyond Jordan
and Hermon, then just opening to civilization.[10.89] Another emir,
most probably Soheym,[10.90] a relative or lieutenant of Hârath, had
received from Caligula the command of Ithuria. It was in the midst
of this great awakening of the Arab nation,[10.91] upon a foreign
soil where an energetic race manifested its fiery activity, that Paul
first showed the brilliancy of his apostolic soul.[10.92] Perhaps the
material yet dazzling movement which revolutionized the country was
prejudicial to a theory and preaching wholly idealistic, and founded
on a belief of a speedy end of the world. Indeed, there exists no
trace of an Arabian church founded by St. Paul. If the region of the
Hauran became, towards the year 70, one of the most important centres
of Christianity, it was owing to the emigration of Christians from
Palestine; and it was really the Ebionites, the enemies of St. Paul,
who had in this region their principal establishment.

At Damascus, where there were many Jews,[10.93] the teachings of Paul
received more attention. In the synagogues of that city he entered into
vigorous arguments to prove that Jesus was the Christ. Great indeed was
the astonishment of the faithful on beholding him who had persecuted
their brethren at Jerusalem, and who had come to Damascus "to bring
themselves bound unto the chief-priests," now appearing as their
leading defender.[10.94] His audacity and personal characteristics
almost alarmed them. He was alone; he sought no counsel;[10.95] he
established no school; and the emotions he excited were those of
curiosity rather than of sympathy. The faithful felt that he was a
brother, but a brother marked by singular peculiarities. They believed
him incapable of treachery; but amiable and mediocre natures always
experience sentiments of mistrust and alarm when brought in contact
with powerful and original minds, whom they acknowledge as their
superiors, and who they know must surpass them.




                              CHAPTER XI.

        PEACE AND INTERIOR DEVELOPMENTS OF THE CHURCH OF JUDEA.


From the year 38 to the year 44 no persecution seems to have weighed
upon the Church.[11.1] The faithful, no doubt, were far more prudent
than before the death of Stephen, and avoided speaking in public.
Perhaps, also, the troubles of the Jews who, during all the second
part of the reign of Caligula, were at variance with that prince,
contributed to favor the nascent sect. The Jews, in fact, were active
persecutors in proportion to the good understanding they maintained
with the Romans. To buy or to recompense their tranquillity, the latter
were led to augment their privileges, and in particular that one to
which they clung most closely--the right of killing persons whom they
regarded as unfaithful to their law.[11.2] Now the period at which we
have arrived was one of the most stormy of all in the turbulent history
of this singular people.

The antipathy which the Jews, by their moral superiority, their odd
customs, and also by their severity, excited in the populations among
whom they lived, was at its height, especially at Alexandria.[11.3]
This accumulated hatred took advantage, for its own satisfaction,
of the coming to the imperial throne of one of the most dangerous
madmen that ever wore a crown. Caligula, at least after the malady
which consummated his mental derangement (October 37), presented the
frightful spectacle of a maniac governing the world with the most
enormous powers ever put into the hands of any man. The disastrous
law of Cæsarism rendered such horrors possible, and left them without
remedy. This lasted three years and three months. One cannot without
shame narrate in a serious history that which is now to follow. Before
entering upon the recital of these saturnalia we cannot but exclaim
with Suetonius: _Reliqua ut de monstro narranda sunt_.

The most inoffensive pastime of this madman was the care of his own
divinity.[11.4] In this he used a sort of bitter irony, a mixture of
the serious and the comic (for the monster was not wanting in wit), a
sort of profound derision of the human race. The enemies of the Jews
were not slow to perceive the advantage they might derive from this
mania. The religious abasement of the world was such that not a protest
was heard against the sacrilege of the Cæsar; every worship hastened
to bestow upon him the titles and the honors which it had reserved for
its gods. It is to the eternal glory of the Jews that, in the midst of
this ignoble idolatry, they uttered the cry of outraged conscience.
The principle of intolerance which was in them, and which led them to
so many cruel acts, showed here its bright side. Alone affirming their
religion to be the absolute religion, they would not bend to the odious
caprice of the tyrant. This was the source of untold troubles for them.
It needed only that there should be in any city some man discontented
with the synagogue, spiteful, or simply mischievous, to bring about
frightful consequences. At one time the people would insist on erecting
an altar to Caligula in the very place where the Jews could least of
all suffer it.[11.5] At another, a troupe of ragamuffins would collect,
hooting and crying out against the Jews for alone refusing to place the
statue of the emperor in their houses of prayer; then the people would
run to the synagogues and the oratories; they would install there the
bust of Caligula;[11.6] and the unfortunate Jews were placed in the
alternative of either renouncing their religion, or committing treason.
Thence followed frightful vexations.

Such pleasantries had been several times repeated, when a still more
diabolical idea was suggested to the emperor. This was to place a
colossal golden statue of himself in the sanctuary of the temple
at Jerusalem, and to have the temple itself dedicated to his own
divinity.[11.7] This odious intrigue had very nearly hastened by thirty
years the revolt and the ruin of the Jewish nation. The moderation
of the imperial legate, Publius Petronius, and the intervention of
King Herod Agrippa, favorite of Caligula, prevented the catastrophe.
But until the moment in which the sword of Chæræa delivered the earth
from the most execrable tyrant it had as yet endured, the Jews lived
everywhere in terror. Philo has preserved for us the unheard-of scene
which occurred when the deputation of which he was the chief was
admitted to see the emperor.[11.8] Caligula received them during a
visit he was paying to the villas of Mæcenas and of Lamia, near the
sea, in the environs of Pozzuoli. He was on that day in a vein of
gaiety. Helicon, his favorite joker, had been relating to him all
sorts of buffooneries about the Jews. "Ah, then, it is you," said he
to them with a bitter smile and showing his teeth, "who alone will not
recognise me for a god, and prefer to adore one whose name you cannot
even utter!" He accompanied these words with a frightful blasphemy. The
Jews trembled; their Alexandrian enemies were the first to take up the
word: "You would still more, O Sire, detest these people and all their
nation, if you knew the aversion they have for you; for they alone have
refused to offer sacrifices for your health when all other people did
so!"

At these words, the Jews cried out that it was a calumny, and that they
had three times offered for the prosperity of the emperor the most
solemn sacrifices known to their religion. "Yes," said Caligula, with a
very comical seriousness, "you have sacrificed, and so far, well; but
then it was not to me that you sacrificed. What advantage do I derive
from it?" Thereupon, turning his back upon them, he strode through the
apartments, giving orders for repairs, incessantly going up and down
stairs. The unfortunate deputies, and among them Philo, eighty years of
age, the most venerable man of the time, perhaps--Jesus being no longer
living--followed him up and down out of breath, trembling, the object
of derision to the assembled company. Caligula turning suddenly, said
to them: "By the by, why will you not eat pork?" The flatterers burst
into laughter; some of the officers, with a severe tone, reminded them
that they offended the majesty of the emperor by immoderate laughter.
The Jews stammered; one of them awkwardly said: "There are some persons
who do not eat lamb." "Ah!" said the emperor, "they have good reason;
lamb is insipid." Some time after, he made a show of inquiring into
their business; then, when speaking had just begun, he left them and
went off to give orders about the decoration of a hall which he wanted
to have furnished with polished stones. He returned, affecting an air
of moderation, and asked the deputation if they had anything to add;
and as the latter resumed their interrupted discourse, he turned his
back upon them to go and see another hall which he was ornamenting with
paintings. This game of tiger sporting with its prey lasted for hours.
The Jews were expecting death; but at the last moment the claws of the
beast relaxed. "Well," said Caligula, while repassing, "these folks are
decidedly less guilty than pitiable for not believing in my divinity."
Thus could the gravest questions be treated under the horrible regimen
created by the baseness of the world, cherished by a soldiery and a
populace about equally vile, and maintained by the dissoluteness of
nearly all.

We can easily understand how so oppressive a situation must have taken
from the Jews of the time of Marcellus much of that audacity which made
them speak so proudly to Pilate. Already almost entirely detached from
the temple, the Christians must have been much less alarmed than the
Jews at the sacrilegious projects of Caligula. They were, moreover,
too little numerous for their existence to be known at Rome. The storm
of the time of Caligula, like that which resulted in the taking of
Jerusalem by Titus, passed over their heads, and was in many regards
serviceable to them. Everything which weakened Jewish independence was
favorable to them, since it was so much taken away from the power of a
suspicious orthodoxy, maintaining its pretensions by severe penalties.

This period of peace was fruitful in interior developments. The nascent
Church was divided into three provinces: Judea, Samaria, Galilee[11.9],
to which Damascus was no doubt attached. The primacy of Jerusalem was
uncontested. The Church of this city, which had been dispersed after
the death of Stephen, was quickly reconstituted. The Apostles had never
quitted the city. The brothers of the Lord continued to reside there,
and to wield a great authority.[11.10] It does not seem that this
new Church of Jerusalem was organized in so rigorous a manner as the
first; the community of goods was not strictly reëstablished in it. But
there was founded a large fund for the poor, to which were added the
contributions sent by minor churches to the mother church, the origin
and permanent source of their faith.[11.11]

Peter undertook frequent apostolical journeys in the environs
of Jerusalem.[11.12] He always enjoyed a great reputation as a
thaumaturgist. At Lydda[11.13] in particular he passed for having
cured a paralytic named Æneas, a miracle which is said to have led
to numerous conversions in the plain of Saron.[11.14] From Lydda he
repaired to Joppa,[11.15] a city which appears to have been a centre
for Christianity. Cities of workmen, of sailors, of poor people, where
the orthodox Jews were not dominant, were those in which the new sect
found the best dispositions. Peter made a long sojourn at Joppa, at the
house of a tanner named Simon who dwelt near the sea.[11.16] Working in
leather was an industry almost unclean, according to the Mosaic code;
it was not lawful to visit too frequently those who carried it on,
so that the curriers had to live in a district by themselves.[11.17]
Peter, in choosing such a host, gave a proof of his indifference to
Jewish prejudices, and worked for that ennoblement of petty callings
which constitutes a noble feature of the Christian spirit.

The organization of works of charity was soon actively pursued. The
church of Joppa possessed a woman admirably named in Aramaic, _Tabitha_
(gazelle), and in Greek, _Dorcas_,[11.18] who consecrated all her cares
to the poor.[11.19] She was rich, it seems, and distributed her wealth
in alms. This worthy lady had formed a society of pious widows, who
spent their days with her in weaving clothes for the poor.[11.20] As
the schism between Christianity and Judaism was not yet consummated,
it is probable that the Jews shared in the benefit of these acts of
charity. The "saints and widows"[11.21] were thus pious persons, doing
good to all, a sort of friars and nuns, whom only the most austere
devotees of a pedantic orthodoxy could suspect, _fraticelli_, loved by
the people, devout, charitable, full of pity.

The germ of those associations of women, which are one of the glories
of Christianity, thus existed in the first churches of Judea. At Jaffa
commenced that series of the veiled women, clothed in linen, who were
destined to continue through centuries the tradition of charitable
acts. Tabitha was the mother of a family which will have no end as
long as there are miseries to be solaced and good feminine instincts
to assuage them. It is related further on, that Peter raised her from
the dead. Alas! death, utterly senseless, utterly revolting as it
is in such a case, is inflexible. When the most exquisite soul has
evaporated, the decree is irrevocable; the most excellent woman can
no more respond to the invitation of the friendly voices which would
fain recall her, than can the vulgar and frivolous. But ideas are not
subject to the conditions of matter. Virtue and goodness escape the
fangs of death. Tabitha had no need to be resuscitated. For the sake
of three or four days more of this sad life, why disturb her sweet and
eternal repose? Let her sleep in peace; the day of the just will come!

In these very mixed cities, the problem of the admission of pagans
to baptism was propounded with much urgency. Peter was strongly
preöccupied with it. One day while he was praying at Joppa, on the
terrace of the tanner's house, having before him this sea that was
soon going to bear the new faith to all the empire, he had a prophetic
ecstasy. Plunged into a state of dreamy reverie, he thought he
experienced a sensation of hunger, and asked for something to eat. Now
while they were making it ready for him, he saw the heavens opened, and
a cloth tied at the four corners come down thence. Looking inside the
cloth he saw there all sorts of animals, and thought he heard a voice
saying to him: "Kill and eat." And on his objecting that many of these
animals were impure, he was answered: "Call not that unclean which God
has cleansed." This, as it appears, was repeated three times. Peter
was persuaded that these animals represented the mass of the Gentiles,
which God Himself had just rendered fit for the holy communion of the
kingdom of God.[11.22]

An occasion was soon presented for applying these principles. From
Joppa, Peter repaired to Cesarea. There he came into relations with
a centurion named Cornelius.[11.23] The garrison of Cesarea was
formed, at least in part, of one of those cohorts composed of Italian
volunteers which were called _Italicæ_.[11.24] The complete name
for which this stood may have been _cohors prima Augustus Italica
civium Romanorum_.[11.25] Cornelius was a centurion of this cohort,
consequently an Italian and a Roman citizen. He was a man of probity,
who had long felt drawn towards the aconotheistic worship of the
Jews. He prayed, gave alms; practised, in a word, those precepts of
natural religion which are taken for granted by Judaism; but he was
not circumcised; he was not a proselyte in any degree whatever; he was
a pious pagan, an Israelite in heart, nothing more.[11.26] All his
household and some soldiers of his command were, it is said, in the
same state of mind.[11.27] Cornelius applied for admission into the new
Church. Peter, whose nature was open and benevolent, granted it to him,
and the centurion was baptized.[11.28]

Perhaps Peter saw at first no difficulty[11.29] in this; but on his
return to Jerusalem he was severely reproached for it. He had openly
violated the law, he had gone in among the uncircumcised and had eaten
with them. The question was an important one; it was no other than
whether the law were abolished, whether it was permissible to violate
it in proselytism, whether Gentiles could be received on an equal
footing into the Church. Peter, to defend himself, related the vision
he had at Joppa. Subsequently the fact of the centurion served as an
argument in the great question of the baptism of the uncircumcised. To
give it more force it was supposed that each phase of this important
business had been marked by a revelation from Heaven. It was related
that after long prayers Cornelius had seen an angel who ordered him
to go and inquire for Peter at Joppa; that the symbolical vision of
Peter took place at the very hour of the arrival of the messengers from
Cornelius; that, moreover, God had taken it upon Himself to legitimize
all that had been done, seeing that the Holy Ghost had descended upon
Cornelius and upon his household, the latter having spoken strange
tongues and sung psalms after the fashion of the other believers. Was
it natural to refuse baptism to persons who had received the Holy Ghost?

The Church of Jerusalem was still exclusively composed of Jews and of
proselytes. The Holy Ghost being shed upon the uncircumcised before
baptism, appeared an extraordinary fact. It is probable that there
existed thenceforth a party opposed in principle to the admission of
Gentiles, and that every one did not accept the explanations of Peter.
The author of the _Acts_[11.30] would have it that the approbation was
unanimous. But in a few years we shall see the question revived with
much greater intensity.[11.31] The fact of the good centurion was,
perhaps, like that of the Ethiopian eunuch, accepted as an exceptional
one, justified by a revelation and an express order from God. The
matter was far from being settled. This was the first controversy in
the bosom of the Church; the paradise of interior peace had lasted six
or seven years.

About the year 40, the great question on which hung all the future of
Christianity appears thus to have been propounded. Peter and Philip
took a very just view of the true solution, and baptized pagans. It
is difficult, no doubt, in the two accounts given us by the author of
the _Acts_ on this subject, and which are partly sketched one from the
other, not to recognise a system. The author of the _Acts_ belongs to a
party of conciliation, favorable to the introduction of pagans into the
Church, and who is not willing to confess the violence of the divisions
to which the affair gave rise. One feels strongly that in writing the
episodes of the eunuch, of the centurion, and even of the conversion of
the Samaritans, this author means not only to narrate facts, but seeks
especially precedents for an opinion. On the other hand, we cannot
admit that he invents the facts which he narrates. The conversions of
the eunuch of Candace, and of the centurion Cornelius, are probably
real facts, presented and transformed according to the needs of the
thesis in view of which the book of the Acts was composed.

Paul, who was destined, some ten or eleven years later, to give to this
discussion so decisive a bearing, had not yet meddled with it. He was
in the Hauran, or at Damascus, preaching, refuting the Jews, placing at
the service of the new faith as much ardor as he had shown in fighting
against it. The fanaticism, of which he had been the instrument, was
not long in pursuing him in his turn. The Jews resolved to destroy him.
They obtained from the ethnarch, who governed Damascus in the name of
Hârath, an order to arrest him. Paul hid himself. It was known that he
had to leave the city; the ethnarch, who wanted to please the Jews,
placed detachments at the gates to seize his person; but the brethren
enabled him to escape by night, letting him down in a basket from the
window of a house which overhung the ramparts.[11.32]

Having escaped this danger, Paul turned his eyes towards Jerusalem.
He had been a Christian for three years,[11.33] and had not yet seen
the apostles. His rigid, unyielding character, prone to isolation,
had made him at first turn his back as it were upon the great family
into which he had just entered in spite of himself, and prefer for his
first apostolate a new country, in which he would find no colleague.
There was awakened in him, however, a desire to see Peter.[11.34] He
recognised his authority, and designated him, as every one did, by the
name of _Cephas_, "the stone." He repaired then to Jerusalem, taking
the same road, but in an opposite direction to that he had traversed
three years before in a state of mind so different.

His position at Jerusalem was extremely false and embarrassing. It
had been understood there, no doubt, that the persecutor had become
the most zealous of evangelists, and the first defender of the faith
which he had formerly sought to destroy.[11.35] But there remained
great prejudices against him. Many feared some horrible plot on his
part. They had seen him so enraged, so cruel, so zealous in entering
houses and rending open family secrets in order to find victims, that
he was believed capable of playing an odious farce in order to destroy
those whom he hated.[11.36] He stayed, as it seems, in the house of
Peter.[11.37] Many disciples remained deaf to his advances, and shrank
from him.[11.38] A man of courage and will, Barnabas, played at this
moment a decisive part. As a Cyprian and a new convert, he understood
better than the Galilean disciples the position of Paul. He came to
meet him, took him in a manner by the hand, introduced him to the
most suspicious, and became his surety.[11.39] By this act of wisdom
and penetration, Barnabas won at the hands of the Christian world the
highest degree of merit. It was he who appreciated Paul; it was to
him that the Church owes the most extraordinary of her founders. The
fruitful friendship of these two apostolic men, a friendship that no
cloud ever tarnished, notwithstanding many differences in opinion,
afterwards led to their association in the work of missions to the
Gentiles. This grand association dates, in one sense, from Paul's first
sojourn at Jerusalem. Among the causes of the faith of the world we
must count the generous movement of Barnabas, stretching out his hand
to the suspected and forsaken Paul; the profound intuition which led
him to discover the soul of an apostle under that humiliated air; the
frankness with which he broke the ice and levelled the obstacles raised
between the convert and his new brethren by the unfortunate antecedents
of the former, and perhaps, also, by certain traits of his character.

Paul, meantime, systematically as it were, avoided seeing the apostles.
It is he himself says so, and he takes the trouble to affirm it with
an oath; he saw only Peter, and James the brother of the Lord.[11.40]
His sojourn lasted only two weeks.[11.41] Assuredly it is possible
that at the epoch in which he wrote the Epistle to the Galatians
(towards 56), Paul may have found himself led, by the needs of the
moment, to give some little coloring to his relations with the
apostles; to represent them as more harsh, more imperious, than they
were in reality. Towards 56 the essential point for him to prove was
that he had received nothing from Jerusalem--that he was in no wise
the mandatory of the Council of Twelve established in this city. His
attitude at Jerusalem would have been the proud and lofty bearing
of a master who avoids relations with other masters in order not to
have the air of subordinating himself to them, and not the humble and
repentant mien of a sinner ashamed of the past, as the author of the
_Acts_ represents. We cannot believe that from the year 44 Paul was
animated by this jealous care to preserve his own originality, which he
showed at a later day. The rarity of his interviews with the apostles,
and the brevity of his sojourn at Jerusalem, arose probably from his
embarrassment in the presence of people of quite another nature than
his own, and full of prejudices against him, rather than from a refined
polity, which would have revealed to him fifteen years in advance the
disadvantages there might be in his frequenting their society.

In reality, that which must have erected a sort of wall between the
apostles and Paul, was chiefly the difference of their character and
of their education. The apostles were all Galileans; they had not been
at the great Jewish schools; they had seen Jesus; they remembered
his words; they were good and pious folk, at times a little solemn
and simple-hearted. Paul was a man of action, full of fire, only
moderately mystical, enrolled, as by a superior force, in a sect which
was not that of his first adoption. Revolt, protestation, were his
habitual sentiments.[11.42] His Jewish education was much superior to
that of all his new brethren. But not having heard Jesus, not having
been appointed by him, he had, according to Christian ideas, a great
inferiority. Now Paul was not made to accept any secondary place. His
haughty individuality demanded a position for himself. It is probably
towards this time that there sprang up in his mind the proud idea that
after all he had nothing to envy those who had known Jesus and had been
chosen by him, since he also had seen Jesus and had received from Jesus
a direct revelation and the commission of his apostleship. Even those
who had been honored by the personal appearance to them of the risen
Christ, had no more than he had. Although the last, his vision had been
no less remarkable. It had taken place under circumstances which gave
it a peculiar mark of importance and of distinction.[11.43] Signal
error! The echo of the voice of Jesus was found in the discourses of
the humblest of His disciples. With all his Jewish science, Paul could
not make up for the immense disadvantage under which he was placed
by his tardy initiation. The Christ whom he had seen on the road to
Damascus was not, whatever he might say, the Christ of Galilee; it was
the Christ of his imagination, of his own senses. Although he may have
been most attentive to gather the words of the Master,[11.44] it is
clear that he was only a disciple at second-hand. If Paul had met Jesus
during his life, it may be doubtful whether he would have attached
himself to Him. His doctrine will be his own, not that of Jesus; the
revelations of which he is so proud are the fruit of his own brain.

These ideas, which he dared not as yet communicate, rendered his stay
at Jerusalem very disagreeable. At the end of a fortnight he took leave
of Peter and went away. He had seen so few people that he ventured
to say that no one in the churches of Judea knew him by sight, or
knew aught of him, save by hearsay.[11.45] At a subsequent period he
attributed this sudden departure to a revelation. He related that being
one day in the temple praying, he was in an extasy, and saw Jesus in
person, and received from Him the order to quit Jerusalem immediately,
"because they were not inclined to receive his testimony." In exchange
for these hard hearts, Jesus had promised him the apostolate of distant
nations, and an auditory more docile to his voice.[11.46] Those who
would fain hide the traces of the many ruptures caused by the coming of
this insubordinate disciple into the Church, pretended that Paul passed
quite a long time at Jerusalem, living with the brethren on a footing
of the most complete liberty; but that, having undertaken to preach
to the Hellenist Jews, he was very nearly killed by them, so that the
brethren had to watch over him and protect him, and finally took him to
Cesarea.[11.47]

It is probable, in fact, that from Jerusalem he did repair to Cesarea.
But he stayed there only a short time, and then set out to traverse
Syria, and afterwards Cilicia.[11.48] He was, no doubt, already
preaching, but on his own account, and without any understanding with
anybody. Tarsus, his native place, was his habitual sojourn during this
period of his apostolical life, which we may reckon as having lasted
about two years.[11.49] It is possible that the churches of Cilicia
owed their origin to him.[11.50] Still, the life of Paul was not at
this epoch that which we see it to have been subsequently. He did
not assume the title of an apostle, which was then strictly reserved
to the Twelve.[11.51] It was only from the time of his association
with Barnabas (year 45) that he entered upon that career of sacred
peregrinations and preachings which made of him the type of the
travelling missionary.




                              CHAPTER XII.

                 ESTABLISHMENT OF THE CHURCH OF ANTIOCH.


The new faith was propagated from one neighborhood to another with
astonishing rapidity. The members of the Church of Jerusalem who had
been dispersed immediately after the death of Stephen, pushing their
conquests along the coast of Phœnicia, reached Cyprus and Antioch.
They were as yet guided by an unvarying principle of refusing to preach
the gospel to the Jews.[12.1] Antioch, "the metropolis of the East,"
the third city of the world,[12.2] was the centre of this Christendom
of northern Syria. It was a city with a population of more than 500,000
souls, almost as large as Paris before its recent extensions,[12.3]
and the residence of the Imperial Legate of Syria. Suddenly advanced
to a high degree of splendor by the Seleucidæ, it had only to profit
by the Roman occupation of it. In general, the Seleucidæ had surpassed
the Romans in the taste for theatrical decorations as applied to great
cities. Temples, aqueducts, baths, basilicas, nothing was wanting
at Antioch in what constituted a grand Syrian city of that period.
The streets flanked by colonnades, with their cross-roads decorated
with statues, had there more of symmetry and regularity than anywhere
else.[12.4] A _Corso_, ornamented with four ranges of columns, forming
two covered galleries with a wide avenue in the midst, crossed the city
from one side to the other,[12.5] the length of which was thirty-six
stadia (more than a league).[12.6] But Antioch not only possessed
immense edifices of public utility,[12.7] she had that also which few
of the Syrian cities possessed--the noblest specimens of Grecian art,
wonderfully beautiful statues,[12.8] classical works of a delicacy of
detail which the age was no longer capable of imitating. Antioch, from
its foundation, had been altogether a Grecian city. The Macedonians
of Antigone and Seleucus had imported into that country of the lower
Orontes their most lively recollections, their worship, and the names
of their country.[12.9] The Grecian mythology was there adopted as
it were in a second home; they pretended to exhibit in the country a
crowd of "holy places" forming part of this mythology. The city was
full of the worship of Apollo and of the nymphs. Daphne, an enchanting
place two short hours distant from the city, reminded the conquerors of
the pleasantest fictions. It was a sort of plagiarism, a counterfeit
of the myths of the mother country, analogous to these adventurous
transportations which the primitive tribes carried with them in their
travels; their mythical geography, their Berecyntha, their Arnanda,
their Ida, and their Olympus. These Greek fables constituted for them a
very old religion, and one scarcely more serious than the metamorphoses
of Ovid. The ancient religions of the country, particularly that of
Mount Cassius,[12.10] contributed some little gravity to it. But Syrian
levity, Babylonian charlatanism, and all the impostures of Asia,
mingled at this limit of the two worlds, had made Antioch the capital
of lies and the sink of every description of infamy.

Besides the Greek population, indeed, which in no part of the East
(with the exception of Alexandria) was as numerous as here, Antioch
numbered amongst its population a considerable number of native
Syrians, speaking Syriac.[12.11] These natives composed a low class,
inhabiting the suburbs of the great city and the populous villages
which formed a vast suburb[12.12] all around it, Charandama, Ghisira,
Gaudigura, and Apate (chiefly Syrian names).[12.13] Marriages between
the Syrians and the Greeks were common. Seleucus having formerly
made naturalization a legal obligation binding on every stranger
establishing himself in the city, Antioch, at the end of three
centuries and a half of its existence, became one of the places in
the world where race was most intermingled with race. The degradation
of the people there was terrible. The peculiarity of these focuses of
moral putrefaction is, to reduce all the races of mankind to the same
level. The degradation of certain Levantine cities, dominated by the
spirit of intrigue, delivered up entirely to low cunning, can scarce
give us a conception of the degree of corruption reached by the human
race at Antioch. It was an inconceivable medley of merry-andrews,
quacks, buffoons,[12.14] magicians, miracle-mongers, sorcerers,{12.15}
priests, impostors; a city of races, games, dances, processions,
fêtes, debauches, of unbridled luxury, of all the follies of the East,
of the most unhealthy superstitions, and of the fanaticism of the
orgy.[12.16] By turns servile and ungrateful, cowardly and insolent,
the people of Antioch were the perfect model of those crowds devoted
to Cæsarism, without country, without nationality, without family
honor, without a name to keep. The great _Corso_ which traversed
the city was like a theatre, where rolled, day after day, the waves
of a trifling, light-headed, changeable, insurrection-loving[12.17]
populace--a populace sometimes _spirituel_,[12.18] occupied with
songs, parodies, squibs, impertinence of all sorts.[12.19] The city
was very literary,[12.20] but literary only in the literature of
rhetoricians.{12.21} The sights were strange; there were some games
in which bands of naked young girls took part in all the exercises,
with a mere fillet around them;[12.22] at the celebrated festival of
Näiouma, troupes of courtezans swarmed in public in basins[12.23]
filled with limpid water.[12.24] This fête was like an intoxication,
like a dream of Sardanapalus, where all the pleasures, all the
debaucheries, not excluding some of a more delicate kind, were
unrolled pell-mell. This river of dirt, which, making its exit by the
mouth of the Orontes, was about to invade Rome,[12.25] had here its
principal sources. Two hundred decurions were employed in regulating
the religious ceremonies and celebrations.[12.26] The municipality
possessed great public domains, the rents of which the decemvirs
divided between the poor citizens.[12.27] Like all cities of pleasure,
Antioch had a lowest section of the people, living on the public or
on sordid gains. The beauty of works of art and the infinite charm
of nature[12.28] prevented this moral degradation from degenerating
entirely into ugliness and vulgarity. The site of Antioch is one of
the most picturesque in the world. The city occupied the interval
between the Orontes and the slopes of Mount Silpius, one of the spurs
of Mount Casius. Nothing could equal the abundance and beauty of the
waters.[12.29] The fortified space, climbing up perpendicular rocks,
by a real master-work of military architecture,[12.30] inclosed the
summit of the mountains, and formed with the rocks at a tremendous
height an indented crown of marvellous effect. This disposition
of their ramparts, uniting the advantage of the ancient acropoles
with those of the great walled cities, was in general preferred by
the Generals of Alexander, as one sees in the Pierian Seleucia, in
Ephesus, in Smyrna, in Thessalonica. The result was various astonishing
perspectives. Antioch had within its walls mountains seven hundred feet
in height, perpendicular rocks, torrents, precipices, deep ravines,
cascades, inaccessible caves; in the midst of all these, delicious
gardens.[12.31] A thick wood of myrtles, of flowering box, of laurels,
of plants always green--and of the most tender green--rocks carpeted
with pinks, with hyacinth, and cyclamens, give to these wild heights
the aspect of gardens hung in the air. The variety of the flowers,
the freshness of the turf, composed of an incredible number of minute
grasses, the beauty of the plane trees which border the Orontes,
inspire the gaiety, the tinge of sweet scent with which the beautiful
genius of Chrysostom, Libanus, and Julian is, as it were, intoxicated.
On the right bank of the river stretches a vast plain bordered on one
side by the Amanus, and the oddly truncated mountains of Pieria; on
the other side by the plateaus of Chyrrestica,[12.32] behind which
is hidden the dangerous neighborhood of the Arab and the desert. The
valley of the Orontes, which opens to the west, brings this interior
basin into communication with the sea, or rather with the vast world in
the bosom of which the Mediterranean has constituted from all time a
sort of neutral highway and federal bond.

Amongst the different colonies which the liberal ordinances of the
Seleucidæ had attracted to the capital of Syria, that of the Jews was
one of the most numerous;[12.33] it dated from the time of Seleucus
Nicator, and was governed by the same laws as the Greeks.[12.34]
Although the Jews had an ethnarch of their own, their relations with
the pagans were very frequent. Here, as at Alexandria, these relations
often degenerated into quarrels and aggressions.[12.35] On the other
hand, they afforded a field for an active religious propagandism. The
polytheism of the officials becoming more and more insufficient to
meet the wants of serious persons, the Grecian and Jewish philosophies
attracted all those whom the vain pomps of paganism could not satisfy.
The number of proselytes was considerable. From the first days of
Christianity, Antioch had furnished to the Church of Jerusalem one of
its most influential members, viz. Nicolas, one of the deacons.[12.36]
There existed there promising germs, which only waited for a ray of
grace to burst forth into bloom and bear the most excellent fruits
which had hitherto been produced.

The church of Antioch owed its foundation to some original
believers from Cyprus and Cyrene, who had already been zealous in
preaching.[12.37] Up to this time they had only addressed themselves
to the Jews. But in a city where pure Jews--Jews who were proselytes,
"people fearing God"--or half-Jews, half-pagans and pure pagans, lived
together,[12.38] confined preachings, restricted to a group of houses,
became impossible. That feeling of religious aristocracy on which the
Jews of Jerusalem so much prided themselves, had no existence in these
large cities, where civilization was altogether of the profane sort,
where the atmosphere was more expanded, and where prejudices were
less firmly rooted. The Cypriot and Cyrenian missionaries were then
constrained to depart from their rule. They preached to the Jews and to
the Greeks indifferently.{12.39}

The reciprocal dispositions of the Jewish and of the pagan population
appeared at this time to have been very unsatisfactory.[12.40] But
circumstances of another kind probably subserved the new ideas. The
earthquake, which had done serious damage to the city on 23d March, of
the year 37, still occupied their minds. The whole city was talking
about an impostor named Debborius, who pretended to prevent the
recurrence of such accidents by ridiculous talismans.[12.41] This
sufficed to direct preoccupied minds towards supernatural matters.
However that may have been, great was the success of the Christian
preaching. A young, innovating, and ardent Church, full of the future,
because it was composed of the most diverse elements, was quickly
founded. All the gifts of the Holy Spirit were there poured out, and it
was then easy to perceive that this new Church, emancipated from the
strict Mosaism which traced an irrefragable circle around Jerusalem,
would become the second cradle of Christianity. Assuredly, Jerusalem
will remain for ever the capital of the Christian world; nevertheless,
the point of departure of the church of the Gentiles, the primal focus
of Christian missions, was, in truth, Antioch. It is there, for the
first time, that a Christian church was established, divorced from
the bonds of Judaism; it is there that the great propaganda of the
Apostolic age was established; it was there that St. Paul assumed a
definite character. Antioch marks the second halting-place of the
progress of Christianity, and in respect of Christian nobility, neither
Rome, nor Alexandria, nor Constantinople can be at all compared with it.

The topography of ancient Antioch is so effaced that we should search
in vain over its site, nearly destitute as it is of any vestiges of the
antique, for the point to which to attach such grand recollections.
Here, as everywhere, Christianity was, doubtless, established in
the poor quarters of the city and among the petty tradesfolk. The
basilica, which is called "the old" and "apostolic"{12.42} to the
fourteenth century, was situated in the street called Singon, near the
Pantheon.[12.43] But no one knows where this Pantheon was. Tradition
and certain vague analogies induced us to search the primitive
Christian quarter alongside the gate, which even to-day is still called
Paul's gate, _Bâb-bolos_,[12.44] and at the foot of the mountain, named
by Procopius _Stavrin_, which overlooks the south-west coast from the
ramparts of Antioch.[12.45] It was one of the quarters of the town
which least abounded in pagan monuments. There we saw the remains of
ancient sanctuaries dedicated to St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. John.
There appeared to have been the quarter where Christianity was longest
maintained after the Mohammedan conquest. There too, as it appeared,
was the quarter of "the saints," in opposition to the general profanity
of Antioch. The rock is honeycombed like a beehive, with grottoes
formerly used by the Anchorites. When one walks on these steeply cut
declivities, where, about the fourth century, the good Stylites,
disciples at once of India and of Galilee, of Jesus and of Cakya-Mouni,
disdainfully contemplated the voluptuous city from the summit of their
pillar or from their flower-adorned cavern,[12.46] it is probable
that one is not far from the very spots where Peter and Paul dwelt.
The Church of Antioch is the one whose history is most authentic and
least encumbered with fables. Christian tradition, in a city where
Christianity was perpetuated with so much vigor, ought to possess
some value. The prevailing language of the Church of Antioch was the
Greek. It is, however, quite probable that the suburbs where Syriac
was spoken furnished a number of converts to the sect. In consequence,
Antioch already contained the germ of two rival and, at a later period,
hostile Churches, the one speaking Greek, and now represented by the
Syrian Greeks, whether orthodox or Catholics; the other, whose actual
representatives are the Maronites, having previously spoken Syriac and
guarding it still as if it were a sacred tongue. The Maronites, who
under their entirely modern Catholicism conceal a high antiquity, are
probably the last descendants of those Syrians anterior to Seleucus,
of those suburbans or _pagani_ of Ghisra, Charandama, etc.,[12.47] who
from the first ages became a separate Church, were persecuted by the
orthodox emperors as heretics, and escaped into the Libanus,[12.48]
or, from hatred of the Grecian Church and in consequence of deeper
sympathies, allied themselves with the Latins.

As to the converted Jews at Antioch, they were also very
numerous.[12.49] But we must believe that they accepted from the very
first a fraternal alliance with the Gentiles.[12.50] It was then on the
shores of the Orontes that the religious fusion of races, dreamed of by
Jesus, or to speak more fully, by six centuries of prophets, became a
reality.




                             CHAPTER XIII.

           THE IDEA OF AN APOSTOLATE TO THE GENTILES.--SAINT
                               BARNABAS.


Great was the excitement at Jerusalem[13.1] on hearing what had passed
at Antioch. Notwithstanding the kindly wishes of a few of the principal
members of the Church of Jerusalem, Peter in particular, the Apostolic
College continued to be influenced by mean and unworthy ideas. On every
occasion when they heard that the good news had been announced to the
heathen, these veteran Christians manifested signs of disappointment.
The man who this time triumphed over this miserable jealousy, and who
prevented the narrow exclusiveness of the "Hebrews" from ruining the
future of Christianity, was Barnabas. He was the most enlightened
member of the Church at Jerusalem. He was the chief of the liberal and
progressive party, and wished the Church to be open to all. Already he
had powerfully contributed to remove the mistrust with which Paul was
regarded; and this time, also, he excited a marked influence. Sent as a
delegate of the apostolical body to Antioch, he examined and approved
of all that had been done, and declared that the new Church had only
to continue in the course upon which it had entered. Conversions were
effected in great numbers. The vital and creative force of Christianity
appeared to be concentrated at Antioch. Barnabas, whose zeal always
inclined to action, resided there. Antioch thenceforth is his Church,
and it is thence that he exercised his most influential and important
ministry. Christianity has always done injustice to this man in not
placing him in the first rank of her founders. Barnabas was the patron
of all good and liberal ideas. His intelligent boldness often served
to neutralize the obstinacy of the narrow-minded Jews who formed the
conservative party of Jerusalem.

A magnificent idea germinated in this noble heart at Antioch. Paul
was at Tarsus in a forced repose, which to an active man like him,
was a perfect torture. His false position, his haughtiness, and his
exaggerated pretensions, had neutralized many of his other and better
qualities. He was uselessly wearing his life away; Barnabas knew how
to apply to its true work that force which was corroding Paul in his
unhealthy and dangerous solitude. For the second time, Barnabas took
the hand of Paul, and led this savage character into the society of
those brethren whom he avoided. He went himself to Tarsus, sought
him out, and brought him to Antioch.[13.2] He did that which those
obstinate old brethren of Jerusalem were never able to do. To win over
this great, reticent, and susceptible soul; to accommodate oneself to
the caprices and whims of a man full of fiery excitement, but very
personal; to take a secondary part under him, and forgetful of oneself,
to prepare the field of operations for the most favorable display of
his abilities--all this is certainly the very climax of virtue; and
this is what Barnabas did for Paul. Most of the glory which has accrued
to the latter is really due to the modest man who led him forward,
brought his merits to light, prevented more than once his faults from
resulting deplorably to himself and his cause, and the illiberal
views of others from exciting him to revolt; and also prevented his
insignificant and unworthy personalities from interfering with the work
of God.

During an entire year Barnabas and Paul co-operated actively.[13.3]
This was without doubt a most brilliant and happy year in the life
of Paul. The prolific originality of these two great men raised the
Church of Antioch to a degree of grandeur to which no Christian Church
had previously attained. Few places in the world had experienced more
intellectual activity than the capital of Syria. During the Roman
epoch, as in our time, social and religious questions were brought
to the surface principally at the centres of population. A sort of
reaction against the general immorality which later made Antioch the
special abode of stylites and hermits[13.4] was already felt; and the
true doctrine thus found in this city more favorable conditions for
success than it had yet met.

An important circumstance proves besides, that it was at Antioch that
the sect for the first time had full consciousness of its existence;
for it was in this city that it received a distinct name. Hitherto its
adherents had called themselves "believers," "the faithful," "saints,"
"brothers," or disciples; but the sect had no public and official name.
It was at Antioch that the title of _Christianus_ was devised.[13.5]
The termination of the word is Latin, not Greek, which would indicate
that it was selected by the Roman authority as an appellation of the
police[13.6] like _Herodiani_, _Pompeiani_, _Cæsariani_.[13.7] In
any event it is certain that such a name was formed by the heathen
population. It included a misapprehension, for it implied that
_Christus_, a translation of the Hebrew _Maschiah_ (the Messiah), was a
proper name.[13.8] Not a few of those who were unfamiliar with Jewish
or Christian ideas, by this name were led to believe that _Christus_
or _Chrestus_ was a sectarian leader yet living.[13.9] The vulgar
pronunciation of the name indeed was _Chrestiani_.[13.10]

The Jews did not adopt in a regular manner, at least,[13.11] the name
given by the Romans to their schismatic co-religionists. They continued
to call the new converts "Nazarenes" or "Nazorenes,"[13.12] undoubtedly
because they were accustomed to call Jesus Han-nasri or Han-nosri, "the
Nazarene;" and even unto the present day this name is still applied to
them throughout the entire East.[13.13]

This was a most important moment. Solemn indeed was the hour when the
new creation received its name, for that name is the direct symbol of
its existence. It is by its name that an individual or a community
really becomes itself as distinct from others. The formation of
the word "Christian" also marks the precise date of the separation
from Judaism of the Church of Jesus. For a long time to come the
two religions will be confounded; but this confusion will only take
place in those countries where the spread of Christianity is slow
and backward. The sect quickly accepted the appellation which was
applied to it, and viewed it as a title of honor.[13.14] It is really
astonishing to reflect that ten years after the death of Jesus His
religion had already in the capital of Syria, a name in the Greek and
Latin tongues. Christianity is now completely weaned from its mother's
breast; the true sentiments of Jesus have triumphed over the indecision
of its first disciples; the Church of Jerusalem is left behind; the
Aramaic language, in which Jesus spoke, is unknown to a portion of
His followers; Christianity speaks Greek; and the new sect is finally
launched into that great vortex of the Greek and Roman world, whence it
will never issue.

The feverish activity of ideas manifested by this young Church
was truly extraordinary. Great spiritual manifestations were
frequent.[13.15] All believed themselves to be inspired in different
ways. Some were "prophets," others "teachers."[13.16] Barnabas, as his
name indicates,[13.17] was undoubtedly among the prophets. Paul had
no special title. Among the leaders of the church at Antioch may also
be mentioned Simeon, surnamed _Niger_, Lucius of Cirene, and Menahem,
who had been the foster-brother of Herod Antipas, and was naturally
quite old.[13.18] All these personages were Jews. Among the converted
heathen was, perhaps, already that Evhode, who, at a certain period,
seems to have occupied a leading place in the Church of Antioch.[13.19]
Undoubtedly the heathen who heard the first preaching were slightly
inferior, and did not shine in the public exercises of using unknown
tongues, of preaching, and prophecy. In the midst of the congenial
society of Antioch, Paul quickly adapted himself to the order of
things. Later, he manifested opposition to the use of tongues,{13.20}
and it is probable that he never practised it; but he had many visions
and immediate revelations.[13.21] It was apparently at Antioch{13.22}
that occurred that ecstatic trance which he describes in these terms:
"I knew a man in Christ above fourteen years ago (whether in the body I
cannot tell; or whether out of the body, I cannot tell--God knoweth).
Such an one was caught up to the third heaven.[13.23] And I knew such
a man (whether in the body or out of the body I cannot tell--God
knoweth), how that he was caught up into paradise[13.24] and heard
unspeakable words which it is not lawful for a man to utter."[13.25]
Paul, though in general sober and practical, shared the prevalent ideas
of the day in regard to the supernatural. Like so many others, he
believed that he possessed the power of working miracles;[13.26] it was
impossible that the gift of the Holy Spirit, which was acknowledged to
be the common right of the Church,[13.27] should be denied to him.

But men permeated with so lively a faith cannot content themselves
with merely exuberant piety, but pant for action. The idea of great
missions, destined to convert the heathen, and beginning in Asia
Minor, seized hold of the public mind. Had such an idea been formed
at Jerusalem, it could not have been realized, because the Church
there was without pecuniary resources. An extensive establishment of
propagandism requires a solid capital to work on. Now, the common
treasury at Jerusalem was devoted to the support of the poor, and was
frequently insufficient for that purpose; and to save these noble
mendicants from dying with hunger, it was necessary to obtain help from
all quarters.[13.28] Communism had created at Jerusalem an irremediable
poverty and a thorough incapacity for great enterprises. The Church
at Antioch was exempt from such a calamity. The Jews in the profane
cities had attained to affluence, and in some cases had accumulated
vast fortunes.[13.29] The faithful were wealthy when they entered
the Church. Antioch furnished the pecuniary capital for the founding
of Christianity, and it is easy to imagine the total difference in
manner and spirit which this circumstance alone would create between
the two churches. Jerusalem remained the city of the poor of God, of
the _ebionim_ of those simple Galilean dreamers, intoxicated, as it
were, with the expectation of the kingdom of Heaven.[13.30] Antioch,
almost a stranger to the words of Jesus, which it had never heard, was
the church of action and of progress. Antioch was the city of Paul;
Jerusalem, the seat of the old apostolic college, wrapped up in its
dreamy fantasies, and unequal to the new problems which were opening,
but dazzled by its incomparable privileges, and rich in its unsurpassed
recollections.

A certain circumstance soon brought all these traits into bold relief.
So great was the lack of forethought in this half-starved Church of
Jerusalem, that the least accident threw the community into distress.
Now in a country, destitute of economic organization, where commerce
is almost without development, and where the sources of welfare are
limited, famines are inevitable. A terrible one occurred in the reign
of Claudius, in the year 44.[13.31] When its threatening symptoms
appeared, the veterans at Jerusalem decided to seek succor from the
members of the richer churches of Syria. An embassy of prophets was
sent from Jerusalem to Antioch.[13.32] One of them, named Agab, who was
in high reputation for his prophetic powers, was suddenly inspired, and
announced that the famine was now at hand. The faithful were deeply
moved at the evils which menaced the mother Church, to which they still
deemed themselves tributary. A collection was made, at which every
one gave according to his means, and Barnabas was selected to carry
the funds obtained to the brethren in Judea.[13.33] Jerusalem for a
long time remained the capital of Christianity. There were centred the
objects peculiar to the faith, and there only were the apostles.[13.34]
But a great forward step had been taken. For several years there had
been only one completely organized Church, that of Jerusalem--the
absolute centre of the faith, the heart from which all life proceeded
and through which it circulated; but it no longer maintained this
monopoly. The church at Antioch was now a perfect church. It possessed
all the hierarchy of the gifts of the Holy Ghost. It was the
starting-point of the missions,[13.35] and their head-quarters.[13.36]
It was a second capital, or rather a second heart, which had its own
proper action, exercising its force and influence in every direction.

It is easy to foresee that the second capital must soon eclipse the
first. The decay of the church at Jerusalem was, indeed, rapid. It is
natural that institutions founded on communism should enjoy at the
beginning a period of brilliancy, for communism involves high mental
exaltation; and it is equally natural that such institutions should
very quickly degenerate, because communism is contrary to the instincts
of human nature. During a moment of great religious excitement, a
man readily believes that he can entirely sacrifice his selfish
individuality and his peculiar interests; but egotism has its revenge,
in proving that absolute disinterestedness engenders evils more serious
than by the suppression of individual rights in property it had hoped
to avoid.




                              CHAPTER XIV.

                PERSECUTION OF HEROD AGRIPPA THE FIRST.


Barnabas found the Church of Jerusalem in great trouble. The year 44
was perilous to it. Besides the famine, the fires of persecution which
had been smothered since the death of Stephen were rekindled.

Herod Agrippa, grandson of Herod the Great, had succeeded, since the
year 41, in reconstituting the kingdom of his grandfather. Thanks to
the favor of Caligula, he had reunited under his domination Batania,
Trachonites, a part of the Hauran, Cibilene, Galilee, and the
Persea.[14.1] The ignoble part which he played in the tragi-comedy
which raised Claudius to the empire,[14.2] completed his fortune. This
vile Oriental, in return for the lessons of baseness and perfidy he
had given to Rome, obtained for himself Samaria and Judea, and for his
brother Herod the kingdom of Chalcis.[14.3] He had left at Rome the
worst memories, and the cruelties of Caligula were attributed in part
to his counsels.[14.4] The army and the pagan cities of Sebaste and
Cesarea, which he sacrificed to Jerusalem, were averse to him.[14.5]
But the Jews found him to be generous, munificent, and sympathetic.
He sought to render himself popular with them, and affected a polity
quite different from that of Herod the Great. The latter was much
more regardful of the Greek and Roman world than of the Jewish. Herod
Agrippa, on the contrary, loved Jerusalem, rigorously observed the
Jewish religion, affected scrupulousness, and never let a day pass
without attending to his devotions.[14.6] He went so far as to receive
with mildness the advice of the rigorists, and took the trouble to
justify himself from their reproaches.[14.7] He returned to the
Hierosolymites the tribute which each house owed to him.[14.8] The
orthodox, in a word, had in him a king according to their own heart.

It was inevitable that a prince of this character should persecute the
Christians. Sincere or not, Herod Agrippa was, in the most thorough
sense of the word, a Jewish Sovereign.[14.9] The house of Herod, as it
became weaker, took to devotion. It was no longer that broad profane
idea of the founder of the dynasty, seeking to make the most diverse
religions live together under the common empire of civilization. When
Herod Agrippa, for the first time after he had become king, set foot
in Alexandria, it was as a King of the Jews that he was received; it
was this title which irritated the population and gave rise to endless
buffooneries.[14.10] Now what could a King of the Jews be, if not the
guardian of the laws and the traditions, a sovereign theocrat and
persecutor? From the time of Herod the Great, under whom fanaticism
was entirely repressed, until the breaking out of the war which led to
the ruin of Jerusalem, there was thus a constantly augmenting progress
of religious ardor. The death of Caligula (24th Jan., 41) had produced
a reaction favorable to the Jews. Claudius was generally benevolent
towards them,[14.11] as a result of the favorable ear he lent to Herod
Agrippa and Herod King of Chalcis. Not only did he decide in favor of
the Jews of Alexandria in their quarrels with the inhabitants and allow
them the right of choosing an ethnarch, but he published, it is said,
an edict by which he granted to the Jews throughout the whole empire
that which he had granted to those of Alexandria; that is to say, the
freedom to live according to their own laws, on the sole condition of
not outraging other worships. Some attempts at vexations analogous
to those which were inflicted under Caligula were repressed.[14.12]
Jerusalem was greatly enlarged; the quarter of Bezetha was added
to the city.[14.13] The Roman authority scarcely made itself felt,
although Vibius Marsus, a prudent man, of wide public experience, and
of a very cultivated mind,[14.14] who had succeeded Publius Petronius
in the function of imperial legate of Syria, drew the attention of
the authorities at Rome from time to time to the danger of these
semi-independent Eastern Kingdoms.[14.15]

The species of feudality which, since the death of Tiberius, tended to
establish itself in Syria and the neighboring countries,[14.16] was in
fact an interruption in the imperial polity, and had almost uniformly
injurious results. The "Kings" coming to Rome were personages, and
exercised there a detestable influence. The corruption and abasement
of the people, especially under Caligula, proceeded in great part from
the spectacle furnished by these wretches, who were seen successively
dragging their purple at the theatre, at the palace of the Cæsar, and
in the prisons.[14.17] So far as concerns the Jews, we have seen{14.18}
that autonomy meant intolerance. The Sovereign Pontificate quitted for
a moment the family of Hanan, only to enter that of Boethus, no less
haughty and cruel. A Sovereign anxious to please the Jews could not
fail to grant them what they loved best; that is to say, severities
against everything which diverged from rigorous orthodoxy.[14.19]

Herod Agrippa, in fact, became towards the end of his reign a violent
persecutor.[14.20] Some time before Easter of the year 44, he cut off
the head of one of the principal members of the apostolical college,
James son of Zebedee, brother of John. The matter was not presented
as a religious one; there was no inquisitorial process before the
Sanhedrim; the sentence, as in the case of John the Baptist,[14.21]
was pronounced by virtue of the arbitrary power of the sovereign.
Encouraged by the good effect which this execution produced upon the
Jews,[14.22] Herod Agrippa was not willing to stop upon so easy a
road to popularity. It was the first days of the feast of Passover,
ordinarily marked by a redoubled fanaticism. Agrippa ordered the
imprisonment of Peter in the tower of Antonia, and sought to have him
judged and put to death with great pomp before the mass of people then
assembled.

A circumstance with which we are unacquainted, and which was regarded
as miraculous, opened Peter's prison. One evening, as many of the
disciples were assembled in the house of Mary, mother of John-Mark,
where Peter habitually dwelt, there was suddenly heard a knock at the
door. The servant, named Rhoda, went to listen. She recognised Peter's
voice. Transported with joy, instead of opening the door she ran
back to announce that Peter was there. They regarded her as mad. She
swore she spoke the truth. "It is his angel," said some of them. The
knocking was heard repeatedly; it was indeed himself. Their delight was
infinite. Peter immediately announced his deliverance to James, brother
of the Lord, and to the other disciples. It was believed that the
angel of God had entered into the prison of the apostle and made the
chains fall from his hands and the bolts fly open. Peter related, in
fact, all that had passed while he was in a sort of ecstasy; that after
having passed the first and second guard, and overleaped the iron gate
which led into the city, the angel accompanied him still the distance
of a street, then quitted him; that then he came to himself again and
recognised the hand of God, who had sent a celestial messenger to
deliver him.[14.23]

Agrippa survived these violences but a short time.[14.24] In the
course of the year 44, he went to Cesarea to celebrate games in honor
of Claudius. The concourse of people was extraordinary; and many from
Tyre and Sidon, who had difficulties with him, came thither to ask
pardon. These festivals were very displeasing to the Jews, both because
they took place in the impure city of Cesarea, and because they were
held in the theatre. Already, on one occasion, the king having quitted
Jerusalem under similar circumstances, a certain Rabbi Simeon had
proposed to declare him an alien to Judaism, and to exclude him from
the temple. Herod Agrippa had carried his condescension so far as to
place the Rabbi beside him in the theatre, in order to prove to him
that nothing passed there contrary to the law,[14.25] and thinking he
had thus satisfied the most austere, he allowed himself to indulge his
taste for profane pomps. The second day of the festival he entered the
theatre very early in the morning, clothed in a tunic of silver fabric,
with a marvellous brilliancy. The effect of this tunic, glittering
in the rays of the rising sun, was extraordinary. The Phœnicians
who surrounded the king lavished upon him adulations borrowed from
paganism. "It is a god," they cried, "and not a man." The king did
not testify his indignation, and did not blame this expression. He
died five days afterwards; and Jews and Christians believed that he
was struck dead for not having repelled with horror a blasphemous
flattery. Christian tradition represents that he died of a vermicular
malady,[14.26] the punishment reserved for the enemies of God. The
symptoms related by Josephus would lead rather to the belief that he
was poisoned; and what is said in the Acts of the equivocal conduct
of the Phœnicians, and of the care they took to gain over Blastus,
valet of the king, would strengthen this hypothesis.

The death of Herod Agrippa I. led to the end of all independence
for Jerusalem. The administration by Procurators was resumed, and
this régime lasted until the great revolt. This was fortunate for
Christianity; for it is very remarkable that this religion, which
was destined to sustain subsequently so terrible a struggle against
the Roman empire, grew up in the shadow of the Roman principality,
under its protection. It was Rome, as we have already several times
remarked, which hindered Judaism from giving itself up fully to its
intolerant instincts, and stifling the free instincts which were
stirred within its bosom. Every diminution of Jewish authority was a
benefit for the nascent sect. Cuspius Fadus, the first of this new
series of Procurators, was another Pilate, full of firmness, or at
least of good-will. But Claudius continued to show himself favorable
to Jewish pretensions, chiefly at the instigation of the young Herod
Agrippa, son of Herod Agrippa I., whom he kept near to his person, and
whom he greatly loved.[14.27] After the short administration of Cuspius
Fadus, we find the functions of Procurator confided to a Jew, to that
Tiberius Alexander, nephew of Philo, and son of the _alabarque_ of the
Alexandrian Jews who attained to high functions and played a great part
in the political affairs of the century. It is true that the Jews did
not like him; and regarded him, and with reason, as an apostate.[14.28]

To cut short these incessantly renewed disputes, recourse was had to an
expedient in conformity with sound principles. A sort of separation was
made between the spiritual and temporal. The political power remained
with the procurators; but Herod, king of Chalcis, brother of Agrippa
I., was named prefect of the temple, guardian of the pontifical habits,
treasurer of the sacred fund, and invested with the right of nominating
the high-priests.[14.29] At his death (year 48), Herod Agrippa II.,
son of Herod Agrippa I., succeeded his uncle in his offices, which he
retained until the great war. Claudius, in all this, manifested the
greatest kindness. The high Roman functionaries in Syria, although not
so strongly disposed as the emperor to concessions, acted with great
moderation. The procurator, Ventidius Cumanus, carried condescension
so far as to have a soldier beheaded in the midst of the Jews, drawn
up in line, for having torn a copy of the Pentateuch.[14.30] It was
all useless, however; Josephus, with good reason, dates from the
administration of Cumanus the disorders which ended only with the
destruction of Jerusalem.

Christianity played no part in these troubles.[14.31] But these
troubles, like Christianity itself, were one of the symptoms of the
extraordinary fever which devoured the Jewish people, and the Divine
travail which was accomplishing in its midst. Never had the Jewish
faith made such progress.[14.32] The temple of Jerusalem was one of
the sanctuaries of the world, the reputation of which was most widely
extended, and where the offerings were most liberal.[14.33] Judaism had
become the dominant religion of various portions of Syria. The Asmonean
princes had violently converted entire populations to it (Idumeans,
Itureans, etc.).[14.34] There were many examples of circumcision having
been imposed by force;[14.35] the ardor for making proselytes was very
great.[14.36] The house of Herod itself powerfully served the Jewish
propaganda. In order to marry princesses of this family, whose wealth
was immense, the princes of the little dynasties of Emese, of Pontus,
and of Cilicia, vassals of the Romans, became Jews.[14.37] Arabia and
Ethiopia counted also a great number of converts. The royal families
of Mesene and of Adiabene, tributaries of the Parthians, were gained
over, especially by their women.[14.38] It was generally granted that
happiness was found in the knowledge and practice of the law.[14.39]
Even when circumcision was not practised, religion was more or less
modified in the Jewish direction; a sort of monotheism became the
general spirit of religion in Syria. At Damascus, a city which was in
nowise of Israelitish origin, nearly all the women had adopted the
Jewish religion.[14.40] Behind the Pharisaical Judaism there was thus
formed a sort of free Judaism, of inferior quality, not knowing all the
secrets of the sect;[14.41] bringing only its good-will and its good
heart, but having a greater future. The situation was, in all respects,
that of the Catholicism of our days, in which we see, on one hand,
narrow and proud theologians, who alone would gain no more souls for
Catholicism than the Pharisees gained for Judaism; on the other, pious
laymen, very often heretics without knowing it, but full of a touching
zeal, rich in good works and in poetical sentiments, altogether
occupied in dissimulating or repairing by complaisant explanations the
faults of their doctors.

One of the most extraordinary examples of this tendency of religious
souls towards Judaism was that given by the royal family of
Adiabene, upon the Tiger.[14.42] This house, of Persian origin and
manners,[14.43] already partly initiated into Greek culture,[14.44]
became entirely Jewish, and even preëminently devout; for, as we
have already said, these proselytes were often more pious than the
Jews by birth. Izate, chief of the family, embraced Judaism through
the preaching of a Jewish merchant named Ananias, who, entering the
seraglio of Abermerig, king of Mesene, for the purposes of his petty
traffic, had converted all the women, and constituted himself their
spiritual preceptor. The women brought Izate into communication with
him. Towards the same time Helen, his mother, received instruction
in the true religion from another Jew. Izate, with the zeal of a
new convert, wished to be circumcised. But his mother and Ananias
vehemently dissuaded him from it. Ananias proved to him that the
observation of God's commandments was of more importance than
circumcision, and that he might be a very good Jew without this
ceremony. Such a tolerance was the privilege of a small number of
enlightened minds. Some time after, a Jew of Galilee, named Eleazar,
finding the king occupied in reading the Pentateuch, showed him by
texts that he could not observe the law without being circumcised.
Izate was convinced, and submitted immediately to the operation.[14.45]

The conversion of Izate was followed by that of his brother, Monobaze,
and of all the family. Towards the year 44, Helen came and established
herself at Jerusalem, where she had built for the royal house of
Adiabene a palace and family mausoleum, which still exist.[14.46] She
rendered herself dear to the Jews by her affability and her alms.
It was very edifying to see her, like a pious Jewess, frequenting
the temple, consulting the doctors, reading the law, teaching it to
her sons. During the plague of the year 44, this holy personage was
the providence of the city. She had a large quantity of wheat bought
in Egypt, and of dried figs in Cyprus. Izate, on his part, sent
considerable sums to be distributed among the poor. The wealth of
Adiabene was in part expended at Jerusalem. The sons of Izate came
thither to learn the customs and the language of the Jews. All this
family was thus the resource of this population of beggars. It acquired
there a sort of citizenship; several of its members were found there at
the time of the siege of Titus;[14.47] others figure in the Talmudic
writings, presented as models of piety and devotedness.[14.48]

It is thus that the royal family of Adiabene belongs to the history of
Christianity. Without being Christian, in fact, as certain traditions
have represented,[14.49] this family represented under various aspects
the first fruits of the Gentiles. In embracing Judaism, it obeyed a
sentiment which was destined to bring over the entire pagan world
to Christianity. The true Israelites according to God, were much
rather these foreigners animated by so profoundly sincere a religious
sentiment than the arrogant and spiteful Pharisee, for whom religion
was but a pretext for hatred and disdain. These good proselytes,
although they were truly saints, were in nowise fanatics. They admitted
that true religion might be practised under the empire of the most
widely differing civil codes. They completely separated religion from
politics. The distinction between the seditious sectaries, who must
presently defend Jerusalem with rage, and the devoutly pious who, at
the first rumor of war, were going to flee to the mountains,[14.50]
made itself more and more manifest.

We may see at least that the question as to proselytes was propounded
in a very similar manner at once in Judaism and in Christianity. On
both hands alike the void was felt for enlarging the door of entrance.
For those who were placed at this point of view, circumcision was a
useless or noxious custom; the Mosaic observances were simply a mask
of a race having no value but for the sons of Abraham. Before becoming
the universal religion, Judaism was obliged to reduce itself to a
sort of deism, imposing only the duties of natural religion. That was
a sublime mission to fulfil, and to it a portion of Judaism, in the
first half of the first century, lent itself in a very intelligent
manner. On one side, Judaism was one of those innumerable national
worships[14.51] of which the world is full, and the sanctity of which
springs solely from the fact that the ancestors had adored in the same
way; on another side, Judaism was the absolute religion, made for all,
destined to be adopted by all. The terrible flood of fanaticism which
spread over Judea, and which led to the war of extermination, cut short
this future. It was Christianity which took upon its own account the
task which the synagogue had been unable to accomplish. Laying aside
ritual questions, Christianity continued the monotheistic propaganda of
Judaism. That which had caused the success of Judaism with the women
of Damascus in the seraglio of Abenverig, with Helen, with so many
pious proselytes, became the force of Christianity throughout an entire
world. In this sense the glory of Christianity is truly confounded with
that of Judaism. A generation of fanatics deprived this latter of its
recompense, and hindered its gathering the harvest it had prepared.




                              CHAPTER XV.

       MOVEMENTS PARALLEL TO AND IMITATIVE OF CHRISTIANITY--SIMON
                               OF GITTO.


We have now arrived at a period when Christianity may be said to
have become established. In the history of religions it is only the
earliest years during which their existence is precarious. If a creed
can triumphantly pass through the severe ordeals which await every
new system, its future is assured. With sounder judgment than other
cotemporary sects, such as the Essenes, the Baptists, and the followers
of Judas the Gaulonite, who clung to and perished with the Jewish
institutions, the founders of Christianity displayed rare prevision
in going forth at an early period to disseminate and root their new
opinions over the broad expanse of the Gentile world. The meagreness
of the allusions to Christianity which are found in Josephus, in the
Talmud, and in the Greek and Latin writers, need not surprise us.
Josephus is transmitted to us by Christian copyists, who have omitted
everything uncomplimentary to their faith. It is possible that he wrote
more at length concerning Jesus and the Christians than is preserved
in the edition which has been handed down to us. The Talmud in like
manner, during the Middle Age, and after its first publication,
underwent much abridgment and alteration.[15.1] This resulted from
the severe criticisms of the text by Christian writers, and from the
burning of a number of unlucky Jews who were found in possession of a
work containing what were considered blasphemous passages. As to the
Greek and Latin writers, it is not surprising that they paid little
attention to a movement which they could not comprehend, and which
was going on within a narrow space foreign to them. Christianity was
lost to their vision upon the dark background of Judaism. It was
only a family quarrel amongst the subjects of a degraded nation;
why trouble themselves about it? The two or three passages in which
Tacitus and Suetonius mention the Christians show that the new sect,
even if generally beyond the visual circle of full publicity, was,
notwithstanding, a prominent fact, since we are enabled at intervals to
catch a glimpse of it defining itself with considerable clearness of
outline through the mist of public inattention.

The relief of Christianity above the general level of Jewish history in
the first century has also been somewhat diminished, by the fact that
it was not the only movement of the kind. At the epoch we have arrived
at, Philo had finished his career, so wholly consecrated to the love of
virtue. The sect of Judas the Gaulonite still existed. This agitator
had left the perpetuation of his ideas to his sons, James, Simon, and
Menahem. The two former were crucified by command of the renegade
procurator Tiberius Alexander.[15.2] Menahem remained, and is destined
to play an important part in the final catastrophe of the nation.[15.3]
In the year 44, an enthusiast by the name of Theudas arose, announcing
the speedy deliverance of the Jews, calling on the people to follow him
to the desert, and promising like a second Joshua to cause them to pass
dry-shod across the Jordan.[15.4] This passage was, according to him,
the true baptism which should admit every believer into the kingdom
of God. More than four hundred persons followed him. The procurator
Cuspius Fadus sent out against him a troop of horse, which dispersed
his disciples and slew him.[15.5] A few years before this Samaria had
been stirred by the voice of a fanatic, who pretended to have had a
revelation of the spot on Mount Gerizim where Moses had concealed the
sacred instruments of worship. Pilate suppressed this movement with
great severity.[15.6]

In Jerusalem, tranquillity was at an end. From the arrival of the
procurator Ventidius Cumanus (A.D. 48), disturbances were
incessant. The excitement reached such a point that it became almost
impossible to live there; the most trifling occurrences brought about
explosions.[15.7] People everywhere felt a strange fermentation, a kind
of mysterious foreboding. Impostors sprang up on every side.[15.8]
That fearful scourge, the society of zealots or _sicarii_, began to
appear. Wretches armed with daggers mingled in the crowds, gave the
fatal thrust to their victims, and were the first to cry murder. Hardly
a day passed that some assassination of this kind was not told of.
An extraordinary terror spread around. Josephus speaks of the crimes
of the zealots as pure wickedness;[15.9] but it cannot be doubted
that they sprang in part from fanaticism.[15.10] It was to defend the
law and the testimony that these wretches drew the poniard. Whoever
was wanting in their view in one of the requirements of the law, was
judged and at once executed. They believed that in so doing they were
rendering a service most meritorious and pleasing to God.

Dreams like those of Theudas occurred everywhere. Men calling
themselves inspired, drew the people after them into the desert, under
the pretext of showing them by manifest signs that God was about to
deliver them. The Roman authorities exterminated the dupes of these
agitators in crowds.[15.11] An Egyptian Jew who came to Jerusalem
about the year 56, succeeded by his devices in drawing after him
thirty thousand persons, among whom were four thousand zealots. From
the desert he was going to lead them to the Mount of Olives, that they
might thence behold the walls of Jerusalem crumble at his command.
Felix, who was at that time procurator, marched against him, and
dispersed his band. The Egyptian escaped and was seen no more.[15.12]
But, as we see in a diseased body one malady succeed another, soon
afterwards there appeared here and there troops of magicians and
robbers, who openly excited the people to revolt, and threatened with
death those who should continue to obey the Roman authorities. Under
this pretext they murdered and pillaged the rich, burned villages, and
filled all Judea with the marks of their outrages.[15.13] A terrible
war seemed impending. A spirit of madness reigned everywhere, and the
imagination of the people was kept in a state bordering on lunacy.

It is not impossible that Theudas may have had an idea of imitating
the acts of Jesus and John the Baptist. At any rate such an imitation
is evident in the accounts of Simon of Gitto, if we may credit the
Christian traditions.[15.14] We have already encountered him in
communication with the apostles on the first mission of Philip to
Samaria. He attained his celebrity during the reign of the Emperor
Claudius.[15.15] His miracles were unquestioned, and all Samaria
regarded him as a supernatural being.[15.16]

Miracles were not, however, the only basis of his renown. He taught
a doctrine, it seems, of which it is difficult for us to acquire a
definite knowledge, in a treatise entitled "The Great Exposition,"
which is ascribed to him, and a few extracts from which have come
down to us, being probably only a modified expression of his
ideas.[15.17] During his sojourn at Alexandria, where he studied the
Grecian philosophy, he appears to have framed a system of syncretic
theology and allegorical exegesis, in many respects analogous to
that of Philo.[15.18] His system is not without sublimity. Sometimes
it reminds us of the Jewish Kabala, sometimes of the pantheistic
theories of Indian philosophy; and in other respects it resembles
that of the Buddhists and the Parsees.[15.19] The primal being is,
"He who is, has been, and shall be,"[15.20] _i.e._ the _Jah-veh_ of
the Samaritans, understood according to the etymological force of the
name, as the eternal and only Being, self-begotten, self-augmenting,
self-seeking, and self-finding--the father, mother, sister, spouse,
and son of himself.[15.21] In this infinite being, all things exist
potentially to all eternity; and pass into action and reality through
human conscience, reason, language, and science.[15.22] The universe
is explained either upon the basis of a hierarchy of abstract
principles like the Æons of Gnosticism and the Sephirotic tree of the
Kabala, or upon that of an order of angels apparently borrowed from
the Persian doctrine. Sometimes these abstractions are presented as
representations of physical and physiological facts. Elsewhere, the
"divine powers," considered as distinct substances, are realized in
successive incarnations, either in the male or female form, whose end
is the emancipation of those beings which are enslaved in the bonds
of material existence. The highest of these "Powers" is called "the
Great," which is the universal Providence, the intelligent soul of this
world.[15.23] It is masculine. Simon passed for an incarnation of this
spirit. In connexion with it is its feminine counterpart, "the Great
Thought." Accustomed to clothe his theories in a strange symbolism, and
to devise allegorical interpretations for the ancient writings both
sacred and profane, Simon, or whoever was the author of "The Great
Exposition," ascribed to this Divine existence the name of "Helena,"
thereby signifying that she was the object of universal pursuit, the
eternal cause of dispute among men, and that she avenged herself on her
enemies by depriving them of sight until the moment they consented to
recant;[15.24]--a strange theory, and one which, imperfectly understood
or designedly travestied, gave rise among the early Fathers of the
Church to the most puerile legends.[15.25] The acquaintance with Greek
literature possessed by the author of "The Great Exposition" is at all
events very remarkable. He contended that, rightly understood, the
heathen writings sufficed for the knowledge of all things.[15.26] His
broad eclecticism embraced all revelations, and sought to combine them
into one sole and universal system of accepted truths.

His plan was essentially quite similar to that of Valentinus, and
to the doctrines in regard to the Divine Persons which are found
in the fourth Gospel, in Philo, and in the Targums.[15.27] The
"Metatronos,"[15.28] which the Jews placed at the side of the Deity,
and almost in his bosom, strongly resembles "The Great Power." In
Samaritan theology we find a Great Angel, who presides over other
angels, and we find also a variety of manifestations or "Divine
Virtues," analogous to those of the Kabala.[15.29] It appears certain,
then, that Simon of Gitto was a theosophist of the type of Philo and
the Kabalists. Perhaps he may have come near to Christianity, but
certainly he did not attach himself to it in any defined way.

Whether he actually borrowed anything from the disciples of Jesus, is
difficult to decide. If "The Great Exposition" is the expression of his
ideas in any degree, it must be admitted that upon several points he is
in advance of the Christian ideas, and that upon others he adopts them
with much fulness.[15.30] He seems to have attempted an eclecticism
similar to that which Mahomet afterwards adopted, and to have based
his religious action upon the preliminary belief in the divine
mission of John and of Jesus.[15.31] He professed to bear a mystic
relation to them. He asserted, it is said, that it was he himself who
appeared to the Samaritans as the Father, to the Jews by the visible
crucifixion of the Son, and to the Gentiles by the inspiration of the
Holy Ghost.[15.32] He also, it would seem, prepared the way for the
doctrine of the "Docetæ." He claimed to have suffered in Judea in the
person of Jesus, but that his suffering was only apparent.[15.33] These
pretensions to Divinity and claims of adoration have probably been
exaggerated by the Christians, who have in every way sought to cover
him with odium.

The doctrine of "the Great Exposition" is that of nearly all the
Gnostic writings; and if Simon really professed that doctrine, it is
with good reason that the Fathers charged him with being the founder of
Gnosticism.[15.34] It is our belief that the "Exposition" has only a
relative authenticity; that it is to the doctrine of Simon very nearly
what the fourth Gospel is to the ideas of Jesus; and that it dates from
the earlier years of the second century, the epoch when the theosophic
notions of the Logos acquired a definite ascendency. These notions, of
which we shall find the germ in the Christian Church about the year
60,[15.35] may, however, have been known to Simon, whose career was
probably prolonged until the close of the century.

The notion then that we obtain of this enigmatic personage is, that
he was a kind of plagiarist of Christianity. Imitation seems to have
been a constant habit of the Samaritans.[15.36] In the same manner as
they had always been imitators of the Jewish ceremonies of Jerusalem,
so these sectaries had also their copy of Christianity, their Gnosis,
their theosophic speculations, and their Kabala. But we shall probably
remain for ever ignorant whether Simon was a respectable imitator, who
just fell short of success, or only an immoral and insincere juggler,
who was working for his own profit and celebrity a doctrine stitched
together out of the rags of other systems.[15.37] He thus assumes in
history a most difficult position; he walks on a tight-rope, where no
hesitation is permitted; in such a case there is no midway path between
ridiculous failure and triumphant success.

We have yet to examine whether the legends relative to Simon's sojourn
at Rome comprise any truth. It is at least certain that the Simonian
sect continued as far down as the third century;[15.38] that it
possessed churches as far as Antioch--perhaps even at Rome; and that
Menander of Capharetes and Cleobius[15.39] sustained the same doctrine,
or at least imitated Simon's performance as theurgist with more or less
recurrence in type to the acts of Jesus and the apostles. Simon and
his followers were in great esteem among their co-religionists. Sects
of the same kind, parallel with Christianity,[15.40] and more or less
tinctured with Gnosticism, continued to spring up among the Samaritans,
until their almost total destruction by Justinian. It was the lot
of this little religious community to receive an impression from
everything that happened in its vicinity, without producing anything
altogether original.

As to Christians, the memory of Simon was amongst them an abomination.
Those illusions of his which so closely resembled their own, were
irritating to them. To have competed with the success of the apostles
was the most unpardonable of crimes. They pretended that the wonders
performed by Simon and his disciples were works of the devil, and they
branded the Samaritan theosophist with the title of "Sorcerer,"[15.41]
which his believers took in high dudgeon. The entire Christian account
of Simon bears the imprint of concentrated hatred. The maxims of
quietism were ascribed to him, with the excesses which are generally
supposed to be their consequence.{15.42} He was considered the father
of all error, the primitive heresiarch. They delighted in recounting
his ludicrous adventures, and his defeats by the apostle Peter,[15.43]
and attributed to the vilest motives his apparent tendency towards
Christianity. They were so preoccupied with his name that they read it
at random upon columns where it did not exist.[15.44] The symbolism in
which he had clothed his ideas was interpreted in the most grotesque
way. The "Helena," whom he identified with "The First Intelligence,"
became a girl of the town purchased by him in the streets of
Tyre.[15.45] His very name, hated nearly as much as that of Judas,
and used as a synonym of _Anti-apostle,_[15.46] became the grossest
word of abuse and a proverbial expression to designate a professional
impostor or adversary of truth whom it was desired to refer to under a
disguise.[15.47] He was the first enemy of Christianity, or rather the
first personage whom Christianity treated as such. It is sufficient
to say that neither pious frauds nor calumny were spared in defaming
him.[15.48] Criticism in such a case need not attempt a rehabilitation;
it has no documents on the other side. All it can do is to show the
physiognomy of the traditions and the set purpose of abuse which they
display.

At least it should prevent the loading of the memory of the Samaritan
theurgist with a resemblance which may be only accidental. In a story
related by Josephus, a Jewish sorcerer named Simon, a native of Cyprus,
plays for the procurator Felix the part of a Pandarus.{15.49} The
circumstances of this story do not accord well enough with what is
known of Simon of Gitto, to make him responsible for the acts of a
person who may have had nothing in common with him but a name borne
by thousands, and a pretension to supernatural powers, which was
unfortunately shared by a crowd of his cotemporaries.




                              CHAPTER XVI.

              GENERAL PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN MISSIONS.


We have seen Barnabas leaving Antioch in order to carry to the faithful
at Jerusalem the contributions of their brethren in Syria, and arriving
at Jerusalem in time to be present at several of the excitements
occasioned there by the persecution of Herod Agrippa.[16.1] Let us now
follow him again to Antioch, where, at this period, all the creative
energy of the sect seems to have been concentrated.

Barnabas took back a zealous assistant, his cousin John-Mark, the
disciple of Peter,[16.2] and the son of that Mary at whose house the
chief apostle loved to stay. Doubtless in calling this new co-worker
to his aid, he had already in view the great enterprise in which they
were to embark. Perhaps he foresaw the disputes it would occasion, and
was well pleased to engage in it one who was understood to be the right
hand of Peter, whose influence in general matters was predominant.

The enterprise itself was no less than a series of great missions
starting from Antioch and seeking the conversion of the world. Like
all the great resolves of the early Church, this idea was ascribed to
a direct inspiration of the Holy Ghost. A special call, a supernatural
election, was believed to have been vouchsafed to the Church of Antioch
while engaged in fasting and prayer. Perhaps one of the prophets of
the Church, Menahem, or Lucius, uttered under the power of the gift of
tongues the words intimating that Paul and Barnabas were predestined
to this mission.[16.3] Paul was convinced that God had chosen him from
his mother's womb for this task, to which thenceforth he exclusively
devoted himself.[16.4]

The two apostles took with them, as an assistant in the details
of their enterprise, the John-Mark whom Barnabas had brought from
Jerusalem.[16.5] When the preparations were completed, after fasting
and prayer, and laying on of hands as a sign of the authority conferred
by the Church itself on the apostles,[16.6] they were commended to the
grace of God, and set out.[16.7] Whither they should journey, and what
races they should evangelize, is what we are now to learn.

The early missions were all directed westward, or in other words
adopted the Roman empire for their scene of operations. Excepting some
small provinces between the Tigris and the Euphrates under the rule of
the Arsacides, the Parthian countries received no Christian missions
during the first century.[16.8] Until the reigns of the Sassanides,
Christianity did not pass eastward beyond the Tigris. This important
fact was due to two causes, the Mediterranean sea, and the Roman empire.

For a thousand years the Mediterranean had been the great pathway
of ideas and civilizations. The Romans, in extirpating its pirates,
had rendered it an unequalled method of intercourse. A numerous
coasting-marine made it very easy to pass from point to point on the
borders of this immense lake. The comparative safety of the imperial
highways, the protection afforded by the civil authority, the diffusion
of the Jews around the Mediterranean coasts, the spreading of the
Greek language over their eastern portion,{16.9} and the unity of
civilization, which first the Greeks, and then the Romans, had extended
over those countries, all joined to make the map of the empire a map
of the regions set apart for Christian missions, and destined to be
Christianized. The Roman world became the Christian world, and in
this sense the founders of the empire may be called the founders of
the Christian monarchy. Every province conquered by the empire was a
conquest for Christianity. Had the apostles been placed in presence
of an independent Asia Minor; of a Greece or an Italy divided into
a hundred little republics; of a Gaul, Spain, Africa; of Egypt with
her ancient institutions--we cannot conceive of their succeeding, or
even imagine that such a project could have been seriously formed.
The unity of the empire was the preliminary condition of all great
religious conversions which should transcend lines of nationality. This
the empire saw clearly in the fourth century; it became Christian. It
perceived that it had established Christianity without knowing it; a
religion conterminous with the Roman territory, identified with the
empire, and capable of inspiring it with new life. The Church, on the
other hand, became entirely Roman, and has remained down to our own
day as a fragment of the empire. Had any one told Paul that Claudius
was his chief coöperator, or Claudius that the Jew just setting out
from Antioch was about to found the most enduring part of the imperial
structure, both would have been much astonished. Nevertheless both
sayings would have been true.

Syria was the first country out of Judea in which Christianity became
naturally established. This was an evident result of the vicinity of
Palestine and of the great number of Jews living in Syria.[16.10] The
apostles visited Cyprus, Asia Minor, Macedonia, Greece, and Italy next
in order, and only a few years after. Southern Gaul, Spain, and the
coast of Africa, although made acquainted with the Gospel at an early
period, may be considered as of a more recent epoch in the building up
of the new faith.

It was the same with Egypt. Egypt plays hardly any part in the
apostolic history, and the missionaries seem to have systematically
passed it by. Although after the third century it was the scene of such
momentous events in religious history, it was at first very backward
in Christian progress. Apollos was the only teacher of Christianity
who came from the Alexandrian school, and he learned it during his
travels.[16.11] The cause of this remarkable fact will be found
in the meagreness of the intercourse between the Egyptian and the
Palestinian Jews; and above all in the circumstance that Jewish Egypt
had a separate religious development in the teachings of Philo and the
Therapeutæ, which were its special Christianity, and which indisposed
it to lend an attentive ear to any other.[16.12] As to heathen Egypt,
her religious institutions were much more tenacious than those of
Greco-Roman paganism.[16.13] The Egyptian idolatry was yet in full
vigor. It was almost the epoch when the enormous temples of Esneh and
Ombos were constructed, and when the hope of finding a last Ptolemy,
a national Messiah in the little Cesarion, inspired the building of
Dendera and Hermonthis, which will compare with the finest works of
the Pharaohs. Christianity planted itself everywhere upon the ruins of
national feeling and local worships. The degradation of mind in Egypt
also made very rare those religious aspirations which opened so easy a
road to Christianity in other regions.

A flash of light from Syria, illumining almost at once the three
great peninsulas of Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy, and soon followed
by a second, which extended over nearly the whole Mediterranean
seaboard--such was the first apparition of Christianity. The course
of the apostolic vessels was always much the same. The Christian
preaching seems to have followed a road already laid out, and which is
no other than that of the Jewish emigration. Like a contagion which,
having its point of departure at the head of the Mediterranean, appears
all at once at a number of separate points on the shore by a secret
communication, Christianity had its points in a manner marked in
advance. They were nearly all places where there existed colonies of
Jews. The synagogue generally preceded the church. It was like a train
of powder, or more correctly, an electric cord, along which the new
idea ran with almost instantaneous rapidity.

During a century and a half Judaism, which had previously been confined
to the East and to Egypt, had been spreading westward. Cyrene, Cyprus,
Asia Minor, and certain cities of Macedonia, Greece, and Italy,
contained large Jewish colonies.[16.14] The Jews first exemplified
that species of patriotism which the Parsees, the Armenians, and in
some degree the modern Greeks, have shown in later ages;--a patriotism
of great warmth, though not attached to any particular locality;
a patriotism of a nation of merchants wandering everywhere, and
everywhere recognising each other as brothers; a patriotism which
results in forming no great compact states, but small autonomic
communities within other states. Closely associated among themselves,
the dispersed Jews formed quasi-independent congregations within the
cities, having their own magistrates and their own councils, some of
whom were invested with powers approaching sovereignty itself. They
dwelt in quarters by themselves, outside of the ordinary jurisdiction,
despised by the other citizens, and happy enough at home. They were
rather poor than rich. The epoch of the great Jewish fortunes had
not yet arrived; they began in Spain under the Visigoths.[16.15]
The monopoly of finance by the Jews resulted from the lack of
administrative capacity in the barbarians, and from the hatred
manifested by the Church against monetary science and her superficial
notions about usury. Nothing of the kind occurred in the Roman empire.
But when a Jew is not rich, he is poor; _bourgeois_ comfort is not his
forte. He is capable of enduring poverty; and he is still more capable
of combining the fiercest religious energy with the rarest commercial
skill. Theological eccentricities are not at all inconsistent with good
sense in conducting business. In England, America, and Russia, the
strangest sectaries, Irvingites, Latter-Day Saints, Raskolniks, are
able business-men.

It has always been characteristic of unadulterated Jewish life to
produce much gaiety and cordiality. In that little world of theirs
they loved each other, they revered their common history, and their
religious ceremonies mingled pleasantly with their daily existence. It
was analogous to the separate communities which still exist in Turkish
cities, such as the Greek, the Armenian, and the Hebrew quarters at
Smyrna, where they are all acquainted, and live and intrigue together.
In these little republics, religious affairs always control politics,
or rather supply the want of the latter. Amongst them a heresy is
an affair of state, and a schism always arises out of some personal
difficulty. The Romans, with rare exceptions, never penetrated these
secluded quarters. The synagogues published decrees, awarded honors,
and acted like real municipalities.[16.16] Their influence was extreme.
In Alexandria, it is predominant in all the internal history of the
city.[16.17] At Rome the Jews were numerous{6.18} and constituted a
body, the support of which was by no means to be despised. Cicero
claims the credit of courage for having resisted some of their
demands.[16.19] Cæsar protected them, and found them faithful.[16.20]
Tiberius was obliged, in order to control them, to resort to the
severest measures.[16.21] Caligula, whose reign was most calamitous to
them in the East, allowed them freedom of association at Rome.[16.22]
Claudius, who favored them in Judea, found it necessary to expel them
from the city.[16.23] They were encountered everywhere,[16.24] and it
was even said of them as of the Greeks, that when themselves subdued,
they had succeeded in imposing laws on their conquerors.[16.25]

The feelings of the native population towards these foreigners were
very diverse. On the one hand that strong sentiment of repulsion and
antipathy which the Jews have invariably inspired where sufficiently
numerous and organized, by their jealous love of isolation, their
revengeful nature, and their exclusive habits, manifested itself with
great force.[16.26] When they were free they were in fact a privileged
class, for they enjoyed the advantages of society, without sustaining
its burdens.[16.27] Charlatans took advantage of the curiosity inspired
by their religious rites, and under pretence of exposing their secrets,
acted all sorts of impostures.[16.28] Violent and semi-burlesque
pamphlets, like that of Apion, nourished the pagan enmity, and were
too often the sources whence the profane historians derived their
information.[16.29] The Jews seem to have been generally sullen
and full of complaints. They were looked upon as a secret society,
malevolent towards others, the members of which were pledged to push
forward their own interests at any cost, regardless of injury to their
fellow-men.[16.30] Their singular customs, their aversion to certain
kinds of food, their filth and unpleasant odor,[16.31] their religious
scruples, their minute observances on the Sabbath, all appeared absurd
and ridiculous.[16.32] Placed under a social ban, it was a natural
consequence that they should care nothing about refined appearances.
They were met everywhere travelling with garments shiny with dirt,
with an awkward air, a weary mien, a cadaverous skin, and large,
sunken eyes,[16.33] assuming a hypocritical and obsequious manner, and
herding apart with their women and children, and their bundles and
hamper, which composed their whole movable possessions.[16.34] In the
towns they exercised the meanest trades; they were beggars,[16.35]
rag-pickers, match-venders,[16.36] and small peddlers. Their history
and their law were alike unjustly reviled. Sometimes they were called
cruel and superstitious;[16.37][16.38] sometimes atheists and despisers
of the gods.[16.39] Their hatred of images appeared purely impious.
Above all, circumcision afforded a theme for endless raillery.[16.40]

But such superficial estimates were not concurred in by every one.
The Jews had as many friends as detractors. Their gravity and good
morals, and the simplicity of their religion, were attractive to
many persons, who recognised in them something superior. A vast
monotheistic and Mosaic propaganda was organized,[16.41] as it were
a powerful vortex around this singular race. The poor Jew peddler of
the Transteverine,[16.42] setting out in the morning with his basket
of small wares, often returned at evening enriched with alms from
some pious hand.[16.43] Women in particular were attracted towards
these ragged missionaries.[16.44] Juvenal enumerates their leaning
towards the Jewish religion as one of the vices of the ladies of his
time.[16.45] Those who were converted, gloried in the treasure they
had found and the happiness they enjoyed.[16.46] The old Greek and
Roman mind resisted stoutly; contempt and hatred of Jews were the sure
emotions of cultivated intellects, such as Cicero, Horace, Seneca,
Juvenal, Tacitus, Quintilian, and Suetonius.[16.47] On the other side,
the enormous mass of mingled populations which had become subject to
the empire and to whom the old Roman intellect and Greek learning were
foreign or indifferent, gladly and spontaneously welcomed a community
where they observed such touching examples of concord, charity, and
mutual aid,[16.48] of content, industry,[16.49] and proud poverty. The
institution of mendicity, which afterwards became entirely Christian,
was at that time Jewish. The mendicant by profession, "formed to it by
his mother," presented himself to the minds of the poets of the day as
a Jew.[16.50]

Exemption from some civil burdens, especially military duty, may
also have contributed to cause the lot of the Jews to be regarded as
desirable.[16.51] The State at that period demanded many sacrifices,
and afforded few moral advantages or pleasures. It created an icy
coldness as in a uniform and shelterless plain. Human life, which was
so melancholy under the rule of paganism, regained its charm and its
value in the mild atmospheres of the synagogue and the Church. There
was little enough liberty there, it is true. The brethren watched
each other and tormented each other unceasingly. But although the
internal life of these communities was anything but tranquil, it was
very enjoyable, and people did not abandon it; it had no apostates.
The poor enjoyed content within its circle; and dwelling in the quiet
of an untroubled conscience, regarded riches without envy.[16.52] The
truly democratic idea of the folly of worldly things, and the vanity
of riches and profane honors, was there completely embodied. They
were but little acquainted with the pagan world, and judged it with
intemperate severity. Roman civilization appeared to them a mass of
hateful vices and iniquities,[16.53] just as an honest _ouvrier_ of our
day, imbued with socialistic declamation, pictures the "aristocrat"
to himself in the blackest colors. But there was abundance of life,
gaiety, and interest amongst these people, and is to this moment in the
poorest synagogues of Poland and Galicia. Their lack of refinement and
elegance in habits was compensated for by a warm family attachment and
patriarchal hospitality. In high circles, on the contrary, egotism and
self-seeking had arrived at their fullest growth.

The words of Zachariah were being verified, that men of all nations
should "take hold of the skirt of him that is a Jew" and cry, bring
us to Jerusalem![16.54] There was not a large city where were not
observed the Sabbath, the fast, and the other ceremonies of the Hebrew
faith.[16.55] Josephus ventured to challenge all who doubted this to
look around in their own neighborhood or even their own houses, and see
if they would not find his assertion confirmed.[16.56] The residence
at Rome and access to the emperor permitted to several members of the
family of Herod, who performed their own rites openly, contributed much
to the impunity enjoyed by their religion.[16.57] Besides, the Sabbath
prevailed as it were of necessity in localities where Jews resided.
Their persistence in keeping their shops closed on that day, forced
many of their neighbors to modify their own habits accordingly. Thus at
Salonica it may be said that the Sabbath is observed to this day, the
Jewish population being rich and numerous enough to make the law, and
by the cessation of their own business to prescribe a day of repose.

Almost as much as the Jew, and often in company with him, was the
Syrian an active instrument in the conquest of the West by the
East.[16.58] They were sometimes confounded together, and Cicero
thought he had discovered their common trait when he called them
"nations born to be slaves."[16.59] It was that which insured to them
the control of the future, for the future then belonged to the slaves
of the earth. Not less characteristic of the Syrian, was his readiness,
quickness, and the superficial clearness of his thought. The Syrian
nature is like the passing imagery of the clouds. We see every moment
certain outlines of graceful form, but they never become united into a
complete design. In the darkness, by the flickering light of a lamp,
the Syrian woman with her veil, her wistful eyes, and her infinite
languor, causes a brief illusion. Afterwards, when we would analyse
her beauty, it disappears; it cannot endure examination, and it lasts
only three or four years. What is most charming in the Syrian race
is the child of five or six years old, contrary to Greece, where the
child was nothing, the youth inferior to the man, and the man to the
ancient.[16.60] Syrian intelligence attracts us at first with its
air of promptness and vivacity, but it lacks fixedness and solidity,
something like that "golden wine" of Libanus which causes an agreeable
excitement, but soon palls on the taste. The true gifts of God have
something about them at once fine and strong, exciting and enduring.
Greece is more appreciated to-day than ever before, and will be more
and more continually.

Many of the Syrian emigrants who were attracted westward in the pursuit
of fortune were more or less attached to Judaism. Others remained
faithful to the worship of their own village,[16.61] that is, to the
memory of some temple dedicated to a local "Jupiter"[16.62] who was
ordinarily the Supreme Deity designated by some special title;[16.63]
and they thus carried with them a kind of monotheism under the disguise
of their strange divinities. At least in comparison with the perfectly
distinct divine personalities of the Greek and Roman polytheism, the
Syrian gods being mostly synonymes of the sun, were almost the brothers
of the one Deity.[16.64] Like their long and enervating chants, these
Syrian rites appeared less dry than the Latin and less empty than
the Greek. The women acquired from them a mixture of ecstasy and
voluptuousness. Those Syrian women were always strange creatures,
disputed for by God and Satan, and oscillating between the saint and
the demon. The saint of serious virtues, of heroic self-denial, of
accomplished vows, belongs to other races and climes. The saint of
vivid imaginings, of absolute entrancements, and of sudden devotion,
is the saint of Syria. The demoniac of our Middle Age became the slave
of Satan through baseness or crime; that of Syria was distracted by
the ideal--the woman of wounded affections, who avenges herself by
madness or refusal to speak,{16.65} and who needs only a gentle word
and kind look to restore her. Transported to the western world, the
Syrian women acquired influence, sometimes by evil feminine arts, but
oftener by real capacity and moral superiority. This happened in a
special degree about a hundred and fifty years later, when the most
important personages of Rome married Syrian wives, who at once acquired
a great ascendency over affairs. The Mussulman woman of the present
time, a noisy scold and foolish fanatic, existing for scarce anything
but evil, and almost incapable of virtue, ought not to make us forget
such as Julia Domna, Julia Mæsa, Julia Mamæa, and Julia Sœmia, who
introduced into Rome a spirit of toleration and a mystical feeling
in religion which were till then unknown. What is also well worthy
of remark is, that the Syrian dynasty thus established was friendly
to Christianity, and that Mamæa, and afterwards the Emperor Philip
the Arabian,{16.66} passed for Christians. In the third and fourth
centuries Christianity was the predominant religion of Syria, and next
to Palestine, Syria played the greatest part in its establishment.

It was especially at Rome that the Syrian in the first century
exercised his penetrating activity. Intrusted with almost every kind of
ordinary duty, guide, messenger, and letter-bearer, the _Syrus_[16.67]
was admitted everywhere, bringing with him the language and manners of
his own land.[16.68] He possessed neither the pride nor the philosophic
loftiness of Europeans, much less their bodily vigor. Of weak frame,
pale and often feverish, and not knowing how to eat or sleep at
stated hours, after the fashion of our slower races; consuming little
meat, and subsisting on onions and pumpkins; sleeping little and
uneasily--the Syrian was habitually ailing and died young.[16.69] What
did belong to him was humility, mildness, affability, and good-nature;
no solidity of mind, but much that was agreeable; little sound sense,
unless in driving a bargain; but an astonishing warmth and zeal, and
a truly feminine seductiveness. Having never exercised any political
functions, he was specially apt for religious movements. The poor
Maronite, effeminate, humble, and destitute, has brought about the
greatest of revolutions. His ancestor, the _Syrus_ of Rome, was the
most zealous messenger of the good news to all afflicted souls. Every
year colonies of Syrians arrived in Greece, Italy, and Gaul, impelled
by their natural taste for trade and small employments.[16.70]
They could be recognised on board of the vessels by their numerous
families, by the troops of pretty children nearly alike in age, and
the mother with the childish air of a girl of fourteen keeping close
to her husband's side, submissive and smiling, and scarcely superior
to her oldest offspring.[16.71] The heads of this peaceful group are
not very strongly marked. There is no Archimedes there, no Plato or
Phidias. But this Syrian trader, now arrived at Rome, will be a kind
and merciful man, charitable to his countrymen, and a friend to the
poor. He will talk with the slaves, and reveal to them an asylum where
those miserable beings, condemned by Roman severity to a most dreary
solitude, may find some solace. The Greek and Latin races, made to
be masters and to accomplish great actions, knew not how to make any
advantage of an humble position.[16.72] The slave of those races passed
his life in revolt and in plotting evil. The ideal slave of antiquity
has every fault; he is gluttonous, mendacious, mischievous, and the
natural enemy of his master.[16.73] He thus, as it were, proved his
nobility of race; he was a constant protest against an unnatural
position. The easy, good-natured Syrian did not trouble himself to
protest; he accepted his degradation and sought to do the best he could
with it. He conciliated the kind feelings of his master, ventured to
converse with him, and studied how to please his mistress. This great
agent of democracy was thus gnawing apart, mesh by mesh, the net of the
ancient civilization. The old institutions based upon pride, inequality
of races, and military valor, were lost. Weakness and humble condition
were about to become advantageous, and helps to virtue.[16.74] The
Roman nobility, the Greek wisdom, will struggle for three centuries
more. Tacitus will approve the deportation of some thousands of
these wretches--"small loss if they had perished!"[16.75] The Roman
aristocracy will fret, will be provoked that this _canaille_ should
have its gods and institutions. But the victory is written in advance.
The Syrian, the poor man who loves his fellows, who shares with them
and associates with them, will carry the day. The Roman aristocracy
must perish, and perish without pity.

To explain the revolution which is about to take place, we must take
note of the political, social, moral, intellectual, and religious
condition of the countries through which Jewish proselytism has thus
opened furrows for the Christian preaching to sow the seed. Such an
examination will show convincingly, I hope, that the conversion of the
world to the Jewish and Christian ideas was inevitable, and will leave
us astonished at only one thing--namely, that that conversion proceeded
so slowly and commenced so late.




                             CHAPTER XVII.

                STATE OF THE WORLD IN THE FIRST CENTURY.


The political condition of the world was most melancholy. All power
was concentrated at Rome and in the legions. The most shameful and
degrading scenes were daily enacted. The Roman aristocracy, which
had conquered the world, and which alone of all the people had any
voice in public business under the Cæsars, had abandoned itself to
a Saturnalia of the most outrageous wickedness the human race ever
witnessed. Cæsar and Augustus, in establishing the imperial power,
saw perfectly the necessities of the age. The world was so low in its
political relations, that no other form of government was possible. Now
that Rome had conquered numberless provinces, the ancient constitution,
which was based upon the existence of a privileged patrician class, a
kind of obstinate and malevolent _Tories_, could not continue.[17.1]
But Augustus had signally neglected every suggestion of true policy,
by leaving the future to chance. Destitute of any canon of hereditary
succession, of any settled rules concerning adoption, and of any law
regulating election, Cæsarism was like an enormous load on the deck of
a vessel without ballast. The most terrible shocks were inevitable.
Three times in a century, under Caligula, Nero, and Domitian, the
greatest power that was ever united in one person fell into the hands
of most extravagant and execrable men. Horrors were enacted which have
hardly been surpassed by the monsters of the Mongol dynasties. In that
fatal list of monarchs, one is reduced to apologizing for a Tiberius,
who only attained thorough detestableness towards the close of his
life; and for a Claudius, who was only eccentric, blundering, and
badly advised. Rome became a school of vice and cruelty. It should be
added that the vice came, in a great degree, from the East, from those
parasites of low rank and those infamous men whom Egypt and Syria sent
to Rome,[17.2] and who, profiting by the oppression of the true Romans,
succeeded in attaining great influence over the wretches who governed.
The most disgusting ignominies of the empire, such as the apotheosis
of the emperors and their deification during life, came from the East,
and particularly from Egypt, which was at that period one of the most
corrupt countries on the face of the earth.[17.3]

However, the veritable Roman nature still survived, and nobility of
soul was far from extinct. The lofty traditions of pride and virtue,
which were preserved in a few families, attained the imperial throne
with Nerva, and gave its splendor to the age of the Antonines, of
which Tacitus is the elegant historian. An age in which such true and
noble natures as those of Quintilian, Tacitus, and Pliny the Younger
were produced, need not be wholly despaired of. The corruption of the
surface did not extend to the great mass of seriousness and honor
which existed in the better Roman society, and many examples are yet
preserved of devotion to order, duty, peace, and solid integrity. There
were in the noble houses admirable wives and sisters.[17.4] Was there
ever a more touching fate than that of the young and chaste Octavia,
the daughter of Claudius, and wife of Nero, remaining pure in the midst
of infamy, and slain at twenty-two years of age, without having known
a single joy? The epithets "_castissimæ_, _univiræ_," are not at all
rare in the inscriptions.[17.5] Some wives accompanied their husbands
into exile,[17.6] and others shared their noble deaths.[17.7] The
ancient Roman simplicity was not lost. The children were soberly and
carefully brought up. The most noble ladies worked with their own hands
at woollen fabrics,[17.8] and the excesses of the toilet were almost
unknown in the higher families.[17.9]

The excellent statesmen who, so to speak, sprang from the earth under
Trajan, were not improvised. They had served in preceding reigns; but
they had enjoyed but little influence, and had been cast into the
shade by the freedmen and favorite slaves of the Emperor. Thus we
find men of the first ability occupying high posts under Nero. The
framework was good. The accession of bad emperors, disastrous as it
was, could not change at once the general tendency of affairs, and the
principles of the government. The empire, far from being in its decay,
was in the full strength of vigorous youth. Decay will come, but two
centuries later; and, strange to say, under much more worthy monarchs.
In its political phase, the situation was analogous to that of France,
which, deprived by the Revolution of any established rule for the
succession--has yet passed through so many perilous changes without
greatly injuring its internal organization or its national strength. In
its moral aspect, the period under consideration may be compared to the
eighteenth century, an epoch entirely corrupt, if we form our judgment
from the memoirs, manuscripts, literature, and anecdotes of the time,
but in which, nevertheless, some families maintained the greatest
austerity of morals.[17.10]

Philosophy joined hands with the better families of Rome, and resisted
nobly. The Stoic school produced the lofty characters of Cremutius
Cordus, Thraseas, Arria, Helvidius Priscus, Annæus Cornutus, and
Musonius Rufus, admirable masters of aristocratic virtue. The rigidity
and exaggeration of this school arose from the horrible cruelty of the
Cæsars. The continual thought of a good man was how to inure himself
to suffering, and prepare himself for death.[17.11] Lucan, in bad
taste, and Persius with superior talent, both gave utterance to the
loftiest sentiments of a great soul. Seneca the philosopher, Pliny
the Elder, and Papirius Fabianus, kept up a high standard of science
and philosophy. Every one did not yield; there were a few wise men
left. Too often, however, they had no resource but death. The ignoble
portions of humanity at times got the upper hand. Then madness and
cruelty ruled the hour, and made of Rome a veritable hell.[17.12]

The government, although so fearfully unstable at Rome, was much better
in the provinces. At a distance the shocks which agitated the capital
were hardly felt. In spite of its defects, the Roman administration was
far superior to the kingdoms and commonwealths it had supplanted. The
time for sovereign municipalities had long gone by. Those little States
had destroyed themselves by their egotism, their jealousies, and their
ignorance or neglect of individual freedom. The ancient life of Greece,
all struggle, all external, no longer satisfied any one. It had been
glorious in its day, but that brilliant democratic Olympus of demi-gods
had lost its freshness, and become dry, cold, unmeaning, vain,
superficial, and lacking in both head and heart. Hence the success of
the Macedonian rule, and afterwards of the Roman. The empire had not
yet fallen into the error of excessive centralization. Until the time
of Diocletian, the provinces and cities enjoyed much liberty. Kingdoms
almost independent existed in Palestine, Syria, Asia Minor, Lesser
Armenia, and Thrace, under the protection of Rome. These kingdoms
became factious after Caligula, only because the profound policy of
Augustus concerning them was diverged from in succeeding reigns.[17.13]
The numerous free cities were governed according to their own laws, and
had the legislative power and magistracy of autonomic States. Until the
third century their municipal decrees commenced with the formula, "The
Senate and People of ----".[17.14] The theatres were not simply places
for scenic amusement, but were foci of opinion and discussion. Most of
the towns were, in different ways, little commonwealths. The municipal
spirit was very strong.[17.15] They had lost only the power to declare
war, a fatal power which made the world a field of carnage. "The
benefits conferred by Rome upon mankind," were the theme of adulatory
addresses everywhere, to which, however, it would be unjust to deny
some sincerity.[17.16] The doctrine of "the Peace of Rome,"[17.17]
the idea of a vast democracy organized under Roman protection, lay at
the bottom of all political speculations.[17.18] A Greek rhetorician
displays vast erudition in proving that Roman glory should be claimed
by all the branches of the Hellenic race as a common patrimony.[17.19]
In regard to Syria, Asia Minor, and Egypt, we may say that the Roman
conquest did not destroy any of their liberties. Those nations had
either been already long dead to political life, or had never enjoyed
it.

Finally, in spite of the extortions of governors and of the violence
which is inseparable from despotic sway, the world had in many
respects never been so well off. An administration coming from a
remote centre was so great an advantage, that even the rapacious
Prætors of the latter days of the Republic had failed to render it
unpopular. The Julian law had also narrowed down the scope of abuses
and peculations. The follies or cruelties of the emperor, except under
Nero, reached only the Roman aristocracy and the immediate followers
of the prince. Never had men who did not care to busy themselves
about politics been able to live more at ease. The ancient republics,
in which every one was compelled to take part in the factions, were
very uncomfortable places of residence.[17.20] There was continually
going on some disorganization or proscription. But under the empire
the time seemed made expressly for great proselytisms which should
overrule both the quarrels of neighborhoods and the rivalry of
dynasties. Attacks on liberty were much more frequently owing to the
remnants of the provincial or communal authority than to the Roman
administration.[17.21] Of this truth we have had and shall have many
occasions to take note.

For those of the conquered countries where political privileges
had been unknown for ages, and which lost nothing but the right of
destroying themselves by continual wars, the empire was such an era of
prosperity and well-being as they had never before experienced; and we
may add, without being paradoxical, that it was also for them an era of
liberty.[17.22] On the one hand, a freedom of commerce and industry,
of which the Grecian States had no conception, became possible. On the
other hand, the new _régime_ could not but be favorable to freedom of
thought. This freedom is always greater under a monarchy than under
the rule of jealous and narrow-minded citizens, and it was unknown in
the ancient republics. The Greeks accomplished great things without
it, thanks to the incomparable force of their genius; but we must
not forget that Athens had a complete inquisition.[17.23] The Chief
Inquisitor was represented by the archon, and the Holy Office by the
royal portico whence issued the accusations of "impiety." These were
numerous, and it is in this kind of causes that we find the Attic
orators most frequently engaged. Not only philosophic heresies, such
as the denial of a God or of Providence, but the slightest infractions
of the rules of municipal worship, the preaching of foreign religions,
and the most puerile departures from the absurdly strict legislation
concerning the mysteries, were crimes punishable by death. The gods
at whom Aristophanes scoffed on the stage, could sometimes slay. They
slew Socrates, and almost Alcibiades; and they persecuted Anaxagoras,
Protagoras, Theodorus, Diagoras of Melos, Prodicus of Ceos, Stilpo,
Aristotle, Theophrastus, Aspasia, and Euripides.[17.24] Liberty of
thought was, in fact, the fruit of the kingdoms which arose out of
the Macedonian conquests. An Attalus and a Ptolemy first allowed the
thinker those liberties which none of the old republics had permitted.
The Roman empire continued the same policy. There was, indeed, under
the empire more than one arbitrary decree against the philosophers,
but it was always called forth by their entering into political
schemes.[17.25] We may search in vain the Roman law before Constantine
for a single passage against freedom of thought; and the history of
the imperial government furnishes no instance of a prosecution for
entertaining an abstract doctrine. No scientific man was molested.
Men like Galen, Lucan, and Plotinus, who would have gone to the stake
in the Middle Age, lived tranquilly under the protection of the law.
The empire inaugurated liberty in this respect; it extinguished the
despotic sovereignty of the family, the town, and the tribe, and
replaced or tempered it by that of the State. But despotic power is the
more vexatious the narrower its sphere of action. The old republics
and the Feudal system oppressed individuals much more than did the
state. The empire at times persecuted Christianity most severely, but
at least it did not arrest its progress.[17.26] Republics, however,
would have overcome the new faith. Even Judaism would have smothered
it, but for the pressure of Roman authority. The Roman magistrates were
all that hindered the Pharisees from destroying Christianity at the
outset.[17.27]

Expanded ideas of universal brotherhood and a sympathy with humanity
at large, derived for the most part from the Stoic philosophy,[17.28]
were the results of the broader system of authority and the less
confined education which had now assumed control.[17.29] Men dreamed
of a new era and of new worlds.[17.30] The public wealth was great,
and notwithstanding the imperfect economic doctrines of the day, was
considerably diffused. Morals were not what is often imagined. At
Rome, it is true, every kind of vice paraded itself with revolting
cynicism,[17.31] and the public shows in particular had introduced a
frightful degree of corruption. Some countries, Egypt for example,
had sounded the lowest depths of infamy. But in most of the provinces
there was a middle class in which good-nature, conjugal fidelity,
probity, and the domestic virtues, were generally practised.[17.32]
Is there anywhere an ideal of domestic life among the honest
citizens of small towns more charming than that presented to us by
Plutarch? What kindness, what gentle manners, what chaste and amiable
simplicity![17.33] Chæronea was evidently not the only place where life
was so pure and innocent.

The popular tendencies were yet somewhat cruel even outside of Rome;
perhaps as the remnant of antique manners, which were everywhere
sanguinary, perhaps as the special effect of Roman severity. But a
marked improvement in this respect was taking place. What pure or
gentle sentiment, what impression of melancholy tenderness had not
received its finest expression from the pens of Virgil and Tibullus?
The world was losing its ancient rigidity and acquiring softness and
sensibility. Maxims of common humanity became current,[17.34] and
the Stoics earnestly taught the abstract notions of equality and the
rights of man.[17.35] Woman, under the dotal system of Roman law, was
becoming more and more her own mistress. The treatment of slaves was
improving;[17.36] Seneca admitted his to his own table.[17.37] The
slave was no longer that grotesque and malignant creature which Latin
comedy introduced to excite laughter, and which Cato recommended to be
treated as a beast of burden.[17.38] The times had changed. The slave
was now morally equal to his master, and was admitted to be capable
of virtue, fidelity, and devotion, of which he had given abundant
proofs.[17.39] Prejudices of birth were becoming effaced.[17.40]
Many just and humane laws were enacted, even under the worst
emperors.[17.41] Tiberius was a skilful financier, and established upon
an excellent basis a system of public credit.[17.42] Nero introduced
into the taxation, which had previously been unequal and barbarous,
some improvements which throw discredit even on our own times.[17.43]
The progress of the theory of legislation was also considerable,
although the death-penalty was still absurdly general. Charity to the
poor, and sympathy for all, became virtues.[17.44]

The theatre was a most insupportable scandal to decent citizens,
and one of the chief causes which excited the antipathy of Jews and
Judaized people of every kind against the profane civilization of the
age. To their eyes, those vast inclosures were gigantic _cloacæ_ in
which all the vices were collected. While the lower benches applauded,
in the upper were often displayed disgust and horror. The gladiatorial
spectacles established themselves with difficulty in the provinces. At
least the Hellenic provinces repelled them, and generally adhered to
the ancient Grecian games.[17.45] Bloody sports always retained in the
East distinct marks of Roman origin.[17.46]

The Athenians having one day debated the introduction of these
barbarous sports in imitation of Corinth,[17.47] a philosopher arose
and moved that they should first raze to the ground the altar of
Pity.[17.48] Thus it happened that one of the most profound sentiments
of the primitive Christians, and one, too, which produced the most
extended results, was detestation of the theatre, the stadium, the
gymnasium; that is to say, of all the public resorts which gave its
distinctive character to a Grecian or Roman city. Ancient civilization
was a public civilization. Its affairs were transacted in the open air
in presence of the assembled citizens. It was the inversion of our
system, in which life is private, and is inclosed within the walls of
our dwellings. The theatre was the offspring of the _agora_ and the
_forum_. The anathema against the theatre rebounded against society in
general. A bitter rivalry grew up between the Church and the public
games. The slave, driven away from the latter, betook himself to the
former. I have never seated myself in those melancholy arenas, which
are always the best-preserved relics of an ancient city, without seeing
in imagination the struggle of the two systems. Here, the honest and
humble citizen, already half a Christian, sitting in the first row,
covering his face and going away ashamed; there, the philosopher,
rising suddenly and openly reproaching the assemblage with its
baseness.[17.49] These examples were rare in the first century, but the
protest was beginning to make itself heard,[17.50] and the theatre was
receiving more and more reprobation.[17.51]

The laws and administrative regulations of the empire were as yet
a veritable chaos. Central despotism, municipal and provincial
franchises, administrative caprice and the self-will of commonalties,
jostled each other in the strangest manner. But religious liberty was a
gainer by these conflicts. The complete unity of administration, which
was established at about the time of Trajan, proved much more fatal
to the rising faith than the irregular, careless, and poorly-policed
system of the Cæsars.

Institutions of public charity, founded on the doctrine that the State
owes paternal duties to its subjects, were not much developed until
after the reigns of Nerva and Trajan.[17.52] A few traces of them,
however, are found in the first century.[17.53] There were already
charities for children,[17.54] distributions of food to the poor,
fixed rates for the sale of bread with indemnity provided for the
tradesmen, precautions in regard to supply of provisions, assurance
against pirates, and orders enabling persons to buy grain at reduced
prices.[17.55] All the emperors, without exception, manifested the
greatest solicitude on these topics, which may indeed be called
subordinate, but which at certain times rule everything else. In remote
antiquity there was not much need of public charity. The world was
young and strong, and required no hospital. The good and simple Homeric
morality, according to which the guest and the beggar are sent by Jove,
is the morality of strong and cheerful youth.[17.56] Greece, in her
classic age, enounced the most touching maxims of pity and benevolence,
without connecting with them any conception of sadness or social
misfortune.[17.57] Man was yet at that epoch healthy and happy; how
could he look forward and provide against evil days!

But in respect to institutions for mutual assistance, the Greeks
were far in advance of the Romans.[17.58] Not a solitary liberal or
benevolent arrangement was ever devised by that cruel aristocracy
which, as long as the republic endured, wielded such an oppressive
authority.

At the epoch we are now considering, the colossal fortunes and luxury
of the nobility, the vast agglomerations of people at certain points,
and above all the peculiar and implacable hard-heartedness of the
Romans, had caused the rise of pauperism.[17.59] The indulgence of
some of the emperors to the Roman mob had aggravated this evil.
The public distributions of corn encouraged idleness and vice, and
provided no remedy for misery. In this, as in many other things, the
Oriental world was superior. The Jews possessed real institutions
of charity. The Egyptian temples seem to have sometimes had a fund
for the poor.[17.60] The male and female colleges of the Serapeum at
Memphis were also to some extent charitable establishments.[17.61] The
terrible crisis through which humanity was passing in the capital was
scarcely perceived in distant provinces where the mode of life remained
simple. The reproach of having poisoned the whole earth, the likening
of Rome to a harlot who had made the earth drunk with the wine of her
fornication, was in many respects just.[17.62] The provinces were
better than Rome; or more properly, the impure elements which gathered
together from all quarters into the metropolis, made her a sink of
iniquity, in which the old Roman virtues were smothered, and the good
seed brought from elsewhere grew with difficulty.

The intellectual condition of the different parts of the empire was
quite unsatisfactory. In this respect there had been a real decline.
High mental culture is not as independent of political circumstances
as is private morality. Besides, the progress of high mental culture
and that of morality are not exactly parallel. Marcus Aurelius was
certainly a better man than all the old Greek philosophers. Yet his
positive notions in regard to the realities of the universe were
inferior to those of Aristotle and Epicurus; for he believed at
times in dreams and omens, and in the gods as complete and distinct
personalities. The world was then undergoing a moral improvement
and an intellectual decline. From Tiberius to Nerva this decline
is very perceptible. The Greek genius, with a force, originality,
and copiousness which have never been equalled, had in the course
of several centuries created the rational encyclopædia, the normal
discipline of the mind. This wonderful movement commenced with Thales,
and the earliest Ionian schools (600 years before Christ), and was
stopped about B.C. 120. The last survivors of these five centuries of
intellectual progress, Apollonius of Perga, Eratosthenes, Aristarchus,
Hero, Archimedes, Hipparchus, Chrysippus, Carneades, and Panetius, had
departed, leaving no successors. Only Posidonius and a few astronomers
kept up the ancient reputation of Alexandria, Rhodes, and Pergamus.
Greece, however fertile in creative genius, had not extracted from her
science and philosophy any system of popular instruction or remedy
against superstition. Possessing admirable scientific institutes,
Egypt, Asia Minor, and Greece herself were at the same time given over
to the most senseless credulity. But if science does not succeed in
getting the upper hand over superstition, superstition will extinguish
science. Between these two opposing forces, the combat is to the death.

Italy, while adopting Greek science, had for a time inspired it
with a new sentiment. Lucretius had furnished the model of the great
philosophic poem, at once a hymn and a blasphemy, by turns imparting
serenity and despair, and imbued with that profound view of human
destiny which was always wanting in the Greeks, who, childlike as
they were, took life so gaily that they never dreamed of cursing the
Gods, or of accusing nature of injustice and treachery towards man.
Graver thoughts occurred to the Latin philosophers. But Rome as well
as Greece failed to make science the basis of popular education. While
Cicero, with exquisite taste, was transferring into a polished form
the ideas he borrowed from the Greeks; while Lucretius was composing
his wonderful poem; while Horace was avowing his frank infidelity in
the ear of Augustus, who expressed no surprise; while Ovid, one of the
most pleasing poets of the time, was treating venerable traditions
after the manner of an elegant free-thinker; and while the great
Stoics were developing the practical results of Greek philosophy,
the silliest chimeras met with full credence, and the belief in the
marvellous was unbounded. Never were people more ready for prophecies
and prodigies.[17.63] The eclectic deism of Cicero,[17.64] perfected
by Seneca,[17.65] remained the creed of a few cultivated minds, but
exercised no influence on the age.

Down to Vespasian, the empire had nothing which can be called public
instruction.[17.66] What it afterwards possessed was confined to a
few dry grammatical exercises, and the general decline became rather
accelerated than retarded. The last days of the republic and the reign
of Augustus, witnessed one of the most brilliant literary epochs
that has ever occurred. But after the death of the great emperor, the
decline may as properly be called sudden as rapid. The intelligent
and cultivated society in which had moved Cicero, Atticus, Cæsar,
Mæcenas, Agrippa, and Pollio, had vanished like a dream. Doubtless
enlightened men remained; men familiar with the learning of their
day, and occupying high positions, such as Lucilius, Pliny, Gallio,
and the Senecas, with the literary circle which gathered around them.
The body of Roman law, which is codified philosophy, which is Greek
rationalism reduced to practice, continued its majestic growth. The
noble Roman families had preserved a basis of purer religion and a
horror of what they called "superstition."[17.67] The geographers,
Strabo and Pomponius Mela; the physician and encyclopædist, Celsus;
the botanist, Dioscorides; the jurist, Sempronius Proculus--were able
and liberal men. But these were exceptions; leaving out a few thousand
enlightened persons, the world was immersed in profound ignorance of
the laws of nature.[17.68] Credulity was a universal malady.[17.69]
Literary culture was dwindling into a mere rhetorical shell, which
contained no kernel. The essentially moral and practical turn which
philosophy had taken, banished profound speculation. Human knowledge,
if we except geography, made no advances. The schooled and lettered
amateur replaced the creative and original student. Here was felt the
fatal influence of the great defect in Roman character. That race,
so mighty to command, was secondary in genius. The most cultivated
Romans, Lucretius, Vitruvius, Celsus, Pliny, Seneca, were, so far
as regards positive knowledge, the pupils of the Greeks. Too often,
indeed, it was second-rate Greek learning which they reproduced in
a second-rate style.[17.70] Rome never possessed a great scientific
school. Charlatanism reigned there almost supreme. Finally the Latin
literature, which certainly displayed some admirable qualities,
flourished during only a brief period, and never made its way beyond
the occidental world.[17.71]

Greece fortunately continued faithful to her genius. The prodigious
splendor of Roman power had dazzled and stunned, but not annihilated
it. In fifty years more we shall find her reconquering the world,
giving again her laws to thought, and sharing the throne of the
Antonines. But at this period Greece herself was passing through one
of her intervals of lassitude. Genius was scarce, and original science
inferior to what it had been in preceding ages, and to what it would
be in the following. The Alexandrian school, which had been declining
for nearly two centuries, but still at Cæsar's era could furnish a
Sosigenes, was now dumb.

The space from the death of Augustus to the accession of Trajan must,
then, be classed as a period of temporary degradation for the human
intellect. The ancient world had by no means uttered its last word, but
the bitter trials through which it was passing took from it both voice
and courage. When brighter days return, and genius shall be delivered
from the terrible sway of the Cæsars, she will take heart again.
Epictetus, Plutarch, Dionysius the golden-mouthed, Quintilian, Tacitus,
Pliny the Younger, Juvenal, Rufus of Ephesus, Aretæus, Galen, Ptolemy,
Hypsicles, Theon, and Lucan, will renew the palmy days of Greece; not
that inimitable Greece which existed but once for the simultaneous
delight and despair of all who love the beautiful, but a Greece still
fruitful and abounding, which will mingle her own gifts with the Roman
genius, and produce works of novelty and originality yet able to charm
the world.

The general taste was bad. Great Greek writers were wanting; and the
Latin writers extant, except the satirist Persius, are of an ordinary
type. Excessive declamation spoiled everything. The rule by which
the public judged intellectual productions was nearly the same as it
is now. Only brilliancy was looked for. Language ceased to be the
simple vestment of thought, deriving all its elegance from its perfect
adaptation to the idea sought to be expressed. Language began to be
cultivated for its own sake. The aim of an author in his writings was
to display his own talent. The excellence of a recitation or public
reading was measured by the number of passages which excited applause.
The cardinal principle that in art everything should serve as ornament,
but that anything inserted expressly as ornament is bad, was entirely
forgotten. It was a very literary period, as they say. Hardly anything
was talked of but eloquence and style; and after all, nearly everybody
wrote incorrectly, and there was not a solitary orator. The true orator
and writer are not those who make speaking or writing their trade.
At the theatre, the principal actor absorbed attention, and dramas
were suppressed in order that brilliant passages might be recited.
The literary fashion of the day was a silly _dilettantism_, a foolish
vanity which led everybody to affect talent, and which did not stop
short of the imperial throne. Hence extreme insipidity and interminable
"Theseids," or dramas written to be read in literary circles; and hence
a dreary desert of poetical commonplace, which can be compared only to
the epics and classic tragedies of sixty years ago.

Stoicism itself could not escape this disease, or at least it did
not before Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius succeeded in clothing its
doctrines in an elegant vesture. What strange productions are those
tragedies of Seneca, in which the loftiest sentiments are expressed
in the most wearisome style of literary quackery! indices at once of
moral advancement and of an irremediable decline of taste. We are
compelled to say the same of Lucan. The tension of mind which resulted
naturally from the eminently tragic character of the epoch, gave
rise to a species of inflation, in which state the only anxiety was
to win applause by brilliant sentences. Something analogous to this
happened amongst us during the Revolution; and the most terrible crisis
which ever existed produced scarcely anything but a schoolmaster's
literature, crammed with declamation. We must not, however, stop at
this point. New ideas are sometimes expressed with much ostentation.
The style of Seneca is sober, simple, and pure, in comparison with that
of St. Augustine. But we forgive the latter his detestable style and
insipid conceits, in return for his noble sentiments.

At all events this cultivation, which was in many respects noble and
superior, did not extend to the people. This would have been a minor
deprivation, if the people had had at least some religious nourishment,
something similar to that which the Church provides for the lowest
grades of modern society. But religion was at a very low ebb in all
parts of the empire. The wise policy of Rome had left unmolested the
ancient forms of worship, prohibiting only those observances which
were inhuman,[17.72] seditious, or injurious to others.[17.73] She
had spread over them all a sort of official varnish, which gave them
some general resemblance, and blended them, good and bad, together.
Unfortunately these old creeds, though very diverse in origin, had one
common characteristic. It was equally impossible for any and all of
them to provide theological instruction, applied morality, edifying
preaching, or a pastoral ministry productive of good among the people.
The pagan temple was never what the synagogue and the Church were in
their best days--that is, a common home, school, inn, hospital, and
refuge for the poor.[17.74] It was only a chilly cell which the people
seldom entered, and where they never learned anything.

The Roman worship was perhaps the least objectionable of those which
were yet practised. In it, purity of soul and body was considered
a part of religion.[17.75] By its gravity, its decency, and its
austerity, this form of worship, leaving out a few extravagances
similar to our Carnival, was far superior to the grotesque and
sometimes absurd ceremonies which were secretly introduced by those
seized with the mania for Oriental customs. Still, the affectation
with which the Roman patricians distinguished "_religion_"--that
is, their own rites--from those of foreigners, which they called
"_superstition_," cannot but appear to us puerile enough.[17.76] All
the pagan forms of worship were essentially superstitious. The peasant
who, in modern times, drops his penny into the contribution-box of
a holy chapel, who invokes his saint in behalf of his oxen or his
horses, or who drinks certain waters to cure certain diseases, is so
far forth a pagan. Nearly all our superstitions are the remains of a
religion anterior to Christianity, and which it has not yet succeeded
in completely rooting out. If one would find at this day the image of
paganism, he may seek it in some secluded village lying hid in the
recesses of some unfrequented province.

The heathen religions, having no guardians but the varying traditions
of the people and a few greedy sacristans, could not fail to degenerate
into adulation.[17.77] Augustus, although with some reserve, permitted
worship of himself in some of the provinces during his lifetime.[17.78]
Tiberius allowed the decision in his own presence, of the ignoble
competition of the cities of Asia, which disputed among themselves the
honor of building a temple to him.[17.79] The extravagant impieties
of Caligula produced no reaction.[17.80] Outside of Judaism there did
not seem to be a single priest manly enough to resist such follies.
Sprung for the most part from a primitive worship of the forces of
nature, transformed over and over again by mixtures of all sorts, and
by popular imagination, the pagan religions were confined by their
antecedents. They could not afford what they never contained--the idea
of real divinity, or popular instruction. The fathers of the Church
occasion a smile when they animadvert upon the misdeeds of Saturn as
a father, and of Jupiter as a husband. But it was certainly much more
absurd to erect Jupiter (_i.e._ the atmosphere) into a moral divinity,
who commanded, forbade, rewarded, and punished. In a state of society
which was aspiring to possess a catechism, what could be done with a
worship like that of Venus, which arose out of a social necessity of
the early Phœnician navigation in the Mediterranean sea, but became
in time an outrage on what was becoming more and more regarded as the
essence of religion.

On every side, in fact, an energetic tendency was manifested towards
a monotheistic religion, which should provide divine command as a
foundation of morality. There occurs in this manner a crisis when
the naturalistic religions have become reduced to mere childishness
and the grimaces of jugglers, and can no longer answer the wants of
society. Then humanity requires a moral and philosophical religion.
Buddhism and Zoroasterism responded to this requirement in India and
Persia. Orphism and the Mysteries had attempted the same thing in the
Grecian world without achieving a lasting success. At the period we
are considering, the problem presented itself to the entire world with
solemn universality and imposing grandeur.

Greece, it is true, formed an exception in this respect. Hellenism
was much less worn out than the other religions of the empire.
Plutarch, in his little Bœotian town, lived in the practice of
Hellenism--tranquil, happy, and contented as a child, and with a
religious conscience entirely undisturbed. In him we see no trace of a
crisis; of distraction, uneasiness, or fear of impending revolution.
But it was only the Greek mind which was capable of such childlike
serenity. Always pleased with herself, proud of her past and of that
brilliant mythology, all of whose sacred places lay within her borders,
Greece did not participate in the internal disquiet of the world. She
alone did not invite Christianity; she alone would have preferred to
do without it, and she alone made pretensions of doing better.[17.81]
This was the result of the everlasting youthfulness, patriotic
feeling, and unconquerable gaiety which always marked the genuine
son of Hellas, and which to this day render the Greek a stranger to
the profound anxieties which prey upon us. Hellenism was thus in a
condition to attempt a _renaissance_, which no other religion existing
at the time could hope for. In the second, third, and fourth centuries
of our era, Hellenism had formed itself into an organized system of
religion, by means of a welding, as it were, of the old mythology and
the Grecian philosophy; and what with its miracle-working sages, its
old writers elevated to the ranks of prophets, and its legends about
Pythagoras and Apollonius, set up a competition with Christianity,
which, though it ultimately failed, was yet one of the most dangerous
obstacles that the religion of Jesus found in its way.

This attempt had not yet been made in the time of the Cæsars. The
first philosophers who endeavored to bring about the alliance between
philosophy and paganism, were Euphrates of Tyre, Apollonius of Tyana,
and Plutarch, at the close of the century. Euphrates of Tyre is but
little known to us. Legend has so completely disguised the plot of
the real life of Apollonius, that it is impossible to say whether he
should be considered the founder of a religion, a sage, or a charlatan.
As to Plutarch, he was not so much an original thinker and innovator
as a moderate reformer, who wished to bring the world to one mind by
rendering philosophy a little timid and religion at least one-half
rational. He has nothing of the character of Porphyry or Julian.

The attempts of the Stoics at allegorical exegesis were very
feeble.[17.82] Mysteries like those of Bacchus, in which the
immortality of the soul was taught through graceful symbols,[17.83]
were confined to certain localities and had no extended influence.
Disbelief in the official religion was general in the enlightened
class.[17.84] Those public men who made the greatest pretension
of upholding it, expended their wit upon it freely in moments of
leisure.[17.85] The immoral doctrine was openly propounded, that the
religious fables were only of use in governing the people, and ought to
be maintained for that purpose.[17.86] The precaution was useless, for
the faith of the people themselves was shaken to the foundation.[17.87]

After the accession of Tiberius, a religious reaction was perceptible.
It would seem that society was shocked at the avowed infidelity of
the Augustan age. The way was prepared for the unlucky attempt of
Julian, and all the superstitions were reinstated for reasons of
state-policy.[17.88] Valerius Maximus affords the first example of a
writer of low rank coming to the relief of cornered theologians; of a
dirty, venal pen put to the service of religion.

But the foreign rites profited the most by this reaction. The serious
movement in favor of the rehabilitation of the Greco-Roman worship did
not develop itself until the second century. At first, the classes
troubled by religious misgivings were attracted towards the Oriental
forms.[17.89] Isis and Serapis were more in favor than ever.[17.90]
Impostors of all sorts thaumaturgists and magicians, profited by the
popular mood, and, as ordinarily takes place when the state-religion is
enfeebled, swarmed on every side.[17.91] We need only refer to the real
or fictitious systems of Apollonius of Tyana, Alexander of Abonoticus,
Perigrinus, and Simon of Gitto.[17.92] Even these errors and chimeræ
were the cry of a world in labor; were the fruitless essays of human
society in search of the truth, and sometimes in its convulsive efforts
unearthing monstrous deformities destined to speedy oblivion.

On the whole, the middle of the first century was one of the worst
epochs of ancient history. Grecian and Roman society had declined
from its former condition, and was far behind the ages which were to
follow. The greatness of the crisis revealed a strange and secret
process going on. Life seemed to have lost its motives; suicide became
common.[17.93] Never had an age presented so dire a struggle between
good and evil. The powers of evil were a terrible despotism which
delivered the world to the hands of monsters and madmen, corruption of
morals arising from the importation of Oriental vices, and the want of
a pure religion and decent public instruction. The powers of good were
on the one side, philosophy fighting with bared breast against tyranny,
defying the monsters of oppression, and three or four times proscribed
in half a century (under Nero, Vespasian, and Domitian);[17.94] on the
other side, the struggles of popular virtue, the legitimate longings
for a better religion, the tendency towards confraternities and
monotheistic creeds, and the recognition of the lower classes which
occurred chiefly under cover of Judaism and Christianity. These two
great protests were far from being accordant. The philosophic party and
the Christian party were not acquainted with each other, and had so
little perception of their common interest that when the philosophers
came into power by the accession of Nerva, they were far from being
favorable to Christianity. In truth, the aim of the Christians was
much more radical. The Stoics, when they became masters of the empire,
reformed it, and presided over a hundred of the happiest years in the
history of man. The Christians, when they became masters of the empire,
ended by destroying it. The heroism of the latter ought not to make us
unmindful of that of the former. Christianity was always unjust towards
pagan virtues, and made it her business to decry the very men who had
fought against the same common enemy. There was as much grandeur in the
struggle of philosophy in the first century as in that of Christianity;
but how unequal has been the recompense. The martyr who overturned
idols with his foot lives in pious legend. Why are not the statues of
Annæus Cornutus, who declared in presence of Nero that the emperor's
writings would never be worth those of Chrysippus[17.95]--of Helvidius
Priscus, who told Vespasian to his face, "It is thine to murder--it
is mine to die!"--[17.96] of Demetrius the Cynic, who answered an
enraged Nero, "You may menace me with death; but nature threatens
you"[17.97]--placed amongst those of the world's heroes whom all love
and to whom every one pays homage? Is humanity so strong in her battle
with vice and depravity, that any school of virtue can repel the aid
of others, and maintain that itself alone has the right to be brave,
lofty, and resigned?




                             CHAPTER XVIII.

                  RELIGIOUS LEGISLATION OF THE PERIOD.


During the first century of the Christian era, the empire, while
manifesting more or less hostility to the religious innovations which
were imported from the East, did not declare open war against them.
The doctrine of a state-religion was not clearly defined or vigorously
upheld. At different epochs under the republic, foreign rites had been
proscribed, especially those of Sabazius, Isis, and Serapis.[18.1] But
those mysterious systems presented such irresistible attractions to the
common people, that the proscription proved unavailing.[18.2]

When (A. U. C. 535) the demolition of the temple of Isis and Serapis
was decreed, not a workman could be found to commence it, and the
consul himself had to set the example by breaking down the doors
with an axe.[18.3] It is evident that the Latin creed was no longer
satisfying to the masses; and we may suppose with good reason that it
was for the purpose of gratifying the popular instincts that the rites
of Isis and Serapis were reëstablished by Cæsar.[18.4]

That great man, with the profound and liberal intuition which
characterized him, had shown himself favorable to entire freedom
of conscience.[18.5] Augustus was more attached to the national
religion.[18.6] He had an antipathy to the Oriental creeds,[18.7] and
prohibited the spread of even the Egyptian rites in Italy;[18.8] but
he allowed every system, and the Jewish in particular, to enjoy freedom
and supremacy in its own country.[18.9] He exempted the Jews from all
observances conflicting with their conscience, especially from civil
duties on the Sabbath.[18.10] Some of his officers manifested a less
tolerant spirit, and would willingly have prevailed on him to become a
persecutor in the interest of the Latin form of worship;[18.11] but he
does not appear to have yielded to their mischievous counsel. Josephus,
whom we may, however, suspect of some exaggeration, declares that
Augustus even went so far as to present a gift of consecrated vases to
the service of the temple at Jerusalem.[18.12]

Tiberius Cæsar was the first of the emperors who definitely adopted
the principle of a state-religion, and who enforced strict precautions
against the Jewish and Oriental propaganda.[18.13] It must be borne
in mind that the emperor was also "_Pontifex Maximus_," and that in
protecting the ancient Roman worship he was performing an official
duty. Caligula revoked the Tiberian edicts,[18.14] but his supervening
lunacy prevented any further results. Claudius seems to have carried
out the Augustan policy. At Rome he strengthened the Latin ceremonies,
showed considerable dislike to the advance of foreign religions,[18.15]
enforced rigorous measures against the Jews,[18.16] and implacably
persecuted the religious confraternities.[18.17] In Judea, on the
contrary, he treated the natives of the country liberally.[18.18] The
favor enjoyed at Rome by the family of Agrippa under the two reigns
just mentioned, secured to their co-religionists a powerful protection
in all cases not coming within the regulations of the Roman police.

The emperor Nero troubled himself but little about religion.[18.19]
His cruelties towards the Christians were the mere outcrops of his
natural ferocity, not the results of legislative policy.[18.20] The
instances of persecution cited in the Roman annals of this period
emanated rather from the authority of the family than from that
of the Government,[18.21] and happened only in some noble houses
of Rome, where the ancient traditions of domestic rule had been
preserved.[18.22] The provinces were entirely free to adhere to their
own rites, on the sole condition of not interfering with those of
others.[18.23] Provincials residing at Rome were allowed the same
privileges so long as they avoided anything which occasioned public
scandal.[18.24] The only two religions against which the empire made
war in the first century, were Druidism and Judaism; and each of
these was, in truth, a fortress wherein was entrenched a distinct and
turbulent nationality. Most men were convinced that the profession of
Judaism implied hatred of the civil institutions of the empire and
indifference to the welfare of the state.[18.25] When Judaism assumed
the condition of a mere individual or private system of religious
belief, it was not persecuted.[18.26] The rigorous measures which were
put in force against the worship of Serapis, were perhaps suggested
by the monotheistic character[18.27] which caused it sometimes to be
confounded in public estimation with the Jewish and the Christian
religions.[18.28]

It appears, then, that no established legislation prohibited in the
apostolic age the profession of monotheistic creeds.[18.29] The
sectaries were always under _surveillance_ down to the accession of the
Syrian emperors; but it was not until Trajan's time that they were
systematically persecuted, as being intolerant and hostile towards
other sects, and as impliedly denying the authority of the state. In
a word, the only phase of religious belief against which the Roman
empire declared war was theocracy. Its own principle was that of a
purely secular organization. It did not admit that religion could
have any civil or political connexions or consequences. Above all it
would not admit of any association within the state and independent
of the state. This point it is essential to remember. It was in truth
the root from which sprang all the persecutions. The law concerning
the confraternities was in a much greater degree than religious
intolerance, the fatal cause of the cruelties which disgraced the
reigns of the most liberal emperors.

The Greeks had led the way for the Romans, as well in matters relating
to private associations as in all other results of thought and
refinement. The Greek ηρανοι or θιασοι of Athens, Rhodes, and
the Islands of the Archipelago were useful societies for mutual
assistance in the way of loans, fire assurance, common religious
observances, and harmless amusement.[18.30] Each society had its rules
carved on a _stela_, its archives, its common fund, provided by both
voluntary contributions and assessments. The members met together to
celebrate the festivals and to hold banquets, where cordiality reigned
supreme.[18.31] A brother needing money could borrow from the treasury.
Women were admitted into these associations, and had a president for
themselves. The meetings were held in secret, and under strict rules
for the preservation of order. They took place, it seems, in inclosed
gardens, surrounded by porticoes or small buildings, and in the centre
was erected an altar for the sacrifices.[18.32] Each association had
its officers,[18.33] selected by lot for one year, according to the
usage of the ancient Greek democracies, and from which the Christian
"clergy" may have derived its name.[18.34] The presiding officer only
was elected by vote. These officers passed the candidate through a kind
of examination, and were required to certify that he was "_holy, pious,
and good_."[18.35]

There occurred in the two or three centuries which preceded the
Christian era, a movement in favor of these little religious clubs,
almost as marked as that which in the middle age produced so many
religious orders and subdivisions of orders. In the island of Rhodes
alone there is record of nineteen, many of which bore the names of
their founders, or reformers.[18.36] Some of them, particularly those
of _Bacchus_, inculcated lofty doctrines, and sought in good faith to
administer consolation to man.[18.37] If there yet remained in Greek
society a little charity, piety, or good morals, it was due to the
existence and freedom of these private devotional assemblies. They
acted as it were concurrently with the public and official religion,
the neglect of which was becoming more and more apparent day by day. At
Rome associations of this nature met with more opposition, and found
no less favor among the poorer classes.[18.38] The rules of Roman
policy in regard to secret confraternities were first promulgated
under the republic (B.C. 186) in the case of the Bacchanals. The
Romans were by natural taste much inclined to associations,[18.39]
and in particular to those of a religious character;[18.40] but these
permanent congregations were displeasing to the patrician order, who
controlled the municipal power,[18.41] and whose narrow conceptions of
life admitted no other social group besides the family and the State.
The most minute precautions were taken, such as the requirement of
a preliminary authorization, the limiting of the number of members,
and the prohibition against having a permanent _Magister sacrorum_,
and a common fund raised by subscription.[18.42] The same anxiety was
manifested on several occasions under the empire. The body of public
law contained clauses authorizing all kinds of repression;[18.43] but
it depended on the administrative power whether they should be enforced
or not, and the proscribed religions often reappeared in a very few
years after their proscription.[18.44] Foreign immigration, especially
from Syria, unceasingly renewed the soil in which flourished the creeds
so vainly doomed to extirpation.

It is astonishing to observe to what an extent a subject, seemingly
so unimportant, occupied the greatest minds of that age. It was one
of the chief tasks of Cæsar and Augustus to prevent the formation
of new clubs, and to destroy those already established.[18.45] A
decree published under Augustus attempts to define positively the
limits of the right of association, and whose limits were extremely
narrow. The clubs (_collegia_) were to be merely for the purpose of
celebrating funeral rites. They were permitted to meet no oftener than
once a month; they were to attend only to the obsequies of deceased
members, and under no pretext could they obtain an extension of their
privileges.[18.46] The Empire resolved on performing the impossible. In
logical sequence to its exaggerated notion of the state, it attempted
to isolate the individual, to destroy every moral bond of fellowship
among men, and to combat that legitimate longing of the poor to press
closer together in some little refuge, as it were to keep each other
warm. In ancient Greece the "_city_" was tyrannical, but it offered
in exchange for its oppression so much amusement, enlightenment, and
glory, that none thought of complaining. The citizen submitted quietly
to its wildest caprices, and went to death for it with rapture. But the
Roman empire was too vast to be one's country. It offered to every one
great material advantages, but it gave no one anything to love. The
insupportable melancholy of such a life appeared worse than death.

Accordingly, in spite of the efforts of statesmen, the confraternities
multiplied immensely. They were precisely analogous to our
confraternities of the middle age, with their patron saint and their
common refectory. The great families might centre their pride in
their ancient name, their country, and their traditions; but the
humble and the poor had nothing but the _collegium_, and there they
fastened all their affections. The text of the law shows us that
all these clubs were composed of slaves,[18.47] veterans,[18.48] or
obscure persons.[18.49] Within their precincts the free-born man,
the freedman, and the slave, were equal.[18.50] They contained also
many women.[18.51] At the risk of innumerable taunts and annoyances,
and sometimes of severer penalties, men persisted in entering the
_collegium_, where they lived in the bonds of a pleasant brotherhood,
where they found mutual succor in time of need, and where they
contracted obligations which endured even after death.[18.52]

The place of meeting usually had a _tetrastyle_ (portico with four
fronts), where were set up the rules of the club near the altar of
its protecting divinity, and where stood a _triclinium_ for the
repasts.[18.53] These repasts indeed were looked forward to with
impatience; they took place on the day sacred to the patron divinity,
or on the birthdays of members who had contributed endowments.[18.54]
Every one brought his little portion; one of the brotherhood
furnished in turn the accessories of the feast, such as couches,
table-furniture, bread, wine, sardines, and hot water.[18.55] A slave,
newly emancipated, owed his comrades an _amphora_ of good wine.[18.56]
A quiet air of enjoyment animated the repast; it was a positive rule
that none of the business of the society should be discussed, in order
that nothing might disturb the brief interval of enjoyment and repose
which these poor souls were thus providing for themselves.[18.57] Every
violent act or rude remark was punished by a fine.[18.58]

In appearance these clubs were simply associations for burial of the
members.[18.59] But that object alone would have been enough to invest
them with a moral character. In the Roman, as in our own time, and as
in all ages when the religious sentiment is weakened, reverence for
the tomb is nearly all that the masses retain. The poor man loved to
believe that his body would not be cast into those horrible common
trenches;[18.60] that his club would provide for his decent obsequies;
that the brethren who should follow him on foot to the funeral pile
would receive each a little _honorarium_[18.61] (about four cents) in
testimony of respect for the departed.[18.62] The slave especially felt
the need of an assurance that if his master denied him the privilege
of the ordinary rites of sepulture, there would be a little band of
friends who would perform "imaginary obsequies."[18.63] Hardly any was
so humble or destitute as not to contribute a penny per month to the
common fund to procure after his death a little urn in a _Columbarium_,
with a slab of marble on which his name should be carved. Sepulture
among the Romans was of extreme importance, being closely connected
with the _sacra gentilitia_, or family rites. Persons interred together
even contracted a sort of intimate fraternity or relationship.[18.64]

These facts show why Christianity for a long time presented itself at
Rome as a kind of funeral association, and why the earliest Christian
sanctuaries were the tombs of the martyrs.[18.65] If Christianity
had been nothing more, it would not have provoked so much hostility.
But it was much more. It provided a common treasury;[18.66] it
considered itself a complete municipality; it believed in its own
assured permanency and continuity. When one enters on a Saturday
night one of the Greek churches in Turkey, for example that of St.
Photinus at Smyrna, he is struck with the power of those associated
religious memberships existing in the midst of a persecuting or hostile
community. That irregular collection of buildings (church, presbytery,
school, prison); these brethren passing to and fro in their little
inclosed city of refuge; these newly-opened tombs, with the lighted
lamps within; this odor of dampness, decay, and mould; this murmur
of prayer; these appeals for alms--create a deadened and subdued
atmosphere which may, to a stranger, appear sufficiently monotonous
or repulsive, but which must be full of attraction to the affiliated
members.

The societies, when once provided with a special authorization,
possessed at Rome all the rights and privileges of civil
persons.[18.67] This authorization was, however, granted only with
many restrictions whenever the society possessed a treasury and
sought to concern itself with anything but sepulture.[18.68] The
pretext of religious observances, or the performance of vows in
common, was guarded against by law, and formally declared to be one
of the circumstances which attached to an assembly the character of
crime;[18.69] and the crime was nothing less than high treason, at
least as regards the person who called the meeting together.[18.70]
Claudius even closed the taverns where the brethren met, and the small
eating-houses where the poor were furnished cheaply with hot water and
boiled meat.[18.71] Trajan and the more liberal monarchs continued
to view all these societies with distrust.[18.72] Low rank was an
essential condition without which the privilege of religious assemblage
was never accorded, and even then it was granted most sparingly.[18.73]
The lawyers who built up the Roman jurisprudence, so eminent in legal
science, displayed their ignorance of human nature by opposing in every
way, even with the menace of death, and by hedging in with all sorts
of odious and puerile restrictions an everlasting need of the soul
of man.[18.74] Like the authors of the "_Code Civil,_" they regarded
life with a wintry glance. If man's life consisted in amusing himself
under the orders of his superiors, in munching his crust and tasting
his puny pleasures in his rank under the eye of a taskmaster, all this
would be well devised. But the retribution awarded to social systems
which follow this false and contracted view, is first a melancholy
disgust, and next a violent triumph of religious partisans. Never will
man consent to breathe that icy air. He needs the little circle,
the brotherhood where he may live and die amongst his fellows. Our
vast abstract social organizations are not sufficient to supply all
the social instincts which exist in man. Let him alone to attach his
heart to something, to seek consolation where it may be found, to make
brothers to himself, and to draw closer the ties of affection. Let not
the cold arm of the state break into this kingdom of the soul, which
is also the realm of liberty. True life and happiness will not spring
up again in this world until that sad heritage left us by Roman law,
our inveterate distrust of the _private assembly (collegium)_, shall
have disappeared. Association independent of the state, without injury
to the state, is the great question of the future. The laws to be
made in regard to associations will determine whether or not modern
society will tend to the same destiny as ancient. One example should
suffice. The Roman empire bound its own existence to the law relating
to unlawful assemblages. Christians and barbarians, accomplishing in
this respect the task of human conscience, broke down that law, and the
empire having planted itself thereon, went down with it.

The Greek and Roman world, a secular and profane world, which possessed
not the true conception of a minister of religion, which had neither
divine law nor a revealed word, had here stumbled upon a problem which
it was unable to solve. And we may add that if it had possessed a body
of consecrated priests, a severe theology, and a strongly organized
system of religion, it would not have created the secular state, or
inaugurated the idea of a social system founded merely on reason,
and on the human wants and natural relations of individuals. The
religious inferiority of the Greeks and Romans was the result of their
political and intellectual superiority. The religious superiority of
the Jews, on the contrary, has proved the cause of their political
and philosophical inferiority. Judaism and primitive Christianity
comprised the negation of the civil authority, or perhaps we may more
accurately say the putting it under guardianship. Like the system of
Mahomet, they established social order upon the basis of religion. When
human affairs are controlled from that direction, great and universal
proselytisms are made, apostles traverse the world from end to end,
reforming and converting it; but in that manner are not constructed
political institutions, national independence, a dynasty, a code, or a
homogeneous people.





                              CHAPTER XIX.

                        THE FUTURE OF MISSIONS.


Such was the world which the Christian missionaries undertook to
convert. It may now be readily perceived, it seems to me, that the
enterprise was nothing impossible, and that its success was no
miracle. The world was fermenting with moral longings to which the
new religion answered admirably. Manners were losing their rudeness;
a purer religion was looked for; and the notions of human rights and
social improvement were everywhere gaining ground. On the other hand,
credulity was extreme, and the number of educated persons very limited.
To such a world, a few earnest apostles had only to present themselves,
believing in one God and, as disciples of Jesus, imbued with the most
beneficent moral doctrine the ears of men ever listened to, and they
could not fail to be heard. The imaginary miracles which they mingled
with their teaching would not hinder their success; for the number of
those who would refuse to believe in the supernatural or miraculous
was very small. If the apostles were humble and poor, so much the
better. Humanity, in the condition it had then arrived at, could not be
saved but by an effort springing from the masses. The ancient heathen
religions were not susceptible of reform. The Roman state was what
the state always will be--rigid, dry, and unyielding. In such a world
perishing for want of love, the future is the property of him who
can touch the living spring of popular devotion, to do which, Greek
liberalism and the old Roman gravity were alike impotent.

The founding of Christianity is in this view the mightiest work which
the men of the people have ever accomplished. At an early day, it is
true, we find men and women of high rank at Rome joining themselves
to the Church; and about the end of the first century, the examples
of Flavius Clemens and Flavia Domitilla show that Christianity was
penetrating almost within the palace of the Cæsars.[19.1] From the
time of the first Antonines there were some rich men in the Christian
communities; and near the close of the second century we find in them a
few of the most distinguished persons of the empire.[19.2] But at the
commencement, all or nearly all were of humble condition.[19.3] The
noble and powerful of the earth were found in the earliest churches
no more than in Galilee, following the footsteps of Jesus. Now in
these great movements the beginning is the decisive moment. The glory
of a religion belongs entirely to its founders. Religion, in fact,
is an affair of faith, and to exercise faith is an easy thing; the
master-work is to inspire it.

When we try to become acquainted with the marvellous origin of
Christianity, we ordinarily regard matters by the standards of our
own day, and are thus led into grave errors. The man of the people in
the first century, especially in the Greek and Oriental countries,
was in no wise similar to what he is amongst us, and at this day.
Education had not then separated classes as widely as at present. The
Mediterranean races, excepting the Latin tribes, which had lost all
importance since the empire by the conquest of the world had become a
mixture of vanquished nations, were less solid than moderns, and were
more vivacious, excitable, imaginative, and quick of apprehension. The
heavy materialism of our lower classes, and their apparent melancholy
and dulness, which are in part the result of climate, and in part
the sad legacy of the Dark Ages, and which stamp our poor with so
distressful a physiognomy, did not operate upon the same classes in the
early times. Although they were indeed very ignorant and credulous,
they were not much more so than the rich and powerful of their day.

The establishment of Christianity cannot then be considered analogous
to a popular movement in the present age, starting from the common
people and at last commanding the assent of the educated class. This
would with us be simply impossible. The founders of Christianity
belonged to the common people in a certain sense, it is true. They
were clothed in the same manner, lived poorly and frugally, and spoke
without polish, or rather sought only to express their thoughts with
energy. But they were inferior in intelligence to only a very small
and constantly diminishing class of men, the survivors of the refined
age of Cæsar and Augustus. In comparison with the philosophers who
flourished from the time of Augustus to that of the Antonines, the
first Christians were of course illiterate. In comparison with the
great mass of their fellow-subjects, they were enlightened men. At
times they were even looked on as free-thinkers, and the cry of the
populace arose, "Down with the Atheists!"[19.4] This need not surprise
us. The world was making startling progress in credulity. The two
earliest strongholds of Gentile Christianity, Antioch and Ephesus, were
of all the cities in the empire the most superstitious. The second and
third centuries carried the love of the marvellous close to the borders
of folly and madness.

Christianity arose outside of the official world, but not entirely
beneath it. It was only in appearance, and as viewed according
to worldly prejudices, that the disciples of Jesus were of an
insignificant class. The worldling admires pride and strength, and
wastes no affability on inferiors. Honor in his view consists in
repelling insult. He despises the spirit which is meek, long-suffering,
humble, which yields its cloak also, and turns its cheek to the smiter.
He is wrong; the meekness which he disdains is the mark of a loftier
soul than his own; and the highest virtues dwell more contentedly with
those who obey and serve than with those who command and enjoy. And
this accords with reason; for power and pleasure, so far from aiding us
in the practice of virtue, are hindrances in the way.

Jesus knew well that the heart of the common people was the great
reservoir of the self-devotion and resignation by which alone the
world could be saved. Hence he called the poor blessed, deeming it
easier for them to be good than for others. The primitive Christians
were essentially "poor;" it was their rightful title.[19.5] Even if
a Christian possessed riches in the second and third centuries, he
was poor in spirit, and classed himself among the poor, and was saved
from persecution by claiming the privilege of the law concerning the
"_collegia tenuiorum_."[19.6] It is true that all the Christians were
not slaves or persons of low rank; but the social equivalent of a
Christian was a slave, and the same terms were applied to both; while
the cardinal virtues of the servile condition--gentleness, humility,
and resignation--were aimed at by both alike. The heathen writers are
unanimous on this point. All of them without exception recognise in
the Christian the traits of servile character, such as indifference
to public affairs, a subdued and melancholy air, a severe estimate of
the vices of the age, and a settled aversion to the theatres, baths,
gymnasia, and public games.[19.7]

In a word, the heathen were the world; the Christians were not of the
world. They were a little flock apart, hated of the world, reproving
its iniquities,[19.8] seeking to keep themselves "unspotted from the
world."[19.9] The ideal of the Christian was wholly opposed to that of
the worldling.[19.10] The sincere Christian loved to be humble, and
cultivated the virtues of the poor and simple and self-abasing. He had
also the defects which accompany these virtues. He considered as vain
and frivolous many things which are not so. He belittled the universe,
looking on beauty and art with a hostile or contemptuous eye. A system
under which the Venus of Milo is only a stone idol is erroneous, or at
the least partial; for beauty is almost the equivalent of goodness and
of truth. When such ideas prevailed, the decay of art was inevitable.
The Christian set no store by architecture, sculpture, or painting; he
was too much of an idealist. He cared little for the advancement of
science, for it was to him nothing but idle curiosity. Confounding the
higher enjoyments of the soul, by which we touch upon the infinite,
with vulgar pleasures, he denied himself all amusement. He pushed his
virtues to excess.

Another law demands our attention at this period, which will not
fail to have its influence upon the history we are to recount. The
establishment of Christianity corresponds in time with the suppression
of political life in the Mediterranean world. The subjects of the
imperial sway had ceased to have a country. If any one sentiment was
wholly wanting in the founders of the Church, it was patriotism.
They were not even cosmopolites, citizens of the world; for the
planet was to them only a place of exile, and they were idealists
in the most absolute sense. The country is a composite object; it
has body and soul. The soul is its recollections, customs, legends,
misfortunes, hopes, and common regrets; the body its soil, race,
language, mountains, rivers, characteristic productions. But never
were any people so regardless of all this as the primitive Christians.
Judea could not retain their affection. A few years passed, and they
had forgotten the walks of Galilee. The glories of Greece and Rome
were foolishness to them. The regions in which Christianity first
rooted itself--Syria, Cyprus, and Asia Minor--could not recall the
period when they had been free. Greece and Rome still possessed much
national pride. But at Rome the patriotism was hardly felt outside of
the army and a few families; while in Greece, Christianity flourished
only at Corinth, a city which, after its destruction by Mummius and
its rebuilding by Cæsar, was a mixture of men from every land. The
true Greek tribes were then, as now, very exclusive in their notions,
absorbed in the memory of their past; and paid little heed to the new
doctrine. They proved but half-way Christians. On the other hand, the
gay, luxurious, and pleasure-loving inhabitants of Asia and Syria,
accustomed to a life of enjoyment, of easy manners, and used to accept
the customs and laws of every new conqueror, had nothing in the shape
of national pride or cherished traditions to lose. The early centres of
Christianity--Antioch, Ephesus, Thessalonica, Corinth, and Rome--were,
if I may so express it, public cities; cities like modern Alexandria,
whither all races gather, and where that union and tie of affection
between the citizen and the soil which constitutes a nation, were
entirely unknown.

The interest of the public in social questions is always in inverse
ratio to its preoccupation with politics. Socialism advances when
patriotism becomes weak. Christianity was an explosion of social and
religious ideas which could not have had free scope until Augustus
had suppressed political contests. It was destined, like Islamism, to
become in essence an enemy of the tendency to separate nationality.
Many ages and many schisms would be necessary before national
established churches could be derived out of a religion which started
with the negation of the idea of any earthly home or country; which
arose at an epoch when the distinctive _city_ and _citizen_ of early
Greece and Italy had ceased to exist; and when the stern and vigorous
republican spirit of a former period had been carefully sifted out as
deadly poison to the state.

Here then is one of the causes of the grandeur of the new religion.
Humanity is diverse and changeable in feeling, and constantly agitated
by contradictory desires. Great is the love of country and sacred are
the heroes of Marathon, Thermopylæ, Valmy, and Fleurus. One's country,
however, is not everything here below. Man is a man and a child of God
before he is a Frenchman or a German. The kingdom of God, that eternal
vision which cannot be torn out of the heart of man, is the protest of
his nature against the exclusiveness of patriotism. The idea of a great
and universal organization of the race to bring about its greatest
welfare and its moral improvement, is both legitimate and Christian.
The state knows and can know only one thing, the organization of
self-interest. This is something, for self-interest is the strongest
and most engrossing of human motives. But it is not enough. Governments
founded on the theory that man is composed of selfish wants and desires
alone, have proved greatly mistaken. Devotion is as natural as egotism
to the race, and religion is organized devotion. Let none expect, then,
to do without religion or religious associations. Every forward step of
modern society will render the need of religion more imperious.

We can now see how these recitals of strange events may prove
illustrative and instructive. We need not reject the lesson because of
certain traits which the difference of times and manners has invested
with an odd or unusual aspect. In regard to popular convictions, there
is always an immense disproportion between the greatness of the ideal
aimed at by the system of belief, and the trifling nature of the actual
facts which have given rise to it. Hence the particularity with which
religious history mingles common details and actions approaching folly
with its most sublime events and doctrines. The monk who contrived the
"holy vial" was one of the founders of the French monarchy. Who would
not willingly efface from the life of Jesus the story of the demoniacs
of Gadara? What man of cool blood and common sense would have acted
like Francis of Assisi, Joan of Arc, Peter the Hermit, or Ignatius
Loyola? Terms attributing folly or fanaticism to the actions of past
ages must of necessity be deemed merely relative. If our ideas are
to be taken as the standard, there was never a prophet, apostle, or
saint, who ought not to have been confined as a lunatic. Conscience is
very unstable in periods when reflection is not mature, and then good
becomes evil, and evil good, by insensible stages. Unless we admit
this, it is impossible to form a just estimate of the past. The same
divine breath vitalizes all history and gives to it wonderful unity,
but human faculties have produced an infinite variety of combinations.
The apostles differed less in character from us than did the founders
of Buddhism, although the latter were allied more nearly to us in
language and probably in race. Our own age has witnessed religious
movements quite as extraordinary as those of former times; movements
attended with as much enthusiasm, which have already had in proportion
more martyrs, and the future of which is still undetermined.

I do not refer to the Mormons, a sect in some respects so degraded
and absurd that one hesitates to seriously consider it. There is much
to suggest reflection, however, in seeing thousands of men of our own
race living in the miraculous in the middle of the nineteenth century,
and blindly believing in the wonders which they profess to have seen
and touched. A literature has already arisen pretending to reconcile
Mormonism and science. But, what is of more importance, this religion,
founded upon silly impostures, has inspired prodigies of patience and
self-denial. Five hundred years hence, learned professors will seek to
prove its divine origin by the miracle of its establishment.

_Bab-ism_ in Persia was a phenomenon much more astonishing.[19.11] A
mild and unassuming man, in character and opinion a sort of pious and
modest Spinoza, was suddenly and almost in spite of himself raised to
the rank of a worker of miracles and a divine incarnation; and became
the head of a numerous, ardent, and fanatical sect, which came near
accomplishing a revolution like that of Mahomet. Thousands of martyrs
rushed to death for him with joyful alacrity. The great butchery of his
followers at Teheran was a scene perhaps unparalleled in history. "That
day in the streets and _bazaars_ of Teheran," says an eye-witness, "the
residents will never forget.[19.12] To this moment when it is talked
of, the mingled wonder and horror which the citizens then experienced
appears unabated by the lapse of years. They saw women and children
walking forward between their executioners, with great gashes all over
their bodies and burning matches thrust into the wounds. The victims
were dragged along by ropes, and hurried on by strokes of the whip.
Children and women went singing a verse to this effect, 'Verily we came
from God, and to him shall we return!' Their shrill voices rose loud
and clear in the profound silence of the multitude. If one of these
poor wretches fell down, and the guards forced him up again with blows
or bayonet-thrusts, as he staggered on with the blood trickling down
every limb, he would spend his remaining energy in dancing and crying
in an access of zeal, 'Verily we are God's, and to him we return!'
Some of the children expired on the way. The executioners threw their
corpses in front of their fathers and their sisters, who yet marched
proudly on, giving hardly a second glance. At the place of execution
life was offered them if they would abjure, but to no purpose. One of
the condemned was informed that unless he recanted, the throats of his
two sons should be cut upon his own bosom. The eldest of these little
boys was fourteen years old, and they stood red with their own blood
and with their flesh burned and blistered, calmly listening to the
dialogue. The father, stretching himself upon the earth, answered that
he was ready; and the oldest boy, eagerly claiming his birthright,
asked to be murdered first.[19.13] At length all was over; night closed
in upon heaps of mangled carcasses; the heads were suspended in bunches
on the scaffold, and the dogs of the _faubourgs_ gathered in troops
from every side as darkness veiled the awful scene."

This happened in 1852. In the reign of Chosroes Nouschirvan, the sect
of Masdak was smothered in blood in the same way. Absolute devotion
is to simple natures the most exquisite of enjoyments, and, in fact,
a necessity. In the Bab persecution, people who had hardly joined the
sect came and denounced themselves, that they might suffer with the
rest. It is so sweet to mankind to suffer for something, that the
allurement of martyrdom is itself often enough to inspire faith. A
disciple who shared the tortures of Bab, hanging by his side on the
ramparts of Tabriz and awaiting a lingering death, had only one word to
say--"Master, have I done well?"

Those who regard as either miraculous or chimerical everything in
history which transcends the ordinary calculations of common sense,
will find such facts as these inexplicable. The fundamental condition
of criticism is to be able to comprehend the diverse states of the
human soul. Absolute faith is a thing entirely foreign to us. Beyond
the positive sciences which possess a material certainty, all opinion
is in our view only an approximation to the truth, and necessarily
implies some error. The amount of error may be as small as you please,
but is never zero in regard to moral subjects. Such is not the method
of narrow and bigoted minds, like the Oriental for example. The
mental vision of those races is not like ours; theirs is dull and
fixed like the enamelled eyes of figures in mosaic. They see only one
thing at a time, and that takes entire possession of them. They are
not their own masters whether to believe or not. There is no room for
an after-thought with them. People who embrace an opinion after this
fashion will die for it. The martyr is in religion what the partisan
is in politics. There have not been many very intelligent martyrs.
The Christians who confessed their faith under Diocletian, would have
been, after peace was gained for the Church, rather unpleasant and
impracticable personages. One is never very tolerant when he believes
himself entirely in the right, and his opponents entirely in the wrong.

Great religious movements, being thus the results of a confined method
of viewing moral subjects, are enigmas to an age like the present, in
which the strength of conviction is enfeebled. Among us, the man of
sincerity is continually modifying his opinions, because both the world
around him and his own nature are changing. We believe in many things
at once. We love justice and the truth, and would expose our lives in
their cause; but we do not admit that justice and truth can be the
peculiar property of any sect or party. We are good Frenchmen, but we
confess that the Germans and the English excel us in many respects.
Not so in epochs and countries where every man belongs with his whole
nature to his own community, race, or school of politics. Hence all the
great religious developments have occurred in states of society when
the general mind was more or less analogous to the oriental. In fact,
it is only absolute faith that has hitherto succeeded in conquering
souls. A pious servant-girl of Lyons named Blandina, who suffered for
her religion 1700 years ago; a rough chieftain, Clovis, who saw fit
some fourteen centuries back to embrace Catholicism--are still giving
law to us.

Who is there who has not at some time while wandering through our old
cities, now so rapidly being modernized, paused at the foot of one
of the gigantic monuments of the faith of the Middle Age! Everything
around is becoming new; not a vestige of ancient customs remains; the
cathedral alone stands, a little lowered perhaps by men's violence,
but firmly rooted in the soil. _Mole sua stat!_ Its strength is
its right. It has withstood the flood which has washed away its
surroundings. Not one of the men of old, should here visit the spots
which once knew him, could find his former home. Of all the dwellers
there, the rooks alone who built their nests in the lofty niches of
the consecrated edifice, have never seen the hammer of destruction
raised against their abode. Strange destiny! Those simple martyrs,
those rude converts, those pirate church-builders, rule us still. We
are Christians because it pleased them to be so. As in politics, it is
only systems founded by barbarians which have endured; so in religion
it is only the spontaneous, and, if I may so express it, fanatical
movements, which are contagious. Their success depends not on the more
or less satisfactory proofs they furnish of their divine origin, but is
proportioned to what they have to say to the hearts of the people.

Are we then to conclude that religion is destined gradually to die away
like the popular fallacies concerning magic, sorcery, and ghosts? By
no means. Religion is not a popular fallacy; it is a great intuitive
truth, felt and expressed by the people. All the symbols which serve to
give shape to the religious sentiment are imperfect, and their fate is
to be one after another rejected. But nothing is more remote from the
truth than the dream of those who seek to imagine a perfected humanity
without religion. The contrary idea is the truth. The Chinese, a very
inferior branch of humanity, have hardly any religious sentiment.
But if we suppose a planet inhabited by a race whose intellectual,
moral, and physical force were the double of our own, that race would
be at least twice as religious as we. I say "at least," for it is
likely that the religious sentiment would increase more rapidly than
the intellectual capacity, and not in merely direct proportion. Let
us suppose a humanity ten times as powerful as we are; it would be
infinitely more religious. It is even probable that at this degree of
sublime elevation, being freed from material cares and egotism, endowed
with perfect judgment and appreciation, and perceiving clearly the
baseness and nothingness of all that is not true, good, or beautiful,
man would be wholly a religious being, and would spend his days in
ceaseless adoration, passing from ecstasy to ecstasy of religious
rapture, and living and dying in the loftiest delight of the soul.
Egotism is the measure of inferiority, and decreases as we recede from
the animal nature. A perfected being would no longer be selfish, but
purely religious. The progress of humanity, then, cannot destroy or
weaken religion, but will develop and increase it.

       *       *       *       *       *

But it is time that we return to the three missionaries, Paul,
Barnabas, and Mark, whom we left as they sallied forth from Antioch
by the Seleucian gate. In my third book I shall attempt to trace the
footsteps of these messengers of good report, by land and sea, in
calm and storm, through good and evil days. I long to recount that
unequalled epic; to depict those tossing waves so often traversed,
and those endless journeyings in Asia and Europe, during which the
Gospel-seed was sown. The great Christian Odyssey begins. Already the
apostolic bark has spread its sails, and the freshening breeze rejoices
to bear upon its wings the words of Jesus.

                                 FINIS.




                                 NOTES.


                       NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION.

   [I.1] The author of the _Acts_ does not directly give to St. Paul
         the title of apostle. This title is, in general, reserved by
         him for the members of the central college, at Jerusalem.

   [I.2] Hom. Pseudo-Clem., xvii. 13-19.

   [I.3] Justin, Apol. i. 39. In the Acts also is seen the idea that
         Peter was the Apostle of the Gentiles. See especially Chap. x.,
         comp. Petri i. 1.
   [I.4] I. Cor. iii. 6, 10; iv. 14, 15; ix. 1, 2. II. Cor.
         xi. 2, etc.

   [I.5] Letter of Denys of Corinth in Euseb. _Hist. Eccl._
         ii. 25.

   [I.6] French readers, for ample details upon the discussion and
         comparison of the four narratives, may see Strauss, Vie de
         Jésus, 3d sect., chapters iv. and v. (traduction Littré);
         _Nouvelle Vie de Jésus_, 1. i., § 46, &c.; 1. ii. § 97, &c.
         (translation Nefftzer and Dollfus).

   [I.7] The Church early admitted this. See the canon of Muratori
         (_Antiq. Ital._ iii. 854), (Neutestamentliche Studien, Gotha,
         1866), lines 33, &c.

   [I.8] Luke i. 1-4; _Acts_ i. 1.

   [I.9] See especially _Acts_, xvi. 12.

  [I.10] The paucity of language in the New Testament writers is so
         great that each one has his own dictionary; so that the
         writers of even very short manuscripts can be easily
         recognised.

  [I.11] The use of this word, _Acts_ xiv. 4, 14, is very indirect.

  [I.12] Comp. for example, _Acts_ xvii. 14-16; xviii. 5, with
         I. Thess. iii. 1-2.

  [I.13] I. Cor. xv. 32; II. Cor. i. 8; xi. 23, &c.; Rom. xv. 19;
         xvi. 3, &c.

  [I.14] _Acts_ xvi. 6; xviii. 22-23, compared with the Epistle to
         the Galatians.

  [I.15] For instance, the sojourn at Cesarea is left in obscurity.

  [I.16] Mabillon, _Museum Italicum_, i. 1 pars, p. 109.

  [I.17] Col. iv. 14.

  [I.18] See above, p. xii.

  [I.19] Almost all the inscriptions are Latin, as at Naples (Cavala),
         the port of Philippi. See Heuzey, _Mission de Macédoine_,
         p. 11, &c. The remarkable familiarity with nautical subjects
         of the author of the _Acts_ (see especially chapters
         xxvii-xxviii), would give rise to the belief that he was a
         Neapolitan.

  [I.20] For example, _Acts_ x. 28.

  [I.21] _Acts_ v. 36-37.

  [I.22] The Hebraisms of his style may arise from careful reading
         of Greek translations of the Old Testament, and above all,
         from reading the manuscripts of his co-religionists of
         Palestine, whom he often copied word for word. His quotations
         from the Old Testament are made without any acquaintance with
         the original text (for example, xv. 16, &c.).

  [I.23] _Acts_ xvii. 22, &c.

  [I.24] Luke i. 26; iv. 31; xxiv. 13.

  [I.25] Luke i. 31, compared with Matthew i. 21. The name of
         _Jeanne_, known only to Luke, is dubious. See, however, Talm.
         de Bab. Sota, 22 a.

  [I.26] _Acts_ ii. 47; iv. 33; v. 13, 26.

  [I.27] _Acts_ ix. 22, 23; xii. 3, 11; xiii. 45, 50, and many other
         passages. It is the same with the fourth gospel also compiled
         out of Syria.

  [I.28] Luke x. 33, &c.; xvii. 16; _Acts_ viii. 5, &c. The same in
         the fourth gospel: John iv. 5, &c.

  [I.29] _Acts_ xxviii. 30.

  [I.30] See _Vie de Jésus_.

  [I.31] Luke xxiv. 50. Mark xvi. 19, shows a similar arrangement.

  [I.32] _Acts_ i. 3, 9.

  [I.33] See especially Luke i. 1, the expression τῶν πεπληροφορημένων
         ἐν ἡμῖν πραγμάτων.

  [I.34] Ch. x. xxii. xxvi.

  [I.35] The centurion Cornelius, the proconsul Sergius Paulus.

  [I.36] _Acts_ xiii. 7, &c.; xviii. 12, &c.; xix. 35, &c.;
         xxiv. 7, 17; xxv. 9, 16, 25; xxvii. 2; xxviii. 17-18.

  [I.37] Ibid. xvi. 37, &c.; xxii. 26, &c.

  [I.38] Similar precautions were by no means rare. In the Apocalypse
         and the Epistle of Peter, Rome is alluded to in disguised
         language.

  [I.39] Luke i. 4.

  [I.40] _Acts_ i. 22.

  [I.41] See _Vie de Jésus_, p. xxxix. &c.

  [I.42] This is obvious, especially in the history of the centurion
         Cornelius.

  [I.43] _Acts_ ii. 47; iv. 33; v. 13, 26. Cf. Luke, xxiv.
         19-20.

  [I.44] _Acts_ ii. 44-45; iv. 34, &c.; v. 1, &c.

  [I.45] I. Cor. xii-xiv. Comp. Mark xvi. 17, and _Acts_ ii. 4-13;
         x. 46; xi. 15; xix. 6.

  [I.46] {Comp. _Acts_ iii. 2, &c., to xiv. 8, &c.; ix. 36, &c., to
         xx. 9, &c.; v. 1, &c., with xiii. 9, &c.; v. 15-16, to
         xix. 12; xii. 7, &c., with xvi. 26, &c.; x. 44, with xix. 6.}

  [I.47] In a speech attributed by the author to Gamaliel, about the
         year 36, Theudas is spoken of as anterior to Judas of Galilee
         (_Acts_ v. 36-37). Now the revolt of Theudas was in the year
         44 (Jos. _Ant._ xx. v. 1), and certainly after that of the
         Galilean (Jos. _Ant._, xviii. i. 1; B. J., II., viii. 1).

  [I.48] Those who cannot refer to the German works of Baur,
         Schneckenburger, Wette, Schwegler, Zeller, where critical
         questions relative to the Acts are brought to almost a
         definite solution, may consult _Etudes Historiques et
         Critiques sur les Origines du Christianisme_, by A. Stap
         (Paris, Lacroix, 1864), p. 116, &c.; Michel Nicolas, _Etudes
         Critiques sur la Bible; Nouveau Testament_ (Paris, Lévy,
         1864), p. 223, &c.; Reuss, _Histoire de la Théologie
         Chretienne au siècle Apostolique_ I. vi. ch. v.; other works
         of MM. Kayser, Scherer, Reuss, in the _Revue de Théologie_ of
         Strasburg, 1st series, vol. ii. and iii.; 2d series, vol. ii.
         and iii.

  [I.49] For the exact meaning of οὐ προσανεθέμην σαρκὶ και αἴματι,
         comp. Matt. xvi. 17.

  [I.50] He declares it on oath. See chapters i. and ii. of the Epistle
         to the Galatians.

  [I.51] _Acts_ xii. 1.

  [I.52] Jos. Ant. XIX. viii. 2; B. J. II. xii. 6.

  [I.53] The quotation from Amos (xv. 16-17), made by James according
         to the Greek version, and in non-accordance with the Hebrew,
         also shows that this speech is a fiction of the author.

  [I.54] We shall show later that this is the true sense. Any way, the
         question of the circumcision of Titus is of no importance
         here.

  [I.55] Comp. _Acts_ xv. 1; Gal. i. 7; ii. 12.

  [I.56] I. Cor. viii. 4, 9; x. 25, 29.

  [I.57] _Acts_, xxi. 20, &c.

  [I.58] Above all, the Ebionites. See the Homilies Pseudo-Clem.
         Irenæus. Adv. hær. I. xxvi. 2; Epiphanius, Adv. hær., hær.
         xxx; St. Jerome. _In_ Matt. xii.

  [I.59] I would nevertheless willingly lose Ananias and Sapphira.

  [I.60] _De Divinatione_, ii. 57.

  [I.61] Preface to the _Etudes d'Histoire Religieuse_.


                               CHAPTER I.


   [1.1] Mark xvi. 11; Luke xviii. 34; xxiv. 44; John xx. 9, 24, and
         following verses. The contrary opinion in Matt. xii. 40; xxi.
         4, 24; xvii. 9, 23; xx. 19; xxxi. 32; Mark viii. 34; ix. 9,
         10--31; x. 34; Luke ix. 22; xi. 29, 30; xviii. 31 et seq.;
         xxiv. 6-8. Justin, _Pial. cum Tryph._ 106, proceeds from a
         source on which, beginning from a certain epoch, considerable
         reliance may be placed as to the announcements which Jesus
         had made in reference to his resurrection. The synopticals
         acknowledge, moreover, that if Jesus spake of it at all, his
         disciples understood nothing of it (Mark ix. 10, 32; Luke
         xviii. 34: compare Luke xxiv. 8, and John ii. 21, 22).

   [1.2] Mark xiii. 10; Luke xxiv. 17, 21.

   [1.3] Preceding passages, especially Luke xvii. 24, 25; xviii. 31-34.

   [1.4] Talmud of Babylon, _Baba, Bathra,_ 58, a, and the Arabic
         extract given by the Abbé Bargès, in the _Bulletin de
         l'Œuvre des Pélérinages en terre Sainte_, February 1863.

   [1.5] Ibn. Hischam, _Sirot Errasoul_, édit. Wüsdenfeld, 1012, and
         following pages.

   {1.6} {Luke xxiv, 23; _Acts_ xxv; Jos. _Ant._ xviii. 3.}

   {1.7} Ps. xvi. 10. The sense of the original is a little different.
         But the received versions thus translate the passage.

   {1.8} I. Thess. iv. 12, et seq.; I. Cor. xv., entire; Revelation
         xx.-xxii.

   {1.9} Matt. xvi. 21, et seq.; Mark viii. 31, et seq.

  {1.10} Josephus, _Ant._ XVIII., iii. 3.

  {1.11} Carefully reperuse the four stories of the Gospels, and the
         passage I. Cor. xv. 4, 8.

  {1.12} Matt. xxviii. 1; Mark xvi. 1; Luke xxiv. 1; John xx. 1.

  {1.13} John xx. 2, seems to suppose even that Mary was not always
         alone.

  {1.14} John xx. 1, et seq.; and Mark xvi. 9, et seq. It must be
         observed that the Gospel of Mark has, in our printed versions
         of the New Testament, two conclusions: Mark xvi. 1-8; Mark
         xvi. 9-20, to say nothing of two other conclusions, one of
         which has been handed down to us in the manuscript L. of
         Paris, and the margin of the Philoxenian version (_Nov.
         Test._, edit. Griesbach, Schultz, 1, page 291 note); the
         other by St. Jerome, _Adv. Pelag._ l. ii. (vol. iv., 2d
         part, col. 250, edit. Martianay.) The conclusion in the
         sixteenth chapter, 9th and following verses, are wanting
         in the _Codex Sinaïticus_ and in the most important
         Greek manuscripts. But, in any case, it is of great antiquity,
         and its harmony with the fourth Gospel is a striking
         coincidence.

  {1.15} Matt. xxvii. 60; Mark xv. 46; Luke xxiii. 53.

  {1.16} John xix. 41, 42.

  {1.17} See "_Life of Jesus_," p. 38.

  {1.18} The Gospel of the Hebrews contained, perhaps, some analogous
         circumstance (vide St. Jerome, _de Viris Illustribus_, 2).

  {1.19} M. de Vogue, _The Churches of the Holy Land_, pp. 125, 126.
         The verb αποκυλίω (Matt. xxviii. 2; Mark xvi. 3, 4; Luke
         xxvi. 2) clearly proves that such was the situation of
         the tomb of Jesus.

  {1.20} In all this, the recital of the fourth Gospel is vastly
         superior. It is our principal guide. In Luke xxiv. 12, Peter
         alone goes to the tomb. In the conclusion of Mark given in
         manuscript L, and in the margin of the Philoxenian version
         (Griesbach, _loc. citat._) occur τοῖς περὶ τὸν Πέτρον St. Paul
         (I. Cor. xv. 5) similarly introduces Peter only in this first
         vision. Further, Luke (xxiv. 24) supposes that many disciples
         went to the tomb, which observation probably applies to
         successive visits. It is possible that John has here yielded
         to the after-thought which betrays him more than once in his
         Gospel, of showing that he had, in the history of Jesus, a
         first-rate rôle, equal even to that of Peter. Perhaps, also,
         the repeated declarations of John, that he was an eye-witness
         of the fundamental facts of the Christian faith (Gospel i. 14;
         xxi. 24; I. John i. 1-3; iv. 14), should be applied to this
         visit.

  {1.21} John xx. 1, 10; compare Luke xxiv. 12, 34; I. Cor. xv. 5, and
         the conclusion of Mark in the manuscript L.

  {1.22} Matt. xxviii. 9; in observing that Matt. xxviii. 9, 10,
         replies to John xx. 16. 17.

  {1.23} John xx. 11-17, in harmony with Mark xvi. 9, 10; compare the
         parallel, but far less satisfactory account of Matt. xxviii.
         1-10; Luke xxiv. 1, 10.

  {1.24} John xx. 18.

  {1.25} Compare Mark xvi. 9; Luke viii. 2.

  {1.26} Luke xxiv. 11.

  {1.27} Ibid. xxiv. 24.

  {1.28} Ibid. xxiv. 34; I. Cor. xv. 5; the conclusion of Mark in the
         manuscript L. The fragment of the Gospel of the Hebrews in St.
         Ignatius, _Epist. ad Smyrn._, and in St. Jerome, _de Viris
         Ill._, 16, seem to place "the vision of Peter" in the evening,
         and to confound it with that of the assembled Apostles. But
         St. Paul expressly distinguishes between the two visions.

  {1.29} Luke xxiv. 23, 24. It results from these passages that the
         tidings were separately proclaimed.

  {1.30} Mark xvi. 1-8; Matthew xxviii. 9, 10, contradict this. But
         this is at variance with the synoptical system, where the
         women only see an angel. It seems that the first Gospel was
         intended to reconcile the synoptical system with that of the
         fourth, wherein one woman only saw Jesus.

  {1.31} Matt, xxxviii. 2, et seq.; Mark xvi. 5, et seq.; Luke xxiv.
         4, et seq., 23. This apparition of angels is even introduced
         into the story of the fourth Gospel (xx. 12, 13), which it
         completely deranges, being applied to Mary of Magdala. The
         author was unwilling to abandon this traditionary feature.

  {1.32} Mark xvi. 8.

  {1.33} Luke xxiv. 4, 7; John xx. 12, 13.

  {1.34} Matt. xviii. 1, et seq. The story of Matthew is that in which
         the circumstances have suffered the greatest exaggeration. The
         earthquake and the feature of the guards are probably late
         additions.

  {1.35} The six or seven accounts which we have of this scene on
         Sunday morning (Mark having two or three, and Paul having also
         his own, to say nothing of the Gospel of the Hebrews), are in
         complete disagreement with each other.

  {1.36} Matt. xxvi. 31; Mark xiv. 27; John xvi. 32; Justin, _Apol._
         i. 50; _Dial. cum Tryph._, 53, 106. The theory of Justin is
         that immediately on the death of Jesus, there was a complete
         apostasy on the part of His disciples.

  {1.37} Matt. xxviii. 17; Mark xvi. 11; Luke xxiv. 11.

  {1.38} Mark xvi. 9; Luke viii. 2.

  {1.39} Consult, for example, Calmeil, _De la Folie au Point de Vue
         Pathologique, Historique et Judiciaire_. Paris, 1845. 2 vols,
         in 8vo.

  {1.40} See the _Pastoral Letters_ of Jurieu, 1st year, 7th letter;
         Misson, _The Sacred Theatre of Cevennes_ (London, 1707), pp.
         28, 34, 38, 102, 103, 104, 107; Memoirs of Court in Sayons,
         _History of French Literature_, seventeenth century, i. p.
         303. _Bulletin of the French Protestant Historical Society_,
         1862, p. 174.

  {1.41} Matt. xiv. 26; Mark vi. 49; Luke xxiv. 37; John iv. 19.

  {1.42} Mark xvi. 12-13; Luke xxiv. 13-33.

  {1.43} Compare Josephus, B. J., vii. vi. 6. Luke places this village
         at 60 stadia, and Josephus at 30 stadia from Jerusalem.
         Εξήκοντα, which is found in certain manuscripts and editions
         of Josephus, is a correction made by some Christian. Consult
         the edition of G. Pindorf. The most probable locality of Emmaus
         is Kullouvé, a beautiful place at the bottom of a valley, on
         the road from Jerusalem to Jaffa. Consult Sepp. _Jerusalem and
         the Holy Land_ (1863), I. p. 56; Bourquenoud in the _Studies
         of Religious History and Literature_, by the Priests of the
         Society of Jesus, 1863, No. 9; and for the exact distances,
         H. Zschokke. _The Emmaus of the New Testament_ (Schaffouse,
         1865).

  {1.44} Mark xvi. 14; Luke xxiv. 33, et seq.: John xx. 19, et seq.:
         Gospel of the Hebrews in St. Ignatius, _Epist. ad Smyrn._, 3,
         and in St. Jerome, _De Viris Ill._, 16; I. Cor. xv. 5; Justin,
         _Dial. cum Tryph._ 106.

  {1.45} Luke xxiv. 34.

  {1.46} In an island opposite Rotterdam, where the people have
         remained attached to the most austere Calvinism, the peasants
         are persuaded that Jesus comes to their death-beds to assure
         the elect of their justification; many, in fact, see Him.

  {1.47} In order to conceive the possibility of similar illusions, it
         is sufficient to remember the scenes of our own days, when a
         number of persons assembled together unanimously acknowledged
         that they heard unreal voices, and that in perfectly good
         faith. The expectation, the effort of the imagination, the
         desire to believe, sometimes compliances accorded with perfect
         innocence, explain such of the phenomena as are not produced
         by direct fraud. These compliances proceed, in general,
         from persons who are convinced, and who, actuated by a
         kindly feeling, are unwilling that the party should break up
         unpleasantly, and are desirous of relieving the masters of the
         house from embarrassment. When a person believes in a miracle,
         he always unwillingly assists in its propagation. Doubt
         and denial are impossible in this sort of assemblage. You
         would only cause pain to those who do believe, and to those
         whom you have invited. And thus it is that these experiences
         which succeed so well before small committees, are usually
         failures before a paying public, and always so when handled by
         scientific commissions.

  {1.48} John xx. 22, 23, echoed by Luke xxiv. 49.

  {1.49} Matt. xxviii. 17; Mark xvi. 14; Luke xxiv. 39, 40.

  {1.50} John xx. 24, 29; compare Mark xvi. 14; and the conclusion of
         Mark preserved by St. Jerome, _Adv. Pelag._ ii. (v. above at
         page).

  {1.51} John xx. 29.

  {1.52} It is very remarkable indeed that John, under whose name the
         above dictum has been transmitted, had no particular vision
         for himself alone. Cf. I. Cor. xv. 5, 8.

  {1.53} John xx. 26. The passage xxi. 14 supposes it is true that
         there were only two apparitions at Jerusalem before the
         assembled disciples. But the passages xx. 30, and xxi. 25,
         give us far more latitude. Compare _Acts_ 1, 3.

  {1.54} Luke xxiv. 41, 43; Gospel of the Hebrews, in St. Jerome, _De
         Viris Illustribus_, 2; conclusion of Mark, in St. Jerome,
         _Adv. Pelag._, ii.


                              CHAPTER II.

   [2.1] Matt. xxviii. 7; Mark xvi. 7.

   [2.2] Matt. xxviii. 10.

   [2.3] Ibid. xxvi. 32.

   [2.4] Matt. xxviii. 16; John xxi.; Luke xxiv. 49, 50, 52, and the
         _Acts_ i. 3, 4, are here in flagrant contradiction to Mark
         xvi. 1-8, and Matthew. The second conclusion of Mark (xvi. 9,
         et seq.), and even of the two others which are not a part of
         the received text, appeared to be included in the system of
         Luke. But this cannot avail in opposition to the harmony of a
         portion of the synoptical tradition with the fourth Gospel,
         and even indirectly with Paul (I. Cor. xv. 5-8), on this
         point.

   [2.5] Matt. xxviii. 16.

   [2.6] Ibid, xxviii. 7; Mark xvi. 7.

   [2.7] Conclusion of Mark, in St. Jerome, _Adv. Pelag._ ii.

   [2.8] Matt. xxviii. 16.

   [2.9] John xxi. 2, et seq.


  [2.10] The author of the _Acts_ i. 14, makes them remain at Jerusalem
         until the Ascension. But this agrees with his systematic
         determination (Luke xxiv. 49; _Acts_ i. 4), not to allow
         of a journey into Galilee after the resurrection (a theory
         contradicted by Matthew and by John). To be consistent in this
         theory he is compelled to place the Ascension at Bethany, in
         which he is contradicted by all the other traditions.

  [2.11] I. Cor. xv. 5, et seq.

  [2.12] John xxxi. 1, et seq. This chapter has been added to the
         already completed Gospel, as a postscript. But it is from the
         same pen as the rest.

  [2.13] John xxi. 9-14; compare Luke xxiv. 41-43. John combines in
         one the two scenes of the fishing and the meal. But Luke
         arranges the matter differently. At all events, if we consider
         with attention the verses of John xxi. 14, 15, we shall come
         to the conclusion that these harmonies of John are somewhat
         artificial. Hallucinations, at the moment of their conception,
         are always isolated. It is later that consistent anecdotes
         are formed out of them. This habit of coupling together as
         consecutive events facts which are separated by months and
         weeks, is seen, in a very striking manner, by comparing
         together two passages of the same writer, Luke, Gospel, xxiv.
         end, and _Acts_ i. at the beginning. According to the former
         passage, Jesus should have ascended into heaven on the same
         day as the resurrection; whilst, according to the latter,
         there was an interval of forty days. Again, if we rigorously
         interpret Mark xvi. 9-20, the Ascension must have taken
         place on the evening of the resurrection. Nothing more fully
         proves than the contradiction of Luke in these two passages,
         how little the editors of the evangelical writings observed
         consistency in their stories.

  [2.14] John xxi. 15, et seq.

  [2.15] Ibid. xxi. 18, et seq.

  [2.16] I. Cor. xv. 6.

  [2.17] The Transfiguration.

  [2.18] Matt, xxviii. 16-20; I. Cor. xv. 6. Compare Mark xvi. 15, et
         seq. Luke xxiv. 44, et seq.

  [2.19] I. Cor. xv. 6.

  [2.20] John affixes no limit to the resuscitated life of Jesus.
         He appears to suppose it somewhat protracted. According to
         Matthew, it could only have lasted during the time which was
         necessary to complete the journey to Galilee and to rendezvous
         at the mountain pointed out by Jesus. According to the first
         incomplete conclusion of Mark (xvi. 1-8), the incidents would
         seem to have transpired as found in Matthew. According to
         the second conclusion (xvi. 9, 20), according to others;
         and, according to the Gospel of Luke, the disentombed life
         would appear to have lasted only one day. Paul (I. Cor. xv.
         5-8), agreeing with the fourth Gospel, prolongs it for two
         years, since he gives his vision, which occurred five or six
         years at least after the death of Jesus, as the last of the
         apparitions. The circumstance of "five hundred brethren"
         conduces to the same conclusion; for it does not appear
         that on the morning after the death of Jesus, the group of
         his friends was compact enough to furnish such a gathering
         (_Acts_ i. 15). Many of the Gnostic sects, especially the
         Valentinians and the Sethians, estimated the continuance of
         the apparitions at eighteen months, and even founded mystic
         theories on that notion (Irenæus _Adv. hær._, i. iii. 2; xxx.
         14). The author of the _Acts_ alone (i. 3) fixes the duration
         of the disentombed life of Jesus at forty days. But this
         is very poor authority; above all, if we remark that it is
         connected with an erroneous system (Luke xxiv. 49, 50, 52;
         _Acts_ i. 4, 12), according to which the whole disentombed
         life of Jesus would have been passed at Jerusalem or in its
         vicinity. The number forty is symbolic (the people spend forty
         years in the desert; Moses, forty days on Mount Sinai; Elijah
         and Jesus fast forty days, &c.). As to the formula of the
         narrative adopted by the author of the last twelve verses of
         the second Gospel, and by the author of the third Gospel, a
         formula according to which the events are confined to one day,
         the authority of Paul, the most ancient and the strongest of
         all, corroborating that of the fourth Gospel, which affords
         the most connected and authentic record of this portion of
         the evangelic history, appears to us to furnish a conclusive
         argument.

  [2.21] Luke xxiv. 34.

  [2.22] John xx. 19, 26.

  [2.23] Matt. xxviii. 9; Luke xxiv. 37, et seq.; John xx. 27, et seq.;
         Gospel of the Hebrews, in St. Ignatius, the Epistle to the
         Smyrniotes 3, and in St. Jerome, _De Viris Illustribus_, 16.

  [2.24] John vi. 64.

  [2.25] Matt. xxviii. 11-15; Justin, _Dial. cum Tryph._ 17, 108.

  [2.26] Matt. xxvii. 62-66; xxviii. 4, 11-15.

  [2.27] Ibid. xxviii. 9, et seq.

  [2.28] The Jews are enraged, Matt. xxvii. 63, when they hear that
         Jesus had predicted his resurrection. But even the disciples
         of Jesus had no precise ideas in this respect.

  [2.29] A vague idea of this sort may be found in Matthew xxvi. 32;
         xxviii. 7, 10; Mark xiv. 28; xvi. 7.

  [2.30] This is plainly seen in the miracles of Salette and Sourdes.
         One of the most usual ways in which a miraculous legend is
         invented is the following. A person of holy life pretends to
         heal diseases. A sick person is brought to him or her, and in
         consequence of the excitement finds himself relieved. Next
         day it is bruited abroad in a circle of ten miles that there
         has been a miracle. The sick person dies five or six days
         afterwards; no one mentions the fact; so that at the hour of
         the burial of the deceased, people at a distance of forty
         miles are relating with admiration his wondrous cure. The
         word loaned to the Grecian philosophy before the _ex votos_
         of Samothrace (Diog. Läert. VI. ii. 59,) is also perfectly
         appropriate.

  [2.31] A phenomenon of this kind, and one of the most striking, takes
         place annually at Jerusalem. The orthodox Greeks pretend that
         the fire which is spontaneously lighted at the holy sepulchre
         on the Saturday of the holy week preceding their Easter, takes
         away the sins of those whose faces it touches without burning
         them. Millions of pilgrims have tried it and know full well
         that this fire does burn (the contortions which they make,
         joined to the smell, are a sufficient proof). Nevertheless,
         no one has ever been found to contradict the belief of
         the orthodox Church. This would be to avow that they were
         deficient in faith, that they were unworthy of the miracle,
         and to acknowledge, oh, heavens! that the Latins were the true
         Church; for this miracle is considered by the Greeks as the
         most convincing proof that theirs is the only good church.

  [2.32] The affair of Salette before the civil tribunal of Grenoble
         (decree of 2d May, 1855), and before the court of Grenoble
         (decree of 6th May, 1857), pleadings of MM. Jules Favre and
         Bethmont, &c., collected by J. Sabbatier (Grenoble Vellot.
         1857.)

  [2.33] John xx. 15. Could it include a glimmering of this?

  [2.34] See above.

  [2.35] John expressly says so, xix. 41, 42.

  [2.36] John xx. 6, 7.

  [2.37] One cannot help thinking of Mary of Bethany, who in fact is
         not represented as taking any part in the event of the Sunday
         morning. See "_Life of Jesus_" p. 341, et seq.; 359, et seq.

  [2.38] Celsus has already delivered some excellent critical
         observations on this subject (in Origen). _Contra Celsum_,
         ii. 55.

  [2.39] Mark xvi. 9; Luke viii. 2.


                              CHAPTER III.

   [3.1] Luke xxiv. 47.

   [3.2] Respecting the name of "Galileans" given to the Christians,
         see below.

   [3.3] Matthew is exclusively Galilean; Luke and the second Mark,
         xvi. 9-22, are exclusively Jerusalemitish. John unites the two
         traditions. Paul (I. Cor. xv. 5-8) also admits the occurrence
         of visions at widely separated places. It is possible that
         the vision of "the five hundred brethren" of Paul, which we
         have conjecturally identified with that "of the mountain of
         Galilee" of Matthew, was a Jerusalemite vision.

   [3.4] I. Cor. xv. 7. One cannot explain the silence of the four
         canonical Evangelists respecting this vision in any other
         way than by referring it to an epoch placed on this side of
         the scheme of their recital. The chronological order of the
         visions, on which St. Paul insists with so much precision,
         leads to the same result.

   [3.5] Gospel of the Hebrews, cited by St. Jerome _De Viris
         Illustribus_, 2. Compare Luke xxiv. 41-43.

   [3.6] Gospel of the Hebrews, cited above.

   [3.7] John vii. 5.

   [3.8] Could there be an allusion to this abrupt change in Gal. ii. 6?

   [3.9] Acts i. 14, weak authority indeed. One already perceives in
         Luke a tendency to magnify the part of Mary. Luke, chap. i.
         and ii.

  [3.10] John xix. 25, 27.

  [3.11] The tradition respecting his sojourn at Ephesus is modern and
         valueless. See Epiphanius. _Adv. heret._ lxxviii. 11.

  [3.12] See _Life of Jesus_.

  [3.13] Gospel of the Hebrews, passage cited above.

  [3.14] Acts viii. 1; Galat. i. 17-19; ii. 1, et seq.

  [3.15] Luke xxiv. 49; _Acts_ i. 4.

  [3.16] This idea indeed is not developed until we come to the fourth
         Gospel (chap. xiv., xv., xvi.). But it is indicated in Matt.
         iii. 11; Mark i. 8; Luke iii. 16; xii. 11, 12, xxiv. 49.

  [3.17] John xx. 22-23.

  [3.18] Ibid. xvi. 7.

  [3.19] Luke xxiv. 49; _Acts_ i. 4, et seq.

  [3.20] Acts i. 5-8.

  [3.21] I. Cor. xv. 7; Luke xxiv. 50, et seq.; _Acts_ i. 2, et seq.
         Certainly it might with propriety be admitted that the vision
         of Bethany related by Luke was parallel to the vision of
         the mountain in Matthew xxviii. 16, et seq. transposing the
         place where it occurred. And yet this vision of Matthew is
         not followed by the Ascension. In the second conclusion of
         Mark, the vision with the final instructions, followed by the
         Ascension, takes place at Jerusalem. Lastly Paul relates the
         vision "to all the Apostles," as distinct from that seen by
         "the five hundred brethren."

  [3.22] Other traditions referred the conferring of this power to
         anterior visions. (John xx. 23.)

  [3.23] Luke xxiv. 23; Acts xxv. 19.

  [3.24] _Acts_ i. 11.

  [3.25] I. Cor. xv. 8.

  [3.26] Matt. xxviii. 20.

  [3.27] John iii. 13; vi. 62; xvi. 7; xx. 77; Ephes. iv. 10; I. Peter
         iii. 22. Neither Matthew nor John gives the recital of the
         Ascension. Paul (I. Cor. xv. 7-8) excludes even the very idea.

  [3.28] Mark xvi. 19; Luke xxiv. 50-52. _Acts_ 2-12. _Apol._ i. 50.
         _Ascension of Isaiah_, Ethiopic version, xi. 22; Latin version
         (Venice, 1522), sub fin.

  [3.29] Compare the account of the Transfiguration.

  [3.30] Jos. _Antiq._ iv., viii. 58.

  [3.31] II. Kings, ii. 11, et seq.

  [3.32] Luke, last chapter of the Gospel, and the first chapter of the
         _Acts_.

  [3.33] Luke xxiii. 52.


                              CHAPTER IV.

   [4.1] Matt, xviii. 20.

   [4.2] _Acts_ i. 15. The greater part of these "five hundred
         brethren" doubtless remained in Galilee. That which is told
         in _Acts_ ii. 41, is surely an exaggeration, or at least an
         anticipation.

   [4.3] Luke xxiv. 53; _Acts_ ii. 46; compare Luke ii. 37; Hegesippus
         in Eusebius, _Hist. Eccles._ ii. 23.

   [4.4] Deuteron. x. 18; I. Tim. vi. 8.

   [4.5] Read the _Wars of the Jews_ of Josephus.

   [4.6] John xx. 22.

   [4.7] I. Kings xix. 11-12.

   [4.8] This work appears to have been written at the commencement of
         the second century of our era.

   [4.9] _The Ascension of Isaiah_, vi. 6, et seq. (Ethiopic version.)

  [4.10] Matt. iii. 11; Mark i. 8; Luke iii. 16; Acts i. 5; xi. 16;
         xix. 14; I. John 6, et seq.

  [4.11] Compare Misson, _The Sacred Theatre of Cevennes_ (London,
         1707), p. 103.

  [4.12] _Revue des Deux Mondes_, Sept. 1853, p. 96, et seq.

  [4.13] Jules Remy, _Journey to the Mormon Territory_ (Paris, 1860),
         Books II. and III.; for example, Vol. I., p. 259-260; Vol. II.
         470, et seq.

  [4.14] Astié, _The Religious Revival of the United States_ (Lausanne,
         1859).

  [4.15] Acts ii. 1-3; Justin _Apol._ i. 50.

  [4.16] The expression "tongue of fire" means in Hebrew, simply, a
         flame (Isaiah v. 24). Compare Virgil's Æneid II. 682, 84.

  [4.17] Jamblicus (De Myst., sec. iii. cap. 6) exposes all this theory
         of the luminous descents of the Spirit.

  [4.18] Compare Talmud of Babylon, Chagiga, 14 b.; Midraschim, _Schir
         hasschirin Rabba_, fol. 40 b.; _Ruth Rabba_, fol. 42 a.;
         _Koheleth Rabba_, 87 a.

  [4.19] Matt. iii. 11; Luke iii. 16.

  [4.20] Exodus iv. 10; compare Jeremiah i. 6.

  [4.21] Isaiah vi. 5, et seq. Compare Jeremiah i. 9.

  [4.22] Luke xi. 12; John xiv. 26.

  [4.23] _Acts_ ii. 5, et seq. This is the most probable sense of the
         narrative, although it may mean that each of the dialects was
         spoken separately by each of the preachers.

  [4.24] _Acts_ ii. 4. Compare I. Cor. xii. 10, 28; xiv. 21, 22. For
         analogous imaginations, see Calmeil, _De la Folie_, i. p. 9,
         262; ii. p. 357, et seq.

  [4.25] Talmud of Jerusalem, _Sota_, 21 b.

  [4.26] _Testimony of the Twelve Patriarchs_, Judah, 25.

  [4.27] Acts ii. 4; x. 34, et seq.; vi. 15; xix. 6; I. Cor. xii, xiv.

  [4.28] Mark xvi. 17. It must be remembered that in the ancient
         Hebrew, as in all the other ancient languages (see my
         _Origin of Language_, p. 177, et seq.), the words meaning
         "stranger," "strange language," were derived from the words
         which signified "to stammer," "to sob," an unknown dialect
         always appearing to a simple people, as it were, an indistinct
         stammering. See Isaiah xxviii. 11; xxxiii. 19; I. Cor. xiv. 21.

  [4.29] I. Cor. viii. 1, remembering what precedes.

  [4.30] I. Cor. xii. 28, 30; xiv. 2, et seq.

  [4.31] I. Sam. xix. 23, et seq.

  [4.32] Plutarch, _Of the Pythian Oracles_, 24. Compare the prediction
         of Cassandra in the Agamemnon of Æschylus.

  [4.33] I. Cor. xii. 3; xvi. 22; Rom. viii. 15.

  [4.34] Rom. viii. 23, 26, 27.

  [4.35] I. Cor. vii. 1; xiv. 7, et seq.

  [4.36] Rom. viii. 26, 27.

  [4.37] I. Cor. xiv. 13, 14, 27, et seq.

  [4.38] Jurieu, _Pastoral Letters_, 3d year, 3d letter; Misson, _The
         Sacred Theatre of Cevennes_, p. 10, 14, 15, 18, 19, 22, 31,
         32, 36, 37, 65, 66, 68, 70, 94, 104, 109, 126, 140; Bruey's
         _History of Fanaticism_ (Montpelier, 1709). I., pages 145, et
         seq.; Fléchier, _Select Letters_ (Lyon, 1734), I., p. 353, et
         seq.

  [4.39] Karl Hase, _History of the Church_, §§ 439 and 458, 5; the
         Protestant Journal, _Hope_, 1st April, 1847.

  [4.40] M. Hohl, _Bruchstücke aus dem Leben und den Schriften_ Edward
         Irving's (Saint-Gall, 2839), p. 145, 149, et seq.; Karl Hase,
         _History of the Church_, §§ 458, 4. For the Mormons, see Remy,
         _Voyage_ I., p. 176-177, note; 259, 260; II., p. 55, et seq.
         For the Convulsionaries of St. Medard, see, above all, Carré
         de Montgeron, _The Truth about Miracles_, &c. (Paris, 1737,
         1744), II., p. 18, 19, 49, 54, 55, 63, 64, 80, &c.

  [4.41] _Acts_ ii. 13, 15.

  [4.42] Mark iii 21, et seq.; John x. 20, et seq.; xii. 27, et seq.

  [4.43] _Acts_ xix. 6; I. Cor. xiv. 3, et seq.

  [4.44] _Acts_ x. 46; I. Cor. xiv. 15, 16, 26.

  [4.45] Col. iii. 16; Eph. v. 49 (ψαλμόι ὔμνοι ῳ δαὶ πνευματικαι).
         See the former chapters of the Gospel of Luke. Compare in
         particular, Luke i. 46, with _Acts_ x. 46.

  [4.46] I. Cor. xiv. 15; Col. iii. 16; Eph. v. 19.

  [4.47] Jeremiah i. 6.

  [4.48] Mark xvi. 17.

  [4.49] I. Cor. xiv. 22. Πνεῦμα in the Epistles of S. Paul, often
         approaches the sense of δυνάμις. The spiritual phenomena are
         regarded as δυνάμεις, that is to say, miracles.

  [4.50] Irenæus, _Adv. hæret._ V., vi. 1; Tertullian, _Adv. Marciom_,
         v. 8. _Constit. Apost._ viii. 1.

  [4.51] Luke ii. 37; II. Cor. vi. 5; xi. 27.

  [4.52] II. Cor. vii. 10.

  [4.53] _Acts_ viii. 26, et seq.; x. entire; xvi. 6, 7, 9, et seq.
         Compare Luke ii. 27, &c.

  [4.54] _Acts_ xx. 19, 31. Rom. viii. 23, 26.


                               CHAPTER V.

   [5.1] _Acts_ ii. 42-47; iv. 32, 37; v. 1, 11; vi. 1, et seq.

   [5.2] Ibid. ii. 44, 46, 47.

   [5.3] Ibid. ii. 46.

   [5.4] No literary production has ever so often repeated the word
         "joy" as the New Testament. See I. Thess. i. 6; v. 16; Rom.
         xiv. 17; xv. 13; Galat. v. 22; Philip i. 25; iii. 1; iv. 4; I.
         John i. 4, &c.

   [5.5] _Acts_ xii. 12.

   [5.6] See _Life of Jesus_, p. xxxix., et seq.

   [5.7] _Ebionim_ means "poor folk." See _Life of Jesus_, p. 182, 183.

   [5.8] To recall the year 1000. All instruments in writing commencing
         with: _The evening of the world being at hand_ or similar
         expressions, are in donations to the monasteries.

   [5.9] Hodgson, in the _Journal of the Asiatic Society_ of Bengal,
         vol. V., p. 33, et seq.; Eugéne Burnouf, _Introduction to the
         History of Indian Buddhism_, i. p. 278, et seq.]

  [5.10] Lucian, _Death of Peregrinus_, 13.

  [5.11] Papyrus at Turin, London, and Paris, collected by Brunet de
         Presle, _Mem. respecting the Serapeum of Memphis_ (Paris,
         1852); Eggee, _Mem. of Ancient History and Philology_, p. 151,
         et seq., and in the _Notices and Extracts_, vol. xviii., 2d
         part, p. 264-359. Observe that the Christian-hermit life was
         first commenced in Egypt.

  [5.12] _Acts_ xi. 29, 30; xxiv. 17; Galat. ii. 10; Rom. xv. 26, et
         seq.; I. Cor. xvi. 1-4; II. Cor. viii. and ix.

  [5.13] _Acts_ v. 1-11.

  [5.14] Ibid. ii. 46; v. 12.

  [5.15] Ibid. iii. 1.

  [5.16] James, for instance, was all his life a pure Jew.

  [5.17] _Acts_ ii. 47; iv. 33; v. 13, 26.

  [5.18] _Acts_ ii. 46.

  [5.19] I. Cor. x. 16; Justin, _Apol_. i. 65-67.

  [5.20] Συνδεῖπνα, Joseph, _Antiq._ XIV. x. 8, 12.

  [5.21] Luke xxii. 19; I. Cor. xi. 24, et seq.; Justin, passage
         already cited.

  [5.22] In the year 57, the institution called the Eucharist already
         abounded with abuses (I. Cor. xi. 17, et seq.), and was, in
         consequence, ancient.

  [5.23] _Acts_ xx. 7; Pliny, _Epist._ x. 97. Justin, _Apol._ i. 67.

  [5.24] _Acts_ xx. 7, 11.

  [5.25] Pliny, Epist. x. 97.

  [5.26] John xx. 26, does not satisfactorily prove the contrary. The
         Ebionites always observed the Sabbath. St. Jerome, in Matt.
         xii., commencement.

  [5.27] _Acts_ i. 15-26.

  [5.28] See _Life of Jesus_, p. 437, et seq.

  [5.29] Compare Eusebius, _Hist. Eccl._ iii. 39 (according to Papias).

  [5.30] Justin, _Apol._ i. 39, 50.

  [5.31] Pseudo-Abdias, etc.

  [5.32] Compare I. Cor. xv. 10, with Romans xv. 19.

  [5.33] Gal. i. 17, 19.

  [5.34] _Acts_ vi. 4.

  [5.35] Compare Matt. x. 2-4; Mark iii. 16-19; Luke vi. 14-16; _Acts_
         i. 13.

  [5.36] _Acts_ i. 14; Gal. i. 19; I. Cor. ix. 5.

  [5.37] Gal. ii. 9.

  [5.38] See _Life of Jesus_, p. 307.

  [5.39] See _Life of Jesus_, p. 150. Compare Papias in Eusebius,
         _Hist. Eccl._, iii. 39; Polycrates, Ibid. v. 24; Clement of
         Alexandria, _Strom_. iii. 6; vii. 11.

  [5.40] For instance ἐπίσκοπος, perhaps κλῆρος. See Wescher, in the
         _Archæological Review_, April, 1866.

  [5.41] _Acts_ i. 26. See below, p.

  [5.42] _Acts_ xiii. 1, et seq.; Clement of Alexandria, in Eusebius,
         _Hist. Eccl._, iii. 23.

  [5.43] _Acts_ v. 1-11.

  [5.44] I. Cor. v. 1, et seq.

  [5.45] I. Tim. i. 20.

  [5.46] Genesis xvii. 14, and numerous other passages in the Mosaic
         code; Mischna, _Kerithouth_, i. 1; Talmud of Babylon, Möed
         Katou, 28, a. Compare Tertullian, _De Animâ_, 57.

  [5.47] Consult the Hebrew and Rabbinical dictionaries, at the word כרת.
         Compare the word _to exterminate_.

  [5.48] Mischna, _Sanhedrim_ ix. 6; John xvi. 2; Joseph. _B. J._,
         vii., viii., 1; III. Maccab. (apocr.), vii. 8, 12-13.

  [5.49] Luke vi. 15; _Acts_ i. 13. Compare Matt. x. 4; Mark iii. 18.

  [5.50] _Acts_ v. 1-11. Compare _Acts_ xiii. 9-11.

  [5.51] _Acts_ i. 15; ii. 14, 37; v. 3, 29; Gal. i. 18; ii. 8.

  [5.52] _Acts_ iii. 1, et seq.; viii. 14; Gal. ii. 9. Compare John xx.
         2, et seq.; xxi. 20, et seq.

  [5.53] According to Matthew xxviii. 1, et seq., the keepers would
         have been witnesses to the descent of the angel who removed
         the stone. This very embarrassed account would also lead us to
         conclude that the women were witnesses of the same act, but it
         does not expressly say so. Anyhow, whatever the keepers and
         the women should have seen, according to the same narrative,
         would not be Jesus resuscitated, but the angel. Such a story,
         isolated and inconsistent as it is, is evidently the most
         modern of all.

  [5.54] Luke xxiv. 48; _Acts_ i. 22; ii. 32; iii. 15; iv. 33; v. 32;
         x. 41; xiii. 30, 31.

  [5.55] See above p. 1, note 1.

  [5.56] See "_Life of Jesus_," p. 275, et seq.

  [5.57] I. Cor. xvi. 22. These two words are Syro-Chaldaic.

  [5.58] Matt. x, 23.

  [5.59] _Acts_ ii. 33, et seq.; x. 42.

  [5.60] Luke xxiv. 19.

  [5.61] _Acts_ ii. 22.

  [5.62] The diseases were generally considered to be the work of the
         devil.

  [5.63] _Acts_ x. 38.

  [5.64] _Acts_ ii. 36; viii. 37; ix. 22; xvii. 31, &c.

  [5.65] _Acts_ ii. 44, et seq.; iv. 8, et seq.; 25, et seq.; vii. 14,
         et seq.; v. 43 and the Epistle attributed to St. Barnabas,
         entire.

  [5.66] James i. 26-27.

  [5.67] Later it was called λειτουργεῖν. _Acts_ xiii. 2.

  [5.68] Heb. v. 6; vi. 20; viii. 4; x. 11.

  [5.69] Revel, i. 6; v. 10; xx. 6.

  [5.70] _Acts_ xiii. 2; Luke ii. 37.

  [5.71] Rom. vi. 4, et seq.

  [5.72] _Acts_ viii. 12, 16; x. 48.

  [5.73] _Acts_ viii. 16; x. 47.

  [5.74] Matt. ix. 18; xix. 13, 15; Mark v. 23; vi. 5; vii. 32; viii.
         23-25; x. 16; Luke iv. 40; viii. 13.

  [5.75] _Acts_ vi. 6; viii. 17, 19; ix. 12, 17; xiii. 3; xiv. 6;
         xxviii. 8; 1 Tim. iv. 14; v. 22; ii. Tim. i. 6; Heb. vi. 2;
         James v. 13.

  [5.76] Matt. iii. 11; Mark i. 8; Luke iii. 16; John i. 26; _Acts_ i.
         5; xi. 16; xix. 4.

  [5.77] Matt, xxviii. 19.

  [5.78] See the _Cholasté_, Sabeau manuscripts of the Imperial Bible,
         Nos. 8, 10, 11, 13.

  [5.79] Vendidad-Sadé viii. 296, et seq.; ix. 1-145; xvi. 18, 19.
         Spiegel, _Avesta_, ii. p. 83, et seq.

  [5.80] I. Cor. xii. 9, 28, 30.

  [5.81] Matt. ix. 2; Mark ii. 5; John v. 14; ix. 2; James v. 15;
         Mischna. _Schabbath_, ii. 6; _Talm. of Bab. Nedarim, fol._ 41
         a.

  [5.82] Matt. ix. 33; xii. 22; Mark ix. 16, 24; Luke xi. 14; _Acts_
         xix. 12; Tertullian _Apol._ xxii.; adv. Mark iv. 8.

  [5.83] _Acts_ v. 16; xix. 12-16.

  [5.84] James v. 14-15; Mark vi. 13.

  [5.85] Luke x. 34.

  [5.86] Mark xvi. 18; _Acts_ xxviii. 8.

  [5.87] I. Thess. iv. 13, et seq.; I. Cor. xv. 12, et seq.

  [5.88] Phil. i. 33, seems to be a shade different. But compare I.
         Thess. iv. 14-17. See, above all, Revel, xx. 4-6.

  [5.89] Paul, in previously cited passages, and Phil. iii. 11; Revel.
         xx. entire; Papias, in Eusebius, _Hist. Eccl._ iii. 39.
         Sometimes one sees a different belief springing up, above all
         in Luke (Gospel xvi. 22, et seq.; xxiii. 43, 46). But this is
         a weak authority on a point of Jewish theology. The Essenians
         had already adopted the Greek dogma of the immortality of the
         soul.

  [5.90] Compare _Acts_ xxiv. 15 with I. Thess. iv. 13, et seq.;
         Phil. iii. 11. Compare Revel. xx. 5. See Leblant, _Christian
         Inscriptions in Gaul_ ii. p. 81, et seq.

  [5.91] _Acts_ xi. 27, et seq.; xiii. 1; xv. 32; xxi. 9, 10, et seq.;
         I. Cor. xii. 28, et seq.; xiv. 29-37; Eph. iii. 5; iv. 11;
         Revel. i. 3; xvi. 6; xviii. 20, 24; xxii. 9.

  [5.92] Luke i. 46, et seq.; 68, et seq.; ii. 29, et seq.

  [5.93] _Acts_ xvi. 25; I. Cor. xiv. 15; Col. iii. 16; Eph. v. 19;
         James v. 13.

  [5.94] The identity of this chant in religious communities which have
         been separated from the earliest ages proves that it is of
         great antiquity.

  [5.95] Num. v. 2; Deut. xxvii. 15, et seq.; Ps. 106, 48; I. Chron.
         xvi. 36; Nehem. v. 13, viii. 6.

  [5.96] I. Cor. xiv. 16; Justin. _Apol._ i. 65, 67.

  [5.97] I. Cor. xiv. 7, 8, does not prove it. The use of the verb
         ψάλλω does not any more prove it. This verb originally implied
         the use of an instrument with strings, but in time it became
         synonymous with "to chant the Psalms."

  [5.98] Col. iii. 16; Eph. v. 19.

  [5.99] See Du Cange, at the word _Lollardi_ (edit. Didot). Compare
         the Cantilenes of the Cevenols. _Prophetic warnings of Elijah
         Marion_ (London, 1707), p. 10, 12, 14, &c.

 [5.100] James v. 12.

 [5.101] Matt. xvi. 28; xxiv. 34; Mark viii. 39; xiii. 30; Luke ix.
         27; xxi. 32.


                              CHAPTER VI.

   [6.1] _Acts,_ first chapters.

   [6.2] _Acts_ v. 42.

   [6.3] See for example, _Acts_ ii. 34, &c., and in general all the
         first chapters.

   [6.4] I. Cor. i. 22; ii. 4-5; II. Cor. xii. 12; I Thess. i. 5; II
         Thess. ii. 9; Gal. iii. 5; Rom. xv. 18-19.

   [6.5] Rom. xv. 19; II. Cor. xii. 12; I. Thess. i. 5.

   [6.6] _Acts_ v. 12-16. The _Acts_ are full of miracles. That of
         Eutychus (_Acts_ xx. 7-12) is surely related by ocular
         testimony. The same of _Acts_ xxviii. Comp. Papias in Euseb.
         H. E. iii. 39.

   [6.7] Jewish and Christian exorcism were regarded as the most
         efficacious even for the heathen. Damascius, Vie d'Isidore, 56.

   [6.8] _Acts_ v. 15.

   [6.9] I. Cor. xii. 9, &c., 28, &c.; _Constit. apost._ viii. 1.

  [6.10] Irenæus. _Adv. hær._ ii. xxxii. 4; v. vi. 1; Tertull. _Apol._
         23-43; _Ad Scapulam_, 2; _De Corona_, 11; _De Spectaculis_,
         24; _De Anima_, 57; _Constit. Apost._ chapter noted, which
         appeared drawn from the work of St. Hippolytus upon the
         _Chrismata_.

  [6.11] Miracles are of daily occurrence among the Mormons. Jules
         Remy, _A Visit to the Mormons_, I. p. 140, 192, 259-260; II.
         53, &c.

  [6.12] _Acts_ iv. 36-37. Cf. ibid. xv. 32.

  [6.13] Ibid. xiii. 1.

  [6.14] Ibid. xxi. 16.

  [6.15] Jos. _Ant._ XIII. x. 4; XVII. xii. 1, 2; Philo, _Leg. ad
         Caium_, § 36.

  [6.16] Hence for Barnabas his name of Hallévi and of Col. iv. 10-11.
         Mnason appears to be the translation of some Hebrew name from
         the root _zacar_, as Zacharius.

  [6.17] Col. iv. 10-11.

  [6.18] _Acts_ xii. 12.

  [6.19] I. Petri, v. 13. _Acts_ xii. 12; Papias in Euseb. H. E. iii.
         39.

  [6.20] _Acts_ xii. 12-14. All this chapter, where the affairs of
         Peter are so minutely related, appears edited by John-Mark.

  [6.21] As the name of _Marcus_ was not common at that time among
         the Jews, there is no reason for referring to different
         individuals the passages relating to a personage of that name.

  [6.22] Comp. _Acts_ viii. 2, with _Acts_ ii. 5.

  [6.23] Acts. vi. 5.

  [6.24] Ibid.

  [6.25] Comp. _Acts_ xxi. 8-9 with Papias in Euseb. _Hist. Eccl._ iii.
         39.

  [6.26] Rom. xvi. 7. It is doubtful whether Ἰουνία or Ἰουνίας =
         _Junianus_.

  [6.27] Paul calls them his συγγενεῖς; but it is difficult to
         say whether that signifies that these were Jews, of the tribe
         of Benjamin or of Tarsus, or really relations of Paul. The
         first sense is the most probable. Comp. Rom. ix. 3; xi. 14.
         In any event, this word implies that they were Jews.

  [6.28] _Acts_ vi. 1-5; II. Cor. xi. 22; Phil. iii. 5.

  [6.29] _Acts_ ii. 9-11; vi. 9.

  [6.30] The Talmud of Jerusalem, Megilla, fol. 73 d, mentions four
         hundred and twenty-five synagogues. Comp. Midrasch _Eka_, 52
         b, 70 d. Such a number would appear by no means improbable to
         those who have seen the little family mosques which are found
         in every Mahommedan village. But the Talmudic information
         about Jerusalem is of mediocre authority.

  [6.31] _Acts_ vi. 1.

  [6.32] The Epistle of St. James was written in moderately pure Greek.
         It is true that the authenticity of this Epistle is not
         certain.

  [6.33] The savants wrote in ancient Hebrew, somewhat altered.

  [6.34] Jos. _Ant._ last paragraph.

  [6.35] This proves the transcriptions of Greek into Syriac. I have
         developed here in my _Eclaircissements sirés des Langues
         Sémitiques sur quelque points de la Prononciatian Grecque_.
         (Paris, 1849.) The language of the Greek inscriptions of Syria
         is very bad.

  [6.36] Jos. _Ant._ loc. cit.

  [6.37] Sat. I. v. 105.


                              CHAPTER VII.

   [7.1] See the accounts collected and translated by Eugene Burnouf.
         _Introduction to the History of Indian Buddhism_, i. p. 137,
         and following pages, and particularly pp. 198, 199.

   [7.2] See _Life of Jesus_.

   [7.3] _Acts_ ii. 45; iv. 34, 37; v. 1.

   [7.4] _Acts_ v. 1, and following verses.

   [7.5] Ibid. ii. 45; iv. 35.

   [7.6] Ibid. vi. 1, &c.

   [7.7] See chapter vi.

   [7.8] _Acts_ xxi. 8.

   [7.9] Phil. i. 1; I. Timothy iii. 8, and following.

  [7.10] Romans xvi. 1, 12; I. Tim. iii. 11; v. 9, and following.
         Pliny Epist. x. 97. The Epistles to Timothy are most probably
         not from the pen of Saint Paul; but are in any event of very
         ancient date.

  [7.11] Rom. xvi. 1; I. Cor. ix. 5. Philemon 2.

  [7.12] I. Tim. v. 9, and following.

  [7.13] Constit. Apost. vi. 17.

  [7.14] Sap. ii. 10; Eccl. xxxvii. 17; Matthew xxiii. 14; Mark xii.
         40; Luke xx. 47; James 27.

  [7.15] Mischna, _Sota_, iii. 4.

  [7.16] Talmud of Babylon, Sota 22 a; Comp. I. Tim. v. 13.

  [7.17] Acts vi. 1.

  [7.18] Ibid, xii, 12.

  [7.19] I. Tim. v. 9, and following. Compare Acts ix. 39, 41.

  [7.20] I. Tim. v. 3, and following.

  [7.21] Ecclesiastes vii. 27; Ecclesiasticus vii. 26, and following;
         ix. 1, and following; xxv. 22, and following; xxvi. 1, and
         following; xiii. 9, and following.

  [7.22] For the costume of the widows of the Eastern Church, see the
         Greek manuscript No. 64 in the _Bibliothèque Imperiale_ (old
         building), fol. 11. The costume to this day is very nearly the
         same the type, the religious female of the East, being the
         widow, as that of the Latin nun is the virgin.

  [7.23] Compare the "Shepherd" of Hermas, vis. ii. ch. 4.

  [7.24] Καλογρία, the name of the religious females or nuns of the
         Eastern Church. Καλός combines the significance of both
         "beautiful" and "good."

  [7.25] See Note 7.16.

  [7.26] I. Cor. xii. entire.

  [7.27] The Pietist congregations of America, who are to the
         Protestants what convents are to the Catholics, resemble
         in many points the primitive churches. Bridel, _Recits
         Americains_. (Lausanne, 1861.)

  [7.28] Prov. iii. 27, and following; x. 2; xi. 4; xxii. 9; xxviii.
         27; Eccl. iii. 23, and following; vii. 36; xii. 1, and
         following; xviii. 14; xx. 13, and following; xxxi. 11; Tobit,
         ii. 15, 22; iv. 11; xii. 9; xiv. 11; Daniel iv. 24; Talmud of
         Jerusalem; _Peah_. 15, _b_.

  [7.29] Matthew vi. 2; Mischna, _Schekalim_, v. 6; Talmud of
         Jerusalem, _Demai_, fol. 23, _b_.

  [7.30] _Acts_ x. 2, 4, 31.

  [7.31] Ps. cxxxiii.

  [7.32] _Acts_ ii. 44-47; iv. 32-35.

  [7.33] Ibid. ii. 41.

  [7.34] See chapter vi.

  [7.35] _Acts_ vi. 5; xi. 20.


                             CHAPTER VIII.

   [8.1] Acts iv. 6. See _Life of Jesus_.

   [8.2] Acts iv. 1-31; v. 47-41.

   [8.3] See _Life of Jesus_.

   [8.4] Acts v. 41.

   [8.5] Ib. iv. 5-6; v. 17. Comp. James ii. 6.

   [8.6] Γένος αρχιερατιχον, Acts i.; αρχιερεις in Josephus _Ant._
         xx. viii. 8.

   [8.7] Acts xv. 5; xxi. 20.

   [8.8] Let us add that the reciprocal antipathy of Jesus and the
         Pharisees seems to have been exaggerated by the synoptical
         Evangelists, perhaps on account of the events which, at the
         time of the great war, led to the flight of the Christians
         beyond the Jordan. It cannot be denied that James, brother of
         the Lord, was pretty nearly a Pharisee.

   [8.9] Acts v. 34, and following. See _Life of Jesus_.

  [8.10] Acts vi. 8; vii. 59.

  [8.11] Probably descendants of Jews who had been taken to Rome as
         slaves, and then freed. Philo, _Leg. ad Caium_, § 23; Tacitus,
         _Ann._ ii. 85.

  [8.12] See _Life of Jesus_.

  [8.13] Matt. xv. 2, and following; Mark vii. 3; Gal. i. 14.

  [8.14] Compare Gal. iii. 19; Heb. ii. 2; Jos. Ant. XV. v. 3. It was
         supposed that God Himself had not revealed Himself in the
         theophanies of the ancient law, but that he had substituted in
         his place a sort of intermediary, the _maleak Jehovah_. See
         the Hebrew dictionaries on the word מלאך.

  [8.15] Deut. xvii. 7.

  [8.16] Acts vii. 59; xxii. 20; xxvi 10.

  [8.17] John xviii. 31.

  [8.18] Josephus, Ant. XVIII. iv. 2.

  [8.19] Ib., Ib., XV. xi. 4; XVIII. iv. 2. Compare XX. i. 1, 2.

  [8.20] The whole trial of Jesus proves this. Compare _Acts_ xxiv. 27;
         xxv. 9.

  [8.21] Suetonius, _Caius_, 6; Dion Cassius lix. 8, 12; Josephus Ant.
         XVIII. v. 3; vi. 10; 2 Cor. xi. 32.

  [8.22] Ventidius Cumanus experienced quite similar adventures. It is
         true that Josephus exaggerates the misfortunes of all those
         who are opposed to his nation.

  [8.23] Madden, History of Jewish Coinage, p. 134, and following.

  [8.24] Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. iv. 3.

  [8.25] Ib., XVIII. v. 3.

  [8.26] _Acts_ viii. 2. The words ἀνὴρ eὐλαβὴς designate a proselyte,
         not a pure Jew. See Acts ii. 5.

  [8.27] _Acts_ viii. 1, and following; xi. 19; Acts xxvi. 10, would
         even lead to the belief that there were other deaths than that
         of Stephen. But we must not misconstrue words in our versions
         of a style so loose. Compare Acts ix. 1-2 with xxii. 5 and
         xxvi. 12.

  [8.28] Compare Acts i. 4; viii. 1, 14; Gal i. 17, and following.

  [8.29] Acts ix. 26-30 prove, in fact, that in the mind of the author
         the expressions of viii. I had not a meaning so absolute as
         might be supposed. [Except that after the first panic was over
         some of the disciples, at first wholly scattered, may have
         returned by the time of Saul's arrival.--Tr.]

  [8.30] This happened in the case of the Essenians.

  [8.31] This happened to the Franciscans.

  [8.32] I. Thess. ii. 14.

  [8.33] Acts viii. 3; ix. 13, 14, 21, 26; xxii. 4, 19; xxvi. 9, and
         following; Gal. i. 13, 23; I. Cor. xv. 9; Phil. iii. 6; I.
         Tim. i. 13.

  [8.34] Gal. i. 14; Acts xxvi. 5; Phil. iii. 5.

  [8.35] Acts ix. 13, 21, 26.]


                              CHAPTER IX.

   [9.1] Acts viii. 1, 4; xi. 19.

   [9.2] Acts viii. 5, and following. That it was not the apostle is
         evident from a comparison of the passages, _Acts_ viii. 1, 5,
         12, 14, 40; xxi. 8. It is true that the verse, _Acts_ xxi.
         9, compared with what is said by Papias (in Eusebius His.
         Ecc. iii. 39), Polycrates (ib. v. 24), Clement of Alexandria
         (Strom, iii. 6), would identify the Apostle Philip, of
         whom these three ecclesiastical writers are speaking, with
         the Philip who plays so important a part in the _Acts_.
         But it is more natural to admit that the statement in the
         verse in question is a mistake, and that the verse was only
         interpolated to contradict the tradition of the churches
         of Asia and even of Hierapolis, whither the Philip who had
         daughters prophetesses retired. The particular data possessed
         by the author of the 4th Gospel (written, as it seems, in Asia
         Minor), in regard to the Apostle Philip are thus explained.

   [9.3] See _Life of Jesus_, ch. xiv. It may be, however, that the
         habitual tendency of the author of the _Acts_ shows itself
         here again. See _Introd._, and supra.

   [9.4] _Acts_ viii. 5-40.

   [9.5] Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. iv. 1, 2.

   [9.6] At this day Jît, on the road from Nablous to Jaffa, an hour
         and a half from Nablous and from Sebastieh. See Robinson _Bib.
         Res_. ii. p. 308, note; iii. 134 (2d ed.), and his map.

   [9.7] The accounts relative to this personage, given by the
         Christian writers, are so fabulous that doubts may be raised
         even as to the reality of his existence. These doubts are all
         the more specious from the fact that in the Pseudo-Clementine
         literature "Simon the Magician" is often a pseudonym for St.
         Paul. But we cannot admit that the legend of Simon rests upon
         this foundation alone. How could the author of the _Acts_, so
         favorable to St. Paul, have admitted a doctrine the hostile
         bearing of which could not have escaped him? The chronological
         series of the Simonian School, the writings which remain to us
         of it, the precise facts of topography and chronology given
         by St. Justin, fellow-countryman of our thaumaturgist, are
         inexplicable, moreover, upon the hypothesis of Simon's having
         been an imaginary person. (See especially Justin _Apol._ ii.
         15, and _Dial. cum Tryph._ 120.)

   [9.8] Acts viii. 5, and following.

   [9.9] Ib. viii. 9, and following.

  [9.10] Justin, _Apol._ i. 26, 56.

  [9.11] _Homil._ Pseudo-Clem. xvii. 15, 17; Quadratus, in Eusebius
         _Hist. Ecc._ iv. 3.

  [9.12] _Acts_ viii. 25.

  [9.13] Ib. viii. 26-40.

  [9.14] I. Macc. x. 86, 89; xi. 60, and following. Jos. _Ant._ XIII.,
         xiii. 3; XV. vii. 3; XVIII. xi. 5; _B. J._, I. iv. 2.

  [9.15] Robinson _Bib. Res._, II. p. 41 and 514, 515 (2d ed).

  [9.16] Talm. of Bab. _Erubin_ 53 b and 54 a; _Sota_, 46 b.

  [9.17] Isaiah liii. 7.

  [9.18] At this day Mérawi, near to Gebel-Barkal (Lepsius, _Denkmæler_
         i pl. 1 and 2 _bis_.) Strabo XVII., i. 54.

  [9.19] Strabo, XVII, i. 54; Pliny VI, xxxv. 8; Dion Cassius liv. 5;
         Eusebius _Hist. Ecc._ ii. 1.

  [9.20] The descendants of these Jews still exist under the name
         of Falâsyân. The missionaries who converted them came from
         Egypt. Their translation of the Bible was made from the Greek
         version. The Falâsyân are not Israelites by blood.

  [9.21] John xii. 20; Acts x. 2.

  [9.22] See _Deut._ xxiii. 1. It is true that εὐνοῦχος might be
         taken by catachresis to designate a chamberlain as functionary
         of the Oriental Court. But δυνάστης was sufficient to render
         this idea; εὐνοῦχος ought then to be taken here in its proper
         sense.

  [9.23] _Acts_ viii. 26, 29.

  [9.24] To conclude thence that all this history was invented by
         the author of the _Acts_ seems to us rash. The author of
         the _Acts_ insists with satisfaction upon the facts which
         support his opinions; but we do not believe that he introduces
         into his narrative facts purely symbolical or deliberately
         invented. See _Introd._

  [9.25] For the analogous state of the first Mormons, see Jules Remy,
         _Voyage au pays des Mormons_ (Paris, 1860), i. p. 195, and
         following.

  [9.26] _Acts_ viii. 39-40. Compare _Luke_ iv. 14.

  [9.27] _Acts_ ix. 32, 38.

  [9.28] Ib. viii. 40; xi. 11.

  [9.29] Ib. xxi. 8.

  [9.30] Jos. _B. J._ III. ix. 1.

  [9.31] _Acts_ xxiii. 23, and following; xxv. 1, 5; Tacitus _Hist._
         ii. 79.

  [9.32] Jos. _B. J._ III. ix. 1.

  [9.33] Jos. _Ant._ XX. viii. 7; _B. J._ II. xiii. 5; xiv. 5; xviii. 1.

  [9.34] Palm. of Jerusalem, _Sota_, 21 b.

  [9.35] Jos. _Ant._ XIX. vii. 3-4; viii. 2.

  [9.36] _Acts_ xi. 19.

  [9.37] Ib. ix. 2, 10, 19.


                               CHAPTER X.

  [10.1] This date resulted from the comparison of chapters ix., xi.,
         xii. of the _Acts_ with Gal. i. 18; ii. 1, and from the
         synchronism presented by Chapter xii. of the _Acts_ with
         profane history, a synchronism which fixes the date of the
         incidents detailed in this chapter at the year 44.

  [10.2] _Acts_ ix. 11; xxi. 39; xxii. 3.

  [10.3] In the Epistle to Philemon, written about the year 61, he
         calls himself an "old man" (v. 9); _Acts_ vii. 57, he calls
         himself a young man.

  [10.4] In the same way that those named "Jesus" often called
         themselves "Jason;" the "Josephs," "Hegesippe;" the "Eliacim,"
         "Alcime," etc. St. Jerome (_De Viris Ill._ 5) supposes Paul
         took his name from the proconsul Sergius Paulus (_Acts_ xiii.
         9). Such an explanation seems hardly admissible. If the _Acts_
         only give to Saul the name of "Paul," after his relations with
         that personage, that would argue that the supposed conversion
         of Sergius was the first important act of Paul as apostle of
         the Gentiles.

  [10.5] _Acts_ xiii. 9, and following. The closing phrases of all the
         Epistles; II. Peter iii. 15.

  [10.6] The Ebionite calumnies (Epiphan. _Adv. hær._ xxx. 16, 25)
         should not be seriously taken.

  [10.7] St. Jerome, _loc. cit._ Inadmissible as the present St.
         Jerome, though this tradition appears to have some foundation.

  [10.8] Rom. xi. 1; Phil. iii. 5.

  [10.9] _Acts_ xxii. 28.

 [10.10] _Acts_ xxiii. 6.

 [10.11] Phil. iii. 5; _Acts_ xxvi. 5.

 [10.12] _Acts_ vi. 9; Philo, _Leg. ad Caium_, § 36.

 [10.13] Strabo XIV. x. 13.

 [10.14] _Ibid_. XIV. x. 14, 15; Philostratus _Vie d'Apollonius_, 1, 7.

 [10.15] Jos. _Ant._, last paragraph, Cf. _Vie de Jésus_.

 [10.16] Philostratus, _loc. cit._

 [10.17] _Acts_ xvii. 22, etc.; xxi. 37.

 [10.18] Gal. vi. 11; Rom. xvi. 22.

 [10.19] II. Cor. xi. 6.

 [10.20] _Acts_ xxi. 40. I have elsewhere explained the sense of the
         word Ἑβραïστί. _Hist. des Langes Sémit._ ii. 1, 5; iii. 1, 2.

 [10.21] _Acts_ xxvi. 14.

 [10.22] I. Cor. xv. 33, Cf. Meinecke. _Menandri fragm._ p. 75.

 [10.23] Tit. i. 12; _Acts_ xvii. 28. The authenticity of the Epistle
         to Titus is very doubtful. As to the discourse in chapter
         xvii. of the _Acts_, it is the work of the author of the
         _Acts_ rather than of St. Paul.

 [10.24] The verse quoted from Aratus (Phænom. 5) is really found in
         Cleanthes (_Hymn to Jupiter_, 5). Both are doubtless taken
         from some anonymous religious hymn.

 [10.25] Gal. i. 14.

 [10.26] _Acts_ xvii. 22, etc. Observe note 23.

 [10.27] See _Vie de Jésus_, p. 72.

 [10.28] _Acts_ xviii. 3.

 [10.29] _Ibid._ xviii. 3; I. Cor. iv. 12; I. Thess. ii. 9; II. Thess.
         iii. 8.

 [10.30] _Acts_ xxiii. 16.

 [10.31] II. Cor. viii. 18, 22; xii. 18.

 [10.32] Rom. xvi. 7, 11, 21.

 [10.33] See above all the Epistle to Philemon.

 [10.34] Gal. v. 12; Phil. iii. 2.

 [10.35] II. Cor. x. 10.

 [10.36] _Acta Pauli et Theclæ_ 3, in Tischendorf, _Acta Apost._,
         apocr. (Leipzig, 1851), p. 41, and the notes (an ancient
         text perhaps, the original spoken of by Tertullian); the
         _Philopatris_, 12 (composed about 363); Malala Chronogr. p.
         257, edit. Bonn; Nicephore, _Hist. Eccl._ ii. 37. All these
         passages, above all that of _Philopatris_, admit that these
         were ancient portraits.

 [10.37] I. Cor. ii. 1, etc.; II. Cor. x. 1, 2, 10; xi. 6.

 [10.38] I. Cor. ii. 3; II. Cor. x. 10.

 [10.39] II. Cor. xi. 30; xii. 5, 9, 10.

 [10.40] I. Cor. ii. 3; II. Cor. i. 8, 9; x. 10; xi. 30; xii. 5, 9,
         10; Gal. iv. 13, 14.

 [10.41] II. Cor. xii. 7-10.

 [10.42] I. Cor. vii. 7, 8, and the context.

 [10.43] I. Cor. vii. 7, 8; ix. 5. This second passage is far from
         being demonstrative. Phil. iv. 3, would imply the contrary.
         Comp. Clement of Alexandria, _Strom._ iii. 6, and Euseb.
         _Hist. Eccl._ iii. 30. The passage I. Cor. vii. 7, 8 alone has
         any weight on this point.

 [10.44] I. Cor. vii. 7-9.

 [10.45] _Acts_ xxii. 3; xxvi. 4.

 [10.46] Ibid. xxii. 3. Paul does not speak of this matter in certain
         parts of his Epistles where he would naturally mention him
         (Phil. iii. 5). There is an absolute contradiction between the
         principles of Gamaliel (_Acts_ v. 34, etc.) and the conduct of
         Paul before his conversion.

 [10.47] Gal. i. 13, 14; _Acts_ xxii. 3; xxvi. 5.

 [10.48] II. Cor. v. 16, does not implicate him. The passages _Acts_
         xxii. 3, xxvi. 4, give reason to believe that Paul was at
         Jerusalem at the same time as Jesus. But it does not follow
         that he saw him.

 [10.49] _Acts_ xxii. 4, 19; xxvi. 10, 11.

 [10.50] Ibid. xxvi. 11.

 [10.51] High-Priest from 37 to 42; Jos. _Ant_. XVIII. v. 3; XIX. vi.
         2.

 [10.52] _Acts_ ix. 1, 2, 14; xxii. 5; xxvi. 12.

 [10.53] See _Revue Numismatique_, new series, vol. iii. (1858), p.
         296, etc.; 362, etc.; _Revue Archéol._, April, 1864, p. 284,
         etc.

 [10.54] Jos. B. J. II. xx. 2.

 [10.55] II. Cor. xi. 32. The Roman money at Damascus is wanting
         during the reigns of Caligula and Claud. Eckhel, _Doctrina
         num. vet._, part 1, vol. iii. p. 330. Damascus money, stamped
         "Arétas Philhellenius" (ibid.), seems to be of our Hâreth
         (communication of M. Waddington).

 [10.56] Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. v. 1, 3.

 [10.57] Comp. _Acts_ xii. 3; xxiv. 27; xxv. 9.

 [10.58] _Acts_ v. 34, etc.

 [10.59] See an analogous trait in the conversion of Omar.
         Ibn-Hiseham. _Sirat errasoul_, p. 226 (Wüstenfeld edition).

 [10.60] _Acts_ ix. 3; xxii. 6; xxvi. 13.

 [10.61] _Acts_ ix. 4, 8; xxii. 7, 11; xxvi. 14, 16.

 [10.62] It is here that the tradition of the middle ages locates the
         miracle.

 [10.63] This results from _Acts_ ix. 3, 8; xxii. 6, 11.

 [10.64] Nahr el-Aroadj.

 [10.65] The plain is really more than seventeen hundred feet above
         the level of the sea.

 [10.66] _Acts_ xxvi. 14.

 [10.67] From Jerusalem to Damascus is over eight days' journey.

 [10.68] _Acts_ ix. 8, 9, 18; xxii. 11, 13.

 [10.69] II. Cor. xii. 1, etc.

 [10.70] I experienced a crisis of this kind at Byblos; and with other
         principles I would certainly have taken the hallucinations
         that I had then for visions.

 [10.71] We possess thirteen accounts of this important episode:
         _Acts_ ix. 1, etc.; xxii. 5, etc.; xxvi. 12, etc. The
         differences remarked between these passages prove that
         the apostle himself varied in the accounts he gave of his
         conversion. That in _Acts_ ix. itself is not homogeneous, as
         we shall soon see. Comp. Gal. i. 15-17; I. Cor. ix. 1; xv. 8;
         _Acts_ ix. 27.

 [10.72] With the Mormons, and in the American trances, almost all the
         conversions are also induced by nervous excitement, producing
         hallucinations.

 [10.73] The circumstance that the companions of Paul saw and heard
         as he did may be legendary, especially as the accounts are on
         this point, being in direct contradiction. Comp. _Acts_ ix. 7;
         xxii. 9; xxvi. 13. The hypothesis of a fall from a horse is
         refuted by these accounts. The opinion which rejects entirely
         the narration in the _Acts_, founded on ἐν ἐμοί of Gal. i. 16,
         is exaggerated, ἐν Ἐμοί in this passage, has the sense of
         "for me." Comp. Gal. i. 24. Paul surely had at a fixed moment,
         a vision which resulted in his conversion.

 [10.74] _Acts_ ix. 3, 7; xxii. 6, 9, 11; xxvi. 13.

 [10.75] This was my experience during my illness at Byblos. My
         recollections of the evening preceding the day of the trance
         are totally effaced.

 [10.76] II. Cor. xii. 1, etc.

 [10.77] _Acts_ ix. 27; Gal. i. 16; I. Cor. ix. 1; xv. 8; Hom.
         Pseudo-Clem, xvii. 13-19. Comp. the experience of Omar, _Sirat
         errasoul_, p. 226, etc.

 [10.78] _Acts_ ix. 8; xxii. 11.

 [10.79] Its ancient Arabic name was _Tarik el Adhwa_. It is now
         called _Tarik el Mustekim_, answering to Ῥύμη ἐυθεῖα. The
         eastern gate (_Bâb Sharki_) and a few vestiges of the
         colonnades yet remain. See the Arabic texts given by
         Wustenfield in the _Zeitschrift für vergleichende Erdkunde_
         of Lüdde for the year 1842, p. 168; Porter, _Syria and
         Palestine_, p. 477; Wilson, _The Lands of the Bible_, II.,
         345, 355-52.

 [10.80] _Acts_ xxii. 11.

 [10.81] The account given in _Acts_ ix. appears to have been formed
         from two mingled narratives. One, the more original, comprises
         vv. 9, &c. The other more developed, containing more dialogue
         and legend, includes verses 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18.
         The 12th verse belongs neither to that which precedes nor to
         that which follows it. The account in chapter xxii. 12-16, is
         more conformed to the above-mentioned texts.

 [10.82] _Acts_ ix. 12. It should read ἄνδρα ἐν ὁράματι according to
         manuscript B. of the Vatican. Comp. verse 10.

 [10.83] _Acts_ ix. 18; comp. _Tobit_, ii. 9; vi. 10; xi. 13.

 [10.84] _Acts_ ix. 18; xxii. 16.

 [10.85] Gal. i. 2, 8-9, 11, &c.; I. Cor. ix. 1; xi. 23; xv. 8, 9;
         Col. i. 25; Ephes. i. 19; iii. 3, 7, 8; _Acts_ xx. 24; xxii.
         14-15, 21; xxvi. 16; Homiliæ Pseudo-Clem., xvii. 13-19.

 [10.86] Gal. i. 17.

 [10.87] Ἀραβία is "the province of Arabia," principally composed of the
         Hauran.

 [10.88] Gal. i. 17, &c.; _Acts_ ix. 19, &c.; xxvi. 20. The author
         of the _Acts_ believes that this first sojourn at Damascus
         was short, and that Paul shortly after his conversion, came
         to Jerusalem and preached there. (Comp. xxii. 17.) But the
         passage of the epistle to the Galatians is peremptory.

 [10.89] Insc. discovered by Waddington and De Vogüé (Revue Archéol.,
         April, 1864, p. 284, &c., _Comptes Rendus_ de l'Acad. des
         Inscr. et B. L., 1865, p. 106-108).

 [10.90] Dion Cass. lix. 12.

 [10.91] I have discussed this in the _Bulletin Archéologique_ of
         Langperier and De Wette, September, 1856.

 [10.92] Gal. i. 16, with following verses, prove that Paul preached
         immediately after his conversion.

 [10.93] Jos. B. J., I., ii. 25; II., xx. 2.

 [10.94] _Acts_ ix. 20-22.

 [10.95] Gal. i. 16. It is the sense of οὐ προσανεθέμην σαρκὶ και αἵματι.


                              CHAPTER XI.

  [11.1] Acts ix. 31.

  [11.2] See the atrociously naïve avowal of 3 Macc. vii. 12, 13.

  [11.3] Read the 3d Book (apocryphal) of Maccabees, entire, and
         compare it with that of Esther.

  [11.4] Suetonius, _Caius_, 22, 52; Dion Cassius, lix. 26, 28; Philo,
         _Leg. ad Caium_, § 25, &c.; Josephus, _Ant._ XVIII., viii.;
         XIX., i. 1-2; _B. J._, II. x.

  [11.5] Philo, _Leg. ad Caium_, § 30.

  [11.6] Philo, _In Flaccum_, § 7; _Leg. ad Caium_, § 18, 20, 26, 43.

  [11.7] Philo, _Leg. ad Caium_, § 29; Josephus, _Ant_. XVIII. viii.;
         _B. J._ II. x.: Tacitus, _Ann_. XII. 54; _Hist_. V. 9,
         completing the first passage by the second.

  [11.8] Philo, _Leg. ad Caium_, § 27, 30, 44, and following.

  [11.9] Acts ix. 31.

 [11.10] Gal. i. 18, 19; ii. 9.

 [11.11] Acts xi. 29, 30.

 [11.12] Acts ix. 32.

 [11.13] At this day, _Ludd._

 [11.14] Acts ix. 32-35.

 [11.15] Jaffa.

 [11.16] Jos. _Ant._ XIV., x. 6.

 [11.17] Acts ix. 43; x. 6, 17, 32.

 [11.18] Mischna, _Ketuboth_, vii. 10.

 [11.19] Compare Gruter, p. 891, 4; Reinesius, _Inscript._, XIV. 61;
         Mommsen, _Inscr. regni Neap._, 622, 2094, 3052, 4985; Pape,
         _Wört der Griech. Eigenn._, on this word Cf. Jos. _B. J._
         IV., iii. 6.

 [11.20] Acts ix. 36, and following.

 [11.21] Ibid. ix. 39. The Greek runs: ὅσα ἐποίει μετ’ αὐτῶν οὖσα.

 [11.22] Ibid. ix, 32, 44.

 [11.23] Acts x. 9-16; xi. 5-10.

 [11.24] Ibid. x. 1; xi. 18.

 [11.25] There were at least thirty-two. (Orelli & Heuzen, _Inscr.
         Lat._, Nos. 90, 512, 6756.)

 [11.26] Compare Acts xxvii. 1. and Heuzen, No. 6709.

 [11.27] Compare Luke vii. 2, and following. Luke is priding himself,
         it is true, upon this idea of virtuous centurions, Jews
         in heart without circumcision (see Introduction). But the
         example of Izates (Jos. _Ant_., xx., ii. 5), proves that such
         situations were possible. Compare Jos. _B. J._, II., xxviii.
         2; Orelli, _Inscr._, No. 2523.

 [11.28] Acts x. 2, 7.

 [11.29] This seems, it is true, in contradiction to Gal. ii. 7-9. But
         the conduct of Peter in that which relates to the admission of
         the Gentiles was never very consistent. Gal. ii. 12.

 [11.30] Acts xi. 18.

 [11.31] Ibid. xv. 1, and following.

 [11.32] II. Cor. ii 32, 33; Acts ix. 23-25.

 [11.33] Gal. i. 18.

 [11.34] Ibid. i. 18.

 [11.35] Ibid. i. 23.

 [11.36] _Acts_ ix. 26.

 [11.37] Gal. i. 18.

 [11.38] _Acts_ ix. 26.

 [11.39] Acts ix. 27. All this portion of the Acts has too little
         historical value to enable us to affirm that this fine action
         of Barnabas took place during the fifteen days that Paul
         passed at Jerusalem. But there is no doubt, in the manner in
         which the _Acts_ present the case, a true sentiment of the
         relations of Paul and Barnabas.

 [11.40] Gal. i. 19, 20.

 [11.41] Ibid. i. 18. Impossible, consequently, to admit as exact the
         28th and 29th verses of Acts ix. The author of the _Acts_
         makes an abusive employment of these ambushes and murderous
         projects. The Acts vary from the Epistle to the Galatians in
         supposing the sojourn of St. Paul at Jerusalem too long, and
         too near to his conversion. Naturally the Epistle merits our
         preference, at least, as to its chronology and the material
         circumstances.

 [11.42] See especially the Epistle to the Galatians.

 [11.43] Epistle to the Galatians, i. 11, 12, and nearly throughout; I.
         Cor. ix. 1, and following; xv. 1, and following; II. Cor. xi.
         21, and following.

 [11.44] We find this sentiment more or less directly; Rom. xii. 14; I.
         Cor. xiii. 2; II. Cor. iii. 6; I. Thess. iv. 8; v. 2, 6.

 [11.45] Gal. i. 22, 23.

 [11.46] _Acts_ xx. 17, 21.

 [11.47] _Acts_ ix. 29, 30.

 [11.48] 48. Gal. i. 21.

 [11.49] Acts ix. 30; xi. 25. The capital chronological datum for this
         epoch of the life of St. Paul is Gal. i. 18; ii. 1.

 [11.50] Cilicia had a church in the year 51. _Acts_ xv. 23, 41.

 [11.51] It is in the Epistle to the Galatians (towards 56), that
         Paul places himself for the first time openly in the rank of
         the apostles (i. 1, and the following). According to Gal.
         ii. 7-10, he had received this title in 51. Still he did not
         assume it, even in the subscription of the two Epistles to the
         Thessalonians, which are of the year 53. I. Thess. ii. 6, does
         not imply an official title. The author of the _Acts_ never
         gives Paul the name of "apostle." "The apostles," for the
         author of the _Acts_, are "the Twelve." Acts xiv. 4, 14, is an
         exception.


                              CHAPTER XII.

  [12.1] Acts xi. 19.

  [12.2] Josephus, _Wars of the Jews_, ii. 4. Rome and Alexandria were
         the two chief ones; compare Strabo xvi. ii. 5.

  [12.3] Compare Otfried Müller, _Antiochian Antiquities_, Göttingen,
         1839, p. 68. John Chrysostom, on _Saint Ignatius_, 4 (opp.
         t. ii. p. 597, edit. Montfaucon): _On Matthew_, Homilies
         lxxxv. 4. (vol. viii. p. 810). He estimates the population
         of Antioch at two hundred thousand souls, without counting
         slaves, infants, and the immense suburbs. The present city has
         a population of not more than seven thousand.

  [12.4] The corresponding streets of Palmyra, Gerasium, Gadara, and
         Sebaste, were probably imitations of the grand _Corso_ of
         Antioch.

  [12.5] Some traces of it are found in the direction of _Bâb Bolos_.

  [12.6] Dion Chrysostome, Orat. xlvii. (vol. ii. p. 229, edit.
         Reiske), Libanius, _Antiochicus_, p. 337, 340, 342, 356 (edit.
         Reiske), Malala, p. 232, et seq., 276, 280, et seq. (Bonn,
         edition.) The constructor of these great works was Antiochus
         Epiphanes.

  [12.7] Libanius, _Antioch._ 342, 344.

  [12.8] Pausanias, vi. ii. 7; Malala, p. 201; Visconti Mus.
         Pio-clemen., vol. iii. 46. See especially the medals of
         Antioch.

  [12.9] Pierian, Bottian, Penean, Tempean, Castalian, Olympic games,
         Jopolis (which was referred to Io). The city pretended to be
         indebted for its celebrity to Inachus, to Orestes, to Daphne
         and to Triptolemus.

 [12.10] See Malala, p. 199; Spartian, _Life of Adrian_, p. 14; Julian,
         _Misopogon_, p. 361, 362; Ammian Marcellin., xxii. 14; Eckhel,
         _Doct. num vet._ part i. 3, p. 326; Guigniaut, _Religions de
         l'Ant._ planches No. 268.

 [12.11] John Chrysostom, _Ad pop. Antioch._ homil. xix. 1; (vol. ii.
         p. 189.) De sanctis martyr. i. (vol. ii. p. 651.)

 [12.12] Libanius, Antioch., p. 348.

 [12.13] Act. SS. Maii, v. p. 383, 409, 414, 415, 416; Assemani, _Bib.
         or._, ii. 323.

 [12.14] Juvenal Sat., iii. 62, et seq.; Stacc. _Silves_, i. vi. 72.

 [12.15] Tacitus _Ann._ ii. 69.

 [12.16] Malala, p. 284, 287, et seq.; Libanius, _De Angariis_, p.
         555, et seq.; _De carcere vinctis_, p. 445, et seq.; _ad
         Timocratem_, p. 385; _Antioch_, 323; Philost., _Vit Apoll._
         i. 16; Lucian, _De Saltatione_, 76; Diod. Sic. fragm. lib.
         xxxiv. No. 34 (p. 358, ed. Dindorf); John Chrysos. Homil. vii.
         in Matt. 5 (vol. vii. p. 113); lxxiii. _in Matt._ 3 (ibid. p.
         712); _De consubst. contra Anon._, 1 (vol i., p. 501); _De
         Anna_, 1 (vol. iv. p. 730), _De David et Saüle_ iii. 1 (vol.
         iv. 768, 770); Julian Misopogon, p. 343, 350, edit. Spanheim;
         _Actes de Sainte Thècle_, attributed to Basil of Seleucia,
         published by P. Pantius (Auvers, 1608) p. 70.

 [12.17] Philostr. _Apoll._ iii. 58; Ausonius, _Clar. Urb._, 2; J.
         Capitolin _Verus_, 7; _Marcus Aurelius_, 25; Herodian ii. 10;
         John of Antioch in the Excerpta Valesiana, p. 844; Suidas, at
         the word Ἰοβιανός.

 [12.18] Julian _Misopogon_, p. 344, 365, etc.; Eunap. _Vie des Soph._,
         p. 496, edit. Boissònade (Didot); _Ammien Marcellin_ xxii. 14.

 [12.19] John Chrysos. _De Lazaro_, ii. 11 (vol. 1. p. 722, 723).

 [12.20] Cic. pro. Archiâ, 3, making allowance for the usual
         exaggeration of an advocate.

 [12.21] Philostratus _Vie d' Apollonius_, iii. 58.

 [12.22] Malala, p. 287, 289.

 [12.23] John Chrysos., Homil. vii. _On Matt._ 5, 6. (vol. vii. p.
         113); See O. Müller, _Antiq. Antioch._, p. 33 note.

 [12.24] Libanius, _Antiochichus_, p. 355-366.

 [12.25] Juvenal, iii. 62 et seq. and Forcellini, in the word
         _ambubaja_, where he observes that the word _ambuba_ is Syriac.

 [12.26] Libanius, _Antioch_ p. 315; _De carcere vinctis_, p. 455;
         Julian Misopogon, p. 367, edit. Spanheim.

 [12.27] Libanius, _Pro rhetoribus_, p. 211.

 [12.28] Libanius, _Antiochichus_, p. 363.

 [12.29] Libanius, _Antiochichus_, p. 354 et seq.

 [12.30] The actual enclosure, which is of the time of Justinian,
         presents the same particulars.

 [12.31] Libanius, _Antioch._, p. 337, 338, 339.

 [12.32] The lake _Ak Denir_, which forms on this side the actual limit
         of the territory of Antakieh, had, as it appears, no existence
         in olden times. See Ritter, _Erdkunde_, xvii. p. 1149, 1613 et
         seq.

 [12.33] Josephus _Ant._, xii. iii. 1; xiv. xii. 6; _Wars of the Jews_,
         ii. xviii. 5; vii. iii. 2-4.

 [12.34] Josephus, _against Apion_, ii. 4; _Wars of the Jews_, vii.
         iii. 2-4.

 [12.35] Malala, p. 244, 245; Jos., _Wars of the Jews_, vii. v. 2.

 [12.36] _Acts_ vi. 5.

 [12.37] Ibid. xi. 19, et seq.

 [12.38] Compare Josephus, _Wars of the Jews_, ii. xviii. 2.

 [12.39] _Acts_ xv. 20, 21. The proper reading is Ἕλληνας Ἕλληνιστας
         comes from a false agreement with ix. 29.

 [12.40] Malala, p. 245. The narrative of Malala cannot, indeed, be
         exact, Josephus says not a word respecting the invasion of
         which the chronographer makes mention.

 [12.41] Malala, p 243, 265-266. Compare "_Memoirs of Academy of
         Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres_," session of 17 August, 1865.

 [12.42] S Athanasius, _Tomus ad Antioch_. (Opp. vol. i. p. 771, edit.
         Montfaucon); S. John ChAsianos Daldianoi Simônianoi,
         Kêointhianoi, Sêthianoi christos christeiosrysostom, _Ad
         pop. Antioch_, Homil. i.
         and ii. beginning (vol. ii. p. i and xx.); _In Inscr._ Act.
         ii. beginning (vol. iii. 60); _Chron. Pasch._, p. 296 (Paris);
         Theodoret, Hist. Eccl., ii. 27; iii. 2. 8. 9. The agreement
         of these passages does not permit of ἐν τῆ καλουμένη Παλαιᾷ
         being rendered by "in that which was called the old town," as
         the editors have sometimes done.

 [12.43] Malala, p. 242.

 [12.44] Pococke, _Descript. of the East_, vol. ii. part i. p. 192
         (London 1745), Chesney, _Expedition for the Survey of the
         Rivers Euphrates and Tigris_, i. 425, et seq.

 [12.45] That is to say, opposite to that part of the old town which is
         still inhabited.

 [12.46] See below.

 [12.47] The type of the Maronites is reproduced in a striking manner
         in the country of Antakieh, Soneideieb, and Beylan.

 [12.48] F. Naironi, _Anoplia fidei Cathol._ (Rome, 1694), p 58,
         et seq., and the work of S. Em. Paul Peter Masad, present
         patriarch of the Maronites, entitled Kitab ed. durr ed.
         manzoum (in Arabic, printed at the convent of Zamisch in the
         Kesronan, 1863).

 [12.49] _Acts_ xi. 19, 20; xiii. 1.

 [12.50] Gal. ii. 11, et seq., presumes it to be so.


                             CHAPTER XIII.

  [13.1] _Acts_ xi. 22, &c.

  [13.2] _Acts_ xi. 25.

  [13.3] _Acts_ xi. 26.

  [13.4] Libanius. _Pro templis_, p. 164, &c.; _De carcere vinctis_, p.
         458.; Theodoret, _Hist. Eccl._ iv. 28; Jean Chrysost.; Homil.
         lxxii. _in Matt._ 3 (vol. vii. p. 705). _In Epist. ad Ephes._
         Hom. vi. 4 (vol. xi. p. 44); In i. Tim. Hom. xiv. 3 &c. (ibid.
         p. 628, &c.); Nicephore xii. 44; Glycas p. 257 (Paris edition).

  [13.5] _Acts_ xi. 26.

  [13.6] The passages I. Petri iv. 16, and James ii. 7, compared with
         Suet. _Nero_ 16, and with Tac. _Ann._ xv. 44, confirm this
         idea. See also _Acts_ xxvi. 28.

  [13.7] It is true that we find Ἀσιανός (_Acts_ xx. 4; Philo. Legatio,
         36; Strabo, etc.). But it seems to be a Latinism like
         Δαλδιανοί, and the names of the sects Σιμωνιανοί, Κηρινθιανοί,
         Σηθιανοί, etc. The Greek derivative χριστός had been χριστειος.
         It serves nothing to say that the termination _anus_ is a Doric
         form of the Greek ηνος; this was not known at all during the
         first century.

  [13.8] Tac. (loc. cit.) so interprets it.

  [13.9] Suet. _Claud._ 25. We shall discuss this passage in our next
         book.

 [13.10] Corpus _Inscr. Gr._ Nos. 2883 d., 3857 g., 3857 p., 3865 l.
         Tertul. _Apol._ 3; Lactance Divin. Inst. iv. 7. Comp. the
         French form _chrestien_.

 [13.11] James ii. 7, only implies an occasional usage.

 [13.12] _Acts_ xxiv. 5; Tertull. _Adv. Marcionem_ iv. 8.

 [13.13] _Nesârâ._ The names of _meschihoio_ in Syriac, _mesihi_ in
         Arabic, are relatively modern, and outlined from χριστιανός.
         The name of "Galileans" is much more recent. Julian gave it
         an official signification. Jul. _Epist._ vii.; Gregory,
         Orat. iv. (Invect. i.), 76; S. Cyrille d'Alex. _Contre Julien_
         ii. p. 39, (Spanheim ed.); _Philopatris_, dialogue falsely
         attributed to Lucian, though really of the time of Julien,
         § 12; Theodoret _Hist. Eccl._ iii. 4. I believe that in
         Epictetus (Arrien, _Dissert._ iv., vii., 6) and in Marcus
         Aurelius (_Pensées_ xi. 3), this name does not designate
         Christians, but rather "assassins" (_Sicaires_), fanatical
         disciples of Judas the Galilean or the Gaulonite, and of
         John of Gisehala.

 [13.14] I. Petri iv. 16; James ii. 7.

 [13.15] _Acts_ xiii. 2.

 [13.16] Ibid xiii 1.

 [13.17] See chapter vi.

 [13.18] _Acts_ xiii. 1.

 [13.19] Euseb. _Chron._ at the year 43; _Hist. Eccl._ iii. 22. Ignatii
         _Epist. ad Antioch._ (apocr.) 7.

 [13.20] I. Cor. xiv. entire.

 [13.21] II. Cor. xii. 1-5.

 [13.22] It places this vision fourteen years before he wrote the
         second Epistle to the Corinthians, which dates about the year
         57. It is not impossible, however, that he was still at Tarsus.

 [13.23] For Jewish ideas about the heavens, see _Testam. des 12 patr._
         Levi. 3; _Ascension d'Isaïe_, vi. 13; viii. 8, and all the
         rest of the book; Talm. of Babyl., _Chagiga_ 12 b.; Midraschim
         _Bereschith rabba_, sect. xix. fol. 19 c.; _Schemoth rabba_,
         sect. xv. fol. 115 d.; _Bammiabar rabba_, sect, xiii fol. 218
         a.; _Debarim rabba_, sect. ii. fol. 253 a.; _Schir hasschirim
         rabba_, fol. 24 d.

 [13.24] Comp. Talmud of Babylon, _Chagiga_, 14 b.

 [13.25] Comp. _Ascension d'Isaïe_, vi. 15; vii. 3, &c.

 [13.26] II. Cor. xii. 12; Rom. xv. 19.

 [13.27] I. Cor. xii. entire.

 [13.28] _Acts_ xi. 29; xxiv. 17; Gal. ii. 10; Rom. xv. 26; I. Cor.
         xvi. 1; II. Cor. viii. 4, 14; ix. 1, 12.

 [13.29] Jos. _Ant._ XVIII., vi., 3, 4; XX., v. 2.

 [13.30] James ii. 5, &c.

 [13.31] _Acts_ xi. 28; Jos. _Ant._ XX., ii. 6; v. 2; Euseb. _Hist.
         Eccl._ ii. 8, 12. Comp. _Acts_ xii. 20; Tac. Ann. xii. 43;
         Suet. _Claud._ 18; Dion Cass. lx. 11. Aurelius Victor, Cas.,
         4; Euseb. _Chron._ year 43, &c. The reign of Claudius was
         afflicted almost every year by partial famines.

 [13.32] _Acts_ xi. 27, &c.

 [13.33] The book of _Acts_ (xi. 30; xii. 25) includes Paul in this
         journey. But Paul declares that between his first sojourn of
         two weeks and his journey for the affair of the circumcision,
         he did not visit Jerusalem. (Gal. ii. 1.) See Introduction.

 [13.34] Gal. i., 17-19.

 [13.35] _Acts_ xiii. 3; xv. 36; xviii. 23.

 [13.36] Ibid. xiv. 25; xviii. 22.


                              CHAPTER XIV.

  [14.1] The inscriptions of these countries fully confirm the
         indications of Josephus. (Comptes Rendus de l'Acad. des Inscr.
         _I. B. L._, 1865. pp. 106, 109.)

  [14.2] Josephus, _Ant._ xix. iv. _B. J._, ii. xi.

  [14.3] _Ib._ xix. v. i.; vi. i.; _B. J._, II. xi. 5; Dion Cassius,
         LX. 8.

  [14.4] Dion Cassius, LIX. 24.

  [14.5] Jos. _Ant._ xix. ix. 1.

  [14.6] Ibid. XIX. vi. 1, 3; ii. 3, 4; viii. 2; ix. 1.

  [14.7] Ibid. XIX. vii. 4.

  [14.8] Ibid. XIX. vi. 3.

  [14.9] Juvenal, Sat. vi. 158, 159; Persius, Sat. v. 180.

 [14.10] Philo. _In Flaccum_, §5, and following.

 [14.11] Jos. _Ant._ XIX. v. 2, and sequel; xx. vi. 3.; _B. J._, II.
         xii. 7. The restrictive measures which he took against the
         Jews of Rome (_Acts_ xviii. 2; Suetonius _Claude_, 25; Dion
         Cassius, LX. 6) were connected with local circumstances.

 [14.12] Jos. _Ant._ xix. vi. 3.

 [14.13] Ibid. xix. vii 2; _B. J._ II. xi. 6; V. iv. 2. Tacitus, Hist.
         v. 12.

 [14.14] Tacitus, _Ann._ vi. 47.

 [14.15] Jos. _Ant._ XIX. vii. 2; vii. 21; viii. 1; XX. i. 1.

 [14.16] Ibid. XIX. viii. 1.

 [14.17] Suetonius, _Caius_, 22, 26, 35; Dion Cassius, lix. 24; lx.
         8. Tacitus, _Ann._ xi. 8. As a type of the part these little
         Eastern Kings played, study the career of Herod Agrippa I. in
         Josephus (_Ant._ xviii. and xix.) Compare Horace, _Sat._ I.
         vii.

 [14.18] Supra.

 [14.19] Acts xii. 3.

 [14.20] Ibid. xii. 1, and following.

 [14.21] James was in fact beheaded, and not stoned to death.

 [14.22] Acts xii. 3, and following.

 [14.23] _Ibid._ xii. 9, 11. The account in the Acts is so lively and
         just, that it is difficult to find any place in it for any
         prolonged legendary elaboration.

 [14.24] Jos. _Ant._ xix. viii. 2; Acts xii. 18, 23.

 [14.25] Ibid. xix. vii. 4.

 [14.26] _Acts._ xii. 23. Compare 2 Macc. ix. 9; Jos. _B. J._ I.
         xxxiii. 5; Talmud of Bab. _Sota_, 35 a.

 [14.27] Jos. _Ant._ XIX. vi. 1; XX. i. 1, 2.

 [14.28] Ibid. xx. v. 2; _B. J._ ii. xv. 1; xviii. 7, and following;
         IV. x. 6; V. i. 6; Tacitus, _Ann._, xv. 28. _Hist._ i. 11; ii.
         79; Suetonius, _Vesp._ 6; _Corpus Inscr. Græc._ No. 4957. (cf.
         ibid. iii. p. 311.)

 [14.29] Jos. _Ant._ XX. i. 3.

 [14.30] Ibid. XX. v. 4, _B. J._ II. xii.

 [14.31] Josephus, who relates with so much care, the history of these
         agitations in all its details, never mixes up the Christians
         with them.

 [14.32] Jos. _Against Apion_, ii. 39; Dion Cassius, lxvi. 4.

 [14.33] Jos., _B. J._, IV., iv. 3; V., xiii. 6; Suetonius, _Aug._, 93;
         Strabo, XVI., ii. 34, 37; Tacitus, _Hist._, v. 5.

 [14.34] Jos., _Ant._, XIII., ix. 1; xi. 3; xv. 4; XV., vii. 9.

 [14.35] Jos., _B. J._, II., xvii. 10; _Vita_, 23.

 [14.36] Matt, xxiii. 13.

 [14.37] Jos., _Ant._, XX., vii. 1, 3; Compare XVI., vii. 6.

 [14.38] Ibid. XX., ii. 4.

 [14.39] Ibid. XX, ii. 5, 6; iv. 1.

 [14.40] Jos., _B. J._, II., xx. 2.

 [14.41] Seneca, fragment in St. Augustin. _De civ. Dei_, vi. 11.

 [14.42] Jos., _Ant._, XX., ii.-iv.

 [14.43] Tacitus, _Ann._, xii. 13, 14. The greater part of the names of
         this] family are Persian.

 [14.44] The name of "Helen" proves this. Still, it is remarkable that
         the Greek does not figure upon the bi-lingual inscription
         (Syriac and Syro-Chaldaic) of the tomb of a princess of the
         family, discovered and brought to Paris by M. de Saulcy. See
         _Journal Asiatique_, Dec., 1865.

 [14.45] Cf. Bereschith rabba, xlvi. 51 d.

 [14.46] It is according to all appearances the monument known at
         this day under the name of "Tomb of the Kings." See _Journal
         Asiatique_, passage cited.

 [14.47] Jos., _B. J._, ii., xix. 2; vi., vi. 4.

 [14.48] Talmud of Jerusalem, _Peah_, 15 b., where there are put into
         the mouth of one of the Monobaze maxims that exactly recall
         the Gospel (Matt. vi. 19 and following). Talmud of Bab., _Baba
         Bathra_, 11 a; _Joma_, 37 a; _Nazir_, 19 b; _Schabbath_, 68 b;
         _Sifra_, 70 a; _Bereschith rabba_, xlvi., fol. 51 d.

 [14.49] Moses of Khorene, ii. 35; Orose, vii. 6.

 [14.50] Luke, xxi. 21.

 [14.51] Τὰ πάτρια ἔθη, an expression so familiar with Josephus, when
         he defends the position of the Jews in the pagan world.


                              CHAPTER XV.

  [15.1] It is well known that no MS. of the Talmud is extant to
         control the printed editions.

  [15.2] Jos., _Ant._, XX., v. 2.

  [15.3] Jos., _B.J._, II., xvii. 8-10; _Vita_, 5.

  [15.4] The comparison of Christianity with the two movements of Judas
         and Theudas is made by the author of the _Acts_ himself. (V.
         36.)

  [15.5] Jos. _Ant._, XX., v. 1; _Acts_, u.s. Remark the anachronism in
         _Acts_.

  [15.6] Jos. _Ant._, XVIII., iv. 1, 2.

  [15.7] Jos. _Ant._, XX., v. 3, 4; _B. J._, ii., xii. 1, 2; Tacit.,
         _Ann._, xii. 54.

  [15.8] Jos. _Ant._, XX., viii. 5.

  [15.9] Jos. _Ant._, XX., viii. 5; _B. J._, II., xiii. 3.

 [15.10] Jos. _B.J._, VII. viii. 1; Mischna, _Sanhédrin_, ix. 6.

 [15.11] Jos. _Ant._, XX., viii. 6, 10; _B. J._, II., xiii. 4.

 [15.12] Jos. _Ant._, XX., viii. 6; _B. J._, II., xiii. 5; _Acts_ xxi.
         38.

 [15.13] Jos. _Ant._, XX., viii. 6; _B. J._, II., xiii. 6.

 [15.14] See ante, p. 153, note.

 [15.15] Justin, Apol, 1, 26, 56. It is singular that Josephus, so well
         informed on Samaritan affairs, does not mention him.

 [15.16] _Acts_ viii. 9, etc.

 [15.17] It cannot be considered entirely apocryphal in view of the
         agreement between the system set forth in it, and what little
         we learn from the _Acts_ concerning the doctrine of Simon upon
         miraculous powers.

 [15.18] Homil. Pseudo-Clem., ii. 22, 24.

 [15.19] Justin, _Apol._ 1, 26, 56; ii. 15. Dial. cum Tryphone, 120;
         Iren. _Adv. hær_. I. xxiii. 2-5; xxvii. 4; II. præf; III.
         præf; Homiliæ pseudo-clem. i. 15; ii. 22, 25, etc.; Recogn.
         i. 72; ii. 7, etc.; iii. 47; Philosophumena IV. vii.; VI. i.;
         X. iv.; Epiph. _Adv. hær._ hær. xxi.; Orig. _Cont. Cels._ v.
         62; vi. 11; Tertull. _De Anima_, 34; _Constit. apost._ vi. 16;
         S. Jerome, _In Matt._ xxiv. 5; Theod. _Hæret. fab._ i.1. It is
         from the quotations given in the _Philosophumena_, and not in
         the travesties of the Fathers, that an idea may be obtained of
         "The Great Exposition."

 [15.20] Philosophum., IV. vii.; VI. i. 9, 12, 13, 17, 18. Compare
         Revel. i. 4, 8; iv. 8; xi. 17.

 [15.21] _Philosophum._, VI. i. 17.

 [15.22] Ibid. VI. i. 16.

 [15.23] _Act._ viii. 10; _Philosophum._, VI. i. 18; Homil.
         Pseudo-Clem., ii. 22.

 [15.24] Allusion to the adventure of the poet Stesichorus.

 [15.25] Iren. _Adv._ hær. I. xxiii. 2-4; Homil. Pseudo-Clem., ii. 23.

 [15.26] Philosophum. VI. i. 16.

 [15.27] See _Vie de Jesus_, p. 247-249.

 [15.28] Ibid. p. 247, note 4.

 [15.29] _Chron. Samarit._ c. 10 (edit. Juynboll Leyden, 1848).
         Cf. Reland, _De Sam._ § 7; _Dissertat. miscell._ Part II.
         Gesenius, _Comment de Sam. Theol._ (Halle, 1824), p. 24, etc.

 [15.30] In a quotation given in the Philosophumena, VI. i. 16, is a
         citation from the synoptical gospels which seems to be given
         as from the text of the "Great Exposition." But this may be an
         error.

 [15.31] Homil. Pseudo-Clem. II. 23-24.

 [15.32] Iren. _Adv. hær._ I. xxiii. 3. _Philosophum._ VI. i. 19.

 [15.33] Homil. Pseudo-Clem. ii. 22. Recogn. II. 14.

 [15.34] Iren. _Adv._ hær. II. præf. III. præf.

 [15.35] See the Epistle (probably authentic) of Paul to the
         Colossians, i. 15, &c.

 [15.36] Epiph. _Adv._ hær. L. xxx. 1.

 [15.37] An argument for the latter hypothesis is, that Simon's sect
         soon changed into a school of fortune-tellers, and for the
         manufacture of philters and charms. _Philosoph._ VI. i. 20.
         Tertull. De Anima, 57.

 [15.38] Philosophum. VI. i. 20. Cf. Orig. _Contra Cels._ i. 57; vi. 11.

 [15.39] Hegesip. in Euseb. _Hist. Eccl._ iv. 22; Clem. Alex. _Strom._
         vii. 17; _Constit. apost._ vi. 8, 16; xviii. 1, &c. Justin,
         Apol. i. 26, 56; Iren. _Adv. hær._ I. xxiii. init. Theod. Hær.
         fol. I. i. 2. Tertull. _De Præscr._ 47; De Anima, 50.

 [15.40] The most celebrated is that of Dositheus.

 [15.41] _Act._ viii. 9; Iren. _Adv. hær._ xxiii. 1.

 [15.42] _Philosophum._ VI. i. 19-20. The author attributes these
         perverse doctrines only to Simon's disciples; but if the
         disciples entertained them, the master must have shared them
         in some degree.

 [15.43] We shall hereafter see what these narrations signify.

 [15.44] The inscription SIMONI DEO SANCTO, stated by Justin
         to exist in the island (_Apol._ I. 26) of the Tiber, and
         mentioned also by other Fathers, was a Latin inscription to
         the Sabine deity Semo Sancus, SEMONI-DEO-SANCO. There
         was in fact discovered under Gregory XIII. in the island of
         St. Bartholomew, an inscription now in the Vatican bearing
         that dedication. V. Baronius, _Ann. Eccl._ 44; Orelli, Inser.
         Lat. No. 1860. There was at this spot on the island of the
         Tiber a college of _bidentales_ in honor of Semo-Sancus,
         with many inscriptions of the same kind. Orelli, No. 1861.
         (Mommsen, Inscr. Lat. regni Neapol. No. 6770). Comp. Orelli,
         No. 1859. Henzen, No. 6999; Mabillon, _Museum Ital._ I. 1st
         part, p. 84. Orelli, No. 1862, is not to be relied on. (See
         _Corp._ Inscr. Lat. I. No. 542.)

 [15.45] This gross blunder could not have been detected without the
         discovery of the _Philosophumena_, which alone contains
         extracts from the _Apophasis magna_ (VI. i. 19). Tyre was
         celebrated for its courtezans.

 [15.46] Ἐχθρὸς ἄνθρωπος, ἀντικείμενος. See Homil. Pseudo-Clem. hom.
         xvii. passim.

 [15.47] Thus in the Pseudo-Clementine literature, the name of Simon
         the Magician indicates sometimes the apostle Paul, against
         whom the writer had a spite.

 [15.48] It may be observed that in _Acts_, he is not treated as an
         enemy, but only reproached as of low sentiments, and room is
         left for repentance, (viii, 24). Perhaps Simon was living when
         those lines were written, and his relations to Christianity
         had not yet become absolutely hostile.

 {15.49} {Jos., _Ant._, XX, vii., 1.}


                              CHAPTER XVI.

  [16.1] _Acts_ xii. 1, 25. Remark the context.

  [16.2] I Peter v. 13; Papias in Euseb. _Hist. Acc._ iii 39.

  [16.3] Acts xiii. 2.

  [16.4] Gal. i. 15, 16; Acts xvii. 15, 21; xxvi. 17-18; I Cor. i 1;
         Rom. i, 1, 5; xv. 15, etc.

  [16.5] Acts xiii. 5.

  [16.6] The author of Acts, being a partisan of the hierarchy and of
         church-domination, has perhaps inserted this circumstance.
         Paul knew nothing of any such ordination or consecration. He
         received his commission from Christ, and did not consider
         himself any more especially the envoy of the church of Antioch
         than of that of Jerusalem.

  [16.7] _Acts_ xiii. 3; xiv. 25.

  [16.8] In I. Peter v. 13, Babylon means Rome.

  [16.9] Cic. Pro Archia, 10.

 [16.10] Jos., B. J., II. xx. 2; VII. iii 3.

 [16.11] _Acts_ xviii. 24, &c.

 [16.12] See Philo. _De Vita Contempl._ passim.

 [16.13] Pseudo-Hermes. _Asclepius_, fol. 158, v. 159 r. (Florence
         Juntes, 15,12.)

 [16.14] Cic. _Pro Flacco_, 28; Philo. _In Flaccum_, § 7; Leg. ad
         Caium, § 36; _Acts_ ii. 5-11; vi. 9; Corp. Inscr. Gr. No. 5361.

 [16.15] Lex. Wisigoth; lib. xii, tit. ii. and iii in Walter. Corp.
         jur. German. Antiq. L I. p. 630, &c.

 [16.16] See Vie de Jésus, p. 137.

 [16.17] Philo. _In Flacc._, § 5 and 6; Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. viii 1; XIX
         v. 2, B. J. II. xviii. 7, etc.; VII. x. 1. Papyrus printed in
         _Notices et Extraits_ XVIII., 2d part, p. 383, etc.

 [16.18] Dion Cass., XXXVII. 17; LX 6. Philo. _Leg. ad Caium_, § 23.
         Jos. _Ant._ XIV. x. 8; XVII. xi. 1; XVIII. iii. 5; Hor. Sat.
         I. iv. 142-143; v. 100; ix. 69, &c; Pers. 5, 179-184; Suet.
         _Lib._ 36; _Claud._ 25; _Domit._ 12; Juv. iii. 14; vi. 542, &c.

 [16.19] _Pro. Flac._ 28.

 [16.20] Jos. _Ant._ XIV. x.; Suet. Jul. 84.

 [16.21] Suet. _Lib._ 36; Tac. _Ann._ ii. 85; Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. iii.
         4, 5.

 [16.22] Dion Cass. LX. 6.

 {16.23} {Suétone, _Claude_, 25; _Act._, xviii, 2; Dion
         Cassius, LX, 6.}

 [16.24] Jos. B. J., VII. iii. 3.

 [16.25] Seneca, fragment in Aug. _De Civ._ Dei, vi. 11; Rutilius
         Numatianus i. 395, &c.; Jos. Contr. Apion, ii. 39; Juv. Sat.
         vi. 544; xiv: 96, &c.

 [16.26] Philo. _In_ Flacc. § 5; Tac. _Hist._ v. 4, 5, 8; Dion. Cass.
         xlix. 22; Juv. xiv. 103; Diod. Sic. fragm. 1 of lib. xxxiv.
         and iii of lib. xl.; Philostr. _Vit. Apol._ v. 33; I. Thess.
         ii. 15.

 [16.27] Jos. _Ant._ XIV. x.; XVI. vi.; XX. viii 7; Philo. _In Flacc._
         and _Legatio ad Caium._

 [16.28] Jos. _Ant._ XVIII. iii. 4, 3 Juv. vi. 543, &c.

 [16.29] Jos. _Contr. Apion_, passim; passages above cited from Tacitus
         and Diodorus Siculus; Trog. Pomp. (Justin) xxxvi 411; Ptolem.
         Hephestion or Chennus, in Script. Poet. Hist. Græci of
         Westermann, p. 194. Cf. Quintilian, III. vii. 2.

 [16.30] Cic. _Pro Flacco_, 28; Tac. Hist. v. 5; Juv. xiv. 103-104;
         Diodorus Siculus and Philostratus, u. s.; Rutilius Numatianus
         i. 383, &c.

 [16.31] Martial iv. 4; Amm. Marc. xxii. 5.

 [16.32] Suet. _Aug._ 76; Horace Sat. I. ix. 69, &c; Juv. iii. 13-16,
         296; vi. 156-160, 542-547; xiv. 96-107; Martial. Epigr. iv. 4;
         vii. 29, 34, 54; xi. 95; xii. 57; Rutilius Numat. l. c. Jos.
         _Contra Apion_, ii. 13; Philo. _Leg. ad_ Caium. § 26-28.

 [16.33] Martial, Epigr. xii. 57.

 [16.34] Juvenal, Sat. iii. 14; vi. 542.

 [16.35] Juvenal, Sat. iii. 296; vi. 543, &c.; Martial, Epigr. i. 42;
         xii. 57.

 [16.36] Martial, Epigr. i. 42; xii. 57; Statius Silves, I. vi. 73-74,
         and Forcellini on word _sulphuratum_.

 [16.37] Horace, Sat. I. v. 100; Juvenal, Sat. vi. 544, &c., xiv. 96,
         &c; Apul. _Florida_, i. 6.

 [16.38] Dion Cass. lxviii. 32.

 [16.39] Tac. Hist. v. 5, 9; Dion Cass, lxvii 14.

 [16.40] Hor. Sat. I. ix. 70; _Judæus_ Apella, appears to be a joke of
         the same kind (see the scholiasts Acron and Porphyrion upon
         Hor. Sat. I. v. 100); compare the passage from S. Anitus,
         _Poemata_, v. 364, cited by Forcellini on the word Apella,
         but which I do not find either in the editions of this Father
         or in the ancient Latin manuscript, Bibl. Imp. No. 11320, as
         given by the learned lexicographer; Juv. Sat. xiv. 99, &c.;
         Martial Epigr. vii. 29, 34, 54; xi. 95.

 [16.41] Jos. Contr. Apion ii. 39; Tac. _Ann._ ii. 85, Hist. v. 5; Hor.
         Sat. I. iv. 142, 143; Juv. xiv. 96, &c.; Dion Cass, xxxvii.
         17; lxvii 14.

 [16.42] Martial, Epigr. i. 42; xii. 57.

 [16.43] Juv. Sat. vi. 546, &c.

 [16.44] Jos. _Ant._ xviii. iii. 5; xx. 11, 4; B. J. II. xx. 2; Act
         xiii. 50; xvi. 14.

 [16.45] _Loc. cit._

 [16.46] Jos. _Ant._, xx. 11, 5; iv. 1.

 [16.47] Passages already cited. Strabo shows much greater justice and
         penetration (xvi. 11, 34, &c.) Comp. Dion. Cass, xxxvii. 17,
         &c.

 [16.48] Tac. Hist. v. 5.

 [16.49] Jos. Contr. Apion ii. 39.

 [16.50] Martial, xii. 57.

 [16.51] Jos. _Ant._ xiv. x. 6, 11, 14.

 [16.52] Eccl. x. 25, 27.

 [16.53] Rom. i. 24, &c.

 [16.54] Zach. viii. 23.

 [16.55] Hor. Sat. I. ix. 69; Pers. v. 179, &c. Juv. Sat. vi. 159; xiv.
         96, &c.

 [16.56] Contr. Apion ii. 39.

 [16.57] Pers. v. 179-184; Juv. vi. 157-160. The remarkable
         preoccupation about Judaism which may be observed in the Roman
         writers of the first century, especially the satirists, arises
         from this circumstance.

 [16.58] Juv. Sat. iii. 62, &c.

 [16.59] Cic. _De Prov._ consul, 5.

 [16.60] The children whose appearance had most pleased me on my first
         visit, I found four years later, ugly, vulgar, and stupid.

 [16.61] Πατρῷοις θεοῖς a very frequent formula in the inscriptions of
         the Syrians (Corp. Inscr. Græc. Nos. 4449, 4450, 4451, 4463,
         4479, 4480, 6015).

 [16.62] Corp. Inscr. Græc. Nos. 4474, 4475, 5936; _Mission de
         Phenicie_, I. ii c. ii. (in press), inscription of Abeda.
         Comp. Corpus, Nos. 2271, 5853.

 [16.63] Ζεύς οὐράνιος, ἐπουράνιος, ὕψιστος, μέγιστος, θεὸς σατράπης,
         Corpus Inscr. Gr. Nos. 4500, 4501, 4502, 4503, 6012; Lepsius,
         Denkmæler, t. xii fol. 100. No. 590. Mission de Phenicie,
         p. 103, 104.

 [16.64] I have developed this in the _Journal Asiatique_ for February
         1859, p. 259, &c., and in _Mission de Phenicie_, 1. II. c. ii.

 [16.65] Syrian code in Land, _Anecdota Syriaca_, i. p. 152, and
         different facts which I have witnessed.

 [16.66] Born in Haran.

 [16.67] See Forcellini, word _Syrus._ This word designates Orientals
         generally. Leblant, _Inscript._ Chrét. de la Gaule, i. p. 207,
         328, 329.

 [16.68] Juvenal, iii. 62-63.

 [16.69] Such is at this day the temperament of the Syrian Christian.

 [16.70] Inscriptions in _Mem._ de la Soc. des Antiquaires de Fr. t.
         xxviii. 4, &c. Leblant, Inscript. Chrét. de la Gaule, i. p.
         cxliv. 207, 324, &c. 353, &c. ii. 259, 459, &c.

 [16.71] The Maronites colonize still in nearly all the Levant like the
         Jews, Armenians, and Greeks, though on a smaller scale.

 [16.72] Cic. _De Offic._ i. 42; Dion. Hal. ii. 28; ix. 28.

 [16.73] See the characters of slaves in Plautus and Terence.

 [16.74] II. Cor. xii. 9.

 [16.75] Tacit. _Ann._ ii. 85.


                             CHAPTER XVII.

  [17.1] Tacit. _Ann._ i. 2; Florus, iv. 3; Pomponius in the Digest, 1;
         I. Tit. ii., fr. 2.

  [17.2] Helicon. Apelles, Euceres, etc. The Oriental kings were
         considered by the Romans to surpass in tyranny the worst of
         the emperors. Dion. Cassius lix. 24.

  [17.3] See inscription of the Parasite of Antony in the _Comptes
         Rendus de l'Acad. des Inscr. et B. L._, 1864, p. 166, etc.
         Comp. Tacit. _Ann._ iv. 55, 56.

  [17.4] See for example the funeral oration on Turia by her husband,
         Q. Lucretius Vespillo, of which the complete epigraphic text
         was first published by Mommsen in _Memoires de l'Academie de
         Berlin_, 1863, p. 455, &c. Compare funeral oration on Murdia
         (Orelli, Inscr. Lat. No. 4860), and on Matilda by the emperor
         Adrian (_Mem. de l'Acad. de Berlin_, u. s. 483, &c.). We
         are too much preoccupied by passages of the Latin satirists
         in which the vices of women are sharply exposed. It is as
         if we were to design a general tableau of the morals of the
         seventeenth century from Mathurin, Regnier, and Boileau.

  [17.5] Orelli, Nos. 2647, &c., especially 2677, 2742, 4530, 4860;
         Henzen, Nos. 7382, &c., especially No. 7406; Renier, Inscr. de
         l'Algerie, No. 1987. They may have been false epithets, but
         they prove at least the estimation of virtue.

  [17.6] Plin. _Epist._ vii. 19; ix. 13; Appian, Bell. Civ. iv. 36.
         Fannia twice followed to exile her husband, Helvidius Priscus,
         and was banished a third time after his death.

  [17.7] The heroism of Arria is well known.

  [17.8] Suet. _Aug._ 73; Fun. Orat. on Turia, i, line 30.

  [17.9] Ib. 31.

 [17.10] The too severe opinion of Paul (Rom. i. 24, &c.) is explicable
         in the same way. Paul was not acquainted with the higher
         social life of Rome. Besides, these clerical invectives are
         not to be taken literally.

 [17.11] Sen. Ep. xii., xxiv., xxvi., lviii., lxx.; De Ira. iii. 15. De
         Tranq. anim. 10.

 [17.12] Apoc. xvii.; Cf. Sen. Ep. xcv. 16, &c.

 [17.13] Suet. _Aug._ 48.

 [17.14] The inscriptions contain countless examples.

 [17.15] Plut. Græc. Ger. Reipubl. xv. 3-4; An seni sit ger. resp.,
         passim.

 [17.16] Jos. Ant. xiv., x. 22, 23; Comp. Tacit. _Ann._ iv. 55, 56.
         Rutilius Numatianus, _Itin._ i. 63, &c.

 [17.17] "Immensa romanæ pacis majestas." Plin. _Hist. Nat._ xxvii. 1.

 [17.18] Ælius Arist. _Eloge de Rome_, passim; Plut. _Fortune_ des
         _Romains_; Philo. _Leg. ad Caium_, § 21, 22, 39, 40.

 [17.19] Dion. Hal. Antiq. Rom. i., comm.

 [17.20] Plut. Solon. 20.

 [17.21] See Athen. xii. 68; Ælian, _Var._ Hist. ix. 12; Suidas, word
         Ἐπίκουρος.

 [17.22] Tacit. _Ann._ i. 2.

 [17.23] Study the character of Euthyphron in Plato.

 [17.24] Diog. Laert. ii. 101, 116; v. 5, 6, 37, 38; ix. 52; Athen.
         xiii. 92; xv. 52; Ælian, _Var. Hist._ ii. 23; iii. 36; Plut.
         Pericles, 32; De Plac. Philos. I, vii. 2; Diod. Sic. XIII.,
         vi. 7; Aristoph. in Aves, 1073.

 [17.25] Particularly under Vespasian, as in the case of Helvidius
         Priscus.

 [17.26] We shall show later that these persecutions, at least until
         that of Decius, have been much exaggerated.

 [17.27] The early Christians were in fact very respectful towards
         Roman authority. Rom. xiii. i., &c.; I. Peter iv. 14, 16. As
         to St. Luke, see the Introduction to this work.

 [17.28] Diog. Laert. vii. 1, 32, 33; Euseb. Prepar. Evang. xv. 15, and
         in general the _De Legibus_ and _De Officiis_ of Cicero.

 [17.29] Terence, _Heautont._ I. i. 77, Cic. De Finibus Bon. et Mal.,
         v. 23; _Partit. Orat._, 16, 24: Ovid, Fasti, ii. 684; Lucian
         vi. 54, &c.; Sen., Epist. xlviii, xcv. 51, &c.; De Ira, i. 5;
         iii. 43; Arrian. Dissert. Epict. I. ix. 6; ii. v. 26; Plut.
         Roman. 2; Alexander, i. 8, 9.

 [17.30] Virg. Eclog. iv.; Sen. Medea, 375, &c.

 [17.31] Tac. _Ann._ ii. 85; Suet. Tib. 35; Ovid. Fast. ii. 497-514.

 [17.32] he inscriptions for women contain the most touching
         expressions. "Mater omnium hominum, parens omnibus
         subveniens," in Renier, Inscr. de l'Algerie, No. 1987, Comp.
         ibid. No. 2756; Mommsen, Inscr. R. N., No. 1431. "Duobus
         virtutis et castitatis exemplis." _Not. et Mem. de la Soc.
         de Constantine_, 1865, p. 158. See inscription of Urbanilla in
         Guerin, Voy. Archéol. in Tunis, i. 289, and a beautiful one,
         Orelli, No. 4648. Some of these texts are subsequent to the
         first century; but the sentiments they express were not new
         when they were written.

 [17.33] Table-Talk I., v. 1; Demosth. 2; the Dialogue on Love, 2; and
         Consol. ad Uxorem.

 [17.34] "Caritas generis humani." Cic. _De Finibus_, v. 23. "Homo
         sacra res homini," Sen. Epist. xcv. 33.

 [17.35] Sen. Epist. xxxi., xlvii.; De Benef., iii. 18, &c.

 [17.36] Tac. _Ann._ xiv. 42, &c.; Suet. Claud. 25; Dion Cass. lx. 29;
         Plin. Ep. viii. 16; Inscr. Lanuv. col. 2 lines, 1-4 (Mommsen
         _De Coll et Sodal._ Rom., ad calcem); Sen. Rhet. Controv.
         iii. 21; vii. 6; Sen. Phil. Epist. xlvii; De Benef. iii., 18,
         &c, Columella. _De re rustica_, i. 8; Plut, the Elder, 5; _De
         Ira_, 11.

 [17.37] Epist. xlvii., 13.

 [17.38] Cato. _De re rustica_, 58, 59, 104; Plut. Cato, 4, 5. Compare
         the severe maxims of Ecclesiasticus xxxiii. 25, &c.

 [17.39] Tac. Ann. xiv. 60; Dion Cass, xlvii. 10; lx. 16; lxii. 13;
         lxvi. 14. Suet. Caius, 16; Appia, Bell. Civ. iv., from ch.
         xvii. (especially ch. xxxvi. &c), to ch. li. Juv. vi. 476,
         &c., describes the manners of the worst class.

 [17.40] Hor. Sat. i. vi. 1, &c.; Cic. Epist. iii 7; Sen. Rhet.
         _Controv._ i. 6.

 [17.41] Suet. Caius, 15, 16; Claud. 19, 23, 25; Nero, 16; Dion Cass.
         lx. 25-29.

 [17.42] Tac. _Ann._ vi. 17; comp. iv. 6.

 [17.43] Tac. _Ann._ xiii. 50, 51; Suet. Nero, 10.

 [17.44] Epitaph of the jeweller, Evhodus (hominis boni, misericordis,
         amatis pauperis). _Corp. Inscr. Lat._ No. 1027, and
         inscription of the age of Augustus (Cf. Egger, _Mem.
         d'Histoire et de Phil._, p. 351, &c); Perrot, _Exploration de
         la Galatie_, &c., p. 118, 119, πτωχοὺς φιλέοντα; Funeral
         Oration of Matilda by Adrian (_Mem. de l'Acad. de Berlin_
         for 1863, p. 489); Mommsen. Inscr. Regni Neap. Nos. 1431, 2868,
         4880; Seneca Rhet., _Controv._ I. i.; iii 19; iv. 27, viii. 6;
         Sen. Phil. _De Elem._ ii. 5, 6. De Benef. i l; ii. ll; iv. 14;
         vii. 31. Compare Leblant Inscr. Chret. de la Gaule, ii. p. 23,
         &c; Orelli, No. 4657, Fea _Framm de Frasti Consol._, p. 90;
         R. Garrucci, _Cimitera degli ant. Ebrei_, p. 44.

 [17.45] Corp. Inscr. Græc, No. 2758.

 [17.46] Ibid. Nos. 2194 b. 2511, 2759 b.

 [17.47] It must be borne in mind that Corinth in the Roman epoch was a
         colony of foreigners, formed upon the site of the ancient city
         by Cæsar and Augustus.

 [17.48] Lucian, Demonax, 37.

 [17.49] Dion Cassius, lxvi. 15.

 [17.50] See Ælius Aristides, Treatise against Comedy, 751, &c., ed.
         Dindorf.

 [17.51] It is worthy of note that in several cities of Asia Minor the
         remains of the ancient theatres are at this day haunts of
         debauchery. Comp. Ov. Amor. i. 89, &c.

 [17.52] Orelli-Henzen Nos. 1172, 3362, &c., 6669; Guerin, Voy. en
         Tunisie, 11, p. 59; Borghesi, _Œuvres Completes_, iv. p. 269,
         &c.; E. Desjardins. _De tabulis alimentariis_ (Paris 1854);
         Aurelius Victor. Epitome, Nerva; Plin. Epist. i. 8; vii. 18.

 [17.53] Inscriptions in Desjardins, op. cit. pars ii. cap. 1.

 [17.54] Suet. _Aug._ 41, 46; Dion Cass. li. 21; lviii. 2.

 [17.55] Tac. _Ann._ ii. 87; vi. 13; xv. Suet. Aug. 41, 42; Claud. 18.
         Comp. Dion Cass. lxii. 18; Orelli, No. 3358 &c.; Henzen, 6662,
         &c.; Forcellini, article _Tessera frumentaria_.

 [17.56] Odyss. vi. 207.

 [17.57] Eurip. _Suppl._ v. 773, &c.; Aristotle Rhetor. II. v. iii.
         and Nicomachus viii. 1; IX. x. See Stobeus Florilegus xxxvii.
         cxiii. and in general the fragments of Menander, and the Greek
         comedians.

 [17.58] Aristotle Polit. VI. iii. 4. 5.

 [17.59] Cic. Tusc. iv. 7-8; Sen. De Clem. ii. 5. 6.

 [17.60] Papyrus at the Louvre, No. 37, col. 1. line 21. Notices et
         Extraits xviii. 2d part, p. 298.

 [17.61] V. ante.

 [17.62] Apoc. xvii. &c.

 [17.63] Virg. Ec. iv. Georg. i. 463, &c.; Horace Od. I. ii; Tac.
         _Ann._ vi. 12; Suet. Aug. 31.

 [17.64] See for example De Republ. iii. 22, cited and preserved by
         Lactantius Instit. div. vi. 8.

 [17.65] See the admirable letter, xxxi. to Lucilius.

 [17.66] Suet. Vesp. 18; Dion Cass. t. vi. p. 558 (edit. Sturz); Euseb.
         Chron. A.D. 89. Plin. Epist. i. 8; Henzen, Suppl. to Orelli,
         p. 124, No. 1172.

 [17.67] Funeral Oration of Turia, i. lines 30-31.

 [17.68] See first book of Valerius Maximus; Julius Obsequens on
         Prodigies; and _Discours Sacrés_ of Ælius Aristides.

 [17.69] Augustus (Suet. Aug. 90-92) and even Cæsar, it is said, (but I
         doubt,) (Plin. Hist. Nat. xxviii. iv. 7) did not escape it.

 [17.70] Manilius, Hygin. translations from Aratus.

 [17.71] Cic. Pro Archia, 10.

 [17.72] Suet. Claud. 25.

 [17.73] Jos. _Ant._ XIX. v. 3.

 [17.74] _Bereschith rabba_ ch. lxv. fol. 65b; Du Cange, word
         _matricularius_.

 [17.75] Cic. _De Legibus_, ii. 8; Vopiscus. Aurelian, 19.

 [17.76] Religio sine superstitione, Orat. fun. Turia i. lines 30-31.
         See Plu. de Superstit.

 [17.77] See Melito, Περὶ ἀληθείας, in _Spicilegium Syriacum_ of Cureto,
         p. 43, or _Spicil. Solesmense_ of dom Pitra, t. ii. p. xli.,
         to get a good idea of the impression made by it upon the Jews
         and Christians.

 [17.78] Suet. Aug. 52; Dion Cass. li. 20; Tac. _Ann._ i. 10; Aurel.
         Victor. Ceas, i. Appian. Bell. Civ. v. 132; Jos. B. J., I.
         xxi. 2, 3, 4, 7. Noris, _Cenotaphia Pisana_, dissert. i. cap.
         4; _Kalendarium Cumanum_, in Corpus Inscr. Lat. i. p. 310;
         Eckhel. Doctrina Num. Vet. pars 2d. vol. vi. p. 100, 124, &c.

 [17.79] Tac. _Ann._ iv. 55-56. Comp. Valer. Maxim. prol.

 [17.80] Ante, p. 193, &c.

 [17.81] Corinth, the only Grecian town which was considerably
         Christianized during the first century, was no longer at this
         period a Hellenic city.

 [17.82] Heracl. Corn. Comp. Cic. De Nat. Deorum, iii. 23, 25, 60, 62,
         64.

 [17.83] Plut. Consol. ad ux. 10; _De sera numinis vindicta_, 22;
         Heuzey. _Mission de Macedoine_, p. 128. _Revue Archéologique_,
         April, 1864, p. 282.

 [17.84] Lucret., i. 63, &c.; Sallust. Catil. 52; Cic. De Nat. Deorum.
         ii. 24, 28. _De Divinat._ ii. 33, 35, 57; _De Haruspicorum
         Responsis_, passim; Tuscul. i. 16; Juvenal, Sat. ii. 149, 152;
         Sen. Epist. xxiv. 17.

 [17.85] Sua cuique civitati religio est, nostra nobis. Cic. Pro
         Flacco, 28.

 [17.86] Cic. _De Nat. Deorum_, i. 30, 42; De Divinat. ii. 12, 33,
         35, 72. _De_ Harusp. Resp. 6, etc.; Liv. i. 19, Quint. Curt.
         iv. 10. Plut. _De plac. phil._ I. vii. 2; Diod. Sic. I. ii.
         2. Varro. in Aug. _De civit. Dei_ ,iv. 31, 32; vi. 6. Dion.
         Halic. ii. 20. viii. 5. Valer. Maxim. I. ii.

 [17.87] Cic. De Divinat. ii. 15; Juvenal, ii. 149, &c.

 [17.88] Tac. _Ann._ xi. 15. Plin. Epist. x. 97. _sub. fin._ Serapin in
         Plut. _De Pythiæ Oraculis_. Comp. _De EI apud Delphos_, init.
         See also Valer. Maxim I., _passim_.

 [17.89] Juv. Sat. vi. 489, 527, &c. Tac. _Ann._ xi. 15. Comp. Lucian
         _Conv. Deorum_; Tertull. _Apolog._ 6.

 [17.90] Jos. _Ant._ xviii. iii. 4; Tac. _Ann._ ii. 85; Le Bas,
         _Inscr._ part v. No. 395.

 [17.91] Plut. De Pyth. orac. 25.

 [17.92] See Lucian, _Alexander seu pseudomantis_ and _De morte
         Peregrini_.

 [17.93] Sen. Epist. xii. xxiv. lxv. Inscr. Lanuv. 2d col. lines 5-6;
         Orelli, 4404.

 [17.94] Dion Cass. lxvi. 13; lxvii. 13; Suet. Domit. 10. Tac.
         _Agricola._ 2.45; Plin. _Epist._ III. ii.; Philostr. Vit.
         Apollon. I. vii. passim. Euseb. _Chron._ A.D. 90.

 [17.95] Dion Cass. lxii. 29.

 [17.96] Arrian, Dissert. de Epictet. I. ii. 21.

 [17.97] Ibid. I. xxv. 22.


                             CHAPTER XVIII.

  [18.1] Val. Max., I. iii; Liv. XXXIX. 8-18; Cic., _De Legibus_,
         II. 8; Dion Halic., II. 20; Dion Cass., XL. 47; XLII. 26;
         Tertull., _Apol._ 6; _Adv. nationes_, I. 10.

  [18.2] Propert., IV. i. 17; Lucian, VIII. 831; Dion Cass., XLVII. 15;
         Arnob ii. 73.

  [18.3] Val. Maxim. I. iii. 3.

  [18.4] Dion Cass. XLVII. 15.

  [18.5] Jos., XLV. x. Comp. Cic., _Pro Flacco_, 28.

  [18.6] Suet., _Aug._, 31, 93; Dion Cass., lii. 36.

  [18.7] Suet., _Aug._, 93.

  [18.8] Dion Cass., LVI. 6.

  [18.9] Jos. _Ant._ XVI. vi.

 [18.10] Ibid. XVI. vi. 2.

 [18.11] Dion Cass., LII. 36.

 [18.12] Jos., B. J., V. xiii. 6. Comp. Suet.], Aug., 93.

 [18.13] Suet., Tib., 36; Tac., Ann., ii., 85; Jos., Ant. XVII., iii.,
         4, 5; Philo., In Flaccum, § 4; Leg. ad Caium, § 24; Sen.
         Epist. cviii. 22. The assertion of Tertullian (Apol. 5),
         repeated by other ecclesiastical writers, that Tiberius had
         formed the intention of placing Jesus Christ on the list of
         gods, is not worth discussion.

 [18.14] Dion Cass., lx. 6.

 [18.15] Tacit. Ann., xi. 15.

 [18.16] Dion Cass., lx. 6; Suet., Claud. 25; Acts xviii. 2.

 [18.17] Dion Cass., lx. 6.

 [18.18] Jos. Ant., XIX. v. 2; XX. vi. 3; B. J. II. xii. 7.

 [18.19] Suet. Nero 56.

 [18.20] Tac. Ann. xv. 44; Suet. Nero. 16. This will be developed
         hereafter.

 [18.21] Tac. Ann. xiii. 32.

 [18.22] Comp. Dion Cass. Domit. sub fin; Suet. Domit. 15. This
         distinction is formally made in the digest, I. xlvii., tit.
         xxii., de Coll. et Corp. i. 3.

 [18.23] Cic. Pro Flacco, 28.

 [18.24] This distinction is indicated in the _Acts_ xvi. 20, 21; Cf.
         xviii. 13.

 [18.25] Cic. Pro Flacco, 28; Juv. xiv. 100 &c.; Tac. Hist, v., 4, 5;
         Plin. Epist. x., 97; Dion Cass. L. ii. 36.

 [18.26] Jos. B. J. VII. v. 2.

 [18.27] Ælius Arist. Pro Serapide, 53. Jul. Orat. iv., p. 136, of
         Spanheim's Ed., and the sculptures copied by Leblant in the
         Bull. de la Soc. des Ant. de Fr., 1859, p. 191-193.

 [18.28] Tac. Ann. ii. 85; Suet. Tib. 37; Jos. Ant. XVIII. iii. 4-5;
         letter of Adrian in Vopisc. Vit. Saturn, 8.

 [18.29] Dion Cass. xxxvii. 17.

 [18.30] See the inscriptions collected in the Rev. Archéol. Nov. 1864,
         391, &c.; Dec., 1864, p. 460, &c.; June, 1865, p. 451-452,
         and p. 497, &c.; Sept., 1865, p. 214, &c.; Apr., 1866; Ross.
         Inscr. Græc. ined. fasc., ii., No. 282, 291, 292; Hamilton,
         Researches in Asia Minor, Vol. ii., No. 301. Corp. Inscr.
         Græc. Nos. 120, 126, 2525 b. 2562; Rhangabe Antiq. Hellen. No.
         811. Henzen, No. 6082; Virg. Ecl. v., 30. Comp. Harpocration
         Lex. art ἐρανιστής. Festus art. Thiastas; Digest XLVII., xxii.,
         de Coll. et Corp. 4; Plin. Epist. x., 93, 94.

 [18.31] Aristot. Mor. Nicom. VIII., ix., 5. Plut. Quest. Græc. 44.

 [18.32] Wescher, Archives des missions scientif. 2d series, v., i., p.
         432, and Rev. Arch., Sept., 1865, p. 221, 222. Cf. Aristot.
         Œconom. ii. 3. Strab. ix., i., 15. Corp. inscr. gr., No.
         2271, lines 13-14.

 [18.33] Κληρωτοί.

 [18.34] Κλῆρος. The ecclesiastical etymology of κλῆρος is different,
         and implies an allusion to the position of the tribe of Levi
         in Israel. But it is not impossible that the word was
         primarily derived from the Greek confraternities (cf. Act i.
         25, 26; I. Petri, v. 3. Clem. Alex. in Euseb. H. E. iii. 23).
         M. Wescher finds among the dignitaries of these societies an
         ἐπίσκοπος (Revue Arch., April, 1866). See ante, p. 86. The
         assembly was also called σῦναγωγή (Revue Arch., Sept., 1865,
         p. 216; Pollux IV. viii., 143).

 [18.35] Corp. inscr. Gr. No. 126. Comp. Rev. Arch. Sept. 1865, p. 216.

 [18.36] Wescher in Revue Archeol. Dec. 1864, p. 460, &c.

 [18.37] See ante, p. 338, note 2.

 [18.38] The Greek confraternities were not entirely exempt. Inscr. in
         Revue Archeol., Dec. 1864, p. 462, &c.

 [18.39] Digest XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et Corp. 4.

 [18.40] Liv. XXIX. 10, &c. Orell. and Heuzen, Inscr. Lat. c. v. § 21.

 [18.41] Dion. Cass. lii. 36; lx. 6.

 [18.42] Liv. XXXIX. 8-18. Comp. decree in Corp. Inscr. Lat. I. p.
         43-44. Cf. Cic. De Legibus ii. 8.

 [18.43] Cic. Pro Sext. 25; In Pis. 4; Asconius, in Cornelianam 75
         (edit. Orelli); In Pison. p. 7-8; Dion. Cass. XXXVIII. 13, 14;
         Digest. III. iv. Quod cujusc. 1; XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et.
         Corp. passim.

 [18.44] Suet. Domit. 1; Dion. Cass. XLVII. 15; LX. 6, LXVI. 24;
         passages of Tertullian and Arnobius before cited.

 [18.45] Suet. Cass. 42; Aug. 32; Jos. Ant. XVI. x. 8; Dion. Cass. LII.
         36.

 [18.46] "Kaput ex. S. C. P. K. Quibus coire, convenire, collegiumque
         habere liceat. Qui stipem menstruam conferre volent in funera,
         ii. in collegium cocant, neque sub specie ejus colleginisi
         semel in mense vocant conferendi causa unde defuncti
         sepeliantur." Inscr. Lanuv. 1st col. lines 10-13 in Mommsen,
         De collegiis et sodalitiis Romanorum (Kiliæ, 1843), p. 81-82
         and ad calcem. Cf. Digest. XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et. Corp. 1;
         Tertull. Apol. 39.

 [18.47] Inscr. Lanuv. 2d col. lines 3, 7; Digest. XLVII. xxii. de
         Coll. et Corp. 3.

 [18.48] Digest. XLVII. xi. de Extr. crim. 2.

 [18.49] Ibid. XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et. Corp. 1 and 3.

 [18.50] Heuzey, Mission de Macedoine, p. 71, &c.; Orelli, Inscr. No.
         4093.

 [18.51] Orelli, 2409; Melchior et P. Visconti, Silloge d'iscrizioni
         antiche, p. 6.

 [18.52] See article relative to colleges of Esculapius and Hygiens,
         of Jupiter Corninus, and of Dian and Antinous, in Mommsen,
         op. cit. p. 93, &c. Comp. Orelli, Inscr. Lat. Nos. 1710, &c.,
         2394, 2395, 2413, 4075, 4079, 4107, 4207, 4938, 5044; Mommsen,
         op. cit. p. 96, 113, 114; de Rossi, Bulletin di Archeol.
         Cristiana, 2d year, No. 8.

 [18.53] Inscr. Lanuv., 1st col., lines 6-7; Orelli. 2270; de Rossi,
         Bullett. di archeol. crist. 2d year, No. 8.

 [18.54] Inscr. Lanuv., 2d col., lines 11-13; Orelli, 4420.

 [18.55] Inscr. Lanuv., 1st col. lines 3, 9, 21; 2d col. lines 7-17;
         Mommsen, Inscr. regni Neap. 2559; Marini. Atti. p. 598;
         Muratori, 491, 7; Mommsen. De coll. et sod. p. 109, &c. 113,
         Comy. I. Cor. xi, 20, &c. The president of the Christian
         Churches was called by the pagans θιασάρχης. Lucien,
         Peregrinus, II.

 [18.56] Inscr. Lanuv. 2d col. line 7.

 [18.57] Inscr. Lanuv. 2d col. lines 24-25.

 [18.58] Ibid. 2d col. lines 26-29. Cf. Corpus Inscr. Gr. No. 126.

 [18.59] Orelli, Inscr. Lat Nos. 2399, 2400, 2405, 4093, 4103. Mommsen,
         De Coll. et Sod; Rom. p. 97; Heuzey u. s. Compare at this day
         the little cemeteries of the societies at Rome.

 [18.60] Hor. Sat. I. viii. 8.

 [18.61] _Funeraticium._

 [18.62] Inscr. Lanuv. 1st col, lines 24, 25, 32.

 [18.63] Ib. 2d col. lines 3, 5.

 [18.64] Cic. De Offic. 1, 17. Schol. Bibb. ad Cic. Pro Archia, x. 1.
         Comp. Plut. De frat. amore, 7; Digest XLVII. xxii. de Coll.
         et Corp. 4. In a Roman inscription the founder of a sepulchre
         provides that only those of his own faith shall be buried
         there, _ad religionem pertinentes meam_ (de Rossi, Bull. di
         Archeol. Crist. 53d year No. 7, p. 64.)

 [18.65] Tertull. Ad Scap. 3; de Rossi, op. cit. 3d year, No. 12.

 [18.66] St. Justin, Apol. 1, 67; Tertull. Apollog. 39.

 [18.67] Ulpi. Fragm. xxii. 6. Digest III. iv. Quod cujusc. 1; XLVI. 1,
         de Fid. et Mand. 22, XLVII. ii. de Furtis, 31; XLVII. xxii. de
         Coll. et Corp. 1, 3; Gruter. 322, 3, 4; 424, 12; Orelli, 4080;
         Marini, Atti. p. 95. Muratori, 516, 1; Mem. de la Soc. des
         Antiq. de Fr. XX. p. 78.

 [18.68] Dig. XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et Corp. passim; Inscr. Lanuv. 1st
         col. lines 10-13; Marini, Atti. p. 552; Muratori, 520, 3;
         Orelli 4075, 4115, 1567, 2797, 3140, 3913; Heuzen 6633, 6745;
         Mommsen op. cit. p. 80, etc.

 [18.69] Digest XLVII. xi. de Extr. crim. 2.

 [18.70] Ibid. XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et Corp. 2; XLVIII. iv. ad Leg.
         Jul. majest. 1.

 [18.71] Dion Cass. LX. 6. Comp. Suet. Nero 16.

 [18.72] See administrative correspondence of Pliny and Trajan. Plin.
         Epist. X. 43, 93, 94, 97, 98.

 [18.73] "Permittitur tenuioribus stipem menstruam conferre, dum tamen
         semel in mense coeant, ne sub prætextu hujusmodi illicitum
         collegium coeant (Dig. XLVII. xxii. _de Coll. et Corp._ 1)."
         "Servos quoque licet in collegio tenuiorum recipi volentibus
         dominis (_ibid._ 3)." Cf. Plin. Epist. X. 94; Tertull. Apol.
         39.

 [18.74] Digest I. xii. de Off. præf. urbi, 1. § 14 (Cf. Mommsen op.
         cit. p. 127); III. iv. Quod cujusc. 1; XLVII. xx. de Coll.
         et Corp. 3. The excellent Marcus Aurelius extended as far as
         possible the right of association. Dig. XXXIV. v. de Rebus
         dubiis, 20; XL. iii. de Manumissionibus, 1; XLVII. xxii. de
         Coll. et Corp. 1.


                              CHAPTER XIX.

  [19.1] See de Rossi, Bull. di Arch. Crist. 3d year, Nos. 3, 5, 6,
         12, Eg. Pomponia Græcina (Tac. Ann. xiii. 32) under Nero as
         already characteristic; but it is not certain that she was a
         Christian.

  [19.2] See de Rossi, _Roma Sotteranea_ I. p. 309; and pl. xxi. No. 12
         and the epigraphic collations of Leon Renier, Comptes Rend. de
         l'Acad. des Inscr. et B. L. 1865, p. 289, etc., and of Creuly,
         Rev. Arch. Jan. 1866, p. 63-64. Comp. de Rossi, Bull. 3d year,
         No. 10, p. 77-79.

  [19.3] I. Cor. i. 26, etc.; Jac. ii. 5, etc.

  [19.4] Αἶρε τοὺς ἀθέους. See relation of martyrdom of Polycarp. § 3,
         9, 12. Ruinart. Acta sincera, p. 31, etc.

  [19.5] Ebionim. See Vie de Jésus. Jac. ii. 5, etc. Comp. πτωχοὶ τῷ
         πνεύματι, Matth. v. 3.

  [19.6] See _ante_.

  [19.7] Tac. Ann. XV. 44, Plin. Epist. X. 97; Suet. Nero 16; Domit.
         15; Philopatris, passim. Rutil. Numat. 1, 389, etc.; 440, etc.

  [19.8] John xv. 17, etc.; xvi. 8, etc., 33; xvii. 15, etc.

  [19.9] James i. 27.

 [19.10] I allude to the essential and primitive tendencies of
         Christianity, not to the transformed Christianity now
         preached, especially that of the Jesuits.

 [19.11] See history of the origin of Babism by M. de Gobineau, _Les
         Relig. et les Philos. dans l'Asie Centrale_ (Paris, 1865), p.
         141, etc.; and by Mirza Kazem-beg in the _Journal Asiatique_
         (in press). I myself have received information from two
         individuals at Constantinople, who were personally mixed in
         the affairs of Babism, which confirms the narration of these
         two _savants_.

 [19.12] M. de Gobineau, p. 301, etc.

 [19.13] Another detail which I have from original sources is as
         follows: Several of the sectaries, to compel them to retract,
         were tied to the mouths of cannon, with a lighted slow-match
         attached. The offer was made to them to cut off the match if
         they would renounce Bab. In reply, they only stretched out
         their hands towards the creeping spark, and besought it to
         hasten and consummate their happiness.




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Transcriber's Note

Errors in the text that were obviously those of the printer have been
corrected as noted below. A number of suspects, that have been allowed
to stand, are also noted. Punctuation is sometimes missing, especially
when followed by an endnote reference, and has been added or corrected
without further notice here. Inconsistencies of punctuation in the
endnotes have also been corrected.

On p. 25, the division of Acts into two books is mistranslated as
comprising twelve and seven (_sept_) chapters respectively. There are
sixteen (_seize_) chapters devoted to Paul's travels in II Acts.

A quotation from an earlier work of the author, beginning on p. 46,
with "I protest once for all...", ends on the following page with
the end of the paragraph ending with "in opposing war to war." However,
the closing quotation mark is missing. It has been added here, after
confirming the extent of the quote in the cited source.

On pp. 222 and 226, the seraglio of "Abennérig" (in the French original)
is referred to variously as "Aberverig" and "Abenverig". Neither are
correct but are retained.

This original French text used copious footnotes, which were gathered
by the translator into a "Notes" section at the end of the text, and
numbered sequentially within each chapter. In doing so, numerous errors
were introduced, leaving many references pointed to the wrong or missing
notes. These errors, to the best of our knowledge, have been corrected,
based on a contemporary French edition. Where necessary, the references
have been re-numbered, sequentially.

The chapter number is included in the note number, e.g. [1.10]. Thus,
[I.54] is the 54th note to the Introduction.

Where the anchor has been restored or corrected, curly braces were
used, as {1.6}. Any text supplied for the three missing notes
themselves is also delimited by braces.

The reference to note 4.25 is missing, though it appears in the Notes.
On p. 97, the following sentence was incompletely translated:

  "The Jews of Egypt and Hellenists of Palestine, indeed, practised a
   more tolerant system, and habitually perused the Greek translations
   of the Bible."

The complete sentence from the original should have been:

  "The Jews of Egypt and Hellenists of Palestine, indeed, practised a
  more tolerant system; {they employed Greek in prayer}{4.25}, and
  habitually perused the Greek translations of the Bible."

Rather than omit the reference to 4.25 along with the missing phrase,
it has been placed at the end of the sentence as printed.

The following references were simply misprinted, and have been
corrected: 10.6 -> 10.9 ; 12.83 -> 12.33; 15.6 -> 15.9.

In the Notes section, note 7.13 was misprinted as "31" and has been
corrected.

Reference 5.65 was used twice, resulting in the remaining 36 notes of
Chapter V being mis-referenced by one. The numbering for Chapter V has
been corrected.

On the other hand, the text of notes 1.6, 11.22, 15.49 and 16.23 were
missing altogether. These have been restored from the French edition,
and the notes renumbered accordingly. Curly brackets indicate these
additions and corrections, either for the references or for the notes
themselves.

The text of note 1.48 appeared redundantly in the text itself, an
obvious error, and has been removed.

Note 4.40 refers to Michael Hohl's "Bruchstücke aus dem Leben und den
Schriften Edward Irving's". The printer interposed a semi-colon before
Irving's name, fooled, no doubt, by the change to normal font for the
English name in the German citation. This semi-colon has been removed.
The word "Bruhstucke" was also corrected.

Note 11.79 of Chapter XI includes a reference to Wustenfeld's
"_Zeitschrift für vergleichende Erdkunde_" as "_Zeitschrift für
vergleschende Erakunde". This was corrected. Also in this note, there
is a reference to "Wilson, _The Lands of the Bible_, II., 345, 355-52."
The final page reference is obviously incorrect, and, based on Wilson's
text, perhaps "355-57" was meant. This corresponds to a description of
Damascus.

Other issues and their resolutions are as follows. Pagination indicates
the location in the original text.

  p.  12 I do not [attend] to repeat                       _sic._

  p.  25 and the other containing the seven[teen]          _sic._
            remaining chapters

  p.  38 Show me[ ]a specimen                              Added.

  p.  45 if I[ ]were no longer able                        Added.

  p.  47 opposing war to war.["]                           Added.

  p.  50 excommu[n]icates                                  Added.

  p.  53 les[s]ened                                        Added.

  p.  62 3[6/1]                                            Corrected.

  p.  72 that they would [need] him there                  "meet"?

  p.  92 expens[vi/iv]e                                    Transposed.

  p.  94 It was the Divine breath[[6]]                     Added.


  p.  95 with [garbes] of flame                            _sic._


  p. 115 and[ ]in                                          Added.

  p. 134 vi[is/si]ted                                      Transposed.

  p. 143 Palestineans                                      _cf._ p. 239.
                                                             Palestinians.

  p. 203 near the Pantheon[?/.]                            Corrected.

  p. 204 Ghisra                                            _cf._ p. 198.
                                                             Ghisira

  p. 222 Abermerig                                         _sic._

  p. 225 Abenverig                                         _sic._

  p. 291 as widely as a[t] present.                        Added.

  p. 298 Ignatius Loyola[./?]                              Corrected.

  p. 307 Théologie Chretienne[ ]au siècle Apostolique      Added.

         (Paris, Lévy, 1864), p. 223, &c.[)];              Removed.

  p. 323 [Prononciatian] Grecque                           _sic._

  p. 325 [8.20] Compare _Acts_ xxiv. 27;
             [xvv/xxv]. 9.                                 Corrected.

  p. 333 ὅσα ἐποίει μετ' αὐτῶν οὖ[τ]σα                     Removed.

  p. 337 II. Cor. xii. 1[-]5.                              Added.

         _Contre Julien_ ii. p. 39, [(]Spanheim ed.)       Added.

  p. 340 the two movements of Jud[u/a]s and Theudas        Corrected.