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 Cornell University Library 
 
 BS2505 .R99 1898 
 
 Roman legends about the apostles Paul an 
 
 1924 029 332 511 
 
■3S 
 
 ^ "":.;n ti 
 
 /*/'/ 
 
Roman Legends about the Apostles 
 Paul and Peter. 
 
 VIKTOR RYDBERG, 
 
 Professor of /Esthetics and History of Arts in Stockholm. 
 
 UcansIateJ) from tbc Swc&fsb 
 
 BY 
 
 OTTILIA VON DiJBEN. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.G. 
 
 1898. 
 

INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ABRAHAM VIKTOR RYDBERG, poet, 
 historian, and religious philosopher, was 
 born at Jonkoping on December i8, 1828. He 
 was first educated at the school of Jonkoping, and 
 afterwards at the gymnasium of Wexio. In 1848 
 he became a student in the University of Lund, 
 where he graduated as M.A. A manuscript, a 
 fragment of a novel, happened to fall into the 
 hands of the editor of Goteborg's Handels-ach 
 Sjofartsiidnifig, who then engaged Rydberg to 
 write for his paper, and he filled this post for many 
 years. His contributions comprised a great number 
 of different subjects : political articles, reviews, 
 essays on literary, historical, religious and philoso- 
 phical topics, accounts of travels, etc. In 1859 
 appeared his most famous novel, ' The Last of the 
 Athenians,' an interesting and beautiful picture of 
 the last days of Antiquity and the struggling 
 Christian sects (translated into English, and pub- 
 
vi Jntrobuction 
 
 lished in America). Then Rydberg devoted 
 himself to religious historical speculations. 
 
 At the end of 1873 he made a journey to Paris 
 and Italy, which inspired him to write a series of 
 beautiful sketches, among them Roman Legends 
 about the Apostles Paul and Peter, 1874. He 
 now began to write poetry, and soon took his place 
 among the chief poets of Sweden. He has also 
 distinguished himself as translator by an excellent 
 Swedish version of Goethe's 'Faustus.' After 
 twenty-one years he gave up his newspaper work 
 in order to lecture on Philosophy and History of 
 Culture in Goteborg. 
 
 In 1878 he was elected a member of the 
 Swedish Academy. In 1884 he was offered the 
 Professorship of History of Culture at the Univer- 
 sity of Stockholm, but he exchanged this ofiSce 
 in 1889 for the Professorship of Esthetics and 
 History of Arts. His ' Germanic Mythology,' a 
 great scientific work on which he has spent years 
 of labour and erudition, has been translated into 
 English and published in London. 
 
 Professor Rydberg is a member of many 
 Academies and learned Societies. 
 
 O. V. D. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE pilgrims of Antiquity went to Rome to 
 see the places which were dear to them 
 through the Legends of the Church. Those 
 pilgrims still exist, and often meet us in the Eternal 
 City ; but unless some excellent artist has made 
 them the subject of his picture, we now pass them 
 with indifference, being attracted far more by the 
 purely historical remembrances of Rome, its fine 
 treasures of Antiquity or of the Renaissance, the 
 motley life of its people and the magnificent 
 environs. Nevertheless, some Legends are still 
 readable, and especially those which concern the 
 life and death of the great Apostles. I met with 
 these Legends without seeking for them, and now 
 venture to offer them to the public. 
 
 To render them in the form in which they now 
 appear, we must give up every wish to put them in 
 the noble and modest shape which belongs to the 
 imaginary creations of the people. With no reason 
 
viii iprefacc 
 
 they profess to be reality concealed in a historical 
 shape. To the crowd they appear as Art has 
 understood them, and that Art is mainly the 
 Raphaelite, which is not noted for simple truthful- 
 ness. In my own description I have not escaped 
 its influence, especially in the ' Ascension of Simon 
 Magus.' 
 
 V. R. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. PAUL IN NAPLES I 
 
 II. PAUL IN ROME 17 
 
 III. THE ASCENSION OF SIMON MAGUS - 31 
 
 IV. PRISCA AND PUDENTIANA 47 
 V. NERO AND HIS MISTRESS 57 
 
 VI. 'LORD, WHERE ART THOU GOING?' 71 
 
 VII. THE DEATH OF THE APOSTLES 83 
 
I. 
 
 PAUL IN NAPLES. 
 
PAUL IN NAPLES. 
 
 ONE fine day in the year 6i a.d., an Alexan- 
 drian ship called the Dioscuri, and adorned 
 with the images of Castor and Pollux, was seen 
 anchoring in the harbour of the town of Puteoli, a 
 few hours from Naples. 
 
 On board was a detachment of Roman soldiers 
 with some prisoners of state. The soldiers, born 
 in Italy, were delighted at seeing their native 
 country again, having had a long and troublesome 
 service in the far-off Judea, the inhabitants of 
 which had always shown them a gloomy face, and 
 where many signs foreboded an insurrection. They 
 had polished their armour in honour of the day, 
 and put on their crests — a sign of their belonging 
 to a life-guard, the cohort of Augustus, equal to the 
 Pratorian cohort of Rome. 
 
 The prisoners had less cause for gladness at 
 seeing the coast of Italy. They were to be con- 
 veyed to the capital and summoned before the 
 
4 3Legenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 tribunal of the Emperor. But that Emperor was 
 Nero, and the sentences of the tribunal too often 
 testified to the cruel caprices of the autocrat. 
 
 Among the prisoners was one for whom both the 
 crew and the soldiers had a great respect — a short 
 man, thin and a little bent, bald, and aged before 
 the time, with arched, meeting eyebrows, a rich 
 beard, a beautifully shaped face, and intelligent 
 eyes. He was a Jew, born in Tarsus, of a respect- 
 able family which possessed the Roman citizenship, 
 which then was a sort of nobility. The Scribes of 
 Jerusalem had charged him with offence against 
 their law and temple, and against the Roman Em- 
 peror himself ; and the accused had, on account of 
 his citizenship, appealed to the tribunal of Caesar. 
 For that reason he was now on the way to Roine. 
 The prisoner's name was Paul. 
 
 The harbour of Puteoli was full of ships from all 
 the countries of the Mediterranean, and its streets 
 were crowded with strangers — Greeks, Syrians, 
 Egyptians, Africans, and Spaniards. The sur- 
 rounding heights abounded with splendid castles 
 and country-houses belonging to Roman senators 
 and knights. Nero himself liked to live in this 
 luxuriance of Nature, as Lucullus and Cicero had 
 done before him. 
 
 Among the numerous Jews and Greeks of 
 Puteoli, there were a few who had been baptized 
 and who often met for mutual edification. If 
 
Paul in maples 5 
 
 they had known whom the Dioscuri was carrying, 
 they would have hastened to meet Paul, for his 
 name and acts were well known among them, and 
 copies of his Epistle to the Romans had reached 
 the Christians of Puteoli too, and were being 
 studied with eagerness and industry. 
 
 They were now ready to go ashore. The 
 captain of the soldiers was called Julius. It is 
 said of him in the Acts of the Apostles that he 
 displayed a kindly spirit in his behaviour to Paul. 
 He called the Apostle to him, and said : 
 
 ' Before going on to Rome we are to spend 
 seven days in Puteoli : make what use you like of 
 the time. You may go where you like, accompanied 
 by a soldier. You may visit Naples if you like. 
 Thank you for your good counsels in the dangers 
 of death on the sea. May the Gods protect you !' 
 
 Paul sought his brethren, and the same evening 
 they were sitting happily together. The principal 
 of the Puteolian congregation sent word to the 
 Christians of Rome, and said : ' Paul, the preacher 
 and servant of our Saviour, is here, and will be in 
 Rome in seven days ; come and meet him.' 
 
 The legends begin here. If they do not stand 
 the serious criticism of the historian, they may 
 nevertheless bear reading. 
 
 Paul willingly followed the kind captain's advice 
 to see Naples. He was not particularly attracted 
 
6 Xegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 by the beauty of the town and its environs, or its 
 works of art or the gay life of the people, like so 
 many others. He had reasons of his own for it. 
 The principal was that Jesus, when as a youth He 
 was walking on the shores of Genesareth, used to 
 long to see this bewitching place ; that He came 
 there, ascended Vesuvius and looked about Him. 
 
 Paul wished to tread upon the ground where the 
 Sinless Man once had walked, and to see the same 
 views as He. 
 
 So the Apostle came to Naples ; but he turned 
 his back upon its temples, castles, and gay, noisy 
 people, and went straight to Vesuvius. 
 
 Then the mountain did not look as now. The 
 highest of its tops, which is now surrounded by 
 volcanic clouds, and menaces the environs with 
 destruction, did not exist then. No sign whatever 
 foreboded that the fire was active in its interior ; 
 no tradition told of an eruption. Greek joy of 
 life and Roman pleasure celebrated their feasts in 
 safety in the groves and gardens which covered the 
 terraces up to the height of Somma, not thinking 
 that the ashen-gray desert, with its dark caverns 
 and stone blocks, betrayed what the traditions 
 concealed : that the people were living and pleasur- 
 ing on the border of a volcano. 
 
 Paul was now walking there, forgetting the fate 
 which was waiting him in Rome. The way carried 
 him higher and higher up. So he came to a place 
 
Paul in IRapIes 7 
 
 the bewitching view of which captivated him. He 
 looked over Parthenope, which lay below in groves 
 of laurel, cypress, and olive ; over the shores, with 
 their white towns, the blue islands, the endless sea. 
 He was glad to think that this sea once had re- 
 flected its glitter in the mildest of all eyes, mirrors 
 for the purest and most innocent soul that had 
 come down to our Earth, and he whispered with 
 folded hands : ' The wonderful essence of God is 
 seen in His deeds, namely, the creation of the 
 world.' 
 
 A little above the place where Paul stopped, 
 captivated by the overwhelming magnificence of 
 these regions, is now an observatory where an 
 eager scientific man, Palmieri, is following every 
 movement within Vesuvius. 
 
 Below the observatory is an inn, formerly the 
 lodging of a hermit. The jolly innkeeper wiUingly 
 offers to tired customers a red wine, which he calls 
 lacrymx Christi, but which usually is wonderfully 
 like the grapes of Ischia or Marsala ; but if he 
 suspects the traveller of being a judge of wine, he 
 will produce a wine which has grown on Somma 
 and really is lacryma, distinguished by its rich 
 colour and fine smell. 
 
 The cottage of a farmer stood here in the time 
 of Paul. The owner, a white-haired old man. 
 
8 3Legen6s ot tbe Hpostles 
 
 ceased working on his vine on seeing the stranger, 
 and went up to him. Paul accepted his invitation 
 to enter his cottage and refresh himself. The 
 fruits which the daughter of the house served 
 up were juicy, and the wine exceedingly sweet. 
 Paul praised it as a good gift, and the host 
 said: 
 
 ' Its origin is also very miraculous.' 
 
 And he told about it as follows : 
 
 One day about thirty years ago, in the very same 
 place where he had found his guest, he saw a 
 strange youth with golden curls and white forehead, 
 dressed like a Hebrew, but beautiful as the son of 
 a God, and rather like Dionys. The youth looked 
 over the country, the shores, and the sea, and said 
 that this place was a corner of Paradise, of the true 
 Olympia which fell to the Earth in the beginning 
 of time, in the battle between good and evil 
 powers. And he cried when he thought of the 
 sufferings and sins with which this pleasure-garden 
 is filled. When he was gone there sprang up from 
 the ground his tears had wet a tendril of vine, 
 which grew with marvellous haste and produced 
 the first of the grapes that had been prepared in 
 Paul's goblet. 
 
 ' I have my own thoughts about that youth,' said 
 the old man. ' A God has honoured my cottage. 
 He was Dionys, the giver of the wine, the son of 
 the Superior God.' 
 
Paul in maples 9 
 
 ' I believe so, too,' said the soldier, Paul's 
 guarder, and emptied his goblet. 
 
 ' Yes, he certainly was the Son of a God,' an- 
 swered Paul, 'and he has given us a noble, life- 
 giving wine in the chalice I have drunk to his 
 memory.' 
 
 ' Then, you know him — you, too ?' 
 
 'Yes, he has appeared to me, too. Yet on 
 Earth he was not called Dionys, but Jesus of 
 Nazareth.' 
 
 ' That was indeed what he called himself,' 
 exclaimed the old man, and put his hand to his 
 forehead as if to recall an old memory. 
 
 ' Do you wish to hear more about him ?' asked 
 the Apostle. 
 
 ' Yes ; tell us all you know.' 
 
 And Paul spoke. He was still speaking when _ 
 the sun was setting behind Ischia, and poured the 
 evening glow over the sea and its soaring sails. 
 The people of the house had gathered around 
 him. The daughter of his host sat before him, 
 listening devoutly with her hands in her lap. It 
 grew dark, the lamp was lit, and he was still 
 speaking. 
 
 On the following morning, before leaving, he 
 baptized them all, even the soldier who accom- 
 panied him. 
 
 But the vine, which according to tradition sprang 
 up from the tears of the golden-haired youth, is 
 
lo Xegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 still growing on Vesuvius, and is called the tears of 
 Christ — lacrymcR Christi. 
 
 The owner of the cottage was a rather intelligent 
 man. He had not many books, but he had one 
 which he used to read industriously — the 
 ' Georgica ' of Virgil : for there he had in sonorous 
 verses excellent counsels how to cultivate vine, 
 field, bee-hives, and domestic animals. 
 
 Therefore he was glad to hear that Paul, too, 
 had read some of the poetry of Virgil — yea, that 
 one of the reasons why he had come to Naples 
 was to see the poet's tomb. 
 
 Beyond the town and the Neapolitan bay is the 
 Posilippo Mountain. The legend says that the 
 ashes of Virgil are buried there. The antique 
 grave, a so-called columbary, is one of the 
 curiosities of the town, and known by every 
 Neapolitan boy. 
 
 Paul now went there, accompanied by his 
 host. They shortened the way with conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 ' If I am not mistaken,' said the old man, ' our 
 Lord appeared on Vesuvius in the same year that 
 Virgil died.' 
 
 'Yes,' said Paul, 'he was not granted the grace 
 he used to long for : to live long enough to sing 
 the works of the crucified Conqueror . . . but 
 Christ has since descended into the kingdom of 
 
Paul in IRaplCB n 
 
 death to announce redemption to the waiting 
 spirits.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear it, for in life he was liked by 
 all that knew him,' said the old man from 
 Vesuvius. 
 
 So they came to the object of their walk. The 
 Apostle stood long on the grave of the heathen 
 poet, occupied with silent thoughts. An old Latin 
 song tells that he ' shed pious tears ' over the ashes, 
 and at last said : 
 
 ' Ad Maronis mausoleum 
 Ductus fudit super eum 
 Pise rarem lacrymse. 
 Quantum, inquit, te fecissem 
 Virum, si te invenissem, 
 Poetarum Maxima !' 
 
 • Led to the tomb of Maro, he poured upon it the dew 
 of a pious tear. "How great a hero," said he, "would 
 I have made thee, if I had met thee, O greatest of 
 poets !" ' 
 
 Near the grave of Virgil was at that time a 
 stately villa adorned with Greek works of art, and 
 belonging to the poet Silius Italicus. It was his 
 habit every day to visit the tomb, which to him was 
 as dear as a temple. It happened that he came 
 just then, accompanied by his friend Pliny, the 
 Commander-in-Chief of the Roman fleet which lay 
 at Misenum. Clad in their togas and adorned 
 with garlands, they approached the Jewish stranger. 
 
12 Xegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 and joined in friendly conversation with him. 
 Paul said to Silius : 
 
 ' I, too, can prophesy, though I am not a poet. 
 And now I tell you that we two shall attain our 
 greatest honour in the same year, but in different 
 ways. Your way will lead up to the Capitol, and 
 before you steel will glitter. My way will lead 
 down the Aventine, and behind me steel will 
 be reddened.' 
 
 Seven years later Silius Italicus became Consul, 
 and before him were carried the marks of consular 
 distinction — the axes of the lictors. In the same 
 year the Apostle was conveyed outside the Ostia 
 Gate and beheaded. 
 
 There is something peculiar about Virgil. He 
 could not foresee in life that he, the timid, modest 
 man, would fascinate all ages. He could not 
 suspect it at all, because, while judging all others 
 with mildness, he judged himself and his songs 
 with severity, and cared nothing for an ' immortal 
 name,' so called. A quiet life with the charrns of 
 friendship was his highest desire. His most 
 famous work, the ' ^neid,' was saved from the 
 flames only by violating the dying poet's last wish. 
 But his name has descended to posterity, and all 
 generations have loved him. 
 
 Even the dark Middle Ages honoured him in a 
 certain fashion, for the popular belief made him a 
 
Paul in Baplcs 13 
 
 kind and benevolent sorcerer, and produced Virgil- 
 Lore which reached even to Iceland, and the 
 Church made him almost a Christian prophet, 
 admitted his name into its liturgy, and gave him a 
 place of honour beside the prophets of the Old 
 Testament. And this will not seem so peculiar 
 when we read his Fourth Eclogue, where he 
 connects with the cradle of a child the prophecies 
 of a new era — a golden age when Righteousness 
 shall return to Earth, our sins shall be eifaced, the 
 serpents crushed, and lambs shall graze in peace 
 among lions. Prophecies more obscure than 
 this have been explained as referring to the 
 Messiah. 
 
 When Dante in imagination was walking through 
 the horrible regions of the lower world, walking at 
 his side, teaching and pacifying, was a mild, laurel- 
 wreathed shade — Virgil. Gustave Dord is success- 
 ful in his illustrations of Dante's ' Divina Commedia' 
 where these wanderers are seen side by side, one 
 with the plastic and noble movements of Antiquity, 
 the other excited and passionate in all his gestures. 
 When Swedenborg received ghosts in his summer- 
 house in Stockholm, Virgil was one of those with 
 whom he conversed most willingly. Year after 
 year multitudes of pilgrims wander to Virgil's tomb. 
 Many go only to say they have been there ; but 
 certainly many go there, too, to offer on his grave 
 warm thanks for the beautiful and magnificent 
 
14 Xegenbs of tbc apostles 
 
 images wherewith he stored their minds in 
 boyhood. 
 
 The scenery on the way to the tomb repays you. 
 You pass the Riviera di Chiaja, the Villa Nazio- 
 nale and Boschetto, where the high life of Naples 
 is displaying its luxury, adding charm to one of the 
 most beautiful bays in the world. You walk under 
 palms, acacias and holly oaks, through the foliage 
 of which the sunbeams find their way, to glitter on 
 marble statues, or refract in the spray of the 
 fountains. On the right you have the street with 
 its crowd of horsemen, and carriages with black- 
 eyed handsome women ; on the left, the sea with its 
 fresh winds, dancing waves, and glittering colours, 
 which no pencil can render. Already in Boschetto 
 you may pay homage to Virgil, as the Neapolitans 
 have erected there a temple to his memory. Here 
 you must stay a moment on the point that juts out 
 into the sea; it is called Beldere, and celebrated 
 by the poets, and still more by the song of the 
 waves, inviting you to dream without mysticism 
 and melancholy. Over the glittering water is 
 heard at a distance, mixed with the sound of the 
 waves, the fisherman's song, and sunshine and 
 golden clouds melt together on the horizon. 
 Sorrento shines like silver, and over shores and 
 islands spread beautiful colours. 
 
 When you can tear yourself away the Posilippo 
 Grotto and the height where the tomb of Virgil is 
 
Paul in IRaples 15 
 
 shown are not far off. With a custode as guide, 
 you are ascending a winding staircase surrounded 
 on both sides by the luxuriant vegetation of the 
 South; you are coming to views you will never 
 forget, and at last you are taken down into the 
 grave which, with its niches for the urns, is like 
 other columbaries ; but here you will find the well- 
 known inscription : 
 
 ' Mantua bore me : Calabria carried me oiF : 
 Parthenope now holds me : I sang of herds, 
 rural scenes and warlike leaders.' 
 
 ' Mantua me genuit, Calabri rapuere, tenet nunc 
 Parthenope : cecini pascua, rura, duces.' 
 
 Returning from Greece in company with the 
 Emperor Augustus, Virgil was taken ill, and died 
 in Calabria. 
 
 In the Middle Ages the inscription was to be 
 read on the frieze of the arch. Now it is seen on 
 a monument which a Frenchman, with the cus- 
 tomary vanity of his race, has erected in a cheap 
 way to make Virgil's name immortalize his own. 
 The monument declares solemnly that it is ' con- 
 
 sacr6 au prince des pontes latins ' by Mr. (I 
 
 had better omit the name), ' bibliothdcaire de la 
 reine des Frangais.' Yet Virgil rendered Bavius 
 immortal; why not also a well-meaning 'biblio- 
 th^caire ' from Paris ? 
 
 From Puteoli, Paul continued his way to Rome, 
 occupied with gloomy thoughts, but at Appii Forum 
 
1 6 3Legen6s of tbe apostles 
 
 and Tres Tabernae, several miles from the capital 
 a multitude of Christians came to meet him, and 
 when he saw them he felt comforted and thanked 
 God. He had then crossed the Pontine Marshes, 
 and he had before him the Alban Mountains, on 
 whose terraces were seen the towns of Velitrse and 
 Lanuvium. Now they passed through country 
 still more rich and beautiful, strewn all over with 
 castles, villas, country-houses, and stately mauso- 
 leums ; and at last the Apostle saw Rome, the 
 queen of the world, with its walls, its splendid 
 palaces, and temples. By the Porta Capena they 
 entered the Eternal City, where we shall find Paul 
 again. 
 
II. 
 
 PAUL IN ROME. 
 
II. 
 
 PAUL IN ROME. 
 
 AMONG the Christians who went to meet Paul 
 to welcome and comfort him was a man 
 called Martial. 
 
 His parents lived in Judea beyond the Jordan. 
 One day Jesus came with His disciples, and great 
 multitudes of people gathered around Him, as usual, 
 to hear His words. Jesus was then speaking of the 
 sacredness of marriage, and of the love that makes 
 home a dwelling of God. When the mothers heard 
 this, they pressed forward with their children, that 
 He should bless them. 
 
 Martial's mother was among the women. Gently 
 pushing her son before her, she stood, timid and 
 entreating, before the Saviour, who read in her face 
 that she wished for His benediction. The disciples 
 rebuked her. Then she would have stepped aside, 
 but Jesus said : ' Suffer the little children to come 
 unto Me, and forbid them not, for of such is the 
 kingdom of God." And He took the boy up in His 
 
20 Xegenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 arms, put His hands upon his curls, blessed him, 
 and said to those around Him : ' Verily I say unto 
 you, Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of 
 God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.' 
 
 Martial followed Jesus from that moment. When 
 the latter, in a marvellous way, fed a hungry crowd 
 in the desert, it was he who carried the bread-basket 
 and the fishes. He also attended when Jesus had 
 His last meal with His disciples. He was the 
 youngest, but perchance the first, of the disciples 
 that surrounded Jesus and the Apostles, and were 
 called the ' seventy.' 
 
 Martial had early made up his mind to preach 
 Christianity in the capital of the world. Now he 
 was settled down in Rome, and had a house in 
 the Via Lata, where the brethren often came 
 together. 
 
 The captain Julius conveyed Paul and the other 
 prisoners to the ofiSce of the Prefect of the Praetorian 
 Guard, and left them there. 
 
 After the Emperor, the Praetorian Prefect was 
 the most powerful man in the Roman Empire. 
 Burrus Afranus, a moral man and good general, 
 now held that office. He and the philosopher 
 Seneca had educated and instructed the Emperor 
 Nero, but he felt no joy at it now. 
 
 Burrus carefully read over the official letters 
 Julius handed him about the prisoners, and said : 
 
IPaul in IRome 21 
 
 'The man whose name is Saul, but who is 
 called Paul, may be at liberty, but guarded by a 
 soldier.' 
 
 Festus, the Governor of Judea, had written that 
 Paul's case was only a paltry dispute between some 
 Jews, and that he, Festus, would have set him free 
 if he had not appealed to the tribunal of the 
 Emperor. 
 
 When the Christians heard that Paul, instead of 
 being put in prison, was permitted to walk about, 
 they were glad, and Martial and his wife pressed 
 him to live in their house. They said : 
 
 ' You will be able to rest with us, for God has 
 blessed our house with comfort and peace.' 
 
 ' I have no right to seek peace,' answered Paul, 
 ' but with me is a brother who needs it for the work 
 he is intending to do. He is a many-sided artist : 
 a physician, a painter, and a writer. In your house 
 he will paint pictures of the Saviour and His mother, 
 that we and our descendants may see those we 
 loved ; and, inspired by the Holy Ghost, he will 
 write about the first fate and acts of the messengers 
 of Christ.' 
 
 So he did. Luke followed Martial to his house, 
 and in course of time wrote his Gospel and the 
 Acts of the Apostles, and painted the portraits of 
 Jesus and the Virgin Mary. 
 
 Paul hired a house near the quarter where the 
 brethren lived — the so-called Ghetto, whose peculiar 
 
22 Xegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 population and narrow, dirty streets are the subject 
 of many a sketcli. 
 
 That house, or, rather, another on its site, is still 
 called Paul's School, because there, every day for 
 two years, he taught the ' things which concern the 
 Lord Jesus Christ.' There he wrote his Epistles to 
 the Ephesians, the Philippians, and the Colossians, 
 also the little Epistle to Philemon, which is so 
 beautiful, both from an artistic and human point 
 of view. 
 
 There he is said to have received the philosopher 
 Seneca — the legend speaks of a correspondence 
 between Paul and him — and another high Roman, 
 to whom Luke dedicated his Gospel. Through the 
 soldiers who guarded Paul, the new Religion spread 
 to Praetorian captains, and through them to members 
 of the Emperor's house. 
 
 We now find Paul's School between the Sixtus 
 Bridge and the Ghetto, in the Via della Regola, 
 behind the ancient Church Paola alia Regolo. Now 
 it is like a great hall, the walls of which are covered 
 with passages from the Acts of the Apostles, but 
 where, in other respects, nothing antiquated or 
 remarkable is to be seen. 
 
 When Paul came to Rome the second time, he 
 accepted Martial's repeated invitation, and stayed in 
 his house till he was dragged to the Mamertine 
 prison. 
 
Paul in IRome 23 
 
 The peace that reigned in Martial's dwelling was 
 not due to the position of the house, for on one 
 side was the Via Lata, the artery between the 
 Roman Forum, the Capitol, and the Campus 
 Martius, and near by were extended the porticos of 
 the great bazaar, Septa Julia. But while the crowd 
 was bustling outside, the children of the house 
 stood in devout silence around the writing-table of 
 Paul or the easel of Luke, and followed with ad- 
 miration the pen on the parchment or the pencil 
 on the canvas ; and while they were standing so, 
 they often saw other children, winged and shining 
 with celestial beauty, coming to mix Luke's colours, 
 or whisper something to Paul when he dropped his 
 pen. 
 
 If we go from the Piazza di Venezia to the Corso, 
 the principal street of Rome, we have on the left 
 the Doria Pamfili Palace, and close by a church, 
 Santa Maria, in the Via Lata. Once a year a 
 solemn Mass is celebrated in this temple, and then 
 we have an opportunity of seeing an altar-piece, a 
 Madonna, supposed to be painted by Luke, and 
 which was found under the church, where are to be 
 seen the ruins of Martial's house turned into a 
 crypt with two chapels. Two staircases lead down 
 to the rooms where Paul wrote the Epistles to 
 Timothy and Titus, and Luke used to paint or 
 write. The walls still bear vestiges of paintings in 
 fresco from Antiquity. Pious people, to whom 
 
24 3Legent)s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 legend is history, do not leave this place without 
 having drunk from the fountain in which Paul used 
 to baptize. But in those days the rooms lay above- 
 ground, and had daylight enough for the pen or 
 the easel. The Eternal City is a specimen of his- 
 torical strata ; wherever we dig we find the periods 
 of history, one above another. 
 
 In Rome, no day passed by without some re- 
 markable event that attracted the attention of all, 
 till a new day came with a new event. Now the 
 Emperor was giving a splendid feast in the Circus 
 Maximus or at the Marcellus Theatre ; now he 
 appeared in person before the Roman people as a 
 singer or charioteer. Often a rumour went abroad 
 that some member of the Emperor's house or some 
 man of importance, suspected of Republican 
 principles, had been made away with. Besides 
 this, people spoke of dreadful omens in the far-off 
 provinces, of conspiracies in Rome, of revolts in 
 the armies stationed near the boundaries of the 
 Empire. But at that time one thing especially was 
 the general topic, not only for days, but for weeks 
 and months, in every Roman circle. In the Forum, 
 in the great Baths, in every place where citizens 
 and strangers flocked together, people asked one 
 another, Have you seen Simon Magus? Have 
 you heard of his last miracle ? 
 
 There was just as much excitement about his 
 
IPaul in IRome 25 
 
 conductress, Helena. The Divine wisdom was 
 said to be personified in her. No one had seen a 
 more beautiful woman. But they added that her 
 beauty made them shudder. She was like an 
 image of Isis. Her features were immovable ; her 
 complexion had the colour of marble, her eyes the 
 glitter of the diamond, not of life. Was she a 
 statue to which Simon's witchcraft had given 
 ability to move? Was she a human being or a 
 demon ? 
 
 When Paul had spent some days in Rome, he 
 went across the Campus Martius towards the Pin- 
 cian Hill. The Campus Martius was crowded 
 with people who had been induced to go out by 
 the rumour that Simon Magus and Helena would 
 appear. And they came in a golden triumphal car 
 drawn by white horses. Simon was dressed as 
 Jupiter Serapis, with a sceptre in his hand ; Helena 
 as Isis, with byssus veil, a diadem in the form of a 
 half-moon, and a lotus-flower in her tresses. The 
 Emperor himself was their coachman. The car 
 was surrounded by singers and boys who were 
 swinging censers. Praetors in golden armour 
 rode before and behind. All along the road on 
 which the procession was moving the people fell 
 down on their knees, and cried : 
 
 ' Hail the God from Samaria, Caesar's friend ! 
 hail the Divine wisdom, Helena !' 
 
 From the boats floated songs and music, and in 
 
26 Xegenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 the river were thrown baskets filled with lotus- 
 flowers, which might make one believe that the 
 holy streams of Rome and Memphis had met. 
 
 In the crowd there were some philosophers, Re- 
 publicans and Christians who did not like to fall 
 down on .their knees for the sorcerer and his 
 coachman. They hastened away. But Paul stood 
 erect, his eyes seeking Simon. 
 
 He had guessed rightly. It was the same im- 
 postor who wished to buy the power of the Holy 
 Ghost from the Apostles, thinking that even the 
 holy things might be sold. Yes, it was un- 
 doubtedly Simon Magus, the sorcerer from Gitton 
 in Samaria, the disciple of the Egyptian priests, the 
 worst enemy of Christianity — the same whose 
 shameless offer Luke had been writing about on 
 the same day in his Acts of the Apostles. And 
 Paul knew now that he would have a hard battle 
 to fight with that man. 
 
 Simon had immense influence in Rome. He 
 had come there to establish a new Religion. Men 
 and women, displeased with the old one they had 
 inherited, were seeking something that would satisfy 
 better their pious feelings and their taste for the 
 mysterious. Therefore great multitudes, especially 
 the fashionable women, wandered to the Isis 
 temples and Mithras grottos, and imagined they 
 perceived a better world in heartrending music. 
 
Paul in IRome 27 
 
 incomprehensible prayers and peculiar ceremonies. 
 Simon had turned high-priest both in the temple 
 of Isis and the Mithras grottos, where he bewitched 
 all minds and benumbed all common-sense with 
 his witchcraft. Paul was disgusted to iind that 
 many who had before listened to Christianity now 
 were being led astray by the impostor. 
 
 Until Simon Magus came to Rome, the Emperor 
 Nero had shown an inclination for useful and phil- 
 anthropic works. But now he was suddenly turned 
 into a madman, a wild beast. How came it 
 about ? 
 
 Nero had wished to see Helena in his palace, 
 and to hear from her lips the most secret truth of 
 the Divine wisdom. It was forbidden to speak to 
 Helena, and she never spoke to anyone. When 
 she appeared in a choice circle, it was only for a 
 few moments, and then people forgot that she was 
 Silence, for her fair and majestic manners had 
 the effect of a speech of Demosthenes. A seal on 
 the lips was in a Goddess like her what it is in many 
 others : the best eloquence. 
 
 Simon granted the Emperor's request on the 
 following conditions : Helena, accompanied by 
 him, should come to the palace at night, at the 
 new moon. No sound that reminded of the day 
 should be heard. Courtiers and sentinels should 
 receive them in silence. Only a few lights and 
 torches should light up their way. The Emperor 
 
28 XeaenDs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 should be alone, and hear Helena without uttering 
 a word himself. 
 
 Accompanied by Simon, she came one night 
 in a litter to the palace. Through marble 
 galleries and halls, lit up by a few lamps, the 
 veiled woman was conducted by a courtier deeper 
 and deeper into the Palatine castle. Here and 
 there a sentinel was seen, stiff and immovable as 
 if cut out from the wall. Simon stopped at the 
 doors of the Throne-Room. Only a few candelabra 
 burnt within, and in the background Nero was 
 sitting on his throne. Helena, dressed as an 
 Egyptian priestess, glided in, approached noise- 
 lessly, ascended the steps of the throne, threw 
 back her veil, bent her calm head over Nero, 
 looked with her cold eyes in his, with the power of 
 a snake-charmer, and whispered in his ear — what ? 
 The most secret truth of the Divine wisdom. 
 But how runs it ? Nero sat like one petrified. On 
 the following night he called in the poisoner 
 Locusta, who prepared the deadly draught for 
 Britannicus. Thenceforth murder succeeded 
 murder. 
 
 The Apostle Peter, the principal of the Roman 
 congregation, was at that time on a missionary 
 journey in the West. An angel recalled him to 
 Rome to co-operate with Paul in the battle against 
 Simon Magus. 
 
Ipaul tn IRome 29 
 
 At a familiar feast in the palace, to which only 
 Simon, the effeminately handsome favourite Sporus, 
 and a few fashionable idlers were invited, Sporus 
 said to Simon : 
 
 ' Your miracles are great ; but no one of them is 
 equal to the last miracle of Jesus of Nazareth, 
 when He ascended alive to Heaven. Imitate that, 
 if you can, or acknowledge that you are van- 
 quished.' 
 
 Simon answered : 
 
 ' Only ignorant people take that for a miracle. 
 In death man is stripped of his outer cover, 
 and what remains is a glorified body, on which 
 the stars exercise an irresistible attraction. But a 
 real miracle, and the greatest of all, would be if 
 anyone with his perishable body ascended to 
 Olympia. That was never seen, though the Jews 
 have some prattle about such a thing.' 
 
 ' And that is impossible, even to the greatest 
 sorcerer,' said Nero. 
 
 'No, Caesar, nothing is impossible to you and 
 Simon,' interrupted the sorcerer from Gitton. 
 
 ' I take you at your words,' cried the half- 
 drunken Nero. ' You shall make an Ascension be- 
 fore my eyes, and in the sight of the Roman people, 
 or you shall die.' 
 
 'I will, before you and the Roman people, 
 ascend above the clouds to the throne of my father 
 Jupiter, drink his health in Ganymede's goblet, 
 
3° 3Legen&s of tbe apostles 
 
 and return to the Earth, to the God of the Earth, 
 my imperial friend.' 
 
 '■Good!' cried Nero; ' that will be a spectacle 
 to offer the people, for no one has ever seen the 
 like. But soon, soon !' 
 
 ' I will make my Ascension this day fortnight. 
 After that everyone will believe in me.' Simon 
 emptied his goblet, and added : ' The miracle has 
 never been seen before ; but it is a small matter to 
 me, Caesar. Let us now discuss more serious or 
 more amusing things.' 
 
 On the following morning the whole city of 
 Rome knew the day and the hour when Simon 
 Magus was to ascend to Heaven from the Capitol, 
 and nothing else was spoken of. 
 
 Peter hastened to Paul, and the two Apostles 
 agreed to be among the spectators in the Forum on 
 the appointed day. 
 
III. 
 
 THE ASCENSION OF SIMON MAGUS. 
 
III. 
 
 THE ASCENSION OF SIMON MAGUS. 
 
 THE appointed day was come at last. The 
 Senate and the tribunals had put off their 
 business, the shops were empty, the Prsetorian 
 Camp at the Porta Nomentana was abandoned ; 
 only a few sentinels were pacing to and fro, com- 
 plaining that duty prevented them from attending 
 the great festival of the day ; the gymnastic sports 
 in the Campus Martius were postponed, for every- 
 body had hastened to the place for the promised 
 Ascension of Simon Magus. 
 
 The Roman Forum, the Via Sacra, and the 
 galleries of the temples looked like a dense multi- 
 tude of people. Every tower and pinnacle, every 
 roof and window, on the Esquiline Hill was crowded 
 with spectators. On the balconies of the Pala- 
 tine castle the fashionable matrons of Rome were 
 seated, in brilliant costumes, speaking of their 
 idol, and impatiently waiting for the moment when 
 he would give proof of his power. 
 
 3 
 
34 3Legen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 High up on the Capitol, overlooking the crowd, 
 the Emperor was seen with his Court, and on either 
 side were marble chairs for the Consuls, the Sena- 
 tors, and the Knights. 
 
 At the feet of the Emperor and the Empress, 
 Helena was seated, dressed as the Goddess of 
 Victory. On Simon's return to the Earth, she was 
 to receive from Nero's hand a golden wreath to 
 crown the conqueror of the day. 
 
 In all the temples the priests were gathered in 
 white holiday attire, and crowds of people stood 
 near the temple steps, around the victims which 
 were adorned with the sacred fillet. 
 
 The omens of the day had all been favourable, 
 with the exception of one, to which they neverthe- 
 less tried to give a satisfactory interpretation. 
 There was whispered something about an altar 
 which stood near the shrine of the Jupiter Capito- 
 linus. Incense was burned there in the morning, 
 but the smoke had mounted violently and con- 
 densed into a cloud, which still remained like a 
 black spot in the bright heavens. 
 
 There was a legend about this altar, which the 
 priests and friars in the Church of St. Maria in 
 Ara Coeli still relate. The Roman Senate wished 
 to honour the Emperor Augustus with the name of 
 God, erect a temple to him, and establish a par- 
 ticular order of priests for his worship. Augustus, 
 the man who bore success and greatness without 
 
Ubc Hscension of Simon /iDagus 35 
 
 arrogance, hesitated to accept such an honour, and 
 called in the Tiburtine Sibyl to consult her. She 
 came, fixed her dusky eyes upon the Emperor, 
 muttered a few words, and went away. The very 
 same words were whispered at the same moment 
 to the poet Virgil while in Naples he was writing 
 his Fourth Eclogue. They meant that the God 
 of the new system of the world would come from 
 Heaven, not from Earth. The Sibyl was no sooner 
 gone than the Emperor Augustus saw Heaven 
 open and the Holy Virgin Mary, with the infant 
 Jesus in her arms, seated on a bright cloud and 
 descending to the Earth. 
 
 Augustus rejected the title of God, and in the 
 place where he had seen the vision caused an altar 
 to be built, which was called Ara Coeli (the 
 heavenly altar). 
 
 Where the temple of the Capitoline Jupiter was 
 supposed to have stood, on the highest top of the 
 Capitol, is now the curious Church of St. Maria 
 in Ara Coeli, and in one of her chapels is seen an 
 ancient altar, on the front of which this legend is 
 painted in relief 
 
 Paul, Peter, and Martial had agreed to be in the 
 Roman Forum. They chose a place by the Temple 
 of Castor and Pollux, where they could see very 
 little, because the wall of the Basilica Julia 
 
 3—2 
 
36 OLegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 obstructed the view to the Capitol, but where 
 there was room for kneeling and prayer. 
 
 The Apostles had sought Simon the day before; 
 and entreated him to abandon his wicked inten- 
 tion. Simon received them as a Senator might his 
 slaves, heard them with impatience, charged them 
 with drawing the people away from him, the true 
 prophet, and threatened them with the anger of 
 the Emperor if they dared to appear before him 
 any more. 
 
 Simon lingers. The crowds are growing im- 
 patient. Some jovial souls suggest that the eagle 
 of Jupiter, which was to carry the new Ganymede 
 to Heaven, had given up the service, or that the 
 travelling-carriage was not ready, as the cloud 
 which was to serve as wheel-tire was broken in 
 pieces. 
 
 But listen ! The grumblings and the jokes are 
 silenced. The multitudes make a noise, they 
 shout, ' There, there !' and a silence ensues ; they 
 are intently waiting for something. 
 
 The Apostles conclude that the people have got 
 sight of the expected sorcerer at last. And Simon 
 Magus really appears on the Capitol. As if to 
 brave the laws of gravitation, he is dressed in a 
 mantle with deep folds, embroidered with gold, 
 silver, and Oriental pearls. The sunlight is 
 refracted with the colours of the rainbow in this 
 
Ubc Hscensfott of Simon /iDagus 37 
 
 garment, the long train of which is carried by 
 servants of Isis on one side, and on the other by 
 Mithras' priests, known by their Phrygian caps and 
 long beards. 
 
 Simon advances to the Emperor's throne, falls 
 down on his knees, and says with a loud voice that 
 he is not going to perform a miracle in his own 
 honour, or to give a spectacle to the Emperor, 
 the Senate, and the people, but to deliver Rome 
 from the false prophets, the Christians, who 
 had sworn the ruin of the city and the Roman 
 power. 
 
 He rises at a sign from Nero, kisses the hands 
 of the Empress and Helena, bows to the Senators 
 and the Knights, and walks with solemn steps 
 towards the edge of the Capitoline rock where it 
 overlooks the Forum. Here he stops. 
 
 The noise which greeted him is silent, and he is 
 standing there looking over the square, the hills, 
 and the innumerable crowds, the people of Rome, 
 the masters of the world, who now, at the first sign 
 of his power, are ready to fall down on their knees 
 before him. He is looking forward to the day 
 when all these temples will raise their columns 
 around his statue, and incense will be burned for 
 him on these altars ; and his eyes flash with pride. 
 To the people he appears like Jupiter's charitable 
 son, ^sculapius, with the ribbon around his curls 
 and staff in hand. He seems to increase to super- 
 
38 OLegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 human height, so that the rock only forms a 
 pedestal to his powerful figure. 
 
 But it is time to begin. Simon mutters a spell, 
 and takes a step towards the edge of the precipice. 
 He puts his right foot beyond it as if to feel 
 whether he has a sure foothold in the air. 
 
 The Emperor rises from his throne with curiosity, 
 and all the people are silent. 
 
 But now again is heard a noise of a hundred 
 thousand voices. Peter and Paul cannot see what 
 causes the surprise of the people, but some voices 
 cry : ' He has left the rock ! he is soaring !' 
 
 Simon no longer had the ground under his feet. 
 He stood on a level with the rock, but in the free 
 air, arranging the long, glittering mantle, in the 
 folds of which a wind was playing. 
 
 The Emperor himself could not suppress an 
 exclamation of surprise. Senators and Knights 
 ran up from their seats to see the miracle. The 
 old Seneca was eagerly discussing the possible cause 
 of the phenomenon with some Greek philosophers, 
 who were invited to the feast. A Greek artist, 
 leaving all explanations, took his pencil and drew 
 in rapid lines the bearing of Simon as model for a 
 plastic figure, soaring in the air, without any visible 
 support. 
 
 Paul and Peter fell down on their knees and 
 folded their hands. Martial and the other Chris- 
 tians stood around as a protection. 
 
'Cbe ascension of Simon /IDagus 39 
 
 When Simon had arranged the mantle carefully, 
 he made a sign, and from the roof of Jupiter's 
 temple were heard flutes, trumpets, and cymbals. 
 Soon afterwards music was heard from the hills, 
 the heights of Viminalis and Quirinalis, from the 
 tops of Janiculum and the Vatican Mount. Rome 
 was floating in a, sea of music, and through it 
 Simon was ascending, slowly and solemnly, like 
 the moon, to higher regions. 
 
 It was as if invisible hands carried him, while he 
 was looking down smiling at the people. The sun 
 glittered on his golden diadem and waving train, 
 the wind spread his long curls, and the more he 
 ascended the more transparent the air seemed, that 
 the people might long see his Olympian face. 
 And the people cried : 
 ' This is the power of a God, not of a man !' 
 Some moments passed, and Simon disappeared 
 more and more. Now he appeared only like a 
 speck in the sky. Nero, who had been absorbed 
 in looking at Simon, addressed himself to Helena, 
 and said in jest : 
 
 ' If the prophet should forget his promise to 
 Csesar, and remain in Olympia ! But he has to 
 choose between Hebe and you, and I am sure he 
 will return to the Earth.' 
 
 Simon was at first pleased with his Ascension. 
 The mantle he wore was one of those magic 
 mantles that many a legend knows of, such as 
 
4° Xegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 Faust wished for on the evening when he took his 
 famous walk with Wagner, and dreamt he was 
 soaring in an eternal evening glow. 
 
 The mantle had no actual power in itself, but it 
 was carried by twelve strong aerial spirits whom 
 Simon's witchcraft had summoned to his service. 
 The nine hills of Rome lay beneath his feet, their 
 temples glittering in the sunshine. The winding 
 water of the Tiber shone like molten gold, and 
 near Ostia it resembled a stream of lava which 
 flows out into the sea. The horizon rose more 
 and more, the green fields of Latium diminished, 
 and the Sardinian mountains rose higher and 
 higher, while on the other side the Apennines, with 
 their snowy tops, sank deeper and deeper. 
 
 Reposing in it as in the most comfortable sedan- 
 chair, the sorcerer enjoyed his journey immensely. 
 
 Simon was bewitched by this sight, and inflated 
 with pride at the thought that this world would 
 belong to him, be full of temples erected to him, 
 sound with hymns in his honour. 
 
 When he had risen so high that the tones from 
 the hills of Rome no longer reached his ears, he 
 heard other and more beautiful music. Was it the 
 harmony of the worlds? No, but he who has 
 power in the air sent a thousand small spirits who 
 soared invisible around the great magician, and 
 played on their .^olian harps, and sang with soft 
 voices, ' All this belongs to you, for you have 
 
trbe Hscension of Simon /TOaQus 41 
 
 fallen down and worshipped our Master '; and the 
 tones, though subdued, filled the heavens, and 
 sounded like mild echoes from the Alps and the 
 forests of Germany, from the deserts of Africa and 
 the mountains of Libya. 
 
 Alas ! this pleasure was not to last long. It was 
 gradually disturbed by a disagreeable discovery. 
 Simon felt that he did not repose so well in his 
 mantle as before. Sybarite as he was, it would 
 have provoked him to anger on the Earth if his 
 sofa cushions had not been comfortable. The 
 more reason for him now to be anxious and angry. 
 Now the mantle was stretched too much, now it 
 streamed, and sometimes it seemed as if the hands 
 that bore it had no sure hold. Simon scolded the 
 twelve spirits, and told them to do their business 
 better. They answered, grumbling, that they did 
 their business with all diligence, but here the air 
 was thin and mixed with odours from other 
 celestial bodies. A few moments passed away, 
 and Simon perceived that he went more slowly. 
 He asked the demons angrily if they were afraid of 
 the proximity of Heaven, and threatened to shut 
 them up in his ring for a thousand years if they 
 spared their inexhaustible forces. The spirits 
 replied in lamenting chorus, that they felt some- 
 thing pecuhar they had never felt before, in arms, 
 fingers, and claws, and that from the Earth they 
 
42 3Legent)s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 heard two voices which made them shudder. 
 Down in the Forum men are on their knees ; per- 
 chance the voices are theirs. 
 
 Then Simon became frightened. He thought 
 of Paul and Peter. Eager as he had been for 
 ascending to Olympia, equally desirous was he 
 now of returning to the Earth before the forces of 
 the demons failed them. 
 
 Yet it was a perilous descent. Now one, now 
 another spirit let go its hold, and the mantle 
 fluttered around the sorcerer like a loose sail in 
 the storm. Simon seized the upper border of the 
 mantle with both his hands ; he shut his eyes to 
 the horrible depth beneath him, his trembling lips 
 uttered the most powerful spells a mortal can say 
 without being burned to ashes ; and between 
 whiles he menaced, the demons with the worst of 
 punishments. 
 
 But the demons complained of feeling weaker 
 and weaker. When their hands were tired they 
 seized the mantle with their teeth, or tried to hold 
 it fast between their hoofs. They were undeniably 
 zealous, but who can be forced beyond his power ? 
 
 They were still so high up that Simon could not 
 hear the flutes, kettledrums, and cymbals that 
 sounded from the hills of Rome. His situation 
 was desperate. 
 
 Then the old dragon, Michael's enemy, came 
 soaring through the air. ' Courage !' cried he to 
 
Ube Hscension of Simon /iftaguB 43 
 
 Simon, and whipped the spirits to warm their limbs 
 and soften their stiff hands. 
 
 Now Simon heard flutes and cymbals. A few 
 seconds more, and he heard the noise of a hundred 
 thousand human voices like the roaring of a far-off 
 cascade. 
 
 'Another moment, and I am saved. Another 
 moment, and I am standing before Caesar to bring 
 him the compliments of the Olympian Gods. 
 Another moment, and I have conquered.' 
 
 Thus he thought. But now at the critical 
 moment Peter and Paul forced their way through 
 the crowd, and cried, with voices that were heard 
 above all the din round about : 
 
 ' Lord, Lord ! show that his artifices are im- 
 potent, that this people may not be led astray ! 
 And may the false prophet outlive his fall to 
 acknowledge his defeat !' 
 
 The Apostles had hardly uttered this prayer before 
 the demons let go the mantle, and flew in tumbling 
 movements, angry, ashamed or malicious, in all 
 directions. 
 
 Simon was then at a distance of only a few 
 fathoms from the ground. He fell down before 
 Nero's throne, and lay there, with broken legs, in 
 a swoon, and bleeding. 
 
 At the same moment that Simon fell Helena 
 disappeared. Only her diadem was found in the 
 place where she had been sitting ; but some people 
 
44 Xegenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 professed to have seen a little serpent winding up 
 Nero's shoulders, curling round his diadem, and 
 hiding itself in his hair. 
 
 This legend of Simon Magus and his Ascension 
 is found as early as in Hegesippus, a Christian 
 writer of the second century. He pretends also 
 that Simon, after his fall, was carried to the town 
 of Aricia, in the Alban Mountains, and died there. 
 
 Ecclesiastical Art had a predilection for the 
 Ascension of Simon Magus. The Capitol and Forum 
 with their rich architecture, Nero and the magnifi- 
 cence of his imperial suite, Helena's dismal beauty, 
 the Apostles praying in the middle of the crowded 
 Forum — all this was tempting for the artist, though 
 it was difficult to make the painting dignified when 
 the principal group had to be the falling sorcerer 
 and his fleeing spirits, adorned with horns and 
 tails. 
 
 One of these paintings is to be found in the 
 Geographical Gallery of the Vatican, another by 
 Vanni over the altar of Peter and Paul in the 
 Church of St. Peter. The beautiful Church Maria 
 degli Angeli has two paintings on the same sub- 
 ject. One of them is a copy of the painting in 
 the Church of St. Peter, where the same legend is 
 found also represented in marble. 
 
 At the triumphal arch of Titus, near the Basilica 
 Marentia, is the little Church Francesca Romana. 
 
XCbe ascension of Simon /iBagus 4S 
 
 Among the holy relics which are shown there is 
 a stone in which are seen the marks left by the 
 knees of the Apostles, for it is said that Peter and 
 Paul were kneeling on that stone when the demons 
 carried Simon through the air. This is confirmed 
 by an Italian inscription, which, however, only 
 speaks of Peter ; but a learned priest assured the 
 author that one of the marks undoubtedly was 
 from St. Paul, and he quoted the ' Liber Ponti- 
 ficalis ' and Gregory of Tours to support his 
 opinion. 
 
IV. 
 PRISCA AND PUDENTIANA. 
 
IV. 
 
 PRISCA AND PUDENTIANA. 
 
 THE legend which speaks of the school of 
 Paul and the house of Martial has, of 
 course, not forgotten where the Apostle Peter, the 
 first president of the Roman congregation, lived 
 during his long and successful work in the capital 
 of the world. Let us also wander to those places. 
 First we go to the Aventine. From the Tiber 
 this mountain gives the impression of magnificent 
 but melancholy beauty. The terraces are shadowed 
 by the dark foliage of cypresses and rock-pines, 
 and the height is adorned with churches and 
 monasteries, which from below look like castles of 
 the Middle Ages. The road leading to it is one 
 of the most solitary in Rome. Between the high 
 walls that on both sides follow it in its windings, 
 we seldom meet a Roman, and still more seldom 
 one of those foreigners with Baedeker or Murray 
 in their hands, who are roving all over the town. 
 A curse has rested on the Aventine for many 
 
 4 
 
5° 5Legen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 centuries. Formerly it was the most populous of 
 the hills of Rome ; multitudes of free, industrious 
 artisans lived there between numerous temples. 
 Now it is a desert, and the few people who dwell 
 there try to leave it in summer-time, for then 
 the wind carries the Malaria, ' the bad air,' from 
 the marshes of the Campagna over the slopes of 
 Aventinus, and brings with it fevers, consumption, 
 and death. 
 
 It was on a warm day in the month of April I 
 passed that way last. A black-bearded man in a 
 ragged cloak was enjoying his siesta on the grassy 
 wayside in the shadow of the wall. That was the 
 only human being I saw till I reached the monastery 
 of St. Sabina. A lark was warbling high over me 
 in the blue heavens ; that was the only interrup- 
 tion of the silence. In the cool portico of the 
 monastery a fat Dominican friar was sleeping, and 
 beside him a half-sleeping brother of the same 
 order took a pinch of snuff. Stretched out on the 
 stone-floor at their feet lay some ragged figures — 
 men, women, and children — the guests of the 
 monastery, living upon its alms, brought up to the 
 heaviest of all vocations — that of idleness. In 
 the garden of the monastery I was shown an 
 orange-tree planted by St. Dominic. I found it 
 a bad compensation for all the wood that had 
 been consumed in the pyres his friars had made 
 and kindled under the martyrs of a purified creed. 
 
prisca an& pu&entiana 51 
 
 My way carried me to the right by a still more 
 solitary road, which goes over the slope beyond 
 the Jewish cemetery and the Circus Maximus to 
 the Church of St. Prisca, the object of my walk. 
 The only creatures I met were the small, lively, 
 pretty lizards, which were running in the sunshine 
 through the crevices in the fence, or peeping out 
 between the climbing plants. The sohtude would 
 have been oppressive if it had not been so har- 
 monious. Not a breath of air stirred the crowns 
 of the rock-pines and the plane-trees ; not the least 
 ■cloud was seen in the deep-blue sky, which grew 
 into violet towards the horizon. 
 
 In this solitude lies the old Church of St. Prisca. 
 It is more than a thousand years old, but still 
 older are the antique pillars which support its 
 vault, and the crypt over which it is built, for the 
 floor and walls of this crypt are, according to 
 tradition, remains of the house which once be- 
 longed to the hosts of the Apostle Peter, the pious 
 ■couple, Aquila and Prisca, also called Priscilla. 
 There is still to be seen a large excavated antique 
 capital, in which the Apostle is said to have 
 baptized. The altar-piece of the church represents 
 Peter baptizing Prisca and her family. Beyond 
 this there is not much worth seeing, for the old 
 sanctuary has in modern times more than once 
 been repaired and 'improved': that means here, 
 as in many other cases, spoiled by bad taste. 
 
 4—2 
 
52 Xegen&s of Wc apostles 
 
 Prisca and Aquila are known to the reader 
 through the New Testament. ' Greet Priscilla 
 and Aquila, my helpers in Christ Jesus. Who 
 have for my life laid down their own necks ; unto 
 whom not only I give thanks, but also all the 
 churches of the Gentiles. Likewise greet the church 
 that is in their house.' So Paul writes in the 
 sixteenth chapter of his Epistle to the Romans, 
 and that greeting makes us think highly of the 
 faith of this couple. But our respect for them 
 increases when we remember what Luke says in 
 the Acts of the Apostles : That Apollos, one of 
 the most learned and eloquent of the first pro- 
 claimers of Christianity, and probably the author 
 of the Epistle to the Hebrews, was instructed by 
 Aquila and Priscilla. ' They expounded unto 
 him the way of God more perfectly.' 
 
 We know that Aquila and Priscilla were arti- 
 sans, that they followed the trade of tentmakers 
 — the same by which the Apostle Paul earned his 
 bread. When the Emperor Claudius expelled the 
 Jews from Rome, they, too, had to leave the city, 
 as Aquila was an Israelite, born in Pontus. Then 
 they moved to Corinth, where Paul became their 
 guest, and where they received the congregation in 
 their house, as in Rome. Afterwards they settled 
 down in Ephesus, and remained there until they 
 were allowed to return to Rome. 
 
 A Latin inscription in the primaeval church says 
 
prisca anb pubentiana 53 
 
 that the house of Aquila and Priscilla was built on 
 the remnants of a Temple of Diana, and this on an 
 altar of Hercules, which the Arcadian fairy-king 
 Evander had built a hundred years before Romulus. 
 What a host of recollections thus lead us into the 
 night of Antiquity ! And while the sun is setting, 
 and the walls of St. Prisca throw a lengthening 
 shadow, we stay here a moment to dream in the 
 solitude, and ask what traditions and recollections 
 the coming centuries will add to those which the 
 past have linked to this place, now so solitary and 
 melancholy. 
 
 Among the Christians who surrounded Paul and 
 Peter in the Roman Forum, when they implored 
 God to testify against Simon Magus, was an old 
 man whom the people greeted with respect, as he 
 was one of the first citizens of Rome, and the 
 broad purple border on his toga indicated his rank 
 of Senator. His name was Pudens. 
 
 With him were his two pretty daughters, Puden- 
 tiana and Praxedes, and his two sons, Novatius and 
 Timothy. After the departure of Prisca and Aquila, 
 Pudens had given Peter a refuge in his house, for 
 the Senator's eyes were opened to the truth of Chris- 
 tianity, and he and his family were baptized. Often 
 the Christians gathered in Pudens' house, and then 
 the high-born man was seen, gay and humble, 
 among poor artisans and slaves, giving them the 
 
54 OLegen&s of tbe apostles 
 
 name of brother, and receiving the name of brother 
 from their lips. 
 
 Pudens was a Republican. He did not conceal 
 his principles, and had therefore long been waiting 
 for death by the Emperor's order. But Nero, 
 capricious in his cruelty, still spared him. Before 
 he became a Christian, he saw with despair the 
 deeper and deeper moral decline of the Roman 
 people; and though a Republican, he did not 
 beheve in the possibility of a Republic. Omnia 
 ruunt — everything rushes towards destruction : that 
 was his view of the world. Now again he was 
 victoriously looking towards the future, for he had 
 found the one immovable basis of human freedom 
 — the brotherhood in Christ. 
 
 Not far from the gold-glittering Basilica Maria 
 Maggiore, one of the most magnificent temples of 
 Modern Rome, is hidden, in a modest street, a 
 remarkable church, called St. Pudentiana — remark- 
 able because it is the oldest church in Rome. Only 
 the Church Pietro in Vincoli rivals it in age. A 
 flight of steps leads down to the churchyard of St. 
 Pudentiana, which lies in a hollow, while the ground 
 about it has been covered with new strata century 
 after century. 
 
 The first time I visited it I heard most beautiful 
 singing. Curtains at all the windows shut out the 
 daylight, tapers were burning on the high altar, 
 
Iprisca an5 pu^entiana S5 
 
 priests in holiday attire were bowing, kneeling, and 
 muttering in the choir, and a congregation, mostly 
 women and children, listened with rapture to a 
 quartette from one of the side-aisles, above all to a 
 fresh and sonorous boy soprano, without paying the 
 least attention to the altar service. 
 
 The Church of St. Pudentiana, so called after the 
 Senator's daughter — another church in the neigh- 
 bourhood is named after the sister Praxedes — is 
 built in the place where Pudens' house stood. 
 Part of the mosaic floor in the side-aisle of the 
 church belonged to the Senator's palace. The 
 walls of the crypt are remnants of the warm bath- 
 rooms which the son, Novatius, caused to be con- 
 structed in his father's house. On the altar in a 
 side-chapel in the left nave is an urn, a present to 
 the church from Cardinal Wiseman ; in it are pre- 
 served the remaining pieces of the wooden table 
 over which the Apostle Peter, in Pudens' house, 
 celebrated his first Communion, administering the 
 bread and wine to the faithful. 
 
 Another wooden table, in perfect preservation, 
 which also belonged to Pudens' house, and served 
 Peter for the same purpose, is to be seen in the 
 great Lateran Church, and is still used there as an 
 altar. But only the Pope is allowed to say Mass 
 over it, and that on account of a particular privi- 
 lege, for the altars of the Roman Catholic Churches 
 must all be of stone, with this single exception, 
 
5 6 Xegenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 according to the Liturgy and the Canonical pre- 
 scriptions. 
 
 If the legend is right, Pudens' richly-adorned 
 Senatorial chair has also descended to posterity. 
 In order to preserve it, the Pope Alexander caused 
 the chair to be enclosed in the gilt bronze throne 
 which is seen in the great choir of St. Peter's, sup- 
 ported by four images representing two teachers in 
 the Latin and two in the Greek Church. 
 
 The mosaics in the great choir of St. Pudentiana 
 are from the fourth century, and, from an artistic 
 point of view, considered the most remarkable in 
 Rome. They represent Christ, the Apostles, and 
 the two sisters, Pudentiana and Praxedes, both 
 with martyr crowns in their hands ; for, according 
 to the legend, they, too, had to suffer death for 
 their faith. 
 
V. 
 
 NERO AND HIS MISTRESS. 
 
V. 
 
 NERO AND HIS MISTRESS. 
 
 WHEN Paul had spent two years in Rome, 
 his sentence was at last pronounced. 
 The tribunal of Caesar had examined all the com- 
 plaints against him, and found them groundless. 
 Paul was free. 
 
 He had often spoken with Peter of journeys in 
 the far-off West, of their duty to carry the joyful 
 message to the remotest boundaries of the known 
 world. Now that Paul was free, the Apostles 
 agreed to travel, Peter to Aquitania, Paul to Spain. 
 Peter appointed Linus principal of the Roman 
 congregation ; a parting feast was given in Pudens' 
 house, and followed by the benedictions of their 
 brethren and sisters they took their travellers' staves 
 and went away. 
 
 They left behind them a numerous faithful 
 brotherhood, in the care of good pastors — they 
 did not suspect to what a fate 
 
6o OLegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 The same day that Peter and Paul passed out 
 through the Ostian Gate, Nero was seated in 
 Cahgula's palace on the Palatine, conversing with 
 his architect Celer. 
 
 Celer was an artist to the Emperor's taste. 
 Whether he had an eye for the great and pure in 
 Greek Art we do not know, but he had an eye for 
 the pretty, charming, and brilliant, and the out- 
 wardly great — that which excites astonishment by 
 gigantic proportions. When his visions of art 
 were not cabinet specimens, they were dreams the 
 execution of which defied all human power. 
 Palaces towering to Heaven, supported by forests 
 of pillars carrying high up in the sky rocks cut out 
 into statues, an infinity of colonnades, cascades 
 throwing whole rivers as drops, marble ponds with 
 islands and boats, a world of gold, ivory, jasper, 
 and marble adorned with the best works of Polyg- 
 notus, Parrhasius and Apelles, of Phidias, Scopas 
 and Praxiteles. This was the vision he conjured 
 up before the Emperor while they were looking 
 over the Forum, the Capitol, and the Esquiline. 
 
 Nero listened with the greater rapture the wilder 
 the artist's dreams became. 
 
 ' But do you know,' continued Celer — ' do you 
 know, Caesar, what I see high over houses and 
 temples ? I see a God on whose brow the light of 
 the setting sun still lingers after it has left the hills 
 of Rome. I see a gigantic statue without an equal, 
 
IRcro an& bis flOf stress 6i 
 
 compared with which the Pyramids are dwarfs. 
 The image has your features. The forehead on 
 which the sunshine lingers is Nero's. . . . But,' 
 added he with a sigh, 'all this is a dream.' 
 
 ' Which shall become a reality,' interrupted the 
 Emperor. 
 
 ' I expected that promise of you,' said Celer. 
 ' However bold my dreams may be, you are capable 
 of realizing them. But there, why are you Emperor, 
 if not to work miracles ? A thousand houses and 
 temples must be pulled down to give room to this 
 one palace — Caesar Nero's golden house — but your 
 will is law, and your power unlimited.' 
 
 Some time afterwards — it was on the 19th of 
 July in the year 64 — a fire broke out in Rome, 
 which made plenty of room for Nero's intended 
 castle. For eight days the city was like a gigantic 
 pyre. Ten of its fourteen quarters were burnt 
 down, and works of art of enormous value were 
 lost. The wind, which blew from the sea, drove 
 the smoke in peculiar shapes towards the Apen- 
 nines, and the people who saw it said with terror : 
 ' The genii of Rome are fleeing !' 
 
 On the night when the fire was at its height, 
 Nero was standing on the pinnacles of a high 
 tower, enjoying the spectacle. He could not sufiS- 
 ciently praise its overpowering beauty. Earth, sea 
 and sky blazed. The towns and castles on the 
 
62 3Legen60 of tbe Hpostles 
 
 terraces of the mountains that surround Rome 
 were seen more distinctly in the middle of the night 
 than in the daytime, and on the highest tops the 
 eternal snow seemed mixed with red streams of 
 lava. From the burning houses rose the noise of 
 millions of voices, as if the legions of Rome and all 
 the Barbarians were fighting in the middle of the 
 fire. Transported by the sight, Nero called for 
 laurel-wreath and cithara, and he touched the 
 strings and sang with diabolical enthusiasm a song 
 of the destruction of Troy. 
 
 Between Monte Cavalla and the Trajan Forum 
 is a tower which the people call Torre di Nerone, 
 because the Emperor is supposed to have watched 
 the fire from it. Yet this tower dates from a much 
 later time. 
 
 If it were possible to be a true artist or only a 
 critic without ideality and heart — if great animad- 
 versiveness and knowledge of art, refined taste and 
 improved technical ability, were sufficient — then 
 the Emperor Nero had been what he prided him- 
 self on being. He looked at everything, even 
 his own death eventually, from an sesthetic point 
 of view. Abstract esthetics with no morals 
 were incarnate in this man : therefore he was a 
 monster. 
 
 But when the fire was extinguished a hundred 
 thousand people were homeless, and when they 
 saw that the ruins were removed to make room for 
 
IRero anb bis /Iftfstress 63 
 
 an imperial palace, and heard that this was to 
 cover a great part of the burnt quarters, they turned 
 their suspicions very high : a threatening mood 
 arose which grew bolder and bolder, so that in the 
 Palatine were heard voices from the Roman Forum 
 crying, ' Down with the great incendiary !' 
 
 But Nero knew how to turn the wrath of the 
 people in another direction. There was in Rome 
 a sect about whose mysterious customs there were 
 so many peculiar traditions. The Emperor laid 
 the blame of the conflagration on this sect, the 
 Christians. Hundreds of them were dragged 
 before the tribunals, and though no testimony to 
 the truth of the accusation could be pressed out of 
 them, they nevertheless spoke such words of a 
 judgment of God over a sinful city that the most 
 horrible sentences were pronounced upon them. 
 They were dressed in skins of wild beasts to be 
 torn in pieces by dogs ; they were crucified ; they 
 were sewed in tarred bags and hung on lamp-posts 
 to light up the orgies the Emperor was celebrating 
 on the Vatican Mount or the nocturnal Circus 
 Entertainments he gave to humour the people. But 
 though brought up to bloodthirstiness and con- 
 vinced of the guilt of the Christians, the people 
 could not be brought to delight in these cruelties. 
 They were silent. Nay, many shed tears of com- 
 passion over the victims of Caesar and his cowardly 
 judges. 
 
64 5Legen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 It was some time before the news of the fire 
 of Rome and the punishments inflicted on the 
 Christians reached the far-off countries where Peter 
 and Paul were preaching. It was heartrending 
 news to the Apostles, but nevertheless a message of 
 victory, for most of the victims had suffered death 
 with constancy, and, like their Master, sincerely 
 prayed to God for their tormentors. When the 
 Apostles heard it, they were sensible of angel voices 
 that said : ' Up to Rome ! there the crown of glory 
 is waiting for you.' 
 
 They went, and met near one of the city gates. 
 There they greeted each other with the fraternal 
 kiss, and read in each other's faces the conviction 
 that they went for the last time to witness for the 
 Lord with their blood. 
 
 Nero was one day giving a feast in his Imperial 
 Circus on the Vatican Hill. The course was 
 adorned all round with statues, and in the middle 
 stood the great obelisk which was fetched from 
 the Egyptian town of Heliopolis, and now stands 
 in the stately square in front of St. Peter's. 
 
 Near the obelisk, in the shadow of a floating 
 silk curtain, the Emperor and his friends were 
 abundantly enjoying a noble wine. Nero sang, 
 laughed, and cracked jokes, for he was a wit, like 
 Caligula. Laughing and joking, he gave away 
 offices of Praetors, Senators, Consuls, and Governors. 
 
IFlero anb bts /iDistress 65 
 
 to the favourites about him. The Prsetors-in- 
 waiting, who knew the taste of the high carouse, 
 had let into the circus a multitude of the venal 
 beauties of Rome, who liked to be near the 
 Emperor to get a gracious glance from him. These 
 ladies were sitting fanning themselves in their 
 sedan-chairs, at a little distance from the imperial 
 circle. Nero and his guests amused themselves 
 with throwing to them all the silver and gold on 
 the tables, and when the tables were pillaged they 
 took off their rings, bracelets, and diadems, and 
 flung them in the same direction. 
 
 ' Virtue for ever ! Down with vice !' cried Nero. 
 
 ' Oh, you worthy disciple of Seneca !' laughed 
 his boon companions. 
 
 ' Virtue for ever !' cried Nero ; ' but I know 
 no virtue but sincerity, which is only a stupidly 
 arrogant name for insolence. Down with vice ! 
 but I know no vice but hypocrisy, and every 
 virtue but the one I mentioned is hypocrisy.' 
 
 ' Great philosopher !' cried the guests, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 But suddenly the Emperor became silent, and 
 his glances fell on a girl who stood among the 
 other female spectators. But she did not belong 
 to their class, as she had a plain dress, and her 
 features still bore witness of the innocence of a 
 child. Her large black eyes looked with astonish- 
 ment at those around her. 
 
 5 
 
66 Xegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 ' How beautiful she is !' cried Nero ; ' she is a 
 dryad from the woods of Ida. Girl, come here.' 
 
 The Emperor summoned her to him. She 
 came. 
 
 ' What do you want, Csesar ?' asked she. 
 
 ' Child, what is your name ?' 
 
 ' My name is Picerna.' 
 
 ' Who is your father ?' 
 
 ' My father is a soldier, a centurion. But will 
 you now answer a question ?' 
 
 ' A thousand from your lips.' 
 
 ' Are you right, Caesar, or is my father ?' 
 
 ' About what do I and your father disagree ?' 
 
 ' You say that there is only one virtue — sincerity. 
 My father has spoken to me of several virtues, 
 and among them patriotism, fidelity to the colours, 
 and the oath the soldiers have sworn to Csesar, 
 the warrior's courage to die on his shield. Do 
 you think that these virtues also are vices ; then 
 say so openly to those who now suffer pains and 
 death for you !' 
 
 Nero became pale, and said nothing. He saw 
 that the girl's eyes expressed pity for the autocrat 
 of the world, and he was ready to fall down in the 
 dust for her. 
 
 Picerna turned round and went away. When 
 she came to her lonely, poor home, she burst 
 into tears. The poor girl had received a wound 
 in her heart. She had read the surprise of shame 
 
uaero an& bis /llMstress 67 
 
 in the Emperor's still beautiful features, and that 
 unexpected discovery had overpowered her ; she 
 felt that she loved the tyrant. 
 
 Picerna's story is a sad one. Let us then relate 
 it in a few words. It is evident that she and 
 Nero would meet again. The Emperor required 
 it, and her own heart wished for it tremblingly. 
 It is also clear on which side the victory would 
 remain. The young girl dreamt of the possibility 
 of improving a Nero — vain dream ! 
 
 But one day Picerna's father returned from a 
 glorious campaign — glorious because there still 
 were in the Roman army veterans like him, moral 
 sons of the old Republic, who had the Republican 
 ideas that honour is the ornament of man, chastity 
 that of woman. His faithful wife was dead ; his 
 three sons had all fallen on the battlefield ; now 
 he had only his daughter to comfort him in his 
 old age. 
 
 He had hardly entered Rome with his legion 
 when people said to him : 
 
 ' You are a fortunate man ! The greatest honour 
 awaits you, for Picerna has become a favourite with 
 the Emperor.' 
 
 He turned giddy when he heard these words, 
 and said, when he saw Picerna : 
 
 ' Daughter, take a burden from your father's 
 heart. You know the rumour that is spread 
 
 5—2 
 
68 Xegenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 abroad. Say that it is a lie, and I will cry with 
 joy and bless you !' 
 
 ' Father,' said Picerna, and fell at his feet, ' your 
 daughter is guilty ; forgive her.' 
 
 ' I forgive you, but cannot survive it,' said the 
 old soldier. ' Woe is me that a family whose men 
 have all been brave, and whose women chaste, 
 should end in such a way !' 
 
 And he disengaged himself from his weeping 
 daughter, forbade her to follow him, and walked 
 out. The same evening he was found with a 
 sword in his breast, at a little distance off the 
 road to Ardea, on his wife's tomb. 
 
 When Picerna had seen him dead, she wandered 
 the whole night, like one insane, in the streets of 
 Rome. After wandering a long time in an aim- 
 less way, she stopped at the door of an unknown 
 house. From within was heard the voice of some^ 
 one reading, and she distinguished the following 
 words : ' Our Lord Christ says : Come unto Me, 
 all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
 give you rest. For My yoke is easyj' and My 
 burden is light.' '.j . • ■ 
 
 Picerna heard the words, but- they were' lost in 
 her bewildered brain. She walked on.', It was 
 dawning, and chance again led'-her to the same 
 door. She again heard the same voite. saying.; 
 'The Lord Jesus Christ heals- -sick hearts. He 
 raises the fallen and forgives-sins.'i'' J' ' /i-'ii 
 
IRero an5 bis distress 69 
 
 Now, the street was filled with the clash of arms 
 and the tramp of hoofs. Nero, who was returning 
 from an excursion in the Alban Mount, passed 
 by with a brilliant suite. He saw Picerna, pulled 
 in his horse, stretched out his arm and said : 
 
 ' My beloved !' 
 
 At the same moment the door of the unknown 
 house opened too, and Paul was standing on its 
 threshold. 
 
 The girl looked at him, and looked at Nero. 
 She seemed to hesitate, till she suddenly addressed 
 herself to the Jewish stranger, and said : 
 
 ' Is it you who know Him that heals sick hearts, 
 raises the fallen, and forgives sins ?' 
 
 ' It is I.' 
 
 ' Then in mercy save me !' and the girl embraced 
 the Apostle's knees. 
 
 ' Picerna,' said the Emperor, ' what is this ? 
 Do you not hear me ?' 
 
 ' Save me !' cried the girl, and hid her face in 
 the Apostle's mantle. 
 
 'Csesar,' said Paul, with commanding voice, 
 ' this child is ill. Do not put yourself between 
 her and the Physician.' And the Apostle bent 
 over the poor girl and whispered : ' Jesus Christ 
 shall restore your soul's peace.' 
 
VI. 
 ■ LORD, WHERE ART THOU GOING?' 
 
VI. 
 
 ' LORD, WHERE ART THOU GOING ?' 
 
 SOME days after the above-mentioned scene, 
 armed officers of justice entered the dwellings 
 of Peter and Paul, overwhelmed the Apostles with 
 blows, and dragged them to the Mamertine prison. 
 
 In Rome there were many rumours about the 
 horrors of this prison, and those who knew some- 
 thing about it did not refute them. 
 
 The Mamertine prison or Tullianum, as it is also 
 called, is still to be found at the foot of the 
 Capitol, near the Forum. ' The Road of Sighs ' 
 which led there, went by steps a little way up the 
 precipice to an iron gate, which, when once it was 
 shut behind a prisoner, was seldom opened to him 
 until he was conveyed to the place of execution, 
 unless he had been strangled or died of hunger in 
 the gaol. 
 
 Through this gate the Apostles were conveyed 
 into a room, round the cold stucco walls of which 
 were stone benches and modest frescoes, painted by 
 
74 tlLegenbs of tbe Bpostles 
 
 some artisan who probably had not thought of the 
 contrast between the funny subjects of his paintings 
 and the place and its unfortunate guests. In the 
 middle of the floor was a square hole through which 
 the prisoners were let down on a ladder into a dark 
 and damp vault, the real Mamertine gaol, supposed 
 to be built about 700 B.C. Here they saw in the floor 
 a similar hole, which gaped over the horrible Tul- 
 lianum, a narrow, low vault, 'fearful,' says the 
 historian Sallust, ' through dirt, darkness and 
 stench.' Among those who have drawn their last 
 breath in this cavern, the annals of Rome mention 
 the African King Jugurtha and Catiline's fellow- 
 conspirators, Lentulus and Cethegus. 
 
 The Apostles had to live nine long months in 
 this cavern while waiting for the sentence of death. 
 They were not alone. More than forty other un- 
 fortunate persons shared their fate. Among them 
 were many great criminals, but also many innocent 
 people, victims of Nero's suspicions, or the hatred 
 of his favourites. 
 
 The Apostles found inexpressible misery around 
 them. The prisoners who were fastened to the 
 walls and pillars filled the darkness with sighs, 
 wailings and curses. Others, who indulged in mute 
 despair, brooded over agonies none the less cruel. 
 
 But, what no one outside these walls could sus- 
 pect, the horrors within turned by degrees into 
 patience, tranquillity, joy, jubilation. 
 
' %ov^, wbere art Ubou (Boing V 75 
 
 The Apostles had spoken powerful words to 
 their fellow-prisoners, taught them the ways of 
 God, entreated them to join in their prayers ; and 
 prayer by degrees dispersed the darkness in their 
 souls. Every day more and more joined in the 
 submissive words : ' Thy will be done in Earth, as it 
 is in Heaven,' and in the hopeful ' Turn Thy face to 
 us and have mercy upon us ' . . . and at last there 
 was no one that did not feel free in his fetters 
 when he raised his voice to honour the God of 
 freedom. 
 
 The gaolers. Processus and Martinianus, heard 
 with astonishment that from that infected cavern 
 rose joyful psalms about Christ who had conquered 
 death. They fetched up Peter and Paul and 
 scourged them to punish them for having changed 
 the worst of all prisons into a home of peace 
 and hope. One of the executioners knocked 
 Peter's head violently against the stone wall, and 
 marks of a human face are still to be seen in the 
 wall. But it was not long before Processus and 
 Martinianus too joined in the prisoners' psalms. 
 From the floor in the Tullianum, near the pillar 
 to which Paul and Peter were fastened, a fresh 
 fountain sprang up, in which they baptized their 
 gaolers and fellow-prisoners. 
 
 The Mamertine gaol — from which a subter- 
 ranean passage has lately been discovered, leading 
 
76 Xegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 under the Forum of Trajan — is generally known 
 by the name of ' S. Pietro in carcere.' If we walk 
 from the Forum past the triumphal arch of Septi- 
 mius Servseus, we have to the left, near the end of 
 Strata Marforio, a chapel, over the door of which is 
 painted a lattice-window, and behind it the two 
 Apostles with their usual symbols — Peter with the 
 key, Paul with the sword. The little chapel is at 
 the same time the crypt to a church, S. Giuseppe 
 di Falegnani, which lies on the slope of the 
 Capitolene rock. I often went that way, and 
 never without seeing some women kneeling in the 
 entrance-hall of the chapel. An iron gate separates 
 the entrance-hall from the interior, where on one 
 single occasion I found the darkness dispersed by 
 the light of some tapers that burnt on the altar, near 
 which a silent mass was then being said. This is 
 the upper vault, the Mamertine gaol. From the 
 entrance-hall a flight of steps leads down to the 
 lower vault, the Tullianum. Near the stairs is a 
 Latin inscription of the time of the Emperor 
 Augustus. The vaults are built of great Travertine 
 blocks without mortar, and the manner in which 
 the Tullianum is constructed bears witness of a 
 very great age. Antiquaries believe the Tullianum 
 to have been a waterhouse belonging to the oldest 
 fortifications of Rome, and intended to give fresh 
 drinking-water to the Capitol. Then the fountain 
 below must have been much older than the time 
 
* Xot&^ wbere art xrbou ©oing ?' 77 
 
 of the Apostles. But here we have to do with the 
 pioiis Legend of the Church, not with the re- 
 searches of scientific men. Once a year, after mid- 
 summer, when the gireat eight days' feast in honour 
 of Peter and Paul is celebrated in the principal 
 dhurehes of Rome, glorious song sounds out from 
 the aileient prison, too. - A mass is performed by 
 thS Papal choir in the presence of numerous pre- 
 lates in holiday attire, ' and to the faithful is given 
 \?ater to "drink from the holy fountain in the 
 Tuirianum vault. ' ' 
 
 t Peter, the man with the firm belief, had 
 mbirients, ■ as we know, when his moral courage 
 totally failed him. In the presence of Jewish 
 frieiids it happened that'he Wafe ashamed of sitting 
 at table with Greek brethren ; nay ! he disowned 
 his Lord and Master When he was surrounded by 
 people to whom the SaVioUr was a tebel and His 
 doctrines were folly. A thousand act' like him and 
 disavow their ideals 'for fear or favour of man ; but 
 how many are there who, like the Apostle, bitterly 
 Tfe'eep over their weakness,'and in the tears of repent- 
 ance' find strength to battte and stlfifer for their con- 
 vidtlon?- ••'"'■ -"'■ ' '' '' " '' ■■ ■ ' 
 
 ' After nine moriths the seHtetiee Was pronounced. 
 Paul-ahd Peter were sentign'Ced to death; as chiefs 
 of the 'alleged incendiary sect ; Paul to be put to 
 death by the sword, for' he 'was a Roman citizen 
 
78 3Legen&B of tbe apostles 
 
 and therefore exempt from a shameful death ; 
 Peter, on the contrary, to undergo crucifixion — 
 disgraceful in the eyes of the Romans, but glorious 
 in those of the Christians, because the Lord had 
 died in this way. 
 
 The night before the day when the ofificers of 
 justice who had to bring the sentence were ex- 
 pected, Peter lay awake, fretting, and leaning his 
 fevered forehead against the pillar to which he was 
 fastened. Paul, who had slept a little while, was 
 awake, and held his friend's hand in his. Sud- 
 denly the gaolers. Processus and Martinianus, 
 stood before them, unfastened their fetters, and 
 said : ' Flee ! The doors are open. To-morrow 
 it will be too late ! Your lives are too precious to 
 us and all the brethren — the tyrant must not take 
 them. The angel of the Lord has before delivered 
 you from fetters and prisons. In the name of the 
 Lord now, too, you are free !' 
 
 When Peter heard this he rose. ' Flee !' they 
 said to him ; ' Flee !' cried, at that moment, his 
 own trembling heart. The agony of death made 
 him bewildered . . . and when he had recovered 
 his senses, he was in a solitary street, far off from 
 the prison, with a cloudy sky over him from which 
 the rain poured down, while the voices of the 
 storm seemed to repeat the words, ' Flee ! flee !' 
 
 ' Brother Paul !' cried Peter, in a subdued voice. 
 But no one answered. Paul was not with him. 
 
'3Lor&, wbere art XTbou (Boingf 79 
 
 Had he remained in the prison and renounced the 
 offered freedom, or had he fled in another direc- 
 tion ? Peter did not know, and his fevered brain 
 and throbbing heart rendered him unable to think. 
 Driven by self-preservation, and without being 
 restrained by his wounds, he rushed across the 
 Forum and Velia into the hollow between the 
 Palatine and the Coelian Hill. Now he had before 
 him a street which led to the Porta Capena and 
 the Appian Way. A few minutes more and he 
 would have the city wall behind him. The storm, 
 the rain, and the darkness favoured his escape. 
 The streets were empty, and the guards seemed to 
 have left to the angry powers of Nature the duty of 
 protecting the sleeping town. 
 
 When at last Peter was outside the city wall, he 
 walked more slowly. The rain had ceased, the 
 driving clouds flocked together towards the east, 
 and from the clear part of the heavens a pale light 
 shone over the tombs on both sides of the Appian 
 Way. 
 
 He had gone about twelve minutes' walk from 
 the town when he thought he saw a light, which 
 moved across the road and approached slowly. 
 
 It neither resembled the light of a torch nor 
 that of a lantern. It had a lustre of its own, com- 
 parable to condensed starlight, or the brightness of 
 the Milky Way in the north, and formed a semi- 
 circle like the glory round a holy head. 
 
8o 3Legenbs of tbe apostles 
 
 Peter stopped in surprise. The nearer the glory 
 came the more it diminished in brightness, but 
 clearer and clearer appeared the outlines of a 
 human shape, that walked in the direction of the 
 town. The shape, which was dressed in a mantle, 
 walked on the opposite side of the road, and seemed 
 to pass by without perceiving Peter. But when it 
 had taken a few steps more it turned round. 
 
 Peter, who could not take his eyes off the figure, 
 recognised that gesture. So Jesus had turned 
 round and looked at him the night when, for the 
 third time, he denied his Lord and Master. 
 
 The Apostle hastened forward. His eyes were 
 opened ; he saw before him his Master and 
 Saviour, as he had seen Him when they were wan- 
 dering together in Judea and Galilee. He recog- 
 nised the same sad and mildly reproaching 
 expression, the same eyes shining with heavenly 
 goodness, which, after the third denial, were 
 riveted into his soul. Inexpressible feelings 
 stormed over him. He seized the mantle of Jesus 
 and cried : 
 
 ' Lord, where art Thou going ?' {Domine, quo 
 vadis ?). 
 
 Jesus answered : ' I am going to Rome to be 
 crucified once more.' 
 
 Then Peter fell at his feet : 
 
 ' Lord,' said he, ' forgive me. Thou knowest 
 my weakness. This night I have denied Thee 
 
'Xor6, wbere art XCbou ©oing?' 8i 
 
 again. Put Thy hand on my head, and allow me 
 to weep at Thy feet. Then the agony of death 
 which overpowered me will vanish, and I will show 
 myself worthy of the crown Thou wilt graciously 
 give me . . .' 
 
 And Peter wept heartily by his best friend, and 
 felt His hand reposing on his head, in consolation 
 and blessing. 
 
 When the Apostle rose, calmed and strengthened, 
 Jesus was no longer visible. The storm was roar- 
 ing again, and drove black clouds from the sea 
 towards the Tiber. The rain was again pouring 
 down, but the Apostle felt that the Lord was near 
 him, though invisible, and this comfortable feeling 
 left him no more. 
 
 Peter returned to the town and the Mamertine 
 prison. He knocked at its iron gate till the gaolers 
 opened, and said to them : ' Friends, give me back 
 my fetters. It does not become me to flee from 
 the crown of victory.' 
 
 When morning came, he was calmly sleeping in 
 his old fetters among his fellow-prisoners. 
 
 Domine quo vadis ? ' Lord, where art Thou 
 going?' So the place is still called where the 
 legend has laid this event. Opposite Priscilla's 
 tomb, near the Appian Way, is a little round 
 chapel over the altar of which is a bas-relief repre- 
 senting the meeting between the Saviour and Peter. 
 
 6 
 
82 Xegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 At a distance of some yards is a church called 
 Maria delle Piante, where are preserved in marble 
 the footprints of Jesus, said to have been left on 
 the stone in the Appian Way while the Apostle 
 was kneeling before Him. 
 
VII. 
 THE DEATH OF THE APOSTLES. 
 
 6—2 
 
VII. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE APOSTLES. 
 
 THERE are few foreigners in Rome who have 
 not wandered to the Church of S. Paolo 
 fuori le mura. Everyone knows that St. Peter's at 
 Rome is the largest Christian temple, and St. 
 Paul's the most magnificent. If we do not imme- 
 diately realize the enormous size of the former, we 
 are captivated at the first glance by the solemn 
 splendour of the latter. From the dusty and hot 
 Via Ostiensis we are transported as by witchcraft 
 into a garden of architecture, where we see a grove 
 of slender granite pillars, and a vault glittering with 
 gold and mosaic, where daylight enters through the 
 painted glass of the windows. 
 
 Under the high altar is the tomb of the Apostle 
 Paul, and the road which leads past this church is 
 the way he went to receive the martyr-crown. 
 
 Leaving the half-decayed old Roman tower of 
 S. Paolo and the beautiful group which the Mauso- 
 leum of Cestius and the city walls form with the 
 
86 OLeQen&s of tbe apostles 
 
 rock-pines, cypresses, and marble tombs of the 
 Protestant cemetery, we arrive, after half an hour's 
 walk, at the Farewell Chapel. Hardly mentioned 
 in the guide-books, it seldom attracts the attention 
 of the passers-by. But a pedestrian who has plenty 
 of time, and is not the slave of guide-books, will 
 certainly stop before this lonely building if, like the 
 author of these lines, he happens on arriving to see 
 the sun forcing its way through a cloud and spreading 
 a magical glow over the only exterior ornament of 
 the chapel. This ornament is an image represent- 
 ing the Apostles Peter and Paul falling into each 
 other's arms. The sunbeams that fell upon them 
 while the wall reflected a subdued and dusky light, 
 seemed to stream out from their faces. An inscrip- 
 tion explains the meaning of the image, and points 
 out what place the Farewell Chapel occupies in the 
 legends that surround the memory of the Apostles. 
 The inscription runs as follows : 
 
 'In this place St. Peter and St. Paul parted company 
 when they went to suffer martyrdom, and Paul said to 
 Peter : 
 
 ' " Peace be upon thee, founder of the Church and shep- 
 herd of all the lambs of Christ. " 
 
 ' And Peter said to Paul : 
 
 ' " Go in peace, proclaimer of the Gospel and a guide to 
 salvation for the righteous. " ' 
 
 The legend says that when Peter and Paul were 
 conducted from the Mamertine prison to be put 
 to death — Paul on the place of execution outside 
 
XCbe 2)eatb of tbe Hpostles 87 
 
 the Ostia Gate, Peter on Janiculum — Peter begged 
 to be allowed to accompany his friend part of the 
 way, and this was granted him by the chief of the 
 guard. And they walked, side by side, hand in 
 hand, consoling and comforting each other till 
 they came half-way between the city gate and the 
 field where St. Paul's Church is, or the point where 
 the Farewell Chapel stands. There they gave each 
 other the above-mentioned greeting of peace, and 
 parted after a tender embrace. 
 
 A few steps from the Farewell Chapel stood a 
 weeping woman. Some say that she was Lemobia, 
 others Plautilla, a matron of the Imperial Flavian 
 family, and mother of Flavia Domitilla, the 
 martyr. 
 
 Paul, who recognised a beloved disciple, stopped, 
 and said : 
 
 ' Sister, rejoice in the belief that death does not 
 separate us ! Give me your veil, and I will furnish 
 you with a testimony to that beUef !' 
 
 The woman handed him the veil, which Paul 
 bound round his eyes on the place of execution 
 before he fell upon his knees and received the 
 death-blow. Some days afterwards Paul is said to 
 have appeared to his sister in the faith and given 
 her back the blood-stained veil. 
 
 After a walk of a quarter of an hour more, the 
 procession passed the field where the splendid 
 church now stands in honour of the poor and 
 
88 Xegenbs of tbe Hpostles 
 
 devoted Apostle of the Gentiles. Afterwards the 
 way led over hills and past a villa belonging to 
 Salvius Otho (Nero's successor on the throne), and 
 at last to the fenced-in place of execution. 
 
 The calm joy with which Paul spoke to the 
 guard, and the happiness that shone in his face, 
 touched many of the soldiers. And when the 
 sword fell, and the next moment three fountains 
 sprang up from the bloodstained grass plot, some 
 soldiers fell upon their knees, and cried : 
 
 ' He was certainly a righteous man, for God 
 Himself has testified to the truth of his words.' 
 
 Three of them, Longinus, Alcestes, and Me- 
 gistus, stretched out their hands, and said : 
 
 ' Put us in irons, too, and deliver us to the judge 
 and death ; for we are guilty of the same offence 
 as Paul of Tarsus, as we believe in one God, our 
 Creator and Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ !' 
 
 Two days afterwards they suffered martyrdom in 
 the same place. 
 
 There is now the Trappist Monastery, Abbadia 
 delle tre Fontane, with its three churches. In one 
 of them, S. Paolo alle tre Fontane, are shown the 
 above-mentioned fountains, and a pillar to which 
 Paul is said to have been bound when he received 
 the martyr-crown. 
 
 Peter was executed on the same day as Paul. 
 Having bid the latter farewell, he was conducted 
 
Ube 2)eatb of tbe Hpostles 89 
 
 back to the town and over the Sublician Bridge 
 through the Trans-Iberian quarter up Janiculum, 
 on the summit of which the cross was ready for 
 him. 
 
 Peter asked to be crucified with his head down- 
 wards, because he did not feel worthy of dying in 
 the same posture as his Lord and Master. The 
 executioners complied with his request. Then a 
 miracle took place here, too. Angels were seen 
 flying down from Heaven to surround the suffering 
 martyr. They wiped the sweat of agony from his 
 forehead, whispered consolation in his ears, and 
 did not leave the cross until the released spirit of 
 the Apostle followed them to eternal happiness. 
 
 In the wall of S. Maria in Trastevere is a marble 
 slab, supposed to have lain at Peter's cross, in 
 which are marks like footprints. The vestry-keeper 
 of the church repeats the old tradition that these 
 marks are the footprints of the angels who sur- 
 rounded the dying Peter. 
 
 The road up the Roman Calvary on Janiculum 
 is nowadays one of the liveliest in Rome. Long 
 rows of carriages with Romans or Englishmen and 
 Americans are in the fine season rolling up Via di 
 Garibaldi — in all larger Italian towns the principal 
 streets or squares are now named after the hero of 
 the young Italy — but the views from the hill are 
 never to be forgotten : the beautiful valley of the 
 
90 Xegen&s of tbe Hpostles 
 
 Tiber, and the remarkable Church of S. Pietro in 
 Montorio, the cascades of Acqua Paolo, rushing 
 forth between antique pillars, Porta Pancrazia and 
 Belvedere, Villa Doria Pamfih, with one of the 
 stateliest parks and the prettiest gardens in the 
 whole of Italy. 
 
 In the middle of the monastery grounds near the 
 Church of Pietro in Montorio is a little circular 
 temple constructed by Bramante, and considered 
 one of the purest works of the Italian Renaissance. 
 In the temple is an altar with a statue of St. Peter, 
 and down below a crypt, where a friar, by the light 
 of an ever-burning lamp, exhibits the hole in the 
 ground where Peter's cross is supposed to have 
 stood, and wiUingly gives the stranger some grains 
 of sand in memory of the place. The hole forms 
 the centre of the ring of Dorian pillars by which 
 Bjamante has enclosed the holy room. 
 
 After the death of the Apostles the Christians 
 who were from the East met and agreed that, as 
 Peter and Paul had been their countrymen, the 
 East had the best right to their remains. They 
 therefore took the bodies of the martyrs, put them 
 into stone coffins, and carried them away. But 
 Gregory the Great tells us that when they arrived 
 at the second milestone on the Appian Way, there 
 rose a violent storm. A roaring wind blew towards 
 the town ; darkness fell over the valley of the 
 
TLbc Deatb of tbc apostles 91 
 
 Tiber. It thundered and lightened on both 
 sides of the way, as if cherubs had crossed their 
 flashing swords to stop the journey, and prevent 
 the East from appropriating treasures that only the 
 capital of the world and the centre of historical 
 interest was worthy of preserving. For a new 
 Rome was one day to appear as the work of Peter 
 and Paul; and it was written in the book of the 
 Future that the Apostles were to conquer the 
 Csesars. As a sign of that victory, the bronze 
 statue of Peter has been standing for centuries 
 upon the triumphal column of the Emperor Trajan, 
 and Paul's upon that of the Emperor Marcus 
 Aurelius ; and while the mausoleums of the Csesars 
 are lying in ruins or, like that of Hadrian, are 
 stripped of their splendour and serve other pur- 
 poses, St. Peter's and St. Paul's are towering 
 towards Heaven like gigantic monuments over the 
 ashes of the fisherman and the tent weaver. 
 
 We here bring these legends to a conclusion. 
 It is unnecessary to remind Protestant readers that 
 Legend and Fact are not quite the same, and that 
 there is a great difference between what we know 
 about the Apostles, through their own letters in the 
 New Testament, and what we read in old traditions 
 of the Church. But it is difficult, even in our 
 critical age, totally to separate history from fiction. 
 In those days people did not even try. To 
 
92 OLegen&B of tbe Hpostles 
 
 walk where they walked whom we have learnt to 
 love and respect, to breathe the same air and see 
 the same views as they, but know next to nothing 
 about their last days — how could generations of the 
 faithful do so without trying to fill up the blank by 
 perceptible images, when they were convinced that 
 the heavenly glory which surrounded the known 
 part of the saints' lives followed them to the tomb 
 and beyond ? Thus many of these legends have 
 sprung up from an invisible germ in the pious 
 imagination, and in the course of time developed 
 into a Legend of the Church. Others have origi- 
 nated in another way. Let us cite a single example 
 of it. 
 
 There is an old book, the Homilies of Clement, 
 claiming to be written by Bishop Clement in the 
 age following that of the Apostles. The unknown 
 author belonged to the Judaizing section of the 
 Church, whose teaching contradicted Paul's higher 
 conception of Christianity, and made Peter his 
 pleader against the Apostle of the Gentiles. Yet 
 the author dares not attack Paul openly, but intro- 
 duces Simon Magus, the sorcerer and impostor, 
 and to a certain degree puts Paul's doctrines into 
 his mouth, and makes Peter rebuke him with the 
 following words : 
 
 ' Why should Christ stay a whole year among 
 His disciples and be obliged to instruct them if 
 one can be made a teacher merely by a vision ? 
 
Ube Deatb of tbe Hpostles 93 
 
 Yet, if you have received instruction and the call- 
 ing of an Apostle by a momentary vision, preach 
 the words of Christ, love His Apostles, and do not 
 contradict me, who have been with Him so long.' 
 
 This author has spread through a large circle of 
 readers the tale that Simon Magus came to Rome, 
 disputed with the Apostles, and made an unsucces- 
 ful Ascension. Though not one of the historians 
 of Imperial Rome, who so indulged in anecdotes 
 and omens, says anything about Simon Magus, his 
 relations with Nero, or his miracles in Rome, the 
 tale was widely credited ; and Justin Martyr tries 
 to support it by the assurance that he himself, on a 
 visit to Rome, saw on the Island in the Tiber a 
 statue erected to the Magician, with the inscription, 
 'Simoni Sancto' (To the holy Simon). But on this 
 Island there stood, both in the days of the Republic 
 and in the time of the Emperors, a temple conse- 
 crated to the Sabine God, Semo Sancus, and a 
 statue with the inscription, Semoni Sanco (to Semo 
 Sancus) . The truthful and revered Justin saw this 
 statue, and that he, an Oriental stranger, should 
 misunderstand the inscription is excusable. 
 
 But these legends may not be quite void of 
 historical facts. Something of what is told about 
 Paul may be reality, and it is not improbable that 
 he suffered martyrdom in the manner and the place 
 mentioned in the legend. But in this case reality 
 and fiction are so linked together that the whole 
 
94 %CQcn'Q3 Of tbe Hpostles 
 
 resembles the chain which on solemn occasions is 
 shown in the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, and of 
 which the following story is told in Rome : 
 
 The Bishop Julian of Jerusalem presented the 
 Empress Eudocia with the chain which Peter had 
 worn when a prisoner in that city. The Empress 
 sent the gift to Rome. The Bishop there wished 
 to compare the Jerusalem chain with that which 
 Peter had worn in the Mamertine prison, and when 
 he put the one to the other, their links immediately 
 grew together, so that they formed one single chain, 
 in which it is impossible to see where the one ends 
 and the other begins. 
 
 But do not these legends contain many beauti- 
 ful and touching passages ? Perhaps, then, some 
 readers have followed them with a little of the 
 friendly feeling with which the author heard them 
 and wrote them down. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Elliot stock, 62, Paternoster Row, London. 
 
Xegen&s of tbe apostles.