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MANNERS AND TRrAJj^-: 
 
 THE 
 
 OF THK 
 
 PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS. 
 
 THE REV. ROBERT JAMIESON, 
 
 MINISTER OF CURRIE. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 JOHN JOHNSTONE, HUNTER SQUARE. 
 
 MDCCCXLI. 
 
ENTERED IN STATIONERS' HALT.. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTEU BY JOHN JOHNSTONIi, HICll SIHKET. 
 
PRE 
 
 .RECJUN Ibbi 
 
 The Author of the following Volume was led, several 
 years ago, to direct his attention to the Christians of 
 the three first centuries, under the impression, that 
 if ever pure and genuine Christianity existed to any 
 great extent among men, it woidd be found exempli- 
 fied in the character and state of those who were 
 contemporaries of the Apostles, or lived in the age 
 immediately succeeding. The interest of the study 
 increased as he advanced ; and he felt, that while 
 there was a great deal to admire, and some things also 
 to condemn, these inquiries into the habits and state 
 of the primitive believers, formed altogether one of 
 the most dehghtful and improving pursuits in which 
 he had ever engaged. It early occurred to him, that 
 this was a part of the history of the Church with 
 which the Christian public of the present day were 
 not so well acquainted as it Avas desirable they should 
 be ; and that, as the knowledge of it was for the most 
 part either locked up in the secrets of dead languages, 
 or scattered over voluminous works, where it was 
 mixed up with the dry and uninviting details of theo- 
 logical controversy, it might be a useful undertaking 
 to embody, in an accessible form, all that was necessary 
 
6 PREFACE. 
 
 to give a popular view of the history of the primitive 
 Christians. Accordingly, he imposed this task on 
 himself, and on surveying the field of illustration 
 before him, the subject appeared naturally to divide 
 itself into two branches — the first descriptive of the 
 private, domestic, and social manners of the primitive 
 Christians — embracing every thing necessary to exhibit 
 a picture of their every-day life ; and the second, of 
 those extraordinary trials which, for three hundred 
 years, formed the portion of all who lived godly in 
 Christ Jesus. This is the order he has followed in 
 the arrangement of the Work, and he flatters himself, 
 that while he has been studious of brevity and con- 
 densation, his Volume will be found to contain every 
 particular necessary to afford a full and accurate view 
 of the Christians of the primitive age. 
 
 The Author has freely gleaned his materials from 
 every quarter ; but it is due to himself to say, that 
 while he has availed himself of the labours of modern 
 writers, and frequently quoted from them, he has, 
 with minute and patient industry, tested almost every 
 statement contained in his book with the original 
 authorities, — the historians and apologists of the three 
 first centuries. 
 
 CuRRiE Manse, 
 13/A November 1839. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 INTRODUCTION. 13 
 
 MANNERS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 Christians lived generally like other men — Peculiarities from their 
 vicinity to Heathens — Dress — Furniture— Pagan ornaments made 
 Christian Symbols — Diet— Story of Alcibiades— Reading Scriptures, 
 and singing, during meals— Prayer the grand principle of their life 
 — Fasts — Story of Fructuosus — Instances of extraordinary know- 
 ledge of Scriptures — Great care of Religious Education of the 
 Young — School- Books — Use of the sign of the Cross very com- 
 mon — Story of Origen — Sacrifices of Diocletian — Amusements — 
 Condemned dice — Ornamenting outside of houses — Very silent, - 27 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRIVATE MANNERS CONTINUED. 
 
 Particular employments abjured— Idol-making— Astrology and Magic 
 ~ Actors— Case of a Teacher of acting— Story of a person being seized 
 with mortal sickness in the Theatre— Gladiators— Story of Alypius 
 — Civil and Military Officers— Story of Marcellus— Provision for 
 such as were obliged to abandon their Trade— Espousals— Mar- 
 riage. 57 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 Mutual love and concord of the Primitive Christians — Care of the 
 Poor — Contributions by Foreign Churches — Story of Numidian 
 Captives— Care of the Sick — Female Visitors— Parabolani— Con- 
 trast between the benevolence of Christians and the selfishness of 
 Heathens — Story of the Plague in Carthage— And in Alexandria — 
 Story of Pauhnus — Care of Christian Prisoners — Story of Pere- 
 grinus — Christians in the Mines— Care of the spiritual interests of 
 men — Various manifestations of Christian benevolence — Means of 
 supporting it — Story of a person bequeathing money to the Poor — 
 Love-feasts — Hospitality — Salutations— Oaths— Story — Patience in 
 bearing injuries — Loyalty — Tribute to the social virtues of the 
 Primitive Christians by two Heathen Emperors, - - - 75 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 Places for Public Worship— Upper rooms— Heathen Temples con- 
 verted into Churches — And how — Area — Fountain — Porch — Dif- 
 ferent classes of Worshippers sat apart — Places for reading the 
 Scriptures— Texts on walls— Historical Pictures— Vigils— Morning 
 and Evening Service— Lord's Day kept as a Festival— Routine of 
 Service, - -.._>..--- 104 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP 
 
 CONTINUED. 
 
 Page 
 Communion celebrated every Lord's Day, afterwards daily— Free- 
 will Offerings— Manner of celebration— Sent to the absent— Given 
 to Infants— Celebrated in private houses every morning, or with 
 Strangers— Classes of Catechumens— Mysteries— Baptism adminis- 
 tered at first in any place— Afterwards in Church— Generally by 
 immersion— Clinick Baptism— Deferred often till death— Reason 
 of this— Horror felt from wanting it during a storm— Story of Nazi- 
 anzen— Importance attached to the person by whom, and the place 
 in which, it was dispensed— Annual Seasons for Baptizing— Cere- 
 monies attending it— Anecdote of an African Slave— Public Con- 
 fession of Faith— White Gannents— Change of name, . - - 122 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 Severity of Discipline — Tenderness and Sorrow for the Offender — 
 Tremendous effects of Excommunication — Humiliating Postures 
 at the Gate of the Church— Duration of Banishment from the 
 Church— Solemn manner of restoring Offenders — The reason of so 
 severe and protracted Discipline — Impartiahty of it — Story of 
 Theodosius, -- - - ------147 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 Death of Christians called their Birth— Indifference and Barbarity 
 of Heathens— Burial first introduced by the Christians— Importance 
 attached to it— Motives that led to a religious attention to the Dead 
 — Zeal in giving Burial to Martyrs whose bodies were rescued — 
 Bought— Carried to distant Sepulchres— Description of the Funeral 
 Obsequies of the Christians — Use of Perfumes — Watching the 
 Corpse— Funeral Procession— Service at the Grave — Anniversary 
 of Death of private Christians— And of Martyrs— Festivals— Ceme- 
 leries— Conclusion, - - - ...---J60 
 
1 CONTENTS, 
 
 TRIALS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Pagr 
 Introductory Remarks— Persecutions— By the Jews— The Greeks— 
 The Roman Emperors — Nero — Domitian — Trajan — Hadrian — 
 Marcus Aurelius — Septimius Severus and Caracalla, - - - 193 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Persecution by Maximinus of Thrace — By Decius — Court of Inqui- 
 sition — Safety sought by Flight, and Indulgence purchased by some 
 with Money — Letter of Dionysius— Martyrdom of Julian — Trial of 
 Dioscarus— Singular Fate of Numidicus — Woman forced to Sacri- 
 fice by her Husband — Severe sufferings by the Ministers— Cyprian 
 proscribed — His flight — Chceremon captured by the Saracens — Paul 
 — The first Hermit — Tragi-comic Fate of Dionysius — Unhappy 
 consequences of the Decian Persecution — Short but persecuting 
 reign of Gallus— Valerian— Influence of the Astrologer Macrianus 
 exerted against the Christians — Valerian banishes the Bishops — 
 Great activity and success in their exile— Labours of Cyprian and 
 Dionysius— Publication of new and severer Edict— Severities at 
 Rome— Martyrdom of Sextus in a Cemetery, and of Cyprian at 
 Carthage— Death of Valerian, and Tranquillity of the Church— Its 
 growing Numbers, but decline in Piety — Beginning of Diocletian's 
 Persecution — Auguries — Resignation of multitudes of Soldiers — 
 Marcellus — Savage disposition of Galerius— Heresies of the Mani- 
 chees— Entertainments of Romula — Churches demolished — Scrip- 
 tures burnt— Indiscreet zeal and severe punishment of a Christian 
 — Barbarities in the Palace— In Numidia— Rome — Antioch — Case 
 of Romanus — Searching for Scriptures — Concealment of them — 
 Readers — Fate of one in Numidia, and of Felix — Indiscretion of 
 some Christians — Cowardice of others— Barbarities of Maxirain — 
 Case of Apphian— Agapius fighting with a Bear— Milder edict of 
 Galerius— Artful policy of Maximin, -.---- 230 
 
CONTENTS. 1 1 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 P<tg€ 
 
 Number of Persecutions uncertain — Martyrdom of ApoUonius, a 
 Koman Senator— Trials from opposition of Thilosophy— Of Priests 
 — Symphorosa — Symphorianus — Popular outrages —Trials from 
 Relatives and Friends— Anecdotes, ------ 268 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Christians accused of introducing a New Religion — Mankind natur- 
 ally averse to what is new — Romans particularly jealous of any 
 Novelties in Religion — Christians accused of holding Illegal Assem- 
 blies — Of forming Conspiracies — These charges first arose from 
 their not partaking in public rejoicings, and from indiscretion of 
 some Christians— Anecdotes — Christians accused of being useless 
 members of society — Of being Atheists— Of being the occasion of 
 public calamities — Of gross immoralities and horrid crimes — Of being 
 poor ajid ignorant, - - - - - - 290 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Extreme anxiety of Magistrates and of Priests to ensnare Christians 
 into Idolatry — Different motives of each — Snares laid to induce 
 them to acknowledge the gods, to part with the Scriptures, or to 
 read them only at certain times, and on certain terms — To get them 
 to Sacrifice— Sprinkling goods in the market— Meats prepared not 
 by cooks, but priests — Evangelical liberty in eating meats offered 
 to idols — Courageous remonstrance to Julian — Polluting Fountains 
 —Bowing to Statues of gods and emperors — Swearing by the em- 
 peror's genius— Training Christians to box — Temptations to Licen- 
 tiousness, .--..- - 324 
 
1 2 CONTENTS. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Page 
 
 Various modes of punishment— Imprisonment — The Stocks — Origen 
 — The Horse — Mutilation — The Mines— Baths of Diocletian — Hard- 
 ships endured in the Mines — Brief respite — Many of the most emi- 
 nent Bishops and private Christians maimed in various ways — 
 Fighting with wild beasts— Clothed in skins of dogs, asses, &c. — 
 Fondness of the Romans for those combats — Ignatius, Agapius — 
 The Cross — The Apostle Andrew — Martyrs in Egypt — Crucifying 
 with head downwards — Throwing dead bodies into rivers — Leaving 
 them a prey to birds and ravenous beasts — Mingling the bones of 
 Christians with those of lower animals — Reducing them to ashes — 
 Various methods of doing this — Pitchy coats — Iron Chair — The 
 Wheel — Various other punishments — The Rack — Bithynian Gover- 
 nor — Martyrs— Confessors— Suicides — Criminals pretending to Xye 
 Christians— Estimate of the number of Martyrs, - - 340 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Notices of eminent Martyrs— Polycarp— Ptolemy and Lucius— Perse- 
 cution at Lyons— Biblias — Fructuosus— Perpetua and Felicitas— 
 Cyprian — Cyril — Sapricius and Nicephorus — Romanus — Euplius— 
 Maximus — Irenaeus— Philip — Martyrs of Csesarea— Felix, - 37T 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Sources of stedfastness in Martyrs— Story of a Phrygian apostate- 
 Love of Christ — Firm hope of immediate entrance into heaven — 
 Effects of the courage and Christian virtues of the Martyrs upon 
 many beholders — Informer against the Apostle James — Justin Martyr 
 — Besas, a soldier — Gesenius, an actor — Treatment of those who fell 
 — Certificates of Martyrs — Celerinus— Certificates disapproved of— 
 Great value attached to Martyrdom— Concluding Remarks, - 415 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 In the early history of the Christian Church, a story 
 is told of seven noble youths of Ephesus, who, when 
 a severe persecution broke on the Christians of that 
 city, fled from the scene of suffering, and took refuge 
 in a spacious cavern on the side of a neighbouring 
 mountain. They had not long established themselves 
 in that wild and lonely retreat, when they all simul- 
 taneously fell into a deep and death-like slumber ; 
 and they continued, as the legend runs, in that state 
 of torpor and insensibility for nearly two hundred 
 years, when they at length awoke, and perceiving 
 every where around the signs of tranquillity and 
 order, they ventured, M'ith timid and cautious steps, 
 to return to their native city. Wanderinof along its 
 streets and alleys, with which they were so familiar, 
 and which they fancied it was but yesterday they had 
 left, they were astonished to find them occupied by a 
 race totally different, in language, dress, and manners, 
 from what they had been accustomed to witness ; and 
 the farther they penetrated into the heart of it, the 
 more they felt themselves strangers in the dwelling- 
 place of their fathers, — as much so as if they had 
 alighted among the inhabitants of another world. But 
 nothing in the altered state of the town so greatly sur- 
 prised them as the spectacle of its public buildings. 
 On one of the entrance gates, which they remembered 
 had been surmounted by a statue of Diana, the tutelary 
 
 B 
 
14 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 goddess of the place, they heheld the emblem of a gild- 
 ed cross. Here — they passed edifices, rising in stately 
 grandeur, and rich in all the graces of architectural 
 ornament, Avhich bore to be dedicated to the honour 
 of Jesus, or were inscribed with the name of one or 
 other of his apostles ; and there — seminaries of edu- 
 cation were planted, in which were taught the elements 
 of that faith which, at the time of their flight, it had 
 been a capital crime to avow. The whole appearance 
 of the city conveyed the impression that some singular 
 revolution had taken place in the religious persuasion 
 of the people, and that the adherents of the Gospel, 
 whom they had left a despised and persecuted sect, 
 were living in the free and open enjoyment of their 
 principles and their worship. Longing to hear the 
 origin and extent of this happy turn of affairs, and 
 to gratify themselves with the company of persons 
 whose feelings and habits were akin to their own, 
 they made up to one of the passengers, and eagerly 
 inquired, " Where the Christians were to be found ? " 
 " Christians ! — we are all Christians here ! " was the 
 stranger's reply. Their joy was now complete, and it 
 drew from them involuntary exclamations of praise. 
 But their pleasure was destined to be only a momen- 
 tary transport ; for, instead of meeting with persons 
 whose hearts were knit together in faith and love, and 
 with whom they could take SAveet counsel on the 
 hopes and the blessedness of the better country, a little 
 observation painfully convinced them, that the people 
 to whom they were introduced were as thoroughly 
 imbued with the spirit of the world, and as eager in 
 the pursuit of its pleasures, as the wretched idolaters 
 whose place they had filled. In short, they found, that 
 if Christianity had extended its influence through the 
 adoption of its form by the inhabitants at large, the 
 ascendancy was dearly purchased at the expense of 
 its principles and its spirit ; and that the great ma- 
 jority of those who had professedly come over to the 
 
INTRODUCTION. 15 
 
 true religion, possessed — if a few outward observances 
 were excepted — none of the distinguishing attributes 
 of Christians but the name. Their disappointment 
 was now as bitter and painful as their anticipations, 
 from the altered habits of the citizens, had been san- 
 guine and high. Returning to their cave, they prayed 
 earnestly to be removed from a people in whose un- 
 congenial society they found little scope for the exer- 
 cise of Christian piety and love ; and God at length 
 heard and granted their petition, by translating them 
 to a better world, there to mingle with the sainted 
 martyrs and believers of the earlier and purer gene- 
 ration to which they had belonged. 
 
 This fable — for fable it is — whose excellent moral 
 has preserved it from the oblivion to which most of 
 the legends of the fathers are deservedly consigned, 
 was probably the production of some zealous Chris- 
 tian of the third century, who mourned over the sad 
 departure of his contemporaries from the purity of 
 primitive times, and who called in the assistance of 
 fiction to rebuke more effectually their growing dis- 
 position to substitute for the spirit and power of reli- 
 gion a superstitious observance of its forms. In this 
 respect the story is interesting and valuable, as it em- 
 bodies the tradition of an age not far removed from 
 that of the apostles and their immediate followers, 
 that those who in early times assumed the name of 
 Christian, stood out in strong: relief from the general 
 mass of society, by the spirituality of their tempers, and 
 the high-toned morality of their lives. But there is 
 no need to appeal to the doubtful authority of fable or 
 tradition, when there has been conveyed to us, through 
 a thousand channels, the most sure and unchallenge- 
 able evidence, that the Christians of the first ages, while 
 they lived in the world according to the flesh, lived 
 altogether above and out of it in spirit ; and though 
 it would be a false and exaggerated statement, which 
 represented any period in the history of fallen man 
 
1 6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 as a golden age of purity, we have the concurring 
 testimony of friends and foes, that the Church, during 
 the three first centuries, exhibited a state of society 
 which, for the wide and permanent influence of pure 
 morahty and genuine religion, stands in singular con- 
 trast to all other associations that have ever existed in 
 the world. In the annals of that remarkable period, we 
 meet with memorials, not of solitary individuals here 
 and there, whose rare exhibition of moral excellence 
 raised them, like lofty pyramids, above the ordinary 
 level of their age, but of a vast and indiscriminate 
 multitude of beUevers of every age, sex, and condition, 
 v/ho exemplified in a manner and a measure hitherto 
 unknown to the world, all the sanctities of religion, 
 and all the charities of life ; and when we take into 
 account the manifold disadvantages which birth, edu- 
 cation, and all the prevailing habits of society, placed 
 in the way of their acquiring the Christian character 
 at all, the splendid moralities imputed to them would 
 appear almost incredible, if we did not recollect the 
 source whence all their virtues were derived. At no 
 period Avere the effects of the Gospel, on the walk and 
 conversation of men, more striking, than at their first 
 developement; for then the contrast between the purity 
 of a Christian, and the gross and demoralizing manners 
 of a heathen idolater, forced itself on every observer ; 
 and the spectacle of selfish and narrow-minded Jews, 
 expanding into a spirit of universal benevolence, or of 
 men, born and bred in such cities as Corinth, Ephe- 
 sus, and Rome, where every form of corruption and 
 vice was almost interwoven with the elements of their 
 nature, not only keeping their garments unspotted bj 
 the flesh, but arrayed with an assemblage of virtues 
 greater than the purest philosophers of antiquity had 
 ever dreamed of, was a phenomenon viewed with uni- 
 versal astonishment by the heathen world. But it is 
 not merely when contrasted with the moral darkness 
 amid which they shone, that the virtues of the early 
 
INTRODUCTION. 17 
 
 Christians appear bright and attractive : they com- 
 mand our admiration by their native lustre. And when 
 we read of the devotion with which they gave them- 
 selves to every thing that was pure, and honest, and 
 just, and lovely, and of good report, — when we read 
 of the golden thread of piety that ran through the 
 whole web of their characters and lives, — of the holy 
 habits of faith and love which they carried into all the 
 walks of private and of public life, — of their constancy 
 and patience under trials of no common magnitude, 
 — and of the noble sacrifices they were ever ready to 
 make at the call of duty, — we are introduced to a 
 series of moral achievements, which, even at the dis- 
 tance of many centuries, and after all the progress of 
 Christianity in the world, seem more like the creations 
 of romance, than the transactions which sober history 
 records, and which will for ever remain a lasting monu- 
 ment of the mighty power of the Gospel to elevate and 
 sanctify the nature of man. 
 
 Such were the admirable virtues of those who first 
 bore the Christian name ; and although the same fea- 
 tures of character are possessed in common with them, 
 by all who, at any time, are animated by the faith and 
 holiness of the Gospel, yet the broad and splendid scale 
 on which, from peculiar circumstances, they were then 
 exhibited, have rendered them ol)jects of attraction, to 
 which succeeding ages have ever turned as constitut- 
 ing the brightest spot in the history of the Church. 
 The same causes which called forth, in so public and 
 glorious a manner, the holy excellencies that distin- 
 guished the primitive Christians, originated a variety 
 of customs peculiar to the first ages of the Church, 
 without a knoAvledge of which it is impossible to form 
 a right estimate of the piety and zeal of our religious 
 ancestors. Among these customs, there w^ere some, 
 of which no account could be given, and no reason 
 assigned for the observance, except that they were 
 traditionally received from the times of the apostles, 
 
18 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 whence a persuasion of their venerable origin, and 
 the experience of their being eminently favourable to 
 the promotion of piety, procured their adoption, by 
 common consent, into the practice of all who revered 
 such high authority and example. But in the great 
 majority of instances, the peculiarities of custom that 
 came to prevail among the primitive Christians, were 
 the gradual offspring of their circumstances, and — in 
 the different states in which their society subsisted — 
 in the smallness of their numbers, or their progressive 
 increase — in the sudden alternations of prosperity and 
 adversity, of peace and danger, which, for many ages, 
 they experienced — in the warm sensibilities, and the 
 forward uncompromising zeal of the Christians at 
 first — in the well-intended and ingenious devices, by 
 which they afterwards learned to conceal from their 
 heathen neighbours the objects and lessons of Chris- 
 tian faith, under the emblems of pagan superstition — 
 in the secret tokens by M^hich they maintained an in- 
 tercourse with friends at a distance, and in the elabo- 
 rate and anxious means they adopted to preserve the 
 purity of Christian society, by the admission of none 
 but those who had given long and decisive evidence of 
 the sincerity of their faith and virtue, — we can trace 
 the origin of that system of public and private man- 
 ners, which is inseparably associated with the earliest 
 age of the Church. In the course of the following 
 work, frequent opportunities will be afforded of illus- 
 trating all the various circumstances included under 
 this observation ; but, in the meantime, it may be 
 useful to specify three grand causes, that seem to 
 have had the most powerful influence in forming the 
 customs and manners of the primitive Christians. 
 
 At the time when Christianity burst on the atten- 
 tion of men, idolatry was the prevailing religion of by 
 far the greatest part of the world; and so much was 
 it interwoven with the Avhole framework of society, 
 that scarce an object could be found in pubHc or pri- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 19 
 
 vate life — scarce a matter of business transacted, the 
 slightest recreation enjoyed, or the most common forms 
 of social intercourse observed, mthout encountering 
 some manifestation of paganism. Multitudes of those 
 who embraced the new religion had been brought up 
 in the practice, and were familiar with all the abomi- 
 nations of idolatry ; and it was natural that, after they 
 had become persuaded of the folly and unlawfulness 
 of heathen worship, and were fully alive to the crimi- 
 nality of participating in the simplest of its observ- 
 ances, they should strive to place themselves beyond 
 the risk of being again contaminated by the unholy 
 thing. Under the strong impression which the new 
 and solemn discoveries of Christianity had made on 
 the minds of the believers, all the energies of their 
 nature were roused and directed towards the progress 
 and establishment of religion in their souls. The 
 constant fight they had to maintain not only against 
 the principles of their corrupt nature within, but 
 against the prevailing course of every-day life with- 
 out, necessaril}^ gave rise to a variety of customs and 
 observances which might have the effect of keeping 
 them in remembrance of spiritual purity, by the recur- 
 rence of new and contrary habits. All the customs 
 they adopted, and the ceremonies they practised at 
 that early period, were exclusively such as were of 
 spiritual use, and designed for pious ends ; and while 
 the primitive believers held only the same principles, 
 and manifested only the same spirit that Christians 
 are called to do in all ages, a peculiar tone of manners 
 was gradually superinduced by the necessity of keep- 
 ing their faith and virtue constantly alive and invio- 
 late by the practices of the heathen, who on all sides 
 surrounded them. 
 
 Seasons of persecution imposed a new necessity on 
 the Christians, of shaping their outward manners to 
 the altered spirit of the times. Objects of imperial 
 vengeance or popular hatred, because they would not, 
 
20 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 and could not abandon their faith, — they were obliged 
 to observe the most profound secrecy in practising the 
 duties, and enjoying the privileges of their religion. 
 Friends maintained their intercourse, and strangers 
 recognised their brethren by tokens and signs, which 
 formed the watchwords of the Christian community. 
 From a dread of being betrayed, their assemblies 
 were held under the darkness of the catacombs, or in 
 the solitude of the deserts. From a laudable desire 
 of preserving a high tone of faith and morality, the 
 holiest of their rites were withheld from all, until they 
 were tried by a course of protracted and laborious 
 training ; and hence, the forms, the seasons, the place, 
 and all the accompaniments of their worship being 
 varied as circumstances required, gave rise to observ- 
 ances and forms, which continued to be retained long 
 after the necessity that led to them had passed away. 
 Intervals of tranquillity and peace to the Christians, 
 afforded an occasion still more prolific than the season 
 of trials, for the formation of their peculiar customs 
 and manners. No longer hunted by the sword of 
 persecution, nor exposed to the public dangers of tor- 
 ture or the stake, they had still unabated warfare 
 to wage in private with the votaries of the ancient 
 religion. So long as Christianity was not the religion 
 of the majority, nor recognised by the written laws of 
 the empire, the tolerant spirit of the government could 
 not always exempt its disciples from a thousand an- 
 noyances in every-day life. The bitter malice and 
 resentment of the priests and other parties interested 
 in upholding the influence of existing superstitions, — 
 the blind zeal of the common people, ever ready for 
 the greatest excesses against the Christians, and the 
 uncertain humour of the inferior magistrates, jealous 
 of the least infringement of their authority, and often 
 too secretly disposed to countenance the rabble in 
 their hostility to the followers of the new sect, might, 
 on the slightest occasion, fasten on them charges which 
 
INTRODUCTION. 21 
 
 led to an abridgment of their privileges, and a fresh 
 persecution of their faith. In these circumstances, 
 the Christians, with a view to insure the more free 
 and public profession of their religion, and avoid as 
 much as possible oifending their Pagan fellow-subjects, 
 sought to combine the wisdom of the serpent with the 
 innocence of the dove, by retaining many of the usages 
 and emblems belonging to paganism, and giving them 
 a different meaning, known only and studiously kept 
 to themselves. While the Christians of the first cen- 
 tury recoiled with horror from whatever was knovNm 
 to have the remotest connection with idolatry, their 
 followers in the two succeeding centuries, thought 
 that many things, which, from time immemorial, had 
 been regarded as exclusively within the province of 
 heathenism, were susceptible of a new appropriation, 
 and that although by their ancient and established 
 use, they were diametrically opposed to the entire 
 spirit and requirements of Christianity, it was possible 
 to give them such a different application, as would 
 bring them into perfect harmony with the religion of 
 Jesus. By this plan of accommodation, objects of 
 familiar and daily use among the pagans, and which 
 were regarded by them as the emblems of their deities 
 and worship, were made symbolical of the parables and 
 doctrines of the Gospel. Many of the most noted and 
 favourite practices, with new and purely spiritual allu- 
 sions attached to them, were adopted into the system 
 of Christian observance, and numberless devices and 
 ornaments engraven on the architecture, the furniture, 
 and other property of the heathens, were converted into 
 symbols of the Christian faith, " by such new appro- 
 priations of them, as, while causing those who used 
 them to appear Gentiles to the Gentile, should enable 
 them to be known as Christians by the Christian." * 
 
 Enough has now been said in these introductoiy 
 observations, to satisfy the reader, who may not have 
 
 * Hope's Architecture. 
 
22 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 been previously acquainted with the state of the early 
 followers of Jesus, that a variety of customs did pre- 
 vail in their society peculiar to themselves ; and that 
 although, from the diffusive nature of Christianity, 
 which is capable of subsisting in every form of society, 
 and imparting its own sanctified spirit to all the insti- 
 tutions of civil life, no necessity was imposed on its 
 disciples to adopt any other observances, except such 
 as wTre required by the laws and ordinances of the 
 Gospel, yet the circumstances in which the primitive 
 Christians found themselves, naturally led to the in- 
 troduction among them of a system of manners totally 
 different from what has ever been exhibited by the 
 adherents of the same faith in any succeeding age. 
 As a branch, therefore, of the history of the Church, 
 the study of the customs and manners of the primi- 
 tive Christians, is both interesting and important. On 
 Christians of every name and every denomination, 
 who unite in revering them as their religious ances- 
 tors, it has the strongest claims ; and if a delineation 
 of the manners of the successive * races that have 
 peopled his native island is hailed with interest by 
 every enlightened and patriotic inhabitant of Britain, 
 — if a knowledge of the antiquities of Greece and 
 Rome is justly accounted an indispensable part of a 
 liberal education, — if a general acquaintance with the 
 forms of society that prevail amongst all the people of 
 the world, is eagerly sought after by those who love to 
 study human nature in its thousand varieties, — surely 
 to know something of the peculiar manners of the 
 primitive Christians, cannot but be an object of desire 
 by every friend to morality and religion, who consi- 
 ders how splendid, in both these respects, were the 
 character and attainments of those early followers of 
 Jesus. The gratification of a liberal curiosity, how- 
 ever, is not the only advantage of the study. It is 
 strongly recommended by its utility : and as the best 
 and wisest instructors of mankind always endeavour 
 
INTRODUCTION. 23 
 
 to fortify their counsels of wisdom and virtue, by 
 appealing to those who were eminent for the excel- 
 lencies they wish to inculcate, few subjects of inquiry 
 can be more beneficial to Christians, than that which 
 holds up to their admiration, and makes familiar to 
 their minds, the principles and habits of their ancient 
 predecessors in the faith. In all their manners and 
 customs, which were the gradual offspring of their 
 situation, and were at first resorted to, in simplicity 
 and godly sincerity, either as bulwarks for the de- 
 fence, or auxiliaries to the promotion of their faith 
 and virtue, we trace the workings of an intense desire 
 to adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour ; and even 
 those of their observances, which discover the shadows 
 as well as the lights of Christian life — which savour 
 of a sprinkling of superstition, and border on ascetic 
 severity, it were unjust to ascribe to a less purer ele- 
 ment than the same zeal for godliness. In studying 
 the private and public institutions of the primitive 
 Church, then, a reverence for the memory of the early 
 Christians, as well as love for historical truth, requires 
 us to direct our chief regard to the spirit by which 
 these were pervaded ; and, while we view them suc- 
 cessively exhibited amid the scenes of family retire- 
 ment, in the social intercourse of life, in the sacred 
 oflBces of public worship, and in the usages observed 
 towards the dying, the destitute, and the dead, — to 
 examine them less with the eye of antiquarian curio- 
 sity, than with the desire of discovering the external 
 forms by which the primitive believers expressed their 
 principles, and kept these in lively exercise. Such a 
 view of them cannot but be highly instructive. We 
 shall find, indeed, that it introduces us to the know- 
 ledge of sentiments regarding intercourse vnih the 
 world, which could result only from a peculiar state 
 of society, and of customs that were established in 
 opposition to scenes that have no longer any parallel 
 amongst us. But it should not, on that account, be 
 
24 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the less interesting, when we rememher that the sen- 
 timents and customs described were the distinguishing 
 traits of those who first trod the path of Christian 
 duty, and who are held up as patterns to every subse- 
 quent period of the Church. A difference of circum- 
 stances happily exempts us from the necessity of 
 resorting to the self-same means of protecting and 
 cherishing our faith and virtue. But as the mamiera 
 and customs that prevailed amongst them were ob- 
 viously no more than the external manifestations of 
 that spirit of piety that reigned in their hearts, and 
 which led them to make it the ambition and glory of 
 their lives to walk in all the commandments and ordi- 
 nances of the Lord, it cannot but tend to our profit to 
 make ourselves familiar with a subject so interesting 
 as that which professes to delineate the admirable 
 virtues of the primitive Christians. 
 
MANNERS 
 
 or THE 
 
 PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 CHRISTIANS LIVED GENERALLY LIKE OTHER MEN — PECULIARITIES FROM 
 THEIR VICINITY TO HEATHENS— DRESS— FURNITURE — PAGAN ORNA- 
 MENTS MADE CHRISTIAN SYMBOLS — DIET — STORY OP ALCIBIADES — 
 READING SCRIPTURES, AND SINGING, DURING MEALS — PRAYER THE 
 GRAND PRINCIPLE OF THEIR LIFE— FASTS — STORY OF FRUCTUOSUS — 
 INSTANCES OF EXTRAORDINARY KNOWLEDGE OF SCRIPTURES — GREAT 
 CARE OF RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OF THE YOUNG — SCHOOL-BOOKS — 
 USE OF THE SIGN OF THE CROSS VERY COMMON — STORY OF ORIGEN 
 — SACRIFICES OF DIOCLETIAN — AMUSEMENTS — CONDEMNED DICE — 
 ORNAMENTING OUTSIDE OF HOUSES— VERY SILENT. 
 
 Among the primitive disciples, Christianity made no 
 essential difterence in their relations to society and 
 the external world, more than it does among their 
 followers in the present day. Apart from the faith 
 they had embraced, and the altered estimate it led 
 them to form of the scenes and the pleasures of the 
 world, their new views occasioned no change in their 
 rank, their profession, or their outward circumstances 
 in life. In general, they lived like other men around 
 them — speaking the same language, partaking of the 
 same fare, observing the same intervals of labour and 
 repose, and in every thing that was honourable, pure, 
 and of good report, conforming to the rules and the 
 habits which custom had established. The mechanic 
 wrought at his trade, the husbandman prosecuted the 
 labours of the field, the merchant repaired to his shop, 
 the soldier continued in the ranks, — men went, from 
 day to day, and from place to place, obeying the calls 
 
28 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 of business and friendship as before ; and, instead of 
 separating from their former acquaintance, or with- 
 drawinsr into solitude from the avocations to which 
 they had been bred and by which they lived, they gave 
 no symptoms, in any of these respects, of a change 
 of habits, except that, being furnished with higher 
 motives, they attended with an activity, a diligence, 
 and fidelity greater than ever, to all the claims of 
 bociety and the offices of life. In the earliest times, 
 indeed, when persecutions were frequent and severe, 
 there were many Christians, male and female, married 
 and unmarried, who, justly persuaded that nothing 
 should come in competition with their fidelity to Christ, 
 and fearing, at the same time, their own inability to 
 remain stedfast and immovable amid the fiery trials 
 by which they were assailed, resolved on abandoning 
 for a time their place and possessions in the world, 
 and fleeinof to distant mountains and inaccessible de- 
 serts, where they spent their time in the service of 
 God, and continued, at a distance from temptations to 
 apostasy, the exercises of meditation and prayer. But 
 when peace was restored, and the profession of Chris- 
 tianity was no longer proscribed and dangerous, this 
 measure of prudence was no longer resorted to. Those 
 who had found it expedient, for the preservation of 
 their Christian fidelity, to take such a step, quitted 
 their temporary retirement ; and although there were 
 some who, having come, through habit, to prefer a 
 solitary life, remained in their adopted habitations in 
 the wilderness, the great majority of these voluntary 
 exiles returned to the circle of their families and 
 friends, and mingled as before in the wonted scenes 
 and activities of life. Indeed, it was no part of the 
 creed of the primitive Christians, that on embracing 
 the religion of Jesus, they were required to give up 
 all concern in the secular business, or to become dead 
 to the comforts and innocent enjoyments of the world. 
 On the contrary, instead of thinking, with many of 
 
DRESS. 29 
 
 the philosophers and visionaries of both ancient and 
 modern times, that it was the perfection of -wisdom 
 and virtue to go out of it, they believed that Chris- 
 tianity shed a sanctifying influence over all the rela- 
 tions, and habits, and transactions of life. Feeling 
 deeply the debt of gratitude they owed to their Creator, 
 they despised not the sober and moderate enjoyment 
 of any of his gifts ; and, animated by the sublime 
 motive of consecrating their time, their talents, and the 
 whole powers of their nature to the service of Christ, 
 they were ready, above all classes of their contem- 
 poraries, to occupy themselves with the ordinary 
 business, and, when it did not violate their fidelity 
 to their Divine Master, to participate in the ordinary 
 indulgencies of life. 
 
 Situated, however, as they Avere among a people, 
 where all the forms of life, and many of its pursuits 
 and pleasures were more or less connected with the 
 service of paganism, and with the strong impressions 
 they had newly received, that religion was their all- 
 important concern, it is not to be wondered at that 
 their ideas of dutv should be severe, and their habits 
 should be tinged with peculiarities in regard to many 
 things, Avhich Christians in a more favourable state of 
 society would regard as allowable and innocent. No- 
 thing, for example, may appear more purely a matter 
 of indifference, than the choice of the fashion and 
 colour of dress ; and yet, in the circumstances of the 
 primitive Christians, articles of that nature did ac- 
 quire such an importance in their eyes, that the}'<gra- 
 dually fell into a style of clothing peculiar to them- 
 selves. Not that they affected any singularities in 
 their personal appearance — for their habiliments were 
 made and worn in the ordinary fashion of the time 
 and place, — and Christians, whether they were found 
 in the high, the middle, or the lower ranks, were ac- 
 customed to equip themselves in a manner suitable to 
 the decencies of the state or profession to which they 
 
 c 
 
30 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 helonged. But, looking to the moral influence of 
 dress, desirous of avoiding every thing that might 
 minister to vanity, or lead the wearer to forget, in 
 attending to the outward man, the ornament of a meek 
 and quiet spirit, they studiously rejected all finery as 
 unbecoming the humility of their character, and con- 
 fined themselves to a suit of apparel, remarkable, not 
 so much for the plainness of the material, as for the 
 absence of all superfluous ornament. Every thing 
 gaudy or sumptuous, that partook of the costly stuff's, 
 or the crimsoned dyes that suited the luxurious taste 
 of the times, was discountenanced by the spiritually- 
 minded followers of Christ ; and, though many of 
 them were entitled, by birth or otherwise, to appear 
 in the flowing folds of the graceful toga, yet, even 
 that favourite garb, while it was retained for the 
 valuable privileges it conferred, was looked upon as 
 too gay and splendid for ordinary use, and was by 
 most, if not by all the Christians, laid aside for the 
 common pallium or cloak, to which the preference 
 was given, on account of the air of greater modesty 
 and gravity that was supposed to belong to it. More- 
 over, am.ong the Christians of the East, the custom 
 early prevailed of wearing garments of no other colour 
 than white, — in order that they might carry about 
 with them a perpetual memorial of the purity of 
 character that became their profession; and there 
 were others in various parts of the world, who thought 
 it their duty to carry the imitation of Christ to the 
 exterffc of wearing the meanest and most common 
 attire of one in the form of a servant. But neither of 
 these extravagances met with very general counte- 
 nance ; and the greater part contented themselves with 
 a dress, free from all approach to gaudiness and pomp, 
 betraying no symptoms of an anxious and elaborate 
 decoration of the person, and conspicuous only for its 
 neat and cleanly appearance. 
 
 There was the greater reason for the Christians 
 
DRESS. 31 
 
 observing this simplicity and precision in matters of 
 dress, that their contemporaries were universally noted 
 for their grossly effeminate and superstitious attention 
 to personal ornament. The garments both of Jews 
 and Gentiles were overloaded with devices and figures 
 of embroidery, which were worn by all ranks, partly 
 from the love of show, partly because they were wrought 
 into those shapes deemed most efficacious in resisting 
 the assaults of magic, and the influence of the evil 
 eye. The one had their tunics richly fringed with 
 scraps of Scripture, in letters of gold ; and the other 
 had theirs decorated with various emblems of their 
 worship, — which, with both classes, were used for the 
 double purpose of amulets to protect them from dan- 
 ger, and of ornaments to gratify an insatiable appetite 
 for splendour and extravagance. Besides, in other 
 parts of their dress, they were no less luxurious and 
 fond of display. The men studied all the arts of effemi- 
 nacy, by painting their beards, and covering their tem- 
 ples and shoulders with artificial curls, in imitation of 
 women, and besmearing their clothes with fragrant per- 
 fumes ; the women courted attraction not only by the 
 richness and splendour of their robes, but by a dazzling 
 profusion of pearls, and pendants of gold and silver ; 
 and so much had this rage for finery then infected 
 the whole Roman world, that even the people of the 
 middle and common ranks never appeared abroad, 
 but in dresses of the most costly and ostentatious de- 
 scription,* Against all such meretricious ornaments 
 the primitive Christians lifted up the silent testimony 
 of their example ; and, while they affected no pecu- 
 liarities in the form and style of their clothing, they 
 showed the superior excellence of their principles and 
 their taste; — in their men and their women attiring 
 themselves with a decent propriety, equally removed 
 from the extremes of elaborate decoration and sordid 
 negligence. So well was this known to be a distin- 
 
 • Meursius de luxuria Romanorum. 
 
32 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 guishing feature in their practice, that the first public 
 tokens of a heathen's conversion to Christianity, were 
 frequently given by the change on his outvi^ard man ; 
 and a criminal vs^ho once come to trial under the 
 assumed character of a Christian, was shovsra, to the 
 satisfaction of the judge, to have been an impostor, by 
 the luxuriant and frizzled appearance of his hair.* 
 
 The same simplicity and plainness reigned through- 
 out the domestic establishments of the Christians. 
 Most of the primitive disciples, indeed, were in cir- 
 cumstances that offered no temptations to indulge in 
 splendour or variety of ornamental furniture. Their 
 inventory of goods embraced only a few simple articles 
 of use, which their personal and family wants required ; 
 and it may be supposed, therefore, that there was no- 
 thing remarkable in the absence from their houses, of 
 all traces of pomp and elegance, which they neither 
 possessed the means, nor entertained the hope of ac- 
 quiring. But even those of their number who were 
 persons of rank and opulence, amply provided with 
 resources to gratify a taste for ornament, chose to con- 
 tent themselves with such things as were recommend- 
 ed by their utility rather than their elegance, and 
 calculated to answer the purposes of necessity and 
 comfort, rather than to gratify the lust of the eye and 
 the pride of life. Seats and cabinets, finished with the 
 costly veneering of tortoise-shell, and couches orna- 
 mented with the rich embroideries of Babylon, — ves- 
 sels of gold and silver, the numberless statues and 
 other graceful accompaniments, of all sizes and forms, 
 which adorned the chambers, the porticoes, and gar- 
 dens of the rich, and indicated the epicurean taste 
 that distinguished the age, disappeared from the houses 
 of the Christians as inconsistent with a humble and 
 mortified life ; and however refined and exquisite 
 the taste which, through education, and the habits of 
 society, any of them had acquired, they learned to 
 
 * Fleury. Mceurs des Chretiens. 
 
FURNITURE OP HOUSES. 33 
 
 subject it to the higher principle of denying themselves 
 to every thing that tended too much to captivate the 
 senses, and increase their love to a world, the fashion 
 whereof they thought was soon to pass away. This 
 indiscriminate rejection of the elegancies of life has 
 frequently exposed the memory of the primitive Chris- 
 tians to the sneer of the infidel, and the unmeasured 
 indignation of the enthusiastic admirer of the arts ; 
 and, perhaps, in some instances, there may be a foun- 
 dation for the charge, that they manifested an un- 
 called-for severity in their too great and unqualified 
 contempt of pleasures, which become sinful only when 
 indulged to a criminal excess.* But to a people on 
 whose minds the doctrines of Christianity had burst 
 with all the force and vividness of a new and impor- 
 tant discovery, and among whom the impression al- 
 most universally prevailed, that the years of the ^vorld 
 were about to close, it was natural to regard Mith 
 jealousy, and treat with neglect, all the forms of earthly 
 pomp and beauty, that tended to supplant their desires 
 for the objects and glories of that better world on 
 which their hearts were fixed. Although the indif- 
 ference and superiority to the world which Christianity 
 requires, lies solely in the state and aifections of the 
 mind, and this spiritual habit may be cultivated in the 
 most opposite circumstances of affluence or poverty, 
 it was natural that the Christians, in the first ardour 
 of their faith and hope, should overlook this dis- 
 tinction, and consider that their safety consisted in 
 the complete abandonment of luxuries and pleasures, 
 the thought of which was so ready to come in com- 
 petition with concern for their souls. 
 
 Besides, had they been ever so strongly inclined to 
 indulge in a taste for the artificial elegancies of life, 
 they could not have decorated their houses with any 
 of the articles of ornamental furniture then most in 
 repute, without doing violence to all the principles and 
 
 • Gibbon's Decline and Fall, chap. xv. Hope's Architecture. 
 
34 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 feelings most sacred and dear to the Christian mind. 
 Not a work of art was to be found adorning the halls 
 of the rich, nor a utensil adapted to the purposes of 
 domestic life in use among the common people, but 
 bore some memorial of the objects and fables of idola- 
 trv. The modern ornaments attached to the handles 
 of cabinets, or the feet of tables, in the shape of the 
 heads and claws of animals, were invariably supplied 
 by images of the gods, wrought in bronze, ivory, and 
 silver. The drinking cups, whether of earthenware or 
 of the more precious metals, were inscribed with the 
 customary form of libation, or with sentiments in 
 praise of the gifts of Ceres and Bacchus. Their rings 
 and seals bore the miniature figures of the familiar 
 household gods, which they carried about Avith them 
 every where, and to which they prayed as often as cir- 
 cumstances required. And the walls of their cham- 
 bers were painted with all sorts of figures of men, 
 women, and animals, celebrated in the history, or 
 consecrated to the rites of the popular superstition.* 
 No appearances of beauty, or skill the most exquisite, 
 could reconcile the Christians to works of art, which 
 were thus invariably finished in a style the most 
 offensive to their moral and religious feelings ; and, 
 therefore, discarding them with holy abhorrence, they 
 admitted into their houses nothing but what was of 
 the plainest description, and of indispensable use. 
 The Christians of the first age, however, soon found 
 many inconveniences arising from the adoption of such 
 a rule. They could not change one place of residence 
 for another, as they had frequently occasion to do, 
 without being again surrounded with the images of 
 idolatry ; and to avoid this, they fell on the expedient 
 which afterwards came to prevail universally in Chris- 
 tian society, of supplanting such heathen objects by 
 similar ones more suited to their principles and feel- 
 ings. Thus, in painting their walls, or carving orua- 
 
 « Sir William Cell's Topography of Modern Rome. 
 
PAGAN SYMBOLS ADOPTED BY CDRISTIANS. 35 
 
 ments on their furniture, while they adhered to the 
 general style of docouition vvliich then prevailed, by 
 covering them with groups of men and animals, they 
 were always careful to represent them in such a form, 
 and with such secret marks, as were signs to a Chris- 
 tian eye of their being symbolical of the history or 
 subjects of the Gospel. The emblem of a vine, with 
 figures sporting among the branches, and the various 
 processes connected with the turning of the grapes 
 into wine, which, among the heathen, alluded to 
 the festival of Bacchus, were made by the Christians 
 an allegorical picture, to denote the duties and labours 
 of the vineyard of Christ. Branches of palms, which 
 the heathen regarded as emblems of victory, the 
 Christians adopted to mark the triumphs of the Cross. 
 On their drinking cups, the figure of a shepherd 
 carrying a lamb on his shoulders, represented the Sa- 
 viour graciously supporting poor and feeble sinners ; 
 the dove of Venus became the emblem of the Holy 
 Ghost ; the stag of Diana, the symbol of a believer's 
 soul panting after the living waters of salvation ; an 
 anchor stood for Christian hope, and a lyre for Chris- 
 tian joy. Thus did the Christian seek to pacify the 
 adherents of the old superstition, by retaining ahnost 
 all of their familiar pictures and family ornaments, and 
 by fitting up th^ir houses in a style apparently the same 
 as that of their heathen neighbours, but actually asso- 
 ciated in the minds of the owners M-ith ideas purely 
 and exclusively Christian. It was a measure of po- 
 licy, if not of Christian wisdom ; and any one, who, by 
 an efibrt of imagination, places himself in a state of 
 society, where every thing to be met with in daily life 
 was bound up with heathenism, will understand the 
 unspeakable relief imparted to the Christian mind, 
 in being enabled, by such a device, to make the ab- 
 horred objects of idolatry the means of reminding it 
 of what was most interesting and glorious in the faith 
 of the Gospel. 
 
36 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 The tables of the primitive Christians were dis- 
 tinguished bv the greatest frugality and temperance. 
 Their grand principle was to eat and drink in order to 
 satisfy the cravings of nature, and invigorate their bo- 
 dies for a renewal of their necessary labours; and while, 
 on the one hand, they knew nothing of the austere and 
 painful abstinence, which after-ages of ignorance and 
 superstition came to practise and extol as highly meri- 
 torious, they were equally careful, on the other hand, 
 to check the indulgence of a nice and fastidious taste 
 in the gratification of the palate. There w^as nothing, 
 indeed, which they seem to have been more solicitous 
 to avoid than any imitation of the excessive luxury 
 and epicurean habits of their contemporaries ; and 
 justly accounting all excess, whether in eating or in 
 drinking, as incompatible with the maintenance of 
 purity, and attention to spiritual duties, they inflex- 
 ibly adhered to the rule of abstaining from every thing 
 that tended to inflame the passions, or to engender 
 any hankering after the pleasures of sense. On no 
 species of food did they lay an interdict, except on 
 things strangled, and on blood, according to the coun- 
 sel of the apostles, wdiich, for many ages, continued in 
 force among the Christians, — and such high seasoned 
 viands as were heating to the frame. Those of the 
 East, indeed, who, living in a warmer climate, were 
 always distinguished by their habits of austerity and 
 abstinence beyond Christians in other places, preferred 
 the flesh of fish or fowl to the grosser and more suc- 
 culent flesh of quadrupeds. ]Many of them even lived 
 wholly on a diet consisting of preparations of milk, or 
 of vegetables, or such light fruit as figs and dates. 
 Wine was freely admitted to the tables of the primi- 
 tive Christians — their notions of propriety, however, 
 forbidding the use of it to women and young people. 
 But even by the other sex it was drank sparingly ; 
 and though chiefly the weak wine of the country, 
 was always, according to the practice of the ancients, 
 
FRUGAL DIET. 37 
 
 diluted with water. To have continued long indulging 
 in such a luxury, or to have been discovered smelling 
 the flavour of the wine-cup, — to have made sumptuous 
 preparations for the table, — to have betrayed much 
 anxiety about the cookery, or produced a great variety 
 of viands and spicery at their entertainments, would, in 
 those early days of Christianity, have brought discredit, 
 if not ruin, on the religious character of the individual. 
 And yet there were no austerities then in vogue among 
 the Christians. Looking upon all the creatures of 
 God as good for food, they deemed themselves at per- 
 fect liberty to make use of them as suited their con- 
 venience and their taste, at such times, and in such 
 a measure, as temper, constitution, or age, required ; 
 and they never dreamt of imposing any limits to the 
 enjoyment of the comforts of life, beyond what reason 
 and religion prescribed. But justly accounting an ill 
 regulated and luxurious appetite as the source of in- 
 numerable evils, and placing their highest ambition 
 and pleasure in the attainment of spiritual excellence, 
 they practised the greatest abstemiousness, confining 
 themselves to the plainest and simplest fare, — in many 
 instances taking only one meal, in none more than two 
 a-day, and then never carrying their indulgence in 
 the pleasures of the table farther than that temperate 
 use of them which was necessary to repair the bodily 
 vigour, and which left the mind free and ready, as 
 occasion offered, to engage in prayer or other exercises 
 of religion. The object they proposed to themselves 
 by the practice of such singular moderation, was that 
 of mortifying the senses, and enabling them to wield 
 with a firmer hand the reins of discipline over the mo- 
 tions and appetites of their corrupt nature ; and that 
 they entertained not the most distant idea of making 
 a vain and Pharisaic parade of their abstinence, or 
 were accustomed to regard it in no other light than 
 as simply a means of promoting the great end of their 
 moral and religious improvement, is evident from the 
 
38 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 following, out of innumerable anecdotes, by which we 
 might illustrate this branch of their customs. Among 
 the martyrs that fell during the violent persecution of 
 the Christians at Lyons, was a young man of the name 
 of Alcibiades, distinguished for the exalted piety of his 
 character, and who had for years accustomed himself 
 to a small and sordid diet. When thrown into the 
 dunp-eons, he continued the same habits of living, 
 which, though long custom had rendered them easy 
 to himself, gave offence, it seems, to several of his fel- 
 low-prisoners, who found it impossible to conform to 
 his standard of abstinence. At length one of the con- 
 fessors, undertaking seriously to remonstrate with him 
 on the impropriety of refusing to enjoy the gifts of a 
 bountiful Providence, and thereby creating jealousy in 
 the minds of others, Alcibiades listened in a Christian 
 spirit to the friendly admonition, and from that mo- 
 ment, laying aside all singularity, indiscriminately 
 partook of whatever was provided for himself and his 
 brethren in distress. Thus admirably did the primi- 
 tive Christians observe the golden mean, by avoiding 
 equally the extremes of sordid penury and luxurious 
 gratification of the senses. Their frugal diet acquired 
 a relish from their previous labours ; and, while they 
 never denied themselves to any of the good things of 
 life, as far as was consistent with the ends of sobriety 
 and religion, they considered it their duty always to 
 keep within the bounds of that " temperance which 
 is a fi'uit of the Spirit." 
 
 The manner in which they conducted their repasts 
 was itself an effectual preservative of temperance, 
 while, at the same time, it was eminently characteristic 
 of the piety and spirituality of the primitive age. — 
 When dinner had been served, and the fomily had 
 taken their seats at the table, the master of the house- 
 hold, with a grave and solemn voice, and in a prayer 
 of considerable length, acknowledged their dependence 
 on the care of their common Father, expressed their 
 
READING OF SCRIPTURES DURING MEALS. 39 
 
 gratitude for the past tokens of bis bounty, and invoked 
 him to bless, for their health and comfort, the provi- 
 sions of which they ^ve^e about to partake. During 
 the progress of the meal, some member of the family, 
 in houses of the lower class, or some hired reader, in 
 those of the richer orders, entertained the company 
 with select portions of the Scriptures ; '"' for so strong 
 and insatiable was their appetite for spiritual food, that 
 they could not rest satisiied and happy without pro- 
 viding suitable refreshment for the soul, at the same 
 time that they were enjoying the comforts of the body. 
 The viands being removed, the family circle was drawn 
 more closely tojzether, — for now were unfolded, and 
 put into the hands of all, the precious scrolls in which, 
 in those days, the Scriptures were written. Previous 
 to this, however, each was expected to put himself in 
 an attitude of becoming reverence ; the hands were 
 carefully washed, that not a stain might fall on the 
 Sacred Volume ; and, while the men remained with 
 their heads bare, the women covered themselves with 
 a veil, as a token of respect for the Book of God. The 
 head of the family then read aloud a few passages, both 
 from the Old and the New Testament, accompanying 
 them with some plain and simple admonitions of his 
 own, or recalling to the memory of his audience the 
 public exhortations which, on the preceding Sabbath, 
 had been founded on them in the church ; or he taught 
 the younger branches of the house to repeat after him 
 the beautiful prayer ^vhich was dictated by the lips 
 of the Saviour; and told them, in simple phrase, of 
 the love which God bears to the young, and of the 
 blessedness of remembering their Creator in the days 
 of their youth. These readings and exhortations were 
 always short, and diversified, at intervals, by sacred 
 
 * It was customary among the better classes of the ancient pagans to 
 provide readers during their entertainments : the classical reader will 
 remember many instances of this. W^e may mention only that of Juvenal, 
 who, inviting a friend to sup with him, promises to entertain him with 
 Homer and Virgil. 
 
40 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 music, — of M'hich the primitive Christians were pas- 
 sionately fond. Sometimes one, distinguished by taste 
 and talents for spiritual songs, sung some favourite 
 piece of sacred melody ; at other times, the shrill voices 
 of the women and the children were blended in full 
 chorus with the deeper tones of the men, — till, as the 
 hour set apart for refreshment drew towards a close, 
 the venerable parent, whose look and attitude called 
 for momentary silence, gave thanks to the Giver of all 
 good for the enjoyment of their natural and spiritual 
 comforts, and prayed that his presence and his blessing 
 might be with them during the succeeding period of 
 labour and duty. Thus, among the primitive Chris- 
 tians, their ordinary refreshments were sanctified with 
 the Word of God and Avith prayer; and thus were 
 the words of eternal truth interwoven, in the most 
 agreeable and captivating manner, with the habits and 
 the pleasures of every-day life. Instead of consuming 
 their leisure hours in vacant idleness, or deriving their 
 chief amusement from boisterous merriment, the re- 
 cital of tales of superstition, or the chanting the profane 
 songs of the heathen,^* they passed their hours of repose 
 in rational and enlivening pursuits, found pleasure in 
 enlarging their religious knowledge, and entertainment 
 in songs that were dedicated to the praise of God. 
 These formed their pastime in private, and their fa- 
 vourite recreations at their family and friendly meet- 
 ings. With their minds full of the inspiring influence 
 of these, they returned with fresh ardour to their scenes 
 of toil ; and, to gratify their taste by a renewal of the 
 same vocal entertainment, they longed for release from 
 labour, far more than to appease their appetite with 
 the provisions of the table. So far were these sacred 
 occupations from being regarded as mere matters of 
 routine by the primitive Christians, — so much were 
 the sentiments and the melody of the sacred songs 
 
 • Very few of the songs of the heathen, even when they did not relate 
 to the popular religion, were fit for the ears of a Christian. — Lord Hailes' 
 Inquiry, p. 234. 
 
PRAYER. 41 
 
 engraven on their memories and dear to their hearts, 
 that after they had left the family group and repaired 
 to their respective employments, they were wont to 
 cheer themselves in private, amid the various processes 
 of labour, with repeating the songs of Zion. Young 
 women sitting at their distaff, and matrons going about 
 the duties of their household, Avere constantly hum- 
 ming some spiritual airs.* And Jerome relates of the 
 place where he lived, that one could not go into the 
 field without hearing the ploughman at his hallelujahs, 
 the mower at his hymns, and the vine-dresser singing 
 the Psalms of David. 
 
 But it was not merely at noon, and in time of their 
 meals, that the primitive Christians read the Word of 
 God and sang praises to his name. At an early hour 
 in the morning the family was assembled, when a 
 portion of Scripture was read from the Old Testament, 
 which was followed by a hymn and a prayer, in which 
 thanks were offered up to the Almighty for preserving 
 them during the silent watches of the night, and for 
 his goodness in permitting them to meet in health of 
 body and soundness of mind ; and, at the same time, 
 his grace was implored to defend them amid the 
 dangers and temptations of the day, — to make them 
 faithful to every duty, and enable them, in all respects, 
 to walk worthy of their Christian vocation. During 
 the day, they had, like the Jews, stated seasons, at the 
 third, sixth, and ninth hours, corresponding respec- 
 tively to nine, twelve, and three o'clock, according to 
 our computation, when those who had command of 
 their time, were wont to retire for a little to engage 
 in the exercises of devotion. In the evening, before 
 retiring to rest, the family again assembled, when the 
 same form of worship was observed as in the morning, 
 with this difference, that the service was considerably 
 protracted beyond the period which could be conve- 
 niently allotted to it in the commencement of the day. 
 
 • Lives of the Fathers. 
 
42^ PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 Besides all tliese frequent observances, tliey were in 
 the habit of rising at midnight to engage in prayer and 
 the singing of psalms, — a practice of venerable anti- 
 quity, and which, as Dr Cave justly supposes, " took 
 its origin from the first times of persecution, when, not 
 daring to meet together in the day, they were forced 
 to keep their religious assemblies in the night/' * 
 
 While the Christians, in their family capacity, ob- 
 served these periodical seasons of devotion, they laid 
 hold of many opportunities, both stated and occasional, 
 of praying in private. In addition to the secret sup- 
 plications which every morning and evening they ad- 
 dressed to the throne of grace, they were accustomed, 
 on every proper and convenient occasion, to begin 
 and terminate all their actions with prayer, — either 
 audible or silent, according to circumstances. On 
 receiving any personal or domestic token of the divine 
 goodness, when engaged in any important undertaking, 
 such as sowing their seed, or reaping their harvest — 
 laying the foundation of a house, or taking possession 
 of it — placing a web in the loom, or putting on a new 
 suit of clothes — entering on a journey, or going into a 
 bath — forming a new relation, or parting with a friend 
 — mingling with company — at the beginning or clos- 
 ing of a letter — they indulged in the aspirations of 
 prayer ; and so much did they familiarize themselves 
 with its spirit and its sentiments, that they seemed to 
 have cultivated the habit of constant mental inter- 
 course with their heavenly Father. Prayer, indeed, 
 was the grand element that pervaded the life of the 
 primitive Christians ; for that spiritual exercise, being 
 not so much a separate and formal act, as a habit 
 and frame of mind, and consisting of all the various 
 elements of praise and thankfulness, confidence and 
 hope, obedience and love, so these principles of a new 
 nature, being established in their minds, and diffusing a 
 
 • Cave's Primitive Christianity. — This practice might have arisen also 
 from a peculiar notion of theirs, that the end of the world was to coia* 
 literally as a thief in the night. 
 
FASTS. 43 
 
 sanctified influence over the whole tenor of their walk 
 and conversation, gave vigour to their, faith, stability 
 to their virtue, and fed, like a perpetual spring, all 
 the streams of Christian activity and excellence, for 
 which they were so remarkable. 
 
 But not content with such stated and occasional 
 opportunities as we have now described, the zeal of 
 the primitive Christians prompted them to set apart, 
 from time to time, special and extraordinary seasons, 
 when, retiring from the world and their ordinary 
 avocations, they gave themselves up to earnest and 
 protracted prayer, with a view of establishing on their 
 minds a livelier sense of spiritual things, and prepar- 
 ing themselves to return, with renovated faith and 
 diligence, to the duties, temptations, and trials of life. 
 And as, on all such occasions, they felt themselves 
 under the painful necessity of expressing their humility 
 and sorrow on account of sin, they were accustomed 
 to make them days of fasting as well as of devotion, 
 — not only to indicate, by that act of self-denial, that 
 they were in a state of affliction, but to fit them for 
 better and more uninterrupted fellowship v/ith God, and 
 meditation on heavenly things. These fasts being en- 
 tirely private and voluntary, were more or less frequent, 
 and of greater or less duration and austerity, according 
 to the temper, habit, or outward circumstances of the 
 individual who appointed them. Sometimes they were 
 observed only on the anniversary of a birth-day ; by 
 some they Avere practised at the })eginning of every 
 quarter ; while others, again, found it expedient to 
 renew them as often as once a- month, or even once 
 a-week. In observing these fasts, the practice of the 
 great majority was to abridge som.e of their daily com- 
 forts only, without subjecting themselves to the pain 
 and inconvenience of total alistinence. Some refrained 
 only from the use of flesh and wine ; some contented 
 themselves with a light diet of vegetables or fruit. The 
 Christians in colder latitudes often limited their want 
 
44 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 of food to a certain number of hours, Tvhile those in 
 ■warmer climates continued their fasting to the close of 
 the day. But whether the duration of their fasts was 
 longer or shorter, and whether they maintained an 
 entire or merely a partial abstinence from food, they 
 considered it a sacred duty inflexibly to adhere to the 
 time and the manner they had resolved on at the com- 
 mencement. Thus, for example, Fructuosus, an emi- 
 nent servant of Christ in Spain, being, along with two 
 deacons of his church, apprehended on a Sabbath, 
 because they refused to sacrifice to the gods, lay in 
 prison for several days before they were brought to 
 trial ; and on the fourth day, he, together with his 
 companions in distress, agreed to fast. Early in the 
 morning, after they had resolved on this religious 
 exercise, they were summoned to the presence of the 
 magistrate, and as nothing would shake their determi- 
 nation not to sacrifice, they were forthwith condemned 
 to be burnt alive. While the martyrs were on their 
 way to the amphitheatre, the multitude were loud and 
 universal in their expressions of sympathy, especially 
 with Fructuosus, whose conciliatory manners and be- 
 nevolent character had won him golden opinions, not 
 only with the Christian, but even the pagan inhabitants 
 of Tarracona, of which he was bishop ; and while some 
 of the crowd kindly offered him to drink from a cup 
 of wine, mixed Avith spices, he declined, saying, " My 
 fast is not yet ended," — for it still wanted two hours 
 of the entire day. 
 
 With the knowledge of these extraordinary means 
 which the primitive Christians adopted for keeping the 
 sacred flame of piety and devotion burning in their 
 hearts, and animating every part of their every-day 
 life, we need not wonder that they were such bright 
 exemplars of every Christian excellence and virtue. 
 They " prayed without ceasing," and as materials of 
 prayer, they had the " Word of God dwelling in them 
 richly and abounding." Indeed, nothing in their his- 
 
EXTRAORDINARY KNOWLEDGE OF SCRIPTURES. 45 
 
 tory is more worthy of admiration, than the extensive 
 and accurate knowledge they possessed of the Scrip- 
 tures. At a time when the copies of the sacred volume 
 were all in manuscript, and very scarce, — ^being so dear 
 as to be beyond the reach of many to purchase, and 
 when multitudes of those who had been converted to 
 Christianity were unacquainted with the first elements 
 of reading, the great majority of them were conver- 
 sant v\dth the phraseology and the matter of the Word 
 of life, to a degree that may well put Qiristians of 
 later days to shame. Those of the men who could 
 read, never Avent abroad Avithout carrying a Bible 
 in their pockets — while the women wore it hanging 
 about their necks,* and, by frequently refreshing their 
 memories by private perusal, and drawing little groups 
 of anxious listeners around them, they acquired so 
 familiar an acquaintance with the lively oracles, that 
 there were few who could not repeat those passages 
 that contained any thing remarkable respecting the 
 doctrines of their faith, or the precepts of their duty. 
 Nay, there were many who had made the rare and 
 enviable attainment of being able to say the entire 
 Scriptures by heart* One person is mentioned among 
 the martyrs in Palestine, so well instructed in the 
 sacred writings, that, when occasion oflPered, he could, 
 from memory, repeat passages in any part of the Scrip- 
 ture as exactly as if he had unfolded the book and read 
 them; a second, being unacquainted with letters, used 
 to invite friends and Christian strangers to his house 
 to read to him, by which means he acquired an ex- 
 tensive knowledge of the sacred oracles ; and another 
 may be mentioned, of whom the description is so ex- 
 traordinary, that we shall give it in the words of the 
 historian, Eusebius, who knew him : — " Whenever 
 he willed, he brought forth, as from a repository of 
 science, and rehearsed either the law of Moses, or 
 
 * Some people were found buried with their copy of the Scriptures 
 fastened to their bosoms. 
 
 D 
 
46 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 the prophets, or the historical, evangelical, and apos- 
 tolical parts of Scripture. Indeed, I was struck 
 with admiration when I first beheld him standing 
 amidst a considerable multitude, and reciting certain 
 portions of holy writ. As long as I could only hear 
 his voice, I supposed that he was reading ; but when 
 I came close up to him, I discovered that, employing 
 only the eyes of his mind, he uttered the divine oracles 
 like some prophet."* 
 
 These es;amples of extraordinary knowledge of the 
 Scriptures are quoted as singular only for the natural 
 defects and disadvantages under which the acquisition 
 was made; for the same ardour and indefatigable 
 zeal to study the oracles of divine truth animated all 
 classes of the followers of Christ in early times, 
 M'hether they were educated or not. The Bible was 
 the book which they prized above all other learning, 
 and which they never wearied in reading, or hear- 
 ing read ; philosophers abandoning the language and 
 speculations of the schools as only " darkness visible," 
 gave their days and nights to inquire after the wis- 
 dom from above ; men of taste and literature found 
 Homer and Virgil, Demosthenes and Cicero, jejune, 
 insipid, and unedifying, in comparison of the Psalms 
 of David, and the Epistles of Paul ; and the whole 
 society of Christians laboured and delighted in ex- 
 ploring the mine of Scripture — where they found 
 that the deeper they dug, the richer was the ore, and 
 the higher the reward. Every day it was the prac- 
 tice for each individual to commit a portion of Scrip- 
 ture to memory, and for the members of a family 
 to repeat it to each other in the evening. So much 
 was this custom regarded as part of the ordinary 
 business of the day, that they had a set time appointed 
 for conning the daily lesson — an hour which, though 
 every individual fixed it as suited his private conve- 
 nience, was held so precious and sacred, that no secular 
 
 * Lord Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. iii. 
 
CARE OF RELIGIOUS EDUCATION OP THE YOUNG. 47 
 
 duties, however urgent, were allowed to infringe upon 
 it; and while some, who had their time at their own 
 disposal, laid their memories under larger contribu- 
 tions, and never relaxed their efforts, till they had 
 completed the daily task they had imposed on them- 
 selves, others were obliged to content themselves with 
 such shorter passages as they could learn during the 
 intervals of labour, and amid the distractions of other 
 cares. By all classes, however, it was considered so 
 great an advantage — so desirable an attainment to 
 have the memory richly stored Avith the records of 
 salvation, that while in the lapse of time many an- 
 cient practices became obsolete, and others more suited 
 to the taste of succeeding ages were adopted into the 
 Church, this excellent custom still maintained its 
 place among the venerable observances inherited from 
 primitive times ; and the pious Christians of the first 
 centuries would have regarded it as a sin of omission, 
 for which they had occasion expressly to supplicate 
 pardon in their evening devotions, if they were con- 
 scious of having allowed a day to pass, without 
 having added some new pearls from the Scriptures 
 to the sacred treasures their memory had previously 
 amassed. 
 
 The same sense which matured Christians them- 
 selves entertained of the supreme value and incom- 
 parable excellence of the Scriptures, they laboured, 
 as might have been anticipated, to impress on the 
 younger members of their family. This duty, which, 
 in any circumstances, is generally left to mothers, and 
 which they have peculiar advantages for performing, 
 was, from the state of society and the manifold dis- 
 tractions of primitive times, devolved almost entirely 
 on the maternal care. And there is not amonsf the 
 many interesting traits of Christian character with 
 which the history of the early Christians abounds, one 
 that stands out more frequently in beautiful and pro- 
 minent relief, than the tender solicitude and the win- 
 
48 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 ning arts wLicli they employed to imbue the susceptible 
 minds of the young with the knowledge and the faith 
 of the Scripture. While they w^ere fondled on the 
 knee, and still watched by the careful eyes of their 
 nurse, the first words they were taught to lisp and 
 articulate w^ere the sacred names of God and the Sa- 
 viour. And the whole range of nursery knowledge 
 and amusement was comprised in narratives and pic- 
 tures, illustrating episodes in the life of the holy Child, 
 or parables the most simple and interesting in the 
 ministry of Christ. As their minds expanded, they 
 were taught, along with grand doctrines of Scrip- 
 ture, which, according to the approved fashion of those 
 days, were rendered familiar by apposite similitudes 
 from nature, the Proverbs of Solomon, and those pas- 
 sages of the sacred volume which relate particularly to 
 the economy of life. 
 
 Religion, in short, was the grand basis of educa- 
 tion, the only subject which, during the first years of 
 life, they allowed their children to be taught ; and in 
 order to present it to their minds with the greater 
 attractions, and entwine it with their earliest and pui'est 
 associations, they adopted the happy expedient of wed- 
 ding it to the graces of poetry, and rendering it more 
 memorable by the melody of numbers. From the ear- 
 liest period of Christian antiquity, there were authors 
 who, like Watts in modern times, '* condescended to 
 lay aside the scholar, the philosopher, and the wit, to 
 write little poems of devotion, adapted to the wants and 
 capacities of children,"* and these, set to well-known 
 and favourite airs, borrowed from the profaner songs of 
 the heathen, were sung by the Christians at their family 
 concerts, which enlivened their meals, and by which 
 alone the still and peaceful tranquillity of their homes 
 was ever broken. Ere long, their children Avere taught 
 common, and frequently short- hand writing, in lines 
 taken from the Psalms, or in words of sententious 
 
 * Dr Johnson's Life of Watts 
 
SCHOOL-BOOKS. 49 
 
 brevity, in which the leading doctrines of the Gospel 
 were stated ; and at a later period, when the progress 
 of toleration allowed Christian seminaries to he erected, 
 the school-books in use consisted chiefly of passages 
 of the Bible versified, and of the poetical pieces which 
 illustrated or enforced the great subjects of faith and 
 duty. The most celebrated of these were composi- 
 tions of the two ApoUinares, grammarians of high 
 reputation in Syria — the elder of whom, in imitation 
 of Homer, wrote the Antiquities of the Jews in heroic 
 verse, down to the reign of Saul, while the rest of the 
 sacred story he described in such metrical forms as 
 corresponded to the verses of the Greek Tragedians, 
 and the Ipical ballads of Pindar. The department 
 undertaken by his son, was tliat of reducing the 
 history of the Evangelists and the Epistles of Paul 
 into the form and style of Plato's dialogues ; and with 
 so much taste and elegance were both of these works 
 compiled, that on their first appearance they took their 
 place among the most esteemed productions of the 
 age of the Fathers.* Besides these, there was a col- 
 lection of miscellaneous poems on sacred subjects, and 
 in all sorts of verse, by the famous Gregory Nazianzen, 
 in very extensive circulation, t By means of these, 
 and of many other evangelical books which have long 
 ago become the prey of time, the Christian youth were 
 introduced to the elements of pure and undefiled reli- 
 gion, and their taste for knowledge and the beauties 
 of learning created and formed by works in which 
 salvation was held up as the one thing needful, and 
 no achievements described, no characters lauded, but 
 •such as were adorned with the fruits of righteousness. 
 Thus did the pious care of the primitive Christians 
 intermingle religion with all the pursuits and recrea- 
 tions of the young, and never allow them to engage in 
 
 • Lives of the Fathers, vol. ii. p. 276.— Quarterly Review, 1832. 
 t A book on Science and Natural History, with religious reflections, and 
 im a religious spirit, also came from the pen of the younger ApoUinaris. 
 
50 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 the study of science, or to plunge into the business of 
 the world, until they had been first taught to view 
 every thing in the spirit, and by the principles of the 
 Word of God. 
 
 There was no feature of their private manners more 
 remarkable, than the frequency with which they made 
 use of the sign of the cross. With minds filled as 
 theirs were, with lively faith in the grand doctrine of 
 redemption, and making it, as they did almost every 
 moment, the subject of their meditations, and the 
 theme of their gratitude, it is not wonderful, that they 
 should have devised some concise mode of recalling it 
 to their memories, or of expressing to each other by 
 some mutual token, the principles and hopes they held 
 in common. Accordingly, the sign of the cross 
 naturally suggested itself as an appropriate emblem, 
 and so early was its introduction among the daily 
 observances of the Christians, that the most ancient 
 of the Fathers, whose writings have descended to our 
 times, speak of it as in their days a venerable practice, 
 which, though it would be in vain to seek any Scrip- 
 tural authority for its use, tradition had authorised, 
 custom had confirmed, and faith observed.* Although, 
 however, we have no authentic account of its intro- 
 duction, we can guess at its origin. It was a beauti- 
 ful custom of those who lived while the ministry of 
 Christ was recent, and who were suddenly brought from 
 the depths of despair at his death, to indescribable joy 
 at his resurrection, to break off in the middle of con- 
 versation, and salute one another with the words, 
 " Christ is risen." The practice was peculiar to the con- 
 temporaries of the Saviour ; and it is not improbable, 
 that when time, by removing them farther from that 
 spirit-stirring event, had brought the interesting cus- 
 tom into disuse, his followers, in the next age, sought 
 to substitute in its place that, which in every variety 
 of time and circumstance, forms the chief subject of 
 
 « Tertullian. 
 
USE OF THE SIGN OF THE CROSS VERY COMMON. 51 
 
 interest in the history and religion of Jesus, and on 
 which, as the grand foundation, the whole super- 
 structure of Christian doctrine rests. Accordinglv, 
 the cross was used by the primitive Christians as an 
 epitome of all that is most interesting and important 
 in their faith ; and its sign, where the word could not 
 be conveniently nor safely uttered, represented their 
 reliance on that event which is at once the most ijrno- 
 minious and the most glorious part of Christianity. 
 It was used })y them at all times, and to consecrate 
 the most common actions of life — when rising out of 
 bed, or retiring to rest — when sitting at table, lighting 
 a lamp, or dressing themselves — on every occasion, 
 as they wished the influence of religion to pervade 
 the whole course of their life, they made the sign of 
 the cross the visible emblem of their faith. * The 
 mode in which this was done was various. The most 
 common was by dramng the hand rapidly across the 
 forehead, or by merely tracing the sign in air ; in some 
 cases, it was worn close to the bosom, in gold, silver, 
 or bronze medals, suspended by a concealed chain 
 from the neck ; t in others, it was engraven on the 
 arms or some other part of the body by a coloured 
 drawing, made by pricking the skin with a needle, 
 and borne as a perpetual memorial of the love of 
 Christ. X In times of persecution, it served as the 
 watchword of the Christian party. Hastily described 
 by the finger, it was the secret but well-know^n signal 
 by which Christians recognised each other in the 
 presence of their heathen enemies ; by which the per- 
 secuted sought an asylum, or strangers threw them- 
 selves on the hospitality of their brethren ; and nothing 
 appeared to the pagan observer more strange and in- 
 explicable, than the ready and open-hearted manner 
 in which, by this concerted means, foreign Christians 
 
 * Tertullian, Mosheim de Reb. Christ., p. 671 ; Fleurjr, Histoire Eccle«.. 
 torn. ii. p. 116. 
 
 t Hope. X Whitby and Burder on Gal, vi. 17. 
 
52 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 were received by those whom they had never previously 
 seen or heard of, — were welcomed into their homes, 
 and entertained with the kindness usually bestowed 
 only on relations and friends. * Moreover, to the 
 sacred fonn of the cross were ascribed peculiar powers 
 of protecting from evil ; and hence it was frequently 
 resorted to as a secret talisman, to disarm the ven- 
 geance of a frowning magistrate, or counteract the 
 odious presence and example of an offerer of sacrifice. 
 It was the only outward means of defending them- 
 selves, which the martyrs were wont to employ, when 
 summoned to the Roman tribunals on account of 
 their faith. It was by signing himself with the cross, 
 that Origen, when compelled to stand at the threshold 
 of the temple of Serapis, and give palm-branches, as 
 the Egyptian priests were in the habit of doing, to 
 them that went to perform the sacred rites of the idol, 
 fortified his courage, and stood uncontaminated amid 
 the concourse of profane idolaters, t But, perhaps, the 
 most remarkable instance on record of the use of this 
 sign by the primitive Christians, and of the sense they 
 entertained of its potent virtues, occurs in the reign 
 of Diocletian, when that timorous and superstitious 
 prince, in his anxiety to ascertain the events of his 
 Eastern campaign, slew a number of victims, that, 
 from their livers, the augurs might prognosticate the 
 fortunes of the war. During the course of the sacrifice, 
 some Christian officers, who were officially present, 
 put the immortal sign on their foreheads, and forth- 
 with, as the historian relates, the rites were disturbed. 
 The priests, ignorant of the cause, searched in vain for 
 the usual marks on the entrails of the beasts. Once 
 and again the sacrifice was repeated with a similar 
 result, when, at length, the chief of the soothsayers 
 observing a Christian signing himself with the cross, 
 exclaimed, " It is the presence of profane persons that 
 
 * Bingham. f Lives of the Fathers, vol. i., p. 219. 
 
SACRIFICES OF DIOCLETIAN. 53 
 
 has interrupted the rites." * Thus common was the 
 use, and thus high the reputed efficacy of this sign 
 among the primitive Christians. But it was not in 
 the outward form, but solely in the divine qualities 
 of Him M'hose name and merits it symbolized, that 
 the believers of the first ages conceived its charm and 
 its virtues to reside, t It was used by them '• merely 
 as a mode of expressing, by means perceptible to the 
 senses, the purely Christian idea, that all the actions 
 of Christians, as well as the whole course of their life, 
 must be sanctified by faith in the crucified Redeemer, 
 and by dependence upon him, and that this faith is 
 the most powerful means of conquering all evil, and 
 preserving oneself against it. It was not till after 
 times, that men began to confound the idea and the 
 token which represented it, and that they attributed 
 the effects of faith in the crucified Redeemer to the 
 outward signs, to which they ascribed a supernatural 
 and preservative power." X 
 
 Having thus far surveyed that branch of the man- 
 ners of the primitive Christians that relates more par- 
 ticularly to their domestic habits, it now only remains 
 to show how they employed those little intervals of 
 time which were not occupied either in labour or in 
 the duties of religion, and which, especially at the close 
 of the day, it has been the general custom of all ages 
 to dedicate to amusements and the pleasures of social 
 intercourse. It was undoubtedly no part of the creed 
 of enlightened Christians in those days, any more 
 than it is in the present, that innocent mirth and 
 recreations must be banished from the precincts of a 
 good man's dwelling, or that, as the followers of Christ, 
 they were called upon to abstract themselves from 
 the ordinary refinements and civilities of life. And 
 accordingly, kno^ving that the bow that is seldom 
 
 * Hai'es' Lactantius. 
 
 t The primitive Christians commonly painted the figure of Christ dying 
 on the cross on the outside of their Bibles, and this was the only ornament 
 with which they were ever gilt. t Neander. 
 
54 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 or never unstrung soon loses its native elasticity and 
 vigour, they were as ready as other men to relax 
 themselves with such pastimes as were really recrea- 
 tions, and calculated to refresh and invigorate the 
 jaded powers of body and of mind. But there were 
 some of the amusements fashionable in the private 
 circles of the day, in which neither their principles 
 nor their habits would allow them to join, — such as 
 dice, and other sedentary plays of a similar kind, 
 which they discouraged, both as being games of hazard, 
 and as too apt, from the general devotion to them, to 
 foster habits of idleness and profligacy. There was 
 a pastime of a different character, of which their 
 contemporaries throughout the Roman empire were 
 passionate lovers, and which consisted in decorating 
 the fronts of their houses with triumphal branches, 
 so as to form pleasure bowers, in which they gave 
 themselves to all sorts of diversion and merriment. 
 The refusal of the Christians to participate in this 
 elegant amusement, arose from no insensibility to the 
 beautiful productions of nature, which constituted the 
 Crand attraction of such a scene, but from its beinf; 
 connected with idolatrous festivities. We who live at 
 a period when the tone of public sentiment is all in 
 favour of the principles and practice of Christianity, 
 view such parts of their character from a point of 
 observation where we can scarcely sympathize with 
 them. Nor can we readily enter into the feelings of 
 those who moved in a state of society where every 
 element of nature was consecrated to the service of 
 paganism, and the simplest and most innocent amuse- 
 ments could not be enjoyed without offence to all 
 that is pure and holy. When they entered into 
 society, of which they were exceedingly fond, and 
 mingled either with their brethren, or such of their 
 heathen neighbours as admitted their acquaintance, 
 the chief pleasure they sought was the enjoyment 
 of rational conversation, and of that calm, silent. 
 
VERY SILENT. 55 
 
 playful mirth, which gently exhilarates the spirits. 
 But loud bursts of laughter, and all kinds of levity 
 and passionate excitement — ludicrous stories and acts 
 of buffoonery — talcs or jests bordering on indecenc}*, 
 or that ran into silly and useless badinage, found no 
 quarter in the society of Christians. And as such 
 frivolous and licentious talk was the staple discourse 
 in which the light-minded Epicurean heathens around 
 them commonly indulged, hence the habit, which be- 
 came general among the Christians, of sitting much 
 in silence. Over their whole demeanour, indeed, there 
 presided a staid and serious air, induced as well from 
 the constant necessity under which they felt themselves 
 of guarding against the extremely loose and dissolute 
 style of manners that prevailed around them, as from 
 the solemn impressions they had received from Chris- 
 tianity. But it would be wrong to suppose that they 
 were without enjoyment, or that they led a gloomy 
 and melancholy life. At a time when their contem- 
 poraries lived almost wholly out of doors, engrossed 
 with an incessant round of riot and sensual indulgence 
 — m the baths, the porticoes of the temples, and other 
 pleasure-grounds, they first created, and were the first 
 to feel all the charities that are included in the en- 
 dearing name of home, and that have made Christians 
 in every age resort to it, as the scene of the best and 
 purest enjoyments of life. If they were strangers to 
 violent and high-Avrought excitement, they were also 
 exempt from those poignant disappointments and cares 
 that often embitter the retirement of the votaries of 
 ambition and pleasure. Keeping their affections loose 
 and detached from the objects and the possessions of 
 a transitory %vorld, they were not liable to be greatly 
 annoyed by its losses and its trials ; and though the 
 simple and sober course of their e very-day life was 
 seldom or never enlivened wnth the festivities and 
 amusements by which time is killed, they had a calm, 
 tranquil, perennial flow of comforts and joys peculiar 
 
56 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 to themselves, and with which strangers could not 
 intermeddle ; so that to them were applicable the lines 
 of the poet, — 
 
 " With us no melancholy void, 
 No moment lingers unemployed 
 
 Or un enjoyed below ; 
 Our weariness of hfe is gone, 
 Who live to serve our God alone, 
 And only Jesus know." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 PRIVATE MANNERS CONTINUED. 
 
 PARTICULAR EMPLOYMENTS ABJUUED— IDOL-MAKING— ASTROLOGY AND 
 MAGIC — ACTORS— CASE OF A TEACHER OF ACTING — STORY OF A PERSON 
 BEING SEIZED WITH MORTAL SICKNESS IN THE THEATRE — GLADIATORS 
 — STORY OF ALYPIUS — CIVIL AND MILITARY OFFICES — STORY OF MAK- 
 CELLUS — PROVISION FOR SUCH AS WERE OBLIGED TO ABANDON THEIR 
 TRADE— ESPOUSALS— MARRIAGE. 
 
 The ranks of Christians, during the first ages, were 
 almost wholly filled with persons in the lower grades 
 of life, who earned their bread by the sweat of their 
 brow ; and, accordingly, we find fishermen, shoe- 
 makers, masons, tentmakers, smiths, cai-penters, me- 
 chanics of every name and every degree, among the 
 early followers of Jesus, A large proportion of these 
 were born and bred originally in circumstances that 
 obliged them to engage in trade, as a means of pro- 
 curing a livelihood for themselves and families, and 
 they, of course, repaired to their M^orkshops, and con- 
 tinued all the habits of daily labour, as well after as 
 before their conversion to Christianity. But, besides 
 those Christians who were workmen by birth and 
 necessity, there were numbers also in primitive times 
 of the higher and richer classes, who, on becoming 
 disciples of Christ, voluntarily parted with their pro- 
 perty, either from fear of the temptations incident to 
 an idle life, or from a wish to bestow their money on 
 charitable purposes, and betaking themselves to some 
 
58 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 manual occupation, lived in all respects as ordinary 
 artisans. In the selection of those trades, each, of 
 course, consulted his own taste, or was influenced by 
 the consideration of having a reasonable prospect of 
 regular and continued employment. But, along with 
 the temporal benefits of the business, they invariably 
 took into their estimate also the advantages it afford- 
 ed for the advancement of their moral and spiritual 
 interests; and no pursuit, however lucrative, no situa- 
 tion, however respectable, had any temptation in the 
 eyes of a primitive Christian, that either familiarised 
 him with scenes inconsistent with purity and virtue, 
 or could not be prosecuted without a compromise of 
 principles he accounted dearer and more precious than 
 the wealth of worlds. 
 
 Although the religion of Jesus sheds a sanctifying 
 influence over every scene and circumstance in life, and 
 there is no situation, where the seeds of piety may not 
 be sown, or the fruits of holiness spring forth and ripen 
 to maturity, yet, in every state of society, there are 
 some occupations which place more difficulties and 
 temptations in the way of cultivating the virtues and 
 practising the duties of religion than others. And 
 so far was the age of primitive Christianity from being 
 an exception, that there Avas then a great variety of 
 trades and ways of living which the Christians not only 
 avoided, from a persuasion that the daily routine of 
 such occupations would interfere with the enjoyment 
 of their faith, but against which they entered their 
 unanimous protest, as totally inconsistent with its prin- 
 ciples. Their grand rule being to make every pursuit 
 subservient to religion, and to infuse its spirit into all 
 the habits of every-day life, they were accustomed to 
 make choice of such employments only as were favour- 
 able to retirement and reflection. Into all profes- 
 sions, the duties of which required religion to be 
 banished, or allowed it to be attended to but rarely 
 and as a secondary concern, they not only declined, 
 
IDOL-MAKING. 59 
 
 and would have endured the greatest privations rather 
 than have been prevailed on to enter; but they im- 
 posed it as an indispensable condition on all new 
 converts to Christianity, who had been connected 
 with such a way of life, to relinquish their old pursuits 
 on being admitted to the Christian society. And as 
 no picture of their private manners can be considered 
 complete, that does not embrace a view of their opi- 
 nions in regard to contemporary habits, we commence 
 this chapter with an enumeration of those departments 
 in the division of ancient labour, which the primitive 
 Christians abjured and condemned. 
 
 In the foremost rank of these we place the manufac- 
 ture of idols. That employment, as might be expected, 
 was a most lucrative one, and occupied a far greater 
 number of workmen than any other business. For 
 not only were the temples, the highways, and other 
 public places of all sorts filled with statues of the gods, 
 but every family required, as an indispensable part of 
 their furniture, a suitable equipment of images — some 
 tall as the life, to grace their halls and gardens — some 
 of a portable size, as Avere the figures of the household 
 gods, and others enclosed in cameo, on their rings, 
 which they carried about with them and worshipped, 
 whenever they found occasion for the aid or protection 
 of their patron deities. The making of these gave 
 employment to carpenters, masons, jewellers, silver- 
 smiths, sculptors, and painters, besides many others. 
 At all times these found a ready sale in the market ; 
 and at certain seasons, when people were changing 
 their houses, or about to commence a household estab- 
 lishment, few things were in greater demand than 
 miniature shrines and trinket representations of the 
 objects of popular worship. 
 
 In the fabrication and the sale of these idol images, 
 multitudes of the Christians, at the period of their 
 embracing the relisrion of Jesus, were enofag-ed. Some 
 of them were bound to the trade by gratitude for the 
 
60 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 affluent circumstances to which it had raised them, 
 and more from their being unacquainted with the mys- 
 teries of any other craft, by which themselves and their 
 famihes could obtain a livelihood. But no sooner 
 were they brought to perceive the sin of " changing 
 the glory of the incorruptible God into an image made 
 like unto corruptible man," than, losing sight of all 
 inferior interests, in their anxiety to obey the truth, 
 they threw down the implements of their art, deter- 
 mined never more to pollute them in the service of 
 idolatry. They argued, that they could not, without 
 the grossest inconsistency, lift up to God the hands 
 which had been recently employed in helping the 
 cause of his enemy, nor continue even the sale of idols 
 to those who wanted them, mthout becoming partakers 
 of other men s sins. Every feeUng of their new nature 
 rose in arms against a traffic so dishonourable to God, 
 and so degrading to man, insomuch that the Christians 
 of the first age unanimously renounced all connection 
 with the unholy trade ; and there was not to be found 
 a solitary individual among them, who could have 
 been tempted by the largest bribes, or overawed by the 
 severest menaces, to carve a log, or cast a mould for an 
 image. With some Christians, however, in the suc- 
 ceeding age, the love of money prevailed over principle 
 and piety ; and in the time of Tertullian, there were 
 many who, while they professed to hold image-worship 
 in abhorrence, carried on the business of making and 
 selling idols, justifpng themselves on the ground that 
 they were simply trading as artists, and dealing in 
 works of art, without considering themselves respon- 
 sible for the purpose to which their merchandise might 
 be applied. Such a plea the zeal of an earlier and a 
 purer age would have rejected with indignation, and 
 visited the mercenary artisan with its heaviest censures. 
 Degenerate as the times were become, the tone of 
 public feeling among the Christians every where was 
 so strong and decided against any members of their 
 
ASTROLOGY AND MAGIC. 61 
 
 society engaging in such a traffic, that the business of 
 idol-making may be said to have been, during the 
 three first centuries, not only a disreputable, but a 
 forbidden trade.* 
 
 Not less so were astrology, magic, and the whole 
 tribe of similar impostures. To one ignorant of the 
 history of the ancient Greeks and Romans, it will 
 appear almost incredible how many people lived on 
 the credulity of the public, and what an infinite variety 
 of curious arts were then practised, the very names of 
 which are now altogether unknown. Besides the 
 astrologers, who, by gazing at the stars, professed to 
 ascertain the course of events on the earth below, 
 there were magicians, who performed Avonderful feats 
 of legerdemain, — soothsayers and fortune-tellers, who, 
 by'inspecting the entrails of cattle, watching the flight 
 of birds, or examining the palm of the hands, under- 
 took to reveal to their customers the prosperity or 
 adversity that awaited them, — makers of amulets to 
 hang from the neck, or of fantastic ornaments on the 
 dress, as charms against the influence of enchantment 
 or disease, — dealers in Epliesian letters, and other 
 forms of words, which were thought to possess a 
 mysterious virtue, — and an incredible multitude of 
 others, who, in a superstitious age, carried on a lucra- 
 tive trade, and were not only followed by the rabble, 
 but patronised by the great, and even retained in the 
 service of the State. All these mysteries, then such 
 fruitful sources of imposture and deceit, the Christians 
 viewed as sinful, — as ministering to an unhallowed 
 curiosity, — upholding the cause of superstition, and an 
 impious invasion of tiie province of God, who has 
 drawn a veil over the secrets of futurity ; and though 
 many of them had been initiated into the principles, 
 and engaged in the practice of these black arts, yet no 
 sooner did they perceive their vanity and unlawfulness, 
 than, without regretting the loss of their form.er gains, 
 
 * Bingham, vol. iv., p. 230; Cave's Prim. Christianity, p. lOiJ. 
 
 E 
 
62 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 they burned the books that described the mystic rites, 
 and in the study of which they had spent many a 
 guilty hour, and, renouncing the worthless pursuits, 
 made choice of occupations more in harmony with 
 their Christian principles and views. A Christian 
 continuing to follow the trade of a diviner, an astrolo- 
 ger, or a manufacturer of charms, would have been 
 a phenomenon in the first ages, — certain of being 
 recorded for the astonishment of posterity.* 
 
 The profession of an actor Avas especially proscribed 
 by the community of Christians. From the passionate 
 fondness of the ancients for shows and spectacles of 
 all kinds, the number of those wdio dedicated their 
 lives to public amusement was infinitely great. From 
 the constant demand for their performances, there were 
 few occupations by which larger sums of money were 
 drawn; and, consequently, there was an incessant 
 influx of competitors for the favour and patronage of 
 the public, to swell the ranks of the actors. Some of 
 them performed the part of buffoons, exciting the 
 laughter of the people by their antic tricks and their 
 ludicrous jokes, while others confined themselves to 
 dancing, which in those days was invariably a pan- 
 tomimic representation of some story of the quarrels or 
 amours of the gods ; some acted masquerades, — men 
 and women interchanging characters, and appearing 
 in the dress of the opposite sex, to exhibit the most 
 indecent gestures, and indulge in the most obscene 
 conversation ; while others sliowed feats of agility, 
 either by running, leaping, or racing in chariots. All 
 the departments of these public showmen were equally 
 forbidden by the Christians, Avho condemned them both 
 for the lewdness and profanity which were inseparable 
 from the exhibition, and for their well-known connec- 
 tion with the cause of idolatry ; and although some of 
 these occupations may to us, who view them from a 
 
 ^* In later times, it was extremely difficult to keep Christians from wear- 
 ing amulets. The strong denunciations of the primitive writers show how 
 deeply they were tinctured with superstition. 
 
ACTORS — TEACHER OP ACTING. 63 
 
 different point of observation, appear not essentially 
 immoral or unchristian in their nature, yet, patronised 
 as they always were, by some idol deity, and associated 
 as they always were, with scenes of the grossest licen- 
 tiousness, it is no wonder that the Christians strongly 
 forbade them to all who belonged to their society. 
 Indeed, they could not have done otherwise than dis- 
 countenance such occupations; for actors, however 
 much they were applauded in the theatres, were 
 regarded, even by virtuous and enlightened heathens, 
 as a degraded and infamous class of men, — so much 
 so, that they were excluded from the honours and 
 privileges "which were free and open to all other citi- 
 zens ; and hence the Christians, who professed a higher 
 tone of morals than the best of the heathen, had no 
 alternative but to prohibit all within the pale of the 
 Church from entering on an employment, the mem- 
 bers of which were held in such low estimation. 
 
 The prohibition was extended to the private teach- 
 ers of the histrionic art. In early times, the case 
 occurred of a Christian, who had been on the stage 
 himself, engaging to give lessons to boys and young 
 men destined to the profession he had formerly prac- 
 tised. The feelings of his Christian brethren were 
 deeply wounded by his unexpected procedure ; and 
 Cyprian, bishop of the Church, within whose bounds 
 this breach of propriety was committed, gave his 
 opinion, that the backslider must either relinquish 
 his intended instructions, or be considered as having 
 fallen from his Christian principles.* The ban was 
 eyen laid on several civil appointments of high respec- 
 tability and influence, because the individual holding 
 them was officially called to provide, from time to time, 
 a public exhibition of games and spectacles for the 
 amusement of the populace. Such being the views 
 entertained by the Christians of the disreputable nature 
 of an actor's profession, it is not to be wondered at that 
 
 * Cyprian. Epist. vi. 
 
64 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 the same feelings were extended to the scene of his 
 performances ; and accordingly, from the earliest times 
 of the Church, the theatre Avas looked upon by the 
 generality of Christians as a place which it was a 
 scandal to their name and character to frequent. The 
 avowed subserviency of the institution to the cause of 
 idolatry, — the improper and disgusting nature of many 
 of the exhibitions, — the vicious and abandoned char- 
 acters introduced on the stage, and held up in the most 
 captivating colours to the approbation of the audience, 
 — the indecent intermixture of men and women, and 
 the voluptuous scenes which, through a thousand 
 channels, addressed themselves to the senses, and 
 inflamed the passions; — these, not to speak of the 
 tumultuous riot inseparable from the place, — of the 
 idle and disorderly habits it engendered, and of the 
 insatiable taste it created for an incessant round of 
 frivolous and high-wrought pleasure, made the theatre 
 altogether unfit for the presence of those who pro- 
 fessed to walk by faith and not by sight, — not to be 
 lovers of pleasure more than lovers of God, and to 
 make it the grand end and aim of their being, to live 
 to the glory of God, and in the practice of holiness 
 and virtue. In short, they viewed the theatre as a 
 school of immorality and vice, where there was not 
 only much to be seen and heard, grossly offensive to 
 their moral and religious feelings, but into which it 
 was scarcely possible to enter without receiviog some 
 contamination ; and hence it was not uncommon for 
 new converts to Christianity to discover their change 
 of views to the Avorld by a discontinuance of their 
 attendance on the public spectacles. Notwithstanding 
 this prevailing opinion of its unlawfulness, hoAvever, 
 there were some Christians who, under the influence 
 of universal fashion, and from the force, perhaps, of 
 their ancient habits and predilections, allowed them- 
 selves, in opposition to their better judgment, to repair 
 to the theatre ; and the effects of such stolen visits on 
 
GLADIATOltS. 65 
 
 persons of a weak and nervous temperament, were not 
 only to inflict wounds on their minds, wliicli long after 
 annoyed them, and made memory a curse, but were 
 sometimes most alarming and disastrous to their life 
 and health. One woman, who had privately gone to 
 the theatre, was carried home in the wretched state of 
 one possessed by a demon ; and when attempts were 
 made to exorcise the spirit, and he was interrogated 
 how he dared to take possession of the soul of a Chris- 
 tian, the answer returned, either by him or the dis- 
 tressed woman, who supposed she was speaking in 
 name of the evil spirit, was, " I was perfectly at liberty 
 to seize her, as she had come within the precincts of 
 my own dominions." Another woman, after retiring 
 from the theatre, was awe-struck by a fearful vision 
 in the night, and, probably in consequence of the 
 agitation into which she was thrown, died a few days 
 afterwards.* These distressing effects, of which many 
 other instances could be adduced from the records ot 
 primitive times, evidently arose from the violent con- 
 flicts of conscience in minds strongly impressed with 
 the sinfulness of theatrical amusements, and yet desti- 
 tute of suflicient strength of principle to resist their 
 temptation. But there were many cases, at the same 
 time, of a different description, — of persons who, 
 though witnessing a good confession, yet indulging 
 in the public spectacles without any symptoms of pain 
 and remorse, were, through an increasing fondness 
 for dramatic shows, involved again in the vortex of 
 paganism. When we consider either of the unhappy 
 results now described, we cannot but perceive and 
 admire the Christian wisdom and prudence, that 
 required all who named the name of Christ, to stand 
 aloof from these haunts of folly and sin. 
 
 But there were none of the pursuits of their con- 
 temporaries, to which the Christians were so inve- 
 terately opposed, as to the profession of gladiators, — 
 
 * TertuUian, quoted by Bingham, Cave, and Neander. 
 
66 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 those men wlio fought on the sands of the amphi- 
 theatre, — who, infamous as they were by character 
 and habit for barbarous and brutal cruelties, sought 
 glory in belabouring one another with all the parade 
 of science, and were neither more nor less than a 
 class of legalised murderers. There can scarcely be 
 a more striking proof of the influence of custom in 
 deadening the feelings of our moral nature, than that 
 nations so highly advanced in civilization and refine- 
 ment as the ancient Greeks and Romans, should 
 countenance and establish such a savage species of 
 amusement ; and yet so passionately fond were they 
 of these exhibitions, that all classes repaired in crowds 
 to the amphitheatre, when a show of gladiators was 
 expected. Business was suspended, and every other 
 pastime forgotten. Men of the first rank and char- 
 acter — orators, senators, and philosophers, — viewed 
 them with the highest interest ; and even the hands 
 of the gentler sex were always conspicuous in giving 
 the tokens of praise or disapprobation of the comba- 
 tants. These sanguinary spectacles it was impossible 
 that the Christians could sanction with their presence. 
 No sooner was Christianity known in the world, than 
 it vindicated the rights of humanity by the condem- 
 nation of gladiatorial shows ; and during the whole 
 of the three first centuries, we find its adherents 
 maintaining unqualified opposition both to the spec- 
 tacles themselves and to the professional actors in the 
 bloody scenes. It was the more necessary for the 
 Christians to assume a decided tone in regard to these 
 degrading amusements, that education, and the pre- 
 vailing style of manners, led some to cherish a han- 
 kering after the forbidden indulgence, — by yielding 
 to which the most lamentable effects resulted to the 
 purity and stedfastness of their Christian character. 
 One anecdote of this kind, that has been recorded, is 
 too remarkable to be omitted. Alypius, one of the 
 most intimate friends of Augustine, was in the habit 
 
STORY OF ALYPIUS. 67 
 
 of expressing more frequently and loudly than most 
 other people, his horrid detestation of gladiatorial 
 combats. An invitation Avas one day given him by 
 some of his acquaintances to accompany them to the 
 amphitheatre, but he refused to be a spectator of the 
 inhuman sports. Their entreaties were urgent and 
 unremitting that he should go ; and they at length 
 drew him to the place of exhibition against his will. 
 They had scarcely taken their seats, when the games 
 commenced. Alypius, horror-struck at finding him- 
 self in such a situation, was most anxious to leave 
 the amphitheatre. But finding it impossible to press 
 through the crowd, he shut his eyes, that objects so 
 detestable might not deaden his feelings, and conta- 
 minate his mind. " Would to God," says Augustine, 
 who relates the story, " that he had stopped his ears 
 also." For, on hearing a loud cry, he allowed himself 
 to be overcome by curiosity, and opened his eyes to 
 ascertain what occasioned it, flattering himself that he 
 still retained the power of shutting them at pleasure. 
 Ofie of the gladiators had received a severe wound, 
 which was apparent to the whole assembly by the 
 crimson stream that issued from the naked body of 
 the miserable man. Alypius saw it, but instead of 
 instantly withdrawing his eyes from the painful spec- 
 tacle, he gazed as if he had been ri vetted to the spot. 
 From that moment he became an enthusiastic admirer 
 of these brutal contests. His character and habits 
 underwent a complete change ; his frame was con- 
 vulsed with ecstasy when he saw a fresh pair of 
 combatants enter the lists ; his shouts, the clapping 
 of his hands, and his whole deportment, arrested the 
 attention of the bystanders, and he retired from the 
 amphitheatre with so violent a passion for gladiatorial 
 shows, that he not only determined next day to return 
 himself, and feast bis eyes with the sanguinary game, 
 but used all his influence to inspire others with a 
 similar taste. The case of this man, who not only 
 
68 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 professed, but had once given good reason to believe 
 that he felt, the power of Christian principle, aifords 
 a melancholy example of the weakness of the best re- 
 solutions to overcome the force of strong temptations ; 
 and, at the same time, a striking proof of the wisdom 
 of the Christians in discouragino; a taste for this 
 favourite, but seductive and criminal amusement of 
 the times.* 
 
 Their views respecting the lawfulness of holding 
 civil and military offices were influenced by circum- 
 stances somewhat different from those which led them 
 to condemn the pursuits we have just enumerated.t 
 Many were in the ranks, at the time of their conver- 
 sion to Christianity, "who continued in the military 
 profession after a change had taken place in their 
 religious principles ; and there is no evidence that, at 
 any one period in the course of the three first centuries, 
 the general body of Christians maintained there was 
 any essential incompatibility between the spirit of the 
 Gospel and the life of a soldier. But in the peculiar 
 circumstances of the world at that time, Avhen idolatry 
 pervaded all the political and social institutions of life, 
 the duties of Christianity were often at variance with 
 the requirements of the State ; and in no profession 
 so much as in that of soldiers, Avho were more imme- 
 diately under the eye and command of the emperor, 
 were such collisions apt to occur. When mounted 
 guard at the palace or the temples, during the cele- 
 bration of the public festivals, and in going through 
 the holida}'- parade, that graced the anniversary of 
 an imperial birth- day, they were often required to 
 
 • Tertullian tells us, that more persons were deterred from embracing 
 Christianity by the fear of losing their pleasures, than from the danger 
 with which their lives were threatened. — Nea7ide7; p. 64. 
 
 t Some Chrislians, in later times, justified themselves in frequenting 
 shows of gladiators, by the plea that it was criminals only who were made 
 to tight. Even that ground is not tenable, as it is a most unchristian thing 
 to derive pleasure and entertainment from the violent death of a criminal ; 
 but there is good reason for thinking that the lists of combatants were not 
 made up solely of persons condemned to die. Men were trained for the 
 bloody sport, — slaves were often compelled to engage in it, — Christians 
 were sometimes selected for it. 
 
MILITARY LIFE — STORY OF MARCELLUS. 69 
 
 participate in the ceremonies of the heathen religion ; 
 and in all such cases, the Christians were unanimous 
 that they should abandon the service, and surrender 
 the brightest prospects of promotion, rather than be 
 guilty of any breach of fidelity to the Captain of their 
 salvation. Hence proceeded the impressive reply, 
 made by a youth who was ordered to enrol himself — 
 " I am a Christian, and therefore I cannot fight ; " 
 and hence was occasioned the still more famous con- 
 duct of Marcellus, who, while all his companions were 
 busied in assisting at the sacrifices during a festival 
 in the reign of Gallienus, threw away his vine-branch 
 and his armour, exclaiming, " I will not fight any 
 longer under the banner of your emperor, or serve your 
 idols of wood and stone. If there is no alternative 
 for a soldier, but either to sacrifice to gods and em- 
 perors, or resign his commission, I abandon the vine- 
 branch and girdle, and renounce the service for ever." 
 The noble officer forfeited his life by this courageous 
 adherence to his principles, and multitudes of obscurer 
 followers of Jesus shared a similar fate by their resist- 
 ance, or were deterred from entering the ranks from the 
 dread of being appointed to such idolatrous services. 
 These difiiculties, incident to the military profession 
 in the first ages of the Church, gave rise to a much 
 agitated question, whether, supposing no duties to be 
 imposed on a soldier of an antichristian or a sinful 
 nature, it was consistent with the principles of the 
 Gospel to bear arms in any circumstances. Some 
 there w^ere, who, never anticipating the possibility of 
 Christianity and the State being in any other than 
 hostile relations, imbibed the opinion, that their reli- 
 gion forbade them to enlist in the service of their 
 country; and, in support of this practice, were ac- 
 customed to allege that the weapons of their warfare 
 were not carnal but spiritual, — that Christ declared, 
 that all they who fight with the sword shall perish 
 by the sword, — that many passages of Scripture, taken 
 
70 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 in their plain and literal acceptation, condemned 
 those grosser passions and that tumultuous strife which 
 are engendered in a camp, — and that they could serve 
 the emperor, and be beneficial to their country more 
 effectually, by praying for their prosperity and deli- 
 verance from intestine and foreign enemies, than by 
 vt'ielding the w^eapons of war. Others, again, while 
 they denied that Scripture contains any express pro- 
 hibition against the exercise of arms in the public 
 service, defended the lawfulness of accepting military 
 offices by the examples of many pious men in the Old 
 Testament history, — by the conduct of the Baptist 
 towards the soldiers who repaired to his ministry, and 
 whom he exhorted to be content with their wages, 
 without hinting at the necessity of their changing 
 their way of life, — and by the strict discipline of the 
 Roman army, which was favourable to the practice of 
 Christian temperance and virtue. The question was 
 one that arose out of the peculiar circumstances of 
 the times, and it need not surprise us to find, that 
 on a subject of this nature, a variety of discordant 
 opinions were entertained and acted on by men, with 
 whose judgments many elements of feeling and of 
 prudence must have mingled, to prevent them from 
 forming a dispassionate opinion on the general prin- 
 ciples of Christianity. To us, who view it from so 
 diflferent a point of observation, — who know that, 
 even amid all the infelicities of a military life. Chris- 
 tian piety and virtue may flourish, and that in every 
 age of the Church, and in none more than the pre- 
 sent, there have been men who blended, in happiest 
 union, the firmest courage of the soldier with the deep 
 and ardent devotion of the saint, their scruples may 
 appear unreasonable and groundless. But we must 
 remember, that they were scruples felt only by a few, 
 though some ancient writers, ignorant of their prin- 
 ciples, fastened them on the whole body of primitive 
 Christians ; and that even in the case of those who 
 
PROVISION FOR ABANDONING CERTAIN TRADES. 71 
 
 doubted the lawfulness of the military profession, their 
 peculiar views, mistaken and erroneous though they 
 were, and springing, as they did, from a conscientious 
 regard to the authority of the Scriptures as their grand 
 and only rule, entitle their character to our estimation, 
 far above those who enter on the life of a soldier, or 
 undertake the duties of other situations, uninfluenced 
 by any principle but the pliant and accommodating 
 motive of interest,* 
 
 For the multitudes of Christians who, either volun- 
 tarily, or in compliance with the established views of 
 their brethren, abandoned any of the professions to 
 which we have alluded, some provision Avas obviously 
 necessary, until they had acquired the knowledge 
 of some other trades by which themselves and their 
 families might obtain a livelihood. And accordingly, 
 it was customary to receive such persons into the 
 number of the poor, and supply their necessary wants 
 from the common funds of the Church, until they 
 were again in circumstances to support themselves. 
 If they were in a remote province, where the brethren 
 were few, and the Christian treasury ill able to bear 
 the burden, a contribution was levied on the benevo- 
 lence of the neighbouring churches, so that every 
 facility was afforded to the disciples of Jesus in those 
 primitive times, to change a profession, or a mode of 
 living, which their Christian principles Avould not 
 allow them to continue. And a sentence of excom- 
 munication might, with the greatest propriety, be 
 pronounced on all who, in such circumstances, refused 
 to separate themselves from forbidden society. 
 
 The same pure and high-toned principles that led 
 them to regulate their habits of living, as well as their 
 choice of a profession, by the rules of Christianity, 
 reigned no less, as might have been expected, over 
 their conduct in the highest and most important 
 
 ♦ Their ideas respecting the lawfulness of Christians holding a civil office 
 in a heathen State, were influenced by the same views as those which 
 governed them in regard to the mihtary profession. 
 
72 PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 relation — marriage. It is true that, from the earliest 
 times, there were some who preferred to lead a single 
 life ; and that, at the beginning of the second century, 
 there was an increased number, both of men and 
 women, then living in a very advanced age, who, 
 with a view of keeping themselves undistracted by the 
 cares of the world, and giving their minds, with de- 
 voted ardour, to religious meditation and prayer, had 
 declined to enter into the state of matrimony.* But 
 by far the greater part of the primitive Christians were 
 married ; and it is no small testimonv to the consist- 
 ency of marriage with a free and full profession of the 
 Gospel, that a people so distinguished as they were 
 for their attention to all the proprieties of Christian 
 conduct, very generally gave it the sanction of their 
 example. With them, however, it assumed a very 
 difterent aspect from that in which the nuptial relation 
 was found among the heathens ; for, while the latter 
 looked on it as a mere worldly compact, entered into it 
 commonly from low and selfish motives, and scrupled 
 not to dissolve it on the most frivolous pretexts, — the 
 former regarded it as a spiritual union, cemented by 
 the most sacred sanctions, continued by the purest and 
 holiest feelings, and destined to exercise a most im- 
 portant influence on the character and interests of 
 husband and wife for ever. And, according to this 
 view, no state could afford so full a scope for the ex- 
 ercise of every Christian disposition and virtue, as that 
 in which two persons, united not only in the same 
 condition, but in holding the same faith, offering the 
 same prayers, and employing the same means of grace, 
 passed their lives in mutual edification and encourage- 
 ment, and in preparing to enjoy an eternity of blessed- 
 ness together. The ends of this spiritual union were 
 
 * It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to remind the reader of the wide 
 difference between those who, in the first ages of Christianity, voluntarily 
 chose to remain unmarried, and those who, in a later and superstitious 
 age, bound themselves by a public vow, and as a meritorious end, to lead 
 a life of celibacy. 
 
ESPOUSALS — MARRIAGE. * 73 
 
 fully answered, when the persons between whom that 
 relation was formed were both converted to Christi- 
 anity. But, unhappily, it was no unfrequent occurrence 
 in those days for one of the parties to become a Chris- 
 tian, while the other adhered to all the abominations 
 and vices of idolatry ; in which circumstances, there 
 was no alternative but for the ncAv convert to remain 
 contented and resigned in the married state — to abound 
 in the peace and charity of the Gospel, and to wait in 
 tiiith and patience the course of events, as Providence 
 might please to order them. But when that relation 
 had yet to be formed, it would have been the height of 
 imprudence and folly voluntarily to bring oneself into 
 a position so inimical to domestic peace, as well as to 
 the exercise and enjoyment of religion. Accordingly, 
 it was an early and established custom with the pri- 
 mitive Christians to discourage such unequal matches ; 
 and as the counsel of the pastor, as well as the consent 
 of the parents, had to be obtained previous to marriage, 
 it is probable that the necessity of their united sanction 
 arose from a prudent and pious desire to prevent the 
 unhappy consequences of intermarrying with infidels, 
 and to lead Christians to unite themselves only with 
 adherents of the same faith. ''^ 
 
 The first step towards marriage among the primitive 
 Christians, was the espousals. This betrothment was 
 nothins: more than a formal agreement between the 
 persons who had formed the purpose of maiTying, made 
 in the presence of witnesses, the number of whom was 
 usually not less than ten, and ratified by pledges given 
 by the man, viz., a ring, engraven with some figure 
 emblematical of a Christian virtue, and a solemn kiss, 
 which was a token very much in use among the Chris- 
 tians. On the lapse of two years, which was the usual 
 duration of the espousals, the time for maiTiage arrived ; 
 and as the primitive Christians were anxious to en- 
 courage the idea of its being a spiritual union, the rite 
 
 » Near.der. p. 318. 
 
74 • PRIVATE MANNERS. 
 
 was celebrated by the pastor in the church. The hair 
 of the bride being untied — for all unmarried women 
 had their foreheads bound with a purple fillet * — a 
 veil was thrown over her person ; and, after having 
 received suitable admonitions, and partaken of the 
 communion together, they were required to join their 
 right hands, when the minister pronounced them to 
 be married persons, and invoked a blessing on their 
 new relation. The conclusion of the service was 
 announced by their being adorned with garlands of 
 flowers, emblematical of the virtue and innocence of 
 the parties ; and in that festive attire the procession 
 moved homewards. The evening was closed with 
 the marriage- feast, at which the relations and nearest 
 friends only of the bridegroom and bride were present ; 
 and which was characterised by all their usual sobriety 
 and temperance — not without being enlivened, at the 
 same time, by the flow of that innocent cheerful mirth, 
 in which, on proper occasions, none were so ready to 
 indulge as the primitive Christians, t 
 
 * Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. iii. — Notes. 
 
 t At the marriage-feasts of the heathen, the grossest excesses were 
 committed. Players were hired for the occasion, who sung and acted all 
 •orts of obscenities. The company gave way to universal intemperance ; 
 and, so long as they were able, kept up a course of leaping, dancing, and 
 riot, too indecent to be described. It is needless to say, that all these 
 were banished by the Christians. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 MUTUAL LOVE AND CONCORD OF TUB PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS— CARE OF THE 
 POOR — CONTRIBUTIONS BY FOREIGN CHURCHES— STORY OPNUMIDIAN 
 CAPTIVES — CARE OP THE SICK — FEMALE VISITORS — PARABOLANI — CON- 
 TRAST BETWEEN THE BENEVOLENCE OF CHRISTIANS AND THE SELFISH- 
 MESS OF HEATHENS— STORY OF THE PLAGUE IN CARTHAGE— AND IN 
 ALEXANDRIA— STORY OF PAULINUS — CARE OF CHRISTIAN PRISONERS- 
 STORY OK PEREGRINUS — CHRISTIANS IN THE MINES— CARE OP THE 
 SPIRITUAL INTERESTS OF MEN — VARIOUS MANIFESTATIONS OF CHRIS- 
 TIAN BENEVOLENCE— MEANS OF SUPPORTING IT— STORY OF A PERSON 
 BEQUEATHING MONEY TO THE POOR — LOVE-FEASTS — HOSPITALITY — 
 SALUTATIONS — OATHS — STORY— PATIENCE IN BEARING INJURIES — 
 LOYALTY — TRIBUTE TO THE SOCIAL VIRTUES OF THE PRIMITIVE CHRIS- 
 ^ANS BY TWO HEATHEN EMPERORS. 
 
 Among the various features in the character of the 
 primitive Christians, there is none that so eminently 
 claims our admiration as their mutual love. All the 
 details transmitted to us of their social Intercourse, and 
 of their public conduct, bespeak the lively operation 
 of this Christian spirit. And Avhen we read of the 
 delightful harmony and concord that reigned in their 
 assemblies, their ready disposition to render to every 
 one his due, — the high condescending to those of low 
 degree, — the poor giving the tribute of their respect to 
 those whom Providence had placed in a more exalted 
 station, — and all vying, with amiable rivalry, to pro- 
 mote each other's happiness and welfare, we perceive 
 the strong grounds of the proverbial observation of 
 the heathen, " Behold how these Christians love one 
 another ! " Not only when they were small in numbers, 
 
76 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 and, meeting together almost daily, were well known 
 to each other, did this admirable affection prevail 
 among them, hut how widely soever they might be 
 separated, the ardour of their love suffered no diminu- 
 tion ; and, forgetting every other distinction in that of 
 being the followers and friends of the Saviour, they 
 sympathized in each other's joys and sorrows. What- 
 ever blessing one of their number had received, was a 
 subject of lively gratitude to all ; and whatever cala- 
 mity had befallen a single member, spread a gloom over 
 the whole community. Bound to each other by ties 
 infinitely holier and dearer than any that belong to the 
 world, they looked upon themselves as members of 
 the same common family. Every time that they met, 
 either in their own houses or in their public assemblies, 
 they interchanged the kiss, as a badge of fellowship, 
 and token of the warmest affection. Though totally 
 unconnected by ties of consanguinity, they addressed 
 each other, according to their respective age and sex, 
 by the name of father, mother,* brother, sister. Though 
 naturally separated by distinction of rank and diversity 
 of colour, nothing could cool the ardour, or prevent 
 the reciprocities of their mutual love. The knowledge 
 of the simple foct, that any one was a follower of 
 Jesus, changed him at once from a stranger into a 
 friend ; creating a union between them not to be 
 described by the cold selfish friendship of the world ; 
 and to them belongs the peculiar distinction of realiz- 
 ing a state of society which many philosophers had 
 often delighted to picture to their fancy, and wished 
 for in vain, — tlie idea of a community united by no 
 other bond than the golden chain of universal love. 
 
 One very remarkable way in Avhich this love mani- 
 fested itself, was in the care they took of their poorer 
 brethren. Among them, as in every association of 
 men, the needy and destitute were found. The duty 
 
 * A Christian husband did not give the name of mother to his wife, how- 
 ever far advanced in Ut'e she might be. She then received the appellation 
 of sister. — Turner's Calumnies on the Primitive Christians accounted far. 
 
CAEE OF THE POOR. ^ 77 
 
 of providing for these was not left to the gratuities of 
 private individuals, whose situation gave tlieni opportu- 
 nities of ascertaining, and whose benevolence prompted 
 them to relieve, their necessities. It devolved on the 
 whole community of believers, who regarded it not 
 as a burden, but a privilege, to minister to the wants 
 of those who bore the image of Christ ; and by their 
 unwearied attentions to the discharge of this labour 
 of love, they made the light of their liberality and 
 benevolence so shine, as t) command the admiration 
 even of the cold and selfish heathens around them. 
 As duly as the Sabbath returned, and as soon as they 
 had brought their sacred duties to a close, the lists of 
 the poor, the aged, the widows, and the orphans, were 
 produced for consideration ; and, as if each had been 
 hastenintr to brine; forth the fruits of faith, and to 
 prove the sincerity of that love they had just professed 
 to their Saviour by the abundance of their liberality 
 to his people, they set themselves to the grateful task 
 with a zeal and enthusiasm, whose fresh and unabated 
 vigour betrayed no symptoms of their having already 
 been enjiajTed in a lengthened service. The custom 
 was for every one in turn to bring under public notice 
 the case of a brother or sister, of whose necessitous 
 circumstances he had any knowledge, and forthwith 
 a donation w^as ordered out of the funds of the church, 
 which the voluntary contributions of the faithful 
 supplied. No strong or heart-stirring appeals v/ere 
 necessary to reach the hidden source of their sym- 
 pathies ; no cold calculations of selfish prudence regu- 
 lated the distribution of their public alms ; no fears 
 of doubtful propriety suggested delay for the consi- 
 deration of the claim ; no petty jealousies as to the 
 preference of one recommendation to another, were 
 allowed to freeze the genial current of their charity. 
 By whomsoever the case was recommended, or in 
 whatever circumstances the claim was made, the hand 
 of benevolence had answered the call almost before 
 
78 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 the heart found words to express its sympathy, and 
 with a unanimity surpassed only by their boundless 
 love, they dealt out their supplies from the treasury of 
 the church whenever there was an object to receive, 
 or a known necessity to require it. Where the poor 
 in one place were numerous, and the brethren were 
 unable, from their limited means, to afford them ade- 
 quate support, they applied to some richer church in 
 the neighbourhood ; and never was it known in those 
 days of active benevolence, that the appeal was fruit- 
 lessly made, or coldly received. Though they had 
 poor of their own to maintain, neighbouring and 
 foreign churches were always ready to transmit con- 
 tributions in aid of the Christians in distant parts, 
 and many and splendid are the instances on record of 
 ministers and people, on inteUigence of any pressing 
 emergency, hastening with their treasures for the rehef 
 of those whom they had never seen, but with whom 
 they were united by the strong ties of the same faith 
 and hopes. Thus, when a multitude of Christian men 
 and women in Numidia had been taken captive by 
 a horde of neighbourinfr barbarians, and when the 
 churches to which they belonged were unable to raise 
 the sum demanded for their ransom, they sent deputies 
 to the church that was planted in the metropolis of 
 North Africa ; and no sooner had Cyprian, who was 
 then at the head of it, heard a statement of the dis- 
 tressing case, than he commenced a subscription in 
 behalf of the unfortunate slaves, and never relaxed 
 his indefatigable efforts, till he had collected a sum 
 equal to eight hundred pounds sterling, which he for- 
 warded to the Numidian Churches, together with a 
 letter full of Christian sympathy and tenderness.* 
 
 But the primitive Christians were not content with 
 conveying their eleemosynary aid through the publio 
 
 * Cyprian, Fpist. CO.— Gibbon states the sum to have been exactly 
 £65l).~£>iclme and Fall, clia|i. xv. ; but others make it less than that 
 ^Amount.— Kjan's Efiects of Ueligion on Mankind. 
 
CARE OF THE SICK — FEMALE VISITORS. 79 
 
 channels of the church. To thcni it appeared a sacred 
 duty to countenance tlie poor with their presence and 
 their purse in their own homes, where they could i);ake 
 more minuter inquiries into their wants, and tender 
 them thii comforts of (Christian sympathy and counsel, 
 which, hy tiie brethren both of high and low degree, 
 were more highly prized than even the open-handed 
 benevolence that ministered to their temporal neces- 
 sities. This pious office was more especially delegated 
 to the female members of the community, as it was 
 thought, both from the delicate nature of the embassy, 
 and from the jealous spirit of ancient society, they 
 possessed facilities of access to the domestic privacy of 
 all classes, denied to their brethren of the other sex. 
 And exemplary was the prurience and fidelity with 
 which they discharged their trust. Every moment 
 they could spare from the prior claims of their own 
 houseliold, the Christian matrons devoted to those 
 errands of mercy ; and, while they listened to the 
 widow's tale of other days, and her traits of the friend 
 who had gone to his rest, — or saw the aged in their 
 hut of })overty, bending under the weight of years, — or 
 sat by the bedside of the afflicted, and those that were 
 ready to diC; — or found, as was frequently the case, 
 the helpless babe, which the frigid heart of a pagan 
 mother had exposed and forsaken in the lonely path, 
 they provided for the wants of each, and administered 
 appropriate comforts both for the body and the soul.* 
 But these were light and easy attentions compared 
 with the duties which their charitable mission fre- 
 quently imposed on them. In those days there were 
 no public institutions for the reception of the poor, and 
 for the medical treatment of the diseased ; and as there 
 were few or none among the heathen in private life, 
 who ever thought of entering the abodes of poverty 
 and sickness, and helping their neighbours, — such 
 was the cold and unfeeling selfishness of the heathen 
 
 * Ryan's Effects of Religion ; Gibbon's Decline and Fall. 
 
80 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 world, — the Christians were never without objects, in. 
 every form of human wretchedness, tov/ards whom 
 their benevolence was required. Indeed it is almost 
 incredi])le to what offices the ardour of their Christian 
 spirit led them to condescend. They, though all of 
 them were women moving araid the comforts of 
 domestic life, and some of them ladies of the highest 
 rank, never inured to any kind of labour, scrupled not 
 to perform the meanest and most servile offices that 
 usually devolved on the lowest menial. Not only did 
 they sit by the bedside of the sick, conversing with 
 and comforting them, but with their own hands 
 prepared their victuals, and fed them, — administered 
 cordials and medicine, — brought them changes of 
 clothing, — made their beds, — dressed the most repul- 
 sive and putrefying ulcers, — exposed themselves to 
 the contagion of malignant distempers, — swaddled the 
 bodies of the dead, — and, in short, acted in the char- 
 acter at once of the physician, the nurse, and the am- 
 bassador of God. Their purse and their experience 
 were always ready, and the most exhaustiog and dan- 
 gerous services were freely rendered by these Christian 
 women. In process of time, however, as the Christian 
 society extended its limits, and the victims of poverty 
 and sickness became proportionally more numerous, 
 the voluntary services of the matrons were found in- 
 adequate to overtake the immense field ; and hence, 
 besides the deacons and deaconesses who, at a very 
 early period of the Church, were appointed to super- 
 intend the interests of the poor, a new class of office- 
 bearers arose, under the name of Parabolani, whose 
 province it was to visit and wait on the sick in malig- 
 nant and pestilential diseases. These, whose number 
 became afterwards very great — Alexandria alone, in 
 the time of Theodosius, boasting of six hundred, — 
 took charge of the sick and the dying, under circum- 
 stances in which, v/hiJe it was most desirable they 
 should have every attention paid to them, prudence 
 
STORY OF THE PLAGUE IN CARTHAGE. 81 
 
 forbade mothers and mistresses of families to repair to 
 them ; and thus, while the heathen allowed their poor 
 and their sick to pine in wretchedness, and to die be- 
 fore their eyes, unpitied and uncared for, there was not, 
 in the first ages, a solitary individual of the Christian 
 poor who did not enjoy all the comforts of a temporal 
 and spiritual nature that his situation required.* 
 
 It was not, however, only to the poor of their own 
 churches that the benevolence of the primitive Chris- 
 tians showed itself. Never, perhaps, was the clear 
 and lively principle of their character more strikingly 
 exemplified than in the appearance of any of those 
 calamities — famine or pestilence — with which the an- 
 cient world was so frequently visited. In the accounts 
 that have reached us of those terrible catastrophes, 
 mention is invariably made of a sad corruption of 
 morals accompanying them, — the heathen became des- 
 perate and reckless amid the fearful ravages made in 
 their ranks, — their sensibilities were deadened, and a 
 most unnatural and cold-blooded indiflPerence shown 
 to the claims of their nearest relatives and friends. 
 In the midst of all these disorders, the benevolence of 
 the Christians exhibited an extraordinary contrast to 
 the unfeeling selfishness of their heathen neighbours. 
 Thus, for instance, during the plague that so long and 
 severely afflicted Carthage, in the time of Cyprian, 
 he and the rest of the Christians were indefatigable 
 in their exertions for the relief of the afflicted ; and, 
 while the heatli?n abandoned the sick and dying to 
 their fate, — while the highways were strewed with 
 corpses which no one had the courage or the public 
 spirit to bury, and the hardened survivors were intent 
 only on pilfering the clothes and the chests of the dead, 
 the Christians were constantly facing the danger, busy 
 on the streets or in the houses, distributing money or 
 articles of food and clothinc:, and doinsr all in their 
 power to alleviate the pangs of the sufferers, and 
 
 * Cave's Primitive Christianity, part iii. Bingham, vol. ii. p. 4S. 
 
82 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 soothe the last moments of the dying. Nor was their 
 benevolence confined to the sick members of their own 
 community, — they extended tlieir attentions indis- 
 criminately to all ; and, while the heathen stood aloof 
 and careless, parents deserting their children, and 
 children trampling on the unburied corpses of their 
 parents, the Christians were assiduously employed in 
 the pious labour of interring them, — the rich contri- 
 buting their money, and the poor their labour, to clear 
 the houses and the streets from the effluvia of the 
 mouldering relics of mortality, and adopt the most 
 prudent precautions to free the city from the farther 
 ravages of the pestilence/"" 
 
 In like manner, when the Roman empire, especially 
 that part of it that lay in the east, was overtaken, in 
 the reign of Gallienus, by the simultaneous calamities 
 of plague, famine, and earthquake, the calm forti- 
 tude and unswerving resignation of the Christians, — 
 their indefatigable benevolence towards all who were 
 seized by the dreaded sickness, and the kind sym- 
 pathizing attentions they bestowed on them, at the 
 risk of their own lives, Avere very strikingly exempli- 
 fied in Alexandria, the chief seat of the disasters. In 
 a letter of Dionysius, who was then pastor of the 
 church in that city, a most impressive account is given, 
 of which we subjoin a translation : — That pestilence 
 appeared to the heathen as the most dreadful of all 
 things, — as that which left them no hope ; not so, 
 however, did it seem to us, but only a peculiar and 
 practical trial. The greater part of our people, in the 
 abundance of their brotherly love, did not spare them- 
 selves ; and, mutually attending to each other, they 
 cheerfully visited the sick without fear, and ministered 
 to them for the sake of Christ. Many of them died, 
 after tlieir care had restored others from the plague 
 to health. The best among our brethren, priests and 
 
 * Life of Cyprian ; also Burton's Lecture on the Ecclcs. Hist, of the 
 Second and Tliird Centuries, 
 
STORY OF PAULINUS. 83 
 
 deacons, and some who were celebrated among the 
 laitv, died in this manner ; and such a death, the fruit 
 of great piety and strong faith, is hardly inferior to 
 martyrdom. Many who took the bodies of their 
 Christian brethren into their hands and bosoms, closed 
 their mouth and eyes, and buried them with every 
 attention, soon followed them in death. But with 
 the heathen matters stood quite differently; at the 
 first symptom of sickness, they drove a man from their 
 society, they tore themselves away from their dearest 
 connections, they threw the half dead into the =a-eets, 
 and left thousands unburied, — endeavouring, by all 
 the means in their power, to escape contagion, which, 
 notwithstanding: all their contrivances, it was very 
 difficult for them to accomplish.* 
 
 In those days, there were calamities of a different 
 kind from famine and pestilence, that no less tried 
 and displayed, in a captivating light, the benevolence 
 of the primitive Christians. The land was desolated 
 by frequent wars, — the seas were infested with horrid 
 piracies, by both of which multitudes were carried 
 into a distant and wretched captivity. Every fresh 
 occurrence of such calamities moved the compassion 
 of the Christians, and roused them to extraordinary 
 exertions, which were often rewarded by the ransom 
 and happy deliverance of thousands. It would fill 
 a volume to describe the efforts which the benevo- 
 lence of the Christians made in the cause of these 
 unhappy exiles ; and, therefore, we shall content 
 ourselves with the relation of one single anecdote 
 illustrative of them, and too romantic to be passed 
 without notice. During the persecution raised by the 
 Vandals in Italy, numbers of Christians who had been 
 carried captive into the wilds of Africa, had been 
 redeemed from bondage by the splendid liberality of 
 an opulent man — Paulinus. Among those whom the 
 expenditure of his princely fortune had not been able 
 
 * Neander, p. 283,— Rose's Translation. 
 
84 SOCIAL MANNERB. 
 
 to ransom, was the only son of a widow, who, in the 
 bitterness of her disappointment, undertook a toilsome 
 journey to wait upon Paulinus, and prevail upon him 
 to bestow upon her the comparatively small sum that 
 was necessary to purchase the freedom of one young 
 man. With tears Paulinus was obliged to tell her 
 that he had akeady parted with his all, but that he 
 was ready and willing to surrender himself as a slave 
 in place of her son. The resolution, strange as it was, 
 this benevolent man lost no time in carrying into 
 effect. He set sail in company with the widow for 
 Africa, and made directly for the palace of the prince 
 in whose service the v»oman's son was a slave, and 
 having offered himself and been accepted in the boy's 
 stead, the woman and her ransomed child returned 
 to their home in Italy, while the generous deliverer 
 remained in humble servitude, till the prince, discover- 
 ing his real character, and admiring his extraordinary 
 disinterestedness, at length restored him to liberty.* 
 
 The benevolence of the primitive Christians being 
 thus readily, and on all occasions, exerted in the cause 
 of suffering humanity, it need not surprise us that the 
 most frequent and distinguished objects of it were the 
 sufferers for righteousness' sake. ^lany of these were 
 immured in prisons ; and no sooner did Fame spread 
 abroad the sad intelligence that one of them was lying 
 in the dungeons of a city, than the Christians of the 
 place flocked in crowds to the doors of the cell, begging 
 admission. Patiently did they bear the caprice and 
 rebuffs of the surly guards and jailors ; — anxiously did 
 they resort to every means of conciliation, by persua- 
 sions, entreaties, and bribes ; — often, when all proved 
 fruitless, did they lie for days and nights together 
 outside the walls of the dungeon, praying for the de- 
 liverance, or for the happy and triumphant exit, of the 
 imprisoned confessor. If admitted, as thej^ sometimes 
 were, the brethren, most of whom were always women, 
 
 * Bingham, Cave, Ryan. 
 
CHRISTIANS IN THE MINKS. 85 
 
 carried with them bods, materials of food, clothing, 
 and fuel, — they kissed their chains, -washed their feet, 
 and rendered them all the most tender and endearing 
 offices they could tliink of. Witness the well known 
 case of the impostor Peregrinus. This person, who 
 lived in the second century, had been obliged to flee 
 from his native country, Armenia, on account of some 
 great crime, and having settled in Judea, became ac- 
 quainted with the principles of the Gospel, appeared 
 an illustrious penitent, and made public profession of 
 the faith. His fame as a Christian spread far and 
 wide, and when his religious tenets brought him the 
 distinction of imprisonment, the Christians, deeply 
 afflicted at his fate, made extraordinary efforts to 
 procure his release. These, however, proving unsuc- 
 cessful, they strove to mitigate the evils of confinement 
 by loading him with every attention. At break of 
 day, numbers of old women, widows, and orphans, 
 were seen surrounding the walls of the prison, their 
 hands filled with every delicacy, and even with large 
 sums of money, which the liberality of foreign Chris- 
 tians had sent to them for their support.'"' 
 
 But many of the sufferers for the cause of religion, 
 instead of being thrown into prison, were sent to 
 labour like slaves, in distant and unwholesome mines. 
 Thither the benevolence of their brethren followed 
 them, and never were contributions more frequently 
 aud liberally made by the Christians, than when they 
 were destined for the relief of the mutilated martyrs, 
 who laboured amid the darkness and the noxious 
 vapours of these subterranean dungeons. Nay, many 
 even undertook long and toilsome pilgrimages, in order 
 to comfort and support those victims of oppression with 
 their Christian sympathy ; and in the performance of 
 the pious journeys, encountered perils, amid which, 
 nothing but benevolence of the purest and most ex- 
 alted character could have preserved their resolution 
 
 • Fieury, p. 228. 
 
B6 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 firm and unshaken. A party of Christians, for in- 
 stance, set out from Egypt in the depth of winter, to 
 visit their brethren in the distant mines of CiHcia. 
 Some of them, when the object of their visit became 
 public, Avere arrested on their arrival at Cesarea, and 
 had their eyes pulled out, and their feet dislocated. 
 Others shared a worse fate at Ascalon, being burnt 
 or beheaded. Various companies, who successively 
 went from different quarters, on the benevolent errand 
 of expressing their sympathy with the interesting 
 miners, prosecuted their undertaking amid similar 
 dangers. But nothing could repress the ardent wish 
 to pour the balm of consolation into the hearts of men 
 who Avere suffering the worst species of slavery for the 
 sake of the truth. And highly were those honoured 
 who lived to tell the tale that they had seen the mar- 
 tyrs in the mines, — to describe how they toiled, and 
 wrought, and bore the chain, — and to carry, above 
 all, the glad tidings of the fortitude, the patience, 
 resignation, and Christian joy with which they en- 
 dured their hard lot. 
 
 There was one other manifestation of the benevolence 
 of the primitive Christians, that deserves a particular 
 notice, — their love for the souls of men. It was a 
 remarkable feature of their character, and though 
 inseparable from the anxiety they displayed on every 
 occasion to promote the best interests of men, it yet 
 occupied exclusively the minds of some of them, and 
 gave rise to exertions which nothing but interests of 
 eternal moment could ever have originated. Not to 
 speak of those who dedicated themselves to the preach- 
 ing of the Gospel, there were many in private life who 
 expended every thing they could spare from the bare 
 support of life on the purchase of Bibles, and on every 
 suitable occasion distributed them to the poor — a gift, 
 the value of which cannot be estimated, without taking 
 into consideration the scarcity and the immense price 
 which in those days a single copy of the Scriptures 
 
MANIFESTATIONS OF CHRISTIAN BENEVOLENCE. 87 
 
 cost.* But, besides this excellent species of charity, 
 ■which many of the wealthier Christians devised for 
 themselves, there Avere others, Avho involuntarily sub- 
 mitted to the most extraordinary sacrifices, with the 
 generous view of briniiinfj men from darkness to light, 
 and from the power of Satan unto God. One man, 
 for instance, is recorded to have sold himself into the 
 family of a heathen actor, and continued for years 
 cheerfully performing the most servile offices, till, hav- 
 ing been the honoured instrument of converting the 
 husband and wife, and Avhole family to Christianity, 
 he received from the grateful converts the reward of his 
 liberty. And not long after, during a visit to Sparta, 
 the same individual learniiio- that the fjovernor of that 
 city had fallen into dangerous errors, offered himself 
 again as a slave, and continued for two years in that 
 humble and ignominious situation, when his zealous 
 efforts for the conversioii of his master being crowned 
 with fresh success, he was treated no longer as a ser- 
 vant, but a brother beloved in tlie Lord.t 
 
 Time would fail us to enumerate all the various 
 channels through which the benevolence of the primi- 
 tive Christians flowed. Some dedicated themselves 
 to the task of searching out desolate orphans, helpless 
 widows, unfortunate tradesmen, and heathen found- 
 lings — in those times the most numerous class of un- 
 fortunates. | Some carried their charity so far as to sit 
 on the highways, or hire persons whose ofhce was to 
 perambulate the fields, for the purpose of directing 
 wanderers, and especially benighted travellers, into the 
 way; while others delighted to lead the blind, to suc- 
 cour the bruised, and to carry home such as were lame, 
 maimed, and unable to walk.§ 
 
 Various were the sources whence the Christians 
 
 * Lifeof Pampliilus.— Evancel. Mag.. 18r9. t Cave's Primitive 
 
 Christianity, part iii. % Haiks' Cluistian Antiquities, vol. iii. p. 73, 
 
 § Bingliam, Flsury. It may be proper to add, that tfie fea:Tie benevo- 
 lence and charity were shown to the heathens as to the Christian poor and 
 destitute. 
 
S8 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 drew the ample means necessary to enable them to 
 prosecute so extensive a system of benevolence. The 
 most steady and available fund was the common 
 treasury of the Church, which was supplied every 
 Sabbath by the voluntary contributions of the faith- 
 ful, and out of which there was a weekly distribution 
 of alms to multitudes of widows, orphans, and old 
 people, who were stated pensioners on her bounty. 
 In cases of great or public calamity, fasts were ap- 
 pointed, which, by the saving effected in the daily ex- 
 penses of all, even of the poor, were an approved and 
 certain means of raising an extraordinary collection, 
 and when that was found insufficient to meet the 
 emergency, it not unfrequently happened that the 
 pastors sold or melted the gold and silver plate that 
 had been presented to their churches for sacred pur- 
 poses.* Many persons, too, were in the habit of ob- 
 serving in private, quarterly, monthly, or weekly fasts, 
 on which occasions, they either took little food or none 
 at all, and transmitted the amount of their daily ex- 
 penditure to the funds of the Church, while others 
 voluntarily bound themselves to set aside a tenth part 
 of their income for the use of the poor, and placed it, 
 in like manner, in the Church's treasury. Besides, 
 there were many wealthy individuals who, on their 
 conversion to Christianity, from a spirit of ardent 
 gratitude to the Saviour, sold their estates, and betak- 
 ing themselves to manual labour or to the preaching 
 of the Word, devoted the price of their property to 
 benevolent purposes.t Others, who gave up their 
 patrimony to objects of Christian benevolence, chose 
 to retain the management in their own hands ; as for 
 example, a rich merchant who, with part of his money 
 built a spacious house, and with the rest of it enter- 
 tained all strangers travelling in his neighbourhood, 
 
 * Bingham, vol. ii. p. 2'59; Cave's Primitive Christianity, part iii. 
 t Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. ii. p. Ill ; Bingham, vol. ii. p. 270; 
 vol. iii. p. 49-53; Reury, p. 191. 
 
A PERSON BEQTTEATHING MONEY TO THE POOR. 89 
 
 took charge of the sick, supported the aged and infirm, 
 gave stated alms to the poor, and on every Saturday 
 and Siihbath caused several tables to be furnished for 
 the refreshment of all ^vho needed his bounty. This 
 voluntary surrender of property v>as very common in 
 the early ages, and in the great majority of cases this 
 step, doubtless, \vas dictated by a spirit of Christian 
 sincerity and love. But many inconveniences were 
 apt to result from these public bequests to the families 
 and friends of the generous donors, and hence the 
 pastors, in their anxiety to prevent the least appear- 
 ance of evil, and to countenance no proceeding, though 
 tending to increase their treasury, but what was just, 
 honest, and of good report, often refused to accept of 
 estates that were offered them, or restored them again 
 to the surviving relations of the testator, of which the 
 following may be given as an instance : — A certain 
 man having no children, and no prospect of a family, 
 destined his whole patrimony for the benefit of the 
 poor, only reserving to himself the use of it so long as 
 he lived. It happened that, after this destination of his 
 fortune, he became the father of a numerous family, 
 in consequence of which the Bishop of Carthage 
 generously restored to him the unconditional use of 
 his estate, and gave up all right to it in preference to 
 the natural claims of his children. 
 
 Another story to the same effect may be subjoined, 
 on the authority of Jerome, who had a personal know- 
 ledsre of the circumstances he details. A Christian in 
 
 O 
 
 Egypt made a public announcement that lie purposed 
 to dedicate his estate to the cause of Christian phi- 
 lanthropy. At his death, which happened not long 
 after, it was discovered that he had secretly reserved a 
 part of his fortune for his own private use, — a reserva- 
 tion which, although he had a perfect liberty to make, 
 if his intentions had been declared, became stamped 
 with a character of moral guilt, after he had professed 
 to dispose of the whole of his money for the support 
 
90 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 of the poor. Fame was not long in publishing this 
 fraud to the world, and the Christians of the place, 
 sensitively alive to the stain which such hypocrisy 
 would cast on their name, resolved to give so strong 
 and decided an expression of their sentiments as would 
 prevent all imputations on the honour of Christian 
 benevolence. A public meeting was held, at which 
 a great multitude of persons were present, to deliberate 
 on what was best to be done in the circumstances; 
 and, while some proposed that the money so fraudu- 
 lently hoarded should be remitted to the parents of 
 the deceased, and a few suggested that it should be 
 thrown into the treasury along with the rest he had 
 formerly bequeathed, the voice of an inmiense majo- 
 rity prevailed, — that it should be buried in the grave 
 of the owner, and that their sentence should be 
 recorded in these memorable words : " Thy money 
 perish with thee."* So far were the primitive Chris- 
 tians from proclaiming it to be a duty for the rich to 
 part with their possessions, or fiom encouraging the 
 transference of them to the treasury of the Church, that 
 their pastors, most eminent for piety and zeal, often 
 seized opportunities of restoring such {is had been 
 alienated, to the family and heirs of the owner; — so 
 anxiously did they endeavour, at a time Avhen the 
 benevolence of some Christians was assuming a roman- 
 tic character, and ambition was prompting others to 
 signalise their names by deeds of splendid liberality, to 
 discountenance all donations for benevolent and Chris- 
 tian purposes, except such as were proved to be the 
 honest ar»d free-will offerings of faith and love, t 
 
 A distiriguishing feature in the social manners of 
 the primitive Christians was the love-feast. It was a 
 banquet at which persons of all classes in the Chris- 
 tian community sat down in familiar company, — the 
 
 * Bingha m, vot. iii. p. 50. 
 
 t It was from their uiibo'.mded benevolence thnt tlie disciples were called 
 by tlie heathens, as TertuUian informs us, not Christ aiii, but Chreetiani, 
 from a word signifying sweetness of disposition.— //a^j" i>.-r?nons. 
 
LOVE- FEASTS. 91 
 
 pastor and his deacons, the aged believer and the 
 voung disciple, the opulent professor and the poorest 
 of the flock. No seats of honour were appropriated 
 to those that were in othce, — no invidious line of 
 distinction separated the occupiers of the head, from 
 those who were placed at the bottom of the table. 
 It was a feast of ciiarity ; not, however, in the com- 
 mon sense of the term, as if it were a splendid and 
 public entertainment which the wealthy gave to their 
 needier brethren, and which they condescended to 
 countenance and grace with their presence, but, in the 
 literal acceptation of the word, a perfect community 
 of enjoyment, in which they met together as brethren, 
 forgetting all other distinctions but their common union 
 in the faitli and service of Christ. And thoujjh it was 
 not properly a religious festival, yet, celebrated as it 
 general!}^ Avas, after the close of public worship, — • 
 when the minds of all w^cre fresh from the impression 
 of its solemn services, it was sanctified and endeared by 
 all that is sublime and interesting to tlie feelings in the 
 religion of Jesus. The way of providing and conduct- 
 ing this supper was as follows : The rich brought a 
 supply of provisions with them, and when the solem- 
 nities of worsiiip were over, they spread a table in the 
 church, on which the voluntary contributions of all 
 were laid; and, after a fervent invocation of the divine 
 blessing on their social meeting, the viands were dis- 
 tributed to the guests. Every one ate and drank at 
 discretion, but the strictest temperance was observed. 
 And, indeed, this simple repast was so regulated, that 
 it was impossible, in early times, for any excesses to 
 be committed. During the whole continuance of the 
 festival they joined in edifying and Christian conver- 
 sation, — the richer and better educated kindly mingling 
 with their poorer brethren, and encouraging them to 
 state their sentiments freely on every subject. At a 
 convenient part of the evening, some one gave a short 
 exhortation to unity and brotherly love; and, after 
 
02 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 others had entertained the company with the singing 
 of a psalm, or some sacred piece of his own composi- 
 tion, and they had joined together in prayer, they all 
 retired to their several places of abode. It was a beau- 
 tiful practice, indicating, not indeed a golden age of 
 purity, but a state of society w^here, to a great extent, 
 the discinles, acting in the character of their earUest 
 predecessors, were of one mind and one spirit, and 
 loved to proclaim to the world that the distinguishing 
 badge and motto of their community was, — " By this 
 shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye love 
 one another." But this interesting custom, in the hands 
 of Christians that did not carry to its observance the 
 pure and exalted feelings that influenced their ances- 
 tors, soon degenerated from its primitive character, and 
 became the occasion of many excesses ; so that, from 
 being first prohibited to be held in churches, it was 
 afterwards found expedient to ol)serve it only on rare 
 occasions, till at length it fell totallj^ into disuse, and 
 is now associated almost exclusively with the memory 
 of the early age that gave it birth.* 
 
 It is impossible to speak in terms of less admiration 
 of the hospitality exercised in that age towards Chris- 
 tian strangers. The followers of Christ, how widely 
 soever they were scattered throughout the world, were 
 then united as one great family, and agreeing, as ihey 
 did, in the happiest spirit of concord, to regard any 
 local varieties of custom as matters of indifference, kept 
 up a constant and friendly correspondence with all 
 the branches of the Church universal, so that, when- 
 ever any of them went abroad, either on their own 
 private affairs, or on missions connected with the state 
 and progress of religion, they were received with open 
 arms by the Christians of the place as brethren. Go 
 under whatever name they might, and travel to the 
 remotest places, among people of foreign manners and 
 
 * Mosheira on the affairs of Christians, p. 151 ; Halkett's Notes on 
 Scripture Texts; Edinburgh End., art. Agape; Fleury's Eccles. Hist., 
 torn. i. p. 54. 
 
HOSPITALITY. 93 
 
 an unknown tongue, the pilgrims of the faith were 
 sure, whenever they met with a Christian, to find a 
 friend, whose house would be thrown open for their 
 reception, Avhose table would be spread for their en- 
 tertainment, and who would welcome them with a 
 warmer heart and a kindlier smile, than they were 
 often met with by their kinsmen and acquaintance at 
 home. In the eyes of the unconverted, it seemed an 
 inexplicable mystery, that men, who, as Jews, had felt 
 a contempt for all other people, and, as Gentiles, 
 would not enjoy the hearth in common with strangers, 
 should be on terms of the closest friendship with 
 Christians indiscriminately, of every colour and of 
 every name ; and they looked upon it as accomplished 
 by some secret token, — the watchword of a deep and 
 wide-spread conspiracy, — when they saw the hand of 
 fellowship given, and the rites of hospitality performed 
 by such people to foreigners, whose person and char- 
 acter had been previously unknown to them. The 
 heathen knew nothing of those inward feelings, that 
 brotherly love, that fellowship of the Spirit, which 
 created between the Christian spiritual ties, indepen- 
 dent alike of the natural and political boundaries of 
 the earth ; and one manifestation of which was their 
 pleasure and their readiness to open their doors, and 
 render every hospitable attention to those of the same 
 faith from all quarters of the world. The way was 
 for a traveller, on arriving at any town, to seek out 
 the church, in or a1)out which liberal accommoda- 
 tion was always provided, both for the temporal and 
 spiritual comforts of the wayfaring man. But it was 
 seldom that the burden of lofljjinQ; him was allowed to 
 be borne by the common funds of the church, — for no 
 sooner was the news of his arrival spread abroad, than 
 the members vied with each other which should have 
 the privilege of entertaining the Christian stranger at 
 their homes ; and whatever was his rank or calling, 
 he soon found himself domiciled with brethren, whose 
 
 a 
 
94 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 circumstances were similar to his own. A minister 
 was entertained by one of his own order ; a mechanic 
 by one of the same craft or station ; and even the 
 poorest would have been readier, and have counted it 
 a greater honour, to share his hut and his crust with a 
 disciple like himself, than to have sat at table vdth 
 the emperor of Rome. In course of time, however, 
 this generous and open-hearted hospitality was abused. 
 Persons unworthy to enjoy it — spies and impostors, 
 under the assumed name of Christians — introduced 
 themselves to the brethren in distant places, and by 
 misrepresenting afterwards what had been told them 
 in the unsuspecting confidence of brotherhood, and 
 circulating calumnies prejudicial both to individuals 
 and to the body of Christians at large, threatened to 
 bring on the Church a variety of e^'ils, — not the least 
 of which would have been, that of putting an end to 
 the ancient kindly intercourse with Christian stran- 
 gers, had not a plan been happily devised, and intro- 
 duced into universal practice, by which travellers 
 were known at once to be good men and true. The 
 plan was this : every one, on setting out on a journey, 
 was furnished by the minister of the church to which 
 he belonged witli a letter of credence to the spiritual 
 rulers of the place Avhere he meant to sojourn, the 
 presentation of which having satisfied them as to his 
 Christian character, was instantly followed by a wel- 
 come invitation to partake of the hospitality of the 
 church or the brethren. To prevent forgeries, these 
 letters v^ere folded in a particular form, which procured 
 them the name of literce formatcF^ besides containing 
 some secret marks within, by which the Christians 
 of foreign parts knew them to be genuine. By these 
 testimonials, slightly varied in external appearance 
 according to their several purposes, — such, for instance, 
 as their certifying the bearer's claim merely to the com- 
 mon entertainment of Christians, or his right to parti- 
 cipate in all the privileges of the church, or his being 
 
BALUTATIONS. 95 
 
 sent on some embassy pertaining to the common faith, 
 — Christians were adniitted to the fellowship of their 
 brethren in all parts of the world, — were treated by 
 the family that received them as one of themselves, — 
 had their feet washed by the wife on their first arri- 
 val, and at their departure Avere anxiously and ten- 
 derly committed to the Divine care, in a prayer by the 
 master of the house. This last was a never-failing 
 part of the hospitality of the times ; and to have be- 
 trayed any symptoms of preferring the temporal good 
 cheer of the friendly host to his parting benediction, 
 would have been a death-blow to the farther credit of 
 the stranger. 
 
 In the general intercourse of society, the primitive 
 Christians, acting according to the rules of Scripture, 
 were careful to render to all their dues; honour to 
 whom honour is due, tribute to whom tribute, and 
 to practise every thing that is just, honest, and of 
 good report. Their salutations to one another were 
 made by imprinting on each other's cheek a kiss — the 
 token of love — the emblem of brotherhood ; and this, 
 except in times of trouble and persecution, when they 
 hastily recognised each other by the secret sign of the 
 cross, was the constant and the only form observed 
 by Christians when they met together. It was prac- 
 tised in their private houses, at their public meetings, 
 and, indeed, on all suitable occasions, though it was 
 considered better and more prudent to dispense with 
 it on the public streets, to avoid giving unnecessary 
 offence to their heathen fellow-citizens. Whenever 
 they met their pastor, they were accustomed, from the 
 earliest times, to bow their heads to receive his blessing, 
 — a ceremony which, in later times, when increased 
 respect was paid to the clerical order, was accompa- 
 nied with kissing his hands and embracing his feet.* 
 In their intercourse with their heathen friends and 
 acquaintjfnce, they studiously observed all the forms 
 
 * Bingham, vol. i, p. 121. 
 
96 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 of courtesy as far as circumstances allowed. But in 
 the language of familiar life, the terms of affection 
 and respect were so interwoven with those of worship, 
 that the customary expressions which friends addressed 
 to each other at meeting and parting, could not have 
 heen used without some offensive allusion to the gods; 
 hence the Christians adopted a simpler, and, in their 
 view, a less exceptionable way of conveying their 
 friendly wishes and regards, corresponding nearly to 
 our "How do you do?" and "Farewell." But the 
 peculiarity was exceedingly distasteful to all, even to 
 the most peaceable and candid of the heathens, and the 
 interchange of civilities among Christians appeared to 
 them cold and stiff, compared with the easy and lively 
 forms of speech, which, from their infancy, they had 
 been taught to consider sacred and inseparable from 
 the sentiments of love and kindness. 
 
 In their transactions of business, and engagements 
 of every kind, the primitive Christians were uniformly 
 guided l)y integrity and uprightness. Detesting all 
 embellishments in conversation, they trained them- 
 selves to the habit of using no words, either more or 
 less, than were absolutely necessary to convey an in- 
 telligible idea of their meaning ; and so far were they 
 from approving or practising the Jesuitical art of men- 
 tal reservation, that they would not have swerved a 
 hair's -breadth from the truth, though their life might 
 have been saved by a word. Many instances of their 
 inflexible regard to truth at all hazards, occurred in 
 times of persecution; and, "when the heathens charged 
 them with folly, that they would so resolutely suffer, 
 when a parcel of fair words might make way for them 
 to escape, — telling them, it was but saying as they 
 were bid,i — and that they might secure their con- 
 sciences by mental reservation, they replied, that they 
 counted it impious in any way to dissemble or deny 
 the truth, and scorned to live upon any terms, by 
 which they were forced to maintain their lives by lies 
 
OATHS STORY. 97 
 
 and falsehood."* So proverbial, indeed, were they for 
 plain and honest dealing, that after their character 
 and moral habits became known, their mere affirma- 
 tion was considered a sufficient guarantee of the truth; 
 and to put a Christian to his oath, was an extreme 
 measure, never resorted to but on rare and special emer- 
 gencies. The Christians themselves, however, were 
 far from deeming it unlawful to take an oath on just 
 and necessary occasions. Some of them, indeed, were 
 so greatly afraid of being led, by any train of circum- 
 stances, to any thing bordering on the heinous sin of 
 perjury, that they declined on that ground to take an 
 oath. But the generality of them approved of the 
 principle, and had no objections to bind themselves 
 by the formality of an oath, when that solemnity was 
 requisite for " confirmation's sake, as an end of all 
 strife." The form in which Christians were required 
 to swear, was, by God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit, 
 to which they generally added, the majesty of the 
 emperor, " as being," says an ancient author, " next to 
 God to be loved and honoured by mankind ;" f and to 
 give greater solemnity to this oath, they were accus- 
 tomed frequently to accompany it with the commu- 
 nion. The person who administered the oath, took 
 the hand of the swearer in which he held the sacra- 
 mental elements, and joined it in his own, or he made 
 him approach the communion table, and, laying his 
 hand on the holy Gospels, take the oath in that 
 solemn manner.^ The following story affi3rds an in- 
 teresting example of this : — In the year 259, in the 
 reign of Gallienus, a lucrative office fell vacant at 
 Caesarea, to which a highly qualified person of the 
 name of Marinus was about to be promoted, when 
 one of the disappointed candidates gave information 
 that he was a Christian. It was at that time unlaw- 
 
 * Justin Martyr, quoted by Cave. Primitive Christianity, part iii.chap. i. 
 t Vegetius, quoted by Cave. Primitive Christianity, part iii. chap. i. 
 I Ibid. 
 
9S SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 ful for a Christian to be in office ; and the judge having 
 made inquir)% and found that Marinus was an ad- 
 herent of the forbidden faith, gave him a respite of 
 three hours, to determine Avhether he would abandon 
 his rehgion, or forfeit his Hfe. During that awful in- 
 terval, the bishop of Cfesarea obtained an interview 
 with him, and carrying him into the church, offered 
 him the choice of a Bible or a sword. Without hesi- 
 tation he laid his hand on the Scriptures, and being 
 thus solemnly sworn to remain stedfast and immove- 
 able in the cause of Christ, he forthwith left the 
 church, repaired to the tribunal of the praetor, and 
 announcing that he had bound himself by an oath to 
 continue a Christian, w^as ordered for execution on 
 the spot. 
 
 Their patience in bearing injuries w^as singular, and 
 it was as singularly tried. An opportunity will occur 
 in a future part of this volume to specify their trials ; 
 but, in the meantime, let the reader place himself, by 
 an effort of imagination, in the state of society in 
 which the Christians lived ; let him figure to his mind 
 an humble, unobtrusive, and peaceable, but somewhat 
 peculiar class of people, surrounded on all sides by 
 multitudes knowing little or nothing of them or their 
 principles, and from the little they knew, feeling a 
 sovereign contempt for both, which the heathen were 
 allowed with impunity to take every opportunity of 
 expressing, by jostling them on the streets, pointing 
 to them with the finger of ridicule, addressing them 
 by cant terms of reproach, and persecuting them by a 
 thousand petty annoyances in every-day life, and he 
 will form some idea of the severe ordeal to which the 
 patience of the primitive Christians was daily sub- 
 jected. But inured as they were to calumny and re- 
 proach, and taught to expect these as the inheritance 
 in this life of all who will live godly in Christ Jesus, 
 they bore them with meekness, and sought deliverance 
 from the maUce of their enemies by no other weapons 
 
PATIENCE IN BEARING INJURIES. 99 
 
 than that of exemplifying the excellence of their prin- 
 ciples by the dignified and holy propriety of their 
 lives. Their property, their liberty, and even their 
 lives, they freely surrendered, rather than lose that 
 peace of mind which they found in the performance 
 of Christian duty, or suffer those principles to be 
 violated, Avhich they valued more highly than their 
 dearest possessions. Some of them, indeed, from a 
 mistaken interpretation of several passages of Scrip- 
 ture, carried their views of Christian obedience so far, 
 as when smote upon the one cheek, to turn the other, 
 and when robbed of their coat, to give the cloak also. 
 But the great majority of them, more wisely consider- 
 ing these as proverbial forms of speech, designed to 
 inculcate a general spirit of patience and forbearance, 
 scrupled not to defend themselves from violence and 
 rapine whensoever assailed, — to avail themselves of 
 the protection and redress of their wrongs, which the 
 laws of their country afforded, — and to assert, as Paul 
 did before them, when occasion required, the rights 
 of citizenship against the arbitrary procedure of the 
 magistrates themselves. In matters of dispute, how- 
 ever, between one another, the Christians seldom or 
 never resorted to the tribunals of the heathen depu- 
 ties, but w^ere in the habit of submitting their subjects 
 of contention to the arbitration of some of their Chris- 
 tian brethren.* From the earliest times, this office 
 of arbiter was, by common consent, devolved on the 
 pastors of the Church ; and hence, as the degree of 
 respect and veneration in which the sacred order was 
 held, increased rather than diminished in the succeed- 
 ing centuries, and as such unbounded confidence was 
 placed in their Christian wisdom and impartiality, 
 that all parties were disposed cheerfully to acquiesce 
 in the awards of the spiritual judges, — one constant 
 source of employment to the bishops of the primitive 
 church was the determination of secular causes referred 
 
 * Bingham, vol. i. p. 112; also vol. ii, p. 294. 
 
100 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 to them by the members of their flock. Ambrose 
 and Augustine have both left it on record, that they 
 devoted the early part of every day to hearing and 
 considering the disputed points on which they were 
 requested to sit in judgment. Such being the popular 
 influence of the Christian ministers, and the good 
 eficcts of the prudence, mildness, and integrity that 
 characterised their arbitrations being so manifest, the 
 power was legally conferred on them, after the estab- 
 lishment of Christianity, of deciding all secular and 
 other causes, with the exception of criminal cases 
 alone, which, as more immediately affecting the peace 
 and tranquillity of the State, the emperors reserved to 
 themselves and their deputies. 
 
 With such a disposition to lead quiet and peaceable 
 lives, it may be anticipated that another eminent fea- 
 ture in their social manners was loyalty to the public 
 authorities. Their grand principle was to unite the 
 fear of God with honour to the king ; and, indeed, 
 among the millions that owned subjection to the Roman 
 yoke, there was no class of subjects that excelled or 
 equalled the Christians in willing and faithful obe- 
 dience to the laws and institutions of the empire. The 
 will of the Caesars was their law ; and never did they 
 hesitate a moment to comply Avith the imperial orders, 
 except in the case of those urgent and tyrannical edicts 
 which enjoined them to participate in the service of 
 idolatry. In the time of Pliny, for example, the love- 
 feasts cele1)rated by the Christians of Palestine had 
 given umbrage to that governor, on account of a pre- 
 vailing suspicion that they had been instituted for the 
 promotion of political objects, and were secret nurseries 
 of sedition and crime. The Christians knew that 
 they were harmless meetings, and were, moreover, 
 strongly attached to them as admirable schools for the 
 exercise of Christian piety and love. But no sooner 
 had the proclamation of the emperor reached them, 
 enjoining the immediate suppression of these assem- 
 
LOYALTY. 101 
 
 Hies, than, knowing that their compliance, however 
 painful, did not involve any direct violation of their 
 fidelity to Christ, they unanimously resolved to dis- 
 continue them.* Moreover, it is a remarkable fact, 
 that the ancient historians, pagans though they were, 
 and glad of every circumstance that could throw a 
 stain on the religion of Jesus, do not mention a soli- 
 tary case of a Christian being brought to punishment 
 for any crime but that of his religion. Although, dur- 
 ing the three first centuries, the imperial throne was 
 filled by a Nero, a Cciligula, and a Domitian, and their 
 reigns were disturbed by many intestine disorders ; 
 although conspiracies were formed in the palace, mu- 
 tinies broke out among the soldiers, and insurrections 
 w^ere organized and headed openly by the most power- 
 ful men of the times, wearied with the enormities, and 
 impatient for the death of the inhuman tyrants, yet no 
 Christian was ever found in the ranks of the disaffected, 
 or was known to countenance, in any way, their 
 deeds of violence and insubordination. Let the rulers 
 have been ever so profligate, and their administrations 
 ever so tyrannical, the Christians set no limits to their 
 civil obedience, except it interfered with the claims of 
 religion ; and although they formed a numerous body 
 in all parts of the empire, and multitudes served in 
 the army, which was then the grand arbiter of the 
 destinies of the world, they never took advantage of 
 their numbers, nor used their arms in any office but 
 that of executing the commands and supporting the 
 throne of their legitimate ruler. Nay, they made it a 
 prominent part of their sacred service, in the weekly 
 assemblies, to pray for governors, and for all in authority 
 over them ; and not content with praying for the preser- 
 vation of their life and the prosperity of their govern- 
 ment, they acted on the principle of giving to Cesar 
 the things that were Cesar's, as sacredly as on that of 
 giving to God the things that were God's. This was 
 
 • Fleury, Moeurs des Chretiens, chap. xiii. 
 
1 02 SOCIAL MANNERS. 
 
 a maxim frequently on their lips ; and sooner would 
 a Christian trader have seen his business decline, and 
 himself reduced to beggary, than have polluted his 
 shelves with contraband merchandise, — sooner would 
 a Christian family have wanted the veriest necessaries 
 of life, than have allowed any smuggled articles to 
 appear at their table. Instead of attempting to evade 
 the imposts, which the profligate expenditure of the 
 government had then made oppressivel}'^ heavy, or 
 giving false or unfaithful returns to tbe local boards 
 of excise, they shrunk from the idea of defrauding the 
 revenues in the smallest item of their consumpt that 
 was taxable ; and so exemplary was their fidelity in 
 this respect, that they could appeal to it as a matter 
 of public notoriety. " For your taxes and tributes," 
 says Justin Martyr, " we, more than all other men, 
 are ever ready to meet the demands of your collectors 
 and officers." * 
 
 We close this rapid sketch of the social manners of 
 the primitive Christians, with the high tribute paid to 
 their public and civic virtues by two of their contem- 
 poraries, whose exalted rank and strong predilections 
 for heathenism give a weight to their testimony which 
 none of the Christian apologists, however faithful and 
 honest, possess. The Emperor Julian, in a letter to 
 Arsacius, high priest of Galatia, among other things 
 relating to the Christians, takes occasion to dwell 
 upon it as a well known fact, that the Christians were 
 pre-eminent in their attentions to the sick, the infirm, 
 and the aged, — in their hospitality to strangers, in 
 their peaceable deportment to others, and their pious 
 care of the dead ; and presses home on his illustrious 
 correspondent, that there was no hope of paganism 
 regaining the ascendancy, except by its adherents, 
 especially the priests, imitating the virtues of the 
 Christians, in abstaining from the theatre, the tavern, 
 and all scandalous pursuits and pleasures, — in a dili- 
 
 * Justin Martyr, Apol. 2. 
 
HEATHEN TRIBUTE TO THE CHRISTIANS. 103 
 
 gent attention to business, charity to the indigent, and 
 a hospitable entertainment of the friendless and the 
 stranger.* The Emperor Severus passed, perhaps, a 
 higher eulogy than even this of Julian, on the social 
 manners of the Christians. Observing the excellence 
 of their conduct, as citizens, soldiers, and servants, 
 and their fidelity in every department of public and 
 private life, he inquired into their principles ; and hav- 
 ing been informed that one grand rule of theirs was, 
 *'■ Not to do to others "what they would not have done 
 to themselves," he was so charmed with it, that at all 
 public executions he ordered it to be proclaimed aloud 
 by a herald, and caused it to be inscribed, in legible 
 characters, on the walls of his palace, and on all pub- 
 lic buildings, that in every street, and on every occa- 
 sion, his subjects might not be without so excellent a 
 monitor to regulate their social manners.-j- 
 
 * 3iogIiam, vol. ii. p. 293. t Life of Alexander Severus, chap. xUli, 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 FLACES FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP — UPPER ROOMS — HEATHEN TEMPLES CON- 
 VERTED INTO CHURCHES — AND HOW — AREA — FOUNTAIN — PORCH — 
 DIFFERENT CLASSES OF WORSHIPPERS SAT APART— PLACES FOR READ- 
 ING SCRIPTURES— TEXTS ON WALLS — HISTORICAL PICTURES — VIGILS 
 — MORNING AND EVENING SERVICE — LORD'S DAY KEPT AS A FESTIVAL 
 — ROUTINE OF SERVICE. 
 
 From the earliest period the primitive Christians had 
 places appropriated to divine service. No sooner was 
 a considerable number of persons converted in any city 
 to the faith of the Gospel, than they began to meet 
 together, on stated occasions, for social worship ; and 
 propriety, no less than convenience, required that these 
 assemblies should be held in a place suitable, in point 
 both of accommodation and privacy, for celebrating 
 the solemn offices of religion. The simple character 
 of Christianity admitted of those local advantages 
 being enjoyed in edihces of the plainest and humblest 
 description ; for, as it prescribed no gorgeous rites, — 
 no altars, from which the smoke of incense might 
 ascend, and the bleeding victim pour the stream of 
 expiation, — no outward pomp or elaborate decoration, 
 — no embodied emblems of the Deity, nor representa- 
 tions of departed worth and greatness, demanding the 
 reverence and admiration of its adherents, it called for 
 no majestic and splendid structures, like those which 
 concealed, in awful majesty, the rituals both of the 
 
PLACES FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP. 105 
 
 Jewish and the Gentile faith. Addressing itself to 
 the heart, not the imagination of man, it relied for its 
 success on its own native truth and energy, rather than 
 on the adventitious aid of sensible attractions; and, 
 while the religion of the heathen was altogether a 
 system of outward pomp and ceremony, and required 
 the column, the portico, the rich workmanship, and im- 
 posing grandeur of a temple as essential to its existence, 
 the few and simple rites of Christianity might be per- 
 formed in any place, however unadorned or obscure, 
 — " where two or three were met together in the name 
 of Christ." The Christians of the primitive age, whom 
 peculiar circumstances led to think all works of art 
 inseparable from the service of idolatry and vice, 
 would have deemed their privileges marred, and their 
 worship desecrated, by the introduction of architectural 
 ornament into the church, even had they enjoyed the 
 means and the liberty to gi-atify a taste for such 
 elegancies ; but, from the secret jealousy or open hos- 
 tility of the public authorities, they could boast of no 
 public buildings for the service of their faith during 
 the greater part of the three first centuries ; and the 
 only place where they held their meetings for social 
 worship, was an apartment of some wealthy believer, 
 voluntarily surrendered for the use of the Christian 
 community. Accordingly we find, from the Acts of 
 the Apostles, that those who composed the first as- 
 sembly of Christians met in an upper room, which was 
 obviously selected from being, according to the Eastern 
 style of building, always the most spacious chamber 
 of a house ; and the language of the sacred historian 
 warrants the belief that that was the stated place of 
 meeting for the Christians in Jerusalem, — the same 
 church where the apostles received the Holy Ghost, 
 the deacons were chosen, and the celebrated council 
 convened, of which James was the president. It 
 appears, too, from the frequent salutations addressed 
 by Paul to the church that was in the house of some 
 
lOG MATs^NERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 private individual, that as the number of the disciples 
 increased, and all could not conveniently assemble 
 in one place, it was customary for Christians of rank 
 and opulence, in large cities, such as Rome, Athens, 
 Corinth, and Ephesus, to appropriate rooms of their 
 dwelling to the public services of religion, — where, on 
 account of their being nearer their residence and their 
 places of business, the brethren of the district daily 
 resorted. In such apartments, concealed under the 
 exterior of an ordinary dwelling-house, and marked 
 by nothing that indicated their being appropriated to a 
 holy purpose, the primitive Christians met as brethren. 
 Under the shelter of domestic privacy, they could per- 
 form their devotions without offending the popular 
 feelings, or committing any violation of the imperial 
 orders. No change was made on the furniture and 
 appearance of the chamber, as the only preparation 
 consisted in the introduction of a covered table, on 
 which a copy of the Scriptures was laid, a couch close to 
 it for the presiding minister, and a few benches, suitably 
 arranged, for the accommodation of the worshippers ; 
 and there they were daily, with one accord, enjoying 
 the privileges, and exhorting one another to the duties, 
 of their common faith, without altering, for a century 
 and a half, their mode and place of meeting, except 
 when compelled to flee from their simple church above, 
 to the receptacles for the dead under, ground. During 
 the sanguinary persecutions that assailed the primitive 
 disciples, the myrmidons of imperial vengeance often 
 broke in upon their worship, dispersed their assem- 
 blies, and violently dispossessed them of the " upper 
 rooms " in which they were wont to congregate ; and 
 in tliese circumstances, while some fled to the mountains 
 and some to the deserts, multitudes took permanent 
 refuge in the spacious cemeteries that were situated in 
 the outskirts of the ancient cities. Amid the deep and 
 unbroken solitude of the catacombs, — places of abodo 
 less irksome, perhaps, from the ancient style of building. 
 
PLACES FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP. 107 
 
 than we are apt to imagine,* — they solaced and ani- 
 mated one another froi^ midnight to dawn, with 
 spiritual exhortations to constancy in the faith ; and, 
 while the sword of vengeance was sheathed, and the 
 fury of their persecutors slumbered in the night, they 
 continued, in these undiscovered retreats, their wonted 
 exercises of prayer and praise. About forty-three 
 of such subterranean excavations still remain in the 
 neighbourhood of Rome alone, containing the most 
 convincing evidences that they were employed for the 
 ordinances of religion, as well as for concealment ; t 
 and when we consider that numbers died, and depo- 
 sited their bones there, some of whom had eminently 
 distinguished themselves as martyrs in the cause of 
 Christ, it is not dilhcult to imagine the strong emotions 
 that would animate the primitive Christians for the 
 venerable dust that surrounded them, and the intense 
 power which religion would acquire over their minds, 
 in places which served at once for the offices of worship 
 and for the burial of the saints. X 
 
 History gives no authentic information as to the 
 time when the Christians first enjoyed the privilege 
 of rearing buildings specially adapted to the service of 
 their religion. Some indistinct notices occur, indeed, 
 of their being in possession of churches so early as the 
 beginning of the second century. But, as we find them 
 generally accused by their adversaries, at that same 
 period, of having no temples, it is probable, that if 
 there w^ere such edifices in existence, the fact was not 
 publicly known to the heathen ; and it was only in 
 the beginning of the reign of Diocletian, who assumed 
 the purple about the year 285, and when multitudes 
 of Christians filled places at court, and were even 
 
 * Before the manufacture of glass, light was admitted into houses only 
 through a small aperture above the door ; and, as may be supposed, the 
 inmates knew little difference between day and night. — Hope's Architec- 
 Uirc. 
 
 t Addison's Travels in Italy ; Sir William Gell's Subterranean Rome. 
 
 1 Burton's Lectures on the Ecclesiastical History of the Second and 
 Third Centuries. 
 
108 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 promoted to high civil offices, that the people of that 
 persuasion began openly to have religious houses, in 
 which they celebrated the rites of their faith, and 
 which were outwardly adorned with some of the graces 
 of architectural ornament.* It was not, however, till 
 the establishment of Christianity by Constantine, that 
 churches were erected, either in great numbers, or of 
 a splendid order. Then, for the first time, the Chris- 
 tians could boast of edifices which vied in architectural 
 splendour with the structures of the ancient superstition; 
 for, while many of them were reared by the munificence 
 of private individuals, who found it then safe to expend 
 their money in that species of Christian benevolence, 
 numbers of them had been formerly heathen temples, 
 the materials of which, after they had been demolished, 
 were used to construct entirely new buildings, or which 
 were at once converted into churches, and expiated by 
 surmounting them with the sign of the cross, f The 
 spot chosen for the site of a new church was generally 
 an elevated piece of ground, consecrated by being the 
 burying-place of a martyr, — the primitive Christians 
 deeming a church built over the remains of those who 
 were faithful unto death, a more suitable memorial of 
 their excellencies, than a monumental pillar erected 
 to their honour. It accordingly received their name, 
 which was inscribed on the front of the edifice. The 
 church was approached through a spacious area, in 
 the middle of which was a fountain, in which every 
 one, as he entered, washed his hands — an act intended 
 for a significant memorial of the purity of heart that 
 alone can constitute an acceptable worshipper. J The 
 entrance was formed by a longitudinal porch, within 
 which kings laid down their crowns, soldiers their 
 arms, and magistrates or judges the insignia of their 
 office. § At one end of it stood poor strangers, or such 
 
 * Orsi Istor Eccles., vol. iii. p. 53; Bingham, vol. iii. p. 275. 
 
 t Bingham, vol. iii. p. 145 ; vol. vii. p. 200. 
 
 i Bingham, vol. iii. p. 281. § Bingham, vol. iii. pp. 163, 284. 
 
DIFFERENT CLASSES OP HEARERS SAT APART. 109 
 
 of that destitute order as, from their distress being 
 recent and sudden, were allowed to make known their 
 wants by asking alms of their brethren, — while on the 
 opposite side were stationed gross offenders, who, being 
 excommunicated, and deprived of the privilege of en- 
 tering the church. Implored on their bended knees, 
 and with all the agony of remorse and the deepest 
 affliction, the prayers and sympathies of the faithful. 
 The Interior of the building — which was often in the 
 form of a cross, or an eight-sided figure, but most 
 generally of an oblong shape, resembling that of a 
 ship — was divided into different compartments, cor- 
 responding to the different classes of hearers that com- 
 posed the primitive Church. The penitents — under 
 which tenn were included all offenders who had made 
 some progress in their course of discipline — occupied 
 the first place on passing from the porch. Next to 
 them were those new converts who were preparing for 
 baptism, — while the body of the church was filled by 
 the congregation of the faithful, — widows and young 
 women by themselves, and the young men by them- 
 selves, — the men with their sons, the women with 
 their daughters, sitting apart from each other, either 
 on opposite sides of the church, or, as was frequently 
 the case, the male part of the audience remained on 
 the gTound floor, while the females had a gallery 
 appropriated for their use. At the farther end, op- 
 posite the main entrance, was the pulpit, or elevated 
 bench, from which the minister read the Scriptures 
 and exhorted the people ; and immediately behind 
 this was the place set apart for celebrating the com- 
 munion, the consecrated elements of which were de- 
 posited on a plain moveable table, covered with a white 
 cloth.* Here and there were niches in the walls, 
 
 * This was the form of the communion table during the three first cen- 
 turies. In later times, it became more splendid, was fixed, and immove- 
 able, being frequently made of stone, decorated with crimson cloth, and 
 dignified with the name of altar. But this change did not take place 
 until Christianity became corrupted from its original simplicity, and men, 
 being ignorant of the nature and import of the memorial of the Lord's 
 
 H 
 
no MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 sufficiently large to hold one or two persons, each of 
 which was furnished with a copy of the Scriptures, for 
 the use of those who might choose to retire in the in- 
 tervals of public worship, to read and to meditate in 
 these little recesses.* Besides this provision, invalu- 
 able in those days, when books were all in manuscript 
 and costly in price, texts of Scripture appropriate to 
 each class of hearers were inscribed on that part of 
 the wall that lay immediately contiguous to the place 
 they occupied in the church, and were so selected, as 
 to be perpetual remembrancers of the temptations 
 incident to their age, of the duties belonging to their 
 condition, and the motives and encouragements to 
 stedfastness in faith and virtue. Thus, to let one 
 example suffice, over the space assigned to the young 
 women, was engraven in large characters this passage 
 of Paul, 1 Cor. vii. 34 : " There is difference between 
 a wife and a virgin ; the unmarried woman careth for 
 the things of the Lord, that she may be holy in body 
 and in spirit." For the benefit of those who could 
 not profit by such means of Christian instruction, the 
 custom was latterly introduced of decorating the walls 
 of churches witfl pictures of the scenes and characters 
 of sacred history. Adam and Eve eating the forbid- 
 den fruit, — Joseph sold by his brethren, — David en- 
 countering Goliah, — Solomon dedicating his temple, 
 — Mary and the infant Jesus, — the Saviour expiring 
 on the cross, were delineated to the eye, intended, 
 like historical paintings, to keep in remembrance the 
 persons and events they were meant to represent, and 
 especially to enable the illiterate to read that in the 
 picture which they had not education enough to do 
 in the book. It was towards the end of the third 
 
 death, began to consider it in the light of a sacrifice. It may be proper to 
 add, that the communion table was not close to the wall, but so situated, 
 that it could be surrounded by the guests. 
 
 * In the year that Constantine transferred the seat of empire to Con- 
 stantinople, he erected several splendid churches; and, that these might 
 be provided with Bibles, he ordered fifty copies to be transcribed for that 
 xxib.— Cave's Lives of the Fatfiers, vol. ii. p. 22. 
 
HISTORICAL PICTURES. Ill 
 
 century when this innovation crept into the Church ; 
 and although, doubtless, it sprang from a pious and 
 well-meaning zeal for the instruction of the ignorant, 
 yet it was an imprudent measure, productive of the 
 worst consequences, and tending to accelerate the 
 superstition which was then advancing wuth gigantic 
 strides over the whole Christian world. Up to that 
 period the Church had kept itself pure and inviolate 
 from the sanction of any sensible representations 
 either of God or of man ; and in the only instance 
 recorded, prior to this date, of any thing approaching 
 to a human figure being hung up in a church, the 
 pious father who discovered a painting of Christ on 
 a curtain when travelling through a little village of 
 Palestine, got admission into the sacred edifice, and 
 tore the drapery in pieces, being horror-struck at the 
 daring sin. 
 
 It remains only to notice, in this description of the 
 places of worship, the profound respect and reverence 
 the primitive Christians paid to those houses that 
 were dedicated to the honour and worship of God. 
 Habitually grave in their deportment, they assumed 
 more than wonted gravity the moment they stepped 
 w ithin the threshold of a church ; and mindful of the 
 majesty of Him into whose palace they had come, they 
 studied to avoid every look and gesture that became 
 not the presence-chamber of the Deity. The feelings of 
 sacredness they attached to the destination of the place 
 were naturally, ere long, transferred to the building 
 itself; and hence arose the custom, which the Chris- 
 tian emperors afterwards established into a law% of 
 making the churches sanctuaries for the protection of 
 those who fled to them. This privilege of secm'ity, 
 how^ever, was not open to all indiscriminately, or de- 
 signed to screen delinquents from the merited punish- 
 ment of their crimes. It was a provision only for those 
 who had unintentionally committed a fault, or who 
 were unjustly accused, to afford them time to vindicate 
 
112 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 their innocence. The protection extended to thirty 
 days, during which period ample opportunity was 
 supposed to be given for refuting a cahimny, or ter- 
 minating a strife ; and if, on the expiry of this term, 
 the fugitive failed to clear himself, he was left to the 
 regular course of the law. It was, no doubt, a hu- 
 mane custom, which sprang from the benevolent spirit 
 of Christianity, and which still remains an interesting 
 example of the softening effects it produced on the 
 habits both of private and public life. But in this 
 practice the discerning reader will not fail to perceive 
 the early traces of that disposition which led men into 
 a superstitious reverence for every object of nature or 
 of art, that was connected with a place of worship. 
 
 From describing the places of public worship among 
 the primitive Christians, we proceed to notice the 
 seasons of their public service. Setting, as they did, a 
 high value on the appointed ordinances of grace, they 
 felt a corresponding anxiety to enjoy the benefits these 
 are fitted to impart, and knowing from experience, that 
 a sudden transition from the world to the church, — 
 from the scenes and employments of sense, to the 
 sublime objects of faith, tends to disqualify the mind for 
 a free and full surrender of its powers to the influence 
 of religion, they resorted to the most careful and ela- 
 borate means of acquiring that devotional frame which 
 is becoming the sanctuary. With this view, they were 
 accustomed to dedicate the whole of the night pre- 
 ceding the first day of the week, and the return of 
 any of the great festivals of the Church, to religious 
 exercises ; and lest either their bodies or their minds 
 should be exhausted by the tedium of such protracted 
 vigils, they endeavoured to give such a variety to 
 these spiritual occupations, as Avould lend a fresh and 
 undiminishing interest to every part of the prepara- 
 tory service. Repairing at midnight to the church, 
 the brethren engaged for a while in private devotion, 
 as preliminary to the duties of the occasion, and then, 
 
VIGILS FORM OP SERVICE. 113 
 
 after this introductory service was over, the rest of 
 the time was consumed in sing'ng psalms, reading the 
 Scriptures, and prayer. The passages selected from the 
 Word of God were chiefly such as related to the plan 
 of redemption, and the fulness of mercy and grace 
 contained in the divine covenant — to the moral beauty 
 and happiness of the people of God — to the love of 
 Christ, and the blessedness of those mansions which 
 he has gone to prepare. The reading of these, with 
 the glowing exhortations that were founded on them, 
 and short prayers, breathing the most fervent desires 
 that the promises might be realized in the experience 
 of all, were themes dwelt upon, on such occasions, 
 with a delight, which repetition, instead of diminishing, 
 served only to increase. At intervals unbroken silence 
 reigned in the meeting ; every one engaged in private 
 prayer — an occupation which always bore a prominent 
 part in the order of such assemblies, and was performed 
 in a kneeling posture, as most suitable to confession 
 of sins, and feelings of humility. 
 
 But the singing of psalms was their chief and 
 favourite occupation ; and the Christians of the primi- 
 tive age seem to have been as fully aware, as some of 
 the eminent leaders of religious sects in modern times, 
 of the great power of sacred melody to inflame the 
 ardour of the affections, and lead captive the most 
 tender sensibilities of the soul. In this exercise they 
 engaged with all the fondness of a passion ; and if, as 
 the night advanced, they occasionally gave way to the 
 soft influence of slumber, or had felt at times, during 
 the hortatory and devotional parts of the service, that 
 though the spirit was Avilling the flesh was weak, yet, 
 ever and anon as the strains of a new melody arose, 
 they returned to the grateful employment with an 
 animation and a pleasure that made the hours fly 
 unheeded away. The concert consisted chiefly of the 
 Psalms of David, intermingled, however, at intervals, 
 with metrical pieces on sacred subjects, composed by 
 
114 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 individuals belonging to the Christian society, and 
 adapted to some well known airs. At the commence- 
 ment of the service all joined simultaneously in the in- 
 teresting task, and the united voice of the assembly bore 
 aloft, in full and sublime harmony, the notes of praise. 
 At a later period, they sometimes divided themselves 
 into two parts, and responded in alternate chants, while 
 at other times one of the brethren sang alone, and the 
 rest joined in universal chorus at the conclusion of 
 every stanza. One anthem, called Hallelujah, was fre- 
 quently sung by the whole congregation, in which the 
 words, Holy, Holy, Holy, were thrice repeated. The 
 whole melody was of the most overpowering descrip- 
 tion ; and when they approached the repetition of that 
 sublime ascription, and dwelt upon it with varying 
 cadence — their voices now soft and low, like the gentle 
 murmur of a streamlet — now strong, loud, and subhme, 
 like the rush of many waters, the feelings of the wor- 
 shippers, carried along by the full tide of vocal har- 
 mony, were rapt into a pitch of seraphic devotion, and 
 seemed as if the veil of mortality was removed, and 
 they had joined the angelic choir, who surround the 
 throne of heaven. The duration of these vocal exer- 
 cises, which were found so suited to the taste, and so 
 conducive to the spiritual edification of the Christians, 
 was regulated by no rule but the time and comfort of 
 the meeting. If the psalms were long, they were 
 divided into parts, and a pause was made in the sing- 
 ing, to be occupied either in conversation on kindred 
 topics, or in solitary meditation, as was most agreeable 
 to the feelings of each individual, and on a girven signal 
 they resumed the chant, till they finished the sacred 
 poem. At these midnight conventions, thirty, forty, 
 and even fifty psalms were often sung, for they conti- 
 nued during the whole of the night, and never allowed 
 their course of preparation to be brought to a close, 
 till the morning sun, announcing the arrival of the 
 sacred day, they gave each other the kiss of peace, and 
 
MORNING AND EVENING SERVICE. 1 1 5 
 
 departed for a while, — to meet again when the public 
 mid-daj service of the church should begin.* 
 
 The advantages derived from these protracted vigils, 
 the high tone of devotion they inspired, the congeni- 
 ality of mind they fostered for the offices of public 
 worship and the occupations of the sanctuary, led the 
 primitive Christians to long for a more frequent obser- 
 vance of them than the periodical return of the Lord's 
 day, and other sacred festivals, allowed ; and hence, 
 under a conviction that such social meetings, held at 
 the commencement and at the close of every day, 
 would prove an admirable preparation for the duties 
 and the trials of ordinary life, they adopted the prac- 
 tice of having morning and evening service daily in 
 the church. The hours were fixed so as not to inter- 
 fere with the routine of ordinary business, and as it 
 was impossible for them, every day, to pursue a round 
 of religious exercises for so long a period as the pernoc- 
 tations we have described above, the service was reduced 
 to a comparatively small compass. Long before day- 
 light they assembled and opened their meeting with 
 the 63d Psalm, the exordium of which, " God, thou 
 art my God, early will I seek thee," as well as the 
 whole strain of that pious effusion, made it an appro- 
 priate commencement of the duties of every day. 
 They then united in prayer, the burden of which was 
 a supplication for the divine blessing and favour on 
 the members of the household of faith, and for the 
 extension of the Redeemers kingdom. This was 
 followed by the reading of a short and appropriate 
 passage of Scripture, after which they sang the 90th 
 Psalm, so pathetically descriptive of the frailty and 
 uncertainty of life, and then embodied their sentiments 
 on this subject in a second prayer, in which they 
 expressed their sense of dependence on the care of the 
 Almighty, and their gratitude for their common pre- 
 servation during the previous night. Another portion 
 
 * Bingham, vol. v. p. 289 ; Cave's Primitive Christianity, part i. chap. vii. 
 
116 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 of the Divine Word being read, the whole service — 
 scarcely, if ever, exceeding the limits of an hour — was 
 brought to a close by the singing of the 51st Psalm, 
 and a corresponding prayer, in both of which they 
 implored the divine mercy to pardon the sins of their 
 past life, and the divine grace to help them amid the 
 exigencies of their future course. 
 
 The evening service was conducted on the same plan 
 as that of the antelucan meeting, only diversified, of 
 course, by a set of psalms, and a strain of devotional 
 sentiments appropriate to the change of time and cir- 
 cumstances. It began with the 141st Psalm, and a 
 prayer, in which, like the corresponding one in the 
 morning oblation, the divine love was supplicated on 
 the brethren, an extract from the Gospels or Epistles 
 was read, and after this, as the evening meeting 
 generally took place at the time of lighting candles, 
 they sung a hymn, in which they gave thanks both for 
 natural and spiritual light, and then prayed a second 
 time for a continuance of the bounty and grace of the 
 Lord. Such were the pious habits of the primitive 
 Christians, that not content with the devotions of the 
 family and the closet, they attended duly, as the season 
 returned, the celebration of morning and evening 
 service in the church. Nor was it only the more 
 devout and zealous of them that pursued this daily 
 routine of religious observances. The place of worship 
 was thronged \nth all ranks of the faithful as much 
 during the morning and evening service, as during 
 that of the Sabbath, and they would have afforded 
 good reason to suspect the sincerity of their religious 
 profession, who should in those days of Christian sim- 
 plicity and devotedness, have confined themselves to 
 the hebdomadal ordinance of the sanctuary. Persons 
 who, from sickness, or travelling, or confinement in 
 prison, were prevented from enjoying the privilege of 
 repairing to the assembly of their brethren, carefully 
 observed in private those hours of daily prayer ; and 
 
lord's day kept as a festival. 117 
 
 men, wliose time was engrossed during the day with 
 the labours of the field or the shop — with the specu- 
 lations of commerce, or the offices of civil and judicial 
 stations, " rose early before day, and never engaged 
 in any of their most necessary and ordinary worldly 
 business, before they had consecrated the first fruits 
 of all their actions and labours to God, by going to 
 churcli, and presenting themselves in the Divine pre- 
 sence." * 
 
 But the principal season of public worship among 
 the primitive Christians was the first day of the week. 
 From the time of the apostles, it was customary for 
 the disciples of Christ, both in town and country, to 
 meet in some common accessible place on the return 
 of that day ; and while on other occasions, such as 
 those we have described, it was left to every one to 
 frequent the assemblies of the brethren as inclination 
 dictated or convenience allowed, the sanction of apos- 
 tolic example at once elevated attendance on the 
 religious meetings of that period to the rank of a 
 sacred duty, and an invaluable privilege. The high 
 and holy character the Christians of the primitive age 
 attached to it, is sufficiently indicated by their styling 
 it the Lord's day ; and, from the glorious event of 
 which it was the stated memorial, they hailed it as a 
 weekly festival, on which no other sentiment was 
 becoming or lawful but that of unbounded spiritual 
 joy. Hence fasting, which was so frequently practised 
 in the ancient Church, and was allowable on every 
 other day, was strictly prohibited on this ; and even 
 the most rigid of the primitive Christians, who sought 
 to aim at more than ordinary heights of virtue by the 
 practice of austerity and mortification, laid aside their 
 habitual aspect of sorrovv, as inconsistent with the 
 joyful feelings that season inspired. With one accord 
 they dedicated it to the worship of their exalted 
 Redeemer, and to meditation on the things pertaining 
 
 * Bingham, vol. v. p. 339. 
 
118 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 to the common salvation ; and the spiritual views with 
 which they entered on its observance, the congenial 
 tempers with which all repaired to the place of assem- 
 bly, the common desire that animated every bosom to 
 seek the Lord there, if haply they might find him, and 
 to hold fellowship with the Father, and with his Son 
 Jesus Christ, was at once an evidence and a means of 
 the high-toned piety that distinguished them. Early 
 on the Saturday it was their practice to accomplish 
 the duties of their household, and fulfil the necessary 
 demands of their business, so that no secular care might 
 disturb the enjoyment of the sacred day, or impede the 
 current of their spiritual affections ; and severe indeed 
 was the indisposition, remote the situation, imperious 
 the cause, that detained any from the scenes and 
 occupations the first day of the week brought along 
 with it. So long as heathenism retained the ascendant, 
 and the disciples of the new and rival religion were at 
 the mercy of their pagan masters, it was only during 
 the night, or early in the morning, they could enjoy 
 the privileges of the Christian Sabbath; nor could 
 they observe any regular order in their service, at a 
 time when the voice of psalms was liable to betray the 
 secret assembly, — and the ruthless soldier often dis- 
 persed the brethren in the middle of their devotions, 
 or compelled them to leave a glomng exhortation 
 unfinished. But the moment the sword of persecu- 
 tion was sheathed, and the religion of Jesus enjoyed 
 the tolerant smiles of a heathen, or the paternal 
 auspices of a Christian, emperor, the Christians re- 
 sumed their much valued assemblies on the Lord's 
 day, — established a certain order in the routine of 
 their service, suited to the constitution and circum- 
 stances of the primitive Church ; and such was the 
 happy understanding among the brethren every where, 
 that, with some trifling variations required in particu- 
 lar places, a beautiful uniformity in worship and dis- 
 cipline may be said to have prevailed in all parts of 
 
ROUTINE OF SERVICE. 119 
 
 the Christian world. Viewing the Lord's day as a 
 spiritual festivity, a season on which their souls were 
 specially to magnify the Lord, and their spirits to 
 rejoice in God their Saviour, they introduced the 
 services of the day with psalmody, which was followed 
 by select portions of the Prophets, the Gospels, and the 
 Epistles ; the intervals between which were occupied 
 by the faithful in private devotions.* The plan of 
 service, in short, reseml)led what was followed in that 
 of the vigils, though there were some important differ- 
 ences, which we shall now describe. The men prayed 
 with their heads bare, and the women were veiled, as 
 became the modesty of their sex, both standing — a 
 posture deemed the most decent, and suited to their 
 exalted notions of the weekly solemnity — with their 
 eyes lifted up to heaven, and their hands extended in 
 the form of a cross, the better to keep them in remem- 
 brance of Him, whose death had opened up the way 
 of access to the Di\'ine presence. The reading of the 
 sacred volume constituted an important and indispen- 
 sable part of the observance ; and the more effectually 
 to impress it on the memories of the audience, the 
 lessons were always short, and of frequent recurrence. 
 Besides the Scriptures, they were accustomed to read 
 aloud several other books for the edification and 
 interest of the people — such as treatises on the illus- 
 tration of Christian morals, by some pastor of eminent 
 reputation and piety, or letters from foreign churches, 
 containing an account of the state and progress of the 
 Gospel. This part of the service — most necessary and 
 valuable at a time when a large proportion of every 
 congregation were acquainted with letters — was per- 
 formed at first by the presiding minister, but was 
 afterwards devolved on an ofl&cer appointed for that 
 object, who, when proceeding to the discharge of his 
 duty, if it related to any part of the history of Jesus, 
 
 * Bingham, vol. vi. chap. iv. ; Cave's Primitive Christianity, part i. 
 chap. 7 ; Fleuiy, Moeurs des Chretiens, chap. xiv. ; Thorndyke on Reli- 
 gious Assemblies, chap. x. 
 
1 20 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 exclaimed aloud to tlie people, " Stand up — the Gos- 
 pels are going to be read ;" and then always com- 
 menced with, " Thus saith the Lord." They assumed 
 this attitude, not only from a conviction that it was the 
 most respectful posture in which to listen to the coun- 
 sels of the King of kings, but with a view to keep alive 
 the attention of the people — an object which, in some 
 chm'ches, was sought to be gained by the minister 
 stopping in the middle of a scriptural quotation, and 
 leaving the people to finish it aloud.* The discourses, 
 founded for the most part on the last portion of Scrip- 
 ture that was read, w^ere short, plain, and extemporary 
 exhortations, — designed chiefly to stir up the minds of 
 the brethren by way of remembrance, and always pre- 
 faced by the salutation, " Peace be unto you." As 
 they were very short — sometimes not extending to 
 more than eight or ten minutes' duration — several of 
 them were delivered at a diet, and the preacher was 
 usually the pastor of the place, though he sometimes, 
 at his discretion, invited a stranger, or one of his 
 brethren, known to possess the talent of public speak- 
 ing, to address the assembly. The close of the sermon 
 by himself, which was always the last of the series, was 
 the signal for the public prayers to commence. Pre- 
 vious to this solemn part of the service, however, a 
 crier commanded infidels of any description that might 
 be present to withdraw, and the doors being closed and 
 guarded, the pastor proceeded to pronounce a prayer, 
 the burden of which was made to bear a special refer- 
 ence to the circumstances of the various classes who, in 
 the primitive Church, were not admitted to a full par- 
 ticipation in the privileges of the faithful. First of all, 
 he prayed, in name of the whole company of believers, 
 for the catechumens — young persons, or recent converts 
 from heathenism, who were passing through a prepara- 
 tory course of instruction in the doctrines and duties 
 
 * Augustine, for instance, having introduced in one of his sermons those 
 words of Paul — The end of the conimandim'nt is charity, — stopped; and 
 the whole people immediately cried o\i\,,—out of a pure heart. 
 
PRAYERS FOR DIFFERENT CLASSES. 121 
 
 of Christianity, — that their understandings might be 
 enlightened — their hearts receive the truth in the love 
 of it — and tliat they might be led to cultivate those 
 holy habits of heart and life, by which they might 
 adorn the doctrine of God their Saviour. Next, he 
 prayed for the penitents, Avho were undergoing the 
 discipline of the Church, that they might receive deep 
 and permanent impressions of the exceeding sinfulness 
 of sin, — that they might be filled with godly sorrow, 
 and might have grace, during the appointed term of 
 their probation, to bring forth fruits meet for repent- 
 ance. In like manner, he made appropriate suppli- 
 cations for other descriptions of persons, each of whom 
 left the church when the class to which be belonged 
 had been commended to the God of all grace ; and 
 then the brethren, reduced by these successive depar- 
 tures to an approved company of the faithful, proceeded 
 to the holy service of communion/"' 
 
 * In the East, where multitudes of the Christians were Jews, who still 
 retained a passionate attachment to the law of Moses, Saturday was long 
 observed as a day of public worship, though not regarded by the Christian* 
 in the same light, and of tiie same character with the first day of the week. 
 Wednesday and Friday began, at an early period, to be held as weekly 
 fasts, which never terminated till three in the afternoon. A number of 
 public festivals were also introduced, in commemoration of the birth, 
 ascension, and other events in the life of Christ,— some of which, Easter, 
 for instance, can boast of a most venerable antiquity, and of universal 
 observance. — See Routh's Reliquia Sacra, vol. iii. p. 23G ; and Nelson's 
 Festivals, 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP, 
 CONTINUED. 
 
 COMMUNION CELEBRATED EVERY LORD'S DAY — AFTERWARDS DAILY — FREE- 
 WILL OFFERINGS— MANNER OF CELEBRATION— SENT TO THE ABSENT — 
 GIVEN TO INFANTS— CELEBRATED IN PRIVATE HOUSES EVERY MORNING, 
 OR WITH STRANGERS— CLASSES OF CATECHUMENS— MYSTERIES — BAP- 
 TISM ADMINISTERED AT FIRST IN ANY PLACE — AFTERWARDS IN CHURCH 
 — GENERALLY BY IMMERSION — CLINICK BAPTISM — DEFERRED OFTEN 
 TILL DEATH — REASON OF THIS — HORROR FELT FROM WANTING IT DURING 
 A STORM — STORY OF NAZI.INZEN — IMPORTANCE ATTACHED TO THE PER- 
 SON BY WHOM, AND THE PLACE IN WHICH, IT WAS DISPENSED — ANNUAL 
 SEASONS FOR BAPTIZING — CEREMONIES ATTENDING^ IT— ANECDOTE OF 
 AN AFRICAN SLAVE— PUBLIC CONFESSION OF FAITH — WHITE GARMENTS 
 — CHANGE OF NAME. 
 
 The service of communion has, in all periods of the 
 Christian Church, been regarded as the most solemn 
 act of devotion, and the primitive age was so far 
 from being an exception, that the Christians of that 
 time showed the profound reverence they entertained 
 for the last institution of the Saviour, by circumstances 
 more varied, perhaps, than their successors have ever 
 done. The anxious provision they made, that the 
 holy mysteries should never be witnessed by pro- 
 fane eyes, — the elaborate and well-tried course of 
 preparation, through which all had to pass, ere they 
 were deemed qualified to participate in the highest 
 solemnity of their faith, as well as the imjjosing 
 formalities with which they accompanied the obser- 
 vance of the sacred rite, — show the high estimation 
 in which they held it. A description of these will 
 
COMMUNION CELEBRATED DAILY. ] 23 
 
 form the subject of the present chapter, previous to 
 which, however, we shall premise a few observations 
 on the time at which the Lord's Supper was cele- 
 brated among the primitive Christians, as well as on 
 the frequency of its celebration. At first, from a 
 pious, though not, perhaps, an enlightened, regard to 
 the example of Christ, they studiously endeavoured 
 that their celebration of the ordinance should embrace 
 all the circumstances which had marked its original 
 appointment; and as they usually met, like Christ 
 and his disciples on that memorable occasion, in an 
 upper room, they thought it their duty to follow them 
 in point of time as well as of place, by postponing it 
 till night, and making it a sequel to the ordinary meal 
 of which they partook at the close of the day. From 
 the testimonies of many ancient authors, it appears 
 that this was the period of its observance in the times 
 immediately succeeding the apostles ; and where the 
 love-feast that preceded was characterised by a spirit 
 of Christian temperance and concord, there could not 
 have been a more appropriate and seasonable occasion 
 than a social supper, for observing a solemnity which 
 was peculiarly a feast of communion and love. But 
 in the course of time these amiable festivals not un- 
 frequently exhibited scenes of irregularity and excess, 
 little in accordance with the sacredness of the religious 
 rite that followed ; and accordingly, the Christians of 
 that day, from a unanimous feeling of the propriety 
 of a change, transferred it to the morning — the only 
 time when, in the primitive age, the public assembUes 
 for worship could often be held.* 
 
 In these assemblies the communion formed a never- 
 failing part of the service ; for, without entering on the 
 question, how often the apostles and their contempo- 
 raries observed the holy rite, t there is no doubt that 
 
 * Neander, p. 380. 
 
 t " No inference can be drawn," says Dr Dick very justly, " from Acts 
 xi. other than that the I.ord's Supper was one of the evangelical institu- 
 tions which the disciples were stedfast in observing. The chief argument for 
 
124 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 the primitive Christians early adopted the practice of 
 celebrating it every time that they met for public 
 worship. The Lord's day insured its weekly obser- 
 vance, the festivals afforded other opportunities of 
 frequent recurrence, and the introduction of the ante- 
 lucan meetings gave birth to the custom of communi- 
 cating every day. Nor did this daily familiarity with 
 an ordinance, in which the sublimest mysteries are 
 exhibited to the eye of sense, impair their reverence 
 for it as the highest solemnity of their religion, or 
 deprive it of its efficacy as a means of comfort, and 
 an incentive to holiness. Habitually conversant with 
 the great objects of faith, and making it their daily aim 
 and endeavour to infuse the spirit of Christianity into 
 all the transactions and scenes of their every-day life, 
 they required no other preparation than their ordinary 
 practices to attune their minds to that act of more than 
 wonted devotion ; and looking upon it as an explicit 
 testimony of their attachment to Christ, and a public 
 avowal that they gloried in his cross — though it Avas 
 the most ignominious part of his history — they felt that 
 they could not too frequently observe the memorials 
 of his death. Besides, assailed as they were on every 
 side by contumely and oppression in a thousand forms, 
 and sensible of their need of some extraordinary means 
 of fortifying their faith and animating their mutual 
 love, they found themselves borne onwards, by the 
 necessities of their outward condition, to the daily 
 celebration of a rite, which experience taught them 
 was so conducive to their edification, and by which, 
 every morning, before mingling with the world, they 
 renewed their oath of fealty to their Divine Master, 
 and of union with each other. So long as the vivid 
 impressions of faith and love, that characterised the 
 first age, remained the distinguishing trait of Cliris- 
 
 the weekly celebration of it is drawn from Acts xx. 7. I acknowledge," 
 he continues, " that this verse implies, that it was the main purpose of 
 their meeting on that occasion ; but for this very reason, I conclude that 
 it was not the usual design of coming together." 
 
FREE-WILL OFFERINGS. 1 25 
 
 tlaiis, these frequent and daily acts of communion 
 were at once the channel through which their habitual 
 feelings sought vent, and the source that fed anew the 
 streams of their spiritual affections. But in the altered 
 circumstances of the following age, when the religion of 
 Jesus ceased to be an object of persecution, and mul- 
 titudes connected themselves with his visible Church, 
 far inferior in piety and zeal to their predecessors, the 
 practice of daily communion fell into desuetude. At 
 first, it was considered sufficient to observe the rite 
 three or four times a-week, then only on the Lord's 
 day, till, at last, they contented themselves with re- 
 newing the solemnity as seldom as three or four times 
 a-year.* 
 
 But however much they altered in different places, 
 and at different periods, the times of celebrating this 
 sacred ordinance, they never varied, except, perhaps, 
 in some trifling circumstances, in the mode of obser- 
 vance. The peculiar service of the faithful was com- 
 monly introduced by a private and silent prayer, which 
 was followed by a general supplication for the Church 
 and the whole family of mankind, and then each of 
 the brethren came forward to contril)ute a free-Avill 
 offering, according to his ability, to the treasury of the 
 church, — the wealthy always being careful to bring 
 part of theirs in articles of bread and wine. Out of this 
 collection, both the sacramental elements were furnish- 
 ed, — the one consisting, from the first, of the common 
 bread that was in use in the country, and the other 
 of wine diluted with water, according to the universal 
 practice of the ancients. Preliminary to the distribu- 
 tion of these, two ceremonies were ahvays observed 
 with the greatest punctuality, — the one emblematical 
 of the purity that became the ordinance, the other 
 of the love that should reign among ail the disciples 
 of Christ. The deacons brought a basin of water, in 
 which the presiding ministers washed their hands in 
 
 * King's Prim. Church, part ii. chap. vi. 
 I 
 
126 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 presence, and on belialf, of the whole congi-egation, — 
 a practice founded on the words of the Psalmist, — " I 
 will wash my hands in innocence, and so I will com- 
 pass thine altar ;" and then, on a given signal, the 
 assembled brethren, in token of their mutual amit}' 
 and good-will, proceeded to give each other a holy 
 kiss, ministers saluting ministers, the men their fellow- 
 men, and the women the female disciples that stood 
 beside them. At this stage of the service, another 
 prayer of a general nature was offered, at the conclu- 
 sion of which the minister, addressing the people, said, 
 " Peace be unto you," to which they responded in one 
 voice, " and with thy spirit." Pausing a little, he 
 said, " Lift up your hearts to God," to which they re- 
 plied, " We lift them up unto God ;" and then, after 
 another brief interval of silence, he proceeded, " Let 
 us give thanks to God," to which they returned the 
 ready answer, " It is meet and just so to do." These 
 preliminary exhortations being completed, the minis- 
 ter offered up what w^as called the great thanksgiving 
 for all blessings, both temporal and spiritual, especially 
 for the unspeakable love of God as manifested in the 
 death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ, and for 
 that holy ordinance in which, in gracious adaptation 
 to the nature of man. He is evidently set forth as 
 crucified and slain; concluding with an earnest de- 
 sire, that intending communicants might participate 
 in all the benefits it was designed to impart, to which 
 all the people said aloud, " Amen." As the commu- 
 nicants were about to advance to the place appro- 
 priated for communion, — for up to that time it was 
 unoccupied, — the minister exclaimed, " Holy things to 
 holy persons," — a form of expression equivalent to a 
 practical prohibition of all who were unholy ; and the 
 invitation to communicants was given by the singing 
 of some appropriate Psalms, such as the passage in 
 the 34th, — " taste and see that God is good," and 
 the 1 33d, beginning, " Behold ! how good and how 
 
CELEBRATION OF THE LORD's SUPPER. 1 27 
 
 pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity ! " 
 The elements having been consecrated by a prayer, 
 which consisted chiefly of the words of the institution, 
 the minister took up the bread, and breaking it, in 
 memorial of Christ's body being broken, distributed 
 it to his assisting brethren beside him, and in like 
 manner the cup, both of which were carried round 
 by the deacons to the communicants in order; and 
 while they presented them in this simple form, " the 
 body of Christ," " the blood of Christ," each commu- 
 nicant, on receiving them, devoutly said, " Amen." 
 The manner in which they received the element, was 
 by taking it in the right hand, and placing their left 
 underneath to prevent any of it from falling. The act 
 of communion being finished, a thanksgiving hymn was 
 sung, and an appropriate prayer offered, after which 
 the brethren again gave each other the salutation of a 
 holy kiss, and having received the blessing of their 
 pastor, were exhorted to " Go in peace." * 
 
 Such was the manner in which the holy rite of the 
 Supper was usually celebrated among the primitive 
 Christians. But we shall have exhibited a very im- 
 perfect view of their manners in this respect, unless 
 we take into consideration some peculiarities, which, 
 while they were professedly founded on a literal inter- 
 pretation of the words of Scripture, gave rise to cus- 
 toms that have been almost universally exploded by 
 every succeeding age of the Church. According to 
 their ideas, the feast of communion, implying a fel- 
 lowship in spirit and feeling, might be celebrated by 
 persons who were absent, as well as those who were 
 present at the solemnity ; and accordingly, they were 
 in the habit of sending, by the hands of the deacons, 
 portions of the sacred elements to their brethren, who, 
 from sickness or imprisonment, were unable to attend. 
 Such causes of absence as these, which arose from the 
 unavoidable dispensations of Providence, ought not, 
 
 * Cave's Prim. Christ., part i. chap. si. ; Bingham, vol. iii, p. 286. 
 
128 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 in their opinion, to deprive any of the comfort and pri- 
 vilege of communicating ; and as numbers of those who 
 were ranked in this class, were mart^TS, confessors of 
 the truth, and devoted followers of the Saviour, they 
 considered it would have been the height of cruelty to 
 withhold from such honoured characters the means of 
 participating with their brethren in an act of commu- 
 nion that was essentially spiritual. Frequently did they 
 transmit, therefore, to the sick-beds or the dungeons 
 of their brethren, fragments of the bread that had been 
 consecrated in the church ; or, where that could not 
 be procured, the minister consecrated it on the spot ; 
 — 'nay, so far were they carried by their benevolent 
 desire to extend the benefits of this sacred ordinance 
 to all who were anxious to partake of it, that they 
 scrupled not to send it to penitents when in a dying 
 state, though persons undergoing discipline would not, 
 in other circumstances, have been deemed qualified, 
 accordinsf to the established rules of the Church. A 
 memorable example of this is furnished in the case of 
 Serapion, a Christian of whose faith and sincerity no 
 doubt was entertained, till, on the outbreak of a violent 
 persecution, he fell from his profession. Returning to 
 his first love, he long and importunately solicited in 
 vain a restoration to the privilege of communion. Being 
 overtaken, at length, by a severe indisposition, which 
 brought him in four days to the verge of the grave, he 
 despatched a messenger to one of the neighbouring 
 ministers, with an earnest request that he w'ould come 
 and give him the consolations of the sacrament. The 
 minister was prevented by sickness from going in 
 person, but perceiving the urgency of the case, he 
 sent a portion of the consecrated bread by the hands 
 of the messenger, who administered it to the dying 
 penitent. 
 
 Another peculiarity of theirs — arising from an im- 
 pression of the absolute necessity of this ordinance to 
 salvation — was their admission of persons to partake 
 
SENT TO ABSENT — GIVEN TO INFANTS. 129 
 
 of it of all ages, and in every variety of circumstance. 
 Provided only that they had received the initiatory rite 
 of baptism, the primitive Christians scrupled not to 
 administer the other Christian sacrament to all, with- 
 out exception, even though they might be altogether 
 unconscious of the service in which they Avere made 
 to engage. Hence the custom of giving the communion 
 to infants — a custom which, for many ages, prevailed 
 in the ancient church ; and as persons of that tender 
 age were unable to eat the bread, the practice early 
 came into use of dipping it in Avine, and pressing a 
 drop or two from the moistened sop into the mouth 
 of the babe. Hence, also, the custom of administering 
 it to the sick in the delirium of a fever, or in such 
 circumstances of bodily weakness that they were in- 
 capable of communicating tlieir own wishes, — which, 
 however, if the attendant nurse testified had been 
 previously and anxiously expressed, were gratified by 
 a participation of the sacred rite, just as if they had 
 been in the full possession of bodily and mental health. 
 Hence, also, the custom of manj'^ religious persons car- 
 rying home a portion of the consecrated bread from 
 the church to their own homes, and reserving it for 
 future use among their most precious and valuable 
 treasures. In a chest appropriated to the purpose, this 
 sacred deposit was laid, and when no opportunity was 
 afibrded of attending the morning service, every time 
 they rose from bed, and before engaging in any worldly 
 business, they were accustomed to consecrate the day 
 by the solemn act of participating of the sacrament ; 
 or, when a Christian stranger came to their houses for 
 their hospitality, ere ever he tasted of the viands that 
 were produced for his refreshment, the morsel of the 
 consecrated bread was broken between them, and their 
 social intercourse hallowed by the preliminary rite of 
 communion. Customs like these, which savoured so 
 strongly of superstition, could have originated only 
 in a profound feeUng of reverence for the ordinance, 
 
130 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 and in an impression of its supposed indispensable 
 necessity to the -vvellbeing of the soul in a future world; 
 and accordingly, we find, from the testimony of many 
 ancient writers, that they were founded on a literal in- 
 terpretation of these words of our Lord, — " Except ye 
 eat the flesh, and drink the blood of the Son of Man, 
 ye cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." Happy 
 had it been, if men had looked less to the sign than 
 to the thing signified, and had been more disposed to 
 direct the eye of faith to the meritorious death of the 
 Redeemer, than to behold with their eyes, and handle 
 with their hands, and taste with their mouths, the 
 symbols that were exhibited to the senses. 
 
 While those who were entitled to partake of the 
 Lord's Supper were exclusively denominated the faith- 
 ful, and considered as occupying the rank of perfect 
 or approved Christians, there Avere several other classes 
 of persons, who, though connected with the Church, 
 and forming constituent parts of it, were yet separated 
 from, and inferior to, the former, being in various 
 stages of advancement towards a qualification for the 
 holy rites of the Gospel. These orders, known by the 
 name of catechumens, were distinguished from each 
 other by lines of demarcation, beyond which none was 
 alloAved to pass without a long and gradual prepara- 
 tion; and between a new made catechumen, and a 
 Christian in the rank of the faithful, there was as wide 
 a difference in the eye of the primitive Church, as be- 
 tween an infant of a day, and one who has attained the 
 statm'e of a full-grown man. In the records of apos- 
 tolic times, we shall in vain look for any traces of 
 this distinction, — for then a heathen no sooner made 
 an avowal of his faith in Christ,* than he received the 
 initiatory rite of Christianity. His conversion was 
 immediately followed by his baptism ; and whatever 
 shades of difference there might be in the knowledge 
 and the faith of the new converts, all were considered 
 as equally entitled to the outward sign, as they were 
 
CLASSES OF CATECHUMENS. 131 
 
 to the inward and spiritual benefits of the ordinance. 
 But in process of time, when the Church was enlarged 
 by a daily increasing influx of members from heathen- 
 ism, and when her purity was no longer guarded by 
 the presiding care of those who possessed the miracu- 
 lous gift of discerning sjjirits, the pious solicitude of 
 her rulers in after-times gave rise to the custom of 
 deferring the admission of converts into the fellowship 
 of the Church, till clear and satisfactory evidence was 
 obtained of their fitness, in point both of knowledge 
 and sincerity, to be enrolled in the ranks of the dis- 
 ciples. The dear-bought experience of the primitive 
 Christians had convinced them that the gross habits 
 of idolaters were not easily, and all at once, in many 
 instances, relinquished for the pure and spiritual prin- 
 ciples of the Gospel, and that multitudes of professed 
 believers held their faith by so slender a tie, that the 
 slightest temptation plunged them anew into their 
 former sensuality, and the first alarm drove them 
 back into the enemy's camp. To diminish, and, if 
 possible, to prevent the occurrence of such melancholy 
 apostasies, which interrupted the peace and prosperity 
 of the Christian society, and brought a stain on the 
 Christian name, was a consummation devoutly Avished 
 for by the pious fathers of the primitive age ; and, 
 accordingly, animated by a spirit of holy jealousy, 
 they adopted the rule, which soon came into universal 
 practice, of instituting a severe and protracted inquiry 
 into the character and views of candidates for admission 
 to the communion of the Church, — of not suddenly 
 advancing them to that honourable degree, but of 
 continuing them for a limited period in a state of pro- 
 bation.* It was thus that the order of the catechumens 
 arose, — an order wdiich, though unknown to the age of 
 Peter and Paul, boasts of a very early introduction into 
 the primitive Church ; and at whatever period its date 
 may be fixed, its origin is to be traced to the laudable 
 
 * Ryan's Effects of Religion on Mankind, p. 274. 
 
132 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 desire of more fully instructing young converts in the 
 doctrines of the Christian faith, and at the same time 
 affording them opportunities to give evidence of the 
 sincerity of their profession, by the change of their 
 lives and the holiness of their conversation,* 
 
 The children of Christian parents, being already 
 baptized in their infancy, were admitted to the rank 
 of catechumens, as soon as they were susceptible of 
 religious instruction. But as a great proportion of the 
 candidates for admission to the Church, consisted in 
 the primitive ages of converts from heathenism, that 
 order was generally composed of persons of mature 
 years, and the manner in which they were entered on 
 its lists was as follows : — The moment that a heathen 
 announced his resolution to abandon the religion of 
 his fathers, and to embrace that of Jesus, he was 
 introduced to the pastor of the place, who, having laid 
 his hand upon his head, a ceremony of very frequent 
 use in all the offices of the ancient Church, and prayed 
 that he might become a partaker of the grace of the 
 Gospel, consigned him to the care of some missionaries, 
 whose duty it was, from time to time, to wait upon 
 him privately, and in his own house, to instruct him 
 in the elementary principles of the Christian faith. + 
 At an appointed time, and when he had satisfied his 
 private instructors of his capacity to profit by the 
 services of the Church, he was permitted to come into 
 the congregation, where he stood in a particular place 
 appropriated to the hearers — those Avho were admitted 
 to hear the Scriptures read, and the plain and simple 
 discourses on the fundamental articles of faith and 
 points of duty, which always formed the subject of 
 the preliminary exhortations of the Church. If the 
 proficiency and conduct of the catechumen during his 
 continuance in this lower rank were approved of, he 
 was, at a certain period, advanced to a higher order, 
 
 * King's Prim. Church, part ii. chap. iii. ; Bingham, vol. iv. chap. ii. 
 t Bingham, vol. ii. p. 54. 
 
CLASSES OP CATECHUMENS. 133 
 
 wliich Nvas privileged not only to be present at the 
 reading of the Scriptures, and the delivery of the 
 sermons, but also at the prayers, which we described 
 as concluding the first service. After remaining the 
 appointed time in this more advanced stage of his 
 progress, he was successively privileged to be present 
 at the public prayers of the Church, to hear the dis- 
 courses addressed to the faithful on the higher and more 
 abstruse doctrines of Christianity, and even to witness, 
 at a humble distance, the dispensation of the Lord's 
 Supper.* He was then considered ripe for baptism, 
 and immediately put on a new course of discipline, 
 preparatory to partaking of the holy mysteries at the 
 next celebration of the solemnity. Hitherto he had 
 been trained, by a regular course of catechetical instruc- 
 tions in private, to a knowledge of the leading doctrines 
 and duties of the Gospel, and now he was subjected 
 to frequent and minute examinations in public on 
 every branch of his religious education. If approved, 
 he was forthwith instructed in some of the sublimer 
 points of Christianity, which had been hitherto with- 
 held from him, — such as the doctrine of the Trinity, 
 the union of the divine and human natures in Christ, 
 the influences of the Spirit, and the way in which a 
 participation of the symbols of the Saviour's love gives 
 spiritual nourishment to the soul. He was allowed 
 to employ the Lords prayer, — the use of which was 
 considered as the exclusive privilege of his adopted 
 children; and was enjoined to commit to memory the 
 creed, as a formula which embodied, in a small com- 
 pass, all the grand articles of revealed truth, which it 
 had been the object of his protracted discipline to 
 teach him. For twenty successive days he continued 
 a course of partial fasting, during which he had daily 
 interviews with his minister, who, in private, and 
 secluded from the presence of every other observer, 
 endeavoured, by serious discourse, to impress his mind 
 
 « Mosheim de rebus Christ., pp. 305, 320. 
 
134 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 with a sense of the iraportant step he was about to 
 take, — and more especially, prayed with him, in the 
 usual solemn form, by imposition of hands, that he 
 might be delivered from any evil spirit that had pos- 
 session of his heart, and be enabled to consecrate 
 himself a living sacrifice to God and the Saviour. Such 
 was the discipline of the catechumens, — a discipline 
 to which all ranks and descriptions of men, who were 
 desirous of being admitted into the bosom of the 
 Church, were in primitive times indiscriminately sub- 
 jected. " None," to use the words of Lord King, 
 " were permitted to enjoy the privileges of the faith- 
 ful, till they had in a manner merited them, — which 
 was, when they had, through a considerable time of 
 trial, manifested the sincerity of their hearts by the 
 sanctity and purity of their lives. When they had 
 changed their manners, and rectified their former 
 habits, then they were washed with the waters of 
 baptism, and not before." 
 
 The period during which they continued this course 
 of preparation varied in different places, and was, 
 indeed, often regulated by no other rule than the pro- 
 ficiency of the candidates. In general, it lasted for 
 two or three years ; though, in cases of severe indis- 
 position and imminent danger, the probation was short- 
 ened, and the most benevolent and anxious provision 
 made to dispense to the sick or dying catechumens, 
 whose life was consistent with their views, though 
 they had not completed their appointed time of disci- 
 pline, all the comforts which a participation in the 
 privileges of the Church could give.* But when no 
 such pressing emergency occurred, the young disciple 
 was left to accomplish his noviciate in the ordinary 
 course ; and it was only by slow and progressive steps 
 he ascended to the standard of knoAvledge and virtue 
 that gave him a passport to the region of the faithful. 
 During the whole of that initiatory process, the sacred 
 
 * rieury, p. 181. 
 
MYSTERIES. 135 
 
 mysteries were kept an inviolable secret, — were as 
 studiously concealed from the knowledge of the cate- 
 chumens as from the profane eyes of unbelieving Jews 
 and heathens. Not only were persons of that order 
 not permitted to be present at the celebration of the 
 holy rite ; but — to tell them the manner in which it 
 was administered, to mention the Avords used in the 
 solemnity, or to describe the simple elements of which 
 it consisted, were themes the initiated were as strictly 
 forbidden to touch upon, as if they had been laid 
 under an oath of secresy. Not a hint was allowed to 
 be given, nor a whisper breathed on the subject, till the 
 catechumens had arrived at that stage of advancement 
 when it was considered safe and beneficial to reveal 
 it. Even the ministers, Avhenever they were led, in 
 their public discourses, to speak of the sacraments, or 
 the higher doctrines of faith, contented themselves 
 with remote allusions, or with this phraseology, — The 
 faithful know what is meant ; nor did they ever write 
 about them, except through the medium of figurative 
 and enigmatical expressions, for fear of giving that 
 which is holy unto dogs, or casting pearls before swine.* 
 This veil of mystery, which the discipline of the pri- 
 mitive Church so carefully drew around her solemn 
 ordinances and higher doctrines, was framed with a 
 well-meant adaptation to the habits of the heathen, who, 
 familiar, from their earliest years, with rites shrouded 
 in impenetrable and mysterious darkness, might have 
 stumbled, it was feared, at the threshold of a reli- 
 gion from which all sensible mysteries were entirely 
 banished ; and who, accustomed to the imposing cere- 
 monies that lent their charm to the ritual of heathen 
 temples, might have turned with contempt from a wor- 
 ship where there was no altar, and no greater solem- 
 nity than the dispensation of common bread and wine. 
 By keeping these in temporary concealment, it was 
 thought that curiosity would be excited, and young 
 
 * Mosheim de rebus Christ., p. 526. 
 
136 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 disciples kept on the tiptoe of expectation and desire, 
 till, being duly instructed in the principles and the spirit 
 of Christianity, they would be gradually weaned from 
 the gross and sensual ideas they had been taught to 
 associate with religion, and be prepared to appreciate 
 the few and simple rites which the Divine Author of 
 the Gospel had appointed. Part of this discipline was 
 doubtless dictated by the true spirit of Christian wis- 
 dom. It was most proper and necessary, and advan- 
 tageous both to the interests of religion and to the 
 comfort and spiritual wellbeing of the converts them- 
 selves, that a course of preparatory instructions should 
 be prescribed, which would fit them for becoming 
 enlightened and steady members of the Church, and 
 for duly profiting by its appointed ordinances ; but to 
 shut up the sacred rites of Christianity from the know- 
 ledge of all who did not participate in them, betrayed 
 a spirit foreign to that of the Gospel, and akin to the 
 policy which originated the mysteries of Eleusis. It 
 was no doubt resorted to as a measure of expediency, 
 in the peculiar circumstances and state of the primi- 
 tive Church ; nor should we lightly pass the sentence 
 of censure or condemnation on a discipline which 
 originated in a truly pious age, and the manifest ten- 
 dency of which Avas to create a high veneration for 
 the ordinances of the Gospel. But it was a depar- 
 ture from the simple practice of the apostles and their 
 contemporaries, and it was the occasion of opening, 
 at no distant period, the flood-gates of the grossest 
 superstition. 
 
 Baptism, the rite with which an approved course 
 of discipline was crowned, was regarded by the pri- 
 mitive Christians with sentiments of extraordinary 
 reverence. Independently of the sacred interest that 
 was attached to it, as an ordinance of the Saviour, 
 instituted among the last words he spoke on earth, 
 and associated with the promise of his gracious pre- 
 sence and blessing to the end of the world ; — indepen- 
 
BAPTISM. 137 
 
 (lently, too, of the invaluable spiritual blessings of 
 which it was the sign, and which, no doubt, were the 
 primary causes of all the value set upon it, it acquired 
 an adventitious importance of no ordinary kind' in the 
 eyes of men, who could not arrive at it but by a course 
 of laborious and prolonged preparation, — into whose 
 minds the sentiment was instilled from day to day, 
 that baptism would sever them from the world, and 
 seal their union to Christ as their spiritual master ; and 
 whose desires to attain that distinguished honour were 
 for two or three years before wound up to a pitch of 
 the highest excitement. Previously to their reception 
 of this initiatory rite, they Avere scarcely recognised as 
 in the ranks of Christians. They were regarded, in- 
 deed, as standing a step higher than Jews or heathens, 
 but still occupying the lowest grade in the Church, — 
 were treated by the faithful with the condescending 
 sympathy and tenderness shown by superiors to those 
 beneath them, — not with the kiss of peace, and the 
 overflowings of affection bestowed upon the brethren, 
 — and spoken of by names, implying that they were as 
 yet in a state of non-existence in regard to the pro- 
 fession of Christianity. The ceremony that ushered 
 them into Christian society, naturally drew to itself, 
 in these circumstances, all the interest of an event, 
 that constituted an era in their religious history ; and 
 not more ardently does the minor long for the period 
 that Avill raise him to the dignity of manhoocl, and 
 give him the Iree and uncontrolled disposal of his 
 affairs ; not more impatiently does the apprentice 
 anticipate the term which will emancipate him from 
 the shackles of servitude, and announce him to the 
 world as master of his art, — than the catechumen, 
 looked forward to baptism as the period of his attain- 
 ing the dignity of a follower of Christ, — as the passage 
 from the threshold to the interior of the Church, — the 
 passport to the privileged ranks of the faithful, — the 
 
138 MANNER IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 badge by which he was stamped as an illuminated, 
 approved, and perfect Christian.* 
 
 This ordinance was dispensed at all times, in private 
 and in public, by night and by day. The moment 
 that a catechumen had satisfactorily completed his 
 appointed probation, he might claim the administra- 
 tion of baptism, and the zeal of the primitive age was 
 always so ready to give encouragement to the young 
 convert, that his pastor would have complied with his 
 wishes by admitting him to the holy rite, at whatever 
 period his noviciate was ended. But as a large pro- 
 portion of the candidates for baptism were adults, — 
 persons of mature years, w^ho came from the ranks of 
 heathenism to join the Christian society, — and as great 
 numbers were always passing through their appointed 
 trials at the same time, it became customary to intro- 
 duce these into the church in a body ; and hence two 
 or three periods in the year, such as the days that 
 preceded the celebration of any of the gi'cat festivals, 
 were selected as the most convenient for baptizing 
 them.t The place where the rite was performed was 
 long as unsettled and fluctuating as the time, — the 
 ordinance being administered indifferentlv, in a house 
 or a prison — by a river side, or the sea shore, — in salt 
 water, or in fresh, according to the convenience or 
 situation of the party. But in after- times, Avhen the 
 form of Christian worship was duly established, it was 
 usual to administer the ordinance in a baptistery or 
 font, belonging to the church, situated at first in the 
 porch, as emblematical of the rite being the entrance 
 into the society of the faithful ; but afterwards fenced 
 in the body of the church itself. It was a spacious 
 receptacle, contrived as well for the accommodation of 
 
 * Persons baptized were said to be illuminated, from tlieir being then 
 enlightened in a knowledge of the mysteries previously concealed from 
 them, — to be approved and perfect, as having passed through the state of 
 the catechumens with approbation, 
 
 t Cave's Primitive Christianity, part i. chap. x. ; King's Primitiye 
 Church, part ii. chap. v. 
 
PLACE, TIME, AND MANNER OF DISPENSATION. 139 
 
 several persons at a time, which the number of the 
 candidates often made necessary, as adapted to the 
 mode of baptizing then generally adopted. In situa- 
 tions Avhere there was a scarcity of water, or in cases 
 of sickness and imminent danger, the ordinance was 
 administered by sprinkling, — and this being in the 
 latter circumstances generally performed at the bed- 
 side of the convert, received the name of clinick 
 baptism, — a form which, however necessary it was 
 considered, was yet looked upon as imperfect, and as 
 interposing an obstacle to the future advancement of 
 the person so baptized to any of the offices of the 
 ministry. AVith the exception of such cases, however, 
 the mode which seems to have been most prevalent 
 was by immersion ; and, while, from the greatest 
 number of the primitive Christians being natives of 
 the warm climates of the East, it was most suited to 
 their habits to plunge the whole body under water, 
 it was thought that this practice more fully answered 
 to the idea of being buried with Christ in baptism ; 
 and their coming out of the element, to that of rising 
 with him to newness of life. The wooden structure 
 in which it was performed, was divided by a partition 
 wall, for the orderly and decent accommodation of the 
 persons about to be baptized. The men were waited 
 upon by deacons, the women by deaconesses ; and 
 the ceremony was gone through always in presence 
 of the assembled congregation, from which, however, 
 they were separated by the little tenement appropriated 
 for the action. 
 
 From the peculiar notions entertained of the virtues 
 of baptism, there gradually arose several superstitious 
 customs, one of the most prevalent of which was that 
 of postponing the reception of the rite till an indefinite 
 period after the catechumenship had terminated. In 
 the beginning of the third century, the spirit of the 
 age, which was peculiarly prone to multiply obser- 
 vances, and to cherish a reverence for times and 
 
140 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 seasons, prompted many even of the greatest and most 
 pious men of the time, to defer their baptism till the 
 close of life. Witness the well-known cases of Con- 
 stantine and Constantius, both of whom, though they 
 had long made a public profession of Christianity, re- 
 mained unbaptized till they were on their death-beds, 
 — and the not less notorious example of Theodosius, 
 Avho, though all his lifetime sustaining an eminent 
 character for piety, did not apply for baptism till he 
 was overtaken by a dangerous illness, from which, 
 however, he afterwards recovered.* The reason of 
 this delay of baptism w^as, that the ordinance, being 
 thought of the greatest efficacy in cleansing the whole 
 man, and removing all the stains and defilements of 
 sin, it was supposed that the recipients, when baptized 
 immediately before death, would enter into heaven in 
 greater purity ; and also, because a tedious and trouble- 
 some course of discipline was imposed on all who did 
 not walk up to their baptismal engagements, or who, 
 after receiving the rite, contracted foul impurities, and 
 returned to their former habits of vice.t Persons, 
 however, who entertained such notions of the efficacy 
 of baptism, and of its indispensable necessity to salva- 
 tion, would not always find themselves in a condition 
 to enjoy the comforts of the ordinance ; and circum- 
 stances frequently occurred, which, depriving them of 
 the means and opportunity of obtaining it, led them 
 to sigh, with bitter but unavailing regret, over the 
 custom that occasioned its postponement. The his- 
 tory of Gregory Nazianzen affi)rds a remarkable case 
 in illustration of this. Having received from his ear- 
 liest years a pious, as well as a liberal education, he 
 was a zealous Christian from the time he arrived 
 at maturity, and was fit for entering the world. To 
 complete his classical studies, he was sent, according 
 to the custom of his age, to Athens ; and during his 
 
 * Cave's Liv^es of the Fathers, vol. ii. pp. 26 and 496. 
 t Bingham, vol. ii. p. 132. 
 
STORY OF NAZIANZEN. 141 
 
 voyage to that celebrated seat of learning and science, 
 he was overtaken by a storm, which threatened to 
 consign the ship, and all who were on board, to a watery 
 grave. While the rest of the passengers were giving 
 themselves up for lost, and were bitterly bewailing the 
 sad and untimely fate that apparently awaited them, 
 Gregory was engrossed with reflections of another 
 and more serious description. The apprehension of 
 death and another w^orld had summoned him to re- 
 view his past life, and nothing so pained him as the 
 thought of his being unljaptized, and thereby unen- 
 titled to the privileges of the Christian life. This 
 reflection, brought home to him by the circumstances 
 in the most vivid and alarmin*? manner, wruno; from 
 him the most passionate exclamations of sorrow ; he 
 tore his clothes — threw himself on the floor — uttered 
 such loud and piercing cries, that the very sailors, lay- 
 ing aside the sense of the common danger, came and 
 sat beside him, weeping from sympathy. Recollecting 
 himself, he addressed his prayers to heaven, pleading 
 before God that he was his by private dedication in 
 his early years, and that now, a second time, he 
 devoted himself to God, which he would assuredly 
 confirm by a public baptism, the moment he arrived 
 on land, were it the Divine ^vi\\ to deliver him.* 
 
 Scarcely less importance was attached to the person 
 by whom, and the place at which, the ordinance was 
 administered. Some would not be baptized except 
 by some pastor eminent for his orthodoxy and piety, 
 and were content to wait till they had an opportunity 
 of receiving it from the hands of their favourite idol, 
 — as Augustine used to boast, that he had been ad- 
 mitted to baptism by the celebrated Ambrose.t Some 
 fancied, that to be plunged in the stream whose waters 
 were poured over the sacred person of the Redeemer, 
 was alone sufficient to the purifying of the flesh, — as 
 
 * Cave's Life of Gregory, p. 275. t Lives of the Fathers, vol. ii. p. 393. 
 
 K 
 
142 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 Constantine, who was on his progress to the Jordan 
 for that purpose, when his journey was arrested by 
 death. Others considered it their duty to delay bap- 
 tism till they attained thirty years of age, the period 
 at which Christ was baptized, — as Eusebius was not 
 baptized when elected Bishop of Cesarea, and Perpetua 
 till she was thrown into prison, a little before her mar- 
 tyrdom.* While another class selected one of the 
 annual festivals, as the fittest season for their baptism 
 — Epiphany, as the time when Christ was baptized, 
 — or Easter, that they might die with him, — or Whit- 
 suntide, that they might celebrate with due honour 
 the descent of the Holy Ghost. All these customs 
 originated either in the fancy and caprice of indivi- 
 duals, or in a superstitious attachment to times, places 
 and persons, — when Christians had begun to rest the 
 efficacy and virtue of the ordinance less on the thing 
 signified, than on the outward circumstances "with 
 which the celebration was associated. t 
 
 The rite of baptism was originally administered in 
 a very simple manner — the apostles and their contem- 
 poraries contenting themselves with an appropriate 
 prayer, and the subsequent application of the element 
 of water. At an early period, however, a variety of 
 ceremonies was introduced, with the pious, though 
 mistaken view, of conveying a deeper and more 
 solemn impression of the ordinance, and affording, by 
 each of them, a sensible representation of the grand 
 truths and spiritual blessings of w hich it is significant. 
 The baptismal season having arrived, those catechu- 
 mens who w^ere ripe for baptism, and who w^ere then 
 called competentes, or elect, were brought to the bap- 
 tistery, at the entrance of which they stopped, and 
 then mounting an elevated platform, where they could 
 be seen and heard by the whole congregation of the 
 faithful, each, with an audible voice, renounced the 
 devil and all his w^orks. The manner in which he did 
 
 * Lives of the Fathers, vol. ii. p, 224. t Neander, p. 275. 
 
ANECDOTE OF AN AFRICAN SLAVE. 1 43 
 
 this, was by standing with his face towards the west, 
 and with some bodily gesture, expressive of the greatest 
 abhorrence, declaring his resolution to abandon the 
 service of Satan, and all the sinful works and pleasures 
 of which he is the patron and the author. This re- 
 nunciation being thrice repeated, the candidate elect 
 turned towards the east — the region of natural light, 
 and therefore fit emblem of the Sun of Righteousness, 
 —made three times a solemn promise and engagement 
 to become the servant of Christ, and submit to all his 
 laws. After this, he repeated the Creed deliberately, 
 clause by clause, in answer to appropriate questions 
 of the minister, as the profession of his faith. It was 
 deemed an indispensable part of the ceremony, that 
 this confession should be made audibly, and before 
 many witnesses; and in those rare and unfortunate 
 instances, where the applicants for baptism possessed 
 not the power of oral communication, this duty was 
 performed through the kind offices of a friend, who, 
 testifying their desire to receive the ordinance, acted 
 as their substitute. In ancient history, an anecdote 
 is told of an African negro slave, who, after having 
 passed satisfactorily through the state of catechumen, 
 and been entered on the lists for baptism, suddenly 
 fell into a violent fever, which deprived him of the 
 faculty of speech. Having recovered his health, but 
 not the use of his tongue, on the approach of the 
 baptismal season, his master bore public testimony to 
 his principles, and the Christian consistency of his con- 
 duct, in consequence of which he was baptized, along 
 Avith the class of catechumens to which he belonged. 
 The profession of faith being ended, and a prayer being 
 offered, that as much of the element of water as should 
 be employed might be sanctified, and that all who were 
 about to be baptized might receive, along with the 
 outward sign, the inward invisible grace, the minister 
 breathed on them, symbolically conveying to them the 
 influences of the Holy Spirit, — an act which, in later 
 
144 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 times, was followed by anointing them with oil, to 
 indicate that they were ready, like the wrestlers in 
 the ancient games, to fight the fight of faith.* The 
 preliminary ceremonies were brought to a close by his 
 tracing on the foreheads of all the sign of the cross, — 
 an observance which, as we formerly remarked, was 
 frequently used on the most common as well as sacred 
 occasions by the primitive Christians, — and to ^yhich 
 they attached a purely Christian meaning, that of 
 living by faith on the Son of God. All things being 
 prepared, and the person about to be baptized having 
 stripped off his garments, the minister took each by 
 the hand, and plunged him thrice under the water, 
 pronouncing each time the name of the three persons 
 in the Godhead. The newly baptized having come 
 out of the water, was immediately dressed by some 
 attendants in a pure white garment, which signified, 
 that having put off his old corrupt nature, and his 
 former bad principles and practices, he had become a 
 new man. A very remarkable example of this cere- 
 mony occurs in the history of the celebrated Chrysos- 
 tom. The conspirators who had combined to ruin 
 that great and good man in Constantinople, resolved 
 on strikingf the first blow on the eve of an annual 
 festival, at the hour when they knew he would be 
 alone in his vestry, preparing for his duty to the can- 
 didates for baptism. By mistake, they did not arrive 
 till he had begun the service in the church. Heated 
 with wine, and goaded on by their malignant passions, 
 they burst into the midst of the assembly, most of 
 whom were yomig persons, in the act of making the 
 usual profession of their faith, and some of whom had 
 already entered the waters of the baptistery. The 
 whole congregation were struck with consternation. 
 The catechumens fled away naked and wounded to 
 the neighbouring woods, fields, or any places that 
 
 * Jortin says that oil was not used till the days of Justin. — Re?narks on 
 Jicclesiastical History, vol. ii. p. 37. 
 
WHITE GARMENTS. 145 
 
 promised them shelter from the massacre that was 
 perpetrating in the city. And next morning, as soon as 
 it had dawned, an immense meadow was seen covered 
 all over with white, — on examining which, it was 
 found to be filled with catechumens who had been 
 baptized the night before, and who were then, ac- 
 cording to custom, dressed in their white garments, 
 amounting in number to three thousand.* Those 
 white garments, after being worn a week, were thrown 
 aside, and deposited in the antechamber of the church, 
 where, with the name of the owner inscribed on each, 
 they were carefully preserved as memorials of baptism, 
 ready to be produced against them in the event of 
 their violating its vows. A memorable instance of 
 this use of them occurs in the history of the primitive 
 age. A Carthagenian, who had long been connected 
 >vith the Christian Church of his native city, at length 
 apostatized, and joining the ranks of its enemies, be- 
 came one of the most violent persecutors of all who 
 named the name of Christ. Through the influence 
 of friends, he was elevated to a high civil station, the 
 powers of which he prostituted to the cruel and bloody 
 purpose of persecuting his former fiiends. Among 
 those who were dragged to his tribunal was a deacon, 
 once an intimate friend of his o\^^l, and who had 
 been present at his baptism. On being put to the 
 rack, he produced the white garments of the apostate, 
 and in words that w^ent to the heart of all the by- 
 standers, solemnly declared that these would testify 
 against his unrighteousness at the last day. 
 
 Immediately after the baptism, the new^-made mem- 
 bers, in their snow-white dress, took their place among 
 the body of the faithful, each of whom that was near 
 welcomed them as brethren with the kiss of peace ; 
 and, as being admitted into the family of God, whose 
 adopted children alone are entitled to address Him as 
 " Our Father," they were permitted, for the first time, 
 
 * Lives of the Fathers, vol. ii, p. 496. 
 
146 MANNERS IN REGARD TO PUBLIC WORSHIP. 
 
 publicly to use the Lord's Prayer and to partake of 
 the communion. 
 
 Besides, at this period, they generally assumed a 
 new name. Many of the names in familiar use among 
 the heathens being borrowed from those of the objects 
 of their worship, the converts to Christianity deemed 
 it becoming and consistent with their new principles, 
 to change their family name for others that had been 
 borne by some distinguished personage in the history 
 of their faith, or that was significant of some virtue 
 recommended by it. Hence we find many in the 
 primitive ages bearing the name of prophets and 
 apostles, and even of the Christian graces ; such as,^in 
 Greek, Eusebius, Eustachius, Gregory, Athanasius ; 
 and in Latin, Pius, Fidus, Speratius.* An example 
 may be given from the interesting history of the Mar- 
 tyrs of Palestine. " AYhen the governor," says the 
 historian, " had made trial of their invincible fortitude 
 by tortures in every form, he asked the chief person 
 among them ' who he was,' and heard in answer, not 
 a real or common name, but that of some one of the 
 prophets. For it happened, that those men, having 
 laid aside the name by which, as received by their 
 parents, they were called, as being the appellations of 
 idols, had assumed unto themselves <^ther names; and 
 one mioht have observed them us'iio' the names of 
 Elias, or Jeremiah, Samuel, or Daniel ; and thus show- 
 ing themselves to be, not in deeds alone, but even 
 in their very appellations, as ' that Jew who is such 
 inwardly,' and as that Israel of God who is such really 
 and in sincerity." f 
 
 * Fleury's Moeurs des Chretiens, p. \48. 
 
 t Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. iii. p. 63. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 SEVERITY OF DISCIPLINE— TENDERNESS AND SORROW FOR THE OFFENDER — 
 TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF EXCOMMUNICATION — HUMILIATING POSTURES 
 AT THE GATE OF THE CHURCH — DURATION OF BANISHMENT FROM THE 
 CHURCH— SOLEMN MANNER OF RESTORING OFFENDERS— THE REASON 
 OF SO SEVERE AND PROTRACTED DISCIPLINE — IMPAUTIALITY OF IT — 
 STORY OF THEODOSIUS. 
 
 AViDELY as society among the primitive Cliristians 
 was pervaded with the leaven of a pure and exalted 
 moralitj, and well adapted as were the means they 
 took to preserve that higli standard of piety and virtue, 
 their history bears melancholy evidence, that no pre- 
 cautions are sufficient to protect the purest associations 
 of men from the intrusion of the unworthy. Even in 
 the earliest age of the Church, when the number of 
 the disciples was small, and the apostles themselves 
 presided over the interests of the infant body, the rules 
 of Christian propriety were frequently violated, and 
 the most odious forms of hypocrisy and vice were 
 found lurking under the cloak of a religious profession ; 
 and it is not surprising, therefore, that as Christianity 
 enlarged her boundaries, and saw multitudes flocking 
 to her standard in every region of the world, the num- 
 ber of delinquents proportionally increased. While 
 some who had embraced the cause of Jesus from low 
 and selfish considerations, and others who had brought 
 over to the new religion a lingering attachment to the 
 
1 48 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 habits of the old, were often found acting in a manner 
 that disgraced the Christian name, or betrayed a spirit 
 at variance with the requirements of the Gospel, a 
 more numerous class were driven, through weakness, 
 or the fears of persecution, to apostatize from the faith, 
 and defile themselves again with the profane rites of 
 idolatry; and no description of offenders — not even 
 those who were guilty of the gi'ossest immorahties — 
 appeared in the eyes of the primitive Church to have 
 more degraded themselves, and to be covered Tsith a 
 darker shade of guilt, than those who, from a cow- 
 ardly apprehension of torture and death, relapsed into 
 the abominations of heathenism . From various causes, 
 then, partly arising from the peculiar circumstances of 
 the times, partly traceable to the general corruption 
 of human nature, the primitive Christians were ever 
 and anon distressed with the discovery of offences 
 committed by some of their body against the name or 
 the principles of Jesus ; and accordingly, one branch 
 of their manners that presents itself pre-eminently to 
 our notice, throughout the whole of their history, is 
 the mode of treatment they observed towards their 
 erring or fallen brethren. 
 
 That treatment was characterised by a rigour and 
 an impartiality to which the discipline of succeeding 
 ages has seldom furnished a parallel ; and indeed it 
 is not wonderful, that they who adopted such extra- 
 ordinary means to prevent the introduction of vicious 
 or unworthy men into the church, should have been 
 equally anxious for the stern and unsparing exclu- 
 sion of all who Avere afterwards found wanting in the 
 requisite qualities of faith and holiness. AVhatever 
 other faults the primitive Christians fell into at differ- 
 ent periods, at no time did they lay themselves open 
 to the imputation of laxity. On the contrary, so much 
 did a severe and inflexible virtue regulate the terms 
 of membership during the whole period within which 
 they flourished, that no sin, whether of that scandal- 
 
TENDERNESS AND SORROW FOR OFFENDERS. 149 
 
 ous description that outrages every feeling of decency, 
 or of that milder character that implies only an incon- 
 sistency "vvith the spirit of the Gospel, was allo^ved 
 to pass, without receiving a due measure of censure or 
 condemnation. Each successive age, though it added 
 in many other respects to the religious observances of 
 the preceding, transmitted the ancient discipline of the 
 church unimpaired to posterity, and endeavoured to 
 preserve the Christian society as a sacred enclosure, 
 within whose precincts nothing unclean or unholy was 
 permitted to enter or continue. But however firm and 
 vigorous the hand with which they wielded the reins 
 of discipline, they always tempered the infliction with 
 the aftectionate spirit of Christian love, and combined 
 unqualified detestation of the sin with lively pity and 
 concern for the sinner. While, in executing that 
 painful duty, they knew no man after the flesh, — 
 would have addressed the language of reproof, — or 
 passed the sentence of a long exile from the com- 
 munity of the faithful on their dearest earthly friend, 
 if he deserved it, — they mourned over the fall of an 
 erring disciple as much as if they had been suffering a 
 personal or family bereavement. The day on which 
 such a doom was sealed, was a season of universal and 
 bitter lamentation. The aged considered themselves 
 as having lost a son or a daughter — the young, as 
 having been severed from a brother or sister. Every 
 one felt that a tie had been broken, and that an event 
 had occurred which could be considered in no other 
 light than as a dire and wide- spread calamity. Be- 
 fore, however, they allowed matters to reach that pain- 
 ful extremity, they never failed to resort to every 
 means, in private, of reproving and admonishing the 
 brother whom they saw to be in fault ; and it was not 
 till after they had tried all the arts of persuasion, and 
 their repeated efforts had proved unavailing, that they 
 brought the case under the notice of the Church, and 
 subjected the offender to that severe and impartial 
 
150 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 ordeal whicli few but the most daring and incorrigible 
 had the hardihood to abide. It is scarcely possible 
 for us, who live in a state of society so different, to 
 conceive the tremendous effect of a sentence which cut 
 off an obstinate offender from all connection with the 
 church, and wliich, being solemnly pronounced in the 
 name of God, seemed to anticipate the award of the 
 judgment- day. Looking upon the fallen disciple from 
 that moment as an enemy of Christ and a servant of 
 the devil, the brethren avoided his presence as they 
 would have fled from plague or pestilence. They were 
 forbid to admit him to their house, to sit with him at 
 table, or to render him any of the ordinary offices of 
 life ; and the man who should have been detected in 
 his company, would have run the hazard of bringing 
 his own character into suspicion, and of being thought 
 a guilty partner of the other's sins. "' 
 
 Few but those in whom lono; habits of secret wick- 
 edness had almost obliterated every religious feeling, 
 could remain long undisturbed and tranquil in a state 
 which, considered as forsaken by God as well as by man, 
 w^as attended with such a tremendous load of present 
 misery, and which imagination associated with the 
 terrors of a dark and unknown futurity. The hearts 
 even of the most hardened, if they bore up for a while, 
 through their corrupt nature, and the love of their sin- 
 ful practices, soon felt this unnatural boldness give 
 way, — and becoming alive to all the wretchedness of an 
 excommunicated state, the unhappy sinners, like per- 
 sons standing on the brink of despair, placed themselves 
 again at the gate of the church, and implored, in the 
 most importunate and abject manner, to be delivered 
 from a condition which was more dreadful than death 
 itself. From day to day they repaired to the cloisters, 
 or the roofless area of the church, — for no nearer were 
 they allowed to approach it, — and there they stood, 
 
 * Cave's Primitive Christianity, part iii. chap. v. ; King's Primitive 
 Church, part i. chap. viii. 
 
TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF EXCOMMUNICATION. 151 
 
 in the most humble and penitent attitude, with down- 
 oast looks, and tears in their eyes, and smiting on their 
 breasts; or threw themselves on the ground at the 
 feet of the faithful, as they entered to worship, beg- 
 ging an interest in their sympathies and their prayers, 
 — confessing their sins, and crying out that they were 
 as salt which had lost its savour, lit only to be trod- 
 den under foot. For weeks and months they often 
 continued in this grovelling state, receiving from the 
 passengers nothing but the silent expressions of their 
 pity. Not a word was spoken, in the way either of 
 encouragement or exhortation ; for during these humi- 
 liating stations at the gate, the offenders were consi- 
 dered rather as candidates for penance than as actually 
 penitents. When at last they had waited a sufficient 
 length of time in this state of affliction, and the silent 
 observers of their conduct Avere satisfied that their 
 outward demonstrations of sorrow proceeded from a 
 humble and contrite spirit, the rulers of the church 
 admitted them within the walls, and gave them the 
 privilege of remaining to hear the reading of the 
 Scriptures and the sermon. The appointed time for 
 their continuance among the hearers being completed, 
 they were advanced to the third order of penitents, 
 whose privilege it was to wait until that part of the 
 service when the prayers for particular classes were 
 offered up, and to hear the petitions which the minis- 
 ter, with his hands on their heads, and themselves on 
 their bended knees, addressed to God on their behalf, 
 for his mercy to pardon and his grace to help them. 
 In due time they were allowed to be present at the 
 celebration of the communion, and the edifying ser- 
 vices that accompanied it ; after witnessing which, 
 and offering, at the same time, satisfactory proofs of 
 that godly sorrow which is unto salvation, the term of 
 penance ended. 
 
 The duration of this unhappy banishment from the 
 peace and communion of the church lasted for no 
 
152 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 fixed time, but was prolonged or shortened according 
 to the nature of the crime, and the promising charac- 
 ter of the offender. The ordinary term was from two 
 to five years. But in some cases of gross and aggra- 
 vated sin, the sentence of excommunication extended 
 to ten, twenty, and thirty years ; and even in some 
 cases, though rarely, to the very close of life. During 
 the whole progress of their probation, the penitents 
 appeared in sackcloth and ashes : the men were obliged 
 to cut off their hair, and the Avomen to veil themselves, 
 in token of sorrow. They were debarred from all the 
 usual comforts and amusements of life, and obliged to 
 observe frequent seasons of fasting, — an exercise which, 
 in the ancient Church, especially among the Chris- 
 tians of the East, was deemed an indispensable con- 
 comitant of prayer. On the day appointed for their 
 deliverance fi-om this humiliating condition, they came 
 into the church in a penitential garb of sackcloth, and 
 with a trembhng voice and copious tears, took their 
 station on an elevated platform, where, in presence of 
 the assembled congregation, they made a public con- 
 fession of their sins, and throwing themselves down on 
 the ground, they besought them to forgive the scandal 
 and reproach they had brought on the Christian name, 
 and to give them the benefit and comfort of their 
 intercessory prayers. The brethren, moved with the 
 liveliest emotions at beholding one, to whom they had 
 often given the kiss of peace, in so distressing a situa- 
 tion, fell on their knees along with him; and the 
 minister, in the same attitude of prostration, laying 
 his hands on the head of the penitent, supplicated, 
 with solemn fervour, the Divine compassion on him, 
 and then raising him, placed him in the ranks of the 
 faithful at the table of communion. 
 
 This severe and protracted discipline, through which 
 offenders, in the primitive Church, were required to 
 pass, — though several outward ceremonies usually en- 
 tered as elements into the observance, — was reckoned 
 
REASON OF DISCIPLINE BEING SO RIGOROUS. 153 
 
 essentially a discipline of the mind; and it was as 
 different from the bodily mortification, in which the 
 votaries of Papal Rome comprise the whole duty of 
 penitents, as the life-giving spirit is from the sense- 
 less form. Two grand and important objects were 
 contemplated in its appointment, — the one to check 
 every sin in the bud, and prevent the contagion of an 
 evil example ; for so jealous were the good and holy 
 Christians of primitive times, of the least dishonour 
 being done to their heavenly Master, or the smallest 
 reproach being cast on his cause, that they lost no 
 time in excluding from their society every one who 
 refused compliance with the precepts of the Gospel, 
 or was not adorned with the fruits of its genuine and 
 consistent disciples ; — the other was to afford penitents 
 sufficient time to prove the sincerity of their sorrow, 
 and to satisfy the Church of their well-founded claims 
 to enjoy its clemency and be restored to its privileges. 
 It was the more necessary to adopt those measures of 
 precaution, that in the days of primitive Christianity, 
 multitudes, who from the ranks of idolatry came over 
 to Christianity, retained a strong predilection for their 
 early indulgences and habits, and Avere the occasion, 
 by their vices and their crimes, of doing injury to the 
 cause they embraced, to an extent of w^hicli we can 
 scarcely form any idea. Accordingly, those who, 
 mider the pressure of severe sickness, or in the imme- 
 diate prospect of death, were absolved and admitted 
 to peace and communion, were, in the event of their 
 recovery, required to place themselves again in that 
 stage of their discipline at which they had arrived 
 when arrested by their indisposition, and to complete 
 the course in due order, as if no^ interruption had 
 occurred ; while, on the other hand, the sins of some 
 were considered as of so black a hue, and involving 
 such enormous guilt, that a lifetime appearing far too 
 short a time to enable them to bring forth fruits meet 
 for repentance, they were doomed by a law, as unal- 
 
154 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 terable as the laws of the Medes and Persians, to live 
 and die under the ban of the Church. In reerard to 
 those cases where penitents, in the progress of their 
 trial, relapsed into sin, they were degraded to a lower 
 rank, and obliged to enter on the task of probation 
 anew, — an obligation, however, which, in such cir- 
 cumstances, was at once a punishment and a favour 
 granted to them as an act of grace, in the spirit of 
 Christian tenderness, — disposed to forbear a little 
 longer with their weakness. But when a person who 
 had gone through the routine of penitential obser- 
 vances, and was restored to the privileges of full 
 communion, repeated his crime, or was convicted of 
 another, the opportunity of again placing himself in 
 the order of penitents was inflexibly denied, and no 
 importunities or tears on his {(art, — no influence nor 
 intercession on that of others, could open the gates 
 of the Church, which thenceforth were for ever shut 
 aofainst him.* 
 
 Nor was the discipline of the primitive Church 
 less distinguished for its impartiality than its rigour. 
 Never was it known that the shield of protection was 
 thrown over the head of a relative or friend ; never 
 did a timid or time-serving policy lead its rulers to 
 shrink from visiting Avith merited punishment the 
 perpetrator of wickedness in high places. Let the 
 ofi^ender be who or what he might, — whether old or 
 young, a male member of the community, or one be- 
 longing to the gentler sex ; whether invested with the 
 sacred office, or moving in the humbler sphere of an 
 ordinary brother ; whether a poor mechanic, or a 
 Christian prince, — all were equally amenable to the 
 laws, — all were doomed indiscriminately to abide the 
 consequences of violating them, — all required to sub- 
 mit to the same tedious and searching ordeal, as the 
 indispensable terms of their restoration to Christian 
 society. The following historical anecdote, out of 
 
 * Neander, sect, xi., part xi. 
 
IMPARTIALITY OF DISCIPLINE. 155 
 
 many similar ones that might be adduced, affords so 
 interesting and remarkable a proof, Avith how steady 
 and equal a hand the reins of ancient discipline were 
 wielded, that we are confident our readers will excuse 
 its insertion. The Emperor Theodosius, who flourished 
 about the year 870, was a prince Avhose character was 
 adorned with many virtues, and who added to the 
 other excellent qualities that distinguished him — a 
 firm and sincere attachment to the Gospel of Christ. 
 As the best of men, however, have their besettinor sins 
 and their inherent faults, Theodosius inherited the 
 infirmity of a keen and impetuous temper, which, on 
 several occasions, hurried him to the inconsiderate 
 adoption of measures wliich he afterwards found cause 
 bitterly to lament. The most memorable of these 
 occasions was the affair of Thessalonica. In that city 
 of Macedonia, some enactments of the emperor had 
 given so great and universal dissatisfaction to the inha- 
 bitants, that they assembled in an uproar, threatening 
 to set the imperial orders at defiance, and sufficiently 
 indicating their determined spirit of resistance by an 
 attack upon the garrison, Avhich was signalized by the 
 massacre of the commanding officer, and several of the 
 soldiery. The intelligence of this untoward event so 
 incensed Theodosius, that he forthwith issued his 
 mandate for reducing the whole city to ashes ; and 
 the bloody edict would have been carried into prompt 
 execution by the military, who participated in the 
 feelings of their monarch, and breathed revenge for 
 the loss of their slaughtered comrades, had not some 
 Christian bishops, by their powerful and importunate 
 intercession, prevailed on the emperor reluctantly to 
 recall his orders. The prime minister, however, was 
 implacable, and by his incessant representations to his 
 imperial master, that so ill-timed clemency would 
 produce the greatest detriment to the public service, 
 and weaken the hands of government especially in the 
 provinces, succeeded in inducing Theodosius to reissue 
 
156 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 his command for exterminating tlie Thessalonians 
 with fire and sword. Seldom have the annals of his- 
 tory been stained with so foul a deed of perfidy and 
 baseness. Proclamation having been made, that on a 
 set day the civil authorities would treat the populace 
 to an exhibition of their favourite games, a vast con- 
 course assembled, and the moment all eyes were rivet- 
 ted to the spot, expecting the spectacle to commence, 
 bands of soldiers rushed furiously from all quarters 
 on the defenceless crowd, slaughtering all without 
 distinction of age, sex, or condition. So dreadful was 
 the massacre, that within three hours, 7000 people 
 were stretched lifeless on the ground. ]\IeanAvhile a 
 messenger had been posting night and day from the 
 palace with a commission to stop the proceedings, the 
 emperor having no sooner consented to the massacre 
 than he relented ; but the deputy did not arrive till 
 the unfortunate Thessalonica had become a city of the 
 dead, and Theodosius had to sustain, in the eyes of 
 God and man, the guilt of such unparalleled cruelty. 
 Not long after, circumstances occurred that rendered 
 it necessary for the emperor to repair to Milan, when 
 the celebrated Ambrose, bishop of the place, ^vrote 
 him a letter, in which he severely reproached him for 
 his base and horrible treatment of the Thessalonians. 
 Nothing is known of the reception given to this letter, 
 or of any farther correspondence that may have passed 
 between them on the subject, till, on the Lord's day, 
 the emperor proceeding to public worship, Ambrose 
 met him at the gates of the church, and peremptorily 
 refused to admit him. This proceeding of Ambrose, 
 extraordinary as it may appear to us, could not have 
 been surprising nor unexpected to his sovereign, who 
 was well aware that the austere discipline of the times 
 doomed offenders of every description to wait in the 
 area or the porticoes of the church, and beg the for- 
 giveness and the prayers of the faithful, ere they were 
 permitted to reach the lowest station of penitents. Self- 
 
STORY OP THEODOSIUS. 157 
 
 love, however, or a secret pride in his exalted station, 
 might perhaps have led Theodosius to hope that the 
 ordinary severity of the Church would be relaxed in 
 his favour, — more especially, as the act imputed to 
 him as a crime was justified by many urgent consi- 
 derations of State policy ; and, under this delusion, he 
 made for the church, never dreaming, it would seem, 
 that whatever demur the minister of Christ mififht 
 make, he would never have the boldness to arrest the 
 progress of an emperor in presence of his courtiers, and 
 of the whole congregation. But the fear of man was 
 never known to have made Ambrose flinch from his 
 duty ; and, heedless of every consideration, but that 
 of fidelity to the cause and the honour of his heavenly 
 Master, he planted himself on the threshold of the 
 church, and vowed, that neither bribes nor menaces 
 would induce him to admit, into the temple of the 
 God of peace, a royal criminal, red with the blood of 
 thousands, who were his brethren, — all of them by the 
 ties of a common nature, — many of them by the bonds 
 of a common faith. Theodosius, thus suddenly put 
 on his self-defence, took refuge in the history of David, 
 who was also a sovereign ; and who, though he had 
 combined the guilt of adultery with that of murder, 
 was yet pardoned and restored to favour by God 
 himself, on the confession of his sins. " You have 
 resembled David in his crime," replied the inflexible 
 Ambrose, " resemble him also in his repentance." 
 Self-convicted and abashed, the emperor abandoned all 
 farther attempts ; and, returning to his palace, during 
 eight months continued in a state of excommunication 
 from Christian fellowship, bearing all the ignominy, 
 and stooping to all the humiliating acts required of 
 those who underwent the discipline of the Church. 
 As the first annual season of communion approached, 
 the anxiety of the emperor to participate in the holy 
 rite became extreme. Often, in the paroxysms of his 
 grief, did he say to the counsellor, who had advised 
 
158 MANNERS IN REGARD TO DISCIPLINE. 
 
 the Draconic edict against the Thessalonians, " Ser- 
 vants and beggars have liberty to join in worship and 
 communion, but to me the church doors, and conse- 
 quently the gates of heaven, are closed; for so the 
 Lord hath decreed, ' Whatsoever ye shall bind on 
 earth shall be bound in heaven.'" At length it was 
 agreed between the prince and his favourite, that the 
 latter should seek an interview with Ambrose, and 
 endeavour to gain him over to employ a privilege of his 
 order, — that of abridging, in certain circumstances, the 
 period appointed for the duration of Church disciphne. 
 The eagerness of his royal master could not wait his 
 return, and, meeting him on his way, he was greeted 
 with the unwelcome intelligence, that the faithful 
 bishop considered it a violation of his duty to remit 
 any part of the just censures of the Church ; and that 
 nothing but submission to the shame and degradation 
 of a public confessicm of his sins could accomplish the 
 object which was dearest to the heart of the royal 
 penitent. On an appointed day, accordingly, Theo- 
 dosius appeared in the church of Milan, clothed in 
 sackcloth ; and, acknowledging the heinousness of his 
 ojffence, the just sentence by which he forfeited the 
 communion of the faithful, and the profound sorrow 
 he now felt for havinor authorised so otoss an outrage 
 on the laws of heaven and the rights of humanit}^ 
 was received, mth the unanimous consent of the whole 
 congregation, once more into the bosom of Christian 
 society. Nothing can aiford a better test of the sim- 
 plicity and godly sincerity of the Christian emperor, 
 than his readiness to assume, in presence of his people, 
 an attitude so humiliating. Plow deep must have 
 been his repentance towards God, — how strong his 
 faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, — and how many plaus- 
 ible reasons of personal honour and public expediency 
 must he have had to encounter, ere he could bring 
 himself, in face of a crowded assembly, to say, as he 
 entered, " My soul cleaveth unto the dust ; quicken 
 
STORY OF THEODOSIUS. 159 
 
 thou me according to thy word ; " and ere he could 
 throw himself prostrate on the ground, to implore the 
 pardon of God and the forgiveness of his fellow-men ! 
 And if this extraordinary history affords an illustrious 
 example of genuine repentance, it exhibits, in no less 
 memorable a light, the strictness and impartiality of 
 primitive discipline. What minister would have dared 
 to impose, — what prince would have submitted to 
 undergo, a course of public penitence, so humiliating 
 and so painful, if it had not been the established prac- 
 tice of the Church to let no offenders escape with 
 impunity.* 
 
 * Cave's lafe of Ambrose. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 DEATH OF CHRISTIANS CALLED THEIR BIRTH— INDIFFERENCE AND BAR- 
 BARITY OF HEATHENS — BURIAL FIRST INTRODUCED BY THE CHRISTIANS 
 — IMPORTANCE ATTACHED TO IT — MOTIVES THAT LED TO A RELIGIOUS 
 ATTENTION TO THE DEAD — ZEAL IN GIVING BURIAL TO MARTYRS — WHOSE 
 BODIES WERE RESCUED — BOUGHT — CARRIED TO DISTANT SEPULCHRES 
 — DESCRIPTION OF THE FUNERAL OBSEQUIES OF THE CHRISTIANS — USE 
 OF PERFUMES — WATCHING THE CORPSE — FUNERAL PROCESSION — SER- 
 VICE AT THE GRAVE — ANNIVERSARY OF DEATH OF PRIVATE CHRISTIANS 
 — AND OF MARTYRS — FESTIVALS — CEMETERIES — CONCLUSION. 
 
 In no respect did the families of the primitive Chris- 
 tians exhibit so great a contrast to those of their 
 heathen neighbours, as when death invaded the do- 
 mestic circle. It is scarcely possible, by any description, 
 to convey an idea of the scenes that passed under the 
 roof of the ancient pagans, when they found themselves 
 in the house of mourning — the extraordinary transition 
 from the silent and suppressed anxiety that watched 
 the bed of the dying relative, to the loud and tumul- 
 tuous lamentations that followed the announcement of 
 his decease, — the beating of their breasts, the tearing 
 of their hair, their frantic cries, and wild gesticulations, 
 that seemed to betoken the agony of despair. These 
 unrestrained expressions of sorrow, not unnatural, 
 perhaps, in those who looked upon death as the pre- 
 cursor of annihilation, were begun the moment that 
 calamity occurred, and were renewed ever and anon, 
 by the arts of mercenary mourners, till the period ar- 
 rived for pronouncing " the last wild w^ord, Farewell ! " 
 
DEATH OF CHRISTIANS CALLED THEIR BIRTH. 161 
 
 But, in the houses of believers, death occasioned no 
 such scenes of noisy and tumultuous grief. That event, 
 which neither the reflections of reason nor the aids of 
 philosophy could enable the votaries of idolatry to view 
 without horror, was contemplated by the followers of 
 Jesus with a calm and settled serenity, which sat on 
 their countenances in the form of patient resignation, 
 and was expressed by their lips in the language of 
 devout acquiescence. While they deemed it allowable 
 and innocent to give vent to the feelings of humanity, 
 in cherishing a holy regret for the friend whose com- 
 pany they had lost, they judged all immoderate grief 
 inconsistent with the principles of those who were 
 "not to sorrow as men without hope." Looking upon 
 death as making but a temporary separation between 
 living and departed friends, — as introducing the soul 
 into the immediate enjoyments of heaven, and as only 
 lulling the body into a state of repose, from M'hich it 
 would be eventually awakened to join its sainted part- 
 ner in the realms of bliss, they mingled their natural 
 lamentations, for the loss of the deceased, with joy 
 that he had now entered on a scene where all the 
 powers of his nature were expanded to their full 
 maturity, and were exercised in perfect blessedness ; 
 and accordingly, they were accustomed, in the fashion 
 of the primitive age, to speak of death as a birth^ — 
 and of their believing relatives, when they died, as 
 then for the first time bot-n. 
 
 The pious care which the Christians took of the 
 mortal remains of their brethren, bore as striking a 
 contrast to the indifference or the unnatural cruelty of 
 their heathen contemporaries, as the feeling with which 
 they respectively met the stroke of death. A stoical 
 apathy about the dead, or an inhuman violation of 
 their remains, was then, as it has ever been, character- 
 istic of idolaters. Some of them remorselessly exposed 
 the lifeless forms of their relatives and friends to be 
 trampled under foot, or devoured by birds and beasts 
 
162 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 of prey ; while others, who boasted a higher place in 
 the scale of civilization, practised a system of funeral 
 rites scarcely less revolting — disembowelling the corpse, 
 as did the ancient Egyptians, and subjecting every 
 member to a disgusting process, in the vain hope of 
 preserving a miserable resemblance to the image of 
 life ; or, as was the custom of the Greeks and Romans, 
 applying the ruthless torch to it, as it lay extended on 
 a heap of wood, till the fire reduced all that once com- 
 manded admiration and love to the blackness and de- 
 foraiity of ashes. Nature, affection, reason, if they 
 eVer pleaded against the inhuman practice, were ex- 
 tinguished at the shrine of a false and degrading reli- 
 gion, and every tender and pleasing association which 
 memory retained, of the beauty and intelligence that 
 played on the living features, was cruelly and at once 
 destroyed, by those whose bleeding hearts often in- 
 wardly rebelled against customs to which they were 
 obliged to conform. Christianity, on her first appear- 
 ance, among the many improvements she made on the 
 temporal habits and usages of men, threw the shield 
 of her protection over the defenceless dead ; and al- 
 though multitudes of her disciples had been taught by 
 education to approve, and by habit to practise, some 
 one or other of the various cruelties which supersti- 
 tion perpetrated on the body, when the spirit had left 
 it, yet no sooner had they embraced the Gospel, than, 
 under the united influence of humanity and religion, 
 their minds recoiled, not less from the spectacle of 
 unburied mortality, than from the barbarities of the 
 funeral pile. From the first, the Christians rejecting 
 these horrid customs, contented themselves with sim- 
 ply removing their dead out of sight, without any un- 
 natural or disgusting attempts to anticipate the process 
 of decomposition. The hour of death, instead of being 
 to them a signal for unfeeling insults on the person of its 
 victims, only gave a new direction to their cares; and, as 
 if the body of their departed friend was still conscious 
 
BURIAL FIRST INTRODUCED BY THE CHRISTIANS. 163 
 
 ft 
 
 of attention, and shrunk, in its humiliating state, from 
 ohservation, they never relaxed their tender offices till 
 thej had conveyed it to a place Avhere death miglit 
 pursue, unobserved in solitude and darkness, the work 
 of destruction he had befjun. Their heathen contem- 
 poraries beheld with admiration a j^ractice which, 
 however dictated by nature, Avas a novelty in the 
 ancient world ; and few things, perhaps, contributed 
 more to soften the prejudices of pagan observers, and 
 Avin them to the cause of Jesus, than the amiable 
 assiduities which Christians of all ranks paid to the 
 departed members of their society, — the decent and 
 respectful care with which not only parents consigned 
 the bodies of their children, and friends those of their 
 friends, but nobles the remains of labourers, and mas- 
 ters those of their meanest slaves, to the bosom of their 
 parent earth.* 
 
 So long as the Christians were allowed the tranquil 
 enjoyment of their religion, they never altered their 
 mode, nor withheld from their departed brethren the 
 honours of burial. The necessary expenses, when the 
 family was poor, were defrayed out of the common 
 treasury of the faithful, and every facility and aid Avas 
 given to all orders of the Christian society to perform 
 a tribute of respect Avhich all deemed it an indispen- 
 sable duty to bestoAv. Not that they Avere haunted 
 by any superstitious dread that the Avant of the rites 
 of sepulture Avould keep the disembodied spirit from 
 the enjoyment of its rest, or destroy, as the heathen 
 supposed, their fond hopes of the resurrection ; — not 
 that, either leaving the body to Avhiten on the ground, 
 or consuming it on the funeral pile, could cause pain 
 to the dead, Avho could not feel, or possessed any 
 terrors to the living, Avho had no fear of death itself; 
 but they shrunk from the thought of exhibiting any 
 cold indifference or inhumanity to a body on Avhose 
 face they had often imprinted the kiss of peace, — 
 
 * Bingham, vol. x. p. 34. 
 
164 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 € 
 
 whose lips had often celebrated the praises of the 
 Saviour, — whose knees had often bent with them at 
 the throne of grace, and towards which thej retained 
 many interesting recollections associated with Christian 
 experience and love. Above all, to a body " whose 
 members had been employed as instruments of the 
 Divine will on earth, though mortal in their nature, 
 they thought the highest marks of honour belonged, 
 on account of the reverence due to that sacred guest 
 that deigned to inhabit, and directed them to the pur- 
 poses of salvation." * Such were the sublime motives 
 by which the Christians, to whom belongs the merit 
 of introducing the practice of interment, were prompted 
 to pay a religious attention to the dead bodies of be- 
 lievers. It was not merely the voice of humanity 
 raising a loud and successful protest against the enor- 
 mities practised by the heathen on their departed sol- 
 diers, — it was not merely the progress of civilization 
 refining and improving the usages of barbarous times, 
 — but it was the pure and instantaneous effect of 
 the religion of Jesus, w^hich represented the material 
 frame of his genuine disciples as still belonging, 
 even when removed from the Avorld, to the commu- 
 nion of saints, and members of the spiritual body of 
 Christ. 
 
 Examples of the pious care which the primitive 
 Christians took of the dead, though occasionally met 
 with in the writings of the early historians of the 
 Church, cannot of course be expected to be either 
 numerous or remarkable, so long as the course of pro- 
 vidence continued in its smooth and ordinary channel. 
 It is times of persecution only, which, by dragging 
 the Christians from the shades of obscurity and re- 
 tirement they courted, and writing their history in 
 the blood of many eminent saints, have drawn the 
 attention of posterity to their exemplary conduct in 
 disposing of the dead ; and accordingly, it is in their 
 
 * Ireland, — Christianity and Paganism compared, p. 153. 
 
ZEAL IN GIVING BURIAL TO MARTYRS. 165 
 
 solicitude about the martyrs who, by their death, 
 sealed their testimony in the face of the world, that 
 their habit of giving to every member of their com- 
 munity the honours of interment, is strikingly dis- 
 covered. No difficulties could prevent, and no dangers 
 deter them, from the performance of this pious office. 
 Over rugged mountains and across rapid rivers, — in 
 the darkness of night, and amid the roar of the wintry 
 tempest, — through the spears of the sentinels, who 
 watched the mangled relics, — amid the risk of con- 
 tagion from the unburied masses of humanity that lay 
 in the streets and houses of infected cities, multitudes 
 who prescribed to themselves this perilous course of 
 charity made their Avay to the scene of martyrdom, 
 and encountered hazards even greater than these, in 
 the execution of their self-imposed task. While the 
 infuriated mob was discharging their concentrated 
 hate on the victims of the rack or the cross, these 
 boldly approached the feet of the confessor, spreading 
 their napkins to receive his broken limbs, or some 
 drops of his blood ; or if the sword of persecution had 
 done its work, they continued with laborious diligence 
 to collect his remains, which were frequently nothing 
 more than bones or ashes — the refuse of the ravenous 
 beasts, or the relics of the funeral pile. Sometimes 
 they offered enormous sums to obtain permission to 
 bury even these ; and at other times, they fell victims 
 to their amiable enthusiasm, and had to depend upon 
 others equally charitable, but more fortunate than 
 themselves, for the last offices, — the resolute attempt 
 to discharge which to a martyred brother had cost 
 their own lives. Often, when an intolerant or un- 
 feeling magistrate had refused their application for 
 the martyr's body, have they watched for a favourable 
 moment, and stealing forth under covert of night, trans- 
 ported it on their shoulders to some distant spot, where 
 they hastily prepared a pit for its reception ; while in 
 other and more auspicious circumstances, they cheer- 
 
166 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE BEAD. 
 
 fully submitted to the greatest fatigue, and incurred 
 heavy expenses in conveying it to the most honourable 
 or appropriate place of burial.* The single circum- 
 stance of a band of Christian friends, who had carefully 
 picked up the scattered bones of Ignatius, amid the 
 sands of the amphitheatre, carrying the remains of that 
 venerable bishop from Rome to Antioch, may be men- 
 tioned, as one example out of many, of their amiable 
 solicitude that the smallest fragment that had belonged 
 to the person of a believer should be treated with 
 respect, — be placed beyond the risk of violation, and 
 buried with the honours due to the living possessor ; + 
 and indeed, among the various channels into which 
 the charity of the primitive Christians poured itself, 
 there was none more frequently necessary, or more 
 highly valued, than that of providing a suitable sepul- 
 chre for a brother who had suffered for the faith. 
 
 In ordinary circumstances, the funeral ceremonial 
 was conducted in a style corresponding to the char- 
 acter and views of the Christians. Having closed 
 the eyes, and washed the body of the deceased, they 
 sprinkled it with a profusion of costly spices and 
 odoriferous ointments, — a part of the preparation for 
 burial held in so great esteem, that care was taken that 
 none of the poorest of the brethren wanted it. This 
 custom was the more remarkable in them, that their 
 general habits were marked by austerity, and by ab- 
 stinence from every thing that tended to foster a love 
 for the gratification of the senses ; and it often drew 
 from their heathen neighbours the sarcastic remark, 
 that the Christians, notwithstanding they affected to 
 abhor all fragrant perfumes, lavished these expensive 
 luxuries at death more extravagantly than others did 
 in life, and that, too, on persons whose situation ren- 
 dered them insensible to the enjoyment. But they 
 mistook entirely the object of the Christians in their 
 
 * Cave's Primitive Christianity, part ii. p. 273. 
 
 t Burton's Lectures on the Eccles, Hist, of the Second Century. 
 
USE OF PERFUMES. 1 6? 
 
 copious use of strong scented odours on these occasions, 
 Avhicli was not done in the vain hope of givinj^ plea- 
 sure to the dead, or heaping attentions on a hody soon 
 to become a prey to corruption, but with the view of 
 shoAving that they looked upon death as a season of 
 joy — not of gloom and despondency, — of testifying 
 their belief that their friend had entered into a new 
 and happier state, — and that he had left them to be 
 present at a joyful festival, whither they hoped soon 
 to go and join his company. These were the cheerful 
 ideas which the sumptuous anointing of the body, pre- 
 vious to burial, was designed to impress on the senses. 
 Nor w^as it practised altogether without other views to 
 the comfort and uses of the living ; for in those frequent 
 troubles that arose in primitive times, and drove the 
 Christians to take refuge in the cemeteries, the strong 
 spices of Saba?a enabled them to remain, and to enjoy 
 the privilege of worship, w ithout any annoyance from 
 the disagreeable effluvia which might otherwise have 
 driven them from these abodes of the dead.* 
 
 While, in common with the Jews, the primitive 
 Christians wrapped the body in the robes of the grave, 
 they first introduced the custom of depositing it in a 
 cothn, made of plainer or costlier materials, as suited 
 the rank or resources of the deceased. During the 
 interval that elapsed between the completion of these 
 preparations and the funeral, one of the family by turns, 
 and occasionally the whole household, accompanied by 
 some of their relatives and Christian neighbours, set 
 themselves to watch the corpse — not, however, in the 
 attitude of mourners who brooded in sad and unbroken 
 silence over their bereavement, — but solacing them- 
 selves with psalmody and prayer, and free conversation 
 on such subjects as w^ere connected with the hope of 
 believers and the joys of the resurrection. The time 
 appointed for the funeral having arrived, the body was 
 
 * Bingham, vol, X. p. 38; Cave's Primitive Christianity, p. 274 ; Fleury, 
 p. 251. 
 
168 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 carried to the grave on the shoulders of the nearest 
 relatives, or of persons of dignity, when the deceased 
 had been of eminent piety, or borne office in the Church, 
 or sometimes of any Christian friends who volunteered 
 their services, to testify their respect for the memory of 
 departed worth. The solemnity was always performed 
 during the day ; and it is the more necessary to take 
 notice of this, because it was an innovation on the long 
 established practice of the heathen, and had to combat, 
 where it was not authoritatively forbidden, the strong- 
 est prejudices which their superstition engendered in 
 the minds of the populace. According to their ideas, 
 to come into contact with a dead body was a presage of 
 misfortune, and the mere sight of a funeral disqualified 
 them for the worship of the gods ; on which account, 
 as well as from its being supposed a fitter season for 
 grief, they invariably solemnised their funeral obsequies 
 in the night. But the Christians, who had no such 
 superstitious fear of receiving contamination from the 
 dead, and who were supported by strong consolation, 
 changed the time of their burials to the day ; and the 
 whole style of the ceremonial observed among them 
 indicated a state of mind that bore a striking con- 
 trast to the gloom and extravagant lamentations of the 
 heathen. The nearest relations only wore dresses 
 slightly betokening grief, while the rest of the attend- 
 'ants were attired in habiliments, whose colour was 
 expressive of cheerfulness and joy. The company 
 consisted of an assemblage of men and women, boys 
 and girls, belonging to the Christian society, and as 
 they moved in procession along, their united voices 
 sung in slow and solemn cadence some pathetic psalm, 
 while the pastor, who on such occasions was always 
 a welcome guest, took his place in the family group, 
 and watching if any of the relatives betrayed symp- 
 toms of weakness, and of nature sinking under the 
 load of long suppressed grief, endeavoured to fortify 
 him with views of the life and immortality brought to 
 
SERVICE AT THE GRAVE. 169 
 
 light by the Gospel, and to remind him, that though 
 a tie had been broken on earth, a new and a hap- 
 pier one had been formed in heaven. This was a 
 noble refinement on the practice of the heathen, whose 
 funeral cavalcades were preceded by the wild and arti- 
 ficial lamentations of the " Prseficfe ;" women, whose 
 mercenary office was to sing the praises of the dead, 
 and employ every art for exciting the tears of surviv- 
 ing friends.* In the simple rites of the Christians, 
 every part was moulded on the faith and hope of 
 the Gospel, and though, from early associations, they 
 continued the vocal and instrumental music, as an 
 indispensable accompaniment of such solemnities, the 
 chanting of hymns that delighted the ear, while they 
 animated the mind " with joy unspeakable and full 
 of glory," was a happy improvement on the forced 
 and hypocritical strains of the ancient mourners. 
 So much admired, indeed, was the change by the 
 Christians, and so prominent a part did the singing of 
 psalms become in their burial service, that to be borne 
 to the grave in silence was looked upon as a great cala- 
 mity, and the sacred dirge was refused to none but 
 those who had laid violent hands on themselves, who 
 had suffered the death of malefactors, or who had 
 lived in the obstinate neglect of baptism. 
 
 On the brink of the grave, it was customary, espe- 
 cially Avhen the deceased had been distinguished by 
 his attainments in faith and holiness, for the pastor 
 to pronounce an oration, the object of which was not 
 so much to eulogize the merits of an imperfect mortal, 
 as to exhort the by-standers to emulate his virtues, and 
 to be followers of him in so far as he had been a follower 
 of Christ. This discourse was succeeded by the singing 
 of an appropriate psalm, by the recitation of a pas- 
 sage of Scripture — generally the fifteenth chapter of 
 1st Corinthians — relating to the future resurrection of 
 the body, and if the funeral took place in the mori;- 
 
 » Neander, vol. i. p. 389. 
 
170 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 ing, by the celebration of the Lord's Supper. The 
 funeral service was concluded with a thanksgiving 
 prayer to God for having brought their departed 
 brother to the knov*'ledge, and kept him by His grace 
 in the way of salvation, and with the expression of a 
 fervent desire, that all present might be enabled to 
 lead the life of the righteous, and their latter end be 
 like his.* The body was then lowered into the grave, 
 and alongside of it were deposited some memorials, 
 attesting the Christianity of the lonely tenant — such 
 as a parchment inscribed with his name and conver- 
 sion, his copy of the Gospels, the instruments of his 
 martyrdom, if he had been a witness for the truth, 
 and a few leaves of evergreen, emblematic of immor- 
 tality. The attending friends then dispersed, after 
 giving a solemn adieu to the grave. This adieu, 
 however, was far from being associated ^vith the notion 
 of eternal separation. Their minds were too warm 
 with the service in which they had been engaged, 
 with the views of that better country to which their 
 faith had been directed, and with the society of the 
 just made perfect there which their friend that was 
 fallen asleep had joined, to admit any other idea than 
 that of a temporary farewell ; and so much were 
 they accustomed to think of their deceased parents, 
 brethren, and children, being still in communion with 
 them, that they always spoke of them as living, as 
 takinof an interest in the welfare of their survivors on 
 earth, and as waiting to greet their arrival in heaven. 
 These views of their unbroken relationship with their 
 glorified friends, which they were never wearied in 
 recalling, gq^ve rise to a custom which obtained no 
 where else but among the primitive Christians. In 
 the houses of their pagan contemporaries, as in those 
 of the generality of men still, the death of one of their 
 members creates a blank, which, however painfully 
 felt for a while, is soon filled up : domestic tranquil- 
 
 * Bingham, vol. x. p. 69 ; Fleury, p. 2G0. 
 
ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH OF MARTYRS. 171 
 
 lity returns — and the incessant occupations of business 
 or pleasure proceed from year to year — while the name 
 of the lost one is seldom if ever mentioned — and at 
 length his memory is as much forgotten as if he had 
 never been. But it was otherwise with the Christians 
 of the first ages. They thought of their departed 
 relatives as men do of a child or a friend who, having 
 emigrated for a season to a foreign land, is expected to 
 mingle again in the family circle ; and with the same 
 lively feelings of interest and joy, with which sojourn- 
 ers at home recall the thoughts of such distant wan- 
 derers, and commemorate the return of their birth-day, 
 or any auspicious event of their history, did the early 
 believers maintain fellowship in spirit with their Chris- 
 tian brethren who had gone to " the undiscovered 
 country." The anniversary of their death was held 
 in the family as a festival sacred to the memory of 
 their Christian worth, and the occasion was still far- 
 ther hallowed by a participation of the Lord's Supper, 
 as celebrated by its first founders. No element of 
 superstition entered into the observance, and the whole 
 of this beautiful domestic solemnity was founded " on 
 the pure evangelic principle of an inseparable com- 
 munion with those who had died in the Lord." * 
 
 The same tone of feeling which introduced into 
 Christian families the custom of commemorating the 
 yearly return of the day on which their believing 
 ancestors had died, led the general community of 
 Christians to celebrate, by a similar memorial, the an- 
 niversary of the martyrs' decease. Of these, some had 
 moved only in a limited sphere, and were embalmed 
 in the recollection of their brethren chiefly in a par- 
 ticular quarter of the world ; and it Avas natural, that, 
 on the first institution of festivals to their honour, 
 different churches should perpetuate the memory of 
 those who had lived and laboured in their own im- 
 mediate circle, and who, though dead, yet spake to 
 
 * Neander, p. 320. 
 
172 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 them in a way the most powerful and affecting, by the 
 uncommon faith and patience with which they had 
 witnessed their good confession. But there were other 
 sufferers for the cause of truth, whose character had 
 become the property, and whose deeds were regarded 
 as the legacy of the Church universal. These were 
 men who, exercising, by their talents or by their zeal, 
 a commanding influence among the followers of Christ, 
 had, in times of persecution, been selected as the espe- 
 cial victims of imperial or popular vengeance ; and 
 who, in circumstances the most trying to the weak- 
 ness of humanity, and in times when their example of 
 constancy was of inestimable value, had borne a glorious 
 testimony, at once to the truth and the power of the 
 Christian faith. The common love which animated 
 the bosoms of the faithful towards all who any where 
 bore the name of Jesus, was, in the case of these emi- 
 nent witnesses for the truth, heightened by sympathy 
 for the sufferings, and by admiration for the virtues, 
 of men who displayed all the qualities of heroes ; and 
 along with these, there was associated a still stronger 
 and higher feeling, — that of reverence for the char- 
 acter of individuals whom the Saviour had counted 
 worthy to suffer for his sake, and on whom, having 
 confessed His name before men, He had conferred the 
 imperishable crown, and glory of martyrdom. The 
 cold admiration which we now feel in perusing the 
 records of those devoted men who, in the early struggles 
 of Christianity, bore the shame and the pain of cruel 
 mockings and scourgings, gives but a faint and feeble 
 reflection of that enthusiasm of ardent affection of 
 which the martyrs were the objects among their Chris- 
 tian contemporaries ; — an enthusiasm all the more 
 intense, that it was confined to the followers of a small 
 and persecuted sect, who, not knowing how soon they 
 might be called to imitate the heroism they admired, 
 were led, by the force of circumstances, to keep the 
 confessors in constant remembrance. Their names 
 
FESTIVALS. ITo 
 
 were familiar as household words ; and their acts were 
 transmitted from sire to son, as, next to the IScriptures, 
 the most favourite lore in the families of Christians. 
 The patriarchal disciple, who could boast of being their 
 contemporary, or an eye-witness of their last hours, 
 never wanted a group of eager and breathless listeners, 
 as often as he chose to recite the story of their faithful 
 contendings, and memorable sayings, and triumphant 
 departure. The glory of the deceased warriors of the 
 Church was exalted 
 
 " Far above all Greek, above all Roman fame." 
 
 The mention of any little anecdote, or the possession of 
 any little memorial of them, operated like a talisman 
 in awakening an interest that was felt at the remotest 
 extremities of the Christian body. 
 
 Such being the halo of interest that encircled the 
 name of the martyrs, it is not surprising that the idea 
 of instituting festivals in memory of them, was no 
 sooner started than it met with the unanimous approval 
 of the churches. As there was scarcely an assembly 
 of Christians to be found, throughout the Roman 
 empire, without multitudes whose veins were warmed 
 by the blood of confessors, the love of family concurred 
 with the sentiment of general admiration in intro- 
 ducing the speedy and universal establishment of the 
 custom ; and the most enlightened and pious among 
 the rulers of the Church lent the weight of their en- 
 couragement, and the sanction of their presence, to an 
 observance which tended so manifestly to foster an 
 emulation of the faith and constancy of holy men. 
 The time fixed for holding these festivals of martyrs, 
 was the anniversary of the day on which they had 
 fallen, as it was thought more suitable to the character 
 of such solemnities, that they should be memorials of 
 the time which put a period to all their sorrows and 
 sins, and ushered the servants of Christ into their 
 heavenly rest ; and accordingly, as in the fashion of the 
 primitive age, these were called their birth-days, thej 
 
 M 
 
1 74 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 were celebrated with gladness and rejoicing, — though 
 in a manner strictly conformable to the nature of the 
 Christian faith and hope. The place of rendezvous 
 was the tombs of the martyrs, situated, for the most 
 part, in wild and distant solitudes seldom traversed 
 by the feet of men, or concealed in the depths of 
 subterranean dungeons, of which no traces were dis- 
 cernible on the smooth surface of the ground, save 
 by the practised eyes of the primitive believers. To 
 these retreats, where every association of time and 
 place thus contributed to heighten the moral im- 
 pressions of the scene, the Christians were peculiarly 
 fond of repairing. Every exertion was made, the 
 greatest sacrifices of time, expense, and convenience, 
 were willingly submitted to by the remoter brethren, 
 to enjoy the privilege of attending the observance; 
 and to have been obliged to be absent on an occasion 
 so interesting to the feelings, and, as it was originally 
 gone about, so conducive to religious improvement, 
 would have been considered one of the greatest pri- 
 vations which a follower of Christ could have been 
 doomed to bear. The approaching return of the 
 anniversary was the signal for families and friends 
 collecting into parties to undertake the journey ; and 
 in times of tranquillity and religious toleration, long 
 before the hour of meeting, groups of Christian tra- 
 vellers appeared bending their steps along the distant 
 heights, to the spot where some martyr had given his 
 memorable testimony. The service was modelled on 
 that of the Sabbath ; and after the Lord's Supper had 
 been partaken of, a collection made for the poor, and 
 a variety of sacred hymns sung, the acts of the martyr 
 whose death was the subject of commemoration, were 
 read publicly, and the whole was concluded by some 
 pastor of eminence for piety and eloquence in moving 
 the passions, enforcing the lessons of faith and holiness 
 that were inculcated in the life and death of the de- 
 parted worthy.* 
 
 * Burton's Lectures ; Bingham, vol. iii. p. 114. 
 
FESTIVALS. 175 
 
 The earliest notice of such commemorations occurs 
 iu the beginning of the second century, on the mar- 
 tyrdom of Polycarp, and the real character of the 
 festival is safficiently determined by the reply of the 
 faithful friends who j)rescribed to themselves the pious 
 task of gatherino: and interring the confessor's bones. 
 
 Co O 
 
 Having deposited, in a suitable place, all that remained 
 of the servant of Christ, they resolved, if Divine Pro- 
 vidence should favour them, to return to the tomb on 
 that day twelvemonths, and celebrate the anniversary 
 of his martyrdom, with the view not only of cherishing 
 the memor}'' of departed worth, but of holding forth 
 the character of that apostolic man for the encourage- 
 ment and support of others, who should be called in 
 after-times to give a similar testimony to the faith. 
 It was a reasonable and a Christian service, in which 
 no element of superstition mingled, and no trace of 
 any sentiment was to be found that was not in perfect 
 unison Avfth gratitude for the grace which had enabled 
 the martyr to triumph in his death. By these annual 
 festivals, the deeds of the martyrs were kept in undying 
 remembrance ; and while the heathen might have long 
 forgotten them, as men Avho were too much accus- 
 tomed to public executions, to make any distinction 
 between the case of a Christian and the crimes of a 
 common malefactor, the brethren rehearsed the forti- 
 tude, the faith, and joy of the cloud of witnesses, and 
 stirred up the fires of zeal in the hearts of survivors. 
 The stories of Polycarp, Ignatius, and Cyprian, were 
 chronicled in every memory, and formed the theme 
 of every tongue ; and the people, animated by the 
 memoirs of men who had been faithful unto death, 
 returned with minds filled with lofty admiration of 
 their virtues, and burning with ardour to emulate their 
 Christian heroism.* 
 
 But this happy influence of the meetings at the 
 tombs of the martyrs did not long survive the age 
 
 * Augustine preached an anniversary sermon at Cyprian's tomb. 
 
176 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 that gave tbem birth. While men repaired to them 
 "with Christian views of the heroism they admired, 
 and the commemoration service was simply an out- 
 pouring of strong, generous, deep-toned sympathy 
 with the principles of those whose dust was sleeping 
 around them, the observance of these anniversaries 
 had a sublime moral effect on the tone of Christian 
 feeling and habits, — it imparted energy to the weak, 
 resolution to the timid, enthusiasm to the lukewarm, 
 added fresh fuel to the flame that already glowed in 
 the bosoms of the devout, and united all classes of 
 the brethren more closely in the bonds of a holy 
 confederacy to contend for the faith once delivered 
 to the saints. In proportion, however, as Christians 
 declined in piety, and showed a disposition to attach 
 more importance to the form than to the spirit of 
 religious solemnities, the memorials of the martyrs 
 gradually lost their character, and became, from various 
 causes, a source of the grossest corruptions. One of 
 these arose out of a simple and beautiful practice. It 
 had been customary, at their anniversaries, as on many 
 other occasions, when the primitive Christians met 
 together, to celebrate a love-feast ; and as the remote- 
 ness of the situation rendered it inconvenient for the 
 wealthier brethren to bring,, as usual, a supply of pro- 
 visions for the common table, the custom gradually 
 crept in of establishing a regular market on the spot. 
 Stalls were placed, booths erected, and articles of food 
 and luxury sold by people who sought to combine 
 attendance on a religious festival with the driving of 
 a gainful traffic. For a long time no evil resulted from 
 this innovation, — the solemnity of the occasion, the 
 vicinity of a hallowed sepulchre, and, above all, the 
 impressive nature of the accompanying services, tend- 
 ing to repress all approach to intemperance. At 
 times, however, scenes of excess and revelry did take 
 place, to the deep regret and mortification of every 
 pious mind ; in consequence of which it Avas resolved, 
 
FESTIVALS. 177 
 
 that the love-feasts, which had been indirectly the 
 occasion of leading to such abuses and dishonour to 
 the martyrs, should be entirely abolished, and the 
 anniversary, restored to its ancient character, should 
 exhibit no kind of preparation or rejoicing but what 
 was strictly in unison with a religious festival.* 
 
 Another corruption of far greater magnitude, and 
 of Avhich the origin was more deeply seated, traced its 
 growth to these yearly solemnities. Each successive 
 generation, as it removed from the times of the mar- 
 tyrs, strove to surpass the preceding in admu'ation of 
 their character and deeds. The more men departed from 
 their spirit, the higher was the regard they cherished 
 for their memory, till they were at length thought of 
 as superior to the common run of humanity, and their 
 tombs approached with a degree of veneration almost 
 bordering on idolatr3\ It was, perhaps, a natural 
 feeling, that any little memorials of these excellent 
 and holy men should be preserved with affectionate 
 solicitude ; and many such interesting legacies, we 
 know, were bequeathed by the martyrs to their relatives 
 and friends, who dared to witness their last testimony, 
 — such as that of a ring, which a dying confessor took 
 from his finger, and plunging it in his blood, gave it to 
 a bystander, with an earnest request, that as often as he 
 looked upon that trinket, he would remember for whom 
 and for what the possessor had suffered ; and of a copy 
 of the Gospels, which was privately given by another to 
 his friend, and the value of which was greatly enhanced 
 by its being inscribed with prayers and devout reflec- 
 tions of the venerable owner. And, perhaps, it was 
 no less a natural feeling, to show every mark of care 
 and respect to their bones and mangled remains, that 
 could be rescued from the fires of martyrdom, as the 
 dust of men whose bodies had been living temples of 
 God, and their organs instruments of doing his will 
 and engaging in his Avorship. But when these natural 
 
 * Cave, ii. p. 278 ; Bingham, vol. ii. p. 75. 
 
178 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 and innocent feelings had assumed the character of 
 superstitious reverence, — when, from hol}^ regTct and 
 reverend rememl)rance, they rose to foolish and igno- 
 rant homage, and from humble thankfulness for the 
 grace that had made them stedfast and immovable, 
 and honoured instruments of testifying the truth and 
 the power of the Gospel, the degenerate professors of 
 Christianity came to ascribe to them attributes, and to 
 dignify them with honours higher than what were due 
 to men, these anniversary memorials of the martyrs 
 became so many polluted fountains, from which was 
 yearly discharged an increasing torrent of superstition 
 on the churches.* Some who brought over with them 
 to Christianity the feelings and associations of pagans, 
 looked upon these nearly in the same light with the 
 feasts of revelry they had been accustomed to celebrate 
 in honour of their gods. Many whose love had waxed 
 cold, and in whom the flame of piety had almost 
 flickered to a close, were anxious to make up for the 
 defects of their religious character by an ostentatious 
 regard for the memory of the faithful confessors ; and 
 thus, from a variety of causes, the solemnity was di- 
 verted from the simple and useful purpose of the insti- 
 tution. Tlie form was religiously retained, the annual 
 honours were faithfully paid to the slumbering relics 
 of mortality, and crowds of travellers, far greater than 
 in earlier times, bent their footsteps to the scene of the 
 observance. But no traces were discernible of that 
 sublime moral influence which the commemoration 
 services had formerly produced, — no heart felt the 
 generous enthusiasm, or was nerved with that energ}'- 
 of feeling and pious resolve, Avhich in a better and 
 purer age had pervaded the worshippers at the tomb 
 of the martyrs. 
 
 These tombs, as well as the sepulchres of ordinary 
 Christians, were situated, as we have already said, in 
 wild and sequestered spots. This practice, which 
 
 * Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. i. p. 152. 
 
CEMETERIES. 179 
 
 early and universally obtained among the followers of 
 Christ, of removing their dead to inaccessible and un- 
 frequented solitudes, originated both in an amiable 
 desire of preserving their graves from violation and 
 insult, and in the painful necessity by which they were 
 often driven to court the most profound obscurity and 
 concealment. Pursued with odium even to the grave, 
 they were denied the privilege of interring the bodies 
 of their deceased relatives and friends in the common 
 cemeteries. By the sides of the roads and highways, 
 the usual burying-places among their Roman contem- 
 poraries, all classes of people might indiscriminately 
 deposit the ashes of their friends, but the proscribed 
 followers of Jesus ; and when, from any circumstances, 
 one of that despised class found a resting-place among 
 the public sepulchres, and some simple monument told 
 that a Christian Avas sleeping underneath, no measure 
 of precaution could save the unconscious occupant re- 
 ceiving a thousand indignities from the passers-by, — 
 and not unfrequently has the rage of an excited popu- 
 lace led them to violate the sanctuary of the toml), 
 and practise inhuman barbarities on the uncoftiucd 
 remains. Nay, such was the obloquy that attached to 
 the name of Jesus, that no heathen would be prevailed 
 upon, by entreaties or bribes, to allow the smallest 
 portion of his land to be polluted by Christian dust ; 
 and the adherents of the unpopular sect would have 
 been subjected to the grievous calamity of leaving the 
 corpses of their most beloved and honoured friends 
 without the rites of sepulture, had they not been ac- 
 commodated with some private or unoccupied ground, 
 the property of charitable persons well-affected to their 
 cause.* 
 
 But by far the great number of the primitive Chris- 
 tians were buried in subterranean sepulchres. As, 
 during the first three hundred years the sword of per- 
 secution was constantly impending over their heads, 
 
 ■ Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 123. 
 
180 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 and dear-bought experience taught them, that their 
 only safety lay either in withdrawing to uninhabited 
 deserts, or sheltering themselves in inaccessible hiding 
 holes, multitudes, who preferred the latter alternative, 
 died, and were interred in their places of retreat. 
 These served at once as their home and their burying- 
 place ; and, as it was natural that they should wish to 
 have the bodies of their departed brethren conveyed 
 to the same peaceful and inviolable sanctuaries, it be- 
 came, first from necessity, and afterwards from choice, 
 the approved and invariable practice of the Christians 
 to deposit their dead in deep and obscure caverns. 
 These, owing to the vast multitudes w^ho fell simulta- 
 neously in times of persecution, and to whom, except 
 in some few cases, the rites of burial were not refused, 
 evidently required to be of no ordinary magnitude ; 
 and accordingly — at what time is uncertain, but at an 
 early period — the charity of some wealthy friends of 
 their body put them in possession of cemeteries, which 
 remained ever after the common property of the be- 
 lievers. Among the monuments of Christian anti- 
 quity, none are more singular than these abodes of 
 the dead ; and one feels at a loss whether most to 
 admire their prodigious extent, the laborious industry 
 that provided them, or the interesting recollections 
 wdth which they are associated. Like the Moorish 
 caves in Spain, they were generally excavated at the 
 base of a lonely hill, and the entrance so carefully con- 
 cealed that no aperture appeared, and no traces w^ere 
 discernible — except by an experienced eye — of the 
 ground having been penetrated, and of the vast dun- 
 geons that had been hollowed underneath. The de- 
 scent was made by a ladder, the foot of which stood in 
 a broad and spacious pathway, which extended like a 
 street along the whole length of the place. This prin- 
 cipal entrance opened, at intervals, into smaller pas- 
 sages, which again led into a variety of chambers ; and 
 on either side of them were several rows of niches, 
 
CEMETERIES. 181 
 
 pierced in the wall, serving as catacombs, and filled 
 Avith coffins. The chambers were painted, for the 
 most part, like the churches, with passages of history 
 from the Old and New Testaments. In the centre of 
 the large street was an open square, large and com- 
 modious as a market-place, in which those who took 
 refuge there, in those troublous times, were wont to 
 congregate for worship ; and the comfort of which, as 
 a place of abode, was greatly promoted by the liberal 
 use which the Christians made of spices and perfumes 
 on their dead. In the more distant of these cemete- 
 ries, whose remoteness rendered them less liable to be 
 disturbed, there were small apertures left in the sur- 
 face of the ground, through which a dim twilight was 
 admitted ; but the others, where these were closed, 
 were absolutely dark, and, except by the aid of lights, 
 impassable ; so that, on any sudden surprise, the 
 refugees had only to extinguish their lamps to insure 
 their safety from the invasion of their enemies. The 
 depth of these vaults was sometimes so great, that two 
 or three storeys were ranged one above another ; and 
 the whole aspect of the place conveyed the impression 
 of a city under ground. 
 
 To these spacious cemeteries the primitive Chris- 
 tians had often for years to betake themselves for shel- 
 ter ; and security as well as custom reconciled them 
 to a mode of life whose gloom and loneliness were lui- 
 relieved by scarcely any of the ordinary attractions 
 that sweeten the life of man. Indeed, they were so 
 led, by the habitual disposition of their minds, to in- 
 dulge in meditations among the tombs, that the tran- 
 sition from the ordinary course of the world to the 
 unbroken solitude of the catacombs, was less felt by 
 them than perhaps it would have been by any other 
 class ; and the fondness they contracted for these places 
 of abode, as well as the moral influence they produced 
 on the minds of the Christians, was such, that many 
 severe edicts were issued by the emperors, to prohibit 
 
182 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 their frequenting them. They proved, in earlier and 
 purer times, " when the blood of Christ was warm in 
 the hearts of men," the chief nurseries of Christianity ; 
 for there many received their first impressions of re- 
 ligion. Unbelieving spectators, who witnessed the 
 honour and reverence that was paid to the departed 
 worthies, who had resisted unto blood, and were at 
 length rewarded with a crown of glory, were led to 
 inquire into the nature of that ftiith for which they 
 had been the invincible champions ; and, w^hile they 
 observed the sober, orderly, and devout character of 
 the solemnity, so beautifully contrasted with the tumult 
 and bacchanalian revelry of the heathen festivals, — the 
 simple rites, the enlivening melody, the temperate love- 
 feast, the pure and benevolent feelings that pervaded 
 the assemblage, — w^re frequently brought from cold 
 admiration to love, — from love to the obedience of faith. 
 Others, again, who were already in the ranks of the 
 faithful, were animated and encouraged anew to follow 
 the glorious example of the heroic martyrs who were 
 commemorated before their eyes ; and while they came 
 with glowing hearts, but with sober judgments, — not 
 as their degenerate posterity, — to reverence more than 
 human sanctity, or oifer the smallest tribute of super- 
 stitious honour to the remains of the dead, but to 
 express their adoption of the principles for which these 
 had bled, admiration of the Christian virtues they had 
 exhibited, and a resolution^ through grace, to tread in 
 the footsteps of men w ho 
 
 " Taught them how to live, and — oh ! too high, 
 The price of knowledge — taught them how to, die," 
 
 the mighty multitude felt as of one mind and one heart. 
 The story of the martyrs, — their meek deportment, — 
 their cruel sufferings, — the serene features that smiled 
 forgiveness to their persecutors, or were lighted up 
 with the beams of faith and joy, — each, as they were, 
 with circumstantial minuteness, detailed in the faith- 
 
CEMETERIES. 183 
 
 ful register,* touched the cords of sympathy in every 
 ])OSom. The dyinpj testimonies of the holy men, and 
 the impassioned eulogies hesto^ved hy their honoured 
 pastors on the character and deeds of their sainted 
 predecessors, came to the hearers like thoughts that 
 breathe, and words that burn. Impressions were made, 
 and purposes formed, which longsurvived the scene that 
 gave them birth ; and the acts of the martyrs, like the 
 far-famed war songs of Tyrta^us, which turned cowards 
 into heroes on the battle-field, infused the energy of 
 Christian fortitude into many timid and Avavering 
 Christians, who returned from the tombs, resolved to 
 contend for the faith once delivered to the saints. 
 
 But it was not only on such anniversary occasions 
 that the primitive Christians frequented the sepulchres 
 of the martyrs. Unhappily, they were often driven 
 to them by the sword of persecution ; and at other 
 times, when, though their lives were spared, they were 
 denied the free exercise of their religion, they had 
 no alternative between abandoning their worship and 
 violating the laws, but by sheltering themselves in the 
 obscurity of the cemeteries. While the vigilance of 
 their pursuers was suspended by slumber, or relaxed 
 in the downy lap of luxury, the followers of Jesus be- 
 took themselves to their subterranean asylum, to en- 
 joy the valued privilege of worship. In these retreats 
 multitudes lived for weeks and months without see- 
 ing sun, moon, or stars. The aged and the poor were 
 maintained by the munificent liberality of those whose 
 affection to their cause had provided the sanctuary, or 
 by the contributions of the young and vigorous, who 
 poured the fruits of their industry into the common 
 fund, as they returned, under the friendly protection 
 of night, to the company of the proscribed believers. 
 In these profound and spacious caverns, whose gloom 
 and solitude were but ill relieved by the glimmer of a 
 
 * Notaries were early employed, as we learn from Cyprian, to extract 
 from the public records authentic copies of the trial, and sentence, and 
 behaviour of the martyrs. 
 
184 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 hundred tapers, and whose walls were lined with im- 
 mense rows of catacombs, in which reposed the august 
 remains of their fathers and brethren, who had died 
 in the faith, they spent their midnight vigils in edify- 
 ing one another with the things pertaining to the com- 
 mon salvation ; and, while the storeyed vaults echoed 
 with the notes of praise, piety was fanned into a holier 
 fervour, faith awakened the sublimest emotions, and 
 the close contact of the living with the venerable dead, 
 whose spirits were still in communion with their sur- 
 vivors on earth, gave to the hope of immortality all 
 the strength and vividness of a present reality, filling 
 the hearts of all with a " joy unspeakable and full of 
 glory," far more than compensating for their banishment 
 from the cheerful haunts of men.* Lonor after their 
 meetings had ceased to be clandestine, the cemeteries 
 continued to be the favourite haunts of the Christians ; 
 and it was the more convenient to use them for the 
 offices of devotion as well as of burial, that the followers 
 of Jesus required no consecrated temple, no gorgeous 
 altar, no outward pomp, or emblems of religion. Go 
 wherever fancy or necessity might call them, they could 
 perform their simple rites in any place where two or 
 three met together in the name of Christ ; and, as 
 habit had familiarised them with the profound solitude 
 of the catacombs, and association made them love to 
 pursue their " meditations among the tombs," they 
 preferred, even in intervals of peace, frequenting these 
 subterranean abodes, to the upper rooms, where their 
 first assemblies had been held. Hence, among the 
 various channels into which the charity of the primi- 
 tive age directed itself, it became a favourite object 
 with the Avealthier Christians to excavate cemeteries, 
 with a view not only of gratifying the prevailing taste 
 of the times, but also of providing accessible places 
 of refuge in any sudden emergencies. The greatest 
 
 * Bingham, vol. iii. p. 275; Burton, vol. ii. p. 60; Orsi. Hist. Eccles., 
 vol. iii. p. 53; Sir W. Gell's Subterranean Rome. 
 
CEMETERIES. 185 
 
 ingenuity was displayed in diversifying the entrances, 
 and removing all traces of labour or skill, that might 
 arrest the eye of suspicion ; and so eifectual was the 
 concealment, that the cemeteries were seldom discov- 
 ered hy the heathen persecutors, except when some 
 false disciple purchased an ignominious indemnity to 
 himself by betraying the secret of his brethren. Many 
 of them, however, never came to the knowledge of the 
 enemy ; and one was only discovered, about three 
 miles from Rome, so late as the end of the sixteenth 
 century, the size and various apartments of which 
 excited universal astonishment. Numbers still remain, 
 bearing the names of their respective founders, and 
 affording, by their inscriptions, and the monuments 
 of antiquity found in them, the most satisfactory 
 proofs of their having been used as hiding-places by 
 the Christians. From their habit of courting the 
 obscurity of the catacombs, the Christians obtained, 
 from their heathen contemporaries, the name of the 
 " Light-hating People ;" and to their religious fami- 
 liarity with these abodes of the dead, the reflecting 
 reader will be disposed to trace that general desire 
 for martyrdom which, in the second and third centu- 
 ries, astonished the authorities of Rome, and crowded 
 the tribunals of all the provinces.* Strange as that 
 insensibility to suffering and death may seem, its origin 
 is naturall}' to be imputed to the strong influence of 
 place, operating on the minds of men who, by daily 
 contact with the venerable remains of their ancestors, 
 had overcome the instinctive dread of dissolution, and 
 in whom vivid impressions of religion, and the hope 
 of immortal glory, together with the extraordinary 
 estimation in which the memory of the martyrs was 
 
 * The earlier martyrs adopted every precaution to avoid falling into the 
 hands of their enemies, and challenged martyrdom only when they could 
 not preserve their lives without the sacrifice of a good conscience toward 
 God. In later times, multitudes courU-d the honours of martyrdom. It 
 is to this latter class the passage in the text refers. 
 
186 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 held, had created a passionate longing for similar 
 honours.* 
 
 The preceding pages delineate the manners, not of 
 one distinguished sect among the primitive Christians, 
 hut of the whole body of believers during the first three 
 centuries. The picture is unique, — altogether unpar- 
 alleled in the moral history of mankind ; and certainly 
 not the least remarkable of its features is, that wonder- 
 ful harmony in sentiment and feeling, in habits and 
 pursuits, which characterised the followers of Jesus, in 
 whatever quarter of the world they were found. The 
 contemporary millions who, throughout the vast extent 
 of the Roman empire, were united under the same 
 government and laws, stood apart from each other by 
 the greatest diversity of local customs and national 
 peculiarities : the inhabitants of Italy were unlike the 
 effeminate Persians; and the polished Athenians wide 
 as the poles asunder from the rude barbarians of 
 Germany and Gaul. But among the Christians, of 
 whatever name, or countr}^ or colour, — whether they 
 resided on the banks of the Tiber or the Jordan, in 
 the luxurious cities of Greece and Syria, or aloncr the 
 rcDiote shores of Africa, — the same characteristic tone 
 of manners prevailed. That similarity of customs, 
 which neither the sword nor the institutions of Rome 
 could introduce among people so variously circum- 
 stanced and widely scattered, was accomplished by the 
 transforming influence of the Gospel. Jews and hea- 
 thens, votaries of the most grovelling superstitions, and 
 disciples of the most renowned schools of philosophy, — 
 men who had been trained up in customs and modes of 
 faith the most opposite to each other, no sooner em- 
 braced Christianity, than they exhibited, in common, 
 
 * See the works of Bosiiis, Boldetti, Sir William Gell on Subterranean 
 Rome. The author has principally followed Aringhius, of whose learned 
 work most modern works on the subject are little more than a copy. 
 
CONCLUSION. 187 
 
 traits of character, and habits of living, by which all 
 men knew at once that they had been with Jesus ; and 
 the Christian traveller, who was familiar with the 
 domestic, social, and religious manners in the parent 
 church of Jerusalem, found, to his delight and com- 
 fort, at the firesides, in the socict}% and in the sacred 
 assemblies of the brethren in Antioch, Ephesus, Rome, 
 and Cartharje, the same customs he witnessed at home, 
 practised by a foreign people, and spoken of in an 
 unknown tongue. 
 
 Some of these manners, the reader will have ob- 
 served, are the native eifect of Christian principle, 
 and are characteristic of the followers of Jesus in 
 every age and country of the world. Of this descrip- 
 tion are their indifference to the world — their humble 
 and mortified spirit — their meek and patient tolera- 
 tion of injuries — their noble charity to the poor, the 
 afflicted, and the dying — virtues which, together with 
 the amiable acts they constantly gave rise to, in the 
 family, in business, and in the general intercourse 
 of life, stood in marked contrast to the conduct of the 
 heathen, who applauded and practised the opposite 
 qualities. In the same class are to be ranked, their 
 meetings in the name of Christ on a stated day — 
 their observance of the rites of baptism and the Lord's 
 Supper — their reading of the Scriptures — prayer — 
 their devout attention to the bodies of the dead, and 
 similar observances. Both of these, though, from the 
 long prevalence of Christianity in the world, and the 
 spirit of refinement it has infused into the general 
 habits and institutions of life, they are now well 
 known and familiar occurrences, came on the world 
 in the first ages with the freshness of novelty, and 
 were remarked as distinguishing traits of the followers 
 of Jesus. Other parts of the manners of the primitive 
 Christians were the slow and gradual product of cir- 
 cumstances. One man, for instance, of fervent piety, 
 desirous of increasing his devotional habits, and enfi- 
 
188 MANNERS IN REGARD TO THE DEAD. 
 
 veniiig his Christian affections, invented a practice 
 which he found in his own experience to be eminently 
 conducive to that purpose. Some of his friends, who 
 had a profound regard for the character of the holy 
 man, followed his example by adopting the custom, 
 till, by degrees, the circle of imitators widening, it 
 acquired the stability of a general practice, and was 
 handed down to the succeeding age as a tradition- 
 ary observance of the church. In this way arose the 
 custom of washing the hands before prayer, or read- 
 ing the Scriptures, — of reading and singing psalms at 
 meals, — of making the sign of the cross, — of deliver- 
 ing burial orations, — taking the sacrament in private 
 houses, — holding anniversary meetings at the tombs 
 of the martyrs, — and such like. Some, again, evi- 
 dently took their origin from the troubled and disas- 
 trous circumstances of the church in the first ages ; 
 as, for instance, the long course of preparatory instruc- 
 tion prescribed for the catechumens ; and the tedious 
 and severe discipline through which the penitents 
 were made to pass, — both of which measures were 
 resorted to as prudential means, not only of sustain- 
 inor a hio;h standard of Christian excellence in the 
 Church, but of excluding all of a w^orldly or doubtful 
 spirit, who, when tribulation or persecution arose, 
 might easily fall away, and bring dishonour on the 
 Christian name. Others were of heathen origin, and 
 owed their introduction into the practice of Chris- 
 tians, either to the lingering taste of the pagan con- 
 verts, who retained a fondness for some of the more 
 innocent customs to which they had been bred, — or 
 to the indiscreet zeal of some pious men, who, wishing 
 to gain over a number of the heathen. Christianized 
 some of their more familiar and harmless ceremonies. 
 Thus, from a variety of causes, customs and obser- 
 vances gradually crept into the primitive Church, 
 which, in process of time, acquired a traditional autho- 
 rity with the primitive Christians; and although many 
 
CONCLUSION. 189 
 
 of these originated, and were long known only in 
 particular places, yet, from the admirable unity which 
 pervaded the Church in apostolic times, Christians 
 were led to respect the manners of their brethren, 
 although somewhat diiferent from their own, and were 
 ever ready to imitate and adopt any observance that 
 prevailed in foreign churches, which being no way 
 contrary to the spirit of Christianity, tended to foster 
 their habits of piety and Christian virtue. In short, 
 all the customs and practices, which in those days 
 were generally sanctioned by the Church, originated 
 in a spirit of fervent piety, which animated and con- 
 trolled the whole life and energies of the believers, 
 and without taking which into account as an essential 
 element of the manners of the primitive Christians, no 
 reader is qualified to judge of their interesting story, 
 and their peculiar condition. ]\Iany of their obser- 
 vances are now practised as unmeaning ceremonies, 
 and known only as connected with the service of 
 Popish superstition ; but at their first origin they were 
 resorted to as the auxiliaries of pure and fervent piety ; 
 and it was only as a means of promoting it in their 
 hearts and lives, they were incorporated with the 
 manners of the primitive Christians. 
 
 N 
 
TRIALS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 PRIMITIVE CHRISTIANS. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS— PERSECUTIONS— BY THE JEWS— THE GREEKS — 
 THB ROMAN EMPERORS — NERO — DOMITIAN — TRAJAN — HADRIAN— MARCUS 
 AURELIUS— SEPTIMIUS SEVERUS AND CARACALLA. 
 
 It was a favourite idea of ancient philosophy, that if 
 Virtue were to descend from heaven in the garb of 
 Humanity, she would present a spectacle so beautiful 
 and attractive, as would captivate all hearts, and lead 
 mankind every where to pay her the spontaneous tri- 
 bute of their love and reverence. Speculations, as to 
 the object of religious worship, and the foundations of 
 moral duty, were, it was alleged, too exalted and re- 
 fined for the gross understandings of the multitude ; 
 and even of the wiser few, who, by their sagacity and 
 knowledge, could rise superior to the prejudices or 
 superstition of their age, their opinions had too remote 
 and feeble a hold to exert any governing influence on 
 their character and life. But were virtue to be em- 
 bodied in a human form, and to reveal her native love- 
 liness in a living exemplar, such an appeal to the 
 senses in her behalf — such a visible representation of 
 her beauty and excellence would, it was thought, con- 
 strain all men to imitate what they loved, and to follow 
 what they admired. This hoped-for descent was actu- 
 ally made in the person of Him who, in the fulness of 
 time, veiled the splendours of Deity to tabernacle for a 
 
194 TRIALS. 
 
 while in the world, and who, both in the purity of his 
 doctrme and the excellence of his example, exhibited 
 virtue in a state of perfection — far surpassing all that 
 had ever entered the wishes, or struck the imaginations 
 of men. But, alas ! the result was very different from 
 what had been fondly anticipated. Instead of the 
 welcome reception and the grateful homage, which 
 speculative dreamers had supposed he would meet 
 with from an admiring world, he was made the victim 
 of calumny, persecution, and contempt. Throughout 
 the whole course of his life, he was called to endure 
 the contradiction of sinners against himself, and never 
 was the malice of his enemies satisfied, nor their wea- 
 pons of war laid aside, till they had raised the shout 
 of infernal triumph over his premature grave. The 
 religion he bequeathed to the world, and the people, 
 who, embracing it, acquired a character congenial to 
 the mind that was in him. inherited the thorny fate of 
 their Master. The one was from its infancy surrounded 
 by innumerable perils— it was despised by the great — 
 derided by the wise — and traduced as a vile and pes- 
 tilent superstition by all. The others, in consequence 
 of their honest and inflexible attachment to it, as a 
 revelation of the will of God, were branded -with every 
 odious epithet — were made |the victims of Jewish 
 bigotry — the butt of Grecian satire ; and among the 
 Romans, they alternately became so much the objects 
 of popular fury and imperial vengeance, that to them 
 alone, of all classes of her subjects, the empire seemed 
 to have denied that justice and protection, which she 
 boasted was the common and indiscriminate care of 
 her government. For the first three hundred years, 
 the progress of Christianity is traced chiefly by the 
 blood of her followers, and the fires that were kindled 
 to destroy them. The works of the early apologists 
 abound with harrowing details of the corporal sufi^er- 
 ings — the public and private indignities — the trials of 
 every kind and degree to which her disciples in pri- 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS, 195 
 
 mitive times were subjected ; and we find, by tbe in- 
 teresting documents they have transmitted to us, under 
 the name of appeals and remonstrances to the Roman 
 tribunals, that, while every form of worship, and the 
 greatest latitude of religious opinion was allowed to 
 all other sects, toleration was a blessing unknown to 
 the Christians — torture and death were the penalty of 
 the mere confession of her faith. " Other men," ex- 
 claimed Justin Martyr, " acknowledge what gods they 
 will, and you hinder them not ; while they unite in 
 adoring the most senseless and disgusting objects, there 
 is sometimes the widest diversity of opinion among the 
 worshippers themselves ; and yet, even to these sects, 
 bigoted to their several duties, and hostile to each other 
 on their account, you, Romans, show an equal clemency, 
 and allow their discordant practices. To Christians 
 alone you object, that they worship not the same god 
 with yourselves ; and you devote us to death, because 
 we do not adore dead men, and propitiate them by 
 sacrifices, placed upon their altars." * This opposition 
 to the purest and most benevolent religion the world 
 ever saw, is doubtless to be traced, in the first instance, 
 to the native comiptions of the human heart, developed 
 at that time, in the rankest luxuriance, and the matur- 
 est strength, by the obscene rites that were celebrated 
 as worship, and the gross pleasures that constituted the 
 public pastimes of the people. But much of the hos- 
 tility which Christianity and her followers encountered, 
 proceeded also from ignorance of its nature and design 
 — ignorance originating in indifi*erence confirmed by 
 contempt, and industriously increased by the inte- 
 rested and alarmed abettors of ancient superstition. 
 On those who were capable of inquiring into the reli- 
 gion of Jesus, and the character of his followers, the 
 strongest prejudices operated to prevent them from ex- 
 amining the subject wdth close and patient attention. 
 Multitudes were too much the votaries of fashion, 
 
 * Second Apology, quoted, Ireland, p. 7. 
 
196 TRIALS. 
 
 and too passionately fond of the public games and 
 spectacles, which were every where practised in that 
 luxurious age, to trouble themselves about the pecu- 
 liarities of a people so unsocial, gloomy, and mortified 
 as the Christians appeared to be. Others, elated 
 with the dignity and pride of philosophy, looked with 
 a distant and contemptuous eye on a religion which, 
 spurning all alliance with the schools, and patronized 
 and propagated only by fishermen and mechanics, 
 asserted a presumptuous claim to be exclusively con- 
 sidered the truth. In the eyes of politicians — who 
 had no other views of religion than as a part of the 
 public institutions of the State — the Christians, who 
 forsook the temples, and refused to participate in the 
 rites of the established worship, stood in the criminal 
 attitude of a band of conspirators, whose existence 
 was prejudicial alike to the public safety and revenue. 
 The contemptuous indifference of the one, and the 
 jealous fears of the other, were industriously strength- 
 ened by the ministers of the reigning superstition, 
 whose malicious fictions were greedily swallowed by 
 the credulous populace ; and unfortunately, many of 
 the magistrates also, too easily yielding to popular 
 prejudices and priestly influence, authorised the most 
 cruel proceedings against the Christians, for no other 
 reason than that their sect was every where spoken 
 against. To criminals of every order and of every 
 name, the clemency of the public authorities was fre- 
 quently extended; and the anniversary festivals in 
 honour of the emperors were always signalized by the 
 opening of the prison to them that were bound. But 
 to the Christians no day of grace arrived, — no acts of 
 indemnity were passed. To them alone the door of 
 justice Avas shut, — over their heads the sword of per- 
 secution hung for ages by a single hair ; and although 
 the criminal annals of antiquity do not contain one 
 solitary instance of a follower of Christ being accused 
 and convicted of fraud, rapine, or any moral offence 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 1 97 
 
 against the laAvs of society,* yet, in public and in 
 private, by night and by day, insults were allowed to 
 be poured, and outrages to be perpetrated with im- 
 punity, on an innocent people, who, on account of 
 their religion alone, were universally proscribed, and 
 denied the common lot and privileges of subjects of 
 the Roman empire. " If we are guilty," says Athe- 
 nagoras, in his address to the emperors Aui-elius and 
 Commodus, " we do not refuse to be punished ; nay, 
 we call for the utmost severity of punishment. But 
 if our only guilt be the name of Christians, it is your 
 duty to protect us from the injuries which we suffer." 
 Thus fearlessly did this ancient apologist and his 
 brethren challenge the strictest inquiry into the habits 
 and practices of the Christians, and remonstrate against 
 their hard fate, which, however little they deserved it, 
 they were long before prepared to expect. Before His 
 departure from the world, their Divine Master had 
 frequently apprised them, in minute detail, of the ma- 
 nifold trials which should every where await the ad- 
 herents of His cause : — " They should be delivered up 
 to the councils, and scourged in the synagogues, — they 
 should be brought before governors and kings for a 
 testimony against them and the Gentiles, — they should 
 be hated of all men for His sake, — and many who 
 should kill them would think that they did God ser- 
 vice." These prophetic warnings were mournfully 
 realized in the experience of the primitive Christians. 
 Trying, indeed, beyond description, was the state of our 
 holy faith, not only when confined to the country which 
 cradled its infancy, but after it had obtained a " local 
 habitation and a name " in every quarter of the world. 
 As if a universal conspiracy had been formed to extir- 
 pate it from the earth, the same weapons of warfare 
 
 * The only instance that has the appearance of a crime, is that of Ne- 
 mesion, whom Gibbon represents as a robber, though he was a Christian. 
 But Eusebius says, merel}', that he "was burnt with robbers ; " and Davies 
 has most satisfactorily shown, that the heathen judges often classed Chris- 
 tians with the vilest criminals. — Daii/e*' Examination of the loth and Idtk 
 chapters of Gibbon's History. 
 
198 TRIALS. 
 
 were directed, the same modes of attack were practised 
 against the early heHevers in every place. Openly 
 punished and secretly traduced, they experienced the 
 fate, though they had no resemblance to the character, 
 of the son of Hagar. While malice invented, and the 
 hand of violence inflicted on them an infinite variety of 
 sufferings, these were more than rivalled — they were 
 outdone by the strange and incredible calumnies which 
 were universally circulated and believed against them. 
 Moreover, among the trials of the primitive Christians, 
 not the least remarkable circumstance is, the elabo- 
 rate pains their enemies took, the mean artifices they 
 practised, to ensnare them into idolatry, or gain them 
 over to the slightest compliance with the rites of super- 
 stition. The fortitude that stood proof against tor- 
 ture or the stake, was perseveringly plied with secret 
 stratagems. The throwing of a handful of incense on 
 the altar, the eating of a morsel of the sacrifices, or a 
 passing nod to a statue, would have been hailed as a 
 token of liberality deserving to be rewarded with life 
 and liberty ; and the artful address with which the 
 Pagans endeavoured to steal those outward appear- 
 ances of homage, — to which the growing triumphs of 
 Christianity added every day a greater value, — was 
 worthy of being expended in a better cause. The 
 whole story of the trials and persecutions of the early 
 believers, — the calumnies heaped on them, — the snares 
 laid to entrap them, — and the various ways in which 
 they were disposed of, forms a curious and interesting 
 chapter in the history of mankind ; and, in proposing 
 to lay before the reader a detailed account of them, it 
 seems proper to begin with tracing the reception the 
 Christians met with from the Jews, — the first people 
 in the bosom of whose society they were found. 
 
 So early as the apostolic age, we find the followers 
 of Jesus thrown, by their countrymen in Judea and 
 Samaria, into the furnace of affliction. They were 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY THE JEWS. 199 
 
 doomed to bear hunger and thirst, were naked and 
 buflfeted, and had no certain dwelling-place ; and the 
 account Avhich Paul has left on record, of his own 
 chequered lot, may be applied, as literally descrip- 
 tive of that of the collective multitude of disciples, — 
 abundant labours, frequent imprisonments, various 
 and unceasing perils by sea and land, from their own 
 countrymen, and from the heathen, and " the bonds 
 and afflictions which awaited them in every city." The 
 lapse of time increased, instead of allaying, the relent- 
 less spirit of hostility to the Christians, which vehe- 
 mently raged in the universal bosom of the Jews; 
 and history does not, amid the many humiliating 
 views of humanity it exhibits, present a more odious 
 picture than that of the malignant delight which 
 the degenerate posterity of Israel manifested in in- 
 venting measures " to crush the AATetch." Shorn of 
 their honom-s and existence as a nation, — their capi- 
 tal, and its temple, the glory of the whole earth, 
 equally reduced to a heap of ruins, — their pride 
 humbled, — their hopes ridiculed, — their very name 
 a proverb of contempt in the world, they could for- 
 get the misfortunes of a conquered dynasty, and a 
 wretched exile, in their fiendish eagerness to repress 
 the rising progress of the Gospel. Not content with 
 having imbrued their hands in the blood of Jesus, and 
 expelled the contemporary believers beyond the pre- 
 cincts of their own country, they saw with jealous 
 alarm the silent celerity with which the ranks of the 
 Christians were every where replenished with new 
 recruits, and triumphing over their haughty contempt 
 for their imperial masters, they applied to them for 
 delegated powers to apprehend, impeach, and destroy 
 all who bore the name of Jesus. In this extraor- 
 dinary crusade, to defray the expenses of which con- 
 tributions were liberally made by the wealthy of their 
 class, they literally compassed sea and land, propa- 
 gating all manner of stories to the prejudice of the 
 
200 TRIALS. 
 
 Christians, blaspheming the name of Christ as an in- 
 famous impostor, and describing his followers as a set 
 of unprincipled and worthless wretches, whom the 
 interests and honour of society required to be doomed 
 to share the fate of their Master. These men, full of all 
 subtlety and mischief, spread themselves into every city, 
 village, and hamlet, leaving no means untried by which 
 they could carry on the war of extermination against 
 the Christians. They first insinuated themselves into 
 private society, — here, fabricating artful stories ; there, 
 pouring forth vehement invectives, — now^ dropping ob- 
 scure hints ; then making the most infamous charges ; 
 till, having poisoned the private ears, and roused the 
 detestation of the populace, they addressed themselves 
 to the governors and public officers, — the more intole- 
 rant and violent of whom they inflamed by false alle- 
 gations of conspiracy and treason. Some they gained 
 by corruption, others by fear, — so that they succeeded 
 in rendering the Christians as much the objects of 
 universal odium as themselves have been, by a dread- 
 ful retribution of Providence, among modern nations.* 
 The most lamentable consequences resulted from this 
 infernal mission. Disow^ned so anxiously by the 
 people with whom they were at first confounded by 
 the heathen, and represented in the most odious light 
 by those to whom it was naturally supposed they 
 were best known, the Christians soon perceived the 
 fatal effects of Jewish enmity ; and perhaps most of 
 the calamities which, in the Jirst age, befell the 
 adherents of the Gospel, owed their origin to the 
 memory and secret influence of those slanderous re- 
 ports which those mercenary emissaries of the house 
 of Israel drew from their travelling stock of lies.t 
 
 * Ireland. — Paganism and Christianity Compared, p. 17 ; Justin Martyr's 
 Sec. Apol., p. 171 ; Thirlby's Notes. 
 
 t There were also many local persecutions by the Jews, especially in 
 Jerusalem, during the troubles occasioned by the impious pretender Bar- 
 chochab ; who, finding it impossible to rouse the Christians to aid his 
 cause, commenced the most dreadful outrages on all who bore that name 
 in the city. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY THE GREEKS. 201 
 
 The Greeks did not fall a whit behind the Jews 
 in the intensity of their hatred to the Christian name, 
 although they looked upon the Gospel with other 
 feelings, and from a different point of observation. 
 The doctrine of the Christians, while it roused the 
 enmity of the latter, by wounding their pride in the 
 most tender point, — the perpetuity of their faith and 
 worship was no less offensive to the former, by inter- 
 fering with their claims to a monopoly of wisdom ; 
 and never did the people who, with affected disdain, 
 called all other nations by the name of barbarians, 
 breathe a spirit of more implacable revenge than when 
 they saw the honour and interests of their philosophy 
 at stake by the silent inroads of the religion of Jesus. 
 Their hostility, however, vented itself not so much in 
 the vulgar form of bodily pains and penalties — their 
 Roman masters having deprived them of the power 
 of the sword, — although, notwithstanding, there were 
 occasionally outbursts of popular feeling, which proved 
 disastrous to the Christians, — as in the refined cruel- 
 ties of wit and ridicule ; and every one who knows 
 the exquisite pungency of their satire, and the pecu- 
 liar opportunities which, at their games and pul)lic 
 market-places, they possessed of circulating it over 
 the length and breadth of the land, will perceive that 
 those weapons of war would cause incessant annoy- 
 ance to the Christians, and make their mingling in 
 Grecian society the source of indescribable trials. It 
 was the pride of wisdom, more perhaps than the de- 
 generacy of public manners, which roused the Greeks 
 to arms against the Gospel. Their national vanity 
 took deep and inexpiable offence at the claim which 
 the Christians advanced to the derivation of all know- 
 ledge on morality and religion immediately from God, 
 through the medium of the chosen people ; and as they 
 could not deny that most of their boasted philosophy 
 had been imported from the East, and that its founders 
 had merely tried to conceal what thev borrowed from 
 
202 TRIALS. 
 
 the Scriptures, without often understanding it, under 
 the veil of fable and allegory, they saw no means of 
 maintaining the proud pretensions of their coimtry 
 to be the original source of human knowledge, but 
 by overwhelming with opprobrium and contempt the 
 abettors of the new faith, which threatened, like 
 Aaron's rod, to swallow up all others. Prompted by 
 this vindictive spirit, they read the Scriptures only in 
 order to carp and cavil at them ; and having fasten- 
 ed on what appeared the weakest or most obnoxious 
 passages, they dressed them up in the most absurd 
 fashion that their fancy suggested. They ridiculed 
 the artless simplicity of their style, and proclaimed 
 their subjects to be " foolishness," because they were 
 not adorned with the tinsel and artificial eloquence 
 that suited the taste of a degenerate age. The Chris- 
 tians who believed and expounded these, they despised 
 as a class of low and illiterate mechanics, who had no 
 acquirements beyond the implements of their trade, or 
 the merchandise of their shop, and to whom the very 
 names of Plato and Aristotle, the great masters of 
 Grecian philosophy, was as strange and unknown as 
 were the subtleties and speculations of their schools. 
 But in nothing did their malicious industry employ 
 itself so much, as in exposing the folly and absurdity 
 of the Christians in worshipping as a god a man who 
 had been crucified, and who, instead of having sig- 
 nalized himself, as their demigods had done, by any 
 deeds of extraordinary heroism, or any pubHc institu- 
 tions for the benefit of the world, had associated His 
 name only with some pretended miracles, — nothing 
 better, as they described them, than the contemptible 
 feats of jugglery with which the vulgar were daily 
 deluded at the temples. These contemptuous feelings, 
 which were proudly nourished amid the walks of the 
 Academy and in the purlieus of the Lyceum, were 
 carefully spread among the people. Prizes were 
 offered, and public honours proposed to orators and 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY THE GREEKS. 203 
 
 poets, who should, with the most cutting sarcasm, and 
 the most powerful eloquence, exhibit as an absurd 
 and incredible fiction the doctrine of the Trinity. Sa- 
 tirical plays were acted on the stage, in w^hich per- 
 sonages, bearing the garb and manner of Christians, 
 were, amidst the universal laughter of the spectators, 
 exhibited in the attitude of praying on their bended 
 knees to an image affixed to a wooden cross. Pic- 
 tures were pasted on the walls of the temples and 
 streets, of the same obnoxious people in the act of 
 overthrowing images, and blaspheming the gods, or 
 holding up first one cheek and then the other, to be 
 smitten by some ruffian assailants ; or clad in mean 
 and tattered garments, with their hands extended, and 
 their eyes uplifted to heaven. Besides, lampoons and 
 pasquinades were frequently scattered in profusion on 
 the streets, to be picked up by any casual passenger ; 
 so that in every company, in the gay and luxurious 
 saloons of Athens, Ephesus, and Corinth, the most 
 favourite source of amusement was the newest carica- 
 ture, or the last bo7i mot at the expense of the Chris- 
 tians. Even the old women at the stalls, in imitation 
 of their superiors, discharged their scurrilous jests 
 upon them ; and the boys at school had their memo- 
 ries filled with satirical songs, and every variety of 
 verbal, written, or pictorial wit, which tended to per- 
 petuate the odium of the devoted believers. Such 
 was the deep and envenomed malignity of the polite 
 Greeks — so sadly did the people w ho boasted of their 
 supreme dominion in moral and mental refinement, 
 prostitute their accomplishments in knowledge and 
 taste to the degrading office of persecuting holy and 
 excellent men for conscience' sake.* 
 
 But the most formidable of all the enemies whose 
 opposition the Christians encountered, were the em- 
 perors of Rome, and their representatives in Italy 
 
 * Ireland — Paganism and Christianity Compared, p. 12 ; Cave's Lives 
 of the Fathers— Paul and Gregory. 
 
204 TRIALS. 
 
 and tlie provinces. As in all countries where des- 
 potism is the established form of government, the 
 mildness or severity of the administration depends on 
 the personal qualities of the ruler, so, when the im- 
 perial throne of the Cesars was filled by a prince of 
 enlightened views and virtuous dispositions, the benign 
 influences of his reign were felt by countless millions 
 of his subjects at the farthest extremities of the em- 
 pire. To the unfortunate Christians alone, it was 
 almost always a matter of equal indifference what was 
 the character of the reigning sovereign. If he were, 
 by nature, the slave of caprice, or prone to cruelty, 
 or if he were led, by a bigoted attachment to super- 
 stition or prudential motives, to regard with jealousy 
 any innovations in religion, that devoted race were 
 sure to feel the weight of his merciless temper, or 
 intolerant policy. Some of the emperors being such 
 wicked tyrants, so wayward and imperious in their 
 dispositions, that they scrupled not, in the gratifica- 
 tion of their lawless passions, to overleap all the bar- 
 riers of nature and justice ; so sunk in brutal vices, 
 that they could not bear the least vestige of virtue or 
 excellence in their subjects ; and so inured to crimes 
 of the most gigantic magnitude, that rivers of blood 
 did not satiate their swords, — it is no wonder that 
 the meek and lowly followers of Jesus came in for their 
 full share of the inhuman atrocities that disgraced the 
 reign of these imperial monsters. But what is no less 
 strange than true, the same barbarities were perpe- 
 trated by some of the mildest and most virtuous 
 princes that wore the purple in later times ; and from 
 whatever cause these outrages proceeded, — ^whether 
 they were the outbreaks of prejudice or superstition 
 in the royal breast, or were dictated by the ancient 
 Roman policy of tolerating no departure from the 
 established forms of religion, — the Governments of 
 Trajan, Titus, Antoninus, Severus, and Marcus Au- 
 relius, were as infamous for the cruel ill-usage of the 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY NERO. 205 
 
 Christians, as were those of their inhuman predeces- 
 sors, Nero and Doniitian. 
 
 A brief survey of the most remarkable circumstances 
 that signalized the procedure of those masters of the 
 ancient world towards the infant cause of Christianity, 
 is necessary in a chapter which professes to treat of 
 the trials of the primitive Christians. 
 
 The infamy of being the first to draw the sword 
 against the Christians belongs to Nero, a prince who 
 combined in his own person all the most disgusting 
 qualities and enormous crimes that ever blackened 
 and degraded humanity. But of all the odious fea- 
 tures of his character, cruelty seems to have been the 
 crowning vice, as there was scarcely a member of his 
 court, related to him by nature, dignified by station, 
 or recommended by public virtue, in whose life's blood 
 he did not plunge the assassin's shaft. His father, 
 mother, brother, two wives, besides many others of 
 royal and patrician rank, all fell successively by his 
 unnatural poignard, and among all classes of his sub- 
 jects his severities were so oppressive, that Rome 
 groaned under the scorjiion lash of the imperial tyrant. 
 From such a scourge of the human race the Christians 
 could not escape ; and while, by malicious calumnies, 
 of which he had privately encouraged the circulation, 
 their condition had been several times embittered, and 
 thousands rendered odious in the eyes of their fellow- 
 citizens, there is one instance of their trials under his 
 reign, which will ever be memorable in the history 
 of persecution, and of which the origin and progress 
 may be briefly told. Among innumerable other freaks 
 of his folly and madness, he became discontented with 
 the nan-ow streets and the poor antiquated style] of 
 building that distinguished the old city of Rome, and 
 whether it was that he wished to enjoy the singular 
 satisfaction of beholdinof an immense assemblao-e of 
 houses m one common conflagration, or to bear the 
 honour of becoming a second Romulus — the founder 
 
2oa 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 of a more beautiful and magnificent capital of the 
 world, — he secretly ordered it to be set on fire, in 
 all parts of the city at once. This remarkable event 
 took place on the 19th July, sixty-four years after 
 Christ ; and so well laid were the plans of the royal 
 incendiary, and to so great a height had the flames 
 attained, before the unsuspecting citizens were aware 
 of the full extent of the catastrophe, that no measures 
 of precaution or of force, no lavish use of the v»'aters 
 of tlie Tyber, could stem the progress of the devour- 
 ing element. For six or seven days the fire raged 
 "vnth unabated fury, destroying, in its terrific career, 
 palaces, temples, all the most splendid and venerable 
 monuments of antiquity ; and at length, when a calm 
 view could be taken^ of the calamity, it was found, 
 that of the proud city, which boasted of so many 
 superb edifices of religion, and temples of victory, — 
 which had witnessed so many proud triumphs, and 
 on whose piazzas and streets foreigners, from every 
 region of the Avorld, had been proud to walk, nothing- 
 remained but a few blackened and tottering walls. 
 During the progress of this fearful calamity, while 
 thousands of Roman families were smothered in the 
 falling ruins, or driven naked and houseless wander- 
 ers to the fields, Nero had stationed himself in the 
 imperial gardens, where he feasted his inhuman eyes, 
 from the lofty tower of Maecenas, with the spectacle of 
 hon-or, and, in the fantastic garb of a player, sang in 
 Homeric strains the destruction of Troy. Universal 
 indignation soon lighted upon him as the guilty cause 
 of the catastrophe. But by address or intimidation, 
 he contrived to divert the attention of the public 
 from himself; and with a meanness and cowardice, 
 equalled only by his pre-eminent atrocity, he sought 
 inglorious safety to himself, by making the vengeance 
 of the citizens fall like a thunder-bolt on the Chris- 
 tians, who, besides their share of suffering the com- 
 mon calamity, had braved the greatest personal dangers, 
 
BURNING OF ROME. 207 
 
 in their benevolent attempts to rescue the unfortunate 
 sufferers. The mercenary zeal of his creatures having 
 discovered some of the believers, on whom every means 
 of intimidation was practised, the rest of the brethren 
 w^re, through their weakness or treachery, appre- 
 hended, and, on the false pretext of having occasioned 
 the destruction of the city, proceeded against with 
 unexampled severity. Tortures, and modes of death 
 unknown in the criminal code of Rome, were invented 
 for the incendiaries. The majority were bound in 
 combustible garments, which, being set fire to, illu- 
 mined the darkness of the night, and made the punish- 
 ment resemble the crime. The spacious gardens of 
 the palace were, with diabolical taste, selected as an 
 appropriate scene of the executions, — Nero himself 
 being conspicuous in the crowded ranks of the spec- 
 tators ; and, while the sad groups of victims were 
 successively led to the stake, tears of pity streamed 
 from a thousand eyes among the assembled multitudes, 
 who knew that the spectacle was exhibited, not for 
 the public benefit, but to gratify the savage heart of 
 one man. The circumstance of this wicked prince 
 ever meditating to criminate the Christians with the 
 conflagration, proves that they had previously been 
 rendered deeply odious to the people, — that the accu- 
 sation Avould be credulously entertained, and that the 
 punishment of that class would afford gratification to 
 the mob on account of the calumnious reports of the 
 wickedness to which they were secretly addicted. This 
 persecution, in which a vast number of Christians fell 
 by the most appalling death, among whom were Peter 
 and Paul, was local, being confined chiefly to Rome 
 and its immediate neighbourhood, and lasting about 
 the space of four years. Nevertheless, proofs are not 
 wanting that the atrocities of the emperor were imi- 
 tated by his underlings in other places. From an 
 inscription discovered in Spain, it appears that not a 
 few Christians in that remote province met the hard 
 
208 TRIALS. 
 
 fate of their brethren in the metropolis ; and this ter- 
 rible blow gave them the first experimental lesson, in 
 all parts of the empire to which the tidings reached, 
 that they who live godly in Christ Jesus must expect 
 to suifer persecution. 
 
 The brief respite which the Christians enjoyed under 
 the immediate successors of Nero, was broken on the 
 accession of Domitian, in the year of our Lord 81. 
 This prince was a man of indolent, jealous, and arro- 
 gant temper ; and, by indulging in the savage pastime 
 of stabbing flies on the wall of his chamber — myriads 
 of which he destroyed every day — the young Cesar 
 rose to be the imperial monster, whose appetite could 
 not be glutted with rivers of human blood. As if he 
 had become intoxicated by his elevation to the purple, 
 his subsequent career became an unbroken series of 
 folly and madness, till his capricious humour, not con- 
 tented to run in the ordinary channels of royal ambi- 
 tion, aspired to the honours of divinity, — caused statues 
 to be erected to his honour, worship to be offered at 
 his shrine, and addresses made to him by the presump- 
 tuous title of god. While his obsequious subjects 
 hastened from all quarters to comply with the tyran- 
 nical edict, the Christians alone recoiled in horror from 
 the blasphemy; and forthwith confiscation, banish- 
 ment, and death, became the order of the day. The 
 Evangfelist John was sent an exile to Patmos. Flavius 
 Clemens, cousin-german of the emperor, and invested 
 at that time with the consulship, atoned by his death 
 for the crime of being a Christian ; while that noble- 
 man's wife, Domitilla, herself also connected with the 
 royal family, was removed, on the same account, to 
 a distant island. By a horrid system of espionage, 
 established in this reign, the trade of an informer be- 
 came a lucrative one ; and, as always happens in such 
 a disorganised state of things, many innocent persons, 
 whose property was coveted, or whose removal, on 
 other grounds, was thought desirable, were dragged to 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DOMITIAN. 209 
 
 the tribunals, and accused of Christianity — that charge 
 having now become one of the most common, being 
 always substituted in the absence of all other offence?, 
 and ranked next in enormity to the crime of high 
 treason. Where the fountain of justice was so polluted, 
 it is not to be expected that its streams would be other- 
 wise than turbid and impure; and accordingly, with 
 indecent haste, often without the formality of a trial, 
 such was the deep detestation of the Christian name, 
 the inferior magistrates, both in Rome and in the pro- 
 vinces, condemned multitudes to suffer for the name of 
 Jesus. Among the indiscriminate crowd, whom their 
 religion had caused to be enrolled among the proscribed, 
 were two persons in Judea, of the ancient house of 
 David, and very nearly akin to Jesus.* Looking upon 
 that distinguished family as either covertly engaged in 
 a foul conspiracy, or as likely to become a rallying 
 point for the seditious, from the frequent and mys- 
 terious allusions made to the kingdom of Christ, 
 Domitian had determined, like his predecessor, the 
 tetrarch, to extirpate the whole race ; and accordingly, 
 no sooner had he discovered that two scions of the 
 royal lineao;e of the Jews were still alive, than he or- 
 dered them forthwith into his presence. They appeared 
 simple unlettered men ; and, by the most searching 
 inquiries, nothing could be elicited, farther than that 
 they were Jewish peasants, — that their estate was con- 
 fined within the narrow compass of thirty-nine acres, 
 which they cultivated by their own industrj^ and by 
 the produce of which they maintained themselves and 
 families in frugal independence, and faithfully paid 
 tribute to the imperial government. Their hands, the 
 hardness of which betokened familiarity with labour, 
 — and their conversation, betraying no capability of 
 forming dark or comprehensive designs, confirming 
 the truth of their artless tale, they were dismissed in 
 
 ♦ Euseb. Hist. Eccles., book iii. chaps. If*, 20 ; Justin Martyr's Second 
 Apology, p. 58. 
 
210 TRIALS. 
 
 safety. But although the result of this interview 
 with the relations of Christ, satisfied Domitian that 
 his throne was in no danger from the machinations 
 of these two men, and that they had no view of em- 
 ploying the name of their departed kinsman to erect 
 a rival dynasty, his suspicions were by no means 
 allayed of political dangers to be apprehended from 
 Christian ambition. He continued to authorise or 
 connive at the slaughter of his provincial subjects on 
 account of a religion of which the politicians of the 
 day, though they could fasten no moral offence against 
 its professors, could not divest themselves of the most 
 jealous alarm ; and this second persecution was pro- 
 secuted with unabated fury, till the unexpected murder 
 of Domitian for a while restored the sword to its 
 scabbard. 
 
 The sanguinary proceedings of Nero and Domitian 
 against the followers of Jesus, being rather the furi- 
 ous ebullitions of capricious and desperately wicked 
 tyrants, than the solemn and deliberate measures of 
 state policy, the Christians first became distinct and 
 prominent subjects of Roman legislation in the reign 
 of Trajan. This emperor, who ascended the throne 
 in the year of our Lord 99, found the cruel edicts of 
 Nero and Domitian abolished by the mild and equal 
 administration of his predecessor, Nerva. But yet,- 
 such was the loose and undefined state of the law 
 regarding them, that a blood-thirsty priesthood, or an 
 enraged and superstitious populace, could annoy them 
 with impunity, and by charging them with enmity to 
 the religion of the empire, demand their execution at 
 pleasure. It was in such circumstances that the 
 celebrated Pliny entered on the provincial government 
 of Bithynia, when Christianity boasted of a numerous 
 train of followers ; and the new governor had scarcely 
 been installed into office, when he found his tribunal 
 daily surrounded by multitudes, who were tumultu- 
 ously dragged thither on a charge of professing the 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY TRAJAN. 211 
 
 Christian faith. The crime, and the legal mode of 
 procedure in such a case, were alike strange to him. 
 But, seeing persons of every age, sex, and condition, 
 in remote hamlets, as well as in populous cities, in- 
 volved in the accusation, and hearing of the temples 
 being deserted, the priests despised, the sacrifices un- 
 purchased, and the most venerable forms of worship 
 honoured with the attendance only of an inconsiderable 
 few, he determined, like a prudent magistrate, not to 
 rely on the uncertain rumours that were afloat, but tci 
 institute minute and accurate inquiries into the prin- 
 ciples and habits of those who were called Christians. 
 In his well-known letter to his imperial master, whose 
 instructions he solicited in the dilemma, he details 
 some circumstances that afford a curious picture of 
 the state of feeling prevalent both among the leading- 
 men and the populace of Rome towards the primitive 
 behevers. " I am at a loss," says he, " whether re- 
 gard should be paid to difference of age, — whether 
 the young and the weak should be treated more ten- 
 derly than the stronger and more advanced in years, 
 — whether to allow time for recanting, — whether the 
 name, unaccompanied with any other offences, or the 
 crimes that are associated with the name, should be 
 punished. Meanwhile, this has been my mode of 
 procedure to those Christians that were brought before 
 me : — I asked them, whether they were Christians ? 
 and if they confessed, I asked them again and again, 
 holding up the terror of punishment ; after which, if 
 they were obstinate, I ordered them to immediate 
 execution. For I did not entertain a doubt that their 
 stubborn and inflexible obstinacy should meet condign 
 punishment. More cases occurring, and the super- 
 stition continuing to spread, I fortunately procured 
 a paper, containing the names of multitudes, some 
 of whom voluntarily denied they had been Christians, 
 or had ceased to be so. With a view to ascertain 
 the truth of their statement, I commanded them to 
 
212 TRIALS. 
 
 invoke the gods, and present wine and incense to 
 your statue, and, moreover, blaspheme Christ, — a dis- 
 honour which, it is alleged, no true Christians will 
 ever do. I was satisfied, and dismissed them ; and 
 others of them, having at first acknowledged them- 
 selves Christians, afterwards denied it, — all of whom 
 I proved by ordering them to render divine honours to 
 the gods. To satisfy myself still fiirther, I apprehended 
 two female slaves, who had been deaconesses in the 
 Church, and having examined them by torture, all I 
 could discover, by their evidence, respecting the con- 
 duct of the Christians, is, that on a stated day they 
 are wont to assemble, before sunrise, to sing a hymn 
 to Christ, as the God whom they worship ; and bind 
 themselves by an oath not to commit any wickedness, 
 but to abstain from theft, robbery, adultery ; to keep 
 faith, and, when requested, to restore any pledge com- 
 mitted to them." It might have been expected, that, 
 after such a discovery as Pliny had made, an amiable 
 man, as he was, would have looked with an indulgent 
 eye on a religion which prescribed such harmless 
 practices, — and that, as an enlightened politician, he 
 would have pa'ronized, or thrown the shield of his 
 protection over a people who voluntarily obliged them- 
 selves to act on such golden rules of morality ; but 
 his understanding was beclouded by the prejudices, 
 and his conduct fettered by the laws, of the ancient 
 and approved policy of Rome, — which tolerated no 
 departure from the popular faith, and was jealous of 
 all secret associations of men. And although he had 
 found Bithynia, on his arrival, in a state of the most 
 profound tranquillity, and the most loyal disposition 
 towards the emperor, — although, among the vast body 
 of people who had long made profession of Christianity 
 in that province, his attention had not been directed 
 towards a solitary instance of open disaffection, or 
 secret sedition, — although even the renegade Chris- 
 tians, whom he examined by torture, to learn the habits 
 
CHRISTIANS IN BITHYNIA. 213 
 
 of that people, did not lay any crime to the charge of 
 their former brethren, — yet, contrary to his natural 
 temper and usual policy, he displayed towards the 
 adherents of the new faith the utmost severity and 
 intolerance.* Nay, he so far departed from the equity 
 of the Roman laws, which always showed a regard to 
 those who were of tender age, as to hesitate whether 
 this clemency ought not to be dispensed with in the 
 treatment of the Christians ; some of whom he de- 
 graded, others he tortured, and all of whom, after they 
 had been thrice interrogated if they were Christians, 
 and persevered in the avowal, he put to instant death. 
 The constancy and fidelity which in others would 
 have commanded admiration, and been considered 
 a virtue, was, in them, '' detestable obstinacy," and 
 punished as a crime. The subsequent administration 
 of the propraetor was guided by the advice of the em- 
 peror, who ordered that the Christians should not be 
 sought after, as ordinary criminals, by the police ; but 
 that, if any were accused and convicted, they should 
 receive the punishment of death. In this rescript, 
 which, in the absence of written law or precedent, 
 furnished the only instruction and guide as to the 
 treatment of Christians, there is a great appearance of 
 clemency and moderation ; but, in reality, it is one of 
 the most cruel and unfavourable edicts ever issued 
 concerning that people. + By means of it, indeed, 
 the trade of informers, which had been so common in 
 former reigns, was abolished, and the wretched slaves 
 who had betrayed their Christian masters, w^ere exe- 
 cuted without mercy, as a warning to others ; but the 
 priests, who saw their influence daily on the wane, — 
 and the populace, who were reduced to beggary by 
 having no sale for the victims, shrines, and other 
 materials of idolatry, were constantly dragging, in 
 their moments of irritation, vast numbers of Christians 
 to the tribunals of the governor; and, as his own 
 
 * Epist. X. t Le Clerc, A. cxi, N. 15. 
 
214 TRIALS. 
 
 testimony shows that no menaces could shake the 
 constancy of a true Christian, his executioners had as 
 much work as ever with the adherents of the new 
 faith. Besides, the public festivals were always occa- 
 sions of annoyance and suffering to the Christians, as 
 at those times there was much pomp observed in the 
 celebration of religious ceremonies; and the zeal of 
 the populace for their national worship was likely to 
 acquire fresh stimulus amid the revelry of a sacred 
 solemnity. Scarcely a year passed without some public 
 demonstration in bono r of the emperor ; and as these 
 anniversaries were always hallowed by the rites of 
 religion, and votive libations to his health, by which 
 the people testified their loyalty, the Christians, who 
 could neither participate in the sacrifices, nor boAv to 
 his statue, always found these to be seasons of grief 
 rather than rejoicing. One memorable occasion of 
 this kind occurred during the presidency of Pliny, — 
 the quindecennalia, or fifteenth anniversary ol' Trajan's 
 accession, which was celebrated in 111, the year after 
 he entered upon office. Among all ranks, the utmost 
 enthusiasm of loyalty prevailed, — and though the 
 Christians yielded to no class of their fellow-subjects 
 in devoted attachment to their sovereign, and regularly 
 prayed for his health, and prosperity to his govern- 
 ment, their singularity in not joining in the pubHc 
 demonstrations of joy marked them out as objects of 
 suspicion to the governor, and proved fatal to their 
 peace, — the more so, that Pliny, being invested with 
 the office of augur, was called to watch over the in- 
 terests of the national faith, and besides participating 
 in the natural feelings of the priests, and the un- 
 doubted sincerity of his attachment to the gods of his 
 country, drew much of the splendour and emoluments 
 of his office from the crowds of attendants in the 
 temples and at the altars. 
 
 In other parts of the empire, it is probable that 
 Trajan acted on the advice he gave to the governor of 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY TRAJAN. 215 
 
 riithynia, not to be overcurious in detecting Christians, 
 but to punish them if brought before him and convicted ; 
 and viewing, as he did, the religion of that people in a 
 political point of view, as setting the laws at defiance, 
 and bringing contempt on the most sacred and vener- 
 able institutions of the State, there can be little doubt, 
 that in every quarter of his dominions the arm of im- 
 perial vengeance fell heavy on the followers of Jesus. 
 In Palestine, for instance, it is said, that the governor 
 having written to Trajan that he was weary with pun- 
 ishing Christians, and felt himself inadequate to the 
 task of crushing their superstition, the emperor imme- 
 diately put a stop to the farther etfusion of blood. But 
 still, although he cannot be acquitted of cruel injustice 
 and intolerance to the Christians, the fault is attributed 
 not so much to the man as to the age, which had no 
 enhghtened views of toleration, and could perceive 
 nothing: but hidden dano;ers in a religion which re- 
 quired neither temples, images, nor altars ; and al- 
 though various parts of the world were, during this 
 reign, infamous for the scenes of suffering to multitudes 
 of excellent and holy men, whose Christianity was 
 their only crime, yet it cannot be said of this emperor 
 that he authorised any regular or determined attacks 
 on the followers of Christ, like those that have ren- 
 dered odious the memories of Nero and Domitian. 
 
 On the death of Trajan, which happened while he 
 was enrafred in the foreign wars that clouded the 
 close of his reign, Hadrian, whom he had adopted, 
 succeeded to the imperial throne. He was a prince of 
 a strangelv inconsistent character, and in whose life the 
 most opposite virtues and vices were singularly blended. 
 Among his characteristic peculiarities, he was passion- 
 ately fond of magic, and an enthusiastic bigot for what 
 Gibbon calls the elegant superstition of Greece, — in 
 consequence of which he despised all other forms of 
 religion that did not resemble his favourite mythology, 
 and proved a determined enemy to Christianity, which 
 
216 TRIALS. 
 
 threatened to level it with the dust. He did not, 
 indeed, issue any new edicts to check its progress, or 
 authorise any rash acts of tyrannical oppression on its 
 disciples ; hut, as he allowed the former laws of the 
 empire regarding them to continue in force, the in- 
 terested abettors of idolatry had ample opportunities 
 of wreaking their vengeance, and stirring up an igno- 
 rant populace to demand the destruction of the hated 
 enemies of the religion of their fathers. His own 
 example gave the greatest encouragement to the per- 
 secutors of the Christians ; for, while the inferior ma- 
 gistrates and others witnessed the zeal of their master 
 in courting initiation into the most secret mysteries 
 of the Grecian worship, they could not doubt of his 
 determination to encourage the established religion, 
 and of their liberty to oppress and extirpate all who 
 were agfainst it. Durino- his various travels in the 
 provinces, where his inquisitive mind made constant 
 and anxious observations on the prevailing state and 
 habits of religion, informations were frequently lodged 
 with him against many who refused to sacrifice to the 
 gods ; and in the north of Italy and Gaul, several per- 
 sons, who had been summoned to his presence, and 
 avowed their invincible attachment to Christianity, 
 were ordered to be put to death. On his return to 
 Home, where he celebrated a public festival with ex- 
 traordinary magnificence, and signalized the occasion 
 by laying the foundations of a temple and a country 
 palace, many Christians in the metropolis suffered for 
 not joining with the rest of the citizens in the im- 
 posing sacrifices and worship which as usual accompa- 
 nied the dedication. Among these was Symphorosa, 
 a widow of rank, who, Avith her seven sons, resolutely 
 encountered martyrdom.* But it was principally 
 in Asia, where viteJ Christianity still continued in a 
 flourishing state, that the most determined and revolt- 
 ing acts of barbarity, if not authorised, yet connived 
 
 * Tillemont Mem., torn. ii. part U. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY HADRIAN. 2 1 7 
 
 at by the emperor, were committed on the unfortunate 
 adherents of the Gospel. As the trade of inforaaer 
 had become dangerous, and no single person would 
 incur the risk of accusing the believers, the inventive 
 malice of the priests had devised new methods of 
 annoying them. One of these was, by the circulation 
 of atrocious calumnies, to rouse the whole populace 
 with one voice to demand the extirpation of the Chris- 
 tians; and many mngistrates, with a view of courting 
 popularity, or from some equally dishonourable mo- 
 tives, yielded to the clamours of the multitude, by 
 exposing the Christians on the bloody sands of the 
 amphitheatre. Some earnest remonstrances, forwarded 
 by some of his confidential magistrates, seconded by 
 some powerful apologies by the most eminent Chris- 
 tians, produced a sensation in the royal mind. The 
 emperor was struck with these accounts of the inno- 
 cence of the Christians ; and induced by his charac- 
 teristic love of justice, forthwitii despatched orders to 
 governors and magistrates in all parts of the empire, 
 that no Christian should be punished except for some 
 violation of the laws. This was the second imperial 
 statute in favour of the Christians ; and it was a vast 
 improvement on the celebrated edict of Trajan, which 
 enjoining only that Cliristians should not be hunted 
 after, but still regarding their religion as a crime, could 
 be interpreted with mildness or severity, according to 
 the temper or views of the magistrate. But by the 
 ordinance of Hadrian, a legal charge of having infringed 
 on the laws of the state, required to be instituted and 
 proved against a Christian, by his accusers personally 
 confronting him in a court of justice, before he could 
 be dealt with as a criminal ; and the accusation, if 
 false, was followed by the utmost severity of punish- 
 ment. It was so far beneficial to the Christians, that 
 it secured their protection from the effects of sudden 
 and violent outrages, to which the bigoted devotees 
 of idolatry had been easily stimulated against them, 
 
218 TRIALS. 
 
 as well as from the indiscreet facility of the magistrates 
 in handing them over to the tender mercies of a mob. 
 But as by its vague and ambiguous terms, it left un- 
 defined what was meant by a violation of the laws, it 
 became a very uncertain and insufficient security to 
 the Christians. And there were not wanting numbers 
 unfriendly to their cause, who learned in a short time 
 to turn the very edict into .an engine of persecution, 
 by considering the profession of the Christian faith as 
 one of the offences which it contemplated as contraiy 
 to law. Accordingly, in this reign, a terrible perse- 
 cution of the Christians was carried on, — the extent 
 and fearful ravages of which may be judged of by the 
 single circumstance, that when Arrius, a proconsul in 
 Asia, had committed all sorts of outrages on the un- 
 happy Christians of the capital, which was the seat 
 of his government, the whole of them in a body sur- 
 rounded his tribunal, voluntarily confessing their reli- 
 gion. Astonished at their numbers, he ordered a few 
 of them to execution, and dismissing the rest, told 
 them, that if they were bent on putting an end to their 
 lives, they could find precipices and halters at home, 
 without pressing on him to become their executioner. 
 To such extremities was this persecution carried, that 
 one of Hadrian's deputies wrote to him, earnestly 
 beseeching his imperial permission to mitigate its 
 severity. But although this request was granted, yet 
 in many places the war of extermination was waged 
 with unabated violence ; and the reign of Hadrian 
 must, in every history that details the sufferings of 
 the primitive Christians, obtain a prominent place in 
 the list of their persecutions. 
 
 Passing Antoninus Pius, who continued the same 
 general policy towards the Christians as his predecessor 
 Hadrian, we come to Marcus Aurelius and Lucius 
 Yerus, who jointly succeeded to the honours of the 
 empire in 161. Although, during the earlier part 
 of their administration, some indulgence was shown 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY AURELIUS. 219 
 
 to the followers of Christ, and professors of his reli- 
 gion vATre even allowed to hold office on terms with 
 which they could conscientiously comply, yet it is 
 beyond all doubt, that this period was not altogether 
 unmarked by trouble and annoyance to them, Avhich, 
 owing to a great and alarming mortality which pre- 
 vailed about four years after the accession, increased 
 to all the severity of persecution, — the popular fury, as 
 usual on such occasions, raging against the Christians 
 as the guilty cause of the cahimity, and demanding 
 expiation by their blood. In Kome, and, of course, 
 almost under the eye of the emperor, though he issued 
 no penal edict against them, executions took place 
 with impunity, and immense numbers were put to a 
 cruel death, among whom was the celebrated Justin 
 Martyr. But it was not in Rome alone that the condi- 
 tion of the Christians at this time was painfully trying. 
 The extraordinary diffusion of the Gospel in the far- 
 thest regions of the world, and the multitudes of every 
 name and of every rank who daily crowded to its stand- 
 ard, had roused the serious alarm of the friends and 
 supporters of paganism, and scarcely ever did persecu- 
 tion attain such a height of violence, as when Marcus 
 Aurelius presided over the destinies of the Roman world. 
 As if a universal conspiracy had been formed, the most 
 tremendous tumults simultaneously broke forth every 
 where, and war was proclaimed against all who were 
 eminent, or known, as Christians. The churches of 
 Athens, Lyons, and Vienna, which boasted of a nu- 
 merous body of members, were deprived of their pastors 
 and their principal ornaments, and so greatly reduced 
 as to be almost totally annihilated. In Laodicea, 
 Smyrna, Sardis, and all the populous cities of Asia 
 Minor, the same spirit of active hostility reigned. 
 Not that any new decrees against the Christians had 
 been issued, for the ancient laws of Trajan and Had- 
 rian were still in force ; but the philosophic emperor, 
 though highly extolled for his humane disposition and 
 
220 TRIALS. 
 
 • 
 
 amiable character, entertained a profound contempt 
 for the Christians, and though it is pretty certain that 
 he had some knowledge of their principles and habits, 
 yet the cold stern spirit of stoicism which pervaded his 
 whole character, froze in his bosom the streams of ad- 
 miration, which must otherwise have copiously flowed 
 while he contemplated their numerous virtues. More- 
 over, his fond and often ridiculous partiality for the 
 philosophers, in whose society he delighted to spend 
 his hours of pastime and leisure, and with many of 
 the most eminent of whom he maintained a constant 
 correspondence, led him to give a credulous ear to the 
 most vile and improbable insinuations which that 
 learned and speculative body condescended to circu- 
 late to the prejudice of the Christians. Whether some 
 of those companions of his favourite studies had ob- 
 tained an express permission, or trusted for impunity 
 to his well-tried friendship for their sect, certain it is, 
 that by their instigation toleration was withdrawn from 
 the Christians, and the united voices of the priests and 
 people were vehemently raised for the destruction of 
 the whole Christian name. The magistrates, though 
 all other business was completely suspended, felt 
 themselves unable to attend to the innumerable cases 
 that were brought before their tribunals. The evidence 
 of slaves, and the prejudiced testimony of the lowest 
 rabble, was readily entertained by numbers of the 
 governors and judges, whom fear or bribes had gained 
 over, and the property of the condemned was given 
 as a reward to the accusers. By holding forth such 
 temptations to false witnesses, a prodigious impulse 
 was given to the cause of persecution. Every Chris- 
 tian whose money or lands excited the cupidity of 
 his envious neighbours, or whose virtuous presence 
 overawed their fraudulent transactions in business, or 
 whose removal might promise an accuser advancement 
 to a lucrative office, or a more extended trade, was 
 forthwith dragged before the public tribunals. If to 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY AURELIUS. 221 
 
 the usual interrogatory, — " Art thou a Christian ? " 
 he repHed in the affirmative, as all true Christians 
 did, no tedious formalities of justice were observed, — 
 from that moment his fate w^as sealed ; and although 
 the laws of former emperors, by which no Christian 
 should be punished but for a violation of the institu- 
 tions of the empire, were not rescinded, yet the joint 
 influence of the philosophers and the priests carried 
 every thing before them, — overpowered the feeble 
 opposition of such of the pro^dncial magistrates as 
 showed a scrupulous regard to humanity and justice, 
 and succeeded in deluging every city, and almost every 
 hamlet, of the Roman world, Avith rivers of Christian 
 blood. From some hints in the numerous Apologies 
 which this troublous period called forth, it appears 
 that new tests had been prepared, probably under a 
 pretext of humanity, and to give a better colour to 
 these sanguinary proceedings. It was proclaimed, for 
 instance, that whoever would swear by the genius of 
 the emperor, should, though he were an avowed Chris- 
 tian, be suffered to live unmolested. But this insi- 
 dious oath was well known, by its original contrivers, 
 to be of such a nature that the principles of Christians 
 would not allow them to take it. Such were the trials 
 to which, during the greater part of twenty years, the 
 Christians were subjected ; and though at intervals 
 the appetite for Christian blood was allayed, being 
 glutted with the very satiety of victims, yet it returned 
 again with fresh vigour ; for, as there were two reign- 
 ing emperors, the religious propriety of the one, the 
 triumphant arms of the other, and the frequent anni- 
 versaries held in honour of both, calling, at no distant 
 periods, for a new celebration of festivities and games, 
 were seasons which, on account of the idolatrous cere- 
 monies that accompanied them, always proved fatal 
 to the followers of Christ. In these widespread and 
 prolonged troubles, multitudes fell of whom the world 
 was not worthy — men who, though of little note in 
 
222 TllIALS. 
 
 the estimation of the world, had their record on high, 
 — in the number of whom were the celebrated Poly- 
 carp, Bishop of Smyrna, and Justin, sirnamed Martyr ; 
 the one, venerable for the sanctity of his personal 
 character, and for being the last surviving contem- 
 porary of the apostles, — and the other, for combining 
 the garb of a philosopher in happiest union Avith the 
 humility of the saint. But neither the beauty of virtue 
 nor the dignity of wisdom, could afford any protection, 
 when allied with the odious profession of the Christian. 
 And, oh! indelible stain on the boasted philosophy of 
 man, intolerance never was more rampant than when 
 one of her devoted disciples sat on the throne of the 
 Roman world. 
 
 In the year 193, Septimius Severus became emperor 
 — his craftiness and indefatigable activity, as well as 
 tlie vigour of his arms, having obtained for him the 
 victory over his numerous rivals. There is some rea- 
 son to believe, that in the beginning of his reign, he 
 was inclined to be favourable to the Christians, from 
 the circumstance of his admitting into his palace a 
 Christian slave, who had cured him of a lingering 
 disorder, and his engaging a Christian nurse for his 
 son ; although it is probable that this kindly disposi- 
 tion proceeded more from a strong sense of personal 
 jT^ratitude, than from any good-will towards their re- 
 ligion. In a few years he completely altered his 
 policy, and whatever was the cause of this change, — 
 whether his mind had become disaffected towards the 
 followers of Christ, through the influence of his cour- 
 tiers and favourite officers, whom he kept constantly 
 around his person, or he had seen with alarm, during 
 his foreign travels, the extraordinary increase of the 
 new sect, and from the other competitors for the 
 throne having been aided by formidable bodies of 
 supporters, ho was afraid the Christians might form a 
 new party in the State, — certain it is that he published 
 tv.'o severe edicts against them, the one prohibiting 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY SEPTIMIUS SEVERUS. 223 
 
 all persons from embracing Christianity,* and the 
 other making attendance on illegal meetings, such as 
 the churches Avere, a criminal offence. These pro- 
 clamations aimed at the gradual suppression of the 
 obnoxious faith ; and as they were viewed in that 
 light by the governors of provinces, and the eagle-eyed 
 heathens, this was the signal for the commencement 
 of a persecution, which was then the more severely 
 felt, from the considerable interval of repose tlie Chris- 
 tians had enjoyed between the death of Marcus Aurelius 
 and the accession of Severus. The ancient enmity of 
 the pagans, which, during the reign of the monster 
 Commodus, and the political convulsions that followed 
 his assassination, had yielded for a time to the stronger 
 principle of self-preservation,"j" immediately burst into 
 a flame, and, in all parts of the world, raged with a 
 vigour and inhumanity, that led the Christians of those 
 days to imagine that the " perilous times" had come 
 which marked the reign of Antichrist. The chief 
 seat of the persecution was Alexandria, where Severus 
 himself, during his residence in Egypt, having dis- 
 covered a vast concourse of Christians, appointed first 
 Loetus, and afterwards Aquila, governors, whose violent 
 
 * This edict included conversions to Judaism also. Speaking of this 
 edict, Mosheira saj's, — " Severus did not enact any new laws against the 
 Christians, nor did he command the extermination of that religion and its 
 professors. Ail that he wished was the prevention of any farther increase 
 of the Church, and ordered those to be punished who should revolt from 
 the religion of their fathers to the Christian worship. They who, by birth, 
 were Christians, and had become such previous to the publication of the 
 edict, had no reason to apprehend danger from it. The ancient laws, 
 indeed, particularly the celebrated edict of Trajan, which were still unre- 
 ])ealed, might cause them alarm. But on none who were Christians before 
 did this law of Severus (aU heavily." — The Affairs of Christians bifore the 
 tint'i of Constantino, p. 456. So says that learned historian ; but it is quite 
 evident that the emperor, by the heavy blow and great discouragement this 
 edict gave to Christianity, contemplated the reduction of the Christian 
 disciples, and their eventual extinction. And this view is placed beyond 
 all doubt by the circumstance, that the publication was followed by an 
 immediate and extensive persecution, which, if Severus had wished to 
 show clemency to the Christians, he would have stopped. 
 
 t The reason assigned in the text was certainly one cause of the compa- 
 rative security of the Christians in the reign of Commodus. But it is a 
 singular fact, that the Christians owed their peace to the dishonourable 
 intiuence of Marcia, his favourite mistress. This disgraceful woman pro- 
 fessed Christianity, and, from whatever motives, was favourable to the 
 Christians. 
 
224 TRIALS. 
 
 tempers led them to enter cordially into the views 
 of their master, and who, being left to follow their 
 discretion by the return of the emperor to Rome, 
 committed the most dreadful havoc on the church of 
 that city. Among the most eminent who suffered for 
 their religion, was Leonidas, the father of Origen, 
 whose zeal and attachment to the Gospel being invin- 
 cible by menace or torture, procured him the distinc- 
 tion of being thrown into the strongest and most 
 loathsome dungeon of Alexandria. In that abode of 
 wretchedness, he vras refreshed by the high Christian 
 spirit of his youthful son, who contrived to convey to 
 him a letter in these brief but emphatic words, " Take 
 care and do not change your mind on our account." 
 A few hours after receipt of this wonderful expression 
 of Christian devotion, Leonidas was summoned for 
 execution ; and in company of a great number of his 
 believing fellow-citizens, laid down his life rather 
 than abjure the Gospel. The fate of the survivors 
 was scarcely, if at all, milder than that of the martyrs. 
 Their honours forfeited, their property confiscated, 
 and themselves reduced to a state of beggary, they 
 were often indebted for a miserable subsistence to the 
 clandestine bounty of their friends. This was the 
 case with Origen, who, though only seventeen years of 
 age, had already braved all the terrors of martyrdom 
 by the powerful and manly avoAval of his faith, and 
 was, together with a numerous family of brothers and 
 sisters, preserved from absolute starvation only by the 
 kindness of a lady of fortune. The famous Christian 
 school of Alexandria was ruined ; and Clement, who 
 was its principal teacher and ornament, fled from the 
 storm into the remote province of Cappadocia. His 
 place was immediately taken by the undaunted Origen, 
 whose escape, as he was extremely obnoxious to the 
 heathen populace, was sometimes almost miraculous. 
 He visited the martyrs in prison, and paid the most 
 assiduous attentions to all who suffered for the sake 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY SEVERUS — ORIGEN. 225 
 
 of Christianity, whether they were acquaintances or 
 stranofers. He had even courajje to continue these 
 assiduities to them after sentence of condemnation 
 had been pronounced on them ; attended them to the 
 place of execution; saluted tliem with the kiss of 
 peace — the solemn token of Christian affection, and 
 was sometimes nearly stoned to death on his return 
 from the scenes of martp'dom. On one occasion, it 
 is said, that he was forced to stand at the threshold 
 of the temple of Serapis, with his head shaved and 
 uncovered, and to present palm-branches to the wor- 
 shippers as they entered ; but he defended himself, 
 the legend continues, by the constant repetition in 
 secret of the name of Christ. The story is probably 
 apocryphal ; but there is no doubt, that his irrepres- 
 sible zeal, often unnecessarily and uncautiously dis- 
 played, exposed him to daily hazards ; and the wonder 
 is, that a person of his eminent character and exten- 
 sive influence preserved his life amid dangers which, 
 on every side, were thinning the ranks of the Chris- 
 tians.* " One of his scholars, called Plutarch, was 
 led to martyrdom. Origen accompanied him to the 
 place of execution. The odium of the scholar's suf- 
 ferings reflected on the master, and it was not without 
 a peculiar providence that he escaped the vengeance 
 of the citizens. After him Serenus suffered by fire — 
 the third martyr was Heraclides — the fourth Heron. 
 The former had not yet been baptized, being in the 
 ranks of the catechumens, the latter had been recently 
 baptized, but both were beheaded. A second Serenus, 
 of the same school, having sustained great torments 
 and much pain, was beheaded. Patamidna, a young 
 
 * At the time of his father's death, Origen vehemently courte^l the 
 honour of a martyr's death. He was then, tiiough but a very young man, 
 never absent from the trial and executions of the Christian sufferers, whose 
 fate he envied, and did every thing to procure his own substitution in 
 their place. His mother employed threats, entreaties, and tears, in vain ; 
 and when she saw that nothing else would do, but he would suffer with 
 his tfather and other Christian relatives, she exerted an unusual degree 
 of maternal authority,— confined him to the house, and concealed from 
 him his dress. 
 
226 TRIALS. 
 
 woman, remarkable for her beauty, purity of mind, and 
 firmness in the faith, suffered very dreadful torments ; 
 she was scourged very severely by the order of Aquila, 
 the judge, who threatened to deliver her to be abused 
 by the basest characters. But she remained firm in 
 the faith, was led to the fire, and burned, together 
 with her mother, Marcella. The heart of Basilides, a 
 soldier, who presided at her execution, was softened. 
 He pitied her, treated her courteously, and protected 
 her, so far as he durst, from the insolence of the mob. 
 She acknowledged his kindness, thanked him, and 
 promised that, after her departure, she would entreat 
 the Lord for him. Scalding pitch was poured over 
 her whole body, which she sustained with astonishing- 
 patience. Some time after, Basilides being required 
 by his fellow-soldiers to swear profanely on a certain 
 occasion, he refused, and professed himself a Christian. 
 They disbelieved him at first, but finding him serious, 
 they forthwith carried him to the judge, who threw 
 him into prison, where he was visited by multitudes 
 of sympathizing Christians, till he proved his sincerity 
 by martyrdom." * 
 
 From Alexandria, the persecution spread over the 
 northern parts of Africa, and the flourishing church 
 , of Carthage soon witnessed the same scenes of horror 
 that had been perpetrated among the brethren in the 
 capital of Egypt. The governor of Proconsular- Africa 
 at that time w^as Saturninus, on whom the infamy 
 rests of being the first in that quarter of the world to 
 put Christians to death ; and he made it evident that 
 he did not understand the edict of Severus as meant 
 only to prevent any new conversions from the ranks 
 of idolatry to the Gospel, as he commenced and super- 
 intended a persecution against Christians of all ages 
 and conditions, whether they had been trained to that 
 religion from their birth or not. The proceedings 
 were characterised by the most revolting barbarities. 
 
 * Milner. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY SEVERUS. 22? 
 
 A succession of proconsuls, each surpassing his prede- 
 cessor in the intensity of his hatred to the Christians, 
 dyed the shores of Africa with the blood of martyrs, 
 and in their rude and unfeeling treatment of some 
 believers of venerable age and tender sex, occasioned 
 scenes of the most painfully interesting nature to be 
 found in the records of the Church. It is sufficient 
 simply to mention here the names of Felicitas and 
 Perpetua, and their companions in death, as a more 
 extended notice of their Christian fortitude and meek- 
 ness will be given in a subsequent part of this volume. 
 Nor were these calamitous events confined to that 
 remote province. In Antioch, where the prohibitory 
 edict of Severus originated, — in Lyons, the recent 
 scene of former barbarities, and where Irena?us, the 
 bishop, with many of his flock, now perished in the 
 most miserable manner, — and in various other places, 
 the situation of the Christians was to the last degree 
 afflicting. Rome itself, which, for a long time, knew 
 of the persecution only by the rumour of distant dis- 
 asters, at last, owing to some events of interest to the 
 imperial family, felt all the severity of the war against 
 the Church. The year 203 happened to be the tenth 
 amiiversary of Severus' accession ; and as the same 
 period was rendered memorable by the celebration of 
 a triumph for the emperor's victories in the East, and 
 for the marriage of his eldest son, Caracalla, frequent 
 demonstrations of public rejoicing took place, which 
 were attended with more than usual outbursts of 
 popular fury against the Christians. These insults 
 were renewed with increased malignity and bitterness 
 a few weeks after, at the celebration of the secular 
 games, which, although the ordinary period of one 
 hundred years was not expired, the emperor resolved, 
 contrary to all precedent, to hold. At these games, 
 the national rites were performed with overpowering 
 pomp. The priests and ministers of idolatry exhausted 
 their powers of invention to vary the spectacles for the 
 
228 TRIALS. 
 
 gratification of the populace ; and as the conscientious 
 scruples of the Christians forbade them even to sanc- 
 tion with their presence the riotous and obscene exhi- 
 bitions which occurred at the carnival, the offended 
 multitude broke into their houses, pillaged their effects, 
 and, dragging them to the public streets, committed 
 the most lawless outrages on those whom they could 
 not induce, by force or persuasion, to bear a part in 
 the mummeries of superstition. These intolerable 
 trials gave rise to a new expedient, which, though 
 they chiefly resorted to it in the hope of procuring a 
 mitigation of their sufferings, and toleration for their 
 religion, eventually proved the unhappy cause of in- 
 creasing and prolonging the persecution. This was 
 the practice of purchasing, by a yearly or monthly 
 tribute to the magistrate of the bounds, the privilege 
 of protection to their persons, and indulgence in the 
 exercise of their worship ; and not content with this, 
 some, wearied Avith extremity of suffering, even went 
 so far as to give occasional hush-money to soldiers and 
 informers, — preferring to give their goods in this way, 
 in the hope of insuring a little respite, to leaving their 
 families to be plundered, and their lives in continual 
 jeopardy. The most eminent men of that da}'' in the 
 Christian Church, with few exceptions, sanctioned 
 these measures by their approval ; nor, though it does 
 seem to cast a slight shade on the honour of the Chris- 
 tian name, should we apply the rules of too severe a 
 judgment to a proceeding which many sincere, but 
 timid believers, might have adopted to secure the un- 
 molested privilege and comforts of their faith. But it 
 was soon felt, to their bitter disappointment, to be an 
 occasion of adding sorrow upon sorrow. The cupidity 
 of their oppressors was set on edge, and ever and anon 
 rumours of new laws were circulated — fresh measures 
 of rapacity were invented, to extort money from the 
 wretched caste of Christians. Governors of provinces 
 and others, anxious to improve their fortune during the 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY SEVERUS AND CARACALLA. 229 
 
 brief term of their administration, levied heavy contri- 
 butions on that people; and although, for the lionour of 
 humanity, it must be mentioned that there were some 
 noble exceptions, y^t the great majority of the magis- 
 trates were cruel and rapacious tyrants, who abused 
 their official power to the purposes of personal aggran- 
 disement, and whose more open oppressions were 
 seconded by those of numerous bands of ruffians in 
 every city, whose means of subsistence were solely 
 derived from the secret supplies they exacted for 
 suppressing their calumnies and lies. The Christians 
 continued in this state of grievous oppression during 
 the whole reign of Severus ; and after his death, which 
 took place at York in the year 211, his son and suc- 
 cessor, Caracalla, being a man of the most unnatural 
 severity of temper, continued the same hostile policy 
 towards them. He did not, indeed, commence any 
 new persecution, and was, from his early recollections 
 of his nurse, rather favourably inclined than otherwise 
 towards the folloAvers of Christ ; but he allowed the 
 old laws against them to remain in force — magistrates 
 were, as usual, left to their own discretion as to the 
 mild or rigorous interpretation of them. If a few, 
 yielding to the voice of humanity, dismissed the accu- 
 sations, and showed clemency and protection to the 
 professors of the new religion, the great majority, 
 participating in the popular enmity, or from sordid 
 and rapacious motives, executed the law to the very 
 letter ; and from the interesting dialogue of Minucius 
 Felix, an eminent Christian lawyer of Rome, as well 
 as from the no less interesting letter of Tertullian to 
 Scapula, governor of Africa, it is but too certain, that 
 during: the reifrn of Caracalla, the sword, though not 
 authorised by the emperor, dealt terrible execution 
 every where on the unhappy Christians. 
 
CHAPTER IL 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 PERSECUTION BY MAXIMINUS OF THRACE— BY DECIOS— COURT OF INQUI- 
 SITION — SAFETY SOUGHT BY FLIGHT, AND INDULGENCE PURCHASED BY 
 SOME WITH MONEY — LETTER OF DIONYSIUS — MARTYRDOM OF JULIAN — 
 TRIAL OF DIOSCARUS — SINGULAR FATE OF NUMIDICUS— WOMAN FORCED 
 TO SACRIFICE BY HER HUSBAND— SEVERE SUFFERINGS BY THE MINIS- 
 TERS — CYPRIAN PROSCRIBED — HIS FLIGHT— CH^REMON CAPTURED BY 
 THE SARACENS — PAUL — THE FIRST HERMIT — TRAGI-COMIC FATE OF 
 DIONYSIUS — UNHAPPY CONSEQUENCES OF THE DECIAN PERSECUTION — 
 SHORT BUT PERSECUTING REIGN OF GALLUS — VALERIAN — INFLUENCE 
 OF THE ASTROLOGER MACRIANUS EXERTED AGAINST THE CHRISTIANS — 
 VALERIAN BANISHES THE BISHOPS — GREAT ACTIVITY AND SUCCESS IN 
 THEIR EXILE — LABOURS OF CYPRIAN AND DIONYSIUS — PUBLICATION OF 
 NEW AND SEVERER EDICT — SEVERITIES AT ROME — MARTYRDOM OF 
 SEXTUS IN A CEMETERY, AND OF CYPRIAN AT CARTHAGE — DEATH OF 
 VALERIAN, AND TRANQUILLITY OF THE CHURCH — ITS GROWING NUMBERS, 
 BUT DECLINE IN PIETY — BEGINNING OF DIOCLETIAN'S PERSECUTION — 
 AUGURIES— RESIGNATION OF MULTITUDES OF SOLDIERS— MARCELLUS — 
 SAVAGE DISPOSITION OF GALERIUS — HERESIES OF THE MANICHEES — 
 ENTERTAINMENTS OF ROMULA — CHURCHES DEMOLISHED— SCRIPTURES 
 BURNT- INDISCREET ZEAL AND SEVERE PUNISHMENT OF A CHRISTIAN — 
 BARBARITIES IN THE PALACE — IN NUMIDIA— ROME — ANTIOCH — CASE OF 
 ROMANUS— SEARCHING FOR SCRIPTURES — CONCEALMENT OF THEM — 
 READERS — FATE OF ONE IN NUMIDIA, AND OF FELIX — INDISCRETION OF 
 SOME CHRISTIANS— COWARDICE OF OTHERS— BARBARITIES OF MAXIMIN 
 — CASE OF APPHIAN— AGAPIUS FIGHTING WITH A BEAR — MILDER EDICT 
 OF GALERIUS — ARTFUL POLICY OF MAXIMIN. 
 
 Things continued in tolerable tranquillity Avith the 
 Christians from the death of Caracalla till the year 
 235, when the destinies of the empire were committed 
 to the hands of Maximinus. This man, who had 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY MAXIMINUS OF THRACE. 231 
 
 been born and bred in Thracia, advanced himself, by 
 his boldness and physical powers, through the suc- 
 cessive stages of a shepherd, of a highway robber, and 
 a soldier in the ranks, to the dignity of the imperial 
 throne. In strength and stature he was of Hercu- 
 lean growth, and his Avhole appearance and bearing 
 was that of one totally destitute of education, and 
 rouo-h as the ruirced mountains on which he was 
 nursed. Seldom has a greater monster appeared in 
 the garb of humanity. Relying on his extraordinary 
 muscular powers, he committed the most lawless out- 
 rages — destroying men, or plundering their houses, 
 with equal indifference, especially all those who were 
 acquainted with the manner of his birth, or who 
 threatened to stand in the way of his insatiable ambi- 
 tion. Having assassinated his master, he usurped the 
 empire, through the aid of the soldiers, Avhom he had 
 gained over to his interests, and from the moment 
 that he felt himself possessed of the power, he gov- 
 erned on his favourite maxim, — that mankind were 
 not to be made to obey but by cruelty. The Chris- 
 tians, of course, could not escape the vengeance of 
 this brutal tyrant ; and, as if he had determined that 
 his policy towards them should in all respects be 
 diametrically opposite to that of his excellent prede- 
 cessor, Alexander Severus, in whose household many 
 Christians had found a paternal asylum, and whose 
 patronage raised numbers of them to official dignities, 
 he directed the whole weight of his fury against the 
 ministers and members of the Church, as the chief 
 abettors and support of Christianity. A fierce crusade 
 was commenced in every province against them, by 
 the force of which, multitudes of the most eminent 
 Christians were driven, houseless and unprovided 
 wanderers, abroad on the world, and suffered the most 
 dreadful extremities of cold, hunger, and fatigue. 
 Being not allowed to appear in cities or in the public 
 haunts of society, they were reduced to the cruel ne- 
 
232 TRIALS. 
 
 cessity of passing their days on solitary mountains, and 
 tlieir nights in dens and caves of the earth, deriving a 
 poor and precarious subsistence from the occasional 
 bounty of their friends that dared to approach them, or 
 from the raw and unwholesome roots of the earth. In 
 Asia Minor, some alarming earthquakes, that were 
 attended with great destruction of life and property, 
 increased the violence of the persecution. Among the 
 most conspicuous of the sufferers, though they were not 
 put to death, were Ambrose and Origen — the latter of 
 whom sought safety in concealment. Happily, the 
 kindness of Providence limited the tyrant's reign to 
 the brief period of three years — a period sufficiently 
 long, however, to have witnessed the ranks of the 
 Christians undergoing a melancholy diminution ; and 
 although it is certain, that no class of his subjects was 
 exempt from the capricious cruelties of Maximinus, 
 the Christians in this reign, as usual, were singled out 
 as especial victims in the list of those whom the t}Tant 
 proscribed and devoted to destruction. 
 
 After the death of Maximinus, the trials of the Chris- 
 tians, which for a while had been forgotten during a 
 ten, or, as in some churches, a thirty years' enjoyment 
 of tranquillity and peace, were renewed with unpre- 
 cedented violence, on Decius acquiring possession of 
 the empire. His accession took place in the year 249, 
 and as the persecution against the Christians was 
 almost the first act of his government, it is not im- 
 probable that his advancement to the imperial dignity 
 was promoted by the zeal and successful manoeuvres of 
 the Pagans, who, seeing the disciples of Jesus flourish- 
 ing under the patronage and protection of Philip, the 
 reigning emperor, were painfully convinced that there 
 was no hope of reducing tlieir numbers and exter- 
 minating their religion, except by elevating a de- 
 voted worshipper of the gods to the post of govern- 
 ment. Never could man have been found fitter for 
 their purpose than Decius, who, to a most bigoted 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DECIUS. 233 
 
 attachment to idolatry, added the stern and inflex- 
 ible maintenance of the Roman poHcy, that the old 
 religion was a fundamental part of the constitution, 
 and should be upheld against all attempts at inno- 
 vation. Accordingly, while most of his persecuting 
 predecessors, after the time of Trajan, only connived 
 at the outrages committed on the Christians, and con- 
 tented themselves with the old laws — which provided 
 for those w^ho professed the Gospel Vi)rious means of 
 escape, — this emperor directed his whole energies to 
 the devising of measures, which would most effectually 
 crush it, and leave not a single adherent of the Chris- 
 tian faith wdthin the limits of the Roman empire. In 
 the beginning of the year 250, he issued an edict, that 
 an inquiry should be made into the state of the estab- 
 lished religion, and that all persons should be obliged 
 to celebrate divine worship according to the rites of 
 idolatry. The tyrannical mandate was sent to all 
 parts of the world; and governors and magistrates 
 were enjoined, on the severest penalties for disobe- 
 dience, to see it faithfully and rigorously carried into 
 execution. With a view to this, a court w^as held in 
 every district, consisting of the magistrates and five of 
 the principal inhabitants, before whom, all who were 
 suspected of not observing the religious institutions of 
 the empire, and of having embraced Christianity, were 
 summoned to appear. This local board, invested with 
 all the powers, and with an equal share of the wily and 
 infernal arts of the Star-Chamber in England, or the In- 
 quisition m Spain, inquired into the religious opinions 
 and practices of every individual within their bounds. 
 A certain form of interrogatories was drawn up — the 
 chief of which were, whether the persons accused were 
 in the habit of frequenting the temples, and were dis- 
 posed to reverence the faith of their ancestors ? If 
 they answered in the affirmative, they were forthwith 
 desired to prove the sincerity of their answers, by 
 swearing by the name of Jupiter, and sacrificing, — 
 
234 TRIALS. 
 
 after which they were dismissed with honour and ap- 
 plause. If* the reply was of a contrary nature, they 
 were offered the alternative of abjuring the religion of 
 Christ, or undergoing a course of the most rigorous 
 punishment. There was no possibility of escape from 
 the searching inquirers ; and although the full ven- 
 geance of the edict w^as aimed at the bishops and lead- 
 ers of the Church, whose presence and example it was 
 thought were a great encouragement to mislead the 
 people, and on whom sentence of death was pro- 
 nounced the moment they hesitated about giving a 
 ready and full recantation, yet all classes of Chris- 
 tians were included in the list of the proscribed, and 
 proceeded against with unrelenting severity, if they 
 refused to comply wdth the rites of the State religion. 
 Stern as was the procedure of this court of inquisition, 
 it was at first intended that they should confine them- 
 selves to the infliction of lighter punishments, and try 
 the effects of persuasions, commands, and threats, be- 
 fore they pushed matters to extremity ; when they 
 found the multitudes of Christians so much greater, 
 and the spirit of many of them so mucli more deter- 
 mined, than they had any idea of, they gradually ad- 
 vanced to greater severity, till every one who showed 
 symptoms of obstinacy, as it was called, — that is, of 
 immovable attachment to the Christian worship, w^as 
 subjected to a variety of tortures. Many, when served 
 with a summons to compear before the court to un- 
 dergo examination, took fright, and before the day 
 arrived, fled from the countr}'-, in consequence of which 
 they were immediately outlawed, their property con- 
 fiscated, and themselves forbidden to return, under 
 penalty of death. But, in every place, great num- 
 bers, who were unwilling to part with their posses- 
 sions, and who could not bear the idea of going into 
 voluntary exile, resolved to abide the consequences 
 of an examination by this dread tribunal — and to take 
 their cliance of braving the more searching inquiries, 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DECIUS. 235 
 
 or in some way softening the disposition of the in- 
 quisitors. The latter expedient of giving money or 
 secret bribes to the more avaricious magistrates, which 
 was fallen upon by some, whose courage failed them 
 at the sight of the torture, unhappily became too 
 general ; and numbers of Christians flattered them - 
 selves, that they incurred the guilt neither of sacrifice 
 nor throwing incense on the pagan altars, but retained 
 their faith inviolate, when they allowed a certificate to 
 be publicly shown, stating, that they had obeyed the 
 edict, or procured the insertion of their names in the 
 public register, along Avith those who had actually 
 complied with the mandate of the emperor. But the 
 sincere and worthy believers shrunk from so mean and 
 questionable a way of preserving their personal safety, 
 and magnanimously professing themselves Christians, 
 they were, in order to shake their resolution, subjected 
 to a variety of tortures, after which they were thrown 
 into prison, where cold, hunger, and solitary confine- 
 ment were left to do the work of brinffinsr about either 
 their recantation or their death. The most deplorable 
 consequences every where followed these rigorous pro- 
 ceedings — of which some idea may be formed from 
 the letter of a contemporary writer, Dionysius, bishop 
 of Alexandria. " All were overwhelmed," says he, 
 " with dismay. Many of the most eminent amongst 
 us, through, fear, presented themselves at the first sum- 
 mons ; others employed in public business were forced 
 to appear in virtue of their ofiices ; and others were 
 dragged before the heathen tribunals by their friends 
 and relatives. Diverse was the behaviour of those who, 
 as they were cited by name, went up to the impure 
 and unhallowed sacrifices. Some appeared pale and 
 trembling, as if they themselves, instead of sacrificing 
 unto the idols, had been about to be sacrificed, inso- 
 much that they were scoffed at by the surrounding 
 multitude, as men who were evidently afraid either 
 to sacrifice or to die. But others ran hastily forward 
 
236 TRIALS, 
 
 to the altars, affirming boldly that they had never 
 been Christians, — of whom it was most truly said 
 before by our Lord, ' that such men should hardly 
 be saved.' Of the rest, some imitated the examples 
 already described — some fled, others were seized. Of 
 those who were seized, some, either immediately or 
 after certain days, without having been brought to 
 trial, abjured, and others, by force of torture, re- 
 nounced the faith. But the firm and blessed pillars 
 of our Lord having been strengthened by Him, and 
 having received might and fortitude, according to the 
 mighty power of faith that was in them, became the 
 admirable witnesses of the kingdom, — among these 
 was Julian, who, suffering from the gout, and unable 
 to stand or walk, was borne to the place of trial by 
 the other Christians, — one of whom instantly aposta- 
 tized, but the others, with Julian, avowed their faith 
 in the Lord ; and they were conducted on camels 
 throughout the whole streets of the city, openly 
 scourged, and at length, in presence of the multitude, 
 burnt to death. A soldier, who was one of the by- 
 standers at the martyrdom of Julian and his com- 
 panion, endeavoured to stop the insults of the multi- 
 tude. But the mob cried out, ' Away with him also 
 to the judgment-seat,' — and this most courageous 
 champion of the Lord, having quitted himself manfully 
 in the great combat for the cause of piety, was behead- 
 ed. Conspicuous among the Alexandridli Christians, 
 who on this occasion witnessed a good confession, was 
 Dioscarus, a young lad of fourteen years of age. The 
 governor imagining this youth to be gentle and pliable, 
 tried, by fair speeches, to ensnare him and get him to 
 sacrifice. But Dioscarus resisted all his arts of per- 
 suasion, and although, to intimidate him, he scourged 
 several older Christians in his presence in the most 
 savage manner, and some, who were very persevering 
 in the faith, he committed to the flames, yet none of 
 these things could move Dioscarus, who eminently 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DECIUS. 237 
 
 distinguished himself in sight of the whole concourse 
 of spectators, answering mildly but lirmly to every 
 question, so that the governor was astonished, and 
 said, ' In tespect of thy youth, I will allow thee farther 
 time for amendment,' and dismissed him."* In other 
 places, there were exhibitions of Christian courage and 
 fidelity to the cause of Christ no less admirable than 
 those at Alexandria. Numidicus, an office-bearer in 
 the church of Cyprian, at Carthage, may be mentioned, 
 for the singularity of the circumstances attending his 
 martyrdom. He had braved every personal danger, 
 in his benevolent anxiety to encourage and strengthen 
 the faith of others. He had seen his own wife seal 
 her testimony on the funeral pile ; and, having thus 
 distinguished himself as a most zealous believer, he 
 was soon after condemned to be consumed with fire. 
 As he was the last of a great multitude who that 
 day had become glorious witnesses for the truth, the 
 multitude, weary with blood, overwhelmed him with 
 stones when half burnt, and then left him for dead. 
 His sorrowing daughter, who had been lingering near 
 the scene of execution, to collect the ashes of her 
 venerable parent, found him half buried under a heap 
 of rubbish; and, while she was prosecuting her filial 
 task of arranging the body for a decent interment, 
 was surprised and gladdened with apparent signs of 
 life in the mangled corpse. By the tender assiduities 
 of the dauo^hter, her martyred father was, through the 
 blessing of God, restored to her affections, and sur- 
 vived for a considerable time, to be the honoured in- 
 strument of solacing and strengtheningr the minds of 
 his distracted brethren, in those times when "men's 
 hearts were failing them for fear." Another incident, 
 which happened about the same period with the con- 
 demnation of Numidicus, is too remarkable to be 
 omitted. A woman was dragged, by her unfeeling 
 
 * Letter of Dionysius ; Hailes* Christian Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 9. 
 
238 TRIALS. 
 
 husband, to the altar, where he publicly attempted to 
 force her to sacrifice, by violently guiding her hands. 
 The wife was too strong in the faith, and had too 
 great a horror of touching the unclean thing, to con- 
 tinue silent ; she cried with the most vehement ges- 
 tures, " I did it not — I did it not ;" and forthwith, as 
 an incorrigible Christian, was sentenced to banish- 
 ment,* It would be easy, from the interesting records 
 of Christian antiquity, to swell the number of these 
 anecdotes, and to relate, in tales that would harrow 
 up the inmost feelings of the reader, the cold-blooded 
 cruelties that were perpetrated by the agents of the 
 Decian persecution, — the shortest, but the severest of 
 any that the Christians had hitherto been exposed to. 
 Not a place, where adherents of the Christian faith 
 were to be found, but had its court of inquisition, — 
 its ministers, or rather executioners, of justice, — its 
 apparatus of torture and death, — its sad spectacles of 
 old men and women, young men and maidens, people 
 both of high and low degree, losing their lives amid 
 the most appalling sufferings, because they could not 
 blaspheme the name of God and the Saviour. " It 
 would be easier," says an eminent writer, " to count 
 the sands of the sea shore, than to reckon up all the 
 martyrs that felt the weight of this persecution, — not 
 to say any thing of those incredible numbers of con- 
 fessors that were beaten, imprisoned, tormented, — 
 nor of the far greater number of those who betook 
 themselves to a voluntary exile, choosing rather to 
 commit themselves to the barrenness of rocks and 
 mountains, and the mercy of wild beasts, than to those 
 who trampled so cruelly on all the laws of nature and 
 humanity."']' But it was on the heads of the bishops 
 the vengeance of Decius fell most heavily. From the 
 first outbreak of this persecution, the most positive 
 orders were issued that the ofiice-bearers of the Church 
 should be hunted out; and that, on every individual 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 18. t Nicephorus, Book v. ch, 26. 
 
PERSECUTION BY DECIUS. 239 
 
 of that order who was convicted, sentence of death 
 should be passed without mercy. Many of the most 
 eminent and inflexible ended their days on the cross or 
 the pile, almost as soon as they were apprehended ; and 
 others, of whose pliable dispositions some hopes were 
 entertained, were thrown into prison, where, amid the 
 cold damps and burning heats to which they were 
 alternately subjected, and the parching and scanty 
 diet appointed them, in order to produce the pangs 
 of hunger and thirst, they fell victims in a few days 
 to severity of treatment. Some withdrew, while the 
 storm was raging, to a place of concealment, not from 
 a mean and cowardly apprehension of danger, but for 
 the benevolent motive of securing immediate tranquil- 
 lity to the Christian people, who suffered mainly by 
 their presence; and continued from their retreat to 
 send, from time to time, letters of consolation and en- 
 couragement, by the hands of trusty messengers, to the 
 beloved flock that were mourning their temporary 
 absence.* In the number of the latter v/as the famous 
 Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, v.ho, on account of his 
 pastoral activity, and prodigious influence, was pub- 
 licly proclaimed in the list of the proscribed, a price 
 set upon his head, and every one prohibited from har- 
 bouring his person and concealing his goods, which 
 were publicly sold in the market. The hostile mea- 
 sures of the emperor were vehemently seconded by the 
 multitude, who frequently demanded, at their public 
 spectacles and games, that Cyprian should be throAMi 
 to the lions. In these circumstances, dreading lest, by 
 his bold defiance of the proclamation against him, he 
 might provoke the greater vengeance of imperial fury 
 on his unoffending flock, and being especially admo- 
 nished, as he says, in a dream, by God, he thought it 
 prudent to retire for a while, till the violence of the 
 persecution should abate. The same spirit of inde- 
 fatigable activity and zeal which had distinguished 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 16. . 
 
240 TRIALS. 
 
 his ministry, gave him no time to weary in his soli- 
 tude, wlience he despatched no less than thirty-eight 
 letters, full of the most faithful councils, the "warmest 
 encouragements to the stedfest, the most pointed re- 
 proofs to the wavering, and tlie most fervent prayers 
 for the hest interests of all. The bishops and leading 
 members of the Church in Egypt pursued the same 
 course as Cj'prian, — by withdrawing from their posts 
 during the fierce heat of the Decian troubles. Among 
 these were several persons whose character and fate 
 entitle them to a special notice. One was Chseremon, 
 Bishop of Nilopolis, who fled with his wife to the 
 mountains;'"' among which, and in the adjoining 
 deserts by which the Eastern frontier of Egypt is 
 skirted, he continued till, in common with a great 
 number of illustrious exiles, he was carried off by the 
 hordes of Saracen robbers, who then for the first time 
 figure in history. t Multitudes, indeed, who sought 
 an asylum in the woods and mountains, encountered 
 death in more appalling forms than even those they 
 sought to escape, — pining under the most painful pri- 
 vations of hunger and thirst, — starved with cold, — 
 oppressed with malignant diseases, Avhich their miser- 
 able state of life had produced, — and preyed upon by 
 ravenous beasts, or captured by lawless banditti, and 
 carried into servitude more wretched by far than 
 death itself. Another was Paul, a young man scarcely 
 arrived at the age of puberty, and who, having been 
 left a large fortune by his parents, retired, to escape 
 the consequences of his Christian profession, — the loss 
 of liberty, property, and life, — to the Egyptian deserts, 
 where, in a spacious cavern on the side of a mountain, 
 he established his residence ; and becoming, from long 
 habit, enamoured of a solitary condition, set to the 
 hermits of after ages the first example of a mortified 
 and monastic life. :|; A third was Dionysius, Bishop 
 of Alexandria, who, as well from his presiding over 
 
 ♦ Euseb. Hist. Eccles., vi. 42. f Ibid., i. 42. J Cave's Lives. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DECIUS. 241 
 
 the largest and most flourishing church in the world, 
 as from his own personal eminence, was an especial 
 object of the emperor's hatred, and suffered severely 
 in the general calamity, although the g )od providence 
 of God preserved a person of so much usefulness from 
 the premature fate of martyrdom. An episode in his 
 history, connected with the troublous period of the 
 Decian persecution, may, by its tragi-comic nature, 
 relieve the painful interest of these anecdotes. So 
 strict and particular were the instructions sent to 
 Sabinus, the governor of Egypt, to apprehend and 
 dispose of the bishop, that, without a moment's delay, 
 he despatched an officer to surprise him, before any 
 suspicion of immerliate danger had alarmed the church 
 for the safety of their beloved pastor. The messen- 
 ger never dreaming that at such a time of uncertainty 
 and trouble, when almost all the ministers of the 
 Christians had betaken themselves to flight, Dionysius 
 would be quietly residing at home, waylaid every 
 place, and searched every corner of the city in vain 
 except the house which the bishop and his family 
 inhabited. Four days had he remained there, auaiting 
 the fate which he thought was inevita1)le, till at length, 
 yielding to the importunate entreaties of his friends, 
 he left the place, accompanied by a few of his Chris- 
 tian friends and favourite domestics, to consult their 
 safety in a distant land. They had not proceeded 
 far in their midnight expedition when they were 
 overtaken by a military party, who, as usual, were 
 prowling the country to seize all Christian fugitives 
 they could meet with ; and having discovered what 
 a valuable prize they had in their prisoner, led him 
 under a strong escort to the nearest centurion, who, 
 with his five inquisitorial colleagues, soon passed on 
 the bishop a sentence of death, and ordered him to be 
 conveyed to a little seaport, at a short distance from 
 Alexandria, to prevent any popular tumult which the 
 death of so eminent a man might occasion. It hap- 
 
242 TRIALS. 
 
 pened, that while the military guard were conducting 
 their prisoner to the scene of execution, they were 
 met by a man on his way to a marriage feast, who 
 learning, to his deep sorrow, the name and the fate of 
 Dionysius, told the sad story to the marriage company 
 on his arrival. The mournful intelligence threw a 
 gloom over every guest, and at length, fortifying 
 themselves with wine, they, with one consent, rushed 
 out of the house, entered the toAMi, and uttering the 
 most vociferous yells, attacked the doors of the cell 
 where Dionysius was confined till the morning. The 
 soldiers on guard, hearing the clamour of many voices, 
 were panic-struck, and betaking themselves to flight, 
 left their prisoner in the hands of the assailants, who, 
 having gained access to the chamber, found the 
 good man in his bed, enjoying a tranquil slumber, as 
 if nothing more than ordinary w^as to befall him on 
 the ensuing day. Being thus suddenly awakened, 
 and finding himself surrounded by a body of armed 
 men, he concluded they were robbers, and handing 
 them his clothes, that were lying beside him, bade 
 them take what little money they could find. With- 
 out disclosing their intentions, they commanded him 
 peremptorily to rise and accompany them ; and while 
 he was remonstrating with them, and beseeching them 
 in the most importunate manner not to embitter the 
 few hours he had yet to live, two of them approach- 
 ing his bed, laid hold on him, and dragging him to 
 the door, disappeared as suddenly and mysteriously 
 as they had come into his presence. His fellow- 
 prisoners, however, who had been apprised of the 
 stratagem, found him in the fields adjoining his late 
 prison, and after offering a short but united expres- 
 sion of thanksgiving for so strange a deliverance, 
 placed him on an ass, and withdrew^ with him to the 
 deserts of Egypt, where they remained till this sad 
 season of trial to the Christians was over, and happier 
 times restored Dionysius and other exiled bishops to 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DECIUS — GALLUS, 243 
 
 the communion of their brethren, and the piivileges 
 of Christian worship in their respective churches in 
 all parts of the Avorld.* The persecution of Decius 
 lasted not much above two years; but the sad and 
 withering effects it produced on the society of Chris- 
 tians were felt for many years after. Former per- 
 secutions had greatly reduced their ranks by the 
 martyrdom of some, the dispersion of others, and the 
 defection of not a few, whose courage failed them in 
 the day of severe trial. But these ravages, great and 
 mournful though they Avere, the rapid extension of 
 the Christian cause in a short time repaired, and a 
 respite of a few years found those churches which had 
 been the gi-eatest sufferers, boasting of a larger acces- 
 sion to their numbers, and flourishing more than ever. 
 But a returning season of tranquillity and peace could 
 not so easily remove the unhappy consequences of the 
 persecution of Decius. Although on his death the 
 sound of war ceased without, and against the Church, 
 the spirit of bitter discord had been roused within, and 
 the Christians found their communion, on the termi- 
 nation of this disastrous period, not only sadly thinned 
 by the death or apostasy of multitudes who had once 
 borne the name of Jesus, but distracted by many pain- 
 ful causes of contention among themselves, arising 
 out of the doubtful or criminal conduct of those who, 
 by real or pretended compliance with the rites of 
 idolatry, had purchased exemption from the impe- 
 rial vengeance. Perhaps no subject of controversy 
 w^as debated with greater keenness, or produced more 
 bitter animosity, than that which related to the pro- 
 per treatment of those who had lapsed in the Decian 
 persecution. 
 
 Decius being killed in a battle with the Goths, the 
 empire fell into the hands of Gallus, who, along with 
 the throne, inherited the enmity of his predecessor 
 towards the Christians. At the close of the year 252, 
 
 * Cave's Lives. 
 
244 TRIALS. 
 
 the persecution, begun in the former reign, and which 
 had never altogether ceased, althoujrh its authors had 
 grown WTary with slaughter, and their passions had 
 cooled, broke out with redoubled violence on the 
 occasion of a pestilence which was then beginning to 
 rage, and continued for fifteen months to commit the 
 most terrible ravages.* The guilt of these visitations 
 was, as usual, laid at the door of the Christians, and 
 the emperor issued an edict, commanding all ranks of 
 his subjects to make extraordinary s:»crifices to the 
 gods, in order that, by such tokens of devotion, they 
 might be prevailed on to withdraw so fatal a scourge. 
 The determined refusal of the Christians to comply 
 with the prescribed acts of idolatry, was not, in the 
 agitated state of the public mind, observed with in- 
 difference ; and accordingly, they were again doomed 
 to severe sufferings, multiturles both of old and young 
 being slain and burnt in various parts of the empire, 
 as a hecatomb of expiation to remove the anger of 
 the gods. The reign of Gallus was short ; and the 
 civil disturbances that followed, procured a respite to 
 the Christians, which lasted till Valerian was crowned 
 emperor in 254. This person, who ascended the throne 
 at a very advanced age, was, in the beginning of his 
 reign, most favourably disposed towards the Christians, 
 gave them the benefit of his patronage, introduced 
 them into his family, and into the highest offices of 
 government, in such numbers, that his court almost 
 resembled a church. + But this happy season — the 
 brightest which the friends of Christianity had ever 
 seen under any of the Roman emperors — proved like 
 a transient gleam of sunshine in a stormy day. 
 Through the insidious counsels of Macrianus, an 
 Egyptian astrologer, and a great encourager of the 
 arts of magic. Valerian was persuaded to change his 
 policy towards the Christians, to fliscourage and sup- 
 press their religion, and revive, with all the influence 
 
 * Eusebius, vii. 1 ; Cyprian, Epist. 55. f Eusebius, vii. 2. 
 
REIGN OF VALERIAN. 245 
 
 and example of the court, the almost obsolete rites of 
 Gentile worship. The ju^glin^ priests, who, of course, 
 were most active promoters of the new measures, put 
 in requisition every eni; ne for inflaming tlie popular 
 mind against the Christian doctrine, and gaining it 
 over to their own side ])v an endless diversity of pub- 
 lic amusements and splendid shows. Proceeding on 
 the views of Decius, that the rcmovul of the pastors, 
 who possessed so much influence over their flocks, 
 and the prohibition of all meetings in the churches 
 and the cemeteries, would lead to tlie speedy decline 
 of the cause of Jesus, tliey adopted at first the blood- 
 less policy of banisliing the bishops. Orders were 
 sent to all the provinces, that the rulers of the Chris- 
 tian churches should be sought for, and universally 
 condemned to exile ; and with such malignant plea- 
 sure and alacrity was the mandate transmitted all over 
 the empire, that in a few months there was not an 
 assembly of Christians which had not to mourn the 
 hopeless absence of its pastors and teachers. But the 
 authors of this deep stroke of policy were grievously 
 disappointed at its want of success ; the pastors, 
 though absent in the body, were present in spirit with 
 their beloved flocks. A constant intercourse, secretly 
 maintained by letters, or through the kind offices of 
 Christian travellers, lessened the pain and disadvan- 
 tages of local separation ; and by the war n interest 
 and pious exhortations of the venerated exiles, they 
 were as zealous and faithful in watching over their 
 spiritual concerns, and retained as strong a hold on 
 their affections, as if they were still present in the 
 midst of their people.* Moreover, as they found it 
 impossihle to cease the exercise of their ministerial 
 gifts while life and strength remained, thev diligently 
 sowed the seed of the Word in the solitudes whither 
 they were removed. Congregations gradually gather- 
 ed around them, and in many quarters where the joy- 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 76. 
 
246 TRIALS. 
 
 ful sound had never previously been heard, the zeal 
 and devotion of these banished ministers was glad- 
 dened with the society of a people " made ready for 
 the Lord." Thus acted Cyprian of Carthaj^je in his 
 lonely exile at Curubis,* and thus laboured Dionysius 
 of Alexandria in the Libyan solitudes of Cephron.t 
 " When we began to address ourselves to the benight- 
 ed inhabitants," writes the pious bishop, " Ave' were at 
 first persecuted and stoned, none would hear us pa- 
 tiently, but we persevered in the strength of the Lord, 
 and ere lone: not a few of the heathen turned from 
 idols and served the living God.":|: Thus was verified 
 the well-knoAvn observation of Luther, that the blood 
 of the mart}TS became the seed of the Church. Thus 
 did God make the wrath of man to praise him, and 
 turn the counsels of the Roman Ahithophels into 
 foolishness. 
 
 Disappointed in their sanguine hopes of crushing 
 Christianity, by breaking the connection between the 
 pastors and their fiocks. Valerian and his advisers 
 "> resolved on more rigorous proceedings — a change of 
 policy which was publicly announced the year follow- 
 ing by this edict : " All bishops, priests, and deacons, 
 shall forthwith be put to death. Persons of sena- 
 torial and equestrian order shall be degi'aded from 
 their ranks ; and if, after they are reduced to the level 
 of the common people, they persist in the profession 
 of Christianity, they shall be capitally punished. Pa- 
 trician ladies, who shall avow themselves Christians, 
 shall first suffer the confiscation of their fortunes, and 
 afterwards be banished. Slaves and freed-men, who 
 shall be found in the service of the imperial house- 
 
 * A barren tract of country, about 50 miles from Carthage. 
 
 t Euseb. vii. 11. 
 
 j Euseb. B. xi. ch. 11. Cave's Lives. Dionysius was afterwards or- 
 dered by the governor to remove to a more distant and disagreeable place 
 of banishment ; but he liad the consolation of knowing that the heathen 
 converts he left behind him at Cephron continued stedfast, immoveable, 
 abounding in the work of the Lord, through the influence of some of his 
 pious flock of Alexandria, who were sent thither into exile. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY VALERIAN. 247 
 
 hold, now or formerly professing themselves Christians, 
 shall be held as thenceforth the personal property of 
 the emperor, and be despatched in fetters to labour 
 in the mines, or any other of the public works which 
 the emperor is carrying on."* 8uch Avere the new 
 penalties which the authorities of Eome annexed to 
 the profession of Christianity. While they maintained 
 an appearance of clemency, and a reluctance to pro- 
 ceed to extreme severities, they discovered a fixed 
 determination to aim a deadly blow at the bishops, 
 and to put a stop to the progress of the Gospel among 
 the higher orders. Valerian himself, probably, must 
 be exculpated from having any active hand in carrying 
 his edict into execution, as he was about this time 
 busily engaged in preparations for a foreign war. But 
 there was no want of persons in authority who had all 
 the inclination to bring it into immediate execution ; 
 and accordingly, there was scarcely a department of 
 the empire where the arrival of the imperial procla- 
 mation Avas not instantaneously followed by the out- 
 break of cruelties. Rome took the lead ; and as the 
 early patronage of the emperor had brought most 
 Christians of rank into public view, so that there was 
 little difficulty in finding them, the magistrates of that 
 city distinguished themselves by their forward zeal, in 
 summoning the bishop, and all of respectable condition, • 
 known or suspected to be believers, to give an account 
 of their religion, and to signify their willingness to 
 sacrifice to the gods. As usual, confiscation, banish- 
 ment, and death, became the order of the day. Men 
 and women of the first rank in Roman society, — offi- 
 cers and private soldiers, — accomplished citizens and 
 simple country people, — persons of fortune and the 
 meanest slaves, — old people and children, — were, some 
 of them, exposed to every indignity, others scourged, 
 beheaded, or consumed in the flames. Many of the 
 Christians were apprehended in the cemeteries, which 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 82. 
 
248 TRIALS. 
 
 they had at this time learned to regard as sanctuaries, 
 as well as places of worship. In one of these Sextus, 
 Bishop of Rome, suffered martyrdom, and four of his 
 deacons shared the fate of their minister.* The ex- 
 ample of the magistrates in the capital Avas zealously 
 followed hy those in remoter parts of the empire ; and 
 many of the hishops, who, by the conciHatory policy 
 of new governors, were flattered with the hope of an 
 early recall from their banishment, were not only dis- 
 appointed, hut by this hist edict of the emperor, found 
 themselves unexpectedly involved in greater dangers. 
 The case of Cyprian, the most eminent martyr in this 
 persecution, may be quoted as an example. He had 
 removed from his exile at Curul^is to a country-house 
 of his own in the near neighbourhood of Carthage, 
 where, however, he was still obliged to keep himself 
 secluded from his flock. The violent proceedings at 
 Rome, and the death of Sextus, the mild and pacific 
 bishop of that city, were regarded as the shadows of 
 coming events to himself. To all the earnest and 
 importunate entreaties of his friends and flock to con- 
 sult his safety by flight, he lent a deaf ear,' although, 
 when he was suminoned to appear before the pro- 
 consul at Utica, he did conceal himself for fear of his 
 being called to suffer at a distance from the beloved 
 • seat of his ministry. On the arrival of Galerius at 
 Carthage, he cheerfully surrendered himself; and so 
 great was the interest taken in the fate of Cj'prian, 
 that although the Christians were to a man proscribed, 
 hundreds crowded round the tribunal of the governor, 
 forgetting all personal dangers in anxiety about their 
 excellent pastor. The trial did not last long ; for no 
 sooner had the bishop confessed himself a Christian, 
 than he sealed his testimony with his blood. The death 
 of C_yprian, it was expected, would dispirit the Chris- 
 tians, and lead to the total suppression of their religion 
 throughout all Africa. But that disastrous event pro- 
 
 * Kortholt de Persecutione, chap. ix. 20. 
 
ACCESSION OF DIOCLETIAN. 249 
 
 duced the very contrary effect. It roused multitudes, 
 whom that devoted minister had bcfrottcn in the faith, 
 to aspire to the same crown of martyrdom, and thus 
 became a signal for the general effusion of Christian 
 blood, both in that province and in other parts of the 
 empire.* 
 
 This gloomy time of trial over, the Christians en- 
 joyed a respite for forty years, during \vhich a great 
 change took place in the external circumstances and 
 aspect of the Church. The Gospel continued daily to 
 gain immense accessions of friends to her cause. In- 
 stead of being the religion of a few, it became the 
 faith of the many, — instead of being a small and in- 
 considerable sect, the believers Avere a numerous and 
 influential body, — the cross of their master, no longer 
 dreaded as a mark of infamy, was considered the badge 
 of a respectable profession, — the Church was recog- 
 nised as a public association, possessing rights and 
 property in the State, — their assemblies, instead of 
 being clandestine meetings in sul)terranean cemeteries 
 or obscure hovels, were held in edifices conspicuous 
 for architectural grandeur ; and those who frequented 
 them were no longer confined to the dregs of society, 
 or to men of humble origin, mean ideas, and mecha- 
 nical labour ; but persons who moved in the highest 
 circles, and commanded respect by their learning and 
 their wealth, gloried in the name of Christians. In 
 this happy intervfd of toleration, multitudes, no doubt, 
 joined the Church, who brought over with them some 
 of the heathenish customs to which they had been 
 bred, and combined with the profession of Chris- 
 tianity pride, discord, sensuality, — a spirit but little 
 removed, in many respects, from that of their former 
 associates in idolatry. Nevertheless, vital religion 
 did flourish to a great extent, and exhibit the fruits 
 of righteousness in the lives of many, whose exalted 
 rank and official stations made them shine as lights of 
 
 * Cave's Lives. 
 
250 TRIALS. 
 
 # 
 
 the world ; and, as in the palace of Nero, the first 
 persecutor of the Christians, there were some who 
 were not ashamed of the Cross of Christ, so in the 
 times of Diocletian, their last imperial enemy, not a 
 few were appointed to the magistracy, and allowed to 
 hold offices of the highest importance in the govern- 
 ment, — some were even introduced into the imperial 
 household, and held stations of honour and trust about 
 the royal person. The librarian of the palace, the 
 emperor's waiting-man,* and some gentlemen of the 
 bed-chamber, were sincere friends of Christianity ; and 
 though Diocletian himself was a bigoted heathen, 
 yet, whether through the personal influence of his at- 
 tendants, or fear of offending the vast number of his 
 subjects Avho were Christians, — whether the voice of 
 humanit}'^, or the dictates of a timid policy, swayed 
 him, he showed no disposition, when left to himself, 
 to molest the adherents of the Christian faith. 
 
 The heathens — both priests, philosophers, and poli- 
 ticians — beheld this state of things with increasing 
 alarm. The silent rapidity with which Christianity 
 was making its way among all classes, did not escape 
 their jealous vigilance ; and the painful conviction 
 was forced upon them, that unless the most vigorous 
 efforts were made to check its progress, it would ere 
 long acquire the ascendancy, and become the estab- 
 lished religion of the world. In these circumstances, 
 the heads of the pagan party had long been concerting 
 measures for striking a blow, which, as it would be 
 the last, they determined should be a decisive and 
 memorable one ; and they only delayed till they had 
 so worked upon the timid and superstitious mind of 
 Diocletian, as to secure his zealous co-operation. 
 
 * The Christians about the court were recommended to take the utmost 
 precaution not to offend the heathen emperor. The librarian was to take 
 good care not to show any contempt for worldly knowledge and the old 
 authors ;, he was to be familiar as a heathen with the poets, philosophers, 
 orators, and historians of antiquity ; but then he was sometimes to take an 
 opportunity of praising the Scriptures, to mention Christ, and by degrees 
 to hint that he is the only true God. — Galland Bibliotheca Patruin, quoted 
 by Neand., vol. i. p. 145. 
 
STORY OF MARCELLUS. 251 
 
 Many opportunities they sought to gain him over. 
 On one occasion, in particular, Avhen he was offering 
 sacrifices to ascertain the fortune of a war, and some 
 Christian officers, who were officially present, fortified 
 their faith by the customary sign of the cross, he was 
 surprised and mortified to find that no omens could 
 be obtained. A second experiment was made, with 
 no better success. Fresh victims were ordered, and 
 still the soothsayers fruitlessly renewed their inspec- 
 tion, — till at length the artful priests, who had formed 
 their plan, ventured to tell the disappointed and de- 
 sponding emperor, that the cause of the unpropitious 
 result was owing to the presence of persons who were 
 enemies to the gods. The stratagem was successful ; 
 for Diocletian, under the impulse of ungovernable 
 fury, commanded, like another Nebuchadnezzar, that 
 all should bow to the gods of the empire, — that all the 
 inmates of the palace should join in sacrifice, under 
 the penalty of being scourged, — and that all the sol- 
 diers Avho refused this religious observance should be 
 degraded and dismissed.* Thus far the plot against 
 the Christians succeeded. But the emperor, though 
 he allowed this tyrannical mandate to remain in force, 
 could not be prevailed upon, by the most importunate 
 entreaties, to authorise any severer measures ; and the 
 conspirators, defeated in this quarter, looked anxiously 
 to another, in the hope of finding a less scrupulous 
 and a more determined accomplice in Galerius, Dio- 
 cletian's son-in-law, then commander-in-chief of the 
 army.t This ferocious bigot was easily induced, both 
 by his religious and political prejudices, to enforce 
 with the sternest rigour the emperor's order for every 
 soldier to sacrifice ; and accordingly, an approaching 
 festival, in the year 298, in honour of Diocletian's 
 
 * Lactantius — Death of the Persecutors, chap. x. 
 
 t One of the first acts of Diocletian was to give the title and power of 
 emperor to Maximianus Herculeus, and soon after to Galerius and Con- 
 stantius. A partition of the empire was accordingly made, and the four 
 colleagues ruled over their respective provinces. 
 
252 TRIALS. 
 
 colleague in the throne, — a season solemnized with 
 all the pomp and circumstance of the paoan ritual, — 
 was fixed upon as a fit occasion for makin[y the obli- 
 gation to sacrifice imperative on every individual in 
 the army. Few atoned by their death for refusing 
 compliance, as the emperor had given the Christian 
 soldiers the alternative of leaving the service. But 
 great numbers, both officers and privates, quitted their 
 ranks ; and in doing so, it is not improbable that some, 
 by their language or their manner, gave vent to their 
 indignant feelings with an indiscretion that was eagerly 
 made a pretext by their enemies for punishing them, 
 on the charge of insubordination and mutiny. One 
 memorable instance of such fervid and irrepressible 
 zeal, was furnished by a young officer of the name 
 of Marcellus. The moment that he understood the 
 general orders to sacrifice, he sprang from the table 
 where he sat at mess, and casting away with violence 
 his belt and arms, exclaimed — •■' Henceforth T cannot 
 serve the emperor as a soldier: I despise your gods 
 of wood and stone, deaf and dumb images. If a sol- 
 diers profession cannot be followed without sacrificing 
 to the gods and the emperor, I abandon the ranks, 
 and shall never bear arms" This bold language was 
 immediately declared to be treason, and without almost 
 a moment's delay, sentence of death was pronounced 
 upon the speaker. 
 
 But the pride of Galerius, offended at this dis- 
 obedience to his commands, — for a recent victory had 
 made him insufferably arrogant and imperious, — could 
 not be appeased by the death of one Christian soldier. 
 He aimed at nothing less than sacrificing the whole 
 race of Christians at tbe shrine of his savage ambition, 
 and while his devotion to the cause of idolatry had 
 predisposed him to enter with his utmost energy into 
 the dark designs of its partizans, he now, from reasons 
 personal to himself, assailed his old sick father-in-law, 
 by every mode of persuasion, to consent to a general 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DIOCLETIAN. 253 
 
 persecution of the obnoxious sect. Bent on this san- 
 guinary project, he determined to winter in Bithynia 
 with Diocletian, who now confined liimself to Nico- 
 media, — and, by engaging the weak and capricious 
 emperor in ahnost daily conferences on the subject he 
 had nearest at heart, — by sometimes flattering his 
 foolish fiincy of making his favourite city rival the 
 splendour of Rome, — at other times, exciting his fear 
 by the boldness of his military plans, he wrung from 
 him a reluctant permission to unsheathe the sword.* 
 Several contemporary occurrences lent weight to the 
 counsels of Galerius. The empire rang with the in- 
 sane doctrines of the JMaiiichees and other heretics, 
 who were either ignorantly or on purpose confounded 
 with the Christians. Romula, the mother of Galerius, 
 furnished arguments of another kind. That gay 
 woman, who Avas a passionate admirer of the pagan 
 rites, enlivened the dulness of the wintry season, by 
 giving a series of splendid banquets in her palace, at 
 which a selection of her favourite ceremonies, with 
 appropriate music, formed an invariable part of the 
 amusements of the evening. The elite of Nicomedia 
 crowded her elegant saloons, — and both town and 
 country resounded with praises of the princely hospi- 
 talities of Romula. Some Christians of rank, how- 
 ever, from a dislike of the idolatrous part of the 
 entertainment, on which she chiefly prided herself, 
 having declined her invitation, the ofiended woman 
 vowed that nothing but their blood could expiate the 
 public insult they had oflfered to her character, and 
 from that moment, came as a powerful auxiliary to 
 reinforce the appeals of her son.| To the joint repre- 
 
 * Diocletian had an extraordinary passion for building, but was so 
 capricious in his taste, that what he reared to-day he often pulled down 
 to-Morrow. He was wholly occupied in such follies. He was extremely 
 avaricious, and so was his colleague Maximian, who, besides, was a mon- 
 ster of debauchery. He scrupled at nothing to amass treasures. When- 
 ever he needed money, he engaged false witnesses to accuse the richest 
 senators, whose property was forthwith confiscated. — Lactantius, Death 
 of Persecutors, ch. viii. 
 
 t Lactantius, ch. xi. 
 
 R 
 
254 TRIALS. 
 
 sentations of both, Diocletian, who was invariably 
 averse to the shedding of blood, pleaded reasons of 
 State, and strongly objected the inexpediency of weak- 
 ening his throne by the slaughter of so immense a 
 body of his subjects. But at the next interview, some 
 officers high in command, having been introduced 
 through the means of Galerius, artfully dwelt on the 
 sad decline of the national worship ; and on the old 
 Roman principle, that the fate of the empire was now 
 suspended on its immediate restoration, the facile 
 mind of the emperor could no longer withstand these 
 repeated assaults, and in an evil hour he put his name 
 to an edict, already prepared for his signature, which 
 ordained that the assemblies of Christians were thence- 
 forth illegal, that their churches should be demolished, 
 and that the Scriptures should be burnt. This sweep- 
 ing act of proscription was proclaimed at a great hea- 
 then festival, on 23d February 303, — and the very 
 next morning the citizens of Nicomedia received a 
 memorable proof that it was not intended to lie a dead 
 letter. At dawn, a detachment of military was sta- 
 tioned round the church of that town, conspicuous by 
 its site on an eminence, and on a signal from the 
 palace, which was almost contiguous, a hundred arms 
 were applied to batter down the walls, — a few copies 
 of the sacred volume belonging to it were burnt, — and 
 in a few hours the beautiful edifice was a heap of 
 ruins.* Another edict appeared on the following day, 
 commanding all Christians in office to abjure their 
 religion, or instantly resign, and that those in humble 
 life should be degraded to the condition of slaves. The 
 first victim of this second edict was a Christian of rank, 
 who, impelled with honest indignation at the tyranny, 
 and forgetting, in the heat of his zeal, the Christian 
 submission due to the royal authority, snatched the 
 
 * Lactantius says that Diocletian and Galerius stood on a watch-tower 
 long disputing wliether it should be set on fire. The opinion of the 
 former, who was afraid for the safety of the adjoining buildings, was at 
 length adopted. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DIOCLETIAN. 255 
 
 proclamation from the wall, and, tearing it in a thou- 
 sand pieces, threw it away, Avith some contemptuous 
 exclamations.* He was seized by some pagan by- 
 standers, tried for the crime of treason, and imme- 
 diately executed, t Two successive fires having 
 accidentally broken out in the palace, and being re- 
 presented to Diocletian as the work of Christian 
 incendiaries, his resentment was inflamed to such a 
 degree that he resolved, to the malignant joy of his 
 pagan counsellors, to become the executioner of his 
 own edict. He summoned some Christian domestics 
 to his presence, and caused them to be put to torture ; 
 others, who had been formerly favourite attendants on 
 his person, he commanded to sacrifice, and on their 
 refusal put them to instant death. X In a few hours 
 he left not a single Christian in his household but his 
 wife Prisca, and her daughter by a former husband. 
 But although he witnessed the last moments of almost 
 all those Christians who had grown gray in his ser- 
 vice, he could not extort one single word which could 
 fasten on any one of them the crime of causing the 
 conflagration. 
 
 Meanwhile, the advisers of the bloody edicts were 
 busy A^-ith the work of destruction. Copies of them 
 having been despatched to all the provinces, every 
 place in the empire exhibited the appearance of de- 
 vastation and bloodshed. Every where churches were 
 levelled with the ground, — Christian pastors were 
 beheaded, — and such vast numbers, who refused to 
 sacrifice, were reserved for various punishments, that 
 multitudes of houses had to be converted into prisons 
 for their reception. Nicomedia, of course, being within 
 
 * Euseb. %'iii. 
 
 t Lactantius accuses Galerius of having employed emissaries to set the 
 palace on fire ; but there seems, from the silence of Eusebius, who was a 
 cotemporary of these events, to be no good foundation for the charge. 
 
 J Tv/o of his servants he hanged— a third, Peter, an old favourite, was 
 broiled on a gridiron. — Ejtseb. vol. viii. 6. Lactantius says they were not 
 executed one after another, but a whole herd of them were put on the 
 same fire ; and servants, with a millstone tied round their necks, were 
 cast into the sea.— Ch. xv. 
 
256 TRIALS. 
 
 the immediate reacli of the emperor and Galerius, 
 had its full share of bloody tragedies. Anthimus, 
 the pious minister of the place, was the first to receive 
 the crown of martyrdom. The deacons, deaconesses, 
 — all who either held office in the Church, or were of 
 note in Christian society, were burned or drowned. 
 Christians, of every age, sex, and condition, would 
 probably have shared the same fate, had not political 
 circumstances broken up the imperial establishment 
 in that place, summoned Diocletian to Rome, and 
 Galerius to Antioch, The former entered the capital 
 about the twentieth anniversary of his reign ; and 
 that anniversary being celebrated Avith more than or- 
 dinary splendour of religious observances, proved fatal 
 to Christians of every degree. Numbers were given 
 up at the public shows, for the gratification of the 
 people. Marcellinus, his whole presbyters and dea- 
 cons, suffered a most lingering and ignominious death. 
 Antioch witnessed still greater and more memorable 
 scenes of Christian carnage than the capital. The 
 barbarous Galerius was there ; and, left without the 
 presence of Diocletian to check him, he gave the reins 
 to his inhuman anxiety for the slaughter of the 
 Christian race. Every one brought before him as a 
 Christian was indiscriminately massacred; the mere 
 mention of the name Christian was at once his accu- 
 sation, trial, and condemnation. But it was, as usual, 
 on the clergy that his vengeance principally fell ; and 
 the extreme lengths to which he carried matters, with 
 the most eminent believers of Antioch, may be judged 
 of by the homd barbarities he perpetrated on a deacon 
 of the name of Romanus. Having selected this pious 
 man for more than common severity of punishment, 
 he ordered him first to be half burnt, and then to have 
 his tongue cut out, wath which he was frequently 
 calling upon the blessed Jesus. This latter part of 
 the sentence Galerius executed wdth his own hands, 
 and then remanded the poor mangled Christian to his 
 
-/ 
 PERSECUTIONS BY DIOCLETIAN. 2.57 
 
 cell, where, after he had lingered a few hours, he was 
 strangled. * In every other city of Palestine, the edicts 
 were published by the authority of the tyrant, ordering ^ 
 all persons to join in the sacrifices, and commanding 
 magistrates every where to use all diligence to enforce 
 universal obedience. Heralds were sent through the 
 streets to summon all men to repair with their families 
 to the temples ; every one's name was read out by the 
 tribunes, and the causes of absence from the sacrifices 
 were strictly inquired into, t Judges were stationed 
 in all the temples, so that condign punishment was 
 inflicted on all who hesitated to ofi^er incense ; and 
 lest, by any unforeseen accident, a Christian should 
 escape the required token of compliance with the 
 established religion of the empire, altars were placed 
 beside the tribunals of justice, that every individual 
 who appeared in court might present an oblation be- 
 fore his cause could be heard. ^ In Egypt, Africa, 
 Asia ]\Iinor, Greece, and Italy, the same scenes of 
 barbarity were perpetrated, the same tremendous trials 
 awaited the Christians. " All the earth," says Lac- 
 tantius, " was afflicted, and from east to west, three 
 ravenous wild beasts continued to rage. 
 
 " Had I hundred mouths, a hundred tongues, 
 A voice of brass, and adamantine lungs, 
 Not half the dreadful scene could 1 disclose, 
 
 or recount the punishments inflicted by rulers and 
 officers in every province, on religious and innocent 
 men." § 
 
 One peculiar feature of this persecution merits 
 notice — the destruction of the Scriptures. Formerly 
 the heathens had directed their vengeance exclusively 
 against the lives of Christians, flattering themselves, 
 that by the removal of the living friends of the Gos- 
 pel, the cause itself Avould receive its death-blow. 
 
 * Martyrs of Palestine, ch. ii. t Ibid., ch. iv. 
 
 1 Lactantius, ch. xv, § Ibid., ch. xtI. 
 
258 TRIALS. 
 
 The experience of two centuries having made them 
 better acquainted with the habits of the new sect, 
 taught them, that so long as the Bible existed, the 
 seed of the Word would raise a new succession of 
 believers to increase and perpetuate the worship of 
 Christ in the following age, and that nothing pro- 
 mised to eifect the complete and universal suppres- 
 sion of Christianity, but the destruction of the Sacred 
 Volume. In the blind and impetuous prosecution of 
 these views, they not only issued the most positive 
 orders for the delivery of all copies of the Scriptures 
 belonging to churches, but employed inquisitors to 
 search the houses of all known or suspected Christians 
 for the prohibited book. The execution of these 
 orders gave rise to some most interesting traits of 
 attachment to the truth. The bishop of Carthage, 
 the moment the edict for the burning of the Sacred 
 Volume was known in that city, repaired privately to 
 his church, withdrew all the copies of the Scriptures 
 thence to his own house, and left in their room the 
 writings of some contemptible heretics. The inquisi- 
 tors, whether from indifference or ignorance, seized 
 these as their prey and carried them off. In this case 
 it is probable the governor was not very strict ; at all 
 events, as no questions were asked, the bishop cannot 
 be charged with any breach of Christian propriety. 
 On the refusal of another African minister to part 
 with the Scriptures, the humane inquisitors insisted 
 on his delivering to them his superfluous writings, 
 evidently wishing, by the manner in which they made 
 their demand, to afford him a Avay of escape. But 
 all governors were not equally lax, and all Christians 
 did not so easily retain the precious treasure of their 
 divine books. At this time, when a copy of the Scrip- 
 tures was valued above jewels, and Christians were 
 afraid to hazard the loss of so precious a treasure by 
 the open and indiscriminate display of their possession, 
 it became a very general practice to conceal the Sacred 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DIOCLETIAN. 259 
 
 Volume in some secret place, — in some useless and 
 neglected chest, that would excite no suspicion, — 
 Avithin a covered hole in the walls of their chambers, 
 — beneath the hearth, or in a corner of their gardens. 
 One copy was reserved for the use of a neighbourhood, 
 and the Christians of the place met in the house of a 
 common friend, who read aloud to the company the 
 words of eternal life. These clandestine meetings, 
 however, like all the other movements of the Chris- 
 tians, transpired through the vigilance of spies and 
 informers. By their instigation, sentinels were se- 
 cretly placed within a short distance of the place of 
 rendezvous, to mark the persons who frequented the 
 forbidden haunt, and while the pious circle were drawn 
 around in mute and devout attention to the lessons of 
 heavenly wisdom and comfort, rude bands of soldiers 
 would rush upon them, snatch the proscribed volume 
 from the hands of the reader, and drag him and his 
 unresisting companions to pay with their heads the 
 penalty of their stolen enjoyment. In a country town 
 of Numidia, where a company of this description were 
 assembled, the reader had not proceeded far in his 
 much valued office, when their seclusion was disturbed 
 by the appearance of a military party, who, each seiz- 
 ing his man, led the whole group to the tribunal of 
 the proconsul. Undaunted by the painful situation 
 in which they found themselves, the prisoners cheered 
 themselves by the way with singing the songs of Zion ; 
 and amid the profane mirth, or the blasphemous threat- 
 enings of their guard, encouraged each other " not to 
 be cast down, or disquieted within them ; but to trust 
 in God, who would yet be the health of their coun- 
 tenance and their joy." Arrived in the presence of 
 the governor, the burden of undergoing examination 
 fell on the reader. " Why did you harbour these ? " 
 was the first interrogation of the proconsul. " I could 
 not decline to receive my brethren," was the calm 
 reply. " The imperial edict," it was again insisted, 
 
260 TRIALS. 
 
 ought to have outweighed these considerations — 
 " Have you the Holy Scriptures ? " " Yes," was the 
 answer of the martyr ; " but I have them in my 
 heart."* Similar was the fortitude of Felix, the 
 African believer. Being asked, whether he had the 
 Scriptures, he acknowledged he had. But to the de- 
 mand for their delivery to the hands of the proconsul, 
 he resolutely replied, that he would not part with them 
 but with his life. On another occasion, a company 
 of about fifty persons, who were apprehended, were, 
 in consequence of their refusal to surrender their 
 Bibles, subjected to the utmost severity of treatment. 
 " Why do you keep the Scriptures, when they are 
 forbidden by the emperor ?" " Because," they una- 
 nimously exclaimed, " they contain the words of 
 eternal life."t These anecdotes, of which many equally 
 interesting occur in the records of Christian antiquity, 
 exhibit the Christians of that time in a most admirable 
 light. Doubtless, there were multitudes who, valuing 
 the Word of God as better than thousands of gold 
 and silver, took every wise and prudent precaution 
 to preserve it, and when nothing else could avail, 
 w^ere prepared to sacrifice life itself, sooner than part 
 with the inestimable treasure ; but there w^ere others, 
 whose conduct was more than questionable, and whose 
 memory cannot be honoured with the same high com- 
 mendation. Some, in their indiscreet and intem- 
 perate zeal, voluntarily ran into the presence of the 
 heathen governors, exclaiming that they were possessed 
 of the Scriptures, but that no menaces, and no tortures, 
 could induce them to disclose the place where the re- 
 vered Word was hid. Others, again, appalled at the 
 prospect of pain and martyrdom, delivered up their 
 Bibles, and saw them publicly burnt in the market- 
 place. Of these lukewarm or cowardly Christians the 
 numbers were, unhappily, far from being small ; and 
 no event, not even the fiercest rage of pej^ecution, 
 
 * Neander, i. p. 156. t Fleury, Hist. Eccles. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY DIOCLETIAN GALERIUS. 261 
 
 coii^oilsed the Church more sorely, or left behind it 
 more lamentable effects than this. 
 
 The persecution had continued two years, during 
 which the most dreadful and wide -spread ravages had 
 been committed on the Church, when a memorable 
 change occurred in the politics of the empire. This was 
 the abdication, in 305, of Diocletian, followed almost 
 at the same time, through the intrigues of Galerius, by 
 that of Maximian Herculeus ; and as a new division 
 of the government necessarily took place between 
 the reigning emperors, Italy, Gaul, Spain, and Africa, 
 were allotted to Constantius,* while Galerius became 
 sole and irresponsible ruler over Illyrin, Greece, Egypt, 
 and the Eastern world. The humane character of 
 Constantius secured, in a great measure, the tranquil- 
 lity of the Christians within his dominions ; but 
 Galerius prosecuted, in the provinces that fell to his 
 share, the same cruel and arbitrary policy as before 
 the resignation of his father-in-law, and the better to 
 farther his hostile designs against Christianity, he had 
 address and influence over his peaceful colleague to 
 give the powers and title of C^sar to two of his crea- 
 tures — Severus, and Maximin, his ne[)hew, — men of 
 stern, rough characters, and prepared to second him in 
 any measures, however tyrannical or inhuman. Their 
 elevation was the signal for reviving the flagging spirit 
 of persecution ; and Maximin, in particular, whose 
 unlettered mind made him a bigoted slave to the 
 Avildest superstition, authorised the most horrid ex- 
 cesses in Syria, Egypt, and the adjoining territories 
 that were placed under his command. An imperial 
 edict was issued, commandmg the inhabitants of all 
 
 * Constantius, who had formerly been styled Csesar, was now elevated 
 to the higher dignity of Augustus. He had been obliged, to satisfy his 
 colleague, and in oppositinn to his own humar.e wishes, to demolish some 
 Christian churches, although, so far as was practicable in the excited state 
 of heathen society, he was sparing of lives. The countries, however, un- 
 der his government, never exhibited the scenes of cruelty and persecution 
 which were then witnessed in the provinces of his colleagues ; and the 
 more exalted title and power he now acquired, enabled him more effec- 
 tually to protect the Christians. 
 
262 TRIALS. 
 
 the towns under tis jurisdiction to repair to a public 
 place to sacrifice ; and in Cesarea the first execution 
 of the edict was signalized by a circumstance which 
 was eagerly laid hold of, as furnishing a pretext for 
 pushing matters to the last extremities. At the 
 moment that Urbanus, the magistrate of the city, was 
 about to commence the ceremony by an act of liba- 
 tion, a young man, of the name of Apphian, of good 
 family and liberal accomplishments, who had relin- 
 quished the most brilHant prospects for his attach- 
 ment to the Gospel, ran forward from the midst of 
 the crowd, and, seizing the arm of the governor, spoke 
 in terms of vehement condemnation of the idolatrous 
 rite ; and urged his excellency, at the same time, to 
 embrace the worship of the true God. As might 
 have been expected, so flagrant an act of insubordina- 
 tion could not be overlooked, — Apphian was imme- 
 diately put to the torture, to force him to sacrifice ; 
 and, when no severity of suffering could shake his 
 resolution, he was condemned to pay the penalty of 
 his too forward zeal, by a painful death.* The 
 obstinate disobedience of this young man to the im- 
 perial edict, led to the rigid examination, and, by 
 necessary consequence, to the torture and death of 
 multitudes of Christians in Cesarea, "when Maximin 
 was celebrating some public shows in that city, in 
 honour of his birth-day. Among other spectacles he 
 exhibited in the amphitheatre, was that of a Christian, 
 Agapius, in combat with a bear. That individual, 
 who was eminent for his piety and various accom- 
 plishments, was condemned, because he would not 
 renounce Christianitv, to fio^ht with wild beasts, for 
 the gratification of a heathen mob ; and, after he had 
 been dreadfully mangled, the half dead man M'as car- 
 ried back to his cell, where he lingered for a day, and 
 
 * His body was afterwards cast into the sea ; and the inhabitants of 
 Cesarea remarked it, jis an extraordinary occurrence, that, in consequence 
 of furious gusts of wind, the corpse was driven back, and fixed about the 
 gates of the city. — Martyrs of Palestine, ch. iv. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY MAXIMIN GALERIUS. 268 
 
 was afterwards sunk with weights in the sea.* A 
 young woman of eighteen was executed for the crime 
 of paying some humane attentions to a few Christian 
 prisoners, who were on their way to the mines ; three 
 Christians were sentenced to fight with each other ; 
 one venerahle behever of fourscore was condemned 
 to a battle with the wild beasts ; and an innumerable 
 multitude of others suffered punishments of various 
 kinds, and different degrees of severity, by Urbanus, 
 whose natural ferocity made him a willing tool of the 
 inhuman monster, Maximin. 
 
 A brief pause ensued, the executioners being weary 
 with the work of violence, after which some fresh 
 edicts of J\Iaximin revived the persecution, under cir- 
 cumstances of new, and, if possible, greater atrocity 
 than ever. To inflame the minds of his pagan sub- 
 jects to the same degree of enmity with himself, he 
 caused some fictitious memoirs of Pilate, full of the 
 most indescribable blasphemies against Christ, to be 
 published, and circulated in all the towns and cities 
 of the empire ; and he bribed the schoolmasters of the 
 more distinguished seminaries to prescribe these as 
 lessons to be fixed in the memory, and as themes of 
 declamation for the essays of the heathen boys. They 
 W'cre engraved on tablets of brass on the public walls, 
 so that the common people and children found no 
 topic of conversation so common as that of the absurd 
 pretensions and impieties of Jesus, — and the imputed 
 acts of Pilate in crushing the impostor. Incorporated 
 with these forged acts, which were posted on the 
 public walls of every city, w^re the depositions of 
 some infamous women, whom a military officer in 
 Damascus had compelled, by torture, to confess that 
 they had been Christians, and that, within assemblies 
 of Christians, the most unnatural and revolting prac- 
 tices were observed, sufficient to call down the ven- 
 geance of the gods on every place where the impious 
 
 * Martyrs of Palestine, ch. vi. 
 
2G4 TRIALS. 
 
 race were harboured.* By such inflammatory pro- 
 clamations, the universal indij^nation of the populace 
 was roused, and the artful Maximin found them every 
 where willing executioners of his tyrannical edicts. 
 At the same time, the temples shone with unwonted 
 splendour ; cattle were poured, in immense flocks, into 
 the cities, to supply the extraordinary demands of the 
 occasion. At an apj)ointed season, all the inhabitants 
 were commanded to sacrifice, to purchase perfumed 
 goods in the market, and to observe certain idolatrous 
 customs at the entry of the public baths. The terror 
 of these despotic injunctions drove multitudes from 
 their homes to the solitude of mountains and deserts ; 
 where, although they had no society but that of rude 
 barbarians, they enjoyed the valuable privilege of 
 toleration in worship. Among the most eminent of 
 these exiles was the grandfather of Basil, who took 
 refuge in the woody mountains of Pontus, where he 
 lay concealed for seven years, a prey to all the hard- 
 ships of a barren and ungenial place, t But numbers, 
 who were either so unfortunate as not to escape in 
 time, or who deemed it unlawful to seek safety in 
 flight, remained- behind, to afford ample employment 
 for the agents of Galerius and Maximin. No where 
 was the war against Christians more violent and 
 deadly than in Alexandria. It is estimated that the 
 number of victims varied from ten to a hundred daily ; 
 and not only Peter, the bishop, and his assistants in 
 the ministry, but all who were eminent for rank, 
 influence, or piety, were marked in the lists of the 
 proscribed, — their names, residence, and personal de- 
 scription, were furnished to the police, who kept so 
 strict a watch, that few Alexandrian Christians long 
 escaped the Argus-eyed myrmidons of the government, 
 but were drasfo-ed to trial and the stake. Where 
 so many Christians of note were involved in the 
 same sad fate, it is unnecessary to specify particular 
 
 * Euseb. Hist. Eccles., ch. iv. f Cave's Lives— Basil. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY MAXIMIN — GALERIUS. 26^ 
 
 cases,* but we cannot help noticing the martyrdom 
 of Phileas, the bishop, who, along with Philoromus, 
 a person who had once occupied a judicial station 
 of eminence in Alexandria, was condemned to suffer. 
 The respectable rank and families of both these indi- 
 viduals, induced the governor to resort to an unusual 
 expedient, in the hope of saving them. Finding all 
 his persuasions unavailing to lead them to renounce 
 Christianity, he unexpectedly introduced, first, their 
 friends, and then their wives and children, whose 
 presence, he good-naturedly imagined, would make an 
 irresistible appeal to natural affection, and prove an 
 argument superior to the most eloquent reasoning. 
 The prisoners, however, were proof against the trying 
 assault, and died immediately after, sincere and en- 
 lightened martyrs to the religion of Christ. t But 
 Providence ere long interposed to terminate those 
 scenes of cruelty. A lingering, loathsome, and hopeless 
 disease, had so softened the savage temper of Galerius, 
 that in the year 311, he published an edict, allowing 
 the Christians the free exercise of their religion, and 
 the liberty of building places of worship, and request- 
 ing their special prayers for the recovery of his health. 
 This edict he despatched to all governors of provinces, 
 to put an immediate stop to the farther effusion of blood. 
 But Maximin, more brutally fierce than even his inhu- 
 man uncle, Galerius, suppressed the proclamation, and 
 contentinof himself with a verbal communication of its 
 contents to those within his reach, — breathed nothing 
 " but threats and slaughter." " His voice was still 
 for war," — and the object nearest to his heart was, 
 how he might most effectually defeat the relenting 
 edict of Galerius. X By means of mercenaries, whom 
 
 * Among the most distinguished of the martyrs of Palestine, was Pam- 
 philus, the bosom friend of Eusebius, and a most excellent man. 
 
 t Burton, vol. ii. p. 442. 
 
 J The effect of this edict of Galerius was astonishing. "In a moment," 
 says Burton, " all was joy, wonder, and thanksgiving, where before there 
 had been suffering and sorrow." Places of worship were immediately 
 
266 TRIALS. 
 
 }ie sent into all the towns to agitate the people, he 
 got up petitions, addressed to himself, in name of the 
 citizens, praying him to re-establish the ancient reli- 
 gion, and suppress Christianity. From many of the 
 most populous and influential cities of the empire, 
 Nicomedia, Antioch, and Tyre, he procured such ad- 
 dresses ; and in order that this fact might be univer- 
 sally known and believed, he caused these addresses, 
 mth his gracious answer to his loyal subjects, to be 
 engraven on brazen tablets, and affixed to the walls 
 of the cities. All the cruelties enacted in the time 
 of Galerius were perpetrated anew, — and the impla- 
 cable tyrant would have probably protracted the sea- 
 son of trials, had he not been alarmed by the angry 
 letters of his colleague Constantine, and by the report 
 of an intended alliance being formed between that 
 emperor's sister and his rival, Licinius. In conse- 
 quence of this annoying intelligence, his career of 
 bloodshed was for a while suspended ; and he carried 
 his dissimulation so far as to pay attention to some of 
 the more eminent Christians, and invite them to share 
 the hospitalities of the imperial table. But even then 
 he secretly insulted them, by causing all the dishes 
 to pass previously through the hands of priests ; and 
 he never felt in his element till he had once more 
 erected the stake and the cross, and feasted his eyes 
 with the spectacle of martyred Christians. The last 
 year of the persecution surpassed in severity the for- 
 mer nine ; and while the histories of this period re- 
 late many painful instances of individuals suffering, — 
 the horrid excesses to which the tyrant wejit, may be 
 judged of by the circumstance of his ordering a whole 
 toAvn of Phrygia, which, with its magistrates and 
 people, had declared itself Christian, to be burnt to 
 the ground. And on the eve of the memorable battle 
 
 opened in the towns, and attended by crowds. The roads were filled 
 with persons returnhig to their homes, and even the heathen were led to 
 think that God alone could have worked so sudden and blessed a change. 
 — Eccles. Hist., vol. ii. p. 464. 
 
PERSECUTIONS BY MAXIMIN. 267 
 
 between him and Licinius, he vowed to Jupiter, that 
 on condition of his being victorious, he would exter- 
 minate not similar towns only, but the whole race of 
 Christians. 
 
 This was the last and the severest of all the perse- 
 cutions, which were commenced or sanctioned by the 
 authority of the emperors. In the west of Europe, 
 indeed, owing to the milder character and paternal 
 government of Constantine, the Christians were not 
 much molested ; and certainly not beyond the first 
 two years after Diocletian published his first edict 
 against them. But the east, and all other parts of 
 the Roman world, were, during the protracted period 
 of ten years, the scenes of devastation and bloodshed, 
 unparalleled for atrocity in the annals of mankind. 
 Society was convulsed to its centre, and the demons 
 of idolatry seemed to grow more frantic as they saw 
 their dominion over the human mind progressively on 
 the decline. Many melancholy instances occurred 
 during this sanguinary period of the weakness and 
 imperfection of men — of zeal, blended with a portion 
 of worldly fire — of ambition to acquire notoriety, 
 and command admiration, and also of the cowardice 
 and selfishness of nature in renouncing what was be- 
 lieved to be the truth, for the sake of living in ease 
 and pleasure. But these are only a few exceptions 
 to the great and acknowledged excellencies of the 
 general body of the primitive Christians — dark spots, 
 unnoticed and overlooked, amid the bright lustre of 
 faith and hope that animated the ancient Church ; 
 and there can be no doubt, that one means appointed 
 by its Divine head for preserving its purity, was the 
 long series of trials to which she was subjected by the 
 emperors of Rome. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 NUMBER OF PERSECUTIONS UNCERTAIN — MARTYRDOM OF APPOLLONIVS, A 
 ROMAN SENATOR — TRIALS FROM OPPOSITION OF PHILOSOPHY— OF PRIESTS 
 — SYMPHOROSA—SYMPHORIANUS— POPULAR OUTRAGES— TRIALS FROM 
 RELATIVES AND FRIENDS — ANECDOTES. 
 
 It is an old and popular error to consider the trials of 
 the primitive Christians as comprised within the limits 
 of ten persecutions.* This number, if applied to those 
 vexatious and sanguinary aggressions that were com- 
 mitted by imperial authority on the adherents of the 
 Gospel in all parts of the Avorld at once, is probably 
 too great, since, even during the most tyrannical ad- 
 ministrations, and when persecution raged with fiercest 
 violence and to the widest extent, there Avere always 
 some places happily exempted from the general cala- 
 mity. Thus, for instance, the massacre of the Chris- 
 tians by Nero, the first persecutor, bloody and destruc- 
 tive as it was, was almost wholly confined to the city 
 and neighbourhood of Rome ; and in like manner, 
 
 * This idea was first broached in the end of the fourth century, and is 
 
 supposed to have been suggested by Kev. xvii. 12-14. The dates of these 
 
 persecutions, according to the most approved chronology, are as follows : — 
 
 Persecution in the reign of Nero, happened in the year after Christ 64 
 
 Domitian, . . y3 
 
 Trajan. .. " 104 
 
 Hadrian, . . )25 
 
 Aurelius, . . 152 
 
 Severus, . . 19fi 
 
 Maximin Thrac£, . . 235 
 
 Decius, , . 250 
 
 Valerian, . . 257 
 
 Diocletian, . . 303 
 
NUMBER OF PERSECUTIONS UNCERTAIN. 269 
 
 during the persecution of Diocletian, the last and most 
 dreadful of all that the Christians ever encountered, 
 that large portion of the empire in AVestern Europe 
 which owned the sway of Constantius Chlorus, knew 
 nothing, except by distant rumour, of the disastrous 
 condition of the believers in other quarters. That 
 humane prince, although he was not a Christian, con- 
 tinued to pursue a mild and conciliatory policy towards 
 his Christian subjects, long after the bloody edict of 
 his colleagues had been fulminated from the conclaves 
 of Nicomedia ; and when at length, through the angry 
 and menacing communications of Galerius and Maxi- 
 min, he was compelled to have recourse to measures 
 of severity, he contented himself with a slight ven- 
 geance on the walls of the churches, without unsheath- 
 ing the sword against the person of a single Christian. 
 Besides, during all the general persecutions described 
 in the foregoing chapters, there were many provincial 
 governors whose humanity recoiled from the violent 
 proceedings instituted against the Christians; or Avho, 
 having some knowledge of their peaceable and exem- 
 plary habits, not only sought pretexts for dismissing 
 them unscathed from the criminal courts, but extended 
 over them the shield of their protection and favour.* 
 If, again, this number is understood to comprehend 
 the whole trials of the followers of Christ durincf the 
 first three centuries, it falls very far short of the truth ; 
 for, from the reign of the infamous Nero till the time 
 of Constantine, there was scarcely any period that did 
 not find them suffering on account of their religion in 
 some part of the world. No sooner had the work of 
 destruction ceased in one province, than it commenced 
 in another ; and while it generally originated in the 
 place where the emperor resided, whether Rome or 
 Nicomedia, it speedily extended to distant provinces, 
 which usually, in proportion to their remoteness, 
 surpassed the capital in hostility to the Christians. 
 
 * Burton, ?ol. ii. p. 4.35 ; Neander, p. 160. 
 S 
 
270 TRIALS. 
 
 Occasions were never wanting for the renewal of per- 
 secutions against that devoted people ; and unhappily, 
 the violent changes that almost yearly took place in 
 the imperial line, together with the generally unsettled 
 state of the political hemisphere, produced causes of 
 irritation against the Christians, which, in ordinary 
 circumstances, would not have existed. Their pacific 
 conduct, and the strict neutrality they observed amid 
 the political convulsions and the fierce struggles for 
 power which latterly so much disturbed the empire, 
 were so far from exempting them from annoyance, 
 that the emperor scrupled not to sully the laurels of 
 victory by persecuting them for not taking up arms 
 in support of his claims ; and not seldom, too, did 
 some new adventurer, whose ambition pointed to the 
 throne, attempt to advance his pretensions, and curry 
 favour with the populace, by gratifying their thirst 
 for Christian blood. In the provinces, where for 
 nearly two centuries the edict of Trajan continued a 
 standing law for regulating judicial procedure in re- 
 gard to Christians, it depended wholly on the personal 
 character of the proconsul, whether that protecting 
 ordinance was adhered to or infringed ; and as, in 
 nine cases out of ten, the governors sympathized with 
 the people in religious prejudices, or were influenced 
 by the most sordid motives in the administration of 
 justice, it was at all times easy for the enemies of the 
 Christians, in the face of Trajan's act, to accuse them 
 with impunity, and accomplish their ruin.* A very 
 remarkable example of the unscrupulous evasion of 
 this law, occurred during the reign of Commodus, in 
 the case of Apollonius, a Roman senator. He had 
 been brought before Perennius, on whom the emperor 
 had entirely devolved the care of the State, on the 
 charge of being a Christian ; and that minister feeling 
 a desire to screen Apollonius, determined to revive 
 ithe old standing decree, that the accuser of a Cliris- 
 
 * Tertullian's Letter to Scapula. 
 
MARTYRDOM OF A ROMAN SENATOR. 271 
 
 tiaii should be put to death. But this had not the 
 eifect of screening his Christian friend ; for the senate, 
 deeming their honour concerned in the circumstance 
 of one of their members embracing a new fonn of 
 rehgion, took up the matter, summoned the accused 
 into their presence, and on hearing from his own lips a 
 learned statement and defence of his faith, condemned 
 him by the very same law of Trajan, which ordained 
 that all who acknowledged themselves Christians be- 
 fore a magistrate should be put to death, and accord- 
 ingly this pious s<^nator suifered, although the informer 
 had been prenously executed for bringing an accusa- 
 tion against liitn as a Christian,* This iniquitous 
 proceeding took place in the capital, and by the una- 
 nimous vote of the senate, which hesitated not to 
 violate the law in their eagerness to punish one of 
 their own body for the unpardonable crime of Chris- 
 tianity ; and we may judge by this, how readily gover- 
 nors of distant provinces, left to their own discretion, 
 and assailed by the importunities or bribes of the 
 people over whom they presided, would make the 
 ordinances for the protection of Christians bend to 
 their own convenience and the humour of others. In 
 fact, it was so. The law of Trajan had become a dead 
 letter ; and there was not a single province of the 
 empire, where, if a just and humane deputy governed 
 it one year, he was not succeeded the next by another, 
 who made his tribunal the daily resort of the accusers 
 of Christians, and prostituted his official powers to 
 punish and execute that unotfending race. 
 
 But it was nor from the strong arm of power only 
 that the trials of the primitive Christians proceeded. 
 The philosophers were their formidable enemies ; and 
 it was not the least bitter ingredient in their cup of 
 affliction, that some of the most virulent and calum- 
 nious attacks on them by contemporary writers, were 
 ungenerously published at the very time when they 
 
 * Euseb. Hist. Eccles., 21. 
 
272 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 were exposed to all the severity of persecution, and 
 when their sufferings were likely to be increased by 
 the circulation of malignant satire.* In the front of 
 these assailants stood Porphyry, Lucian, and Celsus, 
 all of whom were unquestionably men of talents, and 
 bigoted disciples of the philosophy of the age, — but 
 whose works, at least the latter two, though they 
 profess to expose, in calm and serious discussion, the 
 doctrines of the Christians, are filled chiefly >vith 
 absurd and slanderous fictions. As they had no wish 
 to know the truth, they read the Scriptures, or listened 
 to their statements, with no other view than to ridi- 
 cule and confute them. Thus, for instance, they 
 reproached Christians with founding their religion on 
 the basis, not of solid and rational argument, but of 
 a blind credulity, that sets all reason and judgment 
 at defiance. They represented the Christian society 
 as composed of thieves, strumpets, and the most fla- 
 gitious characters, because sinners of every description 
 were invited to accept the offers of the Gospel. They 
 described Christian humility as a mean and contemp- 
 tible disposition, by which men were led constantly 
 to be on their knees, — to lie prostrate on the ground, 
 — to appear in poor and tattered garments, and to be 
 covered with ashes. They ridiculed the atonement 
 as a contemptible expedient for mending the world, 
 and altogether unnecessary, as mankind were as good 
 then as they had been at the beginning. They scout- 
 ed the performance of miracles, and maintained that 
 the Eastern jugglers wrought as great wonders every 
 day in the market-places for a little money, as Christ 
 and the apostles did. Lucian, who was a wit and a 
 libertine, directed his shafts solely against what ap- 
 peared to him the weak parts of Christianity, — those 
 which were particularly capable of being represented 
 in a ludicrous point of view. His sarcastic raillery 
 had ample scope for its exercise against the brotherly 
 
 * Neander, p. 164. 
 
PORPHYRY LUCIAN CELSUS. 273 
 
 love which subsisted among Christians, — their reliance 
 on a crucified man as a God, and the triumphant hopes 
 they cherished of immortiil Hfe ; * and coming, as his 
 attacks did, not in the form of grave arguments, but 
 grotesque caricatures, they made " the world's dread 
 laugh " a more formidable engine of torture than even 
 the stake or the cross. By philosophers of every school, 
 whether the frigid stoics, or the sensual epicureans, or 
 the rational Platonists, or the pompous rhetoricians, 
 the followers of Christ were assailed with ridicule and 
 contempt, and held up in writings or conversation ;i6 
 objects of public infamy. Nay, their enemies some- 
 times resorted to less legitimate and most unphiloso- 
 phic means of assault. Hierocles, the literary governor 
 of Alexandria, published a work full of the most 
 shameless falsehoods against the Christians, in the 
 midst of a persecution against them which he himself 
 had commenced. Crescens, the Cynic, and Fronto, 
 from whom the Emperor Aurelian took lessons in elo- 
 cution, distinguished themselves by their zeal in giving 
 every annoyance to the Christians of their day, and by 
 their malicious gratification in putting them to death, t 
 Philosophers though they were, they were incapable 
 of understandinfj the sniritaal doctrines which Christi- 
 anity taught about God and the soul. They supposed 
 tliat a religion which had no temples, no statues, and 
 no altars, was a secret form of impiety, and certain 
 of drawing down the anger of the very gods they 
 affected to despise. ;|; Even Porphyry could gravely 
 maintain, during a season of great mortality, that 
 the power of the god Esculapius was frustrated by the 
 increasing influence and numbers of the Christians ; 
 and on that account, recommended their extermination 
 as enemies of the gods. Scarcely did the primitive 
 Christians ever encounter more bitter and deadly ene- 
 
 * Neander, p. 175. f Justin, Second Apology. 
 
 t They held, that whoever despised the authority of the gods, would not 
 respect the institutions of man. — Dion. 
 
274 TRIALS. 
 
 mies, than the disciples of the ancient philosophy, 
 unless we place on a level with them the priests of the 
 reigning superstition. 
 
 Under the general denomination of priests, we 
 rank a host of persons, formidable alike by their 
 bigoted attachment to the rites of Paganism, and 
 by their prodigious influence with all classes of so- 
 ciety. Among these, from pontiffs of the highest 
 order, who were generally scions of equestrian and 
 senatorial families, and not unfrequently intrusted 
 with offices of government, to the lowest menial in 
 the service of the gods — artisans and traders of all 
 sorts, whose employment consisted in furnishing the 
 shrines and statues, the victims and incense which 
 idolatry required, — dealers in magic and jugglery, — 
 keepers of public places of entertainment, and an in- 
 finite multitude of others, whose interests were bound 
 up with the continued prosperity of the temples, — 
 there prevailed an intense feeling of hatred to the 
 Christians, which was ever ready to break out into 
 open hostility, as often as the latter gave some new 
 symptoms of refusal to conform to the ancient wor- 
 ship. Feeling serious alarms lest the progress of the 
 Gospel, which had already diminished the splendour 
 and emoluments of their several professions, would 
 endanger the very existence of their crafts, — those 
 priestly agitators left no stone unturned by which they 
 could render Christians the objects both of imperial 
 vengeance and popular odium. Those of them whose 
 rank and family connections procured them access to 
 the presence and the ears of royalty, often denounced 
 to the emperors those persons whose Christianity gave 
 them the greatest umbrage ; and, by their instiga- 
 tion, many individual and local outrages were com- 
 mitted on the followers of Christ, at times when there 
 was no public or special persecution of his friends. 
 Thus, in the memorable case of Symphorosa, her hus- 
 band, a Roman gentleman of high rank and fortune, 
 
SYMPHOROSA AND HER SONS. 275 
 
 had, for his refusal to sacrifice to the gods, fallen a 
 -victim to tlie machinations of the priests, but their 
 offended pride could not be appeased till every mem- 
 ber of this Christian family had met the same violent 
 fate. They, accordingly, formed their plans ; and at 
 a time when Hadrian was laying the foundations 
 of a splendid country house, and honouring the 
 joyous occasion with an extraordinary profusion of 
 idolatrous rites, they persuaded the credulous em- 
 peror, that the omens would not be favourable, un- 
 less this Christian lady and her family, who were 
 in the neighbourhood, should join in this sacrifice. 
 Hadrian, full of indignation, summoned her into his 
 presence, and commanded her and her children to do 
 homage to the gods, on penalty of death. Her re- 
 fusal, as might have been expected, sealed her fate ; 
 and her seven sons, who were no less resolute, cheer- 
 fully parted with life, rather than comply with the 
 idolatrous rite. * With the inferior magistrates, who 
 were more easily approached, the priestly influence 
 was attended with still more frequent and fatal suc- 
 cess. As it was no part of their policy to allow the 
 Christians to live in peace, much less to enjoy the 
 smiles of official favour and patronage, they employed 
 every art to poison the minds of the governors against 
 them. Scarce a day passed but they dragged some 
 of the obnoxious believers to the tribunals, on the 
 charge either of irreverence to the national objects of 
 worship, or some crime against the customs of society 
 or the laws of the State ; and by artful colouring of 
 some, by studied misrepresentation of (fther practices 
 of the Christians, by turns incensed, prejudiced, and 
 alarmed magistrates, who had no intention of perse- 
 cuting the people for their religion, to adopt measures 
 of severity against the whole race. In no case was 
 their malignant zeal against the Christians more active 
 than when these betrayed any public manifestations 
 
 * Burton, Eccles. Hist., p. 67. 
 
276 TRIALS. 
 
 of contempt for the rites of idolatry ; and as at sea- 
 sons of rejoicing, festivals, and all popular processions 
 through the streets, images of their gods were carried, 
 at sight of which passengers were requested to give 
 a reverential bow, the moment that a Christian was 
 observed to frown upon the symbol, or to pass with- 
 out the customary tokens of homage, he was appre- 
 hended by the eagle-eyed emissaries of the priests, 
 and hurried off to the judgment-seat, as an enemy 
 of the gods. Among innumerable instances of such 
 summary vengeance, we shall content ourselves with 
 the mention of one Avhich happened at a small town 
 in the neighbourhood of Lyons. The magistrates of 
 the place had acted on the principle of toleration, and 
 although they knew that there were some Christians 
 in the city, they had neither searched for them, nor 
 given them any disturbance in the exercise of their 
 peculiar worship, till, on the annual return of a re- 
 ligious festivity, a tumultuous outcry was occasioned 
 by the refusal of one of their number to make the 
 expected salute to the divinity as it moved along the 
 highway- It was an image of Cybele, carried round 
 the town as usual in a stately car, and an immense 
 concourse of people were accompanying it with all 
 the noisy demonstrations of devotion which distin- 
 guished the rites of that goddess. At intervals the 
 assembled multitude threw themselves at the feet of 
 the statue — and the signal had. been given for a new 
 act of prostration, when Symphorianus, a young man 
 of family and fortune, who was passing by, continued 
 his erect posture, pleading his conscientious scruples 
 to join in the idolatrous act. The indignation of the 
 officiating priest knew no bounds, and finding his fiery 
 zeal for the honour of the goddess readily seconded by 
 the acclamations of the excited populace, he forthwith 
 ordered him to be carried before the governor, who, 
 through the irresistible influence of the priestly coun- 
 sellor, condemned the young Cliristian, in spite of the 
 
SYMPHORIANUS POPULAR OUTRAGES. 277 
 
 importunities and tears of his powerful connections, to 
 immediate execution.* 
 
 But it was chiefly to the prejudices and selfishness 
 of the people that the priests addressed themselves, 
 and it was by the aid of the " fierce democracy," more 
 than by edicts of emperors and the countenance of 
 magistrates, they hoped to crush the rival religion. 
 The popular mind was an engine of prodigious power, 
 which they could at all times wield for the accom- 
 plishment of their own purposes, and seldom was a 
 group of idlers collected on the streets, but some 
 meddling official of the temples and his brotlier- 
 mechanics in their employ, raised the shout of " There 
 goes, or there lives, a Christian," and forthwith as- 
 sailed the unfortunate object of their hatred with a 
 shower of missiles. But the deadliest blow against 
 the Christians was always reserved for the great 
 solemnities, — whether religious observances or civil 
 anniversaries, it mattered not, as all public occasions 
 were attended with some ceremonies of worship. 
 Amid the excesses and revelry which the artful dema- 
 gogues were at sucli times forward to encourage, the 
 zeal of the people for the national faith naturally ran 
 high, and could easily be made to discharge itself 
 in torrents of impetuous vengeance on any object 
 that implied dishonour or gave opposition to the gods. 
 Accordingly, those seasons were invariably selected by 
 the priests for instigating violent proceedings against 
 the Christians, and to make sure of their victims, 
 they took care to let the festivity be far advanced, 
 and the hearts of the rabble inflamed with wine and 
 pleasure, ere they raised the hue and cry, — " There 
 are enemies of the gods amonjx us." That was the 
 Signal for pillage and massacre. The houses of the 
 Christians, which had previously been marked, were 
 from that moment besieged, and forcibly entered — 
 the inmates apprehended as the worst of criminals 
 
 ^ Neander, p. 114; Hailes* Martyrs of Lyons. 
 
2T8 TRIALS. ■ ' 
 
 — their persons treated with every indignity, and the 
 tumult never ceased till the implacable revenge of 
 the priests had been appeased by the sacrifice of the 
 more conspicuous believers. Such were the scenes 
 enacted at almost every heathen festivity for the first 
 three centuries. The magistrates, unable to contend 
 against the popular tide, connived at the outrages, or 
 knowing that the insurrection was designed solely to 
 rid society of a few gloomy and disaffected religion- 
 ists, willingly allowed the fury of the mob full scope 
 to expend itself; so that the bigot supporters of the 
 honours of Jupiter, and the other occupiers of the 
 Pantheon, waxing bold by the silent permission of 
 these lawless excesses, renewed their arts to excite 
 the irritation of their followers, daily promoted the 
 circulation of some new slander against the disciples, 
 and at length, by their indefatigable malignity, brought 
 things to such a state, that the poor persecuted Chris- 
 tians could scarce enjoy any short interval of repose, 
 or find a place to rest the sole of their foot. That 
 the trials of the Christians, arising from the secret 
 machinations of the priests, were severe and manifold, 
 even when there was no public and authorized per- 
 secution of their religion, many painful instances 
 might be adduced from the works of contemporary 
 writers to prove. One example only shall be given 
 relating to the period of the brief but terrible persecu- 
 tion of Decius. " That persecution," says Dionysius, 
 " had not its beginning from the imperial edict, but 
 began a whole year before ; — a soothsayer and poet 
 stirred up the multitudes against us, exhorting them 
 to contend for the superstition of their country. In- 
 stigated by him, and having it in their power to do 
 as they pleased, they thought that religion lay in 
 nothing more than in killing us. First of all, they 
 laid hold of an aged man, named Metrius, command- 
 ing him to repeat some profane words, and when he 
 refused, they laid many blows upon his body with 
 
POPULAR OUTRAGES. 279 
 
 clubs, and pricked him on the face and eyes with sharp 
 reeds, and then leading him into the suburbs, they 
 stoned him to death. Afterwards dragging a pious 
 woman, named Quinta, to their temple, they required 
 her to fall and worship the idol ; but she positively 
 disdaining to comply, they tied her feet, and dragged 
 lier through the city, which is paved with sharp stones, 
 and havinfj dashed her against millstones and scourged 
 her, they led her to the same place, and stoned her. 
 They then broke into the houses of many pious men, 
 robbing and plundering them of what they possessed. 
 Many of the brethren saved themselves by flight — 
 joyfully talcing the spoiling of their goods. Moreover, 
 they laid hold of a venerable lady, named ApoUonia, 
 they struck her upon the face, and beat out all her 
 teeth — then lighting a fire without the city, they 
 threatened to bum her alive, unless she would join 
 with them in pronouncing their blasphemous words, — 
 but she, begging a short respite, and being let loose, 
 threw herself into the fire, and was consumed to ashes. 
 Serapion they seized in his own house, and having 
 broken all his limbs, hurled him headlong from the 
 upper part of the dwelling. Nor had we a safe 
 passage any where through public streets and narrow 
 lanes, either by night or day ; but continually every 
 where the people were universally crying out, ' Whoever 
 refuses to pronounce such and such impious words, let 
 them be immediately seized and thrown into the fire.' 
 Things Avent on in this way for some time, till at 
 length the edict itself came, which greatly increased 
 our trials.'' * Such deadly enemies to the Christians 
 were the priests, the sellers of victims, and the whole 
 tribe of attaches to the temples. They were the chief 
 instigators of all the cruelties inflicted on the followers 
 of Christ, since to them belongs the infamy, not only 
 of whetting the rage of the populace, and throwing 
 the apple of discord into every city, Adllage and hamlet, 
 
 * Lardner, vol. viii. p. 148; Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. xi. p. 9. 
 
280 TRIALS. 
 
 where Christians were to be found ; but of originat- 
 ing, through their creatures in the Court, many of 
 the coercive edicts of the emperors. All the powers 
 of the State, and all the prejudices of the people, they 
 laboured constantly to enlist against the believers, and 
 their malice was always most active and implacable at 
 those periods when the rulers Avere disposed to show 
 any indulgence to the adherents of the Gospel. 
 
 But the great and sorest trials of the primitive 
 Christians proceeded from a quarter totally different 
 from any now mentioned. They might have borne 
 the ridicule and contempt of philosophers, — they 
 might have braved the outrages of the priests, — they 
 might have escaped the pains and penalties of the 
 imperial inquisitors, — for how often have the inven- 
 tive resources of strong affection pointed out ways and 
 means of concealment, which it baffled the Argus-eyed 
 blood-hounds of persecution to discover ? But uniiap- 
 pily, their foes were often found in their own house- 
 hold, and those Avhom, it might have been supposed, 
 the dictates of nature would have prompted to throw 
 over them the shield of their protection, and made 
 anxious to conceal, if they could not prevent, the con- 
 version of their friends, were generally the foremost 
 to visit that change of religion with tokens of their 
 severest displeasure. The condition of a Christian 
 in an ancient Pagan family, was to the last degree 
 painful. Multitudes of single persons even, in the 
 hottest periods of persecution, passed with impunity, 
 and lived unmolested, — the obscurity of their rank, 
 or the remoteness of their situation, preventing their 
 attachment to Christianity from reaching the ears of 
 the public oppressors of the faith. But in the family 
 or workshop, where every movement was observed, 
 and every habit known, no exercise of vigilance, no 
 measures of precaution, could long screen the reader 
 of the Scriptures, or "him that prayed," from the 
 hostile eyes of those with whom he was daily and 
 
FROM RELATIVES AND FRIENDS. 281 
 
 A 
 
 hourly mingling. The discovery by unbelieving rela- 
 tives and friends, that one of their circle had become 
 a worshipper of the Crucified, or was seeking his stolen 
 enjoyment in the perusal of the Christian parchments, 
 was accompanied with a feeling of horror as great as 
 that with which they would have detected the appear- 
 ance of a plague-spot ; and they who would have dis- 
 regarded or excused, perhaps with a smile, in their 
 most intimate associates, the perpetration of the grossest 
 vices, or the existence of the most grovelling habits, felt 
 all their most violent passions in arms against them the 
 moment they found them to be Christians. No mat- 
 ter hovyever wise, virtuous, or respectable, they had 
 been hitherto esteemed in other respects, — the highest 
 degree of excellence could not remove the indelible 
 stigma which the profession of Christianity was sup- 
 posed to have attached to their name. Their families 
 looked upon them as the dupes of a wretched and 
 pestilent delusion, — the hands which were formerly 
 ready to give them a welcome embrace, no longer re- 
 turned the friendly pressure, — the tongues which used 
 to be eloquent in praise of their estimable qualities, 
 maintained a contemptuous silence respecting them, 
 or mentioned them only with pity, as having sunk to 
 the lowest point of human degradation ; — and what 
 between the scorn and buffeting of some, the bitter 
 sarcasm and unfeeling insults of others, and the 
 studied avoidance of all, the position of the primitive 
 Christians, in private and domestic life, was a daily 
 series of trials immeasurably more painful than the 
 fiercest violence of the torture or the stake. Even in 
 these rare cases of exception, where the adoption of 
 Christianity made no abatement of natural affection, 
 and the kindly offices of friendship and civility were 
 interchanged as before, they could not mingle in the 
 society of those they most loved and reverenced on 
 earth, without finding circumstances perpetually oc- 
 curring which rendered that intercourse acutely pain- 
 
282 TRIALS. 
 
 ful to their feelings. If brethren, they could not in- 
 discriminately associate with their own family, whose 
 commonest actions, and commonest forms of speech, 
 were impregnated with idolatry. They shuddered at 
 the blessing of love, which to their ears was uttered 
 in a demon's name, — they could not meet at the same 
 hospitable board without being offended, at the com- 
 mencement or termination of their meals, by observ- 
 ing names invoked and libations made, which, in their 
 Adew, were acts of profanity. At births, marriages, 
 funerals, — in the most joyous or the most solemn 
 vicissitudes of human life, — they were often compelled 
 to forego the company of their friends, or else they 
 purchased that enjoyment at the expense of their 
 holiest and most cherished feelings. If they were 
 slaves, their situation was still more trying, from their 
 being denied the privilege of refusing to perform 
 offices, which were not disagreeable to them as ser- 
 vants, but culpable as Christians. Their life became 
 a painful struggle between attachment to their earthly, 
 and fidelity to their heavenly Master. Their souls 
 were daily agitated with remorse, when they were re- 
 quired to place even a crumb of cake before the house- 
 hold gods he honom'ed as the guardians of his dwelling. 
 Their hand shook with trembling, when on festive 
 occasions they were sent to pour out a cup of wine on 
 the threshold, and when, on the thanksgiving anni- 
 versaries, so frequent in the families of the Greeks and 
 Romans, their duty was to pronounce aloud the name 
 of a national deity — they feared incurring the penalties 
 of the unpardonable sin, if they named the detestable 
 word. Thus, all the tender and amiable feelings of 
 their nature, heightened and refined as they were by 
 Christianity, were a constant source of trials to the 
 believers from their intercourse with their heathen 
 iriends. No eye but that of Omniscience saw, and 
 no book but that of His remembrance can tell the 
 secret, though deep and bitter agonies of soul, which 
 
FROM RELATIVES AND FRIENDS. 283 
 
 father or mother, son or daughter, hushand or wife, 
 relative or slave, daily felt from the unbelief or annoy- 
 ances of their idolatrous household — agonies all the 
 more acute and heart-rending, that they were, from 
 their circumstances, studiously concealed from obser- 
 vation, and proceeded from causes of sorrow, Avhich 
 could not be unbosomed to any friendly or sympa- 
 thetic ear around. 
 
 But, alas ! it was but rarely that Christians were 
 allowed by their unbelieving relatives to continue in 
 the same affectionate intercourse as before. Conver- 
 sion generally severed all the ties of natm-e, and those 
 who had all their lifetime been objects of the warmest 
 love and endearment to their families, were, from the 
 moment of their embracing the Gospel, looked upon 
 as aliens — as entailing such foul and indelible dis- 
 grace on their name as Avould not allow their kins- 
 folk to hold up their heads with honour and freedom 
 in society. The most anxious and persevering efforts 
 were made to detach them from the new sect, and 
 win^them back to the faith and worship of their an- 
 cestors. Those who were in circumstances to afford 
 it, sent them on their travels, to dissipate, amid foreign 
 scenery and manners, what they termed a fit of re- 
 ligious melancholy. Some undertook long and ex- 
 pensive journeys to consult the oracles on the best 
 means of reclaiming their apostatizing friends — others 
 flattered, entreated, and remonstrated with them by 
 turns, exhausting all the arguments which pride, 
 interest, and regard to reputation furnished ; and 
 when they found all the arts of persuasion employed 
 in vain, they visited their '*- obstinacy," as it was called, 
 with the weight of their heaviest displeasure. Chil- 
 dren were disowned, disinherited, and sometimes sold 
 for slaves by their parents, although they had no 
 ground of complaint against them, but their attach- 
 ment to Christianity. Masters threw their servants 
 into prison, although they now found them more 
 
284 TRIALS. 
 
 submissive, docile, and useful than ever. Wives, 
 though patterns of virtue and conjugal fidelity, were 
 often annoyed by their husbands inviting parties of 
 their dissolute friends to their homes, and command- 
 ing the attendance of their partners, at the very time 
 they were in the habit of going to the church, — or 
 locking them up for days and weeks in dark rooms, 
 w^here they were fed on bread and water, — or burning 
 their Bibles, — or giving to the dogs the pieces of 
 communion-bread, which, according to the fashion of 
 primitive times, they had deposited for private use in 
 their chests, — or turning them adrift, houseless and un- 
 protected wanderers, at midnight to the streets. Nay, 
 multitudes, dead to all the feelings of nature, often 
 became informers against their Christian relatives — 
 with their own hands dragged them to the tribunals 
 of the governors, and stood in the foremost ranks of 
 the crowd at their execution, " consenting to their 
 death." * A few historical anecdotes will illustrate 
 this. A woman, married to a profligate, whom she 
 had long aided with money and other means, to pro- 
 secute his debaucheries, was at length happily con- 
 verted to the faith of Jesus, and of course she not 
 only ceased to be the guilty partner of her husband's 
 excesses, but exerted herself, by fervent prayers, and 
 a course of the most affectionate and patient remon- 
 strances, to reclaim him from his habits of dissipation. 
 Enraged at her altered conduct, he perpetrated the 
 most unnatural barbarities on his submissive wife, 
 and at length carried her, as an enemy to the gods, 
 before the judgment-seat. A Roman of patrician 
 rank had an only son, who was the heir of his title 
 and his immense fortune, and on whose education 
 he had bestowed the greatest pains and expense. In 
 Athens, whither he had been sent for the last accom- 
 
 • This was a literal accomplishment, of prophecy. " The brother Bhall 
 betray the brother to death, and the father the son ; and children shall 
 rise up against tlieir parents, and shall cause them to be put to death." — 
 Mark xiii. 12- 
 
ANECDOTES. 285 
 
 plishments — the young man was thrown into the 
 society of some Christians, whose conversation and ex- 
 ample produced on his mind so beneficial an influence, 
 that it led to his becoming a sincere and devoted fol- 
 lower of Christ. His father recalled him to Rome, and 
 finding, to his bitter disappointment, that it was impos- 
 sible, by all his paternal authority or threats, to induce 
 him to abandon the principles he had embraced, the 
 unnatural parent, considering them as a foul stain on his 
 family escutcheon, disowned his only son, and adopted 
 that of a freedman, whom he made the heir of all he 
 possessed. In the persecution of Diocletian, a Car- 
 thaginian girl, of the name of Victoria, became a 
 Christian, while her father, brother, and the rest of 
 her family, continued heathens. Being dragged to the 
 tribunals on account of her relifrion, her brother un- 
 ceasingly pronounced her to be insane, and pleaded 
 the unsound state of her mind as a reason for her 
 being liberated. This was a common charge made 
 against the Christians by their heathen friends, both 
 in public and in private, and every-day life, — not from 
 tenderness and sympathy, to save them from danger, 
 but from outrage and indignation at their " detestable 
 obstinacy." The young Victoria, however, calmly and 
 stedfastly avowed herself a Christian, and to the vehe- 
 ment protestations of her brother, she replied, "It is my 
 firm and stedfast conviction — I have never changed." 
 Agathoclia was a Christian slave in a household, of 
 which the master had been converted to the faith of 
 Christ, while his wife still continued a heathen, and 
 entertained such strong and deep-rooted prejudices in 
 favour of idolatry, that she could not rest contented till 
 she had reclaimed the members of her family to the 
 superstition of their fathers. Accordingly, she directed 
 her utmost efforts daily to the accomplishment of this 
 object ; and when she found it impossible to make any 
 impression on the mind of her husband, she made her 
 assaults constantly on her poor dependent, Agathoclia, 
 
 T 
 
286 TRIALS. 
 
 in every form of command and menace. For about 
 eight years she continued this system of domestic per- 
 secution, and when at length she saw that all her 
 anxious labours were ineffectual, she ordered the slave, 
 in a fit of ungovernable rage, to be put to death, with 
 lingering tortures too horrible to relate.* Theophilus, 
 the celebrated Bishop of Antioch, was the bosom-friend 
 of Autolycus. From their earliest years they had lived 
 in terms of the closest intimacy, — were inseparable 
 companions, and being fond of the same studies, and 
 cherishing the same tastes and sentiments, possessed 
 all the qualifications that promised a lasting mutual 
 attachment. Theophilus, however, became a Chris- 
 tian, and from that moment he found that his adop- 
 tion of the religion of Jesus had completely alienated 
 from him the friend of his early youth. Bitterly 
 did he complain of the ungenerous conduct, and in a 
 letter still extant, occasioned by this circumstance, he 
 shows us what was the real cause of that discord and 
 hatred which the profession of Christianity produced 
 between the nearest friends. " Thou upbraidest me," 
 says he, " with the 7iame of Christian, as if it were 
 something evil." The very name of Christian was so 
 odious to the heathen, that it became a term expressive 
 of the deepest degradation, — and so much did hostility 
 to the title enter into all the proceedings against the 
 followers of Jesus, that men who were chargeable 
 with no crime against the laws of society, and who, if 
 tried in a regular court of justice, would have been 
 certainly acquitted of all imputations, were condemned 
 and punished for no other offence than their bearing 
 the obnoxious appellation, t The very lowest of the 
 
 * Owners of slaves had anciently the power of life and death over them. 
 
 t Lactantius, p. 30 ; Neander, p. 30 ; Watson's Apol., p. 316. The hos- 
 tility to the name might arise from the strange and unaccountable attach- 
 ment which the Christians showed for it. So much did tiiey glory in 
 it. that they often unnecessarily, and with great indiscretion, proclaimed 
 it in presence of the heathen, and in contempt of the greatest dangers. 
 Sanctus, one of the martyrs of Lyons, when interrogated by the governor 
 what was his name, his country, his profession, and whether he was a free- 
 man or a slave, answered all these questions simply by saying, that he was 
 3 Christian,— declaring that this title was country, profession, every thing 
 to him. 
 
ANECDOTES. 287 
 
 people shrunk from the presence of a Christian, as if 
 he would receive the worst contamination ; they were 
 ashamed to be seen speaking to him on the streets, — 
 and in the dungeons, in which the martyrs were con- 
 fined with the most depraved criminals from all parts of 
 the Roman world, "men-stealers, murderers of fathers, 
 and murderers of mothers," — even these shunned their 
 society, and looked on themselves as they were looked 
 on by others, as felons less foul than those Christians.* 
 When the celebrated martyr. Attains, was carried 
 through the amphitheatre, that he might be exposed 
 to the derision of the populace before his execution, 
 the crime for which he was condemned to die was 
 MTitten on a tablet, and fastened to his breast, " This 
 is Attains, the Christian." It was a proverb in com- 
 mon conversation, " Such a one is an excellent man, 
 only he is a Christian ; " or, " I wonder such a one, 
 who is a wise man, could have become a Christian." 
 " Wicked men from Palestine," is the designation 
 usually given to the adherents of the Gospel in the 
 first ages, and medals are still extant, which were 
 struck in honour of the emperors, for ha\dng rid the 
 empire of " robbers and Christians." t So completely 
 were the bonds of society broken by the adoption of 
 Christianity, — such implacable animosity against the 
 Christians took possession even of the mildest and 
 most humane of the heathens, that those who had long 
 been inseparable and bosom companions, the moment 
 either became a believer, were converted into the 
 deadliest enemies, — the streams of parental afiection 
 and filial love were completely dried up, — the hus- 
 band could not endure the company of his wife, and 
 the wife was alienated from her husband. In the 
 circle of his dearest and most venerated relatives, the 
 
 • So odious was the name, that many persons who wished to avenge 
 themselves of their enemies, or get rid of their relatives, falsely accused 
 them of being Christians, to accomplish their certain ruin in society. — 
 Lardner, vol. viii. p. 133. 
 
 t Ireland, p. 25; Cave's Prim. Christianity, p. 85 ; Neander, p. 15G ; 
 Burton, p. 149. 
 
28S TRIALS. 
 
 follower of Jesus daily suffered martyrdom worse tlian 
 a thousand deaths, living in perpetual fear, lest, if he 
 should be detected to-day reading the Scriptures in 
 his closet, or kneeling by his bed-side, the father under 
 whose roof he lived, the mother who bore him, the 
 brother who occupied the same apartment, or the slave 
 w^ho waited on his person, might denounce him to the 
 tribunals to-raorrow. 
 
 This stern opposition to the Gospel, no doubt, arose, 
 in the first instance, from hatred to its pure spirit 
 and lofty tone of morality, which, in all circumstances 
 distasteful to the corrupt heart of man, could not fail, 
 in a peculiar manner, to influence all the violent pas- 
 sions of a people who were inured to the most demo- 
 ralizing habits, and wedded to the most grovelling 
 pleasures of sense. As worldly and wicked men 
 always dislike a doctrine that condemns their favourite 
 lusts and habits, and enjoins strictness and purity of 
 life, it was no wonder that the Gospel was most un- 
 w^elcome to the ancient heathens, — that they made the 
 greatest efforts to prevent its extension, and that the 
 bitter spirit of opposition they manifested against it, 
 was just in proportion to the greatness of their corrup- 
 tions, and the inveterate hold which the old religion 
 had obtained of their minds. The feelings of dislike 
 and prejudice against the doctrine itself were nnturally 
 transferred to those who embraced it ; and as light 
 is not more opposite to darkness, the savage wolf 
 not more dissimilar to the peaceful lamb, than true 
 Christians are to all lovers of profligacy and perpetra- 
 tors of crime, it was as natural for the latter, when they 
 had the power, to abuse and persecute the holy fol- 
 lowers of Christ, as it is for the ravenous 'beast of the 
 forest to lie in wait for, and destroy the defenceless 
 flock. But the character of the persecutions carried 
 on during the first ages against the Christians, — the 
 bodily pains and penalties which were so relentlessly 
 inflicted on tbem by the members of their own fami- 
 
ANECDOTES. 289 
 
 lies, — the war of extermination wliich for nearly three 
 centuries Avas waged against the very name, indicate 
 the existence of some active secondary causes of op- 
 position, — point to some peculiarities in the state of 
 society and the maxims of government, as well as to 
 the prevalence of ignorance and prejudice in the 
 popular mind of no ordinary description ; and accord- 
 ingly, another source of trials to the primitive Chris- 
 tians arose from the numerous charges and horrid 
 calumnies which ignorance propagated and prejudice 
 believed against them. The consideration of these, not 
 the least painful of the afflictions that befell the earlv 
 believers, will form the subject of the next chapter. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 CHRISTIANS ACCUSED OF INTROUtlCING A NEW RELIGION— MANKIND NATU- 
 RALLY AVERSE TO WHAT IS NEW — ROMANS PARTICULARLY JEALOUS 
 OF ANY NOVELTIES IN RELIGION— CHRISTIANS ACCUSED OF HOLDING 
 ILLEGAL ASSEMBLIES — OF FORMING CONSPIRACIES —THESE CHARGES 
 FIRST AROSE FROM THEIR NOT PARTAKING IN PUBLIC REJOICINGS, AND 
 FROM INDISCRETION OF SOME CHRISTIANS —ANECDOTES— CH ttlSTIANS 
 ACCUSED OF BEING USELESS MEMBERS OF SOCIETY— OF BEING ATHEISTS 
 — OF BEING THE OCCASION OF PUBLIC CALAMITIES— OF GROSS IMMO- 
 RALITIES AND HORRID CRIMES— OF BEING POOR AND IGNORANT. 
 
 From the time when Paul was charged in the Senate 
 of Athens with being a setter forth of strange gods, 
 the cry was raised against the Christians of conspir- 
 ing to abolish all ancient and venerable institut ons ; 
 and the alarm taken by the Athenian philosophers 
 was rapidly spread from one place to another, till 
 the eye of suspicion every where fell on the fol- 
 lowers of Clirist, as men who wished to turn the 
 world upside down. The accusation was, in its con- 
 sequences, a formidable one, as it not only roused 
 against them the dislike and opposition of those who 
 were personally interested in the existing forms of 
 worship, but alarmed that disposition which has ever 
 been a powerful principle in the human mind, to cling 
 with fond and reverend attachment to old observances. 
 People become tenacious of customs the most trifling 
 and worthless, which are familiar to them from habit, 
 
ACCUSATIONS AGAINST THE CHRISTIANS. 291 
 
 and have existed from remote antiquity ; and in 
 nothing so much as in religion has this propen- 
 sity discovered itself; mankind in all ages having 
 deemed it a pious duty to continue every sacred 
 observance which has age in its favour, and shown an 
 invincible aversion to make the smallest deviation 
 from the faith in which they were educated. In the 
 bosoms of the ancient Gentiles as well as of the Jews, 
 there reigned the strongest prepossessions in fivour of 
 the traditions of their fathers ; and it was with mingled 
 feelings of surprise and horror, they looked upon the 
 followers of the new sect as entertaining the sacrilegi- 
 ous design of uprooting all they were taught to believe 
 as true, and reverence as sacred. Ignorant of Chris- 
 tianity, and careless in inquiring whether it was true 
 or not, they were violently inflamed against it, on the 
 ground of its being a departure from all the establish- 
 ed forms of Avorship in the world ; and the very first 
 and most contemptuous objection that was thrown in 
 the face of the primitive Christians, was the novelty 
 of the doctrine. " Where was your religion a few 
 years ago?" was a question with which their heathen 
 contemporaries constantly taunted them. " It was 
 nowhere heard of: whereas ours," said they, " has 
 from time immemorial been the prevailing form of re- 
 ligion ; it has descended through a long series of ages, 
 as an inheritance from our fathers ; it has the sanc- 
 tion of legislators, the opinions of philosophers, and the 
 authority of oracles in its favour ; and under its auspices 
 we have enjoyed every degree of prosperity we can 
 desire, both for ourselves, our families, and our nation. 
 Why, then, should we abandon a form of religion in 
 which we have been bred, to which we are attached, 
 and which, moreover, has been adopted in all coun- 
 tries and cities, by Greeks and barbarians, for new and 
 foreign rites which are but of yesterday's growth ? "* 
 To this loose and popular argument, which was gravely 
 
 * Eusebius Hist. Eccles., p. 4. 
 
292 TRIALS. 
 
 urged in defence of their superstitions, it was in vain 
 that the Christians retorted, that religion was to be 
 judged of, not by its antiquity, but its truth, — that it 
 was reasonable and proper to change old institutions, 
 when better ones were offered, — and that, while such 
 strong and convincing proofs were adduced to attest 
 the truth of Christianity, it was foolish to object to it 
 on account of its being a new religion. " You tell 
 us," said Clemens Alexandrinus, in a curious speci- 
 men of the arguments employed against their contem- 
 poraries by the primitive Christians, " that it is an 
 impious and unpardonable offence to depart from the 
 customs which your fathers have transmitted, and yet 
 you are daily acting in other respects in opposition to 
 your own principles. If it is wrong to change things 
 from what they are, why do you not continue all 
 your days to live on the nurse's milk which formed 
 your first and only food ? why do you leave the toys 
 and amusements of infancy and childhood for the 
 grave occupations of mature age ? why do you pull 
 down your houses to build new ones, and extend the 
 boundaries of your estate beyond what you received 
 from your fathers ? " In a similar strain of forcible 
 and ironical argument, Ambrose said, " You cast up 
 to us that our way of religion is new, while yours is 
 very ancient. But what does this either weaken our 
 cause or assist yours ? If ours be new, it will in time 
 become old. Is yours old ? There was a time when 
 it was new. The excellence and authority of reli- 
 gion is not to be valued by length of time, but by the 
 reasonableness and advantages of its worship, nor 
 ought it so much to be a matter of consideration when 
 it began as what it is we worship." * To the same 
 effect the great Lactantius wrote, — " You object to 
 us the lateness of our religion, and maintain, that 
 we should invariably abide by what our ancestors 
 approved. But we find that they were far from 
 
 * Cave's Prim. Christ., part i. chap, ii. 
 
NOVELTY OF THEIR RELIGION. 293 
 
 continuing in the same unvarying state. They rose 
 gradually from their original state of poverty and 
 meanness to the comforts and splendour of artificial 
 life. Was it wrong in them to exchange their skins 
 of beasts for decent and convenient garments, and 
 their mud cottages, or habitations in caves of the 
 eaith, for stately and spacious houses ? And, if it was 
 no harm to deviate from the ancient usages of their 
 ancestors in matters of temporal and civil life, it surely 
 implied no greater want of respect for their wisdom 
 to change and improve on their forms of religion." 
 Besides, it was frequently and earnestly pleaded by 
 the Christians, that as the great and sole object of 
 their worship was the Maker and Sovereign of heaven 
 and of earth, who was before all creatures and all 
 things, their religion, instead of being but of yester- 
 day, as was contemptuously alleged, was as old as the 
 creation of man, and the principles and duties incul- 
 cated in it were such as reason and conscience ap- 
 proved. All their arguments and pleadings, however, 
 were of no avail in silencing the opposition of the 
 heathen, who never spoke, but with the most con- 
 temptuous sneers, of Jesus as the Author of the 
 new religion, and of the Christians as the new sect, 
 which, having sprung from an obscure and barbar- 
 ous country, had spread themselves over the world 
 with the view of introducing their new doctrines 
 and new customs every where. It is impossible to 
 convey an idea of the bitter feelings that were enter- 
 tained towards a class of men who felt — and gloried 
 in expressing — contempt for the religious notions and 
 rites of their contemporaries. Had they merely in- 
 troduced a foreign worship, without disturbing the 
 heathen in the enjoyment of theirs, that toleration 
 which idolaters always showed to the religious cus- 
 toms of others, would have been freely extended to 
 them, and that respect would have been testified for 
 their religion, which, by the common consent of all 
 
294 TRIALS. 
 
 antiquity, always attached to those who religiously 
 observed the customs of their ancestors. It was thus 
 that the heathens countenanced the Jews in their 
 adherence to the ritual of Moses, for however absurd 
 and contemptible they reckoned the -worship of that 
 people, their devoted attachment to the faith of their 
 forefathers was imputed to feelings, which it was 
 deemed a sacred duty to honour, and the highest 
 criminality to violate. But in the Christians they 
 saw a set of men, who, not only in Palestine, the 
 place of their origin, trampled on the customs which 
 their Jewish countrymen had immemorially reverenced 
 and observed, but who, in every country, set them- 
 selves in opposition to all the notions which education 
 had instilled, and habit familiarized, — who not only 
 objected to the religion of Egypt and Syria, but could 
 as little endure the sacred institutions of Rome and 
 Athens; and, while they witnessed and spoke of the 
 deities and rites of polytheism with undisguised and 
 unqualified feelings of horror, they shoAved, that in no 
 form, and under no modification, could they reckon it 
 lawful to engage in a thing so sinful. As every pro- 
 vince, city, and household, had their own proper deities 
 and their own peculiar rites, all joined in the common 
 complaint and animosity against the Christians, who 
 had begun to live after a new fashion, spurning the 
 time-hallowed observances of their family and their 
 birth-place.* And, as the religious ceremonies of 
 the heathen were so blended with the affairs of every- 
 day life, that whoever abstained from them could 
 not avoid the appearance of singularity in his lan- 
 guage and manners ; the studied avoidance of the 
 Christians from participating in many of the most 
 ordinary usages of society, was not only remarked as 
 strange, but sometimes violently resented as insulting, 
 
 * " Those are extreme!}' silly and foolish," says Celsus, "who suppose 
 that Greeks ami barbarians in Asia and Europe, and various parts of the 
 world, can ever unite in the same system of religion." 
 
NOVELTY OF THEIR RELIGION. 29^» 
 
 by the friends with whom they associated, and the 
 circles in which they found themselves.* 
 
 The newness of the Christian worship was the chief 
 cause of the opposition of the Romans. That people 
 were jealous of all innovations in religion ; and, al- 
 though it was a favourite maxim of their policy, to 
 the observance of which they attributed their univer- 
 sal prosperity, to enrol among the gods of the empire 
 the deities of all the people whom they conquered, 
 yet no foreign object of worship was ever admitted 
 into the Pantheon, ^\ithout a special enactment of the 
 Senate. Religion with them was entirely an engine 
 of State ; and, as the regulations that related to it 
 formed part and parcel of the general code of the 
 empire, the least deviation from the established cere- 
 monies of worship was regarded as a violation of 
 the laws. Some of their greatest statesmen had 
 pronounced it as a fundamental principle of Roman 
 government, that no individual should have separate 
 gods or separate worship for himself. Many of the 
 ancient philosophers, who saw through the absurdities 
 of the popular superstition, deemed it expedient and 
 necessary to inculcate a strict compliance with the 
 sacred customs of the country ; and, in the celebrated 
 speech of Maecenas to Augustus, that eminent minis- 
 ter, though a man of no religion himself, recommend- 
 ed it to his imperial master to detect and punish all 
 who introduced foreign religions, t not only out of 
 respect to the gods, but from fear of the strange 
 customs and practices that might arise from them. 
 " He did not," as Lord Hailes justly remarks, " coun- 
 sel the maintenance of the old worship as a reasonable 
 service, or the extirpation of Christianity as being a 
 false religion, but he approved of the one because it 
 was old and in possession ; and he reprobated the 
 
 * Ori^ien, lib. v. p. 247 ; Hailes' Minucius Felix, p. 14 ; Fleury, Moeurs 
 des Chretiens, p. 218. 
 t Hailes' Disquisitions, p. 157. 
 
206 TRIALS. 
 
 other, because it was a novelty."* It was on this 
 principle, Hhat all the emperors and politicians of 
 Rome, during the first three centuries, proceeded, — ■ 
 they saw that Christianity was a new religion, and 
 opposed to the established form of worship ; and, 
 therefore, as they could not incorporate Christ and 
 his doctrine Avith the prevailing system of idolatry^ 
 because the Christians peremptorily refused to com- 
 ply, they were led, according to all their notions of 
 expediency, to persecute and suppress it as an inno- 
 vation on the faith and worship of the empire. Be- 
 sides, the assemblies of the Christians, which were 
 held once at least every week, and frequently every 
 day, and at which, from the increasing progress of the 
 Gospel, great numbers congregated, were another 
 cause of offence against the Christians. " It is well 
 known," to use the words of the eloquent Gibbon, 
 " that Roman policy viewed with the utmost dis- 
 trust and jealousy, any association among its subjects, 
 and the privileges of private corporations, though 
 formed for the most harmless and beneficial purposes, 
 were bestowed mth a very sparing hand. The em- 
 peror Trajan refused to incorporate a company of 150 
 firemen for the use of the city of Nicomedia. He 
 disliked all associations." t Though the Christian 
 assemblies were of a totally different character from 
 those against which the prohibitory laws were issued, 
 and the followers of Christ never meddled with poli- 
 tical matters, they were accused of holding illegal 
 assemblies, and of forming secret conspiracies to over- 
 turn the empire and bring the State to ruin. Their 
 admirable love and charity which they cherished for 
 one another was considered the bond of a deep and 
 extensive combination. The tokens of affection with 
 which they welcomed Christian strangers, before they 
 
 * Hailes' Disquisitions, p. 150. This speech, which Dio Cassius ascribes 
 to Maecenas, is probably fictitioui, but it embodies the sentiments of Roman 
 statesmen. 
 
 t Decline and Fall, \v. 
 
OP HOLDING ILLEGAL ASSEMBLIES. 297 
 
 were personally known to tliem, were misinterpreted 
 into the watcliAvord of the party. Their alms were 
 regarded as means of seducing the poor, and draw- 
 ing them to join their cabal. Their miracles were 
 traduced as the most odious species of magic, — the 
 general society of Christians was vilified as a degraded 
 company of charlatans, who predicted future events 
 by different kinds of divination, and healed diseases 
 by the use of enchantments and barbarous words, — 
 their demeanour and proceedings were suspected of 
 political aims, by the jealous spirit of despotism, — 
 while the strong and general persuasion which pre- 
 vailed among them, that the end of the world and the 
 day of judgment were near at hand, was considered 
 an indication of hostility to the Roman government, 
 and of an extreme desire for its destruction. 
 
 What gave greater colour and reality to these 
 charges was, that they declined to take any part in 
 the public rejoicings with which the Romans cele- 
 brated the success of their arms. As these festive 
 occasions were always signalized by an extraordinary 
 pomp of sacrifices — by public shows, which were scenes 
 of unbridled debauchery — and by various manifesta- 
 tions of idolatry, the Christians not only kept aloof 
 ffom them, but devoted those seasons to more than 
 ordinary fasting and prayer, on account of the gross 
 iniquities which were then perpetrated by the empire. 
 They even avoided frequenting fairs, on account of 
 the criminal and disgusting sports for which those 
 scenes were infamous ; and if they ever repaired to 
 them, it was solely for the purpose of procuring some 
 indispensable article of personal or family comfort, or 
 purchasing a young slave to train him in the nurture 
 and admonition of the Lord. But to the Campus 
 Martins, where feats of agility and strength were 
 performed — to the amphitheatre, where all sorts of 
 shows were exhibited — to any of the favourite haunts 
 of social amusement, in which the ancient Greeks 
 
298 TRIALS. 
 
 and Romans spent so much of their time, and the 
 encouragement of which was reckoned a part of the 
 public duties of the magistrate, they would, on no 
 account, be prevailed on to go. They avoided and ab- 
 horred all these as essentially sinful in their character, 
 or dangerous from the temptations there presented ; 
 and instead of mingling with the great body of their 
 countrymen in those out-of-doors pastimes, they se- 
 cluded themselves at home or in their secret meetinofs 
 
 o 
 
 — mourninsf, while all the world around them was 
 engaged in festivity, and rejoicing on the days which 
 the superstitious heathens regarded as gloomy and 
 unfortunate from those disastrous events in their 
 national history that had happened at such times. 
 They were looked upon as enemies of their country, 
 destitute of all patriotic feelings, insensible to the 
 glory of the empire, and from their constant and, to 
 the heathens, strange, observations on the vanity of 
 earthly grandeur, as anxious for the end of the world, 
 which was another word for the overthrow of Rome, — 
 only to realize their dreams of future and imaginary 
 happiness in heaven. 
 
 Innocent though the great body of Christians were 
 of all charges of political crimes, it must be acknow- 
 ledged that some of them, through indiscretion in 
 their language and manners, did afford some ground 
 of suspicion that they were meditating secret designs, 
 which threatened the stability and welfare of the State. 
 Many, on their examination before the heathen tribu- 
 nals, allowed their passion to get the better of their 
 prudence, denouncing threats and judgments upon 
 the governors and the empire, as drunk with the 
 blood of the saints ; w'hile others, employing in their 
 answers the metaphorical language of Scripture to 
 signify their desire and hopes of a better country, and 
 a more perfect kingdom, incautiously gave a pretext 
 for the charges of political aims that were industri- 
 ously made against them. Procopius, for instance, the 
 
OF FORMING CONSPIRACIES. 299 
 
 lirst of the martyrs of Palestine, on being summoned 
 into the presence of the governor, and commanded to 
 offer incense to the gods, repHed, that he acknow- 
 ledged only one God, whom he was bound to worship 
 with such sacrifices as He had appointed. When 
 afterwards required to make libations to the four em- 
 perors, he said in the words of Homer, " the govern- 
 ment of many rulers is not good ; let there be only 
 one governor, one king." This quotation, which he 
 meant to apply in a spiritual sense, and to God as his 
 supreme governor, who alone had claims to be wor- 
 shipped by sacrifice, was interpreted by the judge in 
 a literal sense, and as treasonable to the reigning 
 monarch. Procopius, as a convicted traitor, was or- 
 dered for execution. A young Egyptian, when ap- 
 prehended and brought before the Roman proconsul 
 at Caisarea, being asked what was his country, replied, 
 that it was Jerusalem, the native country of the pious, 
 lying in the East, and towards the rising of the sun. 
 The governor, receiving to all his interrogations no- 
 thing but the same answer, was greatly perplexed, and 
 knowing, probably, little of the earthly Jerusalem, 
 which went then only by its new name of JEVvd Capi- 
 tolina, and having far less knowledge of the heavenly, 
 imagined that there could be no doubt but the Chris- 
 tians were about to establish a city in opposition to the 
 empire of Rome, and set himself to institute the most 
 anxious inquiries concerning that territory in the East, 
 which the Egyptian had spoken of,'"' From these 
 and other instances of imprudence wdiich sometimes 
 occurred, the accusation of being deeply concerned 
 in mischievous plots against the Roman government 
 probably took its rise. But a great variety of circum- 
 stances conspired to prepare the minds of men for 
 entertaining and bringing such charges against them ; 
 some invented them from malice, others propagated 
 them from ignorance or fear ; and among all the serious 
 
 * Eusebius, Martyrs of Palestine, chap. xi. Ibid., chap. i. 
 
300 TRIALS. 
 
 charges that were groundlessly circulated against the 
 first followers of Christ, there was none calculated to 
 be a source of greater trials to them, than the accusation 
 of being enemies to the State. 
 
 Akin to this charge, another and a very common 
 one was, that of being useless members of society. 
 This accusation seems to have been founded on the 
 very serious and spiritual habits of the early believers, 
 who dedicated almost all their leisure time to exer- 
 cises of devotion, and whose conscientious scruples 
 forbade them to purchase many of those works of art 
 and articles of spicery which were much in use among 
 their heathen contemporaries, or to undertake any of 
 those civil and military offices which were in any way 
 connected with idolatry. And as the calumny was 
 circulated with malicious industry, it proved a source 
 of very grievous distress to the Christians, rousing, as 
 it did, against them, not only the hostilicy of those 
 immense multitudes of their countrymen, whose live- 
 lihood arose from merchandise connected with the 
 popular superstitions, but dramng upon them often 
 the imperial suspicion and vengeance, as a class of 
 men who displayed a criminal disregard to the public 
 welfare. The utter groundlessness of the charge, 
 however, was shown by the circumstance, that the 
 Christians did not withdraw, like hermits, from the 
 world, and pass their lives in inactive solitude, but 
 were as diligent in working at their trades, in using 
 the common articles of consumption and luxury, in 
 mingling in the general intercourse of society, and 
 partaking of all innocent and lawful pleasures, as any 
 portion of their countrymen. " How can we be use- 
 less and unserviceable to the State," says Tertullian, 
 with characteristic force and eloquence ; " we are no 
 Brahmins, nor Indian gymnosophists, who live in the 
 depth of forests or in sequestered wildernesses ; we are 
 sensible of our obligations to our Creator, and despise 
 none of the good things which he bestows, though 
 
OF BEING USELESS MEMBERS OP SOCIETY. 301 
 
 we are careful to use them with temperance and so- 
 briety. We make use of the same things as others 
 do, — the same markets, shambles, baths, taverns, 
 shops, and other places of social intercourse. We go 
 to sea, dig and cultivate the ground, occupy ourselves 
 as merchants, exercise all mechanical arts, dispose 
 of our manufactures, like other men ; and how, then, 
 can we be less serviceable to those among whom we 
 live ? None have any cause of complaint against us, 
 but publicans, ruffians, venders of poison, magicians, 
 soothsayers, wizards, and astrologers, the profits of 
 which men, as well as their occupations, must be 
 hurtful to the State." * In short, acting upon the 
 sacred rule, " that every man should abide in the 
 calHng wherein he was called," the Christians showed 
 that their religion sanctified all the lawful occupa- 
 tions of life, and taught them, that so far from being 
 inconsistent with its spirit and principles to engage 
 in the affairs of the world, it was their duty and their 
 glory to honour God in the useful discharge of them ; 
 to be diligent in business, and, by the fruits of in- 
 dustry, " to provide things honest in the sight of all 
 men." There were some, indeed, who thought it un- 
 lawful to follow a soldier's profession ; and there were 
 many who, while they felt themselves perfectly at 
 liberty to enter both into military and civil employ- 
 ments, yet declined doing so on account of the oaths 
 that were then imposed at entrance, and the various 
 idolatrous ceremonies that happened to be connected 
 with them. The fault of a few, or the refusal of many, 
 on the ground of conscientious scruples from these 
 accidental circumstances, was immediately imputed 
 as a charge against the whole body of believers, who 
 were vilified as a set of men holding sentiments which 
 disqualified all who embraced them for the discharge 
 of the most necessary and important duties of social 
 life, and which, if they obtained a general circulation, 
 
 * TertuUian'» Apol., chap. xlii. 
 U 
 
302 TRIALS. 
 
 would inevitably weaken the hands of government, 
 and expose the empire to become the prey of every in- 
 vader. This objection, which, in the first ages, was 
 constantly thrown out against the Christians, is in- 
 sisted upon at great length by their learned opponent, 
 Celsus. " Does not the emperor justly punish you?" 
 says he, " for if all were to conduct themselves as you, 
 his majesty would be left alone, — no one would assist 
 him in matters of State, — no one would defend him 
 >vith his sword. If riches and honours are to be con- 
 demned as worthless, or avoided as sinful, — if men 
 are to submit with mean and pusillanimous tameness 
 to every insult, and expose their throat or their cheek 
 to every ruffian who threatens to attack them, society 
 could not exist, — the government would be at a stand, 
 or run into inextricable confusion, and hordes of bar- 
 barians would soon usurp dominion, and tyrannize 
 over an unresisting people."* To this calumny it was 
 triumphantly answered, that it proceeded from gross 
 ignorance of the Gospel, and a perverse interpretation 
 of the precepts, which forbid riches and honours 
 being made a primary pursuit, and the indulgence of 
 revenge a leading principle of action, to infer that no 
 man was to defend his life and property when in 
 danger, or devote his natural and acquired abilities to 
 the public service. Besides, as the grand object of 
 the Gospel was to produce a moral reform in the 
 heart of man, — the more its principles were imbibed 
 and its power was felt, society would be refined and 
 purified from every abuse, order would be established, 
 industry promoted, — all those violent and disorderly 
 passions would be subdued and banished, which lead to 
 fraud and injustice, to private oppression, or to public 
 ■wars, — rational freedom and universal tranquillity 
 would reign among men, and those who acted under 
 the genuine influence of Christianity, would be found 
 the most active servants of the public, the most dili- 
 
 * Celsus, book viii. 
 
OP BEING USELESS MEMBERS OF SOCIETY. 303 
 
 gent in the duties of private life, the most virtuous 
 and useful characters in every State. In confirmation 
 of this, they appealed to the well-known facts, that 
 many of their number were, during the whole of the 
 first three centuries, found both in the court and in 
 the camp ; that some Christians of rank filled honour- 
 able stations in the households of the emperors, and 
 that although the profession of arms might well, in 
 those days of unjust wars and insatiable love of con- 
 quest, be supposed uncongenial to their feelings and 
 habits, yet many complied with the call of duty to 
 enlist, and proved themselves among the bravest de- 
 fenders of the life and crown of the emperor. Thus, 
 in refutation of the bitter and calumnious invectives 
 of their enemies, that they were useless and unser- 
 viceable, the Christians showed that they were as 
 capable of performing all the offices of public and 
 private life, — nay, that they were even better quali- 
 fied to carry on the business and improve the habits 
 of society, than any other class of citizens. " Inquire," 
 says Origen, " into the lives of some of us ; compare 
 our former and our present manner of living, and 
 you will perceive to what impurities and impieties 
 many were habituated before they adopted our prin- 
 ciples. But ever since they embraced them, how just 
 and honest, how virtuous and regular they are become, 
 — husbands are most exemplary in their attention to 
 their wives, parents are most dutiful to their families, 
 masters kind and considerate to their servants, and 
 servants faithful to the trust, and indefatigable in the 
 service, of their masters. How can these, therefore, 
 be useless and pestilent members of society, who have 
 reclaimed multitudes from the grossest habits of vice 
 to a life of temperance and virtue, who set an example 
 to all of frugality, moderation and industry, Avho 
 refuse only to countenance extravagance, quarrelling, 
 and debauchery ?" ♦ 
 
 * Origen against Celsus, book i. 
 
804 TRIALS. 
 
 Again, the Christians were vehemently accused of 
 disloyalty, because they would neither swear by the 
 genius of the emperor, nor give religious homage to 
 his statues. Among the extravagant arts of flattery 
 which, in the latter days of the empire, the Romans 
 introduced, was that of ranking their rulers in the num- 
 ber of demi-gods, offering sacrifices to their images, 
 and bestowing upon them, even while living, all the 
 honours they were accustomed to render to divinities. 
 There were stated periods appointed for the annual 
 celebration of these rites in honour of the occupant of 
 the throne, — but there were many other times, such 
 as the return of the anniversary of his accession, the 
 achievement of a victory, or the performance of any 
 very popular act, in which the servile people were ever 
 ready to renew the incense of their adulation, and 
 marked their joy on such festive occasions, by ceasing 
 from all serious business, and giving themselves up 
 to the careless enjoyment of every species of pleasure. 
 Some, from morning to night, waited on the brutal 
 shows of the amphitheatre, while others betook them- 
 selves to the more harmless and elegant pastime of 
 decorating their houses with laurel, or illuminating 
 them with torches, while, during the whole day, all 
 classes were eager to demonstrate their loyalty, by 
 swearing by the genius of the emperor at every word, 
 in their ordinary conversation, and frequently pre- 
 senting themselves at his shrine, to give the usual 
 token of obeisance. The Christians did neither. Not 
 one of them was to be seen at the base of the imperial 
 statue, nor was the oath of loyalty ever. heard to 
 come from Christian lips, nor ever a branch of laurel, 
 nor a solitary torch, known to enliven a Christian 
 dwelling. Nay, it was even remarked that on such 
 occasions, when all the world was rejoicing, when every 
 house was a scene of gaiety, and every person bent 
 on merriment and sport, the believers fell back into 
 more than their usual grave and solemn demeanour. 
 
OP BEING DISLOYAL AND ATHEISTS. 305 
 
 Suspicion, therefore, strongly attached to them that 
 they were disloyal, and a charge of treason was ftis- 
 tened on the whole body of the followers of Christ, that 
 they were the enemies of Caesar and of the Roman 
 people. It was in vain that they protested against it 
 as an unfounded calumny, — declared that they could 
 not swear by the genius, or pay divine honours to the 
 image of the emperor, because such acts of idolatry to 
 a fellow-mortal, however dignified, were a violation 
 of the first precept of the law given by the one true 
 and living God. It was in vain that they appealed 
 to their daily habit of praying for long life to the em- 
 peror, and prosperity to the State, — to their exemplary 
 fidelity, and exactness in the payment of tribute, and 
 their submission to all the civil laws and institutions of 
 the empire. The ears of the emperor and his deputies 
 were preoccupied by the charge of their disaffection, 
 and want of the customary respect to the symbols of 
 royalty ; and no protestations of their firm and dutiful 
 allegiance could free them from the odium of being a 
 class of men with whom it was a hereditary principle 
 to refuse its stated honours to the crown. 
 
 A charge of even a more heinous and aggravated 
 description than disloyalty and disaffection to the 
 emperor, was made against the primitive Christians. 
 Men who lived and breathed in an atmosphere of pure 
 and exalted devotion, were charged with impiety, and 
 they, whose every action, and every enjoyment, was 
 hallowed by a recognition of the presence, and an in- 
 vocation of the blessing of God, were denounced as 
 Atheists. They had openly renounced all the existing 
 forms of worship in the empire. Instead of the thirty 
 thousand deities adored by the Pagans, they worshipped 
 but one; and that one they would not, even although 
 the refusal might cost them their lives, allow themselves 
 to blaspheme by giving him the name of Jupiter, the 
 reputed father and king of the gods. Many of the 
 Christians, instead of contenting themselves with a calm 
 
306 TRIALS. 
 
 and resolute avoidance of every thing connected with 
 idolatry, imprudently manifested their contempt for it, 
 spit upon the images, ran past the temples as fast as 
 they could for fear of pollution, scoffed at their worship, 
 and ridiculed their votaries. But this was done only 
 by a few imprudent and enthusiastic sectaries. The 
 great body of Christians abstained from every appear- 
 ance of insult on the superstition of their heathen 
 neighbours, but showed a firm determination to shun 
 all participation in any of its forms and observances. 
 At the same time, they exhibited in their rejection of 
 all the existing rights of religion, no visible proofs of 
 having substituted any thing else in their place. Every 
 people under the sun, whether Greek or barbarian, 
 could boast of places consecrated to the solemnities or 
 adorned with appropriate emblems of their worship. 
 Even the Jews, amid all the peculiarities of their 
 strange and unsocial faith, had reared a magnificent 
 edifice in honour of their Deity, in Avhich was a sacred 
 crypt for his special residence. But the Christians 
 had displayed no temples, no altars, no images, — 
 none of all the common and established accompani- 
 ments of religion ; in consequence of which they were 
 looked upon with feelings of the greatest horror and 
 aversion, as Atheists, by the heathen. The gross 
 minds of the vulgar could not entertain the sublime 
 idea of a God, who was represented by no visible 
 image, and worshipped under no corporeal form, — a 
 God, whose nature was spiritual, and whose presence 
 was universal. Nor could the philosophers, notwith- 
 standing their boast of having arrived at the know- 
 ledge of the Great First Cause, more easily than the 
 rest of the people, reconcile themselves to a worship 
 that made no appeal to the senses. Any little per- 
 ception their careless and contemptuous glance at 
 Christianity might have given them of the grand prin- 
 ciple of the divine unity inculcated by that religion, 
 appeared to them mixed up with so much enthusiasm 
 
OF BEING THE OCCASION OF PUBLIC CALAMITIES. 307 
 
 as repelled them from a closer investigation of the 
 Gospel; and perceiving the Christians, while they 
 recoiled from paying divine honours to the shades of 
 departed heroes and legislators, who had benefited 
 the world by their victories, their inventions, or their 
 counsels, worshipping as their God a man who had 
 died the ignominious death of a felon, they branded 
 them with the imputation of atheism in its worst 
 and most revolting form. From the very infancy of 
 Christianity, this calumny against its disciples was 
 extensively circulated in the heathen world. The 
 emperor Domitian put multitudes of Christians to 
 death, and confiscated their estates, on pretext of 
 atheism. By the ancient wits and satirists, whose 
 works have descended to our times, the followers of 
 Christ are invariably classed with Atheists and Epicu- 
 reans ; and, in spite of all the asseverations they made, 
 that they worshipped one God, the Maker of heaven 
 and earth, whose being and providence they demon- 
 strated by the clearest arguments, — in spite of all their 
 solemn protestations that in their sacred assemblies 
 they adored him, by singing praises to his JMajesty, 
 and by supplicating his mercy and his love, and that, 
 in their whole conduct, they studied to conform their 
 lives to His will, — in spite of all their elaborate apo- 
 logies, in which they proved that Christ was God 
 manifest in the flesh, the calumny still stuck to them; 
 "the atheism" was the infamous appellation by which 
 their society was designated, and themselves were held 
 up to the universal reprobation of the public, as the 
 vilest of men and the enemies of the gods.* 
 
 From the foregoing calumny there naturally sprung 
 another charge, which ever and anon burst out against 
 the primitive Christians — that they were the occasion 
 of all the public calamities with which the empire 
 was visited during the first three centuries. As every 
 
 * Cave's Prim. Christ., part i. chap. 1 ; Minucius Felix, p. 20; Justin 
 Martyr, Apol., p. 56. 
 
308 TRIALS. 
 
 state, province, and city, was supposed to have its own 
 guardian deity, who presided over its interests and 
 secured its prosperity, the practice of the Romans had 
 always been, on the conquest of a new people, to enrol 
 their g^ods in the Pantheon — to erect statues and in- 
 stitute rites to their honour, and that people were in 
 the habit of ascribing to this prudent and conciliat- 
 ing policy, their prolonged and universal supremacy 
 over the world. The leading statesmen of the time, 
 therefore, looked on Christianity, which proclaimed 
 war against all the objects and forms of idolatry, as 
 striking at a fundamental principle in the constitution 
 of the empire ; and the people, after the example of 
 their rulers, learnt to attribute all the disastrous events 
 which happened, whether in the natural or political 
 hemisphere, to the anger of the gods on account of 
 the apostasy of the Christians. ♦ The reception of 
 present and temporal benefits was all that the Pagans 
 wished for or expected from their gods ; and this 
 hope of securing temporal prosperity for adherence to 
 the national worship, seems to have increased in pro- 
 portion as the empire declined, and the evils multi- 
 plied which led to its fall. By those misfortunes, 
 the spirit of paganism was excited to vengeance, and 
 the Romans, who flattered themselves that they owed 
 the long- continued prosperity of their empire to the 
 special favour of the gods, charged the reverses of for- 
 tune, which they latterly experienced, on the depar- 
 ture of a vast body of the people from the observance 
 of the ancient worship. They clung to idolatry with 
 more tenacious fondness than ever — magnified the 
 benefits which they had derived from the faith of 
 their fathers, f and represented the calamities, which 
 
 • It is evident from Tertullian's Apology, that this accusation was very 
 strong and general in his time. — Chap. 26. 
 
 f The heathen, before this time, were often incensed at their gods, and 
 expressed their disappointed feelings in a very extraordinary manner, at 
 the calamities which they brought upon their worshippers. JFor instance, 
 when Augustus, during the Sicilian war, lost two of his fleets by storms, 
 he is said to have talien his revenge upoH Neptune, by not suffering him 
 
OF BEING THE OCCASION OP PUBLIC CALAMITIES. 309 
 
 in frightful number and variety befell the empire, as 
 the necessary consequence of the desertion of the na- 
 tional worship. The gods, they said, offended by the 
 defection of so many of the people, had withdrawn 
 from their natural care of the destinies of the empire, 
 and displayed their altered feelings towards mankind, 
 by the infliction of calamities, some of which were 
 hitherto unknown, and all of which had been but 
 rarely heard of at any former period. 
 
 The existence and extent of this complaint appears, 
 for the first time, in a memorable rescript of Anto- 
 ninus Pius to his subjects in Asia, in which, stating 
 his views of a persecution of the Christians which had 
 begun there, the emperor recommends the Pagans not 
 to take vengeance into their own hands, but to leave 
 all who neglected or despised the worship of the gods 
 to the visitation of Heaven itself; and it is remark- 
 able that, from the time of issuing that imperial letter, 
 the practice gained ground, and ever afterwards con- 
 tinued, of ascribing misfortunes of all sorts to the re- 
 sentment of the gods for the insults which the Chris- 
 tians offered to their name. Although the outbursts 
 of popular fury were occasionally checked by the pre- 
 dominance of better and more peaceful counsels, yet, 
 from the reign of that emperor, we find the feelings 
 of the heathen, at the rapid progress of Christianity, 
 constantly breaking out into some manifestation of 
 alarm ; and the writings of all the early fathers afford 
 the strongest proofs, that every evil inherent in the 
 condition of man was imputed to the prevalence of 
 the Christian religion, and looked upon as a judg- 
 ment on its professors. In the declining age of the 
 empire, misfortunes of every kind were experienced, 
 and the people, unwilling or unable, from gross igno- 
 
 to be carried in procession with the other gods at the Circensian games. 
 And when the beloved Germanicus died, the people of Rome were so 
 enraged, that they stoned the rery temples of the gods, and overthrevr the 
 altars; while some flung their household divinities into the streets Ire- 
 land's Lecture, p. 53. 
 
310 TRIALS. 
 
 ranee, to discover, or from mere servility, to admit, 
 the real causes, were in the habit of tracing them to 
 the vast number of people who, under the name of 
 Christians, had forsaken the temples, and neglected 
 the worship of the gods. As often as those calamities 
 occurred, they took vengeance on the unfortunate 
 Christians as the guilty cause. Thus, in the united 
 reign of Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Yerus, the sol- 
 diers, on their return from their Eastern campaign 
 under the latter, brought with them a pestilential 
 disease of a most malignant nature. Infection spread 
 far and wide in the capital. The mortality was most 
 alarming, — few families escaped Avithout the loss of 
 one or more of their members ; and the utmost indig- 
 nation prevailed during the continuance of the plague, 
 against the Christians, whose insults on their worship, 
 it was supposed, the gods were resenting by that ter- 
 rible visitation.* In the year 168, an extraordinary 
 flood had swelled the Tiber so far beyond its customary 
 channel, that the impetuous current not only swept 
 away numerous bridges, but destroyed many buildings, 
 among which were the public granaries, — a severe 
 famine ensued, which was revenged in many places 
 by the ebullition of popular feeling against the Chris- 
 tians. In the year 180, the whole of Italy suffered 
 from a grievous famine. The scarcity of food was 
 severely and extensively felt, — multitudes in all ranks 
 of the people dying of absolute starvation- Many 
 public buildings also were destroyed by alarming fires, 
 both in Rome and the provincial cities ; insomuch, 
 that by these united calamities, the minds of the popu- 
 lace were violently inflamed against the Christians. + 
 During the reign of Maximin the Thracian, in the 
 year 244, repeated shocks of earthquakes happened 
 in Asia Minor. Whole towns were swallowed up in 
 some places, stately and massive buildings were laid 
 in ruins in others, and the inhabitants, thrown into 
 
 • Burton's Lect., p. 132. t Ibid., p. 208. 
 
OF BEING THE OCCASION OF PUBLIC CALAMITIES. 311 
 
 the utmost consternation, lived day and night entirely 
 in the fields. All eyes — not only of the common 
 people, but even of the better and more reflecting 
 orders — were turned upon the Christians as the guilty 
 cause of the catastrophe ; their houses were attacked 
 and pillaged, their churches levelled with the ground, 
 and themselves driven to the soUtudes of the moun- 
 tains. * On the accession of Gallus to the empire, in 
 252, a most fatal pestilence had been raging for some 
 years ; and so strong and universal was the disposi- 
 tion among the contemporary Pagans to ascribe such 
 visitations to the anger of Pleaven, that we find even 
 the philosophic Porphyry venting the complaint, that 
 since the spread of the Christian doctrine, neither 
 ^sculapius, nor any other god, had given his wonted 
 assistance to Rome. Long afterwards, on the occa- 
 sion of a pestilence in the time of the imperial mon- 
 ster, Maximin, about 312, that prince, in answer to 
 a petition from the inhabitants of Tyre, dilated on 
 the many gratifying proofs the gods were then giving 
 of their satisfaction at the persecution and the prospec- 
 tive extinction, as he contemplated, of the Christian 
 faith. Pie mentioned, in particular, the salubrity of 
 the season, — the luxuriance of the harvest, — the total 
 absence of pestilence and earthquake, — the prevalence 
 of universal peace, — and the absence of the mani- 
 fold calamities which had pressed so heavily on all 
 parts of the empire, when pacific measures were pur- 
 sued towards the Christians, but which had so re- 
 markably disappeared on the commencement of hos- 
 tilities against them.t "• The Pagan reasoners of those 
 early days," to use the words of a learned writer, to 
 whom we have been much indebted for the illustra- 
 tion of this favourite calumny against the Christians, 
 " dated the origin of all the disasters of the empire 
 from the inauspicious birth of Christianity. Bellona 
 
 * Origen: Hom. on Matt, xxviii. ; Neander, p. 129. 
 t Euseb. Hist. Eccles., ix. 8. 
 
312 TRIALS. 
 
 became averse from her once favourite people, and 
 engaged them in hostiUties longer and more bloody 
 than before. The elements themselves partook in 
 promoting the Divine resentment, and either lost their 
 wholesome qualities, or purposely confounded them. 
 Nay, the minutest creatures, capable of destroying 
 or infesting the means of human subsistence, were 
 secretly instigated to a rival mischief, that revenge 
 might be more convincingly and variously taken on 
 the contemners of the gods. All evil was supposed 
 to come in the train of the Gospel ; and inordinate 
 bloodshed, pestilence, drought, famine, and tempests, 
 to be its proper consequences. Christianity invited 
 the swarms of locusts, — Christianity encouraged the 
 depredations of the vermin." * To the same purpose, 
 Tertullian, in an eloquent passage of his Apology, 
 which Gibbon has condescended to appropriate, says, 
 — " If a city be besieged — if any thing happen un- 
 fortunately in the fields, in the garrisons, in the islands, 
 forthwith they cry out, ' It is on account of the Chris- 
 tians.' They conspire the ruin of good men, and 
 thirst after the blood of the innocent, patronizing their 
 hatred with the vain pretext, that the Christians are 
 the cause of all public misfortunes and calamities. 
 If the Tiber overflow the walls — if the Nile do not, 
 according to its custom, inundate the plains of Egypt 
 — if the heaven do not keep its accustomed course — 
 if an earthquake happen — if a famine or a plague — 
 immediately an outcry is raised, ' Away with the 
 Christians to the lions.'" Thus were the poor, inno- 
 cent, and holy followers of Christ in primitive times, 
 made the scape-goats for all the offences of mankind, 
 — offered as victims on the altar of a blind supersti- 
 tion, with the view of averting calamities, many of 
 which were brought, in the natural course of Provi- 
 dence, on a luxurious and corrupt people, who had 
 wellnigh filled up the measure of their iniquities. 
 
 * Ireland's Lect., p. 61. t TertuUian's Apol., chap. i. 
 
OF BEING THE OCCASION OF PUBLIC CALAMITIES. 313 
 
 The Pagans, blindly attached to their own worship, 
 and taught to regard the Christians as enemies of the 
 gods, were naturally led to ascribe every evil, of what- 
 ever kind, that occurred in any part of the empire, to 
 the vast number of apostates, whom every day was 
 adding to the ranks of Christianity. The disposition 
 once acquired became a settled habit, and it affords a 
 curious example of the blind partiality and deceitful- 
 ness of the human mind in overlooking its own faults, 
 and detecting the worst offences in others, as well as 
 of that tendency which mankind in all ages have 
 shown, to mourn over the present times as degenerate 
 and bad, and to dwell with pleasing retrospect on the 
 past, as a period when existing corruptions and evils 
 were entirely unknown. Several works of consider- 
 able magnitude, and of a most learned character, were 
 composed by Christian writers for the express purpose 
 of repelling the invidious charge against the disciples 
 of Christianity. It is unnecessary to mention more 
 than the celebrated work of Augustine, — " Tbe City 
 of God," — and that of his presbyter Orosius, the de- 
 sign of which was, to compile from all former histories 
 and annals, whatever calamities, common or extra- 
 ordinary, natural or civil, were recorded for the ex- 
 perience of mankind. Nor was this undertaken 
 through the melancholy love of contemplating a mass 
 of human evil, but for the sake of convincing the 
 Roman people, that the disasters of which they 
 complained, as imexampled in their nature, and en- 
 tailed on their own age and nation by the malig- 
 nant influence of Christianity, were long since 
 familiar, not only to the rest of the world, but to 
 themselves. * 
 
 One should have imagined it was scarcely possible 
 for the enemies of the primitive Christians to caiTy 
 their inventive malice beyond the accusations we have 
 now been adverting to, — accusations which, whether 
 
 * Ireland's Lect., p. 75. 
 
314 TRIALS. 
 
 they referred to innovations in religion, or impiety in 
 practice, — to their being an unUiwful and dangerous 
 combination, or their being the guilty cause of the 
 calamities that afflicted the world, were calculated to 
 cover the Christian name with universal and indelible 
 infamy. But those charges, heavy and serious as they 
 were, were light and trivial in comparison of the gross 
 calumny affecting their moral character, which we 
 now proceed to consider ; and it remains a very strik- 
 ing proof at once of the careless ignorance of the 
 heathen respecting the real principles and views of 
 the Christians, and of the deeply prejudiced state of 
 the popular mind, when malice could invent, and sus- 
 picious credulity believe, imputations against them, so 
 revolting to humanity, and carrying, by their very 
 heinousness, an air of improbability on the face of 
 them. This calumny against the Christians arose from 
 the time and manner of holding their social assemblies, 
 and from some peculiarities in the solemn rites of their 
 worship, of which distorted or ill-understood reports 
 had got into wide circulation. It was the custom of 
 the early believers to meet for religious purposes in a 
 very secret manner, and in the night, — such a clan- 
 destine celebration of their worship having been at 
 first forced upon them by fear of their Jewish and 
 Pagan oppressors, and afterwards continued, as well 
 perhaps from habit as from a laudable desire to con- 
 form as nearly as possible to the first institution of 
 the Lord's Supper as a divine model. As the dark 
 and silent hour of midnight is seldom chosen for 
 assembling large bodies of people, except when their 
 objects are so unworthy and criminal as to require 
 profound concealment, the stolen meetings of the 
 Christians were not long in awakening the worst sus- 
 picions of their enemies, who, knowing well, that on 
 those occasions, when the rites of their own supersti- 
 tion were hid in impenetrable mystery from the eyes 
 of public observation, the most abominable atrocities 
 
OF GROSS IMMORALITIES. 315 
 
 — the most unnatural crimes were perpetrated, were 
 led to impute the same odious designs to the new sect 
 of the Christians, and to presume, that what was so 
 studiously done under favour of the darkness, was 
 similar in character to the gross and unbridled licen- 
 tiousness of which the temples of Ceres and Bacchus 
 were the infamous scenes. These foul suspicions, 
 which were suggested by their own guilty knowledge, 
 that the grossest excesses had often been committed 
 mider the venerable sanction of religion, were ap- 
 parently strengthened by some unhappy coincidences, 
 — by the revelations made of the conduct of the 
 Marcionites, Carpocratians, and other Gnostics, who 
 assumed the Christian name, and confessed with un- 
 blushing effrontery to the practising of the most incre- 
 dible impurities, — and by the suspicious testimony 
 of some slaves who, under fear of the torture, told 
 the most horrid tales of what they had seen in the 
 household of their Christian masters, and of what they 
 knew was nightly transacted in the churches of the 
 Christians. The charore was this : That at the cere- 
 mony of initiating a new convert into the mysteries 
 of the Christian society, an infant, disguised in a mass 
 of paste, was presented to the proselyte, who, with a 
 knife or bodkin in his hand, and in ignorance of the 
 real nature of the object before him, was required to 
 pierce several times violently into the crust. By 
 means of this, the child received mortal wounds, 
 which were soon announced to the initiated by the 
 streams of blood that oozed from the cake. The 
 reeking fluid, caught in basons, was greedily drank by 
 every one of the bystanders, who at the same time 
 breaking the paste, and tearing asunder the quivering 
 limbs it had hitherto concealed, devoured the horrid 
 morsel — thus binding themselves by a solemn pledge 
 to mutual secrecv. This disgusting ceremony being 
 finished, the brethren partook of a social entertain- 
 ment, at which men and women, parents and cliil- 
 
316* TRIALS. 
 
 dren, brothers and sisters, sat down, and after having 
 eaten and drank without restraint, at the time when 
 their hearts were merry and their passions inflamed 
 with excess of wine, a dog was tied to the sohtary 
 lamp that lighted the chamber, and some tempting 
 sop having been placed within his reach, and close 
 to the lamp, he was made to spring suddenly, by 
 which he overturned the light and involved the whole 
 assembly in darkness. That was the signal for the 
 indulgence of the most brutal appetites, and the perpe- 
 tration of atrocities of which nature abhors the idea.* 
 It is impossible to read without the deepest emotion, an 
 accusation of so gross and so incredible a nature, which 
 was industriously circulated and seriously believed to 
 the prejudice of our ancestors in the faith. Such was 
 the horror and contempt which the belief of it engen- 
 dered for all who bore the name of Christian, that they 
 were counted " the off-scouring of all things." Men 
 were ashamed, and often refused to speak on the streets 
 to their nearest relations and friends, when they became 
 Christians, — the mere profession of that odious name 
 was considered enough to condemn the holder of it, 
 and a universal feeling of indignation was created 
 against the whole body, which would have led to pro- 
 ceedings even more violent than any which public au- 
 thority ever commenced against them, had not another 
 impression gained ground, that the perpetrators of 
 crimes of such magnitude should be left to the sure 
 and signal vengeance of Heaven itself. The Jews were, 
 as usual, the principal authors and propagators of this 
 calumny, — and the charge, which arose at first per- 
 haps more from ignorance than malice, was founded, 
 in all probability, on a mistaken interpretation, or a 
 perverted report of the solemn words employed by our 
 Lord, when he instituted the Last Supper. The in- 
 vitation to eat his body and drink his blood, which 
 is received by believers in a purely spiritual accepta- 
 
 • Minucius Felix, p. 24. 
 
OP GROSS IMMORALITIES. 317 
 
 tion, but which the heathen understood in a literal 
 sense, was, there is no doubt, the origin of the rumour 
 which imputed to the Christians the horrid crime of 
 infanticide. In like manner, the other part of the 
 calumny, which charged them with Hcentiousness, is 
 to be traced to the warm and lively affection whicli 
 was so prominent a feature in the conduct of the 
 primitive Christians to one another. To all who 
 professed to be their brethren in Christ, whether they 
 were old and familiar acquaintances, or had met for 
 the first time, and their person, family, and history 
 were previously unknown, they gave outward tokens 
 of unbounded love, — no soorer did they meet sucli 
 persons, than they imprinted on their cheek the holy 
 kiss, and evinced a pleasure and joy in their society 
 altogether beyond the power of the natural mind to 
 comprehend. " How is this," they used to say, " how- 
 can the Christians recognise as brethren tliose on 
 whom they never before set their eyes?" The heathen 
 looked upon it as an inexplicable mystery, — the bond 
 of feeling by which Christians of every country and 
 of every name were united in the closest fellowship, 
 and they were tempted to imagine that there were 
 some privy marks on their bodies, by which they at 
 once knew and loved each other, and concealed, under 
 the names of brother and sister,* the unhallow^ed prac- 
 tices to which they were said to be addicted. The 
 Christians repudiated the calumny with unrestrained 
 indignation. They appealed to their whole conduct, — 
 to all the inquiries which the tribunals instituted into 
 their character and habits, and to the knowledge of 
 their neighbours and servants, who were intimately 
 acquainted with their most private and every-day life, 
 whether the slightest circumstance was ever known 
 to justify the imputation of such horrid crimes ; and 
 it is remarkable, that although they challenged re- 
 
 * The Romans employed the expression, " brother and sifter," in a 
 west impure sense. See Martial's Epigrams, book ii., epig. 4. 
 
 X 
 
318 
 
 TRIALS. 
 
 peatedly the closest investigation, and insisted on 
 being tried by a court of justice, — yet their enemies 
 never dared to make an impartial scrutiny into their 
 lives, — ^nay, although several female slaves were ex- 
 amined by torture, with the view of tempting them 
 to criminate their Christian masters, nothing could 
 be obtained even from the weakness of the sex, 
 beyond some incoherent and unsatisfactory stories, 
 which the judges were well persuaded were wrung 
 from them through intensity of anguish, to cast any 
 stain upon the moral character of the Christians. It 
 was in vain that, in their apologies, and in their 
 daily mingling in society, they protested the impossi- 
 bility of their perpetrating such enormities, holding 
 the principles that they did, — they who believed that 
 none but the pure could see God, give themselves 
 up to brutal lusts, — they indulge themselves with a 
 sight of the gladiatorial contests, — ^gratify an unnatu- 
 ral appetite with viands of human flesh, — pollute 
 their bodies and souls with unheard-of impurities, 
 who know that the law of God required, not only 
 purity in the outward conduct, but in the thoughts and 
 devices of the heart ! Their apologies were read by 
 few, — their remonstrances were little attended to, — 
 their principles were disbelieved ; and they who were 
 in that corrupt and degenerate age, the only lights of 
 the world, the only salt of the earth, were represent- 
 ed as on a level with the sensual beasts. * With 
 no less shameful disregard to truth, the heathen 
 aspersed Christianity on account of the weakness 
 and ignorance, the meanness and poverty, of its early 
 disciples. Confounding them, as they universally 
 did at first, with the Jews, they expressed contempt 
 for the Christians, as belonging to a people who had 
 long been proverbial in the world for their foolish and 
 obstinate credulity. And when they found that the 
 whole talk of the Christians related to an executed 
 
 * Minucius Felix, p, 22; Neander, p. 85 ; Watson's Apol., Let. 6. 
 
OF BEING POOR AND IGNORANT. 319 
 
 criminal, who they asserted was still alive, while the 
 other Jews as stoutly maintained that he was dead, 
 and that the former were the causes of many seditious 
 tumults, they felt at a loss whether most to despise 
 and scorn them for the absurdity of their opinions, 
 or the fiagitiousness of their conduct. Moreover, they 
 despised the Christians as destitute of all learning and 
 education, without pretensions to reasoning, eloquence, 
 or any of the admired arts of persuasion, as demand- 
 ing blind faith in their assertions, while, at the same 
 time, the only evidence they adduced of the truth of 
 their statements was, the performance of a few feats 
 of magic, and courting the society, not of the wise, 
 and learned, and discerning, in whose presence they 
 never ventured to introduce their extravagancies, but 
 of silly women, children, and slaves, whose weak 
 judgments were easily misled, and whose imaginations 
 were dazzled by the power of their enchantments. 
 " In public, and before people of the least discrimina 
 tion," says the heathen in Minucius Felix, " they are 
 silent, and have not a word to say for themselves or 
 their novelties; but the moment they get into comers, 
 and are surrounded only by the ignorant vulgar, or a 
 company of boys and credulous women, they talk and 
 boast at the greatest rate." Still farther, the heathen 
 despised the Christians as consisting wholly of the 
 foulest dregs of society, their ranks being filled, not 
 only by tailors, weavers, shoemakers, and illiterate 
 mechanics of every description, but the most abject 
 beggars, — men who had not houses to live in, and 
 scarce decent clothing to cover them, and whose 
 Avhole talk was an unintelligible jargon, as low in 
 sentiment as nide in language. In short, they look- 
 ed down upon the Christians with scorn, not only 
 for the foul calumnies that were fastened on their 
 moral character, but for the extreme wretchedness and 
 vulgarity of their worldly condition. " We shall in. 
 vain look," they said, " for a solitary individual, whose 
 
320 TRIALS. * 
 
 circumstances in life, or whose education, could give 
 some appearance of respectability to their low and 
 miserable association." The whole charge was as 
 false as it Avas heartless, — for, not to mention that 
 the truth of a religion is not to be determined bj 
 the character of those who embrace it, and that the 
 faith of the Christians was to be judged by its own 
 evidence — not by the temporal state of the primi- 
 tive believers — the slightest inquiry would have been 
 sufficient to set the calumny for ever at rest ; and 
 although, from the nature of the case, the majority of 
 the early believers were of the lower orders, who dwelt 
 in obscure houses, yet, it was not true, either that 
 they spoke of Christianity only in secret, or that there 
 were no converts belonging to the higher and educated 
 classes. It was notorious, as appears from the works 
 of all the Fathers, that the Christian doctrine and 
 Christian worship were not confined to private houses 
 and remote villages, cr brought forward only in the 
 hearing of the illiterate and the obscure ; but that it 
 was frequently and publicly proclaimed in the syna- 
 gogues of the Jews, and at the temples of the heathen, 
 — in the streets and market places of the most popu- 
 lous cities in the world, — before the learned senate of 
 Athens, — and within the walls of the imperial palace 
 of Rome. Moreover, although not many rich, not 
 many mighty, not many noble, were called, yet, even 
 in the first ages. Christians could boast of having 
 among the brethren, many persons of philosophy and 
 learning, of wealth and influence, of equestrian and 
 patrician rank, as is fully attested by a multitude of 
 heathen documents which have come down to our 
 (iay. Pliny found Christians in his province of every 
 condition. Tertullian remonstrated with the Roman 
 governors on their sanguinary proceedings, as certain 
 to banish or destroy the best citizens in all places and 
 offices of the State, — in the council, the armies, the 
 senate, and courts of judicature. ►'Similar evidence is 
 
OF BEING POOR AND IGNORANT. 321 
 
 afforded by the famous edict which was issued about 
 250 years after Christ, decreeing that all knights 
 professing Christianity should be degraded, and that 
 women of rank should have their estates confiscat- 
 ed. The sneer, therefore, against the Christians, that 
 they were universally a band of rude mechanics and 
 wretched slaves, was raised without any good or suf- 
 ficient grounds. It was no wonder, indeed, that mul- 
 titudes of the early believers were people of ignoble 
 birth and humble condition, — not only because they, 
 who are eminent for rank, distinguished for attain- 
 ments, and possessed of power, are few, comparatively 
 with the rest of mankind, but because persons, whose 
 ambition was not set upon the honours, and whose 
 hearts were not corrupted by the pleasures of the 
 world, were more likely to embrace the humble and 
 self-denying faith of the Gospel. Nor was it any 
 greater wonder that the first teachers of Christianity, 
 who believed it was a message of salvation for all classes 
 of fallen and sinful men, should adapt their discourses 
 to the weak capacities and the homely language of 
 the artisans and the women, — the young people and 
 the slaves, who waited on their ministry. But this 
 circumstance, so far from reflecting any, even the 
 slightest, discredit on the Christians, tends to their 
 highest honour ; and it is the peculiar glory of their 
 religion, that, while the poor and labouring classes 
 were neglected by the philosophers and statesmen of 
 antiquity, and left to live and die w^ithout any bene- 
 volent attempts to raise them above the grossest igno- 
 rance, — to the poor the Gospel was preached. * 
 
 Such were some of the principal — for they are not 
 by any means the Avhole — calumnies which the mali- 
 cious spirit of the Pagans put in circulation against 
 the followers of Christ. The whole world was ranged 
 in opposition to the Christians, — the populace as well 
 
 * Birgham, vol. i., p. 22; Watson's Apol., Letter iv. ; Minucius Felix, 
 p. 7 ; Cave's Piim. Christians, part i, chap. ii. ; Fleury, Mceurs des Chre- 
 tiens, p. 7. 
 
322 TRIALS, 
 
 as men in power and authority, — beggars as well as 
 philosophers, — peasants as well as princes, united in a 
 common feeling of deep and inextinguishable hatred 
 to the believers, Avhom they loaded with every oppro- 
 brious epithet, and held up as objects of universal 
 infamy. Sometimes they described them as a band 
 of secret and dangerous conspirators ; at other times, 
 as a despicable company of Eastern magicians ; or a 
 set of impious wretches, who were pursued by the 
 vengeance of Heaven, and on whose account the world 
 was frequently visited with calamities. Now, they 
 vilified them as a class of gloomy, moping, fanatics, 
 who, disliking the business of life, spent all their time 
 in psalmody and prayer ; and then, as the common 
 enemies of mankind, or monsters of iniquity, who had 
 invented and practised new forms of wretchedness. 
 The invention of these calumnies was the masterpiece 
 of Satan, as nothing contributed more formidable ob- 
 stacles to the propagation of the faith and the increase 
 of its disciples, than the fear of that odium which 
 universally followed the name of Christian, and the 
 deep and bitter prejudices which the circulation of 
 those slanders every w^here created against the Chris- 
 tian body. What the combined persecution of princes 
 and their deputies, priests and the populace, could 
 never have effected by the sword, was surely and 
 speedily accomplished by the artful tongue of defa- 
 mation. Thousands after thousands might have been 
 put to the torture, and have endured all the lingering 
 and refined cruelties which inventive malice could 
 suggest ; and yet the indomitable spirit of the Chris- 
 tians was not in the least subdued or crushed. The 
 more oppressed by the strong arm of power, the more 
 they multiplied, — the blood of the martyrs became 
 the seed of the Church. But the diabolical plan of 
 blasting the reputation of those against whose char- 
 acters no imputation could be fastened, met with 
 instant and astonishing success ; and never did their 
 
OF BEING POOR AND IGNORANT. 323 
 
 enemies resort to weapons more powerful and deadly, 
 than when they threAv out calumnies against Chris- 
 tianity and the habits of its professors. Eventually, 
 however, the wise providence of God rendered even 
 these conducive to the extension of the Gospel and 
 the peace of believers, for they were the occasion of 
 calHng forth a number of learned defences and his- 
 torical apologies, which not only established more 
 strongly the evidences of the Christian faith, but dis- 
 closed to the admiration of the world virtues and ex- 
 cellencies, which, but for the opposition and calumnies 
 of their enemies. Christian humility would have for 
 ever concealed from the knowledge of mankind. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 EXTREME ANXIETY OF MAGISTRATES AND OF PRIESTS TO ENSNARE CHRIS- 
 TIANS INTO IDOLATRY — DIFFERENT MOTIVES OF EACH — SNARES LAID 
 TO INDUCE THEM TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE GODS— TO PART WITH THB 
 SCRIPTURES, OR TO READ THEM ONLY AT CERTAIN TIMES, AND ON CER- 
 TAIN TERMS— TO GET THEM TO SACRIFICE — SPRINKLING GOODS IN THB 
 MARKET — MEATS PREPARED NOT BY COOKS, BUT PRIESTS — EVANGELI- 
 CAL LIBERTY IN EATING MEATS OFFERED TO IDOLS — COURAGEOUS 
 REMONSTRANCE TO JULIAN — POLLUTING FOUNTAINS — BOWING TO STA- 
 TUES OF GODS AND EMPERORS— SWEARING BY THE EMPEROR'S GENIUS 
 — TRAINING CHRISTIANS TO BOX — TEMPTATIONS TO LICENTIOUSNESS. 
 
 Every age of the Church has had its pecuhar temp- 
 tations, and the besetting sin to which the primitive 
 Christians were exposed, was that of denying their 
 faith, and relapsing into the acknowledgment and 
 worship of the heathen gods. In their times the 
 public and continued profession of Christianity was 
 made amid a combination of difficulties and trials, of 
 which we, in this land and age of religious liberty, can 
 scarcely form an idea ; and, after the details we have 
 given in the preceding pages of the cold-blooded cruel- 
 ties inflicted on the persons, and the horrid calumnies 
 propagated against the name of Christians, no reader 
 can wonder that, under the united terrors of imperial 
 vengeance and popular odium, multitudes of weak 
 and unstable Christians were tempted to desert from 
 the ranks of the faithful, and seek the enjoyment of 
 life and property under the shade of the old super- 
 
SNARES FOR CHRISTIANS. 325 
 
 stition. The Pagan leaders, however, though at all 
 times bitter and determined in their opposition to 
 Christianity, did not always pursue the same merci- 
 less course of policy towards its disciples. Observ- 
 ing that death, instead of inspiring terror, was, of all 
 things, most welcome to men who looked to it as the 
 pathway to their much talked of paradise above ; and 
 finding that, " as opposition usually gives opinion 
 strength," the numbers of the Church were replenish- 
 ed with new recruits as fast as the old disappeared, 
 the governors and priests resolved on other means of 
 crushing the rival religion. At times they sheathed 
 the sword of persecution, — silenced the tongue of de- 
 famation, — recommended every where the adoption 
 of mild and conciliating measures, and professed a 
 disposition to be satisfied with the slightest act of con- 
 formity, on the part of the Christians, to the national 
 worship. Many of the magistrates, who could not 
 stifle their feelings of humanity, lamented the prodi- 
 gal waste of blood, and the loss of so many valuable 
 lives to the service of the commonwealth, and were 
 really anxious for a pretext to put an end to the 
 sanguinary proceedings which had been so long car- 
 ried on against the followers of Jesus on account of 
 their religion. Looking upon the apostasy of the 
 Christians from the temples and worship of their 
 fathers as a popular delusion, which, if left to it- 
 self, would soon die away, they gave out that they 
 would spare the lives of all who were charged with 
 the crime of Christianity, on terms which implied 
 the easiest possible submission to the religion of 
 the empire. For themselves, they did not care about 
 one form of faith more than another, — the truth ot 
 the falsehood of polytheism and Christianity they 
 never made a subject of serious inquiry. But knowing 
 the one to be interwoven with the political constitu- 
 tion of Rome, and the other to be an innovation on 
 its most venerable institutions, they deemed it a matter 
 
326 TRIALS. 
 
 both of duty and expediency to require all their sub- 
 jects to honour and obey the laws, while, at the same 
 time, to gain even the ready compliance of the fana- 
 tics, they required only such tests as they imagined 
 none could have a shadow of excuse for refusing. 
 
 The priests and other advocates of Paganism pur- 
 sued the same line of policy, though from very differ- 
 ent views. Impelled by their zeal for the honour of 
 the national worship, they could not be at rest till 
 they saw wanderers from the temples reclaimed to 
 their ancient habits, and the altars of their favourite 
 divinities lighted up with their wonted splendour ; 
 and the more sincere were their prejudices, the more 
 bigoted their attachment to the images and rites 
 which they had received as a sacred inheritance from 
 their fathers, the more ardent was their desire, the 
 more indefatigable their efforts to gain over open or 
 suspected enemies of the gods to give some tokens of 
 homage to idolatry. Bitter as was their animosity 
 against the Christians, and insatiable as w^as their 
 thirst for the blood of that odious people, they felt 
 more delight at the defection of a single follow^er of 
 Christ, than if the whole society could have been an- 
 nihilated at a single blow. Strange as it may appear, 
 they often betrayed an intenser eagerness, and took 
 more pains, to ensnare weak and wavering believers 
 to apostatize, than, at other times, to compass their 
 destruction ; and they showed, by their unbounded 
 satisfaction at the success of their efforts, that they 
 looked upon a solitary deserter from the Gospel as 
 of the last importance to their tottering cause. The 
 reason is obvious. Persecution might rid them of a 
 class of persons whose presence was an annoyance, and 
 whose habits were a standino- censure of theirs. But 
 the apostasy of Christians implied a preference of the 
 Pagan worship to that which they had abandoned. 
 The death of the multitudes who, in times of persecu- 
 tion, sealed their attachment to Christianity with their 
 
SNARES FOR CHRISTIANS. 327 - . 
 
 blood, would remain a lasting testimony to the present 
 and future ages, that the martyrs in its cause con- 
 sidered it the only true religion, and one of suflicient 
 importance to justify the surrender of their lives rather 
 than deny it. The appearance among idolaters of 
 Christian deserters, was a proclamation to the world 
 that the cause in which they had embarked was false, 
 and gave an appearance of triumph to the national 
 faith. Hence the most secret and subtle arts were put 
 in practice to accomplish so desirable an end. Every 
 method which lov/ cunning or crafty policy could de- 
 vise, was resorted to in order to ensnare Christians into 
 compliance with heathen superstitions. No matter 
 in what particular this act of conformity was testified 
 — whether by a momentary presence in a heathen 
 temple — by a passing bow to an image — by wearing 
 a sprig of laurel on a public festival, or by throw- 
 ing a morsel of salted cake to the household gods on 
 crossing the threshold, the wishes of their judges were 
 gratified — their object was attained — and they pro- 
 mised the Christians not only their lives, but toleration 
 for their religion on such easy and trifling conditions. 
 
 It may interest the reader to illustrate, by a few 
 examples of the compliances most commonly required 
 at the tribunals, the artful and insidious manner in 
 which the judges tried to waylay and surprise the 
 Christians into acts of idolatry. 
 
 In no respect was the religion of the Christians 
 more opposite to that of the heathens, than in the 
 ideas they respectively inculcated about the proper 
 object of worship. The heathens, believing in a mul- 
 tipHcity of gods, were ever ready to pay homage to 
 the deities of others. Increase the list to as great an 
 extent as might be, their devotion was as unbounded 
 as were the objects that claimed their worship, and 
 go to whatever place, or mingle with whatever people 
 they might, they deemed it their duty to comply 
 with the rites, and to acknowledge the supremacy of 
 
328 TRIALS. 
 
 the guardian deity of tlie land. Among the Romans, 
 who were the masters of the world, every form of re- 
 ligion that was any Avhere known, every deity that was 
 worshipped under the sun — from the cats, crocodiles, 
 and garden-stuffs of Egypt, to the unknown God, 
 whom the Athenian sages honoured with an image, 
 found " a local habitation and a name ; " and accus- 
 tomed, therefore, as the rulers and people were, to 
 offer indiscriminate honours to all, under whatever de- 
 nomination of divinity they went, they could not but 
 see, with the utmost astonishment, the refusal of the 
 Christians to worship more gods than one. As they 
 could not imagine it was any crime to offer a hecatomb 
 to the gods of other nations, they looked upon it as a 
 species of foolish and obstinate bigotry in that class 
 of people, not to bow the knee to any other god but 
 their own. Tliey were too ignorant— of religion, to 
 appreciate the feelings of the Christians, who, believ- 
 ing the Gospel to be the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth, could not but look upon every 
 other mode of faith as falsehood and error, — and of the 
 character of Him who is a jealous God, to perceive 
 any sin in rendering that worship and glory to any 
 other that was due to him alone. This, therefore, 
 was a point on Avhich their heathen persecutors tried 
 by every artifice to assail and overcome their resolu- 
 tion. They invited them to come and see some an- 
 cient curiosities in the temples — if they did not wish 
 to enter the temples, they might only make a verbal 
 confession of their belief in the existence of the heathen 
 gods ; or if they still scrupled to do that, the easier 
 alternative was offered them of simply pronouncing 
 the names of Jupiter or Juno, Saturn or Minerva, or 
 any of the occupants of the Pantheon they chose. 
 Or varying this insinuating mode of assault, surely, 
 they said, the Christians cannot but acknowledge 
 that Apollo must be very beneficent, when he con- 
 fers, from day to day, such an inestimable blessing as 
 
TO VISIT THE TEMPLES. 32& 
 
 light on the world — and Ceres must have inexhaust- 
 ible resources, who, from a few paltry seeds, 3'ield5 
 80 plentiful a return in harvest — and Neptune must 
 have prodigious power, that stills the raging hillows 
 of the ocean — and Mars, the great ancestor of the 
 Romans, possess invincible powers, since his fond 
 partiality has awarded universal triumph to the arms 
 of his descendants. In such indirect and artful ways 
 of speaking, the heathens often endeavoured to extort 
 from the Christians some acknowledgment of their 
 gods, which they would instantly turn to account. 
 But not the slightest concession of the kind could they, 
 with all their subtleiy, obtain, and by no admission, 
 either expressed or implied, could the Christians be 
 brought to place the false and imaginary objects of 
 heathen worship on a level with the Maker and 
 Governor of heaven and earth. Among many other 
 anecdotes that might be introduced to prove this, one 
 may suffice. A bishop of the name of Dionysius, 
 being summoned into the presence of the governor of 
 the place, was desired not to abandon the Christian 
 worship, but only to express his belief in the exist- 
 ence of other gods than his own — he was promised 
 life, hberty, and honour, as the reward of his con- 
 fession. But he stedfastly refused. "■ What in the 
 name of wonder," exclaimed the magistrate, " can 
 prevent you, supposing the God of the Christians is 
 really one, from worshipping him along with others, 
 whom all men from time immemorial have adored ?" 
 Dionysius answered, — " We cannot worship any other 
 god;" and the judge, smiling with contempt at the 
 weakness of a man whom, though having an appear- 
 ance of respectability, he considered the dupe of an 
 absurd and obstinate delusion, dismissed him hastily 
 from the tribunal. 
 
 Another snare, which was very frequently laid for 
 the Christians, was, trying to get them to surrender 
 the whole or parts of the Scriptures. For a long 
 
330 TRIALS. 
 
 time the Pagans were not aware of the existence of 
 the Book of God, as they never dreamed that the 
 rehgion of Christ was taught in a sacred book, but 
 ere long they discovered the immense value that was 
 set upon it, and felt corresponding anxiety to get it out 
 of the way. In the later times of persecution, the 
 possession of a copy of the Scriptures was punished 
 as a capital crime, and the most anxious endeavours 
 were made to rob the Christians of a volume, from 
 which, it was found, they imbibed all the peculiari- 
 ties of their sect. Greater pains are not taken in the 
 present day for circulating the Scriptures all over the 
 world, than were employed in those times of affliction 
 to the Church for the suppression and destruction of 
 the holy book. Vast multitudes of copies were seized 
 and contemptuously destroyed, and sometimes, by 
 a refinement of cruelty, the owners of the precious 
 treasure were compelled to pile them in a heap, and, 
 with their own hands, set them on fire. But the 
 great majority of Christians refused to part with what 
 they valued more than all the treasures of the East, 
 and concealing them under ground in old chests, and 
 in various secure repositories, bade defiance to the 
 most diligent researches of their enemies. Being thus 
 baffled and disappointed, the heathen resorted to arti- 
 fice in order to get the sacred book of the Chris- 
 tians into their hands. Perhaps, they hinted, the 
 followers of Christ being, for the most part, poor, 
 might have no other books, but they would be very 
 willing to give them others, as large and more enter- 
 taining than the one they parted with ; or if, from 
 long habit, the Christians had become attached to 
 that species of reading, and could not bear to give up 
 an old and favourite occupation, — if they could not 
 part with the whole volume of the Scriptures, their 
 assailants hinted that they were Milling, as they did 
 not wish to be too hard in their demands, to accept 
 of any particular book, or fragment of a book, that 
 
TO SURRENDER THE SCRIPTURES. 331 
 
 belonged to the Scriptures, and that they might retain 
 the rest in their own possession, and make any use of 
 it they pleased, provided only that they indulged in 
 reading it privately. Or, if they were averse to part 
 with the Scriptures, they expressed their readiness to 
 take any other book in place of them, if they would 
 surrender it into the hands of the officers publicly, as 
 a sort of pledge in the eyes of the people of their 
 having renounced the forbidden volume. Sometimes 
 they agreed to let the Christians retain their Scrip- 
 tures if they would only promise never to mention the 
 name of such a book to any of their heathen neigh- 
 bours, or speak of it so as to excite their curiosity and 
 desire to peruse it, or quote any of the doctrines and 
 promises contained in it. At other times, they offered 
 them the privilege of retaining the Scriptures, if, dur- 
 ing the day, the}'^ would lock them up, or put them 
 constantly aside till the dark hour of midnight, hop- 
 ing that the poverty of the Christians would not afford 
 them the expense of light, or the fatigues of labour 
 produce a disinclination to steal much or frequently 
 from the hours of repose. Some governors had no 
 objections to the Christians possessing copies of the 
 Scriptures, provided they never read them in com- 
 pany, never explained them to their children and ser- 
 vants, and, above all, never listened to them in their 
 stated assemblies of worship, or engaged in singing 
 those portions of them which were reduced to a me- 
 trical form, and were always found to be the most 
 attractive to the memory and the feelings. Others, 
 again, freely allowed not only the possession but the 
 perusal of the Scriptures, either in private or in the 
 family, only they required that, for the privilege of 
 that literary enjoyment, the owner or reader should 
 make a confession that he did not regard the pro- 
 phecies of Isaiah and Jeremiah, the Gospels of the 
 Evangelists, or the Epistles of Paul and Peter, in any 
 other hght than the Poems of Homer and Virgil, the 
 
532 TRIALS. 
 
 Letters of Cicero and Pliny, the Annals of Livy and 
 Tacitus, which were merely human, though excellent 
 and admired compositions. Few, it may well be sup- 
 posed, to whom these propositions were made, would 
 comply with terms which deprived the Scriptures of 
 all their value, and which, besides doing dishonour 
 to their Divine Author, required them to conceal 
 the truth in unrighteousness. But the character and 
 variety of these alternatives betray the intense desire 
 of the heathen to dispossess the Christians of the 
 Word of eternal life, or, when they could not succeed 
 in that attempt, to grant toleration to read it on such 
 conditions as would blast the character of the be- 
 lievers, and destroy the efficacy of the truth. 
 
 Another object to which all the arts of the heathen 
 magistrates were directed, was that of trying to en- 
 snare the Christians to sacrifice. Knowing that they 
 abhorred all splendour, images, and licentious paint- 
 ings, they invited them to come to the temples on a 
 particular day, when they promised that there would 
 he little of worldly pomp, and nothing of sensual 
 impurity, to offend the mortified taste of a Christian 
 observer. Or, if that were too much to expect, they 
 required only the simple condition of his repairing once 
 to offer sacrifice ; and, if he considered the sacrifice 
 of a lamb, a kid, or a hog, too high a token of respect, 
 they assured him that they would be quite satisfied 
 with his throwing a few grains of incense into the 
 embers or live charcoal that lay upon the altars.* No 
 test was more frequently required than this, as it 
 seems to have been long accounted by the enemies of 
 the Christians the easiest and most accommodating 
 terras that could be imagined ; and the severity of 
 the measures consequent on refusal was often ex- 
 tremely great, in proportion to what was deemed an 
 obstinate contempt of the clemency and liberality that 
 were shown them. In the hottest periods of persecu- 
 
 * Hailes' Disquisitions, p. 102. 
 
TO SACRIFICE. 333 
 
 tion, ^\\len the life of a, Christian was as little thought 
 of as that of a dog, multitudes, who were daily drag- 
 ged to the tribunals, were, by the humane magistrates, 
 generally offered the alternative of death or throwing 
 the smallest grain of incense into the fires of the altars, 
 
 a way of escape which they thought no criminal 
 
 in his senses would hesitate for a moment to embrace ; 
 — and to the pastors, deacons, and other Christians of 
 rank and influence, who had the distinction above 
 their brethren of commonly lying for a considerable 
 time in confinement, the opening of the prison doors 
 was promised, if they would only condescend to give 
 a small contribution of incense to the altars, as an out- 
 ward token of respect to the gods of their country. 
 To enable the magistrates to make good these pro- 
 mises, it was customary for them, particularly in the 
 reign of Diocletian, to erect their tribunals along the 
 walls, or within the porches of the temples, where 
 altars were accessible, or else small portable altars 
 were placed in the courts of judicature, close to the 
 judge's bench, that every litigant might offer incense 
 as a necessary preliminary to the hearing of his cause.* 
 A firm and persevering refusal to comply with this 
 little foiTnality of the court, as it was called, was look- 
 ed upon as the evidence of a bad character, and the 
 symptom of a bad cause ; while, on the other hand, 
 the person who, on entering with a free and bold 
 hand, lifted a little incense and strewed it on the 
 burning charcoal, met with the marked approbation 
 of the magistrate, and with shouts of applause from 
 the creatures constantly kept around him for the 
 purpose of trumpeting the fame or infamy of those 
 Christians who purchased their Uves by an unworthy 
 compliance. 
 
 There were multitudes, however, on whom all these 
 arts of temptation produced no effect, and the magis- 
 trates perceiving their resolute behaviour, and deter- 
 
 * Neander, p. 158.- 
 Y 
 
334 TRIALS. 
 
 mined, at the same time, by fair means or foul, to get 
 them to sacrifice, had recourse to stratagem. The 
 lives of some, for instance, they spared, because, when 
 insensible from bodily sufferings, or when their arms 
 were powerless from the rack, they were made to go 
 through some act of sacrificing, which satisfied the 
 magistrates, — had incense put into their hands, or the 
 meat of a sacrifice thrust into their mouths, or were 
 forcibly carried up the steps of the altar,""' and had the 
 impure incense thrown on their right hands,t or were 
 made to stand at the gate of the temples, and present 
 twigs of laurel or palm-trees to those who came 
 thither to sacrifice. Sometimes they caused all the 
 eatables on sale in the markets to be sprinkled with 
 the holy waters of paganism, and appointed persons 
 to sit at the gateway of the public baths with pitch- 
 ers of this water beside them, out of which, with a 
 brush, they besmeared the clothes of those who were 
 entering. J At other times, they counselled the 
 great and wealthy among the heathen to have the 
 food used in their families consecrated to idols, and 
 then set before their Christian slaves, or, when they 
 gave entertainments to their friends, to ordain the 
 animals to be slaughtered, not by butchers, or cooks, 
 but by priests only. In the later times of persecu- 
 tion, this refinement of cruelty was much practised, 
 insomuch, that nothing ever appeared at table until 
 each dish had been consecrated and sprinkled with 
 
 * A woman who was cajoled by very flattering and gentle words to sac- 
 rifice, resisted all the efforts of the court. Being at length forcibly dragged 
 to the place for sacrificing, she struck the altar with her heel, and over- 
 turned it and all that was upon it. — Martyrs of Palpstme, chap. viii. 
 A Syrian peasant, a plain and simple man, but of dauntless courage, had 
 for a long time endured incredible tortures, so far as to have wearied the 
 executioners, whose office it was to torment him. At length he was lifted 
 up and cariied to the altar, from which a piece of live charcoal with some 
 incense was taken and attempted to be put into his hand, that he might 
 seem to the bystanders to be sacrificing. But he held his hand so firmly 
 clenched, that every effort to open it was unavailing, and he preferred 
 rather to have his hand burnt to ashes, than comply with the forbidden 
 act. — Fleury, Hist. Eccles., vol. ii. p. 604. 
 
 t Martyrs of Palestine, chap. i. ; Burton, vo'. ii. p. 438. 
 
 i Martyrs of Palestine, chap. ix. 
 
ARTS EMPLOYED TO EXSNARE THE CHRISTIA5JS. 335 
 
 wine, according to the customary rites of idolatry, 
 and no one could accept an invitation to a feast, with- 
 out incurring the risk of either partaking of impure 
 meat, or having his person besprinkled with the abo- 
 minable waters of the temple. * This snare was very 
 commonly, during all the persecutions, laid for the 
 Christian prisoners, Avho were confined in the dun- 
 geons. They were starved for a day or two together, 
 and when appetite, through long fasting, had Ijecome 
 ravenous, meat, carefully sprinkled with incense, Avas 
 set before them, in the hope that the temptation 
 would prove irresistible. Amongst others who suf- 
 fered this worse than Tantalus' fate was Lucian, an 
 eminent deacon of the church at Tyre. All food was 
 carefully kept from him for two days, and when he 
 had long felt the most violent pangs of famishing 
 appetite, he was carried into a spacious chamber, where 
 a table was spread for him, groaning under all the 
 delicacies of the season. But they had been previously 
 offered to idols, and no urgency of persuasion, no ex- 
 tremity of personal suffering, not even the certainty 
 of a painful and lingering death, could shake the 
 resolution of this courageous disciple to touch not, to 
 taste not the unclean thing, f The Christians were 
 well aware of the counsel which Paul had Ions before 
 given on this subject, and of the evangelical liberty 
 they possessed to eat of every creature of God that 
 was good for food, even although it had passed through 
 the whole course of pagan lustrations. But they 
 refused the impure viands, and resented the tempta- 
 tion with determined resolution and firmness, as an 
 insidious attempt to ensnare them, by small and in- 
 voluntary concessions, into a full and universal com- 
 pliance mth the rites of idolatry; and the motives 
 and views under which they acted in these difficult 
 ,aiid delicate circumstances, cannot be better described 
 
 * Lactantius, chap, xi., also chap, xxxvii. 
 t Fleury, Hist. Eccles., vol. ii. p. 602. 
 
336 TRIALS. 
 
 than in the words of indignant remonstrance, -which, 
 on the renewal of such arts lonoj after by JuHan, two 
 officers of the imperial guards addressed to that prince : 
 — " Sire, we have been educated in the true rehgion, 
 and embraced with all our hearts its excellent laws, and 
 therefore we cannot but now behold, with unfeigned 
 sorrow, the abominations you are scattering about 
 in every place, by polluting both meat and drink with 
 odious sacrifices. We do not complain of it as hinder- 
 ing the exercise of our religion, but we have mourned 
 over this cruel policy, as an unjust and tyrannical 
 oppression of a most loyal class of your subjects, and 
 an indelible reproach to your character and reign." * 
 
 It would be a tedious and unnecessary labour to 
 describe at length all the mean and villainous arts 
 which the heathen magistrates and priests put in 
 practice, in order to draw the Christians into a real 
 or apparent compliance with the Pagan superstitions. 
 Frequently they despatched messengers to all the re- 
 servoirs in the neighbourhood of large cities, to dye 
 the water with the blood or the wine of sacrifices, 
 in order that, although the fluid, in passing through 
 the aqueducts, might regain something of its natural 
 colour ere it reached the inhabitants, they might enjoy 
 the secret satisfaction of the deception that had been 
 practised. Sometimes they caused the images of the 
 gods to be placed close to, or directly behind, the sta- 
 tues of the emperors, that when the people presented 
 themselves on the anniversaries to do civil obeisance to 
 the one, their posture might be construed also into re- 
 ligious obedience to the other. Or, as dealers in magic 
 and jugglery abounded greatly in primitive times, they 
 would, at great expense, provide a public exhibition, 
 or procure a written account to be drawn up of the 
 w'onderful performances of the mountebanks, under 
 pretext of affording the world means of forming an im- 
 partial judgment, but, in reality, wdth the secret vie\f 
 
 * Life of Julian, p. 254. 
 
SWEARING BY THE GENIUS OF THE EMPEROR. 337 
 
 of perplexing and confounding the minds of Christians 
 between the rival claims of those feats and the miracles 
 of Christ and his apostles.* Another very common 
 way of tempting the Christians was, by persuading 
 them to swear by the genius of the emperor. Being 
 constantly accused of treason, and pursuing a conduct 
 derogatory to the honour and interests of the emperor, 
 they were frequently told, on their appearance at the 
 tribunals, " We don't require you to renounce notions 
 you appear to be so fond of, or relinquish habits you 
 may find it difficult to give up. We will grant you 
 oleration, if you Avill submit to a simple test of your 
 loyalty, — swear by the genius of the emperor." The 
 Christians would pray for the life of the emperor, but 
 his genius was something not belonging to the nature 
 of man, and savouring of idolatry, and, therefore, they 
 could not comply with the condition. In the year 
 200, some Christians, from a town in Numidia, were 
 brought before the Roman proconsul of the province. 
 '•• You may receive pardon from our emperor," said 
 the governor, " if you will pay him the respect due 
 from subjects to their king." " It is our principle," 
 said Speratus, who was spokesman for his brethren, 
 *' first to fear God, and then to honour the emperor." 
 '■ We are also pious," rejoined the magistrate, " but 
 we swear by the genius of the emperor, our lord, 
 which you must also do." The honest Christian re- 
 plied, " I know nothing of this genius of the emperor ; 
 I pay regularly all the taxes and imposts that are 
 exacted, for I acknowledge the emperor as my ruler ; 
 but I can only worship and swear by God, the King 
 of kings, the Lord of all. t A still more artful snare 
 than any we have yet adverted to, remains now to be 
 
 * Neander, p. 6G. 
 
 t Euseb. Hist., ch. vii. Christians were required also to swear by the 
 fortune of Cassar. The Roman emperors kept a statue of Fortune in their 
 bedchambers, which was considered as the palladium of the empire. It 
 is difficult to understand the precise meaning of swearing by the fortune 
 of Ceesar ; but some sort of veneration was undoubtedly intended.— rAr!>f, 
 Antiq., p. 92. 
 
338 TRIALS. 
 
 described ; and it was laid only for those confessors 
 of Christ who had been long detained in prison. A 
 particular regimen was prescribed to them, — this hap- 
 pened in the time of Galerius and Maximin, — rations 
 were daily dealt out to them from the imperial store- 
 houses, and officers, at intervals, made them pass 
 through a varied and laborious exercise, similar to 
 what is known by the name of training. When, by 
 this means, they had been brought into good condi- 
 tion, the proposal was made to them, that it was in 
 their own power to procure life and liberty, on the 
 easy condition of taking the caestus, and exhibiting at 
 a public boxing-match for the entertainment of the 
 people in the amphitheatre. The terms were degrad- 
 ing, and many Christians prefen*ed encountering tor- 
 ture and death, in their most appalling form, to the 
 public infamy of practising a discipline so inconsistent 
 with their holy profession. * Temptations of a more 
 formidable nature even than this were more than once 
 thrown in the way of the imprisoned martyrs. They 
 were forced to feed upon the richest meat, — to drink 
 the most generous wines, — to pamper their appetites 
 Avith the rarest luxuries, — to repose on couches of 
 downy softness, surrounded by every accompaniment 
 that could captivate the senses; and, while in this 
 state of elysium, women of sm-passing beauty and 
 most elegant address were introduced, to complete, 
 by their meretricious arts, the scene of temptation. 
 
 IMany were caught by one or other of these snares. 
 And among the causes of intestine discord that dis- 
 tracted the bosom of the primitive Church, there was 
 not a more prolific source of unhappy strife and divi- 
 sion, than what arose out of the various cases of those 
 who, in time of temptation, had fallen away. But 
 the great majority gave no place to the enem3\ They 
 resisted unto blood, striving against sin ; and their 
 death was invariably the more cruel, that their fimi- 
 
 * Martyrs of Palestine, ch. vii. 
 
FAILURE OF THE IIEATHENS' SNARES. 339 
 
 ness baffled the most elaborate arts, and the utmost 
 ingenuity of their persecutors, to shake it. Indignant 
 at the rejection of terms so liberal, and at the supposed 
 ingratitude of the Christians for offers so condescend- 
 ing and humane, they thought that no degree of pun- 
 ishment was too great for such a strange obstinacy; 
 and hence another part of the trials of the primitive 
 believers consisted in modes of torture and of death, 
 rarely, if ever, paralleled in any other age of the 
 world. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 TARIOUS MODES OF PUNISHMENT — IMPRISONMENT — THE STOCKS— ORIGEN — 
 THE HORSE — MUTILATION — THE MINES— BATHS OF DIOCLETIAN — HARD- 
 SHIPS ENDURED IN THE MINES — BRIEF RESPITE — MANY OF THE MOST 
 EMINENT BISHOPS AND PRIVATE CHRISTIANS MAIMED IN VARIOUS WAYS 
 — FIGHTING WITH WILD BEASTS— CLOTHED IN SKINS OF DOGS, ASSES, 
 &C. — FONDNESS OF THE ROMANS FOR THOSE COMBATS — IGNATIUS— 
 AGAPIUS — THE CROSS — THE APOSTLE ANDREW — MARTYRS IN EGYPT — 
 CRUCIFYING WITH HEAD DOWNWARDS— THROWING DEAD BODIES INTO 
 RIVERS — LEAVING THEM A PREY TO BIRDS AND RAVENOUS BEASTS — 
 MINGLING THE BONES OF CHRISTIANS WITH THOSE OF LO\yER ANIMALS 
 — REDUCING THEM TO ASHES — VARIOUS METHODS OF DOING THIS — 
 PITCHY COATS — IRON CHAIR — THE WHEEL — VARIOUS OTHER PUNISH- 
 MENTS — THE RACK — BITHYNIAN GOVERNOR — MARTYRS — CONFESSORS — 
 SUICIDES — CRIMINALS PRETENDING TO BE CHRISTIANS— ESTIMATE OF 
 THE NUMBER OF MARTYRS. 
 
 From the time that Christianity, by the unexampled 
 rapidity of its progress through the world, struck 
 with astonishment and consternation the rulers of the 
 Roman empire, her statesmen, on grounds of ancient 
 policy, and the numerous friends of the reigning 
 superstition, from the stronger motives of selfishness, 
 adopted the most vigorous measures to stem the tide 
 of conversion ; and when they found that their utmost 
 efforts were inadequate, by conciliation or bribery, to 
 discourage the increase of new disciples, their disap- 
 pointed and exasperated zeal discharged its full mea- 
 sure of vengeance on the heads of the old and most 
 stedfast believers. They proclaimed Christianity to 
 
VARIOUS MODES OF PUNISHMENT. 34»1 
 
 be treason against the emperor; and forgetting the 
 mild spirit of Roman legislation, which had tixed, 
 by laws of venerable antiquity, a graduated scale of 
 punishments, they broke through the usual forms of 
 judicial procedure, to introduce modes of torture and 
 execution till then unknown in the criminal code of 
 the empire. At first, and during the whole progress 
 of the primitive age, a lenient and conciliatory policy 
 was in many places pursued towards the followers of 
 Christ. A reluctance was shown by several humane 
 emperors and governors to bring matters to extremities, 
 and even when political considerations, or zeal for the 
 interests of idolatry, constrained them to imsheathe 
 the sword of persecution, there were always a few, 
 who, to the honour of humanity, displayed a becoming 
 anxiety to prevent the tribunals from being degraded 
 into scenes of barbarian cruelty, and to render death 
 to those whom, on conviction of the supposed crime 
 of Christianity, they were obliged to condemn, as quick 
 and easy as possible.* But every reader must be con- 
 vinced, from the perusal of the preceding chapters, not 
 only that such moderation was rare, and that in the 
 breasts even of the most humane and liberal the sources 
 of compassion and mercy were completely dried up 
 in the heat of persecution, when time and habit had 
 made them familiar with bloodshed, but that the great 
 majority of governors and magistrates, tilling offices in 
 the pagan temples, or closely connected with the priests, 
 were ready at all times, and especially when they had 
 the countenance and support of bigoted and tyrannical 
 emperors, to employ their power and their influence 
 for the annoyance and destruction of the Christians, 
 and practised, without scruple, the utmost severities 
 on a class of people whose firmness of principle was 
 ignorantly mistaken for " a stupid and inflexible ob- 
 stinacy." As Christianity extended, and the contest 
 between that religion and paganism became fiercer 
 
 * TertulUan's Letter to Scapula. 
 
342 TRIALS. 
 
 and more deadly, humanity and moderation towards 
 its adherents were totally extinguished among idolaters 
 and politicians of every degree. The ancient modes 
 of punishment and death were deemed too light and 
 honourable for a class of people who were universally 
 odious for their reputed crimes, and looked upon with 
 cold suspicion as the enemies of the human race. Tor- 
 tures were every where put in practice against them, 
 which had been hitherto reserved only for the meanest 
 slaves and the vilest criminals ; and the invention of 
 malice was stretched to the utmost to devise new forms 
 of death and refinements of cruelty, such as should 
 deo;rade the wretched sufferers beneath the level of 
 humanity,* and at the same time prolong, by their 
 lingering nature, the fiendish satisfaction and triumph 
 of the persecutors. These are circumstantially de- 
 scribed by all the ancient fathers of the Church, whose 
 works have been transmitted to our time ; and it was 
 reserved to the sceptical historian of the " Decline and 
 Fall of the Roman Empire," to be the first to throw 
 vague hints of suspicion on the real extent of the 
 sufferings endured by the primitive Christians. " It 
 would have been an easy task," says that author, 
 "from the history of Eusebius, the declamations of 
 Lactantius, and the most ancient acts, to collect a long 
 series of horrid and disgustful pictures, and to fill many 
 pages with racks and scourges, with iron hooks, and 
 red-hot beds, and with all the variety of tortures which 
 fire and steel, savage beasts, and more savage execu- 
 tioners could inflict on the human body. These 
 melancholy scenes might be enlivened by a crowd of 
 visions and miracles, destined either to delay the death, 
 to celebrate the triumph, or to discover the relics of 
 those canonized saints who suffered for the name 
 of Christ. But I cannot determine what I ought to 
 
 * " No care," said an ancient governor of Palestine, "ought to be taken 
 of these Christians; let all treat them as unworthy the name of men." — 
 Euseb. Hist. Eccles., b. viii. chap. 10. 
 
VARIOUS MODES OF PUNISHMENT. 343 
 
 transcribe, till I am satisfied how much I ought to 
 believe." * In answer to the sneers of this eloquent, 
 but deeply prejudiced historian, it is sufficient to state, 
 that the works of Eusebius, the great father of eccle- 
 siastical history, were given to the world in the very 
 age which had witnessed the barbarities he described, 
 and when, we may be sure, there were multitudes 
 who would have been ready, for the honour of the old 
 superstition, to embrace the opportunity of recording 
 their evidence, if they possessed any, for disproving 
 the testimony of the Christian historian. But neither 
 Julian, nor any of his literary friends and successors, 
 though well acquainted with the history of Eusebius 
 and the acts of the martyrs, have written a single 
 word to impugn the truth or accuracy of that work ; 
 and although it would have been as easy for his Pagan 
 contemporaries to have exposed these errors and exag- 
 gerations, if the eagle eyes of their criticism had dis- 
 covered any, as it would be for the Papists to refute 
 the falsehoods of Protestant historians concerning the 
 persecutions of the bloody Mary in England, yet these 
 venerable remains of ecclesiastical antiquity have ever 
 been ranked among the most authentic pieces of his- 
 tory that the world has ever known, and a whisper 
 was never breathed against their truth and accuracy, 
 till a sceptical historian of the eighteenth century had 
 the hardihood to hint a vague suspicion, unsupported 
 by the smallest evidence. The various cruelties then 
 inflicted on the primitive Christians, — coming to us, 
 as they do, confirmed by the united testimonies of all 
 the ancient fathers from Eusebius downwards, must 
 be received as no less true and credible transactions 
 than any others which the pages of history record ; 
 and they form a picture of infernal malicious cruelty, 
 which will remain to the eternal infamy of those who 
 authorised them, t 
 
 Imprisonment was one of the most common and 
 
 * Euseb. Hist. Eccles., b. viii. chap. 16. f Milner's Answer, p. 8G. 
 
3i4f TRIALS. 
 
 gentle of those trials. It was not, however, the mere 
 deprivation of liberty, or the being thrust into a dark 
 dungeon, the horrors of Avhich many mysterious 
 rumours were industriously propagated to augment — 
 for during incarceration, the unhappy prisoners were 
 doomed to undergo the greatest cruelty of treatment. 
 Their bare backs were lacerated by means of a for- 
 midable scourge, consisting of a long leathern thong, 
 terminated by a ball of lead ; and while the blood 
 streamed down in deep furrows, the executioner un- 
 mercifully repeated his blows, until the medical at- 
 tendant, who sat by in silence, and every minute or 
 two examined the prisoner, pronounced it impossible 
 for him to bear any more. The poor sufferer, more 
 dead than alive, was then thrust into some foul and 
 loathsome dungeon, where the cold, or the unwhole- 
 some atmosphere, slowly but certainly brought him to 
 an end. Sometimes Christians were spared the usual 
 preliminary of the scourge, to be subjected to a worse 
 kind of violence in prison. They were put into the 
 stocks — a punishment common among the Romans. 
 These were formed of two broad pieces of wood, as 
 large as the ordinary size of a man, and placed, the 
 one at the back, the other on the face and belly of 
 the prisoner, with live holes in them, through two of 
 which the feet, through the other two the hands, and 
 through the fifth the head of the prisoner was thrust, 
 and kept in this unnatural position for a day and a 
 night together. His frame was most violently racked 
 by it ; and though perspiring at every pore, and weak 
 through excessive fatigue, he was denied every thing 
 in the form of liquor to allay his intolerable thirst, 
 and of food to support exhausted nature. They were 
 made lighter or heavier, according to the nature of 
 the crime, or the disposition of the jailer, being gene- 
 rally from forty to fifty, though sometimes far more 
 than a hundred pounds weight. It was altogether a 
 most insupportable torture ; for not only were the 
 
MUTILATION. 345 
 
 arras and legs loaded with the weight of the boards, 
 but distended in a very painful manner, so that the 
 recovery of the free use of the limbs, when it was 
 ever made, was the slow work of time. Many died 
 through the effects of this severe distortion of their 
 bodies. Among others who suffered this punishment 
 was Origen, who continued, with a brief respite, for 
 several days in that painful situation.* 
 
 Similar in kind, though not in form to the stocks, 
 was the punishment of the horse, a huge engine, on 
 which the person condemned to it was placed astride 
 as a horseman, on his back — his hands and feet being 
 laid down. The boards of which the instrument of 
 torture was composed were then suddenly let down 
 and separated, so that every part of the rider's body 
 was distended with the utmost violence — while an 
 executioner standing by. continued to lacerate his 
 body with the ungula^ a sort of iron pincers, with 
 sharp teeth, like a hook. There were several varieties 
 of this instrument of torture. Some Christians were 
 suspended from it with small cords bound round their 
 arms and legs, which were tightened so much, by the 
 weight of the body and other heavy weights attached 
 to it, as to penetrate deeply into the flesh. Others 
 were elevated on a scaffolding attached to the equuleus, 
 and then made to undergo the rack, that the proceed- 
 ings might be better seen and enjoyed by the crowd. 
 
 Mutilation was another very common punishment 
 of the primitive Christians. The confessors of the 
 faith, who w^re often spared to suffer tortures worse 
 than an hundred deaths, had sometimes their ears 
 and nostrils slit in so ghastly a manner, as made 
 them spectacles of horror and disgust even to them- 
 selves. Some had their right eyes violently scooped 
 out of the socket, or pierced >vith the point of a sword, 
 or seared vnih a red-hot iron, or sealed up with some 
 preparation of wax. Others had their hands com- 
 
 * Euseb. Hist. Eccles., b. vi. ch. 39; also b, viii. ch. 10. 
 
346 TRIALS. 
 
 pletely lopped off, or lost the use of both by the weight 
 and racking pressure of their manacles. Others had 
 the tendons and sinews of their legs burnt through, or 
 their ankles so completely dislocated, that they were 
 ever after disabled from walking. The consequence 
 of the mutilation being not only to inflict pain and 
 misery on the wretched victims of it for life, but to 
 reduce them, by this mark of disgrace, to such a pitch 
 of degradation, that they were thenceforth incapable 
 of enjoying the common rights of citizens, it became 
 henceforth a favourite punishment of the Christians. 
 Their heads were half shaved, and their foreheads 
 branded like those of common slaves.* In this dis- 
 membered and degraded state they were, not so much 
 for any service they could render, as for an aggrava- 
 tion of their misery, employed in some of the immense 
 public works, which the ambition or enterprise of the 
 emperors was then carrying on. Some performed the 
 part of labourers, or rather beasts of burden, in carry- 
 ing the materials of those enormous baths of Diocle- 
 tian, the ruins of which are still seen at Rome. Some 
 were appointed to the porphyry quarries of Upper 
 Egypt ; but the chief place of banishment for the 
 Christian slaves was the copper mines of Numidia and 
 Palestine, especially those of Phoeno, situated between 
 Petra and Zoar, in the desert of Idumea.t In those 
 subterranean dungeons, where, from the severity of 
 the labour, and the noxious effluvia that proceeded 
 from the metals, the confinement was most painful, 
 bishops :]: and deacons, laymen of the first character 
 and rank in society, even women and children, were 
 condemned to labour. From morning to night they 
 had to strain every nerve, and toil in hopeless servi- 
 
 * Eminent bishops thus mutilated in time of persecution were present 
 at the public dinner of Constantine after the Council of Nice. — Cave's 
 Lives, vol. ii. p. 68. 
 
 + Burton, vol. ii. pp. 52. 80, 161, 363 ; Neand., pp. 139, 161. 
 
 X Cyprian, and some office-bearers of his church, were in this condi- 
 tion. The apostle John dug in the mines of Patmos. See also Martyrs 
 of Pal., ch. xiii. The mines of Numidia contained nine bishops. — Cyp,. 
 Epist., 76. 
 
THE MINES. 347 
 
 tude, however •wearied or incapable, from inexperience 
 of manual occupation, or want of strength, of bearing 
 the incessant demands upon them. Tlieir inexorable 
 taskmasters, like those of the Israelites of old, instead 
 of alleviatino: the burdens of the aged and the weak, 
 stood over them as they lifted the pick-axe, or drew 
 after them the hurdle, and replied to every complaint, 
 hoAvever reasonable, and to every sigh, however in- 
 voluntary, by beating them with clubs, and increasing 
 tlie daily exertion. There was not a single comfort to 
 alleviate the hard lot of the Christian prisoners. Their 
 scanty allowance of food was scarcely sufficient to 
 allay the pangs of hunger, far less to invigorate them 
 for the toils they had incessantly to endure. Their 
 tattered rags but ill defended them against the cold 
 damp of their subteiTanean dwellings. Their weary 
 limbs found no place of repose but the bare earth, 
 amid accumulations of filth and rubbish, and by day 
 and by night the iron entered their soul, through the 
 incessant pain occasioned by the galling fetters that 
 •cramped their limbs.* For one brief interval, during 
 the reign of Maximin, the Christian prisoners in the 
 mines had a happy respite, being allowed, through the 
 humanity of an overseer, not only to d^ ell in houses 
 above ground, but to possess the still higher enjoy- 
 ment of meeting together for worship, — comforts 
 which, bestowed so unexpectedly, after so long a pri- 
 vation, made even the chains of slavery sweet as the 
 bonds of love, and the house of bondage dear as the 
 house of God. But, alas ! this was too great happiness 
 to last : intelligence of the happy change in the con- 
 •dition of the Christian slaves at Phoeno reaching the 
 ears of the emperor, the brethren were forbid to hold 
 their meetings for worship — they Avere separated to 
 more distant mines, or to different parts of the same 
 quarry, where they were not allowed to speak to each 
 
 * Hailes' Martyrs of Pal.; Notis, p. 50; Lac, 89; Binghjim, vol. u. 
 ■p. J28; Eufieb., b. viii. chap. 14. 
 
348 TRIALS. 
 
 other, and were more severely crushed than ever by a 
 grinding servitude. During the whole of the three 
 first centuries, many of the most eminent Christians, 
 whether for ministerial influence and abilities, or for 
 private worth, appeared in a disfigured and mutilated 
 condition, having been imprisoned at some period of 
 their lives in the mines, on entering which they had 
 been deprived of an eye, a hand, or a foot.'^ And 
 few things contributed more to the great honour and 
 esteem in which living confessors of the faith were 
 lield, than such visible and permanent marks of their 
 having been sufferers for the name of Christ. 
 
 Of all modes of punishment, the most popular with 
 the ancient Roman people was that of setting men to 
 fight with wild beasts ; and as it was the kind of 
 death reserved for the most heinous offences, and in- 
 flicted on the vilest and most noted criminals, the 
 Christians, who were regarded as the worst and guil- 
 tiest of men, were very frequently disposed of in that 
 barbarous manner. This horrid spectacle, which, of 
 all the shows in the amphitheatre, was the most ac- 
 ceptable to the taste of the degenerate Romans in the 
 first three centuries, always formed, on festive occa- 
 sions, the concluding sport of the day ; and those who 
 were made to engage in it, were those felons only to 
 w^hom no hope of life was left. The Bestiarii, who 
 in the earlier part of the day entered the lists with 
 wild beasts, were allowed all sorts of defensive and 
 offensive armour, and in the event of their slaying 
 their savage antagonist, were rewarded by the ap- 
 plauding spectators with liberty and life. , But those 
 who were brought last on the sands of the amphi- 
 theatre were naked and defenceless, with the certain 
 prospect before them of an inevitable and horrid 
 death. They were frequently tied to a wooden pillar, 
 or clothed in the skins of dogs, goats, asses, and such 
 like animals, in order to whet the monster's appetite, 
 
 * Lives of the Fathers, vol. ii. p. 68. 
 
FIGHTING WITH WILD BEASTS. 340 
 
 or else persons were employed goading his sides with, 
 red-hot iron rods, to provoke him to greater fury, 
 and thus afford better sport to the blood-thirsty spec- 
 tators. The exhibition of such revolting shows was 
 a common way by wliich governors and magistrates 
 sought to gain popularity; and although the prisons 
 might not contain criminals of atrocity great enough 
 to justif}^ their execution in this barbarous manner, 
 they were never at a loss, when they had the unfor- 
 tunate Christians to pitch against the wild tenants of 
 the kennels of the Circus. The rabble in a Roman or 
 Grecian city could receive no more grateful intelli- 
 gence, than that of a supply of victims for the wild 
 beasts; and the exhibiters of the bloody games re- 
 quired only to raise the cry, — " The Christians ! away 
 with the Christians ! let the Christians be thrown to 
 the lions !" — to hear their shout rapturously responded 
 to by the populace, and to see their object easily, and 
 without expense or trouble, attained. This most fre- 
 quently happened at those public and festive occasions, 
 which, being graced with the presence of the emperor, 
 it was endeavoured to signalize with the utmost pomp 
 and magnificence, and to give a greater zest to the 
 entertainment by introducing a variety of strange and 
 spirit-stirring sights. Among these, the most extra- 
 ordinary and universally called for, was an exhibition 
 of Christians set to contend with wild bulls, bears, 
 leopards, tigers, and lions. On an announcement of 
 such an entertainment, the expectations of the people 
 were raised to the highest pitch ; and never were the 
 benches of the amphitheatre filled with a denser crowd 
 of men, women, and children, — never did the vralls of 
 the Circus resound Avith more deafening shouts, than 
 when a hungry lion, or a ravenous tiger, starved for 
 the occasion, leaped from his den, and with a tremen- 
 dous roar, heard even amid acclamations loud as from 
 numbers without number, made an impetuous dask 
 against the poor believer, laying bare his fiesh in 
 
 z 
 
350 TRIALS. 
 
 ghastly wounds, and crushing his bones as easily as 
 if they were straw.'"" The famous Ignatius died in 
 this manner at Rome, 20th December 108, during 
 the celebration of the feast Saturnalia. Brought into 
 the arena of the amphitheatre, the holy man — univer- 
 sally odious to the populace as the great leader of the 
 Christians — was assailed mth the most savage yells, 
 during Avhich the lions being let loose upon him, 
 quickly despatched the work of destruction, and left 
 nothing of the venerable saint but a few of the harder 
 and larger bones. Agapius, one of the martyrs of 
 Palestine, was another conspicuous victim of this 
 barbarous custom. Several times he had been con- 
 ducted to the place of execution, in company with the 
 most despicable malefactors ; but as often the judge, 
 from irresolution or sympathy, deferred his part in 
 the combat. On a grand occasion, when the blood- 
 thirsty Maximin was present, he was dragged from 
 his cell, along with a base murderer, as the chief 
 among the Christian prisoners. The assassin, guilty 
 as he was, became, like Barabbas of old, an object of 
 the popular clemency and favour, and was dismissed 
 amid thunders of applause, while the confessor of 
 Christ, reckoned more odious and guilty than the 
 criminal, was detained, without the smallest hope of 
 deliverance from the hands of man. Plaving, to every 
 call to abjure his religion, firmly replied in the nega- 
 tive, and to every inquiry as to his faith in Christ, 
 confessed that '^ he Avas God over all, blessed for ever," 
 he was hooted and condemned as an irreclaimable 
 Christian. The signal was given, and in an instant 
 Agapius Avas in the jaws of a famishing bear.t 
 
 * Martyrs of Palestine, chap. iii. p. 11 ; Lactantius, p. 51 ; Lardner, viii. 
 p. 134; Burton, pp. 44G, 457 ; Milner, vol. ii. p. 8; Cave's Lives ; Igna- 
 tius. — Polycaip was doomed to this death, but owing to the unwillingness 
 of Philip, the Asiarch, at whose expense the games were furnished, to 
 protract the comhats of wild beasts, the usual period having expired, the 
 lions were not let out, and, to the great disappointment of many, Polyoarp 
 was not devoured by wild beasts. — Christian Antiq., vol. ii., Appendix. 
 
 t Martyrs of Palestine, chap. vi. — During Elusebius' stay at Tyre, he 
 saw a great many Christians fighting with wild beasts ; and he states posi- 
 
THE CROSS, 351 
 
 The cross, another punishment reserved for slaves 
 and the basest of people, was one with which the 
 Christians were, from dire experience, more familiar 
 than almost any other. A minute description of the 
 nature and physical effects of crucifixion, harrowing 
 as it must be to the feelings of the reader, is indis- 
 pensable to the right understanding of the trials of 
 the primitive Christians. The cross consisted of two 
 large beams, placed across each other, sometimes in 
 the form of a St Andrew's cross, but more commonly 
 in that of the Roman letter T. These, which were 
 carried separately to the place of execution, were there 
 laid down and screwed together on the ground ; and 
 the unhappy individual being stripjied of all his dress, 
 except a covering about his loins, was stretched along 
 at full lengtli, and his hands and feet, being fully 
 distended, were bound tightly with small cords, or 
 frequently, without any binding at all, were fastened 
 with large iron nails. As the hands alone could not 
 support the weight of the whole body thus suspended, 
 a plug was made to project in the middle of the per- 
 pendicular beam, on which the sufferer might rest, 
 and in some slight measure relieve his agonizing pos- 
 ture. But this was a trifling relief; for as the cross, 
 when ready and prepared for erection, was raised by 
 the help of four men, and let perpendicularly fall into 
 the earthen bed, the violence of the descent gave a 
 shock to the wretched individual, which convulsed 
 and agitated his whole frame, — the womids were thus 
 dreadfully enlarged ; and when it is considered, that 
 the body was not only bound so firmly, that the swollen 
 veins must, even in the absence of all other causes of 
 
 lively, that to the amazement of all the spectators, those savage animals 
 often refused to touch them, notwithstanding every means was employed 
 to stimulate their rage. — Euseb. H. E., b. viii. chap. 13. " Perhaps," says 
 Lord Hailes, "Ithe wild beasts were already satiated, or were disturbed 
 by the shouts and uproar of the multitude. There is no necessity for 
 supposing that any thing preternatural happened on this and similar 
 ovcsisions."— Christian Antiq., vol. i. p. 194. To this observation of Lord 
 Hailes, it may be added, that it is well known that the steady gaze of a 
 human eye strikes terror into the fiercest beasts of the forest. 
 
352 TRIALS. 
 
 suffering, have occasioned most acute anguish, hut 
 violently stretched out in a most unnatural position, 
 — not the slightest movement to relieve which it was 
 possible to make ; and when it is considered that the 
 nails were driven generally through parts of the hands 
 and feet, where the nerves and tendons are most 
 numerous and irritable ; when, moreover, it is con- 
 sidered, that the deep wounds were increased tenfold 
 in painfulness by the continued pressure of the body, 
 and inflamed by the piercing influence of the midnight 
 air ; that the loss of blood produced an extreme thirst, 
 — itself a source of intolerable misery ; and that the 
 slow oozing out of the vital fluid, before the eyes and 
 over the person of the sufferer, threw a heavy sickness 
 into his heart, scarcely less poignant than his physical 
 agonies, — we shall be prepared to say in the words 
 of Cicero, that crucifixion is the most horrible of all 
 species of tortures which were ever devised.* Multi- 
 tudes of Christians were condemned to die in this way. 
 Amid all the agonies of a lingering death, they were 
 generally left till they sank through exhaustion of na- 
 ture, in which horrible condition they often continued 
 a considerable length of time. The apostle Andrew is 
 said to have lived three days before he expired, and 
 ecclesiastical historians mention the case of several 
 martyrs in Egypt and Palestine, of whom some lived 
 till the seventh day, and others M^ere alive on the 
 cross, even after the wolves and birds had begun to 
 prey upon them: In addition to the pain of it, this 
 punishment was considered of all others the most 
 ignominious, and no Roman citizen t Avas subjected 
 to it except in very rare instances, where great flagi- 
 tiousness demanded a more than usual measure of 
 severity and degradation. Persons were sometimes 
 crucified with their heads downward, as the apostle 
 Peter is said to have specially requested, and also 
 
 * Lipsius de Cruce. b. iii. chap. 11. 
 
 t Hence Paul, a free citizen of Rome, was beheaded in the same perse ■ 
 f ution hi. which I'cter, a foreigner, was crucified. 
 
ABUSING BONES OF CHRISTIANS. 353 
 
 several other Christian martyrs after him, deeming it 
 too great an honour to be placed in an erect posture 
 like their blessed Master.* This inverted posture, 
 where the original purpose of assuming it had been 
 forgotten, was frequently ordered to the devoted 
 C/hristians, their persecutors being anxious in every 
 possible way to add to the ignominy and shame of 
 their sufferings, and it was no small agfjravation of the 
 punishment, that, during the lingering process, and 
 after death had released the sufferer from all sense of 
 physical anguish, guards were stationed at the foot of 
 the cross to prevent the relatives or Christian brethren 
 from carrying the body away, and to leave it to be- 
 come the prey of birds or ravenous beasts, — a precau- 
 tion adopted in mockery of the Christian hope of a 
 resurrection. It Avas to defeat this expectation that 
 the believers were so frequently refused the honours 
 of interment ; and neither the solicitation of influen- 
 tial intercessors, nor the tears of sorrowing friends, 
 nor the all-powerful consideration of money could, on 
 some occasions, wring a permission from a heathen 
 magistrate to give decent burial to a Christian corpse. 
 Thus, the mangled remains of the rnartyrs of Lyons 
 were reduced to powder and thrown into the ^vaters 
 of the neighbouring Rhine, that not one particle of 
 them might remain in union with another. And 
 thus, too, during a similar persecution in Palestine, 
 Firmilianus, the inhuman governor, ordered the bodies 
 of the martyrs to be thrown outside the walls of 
 C^sarea, and appointed guards to watch them and 
 prevent their interment. Multitudes of birds and 
 beasts soon discovered the carcases, stripped them of 
 the small remnants of flesh, and strewed the ground 
 with a heap of white bones. Nay, the heathens 
 went even to the extraordinary length of mixing and 
 confounding the bones of Christians with those of 
 horses, camels, and asses, before throwing them away, 
 
 * Euseb., b. iii. chap. 1, 
 
354 TRIALS. 
 
 that it might become impossible, as they ignorantlj 
 imagined, to distinguish and recover the mortal re- 
 mains of believers at the resurrection.* Thus far did 
 " they err, not knowing the Scriptures nor the power 
 of God." Thus vainly did they attempt to shake the 
 confidence of Christian hope, and think that they 
 could occasion bitter despair to the believers, by put- 
 ting it out of their power to enjoy the much-valued 
 privilege of burial. However desirable Christians 
 might have considered the decent interment of the 
 body, they knew that the enjoyment or the want of 
 funeral rites would noway affect the sure and certain 
 hope of its resurrection through Jesus Christ. They 
 knew that the promise of God standeth sure ; and 
 although their bodies might have been devoured by 
 birds, beasts of the field, or fishes of the sea, — al- 
 though its dismembered fragments should be scattered 
 to the winds of heaven, and wafted on the breeze to 
 the remotest regions of the world, they believed that 
 God could, by his mighty power, collect every particle 
 of dust, whether imbedded in the bowels of the earth 
 or in the depths of the ocean, or incorporated with 
 the bodies of ravenous animals, and raise the human 
 frame in more than its former beauty, to the joy and 
 the glory of eternal life, t 
 
 Another way in which the heathens fi-equently at- 
 tempted to baffle the Christians' hope of a resurrec- 
 tion, was by reducing their bodies to ashes. Various 
 were the methods which inventive malice and cruelty 
 devised for accomplishing this. Sometimes the Chris- 
 tians were tied to a stake fixed in the ground, near 
 which a slow fire was burning, and lifted above the 
 fire just so far that a moderate flame flickered about 
 
 * Cave's Lives, V. ii. p. 6; Burton, v. ii. p. 175-454; Neand., p. 113; 
 Mart, of Pal., chap. xi. 
 
 t " You may burn this body," says Tatius, " and by preventing {its 
 burial, which we are anxious for, try to dissipate its component parts 
 beyond the power of Providence to recall. But you cannot send them 
 beyond the sphere of the world— and the world is the Lord's, and the 
 fulness thexeoL"— J gainst the Greeks, chap, ix. 
 
PITCHY COATS. 355 
 
 the soles of their feet, until the muscles, contracted 
 by burning, were torn from the bones ; then torches, 
 lighted and put out again, were directed to all the 
 members of their bodies, so that no part had any ex- 
 emption. Meanwhile, cold water was continually 
 poured on their faces, and their mouths moistened, 
 lest, by reason of their jaws being parched, they should 
 expire.* At other times, they were burnt with a re- 
 finement of cruelty, which could have originated only 
 in the most savage hatred. They were wrapped in a 
 coat or shirt, which Avas made of coarse paper, or stout 
 sackcloth, daubed over with pitch, sulphur, wax, or 
 such combustible m.aterials, and in this most annoying 
 dress they were fastened to a stake stuck in the ground 
 — a cord being tied round their chin to keep their head 
 in an erect posture. The inventor of this horrid tor- 
 ture was Nero, in whose gardens it was first exhibited 
 after the conflagration of Rome, and introduced by him 
 in order that the Christian victims might, in the dark- 
 ness, have the appearance of so many gigantic torches. 
 The pitched jacket seems to have been put upon 
 Polycarp, and it was afterAvards frequently used as an 
 approved mode of tormenting the Christians.f Some- 
 times, when " the troublesome coats " could not be 
 procured, or were not ready in suflicient numbers, the 
 
 * Hailes' Lactantius, p. 52 ; ii. Lactantius, p. 133 ; Christ. Antiq., vol. 
 ii. p. 122; Lardner's Heathen Testimonies, chap. vi. 
 t Martial refers to the Christians in the following epigram : — 
 In matutina nuper spectatus arena 
 
 Mucins, imposuit qui sua membra focis. 
 Si patiens fortisque tibi durusque videtur 
 
 Abderitanaa pectora plsbis habes. 
 Namcum dicatur, tunica prfesente molesta, 
 " Ure manum," plus est dicere, Nonfacio. 
 
 B. X. epig. 25. 
 Not long ago, the actors, by command, 
 Played the fine tale of " him who burned his hand," 
 And at that deed of patriot fortitude 
 All Romans, young and old, admiring stood. 
 Misplaced applause ! more admiration's due. 
 For nerve and patience, to the Christian crew, 
 Who, rather than some grains of incense bear. 
 The lingering horrors of the pitchy jacket dare. — Anon. 
 
 .Juvenal also makes allusion to this instrument of Christian torture : — 
 Pone Tigellinum, tteda lucebis in ilia 
 
356 TRIALS. 
 
 soldiers and menial attendants, who had charge of the 
 executions, were ordered to wrap the bodies of the pri- 
 soners in pieces of cloth, previously saturated with 
 some inflammable liquid. Thus Apphianus, after suf- 
 ferings almost beyond the power of liuman endurance, 
 was condemned, by order of Urbanus, the governor, to 
 be burnt; and a dress was prepared for him of linen, 
 steeped in oil, in which combustible attire he was 
 bound to the pile.* At other times, the punishment 
 of burning was executed on the Christians by placing 
 them in a sitting posture, on an iron chair just taken 
 red hot from a furnace, and so contrived as that its 
 arms encircled the body of the occupier, or it was 
 gradually heated by a slow fire beneath it. 
 
 The wheel was not the least common nor the least 
 dreadful of the punishments to which the primitive 
 Christians were doomed. This instrument of torture 
 rested on an immense wooden board, between which 
 and the wheel a space was left large enough to let an 
 ordinary sized person barely pass through, — the wheel 
 itself, or the board below, being studded with sharp 
 teeth. Bound at full length along the circumference 
 of the wheel, with every part of the body painfully 
 distended, the prisoner was made rapidly to go round ; 
 every revolution, as it brought him in contact with the 
 prickly pedestal, producing deep and ghastly furrows 
 on his back and cheeks. Immense multitudes were 
 
 Qua Stantes ardent qui fixo gutture fumant 
 Et latum media sulcum deducit arena. 
 
 Sat. i., 355-7. 
 
 Now dare 
 To glance as Tigcllinus, and you glare 
 In tliat pitched shirt, in which such crowds expire 
 Chained to the bloody stake, and wrapped in fire. 
 
 Gifford's Tr.\nslation. 
 Death is your doom, impaled upon a stake ; 
 Smeared o'er wiih wax. and set on fire, to light 
 The streets, and make a dreadful blaze by nigiit. 
 
 Dryden's Translation. 
 Lord Hailes must have forgot those well-known passages of Martial or 
 Juvenal, when he said, " It does not appear that this wanton cruelty was 
 ever repeated after Hero."— Christ. Antiq., vol. i. p. 107. 
 
 * Martyrs of Palestine, chap. iv. 
 
VARIOUS OTHER PUNISHMENTS. 357 
 
 put to death in this manner, among whom were Felix 
 and Fortunatus. * 
 
 Many other tortures, too horrible for a circumstan- 
 tial relation, were invented and renewed by the ene- 
 mies of the Christians. Some were tied by the feet 
 to great boughs of trees, violently bent and forced to- 
 gether by engines ; and on a signal, the boughs being 
 let go, tore asunder the bodies of the martyrs in pieces. 
 Some were enclosed in the belly of a brazen bull, the 
 sides of which were pierced with innumerable small 
 holes to allow theirf to breathe, while underneath it, 
 an immense fire acting upon the metal, made the 
 cavity of the monster so intolerably hot, as occasioned 
 indescribable agony to the imprisoned tenant. Others 
 were bedaubed all over with honey, and at noon, 
 when the weather was sultry, fastened to a long pole, 
 where they were soon covered with swarms of flies and 
 wasps, that stung them to death. This was the fate 
 of Marcus of Arethusa, who suffered martyrdom in 
 the reign of Julian. His whole body being besmeared 
 with honey, and various preparations of sugar, he was 
 put into a basket, placed on an eminence on a spa- 
 cious meadow under the rays of a summer sun, and in 
 a short time his body was so swollen and disfigured 
 with the stings of myriads of insects, that after linger- 
 ing in gi-eat agony, he died. Others were embarked 
 on shipboard under pretext of sailing to a remote 
 pface of banishment ; but when conveyed to the open 
 sea, the crew set fire to the ship, saved themselves in 
 a life-boat, and left the Christians to perish amid the 
 flames. On one occasion, about eighty persons, of 
 whom the great majority were pastors or deacons, 
 were put to death in this horrible manner, which ^vas 
 resorted to in order to prevent any tumultuous pro- 
 
 =*= Eusebius, in his notice of this engine, uses a word signifying literally 
 " carding wool," — a word emphatically descriptive of its terrible effects. 
 Elsewhere he describes it " as harrowing the sutferer even to the bones, 
 and deep into the intestines, as if he were composed not of human flesh, 
 but of stone, wood, or some other inanimate substance." — Martyrs of 
 Palestine, chap. xi. 
 
358 TRIALS. 
 
 ceedings, hj wliicli the martyrdom of such eminent 
 and pious characters might have been followed among 
 the people at home.* In short, they were enclosed 
 in nets and thrown before bulls, to be tossed by the 
 furious beasts — they were raked with shells of fishes, 
 driven into long stakes — broiled on gridirons — had 
 sharp reeds thrust up their fingers from the nails — 
 melted lead poured down their backs, and often down 
 their throats — covered with burning plates of metal 
 — bruised under mills — thrown headlong from high 
 buildings — plunged under the waves with a millstone 
 about their necks — sewed up in a bull's hide, with a 
 dog and an asp, and thrown into the seat — sawn 
 from the extremities, piecemeal, by a slow process — 
 buried up to the shoulders in the earth, and left in 
 that helpless position to perish of hunger, :|: and in a 
 thousand other ways, which it would be revolting to 
 the humane reader to describe, the believers suffered 
 death in most appalling forms, by the malice and 
 cruelty of the enemies of Christ. It was not death 
 alone they had to encounter, but such lingering, 
 shameful, and excruciating torments, as were far 
 m.ore terrible to humanity than death itself. The 
 Christians, on falling into the hands of their enemies, 
 could seldom or never anticipate the kind or degree of 
 punishment with which the confession of their faith 
 would be visited. It was one of the greatest trials 
 incident to their situation, that an open and resolute 
 avowal of their attachment to Christianity, not only 
 placed them at all times in almost certain jeopardy of 
 their lives, but left ever a dire imagination to conjure 
 up unknown terrors as to the way in which death 
 
 * Cave's Primitive Christianity, part ii. chap. 7. 
 
 t This was the common punishment of parricide among the Romans. 
 But the enemies of the Christians, careless about making any discrimina- 
 tion in the punishments inflicted on them, awarded all such as were of the 
 most horrible nature, and implied the last degradation. 
 
 J Besides the punishments enumerated above, tliere were the most in- 
 decent and infamous barbarities inflicted upon Christian women. — Chand- 
 ler's History of Persecution ; Fleury, Hist. Eccles., vol. ii. p. 427 ; Hailes' 
 Christ. Antiq., vol. iii. chap. 4 ; Lardner, vol. viii. p. 303. 
 
VARIOUS OTHER PUNISHMENTS. 35r> 
 
 would be inflicted. They could read in the bloody 
 experience of multitudes of their brethren, that the 
 implacable malice of their persecutors presented not 
 only no hope of immunity from suffering, but a sure 
 prospect of increased severities against all successive 
 travellers in the same path of religion. But up to their 
 coming under the power of the executioners, they con- 
 tinued in the dark as to the amount and duration of 
 corporal sufferance with which each would be made 
 to atone for his indi\'idual offence ; and although 
 in time a uniform class of punishments — the most 
 severe and ignominious in the criminal code of Rome 
 — came to be awarded ao-ainst those convicted of the 
 crime of Christianity, yet the personal prejudices of 
 the judge, the humour of the times, or the exci-ted 
 state of the mob, often gave an intensity and variety 
 to these tortures, far beyond Avhat the severest ad- 
 ministration of Roman justice had ever inflicted till 
 then on the vilest criminals. The grand object of 
 the persecutors being not the death of the Christians, 
 but their return to idolatry, or the total suppression 
 of the new religion, their rage was intense in propor- 
 tion to the bitter disappointment they felt at finding 
 all their efforts ineffectual to reclaim the apostates 
 from idolatry, and support the declining glory of 
 the temples. And as anger in the paroxysms of 
 its fury is always blind and indiscriminating in the 
 course it takes, and when it has its object in its power, 
 delights to riot in the luxury of revenge, so the hea- 
 then persecutors presiding in the examination of the 
 Christians at their tribunals, not with the calm and 
 dispassionate temper of judges, but the exasperation 
 of contemptuous and implacable enemies, thought of 
 no precedent, observed no rule, studied no proportion 
 in the punishments they awarded to the convicted 
 followers of Christ. When the Christian prisoners 
 were formidable for their numbers — when any of them 
 displayed an undaunted, bold, and inflexible resolution 
 
360 TRIALS. * 
 
 — wlien they remained proof against all the subtle and 
 ensnaring arts, by which the judges and priests attempt- 
 ed to gain from them the smallest acts of homage to 
 the reigning superstition — when they spurned, with 
 undisguised contempt, every god and goddess of 
 whatever name and pretensions in the well-stocked 
 calendar of the Homan Pantheon — when they fled 
 with horror at the sight of an altar, or recoiled from 
 the impure touch of its incense — the resentment of 
 the zealous abettors of Paganism knew no bounds, and 
 resorted to all the means which Satanic malice could 
 dictate for destroying the obnoxious heretics. But the 
 death of the enemy of the gods was not enough ; his 
 being rendered for ever incapable, by the loss of life, 
 to repeat the injury, was the last thing thought of. 
 As the interests of idolatry, and the honour of the 
 national worship were concerned, nothing less could 
 suffice but that the instrument of offence be instan- 
 taneously offered as an expiation to avert the wrath of 
 its dishonoured patrons. The tongue that had uttered 
 the word of reproach against Jupiter or any of his 
 comrades was forthwith cut out; — the eye that seemed 
 to look with contempt on the embodied representa- 
 tions of divinity was pierced with the point of a sword, 
 or extingUTslied with a hot iron ; — the hand that 
 refused to lift a grain of incense was amputated and 
 thrown into the fire of the temple, as a more accept- 
 able gift than the customary offering ; — the foot that 
 trod lightly on an altar was ground to powder, or 
 was for ever disabled from doing its office, and every 
 member of his body, as being partaker in the guilt, 
 was subjected to the utmost extremity of suffering, 
 as an atonement at the shrine of the insulted deities. 
 Never was imagination put more laboriously to the 
 stretch than to invent new punishments for the primi- 
 tive Christians. Seldom in the history, even of reli- 
 gious wars, have tortures more varied, or atrocity more 
 exquisite, been put in execution, than by the heathen 
 
THE RACK. 361 
 
 against the early believers in Jesus. Not the smallest 
 part of the human frame, in which there was a nerve 
 capable of suffering, but was occasionally selected for 
 the practice of some refined cruelty. Scarce an object 
 in nature, or an instrument of art, Imt was enlisted 
 in the revolting service of maiming, tormenting, and 
 killing the servants of the true and living God. 
 
 The punishments we have described in the foregoing 
 pages, some of which, however, were more prevalent 
 in one province, others in another, were all practised 
 on the followers of Christ during the greater part of 
 the first three centuries. But it was chiefly during 
 the latter persecutions that they were brought into 
 awfully frequent use, and inflicted with a reckless and 
 inhuman ferocity, altogether unparalleled in the annals 
 of history. The enemies of Christianit}'-, goaded to 
 madness by the amazing progress it was making in 
 every quarter, seemed like incarnate demons let loose 
 to torment the w^orld for a season. The polished cities 
 of Greece and Rome were in those days as much the 
 habitations of horrid cruelty, as the most barbarous 
 regions of Africa at the present time — and the infer- 
 nal contrivances which were every where introduced, 
 for the slow murder of the Christians, will remain an 
 eternal monument of the intolerant and sanguinary 
 spirit of every false religion. Those extreme punish- 
 ments, however, were often not resorted to, until the 
 rack had failed to secure the apostasy or shake the 
 resolution of the Christian prisoners. To obtain a 
 consummation so ardently wished for, as their re- 
 turn to idolatry, the heathen magistrates, especially 
 from the reign of Diocletian, were accustomed, before 
 dooming any to the cross or the stake, to order a series 
 of preliminary severities, more or less excruciating 
 and protracted, according to the weak and wavering 
 appearance, or the bold and inflexible demeanour of the 
 parties, under examination for their connection with 
 Christianity, Not only was the tortm-e employe^ 
 
362 TRIALS. 
 
 indiscriminately on Christians of every name and rank 
 — on senators, philosophers, as well as the meanest 
 in the church — although, in ordinary circumstances, it 
 was applied only to slaves ; — but an infinite variety 
 of tortures was practised, in order that the strange 
 appearance and unknown effects of these instruments 
 of punishments might appal the convert, and make 
 his resolution falter through the infirmity of nature. 
 In some cases not a limb was broken, not an eye ex- 
 tinguished, nor a drop of blood shed ; but every part 
 of the body was subjected to the most violent disten- 
 tion, screwed into the narrowest compass, exposed to 
 intolerable vicissitudes of heat and cold, and annoyed 
 in every possible M^ay in which the human frame 
 was capable of suffering. In others, the apparatus of 
 torture, adapted for the hands, the feet, the legs, and 
 the shoulders, was applied in succession to all those 
 different members, and did its horrid work so effec- 
 tually, as to disable the sufferer for life, or make nature 
 sink through extremity of pain, in the hands of the 
 tormentors, before the judge had proceeded to doom 
 him to any of the usual modes of public execution. 
 Men of rank, philosophy, and refinement, became as 
 ambitious of the glory of devising refinements in cruelty 
 for the odious race of Christians, as others in happier 
 times are of the merit of making useful inventions. 
 Rew^ards were offered for new engines of execution, 
 calculated, not like the maiden or the guillotine, in 
 modern times, to expedite the work of death, but to 
 produce the most painful sensations consistently with 
 the continuance of life ; and so eager was the compe- 
 tition for the profits and honours awarded to the 
 successful competitors, that every species of suffer- 
 ing which imagination could devise, and mechanical 
 ingenuity produce, was brought into use. Those 
 magistrates who loaded mth money and favour the 
 contrivers of new engines of torture, were of all others 
 the most determined opponents of Christianity. Their 
 
THE RAjCK. 363 
 
 o])ject being not to kill, but to torment — not to rid 
 the world of a set of deluded enthusiasts, so much as 
 to win them back as trophies to the honour of Pagan- 
 ism — not to weaken the empire by the loss of so many 
 subjects, so much as to render them what they thought 
 tractable and obedient to its la\YS and customs, they 
 employed the most anxious means to proportion the 
 punishments of the Christians to theii" strength — to 
 recover them when they fainted, and to prevent them 
 attaining the martyrdom they longed for. On persons 
 of obscure condition, or who a2)peared for the first time 
 before a tribunal, on a charge of having become Chris- 
 tians, the ordinary form of the rack was employed. 
 But pastors and deacons of churches, and Christians 
 who displayed an invincible attachment to their faith, 
 or who had been more than once on their trial for 
 adopting the illicit religion, were made to pass through 
 a severer ordeal. Instruments unknown in the crimi- 
 nal practice of Rome, and many of them never seen 
 till the moment of their being produced in court — 
 appalling by their gigantic magnitude, or the myste- 
 rious terrors with Avhich they were arrayed, tried the 
 fortitude of such influential and determined opponents 
 of the established worship. After the first paroxysm 
 of suffering was over, the question was again put in 
 a stern and solemn voice from the bench, *•' Will you 
 now renounce Christ ? Are you prepared to sacrifice ? " 
 The silence or the denial of the prisoner was instantly 
 followed by a fresh signal to repeat the torture, or to 
 carry him back to his cell, whence he should be 
 brought out at another time for fresh barbarities. 
 This alternate course of torture and confinement mul- 
 titudes endured for years, till either death released 
 them from further sufferinps, or thev gratified their 
 persecutors by a base recantation. Some magistrates, 
 who had rendered themselves notorious by the intro- 
 duction of every variety of infernal machines, were 
 wont to make it a matter of public boasting, that their 
 
864. TRIALS. 
 
 administration was unstained by the effusion of human 
 blood ; and a Bithynian governor in particular, cele- 
 brated as a glorious victory, the fall of a Christian, 
 who, after two years of unbending fortitude, sank 
 under the incessant application of his refined cruelties, 
 and purchased inglorious release, by denying the Lord 
 that bought him. 
 
 Trials in which the torture was employed, are fami- 
 liar to the student of church history ; ^ and in regard 
 to all of them that occurred in the times of the latter 
 Pagan emperors of Rome, it may be remarked, that 
 endless as was the variety of new tortures then intro- 
 duced into the practice of the tribunals, the applica- 
 tion of thera was not left altogether to the caprice or 
 humour of the magistrate, but was regulated by the 
 rule of custom, which had both originated a set of 
 leading questions relative to the acknowledgment of 
 the power and worship of the gods, and the abjuring 
 of Christianity, and had determined that every nega- 
 tive answered to one of those questions should be fol- 
 lowed by its appropriate measure of punishment or 
 mode of torture. Indeed, so much of the duty of a 
 Roman magistrate, towards the close of the first three 
 centuries, consisted in judging in matters of religion, 
 that a large part of the jurisprudence of the empire 
 Avas employed in fixing a scale, according to which 
 degrees of punishment or torture should be awarded 
 to the adherents of the new and illegal worship. The 
 fame of the celebrated lawyer, Ulpian, arose from the 
 skill and industry with which he classified and com- 
 mented on the laws respecting the treatment of the 
 Christians ; and incredible as it may seem, no incon- 
 
 * Several example? of such trials will be found in Lord Hailes' Remains 
 of Christian Antiquity. We liave given the above at large, not from any 
 fondness for such scenes of inhuman barbarity, but that tlie modern reader 
 may know something of the terrible ordeal thrnugli which the primitive 
 Christians were made to pass in contending for the faith once delivered to 
 the saints. To this harrowing recital we may apply an observation made 
 by the ancient historian Ensebius, on a similar case : — " I doubt not that 
 the things which ensued will appear incredible to every one except eye- 
 witnesses, yet must I needs record them." 
 
MARTYRS — CONFESSORS. 365 
 
 siderable portion of the learning and experience of the 
 age was bestowed on describing the most approved and 
 certain means of recovering those under torture from 
 fainting, and of preserving them for fresh sufferings. 
 
 The application of these systematic tortures to the 
 primitive Christians, was not more inhuman and bar- 
 barous in itself, than the object for which they Avere 
 practised was a violation of every principle of justice. 
 In all other cases, where the Roman law sanctioned 
 the use of the torture, the design Avas to bring out a 
 confession of guilt from the accused, and by prostrat- 
 ing his resolution through extremity of pain, to extort 
 from him that information wliich threats and persua- 
 sion were ineffectual to obtain. The thief was racked 
 in order that he might be brought to confess his robbery, 
 — the murderer that he might plead guilty to the deed 
 of blood, — the wretch who was accused of treasonable 
 designs against the State, that he might name his 
 accomplices in the conspiracy, and make a full dis- 
 closure of all the circumstances of the plot ; and how- 
 ever revolting to humanity, and at variance with all 
 enlightened ideas of judicial procedure, were such 
 violent means of convicting the accused, many pru- 
 dential reasons could be urged to justify their employ- 
 ment, in cases where persons, charged with crimes 
 that threatened the peace and stability of society, could 
 not be otherwise wrought upon to admit their guilt. 
 But never till the religion of Christ became an object 
 of persecution, and a war of extermination was pro- 
 claimed against the Christian name, was it heard of, 
 that men were subjected to torture, in order that they 
 might be made, not to confess^ but deny the crime 
 imputed to them. The Christians at once, and unre- 
 servedly, confessed that they were followers of Christ, 
 — that they observed his worship, and studied the 
 Scriptures. Instead, however, of their frank confession 
 being of any avail to them, the torture was forthwith 
 applied, to force them to depart from it, and they who 
 
 A a 
 
366 TRIALS. 
 
 adhered to that expression of their faith were generally 
 tried by the rack, with a measure of severity propor- 
 tioned to the firm and manly resolution with which 
 they " witnessed the good confession." Stedfastness 
 was followed by an increase of tortures, and the scourge 
 or the flesh-hooks, the horse, or a night in the stocks, 
 was the doom of the intrepid believer who was resolv- 
 ed to obey God rather than man. But the moment 
 he denied Christ, or his attachment to the Gospel 
 appeared to waver, — the moment he consented to join 
 in the rites of idolatry, or render the slightest token of 
 homage to the gods, the executioner was stopped in 
 his horrid office, and the instruments of torture disap- 
 peared. To other criminals, of whatever description, 
 who concealed or falsified, the utmost violence was 
 used to force them to confess the truth of the accusa- 
 tion against them. To the Christians, ^vho concealed 
 nothing, who disclosed all, the same inhuman violence 
 was employed, to make them renounce their confession, 
 and proclaim themselves to be what they really were 
 not. 
 
 Nor was this the only strange feature of the pro- 
 ceedings carried on at the Roman tribunals against the 
 Christians. The whole course of the judicial inquiries 
 of the magistrates, — the entire principles they adopted 
 in acquitting and condemning the believers, were, in 
 every respect, the reverse of what they adopted in 
 other cases. Criminals accused of the greatest out- 
 rages against the laws of society were, in Rome, as in 
 every well-regulated State, considered innocent till 
 their guilt was proven. Counsel were allowed them, 
 and the most patient and impartial examination was 
 made into the whole amount of evidence against them, 
 ere punishment of any kind could be awarded against 
 Roman citizens. But, in the case of Christians, no 
 private or professional friend was allowed to speak in 
 their defence, — no witnesses were summoned in their 
 cause, — not the slightest investigation was made into 
 
MARTYRS — CONFESSORS. 367 
 
 the circumstances alleged against their character or 
 their life, beyond some inquiries into their willingness 
 to sacrifice and return to the worship of the gods. The 
 Christians were by law not to be searched after, — an 
 enactment which was clearly founded on a tacit as- 
 sumption of their innocence, — and yet it was ordained, 
 that when they were brought to the tribunals, they 
 were to be punished as criminals. The Christians 
 Avere charged with the murder of infants, with feast- 
 ing on human flesh, and with a variety of unnatural 
 crimes ; and yet, although no one was ever found able 
 or willing to depone to the truth of those calumnies, — 
 although no magistrate, notwithstanding all his ofiicial 
 powers to enter the assemblies of the believers at all 
 times, and with the prospect of a civic crown, and the 
 applause of the whole empire to animate his researches, 
 ever made the discovery of any such enormities being- 
 practised by that people, their name w^as identified 
 with the blackest iniquity. The Christians were re- 
 puted the worst of men, — without religion, — without 
 morality, — disaffected to the emperors, — the common 
 enemies of mankind, — the greatest criminals in the 
 world ; and yet, on their simply bowing to an image, 
 or throwing a few grains of incense upon an altar, 
 the magistrates were willing, with all those alleged 
 enormities, to let them loose on society. The burden 
 of the accusations brought against them was their 
 name, and the grand object sought at the tribunals, 
 was to induce them to abjure it ; and yet it must 
 have been manifest, that the name might have been 
 abandoned, while attachment to all that was obnoxi- 
 ous in Christianity continued as ardent and stedfast 
 as ever.* In short, in the whole of these trials, every 
 dictate of humanity, every principle of honour, every 
 consideration of enlightened policy, Avas set at defiance. 
 But why speak of justice and consistency, or look for 
 any traces of calm and impartial legislation, in pro- 
 
 * These arguments are dwelt upon with great power, and at great 
 length, by Tertullian, Apol., chap. 11. 
 
368 TRIALS. 
 
 ceedmgs wliicli originated in, and were throughout 
 characterised by, a combination of malice and igno- 
 rance, wliich the Roman magistrates and people would 
 not have tolerated in any other case. Entertaining 
 universally the most rooted detestation to the Chris- 
 tian name, — in their vehement desire to extirpate 
 which, all classes eagerly vied with each other, — they 
 showed a firm determination to keep themselves in 
 ignorance of what the Christians either were or did. 
 And hence, to use the w ords of Tertullian, — " nothing- 
 is attended to in their trials, but how to inflame the 
 mob, and, therefore, the inquiry is about the name 
 only. All greedily devour the most infamous reports 
 against them, and are so averse to any legal inquiry, 
 lest those reports should prove false, which they are 
 anxious should be received as true, that the odious 
 name of Christian might be condemned upon pre- 
 sumption, without the risk of insufficient proof, and 
 that the bare confession of that name might be equi- 
 valent to a conviction of the crimes imputed to those 
 who hold it. Hence it is, that when they proceed to 
 judgment, and read over the catalogues of those they 
 pass sentence against, they mention the name only. 
 They make no allusion to the infanticide, the incest, 
 and the other monstrous crimes imputed to the Chris- 
 tians. They alone are the persons you are ashamed 
 to condemn, without specifying the actions you con- 
 demn them for. If a Christian is proved guilty of ho 
 crime, the name surely must be of a most singular 
 nature, to involve such criminality in itself alone." * 
 Such being the tremendous pains and penalties to 
 which those who in the first ages confessed Christ 
 before men, and adopted the name of Christians, were 
 exposed, what reason have we to bless God, that the 
 times are so happily changed, that we are not now 
 called to endure the same fiery ordeal, and that, in 
 unbroken peace and security, we can maintain our 
 religious profession ! 
 
 * TertuUian's Apology, chap. ii. 
 
MARTYRS. 369 
 
 Those who died under the violent tortures to which 
 they were subjected, were alone at first honoured with 
 the designation of martyrs ; while those who were 
 redeemed from slavery, or returned fi'om exile, went 
 under the general name of confessors, — a name which 
 in primitive times was held in the highest estimation, 
 and which, implying that they who bore it had suf- 
 fered on account of their religion, or had made some 
 public confession of Christ before the tribunals of their 
 country, came afterwards to bear the same meaning 
 with that of martyrs. Notwithstanding the elaborate 
 attempts that have been made by some writers in 
 modern times, admirers of the political constitution 
 and the imperial masters of the Roman world, to re- 
 duce the number of the martyrs to an inconsiderable 
 amount, and to treat as fabulous and romantic the 
 story of their extraordinary wrongs, there is unchal- 
 lengeable evidence, that those who in primitive times 
 suffered on account of their attachment to the Chris- 
 tian faith, comprehended a prodigious multitude. It 
 is impossible, indeed, owing to the anomalous course 
 of all persecutions, and the want of contemporary re- 
 cords in many parts of the world, which were anciently 
 the distracted seat of those disorders, to form any ac- 
 curate estimate of the numbers who, during the long 
 period that intervened between the age of the apostles 
 and the establishment of Christianity, sealed their tes- 
 timony to the truth with their blood. But as, during 
 the whole of that time, the Church was harassed by 
 an almost unbroken series of assaults from Avithout, — 
 as there can scarce! v be said to have been an interval, 
 however short, during the course of the three first 
 centuries, when war was not waged in some of the 
 numerous provinces of the empire against the devoted 
 Christians ; — as multitudes of that obnoxious class, in 
 every walk of life, perished amid the excesses of popu- 
 lar tumult, or by the secret violence of unbelieving 
 relatives, without a memorial of their name, or a 
 
370 TRIALS. 
 
 record of their existence being transmitted to posterity, 
 — there is evidently no exaggeration in affirming, that 
 the number of martyrdoms must have been immensely 
 great. It is admitted that there were many, especi- 
 ally towards the latter half of the primitive age, who, 
 though they met with a premature and violent death 
 on accoimt of their connection with Christianity, seem 
 to have had very doubtful claims to be ranked in the 
 character of martyrs. Forgetting the salutary admo- 
 nition of Christ to his earliest disciples, when they 
 were persecuted in one place, to flee to another, mul- 
 titudes of Christians in that declining period of the 
 Church, courted, rather than shunned, the fire or the 
 sword of their enemies ; and thinking that they could 
 not too soon attain the crown of glory, which was 
 promised to such as are faithful unto death, rushed 
 into the presence of the Pagan magistrates and priests, 
 proclaiming themselves to be Christians, and thereby 
 hoping to anticipate the change which might other- 
 wise too slowly arrive in the natural course of provi- 
 dence. In some, this violent desire of suffering, which 
 at one period strongly prevailed, arose, there is reason 
 to think, from mixed motives, one of which might be 
 ambition of the extraordinary honours that were heap- 
 ed on the memory, and the pious care that was taken 
 of the mortal remains of those who perilled their lives 
 for the sake of the truth ; — honoui's, the witnessing 
 of which had produced in their minds the highest 
 admiration of that kind of death, and a vehement wish 
 to tread the same thorny path to the glory that follow- 
 ed it, both in this world and in the next.* In others, 
 
 * This conduct was disapproved of by tlie more enlightened and pious 
 in the ancient Church. — Fleury, Hist. Eccles., ii. 465. "That the poor 
 hunted Christians should take to cover, was the precept of their heavenly 
 Master, and it was religiously observed by the sober Christians of the pri- 
 mitiveages. Some, indeed, of warm imaginations, chose to be more zeal- 
 ous than their Lord recommended, and encountered^/<«< persecution which 
 He had counselled them to shun. The progress of Christianity was mar- 
 vellously rapid ; and hence one great argument of its divine origin ; yet, 
 probably, the progress of Christianity would have been more rapid, and 
 the argument thence arising would have been more illustrious, had the 
 persecuted Christians always observed the precept which our Lord gave 
 them."— Hailes' Christ. Antiq., vol. ii. p. 107. 
 
MARTYRS. 371 
 
 there is as little doubt, it proceeded solely from a 
 pure and fervid, but mistaken zeal, wbich deemed 
 it a duty on all occasions, however unseasonable, and 
 by every means, however extravagant, to bear testi- 
 mony to the honour and cause of Christ, and which 
 was often so imprudently displayed, as seriously to 
 injure the cause it honestly meant to advance. In 
 this description we rank the conduct of two Christian 
 brothers, Apphian and Q^desius, who, in the reign of 
 Diocletian, suffered at different times indeed, but in 
 circumstances nearly the same. The first was a young 
 man of twenty, of high literary accomplishments, 'who, 
 parting with his family, and relinquishing all the hopes 
 of emolument and distinction which his rank in life 
 held out to him, for the sake of the Gospel, emigrated 
 from his native Lycia to Cesarea. He had been only 
 a few days in that provincial capital, when, at a pub- 
 lic festival which the governor, Urbanus, celebrated 
 in person, he ran towards the magistrate, at the mo- 
 ment he was making a libation, and seizing him by 
 the right arm, boldly commanded him, in presence of 
 the assembled people, to cease from his idolatrous act 
 of worship, and then proceeded, in a hasty manner, to 
 exhort him to turn from idols to the living God. As 
 might have been expected, he paid on the spot the 
 penalty of his imprudent interference. Being appre- 
 hended by some of the guard, he was ordered to sacri- 
 fice, and on refusal, was subjected to a series of the 
 most dreadful tortures, after which his mangled body 
 was tossed into the sea. His brother, CEdesius, who 
 was still more eminent as a young philosopher, had 
 also been converted to the principles of the Christian 
 faith, and gave ample proof of his sincerity, by his un- 
 dergoing frequent imprisonments, and by the grinding 
 servitude he endured for years in the mines of Pales- 
 tine. Restored at length to liberty, he visited Alex- 
 andria, where, among the first objects of his curiosity, 
 as usual with foreign Christians in those days, he re- 
 
372 TRIALS. 
 
 paired to the tribunal to hear any cause that might be 
 in the course of trial relating to Christianity. The pre- 
 siding judge was the philosopher Hierocles, who was 
 carrying matters against the poor Christians with a 
 high hand, inflicting every species of torture upon the 
 men, and condemning young as well as elderly women 
 to the most infamous usage. Indignant at the unprin- 
 cipled defiance of all justice and moderation in the 
 proceedings, the young CEdesius forgot his situation, 
 addressed a pointed rebuke to the governor, and struck 
 him a violent blow. Lingering tortures were instantly 
 ordered for the indiscreet assailant — who ere long died 
 under their violent effects. The sincere, but injudi- 
 cious zeal of these two brothers, was the fault of the 
 age rather than of the men.""' Imperfectly acquainted 
 with the rules of the Gospel, and blending with its 
 spirit the influence of a false philosophy, the Chris- 
 tians of those days, with all the sincerity that fitted 
 them for becoming martyrs, wanted much of the sim- 
 plicity and meekness of the Christian character; and 
 hence, many of them, thromng themselves, from pure 
 and exalted motives, indeed, but in an obtrusive and 
 offensive manner, in the way of the heathen magis- 
 trates, met a violent end, which must be laid at the 
 door, not so much of the enemies of Christ, as of their 
 own forward and imprudent behaviour. Besides these, 
 there were a few, and but a few, who, from want of 
 courage to face the tortm'es with which ,'they were 
 threatened, yet ardently attached to Christianity, 
 thought themselves justified in anticipating the fate 
 that certainly awaited them, by committing suicide. 
 Men precipitated themselves from the roofs of high 
 houses, or the tops of lofty trees, and women threw 
 themselves into the sea in order to avoid a worse mis- 
 fortune from the hands of the licentious soldiers, f 
 Nor were there wanting some also, who, charged with 
 
 * So entirely were such acts in accordance with the prevailing spirit of 
 the times, that the historian Eusebius uniformly commends them, 
 t Eusebius, book iii. chap. xvi. ; Fleury, Hist. EccL. ii. p. 570. 
 
NUMBER OF MARTYRS. 373 
 
 capital crimes, or with defrauding the public revenue, 
 and liable to be tried as felons, exposed themselves to 
 be apprehended, under the assumed name of Chris- 
 tians, with the view either of dpng, what was thought 
 by some a more honourable death, or experiencing the 
 benefits of Christian charity in prison. But still, after 
 the most liberal deductions from the lists of reputed 
 confessors — of those whose claims to that high char- 
 acter were entirely spurious as well as of those whose 
 sufferings and death were the direct consequences of 
 their own indiscreet zeal — the numbers that remain 
 to compose the noble araiy of martyrs are, to the dis- 
 grace of humanity and the honour of religion, great 
 almost beyond belief. It is a gross violation of the 
 truth of history, to represent the enemies of Chris- 
 tianity as confining their selection of victims to the 
 opposite extremes of society ; — as, on the one hand, 
 making examples principally of the pastors and other 
 influential characters of the Church, whose violent fate 
 might strike terror into the rest of the Christiaji body ; 
 or else, on the other, wreaking their fellest vengeance 
 on such believers as were of a servile condition, about 
 whose lives, the manners of antiquity naturally dis- 
 posed the Romans to entertain a careless indifference.* 
 The authorities adduced for such statements, far from 
 supporting such a view of the limited rank and num- 
 ber of the martyrs, speak a very different language, 
 and none but those who have read the ancient history 
 of the Church with eyes completely blinded, or strongly 
 jaundiced by prejudice, could have adopted an opinion 
 so strangely at variance with the entire spirit and 
 tenor of the testimonies borne by the fathers and eye- 
 witnesses of the persecutions. Vague and rhetorical 
 expressions, indeed, and statements drawn in the 
 exaggerating style of an orator, which represent the 
 empire as deluged with rivers of Christian blood, or 
 describe cities as entirely destroyed, no sincere in- 
 
 * Gibbon, chap. xvi. 
 
374< TRIALS. 
 
 quirer after truth will found upon, as determining the 
 number of those who suffered for righteousness' sake, 
 any more than he will admit the spurious evidence of 
 those legendary tales which were given to the world, 
 when the credulity of later ages received, on the most 
 slender grounds, every new claimant for the honours 
 of martj^rdom. But still, in the more ancient and 
 sober records of the Church, there is a melancholy 
 abundance of materials to enable us to ascertain the 
 truth with as near an approach to precision as the 
 nature of the subject will admit of; and without 
 meaning to assert, that there were " legions of martyrs" 
 in primitive times, as an eminent writer sneeringly 
 calls them, we pronounce it to be an undeniable fact, 
 that latterly every real and stedfast Christian, of what- 
 ever rank or profession, was involved in the general 
 crusade against the religion of Jesus, and that vast 
 numbers were brought to a premature and violent 
 death. Indeed, the reader has only to reflect on what 
 the passions of men are capable of perpetrating, when 
 roused into action, without any check or control, and 
 he cannot doubt, that the number of those who died 
 in the cause of Christ must have been far greater than 
 could be related by any historian. Multitudes, who 
 were never brought before the eyes of the world, died 
 of their tortures in prison, or by hard labour in the 
 mines. Multitudes also, who took refuge in the 
 deserts and among the mountains, perished of cold, 
 hunger, and thirst, or became a prey to beasts and 
 robbers. * Eusebius tells us, that at one period in 
 Eg)"pt, the Christians were executed to the number 
 of 10, 20, sometimes even 100 a-day ; and that in 
 another place, when he was on the spot, so many 
 lieads were struck off, that the hatchet became blunted 
 
 * Among those who did so, was a venerable bishop of one of the chief 
 cities in Egypt, with his wife. He had taken refuge among the solitudes of 
 an Arabian mountain, where both of them died — by what means is un- 
 known—as no trace of them could be found beyond a few mouldering 
 bones. * 
 
NUMBER OF MARTYRS. 375 
 
 — that more than one of the axes was broken, and 
 that the executioners were so wearied with slaughter, 
 that they took their horrid office by turns. * Tertul- 
 lian informs us, that 20,000 Christians were burned 
 by Diocletian's order on one Christmas Day. t And 
 " Monsieur Godeau reckons, that in the last persecu- 
 tion, there were no fewer than 17,000 persons killed in 
 one month's space — that in the province of Egypt alone 
 during the same persecution, no less than 144,000 
 died by the violence of the persecutors, and 700,000 
 perished through the fatigues of banishment, or of the 
 public works to which they were condemned.";}: The 
 whole amount of Christians who were martyred by the 
 Roman emperors, during the three first centuries, is 
 estimated by Jerome to be at the rate of 5000 a-day 
 every day in the year except one — that is, they put to 
 death, at different times during the primitive age, 
 1,820,000 souls.§ 
 
 So effectually was the last persecution supposed to 
 have crushed the Christian faith, that pillars Avere 
 erected in honour of the emperor, with these inscrip- 
 tions, — " Diocletian, Jovian, Maximian, Hercules, for 
 haAang extended the Roman empire in the east and 
 west, and for having extinguished the name of Chris- 
 tians, who brought the republic to ruin." " Diocle- 
 tian Cesar Augustus, for having adopted Galerius in 
 the east, for having every where abolished the super- 
 stition of Christ." Stronger evidence could not be 
 adduced, than what these inscriptions afford, that the 
 enemies of Christianity were implacable, and that the 
 persecutions they waged against it were a^N-fully profuse 
 in Christian blood. 
 
 It is a painful task to record such scenes of inhuman 
 cruelty and blood, as those which have been described 
 
 * Fleury, Hist. Eccles., ii. p. 212-435. 
 t Eusebius quoted Fleury. ii. p. 428. 
 
 i Calamy's Sermon on Matt. xvi. 18.— The reign of Diocletian was 
 emphatically called by Christians, "The Era of Martyrs." 
 § Simpson's Plea for Religion. 
 
376 TRIALS. 
 
 in the preceding pages, — more especially when we re- 
 member, that the mihappy victims to whom the rack, 
 the stake, combats with wild beasts, and the refusal of 
 the decencies of burial, were so barbarously aAvarded, 
 were not of that vile and abandoned class, who for- 
 feit by their crimes all claims on the sympathies of 
 men, and deserve the wretched end to which they are 
 doomed ; but persons of unblemished reputation, vir- 
 tuous principles, and most peaceful habits ; w^ho, hav- 
 ing embraced the doctrines of Christ as the only true 
 religion, Avere too honest to disguise their opinions, or 
 who, to say the worst, committed no greater crime 
 than to betray an imprudent zeal in proclaiming truths 
 which they believed inseparably associated with the 
 glory of God, and the highest interests of man. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 NOTICES OF EMINENT MARTYkS — POLYCARP— PTOLEMY AND LUCIUS — PER- 
 SECUTION AT LYONS— BIBLIAS—FRUCTUOSUS — PERPETUA AND FELICITAS 
 —CYPRIAN— CYRIL— SAPRICIUS AND NICEPHORUS— ROMANUS— EUPLIUS 
 —MAXlMUS—lREN-aEUS— PHILIP— MARTYRS OF C^SAREA— FELIX. 
 
 If we were asked to specify the periods of history 
 that furnish the amplest materials for tales of roman- 
 tic interest and tragic adventui'e, we should appeal to 
 those times that have been most deeply convulsed by 
 struggles for religious liberty and the rights of con- 
 science ; and among those periods, we should, with- 
 out hesitation, appeal to the history of the primitive 
 age of the Church, as, from the long duration of the 
 war against Christianity, and the extensive field on 
 which it was fought, pre-eminently fertile in narra- 
 tives exhibiting the most exalted virtue in circum- 
 stances of severest difficulty and distress. When we 
 consider the multitudes of men and women of whom 
 the world was not worthy, who, because they could 
 not violate the dictates of conscience, and disobey 
 God, were, for years, condemned to pine in the 
 dungeon and labour in the mines, uncheered by the 
 light of the sun or the presence of a fi-iend ; and the 
 many others who were hunted like partridges on the 
 mountains, and obliged to hide themselves in dens 
 and caves of the earth, — to brave the rigours of the 
 
378 TRIALS. 
 
 season, and endure the want of food and clothing, or 
 were pressed into the service of pirates, or carried off 
 by robbers and sold as slaves ; — when we think of 
 the many ties of nature, the parental and filial bonds 
 which the adoption of Christianity so painfully severed, 
 or the cruel vows formed, and expeditions entered 
 into by the heathen, to drag their believing fathers or 
 sons from their places of concealment, and, perhaps, 
 Brutus-hke, plunge the poignard into their bosoms 
 by their own unnatural hands ; — when we think of 
 all the indignities and the dangers which the foregoing- 
 pages have described, as besetting the path of the pri" 
 mitive Christians, it must appear that their times and 
 their history yield to none, or rather surpass every other, 
 in stories of harrowing interest and individual misfor- 
 tune. But so many of these stories of the lives of the 
 martyrs have, through the embellishment of credulous 
 and of superstitious admirers, become disfigured with 
 incredible wonders, and so many more date their origin 
 at a later period, when the invention of legends of the 
 saints had become a source of profitable speculation, 
 that we think it better to leave them to the obHvion 
 they deserve, than endeavour to swell our volume with 
 a recital of laborious travels, hair-breadth escapes, and 
 strange deliverances, in which, though they might give 
 to our pages the interest of tales of romance, it is dif- 
 ficult to distinguish what is true from what is fictitious. 
 The ecclesiastical historians of the period, in giving 
 an account of the martyrs, have, in general, contented 
 themselves with detailing the circumstances that at- 
 tended their apprehension, and the Christian noble- 
 ness of deportment they exhibited at their death, — 
 being more desirous to record what may be useful for 
 the instruction and imitation of posterity, than what 
 might tend to delight the fancy or to interest the feel- 
 ings of their readers ; and, in proposing to dedicate 
 this chapter to a description of some of those bright 
 stars, the lustre of whose faith and virtues illumined 
 
POLYCARP. 379 
 
 the horizon of the primitive age, we shall, after their 
 example, reject those moving accidents by flood and 
 field, and that machinery of supernatural agents, 
 which some later writers have allowed themselves to 
 introduce for the purpose of dignifying the subjects of 
 their story, and confine ourselves to those authentic 
 incidehts relating to the close of their lives, which 
 have been transmitted through the pui'cst channels of 
 history. 
 
 Among the Christians who fell under the persecuting 
 sword of the emperor Aurelius, the most eminent for 
 station and character was Polycarp. That venerable 
 man had filled the ofl5ce of pastor in the Church of 
 Smyrna for more than eighty years, and had won 
 golden opinions among all classes of Christians for 
 his fervent zeal and fidelity to his ministerial duties, 
 and for the uncommon piety and excellence of his 
 character. Moreover, he had been the familiar friend 
 of John, and was then the only surviving contem- 
 porary of the apostles, a circumstance which contri- 
 buted in no small degree to inspire the reverence of 
 his Christian brethren ; and having drunk deep of the 
 sources of heavenly comfort and joy which are con- 
 tained in the Gospel, his presence and ministry were 
 an invaluable treasure to the Christians, at a time 
 " when men's hearts were failing them for fear." On 
 a festive occasion in the city, when, as usual, a series 
 of public shows were contemplated for the amusement 
 of the people, the introduction of some Christians into 
 the amphitheatre to fight with wild beasts, was re- 
 solved on as a grateful addition to the sports of the 
 day. Polycarp being, of course, one of the first in- 
 cluded in the lists of the doomed, his sorrowing friends 
 prevailed on him, with great difficulty, to take refuge 
 in an obscure village in the neighbourhood, where, in 
 the society of a few of his brethren who accompanied 
 him, he occupied himself, as usual, day and night, in 
 offering up prayer for the peace and prosperity of all 
 
380 TRIALS. 
 
 the churches. His asylum being at length discovered, 
 he got notice just in time to escape the hands of the 
 police, who, finding themselves disappointed in the 
 object of their pursuit, seized two of his servants, 
 and forced them, by torture, to betray the second re- 
 treat of their master. In consequence of this infor- 
 mation, the house to which he had fled was suddenly 
 surrounded ; and although Polycarp, who was engaged 
 in his devotions in the upper storey, might easily have 
 effected his escape along the flat roofs of the houses, 
 yet, concluding that his hour, which he had long fore- 
 seen, was now come, and meekly saying — "The will 
 of God be done," he went down to surrender himself 
 to the oflicers. It being about the usual supper time, 
 and learning that his pursuers were overcome with 
 the fatigue of a whole day's travel, he courteously pro- 
 vided an ample refreshment for them; and begged 
 only in return, that, while they were busy eating and 
 drinking, he might be allowed one hour to continue 
 his devotions. His request was granted, and out of 
 the abundance of his heart, which overflowed with the 
 grace of God, he poured forth his supplication for the 
 space of two hours with a fervour, benevolence, and 
 holy earnestness, which so rivetted the attention, and 
 touched the feelings of the ruthless soldiery, that some 
 of them almost hesitated to lay hands on so venerable 
 a man. At the conclusion of the impressive scene, he 
 rose, and having intimated to the officers that he was 
 ready to follow them, he was placed on an ass and 
 conducted to the city. On his way to Smyrna he 
 was met by Herod, one of the chief magistrates, who, 
 along with his father Nicetes, aff*ected to treat him 
 with so much sympathy and kindness as to take him 
 into their chariot. Many a flattering argument — 
 many an anxious effort they made to shake his con- 
 stancy, but finding it impregnable, they violently thrust 
 him out of the vehicle, and obliged him to walk the 
 rest of his journey on foot with his guards. On the 
 
PTOLEMY AND LUCIUS. 381 
 
 news of Polycarp's arrival at the ampliltheatre, shouts 
 of wild and tumultuous joy were raised by the crowded 
 populace ; and although several Christians had been 
 sacrificed, their insatiable thirst for the blood of the 
 devoted disciples could not be appeased until the man 
 who was universally reputed their chief met the fate 
 of his brethren. " This," was resounded from all 
 quarters, "• is the father of the Christians — the enemy 
 of the gods, — who teaches multitudes not to sacrifice 
 nor offer any worship." And the utmost impatience 
 was manifested to see him enjjaijed in mortal combat 
 with a lion. But the proconsul, who, as well as the 
 officers, was strongly prepossessed in favour of the 
 aged bishop, and probably wished to save him, refused 
 to give the orders, on the pretext that the appointed 
 time for the exhibition of these furious fights had ex- 
 pired. " Let him be burnt alive, then," was the fran- 
 tic cry of the enraged and disappointed crowd ; upon 
 Avhich Philip, finding himself compelled to comply, 
 gave the signal, and immediately Jew and Gentile 
 ran with the most impetuous haste to fetch wood 
 from the workshops, market-places, baths, and where- 
 ever they could most readily find it, to construct the 
 funeral pile of the devoted Christian. During these 
 preparations, some of the officers stepped forward to 
 tie his hands behind his back, and fasten him with 
 nails to the pile, but begging them to leave him free, 
 he stretched out his hands, after the fashion of the 
 primitive age, in prayer ; and while he was expressing 
 his joy and gratitude for being counted worthy to 
 suffer for the name, and commending his soul into 
 the hands of his Saviour, the flames arose, choked 
 his farther utterance, and in a short time reduced his 
 body to ashes. His martyrdom happened in the 
 year 166.» 
 
 In the same year, Ptolemy and Lucius suffered at 
 Rome in circumstances that gave a singular interest 
 
 * Hailes' Christ. Antiq., toL i. p. 9. 
 Bb 
 
382 TRIALS. 
 
 to the story of their martyrdom. The detection and 
 condemnation of these two Christians arose acciden- 
 tally out of their connection, which was remote, with 
 the case of a female convert, whose altered character 
 and views had called forth the angry and vindictive 
 passions of her husband. Previous to her adoption 
 of the Christian faith, this woman, it appears, had 
 led, together v^ith her partner, a most abandoned life ; 
 and being convinced that such loose and profligate 
 habits were utterly inconsistent with the purity of the 
 Gospel, she had not only herself renounced them at 
 her baptism, but directed her most earnest and per- 
 severino; efforts to reclaim her husband from his irre- 
 gular and vicious course of life. His mind, however, 
 continuing unaltered, frequent and violent feuds dis- 
 turbed their domestic intercourse, all of which she 
 bore with the meekness and patience of a Christian, 
 and betook herself to fervent prayer that the Lord 
 would open the heart of her degraded and guilty hus- 
 band, as he did that of Lydia, to attend to the things 
 spoken by her. The wished for change, however, did 
 not take place ; and, as he every day plunged deeper 
 into vice, and, of course, grew more violent and in- 
 tolerable in his bearing towards her, she resolved on 
 the painful step of a separation. Impelled by im- 
 placable rage, he informed against her as a Christian ; 
 and, on some obstacle being interposed to her appear- 
 ance at the tribunal, he transferred the whole weight 
 of his vengeance on Ptolemy, who was a much re- 
 spected friend of hers, and her instructor in Christi- 
 anity. Him, also, he publicly accused of being a 
 disciple of the forbidden worship ; and, as Ptolemy 
 was too honest to dissemble, and too strong in the faith 
 to abandon it from any fear of temporal consequences, 
 he was forthwith cast into prison. After having lain 
 a long time in confinement, he was brought out for 
 a fresh examination as to his religion, and having to 
 every inquiry returned the uniform answer that he was 
 
PERSECUTION AT LYONS. 383 
 
 a Christian, he was ordered for immediate execution. 
 The trial and sentence of this man was heard by 
 another Christian, of the name of Lucius, who, not 
 being able to suppress his indignation at the want of 
 all decency and justice in condemning a man who had 
 been convicted of no crime, and to whose charge no 
 imputation could be laid but that of calling himself by 
 the name of Christian, remonstrated with the magis- 
 trate on the folly and iniquity of liis conduct, and 
 ventured to hint that it ill became the character of a 
 philosophic emperor to permit or sanction such pro- 
 ceedings. " I perceive thou also art one of them," was 
 the brief and haughty reply of the judge. On Lucius 
 acknowledging that he was, he, too, was condemned 
 on the spot, and both Ptolemy and his interceding 
 friend encouraging each other to stand fast, and quit 
 themselves like men, were led to execution, expressing 
 with their latest breath their thankfulness that they 
 were about to be removed from tyrannical and wicked 
 magistrates to the presence and the kingdom of their 
 Father and King in heaven.* 
 
 In the year 177, a violent persecution broke out 
 against the Christians of Lyons, among whom many 
 are famous in the annals of martyrology. Although, 
 as usual, they were the most peaceable, industrious, 
 and virtuous inhabitants of the town, yet nowhere, 
 perhaps, was the odium universally attached to their 
 name greater than in that city, — the animosity against 
 them being so intense, that no Christian durst appear 
 in any house except his own, — in the baths, the mar- 
 kets, or any place of public resort whatsoever. The 
 violence of the fierce and insolent populace was un- 
 happily seconded by the local authorities, who seized 
 the best known, in defiance of every principle of hu- 
 manity and justice, allowed their homes to be plun- 
 dered and their persons to be maltreated, and then, 
 after all these indignities, cast them into prison, on 
 
 ^ Fleury, toI. i. p. 369. 
 
S84f TRIALS. 
 
 tlieir avowing themselves Christians, to await the will 
 of the governor. A young man eminent for his rank, 
 and not less for his unbounded generosity, having vo- 
 lunteered to go to the tribunal in behalf of the brethren, 
 and pledged his well known character that they were 
 totally innocent of the vile and unparalleled crimes 
 imputed to them, was arrested and brought into the 
 same condemnation as those of whom he appeared 
 the advocate. His testimony being contradicted by 
 some slaves, Avho, under the influence of the torture, 
 falsely deponed that they had witnessed the grossest 
 enormities in the houses of tlieir Christian masters, 
 the feelings of the populace were inflamed to madness, 
 — every tie of nature and every bond of relationship 
 was disregarded, — neither age nor sex w^ere spared, 
 and scenes of barbarian excesses ensued that baffle 
 description. In this indiscriminate massacre, multi- 
 tudes perished on the streets and in houses by the 
 hands of private assassins. Among those who were 
 brought to the tribunal, all, with the exception of ten 
 who recanted, exhibited a constancy and composure 
 under the most exquisite tortm'es, that showed they 
 were strongly fortified by that faith which overcometh 
 the world. Among the most memorable was Pothi- 
 nus, the venerable pastor of the place, who, although 
 bending under a load of ninety years, and with a body 
 greatly enfeebled by disease, came forward with a 
 spirit breathing all the vigour and elasticity of youth, 
 to give his testimony to the truth. On his appearance, 
 the governor asked him — " Who is the God of the 
 Christians ? " to which he replied, — " You would 
 know Him if you were really desirous to obtain that 
 knowledge." This answer was received with volleys 
 of blasphemy and rage, and the old man, who expected 
 no better treatment, was rudely dragged back, amid 
 the blows and kicks of the bystanders, to prison, where 
 he died in two days. Sanctus, his deacon, was placed 
 at the bar on the removal of the bishop. As he ap- 
 
BIBLIAS. 385 
 
 peared young and resolute, the torture was resorted 
 to to break his fortitude. But he sustained the ap- 
 plication of repeated cruelties with such indomitable 
 firmness, that all the arts of his tormentors could 
 wring nothing from him but the calm and decisive 
 answer that he was a Christian. Red-hot plates of 
 iron were then applied to the tenderest parts of his 
 body, in consequence of which he was reduced to a 
 ghastly spectacle ; and in that state of anguish and 
 debility he was removed to a dark and loathsome cell, 
 to be brought out again a few days after, if alive, to 
 undergo a repetition of the ordeal. On his second 
 appearance, the same method of torture was practised 
 on him as before, but it being found that the burning 
 plates had the effect of reducing his body, which was 
 dreadfully swollen, to its natural shape, and restoring 
 to him the use of his limbs, he was removed to make 
 way for others. All their efforts having proved ineffec- 
 tual in leading to any discovery of the alleged crimes 
 of the Christians, the magistrates altered their mode 
 of procedure, and, instead of examining any more of 
 the office-bearers of the Church, applied themselves 
 to those, on the weakness of whose age and sex they 
 hoped to make some impression. Biblias, one of those 
 who had at first recanted through fear, was selected 
 as the most fit, from her weak and timorous character, 
 to give the required revelations. She was forthwith 
 put on the torture with a view to her being brought 
 to acknowledge that the Christians were in the habit 
 of eating their children. At first she swooned away, 
 but on recovering denied, in the most firm and peremp- 
 tory manner, the horrid crime, expressed her sorrow 
 for her former weakness, avowed her attachment to 
 Christ, and was numbered with the martyrs. After 
 this, the populace, fickle, but still unsated with Chris- 
 tian blood, loudly demanded that the Christians in 
 prison should be brought out and exposed to the wild 
 beasts in the amphitheatre. Orders being given to 
 
386 TRIALS. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 provide that favourite spectacle, Sanctus, accompanied 
 by three others, was laid on the sand to await the 
 unkennelling of their savage antagonists. That poor 
 but not unhappy Christian, as if he had not got enough 
 of the torture, was, along with his companions, placed 
 on a heated iron chair, as a final attempt to extort some 
 confession from him. But his uniform answer being 
 as before, that he was a Christian, their mangled bodies 
 w^ere thrown to the beasts, and in a few moments 
 nothing remained of them but the bones. Blandina, 
 their female companion, was fastened to a stake in the 
 midst of the M'ild beasts, a situation the most appal- 
 ling to the weak nerves of a woman. But supporting 
 her mind by prayer, and a steady view of the precious 
 jjromises of the Gospel, she manifested the most 
 serene composure. None of the beasts, although run- 
 ning loose, caring to touch her, she was reconducted 
 to her prison, and reserved for a future exhibition. 
 Attains was next introduced, the last, but not the 
 least eminent among the Christians, nor the least ob- 
 noxious to the heathen populace of Lyons. He bore 
 upon his breast a board with this inscription. — " This 
 is Attains the Christian ;" — and would have immedi- 
 ately shared the fate of his companions, had it not been 
 discovered that, being a Roman citizen, he could not 
 be condemned without the express permission of the 
 emperor. In a few days the imperial sanction was 
 obtained, and Attains, along with another who had 
 distinguished himself by his efforts to encourage his 
 brethren to constancy and perseverance, was brought 
 out again to the amphitheatre, where the rage of the 
 persecutors, not trusting to the uncertain humour of 
 the ^vild beasts, ran them through with the sword. 
 Last of all, a young man, of the name of Ponticus, 
 not exceeding fifteen years of age, who, with refined 
 cruelty, had every day been led out to witness the 
 execution of his aged friends, and been asked, vnth 
 that appalling spectacle before him, if he would sacri- 
 
FRUCTUOSUS. 387 
 
 fice, but in vain, was made to go through the whole 
 circle of tortures, and at last, along with Blandina, 
 was thrown to the beasts. The latter had the distinc- 
 tion, after undergoing the ordeal of the iron chair, of 
 being enclosed in a net, and thrown at the feet of a 
 furious bull. The sword at length put a period to her 
 sufferings, — the bystanders exclaiming that never could 
 a Avoman have exhibited more astonishing fortitude 
 than Blandina.* 
 
 Fructuosus, bishop of Tarracona in Spain, was ap- 
 prehended, together with his two deacons, on 15th 
 January 250. It happened on the Lord's day, and 
 while he was in his bed-chamber early in the morning, 
 a loud knocking Avas heard at the gate, Avhich, it Avas 
 soon ascertained, proceeded from a party of soldiers 
 bearing the emperor's commission. On receiving the 
 startling intelligence, he arose, Avent doAA-n to them in 
 his slippers, and Avas informed that he was their pri- 
 soner. The bishop submissively ansAvered, that he 
 Avould be at their service if they Avould only alloAv 
 him sufficient time to put on his shoes and dress him- 
 self. His request Avas granted ; and after his plain 
 toilet AA^as made, he and his deacons Avere conveyed 
 to prison ; during his Avhole stay in Avhich, the pious 
 minister continued to pray, Avithout ceasing, for himself 
 and his brethren, that they might be strengthened to 
 Avitness a good confession. After lying six days in con- 
 finement, they AA'ere brought out to a public audience 
 of the governor, AA'ho, having interrogated them in the 
 usual manner, and found all his efforts unavailing to 
 induce them to acknowledge and Avorship the gods, 
 condemned them to be burned alive. As the prisoners 
 Avere being removed to the amphitheatre, the vast 
 crowd of spectators Avere deeply affected at the con- 
 dition of Fructuosus, aaIiosc amiable character and 
 boundless benevolence had secured him the universal 
 esteem of the heathen as Avell as the Christian inhabi- 
 
 * Hailes" Christian Antiq. 
 
388 TRIALS. 
 
 tants of the town. Several ran up to Mm with refresh- 
 ments and cordials, and every one appeared more 
 anxious than another to bestow their attentions on the 
 venerable man. On his arrival at the amphitheatre, 
 which was destined to be the scene of his last suiFer- 
 ings, his reader approached him with tears in his eyes, 
 and begged to be allowed the honour of untying his 
 sandals, a token of respect which was generally paid 
 to persons of rank and character. But the bishop, 
 smiling with joy, intimated his wish to perform him- 
 self that servile office, as well as every other prepara- 
 tory to his execution. He then prayed for his flock, 
 and for the Church universal, and, turning round to 
 his brethren, comforted them with the prospect of soon 
 receiving, in the good providence of God, another to 
 watch over their souls. When the cords that bound 
 his hands were burnt, and he was consequently at 
 greater liberty, he fell upon his knees, and continued 
 in an attitude of prayer till the flames sufibcated him. 
 Thus did Fructuosus and his two deacons enter into 
 the joy of their Lord, — -bearing a resemblance to the 
 three children in the fiery furnace. * 
 
 The story of Perpetua and Felicitas, who were lovely 
 in their lives, and in their deaths were not divided, 
 possesses an interest second to none in the primitive 
 age. The martyrdom of these two young v»'omen took 
 place at Carthage in the year 202. The former was a 
 ■widow of two and twenty, of respectable rank, great 
 accomplishments, and at that time the nurse of an 
 infant child. In common with all her family, except 
 her father, she had embraced the Christian faith, and 
 was in the course of her preparation for baptism, 
 when information was lodged against her of being a 
 disciple of the forbidden religion. Her father no 
 sooner heard of it, than, feeling the natural anguish of 
 a parent at the danger which threatened his daughter, 
 and still more, dreading the indelible ignominy which 
 
 * Hailes' Christian Antiq., toI. ii. 
 
PERPETUA. 389 
 
 her dying in sucli a cause would entail upon Lis house, 
 he employed entreaties and commands to prevail tv ith 
 her to recant, or, at least, to shake her resolution to 
 encounter the publicity of the tribunals. Her filial 
 affection, naturally ardent and refined, and heightened 
 by the influence of Christian principle, was severely 
 tried by the affliction into which she had been the 
 occasion of plunging her venerable relative. Deeply 
 as she was affected, her Christian fortitude stood the 
 shock, and her father, finding all his remonstrances 
 ineffectual, desisted. His absence gave her relief, 
 and, without delay, she embraced the opportunity of 
 obtaining baptism. Not many days after she had 
 received that seal of the covenant, she was apprehended 
 and cast into a dungeon, where her distress was almost 
 insupportable, from the darkness and heat of the place 
 occasioned by the number of prisoners, and above 
 all, by anxiety about her child, from which she had 
 been torn. Through the influence and money of two 
 deacons, who brought, as was then customary, the 
 communion to the prisoners, she and her companions 
 were removed to a more airy and comfortable part of 
 the prison, where she enjoyed the unspeakable satisfac- 
 tion of suckling her child, and, from that circumstance, 
 felt, to use her own language, as happy in prison as 
 if she had been in a palace. A report being widely 
 circulated that the Christian prisoners were to be 
 brought to trial, her father, in an agony of grief, once 
 more sought her presence. Being admitted into her 
 cell, he conjured her, by the affection she cherished 
 for him, by the gratitude she owed him for all his 
 kindness, by the respect she felt for his authority, by 
 the interest she had in her infant son, to have com- 
 passion on her famil}-, especially on her child, who, 
 he said, could not survive her, and on his own gray 
 hairs, which would be brought down with sorrow and 
 shame to the grave. At one time he caressed her, and 
 threw himself at her feet in a transport of the liveliest 
 
300 TRIALS. ^ 
 
 affection, then he upbraided her Avith a haughty and 
 stubborn disposition ; and at another time, reproached 
 her with causing the ruin of her house, and provoking 
 upon herself an ignominious fate, on account of which 
 none of her family could ever after raise their head in 
 society. The passionate excitement of her father threw 
 Perpetua into a terrible state of agitation. Protesting 
 her love and her reverence for him, and her compas- 
 sionate sympathy with his lacerated feelings, she, at 
 the same time, gave a mild but firm refusal to all his 
 entreaties to abjure the Gospel, — told him she was 
 grieved to think that he alone, of all her family, did 
 not rejoice at the prospect of her being counted wor- 
 thy to suffer for the name of Christ ; and that, while 
 nothing on earth would have delighted her more than 
 to please and obey him, she could not do so in a matter 
 where compliance with his wishes would oblige her to 
 displease and disobey God. The next day she was 
 summoned, while dining in company with her fellow- 
 prisoners, to the tribunal to be examined in presence 
 of an immense concourse, w^ho had assembled to wit- 
 ness the trial. On its coming to her turn, she was 
 about, in the usual manner, to confess that she was a 
 Christian, when an extraordinary bustle and confusion 
 took place in the quarter occupied by the spectators ; 
 and on looking round, she was startled at perceiving 
 her aged father forcing his way through the crowd 
 with her little infant in his arms, to make, in that 
 most affecting attitude, his last desperate attempt to 
 avert what he deemed the irremediable degradation of 
 his name. To the earnest supplications of the old 
 man the governor condescended to add the weight of 
 his counsel, that she should remember her father and 
 her child, and allow herself to sacrifice. She con- 
 tented herself with the brief reply, that she had lived, 
 and was resolved to die, a Christian. Her father was 
 now ordered to withdraw, and, as he continued to 
 linger to the interruption of the proceedings of the 
 
FELICITAS. 291 
 
 court, lie was saluted with a blow fi-om the rod of an 
 impatient lictor, which, says the affecting narrative of 
 Perpetua, penetrated her inmost soul. Persisting in 
 her confession, she was remanded to prison to await 
 the execution of her sentence, which condemned her 
 to be thrown to wild beasts. The gloom and solitude 
 of her cell were a real relief after the agitating events 
 of the day, and she consoled herself with the hope of 
 once more enjoying the company of her child, ere she 
 should be for ever incapable of taking an interest in 
 that or any other earthly object. Her father, however, 
 refused to part with it, and she bore the cruel disap- 
 pointment with greater fortitude than she herself had 
 been prepared to anticipate. Nor was she left entirely 
 destitute of earthly comforts, for, through the favour 
 of the jailor, whose sympathies she had won, her rela- 
 tives and friends were allowed to visit her ; and even 
 her father, notwithstanding his deep resentment, pre- 
 vailed upon himself to solicit a final interview. She 
 would have gladly spared herself the painful renewal 
 of his entreaties, but it was not in her nature to deny 
 a father's request, and he was consequently admitted. 
 Frantic with grief, he tore his beard, fell on the floor, 
 resorted to every variety of language and gesture to 
 move her. But her heart was firmly fixed on the hope 
 of Christ, for whom she had left father, and mother, 
 and all that interested her on earth, and the violent 
 excesses of her father's conduct only moved her pity 
 without moving her mind from its settled purpose. 
 
 The story of Felicitas, who was a slave, is scarcely 
 less affecting than that of Perpetua. At the time of 
 her imprisonment she was eight months advanced in 
 a state of pregnancy, and the exciting scenes connected 
 with her apprehension, together with her extreme 
 anxiety that she might not be separated from her 
 brethren, but be honoured to seal her testimony along 
 mth them, instead of being executed, as she would 
 have been, with thieves and murderers, brought on 
 
392 TRIALS. 
 
 the pains of premature confinement. Within three 
 days of the approaching spectacle, at which the Chris- 
 tians were to suffer, she gave birth to a daughter ; 
 and during that trying season, when, in addition to 
 the sorrows she felt in common with her companions, 
 she had sorrows peculiar to herself, she exhibited the 
 most amiable and affecting traits of a Christian spirit. 
 To the jailor and his assistants, who tauntingly asked 
 how she hoped to abide the torture of being exposed 
 to the violence of wild beasts, when she was so much 
 overcome with the pains of childbirth, she magnani- 
 mously replied, that, in the latter case, she had no 
 support but her own feeble nature, whereas, when she 
 confronted the monsters of the amphitheatre, she would 
 enjoy the divine aids of the Saviour, for whose name 
 she suffered. Her infant daughter was, with fervent 
 prayer, commended to the care of her sister, and thus 
 freed from every source of w^orldly anxiety, Felicitas 
 joined the poor but happy society of her fellow-pri- 
 soners, now increased by the presence of several male 
 members of the Carthaginian church. With hearts 
 so congenial as theirs, this little band of confessors 
 frequently joined together in devotional exercises, 
 which, through the forbearance of the turnkey, they 
 were permitted to do in company ; and on the day 
 immediately before their execution they celebrated a 
 love-feast, at which they were joined by those relatives 
 and Christian friends who enjoyed the liberty of visit- 
 ing them. Many of their Pagan fellow-citizens also, 
 who had been acquainted with them, were present as 
 spectators of the solemn and affecting scene, which, 
 together with the exhortations that accompanied it, 
 was blessed for the conversion of not a few. On the 
 strangers taking leave, one of the brethren desired 
 them to observe the countenances of the Christian 
 prisoners, that they might be the better able to distin- 
 guish them on the following day, and notice the calm 
 tranquillity and animating hope with which those 
 
PERPETUA AND FELICITAS. 393 
 
 whose hearts were given to Christ would meet the last 
 enemy. 
 
 At the hour of exhibiting the shows next day, they 
 were led out, all of them, even Perpetua, who had 
 been greatly exhausted by her efforts to soothe her 
 father, and Felicitas, though still weak in consequence 
 of her recent confinement, walking with a firm and 
 elastic step, as if to a marriage instead of a mortal 
 combat. At the gate of the amphitheatre an imex- 
 pected occurrence still farther called forth all their 
 Christian energy. It had been customary from time 
 immemorial for those who were condemned to wild 
 beasts, to be habited in white dresses, — the men like 
 the priests of Saturn — the women like the priestesses 
 of Ceres ; and, on their arrival at the place of execu- 
 tion, they found persons in attendance to supply them 
 with that Pagan attire. With one voice they revolted 
 from the odious ceremony, complaining vehemently 
 of the cruel injustice of forcing on them usages, for 
 refusing to comply with which they chose to die 
 rather than preserve their lives ; and at length suc- 
 ceeded in extorting from the tribune an immunity 
 from the annoying imposition. They were all then 
 conducted into the amphitheatre singing hymns ; and 
 while some of them called the magistrates and people 
 to remember that they would have to give an account 
 of that day's transactions, others invited them to no- 
 tice that they died in the faith of that Saviour whom, 
 having not seen, they loved, and in whom, though 
 as yet they saw him not, they rejoiced with joy un- 
 speakable and full of glory. 
 
 The beasts were then let loose, and the poor women, 
 as if their high-minded and courageous behaviour had 
 deserved the deadliest revenge of their enemies, were 
 made to stand by, and have their sufferings cruelly 
 increased by witnessing the harrowing spectacle of all 
 their male companions successively mangled by the 
 ravenous jaws of lions, leopards, and bears. Their 
 
394 * TRIALS. 
 
 own time being come at last, tliey were, amid many 
 circumstances of brutal insult and savage ferocity, en- 
 closed in a net and exposed to a wild cow. Tbe in- 
 furiated brute made first for Perpetua, whom it tossed 
 and trampled upon, till she fell helpless on her back. 
 Then rmming against Felicitas, it soon made her a 
 horrid spectacle of gore and wounds. Meanwhile 
 availing herself of the momentary absence of her 
 maddening foe, Perpetua composed her disordered 
 dress and hair, and rising up, and perceiving her com- 
 panion more severely hurt than herself, took her by 
 the hand, and assisted her to her feet. From what- 
 ever cause, whether the beast was wearied, or the 
 spectators were moved with compassion for the dis- 
 tressed women, they were then withdrawn from the 
 combat to another place, where criminals Avere usually 
 despatched with the sword. Giving each other the 
 kiss of peace, they then presented themselves to the 
 arm of the executioner. Felicitas was killed by a 
 single blow ; but Perpetua, falling into the hands of 
 a trembling or unskilful gladiator, w^as repeatedly 
 struck and severely wounded in vain ; and this heroic 
 woman, preserving her Christian fortitude to the last, 
 was observed calmly directing the soldier to the best 
 and most expeditious way of performing his duty, 
 — which, being done, she was numbered with the 
 martyrs. * 
 
 The martyrdom of Cyprian occurred in the year 
 258. This illustrious servant of Christ was advanced 
 in life before he was converted from heathenism ; but 
 that memorable change of mind was in him no less 
 rapid than it was permanent, and, under the effectual 
 teaching of the Spirit, he made wonderful progress 
 in the knowledge and experience of true religion, and 
 gave a noble example of its power in a life of activity 
 and zeal in the cause of his Divine Master, that has 
 never been surpassed. His high character for literary 
 
 * Fleury, vol. ii. p. 26. 
 
CYPRIAN. 395 
 
 and spiritual attainments soon raised him to the dig- 
 nified office of bishop of Carthage ; and such was his 
 ardour and indefatigable devotion as a Christian mi- 
 nister, that he acquired unbounded influence, and was 
 universally looked up to as the chief man among the 
 Christians in that quarter of the world. About the 
 ninth year of his ministry, he was summoned by Pa- 
 ternus, the proconsul of x\frica, to a private conference 
 respecting his willingness to obey a recent edict issued 
 from Rome. But as that edict required all men, of 
 whatever opinion, to conform to the religious rites of 
 tlie Romans, and Cyprian, firmly but respectfully, de- 
 clared it impossible for him, as a Christian, to comply, 
 he was banished to a small sea-port on the northern 
 coast of Africa. Eleven months he passed in this 
 place of exile, continuing unabated, in that remote 
 sphere, his labours in the service of his Master, when, 
 on the accession of a new governor to the province, 
 he was recalled from banisliment. On his return 
 to Carthage he fixed his residence in the neighbour- 
 hood of that city, on a splendid estate, which, after 
 he had sold it for the purposes of charity, had, by a 
 singular dispensation of Providence, reverted to the 
 original owner. In that tranquil retreat he resumed 
 the pastoral charge of his church, which once more 
 became large and flourishinof throujjh the efi^brts of 
 his apostolic zeal. But the persecution of Valerian, 
 which burst like a thundercloud on the capital, was 
 rapidly travelling to discharge a violent storm on the 
 churches of Africa. And, as it was easily foreseen, 
 come when it would, that Cyprian was too prominent 
 a character to escape with impunity, a number of the 
 most influential people in Carthage, heathens as well 
 as Christians, — for his great benevolence had endear- 
 ed him to all classes, — waited upon him, and oflfered 
 him the use of various country places where he might 
 conceal himself till the tempest blew past. But Cy- 
 prian, though he prudently avoided every thing that 
 
396 TRIALS. 
 
 mijvht provoke the rage of persecution against him- 
 self, did not think it was his duty to retire from the 
 sphere which Providence had assigned him. He was, 
 accordingly, summoned to the tribunal; but as the 
 governor was then residing at Utica, for the benefit of 
 that watering-place, and the bishop was most anxious 
 that his death, if it were resolved upon, should take 
 place within the precincts of his pastoral territory, 
 and before the eyes of his beloved people, that they 
 might be edified and strengthened by his last testi- 
 mony to the truth, he did accede, in these circum- 
 stances, to the counsel of his friends, and withdrew 
 into temporary concealment. No sooner, however, 
 had the proconsul returned to Carthage, than this 
 Christian hero, fearing lest his concealment might, 
 to his own prejudice, and to the prejudice of the Gos- 
 pel, be construed into a cowardly flight, came back 
 publicly, and took up his residence, as formerly, in 
 his well known villa, calmly leaving the issue in the 
 hand of his Divine Master. Intellio;ence of his return 
 soon reached the ears of the governor, by whom two 
 officers were despatched to apprehend him. Prepared 
 for such a summons, he readily surrendered, and was 
 conveyed in a chariot to a small sea-port, about six 
 miles from Carthage, whither a fresh attack of indis- 
 position had obliged the proconsul to retire. The 
 trial was fixed to take place the following day, and 
 immense crowds flocked to Sexti, the scene of that 
 memorable transaction, attracted by the deep interest 
 that was universally felt in the fate of a man whose 
 praise was in all the churches. He was lodged for 
 the night in the house of the chief officer of the town, 
 who, though appointed his guard, treated him with the 
 greatest kindness, and even carried his courtesy so far 
 as to allow some of the bishop's most intimate friends 
 the gratification of a parting interview. During the 
 whole night multitudes of men and women, his at- 
 tached people from Carthage, stood in the streets be- 
 
CYPRIAN. 397 
 
 fore the house, full of anxiety to see, or at least to 
 hear, something of their favourite pastor, who gave a 
 beautiful trait of his o^^^l affectionate interest in them 
 by repeated messages of Christian counsel. Fearing, 
 from the prodigious interest excited about the fate of 
 Cyprian, that there might be some popular commotion, 
 the proconsul summoned the attendance of a numer- 
 ous guard, under the protection of -which he next day 
 held the assizes for the examination of this famous 
 Christian. The trial, -which was conducted without 
 the use of torture, was short, and all the usual lead- 
 ing inquiries, made on such occasions, having been 
 answered in such a way as satisfied the judge that 
 Cyprian, who acknowledged himself the leader of the 
 Christians, was irrevocably attached to Christianity, 
 that ofiicer pronounced the sentence, that " this ring- 
 leader of the impious sect" should be beheaded.* The 
 martyr received the judgment not only with submis- 
 sion but with thanks, and the vast multitude of his 
 brethren followed him to the place of execution, vent- 
 ing exclamations of the most passionate grief. A 
 guard of soldiers, marching on each side, led him to a 
 spacious plain, in the neighbourhood of Sexti, full of 
 lofty trees, M'hich multitudes climbed to witness the 
 closing scene. Arrived at the spot, the martyr, having 
 put some pieces of money into the hand of the execu- 
 tioner, to show that he died in peace with him and all 
 mankind, took off his upper garment, and then kneeling 
 down, prayed for a few moments fervently, after which 
 he rose, and, stripping himself of all but his long linen 
 shirt, presented himself to the executioner, who, allow- 
 ing two of his friends to bind his hands, and place 
 some napkins to receive the head with decency, ad- 
 dressed himself to his office, and at one blow laid the 
 
 * One reason why Galerius, who was deeply prejudiced against the 
 Christians, conducted Cyprian's trial with unusual humanity and dispatch 
 might arise from the state of his health, which was so bad that he was 
 scarcely able to pronounce the sentence. He died in a few days after. 
 
 C C 
 
398 TRIALS. 
 
 once active and indomitable Cyprian a lifeless trunk 
 in the dust.* 
 
 A young- child called Cyril, appeared among the 
 martyrs in the same persecution that proved fatal to 
 Cyprian, and by his uncommon fortitude produced a 
 prodigious sensation in Cassarea, where he resided. 
 Having been instmcted by some neighbours in the 
 principles of the Gospel, and, having received the 
 truth in the love of it, he became an eminent example 
 of the inspired statement, that out of the mouth of 
 babes and sucklings the Lord has often perfected 
 his praise. At a time when many of maturer years 
 were found wanting in fortitude to make an open 
 avowal of their faith, this youth boldly declared him- 
 self a Christian, and neither flattery nor blows could 
 shake his constancy, though every art was practised 
 to break his attachment to Christ. He was made the 
 butt of the children of the town, was shunned by his 
 relations, and at length banished from home, and dis- 
 owned by his father, whose unnatural conduct was 
 stimulated by the applause of his Pagan friends. These 
 extraordinary circumstances attracted general atten- 
 tion towards Cyril, who was ere long informed against, 
 and dragged before the governor, with a view, how- 
 ever, more to frighten than to punish him. " My 
 child, I will pardon your faults," said the judge, " your 
 father will take you home again, and you may still 
 enjoy the prospect of inheriting the fortune of your 
 family, if you will only take a kind and prudent ad- 
 vice." Cyril remained unmoved. "- 1 care not for 
 an earthly house or worldly riches; I have a nobler 
 mansion, and treasures that will never fade, in heaven. 
 I don't fear death, which will bring me to that better 
 state." After this bold reply, the judge publicly com- 
 manded him to be bound, as if to be carried to im- 
 mediate execution, but gave secret instructions to his 
 attendants to content themselves with simply terrify- 
 
 * Hailcti' Christian Antiq. 
 
SAPRICIUS AND MCEPHORUS. 399 
 
 ing him by the sight of the apparatus of death. The 
 officers on their return reported that the young Chris- 
 tian never shed a tear, nor betrayed the least symptom 
 of weakness at beholding: the tire with which he was 
 threatened. Whereupon the judge, still hopmg to 
 reclaim him, addressed him once more, " My child, 
 you have seen Avhat will be done to you if you con- 
 tinue with this impious sect. Be no longer foolish, — 
 return to the bosom of your family, and look forward 
 to the fine fortune that is awaiting you." " Your 
 intentions are kind," was the youth's reply ; " but I 
 have no fear of your tortures. I have already told 
 you of the glorious inheritance in heaven, and your 
 sentence of death I shall receive with pleasure, as it 
 will send me to enjoy it." The bystanders were 
 deeply affected by this extraordinary language from a 
 child. But, turning round to them, he said, ** You 
 ought rather to rejoice with me, than make me an 
 object of your compassion. You know not what place 
 of glory and felicity I am going to." Farther attempts 
 at remonstrance would have been fruitless. The doom 
 of the young martyr was sealed ; and his death, which 
 took place upon the spot, was marked by the sam(.' 
 Christian heroism he had displayed all along. 
 
 About the year 200, there were in Antioch two 
 young men, known by the respective names of Sapri- 
 cius and Nicephorus, who, though not related, were, 
 from the long habits of intimacy which their families 
 had maintained with each other, associated by the 
 closest terms of intercourse from their earliest years. 
 The companionship of their schoolboy days ripened, 
 at length, into the friendship of manhood ; both of 
 them were Christians, and although when they grew 
 up they chose different professions in life, — Sapricius 
 entering into the service of the Church, while Nice- 
 phorus followed a lucrative branch of trade, — yet so 
 much were they attached to one another, that all 
 their spare moments were spent in each other s society, 
 
400 TRIALS. 
 
 and thej seemed to realize the heau ideal, the per- 
 fection of pure and real friendship, that of having the 
 same sentiments, the same tastes, the same habits in 
 common. A friendship of such long continuance, and 
 which, moreover, had survived many severe trials, was 
 the admiration of the whole city, and the intimacy of 
 Sapricius and Nicephorus became as proverbial among 
 the people of Antioch in those latter times as any of 
 the romantic attachments which the classical poets 
 have described in an early and fabulous age. But, 
 alas ! friendship, like every thing else in this world, 
 often hangs by a frail and uncertain tenure, and the 
 experience of all ages has proven that 
 
 A word, a look, unkindly given, 
 
 Ah ! hearts that long in love were sealed, 
 
 A word, a look, has rudely riven. 
 
 This, at least, was the case with Sapricius and Nice- 
 phorus. Some slight offence, on the part of the latter, 
 threw the apple of discord between the two friends ; 
 and from secret heart-burning and smothered suspi- 
 cions, the contention grew at length so hot, that they 
 entirely suspended their intercourse, and for years 
 were accustomed to pass each other on the streets. 
 At length, however, the heart of Nicephorus began to 
 relent ; he was ashamed and humbled on account of 
 the sin of such intemperate and unworthy behaviour ; 
 and, either feeling himself to be, or generously con- 
 senting to be thought the original offender, he soli- 
 cited the kind offices of some mutual friends to bring 
 about a reconciliation with Sapricius. Meeting after 
 meeting was held by these warm-hearted and Chris- 
 tian individuals with the view of adjusting the differ- 
 ences between the two friends, and in spite of many 
 discouragements and obstacles, that seemed to rise at 
 every step of their negotiations, they persevered, till 
 at length finding all their efforts fruitless, they gave 
 up the task in despair. Tlie spirit of Christian for- 
 
SAPRICIUS AND NICEPHORUS. 401 
 
 giveness and love had, however, so strongly returned 
 to the bosom of Nicephorus, that he would not rest 
 nor leave a stone unturned till he saw the counte- 
 nance of his friend reconciled ; and with that view 
 he determined on going in person to the house of 
 Sapricius, threw himself at his feet, and begged 
 forgiveness. But no advances could move, no humi- 
 liation relent, the mind of his adversary. Neither 
 the recollection of their former attachment, nor a 
 regard to the honour of his own sacred calling, nor 
 the soft influence of Christian love, could melt his 
 heart of stone ; and, with an assumption of the most 
 stern and intolerable pride, he drove his Christian 
 brother away from his door. 
 
 Matters continued for a long time in this painful 
 state between the two friends ; and no opportunity of 
 renewing the attempts at reconciliation occurred, till 
 the emperor Valerian fulminated the thunders of per- 
 secution against the Christians. Antioch, then and 
 long celebrated as the cradle and stronghold of the 
 Christian name, was the chief scene where the im- 
 perial vengeance alighted ; and among the first, if 
 not the very first in the city that was seized, was Sa- 
 pricius, — his public character and active zeal procur- 
 ing him the honour of being made an example. At 
 the tribunal of the praetor, he maintained so unyield- 
 ing a deportment, and to all interrogatories gave so 
 unhesitatingly the brief and unvarying answer, " I 
 am a Christian," that his trial was a short process ; 
 and his judge looking upon him as " obstinate in a 
 pestilent superstition," ordered him forthwith to be 
 executed at the usual place without the gates. The fatal 
 tidings, borne on the \\'ings of fame, soon reached the 
 ears of Nicephorus, who rushed out to meet the pro- 
 cession ; not, however, from idle curiosity, but from 
 a strong wish to receive from the dying martyr a token 
 of peace ; and the moment the confessor came with- 
 in hearing, he exclaimed, " Martyr of Christ, forgive 
 
402 TRIALS. 
 
 me, if in any thing I have sinned against thee ! '^ 
 Sapricius, turning round, and finding the voice to pro- 
 ceed from Nicephorus, marched on in sullen silence. 
 Not discouraged by the failure of his first attempt, 
 the eager Nicephorus ran forward to the end of an- 
 other street, and made the same imploring request ; 
 while the soldiers pushed him aside, and laughed at 
 him as a fool, who put himself to the trouble of beg- 
 ging forgiveness of a man who, in a few moments^, 
 would be no more. In this strain he continued till 
 the procession reached the place of execution, when, 
 resolved on one last and desperate effort, he pushed 
 forward to the middle of the crowd, and placing 
 himself full in front of the martyr, made an appeal 
 which he hoped would reach his heart. But he 
 spoke not now of their ancient friendship. He be- 
 sought him, by the tears and agonies of the cross, by 
 the blood which was shed for sinners, by the dread 
 tribunal before which he was soon to appear, to ex- 
 tend to him the hand of a brother, and forgive him, 
 even as God, for Christ's sake, had forgiven them. 
 But not even these solemn considerations, addressed 
 to him in such an awful moment, could make the 
 obdurate heart of Sapricius respond " to pity's gentle 
 touch." He remained like the deaf adder ; and this 
 hard impenitent state of mind soon produced its 
 natural effects ; for, as he had resisted the spirit of 
 Christian love, the Spirit of Christian grace aban- 
 doned him. He felt all his native weakness ; and, in 
 a moment, while the executioner was applying the 
 torch to kindle the pile that was to consume him, he 
 exclaimed, " Kill me not ; I am ready to obey the 
 orders of the emperor, and to sacrifice to the gods ! " 
 To the heathen bystanders, this recantation, at the 
 eleventh hour, was probably not at all surprising ; as 
 they looked upon it as naturally resulting from the 
 w eakness of human nature, shrinking from suffering 
 and death. But to Nicephorus it appeared in a far 
 
SAPRICIUS AND NICEPHORUS. 403 
 
 different light. While he had seen, with deep and 
 painful regret, that the heart of the mart3T was 
 strangely inaccessible to the voice of Christian love, 
 he still hoped it might he secretly animated by the 
 faith "that overcomcth the world ; " but by the*^ last 
 melancholy declaration of Sapricius, his charitable 
 hopes were sadly dispelled, and in silent agony he 
 stood amongst the crowd, weeping tears such as angels 
 shed over the awful fall of a minister of Christ, 
 " whose praise was in all the Churches." Recover- 
 ing from his first astonishment, he made a strong 
 effort to gain the ear of this lapsing brother, and in 
 accents which poured forth the very soul of Christian 
 affection, reminded him that whoever denies Christ 
 before men, him shall the Lord deny before his Father 
 and the holy angels, urged him not to give cause to 
 the enemies of truth to triumph and blaspheme, and 
 besought him not to lose that crown of glory which 
 through a long series of trials, he was on the eve of 
 obtaining. But the mind of the apostate was now a 
 stranger to the hope, not less than to the love of 
 Christ ; and the pious layman having made these ear- 
 nest but unavailing efforts, to induce the priest to set 
 an example of fiiith in the Saviour, came forward 
 to the officers, and exclaimed, " I am a Christian ; I 
 believe in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, whom 
 that person has denied. Let me die in his place ! " 
 The officers, on hearing this unexpected announce- 
 ment, were thrown into a new difficulty. Whatever 
 zeal they might feel to rid the world of all who pro- 
 fessed the religion of Jesus, they had no power to 
 execute without the authority of a magistrate, and 
 therefore despatched a messenger to the praetor to 
 inform him that Sapricius had promised to sacrifice 
 to the gods, but that one of the bystanders had vocife- 
 rously announced himself a Christian, and importuned 
 them to lead him to execution. The praetor, on hear- 
 ing this intelligence, gave orders accordingly, and 
 
404 TRIALS. 
 
 Nicepliorus died a firm and triumphant martyr, while 
 his former friend returned to Antioch a degraded and 
 despised apostate. 
 
 Romanus, a deacon of Csesarea, suffered at Antioch 
 in the beginning of Diocletian's persecution, when the 
 imperial vengeance was directed chiefly against the 
 leaders of the Church. Happening to come upon 
 business to that city at a time when the Pagan in- 
 habitants, with the magistrates at their head, were 
 demolishing the Christian Churches, which abounded 
 in great numbers there, his indignation was roused by 
 witnessing the sacrilegious outrage ; and, more espe- 
 cially, when he met with a crowd of men, women, and 
 children, who were lately Christians, on their way to a 
 heathen temple to sacrifice, he could restrain his feel- 
 ings no longer, and loudly upbraided them for their 
 cowardice and perfidy. The boldness of the stranger 
 roused the resentment of their military escort, who, 
 seizing Romanus, dragged him to the tribunal, and 
 were the indirect occasion of exhibiting in Antioch, 
 amidst the lamentably general defection of the resi- 
 dent disciples, one noble example, at least, of the 
 power of faith and the excellence of Christianity. 
 Without demanding any more proof of his guilt than 
 the report of the officers, the governor condemned 
 him to expiate his offence on the funeral pile. This 
 was a sudden turn of affairs, and one which, in the 
 circumstances of Romanus, who was at a distance 
 from his family and home, w^ould have crushed the 
 spirit of a less stedfast Christian, and made him re- 
 pent, and perhaps apologize, for his rash and impru- 
 dent behaviour. But though in a strange city, with- 
 out friends or acquaintances to cheer and support him 
 by their sympathy and conversation, the courage of 
 this high-minded man never forsook him ; and, re- 
 membering that the honour of Christ, as well as the 
 success of His cause, were deeply concerned in his 
 constancy, he continued, during the whole interval 
 
EUPLIUS SEARCH FOR THE SCRIPTURES. 405 
 
 that was allowed him after his doom Avas sealed, to 
 testify to the bystanders the Gospel of the grace of 
 God. An official having stepped forward to tie his 
 hands behind his back, Romanus readily presented 
 himself, and inquired smilingly, " AVhere is the fire 
 that is to consume me ? " Galerius was himself on 
 the spot, and that imperial monster, enraged at the 
 firm and cheerful tone with which the remark was 
 made, ordered his tongue to be cut out. A surgeon, 
 one of the fallen Christians, whose base conduct had 
 called forth the reproaches of the deacon, having been 
 observed skulking among the crowd, had the morti- 
 fying duty imposed on him of performing the cruel 
 operation. And no sooner was it over than Galerius, 
 maddened like a tiger, and resolved on gratifying his 
 vindictive mind with protracting the sufterings of his 
 victim, remanded him, in his mutilated state, to a 
 dark and cold prison, where, as the climax of punish- 
 ment, his legs were unnaturally distended in the 
 stocks, by being put in the fifth hole. In that pain- 
 ful position he continued for several days, and was at 
 length strangled. 
 
 Euplius, a deacon, lived in Sicily, and suffered in 
 the year 304, because he could not be prevailed upon 
 to give up the Scriptures. At that time the heathen 
 magistrates had just made the discovery that the 
 Christians derived all their religious notions from a 
 written book, and conceiving that, could they suc- 
 ceed in extirpating that sacred volume, the cause of 
 Christ would sink much more rapidly and certainly 
 than by taking the lives of his disciples, as it would 
 destroy the means of rearing any succeeding race of 
 Christians, they directed their utmost efforts, in the 
 first instance, to search for the Scriptures, — to find 
 out those who were in possession of that secret treasure, 
 and then, by bribery or threats, to get it into their 
 own hands. Among a multitude of others who were 
 brought to trial on this account, we select the singl e 
 
40 G TRIALS. 
 
 instance of this Sicilian deacon, whose zeal and dili- 
 gence in reading the Scriptures to his neighbours at 
 length drew upon him the vengeanc;^ of Diocletian's 
 emissaries. On the 12th of August, in the city of 
 Catania, where he resided, he was summoned to the 
 presence of the governor, and he immediately obeyed, 
 entering the council-room with his copy of the Scrip- 
 tures in his hand. Being interrogated why he kept 
 those parchments contrary to the will of the emperors, 
 and where he got them ? he replied, " That they had 
 been seized in his house, and that he daily read them, 
 for in them were contained the words of eternal life." 
 Being requested to read a few passages, he opened at 
 random, and read — " Blessed are those who are per- 
 secuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the king- 
 dom of heaven;" and, in another passage, — "Who- 
 soever will come after me, let him take up his cross 
 and follow me." While he was reading, the magis- 
 trate asked him the import of the mystic words. 
 Euplius replied, " They refer to the pure and divine 
 law, which we are commanded to obey." " By whom 
 are you commanded ? " *■' By Jesus Christ, the Son 
 of the living God." These answers affording the 
 strongest proofs of his attachment to the Gospel, were 
 followed by a stern command to deliver up the for- 
 bidden book, under the severest penalties of the rack. 
 A day and a night were allowed Euplius to deliberate 
 whether he would submit to the torture or part with 
 his Bible. But the stedfast Christian resolved rather 
 to die than surrender to the flames a book which con- 
 tained all he held dearest in the world ; and having, 
 on his examination the following day, avowed that 
 determination, he was handed over to the executioners, 
 who received orders, on every successive refusal to 
 give up the Scriptures, to increase the severity of the 
 torment. But the constancy of Euplius was invincible ; 
 amid his protracted sufferings not a murmur escaped, 
 and nothing was heard but the exclamation, which he 
 
MAXIMUS. 407 
 
 continued frequently to repeat — " Clirist, strengthen 
 me, — it is for thy name I am suffering this." At 
 length, the governor, considering him as an irreclaim- 
 able Christian, pronounced his sentence, ordering him 
 to be beheaded for having despised the edicts of the 
 emperors, and blasphemed the gods. The lictors forth- 
 with led him away, with his Bible tied round his 
 neck, — one of them, during the march to the place of 
 execution, crying out every now and then to the 
 crowd, " This is Euplius, the enemy of the gods and 
 the emperors," — and there they struck off the head of 
 the martyr, who, with his dying breath, gave thanks 
 to God that he was counted worthy to suffer for the 
 name of Christ.* 
 
 Maximus was a petty merchant, who, in pursuit of 
 his peaceful occupation, had come from a neighbour- 
 ing village to Ephesus, and busily employed himself 
 during his temporary sojourn in the great city, in 
 purchasing the various articles of merchandize he in- 
 tended to carry back with him to his place of business. 
 The simple transactions of a country shopkeeper could 
 easily have been despatched without introducing the 
 subject of religion, — and Maximus was too prudent a 
 man to provoke discussion upon a subject on which 
 he entertained sentiments entirely at variance with 
 the vast majority of the inhabitants of Ephesus. But 
 the feelings of the people in that city were then highly 
 excited about religious matters. The reputation of 
 their town, as well as the existence of almost every 
 family residing in it, was more or less bound up with 
 the continued glory of "the great goddess Diana;" 
 and, as they clearly saw that the services of idolatry, 
 and the numerous trades that were subservient to it, 
 would soon be at an end unless some effectual means 
 were adopted to prevent conversions to Christianity, 
 they kept a jealous eye on all strangers who entered 
 their city, lest they might have come to sow the seeds 
 
 * Fieury ii. 470. 
 
408 TRIALS. 
 
 of the new doctrine, and practised a great many secret 
 arts to discover their rehgious bias. It was by some 
 base and disingenuous means of that kind, used to 
 betray the feehngs of Maximus, that the religion of 
 that plain and inoifensive countryman was detected. 
 Information was immediately lodged against him by 
 the persons with whom he had been lately engaged in 
 amicable traffic; and, just as he was preparing to 
 leave Ephesus, on his return homewards, he was 
 dragged to the tribunal of the Roman magistrate, and 
 interrogated as to his being guilty of the heinous 
 crime of being a Christian. Dissembling was abhor- 
 rent to the character of the man, and having, there- 
 fore, made a frank admission that he had embraced 
 the religion of Christ, he was suspended on that 
 dreadful engine of torture, the horse, and afterwards, 
 notwithstanding the weakening effects of this instru- 
 ment, by which his whole body was racked, was sub- 
 jected to a variety of other inflictions, from the recital 
 of which humanity revolts. But neither the scourge, 
 nor the iron hooks, nor the fire, could terrify him into 
 a denial of his Lord ; and, at last, the governor pro- 
 nounced the sentence, that Maximus, for refusing to 
 sacrifice to the great goddess Diana, be stoned to 
 death. He was, accordingly, carried by the lictors 
 without the walls of Ephesus, and his sufferings im- 
 mediately terminated by a shower of stones. 
 
 In the year 304, Irenseus, whose great merits raised 
 him at an early age to high reputation and influence 
 in the Church, was apprehended, and subjected to tor- 
 tures of no ordinary severity, hopes being entertained 
 that, if he could be prevailed on to apostatize, the fall 
 of so influential a character would be followed by the 
 return of many of his people to the worship of the 
 temples. To insure a result so eagerly wished for, 
 the governor and his friends in the priesthood, who 
 were the secret instigators of the barbai'ous proceed- 
 ings, resolved to assail Irenteus when his mind would 
 
IRENiEUS. 409 
 
 be weakened by bis bodily sufferings, in a way the 
 most overpoAvering to the sensibilities of nature. Being 
 a man scarcely arrived at the prime of life, — his 
 parents were alive, — he was married and had a family. 
 During a severe pai'oxysm, occasioned by the rack, his 
 father and mother were introduced at one side, and 
 his little children at the other, who, seeing their 
 beloved relative in such an agony of distress, began 
 with entreaties and tears to implore him to take pity, 
 the one, on their gray hairs — the other, on their help- 
 less infancy. Then his most intimate friends and 
 neighbours Avere brought in to press on him the pro- 
 priety of considering the dependent state of his family ; 
 and last of all, his Avife, to Avhom he Avas most ardently 
 attached, made her appearance, almost frantic with 
 grief, and plied him Avith every familiar and conjugal 
 endearment to consent but to tliroAv a little incense on 
 the altar, and then he Avould be restored to the com- 
 forts of his home and the bosom of his family. To 
 these united remonstrances, Irena?us remaining in- 
 flexible, was again throAvn into prison, where he lay 
 for a long time enduring privations scarcely less trying 
 than the torture he had formerly experienced at his 
 trial. At length he Avas brought out for a second 
 examination. Having declared that he Avas still im- 
 movable in his attachment to Christ, the judge, think- 
 ing to touch him in a tender point, reminded him of 
 the ties of nature Avhich should bind him to life. 
 '"'• Have you a father and mother?" asked the judge. 
 " No," AA'as the reply. " HaA'e you a Avife ?" " No." 
 " Have you children ? " " No." " Who, then, Avere 
 those who visited you when last here ? " "I knoAv 
 no one noAv according to the flesh, for our Lord Jesus 
 Christ has said, ' He that loveth father, mother, AA-ife, 
 or children, more than me, is not worthy of me.' " 
 " Sacrifice, at least for the sake of your children." 
 "The same Lord and Saviour Avho saveth me Avill 
 save my children if they knoAV him," was the firm 
 
■ilO TRIALS. 
 
 reply of the mart}T. Concluding it to be fruitless to 
 employ any farther attempts to shake the constancy 
 of a man of such a stamp, the judge pronounced sen- 
 tence that Irena^us should be beheaded. * 
 
 In the same year, Philip, bishop of Heraclia, gave 
 an admirable example of the power of faith. When 
 the persecution burst like a thunder-cloud on Heraclia, 
 he was strongly advised by his friends to withdraw, 
 but deeming it his duty to encourage, by his presence 
 and his counsels, the flock under his charge, at so 
 critical a period, he threw out of sight all considera- 
 tion of his personal safety, and went from day to day 
 among his people, exhorting them to be stedfast and 
 immovable. By order of the emperor, all Christian 
 churches were to be demolished, or, at least, sealed 
 up, and all assemblies for their worship strictly pro- 
 hibited ; and when the officers came and turned Philip 
 and his congregation to the door, the undaunted 
 minister, leaning his back to the wall, for he was 
 bending under a load of eighty years, made an ani- 
 mated address to his brethren, and bade them not be 
 cast down, when they remembered that the God whom 
 they worshipped was not confined to temples made 
 with hands. Being summoned before a magistrate to 
 answer for his conduct in disobeying the imperial 
 edict, he was commanded, on pain of torture, to deliver 
 up the vessels of silver or gold that belonged to his 
 church, and all the copies of Scripture he had in his 
 possession. He replied that, although he had no fears 
 of torture, he would hand over to them the sacred 
 utensils, for God was worshipped not with metal, but 
 with reverence and godly fear ; but that neither bribes 
 nor menaces would induce him to part with the Word 
 of God. A blow on the mouth was the reward of 
 this resolute declaration ; and while he was wiping 
 off, with silent resignation, the stream of blood that 
 issued from the wound, Hermes, one of his deacons, 
 
 * Fleury ii. 
 
MARTYRS OF C.ESAREA. 411 
 
 exclaimed, that it was of no use to burn the Scriptures, 
 for the truth could never be rooted out, and posterity 
 would, for the memory of their fathers, and for the 
 good of their own souls, multiply the divine Word 
 more than ever. Such boldness was not allowed to 
 escape with impunity. Hermes was scourged severely, 
 and ordered, without delay, to go to the place where 
 the sacred vessels were kept, and deliver them to the 
 hands of the officer. That was the sicfnal for a general 
 pillage of the churches. The roofs were dismantled, 
 the furniture broken to pieces, and every copy of the 
 Scriptures they fell in with was committed to the 
 flames. None of these tumultuous outrages, however, 
 could daunt the spirit of Philip, who, along with his 
 excellent deacon, spurned at all proposals to consult 
 their safety by sacrificing. They were then remanded 
 to prison ; and, while they lay in confinement, the reign- 
 ing governor was superseded, and another appointed 
 to his place, of a disposition more inveterately hostile 
 than his predecessor to the religion of Jesus. One of 
 the first measures of his government was, to bring the 
 Christians in prison to punishment ; and, to strike 
 terror into all the rest, he ordered Philip to be dragged 
 by the feet through the city, after which, the body of 
 this steady Christian, soiled with dust, and lacerated 
 by the sharp stones, was thrown into a furnace and 
 consumed. 
 
 In the year 309, twelve persons suffered martyrdom 
 in Caesarea, whose extraordinary faith and constancy 
 during their trial, and at the scene of execution, pro- 
 duced a deep sensation among the people of that place. 
 Without detailing the conduct of the rest, though it 
 was truly admirable, we confine this notice to a few 
 incidents connected with Pamphilus, who was the 
 chief of them, and a presbyter in the Church of that 
 town, — a man who, to the most profound humility, 
 universal benevolence, indefatigable activity in every 
 good work, and extensive knowledge of the Scriptures, 
 
412 TRIALS. 
 
 added the rare attribute of a truly accomplished and 
 philosophic mind, and who altogether, according to the 
 testimony of Eusebius, his friend, was a noble exemplar 
 of every Christian virtue. But neither his eminent 
 learning nor his far-famed benevolence could atone, 
 in that period of violence, for the crime of bemg a 
 Christian ; and, accordingly, he and other eminent 
 Christians from the town and the neighbourhood of 
 Caesarea, were summoned to the tribunal, interrogated 
 in succession as to their adoption of the Christian 
 worship, and, after being subjected to a variety of 
 tortures to make them renounce it, sentenced to be 
 beheaded. The moment the fatal sentence was pro- 
 nounced, Porphyry, a young slave of the household of 
 Pamphilus, and well instructed, as might have been 
 expected in such a Christian family, in the knowledge 
 and belief of the truth, impelled by the strong affection 
 he bore for his master, pressed through the croAvd of 
 spectators that were present at the trial, and implored 
 Firmilian in the most earnest manner that the bodies 
 might be allowed the decencies of burial, — a privilege 
 frequently denied at that time to the Christians. That 
 magistrate, instead of being struck with admiration 
 of this dutiful and affectionate conduct in a slave, 
 flew into a violent rage on accoimt of the intrusion, 
 and, having ordered the condemned Christians to be 
 removed to prison, placed Porphyry, as a prisoner, in 
 the very bar which had just been occupied by his 
 master. The usual question — " Art thou a Christian ? " 
 having been asked, and answered in the affirmative, 
 the slave-confessor was deUvered to the lictors w^ith 
 peremptory instructions to put him to the severest 
 torture, until he should consent to sacrifice. During 
 the whole of that dreadful ordeal Porphyry did not 
 utter a word, nor allow a groan to escape him ; and 
 Firmilian perceiving that the time of the court was 
 occupied to no purpose, in trying to break the invin- 
 cible resolution of this slave, resolved to get quit of 
 
MARTYRS OP C^SAREA. 413 
 
 him,' and condemned him, without delay, to he put to 
 death over a slow fire. Notwithstanding the severe 
 racking to which almost every part of his hody had 
 been subjected, he walked on his own feet to the place 
 where the fire was kindled, retaining unrufiled tran- 
 quillity and even cheerfulness, and after giving many 
 strong demonstrations of the power of his faith, he was 
 choked by the flames, — the last words he Avas heard 
 to utter being, " Jesus, thou Son of God, support me." 
 Seleucus was a witness of the affecting scene ; and as 
 soon as all was over, he hastened to the prison to try, 
 if possible, to obtain an opportunity of refreshing his 
 friend, Pamphilus, with tidings of the triumphant 
 departure of his young slave. He had reached the 
 outer court of the prison, where he found some of the 
 confessors sitting, and was in the act of giving the 
 usual salutation of a kiss to one of them, when the 
 sentinel, turning round, perceived him, and knowing 
 it to be a token of recognition among Christians, ' 
 immediately laid hold of the unguarded visitor, and 
 informed against him as an enemy of the gods. Seleu- 
 cus was personally known to the guard, having formerly 
 been a soldier, where his athletic form, and perfect 
 symmetry, and beauty of person, had been the admira- 
 tion of the whole army ; and he had, moreover, on 
 several occasions, signalized himself by his bold and 
 heroic achievements, so as to have attained some of 
 the highest honours the Romans awarded to success- 
 ful valour. On becoming a Christian, however, he 
 resigned his commission, and from that moment dedi- 
 cated his time and his fortune to charity and doing 
 all manner of good. His withdrawal from the army, 
 which had taken place in a brief interval of tranquil- 
 lity, had, though he escaped bodily pains and penalties, 
 brought him into odium with his former comrades, 
 and, though of an old date, was now brought against 
 him as aggravating his offence in becoming a Christian. 
 The sentence of death was pronounced against him, 
 
 D d 
 
414 TRIALS. 
 
 and he who had hastily run to the prison to apprise 
 Pamphilus of the admirable conduct of his slave, was 
 brought into the presence of the friend he sought in a 
 manner he little expected, as a doomed companion of 
 his martyrdom. * 
 
 In the year 310, Felix, pastor of a small town in 
 Italy, and universally respected and beloved by all, 
 heathens as well as Christians, in his neighbourhood, 
 was apprehended, and cast into prison, on a charge of 
 being a leader in the secret conspiracy the Christians 
 were meditating, with a view to subvert the constitu- 
 tion of the empire. In a dark and unwholesome 
 dungeon he was loaded with chains, and deprived of 
 a chair to sit, or a bed to lie upon, except the bare 
 earth, which, moreover, to increase his discomfort, 
 was strcAved with innumerable small fragments of 
 pottery, sharp as glass, so that he could not get any 
 repose. From this dismal confinement, however, he 
 found means of escape, and fleeing to the mountains, 
 took refuge sometimes in one place, sometimes in 
 another, till he at length arrived at a lonely cottage, 
 where a kind-hearted heathen woman, perceiving him 
 to be one of the persecuted Christians, kept him con- 
 cealed in an out-house. In that sanctuary he had 
 continued for several weeks, when the soldiers that 
 were sent in every direction to scour the country, 
 approached, and while they were in the act of search- 
 ing her house, the prudent housewife found means of 
 apprising Felix of his danger, and directed him to 
 an old dry well in a neighbouring field, which was 
 covered at the top. That being considered a place of 
 greater security than the cottage, he continued there, 
 being daily supplied with bread and other victuals, 
 which the kind owner let down to him in a basket, 
 and with drink from a deposit of rain-w^ater which 
 had collected into a small pool in a hollow of the pit. 
 For several months he inhabited that subterranean 
 
 ^ Hailes" Christian Antiquities. 
 
NOTICES OF MARTYRS. 415 
 
 jibode, where, although banished from the cheerful 
 society of men, lie enjoyed many precious seasons of 
 blissful communion with his God and Saviour ; and, at 
 length, on the restoration of peace to the Church, he 
 returned to the scene of his pastoral labours as a man 
 restored from the dead. * 
 
 From the melancholy abundance of materials in the 
 history of the primitive age, it were an easy task to 
 swell these notices of martyrs, and to adduce many 
 other examples of Christians, in every rank and con- 
 dition of life, — young converts, no less than veteran 
 disciples of threescore and ten, who exhibited a purity 
 of faith, and a constancy in suffering, not inferior to 
 the noble testimony borne by any of those to whom 
 we have assigned the first and brightest place among 
 the cloud of witnesses. Nor, Ave are persuaded, would 
 the reader feel it to be either an uninteresting or un- 
 profitable occupation, to tarry a little longer over the 
 memorials of those ancient believers, who, in times of 
 no common difficulty, and among a people wholly 
 given to idolatry, upheld, at the hazard of all that was 
 dear to them, the honour and worship of the one 
 living and true God. Cold, indeed, and insensible to 
 every feeling of moral excellence, must be his heart 
 who can trace with indifference the actings of men, 
 whose character presents more excellent traits of hu- 
 manity, and whose story carries with it the charm of 
 a deeper interest, than that of any to be found in the 
 whole compass of ancient history. Little must his 
 mind feel of love to the name, or of interest in the 
 cause of the Saviour, whose bosom does not glow with 
 generous sympathy and unbounded admiration for 
 those faithful champions of His cause, who cheerfully 
 took the spoiling of their goods, and were willing to 
 make the costly sacrifice of life itself, rather than 
 swerve from their principles. If heroic fortitude, in- 
 vincible energy, and constancy firm as a rock, call 
 
 * Fleury, ii. 
 
416 TRIALS. 
 
 forth commendation and praise, — never were those 
 qualities displayed in a nobler manner, than by the 
 martyrs of the primitive age, whose faithfulness unto 
 death casts the boasted heroism of a Mutius and a 
 Regulus completely into the shade, and whose de- 
 portment in circumstances the most trying to frail 
 humanity, was as much superior to the constancy of 
 those celebrated Romans, as the cause in which they 
 suffered was higher and holier than patriot ever bled 
 or hero fought for. But to admire is much more easy 
 than to imitate, and the right and only valuable im- 
 provement of these records of the martyrs is not the 
 bestowing upon their memory the tribute of a barren 
 admiration, but to endeavour to catch a kindred spirit, 
 and in the cause, which, in common with them, we 
 have chosen as the cause of truth and righteousness, 
 be prepared, should Providence place us in similar 
 circumstances, to exhibit as stedfast a faith — to bear 
 as noble a testimony. 
 
 Their blood was shed 
 
 In confirmation of the noblest claim — 
 
 Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
 
 To walk with God, to be divinely free. 
 
 To soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
 
 Yet few remember them. They lived unknown, 
 
 Till persecution dragged them into fame, 
 
 And chased them up to heaven. Their ashes flew 
 
 No marble tells us whither ; with their names 
 
 No bard embalms and sanctifies his song ; 
 
 And history, so warm on meaner themes. 
 
 Is cold on this. She execrates, indeed, 
 
 The tyranny that doomed them to the fire, 
 
 But gives the glorious sufferers little praise. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TRIALS CONTINUED. 
 
 SOURCES OP STEDFASTNESS IN MARTYRS — STORY OF A PHRYGIAN APOSTATB 
 — LOVE OF CHRIST — FIRM HOPE OF IMMEDIATE ENTRANCE INTO HEA- 
 VEN—EFFECTS OF THE COURAGE AND CHRISTIAN VIRTUES OF THR 
 MARTYRS UPON MANY BEHOLDERS — INFORMER AGAINST THE APOSTLE 
 JAMES — JUSTIN MARTYR— BESAS, A SOLDIER — GESENIUS, AN ACTOR — 
 TREATMENT OF THOSE WHO FELL — CERTIFICATES OF MARTYRS— CELER- 
 JISUS— CERTIFICATES DISAPPROVED OF — GREAT VALUE ATTACHED TO 
 MARTYRDOM — CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 The well-known saying of Erasmus, that " God had 
 not given him the spirit of martyrdom," expresses more 
 truly than that eminent man perhaps intended or be- 
 lieved the real origin of the fortitude that enabled the 
 martyrs to be faithful unto death. Nature instinc- 
 tively recoils from suffering ; and if, in some cases, by 
 stern resolution or enthusiastic excitement, its com'age 
 and resolution is wound up to an unusual pitch, and 
 a disposition is felt as if capable of braving the last 
 extremities, — the near approach or the actual presence 
 of danger has often betrayed the inherent weakness of 
 humanity, and exhibited humbling proofs, how soon 
 the strongest nerves may be overcome, the firmest 
 purposes be shaken, and those who were heroes at a 
 distance, become cowards when brought to the test. 
 The primitive age of the Church was not without 
 many examples of ill-informed and self-confident 
 Christians, who, when trouble and persecution arose, 
 were offended, and fell away. Quintus, a Phrygian, 
 
418 TRIALS. 
 
 for example, who possessed all the ardent and enthu- 
 siastic feelings characteristic of his countrymen, em- 
 braced the Gospel, and, by the uncommon fervour of 
 his zeal, and his devoted attention to all the outward 
 departments of religion, acquired the reputation of an 
 eminent Christian. During the persecution of Diocle- 
 tian, he took every opportunity of proclaiming him- 
 self a follower of Christ ; and even in the presence of 
 the judge, before whom he was summoned on account 
 of his religion, exhibited an air of courageous defiance 
 that seemed to smile on torture and death. Nay, even 
 during the procession to the amphitheatre, he main- 
 tained the appearance of the same inflexible courage, 
 till, all at once, on coming in sight of the wild beasts, 
 his courage gave way, — he trembled like an aspen 
 leaf, — and he exclaimed, " I am willing to sacrifice." * 
 The failure of this poor Phrygian is just what might 
 have been expected in an individual whose courage 
 was nothing more than a violent effort of enthusiasm 
 and temporary excitement. And, indeed, it must be 
 evident, that men who could voluntarily encounter such 
 painful trials as the primitive martyrs were exposed to, 
 and, for twenty-four or forty- eight hours together re- 
 main under the rack without the least faltering, must 
 have derived their courage from another source, — the 
 inspiration of higher principles than those of their own 
 weak and feeble nature. " We will not," to use the 
 words of a respectable writer, " compare the courage 
 of the martyr to that of the soldier. It is one thing 
 to stand in the ranks of war, where there are many 
 chances of escaping Avithout a wound, and where the 
 mind is so much occupied with the part which the sol- 
 dier has to perform, that it has no leisure for cool or 
 deliberate reflection either about living or dying, and 
 another thing to mark the slow steady march of death, 
 especially when he is appearing in a form the most 
 terrific that the genius of cruelty and injustice can 
 
 * Hailes* Christian Antiquities, vol. i. 
 
LOVE OP CHRIST, 419 
 
 invent. Though the death of the soldier might secure 
 the victory to his country, very few would he inclined 
 to show that they had as much of the patriot and tiie 
 soldier in their disposition as to be willing to make 
 the sacrifice. But when matters came to that issue 
 with the martyrs, that it behoved them either to seal 
 their testimony with their blood, or renounce it, their 
 souls chose strangling and blood rather than life upon 
 dishonourable terms." 
 
 Nor was this heroic resolution confined only to a 
 few who were made of " sterner stuff" — men of strong 
 and unbending characters, who had disciplined their 
 minds to independence of thought, and who scorned 
 to be found capable of abandoning their opinions from 
 the mean and servile dread of bodily pains. In the 
 ranks of the martyrs were found persons of every con- 
 dition, and age, and sex : women of soft and delicate 
 natures, who would have shrunk from public gaze,i — 
 much more from exposure to the indignities they suf- 
 fered ; old men, tottering under the load of age, and 
 boys and girls of tender years, whose imaginations 
 might have been supposed to be dazzled and overcome 
 by the ensigns of office and the majesty of judicial 
 power, — all of whom, when reduced to the painful 
 alternative of parting with tiieir religion or their life, 
 displayed an energy of purpose, an unshaken fortitude, 
 that struck the beholders with amazment. Firmly be- 
 lieving, that in their adherence to the cause of Christ 
 interests of unspeakable importance to their wellbeing 
 were involved, in the loss of which liberty and life 
 would have been purchased at too dear a rate, they 
 hesitated not to throw the die that was to deprive 
 them of those inestimable possessions, and, tearing 
 themselves asunder from every inferior consideration, 
 proclaimed their connection with the cause of Christ, 
 whatever migrht betide. In vain did relatives and 
 friends throw themselves at their feet, and importune 
 them with tears to remember the tender ties that should 
 
420 TRIALS. 
 
 bind them to tlie world ; — in vain did the judges often 
 set before them bright prospects of wealth and honour 
 to bribe them to return to idolatry ; — in vain did 
 tyranny assume its darkest frowns, and menace them 
 with the utmost severities. Proof equally against the 
 melting tears of friends and the fellest rage of their 
 enemies, they continued firm as a rock in their attach- 
 ment to the Gospel, and encountered the fate that 
 awaited them with a constancy seldom equalled, never 
 surpassed, in any other cause. And what was the prin- 
 ciple from which this extraordinar)' fortitude arose ? 
 It was not the vain-glorious desire of gaining the re- 
 ward of human applause, — for many of them met their 
 fate in the solitude of the rack-chamber, and in the 
 darkness of the prison, where there was no eye to wit- 
 ness their sacrifice, or meet them with the gaze of ad- 
 miration. It was not the contagion of sj'^mpathy, — 
 the delirium of some frenzied feeling, which had 
 strangely come over the minds of men, — for some of 
 them were men of calm and contemplative habits, 
 the farthest removed from the intoxication of passing 
 enthusiasm; and multitudes there were, of different 
 ranks, and in difi'erent countries, who had never been 
 in contact with each other, and Avho were influenced 
 by the most opposite habits of feeling and acting. It 
 was nothing but the force of truth, urging them, at all 
 hazards to their temporal concerns, to separate them- 
 selves from the ruinous errors of superstition, and 
 operating on minds in which the love of the Saviour, 
 and the sure and certain hope, through his merits, of 
 an immediate immortality of bliss, had become para- 
 mount to every other affection. It was this alone 
 which enabled them to persevere, where every lower 
 principle would have suffered nature to misgive, and 
 which made the tender stripling, the retiring female, 
 the veteran saint, strong in the midst of weakness, 
 vigorous in spirit while the body was feeble, serene 
 amidst alarms, tranquil in the hour of danger, bold 
 
LOVE OF CHRIST. 421 
 
 and resolute in the prospect of death. What else but 
 this could have made them willing to sever the most 
 endearing ties, — could have led mothers to encourage 
 their children — children their parents — husbands their 
 wives — brothers their sisters — men their dearest friends 
 — to bear every severity rather than depart from the 
 faith and hope of the Gospel ? What else but this 
 made them all stedfast amid the heavings of expiring 
 nature, and deprived the king of terrors of all his for- 
 midable power ? Nay, not only were they stedfast 
 and immovable, but they gave tokens of joy un- 
 speakable, that they were counted worthy to suffer for 
 their Master's name. In their hearts the sense of ob- 
 ligation to Hira Avho had bought them with His blood, 
 and sanctified them by His Spirit, was so strong, that 
 they looked upon themselves as lying under a debt of 
 gratitude which no services nor sufferings of theirs 
 could ever discharge ; and they hailed it as a privi- 
 lege and an honour that they had an opportunity of 
 testifying, in so decided a manner, the value they 
 attached to that love of Christ, from which neither 
 death nor the gi'ave could separate them. With His 
 love shed abroad in their hearts, and anticipating an 
 immediate and everlasting union with Him in heaven, 
 many of them not only endured as seeing God who is 
 invisible, but triumphed gloriously over the infirmities 
 of nature, seemed insensible to pain, and, as it were, 
 transported out of themselves. Sometimes 4hey ani- 
 mated one another with the assurance, that, in a few 
 hours, they who were suflFering together would be 
 glorified together. At other times they gave thanks 
 aloud, that though they were weak themselves through 
 the flesh, they felt that they could bear all things 
 through Christ in them and strengthening them. They 
 received such liberal communications of grace, and so 
 fully was the promise fulfilled to them, that as their 
 day was so their strength should be, that it seemed not 
 thev who suffered, but Christ who suffered in them. His 
 
422 TRIALS. 
 
 word, which dwelt in them richly, became more precious 
 than ever from the divine support and comfort it gave 
 them in the hour of their trial ; so that, though deprived 
 of all assistance from man, they felt the promises 
 they clung to to be spirit and truth, — making, while 
 their afflictions abounded, their consolations much more 
 to abound, and enabling them not only to be patient, 
 but to glory in tribulation, and exult amid the blaze of 
 the faggot and the gloom of the grave, as if they were 
 already treading the confines of heaven, and breathing 
 the air of immortality. 
 
 The manner in Avhich the martyrs met their death 
 often produced effects diametrically opposite to those 
 anticipated by the authors of the persecution. Dur- 
 ing the greater part of the first three centuries, the 
 bigotry and intense hatred of the heathen to the re- 
 ligion of Jesus, thought of no other means of arrest- 
 ing the progress of that obnoxious cause, but extir- 
 pating it by measures of sanguinary ferocity, rarely, 
 if ever, equalled in any other period of history ; and 
 yet every year's experience showed the folly of per- 
 secution, and should have convinced the rulers of the 
 Roman world, that these barbarous proceedings were 
 altogether ineffectual in checkins: the growth of the 
 new faith. The tyrannical edicts that from time to 
 time were fulminated from the courts of Rome and 
 Nicomedia — the fires that were kindled in every part 
 of the world — the strange and unheard-of engines of 
 punishment, which a refined cruelty invented for the 
 disciples of the " pestilent superstition," served only to 
 extend the opinions which they were employed to 
 crush, and to add fuel to the fervid zeal that already 
 burned in the bosoms of the Christians. Animated 
 by the strongest convictions that the cause they had 
 espoused was the cause of God and truth, and that a 
 sincere and stedfast attachment to it would be followed 
 by the enjoyment of eternal life, that people looked 
 upon death with longing desire rather than with fear 
 
EFFECTS OF MARTYRS' COURAGE. 423 
 
 Tind tren[i])Hng, and displayed, amid sufferings which 
 humanity shudders to rehite, a degree of patient and 
 resolute endurance, which, awakening the sentiments 
 of pity and admiration in the breasts of the beholders, 
 were the means of bringing a vast accession to the 
 ranks of the believers. Men felt it impossible to wit- 
 ness the executions which from day to day took place 
 — attended with circumstances of more than ordinary 
 severity, without reflecting on the character and views 
 of those whom no terrors could daunt, nor misfortunes 
 subdue ; and while they saw great numbers of their 
 fellow-creatures tortured and maltreated, far worse 
 than the most atrocious criminals who trampled on 
 the laws of society, for no other offence than their 
 adoption of a certain form of ^worship, and attachment 
 to some peculiar opinions on the subject of religion, 
 they were naturally led to contrast the temper of the 
 heathen oppressors with that of the believers. The 
 pity they felt for the situation of the poor sufferers, 
 was soon mingled with suspicion and abhorrence of 
 the religion which required and sanctioned such means 
 of defence ; and when they beheld the silent but grave 
 and dignified demeanour of the confessors of Christ, 
 walking to the fire that was to consume, or the wild 
 beasts that were to devour them, — not with the abject 
 and prostrate spirit of felons, convinced that they were 
 receiving the just reward of their deeds, but with the 
 calm serenity and firm step of men, conscious that 
 truth and justice were on tlieir side — when they wit- 
 nessed the meekness and patience that shone with 
 ineffable grace on the countenances of the dying men, 
 and heard them, in sounds so novel and strange to 
 pagan ears, praying for the judge who condemned 
 them, for the emperor who authorised the persecution, 
 for the executioner who was to be the agent of their 
 punishment, and the infuriated rabble who were driv- 
 ing them with execrations from the world ; and be- 
 seeching the Almighty that their own death might not 
 
424 TRIALS. 
 
 be remembered among the sins laid to their enemies' 
 charge, many of the bystanders were moved to tears, 
 and were led, in spite of themselves, to conclude that 
 it was not for slight and trivial reasons that multitudes 
 of reasonable creatures w^ould forego all the advantages 
 of life, and brave even the infliction of torture and 
 death ; that such marvellous constancy and fortitude 
 could be produced only by the inspiration of truth, 
 and be allied Avith characters of pure and high-toned 
 virture. Thus it was, that the Christian blood that 
 was shed was like seed sown in the earth. It sprang 
 from the ground again, producing a more vigorous 
 and luxuriant crop than before ; and the severities 
 exercised against the believers were in reality the 
 means of confirming old disciples more strongly in the 
 faith. 
 
 Many of the primitive Christians traced their con- 
 version to attendance on such spectacles, and the ad- 
 miration produced on their minds by the behaviour 
 of the martyrs at their trial and execution. The sol- 
 dier who guarded James, the first of the apostles that 
 suffered martyrdom in his Master's cause, — having 
 fallen a victim to the unprincipled ambition of Herod 
 Agrippa, was so struck with the heavenly character 
 and conversation of the prisoner he was appointed 
 to watch, that through one of those sudden and ex- 
 traordinary manifestations of the Spirit, that frequently 
 occurred in primitive times, he became a partaker at 
 the same time both of the joys and sufferings of the 
 ambassador of Christ. Having found joy and peace 
 in believing, he made a public declaration of his 
 change of mind, and though he well knew the dread- 
 ful fate that awaited him, none of those things could 
 move him aAva}^ fi*om the faith and hope of the 
 Gospel. Clinging to the arms of the man, whom he 
 had lately dragged with rude violence to the prison, 
 but whom he now embraced and revered as his father, 
 who had begotten him in the bonds of the Gospel, he 
 
BESAS. 425 
 
 walked in company with the apostle to the place of 
 execution, and tiiere, having given each other a solemn 
 kiss of peace, they were beheaded together. * It was 
 by the same means — the strong and irrefragable argu- 
 ment home to the truth and excellence of the Christian 
 faith by the behaviour of the martyrs — that Justin 
 Martyr tells us he was led to abandon the principles of 
 the Platonic philosophy for the doctrines of the Gospel. 
 When he saw the Christians, whom he had always 
 heard vilified as the worst and most flagitious of men, 
 go to die with a bold and cheerful aspect, and declare 
 their readiness to endure every species of barbarity 
 that the malice of their enemies could inflict, rather 
 than part with their religion, he reflected within him- 
 self that it was impossible such persons could be the 
 slaves of sensuality and vice, which common fame 
 represented them to be, as it was the interest of all 
 the votaries of sinful pleasure to avoid death, and 
 adopt every means of saving their lives ; and thus he 
 was brought to embrace the Gospel as the truth, and 
 the grand means of forming the heart of man to the 
 highest moral excellence, t Among the soldiers who 
 guarded the martyrs in Egypt was one Besas, who 
 signalized himself by checking the insolence of the 
 multitude, and procuring respect for the suff'ering Chris- 
 tians. The fury of the mob was instantly directed 
 aofainst him, and it turned out that this amiable soldier 
 had, by intercourse with the Christians, been led first 
 to think favourably of, and then cordially to profess 
 his faith in, the Gospel. On being taken before the 
 governor, he declared that he valued his interest in 
 Christ infinitely more than he did his life ; and being, 
 in consequence, doomed to share the fate of the pri- 
 soners he had been appointed to guard, he died, 
 glorying to the last, in the firm hope of salvation. J 
 Gesenius was a celebrated comic actor in the days of 
 
 * Eusebius, chap. i. p. 9. t Apol., chap. i. p. 50. 
 
 t Hailes' Christian Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 16. 
 
426 TRIALS. 
 
 Diocletian, who gained great applause to himself by 
 his exquisite mimicry both of the observances and the 
 sufferings of Christians. At a time when some grand 
 festivities were celebrating at the palace, this favourite 
 player w^as commanded by his master to exhibit his 
 celebrated performances in the theatre for the gratifi- 
 cation of the royal visitors. In the hope of rendering 
 his im'tution more perfect, the player, whose nearest 
 relations were Christians, addressed himself to the task 
 of obtaining, through them, a more accurate knowledge 
 of the forms of worship observed by the believers, and 
 had also attended the trials and execution of several 
 confessors, wdiose demeanour he intended to make the 
 butt of his ridicule at the approaching exhibition 
 before the court. The result, however, of his obser- 
 vations was a total change of mind ; and he who had 
 been watching the Christians for no other purpose 
 than to make them the objects of his satire and buf- 
 foonery, became sincerely attached to the faith he was 
 premeditating to abuse. When the appointed day 
 arrived, and the illustrious party had repaired to the 
 theatre in expectation of a rich entertainment, Gesenius 
 was seen in white linen — the garment which all newly 
 baptized persons wore for a week, — and, as the actor 
 was somewhat reluctant to show^ himself, some soldiers 
 of the imperial guard, thinking he Avas hiding himself 
 in sport, hurried him in their arms to the stage, where 
 the actor, finding it impossible to escape, addressed 
 his royal audience in the following terms : — " Oh ! 
 emperor, and people of this city, listen to what I am 
 going to say. I never used to hear the Christians 
 spoken of without horror, and I always had particular 
 pleasure in making sport of all w^ho continued to pro- 
 fess their connection with the name of Christ. I even 
 despised ray relations and kinsmen on account of their 
 embracing Christianity, and carried my contempt of 
 that religion so far as to seek information about its 
 jnysteries, for the sole purpose of diverting myself and 
 
GESENIUS. 427 
 
 the puhlic at the expense of its friends. But Avhen, 
 in acting a baptism, tlie water touched me, and I was 
 about, after the manner of Christians, to reply — ' I 
 believe,' methought 1 saw a hand reaching down from 
 heaven, and some shining angels above me, who read 
 in a book all the sins I ever committed, blotted them 
 out in the same water, and then showed me the book 
 whiter than snow ! Oh ! mighty emperor, and 3'ou 
 people who have been accustomed to ridicule these 
 Christian mysteries, be persuaded with me henceforth 
 to believe that Jesus Christ is the true God, — that he 
 is light and truth, — and that through him you may 
 obtain pardon." The emperor, on hearing this speech, 
 fell into a violent rage, and, after ordering Gesenius 
 to be severely scourged upon the spot, committed him 
 to one of his attendants to force him to sacrifice. He 
 was put upon the rack, and treated with the most 
 brutal cruelty ; but he remained stedfast in the faith, 
 and not a word did he allow to escape from his lips, 
 except now and then an exclamation of bitter regret 
 that he had so often dishonoured Christ and his faith- 
 ful servants, and had been so late in believing. * — 
 Many other instances there were of conversions made 
 in circumstances similar to these. Frequently the 
 gaolers, the guards, the executioners, and felons who 
 were imprisoned in the same dungeons, were converted, 
 and became partners in the sufferings of their believing 
 fellow-prisoners. Frequently, while the soldiers and 
 magistrates were heaping cruelties on the poor Chris- 
 tians, the populace, though they did not care about 
 their religion, were so wrought upon by the savage 
 conduct of the persecutors, and the meek and amiable 
 temper of the martyrs, that they interfered for their 
 rescue, and chased the magistrate from his tribunal 
 with a shower of stones. + Still more frequently 
 were many confessors themselves, who were sincerely 
 attached to Christ, but whose timid and irresolute 
 
 * Fleury, ii. 475. t Fleury Mceurs des Chretiens, p, 265. 
 
428 TRIALS. 
 
 minds had faltered at sioht of the engines of torture, 
 reanimated by Avitnessing the faitli and constancy of 
 some eminent champions of the truth. '" Through the 
 patience of those who endured, the immeasurable 
 compassion of Christ became manifest ; for, by the 
 living were the dead raised to life, — the ntartyrs 
 obtained favour for those who were not martyrs, — 
 encouraged by the unbending and joyful behaviour of 
 their brethren, many of the apostates returned, were 
 revived, and taught to confess the truth in Christ ; 
 and having their spirits braced again, they repaired to 
 the judgment-seat to be once more questioned by the 
 governor." * 
 
 All, however, whose courage failed them in the hours 
 of trial, were not thus happily revived. Many were 
 prevailed upon to sacrifice, or to put forth their hand 
 to some other act of idolatry, which implied an abju- 
 ration of Christ ; and the Churches, after the restora- 
 tion of tranquillity, found no cases of discipline more 
 numerous, or requiring more delicate treatment, than 
 those of the unhappy individuals, who, after a tem- 
 porary apostasy, sought readmission into the bosom of 
 the Church. Most of the leading Christians in those 
 times having themselves been sufferers, knew, from 
 their own sad experience, the terrible ordeal through 
 which the believers were obliged to pass ; and it gene- 
 rally happened, that those who had displayed the 
 greatest fortitude and constancy themselves, were tlie 
 foremost advocates for a charitable and indulgent 
 consideration of the fall of their weaker brethren. 
 Through their influence, the mild spirit of the Gospel 
 triumphed over the tone of severity which some pas- 
 tors were disposed to assume, and the Christians of 
 the primitive age adopted a general uniformity of 
 discipline, by which lapsed penitents might, afrer a 
 prescribed period, be restored to communion with the 
 body of the faithful. This term of probation varied 
 
 * Martyrs of Lyons, p. 52. 
 
TRADITORES. 420 
 
 according as the circumstances of the fall were more 
 or less ajjsfravatine:. Those who had sacrificed invo- 
 luntarily, by having their hands forcibly plun^jed into 
 a censer of incense, or their mouths filled with pieces 
 of consecrated cake, while they lay insensi]:)le, or were 
 too weak to resist throush the violence of their suffer- 
 ings, were restored at once on their application. Tliose 
 who apostatized the moment they were lirought into 
 the presence of the judge, or in sight of the torture, — 
 those who, after making a bold and magnanimous 
 avowal of their faith, afterwards gave way during 
 their confinement in prison ; and, — those who, after 
 consenting to sacrifice under the paralyzing effects of 
 their terror, afterwards recovered their fortitude, and, 
 proclaiming themselves Christians, underwent the tor- 
 ture, had their property confiscated, or were banished, 
 were admitted after a longer or shorter period, as the 
 rules of the Church, in different places, prescribed for 
 their several offences. A severer discipline was pre- 
 pared for those who, to effect their escape, had prac- 
 tised any deception on the magistrates, by purchasing 
 an indulgence, or by substituting their slaves to ]>e 
 tortured instead of themselves. If private members 
 of the Church, they were subjected to the strictest 
 surveillance, ere they regained their place in the 
 society of the faithful ; if pastors or deacons, they 
 might be admitted to communion, though thev were 
 for ever incapable of holding any sacred office. But 
 no class of these delinc|uents excited greater abhor- 
 rence, or were treated with more rigour, than the 
 Traditores^ — those who had surrendered their copies 
 of the Scripture to be burned. Some apology might 
 be admitted for the weakness of humanity in those 
 who shrunk from bodily sufferings, when threatened 
 with the loss of their eyes, the dislocation of their 
 limbs, or the painful distention of their whole frames. 
 Some leniency might be shown to those who were 
 induced, in trying circumstances, to take into their 
 
 E e 
 
430 ' TRIALS. 
 
 hands a few grains of incense, to bow to an image, ot 
 to eat a piece of salted cake that had been offered on 
 the altar. But to part with the Word, which had 
 been written by the finger of apostles and prophets, 
 dictated by the Holy Spirit, and which alone contained 
 the records of eternal truth, was considered a crime 
 of the most heinous nature, which no apprehension of 
 danger could palliate, and the commission of which 
 required to be visited with the heaviest censures of 
 the Church. Accordingly, there was no part of their 
 conduct the lapsed were more anxious to conceal, as 
 those convicted of this guilt were excluded from the 
 Church for 10, 2(\ sometimes 30 years; many were 
 not received till their dying hour; and on several, 
 who regained not only the private communion of the 
 Church, but the enjoyment of their sacred office, sus- 
 picion of having perpetrated this act of sacrilege fell, 
 which, breaking out from time to time, was the 
 unhappy occasion of marring their usefulness, and 
 creating internal discord in the Church. 
 
 This course of probation was too long and tedious 
 for the patience of many to submit to, and various 
 expedients Avere adopted, by procuring testimonies to 
 their deep contrition and genuine piety, to hasten 
 their return to the bosom of the Church. The high 
 character of the confessors of Christ, pointed them 
 out as the most promising channel through Avhich to 
 apply for such an indulgence ; and as the extraordi- 
 nary veneration in which they were held rendered it 
 extremely improbable that any request of theirs would 
 be denied by their Christian brethren who bore rule 
 in the Church, it became a common practice for the 
 lapsed to get petitions for their restoration written 
 out and signed by some well-known martyr, who was 
 lying in prison or labouring in the mines. The first 
 trace of this practice occurs about the year 260, and 
 it originated in the anxiety of an African confessor 
 about the restoration of his tv/o sisters, who had un- 
 
CELERINUS — CERTIFICATES DISAPPROVED OF. 431 
 
 happily* given way and consented to sacrifice. Celeri- 
 iius — that was the name of the confessor — was thrown 
 into a state of inconsolable grief at the apostasy of the 
 young women. Day and night he wept — abstained 
 from food, shunned all society, and was rapidly pining 
 away, when the thought occurred to him to solicit the 
 friendly offices of Lucian, who was confined in the 
 dungeons of Carthage, and daily expecting martyrdom. 
 Having found means of conveying a message to the 
 venerable martyr, he apprized him of the unhappy fall 
 of his sisters, gave him ample proofs of their sincere 
 repentance and Christian benevolence, and besought 
 him, as an honoured confessor of Christ, to use his 
 influence in procuring a remission of the sentence, 
 which doomed the fallen women to exclusion for years 
 from the privileges of the Church. The kindliness or 
 the vanity of Lucian induced him to grant the request, 
 and Celerinus, furnished with a recommendatory letter 
 from the imprisoned martyr, carried it to the rulers of 
 the Church, who, seeing the handwriting and the 
 signature of a man so revered as Lucian was, accepted 
 the testimonial, and, without any farther inquiry, pro- 
 mised Celerinus the satisfaction of his sisters' imme- 
 diate readmission to the Church. * An expedient, so 
 convenient at a time when the numljer of apostates 
 was very immerous, and the strict rules of primitive 
 purity required the lapse of several years before such 
 persons could be restored, soon met with extensive 
 imitation. And we find the excellent and uncom- 
 promising Cyprian complaining, in strong language, 
 of the great abuses that, in his neighbourhood, sprang 
 from it. The Church was deluged with recommenda^ 
 tions too readil}'^ and indiscreetly furnished by con- 
 fessors. Some of the lapsed there were, indeed, who, 
 penetrated with sorrow for their apostasy, refused to 
 take advantage of the testimonials offered them through 
 the too indulgent friendship of the martyrs. But the 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 20. 
 
432 TRIALS. 
 
 far greater number, feeling their situation ^s exiles 
 from the communion of the Church both painful and 
 degrading, eagerly caught at this short and easy method 
 of making their peace ; and among the multitudes 
 who, in those days, had suffered in some way for the 
 sake of Christ, it was not difficult to find some whose 
 vanity or easy temper could be wrought upon to re- 
 commend persons whose anxiety was directed to so 
 praiseworthy an object as a renewed connection with 
 the Church. All prudent and reflecting men lamented 
 the growth of this evil. But few had fortitude enough 
 to speak out against it, — much less to resist recom- 
 mendatory letters, to which, as coming from the hand 
 of confessors and martyrs, more than ordinary respect 
 was paid ; so that the practice was suffered to continue, 
 and became the source of grievous corruptions, espe- 
 cially as in time a general form of certificates was 
 given in which a blank space was left for the indivi- 
 dual who procured it to fill up with whatever name 
 he pleased. * 
 
 The introduction of this custom alone — were other 
 evidence wanting — is sufficient to prove the truth of 
 a statement made in an earlier part of this volume, 
 respecting the high esteem in which the martyrs were 
 universally held. While they lay in prison they were 
 frequently consulted on matters of difficulty, and their 
 decision was implicitly bowed to as settling the con- 
 troversy. If liberated, they were supported at the 
 common expense. At death their portraits were hung 
 up in private houses, and, in process of time, they were 
 introduced to adorn the walls of churches also, al- 
 though nothing more was intended than, by familiar- 
 izing the eye with the features of the venerable dead, 
 to keep alive in the minds of the beholders the 
 memory of their deeds. Their acts, and the memor- 
 abilia of their closing scene, treasured up by tradi- 
 tion, or bought from the public archives, furnished a 
 
 * Cyprian, Epist. 21. 
 
MARTYRS HELD IN HIGH ESTIMATION. 433 
 
 never-failing source of interesting and instructive con- 
 versation in the family circles of the believers. This 
 excessive regard for the character and memory of the 
 martyrs was one of the greatest faults of the primitive 
 Christians. It was undoubtedly natural for persons 
 circumstanced as they were, who had themselves ex- 
 perienced some of the trials of persecuting times, and 
 witnessed the holy boldness with which those sted- 
 fast champions of the truth met the horrors of the 
 gloomy pyre, to embalm their names in never-dying 
 remembrance. Nor would any evil, but much good, 
 have resulted from this tribute of warm and affec- 
 tionate admiration, as we know from the history of 
 our own Church at periods of similar distraction, the 
 intense interest that attaches to the name of martyrs, 
 and how closely allied a regard for the memory of 
 these conscientious men is with a sense of the value 
 of Christian ordinances, and a disposition to uphold 
 the cause of pure and imdefiled religion. But among 
 the primitive Christians, many of whom had not en- 
 tirelyshaken off the shackles of their heathen education, 
 this amiable feeling of respect and admiration for 
 departed worthies too nearly bordered on the higher 
 sentiment of veneration. They were regarded as supe- 
 rior to the ordinary level of humanity, as endowed 
 with an extraordinary effusion of the Spirit, and their 
 sayings as possessed of an authority second only to 
 that of Scripture. Where such extravagant honours 
 were bestowed upon fallen and sinful, however ex- 
 cellent men, the transition was easy to idolatry; and, 
 in the generous but unrestrained admiration of the 
 primitive age, we trace the germs of that blind and 
 superstitious reverence which, in after periods of 
 ignorance and credulity, was directed towards the 
 martyrs. 
 
 Another fault akin to the foregoing, and naturally 
 arising out of it, was the immense value set upon 
 martyrdom by some of the early Christians. The 
 
434 TRIALS. 
 
 discipline of the primitive Church requiring a long 
 preparation for baptism, many who had left idolatry 
 were for years in a course of training for that initia- 
 tory ordinance. And none were considered perfect, 
 or true Christians, till they had been washed in the 
 waters of baptism. But if a person in that prepara- 
 tory state had faith and fortitude enough to undergo 
 martyrdom, that bloody baptism was considered as 
 not only superseding, but of greater efficacy than the 
 common and less costly mode, — as a peculiarly accept- 
 able and meritorious act in the eye of the Saviour, 
 and as a sure and direct passport to heaven. It was, 
 perhaps, this peculiar style of thought and feeling, 
 which originally created that strong desire for martyr- 
 dom, which other causes contributed to foster and 
 perpetuate. A doom, however appalling, on which 
 such inestimable blessings were supposed to hang, was 
 courted rather than dreaded or shunned. Men were 
 sometimes known to rush into the tribunals of the 
 Roman governors, proclaiming themselves Christians ; 
 and although the best and most prudent leaders of the 
 Church discouraofed and condemned such a reckless 
 exposure of themselves to the rage of persecution, 
 no counsels, however wise, no authority, however 
 commanding and venerable, was sufficient entirely to 
 extinguish in the breasts of warm and enthusiastic 
 Christians that longing to depart, — so long as they 
 were possessed with the notion, that a few hours of 
 suffering would secure the enjoyment of immediate and 
 never-ending bliss. The prevalence of this unnatural 
 and wild ambition is traceable in the intemperate lan- 
 guage which some Christians employed at their trial, 
 to provoke the judges to condemn them ; and it is 
 abundantly evident from the testimony of Eusebius, 
 in whose passages there frequently occur such phrases 
 as this, " by one short hour's endurance, they delivered 
 themselves from eternal misery," But these views 
 were far from being generally approved of, and al- 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 435 
 
 though it suits the purpose of such writers as Gibbon, 
 to impute the errors of a few to the charge of the whole 
 body of Christians, yet, unless we believe there were 
 no sound principles in the primitive age, and there is 
 no confidence to be reposed in the testimony of the 
 contemporary historians of the Church, the great majo- 
 rity of believers acted on the counsel of their Divine 
 Master, and while they kept themselves in readiness 
 to die for their faith, if called in providence to do so, 
 they took every prudent precaution to save themselves 
 from so violent a fate. 
 
 The trials to which the primitive Christians were 
 exposed, were not more than had been predicted, and 
 from the holy and spiritual nature of the Christian 
 faith, what might have been expected. The introduc- 
 tion and establishment of a religion Avhich waged un- 
 compromising warfare against the corrupt institutions 
 of idolatry, as well as the ungodliness of the human 
 heart, could not have been accomplished without these 
 trials as the portion of those who should be faithful 
 to its cause in the midst of a crooked and perverse 
 generation. Too long had Satan held the undisputed 
 sway among the nations, to be v/illing to surrender his 
 injBuence without a severe struggle, and hence we find 
 that when that dominion was visibly waning, and 
 Christianity making: ranid strides towards the as- 
 cendant, his disappointment and rage burst forth into 
 the madness of despair, as he saw the sceptre gradually 
 departing from his hands. The priests of idolatry, 
 who were his ministers, and the princes of the Avorld, 
 who were the slaves of their superstition, set every 
 engine at work to root out the seed sown by the 
 preaching of the Word. Finding that they could not 
 uproot it, they suspended at intervals their weapons 
 of war, in the hope that Christianity would be content 
 with the footing she had obtained, but when they saw 
 her still making alarming advances, and bidding fair 
 
436 TRIALS. 
 
 for reaching a universal triumph, they again put on 
 their armour, and took the field against the Christians. 
 In this alternate course of jealous quiet, and active 
 hostility, they continued for almost 300 years, when 
 seeing this rival religion was carrying all before her, 
 and that their own destruction was at hand, they re- 
 solved on a last desperate effort — it was a struggle for 
 life ; and hence, at no former period was the sv^^ord. 
 of persecution so drunk with the blood of God's ser- 
 vants as in the reign of Diocletian and his imperial 
 colleagues. By those severe and protracted trials, 
 however, which were the vials of wrath poured out 
 on the Christians by the despairing friends of idolatry. 
 Divine Providence accomplished the most important 
 ends. The cause of Christ was proved, by incontest- 
 ible evidence, to be the cause of God and truth. Amid 
 the shades of obscurity and the sword of persecution, 
 it was ushered into birth, and without power to patro- 
 nise, learning to defend, or riches to dignify them in the 
 eyes of the world, — nay, in spite of the most powerful 
 obstacles, his disciples grew in number. The more 
 they were oppressed, the more they multiplied, — thus 
 proving that the progress of the Gospel was accom- 
 plished, not by human might nor power, but by the 
 Spirit of the Lord. 
 
 Besides, these sufferings, which to so great an extent 
 mark the history of the early believers, contributed 
 under Providence to the fuller and more striking de- 
 velopement of their rare virtues, — ^just as the stars 
 shine brightest, and are seen to the greatest advantage, 
 in the darkest night. Cast in the mould of the Gos- 
 pel, the character of our first ancestors in the faith, 
 would, in any circumstances, have presented the same 
 elements of Christian excellence, — under whatever 
 form of government, and in whatever state of society 
 they had lived, they would have been the same pious 
 and holy, the same meek and benevolent, the same 
 patient and orderly people, that the sanctifying influ- 
 
CONCLUDING REMARKS. 43^ 
 
 ence of Christianity made them. But in the ordinary 
 peaceful course of events, and amid the vast wilderness 
 of living men in the empire of Home, their humble 
 and unobtrusive habits Avould have prevented their 
 excellencies from ever being known ; and it is to the 
 painful and harrowing circumstances in which they 
 made profession of the faith, that the world is indebted 
 at once for the discovery of their singular virtues, and 
 for the full-blown maturity in Avliich these were dis- 
 played. Had not calumny assailed their character, 
 and excited universal odium agai^ist them, through 
 the imputation of enormous crimes, we should never 
 have possessed those admirable apologies, which draw 
 so enchanting a picture of their pure and amiable so- 
 ciety. Had not snares of every kind, and in the most 
 insidious form, been laid for their fall, we should have 
 been left in ignorance of their admirable stedfastness 
 in religion and virtue. Had not the demon of perse- 
 cution waved the sword and lighted the fires of ex- 
 termination around them, we should have wanted the 
 splendid examples which their dying sc^es exhibited 
 of meekness that was never ruffled, of patience that 
 never heaved a groan, of forgiveness to men, and a 
 hope in God that was strong in death. Nay, it is not 
 the knowledge only of their extraordinary excellencies 
 which we owe to the persecution that dragged them 
 into fame — that same persecution unfolded the blos- 
 soms of their Christian virtue to a degree of beautiful 
 and splendid maturity, which, in calmer and less try- 
 ing circumstances, they would not have attained. Con- 
 stantly in dread of danger from without, they were 
 led to exercise an ever-vigilant care over the treasure 
 of their faith within. Objects of ridicule and contempt, 
 whenever they appeared, they were driven to the ha- 
 bitual practice of meekness. Persecuted, now by the 
 tongue of defamation — now by the strong arm of 
 violence, occasions were seldom wanting to call them 
 to the duty of forgiving injuries. The wants of their 
 
 Ff 
 
438 TRIALS. 
 
 poorer brethren — tlie wretchedness of their heathen 
 countrymen, both in their temporal and spiritual con- 
 dition, presented objects for the exercise of their ever- 
 active benevolence. The difficulties from without, 
 amid which all these dispositions and virtues were 
 brought into play, gave a higher and more solemn 
 tone to that devotion which was so distinguishing a 
 feature of their character — and thus we can trace 
 throughout the tv^hole of their singular history, a mu- 
 tual and most interesting connection between the 
 Manners and the Trials of the primitive Christians. 
 
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CHRISTIAN EVIDENCES. 
 
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8 CFIRISTIAN EVlDKiNCES. 
 
 A SHORT AND EASY METHOD WITH THE 
 
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 JOHN JOHNSTONE, HUNTER SQUARE, EDINBURGH. 
 
ON AFi- LIUTIUJN . y 
 
 AN INQUIRY INTO THE BOOKS OF THE 
 
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 JOHN JOHNSTONS. HINTER SQrARE. EDlNBrROH. 
 
10 
 
 ON AFFLICTlOxN. 
 
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12 PRACTICAL RELIGION. 
 
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LORD 8 SUPPER. 13 
 
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