ORIGINS OF CHRISTIANITY.
VOL.. II.
THE APOSTLES.

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THE

APOSTLES

EENEST KENAN,
MEMBRE DE L^tNSTITUT.
AUTHOR OF "the LIFE OF JESUS," ETC., ETC.

TRANSLATED FROM THE ORI&INAL FRENCH.

^

NEW YORK:
Carleton,, Publisher, 4.13 Broadway.
PARIS: -MICHEL LEVY FBERES.
M DCCC LXVI.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S66, by
GEO. W. CAELETON,
In tho Clerk's Office of the District Court uf the United States for the
Southem District of New York.

The New York Printing Company
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TABLE OF CONTENTS.

PASS
INTR OD UCTION.— Critical Examination of Original Docu
ments  7
CHAPTER I.— Formation of Beliefs relative to the Resv/r-
recUon of Jesus. — The: Apparitions at Jerusalem . . 54
CHAPTER II. — Departure of the Disciples from Jerusalem.
— Second Galilean Ufe of Jesus  71
QHAPIER III. — Return of the Apostles to Jer-usalem. — End
of the period of Apparitions  83
CHAPTER IY. — Descent of the Holy Spirit ; Ecstatical and
Prophetic Phenomena  91
CHAPTER Y. — First Church at Jer-usalem; its Character
Oenobitical ......... 104
CHAPTER YI. — The Conversion of the HeUenistic Jews and
Proselytes  122
CHAPTER YII. — The Chv/rch considered as an Association
of poor People. — Institution of the Diaconate. — Deacon
esses and fVido-ws ....... 130
CHAPTER Yin. — First Persecution. — Death of Stephen. —
Destruction of the first Church of Jerusalem . . 144
CHAPTER IX. — First Missions. — Philip the Deacm . .154

VI CONTENTS. FA.GX
CHAPTER X.— Conversion of St. PaiH . . . .162
CHAPTER XL— Peace and Interior Developments of tJie
Ch-wrch of Judea  ^'^
CHAPTER XII.— Establishment qf ihe Church of Antioch . 196
CHAPTER XIII.— The idea of an Apostolate to the Gentiles.
— Saint Ba/rnahas ....... 206
CHAPTER XIV.— Persecution of Herod Agrippa I. . . . 214
CHAPTER XY. — Movements Parallel to, and Imitative of
t. — Simon of Gitto  226

CHAPTER XVL-'— General progress of ihe Christian Missions 236
CHAPTER XYIL— State of the "World in the First Century 252
CHAPTER XVIII.— Religious Legislation of the period . 278
CHAPTER XIX— The Future of Missions . . . .290
NOTES  305

THE APOSTLES.

INTEODUCTIOK
CKmOAI, EXAMINATION OF OEIGINAL DOCUMENTS.
The first book of our History of the Origins of Chris
tianity brought us down to the death and burial of Jesus ;
and we must now resume the subject at the point where
we left it — that is to say, on Saturday, the fourth of
April, in the year 33. The work will be for some time
yet a sort of continuation of the life of Jesus. Next to
the glad months, during which thegreat Founder laid the
bases of a new order of things for humanity, these few
succeeding years were the raost decisive in the history
of the world. It is still Jesus, who, by the holy fire
kindled in the hearts of a few friends from the spark
He himself has placed there, creates institutions of the
highest originality, stirs and transforms souls, and im
presses On everything His divine seal. It shall be ours
to show how, under this influence, always active and
victorious over death, the doctrines of faith in the re
surrection, in the influence of the Holj'' Spirit, in the
gift of tongues, and in the power of the Church, be
came firmly established. We shall describe the organi
zation of the Church of Jerusalem, jts first trials, and its

8 THE APOSTLES.
first triumphs, and the earliest missions to which it gave
birth. We shall follow Christianity in its rapid progress
through Syria as far as Antioch, where it established
a second capital in some respects more important than
Jerusalem, and destined, even, to supplant the latter.
In this new centre, where converted heathen were in
the majority, we shall see Christianity separate itself
definitively from Judaism, and receive a name of its
own ; and we shall note, above all, the birth of the
grand idea of distant missions destined to carry the
name of Jesus throughout the. Gentile world. We
shall pause at the solemn moment when Paul, Barna
bas, and Mark depart to carry this great design into
execution ; and then, interrupting for a while our nar
rative, we shall cast a glance at the world which these
brave missionaries sought to convert. We shall en
deavor to give an account of the intellectual, political.
moral, religious, and social condition of the Roman
Empire at about the year 45, the probable date of the
departure of St. Paul on his first mission.
Such is the scope of this second book which we have
called The Apostles, because it is devoted to that period
of common action, during which the little family cre
ated by Jesus acted in concert and was grouped mo
rally around a single point — Jerusalem. Our next and
third book, will lead us out of this company, and will
have for almost its only character the man who, more
than any other, represents conquering and spreading
Christianity— St. Paul. Although from a certain epoch
he may be called an apostle, Paul, nevertheless, was not
so by the same title as the Twelve ;^ he was, in fact a
laborer of the second hour, and almost an intruder.

THB APOSTLES. 9
Historical documents, as they have reached us, are apt
to cause some misapprehension on this point. As we
know infinitely more of the affairs of Paul than of
those of the Twelve, as we possess his authentic writ
ings and original memoirs relating with minute preci
sion certain epochs of his life, we are apt to award him
an importance of the first order, almost superior even
to that of Jesup.'i;, This is an error. Paul was a very
great man, and played a considerable part in the foun
dation of Christianity ; but he should neither be com
pared to Jesus, nor even to his immediate disciples. Paul
never saw Jesus, nor did he ever taste the ambrosia of
the Galilean's preaching ; a^ the most mediocre man
who had partaken of that heavenly manna, was through
that very privilege, superior to him who had, as it
were, only an after-taste. Nothing is more false than
an opinion which has become fashionable in these days,
and which would almost imply that Paul was the true
founder of Christianity. Jesus alone is its true
founder ; and the next places to Him should be reserved
for His grand yet obscure companions — for affection
ate and faithful friends who believed in Him in the
face of death. Paul was to the first century a kind of
isolated phenomenon.' Instead of an organized school,
he left vigorous adversaries, who, after his death,
wished to banish him from the Church, to place him on
the same footing with Simon the Magician,^ and would
even have denied him the credit of that which we con
sider his special work — the conversion of the Gentiles.'
The church of Corinth, which he alone had founded,*
professed to owe its origin to him~and to St. Peter.' In
the second century Papias and St. Justin do not nien-
1*

10 THE APOSTLES.
tion his name ; and it was not till later, when oral tra
dition was lost and Scripture took its place, that Paul
assumed a leading position in Christian theology.
Paul, indeed, had a theology. Peter and Mary Mag
dalene had none. Paul has left elaborate works, and
none of the writings of the other apostles can dispute
the palm with his in either importance or authenticity.
At the first glance, the documents relating to the period
embraced in this volume would seem scanty and quite
insufficient. Direct testimony is confined to the earlier
chapters of the Acts of the Apostles, the historical
value of which is open to grave objections. The
light thro^^n upon this obscure interval by the last
chapters of the Gospels, and above all by the Epistles
of St. Paul, however, somewhat dissipates the shadows.
An ancient writer serves to make us acquainted not
only with the exact epoch when he wrote, but with the
epoch which preceded it. Every written work suggests,
in fact, retrospective inductions upon the state of
society whence it proceeded. Though written for the
most part between the years 53 and 62, the Epistles of
St. Paul are replete with information about the first
years of Christianity. While speaking here of great
events without precise dates, the essential point is to
show the conditions in which they originated ; and
while on this subject, I should state, once for all, that
the running dates given at the head of each page (of
the French edition) are only approximative. The
chronology of those early years has but very few fixed
points. Ifevertheless, thanks to the care which the
compiler of the Acts has taken not to interrupt the
series of facts ; thanks to the Epistle to the Galatians

THE APOSTLES. 11
where there are several numerical indications of marked
value ; and thanks to Josephus, who furnishes us with
the dates of events in profane history allied to undoubted
facts concerning the apostles — it is possible to arrange a
probable chronology where the chances of error are
confined within tolerably restricted limits.
I will repeat here at the beginning of this book what
I said at the beginning of my Life of Jesus. Hypothesis
is indispensable in histories of this character, where
only the general effect is certain, and where almost
all the details are more or less dubious, in consequence
of the legendary nature of the authorities. There is
no hypothesis at all to be made in regard to epochs of
which we know nothing. To attempt to reproduce a
group of antique statuary which has certainly-existed,
but of which we have not even a fragment, and about
which we possegs no written information, is a purely
arbitrary work ; but what can be more legitimate than
to try to re-arrange the frieze of the Parthenon from
the portions which remain, and with the aid of ancient
descriptions of drawings made in the seventeenth cen
tury, and all other possible means of information — in
a word, to become inspired with the style of these
inimitable sculptures, and to endeavor to grasp their
soul and spirit ? It need not be said after the effort
that the work of the ancient sculptor has been repro
duced ; but that everything possible has been done to
approach it. Such a procedure is much more legiti
mate in history, because the doubtful forms of language
permit that which the marble does not. Nothing pre
vents us from proposing to the reader a choice between
different suppositions. The conscience of the writer

12 THE APOSTLES.
need not trouble him as long as he presents as certain,
that which is certain ; as probable, that which is proba
ble ; as possible, that which is possible. When history
and legend glide together, it is only the general effect
whicii need be followed out. Our third book, for which
we shall have documents absolutely historical, and in
which it will be our function to depict characters
clearly defined, and to relate facts distinctly set forth,
will thus present a firmer narrative. It will be seen,
however, that the physiognomy of that period is, upon
the whole, not known with certainty. Accomplished
facts speak louder than biographical details. We know
very little about the incomparable artists to whom we
are indebted for the masterpieces of Greek art ; yet
these masterpieces really tell us more of the individu
ality of their authors, and of the public that appreciated ~
them, than could the most circumstantial narrations or
the most authentic text.
The documents to which we must look for informa
tion concerning what was done immediately after the
death of Jesus, are the last chapters of the Gospels,
containing the account of the apparitions of the risen
Christ.® I do not attend to repeat here my estimate of
the value of these documents given in the "Life of
Jesus." We have, happily, in this question, features
wanting too often in that work : I would refer to a pro
minent passage in St. Paul (I. Corinthians xv. 5-8),
which establishes — first, the reality of the apparitions or
appearances of Christ; second, the duration of these
apparitions, differing from the accounts in the synop
tic Gospels ; third, the variety of localities where these
apparitions were manifest, contrary to Mark and to Luke.

THE APOSTLES. ' 13
The study of the fundamental text, in addition to many
other reasons, confirms us in the views we have already
expressed upon the reciprocal relation^ of the synopti
cal Gospels and the fourth Gospel. As regards the
resurrection and subsequent appearances of Christ, the
fourth Gospel maintains the same superiority which
it shows throughout its entire history of Jesus. It is
to this Gospel that we must look for a connected and
logical narrative, suggfestive of that which remains
hidden behind it. I would touch upon the most diffi
cult of questions relating to the origins of Christianity,
in asking, " What is the historical value of the fourth
Gospel? " My views on this point in my "Life of Jesus"'
have elicited the strongest objections brought against
the work by intelligent critics. Almost all the scholars
who apply the rational method to the history of theo
logy reject the fourth Gospel as in all respects apocry
phal ; but though I have reflected much of late on this
problem, I cannot modify to any material degree my
previous opinion, though, out of respect to the general
sentiment on this point, I deem it my duty to set forth
in detail the- reasons for my persistence; and I will
devote to these reasons an Appendix to a revised and
corrected edition of the " Life of Jesus" which is
shortly to appear.
For the history we are about to dwell upon, the
Acts of the Apostles form' the most important documen
tary reference ; and an explanation of the character of
this work, of its historical value, and of interpretations
I put upon it, is here desirable..
There can be no doubt that the Acts of the Apostles
were written by the author of the third Gospel, and

14 " THE APOSTLES.
form a continuation of that work. It is not necessary
to stop and prove this proposition, which has never
been seriously contested.'' The preface which is at the
beginning of each work, the dedication of both to
Theophilus, and the perfect resemblance of style and
ideas, are abundant demonstration of the fact.
A second proposition, not as certain, but which may
nevertheless be regarded very probable, is that the
author of the Acts was a disciple of Paul, who accom
panied him in most of his travels. At first glance
this proposition appears indubitable. In several
places, after the 10th verse of Chapter xvi., the
author of the Acts uses in the narrative the pronoun
" we," thus indicating that the writer thenceforth
formed one of the apostolic band which surrounded
Paul. This would seem to demonstrate the matter ;
and the only issue which appears to lessen the force of
the argument is the theory that the passages where
the pronoun " we " is found, had been copied by the
last compiler of the Acts in a previous manuscript, in
the original memoirs of a disciple of Paul, and that
this compiler or editor had inadvertently forgotten to
substitute for " we " the name of the narrator. This
explanation is, however, hardly admissible. Such an
error might naturally exist in a more careless compila
tion ; but the third Gospel and the Acts form a work
well prepared, composed with reflection, and even
with art ; written by the same hand, and on a connect
ed plan.8 The two books, taken together, are perfectly
the same in style, present the same favorite phrases
and exhibit the same manner of quoting Scripture. So
gross a fault in the editing would be inexplicable • and

THE APOSTLES. 15
we are forced to the conclusion that the person who
wrote the close of the work, wrote the beginning of it,
and that the narrator of the whole is the same who used
the word " we " in the passages alluded to.
This will- appear still more probable on remember
ing under what circumstances the narrator thus refers
to his association with Paul. The use of the word
" we " begins when Paul for the first time enters
Macedonia {xvi. 10), and closes when he leaves Phi
lippi. It occurs again when Paul, visiting Macedonia
for the last time, goes once more to Philippi (xx. 5, 6) ;
and thenceforward to the close, the narrator remains
with Paul. On further remarking that the chapters
where the narrator accompanies the apostle are parti
cular and precise in their character, there will be little
reason to doubt that the former was a Macedonian, or
more probably, perhaps, a Philippian,' who came to
Paul at Troas during the second mission, remained at
Philippi after the departure of the apostle, and on
his last visit to that city (the third mission) joined him,
to leave him no more during his wanderings. Is it
probable that a compiler, writing at a distance, would
allow himself to be influenced to such a degree by the
reminiscences of another ? These reminiscences would
not harmonize with the general style. The nari-ator
who used the " we " would have his own style and
method,^" ahd would be more like Paul than the gene
ral editor of the work ; but the fact is, that the whole
work is perfectly homogeneous.
It seems surprising that any one should 'be found
to contradict a proposition apparently so evident. But
the critics of the New Testament bring forward plenty

16 THE APOSTLES.
of commentaries which are found on examination to
be full of uncertainty. As regards style, ideas, and
doctrines, the Acts are by no means what one would
expect of a disciple of Paul. In no respect do they
resemble the Epistles, nor can there be found therein a
trace of those bold doctrines which showed the origi
nality of the Apostle to the Gentiles. The tempera
ment of St. Paul is that of a rigid Protestant ; the
author of the Acts produces the effect of a good and
docile Catholic, with a tendency to optimism ; call
ing each priest " a holy priest," each bishop " a great
bishop," and ready to adopt every fiction rather than to
acknowledge that these holy priests and these great
bishops quarrelled, and sometimes most bitterly, among
themselves. Though always professing the greatest
admiration for Paul, the author of the Acts avoids giv
ing him the title of apostle,^' and is disposed to award
to Peter the credit of the initiative in the conversion
of the Gentiles. One would deem him a disciple of
Peter rather than of Paul. We shall soon show that in
two or three instances his principles of conciliation led
him to grave errors in his biography of Paul. He
was inexact,^^ and above all, guilty of omissions truly
strange in one who was a disciple of that apostle.^' He
does not at all allude to the Epistles ; he omits impor
tant facts." Even in the portions relating to the
period when he was supposed to be a constant com
panion of Paul's, he is dry, ill-informed, and far from
entertaining ;^° and on the whole, the vagueness of cer
tain portons of the narrative would imply that the
writer had no direct or even indirect relation with the'
apostles, but wrote about the year 100 or 120.

THE APOSTLES. 17
Is it necessary to pause here to discuss these objec
tions ? I think not ; and I persist in believing that the
last writer or editor of the Acts is really that disciple
of Paul who used the " we " in the concluding chap
ters. All the discrepancies, however inseparable they
may appear, should be at least held in suspense, if not
wholly done away with, by the argument resulting
from the use of this word " we." It may be added,
that in attributing the Acts to a companion of Paul,
two peculiarities are explained — the disproportion of
the parts of the work, three-fifths of which are devoted
to Paul ; and the disproportion which may be observed
in the biographj"- of Paul, whose first mission is very
briefly spoken of, while certain parts of the second and
third missions, especially the concluding travels, are
related with minute details. A man wholly unfamiliar
with the apostolic history would not have practised
these inequalities. The general design of the work
would have been better conceived. It is this very dis
proportion that distinguishes history written from docu
ments, from that wholly or in part original. The his
torian of the closet takes for recital events themselves,
but the writer of memoirs avails himself of recollec
tions or personal relations. An ecclesiastical historian,
a sort of Eusebius, writing about the year 120, would
have left us a book quite differently arranged, after the
thirteenth chapter. The eccentric manner in which
the Aats at that period leave the orbit in which they
had until then revolved, cannot, in my opinion, be ex
plained in any other way than by the particular situa
tion of the author, and his relations with Paul. This
view will be naturally confirmed if we find among the

18 THE APOSTLES,
co-workers known to Paul, the name of the author to
whom tradition attributes the book of Acts.
And this is really what has taken place. Both man
uscript and tradition give for the author of the third
Gospel, a certain Lucanus'* or Lucas. From what has
been said, it is evident that if Lucas is really the
author of the third Gospel, he is also the author of the
Acts. Now, that very name of Lucas we also find
' mentioned as that of a companion of Paul, in the
Epistle to the Colossians, rv. 14 ; in the Epistle to Phi
lemon, 24 ; and in the Second Epistle to Timothy, iv. 11.
This last Epistle is of more than doubtful authenticity.
The Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon, on the
other hand, although very probably authentic, are not
the most indubitable of the Epistles of St. Paul ; but
nevertheless, in any event, they date from the first
century, and that is sufficient to positively establish
the fact that among the disciples of Paul there existed
a Lucas. The fabricator of the Epistles to Timothy is
certainly not the sam% one who fabricated those to
the Colossians and Philemon (conceding, contrary to
our opinion, that these last are apocryphal). To admit
that writers of fiction had attributed to Paul an
imaginary companion, would hardly appear probable ;
but certainly the different false writers would hardly
have fallen on the same name for this imaginary per
sonage. Two observations will give a special force to
this reasoning. The first is, that the name of Lucas or
Lucanus is an unusual one among the early Christians ;
and the second, that the Lucas of the Epistles is not
known elsewhere. The placing of a celebrated name
at the head of a work, as was done with the Second

THE APOSTLES. 19
Epistle of Peter, and very probably with the Epistles
of Paul to Titus and Timothy, was in no manner
repugnant to the custom of the times ; but no one
would have thought of using in this way a name
otherwise unknown. If it were the intention of the
writer to invest his book with the authority of Paul,
why did he not take the name of Paul himself, or at
least the names of Timothy and Titus, well known
disciples of the apostle of the Gentiles ? Luke had no
place either in tradition, legend, or history. The three
passages in the Epistles previously alluded to were not
enough to give him the reputation of an admitted
authority. The Epistles to Timothy were probably
written after the Acts ; and the mention of Luke in the
Epistles to the Colossians and to Philemon are really
equal to only one allusion, these two works being- by
one hand. We believe, then, that the author of the
' third Gospel was really Luke, the disciple of Paul.
This very name of Luke or Lucanus, and the medical
profession practised by the so-called disciple of Paul,'^
fully accord with the indications which the two books
furnish in regard to their author. We have already
stated that the author of the third Gospel and the Acts
was probably from Philippi,'* a Eoman colony, where
the Latin tongue was in use." Besides this, the author
of the third Gospel and the Acts was but indifferently
acquainted wifh Judaism^" and the affairs of Palestine.^'
He knew but little of Hebrew ; ^ he was familiar with
the ideas of the heathen world,^ and he wrote Greek in
a tolerably correct manner. The work was composed
far from Judea, for a people unfamiliar with geography,
and who had respect^ neither for a marked Eabbinical

20 THE APOSTLES.
science nor for Hebrew names.=^ The dominant idea
of the author is, that if the people had been free to fol
low their inclination, they would have embraced the
faith of Jesus, and that the Jewish aristocracy pre
vented them from so doing.^^ He always imparts to
the word Jew a malevolent signification, as if it were
synonymous with an enemy bf the Christians f and on
the other hand he is decidedly favorable towards the
heretic Samaritan.^
To what epoch can we refer the composition of this
important work ? Luke appears for the first time in
the company of Paul, after the first journey of the
apostle to Macedonia, about the year 52. Allowing that
he was then twenty-five years old, it would have been
nothing more than natural had he lived until the year
100. The narrative of the Acts closes at the year 63,'*'
but the compiling of the work was evidently done after
that of the third Gospel ; and the date of the editing
of this third Gospel being evidently referable to the
years immediately following the fall of Jerusalem
(year 70),^ it is not possible the book of Acts was writ
ten earlier than the year 71 or 72.
If it were quite certain that the Acts were written
immediately after the Gospel, we might stop there. But
some doubt exists. Several facts lead us to the belief
that quite an interval elapsed between the compositions
of the two works ; and there is, indeed, a singular con
tradiction between the last chapter of the Gospel and
the first chapter of the Acts. In the former, the Ascen
sion seems to be recorded as taking place on the same
day as the Eesurrection f^ in the latter,^ the Ascension
only occurred after a lapse of forty days. It is clear

THE APOSTLES. 21
that this second version presents us with a more ad
vanced form of the legend, adopt8d*when it was found
necessary to make room for the different apparitions
of Christ, and to give to the post- resurrection life
of Jesus a complete and logical form. It may be pre
sumed, therefore, that this new method of arranging
the history only occurred to the author's mind during
the interval between the composition of the two works.
In any event, it is soraewhat remarkable that the author
should feel hiraself obliged, a few lines further on, to
devel6p his narrative by the recital of additional state
ments. If his first book was yet in his hands, would
he have made additions which, viewed separately, are
so awkwardly devised ? Tet this even is not decisive,
and an important circumstance gives occasion for the
belief that Luke conceived the plan of both works at
the same time. This circumstance is found in the pre
face to the Gospel, which appears common to the
two works.^ The contradiction to which we have
alluded can probably be explained by the little care
taken to account for every moment of time. Indeed,
all the recitals of the post-resurrection life of Jesus
are thoroughly contradictory in regard to the duration
of that existence. So little effort was made to be truly
historical, that the sarae narrator did not shrink from
proposing successively two irreconcilable systems. The
three descriptions of the Conversion of St. Paul in
the Acti'^ also show little differences, which only prove
that the author was not at all anxious about precision
in details.
It would appear, then, that we are very near the truth
in supposing that the Acts were written about the year

22 THE APOSTLES.
80. The tone of the book accords with the times of the
first Flavian emperofs. The author seemed to avoid
everything that could annoy the Eomans. He loves to
show how the Eoman functionaries were favorable to
the new sect ; how they even embraced its doctrines ; ^
how, at least, they defended its adherents from the
Jews, and how equitable and superior to the partisan
passions of the local authorities was the imperial justice
of Eome.^ He lays special stress on the advantages
inuring to Paul as a Eoman citizen.^' He abruptly
cuts short his narrative at the moment when Paul
arrives at Eome, probably to be relieved from record
ing the cruelties practised by Nero towards the Chris
tians.'* Striking, indeed, is the contrast between this
narrative and the Apocalypse, written in the year 68,
replete with memories of the infamies of Nero, and
breathing throughout a terrible hatred for Eome. In
the former case we recognise a quiet, amiable man,
living in a time of peaceful calm. From about the year
70 until the close of the first century, the Christians
had little to complain of. Members of the Flavian
family had adopted Christianity. It is even possible
that Luke knew Flavius Clemens, perhaps was one of
his household, and may have written the work for this
powerful personage. There are several indications
which lead us to believe that the work was written
in Eome, and it might be said that the author was
infiuenced by the Eoman Church, which, from the ear
liest centuries, possessed' the political and hierarchical
character that has ever since distinguished it. Luke
could well enter into this feeling, for his views upon
ecclesiastical authority were far advanced, and even

THB APOSTLES. 28
contained the germ of the Episcopate. He wrote his^
tory in the apologetic tone characteristic of the officials
of the Court of Eome. He acted as an ultramontane
historian of Clement XIV. might have done, praising
at the same time the Pope and the Jesuits, and trying
to persuade us that both parties in their debate observed
the rules of charity. Two hundred years hence it
will be maintained that Cardinal Antonelli and M. de
Merode loved each other like two brothers. The
author of the Acts was the first of these complacent
narrators, piously convinced that everything in the
Church must happen in a thoroughly evangelical
manner. He was, too, the most artless of them all.
Too loyal to condemn Paul, too orthodox to place
himself outside the pale of prevalent opinion, he
passed over real differences of doctrine, aiming to show
only the common end which all these great. founders
were pursuing, though by methods so opposite, and
in face of such energetic rivalries.
It will readily be understood that a man who pos
sesses such a disposition is, of all others, the least capa
ble of representing things as they really are. His
toric fidelity is to him a matter of indifference ; he is
only anxious to edify the reader. Luke scarcely con
cealed this tendency ; he writes " that Theophilus
should understand the truth of that which the catechists
had taught him."'^ He thus had already a settled
ecclesiastical system which he taught officially, and the
limit of which, as well as that of evangelical history*"
itself, was probably fixed. The dominant characteristics
of the Acts, like that of the third Gospel," are a tender
piety, a lively sympathy for the Gentiles,*^ a conciliatory

24 THE APOSTLES.
spirit, a marked tendency towards the supernatural, a
love for the humble and lowly, a large democratic sen
timent, or rather a persuasion that the people were
naturally Christian, and that the upper class prevented
them from following ont their good instincts,^ an
exalted idea of the power of the Church and of its
leaders, and a remarkable leaning towards social com-
munisih." The methods of composition are the same in
the two works; and indeed in regard to the history of
the apostles, are about as we would be in relation
to evangelical history, if our only idea of the latter
were derived from the Gospel according to St. Luke.
The disadvantages of such a situation are apparent.
The life of Jesus, told only by the writer of the third
Gospel, would be extremely defective and incomplete.
We know so, because in this case, comparison is possi
ble. Besides Luke, we possess (without speaking of the
fourth Gospel) Matthew and Mark, who, relatively to
Luke, are at least partially original. We can place
our finger on the places where Luke dislocates or mixes
up anecdotes, and can perceive the manner in which
he colors facts according to his personal views, and
adds pious legends to the most authentic traditions.
Could we make a similar comparison as regards the
Acts, would we not perceive analogous faults? The
earliest chapters of the Acts appear to us even inferior
to the third Gospel ; for these chapters were probably
composed from the fewer and less universally documen
tary references. ^
A fundamental distinction is here necessary. In a
historic point of view the book of Acts is divided into
two parts — one comprising the first twelve chapters, and

THE APOSTLES. 25
recounting the principal events in the history of the
primitive Church ; and the other containing the seven
remaining chapters, all devoted to the missions of St.
Paul. This second part, in itself, includes two kinds of nar
rative : one portion related by the narrator from his
ocular testimony, and the other consisting only of what
he has heard.
It is clear that even in this last case his authority is
very important. The conversation of St. Paul himself
is often drawn upon for information. Particularly
towards its close, the narrative is characterized by
remarkable precision ; and the last pages of the Acts
form indeed the only completely historical record that
we have of the origins of Christianity.
The first chapters, on the contrary, are the most open
to attack of all in the New Testament. In regard to
these early years, particularly, the author betrays dis
crepancies still more remarkable than those existing in
his Gospel.
His theory of forty days ; his account of the Ascen
sion, closing by a sort of final abduction and theatrical
solemnity ; the fantastic life of Jesus ; his manner of
describing the descent of the Holy Ghost, and of mira
culous preaching ; his method of understanding the
gift of tongues — all are difterent from St. Paul :*' all
betray the influence of an epoch Relatively inferior, and
of a period when legendary lore finds wide credence.
Supernatural effects and startling accessories are cha
racteristic of this author, who we should remember writes
half a century after the occurrences he describes ; in a
country far from the scene of action ; upon events which
2

26 THE APOSTLES.
neither he nor his master, Paul, has witnessed ; and fol
lowing traditions partly fabulous, or at least modified
by -time and repetition. Luke not only belonged to a
different generation from the founders of Christianity,
but he was also of a different race ; he was a Greek,
with very little of the Jew in him, and almost a stranger
to Jerusalem and to the secrets of Jewish life ; he had
never mingled with the primitive Christians, and indeed
scarcely knew their later representatives. The miracles
he relates, give the impression of inventions d priori
rather than of exaggerated facts ; the miracles of Peter
and Paul form two series, whicii respond to each other,*®
and in which the personages have a family resemblance.
Peter differs in nothing frora Paul, nor Paul from
Peter. The words which he puts in the mouth of his heroes,
although adapted to varying circumstances, are all in
the same style, and characteristic of the author himself
rather than those to whom he attributes them. His
text even contains impossibilities.*' The Acts, in a
word, form a dogmatic history so arranged as to support
the orthodox doctrines of the time or inculcate the
ideas which most fully accorded with the pious views
of the author. Nor could it be otherwise. The ori
gin of each religion was only known through the state
raents . of its adherents. It is only the sceptic who
writes history ad narrandum.
These are not siraply the suspicions and conjec
tures of a carping and defiant criticism. They are well
founded inductions ; every time that we have reviewed
the Acts we have found the book systematically faulty.
The control which we can demand of the synoptical

THE APOSTLES. 27
texts, we can demand also of St^ Paul, and particu
larly of the Epistle to the Galatians. It is clear, then,
where the Acts and the Epistles do not accord, prefer
ence should always be given to the latter, which
are older, possess absolute authenticity, thorough sin
cerity, and freed.om from legendary corruption. The
most important doctrines for history are those which
possess in the least degree the historic form. The
authority of chronicles must give place to medals,
maps, or authentic letters. Yiewed in this light, the
epistles of undoubted authors and well-authenticated
dates form the basis of all the history of Christian ori
gins. Without thera, doubts would weaken and de
stroy all faith even in the life of Jesus. Now, in two
very iraportant instances, the Epistles display in broad
light the peculiar tendencies of the author of the Acts,
and his desire to efface every trace of the dissensions
which had existed between Paul and the apostles at
Jerusalem.*^ And firstly, the author of the Acts makes out that
Paul, after the accident at Damascus (x. 19, and fol
lowing verses ; xxii. 17, and following verses), came to
Jerusalem at an epoch when his conversion was hardly
known ; that he had been presented to the apostles ;
that he had lived with them and the faithful brethren
on the most cordial terms ; that he had disputed pub
licly with the Hellenistic Jews, and that a conspiracy
on their part and a celestial revelation led to his de-
¦"parture from Jerusalem, Now Paul informs us that
the matter was quite different. To prove that he owes
to Jesus Himself and not to the Twelve his doctrine and
mission, he says. (Gal. 1. 11, and following verses) that

28 THE APOSTLES.
after his conversion he avoided taking counsel with any
one,*' or going to Jerusalem to consult with those who
had been apostles before himself; but that of his own
accord he went to preach and to carry out his personal
raission in Hauran ; that three days later, it is true, he
journeyed to Jerusalem, but only to make the acquaints
ance of Cephas ; that he remained fifteen days, but
saw no other apostle, excepting, perhaps, James, the
brother of the Lord ; so that, really, his countenance
was quite unknown to the churches of Judea. The
effort to soften the asperities of the severe apostle and
present him as a co-worker of the Twelve, laboring in
concert with them at Jerusalem, hence seems without
evidence. It has been given to appear that Jerusalem
was his capital and point of departure; that his doc
trine was so identical with that of the apostles that he
was able, to a great degree, to take their place as
preachers ; that his first apostolate was confined tO the
synagogues of Damascus ; that he had been a dis
ciple and listener, wliich was not the fact f that the
time between his conversion and his first journey to
Jerusalem was very short ; that his sojourn in that city
was quite protracted ; that his preaching was received
with general satisfaction ; that he lived on intimate
terms with all the apostles, though he assures us that
he had* seen but two of them ; and that the faithful of
Jerusalem took care of him, though Paul declares that
they were unknown to him.
The same disposition to prove that Paul was a fre
quent visitor to Jerusalem, which had induced our
author to prolong the apostle's stay in Jerusalem, seeras
also to have induced him to credit the apostle with

THE APOSTLES. 29
one journey too raany. He says that Paul carae to
Jerusalem with Barnabas, bearing the offerings of the
faithful after the year 44 (Acts xi. 30 ; xn. 25). Now,
Paul expressly declares that between the journey tnade
three years after his conversion and that raade in rela
tion to the subject of circumcision, he did not go to
Jerusalem at all (Gal. i. and ii.) ; in other words, be
tween Acts IX. 26, and xv. 2, Paul makes no mention
of any travel. One could wrongly deny the identity.
of the journey described in the second chapter of
Galatiarts with that mentioned in the fifteenth chapter
of Acts, and yet not be subject to contradiction.
" Three years after my conversion," says St. Paul, " I
went to Jerusalem to make the acquaintance of Cephas,
and fourteen years afterwards I went again to Jerusa
lem." There has been some doubt whether this period
of fourteen years dates from the conversion, or from the
journey three years subsequent to that event. We
will assume the first hypothesis as being most favora
ble to those who defend the account as given in Acts.
There would then, according to St. Paul, have been at
least eleven years between his first and second journey
to Jerusalem ; now surely there are not eleven years
between that which is related in Acts ix. 26 and the
following verses, and the account which we find in
Actsxi. 30, etc. By maintaining it against all show of
truth, one would fall into another impossibility. The
truth is, that which is related in Acts'xi. 30 is contem
poraneous with the death of James, the son of Zebe
dee,^' which having just preceded the death, in the
year 44, of Herod Agrippa I., furnishes us with the
only fixed date in the -Acts of the Apostles.^^ The

30 THE APOSTLES.
second journey took place at least fourteen years after
his conversion ; and if he had really made that jour
ney in the year 44 — the conversion must have occurred
in the year 30 — a theory which is manifestly absurd. It
is then impossible to allow any credence to the state
ments in Acts<xi. 30 and xn. 35.
All of these journeyings to and fro appear to be
reported by our author in a very inexact manner ; and
in comparing Acts xvii. 14-16, and xviii. 5, with 1
Thessalonians in. 1-2, another discrepancy- will be
found. As this last, however, has nothing to do with
doctrinal matters, we shall not discuss it here.
An important feature of the subject now before us,
and one which throws much light on this difficult ques
tion of the historical value of the Acts, is a compari
son of the passages relative to the discussion concern
ing circumcision in the fifteenth chapter of Acts and
the second chapter of the Epistle to the Galatians. Ac
cording to the Acts, certain of the brethren of Judea
coming to Antioch and maintaining the necessity of
the rite of circumcision for converted heathen, Paul,
Barnabas, and several others were appointed as a depu
tation to go from Antioch to Jerusalem to consult the
apostles aud elders on this question. They were warm
ly received by their brethren at the Holy City, and a
great convention was held. The sentiments of recipro
cal charity which prevailed, and the great satisfaction
experienced by these co-religionists at thus meeting
again together, dispelled all feeling of dissension. Pe
ter gave utterance to the opinion which had been
anticipated from the mouth of Paul, viz. that the con
verted heathen were not subjopt to the law of Moses.

THB APOSTLES. 31
James modified this only by a very light restriction.^'
Paul did not speak, and indeed had no reason to do so,
because his views were fully expressed by Peter; and
the theory of the Judean brethren found no supporters.
According to the advice of James, a soleran decree was
made and communicated by deputies expressly chosen
to the various churches.
Let us now exaraine the account given by Paul in
the Epistle to the Galatians. It was his desire that
this journey to Jerusalem should have the effect of a
spontaneous movement, or even be deeraed the result
of a revelation. On his arrival at Jerusalem he com
municated his gospel to whom it concerned, and had
private interviews with raany important personages.
No one criticised his actions nor troubled him with
coramunications, but only begged him to reraeraber
the poor of Jerusalem. Titus, who accompanied him,
consented'to be circumcised, but only through the rep-
¦ resentations of " two false intruding brethren." Paul
permitted this incidental concession, but he would not
submit to thera. As to the raore prorainent men (and
Paul never speaks of them excepting with a shade of
bitterness and iroiiy), they learn nothing new from
hira. He even disputed with Cephas " because he was
wrong." At first, indeed, Cephas mingled with every
one without distinction. Eraissaries arrived from
James ; and Peter hid hiraself, avoiding the uncircum
cised. Paul publicly apostrophized Cephas, bitterly
reproaching hira for his conduct, " seeing that he did
not keep in the narrow path of gospel truth."
Observe the difference. On the one side holy con
cord; on the other, extrerae susceptibility and half-

32 THE APOSTLES.
restrained anger. On one side a harmonious council ;
and on the other, nothing resembling it. On the one
side a forraal decree emanating from a recognised autho
rity ; on the other, antagonistic opinions reciprocally con
ceding nothing excepting for form's sake. It is needless
to say which version merits our preference. The account
given in the Acts is scarcely truthful, because the dis
pute in which the Council was engaged is not alluded
to after the Council w§,s reunited. The two orators here
raake use. of expressions contradictory to what they
had elsewhere said. The decree which the Council is
reported to have made, is assuredly a fiction. If this
decree, emanating from the pen of James, had really
been promulgated, why should the good and timid
Peter have been afraid of the messengers sent by
James? Why should he hide himself? He, as well
as the Christians of Antioch, was acting in entire con
formity with this decree, the terms of whiclThad been
dictated by James himself. The discussion relating to
circumcision took place about 51 ; yet several years after,
about the year 56, the quarrel which this decree should
have terminated, was more lively than ever. The
Church of Galatia was troubled by new eraissaries
sent by the Jewish party of Jerusalem.'' Paul answers
to this new attack of his enemies by his terrible Epistle.
If the decree reported in the fifteenth chapter of the
Acts had existed, Paul, by referring to it, would have
had a much sirapler method of bringing the debate to
a close. Now, everything that he says, intimates the
non-existence of this decree ; and in 67, Paul writing to
the Corinthians, not only ignores it, but even violates
its directions. The decree commands abstinence frora

THE APOSTLES. 33
flesh offered to idols ; but Paul, on the contrary, thinks
it no wrong to eat of this flesh as long as no one is
scandalized by the act, though he advises abstinence
should it give offence to any one.'° In 58, at last, after
the last journey of Paul to Jerusalem, James was more
obstinate than ever."^ One of the characteristic traits
of the book of Acts, clearly proving that the author is
less anxious to present historic truth or even to satisfy
logical reasoning than to edify pious readers, is this fact,
that the question of the admission of the uncircumcised
is always on the point of being resolved without ever
attaining that consumraation. The baptism of the
eunuch of Candia, the baptism ofthe centurion Cornelius,
both miraculously ordered ; the foundation of the
Church at Antioch (xi. 19 ; and following verses) ; the
pretended Council at Jerusalem — all leave the question
yet in suspense. In truth, it always remained in that
state. The two fractions of budding Christianity never
came together ; and that one which maintained the
practices of Judaism proved unfruitful, and soon van
ished in obscurity. So far from finding general accep
tation, Paul after his death was calumniated, and even
anathematized, by no inconsiderable portion of Christi
anity.'* In our third book we shall dwell at length on the
subject to which these singular incidents refer. Our
object at present is only to give a few examples of the
manner in which the author of the Acts interprets
history, and to show how he reconciles it with his pre
conceived ideas. Must we therefore agree with certain
celebrated critics that the first chapters of the Acts are
without authenticity, and that his leading characters,
2*

34 THE APOSTLES.
such as the eunuch, the centurion Cornelius, and even
the deacon Stephen, and the pious Tabitha, are
mere creations of fiction? By no means. It is not
probable that the author of the Acts invented his per
sonages ; '' but he is a skilful lawyer who writes to
prove, and who, from facts of which he has heard, tries
to deduce arguraents in favor of his cherished theories,
which are the legitimacy of the calling of the Gentiles
and the divine institution of the hierarchy. Tliough
such a document should be used with great care, its
entire rejection would show as little critical acumen as
its blind acceptation. Several paragraphs even in the
first part possess a value universally recognised as
representing authentic memoirs quoted frora the last
compiler. The twelfth chapter, in particular, is without
alloy, and seems to emanate from St. Mark.
It would indeed be unsatisfactory if for this history
we had as our documents of reference only this legend
ary book. Happily there are others which, though
they relate directly to the period to which our third
book will be devoted, yet throw much light upon this
epoch. Such are the Epistles of St. Paul ; the Epistle
to the Galatians, above all, is really a treasure : the
basis of all the chronology of that period, the key
which unlocks all, the testimony which assures the
most sceptical of the reality of things which cannot be
doubted. I wish that the serious readers who raay
feel terapted to regard rae as too bold or too credulous,
would re-peruse the first two chapters of this singular
Epistle; these chapters are certainly the two most
important pages in the history of budding Christianity.
The Epistles of St. Paul indeed possess in their absolute

THB APOSTLES. 35
authenticity an unequalled advantage iu this history.
Not the slightest doubt has been raised by serious
criticism against the authenticity of the Epistle to the
Galatians, the two Epistles to the Corinthians, or the
Epistle to the Eomans ; while the arguments on which
are founded the attacks on the two Epistles to the
Thessalonians and that to the Philippians are without
value. At the beginning of our third book we shall
discuss the more specious though equally indecisive
objections which have been raised against the Epistle
to the Colossians and the little note to Philemon ; the
particular problem presented by the Epistle to the
Ephesians ; and at last the proofs which have led us to
reject the two Epistles to Timothy and that to Titus.
The Epistles which shall serve our need in the
present volume are all of indubitable authority, while
the deductions we shall draw from the others are quite
independent of the question whether they were or
were not dictated by St. Paul. It is not necessary to
revert here to the rules of criticism which have been
followed in the composition of this work, and which has
already been done in the introduction to the Life of
Jesus. The twelve first chapters of the Acts form a
docuraent analogous to the synoptical Gospels and to
be treated in the same manner. This species of docu
ment,' half historical and half legendary, can be
accepted neither as legend nor as history; while in
detail nearly everything is false, we can nevertheless
exhume therefrom precious truths. A pure and literal
ti-anslation of these narratives, which are often contra
dicted by better authenticated texts, is not history.
Often in cases where we have but one text there is

36 THE APOSTLES.
fear that if others existed it would be contradicted. As
regards the life of Jesus, the narrative of Luke is
always controlled and corrected by the two other
synoptical Gospels and by the fourth. Is it not proba
ble, I repeat, that if we had a work bearing the same
relation to the Acts that the synoptical Gospels do to
the fourth Gospel, the book of Acts would be defec
tive in many points on which we now receive it as
testimony? Entirely different rules will guide us in
our third book, where we shall be in the full light of
positive history, and shall possess original and some
times autographical information. When St. Paul
himself relates some epispde of his life, regarding
which his interest demanded no special interpretation,
of course we need only insert his identical words in
our work, as Tillemont does. But, when we have to
do with a narrator identified with a certain system,
writing in support of certain ideas, preparing his work
in the vague blunt style and with the highly wrought
colors peculiar to legendary lore, the duty of the critic
is to free hiraself from the thraldom of the text and to
penetrate through it lo the truths which it conceals,
without, however, being too confident that he has dis
covered that truth. To debar criticism from sirailar
interpretations would be as unreasonable as to limit
the astronomer ,to the visible state of the heavens.
Does not astronomy, on the contrary, involve an allow
ance for the parallax caused by the position of the
observer, and construe from apparent deceptive appear
ances the real condition of the starry skies ?
Why, then, should a literal interpretation of docu
ments containing irreconcilable discrepancies be urged?

THE APOSTLES. 37
The first twelve chapters of the Acts are a tissue of
miracles. It is an absolute rule of criticism to deny a
place in history to narratives of miraculous circum
stances ; nor is this owing to a metaphysical system,
for it is simply the dictation of observation. Such facts
have never been really proved. All the pretended
miracles near enough to be examined are referable to
illusion or imposture. If a single miracle had ever
been proved, we could not reject in a mass all those
of ancient history ; for, admitting that very many of
these last were false, we might still believe that some
of them were true. But it is not so. Discussion and
examination are fatal to miracles. Are we not then
authorized in believing, that those miracles which date
many centuries back, and regarding which there are no
raeans of forraing a contradictory debate, are also with
out reality ? In other words, miracles only exist when
people believe in them. The supernatural is but another
word for faith. Catholicism, in maintaining that it yet
possesses miraculous power, subjects itself to the influ
ence of this law. The miracles of which it boasts never
occur where they would be most effective ; why should
not such a convincing proof be brought more promi
nently forward ? A miracle at Paris, for instance, be
fore experienced savants, would put an end to all
doubts I But, alas ! such a thing never happens. A
miracl^ never takes place before an incredulous and
sceptical public, the most in need of such a convincing
proof. Credulity on part of the witness is the essential
condition of a miracle. There is not a solitary excep
tion to the rule that miracles are never produced before
those who are able or permitted to discuss and criticise

38 THE APOSTLES.
thera. Cicero, with his usual good sense and penetra
tion, asks : " Since when has this secret force disap
peared; has it not been since raen have becorae less
credulous ? " ^
" But," it raay be urged, " if it is impossible to prove
that there ever was any instance of supernatural power,
it is equally impossible to prove that there was not.
The positive savant who denies the supernatural, argues
as gratuitously as the credulous one who admits it ! "
Not at all. It is the duty of him who affirms a propo
sition to prove it, while he to whom the affirmation is
raade has only to listen to the proof and to decide
whether it is satisfactory. If any one had asked Buffon
to give a place in his Natural History to sirens and
centaurs, he would have answered : " Show mea speci
men of these beings and I will admit them ; until then,
I do not admit their existence." " But can you prove
that they do not exist?" the other may say, and
Buffon would reply : " It is your province to prove that
they do exist." In science the burden of proof rests on
those who advance alleged facts. Why, although innu
merable historic writings claim their existence, do peo
ple no longer believe in angels and demons ? Simply
because the existence of an angel or a demon has never
yet been proved.
In support of the reality of miraculous agency, appeal
is made to phenomena outside of the course of natural
laws, such, for instance, as the creation of man. This
creation, it has been said, could only have been com
passed by the direct intervention of the Divinity, and
why was not this intervention raanifested at other deci
sive crises of the development of the universe ? I shall

THE APOSTLES. 39
not dwell upon the strange philosophy and sordid
appreciation of the Divinity raanifested in such a sys
tem of reasoning. History should have its method,
independent of all philosophy. Without at all enter
ing upon the domain of theology, it is easy to show
how defective is this argument. It is equivalent to
maintaining that everything which does not happen in
the ordinary conditions of the world, everything that
cannot be explained by ,the present rules of science, is
miraculous. But, according to this, the sun is a mira
cle, because science has never explained the sun ; the
conception of mankind is a miracle, because physio
logy is silent on that point ; conscience is a miracle,
because it is an absolute raystery ; and every aniraal is
a miracle, because the origin of life is a problera of
which we know next to nothing. The reply that every
life, every soul, is of an order superior to nature, is
simply a play upon words. So we understand it, and
yet the word miracle remains to be explained. How is
that a miracle which happens every day and hour ?
The miraculous is not simply the inexplicable, it is a
formal derogation from recognised laws in the narae of
a particular desire. What we deny to the rairacle is
the exceptional state or the results of particular inter
vention, as in the case of a clockmaker who raay have
made a clock very handsome to look at, but requiring at
intervals the hand of its maker to supply a deficiency
in itsjmechanisra. We acknowledge heartily that God
may be permanently in everything, particularly in eveiy-
thing that lives ; and we only maintain there has never
been convincing proof of any particular intervention of
supernatiiral force. We deny the reality of supernatural

40 THB APOSTLES.
agency until we are made cognizant of a demonstrated
fact of this nature. To search for this demonstration an
terior to the creation of man ; to go outside of history for
historical miracles, dating back to epochs when all proof
is impossible — all this is to seek refuge behind a cloud,
to prove one doubtful proposition by another equally ob
scure, to bring against a recognised law an alleged fact
of which we know nothing. If miracles, which only
took place so long ago that no witness of them now
exists, are invoked, it is siraply because none can be
cited for which competent witnesses can be claimed.
In far distant epochs, beyond doubt, there occurred
phenomena which, on the same scale at least, are not
repeated in the world of to-day. But there was at the
time they happened a cause for these phenomena. In
geological formations may be met a great number of
minerals and precious stones which nature seems no
longer to produce ; and yet most of them have been
artificially recomposed by Messieurs Mitscherlich, Ebel-
man, De Senarmont, and Daubr^e. If life cannot be
artificially produced, it is because the reproduction of
the conditions in which life commenced (if it ever did
coraraence) will' probably be always beyond human
grasp. How can the planet that disappeared thousands
of years ago be brought back ? How form an expe
rience, which has lasted for centuries ? The diversity
of thousands of ages of slow evolution is what one for
gets in denominating as miracles the phenomena which
occurred in other times, but which occur no more. Far
back in the vast range of heavenly bodies, are now
perhaps taking place movements which, nearer us, have
ceased since a period infinitely distant. The formation

THE APOSTLES. 41
of humanity, if we think of it as a sudden instantane
ous thing, is certainly of all things in the world the
most shocking and absurd ; but it maintains its place
in general analogies (without losing its mystery) if it is
viewed as the result of a long-continued progress, last
ing during incalculable ' ages. The laws of matured
life are not applicable to embryotic life. The embryo
develops all its organs one after another. It creates
no more, because it is no longer at the creative age ;
just as language is no longer invented, because there is
no more to invent. But why longer follow up adver
saries who beg the question ? We ask for a proven
miracle, and are told that it took place anterior to his
tory. Certainly, if. any proof were wanting of the
necessity of supernatural beliefs to certain states of the
soul, it would be found in the fact that raany rainds
gifted in all other points with due penetration, have re
posed their entire faith in an arguraent as desperate as this.
There are sorae persons who yield up the idea of
physical miracles, but still maintain the existence of a
sort of moral rairacle, without which, in their opinion,
certain great events cannot be explained. Assuredly
the formation of Christianity is the grandest fact in the
religious history of the world ; but for all that, it is by
no means a miracle. Buddhism and Babism have
counted as many excited and resigned martyrs as even
Christianity. The miracles of the founding of Islam-
ism are of an entirely different character, and I con
fess have very little effect on me. It may, however,
be remarked that the Mussulman doctors deduce from
the remarkable establishment of their religion, from its
marvellously rapid diffusion, from its rapid conquests,

42 THB APOSTLES.
and from the force which gives it so absolute a govern
ing power, precisely the same arguraents which Chris
tian apologists bring forward in relation to the esta
blishment of Christianity, and which, they claim, ^how
clearly the hand of God. Let us allow that the foun
dation of Christianity is something utterly peculiar.
Another equally peculiar thing, is Hellenism ; under
standing by that word the ideal of perfection realized
by grace in literature, art, and philosophy. Greek art
surpasses all other arts, as the Christian religion sur
passes all other religions; and the Acropolis at Athens
a collection of masterpieces beside which all other
attempts are only like gropings in the dark, or, at the
best, imitations more or less successful, is perhaps that
which, above everything else, defies comparison. Hel
lenism, in other words, is as much a prodigy of beauty
as Christianity is a prodigy of sanctity.
A unique action or development is not necessarily
miraculous. God exists in various degrees in all that
is beautiful, good, and true ; but he is never so ex
clusively in any one of His manifestations, that the
presence of His vitalizing breath in a religious or phi
losophical movement should be deemed a privilege or
an exception.
I am not without hope that the interval of two years
and a half that has elapsed since the publication of the
Life of Jesus, has led many readers to consider these
problems with calmness. Without knowing or wish
ing it, religious controversy is always a dishonesty. It
is not always its province to discuss with independence
and to examine with anxiety; but it raust defend a
determined doctrine, and prove that he who dissents

THE APOSTLES. 43
from it is either ignorant or dishonest. Calumnies,
misconstructions, falsifications of ideas or words, boast
ing arguments on points not raised by the opponent,
shouts of victory over errors which he has not com
mitted — none of these seem to be considered un
worthy weapons by those who believe they are called
upon to maintain the interests of an absolute ti'uth. I
would be ignorant indeed of history, if I had not
known all this. I am indifferent enough^ however, not
to feel it very deeply ; and I have enough respect for
the faith, to kindly appreciate whatever was touch
ing or genuine in the sentiments which actuated ray
antagonists. Often, after observing the artlessness, the
pious assurance, the frank anger, so freely expressed
by so many good people, I have said as John Huss did
at the sight of an old woraan perspiring under the
weight of a faggot she was feebly dragging to his
stake : " 0 sancta simplicitas I " I have only regretted
at times the waste of sentiment. According to the
beautiful expression of Scripture : " God is not in the
fire." If all this annoyance proved instrumental in
aiding the cause of truth, there would be something
of consolation in it. But it is not always so ; Truth is
not for the angry and passionate man. She reserves
herself for those who, freed from partisan feeling, from
persistent affection, and enduring hate, seek her with
entire liberty, and with no mental reservation refer
ring to human affairs. These problems form only one
of the innumerable questions with which the world is
crowded, and wliich the curious are fond of studying.
No one is offended by the announcement of a mere
theoretical opinion. Those who would guard their

44 THE APOSTLES.
faith as a treasure can defend it very easily by ignor
ing all works written in an opposing spirit. The tiraid
would do better by dispensing with reading.
There are persons of a very practical turn of mind,
who, on hearing of any new scientific work, ask what
political party the author aims to please, and who
think that every poem should contain a moral lesson.
These people think that propagandism is the only ob
ject that a writer has in view. The idea of an art or
science aspiring only after the true and beautiful, with
out regard either to policy or politics, is something
quite strange to them. Between such persons and our
selves misapprehensions are inevitable. " There are
people," said a Greek philosopher, " who take with
their left hand what is offered to thera with their right."
A nuraber of letters, dictated by a really honest senti
raent, which have been sent me, may be summed up
in the question, " What is the matter with you ? What
end are you aiming at ? " Why, I write for precisely
the same reason that all historical writers do. If I
could have several lives, I would devote one to writing
a life of Alexander, another to a history of Athens,
and a third to either a history of the French Eevolu-
tion or the monkish order of St. Francis. In writing
these works I would be actuated by a desire to find the
truth, and would endeavor to make the mightj: events
of the past known with the greatest possible exactness,
and related in a manner worthy of them. Far from
me be the thought of shocking the religions faith of
any person ! Such works should be prepared with as
much supreme indifference as if they were written in
another planet. Every concession to the scruples of

THE- APOSTLES. 45
an inferior order, is a derogation frora the dignity and
culture of ^rt and truth. It can at once be seen that
the absence of proselytism is the leading feature of
works composed in such a spirit.
The first principle of the critical school is the allow
ance in raatters of faith of all that is needed, and the
adaptation of beliefs to individual wants. Why should
we be foolish enough to concern ourselves about things
over which no one has ^ny control? If any person
adopts our principles it is because he has the raental
tendency and the education adapted to thera ; and all
our efforts will not be able to irapart this tendency and
this education to those who do not naturally possess
them. Philosophy differs from faith in this, that faith
is believed to operate by itself independently of the
intelligence acquired frora dogmas. We, on the con
trary, hold that truth only possesses value when it
comes of itself, and when the order of its ideas is
comprehended. We do not consider ourselves oblig
ed to maintain silence in regard to those opinions
which may not be in accord with the belief of some of
our fellow-creatures ; we will make no sacrifice to the
exigencies of differing orthodoxies, but neither have
we any idea of attacking them ; we shall only act as
if they did not exist. For myself, it would be really
painful to me for any one to convict me of an effort to
attract to my side of thinking a solitary adherent who
would not come voluntarily. I would conclude that
ray mind was perturbed in its serene liberty, or that
something weighed heavily upon it, if Iwere no longer
able to content myself with the simple and joyous con
templation of the universe.

46 THE APOSTLES.
It will readily be supposed that if my object was to
make war upon established religions, I should adopt
different tactics, and should confine myself to exposing
the impossibilities and the contradictions in texts and
dogmas that are viewed as sacred. This work has been
often and ably done. In 1865*' I wrote as follows :
" I protest once for all against the false interpretation
which has been given to ray writings, in accepting as
polemical works the various essays and religious and
historical matters which I have published, or raay here
after publish. Viewed as polemical works, these es
says, I am well aware, are very unskilful. Polemics
demand a strategy to which I am a stranger ; it re
quires the writer to choose the weak point of his ad
versaries, to hold on to it, to avoid uncertain questions,
to beware of all concession, and practically renounce
even the essence of scientific spirit. Such is not my
method. Eevelation and the supernatural — those fun
damental questions around which inust revolve all reli
gious discussion — I do not touch upon ; not because I
may not answer these questions with thorough cer
tainty, but because such a discussion is not scientific,
or, rather, because independent science presupposes
that such questions are already answered. For me to
pursue any polemical or proselyting end, would be to
bring forward araong the raost difficult and delicate
probleras, a question which can be more satisfactorily
treated in the more practical phraseology in whicii
controversialists and apologists usually discuss it. Far
frora regretting the advantages which I thus deprive
rayself of, I would be well pleased thereat, if I could
thus convince theologians that my writings are of a

THE APOSTLES. 47
different order to theirs, that they are only intended as
scholarly researches, open to attack as such, when they
sometimes attempt to apply to the Christian and Jew
ish religions the sarae principles of criticism which are
adopted towards other branches of history and philo
logy. Questions of a purely theological nature I ara
no more called upon to discuss, than are Burnouf,
Creuzer, Guizniaut, and other critical historians of
ancient religions, to defend the creeds which they have
made their study. The history of huraanity seeras to
me to be a vast grouping where everything, though
unequal and diverse, is of the same general order,
arises from the same causes, and is subject to the same
laws. These laws I seek with-out any other intention
than to understand thera exactly as they. are. Nothing
will ever induce me to leave a sphere, humble it may
be, but valuable to science, for the paths of the contro
versialist, who is always certain of the countenance of
those interested in opposing war to war.
For the polemic systera, the necessity of which I
do not deny, though it is neither adapted to ray
tastes nor to ray capabilities, Voltaire was enough.
One cannot be, at the sarae time, a good controver
sialist and a good historian. Voltaire, so weak in mere
erudition; Voltaire who, "to us initiated into a better
raethod, seeras so poorly to comprehend the spirit of
antiquity, is twenty times victorious over adversaries
yet raore destitute of tfue criticism than himself. A
new edition of the works of this great man would furnish
a reply that is now much needed to the usurpations of
theology — a reply poor in itself, but well suited to that
which it would combat ; a weak, old-fashioned reply

48 THE APOSTLES.
to a weak, old-fashioned science. Let us, who possess
a love of the true and an inquiring spirit, do better.
Let us leave these discussions to those who care for
them ; let us work for the limited class who follow the
true path of the human mind. Popularity, I know, is
more easily gained by those writers who, instead of
pursuing the most elevated form of truth, devote their
energies to combating the opinions of their age ; yet
bj"^ a. just compensation, they are of no value after the
theories they combat are abandoned. Those who, iu
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, refuted magic
and astrology, rendered an immense service to right
and truth ; and yet their writings are to-day unknown,
and their very victory has consigned them to oblivion.
I shall always hold to this rule of conduct as the only
one suitable to the dignity ofthe savant. I know that
researches into religious history always bring one face
to face with vital questions which seem to demand a
solution. Persons unfamiliar with free speculation
do not at all comprehend the calm deliberation of
thought ; practical minds grow impatient of a science
which does not respond to their desires. Let us guard
against this vain ardor ; let us remain in our respective
Churches, profiting by their secular teachings and their
traditions of virtue, participating in their charitable
works, and enjoying the poetry of their past. Let us only
reject their intolerance. Let us even pardon this into
lerance, for like egotism it is one of the necessities of
human nature. The formation of new religious farai
lies or beliefs, or any iraportant change in the proportions
of those existing to-day, is contrary to present indica
tions. Catholicism will soon be scarred and seamed by

THE APOSTLES. 49
great schisms ; the days of Avignon, of the anti-popes,
of the Clementists and the Urbanists,-are about to return.
The Catholic Church will see another sixteenth century ;
and yet, notwithstanding its divisions, it will reraain
the Catholic Church. It is not probable-that for a hun
dred years to come the relative proportions of Protest
ants, Catholics, and Jews, will be materially varied. But
a great change will be accomplished, or, at least, people
will become sensible of it. Every one of these religious
families will have two classes of adherents ; the one be
lieving simply and absolutely after the manner of the
middle ages, the other sacrificing the letter of the law
and maintaining its spirit. In every communion this
latter great class will increase ; and-as the spirit- draws
together quite as much as the letter separates, the spi-
ritually-rainded of each faith will be brought nearer.
Fanaticism M'ill be lost in a general tolerance. The
theory of the dogma will become merely a mysterious
vault which no one will ever care to open ; and if the
vault be empty, of what importance is it ? Only one re
ligion — ^Islamisra alone, I fear — will resist this raoUify-
ing process. Araong certain Mahoraraedans ot the old
school, several eminent raen in Constantinople, and
above all among the Persians, there are the germs of
a tolerant and conciliatory spirit. If these germs of
good be crushed by the fanaticisra of the Uleinas, Is-
laraisra will perish ; for two things are evident — that
modern civilization does not wish to see the old reli
gions entirely die out; and that, on the other hand, it will
not be impeded in its work by senile religious institu
tions ; these latter must either bend or break.
And why should pure religion, which cannot be

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

THB APOSTLES. 51
man, placed in ground not consecrated, carries there a
consecration with it.
There are, without , doubt, positions when the appli
cation of these principles is difficult. The spirit of
liberty, like the wind, bloweth wherever it Ksteth.
There are often people like clergymen, riveted, as it
were, to an absolute faith ; but even among them, a
noble mind rises to the full extent of the issue. A
worthy country priest, through his solitary studies and
the simple purity of his life, comes to a knowledge of
the impossibilities of literal dogmatism ; and raust he
therefore sadden those whom he formerly consoled, and
explain to the simple folk those mental processes which
they cannot comprehend ? Heaven forbid ! There are
no. two men in the world whose paths of duty are
exactly alike. The excellent Bishop Colenso showed an
honesty which the Church since her origin has not seen
surpassed, in writing out his doubts as they occurred
to him. But the humble Catholic priest, surrounded
by timid and narrow-minded souls, must be quiet. Oh !
how many close-mouthed tombs about our village
churches, hide similar poetic reticence and angelic
silence ! Do those who speak when dnty dictates, equal,
after all, in merit, those who in secret cherish and
restrain the doubts known only to God ?
Theory is not practice. The ideal should reraain the
ideal, for it may become soiled and contaminated by
contact with reality. Sentiments appropriate enough
to those who are preserved by their innate nobleness
from all moral danger, are not as suitable to those who
are of a lower grade. It is only from ideas strictly
limited that great actions are evolved ; and this is

52 THE APOSTLES.
because huraan capacity is liraited, A man wholly
without prejudice would be powerless aiid uninfluen
tial. Let us enjoy the liberty of the sons of God ; but
let us also beware that we are not accomplices in dirain-
ishirig the sum-total of virtue in the world — a result
whicii would necessarily arise, were Christianity to be
weakened. What, indeed, would we be without it ?
What would replace the noble institutions to which it
gave birth, such as the association of the Sisters of
Charity ? How cold-hearted, mean, and petty mankind
would become! Our disagreement with those who
believe in positive religions, is, after all, purely scien
tific ; we are with them at heart ; and we combat bnt
one enemy, which is theirs as well as ours — and this
enemy is vulgar materialism.
Peace, then, iu the name of God ! Let the different
orders of men live , side by side, and pass their days,
not in doing injustice to their own proper spirit by
making concessions which would only deteriorate them,
but in mutually supporting each other. Nothing here
below should rule to the exclusion of its opposite; no
one force should have the power to . suppress other
forces. The true harmony of huraanity results from
the free use of discordant notes. We know too well
what follows when orthodoxy succeeds in overpowering
science. The Mussulraan element in Spain was extir
pated because it clung too fondly to its orthodox views.
The experience of the French Eevolution shows us
what we may expect when Eationalism attempts to
govern people without reference to their religious
needs. The instinct of art, carried to a high pitch of
refinement, but without honesty, made of Italy a den

THE APOSTLES. 53
;of thieves and cut-throats. Stupidity and mediocrity
are the bane of certain Protestant countries, where,
under the pretext of common sense and Christian
spirit, art and science are both absolutely degraded.
Lucretia of Eome and Saint Theresa, Aristophanes and
Socrates, Voltaire and Francis of Assisi, Eaphael and
St. Vincent de Paul, all enjoyed, to an equal degree,
the right of existence, and humanity would have been
lesened, had a single one of these iudividual elements
been wanting.

CHAPTEE I.
FORMATION OF BELIEFS RELATIVE TO THE EESUEEECTION
OF JEStrS. — THE APPAErriONS AT JEEUSALEM.
Jesus, although constantly speaking of resurrection
and of a new life, had not declared very plainly that
he should rise again in the flesh.^
The disciples, during the first hours which elapsed
after his death, had, in this respect, no fixed hope. The
sentiments which they so artlessly confide to ns show
that they believed all to be over. They bewail and
bury their friend, if not as one of the common herd
who had died, at least as a person whose loss was irre
parable ;^ they were sorrowful and cast down ; the
expectation which they had indulged of seeing him
realize the salvation of Israel, is proved to have been
vanity ; we should speak of them as of men who have
lost a grand and beloved illusion.
But enthusiasm and love do not recognise situations
unfruitful of results. They arause themselves with
what is impossible, and, rather than renounce all hope,
they do violence to every reality. Many words of their
Master which they remembered — those, above all, in
which he had predicted his future advent — might be
interpreted to mean that he would rise frora the tomb.*
Such a belief was, otherwise, so natural, that the faith
of the disciples would have been sufficient to have
invented it in all its, parts. The great prophets Enoch

THE APOSTLES. - ' 55
and Elijah had not tasted death. They began to ima
gine that the patriarchs and the chief fathers of the old
law were not really dead, and that their bodies were
sepulchred at Hebron, alive and animated.. To Jesus
had happened the same fortune which is the lot of all
men who have riveted the attention of their fellow-men.
The world, accustomed to attribute to them superhuman
virtues, could not adrait that they had submitted to the
unjust, revolting, iniquitous law of the death common
to all. At the moment at which- Mahomet expired,
Omar rushed from the tent, s-w^ord in hand, and de
clared that he would hew down the head of any one
who should dare to say that the prophet was no more.'
Death is so absurd a thing when it smites the man
of genius or the raan of large heart, that people will
not believe in the possibility of such an error on the
part of nature. Heroes do not die. What is ti'ue exist
ence but the recollection of us which survives in the
hearts of those who love us ? For sorae years this
adored Master had filled the little world by which He
was surrounded with joy and hope ; could they consent
to allow Him to the decay of the tomb ? No ; He had
too entirely lived in those who surrounded Him, that
they could but affirm that after His death He would
live for ever.*
The day which followed the burial of Jesus (Saturday,
the 15th ofthe month Nisan), was occupied with such
thoughts as these. All manual labor was forbidden on
account of the Sabbath. But never was repose raore
fruitful. The Christian conscience had, on that day,
only one object ; the Master laid low in the tomb. The
women, especially, overwhelmed him in spirit with the

56 THE APOSTLES.
most tender caresses. Their thoughts leave not for an
instant this sweet friend, lying in His myrrh, whom the
wicked had slain ! Ah ! doubtless, the angels are sur
rounding Hira, and veiling their faces with His shroud.
Well did He say that He should die, that His death
would be the salvation of the sinner, and that He should
live again in the .kingdom of His father. Yes! He
shall live again ; God will not leave His Son a prey to
hell ; He will not suffer His elect to see corruption.'
What is this tombstone which weighs upon Him ? He
will raise it up ; He will reascend to the right hand of
Iiis Father, whence He descended. And we shall see
Ilim again ; we shall hear His charming voice ; we
shall enjoy afresh His conversations, and they will have
slain Him in vain.
The belief in the immortality of the soul, which
through the infiuence of the Grecian philosophy has
become a dogma of Christianity, is easily permitted to
take the part of death ; because the dissolution of the
body, by this hypothesis, is nothing else than a deli
verance of the soul, hereafter freed from the trouble
some bonds without which it is able to exist. But this
theory of man, considered as a being composed of two
substances, was by no means clear to the Jews. The
reign of God and the reign of the spirit consisted, in
their ideas, in a complete transformation of the world
and in the annihilation of death.* To acknowledge
that death could have the victory, over Jesus, over hiin
who came to abolish the power of death, this was the
height of absurdity. The very idea that he could
suffer had previously been revolting to his disciples.'
They had no choice, then, between despair or heroic

THB APOSTLES. 57
affirmation. A pian of penetration raight have an
nounced during the Saturday that Jesus would arise.
The little Christian society, on that day, worked the
veritable miracle ; they resuscitated Jesus in their hearts
by the intense love which they bore towards him.
They decided that Jesus had not died. The love of
these passionately fond souls was, truly, stronger than
death ;'" and as the characteristic of a passionate love is
to be communicated, to light up like a torch a senti
ment which resembles it and is straightway indefi
nitely propagated ; so Jesus, in one sense, at the tirae of
which we are speaking, is already resuscitated. Only
let a material fact, insignificant of itself, allow the per
suasion that his body is no longer here below, and the
dogma of the resurrection will be established for ever.
This was exactly what happened in the circum
stances which, being partly obscure on account of the
incoherence of their traditions, and above all on ac
count of the contradictions which they present, have
nevertheless been seized upon with a sufficient degree
of probability."
On the Sunday morning, at a very early hour, the
women of Galilee who on Friday evening had hastily
embalmed the body, repaired to the cave where they
had provisionally deposited it. These were, Mary of
Magdala, Mary Cleophas, Salorae, Joanna, wife of
Eliouza, and others.*^ They carae, probably, each from
her own abode ; for if it is difficult to call in question
the tradition of the three synoptical Gospels, according
to which many women came to the tomb,'* it is cer
tain, on the other hand, that in the two most authentic
accounts" which we possess of the resurrection, Mary

58 THE APOSTLES.
of Magdala plays her part alone. In any case, she
had at this solemn raoment a part to play altogether
out of the common order of events. It is her that we
must follow step by step ; for she bore on that day
during one hour all the burden of the Christian con
science ; her witness decided the faith of the future.
We must remember that the cave, wherein the body
of Jesus was inclosed, had been recently hewn out of
the rock, and that it was situated in a garden hard by
the place of execution." For this latter reason only
had it been selected, seeing that it was late in the day,
and that they were unwilling to violate the Sabbath."
The first Gospel alone adds one circumstance, viz.
that the cave was the property of Joseph of Arimathea.
But, in general, the anecdotical circumstances added
by the first Gospel to the coraraon fund of tradition
are without value, above all when it treats of the last
days of the life of Jesusf"' The same Gospel mentions
another detail which, considering the silence of the
others, is destitute of probability ; viz. the fact of the
seals and of a guard detailed to the tomb.'* We must
also recollect that the mortuary vaults were low cham
bers hewn in the side of a sloping rock, on which was
contrived a vertical cutting. The door, usually down
wards, was closed by a very heavy stone, which fitted
into a rabbet." These chambers had no locks secured
with keys ; the weight of the stone was the sole safe
guard they possessed against robbers and profaners of
tombs ; thus were they arranged in such a raanner
that either mechanical power or the united effort of
several persons was necessary to remove the stone.
All the traditions are agreed on this point, that the

THE APOSTLES. 59
stone had been placed at the orifice of the vault on
the Friday evening.
But when Mary Magdala arrived on the Sunday
morning, the stone was not in its place. The vault was
open. The body was no longer there. The idea of the
resurrection was with her, as yet, but little developed.
That which occupied her soul was a tender regret, and
the desire to pay funeral honors to the corpse of her
divine friend. Her first feelings then were those of sur
prise and grief. The disappearance of this cherished
corpse had taken away from her the last joy on which
she had depended. She could never touch him again
with her hands. And what was he become ? . . .
The idea of a profanation presented itself to her, and she
revolted at it. Perhaps, at the same tirae, a ray of hope
beamed across her raind. Without losing a moment,
she runs to the house where Peter and John were re-
nnited.^" " They have taken away the body of our Master,"
she said, " and we know not where they have laid him."
The two disciples arise hastily and run with all their
might. John, the j'ounger, arrives first. He stoops
down to look into the interior. Mary was right. The
tomb was empty. The linen cloths which , had served
as his shrOud were lying apart in the vault. In his turn
Peter arrives. The two enter, exaraine the linen cloths,
no doiibt spotted with blood, and remark, in particular,
the napkin which had enveloped his head rolled by
itself in one corner of the cave.^' Peter and John re
turned to their homes overwhelmed with grief. If they
did not then pronounce the decisive words, " He is
risen I " we may affirm that such a consequence waa

60 THE APOSTLES.
their irrevocable conclusion, and that the creative dogma
of Christianity was already propounded.
Peter and John having departed from the garden,
Mary reraained alone at the edge of the cave. She
wept copiously ; one sole thought preoccupied her
mind : Where had they put the body ?
Her- woman's heart went no further from her desire
to clasp again in her arms the beloved corpse. Suddenly
she hears a light rustling behind her. There is a man
standing. At first she believes it to be the gardener.
" Oh ! " she says, " if thou hast borne him hence, tell
me where thou hast laid hira, that I may take him
away." For the only answer, she thinks that she hears
herself called by her name, " Mary ! " It was the voice
that had so often thrilled her before. It was the accent
of Jesus. " Oh, my raaster ! " she cries. She is about to
touch hira. A sort of instinctive movement throws her
at his feet to kiss them.^^
The light vision gives way and says to her, " Touch
me not." Little by little the shadow disappears.^
But the miracle of love is accomplished. That which
Cephas could not do, Mary has done ; she has been able
to draw life, sweet and penetrating words from the
empty tomb. There is now no raore talk of inferences
to be deduced, or of conjectures to be framed. Mary
has seen and heard. The resurrection has its first direct
witness. Frantic with love, intoxicated'with joy, Mary returned
to the city ; and to the first disciples whom she met,
she says, " I have seen Him, He has spoken to me." ^
Her greatly agitated mind, her broken and disconnected
accents of speech, caused her to be taken by sorae per-

THE APOSTLES. 61
sons for one demented.^* Peter and John, in their turn,
relate what they had seen ; other disciples go to the
tomb and see likewise.^ The fixed conviction of all
this first party was that Jesus had risen again. Many
doubts still existed ; but the assurance of Mary, of
Peter, and of John, imposed upon the others. At a
later date, thiswas called "the vision of Peter."^
Paul, in particular, does not speak of the vision of
Mary, and attributes all the honor of the first apparition
to Peter. But this expression is very indefinite. Peter
only saw the empty cave, and the linen cloth and the
napkin. Only Mary loved enough to pass the bounds
of nature and revive the shade of the perfect master.
In these kinds of marvellous crises, to see after the
others is nothing ; all the merit is in seeing for the first
time, for the others afterwards model their visions on
the received tj'pe. It is the peculiarity of fine organi
zations to conceive the image promptly, justly, and
with a sort of intimate sense of the end. The glory of
the resurrection belongs, then, to Mary of Magdala.
After Jesus, it is Mary who has done raost for the
foundation of Christianity. The shadow created by the
delicate sensibility of Magdalene wanders still on the
earth. Queen and patroness of idealists, Magdalene
knew better than any one how to assert her dream, and
impose on every one the vision of her passionate soul.
Her great womanly affirmation : " He has risen," has
been the basis of the faith of huraanity. Away, irapo
tent reason ! Apply no cold analysis to this chef-
d^muvre of idealism and of love. If wisdom refuses to
console this poor human race, betrayed by fate, let folly
attempt the enterprise. Where is the sage who has

62 THE APOSTLES.
given to th^ world as much joy as the possessed Mary
of Magdala?
The other women, meanwhile, who had been to the
tomb, spread abroad different reports.^' They had not
seen Jesus ;*" but they told of a man clothed in white,
whom they had seen in the cave, and who had said
to thera : " He is no longer here, return into Galilee :
He will go before you, there shall ye see Him." **
Perhaps it was the white linen clothes which had
given rise to this hallucination. Perhaps, again, they
saw nothing at all, and only began to speak of their
vision when Mary of Magdala had related hers.
According to one of the most authentic texts,*^ indeed,
they maintained silence for some time, and their silence
was subsequently attributed to terror. However that
may be, these stories continued hourly to increase, as
well as to undergo strange transformations. The man
in white becaine an angel of God ; it was told how
that his clothing was glistening like the snow, and his
figure like lightning. Others spoke of two angels, of
whora one appeared at the head and the other at the
foot' of the tomb.** In the evening^ it is possible that
many persons believed already that the women had
seen the angel descend from heaven, take away the
stone, and Jesus then shoot forth with a crash.** They
themselves, no doubt, varied in their narratives ; *' suf
fering from the effect of the imagination of others, as
always happens to people of the lower orders, they
scrupled not to introduce all sorts of embellishments,
and were thus participators in the creation of the legend
which took its rise amongst them and concerning them.
The day was stormy and decisive. The little com-

THE APOSTLES. 63
pany was sadly dispersed. Some of them had already
departed for Galilee, others hid themselves from fear.**
The deplorable scene of the Friday, tbe heart-rending
spectacle which they had before their eyes when they
saw Him of whora they had hoped such great things
expire upon the gibbet, without His Father having
corae to deliver him, had, moreover, shocked the faith
of many. The news spread by the women and by
Peter had been received by va&rtj of them with scarce
dissembled incredulity.*' The different stories contra
dicted one another ; the woraen went hither and thi
ther with strange and confiicting stories, each surpass
ing the other. The , most opposite ideas were pro
pounded. Some of them still deplored the sad event
of the previous evening ; others were already rejoicing :
all were disposed to collect the most extraordinary
tales. Meanwhile the mistrust which the excitement
of Mary of Magdala caused,** the want of authority on
the part of the women, together with the incoherence
of their several stories, produced great doubts. They
were on the watch for new visions, which could not
fail to appear. The state of the sect was entirely
favorable to the propagation of strange rumors. If
the entire little Church had been assembled, the legen
dary creation would have been impossible ; those who
knew the secret of the disappearance of the body
would probably have protested against the error. But in
the confusion which prevailed amongst thera, an opportu
nity was afforded for the most fruitful misunderstandings.
It is the characteristic of those states of mind in
which ecstasy and apparitions are comraonly generated,
to be contagious.** The history of all the great religi-

64 THE APOSTLES.
ous crises proves that these kinds of visions are catch
ing; in an assembly of persons entertaining the same
beliefs, it is enough for one member of the society to
affirm that he sees or hears something supernatural,
and the others will also see and hear it. Amongst the
persecuted Protestants, a report was spread that angels
had been heard chanting psalms in the ruins of a
recently destroyed teraple ; the whole corapany went
to the place and heard the sarae psalm. In cases of
this kind, the mos't excited are those who make the law
and who regulate the comraon atmospheric heat. The
exaltation of individuals is transmitted to all the mem
bers ; no one will be behind or confess that he is less
favored than the others. Those who see nothing are
carried away by exciteraent, and come to imagine either
that they are not so clear-sighted as others, or that they
do not give a just account of their feelings; in every
case they are careful not to avow their distrust : they
would be disturbers of the coraraon joy, they would bo
causing sadness to the others, and would be theraselves
acting a disagreeable part. When, then, an apparition
is brought forward in such meetings as these, the usual
result is, that all either see it or accept it. We must
remember, moreo ver, what degree of intellectual cul
ture was possessed by the disciples of Jesus. What we
call a weak head is well accompanied by perfect good
ness of heart. The disciples believed in phantoms;*'
they imagined that they were surrounded by miracles ;
they took no part whatever in the positive science of
the time. This science fiourished amongst a few hun
dreds of raen who were only to be found in the coun
tries to which the civilization of the Greeks had pene-

THE APOSTLES. 65
trated. But the common people, in all countries, knew
very little about it. In this respect Palestine was one
of the most backward countries ; the Galileans were
the most ignorant of the inhabitants of Palestine, and the
disciples of Jesus might be counted amongst the num
ber of the most simple people of Galilee. It was to this
very simplicity that they owed their heavenly election.
Among such a people, belief in the raarvellous dis
covered the most extraordinary channels of propaga
tion. The idea of the resurrection of Jesus being once
circulated, numerous visions would be the result.
And so, indeed, it came to pass.
Even during the course of that very Sunday, at an
advanced period of the forenoon, when the stories of
the woraan had already been freely circulated, two
disciples, one of whora was called Cleopatras or Cleo-
pas, set out on a short journey to a village called Em
maus,*^ situated a short distance frora Jerusalem.**
They 'were conversing together respecting the recent
events, and were full of sadness. On the road an un
known companion joined them and inquired the cause
of their deep grief: " Art thou, then, the only stranger
at Jerusalem," they said to hira, " that thou knowest not
what things are corae to pass there ? Hast thou not
heard of Jesus of Nazareth, which was a prophet
mighty in deed and word before God and all the peo
ple ? Knowest thou not how that the chief priests and
rulers have condemned him to death and crucified
him ? We trusted that it had been he which should
have redeemed Israel ; and besides all this, to-day is
the third day since these things were done — ^yea, and
certain women, also, of our company made us aston-

66 THE APOSTLES.
ished who were early at the sepulchre ; and when they
found not his body, they came, saying that they had
also seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive.
And certain of them who were with us went to the
sepulchre, and found it even so as the women had
said ; but him they saw not." The stranger was a pious
man, well versed in the Scriptures, quoting Moses and
the prophets. These three good people became fast
friends. As they came near to Emmaus, the stranger
proposing to continue his journey through the village,
the disciples entreated him to tarry with them and par
take of their evening meal. The day was fast drawing
to a close ; the memories of the two disciples become more
vivid. This hour of the evening meal was that which
they remembered with the greatest pleasure and regret.
How often had they, at this very hour, seen their be
loved Master forget the weighty duties of the day in the
abandon of pleasant conversation, and, cheered by the
repast, speak to them of the fruit of the vine which He
should drink anew with them in the kingdom of His
Father. The gesture which He made while breaking the
bread and offering it to them, according to the custom of
the head of the house among the Jews, was deeply en
graven on their memory. Giving way to a sort of plea
surable Badness, they forget the stranger; it is Jesus
whora they see holding the bread, and then breaking it
and offering it to them. These remembrances took such
a hold on them, that they scarcely perceived that their
companion, anxious to continue his journey, had left
them. And when they had recovered from their
reverie : " Did we not perceive," they said, " something
strange ? Do you not remeraber how our heart burned

THB APOSTLES. 67
within us, while he talked with us by the way ? " " And
the prophecies which he cited proved clearly that Mes
siah must suffer before entering into his glory. Did
you- not recognise him at the breaking of the bread ? "
"Yes! up to that time our eyes were closed; they
were opened when he vanished." The conviction of
the two disciples was that they had seen Jesus. Thej''
returned with all haste to Jerusalem. The principal
group of the disciples were exactly at that time assem
bled around Peter.**
Night had completely set in. Each one communi
cated his impressions and the news which he had heard.
The general belief already willed that Jesus had arisen.
On the entrance of the two disciples, they were imme
diately inforraed of what they called " the vision of
Peter." *' They, on their side, related what had- hap
pened to thera on the road to Emraaus, and how they
had recognised him by the breaking of bread. The
imagination of all became vividly excited. The doors
were closed, for they were afraid of the Jews. Orien
tal towns are hushed after sunset. The silence accord
ingly within the house was frequently profound; all
the little noises which were accidentally raade were
interpreted in the sense of the universal expectation.
Ordinarily, expectation is the father of its object.**
During a moment of silence, some slight breath passed
over the face of the assembly. At these decisive
periods of time, a current of air, a creaking window, or
a chance murmur, are sufficient to fix the belief of peo
ples for ages. At the same time that the breath was
perceived they fancied that they heard sounds. Some.
of thera said that they had discerned the word scha-

68 THE APOSTLES.
lorn, "happiness" or "peace." This was the ordinary
salutation of Jesus and the word by which He signified
His presence. No possibility of doubt ; Jesus is present ;
He is in the assembly. That is His cherished voice ;
each one recognises it.*' This idea was all the more
easily entertained because Jesus had said that when
ever they were assembled in His name. He would be
in the midst of them. It was, then, an acknowledged
fact that Jesus had appeared before His assembled dis
ciples, on the night of Sunday. Some pretended to
have observed on His hands and His feet the mark of
the nails, and on His side the mark of the spear which
pierced Him. According to a widely spread tradition,
it was the sarae night as that on which He breathed
upon His disciples the Holy Spirit.** John xx. 22-23,
who is echoed by Luke xxiv. 49. The idea, at least,
that His breath had passed over thera on their reassem
bling was generally adraitted. Such were the inci
dents of the day whicii has decided the lot of the
human race. The opinion that Jesus had arisen was
thus irrevocably propounded. The sect which was
thought to have been extinguished by the death of the
Master, was, from henceforth, assured of a wondrous
future. And yet some doubts were still existing.*'
The apostle Thomas, who was not present at the meet
ing of Sunday evening, confessed that he envied thoso
who had seen the mark of the spear and of the nails.
We read that, eight days afterwards, he was satisfied.*
But a little stain, and as itjvere a mild reproach, have
always rested upon him in consequence. By an in
stinctive view of unerring accuracy, man understands
that the ideal is not to be touched with hands, and that

THE APOSTLES. 69
there is no occasion for its submission to the control of
experience. JS^oli me tangere is the motto of all grand
affection. The sense of touch leaves no room for faith ;
the eye, a purer and more noble organ than the hand —
even the eye which nothing soils, and by which no
thing is soiled, became very soon a superfluous witness.
A singular sensation began to appear; all hesitation
was construed into a want of loyalty and love ; each
was ashamed to be behindhand ; the desire to behold
was interdicted. The dictum, " Blessed are they who
have not seen and yet haye believed," " became the
word of salutation. It was thought to be raore gene
rous to believe without proof. The true-hearted friends
would rather not have had the vision.'^ Just as,, in
later times, St. Louis refused to be a witness to an
eucharistic rairacle that he raight not detract frora
the raerit of faith, Henceforth this credulity became
a terrible emulation, and, as it were, a sort of out-bid
ding one another. The reward consisting in believ
ing without having seen, faith at any price, gratuitous
faith — faith approaching to madness — ^was exalted as if
it were the chief gift of the soul. The credo quia
aisurdurn is established ; the law of Christian dogmas
will be an unwonted progression which no impossibility
shall be able to arrest. The most cherished dogmas as
regards piety, those to which it will attach itself with
the most resolute frenzy, will be the most repugnant to
reason, in consequence of that touching idea that the
moral worth of faith, increases in proportion to the dif-
flculty of believing, and because men are not called on
to prove any love when they admit one which is evident.
These first davs were like' a period of intense fever,

70 THE APOSTLES.
when the faithful, mutually inebriated, and imposing
upon each other by their mutual conceits, passed their
days in constant exciteraent, and were lifted up with
the most exalted notions. The visions multiplied with
out ceasing. Their evening assemblies were the usual
periods for their production.'* When the doors were
closed and all were possessed with their besetting idea,
the first who fancied that he heard the sweet word
schalom, " salutation," or " peace," gave the signal. All
then listened, and very soon heard the same thing.
Then it was that there was great joy among these sim
ple souls when they knew that the Master was in the
midst of them. Each one tasted of the sweetness of
this thought, and believed himself to be favored with
some inward colloquy. Other visions were noised
abroad of a different, description, and recalled that of
the travellers of Emraaus. At raeal-tirae they saw
Jesus appear, take the bread, bless it and break it, and
offer it to the one whom He honored with a vision of
Himself.'* In a few days a complete cycle of stories,
widely differing in theii* details, but inspired by the sarae
spirit of love and absolute faith, was formed and disse
minated. It is the greatest of errors to suppose that
legendary lore requires much time to mature ; some
times a legend is the product of a single day. The
Sunday evening [16 of Nisan, 5 April] had not passed
before the legend of Jesus was held as a reality. Eight
days afterwards, the character of the resuscitated life
which had been conceived for him, was stayed in its
progress, at least as regards its essential characteristics.

CHAPTEE IL
DEPAETITRE OF THE DISCIPLES FEOM JEEUSALEM.  SECOND
GALILEAN LIFE OF JESUS.
The most earnest desire of those who have lost a dear
friend is to revisit the places where they have lived
with hira. It was no doubt this feeling which, sorae
days after the events of Easter, induced the disciples, to
return to Galilee. From the moment of the arrest of
Jesus, and immediately after His death, it is probable
that many of His disciples had already taken their
departure for the northern provinces. At the period
of the resurrection, a report was spread that it was in
Galilee that they would see him again. Some of the
women who had been at the sepulchre returned with
the statement that the angel had told them that Jesus
had already preceded them into Galilee.' Others said
that it was Jesus himself who had told them to meet
him there.^ Sometimes they even fancied that they
remembered how that He had told them so ill his life
time.* It is, however, certain, that at the end of some
days, perhaps after they had corapleted the solemnities
of the Paschal feast, the disciples believed that they had
received a commandraent to return to their own country,
and they returned accordingly.* Perhaps the visions
began to diminish in frequency at Jerusalem. A sort
of homesickness possessed them. The short appari
tions of Jesus were not sufficient to compensate for the

72 THE APOSTLES
enormous void left to them by His absence. They fan
cied that they were actuated by a melancholy affection
for the lake and the beautiful mountains where they
had tasted of the kingdom of God.' The women, espe
cially, desired at all hazards to return to the country
where they had enjoyed so much happiness. It must
be observed that the order for leaving Jerusalem came
especially from them.* This odious city weighed down
their spirits ; they longed to revisit the country where
thev had possessed Him whom they so well loved,
assured aforehand in their own minds that they would
need him there. The greater part of the disciples then
departed full of joy and hope, perhaps in company with
the caravan which was conducting homewards the pil
grims who had attended the Paschal feast. That which
they hoped to find in Galilee was not only fleet
ing visions, but Jesus Himself to continue with them as
He had done previous to His death. An intense expec
tation filled their minds. Was He about to restore the
kingdom of Israel, to found in definite form the king
dom of God, and, as it has been said, "reveal His jus
tice ? " ' All this is possible. Already did they recall
to their rainds the smiling landscapes where they had
been happy with Him. Many thought that He- had
told them that He would meet them on a mountain,*
probably that one to which so many sweet remem
brances of Him were attached. Never certainly was any
more cheerful journey undertaken. They were on tho
eve of realizing all their dreams of happiness. They
were going to see Him again.
And indeed they did see him. Hardly restored to
their peaceable fantasies, they believed themselves to

THE APOSTLES. 73
be placed in the raidst of the Gospel dispensation. It
was about the end of the raonth of April. The
ground was covered with red aneraones, which are
probably the " flowers of the field," frora which, Jesus
loved to draw his sirailes. At every step they recol
lected His words, attached, as it were, to the thousand
events of the way. See this tree, this flower, this seed,
from which he took up his parable ! here is the little
hill on which he delivered his most touching discours
es ; here is the little ship in which he taught. It was
all like a beautiful dream commenced anew, like an
illusion , which had vanished, and then reappeared.
The enchantment seemed to spring up again. The
sweet " kingdom of God " to be established in Gali
lee, took possession of their hearts. This pellucid air,
those mornings spent on the bank of the lake or on the
mountain, those nights passed on the lake while guard
ing their nets, — all these returned to their minds in dis
tinct visions. They saw hira in every place in which
they had lived with hira. Doubtless it was not always
the joy of possession. Soraetiraes the lake appeared to
them to be very solitary. But a great love is contented
with small raatters. If all of us, while we are alive,
could stealthily once a year calculate on a raoraent
long enough to behold those loved ones whora we have
lost, and to exchange but two words with thera, death
would be no raore death.
Such was the state of raind of this faithful company
in this short period when Christianity seemed to return
for a moment to its cradle to bid Him au eternal adieu.
The principal disciples, Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, the
sons of Zebedee, returned to the shore of the lake, and
4

74 THE APOSTLES.
henceforth took up their abode together;' they had taken
up their former trade of fishers at Bethsaida, or at Ca
pernaum. The women of Galilee were, doubtless, with
thera. More than the others, they had urged the return
to Galilee ; for with them it was a matter of heartfelt
love. This was their last act in the foundation of
Christianity. Frora this moment we see no more of
them. Faithful to their affection, they would not quit
the country where they had tasted of so great enjoy
ment.'* Soon they were forgotten, and as Galilean
Christianity had scarcely any posterity, the remem
brance of them was corapletely lost in certain ramifi
cations of the tradition. These touching demoniacs,
these converted sinners, these real founders of Chris
tianity, Mary of Magdala, Mary Cleophas, Joanna, Su
sanna, all passed into the condition of forsaken saints.
St. Paul knows nothing about thera." The faith which
they had created alraost threw thera into oblivion. We
must corae down to the middle ages before justice is ren
dered to them ; and when one of them, Mary Magdalene,
again assuraes her lofty position in the Christian heaven.
The visions on the lake shore appear- to have been
frequent enough. On these very waters where they
had touched God, how was it that the disciples had not
again beheld their Divine friend ? The raost simple
circumstances restored Jf im to them. On one occasion
they had toiled all the night without having taken a
single fish ; all on a sudden the nets are filled : this
was a rairacle. It seemed to them that some one had
told them from the shore, " Cast your nets to the right."
Peter and John looked at each other : " It is the Lord,"
said John. Peter, who was naked, hastily covered

THB APOSTLES. 75
himself with his tunic and juraped into the. sea, that he
might go and rejoin the invisible counsellor.'^ At
other times, Jesus came to share their siraple repasts.
One day, when they had done fishing, they were sur
prised to find the coals lighted, with a fish upon the
fire, and sorae bread beside it. A lively recollection
of their feasts in times past took possession of their
minds, for the bread and the lish had always been
essential characteristics of them. Jesus was in the
habit of offering portions to them. They were per
suaded after their meal that Jesus was seated at their
side, and had presented them with these victuals, which
had become already, in their view, eucharistic and holy.'*
It was John and Peter, more than all the others, who
had been favored with these intimate conversations with
the well-beloved phantom. One day Peter, dreaming
perhaps (But why do I say this ? Was not their life on
these shores a perpetual dreara ?), thought that he heard
Jesus ask him, " Lovest thou me ?" The question was
thrice repeated. Peter, altogether under the influence of
tender and sad feelings, imagined that he replied, " Oh !
yea, Lord 1 Thou knowest that I love thee ;" and on
each occasion the apparition said, " Feed my sheep.'"* On
another occasion Peter confided to Johu a wondrous
dream. He had dreamt that he was walking with the
Master. John was coming up a^few steps behind. Jesus
spoke to him in very obscure language, which appeared
to tell him of a prison or a violent death, and repeated
to him at different times, "Follow me." Then Peter,
pointing to John, who was following, with his finger,
asked, " Lord, and this man ? " Jesus said, " If I wish
that this man remain until I come, what is that to thee?

76 THE APOSTLES.
Follow thou me." After the martyrdom of Peter, John
recollected this dream, and saw in it a prediction of the
kind of death by which his friend suffered. He told it
to his disciples ; and they on their part fancied that
they |iad discovered an assurance that their raaster would
not die before the final advent of Jesus." These grand
and melancholy dreams, these unceasing conversations
interrupted and again commenced with the beloved de
parted One, occupied the days and the months. The
sympathy of Galilee in behalf of the prophet whom the
Jerusalemites had put to death, was renewed. More
than five hundred persons were already devoted to
the memory of Jesus.'* In the absence of the lost Mas
ter, they obeyed the chief of the disciples, and above
all, Peter. One day, when following their spiritual
chiefs, the Galileans had climbed up one of the moun
tains to which Jesus had often led them, and they fancied
that they saw him again. The air on these mountain-
tops is fall of strange mirages. The same illusion which
had previously taken place in behalf of the more inti
mate of the disciples, was produced again." The whole
assembly imagined that they saw the Divine spectre dis
played- in the clouds ; they all fell* on their faces and
worshipped.'* The feeling which the clear horizon of
these mountains inspires is the idea of the immensity of
the world and the desire of conquering it. On one of
these neighboring points, Satan, pointing out with his
hand to Jesus the kingdoms of the earth, and all the
glory of them, it is said proposed to give them to him
if he would fall down and worship him. On this occa
sion, it was Jesus who, from the top of these sacred
summits, pointed out to his disciples the whole world,

THE APOSTLES. * 77
and assured them of the future. They "came down from
the mountain persuaded that the Son of God had com
manded them to convert the whole human race, and
had promised to be with them even to the end of the
world. A strange ardor, a divine fire, took possession
of them when they returned from these conversations.
They looked upon themselves as .the missionaries of the
world, capable of effecting prodigious deeds. St. Paul
saw many of those who were present at this extraordi
nary scene. At the expiration of twenty -five years, the
impression on their minds was still as strong and as
vivid as it was on the first day."
Nearly a year passed over during which they lived
this charmed life, suspended, ^s it were, between
heaven and eartli.^" The charm, far frora diminishing,
increased. It is the peculiarity of grand and holy en
terprises, that they always becorae grander and more
pure of themselves. The feeling towards a beloved
one whom we have lost is always more intense than on
the day following his death. The raore distant it is,
the more i' tense does this feeli'ng become. The sorrow
whii h at first was part of it, and in a certain sense
diminished it, is changed into a serene piety. The
image of the departed one is transfigured, idealized, and
becomes the soul of life, the principle of every action,
the source of every joy, the oracle which we consult,
the consolation which we seek in times of despondency.
Death is a necessary condition of every apotheosis.
Jesus, so beloved during His life, was even more so
after His last breath ; or rather His last breath became
the commencement of His actual life in the bosom of
His Church. He became the intimate friend, the con-

78 THE APOSTLES.
fidant, the travelling companion, the one who, at the
corner of the road, joins you and follows you, sits
down to table with you, and reveals Himself as He
vanishes out of your sight.^' The absolute want of
scientific exactitude in the minds of these new believ
ers, was the reason why no question was ever pro
pounded as to the nature of His existence.. They re
presented Hira as impassible, endowed with a subtle
body, passing through open windows, sometimes visi
ble, soraetiraes invisible, but always alive. Soraetimes
they thought that His body was not a raaterial body ;
that it was a pure shadow or apparition.^^ At other
tiraes they accorded to Him a material body with flesh
and bones ; with an unaffected minuteness, and as if
the hallucination had wished to be on its guard
against itself, they represented Him as drinking and
eating ; nay even as feeling.''* Their ideas on this
point were as vague and uncertain as the waves of the
sea. With difficulty have we thus far dreamed, in order
to propose a trifling question, but one which admits
not of easy solution. Whilst Jesus rose again in this
real manner, that is to say in the hearts of those who
loved Him ; while the immovable conviction of the
apostles was being formed and the faith of the world
being prepared — in what place did the worms consume
the lifeless corpse which, on the Saturday evening, had
been deposited in the sepulchre ? This detail will be
always steadily ignored ; for, naturally, the Christian
traditions can give us no information on the subject.
It is the spirit which quickeneth ; the flesh is nothing."
The resurrection was the triumph of the idea concern-

THB APOSTLES. 79
ing its reality. The idea once entered upon its immor
tality, what need of discussion about the body ?
About the year 80 or 85, when the actual text of the
flrst Gospel received its last additions, the Jews had
already formed a fixed opinion in regard to it.^' Ac
cording to them, the disciples carae by night and stole
away the body. The consciences of the Christians were
alarraed at this report, and, in order to put an end to
such an objection at once, they invented the circum
stances of the guard of soldiers and the seal affixed to
the sepulchre.^* This circumstance, related only in the
first Gospel, and mixed up with legends of very doubt
ful authority,^' is ih no respect, admissible.^ But the ex
planation of the Jews, although unanswerable, is far
from altogether satisfactory. We can scarcely admit
that those who so bravely believed that Jesus had risen
again, were the very ones who had carried off the body.
However slight the accuracy with which these men re
fiected, we can hardly imagine so strange an illusion.
It must be remembered that the little Church was at
this moment completely dispersed. There was no organ
ization, no centralization, and no open regularity of pro
ceeding. The contradictory stories which have reached
us respecting the incidents of the Sunday morning,
prove that the reports were spread through different
channels, and that there was no particular care- on their
part to harmonize them. It is possible that the body
was taken away by some of. the disciples, and by them
carried into Galilee. The others, remaining at Jerusalem,
would not have been cognizant of the fact. On the other
hand, the disciples who carried the body into Galilee,^
could not have, as yet, become acquainted with the sto-

go THB APOSTLES.
ries which were invented at Jerusalem, so that the belief
in the resurrection would have been propounded in
their absence, and would have surprised them accord
ingly. They could not have protested ; and had they
done so, nothing would have been disarranged. When
a question of miracles is concerned, a tardy correction
is not the way to a denial.** Never did a material diffi
culty prevent the sentimental developraent and crea
tion of the desired fictions.*' In the history ofthe recent
miracle bf Salette, the imposture has been clearly de
monstrated ;*^ this does not damage the prosperity of the
temple, nor the increase of belief in it. It is also per
missible to suppose that the disappearance of the body
was the work of the Jews. Perhaps they thought that
in this way they would prevent the scenes of tumult
which might be enacted over the corpse of a raan so
popular as Jesus. Perhaps they wished to prevent any
noisy funeral ceremonies, or the erection of a monument
to this just man. Lastly, who knows that the disap
pearance of the body was not effected by the proprietor
of the garden or by the gardener ?** This proprietor, as
it would seem from such evidence as we possess,** was
a stranger to the sect. They chose his cave because it
was the nearest to Golgotha, and because they were
pressed for time.** Perhaps he was dissatisfied with
this raode of taking possession ofhis property, and caused
the corpse to be removed. Of a truth, the details
related by the fourth Gospel of the linen cloths left in
the tomb, and of the napkin folded away carefully by
itself in a corner,** scarcely agree with such a hypo
thesis as this. This last circumstance would lead to
the conclusion that a female hand had slipped in there.*' -

THE APOSTLES. • 81
Hefive stories of the visit of the women to the tomb
are so confused and so embarrassed, that we may well
be permitted to suppose that they conceal some mis
conception. The female conscience, when under the
influence of passionate love, is capable of the most
extravagant illusions. Often is it the abettor of its own
dreams. * To introduce these kinds of incidents regarded
as miraculous, deliberately deceives no one ; but all the
world, without thinking of it, is induced to connive at
them. Mary of Magdala had been, according to the
parlance of the age, " possessed with seven devils."*^
In all this we must consider the want of precision of
eastern women, from their absolute defect of education
and the particularly slight knowledge of their sincerity.
The conviction of being exalted, renders any return
to oneself impossible. When, one sees the heaven
everywhere, one is induced at times io put oneself in
the place of heaven.
Let us draw a veil over these mysteries. In the cir
curastances of a religious crisis, everything being con
sidered as divine, the very grandest effects can be
produced from the very meanest causes. If we were
witnesses of the strange facts which lie at the bottora
of all works of faith, we should see therein circura
stances which seera to us quite out of proportion to the
importance of the results, and others at which we could
but smile. Our old cathedrals are counted amongst
the raost beautiful things of the world ; one can scarcely
enter them without being in some sort inebriated with
the infinite. But these splendid marvels are almost
always the blossoming of some little deceit. And
t\^hat does it raatter definitively? The result alone
4*

82 THE APOSTLES.
counts in such a matter. Faith purifies all. The ma
terial incident which has produced the belief in the
resurrection was not the veritable cause of the resurrec
tion. It was love that made Jesus rise again ; and this
love was so powerful that a little risk was sufficient to
build up the universal faith. If Jesus had been less
loved,' if the belief of the resurrection had had less
reason for its establishment, these sorts of risks would
have been incurred in vain ; nothing would have come
of it. . A grain of sand causes the fall of a mountain,
when the moment for the fall of the mountain has ar
rived. The grandest results are produced altogether
from causes very grand and very insignificant. The
grand results alone are real ; the little ones only serve
to hasten the production of an effect which has been a
long time in a state of preparation.

CHAPTEE HI.
EETUEN OF THE APOSTLES TO JEEUSALEM.  END OF THE
PEEIOD OF APPAEITIONS.
The apparitions, in the meanwhile, as is usually the
case in all movements of too credulous enthusiasm,
began to diminish. Popular chimeras are nearly allied
to contagious diseases ; quickly do , they become stale
and change their shape. The activity of these ardent
souls was already turned in another direction. Tliat
wKich they believed they had heard from the lips
of their beloved and resuscitated friend, was the com
mand to go before him to preach and to convert the
world. But where should they commence ? Natu
rally at Jerusalem.' The return to Jerusalem was
a,ccordingly resolved upon by those who at this time
directed the movements of the sect. As these journeys
were ordinarily made in caravanseries at the periods
of the feasts, we may suppose, with sufficient proba
bility, that the return of which we are treating, took
place at the feast of Tabernacles at the end of the year
thirty-three or at the Paschal feast of the yo^r thirty-
four. Galilee was, accordingly, abandoned by Chris
tianity, and abandoned for all time. The little church
which remained there, doubtless, still existed ; but we
intend to speak no more of it. It was probably
crushed, like all the rest, by the frightful catastrophe
which overwhelmed the country during the war of

84 THE APOSTLES.
Vespasian ; the residue of the dispersed society took
refuge, from that tirae, in Jerusalera. After the war,
it was not Christianity which was replanted in Galilee ;
it was Judaisra. In the second, third, and fourth cen
turies, Galilee was altogether a Jewish country, the
centre of Judaisra, the country of the Talraud.^ Thus
Galilee was considered as of no account whatsoever in
the history of Christianity ; but this was the sacred
tirae of the church, par excellence ; it conferred on the
new religion its enduring qualities, its poetry, its pene
trating charms. '¦'¦ TJie' Gospel^'' according to the theory
of the synoptics, was a Galilean work. But we shall
endeavor to show, further on, that " The Oospel," thus
understood, has been the principal cause of the success
of Christianity, and continues to be the surest guarantee
of its future history.
It is probable that a portion of the little school which
surrounded Jesus during his last days had reraained at
Jerusalera at the tirae of their separation. The belief in
the resurrection was already established. This belief
becarae accordingly developed from two points of view,
each having a perceptibly different aspect^ and such,
doubtless^ is the reason for the corapletely different vari
ations which are so reraarkable in the stories of the ap
paritions. Two traditions — one Galilean, the other Jeru-
saleraitjshs— were intended ; according to the former,
all the apparitions (except those of the earliest period)
had occurred in Galilee ; according to the latter, they
had all taken place at Jerusalem.* The agreement of the
two portions of the little church respecting the funda
raental dogma, only served, as was natural, to confirni
the comraon belief. They were united by the bonds

THE APOSTLES. 85
of the same faith ; again and again they said, " He is
risen ! " Perhaps the joy and enthusiasra which were
the consequence of this harmony produced for thern
certain other visions. It is at about this period that we
can place the " vision of James" mentioned by St. Paul.*
James was the brother, or at least the kinsman, of Jesus.
It is not clear that he accompanied Jesus during his
last sojourn at Jerusalem, but he came there, probably,
with the apostles, when they departed frora Galilee.
All the chief apostles had had their vision ; it was hard
that this "brother of the Lord" should not also have
had his. It would appear that this vision was eucha
ristic — that is to say, one in which Jesus appeared
taking and breaking the bread.' Later, those raem
bers of the Christian family who attached themselves
to James, and who are called the Hebrews, referred
that vision to the very day of the resurrection, and pre
tended that it had been the' first of all.*
It is, indeed, very r'emarkable that the faraily of Je
sus, certain members of which during his life had been
unbelieving and opposed to his mission,' should now have
become members of the Church and hold a position of
eminence in it. We are compelled to suppose that the
reconciliation took place during the sojourn of the apos
tles in Galilee. The renown -with which the name
of their kinsman had suddenly become invested —
these five hundred persons who believed in him and
were assured that they had seen him resuscitated — might
have made an impression on their minds.* Since the
definitive establishment of the apostles at Jerusalem, we
see with them Mary, the mother of Jesus, and the breth
ren of Jesus.' As far as Mary is concerned, it appears

86 THE APOSTLES.
that John, in the belief that he was thus obeying a re
commendation of his Master, had adopted her and taken
her into his own house.'* He perhaps took her to Jeru
salem. This woraan, whose history and personal cha
racteristics had been veiled in profound obscurity, be
came henceforth of great importance. The saying which
the Evangelist puts into the mouth of some unknown
woman : " Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the
paps which thOu hast sucked I " began to be verified. It
is probable that Mary did not survive her son many
years." In respect to the brothers of Jesus, the question is
more obscure. Jesus had brothers and sisters.'^ It
seems probable, nevertheless, that in the class of persons
who were termed " brothers of the Lord," were compre
hended kinsmen of the second degree. It is only in
connexion with Jaraes that the inquiry possesses any
consequence. Was this James the Just, or " brother of
the Lord," whom we are about to regard as playing a
grand part during the first thirty years of Christianity —
was he James the son of Alphaeus, who appears to have
been a cousin-german of Jesus, or was he a real brother
of Jesus ? The data, in this respect, are altogether un
certain and contradictory. What we know of this James
gives us an idea of a character so far removed from that
of Jesus that one can hardly believe that two men so
different could be born of the same mother. If Jesus is
the true founder of Christianity, James was its most
dangerous enemy ; he almost ruined it through his narrow
mind. Later, it was certainly believed that .James the
Just was a real brother of Jesus.'* But perhaps some
confusion has always surrounded this subject. However

THE APOSTLES. - 87
that may be, henceforth the apostles only separated to
undertake temporary journeys. Jerusalem became their
centre,'* they seem to be afraid to disperse, and certain
traits appear to manifest amongst them a deterraination
to prevent a return into Galilee, which would have dis
solved their little .society. . They expected an express
order from Jesus, forbidding them to quit Jerusalem, at
least until the grand manifestation which awaited them."
The apparitions became more and more infrequent.
They spoke of them far less often, and they began to
think that they should no more see the Master until his
solemn return in the clouds. Their imaginations were
forcibly impressed by a promise which they supposed
that Jesus had made. During His lifetime, they said
Jesus had frequently spoken of the Holy Spirit, con
ceived as a personification of divine wisdom.'* He had
proraised His disciples that this Spirit should be their
strength in the battles which they would have to fight,
their inspiration in difficulties, their advocate if they
were called upon to speak in public. When these vis
ions became rare, they relied on this Spirit, viewed as a
Comforter, as another self whom Jesus would doubtless
send to his friends. Sometimes they fancied that Jesus,
displaying himself suddenly in the midst of his assem
bled disciples, had breathed upon them from His own
mouth a current of vivifying air." On other occasions,
the disappearance of Jesus was regarded as the condition
of the coming of the Spirit.'* They thought that in
these apparitions he had proraised the descent of this
Spirit.'^ Many set up an intiraate connexion, between
this descent and the restoration ofthe kingdom of Israel.^*
All the activity of imagination which the sect had dis-

88 THE APOSTLES.
played in the creation of the legend of Jesus resusci-
tatedj it now began to apply to the creation of a similar
pious belief respecting the descent of the Spirit and His
marvellous gifts.
It seems, meanwhile, that a grand apparition of Jesus
had again taken place at Bethany, or on the Mount of
Olives.^' Certain traditions referred to that vision the
final recommendations, the reiterated promise of the
sending of the Holy Spirit, and the act by which He in
vested His disciples with power to remit sins.^ The
characteristic features of these apparitions became more
and more vague; one was confounded with another,
and the result was, that they ceased to think much
about thern.^* It was a received fact that Jesus was alive,
that he had manifested himself by a number of appari
tions sufficient to prove His existence, and that he would
continue still to raanifest Himself in partial visions, until
the grand final revelation when everything would be
consumed.^' Thus St. Paul represents the vision which
he saw on the route from Damascus as being of the same
order as those which have been related.^ At any rate,
it was admitted that in an ideal sense the Master was
with his disciples and would be with them even to the
end.^* In the early days, the apparitions were very
frequent; Jesus was imagined as dwelling upon the
earth constantly, and more or less fulfilling the functions
of an earthly life. When the visions became rare, they
inclined to ^another conception, representing Jesus as
having entered into His glory and seated at the right
hand of His Father.
"He is ascended into heaven," they said.
This saying, though depending for the most part upon

THB APOSTLES. 89
the state of vague idea in which they indulged, or on a pro
cess of induction,^' was by many converted into a material
scene. It was desirable that at the close of the last vision
which was common to all the apostles, and when he deliv
ered to them His last commands, Jesus should be taken up
into heaven.^ Afterwards, the scene was developed,
and became a complete legend. They related that men
of heavenly appearance, surrounded by the most appal
ling brilliancy,^' appeared at the moment when a cloud
surrounded Him, and consoled His disciples by the assur
ance of His return in the clouds precisely similar to the
scene which they had just witnessed. The death of
Moses had been invested by the popular ideas with cir
cumstances of the same sort.** Perhaps also they
bethought them of the ascension of Elijah.*' A tradi
tion** placed the locality of this scene near Bethany, on
the summit of the Mount of Olives, a neighborhood al
ways very dear to the disciples, doubtless because Jesus
had dwelt there.
The legend relates that the disciples, after this marvellous
scene, returned to Jerusalem " with joy."** For our own'
part, it is with sorrow that we say a last farewell to Jesus.
To find Him again still living his shadowy life, has been
to us a great consolation. This second life of Jesus, a
pale image of the first, is yet full of charms for us.
Now all trace of Him is lost. Exalted on His cloud at
the right hand of His Father, He leaves us with men ;
and, heavens 1 how great is the fall ! The reign of poetry
is past ; Mary of Magdala retired to her hamlet-home,
has there buried her recollections of him. In conse
quence of this never-ending injustice which permits mau
to appropriate to himself alone the work in which woman

90 THE APOSTLES.
has taken an equal share, Cephas eclipses her and sends
her to oblivion. No more sermons on the Mount;
no more of the ¦ possessed ones cured ; no more cour
tezans convinced of sin ; no raore of those wonderful
fellow-laborers in the work of Eedemption, whom Jesus
had not repulsed. God truly has disappeared. The his
tory of the Church will henceforth be oftener the history
of treacheries than subservient to the idea of Jesus. But,
such as it is, this history is still a hymn to his glory.
The words and the image of the illustrious Nazarene
will stand out in the midst of infinite miseries, as a sub
lime ideal — we shall the better understand how grand He
was, when we shall see- how paltry were His disciples.

CHAPTEE IV.
DESCENT OF THE HOLT SPIKIT ; ECSTATICAL AND PEOPHETICAl
PHENOMENA.
Mean, narrow, ignorant, inexperienced they were, as
much as was possible for them to be. Their simplicity
of mind was extreme; their credulity had no bounds.
But they had one quality ; they loved their Master to
madness. The remerabrance of Jesus, the only moving
power of their life, had possessed them constantly and
entirely; and it was clear that they existed only on
account of Him who, during two or three years, had so
completely attached and seduced thera to Himself. The
safety of rainds of a secondary class, who are unable
to love God directly — that is, to discover the truth, create
the beautiful, and do what is right of themselves — ^is the
loving of some one in whora there shines forth a reflec
tion of the true, the beautiful, and the good. The
majority of mankind require a graduated worship.
The multitude of worshippers pant for a mediator
between themselves and God.
When an individual has succeeded in gathering
around his person, by a highly elevated moral tie, a
number of other individuals, and then dies, it invariably
happens that the survivors, who were perhaps up to
that time often divided amongst themselves by rivalries
and differences of opinion, become bound together -by
a mutual and fast friendship. A thousand cherished
images of the past, which they regret, form a coraraon

92 THE APOSTLES.
treasure to thera. One way of loving a dead person is
to love those with whora we have known him to asso
ciate. We court their society that we raay recall to
our rainds the times which are no more. A profound
saying of Jesus' is then discovered to be true to the
letter : " The dead one is. present in the raidst of those
who are united again by his raemory."
The affection which the disciples entertained for each.
other during the lifetime of Jesus, was thus increased
tenfold after his death. They formed a little society,
very retired, and they lived exclusively within them
selves. The number of them at Jerusalem was one
hundred and twenty.^ Their piety was active, and as
yet, completely restrained by the forras of Jewish reli
gionism. The temple was their chief place of worship.*
No doubt, they labored for their living ; but manual
labor occupied but a small place inthe Jewish economy.
Every Jew had a trade, and this trade implied no
lack of learning or of gentle breeding. With us in
our day, our raaterial needs are so difficult to satisfy?
that a raan who lives by manual labor is obliged to
work twelve or fifteen hours a day ; the raan of leisure
alone can apply hiraself to intellectual pursuits; the
acquisition of learning is a rare and expensvie matter.
But iu these old societies, of which the East of onr
own day furnishes some idea ; in those climates where
nature is so lavish for raan's wants, and exacts so little
in return — the life of a laborer left plenty of leisure.
A sort of raethod of coraraon instruction rendered
every raan well up in the prevailing ideas. Food and
raiment sufficed ; * a few hours of moderate labor were
enough to provide thera. The remaining portion of

THE APOSTLES. 93
the time was devoted to day-dreaming and to the
indulgence of passionate love. The latter had, in the
minds of these people, attained to a degree altogether
inconceivable by us. The Jews of that period' appear
to us as if possessed, each one obeying like a blind
machine the idea which had taken possession of him.
The prevailing idea in the Christian community at
the time of whicii we are treating, and when the appa
ritions had ceased, was the coraing of the Holy Spirit.
They expected to receive Him under the form of a rays-
terioiis breath, which passed over the assembly. Many
pretended that this was the breath of Jesus Himself.
Every inward consolation, every courageous movement,
every outburst of enthusiasm, every feeling of lively
and pleasant gaiety, which they experienced without
knowing its origin, was the work of the Spirit. These
worthy consciences referred, as ever, to an outward
cause the exquisite feelings which were springing up
in them. It was especially in their assemblies that
these varied phenomena of illuraination were pro
duced. When they were all assembled together and
were awaiting in silence the heavenly inspiration,
whatever murraur or noise arose was thought to be the
coming of the Spirit. In the early tiraes, it was the
apparitions of Jesus which were thus produced. Now,
there was a change in the course of their ideas. It
was the Divine breath which was breathed over
the little church and filled it with heavenly emana
tions. These beliefs were strengthened by notions
drawn from the Old Testament. The Spirit of prophecy
is represented in the Hebrew books as a breathing
which penetrates and lifts up the subject of it. In the

94 THE APOSTLES.
beautiful vision of Elijah,' God passes by under the
form of a light wind, which produces a gentle rustling
sound. This ancient imagery had handed down to later
epochs systems of belief very sirailar to those of the
spiritualists of our own time. In the Ascension of
Isaiah' the coming of the Spirit is accomplished by a
certain crashing at the doors.^ Later on, they always
regarded this coraing in the light of another baptism —
that is to say, the " baptism of the Spirit," far superior
to that of John.'* The hallucinations of bodily touch
being very frequent amongst persons so nervous and
so excited as they were, the least current of air, ac
companied by a shuddering in the raidst of the silence,
was considered as the passage of the Spirit. One
thought that he felt it ; very soon all perceived it ;"
and the enthusiasra was coramunicated "frora neighbor
to neighbor. The correspondence of these phenoraena
with those which are found- to exist amongst the
visionaries of every age is easily demonstrated. They
are produced daily, partly under the influence of the
reading the book of the Acts of the Apostles, in the
English and American sects of Quakers, Jumpers,
Shakers, Irvingites ;'^ amongst the Mormons,'* and in
the camp meetings and revivals of America ;'* we have
seen them reproduced amongst ourselves in the sect
called the Spiritualists. But an immense difference
should be observed between aberrations, without
capacity or future results, and the illusions which have
accompanied the establishment of a new code of reli
gion for the huraan race.
Araongst all these " descents of the Spirit," which
appear to have been by no means infrequentj there was

THE APOSTLES. 95
one which left a deep impression on the nascent
Church." One day when they were assembled toge
ther a thunder-storm arose. A violent wind burst the
windows open — the sky seemed on fire. Thunder
storms in those countries are accompanied by wonder
ful illuminations ; the atmosphere is furrowed, as it
were, on every side with garbes of fiame. Whether the
electric fluid had penetrated into the very chamber
itself,, or whether a dazzling flash of lightning had sud
denly illuminated all their faces, they were convinced
that the Spirit had entered, and that he was poured
out upon the head of each one of them under the form
of tongues bf fire,'* It was a prevalent opinion in the
theurgic schools of Syria that the communication of
the Spirit was produced by a divine fire, and under the
form of a raysterious glimmering." It was believed to
have been present at the display of all the wonders of
Mount Sinai,'* at a manifestation analogous to those
of forraer tiraes. The baptisra of the Spirit hence be
carae also a baptisra of fire. The baptism of the Spirit
and of fire was opposed to and greatly preferred to that
of water, the only form with which John had been ac
quainted." ¦ The baptism of fire was only produced on
rare occasions ; only the apostles and the disciples of the
first guest-chamber were supposed to have-received it.
But the idea that the Spirit was poured forth upon thera
under the forra of strokes of flame resembling burning
tongues originated a series of singular ideas, which took
firm hold of the imaginations of the period.
The tongue of an inspired man was supposed to have
received a sort of sacrament. It was pretended that
many prophets before their mission had been stararaer-

93 THE APOSTLES.
ers f that the angel of God had passed a coal over their
Hps, which purified them anU conferred ori them the
gift of eloquence.^'- In his prophetic utterances the
man was supposed not to speak at all about himself.^
His tongue was looked upon merely as the organ of the
Divinity who inspired it. These tongues of fire ap
peared a very striking syrabol. The disciples were
convinced that God desired to raake it kno^n that on
the apostles also he had conferred his most precious
gifts of eloquence and inspiration. But they did not
stop there ; Jerusalem was, like raost of the great cities
of the East, a city where raany languages were spoken.
The diversity of tongues was one of the difficulties
which they there discovered in the way of the propa
gation of a universal forra of faith. Besides, one of the
things which raost alarmed the apostles at their very
entry on a ministry destined to embrace the world, was
the number of languages which were spoken in it ; they
were constantly inquiring how they could learn so many
dialects. " The gift of tongues " became thenceforth a
marvellous privilege. They believed that the preach
ing of the gospel would relieve them from the obstacle
which the difference of idioms had raised.- They pre
tended that, under certain solemn circumstances, those
present had heard, each in his own language, the gospel
preach-ed by the apostles ; in other words, that the
apostolic promise was delivered to each one of the
hearers. At other tiraes, this conception was enter
tained in a soraewhat different shape. They ascribed
to the apostles the gift of acquiring, by divine illumi
nation, every language spoken, and of speaking those
languages at will.

THE APOSTLES. 97
There was in this a liberal conception ; they wished
it should have no language peculiar to itself, that it
should be capable of translation into every, language,
and that the translation should be of the same standard
value as the original. Such was not the opinion of
orthodox Judaism. The Hebrew was " the holy lan
guage" to the Jew of Jerusalem, and no version could be
compared to it. Translations of the Bible were in little
esteem ; so long as the Hebrew text was scrupulously
guarded in the translations, changes and modifications
of expression were tolerated. The Jews of Egypt and
Hellenists of Palestine, indeed, practised a more tole
rant system, and habitually perused the Greek trans
lations of the Bible. But the first plan of the Chris
tians was even broader; according to their idea, the
word of God has no language peculiar to it ; it is free,
unfettered by any idiomatic peculiarity ; it is delivered
to all spontaneously and without interpretation. The
facility with which Christianity becarae detached from
the Semitic dialect which Jesus had spoken, the liberty
which it at first accorded to every nation of forming its
own liturgy, and its own versions of the Eible in the
vernacular, favored this sort of emancipation of lan
guages. It was generally adraitted that the Messiah
would gather intro one, all languages as well as all
peoples.^* Common usage and the promiscuousness of
the languages was the first grand step towards this
grand era of universal pacification.
Moreover, the gift of languages very soon underwent
a considerable variation, and resulted in very extraor
dinary effects. Ecstasy and prophecy were the fruits
of mental excitement. At these raoraents of ecstasy, t'he
5

98 THE APOSTLES.
faithful, possessed by the Spirit, uttered inarticulate and
incoherent sounds, which were mistaken for the words
of a foreign language, and which they innocently at
tempted to interpret.^ At other times they supposed
that the ecstatically possessed was giving utterance to
new and hitherto unknown languages,^ which were not
even the languages of the angels.^'
These extravagant scenes, which were the fruitful
cause of abuse, only becarae habitual at a later period f
but it is probable that they were produced from the
earliest years of Christianity. The visions of the an
cient prophets had often been accompanied by pheno
mena of nervous excitement.*' The dithyrambic state
amongst the Greeks abounded in occurrences of the
same kind ; the Pythia seemed to give a preference to
the use of foreign or obsolete words, which were called,
as also in the apostolic phenoraena, glosses.*^ Many
of the pass- words of priraitive Christianity, which are
precisely bi-linguistic, or formed by anagrams, such as
Abba, Father, and Anathema Maranatha^ took their
origin perhaps from these fantastic paroxysms, inter
mingled with sighs** from stifled gradus, from ejacula
tions, prayers, and sudden transports which were inter
preted as prophecies. It was like some vague har
mony of the soul, thrilling in indistinct sounds, and
which the hearers of it desired to transform into deter
mined shapes and words,** or rather like spiritual
prayers addressed to God in a language understood by
God alone, and which God knows how to interpret.**
The individual in a state of ecstasy understood,
in fact, nothing of what he uttered, and had no cogni
zance of it whatever.*' His eager listeners ascribed

THE APOSTLES. 99
to his incoherent syllables the thoughts which occurred
to them at the time. Each one referred to his own dia
lect, and artlessly strove to explain the unintelligible
sounds by what little knowledge of languages he pos
sessed. They were always more or less successful,
because the auditor interpolated within these broken
accents the thoughts of his own breast. The history
of fanatical sects is rich in facts of this description.
The preachers of Cevennes displayed raany instances
of " glossology,"** but the most remarkable fact is that
of the " readers" of Sweden,*' about the years 1841-
1843. Involuntary enunciations, devoid of sense in the
minds of those who uttered them, and accorapanied by
convulsions and fainting-fits, were for a long time daily
practised by the raerabers of this little sect. This phe-
noraenon became quite contagious, and a considerable
popular moveraent becarae blended with it. Araongst
the Irvingites, the phenoraenon of tongues is produced
with features which reproduce, in "the raost reraarkable
manner, the most striking of the stories of the " Acts ''
and of St. Paul.** Our own age has witnessed fantastic
scenes of the same nature, which need not to be
recounted here ; for it is always unjust to compare
the credulity of a, grand religious movement with
the credulity which is caused only by dulness of intel
lect. Now and then these strange phenomena were produced
outside. The extatics, at the very moment when under
the influence of their extravagant fantasies, had the hardi
hood -to go out and display themselves to the crowd.
They were taken for persons who were intoxicated.*'
However sober-minded in point of mysticism. Jesus had

100 THE APOSTLES^
more than once presented in his own person the ordina
ry phenomena of the extatic state.*^ The disciples, dur
ing three or four years, were possessed with these ideas.
The prophesyings were frequent, and were regarded as
a gift analogous to that of tongues.** Prayer, mingled
with convulsions, with harmonized modulations, with mys
tic sighs, with lyrical enthusiasm, with songs of thanks
giving,** was a daily exercise among them. A rich
vein of "canticles," of "Psalms," and of "Hymns," co
pied from those of the Old Testament was thus disco
vered to be open to them.*' Soraetiraes the lips and the
heart were in rautual accord ; soraetimes the spirit sang
alone, accompanied by grace in the inner man.** Any
language which did not afford the new sensations which
were being produced, they suffered to becoine an indis
tinct stamraering, at once sublirae and puerile; or that
which they could denominate " the Christian language"'
was wafted aloud in an embryo state. Christianity, not
finding in the ancient tongues a weapon appropriate to its
needs, has destroyed them. But whilst the new religion
was forming for itself an idiom of its own, ages of obscure
efforts, and so to speak, of squalling, intervened. What
is the characteristic of the style of St. Paul and, in
general, that of the writers of the New Testament, but
the stifled, panting, misshapen improvisation of the
" Glossology ? " Language failed them. Like the pro
phets, they began with the a, a, a of the infant.*' They
knew not how to speak. The Greek and the Semitic
tongues equally betrayed them. Thus arose that frigh^
ful violence which the new Christianity inflicted upon
language. They would call it a stammering of the
mouth, by which the sounds are stifled and confused,

THE APOSTLES. 101 ¦
and wind up with a pantorairae confused indeed, but
nevertheless wonderfully expressive.
All this was very far from the intention of Jesus;
but to those whose minds were irabued with a belief in
the supernatural, these phenomena were of the utraost
importance. The gift of tongues, in particular, was con
sidered as an essential sign of the new religiouj and, as
it were, a proof of its verity.** In every case it resulted in
great fruits of edification. Many pagans were in this
manner converted.*'
Up to the third century, the " Glossology " manifested
itself in a manner analogous to that which St. Paul de
scribes, and was considered in the light of a .permanent
miracle.'* Some of the sublimest words of Christianity
have originated in these incoherent sighings. The general
effect was touching and penetrating. This fashion of
joining together their inspirations and delivering them
over to the community for interpretation was enough
to establish amongst the faithful a profound bond of con
fraternity. Like all mystics, the new sectaries led lives
of fasting and austerity." Like the majority of Orientals,
they ate little, which fact contributed to maintain their
excited state. The sobriety of the Syrian, caused
by physical weakness, kept him in a constant state of
fever and nervous susceptibility. Such great and pro
tracted intellectual efforts as ours are impossible under
such a regimen ; but this cerebral and muscular debili
ty is productive, without apparent cause, of lively alter
nations of sadness and joy, which bring the soul into
continual communion with God. Thus that which they
called "godly sorrow '"^ passed for a heavenly gift.
All the teachings of the Fathers respecting the spiritual

102 THE APOSTLES.
life,' such as John Chinaticus, as Basil, as Nilus, as Ar-
senius — all the secrets ofthe grand art of the inward life,
one of the most glorious creations of Christianity — were
germinating in that strange state of mind which pos
sessed, in their months of extatic watchfulness, those il
lustrious ancestors of all " the men of longings." Their
moral state was strange ; they lived in the supernatural.
They acted only on the authority of visions ; dreams and
the most insignificant circurastances appeared to them to
be adraonitions from. Heaven.'* Under the name of
gifts of the Holy Spirit were concealed also the rarest
and most exquisite emanations of the soul — ^love, piety,
respectful fear, objectless sighings, sudden languor, and
spontaneous tenderness. All the good that is engen
dered in man, without man having any part in it, was
attributed to a breathing from on high. Tears were
often taken for a celestial favor. This charming gift,
the privilege only of very good and pure souls, was re
peated with an infinity of sweetness. We know what
influence delicate natures — above all, women — exercise in
the ability to shed copious tears. It is their style of
praying, and assuredly it is the most holy of prayers.
We must come down quite to the Middle Ages, to
that piety watered with tears of St. Bruno, St. Ber
nard, and St. Francis of Assisi, in order to discover
again the chaste melancholy of those early days, when
they verily sowed in tears that they might reap with joy.
To weep became an act of piety ; those who could not
preach, who were ignorant of languages, and unable to
work miracles, wept. Praying, preaching, admonishing
they wept ;" it was the advent of the kingdora of tears.
One might have said that their souls were dissolved, and

THB APOSTLES. 103
that they desired, in the absence of a language which
could interpret their sentiments, to display themselves to
the world by a lively and brief expression of their entire
inner bBing.

CHAPTEE V.
FIEST OHUECH OF JEEUSALEM ;. ITS CHAEACTEE OENOBITICAL.
The custom of living in a community professing one
identical faith, and indulging in one and the same
expectation, necessarily produced many habits com
mon to all the society. Very soon rules were enacted,
and established a certain analogy between this primi
tive church and the ceuobitical establishments with
which Christianity becarae acquainted at a later period.
Many of the precepts of Jesus conduced to this ; the
true ideal of the gospel life is a raonastery — not a mo
nastery closed in with iron gratings, a prison of the
type of the Middle Ages, with the separation of the two
sexes, but an asylum in the midst of the world, a place
set apart for the spiritual life, a free association or little
confraternity, tracing around it a rampart which may
serve to dispel cares that are hurtful to the kingdom
of God. All, then, lived in common, having only one
heart and one mind.' No one possessed aught which
individually belonged to him. On becoming disciples
of Jesus, they sold their goods and presented to the
society the price of them. The chiefs of the society
then distributed the common possessions according to
the needs of each member. They dwelt in one neigh
borhood only.^ They took their meals together, and
continued to attach to them the mystic sense which
Jesus had ordered.* Many hours of the day they spent

THB APOSTLES. 105
in prayer. These prayers were soraetiraes improvised
in a loud voice ; oftener they were silent meditations.
Their states of ecstasy were frequent, and each one
believed himself to be incessantly favored with the
Divine inspiration. Their harmony was perfect ; no
quarrelling about dogmas, no dispute respecting prece-
dencfr. The tender recollection of Jesus prevented all
dissensions. A lively and deeply rooted joy pervaded
their hearts.* Their morals were austere, but marked
by a sweet and tender sympathy. They assembled in
houses to pray and abandon themselves to ecstatic
exercises.' The reraerabrance of those two or three
years rested upon thera like that of a terrestrial para
dise, which Christianity would henceforth pursue in
all its dreams, and to which it would endeavor to
return in vain. Who, indeed, does not see that such
an organization could only be applicable to a very
'little church? But, la'ter on, the monastic life will
resume on its own account this primitive ideal, which
the church universal will hardly dream of realizing.
That the author of the " Acts," to whom we owe the
picture of this first Christianity at Jerusalem, has some
what overcolored it, and in particular has exaggerated
the community of goods which prevailed there, is quite
possible. The author of the " Acts " is the same as the
author of the third Gospel, who, in his life of Jesus, is
accustomed to shape his facts according to his own theo
ries,' and with whom a tendency to the doctrine of
"ebionism '" — that is to say, of absolute poverty — is very
perceptible. Nevertheless, the story of the " Acts " can
not be entirely without foundation. Although even
Jesus would not have given utterance to any of those

106 THE APOSTLES.
communistic axiom's which we read of in the third Gos
pel, certain it is that a renunciation of the goods of this
world and a giving of alras, carried so far as even the
despoiling of self, was entirely conformable to the spirit
of his preaching. The belief 'that the world is coming to
an end has always been conducive to a ceuobitical life and
to a distaste for the things of this world.* The story of
the " Acts " is, in other respects, perfectly conformable to
what we know of the origin of other ascetic religions —
of Buddhism, for example. These sorts of religion in
variably commence with the ceuobitical life. Their first
adepts are a species of mendicant monks. The laity are
only introduced into them at a more advanced period, and
when these religions have conquered entire societies, or
the monastic life could only exist under exceptional cir
cumstances.' We admit, then, inthe Church of Jerusalem
a period of ceuobitical life. Two centuries later, Chris
tianity produced still on the pagans the effect of a com
munistic sect.'* We must remeraber that the Essenians
or Thereapeutians had already produced the model of this
description of life, which sprang very legitimately from
Mosaism. The Mosaic code being essentially moral, and
not political, naturally produced a social Utopia ; church,
synagogue, and convent — not a civil regime, nation, or
city. Egypt had had, for many centuries, recluses both
male and female supported by the State, probably in
fulfilment of charitable bequests, near the Serapeum of
Memphis." Above all, it must be remembered that
such a life in the East is by no means such as it has been
in our West. In the East, one can abundantly enjoy
nature and life without possessing anything. Man, in
those countries, is always free because he has few cares ;

THB APOSTLES. 107
the slavery of labor is there unknown. We willingly
suppose that the comraunisra of the primitive Church
was neither so rigorous nor so universal as the author of
the "Acts " would lead us to believe. What is certain
about it is, that it had a large community of poor people
at Jerusalem, governed by the apostles, and - to whom
donations from all the places where Christianity existed
were sent.'^ This community was, doubtless, compelled
to establish rules of a sufficiently rigorous nature, and
some years later it became necessary to keep it in due
order, even to employ terror. Frightful legends were cir
culated, according to which, the simple fact of having
retained anything besides that which had been presented
to the community, was treated as a capital crime and
punished with death.'*
The porticos of the temple, especially Solomon's
porch, which commanded the valley of Cedron, was the
place where the disciples usually assembled in the day
time.^* There they recalled the remembrance of those
hours which Jesus had passed in the same spot. In the
midst of the imraense activity which existed all about the
temple, they would be little remarked. The galleries
which formed part of this building were the seat of nu
merous schools and sects, and the arena of many a dis
pute. The faithful of Jesus would no doubt be taken
for devotees of great precision of manner ; for they scru
pulously observed all the Jewish customs, praying at
the appointed hours," and observing all the precepts of
the law. They were Jews, only differing from the
others in their belief that the Messiah had already come.
People who were not well versed in their concerns (and
these were the immense majority), looked upon them as

108 THE APOSTLES.
a sect of Hasidim, or pious people. By being affiliated
with thera, they became neither schismatics nor heretics,"
any more than a man ceases to be a Protestant on be
coming a disciple of Spener, or a Catholic because he is
a member of the order of St. Francis or St. Bruno. They
were beloved by the people on account of their piety,
their simplicity, and sweetness of temper." The aristo
crats of the temple, no doubt, regarded them with dis-
fiivor. But the sect made little noise ; it was quiet and
tranquil, thanks to its obscurity. At eventide, the
brethren returned to their quarters and partook of the
meal, divided into groups'* as a mark of brotherhood and
in remembrance of Jesus, whom they always saw present
in the midst of them. The head of the table brake the
bread, blessed the cup," and handed them round as
a symbol of union in Jesus. The coramonest act of
life thus became the raost holy and reverential one.
These family repasts, always favorites with the Jews,*'
were accompanied by prayers and pious ejaculations, and
abounded in a pleasant sort of joyfulness. They thought
again of the time when Jesus cheered thera by His
presence ; they fancied that they saw Him ; and soon it
was bruited abroad that Jesus had said : " As often as
ye break the bread, do it in remembrance of me."^'
The bread itself becarae, in a certain raanner, Jesus ;
regarded as the only source of strength for those who
had loved him, and who still lived by hira. These
repasts, which were always the principal symbol of
Christianity and the very life of its mysteries,^ were at
first served every night ;^ but soon custora restricted
them to Sunday evenings^ only ; and later, the mystic
repast was transferred to the morning.^ It is probable

THE APOSTLES. 109
that at the period of the history which we are now
treating, the holiday of each week was still, with the
Christians even, the Saturday.^* The apostles chosen
'by Jesus, and who were supposed to have received
frora Hira a special coraraand to announce to the world
the kingdora of God, had, in the little community, an
undoubted superiority. One of their first cares, as
soon as they saw the sect quietly settled at Jerusalem,
was to fill up the void which Judas of Kerioth had left
in its ranks.^' The opinion that this Judas had betrayed
his Master and became the cause of his death, became
more generally received. The legend was mixed up
with him, and daily they learned some new circum
stance which increased the blackness of his deed. He
had bought for himself a field near the old necropolis
of Hakeldama, to the south of Jerusalera, and there he
lived a retired life.^* Such was the artless exciteraent
whicii pervaded the whole of the little church, that in
order to replace hira they had recourse to the plan of
casting lots. In general, in times of great religious
excitement, this method of deciding is preferred, for it
is admitted on principle that nothing is fortuitous, that
the raatter in hand is the principal object of the Divine
attention, and that the part which God takes in any
matter is greater in proportion to the weakness of man.
The only condition was, that the candidates should be
selected frora the number of the older disciples, who
had been witnesses of the entire series of events since
the baptism by John., This considerably reduced the
number of those who were eligible. Only two were
found in the ranks, Joseph Bar-Saba, who bore the narae
of Justus,^ and Matthias. The lot fell upon Matthias,

110 THB APOSTLES.
who from that time was counted in the number of the
Twelve. But this was the only example of such a
replacing. The apostles were considered hitherto as
having been naraed by Jesus once for all, and as not
proposing to have any successors. The idea of a per
raanent college, preserving in itself all the life and
strength of association, was judiciously rejected for a
time. The concentration of the Church into an oli
garchy did not occur until- much later.
We must guard, moreover, against the misunder
standings which this appellation of " apostle " may
induce, and which it has npt failed to occasion. From
a very remote period the idea was forraed, by some
passages of the Gospels, and above all by the analogy
of the life of St. Paul, that the apostles were essen
tially travelling missionaries, distributing amongst
themselves in a certain way the world in advance, and
traversing as conquerors all the kingdoms of the
earth.** A cycle of legends was invented in respect
to this gift, and iraposed upon ecclesiastical history.*'
Nothing is raore opposed to the truth.*^ The twelve
disciples were permanently settled at Jerusalem ;
up to the year 60, or thereabouts, they did not leave
the holy city, except on teraporary missions. And
in this way is explained the obscurity in which the
greater part of the central council remained ; very few
of thera had any particular duty to perforra. They
formed a sort of a sacred college or a senate,** unequi
vocally destined to represent tradition and a conserva
tive spirit. In the end they were discharged from all
active duty, because they had only to preach and to
pray ;** as yet the brilliant feats of preaching had not

THE APOSTLES. Ill
fallen to their lot. Scarcely were their names known
out of Jerusalem ; and about the year 70 or 80 the
catalogues which were published of these twelve
primary elect ones only agreed in the principal
names.** The "brothers of the Lord" appear to have been
often with the " apostles," although they were dis
tinguished from them.** Their authority was at least
equal to that of the apostles. These two groups Consti
tuted, in the nascent Church, a sort of aristocracy,
based entirely upon the greater or less intimacy which
they had had with the Master. It was these men whom
St. Paul called " pillars " of the Church of Jerusalem.*'
We see, moreover, that no distinctions of ecclesiastical
hierarchy were yet in existence. The title was no
thing ; the personal authority was everything. The
principle of ecclesiastical celibacy was already well
established ;** but it required time to conduct all these
germs to their full development. Peter and Philip were
married, and were the fathers of sons and daughters.*'
The term by which the assembly of the faithful was
distinguished, was the Hebrew word Kahal, which was
rendered by the essentially democratic word i-ad^-ni-U,
Ecclesia, which means the convocation of the people in
the ancient Grecian cities, the summons to assemble at
the Pnyx or the Agora. Commencing about the
second or third century before Jesus Christ, Athenian
democracy became a sort of comraon law wherever the
Hellenic language was spoken ; raany of these terms,**
on account of their being used in the Greek confra
ternities, were introduced into the language of Christi
anity. It was in reality the popular life, for centuries

112 THE APOSTLES.
kept under restraint, which reasserted its power under
entirely different forms. The primitive Church is, in
its own way, a little deraocracy. The election by
ballot, however — that raode so cherished by the ancient
republics — is only rarely reproduced.*' Far less harsh
and suspicious than the ancient cities, the church
readily delegated its authority ; like every theocratic
society, it had a tendency to abdicate its functions into
the hands of the clergy, and it was easy to foresee that
one or two centuries would scarcely elapse before all
this democracy would resolve into an oligarchy.
The powers which they ascribed to an assembled
Church and to its chiefs was enormous. All mission
was conferred by the Church, which was entirely
guided in its choice by signs given by the spirit.*^ Its
authority extended as far as the death penalty. They
related how, at the voice of Peter, guilty persons
fell backwards and expired immediately.** St. Paul,
at a later period, was not afraid, when excommunicat
ing an incestuous person, " to deliver him to Satan for
the destruction of the flesh, that the spirit may be
saved in the day of the Lord Jesus." Excomraunica-
tion was considered equivalent to a sentence of death.
They doubted not that an individual whom the
apostles or chiefs of the Church had cut off' from the
body of the saints and delivered over to the power of
the Evil One, was lost.*' Satan was considered to be
the author of the diseases ; to deliver to him the
infected member was to hand him over to the natural
executioner. A premature death was ordinarily con
sidered as the result of one of those secret judgments,
which, according to the expressive Hebrew term, " cut

THE APOSTLES. 113
off a soul from Israel."** The apostles believed thera
selves to be invested with supernatural powers ; while
pronouncing such conderanations, they believed that
their anatheraas could not fail to be effectual.
The terrible, impression which these excommunica
tions made, and the hatred of all the brethren towards the
members thus cut off, were powerful enough in fact to
produce death in many cases, or at least to compel the
guilty person to expatriate himself. The sarae fright
ful ambiguity was found in the old law. "Extirpa
tion " implied, at once decease, expulsion from the cora
raunity, exile, and a solitary and mysterious death.*'
To kill the apostate, of blasphemer, to beat his body
in order to save his soul, would seem quite lawful. It
must be reraerabered that we are treating of the times
of zealots, who considered it a virtuous act to assassi
nate any one who failed in obedience to the law ;** nor
must we forget that sorae of the Christians were, or
had been, zealots.*' Stories like that of the death of
Ananias and Sapphira'* raised no scruplfes. The
idea of the civil power was so strange to all this world
situated outside of the Eoman law, they were so per
suaded that ' the Church was a complete society suffi
cient for all its own needs, that nobody regarded the
death or mutilation of an individual as an outrage
punishable by the civil I^pW. Enthusiasra and burning
faith covered all, yea, excused all. But the frightful
danger which these theocratic maxiras entailed on the
future was easily perceived. The Church is armed
with a sword ; excommunication will be a sentence of
death. There is henceforth in the world a power above
that of the State which disposes of the lives of citizens.

114 THE APOSTLES.
Assuredly if the Eoman power had liraited itself to the
repression among the Jews and the Christians of such
abominable principles, it would have been a thousand
times in the right. Only in its brutality it confounded
the most legitimate of liberties, that of worshipping
according to one's own conviction, with abuses which
no society has ever been able to endure with impunity.
Peter had a certain primacy amongst the apostles;
the result of his daring zeal and activity.*' In these
early times he is scarcely ever separated from John,
the son of Zebedee. They went together almost always,*^
and their perfect concord was doubtless the corner
stone of the new faith. Jaraes, brother of the Lord,
was nearly their equal in authority, at least in one sec
tion of the Church. In respect to certain intimate
friends of Jesus, like the woraen of Galilee and the
family of Bethany, we have already observed that we
have no more to do with them. Less anxious to
organize and found a society, the faithful companions
of Jesus Vere satisfied to love in death Him whom they
had loved when alive. Totally occupied with their
waiting, these noble woinen, who have established tlie
faith of the world, were almost unknown to the iraport
ant men of Jerusalem. When they died, the most
important traits in the history of nascent Christianity
were buried in the tomb with them. The active cha
racters alone became renowned;, those who are content
to love secretly remain in obscurity, but assuredly
they have the better part.
It is superfluous to remark that this little group had
no speculative theology. Jesus kept hiraself far re
moved from everything metaphysical. He had only one

THE APOSTLES'. 115
dogma. His own divine Sonship and the divine 'authority
of His mission. Every synibol of the priraitive Church
raight be contained in one line : " Jesus is the Messiah,
the Son of God." This belief rested upon a pererap
tory argument, the fact of the resurrection, of which
the disciples claimed to be witnesses. In reality, no
one (not even the Galilean woraen) declared that they
had seen the resurrection.'* But the absence of the
body and the apparitions which had followed appeared
to be equivalent to the fact itself. To attest the
resurrection of Jesus was the task which all consi
dered as being specially imposed upon them.** They ¦
quickly entertained the idea that the Master had pre
dicted this event. They recollected different sayings
of His, which they fancied that they had never tho
roughly understood, andin which they saw too late an
announcement of the resurrection." Belief in the next
glorious manifestation of Jesus was universal.'* The
secret word which the associated brethren used araong
themselves for purposes of mutual recognition and con
firmation was Maranatha, " The Lord will come.""
They fancied that they remembered a declaration of
Jesus, according to which their preaching would not
have time to reach to all the towns of Israel before the
Son of Man appeared in His majesty.'* In the mean
while, Jesus risen is seated at the right hand of His
Father. There He remains until the solemn day on
which He shall corae, seated on the clouds, ta judge the
quick and the dead."
The idea which they had of Jesus was the very same
which Jesus had given them of Himself. Jesus had
been a mighty prophet in word and in deed,** a man

116 THE APOSTLES.
elect of God, having received a special mission in be-
lialf of mankind,*' a mission the truth of which he had
proved by His miracles, and, above all, by His resurrec
tion. God anointed Him with the Holy Spirit and en
dued Hirn with power; He went about doing good and
healing those who were under the power of the devil ;*^
for God was with Him.** He is the Son of God, that is,
a man entirely sent of God, a representative of God on
earth ; He is the Messiah, the Saviour ,of Israel an
nounced by the prophets.** The perusal of the books
of the Old Testament, above all of the Psalms and the
prophets, was a constant habit of the sect. In these
readings one fixed idea ever accorapanied them, and
that was to discover, above all other considerations, the
type of Jesus. They were persuaded that the ancient
Hebrew books were full of Hira, and, frora the very
first. He was moulded into a collection of texts drawn
from the prophets and the Psalms and certain of the
apocryphal books, wherein they were convinced that
the life of Jesus was foretold and described in advance.*'
This arbitrary mode of interpretation was, at that time,
that of all the Jewish schools. The Messianic allusions
were a description of witty trifiing, analogous to the
use which the ancient preachers made of passages of
the Bible, diverted frora their natural meaning, and
received as simple ornaments of sacred rhetoric. Jesus,
with His exquisite tact in religious matters, had insti
tuted no new ritual moveraent. The new sect had not,
as yet, any special ceremonies.*' Habits of piety were
Jewish habits. The assemblies had nothing precisely
liturgic about them ; they were the sessions of confra
ternities, in which they devoted themselves to prayer,

THE APOSTLES. 117
' to glossological or prophetic** exercises, and to the read
ing of correspondence. There was nothing yet of
sacerdotalism. There was no priest (cohen, or h^eui) ;
the presbyter is the " elder " of the comraunityy nothing
more. The only priest is Jesus ;*' in another sense, all
the faithful are priests.** Fasting was considered a
very meritorious usage.*' Baptisra was the sign of
entrance into the sect.'* The rite was the same in
forra as the baptism of John, but it was administered
in the name of Jesus." Baptisra was always considered
an insufficient initiation into the society. It should be
followed by 3 conferring of the gifts of the Holy Spirit,'^
which was produced by means of a prayer pronounced
over the head of the neophyte with the imposition
of- hands.
This imposition of hands, already so familiar to Jesus,'*
Was the crowning sacramental act.'* It conferred inspira
tion, inward illumination, the power of working won
ders, of prophesying and of speaking languages. This
was what they called the baptism of the Spirit. They be
lieved that they recollected a saying of Jesus: "John
baptized you with water : but as for you, you shall
be baptized with the Spirit."" Little by little these
ideas became confused, and baptism was conferred " in
the name of. the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy
Ghost.'"* But it is not probable that this formula, at
the -early period which we are describing, was as yet
employed. The simplicity of this primitive Christian
worship is evident. Neither Jesus nor the apostles had
invented it. Certain Jewish sects had adopted, before
them', grav-e and solemn ceremonies, which appear to
have come partly from Chaldseaf where they are still

118 THE APOSTLES.
practised with special liturgies, by the Sabseans and Men-
daites." The Persian religion contained, likewise, many
rites of the same description.'* The beliefs in popular
medicine, which had accompanied the strength of Jesus,
continued to be held by his disciples. The power of
healing was one of the marvellous graces conferred by
the Spirit." The first Christians, like all the Jews of
the age, regarded diseases as the punishment due to a
fault,** or the work of a malicious demon.*' The apos
tles, as well as Jesus, passed for powerful exorcists.*^
They imagined that anointings with oil, administered by
them, with imposition of hands and invocation of the
name of Jesus, were all-powerful to wash away the sins
which were the causes of the disease, and to cure the
sick.** Oil has always been in the ^ast the chiefest- of
medicines.** Of itself, moreover, the imposition of hands
by the apostles was supposed to have the same effect.*'
This imposition was conferred by iraraediate contact
with the person ; and it is not impossible that, in certain
cases, the warmth of the hands, being sensibly commu
nicated to the head, produced some little relief to the
sick man. The sect being young and few in num
ber, the question of the dead was only subsequently
brought under their notice. The effect caused by the
first deaths which took place in the ranks of the brother
hood was strange.** They disquieted themselves about
the condition of the departed ; they inquired if they
would be less favored than those who were reserved to
see with their eyes the second advent of the Son of
Man. They generally came to the conclusion that the
interval between death and the resurrection was a sort
of blank in the recollection of the defunct.*' The idea.

THE APOSTLES. 119
expressed in the Phosdon that the soul exists before and
aiter death ; that death is a beneflt ; that it is even the
state above all others favorable to philosophy, because
the soul is then altogether free and disen,gaged — this idea,
I say, was in no respect entertained by the first Christians.
They appear generally to have believed that man has no
existence apart from his body. This persuasion lasted a
long time, and only gave way when the doctrine of the
immortality of the soul, .in the sense ofthe Greek philoso
phy, had been received into the Church, and become
associated, for good or for evil, with the Christian dogma
of the resurrection and universal restoration. At the
time of which we speak, a belief in the resurrection
prevailed alraost alone.** The funeral rites were doubt
less Jewish. No importance was attached to thera ; no
inscription pointed out the name of the departed. The
great resurrection was at hand ; the body of the faithful
had only to sojourn for a very short time in the rock.
They took but little pains to come to an agreement upon
the question whether the resurrection would be univer
sal — that is to say, whether it would embrace both good
and wicked, or would apply to the elect only.*'
One of the most remarkable phenomena of the new
religion was the reappearance of prophecy. For a
long tirae previous, prophets in Israel were scarcely
raentioned. This peculiar kind of inspiration appear
ed to revive in the little sect. The primitive Church
had many prophets and prophetesses,'* answering to
those of the Old Testament. ^Psalmists reappeared
also. The model of the Christian Psalmody is, no
doubt, to be found in the Canticles, which Luke loves to
scatter about the pages of his Gospel," and which are

120 THE APOSTLES.
imitated from the Canticles of the Old Testament. These
Psalms and prophecies are, in point of form, destitute
of originality ; but an admirable spirit of tenderness
and piety animates and pervades them. It is like an
attenuated echo of the later productions of the sacred lyre
of Israel. The book of Psalras was, in some sort, the
calyx of the flower from which the Christian bee stole
its first juice. The Pentateuch, on the contrary, was, as
it appears, but little read and less pondered ; allegories
were substituted in the form of Jewish midraschim, in
which all the historical meaning of the books was sup
pressed. The chanting with which they accompanied the new
hymns'^ was probably that species of groaning without
distinct notes, which is still the chant of .the Greek
Church, of the Maronites, and of the Eastern Christians
in general.'* It is not go much a musical modulation
as a manner of forcing the voice, and of emitting
through the nose a sort of groaning, in which all the
inflexions follow each other with rapidity. They per
forraed this extraordinary raelopoeia standing, with fixed
eye, knit forehead, and contracted eyebrows, using an
appearance of effort. The word amen, above all, was
uttered in a treraulous voice with bodily shaking. This
word was of great importance in the liturgy. After
the manner of the Jews,'* the new faithful employed it
to mark the assent of the people to the word spoken
by the prophet or precentor." They perhaps already
attributed to it concealed virtues, and it was only pro
nounced with a certain emphasis. We know not whe
ther the primitive ecclesiastical chant was accompanied
with instruments.'* As to the inward chant, which the

THE APOSTLES. 121
faithful " sang in their hearts,"" and which was nothing
else than the overfiowing of those tender spirits, ardent
and dreamy as they .were, they performed it no
doubt like the slow chants of the Lollards of the Middle
Ages, in a sort of whisper.**- In general, joyousness
manifested itself in these hymns. One of the maxims
of the sages,, of the sect was, " If thou art sad, pray ;
if thou art merry, sing.""
Moreover, this first Christian literature, designed as
it was entirely for the edification of the asserabled
brethren, was not committed to writing. It entered
into the mind of none to compose books. Jesus had
spoken ; they reraerabered his words. Had he not
promised that that generation of his hearers should not
pass away before he re-appeared among them ? '**
6

CHAPTEE VI.
THE CONVEESION OF THB HELLENISTIC JEWS AND
PEOSELTTES. '
Up to the present time the Church of Jerusalem has
practically been only a little Galilean colony. The
friends of Jesus in Jerusalera and its vicinity, such as
Lazarus, Martha and Mary of Bethany, Joseph of
Arimathea and Nicodemus, had disappeared from the
scene. Only the Galilean group gathered around the
twelve apostles remained, corapact and active; and
meanwhile these zealous apostles were indefatigable
in the work of preaching. Subsequently, after the fall
of' Jerusalem, and in places distant from Judea, it was
reported that the sermons of the apostles had been
delivered in public places and before large asserablages.'
The authorities who had put Jesus to death would not
permit the revival of such stories. The proselytism
of the faithful was chiefiy carried on by means of
pointed conversations, during which their hearty earnest
ness was gradually comraunicated to others.' They
preached under the portico of Soloraon to audiences
limited in number, but on whora they produced a most
marked effect ; their sermons consisted chiefly in such
quotations frora the Old Testaraent as would support
their theory that Christ was the Messiah.* Their reason
ing, though subtle, was weak ; but the entire exegesis
of the Jews at that tirae was of the sarae character,

THE APOSTLES. 123
and the deductions drawn from the Bible by the doctors
of the Mischna are no more convincing.
Still more feeble was the proof derived from pretended
prodigies, which they brought forward in support of their ,
arguments. It is irapossible to doubt that the apostles
believed that they possessed- the power of performing
miracles, which were acknowledged as the tokens of
every Divine raission.* St. Paul, by far the ablest raind
of the priraitive Christian school, believed in rairacles.'
It was deemed certain that Jesus ;had perforraed them,
and it was but natural to suppose that the series of Divine
manifestations was to continue. Indeed thauraaturgy
was a privilege of the,apostles until the end of the first
century.* The rairacles of the apostles were of the
same nature as those of Jesus ; and consisted principally,
'though not exclusively, in the healing of the sick and
the exorcising of demons.' It was maintained that even
their shadow sufficed to bring about these raarvellous
cures.* These wonders were deeraed direct gifts of the
Holy Ghost, and held the same rank as the gifts of learn
ing, of preaching, and of prophecy.' In the third cen
tury the Church believed herself possessed of the same
privileges, and claimed as a permanent right the power
of healing the sick, of driving out devils, and of predict
ing the future.'* The ignorance of the people encou
raged these pretensions. Do we not see in our day per
sons honest enough, but lacking in scientific intelligence,
similarly deceived by the chimera of raagnotisra and
other illusions ?"
It is not by these naive errors, nor by the meagre
discourses found in the Acts, that we must form our
opinion of the means of conversion employed by the

124 THE APOSTLES.
founders of Christianity. The private conversations
of these good and earnest men, the reflection of the
words of Jesus in their discourses, and above all, their
piety and gentleness, formed the real power of
their preaching. Their coramunistic life also had its
attractions. Their house was like a hospice, where all
the poor and forsaken found a refuge and an asylura.
Araong the first who attached himself to the young
society was a Cypriote called Joseph Hallevi, or the
Levite, who, like many others, sold his land and laid the
money at the feet of the disciples. He was an intelli
gent and devoted man, and a facile speaker. The apos-
tlBs soon attached hira to their band, and called him
Bar-naha, which means the " son of prophecy," or " of
preaching.'"' He was numbered araong the prophets,
that is to say, inspired preachers ;'* and later we shall
see him playing an important part. After St. Paul, he
was the most active raissionary of the first century. A
certain Mnason was converted > about the same time.'*
Cyprus was marked by many Jewish characteristics."
Barnabas and Mnason were undoubtedly of the Jewish
race;'* and the intiraate and prolonged relations of Bar
nabas with the Church of Jerusalera give us reason to be
lieve that he was familiar with the Syro-Chaldaic tongue.
A conversion almost equally as important as that of
Barnabas, was that of a certain John, who bore the Eo
man surname of Marcus. He was cousin to Barnabas,
and was a circumcised Jew." His mother, Mary, a
woman in easy circumstances, was also converted, and
her residence was frequently visited by the apostles.'*
These two conversions appear to have been the work of
Peter," who was very intimate with both mother and

THB APOSTLES. 125
son, and considered hiraself at home in their house.^*
Admitting the hypothesis that John-Mark was not iden
tical with the true or supposed author of the second
Gospel," he yet played a prominent part, accompanying
at a later period Paul and Barnabas,- and probably Peter
himself, on their apostolic journeys.
The fire thus kindled spread rapidly. The most cele
brated men of the apostolic age were gained to the cause
in two or three years almost simultaneously. It was
a second Christian generation, parallel to that which had
been formed five or six years previously on the shores
of Lake Tiberias. This second generation, not havi'ng
seen Jesus, could not equal the first in authority, but
surpassed it in activity and in the ardor for distant
missions. One of the best known of these new adepts
was Stephanus or Stephen, who before his conversion
was probably only a simple proselyte.'' He was a man
full of fervor and passion, his faith was very strong, and
he was believed to be endowed with all the gifts of the
Spirit.'* Philip, who, like Stephen,. was a zealous dea
con and evangelist, joined .the community at about the
same time,'* and was often confounded with the apos
tle of the same name." Finally, at this epoch, Andro
nicus and Junia'* were converted. They were probably
husband and wife, who, like Aquila and PrisciUa at a
later date, were the very model of an apostolic couple,
thoroughly devoted to the missionary cause. They were
of Israelitish blood, and enjoyed the warm friendship
of the apostles."
Although the new converts were all Jews by religion,
when touched by grace,, they belonged to two very differ
ent classes of Jews. Some were " Hebrews," or Jews

126 THE APOSTLES.
of Palestine, speaking Hebrew, or ratter Aramaic, and
reading the Bible in the Hebrew text. The others
were " Hellenists," or Jews speaking Greek, and read
ing the Bible in that tongue. These last were further
subdivided into two classes — the one being of Jewish
blood ; the other proselytes, or people of non-Israelitish
origin, affiliated in different degrees to Judaism. The
Hellenists, who almost all came from Syria, Asia Minor,
Egypt, or Cyrene," inhabited a separate quarter of Jeru
salem, where they had their distinctive synagogues, thus
forming little communities by themselves. There were
a -large nuraber of these private synagogues** in Jerusa
lera, and in them the word of Jesus found a soil pre
pared for its reception.
The priraitive nucleus of the Church was exclusively
composed of " Hebrews ; " and the Aramaic dialect,
which was the language of Jesus, was the only one in
use: but during the second or third year after the death
of Jesus, Greek was introduced into the little community,
and soon became the dominant tongue. Through their
daily communication with these new brethren, Peter,
John, James, Jude, and the Galilean disciples in general,
learned Greek very easily, especially as they probably
knew soraething of it beforehand. An incident soon to
be mentioned shows that ¦ this diversity of language
created at first some division in the community, and
that the two fractions could not always readily agree.*'
After the ruin of Jerusalem, we shall see the "He
brews" retire beyond the Jordan, to the heights of
Lake Tiberias, and form a separate Church, which
had its individual history. But in the meantime it
does not appear that the diversity of language serious-

THE APOSTLES. 127
ly affected the Church. The Orientals learn new lan
guages very easily, and in the towns every one speaks
two or three dialects. It is probable that the leading
Galilean apostles acquired the use of the Greek so far
that they used it in preference to the Syro-Chaldaic
whenever the majority of their listeners understood it.
It was evident that the dialect of Palestine must be aban
doned by those who dreamed of a wide-spread propagan
da. A provincial patois which was written with difficul
ty** and only in use in Syria, was palpably insufficient
for such an undertaking. Greek, on the contrary, was
almost a necessity to Christianity. It was the universal
language of the age, at least around the eastern basin of
the Mediterranean ; and it was especially the language of
the Jews dispersed throughout the Eoman empire. Then,
as now, the Jews adopted with facility the idionis of the
countries they inhabited. They were by no means pur
ists, and this explains why the Greek used by the primi
tive Christians was so corrupt. Even the best educated
Jews pronounced the classic language badly.** Their
phraseology was always founded on the Syriac. They
never freed themselves from the, effect of the corrupt
dialects, which dated from -the Macedonian conquests.*'
The conversions to Christianity soon becarae much
more numerous among the- " Hellenists " than among
the " Hebrews." The old Jews of Jerusalem found
little attraction in a provincial sect but poorly versed
in the only science appreciated by a JPharisee — the
science of the law. The relations of the little Church
towards Judaism, like Jesus himself, were rather equi
vocal. But every religious or political party has an
innate force which rules it, and, despite of itself, com-

128 THE APOSTLES.
pels it to travel in its orbit. The first Christians, how
ever great their apparent respect for Judaism, were, in
reality, only Jews by their birth or by their outward
customs. The true spirit of the sect had, disappeared.
The Talmud germinated in official Judaism, and Chris
tianity had no affinity with the Talmud school. This is
why Christianity found special favor araong those
norainal adherents of Judaism who were the least Jew
ish. Eigid orthodoxy did not incline towards the Chris
tian sect ; and it was the new-comers, people scarcely
catechized, who had not been to the great schools, and
were ignorant of the holy language, who lent a willing
ear to the apostles and their disciples. Viewed rather
contemptuously by the aristocracy of Jerusalem, these
parvenus of Judaism were not without their revenge.
Young and newly formed parties always have less
respect for tradition than older members of commu
nities, and are more susceptible to the charms of
novelty. These classes, little subjected to the doctors of the law,
were also it seems the most credulous. Credulity is not a
characteristic of the Talmudic Jew. The credulous Jew,
fond ofthe marvellous, was not the Jew of Jerusalem, but
the Hellenist Jew ; who was at the same time very reli
gious and very ignorant, and consequently very supersti
tious. Neither the half incredulous Sadducee, nor the
rigorous Pharisee, would be much affected by the theo
ries popular in the apostolic circle. But the Judseus
Apella, of whom the epicurean Horace wrote,*' was ready
to give in his adhesion. Social questions, besides, par
ticularly interested those who received no benefit from
the opulence enjoyed by Jerusalem as the locality of

THB APOSTLES. 129
the temple and other central institutions of the nation ;
and it was by a recognition of the needs to which in this
day modern socialism seeks to respond, that the new
sect laid the solid foundation of its mighty future.
6*

CHAPTEE vn.
THE CHUECH CONSIDEEED AB AN ASSOCIATION OF POOE
PEOPLE.  INSTITUTION OF TSE DIACONATE.  DEACONESSES
AND WIDOWS.
A coMPAEisoN of the history of religion, shows, as a
general truth, that all those religions not contem
porary^ with the origin of language itself, owe
their establishment to social rather than theological
causes. This was assuredly the case with Buddhism,
the prodigious success of which may be traced to its
social eleraent, rather than to the nihilistic principle on
which it was based. It was in proclaiming the aboli
tion of castes, and establishing, in his words, " a law of
grace for all," that Sakya-Mouni and his disciples
gained the adherence, firet of India, and then of the
largest portion of Asia.' Like Christianity, Buddhism
was a movement of the lower classes. Its great attrac
tion was the facility it afforded the poor to elevate them
selves by the profession of a religion which improved
their condition and offered them inexhaustible assistance
and sympathy.
The poor were a nuraerous class in Judea during the
first century. The country was naturally scantily pro
vided with luxuries. In these countries where industry
is alraost unknown, alraost every fortune owes its origin
either to richly endowed religious institutions or govern
ment patronage. The riches of the temple were for a

THB APOSTLES. 131
long time the exclusive appanage of a liraited nuraber
of nobles. The Asmoneans gathered around their dy
nasty a circle of rich families ; and the Herods con
siderably increased the welfare and luxury of a certain
class of society. But the real theocratic Jew, turning
his back upon Eoman civilization, only became poorer.
He belonged to a class of holy men, fanatically
pious, rigidly observant of the law, and miserably and
abjectly poor. From this class, the sects of enthusiasts
so numerous at this period, received their recruits.
The universal dream of these people shadowed forth the
triuraph of the poor Jew who reraainedjfaithful, and the
hurailiation of the rich, who were considered as rene
gades and traitors, because of their civilization and dif
ferent mode of life. Intense indeed was the hatred
entertained by thesb poor fanatics against the splendid
edifices which now began to adorn the country, and
against the public works ofthe Eomans.' Obliged as they
were to toil for their daily bread on these structures,
which to thera seemed monuraents of pride and forbid
den luxury, they considered themselves the victims of
men who were rich, wicked, corrupt, and infidels to the
Divine Law.
In such a social state an association for rautual be
nefit would naturally receive a warra welcome. The
little Christian Church appeared to be a paradise. This
faraily of simple and united brethren attracted people
from every quarter, who in return for that which they
brought secured a settled future, the society of conge
nial friends, and precious spiritual hopes. The
general custom of converts* was to convert into specie
their property, which usually consisted of little farms

132 THE APOSTLES.
but scantily productive. To unmarried people in par
ticular the exchange of their plots of land for shares in
a society which would secure them a place in the Hea
venly Kingdom, could not be otherwise than advan
tageous. Several married persons did likewise. Care
was taken that the new associates should contribute
their entire effects to the comraon fund without retain
ing any portion for private use.* Indeed, as each one
received from the comraon treasury in proportion to
his needs, and not in proportion to his contributions,
every reservation of property was a fraud on the com
munity. Such attempts at organization show a surpris
ing resemblance to certain Utopian experiments made
recently ; but with the important difference that Chris
tian comraunism rested on a religious basis, which is not
the case with modern socialisra. It is evident that an
association whose dividends were declared not in propor
tion to the capital subscribed, but in proportion to indivi
dual needs, must rest only upon a sentiment of exalted
self-abnegation and an ardent faith in a religious ideal.
Under such a social constitution, however, and de
spite of the high degree of fraternity, the administra
tive difficulties were necessarily numerous. The differ
ence of language between the two factions of the
coraraunity inevitably led to misapprehensions. The
Jews of higher birth could not restrain a feeling of
contempt for their more humble brethren in the faith,
and soon expressed their dissatisfaction. " The Hel
lenists," whose numbers daily increased, complained
that their widows received less at the distributions than
those of the " Hebrews."* Until this time the apostles
had attended to the financial affairs of the commuiiity ;

THE APOSTLES. 133
but, feeling now the necessity of delegating to others
this part of their authority, they .proposed to confido
the administrative duties to seven experienced and
leading men. The proposition was accepted, and at
the election, Stephanus or Stephen, Philip, Prochorus,
Nicanor, Tiraon, Parmenas, and Nicholas, were cho
sen. This last was a simple proselyte from Antioch,
and Stephen, perhaps, was the same.' It seems that, in
opposition to the course followed in the election of the
Apostle Matthew, the choice of the seven administrators
was not raade from a group of primitive disciples, but
from the new converts, and especially from the Hellen
ists. The names of all of them, indeed, were purely
Greek. Stephen was the leading spirit of the seven,
who, in accordance with the established rite, were for
mally presented to the apostles, and confirmed by them
in the ceremony of laying on of hands.
The administrators thus designated received the Syriac
name of Schammaschim,, and were also soraetimes called
"the seven," in the same manner that the apostles
were called " the twelve."' Such was the origin of
the Diaconate, the most Ancient of sacred and ecclesi
astical orders. In imitation of the church of Jerusalem,
all the other churches introduced the Diaconate, and
the institution spread with marvellous rapidity. This
institution, indeed, elevated the care of the poor to an
equality with religious services. It was a proclaraa
tion of the truth that social questions should be the
first to occupy the attention of man. It was the intro
duction of political economy into religious affairs. The
deacons were the best preachers of Christianity, and
we shall soon see how they played their part as evan-

134 THE APOSTLES.
gelists. As organizers, financial directors, and admi
nistrators, they had a still more important part. These
practical men in perpetual contact with the poor, the
rich, and the women, viisted everywhere, observed
everything, and by their exhortations were the most
efficient agents of conversion.' They did much more
than the apdstles who reraained stationary at the cen
tral point of authority in Jerusalem ; and to them we
are indebted for the most prorainent and solid features
of Christianity.
From a very early period women were adraitted to
this employment ;'* and, as in these days, they were
called "sisters."" At first they were widows;" but
later, virgins were preferred for this office.'* Admira
ble tact was shown by the Church in this movement.
These good and simple men, with that profound science
which comes frora the heart, laid the basis of that
grand systera of charity which is the peculiar merit of
Christianity. They had no precedent for such an in
stitution. A vast system of benevolence and of reci
procal aid, to which the two sexes brought their diverse
qualities, and lent their united efforts for the relief of
human raisery, was the holy creation which resulted
from the travail of these two or three first years — the
raost prolific years in the history of Christianity. It is
certain that the vital thoughts of Jesus filled the souls
of His disciples and directed all their acts. Justice,
indeed, demands that to Jesus should be referred the
honor of all the great deeds of His apostles. It is pro
bable that during His life He laid the foundations of
those establishments which were successfully developed
so soon after His death.

THE APOSTLES. 135
Women, naturally, were attracted towards a com
munity where the weak were so cordially protected.
Their position in society had previously been humble
and precarious ; widows, particularly, notwithstanding
several protecting laws, were but little respected,'* and
often even abandoned to misery. Many of the doctors
were opposed to giving them any religious education."
The Talraud placed along with the other pests of raan-
kind, the gossiping and inquisitive widow, who spent
her days in chatting with her neighbors, and the maiden
who wasted her time in incessant praying.'* The new
religion offered to these poor and neglected souls a sure
and honorable asylum." Several women occupied a
prominent place in the Church, and their houses served
as places of meeting ;'* while those who had -no houses
were formed into a species of feminine presbyteral
body, comprising probably the virgins, who did im
portant duty in charitable works. Those institutions,
regarded as the fruit of a later Christianity, such as
congregations of women, nuns, and sisters of charity,
were really one of its first creations, the beginning of
its influence, and the most perfect expression of its
spirit. The admirable idea of consecrating by a sort
of religious character and subjecting to regular disci
pline those women who were not in the bonds of mar
riage, is peculiarly and entirely Christian. The word
" widow " became a synonyme for a person devoted to
religious works, consecrated to God, and, consequently,
a " deaconess.'"* In those countries, where the wife at
her twenty-fourth year already began to fade, and where
there was no middle state between the child and the
old woman, it was practically a new life which was

136 THE APOSTLES.
thus opened for that portion of the human race the
most capable of devotion.
The times of the Seleucidse had been a terrible
epoch for female depravity. Never before were known
so many domestic dramas, and such a series of poisonings
and adulteries. The wise men of that day considered
woman as a scourge to humanity ; as the first cause of
baseness and shame ; as an evil genius whose only part
in life was to impair whatever there was of good in the
opposite sex. Christianity changed all this. At that
age which, to our view, is yet youth, but at which the
existence of the Oriental woraan is so gloomy, so fatally
prone to evil suggestions, the widow could, by covering
her head with a black shawl,*' become a respectable
person worthily employed, and, as a deaconess, the
equal of the most esteemed men in the community.
The difficult and dubious position of the childless
widow, Christianity elevated even to sanctity.** The
widow became almost the equal of the maiden. She
was xaAoypia, "beautiful old age,'"* venerated and
useful, and receiving the respect usually award
ed to a mother. These women, constantly going
to and fro, were the most useful missionaries of the
new religion. Protestants areln error in viewing these
facts through the light of the system of modern indi
viduality. Socialism and cenobitism are primitive fea
tures of Christianity.
The bishop and priest of later days did not yet exist ;
but that intimate familiarity of souls not bound by ties
of blood, known as the pastoral ministry, was already
founded. This was always the special gift of Jesus;
and, as it were, a heritage from Him. Jesus had often said

THB APOSTLES. 137
that He was more than father and mother, and that "those
who followed Him must forsake those beloved beings.
Christianity placed some things above the family. It
created a fraternity and spiritual marriages. The
ancient system of marriages, which without restriction
placed the wife in the power of the husband, was mere
slavery. The moral liberty of woraan began when the
Church gave her in Jesus a friend and a guide, who
advised aud consoled her, always listened to her griev
ances, and sometimes advised resistance. Woraen need
a governing power, and are only happy when governed ;
but it is necessary that they should love the one who
wields that power. This is what neither .ancient
society, Judaism, nor Islamism, were able to do.
Woman never had a religious conscience, a raoral
individuality, or an opinion of her own, previous to
Christianity. Thanks to the Bishops and to raonastic
life, Eadegonda found raeans for escaping from the
arras of a barbarous husband. The life of the' soul
being all that is really of iraportance, it is just and
reasonable that the pastor who would make the divine
chords of the heart vibrate, the secret counsellor who
holds the key of the conscience, should be more than a
father, more than a husband.
In one sense Christianity was a reaction against the
too narrow domestic system of the Aramaic race. The
old Aramaic societies only admitted married men, and
were singularly strict in their views of the raarriage
relation. All this was soraething analogous to the
English family — a narrow, closed up, contracted circle—
an egotism of several, as withering to the soul as the
egotism of an individual. Christianity, with its divine

138 THE APOSTLES.
idea" of the liberty of God, corrected these exaggerations.
And first it allotted to every one the duties common to
mankind. It saw that the faraily relation was not of
sole iinportance in life, or at least that the duty of re
producing the huraan race did not devolve on every one ;
and that there should be persons freed from these duties,
which are undoubtedly sacred, but not intended for
every One. The same exceptions made in favor of
the hetairoB like Aspasia by Greek society, and of
the cortigiana like Imperia, in recognition of the
necessities of polished society, Christianity made for,
the priest and the deaconess for the public welfare.
It admitted different classes in society. There are
people who find it more delightful to be loved by a
hundred people than by five or six ; and for these the
family in its ordinary conditions seems insufficient, cold,
and wearisome. Why, then, should we extend to all,
the exigencies of our dull and mediocre social system?
His temporal family is not sufficient for man ; he feels
the need of brothers and sisters besides those of the flesh.
By its hierarchy of different social functions, the primi
tive Church seemed to conciliate for the time these op
posing exigencies. We shall never understand, never
comprehend, how happy these people were underthese holy
regulations which sustained liberty without restraining
it, and permitted at the same time the advantages of
communistic and private life. It was far different from -
the confusion of our artificial societies, in which the sen
sitive soul so often finds it cruelly isolated. In these
little refuges which they call churches, the social atmo
sphere was sweet and inviting ; the meraber lived there
in the same faith and actuated by the same hopes. But

THE APOSTLES. 139
it is clear that these conditions could not apply to a very
large society. When entire countries becarae Christian
ized, the systera of the first churches becarae a Utopian
idea only partially realized in monasteries, and the mor
nastic life in this sense was the continuation of the primi
tive churches.'* The convent is the necessary consequence
of the Christian spirit ; • there is no perfect Christianity
without the convent, because it is only there that the
evangelical idea can, be realized.
A large share of .the credit, certainly, of these great
creations should be given to Judaism. Each one ofthe
Jewish communities scattered along the shores of the
Mediterranean was already a sort of church, with its
charitable treasury. Almsgiving, always recommended
by the elders,'" was a recognised precept; it was prac
tised in the temple and in the synagogues,'* and it was
deemed the first duty of the proselyte." In every age
Judaism was noted for its careful attention to the poor,
and the fraternal charity which it inspired.
It would be highly unjust to hold up Christianity as a
reproach to Judaism, since to the latter primitive Chris-
ti9,nity owes almost everything. It is when we look upon
the Eoman world that we are the raost astonished at the
' miracles of charity perforrned by the Church. Never
did a profane society, recognising only right for its basis,
produce such admirable effects. The law of every pro
fane, or, if I may say so, every philosophic system of
society, is liberty, sometimes equality, but never frater
nity. To charity, viewed as a right, it acknowledges no
obligations; it only pays attention to individuals; it
finds charity often inconvenient, and neglects it. Every
attempt to apply the public funds to the aid of the poor

140 THE APOSTLES.
savors of communism. When a man dies of hunger,
when entire classes languish in misery, the policy of the
profane social system limits itself to acknowledging that
the fact is unfortunate. It can easily show that there is
no civil order without liberty ; now, as a consequence of
liberty, he who has nothmg, and can get nothing,
perishes from hunger. That is indeed logical ; 'but there
is no guard against the abuse of logic. The necessities
of the most numerous class always result in dispensing
with it. Institutions purely political and civil are not
enough ; social and religious aspirations claim a religious
satisfaction. The glory of the Jewish people is, that
they boldly proclaimed this principle. The Jewish law
is social, and not political ; the prophets, the authors of
the Apocalypses, were the promoters of social and poli
tical revolutions. In the first half of the first century,
in the presence of profane civilization, the absorbing idea
of the Jews was to repel the benefits of the Eoman sys
tem, with its philosophy, democracy, and equality, and
to proclaim the excellence of their theocratic law. " The
law is happiness," was the idea of such Jewish thinkers
as Philon and Josephus. The laws of other people were
intended to secure justice, and had nothing to do with
the goodness and happiness of man ; while on the other
hand, the Jewish law descended to the details of moral
education. Christianity is only the development of this
idea. Each church is a raonastery where all possess
rights over all the others ; where there should be neither
poor nor wicked ; and where, consequently, every indi
vidual is careful to guard and restrain himself. Primi
tive Christianity may be defined as a vast association
of poor people ; as a heroic struggle against egotism.

THE APOSTLES. 141
founded upon the. idea that no one has a right to more
than is absolutely necessary for him, and that all the
superfluity belongs to those who possess nothing. It
will at once be seen that with such- a spirit and the Eoman
spirit war to the death must ensue ; and that Christianity,
on its part, can never dominate the world without im
portant modifications of its native tendencies and its
original programrae.
But the needs which it represents will always last.
The communistic life during the second half of the
Middle Ages, serving for the abuses of an intolerant
Church, the raonastery having becorae a mere feudal
fief, or the barracks for a dangerous and fanatic railitary
modern feeling, became bitterly opposed to the cenobitic
system. We have forgotten that it was in the commu
nistic life that the soul of man experienced its fullest
joy. The song, " Oh, how good and joyful a thing it
is for brethren to dwell together in unity,"** has ceased
to be our refrain. But when raodern individualism
shall have borne its latest fruits, when humanity,
shrunken and saddened, shall also have become weak
and impotent, it will return to these great institutions
and stern disciplines ; when our material society — ^I
should say our world, of pigmies — shall have been
scourged with whips by the -heroic and the idealistic,
then the communistic systera will regain all its force.
Many great things, such as science, will be organized
under a monastic forra. Egotism, the essential law of
civil law, of civil society, will be insufficient for great
minds ; all coming, from whatever point of view, will be
opposed to vulgarity. The words of Jesus and the
ideas ofthe Middle Ages in regard to poverty will again

142 THE APOSTLES.
be appreciated. It will be understood that the posses
sion of anything implies an inferiority, and that the
founders of the mystic life disputed for centuries as to
whether Jesus owned even that which he used for his
daily wants. The Franciscan subtleties will become
again great social problems. The splendid ideal de
vised by the author of the Acts will be inscribed as
a prophetic revelation at the gates of the paradise of
humanity : " And the multitude of them that believed
were of one heart and one soul ; neither said of them
that aught of the things which he possessed was his
own, but they had all things in coraraon, neither was
any araong them that lacked : for -as many as were
possessors of land or houses sold them, and brought
the price of the things that were sold, and laid them
down at the apostles' feet, and distribution was made
unto every man, according as he had need. And they
continuing with one accord in the temple and breaking
bread from house to house, did eat their meat with
gladness and singleness of heart."*'
Let us not anticipate events. It is now about the
year 36. Tiberius at Caprea could have no more doubt
that a formidable enemy to the empire was growing up.
In two or three years the new sect had made surprising
progress ; now counted several thousands of adherents.*'
It was easy to foresee that its conquests would be chiefly
among the Hellenists and proselytes. The Galilean
group, which had heard the Master, though preserving
its precedence, seemed alraost lost in the current of new-
coraers who spoke Greek. At the tirae of which we
speak, no heathen, that is to say, no raan who had hot
held previous relations with Judaisra, had entered into

THE APOSTLES. 143
the Church ; but proselytes perforraed important func
tions in it. The jurisdiction of the disciples had also
largely extended, and was no longer simply a little college
of Palestineans, but included people of Cyprus, Antioch,
and Cyrene, and of almost all the points on the eastern
shore of the Mediterranean where Jewish colonies had
been established. Egypt alone knew nothing of the primi
tive Church, and for a long time reraained ignorant.
The Jews of that country were almost in a state of
schism with those of Judea. They had custoras of their
own, superior in many points to those of Palestine, and
were almost entirely unaffected by the great religious
movement at Jerusalem.

CHAPTEE VIIL
FIEST PEESECUTION.  ^DEATH OF STEPHEN.  DESTEUCTION
OF THE FIEST CHUECH OF JEEUSALEM.
It was inevitable that the preachings of the new sect,
even while they were disseminated with much reserve,
should revive the animosities ¦which had accumulated
against its Founder, and had ultimately resulted in His
death. The Sadducee family of Hanan, which had caused
the death of Jesus, was still reigning. Joseph Caiaphas
occupied, up to the year 86, the sovereign Pontificate,
the effective power of which he left to his father-in-law
Hanan, and to his relations, John and Alexander.' These
arrogant and pitiless personages saw with impatience a
troop of good holy men, without any official position,
gaining the favor of the crowd.' Once or twice Peter,
John, and the principal members of the apostolical col
lege, were thrust into prison and condemned to be beaten.
This was the punishment inflicted on heretics.* The
authorization of the Eomans was not necessary for its
infliction. As may well be supposed, these brutalities
did but excite the ardor of the apostles. They came
forth frora the Sanhedrira, where they had just under
gone flagellation, full of joy at having been deemed
worthy to undergo contumely for Him whom they
loved.* Eternal puerility of penal repressions, applied
to things of the soul ! They passed, no doubt, for men
of order, for raodels of prudence and wisdom, these

THE APOSTLES. 145
blunderers, who seriously believed in the year 36 they
could put down Christianity with a few whippings !
These outrages were -perpetrated principally by the
Sadducees,' that is to say by the upper clergy, who sur
rounded the temple, and derived thence immense pro-
flts.* It does not seem that the Pharisees displayed to
wards the sect the animosity they showed to "Jesus.
The new believers were people pious and strict in their
manner of life, not a little like the Pharisees themselves.
The rage which the latter felt against the' Founder sprang
from the superiority of Jesus — a superiority which He
took no pains to disguise. His delicate sarcasms. His
intellect, the charm there was about Him, His hatred to
hypocrites, had enkindled a savage ire. The apostles,
on the contrary, were destitute of wit; they never em
ployed irony. The Pharisees were at certain moments
favorable to them ; many Pharisees- even became Chris
tians.' The terrible anathemas of Jesus against Phari
saism had not yet been written, and tradition of the
words of the Master was neither general nor uniform.*
These first Christians were, moreover, people- so inof
fensive, that many persons of the Jewish aristocracy,
without exactly forming part of the sect, were well dis
posed towards them. Nicodemus and Joseph of Ari
mathea, who had known Jesus, remained, no doubt,
linked in bonds of brotherhood with the Church. The
raost celebrated Jewish Doctor of the times, Eabbi
Gamaliel the Elder, grandson of Hillel, a man of broad
and very tolerant ideas, gave his opinion, it is said, in
the Sanhedrim in favor ofthe freedom of Gospel preach
ing.' The author of The Acts puts into his mouth some
excellent reasoning, which ought to be the rule of con-
7

146 THE APOSTLES.
duct for Governments whenever they find themselves
confronted with novelties in the intellectual or moral
order. " If this work is frivolous, leave it alone, it will
fall of itself; if it is serious, how dare you resist the
work of God ? In any case you will not succeed in
stopping it." Gamaliel was but little heeded. Liberal
minds in the midst of opposing fanaticisms have no
chance of success.
A terrible exciteraent was provoked by the Deacon
Stephen.'* His preaching had, as it seems, great success.
The crowd flocked around him, and these gatherings re
sulted in some lively disputes. It was mostly Hellenists,
or proselytes, attendants at the synagogue of the Liber-
iini,^^ as it was called — people of Gyrene, of Alexandria,
of Cilicia, of Ephesus, who were active in these disputes.
Stephen passionately maintained that Jesus was the
Messiah ; that the priests had committed a crime in put
ting him to death ; that the Jews were rebels, sons of
rebels, people that denied evidence. The authorities
resolved to destroy this audacious preacher ; witnesses
were suborned to watch for sorae word in his discourses
against Moses. Naturally they found what they sought
for. Stephen was arrested and taken before the San
hedrim. The word with which he was reproached was
nearly the same as that which led to the condemnation
of Jesus." He was accused of saying that Jesus of Naza
reth would destroy the temple, and change the traditions
attributed to Moses. It is very possible, in fact, that
Stephen had used such language. A Christian of this
epoch would not have had any idea of speaking directly
against the law, since all still observed it ; but as to tra
ditions, Stephen might combat them as Jesus himself

THE APOSTLES. 147
had done. Now these traditions were foolishly ascribed
to Moses by the orthodox, and an equal value was attri
buted to them as to the written law.'*
Stephen defended himself by expounding the Christian
thesis, with copious citations from the law, from the
Psalms, fi'om the prophets, and terminated by reproaching
the members ofthe Sanhedrim with the homicide of Jesus.
" 0 blockheads ! and uncircumcised in heart," said he to
them, " you will then ever resist the Holy Ghost, as your
fathers also have done. Which of the prophets have not
your fathers persecuted ? They have slain those who
announced the coming of the Just One, whom you have
betrayed, and of whom you have been the raurderers.
This law that you had received from the raouth of
angels'* you have not kept." At these words a cry of
rage interrupted him. Stephen, becoming more and
more exalted, fell into one of those paroxysms of enthu
siasm that are called the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.
His eyes were fixed on high ; he saw the glory of God
and Jesus beside his Father, and cried out : " Behold, I
see the heavens opened, and the Son of Man sitting on
the right hand of God." All the listeners stopped their
ears and threw themselves upon him, gnashing their
teeth. They dragged him outside the city and stoned
him. The witnesses who, according to the law," had to
cast the first stones, took off their garments and laid
thera at the feet of a young fanatic named Saul, or Paul,
¦who was thinking with secret joy of the merits which
he was acquiring in participating in the death of a
blasphemer.'* In all this there was a literal observance of the pre
scriptions of Deuteronomy, Chap. 13. But looked at

i 48 THE APOSTLES.
from the point of view of the civil law, this tumultuous
execution, accomplished without the concurrence of the
Eoraans, was not regular." In the case of Jesus, we have
seen that the ratification of the Procurator was needed..
Perhaps his ratification was obtained in Stephens' case,
and his execution may not have followed quite so closely
upon his sentence as t'he narrator of the Acts would have
it. Possibly, however, the Eoman authority was then
somewhat relaxed in Judea. Pilate had just been sus
pended from his functions, or was on the point of being
so. The cause of this disgrace was simply the too great
firmness he had shown in his administration. Jewish
fanaticism had rendered life unbearable to him. Very
likely he was tired of refusing these madmen the violence
they demanded of him, and the proud family of Hanan
had come to have no longer any need of permission iu
order to pronounce sentence of death. Lucius Vitellius
(the father of hira who was eraperor) was then imperial
legate of Syria. He sought to win the good graces of
the population ; and he had the pontifical vestments which,
since the tirne of Herod the Great, had been deposited in
the town of Antonia, returned to the Jews." Far from
sustaining Pilate in his acts of rigor, he gave ear toHhe
complaints of the native citizens, and sent Pilate back to
Eome to reply to the accusations of his subordinates
(beginning of the year 36). The principal grievance of
the latter was that the Procurator would not lend him
self with sufficient complaisance to their desires — ^intole
rant desires." Vitellius replaced him provisionally by
his friend Marcellus, who was no doubt more careful not
to displease the Jews, and consequently raore ready to
indulge thera with religious raurders. The death of Ti-

THB APOSTLES. 119
berius (16th March in the year 37) only encouraged Vi
tellius in his policy. The two first years of- the reign of
Caligula were an epoch of general enfeeblement of the
Eoraan authority in Syria. The policy of this prince,
before he lost his wife, was to restore to the people of
the East their autonomy and native chiefs. Thus he es
tablished the kingdoms or principahties of Antiochus, of
Comagene, of Herod Agrippa, of Soheym, of Cotys, of
Polemon IL, and allowed that of Hareth to aggrandize
itself." When Pilate arrived at Eome, he found the new
reign already begun. It is probable that Caligula de
cided against him, since he confided the government of
Jerusalem to a new functionary, Marcellus, who appears
not to have excited on the part of the Jews the violent
recriminations which overwhelmed the unfortunate Pi
late with embarrassment and filled him with chagrin.
At any rate, the important remark is this : that at the
epoch of which w^'are treating the persecutors of Chris
tianity were not Eomans; they were orthodox Jews.
The Eomans preserved, in the midst of this fanaticism, a
principle of tolerance and of reason. If there is anything
for which the imperial authority is to be reproached, it is
for having been too weak, and not having cut short at
the outset the civil consequences of a sanguinary law
pronouncing the pain of death for religious offences. But
the Eoman doraination had not yet become a complete
power, as it was at a later day ; it was a sort of protecto
rate or suzerainty. Its complaisance was carried even to
the extent of withholding the effigy of the Emperor from
the coins struck under the procurators, in order not to
shock Jewish ideas.'* Eome did not yet seek, at least
not in the East, to impose on conquered peoples her

150 THE APOSTLES.
laws, her gods, her manners ; she left them in their local
practices outside the Eoman law. Their semi-independ
ence was but another sign of their inferiority. The Im
perial power in the East at this epoch pretty closely
resembled the Turkish authority, and the government of
the native populations that of the Eajahs. The idea of
equal rights and equal guarantees for all did not exist.
Each provincial group had its own jurisdiction, as at this
day the various Christian churches and the Jews in the
Ottoman Empire. A few years ago, in Turkey, the
patriarchs of the various comraunities of Eajahs, provided
they were on good terras with the Porte, were sovereign
in regard to their subordinates, and could pronounce
against them the most cruel punishments.
As the period of the death of Stephen may fluctuate
between the years 36, 37, and 38, we do not know
whether Caiphas ought to bear the responsibility of it.
Caiphas was deposed by Lucius Vitfellius in the year
36, shortly after Pilate ;'* but the change was slight.
He was succeeded by his brother-in-law, Jonathan, son
of Hanan. The latter in his turn was succeeded by
his brother Theophilus, son of Hanan," who kept the
Pontificate in the house of Hanan till the year 42.
Hanan was still alive, and possessor of the real power
maintained in his faraily — the principles of pride, of
severity, of hatred to innovators, which were in a raanner
hereditary in it.
The death of Stephen produced a great impression.
The converts solemnized his funeral in the midst of
tears and groans.'* The separation between the new
sectaries and Judaism was not yet absolute. The
proselytes and the Hellenists, less strict in the matter

THE APOSTLES. 151
of orthodoxy than the pure Jews, felt that they ought
to render public homage to a man who had been an
honor to their body, and whose peculiar opinions had
not shut him out frora the pale of the law.
Thus dawned the era of Christian raartyrs. Martyr-
dora was not a thing entirely new. To say nothing of
John Baptist and of Jesus, Judaisra, at the epoch of
Antiochus Epiphanus, had had its witnesses faithful
unto the death. But the series of brave victiras which
opens with St. Stephen has exercised a peculiar influ
ence upon the history of the human mind. It intro
duced into the western world an element which was
wanting to it, absolute and exclusive Faith — this idea,
that there is but one good and true religion. In this
sense, the martyrs began the era of intolerance. It
raay be said, with great probability, that any one who
gives his life for his faith would be intolerant if he were
raaster. Christianity, after it had passed through three
centuries of persecutions and became in its turn domi
nant, was more persecuting than any religion had ever
been. When we have poured out our own blood for a
cause, we are but too strongly led to shed the blood
of others for the conserva'tion of the treasure we have
won. The murder of Stephen was not, moreover, an iso
lated fact. Taking advantage of the weakness of the
Eoraan functionaries, the Jews brought a real perse
cution" to bear down upon the Church. It seeras that
the vexations pressed hardest upon the Hellenists and
the proselytes whose free tendencies enraged the ortho
dox. The Church of Jerusalera, already so strongly
organized, was obliged to disperse. The apostles, ac-

152 THE APOSTLES.
cording to a principle which seems to have taken strong
hold of their minds,'* did not leave the city. It was
probably so with all the purely Jewish group, with
those who were called the "Hebrews."" But the
great coraraunity, with its raeals in coraraon, its diaconal
services, its varied exercises, ceased thenceforth, and
was never again reconstructed upon its first raodel. Jt
had lasted three or four years. It was for nascent
Christianity an unequalled good fortune that its flrst
atterapts at association, essentially communist, were so
soon broken up. Atterapts of this kind engender
abuses so shocking, that coraraunist establishments are
condemned to crumble away in a very short time,** or
very soon to ignore the principle on which they are
created.*' Thanks to the persecution of the year 37,
the cenobitic Church of Jerusalem was saved from the
test of tirae. It fell in its fiower, before interior diffi
culties had undermined it. It remained like a splendid
dream, the meraory of which aniraated in their life of
trial all those who had formed part of it, like an ideal
to which Christianity will incessantly aspire to return,
without ever succeeding.*' Those who know what an
inestimable treasure for the members still existing of
the St. Simonian Church is the memory of Monilmon-
tant, what friendship it creates between them, what
joy gleams from their eyes as they speak of it, will
comprehend the powerful link established between the
new brethren by the fact of having loved and then suf
fered together. Great lives have nearly always to
remember a few months during which they felt God —
months which, though existing only in meraory, delight
all the after years of their lives.

THE APOSTLES. 153
The leading part, in the persecution we have just
. recounted, was played by that young Saul whora we
have already found contributing, as far as in him lay, to
the murder of Stephen. This furious man, furnished with
a permission, from the priests, entered into houses sus
pected of concealing Christians, took violent hold of
men and woraen, and dragged thera into prison or be
fore the tribunals.** Saul prided hiraself on there beirig
no one of his generation so zealous as hiraself for the tra
ditions.** Often, it is true, the mildness, the resignation
of his victims astonished him ; he experienced a sort
of remorse ; he iraagined hearing these pious women,
hoping for the Kingdom of God, whom he had thrown
into prison, say to him during the night, with a gentle
voice : " Why persecutest thou us ? " The blood of
Stephen, by which he was almost literally stained,
soraetiraes disturbed his vision. Many things he had
heard said of Jesus went to his Jieart. This superhu
raan being, in his ethereal life, whence he soraetiraes
issued to reveal hiraself in short apparitipns, haunted
hira like a spectre. But Saul repulsed such thoughts
with horror ; he confirraed hiraself with a sort of frenzy
in the faith of his traditions, and he was drearaing of
new cruelties against those who attacked them. His
name had become the terror of the faithful ; the fiercest
outrages, the most sanguinary perfidies, were dreaded
at his hands.*^ 7*

CHAPTEE IX.
FIEST MISSIONS.  PHILIP THE DEACON.
The persecution of the year 37 had for its result, as
always happens, the expansion of the doctrine it was
wished to arrest. Until then the Christian preaching
had scarcely extended beyond Jerusalera; no mission
had been undertaken ; inclosed within its lofty but
narrow communion, the mother Church had not radi
ated around itself nor formed any branches. The dis
persion of the little supper-table scattered the good seed
to the four winds. The members of the Church of
Jerusalem, violently driven from their quarters, spread
themselves throughout Judea and Samaria,' and preached
everywhere the kingdora of God. The deacons in par
ticular, disengaged frora their administrative functions
by the ruin of the Community, became excellent evan
gelists. They were the active young element of the
sect, in opposition to the somewhat heavy element con
stituted by the apostles and the " Hebrews." One single
circumstance, that of language, would have sufficed to
create in these latter an inferiority in respect to preach
ing. They spoke, at least as their habitual tongue, a
dialect which the Jews themselves did not use at a few
leagues distance from Jerusalem. It was to the Hellen
ists that fell all the honor of the grand conquest, the re
cital of which is henceforth to be our principal object.
The theatre of the first of these missions, which was

THE APOSTLES. 155
destined soon to embrace all the basin of the Mediterra
nean, was the region round about Jerusalem, within a
circle of two or three days' journey. Philip the Dea
con ' ' was the hero of this^ first holy expedition. He
evangelized Samaria with great success. The Samaritans
were schismatics; but the young sect, after the example
of their Master, was less susceptible than the rigorous
Jews upon questions of orthodoxy. Jesus, it was said,
had shown Himself on different occasions not altogether
unfavorable to the Samaritans.*
Philip appears to have been one of the apostolical
men most preoccupied with theurgy.* The accounts
which relate to him carry us into a strange and fantastic
world. It is by prodigies that are explained the conver
sions which he made among the Samaritans, and in par
ticular at Sebaste, thmr capital. This country was
itself filled with superstitious ideas about magic. In the
year 36, that is to say two or three years before the ar
rival of the Christian preachers, a fanatic had excited
quite a serious emotion among the Samaritans by preaching
the necessity of returning to primitive Mosaism, of
which he pretended to have found the sacred utensils.'
A certain Simon, of the village of Gitta, or Gitton,* who
afterwards rose to a great reputation, began about that
time to make himself known . by his wonderful opera
tions.' It is painful to see the Gospel finding a prepara
tion and a support in such chimeras. Quite a large
multitude were baptized in the name of Jesus. Philip
had the power of baptizing, but not that of conferring
the Holy Ghost. This privilege was reserved to the
apostles. When the tidings came to Jerusalem of the
formation of a group of believers at Sebaste, it was re-

156 THE APOSTLES.
solved to send Peter and- John to complete their initia
tion. The two apostles came, laid their hands upon
the new converts, prayed over their heads ; the latter
were immediately endowed with raarvellous powers at
tached to the conferring of the. Holy Ghost. Miracles,
prophecy, all the phenomena of illuminism, were pro
duced, and the Church of Sebaste had nothing on this
score to envy that of Jerusalem.*
If we are to believe tradition about it, Simon of Git
ton was thenceforth in relations with the Christians.
Converted according to their reports by the preaching
and the miracles of Philip, he was baptized and attached
himself to this evangelist. Then, when the apostles
Peter and John had come, and he saw the supernatural
powers procured by the laying on of hands, he came, it
is said, to offer them raoney in srder that they should
give him also the faculty of conferring the Holy Ghost.
Peter then made hira this adrairable reply : " Thy raoney
perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift
of God may be bought 1 Thou hast neither part nor lot
in this raatter, for thy heart is not right in the sight of
God."' Whether these words were pronounced or not, they
seera to trace exactly the situation of Simon in regard
to the nascent sect. We shall see, in fact, that accord
ing to all appearances, Simon of Gitton was the chief
of a religious movement parallel to that of Christianity,
one whicii may be regarded as a sort of Samaritan
counterfeit of the work of Jesus. Had Simon already
begun to dograatize and to work wonders wheu Philip
arrived at Sebaste ? Did he thenceforward enter into
relations witli the Christian Church ? Is there any

THE APOSTLES. 157
reality in the anecdote which raakes of him the father
of all " simony? " Must we admit that the world one
day saw face to face two thaumaturgists, oue a charlatan
and the other the " corner-stone," which became the foun
dation of the faith of humanity ? Was a conjuror' able
to balance himself against the destinies of Christianity ?
We know not, for want of docuraents ; for the account
of the Acts is here of feeble authoritj'' ; and from the
first century Simon became for the Christian Church a
subject of legends. In history the general idea alone
is pure. It would be unjust to dwell on anything we
may see to be shocked at in this sad page of the origin
of Christianity. For vulgar hearers the miracle proves
the doctrine ; for us the doctrine causes the rairacle to
be forgotten. When a belief has consoled and araelio-
rated humanity, it is excusable for having employed
proofs proportioned to the weakness of the public whom
it addressed. But when one has proved error by error,
what excuse is there to allege ? This is not a condem
nation we here pronounce against Simon of GittOn.
We shall have to explain further on this doctrine, and
the part he had to play, which only made itself clear
under the reign of Claudius.'* It is necessary only to
reraark here, that an important principle seeras to have
been introduced through him into the Christian the
urgy. Obliged to adrait that irapostors also worked
miracles, orthodox theology attributed these rairacles
to the devil. In order to retain sorae deraonstrative
value in prodigies, rules had to be iraagined for distin
guishing true frora false miracles. Orthodoxy descended
for this purpose to an order of ideas exceedingly puerile.
Peter and John, after having confirmed the Church

158 THE APOSTLES.
of Sebaste, set out again for Jerusalem, on their return
evangelizing the villages of the country of the Samari
tans." Philip the Deacon continued his evangelizing
travels, bending his steps towards the south, towards
the ancient country of the Philistines.'* This country,
since the advent of the Maccabees, had received a
strong infusion of the Jewish element;'* although
Judaism was still by no raeans dorainant there. During
this journey Philip accomplished a conversion which
made some noise, and which was much talked about on
account of a particular circumstance. One day as he
was going along the road from Jerusalem to Gaza, quite
a deserted road," he met a rich traveller, evidently a
foreigner, for he was riding in a fchariot, a mode of
locomotion which was at all times alraost unknown to
the inhabitants of Syria and Palestine. He was return
ing from Jerusalem, and gravely seated, he was reading
the Bible aloud, according to a custom then quite
common.'* Philip, who thought that in everything his
actions were guided by an inspiration from on high,
felt hiraself drawn towards his chariot. He placed
himself alongside of it, and quietly entered into con
versation with the opulent personage, offering to explain
to him the passages which he did not understand.
This was a fine occasion for the evangelist to develop
the Christian thesis upon the figures of the Old Testa
ment. He proved that in the prophetic books everything
related to Jesus ; that Jesus was the solution of the great
enigma ; that it was of Him in particular that the All-
Seeing had spoken in this fine passage : " He was led
as a sheep to the slaughter; as a lamb that is duirib
before its shearers, he opened not his mouth."" The

THB APOSTLES. 159
traveller believed him, and at the first water that they
raet, " Behold, here is water," said he, " why could I
not be baptized?" The chariot was stopped; Philip
and the traveller descended into the water, and the
latter was baptized.
Now the traveller was a powerful personage. He
was a eunuch of the Candace of Ethiopia, her Minister
of Finance, and guardian of her treasures, who had
corae to worship at Jerusalera, and was now returning to
Napata'* by way of Egypt. Candace, or Candaoce, was-the
title of feminine royalty in Ethiopia towards the period
in which we now are." Judaism had consequently pe
netrated into Nubia and Abyssinia.'* Many natives were
converted, or at least counted among those proselytes
who, without being circumcised, adored the one only
God." The eunuch was perhaps of this latter class, a
siraple, pious pagan, like the centurion Cornelius, who
will shortly figure in this history. It is impossible in
any case to suppose that he was corapletely initiated
into' Judaisra." After this we hear nothing more said
about the eunuch. But Philip related the incident, and
further on much iraportance was attached to it. When
the question of the admission of pagans into the Chris
tian Church became the leading business, there was
found here a precedent of great weight. Philip was
deemed to have acted in all this affair by Divine inspi
ration.'* This baptism, given by order of the Holy
Ghost, to a man scarcely a Jew, notoriously uncircura-
cised, who had believed in Christianity only for a few
hours, ha^ an erainent dogmatic value. It was an ar
gument for those who thought that the doors of the new
Church ought to be open to all.'*

16,0 THE APOSTLES,
Philip after this adventure, made his appearance at
Ashdod, or Azote. Such was the state of artless enthu
siasm in which these missionaries lived, that at each
step they believed they heard voices from Heaven and
received directions from the Spirit." Each of their
steps seeraed to thera regulated by a superior force ;
and when they went from one city to another, they
thought they were obeying a supernatural inspi
ration. Sometimes they imagined they made aerial
voyages. Philip was in this respect one of the most
exalted. It was on the indication of an angel, as he
believed, that he came from Samaria to the place
where he 'met the eunuch ; after the baptism of the
latter, he was persuaded that the Spirit lifted him up
and carried him direct to Azote.'*
Azote and the Gaza road were the lirait of the first
Gospel preaching towards the south. Beyond were
the desert and the nomadic life upon which Chris
tianity has ever taken but very slight hold. From
Azote, Philip the Deacon hurried towards the nc^th,
and evangelized all the coast as far as Cesarea. Per
haps the Churches of Joppa g,nd of Lydda, which we
shall soon find flourishing," were founded by him.
At Cesarea he settled and founded an important
church.'* We shall meet him there again twenty
years later." Cesarea was a riew city, and the most
considerable in Judea.** It had been built on the site
of a Sidonian fortress called " Abdastarte's or Strato's
Tower," by Herod the Great, who gave to it, in honor
of Augustus, the name which its ruins bear even to
this day. Cesarea was by much the best port in all
Palestine, and tended from day to day to become its

THE APOSTLES. 161
capital. Tired of living at Jerusalem, the Procurators
of Judea were soon going to make it their habitual resi
dence.*' -It was peopled chiefly by pagans ;*' the Jews,
however, were quite numerous there, and severe disputes
often took place between the two classes of the popu
lation.** The Greek language was alone spoken there,
and- the Jews, themselves had come to recite certain
parts of their liturgy in Greek.** The austere Eabbis
of Jerusalem looked upon Cesarea as a profane and
dangerous abode, in which one became very nearly a
pagan.** From all the reasons which have just been
cited, this city will be of much importance in the
sequel of our history. It was in a manner the port of
Christianity, the point by which the Church of Jeru
salera communicated with all the Mediterranean.
Many other missions, the history of which is un
known to us, were conducted side by side with that of
Philip.**,*. The very rapidity with whicii this first
preaching was accomplished was the cause of its success.
In the year 38, five years after the death of JesuS, and
one perhaps after the death of Stephen, all Palestine
on-the higher side of Jordan had heard the glad tidings
from the mouth of missionaries sent out from Jerusa
lem. Galilee, on its side, kept the holy seed and pro
bably spread it around, although we know nothing of
any missions issuing from this country. Perhaps the
city of Damascus, which, frora the epoch at which we
have arrived, also had its Christians,*' received the
faith from Galilean pre^achers.

CHAPTEE X.
CONVEESION OF ST. PAUL.
But the year 38 is marked in the history of the nascent
Church by a new and iraportant conquest. It was during
that year' that we may safely place the conversion of that
saint whom we saw a participant in the stoning of
Stephen, and a principal agent in the persecution of 37,
and who now, by a mysterious act of grace, becomes the
most ardent of the disciples of Jesus.
Saul was born at Tarsus, in Cilicia,* in the year 10 or
12 of our era.' According to the manner of that day, his
name was Latinized into that of Paul;* yet he did not re
gularly adopt this last name until he became the apostle
of the Gentiles.' Paul was of the purest Jewish blood.*
His family, probably originally from the town of Gischala,
in Galilee,' professed to belong to the tribe of Benjamin ;'
and his father enjoyed the title of Eoman citizen,* no
doubt inherited from ancestors who had obteined that
honor either through purchase or through services ren
dered to tbe state. Perhaps his grandfather had obtained
it for aid given to Pompey during the Eoraan conquest
(63 B.C.). His family, like most of the old and solid
Jewish houses, belonged to the sect of Pharisees." Paul
was reared according to the strictest principles of this
sect," and though he subsequently repudiated its narrow
dogmas, he always retained its asperity, its exaltation,
and its ardent faith.

THE APOSTLES. 163
During the epoch of Augustus, Tarsus was a very
flourishing city. The population, though chiefly of the
Greek and Aramaic races, included, as was common in
all the commercial towns," a large nuraber of Jews.
The taste for letters and the sciences was a marked cha
racteristic of the place ; and no city in the world, not even
excepting Athens and Alexandria, was so rich in scienti
fic institutions and schools.'* The number of learned
men which Tarsus produced, or who pursued their studies
there, was truly extraordinary ;'* but it should not there
fore be imagined that Paul received a careful Greek edu
cation. The Jews rarely frequented the institutions of
secular instruction." The raost celebrated schools of
Tarsus were those of rhetoric,'* where the Greek classics
received the first attention. It is hardly probable that a
raan who had taken even elementary lessons in gramraar
and rhetoric would have written in the incorrect non-
Hellenistic style of the Epistles of St. Paul. He talked
habitually and fluently in Greek," and he wrote or rather
dictated'? in that language ; but his Greek was that of
the Hellenistic Jews, a Greek replete with Hebraisms and
Syriacisms, scarcely intelligible to a lettered man of that
period, and which can only be accounted for by his Syriac
turn of mind. He himself recognised the coraraon and
defective character of his style." Whenever it was possi
ble he spoke Hebrew — that is to say, the Syro-Chaldaic
of his tirae.'* It was in this language that he thought,
and it was in this language that he was addressed by the
mysterious voice on the road to Daraascus."
Nor did his doctrine show any direct adaptation made
from Greek philosophy. The verse quoted from the
Thais of Menander, that occurs in his writings,^ is one

164 THE APOSTLES.
of those versified proverbs which were familiar to the
public, and could easily have been quoted by one who
had not read the original. Two other quotations —
one from Epimenides, the other frora Aratiis — which
appear under his narae,'* although it is not certain that
he used them, raay also be explained as having been
borrowed at second-hand.'* The literary training of
Paul was almost exclusively Jewish," and it is in the
Talmud rather than in the Greek classics that the analogies
of his ideas must be sought. A few general ideas of
wide-spread philosophy, which one could learn without
opening a single book of the philosophers," alone reached
hira. His raanner of reasoning was very curious. He
certainly knew nothing of the peripatetic logic. His
syllogism was not at all that of Aristotle ; but on the con
trary his dialectics greatly resembled those of the Talmud.
Paul, as a general thing, was influenced by words rather
than by ideas. When a word took possession of his mind it
suggested a train of thought singularly irrelevant to the
subject in question. His transitions were sudden, his
developments interrupted, his conclusions frequently sus
pended. Never was a writer raore unequal. One may
seek in vain throughout the realm of literature for a phe
nomenon as bizarre as that of a sublime passage like the
thirteenth chapter of the First Epistle to the Corinthians
by the side of feeble arguments, laborious repetitions, and
fastidious subtleties.
His father early intended that he should be a Eabbi ;
" but, according to the general custom," gave him a trade.
Paul was an upholsterer, '* or rather a raanufacturer of
the heavy cloths of Cilicia, which were called Cilicium.
At various times he worked at this trade," for he had no

THE APOSTLES. IGo
patrimonial fortune. It seems quite certain that he had
a sister whose son lived at Jerusalem.** In regard to a
brother*' and other relatives,*' who it is said had em
braced Christianity, the indications are very vague and
uncertain. Eefinement of manners being, according to
some modern ideas, in direct relation to personal wealth,
it might be iraagined from what has just been said, that
Paul was a man of the people, badly educated .and with
out dignity, This opinion would, however, be thorough
ly erroneous. His politeness was often extreme, and his
manners were exquisite. Notwithstanding the defects in
his style, his letters show that he was a man of rare
intelligence,** who formed for his lofty sentiments ex
pressions of rare felicity ; and no correspondence exhibits
more careful attentions, finer shades of meaning, and
more amiable hesitancies and timidity. One or two of
his pleasantries- shock us.** But what animation I What
a wealth of charming sayings 1 What simplicity ! It is
easy to see that his character, at the times when his pas
sions do not raake hira ifaseible and fierce, is that of a
polite, earnest, and affectionate man, sometimes suscepti
ble, and a little jealous. Inferior as such men are before
the general public,*' they possess within small sects. im
mense advantages, through the attachments they inspire,
through their practical aptitude, and through their skill
in arranging difficult matters.
Paul was small in size, and his personal appearance
did not correspond with the greatness of his soul. He
was ugly, stout, short, and stooping, and his broad
shoulders awkwardly sustained a little bald head. His
sallow countenance was half hidden in a thick beard ;
his nose was aquiline, his eyes piercing, and his eye-

166 THE APOSTLES.
brows heavy** and joined across his forehead. Nor
was there anything iraposing in his speech,*' for his
timid and embarrassed air gave but a poor idea of his
eloquence.** He shrewdly, however, adraitted his exte
rior defects, and even drew advantage therefrom.*' The
Jewish race possesses the peculiarity of at the same
time presenting types of the greatest beauty, and the
most thorough ugliness ; but this Jewish ugliness is
something quite apart by itself. Some of the strange
visages which at first excite a smile, assume, when
lighted up by emotion, a sort of deep brilliancy and
grandeur. The temperament of Paul was not less singular than
his exterior. His constitution was not healthy, though
at the sarae tirae its endurance was proved by the way
in which he supported an existence full of fatigues and
sufferings. He raakes incessant allusions to his bodily
weakness. He speaks of hiraself as a man sick and
' bruised, timid, ¦w'ithout prestige, without any of those
personal advantages calculated to make an effect, and
altogether so uninviting that it was 'surprising that he
did not repel people.** Besides this, he hints with mys
tery at a secret trial, " a thorn in the fiesh," which he
compares to a messenger of' Satan sent to buffet him,
" lest he should be exalted above measure."*' Thrice he
besought the Lord to deliver him, and thrice the Lord
replied, " My grace is sufficient for thee." This was
apparently some bodily infirmity ; for it is not possible
to suppose that he refers to the attractions of carnal
delights, since he himself informs us elsewhere that he
was insensible to them.*' It appears that he was never
married ;** the entire coldness of his temperament, the

THE APOSTLES. 167
consequence of the unequalled ardor of his brain,
showed itself throughout his life, and he boasts of it
with an assurance savoring, perhaps, of affectation,
and which, certainly, seeras to us rather unpleasant.**
He came to Jerusalem,*' it is said, at an early age, and
entered the school of Gamaliel the Elder.** This Gama
liel was the most enlightened man in Jerusalem. As the
name of Pharisee was applied to every prominent Jew
who was not of a priestly faraily, Gamaliel passed for a
member of that sect. Yet he had none of its narrow and
exclusive spirit, and was a liberal, intelligent man, tole
rant of the heathen, and acquainted with Greek. Per
haps, indeed, the large ideas professed by Paul after he
received Christianity, were a reminiscence of tbe teach
ings of his first master ; it must, however, be admitted
that at first he did not learn much moderation frora hira.
An extrerae fanaticisra was then prevalent in Jerusalem.
Paul was the leader of a young and rigorous Pharisee
party, most warmly attached to the national traditions of
the past.*' He did not know Jesus,** nor was he present
at the bloody scene of Golgotha ; but we have seen him
take an active part in the murder of Stephen, and among
the foremostof thepersecutorsof theChurch. He breathed
only threatenings and slaughter, and furiously passed
through Jerusalem bearing a mandate which authorized
and legalized all his brutalities. He went frora syna
gogue to synagogue, forcing the raore timid to deny the
name of Jesus, and subjecting others to scourging or
imprisonment.*' When the Church of Jerusalem was
dispersed, his persecutions extended to the neighboring
cities ;'* and exasperated by the progress ofthe new faith,
and having learned that there was a graap of the faithful

168 THE APOSTLES.
at Damascus, he obtained from the high-prie.st Theophilus,
son of Hanan," letters to the synagogue of that city,
which conferred on* hira the power of arresting all evil-
thinking persons, and of bringing them bound in cords to
Jerusalem." The disarrangement of Eoman authority in Judea
explains these arbitrary vexations. The half mad Cali
gula was in power, and the administrative service
was everywhere disturbed. Fanaticism had gained all
that the civil power had lost. After the dismissal of
Pilate, and the concessions -made to the natives by
Lucius Vitellius, the country was allowed to govern
itself according to its own laws. A thousand local
tyrannies profited by the weakness of the decaying
power. Daraascus had just passed into the hands of
Hartat, or Hareth, whose capital was at Petra.'* Tbis bold
and powerful prince, after having beaten Herod Antipas,
and withstood the Eoman forces commanded by the im
perial legate Lucius Vitellius, had been marvellously aided
by fortune. The news of the death of Tiberius had sud
denly arrested the march of Vitellius.'* HSreth seized
Damascus, and established there an ethnarch or gover
nor." The Jews at that time were a numerous party at"
Damascus, where they carried on an extensive system of
proselytizing, especially among the females." It was
deemed advisable to make them contented ; the best
method of doing so was to allow concessions to their
autonomy, and every concession was siraply a permission
to commit further religious violences." To punish and
even kill those who did not think as they did, was their
idea of independence and liberty. Paul, in leaving
Jerusalem, followed without doubt the usual road, and

THE APOSTLES. 169
crossed the Jordan at the " Bridge of the Daughters of
Jacob." His mental excitement was at its greatest
height, and he was alternately troubled and depressed.
Passion is not a rule of faith. The passionate man flies
from one extreme creed to another, but always retains
the same impetuosity. Now, like all strong minds, Paul
quickly learned to love that which he had hated. Was
he surp, after all, that he was not thwarting the design
of God? Perhaps he remembered the calm, just views
of his master Gamaliel.'* Often these ardent souls ex
perience terrible revulsions. He felt the charms of those
whom he had tortured," and the better he knew these
excellent sectarians the better he liked them ; and than
their persecutor none had greater opportunities of know
ing them well. At times he saw the sweet face of the
Master who had inspired His disciples with so much pa
tience, regarding hirn with an air of pity and tender
reproach. He was also much impressed by the accounts
of the apparitions of Jesus, describing him as an aerial
being ; for at the epochs and in the countries when and
where there is a tendency to the marvellous, miraculous
recitals influence equally each opposing party. The
Mahoraraedans, for instance, were afraid of the miracles
of Elias ; and like the Christians, invoked supernatural
cures inthe names of St. George and St. Anthony. Having
crossed Ithuria, and while in the great plain of Damascus,
Paul, with several companions, all journeying on foot,**
approached the city, and had probably already reached
the beautiful gardens which surround it. The time was
mid-day.*'
. The road from Jerusalem to Damascus has in nowise
changed. It is that one which, leaving Damascus in a
8

170 _ THE APOSTLES.
south-easterly direction, crosses the beautiful plain
watered by the strearas flowing into the Abana and Phar-
par, and upon which are now marshalled the villages of
Darey a, Kankab, and Sasa. The exact locality of which
we speak, and which was the scene of one of the most
iraportant facts in the history of huraanity, could not
have been beyond Kankab (four hours frora Damas
cus).*' It is even probable that the point in qi^estion
was much nearer the city, at about Dareya (an hour
and a half from Daraascus), or between Dareya and
Meidan.** The great city lay before Paul, and the out
lines of several of its edifices could be diraly traced
beyond the thick foliage ; behind him towered the ma
jestic dome of Hermon, with its furrows of ,snow,
making it resemble the bald head of au old man ; upon
his right were the Hauran, the two little parallel
chains which inclose the lower course of the Pharpar,"
and the tumuli of the region of the lakes ; and upon
his left were the outer spurs of the Anti-Libanus
stretching out to join Mt. Hermon. The impression
produced by these richly cultivated fields, by these
beautiful orchards, separated the one from the other
by trenches and laden with the most delicious fruits,
is that of peace and happiness. Let one imagine to
hiraself a shady road -passing through the rich soil
crossed at intervals by canals for irrigation, bordered
by declivities and winding through forests of olives,
walnuts, apricots, and prunes, these trees draped by
graceful festoons of vines, and there will be presented
to the mind the image of the scene of that remarkable
event which has exerted so wide an infiuence upon the
faith of the world.

THE APOSTLES. 171
In these environs of Damascus*' you could scarcely
believe yourself in the East ; and above all, after leav
ing the arid and burning regions of the Gaulonitide
and of Ithuria, it is joy indeed to meet once more the
works of man and the blessings of Heaven. From the
raost reraote antiquity until the present day there has
been but one narae for this zone, which surrounds
Damascus with freshness and health, and that name is
the " Paradise of God."
If Paul there met with terrible visions, it was because
he carried them in his heart. Every step in his jour
ney towards Damascus awaked in him afflicting per
plexities. The odious part of executioner, which he
was about to perform, becarae insupportable. The
houses which he just saw through the trees, were per
haps those of his victims. This thought beset him and
delayed his steps ; he did not wish to advance ; he
seemed to be resisting a mysterious infiuence which
pressed him back.** ¦ The fatigue of the journey,*'
joined to this preoccupation of the raind, overwhelmed
him. He had, it would seem, inflamed eyes,** probably
the beginning of ophthalmia. In these prolonged jour
neys, the last hours are the most dangerous. All the
debilitating causes of the days just past accumulate,
the nerves relax their power, and reaction sets in. Per
haps, also, the sudden passage frora the sun-sraitten
plain to the cool shades of the gardens heightened his
suffering condition*' and seriously excited the fanatical
traveller. Dangerous fevers, accorapanied by delirium,
are always sudden in these latitudes, and in a few
minutes the victira is prostrated as by a thunder-stroke.
When the crisis is over, the sufferer retains only the

172 THE APOSTLES.
impression of a period of profound darkness, crossed
at intervals by dashes of light or of images outlined
against a dark background.'* It is quite certain that a
terrible stroke instantly deprived Paul of his remain
ing consciousness, and threw him senseless on the
ground. It is impossible, with the accounts which we have had
of this singular event," to say whether any exterior
fact led to the crisis to which Christianity owes its most
ardent apostle. In such cases, moreover, the exterior
fact is of but little importance. It was the state of St.
Paul's mind, it was his remorse on his approach to the
city where he was to corarait the most signal ofhis mis
deeds, which were the true causes of his conversion." I
much prefer, for my part, the hypothesis of an affair
personal to Paul, and experienced by him alone.'* The
incident, nevertheless, was not wholly unlike a sudden
storm. The flanks of Mt. Hermon are the point of for
mation for thunder-showers unequalled in violence.'*
The most unirapressible people cannot observe without
emotion these terrible showers of flre. It should be
remembered that in ancient times accidents from light
ning strokes were considered divine relations; that
with the ideas regarding providential interference then
prevalent, nothing was fortuitous ; and that every man
was accustomed to view the natural phenomena around
him as bearing a direct relation to himself individually.
The Jews in particular always considered that thunder
was the voice of God, and that lightning was the fire
of God. Paul at this moment was in a state of lively
excitement, and it was but natural that he should inter
pret as the voice of the storm the thoughts really pass-

THB APOSTLES. 173
ing in his mind. That a delirious fever, resulting from
a sun-stroke or an attack of ophthalmia, had suddenly
seized him ; that a flash of lightning blinded him for a
tirae ; that a peal of thunder had produced a cerebral
commotion, temporarily depriving hira of sight — ^nothing
of this occurred to his mind. The recollections of the
apostle on this point appeared to be considerably con
fused ; he was persuaded that the incident was super
natural, and this conviction would not permit him to
entertain any clear consciousness of material circum
stances. Such cerebral commotions produce soraetiraes
a sort of retroactive effect, and greatly perturb the re
collections of the moments immediately preceding the
crisis." Paul, moreover, elsewhere informs us himself
that he was subject to visions ; '* and this circumstance,
insignificant as it may be to others, is sufficient to show
that for the tirae being he was deraented.
And what did he see, what did he hear, while a prey
to these hallucinations? He saw the countenance
which had haunted hira for several days ; he saw the
phantom of which so much had been said. He saw
Jesus Himself, who spoke to hira in Hebrew, saying,
" Saul, Saul, why, persecutest thou me ? " Impetuous
natures pass immediately from one extreme to the
other." For them there exist solemn moments and
crucial instants which change the course of a lifetime,
and which colder natures never experience. Eefiective
men do not change, but are transformed; while ardent
raen, on the contrary, change and are not transformed.
Dogmatism is a shirt of Nessus which they cannot tear
off. They must have a pretext for loving and hating.
Only our western races have been able to produce

174 THE APOSTLES.
those minds — ^large yet delicate, strong yet flexible —
which no empty affirmation can mislead, and no mo
mentary illusion can carry away. The East has never
had men of this description. Instantly, the most thrill
ing thoughts rushed upon the soul of Paul. Alive to
the enormity of his conduct, he saw hiraself stained
with the blood of Stephen, and this martyr, appeared
to him as his father, his initiator into the new faith.
Touched to the quick, his sentiments experienced a re
vulsion as thorough as it was sudden ; and yet all this
was but a new order of fanaticism. His sincerity and
his need of an absolute faith prevented any raiddle
course ; and it was already clear that he would one day
exhibit in the cause of Jesus the same fiery zeal he had
shown in persecuting Him.
With the assistance of his companions, who led him
by the hand,'* Paul entered Damascus. His friends took
him to the house of a eertain Judas, who lived in the
street called Straight, a grand colonnaded avenue over a
mile long and a hundred feet broad, which crossed the city
from east to west, and the line of which yet forms, with a
few deviations, the principal artery of Damascus." The
transport and excitement of his brain** had not yet sub
sided. For three days Paul, a prey to fever, neither ate
nor drank:. It is easy to imagine what passed during this
crisis in that brain maddened by violent disease. Men
tion was made in his hearing of the Christians of Da
mascus, but especially of a certain Ananias who appeared
to be the chief of the community.*' Paul had often
heard of the miraculous powers of new believers over
maladies, and he became seized by the idea that the
imposition of hands would cure him of his disease. His

THE APOSTLES. 175
eyes all this time were highly inflamed, and in his deli
rious imaginations*' he thought he saw Ananias enter the
room and raake a sign familiar to Christians. From that
moment he was convinced that he should owe his re
covery to Ananias. The latter, informed of this, visited
the sick man, spoke kindly, addressed him as his
"brother," and laid his hands upon his head ; and from
that hour peace returned to the soul of Paul. He be
lieved himself cured ; and as his ailment had been purely
nervous, he was so. Little crusts or scales, it is said, fell
from his eyes ;** he again partook of food and recovered
his strength.
Alraost immediately after this he was baptized.**
The doctrines of the Church were so simple that he had
nothing new to learn, but was at once a Christian' and a
perfect one. And from whom else did he need instruc
tion ? Jesus Himself had appeared to him. He too, like
James and Peter, had had his -vision of the risen Jesus.
He had learned everything by direct revelation. Here
the fierce and uijconquerable nature of Paul was made
manifest. Smitten down on the public road, he was will
ing to subrait, but only to Jesus, to that Jesus who had
left the right hand of the Father to convert and instruct
him. Such was the foundation of his faith ; and such
will be the starting-point of his claims. He will main
tain that it was by design that he did not go to Jerusalera
iraraediately after his conversion, and place himself in
relations with those who had been apostles before him ;
he will maintain that he has received a special revelation,
for which he is indebted to no human agency ; that, like
the twelve, he is an apostle by divine institution and by
direct coraraission fi-ora Jesus ; that his doctrine is the

176 THE APOSTLES.
true one, although an angel frora heaven should say to
the contrary.** An iraraense danger finds eritrance
through this proud man into the little society of poor in
spirit who until now had constituted Christianity. It
will be a real miracle if his violence and his inflexible
personality does not burst forth. But at the sarae time
his boldness, his initiative force, his prompt decision, will
be precious elements beside the narrow, timid, and inde
cisive spirit of the saints of Jerusalem I Certainly, if
Christianity had remained confined to these good people,
shut up in a conventicle of elect, leading a communistic
life, it would, like Essenism, have faded away, leaving
scarcely a trace. It is this ungovernable Paul who will
secure its success, and who at the risk of every peril will
lift on high its holy banner. By the side of the obedient
faithful, accepting his creed without questioning his su
perior, there will be a Christian disengaged from all
authority who will believe only from personal conviction.
Protestantism thus existed five years after the death of
Jesus, and St. Paul was its illustrious founder. Jesus
had no doubt anticipated such disciples ; and it was such
as these who would raost largely contribute to the vitality
of His work and insure its eternity. Violent natures
inclined to proselytisra, only change the object of their
passion. As ardent for the new faith as he had been
for the old, St. Paul, like Omar, in one day dropped his
part of persecutor for that of apostle. He did not return
to Jerusalem,** where his position towards the twelve
would have been peculiar and delicate. He tarried at
Damascus and in the Hauran*' for three years (38-41),
preaching that Jesus was the Son of God.** Herod
Agrippa I. held the sov3reignty of the Hauran and the

THE APOSTLES. 177
neighboring countries; but his power was at several
points superseded by that of a Nabatian king, Harath.
The decay of the Eoman power in Syria had delivered
to the ambitious Arab the great and rich city of Damas
cus, besides a part of the countries beyond Jordan and
Hermon, then just ope<ning to civilization.*' Another
emir, most probably Soheym,'* a relative or lieutenant of
HSrath, had received from Caligula the commandi of
Ithuria. It was in the midst of this great awakening of
the Arab nation," upon a foreign soil where an energetic
race manifested its fiery activity, that Paul first showed
the brilliancy of his apostolic soul." Perhaps the ma
terial yet dazzling raoveraent which revolutionized the'
country was prejudicial to a theory and preaching wholly
idealistic, and founded on a belief of a speedy end of the
world. Indeed, there exists no trace of an Arabian
church founded by St. Paul. If the region of the Hau
ran becarne, towards the year 70, one of the most import
ant centres of Christianity, it was owing to the emigra
tion of Christians from Palestine ; and it was really the
Ebionites, the enemies of St. Paul, who had in this region
their principal establishment.
At Damascus, w^here there were many Jews,'* the
teachings of Paul received more attention. In the syna
gogues of that city he entered, into vigorous arguments
to prove that Jesus was the Christ. Great indeed
was the astonishment of the faithful on beholding him
who had persecuted their brethren at Jerusalem, and
who had come to Damascus " to bring themselves bound
unto the chief-priests," now appearing as their leading
defender.'* His audacity and personal characteristics
almost alarmed them. He was alone; he sought no
8*

178 • THE APOSTLES.
counsel ;" he established no school ; and the emotions he
excited were those of curiosity rather than of sympathy.
The faithful felt that he was a brother, but a brother
marked by singular peculiarities. They believed him in
capable of treachery ; but amiable and mediocre natures
always experience sentiments of mistrust and alarm
when brought in contact with powerful and original
minds, whom they acknowledge as their superiors, and
who they know must surpass them.

CHAPTEE XI.
PEACE AND INTEEIOE DEVELOPMENTS OF THE CHUECH OF
JUDEA.
Feom the year 38 to the year 44 no pei-secution seems
to have weighed upon the Church.' The faithful, no
doubt, were far raore prudent than before the
death of Stephen, and avoided speaking in pub
lic. Perhaps, also, the troubles of the Jews who,
during all the second part of the reign of Caligula,
were' at variance with that prince, contributed to
favor the- nascent sect. The Jews, in fact, were
active persecutors in proportion to the good under
standing they maintained with the Eomans. To buy
or to recompense their tranquillity, the latter were
led to augment their privileges, and in particular that
one to which they clung raost closely — the right of kill
ing persons whora they regarded as unfaithful to their
law.' Now the period at which we have arrived was
one of the raost stormy of all in the turbulent history
of this singular people.
The antipathy which the Jews, by their raoral supe
riority, their odd custoras, and also by their severity,
excited in the populations among whom they lived,
was at its height, especially at Alexandria.* This accu
mulated hatred took advantage, for its own satisfaction,
of the coming to the imperial throne of one of the
most dangerous madmen that ever wore a crown.

180 THE APOSTLES.
Caligula, at least after the malady which consummated
his mental derangement (October 37), presented the
frightful spectacle of a maniac governing the world
with the most enormous powers ever put into the hands
of any raan. The disastrous law of Csesarism rendered
such horrors possible, and left thera without reraedy.
This lasted three years and three raonths. One cannot
without sharae narrate in a serious history that which
is now to follow. Before entering upon the recital of
these saturnalia we cannot but exclaim with Suetonius :
Rdiqua ut de monstro narranda sunt.
The most inoffensive pastime of this madraan was
the care of his own divinity.* In this he used a sort of
bitter irony, a mixture of the serious and the comic
(for the monster was not wanting in wit), a sort of pro
found derision of the human race. The eneraies of the
Jews were not slow to perceive the advantage they
might derive from this mania. The religious abase
ment of- the world was such that not a protest was
heard against the sacrilege of the Csesar ; every worship
hastened to bestow upon him the titles and the honors
which it had reserved for its gods. It is to the eternal
glory of the Jews that, in the raidst of this ignoble
idolatry, they uttered the cry of outraged conscience.
The principle of intolerance which was ,in thera, and
which led them to so many cruel acts, showed here its
bright side. Alone affirming their religion to be tha
absolute religion, they would not bend to the odious
caprice of the tyrant. This was the source of untold
troubles for them. It needed only that there should be
in any city some raan discontented with the synagogue,
spiteful, or simply mischievous, to bring about fright-

THE APOSTLES. 181
ful consequences. At one time the people would insist
on erecting an altar to Caligula in the very place where
the Jews could least of all suffer it.' At another, a
troupe of ragamuffins would collect, hooting and crying
out against the Jews for alone refusing to place the
statue of the eraperor in their houses of prayer ; then
the people would run to the synagogues and the ora
tories ; they would install there the bust of Caligula ;*
and the unfortunate Jews were placed in the alterna
tive of either renouncing their religion, or committing
treason. Thence followed frightful vexations.
Such pleasantries, had been several times repeated,
when a still more diabolical idea was suggested to the
emperor. This was to place a colossal golden statue of
himself in the sanctuary of the temple at Jerusalem, and
to have the teraple itself dedicated to his own divinity.'
This odious intrigue had very nearly hastened by thirty
years the revolt and the ruin of the Jewish nation. The
moderation of the imperial legate, Publius Petronius,
and the intervention of King^ Herod Agrippa, favorite
of Caligula, prevented the catastrophe. But until the
moment in which the sword of Chsersea delivered the earth
from the most execrable tyrant it had as yet endured,
the Jews lived everywhere in terror. Philo has preserved
for us the unheard-of scene which occurred when the de
putation of which he was the chief was admitted to see the
emperor.* Caligula received them during a visit he was
paying to the villas of- Mseoenas and of Lamia, near the
sea, in the environs of Pozzuoli. He was on that day
in a vein of gaiety. Helicon, his favorite joker, had
been relating to him all sorts of buffooneries about the
Jews. " Ah, then, it is you," said he to them with a bit-

182 THE APOSTLES.
ter sraile and showing his teeth, " who alone will not re
cognise me for a god, and prefer to adore one whose
name you cannot even utter 1 " He accorapanied these
words with a frightful blasphemy. The Jews trembled ;
their Alexandrian eneraies were the first to take up the
word : " You would still raore, 0 Sire, detest these peo
ple and all their nation, if you knew the aversion they
have for you ; for they alone have refused to offer sacri
fices for your health when all other people did so ! "
At these words, the Jews cried out that it was a ca
lumny, and that they had three tiraes off'ered for the pros
perity of the eraperor the most solemn sacrifices known
to their religion. " Yes," said Caligula, with a very
coriiical seriousness, "you have sacrificed, and so far,
well ; but then it was not to me that you sacrificed.
What advantage do I derive from it?" Thereupon,
turning his back upon thera, he strode through the apart
ments, giving orders for repairs, incessantly going up and
down stairs. The unfortunate deputies, and among them
Philo, eighty years of age, the most venerable man of
the time, perhaps — Jesus being no longerliving — followed
him up and down out of breath, trembling, the object
of derision to the asserabled company. Caligula turning
suddenly, said to them : " By the by, why will you not
eat pork ? " The flatterers burst into laughter ; some of
the officers, with a severe tone, reminded them that they
offended the majesty of the eraperor by immoderate
laughter. The Jews stammered ; one of them awkward
ly said: "There are some persons who do not eat lamb."
" Ah ! " said the emperor, " they have go6d reason ;
lamb is insipid." Some time after, he made a show of
inquiring into their business ; then, when speaking had

THE APOSTLES. 183
just begun, he left them and went off to give orders
about the decoration of a hall which he wanted to have
furnished with polished stones. He returned, affecting
an air of moderation, and asked the deputation if they
had anything to add ; and as the latter resumed their in
terrupted discourse, he turned his back upon ' thera to
go and see another hall which he was ornamenting with
paintings. This game of tiger sporting with its prey
lasted for hours. The Jews were expecting death ; but
at the last moment the claws of the beast relaxed.
"Well," said Caligula, while repassing, "these folks
are decidedly less guilty than pitiable for not believ
ing in ray divinity." Thus could the gravest ques
tions be treated under the horrible regimen created by
the baseness of the world, cherished by a soldiery and a
populace about equally vile, and maintained by the dis
soluteness of nearly all.
We can easily understand how so oppressive a situa
tion must have taken from the Jews of the tirae of
Marcellus much of that audacity which raade them
speak so proudly to Pilate. Already alraost entirely
detached frora the teraple, the Christians must have
been much less alarmed than the Jews at the sacrile
gious projects of Caligula. They were, raoreover, too
little numerous for their existence to be kriown at Eome.
The storra of the time of Caligula, like that which
i-esulted in the taking of Jerusalem by Titus, passed
over their heads, and was in many regards serviceable
to them. Everything which weakened Jewish inde
pendence was favorable to them, since it was so much
taken away from the power of a suspicious orthodoxy,
raaintaining its pretensions by^ severe penalties.

184 THE APOSTLES.
This period of peace was fruitful in interior develop
ments. The nascent Church was divided into three
provinces : Judea, Samaria, Galilee', to which Daraascus
was no doubt attached. The primacy of Jerusalem was
uncontested. The Church of this city, which had been
dispersed after the death of Stephen, was quickly
reconstituted. The Apostles had never quitted the
city. The brothers of the Lord continued to reside
there, and to wield a great authority.'* It does not
seem that this new Church of Jerusalem was organized
in so rigorous a raanner as the first ; the coraraunity of
goods was not strictly reestablished in it. But there
was founded a large fund for the poor, to which were
added the contributions sent by rainor churches to the
mother church, the origin and perraanent source of
their faith."
Peter undertook frequent apostolical journeys in the
environs of Jerusalem." He always enjoyed a great
reputation as a thaumaturgist. At Lydda'* in particu
lar he passed for having cured a paralytic named .^Eneas,
a miracle which is said to have led to nuraerous con
versions in the plain of Saron.'* From Lydda he
repaired to Joppa," a city which appears to have been
a centre for Christianity. Cities of workmen, of sailors,
of poor people, where the orthodox Jews were not
dorainant, were those in which the new sect found the
best dispositions. Peter raade a long sojourn at Joppa,
at the house of a tanner named Simon who dwelt near
the sea." Working in leather was an industry almost
unclean, according to the Mosaic code ; it was not law
ful to visit too frequently those who carried it on, so that
the curriers had to live jn a district by themselves."

THE APOSTLES. 185
Peter, in choosing such a host, gave a proof of his indif
ference to Jewish prejudices, and worked for that
ennoblement of petty callings which constitutes a noble
feature of the Christian spirit.
The organization of works of charity was soon ac
tively pursued. The church of Joppa possessed a woman
admirably named in Aramaic, Tabitha (gazelle), and in
Greek, Dorcas,^^ who consecrated all her cares to the
poor." She was rich, it seems, and distributed" her
wealth in alms. This worthy lady had formed a society
of pious widows, who spent their days with her in weav
ing clothes for the poor.'* As the schism between
Christianity and Judaism was not yet consummated, it is
probable that the Jews shared in the benefit of these
acts of charity. The " saints and widows "" were thus
pious persons, doing good to all, a sort of friars and
nuns, whom only the most austere devotees of a pedantic
orthodoxy could suspect, fraticelli, loved by the people,
devout, charitable, full of pity.
The germ of those associations of women, whioh are
one of the glories of Christianity, thus existed in the
first churches of Judea. At Jaffa commenced that
series of the veiled women, clothed in linen, who were
destined to continue through centuries the tradition of
charitable acts. Tabitha was the mother of a faraily
which will have no end as long as there are raiseries to
be solaced and good ferainine instincts to assuage them.
It is related further on, that Peter raised her from the
dead. Alas ! death, utterly senseless, utterly revolting
as it is in such a case, is inflexible. When the most ex
quisite soul has evaporated, the decree is irrevocable ;
the most excellent woman can no more respond to the in-

186 THE APOSTLES.
vitation of the friendly voices which would fain recall her,
than can the vulgar and frivolous. But ideas are not
subject to the conditions of matter. Virtue and good
ness escape the fangs of death. Tabitha had no need to
be resuscitated. For the sake of three or four days
more of this sad life, why disturb her sweet and eternal
repose ? Let her sleep in peace ; the day of the just will
come! In these very mixed cities, the problem of the admis
sion of pagans to baptism was propounded with much
urgency. Peter was strongly preoccupied with it. One
day while he was praying at Joppa, on the terrace of
the tanner's house, having before him this sea that was
soon going to bear the new faith to all the empire, he
had a prophetic ecstasy. Plunged into a state of dreamy
reverie, he thought he experienced a sensation of hunger,
and asked for something to eat. Now while they were
making it ready for him, he saw the heavens opened, and
a cloth tied at the four corners come down thence.
Looking inside the cloth he saw there all sorts of ani
mals, and thought he heard a voice saying to him : " Kill
and eat." .And on his objecting that many of these
animals were impure, he was answered: "Call not that
unclean which God has cleansed." This, as it appears,
was repeated three times. Peter was persuaded that
these animals represented the mass of the Gentiles, which
God Himself had just rendered fit for the -holy commu
nion of the kingdom of God."
An occasion was soon presented for applying these
principles. From Joppa, Peter repaired to Cesarea.
There he came into relations with a centurion named
Cornelius.'* The garrison of Cesarea was formed, at

THE APOSTLES. • 1S7
least in part, of one of those cohorts composed of Italian
volunteers which were called lialiGoe.^ The complete name
for which this stood may have been cohors prima A-ugus-
tus Italica civium Romanorum?^ Cornelius was a centu
rion of this cohort, consequently an Italian and a Eoman
citizen. He was a man of probity, who had long felt
drawn towards the aconotheistic worship of the Jews.
He prayed, gave alms ; practised, in a word, those precepts
of natural religion" which are taken for granted by
Judaism ; but he was not circumcised ; he was not a
proselyte in- any degree whatever ; he was a pious pagan,
an Israelite in heart, nothing more.'* All his household
and some soldiers of his command were, it is said, in the
same state of mind." Cornelius applied for admission
into the new Church. Peter, whose nature was open
and benevolent, granted it to him, and the centurion was
baptized.^* Perhaps Peter saw at first no difficulty" in this ; ¦¦ but
on his return/ to Jerusalem he was severely reproached
i'or it. He had openly violated the law, he had gone
in among the uncircumcised and had eaten with them.
The question was an iraportant one ; it was no other than
whether the law were abolished, whether it was per
missible to violate it in proselytisra, whether Gentiles
could be received on an equal footing into the Church.
Peter, to defend hiraself, related the vision he had at
Joppa. Subsequently the fact of the centurion served
as an argument in the great question of the baptism
of the uncircumcised. To give it more force it was
supposed that each phase of this important business
had been marked by a revelation from Heaven. It was
related that after long prayers Cornelius had seen an

188 THE APOSTLES.
angel who ordered him to go and inquire for Peter at
Joppa ; that the symbolical vision of Peter took place
at the very hour of the arrival of the messengers from
Cornelius; that, moreover, God had taken it upon
Himself to legitimize all that had been done, seeing
that the Holy Ghost had descended upon Cornelius
and upon his household, the latter having spoken
strange tongues and sung psalras after the fashion of
the other believers. Was it natural to refuse baptism
to persons who had received the Holy Ghost ?
The Church of Jerusalem was still exclusively com
posed of Jews and of proselytes. The Holy Ghost
being shed upon the uncircumcised before baptism, ap
peared an extraordinary fact. It is probable that there
existed theijceforth a party opposed in principle to the
admission- of Gentiles, and that every one did not
accept the explanations of Peter. The author of the
Aet^ would have it that the approbation was unani
mous. But in a few years we shall see the question
revived with much greater intensity.*' The fact of
the good centurion was, perhaps, like that of the Ethi
opian eunuch, accepted as an exceptional one,- justi
fied by a revelation and an express order from God.
The matter was far from being settled. This was the
first controversy in the bosom of the Church ; the para
dise of interior peace had lasted six or seven years.
About the year 40, the great question on which
hung all the future of Christianity appears thus to
have been propounded. Peter and Philip took a very
just view of the true solution, and baptized pagans. It
is difficult, no doubt, in the two accounts given us by
the author of the Acts on this subject, and which are

THE APOSTLES. 189
partly sketched one from the other, not to recognise a
system. The author of the Acts belongs to a party of
conciliation, favorable to the introduction of pagans
into the Church, and who is not willing to confess the
violence of the divisions to which the affair gave rise.
One feels strongly that in writing the episodes of the
eunuch, of the centurion, and even of the conversion
of the Samaritans, this author means not only to nar
rate facts, but seeks especially precedents for a'n opi
nion. On the other hand, we cannot adrait that he
invents the facts which he narrates. The conversions
of the eunuch, of Candace, and of the centurion Corne
lius, are probably real facts, presented and transformed
according to the needs of the thesis in view of which
the book of the Acts was composed.
Paul, who was destined, some -ten or eleven years
later, to give to this discussion so decisive a bearing,
had not yet meddled with it. He was in the Hauran,
or at Damascus, preaching, refuting the Jews, placing
at the service of the new faith as much ardor as he
had shown in fighting against it. The fanaticism, of
which he had been the instrument, was not long in
pursuing him in his turn. The Jews resolved to de
stroy him. They obtained from the ethnarch, who gov-
•erned Damascus in the name of HSrath, an order to
arrest him. Paul hid himself. It was known that he
had to leave the city ; the ethnarch, who wanted to
please the Jews, placed detachraents at the gates to
seize his person ; bnt the brethren enabled him to
escape by night, letting him down in a basket from
the window of a house which overhung the ram
parts."

190 THE APOSTLES.
Having escaped this danger, Paul tumed his eyes
towards Jerusalera. He had been a Christian for three
years,** and had not yet seen the apostles. His rigid,
unyielding character, prone to isolation, had made him
at first turn his back as it were upon the great familj'-
into which he had just entered in spite of himself, and
prefer for his first apostolate a new country, in which
he would find no colleague. There was awakened in
him, however, a desire to see Peter.** He recognised
his authority, and designated him, as every one did, by
the name of Cephas, " the stone." He repaired then
to Jerusalem, taking the same road, but in an opposite
direction to that he had traversed three years before in
a state of mind so different.
His position at Jerusalem was extremely false and
embarrassing. It had been understood there, no doubt,
that the persecutor had becorae the raost zealous of
evangelists, and the first defender of the faith which
he had formerly sought to destroy.** But there reraained
great prejudices against hira. Many feared some hor
rible plot on his part. They had seen him so enraged,
so cruel, so zealous iu entering houses and rending open
faraily secrets in order to find victiras, that he was be
lieved capable of playing an odious farce in order to
destroy those whom he hated.** He stayed, as it seems,
in the house of Peter.*' Many disciples remained deaf
to his advances, and shrank from him.** A man of
courage and will, Barnabas, played at this moraent a
decisive part. As a Cyprian and a new convert, he
understood better than the Galilean disciples the position
of Paul. He came to meet him, took hira in a manner
by the hand, introduced him to the most suspicious,

THB APOSTLES. 191
and became his surety.*' By this act of wisdom and
penetration, Barnabas won at the hands of the Christian
world the highest degree of raerit. It was he who
appreciated Paul ; it was to him that the Church owes
the raost extraordinary of her founders. The fruitful
friendship of these two apostolic raen, a friendship that
uo cloud ever tarnished, notwithstanding raany differ
ences in opinion, afterwards led to their association in the
work of missions to the Gentiles. This grand association
dates, in one sense, from Paul's first sojourn at Jerusalera.
Among the causes of the faith of the world we must
count the generous raoveraent of Barnabas, stretching
out his hand to the suspected and forsaken Paul ; the
profound intuition which led hira to discover the soul
of an apostle under that humiliated air; the frankness
with which he broke the ice and levelled the obstacles
raised between the convert and his new brethren by
the unfortunate antecedents ofthe forraer, and perhaps,
also, by certain traits of his character.
'Paul, raeantime, systeraatically as it were, avoided
seeing the apostles. It is he himself says so, and he
takes the trouble to affirm it with an oath ; he saw only
Peter, and Jaraes the brother of the Lord.** His sojourn
lasted only two weeks.*' Assuredly it is possible that
at the epoch in which h6 wrote the Epistle to the Gala
tians (towards 56), Paul may have found himself led,
by the needs of the moment, to give some little coloring
to his relations with the apostles ; to represent them as
more harsh, more imperious, than they were in reality.
Towards 66 the essential point for hira to prove was
that he had received nothing frora Jerusalera — that he
was in no wise the mandatory of the Council of

192 THE APOSTLES.
Twelve established in this city. His attitude at Jeru
salem would have been the proud and lofty bearing of
a master who avoids relations with other masters iu
order not to have the air of subordinating himself to
them, and not the humble and repentant mien of a
sinner ashamed of the past, as the author of the Acts
represents. We cannot believe tliat from tho year 44
Paul was. animated by this jealous care to preserve his
own originality, which he showed at a later day. Tho
rarity of his interviews with the apostles, apd tlie
brevity of his sojourn at Jerusalem, arose probably
from his embarrassraent in the presence of people of
quite another nature than his own, and full of prejudices
against him, rather than from a refined polity, which
would have revealed to hira fifteen yeare in advance
the disadvantages there might hs in his frequenting
their society.
In reality, that which must have erected a sort of
wall between the apostles and Paul, was chiefly the
difference of their character and of -their education.
The apostles were all Galileans ; they had not been at
the great Jewish schools ; they had seen Jesus ; they
reraembered his words; they were good and pious
folk, at times a little solemn and simple-hearted.
Paul was a man of action, full of fire, only moderately
mystical, enrolled, as by a superior force, in a sect
which was not that of his firet adoption. Eevolt, protes
tation, were his habitual sentiments.*' His Jewish edu
cation was much superior to that of all his new brethren.
But not having heard Jesus, not having been appointed
by him, he had, according to Christian ideas, a great
inferiority. Now Paul was not made to accept any

THB APOSTLES. 193
secondary place. His haughty individuality demanded
a position for himself. It is probably towards this time
that there sprang up in his raind the proud idea that
after all he had nothing to envy those who had known
Jesus and had been chosen by him, since he also had
seen Jesus and had received from Jesus a direct revela
tion and the commission of his apostleship. Even those
who had been honored by the personal appearance to
them of the risen Christ, had no more than he had. Al
though the last, his vision had been no less remarkable.
It had taken place under circumstances which gave it
a peculiar mark of importance and of distinction.**
Signal error 1 The echo of the voice of Jesus was
found in the discourses of the humblest of His disciples.
With all his Jewish science, Paul could not make up
for the immense disadvantage under which he was
placed by his tardy initiation. The Christ whom he
had seen on the road to Damascus was not, whatever
he might say, the Christ of Galilee ; it was the Christ
of his imagination, of his own senses. Although he raay
have been most attentive to gather the words of the
Master,** it is clear that he was only a disciple at second
hand. If Paul had met Jesus during his life, it may be
doubtful whether he would have attached himself to
Him. His doctrine will be his own, not that of Jesus ;
the revelations of which he is so proud are the fruit of
his own brain.
These ideas, which he dared not as yet communicate,
rendered his stay at Jerusalem very disagreeable. At
tlie end of a fortnight he took leave of Peter and went
.away. He had seen so few people that he ventured to
say that iio one in the churches of Judea knew him by

194 THE APOSTLES.
sight, or knew aught of him, save by hearsay.*' At a
subsequent period he attributed this sudden departure
to a revelation. He related that being one day in the
temple praying, he was in an extasy, and saw Jesus in
person, and received from Him the order to quit Jeru
salera- iraraediately, " because they were not inclined to
recei^'^'his testiraony." In exchange for these hard
hearts, Jesus had proraised hira the apostolate of distant
nations, and an auditory raore .docile to his voice.**
Those who would fain hide the traces of the many
ruptures caused by the coraing of this insubordinate
disciple into the Church, pretended that Paul passed
quite a long time at Jerusalem, living with the brethren
on a footing of the most complete liberty ; but that,
having undertaken to preach to the Hellenist Jews,
he was very nearly killed by them, so that the brethren
had to watch over him and protect him, and finally
took him to Cesarea.*'
It is probable, in fact, that from Jerusalem he did
repair to Cesarea. But he stayed there only a short
time, and then set out to traverse Syria, and afterwards
Cilicia.** ' He was, no doubt, already preaching, but on
his own account, and without any understanding with
anybody. Tarsus, his native place, was his habitual
sojourn during this period of his apostolical life, which
we raay reckon as having lasted about two years.*' It
is possible that the churches of Cilicia owed their origin
to him.** Still, the life of Paul was not at this epoch
that which we see it to have been subsequently. He
did not assume the title of an apostle, which was then
strictly reserved to the Twelve." It was only from the
time of his association with Barnabas (year 45) that he

THE APOSTLES. 195
entered upon that career of sacred peregrinations and
preachings which made of him the type of the travelling
missionary.

CHAPTEE xn.
ESTABLISHMENT OF THE CHUECH OF ANTIOCH
The new faith was propagated frora one neighborhood
to another with astonishing rapidity. The mem
bers of the Church of Jerusalem who had been dis
persed iraraediately after the death of Stephen, push
ing their conquests along the coast of Phoenicia,
reached Cyprus and Antioch. They were as yet guided
by an unvarying principle of refusing to preach tlie
gospel to the Jews.' Antioch, " the raetropolis of tho
East," the third city of the world,' was the centre of this
Christendora of northern Syria. It was a city with a
population of raore than 500,000 souls, almost as large
as Paris before its recent extensions,* and the residence
of the Imperial Legate of Syria. Suddenly advanced
to a high degree of splendor by the Seloucidse, it
had only to profit by the Eoman occupation of it. In
general, the Seleucidse had surpassed the Eoraans in
the taste for theatrical decorations as applied to great
cities. Temples, aqueducts, baths, basilicas, nothing
was wanting at Antioch in what constituted a grand
Syrian city of that period. The streets fianked by
colonnades, with their cross-roads decorated with
statues, had there more of symmetry and regularity
- than anywhere else.* A Corso, ornamented with four
ranges of columns, forming two covered galleries with
a wide qvenue in the midst, crossed tho city from one

THE APOSTLES. 197
side to the other,^ the length of which was thirty-six
stadia (more than a league).* But Antioch not only
possessed immense edifices of public utility,' she had
that also which few of the Syrian cities possessed — the
noblest specimens of Grecian art, wonderfully beautiful
statues,' classical works of a delicacy of detail which
the age was no longer capable of imitating. Antioch,
from its foundation, had been altogether a Grecian
city. The Macedonians of Antigone and Seleucus
had imported into that country of the lower Orontes
their most lively recollections, their worship, and the
names of their country.' The Grecian mythology was
there adopted as it were in a second home ; they pre
tended to exhibit in the country a crowd of " holy
places " forming part of this mythology. The city was
full of the worship of Apollo and of the nymphs.
Daphne, an enchanting place two short hours distant
from the city, reminded the conquerors of the plea
santest fictions. It was a sort of plagiarism, a counter
feit of the myths of the mother country, analogous to
these adventurous transportations which the primitive
tribes carried with thera in their travels ; their mythi
cal geography, their Berecyntha, their Arnanda, their
Ida, and their Olympus. These Greek fables consti
tuted for them a very old religion, and one scarcely
more serious than the metamorphoses of Ovid. The
ancient religions of the country, particularly that of
Mount Cassius,'* contributed some little gravity to it.
But Syrian levity, Babylonian charlatanism, and all
the impostures of Asia, mingled at this limit of the
two worlds, had made Antioch the capital of lies and
the sink of every description of infamy.

198 THE APOSTLES.
Besides the Greek population, indeed, which in no
part of the East (with the exception of Alexandria)
was as numerous as here, Antioch numbered araongst
its population a considerable nuraber of native Syrians,
speaking Syriac.'^ These natives composed a low
class, inhabiting the suburbs of the great city and the
populous villages which formed a vast suburb" all
around it, Charandaraa, Ghisira, Gaudigura, and
Apate (chiefiy Syrian naraes).'* Marriages between
the Syrians and the Greeks' were coraraon. Seleucus
having forraerly made naturalization a legal obligation
binding on every stranger establishing himself in the
city, Antioch, at the end of three centuries and
a half of its existence, became one of the places
in the world where race was most intermingled with
race. The degradation of the people there was
terrible. The peculiarity of these focuses of moral
putrefaction is, to reduce all the races of mankind
to the sarae level. The degradation of certain Le
vantine cities, dominated by the spirit of intrigue,
delivered up entirely to low cunning, can scarce give us
a conception of the degree of corruption reached by
the human race at Antioch. It was an inconceivable
medley of merry-andrews, quacks, buffoons,'* magi
cians, miracle-mongers, sorcerers, priests, impostors ; a
city of "^ races, games, dances, processions, fStes, de
bauches, of unbridled luxury, of all the follies of the
East, of the most unhealthy superstitions, and of the
fanaticism of the orgy.'* By turns servile and un
grateful, cowardly and insolent, the people of Antioch
were the perfect model of those crowds devoted to
Caesarism, without country, without nationality, with-

THE APOSTLES. 199
out family honor, without a narae to keep. The great
Corso which traversed the city was like a theatre,
where rolled, day after day, the waves of a trifling,
light-headed, changeable, insurrection-loving" popu
lace — a populace sometimes spirituel^^ occupied with
songs, parodies, squibs, irapertinence of all sorts." The
city was very literary," but literary only in the litera
ture of rhetoricians. The sights were strange ; there
were some games in which bands of naked young
girls took part in all the exercises, with a mere fillet
around them ;" at the celebrated festival of Naiouma,
troupes of courtezans swarraed in public in basins'* filled
with lirapid water.'* This f§te was like an intoxica
tion, like a dream of Sardanapalus, where all the plea
sures, all the debaucheries, not excluding sorae of a
more delicate kind, were unrolled pell-mell. This
river of dirt, which, making its exit by the mouth of
the Orontes, was about to invade Eome," had here its
principal sources. Two hundred decurions were em
ployed in regulating the religious ceremonies and
celebrations.'* The municipality possessed great public
domains, the rents of which the decemvirs divided
between the poor citizens." Like all cities of pleasure,
Antioch had a lowest section of the people, living on
the public or on sordid gains. The beauty of works
of art and the infinite charra of nature'* prevented this
raoral > degradation from degenerating entirely into
ugliness and vulgarity. The site of Antioch is one of
the most picturesque in the world. The city occupied
the interval between the Orontes and the slopes of
Mount Silpius, one of the spurs of Mount Casius. No
thing could equal the abundance and beauty of the

200 THE APOSTLES.
watei-s." The fortified space, climbing up perpendicu
lar rocks, by a real master-work of military architec
ture,** inclosed the summit of the mountains, and
formed with the rocks at a tremendous height an in
dented crown of raarvellous effect. This disposition
of their ramparts, uniting the advantage of the ancient
acropoles with those of the great walled cities, was in
general preferred by the Generals of Alexander, as one
sees in the Pierian Seleucia, in Ephesus, in Smyrna, in
Thessalonica. The result was various astonishing per
spectives. Antioch had within its walls mountains
seven hundred feet in height, perpendicular rocks, tor
rents, precipices, deep ravines, cascades, inaccessible
caves ; in the midst of all these, delicious gardens."
A thick wood of myrtles, of flowering box, of laurels,
of plants always green — and of the most tender green
— rocks carpeted with pinks, with hyacinth, and cycla
mens, give to these wild heights the aspect of gardens
hung in the air. The variety of the flowers, tho fresh
ness of the turf, composed of an incredible number of
minute grasses, the beauty of the plane trees which
border the Orontes, inspire the gaiety, the tinge
of sweet scent with which the beautiful genius of
Chrysostom, Libanus, and Julian is, as it were, intoxi
cated. On the right bank of the river stretches a v£^gt
plain bordered on one side by tlie Amanus, and the
oddly truncated mountains of Pieria ; on the other side
by the plateaus of Chyrrestica,*' behind which is
hiddden the dangerous neighborhood of the Arab
and the desert. The valley of the Orontes, which
opens to the west, brings this interior basin into com
munication with the sea, or rather with the vast world

THM APOSTLKS. 201
in til© bosom of whioh the Mediterranean has consti
tuted tVoiu all time a sort of uouti>al highway aud fcnlo-
ml boud.
Amongst tho different colonies whioh the liberal ordi-
uanoes of the Seleucidai luul attraotod to the capital of
Syria, that' of the Jews was one of the most numerous j*^""
it dated firom the time of Seleuous Nioator, and waa go-
vornod by tho stune laws aa the Greeks,** Although tho
Jews had an ethnaixjh of their own, their relations with
the pagans were wry fivquent. Here, as at Alo.xtmdriu,
these mlatious olWu degenei'ated into quarrels and aggres
sions.* On tlie other hand, they atVonUxl a lleUi tor an
active religious propag-andism. The polythoism of the
oftieials bwomiug more aad moi"e iiisutUoicnt to moot tho
M-auts of soiious ptn-sons, the Gi^eoian and Jewish phi
losophies attracted all those whom tho vain pomps of
paganism ooald not satisfy. The nurabor of pixjselytes
was considerable. Prom the first days of Ohristianitj^,
Antioch had fViruishod to tho Church of Jerusalem one
of its most intluoutial moinboi-s, via. Nicolas, one of
the doawns.** Thoiv o.xistod there pjx>mising gvnus,
whioh only waited for a my of gmoo to bui-st iorth into
bloom aud boar the most excellent fixiits whioh had
hithorto boon produced.
The ciiurch of Aiitiwh owed it« foundation to somo
original bolioN'vi's fixMiv Cyprus and Oyiviu^ who had
alivady bwu seoalous iu pivaohingv^" Up to this time
thoy had only addix^ssoil thomsolvcs to tho .lows. But
iu a city whoiv puro Jows — .Vows who woro pi\>solytos,
" pov^plo tearing God" — iu> kdWows, half-pag-ans und puro
pagtuis, livtHl together,^ oouliuod proaohings, nvtriotod to
a group of housos, became impossiblo. That tktling of
9*

202 THE APOSTLES.
religious aristocracy on which the Jews of Jerusalem so
much prided themselves, had no existence in these large
cities, where civilization was altogether of the profane
sort, where the atmosphere was more expanded, and
where prejudices were less firmly rooted. The Cypriot
and Cyrenian raissionaries were then constrained to de
part from their rule. They preached to the Jews and
to the Greeks indifferently.
The reciprocal dispositions of the Jewish and of the
pagan population appeared at this time to have been
very unsatisfactory.** But circumstances of another
kind probably subserved the new ideas. The earth
quake, which had done serious damage to the city on
23d March, of the year 37, still occupied their minds.
The whole city was talking about an impostor named
Debborius, who pretended to prevent the recurrence of
such accidents by ridiculous talismans.*' This sufficed
to direct preoccupied minds towards supernatural mat
ters. However that raay have been, great was the suc
cess of the Christian preaching. A young, innovating,
and ardent Church, full of the future, because it was
composed of the most diverse elements, was quickly
founded. All the gifts of the Holy Spirit were there
poured out, and it was then easy to perceive that this
new Church, eraancipated frora the strict Mosaism which .
traced an irrefragable circle around Jerusalem, would
become the second cradle of Christianity. Assuredly,
Jerusalem will reraain for ever the capital ofthe Chris
tian world ; nevertheless, the point of departure of the
church of the Gentiles, the priraal focus of Christian
raissions, was, in truth, Antioch. It is there, for the' first
time, that, a Christian church was established, divorced

THE APOSTLES. 203
from the bonds of Judaism ; it is there that the great
propaganda of the Apostolic age was established; it
was there that St. Paul assumed a definite character.
Antioch marks the second halting-place of the progress
of Christianity, and in respect of Christian nobility, nei
ther Eome, nor Alexandria, nor Constantinople can be
at all compared with it.
The topography of ancient Antioch is so effaced
that we should search in vain over its site, nearly desti
tute as it is of any vestiges of the antique, for the point-
to which to attach such grand recollections. Plere, as
everywhere, Christianity was, doubtless, established in
the poor quarters of the city and among the petty
tradesfolk. ^ The basilica, which is called " the old "
and " apostolic " to the fourteenth century, was situ
ated in the street called Singon, near the Pantheon?**
But no one knows where this Pantheon was. Tradi
tion and certain vague analogies induced us to search
the primitive Christian quarter alongside the gate,
which even to-day is still, called Paul's gate, Bdb-bolos^
and at the foot of the mountain, naraed by Procopius
Stavrin, which overlooks the south-west coast from the
ramparts of Antioch.** It was one of the quarters of
the town which least abounded in pagan monuments.
There we saw the reraains of ancient sanctuaiaes dedi
cated to St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. John. There ap
peared to have been the quarter where Christianity
was longest maintained after the Mohammedan con
quest. There too, as it appeared, was the quarter of
" the saints," in opposition to the general profanity of
Antioch. The rock is honeycombed like a beehive,
with grottqep formerly used by the Anchorites. When

204 THE APOSTLES.
one walks on these steeply cut declivities, where, about
the fourth century, tke good Stylites, disciples at once
of India and of Galilee, of Jesus and of Cakya-Mouni,
disdainfully contemplated the voluptuous city from the
summit of their pillar or frora their fiower-adorned
cavern,** it is probable that one is not far frora the very
spots where Peter and Paul dwelt. The Church of
Atitioch is the one whose history is most authentic and
least encumbered with fables. Christian tradition, in
a city where Christianity was perpetuated with so
much vigor, ought to possess some value. The pre
vailing language of the Church of Antioch was the
Greek. It is, however, quite probable that the suburbs
where Syriac was spoken furnished a number of con
verts to the sect. In consequence, Antioch already
contained the germ of' two rival and, at a later period,
hostile Churches, the one speaking Greek, and now
represented by the Syrian Greeks, whether orthodox or
Catholics ; the other, whose actual representatives are
the Maronites, having previously spoken Syriac and
guarding it still as if it were a sacred tongue. The
Maronites, who under their entirely raodern Catholi
cism conceal a high antiquity, are probably the last
descendants of those Syrians anterior to Seleucus, of
those suburbans or pagani of Ghisra, Charandaraa,
etc.,*' who from the first ages becarae a separate Church,
were persecuted by the orthodox eraperors as heretics,
and escaped into the Libanus,** or, from hatred of the
Grecian Church and in consequence of deeper sympa- \
thiesj allied themselves with the Latins.
As to the converteji Jews at Antioch, they were also
yery numerous.*' But \ye must beUeve that th-ey ac-

THE APOSTLES. 205
cepted from tlie very first a fraternal alliance with the
Gentiles.** It was tlien on the shores of the Orontes
that tlie religious fusion of races, drearaed of by Jesus,
or to speak raore fully, by six centuries of prophets,
became a reality.

CHAPTEE XIIL,
THE IDEA OF AN APOSTOLATE TO THE GENTILES.— SAINT
BAENABAS.
Geeat was the exciteraent at Jerusalem' on hearing
what had passed at Antioch. Notwithstanding the
kindly wishes of a few of the principal merabers^of the
Church of Jerusalera, Peter in particular, the Aposto
lic College continued to be influenced by raean and
unworthy ideas. On every occasion when they heard
that the good news had been announced to the heathen,
these veteran Christians raanifested signs of disap
pointment. The man who this time triumphed over
this miserable jealousy, and who prevented the narrow
exclusiveness of the " Hebrews " frora ruining the fu
ture of Christianity, was Barnabas. He was the most
enlightened member of the Church at Jerusalem. He
was the chief of the liberal and progressive party, and
wished the Church to be open to all. Already lie had
powerfully contributed to reraove the raistrust with
which Paul was regarded ; and this tirae, also, he excited
a marked influence. Sent as a delegate of the aposto
lical body, to Antioch, he examined and approved of
all that had been done, and declared that the new
Church had only to continue in the course upon which
it had entered. Conversions were effected in great
nurabers. The vital and creative force of Christianity
appeared to be concentrated at Antioch. Barnabas,

THE APOSTLES. 207
whose zeal always inclined to action, resided there.
Antioch thenceforth is his Church, and it is thence
that he exercised his most influential and important
ministry. Christianity has always done injustice to
this man in nOt placing him in the flrst rank of her
founders. Barnabas was the patron of all good and
liberal ideas. His intelligent boldness often served.
to neutralize the obstinacy of the narrow-minded
Jews who formed the conservative party Of Jerusalera.
A magniflcent idea germinated in this noble heart
at Antioch. Paul was at Tarsus in a forced repose,
which to an active man like him, was a perfect torture.
His false position, his haughtiness, and his exaggerated
pretensions, had neutralized many of his other and
better qualities. He was uselessly wearing his life
away ; Barnabas knew how to apply to its true work
that force which was corroding Paul in his unhealthy
and dangerous solitude. For the second tirae, Barna
bas took the hand of Paul, and led this savage charac
ter into the society of those brethren whom he avoided.
He went himself to Tarsus, sought him out, and
brought him to Antioch.' He did that which those
obstinate old brethren of Jerusalem were never able
to do. To win over this great, reticent,- and suscepti
ble soul ; to accommodate oneself to the caprices and
whims of a man full of fiery excitement, but very per
sonal ; to take a secondary part under him, and forget
ful of oneself, to prepare the field of operations for the
most favorable display of his abilities— all this is cer
tainly the very climax of virtue ; and this is what Bar
nabas did for Paul. Most of the glory which has
accrued to the latter is really due to the modest man

208 THE APOSTLES.
who led him forward, brought his merits to light, pre
vented more than once his faults from resulting deplo
rably to himself and his cause, and the illiberal views
of others from exciting him to revolt ; and also prevented
his insignificant and unworthy personalities from inter
fering with the work of God.
During an entire year Barnabas and Paul co
operated actively.* This was without doubt a most
brilliant and happy year in the life of Paul. The
prolific originality of these two great men raised the
Church of Antioch to a degree of grandeur to which no
Christian Church had previously attained. Few places
in the world had experienced raore intellectual activity
than the capital of Syria. During the Eoman epoch,
as in our tirae, social and religious questions were
brought to the surface "principally at the centres of
population. A sort of reaction against the general im
morality which later made Antioch the special abode
of stylites and hermits* was already felt ; and the true
doctrine thus found in this city more favorable condi
tions for success than it had yet met.
An important circumstance proves besides, that it
was at Antioch that the sect for the first tirae had full
consciousness of its existence ; for it was in this city
that it received a distinct name. Hitherto its adhe
rents had called themselves "believers," "the faith
ful," "saints," "brothers," or disciples; but the sect
had no public and official narae. It was at Antioch
that the title of Christianum was devised.* The termina
tion of the word is Latin, not Greek, which would indi
cate that it was selected by the Eoman authority as an
appellation of the police* Hke Herodiani, Pompeiani,

THB APOSTLES. 209
CoBsajriani? In any everit it is certain that such a narae
was formed by the heathen population. It included a
misapprehension, for it implied that Christus, a transla
tion of the Hebrew Maschiah (the Messiah), was a
proper name.* .Not a few of those who were unfami
liar with Jewish or Christian ideas, by this name were
led to believe that Christus or Chrestus was a sectarian
leader yet living.' The vulgar pronunciation of the
narae indeed was Chrestiani.^'^
The Jews did not adopt in a regular manner, at least,"
the narae given by the Eoraans to their schisraatic co
religionists. They continued to call the new converts
" Nazarenes " or " Nazorenes,"" undoubtedly because
they were accustomed to call Jesus Han-nasri or Haa-
nosri, " the Nazarene ; " and even unto the present
day this name is still applied to them throughout the
entire East.'*
This was a most important moment. Soleran indeed
was the hour when the new creation received its narae,
for that name is the direct syrabol of its existence. It
is by its name that an individual or a community really
becomes itself as distinct from others. The forraation
of the word " Christian " also raarks the precise date
of the separation frora Judaism of the Church of
Jesus. For a lotig time to come the two religions will
be confounded ; but this confusion will only take place
in those countries where the spread of Christianity is
slow and backward. The sect quickly accepted the
appellation which was applied to it, and viewed it as
a title of honor.'* It is really astonishing to reflect
that ten years after the death of Jesus His religion had
already in the capital of Syria, a name in the Greek

210 THE APOSTLES.
and Latin tongues. Christianity is now corapletely
weaned from its mother's breast ; the true sentiments
of Jesus have triumphed over the indecision of its first
disciples ; the Church of Jerusalem is left behind; the
Aramaic language, in which Jesus spoke, is unknown
to a portion of His followers ; Christianity speaks
Greek ; and the new sect is finally launched into that
great vortex of the Greek and Eoman world, whence
it will never issue.
The feverish activity of ideas manifested by this young
Church was truly extraordinary. Great spiritual mani
festations were frequent.'* All believed themselves to
be inspired in different ways. Some were " prophets,"
others " teachers.'"* Barnabas, as his name indicates,"
was undoubtedly among the prophets. Paul had no
special title. Among the leaders of the church at An
tioch may also be raentioned Simeon, surnamed Niger,
Lucius of Cirene, and Menahem, who had been the fos
ter-brother of Herod Antipas, and was naturally quite
old.'* All these personages were Jews. Aniong the
converted heathen was, perhaps, already that Evhode,
who, at a certain period, seems to have occupied a lead
ing place in the Church of Antioch." Undoubtedly the
heathen who heard the 'first preaching were slightly in
ferior, and did not shine in the public exercises of using
unknown tongues, of preaching, and prophecy. In
the midst of the congenial society of Antioch, Paul quickly
adapted himself to the order of things. Later, he mani
fested opposition to the use of tongues, and it is proba
ble that he never practised it ; but he had many visioiis
and immediate revelations." It was apparently at An
tioch that occurred that ecstatic trance whioh he describes

THB APOSTLES. 211
in these terms : " I knew a man in Christ above fourteen
years ago (whether in the body I cannot tell ; or whe
ther out of the body, I cannot tell— God knoweth).
Such an one was caught up to the third heaven.'* And I
knew such a man (whether in the body or out of the
body I cannot tell — God knoweth), how that he was
caught up into paradise'* and heard unspeakable words
which it is not lawful for a man to utter.'"* Paul, though
in general sober and practical, shared the prevalent ideas
of the day in regard to the supernatural. Like so many
others, he believed that he possessed the power of work
ing miracles ;'* it was impossible that the gift of the Holy
Spirit, which was acknowledged to be the common right
of the Church," should be denied to him.
But men permeated with so lively a faith cannot con
tent themselves with merely exuberant piety, but pant
for action. The idea of great missions, destined to con
vert the heathen, and beginning in Asia Minor, seized
hold of the public mind. Had such an idea been formed
at Jerusalem, it could not have been realized, because
the Church there was without pecuniary resources. An
extensive establishment of propagandism requires a solid
capital to work on. Now, the common treasury at
Jerusalem was devoted to the support of the poor, and
was frequently insufSicient for that purpose ; and to save
these noble mendicants from dying with hunger, it was
necessary ?to obtain help from all quarters.^* Commu
nism had created at Jerusalem an irremediable poverty and
a thorough incapacity for great enterprises. The Church
at Antioch was exempt from such a calamity. The
Jews in the profane cities had attained to affluence, and
in some cases had accumulated vast fortunes." The

212 THE APOSTLES.
faithful were wealthy when they entered the Church,
Antioch furnished the pecuniary capital for the founding
of Christianity, and it is easy to imagine the total differ
ence in manner and spirit which this circurastance alone
would create between the two churches. Jerusalem re-
mained the city of the poor of God, of the ebionim of
those simple Galilean dreamers, intoxicated, as it were,
with the expectation of the kingdora of Heaven.** Anti
och, alraost a stranger to the words of Jesus, which it had
never heard, was the church of action and of progress.
Antioch was the city of Paul ; Jerusalem, the seat of
the old apostolic college, wrapped up in its dreamy fan
tasies, and unequal to the new problems which were open
ing, but dazzled by its incomparable privileges, and rich
in its unsurpassed recollections.
A certain circurastance soon brought all these traits
into bold relief. So great was the lack of forethought
in this half-starved Church of Jerusalem, that the least
accident threw the community into distress. Now in
a country, destitute of economic organization, where
coramerce is almost without development, and where
the sources of welfare are limited, famines are inevita
ble. A terrible one occurred in the reign of Claudius,
in the year M.*' When its threatening symptoms
appeared, the veterans at Jerusalem decided to seek
succor from the raerabers of the richer churches of
Syria. An erabassy of prophets was sent frora Jerusa
lem to Antioch.*' One of them, named Agab, who
was in high reputation for his prophetic powers, was
suddenly inspired, and announced that the famine was
now at hand. The faithful were deeply moved at the
evils which menaced the mother Church, to which

THE APOSTLES. 213
they still deemed themselves ti-ibutary. A collection was
made, at which every one gave according to his means,
and Barnabas was selected to carry the funds obtained
to tlie brethren in Judea.** Jerusalem for a long time
remained the capital of Christianity. There were
centred the objects peculiar to the faith, and there
only were the apostles.** But a great forward step
had been taken. For several years there had been
only one completely organized Church, that of Jerusa
lem — the absolute centre of the faith, the heart from
which all life proceeded and through which it circulated ;
but it no longer maintained this monopoly. The church
at Antioch was now a perfect church. It possessed all
the hierarchy of the gifts of the Holy Ghost. It was
tlie starting-point of the missions,** and their head-quar
ters.** It was a second capital, or rather a second heart,
which had its own proper action, exercising its force
and infiuence in every direction.
It is easy to foresee that the second capital must soon
eclipse the first. The decay of the church at Jerusalem
was, indeed, rapid. It is natural that institutions
founded on communism should enjoy at the beginning
a period of brilliancy, for comraunism involves high
mental exaltation ; and it is equally natural that such
institutions should very quickly degenerate, because
communism is contrary to the instincts of human nature.
During a moment of great religious excitement, a man
readily believes that he can entirely sacrifice his selfish
individuality and his peculiar interests ; but egotism has
its revenge, in proving that absolute disinterestedness
engendera evils more serious than by tlie suppression
of individual rights in property it had hoped to avoid.

CHAPTEE XIV.
PEESECUTION OF HEEOD AGEIPPA THB FIEST.
Baenabas found the Church of Jerusalem in great
trouble. The year 44 was perilous to it. Besides the
famine, the fires of persecution which had been smo
thered since the death of Stephen were rekindled.
Herod Agrippa, grandson of Herod the Great, had
succeeded, since the year 41, in reconstituting the king
dom of his grandfather. Thanks to the favor of Caligula,
he had reunited under his doraination Batania, Tracho-
nites, a part of the Hauran , Cibilene, Galilee, and the Per-
sea.' The ignoble part which he played in the tragi
comedy which raised Claudius to the erapire,' completed
his fortune. This vile Oriental, in return for the lessons
of baseness and perfidy he had given to Eome, obtained
for hiraself Samaria and Judea, and for his brother
Herod the kingdom of Chalcis.* He- had left at Eome
the worst memories, and the cruelties of Caligula were
attributed in part to his counsels.* The army and the
pagan cities of Sebaste and Cesarea, which he sacrificed
to Jerusalem, were averse to him.* But the Jews
found hira to be generous, munificent, and sympathetic.
He sought to render himself popular with thera, and
affected a polity quite different from that of Herod
the Great. The latter was much more regardful of
the Greek and Eoman world than of the Jewish.
Herod Agrippa, on the contrary, loved Jerusalem,

THE APOSTLES. 215
rigorously observed the Jewish religion, affected scru
pulousness, and never let a day pass without attending to
his devotions.* He went so far as to receive with mild
ness the advice of the rigorists, and took the trouble to
justify himself from their reproaches.' He returned to
the Hierosolymites the tribute which each house owed
to hira.* The orthodox, in a word, had in hira a king
according to their own heart.
It was inevitable that a prince of this character should
persecute the Christians. Sincere or not, Herod Agrippa
was, in the most thorough sense of the word, a Jewish
Sovereign.' The house of Herod, as it became weaker,
took to devotion. It was no longer that broad profane
idea of the founder of the dynasty, seeking to make
the most diverse religions live together under the
common empire of civilization. When Herod Agrippa
for the first time after he had become king, set foot in
Alexandria, it was as a King of the Jews that he was
received ; it was this title which irritated the popula
tion and gave rise to endless buffooneries.'" Now what
could a King of the Jews be, if not the guardian of the
laws and the traditions, a sovereign theocrat and perse
cutor ? Frora the time of Herod the Great, under whom
fanaticism was entirely repressed, until the breaking'
out of the war which led to the ruin of Jerusalem, there
was thus a constantly augmenting progress of religious
ardor. The death of Caligula (24th Jan., 41) had pro
duced a reaction favorable to the Jews. Claudius was
generally benevolent towards them," as a result of the
favorable ear he lent to Herod Agrippa and Herod
King of Chalcis. Not only did he decide in favor of the
Jews of Alexandria in their quarrels with the inhabi-

216 THE APOSTLES.
tants and allow them the right of choosing an ethnarch,
but he published, it is said, an edict by which he granted
to the Jews throughout the whole empire that which he
had granted to those of Alexandria ; that is to say, the
freedom to live according to their own laws, on the sole
.condition of not outraging other worships. Some at
terapts at vexations analogous to those which were
infficted under Caligula were repressed." Jerusalem
was greatly enlarged ; the quarter of Bezetha was added
to the city.'* The Eoraan authority scarcely raade itself
felt, although Yibius Marsus, a prudent man, of wide
public experience, and of a very cultivated mind,'* who
had succeeded Publius Petronius in the function of im
perial legate of Syria, drew the attention of the author
ities at Eome frora tirae to tirae to the danger of these
serai-independent Eastern Kingdoras.'*
The species of feudality which, since the death of
Tiberius, tended to establish itself in Syria and the
neighboring countries,'* was in fact an interruption in
the imperial polity, and had almost uniformly injurious
results. The " Kings " coming to Eome were person
ages, and exercised there a detestable influence. The
corruption and abasement of the people, especially
under Caligula, proceeded in great part from the spec
tacle furnished by these wretches, who were seen suc
cessively dragging their purple at the theatre, at the
palace of the Csesar, and in the prisons." So far as
concerns the Jews, we have seen that autonomy raeant
intolerance. The Sovereign Pontificate quitted for a
moraent the family of Hanan, only to enter that of
Boethus, no less haughty and cruel. A Sovereign
anxious to please the Jews could not fail to grant them

THE APOSTLES. 217
what they loved best ; that is to say, severities against
everything which diverged from rigorous orthodoxy."
Herod Agrippa, in fact, became towards the end of
his reign a violent persecutor.'* Some tirae before
Easter of. the year 44, he cut off the head of one of the
principal members of the apostolical college, James son
of Zebedee, brother of John. The matter was not pre
sented as a religious one ; there was no inquisitorial
process before the Sanhedrira ; the sentence, as in the
case of John the Baptist," was pronounced by virtue
of the arbitrary power of the sovereign. Encouraged
by the good eff'ect which this execution produced upon
the Jews," Herod Agrippa was not willing to stop upon
so easy a road to popularity. It was the flrst days of
the feast of Passover, ordinarily raarked by a redoubled
fanaticisra. Agrippa ordered the iraprisonraent of
Peter in the tower of Antonia, and sought to have hira
judged and put to death with great pomp before the
mass of people then assembled.
A circurastance with which we are unacquainted,
and which was regarded as rairaculous, opened Peter's
prison. One evening, as raany of the disciples were
assembled in the house of Mary, mother- of John-
Mark, where Peter habitually dwelt, there was sud
denly heard a knock at the door. The servant, naraed
Ehoda, went to listen. She recognised Peter's voice.
Transported with joy, instead of opening the door she
ran back to announce that Peter was there. They re
garded her as raad. She swore she spoke the truth.
"It is his angel," said some of them. The knocking
was heard repeatedly ; it was indeed himself. Their
delight was infinite. Peter immediately announced
10

218 THE APOSTLES.
his deliverance to Jaraes, brother of the Lord, and to
the other disciples. It was believed that the angel of
God had entered into the prison of the apostle and
raade the chains fall from his hands and the bolts fly
open. Peter related, in fact, all that had passed
while he was in a sort of ecstasy ; that after having
passed the first and second guard, and overleaped the
iron gate which led into the city, the angel accompa
nied him still the distance of a street, then quitted
hira ; that then he carae lo himself again and recog
nised the hand of God, who had sent a celestial mes
senger to deliver hira.'^
Agrippa survived these violences but a short time.'*
In the course of the year 44, he went to Cesarea to
celebrate garaes in honor of Claudius. The concourse
of people was extraordinary ; and many from Tyre and
Sidon, who had difficulties with him, came thither to
ask pardon. These festivals were very displeasing to
the Jews, both because they took place in the impure
city of Cesarea, and because they were held in the
theatre. Already, on one occasion, the king having
quitted Jerusalem under similar circurastances, a cer
tain Eabbi Simeon had proposed to declare him an
alien to Judaism, and to exclude hira from the temple.
Herod Agrippa had carried his condescension so far as
to place the Eabbi beside him in the theatre, in order
to prove to him that nothing passed there contrary to
the law,'* and thinking he had thus satisfied the
most austere, he allowed himself to indulge his
taste for profane pomps. The second day of the festi
val he entered the theatre very early in the morning,
clothed in a tunic of silver fabric, with a marvellous

THB APOSTLES. 219
brilliancy. The effect of this tunic, glittering in the
rays of the rising sun, was extraordinary. The Phoeni
cians who surrounded the king lavished upon him
adulations borrowed from paganism. " It is a god,"
they cried, " and not a man." The king did not testify
his indignation, and did not blarae this expression.
He died five days afterwards ; and Jews and Christians
believed that he was struck dead for not having
repelled with horror a blasphemous flattery. Christian
tradition represents that he died of a vermicular mala
dy,'* the punishment reserved for the enemies of God.
The symptoms related by Josephus would lead rather
to the belief that he was poisoned ; and what is
said in the Acts of the equivocal conduct of the Phoe
nicians, and of the care they took to gain oVer Blastus,
valet of the king, would strengthen this hypothesis.
The death of Herod Agrippa I. led to the end of all
independence for Jerusalera. The adrainistration by
Procurators was resumed, and this regime lasted until
the great revolt. This was fortunate for Chris
tianity ; for it is very remarkable' that this religion,
which was destined to sustain subsequently so terrible
a struggle against the Eoraan empire, grew up in the
shadow ofthe Eoman principality, under its protection.
It was Eome, as we have already several times re-
mai"ked, which hindered Judaism from giving itself
up fully to its intolerant instincts, and stifling the
free instincts which were stirred within its bosom.
Every diminution of Jewish authority was a beneflt
for the nascent sect. Cuspius Fadus, the flrst of this
new scries of Procurators, was another Pilate, full of
firmness, or at least of good-will. But Claudius con-

220 THE APOSTLES.
tinned to show himself favorable to Jewish pretensions,
chiefiy at the jnstigation of the young Herod Agrippa,
son of Herod Agrippa I., whom he kept near to his
person, and whom he greatly loved." After the short
administration of Cuspius Fadus, we find the functions
of Procurator confided to a Jew, to that Tiberius Alex
ander, nephew of Philo, and son of the cdaharque of
the Alexandrian Jews who attained to high functions
and played a great part in the political affairs of
the century. It is true that the Jews did not like
bim ; and regarded him, and with reason, as an apos
tate.'* To cut short these incessantly renewed disputes, re
course was had to an expedient in conformity with
sound principles. A sort of separation was made
between the spiritual and temporal. The political
power remained with the procurators; but Herod,
king of Chalcis, brother of Agrippa I., was named pre
fect of the temple, guardian of the pontifical habits,
treasurer of thfe sacred fund, and invested with the
right of nominating the high-priests." At his death
(year 48), Herod Agrippa II. , son of Herod Agrippa
I., succeeded his uncle in his offices, which he retained
until the great war. Claudius, in all this, manifested
the greatest kindness. The high Eoman functionaries
in Syria, although not so strongly disposed as the em
peror to concessions, acted with great moderation.
The procurator, Ventidius Cumanus, carried condescen
sion so far as to have a soldier beheaded in the midst
of the Jews, drawn up in line, for having torn a copy
of the Pentateuch.** It was all useless, however;
Josephus, with good reason, dates from the administra-

THE APOSTLES. 221
tion of Cumanus the disorders which ended only with
the destruction of Jerusalem.
Christianity played no part in these troubles.*' But
these ti'oubles, like Christianity itself, were one of the
symptoms of the extraordinary fever which devoured
the Jewish people, and the Divine travail which was
accomplishing in its raidst. Never had the Jewish
faith made such progress.*' The temple of Jerusa
lera was one of the sanctuaries of the world, the repu
tation of which was most widely extended, ahd where
the offerings were most liberal.** Judaism had becorae
the dominant religion of various portions of Syria.
The Asmonean princes had violently converted entire
populations to it (Idumeans, Itureans, etc.).** There
were many examples of circumcision having been im
posed by force ;** the ardor for making proselytes was
very great.** The house of Herod itself powerfully
served the Jewish propaganda. In order to marry
princesses of this family, whose wealth was immense,
the princes of the little dynasties of Emese, of Pon
tus, and of Cilicia, vassals of the Eoraans, becarae
Jews.*' Arabia and Ethiopia counted also a great
number of converts. The royal families of Mesene
and of Adiabene, ti-ibutaries of the Parthians, were
gained over, especially by their woraen.** It was gene
rally granted that happiness was found in the know
ledge and practice of the law** Even when circum
cision was not practised, religion was raore or less
raodified in the Jewish direction ; a sort of monothe
ism became the general spirit of religion in Syria. At
Damascus, a city which was in nowise of Israelitish
origin, neai-ly all the women had adopted the Jewish

222 THE APOSTLES.
religion.** Behind the Pharisaical Judaism there was
thus formed a sort of free Judaism, of .inferior quality,
not knowing all the secrets of the sect ;*' bringing only
its good-will and its good heart, but having a greater
future. The situation was, in all respects, that of the
Catholicisra of our days, in which we see, on one hand,
narrow and proud theologians, who alone would gain
no more souls for Catholicism than the Pharisees gained
for Judaisra ; on the other, pious layraen, very often
heretics without knowing it, but full of a touching
zeal, rich in good works and in poetical sentiments,
altogether occupied in dissimulating or repairing by
complaisant explanations the faults of their doctors.
One ofthe most extraordinary examples of this ten
dency of religious souls towards Judaisra was that given
by the royal faraily of Adiabene, upon the Tiger.*' This
house, of Persian origin and njanners,** already partly
initiated into Greek culture, ** became entirely Jewish,
and even preeminently devout ; for, as we have already
said, these proselytes were often more pious than the
Jews by birth. Izate, chief of the family, embraced
Judaism through the preaching of a Jewish merchant
named Ananias, who, entering the seraglio of Abermerig,
king of Mesene, for the purposes of his petty traffic,
had converted all the woraen, and constituted himself
their spiritual preceptor. The womep brought Izate
into communication with him. Towards the same time
Helen, his mother, received instruction in the true reli
gion from another Jew. Izate, with the zeal of a new
convert, wished to be circumcised. But his mother and
Ananitis vehemently dissuaded him from it. Ananias
proved to him that the observation of God's command-

THB APOSTLES. 223
ments was of raore iraportance than circuracision, and
that he raight be a very good Jew without this ceremony.
Such a tolerance was the privilege of a small number of
enlightened rainds. Some time after, a Jew of Galilee,
named Eleazar, finding the king occupied in reading the
Pentateuch, showed hira by texts that he could not
observe the law without being circumcised. Izate was
convinced, and submitted immediately to the operation.**
The conversion of Izate was followed by that of his
brother, Monobaze, and of all the family. Towards the
year 44, Helen came and established herself at Jerusalem,
where she had built for the royal house of Adiabene a
palace and family mausoleum, which still exist.** She
rendered herself dear to the Jews by her affability and
her alms. It was very edifying to see her, like a pious
- Jewess, frequenting the temple, consulting the doctors,
reading the law, teaching it to her sons. Daring the
plague of the year 44, this holy personage was the pro
vidence of the city. She had a large quantity of wheat
bought in Egypt, and of dried figs in Cyprus. Izate,
on his part, sent considerable sums to be distributed
among the poor. The wealth of Adiabene was in part
expended at Jerusalem. The sons of Izate came thither
to learu the customs and the language of the Jews. All
this family was thus the resource of this population of
beggars. It acquired there a sort of citizenship ; several
of its merabers were found there at the time of the siege
of Titus ;*' others figure in the Talmudic writings, pre
sented as models of piety -and devotedness.**
It is thus that the royal family of Adiabene belongs
to ths history of Christianity. Without being Christian,
in fact, as certain traditions have represented,*' this

224 THB APOSTLES.
family represented under various aspects the first fruits
of the Gentiles. In embracing Judaism, it obeyed a
sentiraent which was destined to bring over the entire
pagan world to Christianity. The true Israelites accord
ing to God, were much rather these foreigners animated
by so profoundly sincere a religious sentiment than the
arrogant and spiteful Pharisee, for whom religion was
but a pretext for hatred and disdain. These good pro
selytes, although they were truly saints, were in nowise
fanatics. They admitted that true religion might be prac
tised under the empire of the most widely differing civil
codes. They completely separated religion from poli
tics. The distinction between the seditious sectaries,
who must presently' defend Jerusalem with rage, and
the devoutly pious who, at the first rumor of war, were
going to flee to the mountains,** raade itself more and
more manifest.
We may see at least that the question as to prose
lytes was propounded in a very similar manner at once
in Judaisra and in Christianity. On both hands alike
the void was felt for enlarging the door of entrance.
For those who were placed at thi^ point of view, cir
curacision was a useless or noxious custora ; the Mosaic
observances were siraply a raask of a race having no
value but for the sons of Abraham. Before becoming
the universal religion, Judaism was obliged to reduce
itself to a sort of deisra, iraposing only the duties of
natural religion. That was a sublirae raission to fulfil,
and to it a portion of Judaisra, in the first half of the
first . century, lent itself in a very intelligent manner.
On one side, Judaisra was one of those innumerable
national worships*' of which the world is full, and the

THB APOSTLES. 225
sanctity of which springs solely frora the fact that the
ancestors had adored in the same way ; on another
side, Judaism was the absolute religion, made for all,
destined to be adopted by all. The terrible flood of
fanaticism which spread over JudM,, and which led to
the war of extermination, cut short this future. It was
Christianity which took upon its own account the task
which the synagogue had been unable to accomplish.
Laying aside ritual questions, Christianity continued
the monotheistic propaganda of Judaism. That which
had caused the success of Judaism with the woraen of
Damascus in the seraglio of Abenverig, with Helen,
with so many pious proselytes, became the force of
Christianity throughout an entire world. In this sense
the glory of Christianity is truly confounded with that
of Judaism. A generation of fanatics deprived this
latter of its recompense, and hindered its gathering
the harvest it had prepared. '
10*

CHAPTEE XV.
MOVEMENTS PABALLEL TO AND IMITATrVE OF CHEISTIANITT —
SIMON OF GITTO.
We have now arrived at a period when Christianity
raay be said to. have becorae established. In the history
of religions it is only the earliest years during which
their existence is precarious. If a creed can triumph
antly pass through the severe ordeals which await every
new system, its future is assured. With sounder judg
ment than other cotemporary sects, such as the Essenes;
the Baptists, and the followers of Judas the Gaulonite,
who clung to and perished with the Jewish institutions,
the founders of Christianity displayed rare' prevision
in going forth at an early JDcriod to disseminate and
root their new opinions over the bioad expanse of the
Gentile world. The meagreness of the allusions to
Christianity which are. found in Josephus, in the Talmud,
and in the Greek and Latin writers, need not surprise
us. Josephus is transmitted to us by Christiau copyists,
who have omitted everything uncomplimentary to their
faith. It is possible that he wrote more at length con
cerning Jesus and the Christians than is preserved in
the edition which has been handed down to us. The
Talmud in like manner, during the Middle Age, and
after its first publication, underwent much abridgment
and alteration.' This resulted from the severe criticisms
of the text by Christian writers, and from the burning

THE APOSTLES. 227
of a number of unlucky Jews who-were found in pos
session of a work containing what were considered
blasphem'ous passages. As to the Greek and Latin
writers, it is not surprising that they paid littlo attention
to a rpovement .which they could not comprehend, and
which was going on within a narrow space foreign to
them. Christianity was lost to their vision upon the
dark, background of Judaism. It was only a family
quarrel amongst the subjects of a degraded nation ;
why trouble themselves about it ? The two or three
passages in which Tacitus and Suetonius mention the
Christians show that the new sect, even if generally
beyond the visual circle of full publicity, was, notwith
standing, a prominent fact, since we are enabled at
intervals to catch a glirapse of it defining itself with
considerable clearness of outline through the mist of
public inattention.
The relief of Christianity above the general level of
Jewish history in the first century has also been some
what diminished, by the fact that it was not the only
movement of the kind. At the epoch we have arrived
at, Philo had finished his career, so wholly consecrated
to the love of virtue. The sect of Judas the Gaulonite
still existed. This agitator had left the perpetuation
of his ideas to his sons, James, Simon, and Menahem.
The two former were crucified by command of the
renegade procurator Tiberius Alexander.' Menahem
remained, and is destined to play an important part in
the final catastrophe of the nation.* In the year 44,
an enthusiast by the narae of Theudas arose, announcing
the speedy deliverance of the Jews, calling on tha
people to follow him to the desert, and promising like

228 THE APOSTLES.
a second Joshua to 'cause them to pass dry-shod across
the Jordan.* This passage was, according to him, the
true baptism which should admit every believer inlo
the kingdom of God. More than four hundred persons
followed him. The procurator Cuspius Fadus sent out
against him a troop of horse, which dispersed his disci
ples and slew him.* A few years before this Samaria
had been stirred by the voice of a fanatic, who pre
tended to have had a revelation of the spot on Mount
Gerizira where Moses had concealed the sacred instru
ments of worship. Pilate suppressed this movement
with great severity.*
In Jerusalem, tranquillity was at an end. From the
arrival of the procurator Ventidius Cumanus (a. d. 48),
disturbances were incessant. The excitement reached
such a point that it becarae almost irapossible to live
there ; the most trifling occurrences brought about ex
plosions.' People everywhere felt a strange fermenta
tion, a kind of mysterious foreboding. Impostors, sprang
up on every side.* That fearful scourge, the society of
zealots or sicarii, began to appear. Wretches armed
with daggers mingled in the crowds, gave the fatal
thrust to their victims, and were the first to cry murder.
Hardly a day passed that some assassination of this kind
was not told of An extraordinary terror spread around.
Josephus speaks of the criraes of the zealots as pure
wickedness ;* but it cannot be doubted that they sprang
in part from fanaticism.'* It was to defend the law
and the testimony that these wretches drew the poni
ard. Whoever was wanting in their view in one ot
the requirements of the law, was judged and at once
executed. They believed that in so doing they were

THE APOSTLES. 229
rendering a service most meritorious and pleasing to
God. Dreams like those of Theudas occurred everywhere.
Men calling themselves inspired, drew the people after
them into the desert, under the pretext of showing
them by manifest signs that God was about to de
liver them. The Eoman authorities exterminated the
dupes of these agitators in crowds." An Egyptian
Jew who came to Jerusalem about the year 56, suc
ceeded by his devices in drawing after hira thirty
thousand persons, araong whom were four thousand
zealots. From the desert he was going to lead them
to the Mount of Olives, that they might thence be
hold the walls of Jerusalem crumble at his cora
mand. Felix, who was at that time procurator,
marched against him, and dispersed his band. The
Egyptian escaped and was seen no more." But, as we
see in a diseased body one malady succeed another,
soon afterwards there appeared here and there troops
of magicians and robbers, who openly excited the
people to revolt, and threatened with death those who
should continue to obey the Eoman authorities. Under
this pretext they murdered and pillaged the rich, burned
villages, and filled all Judea with the raarks of their
outrages.'* A terrible war seemed impending. A
spirit of madness reigned everywhere, and the imagi
nation of the people was kept in a state bordering on
lunacy. It is not impossible that Tlieudas may have had an
idea of imitating the acts of Jesus and John the Bap
tist. At any rate such an imitation is evident in the
accounts of Simon of Gitto, if we may credit the Chris-

230 THE APOSTLES.
tian traditions.'* We have already encountered him
in communication with the apostles on the first mission
of Philip to Samaria. He attained his celebrity during
the reign of the Eraperor Claudius.'* His miracles were
unquestioned, and all Samaria regarded hira as a super
natural being.'*
Miracles were not, however, the only basis of his
renown. He taught a doctrine, it seems, of which it
is difficult for us to acquire a definite knowledge, in a
treatise entitled "The Great Exposition," which is
ascribed to him, and a few extracts frora which have
come down to us, being probably only a modified
expression of his ideas." During his sojourn at Alex
andria, where he studied the Grecian philosophy, he
appears to have framed a system of syncretic theology
and allegorical exegesis, in many respects analogous
to that of Philo.'* His system is not without sublimity.
Sometimes it reminds us of the Jewish Kabala, some
times of the pantheistic theories of Indian philosophy ;
and in other respects it resembles that of the Buddhists
and the Parsees." The priraal being is, " He who is,
has been, and shall be," '* i.e. the Jah-veh of the Sama
ritans, understood according to the etymological force
of the name, as the eternal and only Being, self-begot
ten, self-augmenting, self-seeking, and self-finding — the
father, raother, sister, spouse, and son of himself." In
this infinite being, all things exist potentially to all
eternity; and pass into action and reality through
human conscience, reason, language, and science." The
universe is explained either upon the basis of a hier
archy of abstract principles like the JEons of Gnosticism
and the Sephirotic tree of the Kabala, or upon that

THE APOSTLES. 231
of an order of angels apparently borrowed from the
Persian doctrine. Soraetiraes these abstractions are
presented as representations of physical and physiolo
gical facts. Elsewhere, the "divine powers," con
sidered as distinct substances, are realized in successive
incarnations, either in the male or female form, whose
end is the emancipation of those beings which are
enslaved iri the bor^ds of material existence. The
highest of these "Powers" is called "the Great,"
which is the universal Providence, the intelligent soul
of this world.'* It is masculine. Siraon passed for an
incarnation of this spirit. In connexion with it is its
ferainine counterpart, "the Great Thought." Aocus
toraed to clothe his theories in a strange symbolism,
and to devise allegorical interpretations for the ancient
writings both sacred and profane, Siraon, or whoever
was the author of " The Great Exposition," ascribed to
this Divine existence the narae of " Helena," thereby
signifying that she was the object of universal pursuit,
the eternal cause of dispute araong men, and that she
avenged herself on her enemies by depriving them of
sight until the moraent they consented to recant ; '* — a
strange theory, and one which, iraperfectly understood
or designedly travestied, gave rise araong the early
Fathers of the Church to the raost puerile legends.'*
The acquaintance with Greek literature possessed by
the author of " The Great Exposition" is at all events
very remarkable. He contended that, rightly under
stood, the heathen writings sufficed for the knowledge
of all things.'* His broad eclecticism embraced all
revelations, and sought to combine them into one sole
and universal system of accepted truths.

232 THE APOSTLES.
His plan was essentially quite similar to that of
Valentinus, and to the doctrines in regard to the Divine
Persons which are found in the fourth Gospel, in Philo,
and in the Targuras." The " Metatronos," '* which the
Jews placed at the side of the Deity, and alraost in his
bosom, strongly resembles "The Great Power." In
Samaritan theology we find a Great Angel, who presides
over other angels, and we find also a variety of manifes
tations or " Divine Virtues," analogous to those of the
Kabala." It appears certain, then, that Simon of Gitto
was a theosophist of the type of Philo and the Kabalists.
Perhaps he may have corae near to Christianity, but cer
tainly he did not attach himself to it in any defined way.
Whether he actually borrowed anything from the
disciples of Jesus, is difficult to decide. If " The Great
Exposition " is the expression of his ideas in any degree,
it must be adraitted that upon several points he is iu
advance of the Christian ideas, and that upon others he
adopts them with much fulness.** He seeras to have
atterapted an eclecticism sirailar to that which Mahomet
afterwards adopted, and to have based his religious
action upon the preliminary belief in the divine mission
of John and of Jesus.*' He professed to bear a mystic
relation to them. He asserted, it is said, that it was he
himself who appeared to the Samaritans as the Father,
to the Jews by the visible crucifixion of the Son, and to
the Gentiles by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.*'
He also, it would seera, prepared the way for the doc
trine of the " Docetge." He clairaed to have suffered
iu Judea in the person of Jesus, but that his suffering
was only apparent.** These pretensions to Divinity
and claims of adoration have probably been exagge-

THE APOSTLES. 233
rated by the Christians, who have in every way sought
to cover him with odium.
The doctrine of "the Great Exposition" is that of
nearly all the Gnostic writings ; and if Simon really pro
fessed that doctrine, it is with good reason that the Fathers
charged him with being the founder of Gnosticism.** It
is our belief that the " Exposition " has only a relative
authenticity ; that it is to the doctrine of Simon very
nearly what the fourth Gospel is to -the ideas of Jesus ;
and that it dates from the earlier years of the second
century, the 'epoch when the theosophic notions of the
Logos acquired a definite ascendency. These notions, of
which we shall find the germ in the Christian Church
about the year 60,** may, however, have been known to
Simon, whose career was probably prolonged until the
close of the century.
The notion then that we obtain of this enigmatic per
sonage is, that he was a kind of plagiarist of Christiani
ty. Imitation seems to have been a constant habit of
the Samaritans.** In the same manner as they had al
ways .been imitators of the Jewish ceremonies of Jerusa
lem, so these sectaries had also their copy of Christianity,
their Gnosis, their theosophic > speculations, and their
Kabala. But we shall probably remain for ever igno
rant whether Simon was a respectable imitator, who just
fell short of success, or only an immoral and insincere
juggler, who was working for his own profit and cele
brity a doctrine stitched together out of the rags of other
systems.*' He thus assumes in history a most difficult
position ; he walks on a tight-rope, where no hesitation
is permitted; in such a case there is no midway path
between ridiculous failure and triumphant success.

234 THE APOSTLES.
We have yet to exaraine whether the legends relative
to Simon's sojourn at Eome comprise any truth. It is
at least certain that the Simonian sect continued as far
down as the third century ;** that it possessed churchgs as
far as Antioch — perhaps even at Eorae; and that Me
nander of Capharetes and Cleobius*' sustained the sarae
doctrine, or at least imitated Simon's performance as
theurgist with more or less recurrence in type to the acts
of Jesus and the apostles. Simon and his followers were
in great esteem among their co-religionists. Sects of
the sarae kind, parallel with Christianity,** and raore or
less tinctured with Gnosticism, continued to spring up
among the Samaritans, until their almost total destruc
tion by Justinian. It was the lot of this little religious
community to receive an impression frora everything
that happened in its vicinity, without producing any
thing altogether original.
As to Christians, the raemory of Simon was amongst
them an abomination. Those illusions of his which so
closely resembled their own, were irritating to them.
To have competed with the success of the apostles was
the raost unpardonable of crimes. They pretended
that the wonders perforraed by Simon and his disciples
were works of the devil, and they branded the Samari
tan theosophist with the title of " Sorcerer,"*' which
his believers took in high dudgeon. The entire Chris
tian account of Siraon bears the iraprint of concentrat
ed hatred. The maxims of quietism were ascribed to
him, with the excesses which are generally supposed to
be their consequence. He was considered the father
of all error, the priraitive heresiarch. They delighted in
recounting his ludicrous adventures, and his defeats by

THE APOSTLES. 235
the apostle Peter,** and attributed to the vilest motives-
his apparent .tendency, towards Christianity. They
were so preoccupied with his name that they read it at
-randrom upon colurans where it did not exist.** The
syrabolism in which he had clothed his ideas was inter
preted in the most grotesque way. The " Helena,"
whora he identified with " The First Intelligence," be
came a girl of the town purchased by him in the
streets of Tyre.** His very name, hated nearly as much
as that of Judas, and used as a synonym of Anti-apos-
tle,^ becaine the grossest word of abuse and a prover
bial expression to designate a professional irapostor or
adversary of truth whom it was desired to refer to
under a disguise.*' He was the first eneray of Chris
tianity, or rather the first personage whora Christianity
ti'eated as such. It is sufficient to say that neither
pious frauds nor calumny were spared in defaming
him.** Criticism in. such a case need not attempt a
rehabilitation ; it has no documents on the other side.
All it can do is to show the physiognomy of the tradi
tions and the set purpose of abuse which they display.
At least it should prevent the loading of the meraory
of the Samaritan theurgist with a resemblance which
may be only accidental. In a story related by Josephus,
a Jewish sorcerer named, Simon, a native of Cyprus,
plays for the procurator Felix the part of a Pandarus.*'
The circumstances of this story do not accord well enough
with what is known of Simon of Gitto, to raake him re
sponsible for the- acts of a person who may have had
nothing in comraon with him but a narae borne by thou
sands, and a pretension to supernatural powers, which was
unfortunately shared by a crowd of his cotemporaries.

CHAPTEE XVT.
geneeal peogeess of the oheistian missions.
We have seen Barnabas leaving Antioch in order to
carry to the faithful at Jerusalem the contributions of
their brethren in Syria, and arriving at Jerusalera in
time to be present at several of the excitements occa
sioned there by the persecution of Herod Agrippa.'
Let' us now follow him again to Aiitioch,- where, at this
period, all the creative energy, of the sect seems to have
been concentrated.
Barnabas took back a zealous assistant, his cousin
John- Mark, tbe disciple of Peter,' and the son of that
Mary at whose house the chief apostle loved to stay.
Doubtless in calling this new co-worker to his aid, he had
already in view the great enterprise in which they were
to embark. Perhaps he foresaw the disputes it would
occasion, and was well pleased to engage in it one who
was understood to be the right hand of Peter, whose
influence in general matters was predominant.
The enterprise itself was no less than a series of great
missions starting from Antioch and seeking the conver
sion of the world. Like all the great resolves of the
early Church, this idea was ascribed to a direct inspira
tion of the Holy Ghost. A special call, a supernatural
election, was believed to have been vouchsafed to the
Church of Antioch while engaged in fasting and prayer.
Perhaps one of the prophets of the Church, Menahem,

THB APOSTLES. 237
or Lucius, uttered under the power of the gift of tongues
the words intimating that Paul and Barnabas were pre
destined to this mission.* Paul was convinced that-God
had chosen him from his raother's worab for this task,
to which thenceforth he exclusively devoted himself.*
The two apostles took with, them, as an assistant in
the details of their enterprise, the John-Mark whora
Barnabas had brought frora Jerusalem." When the
preparations were completed, after fasting and prayer,
and laying on of hands as a sign of the authoKty confer
red by the Church itself on the apostles,* they were com
mended to the grace of God, and set out.' Whither
they should journey, and what races they should evan
gelize, is what we are now to learn.
The early missions were all directed westward, or in
other words adopted the Eoman erapire for their scene
of operations. Excepting sorae small provinces between
the Tigris and the Euphrates under the rule of the
Arsacides, the Parthian countries received no Christian
missions during the first century.* Until the reigns of
the Sassanides, Christianity did not pass eastward
beyond the Tigris. This important fact was due to two
causes, the Mediterranean sea, and the Eoman erapire.
For a thousand years the Mediterranean had been
the great pathway of ideas and civilizations. The
Eoraans, in extirpating its pirates, had rendered it an
unequalled method of intercourse. A numerous coast
ing-marine made it very easy to pass from point to point
on the borders of this iraraerise lake. The^coraparative
safety of the imperial highways, the protection afforded
by the civil authority, the diffusion of the Jews around
the Mediterranean coasts, the spreading of the Greek

238 THE APOSTLES.
language over their eastern portion, and the unity of
civilization, which first the Greeks, and then the Eomans.
had" extended over those countries, all joined to make
the .map of the empire a map of the regions set apart
for Christian missions, and destined to be Christianized.
The Eoman world became the Christian world, and in
this sense the founders of the empire may be called the
founders of the Christian monarchy. Every province
conquered by the empire was a conquest for Christianity.
Had the apostles been placed in presence of an inde
pendent Asia Minor ; of a Greece or an Italy divided
into a hundred little republics ; of a Gaul, Spain, Africa ;
of Egypt with her ancient institutions — we cannot con
ceive of their succeeding, or even imagine that such a
project could have been seriously formed. The unity
of the empire was the preliminary condition of all great
religious conversions which should transcend lines of
nationality. This the empire saw clearly in the fourth
century ; it became Christian. It perceived that it had
established Christianity without knowing it ; a religion
conterminous with the Eoraan territory, identified with
the empire, and capable of inspiring it with new life. The
Church, on the other hand, became entirely Eoman, and
has remained down to our own day as a fragment of the
empire. Had any one tOld Paul that Claudius was his
chief cooperator, or Claudius that the Jew just setting
out from Antioch was about to found the most enduring
part of the iraperial structure, both would have been
much astonished. Nevertheless both sayings would
have been true.
Syria was the first country out of Judea in whicii
Christianity becarae naturally established. This was

THE APOSTLES. 239
an evident result of the vicinity of Palestine and of the
great number of Jews living in Syria.'* The apostles
visited Cyprus, Asia Minor, Macedonia, Greece, 'and
Italy next in order, and only a few years after. Southern
Gaul, Spain, and the coast of Africa, although made
acquainted with the Gospel at an early period, may be
considered as of a more recent epoch in the building up
of the new faith.
It was the sarae with Egypt. Egypt plays hardly
any part in the apostolic history, and the missionaries
seem to have systematically passed it by. Although
after the third century it was the scene of such momen
tous events in religious history, it was at first very
backward in Christian progress. Apollos was the only
teacher of Christianity who 'ame frora the Alexandrian
school, and he learned it during his travels." The
cause of this remarkable fact will be found in the mea
greness of the intercourse between the Egyptian and
the Palestinian Jews ; and above all in the circumstance
that Jewish Egypt had a separate religious develop
ment in the teachings of Philo and the Therapeutse,
which were its special Christianity, and which indis
posed it to lend an attentive ear to any other." As to
heathen Egypt, her religious institutions were much
more tenacious than those of Greco-Eoman paganisra.'*
The Egyptian idolatry was yet in full vigor. It was
almost the epoch when the enormous temples of Esneh
and Ombos were constructed, . and when the hope of
finding a last Ptolemy, a national Messiah in tho little
Cesarion, inspired the building of Dendera and Her-
monthis, which will compare with the finest works of
the Pharaohs. Christianity planted itself everywhere

240 THE APOSTLES.
upon the ruins of national feeling and local worships.
The degradation of mind in Egypt also made very rare
those religious aspirations which opened so easy a road
to' Christianity in other regions.
A fiash of light frora Syria, illumining almost at
once the three great peninsulas of Asia Minor, Greece,
and Italy, and soon followed by a second, which ex
tended over nearly the whole Mediterranean seaboard
— such was the firet apparition of Christianity. The
course of the apostolic vessels was always rauch the
same. The Christian preaching seeras to have fol
lowed a, road already laid out, and which is no other
than that of the Jewish eraigration. Like a contagion
which, having its point of departure at the head of the
Mediterranean, appears all at once at a number of
separate points on the shore by a secret coramunica
tion, Christianity had its points in a manner raarked in
advance. They were nearly all places where there
existed colonies of Jews. The synagogue generally
preceded the church. It was like a train of powder,
or raore correctly, an electric cord, along which the
new idea ran with almost instantaneous rapidity.
During a century and a half Judaism, which had
previously been conflned to the East and to Egypt,
had been spreading westward. Cyrene, Cyprus, Asia
Minor, and certain cities of Macedonia, Greece, and
Italy, contained large Jewish colonies.'* The Jews
first exemplified that species of patriotism which the
Parsees, the Armenians, and in some degree the mod
ern Greeks, have shown in later ages ; — a patriotism of
great warmth, though not attached to any particular
locality; a patriotism of a nation of merchants wan-

THB APOSTLES. 241
dering everywhere, and everywhere recognising each
other as brothers ; a patriotism which results in forra
ing no great corapact states, but sraall autonoraic cora
munities within other states. Closely associated among
themselves, the dispersed Jews forraed quasi-indepen
dent congregations within the cities, having their own
magistrates and their own councils, some of whom
were invested with powers approaching sovereignty
itself. They dwelt in quarters by themselves, outside
of the ordinary jurisdiction, despised by the other
citizens, and happy enough at home. They were rather
poor than rich. The epoch of the great Jewish for
tunes had not yet arrived ; they began in Spain under
the Visigoths.'* The monopoly of finance by the Jews
resulted from th^ lack of administrative capacity in
the barbarians, and from the hatred manifested by
the Church against monetary science and her superfi
cial notions about usury. Nothing of the. kind oc
curred in the Eoman empire. But when a Jew is not
rich, he is poor ; bov/rgeois comfort is not his forte.
He is capable of enduring poverty ; and he is still more
capable of combining the fiercest religions energy with
the rarest commercial skill. Theological eccentricities
are not at all inconsistent with good sense in conduct
ing business. In England, America, and Eussia, the
strangest sectaries, Irvingites, Latter-Day Saints, Eas-
kolniks, are able business-men.
It has always been characteristic of unadulterated
Jewish life to produce rauch gaiety and cordiality. In
that little world of theirs they loved each other, they re
vered their common history, and their religious ceremo
nies-mingled pleasantly with their daily existence. It
11

242 THE APOSTLES.
was analogous to the separate coramunities which still
exist in Turkish cities, such as the Greek, the Arme
nian, and the Hebrew quarters at Smyrna, where they
are all acquainted, and live aud intrigue together. In
these little republics, religious affairs always control poli
tics, or rather supply the want of the latter. Amongst
them a heresy is an affair of state, and a schism always
arises out of some personal difficulty. The Eomans,
with rare exceptions, never penetrated these secluded
quarters. The synagogues published decrees, awarded
honors, and acted like real municipalities.'* Their influ
ence was extrerae. In Alexandria, it is predominant in
all the internal history of the city." At Eome the Jews
were numerous and constituted a body, the support of
which was by no means to be despised. Cicero claims
the credit of courage for having resisted some of their
demands." Csesar protected thera, and found them
faithful.'* Tiberius was obliged, in order to control
them, to resort to the severest measures." Caligula,
whose reign was most calamitous to thera in the East,
allowed thera freedora of association at Eome.^' Clau
dius, who favored them in Judea, found it necessary to
expel thera frora the city.'* They were encountered
everywhere,'* and it was even said of thera as of the
Greeks, that when theraselves subdued, they had suc
ceeded in iraposing laws on their conquerors.'*
The feelings of the native population towards these
foreigners were very diverse. On the one hand that
strong sentiment of repulsion and antipathy which the
Jews have invariably inspired where sufficiently nume- ^ ,
rous and organized, by their jealous love of isolation, i i
their revengeful nature, and their exclusive habits, mani- , ,

THE APOSTLES. 243
fested itself with great force.'* When they were free
they were in fact a privUeged class, for they enjoyed the
advantages of society, without sustaining its burdens."
Charlatans took advantage of thecuriosity inspired by
their religious rites, and under pretence of exposing their
secrets, acted all sorts of impostures.'* Violent and semi-
burlesque pamphlets, like that of Apion, nourished the
pagan enmity, and were too often the sources whence
the profane historians derived their information." The
Jews seem to have been generally sullen and full of
complaints. They were looked upon as a secret society,
malevolent towards others, the merabers of which were
pledged to push forward their own- interests at any cost,
regardless of injury to their fellow-men. *° Their singu
lar customs, their aversion to certain kinds of food, their
fllth and unpleasant odor,*' their religious scruples, their
minute observances on the Sabbath, all appeared absurd
and ridiculous.*^ Placed under a social ban, it was a natu
ral consequence that they should care nothing about refined
appearances. They were met everywhere travelling with
garments shiny with dirt, with an awkward air, a weary
mien, a cadaverous skin, and large, sunken eyes,** assum
ing a hypocritical and obsequious manner, -and herd
ing apart with their woraen and children, and their bundles
and haraper, which composed their whole movable pos
sessions.** In the towns they exercised the meanest trades ;
they were beggars,** rag-pickers, match-venders,** and sraall
peddlers. Their history and their law were alike unj ustly
reviled. Soraetimes they were called cruel and supersti
tious ;*' ** sometimes atheists and despisers of the gods.**
Their hatred of images appeared purely impious. Above
all, circumcision afforded a theme for endless raillery.**

244 THE APOSTLES.
Bilt such superficial estimates were not concurred in
by every one. The Jews had as many friends as de
tractors.- Their gravity and good morals, and the sim
plicity of their religion, were attractive to many persons,
who recognised in them soraething superior. A vast
monotheistic and Mosaic propaganda was organized,*'
as it were a powerful vortex around this singular race.
The poor Jew peddler of the Transteverine,*' setting out
in the morning with his basket of sraall wares, often
returned at evening enriched with alras from some
,pious hand.** Women in particular were attracted
towards these ragged missionaries.** Juvenal enume
rates their leaning towards the Jewish religion as one
of the vices of the ladies of his time.** Those who
were converted, gloried in the treasure they had .ft)und
and the happiness they enjoyed.** The old Greek and
Eoman mind resisted stoutly ; contempt and hatred of
Jews were the sure emotions of cultivated intellects,
such as Cicero, Horace, Seneca, Juvenal, Tacitus,
Quintilian, and Suetonius.*' On the other side, the
enormous raass of raingled populations which had be
corae subject to the erapire and to whom the old Eoraan
intellect and Greek learning were foreign or indifferent,'
gladly and spontaneously welcomed a community
where they observed such touching examples of con
cord, charity, and mutual aid,** of content, industry,*'
and proud poverty. The institution of mendicity,
which afterwards became entirely Christian, was at
that time Jewish. The mendicant by profession,
" formed to it by his mother," presented himself to
the minds of the poets of the 'day as a Jew.**
Exemption from some civil burdens, especially mill-

THE APOSTLES. 245
tary duty, may also have contributed to cause the lot
of the Jews to be regarded as desirable.*' The State at
that period demanded raany sacrifices, and afforded few
moral advantages or pleasures. It created an icy cold
ness as in a uniform and shelterless plain. Huraan life,
which was so raelancholy under the rule of paganism,
regained its charra and its value in the railed atmo
spheres of the synagogue and the Church. There was
little enough^^ liberty there, it is true. The brethren
watched each a^her and tormented each other unceas
ingly. But although the internal life of these com
raunities was anything but tranquil, it was very enjoya
ble, and people did not abandon it ; it had no apos
tates. The poor enjoyed content within its circle ; and
dwelling in the quiet of an untroubled conscience, re
garded riches without envy.*' The truly deraocratic
idea of the folly of worldly things, and the vanity of
riches and profane honors, was there corapletely embo
died. They were but little acquainted with the pagan
world, and judged it with intemperate severity. Eo
man civilization appeared to them a mass of hateful
vices and iniquities,** just as an honest ouvrier of our
day, imbued with' socialistic declamation, pictures the
" aristocrat " to himself in the blackest colors. But
there was abundance of life, gaiety, and interest
araongst these people, and is to this moment in the
poorest synagogues of Poland and Galicia. Their
lack of refineraent and elegance in habits was corapen-
sated for by a warm family attachraent and patriarchal
hospitality. In high circles, on the contrary, egotisra
and self-seeking had arrived at their fullest growth.
The words of Zachariah were being verified, that

246 THE APOSTLES.
men 'of all nations should " take hold of the skirt of
him that is a Jew " and cry, bring us to Jerusalem I **
There was not a large city where were not observed the
Sabbath, the fast, and the other ceremonies of the He
brew faith.** Josephus ventured to challenge all who
doubted this to look around in their own neighbor
hood OJ* even their own houses, and see if they would
not flnd his assertion confirmed.** The residence at
Eorae and access to the emperor permitted to several
members of the family of Herod, who performed their
own rites openly, contributed much to the impunity
enjoyed by their religion.*' Besides, the Sabbath pre
vailed as it were of necessity in localities where Jews
resided. Their persistence in keeping their shops
. closed on that day, forced many of their neighbors to
modify their own habits accordingly. Thus at Salonica
it may be said that the Sabbath is observed to this day,
the Jewish population being rich and numerous enough
to make the law, and by the cessation of their own
business to prescribe a day of repose.
Almost as much as the Jew, and often in company with
hira, was the Syrian an active instrument in the conquest
of the West by the East.** They were sometimes con
founded together, and Cicero thought he had discovered
their comraon trait when he called them " nations born
to be slaves."*' It was that which insured to them the
control of the future, for the future then belonged to
the slaves of the earth. Not less characteristic of the
Syrian, was his readiness, quickness, and the superficial
clearness of his thought. The Syrian nature is like the
passing imagery of the clouds. We see every raoraent
certain outlines of graceful form, but they never be-

THE APOSTLES. 247
come united into a complete design. In the darkness,
by the flickering light of a larap, the Syrian woraan
with -her veil, her wistful eyes, and her infinite languor,
causes a brief illusion. Afterwards, when we would
analyse her beauty, it disappears ; it cannot endure ex
araination, and it lasts only three or four years. What
is raost charraing in the Syrian race is the child of five
or six years old, contrary to Greece, where the child
was nothing, the youth inferior to the man, and the
raan to the ancient.** Syrian intelligence attracts us at
first with its air of proraptness and vivacity, but it
lacks fixedness and solidity, something like that " gojden
wine " of Libanus which causes an agreeable excitement,
but soon, palls on the taste. The true gifts of God
have something about them at once fine and strong,
exciting and enduring. Greece is more appreciated
to-day than ever before, and will be more and more
continually. '
Many of the Syrian emigrants who were attracted
westward in the pursuit of fortune were more or less
attached to Judaism. Others remained faithful to the
worship of their own village,*' that is, to the memory of
some temple dedicated to a local " Jupiter "*' who was
ordinarily the Suprerae Deity designated by sorae
special title ;** and they thus carried with them a kind
of monotheisra under the disguise of their strange
divinities. At least in comparison with the perfectly
distinct divine personalities of the Greek and Eoraan
polytheism, the Syrian gods, being mostly synonyraes
of the sun, were almost the brothers of the one
Deity.** Like their long and enervating chants, these
Syrian rites appeared less dry than the Latin and less

248 THE APOSTLES.
empty than the Greek. The women acquired from
thera a mixture pf ecstasy S,nd voluptuousness. Those
Syrian women were always strange creatures, disputed
for by God and Satan, and oscillating between the
saint and the demon. The saint of serious virtues, ofj
heroic self-denial, of accoraplished vows, belongs to
other races and climes. The saint of vivid imagin
ings, of absolute entrancements, and of sudden devo
tion, is the saint of Syria. The demoniac of our
Middle Age becarae the slave of Satan through
baseness or crime; that of Syria was distracted by the
ideal — the woman of wounded affections, who avenges
herself by madness or refusal to speak, and who needs
only a gentle word and kind look to restore her.
Transported to the western world, the Syrian women
acquired influence, sometimes by evil feminine arts,
but oftener by real capacity and moral superiority.
This happened in a special degree about a hundred
and flfty years later, when the most iraportant person
ages of Eome married Syrian wives, who at once ac
quired a great ascendency over affairs. The Mussul
man woraan of the present tirae, a noisy scold and
foolish fanatic, existing for scarce anything but evil,
and almost incapable of virtue, ought not to raake us
forget such as JuHa Domna, Julia Msesa, Julia Ma-
rasea, and Julia Soeraia, who introduced into Eome a
spirit of toleration and a mystical feeling in religion
which were till then unknown. What is also well
worthy of reraark is, that the Syrian dynasty thus es
tablished was friendly to Christianity, and that Ma-
msea, and afterwards the Emperor Philip the Arabian,**
passed for Christians. In the third and fourth centuries

THB APOSTLES. 249
Christianity was the predominant religion of Syria, and
next to Palestine, Syria played the greatest part in its
establishment.
, It was especially at Eorae that the Syrian in the first
century exercised his penetrating activity. Intrusted
with alraost every kind of ordinary duty, guide, mes
senger, and. letter-bearer, the Syru^ was adjmitted
everywhere, bringing with hira the language and raan-
mers of his own land.** He possessed neither the pride
nor the philosophic loftiness of Europeans, much less
their bodily vigor. Of weak frarae, pale and often
feverish, and not knowing how to eat or sleep at stated
hours, after the fashion of our slower races ; consuming
little meat, and subsisting on onions and pumpkins;
sleeping little and uneasily — the Syrian was habitually
ailing and died young.*' What did belong to him was
humility, mildness, affability, and good-nature ; no
solidity of mind, but much that was agreeable ; little
sound sense, unless in driving a bargain ; but an asto
nishing warmth and zeal, and a truly ferainine seduc
tiveness. Having never exercised any political functions,
he was specially apt for religious moveraents. The poor
Maronite, efferainate, humble, and destitute, has brought
about the greatest of revolutions. His ancestor, the
Syrus of Eorae, was the raost zealous raessenger of the
good news to all afflicted souls. Every year colonies
of Syrians arrived in Greece, Italy, and Gaul, irapelled
by their natural taste for trade and small employments.'*
They could be recognised on board of the vessels by.
their numerous farailies, by the troops of pretty chil
dren nearly alike in age, and the mother with the
childish air of a girl of fourteen keeping close to her
11*

250 THE APOSTLES.
husband's side, submissive and smiling, and scarcely
superior to her oldest offspring." The heads . of this
peaceful group are not very strongly raarked. There
is no Archimedes there, no Plato or Phidias. But thist
Syrian trader, now arrived at Eorae, will be a kind and
merciful raan, charitable to his countrymen, and a friend
to the poor. He will talk with the slaves, and reveal
to them an asylura where those miserable beings, con
demned by Eoraan severity to a most dreary solitude,
may find some solace. The Greek and Latin races,
made to be masters and to accomplish great actions,
knew not how to make any advantage of an humble
position." The slave of those races passed his life in
revolt and in plotting evil. The ideal slave of antiquity
has every fault; he is gluttonous, mendacious, mis
chievous, and the natural enemy of his master.'* He
thus, as it were, proved his nobility of race ; he was a
constant protest against an unnatural position. The
easy, good-natured Syrian did not trouble himself to
protest ; he accepted his degradation and sought to do
the best he could with it. He conciliated the kind feel
ings of his raaster, ventured to converse with him, aud
studied how to please his mistress. This great agent
of democracy was thus gnawing apart, mesh by mesh,
the net of Ihe ancient civilization. The old institutions
based upon pride, inequality of races, and military
valor, were lost. Weakness and humble condition were
about to become advantageous, and helps to virtue.'*
The Eoraan nobility, the Greek wisdom, will struggle for
three centuries raore. Tacitus will approve the deporta
tion of some thousands of these wretches — " small loss if
they had perished ! " '* The Eoraan aristocracy will

THB APOSTLES. 251
fret, will be provoked that this canaille should have its
gods and institutions. But the victory is written in
advance. The Syrian, the poor raan who loves his fel
lows, who shares with thera and associates with them,
will carry the day. The Eoman aristocracy must
perish, and perish without pity.
To explain the revolution which is about to take
place, we must take note of the political, social, moral,
intellectual, and religious condition of the countries
through which Jewish proselytism has thus opened fur
rows for the Christian preaching to sow the seed. Such
an exaraination will show convincingly, I hope, that
the conversion of the world to the Jewish and Christian
ideas was inevitable, and will leave us astonished at
only one thing — namely, that that conversion proceeded
so slowly and commenced so late.

CHAPTEE XVIL
STATE OF THE WOELD IN THE FIEST CENTUET.
The political condition of the world was most melan
choly. All power was conceptrated at Eome and
in the legions. The raost sharaeful and degrading
scenes were daily enacted. The Eoman aristocracy,
which had conquered the world, and which alone of
all the people had any voice in public business under
the Caesars, had abandoned itself to a Saturnalia of the
most outrageous wickedness the huraan race ever
witnessed. Csesar and Augustus, in establishing the
imperial power, saw perfectly the necessities of the
age. The world was so low in its political relations,
that no other form of government was possible. Now
that Eome had conquered nuraberless provinces, the
ancient constitution, which was based upon the existence
of a privileged patrician class, a kind of obstinate
and raalevolent Tories, could not continue.' But Au
gustus had signally neglected every suggestion of true
policy, by leaving the future to chance. Destitute of
any canon of hereditary succession, of any settled rules
concerning adoption, and of any law regulating election,
Csesarism was like an enorraous load on the deck of a
vessel- without ballast. The most terrible shocks were
inevitable. Three times in a century, under Caligula,
Nero, and Doraitian, the greatest power that was ever
united in one person fell into "the hands of most ex-

THE APOSTLES. 253
travagant and execrable raen. Horrors were enacted
which have hardly been surpassed by the monsters of
the Mongol dynasties. In that fatal list of monarchs,
one is reduced to apologizing for a Tiberius, who only
attained thorough detestableness towards the close of
his life ; and for a Claudius, who was only eccentric,
blundering, and badly advised. Eorae became a school
of vice and cruelty. It should be added that the vice
came, in a great degree, from the East, from those
parasites of low rank and those infaraous men whom
Egypt and Syria sent to Eome,' and who, profiting by
the oppression of the true Eomans, succeeded in attain
ing great influence over the wretches who governed.
The most disgus'ting ignominies of the empire, such as
the apotheosis of the emperors and their deification dur
ing life, came from the East, and particularly from
Egypt, which was at that period one of the raost corrupt
countries on the face of the earth.*
However, the veritable Eoman nature still survived,
and nobility of soul was far frora extinct. The lofty
traditions of pride and virtue, which were preserved in
a few families, attained the imperial throne with Nerva,
and gave its splendor to the age bf the Antonines, of
which Tacitus is the elegant historian. An age in
which such true and noble natures as those oiQuintilian,
Tacitus, and Pliny the Younger were produced, need
not be wholly despaired of. The corruption of the
surface did not extend to the great raass of seriousness
and honor which existed in the better Eoraan society,
and many examples are yet preserved of devotion to
order, duty, peace, and solid integrity. There were
in the noble houses admirable wives and sisters.* Was

254 THE APOSTLES.
there ever a more touching fate than that of the young
and chaste Octavia, the daughter of Claudius, and wife
of Nero, remaining pure in the midst of infamy, and
slain at twenty- two years of age, without having known
a single joy? The epithets " castissimcB,.univircB," are
not at all rare in the inscriptions.® Some wives accom
panied their husbands into exile,* and others shared their
noble deaths.' The ancient Eoman simplicity was not
lost. The children were soberly and carefully brought
up. The most noble ladies worked with their own
hands at woollen fabrics,* and the excesses of the toilet
were almost unknown in the higher families.'
The excellent statesmen who, so to speak, sprang
from the earth under Trajan, were not improvised.
They had served in preceding reigns; but they had
enjoyed but little infiuence, and had been cast into the
shade by the freedmen and favorite slaves of the
Emperor. . Thus we find men of the first ability occu
pying high posts under Nero. The framework was
good. The accession of bad emperors, disastrous as it
was, could not change at once the general tendency of
affairs, and the principles of the government. The
empire, far from being in its decay, was in the full
strength of vigorous youth. Decay will come, but two
centuries later ; and, strange to say, under much more
worthy monarchs. In its political phase, the situation
was analogous to that of France, which, deprived by
the Eevolution of any established rule for the succession-
has yet passed through so many perilous changes with
out greatly injuring its internal organization or its
national strength. In its moral aspectj the period under
consideration may be compared to the eighteenth cen-

THB APOSTLES. 255
tury, an epoch entirely corrupt, if we form our judgment
from the memoirs, manuscripts, literature, and anecdotes
of the time, but in which, nevertheless, some families
maintained the greatest austerity of morals.'*
Philosophy joined hands with the better farailies of
Eome, and resisted nobly. The Stoic school produced
the lof ty _ characters of Oremutius Cordus, Thraseas,
Arria, Helvidius Priscus, Annseus Cornutus, and
Musonius Eufus, admirable masters of aristocratic
virtue. The rigidity and exaggeration of this school
arose from the horrible cruelty of the Caesars. The
continual thought of a good man was how to inure him
self to suffering, and prepare hiraself for death." Lucan,
iu bad taste, and Persius with superior talent, both gave
utterance to the loftiest sentiments of a great soul.
Seneca the philosopher, Pliny the Elder, and Papirius
Fabianus, kept up a high standard of science and philo
sophy. Every one did not yield ; there were a few wise
raen left. Too often, however, they had no resource
but death. The ignoble portions of huraanity at times
got the upper hand. Then madness and cruelty ruled
the hour, and made of Eome a veritable hell."
The government, although so fearfully unstable at
Eome, was much better in the provinces. At a distance
the shocks which agitated the capital were hardly felt.
In spite of its defects, the Eoman administration was far
superior to the kingdoms and comraon weal ths it had
supplanted. The time for sovereign municipalities had
long gone by. Those little States had destroyed them
selves by their egotism, their jealousies, and their igno
rance or neglect of individual freedom. The ancient life
of Greece, all struggle, all external, no longer satisfied

256 THE ApOSTLES.
any one. It had been glorious in its day, but that bril
liant democratic Olympus of demi-gods had lost its
freshness, and become dry, cold, unmeaning, vain,
superflcial, and lacking in both head and heart. Hence
the success of the Macedonian rule, and afterwards of
the Eoman. The empire had not yet fallen into the
error of excessive centralization. Until the time of
Diocletian, the provinces and cities enjoyed much liberty.
Kingdoms almost independent existed in Palestine, Syria,
Asia Minor, Lesser Armenia, and Thrace, under the pro
tection of Eome. These kingdoms became factious after
Caligula, only because the profound policy of Augustus
concerning them was diverged from in succeeding
reigns.'* The nuinerous free cities were governed
according to their own laws, and had the legislative
power and raagistracy of autonoraic States. Until the
third century their raunicipal decrees coraraenced with
the formula, "The Senate and People of  — ".'*
The theatres were not simply places for scenic arause-
ment, but were foci of opinion and discussion. Most of
the towns were, in different ways, little coraraon wealths.
The raunicipal spirit was very strong.'* They had lost
only the power to declare war, a fatal power which
made the world a field of carnage. " The benefits con
ferred by Eorae upon raankind," were the theme of
adulatory addresses everywhere, to which, however, it
would be unjust to deny some sincerity.'* The doctrine
of " the Peace of Eome," " the idea of a vast democracy
organized under Eoman protection, lay at the bottora of
all political speculations.'* A Greek rhetorician displays
vast erudition in proving that Eoraan glory should be
claimed by all the branches of the Hellenic race as a

THE APOSTLES. 257
common patrimony." In regard to Syria, Asia Minor,
and Egypt, we may say that the Eoman conquest did
not destroy any of their liberties. Those nations had
either been already long dead to political life, or had
never enjoyed it.
Finally, in spite of the extortions of governors and
of the violence which is inseparable from despotic
sway, the world had in many respects never been so
well off. An administration corning from a remote
centre was so great an advantage, that even the rapa
cious Praetors of the latter days of the Eepublic had
failed to render it unpopular. The Julian law had
also narrowed down the scope of abuses and pecula
tions. The follies or cruelties of the eraperor, except
under Nero, reached only the Eoman aristocracy and
the immediate followers of the prince. Never had
raen who did not care to busy themselves about poli
tics been able to live more at ease. The ancient
republics, in which every one was compelled to take
part in the factions, were very uncomfortable places
of residence." There was continually going on some
disorganization or proscription. But under the empire
the time seeraed raade expressly for great proselytisras
which should overrule both the quarrels of neighbor
hoods and the rivalry of dynasties. Attacks on liberty
were much more frequently owing to the remnants of
the provincial or communal authority than to the Eo
man administration." Of this truth we have had and
shall have many occasions to take note.
For those of the conquered countries where political
privileges had been unknown for ages, and which lost
nothing but the right of destroying themselves by con-

258 THE APOSTLES.
tinual wars, the empire was such an era of prosperity
and well-being as they had never befpre experienced ;
and we may add, without being paradoxical, that it was
also for them an era of liberty." On the one hand, a
freedom of comraerce and industry, of which the Gre
cian States had no conception, became possible. On
the other hand, the new rigime could not but be favor
able to freedora of thought. This freedom is always
greater under a monarchy than under the rule of jea
lous and narrow-minded citizens, and it was unknown
in the ancient republics. The Greeks accoraplished
great things without it, thanks to the incoraparable
force of their genius ; but we must not forget that Athens
had a coraplete inquisition.'* The Chief Inquisitor
was represented by the archon, and the Holy Office by
the royal portico whence issued the accusations of
" impiety." These were numerous, and it is in this
kind of causes that we find the Attic orators most fre
quently engaged. Not only philosophic heresies, such
as the denial" of a God or of Providence, but the slight
est infractions of the rules of municipal worship, the
preaching of foreign religions, and the most puerile
departures from the absurdly strict legislation concern
ing the mysteries, were crimes punishable by death.
The gods at whom Aristophanes scoffed on the stage,
could sometimes slay. They slew Socrates, and almost
Alcibiades ; and they persecuted Anaxagoras, Protago
ras, Theodoras, Diagoras of Melos, Prodicus of Ceos,
Stilpo, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Aspasia, and Euri
pides.'* Liberty of thought was, in fact, the fruit of
the kingdoms which arose out of the Macedonian con
quests. An Attalus and a Ptolemy first allowed the

THE APOSTLES. 259
thinker those liberties which none of the old republics
had perraitted. The Eoraan empire continued the
same policy. There was, indeed, under the empire
more than one arbitrary decree against the philoso
phers, but it was always called forth by their entering
into political schemes.'* We may search in vain the
Eoraan law before Constantine for a single passage
against freedom of thought; and the history of the •im
perial governraent furnishes no instance of a prosecu
tion for entertaining an abstract doctrine. No scien
tific man was molested. Men like Galen, Lucan, arid
Plotinus, who would have gone to the stake in the Mid
dle Age, lived tranquilly under the protection of the
law. The empire inaugurated liberty in this respect ;
it extinguished the despotic sovereignty of the family,
the town, and the tribe, and replaced or tempered it
by that of the State. But despotic power is the more
vexatious the narrower its sphere of action. The old
republics and the Feudal systera oppressed individuals
much more than did the state. The empire at times
persecuted Christianity most severely, but at least it did
not arrest its progress.'* Eepublics, however, would
have overcome the new faith. Even Judaism would
have smothered it, but for the pressure of Eoraan
authority. The Eoman magistrates were all that hin
dered the Pharisees from destroying Christianity at the
outset." Expanded ideas of universal brotherhood and a
sympathy with humanity at large, derived for, the most
part from the Stoic philosophy,'* were the results of the
broader system of authority and the less conflned
education which had now assumed control." Men

260 THE APOSTLES.
dreamed of a new era and of new worlds.'" , The pub
lic wealth was great, and notwithstanding the imper
fect econoraic doctrines of the day, was considerably
diffused. Morals were not what is often iraagined.
At Eome, it is true, every kind of vice paraded itself
with revolting cynicism,*' and the public shows in par
ticular had introduced a frightful degree of corrup
tion. Some countries, Egypt for example, had sounded
the lowest depths of infaray. But in most of the pro
vinces there was a raiddle class in which good-nature,
conjugal fldelity, probity, and the domestic virtues,
were generally practised.*' Is there anywhere an ideal
of domestic life araong the honest citizens of small
towns more charming than that presented to us by
Plutarch ? What kindness, what gentle raanners, what
chaste and amiable simplicity!** Chaeronea was evi
dently not the only place where life was so pure and
innocent. The popular tendencies were yet somewhat cruel even
outside of Eome ; perhaps as the remnant of antique
manners, which were everywhere sanguinary, perhaps as
the special effect of Eoman severity. But a marked im
provement iu this respect was taking place. What pure
or gentle sentiment, what impression of melancholy
tenderness had not received its finest expression from
the pens of Virgil and Tibullus ? The world was losing
its ancient rigidity and acquiring softness and sensibility.
Maxims of common huraanity became current,** and the
Stoics earnestly taught the abstract notions of equality
and the rights of man.** Woman, under the dotal sys
tem of Eoman law, was becoming raore and more her
own raistress. The treatraent of slaves was improving ;**

THE APOSTLES. 261
Seneca admitted his to his own table.^' The slave was
no longer that grotesque and malignant creature which
Latin comedy introduced to excite laughter, and which
Cato recommended to be treated as a beast of burden.**
The times had changed. The slave was now raorally
equal to his raaster, and was admitted to be capable of
virtue, fidelity, and devotion, of which he had given
abundant proofs.*' Prejudices of birth were becoraing
effaced.** Many just and huraane laws were enacted,
even under the worst emperors.*' Tiberius was a skil
ful financier, and established, upon an excellent basis
a system of public credit.*' Nero introduced into
the taxation, which had previously been unequal and
barbarous, some improveraents which throw discredit
even on our own times.** The progress of the theory of
legislation was also considerable, although the death-
penalty was still absurdly general. Charity to the poor,
and sympathy for all, became virtues.**
The theatre was a most insupportable scandal to decent
citizens, and one of the chief causes which excited the
antipathy of Jews and Judaized people of every kind
against the profane civilization of the age. To their
eyes, those vast inclosures were gigantic clockcce in whioh
all the vices were collected. While the lower benches
applauded, in the upper were often displayed disgust
and horror. The gladiatorial spectacles established
themselves with difficulty in the provinces. At least the
Hellenic provinces repelled them, and generally adhered
to the ancient Grecian games.** Bloody sports always
retained in the East distinct marks of Eoraan origin.**
The Athenians having one day debated the introduc
tion of these barbarous sports in iraitation of Corinth,*'

262 THE APOSTLES.
a philosopher arose and moved that they should first
raze to the ground the altar of Pity.** Thus it happened
that one of the most profound sentiments of the primi
tive Christians, and one, too, which produced the most
extended results, was detestation of the theatre, the
stadium, the gymnasiura ; that is to say, of all the public
resorts which gave its distinctive character to a Grecian
or Eoraan city. Ancient civilization was a public civil
ization. Its affairs were transacted, in the open air in
presence of the asserabled citizens; It was the inversion
of our systera, in which life is private, and is inclosed
within the walls of our dwellings. The theatre was the
offspring of the agora and the forum. The anathema
against the theatre rebounded against society in general.
A bitter rivalry grew up between the Church and the
public games. The slave, driven away frora the latter,
betook hiraself to the former. I have never seated my
self in those raelancholy arenas, which are always the
best-preserved relics of an ancient city, without seeing
in iraagination the struggle of the two systems. Here,
the honest and humble citizen, already half a Christian,
sitting in the first row, covering his face and going- away
ashamed; there, the philosopher, rising suddenly and
openly reproaching the assemblage with its baseness.**
These examples were rare in the first century, but the
protest was beginning to make itself heard,** and the
theatre was receiving more and raore reprobation.*'
The laws and administrative regulations of the em
pire were as yet a veritable chaos. Central despotism,
municipal and provincial franchises, administrative
caprice and the self-will of commonalties, jostled each
other in the strangest manner. But religious liberty

THE APOSTLES. 263
was a gainer by these confiicts. The coraplete unity
of administration, which was established at about the
time of Trajan, proved much more fatal to the rising
faith Hhau the irregular, careless, and poorly-policed
system of the Caesars.
Institutions of public charity, founded on the doc
trine that the State owes paternal duties to its subjects,
were not rauch developed until after the reigns of
Nerva and Trajan.*' A few traces of thera, however,
are found in the first century.** There were already
charities for children,** distributions of food to the poor,
fixed rates for the sale of bread with inderanity pro
vided for the tradesraen, precautions in regard to sup
ply of provisionSj assurance against pirates, and orders
enabling persons to buy grain at reduced prices.** All
the eraperors, without exception, raanifested the great
est solicitude on these topics, which raay indeed be
called subordinate, but which at certain tiraes rule
everything else. In refiiote antiquity there was not
much need of public charity. The world was young
and strong, and required no hospital. The good and
simple Homeric morality, according to which the guest
and the beggar are sent by Jove, is the raorality of
strong and cheerful youth.** Greece, in her classic age,
enounced the raost touching maxiras of pity and bene
volence, without connecting with thera any conception
of sadness or social raisfortune." Man was yet at that
epoch healthy and happy ; how could he look forward
and provide against evil days !
But in respect to institutions for rautual assistance,
the Greeks were far in advance of the Eomans.** Not
a solitary liberal or benevolent arrangement was evei-

264 THE APOSTLES.
devised by that cruel aristocracy which, as long as the
republic endured, wielded such an oppressive authority.
At the epoch we are now considering, the colossal
fortunes and luxury of the nobility, the vast agglome
rations of people at certain points, and above all the
peculiar and implacable hard-heartedness ofthe Eomans,
had caused the rise of pauperism.** The indulgence of
some of the emperors to the Eoman mob had aggra
vated this evil. The public distributions of corn en
couraged idleness and vice, and provided no remedy
for misery. In this, as in many other things, the Ori
ental world was superior. The Jews possessed real
institutions of charity. The Egyptian temples seem to
have soraetimes had a fund for the poor.** The male
and female colleges of the Serapeum at Memphis were
also to some extent charitable establishments.*' The
terrible crisis through which humanity was passing in
the capital was scarcely perceived in distant provinces
where the mode of life remained simple. The re
proach of having poisoned the whole earth, the liken
ing of Eorae to a harlot who had made the earth drunk
with the wine of her fornication, was in many respects
just.*' The provinces were better than Eome ; or more
properly, the impure elements which gathered together
from all quarters into the metropolis, made her a sink
of iniquity, in which the old Eoman vii-tnes were
smothered, and the good seed brought from elsewhere
grew with difficulty.
The intellectual condition of the different parts of
the erapire was quite unsatisfactory. In this respect
there had been a real decline. High mental culture is
not as independent of political circumstances as is pri-

THE APOSTLES. 265
vate morality. Besides, the progress of high raental
culture and that of morality are not exactly parallel.
Marcus Aurelius was certainly a better man than all
the old Greek philosophers. Yet his positive notions
in regard to the realities of the universe were inferior to
those of Aristotle and Epicurus ; for he believed at
times in dreams and omens, and in the gods as cora
plete and distinct personalities. The world was then
undergoing a raoral iraprovement and an intellectual
decline. Frora Tiberius to Nerva this decline is very
perceptible. The Greek genius, with a force, origi
nality, and copiousness which have never been equalled,
had in the course of several centuries created the ra
tional encyclopaedia, the normal discipline of the mind.
This wonderful movement commenced with Thales,
and the earliest Ionian schools (600 years before Chi-ist),
and was stopped about b.c 120. The last survivors
of these five centuries of intellectual progress, ApoUo
nius of Perga, Eratosthenes, Aristarchus, Hero, Archi
medes, Hipparchus, Chrysippus, Carneades, and Pane-
- tins, had departed, leaving no successors. Only Posido-
nius and a few astronomers kept up the ancient
reputation of Alexandria, Ehodes, and Pergamus.
Greece, however fertile in creative genius, had not
extracted from her science and philosophy any system
of popular instruction or remedy against superstition.
Possessing admirable scientiflc institutes, Egypt, Asia
Minor, and Greece herself were at the same time given
over to the most senseless credulity. But if science
does not succeed in getting the upper hand over super
stition, superstition will extinguish science. Between
these two opposing forces, the combat is to the death.
12

265 THE APOSTLES.
Ital}', while adopting Greek science, had for a time in
spired it with a new sentiment. Lucretius had furnished
the model of the great philosophic poem, at once a hymn
and a blasphemy, by turns imparting serenity and de
spair, and imbued with that profound view of human
destiny which was always wanting in the Greeks, who,
childlike as they were, took life so gaily that they never
dreamed of cui-sing the Gods, or of accusing nature of
injustice and treachery towards man. Graver thoughts
occurred to the Latin philosophers. But Eome as well
as Greece failed to make science the basis of popular edu
cation. While Cicero, with exquisite taste, was transfer
ring into a polished form the ideas he borrowed from the
Greeks; while Lucretius was composing his wonderful
poem; while Horace was avowing his frank infidelity
in the ear of Augustus, who expressed no surprise;
while Ovid, one of the most pleasing poets of the time,
was treating venerable traditions after the m.anner of an
elegant free-thinker ; and while the great Stoics were
developing the practical results of Greek philosophy,
the silliest chimeras met with full credence, and the be
lief in the marvellous was unbounded. Never were peo
ple more ready for prophecies and prodigies.** The eclec
tic deism of Cicero,*' perfected by Seneca,** remained the
creed of a few cultivated minds, but exercised no influ
ence on the age.
Down to Vespasian, the empire had nothing which
can be called public instruction.** What it afterwards
possessed was confined to a few dry grammatical ex
ercises, and the general decline became rather .iccelerated
than retarded. The last days of the republic and the
reign of Augustus, witnessed one of the most brilhant

THE APOSTLES. 267
literary epochs that has ever occurred. But after the
death of the great emperor, the decline raay as properly
"be called sudden as rapid. The intelligent and cultivat
ed society in which had raoved Cicero, Atticus, Csesar,
Maecenas, Agrippa, and PoUio, had vanished like a dreara.
Doubtless enlightened men remained; men familiar with
the leaming of their day, and occupying high positions,
such as Lucilius, Pliny, Gallic, and the Senecas, with
the literary circle which gathered around them. The
body of Eoraan law, which is codified philosophy, which
is Greek rationalism reduced to practice, continued its
majestic growth. The noble Eoman families had pre
served a basis of purer religion and a horror of what
they called "superstition."*' The geographers, Strabo
and Poraponius Mela ; the physician and encyclopasdist,
Celsus ; the botanist, Dioscorides ; the jurist, Sempronius
Proculus — were able and liberal raen. But these were
exceptions ; leaving out a few thousand enlightened per
sons, the world was immersed in profound ignorance of
the laws of nature.** Credulity was a universal mala
dy .** Literary culture was dwindling into a mere rheto
rical shell, which contained no kernel. The essentially
moral and practical tum which philosophy had taken,
banished profound speculation. Human knowledge, if
we except geography, raade no advances. The schooled
and lettered araateur replaced the creative and original
student. Here was felt the fatal influence of the great
defect in Eoman character. That race, so mighty to
command, was secondary in genius. The most cultivat
ed Eomans, Lucretius, Vitruvius, Celsus, Pliny, .Seneca,
were, so far as regards positive knowledge, the pupils of
the Greeks. Too often, indeed, it was second-rate Greek

268 THE APOSTLES.
learning which they reproduced in a second-rate style."
Eome never possessed a great scientific school. Charla
tanism reigned there alraost suprerae. Finally the Latin
literature, which certainly displayed sorae adrairable quali
ties, flourished during only a brief period, and never
made its^way beyond the occidental world."
Greece fortunately continued faithful to her genius.
The prodigious splendor of Eoraan power had dazzled and
stunned, but not annihilated it. In fifty years more we
shall find her reconquering the world, giving again her
laws to thought, and sharing the throne of the Antonines.
But at this period Greece herself was passing through
one of her intervals of lassitude. Genius was scarce, and
original science inferior to what it had been in preceding
ages, and to what it would be in the following. The
Alexandrian school, which had been declining for nearly
two centuries, but still at Caesar's era could furnish a
Sosigenes, was now dumb.
The space from the death of Augustus to the accession
of Trajan must, then, be classed as a period of temporary
degradation for the human intellect. The ancient world
had by no means uttered its last word, but the bitter
trials through which it was passing took from it both
voice and courage. When brighter days return, and
genius shall be delivered from the terrible sway of the
Ceesars, she will take heart again. Epictetus, Plutarch,
Dionysius the golden-mouthed, Quintilian, Tacitus,
Pliny the Younger, Juvenal, Eufus of Ephesus,
Aretaeus, Galen, Ptolemy, Hypsicles, Theon, and Lucan,
will renew the palmy days of Greece ; not that inimitable
Greece' which existed but once for the simultaneous
delight and despair of all who love the beautiful, but a

THE APOSTLES. 269
Greece still fruitful and abounding, which will mingle
her own gifts with the Eoman genius, and produce
works of novelty and originality yet able to charm the
world. The general taste was bad. Great Greek writers were
wanting ; and the Latin writers extant, except the satirist
Persius, are of an ordinary type. Excessive declamation
spoiled everything. The rule by which the public
judged intellectual productions was nearly the same as
it is now. Only brilliancy was looked for. Language
ceased to be the simple vestment of thought, deriving
all its elegance from its perfect adaptation to the idea
sought to be expressed. Language began to be cultivated
for its own sake. The aim of an author in his writings
was to display his own talent. The excellence of a reci
tation or public reading was measured by the number of
passages which excited applause. The cardinal principle
that in art everything should serve as ornament, but that
anything inserted expressly as ornament is bad, was en
tirely forgotten. It was a very literary period, as they
say. Hardly anything was talked of but eloquence and
style ; and after all, nearly everybody wrote incorrectly,
and there was not a solitary orator. The true orator and
writer are not those who make speaking or writing their
trade. At the theatre, the principal actor absorbed at
tention, and dramas were suppressed in order that bril
liant passages might be recited. The literary fashion of
the day was a silly dilettantism, a foolish vanity which led
everybody to affect talent, and which did not stop short
of the imperial throne. Hence extreme insipidity and
interminable " Theseids," or dramas written to be read in
literary circles; and hence a dreary desert of poetical

270 THE APOSTLES.
commonplace, which can be compared only to the epics
and classic tragedies of sixty years ago.
Stoicisra itself could not escape this disease, or at
least it did not before Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius
succeeded in clothing its doctrines in an elegant vesture.
What strange productions are those tragedies of Seneca,
in which the loftiest sentiments are expressed in the
most wearisome style of literary quackery ! indices at
once of moral advancement and of an irremediable
decline of taste. We are corapelled to say the same of
Lucan. The tension of raind which resulted naturally
frora the erainently tragic character of the epoch, gave
rise to a species of infiation, in which state the only
anxiety was to win applause by brilliant sentences.
Soraething analogous to this happened amongst us
during the Eevolution ; aud the most terrible crisis
which ever existed produced scarcely anything hut a
schoolmaster's literature, crararaed with declamation.
We must not, however, stop at this point. New ideas
are soraetiraes expressed with much ostentation. The
style of Seneca is sober, siraple, and pure, in com
parison with that of St. Augustine. But we forgive
the latter his detestable style and insipid conceits, in
return for his noble sentiments.
At all events this cultivation, which was in many
respects noble and superior, did not extend to the
people. This would have been a minor deprivation,
if the people had had at least some religious nourish
ment, something similar to that which the Church pro
vides for the lowest grades of modern society. But
religion was at a very low ebb in all parts of the em
pire. The wise policy of Eome had left unmolested

THE APOSTLES. 271
the ancient forras of worship, prohibiting only those
observances which were inhuman," seditious, or inju
rious to others.'* She had spread over thera all a sort
of official varnish, which gave them sorae general resem
blance, and blended thera, good and bad, together.
Unfortunately these old creeds, though very diverse in
origin, had one coraraon characteristic. It was equally
impossible for any and all of thera to provide theological
instruction, applied morality, edifying preaching, or a
pastoral ministry productive of good among the people.
The pagan temple was never what the synagogue and
the Church were in their best days — that is, a comraon
home, school, inn, hospital, and refuge for the poor.'* It
was only a chilly cell which the people seldora entered,
and where they never learned anything.
The Eoman worship was perhaps the least objection
able of those which were yet practised. In it, purity of
soul and body was considered a part of religion.'* By its
gravity, its decency, and its austerity, this form of wor
ship, leaving out a few extravagances similar to our Car
nival, was far superior to the grotesque and sometimes
absurd cereraonies which were secretly introduced by
those seized with the mania for Oriental customs. Still,
the aff'ectation with which the Eoman patricians distin
guished " religion" — that is, their own rites — ^frora those
of foreigners, which they called ^'¦superstition," cannot
but appear to us puerile enough.'* All the pagan forms
of worship were essentially superstitious. The peasant
who, in modern times, drops his penny into the contri
bution-box of a holy chapel, who invokes his saint in
behalf of his oxen or his horses, or who drinks ceTtaiu
waters to cure certain diseases, is so far forth a pagan.

272 THE APOSTLES.
Nearly all our superstitions are the remains of a reli
gion anterior to Christianity, and which it has not yet
succeeded in completely rooting out. K one would
find at this day the image of paganism, he may seek it
in some secluded village lying hid in the recesses of
sorae unfrequented province.
The heathen religions, having no guardians but the
varying traditions of the people and a few greedy
sacristans, could not fail to degenerate into adulation."
Augustus, although with sorae reserve, perraitted wor
ship of himself in some of the provinces during his
lifetime.'* Tiberius allowed the decision in his own
presence, of the ignoble competition of the cities of
Asia, which disputed among themselves the honor of
building a temple to him." The extravagant impieties
of Caligula produced no reaction.** Outside of Juda
ism there did not seem to be a single priest manly
enough to resist such follies. Sprung for the most part
from a priraitive worship of the forces of nature, trans
formed over and over again by mixtures of all sorts,
and by popular imagination, the pagan religions were
confined by their antecedents. They could not afford
what they never contained — the idea of real divinity,
or popular instruction. The fathers of the Church occa
sion a sraile when they aniraadvert upon the misdeeds
of Saturn as a father, and of Jupiter as a husband.
But it was certainly much raore absurd to erect Jupi
ter {i.e. the atraosphere) into a moral divinity, who
commanded, forbade, rewarded, and punished. In a
state of society which was aspiring to possess a cate-
chisnr, what could be done with a worship like that of
Venus, which arose out of a social necessity of the early

THE APOSTLES. 273
Phoenician navigation in the Mediterranean sea, but
becarae in time an outrage on what was becoming
more and raore regarded as the essence of religion.
On every side, in fact, an energetic tendency was '
manifested towards a monotheistic religion, whicli
should provide divine comraand as a foundation of
morality. There occurs in this manner a crisis when
the naturalistic religions have become reduced to mere
childishness and the grimaces of jugglers, and can no
longer answer the wants of society. Then humanity
requires a raoral and philosophical religion. Buddhisra
and Zoroasterism responded to this requireraent in
India and Persia. Orphisra and the Mysteries had
attempted the sarae thing in the Grecian worid without
achieving a lasting success. At the period we are con
sidering, the problera presented itself to the entire
world with soleran universality and iraposing grandeur.
Greece, it is true, formed an exception in this
respect. Hellenism was much less worn out than the
other religions of the empire. Plutarch, in his little
Boeotian town, lived in the practice of Hellenism —
tranquil, happy, and contented as a child, and with a
religious conscience entirely undisturbed. In hira we see
no trace of a crisis ; of distraction, uneasiness, or fear of
impending revolution. But it was only the Greek mind
which was capable of such childlike serenity. Always
pleased with herself, proud of her past and of that bril
liant mythology, all of whose sacred places lay within
' her borders, Greece did not participate in the internal
disquiet of the world. She alone did not invite Chris
tianity ; she alone would have preferred to do without
it, and she alone made pretensions of doing better.*'
12*

274 THE APOSTLES.
This was the result of the everlasting youthfulness,
patriotic feeling, and unconquerable gaiety which
always marked the genuine son of Hellas, and which
to this day render the Greek a stranger to the profound
anxieties which prey upon us. Hellenism was thus in
a condition to attempt a renaissance, which no other
religion existing at the time could hope for. In the
second, third, and fourth centuries of our era, Hellenism
had forraed itself into an organized system of religion,
by means of a welding, as it were, of the old mytho
logy and the Grecian philosophy; and what with its
miracle-working sages, its old writers elevated to the
ranks of prophets, and its legends about Pythagoras
and ApoUonius, set up a competition with Christianity,
which, though it ultimately failed, was yet one of the
raost dangerous obstacles that the religion of Jesus
found in its way.
This attempt had not yet been made in the time of the
Caesars. The first philosophers who endeavored to bring
about the alliance between philosophy and paganism,
were Euphrates of Tyre, ApoUonius of Tyana, and
Plutarch, at the close of the century. Euphrates of
Tyre is but little known to us. Legend has so com
pletely disguised the plot of the real life of ApoUonius,
that it is impossible to say whether he should be con
sidered the founder of a religion, a sage, or a charlatan.
As to Plutarch, he was not so much an original thinker
and innovator as a raoderate reformer, who wished to
bring the world to one mind by rendering philosophy
a little timid and religion at least one-half rational. He
has nothing of the character of Porphyry or Julian.
The attempts of the Stoics at allegorical exegesis were

THE . APOSTLES. 275
very feeble.*' Mysteries like those of Bacchus, in which
the immortality of the soul was taught through graceful
symbols,** were confined to certain localities' aud had no
extended influence. Disbelief in the official religion
was general in the enlightened class.** Those public
men who made the greatest pretension of upholding it,
expended their wit upon it freely in raoments of leisure.**
The immoral doctrine was openly propounded, that the
religious fables were only of use in governing the people,
and ought to be maintained for that purpose.** The
precaution was useless, for the faith of the people them
selves was shaken to the foundation.*'
After the accession of Tiberius, a religious rq(p,ction
was perceptible. It would seem that society was shocked
at the avowed infidelity of the Augustan age. The way
was prepared for the unlucky attempt of Julian, and all
the superstitions were reinstated for reasons of state-
policy.** Valerius Maximus affords the first exaraple of
a writer of low rank coraing to the relief of cornered
theologians ; of a dirty, venal pen put to the service of
religion. But the foreign rites profited the most by this reaction-
The serious movement in favor of the rehabilitation of
the Greco-Eoman worship did not develop itself until
the second century. At first, the classes troubled by
religious misgivings were attracted towards the Oriental
forms.*' Isis and Serapis were raore in favor than ever.'*
Impostors of all sorts thaumaturgists and magicians,
profited by the popular, mood, and, as ordinarily takes
place when the state-religion is enfeebled, swarmed on
every side." We need only refer to the real or fictitious
systems of ApoUonius of Tyana, Alexander of Abono-

276 THE APOSTLES.
ticus, Perigrinus, and Simon of Gitto." Even these
errors and chimerae were the cry of a world in labor ;
were the fruitless essays of human society in search of
the truth, and sometiines in its convulsive efforts un
earthing monstrous deformities destined to speedy obli
vion. On the whole, the middle of the first century was
one of the worst epochs of ancient history. Grecian
and Eoman society had declined frora its former condi
tion, and was far behind the ages which were to follow.
The greatness of the crisis revealed a strange and
secret process going on. Life seeraed to have lost its
motiv^ ; suicide became comraon.'* Never had an
age presented so dire a struggle between good and
evil. The powers of evil were a terrible despotism
which delivered the world to the hands of raonsters
and madmen, corruption of morals arising from the
importation of Oriental vices, and the want of a pure
religion and decent public instruction. The powers ot
good were on the one side, philosophy fighting with
bared breast against tyranny, defjnng the monstere ot
oppression, aud three or four tiraes proscribed in half a
century (under Nero, Vespasian, and Doraitian) ;'* on
the other side, the struggles of popular virtue, the
legitimate longings for a better religion, the tendency
towards confraternities and monotheistic creeds, and
the recognition of the lower classes which occurred
chiefiy under cover of Judaism and Christianity. These
two great protests were far frora being accordant.
The philosophic party and the Christian party were
not acquainted with each other, and had so little per
ception of their common interest that when the philo-.

THB APOSTLES. 277
sophers came into power by the accession of Nerva,
they were far from being favorable to Christianity.
In truth, the aim of the Christians was much more
radical. The Stoics, when they became mastei-s of the
empire, reformed it, and presided over a hundred of
the happiest yeare in the history of man. The Chris
tians, when they became mastere of the empire, ended ,
by destroying it. The heroism of the latter ought not
to make us unmindful of that of the forraer. Christi
anity was always unjust towards pagan virtues, and
made it her business to decry the very men who had
fought against the same common enemy. There was as
much grandeur in the struggle of philosophy in the first
century as in that of Christianity ; but how uneq'ual has
been the recompense. The martyr who overturned
idols with his foot lives in pious legend. Why are not
the statues of Annaeus Cornutus, who declared in pre
sence of Nero that the emperor's writings would never
be worth those of Chrysippus'-^ — of Helvidius Priscus,
who told Vespasian to his face, " It is thine to raurder —
it is raine to die ! " — ^ of Demetrius the Cynic, who an
swered an enraged Nero, "You may menace me with
death; but nature threatens you"" — placed among-st
those of the world's heroes whom all love and to whom
every one pays homage ? Is humanity so strong in her
battle with vice and depravity, that any school of virtue
can repel the aid of others, and maintain that itself alone
has the right to be brave, lofty, and resigned ?

CHAPTEE XVIIL
EELIGIOUS LEGISLATION OF THE PEEIOD.
During the flrst century of the Christian era, the
empire, while manifesting raore or less hostility to the
religious innovations which were imported from the
East, did not declare open war against thera. The
doctrine of a state-religion was not clearly deflned or
vigorously upheld. At different epochs under the re
public, foreign rites had been proscribed, especially
those of Sabazius, Isis, and Serapis.' But those mys
terious systeras presented such irresistible attractions
to the common people, that the proscription proved
unavailing.' When (a. u. c. 535) the demolition of the teraple
of Isis and Serapis was decreed, not a workraan could
be found to coraraence it, and the consul hiraself had
to set the exaraple by breaking down the -doors with
an axe.* It is evident that the Latin creed was no
longer satisfying to the raasses ; and we may suppose
with good reason that it was for the purpose of grati
fying the popular instincts that the rites of Isis and
Serapis were reestablished by Caesar.*
That great man, with the profound and liberal intui
tion which characterized him, had shown himself favor
able to entire freedora of conscience.* Augustus was
more attached to the national religion.* He had an
antipathy to the Oriental creeds,' and prohibited the

THE APOSTLES. 279
spread of even the Egyptian rites in Italy;* but he
allowed every system, and the Jewish in particular, to
V enjoy freedora and supreraacy in its own country.' He
exempted the Jews from all observances conflicting
with their conscience, especially from civil duties on
the Sabbath.'* Some of his oflScers manifested a less
tolerant spirit, and would willingly have prevailed on
hira to becorae a persecutor in the interest of the Latin
forra of worship ;" but he does not appear to have
yielded to their mischievous counsel. Josephus, whom
we may, however, suspect of some exaggeration, declares
that Augustus even went so far as to present a gift of con
secrated vases to the service of the ternple at Jerusalera."
Tiberius Caesar was the first of the emperors who
definitely adopted the principle of a state-religion, and
who enforced strict precautions against the Jewish and
Oriental propaganda.'* It must be borne in raind that
the emperor was also " Pontifex Maximus," and that
in protecting the ancient Eoman worship he was per
forming an official duty. Caligula revoked the Tibe-
rian edicts,'* but his supervening lunacy prevented
any further results. Claudius seeras to have carried
out the Augustan policy. At Eorae he strengthened
the Latin ceremonies, showed considerable dislike to
the advance of foreign religions,'* enforced rigorous
measures against the Jews,'* and iraplacably persecuted
the religious confraternities." In Judea, on the con
trary, he treated the natives of the country liberally.'*
The favor enjoyed at Eorae by the family of Agrippa
under the two reigns just raentioned, secured to their
co-religionists a powerful protection in all cases not
coming within the regulations of the Eoman police.

280 THE APOSTLES.
The emperor Nero troubled himself but little about
religion." His cruelties towards the Christians were
the mere outcrops of his natural ferocity, not the re
sults of legislative policy." The instances of persecu
tion cited in the Eoman annals of this period emanated
rather frora the authority of the family than from tliat
of the Government," and happened only in some noble
houses of Eome, where the ancient traditions of domes
tic rule had been preserved." Tho provinces were
entirely free to adhere to their own rites, on tlie sole
condition of not interfering with those of others." Pro
vincials residing at Eome were allowed the same pri
vileges BO long as they avoided anything which occa
sioned public scandal.'* The only two religions against
which the empire made war in the first century, were
Druidism and Judaism ; and each of these was, in truth,
a fortress wherein was entrenched a distinct and tur
bulent nationality. Most men were convinced that
the profession of Judaism iraplied hatred of the civil
institutions of the empire and indifference to the wel
fare of the state." When Judaisra assuraed the con
dition of a mere individual oi" private system of
religious belief, it was not persecuted.'* The rigorous
measures which were put in force against the worship
of Serapis, were perhaips suggested by the mono
theistic character" which caused it sometimes to be
confounded in public estimation with the Jewish and
the Christian religions.'*
It appears, then, that no established legislation prohi
bited in the apostolic age the profession of monotheistic
creeds." The sectaries were always under surveillance
down to the accession of the Syrian emperors ; but it was

THE APOSTLES. 231
not until Trajan's time that they were systematically
persecuted, as being intolerant and hostile towards other
sects, and as impliedly denying the authority of the state.
In a word, the only phase of religious belief against
whioh the Eoman empire declared war was theocracy.
Its own principle was that of a purely secular organiza
tion. It did not admit that religion could have any civil
or political connexions or consequences. Above all it
would not admit of any association within the state and
independent of the state. This point it is essential to
remeraber. It was in truth the root jfrom which sprang
all the persecutions. The law concerning the confrater
nities was in a much greater degree than religious intole
rance, the fatal cause of the cruelties which disgraced the
reigns of the most liberal emperors.
The Greeks had led the way for the Eomans, as well in
matters relating to private associations as in all other
results of thought and refinement. The Greek !)/>«»<>( or
Smnt of Athens, Ehodes, and the Islands of the Archi
pelago were useful societies for mutual assistance in the
way of loans, fire assurance, common religious obser
vances, and harmless amusement.** Each society had
its rules carved on a stela, its archives, its common
fund, provided by both voluntary contributions and
assessments. The members met together to celebrate the
festivals and to hold banquets, where cordiaUty reigned
supreme.*' A brother needing money could borrow from
the treasury. Women were admitted into these associa
tions, and had a president for themselves. '' The meetings
were held in secret, and under strict rules for the preser
vation of order. They took place, it seems, in inclosed
gardens, surrounded by porticoes or small buildings, and

282 THE APOSTLES.
in the centre was erected an altar for the sacrifices.** Each
association had its officers,** selected by lot for one year,
according to the usage of the ancient Greek democracies,
and from which the Christian " clergy" may have derived
its name.** The presiding officer only was elected by
vote. These officers passed the candidate through a kind
of examination, and were required to certify that he was
" holy, pi/oxjis, and good." **
There occurred in the two or three centuries which
preceded the Christian era, a movement in favor of these
little religious clubs, almost as marked as that which in
the raiddle age produced so many religious orders and
subdivisions of ordere. In the island of Ehodes alone
there is record of nineteen, many of which bore the
names of their founders, or reformers.** Some of them,
particularly those oi JSacchus, inculcated lofty doctrines,
and sought in good faitli to administer consolation to
man.*' If there yet remained in Greek society a little
charity, piety, or good morals, it was due to the exist
ence and freedom of these private devotional assemblies.
They acted as it were concurrently with the public and
official religion, the neglect of which was becoming more
and more apparent day by day. At Eome associations
of this nature met with more opposition, and found no
less favor among the poorer classes.** The rules of
Eoman policy in regai-d to secret confraternities were
first proraulgated under the republic (b.c. 186) in the
case of the Bacchanals. The Eoraans were by natural
taste much iuOThed to associations,*' and in particular
to those of a religious character ;*'' but these permanent
congregations were displeasing to the patrician order,
who controlled the municipal power,*' and whose naiTow

THE APOSTLES. 283
conceptions of life admitted no other social group be
sides the family and the State. The most minute pre
cautions were taken, such as the requireraent of a preli
minary authorization, the limiting of the number of
members, and the prohibition against having a perma
nent Magister sacrorum,, and a common fund raised by
subscription.*' The same anxiety was manifested on
several occasions imder the empire. The body of
public law contained clauses authorizing all kinds of
repression;** but it depended on the administrative
power whether they should be enforced or not, and the
proscribed religions often reappeared in a very few years
after their proscription.** Foreign immigi-ation, espe
cially from Syria, unceasingly renewed the soil in which
flourished the creeds so vainly doomed to extirpation.
It is astonishing to observe to what an extent a subject,
seemingly so unimportant, occupied the greatest minds
of that age. It was one of the chief tasks of Caesar and
Augustus to prevent the formation of new clubs, and to
destroy those already established.** A decree published
under Augustus attempts to define positively the Umits
of the right of association, and whose Umits were ex
tremely narrow. The clubs {collegia) were to be merely
for the purpose of celebrating funeral rites. They were
permitted to meet no oftener than once a month ; they
were to attend only to the obsequies of deceased mem
bers, and under no pretext could they obtain an exten
sion of their privileges.** The Empire resolved on
performing the impossible. In logical sequence to its
exaggerated notion of the state, it attempted to isolate
the individual, to destroy every moral bond of feUow
ship among men, and to combat tJiat legitimate longing

284 THE APOSTLES.
of the poor to press closer together in sorae little refuge,
as it were to keep each other warm. In ancient Greece
the '¦^city " was tyrannical, but it offered in exchange for
its oppression so rauch amusement, enlightenment, and
glory, that none thought of complaining. The citizen
submitted quietly to its wildest caprices, and went to
death for it with rapture. But the Eoman empire was
too vast to be one's country. It offered to every one
great material advantages, but it gave no one anything
to love. The insupportable melancholy of such a life
appeared worse than death.
Accordingly, in spite of the efforts of statesmen, the
confraternities multiplied iramensely. They were pre
cisely analogous to our confraternities of the middle
age, with their patron saint and their common refec
tory. The great families might centre their pride in
their ancient name, their country, and their traditions ;
but the humble and the poor had nothing but the
collegium, and there they fastened all their affections.
The text of the law shows us that all these clubs were
composed of slaves,*' veterans,** or obscure persons.**
Within their precincts the free-born man, the freedman,
and the slave, were equal.** They contained also many
women.*' At the risk of innumerable taunts and an
noyances, and soraetiraes of severer penalties, raen per
sisted in entering the collegium, where they Uved in the
bonds of a pleasant brotherhood, where they found
mutual succor in tirae of need, and where they con
tracted obligations which endured even after death.*"
The place of raeeting usually had a tetrastyU (por
tico with four fronts), where were set up the rules of
the club near the altar of its protecting divinity, and

THE APOSTLES. 285
where stood a tridinivm, for the repasts.** These repasts
indeed were looked forward to with impatience ; they
took place on the day sacred to the patron divinity, or
on the birthdays of members who had contributed
endowments.** Every one brought his little portion ;
one of the brotherhood furnished in tum the accessories
of the feast, such as couches, table-fnmitm*e, bread,
wine, sardines, and hot water.** A slave, newly eman
cipated, owed his comrades an amphora of good wine.**
A quiet air of enjoyment animated the repast ; it was a
positive rule that none of the business of the society
should be discussed, in order that nothing might disturb
the brief interval of enjoyment and repose which these
poor souls were thus providing for themselves.*' Every
violent act or rude remark was punished by a fine.**
In appearance these clubs were simply associations
for burial of the members.*' Bnt that object alone
would have been enough to invest them with a moral
character. In the Eoman, as in our own time, and as in
all ages when the reUgious sentiment is weakened, reve
rence for the tomb is nearly all that the masses retain.
The poor man loved to believe that his body would
not be cast into those horrible common trenches;*"
that his club would provide for his decent obsequies ;
that the brethren who should follow him on foot to
the funeral pile would receive each a little honoraHvm!^
(about four cents) in testimony of respect for the
departed.*' The slave especiaUy felt the need of an
assurance that if his. master denied him the privUege
of the ordinary rites of sepulture, there would be a
Uttie band of friends who would perform " imaginaiy
obsequies." ** Hardly any waa so humble or destitute

286 THE APOSTLES.
as not to contribute a penny per month to the common
fund to procure after his death a little urn in a Colum
barium, with a slab of marble on which his name should
be carved. Sepulture araong the Eoraans was of extreme
importance, being closely connected with the saiyra
gentiUtia, or faraily rites. Persons interred together
even contracted a sort of intimate fraternity or relation
ship.** These facts show why Christianity for a long time
presented itself at Eome as a kind of funeral associa
tion, and why the earliest Christian sanctuaries were the
tombs of the martyrs.** If Christianity had been nothing
raore, it would not have provoked so much hostility.
But it was much more. It provided a common trea
sury;** it considered itself a complete municipality; it
believed in its own assured permanency and continuity.
When one enters on a Saturday night one of the Greek
churches in Turkey, for example that of St. Photinus
at Smyrna, he is struck with the power of those asso
ciated religious memberships existing in the midst of a
persecuting or hostile community. That irregular col
lection of buildings (church, presbytery, school, prison) ;
these brethren passing to and fro in their little inclosed
city of refuge ; these newly-opened tombs, with the lighted
lamps within ; this odor of dampness, decay, and mould ;
this murraur of prayer ; these appeals for alms — create
a deadened and subdued atmosphere which may, to
a stranger, appear sufficiently monotonous or repulsive,
but which must be full of attraction to the affiliated
members. The societies, when once provided with a special
authorization, possessed at Eome aU the rights and pri-

THE APOSTLES.. 287
vileges of civil persons.*' This authorization was, how
ever, granted only with many restrictions whenever the
society possessed a treasury and sought to concern itself
with anything but sepulture.** The pretext of religious
observances, or the performance of vows in common,
was guarded against by law, and formally declared to be
one of the circumstances which attached to an asserably
the character of crirae ; *' and the crirae was nothing
less than high treason, at least as regards the person
who called the meeting together.'* Claudius even closed
the taverns where the brethren raet, and the small eat
ing-houses where the poor were furnished cheaply with
hot water and boiled meat." Trajan and the more libe
ral monarchs continued to view all these societies with
distrust." .Low rank was an essential condition without
which the privilege of religious assemblage was never
accorded, and even then it was granted raost sparing
ly.'* The lawyers who built up the Eoraan jurispru
dence, so eminent in legal science, displayed their
ignorance of human nature by opposing in every way,
even with the raenace of death, and by hedging in with
all sorts of odious and puerile restrictions an everlasting
need of the soul of raan.'* Like the authors of the
" Code Civil," they regarded life with a wintry glance.
If raan's life consisted in amusing himself- under the
orders of his superiors, in munching his crust and tast
ing his puny pleasures in his rank under the eye of a
taskmaster, all this would be well devised. But the
retj-ibution awarded to social systems which follow this
false and contracted view, is first a melancholy disgust,
and next a violent triumph of religious partisans.
Never wiU man consent to breathe that icy air. He

288 THE APOSTLES.
needs the little circle, the brotherhood where he may
live and die amongst his feUows. Our vast abstract
social organizations are not sufficient to supply all the
social instincts which exist in man. Let hira alone to
attach his heart to something, to seek consolation where
it may be found, to make brothers to hiraself, and to
draw closer the ties of affection. Let not the cold arm
of the state break into this kingdora of the soul, which
is also the realm of liberty. True life and happiness
will not spring up again in this world untU that sad
heritage left us by Eoman law, our inveterate distrust of
like private assernbly {collegium), shall have disappeared.
Association independent of the state, without injury to
the state, is the great question of the future. The laws
to be made in regard to associations will determine
whether or not modern society will tend to the same
destiny as ancient. One example should suffice. The
Eoraan empire bound its own existence to the law relat
ing to unlawful assemblages. Christians and barbarians,
accomplishing in this respect the task of human con
science, broke down that law, and the empire having
planted itself thereon, went down with it.
The Greek and Eoman world, a secular and profane
world, which possessed not the true conception of a min
ister of religion, which had neither divine law nor a
revealed word, had here stumbled upon a problem which
it was unable to solve. And we may add that if it had
possessed a body of consecrated priests, a severe theology,
and a strongly organized system of religion, it would
not have created the secular state, or inaugurated the
idea of a social system founded merely on reason, and
on the huraan wants and natural relations of individuals.

THE APOSTLES. 289«
The religious inferiority of the Greeks and Eomans was
the result of their political and intellectual superiority.
The religious superiority of the Jews, on the contrary,
has proved the cause of their political and philosophical
inferiority. Judaism and primitive Christianity com
prised the negation of the civil authority, or perhaps we
may more accurately say the putting it under guardian
ship. Like the system of Mahomet, they established
social order upon the basis of religion. When human
affairs are controlled from that direction, great and uni
versal proselytisras are made, apostles traverse the world
from end to end, reforming and converting it ; but in
that manner are not constructed political institutions,
national independence, a dynasty, a code, or a homoge
neous people. 13

CHAPTEE XIX.
the fut uke of missions.
Such was the world which the Christian missionaries
undertook to convert. It may now be readily perceived,
it seems to me, that the enterprise was nothing impos
sible, and that its success was no miracle. The world
was fermenting with raoral longings to which the new
religion answered adrairably. Manners were losing
their rudeness ; a purer religion was looked for ; and
the notions of human rights and social improveraent
were everywhere gaining ground. On the other hand,
credulity was extrerae, and the number of educated
persons v6ry limited. To such a world, a few earnest
apostles had only to present themselves, believing in one
God and, as disciples of Jesus, imbued with the most be
neficent moral doctrine the ears of men ever listened to,
and they could not fail to be heard. The imaginary
miracles which they mingled with their teaching would
not hinder their success ; for the number of those who
would refuse to believe in the supernatural or miracu
lous was very small. If the apostles were hurable and
poor, so rauch the better. Humanity, in the condition
it had then arrived at, could not be saved but by au
effort springing from the masses. The ancient heathen
religions were not susceptible of reform. The Eoman
state was what the state always will be — rigid, dry, and
unyielding. In such a world perishing for want of

THE APOSTLES. 291
love, the future is the property of him who can touch
the living spring of popular devotion, to do which,
Greek liberalism and the old Eoman gravity were
alike impotent.
The founding of Christianity is in this view the
mightiest work which the men of the people have ever
accoraplished. At an early day, it is true, we find raen
and woraen of high rank at Eorae joining theraselves
to the Church ; and about the end of the first century,
the exaraples of Flavius Clemens and Flavia Domitilla
show that Christianity was penetrating alraost within
the palace of the Caesars.' From the time of the first
Antonines there were sorae rich men in the Christian
communities ; and near the close of the second century
we find in them a few of the most distinguished persons
of the empire.' But at the commencement, all Or
nearly all were of humble condition.* The noble and
powerful of the earth were found in the earliest
churches no more than in Galilee, following the foot
steps of Jesus. Now in these great movements the
beginning is the decisive moraent. The glory of a
religion belongs entirely to its founders. Eeligion, in
fact, is an affair of faith, and to exercise faith is an easy
thing ; the master-work is to inspire it.
When we try to become acquainted with the marvel
lous origin of Christianity, we ordinarily regard matters
by the standards of our own day, and are thus led into
grave errors. The man of the people in the first century,
especially in the Greek and Oriental countries, was in no
wise similar to what he is amongst us, knd at this day.
Education had not then separated classes as widely as a
present. The Mediterranean races, excepting the Latin

292 THE APOSTLES.
tribes, which had lost all importance since the empire
by the conquest of the world had become a raixture of
vanquished nations, were less solid than moderns, and
were more vivacious, excitable, imaginative, and quick
of apprehension. The heavy materialism of our lower
classes, and their apparent raelancholy and dulness,
which are in part the result of climate, and in part the
sad legacy of the Dark Ages, and which stamp our
poor with so distressful a physiognomy, did not operate
upon the same classes in the early times. Although
they were indeed very ignorant and credulous, they
were not much more so than the rich and powerful of
their day.
The establishment of Christianity cannot then be con
sidered analogous to a popular moveraent in the pre
sent age, starting from the coraraon people and at last
commanding the assent of the educated class. This
would with us be simply impossible. The founders of
Christianity belonged to the common people in a certain
sense, it is true. They were clothed in the same man
ner, lived poorly and frugally, and spoke without pol
ish, or rather sought only to express their thoughts with
energy. But they were inferior in intelligence to only
a very small and constantly diminishing class of men,
the survivors of the refined age of Caesar aud Augustus.
In comparison with the philosophers who flourished
from the time of Augustus to that of the Antonines,
the first Christians were of course illiterate. In com
parison with the great mass of their fellow-subjects, they
were enlightened raen. At times they were even
looked on as free-thinkers, and the cry of the populace
arose, " Down with the Atheists !"* This need not sur-

THB APOSTLES. 293
pnse us. The world was making startling progress in
credulity. The two earUest strongholds of GentUe
Christianity, Antioch and Ephesus, were of all the
citie.S in the empire the most superstitious. The second
and third centuries carried the love of the marvellous
close to the borders of folly and madness.
Christianity arose outside of the official world, but
not entirely beneath it. It was only in appearance, and
as viewed according to worldly prejudices, that the
disciples of Jesus were of an insignificant class. The
worldling admires pride and strength, and wastes no
affability on inferiors. Honor in his view consists in
repelling insult. He despises the spirit which is meek,
long-suffering, humble, which yields its cloak also, and
turns its cheek to the smiter. He is wrong ; the meek
ness which he disdains is the mark of a loftier soul than
his own ; and the highest virtues dwell more content
edly with those who obey and serve than with those
who command and enjoy. And this accords with rea
son ; for power and pleasure, so far from aiding us in
the practice of virtue, are hindrances in the way.
Jesus knew well that the heart of the comraon people
was the great reservoir of the self-devotion and resigna
tion by which alone the world could be saved. Hence
he called the poor blessed, deeming it easier for them
to be good than for others. The primitive Christians
were essentially " poor ;" it was their rightful title.*
Even if a Christian possessed riches in the second and
third centuries, he was poor in spirit, and classed hira
self among the poor, and was saved from persecution
by claiming the privilege of the law concerning the
" collegia tmuiorum."^ It is true that all the Christians

294 THE APOSTLES.
were not slaves or persons of low rank ; but the social
equivalent of a Christian was a slave, and the same
terms were applied to both ; while the cardinal virtues
of the servile condition — gentleness, humility, and resig
nation — were aimed at by both alike. The heathen
writers are unanimous on this point. All of them
without exception recognise in the Christian the traits
of servile character, such as indifference to public
affairs, a subdued and melancholy air, a severe estimate
of the vices of the age, and a settled aversion to the
theatres, baths, gymnasia, and public games.'
In a word, the heathen were the world ; the Chris
tians were not of the world. They were a little flock
apart, hated of the world, reproving its iniquities,* seek
ing to keep themselves "unspotted from the world."'
The ideal of the Christian was wholly opposed to that
of the worldling." The sincere Christian loved to be
humble, and cultivated the virtues of the poor and
simple and self-abasing. He had also the defects which
accorapany these virtues. He considered as vain and
frivolous raany things which are not so. He belittled
the universe, looking on beauty and art with a hostile
or contemptuous eye. A system under which the
Venus of Milo is only a stone idol is erroneous, or at the
least partial; for beauty is almost the equivalent of
goodness and of truth. When such ideas prevailed,
the decay of art was inevitable. The Christian set no
store by architecture, sculpture, or painting; he was
too much of an idealist. He cared little for the ad
vancement of science, for it was to him nothing but
idle curiosity. Confounding the higher enjoyments of
the soul, by which we touch upon the infinite, with

THE APOSTLES. 295
vulgar pleasures, he denied himself all amusement.
He pushed his virtues to excess.
Another law demands our attention at this period,
which wiU.not fail to have its influence upon the history
we are to recount. The establishment of Christianity
corresponds in time with the suppression of political life
in the Mediterranean world. The subjects of the impe
rial sway had ceased to have a country. If any one sen
timent was wholly wanting in the founders of the Chhrch,
it was patriotism. They were not even cosmopolites, citi
zens of the world ; for the planet was to them only a place
of exile, and they were idealists in the most absolute
sense. The country is a composite object ; it has body
and soul. The soul is its recollections, customs, legends,
misfortunes, hopes, and common regrets ; the body its
soil, race, language, raountains, rivers, characteristic pro
ductions. But never were any people so regardless of
all this as the primitive Christians. Judea could not re
tain their affection. A few years passed, and they had
forgotten the walks of Galilee. The glories of Greece
and Eome were foolishness to them. The regions in
which Christianity first rooted itself — Syria, Cyprus, and
Asia Minor — could not recall the period when they had
been free. Greece and Eorae still possessed rauch na
tional pride. But at Eome the patriotism was hardly
felt outside of the army and a few families ; while in
Greece, Christianity flourished only at Corinth, a city
which, after its destruction by Mummius and its re
building by Caesar, was a mixture of men from every
land. The true Greek tribes were then, as now, very
exclusive in their notions, absorbed in the memory of their
past; and paid little heed to the new doctrine. They

296 THE APOSTLES.
proved but half-way Christians. On the other hand, the
gay, luxurious, and pleasure-loving inhabitants of Asia
and Syria, accustomed to a life of enjoyment, of easy
manners, and used to accept the customs and laws of every
new conqueror, had nothing in the shape qf national
pride or cherished traditions to lose. The early centres
of Christianity — Antioch, Ephesus, Thessalonica, Corinth,
and Eome — were, if I raay so express it, public cities ;
cities like modern Alexandria, whither all races gather,
and where that union and tie of affection between the
citizen and the soil which constitutes a nation, were en
tirely unknown.
The interest of the public in social questions is always
in inverse ratio to its preoccupation with politics. Social
ism advances when patriotism becomes weak. Chris
tianity was an explosion of social and religious ideas which
could not have had free scope until Augustus had sup
pressed poUtical contests. It was destined, like Islamism,
to become in essence an enemy of the tendency to sepa
rate nationality. Many ages and many schisms would
be necessary before national established churches could
be derived out of a religion which started with the nega
tion of the idea of any earthly horae or country ; which
arose at an epoch when the distinctive dty and dtizen of
early Greece and Italy had ceased to exist ; and when
the stern and vigorous republican spirit of a former pe
riod had been carefully sifted out as deadly poison to
the state.
Here then is one of the causes of the grandeur of
the new religion. Humanity is diveree and changeable
in feeling, and constantly agitated by contradictory
desires. Great is the love of country and sacred are the

THE APOSTLES. 297
heroes of Marathon, Thermopylae, Valmy, and Fleurus.
One's country, however, is not everything here below.
Man is a man and a child of God before he is a French
man or a German. The kingdom of God, that eternal
vision which cannot be torn out of the heart of man, is
the protest of his nature against the exclusiveness of
patriotism. The idea of a great and universal organi
zation of the race to bring about its greatest welfare
aud its moral improvement, is both legitimate and
Christian. The state knows and can know only one
thing, the organization of self-interest. This is some
thing, for self-interest is the strongest and most engross
ing of human raotives. But it is not enough. Govern
ments founded on the theory that man is composed of
selfish wants and desires alone, have proved greatly
mistaken. Devotion is as natural as egotisra to the race,
and religion is organized devotion. Let none expect,
then, to do without reUgion or reUgious associations.
Every forward step of modern society will render the
need of religion more imperious.
We can now see how these recitals of strange events
may prove illustrative and instructive. We need not
reject the lesson because of certain traits which the
difference of times and manners has invested with an
odd or unusual aspect. In regard to popular convic
tions, there is always an imraense disproportion between
the greatness of the ideal aimed at by the system of
belief, and the trifling nature of the actual facts which
have given rise to it. Hence the particularity with
which religious history mingles common details and
Actions approaching folly with its most sublime events
and doctrines. The monk who contrived the " holy vial "
13*

298 THE APOSTLES.
was one of the founders of the French monarchy. Who
would not willingly eff'ace from the life of Jesus the
story of the demoniacs of Gadara ? What man of cool
blood and common sense would have acted like Francis
of Assisi, Joan of Arc, Peter the Hermit, or Ignatius
Loyola. Terms attributing folly or fanaticism to the
actions of past ages must of necessity be deerned merely
relative. If our ideas are to be taken as the standard,
there was never a prophet, apostle, or saint, who ought
not to have been confined as a lunatic. Conscience is
very unstable in periods when refiection is not mature,
and then good becomes evil, and evil good, by insensible
stages. Unless we adrait this, it is impossible to form
a just estimate of the past. The same divine breath
vitalizes all history and gives to it wonderful unity,
but human'faculties have produced an infinite variety
of combinations. The apostles differed less in charac
ter frora us than did 'the founders of Buddhism, al
though the latter were allied more nearly to us in lan
guage and probably in race. Our own age has wit
nessed religious movements quite as extraordinary as
those of former times; movements attended with as
much enthusiasra, which have already had in propor
tion more martyrs, and the future of which is still
undetermined. I do not refer to the Mormons, a sect in some respects
so degraded and absurd that one hesitates to seriously
consider it. There is much to suggest refiection, how
ever, in seeing thousands of men of our own race
living iu the miraculous in the middle of the nineteenth
century, and blindly believing in the wondera which
they profess to have seen and touched. A literature

THE APOSTLES. 299
has already arisen pretending to reconcile Mormonism
and science. But, what is of more importance, this
religion, founded upon sUly impostures, has inspired
prodigies of patience and self-denial. Five hundred
years hence, learned professors will seek to prove its
divino origin by the miracle of its establishraent.
Bab-ism in Persia was a phenomenon much more
astonishing." A mild and unassuming mari, in cha
racter and opinion a sort of pious and modest Spinoza,
was suddenly and almost in spite of himself raised to
the rank of a worker of miracles and a divine incarna
tion ; and became tbe head of a numerous, ardent, and
fanatical sect, which came -near accomplishing a revo
lution like that of Mahomet. Thousands of martyrs
rushed to death for him with joyful alacrity. The great
butchery of his followers at Teheran was a scene per
haps unparalleled in history. " That day in the streets
and bazaars of Teheran," says an eye-witness, " the
residents will never forget." To this moment when it is
talked of, the mingled wonder and horror which the
citizens then experienced appears unabated by the
lapse of yeare. They saw women and children walking
forward betweeu their executioners, with great gashes
all over their bodies and burning matches thrust into
the wounds. The victims were dragged along by
ropes, and hurried on by sti-okes of the whip. Chil
dren and women went singing a verse to this effect,
' Verily we came from God, and to hira shall we re
turn ! ' Tiieir shrill voices rose loud and clear in the
profound silence of the multitude. If one of these
poor wretches fell down, and the guards forced him up
afyain with blows or bayonet-thrusts, as he staggered

300 THE APOSTLES.
on with the blood trickling down every limb, he would
spend his remaining energy in dancing and crying in
an access of zeal, ' Verily we are God's, and to him we
return ! ' Some of the children expired on the way.
The executioners threw their corpses in front of their
fathers and their sisters, who yet marched proudly on,
giving hardly a second glance. At the place of exe
cution life was offered them if they would abjure, but
to no purpose. One of the condemned was informed
that unless he recanted, the throats of his two sons
should be cut upon his own bosom. The eldest of
these little boys was fourteen years old, and they stood
red with their own blood and with their fiesh burned
and blistered, calmly listening to the dialogue. The
father, stretching himself upon the earth, answered
that he was ready ; and the oldest boy, eagerly claim
ing his birthright, asked to be murdered first.'* At
length all was over ; night closed in upon heaps of
mangled carcasses; the heads were suspended in
bunches on the scaffold, and the dogs of the faubourgs
gathered in troops from every side as darkness veiled
the awful scene."
This happened in 1852. In the reign of Chosroes
Nouschirvan, the sect of Masdak was smothered in blood
in the same way. Absolute devotion is to simple na
tures the most exquisite of enjoyments, and, in fact, a
necessity. In the Bab persecution, people who had
hardly joined the sect came and denounced themselves,
that they might suffer with the rest. It is so sweet to
mankind to suffer for something, that the allurement
of martyrdom is itself often enough to inspire faith.
A disciple who shared the tortures of Bab, hanging by

THE APOSTLES. 301
his side on the ramparts of Tabriz and awaiting a lin
gering death, had only one word to say — " Master, have
IdoneweU?" Those who regard as either miraculous or chimerical
everything in history which ti-anscends the ordinary
calculations of common sense, will find such facts as
these inexplicable. The fundamental condition of
criticism is to be able to comprehend the diverse states
of the human soul. Absolute faith is a thing entirely
foreign to us. Beyond the positive sciences which
possess a material certainty, all opinion is in our view
only an approximation to tlie truth, and necessai-ily
implies some error. The amount of error may be as
small as you please, but is never zero in regard to
moral subjects. Such is not the method of narrow and
bigoted minds, like the Oriental for exaraple. The
mental vision of those races is not like ours ; theirs is
dull and fixed like the enamelled eyes of figures in
mosaic. They see only one thing at a time, and that
takes entire possession of them. They are not their
own masters whether to believe or not. There is no
room for an after-thought with them. People who
erabrace an opinion after this fashion will die for it.
The martyr is in religion what the partisan is in politics.
There have not been many very intelUgent raartyrs.
The Christians who confessed their faith under Diocle
tian, would have been, after peace was gained for the
Church, rather unpleasant and impracticable pereon-
a^es. One is never very tolerant when he beUeves
himself entirely in the right, and his opponents entirely
in the wrong.
Great religious movements, being thus the results of

302 THE APOSTLES.
a confined method of viewing moral subjects, are
enigmas to an age like the present, in which the strength
of conviction is enfeebled. Among us, the man of
sincerity is continually modifying his opinions, because
both the world around hira and his own nature are
changing. We believe in raany things at once. We
love justice and the truth, and would expose our lives
in their cause ; but we do not adrait that justice and
truth can be the peculiar property of any sect or party.
We are good Frenchmen, but we confess that the Ger
mans and the English excel us in raany respects. Not
so in epochs and countries where every man belongs
with his whole nature to his own coraraunity, race, or
school of politics. Hence all the great religious de-
velopraents have occurred in states of society when
the general mind was more or less analogous to the
oriental. In fact, it is only absolute faith that has
hitherto succeeded in conquering souls. A pious ser
vant-girl of Lyons named Blandina, who suffered for
her religion 1700 years ago ; a rough chieftain, Clovis,
who saw fit some fourteen centuries back to embrace
Catholicism — are still giving law to us.
Who is there who has not at some time while wander
ing through our old cities, now so rapidly being modern
ized, paused at the foot of one of the gigantic monu
raents of the faith of the Middle Age ! Everything
around is becoraing new ; not a vestige of ancient cus
toms remains ; the cathedral alone stands, a little lowered
perhaps by men's violence, but firmly rooted in the soil.
Mole sua stat I Its strength is its right. It has withstood
the flood which has washed away its surroundings. Not
one of the raen of old, should here visit the spots which

THE APOSTLES. 303
once knew him, could find his former home. Of all the
dweUers there, the rooks alone who built their nests in
the lofty niches of the consecrated edifice, have never
seen the hamraer of destruction raised against their
abode. Strange destiny ! Those simple raartyrs, those
rude converts, those pirate church-builders, rule us stUl.
We are Christians because it pleased thera to be so. As
in politics, it is only systems founded by barbarians
which have endured ; so in religion it is only the sponta
neous, and, if I may so express it, fanatical raoveraents,
which are contagious. Their success depends not on the
more or less satisfactory proofe they furnish of their di
vine origin, but is proportioned to what they have to say
to the hearts of the people.
Are we then to conclude that religion is destined
graduaUy to die away like the popular fallacies concern
ing magic, sorcery, and ghosts ? By no raeans. Eeligion
is not a popular fallacy; it is a great intuitive truth, felt
and expressed by the people. All the symbols which
serve to give shape to the religious sentiment are imper
fect, and their fate is to be one after another rejected.
But nothing is raore remote from the truth than the
dream of those who seek to imagine a perfected hu
manity without religion. The contrary idea is the truth.
The Chinese, a very inferior branch of humanity, have
hardlv any religious sentiment. But if we suppose a
planet inhabited by a race whose intellectual, moral, and
physical force were the double of our own, that race
would be at least twice as religious as we. I say " at
least " for it is likely that the religious sentiment would
increase more rapidly than the intellectual capacity, and
not in merely direct proportion. Let us suppose a hu-

804 THE APOSTLES.
manity ten times as powerful as we are ; it would be
infinitely more religious. It is even probable that at
this degree of sublime elevation, being freed from ma
terial cares and egotism, endowed with perfect judgment
and appreciation, and perceiving clearly the baseness and
nothingness of all that is not true, good, or beautiful,
mau would be wholly a reUgious being, and would spend
his days in ceaseless adoration, passing from ecstasy to
ecstasy of religious rapture, and living and dying in tbe
loftiest delight of the soul. Egotism is the measure of
inferiority, and decreases as we recede from the animal
nature. A perfected being would no longer be selfish,
but purely religious. The progress of humanity, then,
cannot destroy or weaken religion, but will develop and
increase it.
But it is time that we return to the three missionaries,
Paul, Barnabas, and Mark, whom we left as they sallied
forth from Antioch by the Seleucian gate. In my third
book I shall attempt to trace the footsteps of these
messengers of good report, by land and sea, in calm and
storm, through good and evil days. I long to recount
that unequalled epic ; to depict those tossing waves so
often traversed, and those endless journeyings in Asia
and Europe, during which the Gospel-seed was sown.
The great Christian Odyssey begins. Already the apos
tolic bark has spread its sails, and the freshening breeze
rejoices to bear upon its wings the words of Jesus.
FINIS.

NOTES.

NOTES TO THB INTEODUCTION.
1. The author of the Acts doea not dirootly give to St. Paul the title of
apostle. Thia title la, in general, reaervod by him for the members
or the Qontral oollego, at Joru.<iulom.
2. Hom. Paeudo-Olem., xvii. 13-19.
8. Justin, Apol. i. 39. In tlie Aota alao la aeon the idea that Peter
was tho Apostle of the Gentiles. Soo oapooially Ohap. x., oomp.
Petri i. 1.
'I. I Oor. iii 6, 10 1 iv. U, 16 j ix. 1, 2. II. Oor., xi. 2, oto.
B. Lottor of Donys of Oorhith in Eusob. Eisl Eccl. ii. 25.
6. Frendi readers, for nraplo details upon tho disousaion aud oompariaon
of tlio four narratives, may soe Strausa, Vie do J^aua, 3d aeot.,
dliaptors iv. and v. (traduction Littri5) ; Nomelle "Vie de Jisus, 1. i., §
46, &0. 1 1, ii. § 97, &a (translation Nollteor and Doiiaia).
1. Tho Cliuroh early admitted this. Soo the canon of Muratori {Aniiq.
liaL iii. 854), (Noutostamentliolie Studien, Gotha, 1866), liuoa 33, &o,
8. Luke i. 1-4 ; .lote i. 1.
8. Soo espooially Acts, xvi. 12.
10. Tho paucity of language in the New Testament writera ia so great
tliat oaoh one has hia own dictionary; ao that tho writers of even
very short manuaoripts can be easily reoogniaod.
11. The nao of this word, Acts xiv. <t, i'l, ia very indirect.
12. Oomp. for example, Acts xvii. 14-16; xviii. 5, with I. Theas. iii. 1-2.
13. I. Oor. -xv. 32; II. Oor. 1. 8; xi. 23, &o.; Eom, xv. 19; xvi. 3, &a
14. Acts xvi. 6 ; xviii. 22-23, compared with the Epistle to the Gala
tians.
16. For instance, the sojourn at Oesarea ia left in obscurity.
16. Mabillon, Musem-m Malicmi, i. 1 pars, p. 109.
17. Ool. iv. 14
18. See above, p. xii.
19. Almost all tlie insoriptiona are Latin, aa at Naples (Oavala), the
port of Philippi. See Ileuzoy, Mission de Mac^doine, p. 11, &o. The
remarkable wmiliarity with nautioal subjects of the author of the

306 THE APOSTLES.
Acts (see especiaUy chapters xxvii-nviii), would give rise to the
belief that he was a Neapolitan.
20. For example, Acts x. 28.
21. Acts V. 36-37.
22. The Hebraisms of his style may arise from careful reading of Greek
translations of the Old Testament, and above all, from reading the
manuaoripts of his co-rehgionists of Palestinje, whom he often copied
word for word. His quotationa from the Old Testament are made
without any acquaintance with the original text (for example, xv.
16, &c.).
23. Acts xvii. 22, &c.
24. Luke i. 26; iv. 31; xxiv. 13.
25. Luke i 31, compared with Matthew i. 21. The name of Jeanne,
known only to Luke, is dubious. See, however, Tahn. de Bab.
Sota, 22 a.
26. .Acts ii. 47 ; iv. 33 ; v. 13, 26.
27. Acts ix. 22, 23; xii. 3, 11; xiii. 45, 50, and many other paaaages.
It is the same with the fourth gospel also compiled out of Syria.
28. Luke x. 33, &o.; xvii. 16; Acts viii. 5, 4;c The samo in the
fourth gospel: John iv. 5, &e.
29. Acts xxviii 30.
30. See Vie de Jesus.
31. Luke xxiv. 50. Mark xvi. 19, shows a aimUar arrangement.
32. Acts L 3, 9.
33. See eapecially Luke L 1, the expression rav ireirXnpoipopijftii'uv tv ^jitv
irpayfiaTiiiv.
34. Ch. i. xxii. xxvi.
35. The centurion Cornelius, the proconsul Sergius Paulus.
36. Acts xiii. 7, &e. ; xviii. 12, &c. ; xix. 35, fto.- xxiv. 7, -17; xxv.
9, 16, 25 ; xxvii 2 ; xxviii. 17-18.
37. Ibid. xvi. 37, &o. ; xxii. 26, &c
38. Similar precautions were by no means rare. In the Apocalypse
aud the Epistle of Peter, Rome is alluded to in diaguiaed language.
39. Luke i. 4.
40. Acts i. 22.
41. Soo Vie de Jesus, p. ttttjt &o.
42. This is obvious, especially in the history of the centurion Corne
lius.
43, Acts ii. 47 ; iv. 33 ; v. 13, 26. Cf Luke, xxiv. 19-20.
44. Acts ii. 44r-45 ; iv. 34, &c. ; v. 1, &c.
45. I. Cor. xii-xiv. Comp. Mark xvi. 17, and Acts il. 4-13; x. 46;
xi. 15; xix. 6.
46. Comp. Acts iii. 2, 4;o., to xiv. 8, &o. ; ix. 36, &c., to xx. 9, &0. ; v.

THE APOSTLES. 307
1, &o., with xiiL 9, &c. ; v. 15—16, to xix. 12 ; xiL 7, &c., with xvi
26, &c. ; X. 44, with xix. 6.
47. In a speech attributed by the author to Gamaliel, about tho year 36,
Theudas ia spoken of as anterior to Judas of Galilee {Acts v. 36-37).
Now the revolt of Theudas was in the year 44 (Jos. A-nt. xx. v. 1),
and certainly after that of tho Galilean (Jos. Ant, xviii. i. 1 ; B. J.,
IX, viii. 1.
48. Those who cannot refer to the German works of Baur, Sohneoken-
burger, Wette, Schwegler, ZeUer, where critical questions relative
to the Acts are brought to almost a definite solution, may consult
Etudes Histqfiqv£s et Critiques swr les Origi-nes du Cli/risiianis-me, by A.
Stap (Paris, Laoroix, 1864), p. 116, &c. ; Michel Nicolas. Etudes
Oritiq-ues sw la Bible; Nouveau Testament (Paris, Ldvy, 1864), p. 223,
&c.) ; Beuss, Histoire de la Theologie Ghreiienneau siecle Apostolique L
vl ch. v.; othor works of MM. Kayser, Soberer, Reuss, in the
Beuue de Theologie of Strasburg, 1st aeries, vol. ii. and iii. ; 2d
series, vol. ii. and iii.
49, For the exact meaning of ov irpoaavedi^iiv trapicl xai a'tjian, comp. Matt.
xvi 17.
60. He declares it on oath. See chapters i and ii of the Epistle to
the Galatians.
51. Acts XU. 1.
52. Jos. Ant. XIX. viii. 2; B. J. 11. xii. 6.
53. The quotation from Amos (xv. 16-17), made by James according to
the Greek version, and in non-accordance with the Hebrew, also
shows that this speech is a fiction of the author.
54. We shall show later that this is the true sense. Any way, the
question ofthe circumcision of Titua ia of no importance here.
55. Comp. Acts xv. 1 ; GaL i 7 ; ii. 12.
56. L Cor. viii 4, 9 ; i. 25, 29.
57. Jets, xxi 20, &c.
58. Above all, the Ebionites. See the Homilies Pseudo-Clem. Irenseus.
Adv. hser. I. xxvi 2; Epiphanius, Adv. haer., hser. xxx; St. Jerome.
Jn Matt. xii.
59. I would nevertheless wUlingly lose Ananias and Sapphira.
60. De Di-oinatione, ii^57.
61. Preface to the Etudes d!Bistoire JReUgieuse.

CHAPTER L
1. Mark xvi. 11 ; Luke xviii. 34; xxiv. 44 ; John xx. 9, 24, and foUow
ing verses. The contrary opinion in Matt, xii 40; xxi. 4,24; xvii
9 23; IX. 19; xxxi 32; Mark viii 34; ix. 9, 10—31 ; x. 34; Luke
tx. 22 ¦ xi 29, 30 ; xviii 31 et seq. ; xxiv. 6-8. Justin, Phi. cum

SOS THE APOSTLES.
Tryph. 106, proceeds from a source on which, beginning from a
certain epoch, considerable reliance may be placed aa to the an
nouncements whioh Jesus had made in reference to his resurrec
tion. The synopticals acknowledge, moreover, that if Jesus spake of
it at all, his disciples understood nothing of it (Mark ix. 10, 32;
Luke xviii. 34 : compare Luke xxiv. 8, and John ii 21, 22).
2. Mark xiii 10; Luke xxiv. 17, 21.
3. Preceding passages, especiaUy Luke xvii. 24, 25; xviii. 31-34.
4. Talmud of Babylon, Bdba, Bathra, 58, a , and the Arabic extract
given by the Abb^ Barges, in the SvMetin, de V (Eu-ore des Pelerinages
e» terre iJaijite, February 1863.
5. Ibn. Hischam, Siroi Errasoul, edit. Wusdenfeld, 1012, and foUowing
pages.
6. Ps. xvi. 10. The sense of the original is a Uttie different. But the
received versions thus translate the passage.
7. I. Thess. iv. 12, et seq. ; L Cor. xv., entire ; Revelation xx.-xxii
f8. Matt. xvi. 21, et seq. ; Majrk viii. 31, et seq.
9. Josephus, Ant. XVUI., iii 3.
10. CarefuUy reperuse the four stories of the Gospels, and the passage
I. Cor. XV. 4, 8.
11. Matt, xxviii. 1 ; Mark xvi. 1 ; Luke xxiv. 1 ; John xx. 1.
12. John XX. 2, seems to suppose even that Mary was not always alone.
13. John XX. 1, et seq. ; and Mark xvi 9, et seq. It must be observed
that the Gospel of Mark has, in our printed versions of the New
Testament, two conclusions : Mark xvi. 1-8 ; Mark xvi. 9-20, to
say nothing of two other conclusions, one of whioh has been hand
ed down to us in the manuscript L. of Paris, and the margin of the
PhUoxenian version (Nov. Test., edit Griesbach, Schultz, 1, page 291
note) ; the other by St Joromo, Adv. Pelag. \. ii. (vol iv., 2d part, ooL
250, odit Martianay.) The conclusion in the sixteenth chapter,
9th and foUowing verses, are wanting in the Codex Si-nditicus aud in
the most important Greek manuscripts. But, in any case, it is of
great antiquity, and its harmony witii the fourth Gospel is a striking
coincidence.
14. Matt, xxvii. 60 ; Mark xv. 46 ; Luke xxiii. 53.
15. John xiE. 41, 42.
16. See "Life of Jesus," p. 38.
17. The Gospel of the Hebrews contained, perhaps, some analogous cir-
cumstauce (vide St. Jerome, de Viris Ulustribus, 2).
18. M. de Vogue, The Churches of ihe Bob/ Land, pp. 126, 126. The
verb awaKiiXiM (Matt, xxviii. 2 ; Mark xvi 3, 4; Luke xxvi 2) clearly
proves that such was the situation of the tomb of Jesus.
19. In aU this, the recital of the fourth Gospel is vastly superior. It is
our principal guido. In Liike xxiv. 12, Peter alone goes to the
tomb. In the conclusion of Mark given in manuscript L, andin the
margin of the PhUoxenian version (Griesbach, loc ciiai.) occur rofe

THE APOSTLES. 309
mp\ Tdii 'UlTpou St. Paul (I. Cor. xv. 5) similarly introduces Peter only
iu this flrst vision. Further, Luke (xxiv. 24) supposes that many
disciples went to the tomb, which observation probably applies to
successive visits. It is possible that John has liere yielded to the
after-thought whioh betrays him more than once in his Gospel, of
showing that he had, in the history of Jesus, a first-rate r61e, equal
even to that of Peter. Perhaps, also, the repeated declarations of
John, that he was an eye-witness of the fundamental facts of the
Christian faith (Gospel i. 14; xxi 24; I. John i 1-3; iv. 14),
should be applied to this visit.
20. John XX. 1, 10; compare Luke xxiv. 12, 34; I. Cor. xv. 5, and the
conclusion of Mark in the manuscript L.
21. Matt, xxviii 9 ; in observing that Matt, xxviii 9, 10,'replies to John
XX. 16. 17.
22. John XX. 11-17, in harmony with Mark xvi. 9, 10; compare the
parallel, but far less satisfactory account of Matt, xxviii 1-10;
Luke xxiv. 1, 10.
23. John XX. 18.
24. Compare Mark xvi 9 ; Luke viii 2.
25. Luke xxiv. 11.
26. Ibid. xxiv. 24
27. Ibid. xxiv. 34; L Cor. xv. 5; the conclusion of Mark in the manu
script L. ' The fragment of the Gospel of the Hebrews in St. Ignatius,
Epist. ad Smyrn., and in St. Jerome, de Viris III, 16, seem to place
" the vision of Peter " in the evening, and to confound it with that
of the assembled Apostles. But St. Paul expressly distinguishes be
tween the two visions.
28. Luke xxiv. 23, 24. It results from these passages that the tidings
were separately proclaimed.
29. Mark xvi 1-8 ; Matthew xxviii 9, 10, contradict this. But this is
at variance with the synoptical system, where the women only see
an angei It seems that the first Gospel was intended to reconcUe
the synoptical system with that of the fourth, wherein one woman
only saw Jesus.
30. Matt, xxxviii 2, et seq. ; Mark xvi 5, et seq. ; Luke xxiv. 4, et
seq., 23. This apparition of angels is even introduced into the
story of the fourth Gospel (xx. 12, 13), whioh it completely deranges,
being apphed to Mary of Magdala. The author was unwiUing to
abandon this traditionary feature.
31. Mark xvi 8.
32. Luke xxiv. 4, 7 ; John xx. 12, 13.
33. Matt xviii! 1, et seq. The story of Matthew is that in whioh the
circumstances have suffered the greatest exaggeration. The earth
quake and the feature of the guards are probably late additions.
34. The six or seven accounts which we have of this scene on Sunday
moming (Mark having two or three, and Paul having also his own,

310 ' THE APOSTLES.
to say nothing of the Gospel of the Hebrews), are in complete dis
agreement with each other.
35. Matt. xxvi. 31 ; Mark xiv. 27 ; John xvi. 32 ; Justin, Apol. i 50 ;
Bial. cum Tr-yph., 53, 106. The theory of Justin is that immediately
on the death of Jesus, there was a complete apostasy on the part of
His disciples.
36. Matt, xxviii. 17 ; Mark xvi. 11 ; Luke xxiv. 11.
37. Mark xvi. 9; Luke viii. 2.
38. Consult, for example, Calmell, Be la Folic au Poimt de Vue Pa/thologique,
Hisloriq-ue et Judiciaire. Paris, 1845. 2 vols, in Svo.
39. See the Pastoral Letters of Jurieu, 1st year, 7th letter ; Misson, The
Sacred Theatre of Cevennes (London, 1707), pp. 28, 34, 38, 102, 103,
104, 107 ; Memoirs of Court in Sayons, History of French Literature,
seventeenth century, i p. 303. BuSeiin of the French Protestant Histo
rical Society, 1862, p. 174.
40. Matt xiv. 26 ; Mark vi 49 ; Luke xxiv. 37 ; John iv. 19.
41. Mark xvi. 12-13 ; Luke xxiv. 13-33.
42. Compare Josephus, B. J., vii. vi 6. luke places this village at 60
stadia, aud Josephus at 30 stadia from Jerusalem. E|^ito>'To,
which is foimd in certain manuscripts and editions of Josephus, is a
correction made by some Christian. Consult the edition of G.
Pindorf. The most probable locality of Emmaus is KuUouv^, a
beautiful place at the bottom of a valley, on the road from Jerusalem
to Jaffa. Consult Sepp. Jerusalem and the Holy Land (1863), I. p. 56 ;
Bourquenoud in the Studies of Beligious History and Literaiure, bythe
Priests of the Society of Jesus, 1863, No. 9 ; and for the exact dis
tances, H. Zschokke. The Emmaus of tlie New Testament (Schaffouse,
1865).
43. Mark xvi 14 ; Luke xxiv. 33, et seq. : John xx. 19, et seq. : Gospel
of the Hebrews in St. Ignatius, Epist. ad Smyrn., 3, and iu St Jerome,
Be Viris III, 16 ; I. Cor. xv. 5 ; Justm, Biai. am, Tryph. 106.
44. Luke xxiv. 34.
45. In an island opposite Eotterdam, where the people have remained
attached to the most austere Calvinism, the peasants are persuaded
that Jesus comes to their death-beds to assure the elect of their
justification ; many, in fact, see Him.
46. In order to conceive the possibUity of simUar iUusions, it is sufiBdent
to remeraber the scenes of our own days, when a number of persons
assembled together unanimously acknowledged that they heard unreal
voices, and that in perfectly good faith. The expectation, the effort
of the imagination, the desire to beUeve, sometimes compliances
accorded with perfect innocence, explain such of the phenomena as
are not produced by direct fraud. These compliances proceed, in
genera], from persons who are convinced, and who, actuated by a
kindly feeUng, are unwiUing that the party should break up unplea
santly, and are desirous of reUeving the masters of the house from
embarrassment. When a person beUeves in a mirade, he always

THE APOSTLES. - 311
unwilUngly assists iu its propagation. Do'uht and denial are impos
sible in this sort of assemblage. Tou would only cause pain to
those who do believe, and to ttiose whom you have invited. And
thus it is that these experiences whioh succeed so weU before smaU
committees, are usually failures before a paying pubUc, and always
so when handled by scientific commissions.
47. John XX. 22, 23, echoed by Luke xxiv. 4, 9.
48. Matf. xxviu. 17 ; Mark xvi. 14; Luke xxiv. 39, 40.
49. John XX. 24, 29 ; compare Mark xvi. 14 ; and the conclusion of
Mark preserved by St. Jerome, Adv. Pelag. ii (v. above at page).
60. John XX. 29.
61. It is very remarkable indeed that John, under whose name the
above dictum has been transmitted, had no particular vision for
himself alone. Cf I. Cor. xv. 5, 8.
52. John XX. 26. The passage xxi 14 supposes it ia true that there
were only two apparitions at Jerusalem before the assembled dis
ciples. But the passages xx 30, and xxi. 25, give us far more lati
tude. Compare Acts 1, 3.
53. Luke xxiv. 41, 43 ; Gospel of tho Hebrews, in St Jerome, Be Viris
lUusiribus, 2 ; conclusion of Mark, in St Jerome, Adv. Pelag., ii

CHAPTER n.
1. Matt, xxviii. 7 ; Mark xvi. 7.
2. Matt xxviii. 10.
3. Ibid, xxvi 32.
4. Matt, xxviii. 16; John xxi ; Luke xxiv. 49, 50, 52, and the Acts i
3, 4, are here in flagrant contradiction to Mark xvi. 1-8, and
Matthi^w. The second conclusion of Mark (xvi. 9, et seq.), and even
of the two others whioh are not a part of the received text,
appeared to be included in the system of Luke. But thia cannot
avaU in opposition to the harmony of a portion of the synoptical
tradition with the fourth Gospel, a;nd even indirectly with Paul (I.
• Cor. XV. 5-8), on this point. •
5. Matt, xxviu. 16.
6. Ibid, xxviu. 7 ; Mark xvi. 7.
7. Conclusion of Mark, in St Jerome, Adu. Pelag. u.
8. Matt, xxviu. 16.
9. John xxi. 2, et seq.
10. The author of the Acts i 14, makes them remain at Jerusalem until
the Ascension. But this agrees with his systematic determination
(Luke xxiv. 49 ; Acts i 4), not to aUow of a journey into Galilee
after the resurrection (a theory contradicted by Matthew and by
John). To be consistent in this theory he is compeUod to place the

312 THE APOSTLES.
Ascension at Bethany, in which he is contradicted by aU the other
traditions.
11. I. Cor. XV. 5, et seq.
12. John xxxi 1, et seq. This chapter has been added to the already
completed Gospel, as a postscript. But it is from the same pen as
the rest
13. John xxi. 9-14; compare Luke xxiv. 41-43. John combines in '
one the two scenes of the fishing and the meai But Luke arranges
the matter differently. At aU events, if we consider with attention
the verses of John xxi. 14, 15, we shaU come to the conclusion
that those harmonies of Johu are somewhat artifioiai Hallucina
tions, at the moment of their conception, are always isolated. It is
later that consistent anecdotes are formed out of them. This habit
of coupUng together as consecutive events facts which are separated
by months and weeks, is seen, in a very striking manner, by com
paring together two passages of the same writer, Luke, Gospel, xxiv.
end, and Acts i at the beginning. According to the former passage,
Jesus should have ascended into heaven on the same day as the
resurrection; whUst, according to the latter, there waa an interval
of forty days. Again, if we rigorously interpret Mark xvi 9-20,
the Ascension must have taken place ou the evening of the resurrec
tion. Nothing more fuUy proves than the contradiction of Luke in
these two passages, how Uttie the editors of the evangelical writings
observed consistency in their stories.
14. John xxi. 15, et seq.
15. Ibid, xxi 18, et seq.
16. L Cor. XV. 6.
17. The Transfiguration,
18. Matt xxviii. 16-20; L Cor. xv. 6. Compare Mark xvi. 15, et seq.-
Luke xxiv. 44, et seq.
19. I. Cor. XV. 6.
20. John affixes no Umit to the resuscitated life of Jesua. He appeara
to suppose it somewhat protracted. According to Matthew, it could
only have lasted during the time which was necessary to complete
the journey to GalUee and to rendezvous at the mountain pointed
out by Jesus. According to the first incomplete conclusion of Mark
(xvi. 1-8), the incidents would seem to have transpired as found
in Matthew. According to the second conclusion (xvi 9, 20),
according to others; and, according to the Gospel of Luke,
the disentombed life would appear to have lasted only one
day. Paul (I. Cor. xv. 6-8), agreeing with the fourth Gospel, pro
longs it for two years, smce he gives his vision, whioh occurred
five or six years at least after the death of Jesus, as the last of the
apparitions. The circumstance of "five hundred brethren" con
duces to the same conclusion ; for it does not appear that on the
morning after the death of Jesus, the group of his friends was com
pact enough to fumish such a gathering {Acts i 15). Many of
the Gnostic sects, especiaUy the Valentinians and the Sethians, esti-

THE APOSTLES. 313
mated the continuance of the apparitions at eighteen months, and
even founded mystic theories on that notion (Irenseus Ado. hter i
uu 2; xxx. 14). The author of the Acts atone (i 3) fixes iie
duration of the disentombed hfe of Jesus at forty days. But this is
very poor authority; above aU, if we remark that it is connected
with au erroneous system (Luke xxiv. 49, 50, 52; Acts i 4, 12),
according to which the whole disentombed life of Jesus would have
been passed at Jerusalem or in its vicinity. The number forty is
symhoUe (the people spend forty years in the desert ; Moses, forty
days on Mount Sinai ; EUjah and Jesus fast forty days, £e.). As
to the formula of the narrative adopted by the author of the last
twelve verses of the second Gospel, and by the author of the third
Gospel, a formula according to which the events are conflned to one
day, the authority of Paul, the most ancient and the strongest of
all, corroborating that of the fourth Gospel, which affords the
most connected and authentic record of tliis portion of the evan-
geUc history, appears to us to furnish a conclusive argument
21. Luke xxiv. 34.
22. John XX. 19, 26.
23. Matt, xxviu. 9; Luke xxiv. 37, etseq.; Johnxx. 27, et seq.; Gospel
of the Hebrews, in St Ignatius, the Epistle to the Smymiotes 3, and
in St Jerome, Be 'Viris lUustribus, 16.
24. John vi 64.
25. Matt xxviii 11-15; Justin, Bial cum Tryph. 17, 103.
26. Matt, xxvii 62-66 ; xxviii 4, 11-15.
87. Ibid, xxviii 9, et seq.
28. The Jews are enraged. Matt xxvii. 63, when they hear that Jesus
had predicted his resurrection. But even the disciples of Jesus
had no precise ideas in this respect
29. A vague idea of this sort may be found in Matthew xxvi. 32;
xxviii 7, 10 ; Mark xiv. 28 ; xvi 7.
30. This is plainly seen in the miracles of Salette and Sourdes. One of
the most usual ways in which a miraculous legend is invented is the
foUowii^. A person of holy life pretends to heal diseases. A sict per
son is brought to him or her, and in consequence of the excitement
finds himself reheved. Next day it is bruited abroad iu a circle of
ten miles that there has been a miracle. The sick person dies five
or six days afterwards ; no one mentions the fact ; so that at the
hour of the burial of the deceased, people at a distance of forty miles
are relating with admiration liis wondrous cure. The word loaned
to the Grecian philosophy before the ex votos of Samothrace (Diog.
Laert VI. ii 59,) is also perfectly appropriate.
31. A phenomenon of this kind, and one of the most striking, takes place
annuaUy at Jerusalem. The orthodox Greeks pretend that the fire
which is spontaneously Ughted at the holy sepulchre on the Saturday
of the holy week preceding their Easter, takes away the sins of those
whose faces it touches without burning them. ICUions of pUgruns
14

314 THE APOSTLES.
have tried it and know full weU that thia fire does burn (the contor
tions whioh they m.ake, joined to the smeU, are a aufScient proof).
Nevertheless, no one has ever been found to contradict the behef of
the orlliodox Church. This would be to avow that they were defi
cient in faith, that they were unworthy of the mirade, and to
acknowledge, oh, heavens! that the Latins wore tlie true Church;
for this mirade is considered by the Greeks as the most convmoing
proof that theirs is the only good churdi.
32. The affair of Salette before the dvU tribunal of Grenoble (deoi-ee of
2d May, 1855), and before the court of Grenoble (decree of 6th May,
1357), pleadings of MM. Jules Favre and Bethinont, Sco., coUected
by J. Sabbatier (Grenoble YeUot 1857.)
33. John XX. 15. Could it mdude a glimmering of this ?
34. See above.
36. John expressly says so, xix. 41, 42.
36. John XX. 6, 7.
37. One cannot help thinking of Mary of Bethany, who in fact is not
represented as taking any part m the event of the Sunday moming.
See "Life of Jesus". -p. 341, et seq.; 359, et seq.
38. Celsus has already deUvered somo excellent critical observations
on this subject (in Origen). Contra Celsum, u. 56.
39. Mark xvi. 9 ; Luke viU. 2.

CHAPTER IIL
1. Luke xxiv. 47.
2. Respecting tho name of " GaUleans " given to the Christians, see be
low.
3. Matthew ia exduaively GalUoan ; Luke and the second Mark, xvi.
9-22, are exdusively Jerusalomitish. Jolin unites tho two traditions.
Paul (i Oor. xv. 6-8) also admita tho ocourrenoo of visions at widely
sepai-ated places. It is possible that the vision of " the flve hundred
brethren " of Paul, whioh wo have conjecturally identified with that
"of the mountain of GalUee" of Matthew, was a Jerusalemita
vision.
4. 1. Cor. XV 7. One cannot explfun the silence of the four oanonioa'
EvangeUsts rospeoting this vision in any other way than by refei'-
ring it to an epoch placed on this side of tlie sdieme of their recital.
The dironologioal order of the visions, on whioh St Paul insists with
so much precision, leads to the same result.
6. Gospel of the Hebrews, cited by St Jerome Be Viris JU-mtribus, 2.
Compare Luke xxiv. 41-43.
6. Gospel of the Hebrews, cited above.
7. John vii. 5.

THK APOSTLES. 315
8, Could there be an aUusion to tliis abrupt diange m Gal. ii 6 ?
9, Acts i 14, weak autliority indeed. One already peroeivea m Luke
ft tendency to magniiy the part of Mary. Luke, diap. i. and u.
10. Jolm six. 26, 27.
11. The tradition rospeoting hia sojourn at Ephesus is modern and
valueless. Soo Epiplianius. -Utt: hertt. Ixxviii, 11.
13. See Ht'r) tfJfsm.
13. Gkispel ofthe lloln-ows, passage dted above.
14. Ao^ viii., 1 ; Galat. I 17-19 ; ii. 1, et seq.
13. Luke xxiv. 49, Acts i. 4,
16, This idea indeed is not developed until we come to the fourth
Gospol (ohM), xiv., XV., xvi). But it is indicated in Matt iu. 11.
Mtirlv i. 8; Luke iii. 16; xii. 11, 12, xxiv. 49.
17. Johu XX. aa-23.
18. Ibid, xvi 7.
19. Luko xxiv. 49 ; Acts i. 4, et seq.
80, Acts i 6-8.
21. I. Cor. XV. 7 ; Luke xxiv. 50, et seq. At-Lt i 2, et seq. Certainly it
might with propriety be adiiiittod tiiat the vision of Betliauy related
hy Luko was parallel to the vision of the mountain in Matthew
xxviii. 16, ol spq. triinsposing the pUioo where it occurred. And yet
this vision of Matthew is uot foUowod by the Ascension. In the
second oonclusiou of Mark, the vision with the final instructions,
foUowod by tho Aswusiou. takes place at Jerusalem. Lastly Paul
n>lates the vision " to all tho Apostles,'' as distmct firom that seen
by "the flw httudred brethren."
22. Othef traditions ivformd the confferring of this power to anterior
visions. (John xx. 23.)
23. Luko xxiv. 23 ; Aots xxv. 19.
24. Jrteull.
2C>. I Oor. XV. 8.
26. Matt xxTiii 20.
2T. Jolin ill 13; vi 62 : xvi. 7; xx. 77; Ephes. iv. 10; I. Peter iii. 22.
Neither Matthew nor 'John jfiNvs the recital of the Ascension. Paul
(I. Cor. XV. 7-S) oxoludos even the \-oiy idea.
88. M-irk xvi. 19 ; Luke xxiv. 50-52. Acts 2-12. Apol. i. 50. Asean-
t--ioi> ^Imiah, Ethiopio version, xi, 22; Latiu version (Venice, 1522),
sub fin,
89, Compare the aiwunt ofthe Trs\asfiguration.
30, Jos- Antiq. iv., viu. iiS.
31. IL Kius^ ii. 11. et seq.
S3. Luko, last chapter of the Gospel, aud the first chapter of the Acts.
33, Luko xxiiL 52.

316 THE APOSTLES.
CHAPTER IV.
1. Matt, xviii. 20.
2. ActSs i 15. The greater part of these "five hundred brethren''
doubtless remained in Galilee. That which is told in Acts ii. 41, ia
surely an exaggeration, or at least an antidpation.
3. Luke xxiv. 53; Acts ii 46; compare Luke ii 37; Hegesippus in
Eusebius, Htst. Eccles. ii 23.
4. Deuteron. x. 18 ; I. Tim. vi 8.
5. Read the 'Wars ofthe Jews of Josephus.
6. John XX. 22.
7. L Kmgs xix. 11-12.
8. This work appears to have been written at Hie commencement ofthe
second century of our era.
9. The Ascension of Isaiah, vi 6, et seq. (Ethiopic version.)
10. Matt. iii. 11; Mark i 8; Luke iii 16; Acts i 6; xi 16; xix. 14;
I. John 6, et seq.
11. Compare Misson, The Sacred Theatre of Cevennes (London, 1707),
p. 103.
12. Beime des Deua> Mondes, Sept 1853, p. 96, et seq.
13. Jules Remy, Jowmey to the Mormon Territory (Paris, 1860), Books H.
and HI.; for example, Voi I., p. 259-260; Voi IL 470, et seq.
14. Asti^, The Eetigious Bevivai of the United States (Lausanne, 1859).
15. Acts ii. 1-3 ; Justin Apol i 50.
16. The expression " tongue of fire " means in Hebrew, simply, a fiame
(Isaiah v. 24). Compare VirgU's ^neid IL 682, 84.
17. Jamblicus (De Myst, sec. iu. cap. 6) exposes aU this theory of the
luminous descents of the Spirit.
18. Compare Talmud of Babylon, Cha^ga, 14 b. ; Midraschim, Sckir
hasschirim Edbba, foi 40 b. ; Rvih Babba, foi 42 a. ; Kohetefh, Babba,
87 a.
19. Matt iii. 11 ; Luke iii 16.
20. Exodus iv. 10 ; compare Jeremiah i 6.
21. Isaiah vi 5, et seq. Compare Jeremiah i 9.
22. Luke xi. 12 ; John xiv. 26.
23. Acts u. 6, et seq. This ia the most probable sense of the narrative,
although it may moan that each of the dialects was spoken sepa
rately by each of the preachers.
24. Acts ii 4. Compare I. Cor. xu. 10, 28 ; xiv. 21, 22. Por analogous
imaginations, see CalmeU, Be la Folic, i p. 9, 262 ; ii p. 357, et seq.
25. Talmud of Jerusalem, Sota, 21 b.
26. Testimony of ihe Twelve Patriarchs, Judah, 25.
27. Acts U. 4 ; x. 34, et seq. ; vi 15 ; xix. 6 ; I. Cor. xii, xiv.

THE APOSTLES. 317
is. Mark xvi. 17. It must be remembered that in the andent Hebrew,
as iu all the othor ancient languages (see my Origin, of Language, p.
177, et seq.), the words meaning "stranger," "strange language,"
were derived from the words whioh signified "to stammer," "to
sob," au unknown dialect always appearing to a simple people, as it
were, an indistmct stammering. See Isaiah xxviii. 11 ; xxxiu. 19 ;
I. Cor. xiv. 21.
29. I. Cor. vUi 1, remembering what precedes.
30. L Cor. xii 28, 30; xiv. 2, et seq.
31. I. Sam. xix. 23, et seq.
. 32. Plutarch, Of the Pythian Oracles, 24. Compare the prediction of Cas
sandra in the Agamemnon of .^Eschylus.
33. I. Cor. xii. 3 ; xvi. 22 ; Rom. vUi 15.
34 Rom. viii 23, 26, 27.
35. I. Oor. vii. 1 ; xiv. 7, et seq.
36. Rom. viii. 26, 27.
37. I. Cor. xiv. 13, 14, 27, et seq.
38. Jurieu, Pastoral Letters, 3d year, 3d letter; Misson, The Sacred
Theatre of Cevermes, p. 10, 14, 15, 18, 19, 22, 31, 32, 36, 37, 65, 66,
68, 70, 94, 104, 109, 126, 140; Bruey's History of Fanaticism (Mont
pelier, 1709). I., pages 145, et seq. ; Fldohier, Select Letters (Lyon,
1734), I., p. 353, et seq.
39. Karl Hase, history of the Ch-wrch, §§ 439 and 458, 5 ; the Protestant
Journal, Hope, 1st April, 1 847.
40. M. Hohl, Bruhstuclce aus dem Leben umd den Schriften; Bdward
Irving's (Saint-Gall, 2839), p. 145, 149, et seq. ; Karl Hase, History
of fhe Gh-wrch, §§ 458, 4. For the Mormons, see Remy, Voyage I., p.
176-177, note ; 259, 260 ; II., p. 55, et seq. For the Convulsiouaries
of St. Medard, see, above all, Carr'd de Montgeron, The Truth about
Miracles, Ac. (Paris, 1737, 1744), II., p. 18, 19, 49, 54, 55, 63, 64, 80, &o.
41. Acts U. 13, 15.
42. Mark iii 21, et seq. ; John x. ?0, et seq. ; xu. 27, et seq.
43. Acts xix. 6 ; I. Cor. xiv. 3, et seq.
44. Acts X. 46 ; I. Cor. xiv. 15, 16, 26.
45. Col. in. 16; Eph, v. 49 (t//aX/iii( vfivoi w 6a\ -nvEvpariKai). See the
former chapters of the Gospel of Luke. Compare in particular,
Luke i 46, with Acts x. 46.
46. L Cor. xiv. 15; Col. ui. 16; Eph. v. 19.
47. Jeremiah i 6.
48. Mark xvi. 17.
49. I. Cor. xiv. 22. HvES/io in the Epistles of S. Paul, often approaches
the sense of Suvijii;. The spiritual phenomena are regarded as
ivvijius, that is to say, miracles.
50. Ireneeus, Adv. hmret Y., vi 1 ; TertuUian, Ado. Mwrciom, v. 8. Con-
stit. Apost vUi 1.

318 THE APOSTLES.
61. Luke ii 37 ; IL Cor. vi 5 ; xi 27. «
52. IL Cor. vii 10.
53. .Acts viii 26, el seq. ; x. entire ; xvi. 6, 7, 9, et seq. Compare Luke ii
27, &e.
64. AcIs XX. 1* 31. Eom. vUi 23, 26.

CHAPTEE V.
1. Ads ii. 42-47 ; iv. 32, 37 ; v. 1, 11 ; vi 1, et seq.
2. Ibid ii 44, 46, 47.
3. Ibid. u. 46.
4. No Uterary production has ever so often repeated the word "joy"
as the New Testament. See I. Thess. i 6; v. 16; Eom. xiv. 17;
XV. 13 ; Galat v. 22 ; PhiUp i 25 ; iii 1; iv. 4; L John i 4, &c.
5. Acts xii 12.
6. Safe LAfe of Jesus, p. xxxix., et seq.
7. Ebionim means "poor folk." See Life of Jesus, p. 182, 183.
8. To recaU the year 1000. AU instruments in writing commencing
with : T'he evening of the -world being at hand, or simUar expressions,
are in donations to the monasteries.
9. Hodgson, in the Journal of tlie' Asiatic Society of Bengal, voi V., p.
33, et seq. ; Eug&e Burnouf, Introduction to the History of India/n
Buddhism, i p. 278, et seq.
10. Lucian, Beath of Peregrinus, 13.
11. Papyrus at Turin, London, and Paris, coUected by Brunet de Presle,
Mem. respecting the Serapeum, of Memphis (Paris, 1852) ; Eggee, Mem.
of A-ncieid History and Philology, p. 151, et seq., and in the Notices
amd Extracts, vol. xviii., 2d part, p. 264^359. Observe that the
Christian-hermit life was first commenced in Egypt
12. Acts xi 29, 30; xxiv. 17; Galat ii 10; Eom. xv. 26, et seq.; L
Cor. xvi. 1-4 ; II. Cor. viu. and ix:
13. Ads V. 1-11.
14. Ibid. ii. 46 ; v. 12.
15. Ibid. ui. 1.
16. James, for instance, was aU his Ufe a pure Jew.
17. Acts U. 47; iv. 33; v. 13, 26.
18. Ads ii 46.
19. L Cor. X. 16 ; Justin, Apol i 65-67.
20. SunJfiTOo, Joseph, Antiq. XIV. x. 8, 12.
21. Luke xxii 19 ; I. Cor. xi. 24, et seq. ; Justin, passage already dted.
22. In the year 57, the institution eaUed the Eucharist already abounded
with abuses (I. Cor. xi 17, et seq.), and was, in consequence, ancient

THE APOSTLES. 319
23. Acts XX. 7 ; PUny, Epist. x. 97. Justm, Apol i 67.
24. Acts XX. 7, 11.
25. PUny, Epist. x. 97.
26. John XX. 26, does uot satisfactorily prove the contrary. The Ebion
ites always observed the Sabbath. St Jerome, in Matt xii, com
mencement
27. AcU i. 16-26.
28. See lAfe of Jesus, p. 437, et seq.
29. Compare Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. iii. 39 (according to Papias).
30. Justin, A-pol i 39, 50.
31. Pseudo-Abdias, etc.
32. Compare I. Cor. xv. 10, with Romans xv. 19.
33. Gal. i. 17, 19.
34. Ads vi. 4.
35. Compare Matt. x;. 2-4; Mark iii. 16-19; Luke vi. 14^-16; Acts i 13.
36. Ads i 14; Gal. i 19; I. Cor. ix. 5.
37. Gal. u. 9.
38. See Lifeof Jesns, p. 307.
39. See lAfe of Jesus, p. 150. Compare Papias in Eusebius, Hist. Eccl,
ui 39 ; Polyorates, Ibid. v. 24 ; Clement of Alexandria, Strom, iii
6; vii 11.
40. For instance fciVicoTrus, perhaps icXnpau See Wescher, in the
Archceohgical Review, AprU, 1866.
41. Ads i.. 26. See below, p.
42. Acts xui 1, et seq. ; Clement of Alexandria, in Eusebius, Hist Eccl,
ui 23.
43. Acts V. 1-11.
44. I. Cor. V. 1, et seq.
45. I. Tun. i 20.
46. Genesis xvii 14, and numerous other passages in the Mosaic code ;
Mischna, Kerithouth, i 1 ; Talmud of Babylon, Mood Katou, 28, a»
Compare TertulUan, De Animd, 57.
47. Consult the Hebrew and Eabbinical dictionaries, at the word JI'IS-
•Compare the word to exterminate.
48. Mischna, Sanhedrim ix. 6 ; John xvi. 2 ; Joseph. B. J., vii, viu., 1 ;
UL Maccab. (apoor.), vii. 8, 12-13.
49, Luke vi. 15; Acts i 13. Compare Matt. x. 4; Mark iii. 18.
60. Acts V. 1-11. Compare Ads xiii 9-11.
6L Actsi. 15; ii. 14, 37; v. 3, 29; Gal. i 18; ii. 8.
52. Ads ui 1, et seq. ; viii. 14; GaL u. 9. Compare John xx. 2, et seq. ;
xxi 20, et seq.
53. According to Matthew xxviii 1, et seq., the keepers would have been

320 THE APOSTLES.
witnesses to the descent of the angel who removed the stone. This
very embarrassed account would also lead us to conclude that the
women were witnesses of the same act, hut it does not expressly
say so. Anyhow, whatever the keepers and the women should
have seen, according to the same narrative, would not be Jesus re
suscitated, but the angei Such a story, isolated and inconsistent
as it is, is evidently the most modem of aU.
54. Luke xxiv. 48; Acts i 22; ii 32- ui 15; iv. 33; v. 32; x. 41;
xiii. 30, 31.
55. See above p. 1, note 1.
56. See "Life of Jesus," p. 275, et seq.
57. I. Cor. xvi. 22. These two words are Syro-Chaldaic.
58. Matt X, 23.
59. Ads u. 33, et seq. : x. 42.
60. Luke xxiv. 19.
6L Ads u. 22.
62. The diseases were generally considered to be the work of the devii
63. Acts X. 38.
64. Acts ii. 36; viii. 37; ix. 22; xvii. 31, &o.
65. Acts ii 44, et seq. ; iv. 8, et seq. ; 25, et seq. ; vii. 14, et seq. ; v. 43 and
the Epistle attributed to St. Barnabas, entire.
66. James i. 26-27.
67. Later it was called x^^'^p-y^^"- Ads xiii 2.
68. Heb. V. 6; vi 20; viii 4; x. IL
69. Eevei i 6; v. 10; xx. 6.
70. Ads xiu. 2 ; Luke ii 37.
71. Eom. vi. 4, et seq.
72. Acts Yui. 12, 16; x. 48.
73. Ads viii 16 ; x. 47.
74. Matt ix. 18 ; xix. 13, 15 ; Mark v. 23 ; vi. 5 ; vii 32 ; viii 23-25 j
X. 16; Luke iv. 40 ; viii 13.
75. Acts-n. 6; viii. 17, 19; ix. 12, 17; xiii 3; xiv. 6; xxviu. 8; 1 Tim.
iv. 14; V. 22; ii. Tim. i 6; Heb. vi. 2; James v. 13.
76. Matt. iu. 11; Mark i 8; Luke in. 16; John i 26; Ads i 5; xi 16;
xix. 4.
77. Matt xxviii 191
78. See the Cholaste, Sabeau manuscripts of the Imperial Bible, Nos. 8,
10, 11, 13.
79. Vendidad-Sade viii 296, et soq. ; ix. 1-145 ; xvi. 18, 19. Spiegel,
Avesta, u. p. 83, et seq.
80. L Cor. xu. 9, 28, 30.
81. Matt. ix. 2 ; Mark u. 5 ; John v. 14; ix, 2 ; James v. 15 ; Mischna.
Schabbath, U. 6; Talm. of Bab. Nedarim, foi. 41 a.

THE APOSTLES. 321
82. Matt. ix. 33; xii. 22; Mark ix. 16, 24; Lukexi. 14; Ads xix. 12;
TertuUian Apol xxii. ; adv. Mark iv. 8.
83. Ads V. 16 ; xix. 12-16.
84. James v. 14r-15. Mark vi 13.
85. Luke x. 34.
86. Mark xvi. 18 ; Ads xxviu. 8.
87. I. Thess. iv. 13, et seq. ; I. Cor. xv. 12, et seq.
88. PhU. i 33, seems to be a shade different. But compare I. Thess. iv.
14-17. See, above all, Eevei xx. 4-6.
89. Paul, in previously dted passages, and PhU. iii. 11 ; Eevei xx. en
tire ; Papias, in Eusebius, Hist Eccl iii. 39. Sometimes one sees a
different belief springing up, above aU iu Luke (Gospel xvi 22, et
seq. ; xxiu. 43, 46). But this is a weak authority on a point of
Jewish theology. The Essenians had already adopted the Greek
dogma of the immortaUty of the soul.
90. Compare Acts xxiv. 15 with I. Thess. iv. 13, et seq. ; PhU. iii 11.
Compare Eevei xx. 5. See Leblant, Christian Inscriptions in Gaul u.
p. 81, et seq.
91. Ads xi 27, et seq. ; xiii. 1 ; xv. 32 ; xxi. 9, 10, et seq. ; I. Cor. xii 28, et
seq. ; xiv. 29-37 ; Eph. ui 5 ; iv. 11 ; Revei i 3 ; xvi 6 ; xviu. 20,
24; xxii 9.
92. Luke i 46, et seq. ; 68, et seq. ; U. 29, et seq.
93. Ads xvi 25 ; 1. Cor. xiv. 15 ; Coi iu. 16 ; Eph. v. 19 ; James v. 13.
94. The identity of this chant in reUgious communities which have been
separated from the earUest ages proves that it is of great antiquity.
95. Num. V. 2; Deut xxvii 15, et seq.; Ps. 106, 48; I. Chron. xvi 36;
Nehem. v. 13, viii 6.
96. I. Cor. xiv. 16; Justin. Apol i 65, 67.
97. I. Cor. xiv. 7, 8, does uot prove it. The use ofthe verb i//aXXiu does
not any more prove it This verb originaUy implied the use of an
instrument with strings, but in time it became synonymous with
" to chant the Psalms."
98. Coi iu. 16 ; Eph. v. 19.
99. See Du Cange, at the word Lolla/rdi (edit. Didot). Compare the
CantUenes of the Cevenols. Prophetic wa/rnings of Elijah Ma/rion
(London, 1707), p. 10, 12, 14, &c.
100. James v. 12.
101. Matt xvi. 28; xxiv. 34; Mark vni 39; xui 30; Luke ix. 27;
xxi. 32.

M*

322 THE APOSTLES.
CHAPTER VI
1. Ads, first chapters.
2. Acts V. 42.
3. See for example. Acts ii 34, &c., and in general aU the first chapters.
4. L Cor. i 22; U. 4-5; IL Cor. xu. 12; L Thess. i 5; H. Thess. ii 9;
Gai iii 5 ; Eom. xv. 18-19.
5. Eom. XV. 19 ; IL Cor. xii. 12 ; L Thess. i. 5.
6. Acts V. 12-16. The Ads are full of miracles. That of Eutychus
{Ads XX. 7-12) is surely related by ocular testimony. The same
of Ads xxviii. Comp. Papias in Euseb. H. E. ui 39.
7. Jewish and Christian exorcism were regarded as the most efficacious
even for the heathen. Damasdus, Vie d'Isidore, 56.
8. Ads V. 15.
9. L Cor. xu. 9, &c., 28, &a ; Constit. apost. viii 1.
10. IreuiBus. Adv. hcer. ii xxxii 4 ; v. vi. 1 ; TertulL Apol 23-43 ; Ad
Sca/pulam, 2 ; Be Gorona, 11 ; De Spedaculis, 24; DeAni-ma, 57; Co-nstit.
Apost. chapter noted, which appeared drawn from the work of St.
Hippolytus upon the Chrismata.
11. Miracles are of daUy occurrence among the Mormons. Jules Eemy,
A Visit to the Mormons, I. p. 140, 192, 259-260 ; IL 53, &c.
12. Acts iv. 36-37. Cf. ibid. xv. 32.
13. Ibid. xui. 1.
14. Ibid, xxi 16.
15. Jos. Ant XITL x. 4; XVU. xii 1, 2 ; Phflo, Leg. ad Caium, § 36.
16. Hence for Barnabas his name of HaUevi and of Coi iv. 10-11. Mna
son appeara to be the translation of some Hebrew name from the
root zacar, as Zacharius.
17. Coi iv. 10-11.
18. ^ctexii 12.
19. I. Petri, V. 13. Acts xu. 12 ; Papias in Euseb. H. E. iii 39.
20. Acts xii. 12-14. AU this chapter, where the affairs of Peter are so
minutely related, appears edited by John-Mark.
21. As the name of Marcus was not common at that time among the
Jews, there is no reason for referring to diffferent individuals the
passages relating to a personage of that name.
22. Comp. Acts viii 2, with Acts ii 5.
23. Aots. vi 5.
24. Ibid.
25. Comp. Ads xxi. 8-9 with Papias in Euseb. Hist Eccl iu. 39.
26. Eom. xvi. 7. It is doubtful whether 'lovula or 'lomtas = J-anianvs.
27. Paul caUs them his irvy-yccTs ; but it is difficult to say whether that
signifies that these were Jews, of the tribe of Benjamin or of Tarsus,
or really relations of Paui The first sense is the most probable.

THE APOSTLES. 323
Comp. Rom. ix. 3 ; xi 14. In any event, this word impUes that
they were Jews.
28. Ads vi. 1-5 ; II. Cor. xi 22 ; Phil. ui. 5.
29. Acts ii 9-11 ; vi 9.
30. The Talmud of Jerusalem, MegiUa, foi 73 d, mentions four hundred
and twenty-five synagogues. Comp. Midrasoh Eka, 52 b, 70 d.
Such a number would appear by no means improbable to those who
have seen the Uttie family mosques whioh are found in every
Mahommedan viUage. But the Talmudic information about Jerusa
lem is of mediocre authority.
31. Ads vi. 1.
32. The Epistlo of St James was written in moderately pure Greek. It
is true that the authenticity of this Epistle is not certain.
33. The savants wrote in andent Hebrew, somewhat altered.
34. Jos. Ant last paragraph.
35. This proves the transcriptions of Greek into Syriac. I have de
veloped here in my Eclaircisse-ments sires des Lang-ues Semitiques swr
q-uelq-ue points de la Prononciatian Grecque. (Paris, 1849.) The lan
guage of the Greek inscriptions of Syria is very bad.
36. Jos. A-ni. loo. oit.
37. Sat. L V. 105.

CHAPTER vn.
1. See the accounts coUected and translated by Eugene Burnouf. In
troduction to the History of Indiam Buddhism,, i p. 137, and foUowing
pages, and particularly pp. 198, 199.
2. See Life of Jesus.
3. Ads u. 45 ; iv. 34, 37 ; v. 1.
4. Ads V. 1, aud foUowing verses.
5. Ibid. u. 45; iv. 35.
6. Ibid. vi. 1, &c.
7. See chapter vi.
8. Acts xxi. 8.
9. Phii i 1 ; I. Timothy iii. 8, and foUowing.
10. Eomans xvi 1, 12; 1. Tim. iu. 11 ; v. 9, and foUowing. PUny Epist
X. 97. The Epistles to Timothy are most probably not from the pen
of Saint Paul ; but are in any event of very andent date.
11. Rom. xvi 1; I. Cor. ix. 5. Philemon 2.
12. I. Tim. V. 9, and foUowing.
31. Constit Apost vi. 17.

324 THE APOSTLES.
14. Sap. ii. 10 ; BccL xxxvU. 17 ; Matthew xxiii 14 ; Mark xii 40 ;
Luko XX. 47 ; James 27.
15. Misdma, Sota, iii 4.
16. Talmud of Babylon, Sota 22 a; Comp. I. Tun. v. 13.
17. Acts vi. 1.
18. Ibid, xii, 12.
19. I. Tim. V. 9, and foUowing. Compare Acts ix. 39, 41.
20. I. Tim. V. 3, and foUowing.
21. Ecclesiastes vii 27 ; Ecclesiasticus vii. 26, and foUowing; ix. 1, and
foUowing; xxv. 22, and foUowing; xxvi. 1, and foUowing; -r1ii 9,
and foUowing.
22. Por the costume of the widows ofthe Eastern Church, see the Greek
manuscript No. 64 in the Bibliothique Imperiale (old buUding), foi 11.
The costume to this day is very nearly the same the type, the reU
gious female of the East, being the widow, as that of the Latin nun
is the virgin.
23. Compare the " Shepherd " of Hermas, vis. ii ch. 4
24 KnAoypi'a, the name of the reUgious females or nuns of the Eastem
Church. KaXdj combines the significance of both "beautiful"
and " good."
25. See Note 16.
26. I. Cor. xii. entire.
27. The Pietist congregations of America, who are to the Protestants
what convents are to the CathoUcs, resemble in many points the
primitive churches. Bridel, Eecits Americains. (Lausanne, 1861.)
28. Prov. iu. 27, and foUowing; x. 2; xi. 4; xxii 9; xxviii 27; Ecoi
iii. 23, and foUowing; vii. 36 ; xu. 1, and foUowing; xviii 14; xx.
13, and foUowing ; xxxi. 11 ; Tobit, u. 15, 22 : iv. 11 ; xii. 9 ; xiv. 11 ;
Daniel iv. 24; Talmud of Jerusalem; Pedh. 15, 6.
29. Matthew vi. 2 ; Mischna, Schekalim, v. 6 ; Talmud of Jerusalem,
Bemai, foi 23, b.
30. Ads X. 2, 4, 31.
31. Ps. cxxxiii
32. Ads ii. 44r-4,1 ; iv. 32-36.
33. Ibid, a 41.
34. See chapter vi.
35. Ads vi 5 ; xi. 20.

CHAPTER vm.

1. Acts iv. 6. See Life of Jesus,
2. Actsiv. 1-31; V. 47-4L
3, See Life of Jesus,

THE APOSTLES. 325
4. Acts V. 41.
5. Ib. iv. 5-6; v. 17. Comp. James u. 6.
6. rims apxiepanxon, in Acts j. ; apxicpsi; in Josephus Ant xx. viii. 8.
7. Acts XV. 5 ; xxi 20.
8. Let us add that the reciprocal antipathy of Jesus and the Pharisees
seems to have been exaggerated by the synoptical Evangelists, per
haps on account of the events which, at the time of the great war,
led to the flight of the Christians beyond the Jordan. It cannot
be denied that James, brother of the Lord, was pretty nearly a
Pharisee.
9. Acts V. 34, and foUowing. See Life of Jesus.
10. Acts vi. 8 ; vii 59.
11. Probably descendants of Jews who had been taken to Eome as
slaves, and then freed. PhUo, Leg. ad Gaium, § 23 ; Tacitus, Ann.
ii 85.
12. See Life of Jesus.
13. Matt. XV. 2, and foUowing ; Mark vu. 3 ; Gal. i 14.
14. Compare Gal. iii. 19; Heb. ii. 2; Jos. Ant. XV. v. 3. It was sup
posed that God Himself had not revealed Himself in the theo-
phanies of the andent law, but that he had substituted in his place
a sort of intermediary, the maXedk Jehovah. See the Hebrew dic
tionaries on the word "TK^ti-
15. Deut xvii. 7.
16. Acts vii. 59 ; xxii. 20 ; xxvi. 10.
17. John xviu. 31.
18. Josephus, Ant XVIIL iv. 2.
19. Ib., Ib., XV. xi. 4 ; XVIIL iv. 2. Compare XX. i 1, 2.
20. The whole trial of Jesus proves this. Compare Acts xxiv. 27 ;
xvv. 9.
21. Suetonius, Cai-us, 6; Dion Cassius lix. '8, 12; Josephus Ant XVIII.
v." 3; vi 10; 2 Cor. xi. 32.
22. Ventidius Cumanus experieuoed quite similar adventures. It is
true that Josephus exaggerates the misfortunes of all thoso who
are opposed to his nation.
23. Madden, History of Jewish Coinage, p. 134, and foUowing.
24 Jos. Aid. XVIII. iv. 3.
25. Ib., XVIII. V. 3.
26. Ads viu. 2. The words iviif rfXa/J^j designate a proselyte, not a
pure Jew. See Acts ii. 5.
27. ^cteviii 1, and following ; xi. 19; Aots xxvi. 10, would even lead
to the belief that there were other deaths than that of Stephen.
But we must not misconstrue words in our versions of a style so
loose. Compare Acts ix. 1-2 with xxu. 5 and xxvi. 12.
28. Compare Aots i 4; viii 1, 14; GaL i 17, and foUowing.

326 THE APOSTLES.
29. Acts ix. 26-30 prove, in fact, that in the mind of the author the
expressions of viii 1 had not a meaning so absolute as might be
supposed. [Except that after the first panic was over some of the
disciples, at flrst whoUy scattered, may have retumed by the time
of Saul's arrival.— Tr.]
30. This happened in the case of the Essenians.
31. This happened to the Franciscans.
32. I. Thess. ii 14
33. Acts viii 3 ; ix. 13, 14, 21, 26 ; xxu. 4, 19 ; xxvi 9, and foUowing;'
Gai i 13, 23 ; L Cor. xv. 9 ; Phii ni 6 ; L Tim. i 13. j
34. Gai i 14; Acts xxvi. 5 ; PhU. iii 5.
35. Acts ix. 13, 21, 26.

CHAPTEE IX
1. Acts viii 1, 4; xi 19.
2. Acts viii. 5, and foUowing. That it was not the apostle is evident
from a comparison of the passages. Acts viu. 1, 6, 12, 14, 40 ; xxi 8.
It is true that the verse. Ads xxi. 9, compared with what is said by
Papias (in Eusebius His. Ece. in. 39), Polyorates (ib. v. 24), Cle
ment of Alexandria (Strom, iii. 6), would identify the Apostle Phi
Up, of whom these three ecclesiastical writers are speaking, with
the PhUip who plays so important a part in the Acts. But it is
more natural to admit that the statement in the verse in question
is a mistake, and that the verse was only interpolated to contradict
the tradition of the churches of Asia and even of Hierapolis,
whither the PhiUp who had daughters prophetesses retired. The
particular data possessed by the author of the 4th Gospel (written,
as it seems, in Asia Minor), in regard to the Apostle PhlUp are thus
explained.
3. See Life of Jesus, ch. xiv. It may be, however, that the habitual
tendency of the author of the Ads shows itself here again. See
Ini/rod., and supra.
4 Ads viii 5-40.
5. Jos. Ant. XVIIL iv. 1, 2.
6. At this day Jit, on the road from Nablous to Jaffa, an hour and a
half from Nablous and from Sebastieh. See Eobinson Bib. Res.
ii. p. 308, note ; in. 134 (2d ed.), and his map.
7. The accounts relative to this personage, given by the Christian wri
ters, are so fabulous that doubts may be raised even as to the
reality of his existence. These doubts are aU the more specious
from the fact that in the Pseudo-Clementine Uterature "Sunon the
Magician " is often a pseudonym for St Paul. But we cannot admit
that the legend of Simon rests upon this foundation alone. How
could the author of the Ads, so favorable to St. Paul, have admitted

THE APOSTLES. 327
a doctrine the hostUe bearing of which could not have escaped
him ? The chronological series of the Simonian School, the writ
ings whioh remain to us of it, the precise facts of topography and
chronology given by St. Justin, feUow-oountryman of our thauma
turgist, are inexpUcable, moreover, upon the hypothesis of Simon's
having been au imaginary person. (See especiaUy Justin Apol U.
15, and Bial cum Tryph. 120.)
8. Acts viu. 5, and foUowing.
9. Ib. viu. 9, and following.
10. Justin, Apol i. 26, 56.
11. Homil Pseudo-Clem. xvii. 16, 17; Quadratus, iu Eusebius Hist. Ecc.
iv. 3.
12. Ads vUi 26.
13. Ib. vUi 26-40.
14 I. Mace. X. 86, 89 ; xi. 60, and following. Jos. Ant XIII., xiii 3 ;
XV. vu. 3 ; XVIII. xi 5; B. J, J. iv. 2.
15. Eobinson Bib. Res., II. p. 41 and 514, 515 (2d ed).
16. Talm. of Bab. Erubin 53 b and 54 a; Sota, 46 b.
17. Isaiah Uii. 7.
18. At this day Mdrawi, near to Gebel-Barkal (Lepsius, Benkmoeler i pi
1 and 2 bis.) Strabo XVII., i 54
19. Strabo, XVIL, i. 54; PUny VL, xxxv. 8; Dion Cassius liv. 5;
-Eusebius Hist. Ecc. u. 1.
20. The descendants of these Jews stUl exist under the name of FaU-
sy^n. The missionaries who converted them came from Egypt
Their translation of the Bible was made from the Greek version.
The FaUsy^n are not Israelites by blood.
21. John xii 20 ; Acts x. 2.
22. See Beut xxiii 1. It is true that svmixos might be taken by cata-'
chresis to designate a chamberlain as functionary of the Oriental
Court But 6\ii,dairi! was sufficient to render this idea; dpovxos
ought then to be taken here in its proper senae.
23. Acts viu. 26, 29.
24 To conclude thence that aU this history was invented by the author
of the Ads seems to us rash. The author of the Acts insists with
satisfaction upon the facts which support his opinions ; but we do
not believe that ho introduces into his narrative facts purely sym
bohcal or deUberately mvented. See Inirod.
25. For the analogous state of the first Mormons, see Jules Eemy,
Voyage aupays des Mormons (Paris, 1860), i p. 195, and foUowing.
,26. Ads viu. 39-40. Compare Luke iv. 14
27. Acts tx. 32, 38.
28. Ib. vui 40; xi. 11.
29. Ib. xxi 8.

328 THE APOSTLES.
30. Jos. B. J. in. ix. 1.
31. Ads xxiii 23, and foUowingf xxv. 1, 5 ; Tadtna Hist, ii 79.
32. Joa. B. J. IIL ix. 1.
33. Joa. Ani. XX. viii. 7 ; B. J. II. xiii 5 ; xiv. 5 ; xviii 1.
34 Palm, of Jerusalem, Sota, 21 b.
35. Jos. Ant. XIX. vu. 3-4; viii 2.
36. Ads xi 19.
37. Ib. ix. 2, 10, 19.

CHAPTEE X.
1. This date resulted from the comparison of chapters ix., xi, xii of
the Ads with Gal. i 18 ; ii. 1, and from the synchronism presented
" by Chapter xii. of the Acts with profane history, a synchronism
whioh fixes the date of the incidents detaUed in this chapter at the
year 44.
2. Ads ix. 11 ; xxi. 39 ; xxii 3.
3. In the Epistle to PhUemon, written about the year 61, he caUs him
self an " old man " (v. 9) ; Ads vii 57, he caUs himself a young man.
4. In the same way that those named " Jesus " often oaUed themselves
"Jason ;" the "Josephs," " Hegesippe ;" the " EUacim," " Aloime," etc.
St. Jerome {De Vifis IU. 5) supposes Paul took his name from the
proconsul Sergius Paulus {Acts xiii 9). Such an explanation seems
hardly admissible. If the Ads only give to Saul the name of " Paul,"
after his relations with that personage, that would argue that the
supposed conversion of Sergius was the first important act of Paul
as apostle of the Gentiles.
6. Ads xiii 9, and foUowing. The closing phrases of aU the Epistles ;
n. Peter ui. 15. .
6. The Ebionite calumnies (Epiphan. Adv. 'haer. xxx. 16, 25) should
uot be seriously taken.
7. St Jerome, loc. cit. Inadmissible as the present St. Jerome, though
this tradition appears to have some foundation.
8. Eom. xi 1 ; PhiL iu. 5.
9. Acts xxu. 28.
10. Acts xxiii. 6.
11. PhU. ui 5 ; Acts xxvi 5.
12. Ads vi. 9 ; PhUo, Leg. ad Caium, % 36.
13. Strabo XIV. x. 13.
14. Ibid. XIV. X. 14, 15 ; PhUoatratua Vie (^ApoUonius, 1, 1.
15. Joa. Ant, laat paragraph, Cf. Vie de Jesus.
16. PhUostratus, loc. cit.

THE APOSTLES. 329
17. Acts xvii. 22, etc. ; xxi. 37.
18. Gal. vi. 11 ; Eom. xvi 22.
19. II. Cor. xi 6.
20. Acts xxi. 40. I have elsewhere explained the sense of the word
'ESpai'irn'. Hist. des Langes Semit u. 1, 5; iii' 1, 2.
21. Acts xxvi. 14.
22. I. Cor. XV. 33, CE Meinecke. Mencmdri fragm. p. 75.
23. Tit i 12 ; Ads xvi'i 28. The authenticity of the Epistle to Titus is
very doubtfui As to the discourse in chapter xvu. of the Acts, it is
the work of the author of the Acts rather than of St. Paul.
24 The verse quoted from Aratus (Phsenom. 5) is reaUy found in Cle
anthes {Hymn to Jupiter, 5). Both are doubtless taken from some
anonymous reUgious hymn.
25. Gal. i 14.
26. Ads xvii 22, etc. Observe note 23.
27. See Vie de Jesus, p. 72.
28. Ads xvui 3.
29. Ibid. xvui. 3 ; L Cor. iv. 12 ; L Thess. ii 9 ; IL Thess. iii. 8.
30. Acts xxui 16.
31. II. Oor. viu. 18, 22 ; xii 18.
32. Eom. xvi 7, 11, 21.
33. See above aU the Epistle to PhUemon.
34 Gal. V. 12 ; PhU. ui. 2. •
35. II. Cor. I. 10.
36. Ada Pauli et Thecke 3, in Tischendorf, Ada Apost, apoor. (Leipzig,
1851), p. 41, and the notes (an ancient text perhaps, the original
spoken of by TertuUian) ; the Phihpatris, 12 (composed about 363) ;
Malala Chronogr. p. 257, edit Bonn; Nioephore, Hist. Eccl. ii. 37.
AU these passages, above all that of Phihpatris, admit that these
were ancient portraits.
37. L Cor. ii. 1, etc. ; H. Cor. x. 1, 2, 10 ; xi. 6.
38. I. Cor. u. 3 ; IL Cor. x. 10.
39. II. Cor. xi. 30 ; xu. 5, 9, 10.
40. I. Cor. u. 3 ; IL Cor. i 8, 9 ; x. 10 ; xi. 30 ; xu. 5, 9, 10 ; GaL iv.
13, 14
41. IL Cor. xu. 7-10.
42. I. Cor. vii. 7, 8, and the context.
'43. I. Cor. vu. 7, 8 ; ix. 5. This second passage is far from being de
monstrative. PhU. iv. 3, would imply the contrary. Comp. Clement
of Alexandria, Strom, iii. 6, and Euseb. Hist Eccl ui. 30. The pas
sage I. Cor. vii 7, 8 alone has any weight on this point
44. I. Cor. vii. 7-9.
45. Acts xxii 3 ; xxvi 4

330 THE APOSTLES.
46. Ibid, xxii 3. Paul does not speak of this matter in certain parts of
his Epistles where he would naturaUy mention him (PhU. iii 5).
There is an absolute contradiction between the prindples of Gama-
Uel {Ads V. 34, etc.) a'nd the conduct of Paul before his conversion.
47. Gal. i 13, 14 ; Ads xxii 3 ; xxvi 5.
48. II. Cor. V. 16, does not impUcate him. The passages Ads xxii. 3,
xxvi. 4, give reason to beUeve that Paul was at Jerusalem at the
same time as Jesus. But it does not foUow that he saw him.
49. Acts xxii. 4, 19 ; xxvi 10, 11.
50. Ibid xxvi. 11.
51. High-Priest from 37'to 42 ; Jos. Ant. XVIU. v. 3 ; XIX vi 2.
52. Ads ix. 1, 2, 14; xxii 5; xxvi 12.
53. See Revue Numis-maiique, new series, voi ui (1858), p. 296, etc. ; 362,
etc. ; Revue Archeol, AprU, 1864, p. 284, etc
54 Jos. B. J. n. XX. 2.
55. II. Oor. xi 32. The Eoman money at Damascus is wanting during
the reigns of CaUgula and Claud. Eckhel, Boctrina num. vd., part
1, voi ui p. 330. Damascus money, stamped "Aretas PhUheUenius "
(ibid.), seems to be of our Hareth (commuuication of M Waddington).
66. Jos. Ant. XVIIL v. 1, 3.
57. Comp. Ads xii. 3 ; xxiv. 27 ; xxv. 9.
58. Ads V. 34, etc.
59. See an analogous trait in the conversion of Omar. Ibn-Hiseham.
Sirat errasoul, p. 22^ (Wiistenfeld edition).
60. Ads ix. 3 ; xxu. 6 ; xxvi. 13.
61. Adsi^.-i^ 8; xxu. 7, 11; xxvi. 14, 16.
62. It is here that the tradition of the middle ages locates the miracle.
63. This results from Acts ix. 3, 8 ; xxii 6, 11.
64. Nahr el-Aroadj.
65. The plain is reaUy more than seventeen hundred feet above the
level of the sea.
66. Ads xxvi. 14
67. From Jerusalem to Damascus is over eight days' journey.
68. Ads tx. 8, 9, 18 ; xxu. 11, 13.
69. II. Cor. xii. 1, etc.
70. I experienced a crisis of this kind at Byblos; and with other prin
dples I would certainly have taken the haUucinations that I had
then for visions.
71. We possess thirteen accounts of this important episode : Ads tx. 1,
etc. ; xxii 5, etc. ; xxvi. 12, etc. The differences remarked between
these passages prove that the apostle himself varied in the accounts
he gave of his conversion. That in Acts tx. itself is not homogene
ous, as we shaU soon see. Comp. Gal. i 15-17 ; L Cor. ix. 1 ; xv.
8 ; Acts ix. 27.

THE APOSTLES. 331
72. 'With the Mormons, and in the American trances, ahnost aU the con
versions are also induced by nervous excitement, producing haUu
cinations.
73. The ciroumstance that the companions of Paul saw and heard as he
did may be legendary, especially as the accounts are on this point,
being iu direct contradiction. Comp. Ads ix. 7 ; xxii. 9 ; xxvi 13.
The hypothesis of a faU from a horse is refuted by these accounts. The
opinion whioh rejects entirely the narration in the Acts, founded on
ev cfioi of Gai i 16, is exaggerated, eu 'E/^o! iu this passage, has
the sense of " for me." Comp. Gai i. 24 Paul surely had at a fixed
moment, a vision which resulted in his conversion.
74. Ads ix.3, 7 ; xxii 6, 9, 11 ; xxvi. 13.
75. This was my experience during my Ulness at Byblos. My recoUec
tions of the evening preceding the day" of the trance are totaUy
effaced.
76. n. Cor. xu. 1, etc.
77. Acts tx. 27 ; Gal. i 16 ; I. Cor. ix. 1 ; xv. 8 ; Hom. Pseudo-Clem.
xvii 13 — 19. Comp. the experience of Omar, Sirat errasoul, p.
226, etc.
78. Acts ix. 8 ; xxii. 11.
79. Its ancient Arabic name was Tarik el Adhwa. It isnowcaUed Ta/rik
el Mustekim, answering to ''Piim ivBsTa. The eastern gate {Bdb
Sha/rki) and a few vestiges of the colonnades yet remain. See the
Arabic texts given by Wustenfield in the Zeitschrift fiir vergleschende
Erakunde of Lildde for the year 1842, p. 168 ; Porter, Syria and Pa
lestine, p. 477 ; WUson, The Lands of the Bible, IL, 345, 355-52.
80. Ads xxii 11.
81. The account given in Ads tx. appears to have been formed from two
mingled narratives. One, the more original, comprises vv. 9, &c.
The other more developed, containing more dialogue and legend,
includes verses 9, 10, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18. The 12th verse
belongs neither to that which precedes nor to that which foUowa it.
The account in chapter xxii 12-16, is more conformed to the above-
mentioned texts.
82. Acts 'iX. 12. It should read auSpa ev SpifMn according to manu
script B. of the Vatican. Oomp. verse 10.
83. Ads ix. 18 ; comp. Tobit, u. 9 ; vi 10 ; xi 13.
84 Ads is.. 18; xxu. 16.
85. Gal. i 2, 8-9, 11, &c. ; L Cor. tx. 1; xi 23; xv. 8, 9; Coi i 25;
Bphes. i 19; iii 3, 7, 8; Ads xx. 24; xxii 14-15, 21; xxvi. 16;
HomUise Pseudo-Clem., xvii 13-19.
86. Gai i 17.
87. 'AoiiSla is "the province of Arabia," principaUy composed of the
Hauran.
88. Gai i. 17, &c. ; Acts ix. 19, &c. ; xxvi. 20. The author of the Ads
believes that this flrst sojourn at Damascus was short, and that

332 THE APOSTLES.
Paul, shortly after his conversion, came to Jerusalem and preached
there. (Comp. xxii 17.) But the passage ofthe epistle to the Gala
tians is peremptory.
89. Insc. discovered by Waddington and De Vogii^ (Eevue Ardieoi,
AprU, 1864, p. 284, &o., Comptes Rendus de I'Aoad. des Inscr. et B.
L., 1865, p. 106-108).
90. Dion Cass. Ux. 12.
91. I have discussed this in the Bulletin Archeologiq-ue of Langperier and
De Wette, September, 1856.
92. Gai i 16, with foUowing verses, prove that Paul preached immedi
ately after his conversion.
93. Jos. B. J., L, ii. 26 ; II., xx. 2.
94 Ads tx. 20-22.
95. Gai i 16. It is the sense of oi ^poiravedinitv uapici kol aijia-fu

CHAPTER XI.
1. Acts ix. 31.
2. See the atrociously najive avowal of 3 Maco. vii 12, 13.
3. Eead the 3d Book (apocryphal) of Maccabees, entire, and compare it
with that of Esther.
4 Suetonius, Caius, 22, 62 ; Dion Cassius, lix. 26, 28 ; PhUo, Leg. ad
Caium,, § 25, &c. ; Josephus, Ant XVIIL, viii ; XIX., i 1-2 ; B. J.,
II. X.
5. PhUo, ieff. ad Cai-um, § 30.
6. Philo, In Flaccvm, § 7 ; Leg. ad Caium, § 18, 20, 26, 43.
7. PhUo, Leg. ad Caium, § 29 ; Josephus, Ant. XVIII. viii; B. J. IL x. :
Tacitus, Ann. XIL 54; Hist. Y.S, completing the first passage by the
second.
8. PhUo, Leg. ad Caiwn, § 27, 30, 44^ and foUowing.
9. Acts ix. 31.
10. Gali 18, 19; u. 9.
11. Acts xi. 29, 30.
12. Acts tx. 32.
13. At this day, Ludd.
14. Acts ix. 32-36.
15. Jaff'a.
16. Jos. Ant XrV., X. 6.
17. Acts ix. 43; x. 6, 17, 32. ,
18. Mischna, Kduboth, vii. 10.
19. Compare Gruter, p. 891, 4; Reinesiua, Insoripl, XIV. 61 ; Mommsen,
Inscr. regni. Neap., 622, 2094, 3052, 4985 ; Pape, Wort der Griech.
Eigenn., on this word Cf. Jos. B. J. IV., iii 6.
20. Acts ix. 36, and foUovring.

THE APOSTLES. 333
21. Ibid. ix. 39. The Greek runs: Sua imfsi per' a-iriSv ovma.
23. Acts X. 9-16 ; xi. 5-10.
24 Ibid. X. 1 ; xi 18.
25. There were at least thirty-two. (OreUi & Heuzen, Inscr. Lat., Nos.
90, 512, 6756.)
26. Compare Aots xxvu. 1. and Heuzen, No. 6709.
27. Compare Luke vu. 2, and foUowing. Luke is priding himself, it is
true, upon thia idea of virtuous centurions, Jews in heart without
drcumcision (see Introduction). But the example of Izates (Jos.
Ant, XX., u. 5), proves that such situations were possible. Com
pare Jos. B. J., II., xxviU. 2 ; OroUi, Inscr., No. 2523.
28. Acts X. 2, 7.
29. This seems, it is true, in contradiction to Gal. ii. 7-9. But the con
duct of Peter in that which relates to the admission of the GeutUes
was never very consistent. Gal. u. 12.
30. Acts xi. 18.
31. Ibid. XV. 1, and foUowuig.
32. IL Cor. ii. 32, 33 ; Acts ix. 23-25.
33. Gal. i 18.
34 Ibid, i 18.
35. Ibid, i 23.
36. Acts ix. 26.
37. GaL i 18.
38. Acts tx. 26.
39. Acts ix. 27. AU this portion of the Acts has too Uttie historical
value to enable us to affirm that this fine action of Barnabas took
place during the fifteen days that Paul passed at Jerusalem. Kut
there is no doubt, in the manner in which the Acts present the case,
a true sentiment of the relations of Paul and Barnabas.
40. Gai i 19, 20.
41. Ibid, i 18. Impossible, consequently, to admit as exact the 28th
and 29th verses of Aots is:. The author of the Ads makes au abu
sive employment of these ambushes and murderous projects. The
Acts vary from the Epistle , to the Galatians in supposing the
sojourn of St. Paul at Jerusalem too long, and too near to his con
version. NaturaUy the Epistle merits our preference, at least, as to
its chronology and the material circumstances.
42. See especiaUy the Epistle to tho Galatians.
43. Epistle to the Galatians, i. 11, 12, and nearly throughout ; I. Cor. ix.
1, and foUowing; xv. 1, aud foUowing; II. Cor. xi 21, and following.
44 We find this sentiment more or less directly ; Rom. xU. 14 ; I. Cor.
xui. 2 ; n. Cor. ui 6; L Thess. iv. 8; v. 2, 6. '
46. Gal. i 22, 23.
46. Acts XX. 17, 21.

334 THE APOSTLES.
47. Acts ix. 29, 30.
48. Gal. i 21.
49. Acts ix. 30 ; xi. 25. The capital chronological datum for this epoch
of the life of St. Paul is GaL i 18 ; ii. 1.
60. CUicia had a church in the year 51. Ads xv. 23, 41.
51. It is in the Epistle to the Galatians (towards 56), that Paul places
himself for the first time openly in the rank of the apostles (i 1, and
the foUowing). According to Gai u. 7-10, he had received this title
in 51. StUl he did not assume it, even in the subscription of the
two Epistles to the Thessalonians, which are of the year 53.
I. Thess. ii 6, does not imply an official title. The author of the
Acts never gives Paul the name of "apostle." "The apostles," for
the author of the Ads, are "the Twelve." Acts xiv. 4, 14, is an
exception.

CHAPTER xn.
1. Acts xi. 19.
2. Josephus, tVars of t'he Jews, ii 4. Rome and Alexandria were the
two chief ones ; compare Strabo xvi. U. 5.
3. Compare OtfriedMiiUer, Antiochian Antiquities, Gottingen, 1839, p. 68.
Johu Chrysostom, on Saint Ignatius, 4 (opp. t. u. p. 597, edit Montfau-
con): On Matthew, Homflies ixxxv. 4 (voi viii p.810). He estimates
the population of Antioch at two hundred thousand souls, without
counting slaves, infants, and the immense suburbs. The present city
has a population of not more than seven thousand.
4 The corresponding streets of Palmyra, Gerasium, Gadara, and Sebaste,
were probably imitations of the grand Corso of Antioch.
5. Some traces of it are found in the direction of Btlb Bolos.
6. Dion Chrysostome, Orat xlvii. (vol. u. p. 229, edit Reiske), Libanius,
Antiochicus. p. 337, 340, 342, 356 (edit. Reiske), Malala, p. 232, et seq.,
276, 280, et seq. (Bonn, edition.) The constructor of these great
works waa Antiochus Epiphanea.
7. Libanius, Antioch. 342, 344.
8. Pausanias, vi. u. 7 ; Malala, p. 201 ; Visconti Mus. Pio-demen., voi ui
46. See especiaUy the medals of Antioch.
9. Pierian, Bottian, Penean, Tempean, CastaUan, Olympic games, JopoUs
(whioh was referred to Io). The city pretended to be indebted for its
celebrity to Inachus, to Orestes, to Daphne aud to Triptolemus.
10. See Malala, p. 199 ; Spartian, Life of Adrian, p. 14 ; JuUan, Misopogon,
p. 361, 362 ; Ammian MarcelUn., xxu. 14 ; Eckhel, Boct num vet part
i. 3, p. 326 ; Guigniaut, Religions de V'Ant planches No. 268.
11. John Chrysostom, Ad pop. A-ntioch.hormL xix. 1; (voL ii p. 189.) De
Sanctis martyr, i (voi ii. p. 651.)
12. Libanius, Antioch., p. 348.

THE APOSTLES. 335
13. Act. SS. Maji, v. p. 383, 409, 414, 415, 416 ; Assemani, Bib. or., u. 323.
14 Juvenal Sat, iii 62, et seq. ; Stace. Silves, i vi. 72.
15. Tacitus Ann. ii 69.
16. Malala, p. 284, 287, et seq. ; Libanius, De Angariis, p. 555, et seq. ;
Be carcere vindis, p. 445, et seq. ; ad Timocratem, p. 385 ; Antioch,
323; Philost, Vii ApollllQ-, Lucian, Be SaUatione, 1 6 ; Diod. Sic.
fragpa. lib. xxxiv. No. 34 (p. 358, ed. Dindorf ) ; John Chrysos. Homil.
vii. in Matt. 5 (voi vu. p. 113); IxxiU. in Matt 3 (ibid. p. 712); Be
consubst contra Anon., 1 (voi i., p. 501) ; Be Anna, 1 (voi iv. p. 730),
De David et Saiile iu. 1 (vol. iv. 768, 770); JuUan Misopogon, p. 343,
350, edit. Spanheim; Ades de Sainte Thede, attributed to BasU of
Seleucia, pubUshed by P. Pantius (Auvers, 1608) p. 70.
17. PhUostr. ApoU. iii. 58 ; Ausonius, Gla/r. Urb., 2 ; J. CapitoUn Verus,
7 ; Marcus Av/relius, 25 ; Herodian u. 10 ; John of Antioch in the
Excerpta Valesiana, p. 844 ; Suidas, at the word Toviap6g.
18. Julian Misopogon, p. 344, 365, etc. ; Eunap. Vie des Soph., p. 496, edit.
Boiss6nade (Didot) ; Ammien MarcelUn xxu. 14.
19. John Chrysos. BeLaza/ro, u. 11 (voi 1. p. 722, 723).
20. Cic. pro. Archid, 3, making allowance for the usual exaggeration of
an advocate.
21. 'Philostratua Vied' ApoUonius, in. 58.
22. Malala, p. 287, 289.
23. John Chrysoa., HomU. vu. On Matt. 5, 6. (voi vii p. 113); See 0.
MiiUer, Antiq. Antioch., p. 33 note.
24. Libanius, Antiochich-us, p. 355-366.
25. Juvenal, in. 62 et seq. and ForceUini, in the word a-iribubaja, where
he observes that the word ambuba is Syriac.
26. Libanius, Antioch p. 315 ; Be carcere vindis, p. 455 ; Julian Miso
pogon, p. 367, edit. Spanheim.
27. Libanius, Pro rhetoribus, p. 211. .
28. Libanius, Antiochich-us, p. 363.
29. Libanius, Antiochich-us, p. 354 et seq.
30. The actual enclosure, which is of the time of Justinian, presents
the same particulars.
31. Libanius, Antioch., p. 337, 338, 339.
32. The lake Ak Benir, whioh forms on this side the actual limit of the
territory of Antakieh, had, as it appears, no existence in olden
times. See Ritter, Erdkunde, xvu. p. 1149, 1613 et seq.
33. Josephus Ant., xii ui. 1 ; xiv. xii 6 ; IVars of the Jews, ii. xvui 5 ;
vii. iu. 2-4.
34 Josephus, agai-nst Apion, ii 4; 'Wars of the Jews, vii. ui. 2-4.
35. Malala, p. 244, 245 ; Jos., IVa/rs of the Jews, vu. v. 2.
36. Ads vi. 5.
37. Ibid. xi. 19, et seq.

336 THE APOSTLES.
38. Compare Josephus, "Wars of the Jews, ii xviii 2.
39. Ads XV. 20, 21. The proper reading is "EXAiikuj "EXXr^vKmis comes
from a false agreement with tx. 29.
40. Malala, p. 245. The narrative of Malala cannot, indeed, be exact,
Josephus says not a word respecting the invasion- of which the
chronographer makes mention.
41. Malala, p. 243, 265-266. Compare "Memoirs of Academy of Inscrip
tions and Belles-Lettres," session of 17 August, 1865.
42. S Athanasius, Tomus ad Antioch. (Opp. voi ip. 771, edit. Montfau-
con) ; S. John Chrysostom, Ad pop. Antioch, Homil i and ii. begin
ning (voi ii. p. i and xx.) ; In Inscr. Act. ii beginning (voi ui 60) ;
Chron. Pasch., p. 296 (Paris); Theodoret, Hist Ecoi, u. 27; ui 2.
8. 9. The agreement of these passages does not permit of in rj na-
'Knvfiiuri nnAiziS being rendered by "in that which was caUed the
old town," as the editors have sometimes done.
43. Malala, p. 242.
44. Pococke, Bescript of the East, voi ii part i p. 192 (London 1745),
Chesney, Expedition for the Survey ofthe Rivers Euphrates and Tigvis,
i 425, et seq.
45. That is to say, opposite to that part of the old town which is stiU
inhabited.
46. See below.
47. The type of the Maronites is reproduced in a striking manner in
the country of Antakieh, Soneideieb, and Beylan.
48. F. Naironi, Anoplia fidei Cathol. (Rome, 1694), p. 68, et seq., and the
work of S. Em. Paul Peter Masad, present patriarch of the Maron
ites, entitled Elitab ed. durr ed. manzoum (iu Arabic, printed at the
convent of Zamisch hi the Kesronan, 1863),
49. .4cfcxi. 19, 20; xui. L
60. Gai ii 11, et seq., presumes it to be so.

CHAPTER XTTT
1. Ads xi. 22, &c.
2. Ads xi. 25.
3. Acts xi. 26.
4. Libanius. Pro templis, p. 164, &c. ; Be carcere vinctis, p. 458.; Theo
doret, Hist Eccl iv. 28; Jean Chrysosf; HomU. Ixxii in MaU. 3
(vol. vii p. 705). In Epist. ad Ephes. Hom. -vi. 4 (voi xi p. 44) ; In
i Tun. Hom. xiv. 3 &c. (ibid. p. 628, &o.); Nioephore xii 44; Glycas
p. 257 (Paris edition).
6. Acts xi. 26.
6. The passages I. Petri iv. 16, and James u. 7, compared -with Suet
Nero ^ 6, and -with Tac. Ann. xv. 44, confirm this idea. See also
Ads xxvi. 28.

THE APOSTLES. ¦ 337
1. It is trae that we find 'Acnavds {Ads xx. 4; PhUo. Legatio, 36;
Strabo, etc.). But it seems to be a Latinism Uke Aa\S,apai, and the
names of the sects EificKioi-oi. Kr/piuBiani, SiiOiam!, etc. The Greek
derivative jcpiiri-fa had- .been ^^piVrtio;. It serves nothing to say
that the termination an-us is a Doric form of the Greek rivos - this
was not known ataU during the first century.
8. Tac. (loc. cit) so interprets, it.
9. Suet Cla-ud. 25. We shaU discuss this passage tn our next book.
10. Corpus Inscr. Gr. Nos. 2883 d., 3857 g., 3857 p., 3865 i Tertui Apol
3 ; Lactance Divin. Inst iv. 7. Comp. the French form chrestien.
11. James u. 7, only impUes an occasional usage.
12. Acts xxiv. 5 ; TertuU. Adv. Mmrcionem iv. 8.
13. Nesdrd. The names of meschihoio in Syriac, mesihi in Arabic, are
relatively modern, and outUned from xP'-"-'^''"^'- The name of " GaU
leans " is much more recent JuUan gave it an official signification.
JniL Epist vu. ; Gregory, Orat iv. (luvect i), 76 ; S. Cyrille d'Alex.
Contre Julien u. p. 39, Spanheim od.) ; Philopatris, dialogue falsely
attributed to Lucian, though really of the time of Julien, § 12 ;
Theodoret Hist Eccl. iii. 4. I beUeve that in Epictetus (Arrien,
Bissert iv., -vii, 6) and in Marcus AureUus {Pensies xi. 3), this
name does not designate Christians, but rather " assassins " {Sica-
ires), fanatical disciples of Judas the GalUean or tho Gaulonite, and
of John of Gisehala.
14. I. Petri iv. 16; James ii. 7.
15. Ads xui 2.
16., Ibid xiii 1.
17. See chapter vi.
18. Acts xiU. 1.
19. Euseb. Chron. at the year 43 ; Hist. Eccl iu. 22. Ignatu Epist. ad
Antioch. (apocr.) 7.
20. I. Cor. xiv. entire.
21. n. Cor. xu. 15.
22. It places this visipn fourteen years before he wrote the second
Epistle to tho Corinthians, which daies about the year 57. It is not
impossible, however, that he was stUl at Tarsus.
23. Por Jewish ideas about the heavens, see Testam. des 12 pair. Levi 3 ;
Ascension d'Isdie, vi. 13 ; viii. 8, and aU the rest of the book ; Talm.
of Babyi, Chagiga 12 b. ; Midraschim Bereschiih rahba, sect. xtx. foi
19 0. • Schemoth rabba, sect. xv. foi 115 d. ; Bammiabar rabba, sect
xiii foi 218 a. ; Debarim rabba, sect u. foi 253 a. ; Schir hasschirim
rabba, foi 24 d.
24 Comp. Tahnud of Babylon, Chagiga, 14 b.
25. Comp. Ascension disaie, vi 15 ; vu. 3, &c.
26. IL Cor. xu. 12 ; Eom. xv. 19.
27 I Cor. xu. entu'e. 15

338 THE APOSTLES.
28. Acts -a. 29; xxiv. 17; Gal u. 10; Rom. xv. 26; I. Oor. xvi 1; n.
Oor. vui 4, 14; ix. 1, 12.
-29. Jos. Ant. XT IIL, vi., 3, 4; XX., v. 2.
30. James u. 5, &c.
31. Acts xi. 28 ; Jos. Ant XX., u. 6 ; v. 2 ; Euseb. Hist. Fed. ii 8, 12.
Comp. Acts xu. 20 ; Tac. Ann. xii. 43 ; Suet Claud. 18 ; Dion Cass.
Ix. 11. AureUus Victor, Caa., 4; Euseb. Chron. year 43, &e. The_
reign of Claudius was afflicted almost every year by partial famines.
32. Ads xi 27, &c.
33. The book of Ads (xi 30 ; xii 25) includes Paul in this joumey. But
Paul declares that between his first sojourn of two weeks and his
journey for the aff'air of the drcumdsion, he did not visit Jerusalem.
(Gai ii 1.) See Introduction.
34 Gal. i, 17-19.
35. Adsxm. 3; xv. 36; xviii 23.
36. Ibid. xiv. 25 ; xviii 22.

CHAPTER XIV.
1. The inacriptibns of these countries fuUy confirm the indications of
Josephus. (Comptes Rendus de I'Acad. des Inscr. /. B. L., 1865. pp.
106, 109.)
2. Josephus, Ant-six. iv. B. J., u. xi
3. Ib. xix. V. i ; -vi. i ; B. J., II. xi 5 ; Dion Cassius, LX. 8.
4 Dion Cassius, LIX. 24
5. Jos. Ant. xix. ix. 1.
6. Ibid. XIX. vi 1, 3 ; u. 3, 4 ; vui 2 ; ix. 1.
7. Ibid. XIX. vu. 4.
8. Ibid. XIX. vi 3.
9. Juvenal, Sat. -vi. 158, 159 ; Persius, Sat. v. 180.
10. PhUo. In Flaccwm, § 5, and'foUo-wing.
11. Joa. Ant XIX. v. 2, and sequel; xx. vi 3. ; B. J, IL xii 7. The re
strictive measures which he took against the Jews of Eome {Ada
xviii 2; Suetonius Claude, 26; Dion Cassius, LX 6) were connected
¦with local circumstances.
12. Jos. Ant xix. vi. 3.
13. Ibid. xix. vii 2 ; B. J. -a. sd. & ; V. iv. 2. Tacitus, Hist v. 12.
14. Tacitus, Ann, vi 47.
15. Jos. Ant XIX vu. 2 ; vii 21 ; viu. 1 ; XX. i 1.
16. Ibid. XIX. viii 1.
17. Suetonius, Caius, 22, 26, 35; Dion Cassius, Ux. 24; ix. 8. Tadtns,

THB APOSTLES. 339
Ann. xi 8. As a type of the part these little Eastern Kings played,
atudy the career of~ Herod Agrippa I. in Josephus (Ani. xviii. and
xtx.) Compare Horace, Sai. L vu.
18. Supra.
19. Acts xii 3.
20. Ibid. xii. 1, and foUowing. ---
21. James was in fact beheaded, and not stoned to death.
22. Acts xii 3, and following.
23. IIM. xii 9, 11. Tho account in the Acts ia so Uvely and just, that it
js difficult to find any place in it for any prolonged legendary elabora
tion.
24. Jos. Ant xix. viii. 2 ; Acts xii. 18, 23.
25. Ibid. xix. vii 4.
26. Ads. xii 23. Compare 2 Maoc. ix. 9 ; Jos. B. J. I. xxxiii 5 ; Talmud
of Bab. Sola, 35 a.
27. Jos. Ant XIX. vi. 1 ; XX. i. 1, 2.
28. Ibid. XX. V. 2 ; B. j; u. xv. 1 ; xviii 7, and foUowing ; IV. x. 6 ; V. i 6 ;
Tacitus, Amn., XV. 28. Hlst\.\\-, ii 79 ; Suetonius, Vesp. 'a; Cor
pus Inscr. Grcec. No. 4957. (cf. ibid. iii. p. 3U.)
29. Jos. Ant XX. i 3.
30. Ibid. XX. V. 4, B. J, II. xu. .
31. Josephus, who relates with so much care, the history of these agitar
tions Ul all its detaUs, never mixes up the Christians with them.
32. Jos. Against Apion, ii 39 ; Dion Cassius, Ixvi 4.
33. Jos., B. J, IV., iv. 3 ; V., xiu. 6 ; Suetonius, Aug., 93 ; Strabo, XVL,
u. 34, 37 ; Tacitus, Hist, v. 5.
34 Jos., Ant, XIIL, be. 1; xi 3; xv. 4; XV., vil. 9.
35. Jos., B. J, IL, xvu. 10 ; Vita, 23.
36. M-att xxiii. 13.
37. Jos., Ant., XX., vii 1, 3 ; Compare XVL, vii 6.
38. Ibid. XX., u. 4
39. Ibid. XX., ii 6, 6 ; iv. 1.
40. Jos., B. J, IL, XX. 2.
41. Seneca, fragment in St Augustin. Be civ. Bd, vi. 11.
42. Jos., Ant^ XX, u.-iv.
43. Tacitus, ^7m.,xii 13, 14 The greater part of the names of thia
famUy are Persian.
44 The name of "Helen" proves this. StiU, it is remarkable thatthe
' Greek does not figure upon the bi-lingual inscription (Syriac and
Svro-Chaldaic) of the tomb of a princess of the famUy, disoo-vered
and brought to Paris by M. de Saulcy. See Journal Asiattgue, Dec.,
1865.
45. Of. Beresohith rabba, xlvi 51 d.

340 ^ THE APOSTLES.
46. It is according to aU appearances the monument known at this day
under the name of " Tomb of the Kings." See Jowr-naX Asiatique,
passage dted.
47. Jos., B. J., ii., xix. 2 ; vi, vi 4
48. Talmud of Jerasalem, Peah, 15 b., where there are put into tho
mouth of one of the Monobaze maxims that exactly recaU the Gospel
(Matt vi. 19 and foUowing). Talmud of Bab., Baba Bathra, 11 a;
Joma, 37 a; Nazir, 19 b; Schabbath,, 68 b; Sifra, 70 a; BereschiOi
rabba, xlvi, foi 51 d.
49. Moses of Khorene, ii 35 ; Orose, Vii 6.
60. Luke,.xxi 21.
51. Ta TTorpm iBii, an expression so familiar with Josephus, when he
defends the position of the Jews in the pagan world.

CHAPTER XV.
1. It is weU kno-wn that no MS. of the Talmud is extant to control the
printed editions.
2. Jos., Ani., XX, V. 2.
3. Jos., B. J., IL, xvu. 8-10 ; Vila, 6.
4 The comparison of Christianity with the two movements of Jndus
and Theudas is made by tho author of the Ads himself. (V. 36.)
5. Jos. Ani., XX, v. 1 ; Ads, a. s. Remark the anachronism in Acts.
6. Jos. Ant, XVIIL, iv. 1, 2.
1. Jos. Ant, XX, V. 3, 4; B. J!, ii, xii 1, 2 ; Tadt, Ann., xu. 54
8. Jos. Ant, XX, vni. 5.
9. Jos. Ant., XX., -vui 5 ; B. J, IL, xiii 3.
10. Jos. B., J., .VII. viii 1 ; Mischna, Sanhedrin, ix. 6.
11. Jos. Ant., XX., vui 6, 10 ; B. Ji, LL, xui 4
12. Jos. Ant., XX, vui 6 ; B. J., IL, xiii. 5 ; Acts xxi 38.
13. Jos. Ant., XX, viu. 6 ; B. J, II., xui 6.
14 See ante, p. 153, note.
15. Justin, Apoi, 1, 26, 66. It is sin^Iar that Josephus, so weU in
formed on Samaritan affairs, does not mention him.
"16. Ads viii 9, etc.
17. It cannot be considered entirely apocryj^al in view of the agreement
between the system set forth in it, and what little we leam from the
Ads conceming the doctrine of Simon upon miraculous powers.
18. HomU. Pseudo-Clem., u. 22, 24
19. Justin, Apol 1, 26, 56; ii 15. Dial. cumTryphone, 120; Iren. Adv.
haer. I. xxiii 2-5 ; xxvii 4 ; II. prsef ; UL praef; HomtUse paeudo-dem.
i 15 ; u. 22, 26, etc. ; Recogn. i 72 ; ii 7, eta ; iu. 47 ; PhUosophu-
mena IV. vii ; VI. i ; X iv. ; Epiph. Adv. hcer. hser. xxi ; Orig. Cmi

THE APOSTLES. " 341
Gets. V. 62; -vi. 11; TertuU. Be Anima, 34; Gonstit apost -vi. 16; S.
Jerome, In Matt xxiv. 5 ; Theod. Hceret. fab. i. 1. It ia from the
quotations given iu the Pli-Uosophumena, and not in the travesties of
the Fathers, that au idea may be obtained of "The Great Exposi
tion."
20. Philosophum., IV. vu. ; VL i 9, 12, 13, 17, 18. Compare Revei i 4,
8; iv. 8; xi. 17.
21. Philosophum., VI. i 17.
22. Ibid. VL i 16.
23. Act viii 10 ; Philosophum., VI. i. 18 ; HomU. Pseudo-Clem., u. 22.
24. AUusion to the adventure of the poet Stesiohorus.
25. Iren. Adv. hser. I. xxiu. 2-4; Honul. Pseudo-Clem., ii. 23.
26. PhUospphum. VI. i 16.
27. See 'Pie de Jesus, p. 247-249.
28. Ibid. p. 247, note 4.
29. Cliron. Samarit u. 10 (edit JuynboU Leyden, 1848). Cf. Reland, Be
Sam. % 7 ; Bissertat miscell Part II. Gjesenius, Comment de Sam.
Theol (HaUe, 1824), p. 24, etc.
30. In a quotation given iu the PhUosophumena, VI. i. 16, ia a citation
from the synoptical gospels which seems to be given as from the
text of the " Great Exposition." But this may bo an error.
31. HomU. Pseudo-Clem. II. 23-24.
32. Iren. Adv. hcer. L xxiu. 3. Philosophum. VI. i 19.
33. Homii Pseudo-Clem. u. 22. Recogn. II. 14
34 Iren. Adv. haar. II. praef. III. praef.
35. Set) the Epistle (probably authentic) of Paul to the Colossians, i
16, &c.
36. Epiph. Adv. hssr. L. xxx. 1.
37. An argument for the latter hypothesis is, that Simon's sect soon
changed into a school of fortune-teUers, and for the manufacture of
phUters and diarms. Philosoph. VI. i 20. TertuU. De Anima, 57.
38. Philosophum. VL i 20. Cf Orig. Gontra Gels, i 57; vi. 11.
39. Hegesip. in Euseb. Hist Eed. iv. 22 ; Clem. Alex. Strom, -rii. 17 ;
Gonstit apost vi. 8, 16; xviu. 1, &c Justm, Apoi i 26, 56; Iren.
Adv. haer. I. xxiu. init. Theod. Haer. foi I. i 2. TertuU. De Proescr.
47 ; De Anima, 50.
40. The most celebrated is that of Dositheus.
41. Ad. viii. 9 ; Iron. Adv. hcer. xxiii. 1.
42. Philosophum. VI. i 19-20. The author attributes these perverse
doctrines only to Simon's disdples ; but if the disciples entertained
them the master must have shared them in some degree.
43. "We shaU hereafter see what these narrations signify.
44. The inscription SmONi Deo Sanoto, stated by Justin to exist in the
island {Apol I. 26) of the Tiber, and mentioned also by other Fa-

342 THE APOSTLES.
thers, was a Latin inscription to the Sabine deity Semo Saucus,
Semoni-Deo-Sanco. There was in fact discovered under Gregory
xm. in the island of St. Bartholomew, an inscription now in the
Vatican bearing that dedication. V. Baronius, Ann. Eccl. 44 ; OreUi,
Inser. Lat. No. 1860. There was at this spot on the island of the
Tiber a coUege of iideniales in honor of Semo-Sanous, with many
inscriptions of the same kind. OreUi, No. 1861. (Mommsen, Inscr.
Lat. regni Neapoi No. 6770). Comp. OreUi, No. 1859. Heuzen, No.
6999 ; MabiUon, Museum Ital I. 1st part, p. 84. OreUi, No. 1862, ia
not to be reUed on. (See Corp. Inscr. Lat. I. No. 542.)
45. This gross blunder could not have been detected without the dis
covery of the PhUosophumena, which alone contains extracts from the
Apophasis mo/gna (VL i 19). Tyre was celebrated for its co-jrtezans.
46. 'E;cfl()os avBpu-iTos, dvTiitciiicios. See Homii Pseudo-Clem. hom. xvii
passim.
47.-Thus in the Pseudo-Clementine Uteratule, the name of Simon the
Magician indicates sometimes the apostle Paul, against whom the
-writer had a spite.
48. It may be observed that in Acts, he is not treated as an enemy, but
only reproached as of low sentiments, and room is left for repentance.
(viu, 24).) Perhaps Simon was Uving when those lines were written,
and his relations to Christianity had not yet become absolutely
hostUe.

CHAPTEE XVL
1. Acts xii 1, 26. Eomark the context.
2. 1 Peter v. 13 ; Papias in Euseb. Hist. Ace. iii 39.
3. Acts xiii 2.
4 Gal. i 15, 16-; Act? xvii 15, 21; xxvi 17-18; 1 Cor. i 1 ; Eom. i,
1, 5; XV. 15, etc.
6. Acts xiii 5.
6. The author of Acts, being a partisan of the hierarchy and of diureh-
domination, has perhaps inserted 4his circumstance. Paul knew
nothing of any such ordination or consecration. He received his
commission from Christ, and did not consider himself any more
especiaUy the envoy of the church of Aatiochthaa of that of Jeru-
salom.
7. Acts ±iu. 3 ; xiv. 25.
8. In I. Peter v. 13, Babylon means Eome.
9. Cic. Pro Archia, 10.
10. Jos., B. J., n. XX. 2 ; VIL ui 3.
11. Acts xviu. 24, &c.
12. See PhUo. Be Vita Contempl passim.

THE APOSTLES. 343
13. Pseudo-Hermes. AscZepiiis, foi 158, V. 159 r. (Florence Juntos, 15, 12.)
14 Cia Pro Flacco, 28; Phflo. In Flacaum, % 7; Leg. ad Caium, § 36;
Acts ii 5-11 ; vi 9; Corp. Inscr. Gr. No. 5361.
15. Lex. Wisigoth; Ub. xii, tit ii and iii. in Walter. Corp. jur. German.
-intiq. L. L p. 630, &o.
16. See Vie de Jesus, p. 137.
17. Phflo. In Flacc., § 5 and 6 ; Jos. Ant XVIII. viii 1 ; XTY v. 2, B.
J. IL xviii 7, eta ; VIL x. 1. Papyrus printed in Notices d Extraits
XVIIL, 2d part, p. 383, eta
18. Dion Cass., XXX Vii. 17 ; LX 6. PhUo. Leg. ad Caium, § 23. Jos.
AnL XIV. X. 8 ; XVU. xi 1 ; XVIIL ni 5 ; Hor. Sat L iv. 142-
143; V. 100; ix. 69, &a; Pers. 5, 179-184; Suet Lib. 36; Claud.
25; Bomit. 12; Juv. ui 14; -vi 542, &c.
19. Pro. Flac. 28.
20. Jos. Ant. XIV. x. ; Suet. JuL 84
21. Suet Lib. 36; Tac. Ann. u. 85; Jos. Ant. JLViU. iii 4, 5.
22. Dion Cass. LX 6.
24 Jos. B. J., VIL iu. 3.
25. Seneca, fragment in Aug. Be Civ. Dei, vi 11 ; EutiUus Numatianus
i 395, &o. ; Jos. Contr. Apion, ii 39 ; Juv. Sat. vi 544; xiv. 96, &e.
26. PhUo. In Flacc. § 5 ; Taa Hist v. 4, 5, 8 ; Dion. Cass. xUx. 22 ;
Juv. xiv. 103 ; Diod. Sic. fragm. 1 of Ub. xxxiv. and iii of Ub. xi ;
Phflostr. Vit. Apol v. 33 ; L Thess. ii 15.
27. Jos. Ant XIV. x. ; XVL vi ; XX -vui 7 ; PhUo. In Flacc. aud Le
gatio ad Caium.
28. Jos. Ant. XVIIL iii 4, 3 Juv. vi 543, &a
29. Jos. Gontr. Apion, passim; passages above cited from Tacitus and
Diodorus Siculus ; Trog. Pomp. (Justin) xxxvi 411 ; Ptolem. He-
phestion or Chennus, tn Script Poet. Hist Graeci of "Westermann,
p. 194 Cf. QuintUian, EO. vii 2.
30. Cia Pro Flacco, 28; Taa Hist v. 5; Juv. xiv. 103-104; Diodoras
Siculus and Phflostratus, u. s. ; EutiUus Numatianus i 383, &c.
31. Martial, iv. 4; Amm. Marc. xxu. 5.
32 Suet Aug. 76; Horace Sat L tx. 69, &a; Juv. ui 13-16, 296; vi
156-160, 542-547; xiv. 96-107; Martial Epigr. iv. 4; vii 29, 34,
54- xi 95- xii. 57 ; EutiUus Numat L o. Jos. Gontra Apion, ii 13;
Philo. Leg.' ad Caium. § 26-28.
33. Martial, Epigr. xu. 57.
34 Juvenal, Sat iii 14; vi 542. j
35. Juvenal, Sat iii 296 ; vi 543, &a ; Martial, Epigr. i 42 ; xu. 57.
" 36. Martial, Epigr. i 42 ; xii 57 ; Statins SUves, L vi 7S-74, and Forcel
lini on wor J sutphm-atu-m.
37. Horace, Sat L v. 100 ; Juvenal, Sat vi 644, &o., xiv. 96, &o; ApuL
Florida, i 6.

344 THE APOSTLES.
38. Dion Casa. Ixviu. 32.
39. Tac. Hiat v. 5, 9 ; Dion Cass. Ixvii. 14
40. Hor. Sat I. ix. 70 ; Judoeus ApeUa, appears to he a joke of the
same kind (see the schoUasts Acron and Porphyrion upon Hor.
Sat I. V. 100) ; compare the passage from S. Anitus, Poemala, v. 364,
cited by ForceUini on the word ApeUa, but which I do not find either
in the editions of this Father or in the ancient Latin manuscript,
Bibl. Imp. No. 11320, as given by the leamed lexicographer; Juv.
Sat xiv. 99, &a ; Martial Epigr. vu. 29, 34, 64; xi 96.
41. Jos. Contr. Apion ii 39 ; Tac. Ann. U. 85, Hist. v. 5 ; Hor. Sat. L iv.
142, 143 ; Juv. xiv. 96, &c ; Dion Cass. xxxvU. 17 ; Ixvii 14
42. Martial, Epigr. i 42 ; xu. 57.
43. Juv. Sat vi 546, &a
44. Jos. Antxwm. iu. 5 ; xx. 11, 4; B. J. IT. xx. 2; Act xiii 50; xvi 14
45. Loc. dt.
46. Jos. Ant, XX. 11, 5 ; iv. 1.
47. Passages already cited. Strabo shows much greater justice and pene
tration (xri. 11, 34, &c.) Comp. Dion. Cass, xxxvii. 17, &c.
48. Tac. Hist v. 6.
49. Jos. Contr. Apion u. 39.
50. Martial, xii. 57.
51. Jos.. Ani. xiv. x. 6, 11, 14
52. Boci X. 25, 27.
63. Eom. i. 24, &a
54. Zach. viu. 23.
65. Hor. Sat L ix. 69 ; Pera. v. 179, ka. Juv. Sat vi. 169 ; xiv. 96, &o.
66. Contr. Apion u. 39.
67. Pera. v. 179-184 ; Juv. -ri. 157-160. The remarkable preoccupation
about Judaism which may be observed in the Eoman -writers of the
first century, espedaUy the satirists, arises from this dreumstance.
58. Juv. Sat ui 62, &a .
50. Cic. Be Prov. consul, 5.
60. The chUdren whose appearance had most pleased me on my first
-risit, I found four years later, ugly, -vulgar, and stupid.
61. TlaTpwis Scots a very frequent formula in the inscriptions of the Sy
rians (Corp. Inscr. Gr.-ea Nos. 4449, 4450, 4451, 4463, 4479, 4480,
6015.
62. Corp. Inscr. Graec. Nos. 4474, 4475, 5936 ; Mission de Phenide, I. ii a
u. (in press), inscription of Abeda. Comp. Corpus, Nos. 227 1, 5853.
63. ^avs o-iipavui^, iii:ovpdvtos,vif^iaros, pt-yii7Tos, Bsds oaTpaTrtis, OorpUSlnSCr. Gr, ¦
Nos. 4500, 4501, 4502, 4503, 6012 ; Lepsius, Denkmsder, t xu. foi
100. No. 590. Mission de Phenicie, p. 103, 104 •
64. I have developed this in the Journal Asiatique for February 1859, p.
259, &o., and iu Mission de Phenicie, 1. II. c. ii

THE APOSTLES. 345
65. Syrian code in Land, Anecdota Syriaca, i p. 152, and different facts
whioh I have vrituessed.
66. Bom in Haran.
67. See Forcellini, word Syrus. This word designates Orientals generaUy.
Leblant, Inscript Chret de la Gaifle, i p. 207, 328, 329.
68. Juvenal, ui 62-63.
69. Such is at this day the temperament of the Syrian Christian.
70. Inscriptions in Mem. de la Soc. des Antiquaires de Fr. t xxviii 4, &c.
Leblant, Inscript Chrfit. de la Gaule, i p. cxUv. 207, 324, &c. 353, &a
u. 259, 459, &o.
71. The Maronites colonize stUl in nearly all the Levant Uke the Jews,
Armenians, and Greeks, though on a smaUer scale.
72. Cia De Offic. i 42 ; Dion. Hal. ii. 28 ; ix. 28.
73. See the characters of slaves in Plautus and Terence.
74. II. Cor. xu. 9.
75. Tadt. Ann. ii 85.

CHAPTEE XVIL
1. Tadt An-n. 1. 2 ; Floras, iv. 3 ; Pomponlus in the Digest, 1 ; I. Tit
ii, fr. 2.
3. Helicon. ApeUes, Buceres, etc. The Oriental kings were considered
by the Eomans to surpass in tyranny the worst of the emperors.
Dion. Cassius lix. 24.
8. See inscription of the Parasite of Antony in the Gomptes Rendus de
VAcad. des Inscr. et B. L., 1864, p. 166, eta Comp. Tacit Ann. iv.
55, 56.
4. See for example the funeral oration on Turia by her husband, Q. Lu
cretius Vespillo, of whioh the complete epigraphic text was first pub
lished by Mommsen in Memoires de VAcademie de Berlin, 1863,
p. 455, &o. Compare funeral oration on Murdia (OreUi, Inscr. Lat.
No. 4860), and on Matilda by the emperor Adrian {Mem. de VAcad.
de Berlin,' XX. s. 483, &o.). "We are too much preoccupied by passages
of the Latin satirists in whioh .the vices of women are sharply ex
posed It is as if we were to design a general tableau of the morals
of the" seventeenth century from Mathurin, Regnier, and BoUeau.
6 OreUi Nos. 2647, &a, especially 2677, 2742, 4530, 4860; Henzen,
Nos 7382 &o., especiaUy No. 7406; Eenier, Inscr. de I'Algerie, No.
19si. They may have been false epithets, but they prove at least
the estimation of virtue.
6 Plin. Epist vii 19; ix. 13; Appian, BeU. Civ. iv. 36. Fannia twice
' followed to exile her husband, Helvidius Priscus, and waa banished
a third time after his death.
7 The heroism of -ii-ria is well known., 15*

346 THE APOSTLES.
8. Suet Aug. 73 ; Fun. Orat. on Turia, i, line 30
9. Ib. 31.
10. Tlie too severe opinion of Paul (Eom. i 24, &a) is explicable in tho
sarae way. Paul was not acquainted witli the higher social life of
Eome. Besides, these derical invectives are not to be taken lite
rally.
11. Sen. Ep. xii, xxiv., xxvi, Ivui, Ixx. ; Delia, iii 15. De Tranq.
aoim. 10.
12. Apoa xvii; Cf Sen. Ep. xcv. 16, &c.
13. Suet Aug. 48.
14. The inscriptions contain countless examples.
15. Pint Graec. Ger. Eeipubl. xv. 3-4; An seni &t ger. resp., passim.
16. Jos. Ant xiv., X. 22, 23 ; Comp. Tadt Ann. iv. 55, 66. EutiUus
Numatianus, Itin. i 63, &c.
, 17. " Immensa roraante pacis majestas.'' PUn. Hist Nat xxvu. 1.
18. JElius Arist. Ehge de if ojTie, passim ; Plut F»-tune des Remains;
Philo. Leg. ad Caium, § 31, 22, 39, 40.
19. Dion. Hal. Antiq. Eom. i., comm.
20. Plut Solon. 20.
21. See Athen. xii. 68; .^Uan, Var. Hist. ix. 12 ; Suidas, word Eiri;(ovpijf.
22. Tacit Ann. i 2. *
23. Study the character of Euthyphron in Plato.
24. Diog. Laert ii 101, 116; v. 5, 6, 37, 38; tx. 52; Athen. xiii 92;
XV. 52 ; jElian, Var. Hist ii. 23 ; iii. 36 ; Plut Pericles, 32 ; De
Plac. Philos. I., vii 2 ; Diod. Sia XIIL, vi 7 ; Aristoph. iu Aves,
1073.
25. Particularly under Vespasian,, as in the case of Helvidius Prisons.
26. We shall show later that these persecutions, at least uulU that of
Decius, have been mueh exaggerated.
27. The early Christians were in fact very respectful towards Eoman
authority. Eora. xiii. i;, &c. ; I. Peter iv. 1-1, 16. As to St Luke,
see the Introduction to this work.
28. Diog. Laert vii. 1, 32, 33; Euseb. Prepar. Evang. xv. 15, and in
general the De Legib-us and De Officiis of Cicero.
39. Terence, Heautont I. i. 77, Cia De Finibus Bon. et Mai, v. 33 ; Partit
Orat, 16, 24: Ovid, Pasti, ii. 684; Lucian vi 54, &a; Sen., Epist.
xlviu, xcv. 51, &c.; De Ira, i 6; ui 48; Arrian. Dissert Epict I.
ix. 6; ii v. 26; Plut Eoman. 2; Alexander, i 8, 9.
30. Virg. Eclog. iv.; Sen. Medea, 375, &a
31. Taa Ann. ii. 85 ; Suet Tib. 35 ; Ovid. Fast. u. 497-514.
32. The inscriptions for woraen contain the most touching expressions.
" Mater omnium hominum, parens omnibus subveniens," in Reuier,
Inscr. de I'Algerie, No. 1987, Corap. ibid. No. 2756; Mommsen, Inscr.
R. N., No. 1431. " Duobua virtutis et oastitatis exemplis." Not ei

THE APOSTLES. 347
Mem. de la Soo. de Constantine. 1865, p. 158. See inscription of
UrbaniUa in Guerin, Voy. Aroheol. iu 'Tunis, i 289, and a beautiful
one, OreUi No. 4648. Some of these texts are subsequent to the first
century ; but the sentiments thoy express were not new when they
were written.
38. Table-Talk I., v. 1 ; Demosth. 2; the Dialogue on Love, 2 ; and Con-
sol, ad Uxorem.
34 "Caritas generis humani." Cic. -De Finibus,-^. 23. "Homo sacra res
homini," Sen. Epist xcv. '33.
35. Sen. Epist xxxi, xlvu. ; De Benef, ui 18, &o.
86. Tac. Ann. xiv. 42, &a ; Suet Claud. 25; Dion Cass. Ix. 29 ; Plin. Bp.
viii. 16; Inscr. Lanuv. col. 2 lines, 1-4 (Mommsen De Coll. et Sodal
Rom., ad calcem); Sen. Rhet. Controv. iii. 21; vu. 6; Sen. PhU.
Epist. xlvii ; De Benef. in., 18, &c., Columella, ' De re -rustica, i 8;
Pint the Elder, 5 ; De Ira, 11.
37. Epist xlvii, 13.
38. Cato. De re rustica, 68, 69, 104 ; Plut. Cato, 4, 6. Compare the severe
maxims of Ecclesiasticus xxxiu. 35, &c.
89. Tac. Ann. xiv. 60; Dion Cass, xlvii 10; Ix. 16; Ixii 13; Ixvi 14.
Suet Caius, 16; Appia, BeU. Civ. iv., from ch. xvii (especially ch.
xxxvi &a), to oh. li Juv. vi. 476, Sco., describes tho manners of the
worst 'class. \
40. Hor. Sat i vi. 1, &c. ; Cic. Epist. iii 7 ; Sen. Rhet Controv. i. 6.
41. Suet Caius, 15, 16; Claud. 19, 23, 25; Nero, 16; Dion Cass. Ix.
25-29.
42. Taa Ann. vi 17 ; corap. iv. 6.
43. Tac. Ann. xiii. 50, 51 ; Suet Nero, 10.
44. Epitaph of the jeweller, Bvhodus (hominis boni, miserioordis, amatis
pauperis). Corp. Inscr. Lat No. 1027, and inscription ofthe age of
Augustus (Cf Eggor, Mem. d' Histoire et de Phil, p. 351, &o.); Perrot,
Exploration de la Galalie, &o., p. 118, 119, rrwyoiit ipi^invra; Funeral
Oration of Matilda by Adrian {Mem. de I'Acad. de Berlin for 1863,
p. 489) ; Mommsen. Inscr Eogni Neap. Nos. 143 1 , 2868, 4880 ; Seneca
Rhet, Controv I. i. ; iii 19 ; iv. 27, viii 6; Sen. Phil. De Elem. n. 5, 6.
De Benef. i 1; ii 11; iv. 14; vii 81. Compare Leblant Inscr. Chret
de la Gaule, ii. p. 23, &o ; OreUi, No. 4657, Fea Framm de Frasti
Gonsol p. 90 ; R. Garrucci, Cimitera degli ant. Ebrei, p. 44.
45. Corp. Inscr. GriBO , No. 3758.
46. Ibid. Nos. 2194 b. 2511, 2759 b.
47 It must be borne in raind that Corinth in the Roman epoch was a
colony of foreigners, formed upon the site of the ancient city by Caesar
and Augustus.
48. Lucian, Demonax, 87.
49. Dion Cassius, Ixvi 15.
60. Soe .iEUus Aristides, Treatise against Comedy, 751, &o., ed. Dindorf.
51 It is worthy of note that in several cities of Asia Minor the remains

348 THE APOSTLES.
of the ancient theatres are at this day haunts of debauchery. Comp.
Ov. Amor, i 89, &a
62. Orelli-Henzen Nos. 1172, 3362, &a, 6669; Guerin, Voy. en Tunisie,
11, p. 59; Borghesi, (Euvres Completes, iv. p. 269, &c; B. Desjardina.
Be iabulis alimentariis (Paris 1854); Aurelius Victor. Epitome,
Nerva ; Plin. Epist i. 8 ; vii 18.
53. Inscriptions in Desjardinis, op. cit pars u. oap. 1.
54. Suet Aug. 41, 46; Dion Cass, li 21 ; Iviii. 2.
55. Taa Ann. ii 87; vi. 13; xv. Suet Aug. 41, 42; Claud. 18. Comp.
Dion Cass. Ixii 18 ; OreUi, No. 3358 &c. ; Henzen, 6662, &a ; ForceUini,
article Tessera frumeniaria.
66. Ody^s. vi. 307.
57. Eurip. Suppl v. 773, &.c. ; Aristotle Rhetor, n. v. iii and Nicomachua
viii 1 ; IX. x. See Stobeus FlorUegus xxxvii cxiii and in general
the fragments of Menander, and the Greek comedians.
68. Aristotle Polit. VL iii. 4 5.
59. Cia Tusa iv, 7-8 ; Sen. De Clem. u. 5. 6.
60. Papyrus at the Louvre, No. 37, col. 1. Une 21. Notices et Extraita
xviii 2d part, p. 298.
61. V. ante.
62. Apoc. xvu. &c.
63. Virg. Ea iv. Georg. i 463, &a ; Horace Od. L u ; Tac. Ann. vi. 12 ;
Suet Aug. 31.
64. See for example De Republ. ui 22, cited and preserved by Lactantius
Instit. div. vi. 8.
65. See the admirable letter, xxxi to Lucilius.
66. Suet Vesp. 18; Dion Cass, t vi p. 558 (edit. Sturz); B-aseb. Chroa
A.D. 89. Plin. Epist i 8 ; Henzen, Suppl. to OreUi, p. 124, No. 1172.
67. Funeral Oration of Turia, i lines 30-31.
68. See first book of Valerius Maximus; JuUus Obsequens on Prodigies;
and Biscours Sacres of jEliua Aristides.
69. Augustus (Suet Aug. 90-92) and even Cassar, it is said, (but I doubt,)
(Plin. Hist Nat xxviii iv. 7) did not escape it i
70. Manilius, Hygin. translations from Aratua
71. Cia Pro Archia, 10.
72. Suet Claud 25.
73. Jos. Ant XIX. v. 3
74. Bereschiih rabba ch. Ixv. foi 65b ; Du Cange, word matricularius.
75. Cic. Be Legibus, ii. 8 ; Vopisous. AureUan, 19.
76. Religio sine superstitione, Orat fun. Turia i luiea 30-31. See Plu. ,
do Superstit
77. See Melito, Hepi d^riSdas, in Spicilegium Syriacum of Cureto, p. 43, or
Spicil. Solesmense of dom Pitra, t u. p. xli, to get a good idea of
the impression made by it upon tho Jews and Christians.

THE APOSTLES. 349
78. Suet Aug. 62 ; Dion Cass, li 20 ; Tac. Ann. i 10 ; Aurei Victor.
Ceas, i Appian. BeU. Civ. v. 132 ; Jos. B. J., L xxi. 2, 3, 4, 7.
Noris, Oenotaphia Pisano, dissert i cap. 4 ; Kalendarium Gamanum,
in Corpus Inscr. Lat. i p. 810 ; Bokhoi Doctrina Num. Vet pars 2d.
voi vi p. 100 124, &c.
¦79.' Taa Ann. iv. 55-56. Comp. Valer. Maxim, proi
80. Ante, p. 193, &a
81. Corinth, the only Grecian town which was Considerably Christianized
during the first century, was no longer at this period a HeUenic city.
:82. Heracl. Corn. Comp. Cia De Nat. Deorum, iii. 23, 25, 60, 62, 64.
83. Plut Consol. ad ux. 10; Be sera numinis vindicta, 22; Heuzey.
Mission de Macedoine, p. 128. Revue Archeologique, April, 1864, p. 282.
84 Lucret, i 63, &c. ; Sallust Catii 62 ; Cia De Nat Deorum. ii 24, 28,
Be Bivi-nat ii 33. 35, 57 ; Be Haruspicorum Responsis, passim ; Tuscui
i 16; Juvenal, Sat u, 149, 152; Sen. Epist xxiv. 17.
85. Sua cuique civitati religio est, nostra nobis. Cia Pro Flacco, 28.
86. Cia Be Nat Beorum, i SO. 42; -De Divinat ii. 12, S3, 35, 72. Be
Harusp. Resp. 6. etc.; Liv. i. 19, Quint. Curt. iv. 10. *Plut Deplac
phil I. vii 2; Diod. Sia I. ii 2. Varro. in Aug. De civil Dei, iv. 31.
33 ; vi 6. Dion. Halic. u. 20. viu. 5. Valer. Maxim. I. ii
87. Cic. De Divinat. u. 15 ; Juvenal, u. 149, &a
88. Tac. Ann. xi. 15. PUn. Epist x. 97. sub fin. Serapin in Plut De
Pythice Oraculis. Comp. Be FI apud Belphos, imt. See also Valer.
Maxim I., passim.
89. Juv. Sat. vi 489, 527, &o. Tac. Ann. xi. 15. Comp. Lucian Gonv.
Beorum; TertuU. Apolog. 6.
90. Jos. Ant. xvui iii 4 ; Tac. Ann. u. 85 ; Le Bas, Inscr. part v. No. 395.
91". Plut De Pyth. oraa 26.
92. See Lucian, Alexander seu pseudomantis and Be morte Peregrini.
93. Sen. Epist xii xxiv. Ixv. Inscr. Lanuv. 2d coi lines 6-6; OreUi,
4404
94. Dion Cass. Ixvi. 13; Ixvii 13; Suet Domit 10. Tslo. Agricola. 2.45;
Plin. JS^ist III. u; PhUostr. Vit ApoUon. L vu. passim. Euseb.
Ohron. a.d. 90.
95. Dion Cass. ixU. 29.
96. Arrian, Dissert de Epiotet I. ii 21.
97. Ibid. L xxv. 22,

CHAPTER xvin,
1 Val Max,, L in ; Liv, XXXIX. 8-18 ; Cia, Be Legibus, II. 8 ; Dion
Haiia, H. 20; Dion Cass., XL. 47; XLIL 36; TertuU., Apol 6;
Adv. nationes, I. 10.

350 THE APOSTLES.
a. Propert., IV. i 17; Ludan. VHL 831; Dion Cass., XLVIL 15;
Arnob ii 73.
3. Vai Maxim. I. in. 3.
4 Dion Cass. XLVIL 16
5. Jos., XLV. X. Comp. Cia, Pro Flacco, 28.
6. Suet., Aug., 31, 93 ; Dion Cass., Ui 36.
7. Suet, Aug., 93. ,
8. Dion Cass., LVL 6.
9. Jos. Ant. XVI. vi
10. Ibid. XVL ri. 2.
11. Dion Casa., LFL 36.
12. Jos., B. J., V. xiii 6. Comp. Suet, Aug., 93.
13. Suet., Tib., 36 ; Taa, Ann., ii, 85 ; Jos., Ant. XVII , ui, 4, 5 ; Phila,
In Flaeoum, § 4 ; Leg. ad Caium, § 24 ; Sen. Epist cvui 23. The
assertion of TertuUian (Apol. 5), repeated by other ecclesiastical
writers, that Tiberius had formed the intention of placing Jesus Christ
on the list of gods, is not worth discussion.
14. Dion Cass., Ix. 6.
15. Tacit Ann., xi. 15.
16. Dion Cass., Ix. 6; Suet, Claud. 25; Acts xriii 2.
17. Dion Cass., Ix. 6.
18. Jos. Ant, XIX. V. 2; XX. vi 3; B. J. H. xii 7.
19. Suet Nero 56.
20. Tae. Ann. xv. 44 ; Suet Nero. 16. _ This wUl be developed hereafter.
21. Taa Ann. xiu. 32.
22. Comp. Dion Cass. Domit sub fin; Suet Domit 15. This distinction
is formaUy inade in the digest, I. xlvii, tit. xxii, de Coli et Corp. i S.
23. Cia Pro Flacco, 28.
24. This distinction is indicated in the Acts xvi 20, 21 ; Cf xviii 13.
26. Cia Pro Flacco, 28; Juv. xiv. 100 &a; Taa Hist v., 4, 5; Plin.
Epist X, 97 ; Dion Cass. L. ii 36.
26. Jos. B. J. vn. V. 2.
27. .^Uus Arist Pro Serapide, 53. Jul. Orat iv., p. 136, of Spanheim'a
Ed., and the sculptures copied by Leblant in the Buli de la Soa dea
Ant de Fr., 1859, p. 191-193.
28. Taa Ann. ii 85; Suet Tib. 37; Jos. Ant XVin. iii 4-5; letter of
Adrian in Vopisc. Vil. Saturn, 8.
29. Dion Casa. xxxvu. 17.
30. See the inscriptions collected in the Rev. Archeol. Nov. 1864, 391,
&a ; Dea, 1864, p. 460, &a ; June, 1865, p. 451^52, and p. 497,
&a.; Sept, 1865, p. 314, &c.; Apr., 1866; Ross. Inscr. Graec. ined.
fasa, ii, No. 282, 391, 292 ; Hamilton, Researches in Asia Minor,
Voi ii, Na 301. Corp. Inscr. Grsea Nos. 120, 126, 2526 b. 2562;

THE APOSTLES. 351
Ehangabe Antiq. Hellen. Na 811. Henzen, Na 6082 ; Virg. Ed. v.,
30. Comp. Harpocration Lex. art Ipavis-riis. Festus art. Thiastas:
Digest XLVIL, xxii, de CoU. et Corp. 4; Plin. Epist x, 93, 94
31. Aristot Mor. Nicom. VIIL, ix., 5. Plut Quest Grajo. 44.
32. /Wescher, Archives des raissions scientif 3d series, v., i, p. 432, and
Eev. Arch., Sept, 1865, p. 221, 232. Cf. Aristot. (Ecouom. u. 3.
Strab. ix., i, 15. Corp. inser. gr., No. 2271, Unes 13-14
33. KAi;pai7-ot.
34 K\itpos. The ecclesiastical etyraology of kXUpos is different, and im
plies an allusi(5n to the position of the tribe of Levi in Israei But it
is not impossible that the word was primarily derived .'rom the Greek
confraternities (cf Act i 35, 26 ; I. Petri, v. 3. Clera. Alex, in
Euseb. H. E. iii. 23). M. "Wescher finds among the dignitaries of
these societies an sniTKovos (Eevue Arch., April, 1866). See ante, p.
86. The assembly was also called owa-yayn (Revue Arch, Sept, 1865,
p. 216; Pollux IV. viii, 143).
35. Corp. inscr. Gr. No. 126. Comp. Eev. Arch. Sept 1865, p. 216.
36. "Wesdher in Eevue Archeoi Dea 1864, p. 460, &c.
37. See ante, p. 338, note 2.
38. The Greek confraternities were not entirely exempt. Inscr. in Re
vue Archeoi, Dea 1864, p. 462, &a
39. Digest XLVIL xxii de CoU. et Corp. 4
40. Liv. XXIX 10, &a OreU. and Heuzen, Inscr. Lat a v. § 21.
41. Dion. Cass. Ui. 36 ; tx. 6.
42. Liv. XXXIX. 8-18. Comp. decree in Corp. Inscr. Lat I. p. 43-44
Cf. Cia De Legibus u. 8.
43. Cic. Pro Sext 25 ; In Pis. 4; Asoonius, in Comelianam 75 (edit
OreUi); In Pison. p. 7-8; Dion. Cass. XXXVIIL 13, 14; Digest
III. iv. Quod cujusc. 1 ; XLVII. xxu. de CoU. et Corp. passim.
44. Suet Domit 1; Dion. Cass. XLVIL 15; LX. g, LXVL 24; passages
of TertuUian and Arnobius before cited.
45. Suet Cass. 42; Aug. 32; Jos. Ant XVL x. 8; Dion. Cass. LIL 36.
46. " Kaput ex. S. C. P. X Quibus coire, convenire, eoUegiumque habere
lioeat Qui stipem menstruam couferre volent in funera, u. in ooUe-
gium cocant, neque sub specie ejus eoUeginisi semel in mense vo
cant conferendi causa undo defuncti sepeliantur." Inscr. Lanuv.
1st col. Unes 10-13 in Mommsen, De ooUegus et sodaUtiis Roma
norum (Kiliae, 1843), p. 81-82 and ad calcem. Cf Digest XLVIL
xxii de CoU. et Corp. 1 ; TertuU. Apoi 39.
47. Inscr. Lanuv. 2d coi lines 3, 7 ; Digest XLVII. xxii de CoU. et Corp. 3.
48. Digest XLVIL xi de Extr. crim. 2.
49. Ibid. XLVII. xxii de Coli et Corp. 1 and 3.
60. Heuzey, Mission de Macedoine, p. 71, &a; OreUi, Inser. No. 4093.
51. OreUi, 2409; MelohioretP. Visconti, SiUoge d'iscrizioni antiche, p. 6.
52. See article relative to colleges of Esculapius and Hygiens, of Jupiter

352 THE APOSTLES.
Cominns, and of Dian and Antinous, in Mommsen,- op. dt. p. 93,
&a Comp. OreUi, Inscr. Lat Nos. 1710, &a, 2394, 2396, 2413, 407.5,
1079, 4107, 4207, 4938, 5044; Mommsen, op. cit p. 96, 113, 114;
de Eossi, BuUetin di Archeoi Cristiana, 2d year. No. 8.
53. Inscr. Lanuv., 1st coi, lines 6-7 ; OreUi 2270 ; de Eossi, BuUett. di
archeoi crist 2d year, No. 8.
64 Inscr. Lanuv., 2d coi, Unes 11-13; OreUi, 4420.
56. Inaor. Lanuv., 1st coi Unes 3, 9, 21 ; 2d coi lines 7-17 ; Mommsen,
Inscr. regni Neap. 2559; Marhii Atti p. 598; Muratori, 491, 7;
Mommsen. De coU. et sod. p. 109, &c. 113, Com/. L Cor. xi, 20, Sus.
The president of the Christian Churches was caUed by the pagans
Biaoapxis. Luden, Peregrinus, IL
56. Inscr. Lanuv. 2d coi Une 7.
57. Inscr. Lanuv. 2d coi Unes 24-25.
58. Ibid. 2d coi Unes 26-29. Cf. Corpus Inscr. Gr. No. 126.
69, OreUi, Inscr, Lat Nos, 2399, 2400, 2406, 4093, 4103. Monunsen, De
Coll. et Sod ; Eom. p. 97 ; Heuzey u. s. Compare at this day the Uttie
cemeteries of the societies at Eome.
60. Hor, Sat L viii 8,
61, FuTi£ratici-wm.
62. Inscr. Lanuv. 1st coi, lines 24, 25, 32.
63. Ib. 2d coi lines 3, 6.
64 Cia De Offia 1, 17. SchoL Bibb, ad Cia Pro Archia, x 1. Comp.
Plut. De frat amore, 7; Digest XLVIL xxii de CoU. et Corp. 4.
In a Eoman inscription the founder of a sepulchre prorides that
only those of his own faith shaU be buried there, ad religionem per-
tinenies meam (de Eossi, BuU. di Archeoi Crist. 53d year No. 7, p. 64
66. Tertuli Ad Scap. 3 ; de Roaai, op. cit. 3d year. No. 12.
66. St Justin, Apol. 1, 67 ; Tertuli ApoUog. 39.
67. Ulpi Fragm. xxu. 6. Digest III. iv. Quod cujusc. 1 ; XLVI. 1, de
Fid; et Mand. 22, XLVIL u. de Furtis, 31 ; XLVII. xxu. de CoU. et
Corp. ], 3; Grater.322, 3, 4; 424, 12; OreUi, 4080: Marini, Atti
p. 95. Muratori, 516, 1 ; Mem. de la Soc. des Antiq. de Fr. XX p. 78.
68. Dig. XLVII. xxu. de Collet Corp. passim; In.scr. Lanuv. 1st coi
Unes 10-13; Marini Atti P- 552; Muratori, 520, 3; OreUi 4075,
4115, 1567, 2797, 3140, 3913; Heuzen 6633, 6745; Mommsen op,
cit p. 80, etc.
69. Digest XLVIL xi. de Extr. crim. 2.
7g. Ibid. XLVII. xxii do Coli et Corp. 2 ; XLVIIL iv. ad Leg. JuL ma
jest 1.
71. Dion Cass. LX. 6. Comp. Suet Nero 16.
72. See administrative correspondence of PUny and Trajah. PUn. Epist
X. 43, gs, g4, 97, 98.
73. "Permittitur tenuioribus stipem menstruam couferre, dum tamen
semel in mense coeant, ne sub praetextu hujusmodi iUicitura coUegium

THE APOSTLES. 353
coeant (Dig. XLVII. xxii de Coll et Corp. 1)." " Servos quoqne
Uoet in coUegio tenuiorum redpi volentibus dominis {ibid. 3)." Cf
Pliu. Epist X 94 ; Tertuli Apol. 39.
74. Digest L xii de Off; prtef urbi, 1. § 14 (Cf. Mommsen op. oit p. 127);
IILi V. Quod cujusa 1 ; XLVII. xx. de CoU. et Corp. 3. The excel
lent Marcus Aurelius extended as far as possible the right of associa
tion. Dig. XXXIV. V. de Rebus dubiis, 20 ; XL. iii de Manurais-
sionibus, 1 ; XLVII. xxii. de Coll. et Corp. 1.

CHAPTER XIX.
1. See de Rossi, BuU. di Arch. Crist. 3d year, Nos. 3, 6, 6, 12, Eg. Pom-
ponia Grsecina (Tac. Ann. xui 32) under Nero aa already charac
teristic ; but it is not certain that she was a Christian.
2. See do Rossi, Roma Soiteramea I. p. 309 ; and pi xxi. No. 12- and the
epigraphic collations of Leon Reuier, Comptes Rend, de I'Acad. des In
scr. ot B. L. 1865, p. 289, eta, and of Creuly, Eev. Arch. Jau. 1866,
p. 63-64 Corap. de Eossi, BuU. 3d year. No. 10, p. 77-79.
3. I. Cor. i 26, etc. ; Jac. ii. 5, etc.
4. Alps rois liBiiivs. . See relation of martyrdom of Polycarp. § 3, 9, 12.
Euinart Acta sincera, p. 31, etc.
6. Ebionim. See Vie de J4sus. Jac. ii 5, etc. Comp. irTuxoi rO irvivjiaTi,
Matth. V. 3.
6. See anie.
7. Taa Ann. XV. 44, Plin. Epist X. 97; Suet Nero 16; Domit 15;
PhUopatris, passim. Eutil. Numat 1, 389, etc. ; 440, etc.
8. John XV. 17, etc.; xvi. 8, etc., 33; xvu. 16, etc.
9. James i 27.
10. I allude to the essential and primitive tendencies of Christianity, not
to the transformed Christianity now preached, •.especially that of the
Jesuits.
11. See history ofthe origin of Babism by M. de Gobineau, Les Relig. et
les Philos. dans I'Asie Centrale (Paris, 1865), p. 141, etc.; and by
Mirza Kazem-beg in the Jowrnal Asiatique (in press). I rayself have
received information from two individuals at Constantinople, who
were personally raixed in the affairs of Babism, whioh confirms the
narration of tlieso two savants.
12. M. de Gobineau, p. 301, eta
13. Another detail whioh I have frora original sources is as foUows : Sev
eral of the sectaries, to compel them to retract, were tied to tho
mouths of cannon, with a lighted slow-match attached. The offer
was raade to them to cut off the match if they would renounce Bab.
In reply, they only stretched out their hands towards the creeping
spark, and besought it to hasten and consummate their happiness.

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