BOOK I

FROM THE PERSECUTION OF THE CHURCH BY NERO TO CONSTANTINE’S EDICT OF TOLERATION. A.D. 64-313.

CHAPTER III.

THE REIGNS OF THE ANTONINES , A.D. 138-180.

 

The rescripts of the last two emperors had done much protection of the Christians; and their condition was yet further improved during the peaceful reign of the elder Antoninus. Finding that the provincial governors in general refused to punish the profession of the Gospel as in itself criminal, its enemies now had recourse to charges of atheism—an imputation which seems to have originated in the circumstance that the Christians were without the usual externals of worship—temples and altars, images and sacrifices. The custom of ascribing all public calamities to them, and of calling for their blood as an atonement to the offended gods, still continued; and the magistrates of several cities in Greece requested the emperor's directions as to the course which should be taken in consequence. Antoninus wrote in reply, confirming the edict of Hadrian, that the Christians should not be punished, unless for crimes against the state. Another document, however, in which he is represented as instructing the council of Asia to put to death all who should molest the Christians on account of their religion, is now generally regarded as spurious.

The cause of the persecuted body was pleaded by Justin, usually styled the Martyr, in an apology addressed to the emperor, his adopted sons, the senate, and the people of Rome. Justin was a native of Flavia Neapolis, a town of Greek population and language, on the site of the ancient Sychem, in Samaria. He has himself, in his Dialogue with the Jew Trypho, related the progress of his religious opinions : how—induced, as it would seem, rather by a desire to discover some solid foundation of belief than by any speculative turn of minds—he tried in succession the most popular forms of Greek philosophy; how in one after another he was disgusted, either by the defectiveness of the doctrine or by the character of the teacher; how, after having taken up the profession of Platonism, he was walking on the sea-shore in deep meditation, when he was accosted by an old man of mild and reverend appearance, who told him that his studies were unpractical and useless, directed him to the Prophets and the New Testament, and exhorted him to pray “that the gates of light might be opened” to him. The convictions which arose in Justin’s mind from the course of reading thus suggested were strengthened by his observation of the constancy with which Christians endured persecution and death for the sake of their faith —a spectacle by which he had even before been persuaded that the popular charges against their morals must be unfounded. With a fullness of belief such as he had never felt in any of the systems through which he had passed, he embraced the Christian faith, and he devoted himself to the defense and propagation of it. He travelled in Egypt, Asia, and elsewhere, retaining the garb of a philosopher, which invested him with an air of authority, and was serviceable in procuring a hearing for his doctrines; but his usual residence was at Rome, where he established a school of Christian philosophy.

Justin’s First Apology contains a bold remonstrance against the iniquity of persecuting Christians for their religion, while all other parties were allowed to believe and to worship according to their conscience. In this and in the other writings by which he maintained the cause of the Gospel against its various adversaries— heathens, Jews, and heretics—he refutes the usual calumnies, the charges of atheism and immorality, of political disaffection and sedition. He appeals to the evidence of prophecy and miracles, to the purity of the New Testament morality, to the lives of his brethren, their love even for their enemies, their disinterestedness, their firmness in confessing the faith, their patience in suffering for it. No one, he says, had ever believed Socrates in such a manner as to die for his philosophy; but multitudes, even in the lowest ranks, had braved danger and death in the cause of Christ. He dwells on the chief points of Christian doctrine, and elaborately discusses the resurrection of the body, an article which was especially difficult to the apprehension of the heathens. He vindicates the character and the miracles of our Lord; he rebuts the arguments drawn from the novelty of his religion, and from the depressed condition of its professors, which their enemies regarded as a disproof of their pretensions to the favour of the Almighty; he argues from the progress which the Gospel had already made, although unaided by earthly advantages. Nor is he content with defending his own creed; he attacks the corruptions and absurdities of Paganism, not only in its popular and poetical form, but as it appeared in the more refined interpretations of the philosophers; he exposes the foul abominations of heathen morals, and tells his opponents that the crimes which they slanderously imputed to the Christians might more truly be charged on themselves.

Justin often insists on the analogies which are to be found between the doctrines of Plato and those of Holy Scripture. He derives the wisdom of the Greeks from the Jews, through the medium of Egypt, and ascribes the corruptions of it to demons, who, according to him, had worked by such means to raise a prejudice against the reception of Christian doctrine. He held that the good men of antiquity, such as Socrates and Heraclitus, had been guided by a partial illumination of the Divine Logos, and that, because they strove to live by this light, the demons had raised persecutions against them. Justin therefore urges his heathen readers to embrace that wisdom which had been imperfectly vouchsafed to the sages of their religion, but was now offered in fullness to all men. While, however, he thus referred to heathen philosophy by way of illustration, and represented it as a preparation for Christianity, he was careful not to admit it as supplementary to the Gospel or as an element of adulteration.

Although it is a mistake to suppose that the apologies of the early writers were mere exercises, composed without any intention of presenting them to the princes who are addressed, there is no evidence that Justin’s First Apology produced any effect on Antoninus, or contributed to suggest the emperor’s measures in favor of the Christians. The Roman political view of religion was, indeed, not to be disturbed by argument. All that the magistrate had to care for was a conformity to the established rites— a conformity which was considered to be a duty towards the state, but was not supposed to imply any inward conviction. The refusal of compliance by the Christians, therefore, was an unintelligible scruple, which statesmen could only regard, with Pliny, as a criminal obstinacy.

The elder Antoninus was succeeded in 161 by his adopted son Marcus Aurelius. Under this emperor—celebrated as he is for benevolence, justice, intelligence, and philosophic culture—the state of the Christians was worse than in any former reign, except that of Nero; if, indeed, even this exception ought to be made, since Nero’s persecution was probably limited to Rome. The gradual advance towards toleration, which had continued ever since the death of Domitian, is now succeeded by a sudden retrograde movement. The enmity against Christians is no longer peculiar to the populace, but local governors and judges are found to take spontaneously an active part in persecution. Now, for the first time, they seek out the victims, in contravention of the principle laid down by Trajan instead of discouraging information, they invite or instigate them; they apply torture with the view of forcing a recantation; in order to obtain evidence, they not only violate the ancient law which forbade the admission of slaves as witnesses against their masters, but even wring out the testimony of reluctant slaves by torture.

In explanation of the contrast between the general character of Marcus and his policy towards the church, it has been suggested that, in his devotion to philosophical studies, he may have neglected to bestow due care on the direction and superintendence of the officers by whom the government of the empire was administered; that he may have shared no further in the persecutions of his reign than by carelessly allowing them to be carried on. But this supposition would appear to be inconsistent with facts; for, although no express law of this date against the Christians is extant, it is almost certain that the persecuting measures were sanctioned by new and severe edict’s proceeding from the emperor himself; and we are not without the materials for a more satisfactory solution of the seeming contradiction.

The reign was a period of great public disasters and calamities. A fearful pestilence ravaged the countries from Ethiopia to Gaul; the Tiber rose in flood, destroying among other buildings the public granaries, and causing a famine in the capital; the empire was harassed by long wars on the eastern and northern frontiers, and by the revolt of its most distinguished general in Syria. All such troubles were ascribed to the wrath of the gods, which the Christians were supposed to have provoked. The old tales of atheism and abominable practices, however often refuted, continued to keep their ground in the popular belief; and it appears on investigation that the fiercest renewals of persecution coincided in time with the chief calamities of the reign. The heathen, high as well as low, were terrified into a feeling that the chastisements of Heaven demanded a revival of their sunken religion; they restored its neglected solemnities, they offered sacrifices of unusual costliness, they anxiously endeavoured to remove whatever might be supposed offensive to the gods.

The emperor, as a sincerely religious heathen, shared in the general feeling; nor were his private opinions such as to dispose him favourably towards the Christians, whom it would appear that he knew only through the representations of their enemies the philosophers. The form of philosophy to which he was himself addicted—the Stoic—was very opposite in tone to the Gospel. It may be described as aristocratic—a system for the elevated few; it would naturally lead its followers to scorn as vulgar a doctrine which professed to be for all ranks of society and for every class of minds. The firmness of the Stoic was to be the result of correct reasoning; the emperor himself, in his “Meditations”, illustrates the true philosophical calmness by saying that it must not be like the demeanour of the Christians in death, which he regards as enthusiastic and theatrical. And the enthusiasm was infectious; the sect extended throughout, and even beyond, the empire; already its advocates began to boast of the wonderful progress of their doctrines; and the circumstances thus alleged in its favour might suggest to the mind of an unfriendly statesman a fear of dangerous combinations and movements. If, too, the prosperity of a nation depended on its gods, the triumph over paganism which the Christians anticipated must, it was thought, imply the ruin of the empire. A “kingdom not of this world” was an idea which the heathen could not understand; nor was their alarm without countenance from the language of many Christians, for not only was the Apocalypse interpreted as foretelling the downfall of pagan Rome, but pretended prophecies, such as the Sibylline verses, spoke of it openly, and in a tone of exultation.

It was long believed that Marcus, in the latter years of his reign, changed his policy towards the Christians, in consequence of a miraculous deliverance which he had experienced in one of his campaigns against the Quadi. His army was hemmed in by the barbarians; the soldiers were exhausted by wounds and fatigue, and parched by the rays of a burning sun. In this distress (it is said) a legion composed of Christians stepped forward and knelt down in prayer; on which the sky was suddenly overspread with clouds, and a copious shower descended for the refreshment of the Romans, who took off their helmets to catch the rain. While they were thus partly unarmed, and intent only on quenching their thirst, the enemy attacked them; but a violent storm of lightning and hail arose, which drove full against the barbarians, and enabled the imperial forces to gain an easy victory. It is added that the interposition of the God of Christians was acknowledged; that the emperor bestowed the name of Fulminatrix on the legion whose prayers had been so effectual; and that he issued an edict in favor of their religion.

In refutation of this story it has been shown that, while the deliverance is attested by heathen as well as Christian writers, by coins, and by a representation on the Antonine column at Rome, it is ascribed by the heathens to Jupiter or Mercury, and is said to have been procured either by the arts of an Egyptian magician or by the prayers of the emperor himself; that the idea of a legion consisting exclusively of Christians is absurd; that the title of Fulminatrix was as old as the time of Augustus; and that the worst persecutions of the reign were later than the date of the supposed edict of toleration. But, although the miracle of 44 the Thundering Legion is now generally abandoned, the story may have arisen without any intentional deceit. For the deliverance of the army in the Quadian war is certain; and we may safely assume that there were Christian soldiers in the imperial force, that they prayed in their distress, and that they rightly ascribed their relief to the mercy of God. We have then only to suppose, further, that some Christian, ignorant of military antiquities, connected this event with the name of the Legio Fulminatrix; and the other circumstances are such as might have easily been added to the tale in the course of its transmission.

The most eminent persons who suffered death under Marcus Aurelius were Justin and Polycarp. Early in the reign Justin was induced by the martyrdom of some Christians at Rome to compose a second Apology, in which he expressed an expectation that he himself might soon fall a victim to the arts of his enemies, and especially of one Crescens, a Cynic, who is described as a very vile member of his repulsive sect. The apprehension was speedily verified; and Justin, after having borne himself in his examination with firmness and dignity, was beheaded at Rome, and earned the glorious title which usually accompanies his name.

The martyrdom of Justin was followed by that of Polycarp—a man whose connection with the apostolic age invested him with an altogether peculiar title to reverence in the time to which he had survived. He had been a disciple of St. John, who is supposed to have placed him in the see of Smyrna. It was perhaps Polycarp who was addressed as the “angel” of that church in the Apocalypse; and we have already noticed his correspondence with the martyr Ignatius. Towards the end of the reign of Pius, Polycarp had visited Rome—partly, although not exclusively, for the purpose of discussing a question which had arisen between the churches of Asia and those of other countries as to the time of keeping Easter. It had been the practice of the Asiatics to celebrate the paschal supper on the fourteenth day of the first Jewish month—the same day on which the Jews ate the Passover; and three days later, without regard to the day of the week, they kept the feast of the resurrection. Other churches, on the contrary, held it unlawful to interrupt the fast of the holy week, or to celebrate the resurrection on any other day than the first; their Easter, consequently, was always on a Sunday, and their paschal supper was on its eve. The Asiatic or quartodeciman practice was traced to St. John and St. Philip; that of other churches, to St. Peter and St. Paul.

Polycarp was received at Rome by the bishop, Anicetus, with the respect due to his personal character, to his near connection with the apostles, to his advanced age, and to his long tenure of the episcopal office—for Anicetus was the seventh bishop of Rome since his guest had been set over the church of Smyrna. The discussion of the paschal question was carried on with moderation; it was agreed that on such a matter a difference of practice might be allowed; and Anicetus, in token of fellowship and regard, allowed the Asiatic bishop to consecrate the Eucharist in his presence.

During his residence at Rome, Polycarp succeeded in recovering many persons who had been perverted to heresy by Valentinus, Marcion, and Marcellina, a female professor of Gnosticism. It is said also that he had a personal encounter with Marcion, and that when the heresiarch (probably with reference to some former acquaintance in Asia) asked him for a sign of recognition, his answer was, “I know thee for the firstborn of Satan”.

The martyrdom of Polycarp is related in a letter composed in the name of his church. Persecution had begun to rage in Asia, and many of the Smyrnaean Christians had suffered with admirable constancy; but one who had at first been forward in exposing himself was afterwards persuaded to sacrifice, and from his case the writers of the letter take occasion to discourage the practice of voluntarily courting persecution. The multitude was enraged at the sight of the fortitude which the martyrs displayed, and a cry arose, “Away with the atheists! Seek out Polycarp!”. The behaviour of the venerable bishop, when thus demanded as a victim, was worthy of his character for Christian prudence and sincerity. At the persuasion of his friends he withdrew to a neighbouring village, from which he afterwards removed to another; and, on being discovered in his second retreat, he calmly said, “God’s will be done!” He ordered food to be set before his captors, and spent in fervent prayer the time which was allowed him before he was carried off to the city. As he entered the arena, he is said to have heard a voice from heaven—“Be strong, Polycarp, and play the man!”, and it is added that many of his brethren also heard it. On his appearance the spectators were greatly excited, and broke out into loud clamours. The proconsul exhorted him to purchase liberty by renouncing his faith; but he replied, “Fourscore and six years have I served Christ, and he hath done me no wrong; how can I now blaspheme my King and Saviour”, nor could the proconsul shake his resolution either by renewed solicitations, or by threatening him with the beasts and with fire. The multitude cried out for the bishop’s death, and he was condemned to be burnt—a sentence of which he is said to have before received an intimation by a vision of a fiery pillow. A quantity of wood was soon collected, and it is noted by the narrator that the Jews, “as was their custom”, showed themselves especially zealous in the work. In compliance with his own request that he might not be fastened with the usual iron cramps, as he trusted that God would enable him steadfastly to endure the flames, Polycarp was tied to the stake with cords, and in that position he uttered a thanksgiving for the privilege of glorifying God by his death. The pile was then kindled, but the flame, instead of touching him, swept around him “like the sail of a ship filled with wind”, while his body appeared in the midst, “not like flesh that is burnt, but like bread that is baked, or like gold and silver glowing in a furnace and a perfume as of frankincense or spices filled the air”. As the fire seemingly refused to do its office, one of the executioners stabbed the martyr with a sword, whereupon there issued forth a profusion of blood sufficient to quench the flames. The heathens and the Jews then burnt the body—out of fear, as they said, lest the Christians should worship Polycarp instead of “the Crucified”,—an apprehension by which, as the church of Smyrna remarks, they manifested an utter ignorance of Christian doctrine. The brethren were therefore obliged to content themselves with collecting some of the bones, and bestowing on them an honourable burial. As in the case of Ignatius, the death of the bishop procured a respite for his flock.

At a later time in the reign of Marcus Aurelius a violent persecution took place in the south of Gaul. The church of Lyons and Vienne was of eastern, and comparatively recent, origin; it was still under the care of Pothinus, the head of the mission by which the Gospel had been introduced. In the year 177 when the empire was alarmed by renewed apprehensions of the German war, the Christians of these cities found themselves the objects of outrage; they were insulted and attacked in the streets, their houses were entered and plundered. The eagerness of the authorities to second the popular feeling on this occasion appears in striking contrast with the practice of earlier times. Orders were given to search out the Christians; by the illegal application of torture, some heathen slaves were brought to charge their masters with the abominations of Oedipus and Thyestes; and the victims were then tortured in various ways, and were imprisoned in dungeons where noisomeness and privation were fatal to many. The bishop, a man upwards of ninety years old, and infirm both from age and from sickness, was dragged before the governor, who asked him, “Who is the God of Christians?”. “If thou art worthy”, answered Pothinus, “thou shalt know”. He was scourged without mercy by the officers of the court, and was beaten, kicked, and pelted by the crowd; after which he was carried almost lifeless to a prison, where he died within two days. A distinction was made as to the manner of death between persons of different conditions: slaves were crucified, provincials were exposed to beasts, and the emperor, on being consulted as to the manner of dealing with those who claimed the privilege of Roman citizenship, ordered that such of them as adhered to their faith should be beheaded. Yet notwithstanding this, an Asiatic named Attalus, although a citizen of Rome, was tortured and was exposed to beasts. When placed in a heated iron chair, he calmly remarked, as the smell of his burning flesh arose, that his persecutors were guilty of the cannibalism which they falsely imputed to the Christians.

The behaviour of the sufferers was throughout marked by composure and sobriety. They succeeded by their prayers and by their arguments in persuading some of their brethren, who had at first yielded to the fear of death, to confess their Lord, and to give themselves for him. A slave, named Blandina, was distinguished above all the other martyrs for the variety of tortures which she endured. Her mistress, a Christian, had feared that the constancy of a slave might give way in time of trial; but Blandina’s character had been formed, not by her condition, but by the faith which she professed. Her patience wearied out the inventive cruelty of her tormentors, and amidst her greatest agonies she found strength and relief in repeating, “I am a Christian, and no wickedness is done among us”.

The malice of the heathen did not end with the death of their victims. They cast their bodies to the dogs; they burnt such fragments as were left uneaten, and threw the ashes into the Rhone, in mockery of the doctrine of a resurrection.

In this reign began the controversial opposition on the side of Paganism. The leader in it, Celsus, a man of a showy but shallow cleverness, who is generally supposed to have been an Epicurean, although in his attack he affected the character of a Platonist, reflected on Christianity for its barbarous origin, and charged it with having borrowed from the Egyptians, from Plato, and from other heathen sources. He assailed the scriptural narrative—sometimes confounding Christianity with Judaism, at another time labouring to prove the Old Testament inconsistent with the New, at another introducing a Jew as the mouthpiece for his objections against the Gospel. The lowness of the Saviour’s early birth, the poverty of the first disciples, the humble station, the simplicity, the credulity, of Christians in his own day, furnished Celsus with ample matter for merriment, which was sometimes of a very ribald character. He ascribed the miracles of Scripture to magic, and taxed the Christians with addiction to practices of the same kind. He freely censured both the doctrines and the morality of the Gospel, nor was he ashamed even to denounce its professors as neglectful of their duties to society, and as dangerous to the government of the empire. Utterly futile and worthless as the work of Celsus appears to have been, it continued for a century to be regarded as the chief of those written against Christianity. It was at length honoured with a full and elaborate confutation by Origen; but in the meantime the Gospel did not want able advocates, who maintained its cause both in apologies and in treatises of other kinds. Among the apologists were Melito, bishop of Sardis; Theophilus, bishop of Antioch; Athenagoras, an Athenian philosopher, who is said to have been converted by a perusal of the Scriptures, which he had undertaken with the view of refuting Christianity; Claudius Apollinaris, bishop of Hierapolis; Miltiades; and Tatian, an Assyrian by birth, who had been a pupil of Justin Martyr. Tatian afterwards gained a more unhappy celebrity as the founder of the sect of Encratites. His tenets and those of his contemporary Bardesanes of Edessa (whose hymns found their way even into the congregations of the orthodox), need not be further described than by saying that they both belonged to the gnostic family. A sect of a different character—that of Montanus—had also its rise in the reign of Marcus; but a notice of it may be more fitly given at a somewhat later date, and we must now turn back to survey the heresies which had already disturbed the church.

 

CHAPTER IV.

THE EARLY HERETICS.