Chapter III The Conversion of Rome
There is no fact in the history of the human mind more remarkable than the complete unconsciousness of the importance and the destinies of Christianity, manifested by the Pagan writers before the accession of Constantine. So large an amount of attention has been bestowed on the ten or twelve allusions to it they furnish, that we are sometimes apt to forget how few and meagre those allusions are, and how utterly impossible it is to construct from them, with any degree of certainty, a history of the early Church. Plutarch and the elder Pliny, who probably surpass all other writers of their time in the range of their illustrations, and Seneca, who was certainly the most illustrious moralist of his age, never even mention it. Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius have each adverted to it with a passing and contemptuous censure. Tacitus describes in detail the persecution by Nero, but treats the suffering religion merely as “an execrable superstition;” while Suetonius, employing the same expression, reckons the persecution among the acts of the tyrant that were either laudable or indifferent. Our most important document is the famous letter of the younger Pliny. Lucian throws some light both on the extent of Christian charity, and on the aspect in which Christians were regarded by the religious jugglers of their age, and the long series of Pagans who wrote the lives of the Emperors in that most critical period from the accession of Hadrian, almost to the eve of the triumph of the Church, among a crowd of details concerning the dresses, games, vices, and follies of the Court, supply us with six or seven short notices of the religion that was transforming the world.
The general silence of the Pagan writers on this subject did not arise from any restrictions imposed upon them by authority, for in this field the widest latitude was conceded, nor yet from the notions of the dignity of history, or the importance of individual exertions, which have induced some historians to resolve their task into a catalogue of the achievements of kings, statesmen, and generals. The conception of history, as the record and explanation of moral revolutions, though of course not developed to the same prominence as among some modern writers, was by no means unknown in antiquity,634 and in many branches our knowledge of the social changes of the Roman Empire is extremely copious. The dissolution of old beliefs, the decomposition of the entire social and moral system that had arisen under the Republic, engaged in the very highest degree the attention of the literary classes, and they displayed the most commendable diligence in tracing its stages. It is very curious and instructive to contrast the ample information they have furnished us concerning the growth of Roman luxury, with their almost absolute silence concerning the growth of Christianity. The moral importance of the former movement they clearly recognised, and they have accordingly preserved so full a record of all the changes in dress, banquets, buildings, and spectacles, that it would be possible to write with the most minute detail the whole history of Roman luxury, from the day when a censor deprived an elector of his vote because his garden was negligently cultivated, to the orgies of Nero or Heliogabalus. The moral importance of the other movement they altogether overlooked, and their oversight leaves a chasm in history which can never be supplied.
That the greatest religious change in the history of mankind should have taken place under the eyes of a brilliant galaxy of philosophers and historians, who were profoundly conscious of the decomposition around them, that all of these writers should have utterly failed to predict the issue of the movement they were observing, and that, during the space of three centuries, they should have treated as simply contemptible an agency which all men must now admit to have been, for good or for evil, the most powerful moral lever that has ever been applied to the affairs of man, are facts well worthy of meditation in every period of religious transition. The explanation is to be found in that broad separation between the spheres of morals and of positive religion we have considered in the last chapter. In modern times, men who were examining the probable moral future of the world, would naturally, and in the first place, direct their attention to the relative positions and the probable destinies of religious institutions. In the Stoical period of the Roman Empire, positive religion had come to be regarded as merely an art for obtaining preternatural assistance in the affairs of life, and the moral amelioration of mankind was deemed altogether external to its sphere. Philosophy had become to the educated most literally a religion. It was the rule of life, the exposition of the Divine nature, the source of devotional feeling. The numerous Oriental superstitions that had deluged the city were regarded as peculiarly pernicious and contemptible, and of these none was less likely to attract the favour of the philosophers than that of the Jews,635 who were notorious as the most sordid, the most turbulent,636 and the most unsocial637 of the Oriental colonists. Of the ignorance of their tenets, displayed even by the most eminent Romans, we have a striking illustration in the long series of grotesque fables concerning their belief, probably derived from some satirical pamphlet, which Tacitus has gravely inserted in his history.638 Christianity, in the eyes of the philosopher, was simply a sect of Judaism.
Although I am anxious in the present work to avoid, as far as possible, all questions that are purely theological, and to consider Christianity merely in its aspect as a moral agent, it will be necessary to bestow a few preliminary pages upon its triumph in the Roman Empire, in order to ascertain how far that triumph was due to moral causes, and what were its relations to the prevailing philosophy. There are some writers who have been so struck with the conformity between some of the doctrines of the later Stoics and those of Christianity that they have imagined that Christianity had early obtained a decisive influence over philosophy, and that the leading teachers of Rome had been in some measure its disciples. There are others who reduce the conversion of the Roman Empire to a mere question of evidences, to the overwhelming proofs the Christian teachers produced of the authenticity of the Gospel narratives. There are others, again, who deem the triumph of Christianity simply miraculous. Everything, they tell us, was against it. The course of the Church was like that of a ship sailing rapidly and steadily to the goal, in direct defiance of both wind and tide, and the conversion of the Empire was as literally supernatural as the raising of the dead, or the sudden quelling of the storm.
On the first of these theories it will not, I think, be necessary, after the last chapter, to expatiate at length. It is admitted that the greatest moralists of the Roman Empire either never mentioned Christianity, or mentioned it with contempt; that they habitually disregarded the many religions which had arisen among the ignorant; and that we have no direct evidence of the slightest value of their ever having come in contact with or favoured the Christians. The supposition that they were influenced by Christianity rests mainly upon their enforcement of the Christian duty of self-examination, upon their strong assertion of the universal brotherhood of mankind, and upon the delicate and expansive humanity they at last evinced. But although on all these points the later Stoics approximated much to Christianity, we have already seen that it is easy to discover in each case the cause of the tendency. The duty of self-examination was simply a Pythagorean precept, enforced in that school long before the rise of Christianity, introduced into Stoicism when Pythagoreanism became popular in Rome, and confessedly borrowed from this source. The doctrine of the universal brotherhood of mankind was the manifest expression of those political and social changes which reduced the whole civilised globe to one great empire, threw open to the most distant tribes the right of Roman citizenship, and subverted all those class divisions around which moral theories had been formed. Cicero asserted it as emphatically as Seneca. The theory of pantheism, representing the entire creation as one great body, pervaded by one Divine soul, harmonised with it; and it is a curious fact that the very phraseology concerning the fellow-membership of all things in God, which has been most confidently adduced by some modern writers as proving the connection between Seneca and Christianity, was selected by Lactantius as the clearest illustration of the pantheism of Stoicism.639 The humane character of the later Stoical teaching was obviously due to the infusion of the Greek element into Roman life, which began before the foundation of the Empire, and received a new impulse in the reign of Hadrian, and also to the softening influence of a luxurious civilisation, and of the long peace of the Antonines. While far inferior to the Greeks in practical and realised humanity, the Romans never surpassed their masters in theoretical humanity except in one respect. The humanity of the Greeks, though very earnest, was confined within a narrow circle. The social and political circumstances of the Roman Empire destroyed the barrier.
The only case in which any plausible arguments have been urged in favour of the notion that the writings of the Stoics were influenced by the New Testament is that of Seneca. This philosopher was regarded by all the mediæval writers as a Christian, on the ground of a correspondence with St. Paul, which formed part of a forged account of the martyrdom of St. Peter and St. Paul, attributed to St. Linus. These letters, which were absolutely unnoticed during the first three centuries, and are first mentioned by St. Jerome, are now almost universally abandoned as forgeries;640 but many curious coincidences of phraseology have been pointed out between the writings of Seneca and the epistles of St. Paul; and the presumption derived from them has been strengthened by the facts that the brother of Seneca was that Gallio who refused to hear the disputes between St. Paul and the Jews, and that Burrhus, who was the friend and colleague of Seneca, was the officer to whose custody St. Paul had been entrusted at Rome. Into the minute verbal criticism to which this question had given rise,641 it is not necessary for me to enter. It has been shown that much of what was deemed Christian phraseology grew out of the pantheistic notion of one great body including, and one Divine mind animating and guiding, all existing things; and many other of the pretended coincidences are so slight as to be altogether worthless as an argument. Still I think most persons who review what has been written on the subject will conclude that it is probable some fragments at least of Christian language had come to the ears of Seneca. But to suppose that his system of morals is in any degree formed after the model or under the influence of Christianity, is to be blind to the most obvious characteristics of both Christianity and Stoicism; for no other moralist could be so aptly selected as representing their extreme divergence. Reverence and humility, a constant sense of the supreme majesty of God and of the weakness and sinfulness of man, and a perpetual reference to another world, were the essential characteristics of Christianity, the source of all its power, the basis of its distinctive type. Of all these, the teaching of Seneca is the direct antithesis. Careless of the future world, and profoundly convinced of the supreme majesty of man, he laboured to emancipate his disciples “from every fear of God and man;” and the proud language in which he claimed for the sage an equality with the gods represents, perhaps, the highest point to which philosophic arrogance has been carried. The Jews, with whom the Christians were then universally identified, he emphatically describes as “an accursed race.”642 One man, indeed, there was among the later Stoics who had almost realised the Christian type, and in whose pure and gentle nature the arrogance of his school can be scarcely traced; but Marcus Aurelius, who of all the Pagan world, if we argued by internal evidence alone, would have been most readily identified with Christianity, was a persecutor of the faith, and he has left on record in his “Meditations” his contempt for the Christian martyrs.643
The relation between the Pagan philosophers and the Christian religion was a subject of much discussion and of profound difference of opinion in the early Church.644 While the writers of one school apologised for the murder of Socrates, described the martyred Greek as the ‘buffoon of Athens,’645 and attributed his inspiration to diabolical influence;646 while they designated the writings of the philosophers as “the schools of heretics,” and collected with a malicious assiduity all the calumnies that had been heaped upon their memory—there were others who made it a leading object to establish a close affinity between Pagan philosophy and the Christian revelation. Imbued in many instances, almost from childhood, with the noble teaching of Plato, and keenly alive to the analogies between his philosophy and their new faith, these writers found the exhibition of this resemblance at once deeply grateful to themselves and the most successful way of dispelling the prejudices of their Pagan neighbours. The success that had attended the Christian prophecies attributed to the Sibyls and the oracles, the passion for eclecticism, which the social and commercial position of Alexandria had generated, and also the example of the Jew Aristobulus, who had some time before contended that the Jewish writings had been translated into Greek, and had been the source of much of the Pagan wisdom, encouraged them in their course. The most conciliatory, and at the same time the most philosophical school, was the earliest in the Church. Justin Martyr—the first of the Fathers whose writings possess any general philosophical interest—cordially recognises the excellence of many parts of the Pagan philosophy, and even attributes it to a Divine inspiration, to the action of the generative or “seminal Logos,” which from the earliest times had existed in the world, had inspired teachers like Socrates and Musonius, who had been persecuted by the dæmons, and had received in Christianity its final and perfect manifestation.647 The same generous and expansive appreciation may be traced in the writings of several later Fathers, although the school was speedily disfigured by some grotesque extravagances. Clement of Alexandria—a writer of wide sympathies, considerable originality, very extensive learning, but of a feeble and fantastic judgment—who immediately succeeded Justin Martyr, attributed all the wisdom of antiquity to two sources. The first source was tradition; for the angels, who had been fascinated by the antediluvian ladies, had endeavoured to ingratiate themselves with their fair companions by giving them an abstract of the metaphysical and other learning which was then current in heaven, and the substance of these conversations, being transmitted by tradition, supplied the Pagan philosophers with their leading notions. The angels did not know everything, and therefore the Greek philosophy was imperfect; but this event formed the first great epoch in literary history. The second and most important source of Pagan wisdom was the Old Testament,648 the influence of which many of the early Christians traced in every department of ancient wisdom. Plato had borrowed from it all his philosophy, Homer the noblest conceptions of his poetry, Demosthenes the finest touches of his eloquence. Even Miltiades owed his military skill to an assiduous study of the Pentateuch, and the ambuscade by which he won the battle of Marathon was imitated from the strategy of Moses.649 Pythagoras, moreover, had been himself a circumcised Jew.650 Plato had been instructed in Egypt by the prophet Jeremiah. The god Serapis was no other than the patriarch Joseph, his Egyptian name being manifestly derived from his great-grandmother Sarah.651
Absurdities of this kind, of which I have given extreme but by no means the only examples, were usually primarily intended to repel arguments against Christianity, and they are illustrations of the tendency which has always existed in an uncritical age to invent, without a shadow of foundation, the most elaborate theories of explanation rather than recognise the smallest force in an objection. Thus, when the Pagans attempted to reduce Christianity to a normal product of the human mind, by pointing to the very numerous Pagan legends which were precisely parallel to the Jewish histories, it was answered that the dæmons were careful students of prophecy, that they foresaw with terror the advent of their Divine Conqueror, and that, in order to prevent men believing in him, they had invented, by anticipation, a series of legends resembling the events which were foretold.652 More frequently, however, the early Christians retorted the accusations of plagiarism, and by forged writings attributed to Pagan authors, or, by pointing out alleged traces of Jewish influence in genuine Pagan writings, they endeavoured to trace through the past the footsteps of their faith. But this method of assimilation, which culminated in the Gnostics, the Neoplatonists, and especially in Origen, was directed not to the later Stoics of the Empire, but to the great philosophers who had preceded Christianity. It was in the writings of Plato, not in those of Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius, that the Fathers of the first three centuries found the influence of the Jewish Scriptures, and at the time when the passion for discovering these connections was most extravagant, the notion of Seneca and his followers being inspired by the Christians was unknown.
Dismissing then, as altogether groundless, the notion that Christianity had obtained a complete or even a partial influence over the philosophic classes during the period of Stoical ascendancy, we come to the opinion of those who suppose that the Roman Empire was converted by a system of evidences—by the miraculous proofs of the divinity of Christianity, submitted to the adjudication of the people. To estimate this view aright, we have to consider both the capacity of the men of that age for judging miracles, and also—which is a different question—the extent to which such evidence would weigh upon their minds. To treat this subject satisfactorily, it may be advisable to enter at some little length into the broad question of the evidence of the miraculous.
With the exception of a small minority of the priests of the Catholic Church, a general incredulity on the subject of miracles now underlies the opinions of almost all educated men. Nearly every one, however cordially he may admit some one particular class of miracles, as a general rule regards the accounts of such events, which are so frequent in all old historians, as false and incredible, even when he fully believes the natural events that are authenticated by the same testimony. The reason of this incredulity is not altogether the impossibility or even extreme natural improbability of miracles; for, whatever may be the case with some, there is at least one class or conception of them which is perfectly free from logical difficulty. There is no contradiction involved in the belief that spiritual beings, of power and wisdom immeasurably transcending our own, exist, or that, existing, they might, by the normal exercise of their powers, perform feats as far surpassing the understanding of the most gifted of mankind, as the electric telegraph and the prediction of an eclipse surpass the faculties of a savage. Nor does the incredulity arise, I think, as is commonly asserted, from the want of that amount and kind of evidence which in other departments is deemed sufficient. Very few of the minor facts of history are authenticated by as much evidence as the Stigmata of St. Francis, or the miracle of the holy thorn, or those which were said to have been wrought at the tomb of the Abbé Paris. We believe, with tolerable assurance, a crowd of historical events on the testimony of one or two Roman historians; but when Tacitus and Suetonius describe how Vespasian restored a blind man to sight, and a cripple to strength,653 their deliberate assertions do not even beget in our minds a suspicion that the narrative may possibly be true. We are quite certain that miracles were not ordinary occurrences in classical or mediæval times, but nearly all the contemporary writers from whom we derive our knowledge of those periods were convinced that they were.
If, then, I have correctly interpreted the opinions of ordinary educated people on this subject, it appears that the common attitude towards miracles is not that of doubt, of hesitation, of discontent with the existing evidence, but rather of absolute, derisive, and even unexamining incredulity. Such a fact, when we consider that the antecedent possibility of at least some miracles is usually admitted, and in the face of the vast mass of tradition that may be adduced in their favour, appears at first sight a striking anomaly, and the more so because it can be shown that the belief in miracles had in most cases not been reasoned down, but had simply faded away.
In order to ascertain the process by which this state of mind has been attained, we may take an example in a sphere which is happily removed from controversy. There are very few persons with whom the fictitious character of fairy tales has not ceased to be a question, or who would hesitate to disbelieve or even to ridicule any anecdote of this nature which was told them, without the very smallest examination of its evidence. Yet, if we ask in what respect the existence of fairies is naturally contradictory or absurd, it would be difficult to answer the question. A fairy is simply a being possessing a moderate share of human intelligence, with little or no moral faculty, with a body pellucid, winged, and volatile, like that of an insect, with a passion for dancing, and, perhaps, with an extraordinary knowledge of the properties of different plants. That such beings should exist, or that, existing, they should be able to do many things beyond human power, are propositions which do not present the smallest difficulty. For many centuries their existence was almost universally believed. There is not a country, not a province, scarcely a parish, in which traditions of their appearance were not long preserved. So great a weight of tradition, so many independent trains of evidence attesting statements perfectly free from intrinsic absurdity, or even improbability, might appear sufficient, if not to establish conviction, at least to supply a very strong primâ facie case, and ensure a patient and respectful investigation of the subject.
It has not done so, and the reason is sufficiently plain. The question of the credibility of fairy tales has not been resolved by an examination of evidence, but by an observation of the laws of historic development. Wherever we find an ignorant and rustic population, the belief in fairies is found to exist, and circumstantial accounts of their apparitions are circulated. But invariably with increased education this belief passes away. It is not that the fairy tales are refuted or explained away, or even narrowly scrutinised. It is that the fairies cease to appear. From the uniformity of this decline, we infer that fairy tales are the normal product of a certain condition of the imagination; and this position is raised to a moral certainty when we find that the decadence of fairy tales is but one of a long series of similar transformations.
When the savage looks around upon the world and begins to form his theories of existence, he falls at once into three great errors, which become the first principles of his subsequent opinions. He believes that this earth is the centre of the universe, and that all the bodies encircling it are intended for its use; that the disturbances and dislocations it presents, and especially the master curse of death, are connected with some event in his history, and also that the numerous phenomena and natural vicissitudes he sees around him are due to direct and isolated volitions, either of spirits presiding over, or of intelligences inherent in, matter. Around these leading conceptions a crowd of particular legends speedily cluster. If a stone falls beside him, he naturally infers that some one has thrown it. If it be an aërolite, it is attributed to some celestial being. Believing that each comet, tempest, or pestilence results from a direct and isolated act, he proceeds to make theories regarding the motives that have induced his spiritual persecutors to assail him, and the methods by which he may assuage their anger. Finding numerous distinct trains or series of phenomena, he invents for each appropriate presiding spirits. Miracles are to him neither strange events nor violations of natural law, but simply the unveiling or manifestation of the ordinary government of the world.
With these broad intellectual conceptions several minor influences concur. A latent fetichism, which is betrayed in that love of direct personification, or of applying epithets derived from sentient beings to inanimate nature, which appears so largely in all poetry and eloquence, and especially in those of an early period of society, is the root of a great part of our opinions. If—to employ a very familiar illustration—the most civilised and rational of mankind will observe his own emotions, when by some accident he has struck his head violently against a door-post, he will probably find that his first exclamation was not merely of pain but of anger, and of anger directed against the wood. In a moment reason checks the emotion; but if he observes carefully his own feelings, he may easily convince himself of the unconscious fetichism which, is latent in his mind, and which, in the case of a child or a savage, displays itself without reserve. Man instinctively ascribes volition to whatever powerfully affects him. The feebleness of his imagination conspires with other causes to prevent an uncivilised man from rising above the conception of an anthropomorphic Deity, and the capricious or isolated acts of such a being form his exact notion of miracles. The same feebleness of imagination makes him clothe all intellectual tendencies, all conflicting emotions, all forces, passions, or fancies, in material forms. His mind naturally translates the conflict between opposing feelings into a history of the combat between rival spirits. A vast accumulation of myths is spontaneously formed—each legend being merely the material expression of a moral fact. The simple love of the wonderful, and the complete absence of all critical spirit, aid the formation.
In this manner we find that in certain stages of society, and under the action of the influences I have stated, an accretion of miraculous legends is naturally formed around prominent personages or institutions. We look for them as we look for showers in April, or for harvest in autumn. We can very rarely show with any confidence the precise manner in which a particular legend is created or the nucleus of truth it contains, but we can analyse the general causes that have impelled men towards the miraculous; we can show that these causes have never failed to produce the effect, and we can trace the gradual alteration of mental conditions invariably accompanying the decline of the belief. When men are destitute of critical spirit, when the notion of uniform law is yet unborn, and when their imaginations are still incapable of rising to abstract ideas, histories of miracles are always formed and always believed, and they continue to flourish and to multiply until these conditions have altered. Miracles cease when men cease to believe and to expect them. In periods that are equally credulous, they multiply or diminish in proportion to the intensity with which the imagination is directed to theological topics. A comparison of the histories of the most different nations shows the mythical period to have been common to all; and we may trace in many quarters substantially the same miracles, though varied by national characteristics, and with a certain local cast and colouring. As among the Alps the same shower falls as rain in the sunny valleys, and as snow among the lofty peaks, so the same intellectual conceptions which in one moral latitude take the form of nymphs, or fairies, or sportive legends, appear in another as dæmons or appalling apparitions. Sometimes we can discover the precise natural fact which the superstition had misread. Thus, epilepsy, the phenomenon of nightmare, and that form of madness which leads men to imagine themselves transformed into some animal, are, doubtless, the explanation of many tales of demoniacal possession, of incubi, and of lycanthropy. In other cases we may detect a single error, such as the notion that the sky is close to the earth, or that the sun revolves around the globe, which had suggested the legend. But more frequently we can give only a general explanation, enabling us to assign these legends to their place, as the normal expression of a certain stage of knowledge or intellectual power; and this explanation is their refutation. We do not say that they are impossible, or even that they are not authenticated by as much evidence as many facts we believe. We only say that, in certain conditions of society, illusions of the kind inevitably appear. No one can prove that there are no such things as ghosts; but if a man whose brain is reeling with fever declares that he has seen one, we have no great difficulty in forming an opinion about his assertion.
The gradual decadence of miraculous narratives which accompanies advancing civilisation may be chiefly traced to three causes. The first is that general accuracy of observation and of statement which all education tends more or less to produce, which checks the amplifications of the undisciplined imagination, and is speedily followed by a much stronger moral feeling on the subject of truth than ever exists in a rude civilisation. The second is an increased power of abstraction, which is likewise a result of general education, and which, by correcting the early habit of personifying all phenomena, destroys one of the most prolific sources of legends, and closes the mythical period of history. The third is the progress of physical science, which gradually dispels that conception of a universe governed by perpetual and arbitrary interference, from which, for the most part, these legends originally sprang. The whole history of physical science is one continued revelation of the reign of law. The same law that governs the motions of a grain of dust, or the light of the glowworm’s lamp, is shown to preside over the march of the most majestic planet or the fire of the most distant sun. Countless phenomena, which were for centuries universally believed to be the results of spiritual agency, portents of calamity, or acts of Divine vengeance, have been one by one explained, have been shown to rise from blind physical causes, to be capable of prediction, or amenable to human remedies. Forms of madness which were for ages supposed to result from possession, are treated successfully in our hospitals. The advent of the comet is predicted. The wire invented by the sceptic Franklin defends the crosses on our churches from the lightning stroke of heaven. Whether we examine the course of the planets or the world of the animalculæ; to whatever field of physical nature our research is turned, the uniform, invariable result of scientific enquiry is to show that even the most apparently irregular and surprising phenomena are governed by natural antecedents, and are parts of one great connected system. From this vast concurrence of evidence, from this uniformity of experience in so many spheres, there arises in the minds of scientific men a conviction, amounting to absolute moral certainty, that the whole course of physical nature is governed by law, that the notion of the perpetual interference of the Deity with some particular classes of its phenomena is false and unscientific, and that the theological habit of interpreting the catastrophes of nature as Divine warnings or punishments, or disciplines, is a baseless and a pernicious superstition.
The effects of these discoveries upon miraculous legends are of various kinds. In the first place, a vast number which have clustered around the notion of the irregularity of some phenomenon which is proved to be regular—such as the innumerable accounts collected by the ancients to corroborate their opinion of the portentous nature of comets—are directly overthrown. In the next place, the revelation of the interdependence of phenomena greatly increases the improbability of some legends which it does not actually disprove. Thus, when men believed the sun to be simply a lamp revolving around and lighting our world, they had no great difficulty in believing that it was one day literally arrested in its course, to illuminate an army which was engaged in massacring its enemies; but the case became different when it was perceived that the sun was the centre of a vast system of worlds, which a suspension of the earth’s motion must have reduced to chaos, without a miracle extending through it all. Thus, again, the old belief that some animals became for the first time carnivorous in consequence of the sin of Adam, appeared tolerably simple so long as this revolution was supposed to be only a change of habits or of tastes; but it became more difficult of belief when it was shown to involve a change of teeth; and the difficulty was, I suppose, still further aggravated when it was proved that, every animal having digestive organs specially adapted to its food, these also must have been changed.
In the last place, physical science exercises a still wider influence by destroying what I have called the centre ideas out of which countless particular theories were evolved, of which they were the natural expression, and upon which their permanence depends. Proving that our world is not the centre of the universe, but is a simple planet, revolving with many others around a common sun; proving that the disturbances and sufferings of the world do not result from an event which occurred but 6,000 years ago; that long before that period the earth was dislocated by the most fearful convulsions; that countless generations of sentient animals, and also, as recent discoveries appear conclusively to show, of men, not only lived but died; proving, by an immense accumulation of evidence, that the notion of a universe governed by isolated acts of special intervention is untrue—physical science had given new directions to the currents of the imagination, supplied the judgment with new measures of probability, and thus affected the whole circle of our beliefs.
With most men, however, the transition is as yet but imperfectly accomplished, and that part of physical nature which science has hitherto failed to explain is regarded as a sphere of special interposition. Thus, multitudes who recognise the fact that the celestial phenomena are subject to inflexible law, imagine that the dispensation of rain is in some sense the result of arbitrary interpositions, determined by the conduct of mankind. Near the equator, it is true, it is tolerably constant and capable of prediction; but in proportion as we recede from the equator, the rainfall becomes more variable, and consequently, in the eyes of some, supernatural, and although no scientific man has the faintest doubt that it is governed by laws as inflexible as those which determine the motions of the planets, yet because, owing to the great complexity of the determining causes, we are unable fully to explain them, it is still customary to speak of “plagues of rain and water” sent on account of our sins, and of “scarcity and dearth, which we most justly suffer for our iniquity.” Corresponding language is employed about the forms of disease and death which science has but imperfectly explained. If men are employed in some profession which compels them to inhale steel filings or noxious vapours, or if they live in a pestilential marsh, the diseases that result from these conditions are not regarded as a judgment or a discipline, for the natural cause is obvious and decisive. But if the conditions that produced the disease are very subtle and very complicated; if physicians are incapable of tracing with certainty its nature or its effects; if, above all, it assumes the character of an epidemic, it is continually treated as a Divine judgment. The presumption against this view arises not only from the fact that, in exact proportion as medical science advances, diseases are proved to be the necessary consequence of physical conditions, but also from many characteristics of unexplained disease which unequivocally prove it to be natural. Thus, cholera, which is frequently treated according to the theological method, varies with the conditions of temperature, is engendered by particular forms of diet, follows the course of rivers, yields in some measure to medical treatment, can be aggravated or mitigated by courses of conduct that have no relation to vice or virtue, takes its victims indiscriminately from all grades of morals or opinion. Usually, when definite causes are assigned for a supposed judgment, they lead to consequences of the most grotesque absurdity. Thus, when a deadly and mysterious disease fell upon the cattle of England, some divines, not content with treating it as a judgment, proceeded to trace it to certain popular writings containing what were deemed heterodox opinions about the Pentateuch, or about the eternity of punishment. It may be true that the disease was imported from a country where such speculations are unknown; that the authors objected to had no cattle; that the farmers, who chiefly suffered by the disease, were for the most part absolutely unconscious of the existence of these books, and if they knew them would have indignantly repudiated them; that the town populations, who chiefly read them, were only affected indirectly by a rise in the price of food, which falls with perfect impartiality upon the orthodox and upon the heterodox; that particular counties were peculiarly sufferers, without being at all conspicuous for their scepticism; that similar writings appeared in former periods, without cattle being in any respect the worse; and that, at the very period at which the plague was raging, other countries, in which far more audacious speculations were rife, enjoyed an absolute immunity. In the face of all these consequences, the theory has been confidently urged and warmly applauded.
It is not, I think, sufficiently observed how large a proportion of such questions are capable of a strictly inductive method of discussion. If it is said that plagues or pestilences are sent as a punishment of error or of vice, the assertion must be tested by a comprehensive examination of the history of plagues on the one hand, and of periods of great vice and heterodoxy on the other. If it be said that an influence more powerful than any military agency directs the course of battles, the action of this force must be detected as we would detect electricity, or any other force, by experiment. If the attribute of infallibility be ascribed to a particular Church, an inductive reasoner will not be content with enquiring how far an infallible Church would be a desirable thing, or how far certain ancient words may be construed as a prediction of its appearance; he will examine, by a wide and careful survey of ecclesiastical history, whether this Church has actually been immutable and consistent in its teaching; whether it has never been affected by the ignorance or the passion of the age; whether its influence has uniformly been exerted on the side which proved to be true; whether it has never supported by its authority scientific views which were afterwards demonstrated to be false, or countenanced and consolidated popular errors, or thrown obstacles in the path of those who were afterwards recognised as the enlighteners of mankind. If ecclesiastical deliberations are said to be specially inspired or directed by an illuminating and supernatural power, we should examine whether the councils and convocations of clergymen exhibit a degree and harmony of wisdom that cannot reasonably be accounted for by the play of our unassisted faculties. If institutions are said to owe their growth to special supernatural agencies, distinct from the ordinary system of natural laws, we must examine whether their courses are so striking and so peculiar that natural laws fail to explain them. Whenever, as in the case of a battle, very many influences concur to the result, it will frequently happen that that result will baffle our predictions. It will also happen that strange coincidences, such as the frequent recurrence of the same number in a game of chance, will occur. But there are limits to these variations from what we regard as probable. If, in throwing the dice, we uniformly attained the same number, or if in war the army which was most destitute of all military advantages was uniformly victorious, we should readily infer that some special cause was operating to produce the result. We must remember, too, that in every great historical crisis the prevalence of either side will bring with it a long train of consequences, and that we only see one side of the picture. If Hannibal, after his victory at Cannæ, had captured and burnt Rome, the vast series of results that have followed from the ascendancy of the Roman Empire would never have taken place, but the supremacy of a maritime, commercial, and comparatively pacific power would have produced an entirely different series, which would have formed the basis and been the essential condition of all the subsequent progress; a civilisation, the type and character of which it is now impossible to conjecture, would have arisen, and its theologians would probably have regarded the career of Hannibal as one of the most manifest instances of special interposition on record.
If we would form sound opinions on these matters, we must take a very wide and impartial survey of the phenomena of history. We must examine whether events have tended in a given direction with a uniformity or a persistence that is not naturally explicable. We must examine not only the facts that corroborate our theory, but also those which oppose it.
That such a method is not ordinarily adopted must be manifest to all. As Bacon said, men “mark the hits, but not the misses;” they collect industriously the examples in which many, and sometimes improbable, circumstances have converged to a result which they consider good, and they simply leave out of their consideration the circumstances that tend in the opposite direction. They expatiate with triumph upon the careers of emperors who have been the unconscious pioneers or agents in some great movement of human progress, but they do not dwell upon those whose genius was expended in a hopeless resistance, or upon those who, like Bajazet or Tamerlane, having inflicted incalculable evils upon mankind, passed away, leaving no enduring fruit behind them. A hundred missionaries start upon an enterprise, the success of which appears exceedingly improbable. Ninety-nine perish and are forgotten. One missionary succeeds, and his success is attributed to supernatural interference, because the probabilities were so greatly against him. It is observed that a long train of political or military events ensured the triumph of Protestantism in certain nations and periods. It is forgotten that another train of events destroyed the same faith in other lands, and paralysed the efforts of its noblest martyrs. We are told of showers of rain that followed public prayer; but we are not told how often prayers for rain proved abortive, or how much longer than usual the dry weather had already continued when they were offered.654 As the old philosopher observed, the votive tablets of those who escaped are suspended in the temple, while those who were shipwrecked are forgotten.
Unfortunately, these inconsistencies do not arise simply from intellectual causes. A feeling which was intended to be religious, but which was in truth deeply the reverse, once led men to shrink from examining the causes of some of the more terrible of physical phenomena, because it was thought that these should be deemed special instances of Divine interference, and should, therefore, be regarded as too sacred for investigation.655 In the world of physical science this mode of thought has almost vanished, but a corresponding sentiment may be often detected in the common judgments of history. Very many well-meaning men—censuring the pursuit of truth in the name of the God of Truth—while they regard it as commendable and religious to collect facts illustrating or corroborating the theological theory of life, consider it irreverent and wrong to apply to those facts, and to that theory, the ordinary severity of inductive reasoning.
What I have written is not in any degree inconsistent with the belief that, by the dispensation of Providence, moral causes have a natural and often overwhelming influence upon happiness and upon success, nor yet with the belief that our moral nature enters into a very real, constant, and immediate contact with a higher power. Nor does it at all disprove the possibility of Divine interference with the order even of physical nature. A world governed by special acts of intervention, such as that which mediæval theologians imagined, is perfectly conceivable, though it is probable that most impartial enquirers will convince themselves that this is not the system of the planet we inhabit; and if any instance of such interference be sufficiently attested, it should not be rejected as intrinsically impossible. It is, however, the fundamental error of most writers on miracles, that they confine their attention to two points—the possibility of the fact, and the nature of the evidence. There is a third element, which in these questions is of capital importance: the predisposition of men in certain stages of society towards the miraculous, which is so strong that miraculous stories are then invariably circulated and credited, and which makes an amount of evidence that would be quite sufficient to establish a natural fact, altogether inadequate to establish a supernatural one. The positions for which I have been contending are that a perpetual interference of the Deity with the natural course of events is the earliest and simplest notion of miracles, and that this notion, which is implied in so many systems of belief, arose in part from an ignorance of the laws of nature, and in part also from an incapacity for inductive reasoning, which led men merely to collect facts coinciding with their preconceived opinions, without attending to those that were inconsistent with them. By this method there is no superstition that could not be defended. Volumes have been written giving perfectly authentic histories of wars, famines, and pestilences that followed the appearance of comets. There is not an omen, not a prognostic, however childish, that has not, in the infinite variety of events, been occasionally verified, and to minds that are under the influence of a superstitious imagination these occasional verifications more than outweigh all the instances of error. Simple knowledge is wholly insufficient to correct the disease. No one is so firmly convinced of the reality of lucky and unlucky days, and of supernatural portents, as the sailor, who has spent his life in watching the deep, and has learnt to read with almost unerring skill the promise of the clouds. No one is more persuaded of the superstitions about fortune than the habitual gambler. Sooner than abandon his theory, there is no extravagance of hypothesis to which the superstitious man will not resort. The ancients were convinced that dreams were usually supernatural. If the dream was verified, this was plainly a prophecy. If the event was the exact opposite of what the dream foreshadowed, the latter was still supernatural, for it was a recognised principle that dreams should sometimes be interpreted by contraries. If the dream bore no relation to subsequent events, unless it were transformed into a fantastic allegory, it was still supernatural, for allegory was one of the most ordinary forms of revelation. If no ingenuity of interpretation could find a prophetic meaning in a dream, its supernatural character was even then not necessarily destroyed; for Homer said there was a special portal through which deceptive visions passed into the mind, and the Fathers declared that it was one of the occupations of the dæmons to perplex and bewilder us with unmeaning dreams.
To estimate aright the force of the predisposition to the miraculous should be one of the first tasks of the enquirer into its reality; and no one, I think, can examine the subject with impartiality without arriving at the conclusion that in many periods of history it has been so strong as to accumulate around pure delusions an amount of evidence far greater than would be sufficient to establish even improbable natural facts. Through the entire duration of Pagan Rome, it was regarded as an unquestionable truth, established by the most ample experience, that prodigies of various kinds announced every memorable event, and that sacrifices had the power of mitigating or arresting calamity. In the Republic, the Senate itself officially verified and explained the prodigies.656 In the Empire there is not an historian, from Tacitus down to the meanest writer in the Augustan history, who was not convinced that numerous prodigies foreshadowed the accession and death of every sovereign, and every great catastrophe that fell upon the people. Cicero could say with truth that there was not a single nation of antiquity, from the polished Greek to the rudest savage, which did not admit the existence of a real art enabling men to foretell the future, and that the splendid temples of the oracles, which for so many centuries commanded the reverence of mankind, sufficiently attested the intensity of the belief.657 The reality of the witch miracles was established by a critical tribunal, which, however imperfect, was at least the most searching then existing in the world, by the judicial decisions of the law courts of every European country, supported by the unanimous voice of public opinion, and corroborated by the investigation of some of the ablest men during several centuries. The belief that the king’s touch can cure scrofula flourished in the most brilliant periods of English history.658 It was unshaken by the most numerous and public experiments. It was asserted by the privy council, by the bishops of two religions, by the general voice of the clergy in the palmiest days of the English Church, by the University of Oxford, and by the enthusiastic assent of the people. It survived the ages of the Reformation, of Bacon, of Milton, and of Hobbes. It was by no means extinct in the age of Locke, and would probably have lasted still longer, had not the change of dynasty at the Revolution assisted the tardy scepticism.659 Yet there is now scarcely an educated man who will defend these miracles. Considered abstractedly, indeed, it is perfectly conceivable that Providence might have announced coming events by prodigies, or imparted to some one a miraculous power, or permitted evil spirits to exist among mankind and assist them in their enterprises. The evidence establishing these miracles is cumulative, and it is immeasurably greater than the evidence of many natural facts, such as the earthquakes at Antioch, which no one would dream of questioning. We disbelieve the miracles, because an overwhelming experience proves that in certain intellectual conditions, and under the influence of certain errors which we are enabled to trace, superstitions of this order invariably appear and flourish, and that, when these intellectual conditions have passed, the prodigies as invariably cease, and the whole fabric of superstition melts silently away.
It is extremely difficult for an ordinary man, who is little conversant with the writings of the past, and who unconsciously transfers to other ages the critical spirit of his own, to realise the fact that histories of the most grotesquely extravagant nature could, during the space of many centuries, be continually propounded without either provoking the smallest question or possessing the smallest truth. We may, however, understand something of this credulity when we remember the diversion of the ancient mind from physical science to speculative philosophy; the want of the many checks upon error which printing affords; the complete absence of that habit of cautious, experimental research which Bacon and his contemporaries infused into modern philosophy; and, in Christian times, the theological notion that the spirit of belief is a virtue, and the spirit of scepticism a sin. We must remember, too, that before men had found the key to the motions of the heavenly bodies—before the false theory of the vortices and the true theory of gravitation—when the multitude of apparently capricious phenomena was very great, the notion that the world was governed by distinct and isolated influences was that which appeared most probable even to the most rational intellect. In such a condition of knowledge—which was that of the most enlightened days of the Roman Empire—the hypothesis of universal law was justly regarded as a rash and premature generalisation. Every enquirer was confronted with innumerable phenomena that were deemed plainly miraculous. When Lucretius sought to banish the supernatural from the universe, he was compelled to employ much ingenuity in endeavouring to explain, by a natural law, why a miraculous fountain near the temple of Jupiter Ammon was hot by night and cold by day, and why the temperature of wells was higher in winter than in summer.660 Eclipses were supposed by the populace to foreshadow calamity; but the Roman soldiers believed that by beating drums and cymbals they could cause the moon’s disc to regain its brightness.661 In obedience to dreams, the great Emperor Augustus went begging money through the streets of Rome,662 and the historian who records the act himself wrote to Pliny, entreating the postponement of a trial.663 The stroke of the lightning was an augury,664 and its menace was directed especially against the great, who cowered in abject terror during a thunder-storm. Augustus used to guard himself against thunder by wearing the skin of a sea-calf.665 Tiberius, who professed to be a complete freethinker, had greater faith in laurel leaves.666 Caligula was accustomed during a thunderstorm to creep beneath his bed.667 During the games in honour of Julius Cæsar, a comet appearing for seven days in the sky, the people believed it to be the soul of the dead,668 and a temple was erected in its honour.669 Sometimes we find this credulity broken by curious inconsistencies of belief, or semi-rationalistic explanations. Livy, who relates with perfect faith innumerable prodigies, has observed, nevertheless, that the more prodigies are believed, the more they are announced.670 Those who admitted most fully the reality of the oracles occasionally represented them as natural contending that a prophetic faculty was innate in all men, though dormant in most; that it might be quickened into action by sleep, by a pure and ascetic life, or in the prostration that precedes death, or in the delirium produced by certain vapours; and that the gradual enfeebling of the last was the cause of the cessation of the oracles.671 Earthquakes were believed to result from supernatural interpositions, and to call for expiatory sacrifices, but at the same time they had direct natural antecedents. The Greeks believed that they were caused by subterranean waters, and they accordingly sacrificed to Poseidon. The Romans were uncertain as to their physical antecedents, and therefore inscribed no name on the altar of expiation.672 Pythagoras is said to have attributed them to the strugglings of the dead.673 Pliny, after a long discussion, decided that they were produced by air forcing itself through fissures of the earth, but he immediately proceeds to assert that they are invariably the precursors of calamity.674 The same writer, having recounted the triumph of astronomers in predicting and explaining eclipses, bursts into an eloquent apostrophe to those great men who had thus reclaimed man from the dominion of superstition, and in high and enthusiastic terms urges them to pursue still further their labour in breaking the thraldom of ignorance.675 A few chapters later he professes his unhesitating belief in the ominous character of comets.676 The notions, too, of magic and astrology, were detached from all theological belief, and might be found among many who were absolute atheists.677
These few examples will be sufficient to show how fully the Roman soil was prepared for the reception of miraculous histories, even after the writings of Cicero and Seneca, in the brilliant days of Augustus and the Antonines. The feebleness of the uncultivated mind, which cannot rise above material conceptions, had indeed passed away, the legends of the popular theology had lost all power over the educated, but at the same time an absolute ignorance of physical science and of inductive reasoning remained. The facility of belief that was manifested by some of the most eminent men, even on matters that were not deemed supernatural, can only be realised by those who have an intimate acquaintance with their works. Thus, to give but a few examples, that great naturalist whom I have so often cited tells us with the utmost gravity how the fiercest lion trembles at the crowing of a cock;678 how elephants celebrate their religious ceremonies;679 how the stag draws serpents by its breath from their holes, and then tramples them to death;680 how the salamander is so deadly that the food cooked in water, or the fruit grown on trees it has touched, are fatal to man;681 how, when a ship is flying before so fierce a tempest that no anchors or chains can hold it, if only the remora or echinus fastens on its keel, it is arrested in its course, and remains motionless and rooted among the waves.682 On matters that would appear the most easily verified, he is equally confident. Thus, the human saliva, he assures us, has many mysterious properties. If a man, especially when fasting, spits into the throat of a serpent, it is said that the animal speedily dies.683 It is certain that to anoint the eyes with spittle is a sovereign remedy against ophthalmia.684 If a pugilist, having struck his adversary, spits into his own hand, the pain he caused instantly ceases. If he spits into his hand before striking, the blow is the more severe.685 Aristotle, the greatest naturalist of Greece, had observed that it was a curious fact that on the sea-shore no animal ever dies except during the ebbing of the tide. Several centuries later, Pliny, the greatest naturalist of an empire that was washed by many tidal seas, directed his attention to this statement. He declared that, after careful observations which had been made in Gaul, it had been found to be inaccurate, for what Aristotle stated of all animals was in fact only true of man.686 It was in 1727 and the two following years, that scientific observations made at Rochefort and at Brest finally dissipated the delusion.687
Volumes might be filled with illustrations of how readily, in the most enlightened days of the Roman Empire, strange, and especially miraculous, tales were believed, even under circumstances that would appear to give every facility for the detection of the imposture. In the field of the supernatural, however, it should be remembered that a movement, which I have traced in the last chapter, had produced a very exceptional amount of credulity during the century and a half that preceded the conversion of Constantine. Neither the writings of Cicero and Seneca, nor even those of Pliny and Plutarch, can be regarded as fair samples of the belief of the educated. The Epicurean philosophy which rejected, the Academic philosophy which doubted, and the Stoic philosophy which simplified and sublimated superstition, had alike disappeared. The “Meditations” of Marcus Aurelius closed the period of Stoical influence, and the “Dialogues” of Lucian were the last solitary protest of expiring scepticism.688 The aim of the philosophy of Cicero had been to ascertain truth by the free exercise of the critical powers. The aim of the Pythagorean philosophy was to attain the state of ecstasy, and to purify the mind by religious rites. Every philosopher soon plunged into magical practices, and was encircled, in the eyes of his disciples, with a halo of legend. Apollonius of Tyana, whom the Pagans opposed to Christ, had raised the dead, healed the sick, cast out devils, freed a young man from a lamia or vampire with whom he was enamoured, prophesied, seen in one country events that were occurring in another, and filled the world with the fame of his miracles and of his sanctity.689 A similar power, notwithstanding his own disclaimer, was popularly attributed to the Platonist Apuleius.690 Lucian has left us a detailed account of the impostures by which the philosopher Alexander endeavoured to acquire the fame of a miracle-worker.691 When a magician plotted against Plotinus, his spells recoiled miraculously against himself; and when an Egyptian priest endeavoured by incantations to evoke the guardian dæmon of the philosopher, instead of a dæmon the temple of Isis was irradiated by the presence of a god.692 Porphyry was said to have expelled an evil dæmon from a bath.693 It was reported among his disciples that when Iamblichus prayed he was raised (like the saints of another creed) ten cubits from the ground, and that his body and his dress assumed a golden hue.694 It was well known that he had at Gadara drawn forth from the waters of two fountains their guardian spirits, and exhibited them in bodily form to his disciples.695 A woman named Sospitra had been visited by two spirits under the form of aged Chaldeans, and had been endowed with a transcendent beauty and with a superhuman knowledge. Raised above all human frailties, save only love and death, she was able to see at once the deeds which were done in every land, and the people, dazzled by her beauty and her wisdom, ascribed to her a share of the omnipresence of the Deity.696
Christianity floated into the Roman Empire on the wave of credulity that brought with it this long train of Oriental superstitions and legends. In its moral aspect it was broadly distinguished from the systems around it, but its miracles were accepted by both friend and foe as the ordinary accompaniments of religious teaching. The Jews, in the eyes of the Pagans, had long been proverbial for their credulity,697 and the Christians inherited a double measure of their reputation. Nor is it possible to deny that in the matter of the miraculous the reputation was deserved. Among the Pagans the theory of Euhemerus, who believed the gods to be but deified men, had been the stronghold of the Sceptics, while the Platonic notion of dæmons was adopted by the more believing philosophers. The Christian teachers combined both theories, maintaining that deceased kings had originally supplied the names of the deities, but that malevolent dæmons had taken their places; and without a single exception the Fathers maintained the reality of the Pagan miracles as fully as their own.698 The oracles, as we have seen, had been ridiculed and rejected by numbers of the philosophers, but the Christians unanimously admitted their reality. They appealed to a long series of oracles as predictions of their faith; and there is, I believe, no example of the denial of their supernatural character in the Christian Church till 1696, when a Dutch Anabaptist minister named Van Dale, in a remarkable book,699 which was abridged and translated by Fontenelle, asserted, in opposition to the unanimous voice of ecclesiastical authority, that they were simple impostures—a theory which is now almost universally accepted. To suppose that men who held these opinions were capable, in the second or third centuries, of ascertaining with any degree of just confidence whether miracles had taken place in Judæa in the first century, is grossly absurd; nor would the conviction of their reality have made any great impression on their minds at a time when miracles were supposed to be so abundantly diffused.
In truth, the question of the reality of the Jewish miracles must be carefully distinguished from that of the conversion of the Roman Empire. With the light that is furnished to us by modern investigations and habits of thought, we weigh the testimony of the Jewish writers; but most of the more judicious of modern apologists, considering the extreme credulity of the Jewish people, decline to make the question simply one of evidence, and occupy themselves chiefly in endeavouring to show that miracles are possible, that those recorded in the Biblical narratives are related in such a manner, and are so interwoven with the texture of a simple and artless narrative, as to carry with them an internal proof of their reality; that they differ in kind from later miracles, and especially that the character and destinies of Christianity are such as to render its miraculous origin antecedently probable. But in the ages when the Roman Empire was chiefly converted, all sound and discriminating historical investigation of the evidence of the early miracles was impossible, nor was any large use made of those miracles as proofs of the religion. The rhetorician Arnobius is probably the only one of the early apologists who gives, among the evidences of the faith, any prominent place to the miracles of Christ.700 When evidential reasoning was employed, it was usually an appeal not to miracles, but to prophecy. But here again the opinions of the patristic age must be pronounced absolutely worthless. To prove that events had taken place in Judæa, accurately corresponding with the prophecies, or that the prophecies were themselves genuine, were both tasks far transcending the critical powers of the Roman converts. The wild extravagance of fantastic allegory, commonly connected with Origen, but which appears at a much earlier date in the writings of Justin Martyr and Irenæus, had thrown the interpretation of prophecy into hopeless confusion, while the deliberate and apparently perfectly unscrupulous forgery of a whole literature, destined to further the propagation either of Christianity as a whole, or of some particular class of tenets that had arisen within its border,701 made criticism at once pre-eminently difficult and necessary. A long series of oracles were cited, predicting in detail the sufferings of Christ. The prophecies forged by the Christians, and attributed by them to the heathen Sibyls, were accepted as genuine by the entire Church, and were continually appealed to as among the most powerful evidences of the faith. Justin Martyr declared that it was by the instigation of dæmons that it had been made a capital offence to read them.702 Clement of Alexandria preserved the tradition that St. Paul had urged the brethren to study them.703 Celsus designated the Christians Sibyllists, on account of the pertinacity with which they insisted upon them.704 Constantine the Great adduced them in a solemn speech before the Council of Nice.705 St. Augustine notices that the Greek word for a fish, which, containing the initial letters of the name and titles of Christ, had been adopted by the Early Church as its sacred symbol, contains also the initial letters of some prophetic lines ascribed to the Sibyl of Erythra.706 The Pagans, it is true, accused their opponents of having forged or interpolated these prophecies;707 but there was not a single Christian writer of the patristic period who disputed their authority, and there were very few even of the most illustrious who did not appeal to them. Unanimously admitted by the Church of the Fathers, they were unanimously admitted during the middle ages, and an allusion to them passed into the most beautiful lyric of the Missal. It was only at the period of the Reformation that the great but unhappy Castellio pointed out many passages in them which could not possibly be genuine. He was followed, in the first years of the seventeenth century, by a Jesuit named Possevin, who observed that the Sibyls were known to have lived at a later period than Moses, and that many passages in the Sibylline books purported to have been written before Moses. Those passages, therefore, he said, were interpolated; and he added, with a characteristic sagacity, that they had doubtless been inserted by Satan, for the purpose of throwing suspicion upon the books.708 It was in 1649 that a French Protestant minister, named Blondel, ventured for the first time in the Christian Church to denounce these writings as deliberate and clumsy forgeries, and after much angry controversy his sentiment has acquired an almost undisputed ascendancy in criticism.
But although the opinion of the Roman converts was extremely worthless, when dealing with past history or with literary criticism, there was one branch of miracles concerning which their position was somewhat different. Contemporary miracles, often of the most extraordinary character, but usually of the nature of visions, exorcisms, or healing the sick, were from the time of Justin Martyr uniformly represented by the Fathers as existing among them,709 and they continue steadily along the path of history, till in the pages of Evagrius and Theodoret, in the Lives of Hilarion and Paul, by St. Jerome, of Antony, by St. Athanasius, and of Gregory Thaumaturgus, by his namesake of Nyssa, and in the Dialogues of St. Gregory the Great, they attain as grotesque an extravagance as the wildest mediæval legends. Few things are more striking than the assertions hazarded on this matter by some of the ablest of the Fathers. Thus, St. Irenæus assures us that all Christians possessed the power of working miracles; that they prophesied, cast out devils, healed the sick, and sometimes even raised the dead; that some who had been thus resuscitated lived for many years among them, and that it would be impossible to reckon the wonderful acts that were daily performed.710 St. Epiphanius tells us that some rivers and fountains were annually transformed into wine, in attestation of the miracle of Cana; and he adds that he had himself drunk of one of these fountains, and his brethren of another.711 St. Augustine notices that miracles were less frequent and less widely known than formerly, but that many still occurred, and some of them he had himself witnessed. Whenever a miracle was reported, he ordered that a special examination into its circumstances should be made, and that the depositions of the witnesses should be read publicly to the people. He tells us, besides many other miracles, that Gamaliel in a dream revealed to a priest named Lucianus the place where the bones of St. Stephen were buried; that those bones, being thus discovered, were brought to Hippo, the diocese of which St. Augustine was bishop; that they raised five dead persons to life; and that, although only a portion of the miraculous cures they effected had been registered, the certificates drawn up in two years in the diocese, and by the orders of the saint, were nearly seventy. In the adjoining diocese of Calama they were incomparably more numerous.712 In the height of the great conflict between St. Ambrose and the Arian Empress Justina, the saint declared that it had been revealed to him by an irresistible presentiment—or, as St. Augustine, who was present on the occasion, says, in a dream—that relics were buried in a spot which he indicated. The earth being removed, a tomb was found filled with blood, and containing two gigantic skeletons, with their heads severed from their bodies, which were pronounced to be those of St. Gervasius and St. Protasius, two martyrs of remarkable physical dimensions, who were said to have suffered about 300 years before. To prove that they were genuine relics, the bones were brought in contact with a blind man, who was restored to sight, and with demoniacs, who were cured; the dæmons, however, in the first place, acknowledging that the relics were genuine; that St. Ambrose was the deadly enemy of the powers of hell; that the Trinitarian doctrine was true; and that those who rejected it would infallibly be damned. The next day St. Ambrose delivered an invective against all who questioned the miracle. St. Augustine recorded it in his works, and spread the worship of the saints through Africa. The transport of enthusiasm with which the miracles were greeted at Milan enabled St. Ambrose to overcome every obstacle; but the Arians treated them with a derisive incredulity, and declared that the pretended demoniacs had been bribed by the saint.713
Statements of this kind, which are selected from very many that are equally positive, though not equally precise, suggest veins of thought of obvious interest and importance. We are now, however, only concerned with the fact, that, with the exception of one or two isolated miracles, such as the last I have noticed, and of one class of miracles which I shall proceed to describe, these prodigies, whether true or false, were wrought for the exclusive edification of confirmed believers. The exceptional miracles were those of exorcism, which occupied a very singular position in the early Church. The belief that certain diseases were inflicted by Divine agency was familiar to the ancients, but among the early Greeks the notion of diabolical possession appears to have been unknown. A dæmon, in the philosophy of Plato, though inferior to a deity, was not an evil spirit, and it is extremely doubtful whether the existence of evil dæmons was known either to the Greeks or Romans till about the time of the advent of Christ.714 The belief was introduced with the Oriental superstitions which then poured into Rome, and it brought in its train the notions of possession and exorcism. The Jews, who in their own country appear to have regarded it as a most ordinary occurrence to meet men walking about visibly possessed by devils, and who professed to have learnt from Solomon the means of expelling them, soon became the principal exorcists, accomplishing their feats partly by adjuration, and partly by means of a certain miraculous root named Baaras. Josephus assures us that he had himself, in the reign of Vespasian, seen a Jew named Eleazar drawing by these means a dæmon through the nostrils of a possessed person, who fell to the ground on the accomplishment of the miracle; while, upon the command of the magician, the devil, to prove that it had really left his victim, threw down a cup of water which had been placed at a distance.715 The growth of Neoplatonism and kindred philosophies greatly strengthened the belief, and some of the later philosophers, as well as many religious charlatans, practised exorcism. But, of all classes, the Christians became in this respect the most famous. From the time of Justin Martyr, for about two centuries, there is, I believe, not a single Christian writer who does not solemnly and explicitly assert the reality and frequent employment of this power;716 and although, after the Council of Laodicea, the instances became less numerous, they by no means ceased. The Christians fully recognised the supernatural power possessed by the Jewish and Gentile exorcists, but they claimed to be in many respects their superiors. By the simple sign of the cross, or by repeating the name of their Master, they professed to be able to cast out devils which had resisted all the enchantments of Pagan exorcists, to silence the oracles, to compel the dæmons to confess the truth of the Christian faith. Sometimes their power extended still further. Dæmons, we are told, were accustomed to enter into animals, and these also were expelled by the Christian adjuration. St. Jerome, in his “Life of St. Hilarion,” has given us a graphic account of the courage with which that saint confronted, and the success with which he relieved, a possessed camel.717 In the reign of Julian, the very bones of the martyr Babylas were sufficient to silence the oracle of Daphne; and when, amid the triumphant chants of the Christians, the relics, by the command of Julian, were removed, the lightning descended from heaven and consumed the temple.718 St. Gregory Thaumaturgus having expelled the dæmons from an idol temple, the priest, finding his means of subsistence destroyed, came to the saint, imploring him to permit the oracles to be renewed. St. Gregory, who was then on his journey, wrote a note containing the words “Satan, return,” which was immediately obeyed, and the priest, awe-struck by the miracle, was converted to Christianity.719 Tertullian, writing to the Pagans in a time of persecution, in language of the most deliberate earnestness, challenges his opponents to bring forth any person who is possessed by a dæmon or any of those virgins or prophets who are supposed to be inspired by a divinity. He asserts that, in reply to the interrogation of any Christian, the dæmons will be compelled to confess their diabolical character; he invites the Pagans, if it be otherwise, to put the Christian immediately to death; and he proposes this as at once the simplest and most decisive demonstration of the faith.720 Justin Martyr,721 Origen,722 Lactantius,723 Athanasius,724 and Minucius Felix,725 all in language equally solemn and explicit, call upon the Pagans to form their opinions from the confessions wrung from their own gods. We hear from them, that when a Christian began to pray, to make the sign of the cross, or to utter the name of his Master in the presence of a possessed or inspired person, the latter, by screams and frightful contortions, exhibited the torture that was inflicted, and by this torture the evil spirit was compelled to avow its nature. Several of the Christian writers declare that this was generally known to the Pagans. In one respect, it was observed, the miracle of exorcism was especially available for evidential purposes; for, as dæmons would not expel dæmons, it was the only miracle which was necessarily divine.
It would be curious to examine the manner in which the challenge was received by the Pagan writers; but unhappily, the writings which were directed against the faith having been destroyed by the Christian emperors, our means of information on this point are very scanty. Some information, however, we possess, and it would appear to show that, among the educated classes at least, these phenomena did not extort any great admiration. The eloquent silence about diabolical possession observed by the early philosophers, when discussing such questions as the nature of the soul and of the spiritual world, decisively show that in their time possession had not assumed any great prominence or acquired any general credence. Plutarch, who admitted the reality of evil dæmons, and who was the most strenuous defender of the oracles, treats the whole class of superstitions to which exorcism belongs with much contempt.726 Marcus Aurelius, in recounting the benefits he had received from different persons with whom he had been connected, acknowledges his debt of gratitude to the philosopher Diognetus for having taught him to give no credence to magicians, jugglers, and expellers of dæmons.727 Lucian declares that every cunning juggler could make his fortune by going over to the Christians and preying upon their simplicity.728 Celsus described the Christians as jugglers performing their tricks among the young and the credulous.729 The most decisive evidence, however, we possess, is a law of Ulpian, directed, it is thought, against the Christians, which condemns those “who use incantations or imprecations, or (to employ the common word of impostors) exorcisms.”730 Modern criticism has noted a few facts which may throw some light upon this obscure subject. It has been observed that the symptoms of possession were for the most part identical with those of lunacy or epilepsy; that it is quite possible that the excitement of an imposing religious ceremony might produce or suspend the disorder; that leading questions might in these cases be followed by the desired answers; and that some passages from the Fathers show that the exorcisms were not always successful, or the cures always permanent. It has been observed, too, that at first the power of exorcism was open to all Christians without restraint; that this licence, in an age when religious jugglers were very common, and in a Church whose members were very credulous, gave great facilities to impostors; that when the Laodicean Council, in the fourth century, forbade any one to exorcise, except those who were duly authorised by the bishop, these miracles speedily declined; and that, in the very beginning of the fifth century, a physician named Posidonius denied the existence of possession.731
To sum up this whole subject, we may conclude that what is called the evidential system had no prominent place in effecting the conversion of the Roman Empire. Historical criticisms were far too imperfect to make appeals to the miracles of former days of any value, and the notion of the wide diffusion of miraculous or magical powers, as well as the generally private character of the alleged miracles of the Patristic age, made contemporary wonders very unimpressive. The prophecies attributed to the Sibyls, and the practice of exorcism, had, however, a certain weight; for the first were connected with a religious authority, long and deeply revered at Rome, and the second had been forced by several circumstances into great prominence. But the effect even of these may be safely regarded as altogether subsidiary, and the main causes of the conversion must be looked for in another and a wider sphere.
These causes were the general tendencies of the age. They are to be found in that vast movement of mingled scepticism and credulity, in that amalgamation or dissolution of many creeds, in that profound transformation of habits, of feelings, and of ideals, which I have attempted to paint in the last chapter. Under circumstances more favourable to religious proselytism than the world had ever before known, with the path cleared by a long course of destructive criticism, the religions and philosophies of mankind were struggling for the mastery in that great metropolis where all were amply represented, and in which alone the destinies of the world could be decided. Among the educated a frigid Stoicism, teaching a majestic but unattainable grandeur, and scorning the support of the affections, the hope of another world, and the consolations of worship, had for a time been in the ascendant, and it only terminated its noble and most fruitful career when it had become manifestly inadequate to the religious wants of the age. Among other classes, religion after religion ran its conquering course. The Jews, although a number of causes had made them the most hated of all the Roman subjects, and although their religion, from its intensely national character, seemed peculiarly unsuited for proselytism, had yet, by the force of their monotheism, their charity, and their exorcisms, spread the creed of Moses far and wide. The Empress Poppæa is said to have been a proselyte. The passion of Roman women for Jewish rites was one of the complaints of Juvenal. The Sabbath and the Jewish fasts became familiar facts in all the great cities, and the antiquity of the Jewish law the subject of eager discussion. Other Oriental religions were even more successful. The worship of Mithra, and, above all, of the Egyptian divinities, attracted their thousands, and during more than three centuries the Roman writings are crowded with allusions to their progress. The mysteries of the Bona Dea,732 the solemn worship of Isis, the expiatory rites that cleansed the guilty soul, excited a very delirium of enthusiasm. Juvenal describes the Roman women, at the dawn of the winter day, breaking the ice of the Tiber to plunge three times into its sacred stream, dragging themselves on bleeding knees in penance around the field of Tarquin, offering to undertake pilgrimages to Egypt to seek the holy water for the shrine of Isis, fondly dreaming that they had heard the voice of the goddess.733 Apuleius has drawn a graphic picture of the solemn majesty of her processions, and the spell they cast upon the most licentious and the most sceptical.734 Commodus, Caracalla, and Heliogabalus were passionately devoted to them.735 The temples of Isis and Serapis, and the statues of Mithra, are among the last prominent works of Roman art. In all other forms the same credulity was manifested. The oracles that had been silent were heard again; the astrologers swarmed in every city; the philosophers were surrounded with an atmosphere of legend; the Pythagorean school had raised credulity into a system. On all sides, and to a degree unparalleled in history, we find men who were no longer satisfied with their old local religion, thirsting for belief, passionately and restlessly seeking for a new faith.
In the midst of this movement, Christianity gained its ascendancy, and we can be at no loss to discover the cause of its triumph. No other religion, under such circumstances, had ever combined so many distinct elements of power and attraction. Unlike the Jewish religion, it was bound by no local ties, and was equally adapted for every nation and for every class. Unlike Stoicism, it appealed in the strongest manner to the affections, and offered all the charm of a sympathetic worship. Unlike the Egyptian religions, it united with its distinctive teaching a pure and noble system of ethics, and proved itself capable of realising it in action. It proclaimed, amid a vast movement of social and national amalgamation, the universal brotherhood of mankind. Amid the softening influence of philosophy and civilisation, it taught the supreme sanctity of love. To the slave, who had never before exercised so large an influence over Roman religious life, it was the religion of the suffering and the oppressed. To the philosopher it was at once the echo of the highest ethics of the later Stoics, and the expansion of the best teaching of the school of Plato. To a world thirsting for prodigy, it offered a history replete with wonders more strange that those of Apollonius; while the Jew and the Chaldean could scarcely rival its exorcists, and the legends of continual miracles circulated among its followers. To a world deeply conscious of political dissolution, and prying eagerly and anxiously into the future, it proclaimed with a thrilling power the immediate destruction of the globe—the glory of all its friends, and the damnation of all its foes. To a world that had grown very weary gazing on the cold and passionless grandeur which Cato realised, and which Lucan sung, it presented an ideal of compassion and of love—a Teacher who could weep by the sepulchre of His friend, who was touched with the feeling of our infirmities. To a world, in fine, distracted by hostile creeds and colliding philosophies, it taught its doctrines, not as a human speculation, but as a Divine revelation, authenticated much less by reason than by faith. “With the heart man believeth unto righteousness;” “He that doeth the will of my Father will know the doctrine, whether it be of God;” “Unless you believe you cannot understand;” “A heart naturally Christian;” “The heart makes the theologian,” are the phrases which best express the first action of Christianity upon the world. Like all great religions, it was more concerned with modes of feeling than with modes of thought. The chief cause of its success was the congruity of its teaching with the spiritual nature of mankind. It was because it was true to the moral sentiments of the age, because it represented faithfully the supreme type of excellence to which men were then tending, because it corresponded with their religious wants, aims, and emotions, because the whole spiritual being could then expand and expatiate under its influence, that it planted its roots so deeply in the hearts of men.
To all these elements of attraction, others of a different order must be added. Christianity was not merely a moral influence, or a system of opinions, or an historical record, or a collection of wonder-working men; it was also an institution definitely, elaborately, and skilfully organised, possessing a weight and a stability which isolated or undisciplined teachers could never rival, and evoking, to a degree before unexampled in the world, an enthusiastic devotion to its corporate welfare, analogous to that of the patriot to his country. The many forms of Pagan worship were pliant in their nature. Each offered certain advantages or spiritual gratifications; but there was no reason why all should not exist together, and participation in one by no means implied disrespect to the others. But Christianity was emphatically exclusive; its adherent was bound to detest and abjure the faiths around him as the workmanship of dæmons, and to consider himself placed in the world to destroy them. Hence there sprang a stern, aggressive, and at the same time disciplined enthusiasm, wholly unlike any other that had been witnessed upon earth. The duties of public worship; the sacraments, which were represented as the oaths of the Christian warrior; the fasts and penances and commemorative days, which strengthened the Church feeling; the intervention of religion in the most solemn epochs of life, conspired to sustain it. Above all, the doctrine of salvation by belief, which then for the first time flashed upon the world; the persuasion, realised with all the vividness of novelty, that Christianity opened out to its votaries eternal happiness, while all beyond its pale were doomed to an eternity of torture, supplied a motive of action as powerful as it is perhaps possible to conceive. It struck alike the coarsest chords of hope and fear, and the finest chords of compassion and love. The polytheist, admitting that Christianity might possibly be true, was led by a mere calculation of prudence to embrace it, and the fervent Christian would shrink from no suffering to draw those whom he loved within its pale. Nor were other inducements wanting. To the confessor was granted in the Church a great and venerable authority, such as the bishop could scarcely claim.736 To the martyr, besides the fruition of heaven, belonged the highest glory on earth. By winning that bloodstained crown, the meanest Christian slave might gain a reputation as glorious as that of a Decius or a Regulus. His body was laid to rest with a sumptuous splendour;737 his relics, embalmed or shrined, were venerated with an almost idolatrous homage. The anniversary of his birth into another life was commemorated in the Church, and before the great assembly of the saints his heroic sufferings were recounted.738 How, indeed, should he not be envied? He had passed away into eternal bliss. He had left upon earth an abiding name. By the “baptism of blood” the sins of a life had been in a moment effaced.
Those who are accustomed to recognise heroic enthusiasm as a normal product of certain natural conditions, will have no difficulty in understanding that, under such circumstances as I have described, a transcendent courage should have been evoked. Men seemed indeed to be in love with death. Believing, with St. Ignatius, that they were “the wheat of God,” they panted for the day when they should be “ground by the teeth of wild beasts into the pure bread of Christ!” Beneath this one burning enthusiasm all the ties of earthly love were snapt in twain. Origen, when a boy, being restrained by force from going forth to deliver himself up to the persecutors, wrote to his imprisoned father, imploring him not to let any thought of his family intervene to quench his resolution or to deter him from sealing his faith with his blood. St. Perpetua, an only daughter, a young mother of twenty-two, had embraced the Christian creed, confessed it before her judges, and declared herself ready to endure for it the martyr’s death. Again and again her father came to her in a paroxysm of agony, entreating her not to deprive him of the joy and the consolation of his closing years. He appealed to her by the memory of all the tenderness he had lavished upon her—by her infant child—by his own gray hairs, that were soon to be brought down in sorrow to the grave. Forgetting in his deep anguish all the dignity of a parent, he fell upon his knees before his child, covered her hands with kisses, and, with tears streaming from his eyes, implored her to have mercy upon him. But she was unshaken though not untouched; she saw her father, frenzied with grief, dragged from before the tribunal; she saw him tearing his white beard, and lying prostrate and broken-hearted on the prison floor; she went forth to die for a faith she loved more dearly—for a faith that told her that her father would be lost for ever.739 The desire for martyrdom became at times a form of absolute madness, a kind of epidemic of suicide, and the leading minds of the Church found it necessary to exert all their authority to prevent their followers from thrusting themselves into the hands of the persecutors.740 Tertullian mentions how, in a little Asiatic town, the entire population once flocked to the proconsul, declaring themselves to be Christians, and imploring him to execute the decree of the emperor and grant them the privilege of martyrdom. The bewildered functionary asked them whether, if they were so weary of life, there were no precipices or ropes by which they could end their days; and he put to death a small number of the suppliants, and dismissed the others.741 Two illustrious Pagan moralists and one profane Pagan satirist have noticed this passion with a most unpleasing scorn. “There are some,” said Epictetus, “whom madness, there are others, like the Galilæans, whom custom, makes indifferent to death.”742 “What mind,” said Marcus Aurelius, “is prepared, if need be, to go forth from the body, whether it be to be extinguished, or to be dispersed, or to endure?—prepared by deliberate reflection, and not by pure obstinacy, as is the custom of the Christians.”743 “These wretches,” said Lucian, speaking of the Christians, “persuade themselves that they are going to be altogether immortal, and to live for ever; wherefore they despise death, and many of their own accord give themselves up to be slain.”744
“I send against you men who are as greedy of death as you are of pleasures,” were the words which, in after days, the Mohammedan chief addressed to the degenerate Christians of Syria, and which were at once the presage and the explanation of his triumph. Such words might with equal propriety have been employed by the early Christian leaders to their Pagan adversaries. The zeal of the Christians and of the Pagans differed alike in degree and in kind. When Constantine made Christianity the religion of the State, it is probable that its adherents were but a minority in Rome. Even in the days of Theodosius the senate was still wedded to Paganism;745 yet the measures of Constantine were both natural and necessary. The majority were without inflexible belief, without moral enthusiasm, without definite organisation, without any of those principles that inspire the heroism either of resistance or aggression. The minority formed a serried phalanx, animated by every motive that could purify, discipline, and sustain their zeal. When once the Christians had acquired a considerable position, the question of their destiny was a simple one. They must either be crushed or they must reign. The failure of the persecution of Diocletian conducted them inevitably to the throne.
It may indeed be confidently asserted that the conversion of the Roman Empire is so far from being of the nature of a miracle or suspension of the ordinary principles of human nature, that there is scarcely any other great movement on record in which the causes and effects so manifestly correspond. The apparent anomalies of history are not inconsiderable, but they must be sought for in other quarters. That within the narrow limits and scanty population of the Greek States should have arisen men who, in almost every conceivable form of genius, in philosophy, in epic, dramatic and lyric poetry, in written and spoken eloquence, in statesmanship, in sculpture, in painting, and probably also in music, should have attained almost or altogether the highest limits of human perfection—that the creed of Mohammed should have preserved its pure monotheism and its freedom from all idolatrous tendencies, when adopted by vast populations in that intellectual condition in which, under all other creeds, a gross and material worship has proved inevitable, both these are facts which we can only very imperfectly explain. Considerations of climate, and still more of political, social, and intellectual customs and institutions, may palliate the first difficulty, and the attitude Mohammed assumed to art may supply us with a partial explanation of the second; but I suppose that, after all has been said, most persons will feel that they are in presence of phenomena very exceptional and astonishing. The first rise of Christianity in Judæa is a subject wholly apart from this book. We are examining only the subsequent movement in the Roman Empire. Of this movement it may be boldly asserted that the assumption of a moral or intellectual miracle is utterly gratuitous. Never before was a religious transformation so manifestly inevitable. No other religion ever combined so many forms of attraction as Christianity, both from its intrinsic excellence, and from its manifest adaptation to the special wants of the time. One great cause of its success was that it produced more heroic actions and formed more upright men than any other creed; but that it should do so was precisely what might have been expected.
To these reasonings, however, those who maintain that the triumph of Christianity in Rome is naturally inexplicable, reply by pointing to the persecutions which Christianity had to encounter. As this subject is one on which many misconceptions exist, and as it is of extreme importance on account of its connection with later persecutions, it will be necessary briefly to discuss it.
It is manifest that the reasons that may induce a ruler to suppress by force some forms of religious worship or opinion, are very various. He may do so on moral grounds, because they directly or indirectly produce immorality; or on religious grounds, because he believes them to be offensive to the Deity; or on political grounds, because they are injurious either to the State or to the Government; or on corrupt grounds, because he desires to gratify some vindictive or avaricious passion. From the simple fact, therefore, of a religious persecution we cannot at once infer the principles of the persecutor, but must examine in detail by which of the above motives, or by what combination of them, he has been actuated.
Now, the persecution which has taken place at the instigation of the Christian priests differs in some respects broadly from all others. It has been far more sustained, systematic, and unflinching. It has been directed not merely against acts of worship, but also against speculative opinions. It has been supported not merely as a right, but also as a duty. It has been advocated in a whole literature of theology, by the classes that are especially devout, and by the most opposing sects, and it has invariably declined in conjunction with a large portion of theological dogmas.
I have elsewhere examined in great detail the history of persecutions by Christians, and have endeavoured to show that, while exceptional causes have undoubtedly occasionally occurred, they were, in the overwhelming majority of cases, simply the natural, legitimate, and inevitable consequence of a certain portion of the received theology. That portion is the doctrine that correct theological opinions are essential to salvation, and that theological error necessarily involves guilt. To these two opinions may be distinctly traced almost all the sufferings that Christian persecutors have caused, almost all the obstructions they have thrown in the path of human progress; and those sufferings have been so grievous that it may be reasonably questioned whether superstition has not often proved a greater curse than vice, and that obstruction was so pertinacious, that the contraction of theological influence has been at once the best measure, and the essential condition of intellectual advance. The notion that he might himself be possibly mistaken in his opinions, which alone could cause a man who was thoroughly imbued with these principles to shrink from persecuting, was excluded by the theological virtue of faith, which, whatever else it might involve, implied at least an absolute unbroken certainty, and led the devotee to regard all doubt, and therefore all action based upon doubt, as sin.
To this general cause of Christian persecution I have shown that two subsidiary influences may be joined. A large portion of theological ethics was derived from writings in which religious massacres, on the whole the most ruthless and sanguinary upon record, were said to have been directly enjoined by the Deity, in which the duty of suppressing idolatry by force was given a greater prominence than any article of the moral code, and in which the spirit of intolerance has found its most eloquent and most passionate expressions.746 Besides this, the destiny theologians represented as awaiting the misbeliever was so ghastly and so appalling as to render it almost childish to lay any stress upon the earthly suffering that might be inflicted in the extirpation of error.
That these are the true causes of the great bulk of Christian persecution, I believe to be one of the most certain as well as one of the most important facts in history. For the detailed proof I can only refer to what I have elsewhere written; but I may here notice that that proof combines every conceivable kind of evidence that in such a question can be demanded. It can be shown that these principles would naturally lead men to persecute. It can be shown that from the time of Constantine to the time when the rationalistic spirit wrested the bloodstained sword from the priestly hand, persecution was uniformly defended upon them—defended in long, learned, and elaborate treatises, by the best and greatest men the Church had produced, by sects that differed on almost all other points, by multitudes who proved in every conceivable manner the purity of their zeal. It can be shown, too, that toleration began with the distinction between fundamental and non-fundamental doctrines, expanded in exact proportion to the growing latitudinarianism, and triumphed only when indifference to dogma had become a prevailing sentiment among legislators. It was only when the battle had been won—when the anti-dogmatic party, acting in opposition to the Church, had rendered persecution impossible—that the great body of theologians revised their arguments, and discovered that to punish men for their opinions was wholly at variance with their faith. With the merits of this pleasing though somewhat tardy conversion I am not now concerned; but few persons, I think, can follow the history of Christian persecution without a feeling of extreme astonishment that some modern writers, not content with maintaining that the doctrine of exclusive salvation ought not to have produced persecution, have ventured, in defiance of the unanimous testimony of the theologians of so many centuries, to dispute the plain historical fact that it did produce it. They argue that the Pagans, who did not believe in exclusive salvation, persecuted, and that therefore that doctrine cannot be the cause of persecution. The answer is that no sane man ever maintained that all the persecutions on record were from the same source. We can prove by the clearest evidence that Christian persecutions sprang chiefly from the causes I have alleged. The causes of Pagan persecutions, though different, are equally manifest, and I shall proceed shortly to indicate them.
They were partly political and partly religious. The Governments in most of the ancient States, in the earlier stages of their existence, undertook the complete education of the people; professed to control and regulate all the details of their social life, even to the dresses they wore, or the dishes that were served upon their tables; and, in a word, to mould their whole lives and characters into a uniform type. Hence, all organisations and corporations not connected with the State, and especially all that emanated from foreign countries, were looked upon with distrust or antipathy. But this antipathy was greatly strengthened by a religious consideration. No belief was more deeply rooted in the ancient mind than that good or bad fortune sprang from the intervention of spiritual beings, and that to neglect the sacred rites was to bring down calamity upon the city. In the diminutive Greek States, where the function of the Government was immensely enlarged, a strong intolerance existed, which extended for some time not merely to practices, but to writings and discourses. The well-known persecutions of Anaxagoras, Theodorus, Diagoras, Stilpo, and Socrates; the laws of Plato, which were as opposed to religious as to domestic freedom; and the existence in Athens of an inquisitorial tribunal,747 sufficiently attested it. But long before the final ruin of Greece, speculative liberty had been fully attained. The Epicurean and the Sceptical schools developed unmolested, and even in the days of Socrates, Aristophanes was able to ridicule the gods upon the stage.
In the earlier days of Rome religion was looked upon as a function of the State; its chief object was to make the gods auspicious to the national policy,748 and its principal ceremonies were performed at the direct command of the Senate. The national theory on religious matters was that the best religion is always that of a man’s own country. At the same time, the widest tolerance was granted to the religions of conquered nations. The temples of every god were respected by the Roman army. Before besieging a city, the Romans were accustomed to supplicate the presiding deities of that city. With the single exception of the Druids, whose human sacrifices it was thought a matter of humanity to suppress,749 and whose fierce rebellions it was thought necessary to crush, the teachers of all national religions continued unmolested by the conqueror.
This policy, however, applied specially to religious rites practised in the countries in which they were indigenous. The liberty to be granted to the vast confluence of strangers attracted to Italy during the Empire was another question. In the old Republican days, when the censors regulated with the most despotic authority the minutest affairs of life, and when the national religion was interwoven with every detail of political and even domestic transactions, but little liberty could be expected. When Carneades endeavoured to inculcate his universal scepticism upon the Romans, by arguing alternately for and against the same proposition, Cato immediately urged the Senate to expel him from the city, lest the people should be corrupted by his teaching.750 For a similar reason all rhetoricians had been banished from the Republic.751 The most remarkable, however, and at the same time the extreme expression of Roman intolerance that has descended to us, is the advice which Mæcenas is represented as having given to Octavius Cæsar, before his accession to the throne. “Always,” he said, “and everywhere, worship the gods according to the rites of your country, and compel others to the same worship. Pursue with your hatred and with punishments those who introduce foreign religions, not only for the sake of the gods—the despisers of whom can assuredly never do anything great—but also because they who introduce new divinities entice many to use foreign laws. Hence arise conspiracies, societies, and assemblies, things very unsuited to an homogeneous empire. Tolerate no despiser of the gods, and no religious juggler. Divination is necessary, and therefore let the aruspices and augurs by all means be sustained, and let those who will, consult them; but the magicians must be utterly prohibited, who, though they sometimes tell the truth, more frequently, by false promises, urge men on to conspiracies.”752
This striking passage exhibits very clearly the extent to which in some minds the intolerant spirit was carried in antiquity, and also the blending motives that produced it. We should be, however, widely mistaken if we regarded it as a picture of the actual religious policy of the Empire. In order to realise this, it will be necessary to notice separately liberty of speculation and liberty of worship.
When Asinius Pollio founded the first public library in Rome, he placed it in the Temple of Liberty. The lesson which was thus taught to the literary classes was never forgotten. It is probable that in no other period of the history of the world was speculative freedom so perfect as in the Roman Empire. The fearless scrutiny of all notions of popular belief, displayed in the writings of Cicero, Seneca, Lucretius, or Lucian, did not excite an effort of repression. Philosophers were, indeed, persecuted by Domitian and Vespasian for their ardent opposition to the despotism of the throne,753 but on their own subjects they were wholly untrammelled. The Greek writers consoled themselves for the extinction of the independence of their country by the reflection that in the sphere of intellect the meddling policy of the Greek States was replaced by an absolute and a majestic freedom.754 The fierceness of the opposition of sects faded beneath its influence. Of all the speculative conflicts of antiquity, that which most nearly approached the virulence of later theological controversies was probably that between the Stoics and the Epicureans; but it is well worthy of notice that some of the most emphatic testimonies to the moral goodness of Epicurus have come from the writings of his opponents.
But the policy of the Roman rulers towards religious rites was very different from, and would at first sight appear to be in direct opposition to, their policy towards opinions. An old law, which Cicero mentions, expressly forbade the introduction of new religions,755 and in the Republican days and the earliest days of the Empire there are many instances of its being enforced. Thus, in a.u.c. 326, a severe drought having led men to seek help from new gods, the Senate charged the ædiles to allow none but Roman deities to be worshipped.756 Lutatius, soon after the first Punic war, was forbidden by the Senate to consult foreign gods, “because,” said the historian, “it was deemed right the Republic should be administered according to the national auspices, and not according to those of other lands.”757 During the second Punic war, a severe edict of the Senate enjoined the suppression of certain recent innovations.758 About a.u.c. 615 the prætor Hispalus exiled those who had introduced the worship of the Sabasian Jupiter.759 The rites of Bacchus, being accompanied by gross and scandalous obscenity, were suppressed, the consul, in a remarkable speech, calling upon the people to revive the religious policy of their ancestors.760 The worship of Isis and Serapis only gained its footing after a long struggle, and no small amount of persecution. The gross immorality it sometimes favoured, its wild and abject superstition, so thoroughly alien to the whole character of Roman life and tradition, and also the organisation of its priesthood, rendered it peculiarly obnoxious to the Government. When the first edict of suppression was issued, the people hesitated to destroy a temple which seemed so venerable in their eyes, and the consul Æmilius Paulus dispelled their fears by seizing an axe and striking the first blow himself.761 During the latter days of the Republic, edicts had commanded the destruction of the Egyptian temples. Octavius, however, in his younger days, favoured the new worship, but, soon after, it was again suppressed.762 Under Tiberius it had once more crept in; but the priests of Isis having enabled a patrician named Mundus to disguise himself as the god Anubis, and win the favours of a devout worshipper, the temple, by order of the emperor, was destroyed, the images were thrown into the Tiber, the priests were crucified, and the seducer was banished.763 Under the same emperor four thousand persons were exiled to Sardinia, as affected with Jewish and Egyptian superstitions. They were commissioned to repress robbers; but it was at the same time added, with a characteristic scorn, that if they died through the unhealthiness of the climate, it would be but a “small loss.”764
These measures represent together a considerable amount of religious repression, but they were produced exclusively by notions of policy or discipline. They grew out of that intense national spirit which sacrificed every other interest to the State, and resisted every form of innovation, whether secular or religious, that could impair the unity of the national type, and dissolve the discipline which the predominance of the military spirit and the stern government of the Republic had formed. They were also, in some cases, the result of moral scandals. When, however, it became evident that the internal condition of the Republic was unsuited for the Empire, the rulers frankly acquiesced in the change, and from the time of Tiberius, with the single exception of the Christians, perfect liberty of worship seems to have been granted to the professors of all religions in Rome.765 The old law upon the subject was not revoked, but it was not generally enforced. Sometimes the new creeds were expressly authorised. Sometimes they were tacitly permitted. With a single exception, all the religions of the world raised their heads unmolested in the “Holy City.”766
The liberty, however, of professing and practising a foreign worship did not dispense the Roman from the obligation of performing also the sacrifices or other religious rites of his own land. It was here that whatever religious fanaticism mingled with Pagan persecutions was displayed. Eusebius tells us that religion was divided by the Romans into three parts—the mythology, or legends that had descended from the poets; the interpretations or theories by which the philosophers endeavoured to rationalise, filter, or explain away these legends; and the ritual or official religious observances. In the first two spheres perfect liberty was accorded, but the ritual was placed under the control of the Government, and was made a matter of compulsion.767 In order to realise the strength of the feeling that supported it, we must remember that the multitude firmly believed that the prosperity and adversity of the Empire depended chiefly upon the zeal or indifference that was shown in conciliating the national divinities, and also that the philosophers, as I have noticed in the last chapter, for the most part not only practised, but warmly defended, the official observances. The love of truth in many forms was exhibited among the Pagan philosophers to a degree which has never been surpassed; but there was one form in which it was absolutely unknown. The belief that it is wrong for a man in religious matters to act a lie, to sanction by his presence and by his example what he regards as baseless superstitions, had no place in the ethics of antiquity. The religious flexibility which polytheism had originally generated, the strong political feeling that pervaded all classes, and also the manifest impossibility of making philosophy the creed of the ignorant, had rendered nearly universal among philosophers a state of feeling which is often exhibited, but rarely openly professed, among ourselves.768 The religious opinions of men had but little influence on their religious practices, and the sceptic considered it not merely lawful, but a duty, to attend the observances of his country. No one did more to scatter the ancient superstitions than Cicero, who was himself an augur, and who strongly asserted the duty of complying with the national rites.769 Seneca, having recounted in the most derisive terms the absurdities of the popular worship, concludes his enumeration by declaring that “the sage will observe all these things, not as pleasing to the Divinities, but as commanded by the law,” and that he should remember “that his worship is due to custom, not to belief.”770 Epictetus, whose austere creed rises to the purest monotheism, teaches as a fundamental religious maxim that every man in his devotions should “conform to the customs of his country.”771 The Jews and Christians, who alone refused to do so, were the representatives of a moral principle that was unknown to the Pagan world.
It should be remembered, too, that the Oriental custom of deifying emperors having been introduced into Rome, to burn incense before their statues had become a kind of test of loyalty. This adoration does not, it is true, appear to have implied any particular article of belief, and it was probably regarded by most men as we regard the application of the term “Sacred Majesty” to a sovereign, and the custom of kneeling in his presence; but it was esteemed inconsistent with Christianity, and the conscientious refusal of the Christians to comply with it aroused a feeling resembling that which was long produced in Christendom by the refusal of Quakers to comply with the usages of courts.
The obligation to perform the sacred rites of an idolatrous worship, if rigidly enforced, would have amounted, in the case of the Jews and the Christians, to a complete proscription. It does not, however, appear that the Jews were ever persecuted on this ground. They formed a large and influential colony in Rome. They retained undiminished, in the midst of the Pagan population, their exclusive habits, refusing not merely all religious communion, but most social intercourse with the idolaters, occupying a separate quarter of the city, and sedulously practising their distinctive rites. Tiberius, as we have seen, appears to have involved them in his proscription of Egyptian superstitions; but they were usually perfectly unmolested, or were molested only when their riotous conduct had attracted the attention of the rulers. The Government was so far from compelling them to perform acts contrary to their religion, that Augustus expressly changed the day of the distribution of corn, in order that they might not be reduced to the alternative of forfeiting their share, or of breaking the Sabbath.772
It appears, then, that the old Republican intolerance had in the Empire been so modified as almost to have disappeared. The liberty of speculation and discussion was entirely unchecked. The liberty of practising foreign religious rites, though ostensibly limited by the law against unauthorised religions, was after Tiberius equally secure. The liberty of abstaining from the official national rites, though more precarious, was fully conceded to the Jews, whose jealousy of idolatry was in no degree inferior to that of the Christians. It remains, then, to examine what were the causes of the very exceptional fanaticism and animosity that were directed against the latter.
The first cause of the persecution of the Christians was the religious notion to which I have already referred. The belief that our world is governed by isolated acts of Divine intervention, and that, in consequence, every great calamity, whether physical, or military, or political, may be regarded as a punishment or a warning, was the basis of the whole religious system of antiquity.773 In the days of the Republic every famine, pestilence, or drought was followed by a searching investigation of the sacred rites, to ascertain what irregularity or neglect had caused the Divine anger, and two instances are recorded in which vestal virgins were put to death because their unchastity was believed to have provoked a national calamity.774 It might appear at first sight that the fanaticism which this belief would naturally produce would have been directed against the Jews as strongly as against the Christians; but a moment’s reflection is sufficient to explain the difference. The Jewish religion was essentially conservative and unexpansive. Although, in the passion for Oriental religions, many of the Romans had begun to practise its ceremonies, there was no spirit of proselytism in the sect; and it is probable that almost all who followed this religion, to the exclusion of others, were of Hebrew nationality. The Christians, on the other hand, were ardent missionaries; they were, for the most part, Romans who had thrown off the allegiance of their old gods, and their activity was so great that from a very early period the temples were in some districts almost deserted.775 Besides this, the Jews simply abstained from and despised the religions around them. The Christians denounced them as the worship of dæmons, and lost no opportunity of insulting them. It is not, therefore, surprising that the populace should have been firmly convinced that every great catastrophe that occurred was due to the presence of the enemies of the gods. “If the Tiber ascends to the walls,” says Tertullian, “or if the Nile does not overflow the fields, if the heaven refuses its rain, if the earth quakes, if famine and pestilence desolate the land, immediately the cry is raised, ‘The Christians to the lions!’”776 “There is no rain—the Christians are the cause,” had become a popular proverb in Rome.777 Earthquakes, which, on account of their peculiarly appalling, and, to ignorant men, mysterious nature, have played a very large part in the history of superstition, were frequent and terrible in the Asiatic provinces, and in three or four instances the persecution of the Christians may be distinctly traced to the fanaticism they produced.
There is no part of ecclesiastical history more curious than the effects of this belief in alternately assisting or impeding the progress of different Churches. In the first three centuries of Christian history, it was the cause of fearful sufferings to the faith; but even then the Christians usually accepted the theory of their adversaries, though they differed concerning its application. Tertullian and Cyprian strongly maintained, sometimes that the calamities were due to the anger of the Almighty against idolatry, sometimes that they were intended to avenge the persecution of the truth. A collection was early made of men who, having been hostile to the Christian faith, had died by some horrible death, and their deaths were pronounced to be Divine punishments.778 The victory which established the power of the first Christian emperor, and the sudden death of Arius, were afterwards accepted as decisive proofs of the truth of Christianity, and of the falsehood of Arianism.779 But soon the manifest signs of the dissolution of the Empire revived the zeal of the Pagans, who began to reproach themselves for their ingratitude to their old gods, and who recognised in the calamities of their country the vengeance of an insulted Heaven. When the altar of Victory was removed contemptuously from the Senate, when the sacred college of the vestals was suppressed, when, above all, the armies of Alaric encircled the Imperial city, angry murmurs arose which disturbed the Christians in their triumph. The standing-point of the theologians was then somewhat altered. St. Ambrose dissected with the most unsparing rationalism the theory that ascribed the national decline to the suppression of the vestals, traced it to all its consequences, and exposed all its absurdities. Orosius wrote his history to prove that great misfortunes had befallen the Empire before its conversion. Salvian wrote his treatise on Providence to prove that the barbarian invasions were a Divine judgment on the immorality of the Christians. St. Augustine concentrated all his genius on a great work, written under the impression of the invasion of Alaric, and intended to prove that “the city of God” was not on earth, and that the downfall of the Empire need therefore cause no disquietude to the Christians. St. Gregory the Great continually represented the calamities of Italy as warnings foreboding the destruction of the world. When Rome sank finally before the barbarian hosts, it would seem as though the doctrine that temporal success was the proof of Divine favour must be finally abandoned. But the Christian clergy disengaged their cause from that of the ruined Empire, proclaimed its downfall to be a fulfilment of prophecy and a Divine judgment, confronted the barbarian conquerors in all the majesty of their sacred office, and overawed them in the very moment of their victory. In the conversion of the uncivilised tribes, the doctrine of special intervention occupied a commanding place. The Burgundians, when defeated by the Huns, resolved, as a last resource, to place themselves under the protection of the Roman God whom they vaguely believed to be the most powerful, and the whole nation in consequence embraced Christianity.780 In a critical moment of a great battle, Clovis invoked the assistance of the God of his wife. The battle was won, and he, with many thousands of Franks, was converted to the faith.781 In England, the conversion of Northumbria was partly, and the conversion of Mercia was mainly, due to the belief that the Divine interposition had secured the victory of a Christian king.782 A Bulgarian prince was driven into the Church by the terror of a pestilence, and he speedily effected the conversion of his subjects.783 The destruction of so many shrines, and the defeat of so many Christian armies, by the followers of Mohammed; the disastrous and ignominious overthrow of the Crusaders, who went forth protected by all the blessings of the Church, were unable to impair the belief. All through the middle ages, and for some centuries after the middle ages had passed, every startling catastrophe was regarded as a punishment, or a warning, or a sign of the approaching termination of the world. Churches and monasteries were built. Religious societies were founded. Penances were performed. Jews were massacred, and a long catalogue might be given of the theories by which men attempted to connect every vicissitude of fortune, and every convulsion of nature, with the wranglings of theologians. Thus, to give but a few examples: St. Ambrose confidently asserted that the death of Maximus was a consequence of the crime he had committed in compelling the Christians to rebuild a Jewish synagogue they had destroyed.784 One of the laws in the Justinian code, directed against the Jews, Samaritans, and Pagans, expressly attributes to them the sterility of the soil, which in an earlier age the Pagans had so often attributed to the Christians.785 A volcanic eruption that broke out at the commencement of the iconoclastic persecution was adduced as a clear proof that the Divine anger was aroused, according to one party, by the hostility of the emperor to the sacred images; according to the other party, by his sinful hesitation in extirpating idolatry.786 Bodin, in a later age, considered that the early death of the sovereign who commanded the massacre of St. Bartholomew was due to what he deemed the master crime of that sovereign’s reign. He had spared the life of a famous sorcerer.787 In the struggles that followed the Reformation, physical calamities were continually ascribed in one age to the toleration, in another to the endowment, of either heresy or Popery.788 Sometimes, however, they were traced to the theatre, and sometimes to the writings of freethinkers. But gradually, and almost insensibly, these notions faded away. The old language is often heard, but it is no longer realised and operative, and the doctrine which played so large a part in the history of the world has ceased to exercise any appreciable influence upon the actions of mankind.
In addition to this religious motive, which acted chiefly upon the vulgar, there was a political motive which rendered Christianity obnoxious to the educated. The Church constituted a vast, highly organised, and in many respects secret society, and as such was not only distinctly illegal, but was also in the very highest degree calculated to excite the apprehensions of the Government. There was no principle in the Imperial policy more stubbornly upheld than the suppression of all corporations that might be made the nuclei of revolt. The extent to which this policy was carried is strikingly evinced by a letter from Trajan to Pliny, in which the emperor forbade the formation even of a guild of firemen, on the ground that they would constitute an association and hold meetings.789 In such a state of feeling, the existence of a vast association, governed by countless functionaries, shrouding its meetings and some of its doctrines in impenetrable obscurity, evoking a degree of attachment and devotion greater than could be elicited by the State, ramifying through the whole extent of the empire, and restlessly extending its influence, would naturally arouse the strongest apprehension. That it did so is clearly recognised by the Christian apologists, who, however, justly retorted upon the objectors the impossibility of showing a single instance in which, in an age of continual conspiracies, the numerous and persecuted Christians had proved disloyal. Whatever we may think of their doctrine of passive obedience, it is impossible not to admire the constancy with which they clung to it, when all their interests were the other way. But yet the Pagans were not altogether wrong in regarding the new association as fatal to the greatness of the Empire. It consisted of men who regarded the Roman Empire as a manifestation of Antichrist, and who looked forward with passionate longing to its destruction. It substituted a new enthusiasm for that patriotism which was the very life-blood of the national existence. Many of the Christians deemed it wrong to fight for their country. All of them aspired to a type of character, and were actuated by hopes and motives, wholly inconsistent with that proud martial ardour by which the triumphs of Rome had been won, and by which alone her impending ruin could be averted.
The aims and principles of this association were very imperfectly understood. The greatest and best of the Pagans spoke of it as a hateful superstition, and the phrase they most frequently reiterated, when speaking of its members, was “enemies” or “haters of the human race.” Such a charge, directed persistently against men whose main principle was the supreme excellence of love, and whose charity unquestionably rose far above that of any other class, was probably due in the first place to the unsocial habits of the converts, who deemed it necessary to abstain from all the forms of public amusement, to refuse to illuminate their houses, or hang garlands from their portals in honour of the national triumphs, and who somewhat ostentatiously exhibited themselves as separate and alien from their countrymen. It may also have arisen from a knowledge of the popular Christian doctrine about the future destiny of Pagans. When the Roman learnt what fate the Christian assigned to the heroes and sages of his nation, and to the immense mass of his living fellow-countrymen, when he was told that the destruction of the once glorious Empire to which he belonged was one of the most fervent aspirations of the Church, his feelings were very likely to clothe themselves in such language as I have cited.
But, in addition to the general charges, specific accusations790 of the grossest kind were directed against Christian morals. At a time when the moral standard was very low, they were charged with deeds so atrocious as to scandalise the most corrupt. They were represented as habitually, in their secret assemblies, celebrating the most licentious orgies, feeding on human flesh, and then, the lights having been extinguished, indulging in promiscuous, and especially in incestuous, intercourse. The persistence with which these accusations were made is shown by the great prominence they occupy, both in the writings of the apologists and in the narrations of the persecutions. That these charges were absolutely false will now be questioned by no one. The Fathers were long able to challenge their adversaries to produce a single instance in which any other crime than his faith was proved against a martyr, and they urged with a just and noble pride that whatever doubt there might be of the truth of the Christian doctrines, or of the Divine origin of the Christian miracles, there was at least no doubt that Christianity had transformed the characters of multitudes, vivified the cold heart by a new enthusiasm, redeemed, regenerated, and emancipated the most depraved of mankind. Noble lives, crowned by heroic deaths, were the best arguments of the infant Church.791 Their enemies themselves not unfrequently acknowledged it. The love shown by the early Christians to their suffering brethren has never been more emphatically attested than by Lucian,792 or the beautiful simplicity of their worship than by Pliny,793 or their ardent charity than by Julian.794 There was, it is true, another side to the picture; but even when the moral standard of Christians was greatly lowered, it was lowered only to that of the community about them.
These calumnies were greatly encouraged by the ecclesiastical rule, which withheld from the unbaptised all knowledge of some of the more mysterious doctrines of the Church, and veiled, at least, one of its ceremonies in great obscurity. Vague rumours about the nature of that sacramental feast, to which none but the baptised Christian was suffered to penetrate, and which no ecclesiastic was permitted to explain either to the catechumens or to the world, were probably the origin of the charge of cannibalism; while the Agapæ or love feasts, the ceremony of the kiss of love, and the peculiar and, to the Pagans, perhaps unintelligible, language in which the Christians proclaimed themselves one body and fellow-members in Christ, may have suggested the other charges. The eager credulity with which equally baseless accusations against the Jews were for centuries believed, illustrates the readiness with which they were accepted, and the extremely imperfect system of police which rendered the verification of secret crimes very difficult, had no doubt greatly enlarged the sphere of calumny. But, in addition to these considerations, the orthodox were in some respects exceedingly unfortunate. In the eyes of the Pagans they were regarded as a sect of Jews; and the Jews, on account of their continual riots, their inextinguishable hatred of the Gentile world,795 and the atrocities that frequently accompanied their rebellions, had early excited the anger and the contempt of the Pagans. On the other hand, the Jew, who deemed the abandonment of the law the most heinous of crimes, and whose patriotism only shone with a fiercer flame amid the calamities of his nation, regarded the Christian with an implacable hostility. Scorned or hated by those around him, his temple levelled with the dust, and the last vestige of his independence destroyed, he clung with a desperate tenacity to the hopes and privileges of his ancient creed. In his eyes the Christians were at once apostates and traitors. He could not forget that in the last dark hour of his country’s agony, when the armies of the Gentile encompassed Jerusalem, and when the hosts of the faithful flocked to its defence, the Christian Jews had abandoned the fortunes of their race, and refused to bear any part in the heroism and the sufferings of the closing scene. They had proclaimed that the promised Messiah, who was to restore the faded glories of Israel, had already come; that the privileges which were so long the monopoly of a single people had passed to the Gentile world; that the race which was once supremely blest was for all future time to be accursed among mankind. It is not, therefore, surprising that there should have arisen between the two creeds an animosity which Paganism could never rival. While the Christians viewed with too much exultation the calamities that fell upon the prostrate people,796 whose cup of bitterness they were destined through long centuries to fill to the brim, the Jews laboured with unwearied hatred to foment by calumnies the passions of the Pagan multitude.797 On the other hand, the Catholic Christians showed themselves extremely willing to draw down the sword of the persecutor upon the heretical sects. When the Pagans accused the Christians of indulging in orgies of gross licentiousness, the first apologist, while repudiating the charge, was careful to add, of the heretics, “Whether or not these people commit those shameful and fabulous acts, the putting out the lights, indulging in promiscuous intercourse, and eating human flesh, I know not.”798 In a few years the language of doubt and insinuation was exchanged for that of direct assertion; and, if we may believe St. Irenæus and St. Clement of Alexandria, the followers of Carpocrates, the Marcionites, and some other Gnostic sects, habitually indulged, in their secret meetings, in acts of impurity and licentiousness as hideous and as monstrous as can be conceived, and their conduct was one of the causes of the persecution of the orthodox.799 Even the most extravagant charges of the Pagan populace were reiterated by the Fathers in their accusations of the Gnostics. St. Epiphanius, in the fourth century, assures us that some of their sects were accustomed to kill, to dress with spices, and to eat the children born of their promiscuous intercourse.800 The heretics, in their turn, gladly accused the Catholics;801 while the Roman judge, in whose eyes Judaism, orthodox Christianity, and heresy were but slightly differing modifications of one despicable superstition, doubtless found in this interchange of accusations a corroboration of his prejudices.
Another cause of the peculiar animosity felt against the Christians was the constant interference with domestic life, arising from the great number of female conversions. The Christian teacher was early noted for his unrivalled skill in playing on the chords of a woman’s heart.802 The graphic title of “Earpicker of ladies,”803 which was given to a seductive pontiff of a somewhat later period, might have been applied to many in the days of the persecution; and to the Roman, who regarded the supreme authority of the head of the family, in all religious matters, as the very foundation of domestic morality, no character could appear more infamous or more revolting. “A wife,” said Plutarch, expressing the deepest conviction of the Pagan world, “should have no friends but those of her husband; and, as the gods are the first of friends, she should know no gods but those whom her husband adores. Let her shut the door, then, against idle religions and foreign superstitions. No god can take pleasure in sacrifices offered by a wife without the knowledge of her husband.”804 But these principles, upon which the whole social system of Paganism had rested, were now disregarded. Wives in multitudes deserted their homes to frequent the nocturnal meetings805 of a sect which was looked upon with the deepest suspicion, and was placed under the ban of the law. Again and again, the husband, as he laid his head on the pillow by his wife, had the bitterness of thinking that all her sympathies were withdrawn from him; that her affections belonged to an alien priesthood and to a foreign creed; that, though she might discharge her duties with a gentle and uncomplaining fidelity, he had for ever lost the power of touching her heart—he was to her only as an outcast, as a brand prepared for the burning. Even to a Christian mind there is a deep pathos in the picture which St. Augustine has drawn of the broken-hearted husband imploring the assistance of the gods, and receiving from the oracle the bitter answer: “You may more easily write in enduring characters on the wave, or fly with feathers through the air, than purge the mind of a woman when once tainted by the superstition.”806
I have already noticed the prominence which the practice of exorcism had acquired in the early Church, the contempt with which it was regarded by the more philosophic Pagans, and the law which had been directed against its professors. It is not, however, probable that this practice, though it lowered the Christians in the eyes of the educated as much as it elevated them in the eyes of the populace, had any appreciable influence in provoking persecution. In the crowd of superstitions that were invading the Roman Empire, exorcism had a prominent place; all such practices were popular with the masses; the only form of magic which under the Empire was seriously persecuted was political astrology or divination with a view to discovering the successors to the throne, and of this the Christians were never accused.807 There was, however, another form of what was deemed superstition connected with the Church, which was regarded by Pagan philosophers with a much deeper feeling of aversion. To agitate the minds of men with religious terrorism, to fill the unknown world with hideous images of suffering, to govern the reason by alarming the imagination, was in the eyes of the Pagan world one of the most heinous of crimes.808 These fears were to the ancients the very definition of superstition, and their destruction was a main object both of the Epicurean and of the Stoic. To men holding such sentiments, it is easy to perceive how obnoxious must have appeared religious teachers who maintained that an eternity of torture was reserved for the entire human race then existing in the world, beyond the range of their own community, and who made the assertion of this doctrine one of their main instruments of success.809 Enquiry, among the early theologians, was much less valued than belief,810 and reason was less appealed to than fear. In philosophy the most comprehensive, but in theology the most intolerant, system is naturally the strongest. To weak women, to the young, the ignorant, and the timid, to all, in a word, who were doubtful of their own judgment, the doctrine of exclusive salvation must have come with an appalling power; and, as no other religion professed it, it supplied the Church with an invaluable vantage-ground, and doubtless drove multitudes into its pale. To this doctrine we may also, in a great degree, ascribe the agony of terror that was so often displayed by the apostate, whose flesh shrank from the present torture, but who was convinced that the weakness he could not overcome would be expiated by an eternity of torment.811 To the indignation excited by such teaching was probably due a law of Marcus Aurelius, which decreed that “if any one shall do anything whereby the weak minds of any may be terrified by superstitious fear, the offender shall be exiled into an island.”812
There can, indeed, be little doubt that a chief cause of the hostility felt against the Christian Church was the intolerant aspect it at that time displayed. The Romans were prepared to tolerate almost any form of religion that would tolerate others. The Jews, though quite as obstinate as the Christians in refusing to sacrifice to the emperor, were rarely molested, except in the periods immediately following their insurrections, because Judaism, however exclusive and unsocial, was still an unaggressive national faith. But the Christian teachers taught that all religions, except their own and that of the Jews, were constructed by devils, and that all who dissented from their Church must be lost. It was impossible that men strung to the very highest pitch of religious excitement, and imagining they saw in every ceremony and oracle the direct working of a present dæmon, could restrain their zeal, or respect in any degree the feelings of others. Proselytising with an untiring energy, pouring a fierce stream of invective and ridicule upon the gods on whose favour the multitude believed all national prosperity to depend, not unfrequently insulting the worshippers, and defacing the idols,813 they soon stung the Pagan devotees to madness, and convinced them that every calamity that fell upon the empire was the righteous vengeance of the gods. Nor was the sceptical politician more likely to regard with favour a religion whose development was plainly incompatible with the whole religious policy of the Empire. The new Church, as it was then organised, must have appeared to him essentially, fundamentally, necessarily intolerant. To permit it to triumph was to permit the extinction of religious liberty in an empire which comprised all the leading nations of the world, and tolerated all their creeds. It was indeed true that in the days of their distress the apologists proclaimed, in high and eloquent language, the iniquity of persecution, and the priceless value of a free worship; but it needed no great sagacity to perceive that the language of the dominant Church would be very different. The Pagan philosopher could not foresee the ghastly histories of the Inquisition, of the Albigenses, or of St. Bartholomew; but he could scarcely doubt that the Christians, when in the ascendant, would never tolerate rites which they believed to be consecrated to devils, or restrain, in the season of their power, a religious animosity which they scarcely bridled when they were weak. It needed no prophetic inspiration to anticipate the time, that so speedily arrived, when, amid the wailings of the worshippers, the idols and the temples were shattered, and when all who practised the religious ceremonies of their forefathers were subject to the penalty of death.
There has probably never existed upon earth a community whose members were bound to one another by a deeper or a purer affection than the Christians, in the days of the persecution. There has probably never existed a community which exhibited in its dealings with crime a gentler or more judicious kindness, which combined more happily an unflinching opposition to sin with a boundless charity to the sinner, and which was in consequence more successful in reclaiming and transforming the most vicious of mankind. There has, however, also never existed a community which displayed more clearly the intolerance that would necessarily follow its triumph. Very early tradition has related three anecdotes of the apostle John which illustrate faithfully this triple aspect of the Church. It is said that when the assemblies of the Christians thronged around him to hear some exhortation from his lips, the only words he would utter were, “My little children, love one another;” for in this, he said, is comprised the entire law. It is said that a young man he had once confided to the charge of a bishop, having fallen into the ways of vice, and become the captain of a band of robbers, the apostle, on hearing of it, bitterly reproached the negligence of the pastor, and, though in extreme old age, betook himself to the mountains till he had been captured by the robbers, when, falling with tears on the neck of the chief, he restored him to the path of virtue. It is said that the same apostle, once seeing the heretic Cerinthus in an establishment of baths into which he had entered, immediately rushed forth, fearing lest the roof should fall because a heretic was beneath it.814 All that fierce hatred which during the Arian and Donatist controversies convulsed the Empire, and which in later times has deluged the world with blood, may be traced in the Church long before the conversion of Constantine. Already, in the second century, it was the rule that the orthodox Christian should hold no conversation, should interchange none of the most ordinary courtesies of life, with the excommunicated or the heretic.815 Common sufferings were impotent to assuage the animosity, and the purest and fondest relations of life were polluted by the new intolerance. The Decian persecution had scarcely closed, when St. Cyprian wrote his treatise to maintain that it is no more possible to be saved beyond the limits of the Church, than it was during the deluge beyond the limits of the ark; that martyrdom itself has no power to efface the guilt of schism; and that the heretic, who for his master’s cause expired in tortures upon the earth, passed at once, by that master’s decree, into an eternity of torment in hell!816 Even in the arena the Catholic martyrs withdrew from the Montanists, lest they should be mingled with the heretics in death.817 At a later period St. Augustine relates that, when he was a Manichean, his mother for a time refused even to eat at the same table with her erring child.818 When St. Ambrose not only defended the act of a Christian bishop, who had burnt down a synagogue of the Jews, but denounced as a deadly crime the decree of the Government which ordered it to be rebuilt;819 when the same saint, in advocating the plunder of the vestal virgins, maintained the doctrine that it is criminal for a Christian State to grant any endowment to the ministers of any religion but his own,820 which it has needed all the efforts of modern liberalism to efface from legislation, he was but following in the traces of those earlier Christians, who would not even wear a laurel crown,821 or join in the most innocent civic festival, lest they should appear in some indirect way to be acquiescing in the Pagan worship. While the apologists were maintaining against the Pagan persecutors the duty of tolerance, the Sibylline books, which were the popular literature of the Christians, were filled with passionate anticipations of the violent destruction of the Pagan temples.822 And no sooner had Christianity mounted the throne than the policy they foreshadowed became ascendant. The indifference or worldly sagacity of some of the rulers, and the imposing number of the Pagans, delayed, no doubt, the final consummation; but, from the time of Constantine, restrictive laws were put in force, the influence of the ecclesiastics was ceaselessly exerted in their favour, and no sagacious man could fail to anticipate the speedy and absolute proscription of the Pagan worship. It is related of the philosopher Antoninus, the son of the Pagan prophetess Sospitra, that, standing one day with his disciples before that noble temple of Serapis, at Alexandria, which was one of the wonders of ancient art, and which was destined soon after to perish by the rude hands of the Christian monks, the prophetic spirit of his mother fell upon him. Like another prophet before another shrine, he appalled his hearers by the prediction of the approaching ruin. The time would come, he said, when the glorious edifice before them would be overthrown, the carved images would be defaced, the temples of the gods would be turned into the sepulchres of the dead, and a great darkness would fall upon mankind!823
And, besides the liberty of worship, the liberty of thought and of expression, which was the supreme attainment of Roman civilisation, was in peril. The new religion, unlike that which was disappearing, claimed to dictate the opinions as well as the actions of men, and its teachers stigmatised as an atrocious crime the free expression of every opinion on religious matters diverging from their own. Of all the forms of liberty, it was this which lasted the longest, and was the most dearly prized. Even after Constantine, the Pagans Libanius, Themistius, Symmachus, and Sallust enforced their views with a freedom that contrasts remarkably with the restraints imposed upon their worship, and the beautiful friendships of St. Basil and Libanius, of Synesius and Hypatia, are among the most touching episodes of their time. But though the traditions of Pagan freedom, and the true catholicism of Justin Martyr and Origen, lingered long, it was inevitable that error, being deemed criminal, should be made penal. The dogmatism of Athanasius and Augustine, the increasing power of the clergy, and the fanaticism of the monks, hastened the end. The suppression of all religions but one by Theodosius, the murder of Hypatia at Alexandria by the monks of Cyril, and the closing by Justinian of the schools of Athens, are the three events which mark the decisive overthrow of intellectual freedom. A thousand years had rolled away before that freedom was in part restored.
The considerations I have briefly enumerated should not in the smallest degree detract from the admiration due to the surpassing courage, to the pure, touching, and sacred virtues of the Christian martyrs; but they in some degree palliate the conduct of the persecutors, among whom must be included one emperor, who was probably, on the whole, the best and most humane sovereign who has ever sat upon a throne, and at least two others, who were considerably above the average of virtue. When, combined with the indifference to human suffering, the thirst for blood, which the spectacles of the amphitheatre had engendered, they assuredly make the persecutions abundantly explicable. They show that if it can be proved that Christian persecutions sprang from the doctrine of exclusive salvation, the fact that the Roman Pagans, who did not hold that doctrine, also persecuted, need not cause the slightest perplexity. That the persecutions of Christianity by the Roman emperors, severe as they undoubtedly were, were not of such a continuous nature as wholly to counteract the vast moral, social, and intellectual agencies that were favourable to its spread, a few dates will show.
We have seen that when the Egyptian rites were introduced into Rome, they were met by prompt and energetic measures of repression; that these measures were again and again repeated, but that at last, when they proved ineffectual, the governors desisted from their opposition, and the new worship assumed a recognised place. The history of Christianity, in its relation to the Government, is the reverse of this. Its first introduction into Rome appears to have been altogether unopposed. Tertullian asserts that Tiberius, on the ground of a report from Pontius Pilate, desired to enrol Christ among the Roman gods, but that the Senate rejected the proposal; but this assertion, which is altogether unsupported by trustworthy evidence, and is, intrinsically, extremely improbable, is now generally recognised as false.824 An isolated passage of Suetonius states that in the time of Claudius “the Jews, being continually rioting, at the instigation of a certain Chrestus,”825 were expelled from the city; but no Christian writer speaks of his co-religionists being disturbed in this reign, while all, with a perfect unanimity, and with great emphasis, describe Nero as the first persecutor. His persecution began at the close of a.d. 64.826 It was directed against Christians, not ostensibly on the ground of their religion, but because they were falsely accused of having set fire to Rome, and it is very doubtful whether it extended beyond the city.827 It had also this peculiarity, that, being directed against the Christians not as Christians, but as incendiaries, it was impossible to escape from it by apostasy. Within the walls of Rome it raged with great fury. The Christians, who had been for many years828 proselytising without restraint in the great confluence of nations, and amid the disintegration of old beliefs, had become a formidable body. They were, we learn from Tacitus, profoundly unpopular; but the hideous tortures to which Nero subjected them, and the conviction that, whatever other crimes they might have committed, they were not guilty of setting fire to the city, awoke general pity. Some of them, clad in skins of wild beasts, were torn by dogs. Others, arrayed in shirts of pitch, were burnt alive in Nero’s garden.829 Others were affixed to crosses. Great multitudes perished. The deep impression the persecution made on the Christian mind is shown in the whole literature of the Sibyls, which arose soon after, in which Nero is usually the central figure, and by the belief, that lingered for centuries, that the tyrant was yet alive, and would return once more as the immediate precursor of Antichrist, to inflict the last great persecution upon the Church.830
Nero died a.d. 68. From that time, for at least twenty-seven years, the Church enjoyed absolute repose. There is no credible evidence whatever of the smallest interference with its freedom till the last year of the reign of Domitian; and a striking illustration of the fearlessness with which it exhibited itself to the world has been lately furnished in the discovery, near Rome, of a large and handsome porch leading to a Christian catacomb, built above ground between the reigns of Nero and Domitian, in the immediate neighbourhood of one of the principal highways.831 The long reign of Domitian, though it may have been surpassed in ferocity, was never surpassed in the Roman annals in the skilfulness and the persistence of its tyranny. The Stoics and literary classes, who upheld the traditions of political freedom, and who had already suffered much at the hands of Vespasian, were persecuted with relentless animosity. Metius Modestus, Arulenus Rusticus, Senecio, Helvidius, Dion Chrysostom, the younger Priscus, Junius Mauricus, Artemidorus, Euphrates, Epictetus, Arria, Fannia, and Gratilla were either killed or banished.832 No measures, however, appear to have been taken against the Christians till a.d. 95, when a short and apparently not very severe persecution, concerning which our information is both scanty and conflicting, was directed against them. Of the special cause that produced it we are left in much doubt. Eusebius mentions, on the not very trustworthy authority of Hegesippus, that the emperor, having heard of the existence of the grandchildren of Judas, the brother of Christ, ordered them to be brought before him, as being of the family of David, and therefore possible pretenders to the throne; but on finding that they were simple peasants, and that the promised kingdom of which they spoke was a spiritual one, he dismissed them in peace, and arrested the persecution he had begun.833 A Pagan historian states that, the finances of the Empire being exhausted by lavish expenditure in public games, Domitian, in order to replenish his exchequer, resorted to a severe and special taxation of the Jews; that some of these, in order to evade the impost, concealed their worship, while others, who are supposed to have been Christians, are described as following the Jewish rites without being professed Jews.834 Perhaps, however, the simplest explanation is the truest, and the persecution may be ascribed to the antipathy which a despot like Domitian must necessarily have felt to an institution which, though it did not, like Stoicism, resist his policy, at least exercised a vast influence altogether removed from his control. St. John, who was then a very old man, is said to have been at this time exiled to Patmos. Flavius Clemens, a consul, and a relative of the emperor, was put to death. His wife, or, according to another account, his niece Domitilla, was banished, according to one account, to the island of Pontia, according to another, to the island of Pandataria, and many others were compelled to accompany her into exile.835 Numbers, we are told, “accused of conversion to impiety or Jewish rites,” were condemned. Some were killed, and others deprived of their offices.836 Of the cessation of the persecution there are two different versions. Tertullian837 and Eusebius838 say that the tyrant speedily revoked his edict, and restored those who had been banished; but according to Lactantius these measures were not taken till after the death of Domitian,839 and this latter statement is corroborated by the assertion of Dion Cassius, that Nerva, upon his accession, “absolved those who were accused of impiety, and recalled the exiles.”840
When we consider the very short time during which this persecution lasted, and the very slight notice that was taken of it, we may fairly, I think, conclude that it was not of a nature to check in any appreciable degree a strong religious movement like that of Christianity. The assassination of Domitian introduces us to the golden age of the Roman Empire. In the eyes of the Pagan historian, the period from the accession of Nerva, in a.d. 96, to the death of Marcus Aurelius, in a.d. 180, is memorable as a period of uniform good government, of rapidly advancing humanity, of great legislative reforms, and of a peace which was very rarely seriously broken. To the Christian historian it is still more remarkable, as one of the most critical periods in the history of his faith. The Church entered into it considerable indeed, as a sect, but not large enough to be reckoned an important power in the Empire. It emerged from it so increased in its numbers, and so extended in its ramifications, that it might fairly defy the most formidable assaults. It remains, therefore, to be seen whether the opposition against which, during these eighty-four years, it had so successfully struggled was of such a kind and intensity that the triumph must be regarded as a miracle.
Nearly at the close of this period, during the persecution of Marcus Aurelius, St. Melito, Bishop of Sardis, wrote a letter of expostulation to the emperor, in which he explicitly asserts that in Asia the persecution of the pious was an event which “had never before occurred,” and was the result of “new and strange decrees;” that the ancestors of the emperor were accustomed to honour the Christian faith “like other religions;” and that “Nero and Domitian alone” had been hostile to it.841 Rather more than twenty years later, Tertullian asserted, in language equally distinct and emphatic, that the two persecutors of the Christians were Nero and Domitian, and that it would be impossible to name a single good sovereign who had molested them. Marcus Aurelius himself, Tertullian refuses to number among the persecutors, and, even relying upon a letter which was falsely imputed to him, enrols him among the protectors of the Church.842 About a century later, Lactantius, reviewing the history of the persecutions, declared that the good sovereigns who followed Domitian abstained from persecuting, and passes at once from the persecution of Domitian to that of Decius. Having noticed the measures of the former emperor, he proceeds: “The acts of the tyrant being revoked, the Church was not only restored to its former state, but shone forth with a greater splendour and luxuriance; and a period following in which many good sovereigns wielded the Imperial sceptre, it suffered no assaults from its enemies, but stretched out its hands to the east and to the west;... but at last the long peace was broken. After many years, that hateful monster Decius arose, who troubled the Church.”843
We have here three separate passages, from which we may conclusively infer that the normal and habitual condition of the Christians during the eighty-four years we are considering, and, if we accept the last two passages, during a much longer period, was a condition of peace, but that peace was not absolutely unbroken. The Christian Church, which was at first regarded simply as a branch of Judaism, had begun to be recognised as a separate body, and the Roman law professedly tolerated only those religions which were expressly authorised. It is indeed true that with the extension of the Empire, and especially of the city, the theory, or at least the practice, of religious legislation had been profoundly modified. First of all, certain religions, of which the Jewish was one, were officially recognised, and then many others, without being expressly authorised, were tolerated. In this manner, all attempts to resist the torrent of Oriental superstitions proving vain, the legislator had desisted from his efforts, and every form of wild superstition was practised with publicity and impunity. Still the laws forbidding them were unrevoked, although they were suffered to remain for the most part obsolete, or were at least only put in action on the occasion of some special scandal, or of some real or apprehended political danger. The municipal and provincial independence under the Empire was, however, so large, that very much depended on the character of the local governor; and it continually happened that in one province the Christians were unmolested or favoured, while in the adjoining province they were severely persecuted.
As we have already seen, the Christians had for many reasons become profoundly obnoxious to the people. They shared the unpopularity of the Jews, with whom they were confounded, while the general credence given to the calumnies about the crimes said to have been perpetrated at their secret meetings, their abstinence from public amusements, and the belief that their hostility to the gods was the cause of every physical calamity, were special causes of antipathy. The history of the period of the Antonines continually manifests the desire of the populace to persecute, restrained by the humanity of the rulers. In the short reign of Nerva there appears to have been no persecution, and our knowledge of the official proceedings with reference to the religion is comprised in two sentences of a Pagan historian, who tells us that the emperor “absolved those who had been convicted of impiety,” and “permitted no one to be convicted of impiety or Jewish rites.” Under Trajan, however, some serious though purely local disturbances took place. The emperor himself, though one of the most sagacious, and in most respects humane of Roman sovereigns, was nervously jealous of any societies or associations among his subjects, and had propounded a special edict against them; but the persecution of the Christians appears to have been not so much political as popular. If we may believe Eusebius, local persecutions, apparently of the nature of riots, but sometimes countenanced by provincial governors, broke out in several quarters of the Empire. In Bithynia, Pliny the Younger was the governor, and he wrote a very famous letter to Trajan, in which he professed himself absolutely ignorant of the proceedings to be taken against the Christians, who had already so multiplied that the temples were deserted, and who were arraigned in great numbers before his tribunal. He had, he says, released those who consented to burn incense before the image of the emperor, and to curse Christ, but had caused those to be executed who persisted in their refusal, and who were not Roman citizens, “not doubting that a pertinacious obstinacy deserved punishment.” He had questioned the prisoners as to the nature of their faith, and had not hesitated to seek revelations by torturing two maid-servants, but had “discovered nothing but a base and immoderate superstition.” He had asked the nature of their secret services, and had been told that they assembled on a certain day before dawn to sing a hymn to Christ as to a god; that they made a vow to abstain from every crime, and that they then, before parting, partook together of a harmless feast, which, however, they had given up since the decree against associations. To this letter Trajan answered that Christians, if brought before the tribunals and convicted, should be punished, but that they should not be sought for; that, if they consented to sacrifice, no inquisition should be made into their past lives, and that no anonymous accusations should be received against them.844 In this reign there are two authentic instances of martyrdom.845 Simeon, Bishop of Jerusalem, a man, it is said, one hundred and twenty years old, having been accused by the heretics, was tortured during several days, and at last crucified. Ignatius, the Bishop of Antioch, was arrested, brought to Rome, and, by the order of Trajan himself, thrown to wild beasts. Of the cause of this last act of severity we are left in ignorance, but it has been noticed that about this time Antioch had been the scene of one of those violent earthquakes which so frequently produced an outburst of religious excitement,846 and the character of Ignatius, who was passionately desirous of martyrdom, may have very probably led him to some act of exceptional zeal. The letters of the martyr prove that at Rome the faith was openly and fearlessly professed; the Government during the nineteen years of this reign never appears to have taken any initiative against the Christians, and, in spite of occasional local tumults, there was nothing resembling a general persecution.
During the two following reigns, the Government was more decidedly favourable to the Christians. Hadrian, having heard that the populace at the public games frequently called for their execution, issued an edict in which he commanded that none should be punished simply in obedience to the outcries against them, or without a formal trial and a conviction of some offence against the law, and he ordered that all false accusers should be punished.847 His disposition towards the Christians was so pacific as to give rise to a legend that he intended to enrol Christ among the gods;848 but it is probable that, although curious on religious matters, he regarded Christianity with the indifference of a Roman freethinker; and a letter is ascribed to him in which he confounded it with the worship of Serapis.849 As far as the Government were concerned, the Christians appear to have been entirely unmolested; but many of them suffered dreadful tortures at the hands of the Jewish insurgents, who in this reign, with a desperate but ill-fated heroism, made one last effort to regain their freedom.850 The mutual hostility exhibited at this time by the Jews and Christians contributed to separate them in the eyes of the Pagans, and it is said that when Hadrian forbade the Jews ever again to enter Jerusalem, he recognised the distinction by granting a full permission to the Christians.851
Antoninus, who succeeded Hadrian, made new efforts to restrain the passions of the people against the Christians. He issued an edict commanding that they should not be molested, and when, as a consequence of some earthquakes in Asia Minor, the popular anger was fiercely roused, he commanded that their accusers should be punished.852 If we except these riots, the twenty-three years of his reign appear to have been years of absolute peace, which seems also to have continued during several years of the reign of Marcus Aurelius; but at last persecuting edicts, of the exact nature of which we have no knowledge, were issued. Of the reasons which induced one of the best men who have ever reigned to persecute the Christians, we know little or nothing. That it was not any ferocity of disposition or any impatience of resistance may be confidently asserted of one whose only fault was a somewhat excessive gentleness—who, on the death of his wife, asked the Senate, as a single favour, to console him by sparing the lives of those who had rebelled against him. That it was not, as has been strangely urged, a religious fanaticism resembling that which led St. Lewis to persecute, is equally plain. St. Lewis persecuted because he believed that to reject his religious opinions was a heinous crime, and that heresy was the path to hell. Marcus Aurelius had no such belief, and he, the first Roman emperor who made the Stoical philosophy his religion and his comfort, was also the first emperor who endowed the professors of the philosophies that were most hostile to his own. The fact that the Christian Church, existing as a State within a State, with government, ideals, enthusiasms, and hopes wholly different from those of the nation, was incompatible with the existing system of the Empire, had become more evident as the Church increased. The accusations of cannibalism and incestuous impurity had acquired a greater consistency, and the latter are said to have been justly applicable to the Carpocratian heretics, who had recently arisen. The Stoicism of Marcus Aurelius may have revolted from the practices of exorcism or the appeals to the terrors of another world, and the philosophers who surrounded him probably stimulated his hostility, for his master and friend Fronto had written a book against Christianity,853 while Justin Martyr is said to have perished by the machinations of the Cynic Crescens.854 It must be added, too, that, while it is impossible to acquit the emperor of having issued severe edicts against the Christians,855 the atrocious details of the persecutions in his reign were due to the ferocity of the populace and the weakness of the governors in distant provinces; and it is inconceivable that, if he had been a very bitter enemy of the Christians, Tertullian, writing little more than twenty years later, should have been so ignorant of the fact as to represent him as one of the most conspicuous of their protectors.
But, whatever may be thought on these points, there can, unhappily, be no question that in this reign Rome was stained by the blood of Justin Martyr, the first philosopher, and one of the purest and gentlest natures in the Church, and that persecution was widely extended. In two far distant quarters, at Smyrna and at Lyons, it far exceeded in atrocity any that Christianity had endured since Nero, and in each case a heroism of the most transcendent order was displayed by the martyrs. The persecution at Smyrna, in which St. Polycarp and many others most nobly died, took place on the occasion of the public games, and we may trace the influence of the Jews in stimulating it.856 The persecution at Lyons, which was one of the most atrocious in the whole compass of ecclesiastical history, and which has supplied the martyrology with some of its grandest and most pathetic figures, derived its worst features from a combination of the fury of the populace and of the subserviency of the governor.857 Certain servants of the Christians, terrified by the prospect of torture, accused their masters of all the crimes which popular report attributed to them, of incest, of infanticide, of cannibalism, of hideous impurity. A fearful outburst of ferocity ensued. Tortures almost too horrible to recount were for hours and even days applied to the bodies of old men and of weak women, who displayed amid their agonies a nobler courage than has ever shone upon a battle-field, and whose memories are immortal among mankind. Blandina and Pothinus wrote in blood the first page of the glorious history of the Church of France.858 But although, during the closing years of Marcus Aurelius, severe persecutions took place in three or four provinces, there was no general and organised effort to suppress Christianity throughout the Empire.859
We may next consider, as a single period, the space of time that elapsed from the death of Marcus Aurelius, in a.d. 180, to the accession of Decius, a.d. 249. During all this time Christianity was a great and powerful body, exercising an important influence, and during a great part of it Christians filled high civil and military positions. The hostility manifested towards them began now to assume a more political complexion than it had previously done, except perhaps in the later years of Marcus Aurelius. The existence of a vast and rapidly increasing corporation, very alien to the system of the Empire, confronted every ruler. Emperors like Commodus or Heliogabalus were usually too immersed in selfish pleasures to have any distinct policy; but sagacious sovereigns, sincerely desiring the well-being of the Empire, either, like Marcus Aurelius and Diocletian, endeavoured to repress the rising creed, or, like Alexander Severus, and at last Constantine, actively encouraged it. The measures Marcus Aurelius had taken against Christianity were arrested under Commodus, whose favourite mistress, Marcia, supplies one of the very few recorded instances of female influence, which has been the cause of so much persecution, being exerted in behalf of toleration;860 yet a Christian philosopher named Apollonius, and at the same time, by a curious retribution, his accuser, were in this reign executed at Rome.861 During the sixty-nine years we are considering, the general peace of the Church was only twice broken. The first occasion was in the reign of Septimus Severus, who was for some time very favourable to the Christians, but who, in a.d. 202 or 203, issued an edict, forbidding any Pagan to join the Christian or Jewish faith;862 and this edict was followed by a sanguinary persecution in Africa and Syria, in which the father of Origen, and also St. Felicitas and St. Perpetua, perished. This persecution does not appear to have extended to the West, and was apparently rather the work of provincial governors, who interpreted the Imperial edict as a sign of hostility to the Christians, than the direct act of the emperor,863 whose decree applied only to Christians actively proselytising. It is worthy of notice that Origen observed that previous to this time the number of Christian martyrs had been very small.864 The second persecution was occasioned by the murder of Alexander Severus by Maximinus. The usurper pursued with great bitterness the leading courtiers of the deceased emperor, among whom were some Christian bishops,865 and about the same time severe earthquakes in Pontus and Cappadocia produced the customary popular ebullitions. But with these exceptions the Christians were undisturbed. Caracalla, Macrinus, and Heliogabalus took no measures against them, while Alexander Severus, who reigned for thirteen years, warmly and steadily supported them. A Pagan historian assures us that this emperor intended to build temples in honour of Christ, but was dissuaded by the priests, who urged that all the other temples would be deserted. He venerated in his private oratory the statues of Apollonius of Tyana, Abraham, Orpheus, and Christ. He decreed that the provincial governors should not be appointed till the people had the opportunity of declaring any crime they had committed, borrowing this rule avowedly from the procedure of the Jews and Christians in electing their clergy; he ordered the precept “Do not unto others what you would not that they should do unto you” to be engraven on the palace and other public buildings, and he decided a dispute concerning a piece of ground which the Christians had occupied, and which the owners of certain eating-houses claimed, in favour of the former, on the ground that the worship of a god should be most considered.866 Philip the Arab, who reigned during the last five years of the period we are considering, was so favourable to the Christians that he was believed, though on no trustworthy evidence, to have been baptised.
We have now reviewed the history of the persecutions to the year a.d. 249, or about two hundred years after the planting of Christianity in Rome. We have seen that, although during that period much suffering was occasionally endured, and much heroism displayed, by the Christians, there was, with the very doubtful exception of the Neronian persecution, no single attempt made to suppress Christianity throughout the Empire. Local persecutions of great severity had taken place at Smyrna and Lyons, under Marcus Aurelius; in Africa and some Asiatic provinces, under Severus; popular tumults, arising in the excitement of the public games, or produced by some earthquake or inundation, or by some calumnious accusation, were not unfrequent; but there was at no time that continuous, organised, and universal persecution by which, in later periods, ecclesiastical tribunals have again and again suppressed opinions repugnant to their own; and there was no part of the Empire in which whole generations did not pass away absolutely undisturbed. No martyr had fallen in Gaul or in great part of Asia Minor till Marcus Aurelius. In Italy, after the death of Nero, with the exception of some slight troubles under Domitian and Maximinus, probably due to causes altogether distinct from religion, there were, during the whole period we are considering, only a few isolated instances of martyrdom. The bishops, as the leaders of the Church, were the special objects of hostility, and several in different parts of the world had fallen; but it is extremely questionable whether any Roman bishop perished after the apostolic age, till Fabianus was martyred under Decius.867 If Christianity was not formally authorised, it was, like many other religions in a similar position, generally acquiesced in, and, during a great part of the time we have reviewed, its professors appear to have found no obstacles to their preferment in the Court or in the army. The emperors were for the most part indifferent or favourable to them. The priests in the Pagan society had but little influence, and do not appear to have taken any prominent part in the persecution till near the time of Diocletian. With the single exception of the Jews, no class held that doctrine of the criminality of error which has been the parent of most modern persecutions; and although the belief that great calamities were the result of neglecting or insulting the gods furnished the Pagans with a religious motive for persecution, this motive only acted on the occasion of some rare and exceptional catastrophe.868 In Christian times, the first objects of the persecutor are to control education, to prevent the publication of any heterodox works, to institute such a minute police inspection as to render impossible the celebration of the worship he desires to suppress. But nothing of this kind was attempted, or indeed was possible, in the period we are considering. With the exception of the body-guard of the emperor, almost the whole army, which was of extremely moderate dimensions, was massed along the vast frontier of the Empire. The police force was of the scantiest kind, sufficient only to keep common order in the streets. The Government had done something to encourage, but absolutely nothing to control, education, and parents or societies were at perfect liberty to educate the young as they pleased. The expansion of literature, by reason of the facilities which slavery gave to transcription, was very great, and it was for the most part entirely uncontrolled.869 Augustus, it is true, had caused some volumes of forged prophecies to be burnt,870 and, under the tyranny of Tiberius and Domitian, political writers and historians who eulogised tyrannicide, or vehemently opposed the Empire, were persecuted; but the extreme indignation these acts elicited attests their rarity, and, on matters unconnected with politics, the liberty of literature was absolute.871 In a word, the Church proselytised in a society in which toleration was the rule, and at a time when municipal, provincial, and personal independence had reached the highest point, when the ruling classes were for the most part absolutely indifferent to religious opinions, and when an unprecedented concourse of influences facilitated its progress.
When we reflect that these were the circumstances of the Church till the middle of the third century, we may readily perceive the absurdity of maintaining that Christianity was propagated in the face of such a fierce and continuous persecution that no opinions could have survived it without a miracle, or of arguing from the history of the early Church that persecution never has any real efficacy in suppressing truth. When, in addition to the circumstances under which it operated, we consider the unexampled means both of attraction and of intimidation that were possessed by the Church, we can have no difficulty in understanding that it should have acquired a magnitude that would enable it to defy the far more serious assaults it was still destined to endure. That it had acquired this extension we have abundant evidence. The language I have quoted from Lactantius is but a feeble echo of the emphatic statements of writers before the Decian persecution.872 “There is no race of men, whether Greek or barbarian,” said Justin Martyr, “among whom prayers and thanks are not offered up in the name of the crucified.”873 “We are but of yesterday,” cried Tertullian, “and we fill all your cities, islands, forts, councils, even the camps themselves, the tribes, the decuries, the palaces, the senate, and the forum.”874 Eusebius has preserved a letter of Cornelius, Bishop of Rome, containing a catalogue of the officers of his Church at the time of the Decian persecution. It consisted of one bishop, forty-six presbyters, seven deacons, seven subdeacons, forty-two acolytes, fifty-two exorcists, readers, and janitors. The Church also supported more than fifteen hundred widows, and poor or suffering persons.875
The Decian persecution, which broke out in a.d. 249, and was probably begun in hopes of restoring the Empire to its ancient discipline, and eliminating from it all extraneous and unpatriotic influences,876 is the first example of a deliberate attempt, supported by the whole machinery of provincial government, and extending over the entire surface of the Empire, to extirpate Christianity from the world. It would be difficult to find language too strong to paint its horrors. The ferocious instincts of the populace, that were long repressed, burst out anew, and they were not only permitted, but encouraged by the rulers. Far worse than the deaths which menaced those who shrank from the idolatrous sacrifices, were the hideous and prolonged tortures by which the magistrates often sought to subdue the constancy of the martyr, the nameless outrages that were sometimes inflicted on the Christian virgin.877 The Church, enervated by a long peace, and deeply infected with the vices of the age, tottered beneath the blow. It had long since arrived at the period when men were Christians not by conviction, but through family relationship; when the more opulent Christians vied in luxury with the Pagans among whom they mixed, and when even the bishops were, in many instances, worldly aspirants after civil offices. It is not, therefore, surprising that the defection was very large. The Pagans marked with triumphant ridicule, and the Fathers with a burning indignation, the thousands who thronged to the altars at the very commencement of persecution, the sudden collapse of the most illustrious churches, the eagerness with which the offer of provincial governors to furnish certificates of apostasy, without exacting a compliance with the conditions which those certificates attested, was accepted by multitudes.878 The question whether those who abandoned the faith should afterwards be readmitted to communion, became the chief question that divided the Novatians, and one of the questions that divided the Montanists from the Catholics, while the pretensions of the confessors to furnish indulgences, remitting the penances imposed by the bishops, led to a conflict which contributed very largely to establish the undisputed ascendancy of the episcopacy. But the Decian persecution, though it exhibits the Church in a somewhat less noble attitude than the persecutions which preceded and which followed it, was adorned by many examples of extreme courage and devotion, displayed in not a few cases by those who were physically among the frailest of mankind. It was of a kind eminently fitted to crush the Church. Had it taken place at an earlier period, had it been continued for a long succession of years, Christianity, without a miracle, must have perished. But the Decian persecution fell upon a Church which had existed for two centuries, and it lasted less than two years.879 Its intensity varied much in different provinces. In Alexandria and the neighbouring towns, where a popular tumult had anticipated the menaces of the Government, it was extremely horrible.880 In Carthage, at first, the proconsul being absent, no capital sentence was passed, but on the arrival of that functionary the penalty of death, accompanied by dreadful tortures, was substituted for that of exile or imprisonment.881 The rage of the people was especially directed against the bishop St. Cyprian, who prudently retired till the storm had passed.882 In general, it was observed that the object of the rulers was much less to slay than to vanquish the Christians. Horrible tortures were continually employed to extort an apostasy, and, when those tortures proved vain, great numbers were ultimately released.
The Decian persecution is remarkable in Christian archæology as being, it is believed, the first occasion in which the Christian catacombs were violated. Those vast subterranean corridors, lined with tombs and expanding very frequently into small chapels adorned with paintings, often of no mean beauty, had for a long period been an inviolable asylum in seasons of persecution. The extreme sanctity which the Romans were accustomed to attach to the place of burial repelled the profane, and as early, it is said, as the very beginning of the third century, the catacombs were recognised as legal possessions of the Church.883 The Roman legislators, however unfavourable to the formation of guilds or associations, made an exception in favour of burial societies, or associations of men subscribing a certain sum to ensure to each member a decent burial in ground which belonged to the corporation. The Church is believed to have availed itself of this privilege, and to have attained, in this capacity, a legal existence. The tombs, which were originally the properties of distinct families, became in this manner an ecclesiastical domain, and the catacombs were, from perhaps the first, made something more than places of burial.884 The chapels with which they abound, and which are of the smallest dimensions and utterly unfit for general worship, were probably mortuary chapels, and may have also been employed in the services commemorating the martyrs, while the ordinary worship was probably at first conducted in the private houses of the Christians. The decision of Alexander Severus, which I have already noticed, is the earliest notice we possess of the existence of buildings specially devoted to the Christian services; but we cannot tell how long before this time they may have existed in Rome.885 In serious persecution, however, they would doubtless have to be abandoned; and, as a last resort, the catacombs proved a refuge from the persecutors.
The reign of Decius only lasted about two years, and before its close the persecution had almost ceased.886 On the accession of his son Gallus, in the last month of a.d. 251, there was for a short time perfect peace; but Gallus resumed the persecution in the spring of the following year, and although apparently not very severe, or very general, it seems to have continued to his death, which took place a year after.887 Two Roman bishops, Cornelius, who had succeeded the martyred Fabianus, and his successor Lucius, were at this time put to death.888 Valerian, who ascended the throne a.d. 254, at first not only tolerated, but warmly patronised the Christians, and attracted so many to his Court that his house, in the language of a contemporary, appeared “the Church of the Lord.”889 But after rather more than four years his disposition changed. At the persuasion, it is said, of an Egyptian magician, named Macrianus, he signed in a.d. 258 an edict of persecution condemning Christian ecclesiastics and senators to death, and other Christians to exile, or to the forfeiture of their property, and prohibiting them from entering the catacombs.890 A sanguinary and general persecution ensued. Among the victims were Sixtus, the Bishop of Rome, who perished in the catacombs,891 and Cyprian, who was exiled, and afterwards beheaded, and was the first Bishop of Carthage who suffered martyrdom.892 At last, Valerian, having been captured by the Persians, Gallienus, in a.d. 260, ascended the throne, and immediately proclaimed a perfect toleration of the Christians.893
The period from the accession of Decius, in a.d. 249, to the accession of Gallienus, in a.d. 260, which I have now very briefly noticed, was by far the most disastrous the Church had yet endured. With the exception of about five years in the reigns of Gallus and Valerian, the persecution was continuous, though it varied much in its intensity and its range. During the first portion, if measured, not by the number of deaths, but by the atrocity of the tortures inflicted, it was probably as severe as any upon record. It was subsequently directed chiefly against the leading clergy, and, as we have seen, four Roman bishops perished. In addition to the political reasons that inspired it, the popular fanaticism caused by great calamities, which were ascribed to anger of the gods at the neglect of their worship, had in this as in former periods a great influence. Political disasters, which foreshadowed clearly the approaching downfall of the Empire, were followed by fearful and general famines and plagues. St. Cyprian, in a treatise addressed to one of the persecutors who was most confident in ascribing these things to the Christians, presents us with an extremely curious picture both of the general despondency that had fallen upon the Empire, and of the manner in which these calamities were regarded by the Christians. Like most of his co-religionists, the saint was convinced that the closing scene of the earth was at hand. The decrepitude of the world, he said, had arrived, the forces of nature were almost exhausted, the sun had no longer its old lustre, or the soil its old fertility, the spring time had grown less lovely, and the autumn less bounteous, the energy of man had decayed, and all things were moving rapidly to the end. Famines and plagues were the precursors of the day of judgment. They were sent to warn and punish a rebellious world, which, still bowing down before idols, persecuted the believers in the truth. “So true is this, that the Christians are never persecuted without the sky manifesting at once the Divine displeasure.” The conception of a converted Empire never appears to have flashed across the mind of the saint;894 the only triumph he predicted for the Church was that of another world; and to the threats of the persecutors he rejoined by fearful menaces. “A burning, scorching fire will for ever torment those who are condemned; there will be no respite or end to their torments. We shall through eternity contemplate in their agonies those who for a short time contemplated us in tortures, and for the brief pleasure which the barbarity of our persecutors took in feasting their eyes upon an inhuman spectacle, they will be themselves exposed as an eternal spectacle of agony.” As a last warning, calamity after calamity broke upon the world, and, with the solemnity of one on whom the shadow of death had already fallen, St. Cyprian adjured the persecutors to repent and to be saved.895
The accession of Gallienus introduced the Church to a new period of perfect peace, which, with a single inconsiderable exception, continued for no less than forty years. The exception was furnished by Aurelian, who during nearly the whole of his reign had been exceedingly favourable to the Christians, and had even been appealed to by the orthodox bishops, who desired him to expel from Antioch a prelate they had excommunicated for heresy,896 but who, at the close of his reign, intended to persecute. He was assassinated, however, according to one account, when he was just about to sign the decrees; according to another, before they had been sent through the provinces; and if any persecution actually took place, it was altogether inconsiderable.897 Christianity, during all this time, was not only perfectly free, it was greatly honoured. Christians were appointed governors of the provinces, and were expressly exonerated from the duty of sacrificing. The bishops were treated by the civil authorities with profound respect. The palaces of the emperor were filled with Christian servants, who were authorised freely to profess their religion, and were greatly valued for their fidelity. The popular prejudice seems to have been lulled to rest; and it has been noticed that the rapid progress of the faith excited no tumult or hostility. Spacious churches were erected in every quarter, and they could scarcely contain the multitude of worshippers.898 In Rome itself, before the outburst of the Diocletian persecution, there were no less than forty churches.899 The Christians may still have been outnumbered by the Pagans; but when we consider their organisation, their zeal, and their rapid progress, a speedy triumph appeared inevitable.
But before that triumph was achieved a last and a terrific ordeal was to be undergone. Diocletian, whose name has been somewhat unjustly associated with a persecution, the responsibility of which belongs far more to his colleague Galerius, having left the Christians in perfect peace for nearly eighteen years, suffered himself to be persuaded to make one more effort to eradicate the foreign creed. This emperor, who had risen by his merits from the humblest position, exhibited in all the other actions of his reign a moderate, placable, and conspicuously humane nature, and, although he greatly magnified the Imperial authority, the simplicity of his private life, his voluntary abdication, and, above all, his singularly noble conduct during many years of retirement, displayed a rare magnanimity of character. As a politician, he deserves, I think, to rank very high. Antoninus and Marcus Aurelius had been too fascinated by the traditions of the Republic, and by the austere teaching and retrospective spirit of the Stoics, to realise the necessity of adapting institutions to the wants of a luxurious and highly civilised people, and they therefore had little permanent influence upon the destinies of the Empire. But Diocletian invariably exhibited in his legislation a far-seeing and comprehensive mind, well aware of the condition of the society he ruled, and provident of distant events. Perceiving that Roman corruption was incurable, he attempted to regenerate the Empire by creating new centres of political life in the great and comparatively unperverted capitals of the provinces; and Nicomedia, which was his habitual residence, Carthage, Milan, and Ravenna, all received abundant tokens of his favour. He swept away or disregarded the obsolete and inefficient institutions of Republican liberty that still remained, and indeed gave his government a somewhat Oriental character; but, at the same time, by the bold, and, it must be admitted, very perilous measure of dividing the Empire into four sections, he abridged the power of each ruler, ensured the better supervision and increased authority of the provinces, and devised the first effectual check to those military revolts which had for some time been threatening the Empire with anarchy. With the same energetic statesmanship, we find him reorganising the whole system of taxation, and attempting, less wisely, to regulate commercial transactions. To such an emperor, the problem presented by the rapid progress and the profoundly anti-national character of Christianity must have been a matter of serious consideration, and the weaknesses of his character were most unfavourable to the Church; for Diocletian, with many noble qualities of heart and head, was yet superstitious, tortuous, nervous, and vacillating, and was too readily swayed by the rude and ferocious soldier, who was impetuously inciting him against the Christians.
The extreme passion which Galerius displayed on this subject is ascribed, in the first instance, to the influence of his mother, who was ardently devoted to the Pagan worship. He is himself painted in dark colours by the Christian writers as a man of boundless and unbridled sensuality, of an imperiousness that rose to fury at opposition, and of a cruelty which had long passed the stage of callousness, and become a fiendish delight, in the infliction and contemplation of suffering.900 His strong attachment to Paganism made him at length the avowed representative of his party, which several causes had contributed to strengthen. The philosophy of the Empire had by this time fully passed into its Neoplatonic and Pythagorean phases, and was closely connected with religious observances. Hierocles and Porphyry, who were among its most eminent exponents, had both written books against Christianity, and the Oriental religions fostered much fanaticism among the people. Political interests united with superstition, for the Christians were now a very formidable body in the State. Their interests were supposed to be represented by the Cæsar Constantius Chlorus, and the religion was either adopted, or at least warmly favoured, by the wife and daughter of Diocletian (the latter of whom was married to Galerius901), and openly professed by some of the leading officials at the Court. A magnificent church crowned the hill facing the palace of the emperor at Nicomedia. The bishops were, in most cities, among the most active and influential citizens, and their influence was not always exercised for good. A few cases, in which an ill-considered zeal led Christians to insult the Pagan worship, one or two instances of Christians refusing to serve in the army, because they believed military life repugnant to their creed, a scandalous relaxation of morals, that had arisen during the long peace, and the fierce and notorious discord displayed by the leaders of the Church, contributed in different ways to accelerate the persecution.902
For a considerable time Diocletian resisted all the urgency of Galerius against the Christians, and the only measure taken was the dismissal by the latter sovereign of a number of Christian officers from the army. In a.d. 303, however, Diocletian yielded to the entreaties of his colleague, and a fearful persecution, which many circumstances conspired to stimulate, began. The priests, in one of the public ceremonies, had declared that the presence of Christians prevented the entrails from showing the accustomed signs. The oracle of Apollo, at Miletus, being consulted by Diocletian, exhorted him to persecute the Christians. A fanatical Christian, who avowed his deed, and expiated it by a fearful death, tore down the first edict of persecution, and replaced it by a bitter taunt against the emperor. Twice, after the outburst of the persecution, the palace at Nicomedia, where Diocletian and Galerius were residing, was set on fire, and the act was ascribed, not without probability, to a Christian hand, as were also some slight disturbances that afterwards arose in Syria.903 Edict after edict followed in rapid succession. The first ordered the destruction of all Christian churches and of all Bibles, menaced with death the Christians if they assembled in secret for Divine worship, and deprived them of all civil rights. A second edict ordered all ecclesiastics to be thrown into prison, while a third edict ordered that these prisoners, and a fourth edict that all Christians, should be compelled by torture to sacrifice. At first Diocletian refused to permit their lives to be taken, but after the fire at Nicomedia this restriction was removed. Many were burnt alive, and the tortures by which the persecutors sought to shake their resolution were so dreadful that even such a death seemed an act of mercy. The only province of the Empire where the Christians were at peace was Gaul, which had received its baptism of blood under Marcus Aurelius, but was now governed by Constantius Chlorus, who protected them from personal molestation, though he was compelled, in obedience to the emperor, to destroy their churches. In Spain, which was also under the government, but not under the direct inspection, of Constantius, the persecution was moderate, but in all other parts of the Empire it raged with fierceness till the abdication of Diocletian in 305. This event almost immediately restored peace to the Western provinces,904 but greatly aggravated the misfortunes of the Eastern Christians, who passed under the absolute rule of Galerius. Horrible, varied, and prolonged tortures were employed to quell their fortitude, and their final resistance was crowned by the most dreadful of all deaths, roasting over a slow fire. It was not till a.d. 311, eight years after the commencement of the general persecution, ten years after the first measure against the Christians, that the Eastern persecution ceased. Galerius, the arch-enemy of the Christians, was struck down by a fearful disease. His body, it is said, became a mass of loathsome and fœtid sores—a living corpse, devoured by countless worms, and exhaling the odour of the charnel-house. He who had shed so much innocent blood, shrank himself from a Roman death. In his extreme anguish he appealed in turn to physician after physician, and to temple after temple. At last he relented towards the Christians. He issued a proclamation restoring them to liberty, permitting them to rebuild their churches, and asking their prayers for his recovery.905 The era of persecution now closed. One brief spasm, indeed, due to the Cæsar Maximian, shot through the long afflicted Church of Asia Minor;906 but it was rapidly allayed. The accession of Constantine, the proclamation of Milan, a.d. 313, the defeat of Licinius, and the conversion of the conqueror, speedily followed, and Christianity became the religion of the Empire.
Such, so far as we can trace it, is the outline of the last and most terrible persecution inflicted on the early Church. Unfortunately we can place little reliance on any information we possess about the number of its victims, the provocations that produced it, or the objects of its authors. The ecclesiastical account of these matters is absolutely unchecked by any Pagan statement, and it is derived almost exclusively from the history of Eusebius, and from the treatise “On the Deaths of the Persecutors,” which is ascribed to Lactantius. Eusebius was a writer of great learning, and of critical abilities not below the very low level of his time, and he had personal knowledge of some of the events in Palestine which he has recorded; but he had no pretensions whatever to impartiality. He has frankly told us that his principle in writing history was to conceal the facts that were injurious to the reputation of the Church;907 and although his practice was sometimes better than his principle, the portrait he has drawn of the saintly virtues of his patron Constantine, which we are able to correct from other sources, abundantly proves with how little scruple the courtly bishop could stray into the paths of fiction. The treatise of Lactantius, which has been well termed “a party pamphlet,” is much more untrustworthy. It is a hymn of exultation over the disastrous ends of the persecutors, and especially of Galerius, written in a strain of the fiercest and most passionate invective, and bearing on every page unequivocal signs of inaccuracy and exaggeration. The whole history of the early persecution was soon enveloped in a thick cloud of falsehood. A notion, derived from prophecy, that ten great persecutions must precede the day of judgment, at an early period stimulated the imagination of the Christians, who believed that day to be imminent; and it was natural that as time rolled on men should magnify the sufferings that had been endured, and that in credulous and uncritical ages a single real incident should be often multiplied, diversified, and exaggerated in many distinct narratives. Monstrous fictions, such as the crucifixion of ten thousand Christians upon Mount Ararat under Trajan, the letter of Tiberianus to Trajan, complaining that he was weary of ceaselessly killing Christians in Palestine, and the Theban legion of six thousand men, said to have been massacred by Maximilian, were boldly propagated and readily believed.908 The virtue supposed to attach to the bones of martyrs, and the custom, and, after a decree of the second Council of Nice, in the eighth century, the obligation, of placing saintly remains under every altar, led to an immense multiplication of spurious relics, and a corresponding demand for legends. Almost every hamlet soon required a patron martyr and a local legend, which the nearest monastery was usually ready to supply. The monks occupied their time in composing and disseminating innumerable acts of martyrs, which purported to be strictly historical, but which were, in fact, deliberate, though it was thought edifying, forgeries; and pictures of hideous tortures, enlivened by fantastic miracles, soon became the favourite popular literature. To discriminate accurately the genuine acts of martyrs from the immense mass that were fabricated by the monks, has been attempted by Ruinart, but is perhaps impossible. Modern criticism has, however, done much to reduce the ancient persecutions to their true dimensions. The famous essay of Dodwell, which appeared towards the close of the seventeenth century, though written, I think, a little in the spirit of a special pleader, and not free from its own exaggerations, has had a great and abiding influence upon ecclesiastical history, and the still more famous chapter which Gibbon devoted to the subject rendered the conclusions of Dodwell familiar to the world.
Notwithstanding the great knowledge and critical acumen displayed in this chapter, few persons, I imagine, can rise from its perusal without a feeling both of repulsion and dissatisfaction. The complete absence of all sympathy with the heroic courage manifested by the martyrs, and the frigid and, in truth, most unphilosophical severity with which the historian has weighed the words and actions of men engaged in the agonies of a deadly struggle, must repel every generous nature, while the persistence with which he estimates persecutions by the number of deaths rather than by the amount of suffering, diverts the mind from the really distinctive atrocities of the Pagan persecutions. He has observed, that while the anger of the persecutors was at all times especially directed against the bishops, we know from Eusebius that only nine bishops were put to death in the entire Diocletian persecution, and that the particular enumeration, which the historian made on the spot, of all the martyrs who perished during this persecution in Palestine, which was under the government of Galerius, and was therefore exposed to the full fury of the storm, shows the entire number to have been ninety-two. Starting from this fact, Gibbon, by a well-known process of calculation, has estimated the probable number of martyrs in the whole Empire, during the Diocletian persecution, at about two thousand, which happens to be the number of persons burnt by the Spanish Inquisition during the presidency of Torquemada alone,909 and about one twenty-fifth of the number who are said to have suffered for their religion in the Netherlands in the reign of Charles V.910 But although, if measured by the number of martyrs, the persecutions inflicted by Pagans were less terrible than those inflicted by Christians, there is one aspect in which the former appear by far the more atrocious, and a truthful historian should suffer no false delicacy to prevent him from unflinchingly stating it. The conduct of the provincial governors, even when they were compelled by the Imperial edicts to persecute, was often conspicuously merciful. The Christian records contain several examples of rulers who refused to search out the Christians, who discountenanced or even punished their accusers, who suggested ingenious evasions of the law, who tried by earnest and patient kindness to overcome what they regarded as insane obstinacy, and who, when their efforts had proved vain, mitigated by their own authority the sentence they were compelled to pronounce. It was only on very rare occasions that any, except conspicuous leaders of the Church, and sometimes persons of a servile condition, were in danger; the time that was conceded them before their trials gave them great facilities for escaping, and, even when condemned, Christian women had usually full permission to visit them in their prisons, and to console them by their charity. But, on the other hand, Christian writings, which it is impossible to dispute, continually record barbarities inflicted upon converts, so ghastly and so hideous that the worst horrors of the Inquisition pale before them. It is, indeed, true that burning heretics by a slow fire was one of the accomplishments of the Inquisitors, and that they were among the most consummate masters of torture of their age. It is true that in one Catholic country they introduced the atrocious custom of making the spectacle of men burnt alive for their religious opinions an element in the public festivities.911 It is true, too, that the immense majority of the acts of the martyrs are the transparent forgeries of lying monks; but it is also true that among the authentic records of Pagan persecutions there are histories which display, perhaps more vividly than any other, both the depth of cruelty to which human nature may sink, and the heroism of resistance it may attain. There was a time when it was the just boast of the Romans, that no refinements of cruelty, no prolongations of torture, were admitted in their stern but simple penal code. But all this was changed. Those hateful games, which made the spectacle of human suffering and death the delight of all classes, had spread their brutalising influence wherever the Roman name was known, had rendered millions absolutely indifferent to the sight of human suffering, had produced in many, in the very centre of an advanced civilisation, a relish and a passion for torture, a rapture and an exultation in watching the spasms of extreme agony, such as an African or an American savage alone can equal. The most horrible recorded instances of torture were usually inflicted, either by the populace, or in their presence, in the arena.912 We read of Christians bound in chairs of red-hot iron, while the stench of their half-consumed flesh rose in a suffocating cloud to heaven; of others who were torn to the very bone by shells, or hooks of iron; of holy virgins given over to the lust of the gladiator, or to the mercies of the pander; of two hundred and twenty-seven converts sent on one occasion to the mines, each with the sinews of one leg severed by a red-hot iron, and with an eye scooped from its socket; of fires so slow that the victims writhed for hours in their agonies; of bodies torn limb from limb, or sprinkled with burning lead; of mingled salt and vinegar poured over the flesh that was bleeding from the rack; of tortures prolonged and varied through entire days. For the love of their Divine Master, for the cause they believed to be true, men, and even weak girls, endured these things without flinching, when one word would have freed them from their sufferings. No opinion we may form of the proceedings of priests in a later age should impair the reverence with which we bend before the martyr’s tomb.
Footnotes
1 The opinions of Hume on moral questions are grossly misrepresented by many writers, who persist in describing them as substantially identical with those of Bentham. How far Hume was from denying the existence of a moral sense, the following passages will show:—“The final sentence, it is probable, which pronounces characters and actions amiable or odious, praiseworthy or blameable... depends on some internal sense or feeling which nature has made universal in the whole species.”—Enquiry Concerning Morals, § 1. “The hypothesis we embrace... defines virtue to be whatever mental action or quality gives to the spectator the pleasing sentiment of approbation.”—Ibid. Append. I. “The crime or immorality is no particular fact or relation which can be the object of the understanding, but arises entirely from the sentiment of disapprobation, which, by the structure of human nature, we unavoidably feel on the apprehension of barbarity or treachery.”—Ibid. “Reason instructs us in the several tendencies of actions, and humanity makes a distinction in favour of those which are useful and beneficial.”—Ibid. “As virtue is an end, and is desirable on its own account without fee or reward, merely for the immediate satisfaction it conveys, it is requisite that there should be some sentiment which it touches, some internal taste or feeling, or whatever you please to call it, which distinguishes moral good and evil, and which embraces the one and rejects the other.”—Ibid. The two writers to whom Hume was most indebted were Hutcheson and Butler. In some interesting letters to the former (Burton’s Life of Hume, vol. i.), he discusses the points on which he differed from them.
2 “The chief thing therefore which lawgivers and other wise men that have laboured for the establishment of society have endeavoured, has been to make the people they were to govern believe that it was more beneficial for everybody to conquer than to indulge his appetites, and much better to mind the public than what seemed his private interest... observing that none were either so savage as not to be charmed with praise, or so despicable as patiently to bear contempt, they justly concluded that flattery must be the most powerful argument that could be used to human creatures. Making use of this bewitching engine, they extolled the excellency of our nature above other animals... by the help of which we were capable of performing the most noble achievements. Having, by this artful flattery, insinuated themselves into the hearts of men, they began to instruct them in the notions of honour and shame, &c.”—Enquiry into the Origin of Moral Virtue.
3 “I conceive that when a man deliberates whether he shall do a thing or not do it, he does nothing else but consider whether it be better for himself to do it or not to do it.”—Hobbes On Liberty and Necessity. “Good and evil are names that signify our appetites and aversions.”—Ibid. Leviathan, part i. ch. xvi. “Obligation is the necessity of doing or omitting any action in order to be happy.”—Gay’s dissertation prefixed to King’s Origin of Evil, p. 36. “The only reason or motive by which individuals can possibly be induced to the practice of virtue, must be the feeling immediate or the prospect of future private happiness.”—Brown On the Characteristics, p. 159. “En tout temps, en tout lieu, tant en matière de morale qu’en matière d’esprit, c’est l’intérêt personnel qui dicte le jugement des particuliers, et l’intérêt général qui dicte celui des nations.... Tout homme ne prend dans ses jugements conseil que de son intérêt.”—Helvétius De l’Esprit, discours ii. “Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as to determine what we shall do.... The principle of utility recognises this subjection, and assumes it for the foundation of that system, the object of which is to rear the fabric of felicity by the hands of reason and of law. Systems which attempt to question it, deal in sounds instead of sense, in caprice instead of reason, in darkness instead of light.”—Bentham’s Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. i. “By the principle of utility is meant that principle which approves or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the tendency which it appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question.”—Ibid. “Je regarde l’amour éclairé de nous-mêmes comme le principe de tout sacrifice moral.”—D’Alembert quoted by D. Stewart, Active and Moral Powers, vol. i. p. 220.
4 “Pleasure is in itself a good; nay, even setting aside immunity from pain, the only good; pain is in itself an evil, and, indeed, without exception, the only evil, or else the words good and evil have no meaning.”—Bentham’s Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. x.
5 “Good and evil are nothing but pleasure and pain, or that which occasions or procures pleasure or pain to us. Moral good and evil then is only the conformity or disagreement of our voluntary actions to some law whereby good or evil is drawn on us by the will and power of the law maker, which good and evil, pleasure or pain, attending our observance or breach of the law by the decree of the law maker, is that we call reward or punishment.”—Locke’s Essay, book ii. ch. xxviii. “Take away pleasures and pains, not only happiness, but justice, and duty, and obligation, and virtue, all of which have been so elaborately held up to view as independent of them, are so many empty sounds.”—Bentham’s Springs of Action, ch. i. § 15.
6 “Il lui est aussi impossible d’aimer le bien pour le bien, que d’aimer le mal pour le mal.”—Helvétius De l’Esprit, disc. ii. ch. v.
7 “Even the goodness which we apprehend in God Almighty, is his goodness to us.”—Hobbes On Human Nature, ch. vii. § 3. So Waterland, “To love God is in effect the same thing as to love happiness, eternal happiness; and the love of happiness is still the love of ourselves.”—Third Sermon on Self-love.
8 “Reverence is the conception we have concerning another, that he hath the power to do unto us both good and hurt, but not the will to do us hurt.”—Hobbes On Human Nature, ch. viii. § 7.
9 “The pleasures of piety are the pleasures that accompany the belief of a man’s being in the acquisition, or in possession of the goodwill or favour of the Supreme Being; and as a fruit of it, of his being in the way of enjoying pleasures to be received by God’s special appointment either in this life or in a life to come.”—Bentham’s Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. v. “The pains of piety are the pains that accompany the belief of a man’s being obnoxious to the displeasure of the Supreme Being, and in consequence to certain pains to be inflicted by His especial appointment, either in this life or in a life to come. These may be also called the pains of religion.”—Ibid.
10 “There can be no greater argument to a man of his own power, than to find himself able not only to accomplish his own desires, but also to assist other men in theirs; and this is that conception wherein consisteth charity.”—Hobbes On Hum. Nat. ch. ix. § 17. “No man giveth but with intention of good to himself, because gift is voluntary; and of all voluntary acts, the object to every man is his own good.”—Hobbes’ Leviathan, part i. ch. xv. “Dream not that men will move their little finger to serve you, unless their advantage in so doing be obvious to them. Men never did so, and never will while human nature is made of its present materials.”—Bentham’s Deontology, vol. ii. p. 133.
11 “Pity is imagination or fiction of future calamity to ourselves, proceeding from the sense of another man’s calamity. But when it lighteth on such as we think have not deserved the same, the compassion is greater, because there then appeareth more probability that the same may happen to us; for the evil that happeneth to an innocent man may happen to every man.”—Hobbes On Hum. Nat. ch. ix. § 10. “La pitié est souvent un sentiment de nos propres maux dans les maux d’autrui. C’est une habile prévoyance des malheurs où nous pouvons tomber. Nous donnons des secours aux autres pour les engager à nous en donner en de semblables occasions, et ces services que nous leur rendons sont, à proprement parler, des biens que nous nous faisons à nous-mêmes par avance.”—La Rochefoucauld, Maximes, 264. Butler has remarked that if Hobbes’ account were true, the most fearful would be the most compassionate nature; but this is perhaps not quite just, for Hobbes’ notion of pity implies the union of two not absolutely identical, though nearly allied, influences, timidity and imagination. The theory of Adam Smith, though closely connected with, differs totally in consequences from that of Hobbes on this point. He says, “When I condole with you for the loss of your son, in order to enter into your grief, I do not consider what I, a person of such a character and profession, should suffer if I had a son, and if that son should die—I consider what I should suffer if I was really you. I not only change circumstances with you, but I change persons and characters. My grief, therefore, is entirely upon your account.... A man may sympathise with a woman in child-bed, though it is impossible he should conceive himself suffering her pains in his own proper person and character.”—Moral Sentiments, part vii. ch. i. §3.
12 “Ce que les hommes ont nommé amitié n’est qu’une société, qu’un ménagement réciproque d’intérêts et qu’un échange de bons offices. Ce n’est enfin qu’un commerce où l’amour-propre se propose toujours quelque chose à gagner.”—La Rochefoucauld, Max. 83. See this idea developed at large in Helvétius.
13 “La science de la morale n’est autre chose que la science même de la législation.”—Helvétius De l’Esprit, ii. 17.
14 This doctrine is expounded at length in all the moral works of Hobbes and his school. The following passage is a fair specimen of their meaning:—“Moral philosophy is nothing else but the science of what is good and evil in the conversation and society of mankind. Good and evil are names that signify our appetites and aversions, which in different tempers, customs, and doctrines of men are different... from whence arise disputes, controversies, and at last war. And therefore, so long as man is in this condition of mere nature (which is a condition of war), his private appetite is the measure of good and evil. And consequently all men agree in this, that peace is good, and therefore also that the ways or means of peace, (which, as I have showed before) are justice, gratitude, modesty, equity, mercy, and the rest of the laws of nature are good... and their contrary vices evil.”—Hobbes’ Leviathan, part i. ch. xvi. See, too, a striking passage in Bentham’s Deontology, vol. ii. p. 132.
15 As an ingenious writer in the Saturday Review (Aug. 10, 1867) expresses it: “Chastity is merely a social law created to encourage the alliances that most promote the permanent welfare of the race, and to maintain woman in a social position which it is thought advisable she should hold.” See, too, on this view, Hume’s Inquiry concerning Morals, § 4, and also note x.: “To what other purpose do all the ideas of chastity and modesty serve? Nisi utile est quod facimus, frustra est gloria.”
16 “All pleasure is necessarily self-regarding, for it is impossible to have any feelings out of our own mind. But there are modes of delight that bring also satisfaction to others, from the round that they take in their course. Such are the pleasures of benevolence. Others imply no participation by any second party, as, for example, eating, drinking, bodily warmth, property, and power; while a third class are fed by the pains and privations of fellow-beings, as the delights of sport and tyranny. The condemnatory phrase, selfishness, applies with especial emphasis to the last-mentioned class, and, in a qualified degree, to the second group; while such terms as unselfishness, disinterestedness, self-devotion, are applied to the vicarious position wherein we seek our own satisfaction in that of others.”—Bain On the Emotions and Will, p. 113.
17 “Vice may be defined to be a miscalculation of chances, a mistake in estimating the value of pleasures and pains. It is false moral arithmetic.”—Bentham’s Deontology, vol. i. p. 131.
18 “La récompense, la punition, la gloire et l’infamie soumises à ses volontés sont quatre espèces de divinités avec lesquelles le législateur peut toujours opérer le bien public et créer des hommes illustres en tous les genres. Toute l’étude des moralistes consiste à déterminer l’usage qu’on doit faire de ces récompenses et de ces punitions et les secours qu’on peut tirer pour lier l’intérêt personnel à l’intérêt général.”—Helvétius De l’Esprit, ii. 22. “La justice de nos jugements et de nos actions n’est jamais que la rencontre heureuse de notre intérêt avec l’intérêt public.”—Ibid. ii. 7. “To prove that the immoral action is a miscalculation of self-interest, to show how erroneous an estimate the vicious man makes of pains and pleasures, is the purpose of the intelligent moralist. Unless he can do this he does nothing; for, as has been stated above, for a man not to pursue what he deems likely to produce to him the greatest sum of enjoyment, is, in the very nature of things, impossible.”—Bentham’s Deontology.
19 “If the effect of virtue were to prevent or destroy more pleasure than it produced, or to produce more pain than it prevented, its more appropriate name would be wickedness and folly; wickedness as it affected others, folly as respected him who practised it.”—Bentham’s Deontology, vol. i. p. 142. “Weigh pains, weigh pleasures, and as the balance stands will stand the question of right and wrong.”—Ibid. vol. i. p. 137. “Moralis philosophiæ caput est, Faustine fili, ut scias quibus ad beatam vitam perveniri rationibus possit.”—Apuleius, Ad Doct. Platonis, ii. “Atque ipsa utilitas, justi prope mater et æqui.”—Horace, Sat. I. iii. 98.
20 “We can be obliged to nothing but what we ourselves are to gain or lose something by; for nothing else can be ‘violent motive’ to us. As we should not be obliged to obey the laws or the magistrate unless rewards or punishments, pleasure or pain, somehow or other, depended upon our obedience; so neither should we, without the same reason, be obliged to do what is right, to practise virtue, or to obey the commands of God.”—Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book ii. ch. ii.
21 See Gassendi Philosophiæ Epicuri Syntagma. These four canons are a skilful condensation of the argument of Torquatus in Cicero, De Fin. i. 2. See, too, a very striking letter by Epicurus himself, given in his life by Diogenes Laërtius.
22 “Sanus igitur non est, qui nulla spe majore proposita, iis bonis quibus cæteri utuntur in vita, labores et cruciatus et miserias anteponat.... Non aliter his bonis præsentibus abstinendum est quam si sint aliqua majora, propter quæ tanti sit et voluptates omittere et mala omnia sustinere.”—Lactantius, Div. Inst. vi. 9. Macaulay, in some youthful essays against the Utilitarian theory (which he characteristically described as “Not much more laughable than phrenology, and immeasurably more humane than cock-fighting”), maintains the theological form of selfishness in very strong terms. “What proposition is there respecting human nature which is absolutely and universally true? We know of only one, and that is not only true but identical, that men always act from self-interest.”—Review of Mill’s Essay on Government. “Of this we may be sure, that the words ‘greatest happiness’ will never in any man’s mouth mean more than the greatest happiness of others, which is consistent with what he thinks his own.... This direction (Do as you would be done by) would be utterly unmeaning, as it actually is in Mr. Bentham’s philosophy, unless it were accompanied by a sanction. In the Christian scheme accordingly it is accompanied by a sanction of immense force. To a man whose greatest happiness in this world is inconsistent with the greatest happiness of the greatest number, is held out the prospect of an infinite happiness hereafter, from which he excludes himself by wronging his fellow-creatures here.”—Answer to the Westminster Review’s Defence of Mill.
23 “All virtue and piety are thus resolvable into a principle of self-love. It is what Scripture itself resolves them into by founding them upon faith in God’s promises, and hope in things unseen. In this way it may be rightly said that there is no such thing as disinterested virtue. It is with reference to ourselves and for our own sakes that we love even God Himself.”—Waterland, Third Sermon on Self-love. “To risk the happiness of the whole duration of our being in any case whatever, were it possible, would be foolish.”—Robert Hall’s Sermon on Modern Infidelity. “In the moral system the means are virtuous practice; the end, happiness.”— Warburton’s Divine Legation, book ii. Appendix.
24 “There is always understood to be a difference between an act of prudence and an act of duty. Thus, if I distrusted a man who owed me a sum of money, I should reckon it an act of prudence to get another person bound with him; but I should hardly call it an act of duty.... Now in what, you will ask, does the difference consist, inasmuch as, according to our account of the matter, both in the one case and the other, in acts of duty as well as acts of prudence, we consider solely what we ourselves shall gain or lose by the act? The difference, and the only difference, is this: that in the one case we consider what we shall gain or lose in the present world; in the other case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to come.”—Paley’s Moral Philosophy, ii. 3.
25 “Hence we may see the weakness and mistake of those falsely religious... who are scandalised at our being determined to the pursuit of virtue through any degree of regard to its happy consequences in this life.... For it is evident that the religious motive is precisely of the same kind, only stronger, as the happiness expected is greater and more lasting.”—Brown’s Essays on the Characteristics, p. 220.
26 “If a Christian, who has the view of happiness and misery in another life, be asked why a man must keep his word, he will give this as a reason, because God, who has the power of eternal life and death, requires it of us. But if an Hobbist be asked why, he will answer, because the public requires it, and the Leviathan will punish you if you do not. And if one of the old heathen philosophers had been asked, he would have answered, because it was dishonest, below the dignity of man, and opposite to virtue, the highest perfection of human nature, to do otherwise.”—Locke’s Essay, i. 3.
27 Thus Paley remarks that—“The Christian religion hath not ascertained the precise quantity of virtue necessary to salvation,” and he then proceeds to urge the probability of graduated scales of rewards and punishments. (Moral Philosophy, book i. ch. vii.)
28 This view was developed by Locke (Essay on the Human Understanding, book ii. ch. xxi.) Pascal, in a well-known passage, applied the same argument to Christianity, urging that the rewards and punishments it promises are so great, that it is the part of a wise man to embrace the creed, even though he believes it improbable, if there be but a possibility in its favour.
29 Cudworth, in his Immutable Morals, has collected the names of a number of the schoolmen who held this view. See, too, an interesting note in Miss Cobbe’s very learned Essay on Intuitive Morals, pp. 18, 19.
30 E.g. Soame Jenyns, Dr. Johnson, Crusius, Pascal, Paley, and Austin. Warburton is generally quoted in the list, but not I think quite fairly. See his theory, which is rather complicated (Divine Legation, i. 4). Waterland appears to have held this view, and also Condillac. See a very remarkable chapter on morals, in his Traité des Animaux, part ii. ch. vii. Closely connected with this doctrine is the notion that the morality of God is generically different from the morality of men, which having been held with more or less distinctness by many theologians (Archbishop King being perhaps the most prominent), has found in our own day an able defender in Dr. Mansel. Much information on the history of this doctrine will be found in Dr. Mansel’s Second Letter to Professor Goldwin Smith (Oxford, 1862).
31 Leibnitz noticed the frequency with which Supralapsarian Calvinists adopt this doctrine. (Théodicée, part ii. § 176.) Archbishop Whately, who from his connection with the Irish Clergy had admirable opportunities of studying the tendencies of Calvinism, makes a similar remark as the result of his own experience. (Whately’s Life, vol. ii. p. 339.)
32 “God designs the happiness of all His sentient creatures.... Knowing the tendencies of our actions, and knowing His benevolent purpose, we know His tacit commands.”—Austin’s Lectures on Jurisprudence, vol. i. p. 31. “The commands which He has revealed we must gather from the terms wherein they are promulgated. The commands which He has not revealed we must construe by the principle of utility.”—Ibid. p. 96. So Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book ii. ch. iv. v.
33 Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book i. ch. vii. The question of the disinterestedness of the love we should bear to God was agitated in the Catholic Church, Bossuet taking the selfish, and Fénelon the unselfish side. The opinions of Fénelon and Molinos on the subject were authoritatively condemned. In England, the less dogmatic character of the national faith, and also the fact that the great anti-Christian writer, Hobbes, was the advocate of extreme selfishness in morals, had, I think, a favourable influence upon the ethics of the church. Hobbes gave the first great impulse to moral philosophy in England, and his opponents were naturally impelled to an unselfish theory. Bishop Cumberland led the way, resolving virtue (like Hutcheson) into benevolence. The majority of divines, however, till the present century, have, I think, been on the selfish side.
34 Moral Philosophy, ii. 3.
35 Essay on the Human Understanding, ii. 28.
36 Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. iii. Mr. Mill observes that, “Bentham’s idea of the world is that of a collection of persons pursuing each his separate interest or pleasure, and the prevention of whom from jostling one another more than is unavoidable, may be attempted by hopes and fears derived from three sources—the law, religion, and public opinion. To these three powers, considered as binding human conduct, he gave the name of sanctions; the political sanction operating by the rewards and penalties of the law; the religious sanction by those expected from the ruler of the universe; and the popular, which he characteristically calls also the moral sanction, operating through the pains and pleasures arising from the favour or disfavour of our fellow-creatures.”—Dissertations, vol. i. pp. 362-363.
37 Hume on this, as on most other points, was emphatically opposed to the school of Hobbes, and even declared that no one could honestly and in good faith deny the reality of an unselfish element in man. Following in the steps of Butler, he explained it in the following passage:—“Hunger and thirst have eating and drinking for their end, and from the gratification of these primary appetites arises a pleasure which may become the object of another species of desire or inclination that is secondary and interested. In the same manner there are mental passions by which we are impelled immediately to seek particular objects, such as fame or power or vengeance, without any regard to interest, and when these objects are attained a pleasing enjoyment ensues.... Now where is the difficulty of conceiving that this may likewise be the case with benevolence and friendship, and that from the original frame of our temper we may feel a desire of another’s happiness or good, which by means of that affection becomes our own good, and is afterwards pursued, from the combined motives of benevolence and self-enjoyment?”—Hume’s Enquiry concerning Morals, Appendix II. Compare Butler, “If there be any appetite or any inward principle besides self-love, why may there not be an affection towards the good of our fellow-creatures, and delight from that affection’s being gratified and uneasiness from things going contrary to it?”—Sermon on Compassion.
38 “By sympathetic sensibility is to be understood the propensity that a man has to derive pleasure from the happiness, and pain from the unhappiness, of other sensitive beings.”—Bentham’s Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. vi. “The sense of sympathy is universal. Perhaps there never existed a human being who had reached full age without the experience of pleasure at another’s pleasure, of uneasiness at another’s pain.... Community of interests, similarity of opinion, are sources from whence it springs.”—Deontology, vol. i. pp. 169-170.
39 “The idea of the pain of another is naturally painful. The idea of the pleasure of another is naturally pleasurable.... In this, the unselfish part of our nature, lies a foundation, even independently of inculcation from without, for the generation of moral feelings”—Mill’s Dissertations, vol. i. p. 137. See, too, Bain’s Emotions and the Will, pp. 289, 313; and especially Austin’s Lectures on Jurisprudence. The first volume of this brilliant work contains, I think without exception, the best modern statement of the utilitarian theory in its most plausible form—a statement equally remarkable for its ability, its candour, and its uniform courtesy to opponents.
40 See a collection of passages from Aristotle, bearing on the subject, in Mackintosh’s Dissertation.
41 Cic. De Finibus, i. 5. This view is adopted in Tucker’s Light of Nature (ed. 1842), vol. i. p. 167. See, too, Mill’s Analysis of the Human Mind, vol. ii. p. 174.
42 Essay, book ii. ch. xxxiii.
43 Hutcheson On the Passions, § 1. The “secondary desires” of Hutcheson are closely related to the “reflex affections” of Shaftesbury. “Not only the outward beings which offer themselves to the sense are the objects of the affection; but the very actions themselves, and the affections of pity, kindness, gratitude, and their contraries, being brought into the mind by reflection, become objects. So that by means of this reflected sense, there arises another kind of affection towards those very affections themselves.”—Shaftesbury’s Enquiry concerning Virtue, book i. part ii. § 3.
44 See the preface to Hartley On Man. Gay’s essay is prefixed to Law’s translation of Archbishop King On the Origin of Evil.
45 “The case is this. We first perceive or imagine some real good; i.e. fitness to promote our happiness in those things which we love or approve of.... Hence those things and pleasures are so tied together and associated in our minds, that one cannot present itself, but the other will also occur. And the association remains even after that which at first gave them the connection is quite forgotten, or perhaps does not exist, but the contrary.”—Gay’s Essay, p. lii. “All affections whatsoever are finally resolvable into reason, pointing out private happiness, and are conversant only about things apprehended to be means tending to this end; and whenever this end is not perceived, they are to be accounted for from the association of ideas, and may properly enough be called habits.”—Ibid. p. xxxi.
46 Principally by Mr. James Mill, whose chapter on association, in his Analysis of the Human Mind, may probably rank with Paley’s beautiful chapter on happiness, at the head of all modern writings on the utilitarian side,—either of them, I think, being far more valuable than anything Bentham ever wrote on morals. This last writer—whose contempt for his predecessors was only equalled by his ignorance of their works, and who has added surprisingly little to moral science (considering the reputation he attained), except a barbarous nomenclature and an interminable series of classifications evincing no real subtlety of thought—makes, as far as I am aware, no use of the doctrine of association. Paley states it with his usual admirable clearness. “Having experienced in some instances a particular conduct to be beneficial to ourselves, or observed that it would be so, a sentiment of approbation rises up in our minds, which sentiment afterwards accompanies the idea or mention of the same conduct, although the private advantage which first existed no longer exist.”—Paley, Moral Philos. i. 5. Paley, however, made less use of this doctrine than might have been expected from so enthusiastic an admirer of Tucker. In our own day it has been much used by Mr. J. S. Mill.
47 This illustration, which was first employed by Hutcheson, is very happily developed by Gay (p. lii.). It was then used by Hartley, and finally Tucker reproduced the whole theory with the usual illustration without any acknowledgment of the works of his predecessors, employing however, the term “translation” instead of “association” of ideas. See his curious chapter on the subject, Light of Nature, book i. ch. xviii.
48 “It is the nature of translation to throw desire from the end upon the means, which thenceforward become an end capable of exciting an appetite without prospect of the consequences whereto they lead. Our habits and most of the desires that occupy human life are of this translated kind.”—Tucker’s Light of Nature, vol. ii. (ed. 1842), p. 281.
49 Mill’s Analysis of the Human Mind. The desire for posthumous fame is usually cited by intuitive moralists as a proof of a naturally disinterested element in man.
50 Mill’s Analysis.
51 Hartley On Man, vol. i. pp. 474-475.
52 “Benevolence... has also a high degree of honour and esteem annexed to it, procures us many advantages and returns of kindness, both from the person obliged and others, and is most closely connected with the hopes of reward in a future state, and of self-approbation or the moral sense; and the same things hold with respect to generosity in a much higher degree. It is easy therefore to see how such associations may be formed as to engage us to forego great pleasure, or endure great pain for the sake of others, how these associations may be attended with so great a degree of pleasure as to overrule the positive pain endured or the negative one from the foregoing of a pleasure, and yet how there may be no direct explicit expectation of reward either from God or man, by natural consequence or express appointment, not even of the concomitant pleasure that engages the agent to undertake the benevolent and generous action; and this I take to be a proof from the doctrine of association that there is and must be such a thing as pure disinterested benevolence; also a just account of the origin and nature of it.”—Hartley On Man, vol. i. pp. 473-474. See too Mill’s Analysis, vol. ii. p. 252.
53 Mill’s Analysis, vol. ii. pp. 244-247.
54 “With self-interest,” said Hartley, “man must begin; he may end in self-annihilation;” or as Coleridge happily puts it, “Legality precedes morality in every individual, even as the Jewish dispensation preceded the Christian in the world at large.”—Notes Theological and Political, p. 340. It might be retorted with much truth, that we begin by practising morality as a duty—we end by practising it as a pleasure, without any reference to duty. Coleridge, who expressed for the Benthamite theories a very cordial detestation, sometimes glided into them himself. “The happiness of man,” he says, “is the end of virtue, and truth is the knowledge of the means.” (The Friend, ed. 1850, vol. ii. p. 192.) “What can be the object of human virtue but the happiness of sentient, still more of moral beings?” (Notes Theol. and Polit. p. 351.) Leibnitz says, “Quand on aura appris à faire des actions louables par ambition, on les fera après par inclination.” (Sur l’ Art de connaître les Hommes.)
55 E.g. Mackintosh and James Mill. Coleridge in his younger days was an enthusiastic admirer of Hartley; but chiefly, I believe, on account of his theory of vibrations. He named his son after him, and described him in one of his poems as:—
“He of mortal kind
Wisest, the first who marked the ideal tribes
Up the fine fibres through the sentient brain.”
Religious Musings.
56 This position is elaborated in a passage too long for quotation by Mr. Austin. (Lectures on Jurisprudence, vol. i. p. 44.)
57 Hobbes defines conscience as “the opinion of evidence” (On Human Nature, ch. vi. §8). Locke as “our own opinion or judgment of the moral rectitude or pravity of our own actions” (Essay, book i. ch. iii. § 8). In Bentham there is very little on the subject; but in one place he informs us that “conscience is a thing of fictitious existence, supposed to occupy a seat in the mind” (Deontology, vol. i. p. 137); and in another he ranks “love of duty” (which he describes as an “impossible motive, in so far as duty is synonymous to obligation”) as a variety of the “love of power” (Springs of Action, ii.) Mr. Bain says, “conscience is an imitation within ourselves of the government without us.” (Emotions and Will, p. 313.)
58 “However much they [utilitarians] may believe (as they do) that actions and dispositions are only virtuous because they promote another end than virtue, yet this being granted... they not only place virtue at the very head of the things which are good as means to the ultimate end, but they also recognise as a psychological fact the possibility of its being to the individual a good in itself.... Virtue, according to the utilitarian doctrine, is not naturally and originally part of the end, but it is capable of becoming so.... What was once desired as an instrument for the attainment of happiness has come to be desired... as part of happiness.... Human nature is so constituted as to desire nothing which is not either a part of happiness or a means of happiness.”—J. S. Mill’s Utilitarianism, pp. 54, 55, 56, 58.
59 “A man is tempted to commit adultery with the wife of his friend. The composition of the motive is obvious. He does not obey the motive. Why? He obeys other motives which are stronger. Though pleasures are associated with the immoral act, pains are associated with it also—the pains of the injured husband, the pains of the wife, the moral indignation of mankind, the future reproaches of his own mind. Some men obey the first rather than the second motive. The reason is obvious. In these the association of the act with the pleasure is from habit unduly strong, the association of the act with pains is from want of habit unduly weak. This is the case of a bad education.... Among the different classes of motives, there are men who are more easily and strongly operated on by some, others by others. We have also seen that this is entirely owing to habits of association. This facility of being acted upon by motives of a particular description, is that which we call disposition.”—Mill’s Analysis, vol. ii. pp. 212, 213, &c. Adam Smith says, I think with much wisdom, that “the great secret of education is to direct vanity to proper objects.”—Moral Sentiments, part vi. § 3.
60 “Goodness in ourselves is the prospect of satisfaction annexed to the welfare of others, so that we please them for the pleasure we receive ourselves in so doing, or to avoid the uneasiness we should feel in omitting it. But God is completely happy in Himself, nor can His happiness receive increase or diminution from anything befalling His creatures; wherefore His goodness is pure, disinterested bounty, without any return of joy or satisfaction to Himself. Therefore it is no wonder we have imperfect notions of a quality whereof we have no experience in our own nature.”—Tucker’s Light of Nature, vol. i. p. 355. “It is the privilege of God alone to act upon pure, disinterested bounty, without the least addition thereby to His own enjoyment.”—Ibid. vol. ii. p. 279. On the other hand, Hutcheson asks, “If there be such disposition in the Deity, where is the impossibility of some small degree of this public love in His creatures, and why must they be supposed incapable of acting but from self-love?”—Enquiry concerning Moral Good, § 2.
61 “We gradually, through the influence of association, come to desire the means without thinking of the end; the action itself becomes an object of desire, and is performed without reference to any motive beyond itself. Thus far, it may still be objected that the action having, through association, become pleasurable, we are as much as before moved to act by the anticipation of pleasure, namely, the pleasure of the action itself. But granting this, the matter does not end here. As we proceed in the formation of habits, and become accustomed to will a particular act... because it is pleasurable, we at last continue to will it without any reference to its being pleasurable.... In this manner it is that habits of hurtful excess continue to be practised, although they have ceased to be pleasurable, and in this manner also it is that the habit of willing to persevere in the course which he has chosen, does not desert the moral hero, even when the reward... is anything but an equivalent for the suffering he undergoes, or the wishes he may have to renounce.”—Mill’s Logic (4th edition), vol. ii. pp. 416, 417.
62 “In regard to interest in the most extended, which is the original and only strictly proper sense of the word disinterested, no human act has ever been or ever can be disinterested.... In the only sense in which disinterestedness can with truth be predicated of human actions, it is employed... to denote, not the absence of all interest... but only the absence of all interest of the self-regarding class. Not but that it is very frequently predicated of human action in cases in which divers interests, to no one of which the appellation of self-regarding can with propriety be denied, have been exercising their influence, and in particular fear of God, or hope from God, and fear of ill-repute, or hope of good repute. If what is above be correct, the most disinterested of men is not less under the dominion of interest than the most interested. The only cause of his being styled disinterested, is its not having been observed that the sort of motive (suppose it sympathy for an individual or class) has as truly a corresponding interest belonging to it as any other species of motive has. Of this contradiction between the truth of the case and the language employed in speaking of it, the cause is that in the one case men have not been in the habit of making—as in point of consistency they ought to have made—of the word interest that use which in the other case they have been in the habit of making of it.”—Bentham’s Springs of Action, ii. § 2.
63 Among others Bishop Butler, who draws some very subtle distinctions on the subject in his first sermon “on the love of our neighbour.” Dugald Stewart remarks that “although we apply the epithet selfish to avarice and to low and private sensuality, we never apply it to the desire of knowledge or to the pursuits of virtue, which are certainly sources of more exquisite pleasure than riches or sensuality can bestow.”—Active and Moral Powers, vol. i. p. 19.
64 Sir W. Hamilton.
65 Cic. De Fin. lib. ii.
66 “As there is not any sort of pleasure that is not itself a good, nor any sort of pain the exemption from which is not a good, and as nothing but the expectation of the eventual enjoyment of pleasure in some shape, or of exemption from pain in some shape, can operate in the character of a motive, a necessary consequence is that if by motive be meant sort of motive, there is not any such thing as a bad motive.”—Bentham’s Springs of Action, ii. § 4. The first clauses of the following passage I have already quoted: “Pleasure is itself a good, nay, setting aside immunity from pain, the only good. Pain is in itself an evil, and indeed, without exception, the only evil, or else the words good and evil have no meaning. And this is alike true of every sort of pain, and of every sort of pleasure. It follows therefore immediately and incontestably that there is no such thing as any sort of motive that is in itself a bad one.”—Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. ix. “The search after motive is one of the prominent causes of men’s bewilderment in the investigation of questions of morals.... But this is a pursuit in which every moment employed is a moment wasted. All motives are abstractedly good. No man has ever had, can, or could have a motive different from the pursuit of pleasure or of shunning pain.”—Deontology, vol. i. p. 126. Mr. Mill’s doctrine appears somewhat different from this, but the difference is I think only apparent. He says: “The motive has nothing to do with the morality of the action, though much with the worth of the agent,” and he afterwards explains this last statement by saying that the “motive makes a great difference in our moral estimation of the agent, especially if it indicates a good or a bad habitual disposition, a bent of character from which useful or from which hurtful actions are likely to arise.”—Utilitarianism, 2nd ed. pp. 26-27.
67 This truth has been admirably illustrated by Mr. Herbert Spencer (Social Statics, pp. 1-8).
68 “On évalue la grandeur de la vertu en comparant les biens obtenus aux maux au prix desquels on les achète: l’excédant en bien mesure la valeur de la vertu, comme l’excédant en mal mesure le degré de haine que doit inspirer le vice.”—Ch. Comte, Traité de Législation, liv. ii. ch. xii.
69 M. Dumont, the translator of Bentham, has elaborated in a rather famous passage the utilitarian notions about vengeance. “Toute espèce de satisfaction entraînant une peine pour le délinquant produit naturellement un plaisir de vengeance pour la partie lésée. Ce plaisir est un gain. Il rappelle la parabole de Samson. C’est le doux qui sort du terrible. C’est le miel recueilli dans la gueule du lion. Produit sans frais, résultat net d’une opération nécessaire à d’autres titres, c’est une jouissance à cultiver comme toute autre; car le plaisir de la vengeance considérée abstraitement n’est comme tout autre plaisir qu’un bien en lui-même.”—Principes du Code pénal, 2me partie, ch. xvi. According to a very acute living writer of this school, “The criminal law stands to the passion of revenge in much the same relation as marriage to the sexual appetite” (J. F. Stephen, On the Criminal Law of England, p. 99). Mr. Mill observes that, “In the golden rule of Jesus of Nazareth, we read the complete spirit of the ethics of utility” (Utilitarianism, p. 24). It is but fair to give a specimen of the opposite order of extravagance. “So well convinced was Father Claver of the eternal happiness of almost all whom he assisted,” says this saintly missionary’s biographer, “that speaking once of some persons who had delivered a criminal into the hands of justice, he said, God forgive them; but they have secured the salvation of this man at the probable risk of their own.”—Newman’s Anglican Difficulties, p. 205.
70 De Ordine, ii. 4. The experiment has more than once been tried at Venice, Pisa, &c., and always with the results St. Augustine predicted.
71 The reader will here observe the very transparent sophistry of an assertion which is repeated ad nauseam by utilitarians. They tell us that a regard to the remote consequences of our actions would lead us to the conclusion that we should never perform an act which would not be conducive to human happiness if it were universally performed, or, as Mr. Austin expresses it, that “the question is if acts of this class were generally done or generally forborne or omitted, what would be the probable effect on the general happiness or good?” (Lectures on Jurisprudence, vol. i. p. 32.) The question is nothing of the kind. If I am convinced that utility alone constitutes virtue, and if I am meditating any particular act, the sole question of morality must be whether that act is on the whole useful, produces a net result of happiness. To determine this question I must consider both the immediate and the remote consequences of the act; but the latter are not ascertained by asking what would be the result if every one did as I do, but by asking how far, as a matter of fact, my act is likely to produce imitators, or affect the conduct and future acts of others. It may no doubt be convenient and useful to form classifications based on the general tendency of different courses to promote or diminish happiness, but such classifications cannot alter the morality of particular acts. It is quite clear that no act which produces on the whole more pleasure than pain can on utilitarian principles be vicious. It is, I think, equally clear that no one could act consistently on such a principle without being led to consequences which in the common judgment of mankind are grossly and scandalously immoral.
72 There are some very good remarks on the possibility of living a life of imagination wholly distinct from the life of action in Mr. Bain’s Emotions and Will, p. 246.
73 Bentham especially recurs to this subject frequently. See Sir J. Bowring’s edition of his works (Edinburgh, 1843), vol. i. pp. 142, 143, 562; vol. x. pp. 549-550.
74 “Granted that any practice causes more pain to animals than it gives pleasure to man; is that practice moral or immoral? And if exactly in proportion as human beings raise their heads out of the slough of selfishness they do not with one voice answer ‘immoral,’ let the morality of the principle of utility be for ever condemned.”—Mill’s Dissert. vol. ii. p. 485. “We deprive them [animals] of life, and this is justifiable—their pains do not equal our enjoyments. There is a balance of good.”—Bentham’s Deontology, vol. i. p. 14. Mr. Mill accordingly defines the principle of utility, without any special reference to man. “The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals, utility or the great happiness principle, holds that actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness.”—Utilitarianism, pp. 9-10.
75 The exception of course being domestic animals, which may be injured by ill treatment, but even this exception is a very partial one. No selfish reason could prevent any amount of cruelty to animals that were about to be killed, and even in the case of previous ill-usage the calculations of selfishness will depend greatly upon the price of the animal. I have been told that on some parts of the continent diligence horses are systematically under-fed, and worked to a speedy death, their cheapness rendering such a course the most economical.
76 Bentham, as we have seen, is of opinion that the gastronomic pleasure would produce the requisite excess of enjoyment. Hartley, who has some amiable and beautiful remarks on the duty of kindness to animals, without absolutely condemning, speaks with much aversion of the custom of eating “our brothers and sisters,” the animals. (On Man, vol. ii. pp. 222-223.) Paley, observing that it is quite possible for men to live without flesh-diet, concludes that the only sufficient justification for eating meat is an express divine revelation in the Book of Genesis. (Moral Philos. book ii. ch. 11.) Some reasoners evade the main issue by contending that they kill animals because they would otherwise overrun the earth; but this, as Windham said, “is an indifferent reason for killing fish.”
77 In commenting upon the French licentiousness of the eighteenth century, Hume says, in a passage which has excited a great deal of animadversion:—“Our neighbours, it seems, have resolved to sacrifice some of the domestic to the social pleasures; and to prefer ease, freedom, and an open commerce, to strict fidelity and constancy. These ends are both good, and are somewhat difficult to reconcile; nor must we be surprised if the customs of nations incline too much sometimes to the one side, and sometimes to the other.”—Dialogue.
78 There are few things more pitiable than the blunders into which writers have fallen when trying to base the plain virtue of chastity on utilitarian calculations. Thus since the writings of Malthus it has been generally recognised that one of the very first conditions of all material prosperity is to check early marriages, to restrain the tendency of population to multiply more rapidly than the means of subsistence. Knowing this, what can be more deplorable than to find moralists making such arguments as these the very foundation of morals?—“The first and great mischief, and by consequence the guilt, of promiscuous concubinage consists in its tendency to diminish marriages.” (Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book iii. part iii. ch. ii.) “That is always the most happy condition of a nation, and that nation is most accurately obeying the laws of our constitution, in which the number of the human race is most rapidly increasing. Now it is certain that under the law of chastity, that is, when individuals are exclusively united to each other, the increase of population will be more rapid than under any other circumstances.” (Wayland’s Elements of Moral Science, p. 298, 11th ed., Boston, 1839.) I am sorry to bring such subjects before the reader, but it is impossible to write a history of morals without doing so.
79 See Luther’s Table Talk.
80 Tillemont, Mém. pour servir à l’Hist. ecclésiastique, tome x. p. 57.
81 Τό τε ἀληθεύειν καὶ τὸ εὐεργετεῖν. (Ælian, Var. Hist. xii. 59.) Longinus in like manner divides virtue into εὐεργεσία καὶ ἀλήθεια. (De Sublim. § 1.) The opposite view in England is continually expressed in the saying, “You should never pull down an opinion until you have something to put in its place,” which can only mean, if you are convinced that some religious or other hypothesis is false, you are morally bound to repress or conceal your conviction until you have discovered positive affirmations or explanations as unqualified and consolatory as those you have destroyed.
82 See this powerfully stated by Shaftesbury. (Inquiry concerning Virtue, book i. part iii.) The same objection applies to Dr. Mansel’s modification of the theological doctrine—viz. that the origin of morals is not the will but the nature of God.
83 “The one great and binding ground of the belief of God and a hereafter is the law of conscience.”—Coleridge, Notes Theological and Political, p. 367. That our moral faculty is our one reason for maintaining the supreme benevolence of the Deity was a favourite position of Kant.
84 “Nescio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quasi sæculorum quoddam augurium futurorum; idque in maximis ingeniis altissimisque animis et exsistit maxime et apparet facillime.”—Cic. Tusc. Disp. i. 14.
85 “It is a calumny to say that men are roused to heroic actions by ease, hope of pleasure, recompense—sugar-plums of any kind in this world or the next. In the meanest mortal there lies something nobler. The poor swearing soldier hired to be shot has his ‘honour of a soldier,’ different from drill, regulations, and the shilling a day. It is not to taste sweet things, but to do noble and true things, and vindicate himself under God’s heaven as a God-made man, that the poorest son of Adam dimly longs. Show him the way of doing that, the dullest day-drudge kindles into a hero. They wrong man greatly who say he is to be seduced by ease. Difficulty, abnegation, martyrdom, death, are the allurements that act on the heart of man. Kindle the inner genial life of him, you have a flame that burns up all lower considerations.”—Carlyle’s Hero-worship, p. 237 (ed. 1858).
86 “Clamat Epicurus, is quem vos nimis voluptatibus esse deditum dicitis, non posse jucunde vivi nisi sapienter, honeste, justeque vivatur, nec sapienter, honeste, juste nisi jucunde.”—Cicero, De Fin. i. 18.
87 “The virtues to be complete must have fixed their residence in the heart and become appetites impelling to actions without further thought than the gratification of them; so that after their expedience ceases they still continue to operate by the desire they raise.... I knew a mercer who having gotten a competency of fortune, thought to retire and enjoy himself in quiet; but finding he could not be easy without business was forced to return to the shop and assist his former partners gratis, in the nature of a journeyman. Why then should it be thought strange that a man long inured to the practice of moral duties should persevere in them out of liking, when they can yield him no further advantage?”—Tucker’s Light of Nature, vol. i. p. 269. Mr. J. S. Mill in his Utilitarianism dwells much on the heroism which he thinks this view of morals may produce.
88 See Lactantius, Inst. Div. vi. 9. Montesquieu, in his Décadence de l’Empire romain, has shown in detail the manner in which the crimes of Roman politicians contributed to the greatness of their nation. Modern history furnishes only too many illustrations of the same truth.
89 “That quick sensibility which is the groundwork of all advances towards perfection increases the pungency of pains and vexations.”—Tucker’s Light of Nature, ii. 16, § 4.
90 This position is forcibly illustrated by Mr. Maurice in his fourth lecture On Conscience (1868). It is manifest that a tradesman resisting a dishonest or illegal trade custom, an Irish peasant in a disturbed district revolting against the agrarian conspiracy of his class, or a soldier in many countries conscientiously refusing in obedience to the law to fight a duel, would incur the full force of social penalties, because he failed to do that which was illegal or criminal.
91 See Brown On the Characteristics, pp. 206-209.
92 “A toothache produces more violent convulsions of pain than a phthisis or a dropsy. A gloomy disposition... may be found in very worthy characters, though it is sufficient alone to embitter life.... A selfish villain may possess a spring and alacrity of temper, which is indeed a good quality, but which is rewarded much beyond its merit, and when attended with good fortune will compensate for the uneasiness and remorse arising from all the other vices.”—Hume’s Essays: The Sceptic.
93 At the same time, the following passage contains, I think, a great deal of wisdom and of a kind peculiarly needed in England at the present day:—“The nature of the subject furnishes the strongest presumption that no better system will ever, for the future, be invented, in order to account for the origin of the benevolent from the selfish affections, and reduce all the various emotions of the human mind to a perfect simplicity. The case is not the same in this species of philosophy as in physics. Many an hypothesis in nature, contrary to first appearances, has been found, on more accurate scrutiny, solid and satisfactory.... But the presumption always lies on the other side in all enquiries concerning the origin of our passions, and of the internal operations of the human mind. The simplest and most obvious cause which can there be assigned for any phenomenon, is probably the true one.... The affections are not susceptible of any impression from the refinements of reason or imagination; and it is always found that a vigorous exertion of the latter faculties, necessarily, from the narrow capacity of the human mind, destroys all activity in the former.”—Hume’s Enquiry Concerning Morals, Append. II.
94 “The pleasing consciousness and self-approbation that rise up in the mind of a virtuous man, exclusively of any direct, explicit, consideration of advantage likely to accrue to himself from his possession of those good qualities” (Hartley On Man, vol. i. p. 493), form a theme upon which moralists of both schools are fond of dilating, in a strain that reminds one irresistibly of the self-complacency of a famous nursery hero, while reflecting upon his own merits over a Christmas-pie. Thus Adam Smith says, “The man who, not from frivolous fancy, but from proper motives, has performed a generous action, when he looks forward to those whom he has served, feels himself to be the natural object of their love and gratitude, and by sympathy with them, of the esteem and approbation of all mankind. And when he looks backward to the motive from which he acted, and surveys it in the light in which the indifferent spectator will survey it, he still continues to enter into it, and applauds himself by sympathy with the approbation of this supposed impartial judge. In both these points of view, his conduct appears to him every way agreeable.... Misery and wretchedness can never enter the breast in which dwells complete self-satisfaction.”—Theory of Moral Sentiments, part ii. ch. ii. § 2; part iii. ch. iii. I suspect that many moralists confuse the self-gratulation which they suppose a virtuous man to feel, with the delight a religious man experiences from the sense of the protection and favour of the Deity. But these two feelings are clearly distinct, and it will, I believe, be found that the latter is most strongly experienced by the very men who most sincerely disclaim all sense of merit. “Were the perfect man to exist,” said that good and great writer, Archer Butler, “he himself would be the last to know it; for the highest stage of advancement is the lowest descent in humility.” At all events, the reader will observe, that on utilitarian principles nothing could be more pernicious or criminal than that modest, humble, and diffident spirit, which diminishes the pleasure of self-gratulation, one of the highest utilitarian motives to virtue.
95 Hartley has tried in one place to evade this conclusion by an appeal to the doctrine of final causes. He says that the fact that conscience is not an original principle of our nature, but is formed mechanically in the manner I have described, does not invalidate the fact that it is intended for our guide, “for all the things which have evident final causes, are plainly brought about by mechanical means;” and he appeals to the milk in the breast, which is intended for the sustenance of the young, but which is nevertheless mechanically produced. (On Man, vol. ii. pp. 338-339.) But it is plain that this mode of reasoning would justify us in attributing an authoritative character to any habit—e.g. to that of avarice—which these writers assure us is in the manner of its formation an exact parallel to conscience. The later followers of Hartley certainly cannot be accused of any excessive predilection for the doctrine of final causes, yet we sometimes find them asking what great difference it can make whether (when conscience is admitted by both parties to be real) it is regarded as an original principle of our nature, or as a product of association? Simply this. If by the constitution of our nature we are subject to a law of duty which is different from and higher than our interest, a man who violates this law through interested motives, is deserving of reprobation. If on the other hand there is no natural law of duty, and if the pursuit of our interest is the one original principle of our being, no one can be censured who pursues it, and the first criterion of a wise man will be his determination to eradicate every habit (conscientious or otherwise) which impedes him in doing so.
96 On Human Nature, chap. ix. § 10.
97 Enquiry concerning Good and Evil.
98 This theory is noticed by Hutcheson, and a writer in the Spectator (No. 436) suggests that it may explain the attraction of prize-fights. The case of the pleasure derived from fictitious sorrow is a distinct question, and has been admirably treated in Lord Kames’ Essays on Morality. Bishop Butler notices (Second Sermon on Compassion), that it is possible for the very intensity of a feeling of compassion to divert men from charity by making them “industriously turn away from the miserable;” and it is well known that Goethe, on account of this very susceptibility, made it one of the rules of his life to avoid everything that could suggest painful ideas. Hobbes makes the following very characteristic comments on some famous lines of Lucretius: “From what passion proceedeth it that men take pleasure to behold from the shore the danger of those that are at sea in a tempest or in fight, or from a safe castle to behold two armies charge one another in the field? It is certainly in the whole sum joy, else men would never flock to such a spectacle. Nevertheless, there is both joy and grief, for as there is novelty and remembrance of our own security present, which is delight, so there is also pity, which is grief. But the delight is so far predominant that men usually are content in such a case to be spectators of the misery of their friends.” (On Human Nature, ch. ix. § 19.) Good Christians, according to some theologians, are expected to enjoy this pleasure in great perfection in heaven. “We may believe in the next world also the goodness as well as the happiness of the blest will be confirmed and advanced by reflections naturally arising from the view of the misery which some shall undergo, which seems to be a good reason for the creation of those beings who shall be finally miserable, and for the continuation of them in their miserable existence... though in one respect the view of the misery which the damned undergo might seem to detract from the happiness of the blessed through pity and commiseration, yet under another, a nearer and much more affecting consideration, viz. that all this is the misery they themselves were often exposed to and in danger of incurring, why may not the sense of their own escape so far overcome the sense of another’s ruin as quite to extinguish the pain that usually attends the idea of it, and even render it productive of some real happiness? To this purpose, Lucretius’ Suave mari,” etc. (Law’s notes to his Translation of King’s Origin of Evil, pp. 477, 479.)
99 See e.g. Reid’s Essays on the Active Powers, essay iii. ch. v.
100 The error I have traced in this paragraph will be found running through a great part of what Mr. Buckle has written upon morals—I think the weakest portion of his great work. See, for example, an elaborate confusion on the subject, History of Civilisation, vol. ii. p. 429. Mr. Buckle maintains that all the philosophers of what is commonly called “the Scotch school” (a school founded by the Irishman Hutcheson, and to which Hume does not belong), were incapable of inductive reasoning, because they maintained the existence of a moral sense or faculty, or of first principles, incapable of resolution; and he enters into a learned enquiry into the causes which made it impossible for Scotch writers to pursue or appreciate the inductive method. It is curious to contrast this view with the language of one, who, whatever may be the value of his original speculations, is, I conceive, among the very ablest philosophical critics of the present century. “Les philosophes écossais adoptèrent les procédés que Bacon avait recommandé d’appliquer à l’étude du monde physique, et les transportèrent dans l’étude du monde moral. Ils firent voir que l’induction baconienne, c’est-à-dire, l’induction précédée d’une observation scrupuleuse des phénomènes, est en philosophie comme en physique la seule méthode légitime. C’est un de leurs titres les plus honorables d’avoir insisté sur cette démonstration, et d’avoir en même temps joint l’exemple au précepte.... Il est vrai que le zèle des philosophes écossais en faveur de la méthode d’observation leur a presque fait dépasser le but. Ils ont incliné à renfermer la psychologie dans la description minutieuse et continuelle de phénomènes de l’âme sans réfléchir assez que cette description doit faire place à l’induction et au raisonnement déductif, et qu’une philosophie qui se bornerait à l’observation serait aussi stérile que celle qui s’amuserait à construire des hypothèses sans avoir préalablement observé.”—Cousin, Hist. de la Philos. Morale au xviiime Siècle, Tome 4, p. 14-16. Dugald Stewart had said much the same thing, but he was a Scotchman, and therefore, according to Mr. Buckle (Hist. of Civ. ii. pp. 485-86), incapable of understanding what induction was. I may add that one of the principal objections M. Cousin makes against Locke is, that he investigated the origin of our ideas before analysing minutely their nature, and the propriety of this method is one of the points on which Mr. Mill (Examination of Sir W. Hamilton) is at issue with M. Cousin.
101 M. Ch. Comte, in his very learned Traité de Législation, liv. iii. ch. iv., has made an extremely curious collection of instances in which different nations have made their own distinctive peculiarities of colour and form the ideal of beauty.
102 “How particularly fine the hard theta is in our English terminations, as in that grand word death, for which the Germans gutturise a sound that puts you in mind of nothing but a loathsome toad.”—Coleridge’s Table Talk, p. 181.
103 Mackintosh, Dissert. p. 238.
104 Lord Kames’ Essays on Morality (1st edition), pp. 55-56.
105 See Butler’s Three Sermons on Human Nature, and the preface.
106 Speaking of the animated statue which he regarded as a representative of man, Condillac says, “Le goût peut ordinairement contribuer plus que l’odorat à son bonheur et à son malheur.... Il y contribue même encore plus que les sons harmonieux, parce que le besoin de nourriture lui rend les saveurs plus nécessaires, et par conséquent les lui fait goûter avec plus de vivacité. La faim pourra la rendre malheureuse, mais dès qu’elle aura remarqué les sensations propres à l’apaiser, elle y déterminera davantage son attention, les désirera avec plus de violence et en jouira avec plus de délire.”—Traité des Sensations, 1re partie ch. x.
107 This is one of the favourite thoughts of Pascal, who, however, in his usual fashion dwells upon it in a somewhat morbid and exaggerated strain. “C’est une bien grande misère que de pouvoir prendre plaisir à des choses si basses et si méprisables... l’homme est encore plus à plaindre de ce qu’il peut se divertir à ces choses si frivoles et si basses, que de ce qu’il s’afflige de ses misères effectives.... D’ou vient que cet homme, qui a perdu depuis peu son fils unique, et qui, accablé de procès et de querelles, était ce matin si troublé, n’y pense plus maintenant? Ne vous en étonnez pas; il est tout occupé à voir par où passera un cerf que ses chiens poursuivent.... C’est une joie de malade et de frénétique.”—Pensées (Misère de l’homme).
108 “Quæ singula improvidam mortalitatem involvunt, solum ut inter ista certum sit, nihil esse certi, nec miserius quidquam homine, aut superbius. Cæteris quippe animantium sola victus cura est, in quo sponte naturæ benignitas sufficit: uno quidem vel præferenda cunctis bonis, quod de gloria, de pecunia, ambitione, superque de morte, non cogitant.”—Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. 5.
109 Paley, in his very ingenious, and in some respects admirable, chapter on happiness tries to prove the inferiority of animal pleasures, by showing the short time their enjoyment actually lasts, the extent to which they are dulled by repetition, and the cases in which they incapacitate men for other pleasures. But this calculation omits the influence of some animal enjoyments upon health and temperament. The fact, however, that health, which is a condition of body, is the chief source of happiness, Paley fully admits. “Health,” he says, “is the one thing needful... when we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in ourselves a happiness independent of any particular outward gratification.... This is an enjoyment which the Deity has annexed to life, and probably constitutes in a great measure the happiness of infants and brutes... of oysters, periwinkles, and the like; for which I have sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement.” On the test of happiness he very fairly says, “All that can be said is that there remains a presumption in favour of those conditions of life in which men generally appear most cheerful and contented; for though the apparent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of their real happiness, it is the best measure we have.”—Moral Philosophy, i. 6.
110 A writer who devoted a great part of his life to studying the deaths of men in different countries, classes, and churches, and to collecting from other physicians information on the subject, says: “À mesure qu’on s’éloigne des grands foyers de civilisation, qu’on se rapproche des plaines et des montagnes, le caractère de la mort prend de plus en plus l’aspect calme du ciel par un beau crépuscule du soir.... En général la mort s’accomplit d’une manière d’autant plus simple et naturelle qu’on est plus libre des innombrables liens de la civilisation.”—Lauvergne, De l’agonie de la Mort, tome i. pp. 131-132.
111 “I will omit much usual declamation upon the dignity and capacity of our nature, the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational to the animal part of our constitution, upon the worthiness, refinement, and delicacy of some satisfactions, or the meanness, grossness, and sensuality of others; because I hold that pleasures differ in nothing but in continuance and intensity.”—Paley’s Moral Philosophy, book i. ch. vi. Bentham in like manner said, “Quantity of pleasure being equal, pushpin is as good as poetry,” and he maintained that the value of a pleasure depends on—its (1) intensity, (2) duration, (3) certainty, (4) propinquity, (5) purity, (6) fecundity, (7) extent (Springs of Action). The recognition of the “purity” of a pleasure might seem to imply the distinction for which I have contended in the text, but this is not so. The purity of a pleasure or pain, according to Bentham, is “the chance it has of not being followed by sensations of the opposite kind: that is pain if it be a pleasure, pleasure if it be a pain.”—Morals and Legislation, i. § 8. Mr. Buckle (Hist. of Civilisation, vol. ii. pp. 399-400) writes in a somewhat similar strain, but less unequivocally, for he admits that mental pleasures are “more ennobling” than physical ones. The older utilitarians, as far as I have observed, did not even advert to the question. This being the case, it must have been a matter of surprise as well as of gratification to most intuitive moralists to find Mr. Mill fully recognising the existence of different kinds of pleasure, and admitting that the superiority of the higher kinds does not spring from their being greater in amount.—Utilitarianism, pp. 11-12. If it be meant by this that we have the power of recognising some pleasures as superior to others in kind, irrespective of all consideration of their intensity, their cost, and their consequences, I submit that the admission is completely incompatible with the utilitarian theory, and that Mr. Mill has only succeeded in introducing Stoical elements into his system by loosening its very foundation. The impossibility of establishing an aristocracy of enjoyments in which, apart from all considerations of consequences, some which give less pleasure and are less widely diffused are regarded as intrinsically superior to others which give more pleasure and are more general, without admitting into our estimate a moral element, which on utilitarian principles is wholly illegitimate, has been powerfully shown since the first edition of this book by Professor Grote, in his Examination of the Utilitarian Philosophy, chap. iii.
112 Büchner, Force et Matière, pp. 163-164. There is a very curious collection of the speculations of the ancient philosophers on this subject in Plutarch’s treatise, De Placitis Philos.
113 Aulus Gellius, Noctes, x. 23. The law is given by Dion. Halicarn. Valerius Maximus says, “Vini usus olim Romanis feminis ignotus fuit, ne scilicet in aliquod dedecus prolaberentur: quia proximus a Libero patre intemperantiæ gradus ad inconcessam Venerem esse consuevit” (Val. Max. ii. 1, § 5). This is also noticed by Pliny (Hist. Nat. xiv. 14), who ascribes the law to Romulus, and who mentions two cases in which women were said to have been put to death for this offence, and a third in which the offender was deprived of her dowry. Cato said that the ancient Romans were accustomed to kiss their wives for the purpose of discovering whether they had been drinking wine. The Bona Dea, it is said, was originally a woman named Fatua, who was famous for her modesty and fidelity to her husband, but who, unfortunately, having once found a cask of wine in the house, got drunk, and was in consequence scourged to death by her husband. He afterwards repented of his act, and paid divine honours to her memory, and as a memorial of her death, a cask of wine was always placed upon the altar during the rites. (Lactantius, Div. Inst. i. 22.) The Milesians, also, and the inhabitants of Marseilles are said to have had laws forbidding women to drink wine (Ælian, Hist. Var. ii. 38). Tertullian describes the prohibition of wine among the Roman women as in his time obsolete, and a taste for it was one of the great trials of St. Monica (Aug. Conf. x. 8).
114 “La loi fondamentale de la morale agit sur toutes les nations bien connues. Il y a mille différences dans les interprétations de cette loi en mille circonstances; mais le fond subsiste toujours le même, et ce fond est l’idée du juste et de l’injuste.”—Voltaire, Le Philosophe ignorant.
115 The feeling in its favour being often intensified by filial affection. “What is the most beautiful thing on the earth?” said Osiris to Horus. “To avenge a parent’s wrongs,” was the reply.—Plutarch De Iside et Osiride.
116 Hence the Justinian code and also St. Augustine (De Civ. Dei, xix. 15) derived servus from “servare,” to preserve, because the victor preserved his prisoners alive.
117 “Les habitants du Congo tuent les malades qu’ils imaginent ne pouvoir en revenir; c’est, disentils, pour leur épargner les douleurs de l’agonie. Dans l’île Formose, lorsqu’un homme est dangereusement malade, on lui passe un nœud coulant au col et on l’étrangle, pour l’arracher à la douleur.”—Helvétius, De l’Esprit, ii. 13. A similar explanation may be often found for customs which are quoted to prove that the nations where they existed had no sense of chastity. “C’est pareillement sous la sauvegarde des lois que les Siamoises, la gorge et les cuisses à moitié découvertes, portées dans les rues sur les palanquins, s’y présentent dans des attitudes très-lascives. Cette loi fut établie par une de leurs reines nommée Tirada, qui, pour dégoûter les hommes d’un amour plus déshonnête, crut devoir employer toute la puissance de la beauté.”—De l’Esprit, ii. 14.
118 “The contest between the morality which appeals to an external standard, and that which grounds itself on internal conviction, is the contest of progressive morality against stationary, of reason and argument against the deification of mere opinion and habit.” (Mill’s Dissertations, vol. ii. p. 472); a passage with a true Bentham ring. See, too, vol. i. p. 158. There is, however, a schism on this point in the utilitarian camp. The views which Mr. Buckle has expressed in his most eloquent chapter on the comparative influence of intellectual and moral agencies in civilisation diverge widely from those of Mr. Mill.
119 “Est enim sensualitas quædam vis animæ inferior.... Ratio vero vis animæ est superior.”—Peter Lombard, Sent. ii. 24.
120 Helvétius, De l’Esprit, discours iv. See too, Dr. Draper’s extremely remarkable History of Intellectual Development in Europe (New York, 1864), pp. 48, 53.
121 Plutarch, De Cohibenda Ira.
122 Lactantius, Div. Inst. i. 22. The mysteries of the Bona Dea became, however, after a time, the occasion of great disorders. See Juvenal, Sat. vi. M. Magnin has examined the nature of these rites (Origines du Théâtre, pp. 257-259).
123 The history of the vestals, which forms one of the most curious pages in the moral history of Rome, has been fully treated by the Abbé Nadal, in an extremely interesting and well-written memoir, read before the Académie des Belles-lettres, and republished in 1725. It was believed that the prayer of a vestal could arrest a fugitive slave in his flight, provided he had not got past the city walls. Pliny mentions this belief as general in his time. The records of the order contained many miracles wrought at different times to save the vestals or to vindicate their questioned purity, and also one miracle which is very remarkable as furnishing a precise parallel to that of the Jew who was struck dead for touching the ark to prevent its falling.
124 As for example the Sibyls and Cassandra. The same prophetic power was attributed in India to virgins.—Clem. Alexandrin. Strom. iii. 7.
125 This custom continued to the worst period of the empire, though it was shamefully and characteristically evaded. After the fall of Sejanus the senate had no compunction in putting his innocent daughter to death, but their religious feelings were shocked at the idea of a virgin falling beneath the axe. So by way of improving matters “filia constuprata est prius a carnifice, quasi impium esset virginem in carcere perire.”—Dion Cassius, lviii. 11. See too, Tacitus, Annal. v. 9. If a vestal met a prisoner going to execution the prisoner was spared, provided the vestal declared that the encounter was accidental. On the reverence the ancients paid to virgins, see Justus Lipsius, De Vesta et Vestalibus.
126 See his picture of the first night of marriage:—
“Tacitè subit ille supremus
Virginitatis amor, primæque modestia culpæ
Confundit vultus. Tunc ora rigantur honestis
Imbribus.”
Thebaidos, lib. ii. 232-34.
127 Bees (which Virgil said had in them something of the divine nature) were supposed by the ancients to be the special emblems or models of chastity. It was a common belief that the bee mother begot her young without losing her virginity. Thus in a fragment ascribed to Petronius we read,
“Sic sine concubitu textis apis excita ceris
Fervet, et audaci milite castra replet.”
Petron. De Varia Animalium Generatione.
So too Virgil:—
“Quod neque concubitu indulgent nec corpora segnes
In Venerem solvunt aut fœtus nixibus edunt.”—Georg. iv. 198-99.
Plutarch says that an unchaste person cannot approach bees, for they immediately attack him and cover him with stings. Fire was also regarded as a type of virginity. Thus Ovid, speaking of the vestals, says:—
“Nataque de fiamma corpora nulla vides:
Jure igitur virgo est, quæ semina nulla remittit
Nec capit, et comites virginitatis amat.”
“The Egyptians believed that there are no males among vultures, and they accordingly made that bird an emblem of nature.”—Ammianus Marcellinus, xvii. 4.
128 “La divinité étant considérée comme renfermant en elle toutes les qualités, toutes les forces intellectuelles et morales de l’homme, chacune de ces forces ou de ces qualités, conçue séparément, s’offrait comme un Être divin.... De-là aussi les contradictions les plus choquantes dans les notions que les anciens avaient des attributs divins.”—Maury, Hist. des Religions de la Grèce antique, tome i. pp. 578-579.
129 “The Church holds that it were better for sun and moon to drop from heaven, for the earth to fail, and for all the many millions who are upon it to die of starvation in extremest agony, so far as temporal affliction goes, than that one soul, I will not say should be lost, but should commit one single venial sin, should tell one wilful untruth, though it harmed no one, or steal one poor farthing without excuse.”—Newman’s Anglican Difficulties, p. 190.
130 There is a remarkable dissertation on this subject, called “The Limitations of Morality,” in a very ingenious and suggestive little work of the Benthamite school, called Essays by a Barrister (reprinted from the Saturday Review).
131 The following passage, though rather vague and rhetorical, is not unimpressive: “Oui, dit Jacobi, je mentirais comme Desdemona mourante, je tromperais comme Oreste quand il veut mourir à la place de Pylade, j’assassinerais comme Timoléon, je serais parjure comme Épaminondas et Jean de Witt, je me déterminerais au suicide comme Caton, je serais sacrilége comme David; car j’ai la certitude en moi-même qu’en pardonnant à ces fautes suivant la lettre l’homme exerce le droit souverain que la majesté de son être lui confère; il appose le sceau de sa divine nature sur la grâce qu’il accorde.”—Barchou de Penhoen, Hist. de la Philos. allemande, tome i. p. 295.
132 This equivocation seems to me to lie at the root of the famous dispute whether man is by nature a social being, or whether, as Hobbes averred, the state of nature is a state of war. Few persons who have observed the recent light thrown on the subject will question that the primitive condition of man was that of savage life, and fewer still will question that savage life is a state of war. On the other hand, it is, I think, equally certain that man necessarily becomes a social being in exact proportion to the development of the capacities of his nature.
133 One of the best living authorities on this question writes: “The asserted existence of savages so low as to have no moral standard is too groundless to be discussed. Every human tribe has its general views as to what conduct is right and what wrong, and each generation hands the standard on to the next. Even in the details of their moral standards, wide as their differences are, there is yet wider agreement throughout the human race.”—Tylor on Primitive Society, Contemporary Review, April 1873, p. 702.
134 The distinction between innate faculties evolved by experience and innate ideas independent of experience, and the analogy between the expansion of the former and that of the bud into the flower has been very happily treated by Reid. (On the Active Powers, essay iii. chap. viii. p. 4.) Professor Sedgwick, criticising Locke’s notion of the soul being originally like a sheet of white paper, beautifully says: “Naked man comes from his mother’s womb, endowed with limbs and senses indeed well fitted to the material world, yet powerless from want of use; and as for knowledge, his soul is one unvaried blank; yet has this blank been already touched by a celestial hand, and when plunged in the colours which surround it, it takes not its tinge from accident but design, and comes forth covered with a glorious pattern.” (On the Studies of the University, p. 54.) Leibnitz says: “L’esprit n’est point une table rase. Il est tout plein de caractères que la sensation ne peut que découvrir et mettre en lumière au lieu de les y imprimer. Je me suis servi de la comparaison d’une pierre de marbre qui a des veines plutôt que d’une pierre de marbre tout unie.... S’il y avait dans la pierre des veines qui marquassent la figure d’Hercule préférablement à d’autres figures,... Hercule y serait comme inné en quelque façon, quoiqu’il fallût du travail pour découvrir ces veines.”—Critique de l’Essai sur l’Entendement.
135 The argument against the intuitive moralists derived from savage life was employed at some length by Locke. Paley then adopted it, taking a history of base ingratitude related by Valerius Maximus, and asking whether a savage would view it with disapprobation. (Moral Phil. book i. ch. 5.) Dugald Stewart (Active and Moral Powers, vol. i. pp. 230-231) and other writers have very fully answered this, but the same objection has been revived in another form by Mr. Austin, who supposes (Lectures on Jurisprudence, vol. i. pp. 82-83) a savage who first meets a hunter carrying a dead deer, kills the hunter and steals the deer, and is afterwards himself assailed by another hunter whom he kills. Mr. Austin asks whether the savage would perceive a moral difference between these two acts of homicide? Certainly not. In this early stage of development, the savage recognises a duty of justice and humanity to the members of his tribe, but to no one beyond this circle. He is in a “state of war” with the foreign hunter. He has a right to kill the hunter and the hunter an equal right to kill him.
136 Everyone who is acquainted with metaphysics knows that there has been an almost endless controversy about Locke’s meaning on this point. The fact seems to be that Locke, like most great originators of thought, and indeed more than most, often failed to perceive the ultimate consequences of his principles, and partly through some confusion of thought, and partly through unhappiness of expression, has left passages involving the conclusions of both schools. As a matter of history the sensual school of Condillac grew professedly out of his philosophy. In defence of the legitimacy of the process by which these writers evolved their conclusions from the premisses of Locke, the reader may consult the very able lectures of M. Cousin on Locke. The other side has been treated, among others, by Dugald Stewart in his Dissertation, by Professor Webb in his Intellectualism of Locke, and by Mr. Rogers in an essay reprinted from the Edinburgh Review.
137 I make this qualification, because I believe that the denial of a moral nature in man capable of perceiving the distinction between duty and interest and the rightful supremacy of the former, is both philosophically and actually subversive of natural theology.
138 See the forcible passage in the life of Epicurus by Diogenes Laërtius. So Mackintosh: “It is remarkable that, while, of the three professors who sat in the Porch from Zeno to Posidonius, every one either softened or exaggerated the doctrines of his predecessor, and while the beautiful and reverend philosophy of Plato had in his own Academy degenerated into a scepticism which did not spare morality itself, the system of Epicurus remained without change; his disciples continued for ages to show personal honour to his memory in a manner which may seem unaccountable among those who were taught to measure propriety by a calculation of palpable and outward usefulness.”—Dissertation on Ethical Philosophy, p. 85, ed. 1836. See, too, Tennemann (Manuel de la Philosophie, ed. Cousin, tome i. p. 211).
139 Thus e.g. the magnificent chapters of Helvétius on the moral effects of despotism, form one of the best modern contributions to political ethics. We have a curious illustration of the emphasis with which this school dwells on the moral importance of institutions in a memoir of M. De Tracy, On the best Plan of National Education, which appeared first towards the close of the French Revolution, and was reprinted during the Restoration. The author, who was one of the most distinguished of the disciples of Condillac, argued that the most efficient of all ways of educating a people is, the establishment of a good system of police, for the constant association of the ideas of crime and punishment in the minds of the masses is the one effectual method of creating moral habits, which will continue to act when the fear of punishment is removed.
140 An important intellectual revolution is at present taking place in England. The ascendency in literary and philosophical questions which belonged to the writers of books is manifestly passing in a very great degree to weekly and even daily papers, which have long been supreme in politics, and have begun within the last ten years systematically to treat ethical and philosophical questions. From their immense circulation, their incontestable ability and the power they possess of continually reiterating their distinctive doctrines, from the impatience, too, of long and elaborate writings, which newspapers generate in the public, it has come to pass that these periodicals exercise probably a greater influence than any other productions of the day, in forming the ways of thinking of ordinary educated Englishmen. The many consequences, good and evil, of this change it will be the duty of future literary historians to trace, but there is one which is, I think, much felt in the sphere of ethics. An important effect of these journals has been to evoke a large amount of literary talent in the lawyer class. Men whose professional duties would render it impossible for them to write long books, are quite capable of treating philosophical subjects in the form of short essays, and have in fact become conspicuous in these periodicals. There has seldom, I think, before, been a time when lawyers occupied such an important literary position as at present, or when legal ways of thinking had so great an influence over English philosophy; and this fact has been eminently favourable to the progress of utilitarianism.
141 There are some good remarks on this point in the very striking chapter on the present condition of Christianity in Wilberforce’s Practical View.
142 See Reid’s Essays on the Active Powers, iii. i.
143 I say usually proportioned, because it is, I believe, possible for men to realise intensely suffering, and to derive pleasure from that very fact. This is especially the case with vindictive cruelty, but it is not, I think, altogether confined to that sphere. This question we shall have occasion to examine when discussing the gladiatorial shows. Most cruelty, however, springs from callousness, which is simply dulness of imagination.
144 The principal exception being where slavery, coexisting with advanced civilisation, retards or prevents the growth of industrial habits.
145 See Mr. Laing’s Travels in Sweden. A similar cause is said to have had a similar effect in Bavaria.
146 This has been, I think, especially the case with the Austrians.
147 See some remarkable instances of this in Cabanis, Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l’Homme.
148 Diog. Laërt. Pythag.
149 Plutarch, De Profectibus in Virt.
150 Diog. Laërt. Stilpo.
151 Clem. Alexand. Strom. vii.
152 Cicero, De Nat. Deorum, i. 1.
153 Lactant. Inst. Div. i. 5.
154 “Pythagoras ita definivit quid esset Deus: Animus qui per universas mundi partes, omnemque naturam commeans atque diffusus, ex quo omnia quæ nascuntur animalia vitam capiunt.”—Ibid. Lactantius in this chapter has collected several other philosophic definitions of the Divinity. See too Plutarch, De Placit. Philos. Tertullian explains the stoical theory by an ingenious illustration: “Stoici enim volunt Deum sic per materiem decucurrisse quomodo mel per favos.”—Tert. De Anima.
155 As Cicero says: “Epicurus re tollit, oratione relinquit, deos.”—De Nat. Deor. i. 44.
156 Sometimes, however, they restricted its operation to the great events of life. As an interlocutor in Cicero says: “Magna dii curant, parva negligunt.”—Cic. De Natur. Deor. ii. 66. Justin Martyr notices (Trypho, i.) that some philosophers maintained that God cared for the universal or species, but not for the individual. Seneca maintains that the Divinity has determined all things by an inexorable law of destiny, which He has decreed, but which He Himself obeys. (De Provident. v.)
157 See on this theory Cicero, De Natur. Deor. i. 42; Lactantius, Inst. Div. i. 11.
158 Diog. Laërt. Vit. Zeno. St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, iv. 11. Maximus of Tyre, Dissert. x. (in some editions xxix.) § 8. Seneca, De Beneficiis, iv. 7-8. Cic. De Natur. Deor. i. 15. Cicero has devoted the first two books of this work to the stoical theology. A full review of the allegorical and mythical interpretations of paganism is given by Eusebius, Evang. Præpar. lib. iii.
159 St. Aug. De Civ. vii. 5.
160 Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. 1.
161 “Nec vero Deus ipse qui intelligitur a nobis, alio modo intelligi potest nisi mens soluta quædam et libera, segregata ab omni concretione mortali, omnia sentiens et movens, ipsaque prædita motu sempiterno.”—Tusc. Quæst. i. 27.
162 Senec. Quæst. Nat. ii. 45.
163 “Estne Dei sedes, nisi terra et pontus et aër.
Et cœlum et virtus? Superos quid quærimus ultra?
Jupiter est quodcumque vides, quodcumque moveris.”
Pharsal. ix. 578-80.
164 “Quæve anus tam excors inveniri potest, quæ illa, quæ quondam credebantur apud inferos portenta, extimescat?”—Cic. De Nat. Deor. ii. 2.
“Esse aliques Manes et subterranea regna...
Nec pueri credunt nisi qui nondum ære lavantur.”
Juv. Sat. ii. 149, 152.
See on this subject a good review by the Abbé Freppel, Les Pères Apostoliques, leçon viii.
165 Cicero, De Leg. i. 14; Macrobius, In. Som. Scip. i. 10.
166 See his works De Divinatione and De Nat. Deorum, which form a curious contrast to the religious conservatism of the De Legibus, which was written chiefly from a political point of view.
167 Eusebius, Præp. Evang. lib. iv.
168 The oracles first gave their answers in verse, but their bad poetry was ridiculed, and they gradually sank to prose, and at last ceased. Plutarch defended the inspiration of the bad poetry on the ground that the inspiring spirit availed itself of the natural faculties of the priestess for the expression of its infallible truths—a theory which is still much in vogue among Biblical critics, and is, I believe, called dynamical inspiration. See Fontenelle, Hist. des Oracles (1st ed.), pp. 292-293.
169 See the famous description of Cato refusing to consult the oracle of Jupiter Ammon in Lucan, Phars. ix.; and also Arrian, ii. 7. Seneca beautifully says, “Vis deos propitiare? bonus esto. Satis illos coluit quisquis imitatus est.”—Ep. xcv.
170 Cicero, De Divin. ii. 24.
171 Aulus Gellius, Noct. Att. xv. 22.
172 See a long string of witticisms collected by Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, ou Mémoires pour servir à l’Histoire de l’Esprit humain (Venise, 1735), tome i. pp. 386-387.
173 See Cicero, De Natura Deorum; Seneca, De Brev. Vit. c. xvi.; Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. 5; Plutarch, De Superstitione.
174 “Olim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum,
Cum faber, incertus scamnum faceretne Priapum,
Maluit esse Deum.”
Sat. I. viii. 1-3.
175 There is a very curious discussion on this subject, reported to have taken place between Apollonius of Tyana and an Egyptian priest. The former defended the Greek fashion of worshipping the Divinity under the form of the human image, sculptured by Phidias and Praxiteles, this being the noblest form we can conceive, and therefore the least inadequate to the Divine perfections. The latter defended the Egyptian custom of worshipping animals, because, as he said, it is blasphemous to attempt to conceive an image of the Deity, and the Egyptians therefore concentrate the imagination of the worshipper on objects that are plainly merely allegorical or symbolical, and do not pretend to offer any such image (Philos. Apoll. of Tyana, vi. 19). Pliny shortly says, “Effigiem Dei formamque quærere imbecillitatis humanæ reor” (Hist. Nat. ii. 5). See too Max. Tyrius, Diss. xxxviii. There was a legend that Numa forbade all idols, and that for 200 years they were unknown in Rome (Plutarch, Life of Numa). Dion Chrysostom said that the Gods need no statues or sacrifices, but that by these means we attest our devotion to them (Orat. xxxi.). On the vanity of rich idols, see Plutarch, De Superstitione; Seneca, Ep. xxxi.
176 1 Lact. Inst. Div. vi. 25.
177 Dion. Halic. ii.; Polyb. vi. 56.
178 St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, iv. 31.
179 Epictetus, Enchir. xxxix.
180 Cicero, speaking of the worship of deified men, says, “indicat omnium quidem animos immortales esse, sed fortium bonorumque divinos.”—De Leg. ii. 11. The Roman worship of the dead, which was the centre of the domestic religion, has been recently investigated with much ability by M. Coulanges (La Cité antique).
181 On the minute supervision exercised by the censors on all the details of domestic life, see Aul. Gell. Noct. ii. 24; iv. 12, 20.
182 Livy, xxxix. 6.
183 Vell. Paterculus, i. 11-13; Eutropius, iv. 6. Sallust ascribed the decadence of Rome to the destruction of its rival, Carthage.
184 Plutarch, De Adulatore et Amico.
185 There is much curious information about the growth of Roman luxury in Pliny (Hist. Nat. lib. xxxiv.). The movement of decomposition has been lately fully traced by Mommsen (Hist. of Rome); Döllinger (Jew and Gentile); Denis (Hist. des Idées morales dans l’Antiquité); Pressensé (Hist. des trois premiers Siècles); in the histories of Champagny, and in the beautiful closing chapters of the Apôtres of Renan.
186 Sueton. Aug. xvi.
187 Ibid. Calig. v.
188 Persius, Sat. ii.; Horace, Ep. i. 16, vv. 57-60.
189 See, on the identification of the Greek and Egyptian myths, Plutarch’s De Iside et Osiride. The Greek and Roman gods were habitually regarded as identical, and Cæsar and Tacitus, in like manner, identified the deities of Gaul and Germany with those of their own country. See Döllinger, Jew and Gentile, vol. ii. pp. 160-165.
190 “Ego deûm genus esse semper dixi et dicam cœlitum; Sed eos non curare opinor quid agat hominum genus.”
Cicero adds: “magno plausu loquitur assentiente populo.”—De Divin. ii. 50.
191 Plutarch, De Superstitione.
192 St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, vi. 6; Tertul. Apol. 15; Arnobius, Adv. Gentes, iv.
193 “Pars alia et hanc pellit, astroque suo eventus assignat, nascendi legibus; semelque in omnes futuros unquam Deo decretum; in reliquum vero otium datum. Sedere cœpit sententia hæc pariterque et eruditum vulgus et rude in eam cursu vadit. Ecce fulgurum monitus, oraculorum præscita, aruspicum prædicta, atque etiam parva dictu, in auguriis sternumenta et offensiones pedum.”—Hist. Nat. ii. 5. Pliny himself expresses great doubt about astrology giving many examples of men with different destinies, who had been born at the same time, and therefore under the same stars (vii. 50). Tacitus expresses complete doubt about the existence of Providence. (Ann. vi. 22.) Tiberius is said to have been very indifferent to the gods and to the worship of the temples, being wholly addicted to astrology and convinced that all things were pre-ordained. (Suet. Tib. lxix.)
194 Ammianus Marcellinus, xxviii.
195 De Profectibus in Virt. It was originally the custom at Roman feasts to sing to a pipe the actions and the virtues of the greatest men. (Cic. Tusc. Quæst. iv.)
196 E.g. Epictetus, Ench. lii. Seneca is full of similar exhortations.
197 According to Cicero, the first Latin work on philosophy was by the Epicurean Amafanius. (Tusc. Quæst. iv.)
198 See on the great perfection of the character of Epicurus his life by Diogenes Laërtius, and on the purity of the philosophy he taught and the degree in which it was distorted and misrepresented by his Roman followers. Seneca De Vita Beata, c. xii. xiii. and Ep. xxi. Gassendi, in a very interesting little work entitled Philosophiæ Epicuri Syntagma, has abundantly proved the possibility of uniting Epicurean principles with a high code of morals. But probably the most beautiful picture of the Epicurean system is the first book of the De Finibus, in which Cicero endeavours to paint it as it would have been painted by its adherents. When we remember that the writer of this book was one of the most formidable and unflinching opponents of Epicureanism in all the ancient world, it must be owned that it would be impossible to find a grander example of that noble love of truth, that sublime and scrupulous justice to opponents, which was the pre-eminent glory of ancient philosophers, and which, after the destruction of philosophy, was for many centuries almost unknown in the world. It is impossible to doubt that Epicureanism was logically compatible with a very high degree of virtue. It is, I think, equally impossible to doubt that its practical tendency was towards vice.
199 Mr. Grote gives the following very clear summary of Plato’s ethical theory, which he believes to be original:—“Justice is in the mind a condition analogous to good health and strength in the body. Injustice is a condition analogous to sickness, corruption, impotence in the body.... To possess a healthy body is desirable for its consequences as a means towards other constituents of happiness, but it is still more desirable in itself as an essential element of happiness per se, i.e., the negation of sickness, which would of itself make us miserable.... In like manner, the just mind blesses the possessor twice: first and chiefly by bringing to him happiness in itself; next, also, as it leads to ulterior happy results. The unjust mind is a curse to its possessor in itself and apart from results, though it also leads to ulterior results which render it still more a curse to him.”—Grote’s Plato, vol. iii. p. 131. According to Plutarch, Aristo of Chio defined virtue as “the health of the soul.” (De Virtute Morali.)
200 “Beata est ergo vita conveniens naturæ suæ; quæ non aliter contingere potest quam si primum sana mens est et in perpetuâ possessione sanitatis suæ.”—Seneca, De Vita Beata, c. iii.
201 The famous paradox that “the sage could be happy even in the bull of Phalaris,” comes from the writings not of Zeno but of Epicurus—though the Stoics adopted and greatly admired it. (Cic. Tusc. ii. See Gassendi, Philos. Epicuri Syntagma, pars iii. c. 1.)
202 “Sed nescio quomodo dum lego assentior; cum posui librum et mecum ipse de immortalitate animorum cœpi cogitare, assensio omnis illa elabitur.”—Cic. Tusc. i.
203 Sallust, Catilina, cap. li.
204 See that most impressive passage (Hist. Nat. vii. 56). That the sleep of annihilation is the happiest end of man is a favourite thought of Lucretius. Thus:
“Nil igitur mors est, ad nos neque pertinet hilum,
Quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.”—iii. 842.
This mode of thought has been recently expressed in Mr. Swinburne’s very beautiful poem on The Garden of Proserpine.
205 Diog. Laërtius. The opinion of Chrysippus seems to have prevailed, and Plutarch (De Placit. Philos.) speaks of it as that of the school. Cicero sarcastically says, “Stoici autem usuram nobis largiuntur, tanquam cornicibus: diu mansuros aiunt animos; semper, negant.”—Tusc. Disp. i. 31.
206 It has been very frequently asserted that Antigonus of Socho having taught that virtue should be practised for its own sake, his disciple, Zadok, the founder of the Sadducees, inferred the non-existence of a future world; but the evidence for this whole story is exceedingly unsatisfactory. The reader may find its history in a very remarkable article by Mr. Twisleton on Sadducees, in Smith’s Biblical Dictionary.
207 On the Stoical opinions about a future life see Martin, La Vie future (Paris, 1858); Courdaveaux De l’immortalité de l’âme dans le Stoïcisme (Paris, 1857); and Alger’s Critical Hist. of the Doctrine of a Future Life (New York, 1866).
208 His arguments are met by Cicero in the Tusculans.
209 See a collection of passages from his discourses collected by M. Courdaveaux, in the introduction to his French translation of that book.
210 Stobæus, Eclog. Physic. lib. i. cap. 52.
211 In his consolations to Marcia, he seems to incline to a belief in the immortality, or at least the future existence, of the soul. In many other passages, however, he speaks of it as annihilated at death.
212 “Les Stoïciens ne faisaient aucunement dépendre la morale de la perspective des peines ou de la rémunération dans une vie future.... La croyance à l’immortalité de l’âme n’appartenait donc, selon leur manière de voir, qu’à la physique, c’est-à-dire à la psychologie.”—Degerando, Hist. de la Philos. tome iii. p. 56.
213 “Panætius igitur, qui sine controversia de officiis accuratissime disputavit, quemque nos, correctione quadam adhibita, potissimum secuti sumus.”—De Offic. iii. 2.
214 Marcus Aurelius thanks Providence, as for one of the great blessings of his life, that he had been made acquainted with the writings of Epictetus. The story is well known how the old philosopher warned his master, who was beating him, that he would soon break his leg, and when the leg was broken, calmly remarked, “I told you you would do so.” Celsus quoted this in opposition to the Christians, asking, “Did your leader under suffering ever say anything so noble?” Origen finely replied, “He did what was still nobler—He kept silence.” A Christian anchorite (some say St. Nilus, who lived in the beginning of the fifth century) was so struck with the Enchiridion of Epictetus, that he adapted it to Christian use. The conversations of Epictetus, as reported by Arrian, are said to have been the favourite reading of Toussaint l’Ouverture.
215 Tacitus had used this expression before Milton: “Quando etiam sapientibus cupido gloriæ novissima exuitur.”—Hist. iv. 6.
216 Two remarkable instances have come down to us of eminent writers begging historians to adorn and even exaggerate their acts. See the very curious letters of Cicero to the historian Lucceius (Ep. ad Divers. v. 12); and of the younger Pliny to Tacitus (Ep. vii. 33). Cicero has himself confessed that he was too fond of glory.
217 “Unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem;
Non ponebat enim rumores ante salutem.”
—Ennius.
218 See the beautiful description of Cato’s tranquillity under insults. Seneca, De Ira, ii. 33; De Const. Sap. 1, 2.
219 De Officiis, iii. 9.
220 Tusc. ii. 26.
221 Seneca, De Vit. Beat. c. xx.
222 Seneca, Ep. cxiii.
223 Seneca, Ep. lxxxi.
224 Persius, Sat. i. 45-47.
225 Epictetus, Ench. xxiii.
226 Seneca, De Ira, iii. 41.
227 Seneca, Cons. ad Helv. xiii.
228 Marc. Aur. vii. 67.
229 Marc. Aur. iv. 20.
230 Pliny, Ep. i. 22.
231 “Non dux, sed comes voluptas.”—De Vit. Beat. c. viii.
232 “Voluptas non est merces nec causa virtutis sed accessio; nec quia delectat placet sed quia placet delectat.”—Ibid., c. ix.
233 Peregrinus apud Aul. Gellius, xii. 11. Peregrinus was a Cynic, but his doctrine on this point was identical with that of the Stoics.
234 Marc. Aurel. ix. 42.
235 Marc. Aurel. v. 6.
236 Seneca, however, in one of his letters (Ep. lxxv.), subtilises a good deal on this point. He draws a distinction between affections and maladies. The first, he says, are irrational, and therefore reprehensible movements of the soul, which, if repeated and unrepressed, tend to form an irrational and evil habit, and to the last he in this letter restricts the term disease. He illustrates this distinction by observing that colds and any other slight ailments, if unchecked and neglected, may produce an organic disease. The wise man, he says, is wholly free from moral disease, but no man can completely emancipate himself from affections, though he should make this his constant object.
237 De Clem. ii. 6, 7.
238 “Peccantes vero quid habet cur oderit, cum error illos in hujusmodi delicta compellat?”—Sen. De Ira, i. 14. This is a favourite thought of Marcus Aurelius, to which he reverts again and again. See, too, Arrian, i. 18.
239 “Ergo ne homini quidem nocebimus quia peccavit sed ne peccet, nec unquam ad præteritum sed ad futurum pœna referetur.”—Ibid. ii. 31. In the philosophy of Plato, on the other hand, punishment was chiefly expiatory and purificatory. (Lerminier, Introd. à l’Histoire du Droit, p. 123.)
240 Seneca, De Constant. Sap. v. Compare and contrast this famous sentence of Anaxagoras with that of one of the early Christian hermits. Someone told the hermit that his father was dead. “Cease your blasphemy,” he answered, “my father is immortal.”—Socrates, Eccl. Hist. iv 23.
241 Epictetus, Ench. 16, 18.
242 The dispute about whether anything but virtue is a good, was, in reality, a somewhat childish quarrel about words; for the Stoics, who indignantly denounced the Peripatetics for maintaining the affirmative, admitted that health, friends, &c., should be sought not as “goods” but as “preferables.” See a long discussion on this matter in Cicero (De Finib. lib. iii. iv.). The Stoical doctrine of the equality of all vices was formally repudiated by Marcus Aurelius, who maintained (ii. 10), with Theophrastus, that faults of desire were worse than faults of anger. The other Stoics, while dogmatically asserting the equality of all virtues as well as the equality of all vices, in their particular judgments graduated their praise or blame much in the same way as the rest of the world.
243 See Seneca (Ep. lxxxix.). Seneca himself, however, has devoted a work to natural history, but the general tendency of the school was certainly to concentrate all attention upon morals, and all, or nearly all the great naturalists were Epicureans. Cicero puts into the mouth of the Epicurean the sentence, “Omnium autem rerum natura cognita levamur superstitione, liberamur mortis metu, non conturbamur ignoratione rerum” (De Fin. i.); and Virgil expressed an eminently Epicurean sentiment in his famous lines:—
“Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Quique metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque
Acherontis avari.”
Georg. 490-492.
244 Plutarch, Cato Major.
245 Cicero, Ad Attic. vi. 2.
246 This contrast is noticed and largely illustrated by M. Montée in his interesting little work Le Stoïcisme à Rome, and also by Legendre in his Traité de l’Opinion, ou Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire de l’esprit humain (Venise, 1735).
247 “Atque hoc quidem omnes mortales sic habent... commoditatem prosperitatemque vitæ a diis se habere, virtutem autem nemo unquam acceptam deo retulit. Nimirum recte. Propter virtutem enim jure laudamur et in virtute recte gloriamur. Quod non contingeret si id donum a deo, non a nobis haberemus.”—Cicero, De Nat. Deor. iii. 36.
248 Ep. i. 18.
249 Seneca Ep. lxvi.
250 Lucretius, v. It was a Greek proverb, that Apollo begat Æsculapius to heal the body, and Plato to heal the soul. (Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, tome i. p. 197.)
251 “Orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano:
Fortem posce animum, mortis terrore carentem....
Monstro, quod ipse tibi possis dare.”
Juvenal, Sat. x. 356.
Marcus Aurelius recommends prayer, but only that we may be freed from evil desires. (ix. 11.)
252 Seneca, Ep. lxvi.
253 Ibid. Ep. liii.
254 De Const. Sap. viii.
255 Ench. xlviii.
256 Arrian, i. 12.
257 Arrian, ii. 8. The same doctrine is strongly stated in Seneca, Ep. xcii.
258 Cicero, De Nat. Deor. ii. 66.
259 Ep. lxxxiii. Somewhat similar sentiments are attributed to Thales and Bion (Diog. Laërt.).
260 Ep. xli. There are some beautiful sentiments of this kind in Plutarch’s treatise, De Sera Numinis Vindicta. It was a saying of Pythagoras, that “we become better as we approach the gods.”
261 Marc. Aur. iii. 5.
262 Marcus Aurelius.
263 Seneca, Præf. Nat. Quæst. iii.
264 Marc. Aur. x. 25.
265 Epict. Ench. xvii.
266 Epict. Ench. xi.
267 Seneca, De Prov. i.
268 Ibid. iv.
269 Marc. Aurel. ii. 2, 3.
270 The language in which the Stoics sometimes spoke of the inexorable determination of all things by Providence would appear logically inconsistent with free will. In fact, however, the Stoics asserted the latter doctrine in unequivocal language, and in their practical ethics even exaggerated its power. Aulus Gellius (Noct. Att. vi. 2) has preserved a passage in which Chrysippus exerted his subtlety in reconciling the two things. See, too, Arrian, i. 17.
271 We have an extremely curious illustration of this mode of thought in a speech of Archytas of Tarentum on the evils of sensuality, which Cicero has preserved. He considers the greatest of these evils to be that the vice predisposes men to unpatriotic acts. “Nullam capitaliorem pestem quam corporis voluptatem, hominibus a natura datam.... Hinc patriæ proditiones, hinc rerumpublicarum eversiones, hinc cum hostibus clandestina colloquia nasci,” etc.—Cicero, De Senect. xii.
272 Diog. Laërt. Anax.
273 “Cari sunt parentes, cari liberi, propinqui, familiares; sed omnes omnium caritates patria una complexa est; pro qua quis bonus dubitet mortem oppetere si ei sit profuturus?”—De Offic. i. 17.
274 See Seneca, Consol. ad Helviam and De Otio Sapien.; and Plutarch, De Exilio. The first of these works is the basis of one of the most beautiful compositions in the English language, Bolingbroke’s Reflections on Exile.
275 De Officiis.
276 Epist. i. 10.
277 “Tota enim philosophorum vita, ut ait idem, commentatio mortis est.”—Cicero, Tusc. i. 30, ad fin.
278 Essay on Death.
279 Spinoza, Ethics, iv. 67.
280 Camden. Montalembert notices a similar legend as existing in Brittany (Les Moines d’Occident, tome ii. p. 287). Procopius (De Bello Goth. iv. 20) says that it is impossible for men to live in the west of Britain, and that the district is believed to be inhabited by the souls of the dead.
281 In his De Sera Numinis Vindicta and his Consolatio ad Uxorem.
282 In the Phædo, passim. See, too, Marc. Aurelius, ii. 12.
283 See a very striking letter of Epicurus quoted by Diogenes Laërt. in his life of that philosopher. Except a few sentences, quoted by other writers, these letters were all that remained of the works of Epicurus, till the recent discovery of one of his treatises at Herculaneum.
284 Tusc. Quæst. i.
285 Consol. ad Polyb. xxvii.
286 Maury, Hist. des Religions de la Grèce antique, tom. i. pp. 582-588. M. Ravaisson, in his Memoir on Stoicism (Acad. des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres, tom. xxi.) has enlarged on the terrorism of paganism, but has, I think, exaggerated it. Religions which selected games as the natural form of devotion can never have had any very alarming character.
287 Plutarch, Ad Apollonium.
288 Ibid.
289 Cic. Tusc. Quæst. i.
290 Philost. Apoll. of Tyan. v. 4. Hence their passion for suicide, which Silius Italicus commemorates in lines which I think very beautiful:—
“Prodiga gens animæ et properare facillima mortem;
Namque ubi transcendit florentes viribus annos
Impatiens ævi, spernit novisse senectam
Et fati modus in dextra est.”—i. 225-228.
Valerius Maximus (ii. vi. § 12) speaks of Celts who celebrated the birth of men with lamentation, and their deaths with joy.
291 Aulus Gellius, Noctes, i. 3.
292 Tacitus, Annales, xv. 62.
293 Sueton. Titus, 10.
294 Capitolinus, Antoninus.
295 See the beautiful account of his last hours given by Ammianus Marcellinus and reproduced by Gibbon. There are some remarks well worth reading about the death of Julian, and the state of thought that rendered such a death possible, in Dr. Newman’s Discourses on University Education, lect. ix.
296 “Lex non pœna mors” was a favourite saying among the ancients. On the other hand, Tertullian very distinctly enunciated the patristic view, “Qui autem primordia hominis novimus, audenter determinamus mortem non ex natura secutam hominem sed ex culpa.”—De Anima, 52.
297 Plutarch, Ad Uxorem.
298 St. Augustine, Epist. 166.
299 “At hoc quidem commune est omnium philosophorum, non eorum modo qui deum nihil habere ipsum negotii dicunt, et nihil exhibere alteri; sed eorum etiam, qui deum semper agere aliquid et moliri volunt, numquam nec irasci deum nec nocere.”—Cic. De Offic. iii. 28.
300 See the refutation of the philosophic notion in Lactantius, De Ira Dei.
301 “Revelation,” as Lessing observes in his essay on this subject, “has made Death the ‘king of terrors,’ the awful offspring of sin and the dread way to its punishment; though to the imagination of the ancient heathen world, Greek or Etrurian, he was a youthful genius—the twin brother of Sleep, or a lusty boy with a torch held downwards.”—Coleridge’s Biographia Litteraria, cap. xxii., note by Sara Coleridge.
302 “Vetat Pythagoras injussu imperatoris, id est Dei, de præsidio et statione vitæ decedere.”—Cic. De Senec. xx. If we believe the very untrustworthy evidence of Diog. Laërtius (Pythagoras) the philosopher himself committed suicide by starvation.
303 See his Laws, lib. ix. In his Phædon, however, Plato went further, and condemned all suicide. Libanius says (De Vita Sua) that the arguments of the Phædon prevented him from committing suicide after the death of Julian. On the other hand, Cicero mentions a certain Cleombrotus, who was so fascinated by the proof of the immortality of the soul in the Phædon that he forthwith cast himself into the sea. Cato, as is well known, chose this work to study, the night he committed suicide.
304 Arist. Ethic. v.
305 See a list of these in Lactantius’ Inst. Div. iii. 18. Many of these instances rest on very doubtful evidence.
306 Adam Smith’s Moral Sentiments, part vii. § 2.
307 “Proxima deinde tenent mœsti loca qui sibi lethum
Insontes peperere manu, lucemque perosi
Projecere animas. Quam vellent æthere in alto
Nunc et pauperiem et duros perferre labores.”
—Æneid, vi. 434-437.
308 Cicero has censured suicide in his De Senectute, in the Somn. Scipionis, and in the Tusculans. Concerning the death of Cato, he says, that the occasion was such as to constitute a divine call to leave life.—Tusc. i.
309 Apuleius, De Philos. Plat. lib. i.
310 Thus Ovid:—
“Rebus in adversis facile est contemnere vitam,
Fortiter ille facit qui miser esse potest.”
See, too, Martial, xi. 56.
311 Especially Ep. xxiv. Seneca desires that men should not commit suicide with panic or trepidation. He says that those condemned to death should await their execution, for “it is a folly to die through fear of death;” and he recommends men to support old age as long as their faculties remain unimpaired. On this last point, however, his language is somewhat contradictory. There is a good review of the opinions of the ancients in general, and of Seneca in particular, on this subject in Justus Lipsius’ Manuductio ad Stoicam Philosophiam, lib. iii. dissert. 22, 23, from which I have borrowed much.
312 In his Meditations, ix. 3, he speaks of the duty of patiently awaiting death. But in iii. 1, x. 8, 22-32, he clearly recognises the right of suicide in some cases, especially to prevent moral degeneracy. It must be remembered that the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius were private notes for his personal guidance, that all the Stoics admitted it to be wrong to commit suicide in cases where the act would be an injury to society, and that this consideration in itself would be sufficient to divert an emperor from the deed. Antoninus, the uncle, predecessor, and model of M. Aurelius, had considered it his duty several times to prevent Hadrian from committing suicide (Spartianus, Hadrianus). According to Capitolinus, Marcus Aurelius in his last illness purposely accelerated his death by abstinence. The duty of not hastily, or through cowardice, abandoning a path of duty, and the right of man to quit life when it appears intolerable, are combined very clearly by Epictetus, Arrian, i. 9; and the latter is asserted in the strongest manner, i. 24-25.
313 Porphyry, De Abst. Carnis, ii. 47; Plotinus, 1st Enn. ix. Porphyry says (Life of Plotinus) that Plotinus dissuaded him from suicide. There is a good epitome of the arguments of this school against suicide in Macrobius, In Som. Scip. 1.
314 Quoted by Seneca, Ep. xxvi. Cicero states the Epicurean doctrine to be, “Ut si tolerabiles sint dolores, feramus, sin minus æquo animo e vita, cum ea non placet, tanquam e theatro, exeamus” (De Finib. i. 15); and again, “De Diis immortalibus sine ullo metu vera sentit. Non dubitat, si ita melius sit, de vita migrare.”—Id. i. 19.
315 This is noticed by St. Jerome.
316 Corn. Nepos, Atticus. He killed himself when an old man, to shorten a hopeless disease.
317 Petronius, who was called the arbitrator of tastes (“elegantiæ arbiter”), was one of the most famous voluptuaries of the reign of Nero. Unlike most of his contemporaries, however, he was endowed with the most exquisite and refined taste; his graceful manners fascinated all about him, and made him in matters of pleasure the ruler of the Court. Appointed Proconsul of Bithynia, and afterwards Consul, he displayed the energies and the abilities of a statesman. A Court intrigue threw him out of favour; and believing that his death was resolved on, he determined to anticipate it by suicide. Calling his friends about him, he opened his veins, shut them, and opened them again; prolonged his lingering death till he had arranged his affairs; discoursed in his last moments, not about the immortality of the soul or the dogmas of philosophers, but about the gay songs and epigrams of the hour; and partaking of a cheerful banquet, died as recklessly as he had lived. (Tacit. Annal. xvi. 18-19.) It has been a matter of much dispute whether or not this Petronius was the author of the Satyricon, one of the most licentious and repulsive works in Latin literature.
318 Seneca, De Vita Beata, xix.
319 “Imperfectæ vero in homine naturæ præcipua solatia, ne Deum quidem posse omnia; namque nec sibi potest mortem consciscere si velit, quod homini dedit optimum in tantis vitæ pœnis.”—Hist. Nat. ii. 5.
320 Hist. Nat. ii. 63. We need not be surprised at this writer thus speaking of sudden death, “Mortes repentinæ (hoc est summa vitæ felicitas),” vii. 54.
321 Tusc. Quæst. lib. 1. Another remarkable example of an epidemic of suicide occurred among the young girls of Miletus. (Aul. Gell. xv. 10.)
322 Sir Cornewall Lewis, On the Credibility of Early Roman History, vol. ii. p. 430. See, too, on this class of suicides, Cromaziano, Istorica Critica del Suicidio (Venezia, 1788), pp. 81-82. The real name of the author of this book (which is, I think, the best history of suicide) was Buonafede. He was a Celestine monk. The book was first published at Lucca in 1761. It was translated into French in 1841.
323 Senec. De Provid. ii.; Ep. xxiv.
324 See some examples of this in Seneca, Ep. lxx.
325 See a long catalogue of suicides arising from this cause, in Cromaziano, Ist. del Suicidio, pp. 112-114.
326 Consol. ad Marc. c. xx.
327 De Ira, iii. 15.
328 Ep. lxx.
329 See Donne’s Biathanatos (London, 1700), pp. 56-57. Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, ch. xliv. Blackstone, in his chapter on suicide, quotes the sentence of the Roman lawyers on the subject: “Si quis impatientia doloris aut tædio vitæ aut morbo aut furore aut pudore mori maluit non animadvertatur in eum.” Ulpian expressly asserts that the wills of suicides were recognised by law, and numerous examples of the act, notoriously prepared and publicly and gradually accomplished, prove its legality in Rome. Suetonius, it is true, speaks of Claudius accusing a man for having tried to kill himself (Claud, xvi.), and Xiphilin says (lxix. 8) that Hadrian gave special permission to the philosopher Euphrates to commit suicide, “on account of old age and disease;” but in the first case it appears from the context that a reproach and not a legal action was meant, while Euphrates, I suppose, asked permission to show his loyalty to the emperor, and not as a matter of strict necessity. There were, however, some Greek laws condemning suicide, probably on civic grounds. Josephus mentions (De Bell. Jud. iii. 8) that in some nations “the right hand of the suicide was amputated, and that in Judea the suicide was only buried after sunset.” A very strange law, said to have been derived from Greece, is reported to have existed at Marseilles. Poison was kept by the senate of the city, and given to those who could prove that they had sufficient reason to justify their desire for death, and all other suicide was forbidden. The law was intended, it was said, to prevent hasty suicide, and to make deliberate suicide as rapid and painless as possible. (Valer. Maximus, ii. 6, § 7.) In the Reign of Terror in France, a law was made similar to that of Domitian. (Carlyle’s Hist. of the French Revolution, book v. c. ii.)
330 Compare with this a curious “order of the day,” issued by Napoleon in 1802, with the view of checking the prevalence of suicide among his soldiers. (Lisle, Du Suicide, pp. 462-463.)
331 See Suetonius, Otho. c. x.-xi., and the very fine description in Tacitus, Hist. lib. ii. c. 47-49. Martial compares the death of Otho to that of Cato:
“Sit Cato, dum vivit, sane vel Cæsare major;
Dum moritur, numquid major Othone fuit?”
—Ep. vi. 32.
332 Xiphilin, lxviii. 12.
333 Tacit. Hist. ii. 49. Suet. Otho, 12. Suetonius says that, in addition to these, many soldiers who were not present killed themselves on hearing the news.
334 Ibid. Annal. xiv. 9.
335 Plin. Hist. Nat. vii. 54. The opposite faction attributed this suicide to the maddening effects of the perfumes burnt on the pile.
336 Tacit. Annal. vi. 26.
337 Plin. Ep. i. 12.
338 This history is satirically and unfeelingly told by Lucian. See, too, Ammianus Marcellinus, xxix. 1.
339 Sophocles.
340 Arrian, i. 24.
341 Seneca, Ep. lviii.
342 Stobæus. One of the most deliberate suicides recorded was that of a Greek woman of ninety years old.—Val. Maxim. ii. 6, § 8.
343 Plin. Ep. iii. 7. He starved himself to death.
344 Ep. i. 22. Some of Pliny’s expressions are remarkable:—“Id ego arduum in primis et præcipua laude dignum puto. Nam impetu quodam et instinctu procurrere ad mortem, commune cum multis: deliberare vero et causas ejus expendere, utque suaserit ratio, vitæ mortisque consilium suscipere vel ponere, ingentis est animi.” In this case the doctors pronounced that recovery was possible, and the suicide was in consequence averted.
345 Lib. vi. Ep. xxiv.
346 Ep. lxxvii. On the former career of Marcellinus, see Ep. xxix.
347 See the very beautiful lines of Statius:—
“Urbe fuit media nulli concessa potentum
Ara Deum, mitis posuit Clementia sedem:
Et miseri fecere sacram, sine supplice numquam
Illa novo; nulla damnavit vota repulsa.
Auditi quicunque rogant, noctesque diesque
Ire datum, et solis numen placare querelis.
Parca superstitio; non thurea flamma, nec altus
Accipitur sanguis, lachrymis altaria sudant...
Nulla autem effigies, nulli commissa metallo
Forma Deæ, mentes habitare et pectora gaudet.
Semper habet trepidos, semper locus horret egenis
Cœtibus, ignotæ tantum felicibus aræ.”—Thebaid, xii. 481-496.
This altar was very old, and was said to have been founded by the descendants of Hercules. Diodorus of Sicily, however, makes a Syracusan say that it was brought from Syracuse (lib. xiii. 22). Marcus Aurelius erected a temple to “Beneficentia” on the Capitol. (Xiphilin, lib. lxxi. 34.)
348 Herodotus, vi. 21.
349 See Arrian’s Epictetus, i. 9. The very existence of the word φιλανθρωπία shows that the idea was not altogether unknown.
350 Diog. Laërt. Pyrrho. There was a tradition that Pythagoras had himself penetrated to India, and learnt philosophy from the gymnosophists. (Apuleius, Florid. lib. ii. c. 15.)
351 This aspect of the career of Alexander was noticed in a remarkable passage of a treatise ascribed to Plutarch (De Fort. Alex.). “Conceiving he was sent by God to be an umpire between all, and to unite all together, he reduced by arms those whom he could not conquer by persuasion, and formed of a hundred diverse nations one single universal body, mingling, as it were, in one cup of friendship the customs, marriages, and laws of all. He desired that all should regard the whole world as their common country,... that every good man should be esteemed a Hellene, every evil man a barbarian.” See on this subject the third lecture of Mr. Merivale (whose translation of Plutarch I have borrowed) On the Conversion of the Roman Empire.
352 They were both born about b.c. 250. See Sir C. Lewis, Credibility of Early Roman History, vol. i. p. 82.
353 Aulus Gellius mentions the indignation of Marcus Cato against a consul named Albinus, who had written in Greek a Roman history, and prefaced it by an apology for his faults of style, on the ground that he was writing in a foreign language. (Noct. Att. xi. 8.)
354 See a vivid picture of the Greek influence upon Rome, in Mommsen’s Hist. of Rome (Eng. trans.), vol. iii. pp. 423-426.
355 Plin. Hist. Nat. vii. 31.
356 See Friedlænder, Mœurs romaines du règne d’Auguste à la fin des Antonins (French trans., 1865), tome i. pp. 6-7.
357 See the curious catalogue of Greek love terms in vogue (Lucretius, lib. iv. line 1160, &c.). Juvenal, more than a hundred years later, was extremely angry with the Roman ladies for making love in Greek (Sat. vi. lines 190-195). Friedlænder remarks that there is no special term in Latin for to ask in marriage (tome i. p. 354).
358 Aul. Gell. Noct. xv. 4; Vell. Paterculus, ii. 65. The people were much scandalised at this elevation, and made epigrams about it. There is a curious catalogue of men who at different times rose in Rome from low positions to power and dignity, in Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, tome ii. pp. 254-255.
359 Dion Cassius, xlviii. 32. Plin. Hist. Nat. v. 5; vii. 44.
360 The history of the influence of freedmen is minutely traced by Friedlænder, Mœurs romaines du règne d’Auguste à la fin des Antonins, tome i. pp. 58-93. Statius and Martial sang their praises.
361 See Tacit. Ann. vi. 23-25.
362 On the Roman journeys, see the almost exhaustive dissertation of Friedlænder, tome ii.
363 Joseph. (Antiq. xvii. 11, § 1) says above 8,000 Jews resident in Rome took part in a petition to Cæsar. If these were all adult males, the total number of Jewish residents must have been extremely large.
364 See the famous fragment of Seneca cited by St. Augustin (De Civ. Dei, vi. 11): “Usque eo sceleratissimæ gentis consuetudo convaluit, ut per omnes jam terras recepta sit: victi victoribus leges dederunt.” There are numerous scattered allusions to the Jews in Horace, Juvenal, and Martial.
365 The Carthaginian influence was specially conspicuous in early Christian history. Tertullian and Cyprian (both Africans) are justly regarded as the founders of Latin theology. (See Milman’s Latin Christianity (ed. 1867), vol. i. pp. 35-36.)
366 Milo had emancipated some slaves to prevent them from being tortured as witnesses. (Cic. Pro Milo.) This was made illegal. The other reasons for enfranchisement are given by Dion. Halicarn. Antiq. lib. iv.
367 This subject is fully treated by Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclavage dans l’Antiquité.
368 Senec. De Clemen. i. 24.
369 See, on the prominence and the insolence of the freedmen, Tacit. Annal. iii. 26-27.
370 Montesquieu, Décadence des Romains, ch. xiii.
371 See the very curious speech attributed to Camillus (Livy, v. 52).
372 “Caritas generis humani.”—De Finib. So, too, he speaks (De Leg. i. 23) of every good man as “civis totius mundi.”
373 He speaks of Rome as “civitas ex nationum conventu constituta.”
374 De Legib. i. 7.
375 De Offic.
376 Ibid. iii. 6.
377 De Offic. iii. 6.
378 De Legib. i. 15.
379 “Tunc genus humanum positis sibi consulat armis,
Inque vicem gens omnis amet.”
—Pharsalia, vi.
380 Ep. xcv.
381 Ep. xxxi.
382 De Vita Beata, xx.
383 Arrian, ii. 10.
384 vi. 44.
385 “Hæc duri immota Catonis
Secta fuit, servare modum, finemque tenere,
Naturamque sequi, patriæque impendere vitam,
Nec sibi sed toti genitum se credere mundo.”
Lucan, Phars. ii. 380-383.
386 There is a passage on this subject in one of the letters of Pliny, which I think extremely remarkable, and to which I can recall no pagan parallel:—“Nuper me cujusdam amici languor admonuit, optimos esse nos dum infirmi sumus. Quem enim infirmum aut avaritia aut libido solicitat? Non amoribus servit, non appetit honores... tunc deos, tunc hominem esse se meminit.”—Plin. Ep. vii. 26.
387 Ep. viii. 16. He says: “Hominis est enim affici dolore, sentire, resistere tamen, et solatia admittere, non solatiis non egere.”
388 This characteristic of Stoicism is well noticed in Grant’s Aristotle, vol. i. p. 254. The first volume of this work contains an extremely good review of the principles of the Stoics.
389 Cie. De Finib. lib. iv.
390 Arrian, Epict. ii. 14.
391 Ibid. i. 9.
392 Ibid. i. 14.
393 Ibid. i. 16.
394 Arrian, ii. 8.
395 Plutarch, De Profect. in Virt. This precept was enforced by Bishop Sanderson in one of his sermons. (Southey’s Commonplace Book, vol. i. p. 92.)
396 Diog. Laërt. Pythagoras.
397 Thus Cicero makes Cato say: “Pythagoreorumque more, exercendæ memoriæ gratia, quid quoque die dixerim, audiverim, egerim, commemoro vesperi.”—De Senect. xi.
398 Ibid.
399 Sermon, i. 4.
400 He even gave up, for a time, eating meat, in obedience to the Pythagorean principles. (Ep. cviii.) Seneca had two masters of this school, Sextius and Sotion. He was at this time not more than seventeen years old. (See Aubertin, Étude critique sur les Rapports supposés entre Sénèque et St. Paul, p. 156.)
401 See his very beautiful description of the self-examination of Sextius and of himself. (De Ira, iii. 36.)
402 Arrian, ii. 18. Compare the Manual of Epictetus, xxxiv.
403 “Quod de Romulo ægre creditum est, omnes pari consensu præsumserunt, Marcum cœlo receptum esse.”—Aur. Vict. Epit. xvi. “Deusque etiam nunc habetur.”—Capitolinus.
404 The first book of his Meditations was written on the borders of the Granua, in Hungary.
405 i. 14.
406 See his touching letter to Fronto, who was about to engage in a debate with Herod Atticus.
407 i. 6-15. The eulogy he passed on his Stoic master Apollonius is worthy of notice. Apollonius furnished him with an example of the combination of extreme firmness and gentleness.
408 E.g. “Beware of Cæsarising.” (vi. 30.) “Be neither a tragedian nor a courtesan.” (v. 28.) “Be just and temperate and a follower of the gods; but be so with simplicity, for the pride of modesty is the worst of all.” (xii. 27.)
409 iii. 4.
410 i. 17.
411 v. 1.
412 ix. 29.
413 viii. 59.
414 xi. 18.
415 ix. 11.
416 viii. 15.
417 vii. 70.
418 vii. 63.
419 vii. 22.
420 Mr. Maurice, in this respect, compares and contrasts him very happily with Plutarch. “Like Plutarch, the Greek and Roman characters were in Marcus Aurelius remarkably blended; but, unlike Plutarch, the foundation of his mind was Roman. He was a student that he might more effectually carry on the business of an emperor.”—Philosophy of the First Six Centuries, p. 32.
421 vi. 47.
422 Capitolinus, Aurelius Victor.
423 M. Suckau, in his admirable Étude sur Marc-Aurèle, and M. Renan, in a very acute and learned Examen de quelques faits relatifs à l’impératrice Faustine (read before the Institut, August 14, 1867), have shown the extreme uncertainty of the stories about the debaucheries of Faustina, which the biographers of Marcus Aurelius have collected. It will be observed that the emperor himself has left an emphatic testimony to her virtue, and to the happiness he derived from her (i. 17); that the earliest extant biographer of Marcus Aurelius was a generation later; and that the infamous character of Commodus naturally predisposed men to imagine that he was not the son of so perfect an emperor.
424 “Quid me fletis, et non magis de pestilentia et communi morte cogitatis?” Capitolinus, M. Aurelius.
425 Ibid.
426 Many examples of this are given by Coulanges, La Cité antique, pp. 177-178.
427 All this is related by Suetonius, August.
428 Tacit. Annal. iv. 36.
429 See, e.g., the sentiments of the people about Julius Cæsar, Sueton. J. C. lxxxviii.
430 Sueton. Vesp. xxiii.
431 “Qualis artifex pereo” were his dying words.
432 See Sueton. Calig. 1.
433 Sueton. Calig. xxii. A statue of Jupiter is said to have burst out laughing just before the death of this emperor.
434 Seneca, De Ira, i. 46; Sueton. Calig. xxii.
435 Lampridius, Heliogab.
436 Senec. De Clemen. i. 18.
437 Tacit. Annal. iii. 36.
438 Senec. De Benefic. iii. 26.
439 Tacit. Annal. i. 73. Tiberius refused to allow this case to be proceeded with. See, too, Philost. Apollonius of Tyana, i. 15.
440 Suet. Tiber. lviii.
441 “Mulier quædam, quod semel exuerat ante statuam Domitiani, damnata et interfecta est.”—Xiphilin, lxvii. 12.
442 “Eos demum, qui nihil præterquam de libertate cogitent, dignos esse, qui Romani fiant.”—Livy, viii. 21.
443 Valerius Maximus, iv. 3, § 14.
444 See the picture of this scene in Tacitus, Hist. iii. 83.
445 Dion. Halicarnass.
446 “Divina Natura dedit agros; ars humana ædificavit urbes.”
447 See a collection of passages from these writers in Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclavage, tome ii. pp. 378-379. Pliny, in the first century, noticed (Hist. Nat. xviii. 7) that the latifundia, or system of large properties, was ruining both Italy and the provinces, and that six landlords whom Nero killed were the possessors of half Roman Africa.
448 Tacit. Annal. xii. 43. The same complaint had been made still earlier by Tiberius, in a letter to the Senate. (Annal. iii. 54.)
449 Augustus, for a time, contemplated abolishing the distributions, but soon gave up the idea. (Suet. Aug. xlii.) He noticed that it had the effect of causing the fields to be neglected.
450 M. Wallon has carefully traced this history. (Hist. de l’Esclav. tome iii. pp. 294-297.)
451 Livy, iv. 59-60. Florus, i. 12.
452 Livy, xxiv. 49.
453 Sallust, Bell. Jugurth. 84-86.
454 Livy, xxxix. 6.
455 “Primus Cæsarum fidem militis etiam præmio pigneratus.”—Suet. Claud. x.
456 See Tacitus, Annal. xiii. 35; Hist. ii. 69.
457 M. Sismondi thinks that the influence of Christianity in subduing the spirit of revolt, if not in the army, at least in the people, was very great. He says: “Il est remarquable qu’en cinq ans, sept prétendans au trône, tous bien supérieurs à Honorius en courage, en talens et en vertus, furent successivement envoyés captifs à Ravenne ou punis de mort, que le peuple applaudit toujours à ces jugemens et ne se sépara point de l’autorité légitime, tant la doctrine du droit divin des rois que les évêques avoient commencé à prêcher sous Théodose avoit fait de progrès, et tant le monde romain sembloit determiné à périr avec un monarque imbécile plutôt que tenté de se donner un sauveur.”—Hist. de la Chute de l’Empire romain, tome i. p. 221.
458 See Gibbon, ch. v.; Merivale’s Hist. of Rome, ch. lxvii. It was thought that troops thus selected would be less likely to revolt. Constantine abolished the Prætorians.
459 The gladiatorial shows are treated incidentally by most Roman historians, but the three works from which I have derived most assistance in this part of my subject are the Saturnalia of Justus Lipsius, Magnin, Origines du Théâtre (an extremely learned and interesting book, which was unhappily never completed), and Friedlænder’s Roman Manners from Augustus to the Antonines (the second volume of the French translation). M. Wallon has also compressed into a few pages (Hist. de l’Esclavage, tome ii. pp. 129-139) much information on the subject.
460 Hence the old name of bustuarii (from bustum, a funeral pile) given to gladiators (Nieupoort, De Ritibus Romanorum, p. 514). According to Pliny (Hist. Nat. xxx. 3), “regular human sacrifices were only abolished in Rome by a decree of the senate, b.c. 97,” and there are some instances of them at a still later period. Much information about them is collected by Sir C. Lewis, Credibility of Roman History, vol. ii. p. 430; Merivale, Conversion of the Roman Empire, pp. 230-233; Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, vol. i. pp. 229-231. Porphyry, in his De Abstinentia Carnis, devoted considerable research to this matter. Games were habitually celebrated by wealthy private individuals, during the early part of the empire, at the funerals of their relatives, but their mortuary character gradually ceased, and after Marcus Aurelius they had become mere public spectacles, and were rarely celebrated at Rome by private men. (See Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclav. tome ii. pp. 135-136.) The games had then really passed into their purely secular stage, though they were still nominally dedicated to Mars and Diana, and though an altar of Jupiter Latiaris stood in the centre of the arena. (Nieupoort, p. 365.)
461 Cicero, Tusc. lib. ii.
462 Capitolinus, Maximus et Balbinus. Capitolinus says this is the most probable origin of the custom, though others regarded it as a sacrifice to appease Nemesis by an offering of blood.
463 Much curious information on this subject may be found in Friedlænder, Mœurs romaines, liv. vi. ch. i. Very few Roman emperors ventured to disregard or to repress these outcries, and they led to the fall of several of the most powerful ministers of the empire. On the whole these games represent the strangest and most ghastly form political liberty has ever assumed. On the other hand, the people readily bartered all genuine freedom for abundant games.
464 Valer. Maximus, ii. 4, § 7.
465 On the gladiators at banquets, see J. Lipsius, Saturnalia, lib. i. c. vi., Magnin; Origines du Théâtre, pp. 380-385. This was originally an Etruscan custom, and it was also very common at Capua. As Silius Italicus says:—
“Exhilarare viris convivia cæde Mos olim, et miscere epulis spectacula dira.”
Verus, the colleague of Marcus Aurelius, was especially addicted to this kind of entertainment. (Capitolinus, Verus.) See, too, Athenæus iv. 40, 41.
466 Senec. De Brevit. Vit. c. xiii.
467 Sueton. J. Cæsar, xxvi. Pliny (Ep. vi. 34) commends a friend for having given a show in memory of his departed wife.
468 Pliny, Hist. Nat. xxxiii. 16.
469 Sueton. Cæsar, x.; Dion Cassius, xliii. 24.
470 Sueton. Aug. xxix. The history of the amphitheatres is given very minutely by Friedlænder, who, like nearly all other antiquaries, believes this to have been the first of stone. Pliny mentions the existence, at an earlier period, of two connected wooden theatres, which swung round on hinges and formed an amphitheatre. (Hist. Nat. xxxvi. 24.)
471 Dion Cassius, liv. 2. It appears, however, from an inscription, that 10,000 gladiators fought in the reign and by the command of Augustus. Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclavage, tome ii. p. 133.
472 Sueton. Tiber. xxxiv. Nero made another slight restriction (Tacit. Annal. xiii. 31), which appears to have been little observed.
473 Martial notices (Ep. iii. 59) and ridicules a spectacle given by a shoemaker at Bologna, and by a fuller at Modena.
474 Epictetus, Enchir. xxxiii. § 2.
475 Arrian, iii. 15.
476 See these points minutely proved in Friedlænder.
477 Suet. Aug. xliv. This was noticed before by Cicero. The Christian poet Prudentius dwelt on this aspect of the games in some forcible lines:—
“Virgo modesta jubet converso pollice rumpi
Ne lateat pars ulla animæ vitalibus imis
Altius impresso dum palpitat ense secutor.”
478 Sueton. Tiberius, xl. Tacitus, who gives a graphic description of the disaster (Annal. iv. 62-63), says 50,000 persons were killed or wounded.
479 Tacit. Annal. xiii. 49.
480 Joseph. Bell. Jud. vi. 9.
481 See the very curious picture which Livy has given (xli. 20) of the growth of the fascination.
482 Joseph. Antiq. Jud. xix. 7.
483 Lucian, Demonax.
484 Philost. Apoll. iv. 22.
485 Friedlænder, tome ii. pp. 95-96. There are, however, several extant Greek inscriptions relating to gladiators, and proving the existence of the shows in Greece. Pompeii, which was a Greek colony, had a vast amphitheatre, which we may still admire; and, under Nero, games were prohibited at Pompeii for ten years, in consequence of a riot that broke out during a gladiatorial show. (Tacit. Annal. xiv. 17.) After the defeat of Perseus, Paulus Emilius celebrated a show in Macedonia. (Livy, xli. 20.)
486 These are fully discussed by Magnin and Friedlænder. There is a very beautiful description of a ballet, representing the “Judgment of Paris,” in Apuleius, Metamorph. x.
487 Pacuvius and Accius were the founders of Roman tragedy. The abridger, Velleius Paterculus, who is the only Roman historian who pays any attention to literary history, boasts that the latter might rank honourably with the best Greek tragedians. He adds, “ut in illis [the Greeks] limæ, in hoc pœne plus videatur fuisse sanguinis.”—Hist. Rom. ii. 9.
488 Thus, e.g., Hobbes: “Alienæ calamitatis contemptus nominatur crudelitas, proceditque a propriæ securitatis opinione. Nam ut aliquis sibi placeat in malis alienis sine alio fine, videtur mihi impossibile.”—Leviathan, pars i. c. vi.
489 Sueton. Claudius, xxxiv.
490 “Et verso pollice vulgi
Quemlibet occidunt populariter.”—Juvenal, Sat. iii. 36-37.
491 Besides the many incidental notices scattered through the Roman historians, and through the writings of Seneca, Plutarch, Juvenal, and Pliny, we have a curious little book, De Spectaculis, by Martial—a book which is not more horrible from the atrocities it recounts than from the perfect absence of all feeling of repulsion or compassion it everywhere displays.
492 These are but a few of the many examples given by Magnin, who has collected a vast array of authorities on the subject. (Origines du Théâtre, pp. 445-453.) M. Mongez has devoted an interesting memoir to “Les animaux promenés ou tués dans le cirque.” (Mém. de l’Acad. des Inscrip. et Belles-lettres, tome x.) See, too, Friedlænder. Pliny rarely gives an account of any wild animal without accompanying it by statistics about its appearances in the arena. The first instance of a wild beast hunt in the amphitheatre is said to be that recorded by Livy (xxxix. 22), which took place about 80 b.c.
493 Capitolinus, Gordiani.
494 Vopiscus, Aurelian.
495 Xiphilin, lxviii. 15.
496 Tacit. Annal. xv. 44.
497 Xiphilin, lxvii. 8; Statius, Sylv. i. 6.
498 During the Republic, a rich man ordered in his will that some women he had purchased for the purpose should fight in the funeral games to his memory, but the people annulled the clause. (Athenæeus, iv. 39.) Under Nero and Domitian, female gladiators seem to have been not uncommon. See Statius, Sylv. i. 6; Sueton. Domitian, iv.; Xiphilin, lxvii. 8. Juvenal describes the enthusiasm with which Roman ladies practised with the gladiatorial weapons (Sat. vi. 248, &c.), and Martial (De Spectac. vi.) mentions the combats of women with wild beasts. One, he says, killed a lion. A combat of female gladiators, under Severus, created some tumult, and it was decreed that they should no longer be permitted. (Xiphilin, lxxv. 16.) See Magnin, pp. 434-435.
499 Martial, De Spectac. vii.
500 Ibid. Ep. viii. 30.
501 Tertullian, Ad Nation. i. 10. One of the most ghastly features of the games was the comic aspect they sometimes assumed. This was the case in the combats of dwarfs. There were also combats by blind-folded men. Petronius (Satyricon, c. xlv.) has given us a horrible description of the maimed and feeble men who were sometimes compelled to fight. People afflicted with epilepsy were accustomed to drink the blood of the wounded gladiators, which they believed to be a sovereign remedy. (Pliny, Hist. Nat. xxviii. 2; Tertul. Apol. ix.)
502 “Nec unquam sine humano cruore cœnabat”—Lactan. De Mort. Persec. Much the same thing is told of the Christian emperor Justinian II., who lived at the end of the seventh century. (Sismondi, Hist. de la Chute de l’Empire Romain, tome ii. p. 85.)
503 Winckelmann says the statue called “The Dying Gladiator” does not represent a gladiator. At a later period, however, statues of gladiators were not uncommon, and Pliny notices (Hist. Nat. xxxv. 33) paintings of them. A fine specimen of mosaic portraits of gladiators is now in the Lateran Museum.
504 Plutarch’s Life of Cæsar.
505 Dion Cassius, li. 7.
506 Faustina, the wife of Marcus Aurelius, was especially accused of this weakness. (Capitolinus, Marcus Aurelius.)
507 Seneca, De Provident. iv.
508 Arrian’s Epictetus, i. 29.
509 Seneca, De Provident. iii.
510 Aulus Gellius, xii. 5.
511 Cicero, Tusc. lib. ii.
512 Some Equites fought under Julius Cæsar, and a senator named Fulvius Setinus wished to fight, but Cæsar prevented him. (Suet. Cæsar, xxxix.; Dion Cassius, xliii. 23.) Nero, according to Suetonius, compelled men of the highest rank to fight. Laws prohibiting patricians from fighting were several times made and violated. (Friedlænder, pp. 39-41.) Commodus is said to have been himself passionately fond of fighting as a gladiator. Much, however, of what Lampridius relates on this point is perfectly incredible. On the other hand, the profession of the gladiator was constantly spoken of as infamous; but this oscillation between extreme admiration and contempt will surprise no one who has noticed the tone continually adopted about prize-fighters in England, and about the members of some other professions on the Continent. Juvenal dwells (Sat. viii. 197-210) with great indignation on an instance of a patrician fighting.
513 “Quis mediocris gladiator ingemuit, quis vultum mutavit unquam?”—Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. ii.
514 E.g. Clem. Alex. Strom. iii. There is a well-known passage of this kind in Horace, Ars Poet. 412-415. The comparison of the good man to an athlete or gladiator, which St. Paul employed, occurs also in Seneca and Epictetus, from which some have inferred that they must have known the writings of the Apostle. M. Denis, however, has shown (Idées morales dans l’Antiquité, tome ii. p. 240) that the same comparison had been used, before the rise of Christianity, by Plato, Æschines, and Cicero.
515 Confess. vi. 8.
516 “[Servi] etsi per fortunam in omnia obnoxii, tamen quasi secundum hominum genus sunt.”—Florus, Hist. iii. 20.
517 Macrinus, however, punished fugitive slaves by compelling them to fight as gladiators. (Capitolinus, Macrinus.)
518 Tacit. Annal. xii. 56. According to Friedlænder, however, there were two classes of criminals. One class were condemned only to fight, and pardoned if they conquered; the others were condemned to fight till death, and this was considered an aggravation of capital punishment.
519 “Ad conciliandum plebis favorem effusa largitio, quum spectaculis indulget, supplicia quondam hostium artem facit.”—Florus, iii. 12.
520 Tusc. Quæst. ii. 17.
521 See his magnificent letter on the subject. (Ep. vii.)
522 In his two treatises De Esu Carnium.
523 Pliny. Ep. iv. 22.
524 Xiphilin, lxxi. 29. Capitolinus, M. Aurelius. The emperor also once carried off the gladiators to a war with his army, much to the indignation of the people. (Capit.) He has himself noticed the extreme weariness he felt at the public amusements he was obliged to attend. (vii. 3.)
525 Sueton. Titus, viii.
526 “Visum est spectaculum inde non enerve nec fluxum, nec quod animos virorum molliret et frangeret, sed quod ad pulchra vulnera contemptumque mortis accenderet.”—Pliny, Paneg. xxxiii.
527 “Præterea tanto consensu rogabaris, ut negare non constans sed durum videretur.”—Plin. Epist. vi. 34.
528 Symmach. Epist. ii. 46.
529 Sueton. Domitian, iii. It is very curious that the same emperor, about the same time (the beginning of his reign), had such a horror of bloodshed that he resolved to prohibit the sacrifice of oxen. (Suet. Dom. ix.)
530 “Pendant qu’il restait au logis, il n’était incommode à personne; il y passait la meilleure partie de son temps tranquillement dans sa chambre.... Il se divertissait aussi quelquefois à fumer une pipe de tabac; ou bien lorsqu’il voulait se relâcher l’esprit un peu plus longtemps, il cherchait des araignées qu’il faisait battre ensemble, ou des mouches qu’il jetait dans la toile d’araignée, et regardait ensuite cette bataille avec tant de plaisir qu’il éclatait quelquefois de rire.”—Colerus, Vie de Spinoza.
531 This is noticed by George Duval in a curious passage of his Souvenirs de la Terreur, quoted by Lord Lytton in a note to his Zanoni.
532 Essay on Goodness.
533 This contrast has been noticed by Archbishop Whately in a lecture on Egypt. See, too, Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, tome ii. p. 374.
534 Tacit. Annal. xiv. 45.
535 Senec. De Clemen. i. 14.
536 Val. Max. ii. 9. This writer speaks of “the eyes of a mistress delighting in human blood” with as much horror as if the gladiatorial games were unknown. Livy gives a rather different version of this story.
537 Tacit. Annal. i. 76.
538 Sueton. Calig. xi.
539 Spartian. Caracalla. Tertullian mentions that his nurse was a Christian.
540 Capitolinus, Marcus Aurelius. Capitolinus, who wrote under Diocletian, says that in his time the custom of spreading a net under the rope-dancer still continued. I do not know when it ceased at Rome, but St. Chrysostom mentions that in his time it had been abolished in the East.—Jortin’s Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, ii. 71 (ed. 1846).
541 Tacit. Ann. iii. 55.
542 Champagny, Les Antonins, tome ii. pp. 179-200.
543 πολιτεύεσθαι.—Diog. Laërt. Zeno.
544 Thus Tigellinus spoke of “Stoicorum arrogantia sectaque quæ turbidos et negotiorum appetentes faciat.”—Tacit. Ann. xiv. 57. The accusation does not appear to have been quite untrue, for Vespasian, who was a very moderate emperor, thought it necessary to banish nearly all the philosophers from Rome on account of their factiousness. Sometimes the Stoics showed their independence by a rather gratuitous insolence. Dion Cassius relates that, when Nero was thinking of writing a poem in 400 books, he asked the advice of the Stoic Cornutus, who said, that no one would read so long a work. “But,” answered Nero, “your favourite Chrysippus wrote still more numerous books.” “True,” rejoined Cornutus, “but then they were of use to humanity.” On the other hand, Seneca is justly accused of condescending too much to the vices of Nero in his efforts to mitigate their effects.
545 The influence of Stoicism on Roman law has been often examined. See, especially, Degerando, Hist. de la Philosophie (2nd ed.), tome iii. pp. 202-204; Laferrière, De l’Influence du Stoïcisme sur les Jurisconsultes romains; Denis, Théories et Idées morales dans l’Antiquité, tome ii. pp. 187-217; Troplong, Influence du Christianisme sur le Droit civil des Romains; Merivale, Conversion of the Roman Empire, lec. iv.; and the great work of Gravina, De Ortu et Progressu Juris civilis.
546 Cic. De Legib. ii. 4, 23.
547 There were two rival schools, that of Labeo and that of Capito. The first was remarkable for its strict adherence to the letter of the law—the second for the latitude of interpretation it admitted.
548 Dig. lib. i. tit. 17-32.
549 Ibid. i. tit. 1-3.
550 Ibid. i. tit. 1-4.
551 Dig. lib. i. tit. 4-5.
552 Laferrière, p. 32. Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclavage dans l’Antiquité, tome iii. pp. 71-80. M. Wallon gives many curious instances of legal decisions on this point.
553 To prove that this is the correct conception of law was the main object of Cicero’s treatise De Legibus. Ulpian defined jurisprudence as “divinarum atque humanarum rerum notitia, justi atque injusti scientia.”—Dig. lib. i. tit. 1-10. So Paul “Id quod semper æquum ad bonum est jus dicitur ut est jus naturale.”—Dig. lib. i. tit. 1-11. And Gaius, “Quod vero naturalis ratio inter omnes homines constituit... vocatur jus gentium.”—Dig. lib. i. tit. 1-9. The Stoics had defined true wisdom as “rerum divinarum atque humanarum scientia.”—Cic. De Offic. i. 43.
554 Cicero compares the phraseology of the Stoics with that of the Peripatetics, maintaining that the precision of the former is well adapted to legal discussions, and the redundancy of the latter to oratory. “Omnes fere Stoici prudentissimi in disserendo sint et id arte faciant, sintque architecti pene verborum; iidem traducti a disputando ad dicendum, inopes reperiantur: unum excipio Catonem.... Peripateticorum institutis commodius fingeretur oratio... nam ut Stoicorum astrictior est oratio, aliquantoque contractior quam aures populi requirunt: sic illorum liberior et latior quam patitur consuetudo judiciorum et fori.”—De Claris Oratoribus. A very judicious historian of philosophy observes: “En général à Rome le petit nombre d’hommes livrés à la méditation et à l’enthousiasme préférèrent Pythagore et Platon; les hommes du monde et ceux qui cultivaient les sciences naturelles s’attachèrent à Épicure; les orateurs et les hommes d’État à la nouvelle Académie; les juris-consultes au Portique.”—Degerando, Hist. de la Philos. tome iii. p. 196.
555 See a very remarkable passage in Aulus Gellius, Noct. ii. 15.
556 “Fere enim nulli alii sunt homines qui talem in filios suos habeant potestatem qualem nos habemus.”—Gaius.
557 A full statement of these laws is given by Dion. Halicarn. ii. 4. It was provided that if a father sold his son and if the son was afterwards enfranchised by the purchaser, he became again the slave of his father, who might sell him a second, and, if manumission again ensued, a third time. It was only on the third sale that he passed for ever out of the parental control. A more merciful law, attributed to Numa, provided that when the son married (if that marriage was with the consent of the father), the father lost the power of selling him. In no other way, however, was his authority even then abridged.
558 Velleius Paterculus, ii. 67. A great increase of parricide was noticed during the Empire (Senec. De Clem. i. 23). At first, it is said, there was no law against parricide, for the crime was believed to be too atrocious to be possible.
559 Numerous instances of these executions are collected by Livy, Val. Maximus, &c.; their history is fully given by Cornelius van Bynkershoek, “De Jure occidendi, vendendi, et exponendi liberos apud veteres Romanos,” in his works (Cologne, 1761).
560 This proceeding of Hadrian, which is related by the lawyer Marcian, is doubly remarkable, because the father had surprised his son in adultery with his stepmother. Now a Roman had originally not only absolute authority over the life of his son, but also the right of killing any one whom he found committing adultery with his wife. Yet Marcian praises the severity of Hadrian, “Nam patria potestas in pietate debet, non atrocitate, consistere.”—Digest. lib. xlviii. tit. 9, § 5.
561 Valer. Max. vii. 7.
562 See, on all this subject, Gibbon, Decline and Fall, ch. xliv.; Troplong, Influence du Christianisme sur le Droit, ch. ix.; Denis, Hist. des Idées morales, tome ii. pp. 107-120; Laferrière, Influence du Stoïcisme sur les Jurisconsultes, pp. 37-44.
563 Ælian, Hist. Var. vi. 7.
564 Livy, ii. 36; Cicero, De Divin. ii. 26.
565 Cicero, De Legibus, ii. 8-12. Cato, however, maintained that slaves might on those days be employed on work which did not require oxen.—Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclavage, tome ii. p. 215.
566 See the Saturnalia of Macrobius.
567 See his Life by Plutarch, and his book on agriculture.
568 The number of the Roman slaves has been a matter of much controversy. M. Dureau de la Malle (Econ. politique des Romains) has restricted it more than any other writer. Gibbon (Decline and Fall, chap. ii.) has collected many statistics on the subject, but the fullest examination is in M. Wallon’s admirable Hist. de l’Esclavage. On the contrast between the character of the slaves of the Republic and those of the Empire, see Tac. Ann. xiv. 44.
569 Tacit. Annal. xiii. 32; xiv. 42-45. Wallon, Hist. de l’Esclav. ii. 293. I have already noticed the indignant rising of the people caused by the proposal to execute the 400 slaves of the murdered Pedanius. Their interposition was, however (as Tacitus informs us), unavailing, and the slaves, guarded against rescue by a strong band of soldiers, were executed. It was proposed to banish the freedmen who were in the house, but Nero interposed and prevented it. Pliny notices (Ep. viii. 14) the banishment of the freedmen of a murdered man.
570 See all this fully illustrated in Wallon. The plays of Plautus and the Roman writers on agriculture contain numerous allusions to the condition of slaves.
571 Wallon, tome ii. pp. 209-210, 357. There were no laws till the time of the Christian emperors against separating the families of slaves, but it was a maxim of the jurisconsults that in forced sales they should not be separated. (Wallon, tome iii. pp. 55-56.)
572 Ibid. tome ii. pp. 211-213.
573 Plin. Epist. viii. 16. It was customary to allow the public or State slaves to dispose of half their goods by will. (Wallon, tome iii. p. 59.)
574 Wallon, tome ii. p. 419. This appears from an allusion of Cicero, Philip. viii. 11.
575 Senec. De Clem. i. 18.
576 Ibid. Ep. xlvii.
577 Pliny, Ep. viii. 16.
578 Spartianus, Hadrianus.
579 Compare Wallon, tome ii. p. 186; tome iii. pp. 65-66. Slaves were only to be called as witnesses in cases of incest, adultery, murder, and high treason, and where it was impossible to establish the crime without their evidence. Hadrian considered that the reality of the crime must have already acquired a strong probability, and the jurisconsult Paul laid down that at least two free witnesses should be heard before slaves were submitted to torture, and that the offer of an accused person to have his slaves tortured that they might attest his innocence should not be accepted.
580 Numerous and very noble instances of slave fidelity are given by Seneca, De Benefic. iii. 19-27; Val. Max. vi. 8; and in Appian’s History of the Civil Wars. See, too, Tacit. Hist. i. 3.
581 Aristotle had, it is true, declared slavery to be part of the law of nature—an opinion which, he said, was rejected by some of his contemporaries; but he advocated humanity to slaves quite as emphatically as the other philosophers (Economics, i. 5). Epicurus was conspicuous even among Greek philosophers for his kindness to slaves, and he associated some of his own with his philosophical labours. (Diog. Laërt. Epicurus.)
582 De Benef. iii. 18-28; De Vita Beata, xxiv.; De Clem. i. 18, and especially Ep. xlvii. Epictetus, as might be expected from his history, frequently recurs to the duty. Plutarch writes very beautifully upon it in his treatise De Cohibenda Ira.
583 Diog. Laërt. Zeno.
584 Bodin thinks it was promulgated by Nero, and he has been followed by Troplong and Mr. Merivale. Champagny (Les Antonins, tome ii. p. 115) thinks that no law after Tiberius was called lex.
585 Sueton. Claud. xxv.; Dion Cass. lx. 29.
586 See Dumas, Secours publics chez les Anciens (Paris, 1813), pp. 125-130.
587 Senec. De Clem. i. 18.
588 Senec. De Benef. iii. 22.
589 Spartian. Hadrianus. Hadrian exiled a Roman lady for five years for treating her slaves with atrocious cruelty. (Digest. lib. i. tit. 6, § 2.)
590 See these laws fully examined by Wallon, tome iii. pp. 51-92, and also Laferrière, Sur l’Influence du Stoïcisme sur le Droit. The jurisconsults gave a very wide scope to their definitions of cruelty. A master who degraded a literary slave, or a slave musician, to some coarse manual employment, such as a porter, was decided to have ill-treated him. (Wallon, tome iii. p. 62.)
591 Thus, e.g., Livia called in the Stoic Areus to console her after the death of Drusus (Senec. Ad Marc.). Many of the letters of Seneca and Plutarch are written to console the suffering. Cato, Thrasea, and many others appear to have fortified their last hours by conversation with philosophers. The whole of this aspect of Stoicism has been admirably treated by M. Martha (Les Moralistes de l’Empire Romain).
592 We have a pleasing picture of the affection philosophers and their disciples sometimes bore to one another in the lines of Persius (Sat. v.) to his master Cornutus.
593 Grant’s Aristotle, vol. i. pp. 277-278.
594 Champagny, Les Antonins, tome i. p. 405.
595 Arrian, iii. 22. Julian has also painted the character of the true Cynic, and contrasted it with that of the impostors who assumed the garb. See Neander’s Life of Julian (London, 1850), p. 94.
596 Seneca the rhetorician (father of the philosopher) collected many of the sayings of the rhetoricians of his time. At a later period, Philostratus wrote the lives of eminent rhetoricians, Quintilian discussed their rules of oratory, and Aulus Gellius painted the whole society in which they moved. On their injurious influence upon eloquence, see Petronius, Satyricon, i. 2. Much curious information about the rhetoricians is collected in Martha, Moralistes de l’Empire Romain, and in Nisard, Etudes sur les Poëtes Latins de la Dècadence, art. Juvenal.
597 “Cependant ces orateurs n’étaient jamais plus admirés que lorsqu’ils avaient le bonheur de trouver un sujet où la louange fut un tour de force.... Lucien a fait l’éloge de la mouche; Fronton de la poussière, de la fumée, de la négligence; Dion Chrysostome de la chevelure, du perroquet, etc. Au cinquième siècle, Synésius, qui fut un grand évêque, fera le panégyrique de la calvitie, long ouvrage où toutes les sciences sont mises à contribution pour apprendre aux hommes ce qu’il y a non-seulement de bonheur mais aussi de mérite à être chauve.”—Martha, Moralistes de l’Empire Romain (ed. 1865), p. 275.
598 There is a good review of the teaching of Maximus in Champagny, Les Antonins, tome ii. pp. 207-215.
599 Orat. xv.; De Servitute.
600 See the singularly charming essay on Dion Chrysostom, in M. Martha’s book.
601 Mr. Buckle, in his admirable chapter on the “Proximate Causes of the French Revolution” (Hist. of Civilisation, vol. i.), has painted this fashionable enthusiasm for knowledge with great power, and illustrated it with ample learning.
602 The saying of Mme. Dudeffand about Helvétius is well known: “C’est un homme qui a dit le secret de tout le monde.” How truly Helvétius represented this fashionable society appears very plainly from the vivid portrait of it in the Nouvelle Hèloïse, part ii. letter xvii., a masterpiece of its kind.
603 Musonius tried to stop this custom of applauding the lecturer. (Aul. Gell. Noct. v. i.) The habits that were formed in the schools of the rhetoricians were sometimes carried into the churches, and we have notices of preachers (especially St. Chrysostom) being vociferously applauded.
604 Thus Gellius himself consulted Favorinus about a perplexing case which he had, in his capacity of magistrate, to determine, and received from his master a long dissertation on the duties of a judge (xiv. 2).
605 i. 10.
606 Noct. Att. vi. 13. They called these questions symposiacæ, as being well fitted to stimulate minds already mellowed by wine.
607 xviii. 2.
608 We have a curious example of this in a letter of Marcus Aurelius preserved by Gallicanus in his Life of Avidius Cassius.
609 “Senserunt hoc Stoici qui servis et mulieribus philosophandum esse dixerunt.”—Lact. Nat. Div. iii. 25. Zeno was often reproached for gathering the poorest and most sordid around him when he lectured. (Diog. Laërt. Zeno.)
610 This decadence was noticed and rebuked by some of the leading philosophers. See the language of Epictetus in Arrian, ii. 19, iv. 8, and of Herod Atticus in Aul. Gell. i. 2, ix. 2. St. Augustine speaks of the Cynics as having in his time sunk into universal contempt. See much evidence on this subject in Friedlænder, Hist. des Mœurs Romaines, tome iv. 378-385.
611 This movement is well treated by Vacherot, Hist. de l’École d’Alexandrie.
612 De Superstitione.
613 Dissertations, x. § 8 (ed. Davis, London, 1740). In some editions this is Diss. xxix.
614 Dissert. xxxviii.
615 De Dæmone Socratis.
616 De Dæmone Socratis. See, on the office of dæmons or genii, Arrian i. 14, and a curious chapter in Ammianus Marcell. xxi. 14. See, too, Plotinus, 3rd Enn. lib. iv.
617 De Dæmone Socratis.
618 I should except Plotinus, however, who was faithful in this point to Plato, and was in consequence much praised by the Christian Fathers.
619 “Omnium malorum maximum voluptas, qua tanquam clavo et fibula anima corpori nectitur; putatque vera quæ et corpus suadet, et ita spoliatur rerum divinarum aspectu.”—Iamblichus, De Secta Pythagor. (Romæ, 1556), p. 38. Plotinus, 1st Enn. vi. 6.
620 De Sect. Pyth. pp. 36, 37.
621 Porphyry, Life of Plotinus.
622 Iamblichus, De Mysteriis. 1.
623 See, on this doctrine of ecstasy, Vacherot, Hist. de l’École d’Alexandrie, tome i. p. 576, &c.
624 “Sic habeto, omnibus qui patriam conservaverint, adjuverint, auxerint, certum esse in cœlo ac definitum locum ubi beati ævo sempiterno fruantur.”—Cic. Somn. Scip.
625 Φῶς, which, according to Plutarch (who here confuses two distinct words), is poetically used for man (De Latenter Vivendo). A similar thought occurs in M. Aurelius, who speaks of the good man as light which only ceases to shine when it ceases to be.
626 Diss. xxi. § 6.
627 Iamblichus, De Sect. Pythagoræ, p. 35.
628 Porphyry, Life of Plotinus, cap. vii.; Plotinus, 1st Enn. iv. 7. See on this subject Degerando, Hist. de la Philos. iii. p. 383.
629 Thus it was said of Apollonius that in his teaching at Ephesus he did not speak after the manner of the followers of Socrates, but endeavoured to detach his disciples from all occupation other than philosophy.—Philostr. Apoll. of Tyana, iv. 2. Cicero notices the aversion the Pythagoreans of his time displayed to argument: “Quum ex iis quæreretur quare ita esset, respondere solitos, Ipse dixit; ipse autem erat Pythagoras.”—De Nat. Deor. i. 5.
630 See Vacherot, tome ii. p. 66.
631 See Degerando, Hist. de la Philosophie, tome iii. pp. 400, 401.
632 Plotinus, 1st Enn. ix.
633 See a strong passage, on the universality of this belief, in Plotinus, 1st Enn. i. 12, and Origen, Cont. Cels. vii. A very old tradition represented the Egyptians as the first people who held the doctrine of the immortality of the soul. Cicero (Tusc. Quæst.) says that the Syrian Pherecydes, master of Pythagoras, first taught it. Maximus of Tyre attributes its origin to Pythagoras, and his slave Zamolxis was said to have introduced it into Greece. Others say that Thales first taught it. None of these assertions have any real historical value.
634 We have a remarkable instance of the clearness with which some even of the most insignificant historians recognised the folly of confining history to the biographies of the Emperors, in the opening chapter of Capitolinus, Life of Macrinus.—Tacitus is full of beautiful episodes, describing the manners and religion of the people.
635 The passages relating to the Jews in Roman literature are collected in Aubertin’s Rapports supposés entre Sénèque et St. Paul. Champagny, Rome et Judée, tome i. pp. 134-137.
636 Cicero, pro Flacco, 28; Sueton. Claudius, 25.
637 Juvenal, Sat. xiv.
638 Hist. v.
639 Lact. Inst. Div. vii. 3.
640 See their history fully investigated in Aubertin. Augustine followed Jerome in mentioning the letters, but neither of these writers asserted their genuineness. Lactantius, nearly at the same time (Inst. Div. vi. 24), distinctly spoke of Seneca as a Pagan, as Tertullian (Apol. 50) had done before. The immense number of forged documents is one of the most disgraceful features of the Church history of the first few centuries.
641 Fleury has written an elaborate work maintaining the connection between the apostle and the philosopher. Troplong (Influence du Christianisme sur le Droit) has adopted the same view. Aubertin, in the work I have already cited, has maintained the opposite view (which is that of all or nearly all English critics) with masterly skill and learning. The Abbé Dourif (Rapports du Stoïcisme et du Christianisme) has placed side by side the passages from each writer which are most alike.
642 Quoted by St. Augustine.—De Civ. Dei, vi. 11.
643 xi. 3.
644 The history of the two schools has been elaborately traced by Ritter, Pressensé, and many other writers. I would especially refer to the fourth volume of Degerando’s most fascinating Histoire de la Philosophie.
645 “Scurra Atticus,” Min. Felix, Octav. This term is said by Cicero to have been given to Socrates by Zeno. (Cic. De Nat. Deor. i. 34.)
646 Tertull. De Anima, 39.
647 See especially his Apol. ii. 8, 12, 13. He speaks of the σπερματικὸς λόγος.
648 See, on all this, Clem. Alex. Strom. v., and also i. 22.
649 St. Clement repeats this twice (Strom. i. 24, v. 14). The writings of this Father are full of curious, and sometimes ingenious, attempts to trace different phrases of the great philosophers, orators, and poets to Moses. A vast amount of learning and ingenuity has been expended in the same cause by Eusebius. (Præp. Evan. xii. xiii.) The tradition of the derivation of Pagan philosophy from the Old Testament found in general little favour among the Latin writers. There is some curious information on this subject in Waterland’s “Charge to the Clergy of Middlesex, to prove that the wisdom of the ancients was borrowed from revelation; delivered in 1731.” It is in the 8th volume of Waterland’s works (ed. 1731).
650 St. Clement (Strom. i.) mentions that some think him to have been Ezekiel, an opinion which St. Clement himself does not hold. See, on the patristic notions about Pythagoras, Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, tome i. p. 164.
651 This was the opinion of Julius Firmicus Maternus, a Latin writer of the age of Constantine, “Nam quia Saræ pronepos fuerat... Serapis dictus est Græco sermone, hoc est Σαρᾶς ἄπο.”—Julius Firmicus Maternus, De Errore Profanarum Religionum, cap. xiv.
652 Justin Martyr, Apol. i. 54; Trypho, 69-70. There is a very curious collection of Pagan legends that were parallel to Jewish incidents, in La Mothe le Vayer, let. xciii.
653 Suet. Vesp. 7; Tacit. Hist. iv. 81. There is a slight difference between the two historians about the second miracle. Suetonius says it was the leg, Tacitus that it was the hand, that was diseased. The god Serapis was said to have revealed to the patients that they would be cured by the emperor. Tacitus says that Vespasian did not believe in his own power; that it was only after much persuasion he was induced to try the experiment; that the blind man was well known in Alexandria, where the event occurred, and that eyewitnesses who had no motive to lie still attested the miracle.
654 The following is a good specimen of the language which may still be uttered, apparently without exciting any protest, from the pulpit in one of the great centres of English learning: “But we have prayed, and not been heard, at least in this present visitation. Have we deserved to be heard? In former visitations it was observed commonly how the cholera lessened from the day of the public humiliation. When we dreaded famine from long-continued drought, on the morning of our prayers the heaven over our head was of brass; the clear burning sky showed no token of change. Men looked with awe at its unmitigated clearness. In the evening was the cloud like a man’s hand; the relief was come.” (And then the author adds, in a note): “This describes what I myself saw on the Sunday morning in Oxford, on returning from the early communion at St. Mary’s at eight. There was no visible change till the evening.”—Pusey’s Miracles of Prayer, preached at Oxford, 1866.
655 E.g.: “A master of philosophy, travelling with others on the way, when a fearful thunderstorm arose, checked the fear of his fellows, and discoursed to them of the natural reasons of that uproar in the clouds, and those sudden flashes wherewith they seemed (out of the ignorance of causes) to be too much affrighted: in the midst of his philosophical discourse he was struck dead with the dreadful eruption which he slighted. What could this be but the finger of that God who will have his works rather entertained with wonder and trembling than with curious scanning?”—Bishop Hall, The Invisible World, § vi.
656 Sir C. Lewis On the Credibility of Roman Hist. vol. i. p. 50.
657 Cic. De Divin. lib. i. c. 1.
658 “The days on which the miracle [of the king’s touch] was to be wrought were fixed at sittings of the Privy Council, and were solemnly notified by the clergy to all the parish churches of the realm. When the appointed time came, several divines in full canonicals stood round the canopy of state. The surgeon of the royal household introduced the sick. A passage of Mark xvi. was read. When the words ‘They shall lay their hands on the sick and they shall recover,’ had been pronounced, there was a pause and one of the sick was brought to the king. His Majesty stroked the ulcers.... Then came the Epistle, &c. The Service may still be found in the Prayer Books of the reign of Anne. Indeed, it was not until some time after the accession of George I. that the University of Oxford ceased to reprint the office of healing, together with the Liturgy. Theologians of eminent learning, ability, and virtue gave the sanction of their authority to this mummery, and, what is stranger still, medical men of high note believed, or affected to believe, it.... Charles II., in the course of his reign, touched near 100,000 persons.... In 1682 he performed the rite 8,500 times. In 1684 the throng was such that six or seven of the sick were trampled to death. James, in one of his progresses, touched 800 persons in the choir of the cathedral of Chester.”—Macaulay’s History of England, c. xiv.
659 One of the surgeons of Charles II. named John Brown, whose official duty it was to superintend the ceremony, and who assures us that he has witnessed many thousands touched, has written an extremely curious account of it, called Charisma Basilicon (London, 1684). This miraculous power existed exclusively in the English and French royal families, being derived, in the first, from Edward the Confessor, in the second, from St. Lewis. A surgeon attested the reality of the disease before the miracle was performed. The king hung a riband with a gold coin round the neck of the person touched; but Brown thinks the gold, though possessing great virtue, was not essential to the cure. He had known cases where the cured person had sold, or ceased to wear, the medal, and his disease returned. The gift was unimpaired by the Reformation, and an obdurate Catholic was converted on finding that Elizabeth, after the Pope’s excommunication, could cure his scrofula. Francis I. cured many persons when prisoner in Spain. Charles I., when a prisoner, cured a man by his simple benediction, the Puritans not permitting him to touch him. His blood had the same efficacy; and Charles II., when an exile in the Netherlands, still retained it. There were, however, some “Atheists, Sadducees, and ill-conditioned Pharisees” who even then disbelieved it; and Brown gives the letter of one who went, a complete sceptic, to satisfy his friends, and came away cured and converted. It was popularly, but Brown says erroneously, believed that the touch was peculiarly efficacious on Good Friday. An official register was kept, for every month in the reign of Charles II., of the persons touched, but two years and a half appear to be wanting. The smallest number touched in one year was 2,983 (in 1669); the total, in the whole reign, 92,107. Brown gives numbers of specific cases with great detail. Shakspeare has noticed the power (Macbeth, Act iv. Scene 3). Dr. Johnson, when a boy, was touched by Queen Anne; but at that time few persons, except Jacobites, believed the miracle.
660 Lucretius, lib. vi. The poet says there are certain seeds of fire in the earth, around the water, which the sun attracts to itself, but which the cold of the night represses, and forces back upon the water.
The fountain of Jupiter Ammon, and many others that were deemed miraculous, are noticed by Pliny, Hist. Nat. ii. 106.
“Fly not yet; the fount that played
In times of old through Ammon’s shade,
Though icy cold by day it ran,
Yet still, like souls of mirth, began
To burn when night was near.”—Moore’s Melodies.
661 Tacit. Annal. i. 28. Long afterwards, the people of Turin were accustomed to greet every eclipse with loud cries, and St. Maximus of Turin energetically combated their superstition. (Ceillier, Hist. des Auteurs sacrés, tome xiv. p. 607.)
662 Suet. Aug. xci.
663 See the answer of the younger Pliny (Ep. i. 18), suggesting that dreams should often be interpreted by contraries. A great many instances of dreams that were believed to have been verified are given in Cic. (De Divinatione, lib. i.) and Valerius Maximus (lib. i. c. vii.). Marcus Aurelius (Capitolinus) was said to have appeared to many persons after his death in dreams, and predicted the future.
664 The augurs had noted eleven kinds of lightning with different significations. (Pliny, Hist. Nat. ii. 53.) Pliny says all nations agree in clapping their hands when it lightens (xxviii. 5). Cicero very shrewdly remarked that the Roman considered lightning a good omen when it shone upon his left, while the Greeks and barbarians believed it to be auspicious when it was upon the right. (Cic. De Divinat. ii. 39.) When Constantine prohibited all other forms of magic, he especially authorised that which was intended to avert hail and lightning. (Cod. Theod. lib. ix. tit. xvi. 1. 3.)
665 Suet. Aug. xc.
666 Ibid. Tiber. lxix. The virtue of laurel leaves, and of the skin of a sea-calf, as preservatives against lightning, are noticed by Pliny (Hist. Nat. ii. 56), who also says (xv. 40) that the laurel leaf is believed to have a natural antipathy to fire, which it shows by its angry crackling when in contact with that element.
667 Suet. Calig. ii.
668 Suet. Jul. Cæs. lxxxviii.
669 Plin. Hist. Nat. ii. 23.
670 “Prodigia eo anno multa nuntiata sunt, quæ quo magis credebant simplices ac religiosi homines eo plura nuntiabantur” (xxiv. 10). Compare with this the remark of Cicero on the oracles: “Quando autem illa vis evanuit? An postquam homines minus creduli esse cœperunt?” (De Div. ii. 57.)
671 This theory, which is developed at length by the Stoic, in the first book of the De Divinatione of Cicero, grew out of the pantheistic notion that the human soul is a part of the Deity, and therefore by nature a participator in the Divine attribute of prescience. The soul, however, was crushed by the weight of the body; and there were two ways of evoking its prescience—the ascetic way, which attenuates the body, and the magical way, which stimulates the soul. Apollonius declared that his power of prophecy was not due to magic, but solely to his abstinence from animal food. (Philost. Ap. of Tyana, viii. 5.) Among those who believed the oracles, there were two theories. The first was that they were inspired by dæmons or spirits of a degree lower than the gods. The second was, that they were due to the action of certain vapours which emanated from the caverns beneath the temples, and which, by throwing the priestess into a state of delirium, evoked her prophetic powers. The first theory was that of the Platonists, and it was adopted by the Christians, who, however, changed the signification of the word dæmon. The second theory, which appears to be due to Aristotle (Baltus, Réponse à l’Histoire des Oracles, p. 132), is noticed by Cic. De Div. i. 19; Plin. H. N. ii. 95; and others. It is closely allied to the modern belief in clairvoyance. Plutarch, in his treatise on the decline of the oracles, attributes that decline sometimes to the death of the dæmons (who were believed to be mortal), and sometimes to the exhaustion of the vapours. The oracles themselves, according to Porphyry (Fontenelle, Hist. des Oracles, pp. 220-222, first ed.), attributed it to the second cause. Iamblichus (De Myst. § iii. c. xi.) combines both theories, and both are very clearly stated in the following curious passage: “Quamquam Platoni credam inter deos atque homines, natura et loco medias quasdam divorum potestates intersitas, easque divinationes cunctas et magorum miracula gubernare. Quin et illud mecum reputo, posse animum humanum, præsertim, puerilem et simplicem, seu carminum avocamento, sive odorum delenimento, soporari, et ad oblivionem præsentium externari: et paulis per remota corporis memoria, redigi ac redire ad naturam suam, quæ est immortalis scilicet et divina; atque ita veluti quodam sopore, futura rerum præsagire.”—Apuleius, Apolog.
672 Aul. Gell. Noct. ii. 28. Florus, however (Hist. i. 19), mentions a Roman general appeasing the goddess Earth on the occasion of an earthquake that occurred during a battle.
673 Ælian, Hist. Var. iv. 17.
674 Hist. Nat. ii. 81-86.
675 Ibid. ii. 9.
676 Ibid. ii. 23.
677 I have referred in the last chapter to a striking passage of Am. Marcellinus on this combination. The reader may find some curious instances of the superstitions of Roman sceptics in Champagny, Les Antonins, tome iii. p. 46.
678 viii. 19. This is also mentioned by Lucretius.
679 viii. 1.
680 viii. 50. This was one of the reasons why the early Christians sometimes adopted the stag as a symbol of Christ.
681 xxix. 23.
682 xxxii. 1.
683 vii. 2.
684 xxviii. 7. The blind man restored to sight by Vespasian was cured by anointing his eyes with spittle. (Suet. Vesp. 7; Tacit. Hist. iv. 81.)
685 Ibid. The custom of spitting in the hand before striking still exists among pugilists.
686 ii. 101.
687 Legendre, Traité de l’Opinion, tome ii. p. 17. The superstition is, however, said still to linger in many sea-coast towns.
688 Lucian is believed to have died about two years before Marcus Aurelius.
689 See his very curious Life by Philostratus. This Life was written at the request of Julia Domna, the wife of Septimus Severus, whether or not with the intention of opposing the Gospel narrative is a question still fiercely discussed. Among the most recent Church historians, Pressensé maintains the affirmative, and Neander the negative. Apollonius was born at nearly the same time as Christ, but outlived Domitian. The traces of his influence are widely spread through the literature of the empire. Eunapius calls him “Ἀπολλώνιος ὁ ἐκ Τυάνων, οὐκέτι φιλόσοφος ἀλλ᾽ ἦν τι θεῶν τε καὶ ἀνθρώπου μέσον.”—Lives of the Sophists. Xiphilin relates (lxvii. 18) the story, told also by Philostratus, how Apollonius, being at Ephesus, saw the assassination of Domitian at Rome. Alexander Severus placed (Lampridius Severus) the statue of Apollonius with those of Orpheus, Abraham, and Christ, for worship in his oratory. Aurelian was reported to have been diverted from his intention of destroying Tyana by the ghost of the philosopher, who appeared in his tent, rebuked him, and saved the city (Vopiscus, Aurelian); and, lastly, the Pagan philosopher Hierocles wrote a book opposing Apollonius to Christ, which was answered by Eusebius. The Fathers of the fourth century always spoke of him as a great magician. Some curious passages on the subject are collected by M. Chassang, in the introduction to his French translation of the work of Philostratus.
690 See his defence against the charge of magic. Apuleius, who was at once a brilliant rhetorician, the writer of an extremely curious novel (The Metamorphoses, or Golden Ass), and of many other works, and an indefatigable student of the religious mysteries of his time, lived through the reigns of Hadrian and his two successors. After his death his fame was for about a century apparently eclipsed; and it has been noticed as very remarkable that Tertullian, who lived a generation after Apuleius, and who, like him, was a Carthaginian, has never even mentioned him. During the fourth century his reputation revived, and Lactantius, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine relate that many miracles were attributed to him, and that he was placed by the Pagans on a level with Christ, and regarded by some as even a greater magician. See the sketch of his life by M. Bétolaud prefixed to the Panckoucke edition of his works.
691 Life of Alexander. There is an extremely curious picture of the religious jugglers, who were wandering about the Empire, in the eighth and ninth books of the Metamorphoses of Apuleius. See, too, Juvenal, Sat. vi. 510-585.
692 Porphyry’s Life of Plotinus.
693 Eunapius, Porph.
694 Ibid. Iamb. Iamblichus himself only laughed at the report.
695 Eunapius, Iamb.
696 See her life in Eunapius, Œdescus. Ælian and the rhetorician Aristides are also full of the wildest prodigies. There is an interesting dissertation on this subject in Friedlænder (Trad. Franc. tome iv. p. 177-186).
697 “Credat Judæus Apella.”—Hor. Sat. v. 100.
698 This appears from all the writings of the Fathers. There were, however, two forms of Pagan miracles about which there was some hesitation in the early Church—the beneficent miracle of healing and the miracle of prophecy. Concerning the first, the common opinion was that the dæmons only cured diseases they had themselves caused, or that, at least, if they ever (in order to enthral men more effectually) cured purely natural diseases, they did it by natural means, which their superior knowledge and power placed at their disposal. Concerning prophecy, it was the opinion of some of the Fathers that intuitive prescience was a Divine prerogative, and that the prescience of the dæmons was only acquired by observation. Their immense knowledge enabled them to forecast events to a degree far transcending human faculties, and they employed this power in the oracles.
699 De Origine ac Progressu Idolatriæ (Amsterdam).
700 This characteristic of early Christian apology is forcibly exhibited by Pressensé, Hist. des trois premiers Siècles, 2me série, tome ii.
701 The immense number of these forged writings is noticed by all candid historians, and there is, I believe, only one instance of any attempt being made to prevent this pious fraud. A priest was degraded for having forged some voyages of St. Paul and St. Thecla. (Tert. De Baptismo, 17.)
702 Apol. i.
703 Strom. vi. c. 5.
704 Origen, Cont. Cols. v.
705 Oratio (apud Euseb.) xviii.
706 De Civ. Dei, xviii. 23.
707 Constantine, Oratio xix. “His testimoniis quidam revicti solent eo confugere ut aiant non esse illa carmina Sibyllina, sed a nostris conficta atque composita.”—Lactant. Div. Inst. iv. 15.
708 Antonius Possevinus, Apparatus Sacer (1606), verb. “Sibylla.”
709 This subject is fully treated by Middleton in his Free Enquiry, whom I have closely followed.
710 Irenæus, Contr. Hæres. ii. 32.
711 Epiphan. Adv. Hæres. ii. 30.
712 St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, xxii. 8.
713 This history is related by St. Ambrose in a letter to his sister Marcellina; by St. Paulinus of Nola, in his Life of Ambrose; and by St. Augustine, De Civ. Dei, xxii. 8; Confess. ix. 7.
714 Plutarch thought they were known by Plato, but this opinion has been much questioned. See a very learned discussion on the subject in Farmer’s Dissertation on Miracles, pp. 129-140; and Fontenelle, Hist. des Oracles, pp. 26, 27. Porphyry speaks much of evil dæmons.
715 Josephus, Antiq. viii. 2, § 5.
716 This very curious subject is fully treated by Baltus (Réponse à l’Histoire des Oracles, Strasburg, 1707, published anonymously in reply to Van Dale and Fontenelle), who believed in the reality of the Pagan as well as the patristic miracles; by Bingham (Antiquities of the Christian Church, vol. i. pp. 316-324), who thinks the Pagan and Jewish exorcists were impostors, but not the Christians; and by Middleton (Free Enquiry, pp. 80-93), who disbelieves in all the exorcists after the apostolic times. It has also been the subject of a special controversy in England, carried on by Dodwell, Church, Farmer, and others. Archdeacon Church says: “If we cannot vindicate them [the Fathers of the first three centuries] on this article, their credit must be lost for ever; and we must be obliged to decline all further defence of them. It is impossible for any words more strongly to express a claim to this miracle than those used by all the best writers of the second and third centuries.”—Vindication of the Miracles of the First Three Centuries, p. 199. So, also, Baltus: “De tous les anciens auteurs ecclésiastiques, n’y en ayant pas un qui n’ait parlé de ce pouvoir admirable que les Chrétiens avoient de chasser les démons” (p. 296). Gregory of Tours describes exorcism as sufficiently common in his time, and mentions having himself seen a monk named Julian cure by his words a possessed person. (Hist. iv. 32.)
717 Vit. Hilar. Origen notices that cattle were sometimes possessed by devils. See Middleton’s Free Enquiry, pp. 88, 89.
718 The miracle of St. Babylas is the subject of a homily by St. Chrysostom, and is related at length by Theodoret, Sozomen, and Socrates. Libanius mentions that, by command of Julian, the bones of St. Babylas were removed from the temple. The Christians said the temple was destroyed by lightning; the Pagans declared it was burnt by the Christians, and Julian ordered measures of reprisal to be taken. Amm. Marcellinus, however, mentions a report that the fire was caused accidentally by one of the numerous candles employed in the ceremony. The people of Antioch defied the emperor by chanting, as they removed the relics, “Confounded be all they that trust in graven images.”
719 See the Life of Gregory Thaumaturgus, by Gregory of Nyssa. St. Gregory the Great assures us (Dial. iii. 10) that Sabinus, Bishop of Placentia, wrote a letter to the river Po, which had overflowed its banks and flooded some church lands. When the letter was thrown into the stream the waters at once subsided.
720 “Edatur hic aliquis sub tribunalibus vestris, quem dæmone agi constet. Jussus a quolibet Christiano loqui spiritus ille, tam se dæmonem confitebitur de vero, quam alibi deum de falso. Æque producatur aliquis ex iis qui de deo pati existimantur, qui aris inhalantes numen de nidore concipiunt... nisi se dæmones confessi fuerint, Christiano mentiri non audentes, ibidem illius Christiani procacissimi sanguinem fundite. Quid isto opere manifestius? quid hæc probatione fidelius?”—Tert. Apol. xxiii.
721 Apol. i.; Trypho.
722 Cont. Cels. vii.
723 Inst. Div. iv. 27.
724 Life of Antony.
725 Octavius.
726 De Superstitione.
727 i. 6.
728 De Mort. Peregrin.
729 Origen, Adv. Cels. vi. Compare the curious letter which Vopiscus (Saturninus) attributes to Hadrian, “Nemo illic [i.e. in Egypt] archisynagogus Judæorum, nemo Samarites, nemo Christianorum presbyter, non mathematicus, non aruspex, non aliptes.”
730 “Si incantavit, si imprecatus est, si (ut vulgari verbo impostorum utor) exorcizavit.”—Bingham, Antiquities of the Christian Church (Oxf., 1855), vol. i. p. 318. This law is believed to have been directed specially against the Christians, because these were very prominent as exorcists, and because Lactantius (Inst. Div. v. 11) says that Ulpian had collected the laws against them.
731 Philostorgius, Hist. Eccl. viii. 10.
732 See Juvenal, Sat. vi. 314-335.
733 See Juvenal, Sat. vi. 520-530.
734 Metamorphoses, book x.
735 See their Lives, by Lampridius and Spartianus.
736 The conflict between St. Cyprian and the confessors, concerning the power of remitting penances claimed by the latter, though it ended in the defeat of the confessors, shows clearly the influence they had obtained.
737 “Thura plane non emimus; si Arabiæ queruntur scient Sabæi pluris et carioris suas merces Christianis sepeliendis profligari quam diis fumigandis.”—Apol. 42. Sometimes the Pagans burnt the bodies of the martyrs, in order to prevent the Christians venerating their relics.
738 Many interesting particulars about these commemrative festivals are collected in Cave’s Primitive Christianity, part i. c. vii. The anniversaries were called “Natalia,” or birth-days.
739 See her acts in Ruinart.
740 St. Clem. Alex. Strom. iv. 10. There are other passages of the same kind in other Fathers.
741 Ad Scapul. v. Eusebius (Martyrs of Palestine, ch. iii.) has given a detailed account of six young men, who in the very height of the Galerian persecution, at a time when the most hideous tortures were applied to the Christians, voluntarily gave themselves up as believers. Sulp. Severus (Hist. ii. 32), speaking of the voluntary martyrs under Diocletian, says that Christians then “longed for death as they now long for bishoprics.” “Cogi qui potest, nescit mori,” was the noble maxim of the Christians.
742 Arrian, iv. 7. It is not certain, however, that this passage alludes to the Christians. The followers of Judas of Galilee were called Galilæans, and they were famous for their indifference to death. See Joseph. Antiq. xviii. 1.
743 xi. 3.
744 Peregrinus.
745 Zosimus.
746 “Do I not hate them, O Lord, that hate thee?—yea, I hate them with a perfect hatred.”
747 See Renan’s Apôtres, p. 314.
748 M. Pressensé very truly says of the Romans, “Leur religion était essentiellement un art—l’art de découvrir les desseins des dieux et d’agir sur eux par des rites variés.”—Hist. des Trois premiers Siècles, tome i. p. 192. Montesquieu has written an interesting essay on the political nature of the Roman religion.
749 Sueton. Claud. xxv.
750 Plin. Hist. Nat. vii. 31.
751 Tacit. De Orat. xxxv.; Aul. Gell. Noct. xv. 11. It would appear, from this last authority, that the rhetoricians were twice expelled.
752 Dion Cassius, lii. 36. Most historians believe that this speech represents the opinions, not of the Augustan age, but of the age of the writer who relates it.
753 On the hostility of Vespasian to philosophers, see Xiphilin, lxvi. 13; on that of Domitian, the Letters of Pliny and the Agricola of Tacitus.
754 See a remarkable passage in Dion Chrysostom, Or. lxxx. De Libertate.
755 Cic. De Legib. ii. 11; Tertull. Apol. v.
756 Livy, iv. 30
757 Val. Maximus, i. 3, § 1.
758 Livy, xxv. 1.
759 Val. Max. i. 3, § 2.
760 See the account of these proceedings, and of the very remarkable speech of Postumius, in Livy, xxxix. 8-19. Postumius notices the old prohibition of foreign rites, and thus explains it:—“Judicabant enim prudentissimi viri omnis divini humanique juris, nihil æque dissolvendæ religionis esse, quam ubi non patrio sed externo ritu sacrificaretur.” The Senate, though suppressing these rites on account of the outrageous immoralities connected with them, decreed, that if any one thought it a matter of religious duty to perform religious ceremonies to Bacchus, he should be allowed to do so on applying for permission to the Senate, provided there were not more than five assistants, no common purse, and no presiding priest.
761 Val. Max. i. 3.
762 See Dion Cassius, xl. 47; xlii. 26; xlvii. 15; liv. 6.
763 Joseph. Antiq. xviii. 3.
764 Tacit. Annal. ii. 85.
765 Tacitus relates (Ann. xi. 15) that under Claudius a senatus consultus ordered the pontiffs to take care that the old Roman (or, more properly, Etruscan) system of divination was observed, since the influx of foreign superstitions had led to its disuse; but it does not appear that this measure was intended to interfere with any other form of worship.
766 “Sacrosanctam istam civitatem accedo.”—Apuleius, Metam. lib. x. It is said that there were at one time no less than 420 ædes sacræ in Rome. Nieupoort, De Ritibus Romanorum (1716), p. 276.
767 Euseb. Præp. Evang. iv. 1. Fontenelle says very truly, “Il y a lieu de croire que chez les payens la religion n’estoit qu’une pratique, dont la spéculation estoit indifférente. Faites comme les autres et croyez ce qu’il vous plaira.”—Hist. des Oracles, p. 95. It was a saying of Tiberius, that it is for the gods to care for the injuries done to them: “Deorum injurias diis curæ.”—Tacit. Annal. i. 73.
768 The most melancholy modern instance I remember is a letter of Hume to a young man who was thinking of taking orders, but who, in the course of his studies, became a complete sceptic. Hume strongly advised him not to allow this consideration to interfere with his career (Burton, Life of Hume, vol. ii. pp. 187, 188.) The utilitarian principles of the philosopher were doubtless at the root of his judgment.
769 De Divinat. ii. 33; De Nat. Deor. ii. 3.
770 “Quæ omnia sapiens servabit tanquam legibus jussa non tanquam diis grata.... Meminerimus cultum ejus magis ad morem quam ad rem pertinere.”—St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, vi. 10. St. Augustine denounces this view with great power. See, too, Lactantius. Inst. Div. ii. 3.
771 Enchirid. xxxi.
772 This is noticed by Philo.
773 The ship in which the atheist Diagoras sailed was once nearly wrecked by a tempest, and the sailors declared that it was a just retribution from the gods because they had received the philosopher into their vessel. Diagoras, pointing to the other ships that were tossed by the same storm, asked whether they imagined there was a Diagoras in each. (Cic. De Nat. Deor. iii. 37.)
774 The vestal Oppia was put to death because the diviners attributed to her unchastity certain “prodigies in the heavens,” that had alarmed the people at the beginning of the war with Veii. (Livy, ii. 42.) The vestal Urbinia was buried alive on account of a plague that had fallen upon the Roman women, which was attributed to her incontinence, and which is said to have ceased suddenly upon her execution. (Dion. Halicar. ix.)
775 Pliny, in his famous letter to Trajan about the Christians, notices that this had been the case in Bithynia.
776 Tert. Apol. xl. See, too, Cyprian, contra Demetrian., and Arnobius, Apol. lib. i.
777 St. Aug. De Civ. Dei, ii. 3.
778 Instances of this kind are given by Tertullian Ad Scapulam, and the whole treatise On the Deaths of the Persecutors, attributed to Lactantius, is a development of the same theory. St. Cyprian’s treatise against Demetrianus throws much light on the mode of thought of the Christians of his time. In the later historians, anecdotes of adversaries of the Church dying horrible deaths became very numerous. They were said especially to have been eaten by worms. Many examples of this kind are collected by Jortin. (Remarks on Eccles. Hist. vol. i. p. 432.)
779 “It is remarkable, in all the proclamations and documents which Eusebius assigns to Constantine, some even written by his own hand, how, almost exclusively, he dwells on this worldly superiority of the God adored by the Christians over those of the heathens, and the visible temporal advantages which attend on the worship of Christianity. His own victory, and the disasters of his enemies, are his conclusive evidences of Christianity.”—Milman, Hist. of Early Christianity (ed. 1867), vol. ii. p. 327. “It was a standing argument of Athanasius, that the death of Arius was a sufficient refutation of his heresy.”—Ibid. p. 382.
780 Socrates, Eccl. Hist., vii. 30.
781 Greg. Tur. ii. 30, 31. Clovis wrote to St. Avitus, “Your faith is our victory.”
782 Milman’s Latin Christianity (ed. 1867), vol. ii. pp. 236-245.
783 Ibid. vol. iii. p. 248.
784 Ep. xl.
785 “An diutius perferimus mutari temporum vices, irata cœli temperie? Quæ Paganorum exacerbata perfidia nescit naturæ libramenta servare. Unde enim ver solitam gratiam abjuravit? unde æstas, messe jejuna, laboriosum agricolam in spe destituit aristarum? unde hyemis intemperata ferocitas uberitatem terrarum penetrabili frigore sterilitatis læsione damnavit? nisi quod ad impietatis vindictam transit lege sua naturæ decretum.”—Novell. lii. Theodos. De Judæis, Samaritanis, et Hæreticis.
786 Milman’s Latin Christianity vol. ii. p. 354.
787 Démonomanie des Sorciers, p. 152.
788 See a curious instance in Bayle’s Dictionary, art. “Vergerius.”
789 Pliny, Ep. x. 43. Trajan noticed that Nicomedia was peculiarly turbulent. On the edict against the hetæriæ, or associations, see Ep. x. 97.
790 All the apologists are full of these charges. The chief passages have been collected in that very useful and learned work, Kortholt, De Calumniis contra Christianos. (Cologne, 1683.)
791 Justin Martyr tells us it was the brave deaths of the Christians that converted him. (Apol. ii. 12.)
792 Peregrinus.
793 Ep. x. 97.
794 Ep. ii.
795 Juvenal describes the popular estimate of the Jews:—
“Tradidit arcano quodcunque volumine Moses;
Non monstrare vias, eadem nisi sacra colenti,
Quæsitum ad fontem solos deducere verpos.”
Sat. xix. 102-105.
It is not true that the Mosaic law contains these precepts.
796 See Merivale’s Hist. of Rome, vol. viii. p. 176.
797 See Justin Martyr, Trypho, xvii.
798 Justin Martyr, Apol. i. 26.
799 Eusebius expressly notices that the licentiousness of the sect of Carpocrates occasioned calumnies against the whole of the Christian body. (iv. 7.) A number of passages from the Fathers describing the immorality of these heretics are referred to by Cave, Primitive Christianity, part ii. ch. v.
800 Epiphanius, Adv. Hær. lib. i. Hær. 26. The charge of murdering children, and especially infants, occupies a very prominent place among the recriminations of religionists. The Pagans, as we have seen, brought it against the Christians, and the orthodox against some of the early heretics. The Christians accused Julian of murdering infants for magical purposes, and the bed of the Orontes was said to have been choked with their bodies. The accusation was then commonly directed against the Jews, against the witches, and against the mid-wives, who were supposed to be in confederation with the witches.
801 See an example in Eusebius, iii. 32. After the triumph of Christianity the Arian heretics appear to have been accustomed to bring accusations of immorality against the Catholics. They procured the deposition of St. Eustathius, Bishop of Antioch, by suborning a prostitute to accuse him of being the father of her child. The woman afterwards, on her death-bed, confessed the imposture. (Theodor. Hist. i. 21-22.) They also accused St. Athanasius of murder and unchastity, both of which charges he most triumphantly repelled. (Ibid. i. 30.)
802 The great exertions and success of the Christians in making female converts is indignantly noticed by Celsus (Origen) and by the Pagan interlocutor in Minucius Felix (Octavius), and a more minute examination of ecclesiastical history amply confirms their statements. I shall have in a future chapter to revert to this matter. Tertullian graphically describes the anger of a man he knew, at the conversion of his wife, and declares he would rather have had her “a prostitute than a Christian.” (Ad Nationes, i. 4.) He also mentions a governor of Cappadocia, named Herminianus, whose motive for persecuting the Christians was his anger at the conversion of his wife, and who, in consequence of his having persecuted, was devoured by worms. (Ad Scapul. 3.)
803 “Matronarum Auriscalpius.” The title was given to Pope St. Damasus. See Jortin’s Remarks on Ecclesiastical History, vol. ii. p. 27. Ammianus Marcellinus notices (xxvii. 3) the great wealth the Roman bishops of his time had acquired through the gifts of women. Theodoret (Hist. Eccl. ii. 17) gives a curious account of the energetic proceedings of the Roman ladies upon the exile of Pope Liberius.
804 Conj. Præcept. This passage has been thought to refer to the Christians; if so, it is the single example of its kind in the writings of Plutarch.
805 Pliny, in his letter on the Christians, notices that their assemblies were before daybreak. Tertullian and Minucius Felix speak frequently of the “nocturnes convocationes,” or “nocturnes congregationes” of the Christians. The following passage, which the last of these writers puts into the mouth of a Pagan, describes forcibly the popular feeling about the Christians: “Qui de ultima fæce collectis imperitioribus et mulieribus credulis sexus sui facilitate labentibus, plebem profanæ conjurationis instituunt: quæ nocturnis congregationibus et jejuniis solennibus et inhumanis cibis non sacro quodam sed piaculo fœderantur, latebrosa et lucifugax natio, in publico muta, in angulis garrula; templa ut busta despiciunt, deos despuunt, rident sacra.”—Octavius. Tertullian, in exhorting the Christian women not to intermarry with Pagans, gives as one reason that they would not permit them to attend this “nightly convocation.” (Ad Uxorem, ii. 4.) This whole chapter is a graphic but deeply painful picture of the utter impossibility of a Christian woman having any real community of feeling with a “servant of the devil.”
806 De Civ. Dei, xix. 23.
807 The policy of the Romans with reference to magic has been minutely traced by Maury, Hist. de la Magie. Dr. Jeremie conjectures that the exorcisms of the Christians may have excited the antipathy of Marcus Aurelius, he, as I have already noticed, being a disbeliever on this subject. (Jeremie, Hist. of Church in the Second and Third Cent. p. 26.) But this is mere conjecture.
808 See the picture of the sentiments of the Pagans on this matter, in Plutarch’s noble Treatise on Superstition.
809 Thus Justin Martyr: “Since sensation remains in all men who have been in existence, and everlasting punishment is in store, do not hesitate to believe, and be convinced that what I say is true.... This Gehenna is a place where all will be punished who live unrighteously, and who believe not that what God has taught through Christ will come to pass.”—Apol. 1. 18-19. Arnobius has stated very forcibly the favourite argument of many later theologians: “Cum ergo hæc sit conditio futurorum ut teneri et comprehendi nullius possint anticipationis attactu: nonne purior ratio est, ex duobus incertis et in ambigua expectatione pendentibus, id potius credere quod aliquas spes ferat, quam omnino quod nullas? In illo enim periculi nihil est, si quod dicitur imminere cassum fiat et vacuum. In hoc damnum est maximum.”—Adv. Gentes, lib. i
810 The continual enforcement of the duty of belief, and the credulity of the Christians, were perpetually dwelt on by Celsus and Julian. According to the first, it was usual for them to say, “Do not examine, but believe only.” According to the latter, “the sum of their wisdom was comprised in this single precept, believe.” The apologists frequently notice this charge of credulity as brought against the Christians, and some famous sentences of Tertullian go far to justify it. See Middleton’s Free Enquiry, Introd. pp. xcii, xciii.
811 See the graphic picture of the agony of terror manifested by the apostates as they tottered to the altar at Alexandria, in the Decian persecution, in Dionysius apud Eusebius, vi. 41. Miraculous judgments (often, perhaps, the natural consequence of this extreme fear) were said to have frequently fallen upon the apostates. St. Cyprian has preserved a number of these in his treatise De Lapsis. Persons, when excommunicated, were also said to have been sometimes visibly possessed by devils. See Church, On Miraculous Powers in the First Three Centuries, pp. 52-54.
812 “Si quis aliquid fecerit, quo leves hominum animi superstitione numinis terrerentur, Divus Marcus hujusmodi homines in insulam relegari rescripsit,” Dig. xlviii. tit. 19, l. 30.
813 A number of instances have been recorded, in which the punishment of the Christians was due to their having broken idols, overturned altars, or in other ways insulted the Pagans at their worship. The reader may find many examples of this collected in Cave’s Primitive Christianity, part i. c. v.; Kortholt, De Calumniis contra Christianos; Barbeyrac, Morale des Pères, c. xvii.; Tillemont, Mém. ecclésiast. tome vii. pp. 354-355; Ceillier, Hist. des Auteurs sacrés, tome iii. pp. 531-533. The Council of Illiberis found it necessary to make a canon refusing the title of “martyr” to those who were executed for these offences.
814 The first of these anecdotes is told by St. Jerome, the second by St. Clement of Alexandria, the third by St. Irenæus.
815 The severe discipline of the early Church on this point has been amply treated in Marshall’s Penitential Discipline of the Primitive Church (first published in 1714, but reprinted in the library of Anglo-Catholic theology), and in Bingham’s Antiquities of the Christian Church, vol. vi. (Oxford, 1855). The later saints continually dwelt upon this duty of separation. Thus, “St. Théodore de Phermé disoit, que quand une personne dont nous étions amis estoit tombée dans la fornication, nous devions luy donner la main et faire notre possible pour le relever; mais que s’il estoit tombé dans quelque erreur contre la foi, et qu’il ne voulust pas s’en corriger après les premières remonstrances, il falloit l’abandonner promptement et rompre toute amitié avec luy, de peur qu’en nous amusant à le vouloir retirer de ce gouffre, il ne nous y entraînast nous-mêmes.”—Tillemont, Mém. Ecclés. tome xii. p. 367.
816 “Habere jam non potest Deum patrem qui ecclesiam non habet matrem. Si potuit evadere quisquam qui extra arcam Noe fuit, et qui extra ecclesiam foris fuerit evadit... hanc unitatem qui non tenet... vitam non tenet et salutem... esse martyr non potest qui in ecclesia non est.... Cum Deo manere non possunt qui esse in ecclesia Dei unanimes noluerunt. Ardeant licet flammis et ignibus traditi, vel objecti bestiis animas suas ponunt, non erit illa fidei corona, sed pœna perfidiæ, nec religiosæ virtutis exitus gloriosus sed desperationis interitus. Occidi talis potest, coronari non potest. Sic se Christianum esse profitetur quo modo et Christum diabolus sæpe mentitur.”—Cyprian, De Unit. Eccles.
817 Eusebius, v. 16.
818 Confess. iii. 11. She was afterwards permitted by a special revelation to sit at the same table with her son!
819 Ep. xl.
820 Ep. xviii.
821 Tertull. De Corona.
822 Milman’s Hist. of Christianity, vol. ii. pp. 116-125. It is remarkable that the Serapeum of Alexandria was, in the Sibylline books, specially menaced with destruction.
823 Eunapius, Lives of the Sophists. Eunapius gives an extremely pathetic account of the downfall of this temple. There is a Christian account in Theodoret (v. 22). Theophilus, Bishop of Alexandria, was the leader of the monks. The Pagans, under the guidance of a philosopher named Olympus, made a desperate effort to defend their temple. The whole story is very finely told by Dean Milman. (Hist. of Christianity, vol. iii. pp. 68-72.)
824 Apology, v. The overwhelming difficulties attending this assertion are well stated by Gibbon, ch. xvi. Traces of this fable may be found in Justin Martyr. The freedom of the Christian worship at Rome appears not only from the unanimity with which Christian writers date their troubles from Nero, but also from the express statement in Acts xxviii. 31.
825 “Judæos, impulsore Chresto, assidue tumultuantes, Roma expulit.”—Sueton. Claud. xxv. This banishment of the Jews is mentioned in Acts xviii. 2, but is not there connected in any way with Christianity. A passage in Dion Cassius (lx. 6) is supposed to refer to the same transaction. Lactantius notices that the Pagans were accustomed to call Christus, Chrestus: “Eum immutata litera Chrestum solent dicere.”—Div. Inst. iv. 7.
826 This persecution is fully described by Tacitus (Annal. xv. 44), and briefly noticed by Suetonius (Nero, xvi.).
827 This has been a matter of very great controversy. Looking at the question apart from direct testimony, it appears improbable that a persecution directed against the Christians on the charge of having burnt Rome, should have extended to Christians who did not live near Rome. On the other hand, it has been argued that Tacitus speaks of them as “haud perinde in crimine incendii, quam odio humani generis convicti;” and it has been maintained that “hatred of the human race” was treated as a crime, and punished in the provinces. But this is, I think, extremely far-fetched; and it is evident from the sequel that the Christians at Rome were burnt as incendiaries, and that it was the conviction that they were not guilty of that crime that extorted the pity which Tacitus notices. There is also no reference in Tacitus to any persecution beyond the walls. If we pass to the Christian evidence, a Spanish inscription referring to the Neronian persecution, which was once appealed to as decisive, is now unanimously admitted to be a forgery. In the fourth century, however, Sulp. Severus (lib. ii.) and Orosius (Hist. vii. 7) declared that general laws condemnatory of Christianity were promulgated by Nero; but the testimony of credulous historians who wrote so long after the event is not of much value. Rossi, however, imagines that a fragment of an inscription found at Pompeii indicates a general law against Christians. See his Bulletino d’Archeologia Cristiana (Roma, Dec. 1865), which, however, should be compared with the very remarkable Compte rendu of M. Aubé, Acad. des Inscrip. et Belles-lettres, Juin 1866. These two papers contain an almost complete discussion of the persecutions of Nero and Domitian. Gibbon thinks it quite certain the persecution was confined to the city; Mosheim (Eccl. Hist. i. p. 71) adopts the opposite view, and appeals to the passage in Tertullian (Ap. v.), in which he speaks of “leges istæ... quas Trajanus ex parte frustratus est, vitando inquiri Christianos,” as implying the existence of special laws against the Christians. This passage, however, may merely refer to the general law against unauthorised religions, which Tertullian notices in this very chapter; and Pliny, in his famous letter, does not show any knowledge of the existence of special legislation about the Christians.
828 Ecclesiastical historians maintain, but not on very strong evidence, that the Church of Rome was founded by St. Peter, a.d. 42 or 44. St. Paul came to Rome a.d. 61.
829 On this horrible punishment see Juvenal, Sat. i. 155-157.
830 Lactantius, in the fourth century, speaks of this opinion as still held by some “madmen” (De Mort. Persec. cap. ii.); but Sulp. Severus (Hist. lib. ii.) speaks of it as a common notion, and he says that St. Martin, when asked about the end of the world, answered, “Neronem et Antichristum prius esse venturos: Neronem in occidentali plaga regibus subactis decem, imperaturum, persecutionem autem ab eo hactenus exercendam ut idola gentium coli cogat.”—Dial. ii. Among the Pagans, the notion that Nero was yet alive lingered long, and twenty years after his death an adventurer pretending to be Nero was enthusiastically received by the Parthians (Sueton. Nero, lvii.).
831 See the full description of it in Rossi’s Bulletino d’Archeol. Crist. Dec. 1865. Eusebius (iii. 17) and Tertullian (Apol. v.) have expressly noticed the very remarkable fact that Vespasian, who was a bitter enemy to the Jews, and who exiled all the leading Stoical philosophers except Musonius, never troubled the Christians.
832 See a pathetic letter of Pliny, lib. iii. Ep. xi. and also lib. i. Ep. v. and the Agricola of Tacitus.
833 Euseb. iii. 20.
834 “Præter cæteros Judaicus fiscus acerbissime actus est. Ad quem deferebantur, qui vel improfessi Judaicam intra urbem viverent vitam, vel dissimulata origine imposita genti tributa non pependissent.”—Sueton. Domit. xi. Suetonius adds that, when a young man, he saw an old man of ninety examined before a large assembly to ascertain whether he was circumcised.
835 Euseb. iii. 18.
836 See the accounts of these transactions in Xiphilin, the abbreviator of Dion Cassius (lxvii. 14); Euseb. iii. 17-18. Suetonius notices (Domit. xv.) that Flavius Clemens (whom he calls a man “contemptissimæ inertiæ”) was killed “ex tenuissima suspicione.” The language of Xiphilin, who says he was killed for “impiety and Jewish rites;” the express assertion of Eusebius, that it was for Christianity; and the declaration of Tertullian, that Christians were persecuted at the close of this reign, leave, I think, little doubt that this execution was connected with Christianity, though some writers have questioned it. At the same time, it is very probable, as Mr. Merivale thinks (Hist. of Rome, vol. vii. pp. 381-384), that though the pretext of the execution might have been religious, the real motive was political jealousy. Domitian had already put to death the brother of Flavius Clemens on the charge of treason. His sons had been recognised as successors to the throne, and at the time of his execution another leading noble named Glabrio was accused of having fought in the arena. Some ecclesiastical historians have imagined that there may have been two Domitillas—the wife and niece of Flavius Clemens. The islands of Pontia and Pandataria were close to one another.
837 “Tentaverat et Domitianus, portio Neronis de crudelitate; sed qua et homo facile cœptum repressit, restitutis etiam quos relegaverat.” (Apol. 5.) It will be observed that Tertullian makes no mention of any punishment more severe than exile.
838 Euseb. iii. 20.
839 De Mort. Persec. iii.
840 Xiphilin, lxviii. 1. An annotator to Mosheim conjectures that the edict may have been issued just before the death of the emperor, but not acted on till after it.
841 Euseb. iv. 26. The whole of this apology has been recently recovered, and translated into Latin by M. Renan in the Spicilegium Solesmense.
842 Apol. 5.
843 Lactant. De Mort. Persec. 3-4.
844 Pliny, Ep. x. 97-98.
845 Euseb. lib. iii.
846 There is a description of this earthquake in Merivale’s Hist. of the Romans, vol. viii. pp. 155-156. Orosius (Hist. vii. 12) thought it was a judgment on account of the persecution of the Christians.
847 Eusebius, iv. 8-9. See, too, Justin Martyr, Apol. i. 68-69.
848 This is mentioned incidentally by Lampridius in his Life of A. Severus.
849 See this very curious letter in Vopiscus, Saturninus.
850 Justin Mart. Ap. i. 31. Eusebius quotes a passage from Hegesippus to the same effect. (iv. 8.)
851 “Præcepitque ne cui Judæo introeundi Hierosolymam esset licentia, Christianis tantum civitate permissa.”—Oros. vii. 13.
852 A letter which Eusebius gives at full (iv. 13), and ascribes to Antoninus Pius, has created a good deal of controversy. Justin Mart. (Apol. i. 71) and Tertullian (Apol. 5) ascribe it to Marcus Aurelius. It is now generally believed to be a forgery by a Christian hand, being more like a Christian apology than the letter of a Pagan emperor. St. Melito, however, writing to Marcus Aurelius, expressly states that Antoninus had written a letter forbidding the persecution of Christians. (Euseb. iv. 26.)
853 It is alluded to by Minucius Felix.
854 Eusebius, iv. 16.
855 St. Melito expressly states that the edicts of Marcus Aurelius produced the Asiatic persecution.
856 Eusebius, iv. 15.
857 See the most touching and horrible description of this persecution in a letter written by the Christians of Lyons, in Eusebius, v. 1.
858 Sulpicius Severus (who was himself a Gaul) says of their martyrdom (H. E., lib. ii.), “Tum primum intra Gallias Martyria visa, serius trans Alpes Dei religione suscepta.” Tradition ascribes Gallic Christianity to the apostles, but the evidence of inscriptions appears to confirm the account of Severus. It is at least certain that Christianity did not acquire a great extension till later. The earliest Christian inscriptions found are (one in each year) of a.d. 334, 347, 377, 405, and 409. They do not become common till the middle of the fifth century. See a full discussion of this in the preface of M. Le Blant’s admirable and indeed exhaustive work, Inscriptions Chrétiennes de la Gaule.
859 It was alleged among the Christians, that towards the close of his reign Marcus Aurelius issued an edict protecting the Christians, on account of a Christian legion having, in Germany, in a moment of great distress, procured a shower of rain by their prayers. (Tert. Apol. 5.) The shower is mentioned by Pagan as well as Christian writers, and is portrayed on the column of Antoninus. It was “ascribed to the incantations of an Egyptian magician, to the prayers of a legion of Christians, or to the favour of Jove towards the best of mortals, according to the various prejudices of different observers.”—Merivale’s Hist. of Rome, vol. viii. p. 338.
860 Xiphilin, lxxii. 4. The most atrocious of the Pagan persecutions was attributed, as we shall see, to the mother of Galerius, and in Christian times the Spanish Inquisition was founded by Isabella the Catholic; the massacre of St. Bartholomew was chiefly due to Catherine of Medicis, and the most horrible English persecution to Mary Tudor.
861 Euseb. v. 21. The accuser, we learn from St. Jerome, was a slave. On the law condemning slaves who accused their masters, compare Pressensé, Hist. des Trois premiers Siècles (2me série), tome i. pp. 182-183, and Jeremie’s Church History of Second and Third Centuries, p. 29. Apollonius was of senatorial rank. It is said that some other martyrs died at the same time.
862 “Judæos fieri sub gravi pœna vetuit. Idem etiam de Christianis sanxit.”—Spartian. S. Severus. The persecution is described by Eusebius, lib. vi. Tertullian says Severus was favourable to the Christians, a Christian named Proculus (whom he, in consequence, retained in the palace till his death) having cured him of an illness by the application of oil. (Ad Scapul. 4.)
863 “Of the persecution under Severus there are few, if any, traces in the West. It is confined to Syria, perhaps to Cappadocia, to Egypt, and to Africa, and in the latter provinces appears as the act of hostile governors proceeding upon the existing laws, rather than the consequence of any recent edict of the emperor.”—Milman’s Hist. of Christianity, vol. ii. pp. 156-157.
864 Adv. Cels. iii. See Gibbon, ch. xvi.
865 Eusebius, vi. 28.
866 Lampridius, A. Severus. The historian adds, “Judæis privilegia reservavit. Christianos esse passus est.”
867 Compare Milman’s History of Early Christianity (1867), vol. ii. p. 188, and his History of Latin Christianity (1867), vol. i. pp. 26-59. There are only two cases of alleged martyrdom before this time that can excite any reasonable doubt. Irenæus distinctly asserts that Telesphorus was martyred; but his martyrdom is put in the beginning of the reign of Antoninus Pius (he had assumed the mitre near the end of the reign of Hadrian), and Antoninus is represented, by the general voice of the Church, as perfectly free from the stain of persecution. A tradition, which is in itself sufficiently probable, states that Pontianus, having been exiled by Maximinus, was killed in banishment.
868 Tacitus has a very ingenious remark on this subject, which illustrates happily the half-scepticism of the Empire. After recounting a number of prodigies that were said to have taken place in the reign of Otho, he remarks that these were things habitually noticed in the ages of ignorance, but now only noticed in periods of terror. “Rudibus sæculis etiam in pace observata, quæ nunc tantum in metu audiuntur.”—Hist. i. 86.
869 M. de Champagny has devoted an extremely beautiful chapter (Les Antonins, tome ii. pp. 179-200) to the liberty of the Roman Empire. See, too, the fifty-fourth chapter of Mr. Merivale’s History. It is the custom of some of the apologists for modern Cæsarism to defend it by pointing to the Roman Empire as the happiest period in human history. No apology can be more unfortunate. The first task of a modern despot is to centralise to the highest point, to bring every department of thought and action under a system of police regulation, and, above all, to impose his shackling tyranny upon the human mind. The very perfection of the Roman Empire was, that the municipal and personal liberty it admitted had never been surpassed, and the intellectual liberty had never been equalled.
870 Sueton. Aug. xxxi. It appears from a passage in Livy (xxxix. 16) that books of oracles had been sometimes burnt in the Republic.
871 Tacitus has given us a very remarkable account of the trial of Cremutius Cordus, under Tiberius, for having published a history in which he had praised Brutus and called Cassius the last of Romans. (Annal. iv. 34-35.) He expressly terms this “novo ac tunc primum audito crimine,” and he puts a speech in the mouth of the accused, describing the liberty previously accorded to writers. Cordus avoided execution by suicide. His daughter, Marcia, preserved some copies of his work, and published it in the reign and with the approbation of Caligula. (Senec. Ad. Marc. 1; Suet. Calig. 16.) There are, however, some traces of an earlier persecution of letters. Under the sanction of a law of the decemvirs against libellers, Augustus exiled the satiric writer Cassius Severus, and he also destroyed the works of an historian named Labienus, on account of their seditious sentiments. These writings were re-published with those of Cordus. Generally, however, Augustus was very magnanimous in his dealings with his assailants. He refused the request of Tiberius to punish them (Suet. Aug. 51), and only excluded from his palace Timagenes, who bitterly satirised both him and the empress, and proclaimed himself everywhere the enemy of the emperor. (Senec. De Ira, iii. 23.) A similar magnanimity was shown by most of the other emperors; among others, by Nero. (Suet. Nero, 39.) Under Vespasian, however, a poet, named Maternus, was obliged to retouch a tragedy on Cato (Tacit. De Or. 2-3), and Domitian allowed no writings opposed to his policy. (Tacit. Agric.) But no attempt appears to have been made in the Empire to control religious writings till the persecution of Diocletian, who ordered the Scriptures to be burnt. The example was speedily followed by the Christian emperors. The writings of Arius were burnt in a.d. 321, those of Porphyry in a.d. 388. Pope Gelasius, in a.d. 496, drew up a list of books which should not be read, and all liberty of publication speedily became extinct. See on this subject Peignot, Essai historique sur la Liberté d’Écrire; Villemain, Études de Littèr. ancienne; Sir C. Lewis on the Credibility of Roman Hist. vol. i. p. 52; Nadal, Mémoire sur la liberté qu’avoient les soldats romains de dire des vers satyriques contre ceux qui triomphoient (Paris 1725).
872 See a collection of passages on this point in Pressensé, Hist. des Trois premiers Siècles (2me série), tome i. pp. 3-4.
873 Trypho.
874 Apol. xxxvii.
875 Euseb. vi. 43.
876 Eusebius, it is true, ascribes this persecution (vi. 39) to the hatred Decius bore to his predecessor Philip, who was very friendly to the Christians. But although such a motive might account for a persecution like that of Maximin, which was directed chiefly against the bishops who had been about the Court of Severus, it is insufficient to account for a persecution so general and so severe as that of Decius. It is remarkable that this emperor is uniformly represented by the Pagan historians as an eminently wise and humane sovereign. See Dodwell, De Paucitate Martyrum, lii.
877 St. Cyprian (Ep. vii.) and, at a later period, St. Jerome (Vit. Pauli), both notice that during this persecution the desire of the persecutors was to subdue the constancy of the Christians by torture, without gratifying their desire for martyrdom. The consignment of Christian virgins to houses of ill fame was one of the most common incidents in the later acts of martyrs which were invented in the middle ages. Unhappily, however, it must be acknowledged that there are some undoubted traces of it at an earlier date. Tertullian, in a famous passage, speaks of the cry “Ad Lenonem” as substituted for that of “Ad Leonem;” and St. Ambrose recounts some strange stories on this subject in his treatise De Virginibus.
878 St. Cyprian has drawn a very highly coloured picture of this general corruption, and of the apostasy it produced, in his treatise De Lapsis, a most interesting picture of the society of his time. See, too, the Life of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus, by Greg. of Nyssa.
879 “La persécution de Dèce ne dura qu’environ un an dans sa grande violence. Car S. Cyprien, dans les lettres écrites en 251, dès devant Pasque, et mesme dans quelques-unes écrites apparemment dès la fin de 250, témoigne que son église jouissoit déjà de quelque paix, mais d’une paix encore peu affermie, en sorte que le moindre accident eust pu renouveler le trouble et la persécution. Il semble mesme que l’on n’eust pas encore la liberté d’y tenir les assemblées, et néanmoins il paroist que tous les confesseurs prisonniers à Carthage y avoient esté mis en liberté dès ce temps-là.”—Tillemont, Mém. d’Hist. ecclésiastique, tome iii. p. 324.
880 Dionysius the bishop wrote a full account of it, which Eusebius has preserved (vi. 41-42). In Alexandria, Dionysius says, the persecution produced by popular fanaticism preceded the edict of Decius by an entire year. He has preserved a particular catalogue of all who were put to death in Alexandria during the entire Decian persecution. They were seventeen persons. Several of these were killed by the mob, and their deaths were in nearly all cases accompanied by circumstances of extreme atrocity. Besides these, others (we know not how many) had been put to torture. Many, Dionysius says, perished in other cities or villages of Egypt.
881 See St. Cyprian, Ep. viii.
882 There was much controversy at this time as to the propriety of bishops evading persecution by flight. The Montanists maintained that such a conduct was equivalent to apostasy. Tertullian had written a book, De Fuga in Persecutione, maintaining this view; and among the orthodox the conduct of St. Cyprian (who afterwards nobly attested his courage by his death) did not escape animadversion. The more moderate opinion prevailed, but the leading bishops found it necessary to support their conduct by declaring that they had received special revelations exhorting them to fly. St. Cyprian, who constantly appealed to his dreams to justify him in his controversies (see some curious instances collected in Middleton’s Free Enquiry, pp. 101-105), declared (Ep. ix.), and his biographer and friend Pontius re-asserted (Vit. Cyprianis), that his flight was “by the command of God.” Dionysius, the Bishop of Alexandria, asserts the same thing of his own flight, and attests it by an oath (see his own words in Euseb. vi. 40); and the same thing was afterwards related of St. Gregory Thaumaturgus. (See his Life by Gregory of Nyssa.)
883 “E veramente che almeno fino dal secolo terzo i fedeli abbiano posseduto cimiteri a nome commune, e che il loro possesso sia stato riconosciuto dagl’ imperatori, è cosa impossibile a negare.”—Rossi, Roma Sotterranea, tomo i. p. 103.
884 This is all fully discussed by Rossi, Roma Sotterranea, tomo i. pp. 101-108. Rossi thinks the Church, in its capacity of burial society, was known by the name of “ecclesia fratrum.”
885 See, on the history of early Christian Churches, Cave’s Primitive Christianity, part i. c. vi.
886 Dodwell (De Paucit. Martyr. lvii.) has collected evidence of the subsidence of the persecution in the last year of the reign of Decius.
887 This persecution is not noticed by St. Jerome, Orosius, Sulpicius Severus, or Lactantius. The very little we know about it is derived from the letters of St. Cyprian, and from a short notice by Dionysius of Alexandria, in Eusebius, vii. 1. Dionysius says, Gallus began the persecution when his reign was advancing prosperously, and his affairs succeeding, which probably means, after he had procured the departure of the Goths from the Illyrian province, early in a.d. 252 (see Gibbon, chap. x.). The disastrous position into which affairs had been thrown by the defeat of Decius appears, at first, to have engrossed his attention.
888 Lucius was at first exiled and then permitted to return, on which occasion St. Cyprian wrote him a letter of congratulation (Ep. lvii.). He was, however, afterwards re-arrested and slain, but it is not, I think, clear whether it was under Gallus or Valerian. St. Cyprian speaks (Ep. lxvi.) of both Cornelius and Lucius as martyred. The emperors were probably at this time beginning to realise the power the Bishops of Rome possessed. We know hardly anything of the Decian persecution at Rome except the execution of the bishop; and St. Cyprian says (Ep. li.) that Decius would have preferred a pretender to the throne to a Bishop of Rome.
889 Dionysius, Archbishop of Alexandria; see Euseb. vii. 10.
890 Eusebius, vii. 10-12; Cyprian, Ep. lxxxi. Lactantius says of Valerian, “Multum quamvis brevi tempore justi sanguinis fudit.”—De Mort. Persec. c. v.
891 Cyprian. Ep. lxxxi.
892 See his Life by the deacon Pontius, which is reproduced by Gibbon.
893 Eusebius, vii. 13.
894 Tertullian had before, in a curious passage, spoken of the impossibility of Christian Cæsars. “Sed et Cæsares credidissent super Christo si aut Cæsares non essent seculo necessarii, aut si et Christiani potuissent esse Cæsares.”—Apol. xxi.
895 Contra Demetrianum.
896 Eusebius, vii. 30. Aurelian decided that the cathedral at Antioch should be given up to whoever was appointed by the bishops of Italy.
897 Compare the accounts in Eusebius, vii. 30, and Lactantius, De Mort. c. vi.
898 See the forcible and very candid description of Eusebius, viii. 1.
899 This is noticed by Optatus.
900 See the vivid pictures in Lact. De Mort. Persec.
901 Lactant. De Mort. Persec. 15.
902 Eusebius, viii.
903 These incidents are noticed by Eusebius in his History, and in his Life of Constantine, and by Lactantius, De Mort. Persec.
904 “Italy, Sicily, Gaul, and whatever parts extend towards the West,—Spain, Mauritania, and Africa.”—Euseb. Mart. Palest. ch. xiii. But in Gaul, as I have said, the persecution had not extended beyond the destruction of churches; in these provinces the persecution, Eusebius says, lasted not quite two years.
905 The history of this persecution is given by Eusebius, Hist. lib. viii., in his work on the Martyrs of Palestine, and in Lactantius, De Mort. Persec. The persecution in Palestine was not quite continuous: in a.d. 308 it had almost ceased; it then revived fiercely, but at the close of a.d. 309, and in the beginning of a.d. 310, there was again a short lull, apparently due to political causes. See Mosheim, Eccles. Hist. (edited by Soames), vol. i. pp. 286-287.
906 Eusebius.
907 See two passages, which Gibbon justly calls remarkable. (H. E. viii. 2; Martyrs of Palest. ch. xii.)
908 There is one instance of a wholesale massacre which appears to rest on good authority. Eusebius asserts that, during the Diocletian persecution, a village in Phrygia, the name of which he does not mention, being inhabited entirely by Christians who refused to sacrifice, was attacked and burnt with all that were in it by the Pagan soldiery. Lactantius (Inst. Div. v. 11) confines the conflagration to a church in which the entire population was burnt; and an early Latin translation of Eusebius states that the people were first summoned to withdraw, but refused to do so. Gibbon (ch. xvi.) thinks that this tragedy took place when the decree of Diocletian ordered the destruction of the churches.
909 Mariana (De Rebus Hispaniæ, xxiv. 17). Llorente thought this number perished in the single year 1482; but the expressions of Mariana, though he speaks of “this beginning,” do not necessarily imply this restriction. Besides these martyrs, 17,000 persons in Spain recanted, and endured punishments less than death, while great numbers fled. There does not appear to have been, in this case, either the provocation or the political danger which stimulated the Diocletian persecution.
910 This is according to the calculation of Sarpi. Grotius estimates the victims at 100,000.—Gibbon, ch. xvi.
911 See some curious information on this in Ticknor’s Hist. of Spanish Literature (3rd American edition), vol. iii. pp. 236-237.
912 This was the case in the persecutions at Lyons and Smyrna, under Marcus Aurelius. In the Diocletian persecution at Alexandria the populace were allowed to torture the Christians as they pleased. (Eusebius, viii. 10.)