Chapter II: Part 2

“No war or battle sound,
Was heard the world around;
The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hooked chariot stood,
Unstained with hostile blood,
The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
And kings sat still with awful eye,
As if they surely knew their sovran lord was by.”

The efforts of the conquerors did not cease with the mere military subjugation of a country, but were extended far beyond the extinction of the hostile force. The Roman soldier was not a mere fighter, nor were his labors, out of the conflict, confined to the erection of military works only. The stern discipline, which made his arms triumphant in the day of battle, had also taught him cheerfully to exchange those triumphant arms for the tools of peaceful labor, that he might insure the solid permanency of his conquests, by the perfection of such works as would make tranquillity desirable to the conquered, and soothe them to repose under a dominion which so effectually secured their good. Roads, that have made Roman _ways_ proverbial, and which the perfection of modern art has never equaled in more than one or two instances, reached from the capital to the farthest bounds of the empire. Seas, long dangerous and almost impassable for the trader and enterprising voyager, were swept of every piratical vessel; and the most distant channels of the Aegean and Levant, where the corsair long ruled triumphant, both before and since, became as safe as the porches of the capitol. Regions, to which nature had furnished the indispensable gift of water, neither in abundance nor purity, were soon blessed with artificial rivers, flowing over mighty arches, that will crumble only with the pyramids. In the dry places of Africa and Asia, as well as in distant Gaul, mighty aqueducts and gushing fountains refreshed the feverish traveler, and gave reality to the poetical prophecy, that

“In the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams
in the desert.”

_Roads._――I was at first disposed to make some few exceptions to
this sweeping commendation of the excellence of Roman roads, by
referring simply to my general impressions of the comparative
perfection of these and modern works of the same character;
but on revising the facts by an examination of authorities, I
have been led to strike out the exceptions. Napoleon’s great
road over the Simplon, the great northern road from London to
Edinburgh, and some similar works in Austria, seemed, before
comparison, in extent, durability, and in their triumphs over
nature, to equal, if not surpass, the famed Roman WAYS; but a
reference to the minute descriptions of these mighty works, sets
the ancient far above the modern art. The Via Appia, “_regina
viarum_,” (_Papinius Statius in Surrentino Pollii_,) stretching
three hundred and seventy miles from Rome to the bounds of Italy,
built of squared stone, as hard as flints, and brought from
a great distance, so laid together that for miles they seemed
but a single stone, and so solidly fixed, that at this day, the
road is as entire in many places as when first made,――the Via
Flaminia, built in the same solid manner,――the Via Aemilia, five
hundred and twenty-seven miles long,――the Via Portuensis, with
its enormous double cause-way,――the vaulted roads of Puzzuoli
and Baiae, hewn half a league through the solid rock, and the
thousand remains of similar and contemporaneous works in various
parts of the world, where some are in use even to this day, as
far better than any modern highway,――all these are enough to
show the inquirer, that the commendation given to these works in
the text, is not over-wrought nor unmerited. The minute details
of the construction of these extraordinary works, with many
other interesting particulars, may be much more fully learned in
Rees’s Cyclopædia, Articles _Way_, _Via_, _Road_, _Appian_, &c.

_Aqueducts._――The common authorities on this subject, refer to
none of these mighty Roman works, except those around the city
of Rome itself. Those of Nismes and Metz, in Gaul, and that of
Segovia, in Spain, are sometimes mentioned; but the reader would
be led to suppose, that other portions of the Roman empire were
not blessed with these noble works. Rees’s Cyclopædia is very
full on this head, in respect to the aqueducts of the great
city itself, but conveys the impression that they were not known
in many distant parts of the empire. Montfaucon gives no more
satisfactory information on the subject. But a reference to
books of travels or topography, which describe the remains of
Roman art in its ancient provinces in Africa and Asia, will
at once give a vivid impression of the extent and frequency of
these works. Shaw’s travels in northern Africa, give accounts
of aqueducts, cisterns, fountains, and reservoirs, along through
all the ancient Roman dominions in that region. The Modern
Traveler (by Conder) will give abundant accounts of the remains
of these works, in this and various other countries alluded to
in the text; and some of them, still so perfect, as to serve the
common uses of the inhabitants to this day.

All these mighty influences, working for the peace and comfort of mankind, and so favorable to the spread of religious knowledge, had been further secured by the triumphant and firm establishment of the throne of the Caesars. Under the fitful sway of the capricious democracy of Rome, conquest had indeed steadily stretched east, west, north and south, alike over barbarian and Greek, through the wilderness and the city. A long line of illustrious consuls, such as Marcellus, the Scipios, Aemilius, Marius, Sylla, Lucullus and Pompey, had, during the last two centuries of the republic, added triumph to triumph, in bright succession, thronging the streets of the seven-hilled city with captive kings, and more than quadrupling her dominion. But while the corruption of conquest was fast preparing the dissipated people to make a willing exchange of their political privileges, for “bread and amusements;” the enlightened portion of the citizens were getting tired of the distracting and often bloody changes of popular favoritism, and were ready to receive as a welcome deliverer, any man who could give them a calm and rational despotism, in place of the remorseless and ferocious tyranny of a brutal mob. In this turn of the world’s destiny, there arose one, in all points equal to the task of sealing both justice and peace to the vanquished nations, by wringing from the hands of a haughty people, the same political power which they had caused so many to give up to their unsparing gripe. He was one who, while, to common eyes, he seemed devoting the flower of his youth and the strength of his manhood to idleness and debauchery, was learning such wisdom as could never have been learned in the lessons of the sage,――wisdom in the characters, the capabilities, the corruption and venality of his plebeian sovrans. And yet he was not one who scorned the lessons of the learned, nor turned away from the records of others’ knowledge. In the schools of Rhodes, he sat a patient student of the art and science of the orator, and searched deeply into the stored treasures of Grecian philosophy. Resplendent in arms as in arts, he devoted to swift and deserved destruction the pirates of the Aegean, while yet only a raw student; and with the same energy and rapidity, in Rome, attained the peaceful triumphs of the eloquence which had so long been his study. The flight of years passed over him, alike victorious in the factious strife of the capital, and in the deadly struggle with the Celtic savages of North-western Europe. Ruling long-conquered Spain in peace, and subjugating still barbarous Gaul, he showed the same ascendent genius which made the greatest minds of Rome his willing and despised tools, and crushed them when they at last dreamed of independence or resistance. In the art military, supreme and unconquered, whether met by the desperate savage of the forest or desert, or by the veteran legions of republican Rome,――in the arts of intrigue, more than a match for the subtlest deceivers of a jealous democracy,――as an orator, winning the hearts and turning the thoughts of those who were the hearers of Cicero,――as a writer, unmatched even in that Ciceronian age, for strength and flowing ease, though writing in a camp, amid the fatigues of a savage warfare,――in all the accomplishments that adorn and soften, and in all the manly exercises that ennoble and strengthen, alike complete,――in battle, in storm, on the ocean and on land, in the collected fury of the charge, and the sudden shock of the surprise, always dauntless and cool, showing a courage never shaken, though so often tried,――to his friends kind and generous,――to his vanquished foes, without exception, merciful and forgiving,――beloved by the former, respected by the latter, and adored by the people,――a scholar, an astronomer, a poet, a wit, a gallant, an orator, a statesman, a warrior, a governor, a monarch,――his vast and various attainments, so wonderful in that wonderful age, have secured to him, from the great of his own and all following ages, the undeniable name of THE MOST PERFECT CHARACTER OF ALL ANTIQUITY. Such a man was CAIUS JULIUS CAESAR. He saved the people from themselves; he freed them from their own tyranny, and ended forever, in Rome, the power of the populace to meddle with the disposal of the great interests of the consolidated nations of the empire. It was necessary that it should be so. The empire was too vast for an ignorant and stupid democracy to govern. The safety and comfort of the world required a better rule; and never was any man, in the course of Providence, more wonderfully prepared as the instrument of a mighty work, than was Julius Caesar, as the founder of a power which was to last till the fall of Rome. For the accomplishment of this wonderful purpose, every one of his countless excellences seems to have done something; and nothing less than he, could have thus achieved a task, which prepared the way for the advance of a power, that was to outlast his throne and the Eternal city. Under the controlling influence of his genius, the world was so calmed, subjugated and arranged, that the gates of all nations were opened for the peaceful entrance of the preachers of the gospel. So solidly did he lay the foundation of his dominion, that even his own murder, by the objects of his undeserved clemency, made not the slightest change in the fate of Rome; for the paltry intrigues and fights of a few years ended in placing the power, which Caesar had won, in the hands of his heir and namesake, whose most glorious triumphs were but straws on the mighty stream of events, which Julius had set in motion.

_Caesar._――Those who are accustomed merely to the common cant
of many would-be philanthropists, about the destruction of
the liberties of Rome, and the bloody-minded atrocity of their
destroyer, will doubtless feel shocked at the favorable view
taken of his character, above. The truth is, there was no
liberty in Rome for Caesar to destroy; the question of political
freedom having been long before settled in the triumphant
ascendency of faction, the only choice was between one tyrant
and ten thousand. No one can question that Caesar was the fair
choice of the great mass of the people. They were always on
his side, in opposition to the aristocracy, who sought his ruin
because they considered him dangerous to their privileges, and
_their_ liberty (to tyrannize;) and their fears were grounded on
the very circumstance that the vast majority of the people were
for him. This was the condition of parties until Caesar’s death,
and long after, to the time of the final triumph of Octavius.
Not one of Caesar’s friends among the people ever became his
enemy, or considered him as having betrayed their affection by
his assumptions of power. Those who murdered him, and plunged
the world from a happy, universal peace, into the devastating
horrors of a wide spread and protracted civil war, were not
the patriotic avengers of an oppressed people; they were the
jealous supporters of a haughty aristocracy, who saw their
powers and dignity diminished, in being shared with vast numbers
of the lower orders, added to the senate by Caesar, whose steady
determination to humble them they saw in his refusal to pay
them homage by rising, when the hereditary aristocracy of Rome
took their seats in senate. It was to redeem the failing powers
of their privileged order, that these aristocratic assassins
murdered the man, whose mercy had triumphed over his prudence,
in sparing the forfeited lives of these hereditary, dangerous
foes of popular rights. Nor could they for a moment blind the
people to the nature and object of their action; for as soon as
the murder had been committed, the universal cry for justice,
which rose at once from the whole mass of the people, indignant
at the butchery of their friend, drove the gang of conspirators
from Rome and from Italy, which they were never permitted again
to enter. Those who thronged to the standards of the heir and
friend of Caesar, were the hosts of democracy, who never rested
till they had crushed and exterminated the miserable faction
of aristocrats, who had hoped to triumph over the mass of the
people, by the death of the people’s great friend. Now if the
people of Rome chose to give up their whole power, and the
disposal of their political affairs, into the hands of a great,
a talented, a generous and heroic man, like Caesar, who had so
effectually vindicated and secured their freedom against the
claims of a domineering aristocracy, and if they afterwards
remained so well satisfied with the use which he made of
this power, as never to make the slightest effort, nor on any
occasion to express the least wish, to resume it, I would like
to know who had any business to hinder the sovran people from so
doing, or what blame can in any way be laid to Caesar’s charge,
for accepting, and for nobly and generously using the power so
freely and heartily given up to him.

The protracted detail of his mental and physical greatness,
given in the sketch of his character above, would need for its
full defense and illustration, the mention of such numerous
particulars, that I must be content with challenging any doubter,
to a reference to the record of the actions of his life, and
such a reference will abundantly confirm every particular of the
description. The steady and unanimous decision of the learned
and the truly great of different ages, since his time, is enough
to show his solid claims to the highest praise here given.
Passing over the glory so uniformly yielded to him by the
learned and eloquent of ancient days, we have among moderns the
disinterested opinions of such men as the immortal Lord Verulam,
from whom came the sentence given above, pronouncing him “the
most perfect character of all antiquity;” a sentiment which,
probably, no man of minute historical knowledge ever read,
without a hearty acquiescence. This opinion has been quoted with
approbation by our own greatest statesman, Alexander Hamilton,
than whom none knew better how to appreciate real greatness.
Lord Byron (Note 47 on Canto IV. of Childe Harold,) also quotes
this sentence approvingly, and in the same passage gives a
most interesting view of Caesar’s versatile genius and varied
accomplishments, entering more fully into some particulars than
that here given. The sentence of the Roman historian, Suetonius,
(_Jure_ caesus existimetur,) seems to me to refer, not to
the moral fitness or actual _right_ of his murder, but to
the common law or ancient usage of Rome, by which any person
of great influence, who was considered powerful enough to be
dangerous to the ascendency of the patrician rank, or to the
established order of things in any way, might be killed by
any self-constituted executioner, even though the person thus
murdered on bare suspicion of a liability to become dangerous,
should really be innocent of the charge of aspiring to supreme
power. (“Melium _jure_ caesum pronuntiavit, _etiam si regni
crimine insons fuerit_.” Livy book iv. chapter 48.) The idea,
that such an abominable outrage on the claim of an innocent man
to his own life, could ever be seriously defended as morally
_right_, is too palpably preposterous to bear a consideration.
Such a principle of policy must have originated in a
republicanism, somewhat similar to that which sanctions those
exertions of democratic power, which have lately become famous
under the name of Lynch law. It was a principle which in Rome
enabled the patrician order to secure the destruction of any
popular man of genius and intelligence, who, being able, might
become willing to effect a revolution which would humble the
power of the patrician aristocracy. The murder of the Gracchi,
also, may be taken as a fair manifestation of the way in which
the aristocracy were disposed to check the spirit of reform.

The work of Caesar, then, was twofold, like the tyranny which
he was to subvert; and well did he achieve both objects of his
mighty efforts. Having first brought down the pride and the
power of an overbearing aristocracy, he next, by the force
of the same dominant genius, wrested the ill-wielded dominion
from the unsteady hands of the fickle democracy, making
them willingly subservient to the great purpose of their own
subjugation, and acquiescent in the generous sway of one, whom
a sort of political instinct taught them to fix on, as the man
destined to rule them.

Thus were the complicated and contradictory principles of Roman
government exchanged for the simplicity of monarchical rule;
an exchange most desirable for the peace and security of the
subjects of the government. The empire was no longer shaken
with the constant vacillations of supremacy from the aristocracy
to the democracy, and from the democracy to the demagogues,
alternately their tyrants and their slaves. The solitary tyranny
of an emperor was occasionally found terrible in some of its
details, but the worst of these could never outgo the republican
cruelties of Marius and Sylla, and there was, at least, this one
advantage on the side of those suffering under the monarchical
tyranny, which would not be available in the case of the victims
of mob-despotism. This was the ease with which a single stroke
with a well-aimed dagger could remove the evil at once, and
secure some chance of a change for the better, as was the case
with Caligula, Nero, and Domitian; and though the advantages of
the change were much more manifest in the two latter cases than
in the former, yet, even in that, the relief experienced was
worth the effort. But a whole tyrannical populace could not be
so easily and summarily disposed of; and those who suffered by
such despotism, could only wait till the horrible butcheries of
civil strife, or the wasting carnage of foreign warfare, had
used up the energies and the superfluous blood of the populace,
and swept the flower of the democracy, by legions, to a wide and
quiet grave. The remedy of the evil was therefore much slower,
and more undesirable in its operation, in this case, than in the
other; while the evil itself was actually more widely injurious.
For, on the one hand, what imperial tyrant ever sacrificed so
many victims in Rome, or produced such wide-wasting ruin, as
either of those republican chiefs, Marius and Sylla? And on the
other hand, when, in the most glorious and peaceful days of the
aristocratic or democratic sway, did military glory, literature,
science, art, commerce, and the whole common weal, so flourish
and advance, as under the imperial Augustus, the sage Vespasian
and the amiable Titus, the heroic Trajan, the polished Adrian,
or the wise and philosophic Antonines? Never did Rome wear
the aspect of a truly majestic city, till the imperial pride
of her long line of Caesars had filled her with the temples,
amphitheaters, circuses, aqueducts, baths, triumphal columns
and arches, which to this day perpetuate the solid glory of the
founders, and make her the wonder of the world, while not one
surviving great work of art claims a republican for its author.

To such a glory did the Caesars raise her, and from such a
splendor did she fade, as now.

“Such is the moral of all human tales;
’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past,――
First freedom, and then glory――when that fails,
Wealth, vice, corruption,――barbarism at last,
And history, with all her volumes vast,
Hath but one page.”

An allusion to such a man, in such a book as this, could not be justified, but on this satisfactory ground;――that the changes which he wrought in the Roman government, and the conquests by which he spread and secured the influence of Roman civilization, seem to have done more than any other political action could do, to effect the general diffusion, and the perpetuity of the Christian faith. A glance at these great events, in this light, will show to us the first imperial Caesar, as Christ’s most mighty precursor, unwittingly preparing the way for the advance of the Messiah,――a bloody and all-crushing warrior, opening the path for the equally resistless triumphs of the Prince of Peace. Even this striking characteristic, of cool and unscrupulous ambition, became a most glorious means for the production of this strange result. This same moral obtuseness, too, about the right of conquest, so heinous in the light of modern ethics, but so blameless, and even praise-worthy in the eyes of the good and great of Caesar’s days, shows us how low was the world’s standard of right before the coming of Christ; and yet this insensibility became, in the hands of the God who causes the wrath of man to praise him, a doubly powerful means of spreading that faith, whose essence is love to man.

Look over the world, then, as it was before the Roman conquest, and see the difficulties, both physical and moral, that would have attended the universal diffusion of a new and peaceful religious faith. Barbarous nations, all over the three continents, warring with each other, and with the failing outworks of civilization,――besotted tyranny, wearing out the energies of its subjects, by selfish and all-grasping folly,――sea and land swarming with marauders, and every wheel of science and commerce rolling backward or breaking down. Such was the seemingly resistless course of events, when the star of Roman fortune rose on the world, under whose influence, at once destructive and benign, the advancing hosts of barbarity were checked and overthrown, and their triumphs stayed for five hundred years; the elegance of Grecian refinement was transplanted from the unworthy land of its birth, to Italian soil, and the most ancient tracks of commerce, as well as many new ones, were made as safe as they are at this peaceful day. The mighty Caesar, last of all, casting down all thrones but his, and laying the deep basis of its lasting dominion in the solid good of millions, filled up the valleys, leveled the mountains, and smoothed the plains, for the march of that monarch, whose kingdom is without end.

The connection of such a political change with the success of the Christian enterprise, and with the perfect development and triumph of our peaceful faith, depends on the simple truth, that Christianity always flourishes best in the most highly civilized communities, and can never be so developed as to do full justice to its capabilities, in any state of society, short of the highest point of civilization. It never has been received, and held uncorrupt, by mere savages or wanderers; and it never can be. Thus and therefore it was, that wherever Roman conquest spread, and secured the lasting triumphs of civilization, thither Christianity followed, and flourished, as on a congenial soil, till at last not one land was left in the whole empire, where the eagle and the dove did not spread their wings in harmonious triumph. In all these lands, where Roman civilization prepared the way, Christian churches rose, and gathered within them the noble and the refined, as well as the humble and the poor. Spain, Gaul, Britain and Africa, as well as the ancient homes of knowledge, Egypt, Greece and Asia, are instances of this kind. And in every one of these, the reign of the true faith became coeval with civilization, yielding in some instances, it is true, on the advance of modern barbarism, but only when the Arabian prophet made them bow before his sword. Yet while within the pale of Roman conquest, Christianity supplanted polytheism, beyond that wide circle, heathenism remained long undisturbed, till the victorious march of the barbarian conquerors, over the empire of the Caesars, secured the extension of the gospel to them also;――the vanquished, in one sense, triumphing in turn over the victors, by making them the submissive subjects of Roman civilization, language, and religion;――so that, for the first five hundred years of the Christian era, the dominion of the Caesars was the most efficient earthly instrument for the extension of the faith. The persecution which the followers of the new faith occasionally suffered, were the results of aberrations from the general principles of tolerance, which characterized the religious policy of the empire; and after a few such acts of insane cruelty, the natural course of reaction brought the persecuted religion into fast increasing and finally universal favor.

If the religion, thus widely and lastingly diffused, was corrupted from the simplicity of the truth as it was in Jesus, this corruption is to be charged, not against the Romans, but against the unworthy successors of the apostles and ancient fathers, who sought to make the severe beauty of the naked truth more acceptable to the heathenish fancies of the people, by robing it in the borrowed finery of mythology. Yet, though thus humiliated in its triumph, the victory of Christianity over that complex and dazzling religion, was most complete. The faith to which Italians and Greeks had been devoted for ages,――which had drawn its first and noblest principles from the mysterious sources of the antique Etruscan, Egyptian and Phoenician, and had enriched its dark and boundless plan with all that the varied superstitions of every conquered people could furnish,――the faith which had rooted itself so deeply in the poetry, the patriotism, and the language of the Roman, and had so twined itself with every scene of his nation’s glory, from the days of Romulus,――now gave way before the simple word of the carpenter of Nazareth, and was so torn up and swept away from its strong holds, that the very places which through twenty generations its triumphs had hallowed, were now turned into shrines for the worship of the God of despised Judah. So utterly was the Olympian Jove unseated, and cast down from his long-dreaded throne, that his name passed away forever from the worship of mankind, and has never been recalled, but with contempt. He, and all his motley train of gods and goddesses, are remembered no more with reverence, but vanishing from even the knowledge of the mass of the people, are

“Gone glimmering through the dream of things that were,”――
“A school-boy’s tale.”

Every ancient device for the perpetuation of the long established faith, disappeared in the advancing light of the gospel. Temples, statues, oracles, festivals, and all the solemn paraphernalia of superstition, were swept to oblivion, or, changing their names only, were made the instruments of recommending the new faith to the eyes of the common people. But, however the pliant spirit of the degenerate successors of the early fathers might bend to the vulgar superstitions of the day, the establishment of the Christian religion, upon the ruins of Roman heathenism, was effected with a completeness that left not a name to live behind them, nor the vestige of a form, to keep alive in the minds of the people, the memory of the ancient religion. The words applied by our great poet to the time of Christ’s birth, have something more than poetical force, as a description of the absolute extermination of these superstitions, both public and domestic, on the final triumph of Christianity:

“The oracles are dumb;
No voice or hideous hum
Rolls through the arched roof in words deceiving.
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving.
No nightly trance or breathed spell,
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.”

* * * * *

“In consecrated earth
And on the holy hearth,
The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint;
In urns and altars round,
A drear and dying sound,
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
While each peculiar power foregoes his wonted seat.”

Thus were the mighty labors of human ambition made subservient to the still greater achievements of divine benevolence; thus did the unholy triumphs of the hosts of heathenism become, in the hands of the All-wise, the surest means of spreading the holy and peace-making truths of Christianity, to the ends of the earth,――otherwise unapproachable without a miracle. The dominion which thus grew upon and over the vast empire of Rome, though growing with her growth and strengthening with her strength, sunk not with her weakness, but, stretching abroad fresh branches, whose leaves were for the healing of nations then unknown, showed its divine origin by its immortality; while, alas! its human modifications betrayed themselves in its diminished grace and ill-preserved symmetry. Yet in spite of these, rather than by means of them, it rose still mightier above the ruins of the empire, under whose shadow it had grown, till, at last, supplanting Roman and Goth alike, it fixed its roots on the seven hills of the Eternal city; where, thenceforth, for hundreds of years, the head of Christendom, ruling with a power more absolute than her imperial sway, saw more than the Roman world beneath him. Even to this day, vast and countless “regions, Caesar never knew,” own him of Rome as “the center of unity;” and lands

“farther west
Than the Greek’s islands of the blest,”

and farther east than the long unpassed bounds of Roman conquest, turn, with an adoration and awe immeasurably greater than the most exalted of the apotheosized Caesars ever received, to him who claims the name of the successor of the poor fisherman of Galilee.

* * * * *

Such, and so vast, was the revolution, to the achievement of which, the lives and deeds of the apostles most essentially contributed,――a revolution which, even if looked on as the result of mere human effort, must appear the most wonderful ever effected by such humble human means, as these narratives will show to have been used. The character of the men first chosen by the founder of the faith, as the instruments of spreading the lasting conquests of his gospel,――their birth, their country, their provincial peculiarities,――all marked them as most unlikely persons to undertake the overthrow of the religious prejudices even of their own countrymen; and still less groundless must have been the hope that any of Jewish race, however well taught in the wisdom of the world, could so far overcome the universal feeling of dislike, with which this peculiar nation were regarded, as to bring the learned, the powerful and the great of Rome and Greece, and of Eastern lands, to own a low-born Galilean workman as their guide to truth,――the author of their hopes of life eternal. Yet went they forth even to this task, whose achievement was so far beyond the range of human hopes; and with a zeal as far above the inspiration of human ambition, they gave their energies and their lives to this desperate commission. Without a hope of an earthly triumph or an earthly reward,――without even a prospect of a peaceful death or an honored grave, while they lived, they spent their strength fearlessly for him who SENT them forth; and when they died, their last breath went out in triumph at the near prospect of their lasting gain.

In giving the lives of these men, many incidents will require notice, in which no individual apostle was concerned alone, but the whole company to which he belonged. In each class of the apostles, these incidents will be given under the head of the principal person in that class, whose life is placed before the rest. Thus, those matters in which all the twelve had a common interest, and in which no particular apostle is named, will find a place in the life of Peter, their great leader; and among the later apostles, the distinct pre-eminence of Paul will, of course, cause all matters of common interest to be absorbed in his life, while of his companions nothing farther need be recorded, than those things which immediately concern them.

I. THE GALILEAN APOSTLES.

SIMON CEPHAS,
COMMONLY CALLED SIMON PETER.

HIS APOSTOLIC RANK.

THE order in which the names of the apostles are arranged in this book, can make little difference in the interest which their history will excite in the reader’s mind, nor can such an arrangement, of itself, do much to affect his opinion of their comparative merits; yet to their biographer, it becomes a matter of some importance, as well as interest, to show not only authority, but reason, for the order in which he ranks them.

Sufficient _authority_ for placing Simon Cephas first, is found in the three lists of the apostles given respectively by Matthew, Mark and Luke, which, though differing as to their arrangement in some particulars, entirely agree in giving to this apostle the precedence of all. But it would by no means become the earnest and faithful searcher into sacred history, to rest satisfied with a bare reference to the unerring word, on a point of so much interest. So far from it, the strictest reverence for the sacred record both allows and urges the inquiry, as to what were the circumstances of Peter’s life and character, that led the three evangelists thus unanimously and decidedly to place him at the head of the sacred band, on all whom, in common, rested the commissioned power of doing the marvelous works of Jesus, and spreading his gospel in all the world. Was this preference the result of mere incidental circumstances, such as age, prior calling, &c.? Or, does it mark a pre-eminence of character or qualifications, entitling him to lead and rule the apostolic company in the name of Christ, as the commissioned chief of the faithful?

The _reason_ of this preference, as far as connected with his character, will of course be best shown in the incidents of his life and conduct, as detailed in this narrative. But even here much may be brought forward to throw light on the ground of Peter’s rank, as first of the apostles. It is no more than fair to remark, however, that some points of this inquiry have been very deeply, and at the same time, very unnecessarily involved in the disputes between Protestants and Papists, respecting the original supremacy of the church of Rome, as supposed to have been founded or ruled by this chief apostle.

Of the many suppositions which might be made to account for Peter’s priority of station on the apostolic list, it may be enough to notice the following: That he was by birth the oldest of the twelve. This assertion, however boldly made by some, rests entirely on conjecture, as we have no certain information on this point, either from the New Testament or any ancient writer of indisputable credit. Those of the early Christian writers who allude to this matter, are quite contradictory in their statements, some supposing Peter to be the oldest of the apostles, and some supposing Andrew to be older than his brother;――a discrepancy that may well entitle us to conclude that they had no certain information about the matter. The weight of testimony, however, seems rather against the assertion that Peter was the oldest, inasmuch as the earliest writer who alludes at all to the subject, very decidedly pronounces Andrew to have been the older brother. Enough, then, is known, to prevent our relying on his seniority as the true ground of his precedence. Still this point must be considered as entirely doubtful; so doubtful that it cannot be considered as proof, in the argument.

The oldest Christian writer, who refers in any way to the
comparative age of Peter, is Epiphanius, bishop of Cyprus, as
early as A. D. 368. In his great work against heresies, (book ii.
vol. 1, heresy 51,) in narrating the call of Andrew and Peter,
he says, “The meeting (with Jesus) happened first to Andrew,
Peter being less than him in age,” (μικροτερου οντος τω χρονῳ
της ἡλικιας.) “But afterwards, when their complete forsaking of
all earthly things is mentioned, Peter takes precedence, since
God, who sees the turn of all characters, and knows who is fit
for the highest places, chose Peter as the chief leader (αρχηγον)
of his disciples.” This, certainly, is a very distinct assertion
of Peter’s juniority, and is plainly meant to give the idea that
Peter’s high rank among the apostles was due to a superiority of
talent, which put him above those who were older.

In favor of the assertion that Peter was older than Andrew, the
earliest authority that has ever been cited, is John Chrysostom,
bishop of Constantinople, about A. D. 400. This Father, in his
homily on Matthew xvii. 27, (Homily 59,) says that Peter was a
“first-born son,” (πρωτοτοκος.) In this passage, he is speaking
of the tribute paid by Jesus and Peter for the expenses of the
temple. He supposes that this tribute was the redemption-money
due from the first-born sons of the Jews, for their exemption
from the duties of the priesthood. But the account of this
tax, in Numbers iii. 44‒51, shows that this was a tax of _five_
shekels apiece, while that spoken of by Matthew, is called the
_didrachmon_, a Greek coin equivalent to a _half_-shekel. Now
the half-shekel tax was that paid by _every_ Jew above the age
of twenty years, for the expenses of the temple service, as
is fully described in Exodus xxx. 12‒16; xxxviii. 26. Josephus
also mentions this half-shekel tax, as due from _every_ Jew, for
the service of the temple. (See Hammond on Matthew xvii. 24.)
Chrysostom is therefore wholly in the wrong, about the nature of
the tax paid by Jesus and Peter; (verse 27, “give it for me and
thee,”) and the reason which he gives for the payment, (namely,
that they were both first-born sons,) being disproved, his
belief of Peter’s seniority is shown to be based on an error,
and therefore entitled to no credit whatever; more particularly,
when opposed to the older authority of Epiphanius.

Lardner, in support of the opinion that Peter was the oldest,
quotes also Cassian and Bede; but it is most manifest that a
bare assertion of two writers, who lived, one of them 424, and
the other 700 years after Christ,――an assertion unsupported by
any proof whatever, cannot be received as evidence in the case.
The most natural _conjecture_ of any one who was accounting
for the eminence of Peter, would be that he was older than the
brother of whom he takes precedence so uniformly; and it is no
more than just to conclude, therefore, that the ground of this
notion was but a mere guess. But in the case of Epiphanius,
besides the respect due to the early authority, it is important
to observe, that he could have no motive for inventing the
notion of Andrew’s seniority, since the uniform prominence
of Peter would most naturally suggest the idea that _he_ was
the oldest. It is fair to conclude, then, that an opinion, so
unlikely to be adopted without special proof, must have had the
authority of uniform early tradition; for Epiphanius mentions it
as if it were a universally admitted fact; nor does he seem to
me to have invented the notion of Andrew’s seniority, to account
for his being first known to Jesus, though he mentions these two
circumstances in their natural connection. Yet Lampius, in his
notes on John i. supposing that Epiphanius arranged the facts on
the principle “post hoc, ergo, propter hoc,” has rejected this
Father’s declaration of Andrew’s seniority, as a mere invention,
to account for this apostle’s prior acquaintance with Jesus. The
reader may judge between them.

Lardner, moreover, informs us that Jerome maintains the opinion,
that Peter was preferred before the other apostles on account
of his age. But a reference to the original passage, shows that
the comparison was only between Peter and John, and not between
Peter and the rest of the apostles. Speaking of Peter as the
constituted head of the church, he says that was done to avoid
dissensions, (_ut schismatis tollatur occasio_.) The question
might then arise, why was not John chosen first, being so pure
and free from connections that might interfere with apostolic
duties? (Cur non Johannes electus est virgo? Aetati delatum
est, quia Petrus _senior_ erat; ne adhuc adolescens ac pene
puer progressae aetatis hominibus praeferretur.) “It was out
of regard to age, because Peter was _older_ (than John;) nor
could one who was yet immature, and little more than a boy, be
preferred to a man of mature age.” The passage evidently does
not touch the question of Peter’s being the oldest of all, nor
does it contradict, in any way, the opinion that Andrew was
older, as all which Jerome says is, merely, that Peter was older
than John,――an opinion unquestionably accordant with the general
voice of all ancient Christian tradition.

The character of Epiphanius, however, it must be acknowledged,
is so low for judgment and accuracy, that his word is not
of itself sufficient to establish any very doubtful fact, as
certain. Yet in this case, there is no temptation to pervert
facts on a point of so little interest or importance, and one on
which no prejudice could govern his decision. We may therefore
give him, in this matter, about all the credit due to his
antiquity. Still, there is much more satisfactory proof of
Peter’s not being the oldest apostle, founded on various
circumstances of apostolic history, which will be referred to
in their places.

Nor can priority of calling be offered as the reason of this apparent superiority; for the minute record given by the evangelist John, makes it undeniable that Andrew became acquainted with Jesus before Peter, and that the eminent disciple was afterwards first made known to Jesus, by means of his less highly honored brother.

The only reasonable supposition left, then, is, that there was an intentional preference of Simon Cephas, on the score of eminence for genius, zeal, knowledge, prudence, or some other quality which fitted him for taking the lead of the chief ministers of the Messiah. The word “_first_,” which accompanies his name in Matthew’s list, certainly appears, in the view of some, to have some force above the mere tautological expression of a fact so very self-evident from the collocation, as that he was first on the list. The Bible shows not an instance of a list begun in that way, with this emphatic word so vainly and unmeaningly applied. The analogies of expression in all languages, ancient and modern, would be very apt to lead a common reader to think that the numeral adjective thus prefixed, was meant to give the idea that Simon Peter was put _first_ for some better reason than mere accident. Any person, in giving a list of twelve eminent men, all devoted to a common pursuit, and laboring in one great cause, whose progress he was attempting to record, would, in arranging them, if he disregarded the circumstances of seniority, &c., very naturally give them place according to their importance in reference to the great subject before him. If, as in the present case, three different persons should, in the course of such a work, make out such a list, an individual difference of opinion about a matter of mere personal preference, like this, might produce variations in the minor particulars; but where all three united in giving to one and the same person, the first and most honorable place, the ordinary presumption would unavoidably be, that the prior rank of the person thus distinguished, was considered, by them at least, at the time when they wrote, as decidedly and indisputably established. The determination of a point so trifling being without any influence on matters of faith and doctrine, each evangelist might, without detriment to the sanctity and authority of the record which he bears, be left to follow his own private opinion of the most proper principle of arrangement to be followed in enumerating the apostles. Thus, while it is noticeable that the whole twelve were disposed in six pairs by each of the evangelists, yet the order and succession of these is somewhat changed, by different circumstances directing the choice of each writer. Matthew modestly puts himself after Thomas, with whom he seems by all the gospel lists, to have some close connection; but Mark and Luke combine to give Matthew the precedence, and invert the order in which, through unobtrusiveness, he had, as it would seem, robbed true merit of its due superiority. And yet these points of precedence were so little looked to, that in the first chapter of Acts, Luke makes a new arrangement of these names, advancing Thomas to the precedency, not only of Matthew, but of Bartholomew, who, in all other places where their names are given, is mentioned before him. So also Matthew prefers to mention the brothers together, and gives Andrew a place immediately after Peter, although, in so many places after, he speaks of Peter, James and John together, as most highly distinguished by Christ, and favored by opportunities of beholding him and his works, on occasions when other eyes were shut out. Mark, on the contrary, gives these names with more strict reference to distinction of rank, and mentions the favored trio together, first of all, making the affinities of birth of less consequence than the share of favor enjoyed by each with the Messiah. Luke, in his gospel, follows Matthew’s arrangement of the brothers, but in the first chapter of Acts puts the three great apostles first, separating Andrew from his brother, and mentioning him after the sons of Zebedee. These changes of arrangement, while they show of how little vital importance the order of names was considered, yet, by the uniform preservation of Peter in the first rank, prove that the exalted pre-eminence of Peter was so universally known and acknowledged, that whatever difference of opinion writers might entertain respecting more obscure persons,――as to him, no inversion of order could be permitted.

How far Peter was by this pre-eminence endowed with any supremacy over the other apostles, may of course be best shown in those places of his history, which appear either to maintain or question this position.

That Simon Cephas, or Peter, then, was the first or chief of the apostles, appears from the uniform precedence with which his name is honored on all occasions in the Scriptures, where the order in which names are mentioned could be made to depend on rank,――by the universal testimony of the Fathers, and by the general impressions entertained on this point throughout the Christian world, in all ages since his time.

HIS BIRTH.

From two separate passages in the gospels, we learn that the name of the father of Simon Peter was Jonah, but beyond this we have no direct information as to his family. From the terms in which Peter is frequently mentioned along with the other apostles, we infer, however, that he must have been from the lowest order of society, which also appears from the business to which he devoted his life, before he received the summons that sent him forth to the world, on a far higher errand. Of such a humble family, he was born at Bethsaida, in Galilee, on or near the shore of the sea of Galilee, otherwise called lake Tiberias, or Gennesaret. Upon this lake he seems to have followed his laborious and dangerous livelihood, which very probably, in accordance with the hereditary succession of trades, common among the Jews, was the occupation of his father and ancestors before him. Of the time of his birth no certain information can be had, as those who were able to inform us, were not disposed to set so high a value upon ages and dates, as the writers and readers of later times. The most reasonable conjecture as to his age, is, that he was about the same age with Jesus Christ; which rests on the circumstances of his being married at the period when he was first called by Christ,――his being made the object of such high confidence and honor by his Master, and the eminent standing which he seems to have maintained, from the first, among the apostles. Still there is nothing in all these circumstances, that is irreconcilable with the supposition that he was younger than Christ; and if any reader prefers to suppose the period of his birth so much later, there is no important point in his history or character that will be affected by such a change of dates.

_Bethsaida._――The name of this place occurs in several passages
of gospel history, as connected with the scenes of the life of
Jesus. (Matthew xi. 21; Mark vi. 45, viii. 22‒26; Luke ix. 10,
x. 13; John i. 45, xii. 21.) The name likewise occurs in the
writings of Josephus, who describes Bethsaida, and mentions some
circumstances of its history. The common impression among the
New Testament commentators has been, that the Bethsaida which is
so often mentioned in the gospels, was on the western shore of
lake Gennesaret, near the other cities which were the scenes of
important events in the life of Jesus. Yet Josephus distinctly
implies that Bethsaida was situated on the eastern shore of the
lake, as he says that it was built by Philip the tetrarch, in
Lower Gaulonitis, (Jewish war, book ii. chapter 9, section 1,)
which was on the eastern side of the Jordan and the lake,
though not in _Peraea_, as Lightfoot rather hastily assumes; for
Peraea, though by its derivation (from περαν, _peran_, “beyond,”)
meaning simply “what was beyond” the river, yet was, in the
geography of Palestine, applied to only that portion of the
country east of Jordan, which extends from Moab on the south,
northward, to Pella, on the Jabbok. (Josephus, Jewish war, book
iii. chapter 3, section 3.) Another point in which the account
given by Josephus differs from that in the gospels, is, that
while Josephus places Bethsaida in Gaulonitis, John (xii. 21,)
speaks of it distinctly as a city of Galilee, and Peter, as well
as others born in Bethsaida, is called a Galilean. These two
apparent disagreements have led many eminent writers to conclude
that there were on and near the lake, two wholly different
places bearing the name of Bethsaida. Schleusner, Bretschneider,
Fischer, Pococke, Reland, Michaelis, Kuinoel, Rosenmueller, and
others, have maintained this opinion with many arguments. But
Lightfoot, Cave, Calmet, Baillet, Macknight, Wells, and others,
have decided that these differences can be perfectly reconciled,
and all the circumstances related in the gospels, made to agree
with Josephus’s account of the situation of Bethsaida.

Illustration: TIBERIAS AND THE SEA OF GALILEE.
Mark i. 16. John vi. 1.