Chapter XXVII: Part 27

The nature and immediate object of this plot may not be perfectly comprehended, without considering minutely the relations in which Jesus stood to the Jewish Sanhedrim, and the means he had of resisting or evading their efforts for the consummation of their schemes and hopes against him. Jesus of Nazareth was, to the chief priests, scribes and Pharisees, a dangerous foe. He had, during his visits to Jerusalem, in his repeated encounters with them in the courts of the temple, and all public places of assembly, struck at the very foundation of all their authority and power over the people. The Jewish hierarchy was supported by the sway of the Romans, indeed, but only because it was in accordance with their universal policy of tolerance, to preserve the previously established order of things, in all countries which they conquered, so long as such a preservation was desired by the people; but no longer than it was perfectly accordant with the feelings of the majority. The Sanhedrim and their dependents therefore knew perfectly well that their establishment could receive no support from the Roman government, after they had lost their dominion over the affections of the people; and were therefore very ready to perceive, that if they were to be thus confounded and set at nought, in spite of learning and dignity, by a poor Galilean, and even their gravest and most puzzling attacks upon his wisdom and prudence, turned into an absolute jest against them,――it was quite clear that the amused and delighted multitude would soon cease to regard the authority and opinions of their venerable religious and legal rulers, whose subtleties were so easily foiled by one of the common, uneducated mass. But the very circumstances which effected and constituted the evil, were also the grand obstacles to the removal of it. Jesus was by these means seated firmly in the love and reverence of the people,――and of the vast numbers of strangers then in Jerusalem at the feast, there were very many who would have their feelings strongly excited in his favor, by the circumstance that they, as well as he, were Galileans, and would therefore be very apt to make common cause with him in case of any violent attack. All these obstacles required management; and after having been very many times foiled in their attempts to seize him, by the resolute determination of the thousands by whom he was always encircled, to defend him, they found that they must contrive some way to get hold of him when he was without the defenses of this admiring host. This could be done, of course, only by following him to his secret haunts, and coming quietly upon him before the multitude could assemble to his aid. But his movements were altogether beyond their notice. No armed band could follow him about, as he went from the city to the country in his daily and nightly walks. They needed some spy who could watch his private movements when unattended, save by the little band of the twelve, and give notice of the favorable moment for a seizure, when the time, the place, and the circumstances, would all conspire to prevent a rescue. Thus taken, he might be safely lodged in some of the impregnable fortresses of the temple and city, so as to defy the momentary burst of popular rage, on finding that their idol had been taken away. They knew too, the fickle character of the commonalty, well enough to feel certain, that when the tide of condemnation was once strongly set against the Nazarene, the lip-worship of “Hosannas” could be easily turned, by a little management, into the ferocious yell of deadly denunciation. The mass of the people are always essentially the same in their modes of action. Mobs were then managed by the same rules as now, and demagogues were equally well versed in the tricks of their trade. Besides, when Jesus had once been formally indicted and presented before the secular tribunal of the Roman governor, as a rioter and seditious person, no thought of a rescue from the military force could be thought of; and however unwilling Pilate might be to minister to the wishes of the Jews, in an act of unnecessary cruelty, he could not resist a call thus solemnly made to him, in the character of preserver of the Roman sway, though he would probably have rejected entirely any proposition to seize Jesus by a military force, in open day, in the midst of the multitude, so as to create a troublesome and bloody tumult, by such an imprudent act. In the full consideration of all these difficulties, the Jewish dignitaries were sitting in conclave, contriving means to effect the settlement of their troubles, by the complete removal of him who was unquestionably the cause of all. At once their anxious deliberations were happily interrupted by the entrance of the trusted steward of the company of Jesus, who changed all their doubts and distant hopes into absolute certainty, by offering, for a reasonable consideration, to give up Jesus into their hands, a prisoner, without any disturbance or riot. How much delay and debate there was about terms, it would be hard to say; but after all, the bargain made, does not seem to have been greatly to the credit of the liberality of the Sanhedrim, or the sharpness of Judas. Thirty of the largest pieces of silver then coined, would make but a poor price for such an extraordinary service, even making all allowance for a scarcity of money in those times. And taking into account the wealth and rank of those concerned, as well as the importance of the object, it is fair to pronounce them a very mean set of fellows. But Judas especially seems to forfeit almost all right to the character given him of acuteness in money matters; and it is only by supposing him to be quite carried out of his usual prudence, by his woful abandonment to crime, that so poor a bargain can be made consistent with the otherwise reasonable view of his character.

_Thirty pieces of silver._――The value of these pieces is
seemingly as vaguely expressed in the original as in the
translation; but a reference to Hebrew usages throws some light
on the question of definition. The common Hebrew coin thus
expressed was the shekel,――equivalent to the Greek _didrachmon_,
and worth about sixteen cents. In Hebrew the expression, thirty
“shekels of silver,” was not always written out in full; but
the name of the coin being omitted, the expression was always
equally definite, because no other coin was ever left thus
to be implied. Just so in English, the phrase, “a million of
money,” is perfectly well understood here, to mean “a million of
_dollars_;” while in England, the current coin of that country
would make the expression mean so many _pounds_. In the same
manner, to say, in this country, that any thing or any man is
worth “thousands,” always conveys, with perfect definiteness,
the idea of “dollars;” and in every other country the same
expression would imply a particular coin. Thirty pieces of
silver, each of which was worth sixteen cents, would amount
only to four dollars and eighty cents, which are just one pound
sterling. A small price for the great Jewish Sanhedrim to pay
for the ruin of their most dangerous foe! Yet for this little
sum, the Savior of the world was bought and sold!

Having thus settled this business, the cheaply-purchased traitor returned to the unsuspecting fellowship of the apostles, mingling with them, as he supposed, without the slightest suspicion on the part of any one, respecting the horrible treachery which he had contrived for the bloody ruin of his Lord. But there was an eye, whose power he had never learned, though dwelling beneath its gaze for years,――an eye, which saw the vainly hidden results of his treachery, even as for years it had scanned the base motives which governed him. Yet no word of reproach or denunciation broke forth from the lips of the betrayed One; the progress of crime was suffered unresistedly to bear him onward to the mournfully necessary fulfilment of his destiny. Judas meanwhile, from day to day, waited and watched for the most desirable opportunity of meeting his engagements with his priestly employers. The first day of the feast of unleavened bread having arrived, Jesus sat down at evening to eat the Paschal lamb with his twelve disciples, alone. The whole twelve were there without one exception,――and among those who reclined around the table, sharing in the social delights of the entertainment which celebrated the beginning of the grand national festival, was the dark-souled accuser also, like Satan among the sons of God. Even here, amid the general joyous hilarity, his great scheme of villainy formed the grand theme of his meditations,――and while the rest were entering fully into the natural enjoyments of the occasion, he was brooding over the best means of executing his plans. During the supper, after the performance of the impressive ceremony of washing their feet, Jesus made a sudden transition from the comments with which he was illustrating it; and, in a tone of deep and sorrowful emotion, suddenly exclaimed, “I solemnly assure you, that one of you will betray me.” This surprising assertion, so emphatically made, excited the most distressful sensations among the little assembly;――all enjoyment was at an end; and grieved by the imputation, in which all seemed included until the individual was pointed out, they each earnestly inquired, “Lord, is it I?” As they sat thus looking in the most painful doubt around their lately cheerful circle, the disciple who held the place of honor and affection at the table, at the request of Peter, whose position gave him less advantage for familiar and private conversation,――plainly asked of Jesus, “Who is it, Lord?” Jesus, to make his reply as deliberate and impressive as possible, said, “It is he to whom I shall give a sop when I have dipped it.” The design of all this circumlocution in pointing out the criminal, was, to mark the enormity of the offense. “He that eateth bread with me, hath lifted up his heel against me.” It was his familiar friend, his chosen companion, enjoying with him at that moment the most intimate social pleasures of the entertainment, and occupying one of the places nearest to him, at the board. As he promised, after dipping the sop, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, who, receiving it, was moved to no change in his dark purpose; but with a new Satanic spirit, resolved immediately to execute his plan, in spite of this open exposure, which, he might think, was meant to shame him from his baseness. Jesus, with an eye still fixed on his most secret inward movements, said to him, “What thou doest, do quickly.” Judas, utterly lost to repentance and to shame, coolly obeyed the direction, as if it had been an ordinary command, in the way of his official duty, and went out at the words of Jesus. All this, however, was perfectly without meaning, to the wondering disciples, who, not yet recovered from their surprise at the very extraordinary announcement which they had just heard of the expected treachery, could not suppose that this quiet movement could have anything to do with the occurrence which preceded it; but concluded that Judas was going about the business necessary for the preparation of the next day’s festal entertainment,――or that he was following the directions of Jesus about the charity to be administered to the poor out of the funds in his keeping, in accordance with the commendable Hebrew usage of remembering the poor on great occasions of enjoyment,――a custom to which, perhaps, the previous words of Judas, when he rebuked the waste of the ointment by Mary, had some especial reference, since at that particular time, money was actually needed for bestowment in alms to the poor. Judas, after leaving the place where the declaration of Jesus had made him an object of such suspicion and dislike, went, under the influence of that evil spirit, to whose direction he was now abandoned, directly to the chief priests, (who were anxiously waiting the fulfilment of his promise,) and made known to them that the time was now come. The band of watchmen and servants, with their swords and cudgels, were accordingly mustered and put under the guidance of Judas, who, well knowing the place to which Jesus would of course go from the feast, conducted his band of low assistants across the brook Kedron, to the garden of Gethsemane. On the way he arranged with them the sign by which they should recognize, in spite of the darkness and confusion, the person whose capture was the grand object of this expedition. “The man whom I shall kiss is he: seize him.” Entering the garden, at length, he led them straight to the spot which his intimate familiarity with Jesus enabled him to know, as his favorite retreat. Going up to him with the air of friendly confidence, he saluted him, as if rejoiced to find him, even after this brief absence,――another instance of the very close intimacy which had existed between the traitor and the betrayed. Jesus submitted to this hollow show, without any attempt to repulse the movement which marked him for destruction, only saying, in mild but expressive reproach,――“Judas! Betrayest thou the Son of Man with a kiss?” Without more delay he announced himself in plain terms, to those who came to seize him; thus showing how little need there was of artful contrivance in taking one who did not seek to escape. “If ye seek Jesus of Nazareth, I am he.” The simple majesty with which these words were uttered, was such as to overawe even the low officials; and it was not till he himself had again distinctly reminded them of their object, that they could execute their errand. So vain was the arrangement of signals, which had been studiously made by the careful traitor.

No further mention is made of Iscariot after the scene of his treachery, until the next morning, when Jesus had been condemned by the high court of the Sanhedrim, and dragged away to undergo punishment from the secular power. The sun of another day had risen on his crime; and after a very brief interval, he now had time for cool meditation on the nature and consequences of his act. Spite and avarice had both now received their full gratification. The thirty pieces of silver were his, and the Master whose instructions he had hated for their purity and spirituality, because they had made known to him the vileness of his own character and motives, was now in the hands of those who were impelled, by the darkest passions, to secure his destruction. But after all, now came the thought, and inquiry, ‘what had the pure and holy Jesus done, to deserve this reward at his hands?’ He had called him from the sordid pursuits of a common life, to the high task of aiding in the regeneration of Israel. He had taught him, labored with him, prayed for him, trusted him as a near and worthy friend, making him the steward of all the earthly possessions of his apostolic family, and the organ of his ministrations of charity to the poor. All this he had done without the prospect of a reward, surely. And why? To make him an instrument, not of the base purposes of a low ambition;――not to acquire by this means the sordid and bloody honors of a conqueror,――but to effect the moral and spiritual emancipation of a people, suffering far less under the evils of a foreign sway, than under the debasing dominion of folly and sin. And was this an occasion to arm against him the darker feelings of his trusted and loved companions?――to turn the instruments of his mercy into weapons of death? Ought the mere disappointment of a worldly-minded spirit, that was ever clinging to the love of material things, and that would not learn the solemn truth of the spiritual character of the Messiah’s reign, now to cause it to vent its regrets at its own errors, in a traitorous attack upon the life of him who had called it to a purpose whose glories and rewards it could not appreciate? These and other mournful thoughts would naturally rise to the repentant traitor’s mind, in the awful revulsion of feeling which that morning brought with it. But repentance is not atonement; nor can any change of feeling in the mind of the sinner, after the perpetration of the sinful act, avail anything for the removal or expiation of the evil consequences of it. So vain and unprofitable, both to the injurer and the injured, are the tears of remorse! And herein lay the difference between the repentance of Judas and of Peter. The sin of Peter affected no one but himself, and was criminal only as the manifestation of a base, selfish spirit of deceit, that fell from truth through a vain-glorious confidence,――and the effusion of his gushing tears might prove the means of washing away the pollution of such an offense from his soul. But the sin of Judas had wrought a work of crime whose evil could not be affected by any tardy change of feeling in him. Peter’s repentance came too late indeed, to exonerate him from guilt; because all repentance is too late for such a purpose, when it comes after the commission of the sin. The repentance of an evil purpose, coming in time to prevent the execution of the act, is indeed available for good; but both Peter and Judas came to the sense of the heinousness of sin, only after its commission. Peter however, had no evil to repair for others,――while Judas saw the bloody sequel of his guilt, coming with most irrevocable certainty upon the blameless One whom he had betrayed. Overwhelmed with vain regrets, he took the now hateful, though once-desired price of his villainy, and seeking the presence of his purchasers, held out to them the money, with the useless confession of the guilt, which was too accordant with their schemes and hopes, for them to think of redeeming him from its consequences. The words of his confession were, “I have sinned, in betraying innocent blood.” This late protestation was received by the proud priests, with as much regard as might have been expected from exulting tyranny, when in the enjoyment of the grand object of its efforts. With a cold sneer they replied, “What is that to us? See thou to that!” Maddened with the immovable and remorseless determination of the haughty condemners of the just, he flung down the price of his infamy and woe, upon the floor of the temple, and rushed out of their presence, to seal his crimes and eternal misery by the act that put him for ever beyond the power of redemption. Seeking a place removed from the observation of men, he hurried out of the city, and contriving the fatal means of death for himself, before the bloody doom of him whom he betrayed had been fulfilled, the wretched man saved his eyes the renewed horrors of the sight of the crucifixion, by closing them in the sleep which earthly sights can not disturb. But even in the mode of his death, new circumstances of horror occurred. Swinging himself into the air, by falling from a highth, as the cord tightened around his neck, checking his descent, the weight of his body produced the rupture of his abdomen, and his bowels bursting through, made him, as he swung stiffening and convulsed in the agonies of this doubly horrid death, a disgusting and appalling spectacle,――a monument of the vengeance of God on the traitor, and a shocking witness of his own remorse and self-condemnation.

A very striking difference is noticeable between the account
given by Matthew of the death of Judas, and that given by
Luke in the speech of Peter, Acts i. 18, 19. The various modes
of reconciling these difficulties are found in the ordinary
commentaries. In respect to a single expression in Acts i. 18,
there is an ingenious conjecture offered by Granville Penn, in a
very interesting and learned article in the first volume of the
transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, which may very
properly be mentioned here, on account of its originality and
plausibility, and because it is found only in an expensive work,
hardly ever seen in this country. Mr. Penn’s view is, that “the
word ελακησε (_elakese_,) in Acts i. 18, is only an inflection
of the Latin verb, _laqueo_, (to halter or strangle,) rendered
insititious in the Hellenistic Greek, under the form λακεω.” He
enters into a very elaborate argument, which can not be given
here, but an extract may be transcribed, in order to enable
the learned to apprehend the nature and force of his views.
(Translated by R. S. Lit. Vol. I. P. 2, pp. 51, 52.)

“Those who have been in the southern countries of Europe know,
that the operation in question, as exercised on a criminal, is
performed with a great length of cord, with which the criminal
is _precipitated_ from a high beam, and is thus violently
_laqueated_, or snared in a noose, _mid-way_――_medius_ or _in
medio_; μεσος, and _medius_, referring to _place_ as well as
to _person_; as, μεσος ὑμων ἑστηκεν. (John i. 26.) ‘Considit
scopulo medius――――’ (Virgil, Georgics, iv. 436.) ‘―――― medius
prorumpit in hostes.’ (Aeneid, x. 379.)

“Erasmus distinctly perceived this sense in the words πρηνης
γενομενος, although he did not discern it in the word ελακησε,
which confirms it: ‘πρηνης Graecis dicitur, qui _vultu est in
terram dejecto_: expressit autem _gestum et habitum_ LAQUEO
PRAEFOCATI; alioquin, ex hoc sane loco non poterat intelligi,
quod Judas _suspenderit se_,’ (in loc.) And so Augustine also
had understood those words, as he shows in his _Recit. in Act.
Apostol._ l. i. col. 474. ‘et collem sibi alligavit, et dejectus
in faciem,’ &c. Hence one MS., cited by Sabatier, for πρηνης
γενομενος, reads αποκρεμαμένος; and Jerom, in his new vulgate,
has substituted _suspensus_ for the _pronus factus_ of the old
Latin version, which our old English version of 1542 accordingly
renders, _and when he was hanged_.

“That which follows, and which evidently determined the vulgar
interpretation of ελακησε――εξεχυνθη παντα τα σπλαγχνα αυτου,
_all his bowels gushed out_――states a natural and probable
effect produced, by the sudden interruption in the fall and
violent capture in the noose, in a frame of great corpulency
and distension, such as Christian antiquity has recorded that
of the traitor to have been; so that a term to express rupture
would have been altogether unnecessary, and it is therefore
equally unnecessary to seek for it in the verb ελακησε. Had the
historian intended to express disruption, we may justly presume
that he would have said, as he had already said in his gospel,
v. 6, διερρηγνυτο, or xxiii. 45, εσχισθη μεσος: it is difficult
to conceive, that he would here have traveled into the language
of ancient Greek poetry for a word to express a common idea,
when he had common terms at hand and in practice; but he used
the Roman _laqueo_, λακεω, to mark the infamy of the death.

“(Πρησθεις επι τοσουτον την σαρκα, ὡστε μη δυνασθαι δειλθειν.
Papias, from Routh's _Reliquiæ Sacræ_ tom. I. p. 9. and
Oecumenius, thus rendered by Zegers, _Critici Sacri_, Acts i.
18, _in tantum enim corpore inflatus est ut progredi non
posset_. The tale transmitted by those writers of the first
and tenth centuries, that Judas was crushed to death by a
chariot proceeding rapidly, from which his unwieldiness rendered
him unable to escape, merits no further attention, after the
authenticated descriptions of the traitor’s death which we have
here investigated, than to suggest a possibility that the place
where the suicide was committed might have overhung a public
way, and that the body falling by its weight might have been
traversed, after death, by a passing chariot;――from whence might
have arisen the tales transmitted successively by those writers;
the first of whom, being an inhabitant of Asia Minor, and
therefore far removed from the theater of Jerusalem, and being
also (as Eusebius witnesses, iii. 39,) a man of a very weak
mind――σφοδρα μκρος τον νουν――was liable to be deceived by false
accounts.)

“The words of St. Peter, in the Hellenistic version of St.
Luke, will therefore import, _praeceps in ora fusus, laqueavit_
(_i. e._ implicuit se laqueo) _medius_; (_i. e._ in medio,
inter trabem et terram;) _et effusa sunt omnia viscera
ejus_――_throwing himself headlong, he caught mid-way in
the noose, and all his bowels gushed out_. And thus the two
reporters of the suicide, from whose respective relations
charges of disagreement, and even of contradiction, have been
drawn in consequence of _mistaking an insititious Latin word
for a genuine Greek word of corresponding elements_, are found,
by tracing that insititious word to its true origin, to report
identically the same fact; the one by a _single term_, the other
by a _periphrasis_.”

Such was the end of the twelfth of Jesus Christ’s chosen ones. To such an end was the intimate friend, the trusted steward, the festal companion of the Savior, brought by the impulse of some not very unnatural feelings, excited by occasion, into extraordinary action. The universal and intense horror which the relation of his crime now invariably awakens, is by no means favorable to a just and fair appreciation of his sin and its motives, nor to such an honest consideration of his course from rectitude to guilt, as is most desirable for the application of the whole story to the moral improvement of its readers. Originally not an infamous man, he was numbered among the twelve as a person of _respectable_ character, and long held among his fellow-disciples a responsible station, which is itself a testimony of his unblemished reputation. He was sent forth with them, as one of the heralds of salvation to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. He shared with them the counsels, the instructions, and the prayers of Jesus. If he was stupid in apprehending, and unspiritual in conceiving the truths of the gospel, so were they. If he was an unbeliever in the resurrection of Jesus, so were they; and had he survived till the accomplishment of that prophecy, he could not have been slower in receiving the evidence of the event, than they. As it was, he died in his unbelief; while they lived to feel the glorious removal of all their doubts, the purification of all their gross conceptions, and the effusion of that spirit of truth, through which, by the grace of God alone, they afterwards were what they were. Without a merit, in _faith_, beyond Judas, they maintained their dim and doubtful adherence to the truth, only by their nearer approximation to _moral_ perfection; and by their nobler freedom from the pollution of sordid and spiteful feeling. Through passion alone he fell, a victim, not to a want of faith merely,――for therein, the rest could hardly claim a superiority,――but to the radical deficiency of true _love_ for Jesus, of that “charity which never faileth,” but “endureth to the end.” It was their simple, devoted affection, which, through all their ignorance, their grossness of conception, and their faithlessness in his word, made them still cling to his name and his grave, till the full revelations of his resurrection and ascension had displaced their doubts by the most glorious certainties, and given their faith an eternal assurance. The great cause of the awful ruin of Judas Iscariot, then, was the fact, that _he did not LOVE Jesus_. Herein was his grand distinction from all the rest; for though their regard was mingled with so much that was base, there was plainly, in all of them, a solid foundation of true, deep affection. The most ambitious and skeptical of them, gave the most unquestionable proofs of this. Peter, John, both the Jameses, and others, are instances of the mode in which these seemingly opposite feelings were combined. But Judas was without this great refining and elevating principle, which so redeemed the most sordid feelings of his fellows. It was not merely for the love of money that he was led into this horrid crime. The love of four dollars and eighty cents! Who can believe that this was the sole motive? It was rather that _his_ sordidness and selfishness, and ambition, if he had any, lacked this single, purifying emotion, which redeemed their characters. Is there not, in this reflection, a moral which each Christian reader can improve to his own use? For the lack of the love of Jesus alone, Judas fell from his high estate, to an infamy as immortal as their fame. Wherever, through all ages, the high heroic energy of Peter, the ready faith of Andrew, the martyr-fire of James Boanerges, the soul-absorbing love of John, the willing obedience of Philip, the guileless purity of Nathanael, the recorded truth of Matthew, the slow but deep devotion of Thomas, the blameless righteousness of James the Just, the appellative zeal of Simon, and the earnest warning eloquence of Jude, are all commemorated in honor and bright renown,――the murderous, sordid spite of Iscariot, will insure him an equally lasting proverbial shame. Truly, “THE SIN OF JUDAS IS WRITTEN WITH A PEN OF IRON ON A TABLET OF MARBLE.”

MATTHIAS.

THE events which concern this person’s connection with the apostolic company, are briefly these. Soon after the ascension of Jesus, the eleven disciples being assembled in their “upper room,” with a large company of believers, making in all, together, a meeting of one hundred and twenty, Peter arose and presented to their consideration, the propriety and importance of filling, in the apostolic college, the vacancy caused by the sad defection of Judas Iscariot. Beginning with what seems to be an apt allusion to the words of David concerning Ahithophel,――(a quotation very naturally suggested by the striking similarity between the fate of that ancient traitor, and that of the base Iscariot,) he referred to the peculiarly horrid circumstances of the death of this revolted apostle, and also applied to these occurrences the words of the same Psalmist concerning those upon whom he invoked the wrath of God, in words which might with remarkable emphasis be made descriptive of the ruin of Judas. “Let his habitation be desolate,” and “let another take his office.” Applying this last quotation more particularly to the exigency of their circumstances, he pronounced it to be in accordance with the will of God that they should immediately proceed to select a person to “take the office” of Judas. He declared it an essential requisite for this office, moreover, that the person should be one of those who, though not numbered with the select twelve, had been among the intimate companions of Jesus, and had enjoyed the honors and privileges of a familiar discipleship, so that they could always testify of his great miracles and divine instructions, from their own personal knowledge as eye-witnesses of his actions, from the beginning of his divine career at his baptism by John, to the time of his ascension.

Agreeably to this counsel of the apostolic chief, the whole company of the disciples selected two persons from those who had been witnesses of the great actions of Christ, and nominated them to the apostles, as equally well qualified for the vacant office. To decide the question with perfect impartiality, it was resolved, in conformity with the common ancient practice in such cases, to leave the point between these two candidates to be settled by lot; and to give this mode of decision a solemnity proportioned to the importance of the occasion, they first invoked, in prayer, the aid of God in the appointment of a person best qualified for his service. They then drew the lots of the two candidates, and Matthias being thus selected, was thenceforth enrolled with the eleven apostles.

Of his previous history nothing whatever is known, except that, according to what is implied in the address of Peter, he must have been, from the beginning of Christ’s career to his ascension, one of his constant attendants and hearers. Some have conjectured that he was one of the seventy, sent forth by Jesus as apostles, in the same manner as the twelve had gone; and there is nothing unreasonable in the supposition; but still it is a conjecture merely, without any fact to support it. The New Testament is perfectly silent with respect to both his previous and his subsequent life, and not a fact can be recorded respecting him. Yet the productive imaginations of the martyrologists of the Roman and Greek churches, have carried him through a protracted series of adventures, during his alleged preaching of the gospel, first in Judea, and then in Ethiopia. They also pretend that he was martyred, though as to the precise mode there is some difference in the stories,――some relating that he was crucified, and others, that he was first stoned and then dispatched by a blow on the head with an axe. But all these are condemned by the discreet writers even of the Romish church, and the whole life of Matthias must be included among those many mysteries which can never be in any way brought to light by the most devoted and untiring researches of the Apostolic historian; and this dim and unsatisfactory trace of his life may well conclude the first grand division of a work, in which the reader will expect to find so much curious detail of matters commonly unknown, but which no research nor learning can furnish, for the prevention of his disappointment.

II. THE HELLENIST APOSTLES.

SAUL, AFTERWARDS NAMED PAUL.

HIS COUNTRY.

ON the farthest north-eastern part of the Mediterranean sea, where its waters are bounded by the great angle made by the meeting of the Syrian coast with the Asian, there is a peculiarity in the course of the mountain ranges, which deserves notice in a view of the countries of that region, modifying as it does, all their most prominent characteristics. The great chain of Taurus, which can be traced far eastward in the branching ranges of Singara, Masius and Niphates, running connectedly also into the distant peaks of mighty Ararat, here sends off a spur to the shore of the Mediterranean, which under the name of Mount Amanus meets its waters, just at their great north-eastern angle in the ancient gulf of Issus, now called the gulf of Scanderoon. Besides this connection with the mountain chains of Mesopotamia and Armenia on the northeast, from the south the great Syrian Lebanon, running very nearly parallel with the eastern shore of the Mediterranean, at the Issic angle, joins this common center of convergence, so insensibly losing its individual character in the Asian ridge, that by many writers, Mount Amanus itself is considered only a regular continuation of Lebanon. These, however, are as distinct as any of the chains here uniting, and the true Libanic mountains cease just at this grand natural division of Syria from the northern coast of the Mediterranean. A characteristic of the Syrian mountains is nevertheless prominent in the northern chain. They all take a general course parallel with the coast and very near it, occasionally sending out lateral ridges which mark the projections of the shore with high promontories. Of these, however, there are much fewer on the southern coast of Asia Minor; and the western ridge of Taurus, after parting from the grand angle of convergence, runs exactly parallel to the margin of the sea, in most parts about seven miles distant. The country thus fenced off by Taurus, along the southern coast of Asia Minor, is very distinctly characterized by these circumstances connected with its orography, and is in a very peculiar manner bounded and inclosed from the rest of the continent, by these natural features. The great mountain barrier of Taurus, as above described, stretches along the north, forming a mighty wall, which is at each end met at right angles by a lateral ridge, of which the eastern is Amanus, descending within a few rods of the water, while the western is the true termination of Taurus in that direction,――the mountains here making a grand curve from west to south, and stretching out into the sea, in a bold promontory, which definitely marks the farthest western limit of the long, narrow section, thus remarkably enclosed. This simple natural division, in the apostolic age, contained two principal artificial sub-divisions. On the west, was the province of Pamphylia, occupying about one fourth of the coast;――and on the east, the rest of the territory constituted the province of CILICIA, far-famed as the land of the birth of that great apostle of the Gentiles, whose life is the theme of these pages.

CILICIA,――opening on the west into Pamphylia,――is elsewhere inclosed in mountain barriers, impenetrable and impassable, except in two or three points, which are the only places in which it is accessible by land, though widely exposed, on the sea, by its long open coast. Of these two adits, the most important, and the one through which the vast proportion of its commercial intercourse with the world, by land, has always been carried on, is the eastern, which is just at the oft-mentioned great angle of the Mediterranean, where the mountains descend almost to the waters of the gulf of Issus. Mount Amanus, coming from the north-east, and stretching along the eastern boundary of Cilicia an impassable barrier, here advances to the shore; but just before its base reaches the water, it abruptly terminates, leaving between the high rocks and the sea a narrow space, which is capable of being completely commanded and defended from the mountains which thus guard it; and forming the only land passage out of Cilicia to the eastern coast of the Mediterranean, it was thence anciently called “THE GATES OF SYRIA.” Through these “gates,” has always passed all the traveling by land between Asia Minor and Palestine; and it is therefore an important point in the most celebrated route in apostolic history. The other main opening in the mountain walls of this region, is the passage through the Taurus, made by the course of the Sarus, the largest river of the province, which breaks through the northern ridge, in a defile that is called “THE GATES OF CILICIA.”

The boundaries of Cilicia are then,――on the north, mountainous Cappadocia, perfectly cut off by the impenetrable chain of Taurus, except the narrow pass through “the gates of Cilicia;”――on the east, equally well guarded by Mount Amanus, Northern Syria, the only land passages being through the famed “Syrian gates,” and another defile north of the coast, toward the Euphrates;――on the south, stretches the long margin of the sea, which in the western two-thirds of the coast takes the name of “the Cilician strait,” because it here flows between the mainland and the great island of Cyprus, which lies off the shore, always in sight, being less than thirty miles distant, the eastern third of the coast being bounded by the waters of the gulf of Issus;――and on the west Cilicia ends in the rough highlands of Pamphylia. The territory itself is distinguished by natural features, into two divisions,――Rocky Cilicia and “Level Cilicia,”――the former occupying the western third, and the latter the eastern part,――each district being abundantly well described by the term applied to it. Within the latter, lay the opening scenes of the apostle’s life.

Thus peculiarly guarded, and shut off from the world, it might be expected that this remarkable region would nourish, on the narrow plains of its fertile shores, and the vast rough mountains of its gigantic barriers, a race strongly marked in mental, as in physical characteristics. In all parts of the world, the philosophical observer may notice a relation borne by man to the soil on which he lives, and to the air which he breathes,――hardly less striking than the dependence of the inferior orders of created things, on the material objects which surround them. Man is an animal, and his natural history displays as many curious correspondences between his varying peculiarities and the locality which he inhabits, as can be observed between the physical constitution of inferior creatures, and the similar circumstances which affect them. The inhabitants of a wild, broken region, which rises into mighty inland mountains, or sends its cliffs and vallies into a vast sea, are, in all ages and climes, characterized by a peculiar energy and quickness of mind, which often marks them in history as the prominent actors in events of the highest importance to mankind in all the world. Even the dwellers of the cities of such regions, share in that peculiar vivacity of their countrymen, which is especially imbibed in the air of the mountains; and carry through all the world, till new local influences have again subjected them, the original characteristics of the land of their birth. The restless activity and dauntless spirit of Saul, present a striking instance of this relation of scenery to character. The ever-rolling waters of the tideless sea on one side presenting a boundless view, and on the other the blue mountains rearing a mighty barrier to the vision,――the thousand streams thence rolling to the former,――the white sands of the long plains, gemmed with the green of shaded fountains, as well as the active movements of a busy population, all living under these same inspiring influences,――would each have their effect on the soul of the young Cilician as he grew up in the midst of these modifying circumstances.

Along these shores, from the earliest period of Hellenic colonization, Grecian enterprise had planted its busy centers of civilization. On each favorable site, where agriculture or commerce could thrive, cities grew up in the midst of prosperous colonies, in which wealth and power in their rapid advance brought in the lights of science, art, literature, and all the refinements and elegances which Grecian colonization made the invariable accompaniments of its march,――adorning its solid triumphs with the graceful polish of all that could exalt the enjoyment of prosperity. Issus, Mopsuestia, Anchialus, Selinus and others, were among the early seats of Grecian refinement; and the more modern efforts of the Syro-Macedonian sway, had blessed Cilicia with the fruits of royal munificence, in such cities as Cragic Antioch, Seleucia the Rocky, and Arsinoe; and in still later times, the ever-active and wide-spreading beneficence of Roman dominion, had still farther multiplied the peaceful triumphs and trophies of civilization, by here raising or renewing cities, of which Baiae, Germanicia and Pompeiopolis are only a specimen. But of all these monuments of ancient or later refinement, there was none of higher antiquity or fame than TARSUS, the city where was born this illustrious apostle, whose life was so greatly instrumental in the triumphs of Christianity.

TARSUS stands north of the point of a wide indentation of the coast of Cilicia, forming a very open bay, into which, a few miles south, flow the waters of the classic Cydnus, a narrow stream which runs a brief course from the barrier of Taurus, directly southward to the sea. The river’s mouth forms a spacious and convenient harbor, to which the light vessels of ancient commerce all easily found safe and ready access, though most of the floating piles in which the productions of the world are now transported, might find such a harbor altogether inaccessible to their heavier burden.

Ammianus Marcellinus, the elegant historian of the decline of the Roman empire, speaks in high descriptive terms, both of the province, and the city which makes it eminent in Christian history. In narrating important events here performed during the times whose history he records, he alludes to the character of the region in a preliminary description. “After surmounting the peaks of Taurus, which towards the east rise into higher elevation, Cilicia spreads out before the observer, in far stretching areas,――a land, rich in all good things. To its right (that is the west, as the observer looks south from the summits of Taurus) is joined Isauria,――in equal degree verdant with palms and many fruits, and intersected by the navigable river Calycadnus. This, besides many towns, has two cities,――Seleucia, the work of Seleucus Nicator of Syria, and Claudiopolis, a colony founded by Claudius Caesar. Isauria however, once exceedingly powerful, has formerly been desolated for a destructive rebellion, and therefore shows but very few traces of its ancient splendor. But CILICIA, which rejoices in the river Cydnus, is _ennobled_ by TARSUS, a splendid city,――by Anazarbus, and by Mopsuestia, the dwelling-place of that Mopsus, who accompanied the Argonauts. These two provinces (Isauria or ‘Cilicia the Rocky,’ and Cilicia proper or ‘level’) being formerly connected with hordes of plunderers in a piratical war, were subjugated by the proconsul Servilius, and made tributary. And these regions, placed, as it were, on a long tongue of land, are separated from the eastern world by Mount Amanus.”

This account by Ammianus Marcellinus is found in book XIV. of
his history, (p. 19, edited by Vales.)

The native land of Saul was classic ground. Within the limits of Cilicia, were laid the scenes of some of the most splendid passages in early Grecian fable; and here too, were acted some of the grandest events in authentic history, both Greek and Roman. The very city of his birth, Tarsus, is said to have been founded by Perseus, the son of Jupiter and Danae, famed for his exploit at another place on the shore of this part of the Mediterranean. More authentic history however, refers its earliest foundation to Sardanapalus, king of Assyria, who built Tarsus and Anchialus in Cilicia, nine hundred years before Christ. Its origin is by others ascribed to Triptolemus with an Argive colony, who is represented on some medals as the founder. These two stories may be made consistent with each other, on the supposition that the same place was successively the scene of the civilizing influence of each of these attributed founders. So too, may be taken, the legend which Ammianus Marcellinus records and approves,――that it was founded by Sandan, a wealthy and eminent person from Ethiopia, who at some early period not specified, is said to have built Tarsus. It was however, at the earliest period that is definitely mentioned, subject to the Assyrian empire; and afterwards fell under the dominion of each of the sovranties which succeeded it, passing into the hands of the Persian and of Alexander, as each in turn assumed the lordship of the eastern world. While under the Persian sway, it is commemorated by Xenophon as having been honored by the presence of the younger Cyrus, when on his march through Asia to wrest the empire from his brother. On this occasion, he entered this region through the northern “gates of Cilicia,” and passed out through the “gates of Syria,” a passage which is, in connection with this event, very minutely described by the elegant historian of that famous expedition.

_Sardanapalus._――The fact of the foundation both of Tarsus and
Anchialus by this splendid but unfortunately extravagant monarch,
the last of his line, is commemorated by Arrian, who refers to
the high authority of an inscription which records the event.

“Anchialus is said to have been founded by the king of Assyria,
Sardanapalus. The fortifications, in their magnitude and extent,
still, in Arrian’s time, bore the character of greatness, which
the Assyrians appear singularly to have affected in works of
the kind. A monument, representing Sardanapalus, was found there,
warranted by an inscription in Assyrian characters, of course
in the old Assyrian language, which the Greeks, whether well
or ill, interpreted thus: ‘Sardanapalus, son of Anacyndaraxes,
in one day founded Anchialus and Tarsus. Eat, drink, play: all
other human joys are not worth a fillip.’ Supposing this version
nearly exact, (for Arrian says it was not quite so,) whether the
purpose has not been to invite to civil order a people disposed
to turbulence, rather than to recommend immoderate luxury,
may perhaps reasonably be questioned. What, indeed, could be the
object of a king of Assyria in founding such towns in a country
so distant from his capital, and so divided from it by an
immense extent of sandy desert and lofty mountains, and, still
more, how the inhabitants could be at once in circumstances to
abandon themselves to the intemperate joys which their prince
has been supposed to have recommended, is not obvious; but
it may deserve observation that, in that line of coast, the
southern of Lesser Asia, ruins of cities, evidently of an
age after Alexander, yet barely named in history, at this day
astonish the adventurous traveler by their magnificence and
elegance.” (Mitford’s Greece, Vol. IX. pp. 311, 312.)

Over the same route passed the conquering armies of the great Alexander. At Issus, within the boundaries of Cilicia, he met, in their mightiest array, the vast hosts of Darius, whom here vanquishing, he thus decided the destiny of the world. Before this great battle, halting to repose at Tarsus, he almost met his death, by imprudently bathing in the classic Cydnus, whose waters were famed for their extreme coldness. By a remarkable coincidence, the next conqueror of the world, Julius Caesar, also rested at Tarsus for some days before his great triumphs in Asia Minor. Cilicia had in the interval between these two visits passed from the Macedonian to the Roman dominion, being made a Roman province by Pompey, about sixty years before Christ, at the time when all the kingdoms of Asia and Syria were subjugated. After this it was visited by Cicero, at the time of his triumphs over the cities of eastern Cilicia; and its classic stream is still farther celebrated in immortal verse and prose, as the scene where Marcus Antony met Cleopatra for the first time. It was the Cydnus, down which she sailed in her splendid galley, to meet the conqueror, who for her afterwards lost the empire of the world. During all the civil wars which desolated the Roman empire through a long course of years in that age, Tarsus steadily adhered to the house of Caesar, first to the great Julius and afterwards to Augustus. So remarkable was its attachment and devotion to the cause of Julius, that when the assassin Cassius marched through Asia into Syria to secure the dominion of the eastern world, he laid siege to Tarsus, and having taken it, laid it waste with the most destructive vengeance for its adherence to the fortunes of his murdered lord; and such were its sufferings under these and subsequent calamities in the same cause, that when Augustus was at last established in the undivided empire of the world, he felt himself bound in honor and gratitude, to bestow on the faithful citizens of Tarsus the most remarkable favors. The city, having at the request of its inhabitants received the new name of _Julio_polis, as a testimony of their devotion to the memory of their murdered patron, was lavishly honored with almost every privilege which the imperial Augustus could bestow on these most faithful adherents of his family. From the terms in which his acts of generosity to them are recorded, it has been inferred,――though not therein positively stated,――that he conferred on it the rank and title of a Roman colony, or free city, which must have given all its inhabitants the exalted privileges of _Roman citizens_. This assertion has been disputed however, and forms one of the most interesting topics in the life of the great apostle, involving the inquiry as to the mode in which he obtained that inviolable privilege, which, on more than one occasion, snatched him from the clutches of tyrannical persecutors. Whether he held this privilege in common with all the citizens of Tarsus, or inherited it as a peculiar honor of his own family, is a question yet to be decided. But whatever may have been the precise extent of the municipal favors enjoyed by Tarsus, it is certain that it was an object of peculiar favor to the imperial Caesars during a long succession of years, not only before but after the apostle’s time, being crowned with repeated acts of munificence by Augustus, Adrian, Caracalla and Heliogabalus, so that through many centuries it was the most favored city in the eastern division of the Roman empire.

The history of Cilicia since the apostolic age, is briefly this:
It remained attached to the eastern division of the Roman empire,
until about A. D. 800, when it first fell under the Muhammedan
sway, being made part of the dominion of the Califs by Haroun
Al Rashid. In the thirteenth century it reverted to a Christian
government, constituting a province of the Armenian kingdom of
Leo. About A. D. 1400, it fell under the sway of Bajazet II.,
Sultan of the Ottoman empire, and is at present included in that
empire,――most of it in a single Turkish pashalic, under the name
of Adana.

_Roman citizens._――Witsius very fully discusses this point, as
follows. (Witsius _on the Life of Paul_ § 1. ¶ V.)