'The writer describes the circumstances of his journey as

follows:--"From Syria even unto Rome I fight with wild beasts, by

sea and by land, by night and day; being bound amongst ten

leopards, which are the band of soldiers: who even when good is

done to them render evil." Now if this account be in the least

degree true, how is it possible to suppose that the martyr could

have found means to write so many long epistles, entering minutely

into dogmatic teaching, and expressing the most deliberate and

advanced views regarding ecclesiastical government?'

And again:--

'It is impossible to suppose that soldiers such as the quotation

above describes would allow a prisoner, condemned to wild beasts

for professing Christianity, deliberately to write long epistles at

every stage of his journey, promulgating the very doctrines for

which he was condemned. And not only this, but on his way to

martyrdom, he has, according to the epistles, perfect freedom to

see his friends. He receives the bishops, deacons, and members of

various Christian communities, who come with greetings to him, and

devoted followers accompany him on his journey. All this without

hindrance from the "ten leopards," of whose cruelty he complains,

and without persecution or harm to those who so openly declare

themselves his friends and fellow-believers. The whole story is

absolutely incredible.'

To this objection, plausible as it may appear at first sight, a complete

answer is afforded by what is known of Roman procedure in other cases

[75:1]. As a matter of fact, Christian prisoners during the early

centuries were not uncommonly treated by the authorities with this same

laxity and indulgence which is here accorded to Ignatius. An excited

populace or a stern magistrate might insist on the condemnation of a

Christian; a victim must be sacrificed to the wrath of the gods, or to

the majesty of the law; a human life must be 'butcher'd to make a Roman

holiday;' but the treatment of the prisoners meanwhile, even after

condemnation, was, except in rare instances, the reverse of harsh. St

Paul himself preaches the Gospel apparently with almost as much effect

through the long years of his imprisonment as when he was at large.

During his voyage he moves about like the rest of his fellow-travellers;

when he arrives at Rome, he is still treated with great consideration.

He writes letters freely, receives visits from his friends, communicates

with churches and individuals as he desires, though the chain is on his

wrist and the soldier at his side all the while. Even at a much later

date, when the growth of the Christian Church may have created an alarm

among statesmen and magistrates which certainly cannot have existed in

the age of Ignatius, we see the same leniency of treatment, and (what is

more important) the same opportunities of disseminating their opinions

accorded to the prisoners. Thus Saturus and Perpetua, the African

martyrs, who suffered under Severus [76:1] (apparently in the year 202

or 203), are allowed writing materials, with which they record the

extant history of their sufferings; and they too are visited in prison

by Christian deacons, as well as by their own friends. They owed this

liberty partly to the humanity of the chief officers; partly to

gratuities bestowed by their friends on the gaolers [76:2]. Even after

the lapse of another half-century, when Decius seriously contemplated

the extermination of Christianity, we are surprised to find the amount

of communication still kept up with the prisoners in their dungeons. The

Cyprianic correspondence reveals to us the confessors and martyrs

writing letters to their friends, visited by large numbers of people,

even receiving the rites of the Church in their prisons at the hands of

Christian priests.

But the most powerful testimony is derived from the representations of a

heathen writer. The Christian career of Peregrinus must have fallen

within the reign of Antoninus Pius (A.D. 138-161). Thus it is not very

far removed, in point of time, from the age of Ignatius. This Peregrinus

is represented by Lucian, writing immediately after his death (A.D.

165), as being incarcerated for his profession of Christianity, and the

satirist thus describes the prison scene [76:3]:--

'When he was imprisoned, the Christians, regarding it as a great

calamity, left no stone unturned in the attempt to rescue him.

Then, when they found this impossible, they looked after his wants

in every other respect with unremitting zeal ([Greek: ou parergôs

alla sun spoudê]). And from early dawn old women, widows, and

orphan children, might be seen waiting about the doors of the

prison; while their officers ([Greek: hoi en telei autôn])

succeeded, by bribing the keepers, in passing the night inside with

him. Then various meals were brought in, and religious discourses

were held between them, and this excellent Peregrinus (for he still

bore this name) was entitled a new Socrates by them. Moreover,

there came from certain cities in Asia deputies sent by the

Christian communities to assist and advise and console the man.

Indeed they show incredible despatch, when any matter of the kind

is undertaken as a public concern; for, in short, they spare

nothing. And so large sums of money came to Peregrinus at that time

from them, on the plea of his fetters, and he made no

inconsiderable revenue out of it.'

The singular correspondence in this narrative with the account of

Ignatius, combined with some striking coincidences of expression [77:1],

have led to the opinion that Lucian was acquainted with the Ignatian

history, if not with the Ignatian letters. For this view there is much

to be said; and, if it be true, the bearing of the fact on the

genuineness of the Ignatian literature is important, since Lucian was

born in Syria somewhere about A.D. 120, and lived much in Asia Minor. At

all events it is conclusive for the matter in hand, as showing that

Christian prisoners were treated in the very way described in these

epistles. The reception of delegates and the freedom of correspondence,

which have been the chief stumbling-blocks to modern criticism in the

Ignatian letters, appear quite as prominently in the heathen satirist's

account of Peregrinus [77:2].

In the light of these facts the language of Ignatius becomes quite

intelligible. He was placed under the custody of a maniple of soldiers.

These ten men would relieve guard in turns, the prisoner being always

bound to one or other of them day and night, according to the well-known

Roman usage, as illustrated by the case of St Paul. The martyr finds his

guards fierce and intractable as leopards. His fight with wild beasts,

he intimates, is not confined to the arena of the Flavian amphitheatre;

it has been going on continuously ever since he left Antioch. His

friends manage to secure him indulgences by offering bribes, but the

soldiers are exorbitant and irritating in the extreme [78:1]. The more

they receive, the more they exact. Their demands keep pace with his

exigencies. All this is natural, and it fully explains the language here

ascribed to Ignatius. A prisoner smarting under such treatment naturally

dwells on the dark side of the picture, without thinking how a critic,

writing in his study centuries afterwards, will interpret his

fragmentary and impulsive utterances. In short, we must treat Ignatius

as a man, and not as an automaton. Men will not talk mechanically, as

critics would have them talk.

(2) Having declared 'the whole story' to be 'absolutely incredible,' on

the grounds which I have just considered, our author continues [78:2]:--

'This conclusion, irresistible in itself, is, however, confirmed by

facts arrived at from a totally different point of view. It has

been demonstrated that Ignatius was not sent to Rome at all, but

suffered martyrdom in Antioch itself on the 20th December, A.D. 115

(^3), when he was condemned to be cast to wild beasts in the

amphitheatre, in consequence of the fanatical excitement produced

by the earthquake which took place on the 13th of that month (^4).'

The two foot-notes contain no justification of this very positive

statement, though so much depends upon it; but the reader is there

furnished with a number of references to modern critics. These

references have been analysed by Dr Westcott [79:1], with results very

similar to those which my analysis of the author's previous notes has

yielded. In some cases the writers express opinions directly opposed to

that for which they are quoted; in others they incline to views

irreconcilable with it; and in others they suspend judgment. When the

references are sifted, the sole residuum on which our author rests his

assurance is found to be a hypothesis of Volkmar [79:2], built upon a

statement of John Malalas, which I shall now proceed to examine. The

words of John Malalas are--

'The same king Trajan was residing in the same city (Antioch) when

the visitation of God (_i.e._ the earthquake) occurred. And at that

time the holy Ignatius, the bishop of the city of Antioch, was

martyred (or bore testimony, [Greek: emarturêse]) before him

([Greek: epi autou]); for he was exasperated against him, because

he reviled him.' [79:3]

The earthquake is stated by Malalas to have occurred on the 13th of

December, A.D. 115. On these statements, combined with the fact that the

day dedicated to St Ignatius at a later age was the 20th of December

[79:4], Volkmar builds his theory. It will be observed that the cause of

the martyr's death, as laid down by Volkmar, receives no countenance

from the story of Malalas, who gives a wholly different reason--the

irritating language used to the emperor.

Now this John Malalas lived not earlier than the latter half of the

sixth century, and possibly much later. His date therefore constitutes

no claim to a hearing. His statement moreover is directly opposed to the

concurrent testimony of the four or five preceding centuries, which,

without a dissentient voice, declare that Ignatius suffered at Rome.

This is the case with all the writers and interpolators of the Ignatian

letters, of whom the earliest is generally placed, even by those critics

who deny their genuineness, about the middle or in the latter half of

the second century. It is the case with two distinct martyrologies

[80:1], which, agreeing in little else, are united in sending the martyr

to Rome to die. It is the case necessarily with all those Fathers who

quote the Ignatian letters in any form as genuine, amongst whom are

Irenæus and Origen and Eusebius and Athanasius. It is the case with

Chrysostom, who, on the day of the martyr's festival, pronounces at

Antioch an elaborate panegyric on his illustrious predecessor in the see

[80:2]. It is the case with several other writers also, whom I need not

enumerate, all prior to Malalas.

But John Malalas, it is said, lived at Antioch. So did Chrysostom some

two centuries at least before him. So did Evagrius, who, if the earliest

date of Malalas be adopted, was his contemporary, and who, together with

all preceding authorities, places the martyrdom of Ignatius in Rome. If

therefore the testimony of Malalas deserves to be preferred to this

cloud of witnesses, it must be because he approves himself elsewhere as

a sober and trustworthy writer.

As a matter of fact however, his notices of early Christian history are,

almost without exception, demonstrably false or palpably fabulous

[80:3]. In the very paragraph which succeeds the sentence quoted, he

relates how Trajan had five Christian women burnt alive; the emperor

then mingled their ashes with the metal from which the vessels used for

the baths were cast; the bathers were seized with swooning-fits in

consequence; the vessels were again melted up; and out of the same metal

were erected five pillars in honour of the five martyrs by the emperor's

orders. These pillars, adds Malalas, stand in the bath to the present

day. As if this were not enough, he goes on to relate how Trajan made a

furnace and ordered any Christians, who desired, to throw themselves

into it--an injunction which was obeyed by many. Nor when he leaves the

domain of hagiology for that of chronology, is this author any more

trustworthy. For instance, he states that Manes first propounded his

doctrine in the reign of Nerva, and that Marcion still further

disseminated the Manichean heresy under Hadrian [81:1]. An anachronism

of a century or more is nothing to him.

We have seen by this time what authority suffices, in our author's

judgment, to 'demonstrate' a fact; and no more is necessary for my

purpose. But it may be worth while adding that the error of Malalas is

capable of easy explanation. He has probably misinterpreted some earlier

authority, whose language lent itself to misinterpretation. The words

[Greek: marturein, marturia], which were afterwards used especially of

martyrdom, had in the earlier ages a wider sense, including other modes

of witnessing to the faith: the expression [Greek: epi Traïanou] again

is ambiguous and might denote either 'during the reign of Trajan,' or

'in the presence of Trajan.' A blundering writer like Malalas might have

stumbled over either expression [81:2].

The objections of our author have thus been met and answered; and

difficulties which admit of this easy explanation cannot, I venture to

think, be held to have any real weight against even a small amount of

external testimony in favour of the Epistles. The external testimony

however is considerable in this case [81:3]. The Epistle of Polycarp,

which purports to have been written so soon after this journey of

Ignatius through Asia Minor that the circumstances of the martyr's death

were not fully known there, speaks of his letters in language which is

entirely applicable to the existing documents. Our author indeed

declares this Epistle also to be spurious. But Irenæus, the pupil of

Polycarp, bears testimony to the existence of such an Epistle; and I

pledge myself to answer in a subsequent paper the objections urged

against its genuineness by our author and others [82:1]. Besides this,

Irenæus, writing about A.D. 180-190, quotes a characteristic and

distinctive passage from the Epistle to the Romans, not indeed

mentioning Ignatius by name, but introducing the quotation as the words

of a member of the Christian brotherhood. And again, in the first half

of the next century Origen cites two passages from these letters,

ascribing them directly to Ignatius. I say nothing of the later and more

explicit references and quotations of Eusebius, important as these are

in themselves. Our author indeed seems to consider this amount of

testimony very insufficient. But even if we set Polycarp aside, it would

hardly be rash to say that the external evidence for at least two-thirds

of the remains of classical antiquity is inferior. We Christians are

constantly told that we must expect to have our records tested by the

same standards which are applied to other writings. This is exactly what

we desire, and what we do not get. It is not easy to imagine the havoc

which would ensue, if the critical principles of the Tübingen school and

their admirers were let loose on the classical literature of Greece and

Rome.

External testimony therefore leaves a very strong presumption in favour

of the genuineness of the Ignatian letters in one form or other; and

before rejecting them entirely, we are bound to show that internal

evidence furnishes really substantial and valid objections to their

authenticity. It is not sufficient, for instance, to allege that the

saint's desire for martyrdom, as exhibited in these Epistles, is

extravagant, because we have ample testimony for believing that such

extravagance (whether commendable or not) was highly characteristic of

the faith and zeal of the early Christians when tried by persecution.

Nor again, is it of any avail to produce some eccentricities of thought

or language, because there is no _a priori_ reason why St Ignatius

should not have indulged in such eccentricities.

Unless therefore really solid objections can be urged, we are bound by

all ordinary laws of literary evidence to accept as genuine at all

events the shortest form in which these Epistles are presented to us. In

other words, the Curetonian letters at least must be received. And as

these satisfy all the quotations and references of the second and third

centuries (though not those of Eusebius in the first half of the

fourth), perhaps not more is required by the external testimony. Against

the genuineness of these it may be presumed that our author has advanced

what he considered the strongest arguments which the case admits; and I

have answered them. I am quite aware that other objections have been

alleged by other critics; but it will be sufficient here to express a

conviction that these have no real force against even the slightest

external testimony, and to undertake to meet them if they are

reproduced. Thus all the supposed anachronisms have failed. Bochart, for

instance, was bold enough to maintain that the Ignatian Epistle to the

Romans could not have been written before the time of Constantine the

Great, because 'leopards' are mentioned in it, and the word was not

known until this late age. In reply to Bochart, Pearson and others

showed conclusively, by appealing (among other documents) to the

contemporary Acts of Martyrdom of Perpetua and Felicitas (who suffered

when Geta was Cæsar, about A.D. 202), that 'leopards' were so called

more than a century at least before Constantine, while they gave good

reasons for believing that the word was in use much earlier. I am able

to carry the direct evidence half a century farther back. The word

occurs in an early treatise of Galen (written about the middle of the

second century), without any indication that it was then a new or

unusual term. This passage, which (so far as I am aware) has been

hitherto overlooked, carries the use back to within some forty years, or

less, of the professed date of the Ignatian letters; and it must be

regarded as a mere accident that no earlier occurrence has been noticed

in the scanty remains of Greek and Roman literature which bridge over

the interval. Of the institution of episcopacy again, it is sufficient

to say that its prevalence in Asia Minor at this time, whatever may have

been the case elsewhere, can only be denied by rejecting a large amount

of direct and indirect evidence on this side of the question, and by

substituting in its place a mere hypothesis which rests on no basis of

historical fact.

On the other hand, the Epistles themselves are stamped with an

individuality of character which is a strong testimony to their

genuineness. The intensity of feeling and the ruggedness of expression

seem to bespeak a real living man. On this point however it is

impossible to dwell here; anyone who will take the pains to read these

Epistles continuously will be in a better position to form a judgment on

this evidence of style, than if he had been plied with many arguments.

But if the Curetonian letters are the genuine work of Ignatius, what

must we say of the Vossian? Were the additional portions, which are

contained in the latter but wanting in the former, also written by the

saint, or are they later interpolations and additions? This is a much

more difficult question.

As a first step towards answering this question, we may observe that

there is one very strong reason for believing that the Vossian letters

cannot have been written after the middle of the second century. The

argument from silence has been so often abused, that one is almost

afraid to employ it at all. Yet here it seems to have a real value. The

writer of these letters, whoever he was, is evidently an orthodox

Catholic Christian, and at the same time a strong controversialist. It

is therefore a striking fact that he is altogether silent on the main

controversies which agitated the Church, and more especially the Church

of Asia Minor, in the middle and latter half of the second century.

There is not a word about Montanism or about the Paschal controversy. It

is difficult to believe that such a writer could have kept clear of

these 'burning' questions, if he had lived in the midst of them. Even

though his sense of historical propriety might have preserved him from

language involving a positive anachronism, he would have taken a

distinct side, and would have made his meaning clear by indirect means.

Again, there is nothing at all bearing on the great Gnostic heresies of

this age. The doctrines of the Marcionites, of the Valentinians, even of

the Basilideans (though Basilides flourished under Hadrian), are not

touched. On the contrary, the writer several times uses language which

an orthodox churchman, writing in the second half of the second century

or later, would almost certainly have avoided. Among other expressions

he salutes the Church of the Trallians 'in the _pleroma_'--an expression

which could not escape the taint of heresy when once Valentinus had

promulgated his system, of which the pleroma was the centre. Nor again,

is it likely that such a writer would have indulged in expressions

which, however innocent in themselves, would seem very distinctly to

countenance the Gnostic doctrine of the inherent evil of matter, as for

instance, where he says that he has not in him any 'matter-loving

([Greek: philoülon]) fire (of passion),' [85:1] and the like. The

bearing of these facts has (so far as I remember) been overlooked, and

yet it is highly important.

Essays on the work entitled "Supernatural Religion" · 第 6 / 30 段