THE FIRST PERSECUTION.
The Population of Rome.――The Reign of Tiberius Cæsar.――His
Character and Death.――The Proposal to deify Jesus.――Caligula.
――His Crimes, and the Earthly Retribution.――Nero and his Career.
――His Crimes and Death.――The Spirit of the Gospel.――Sufferings
of the Christians.――Testimony of Tacitus.――Testimony of
Chrysostom.――Panic in Rome.――The Sins and Sorrows of weary
Centuries.――Noble Sentiments of the Bishop of Rome.
THE inspired narrative of Luke, contained in the Acts of the Apostles,
brings down the history of Christianity through a period of thirty
years after the ascension of our Saviour,――to A.D. 62. The subsequent
career of the apostle Paul is involved in much obscurity. It is
generally supposed, from allusions in his letters, that he was soon
brought to trial, and acquitted, in the year of our Lord 63. From
Rome he probably returned to Jerusalem, and thence visited Ephesus,
Laodicea, and Colosse. Afterwards he returned to Rome by the way of
Troas, Philippi, and Corinth. Rome presented to him the widest and most
important field of labor, and on that account he probably decided to
spend the remainder of his life there; and there he suffered martyrdom
(it is supposed, in the year of our Lord 65), as will be related in
subsequent pages.
But it is necessary for us now to retrace our steps a little, and to
turn back a few leaves of the pages of history. Luke, in his narrative,
has conducted Paul to Rome, then proud mistress of the world,
containing a population variously estimated from two to four millions.
Rome was the central and apparently impregnable fortress of pagan
superstition; and it was in Rome, in deadly struggle with her wicked
emperors and her degraded populace, that some of the greatest victories
of Christianity were won. The strife between paganism and the religion
of Jesus continued for centuries, and developed heroism on the part of
the Christians to which no parallel can be found in secular annals.
It will be remembered, that, when Jesus was crucified as a malefactor
upon Mount Calvary,――the sacrificial Lamb of God, bearing in his
own wonderful person, as both God and man, the mysterious burden
of the world’s atonement,――Tiberius Cæsar, the adopted son and
heir of Octavius Cæsar, or Cæsar the August, sat upon the imperial
throne. It was in the eighteenth year of the reign of Tiberius
that Jesus was crucified. This event, the crucifixion of the Son of
God,――probably the most wonderful which has occurred during the annals
of eternity,――produced no impression whatever; was unknown in the
distant palaces of Rome.
The death of Tiberius strikingly illustrates the depravity of the
times. He had retired to the Island of Capreæ, where, in a palace
of the most luxurious surroundings, he surrendered himself to almost
every conceivable indulgence of sin. For six years he remained there,
while conspiracies and revolts agitated the empire. There was a young
man in his suite by the name of Caligula, son of the renowned general
Germanicus, whom Tiberius, through jealousy, had put to death.
Caligula was one of the vilest of the vile. He ingratiated himself
in the favor of the tyrant by pandering to all his wickedness, and by
the most sycophantic adulation. At length, the death-hour of Tiberius
tolled. Remorse, with scorpion-lashes, hovered over his dying-bed. He
resorted to every expedient to repel reflection, and to close his eyes
against the approach of the king of terrors. In pursuit of health, he
had left Capreæ, and was at Misenum, near Naples. Caligula had, with
many other courtiers, accompanied him.
The wretched emperor, reclining upon his couch, was taken with a
fainting-fit. His physician, feeling his pulse, said, “His life is
ebbing fast.” All thought him dying. The courtiers abandoned the
powerless monarch, who had no longer any favors to grant, and gathered
tumultuously with their congratulations around Caligula, declaring
him to be emperor. In the midst of their hilarity, Tiberius, to the
consternation of all, revived; but he was weak and helpless, and
could be easily put out of the way. A few of the courtiers entered his
chamber, and pressed a pillow upon his face; and, after a brief and
feeble struggle, the smothered king lay still in death. Caligula, who
was, if possible, still more infamous than Tiberius, was now decorated
with the imperial purple.
It is stated by Justin and other early writers, that Pontius Pilate,
after the crucifixion of Christ, wrote to the Emperor Tiberius, giving
an account of his death, his resurrection, and of the miracles which
he had performed; and that Tiberius proposed to the Roman senate that
Jesus should be recognized as one of the gods, and that his statue
should be placed in a niche in one of the temples of paganism. The
senate, for some unexplained reason, did not accede to this request.
Caligula, elated by his accession to sovereign power, surrendered
himself to the uncontrolled dominion of lusts and passions, which had
already been rendered furious and untamable by long years of indulgence.
It is difficult to account for the cruel and senseless atrocities
perpetrated by this monster upon any other supposition than that he was
a madman, or that fiends had taken possession of his person.
He erected a temple of gold; placed in it a statue of himself, which
he ordered to be dressed every day in clothes similar to those which he
should that day wear; and, declaring himself to be a god, constrained
his subjects to worship his statue with divine honors. The degraded
populace, without religion, without any moral principle, hesitated not
to bow in adoration before this image of the most contemptible of men.
The most rare delicacies which money could purchase were offered in
sacrifice at his shrine. His wife, and even his horse, were ordained
as priests to officiate in his temple. The insane luxury which he
displayed surpassed all that had hitherto been known. His baths were
composed of the most costly liquids. His table service was of solid
gold. Even in his sauces he had jewels dissolved, that they might be
more costly. He built a stable of marble for his favorite horse, and
fed him with gilded oats from a manger of ivory.
The cruelty of this idiotic monster was equal to his folly. Senators,
untried, uncondemned, were wantonly murdered at his bidding. His
victims were thrown into the dens of half-famished lions and tigers
to be devoured alive. It was one of the entertainments of his meals to
place persons upon the rack, that he might be amused by their shrieks,
and entertained by their convulsions.
The guilty, cowardly wretch was ever trembling in every nerve in
apprehension of assassination. Suspecting one of the most beautiful
women of his court of being engaged in a conspiracy against him, he
placed her upon the rack to enforce confession, and dislocated every
joint in her body. Her shrieks and mutilation roused the courtiers
to the energies of despair. Cherea, a Roman senator, approached the
emperor, and, plunging a dagger into his heart, exclaimed, “Tyrant,
think of this!”
Caligula fell dead. He was but twenty-nine years of age, and had
reigned but four years. To such men, how awful the declaration of
Christianity!――“All that are in the graves shall hear His voice, and
shall come forth,――they that have done good, unto the resurrection of
life; and they that have done evil, unto the resurrection of damnation.”
Anarchy succeeded. As some drunken Roman soldiers were rioting through
the palace, they found a half-crazed old man named Claudius, an uncle
of Caligula, hidden behind a pile of lumber in the garret. They seized
him, and partly in jest, and partly in earnest, proclaimed him emperor.
The army took up the joke, and ratified the choice. In solid phalanx,
with banners, shoutings, and bugle-peals, they presented him to the
trembling senate, and compelled his enthronement.
In Claudius, the worst of conceivable bad elements were combined: he
united the stupidity of the idiot with the ferocity of the demon. He
commenced his reign about the forty-sixth year of the Christian era.
Britain, then inhabited by barbaric tribes, invited invasion. Claudius
sent an army to march through Gaul, and, crossing the channel, to plant
the banners of the empire on those distant shores. Many and bloody were
the battles; but the Roman legions were triumphant.
Claudius was so elated with the conquest, that he in person repaired
to Britain to receive the homage of the savage inhabitants of the
conquered isle. Still the conquest was very imperfect. But a few of the
tribes had been vanquished. Large portions of the island still remained
under the sway of their bold and indomitable chieftains. Thirty battles
were subsequently fought, and several years of incessant conflict
passed, before Britain was fairly reduced to the condition of a Roman
province.
Messalina, the wife of Claudius, has attained the unenviable
notoriety of having been the worst, the most shameless woman earth
has ever known. The renown of her profligacy has survived the lapse of
eighteen centuries. The story of her life can now never be told: modern
civilization would not endure the recital. The ladies of her court were
compelled, under penalty of torture and death, publicly to practise
the same enormities in which she rioted. Her brutal husband was utterly
regardless of the infamy of her life. At length, becoming weary of her,
he connived with another for her assassination.
Claudius, having murdered Messalina, married Agrippina. She had
already given birth to the monster Nero. For a short time, she ruled
her imbecile husband with a rod of iron. Three wives had preceded
her. One day, Claudius, in his cups, imprudently declared that it was
his fate to be tormented with bad wives, and to be their executioner.
Agrippina weighed the words. Claudius loved mushrooms. Agrippina
prepared for him a delicious dish, sprinkled poison upon it, and with
her own loving hands presented it to her spouse. She had the pleasure
of seeing him fall and die in convulsions at her feet.
Such was life in the palaces of Rome at the time of the apostles. Such
was the world that Jesus came to redeem. The question is sometimes
asked, whether humanity is advancing or retrograding in moral character.
No one familiar with the history of past ages will ask that question.
Manifold as are the evils in many of the courts of Europe at the
present time, most of them are as far in advance of ancient Rome,
in all that constitutes integrity and virtue, as is the most refined
Christian family in advance of the most godless and degraded.
Nero, a lad of seventeen, whom Claudius had adopted as his heir,
succeeded to the throne. It is said, that, at the commencement of his
reign, he gave indications of a humane spirit; but this period was
so short as scarcely to deserve notice. The character and career of
Nero were such, that, from that day to this, the ears of mankind have
tingled with the recital of the outrages he inflicted upon humanity.
The sceptre of the world was placed in the hands of this boy in
the year of our Lord 54. The knowledge of the doctrines of Jesus
had already reached Rome. Paul was there, though in chains, boldly
preaching the religion of Jesus of Nazareth.
“There is one God, and one only,” said Jesus; “and all idols are vanity
and a lie.”
“All mankind are brethren,” said Jesus; “and God commands that every
man should love his brother as himself.”
“The divine benediction,” said Jesus, “rests upon the lowly in
spirit, the pure in heart; upon the peacemakers; upon those who visit
the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and who practise every
thing that is true and lovely and of good report. Repent of sin, seek
pardon through faith in a Saviour who has died to atone for your sins,
commence a life of devotion to the glory of God and to the welfare of
your brother-man, and death shall introduce you to realms of honor,
glory, and immortality.”
“God is no respecter of persons,” said Jesus. “The monarch and the
slave stand alike at his tribunal. The wicked, and those who fear not
God, shall be cast into hell. The smoke of their torment ascendeth for
ever and ever.”
These offers of salvation to all who would repent and commence the
Christlike life, these good news and glad tidings, were joyfully
accepted by hundreds and by thousands of the poor and the oppressed and
the world-weary; but the denunciations of divine wrath upon those who,
by their enormities, were converting this world into a realm of woe,
fell appallingly upon the ears of proud and unrelenting oppressors.
The teachings of Jesus were thus hateful to Nero. He hated that
religion which condemned him. He hated those who preached it. He
deliberately determined to blot out that religion from the world; to
silence in death every tongue that proclaimed it. It was apparently an
easy task to do this. Nero was monarch of the world. A resistless army
moved unquestioning at his bidding. All power was apparently in his
hands. He was a man, for the times, highly educated. He was endowed
with intellectual shrewdness as well as physical energy, and could
bring public opinion to bear against the Christians, while he assailed
them with the axe of the headsman and the flames of martyrdom.
The Christians were few and feeble. To turn against them popular
indignation, atrocious libels were fabricated. The Christians were
in the habit of taking their infants to church to be baptized. Pagan
slanderers affirmed that they were taken there to be offered in bloody
sacrifice. The Christians often met to celebrate the sacrament of the
Lord’s Supper: they ate of that bread which represented the body of
Jesus broken for us; they drank of that wine emblematic of the blood
of Jesus, shed for our sins. The pagans declared that the Christians
were cannibals; that they secretly met in midnight feasts, and, having
murdered a man, ate his flesh, and drank his blood.
Thus a terrible prejudice was created against the Christians. Many
were deceived by these cruel slanders who would possibly have joined
the disciples had they known the truth. Thus shrewdly Nero prepared the
public mind for the outrages he was about to inflict upon those whom he
had doomed to destruction. Even Tacitus, the renowned Roman historian,
a man of much candor, was manifestly under the influence of these gross
libels. In the following terms, he describes the first persecution of
the Christians at Rome by Nero:――
“Christ, the founder of that name, was put to death as a criminal by
Pontius Pilate, procurator of Judæa, in the reign of Tiberius. But the
pernicious superstition, repressed for a time, broke out again, not
only through Judæa, where the mischief originated, but through the city
of Rome also, whither all things horrible and disgraceful flow from
all quarters as to a common receptacle, and where they are encouraged.
Accordingly, first those were seized who confessed that they were
Christians; next, on their information, a vast multitude were convicted,
not so much on the charge of burning the city, as of hating the human
race.
“And in their deaths they were made the subject of sport; for they
were covered with skins of wild beasts, and worried to death by dogs,
or nailed to crosses, or set fire to, and, when day declined, burned
to serve for nocturnal lights. Nero offered his own gardens for that
spectacle, and exhibited a circensian game, indiscriminately mingling
with the common people in the habit of a charioteer, or else standing
in his chariot. Whence a feeling of compassion rose towards the
sufferers, though guilty, and deserving to be made examples of by
capital punishment, because they seem not to be cut off for the public
good, but victims to the ferocity of one man.”[167]
It will be noticed in the above paragraph that Tacitus alludes to a
charge which Nero brought against the Christians, of having set fire
to the city of Rome. One day, some one repeated in conversation, in
presence of the tyrant, the line, “When I am dead, let fire devour the
world.” Nero replied, “It shall be said, ‘When I am living, let fire
devour the world.’”
Rome then contained, according to the general estimate, about four
million inhabitants. They were crowded together in narrow, winding
streets. Nero ordered his emissaries to apply the torch in various
sections of the city. The wind was fresh; the buildings, which
were mostly of wood, were dry; the flames fierce. Nero ascended a
neighboring tower to view the cruel, sublime, awful spectacle. Earth
never witnessed such a scene before, has never since. For nine days
and nights the flames raged in quenchless fury. Uncounted multitudes,
caught in the narrow streets, perished miserably. The most magnificent
specimens of architecture and priceless works of art were consumed.
The motives which led to this diabolical deed were probably complex.
It is said that Nero, satiated with every conceivable indulgence,
longed for some new excitement. The spectacle of the dwellings of four
millions of people in flames; the frenzy, the dismay, the runnings to
and fro, of the perishing millions,――men, women, and children; the rush
and roar of the conflagration, flashing in billowy flames by night to
the clouds,――all combined to present a spectacle such as mortal eye had
never gazed upon before.
The estimated population of the Roman empire at this time was about
a hundred and fifty millions. By the assessment of enormous taxes
upon these millions, funds could easily be raised to rebuild Rome in
hitherto unimagined splendor. It is said that this ambition was one of
the motives which inspired Nero to his infamous deed.
Nero commenced with great energy, levying taxes, and rebuilding the
city; but the cry of the starving, houseless millions could not be
stifled. The tyrant was alarmed. To shield himself from obloquy, he
accused the Christians of the crime, and visited them with the most
terrible retribution.
“Not all the relief,” writes Tacitus, “that could come from man, not
all the bounties that the prince could bestow, nor all the atonements
which could be presented to the gods, availed to relieve Nero from the
infamy of being believed to have ordered the conflagration. Hence, to
suppress the rumor, he falsely charged with the guilt, and punished
with the most exquisite tortures, the persons called Christians.”
To enter into the detail of the outrages to which the Christians were
exposed would but harrow the feelings of the reader. Demoniac ingenuity
was employed in inflicting the most revolting and terrible suffering;
while at the same time the victims were so disguised, sewed up in skins
of wild beasts, or wrapped in tarred sheets, as to deprive them of all
sympathy, and expose them to the derision of the brutal mob. Tender
Christian maidens passed through ordeals of exposure, suffering, and
death, too dreadful for us, in these modern days, even to contemplate.
That divine support which Christ promised to his followers in these
predicted hours of persecution sustained them. The imagination cannot
conceive of greater cruelty than Nero inflicted upon these disciples
of Jesus: and yet in death they came off more than conquerors; and it
proved then emphatically true, that “the blood of the martyrs was the
seed of the Church.”
It was during this persecution by Nero that Paul suffered martyrdom at
Rome. He had been there a prisoner in chains for some years. With his
accustomed power and success, he had preached the gospel of Jesus; and
those pure doctrines had gained access even to the palace of the Cæsars.
A large and flourishing church had been gathered in that city, which in
corruption equalled, even if it did not outvie, Sodom and Gomorrah. On
no page of Holy Writ does the light of inspiration beam more brightly
than in Paul’s Epistle to the Church at Rome.
Chrysostom says, that a cup-bearer of Nero, and one of the most
distinguished females of his court, became, through the preaching
of Paul, disciples of Jesus, and recoiled from the sin and the shame
everywhere around them. This so enraged the tyrant, that he ordered
Paul immediately to be beheaded.
It is one of the legends of the Romish Church, founded upon evidence
which has not generally been entirely satisfactory to Protestants, that
the apostle Peter visited Rome, where he was arrested, and imprisoned
with Paul. It is said that the two apostles were incarcerated together
in the prison of Mamertin, which was at the foot of the Capitoline
Hill, and which was constructed of damp and gloomy underground vaults,
extensive in their range, and crowded with the victims of tyranny. Two
of the prison-guards and forty-seven of the prisoners, impressed by
the character and by the teachings of these holy men, became converts.
Peter baptized them. Nero ordered both of the apostles to be executed.
Their death took place, according to the declaration of the Catholic
fathers, on the same day,――the 29th of June, A.D. 67. St. Paul, being
a Roman citizen, could not be subjected to the ignominy of crucifixion:
he was beheaded. St. Peter, being a Jew, was regarded as a vile person,
and doomed to the cross. Paul was led a distance of three miles from
the city to a place called the Fountain of Salvienne, where the block
of the executioner awaited him. On the way, forgetful of self, he
preached the gospel of Jesus to the soldiers who guarded him. Three
of them became converts, and soon after suffered martyrdom.
St. Peter was led across the Tiber to the quarter inhabited by the
Jews, and was crucified on the top of Mount Janiculum. As they were
preparing to nail him to the cross in the ordinary manner, he said that
“he did not merit to be treated as was his Master,” and implored them
to crucify him with his head downwards. His wish was granted.[168]
Nero had a half-brother, Britannicus, the son of Claudius and his own
mother Agrippina. Legitimately, he was entitled to the throne rather
than Nero. The tyrant became jealous of Britannicus. He was invited,
with his mother and his sister Octavia, to a supper in the palace of
Nero. A goblet of poisoned wine was placed before him: he drank, fell
into convulsions, and died in the arms of his mother. Nero reclined
listlessly upon a sofa, and, as he witnessed his agonizing convulsions,
said “he did not think much was the matter with Britannicus; that
it was probably merely a fainting-fit.” When it appeared that the
prince was really dead, he ordered the body to be immediately removed
and burned; while the entertainment went on undisturbed. It was a
tempestuous night. Floods of rain were falling, and a tornado swept
the city, as the funeral-pyre of the young prince blazed in the Campus
Martius.
“The appointments for his burial,” writes Tacitus, “had been prepared
beforehand. His ashes were entombed in the Campus Martius during such
tempestuous rains, that the populace believed them to be denunciations
of the wrath of the gods against the deed. Nero, by an edict, justified
the hurrying of the obsequies, alleging that it was an institution of
their ancestors to withdraw from the sight such as died prematurely,
and not to lengthen the solemnity by encomiums and processions.”
The vast estates of Britannicus, consisting of palaces, villas, and
other property, were seized by Nero, and divided among his partisans
to purchase their support.
Agrippina understood full well that Britannicus had been poisoned by
his brother Nero; but she feigned to be deceived, and to believe that
he died accidentally in a fit. Agrippina was another Messalina. She
hated Nero, and determined to secure his death. Nero hated her, and
was plotting day and night how he might kill her, and yet not expose
himself to the charge of being the murderer of his mother. They both
affected the most cordial relations in their social intercourse, and
addressed each other in the most endearing epithets.
Agrippina was immensely rich, had numerous and powerful partisans,
and had formed the plan of effecting the assassination of Nero, and
of placing upon the throne one of her favorites, Rubellius Plautus.
Nero, whose suspicions were ever active, received some intimations of
this plan. The following ingenious device he adopted to rid himself of
his mother: He caused a vessel to be constructed with more than regal
splendor, but so arranged, that, by the withdrawal of a few bolts, the
heavy canopy which overhung the royal couch would fall with a fatal
crash; and at the same time planks would give way, which would cause
the vessel immediately to founder.
Agrippina was residing at her magnificent country-seat at Antium, near
Rome. Nero invited his mother to an entertainment, such as only a Roman
emperor could provide, at Baiæ, near Naples. It is probable that the
mother was somewhat deceived by the marvellous affection manifested for
her by her son. She accepted his invitation. She was conveyed to Baiæ
in a sedan. Nero met her upon her approach, embraced her affectionately,
and led her to the villa of Bauli, washed by the sea, where her
reception was as magnificent as imperial wealth and power could give.
Agrippina was assigned a seat by the side of her son. He loaded her
with caresses, amused her with anecdotes, and honored her by pretending
to seek her counsel upon the most serious affairs of state.
It was a late hour when the banquet came to a close. Nero conducted
his mother to the beach, and assisted her into the imperial barge,
which, driven by three banks of oars, was appointed to convey her to
Antium. It was a brilliant night. The unclouded sky was resplendent
with stars, while not a breath of wind rippled the polished surface
of the sea. With lusty sinews the well-trained seamen pushed the barge
from the shore. The hired assassins of Nero on board had made all the
arrangements for the destruction of the empress, her attendants, and
the seamen; while precautions had been adopted for their own escape.
They had proceeded but a short distance on their voyage, when suddenly
the heavy-laden imperial canopy fell, with such force as to crush to
death one of the female attendants who reclined at Agrippina’s feet;
but it so happened that some of the timbers fell in such a way as to
protect Agrippina from serious harm, though she was slightly wounded.
Instantly apprehending the treachery of her son, she had sufficient
presence of mind to remain perfectly quiet. One of her maids, who
was thrown into the sea, in her drowning terror cried out that she
was Agrippina, and implored of them to save the mother of the prince.
The assassins smote her upon the head with their oars and boat-poles,
and she sank senseless in the waves. The barge soon foundered; but
Agrippina floated off on a portion of the wreck. The agents of Nero,
supposing they had effected their object, swam to the shore.
Agrippina, in the early dawn, was picked up by a small boat, and
conveyed to her villa at Antium. Shrewdly she pretended to regard
the adventure as an accident. She despatched a courier to inform her
affectionate son, that, through the mercy of the gods, she had escaped
fearful peril. She entreated him not to be needlessly alarmed, as
she had received but a slight wound, and would probably soon be quite
restored.
Nero was thunderstruck. He knew his mother too well to imagine that she
was blind to the stratagem from which she had so wonderfully escaped.
He felt assured that she would at once resort to some desperate
measures of retaliation and of self-defence. Not a moment was to be
lost. He despatched a band of assassins to Antium to break into the
apartment of his mother, and with their daggers immediately to secure
her death beyond all question.
The armed band reached the villa late at night, burst open the gates,
and advanced rapidly to the chamber where the empress had retired to
her bed. All the slaves encountered on the way were seized. In the
chamber of Agrippina a dim light was burning, and one maid was in
attendance. The assassins surrounded the bed. The leader struck her a
heavy blow on the head with a club: the rest plunged their daggers into
her heart. She slept in death, the guilty mother of a demoniac son.
“In these particulars,” writes Tacitus, “authors are unanimous; but
as to whether Nero surveyed the breathless body of his mother, and
applauded its beauty, there are those who have affirmed it, and those
who deny it.”
After the murder of Agrippina, which was so openly perpetrated as
to render it vain to attempt any disguise, Nero, either consumed by
remorse or distracted by terror, retired to Naples. It is said that
his appearance and movements indicated that he was the victim of utter
misery; while at the same time his demoniac malice blazed forth more
luridly than ever. He sent a communication to the senate, stating that
he had caused the death of his mother because she was plotting his
assassination. His sister Octavia and his wife Poppæa soon fell victims
to his insane vengeance: the one was placed in a vapor-bath, had her
veins opened in every joint, and then had her head cut off; the other
perished from a brutal kick.
Immediately there ensued a series of executions and assassinations
of the most illustrious men of Rome, who were accused of conspiring
against the tyrant. Tacitus gives the details of many of these
atrocities. The recital would be but wearisome and revolting to the
reader.
Rome was stricken with terror. No one was safe from either the poisoned
cup, the dagger, or the headsman’s axe. At length, human nature, even
unspeakably corrupt as it had become in Rome, could endure the monster
no longer. Servius Galba, seventy-two years of age, was governor of
Spain. He was a man of unusual virtues for those times, was of pensive,
thoughtful temperament, and endued with courage which no peril could
intimidate. Placing himself at the head of his devoted legions, he
openly proclaimed war against the tyrant, and commenced a march upon
Rome for his dethronement. The tidings outstripped the rapid movements
of his troops, and garrison after garrison unfurled the banners of
revolt.
One night, Nero, dressed in woman’s clothes, was in one of the palaces
of Rome, surrounded by his boon companions, male and female, indulging
in the most loathsome orgies, when a great uproar was heard in the
streets. A messenger was sent to ascertain the cause. He returned with
the appalling tidings, that Galba, at the head of an avenging army,
was marching rapidly upon Rome; that insurrection had broken out in the
streets; and that a countless mob, breathing threatenings and slaughter,
were surging toward the palace.
The wretched tyrant, as cowardly as he was infamous, was struck with
dismay. He sprang from the table so suddenly as to overturn it, dashing
the most costly vases in fragments upon the floor. Beating his forehead
like a madman, he cried out, “I am ruined, I am ruined!” and called
for a cup of poison. Suicide was the common resort of the cowardly,
in those days, in their hours of wretchedness. Nero took the poisoned
cup, but dared not drink it. He called for a dagger, and examined its
polished point, but had not sufficient nerve to press it to his heart.
He then rushed from the palace in his woman’s robes, with his long hair
fluttering in the wind. Thus disguised, he almost flew through the dark
and narrow streets, intending to plunge into the Tiber. As he reached
the bank, and gazed upon its gloomy waves, again his courage failed.
Several of his companions had accompanied him. One of them suggested
that he should flee to a country-seat about three miles from Rome, and
there conceal himself. Insane with terror, bareheaded, in his shameful
garb, he covered his face with a handkerchief, leaped upon a horse,
and succeeded, through a thousand perils, in gaining his retreat. Just
before he reached the villa, some alarm so frightened him, that he
leaped from his horse, and plunged into a thicket by the roadside.
Through briers and thorns, with torn clothes and lacerated flesh, he
reached the insecure asylum he sought.
In the mean time, the Roman senate had hurriedly assembled. Emboldened
by the insurrection, and by the approach of Galba, they passed a decree,
declaring Nero to be the enemy of his country, and dooming him to death
_more majorum_; i.e., according to ancient custom. Some one of Nero’s
companions brought him the tidings in his hiding-place. Pallid and
trembling, he inquired, “And what is death _more majorum_?” The
appalling reply was, “It is to be stripped naked, to have the head
fastened in the pillory, and thus to be scourged to death.”
The monster who had amused himself in witnessing the tortures of others
recoiled with horror from this dreadful infliction. Seizing a dagger,
he again endeavored to nerve himself to plunge it into his heart. A
prick from its sharp point was all that he could summon resolution to
inflict. He threw the dagger aside, and groaned in terror. Again he
strove to talk himself into courage.
“Ought Nero,” said he, “to be afraid? Shall the emperor be a coward?
No! Let me die courageously.”
Again he grasped the dagger, and anxiously examined its keen edge; and
again he threw it aside with a groan of despair.
Just then the clatter of horsemen was heard, and a party of dragoons
was seen approaching. His retreat was discovered, and in a few moments
Nero would be helpless in the hands of his enemies: then there would
be no possible escape from the ignominious and agonizing death. In the
delirium of despair, he ordered a freedman to hold a sharp sword, so
that he might throw himself violently against it. He thus succeeded
in severing the jugular vein, and his life-blood spouted forth. As he
sank upon the ground, the soldiers came up. He looked at them with a
malignant scowl; and, saying “You’re too late!” he died.
Thus perished this monster of depravity. It is said that this event
took place on the 19th of June, A.D. 68. Many Christians at the time
supposed Nero to be the antichrist. This wretch had reigned thirteen
years, and died in the thirty-second year of his age. In view of his
career, the only solution upon which the mind can repose is found in
the declaration of Scripture, “After death cometh the judgment.”
These events occurred eighteen hundred years ago. During the long
and weary centuries which have since elapsed, what a spectacle has
this world almost constantly presented to the eye of God! The billows
of war have, with scarcely any intermission, surged over the nations,
consigning countless millions to bloody graves. Pestilence and famine
have ever followed in the train of armies, creating an amount of
misery which no human arithmetic can ever gauge. Slavery, intemperance,
domestic discord, ungovernable passions, the tyranny of kings, the
oppression of the rich and powerful, and the countless forms in which
man has trampled upon his feebler brother-man, have made this world
indeed a vale of tears. The student of history is appalled in view
of the woes which, century after century, man has visited upon his
fellow-man. For all this there is and can be no remedy but in the
religion of Jesus. Here is the panacea for nearly every earthly woe.
Here, and here only, is there hope for the world.
Against this almost universal corruption the Christians were struggling.
The conflict seemed hopeless. In this moral warfare, the only weapon
they had to wield was the simple preaching of the gospel of Christ. But
that gospel, by its wonderful triumphs, has proved itself to be “the
wisdom of God and the power of God to salvation.” It is refreshing to
read a letter which Clement, the bishop of Rome, wrote to the church at
Corinth about this time. We can quote but one paragraph:――
“Let us endeavor to be of the number of those who hope to share in the
promises of God. And how shall we accomplish this, my dear brethren?
If our minds are established in the faith; if we seek in all things to
please God; if we bring ourselves in entire accord with his holy will;
if we follow the paths of truth, renouncing all injustice, avarice,
contention, anger, deceptions, complainings, impiety, pride, vanity,
ambition,――then, my dear brothers, we shall be in the path which
conducts us to Jesus Christ our Saviour. Let the strong help the feeble,
and let the feeble respect the strong. Let the rich give to the poor,
and let the poor thank God that he has given to the rich the means of
supplying their wants. He who has created us has introduced us into
this world, which he has so richly prepared for our abode. Having
received from him so many favors, we ought to thank him for all things.
To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.”
Such was the spirit of the religion of Jesus. To banish this gospel
from the world, imperial Rome often combined all its energies.