MARTYRDOM.
The Martyrdom of Ignatius.――Death of Trajan.――Succession of Adrian.
――Infidel Assaults.――Celsus.――The Apology of Quadrat.――The
Martyrdom of Symphorose and her Sons.――Character and Death of
Adrian.――Antoninus.――Conversion of Justin Martyr.――His Apology.
――Marcus Aurelius.――Hostility of the Populace.――The Martyrdom of
Polycarp.
AT the commencement of the second century, Ignatius was bishop or
pastor of the church in Antioch, in Syria. He had occupied the post
for forty years, and had obtained a very high reputation for devout
character and Christian zeal. The Emperor Trajan, who had issued
orders throughout the empire, that those refusing to worship the pagan
gods, and persisting in Christianity, should be put to death, passing
with his victorious army from the banks of the Danube to combat the
barbarians of the East, stopped for a time at Antioch. Ignatius was
brought before him, charged with the crime of being a Christian. The
emperor sternly inquired of him, “Why do you disobey our orders, and
influence others to ruin themselves by doing the same?”
Ignatius replied, “I must be obedient to God, whom I bear in my heart.”
“Who is the God,” asked Trajan, “whom you bear in your heart?”
“Jesus Christ,” was the reply.
“And do you not believe that we bear in our hearts those gods who
combat with us against our enemies?” was the question of Trajan.
The Christian bishop boldly replied, “You deceive yourself in calling
the demons of the Gentiles gods. There is but one God, who has made
the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all which they contain; and
there is but one Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, to whose kingdom
I aspire.”
Trajan replied, “Do you speak of him who was crucified under Pontius
Pilate?”
“Yes,” responded Ignatius: “he has made atonement for my sins, and has
put all the malice of Satan under their feet who carry him in their
hearts.”
“Do you, then, carry in your heart him who was crucified?”
“I do,” was the response; “for it is written, ‘I will dwell in them,
and walk with them.’”
Trajan was irritated, and angrily replied, “Since Ignatius confesses
that he carries in his heart him that was crucified, we command that
he be conveyed in chains, under a guard of soldiers, to Rome, there to
be thrown to the beasts, for the entertainment of the people.”
The venerable bishop was hurried by his guard to Seleucia. There
he took ship for Smyrna. In this city he had an interview with the
illustrious Christian pastor Polycarp, who was soon to follow him in
the path to martyrdom. From Smyrna he was conveyed to Troas, and thence
to Neapolis. Having found a ship in one of the seaports of the Adriatic,
he sailed to Ostia, near Rome. Here he was met by a large number of
Christians, who were overwhelmed with grief in view of his cruel and
inevitable doom. Ignatius, however, who was cheerful, and even happy,
as he looked forward to his approaching martyrdom, consoled them with
touching words of love and affection. The hour for the sacrifice came.
The Coliseum was crowded with the jeering multitude, filling all its
vast expanse, to enjoy the spectacle. The venerable bishop was placed
in the centre of the arena.
As the iron doors of the dens were opened, a large number of ferocious
wild beasts, gaunt with famine, with loud roarings, and lashing their
sides with rage, rushed into the enclosure. Sharp and short was the
agony which this benevolent disciple of Jesus was called to endure.
The famished beasts, lions and tigers, leaped upon him; and scarcely
a moment elapsed ere he was torn limb from limb, and devoured. Nothing
remained but one or two of the larger bones. A hundred thousand pagans
raised a shout of applause; but louder was the acclaim as clustering
angels gathered around the Christian who had been faithful unto death,
welcoming him to his heavenly home.
While these tragic scenes were transpiring in Rome, Trajan was pushing
his conquests on the distant shores of the Persian Gulf. He was seized
with sickness and pain; and it was soon evident that the hour of his
death was near at hand. In a state of extreme dejection and languor, he
bade adieu to the army, and by short stages endeavored to reach Rome.
But inexorable Death could not be appeased. He had advanced only as far
as Cilicia when he sank into the grave. His guilty spirit ascended to
that tribunal to which he had so cruelly sent Ignatius before him.
Trajan, on leaving the Persian Gulf, had intrusted the command of his
army to his nephew Adrian, a man of much military renown. The army
proclaimed him emperor. The senate at Rome ratified the appointment.
Adrian was kind to his friends, demoniacal to his enemies. He had many
virtues, and many terrible vices.
Christianity was by this time very widely extended throughout the
Roman world. Many new sects sprang up, and fanatical and immoral
heresies arose. Hence the reputation of Christianity suffered severely.
All these religious adventurers, endeavoring to establish new sects,
many of them influenced by the worst of motives, assumed the name of
Christians. The extravagances which they taught, and the abominations
in which they indulged, in many places, caused the very name of
Christian to be regarded with contempt and odium. The pagans were by
no means disposed to discriminate between the true disciples of Jesus
and those miserable fanatics who were called by the Christian name.
As the new religion gained in strength, the antagonism of its
opponents grew more virulent. Several men of letters arose, who
wrote against Christianity with great force of argument, and power
of sarcasm. Probably no infidel writer in any age has surpassed the
Epicurean philosopher Celsus in the shrewd adaptation of his writings
to influence the popular mind: indeed, from that day to this, infidel
writers have done little more than repeat his arguments. He overwhelmed
the Christians with calumnies and contempt.
These attacks influenced intelligent Christians to write in defence
of their faith. The Emperor Adrian, in the year 140, visited Athens.
Quadrat, the bishop of the church there, a man of much ability, wrote
an apology in defence of the Christian faith. He presented a copy
to the Emperor Adrian. It seems probable that the argument exerted a
great influence upon the mind of the emperor; for, while in Athens, he
declared himself so favorably impressed with what he could learn of the
faith and conduct of Christians, that he was unwilling that they should
any longer be exposed to persecution. He even expressed the wish that
Christianity should be recognized as one of the religions of Rome.
To a governor of one of the provinces who wrote a letter on that
subject he replied, “If the people of the province will appear publicly,
and make open charges against the Christians, so as to give them an
opportunity of answering for themselves, let them proceed in that
manner only, and not by rude demands and mere clamors. If any thus
accuse them, and show that they have committed any offence against the
laws, do you decide according to the nature of the crime committed. But,
by Hercules!” exclaims the impetuous emperor, “if the charge be a mere
calumny, do you estimate the enormity of the offence, and punish the
calumniator as he deserves.”
Adrian had erected upon the banks of the Tiber, near Rome, a very
magnificent palace. With characteristic fickleness, he decided to
dedicate it to the pagan gods. The oracles were consulted. They
returned the response, probably through the cunning of the idolatrous
priests, that the Christian widow Symphorose, with her seven sons,
was exciting the displeasure of the gods by their worship of the
Christians’ God; and the emperor was promised, if he would sacrifice
them, he should be blessed in all his undertakings. Adrian ordered
Symphorose and her sons to be brought before him. At first he employed
very mild measures, and in kind tones entreated them to offer
sacrifices to the pagan gods.
Symphorose replied, “My husband and my brother were both your
tribunes. They suffered many torments for the name of Jesus, rather
than sacrifice to idols. By their death they have vanquished your
demons. They chose rather to be beheaded than to consent to sin. The
death which they have suffered has covered them with ignominy in the
sight of men, but has crowned them with glory before the angels.”
The emperor was irritated, and began to threaten.
“Unless you sacrifice,” said he, “with your sons, to the all-powerful
gods, I will offer you all up in sacrifice to them.”
The Christian matron replied, “Your gods cannot receive me in sacrifice;
but if I am burned for the name of Jesus Christ, my God, I shall render
the flames to which your demons are consigned more tormenting.”
The emperor curtly rejoined, “Take your choice: either sacrifice to my
gods, or die miserably.”
“Do you think,” said Symphorose meekly, “that fear will cause me to
yield? It is my desire to rejoin my husband, whom you have slain for
the name of Jesus Christ.”
The emperor ordered her to be taken to the Temple of Hercules. There
she was scourged, and then hung by the hair of her head. As she still
remained firm, he ordered her to be thrown into the river, with a large
stone tied around her neck. The savage deed was immediately performed;
and the body of the heroic Christian martyr disappeared beneath the
waves. The next day, the emperor caused her seven sons to be brought
before him. In vain he exhorted them to sacrifice to the idols. Seeing
all his menaces to be unavailing, he erected seven stakes, and bound
the brothers to them with cords. He ordered a different death for
each one. The first, named Crescent, had his throat cut. The second,
Julian, was pierced through the breast with a pike. The third, Nemesius,
was struck to the heart with a dagger. Thus they all perished. Their
mutilated bodies remained during the day exposed to the jeers of
brutal pagans. The next morning the emperor ordered the corpses to be
collected and thrown into a ditch. The Christians subsequently gathered
up the remains, and buried them about eight miles from Rome. The ruins
of a church are still to be seen, which in after-years was erected upon
that spot, called the Church of the Seven Brothers.
Such is the narrative which has come down to us from those distant
ages. We have no reason to doubt its essential accuracy. Such scenes
were continually occurring; and the evidence is incontrovertible, that,
in those days of terrible persecution, God did sustain the disciples
of Jesus with supernatural support. Tender children and timid maidens
encountered death in its most frightful forms with firmness which
excited the wonder and admiration of the sturdiest pagans.
The Eastern sage, as he accompanied a monarch through the gorgeous
saloons of his palace, said that it had one great defect,――it had
no chamber which was death-proof. Adrian found this true in the
magnificent pile which he had reared upon the banks of the Tiber. He
was taken ill. The disease developed itself in a tormenting dropsy.
He had no rest by day, no rest by night. The weary hours were filled
with suffering. Remorse was undoubtedly gnawing at his heart. He had
known the better way, but had refused to walk in it. Paganism offered
him no consolations. Christianity he had rejected. In his anguish he
longed to die,――to take that leap in the dark which must be so terrible
to any thoughtful man who has not accepted the truth, that life and
immortality are brought to light in the gospel. His sufferings were
so great, that he begged his friends to kill him,――to present him the
poisoned cup, or to plunge the dagger to his heart. But no one was
willing to perform that service. He was often heard to exclaim, “How
miserable a thing it is to seek death, and not to find it! How strange
it is that I, who have put so many others to death, cannot die myself!”
Upon this couch of suffering, from which death removed him in the
sixty-second year of his age, he wrote the following lines to his
departing spirit, so affecting, so melancholy, that they have survived
the lapse of eighteen centuries:――
“Animula, vagula, blandula,
Hospes comesque corporis
Quæ nunc abibis in loca,
Pallidula, rigida, nudula?
Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos.”
Prior has endeavored to translate or imitate this stanza in the
following lines, which but feebly express the spirit of the original:――
“Poor little, pretty, fluttering thing!
Must we no longer live together?
And dost thou plume thy trembling wing
To take thy flight thou know’st not whither?
Thy humorous vein, thy pleasing folly,
Lie all neglected, all forgot;
And pensive, wavering, melancholy,
Thou dread’st and hop’st thou know’st not what.”
Adrian appointed Antoninus, a man of singular purity and integrity of
character, who was about fifty years of age, to succeed him on the
throne. He enjoined it upon him to adopt as his heir Marcus Aurelius,
a very beautiful boy of seventeen, whose fascination of character and
manners had won the love of the Emperor Adrian.
Antoninus was a humane man. Christianity had obtained prominence,
and had become an important element in the Roman world. But still the
Christians were hated by the idolaters, and suffered innumerable wrongs
and outrages from the hands of the populace, even when there was no
governmental persecution. Their sufferings enlisted the sympathy of
Antoninus. The mere fact that one was a Christian, no matter how pure
his character, how exemplary his life, exposed him to every conceivable
indignity from the idol-worshipping populace. The local magistrates,
yielding to the clamors of the mob, would afford no protection to those
who were accused of being the disciples of Jesus. Antoninus issued the
following decree:――
“If any one shall for the future molest the Christians, and accuse them
merely on account of their religion, let the person who is arraigned be
discharged, and the accuser be punished according to the rigor of the
law.”
During the reign of Antoninus, there arose a very distinguished man,
now known as Justin Martyr, the productions of whose pen are still read
with admiration, and whose name will never die. He was born in Samaria,
of Greek parentage. In youth he enriched his mind by intense study and
extensive travel. All truly great men are thoughtful and pensive. The
mystery of life oppresses them, and the thought of what there is beyond
this life absorbs the soul.
Justin has given an exceedingly interesting account of his endeavors
to find some system of philosophy or some doctrines of religion which
could guide and solace him. We give the narrative in his own words:――
“At first I placed myself under the instruction of a Stoic. After
some time, I perceived that he could teach me nothing respecting God:
indeed, he confessed that he knew nothing of God himself, and that
he did not consider a knowledge of him to be at all necessary. I
immediately left the Stoic, and addressed myself to a Peripatetic,
a disciple of Aristotle. He was, at least in his own opinion, an
extremely subtle man. After spending some days with him, I found that
he was more interested in the money I should pay him than in any thing
else. Being satisfied that such was not the philosophy I needed, I bade
him adieu.
“Hearing of a Pythagorean of very great reputation, I applied to him.
He also had a very exalted opinion of his own wisdom. When I informed
him that I wished to become one of his disciples, ‘Very well,’ said
he to me: ‘have you studied music, astronomy, and geometry? or do
you think it possible that you can understand any thing of that which
leads to bliss without having mastered those sciences which disengage
the soul from sensible objects, rendering it a fit habitation for the
intelligences, and placing it in a condition to contemplate goodness
and beauty?’
“As I confessed that I had not studied those sciences, he dismissed me;
for he deemed them necessary.
“One can judge how great were my sufferings in seeing my hopes thus
frustrated. My grief was the more keen, since I really did suppose he
knew something; but, as it would require a long time for me to perfect
myself in those branches, I could not submit to the delay. I then
determined to seek the instruction of the Platonists. There was a
philosopher of that sect in our city, highly distinguished. I had
many conversations with him, and profited much by them. It afforded
me great pleasure to become acquainted with incorporeal things. The
consideration of ideas elevated my spirit as upon the wings of an eagle.
Thus I thought that in a very short time I should become wise. I even
conceived the foolish hope that I should soon see God. This frame of
mind led me to seek solitude.”
Justin then goes on to narrate, that one day he was walking by the
shore of the sea, absorbed in thought, when he saw a venerable man
approaching him. The dignified bearing of the stranger, and the
remarkable serenity and sweetness of his countenance, arrested his
attention. They entered into conversation. The stranger proved to be
a Christian, a man of remarkable intelligence, who understood the vain
systems of the philosophers as well as the gross absurdities of the
popular idolatry. He unfolded to Justin the religion of Jesus. The
young man was deeply impressed with the revelation thus made to him.
As he contemplated the idea of one God, the Creator of all things; of
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, coming to the world to make atonement for
sin; of immortality; of the elevation of the soul to eternal happiness
in heaven through penitence, the abandonment of sin, and the prayerful
and persevering endeavor in thought and word and deed to live a holy
life,――the earnest spirit of Justin bowed to the majesty of truth. He
became a devoted Christian. The simple preaching of the cross of Christ,
which many of the Greek philosophers regarded as foolishness, became to
Justin, as it has to many others, “the wisdom of God and the power of
God unto salvation.”
Justin, by his self-denying devotion, soon became conspicuous in all
the churches. He wrote an apology in behalf of the Christians. This
treatise, which would do honor to any pen in the nineteenth century,
was addressed “To the Emperor Antoninus, his two sons, the Roman
senate, and all the Roman people.” Very lucidly he stated the essential
doctrines of Christianity, and the nature of the evidence upon which
the religion was founded. With resistless force of argument he refuted
the calumnies with which the Christians were assailed, showing that
their hopes of eternal happiness were all forfeited if they allowed
themselves in any known sin. He dwelt upon the injustice of condemning
Christians for their name alone. He made it perfectly clear to the
humblest intelligence, that, when the Christians spoke of the kingdom
of Christ, they had reference, not to an earthly, but to a spiritual
kingdom. He stated the nature and design of the sacraments,――of baptism
and the Lord’s supper.
Justin closed his apology with the following forcible words:――
“If you find Christianity to be reasonable, respect it: but do not
condemn to death, simply because they are Christians, those who have
committed no crime; for we declare to you, that you cannot escape the
judgment of God if you persist in such wickedness. As for us, we only
say, ‘The will of God be done.’ We might demand justice of you in
virtue of the decree of your illustrious father Adrian; but we have
preferred to rest our cause upon the justice of our demands.”
This admirable treatise, calmly written with great force of language
and cogency of argument, must have exerted a very powerful influence.
Still popular prejudice is seldom removed by argument. Though here
and there many leading minds were led to regard Christianity with more
favor, still the malice of the ignorant and brutal masses, who were
ever crying, “To the lions with the Christians!” remained unchanged.
Justin was at Rome when he wrote this apology. Soon after, he left Rome,
and retired to Ephesus.
Upon the death of Antoninus, whose reign of twenty-two years was
an uneventful one, Marcus Aurelius ascended the throne. For some
unexplained reason, the new emperor commenced his reign with very
unfriendly feelings towards the Christians. Though he issued no decree
of persecution, yet he afforded the disciples no protection: they were
left to be maltreated by the brutal populace, and often to be condemned
to torture and death by the angry and unprincipled governors of distant
provinces. In the seventh year of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, a
very terrible persecution of the Christians sprang up in Smyrna and
its environs. The emperor remained silent in his palace while the
Christians were scourged to death, burnt at the stake, or thrown
to wild beasts. It is said that these martyrs were so wonderfully
sustained by supernatural power, that, in their hours of most dreadful
anguish, not a groan escaped their lips.
It will be remembered that the venerable Polycarp was bishop of the
church in Smyrna. Through the urgency of his friends he was induced
to leave the city, to seek a retreat in the country. The mob clamored
for his blood: they pursued him. Two boys were found, who, as they
supposed, knew of the place of his concealment. These merciless men
placed the boys upon the rack. In their unendurable agony, they told
where Polycarp was to be found. A band of soldiers, thoroughly armed,
hastened to seize him. It was late on Friday night, and the bishop
was calmly sleeping in his chamber. Aroused by the noise of their
entrance, he descended to meet them, greeted them kindly, and ordered
refreshments to be set before them. He then asked of them the favor to
grant him one hour for prayer. The soldiers, impressed by his venerable
appearance and kindly spirit, could not refuse his request. At the
close of this season of devotion they placed him upon an ass, and
conducted him to the city.
The sun of Saturday morning had risen as they entered the streets
of Smyrna. Many of the pagans who had long known Polycarp, and who
appreciated the nobleness of his character, entreated him simply to
say, “Lord Cæsar,” to offer sacrifice to the idols, and thus to be
saved. He meekly replied, “I cannot follow your advice.” They were so
exasperated by what they considered his irrational stubbornness, that
they not only overwhelmed him with reproaches, but treated him with
personal abuse.
He was brought before the tribunal of the pro-consul Philip, who
seemed to wish to save the venerable old man. He said to Polycarp, “If
you will only swear by Cæsar, and reproach Christ, I will immediately
release you.”
Polycarp replied, “Eighty and six years have I served Christ, and he
hath never wronged me. How can I now blaspheme my King, who hath saved
me? I am a Christian. If you desire to learn the Christian doctrine,
assign me a day, and I will declare it to you.”
The pro-consul said, “I have the beasts, and will expose you to them if
you do not yield.”
Polycarp replied, “Let them come. I cannot change from good to bad; but
it is well to pass from these sufferings to the realms of justice.”
“If you have no fear of the beasts,” the pro-consul replied, “I will
bind you to the stake, and consume you with fire, unless you yield.”
“You threaten me,” said Polycarp, “with fire, which burns but for a
time, and is soon extinguished; but you are ignorant of the future
judgment, and of the fire eternal which is reserved for the impious.”
The pro-consul was astonished at his firmness. Still he sent his herald
into the amphitheatre to proclaim to the eager throng awaiting the
cruel spectacle of the martyrdom that Polycarp had confessed himself
a Christian. With loud and angry shouts, the populace declared that
he was the father of the Christians; that it was he who had induced so
many to abandon the temples of the gods. With one voice they demanded
that he should be thrown to the lions.
Philip refused, saying that the spectacles of the wild beasts were
finished. They then raised the deafening cry, that he should be burned
at the stake. Immediately they ran to the workshops around to gather
fuel. It was observed that the Jews were as eager as the pagans at this
work. While they were rearing the funeral-pile, Polycarp turned to the
few friends who had ventured to gather around him, and said to them
with a smile (for he rather courted than dreaded martyrdom), “I am to
be burned alive.”
The executioners deprived him of all his clothing, dragged him to
the stake, and, while the populace were piling the fagots around him,
prepared to fasten him to it; but he said to them calmly,――
“Leave me as I am. He who gives me fortitude to endure the fire will
enable me to remain in the midst of the flames without being bound.”
These savage men, perhaps interested in witnessing the result of such
an experiment, consented.
Polycarp then, raising his eyes to heaven, breathed aloud the following
prayer:――
“Lord God all-powerful, Father of Jesus Christ, thy blessed and
well-beloved Son, through whom we have received grace to know thee,
I thank thee that thou hast led me to this day and to this hour, in
which I am to take part in the number of thy martyrs. May I this day
be admitted into thy presence with them as an acceptable sacrifice, in
accordance with that thou hast prepared, predicted, and fulfilled!
“Therefore I praise thee for all these things. I bless thee, I glorify
thee, through the eternal and celestial High Priest, Jesus Christ, thy
dear Son; to whom be rendered glory, with thee and the Holy Spirit, now
and through all future ages. Amen.”
The church in Smyrna wrote an account of the martyrdom of Polycarp,
which is still extant, and which they sent to their brethren throughout
the world. The day of miracles had not yet passed. The church testifies
to the following miraculous event which was witnessed at his death:――
“When Polycarp had finished his prayer, and pronounced ‘Amen’ aloud,
the officers lighted the fire: and, a great flame bursting out, we,
to whom it was given to see, saw a wonder; who also were reserved to
relate to others that which had happened. For the flame, forming the
appearance of an arch as the sail of a vessel filled with wind, was
a wall round about the body of the martyr; and it was in the midst,
not as burning flesh, but as gold and silver refined in a furnace. We
received also in our nostrils such a fragrance, as of frankincense or
some other precious perfume! At length, the impious judges, observing
that his body could not be consumed by fire, ordered the executioner
to approach, and plunge his sword into his body. Upon this a quantity
of blood gushed out, so that the fire was extinguished, and all the
multitude were astonished.”
The dead body was then placed upon the funeral-pile, and burned. The
friends of the martyr were then permitted to collect the charred bones,
and give them Christian burial.
The Roman empire was beginning to be assailed with such ferocity by
the surrounding barbarians, that Marcus Aurelius found it necessary to
enlist Christians in the army. He formed a brigade of six thousand of
these persecuted disciples of Jesus, and incorporated them with one of
the Roman legions. God endowed these soldiers with such bravery, and
enabled them to win such victories, as called forth the admiration both
of the emperor and the army.
After a decisive battle, in which God seemed miraculously to have
interposed in behalf of the Christian legion, Aurelius issued a decree,
declaring that the Christians should no longer be persecuted, but
should be entitled to all the rights and privileges belonging to other
subjects of Rome.