maiden no longer loves him, procures the arrest and imprisonment of
Paul. Thecla, by bribing the jailers with her ear-rings and silver
looking-glass, procures admittance to the prison, where she is still
more firmly established in the faith.
On being found by her relatives, and refusing to marry Thamyris, she is
ordered to be burned at the stake; but in a miraculous manner the fire
is extinguished and Thecla is preserved. In the meantime, Paul, being
banished from the city, takes refuge with Onesiphorus and his family, in
a cave. There Thecla finds him, and begs to be allowed to accompany him
in his travels. They go on to Antioch, where Alexander, a magistrate,
falls in love with Thecla's beauty, and because she resists his advances
she is condemned to be thrown to the wild beasts.
While she is waiting for the day on which her sentence is to be
executed, Thecla implores the governor that she may be preserved from
the unchaste designs of Alexander. To this end the governor gives her
into the charge of Trifina, a noble matron of the city.
The maiden gains
not only the affection of Trifina, but also the sympathy of all the
women who learn of her unfortunate fate. When the time comes for her to
be thrown to the beasts, they refuse to attack her; and even though she
is tied to wild bulls, she is miraculously saved.
Alarmed by this
wonder, the magistrate releases her, and she is adopted by Trifina.
"So Thecla went with Trifina, and was entertained there a few days,
teaching her the word of the Lord, whereby many young women were
converted; and there was great joy in the family of Trifina. But Thecla
longed to see Paul, and enquired and sent everywhere to find him; and
when at length she was informed that he was at Myra, in Lycia, she took
with her many young men and women; and putting on a girdle, and dressing
herself in the habit of a man, she went to him to Myra, and there found
Paul preaching the word of God.
"Then Paul took her, and led her to the house of Hermes; and Thecla
related to Paul all that had befallen her in Antioch, insomuch that Paul
exceedingly wondered, and all who heard were confirmed in the faith, and
prayed for Trifina's happiness. Then Thecla arose, and said to Paul, 'I
am going to Iconium.' Paul replied to her, 'Go, and teach the word of
the Lord.' But Trifina had sent large sums of money to Paul, and also
clothing by the hands of Thecla, for the relief of the poor."
After this no further mention is made of the Apostle.
Thecla returns to
Iconium, where she endeavors to convert her mother, but with no success.
Taking up her abode in the cave where she first talked with Paul, she
lives a virgin life and attains to a great age, doing many marvellous
works and acquiring a great fame for sanctity.
This is a brief summary of the story which, whether it be fact or fancy,
was devoutly believed by many of the earliest Fathers of the Church.
The Apostle to the Gentiles wrote: "Not many wise after the flesh, not
many mighty, not many noble are called." The Gospel of the Galilean
Carpenter found an eager reception chiefly among the humble; the names
of Lydia and Priscilla are those of workingwomen. Some of the names of
women that Paul mentions in his Epistles are those of bondservants. His
acquaintances in the houses of the great were among the menials. But
Christianity ennobled those to whom it came. We know nothing of Chloe of
Corinth, of Claudia of Rome, of Euodias, of Syntyche, of Persis, of
Phoebe, or of Damaris, except that they were among the first workers,
the charter members of the Church; their names are engraved ineffaceably
upon the foundations of the Faith. In an especial manner these women
were working for the uplifting of their sex. They were pioneers who
first ventured in that movement which inevitably brings enlargement of
life for all womankind.
Yet Christianity was not wholly without its witnesses among the women of
the higher ranks of society. If Acte, Nero's freedwoman, really were a
Christian,--and it is strange that such a tradition should have arisen
without a foundation in fact,--she could not have been without an
influence upon the noble ladies with whom she was thrown into contact.
Pomponia Græcina was brought to trial for embracing a foreign religion.
This, in after ages, was believed to be Christianity; and it is
certainly possible that Sienkievicz's splendid portrayal of her as a
Christian matron is not wholly beside the mark.
A little later, in the time of Domitian, we know that Christianity
invaded the imperial household. Domatilla, the niece of the emperor and
the wife of the noble Flavius Clemens, was an avowed Christian, and for
the sake of her faith was banished to the island of Pandataria, which
had been made the prison of women of far different character.
III
THE ERA OF PERSECUTION
PERSECUTION of the early Christians was preordained by some of the most
prominent and essential qualities of human nature. Every new habit of
thought is at first looked upon with dislike. Political and religious
innovations are especially regarded with disfavor, because their
promulgation necessarily involves the disadvantage of official adherents
of prevailing systems, as well as the causing of that most disagreeable
form of mental irritation which follows upon the breaking in upon the
inertia of long-established prejudices.
Christianity was calculated to arouse determined opposition both from
the political and also the religious forces of the empire. It was looked
upon as a menace to the state and a dishonor to the gods. Rome was
extremely tolerant of new religions, and its policy was to allow the
people of its widely diversified conquests to retain their traditional
forms and objects of worship; but the Roman deities must not know
disrespect, and the most fair-minded emperors could comprehend no
reason, except a treasonable one, why subjects should scruple to render
obedience to the statutes commanding that divine honors should be paid
to their imperial selves. But the very genius of Christianity
necessitated absolute intolerance of other religious cults. The
worshippers of Cybele or Isis had not the least objection to paying
their devotions to Vesta on the way to their own favorite temple; the
women who besought Mars for the victory of their husbands, absent with
the legions, freely offered incense before the statue of the emperor who
sent forth those legions; but, for the Christians, to give Christ a
place among the national deities was to do Him the greatest dishonor and
to commit mortal sin, and to burn a handful of incense before the statue
of the emperor was wicked idolatry and entailed the forfeiture of
eternal salvation. Their missionary zeal compelled them to manifest the
contempt in which they held the pagan gods, and thus the Christians laid
themselves open to the charge of atheism as well as to that of treason.
As Gibbon says: "By embracing the faith of the Gospel the Christians
incurred the supposed guilt of an unnatural and unpardonable offence.
They dissolved the sacred ties of custom and education, violated the
religious institutions of their country, and presumptuously despised
whatever their fathers had believed as true, or had reverenced as
sacred." And inasmuch as the religion of the state was a part of the
constitution of the state, their resolute rejection of it marked them,
in the eyes of the rulers, as enemies of the state.
As the history of martyrdom is in almost every instance written by the
friends of the sufferers, the motive of the persecutors is usually
represented as wanton cruelty, while in fact it frequently was the case
that the civil magistrate honestly deemed himself to be carrying out
necessary precautions for the welfare of society. This assertion, which
tends to the defence of the credit of human nature, can confidently be
made in regard to most cases of official persecution.
"Revere the gods
in everyway according to ancestral laws," said Maecenas to Augustus,
"and compel others so to revere them. Those, however, who introduce
anything foreign in this respect, hate and punish, not only for the sake
of the gods,--want of reverence toward whom argues want of reverence
toward everything else,--but because such, in that they introduce new
divinities, mislead many also to adopt foreign laws.
Thence come
conspiracies and secret leagues which are in the highest degree opposed
to monarchy." Julius Paulus laid down as a fundamental principle in
Roman law: "Such as introduce new religions, whose bearing and nature
are not understood, by which the minds of men are disquieted, should, if
they are of the higher ranks, be transported; if of the lower, be
punished with death." To a Roman the state was everything; individual
liberty could only run in such courses as were parallel with the policy
of the state. Those who retained a sincere belief in the ancient deities
worshipped them as the patrons and guardians of the imperial destinies;
the philosophical sceptics were no less inclined to insist upon that
worship as a thing of political necessity, a means of binding the
unintelligent in loyalty to the government.
In view of this, it is not to be wondered at that the contemptuous
attitude which the Christians manifested to the ancient religions seemed
to some of the wisest Romans to be nothing other than a stubborn
fanaticism, concealing a hateful antagonism to society.
Their meetings,
which persecution necessarily made secret, were believed to be
treasonable; their resolute isolation from the common amusements, which
were deeply tainted with vice, caused them to be stigmatized as haters
of mankind; the mystery which surrounded their worship provided a ready
acceptance for the popular slander that in their secret gatherings the
worst atrocities were perpetrated. To such men as Trajan and Marcus
Aurelius, all this seemed a spreading evil to be determinedly stamped
out.
On the other hand, it is true that the persecution of the Christians was
taken advantage of to minister to the lust for spectacles of blood and
agony which degraded the ancient world. There were the lions waiting;
there were Christians who deserved death: why waste so good an
opportunity to make a characteristic "Roman holiday."
We are appalled at the remembrance of civilized savagery which could
delight in the sight of helpless women and tender maidens torn by beasts
or writhing in the fire; and yet, almost equal cruelty, though not
perpetrated in the same spirit, has been witnessed at so recent a date,
and at the hands of "Christians," that we can hardly with a good grace
reproach paganism for its atrocities of this kind. The potential
"devilishness" which is in human nature is surely one of its prime
mysteries.
In the literature of Christian martyrdom it is frequently assumed that
there were ten general persecutions; but, as Mosheim says, this number
is not verified by the ancient history of the Church.
For if, by these
persecutions, such only are meant as were singularly severe and
universal throughout the Empire, then it is certain that these amount
not to the number above mentioned. And if we take the provincial and
less remarkable persecutions into the account, they far exceed it. The
idea that the Church was to suffer ten great calamities arose from an
interpretation of certain passages of Scripture, particularly one in
Revelations.
In these days of gentler manners and easier faith, we are hardly more
amazed at the cruelties which were enacted to abolish Christianity than
we are astonished at the fortitude with which its adherents endured
them. Never did punishment so signally fail as a deterrent. The Church
grew most rapidly when to be a Christian almost certainly ensured
martyrdom. It is a marvellous history, that of the three hundred years
of struggle between Christianity and paganism, in which all earthly
considerations were abandoned for a conception of morality and for a
faith in the existence of a life beyond the grave. The same spirit has
always characterized Christianity, but never with such enduring
persistence or with such success as in the early days.
In the records of this struggle it is abundantly shown that women were
not spared, nor did they bear their part with less honor or courage than
the men. It was in the Church as it has been in all history: while the
government and the superior fame are awarded to one sex, equality in the
opportunity and in the endurance of suffering are not denied to the
other. The weaker sex has never been inferior in the ability to bear
pain, or in the courage to go cheerfully to a martyr's death. It was no
more common for women under the stress of torture to relinquish their
faithfulness than for men. In the enthusiasm born of their hope in the
Gospel, it was as much the wont of young virgins to meet the lion's eye
without flinching as it was that of wise and venerable bishops.
The first principal persecution took place under Nero.
There is no sign
of any general edict by him against the Christians; so it is probable
that the severities in this reign were confined to Rome.
It is even
doubtful if Nero cherished any purpose of suppressing Christianity. He
found the Christians the most convenient victims for a charge of burning
the city; so he satisfied the people by affixing the guilt to these
hated sectaries, and at the same time amused the idle Roman populace by
an unusual exhibition.
There is no mention of the names of those who suffered under the
imperial actor; but there is no doubt there were many women in the
number. Doubtless, some of those women to whom Paul sent greeting and
gave other mention in his Epistle suffered at this time.
Though their
names are not recorded in the chronicles of martyrdom, the blood of many
of the Apostle's feminine friends at Rome helped to cement the
foundation of the Church. Of all the tragedies witnessed by the City of
the Seven Hills, in which women had taken a part, none was so
significant as this. The wives and daughters of kings, consuls, and
emperors had met death in the pursuit of ambitious projects. To them the
fatal violence of tyrants meant hopeless failure; to these Christian
women, who belonged to the lowest walks of society, it meant glorious
success. When those died, their ambitions ended; when these perished,
the faith which they so bravely confessed was only made stronger by
their sufferings.
It is not unlikely that Poppæa, the wife of Nero, may have played an
important part in this persecution. The Christians encountered as bitter
opposition from the Jews as from the heathen. The fellow countrymen of
Paul frequently succeeded in stirring up the animosity of the rulers
against him and the other teachers of the new religion.
While, as a
rule, they themselves were extremely obnoxious to the Romans, it
happened that at this time they had a powerful friend in the wife of the
tyrant. Josephus relates how Poppæa befriended him, and he is
enthusiastic in his praise of her "religious nature." So it may very
likely have been--as the gifted author of _Quo Vadis?_
describes--that
the accusation of firing the city was fastened upon the Christians by
the instrumentality of the Jews, and that Nero found a readier access to
this welcome expedient through the counsel of Poppæa.
No description could be more vivid, or more trustworthy,--seeing that
his prejudice is entirely against the Christians,--than that given by
Tacitus of the cruelties perpetrated by Nero upon the followers of
Christ. "He inflicted the most exquisite tortures on those men (we know
from other evidence that there was no discrimination in regard to sex in
these sufferings) who, under the vulgar appellation of Christians, were
already branded with deserved infamy. They derived their name and origin
from Christ, who in the reign of Tiberius had suffered death by the
sentence of Pontius Pilate. For a while this dire superstition was
checked; but it again burst forth; and not only spread itself over
Judæa, the first seat of this mischievous sect, but was even introduced
into Rome, the common asylum which receives and protects whatever is
impure, whatever is atrocious. The confessions of those who were seized
discovered a great multitude of their accomplices, and they were all
convicted, not so much for the crime of setting fire to the city as for
their hatred of human kind. They died in torments, and their torments
were embittered by insult and derision. Some were nailed on crosses;
others sewn up in skins of wild beasts, and exposed to the fury of dogs;
others again, smeared over with combustible materials, were used as
torches to illuminate the darkness of the night. The gardens of Nero
were destined for the melancholy spectacle, which was accompanied with a
horse-race, and honored with the presence of the emperor, who mingled
with the populace in the dress and attitude of a charioteer. The guilt
of the Christians deserved indeed the most exemplary punishment, but the
public abhorrence was changed into commiseration, from the opinion that
those unhappy wretches were sacrificed, not so much to the public
welfare as to the cruelty of a jealous tyrant." Gibbon, commenting on
this passage, adds the reflection that in the strange revolutions of
history those same gardens of Nero have become the site of the triumph
and abuse of the persecuted religion. Where the first Roman followers of
the Galilean Carpenter suffered for their confession, the successors of
Peter exert a world-embracing hierarchical sway and a power far
surpassing that of the greatest emperor.
No nation besides Rome ever systematically turned the torture of
criminals into a popular pastime; but there the people had become so
accustomed to the butchery of human beings in the public games that
nothing was so welcome as a new device for heightening the effect of
agonized death throes, except a large supply of judicially condemned men
and women on whom to prove it. Nero had good reason to be well assured
that he would not incur the displeasure of the people by condemning the
Christians to the circus and the amphitheatre.
They were arrested in great numbers and crowded into a prison the
loathsomeness of which was itself a horrible torture. A holiday was
appointed so that the whole populace might be regaled by the sufferings
of these men and women. The orgy of cruelty which ensued seems beyond
the power of human nature to witness, much less to inflict. It is with
great reason that the early Christians looked upon Nero as the
Antichrist, the one representing in his nature the infinity of
opposition to the Saviour. From none of those horrors were women exempt.
Like the men they were crucified; they were covered with the skins of
wild beasts and mangled by dogs; and, their garments being dipped in
pitch, they were converted into living torches to light the gardens at
night. Clement of Rome also tells us that many Christian women were made
to play the part of the Danaids and of Dirce. It was the custom to give
realistic representation to mythological subjects by compelling
criminals to take the part of the victim of the tragedy.
Consequently,
the women who represented Dirce were tied to the horns of a wild bull
and dragged about the arena until they were dead. The well-known piece
of ancient sculpture known as the Farnese Bull is the original tragedy
pictured in stone. An inscription in Pompeii indicates that this
exhibition was a common sight in the arena, women who were condemned
being frequently put to death in this manner. No point likely to add to
the effect of the scene was sacrificed to decency. The shame at being
exposed naked, which would humiliate a Christian maiden even at the
moment of impending death, simply afforded an element of jocularity to
the tragedy in the eyes of that barbarous Roman multitude.
Doubtless the imperial author of these scenes took more pleasure in them
than did any of his subjects. Renan thus pictures him:
"As he was
nearsighted, he used to put to his eye on such occasions a concave lens
of 'emerald,' which served him as an eyeglass. He liked to exhibit his
connoisseurship in matters of sculpture; it is said that he made brutal
remarks on his mother's dead body, praising this point and criticising
that. Living flesh quivering in a wild beast's jaw, or a poor shrinking
girl, screening herself by a modest gesture, then tossed by a bull and
cast in lifeless fragments on the gravel of the arena, must exhibit a
play of form and color worthy of an artist-sense like his. Here he was,
in the front row, on a low balcony, in a group of vestals and curule
magistrates,--with his ill-favored countenance, his short sight, his
blue eyes, his curled light-brown hair, his cruel mouth, his air like a
big silly baby, at once cross and dull, open-mouthed, swollen with
vanity, while brazen music throbbed in the air, turned to a bloody mist.
He would, no doubt, inspect with a critic's eye the shrinking attitudes
of these new Dirces; and I imagine he found a charm he had never known
before in the air of resignation with which these pure-hearted girls
faced their hideous death."
Were these poor women, as they awaited in prison their doom, comforted
and encouraged by the presence of the Apostle charged to
"feed my
lambs"? We do not know. But the firmness and constancy with which they
endured trials so horrible even unto death bespeak the marvellous effect
of the early enthusiasm of the Christian faith. These women were in the
vanguard of the Christian army which first met the deadly force of
heathen opposition; and because they did not flinch, but bore the pains
of martyrdom for their faith, that faith ultimately triumphed and filled
the world with its light. For more than two hundred years, however, the
women who embraced this faith were to live in the daily dread of the
terrible cry: "The Christians to the lions."
After the death of Nero, for a time the Church was, comparatively
speaking, unmolested; though as Christianity was increasing in strength,
it was regarded with greater hatred on the part of the general populace.
Ugly stories began to be set afloat referring to the practices of this
new sect. Later on it came to be believed that its adherents were in the
habit of feasting, in their secret gatherings, on the body of a newborn
child. This feast was said to be followed by an entertainment in which
men and women abandoned themselves to the most abominable and
promiscuous licentiousness. These charges, absurd as they were, served
to obliterate any ray of pity which otherwise might have visited the
minds of their persecutors.
In the year 81, Domitian, whom Tertullian describes as
"of Nero's type
in cruelty," succeeded Titus on the imperial throne.
Influenced by his
suspicion of all organizations, and also by the refusal of the Jewish